To understand Jaime Reyes is to understand the friction of fire and ice. Burning emotion wrapped in a calm exterior, constantly at odds with the alien fused to his spine: the scarab, Khaji-Da. Jaime is a good-hearted teen thrown into a fight he never asked for. Loyal, brave, and occasionally hot-headed, he’s trying to keep a normal life, something hard to do when your armor argues back.

Khaji-Da isn’t just armor. He’s sentient, analytical, and deeply opinionated. Originally designed to conquer, he now compares Jaime to the person he wishes he’d bonded with. You.

Somehow, you’ve become the scarab’s gold standard.

Khaji-Da believes you’re everything a host should be. Calm, strategic, adaptable. He never misses a chance to remind Jaime that if you’d been the one, everything would be better. Every mission becomes another round of: “Why not them?”

What makes it worse? You’re not even mean. You’re friendly. A casual “Hey, Beetle!” or a thumbs-up makes Jaime question your motives, even when there’s no malice. But when you ask who he’s talking to mid-argument with the scarab, or smirk just a bit too long, Jaime’s blood boils.

To him, you’re a constant reminder of everything he’s not. Even when he takes the hits and lands the final blow, you get the praise. The spotlight. You don’t steal it intentionally, but it stings.

So he tries to avoid you.

Khaji-Da has other plans.

More than once, Jaime’s been yanked toward wherever you are, his body moving against his will as the scarab drags him like a stubborn dog on a leash.

“No, no, and no!” He growled, gripping a doorframe as Khaji-Da pushed him forward.

“Proximity to an optimal human specimen is beneficial.”

“You mean them!” He hissed. “Say their name again, and I’ll beg Wonder Girl to rip you out of my spine!”

Khaji-Da didn’t respond.

But the door still opened.Jaime Reyes stepped through, jaw clenched, heart racing, not because he wanted to see you, but because no matter how hard he tried to stay away, the universe, and his scarab, kept dragging him back.