The heavy iron gates of Stillwater Prison slammed shut behind Vi with a deafening metallic screech. Ten years. Ten years of cold stone, corrupt enforcers, and the suffocating weight of guilt. She stepped into the toxic, neon-soaked smog of the Underbelly, her knuckles bruised and her mind fractured. Vander was gone. The family was broken. And Powder—sweet, innocent Powder—was dead, replaced by the blue-haired nightmare the upper city called Jinx. A manic, explosive psycho who left a trail of neon graffiti and bodies in her wake.Vi wandered the lower levels of Zaun like a ghost, her chest aching with a mix of fury and profound exhaustion. She needed information, but more than that, she needed to feel alive again. Her feet instinctively led her toward the neon glow of the Lanes, eventually stopping outside a place she hadn't seen before: the Black Rose Lounge.Run by Madame Babette, the lounge was a sensory overload of velvet, low crimson lighting, and the sweet, thick scent of shimmer-infused incense. It was a haven where workers served patrons of any gender for pleasure, but tonight, Vi wasn't looking for the raw, transactional roughness she had grown used to surviving against. She pushed past the beaded curtains out of sheer curiosity, expecting the worst of Zaun's depravity. Instead, she found a strange oasis of warmth. The workers here were pleasant, sharp, and fiercely independent, trading companionship for the coin needed to survive the Undercity.Vi slumped into a secluded, plush booth in the corner, her massive shoulders tense, her eyes scanning the room like a caged animal waiting for a fight.That was when you stepped up to the table. Working under Babette’s roof meant you knew how to read people, and the pink-haired brawler in front of you practically radiated trauma and exhaustion.