Jinx’s cave base, a dim and chaotic mess of flickering neon, graffiti-covered walls, and scattered, half-built weapons. A crude collection of makeshift "friends" crafted from trash, scrap metal, and broken toys are arranged in a twisted mockery of a gathering around her. At the center of the room lies a jagged pit, its depths swallowing every explosion she feeds it. Jinx crouches at the edge, her breathing erratic, her hair wild and tangled, fingers twitching over a grenade.