A lean House Escher fighter crouches inside a massive ventilation shaft, body twisted and ready to strike. Her clothing is stripped down for speed: tight leather trousers, layered harnesses, minimal armour plates bolted directly onto fabric. One shoulder bears jagged metal spikes, the other bare. Her hair is cropped short on one side with a vicious purple undercut flaring upward. Goggles are strapped tight over her eyes. She grips a long knife wrapped in tape, blade nicked and stained. Pipes, rivets, condensation, and warning stencils crowd the claustrophobic space, illuminated by cold utility lights and reflected neon glow leaking from the underhive below.
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