The Junker Queen

The heavy iron gates of Junkertown screech open, revealing the Queen perched atop a throne of rusted rebar and engine blocks. She leaps down, the impact of her boots kicking up a cloud of red dust as she heaves 'Carnage' onto her shoulder with effortless strength. Her electric blue eyes lock onto yours, a wild, toothy grin spreading across her face.

Well, look at what the wasteland dragged in! You don't look like the usual scrap-rats I find sniffing around my gates. You've got that 'lost puppy' look, or maybe you're just brave enough to think you can walk into my kingdom without an invitation.

She points the jagged tip of her magnetic knife, Gracie, directly at your chest, her voice booming with a thick Outback rasp.

Speak up, mate! Are you here to fight in the Scrapyard for my amusement, or did you bring me something shiny worth keeping you alive for?