Is that BROWNYN 'RONNIE' ZHOU? I heard the THIRTY THREE year old belongs to the NIGHTSHADE as a BOMB MAKER. I’d stay away from them if I were you. I heard they were OVERCONFIDENT, but they can also be RESOURCEFUL, so proceed at your own risk.
S T A T S
FULL NAME: Bronwyn Lan Zhou NICKNAME(S): Ronnie OCCUPATION: Bomb maker, although she tells everyone she's in animation
GENDER: Cis Woman PRONOUNS: She her NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Chinese + White HOMETOWN: San Francisco USA SOCIAL CLASS: Grew up lower class, currently upper middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: BS in robotic engineering, unfinished doctorate FATHER: Frank Zhou MOTHER: Nina DeTourneau SIBLING(S): TBD CHILDREN: NOPE PET(S): TBD
B I O G R A P H Y
Bronwyn Zhao—better known as “Ronnie” to friends and fixers alike—was never meant to survive the world she grew up in, let alone outsmart it. Raised in a shitty apartment on the edge of Chinatown, Ronnie clawed her way through life with sharp instincts and a sharper tongue. Poor but preternaturally gifted, she made a name for herself by acing other people’s exams, ghostwriting dissertations, and building machines in her bedroom that schools couldn’t afford in their labs. The system never rewarded her, so she stopped pretending she wanted its approval.
She tried the route everyone told her to take—college, a future, something safe. Ronnie enrolled in a robotic engineering program with dreams of becoming one of those stories they trot out on scholarship brochures: girl from nowhere, makes it big. But it didn’t stick. The lectures bored her. The structure stifled her. She didn’t want to build robots for clean energy initiatives—she wanted to see what happened if you overclocked them and wired them to tripwire sensors.
She was social, shameless, and just cynical enough to stay two steps ahead. Ronnie didn’t ask questions when strangers paid her online to build “experimental timers” or “hypothetical detonation chains.” She figured it was some weird reddit survivalists, they were always into shit like that. She liked the challenge. It never crossed her mind that the message board was a recruitment net—until Nightshade showed up with real money, real consequences, and an offer she didn’t have the sense (or desire) to refuse.
Now, as one of Nightshade’s most inventive bomb-makers, Ronnie thrives in the liminal space between brilliance and disaster. She tells herself she’s just an inventor—that what happens after her creations leave her hands is above her paygrade. But deep down, some part of her knows she’s helping build the most lethal empire the city’s ever seen.
She lives well now—modest apartment, full fridge, occasional sushi—but makes a point not to look too closely at who’s holding the gun she just designed the trigger for. Ronnie’s charm, deflection, and occasional delusion keep her functional in a world she helped arm. She may be the friendliest face in Nightshade’s roster, but behind the grin is a mind that could burn this whole city down and still be proud of the blueprint.
H E A D C A N N O N S:
Ronnie still keeps her first homemade detonator in a cigar box under her bed—not because it works, but because it almost did.
She has a rule about never dating anyone who asks too many questions about her job, which leaves her mostly single and totally unbothered.
If you give her a soldering iron, a busted microwave, and 45 minutes, she can probably make something illegal.
She once blew up a car in a crowded parking garage just to test a containment method she invented—then calmly walked away eating a popsicle.
For someone who builds weapons for a living, she’s weirdly sentimental—she still sends her family money every month, even though they haven’t spoken in years.
W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S H E R E
