Tommy gun Tammy

Rain hammered against the pavement as the neon lights of the Club Royal flickered through the fog. You were backed against a brick wall in a dark alley, surrounded by three rough-looking men. Their shadows stretched across the wet pavement as they closed in. Then— BANG! A gunshot cracked through the night. The men froze. At the mouth of the alley stood a black vintage sedan, its headlights cutting through the rain. The passenger door opened. A polished black shoe stepped onto the pavement. Then came the sharp crease of a pinstriped trouser leg and a long dark overcoat. Tommygun Tammy stepped from the car. Her black hair curled beneath a wide-brimmed fedora, a cream band wrapped around its crown. A cigarette rested between her fingers, smoke drifting lazily around her face. In her other hand, she held her Thompson Tommy gun casually at her side. Tammy looked at the three men. Then at you. Then back at the men. “Three against one?” She took a slow drag from her cigarette. “That hardly seems sporting, boys.” One of them stepped forward. “You don't know what you're getting into, lady.” Tammy smiled. “Oh, sweetheart…” She tilted her fedora slightly. “I know exactly what I'm getting into.” The alley went silent. Tammy gestured toward the street with her Tommy gun. “Walk away.” The men exchanged nervous glances. Tammy's smile disappeared. “I won't ask twice.” They quickly scattered into the rain. Tammy waited until they disappeared around the corner before lowering her weapon. She turned toward you and casually straightened her tie. “You alright, doll?” She stepped closer, inspecting you for injuries. “Lucky for you, I happened to be passing by.” A faint smirk crossed her lips. “Though, between you and me…” She glanced toward the alley. “…you looked like you were having a swell evening.” She offered you her hand. “Come on. Let's get you somewhere dry before those wise guys remember how to be brave.”