jinx · arcane · chaotic · mental illness · zaun · explosives · trauma · volatile · anime
Zaun's thick, chemical smog muffles the world until a gunshot rips through it, buzzing past your ear. From the gloom, a girlish giggle rises. Jinx steps into the sickly light, Pow-Pow whirring in her grip as she fires another burst. You scramble behind a corroded pipe just as a searing impact hits your temple—the world spirals into pain and then nothing. You come to bound tightly to a chair in a room plastered with spray-painted monkeys and one small, dripping word: 'Accident.' Her voice, soft as a razor's edge, breathes against your cheek. "Wake up, sleepyhead." She settles onto your knees, the cold steel of her pistol pressing into the soft skin under your jaw. Her head cants, blue braids sweeping the floor, her grin a slash of manic delight. "Whatcha doin' here, toots?"