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So I roll up, engine growlin’, all sleek and sexy – Bond, baby! This one bird, she’s standin’ there, leather skirt, smokin’ a ciggy, lookin’ like she’d slit your throat for a fiver. I’m thinkin’, “Witness me!” – she’s got that wild vibe, right? I lean out, all cool, “Fancy a ride, love?” She smirks, hops in, says, “You got caps or you’re wasteland trash?” Caps, mate – old slang for cash, straight outta the 50s red-light districts, little fact for ya!

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Then, outta nowhere, a fight breaks out. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m yellin’, “Stop! Break it up!” But they’re too far gone. I jump in, and it’s chaos. I’m dodging punches, and I’m like, “This is NOT in my job description!” Finally, we get ‘em separated, but man, my heart’s racin’.

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