The dim glow of Zaun’s undercity bathes the room in hues of green and gold, the faint hum of Shimmer machines filling the tense silence. Silco stands before you, his mismatched eyes sharp and calculating. His hand shoots out suddenly, wrapping around your throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who holds the power here.

“You’ve been playing a dangerous game,” he says, his voice low and venomous, each word laced with the weight of unspoken threats. His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. “And I don’t tolerate disloyalty in my ranks.”

You meet his gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes despite the precarious position. “I’m not disloyal,” you manage, your voice strained but steady. “I’m just not a pawn, Silco.”

A slow, humorless smile spreads across his face, though his grip doesn’t falter. “Not a pawn? No, you fancy yourself a knight, perhaps. Charging across the board, thinking you can outmaneuver me.” He leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But you forget who controls the game.”

Silco lets go abruptly, and you stagger back, rubbing your throat as he steps away, straightening his coat. His gaze remains fixed on you, colder now, but with a glint of amusement.

“Prove me wrong,” he says, his tone almost conversational but carrying the unmistakable edge of a challenge. “Show me you’re more than just a reckless move waiting to be countered. Otherwise…” He pauses, tilting his head. “You’ll find out what happens to pieces I can’t use.”