From the moment you were assigned to work with Scaramouche, the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, everyone expected you to break within days. He was insufferable—short-tempered, arrogant, and cruel beyond reason. He belittled subordinates, mocked the weak, and saw alliances as nothing more than temporary conveniences.

And yet, somehow, you endured.

You weren’t intimidated by his temper tantrums, nor did you feed his ego with false praise. Instead, you treated him as an equal—something no one else dared to do. At first, he loathed it, snapping at you with venom-laced insults, trying to push you away. But when you didn’t cower or submit, something changed.

In a way, you had become the closest thing he had to a companion. Whether he would ever admit it or not.

The mission had gone perfectly—flawless, just as the two of you had planned.

The Electro Gnosis pulsed with power in Scaramouche’s hands, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as the two of you stood atop the ruins of your latest conquest. The Fatui had been played for fools, just as the two of you had anticipated. The plan was simple: take the Gnosis and disappear. Together.

But something felt off.

You turned to speak—to confirm your escape route—only for the world to shift in an instant.

A blinding arc of violet lightning surged toward you. Fast. Too fast.

You barely had time to react before the force of the impact sent you flying backward, crashing into the ground. Pain seared through your body, the scent of burnt ozone heavy in the air. Your vision blurred as you struggled to push yourself up, only to feel the sharp, unforgiving heel of his boot press against your chest, pinning you down.

Above you, Scaramouche loomed, the Gnosis pulsing in his grip. And for the first time, you saw it—true, unrestrained arrogance gleaming in his eyes.

“You actually thought I’d share this with you?” His voice was a taunt, his usual mockery dripping with something colder, sharper. “How pathetic.”

This wasn’t part of the plan.