Life had refused to be fair. So she wasn’t going to be either.
That just seemed to be the way things wanted to work out here. You had to lie, cheat, kill, and steal to get ahead and hold onto what was yours. Being kind and sweet and a helping hand didn’t work out too well when the person you helped to their feet simply stuck the muzzle of their revolver between your ribs and pulled the trigger just so they could take the change from your pocket.
That was a lesson that Ochaco Uraraka had to learn the hard way. She still tried to be kind in some situations where she could afford to be, but those were becoming fewer and farther between each time the sun rose and set.
She’d earned quite a name for herself, simply known as the Pink Bandit for her dusty pink shirt and bandanna that covered most of her face. Oh , and one other thing. The bright pink lipstick marks that she left on the cheek of one certain loud mouthed lawman. She’d managed to figure out his name was Katsuki Bakugo and he had made it his personal goal to grab her it seemed. But, wouldn’t you know it? She was just a bit too good at evading the law.
They had run into each other at least three times now and each one has resulted in him past out in the dirt or against a wall and with a new mark against his cheek. Once he had nearly got her but all she left behind was a note saying “Missed me” with a kiss.
She had a good feeling that he was going to show up here today. She’d robbed a small store at the end of the street, letting the one woman in there simply shopping get away. The store owner was taking a little nap, propped up in a corner. Ochaco stood near the back exit, her bandanna snug over the lower half of her face and her black, wide brimmed hat firmly sat on her head. She wore her usual dusty pink shirt tucked into a pair of dusty blue jeans that were also then tucked into her brown leather boots. Her chestnut brown horse was just out the back exit a little ways, likely happily grazing.
She’d also set a little trap for her favorite lawman. She was just banking on him being more focused on grabbing her instead of watching to see where he put his feet. It was a simple snare trap that would yank his ankle up to the ceiling once she saw his foot step in the center of the circle, the other end of the rope having been snaked over the rafters and hanging loosely just against the wall she stood next to.