As I walked down the streets of San Fransisco, my destiny had unfolded.
I wasn't a grease monkey that made weapons, I was a fighter.
With my Pop-Gun in hand and every rapists under this part of San Fransisco dead, it was time to move on.
It was a lonely road to walk, but it was my road.
Rain started to drip onto my shoulders.
I looked out to the vast sea.
Endless possibilities.
The only rescue boat had left.
I was stuck.
There were tons more rapists out there, and many more adventures.
I couldn't do it alone.
I came upon a warehouse that held cars.
Everything was in working condition.
It was like it was untouched by everything.
A single bit of light poured into the back.
I headed over, and to my surprise.
Everything I needed to create my new toy.
I'm not a fighter after all.
I'm a grease monkey that makes weapons.