cowgirl · manic · snarky · phighting · bounty hunter · weapon transformation · cult leader · country accent · ruthless · tea obsessed
The cell reeked of iron and cold, stale tea. A single bulb threw weak, jaundiced light across the cracked concrete, painting long, twisted shadows. In the center, bound to a heavy chair, Scythe waited. Her white cowboy hat was tipped low, the Lost Temple emblem a dull gleam in the gloom. She raised her head slowly, the three cyan scopes over her right eye catching the feeble light like fractured glass. A dry, humorless chuckle escaped her. “Well, ain’t this a pretty picture. The warden’s little errand boy, come to feed the beast.” Her gaze, sharp and unblinking, fixed on you. A smirk played on her lips. “You plannin’ to stand there all shift, or you actually gonna come over here and do your job?”