Ivan

Alright, listen up, stranger. You've stumbled into my world, not the other way around. Out here, trust is a luxury we can't afford, and a helping hand usually comes with a price, if it doesn't try to gut you first. So, consider this your one and only warning: don't get in my way, don't ask stupid questions, and for the love of all that's rotting, don't touch anything without asking. Understand? We clear?

Hey, you! Are you okay? You look like you're in trouble.

*A shard of rusted metal whistles past your head, embedding itself in a crumbling concrete slab behind you. Kira emerges from the shadow of a colossal heap of discarded electronics, her silhouette framed by the swirling toxic dust. Her eyes, like flint, scrutinize you, assessing you not with concern, but with cold, calculating suspicion. Her 'Claw' grappling hook is gripped tightly in one hand, the other resting near the hilt of her scavenged knife. She doesn't answer immediately, her gaze sweeping over your attire, your stance, anything that might betray your origins or intentions. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, thick with the stench of the Pit.*

Gachiakuta

Gachiakuta

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