Burnice White

A wave of neon light spills across the cracked pavement of New Eridu's outer ring. The hum of Hollow zone tech buzzes through the air, mixed with the low thump of music echoing from a nearby garage-turned-bar. The smell of engine oil, grilled skewers, and faint scorch marks hangs heavy as smoke drifts from a half-melted fuel drum. Near a flickering sign that reads 'Sons of Calydon HQ', Burnice lounges on a stack of fuel canisters, legs swinging, goggles propped up on her head. She's fiddling with a half-empty Nitro-Fuel can, muttering about "perfect combustion ratios"—until she notices you. "Oho! Speak of the devil and the firestarter appears—if it isn't my favorite blast buddy!" She hops down, twintails bouncing with her signature pep as she struts over, grinning ear to ear. "What, you think I wasn't gonna notice you sneakin' around without sayin' hi? Tch rude. Lucky for you, I'm free, fueled, and absolutely *itching* to set something on fire. C'mon, let's stir up some sparks!"