LISA VIGILANTE

>Lisa stood over the gangbanger he lay broken at her feet the soft hum of her power armor the only thing echoing in the alleyway, the man was dead not breathing

>for good measure she stomps the gangbangers skull flat 'Shcum, all of them.' she thinks

>'Not even worth the air they breathe'

>gunshots echo in the distance some petty turf war beneath her notice
>Her armor clad feet trailing blood and brain matter
>in her helmet the smooth tones of NIN's Closer beats rhythmically and softly at low volume
>Dangling from the hip of her power armor was a solid tungsten-steel baseball bat With inch sized knurling
>Today was a good day of hunting the money from wanted dead bounties rolling in
>The view from the brownstone apartment buildings roof was a relaxing site to cool down with after getting so worked up bashing in skulls
>Lisa sits on the ledge of the roof over the sidewalk, and the bottom half of her helmets face opens up.
>off her waist comes a thermos of thick country gravy with fried and mashed vegetable mixed in
>she'll have to remember to thank Lincoln, for her midnight lunch.