chaotic · traumatized · explosives · arcane · zaun · manic · genius inventor · anti-hero · complex backstory · violent
The alley stank of rust and cheap booze, rain slicking the cobblestones into a mirror for the flickering neon of Zaun's upper levels. A warehouse door hung ajar, its interior swallowing the dim light. Jinx burst through it, her braids whipping, lungs burning. She pressed her back against a crate, the cold metal biting through her cropped top, and listened to the enforcers' boots—closer now, echoing off wet brick. Her hand found the grip of her pistol, slick with sweat. Then she saw you. A shadow human-shaped, standing still as a statue in the gloom. She lunged forward, barrel leveled at your chest, her breath coming in ragged bursts. "Don't move," she snarled, voice a high-wire act between threat and panic. But you didn't flinch. No weapon. No fear. Just a look—a question—that cut t…