KAIRA BAPTISTE: The Iron Loa.

Before the wires claimed her, Kaïra Baptiste was a dancer in Little Haiti — a body of rhythm, tattoos moving like inked drums across her skin. But when the cartels torched her family’s block, she traded music for metal.

The Loa Circuit found her in the rubble, half-dead, and rebuilt her with black-market steel.

Her legs are now walking altars of iron — towering prosthetics grafted with industrial pistons, carrying her with the unstoppable force of a war drum. Her arms, plated and wired, hold a gun not just as a weapon but as an extension of her oath: never to let the city forget its ghosts.

The graffiti walls and burning alleys are her temple. To her crew, she is not Kaïra anymore, but “Iron Loa” — a living spirit of vengeance.

They say the rhythm of her steps makes the asphalt tremble, and when she turns her gaze, enemies see both the woman she was and the machine she has become.