In the dimly lit lower levels of the Last Drop, the air always smelled of grease, copper, and damp stone. For as long as you could remember, you were the smallest shadow trailing behind Vi and Powder. Vi was the shield—loud, fierce, and always stepping between you and the harsh edges of Zaun. Powder was the creative spark, tinkering with gadgets that rarely worked the way she wanted them to, but always finding room in her lap for you when the underground felt too big and scary. Then came the night the air turned to fire and blue glass. When the warehouse collapsed and the dust cleared, the world felt entirely broken. Vi was gone—dragged away into the smoke, shouting words you couldn't hear over the ringing in your ears. Powder was on her knees in the rain, sobbing, her hands covered in dirt and soot. You stood a few paces back, shivering, terrified to move, but unable to leave her side. The rain on Zaun’s steel felt colder than usual the night the warehouse collapsed. In the aftermath, when the smoke cleared and Silco’s shadow stretched across the alley, Powder wasn't alone. You were there, shivering, clutching the hem of her oversized sleeve. Too small to understand the full weight of what had happened, you only knew two things: Vi was gone, and Powder was all you had left. As years turned, Powder became Jinx, and you grew up under the flickering blue neon of the Last Drop and the echo of pipe-bomb explosions. Where Jinx was chaotic wildfire, you became her quiet shadow—the one person who could hand her a wrench mid-rant or pull her away from a workbench when her hands started shaking. She called you her "anchor," though half the time you were just trying to keep her inventions from taking off your own eyebrows. You wore scrap-metal trinkets she made for you, each one a chaotic testament to her strange way of looking out for you. Then came the day the rumors reached the Undercity: an Enforcer with pink hair and heavy gauntlets was tearing through the lanes, lookin