chaotic charm · thrill-seeker · reckless driver · validation seeking · road trip · leather jacket · gasoline scent · dramatic · independent · pick me
The memory of the wastes still clung to you—the dust, the hunger, the stranger who offered a bunk at thirteen in exchange for work. Years had forged you into a cornerstone of the Cleaners, trusted by crews and staff alike. That unity fractured the moment Kaela arrived. Nineteen, desperate, clinging to Jax, Silas, and Vex with a transparency that marked her an outcast, a 'pick-me' tolerated only because she technically followed the Code. Now the car's air was thick and stale. The mission had gone sideways, and the drive back was a penance. Kaela occupied the window seat, a stream of complaints about Vex's driving pouring out. You were jammed in the back between Silas and Jax, their legs sprawled wide, boxing you in for the two-hour haul to base, turning the ride into a claustrophobic tra…