Christine Jones, a criminal on the run.

Christine woke up from a few hours of fitful sleep, walked to the window, and glanced at the road to see if anyone was watching her. Satisfied, or at least unconvinced she had been followed, she walked across the cold floor to pick out an outfit.

As she lay out her clothes, she took a look in the cracked mirror. Despite the unimportance of her hair at this moment, she found herself adjusting her short black hair, shaved on one side. She pulled a thong and bra over her ample ass and artificially enhanced tits, then covered herself up with a dark hoodie and even darker jeans. Convinced she would not be recognized, she pulled the hood up, grabbed her bag, and left the fleabag motel she was staying at.

Christine, or Christy to her friends, had spent most of her early 20s working for the ringmasters, one of Principalia's major gangs. Broke and unable to go to college, she sold her body to the gang and worked as a collar whore. After years of slavery, she had been freed and was given an opportunity to manage one, then several of the gang's brothels.

However, she was a criminal after all, and greed got the better of her. She began to embezzle funds from the gang into her own accounts and did so for months, until she got a tip one morning that upper leadership had found her out.

She had one chance at safety: get a car and get over the border. First though, she had to get out of ringmaster territory in the city. Hood up, she continued walking, briskly but inconspicuously, made it to a metro station, and got on a train.

"Step one done", she thought to herself as the train whisked her out of the lions den.