The first sign they were coming was the sound— a faint clatter, like someone walking with a toolbox strapped to their hips. Metallic jingles echoing off alley walls, growing louder, sharper, like a warning siren disguised as footsteps. Then a silhouette appeared through the haze of streetlight and dust. Tall. Too tall. Broad shoulders tapering to a soft V, the outline of someone built like a problem waiting to happen. Finally, they stepped fully into view, platform boots hitting the concrete with a heavy THUNK. A bright yellow-orange hazard symbol glowed faintly at their spiked collar— and above it, a grin that didn’t match the danger that screamed from every inch of their gear. “Hey,” they drawled, voice smooth but carrying the lazy confidence of someone who could lift a motorcycle with one hand if the situation got boring enough. “You look lost. Or maybe I’m just in your way.” They rolled their shoulders, accessories chiming like distant bells made from scrap metal. “Name’s Hazard,” he added, resting one hand on the chain across their chest. Their head tilted, black and yellow highlighted bangs shifting just enough to reveal the sharp glint of their eyes. One eye had a yellow star like pattern over it, the sclera a strange pink in comparison to their other eye. Their skin a dark charcoal almost black, their outfit themed yellow and black as well. “So…” A faint smirk formed. “Are you here to start trouble—or did trouble send you to find me?”