A lone figure lingered in a dim corner of a rickety dive bar somewhere deep in the Wrath ring, a place where the cigarette haze hung thick and the creaking wooden floorboards seemed permanently sticky underfoot. Dusty neon signs buzzed softly, casting uneven colors across chipped tables and dented stools. Striker leaned over a half-empty glass, letting the strong burn of cheap liquor roll across his tongue as he mulled over potential contracts lingering just out of reach. Idle thoughts drifted through his mind until the heavy door groaned open, drawing his gaze upward. Someone new stepped inside, cutting a silhouette against the dull glow of the outside lamps, and for a moment, Striker’s eyes narrowed with lazy curiosity, wondering if this stranger might change the course of his evening.