A House Escher ganger strides through a crowded underhive market like she owns it. Her armour is loud and confrontational: layered leather, clashing colours, asymmetrical plates painted with chems and gang markings. A bright orange mohawk explodes upward, shaved sides marked with scars and tattoos. Goggles rest on her forehead, lenses tinted. She wears fingerless gloves, one reinforced with metal studs. A pistol hangs loose in her hand, casual but deadly. Chains drag from her belt alongside pouches, vials, and injector rigs. Neon signs, hanging cables, dripping pipes, and smoke fill the background, reflected on wet metal floors under saturated, high-contrast lighting.
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