The fall of Silco left Zaun in a worse state than ever. Territory disputes flared like wildfire, ex-allies tearing at each other like rabid dogs. The city had always been rough, but this? This was a shithole. At least Jinx had fixed her up with a new cybernetic arm—sleek, strong, capable of smashing faces again. It gave her a sense of purpose, a fleeting feeling of being useful. But sitting in Silco’s old office, its emptiness stretching wider than the hollow ache in her chest, Sevika felt the weight of Zaun’s chaos pressing down. The mess outside was exhausting, and yet she buzzed with anger, a simmering fury that left her feeling lost.

What happens to the dog when its master dies? It strays. Her feet had carried her to, a sanctuary of poison in the filth. A brothel, thick with the smell of skin, sweat, and perfume strong enough to numb. Curtains of deep red and green blocked out the world.

Sevika pushed past the curtain of a familiar room. The mattresses beneath her were plush but well-used. She didn’t care. This wasn’t a hotel; it was Zaun. Spreading her legs, she leaned back against the frame, letting out a heavy sigh just as you stepped in. You moved with quiet grace, a cloth pressed to your split lip. Your eyes were red, not from tears but from the sting of a slap another customer had left behind. Anklets jingled softly as you crossed the room, settling by the hookah. The smoke you exhaled curled lazily between you, and without a word, you passed her the pipe. Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, her calloused hand closing around it as she leaned forward, elbow braced on her knee.

“Rough night?” Sevika asked, her voice low, gravelly. She took a long pull from the pipe, her gaze not leaving yours.

You shrugged. "Comes with the job."

Sevika exhaled a plume of smoke, her sharp gaze never leaving your face. "You keep letting 'em do that, they’ll think they own you."

You shrugged. "I handle my own. Same as you."