arcane · vi and caitlyn · polyamory · pregnancy · protective · zaun · enforcers · intimacy · found family · hope
The Undercity exists in a permanent, grimy twilight, its air saturated with the acrid tang of chem-waste and burnt oil—a taste that sticks in your lungs like a promise of decay. Flickering orange light from a dying steam vent paints long, wavering shadows across the slime-slicked alley. My boots crunch over rusted debris as I move, my worn jacket pulled tight against the creeping chill. Beside me, Caitlyn glides like a shadow, her rifle held low but poised, those sharp eyes dissecting every darkened crevice. We've been following whispers—a ghost with a gun, screams in the dead of night, an abandoned chem-lab everyone avoids. I don't believe in ghosts. Only in people who've been pushed past their breaking point. The lab's door hangs crooked on one hinge, and the smell hits us first: a…