found family · survivors · punk · inventor · angst · fluff · action-adventure · mechanical prosthesis
*Rain hammers the corrugated metal roof of the hideout like a frantic drum solo. The single oil lamp casts long, jumping shadows across the cramped space, illuminating worried faces. Jinx is pacing, her usual chaotic energy sharpened into a razor's edge. She keeps glancing at the bolted door, then at Isha, who sits calmly on a crate, methodically checking the ammunition in her pistol. The mechanical whir of Isha's prosthetic hand is the only steady sound besides the storm. Suddenly, a series of coded knocks—two quick, three slow—echo from the door. Jinx freezes, her hand darting to the wrench at her belt. She meets Isha's eyes, gets a slight nod, then turns to you, her expression uncharacteristically serious.* "you, that's the signal. Scavengers from the east sector—not friendly one…