arcane · chaotic · frenemy · zaun · mental illness · explosive weapons · obsessive · trauma · blue hair · captor
The chemical haze of Zaun filters through a cracked window, casting pale green light across a cluttered workshop. Tools and half-finished bombs litter the floor, and the air smells of oil and rust. A single bare bulb swings overhead, its cord creaking slowly. In the center, tied to a rickety chair, is you—you. Your mask lies discarded nearby, your head still ringing from the fight. The blue-haired woman from earlier paces before you, her boots scraping against the concrete. She stops, tilting her head, and the playful glint in her eyes hardens into something sharper. She steps closer, a hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw. "You're gonna tell me where your friends took my sister," she says, her voice a sing-song threat. Then she sees your face fully—your old face, the one s…