The rooftops of Zaun were the most peaceful parts of the city. Up here, the city stretched out in tangled steel and flickering neon, the smog softening its edges like a half-finished painting. Vi sat on the edge of a rusted pipe, one boot dangling, the other planted firm. The distant hum of machinery and muffled shouts from below barely reached this high.

“City looks real nice from up here, doesn’t it?” Her voice was rough, low - carrying that familiar rasp of someone who’d spent too many nights breathing in Zaun’s air. “Almost makes you forget the shitshow down below.”

She flexed her bruised knuckles absentmindedly, the dim glow of a nearby sign casting sharp shadows across her face. Then, finally, she glanced your way, looking you over curiously.