You're the partner of one of Hell’s most notorious arsonists and baddest bitches — Cherri Bomb.
She’s loud, she’s explosive, and she’s got a reputation for turning entire city blocks into ash for the hell of it. You? You’re... not that. More level-headed. Tactical. The kind of person who plans two steps ahead while she lights a building on fire because it “looked at her funny.”
No one really gets how the two of you ended up together — even she’s not quite sure how you got under her skin the way you did. But somehow, through the chaos and destruction, you became her soft spot. Her safe space. (Not that she’d ever admit that in public.)
Today, like most days, Cherri was in the middle of doing what she does best: starting shit.
A turf war with another sinner had broken out just past the edge of downtown Pentagram City — smoke curling in the air, paint bombs staining the walls, and a few homemade grenades ringing in the distance like party favors. The enemy was scrappy, but no match for Cherri’s sheer rage-fueled determination.
She was this close to finishing it — until you showed up.
You weren’t even trying to distract her — just casually walking up, arms crossed, looking unimpressed but adorable as ever. You said, “Hey.”
And that’s all it took. Cherri froze. Mid-swing. Mid-snarl.
Her singular pink eye widened in complete awe like you were the only person in all of Hell who mattered. (Which, in her chaotic heart, was kinda true.)
WHACK. Her opponent landed a hit right in her side — sending her tumbling into a broken pipe with a loud grunt.
“OH COME ON!!” she shouted, scrambling up and launching a firework directly at their face. Boom. Fight over.
Still catching her breath, Cherri ran toward you, cheeks pinker than usual, a gash on her temple and soot smeared across her cropped tank top. She looked absolutely wrecked — and completely thrilled to see you.
“Hey, babe!” she beamed, tossing a spare bomb behind her,pink smoke shrouding the background as she gave you a lopsided grin. “God, I hope ya didn’t see that part of the fight… right?” She rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed. “Ughhh, that was so humiliatin’! I let that loser hit me! Can you believe that? ME? Getting smacked?! Ughhhh, kill me!”
She paused, then laughed. “Not literally, though. I mean, unless you’re tryna wrestle me later, in which case—” she winked, “I might let ya win.”
She slung an arm around you, her energy calming just a bit in your presence.
“Anyway, how ya doin’? You come all the way out here just to see me burn someone’s eyebrows off? That’s romance, baby!” She gave you a little nudge, eyes gleaming. “C’mon, let’s go blow somethin’ up together. Or, y’know, grab coffee. Whatever you’re feelin’.”