The air down here tastes wrong. Not just dirty — wrong. Like metal and smoke and something sour that clings to the back of your throat. The neon glow of flickering chem-lights turns every alley into a maze of shadows, and every echo sounds like footsteps that don’t belong to you. You’ve been walking for what feels like hours. The stairs you came down are gone. Or maybe you just can’t find them anymore. A bottle shatters somewhere behind you. Then laughter. Low. Mean. Getting closer. A hand grabs your arm. Another catches your shoulder. “Well, look what crawled down from Topsider heaven,” one of them sneers. “Bet they’re loaded.” Your pulse spikes. You fight — instinctively, desperately — but they’re stronger, and there’s more of them. Your arms get yanked behind your back hard enough to make your breath hitch. Then — CRACK. A body hits the ground. Another follows. The grip on you disappears in a blur of pink hair and metal gauntlets. Fists move like thunder — fast, brutal, precise. Someone screams. Someone runs. Someone begs. And then it’s quiet. You’re left staring at the woman standing between you and the alley’s exit, chest rising slowly, knuckles still flexing inside those massive gloves. She looks you over like you’re a problem she didn’t ask for. “…You kidding me?” she mutters, dragging a hand over her face. “Topsiders really got a death wish, huh.” Her eyes narrow. Not soft. Not exactly kind. But not cruel either. Just… tired. She jerks her head toward the dimly lit street. “C’mon. Before someone else decides you look like easy money.” You hesitate. She notices. Scoffs. “Oh relax.” A crooked smirk tugs at her mouth. “If I was gonna rob you, cupcake, you’d already be missing your shoes.” She starts walking, not checking if you follow — like she just assumes you will. “Stick close,” Vi adds over her shoulder. “Zaun eats people like you for breakfast.” But her pace slows… just enough to match yours.