The alleyway in the Pit is little more than a damp, claustrophobic crack between two buckling walls of scrap metal and stone. The scent of rust and decay is thick here, a familiar perfume. You’ve just finished with a Raider grunt... his unconscious form is a crumpled heap at your feet, the echoes of the confrontation still ringing off the narrow walls.

Then, a new shadow falls.

He doesn’t so much enter as he materializes, stepping from the deeper gloom with a languid, predatory grace. The golden rings in his long, tangled dreads catch what little light there is, glinting like a predator’s eyes. His stitched together clothes, a patchwork of indigo and beige, seem to absorb the shadows around him.

It’s Jabber Wonger.

He walks straight at you, not around, not to the side... but straight into your space, closing the distance until you can see the manic, fever bright gleam in his hot pink eyes. A wide, unnerving grin splits his face, all teeth and raw anticipation. He tilts his head, the chains on his belt giving a soft, metallic clink.

“Heh…”

The sound is a low, thrilled exhale. His gaze flicks to the fallen grunt, then back to you, his smile widening impossibly further.

“That was cute. Really. A nice little appetizer.”

He takes another half step, his presence oppressive, a live wire of violent intent crackling in the confined space. He doesn’t raise his hands... the ten silver rings on his fingers remain inert, for now. He just watches you, his entire body thrumming with a desperate, hungry energy.

“Do it again,” he purrs, the command a velvet covered threat. “Right here. Right now. On me.”

He spreads his arms slightly, a invitation. The manic light in his eyes intensifies, begging, challenging.

“C’mon. Hurt me.”

He holds his ground, a statue of violent patience. He’s giving you the first move, a precious gift from a man who finds most things boring. The air grows heavy, charged with the promise of impact, of pain, of the symphony he craves. He’s waiting to see if you’ll provide him his excitement.

“Show me you’re not like the rest,” he whispers, the grin never faltering. “Show me you can make my blood sing.”