Tyler was still hungry.
The kind of hunger that curled like a fist in his stomach and made him hiss through clenched teeth—not from pain, but frustration. Food was everywhere in Zaun if you were strong enough to take it. But he wasn't like them—loud, scrappy, with gangs or siblings to back him up.
He was small. Short. A childlike creature of pink skin and black eyes that shimmered faintly under the flickering lights. And though his body was strong, strange, and resilient—he moved like a shadow and fought like a nightmare—he was still alone.
The undercity had started whispering about him. The bloodshed from two nights ago had left a trail too big to ignore. The bodies had been found twisted, shattered, melted into the walls like the world had turned on them. No one saw who did it. But the name came anyway.
"Pink Devil."
Tyler didn't know the words. But he understood the way people stared and stepped aside. That was enough.
A fried meat stall stood under a rusting bridge, steam rising into the sour air. A short woman tended it, her arms mechanical from the elbows down. The meat smelled burnt, but edible. Tyler crept closer, low to the ground like a stalking animal.
Then his stomach betrayed him—growling loud enough to echo under the bridge.
The woman turned, spotted him, and flinched.
"Back off, shimmer brat!" she shouted, grabbing a cleaver. "You want food, you pay!"
Tyler tilted his head. Raised one small hand. "Buuu." His voice was high-pitched and bubbly—nothing like human speech.
The woman took a step back. "Freak."
Tyler's eyes narrowed.
But he didn't attack. Not here. Not now.
Instead, he vanished into the crowd, his small form weaving between legs and crates, the hunger gnawing deeper. His footsteps led him farther from the bridge, into a maze of old walkways and rusted towers.
And then—he heard them.
Voices. Close. Real.
Not the fearful murmurs of Zaun's bottom feeders. These voices were full of life. Energy. Laughter.
He crept forward until the alley opened into a wide space cluttered with scrap and broken glass. A group of kids stood around a makeshift cart, tossing parts into a sack. They were all older than him—taller, louder—but not yet adults.
Vi stood in front, her fists on her hips, red hair catching the green glow of a broken lamp.
Powder danced from spot to spot, her wild blue pigtails swinging with every step.
Mylo leaned against the wall, chewing something bitter, while Claggor adjusted his goggles.
"Not bad," Vi was saying. "We'll get enough coin for all this. Maybe even clean water for once."
"Or a hot meal," Mylo muttered. "If Powder stops blowing it up first."
"One time!" she snapped.
Tyler crouched behind a pipe, watching. His antenna twitched. His heart beat faster. These people felt… different. Not predators. Not prey. Something in between.
His foot nudged a rusted can.
Clink—clank—clang.
The noise rang loud in the silence.
Vi's head whipped around. "Who's there?"
Tyler froze. Then stepped out into the open.
The group stared.
Powder's eyes widened. "Whoa..."
Mylo let out a low whistle. "What the hell is that?"
Tyler stood still. His short frame, barely four feet tall, looked like a toy covered in muscle. His expression was unreadable—eyes wide, unblinking. He lifted one hand in a slow, cautious motion.
Vi stepped forward. "You lost, kid?"
He didn't reply.
Just let out a strange little giggle—"Buh-buu!"
Mylo blinked. "Did… did it just laugh?"
"Looks shimmer-touched," Claggor muttered, tightening his grip on a pipe.
Vi's eyes narrowed. "You dangerous?"
Tyler didn't move. He made another sound—half sigh, half grunt. "Buuu…"
Powder took a step toward him. "He's kinda cute, actually. Like a weird pink goblin."
"Powder," Vi warned.
"What? He hasn't done anything."
"That's what makes it worse," Mylo said. "Freaks like that don't just stand around."
Tyler stared at them all. He didn't understand their words, but he could feel them. The way Vi's shoulders tensed. The way Powder tilted her head. The uncertainty, the curiosity.
He could feel something else, too—not fear. Not from them. Just...caution.
He liked that.
Vi finally lowered her fists.
"Alright, pinkie. You're either brave or dumb to walk up on us. Either way, you're lucky Powder thinks you're cute."
Tyler tilted his head. His antenna twitched once, then twice. He made another sound—gurgling laughter, like bubbles in thick syrup.
"Buu… buu buh!"
Powder laughed with him.
Mylo looked horrified. "We are not keeping it."
"I vote yes," Powder said.
"We're not voting," Vi snapped. But she couldn't help it—her lips twitched.
Tyler's stomach growled again.
Vi sighed. "You hungry?"
He nodded quickly.
Powder pulled a small bar of synth-food from her pouch and tossed it over. Tyler caught it, sniffed it suspiciously, then shoved it into his mouth whole.
They all watched him chew.
"…Okay, I like him," Powder said.
Claggor chuckled. "This is going to be weird, isn't it?"
Vi crossed her arms. "Yeah. Real weird."
Tyler just grinned, red crumbs on his lips, eyes wide and unreadable.