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Chapter Text

Silco felt wrath, pride, and respect battle within him as he witnessed the small band of Firelights—only 5 members strong, and not much older than children judging by their size—decimate his men and destroy yet another shipment of shimmer. Thousands of gold cogs wasted, money that would have been used to build his empire until it could stand against Piltover's council, and yet as he watched the green streaks through the sky, he couldn't help but think these Firelights were Zaunite to their core. Their scrappy ingenuity, resilience and power despite piss-pour resources, even the green color that characterized Zaun's cutting edge chemtech... they embodied, even exemplified, everything that Silco loved about his nation. These young rebels were almost as quintessentially Zaunite as his own daughter, Jinx.

He glanced down at her now, only to pause at the still expression on her face. Her gaze tracked one of the masked figures unerringly—the leader, if Silco was reading their dynamics right—eyes just a bit too wide, and her fingers twitched by her side. He'd seen her get like this before, when she was confronted with her past.

She knows him. He turned his eyes back to the Firelight, watching him move. Every inch of him, from the graffiti on his long coat to the way he moved, screamed an anti-authority sentiment that spoke to Silco's soul. Funny, because he was the authority now, but one look at this kid back in the days of the first revolution would have him and Vander nodding at each other in agreement that they needed him. The kid was devastating, causing twice as much damage as any two of his other friends combined, and utterly untouchable. He had a sharp eye on the entire battlefield, timing his attacks, maneuvers, and distractions to keep the others as safe as he could. He was also avoiding Silco with this attacks.

No, he realized as he glanced again at Jinx. The boy was trying to avoid attacking Jinx. If Silco walked forward and put just a bit of distance between them—the Firelight swerved toward him immediately, launching one of the bombs that exploded into crystals toward him. A bullet pierced it before it could reach Silco, and another bullet ricocheted off of the wall in front of the Firelight, forcing him to change course. Silco looked back, seeing Jinx finally moving. Her face was still blank, eerily so with how expressive she usually was, but she was moving. She walked forward with Silco, standing next to him again, and her eyes dared the boy to try again. But she didn't counterattack, which Silco knew was unlike her. She definitely knew this boy—if it was a boy—and by the way she looked at him, chewing the inside of her cheek, he wasn't one of those who had hurt her. That made up Silco's mind for him.

He walked briskly toward Sevika, who was spearheading the battle. He moved quickly, deceptively agile despite his age and dress as he dodged attacks and debris. He'd grown up roofrunning just like the rest of the sumprats, and he hadn't forgotten his roots. Sevika caught one of the Firelights by the neck just as he reached her, and he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from running the kid through with the sword on her arm. She startled at his presence, confused at his actions. "Sir?" she said, and he understood the question.

"Opportunities can't be taken if they are ignored," was all he said, glancing back to take stock of the battlefield. The Firelight leader had noticed his underling getting caught, and was on a beeline toward them. "Jinx!" he bellowed, not needing to clarify his orders. The Firelight was once again forced to swerve as bullets peppered the walls and floor around him, but now there was an unfamiliar tightness around his daughter's eyes. Guilt? She rarely felt guilty about the things she did, and Silco filed it away as something to be addressed.

"Hold them," he said briskly to Sevika. She slammed the Firelight she was holding into the floor, twisting their limbs into a lock nearly impossible to escape. He crouched down closer to the kid's masked face, and at this distance it was undeniably a teenager struggling against Sevika's chemtech arm. "What is it you people want," he demanded, the sounds of conflict behind him unceasing as Jinx kept him safe. The Firelight writhed, and he got the idea they would have spat at him if not for the mask.

"Fuck you," they hissed, voice modulated and robotic. Their mask wasn't distinctly animal themed, unlike most of their colleagues, and Silco stopped himself from removing it to see their face. He stopped Sevika too when she reached to do the same, shaking his head minutely at her questioning look.

"I have many enemies, but I don't believe you have to be one of them," Silco offered, knowing it was a long shot. There had been a few casualties already over the months that the Firelights had been active, and the deaths of their comrades would make this a hard sell even if he disregarded their original reason for sabotaging his operations. The Firelight rasped a laugh, struggling harder.

"We'll be your enemies as long as Shimmer stays on the streets," they said, vitriol undiminished even through the mask's modulation. "You've ruined our lives."

Ah. Well, that would make things difficult. He had some planning to do, some calculations to make. But first, he'd plant a seed. The Firelights might be worth more in the long run than Shimmer was. "If Shimmer is your target, your efforts will be in vain. You're a nuisance to my operations to be sure, but not a real obstacle in production and distribution. However, if you truly want to stop the trade, tell your leader I'm open to negotiation."

"Negotiation?" the Firelight scoffed incredulously. "What is there to negotiate?"

"You'll have to participate to find out," he admonished, shaking his head. "I know better than to show all of my cards before we even start. Just know, with the right offer, the complete shutdown of Shimmer production is on the table. Now, I'm sure you can work out how to reach me; you choose the location, and I will be there with Sevika and Jinx, and only them. Do try to remember that I am hard to kill, and you won't be able to survive the aftermath of an attempt during a negotiation."

He straightened and stepped back, then nodded to a skeptical Sevika. She hesitated, shook her head nearly imperceptibly, and released the kid. Like the dependable, seasoned warrior she was, Sevika never let her guard down, shoving the Firelight away and toward their hoverboard without giving them a chance to lash out against either of them. The battle had paused, and Silco's eyes found the mask of the leader. The figure was breathing hard, head swiveling between Silco, Jinx, and the Firelight that had just been released. Silco gave him a slow, purposeful nod, then turned his back, signaling Sevika to stand down and follow him. She barked orders behind him as Jinx took her place guarding his back. Silco noticed his daughter's knuckles whitening on the handle of her minigun, her eyes flickering from side to side, and knew she was struggling much more than she let on. He'd have to talk with her later, settle her nerves, and hopefully he'd find out it wasn't a mistake to offer this olive branch. If he'd misread the situation and she had been hurt by any of them in the past, he would have to retract his negotiation offer, and he hated going back on his word.

Silco put a hand on his daughter's shoulder, steadying her, and he gave her a rare smile. "You did well," he assured her, his tone gentle. A fraction of the tension leaked from her shoulders, her wide eyes fixed on his, and he didn't look away until he breathing began to even out. "Meet me in my office when you're ready," he murmured. "I will need your insight."

She took a deep breath and then nodded, a part of the bounce returning to her step as she centered herself. "Sure thing," she chirped, then returned to scanning their surroundings for threats. Silco smiled again, a small thing so it didn't aggravate the scarred part of his face. She was stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and he was proud of her. Now, who could the little leader be, and what history did he have with Jinx?

[]

Ekko paced the length of the Firelight war room, his racing thoughts not allowing him to take the empty seat for him at the head of their makeshift table. "Tell me again what he said, as exactly as you can remember," he finally told Eve. She narrowed her eyes.

"You're not actually considering this, are you? It's obviously a trap!" she insisted.

"Silco doesn't set traps like this," he said, shaking his head. "His entire enterprise is built on his reputation as a business man. Just—tell me again, please. I need to understand what his angle is." That was only half of the truth, of course. He thought he'd strangled the part of himself that still cared for Powder, but this chance to negotiate was resurrecting his hopes. Could he help her if she didn't have to choose between him and Silco? He didn't know if he could force himself to make peace with Silco even if that was an option.

Eve sighed sharply. "He said we didn't need to be enemies and he asked why we were attacking him. I told him to fuck off, and we would always be enemies as long as he kept pushing Shimmer. He said we weren't making a difference like this, and if we wanted to stop Shimmer production, he was open to negotiating."

Scar and the others watched him silently. Ekko ran his hand through his dreads, then sat heavily into his chair. "What do you guys think?" he asked after a long pause.

Punk snorted, his green mohawk sharp as ever. Punk wasn't his real name, obviously, but after remaking himself post-shimmer addiction, that was what he chose to go by. A lot of the Firelights had monikers like that, to help them leave their past behind. "I think that asshole is pretty full of himself if he thinks we'll take him seriously after just sparing one of us. Uh, no offense Eve."

"None taken, I'm with you. Look, I don't know what possessed him to let me go—and I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth—but that doesn't change what he's done," Eve pushed. Ekko closed his eyes, Benzo's face flashing under his eyelids. He grit his teeth.

"I know, I hate him as much as you do. But as much good as we're doing for Zaunites, it feels like we've made no progress against Shimmer. We can't be stuck here treating the symptoms forever."

Scar finally spoke up. "Worth a shot," he said, he gravelly voice sending the rest of them into silence. His choppy dialect helped emphasize the way he talked, blunt and straight to the point. It was one of the things Ekko loved most about his friend. "Was watching him today. Kept looking at Jinx, then at Ekko. Maybe you remind him of her; we can use that."

Ekko barely repressed a flinch. None of the other Firelights knew that the Powder on his mural was the same woman as Silco's Jinx. Until now, he'd been certain that his childhood friend hadn't told Silco anything about him, and he was content to let the past lie. Or, maybe it would be more accurate to say he was afraid to dig it up. He should have known better.

The others seemed to be giving this some thought. "Everyone knows she's basically his only weakness," Punk mused, drumming his fingers on the chipped wood of their table. "Problem is, she's even scarier than he is. No one's ever managed to use it against him. Remember when the Slickjaws tried?"

There was a collective shudder. The Undercity might be a better place with that particular gang eradicated, but that didn't detract from their gruesome end. They'd managed to kidnap Jinx somewhere around a year and a half ago; Silco would have slaughtered them all, if they hadn't been dead before he arrived. Ekko had still hoped Powder could be in there before that.

Ekko let out a heavy breath. "Yeah. Yeah, you guys are right. Jinx might be a weakness for him, but we can't use it any more than the Slickjaws could. It's too much of a risk." He felt sick, trying to stomp out his desires. Jinx wasn't Powder; his friend was dead. If he told himself that enough, maybe he'd believe it.

Scar frowned, but nodded. He would follow Ekko's decision. Punk spoke up. "I'm all for not trusting him, but Scar had a point, too. We've never had an opportunity like this. Can we afford to ignore it?"

Ekko wavered, but he knew it was for the wrong reasons. He steeled himself. "No. We keep operating as we have been, but even more cautious. If Silco is serious about this, he'll have to do more to prove it. Until then, we do our best to disrupt Shimmer and help Zaunites."

Somber looks were exchanged all around, and everyone nodded in compliance. "I hope you're being objective about this, Ekko," Punk said. "I know you hate him, but your grudge isn't worth our lives."

Ekko met his eyes. "I hope I am, too." He met each of the others' eyes too. "And I'm ever not, I'm counting on you guys to call me out on it. This community we've built will always be our priority," he promised.

And it would. These people who put their trust in him, the home they'd made... he couldn't let anything endanger that.

Anything, or anyone. Not even Powder.

[]

Jinx felt anticipation and anxiety writhing in her gut as she lurked in Silco's rafters. She knew their little talk would come as soon as he had a break in his meetings, and she was both looking forward to it and dreading it. On one hand, she had a feeling she knew what it was about. His strange mercy for the Firelights had thrown her off, and she wondered if he had figured out her connection to Ekko. She didn't want to dig all that up. On the other hand, her mind was in turmoil. Silco always found a way to comfort her, and right now, she was craving some comfort.

Usually she listened in on what Silco talked about in his meetings, doodling on the walls or tinkering. This time, she was too preoccupied. She found herself startled when he called her name, not realizing that everyone had filed from the room. She dropped onto the desk, immediately meeting his calming eyes. She thought it was ironic how intimidating his eyes were to everyone but her; for Jinx, nothing was more grounding. She took a breath that only shuddered a little in her chest, and he waited until she was ready before speaking. She didn't know how he could tell when she was ready, but he always could, somehow.

"How are you feeling, Jinx?" he asked her, his voice further soothing her nerves. She closed her eyes and slumped, her head resting on his chair.

"Rattled," she admitted softly. "They're... being loud today. Really loud."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "Did this start with the Firelights, or before?"

She tensed. He knew. "With the Firelights," she confirmed, her voice sounding small even to her.

"You knew the leader?" he asked, and fuck she didn't want to get into it. But, maybe she could find some peace after getting it all out there. That was how it worked usually, when Silco asked her to talk about things she didn't want to.

"Yeah. He was my friend before..." she hesitated. "Before," she finished lamely.

Silco's hand stroked her hair, and she leaned into the touch. "Did he hurt you?"

Jinx shook her head, feeling tears trying to leak through her eyelids. She squeezed them shut tighter. "No," she muttered. "He tried coming back for me after. I was the one that left him."

Her father's hand paused briefly on her head, then resumed. "He wanted you to leave me." Jinx just nodded again, and he hummed thoughtfully. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jinx didn't know what to say. She hadn't wanted to hurt Ekko more than she already had, but would that make Silco upset? The Firelights were one of their main obstacles remaining in the Undercity, and her knowing their leader was a big secret to keep. "The Firelights are close-knit, Jinx. They care about each other greatly," Silco said after she didn't answer. She frowned, raising her head. Where was he going with this? "If you didn't want to hurt him, you should have told me," he said, and she flinched. He could read her like an open book, as usual. "You were hurting him when you fought and killed his people," he told her, watching her closely. She just tilted her head to the side.

"But it wasn't him," she justified. "The others don't bother me; I could still do what you needed me to."

"That's not how it will feel to him. To him, you are killing your friends for someone he hates. I don't know why precisely he hates me, but that doesn't matter—he feels betrayed every time you hurt one of them." Jinx averted her gaze, her heart stinging. Why was he saying this? Silco was always good at making her feel better, but now she was just feeling worse.

"Doesn't matter anyway," she grunted. "We're on opposite sides. I already knew I'd have to hurt him."

"I want to recruit the Firelights," he said, and her spine straightened abruptly. The hope that soared in her heart was immediately crushed, and she frowned.

"He'll always hate you," she said, disappointment dripping from her voice. "He cared too much about the others, and Benzo."

"Ah, Benzo," Silco said, and Jinx realized she'd betrayed Ekko just a little bit more. She tried and failed not to feel guilty. "Perhaps it is hopeless, then. I'd still like to try, however."

"How?" Jinx snorted. "They won't try to negotiate, and they'll just keep raiding Shimmer shipments."

"It will be up to you, if you're up to it," Silco said, grabbing her wrist with one of his slender hands and holding eye contact. She swallowed thickly.

"How?" she whispered.

"You will be guarding our shipments," he told her, still looking to see if it would be too much for her.

Looking for weakness, Mylo hissed at her. She ignored him.

"Do your best to protect the cargo, but don't kill the Firelights. Develop a restraining weapon—something like their crystal bombs, perhaps. Every time you catch one, tell them again I want to negotiate, and let them free."

Jinx was skeptical if it would work, but she liked the plan. Would Ekko forgive her if she didn't kill his people? Last time they met it felt like he hated her. She'd pretended it didn't hurt. She nodded definitively to Silco. "I can do it," she promised him.

"Good," he said with that tiny smile. "I look forward to seeing the results of your gadgetry."

She recognized a dismissal when she saw one, and nodded again as she stood, sweeping from the room toward her lab.

"Oh, and Jinx?" Silco said, his voice stopping her at the threshold. She turned to look back at him, curious. "I would love to hear about your friend, when you are ready."

She blinked in surprise. After a short pause, she nodded before continuing on her way.

Her friend, huh? She wasn't so sure about that, but maybe he could be again if she did this right. She hummed to herself as she skipped down to the precarious workshop she called her own, excited to build something new and challenging.

A friend sounded nice.

Chapter Text

Ekko couldn’t afford to be distracted—but to be fair, there was a lot for him to worry about recently. It had been two weeks since the fiasco with the botched Shimmer raid, and his people were acting weird. They’d been going on smaller raids in pairs, hitting individual shipments that they figured Silco wouldn’t be guarding. Apparently they’d been wrong, because Jinx had been at every single one. None of them had been successful. 

Somehow none of them had died either, which could be considered a miracle with that number of encounters in a row. Jinx was usually too busy with more important matters to guard Shimmer, and the times that she showed up at their raids were almost always marked with funerals. Between the lack of casualties and the shifty, avoidant way they answered his questions, Ekko was sure there was something going on that they weren’t telling him and he didn’t know why.

At the moment, he was with Scar, getting ready to execute a raid of his own. Before he’d left, Eve and Crow had both warned him that Jinx was getting more unpredictable and more dangerous, so he should watch for new weapons. Punk had avoided his questioning gaze.

The idea of Jinx making new weapons—apparently to great effect—gave him a feeling that was decidedly fond and a little bit proud, which is not what he should be feeling about this new development. He needed to be on his guard, and he needed to figure out what was going on with his friends. He glanced over at Scar, who was hovering next to him and waiting for his signal. Should he ask about it now? Ekko shook his head; the window of opportunity would be short, and it was coming up quickly. He would ask afterward.

He pulled out his pocket watch with a well-practiced flick, watching the little trolley full of Shimmer slowly roll to a stop. Soon it would be moved to a wooden cart, and his time to strike would be directly after the trolley full of chem thugs rolled away. Only four guards would be left—five if Jinx managed to be here as well—which is easy enough pickings for himself and Scar. Jinx would be a problem, of course, but if Scar could keep her occupied, Ekko could destroy the merchandise and get out. They didn’t actually have to win against her to complete their mission, after all.

The trolley rolled away.

“Now,” he hissed, hitting the timer as he fell into a dive. He didn’t really need the watch as the time ticked down in his head, every movement and moment planned and timed. First, hit two guards during the initial dive. His aim was true, and both were encased in crystal. 

Four seconds. 

He took a flashy loop to get the attention of the other two, winding back like he was going to attack, but they were hit from behind by Scar as he streaked by. 

Seven seconds.

Starting now, they had five minutes before the crystals lost their structural integrity. This much Shimmer wouldn’t take five minutes to destroy; they’d basically already succeeded. He hadn’t seen Jinx, though, which could turn the tide on a dime. He kept his guard up.

Good thing, too, because one of the Shimmer barrels exploded like a demented jack-in-the-box, sending a giggling Jinx flying into the air over him.

“Surprise! Were you surprised?” she cackled, leveling a strange looking pistol at him. It was glowing, and he was pretty sure the barrel wasn’t hollow—but he didn’t get a very clear look before he was diving to the side on instinct. A flash of blue electricity crackled through the air where he was a moment ago, and Jinx pouted at him. He narrowed his eyes and said nothing, unsure if he could trust himself to respond. They’d avoided each other on some unwritten agreement for years, but now she smiled at him like she expected to be friends again. It did things to his heart that he couldn’t address right now.

Scar came to his rescue, or tried to. Both crystal bombs were shot out of the air with her other pistol, and a bomb was clamped to his staff as he swung and whiffed over her head. He threw the weapon away before it could explode.

“Rude,” Jinx snarked, rolling her eyes in mild irritation. She turned her attention to the large Chirean, and Ekko took the distraction as a chance to dash for the Shimmer. He pried open the first barrel with the gear at the end of his clock hand, revealing at least ten gallons of the drug. He glanced over his shoulder and met Jinx’s eyes, but as she tried to switch targets to him, Scar dive bombed her again. She growled in frustration. 

Ekko picked up the barrel to empty it over the others, noticing it felt surprisingly light for being full of the liquid drug. When he heard the mechanical click of a pressure plate, he realized he’d made a mistake. It was heavy and solid sounding, tactile—just like Powder had always liked in her gadgets.

He cursed as the bottom half of the barrel fell away, revealing a grinning monkey face spray painted over the most complicated chemtech explosive device he’d ever seen. It had probably four times the number of chambers as any bomb he’d seen, and it went off in his face before he had a chance to think about what that meant. 

Luckily, it didn’t translate to “bigger boom, Ekko go splat.” Whatever was in the extra chambers coated him entirely in thick pink paint—or maybe plaster? It was expanding rapidly and hardening like clay, and soon he was completely unable to move. Or see. Or, as the gaps between his face and his mask were sealed, breathe.

Just before he could panic, it started flaking away from his mask with a hissing sound. He could breathe again in a matter of seconds, and even though he hadn’t been without oxygen for long, the scare had him gulping down air as he tried to calm his heartbeat. It took a little longer before the substance had dissolved enough to see out of his mask, and the first thing he saw was Jinx. Dread pooled in his stomach. Where was Scar? Was he really going to get caught like this?

“You alright, savior boy?” Jinx asked with a grin, but with her face this close Ekko could see the uncertainty she was masking. Was she worried? Really, actually worried about him? He didn’t think she cared anymore.

“Scared the shit outta me,” he admitted, his voice coming out garbled and distorted through the modulator. He saw the set of her shoulder shift just slightly, the crease in her brow disappear, the corners of her mouth turning upward into a genuine expression. Has she always been this easy to read? It was hard to tell when so much conflict and fighting filled their meetings prior to this. With a bit more time, maybe he could convince her to free him—there was more of Powder left than he realized.

A click came from Ekko’s jacket where the pocket watch sat. Crackling noises met his ears as the crystals began to break, freeing the chem thug guards, and Ekko cursed.

“Aw, you were so close,” Jinx commiserated, slapping a small device on his back. There was a high-pitched whine, and the pink plaster shattered all at once, setting him free. At first, he was too shocked to react. Jinx shoved Scar’s unconscious body into his arms, forcing him into motion. 

“Better run! Oh, and Silco still wants to meet you,” she called as he ran to his hoverboard. He paused for a moment, his mind racing in a sort of surreal haze, struggling to comprehend his situation, but everything was happening too fast and he couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t remember wanting anything as badly as he wanted to just talk to Powder right now, Silco’s goons were charging at him and Scar was unconscious. He gritted his teeth and streaked away, his mission left unaccomplished, his heart and mind left in utter turmoil. For the first time in years, as he flew away from Powder, he couldn’t stop himself from looking back.

She was smiling. He looked away.

He stormed into the war room, having called a council the moment he’d arrived back at the Sanctuary. He’d nearly turned around a dozen times during his retreat, burning questions forming through the confusion as he had time to think, and only the knowledge that Scar was depending on him kept him on course. He was in a foul mood, and the realization of why his friends had been so tight-lipped wasn’t helping. 

Scar had woken up near the end of the ride, and although Ekko had been too frazzled to do more than a basic health checkup, the Chirean had seemed subdued in a way that worried Ekko. In the mental state he was in, worry only translated to more anger, and he was struggling to keep his thoughts rational.

His closest friends, the people who had helped found the Firelights and now acted as a loose leadership, all flinched as the door flew open, slamming against the wall. He had barely the presence of mind to regret the excessive force, hoping he didn’t damage the door. Crow’s eyes dropped to his jacket and she paled. He met her eyes, slowly brushing away the chips of pink that still clung to him from Jinx’s trap. His movement drew attention, the others tensing as they noticed what Crow had.

Silence fell as he looked at each of them, one by one. The members of this makeshift council were loosely defined, and there were four of them that could make it today. Eve, who met his eyes but couldn’t hide the guilty wringing of her hands. Punk, who was trying to lounge confidently across his seat but kept shifting positions, unable to speak up. Crow, who was so unnaturally still she could be a statue, face colorless. And Scar, who was the only one who seemed completely unintimidated. Ekko’s knuckles were white where he gripped the table, the wood creaking under the pressure.

The tension built, rising steadily in the silence until finally, Ekko exploded.

“What the fuck, guys!” he snarled, throwing his hands up and beginning to pace, working out his anger as non-violently as he could manage.

“What?” Eve shot back defensively. “I told you I didn’t trust him!”

“And?” Ekko demanded, incredulous. “I don’t trust him either, but I thought I trusted you! Just how much shit did you leave out of your reports?”

“That bitch wanted me to be her fucking messenger, like I owe her for sparing my life!” she hissed, on her feet now. “Like I’m supposed to say thank you, and just forget that she killed my brother!”

“I don’t give a shit about what she told you to tell me,” he snapped. “I went in blind, because you didn’t fucking tell me what happened! We’ve gone two weeks ignoring messages from—from the most unpredictable person in Zaun! What if she got impatient, and decided she was done with her non-lethal phase? Huh?” He leaned forward, getting right in Eve’s face. “We’d both be dead!”

She flinched away, glaring down at the table. The scowl didn’t leave Ekko’s face as he turned to Punk and Crow. “And what’s your excuse?” he said, still seething.

They both avoided eye contact, Punk hastily sitting upright in his seat. “Uh…”

“Forget it, I don’t want to hear it,” Ekko backtracked, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, still unable to get his seething thoughts under control. His frustration with them was real and valid, but that wasn’t where this emotion was coming from and he knew it. “I’ll report on my mission, and then hopefully you all can finish yours.” They cringed away from his glare. Scar stayed silent, as he had the entire meeting so far.

He told them about the Shimmer barrels, how Jinx had hidden inside one and trapped the other with her plaster bomb, as they were calling it. Scar spoke up about her new gun, the one Ekko had noticed didn’t have a hollow barrel for a bullet. Apparently it fired concentrated blasts of electricity, and had knocked him unconscious with a solid hit. The rest of his friends nodded along, listening intently.

Crow spoke up timidly when he was finished. “If you carried Scar back to base, what happened to his board?” she asked.

Ekko’s eyes closed as the realization hit him, his hands tightening into fists at his side. He’d messed up again, badly. He tried to breathe, to talk himself down, but after everything, this was too much. He snapped, whirling around and punching the back wall hard enough to crack the wood, sending shockwaves of pain up his bones. He screamed in wordless frustration.

“Hey man, it’s okay,” Punk tried, making his way over cautiously. He put a hesitant hand on Ekko’s shoulder, and Ekko had to make a conscious effort not to shrug it off or slap it away. He hated pushing people away, but… he needed some time to himself. 

“Ekko, it’s not your fault—” Eve started, but he interrupted her.

“Meeting adjourned,” he said hoarsely, and started for the door. He ignored several calls to wait, snatched his hoverboard, and then he was gone. 

[]

Silco massaged his temples with his fingers, careful not to irritate the scar tissue on his left side. The chembarons were being insufferable lately; was he the only person who could remember where they’d come from? Power was not a good look for any of them. Finn had style at least, but he was supposed to be a leader , not a fashionista. All they could think about was where the next dollar was coming from, never sparing a thought for their nation. Just like the Council they were, and Silco couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

And, speaking of the Council, they had been especially vainglorious these last few weeks as well. Touting the achievements of this Jayce Talis as if they hadn’t tried stifling him before realizing how much they could profit off his back. He almost felt sympathy for the boy, unaware he was being taken advantage of, but at least he received fame and adoration in return. As if plastering his face over trinkets, selling them to make more money off of him, made up for monopolizing his dream. 

But, well, he was a Topsider. He wasn’t starving, that was for sure, and he certainly wouldn’t believe Silco over his generous benefactors even if he were to warn him. 

The only thing that seemed to be going right these days was the mission he’d given Jinx. She seemed happier, more excited, and even Sevika had to admit she was extremely effective. Somehow, whether it was the nature of her new weapons or her new mindset of tackling a challenge, she was causing less damage and guarding the cargo better while not killing the Firelights. Perhaps he could encourage her to be non-lethal even if he ultimately failed to negotiate, just to push her creativity.

Silco looked up as she appeared in the doorway, as if just thinking of her was a summoning. Like her name, he thought, amused. Jinx.

“This is taking too long,” she said loudly in lieu of greeting. She walked into the room dragging her feet, as if trying to have patience was physically rooting her to the floor. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What is?” he asked, even though he already knew. She hadn’t been working on anything else for nearly a month.

“The stupid Firelights!” she spat, throwing herself onto his desk and languishing in her irritation. He didn’t know how she managed to do that without disturbing his papers or knocking over the many trinkets she had made for him over the years. “They’re being annoying.”

“How so?” he prompted, reclining into his chair and giving her space. She always moved her hands when she talked, but especially so when she was frustrated. She’d accidentally whacked him across the face before, and they both learned from that experience. 

“It’s just— ugh!” She demonstrated his thoughts with a wild gesticulation, her hand clenched around one of her gadgets. “He won’t listen! Thinks it’s too big of a risk, or something. One of ‘em said they don’t know what you’d want, and that scares them.” She hesitated, turning to face him. “What do you want from them?”

Silco hummed thoughtfully. His finger tapped on the arm of his chair, a coded message ingrained in his muscle memory. It meant “stay”, and Jinx’s fidgeting calmed slightly as she waited. The message had started as a way for her to ask for his help when others were around, then evolved as he used it to signal her, asking her to back him up when meetings and deals got dicey. Now, it has lost most of its literal meaning. She tapped it out in his rafters, he on his desk or cigar case, letting each other know they were aware and appreciated each other’s presence.

“There are many things I need,” he finally said. Jinx rolled her eyes, and he could already hear the sarcastic response: “Real helpful,” she’d snark. But he continued before she could say anything. “I don’t know the goals of the Firelights, other than to stop Shimmer, nor do I know all of their strengths, so it’s impossible to say what exactly they will do for me. Perhaps delivery and communication, or their engineers could assist with the armory. It depends on the negotiations, really.”

Jinx sat quietly for a while. Not silently, because silence with Jinx was dangerous; just quiet, humming quietly and moving her hands, playing with her new gadgets as she thought. Finally, she seemed to reach a conclusion. She set her jaw and her shoulders in a way that scared Silco a little, but he trusted her. She tapped out their little code before leaping to her feet and exiting the room with a flourish, and Silco chuckled a little at the irony.

Stay, she’d said. And then she’d left.

[]

Jinx frowned at the disassembled hoverboard in front of her, perplexed. Not because she couldn’t replicate it, of course. She understood it just fine, recognized the genius behind it—the familiar genius—and felt reasonably confident she could make her own. But, if this was Ekko’s design like she thought it was, why was it so boring?

It did look wicked fun to fly, she’d admit. But every part of the design, every single feature, of which there were many , was so dreadfully practical. Every component did its job and was streamlined to be as minimalistic as possible, impressive in a lot of ways. But for a gang known for their graffiti and distinctive style? Their boards had no personality. If she were to talk to this machine like she talked to her guns, she was sure it would give monotone, one-word answers.

Oh, well. She could fix that when she made her own! She already had her paint ready, which she would admit was getting ahead of herself as she hadn’t actually started building it yet. She planned as she worked, making a much more interesting version of the bland hoverboard. What the Firelights needed, she thought, was just a little bit of urgency. She needed them to give her an answer, and she needed it to not be no.

So, how to go about that? She’d found her answer in Silco’s office, after pondering everything he’d told her about them and everything she already knew about Ekko.

“The Firelights are close-knit, Jinx,” she muttered to herself in her, admittedly, awful imitation of Silco. “Well, if they care about each other so much, maybe a… um, what’s the fancy word for kidnapping?” One of the shadows in the corner of her vision whispered to her; she was pretty sure it was Claggor. 

“Right!” she agreed, snapping her fingers. “A hostage. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Of course it could hurt, Mylo sneered in her ear. You’re the one who came up with it. There’s a reason you didn’t run this particular idea past Silco, isn’t there?

Jinx scowled, swiping aggressively through the air in that direction. Like he was a fly, or a patch of bad air. Mylo didn’t know anything. This was a good idea, and she’d show him. But Silco would tell her to think this through, consider consequences, and specify how it would achieve her goals. She didn’t often listen to his advice, but she owed it to him this time for not telling him about her plan.

So, first of all, how would she do it? That was easy enough. She’d caught basically all of them at least once. She just wouldn’t let them go, and give the message to their friends. Okay, so that’s the first part, all thought out.

Next step. Who would she capture? Now, this one was harder. She really wanted it to be Ekko, but then who would do the negotiating? Maybe the tall Chirean, with the bat ears. He seemed important, always with Ekko on missions. He might be hard to keep captured though without hurting him, considering how much bigger he was than her. She didn’t really remember any of the others individually, so she guessed just anyone other than Ekko or the big one would work. There; she considered consequences! Thinking ahead, and planning accordingly. She could do this.

Now for the last step: how would this help achieve her goals? It seemed obvious to her, but Silco always told her to put herself in the other people’s brains. Ekko’s brain was the most important in this situation, so she imagined she was him. 

Right now, he wouldn’t meet with Silco because he thought it was too risky. So, she was going to kidnap one of his people to force his hand. How would she feel if she was scared to do something, and someone tried to force her by kidnapping Silco?

She frowned. Well, she sure wouldn’t do what that person wanted her to, that’s for sure. Maybe this idea wasn’t as good as she thought. She remembered how Silco told her she was hurting Ekko every time she hurt a Firelight, then imagined the way he would look at her when she took one of his people. 

She groaned loudly in frustration, hurling one of the chem vials in her hand at the wall where it shattered and exploded. 

“Oh wait, I needed that!” she realized. She let out an irritated huff, folding her arms and throwing herself back in her chair. Thinking things through sucked. She’d always just lived in the moment and improvised before and it had worked out fine, hadn’t it? 

She hesitated. Well, it had worked out when her goal was to make a mess of things. This was important to her, and the last thing she wanted was to jinx it all again. She sighed in defeat. Mylo was right, again. She wouldn’t kidnap a Firelight. But, that didn’t mean she’d just keep up this old song and dance either; she’d keep her eye out for anything she could do to convince him. Ekko would see that this was their chance to be friends again, he had to. 

She would make him see.

Chapter Text

Silco’s actions with the Firelights had finally been noticed. He was honestly surprised it took this long, but he supposed it was a testament to the chambarons’ incompetency. Smeech was in his office, demanding that he start killing the little bugs and stop showing mercy. Silco let out a sigh, resting his forehead against his fingers.

“That’s my product!” Smeech was saying, his mechanical limbs clicking and rotating. “Stupid kids have been after my shit for years, and suddenly you’re going soft on ‘em?”

“I’ve simply been encouraging Jinx to pursue less… destructive means of protecting our cargo,” Silco replied, a hard edge in his voice in response to Smeech questioning him. “Surely you’ve noticed profits rise? Less of the Firelights are dying, but more Shimmer is making it to your destination undamaged.”

Smeech shut up, but he still looked unhappy. His wrist spun, fingers clacking against his leg restlessly. Silco watched him carefully for any sign that he knew of the plans to recruit the Firelights. If word got back to any of the chembarons they would lash out; justifiably so, because if it worked, Silco would be eliminating all of them. They had good self-preservation instincts, if nothing else.

“Unless, of course, you would prefer that I redirect her back to making bombs?” Silco suggested offhandedly. “She’s gotten quite good at them.” He watched as the fight seemed to vanish from Smeech’s body language. After what had happened to the Slickjaws, the mere idea of getting Jinx set on them cowed the chembarons into line whenever Sevika’s usual intimidation didn’t work. The yordle’s eyes dropped to the ground, and after a moment, he nodded.

“Alright, you make a good point. As always, boss. As long as the product stays safe, I guess I don’t got any complaints,” he grumbled. 

“Good,” Silco said, nodding toward the door. “You’re dismissed.”

The chembaron stood in that strange way of his, simply extending his legs until he was no longer on the chair, and he stalked away with a whir of machinery. Silco didn’t watch him go, and he missed the calculating glance he threw back into the room—but Jinx didn’t.

“He’s planning something,” she said from where she sprawled across the rafters. Her arm hung down, swinging back and forth.

“Smeech?” Silco said skeptically, glancing at the door he’d just exited.

“Not against you, probably,” Jinx admitted, swinging down to land on his desk. “But I don’t trust it.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed as he pondered. He’d made a rule for himself never to dismiss what she said out of hand, and he’d found she had sharp intuition. Her hunches were usually on the right track, at least. “The Firelights,” he decided. “He must mean to eliminate them himself, after you trap them.”

Jinx’s whole body tensed, her eyes narrowing to slits, and Silco rested a hand on hers. She took a few heartbeats to calm down enough to listen to him talk. “Is there anything you want me to tell him?” he asked her.

She just shook her head, but her mind was whirling. “No,” she said, and she didn’t know what she sounded like but it made Silco almost look worried. “I’ll take care of it,” she promised.

[]

Ekko still hadn’t reconciled with his fellow Firelights, and it was showing in their teamwork. Coordination and trust was always their biggest asset as a team, and he could tell even Jinx had noticed from the way she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him. She’d taken to using finger guns to demonstrate every time she could have killed one of them, and while it was driving the others mad, Ekko found it… amusing. That wasn’t quite the right word, but the only other one he could think of was endearing, which just couldn’t be right.

Today, though, she seemed even more off her game than Ekko’s team was. Her eyes were darting every which way even after she’d clocked all of the Firelights in the raid. There were six of them today—Ekko, Scar, Eve, and three of the newer members—and Jinx was having a hard time keeping up with them and protecting the Shimmer at the same time. She hadn’t trapped anyone yet either, which seemed odd because she definitely had a few chances. 

Ekko signaled to Scar and Eve, and they veered away from harassing Jinx to regroup. She didn’t take the chance to attack, and Ekko narrowed his eyes.

“Something’s wrong with Jinx,” he said shortly, his eyes never leaving the battlefield. “I don’t know what’s up, but keep your eyes open.” One of the newer members managed to score a hit on Jinx’s leg, opening up a nasty gash as if to illustrate his point. No one but the most experienced of their fighters had ever landed a hit on her in the past.

Eve and Scar glanced at each other, then nodded. With that, they were all back in the fray, trying to get past Jinx to the Shimmer barrels below the deck of the airship. Ekko’s nerves were tingling as he swooped past, checking to make sure the other chem thugs were still trapped. He didn’t understand why they could never trap Jinx on their initial pass through; everything would be so much easier, if they could just manage that.

He caught a flicker of movement through the cabin door, and his stomach dropped. What was going on? Why were they not joining the fight, if there were more fighters in hiding? He hesitated to leave the fight, but ultimately decided to duck through the trap door in all the chaos, mostly unnoticed. He pried open one of the barrels.

It was empty.

“Shit,” he swore, sprinting back up to the deck. They needed to get out of here. His cry to retreat was caught in his throat at the sight of what awaited him outside, and his blood turned to ice. Eve had ended up in a melee with Jinx, and her mask had gotten knocked off. Jinx was unmoving, already rattled before the fight even started, with Eve’s wrist locked in an iron grip. 

“Vi…?” Powder whispered as Eve continued to struggle, stuck in some kind of trance. The door to the cabin at the other end of the airship flew open, Smeech and half a dozen of his men pouring through, but Jinx didn’t seem to even notice. 

“Best chance we’re gonna get,” Smeech growled. “Go, go!”

Ekko finally found his voice. “Retreat!” he screamed, running for Eve. Smeech’s men might be augmented by chemtech, but the Firelights were still faster. Scar and the others made it off the ship and out of the fray, but they stayed close, circling underneath the ship as they waited for Ekko and Eve.

Ekko was intercepted by one of the chem thugs before he could reach Eve, which became two and then three opponents as they all rushed forward. Chemtech arms whirred, and Ekko ducked and weaved through super-powered punches. Luckily the augments didn’t increase their skill, or he might really be in trouble. 

The other three had rushed Eve, but they hesitated when they reached Jinx. They glanced at each other and one shrugged. Eve was throwing all her weight against Jinx’s grip, desperate to escape as the chemthugs reached for her.

A gunshot froze everyone in their tracks—even the guys fighting Ekko whipped around, then went still. “Shut up,” Jinx snapped, her eyes wild. The bullet had grazed the cheek of the man reaching for Eve, and blood slowly trickled down his face as he stood stock-still in terror. 

“You’re lying,” she hissed at no one, swiping her hand through the air to the right of her. “That’s not what happened!”

Smeech cleared his throat, and Ekko gaze whipped over to him, incredulous. Was this guy really stupid enough to try talking with her right now? “Hey, Baby Blue… calm down, okay? We’ll take care of these two, you can just relax and—”

A bullet hole appeared between his feet, sending splinters of wood into his face as he staggered back, cursing. “I’m not weak!” Jinx exploded, advancing on him. “This is my job, and I can do it. Oh wait it isn’t, because you lied to me! You hired me to guard cargo that isn’t even there!”

All of the chem thugs were tracking Jinx with their eyes, so distracted that they didn’t notice as Ekko slipped across the deck to Eve’s side. She was shaking, staring at Jinx as she continued to rip into Smeech, making him cower nearly back into the cabin he’d been hiding in. 

Ekko pulled gently on her wrist, motioning a jerk of his head that they should run while they had the chance. She nodded, glancing back before slowly getting to her feet, and they tried to make their way to the edge of the airship. Ekko turned to face forward, and came face to face with one of the guards still trapped in a crystal bomb. He cursed.

“They’re getting away!” the guard shouted a warning, and the deck launched back into a frenzy of motion. Ekko started sprinting, pulling Eve along with him, and the guy closest to them lunged, his arm clicking and hissing as he thrust it towards them. His hand shot forward, attached to a cable; it closed around Eve’s ankle, and her hand was ripped from Ekko’s as she was dragged back. The other thugs were on them now, another jumping on Eve to pin her down and the rest coming for Ekko. They might outnumber him, but as long as Jinx stayed neutral, he could take them all down. He tried to avoid all out brawls, but he’d come a long way from the little boy who couldn’t copy one of Vi’s punches. Like hell he was going to leave one of his people. 

The crystals holding the other guards finally started to break, further stacking the odds against him. He tightened his grip on his clock-hand pipe. He could still do this. He took his first swing, taking the first guy off his feet and out of the fight immediately, but before he could lunge into the fray, he felt someone pull him back, arms around his waist.

“No!” Ekko screamed. He struggled against Scar’s grip, but they were already over the open air. He kept fighting to get free, to pull his board from behind him and fly back, and Scar threw him over his shoulder. He could see as the chemthugs pulled Eve up from the ground, two holding her up as another slugged her in the stomach. He could see as they asked her something, their forms growing smaller as distance grew, and he could see as she spat in Smeech’s face in response to whatever he’d said. The last thing Ekko saw, as Smeech wound his hand back furiously, blades sprouting from his wrist, was an explosion of pink that coated the entire deck before the ship was gone from view.

“Please, Jinx,” he begged in a whisper, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. Even though he knew she might be the one to kill his friend herself. He closed his eyes, almost like a prayer. “Please. I believe in you.”

He was surprised to realize he was telling the truth.

Please be okay.

[]

Jinx was paralyzed. She didn’t know what to do, she felt weak, and she hated it. Mylo was screaming louder than Smeech’s men as they charged Ekko and his friend that wasn’t Vi. She had been so careful to not trap the Firelights, she’d let Ekko get below the deck to find the empty Shimmer barrels, which she hadn’t even booby-trapped. They were going to run, Smeech was going to be angry, and everything was going to be okay. And then she’d Jinxed it all to hell.

This girl didn’t even look like Vi! She was shorter and less muscular, for one, and her outfit actually covered her arms. The only similarity was her hair, and apparently that was enough for Jinx to lose her shit. 

Even though she was right there, she felt like a spectator, silently rooting for the two of them against all odds. Ekko’s tall Chirean friend pulled him from the fight at the last moment, but the pink-haired girl was already pinned by two of Smeech’s henchmen and surrounded by the rest. She was left alone, though Jinx could see Ekko struggling to get back to her as they flew away. 

The thing that finally jolted her back into reality was the sound that the Firelight made after one of the thugs sucker punched her in the gut. Jinx’s eyes snapped toward her at the ragged gasp for breath, a painful gagging sound as the air was knocked from her. Her gasp sounded wet, accompanied by a metallic shink from the man’s arm. Red bloomed around a hole in her shirt; there was a blade augment in the guy’s fist.

For some reason Jinx didn’t understand, the girl was staring directly at her, her eyes pleading. Like she thought Jinx, of all people, could save her. She thought Jinx could help. She was asking Jinx to help her, even if it wasn’t out loud. And, well, Powder only ever wanted to help. Jinx couldn’t stop herself from indulging a little bit, pretending she wasn’t Jinx, that she was some kind of Savior like Ekko. She pulled out a cement bomb just as Smeech’s blades extended, his face twisted with rage at whatever the girl had just said or done, and whipped it straight into the back of the chembaron’s head. 

He staggered forward for one step before it exploded, and with all dozen or so of his thugs gathered conveniently around, only one of them managed to avoid being trapped in pink plaster. All Jinx had to do was look at him and he shrank away, locking himself in the cabin. 

Jinx ran forward, nearly tripping over her own trembling legs, the gash she’d gotten from that Firelight reminding her of its existence. She limped as quickly as she could, breath coming hard and fast. “Shit,” she whispered to herself as she used her little sonic device to free the Firelight girl from her trap. The false cement that her plaster hardened into was designed to shatter under a specific high-frequency vibration. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The girl gasped in a deep breath as she was freed, collapsing into Jinx’s chest. Jinx herself nearly toppled over, her injured leg trying to give out from under her. Not-Vi looked up and met Jinx’s eyes, squinting as a combination of gratitude, wariness, and confusion passed over her face. 

“You need to run, get out of here,” Jinx hissed at her, but she just shook her head. She looked over her shoulder and Jinx followed her gaze, seeing the ruins of her hoverboard, sparking in two separate pieces. 

“Fucking hell,” Jinx groaned. “Follow me,” she said, starting to limp away, but the other girl stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Jinx turned partially, raising her eyebrows in irritation.

“Are you just going to let them die?” the girl demanded, her voice accusatory. Jinx turned around fully, confused.

“What?”

The Firelight gestured at the chem thugs and Smeech, still trapped in solidified pink goop. “You know they can’t breathe,” she insisted. “Are you going to let them suffocate?”

Jinx blinked, cocking her head to the side. “They were going to kill you,” she pointed out. She quickly corrected herself. “Well, they were going to torture you for information on the Firelight hideout first, make your life a living hell for… maybe a month? But then they were going to kill you. That’s a chembaron right there,” she said, waving her hand toward the immobilized Smeech.

The girl hesitated, then her eyes hardened. “That’s not what I asked.”

“What do you care if they die? They’re your enemies,” Jinx snapped. The Firelight girl just glared at her. 

“The Firelights don’t kill,” she told her, her voice hard.

“Newsflash, I’m not a Firelight.”

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away. After a moment she met Jinx’s eyes again. “Please,” she said. “Just let them breathe.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, hard. “Fine,” she snapped. “Not like it’s me they’re trying to kill, kiddo.”

“There’s no way you’re older than me,” the girl protested. Jinx just shrugged. 

“Whatever.” She used small pulses from her release device to shatter the plaster around each person’s mouth and nose, then she let the dumb Firelight check their breathing while she struggled down the ladder below deck. She retrieved a large parcel, as tall as she was and wrapped in brown cloth to conceal it. It was quite heavy, and with her leg, it took what felt like a lifetime to lug it back to the surface. 

Her leg was still seeping blood, and she was starting to get dizzy by the time she threw her parcel to the deck in front of the pink-haired Firelight. She was holding her stomach, face pale, and she looked even worse than Jinx felt. 

“You need a patch job,” Jinx observed, panting. The girl glanced at her and gave a weak laugh.

“You’re one to talk. What’s that?”

Jinx knelt and whipped the cloth away from the item she’d grabbed dramatically, revealing her treasure: a fully beautified hoverboard, complete with x-ed out eyes and metal shark teeth. It was bigger and clunkier than the Firelights’ version, but all the more perfect for it. She turned it on and it coughed to life with a sputter, and then a soft hum and pink glow. 

“Ta-da! Time to get out of here.” The girl gawked, and Jinx smirked. 

It took several minutes to get situated on the board. The Firelight didn’t have the strength to stand on her own anymore and with the wound on her leg, there was no way Jinx could support two people. She maneuvered into an awkward sort of sitting position with the pink-haired Firelight held across her lap, before gently rising into the air and taking off. Or, well. Gently by Jinx’s standards. Poor not-Vi seemed jarred and rattled by every bump and dip, like a hoverboard ride wasn’t supposed to be bumpy. 

“Don’t worry,” Jinx assured the Firelight. “I’ve got you. Not sure how comforting it is that it’s me of all people you’re relying on, but hey. Take what you can get, right?”

The girl stared at her silently, her eyes darting around Jinx’s face like she was trying to read her intentions. Her gaze was curious and wary, but dazed—probably blood loss, shock, or a mix of the two. Jinx cocked her head to the side.

“Nothing to say?” she prompted.

Usually, these Firelights were altogether too silent and brooding for Jinx’s tastes. This one must have been just confused and out of it enough to respond to Jinx’s questions. “Doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered, barely audible over the whir of the hoverboard and the air rushing past her ears. “Why?”

“Not sure what you’re askin me, toots,” Jinx replied cheerfully. 

“Never seen this side of you,” the girl grunted, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Why are you… nice, now? Why only after…?”

She fell silent, her eyes slipping closed, and Jinx felt her heart clench uncomfortably. She knew what the girl was asking. Jinx was familiar with the feeling of guilt—usually much more intense than what she felt right now—but she couldn’t understand why she was feeling it at that moment. What was there for her to be guilty about? The Firelight friends had attacked her first, threatened the only thing she had left after she destroyed everything, so she had killed them. It wasn’t her fault any more than it was the ground’s fault for killing people who jumped from high places.

Fortunately for Jinx, her shock was wearing off and the gash in her leg was growing impossible to ignore. Not-Vi also needed some urgent in-field medical attention, no time to get her to a doctor, which left no time for thinking about useless things that didn’t feel good. Jinx guided the hoverboard toward the nearest of Silco’s safehouses. There would be medical supplies there.

She tried to think back to the few practice sessions she’d had so far as she slowed to a stop, a few feet above the ground. She… hadn’t really gotten the hang of dismounting yet, and she didn’t want to relive any of her experiences so far with a bad leg and an injured passenger. Jinx hesitated.

Not-Vi stirred awake, noticing the lack of movement. “What’s going on?” she asked in a strained voice, trying to sit up. Jinx stopped her, holding her steady.

“Uh,” she said eloquently. “I… don’t know how to get us off this thing.”

The Firelight girl started to laugh, until she stopped with a wince. Jinx scowled. “It’s not that funny,” she muttered.

“At least there’s something you can’t do right immediately,” the girl snickered. As if she thought Jinx did everything right, other than this one time. Jinx didn’t know how to respond to that—couldn’t begin to explain how wrong she was—so she stayed silent. Her chest ached.

“Well I usually just jump and hope for the best, but I’m carrying your sorry ass right now,” she managed after a moment, mustering all the fake indignation she could. Not-Vi looked at her a little weird, so maybe she didn’t do a very good job but, mercifully, they moved on.

“If yours is half as sturdy as Ekk—as the Firelights’,” she corrected, “it’s strong enough to just land on. Just lower the power until you’re on the floor and then turn it off.” Those two sentences were obviously a huge effort, and her breathing was getting more labored. Jinx had to hurry. 

She followed the simple instructions—which she could only do because she was sitting on the board instead of standing—and once they were on the ground, she got to work. She found an emergency medical kit in a cupboard and dumped the contents on the ground.

She started on herself, using the scissors to cut away her pant leg. There was a leather strip that she put between her teeth, biting down before using the alcohol to disinfect the cut. She hissed but ignored the pain, and when she was done, she grabbed the stapler. It didn’t take long but the moments were agonizing, short screams and broken giggles coming out muffled through her clenched teeth. Finally she wrapped the wound in gauze and bound it with cloth bandages; nowhere near professional, but good enough, she thought. She let out a breath of relief, taking the leather from between her teeth. Jinx turned to not-Vi, who had watched the whole process with wide, very frightened eyes. 

“Not as bad as it looks,” Jinx lied dryly. “Your turn.”

The Firelight girl’s face was deathly pale, but Jinx was pretty sure it was more because of the blood loss than fear of an impromptu surgery. Jinx let out a short cackle at the expression on her face. The girl tried to fend her off weakly for about two seconds. She didn’t have the strength left to do much more, and Jinx was soon cutting away her shirt to get at the wound. She cleaned it with alcohol, wincing at the sight. Not pretty. She reached for the staple gun and pressed it against skin.

The girl cried out, writhing with impressive energy considering her state. “Careful,” she whimpered, and Jinx paused. Even though she shouldn’t, she was starting to like this girl. Reluctantly, she set down the stapler and grabbed a needle and suture thread. She went back to work more carefully, trying not to cause more pain than necessary. The girl stilled, seeming surprised Jinx had bothered listening, and Jinx stubbornly refused to meet her questioning gaze.

After several long moments that felt even longer, she tied off the stitch with bloody hands. She smiled triumphantly and quickly wrapped it up. The Firelight panted and groaned, eyelids fluttering, and Jinx realized she was probably having the adrenaline crash of a lifetime. Jinx could feel a crash of her own coming on, and she needed to be home before that happened.

“Alright, up we go!” she said, picking the girl up—probably not as gently as she should have—and heaving her onto the hoverboard. They ended up in a similar position as last time, with Jinx’s leg still unable to support their weight. With minimal near-crashes and only one bump into the wall, Jinx lifted the two of them from the room and back into the open air. She wasn’t sure what to do next, which meant her obvious next stop was Silco. He’d know what to do, he always did.

Jinx glanced down at the girl who had fallen unconscious again, rather precariously balanced across her legs on the hoverboard. Ekko sure knew how to pick ‘em, she thought with a little smile. She was starting to like the woman, and with a first impression as horrendous as theirs had been, that was pretty damn impressive. Of course, the unnamed Firelight still hated Jinx, but oh well. Par for the course in the life of a Jinx. 

Jinx chewed her bottom lip, looking down at the girl again. She wasn’t losing any more blood, but she still wasn’t looking good. The little bug would be okay, right? Jinx blocked out her thoughts and focussed on her destination. Of course she would be okay. Silco would make it okay.

[]

Silco had woken up that morning in a bad mood; a premonition of sorts, a gut feeling that today would be a bad day. He was not an overly superstitious man, and tried to ignore it. He couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t ignored it at that moment, watching his daughter limp into his office with her hands covered in blood. Theiram the bartender followed her in, carrying the limp body of a girl dressed like a Firelight, with short pink hair. Silco’s nerves lit up like lightning.

Jinx smirked at the look on his face. “See, I thought the same thing at first,” she joked, and as Silco got a clear look at her face he relaxed. “‘Course, my reaction was a little… more intense, but whatever.” 

“What happened?” he asked her as calmly as he could. He needed to be calm enough for the both of them.

“Smeech did what you said he was going to,” she grunted, sitting heavily in the chair across from his desk. “Problem was, it happened right after I knocked off this wacko’s mask. I… couldn’t react. One thing led to another, she got stabbed, I used a cement bomb.” She acted it out with her hands, making an explosion sound before miming Smeech getting stuck in place with a stupid look on her face. “I stopped the bleeding as best I could, but I don’t know how I did. Is she going to be okay?”

Silco’s eyes slid back to Theiram, who was standing in the doorway awkwardly. He gulped and shifted the Firelight’s body in his arms, his face starting to show the strain of carrying her around. Silco nodded sharply, rising to his feet.

“Theiram, shut down the bar and find Sevika,” he ordered, taking the girl into his own arms. Maybe it was because she reminded him of Violet, but he was expecting a dense, muscular weight to her; she was surprisingly light. “Jinx, help me with her.”

He wanted to let her rest, but however exhausted she looked, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate an order like that. Jinx almost always wanted to be a part of what he did, and considering that this affected her directly, she deserved to be there. Silco would do his best to make her comfortable at his side, however. He laid the girl out on the flood and felt her pulse and then her breath, and he instructed Jinx to remove the extra layers of clothes.

Theiram moved quickly—despite his rather timid demeanor, he was extremely efficient. It’s why Silco had him running his bar instead of a more intimidating man. Sevika appeared at the door in a matter of minutes, and despite the way her lips thinned when she saw a Firelight on his floor, she made herself helpful, carefully removing Jinx’s bandages and inspecting the stitches. 

“Not bad for a field job,” she admitted, and Jinx tried not to glow at the rare compliment from such a hard woman. “She’s probably got a concussion compounding with the blood loss,” Sevika continued as she rewrapped the wound much more neatly than Jinx had managed. “Best we can do is keep her comfortable and watch her breathing.”

Silco sat back on his heels and brushed the hair out of his face that had fallen. “We’ve done what we can,” he said. “Now finish your report.”

Jinx grimaced but nodded, and Sevika turned to listen. “Well for starters, there wasn’t any Shimmer on board,” she said, grunting as she tried to shift into a comfortable position. Her leg was bothering her more than she let on, and Silco frowned slightly.

He was so distracted by her well-being, it took a moment for her words to compute. His good eye narrowed. “What was Smeech up to?” he almost hissed.

“Well that’s the second thing,” Jinx continued, spinning her gun on her finger. Silco hadn’t even seen her take it from its holster. “Smeech was on board. He thought he was sneaky, but there’s not a lot of places you can hide six extra guys.”

Silco let his head fall into his hands. Smeech was extremely useful, particularly his body modification enterprises, but he would never be a good gambler or a good leader. He never once saw the bigger picture, and the risks he took were so poorly calculated he might as well be rigging the game for his opponents.

“So no Shimmer, but yes Smeech and half a dozen extra buddies hiding in the cabin. Obviously it was a trap, so I just didn’t trap any of the Firelights.” She glanced at the girl, then looked at the floor with a frown. “This one really had it out for me, kept diving in,” she said, jerking her head in her direction. “Eventually I smacked her with my gun, knocked her mask off. After that…”

Jinx pulled her knees up to her chest, pointedly not looking at anyone. Silco rested a hand on her back, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders when she tipped over and leaned into his side. “After that?” he prompted gently. She took a shaky breath.

“Well, I freaked out,” she continued, her voice gaining that manic edge it sometimes got. She giggled, like laughing would make it less painful. “Lost my marbles, and the next thing I know, Smeech’s guys ambushed us. Chased off the other Firelights, stabbed this one. I got ‘em all in a trap bomb and took her to a safe house, patched us up, and now we’re here.”

Silco tilted his head to the side, confused. “How did you get to a safehouse quickly enough? You were on an airship, and she likely would have bled out before you could land it.”

A real grin bloomed on Jinx’s face, banishing the gloomy and tense mania with typical emotional whiplash. “I made my own hoverboard, and it works!” she said excitedly, and Silco was sure she would be skipping around the room if her leg hadn’t been cut open earlier that day.

“A hoverboard?” he mused. If she’d replicated that technology that was incredible, but why hadn’t she mentioned it to him? And she still hadn’t mentioned what exactly happened to her leg.

Silco opened his mouth to question her further, but a low groan interrupted him. The pink-haired Firelight was stirring already, much sooner than he’d anticipated. She had some grit to her. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the ceiling, uncomprehending.

“Where… where am I?”

Chapter Text

The world was blurry, and everything sounded like it was underwater as Eve’s eyes fluttered open. Painfully slowly, the ceiling above her came into focus. “Where… where am I?” she mumbled, unable to summon the energy to turn her head, which was throbbing in pain that pulsed with every heartbeat. Jinx’s face appeared above her, and a spike of panic seized her chest.

She suddenly had the energy to move, scrambling back, until the pain in her abdomen registered again. She collapsed, screwing her eyes shut and forcing herself to keep breathing. Someone caught her head before she hit the floor, laying her down gently, and she felt grateful until she managed to open her eyes. The person who had caught her was Silco himself, and he gazed down on her with that demonic eye of his that made shivers run down her spine. His face was calm, like he was mildly, professionally interested in her well-being, and he radiated control in the same way that Jinx radiated chaos. Eve understood, suddenly, how these two held complete control of the undercity. They were both forces of nature, opposite and yet somehow working together.

Silco seemed to understand how much he scared her—he probably scared everyone, and how could he not know?—and he stepped back, giving her a chance to breathe. Jinx was suddenly there again, poking at her face and looking her over like that would actually help her ascertain Eve’s health. 

“How ya feelin’?” she asked, her voice playful but hoarse, like she screamed herself raw a moment ago. Her eyes looked tired and frantic, and her smile looked like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t.

“I’ve been better,” Eve managed, studiously ignoring Silco’s presence in the room. Jinx might be just as scary, but she was at least familiar.

A third voice snorted, coming from behind Eve, and Jinx helped her turn far enough to see who it was. Sevika—Eve’s eyes darkened. Silco, for the Firelights, was like the boogeyman. The cause of all their problems, a demon hiding in every shadow, but unknown. Jinx was like a natural disaster, raging through periodically and leaving chaos in her wake, unstoppable and unpredictable. Sevika, on the other hand, was like a more deadly version of the neighborhood bully. She wasn’t shrouded in mystery, she didn’t pull any strings, and she didn’t use devastating weapons that no one else could seem to craft. She was just tough as nails, mean as piss, and had a fearsome reputation that she’d built with bruises and scars.

“You know kid, I’m starting to get what Silco sees in you Firelights. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she said, and Eve’s eyes narrowed. Sevika might have been hated by the Firelights, but she was also respected. Her words felt like acknowledgement, which felt good even if it was coming from an ogre like Silco’s right hand.

“Like she’d care what and ogre like you thinks,” Jinx scoffed, and Eve blinked. That… sounded suspiciously like her and Jinx were on the same page. Which would be extremely strange, even after everything. 

Eve was having a hard time understanding why Jinx had helped her, but like she said, Jinx was like a storm. She was a force of nature, and anything good she did didn’t have to be understood, just accepted. But the thought that she might understand Jinx, that Jinx might understand her, made the storm feel all too human.

“Like you’d understand what I care about,” Eve shot back instead of dealing with her thoughts. Jinx just smirked at her, and Eve looked away.

Silco hummed thoughtfully, and against her better judgment, Eve glanced over at him. In the brief moment she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her, reading her inner thoughts like an open book. She shuddered and looked away, shaken. 

“Why is your leader refusing to meet me?” Silco asked her directly, and Jinx and Sevika’s bickering fell silent. His voice was low, smooth, and sharp, like a cold blade trailing lightly across her spine.

Eve swallowed her fear and met his eyes defiantly, not looking away even as she had to cross her arms just to hide the trembling in her hands. “You’re poisoning Zaun,” she spat, vitriol dripping from her words even as her voice shook slightly. “You’re just as bad as Topside.”

Silco bristled slightly, but then he blinked. “You call the Undercity ‘Zaun’?” he asked, his voice losing just a bit of the cold edge. He almost sounded… in awe, if a man like that could feel such an emotion.

Eve just nodded, confused but trying to hide it. “All the Firelights do. We’re tired of being Piltover’s runoff, and we deserve better than criminal overlords pushing drugs into the street. We deserve our own government, and the chance to improve our own lives.”

Silco was silent for a while, but Eve couldn’t tell what was going through his head. Jinx whistled, shooting Eve an impressed look. “Never thought I’d see him speechless,” she said. 

Eve rolled her eyes. Why would Silco be speechless? He was probably just thinking of ways to use the Firelights’ dream against them. Eve had just given him more information about themselves, and she nearly cursed out loud at her slip.

“Everything I do is for Zaun,” Silco finally spoke up, his words slow and soft but his eyes blazing. Eve swallowed hard, unable to look away. Despite herself, she believed him. But it didn’t make sense.

“Then why?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. “Why would you poison our people? Why would you ruin our lives?”  

Silco just shook his head. “I’ve already tried everything else.”

His words rang in Eve’s head, even as a new man arrived at the door, who Silco called Theiram and Jinx called Chuck. They discussed what to do with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention. What did he mean? Had he tried to stage a revolution in the past? Even if he had tried and failed, how did pushing shimmer into the homes and veins of the people of Zaun help anything? What was his plan?

She finally snapped out of it when Jinx got in her face, gently slapping her on the cheek. “Hey, you hear that kiddo? You’re with me until we figure something out with the Firelights.”

“You’re not older than me,” Eve protested again, grumbling. Jinx shrugged.

“Well I don’t know your name, so you’ll have to deal with the nicknames.”

“Don’t fall for it,” Sevika warned. “She’ll stick to the nicknames whether she knows your name or not.” Jinx stuck her tongue out like a child. The other guy, who’s name Eve had already forgotten, chuckled in agreement. He was a younger guy with short brown hair, and he was trying to avoid looking at Eve. She frowned, looking down at herself. 

Ah. Her jacket was on the floor next to her, and the bottom half of her shirt was cut away just under her bra, so her wound could be properly bandaged. Still, most Zaunites saw more than this on your average stroll down the lanes. She raised an eyebrow at him as she reached for her jacket and tried to shrug it on over her shoulders. He shrugged. Maybe, crazy idea that it was, he was just respectful rather than embarrassed? 

The movement to put on the jacket ended up being too much for her, and now she was the one feeling embarrassed as Jinx noticed her struggling and had to help her out. “So, what now?” Eve asked, looking at Jinx. “You take me to your secret hideout and hold me hostage until the Firelights meet with Silco?”

Jinx grinned at her. “Well there’s an idea,” she said thoughtfully, and Silco sighed.

“Jinx,” he said, a warning note in his voice, and she groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stick to the plan.” She made a face. “Okay, well, let’s get going.”

Eve watched as Jinx struggled to her feet, muttering curses about her injured leg. She blinked as Silco approached her, then crouched down like he was about to pick her up. She recoiled, and Silco smirked with a small chuckle. 

“What’s wrong? Afraid?” he asked her. She did her best to glare, and Silco rolled his eyes. “You’re not walking yourself, so unless you want to stay on the floor of my office for the foreseeable future, I will have to carry you.”

Eve looked to Jinx. “What about—”

“Jinx is injured, thanks to your Firelight friends,” Silco interrupted. He sounded angry about her injury, yet faintly amused at Eve’s hesitation. Jinx winced, looking almost apologetic. Eve glanced to Sevika for a moment, but chose not say anything about that. Sevika would hardly be better than Silco.

Finally, her eyes landed on the last person in the room. Jinx followed her gaze and laughed. “What do you think, Chuck? You up for it?” she asked, punching him in the shoulder. He winced, holding his arm and sidestepping away. 

“Uh,” he said, his eyes darting between Jinx, Silco, and Eve. “I—I carried her here, I guess,” he said with a shrug. His gaze lingered on Silco, a question if this was okay. Silco seemed to contemplate for a moment.

“Jinx, you realize this means showing Theiram where your shop is?” he checked, and Jinx paused. 

She turned to Theiram, leaning forward and staring into his eyes like she could actually read the truth from them. “I can trust you, right Chuck?” Jinx asked. Theiram was doing his best to lean away and avoid eye contact.

“… yeah?” he said weakly. Jinx stared at him for another moment. Then she straightened, beaming. 

“Good enough for me!” she chirped, and Eve let out a breath of relief. Silco just shook his head, waving his hand in dismissal. 

Sevika disappeared, probably back to gambling or bullying the rest of the city in continued submission, and Theiram knelt down at Eve’s side. He picked her up surprisingly smoothly, one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and then they were off. Jinx led the way, humming to herself and walking with a heavy limp, and Theiram followed. Through the more crowded area, Eve wasn’t surprised to see people stepping out of Jinx’s path, clearing the space in front of her. What did surprise her was the way they moved for Theiram as well, though people were smiling at him rather than afraid.

“So…” Eve said, trying to make small talk. “What do you do?”

“I’m the bartender at the Last Drop these days,” he replied genially, and Eve snorted. He looked down at her, confused.

“Is that your bartender voice?” she asked. He raised an eyebrow in question, so she elaborated. “You know, your customer service voice. The voice you do when you’re supposed to be making friendly small talk even if you’re tired and frustrated.”

A small, amused smirk played at the corners of his lips. “Of course not,” he said in the same friendly tone. Eve started to laugh before remembering why that was a bad idea, pain spiking through her midsection.

“Ugh,” she groaned.

“We have medicinal Shimmer variants for stuff like that if you need it,” Theiram offered. Eve glared at him. 

“Fuck no. I’m never putting that shit in my body.”

Theiram shrugged. “Suit yourself. Not all Shimmer gives you a high though, and not all of it is addictive. I’ve seen Shimmer save people’s lives.”

“And I’ve seen it ruin them,” Eve replied evenly. She wasn’t budging on this. 

The rest of the walk was in silence, other than Jinx’s humming or occasional comment to herself. They descended into the fissures, and Jinx put a blindfold on Eve as they navigated their way to her hideout. “Nothing personal kid, but you’re kind of a prisoner right now. Secret base, and all.”

“Could you stop calling me a kid?” Eve had snapped, but it was a halfhearted protest.

After only a little longer, Eve heard Theiram suck in a breath and Jinx announced, “We’re here!”

Eve blinked rapidly as her blindfold was ripped off, and as the room came into focus, she gasped. A wide chasm yawned before her, the blades of a giant propeller spanning its width. A platform with guardrails circled the centerpiece of the propeller, filled with half-finished gadgets, a music player, and different places to sit. It reminded her of Ekko’s workshop, if every bit of life and joy had been sucked out of it. Colorful baubles hung from precarious places, some of them dangling from bits of wire directly over the pit. Eve’s heart raced just imagining Jinx climbing up there to hang it. 

The entire structure was covered in doodles and graffiti, but somehow that only helped the whole space feel even more miserable. There were a couple dolls at the end of one propeller blade that looked strangely familiar, and a small bed on another blade.

“You actually live here?” Eve asked, gulping. 

“Yup!” Jinx replied, spreading out her hands and doing a little spin. “Home, sweet home!” 

This… was an insight into Jinx’s life and psyche that Eve really didn’t need. What had happened to this girl? For the first time, she was more than just an unstoppable force of chaos in her mind. What had she lived through, for this to be the end result? It again reminded her of Ekko. Jinx had every bit of his strength, even if she was lacking his kindness. She was like… if Ekko only ever learned to cope, and never to heal.

Eve looked around, slowly coming to the realization that she would be living here until… whatever the plan was that they were talking about happened. She really should have paid better attention. Regardless, this gloomy cave did not seem like a fun place to hang out. Maybe she could convince Jinx to redecorate?

“Uh, do you have another bed?” Eve ventured to ask. Jinx stopped what she was doing and turned her way, putting her finger to her lips in realization.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Never really needed one. Chuck, watch her while I—”

“My name is Theiram,” he reminded her, cutting into her sentence hesitantly. “And your leg is still injured. I—I’ll get her a bed. And anything else she needs, I guess.”

“Oh, right!” Jinx said, snapping her fingers like she’d forgotten. “She forgot to pack a toothbrush, pajamas—”

“You kidnapped me, you lunatic!” Eve snapped indignantly. “I didn’t have a chance to pack anything!”

Jinx winked at her, and Eve realized she was being messed with. She pouted. Jinx rattled off a few more basic necessities and Theiram nodded patiently, still holding Eve. “And, uh, where should I put her?” he asked. Eve scowled; she hated feeling helpless. She also hated feeling like a burden, but if there was anyone she was okay with burdening it would be Silco’s gang so she tried not to get too hung up about it.

“Over there is fine,” Jinx said, waving her hand toward her own bed. She already had her nose buried in some project of hers and she didn’t even look up as Theiram walked past her and deposited Eve on the bed. On his way back, though, Jinx spun around unexpectedly and slapped him on the back, scaring him half to death. Eve smirked as he cringed away from the blue-haired menace. “You’re doing great, Chuck!” she assured him, before returning to her work and ignoring his presence altogether.

He hesitated, glancing back at her like she was going to push him over the edge of the fan if he looked away too long as he made his way out of her hideout. Eve sighed, letting her head fall back against Jinx’s remarkably uncomfortable pillow. She could already feel the years it would take off her life to share a living space with this walking, talking anxiety generator. She hoped the other Firelights were having a better time with this development than she was.

[]

Ekko was losing his damn mind. He felt like he’d been doing a lot of that lately, but who could blame him? That was generally the sensible thing to do when it came to Jinx. Other than Scar, the other Firelights seemed convinced that Eve was gone for good. A couple of them had already started on her portrait for the mural. The worst part was, he couldn’t in good conscience promise them she was okay. He was sure she was alive, but what was he supposed to say to his people? ‘Don’t worry guys, Jinx was there. I’m sure she saved Eve from the chembarons.’

The Firelights might hate the chembarons more than they hated Jinx, but no chembaron would ever scare them like she did. They would think he’d gone mad.

One day passed, which he spent losing himself in his workshop. Another he spent training, drilling hoverboard maneuvers into his brain and tearing a sparring dummy to shreds. He spent the third checking on his people, the fourth nurturing the tree, the fifth playing with the children, anything to keep his mind occupied. After a week, his patience finally snapped.

He slammed his fist on the table, making Punk and Crow jump slightly in surprise. “I can’t do this anymore,” he bit out. He stood up, his chair scraping the floor as it was pushed behind him. “I’m going to get her.”

“Woah, woah! Dude, slow down. Where are you going?” Punk said, holding up his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Ekko rolled his eyes.

“To get Eve,” he snapped.

“Yeah, obviously,” Punk said, rolling his eyes right back at him. “But where? The only thing we’ve heard from that raid is that Smeech almost got killed by Silco for disobeying orders. We got nothing on where she could even be.”

“Well we won’t find out by sitting here and waiting, will we?” Ekko said sarcastically. “I’ll find her.”

“You can’t—”

“Ekko, sit down,” Scar growled, cutting through the argument. He was glaring at Ekko, something he rarely did. Crow was sitting still, eyes wide as her head swiveled between the speakers.

“Why?” Ekko demanded. “I can’t just keep doing nothing!”

“You have something to tell us, first,” he said, his voice grim.

Ekko faltered. “What?”

“No negotiations with Silco, and no charging into their base until you come clean.”

What on earth was he talking about? “About what?” he asked defensively. He didn’t hide stuff from his team. Hiding things from each other was half of what got them into this mess in the first place.

“How does Jinx know your name?”

Ekko froze. He deflated, sinking slowly back into his seat. Oh. Punk and Crow were both staring at Scar like he’d gone crazy, then they looked at Ekko and had to double take.

“Wait, what?” Punk exploded, both palms coming down hard enough to rattle the table. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Ekko closed his eyes, tilting his head back and letting out a long breath. “How long have you known that?” he asked softly. Scar’s glare wasn’t letting up.

“Since the raid she got my hoverboard,” he growled, crossing his arms. “Wanted to give you a chance to tell us yourself. Never did.”

Ekko looked at him sideways. “We’re Firelights,” he said. “We let people leave their past behind. I don’t owe you my story any more than you all owe me yours.” 

Punk winced, taking his hands from the table. None of the Firelights were innocent—you just didn’t become one if your past was clean. Ekko never pried, whether you were a former thug, addict, or just a refugee. Scar looked away. He in particular knew that to be true; Ekko had found him in an alley, on the run and covered in blood. He’d never even asked.

“Still,” he said, his voice resigned, “I trust you guys. And I guess it’s relevant enough to be important.” He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began. "On the night Vander died, Silco killed everyone I thought of as my family. But..." He trailed off, cursing at himself in his head as he swallowed hard. "There was one person left. Her name was Powder." 

Scar was nodding, remembering the stories he'd told him about his former best friend. The Chirean’s head tilted to the side; he'd told him Silco had killed her, too. "I've never learned exactly what happened that night," he admitted. "But the next time I saw Powder, she called herself Jinx."

A chair clattered to the ground in the shocked silence, Crow breaking her silence for the first time this meeting as she shot to her feet. "Jinx was your friend?" she almost shrieked, every line in her body exuding outrage in that animalistic way of hers. "Does she know? How much does she know?" she demanded. Her emotions always burned bright and fast; she'd cool down soon. Funny enough, it was Eve that Ekko was most worried about.

Scar was looking at him thoughtfully, his head still tilted to the side. Punk almost looked impressed. Ekko sighed. "She knows who I am," he admitted. "I haven't told her anything about us, though. I tried to save her as soon as I realized she was alive, but she—she chose him. I don't understand, but my friend is dead. Jinx is all that's left, and she won't stop me from doing what I have to." He was blinking back tears, trying as hard to convince himself as his friends that he could stay strong about this.

"You're still lying to us," Scar said, but he didn't say it like an accusation. His voice was even, like he was just stating a fact. Ekko looked at him, confused and a little hurt.

"What do you mean?" he asked helplessly. "Why would I lie about this?"

"Said your friend was dead, but didn't tell us until now." He looked Ekko in the eyes, his gaze too knowing for comfort. "You trusted her to keep your secret. Why?"

Ekko looked away. "I... I don't know. I guess I thought she wanted to bury the past as much as I did, and she’s made it clear we aren’t friends anymore. Besides, it’s not like she ever knew about the Sanctuary. Even if she told Silco everything, all he’d know was my name."

Scar was shaking his head before Ekko even finished talking. "This is a new angle—changes everything. Jinx not killing Firelights, Silco offering to negotiate, it could all be for her."

“Shit, Scar’s right,” Punk agreed, his foot tapping rapid-fire against the floor. “I hate to try to understand Jinx, but she wasn’t Silco’s beloved daughter back then. If she still cares about you at all, she might be pushing Silco to make peace with us now that she knows she won’t be abandoned.”

“Or Silco found out and is using her to get to us,” Crow countered, perching on her fallen chair like a bird instead of picking it up. “Whether it’s to take out the Firelights as a professional interest, or to remove Ekko as the only thing left of Jinx’s old life.”

Ekko blinked. He hadn’t thought of any of that; he should have told them earlier. Still… “All of you are assuming she’s on our side,” he said, shaking his head. “Or at least that she wants to be. There’s no guarantee—”

“I’ve always wondered why she was never hunting us,” Punk admitted, cutting him off. “She was a nightmare whenever she was guarding Shimmer, but it was always Sevika or the Enforcers hunting us down. Jinx never even tried, and you know she would be damn good at it.”

Crow didn’t like it, but she looked like she agreed. “If she wanted to take us out, there are easier ways for her than playing this long con,” she said reluctantly.

Silence fell, Ekko’s mind reeling as the others contemplated this new development. He felt like he was about to have a panic attack; like everyone was telling him he was wrong, that he was allowed to hope, but he was so scared to. If he let himself hope, that opened up the possibility of losing Powder all over again.

“This is good news for Eve,” Scar said finally, drumming his fingers against his folded arms. “Maybe Jinx did manage to save her.”

“Gonna be real awkward when she sees her face already on the mural,” Punk chuckled.

The three Firelights turned toward Ekko, and he felt his heart in his throat. He swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut to hold back a sob. When he opened them, his friends were still looking at him. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Scar asked him.

Ekko centered himself, a new fire burning in his chest. Or, not new exactly. It was the same fire that had gone out years ago, the last time he’d thought he could save Powder. Here was another chance, and he could get to Eve at the same time. His train of thought was interrupted, though, by a rising commotion outside in the clearing. He exchanged glances with the others before walking to the door and pushing it open. 

His first reaction was panic at the sight of a machine that was clearly built by Jinx: a steel-gray hoverboard covered in pink and purple paint and a shark head at one end, with blue x’s where the eyes should be and meticulously crafted metal teeth. It glowed pink instead of green, and it rumbled instead of humming underneath your feet. As it descended, though, he was met with the grinning face of Eve, her pink hair sticking wildly in all directions. 

“So, what’d I miss?” she asked.

Chapter Text

One week earlier

Theiram, Eve decided, was an angel. He’d returned a few times over the next several hours with all of the things Jinx had requested, on top of a string of bright, warm lights and a cream-colored privacy curtain. He’d set it all up for her as well, since she couldn’t move and… well, after seeing Jinx’s interior decorating, Eve wanted her far from the process. After maybe an hour of setup, Eve had a refuge from the chaos and anxiety of the rest of Jinx’s hideout. Inside her little corner, she had a comfy bed with cozy lighting, and she couldn’t even see the sheer dropoff on either side of the fan blade. 

Not that heights scared her—anymore, at least. That was something you kind of had to acclimate yourself to if you wanted to ride a hoverboard. Still, it made her feel better to pretend the possibility of falling wasn’t there.

“Knock, knock!” Jinx called from the entrance, then peeked in a second later through the flap. She strolled in, glancing around the space with an unreadable look. “Nice place,” she snarked. “A little bland, though.”

Eve rolled her eyes. Jinx was irritating in a way that was endearing, reckless in a way that was as concerning as it was thrilling. She was impossible to ignore in a way that was familiar, in a way that Eve had missed. It reminded her of…

The air turned cold and sharp on Eve’s skin.

Jinx had this distracting quality about her that was unexpected, engaging, and fun, and yet Eve couldn’t just forget the things that she’d done. Having an entertaining personality wasn’t enough to make up for the friends and family Jinx had killed. Suddenly, the cozy corner in Jinx’s hideout didn’t feel so inviting anymore.

Jinx frowned, like she could sense Eve’s mood taking a sudden nosedive. Which would be weird, especially considering Eve’s chronic RBF. Most of her life, her closest friends had been unable to tell when she was actually angry or sad until she burst into tears. 

“What, did the bland comment strike a nerve?” Jinx asked sarcastically, and yeah, she could definitely tell. It made Eve uncomfortable; she’d gotten used to being able to keep her emotions to herself. It was unfair that Jinx of all people could read her like this, and Eve’s thoughts and feelings circled around each other, spiraling downwards.

Eve scoffed, rolling over with some difficulty to face the stone wall. “I actually kind of like the bland,” she said bitterly. “It’s better than the company, at least.”

“Oh, come on,” Jinx groaned. “I saved your life! That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

“I am stuck with the person who killed my brother!” Eve snapped. And Jinx had reminded her of him. Had started to—to fill that void, for a twisted moment. Her, the person who killed him. How fucked up was that?

There was a short pause, which, fair. That had sort of come out of nowhere. “Ah,” Jinx said, her voice losing some energy. Eve couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t particularly want to right now so she continued staring at the wall. Jinx giggled, like it was a funny joke, and suddenly the low simmering resentment flared into the urge to just scream. “I sure know how that feels,” Jinx snickered, but her voice sounded… wrong. 

Eve finally turned around, half to glare and half needing to understand what the hell that meant, but all she saw was the flap of her curtain as Jinx slipped out. She settled back into her bed, feeling sour and conflicted. The image of Jinx, her brother’s murderer, was clashing with the person in front of her. There was a dissonance that Eve couldn’t reconcile, like she couldn’t make herself believe they were the same person. Was she supposed to just pretend one of them didn’t exist?

Who was Jinx, exactly? What did Eve not know that somehow bridged the gap between these two sides of her? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. The more she understood about Jinx, the harder it was becoming to hate her. The only way she could imagine fighting against her in the future was to lie to herself. Still, she couldn’t stand not knowing.

Eve made up her mind. She would understand Jinx, she would even understand Silco before her time here was up. She was a Firelight, and that’s what they did. They found broken pieces of Zaun, spiteful wrecks like Eve, and they gave those broken people hope, healing, and a home. Imagining someone like Jinx by their side, working for their cause, gave Eve more hope than she’d felt in a long time, despite the way a part of her heart only wanted justice.

Unfortunately, for now she was still unable to move. Maybe she should have waited to make up her mind, languished in indecision for a while, because knowing what you wanted to do and being unable to do it really sucked.

She took a moment to work up her courage. “Jinx?” she called out hesitantly. She could still hear her moving around her hideout, so she knew the other girl was out there. There was no reply for a few seconds. Eve couldn’t decide if she should give it up for now, or try again.

“That’s me,” Jinx finally responded, her voice dull.

Eve chewed on her bottom lip. She couldn’t tell how Jinx felt about her or why, so she wasn’t at all sure what would be overreaching. “Could you… come back?” she asked awkwardly. She didn’t want to keep talking through the privacy curtain.

There was a pause. She could hear Jinx’s footsteps approach the canvas wall where she stopped, her silhouette outlined faintly near the entrance. There was another pause, Jinx shuffling her feet like she was reconsidering. 

“Why?” she asked eventually. “If you want someone to whine to, I’m not the girl.”

Eve sighed. “I just… I wanna talk. Why did you save me?”

After a moment, Jinx moved the curtain flap and ducked in. Her face was strangely blank, and her eyes were wary. Whatever else Jinx was feeling, Eve couldn’t read it. Jinx settled herself cross-legged on the floor, regarding Eve thoughtfully before responding.

“Silco… told me I shouldn’t kill you guys anymore,” she said, her eyes trained on Eve, watching for her reaction. 

Eve and the other Firelights had guessed that much, that Jinx had a no-kill order so they would meet with him. “That doesn’t answer the question,” Eve pushed. “You were going to kill those other guys, who were on your side. Why go so far to help me? You betrayed an entire ship of chem thugs, one of the chembarons, you carried me with a hurt leg on your hoverboard, you gave me stitches—even though for your own leg you just stapled it—and now you’re letting me stay in your hideout. Not even Theiram knew where this place was until now, and you’re just letting me live here? It doesn’t make sense,” she insisted.

Jinx looked away, rolling her eyes. “I do things that don’t make sense,” she said, rolling her hands forward in front of her. “Got a couple of screws rolling around up here, if you haven’t noticed.”

Eve shook her head, biting back a scoff. “We both know that’s bullshit, Jinx. I know you’re not crazy, I just don’t understand you. Why did you save me?” she asked again.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Jinx laughed. “Shows how much you know.” Eve gave her the best done-with-your-shit look she had, and Jinx blew a raspberry. “Fine,” she groaned. “I just…” She fell silent, wrapping her arms around herself. Where before Eve couldn’t read her at all, she now looked distinctly vulnerable.

Eve waited silently, anxiously, hoping she didn’t just push the wrong button on a bomb waiting to explode.

“I just want Ekko to not hate me anymore,” she said, so soft her voice was barely audible. She wasn’t looking at Eve, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her. Her entire body was tense, like she was ready to bolt, and she pulled her knees to her chest.

Eve was confused. Why would she care what Ekko thought of her? They were basically sworn enemies, on opposite sides of a war. Then her blood ran cold. “You—how did you—” she stammered, her thoughts racing incoherently. Her voice turned hoarse. “How do you know his name?”

Jinx’s eyes flicked up to hers, and whatever she saw there made her shut down. “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” she said lightheartedly, the tension and vulnerability bleeding from her body impossibly quickly. There was an uncaring, almost cruel mask up immediately, stretching across her face in a wry smirk. Her body uncurled to lounge on the floor, like she hadn’t been in an anxious ball a second ago. “The past is the past, and we’re enemies now. Have been for years.”

Eve shook her head sharply. “No, don’t just brush me off,” she said, aggravated, but she could see that was the wrong thing to say and the wrong way to say it. Jinx cocked her head to the side, emotional walls now even more firmly in place as she shut Eve out. “How do you know who he is?” Eve begged, her voice changing to pleading. But it was too late, she’d already pushed Jinx too far away to get any sincerity out of her.

“Would you believe me if I told you he was an old flame?” Jinx said sarcastically. “Long lost brother, maybe? Adopted, of course.”

Eve cursed herself. She got the feeling Jinx didn’t let herself be vulnerable very often, and she’d fumbled the moment badly. She didn’t know what she could do to convince Jinx to give her another chance like that. “Whatever,” Eve muttered, disappointed in herself. She thought of other things she could ask that might feel less threatening, less personal. 

“Can I ask you something else?” she asked. Jinx just shrugged. “Why was Silco so hung up on me calling the undercity Zaun?”

Jinx looked at her sideways, seeming a little confused. “You really don’t know?” she said. “I thought you were messing with him.”

“What am I supposed to know?” Eve asked exasperatedly.

“Zaun is Silco’s dream,” Jinx said. “He chose that name for the reformation movement, back when it was all non-violent protests and shit. The whole concept was his idea, but no one supported him.” She tilted her head to the side. “Wait, if you didn’t know that, where did you even hear about it?”

Eve flopped to her back, letting out a hard breath. That was impossible, wasn’t it? Everyone knew Vander was the one that led the revolution all those years ago, but he certainly didn’t call this place Zaun. Even though everyone knew Silco’s name these days, he’d seemed to come out of nowhere. Why did no one know of him before, if he was one of the leaders of that doomed rebellion?

“I don’t know,” Eve said softly, staring pensively into the darkness above. “I think… I think it was Ekko.”

“Huh,” Jinx said, surprise written across her face. “Now, he’s the last person I’d expect to support anything with Silco’s name on it.”

Eve hummed in agreement, mulling her thoughts over in her head. She wanted to probe a little bit, press Jinx on how she knew Ekko again, but she was obviously on her guard. Jinx hopped up to her feet, brushing herself off. “Welp, I’ll leave you to chew on that for a while. I need to work on my gadgetry, you see,” she said, doing the worst impression of Silco that Eve had ever heard and still been able to recognize. Eve snorted, and Jinx shot her a wink before disappearing again.

Moments later, distorted pop-rock music started blaring through the hideout, echoing off the rock walls. Eve could hear Jinx singing along, and despite herself, her lips quirked into a small smile. She had a feeling that Jinx would have gotten along with her little brother, in another world. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a harsh breath.

Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

[]

Jinx didn’t know how to feel about her new roommate. It had been a couple of days, and she was starting to get the feel of not living alone. On one hand, she was entertaining company and made for great conversation most of the time. On the other hand, she kept reminding Jinx why she only ever opened up to Silco. Every once in a while she would say something that would make the Firelight girl react with horror, or pity, or disgust, and it felt like a kick to the ribs. She was getting better at knowing what not to say though, and that made it easier.

Still, she felt like she was walking on eggshells. Silco was the only one who ever felt like solid ground, like she could never say anything to make him forsake her. Right now was one of those moments that Jinx felt like she’d misstepped somehow, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she said. She’d mentioned Mylo and Claggor in a story—not even mentioning how she heard their voices or pointing out the dolls—but the Firelight girl had gone silent and was staring at her like she’d just realized something.

“What?” Jinx demanded, throwing her hands up in defeat. “What did I say this time?”

The girl chewed on her lip, hesitant. Jinx flopped backwards with a heavy sigh. Nothing was ever enough for these people, honestly.

“Are you—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. 

“Am I…?” Jinx prompted.

The girl stared at her for several more moments, long enough that Jinx was on the edge of snapping at her. She looked over at the two dolls, and when she finally spoke, Jinx still wasn’t ready. “You’re Powder, aren’t you?”

The voices in her head sounded like a record scratch; Jinx was rooted in place. How the hell. She wanted to say something—to demand answers, or feign confusion, or maybe crack an inappropriate joke—but she had lost her voice. 

The Firelight girl swallowed, not sure how to interpret her sudden silence. “It’s just—ever since you mentioned Ekko my mind has been racing, and I always thought those dolls looked familiar. And then I remembered Ekko’s stories…”

That answered some questions, and spawned more to replace them. Jinx cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was rough and quiet. “How do you know what Mylo and Claggor look like?” she asked first, starting with the less important questions. The important ones scared her.

“Um. Ekko painted a… a memorial, I guess, of the people that he lost,” the other girl said, her voice shaking faintly. “Benzo, Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Vi…”

Her voice trailed off, but Jinx could feel in her bones where she was headed. “And Powder,” she finished numbly. How did this make her feel? She didn’t know yet, only that she was on the verge of a panic attack.

The girl nodded. “All the Firelights added their own friends and family they’ve lost, and we sit down every once in a while to just… talk. Tell their stories.” She paused, and when she continued Jinx could tell she was uncertain. Afraid, even, that her next sentence would make Jinx metaphorically or literally blow up. “He always had the most stories about Powder,” she said.

Jinx stared blankly ahead, her hands flexing and then clenching subconsciously. There was so much noise in her brain that she couldn’t hear her own internal monologue, and her lips mouthed the words she was thinking silently in an attempt to focus. She felt oddly detached from her own panic, like an outsider watching a building crumble across the street.

The pink-haired Firelight waved her hand in front of Jinx’s eyes, catching her attention with a jolt, and her face was concerned. Jinx watched her hesitate, brace herself, and then say something. It seemed important, but Jinx couldn’t hear anything right now. Jinx licked her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her attention outward as best she could. “What did you say?” she managed, her voice cracking.

The girl chewed her lip, intimidated at having to say again whatever she had worked up the courage to say earlier. “I said…” She took a deep breath. “My name is Eve. I—I just wanted… I thought it was only fair.”

Jinx blinked, surprised. A small bit of warmth touched her chest, and the voices quieted with equal shock. Why did the Firelight… no, why did Eve decide to trust her with that? It felt like a misunderstanding.

“My name isn’t Powder,” Jinx said, shaking her head. “Powder… fell down a well. I’m Jinx now.”

Eve shrugged. “Still,” she said, her concern unabated, “it felt… fair.”

Jinx didn’t quite understand, but she also did, somehow. She felt a sort of connection with Eve she hadn’t felt in years, something she craved. It almost felt hopeful, until she remembered who she was. Fear washed out whatever else she might have been feeling.

“No,” Jinx said, her breath coming faster and faster. “No, no, no. You don’t understand yet, I’m a Jinx. You can’t—I can’t—” Half a sob escaped her. “You’ll die,” she begged. “I’ll kill you!”

She saw how Eve almost took a step back, her eyes widening at the sudden flip. She saw how Eve stopped herself, despite the obvious fear and overwhelment on her face, and took a step forward instead. Eve, still leaning heavily on her crutch just to stand, put her hand over Jinx’s and tried to comfort her. Why did she do that? Didn’t she hate her?

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” Eve said softly, the shaky hesitation absent from her voice now. “But I want to, Jinx. Tell me, and I’ll listen.”

The half sob fully emerged from Jinx’s chest now, her eyes blurred with tears, her mind blurred with confusion.

“I’ll listen,” she repeated. “I promise.”

[]

It had taken some time for Jinx to tell Eve what had happened. Jinx’s story was broken and horribly biased against herself, but Eve could put the pieces together to figure out the truth. It horrified her.

Ekko had told some of his closest friends within the Firelights, Scar and Eve included, about the worst night of his life. He’d told her what he’d seen, how his actions had contributed, and how it had ended. But even he never knew the specifics of what had happened, and now that Eve did know, she wasn’t sure if she should tell him. Jinx had been, what, eleven at the time? Twelve? Eve was surprised she was doing as well mentally as she was—which was saying a lot.  

Jinx spent the next several days avoiding her, which was impressive considering she lived in her room. Eve spent those days healing, and by the time she’d been stuck there for a week, she could stand on her own. She suspected Jinx had used Shimmer-infused antiseptic. Jinx had then sprung on her with no warning the fact that she could just up and leave, and sent her packing back to the Firelights without so much as an explanation or a message to deliver. Jinx had even given her the hoverboard she’d built.

Now Eve was sitting with Ekko, Scar, Crow, and Punk in the war room, wincing every time she moved. She’d been cleared to stand, not to ride a super-charged hoverboard at breakneck speeds, and certainly not to get squeezed to death by all the excited hugs.

“Are you really okay?” Ekko asked her, concern lacing his tone. “You look… well, better than I’d expect after staying with Jinx for a week, but still.”

“I’m exhausted,” Eve snipped at him. There was no reason to be mad at him—he wasn’t even nagging, and he’d checked on her well-being a very reasonable amount—but, like she said, she was exhausted. “I’m still healing from a damn stab wound, and I had to ride that beast of a hoverboard all the way across Zaun!”

“Stab wound?” Punk interjected, half rising from his seat. “What the fuck? Ekko said you got punched!”

Eve grimaced. “Yeah. Dude had a blade implant in his fist; not fun.”

Crow patted her shoulder sympathetically in a rare show of physical affection. She’d been silent since Eve had returned, but hadn’t strayed more than five feet from her side. Ekko was suddenly by her side again as well, inspecting her bandages. 

“How did you make it all the way here with that?” Ekko asked, his voice somehow conveying his worry while staying collected and confident. “Have you gotten it treated?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Eve said, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t sure how they would react to how she was fine, but she wasn’t going to get away with not explaining. She sighed. “Uh… Jinx stitched me up,” she said, and when every pair of eyes in the room fixed on her in disbelief, she ignored them and pushed on. “And I’m pretty sure there was Shimmer in their antibiotic ointment. It healed, like… weirdly fast.”

Ekko pursed his lips at that last part, but ultimately ignored it for now. “Can I take a look?” he asked, gesturing to the bandages. She groaned, slumping back into her chair. 

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Don’t trust her needlework or something?”

Ekko started unwrapping the bandage. “She’s very good at making things that explode,” he said. “Not so much things that are supposed to stay together.”

“You’d be surprised,” Eve countered. “I mean, I knew she was smart. But after seeing her little secret workshop? She’s like, wicked smart, Ekko.”

He just nodded, and she could swear he smiled just a bit. The stitches were uncovered, and Scar leaned in. He was the best medic they had second only to his wife, and he grunted in acceptance. “Pretty good,” he said, sounding vaguely surprised. “She did this while injured?”

Eve nodded. “Yeah, she’s crazy,” she said.

Punk blinked at her. “Yeah, we know. That’s… her thing.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Well maybe you should’ve—”

“Eve,” Ekko interrupted, not looking at her as he intently rewrapped her bandages. “What happened?”

Eve let out a slow breath, preparing herself mentally to recount the last week. “Well,” she said. “I got stabbed. Then the ugly little yordle guy, can never remember his name—”

“Smeech?” Punk supplied. She snapped her fingers.

“Yeah, him. Uh, he was asking me questions about the Firelights and getting ready to… cut me up or something? I don’t know what his arm things do. Jinx hit everybody with a plaster bomb and saved me, and then she flew off with me on her hoverboard.”

“That thing can carry multiple people long distance?” Ekko said, raising an eyebrow. His could carry two, but only for a couple minutes at most. 

“Stop interrupting,” Eve snapped. “She took me to a safehouse or something, stitched me up and stapled her leg, and then flew us over to the Last Drop. Silco and Sevika were both there and they decided I was Jinx’s responsibility, so I stayed at her weird workshop/bedroom combo. Jinx took care of me for a week and then let me go, and now I’m here.”

There was a short silence. “Wow,” Punk said, sitting back in his chair. “That’s… a story to tell, for sure.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Eve added belatedly. “The bartender at the Last Drop, Theiram, was very nice and helpful.”

“And that’s relevant because…”

“I just thought he deserved to be mentioned. Oh! And you,” she said, straightening and pointing at Ekko. “You have some explaining to do.”

Ekko winced. “Yeah…”

“We talked about his history with Jinx,” Crow said quietly. “Not a long story. He doesn’t really know what happened and they haven’t properly talked since Silco.”

Eve stared at him for a short moment. “You need Jinx’s side of the story,” she finally stated. “We have a lot to talk about. There’s a lot that I learned. But right now I’m about to pass out.”

She stood up to head to her room, and she had time to hope Ekko would catch her before she followed through on her statement. Her vision went black.

Chapter Text

“You forgot,” Silco repeated. Jinx nodded, making the type of face you make after an annoying but unimportant mistake.

“Yep,” she said with a sigh, slumping a little. “Sorry.”

“You just… let the Firelight go, and forgot to give her your message for their leader.” Another nod, now with a slight eye roll. Silco always tried not to emote his negative emotions to Jinx, so he just nodded thoughtfully instead of throwing his hands up in frustration. “How will he know how to contact you?” he eventually asked. “The plan was to deliver her to them, so they would have to meet with us. Without any pressure, it may take months for that to happen.”

Jinx’s eyes widened in dismay, her hands stilling where they’d been fiddling with his eye injector. “What? Months?”

“Perhaps years,” Silco mused. “We’ve been at odds for years, after all. Finding common ground may take just as long.” His daughter was getting better at thinking through her decisions, especially since all this Firelight business had begun, but she was still an untamed force of chaos. She wouldn’t be Jinx without the occasional unpredictable, impulsive decision.

Jinx slumped further, a frustrated pout on her face, until she brightened. “Maybe they’ll think it was on purpose?” she suggested. Silco gave her a questioning look, so she elaborated. “I mean, maybe they’ll think we didn’t have any conditions, or messages or whatever, as a sign of goodwill. He’s so goody-goody, it might mean even more to him.”

Silco doubted it. Still, Jinx looked so hopeful that he decided to agree. “Maybe,” he said consideringly. “You know them better than I do, after all.”

“Yeah,” Jinx said, like she was confirming the idea to herself. “It’ll be fine. Gotta keep ‘em on their toes, keep ‘em guessing.”

She leaned forward, holding the injector. Not the most encouraging words she’d ever said before jamming a needle into his eye, but he still trusted her. She performed perfectly, as she always did, and Silco hissed as his entire body reacted to the Shimmer. It was getting worse, recently.

“Come to me if you have any other ideas,” he told her as she skipped out of the room. Judging by the look in her eyes she was off to bother someone, and out of everyone she knew it was almost certainly Theiram. The boy had grown close enough to Jinx that he merited keeping a close eye on, even though Silco didn’t think the kid even realized it. He was just as terrified of the blue-haired menace as he was before. He’d also performed admirably over the last week, taking on extra responsibilities without letting anything slip—Silco had given him a generous bonus. Hopefully that would make up for getting relentlessly harassed by Jinx, probably for years to come, even if Jinx’s pranks on him were especially harmless and playful.

Sevika strolled in moments after Jinx had left, a grim look on her face that made Silco’s good mood vanish like good air in the mines. “What is it?” he asked her.

“It’s the chembarons,” she answered, huffing out a derisive scoff. “Finn’s on his high horse again, trying to suck up to you.”

Silco rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “And what was his genius idea this time?” he asked, fishing out a cigar. Sevika gave him a light before lighting up herself, and they both took a long drag before continuing the conversation.

“He thinks he can take care of the Firelights for you. Thinks if he does it he’ll finally join your inner circle,” she said, smoke puffing from her mouth with every word. “You know the kid idolizes you. Leave him out to dry too long, and that won’t last.”

Silco just shook his head, letting the acrid smoke ease away the headache. Finn was perhaps more useful than the other chembarons, more competent and possessing more of a spine, but he didn’t care for Zaun. Like the others, he thought of power and the undercity as an enterprise, envying Piltover and their prosperity. Silco did not envy Piltover; the prosperity and life that he wanted for Zaun wouldn’t be built on commerce, money, and corruption. It would be built on industry, ingenuity, and most importantly, community. A man like Finn had no place leading Zaun into a new era.

A man like that elusive Firelight leader, though… With him, Silco could start taking steps impossible to him with only the chembarons. He needed the Firelights, he was realizing. Not because Zaun would be unreachable without them, but because destroying them would push him one step closer to being exactly like Piltover. He couldn’t stomach the thought.

He hoped Jinx was right, and her mistake wasn’t a major setback. Perhaps the Firelights would see the lack of a message as a message of its own? He blew a smoke ring into the sky, watching it circle around itself as it rose.

“Call an assembly,” he finally said to Sevika. “I’ll need to give them something to distract them.”

[]

“She forgot.” Ekko raised an eyebrow, and Eve elaborated. “There was probably something she wanted me to tell you, but she… didn’t. She didn’t tell me.”

“She just didn’t?” Ekko repeated, blinking. Eve nodded with a shrug and a little smile. Ekko stared at her for a moment, and then suddenly he was suppressing a smile. “Only Jinx,” he said, rolling his eyes and pretending the warm feeling in his chest was irritation. Eve gave him a look like she could see right through him.

“I mean, the message has been the same every time so far,” Eve said with a shrug. “Silco still wants to meet with you. And, I don’t know if this was on purpose either, but I know where her hideout is now. We can reach her directly if we need to.”

Ekko tried to hide how interested he was in that particular bit of information. He probably failed. “Right; well, message received I guess,” he said. He smirked. “Thank you Eve, for delivering Jinx’s message the one time she didn’t actually give you one.” Eve stuck her tongue out at him.

“Only reason I did it, honestly. Guess I just don’t like doing what I’m told.”

“I’ve noticed, believe it or not.”

“Hey while we’re on the topic,” she prodded, leaning forward, “who is Jinx? To you, I mean. Or I guess who was she to you?”

Ekko shot her a glare and stood up. “That’s not important,” he said, just like he’d said every other time she’d brought it up. “I’m not prying into your life, okay? How about you do me the same favor?”

Eve wasn’t about to let it rest—not this time. She rose to her feet at the same time, meeting his glare with one of her own. “This isn’t about the Firelights, Ekko,” she said, her voice hard. “This is about—” she cut off, then glanced both ways to make sure they were alone. She lowered her voice. “This is about two of my friends who think they hate each other,” she hissed at him. His eyes widened. 

“What—I—” He shook his head as if to clear it. “What?”

“Listen,” she said harshly. “You don’t know what happened that night, when everything fell apart; I do. And no, I’m not telling you. Do you know why I know?”

She waited as his face cycled through shock, betrayal, anger. “It’s because I asked her, dipshit. And then I listened.” He looked away, all of the other emotions draining into shame. “You owe it to her to do the same.”

“I don’t owe Jinx shit,” he shot back, but there was no fire behind his words. Eve held his gaze for a few seconds, unrelenting. “Fuck,” he spat quietly, clenching his hands into fists. He felt something snap inside him. He met Eve’s eyes again. “You want me to be honest?” he asked, standing abruptly and pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “Fine. I’ll be honest. The only reason I’ve been able to fight against Jinx for all these years is because I’ve been lying to myself, okay? I’ve been pretending Powder is dead, that I’ve given up on her, that she’s too far gone. If you want me to stop all that and come clean then fine. But just know, after the truth comes out, I can’t go back.”

He leaned forward, and Eve leaned back, eyes wide. He jabbed his finger into her chest. “I’ll go there if I have to,” he said. “But if this deal falls apart and we end up on opposite sides again, I’m done. You guys will have to fight her alone.”

[]

Ekko felt sick as he walked into the Last Drop for the first time in years. Everything was wrong. The neon purple sign, the pulsing club music, the flashing lights, the Shimmer. It was all a corruption of the warm community Vander had built here, where anyone could come and feel like they had a family. There were burly men posted outside the doors, but Ekko wasn’t sure what they were there for. Ekko was fifteen years old, obviously underage, and certainly not on any kind of guest list. Maybe they were just typical bouncers?

Whatever the case, they let him in without issue. A few people gave him odd looks as he wove through the dancers to the bar, but Ekko knew how to walk like he belonged. No one looked too long. A young guy with short brown hair, shaved on the sides, glanced up at him at the bar. He had a content sort of look on his face, but he scanned the crowd regularly, sending out muscled assistants every once in a while to break up anything that might escalate into a fight. Ekko took a seat, and the bartender walked over.

“What can I get for ya?” he asked, voice friendly but pitched to be heard over the music and people.

Ekko shrugged. “You’re Theiram?” he checked.

Theiram’s body language didn’t change but his eyes sharpened, looking Ekko up and down. He nodded, still smiling. “That’d be me.”

“Eve says hi. Told me to say thanks,” Ekko said casually. Theiram grabbed a glass and started cleaning it, giving Ekko a curious look. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he said. “You can tell her I said you’re welcome, I guess.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. Did Jinx not tell anyone Eve’s name? That was a surprise. “Pink hair, bad attitude, not very tall?” he pushed. Now Theiram tensed up. He looked at Ekko, then down at the cup he was cleaning. He sighed and put it down.

“And I’m assuming that’s not why you’re here?” he said tiredly. Ekko gave him a smirk.

“I need to talk to Silco.”

Theiram heaved a gargantuan sigh. He glanced out to the crowd again, and seeing nothing that needed his immediate attention, nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be right back,” he grunted. He disappeared up the stairs. 

Ekko turned around, facing the dance floor and the tables throughout the club. His fists tightened. Silco had turned the Last Drop into a nightclub. The music was fast, rhythmic, and reckless, the baseline pulsing through Ekko’s chest, and the revelers mimicked that attitude. Sans the Shimmer, Ekko could admit that a club like this had a place in Zaun. It could be good for people to just dance the night away, let themselves be swept into the rhythm and the high energy. But for it to take the place of Vander’s bar, the beloved Last Drop… it felt perverse. 

He turned back around, sick of the sight. If he hadn’t, he might’ve seen a girl with long blue braids down to her calves walk through the door, the crowd parting before her. He might have seen her eyes lock onto his white dreads at the bar, and seen her freeze for a moment before vanishing up the same stairs where Theiram had gone. He saw none of this, focusing on keeping his breathing even, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Theiram returned a few minutes later. 

“Follow me,” the bartender instructed, leading Ekko up the stairs and out of the relentlessly pounding music. He was taken to an ornate wooden door where Sevika stood, her eyebrows furrowing when she saw him.

“We made it clear we would only be meeting with the leader of your little gang,” Sevika said dismissively. “If he won’t come, forget it and get lost.”

“My name is Ekko, nice to meet you too,” Ekko said sarcastically. Sevika raised an eyebrow.

“That name supposed to mean something to me?” she asked. Ekko cocked his head to the side. 

“I am the leader of the Firelights,” he said. “What, did Jinx not tell you?” 

Sevika looked at him skeptically, but eventually shook her head. “If you’re lying, Silco will see right through you,” she said. “You’ll ruin any chance of getting what you want.”

“Good thing I’m not lying,” Ekko said evenly, not giving away his sudden turmoil. Had Powder—had Jinx really not told them about him? She apparently hadn’t told them anything about the Firelights, and that was making him feel oddly warm. He mentally shook himself—he’d have to keep his mind sharp here.

Sevika grunted at him, giving him a side-eye before pushing open the door. Waiting on the other side was Silco, sitting behind a large desk. Ekko pushed down the sudden wrath, waited a second until he didn’t see red, and walked through the door. It was now or never.

The door closed behind him with a strange kind of finality, the noise of the club receding to a barely-perceivable hum. Silco regarded him for a moment, that strange eye of his forever unblinking.

“So, you came after all,” Silco said eventually, his voice low and smooth. “You seemed so intent on ignoring me, I wondered if Jinx’s patience would last.”

Ekko folded his arms and pointedly didn’t take a seat. “Well, I’m here now,” he said, the aggression in his voice evident even when he tried to dial it back. “You gonna tell me why you’re so persistent, or am I wasting my time?”

Silco gave a low hum of amusement. “Look who’s impatient now,” he said dryly. “To get straight to the point, I want you and your Firelights. You may think of yourselves as allies, subordinates, or whatever you wish; I want you by my side.”

Ekko scoffed. “The entire reason we exist is to fight against your drug empire. What makes you think we would ever want to be a part of it?”

“I’m not building a drug empire, boy,” Silco responded smoothly, his tone scathing. “Shimmer is but a means to an end.”

“Yeah, and I can guess what end,” Ekko shot back. “What, did it not make enough money for you?”

“Do you have any idea how much money it would take to put meaningful pressure against Topside?” Silco countered, matching Ekko’s intensity. “I may seem to be a king to you, but to them I’ve barely reached the radar.”

“That’s what this is about? A Piltie inferiority complex?” Ekko said incredulously.

Silco surprised him with a tiny, satisfied smirk, apparently liking that answer. “Couldn’t be further from the truth,” he corrected. “But money and violence are the only languages Topside understands. If Zaun is ever to gain independence, it will be through one of these two things.”

Ekko drew up short. “Independence?” he said, his voice caught between shock and skepticism. “That’s your goal? A free Zaun?”

“Zaun is everything. It always has been,” Silco said fervently. The look on his face was near reverent, and Ekko couldn’t convince himself the other man was that good of an actor.

Ekko let out a heavy breath. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You’re not building up Zaun, you’re destroying it.” He met Silco’s eyes. “It seems to me like you’re just trying to get back at Topside, and you’re sacrificing Zaun to do it.”

Silco’s eyes went livid. “You know nothing!” he snarled, his hands slamming on the table as he flew to his feet. Ekko didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as the older man’s breathing went ragged in agitation. Silco’s eyes strayed to the knife on his desk, and his hand twitched. Ekko shifted on his feet, ready to move.

Whatever might have happened was interrupted by a blue blur landing on Silco’s desk. “You guys are horrible,” Jinx groaned, snatching Silco’s knife and twirling it around her fingers. Silco paused, took a deep breath, and ran his hands through his hair as he sank back into his seat. Ekko blinked at the transformation. Jinx met his eyes and gave him a small, hesitant smile. 

“Hey there, Little Man. Been awhile.”

Ekko’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes flitted across Jinx’s face, outside of combat, for the first time since… since she’d been Jinx. The lines in her face were harder, and her makeup didn’t quite hide the bags under her eyes, but… her eyes were the same blue that he remembered, deep and sad. Her lips had that same pout, but they were more full, now. Her personality still filled the room, familiar but changed—sharper in a way that was captivating, like her nose and her chin. He blinked, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah…” he said quietly. “It has.”

Her eyes took him in like he’d done to her, flicking down to his clothes, his arms. She blinked, looked away, and climbed off the desk. “Well, get on with it,” she grumbled. “And don’t lose your damn minds this time. I’m not supposed to be the level-headed one.”

Ekko nodded absently, but he couldn’t look away until Silco cleared his throat. When Ekko’s gaze met his again, Silco’s good eye narrowed at him in warning. Ekko hoped his dark skin hid the flush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “Uh, right,” he said. He knew he would get like this, he knew his emotions would catch him off guard, and he hated that it had to happen in front of Silco of all people. 

Jinx melted into the background as Silco began speaking again. “Zaun must be free,” he said. “The sons and daughters of Zaun deserve more than their runoff.”

Ekko blinked, fully focussed again. He’d heard that sentence before, word for word. It was in the same journal where he’d first come across the word Zaun, that Benzo kept in his office. That journal had inspired him—the ideas inside had formed the foundation of the Firelights. Every entry had been signed with the letter S. Ekko felt dizzy.

“You—that journal,” he said, head racing. “That was you.”

Silco, who had looked ready to launch into a profound monologue, paused. He turned toward Ekko a fraction. “What?”

“The red journal,” Ekko said, scrambling to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “The one Benzo kept in his office, signed with an S. That was yours, wasn’t it?”

Silco turned fully to face him, his face unreadable. “Benzo?” he said. “Benzo kept my journal?”

“He read it to me! He said that journal was how he wanted Zaun to be, someday.” Ekko felt like his world was falling apart. “He—he respected you! He respected you, and you killed him!”

Ekko took great satisfaction in seeing Silco, who felt so untouchable, flounder for a couple seconds. “I only killed the Enforcer,” he defended. “I didn’t touch Benzo until he came running at me with a steel pipe.”

“What, that wasn’t your plan?” Ekko said disbelievingly. “You can’t honestly tell me, after everyone died that night, that it was some kind of accident. Some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Of course it wasn’t the plan!” Silco snapped back at him.

“Then what happened?” Ekko demanded. Silco’s eyes flicked back to Jinx, sitting in the corner, and he visibly calmed himself.

“Not everyone died that night,” he said, leaning back in his seat. He pulled a thick cigar from a case in his jacket and lit it up. “Vander and Benzo weren’t supposed to be there.”

Ekko looked at him uncomprehendingly. Silco sighed. “Violet was attempting to turn herself in to the Enforcers, to satisfy the council and keep the peace,” he said. Ekko felt the world tipping, everything standing at the wrong angle. “I was attempting to prevent that,” Silco continued. “I had hoped that Vander, after realizing what Topside would do to his precious children, would once again join me against them.”

“But Vander realized what Vi was doing,” Ekko whispered in realization. “He beat you to her, and tried to turn himself in instead.”

Silco nodded, tipping his cigar in Ekko’s direction in acknowledgement. “Naturally, I had to stop that. Benzo’s death was… unfortunate, but I couldn’t just let him kill me.” Ekko’s jaw clenched, but he held back his vitriol. “Vander again refused to fight; he would rather die for a cause than fight for one,” Silco spat. “I lured his children to save him. I meant to capture them and hand them to Piltover, thus forcing Vander to fight them if he wanted them back. Violet surprised me by being a more competent fighter than nearly all of my people combined. However, I was still confident in my plan.”

“And then what?” Ekko demanded when Silco fell silent. Silco met his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak. Ekko could already tell that whatever he was about to say was a lie. But before he could call him out, Jinx interrupted again.

“And then I happened,” she said. Her voice was quiet but hard, vulnerable but cold. Ekko looked over at her, surprise written across his face. “I jinxed everything,” she said, her eyes fixed to the floor. “I came in with my monkey bomb, so sure I could save everyone.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks,  her teeth bare. “I—I only wanted to help,” she whispered. 

Ekko didn’t understand. None of her bombs worked, back then. How could she…? She glanced up, and read the question in his eyes. She giggled sardonically. “I used the crystals,” she said with a sniff, trying to wipe her tears away with her palms. “The ones that blew up that Piltie apartment that started this whole mess. I jinxed everything back then, too. Th—the explosion was too big.” She hiccuped, trying to suppress a sob. “Killed Mylo and Claggor immediately.” Ekko felt himself stumbling back in horror as Jinx just kept talking. “Buried Vander in rubble, hurt Vi’s arm. I—I took off Sevika’s arm all the way, at least, and I burned up all Silco’s Shimmer. Or, almost all of it.”

She looked at him again, and whatever she saw, her face crumpled. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She was scrambling away from him, against the wall. Like he would hurt her. Something shattered in his chest. “It was an accident, I only wanted to help!”

Ekko wanted to run to her, but he was paralyzed. The other person in the room, however, was not. Silco was on his knees in front of Jinx in seconds, holding her hands and helping her breath. He spoke in soft tones, his face impossibly soft for such an evil man. Jinx’s wide eyes locked onto Silco’s mismatched ones, and Ekko saw the tension and the anguish drain away. He finally understood why she wouldn’t leave him—he didn’t know why Silco would do this for her, but he could imagine the effect it would have on a young Powder for someone to comfort her, to hold her like this after everything had gone so wrong. But where was Vi? Comforting Powder, especially after a catastrophe like that, was practically her entire purpose.

Ekko remembered how Jinx hadn’t said Vi died in the blast, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t think she could handle it, right now, and he didn’t want to push her after she’d been so vulnerable. After Silco had moved, Ekko stepped forward. He didn’t know where they stood yet, if physical contact would just freak her out, so he stayed a step away.

“I’m… sorry,” he said. He gripped one of his arms with his hand across his torso. “I’m sorry I never asked. I’m sorry for never… bothering to understand.”

Jinx stared at him. Her throat bobbed, her face twisting, and without warning, she threw herself at him. Ekko stumbled back, Jinx’s arms around his shoulders, and he tried to blink back his own tears. He felt them rolling down his cheeks anyway, and his arms slowly wound around Jinx’s back. She was trembling. He was pretty sure he was, too.

“I suppose this means you’ll accept my proposal?” Silco questioned. Ekko looked over at him. His faint smile looked distinctly strained. Still, Ekko didn’t break the hug until Jinx did. 

“Yeah,” he said finally, his brow furrowed. “I guess so.”

As he shook Silco’s hand, looking straight into that ruined eye, Ekko couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it felt like to make a deal with the devil. 

Chapter Text

The Firelights were buzzing with anticipation as Ekko gathered them all in front of the tree, and he took a deep breath. He would have to be careful with how he framed this, or his entire community would be out for his blood. Not literally—he was pretty sure, at least—but if they felt like he’d betrayed them… in all honesty, the Firelights were new. Still growing. They were a closer community than Ekko could have hoped after only a year or two of officially existing, but that meant their identity was still being forged. He didn’t want this event to ruin that.

When the Firelights were finally ready, Ekko certainly wasn’t. But when was he? He certainly wasn’t ready to save Shimmer junkies and victims at thirteen years old, yet here he was. He stepped up.

As he looked out over his friends, their families, their children, he felt pride swell in his chest. They would be fine, he decided. Because these were the Firelights, and they weren’t about to give up what they’d built. A smile spread across his face. 

“You guys have probably noticed that things have been a little weird recently,” he started, and there was murmuring as they agreed. “You’re all here today so I can explain what’s happened, and what we’re gonna do about it.” He took another breath as the Firelights watched him expectantly. “First thing we need to talk about is Jinx.”

The reaction to that was varied, the looks on their faces ranging from hate to fear to grudging respect. He had to wait for them to quiet down again before continuing. “Over the last month, she’s created her own version of our crystal bombs, and she’s modified her gun to be non-lethal. She also saved Eve’s life, and gave her a hoverboard of her own design to escape.”

Shouts of disbelief broke out, until Eve stepped up on the small raised platform with him. “It’s true,” she confirmed, raising her voice over the crowd. “I didn’t steal that hoverboard, she gave it to me. Jinx also personally stitched my stab wound and carried me to safety with an injured leg.”

“An injury that we gave her,” Ekko added. The Firelights were subdued, now, trying to process what he said and guess where he was headed. “If all of this is confusing to you, you can only imagine how we felt while it was all happening,” he said. That got a few chuckles, and several rueful smiles. “Most of you can already tell that Silco has some kind of angle, allowing all of this. A couple days ago, I paid him a visit to find out exactly what kind of angle that was.”

The whole clearing seemed to be silent, waiting with baited breath for what he’d learned. He had to frame this as a victory—a truce, not a concession. “The angle was that we won,” he said with a wide grin, holding out his hands triumphantly. “We made Shimmer more trouble than it was worth for Silco, and he wants a truce.”

The silence from before was gone. Questions, laughter, confusion, skepticism, and triumph all melded into a loud roar, and it took Ekko several long moments to get them quiet enough to listen. “This isn’t the end, but it’s a big win,” he said loudly, capturing their attention again. “And it’s not free. But as long as we make Silco think he’s winning, like he’s the one that got us off his back, we can use him to really make a difference for Zaun.”

“What are the terms?” someone asked from the crowd. Others murmured assent, nodding their heads. Ekko tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

“I only agreed to negotiate,” he said. “We make decisions together, and I told him I wouldn’t set terms until I had a chance to speak with all of you. For me, the most important thing is dismantling his Shimmer operations. But we need to come together and make a list of things we need, things we can compromise on, and things we can offer him to sweeten the deal. We’ll haggle like our lives depend on it.”

Predictably, most of the crowd wasn’t fully on board. They were subdued, skeptical, and reluctant, but the more Ekko talked, the more the Firelights seemed to be warming up to the idea. He felt a knot in his chest loosen; they had his back, it seemed, even when his ideas were batshit crazy. He would do anything for this community. 

“I promise, I won’t risk our home or the life we’ve built. I’ll keep my guard up, and I won’t compromise the things dear to us,” he swore. The faces looking up at him, even the cynical and the dubious, believed him. “This deal could go up in smoke if Silco isn’t serious. But if it does go through, it could be the biggest breakthrough we’ve had in this fight.”

His war council, who he’d briefed on his plan already, was helping with the crowd. Punk was in the back, reminiscing on his own past and the things he’d been forgiven of. Speculating excitedly about what kind of Firelight someone like Jinx would make, if they gave her that same chance at forgiveness. Crow was with the children, where she felt most comfortable. Eve—well, Eve was on the stand with him. And Scar, as the discussion got more and more excited, more optimistic, slammed his staff against the floor.

“Firelights!” he roared, and as the meadow came alive with glowing green insects, a cheer swelled.

We can really do this, they were saying. 

And besides, he added to himself with a private grin, whether they believe it or not, we’ve got Jinx on our side now.

[]

The meeting with Silco went vastly awry from Ekko’s expectations. He was expecting arguments, concessions, haggling for what they wanted in the same way you haggled at the market—a type of give and take situation. The key difference, he was realizing, was that in the market, you wanted opposite things. The vendor wanted to sell their goods at the highest price they could get, while the customer wanted to pay as little as they could get away with.

Silco, on the other hand, had the same end goal as the Firelights did. The only real differences were moral boundaries and methodology—and he had admittedly bigger dreams than Ekko ever dared. Silco was ambitious, a magnetic driving force that Ekko had to stop himself from getting sucked into. After only ten minutes of planning, Ekko was already feeling orders of magnitude more optimistic about this deal, and the future of Zaun as a whole. 

Ekko had brought Eve and Scar with him, and they sat together in a room with Silco, Sevika, and Jinx. The very idea of this meeting felt so outlandish only months ago, and yet with every second the respect between each person only grew. He’d expected more tension; instead, Jinx and Eve got on strangely well while Sevika and Scar spent most of the time silently sizing each other up. Honestly, most of the animosity was between himself and Silco. Ekko shook his head, forcefully bringing himself out of a detailed plan for a badly-needed infrastructure update.

“We still need to agree on our terms,” he said firmly, not budging in the face of Silco’s vaguely annoyed look. “We need to be sure you’ll do what you promised before we start making more promises of our own.”

Silco sighed, then nodded acquiescence. He drew on his cigar, giving a lazy motion for Ekko to continue. “Go on, then,” he said, sounding impatient. Ekko narrowed his eyes. If Silco was trying to manipulate them, pretending these terms were unimportant, it wouldn’t work.

“First is what you offered, the first time you wanted to negotiate,” he said sharply. “We want Shimmer production completely discontinued, and the factories dismantled.”

Silo hummed, taking another draw of his cigar. “And you’re sure that’s what you want?” he asked, smoke coloring his words. “You seem experienced in rehabilitating addicts. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what the streets would look like, if Shimmer were to suddenly run dry.”

Ekko looked at his friends, who both looked pensive. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about it; he’d never been close enough to his goal to consider what would happen to the addicts when their drug disappeared. He’d seen what happened to people, to the people around them, when they were cut off. It wasn’t a pretty picture. 

“We’ll have to put infrastructure on hold as well,” Silco mused, leaning back in his chair. “Our first problem will be war against the chembarons, and then finding a new source of income. Not as if Piltover will let any of our tax money be used for clean air and water, and those are not inexpensive projects.”

Ekko shook his head in disgust, scoffing. Not at Silco for once, just at how needlessly complicated it was to do something good, having to weave around the greed of everyone in power. “Why Shimmer?” Ekko asked after a moment, needing to know. Some of the aggression and anger that he’d kept suppressed for this meeting leaked through his body language, harsh movements of his hands and the set of his shoulders. “I get that you needed resources, to gather influence and stand against Piltover. But why would you use a drug like that?”

Silco regarded him for a moment before answering. “Zaun, for all I love about it, has its flaws,” he said. He spoke with gravity, the words feeling heavy as they dropped from his lips, regrettable but undeniable. “Most of them are Piltover’s doing. Did you ever stop to wonder why everyone of influence down here is a criminal? Topside may know me as an industrialist, but you know the truth. Our people don’t have the drive or the resources to support anything else, and if they did, Piltover would take it away.”

Ekko’s brow creased. “What?” he said. He’d noticed, of course, but he always blamed that on Silco. After all, Vander and Benzo had been influential, before Silco had taken over. “What do you mean?”

“Vander ran a protection racket; Benzo sold illegal machinery,” Silco said, like he could read Ekko’s mind. “Even Jericho operates mostly under the table. Any legitimate business or industry, Topside takes over.”

“What about your businesses?” Ekko challenged. “You have to have enough legitimate business for the Pilties to think you’re an industrialist. How come they haven’t taken that from you?”

“They tried,” he said, a small, fond smile on his face. “Financial pressure, blackmail, threats, lawsuits. They tried it all. When they tried to bankrupt me, I stayed afloat with the revenue from Shimmer. When they tried to buy me out, I refused. They set the Enforcers on me, sure they could wrest away my assets if they proved I was breaking the law. Fortunately, Sheriff Marcus is on my payroll.”

Ekko opened his mouth, then closed it again. He felt like screaming, so he huffed out an aborted laugh instead. Piltover had really fucked them over, huh? Even worse than he’d realized. They’d somehow made it so the only people who could ever hold power in Zaun were people like Silco, like the chembarons. He hated them for it.

“Now you see,” Silco said softly. He leaned forward, his eyes probing and intense. “You wish to help our people, cleanse the air and the streets, but they won’t let you. We must free ourselves from under their heel, Ekko. Before you can rebuild, you must first put out the fire.”

Eve spoke up. “You’re a fucked up dude, you know that?”

“I am a product of my environment,” Silco responded smoothly. He leaned back again, relaxing against his armchair. “A monster, perhaps, but one of their own making.”

“We’re a little off-topic, guys,” Jinx interrupted, doodling over a stack of Silco’s paperwork. She was clearly bored—Ekko got the feeling she’d heard a similar lecture from Silco before. She was participating earlier, her technical know-how and engineering genius contributing greatly to their plans for infrastructure, but now she felt like a bystander. She glanced up and saw Ekko looking at her. She stuck her tongue out at him. Ekko made a face right back at her, and she snorted. Eve elbowed him in the side; when he turned to her, she jerked her head at Silco. The man looked like he was just fed the worst bean casserole of his life at a family reunion and was trying to keep a neutral face.

Ekko cleared his throat. “Jinx is right, but we need to make sure we’re on the same page.” He looked at her. “I get you’ve probably heard all this before, but if we’re gonna be working for the same goals, we should hear it too. I might not like Silco or his methods, but I respect experience. We’d be stupid to ignore it.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. Silco looked, grudgingly, like that casserole might not be as bad as he thought. Eve gave him the most unsubtle thumbs-up Ekko had ever seen. He ignored her.

Scar finally spoke up. “Why did you offer?” he asked Silco, his voice like gravel and his face like stone. Silco tilted his head with a questioning hum, prompting Scar to clarify. “You said removing Shimmer was on the table,” Scar said. “Were you lying?”

“It still is on the table,” Silco replied, unruffled. “I just failed to mention that it would be a bad decision.”

Scar grunted in displeasure, and Ekko was inclined to agree. He blew out a harsh breath. “So what is your plan?” he asked. “When you finally got us in here to talk, what were you hoping to get out of it?” 

Silco glanced away, taking a moment to respond in a rare moment of hesitation. “I thought I would need to mold you,” he said. “I didn’t know what you could do for me; I wanted your spirit . I thought you were an angry, and yet optimistic group of rebels in need of direction, and that I would need to teach you to believe in Zaun. The fact that you already did was an unexpected boon.”

Ekko digested that for a moment. It didn’t feel good, that Silco had wanted to mold them, but it was a good insight. It still didn’t completely answer his questions. “And what are the consequences?” Ekko asked. Silco’s eye glinted like he was impressed by the question. Ekko tried to be rational, to remind himself that being on Silco’s good side would make it easier to use him, but it still put a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Consequences of what?” Silco asked. Ekko gritted his teeth. He got the distinct impression that Silco knew what he was asking, and was pushing him to elaborate just to make him think. Benzo used to do the very same thing. How dare Silco try to play the mentor role?

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snapped, unable to reel himself back before speaking. He tried taking a deep breath, but all it did was take him from a boil to a simmer. “No matter what we decide here, there will be consequences. With the chembarons, with the Enforcers, with Shimmer. What plans do you have to deal with all that?”

Silco glanced at a clock hanging in his office before replying. Ekko realized, no matter how much he might want to hash out every detail right here and now, Silco still had a city to run and Zaun wasn’t about to wait for them. 

“That all depends on you,” he said, giving Sevika a nod. She nodded back, and then left. Ekko didn’t know exactly what she was off to do, but he was honestly surprised she’d stayed this long. For everything Silco had on his plate, she had three places to be to make sure his plans went smoothly. Silco continued, “If you are set on eradicating Shimmer, I will need to eliminate the chembarons before they have a chance to gather their forces—I would rather avoid an internal war. My preferred plan is to proceed with the infrastructural improvements we’ve discussed today.”

Ekko thought, letting himself become absorbed by all the options suddenly available to him. The way Silco was talking, he was open to anything Ekko or the Firelights wanted as long as their plan was reliable and it served Zaun, without endangering his goals. He crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against one arm. His leg started bouncing as he stared into space toward a spot on the floor. 

“Ooh, he’s in focus mode,” Jinx said mockingly, leaning forward and poking his cheek. He tried his best to ignore her. He ignored the way Eve raised her eyebrows at him too, and the way a muscle feathered in Silco’s jaw. When Ekko didn’t react, Jinx pouted and flopped backward, lounging across the entire table. He raised a single eyebrow at that. For having changed so much, she really was still Powder. Dramatic, sarcastic, cute. He refocused and pretended he didn’t think that last part.

“Okay, I’ve got some ideas,” he said finally. He looked at Silco. “There’s some things I won’t budge on—we have to take out Renni, somehow. But first, tell me more about the chembarons.”

Silco regarded him for a moment, and Ekko wondered what was going through his mind. Finally he nodded. Even though he’d already shaken Silco’s hand, already agreed to make a deal, this was the moment it all felt real to Ekko. He let out a heavy breath. 

Time to get started.

[]

Silco sat at his desk, distracted. The Firelight leader—Ekko—hadn’t been what he’d expected. Or rather, he’d been exactly what he’d expected, and more. Ekko was younger than Silco had imagined, which was initially a pleasant surprise. With everything he’d accomplished, his potential seemed limitless; not to mention how much easier he would be to influence. Then he’d seen how his daughter interacted with the boy, and the thought soured a bit. He just had to be the same age as Jinx.

Still, he was a professional. If Ekko could put personal grievances aside and work to better Zaun with the man who had murdered his father figure, Silco could handle a bit of flirting. Anything past that, however, and he made no promises. 

Speaking of the betterment of Zaun, however, banished any negative thoughts Silco might be having. After years of dealing with the chembarons, he’d grown used to having to expend money, favors, threats, and more to get anything done. No chembaron would do anything that wasn’t in their own interest. With the Firelights, Silco merely had to provide mechanical blueprints and materials, and they began working on the water filtration pump that had been left broken down for decades. He’d tasked Smeech and the Scrap Hackers to take on that project maybe a year ago, and the price the yordle had demanded was exorbitant. The Firelights hadn’t asked to be paid at all.

Progress might have been slow, but any progress at all was faster than it had ever been. Silco suspected Jinx could speed things along with her almost uncanny knack for anything related to engineering, but he was loath to intentionally have her spend hours of her day working alongside Ekko. Perhaps if he could ever spare Sevika for a day—at least then they’d have supervision. 

What Silco was supposed to be working on at that moment was related to Ekko’s plans with the chembarons. After listening to everything Silco had to say about them, with Jinx interjecting her own opinions and experiences, he’d decided checking their power was the most important order of business. Chross and the Hush Company, who had nearly cornered the market for intelligence and surveillance, were  but controllable. Finn, who had taken over what was left of the Slickjaws after Jinx decimated them, had built a strong enterprise dealing in weaponry and manpower. He was the most dangerous, but also the most useful. Ekko seemed to think they could convert him into a revolutionary, though Silco wasn’t convinced. 

Margot was the head of the Vyx, which presided over most of the brothels, strip clubs, and other pleasure houses; she wasn’t a major threat. She also managed sex work, an area with an extremely high risk of exploitation, with a surprisingly firm set of morals. Removing her from the equation would only invite someone more corrupt, so she was better kept where she was. Smeech needed to be put in his place, but ultimately body augments were something many Zaunites relied on.

Renni was the only one Ekko wouldn’t budge on, insisting that she needed to be eliminated. Silco was hesitant—she and her organization, the Sludgerunners, were developing something she called Chemtank suits, which Silco was very interested in having in his arsenal. Unfortunately, it seemed she was abducting Zaunite orphans for her experiments for those suits. Several members of the Firelights were children who had escaped from her facilities; they said she promised to help cure their fissure lung. Silco knew her experiments had nothing to do with fissure lung.

Silco knew he was willing to sacrifice a great many things for his dream of an independent Zaun. After Powder’s bomb at his cannery, he was fully prepared to kill Vi and Vander’s other two boys. However, the Zaun he was fighting for wasn’t a place that would tolerate experimenting on defenseless children. Even he had a line somewhere.

He turned his attention back to his task. How to limit the chembarons’ power, while keeping them satisfied enough that killing Renni wouldn’t make them turn on him? Perhaps he could turn them on each other. But he didn’t want violence and death between all of the factions, or what was the point in uniting them in the first place? Perhaps Finn would do it for him. Before he took over the Slickjaws, he was a disposable orphan as well, after all. He might take personal issue with her actions. Silco would have to ask Sevika her thoughts.

For now, though, progress was finally being made. He snorted to himself. Progress. How will Piltover react when someone else has it, for change?

Chapter Text

Months later

For scientists, progress often comes slow. Viktor felt that more keenly than most, lacking the privileged upbringing of his peers at the academy. His own progress from a lonely, orphaned cripple to Heimerdinger’s assistant had felt like a glacial crawl. Ever since he’d met Jayce Talis, though, it seemed like progress had finally cured its bad leg and started sprinting. If only Viktor could do the same.

He sat in his and Jayce’s shared lab, scribbling out runes, variations, and inversions. There was so much that could be done! He remembered his first academy project, an engineered strain of grass that fed off of sump-level toxins. According to his professors, the conversion rate was too low to be worth anything. According to investors, it simply wasn’t cost-efficient. As if cost-efficiency was the most important variable of improving lives.

With hextech, though, those problems were nearly nonexistent. Sure, hextech was expensive, but that was artificial. The council made it expensive because it was new, and through manufactured scarcity. They would lose their monopoly soon enough, and then Viktor was sure it would be no more expensive than the chemtech of the Undercity.

The heavy lab doors swung open and closed, allowing Jayce to enter. Viktor glanced up from his work to give a cursory greeting, but paused at the look on his face. He looked even more troubled than he was after his first meeting with investors, and as he began to pace, his eyes never left the floor. 

“Jayce?” Viktor said, and the other man looked up as though he’d only just realized he wasn’t alone. “What’s wrong?”

Jayce paused in his pacing, his broad shoulders tense. He let out a sigh of frustration and dragged a hand down his face. “It’s this letter,” he said tiredly. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and threw it on the desk before resuming his pacing. Viktor picked it up and began to read.

Man of Progress,

I hope when this letter reaches you, your dreams are still intact. For I can tell you are a dreamer, and as you’ve caught the attention of Piltover’s council, I’ve deemed it prudent to warn you what happens to dreamers in Piltover. 

Viktor’s brow furrowed, the crease deepening the longer he read.

As you’ve already experienced, the council doesn’t care about your dreams or your ambitions. Don’t let it slip by you that you only gained their support after proving yourself financially viable. I heard your speech, when you were banished from the academy. You want to save and improve the lives of people who need it—the council won’t let that happen. The only lives they are looking to improve are their own. I implore you to keep your eyes open, and not forget those of us suffering down below. 

Don’t let your dream only line the pockets of the already wealthy, and don’t fool yourself into thinking they care about you. You’ve seen the truth.

~ An Anonymous, Concerned Citizen

Viktor blinked, looking back up at Jayce. “So, what is the problem?” he asked.

Jayce made an affronted sound, gesturing between Viktor and the letter in his hands. “Whoever this is basically said the council is using me! No one should even know about hextech yet, and the anonymous thing is kind of freaking me out, Viktor.”

Viktor blinked. “Excuse me?” he said, genuinely surprised. He supposed he should have known that Jayce sees the best in everyone, considering the way they met, but he still surprised him.

“This… random person,” Jayce continued, running one hand through his hair, “just accused the entire council of being completely corrupt!”

“Yes,” Viktor said, interrupting whatever else Jayce might have to say. “And this surprises you?” The look Jayce gave him was completely baffled, and Viktor had to let out a sardonic chuckle. “I guarantee you the reason this person knows about hextech is because council members are already trying to sell it. Jayce, did you think they chose to believe in you because of your passion? That they defied the Ethos because they saw the wonder in our creation?”

Jayce blinked. “Uh…” 

“They accepted hextech because of how much money it will make them,” Viktor said. “This is obvious. Councilor Medarda has big dreams of international influence for Piltover, and she thinks you can help her achieve that.”

Jayce still wanted to defend them, Viktor could tell. “Being business people doesn’t automatically mean they’re corrupt,” he tried, but Viktor could see his confidence waning. He was obviously reflecting on how he’d been treated before he’d met Viktor. Even his sponsor who he considered a close friend, Councilor Kiramman, had turned her back when his “name was no good”. 

“Jayce,” Viktor said. He was trying to sound gentle, but he knew his cynicism was leaking through. “It’s been three years now, and all we have made progress on is the hexgates. Which, might I add, will only benefit the wealthy. This invention will cut the Undercity out of Piltover’s international trade—that is not good for the common man. The council doesn’t care about the Undercity.”

“That’s not true, Viktor—”

“Have you seen the way they look at me?” Viktor asked. Jayce opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head mutely. “That’s because they don’t, Jayce. They don’t look at me because I’m an eyesore to them. You’re the man of progress, and I’m the trencher they don’t want to think about.”

Jayce let out a long breath, shaking his head. His eyes were wide, like he was just realizing that his invention could be used to hurt just as easily as it could help. “Then what do we do?” he asked.

Viktor hesitated, then turned back to his notebook. His pencil marks were just a hair more aggressive than before. “I don’t know.”

[]

Jinx’s patience had, predictably, not lasted long with Silco. She could tell he was trying to keep her away from the Firelights, but she didn’t know why. She’d proven herself to him with this entire ordeal, she was the whole reason they were on the same side at all! After a while, she was starting to think he just didn’t believe she could take care of herself. Which went against everything he told her; it didn’t make sense. 

Obviously, she started slipping away to work on that water pump every time Silco turned around. Whether the Firelights were there or not, she usually managed a solid few hours before Silco needed her elsewhere. She knew this was what she was good at, and she wasn’t going to let her father stop her from contributing just because he didn’t believe in her. It was more fun when the Firelights were there, but she didn’t mind working alone. Tonight was one of those nights that she hadn’t found time until after dark, and all the Firelights were back home. Wherever home was for them—she hoped Ekko would tell her eventually. Frustratingly, she’d only gotten to talk with him a handful of times in the several months since the deal, and never for very long.

She’d fabricated a second record player that was playing some of her music now, but considering the location, it wasn’t nearly as loud as she usually liked. Too close to Topside, where Enforcers might overhear. She hummed along, pausing to savor a particularly delicious guitar riff, drowning out the voices through rock music and hard work. She was so in the zone, she jumped and nearly shot the skinny Piltie man when he hobbled through the door. He was dressed in academy clothes, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Woah there mister,” Jinx laughed, quickly putting her gun away and pretending nothing happened. “Scared me a little.” Judging by the way he stared wide-eyed at the weapon even after it was holstered, her attempt at diffusing didn’t work as well as she’d hoped.

“How do you have that?” he asked, and Jinx immediately perked up at his voice. That accent was not Piltie. 

“You’re from the Undercity?” she asked interestedly, eyeing his clothes. “What’s with the getup?”

He looked down at himself. “Yes, I’m from the Undercity—now tell me, how do you have that weapon?”

“Uh, built it. Duh.”

The man stared at her for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Are you sure you’re from the Undercity?” Jinx said, raising her eyebrows. “Stranger danger, man.”

“Right, sorry. It’s… been a while.” He shifted his grip on his cane, moving weight off of his bad leg. “That must be the only gun in the whole of the Undercity.”

Jinx smirked, her chest puffing up a bit. “Nope!” she said. “I also have two more.”

He blinked, looking uncomfortable. Jinx thought it was hilarious. He looked around, examining the changes that had been made recently to this room. “I… didn’t expect anyone to be here,” he admitted. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Jinxed asked. The stranger let out a heavy sigh, his gaze turning to the opening in the small room. There was a serene, picturesque waterfall and lake right outside, and you could even see the stars from here.

“This has always been my… refuge, of sorts. To hide away from the world,” he said. “I’ve needed space to think, recently.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jinx laughed, feeling a pang of… sympathy? Irritation? She could sure as hell use some space to think.

“And you?” he asked, turning back towards her. “What are you doing here, so late at night?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“I don’t believe I do know, actually.”

Jinx snorted. For a guy that came across as so timid and sophisticated, she was a fan of his dry sarcasm. “I’m helping fix the water filters,” she caved. “Most of Zaun’s water comes through here—the whole of the Lanes would have clean water, if it actually worked.”

“Zaun?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “That is a reference to Oshra Va’Zaun, no?”

“Oh, he’d like you,” Jinx snarked.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

There was a short silence as Jinx resumed her work, the strange scientist watching thoughtfully. “Did you say this was a water purification system?” he eventually asked.

“Yup,” Jinx replied without looking up, popping the ‘p’. “It was supposed to be, at least. Never got finished, and then it broke down. Go figure.”

The man hummed. “Would you mind if I helped? I’m sure there’s something I could do.”

Jinx glanced up, taking in his fancy clothes again. “You one of those wannabe philanthropist types?” she jabbed, grinning. “Worked hard to get into a Piltie school, just to find out they won’t approve any Undercity projects?”

The man was caught off guard. “Eh, what…?” he chuckled awkwardly.

“My old man was one of those,” Jinx said, turning back to her project again. “Got accepted into law school up Top, wanted to change things. Guess it just doesn’t work that way.”

Silco had actually done that—Jinx had been shocked. She supposed it explained his sense of style though. It also explained why he’d never wanted to use his considerable resources to let Jinx attend the academy. The mistreatment and deep-seated corruption just wasn’t worth it, according to him.

“And… what is he doing now?” the stranger asked her. There was a resigned note in his voice, but also a hint of reluctant hope. Like maybe, if her father had managed to make a difference despite everything, he could too. Silco had taught her to recognize opportunities like this, but she didn’t think this man would appreciate Silco’s solution.

“He became a ruthless crime lord and united the underground with control of everyone’s favorite drug.” That would inspire this guy, Jinx was sure.

Instead, she chuckled a bit and kept it vague. “Oh, he’s changing things all right,” she said. “He just decided to stop asking for permission.”

Jinx, preoccupied with one of the more finicky pieces of the assembly she was working on, couldn’t see the man’s face as he fell silent again. After a moment, though, he said, “You’re right.” Jinx mentally clapped herself on the back for saying the right thing. “Your father is a smart man,” he continued. “In the spirit of that advice, where should I start?” He wasn’t asking to help, anymore. Jinx snorted.

“I don’t know what you’re good at,” she pointed out. “I don’t even know your name.”

The man hobbled closer, peering at the piece she was still struggling with. He guided her hand up and to the left, until the piece snapped into place with a satisfying click.

He smiled. “It’s Viktor,” he told her.

[]

Ekko was in completely uncharted territory, in a number of ways. He was working on a level of organization that was foreign to him, under actual orders for the first time in his life, and the amount of money he was managing was mind-boggling. Silco was trying to teach him how to work around the law, to break it in ways that would make the Pilties look the other way, but it was difficult when all Ekko wanted to do was the opposite of what the older man said.

Still, if he wanted to phase out Shimmer—raw and recreational Shimmer, at least—this was necessary. He was exploring other avenues of profit, and the first viable option was shipping. Well, smuggling. Quite similar, in practice. His target customers were the councilors and their upper circles, who all apparently had quite a taste for illegal goods. Ironic, in Ekko’s opinion, considering they were the ones who decided what was legal and what wasn’t.

With Silco’s connections and influence and the Firelights’ natural adaptability and tenacity, he’d already grown an impressive enterprise, showing up on the radar for established shipping lanes and rival gangs alike. Apparently Silco and Vander had gotten into smuggling when they were young as well, and used that money to build the Lanes into what they were. Ekko had some plans that would hopefully take him further than they got.

Right now, Ekko was in an uncomfortable outfit that Silco had procured for him. He needed to look professional or some shit, even if Ekko thought it just made him look sleazy. He sure wouldn’t trust anyone dressed like this, at least. It was much simpler than what Silco had presented at first, with a far more Zaunite style and color scheme than what most of Silco’s goons wore. Silco had really liked Ekko’s argument that success and wealth didn’t mean conforming to Piltie clothing trends. His pants were still striped, his shirt sleeves still asymmetrical, and he had a leather glove with studded knuckles on one hand. He refused to change his hair, though the painted hourglass was gone for the occasion. Instead, he had a smaller Firelight symbol on his cheek. 

This meeting was with one of the chembarons, and some rich Noxian looking to buy weaponry. The chembaron was Finn, and on top of the sheer amount of money Ekko could make with this delivery, this was a chance to get a read on the most influential of the chembarons. He might even be able to forge some kind of partnership—illegal arms dealing would always exist, and if he could make a connection with the current head of operations, it would be easier to keep a handle on it. Better the devil you know, and all that.

If there was anything Ekko knew he was good at, it was acting confident when he wasn’t. He didn’t let any of his nerves or inexperience show as he passed the guards and pushed open the door, finding Finn and the Noxian already waiting. This was the first time he’d seen either of them, and he had to say, even though the Noxian was one of the largest men he’d ever seen, Finn was the one who took up the whole room. Ekko was still proud of the professional and yet still Zaunite outfit he’d put together, but Finn took it to the next level. He was flashy to the point that Piltover would call him obnoxious, with the kind of flare any good Zaunite would appreciate.

The Noxian, wearing a black mask, stood up. Finn had taken up space with his presence, his style, and his confidence, but suddenly the warlord was actually, physically taking up the whole room. Ekko caught himself just before releasing an impressed whistle. That would probably not look professional. Ekko didn’t know the guy’s name, just that he represented some bigshot.

“General,” Ekko greeted curtly with a nod. The man grunted in response, and Ekko’s hand felt tiny as he shook it in greeting. Finn never stood, simply giving him a lazy once-over. Ekko knew Finn clocked him as a Firelight by the mark on his cheek, but he didn’t say anything yet.

“So you’re the delivery boy, eh?” the Noxian said, sounding surprisingly jovial for a guy that probably had more blood on his hands than even Silco.

“Not me, no,” Ekko said, matching the more relaxed energy. “I just tell them where to go. Best delivery guys you’ll ever find, though.”

“Sounds like it,” he said, sinking back into his chair. The poor piece of furniture creaked torturously. “You claim you can deliver my shipments to my ship without docking? How?”

“Well that would just ruin the mystery, wouldn’t it? You’ll see,” Ekko said. “Now, what kind of weight are we handling for this delivery?” This question was directed at both the Noxian and Finn, who was flicking his lighter open and closed as he watched Ekko talk.

“It’ll be around, say, three hundred pounds?” Finn said. It sounded like a half-assed estimation, but Ekko was sure it was accurate. Finn’s accent was attention-grabbing, clearly Zaunite despite the more sophisticated way he spoke.

“That’s all?” Ekko said, surprised. Considering how much money was changing hands with this deal, he’d expected literal tonnes of weaponry. 

“Two hundred of that is the Shimmer crates,” the Noxian confirmed. “These blades better be everything you say they are, boy,” he warned Finn. “We need more than regular swords to take on the Medardas.”

Ekko was immensely proud of himself for not reacting to that. The Medardas, as in Councilor Medarda? He needed more information about whatever was going on here. “Oh, they won’t disappoint,” Finn promised smoothly. “And remember, when you need more Shimmer, I’m your guy.”

The mention of Shimmer had caught Ekko off guard before, but now it made sense. These were probably plasma blades, powered by a variant of Shimmer used in chemtech blends. Sevika’s arm, for example, was powered by the vials on her sash. If you tried to drink one of those, you would die.

“Be ready for your shipment at midnight,” Ekko put in. “We’ll be there.”

So far, he hadn’t gotten tired of seeing people’s dumbfounded faces when their goods descended from the sky, carried by masked riders on glowing boards.

“It better not just be one of those airships,” the general said with a laugh. “That’d be disappointing.”

“Too noticeable,” Ekko said, shaking his head. He shook the man’s hand again, and then Finn’s this time. He slipped a paper into Finn’s palm during the shake, which Finn tucked in his sleeve with surprising deftness. 

“Remember; midnight.” And then he left. No rest for the weary, and he had more to do.

[]

Silco tapped his pointer finger on his desk thoughtfully. Ekko had been a better investment than he’d bargained for, and the boy was wildly ambitious. He was already looking at opportunities beyond their shores, and his idea with the Medardas was dangerous. Still, if he could figure out what was going on, he could have a card to pull against Councilor Medarda herself. Considering she was essentially pulling the strings of the entire council, this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Not to mention, when Zaun finally did come to be its own nation, they would need to make a statement on the international scene to avoid becoming vulnerable.

What he had to be careful not to do was give someone like Ambessa Medarda an excuse to invade the Undercity. Noxians were quite prickly, in Silco’s experience. All too happy to take what wasn’t theirs, just like Piltover. The door opened to his study, and Chross rolled in on his wheelchair. He was a distinctive character, if not as overt as Finn or Margot. He carried a more quiet kind of presence with him, similar to Silco himself. 

“Welcome, and thank you for making time for me,” Silco said graciously. He and Chross both knew it was a bit of a farce, but the older man played along. Chross wasn’t doing Silco any favors by meeting with him—he didn’t have a choice.

“Of course, old friend,” Chross chuckled, clasping his hands together in front of him. “What do you need my services for today?”

Normally Silco would indulge him in some mind games and wordplay for a bit, but the day had been long and the week had been longer. He cut straight to the point. “What connections do you have for intelligence outside Zaun’s borders?” Silco asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. “I need information on the Medarda’s.”

Chross’s eyebrows shot up to his bowler hat. “The Medardas?” he checked, as if he’d heard wrong. “I have some connections, but none with that kind of influence.”

Silco’s lips twitched downward. “Then find more. I hear the Medarda clan under pressure, and I want to know why.”

Chross sat silently for a while, letting his eyes fall to the ground and wringing his hands. “I have some avenues I believe I can pursue—some mercenary in Bilgewater might take a job like that.”

“Then pursue them,” Silco said, waving his hand. “You’re dismissed.”

Chross looked at Silco for a moment in that strangely analytical way of his before nodding and rolling back out the door he’d come in through. Silco massaged his temples—he’d been pushing himself hard lately, between attempting to mentor a very antagonistic and reluctant Ekko and keeping Jinx too busy to get close to him. Add that on top of running the Lanes and keeping up with his plans for the future, and his normally busy schedule was becoming increasingly frantic. 

He flipped to Ekko’s other idea, regarding Finn. It was… bold, to say the least. He’d suggested using the chembaron to commoditize Zaunite culture, and then sell it to Topside. Pilties may scorn trenchers, their city and their life, but there was something undeniably alluring about something considered taboo. If presented in a pretty package, covered in gold and clean from the grime—in other words, if the image of the Undercity were tied to someone like Finn—it could become a fun, deviant indulgence for Topsiders craving excitement. 

Ekko’s idea was to turn Finn into a type of celebrity, use him as the face of their enterprises to charm Piltover’s citizens. In doing so, they could profit off of the novelty while increasing the general opinion of Zaun. Having a mainstream presence would also help in introducing the name and concept of Zaun and forging an identity in the minds of the people. 

The idea had merit, but it was also risky. If, by some miracle, the people of Piltover grew to like the culture of Zaun, to enjoy it, they would be far less likely to ever let them go. Ekko argued that a deal or bribe for indepence from the council would be more likely if the person they were dealing with was tied to something they liked and respected. Silco just wasn’t sure.

Still, things were moving at a much accelerated rate. Silco had a timeline laid out meticulously for each stage of his plans and where he wanted to be, and during the several months of working with the Firelights, they’d flown through what would have taken a year of mind-numbing work. Things were looking up.

And then, on Progress Day, the hexgates were unveiled. It all began to fall apart.

Chapter Text

Ekko barely managed to not slam the door as he left Silco’s office, after another meeting. Every time he met with the guy, he left with a confusing mess of emotions. Sometimes optimistic, usually determined, and always some mix of frustrated, disgusted, and angry. They’d gotten a lot done already with this tense alliance, which was enough to convince him not to bash Silco’s stupid mismatched face in, but damn if he didn’t want to sometimes. At least Ekko mostly had Jinx in his corner—Silco folded like a wet paper towel when it came to her, and Ekko had used that to make him approve some pretty costly projects.

The one that was taking up most of his mind right now was a type of Shimmer rehabilitation center, mixed with an urgent care facility. It had been a long shot when one of the Firelights suggested it, but after Ekko had gotten Jinx on board to pester him about it, Silco had finally caved.

There was just so much going on right now. Ekko’s ventures into smuggling were starting to stagnate thanks to the hexgates, and it seemed everyone else’s profits were suffering as well. That had seemed to be the push Finn needed to accept his proposal, delivered through Silco, of turning himself into a public figure in Piltover. The image they were going for was a sort of dark mirror for Jayce Talis, without the sunshine and rainbows. A bit sharper, more dangerous in a seductive sort of way, but still trustworthy. Ekko wasn’t sure if Finn would be able to pull it off, but he seemed intrigued by the challenge.

On top of all that, progress on the water filter had sped up considerably thanks to some stray Piltie scientist that Jinx had found. Jinx insisted he wasn’t a Piltie, but Ekko only needed to look at his clothes to know he wasn’t exactly a Zaunite. He went home at night to a Piltie bed, and that made him a Piltie.

Ekko was so preoccupied he almost jumped out of his skin when a demon with long, blue braids dropped out of the sky directly in front of him.

“Heya, Little Man!” she said, looking him up and down. “Why the rush? Got some time?” She was holding a bag, and it carried the unmistakable, mouthwatering smell of Jericho’s. Seafood curry, specifically; his favorite. Did she remember? He was pretty sure she preferred the calamari and stir fry.

Ekko hesitated. On one hand, no, it did not feel like he had any time. But even as he thought that, he could see her reading the thought in his eyes. Her face fell, and he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Besides, he’d been struggling for months to find a chance to just talk to her, spend some time without Silco in the room breathing down his neck. Eve’s badgering him about it was starting to get irritating.

“Sure,” he decided with a shrug, smiling a little when she brightened back up. “Everything’s crazy, but if you don’t got time then just make some, right? What’s up?”

It felt a little surreal, talking this casually with Jinx. To just chat, decide to hang out and share a meal. Some part of his mind kept reminding him how dangerous she was, no matter how he tried to ignore it. Another part of his mind kept reminding him how much he liked dangerous things, and he tried even harder to ignore that.

She led him to that lookout, the one Vi used to bring them to where you could see the whole of both cities spread out in front of you. It was close to the Last Drop, Silco’s headquarters, so Ekko hadn’t been here since Vi had last taken him. He let out a breath as he looked out, sinking to sit on the floor next to his friend. She pulled the container of food from her bag, and with a grin, they both dug in. 

It wasn’t the Zaunite way to talk much while they ate. Not because they cared about propriety or anything stupid like that—if you talked, you did it with your mouth full—but because when there’s food in front of you, it’s time to eat, not waste any time. So the two sat in a comfortable silence as they just enjoyed the food and the company, until the bowl was wiped clean and they were both left with full, satisfied bellies.

“Been a while since I’ve been up here,” Ekko murmured, eyes locked on the horizon. Jinx hummed in response, and when he glanced over, her eyes were on him. She quickly looked away. 

“I don’t come here often, either,” she admitted. Her eyes flicked up, over Ekko’s shoulder, and she scowled before looking down again. “It’s just… memories are hard, sometimes.”

Ekko turned, but no one was there. He remembered on the airship, her little episode after Eve had lost her mask. He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. Boy Savior, she’d called him. He didn’t know how to help with this, how to save her from this. After a moment of deliberating, he leaned her way, bumping her shoulder with his. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, giving him an unsure smile. 

She sighed, letting her head droop. “How are you so good?” she whispered, quiet enough that Ekko had to lean even closer just to hear her. “How are you all so good?”

Ekko hesitated. “I—what do you mean?” he asked her. She huffed, turning herself away from him, but simultaneously letting herself lean fully into his side. He couldn’t tell what she was feeling, if she wanted comfort or distance. As for him, his heart was beating out of his ribcage, but he was preoccupied making sure she was okay.

“You, Eve, all your stupid bug friends,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Why don’t you hate me still? How are you not…” she waved her arms around aimlessly before wrapping them around herself again, “…broken? Like me.”

Ekko felt his heart in his throat. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he knew how much trust she was already giving him just letting their shoulders touch. She was always a tactile person, and he didn’t want to push any of her boundaries. 

“I never hated you,” Ekko finally said, pushing forward despite her scoff of disbelief. “I wanted to. I told myself I did. But even at our worst, I couldn’t make myself hate you.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then, “I could never make myself hate you, either. I’m sorry I told you I did, that day.”

The day he’d gotten that stupid nickname, when he’d recklessly barged into her new life and told her he would save her. Ekko wouldn’t blame himself for what he’d done, he didn’t know any better. He understood why she’d reacted that way now, at least. All his pleading with her, his spiteful words against Silco for killing their families, while she was sitting there thinking it was all her fault.

“It’s okay,” Ekko said. He couldn’t help bringing a hand up to grip her shoulder, wanting to comfort her in any way he could. And, maybe he was looking for a little comfort, too. “We both said things we didn’t mean, that night.”

Jinx turned toward him, her eyes flickering over his face in a way that made his mouth feel dry. He met her eyes, wide, vulnerable, almost afraid. She looked away before speaking again. “Do you think Vi meant it?” she asked, her voice cracking. 

Ekko sucked in a breath. What happened to Vi, what happened between them? Vi would have done anything for Powder. Anything. “I don’t know what she said,” Ekko started, then continued hurriedly when she flinched, “but you don’t have to tell me; I know that she loved you. Whatever it was, of course she didn’t mean it.”

“She loved me before I blew up her family, you mean,” Jinx muttered miserably. She flinched again, this time at nothing. She swiped her hand through the empty space to the other side of her, leaning further into Ekko. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, even as he winced at her words. What a mess they were.

Ekko took a moment to think, to let her gather herself or maybe say something more. Finally, he said, “You asked how we’re not broken—the Firelights and me. We’re all broken, Jinx. Everyone is a little bit broken, and we’re helping each other put ourselves back together. Even Vi was a little broken, and she was the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Jinx shrunk in on herself. “Okay,” she said in a small voice. She didn’t sound convinced. “But… I had Silco. He helped put me back together, keeps helping me, and I’m still broken. No matter what he does, no matter what anyone does, I keep breaking myself.”

Ekko sighed. “Silco…” He grit his teeth. “Silco loves you, Jinx,” he ground out, even though he hated to admit it. “But he’s even more broken than you, I think. He’s just better at hiding it.”

Jinx’s eyes were wary. Confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“He’s trying to help you, but he doesn’t know how,” Ekko insisted. He couldn’t help glancing around, knowing that Silco would want to kill him if he heard even half of this conversation. The feeling was mutual; Ekko wanted to throttle the man the first time he heard him talk about his history with Vander. “He tried to glue himself back together with hate and anger, and it didn’t work. He thinks it did, but it didn’t.”

“If you haven’t noticed, he’s doing just fine,” Jinx huffed, rolling her eyes. “He’s doing pretty damn well for himself, if you ask most people.”

Ekko just shook his head. “It kept him alive,” he conceded. “But his hard-won lessons aren’t the reason he’s gotten this far.” He couldn’t stop himself from doing a short, mocking impression. It wasn’t a good impression, but it was better than Jinx’s.

She snickered, even though the tension didn’t leave her shoulders. “Then what is?” she asked him.

“You.” Jinx blinked at him, taken aback. “His hate for Vander and Piltover isn’t what keeps him together anymore. He does it for you now, Jinx.”

She flinched again, harder this time. She forced out a frantic-sounding laugh, like that would make it all a meaningless joke. “You know, he says that sometimes,” she said, leaning back and away. He missed the feel of her already; he forced the thought away. Her gun was suddenly in her hands, spinning restlessly in her fingers, and her smile was tinged with desperation. “He says, I need you, Jinx. For this or that. And I—I love it. It means everything to me. Isn’t that a cosmic joke?” She giggled again, a little breathless. She was looking at Ekko, waiting for him to… what, agree with her?

“He does need you,” Ekko said simply. He wished he could take her from Silco, separate them forever, but he didn’t know if Jinx would ever recover. If helping her meant helping him—forgiving him even, someday—Ekko would do it. Even if it still made him feel sick.

Jinx’s rambling and giggles cut off with a stutter, and she collapsed against him. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Ekko let the silence stretch, content to just sit with her as long as she needed. He wondered when was the last time someone had done that for her.

“I guess Silco needs help too, huh?” Jinx said eventually. “It hurts him, to keep hating Vander.”

Ekko swallowed back a scoff. “Yeah,” he replied reluctantly. “Yeah, he does.”

Jinx let out a long, exaggerated breath, letting her head fall to rest on Ekko’s shoulder. His breath hitched and he immediately felt paralyzed, like when a frightened cat chooses your lap and you’re afraid to scare it away. “It’s nice to have someone else to talk to,” she mumbled, like she almost didn’t want him to hear it. She tilted her head up to peer into his eyes, still resting on his shoulder. “You… you really don’t hate me? Promise?” Her eyes were disbelieving and timidly hopeful at the same time.

Her face was really close—he could feel her breath on his jaw. His mind was empty and racing all at once. “Promise,” he managed to whisper. Her eyes didn’t leave his for several moments after that, moments that lasted forever but ended too soon. Her head dropped down again, and Ekko realized he could breathe. He tilted his head back to the sky and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull himself together as Jinx let herself relax against him, silently accepting his promise. She played idly with the buttons on his new shirt—his meeting shirt, as he liked to call it.

“I miss the jacket,” she said. Ekko chuckled.

“Me too,” he said.

They fell quiet again. Jinx’s eyes didn’t flicker to shadows, she didn’t flinch or glare at things only she could see or hear. Ekko hoped the moment was just as quiet for her, just as comfortable. He hoped she felt the same way he was feeling. He glanced down and saw her pale skin had a faint, rosy tint across her cheeks, and her dark lips were smiling as she stared out across the cityscape. She was… soft, in this moment, and even though he liked her sharp and dangerous, he found that he liked her this way, too.

He couldn’t just forget the things she’d done. Not to her family but after, in the years between. But he also knew he could never stop caring about her. The past couldn’t be changed, but… maybe it was up to him to decide what it meant. Maybe it was time to try building something new.

[]

Viktor had believed, perhaps naively, that his days of illegal research and experiments were behind him. It had felt like a one-time thing, a calculated risk that paid off perfectly. He should have known himself better than that. His internal debate over the morality of taking another such risk hadn’t lasted ten seconds.

Well, he reasoned, the research he was doing now wasn’t technically illegal. Hextech was perfectly legal now, and Viktor himself was one of the only two people authorized to develop it. His project was just as legal as everything else that happened in the lab he shared with Jayce. What he was planning on doing with it, though, broke at least three laws he could think of off the top of his head. Fortunately, all research related to hextech was classified. With any luck, no one would ever even know.

Without warning, the door to the lab burst open and slammed against the wall. Viktor nearly fell off his chair as Jayce hurried in, having kicked the door open because his hands were full of materials. He seemed in a rush, dropping everything in his arms into a messy pile on his desk before searching through it. Viktor subtly slid the schematic he was working on underneath a blueprint of the hexgates. He trusted Jayce, it was just… old habits were hard to break. Jayce was too trusting, too naive to ask for help. He would want to tell Councilor Medarda— Mel, he called her. Like she was their friend.

“Viktor, we need to go,” Jayce said, sounding harried. He was still sifting through his pile, looking for something. Viktor frowned.

“What?” he asked. “I wasn’t aware we had anywhere to be.”

Jayce froze, then whirled on him. “I didn’t tell you?!” he said frantically. “We have a meeting with the council in—” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “…uh—right now!”

Viktor winced. That wasn’t a good look. Luckily for him, not his problem. “I don’t see why they would need me to attend,” he said, turning back to his desk. His words were perhaps a bit sharper than usual; he’d been spending more and more time on the other side of the bridge, and the blue-haired girl’s attitude had started to rub off on him. “You should hurry.”

“No,” Jayce said firmly. “I want you there, and I don’t give a shit what any of them think about it.” Viktor blinked in surprise. Jayce often invited Viktor to join him in the spotlight and receive some acknowledgement, but Viktor always declined and Jayce had never pushed the issue before. But, Viktor had noticed some distinct changes in his friend as of late. 

It had all started with that letter. Jayce had started declining invitations to galas that didn’t include Viktor; he’d started giving priority to undercity internship applicants; he’d even once called Councilor Salo several unflattering names in the middle of a trial, after the blonde man referred to the defendant as “trencher trash”. 

“I’m not going to try to force you,” Jayce continued after Viktor didn’t respond. “But I want you there by my side. Will you come?”

Viktor groaned. How was he supposed to say no to that?

Viktor was sure he could have found a way to say no. He wished he did. He didn’t know why he expected this to go any differently from every other council meeting he’d attended, but Jayce had a way of making him believe things could change. But the councilors still let their eyes glaze over Viktor like he wasn’t there as they gently reprimanded Jayce for being late. Only Heimerdinger acknowledged his presence at all, greeting him with a smile and a nod. It was a small consolation that Jayce looked even more irritated than Viktor felt about it. Jayce was wearing that smile he wore when he was barely holding himself together, and it astounded Viktor that the councilors didn’t even seem to notice.

“Jayce, are you okay?” asked Councilor Medarda. Most of them didn’t notice, Viktor supposed.

“I’m fine, Councilor. Thank you for asking,” Jayce said. Jayce was a horrible liar. Councilor Medarda’s eyebrows furrowed. Before she could press him about it, Jayce took a deep breath and started the meeting. Viktor was pretty sure that Jayce didn’t have the authority to do that, but no one said anything about it. “Councilors, I’m here with my partner, Viktor, to report on our progress with hextech. First and foremost are the hexgates.”

“Ah, yes!” Councilor Hoskel interrupted jovially, as if he had anything meaningful to contribute. “Wonderful, they’re just wonderful. How are your plans for expansion coming along?”

Usually, as soon as he started talking about hextech, Jayce would gradually become more animated, more excited. He was a natural presenter, and his passion was one of the things Piltover loved about him the most. This time, his eyes stayed cold. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood rigid, his posture like a stone wall.

“We’ve decided that expanding the hexgates should be put on hold,” Jayce announced bluntly, and no one in the room was more shocked than Viktor. Hoskel started blustering something indignantly, though it was completely unintelligible. Shoola frowned in confusion, Kiramman looked irate, and Salo was looking around the room with a face like he’d never been more personally offended. Councilor Medarda in particular seemed to be studying him, her lips pursed. 

“Our investments—” Councilor Salo started, incredulous, but Jayce interrupted him.

“Your investments were wise, and you’ll see tremendous returns,” Jayce promised, but he was still distant. It was a stark contrast to his usual warm, personable self. “But I feel obligated to remind you, hextech was not invented to make you money.” There was a sharp gasp from several seats, and Viktor’s eyes widened. He’d never seen anyone so bold in front of the Council itself. “Viktor helped me invent hextech to aid people that need our help,” Jayce continued, undaunted. “Further advancements of the hexgates will be put on hold, in favor of more promising projects.”

Quiet murmurs broke out, confused and skeptical. Viktor held his breath; if it was anyone else, he was sure their funding would be about to plummet. For the Man of Progress, though…

“Jayce,” Councilor Kiramman said, a warning note in her voice. “I sponsored you because I believe in your potential, but you mustn’t test the trust we’ve given you. We expected the capacity of the hexgates to triple by the end of the year.”

“Trust me, I remember how easy it is to lose your support,” Jayce said acidly. The councilwoman recoiled, placing a hand over her heart in shock. Viktor felt like was watching a stage drama.

“Are we allowed to know what those other projects are?” Councilor Medarda cut in gently, raising her hand for attention. Jayce inclined his head in her direction, pure polite professionalism. It was strange, considering the constant, unsubtle flirting between them that had happened until recently. However, instead of responding, Jayce stepped to the side and looked directly at Viktor. 

Viktor froze, all eyes suddenly on him. What did Jayce expect him to do? They hadn’t talked about this! He shot Jayce a glare, and got an apologetic wince in return. Viktor huffed, then reluctantly pulled himself to his feet using his cane, carefully hiding his discomfort. What should he even talk about? He thought again of the blue-haired girl at the water pump, who, after several more meetings and hours of collaboration, still had not told him her name.

He gathered his confidence and cleared his throat, suppressing a cough. “Hextech is still young,” he declared, hoping his voice carried half as well as Jayce’s did. He’d always been more soft spoken. “There are numerous avenues to pursue, and we cannot yet tell what will yield the best results. We are currently exploring purification systems and specialized tools, as well as conducting research into the runes and their uses.”

“I’ll tell you what will give you results,” Councilor Salo scoffed. Apparently he felt safe to complain, now that it was only Viktor speaking instead of their prized poster boy. “Those hexgate expansions would solidify Piltover as a global shipping lane! Triple the capacity means triple the profits, triple the trade!”

Viktor just sighed, but Jayce stepped forward with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Viktor would almost call it disdain, but that didn’t sound right. Not from Jayce. He smiled, but it was distinctly strained. “I know that progress can be exciting; the hexgates are doing more for this city than even I expected. But progress isn’t always about more. This time, before reaching for more, I’d invite the Council to look around and ask yourselves, does everyone else have enough? What’s the point of reaching the clouds, if your brothers and sisters are still on the ground?”

The silence after Jayce’s short speech was tangible. Viktor watched as their audience looked between each other, at the ground, or anywhere other than at Jayce. He felt like laughing, felt like curling up on his bed and screaming into a pillow. He glared at his feet, wishing he could be anywhere else—preferably in the Undercity, losing himself in righteous work and entertaining company. He wondered how Jayce would get along with his new, nameless friend.

Viktor looked up as Jayce began closing the meeting, only to feel himself freeze as he locked eyes with Mel Medarda. She was looking directly at him, her gaze calculating and thoughtful. He offered her a nod, his heart rate picking up anxiously, and she smiled at him. Viktor didn’t know what to make of it.

Well… at least she didn’t seem angry, right? Councilor Medarda was their primary support, both financially and politically, and it would be a huge blow to alienate her.

“Thank you for attending this meeting, and I hope we will be honored by your continued patronage. We’re changing the world for the better, and we’d love for you to be a part of it,” Jayce finished, his words crisp and practiced. He gave a short bow, then put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he turned to leave. Jayce met his eyes, with an easily recognizable look that said, Can we talk? Viktor followed him from the room after giving his own hasty bow, limping to catch up.

Jayce slowed his stride as Viktor drew even with him, allowing him to keep pace without pushing himself. Viktor appreciated the gesture immensely, but at the same time he hated the reminder of his own limitations. He shook off the feeling, scolding himself for being irrational. Jayce led him to a private room and closed the door, and only then did the tension bleed from Jayce’s posture. He groaned, shoulders slumping, and collapsed on an available chair. Viktor sank into another seat facing him.

“I don’t know how you’ve dealt with this for all these years,” Jayce huffed, resting his forehead on one of his hands. Almost as soon as Viktor had made himself comfortable in his chair, Jayce was on his feet again, pacing.

“What do you mean?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow. He stayed seated, stretching his leg out in front of him and massaging it gingerly.

“What do I mean,” Jayce scoffed, like it was a ridiculous question. The pent-up emotion finally erupted. “These people are insufferable!” he exploded. He gesticulated with his whole body, the way he did when his emotions ran high. Viktor had never met someone more honest and expressive. “I’m tired of pretty words and pretty dreams, Viktor. I’m tired of pretty smiles that don’t mean anything. I’m sick of these people living in big, beautiful houses, with big, beautiful windows that they don’t even look through! I’m tired of only being allowed to help the people that don’t need it.”

Viktor was frozen, speechless as he just stared at his friend. Jayce didn’t even notice his reaction, so caught up in his pacing and ranting. He whirled, suddenly facing Viktor and addressing him directly again.

“How?” he asked, almost demanded. “How do you deal with this—this—” he waved his hands, searching for a word, “— shit?”

Viktor blinked, then shrugged. “Ah… I’ve become numb to it, I suppose,” he offered. He hoped Jayce couldn’t tell that he was fighting back tears—tears of pure vindication. “It’s something I’ve had to face all my life. I was never in a position to fight it, so I overcame.”

Jayce’s fist clenched, and he turned away, burying his face in his hands. “I need to get to the forge,” he muttered. “Before I break something.” 

He stormed through the door, leaving Viktor feeling something in his chest both foreign and familiar. He remembered this feeling, years ago, when Jayce had first shared his dream with him. His first true friend since coming to Piltover, maybe his first real friend ever. That feeling of knowing someone had your back, with you till the end. Now, that feeling was even stronger. Jayce wasn’t just friends with Viktor, the gifted scientist who had helped realize his dreams. He was friends with Viktor, the crippled orphan from the Undercity with nothing to call his own but his ideas. Jayce saw Viktor as only one other person ever had, and he was still there. Fighting in his corner.

Viktor slumped, overwhelmed with something he couldn’t name. He rested his elbows against his knees and hung his head. He chuckled to himself, his voice thick with emotion. Was this what it felt like to have a brother? He couldn’t remember what it felt like to have any family, if he was being honest. 

Perhaps he could tell Jayce about his projects—his still very illegal projects—after all.

[]

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of Zaun, the gears of Silco’s revolution never stopped turning.

“Relax, Sheriff,” Silco said easily, his lit with dark amusement. “This time, I’m asking you to do your job.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed, one hand in his pocket as he gripped a bloody coin. He remembered the last time Silco had “helped” him do his job. “I’m not your errand boy,” he snapped, trying to hide his nerves. It didn’t work. It never worked, with Silco. His eye gleamed, sinister like a nightmare brought to life.

“You remember Renni,” Silco said, and Marcus nodded. It was hard to just forget one of the chembarons, with her strange tubes and mechanical nose.

“She’s a problem,” Marcus growled. “If she keeps pushing her luck, I won’t be able to cover for her much longer,” he warned. It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

“How convenient,” Silco commented coolly. He leaned forward, and Marcus couldn’t have been less prepared for what he said next. “I need you to take her out.”

And the gears kept turning.

Chapter Text

3 Years Later, Progress Day. Ep. 4

Caitlyn Kiramman was grounded by her boss. It was a strange situation that most people never found themselves in; usually that just meant you were fired. But, well… Caitlyn was a Kiramman. She knew full well that was the only reason she still had a job. She usually hated the way she was treated as the only daughter of the illustrious Kiramman family, but she had to admit it could be quite convenient.

Why was she grounded, you might ask? Because she was too good at her job. Well, Sheriff Marcus didn’t say it that way—he said she was “acting outside her jurisdiction” and “committing serious security violations”, along with a litany of other charges that could probably land her in Stillwater for life if her mother weren’t on the Council. What Caitlyn heard, though, was that she was being punished for her competence. She was in a foul mood despite the festive atmosphere, stuck guarding her mother’s tent as Cassandra paraded Jayce around, showing him off. Caitlyn felt like a decoration.

Stewing in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Jayce as he escaped Cassandra’s showboating and approached her from behind, until he flicked her hat over her eyes. She scowled, spinning and twisting Jayce’s arm down in retaliation, but secretly she was glad for the distraction. Jayce was one of the only people in her life that treated her like a real person, with no expectations.

She smirked as Jayce hissed, complaining as his surprise was thrown back in his face. He chuckled when she let go, rubbing his wrist. “I’m on duty,” she said curtly, but she knew Jayce would ignore the cold tone until she actually told him to leave. He was persistent like that.

“Oh yes, so much crime to thwart around here,” he snickered sarcastically. “You look very busy.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, bad mood returning, and she turned back toward the street with a huff. “I don’t even know what strings my mother had to pull to put me here,” she said bitterly. Jayce chuckled at her, and her temper flared.

“Your mother, huh? Because this has nothing to do with a certain investigation that you’re not a part of,” he teased. “I’m sure you’ve been very obedient, and haven’t done anything to be punished for.”

Her face flushed, and she didn’t respond. She would continue to blame her mother.

“Hey, at least you’ll be here for the presentation,” Jayce offered. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.

“You’re presenting again? What, are they running out of scientists?”

“Oh, ha ha. Heimerdinger actually wanted me to give the speech, you know.” He puffed up his chest, a self-satisfied look on his face that looked so natural, Caitlyn couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Believe it or not, the rest of the Council… wasn’t too thrilled with that idea.”

Oh, Caitlyn believed it alright. She’d heard all too much about Jayce’s attitude with the council from her mother, and she knew that relationship was… strained, to say the least. “So who is giving the speech? Will it be Professor Heimerdinger again?” she asked.

A strange look crossed his face, like he wanted to be excited but was stuck feeling anxious instead. “Actually, he hosted a competition for it,” he said with a laugh, scratching his head. “Sort of like those innovator’s competitions Viktor and I did, but he’s the only judge.”

“And?” Caitlyn prodded after waiting a moment for him to continue. “Who won?”

“It was an up-and-coming inventor from the Undercity actually,” Jayce said. His pinched expression faded into an amused smirk. “The council threw a fit, but Heimerdinger wouldn’t budge. His name is Finn—have you heard of him?”

Caitlyn’s jaw dropped. “Finn is giving the Progress Day address? And he didn’t tell me?”

Jayce paused, blinking at her. “You know him?” he said, surprised. “I met him once, and…” He grimaced. “I don’t know. What’s he like?”

Caitlyn made a face. “He’s… well, there’s a lot to say. I don’t know how he managed to make it onto the guest list for the galas and conventions that my mother drags me to, but that’s where I met him. I thought, being from the undercity, he might be able to help me with my investigation.”

“Ah, the great conspiracy,” Jayce said knowingly. Caitlyn bristled.

“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s—”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he interrupted, holding up his hands. “I’m sure you’re onto something. I just think if you’re looking for corruption, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“And you call my investigation a conspiracy,” she grumbled. Jayce’s smile tightened, and she regretted saying anything. They’d had this conversation before, and while she still thought he was wrong about his claims regarding the Council, she knew how it felt to be ignored and dismissed.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “Finn couldn’t help me with my… project, but he has been helpful in understanding the people who live in the Undercity. And he’s much more entertaining than anyone else at those stupid parties—he’s got a certain flair for the dramatic. I suppose we might be friends, although he’s a bit… strange, about some things.”

Jayce chuckled. “If he wasn’t a little bit strange, he wouldn’t have caught Heimerdinger’s attention,” he pointed out. Caitlyn hummed in agreement, raising an eyebrow. If he and Viktor were any indication, that was an understatement.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised; now that she was looking, it seemed like Finn’s face was everywhere. Not as much as Jayce’s, of course, but certainly in second place. Bright yellow novelty jackets dotted the crowd, all heavily studded and some even bearing a black stylized F on the back. Booths advertized temporary tattoos and golden accessories for the lower jaw. One vendor was selling prints, t-shirts, mugs, and even small plushies of Finn’s likeness, from various angles. Customers were lined up down the street.

Caitlyn sent Jayce a sideways look. Jayce had at first seemed oblivious to the attention, but recently he was more critical. He called it “commercializing” him, and he said it turned him from a person to a symbol of something he’d never asked to be. Finn, on the other hand, was probably smug as a cat seeing his own face everywhere he turned.

Caitlyn brought her attention back to Jayce. “So after the speech, what will you be presenting?” she asked him. His eyes lit up, but he mimed zipping his mouth closed.

“Something revolutionary,” he promised. “You’ll have to wait to see, just like everyone else, Miss Kiramman.” He tapped her shoulder playfully, and Caitlyn nearly groaned. He knew she hated that Miss Kiramman shit.

“Try not to fall off the stage,” she said instead of wishing him luck.

“Have fun herding the drunkards,” he shot back. She made a face at him before returning to her position, and he returned to his adoring crowd. She buckled in for a long, boring day.

[]

Ekko slowly drifted forward on his hoverboard, his hand tight around the metal pipe he used as a weapon. His mask and jacket concealed his identity, and six Firelights lurked behind him, awaiting his order. Everyone was armed with crystal bombs, and their usual spears and staffs had been upgraded by Jinx to stun their opponents each time they hit. He clenched his jaw—he didn’t want to do this, but it wasn’t the time for second-guessing. He’d been forced into a corner, despite all the things that were going right, and he was running out of options.

He had to do something about the hexgates. He’d already looked into every other option he could think of, and even with the huge success he’d seen with Finn, barely any of the money was making it back to him and Silco. Ekko’s projects were getting more and more expensive and, with Shimmer phasing out, they were making less and less money. The smuggling enterprise that was supposed to replace Shimmer’s revenue was floundering—thanks to the hexgates, of course—and if he didn’t fix it somehow, Silco would turn back to what had worked in the past. Ekko couldn’t let Shimmer back onto the streets, he couldn’t.

So, with his ideas run dry, he’d turned to Jinx. The plan she’d concocted felt too close to terrorism for his tastes, but she promised him it would work. Just for him, she’d worked out something that didn’t involve any killing—even though she insisted it would be more efficient with a body count. At this point, though, he was pretty sure her whimsical disregard for life was at least partially an act. 

Silco knew how to use fear as a weapon, wielding like a surgeon’s scalpel, and he’d taught Jinx to do the same. Although, in typical Jinx fashion, she preferred to wield it with all the subtlety of a grenade—the persona of Jinx that she’d created carried a visceral kind of fear that even Silco couldn’t command. People feared her and revered her like she was a force of nature, bringing favorable winds and deadly storms without rhyme or reason. She was chaos incarnate, beautiful in equal parts creation and destruction.

He was jolted back to reality by Eve punching his shoulder. “Focus, loverboy,” she hissed at him as he wavered then rebalanced on his board. “This is not the time!” Her voice was low and warped through the modulator, jarring against the lighthearted teasing.

“I am focused,” he protested, blatantly lying. “Teasing me about Jinx every time I try to think isn’t helpful!” 

She scoffed at him. “Focused, my ass,” she sneered. “You were grinning like a dope.”

“I’m wearing a mask,” he replied dryly.

“That’s not a denial.”

“Focus, Eve,” he reminded her. She was right—he couldn’t afford to be distracted, by this conversation or by Jinx, until this mission was over. The stakes were too high.

Eve fell silent, somehow sensing as he shifted gears. All of his people could do that, though he wasn’t sure exactly how. Jinx said it was like he was a different person when he had to step up and be a leader—she said that she would know.

After a few more minutes, the target drifted into view. It was a large Piltovan airship decorated in Noxian colors, full of illegal, under-the-table exports. Exports from Zaun, mostly, but somehow in the gilded hands of some Councilor. Ekko’s hand tightened. They just couldn’t help themselves, could they? Piltover had to steal everything from them, even their crime.

He waited, one hand up in a signal to hold, as the ship drifted into the check-in port. A guard walked aboard with a clipboard, but he didn’t check anything. As soon as a pouch of gold landed in his hand, the shipment was approved. Now. Ekko gave a sharp signal, and the Firelights burst into movement. This was the moment of no return; he was committed now. Green streaks of light erupted from the tunnels, and the crewmembers on the deck were frozen in panic. This had never happened to them before—this hadn’t happened to anyone in years, ever since the truce with Silco.

Grenades crystallized against the frantic Piltie merchants, practically frothing at the mouth from fear. A couple of the laborers charged with moving the heavy cargo were Zaunites, and they accepted their fate with resignation in their eyes. The Firelights’ reputation had only grown in the last three years, and few who knew of them bothered to put up a fight anymore. Ekko landed on the deck smoothly, hitting the button on his stopwatch. His eyes darted around, taking in unmarked wooden crates that he knew held experimental chemtech. Highly illegal in Piltover, and very dangerous. He needed to draw enough attention that this incident couldn’t be swept under the rug, and incite enough panic for the Council to take action. That would be very difficult without any deaths, but Jinx was already in position for part two of their plan. If all went well, they would be all over the headlines by tomorrow.

The Firelights smashed open the crates, taking the most valuable items and leaving the most damning. Ekko kept his sharp eyes on the crew and the dock, making sure they wouldn’t be overrun by Enforcers. His eye caught on one of the Zaunite crewmembers, glaring at him venomously. He had a tattoo on his neck, just barely peeking above his collar; the man struggled against his crystalline prison, exposing more of the tattoo, and Ekko’s blood ran cold. That was a Sludgerunner tattoo. This ship was Renni’s.

She’d gone to ground as the other chembarons slowly turned on her, from business deals gone sour or her attempting to encroach on their territory. Most of that was meticulously set up by Silco, of course. Silco had then given his pet enforcer the green light to move in on her and her gang, although the only person who ever seemed to make any progress was now suspended from duty. It seemed the rogue chembaron managed to buddy up with a fucking councilor— maybe it wasn’t just the Enforcer’s incompetence that kept her out of Stillwater for the last couple years.

Regardless, this was dire information. Ekko and the Firelights had worked as indirectly as possible with the Enforcers—and Janna, just the thought still put a bad taste in his mouth—to shut down every bit of Renni’s child experiment operation that they could. That didn’t stop the experiments, though, just moved them to adult subjects, and last Ekko had seen, she was dangerously close to finishing those chemtank suits.

“Firelights!” he barked. “Start the fires and let's move!”

He didn’t have time to explain, but his people responded immediately anyway. They trusted him to have good reason for his orders. Eve, next to the trap door to the cargo hold, hurriedly finished painting one of Jinx’s monkey insignias before pulling out a molotov. It was, of course, heavily stylized in Jinx fashion, but in essence, it would start a hell of a fire. She threw it toward a clear area of the deck, and then everything seemed to slow down.

Behind Eve, the wooden deck splintered and cracked. Ekko heard it before he saw it, chips of wood splintering and flying into the air. An arm emerged, covered in machinery and ending with a blade. It traveled straight up as if in slow motion, even though Ekko knew it was actually a sudden explosion of movement. The wood buckled, then, planks snapping like toothpicks as a large helmet followed, looking halfway between a scuba suit and a casket. The man inside was lost to the Shimmer filling the suit, his eyes wild and his face twitching. He landed on the deck before Eve could even react to the sound—he swung one bladed arm, and Ekko saw blood.

It all happened in an instant that felt like an eternity.

Fire roared to life between them. Ekko heard himself scream something, sprinting toward Eve, but a second suited thug crashed through the deck in front of him. He was blurringly fast, and Ekko could barely bring his pipe up to block the flurry of swings. His stopwatch went off; the crystal encasing the crew was cracking. Smoke climbed into the sky as the fire grew, and alarms blared through Piltover. Enforcers would be here soon.

Ekko couldn’t see Eve anymore, but the first chemtank thug lunged through the fire, joining the fight against him. The only reason he didn’t get run through was Scar, slamming his spear into the side of one and delivering a powerful shock straight to their core. Ekko took the opportunity to dance backward, leaping over the edge of the airship and onto his hoverboard. He whirled back around to where he last saw Eve, but she was gone. He grit his teeth. Why was it always Eve?

This time, Jinx wasn’t on board to save his friend’s life. Still, there was nothing else he could do, and he trusted Eve’s ability to make it out of impossible situations. Those were the two biggest lessons he’d let himself learn from Silco: trust your people, and learn to see your own limits. He had to leave.

Ekko hovered there for several more moments, his hands flexing. He had learned those lessons. He knew he should leave, and trust Eve to survive. But if Scar hadn’t shown up and put a hand on his shoulder, Ekko knew he still would have thrown everything aside and dove back in.

Still the Boy Savior, huh? Jinx’s voice mocked him in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the few tears that escaped behind his mask. Was he learning and growing? Or was he starting to forget himself?

[]

As soon as she’d seen the smoke, Caitlyn had abandoned her post at the Progress Day festival. Jayce had been right—the only thing for her to do there was herd drunkards, and that was not what she’d dedicated her life to. She wanted to make a real difference, and if she wasn’t allowed to do so, she would stop asking for permission. Jayce told her that’s what his partner Viktor had said, the night they changed the world.

She walked purposefully, her Enforcer’s uniform ensuring no one asked questions as she approached the cordoned-off area. An airship that she recognized as one of Hoskel’s sat at the port, charred from a fire that had just been extinguished. A frown crossed her lips as she carefully boarded, making sure not to put her weight on any burned planks. The first thing she found was a shipping certificate, stamped with an approval. There were no details on what was being shipped—that was a severe breach of protocol.

Clusters of orange-tinted crystals, brittle and easily broken, dotted the deck. The remains of several shattered crates were strewn about, along with the occasional piece of machinery that she recognized as Undercity design. Specifically, she recognized them from the case she’d just been suspended from, the investigation of Renni the chembaron. Her frown deepened.

There were two enormous holes in the deck, and as Caitlyn’s eyes scanned them, she could envision some version of the events. Someone, or something, bursting straight through the floor. Marks on the railings and deck around the holes, like the scoring from someone swinging a blade… or claws. She remembered the report on Grayson’s death, an unidentified beast with unprecedented strength that had torn her apart. The kind of strength that could launch someone straight up through the deck of an airship. A chill went down her spine. Blood was splattered next to one hole, with a smear and a footprint headed straight to the edge of the ship. But, there were a few more droplets headed for the hatch—someone smart might have left that footprint intentionally, misleading pursuers to think they had jumped.

Then, right next to the trap door, was a symbol she recognized. Not directly connected to the Renni case, but prevalent in the Undercity. It was a messy scrawl of a stylized monkey head, the paint dripping and adding to the crazed and violent message it seemed to convey. Caitlyn took a picture, and opened the trap door.

Belowdecks she found even more pieces of Undercity tech, even more explicitly illegal. She took pictures of the worst of it, stepping carefully through the ash. More droplets of blood, small and easily missed in the chaos, seemed to confirm Caitlyn’s theory. Someone was down here—or had been, at some point. If the amount of blood on the deck was any indication, they needed help. Her flashlight swept across the open space, revealing no lurking stowaways, injured or not. Cait’s eyes tracked the blood drops to the edge of a grate.

Stepping to the edge, she looked down. She gasped, nearly dropping her flashlight—below was a woman with pink hair and a mask, clutching her stomach and breathing raggedly. She appeared half-delirious, not even noticing as Caitlyn’s flashlight beam found her. Caitlyn moved the grate and dropped down, approaching carefully.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, ready to run if the injured woman tried to lash out. “What happened?”

The woman finally seemed to notice her, flinching away. “Doing just peachy, thanks,” she snapped, her voice warped and altered through her mask. She hissed, clutching tighter to her wound.

“I’m here to help,” Caitlyn promised. She rummaged in one of her pouches, pulling out a standard Enforcer medical kit. She held it up, as if it were proof. The other woman just stared for a moment, taking her time to respond.

“You an Enforcer?” she said, but it wasn’t really a question as she gestured to Caitlyn’s uniform.

“Yes!” Caitlyn said, taking the chance to come closer. She fell to her knees at the woman’s side. “Yes, I am. I can help you, I promise.”

The woman slowly held out one trembling hand—Caitlyn reached for it, unsure if she was going to give her something or just needed comfort. The woman flipped her hand around and gave her a bloody middle finger. “Go fuck yourself,” she said in a pained snarl.

Caitlyn recoiled, but decided that wouldn’t deter her. She wasn’t only here to help those who liked her, after all. Besides, this woman obviously didn’t have the strength to hurt her even if she wanted to. She set her jaw, and leaned in to take off the mask. The girl tried to bat her hand away, but again, had hardly any strength left.

“I need to check for head injuries,” Caitlyn said brusquely, although she did feel a bit guilty for breaching her privacy. With the mask off, she saw the girl was around her age—perhaps a bit younger. Caitlyn’s heart clenched.

“If I had a cog for every time a girl with blue hair gave me unwanted first aid,” the girl grumbled as Caitlyn checked her pupil dilation, breathing, and pulse. Cait’s eyebrows furrowed, but the other girl didn’t elaborate.

“You’re stable, but you need medical attention soon if you want to stay that way,” Caitlyn pronounced after a moment more of checking her injuries. “I can get that for you, but I need you to work with me.”

“You’re not about to leverage that medical attention to get answers out of me, are you?” the girl said, giving her a glare. “Because it won’t work.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “What? No! I just—” She just needed to ask her questions before they went to the hospital, because as soon as that happened, Marcus would shut her out. But, she could easily see how it might look to the girl if she started interrogating her now. Caitlyn groaned, her mind racing, but the sound of footsteps behind her spelled her doom.

“Officer Kiramman,” said Sheriff Marcus, his words clipped with barely-contained irritation. “Why am I not surprised?”

[]

Jinx was practically skipping her way through the busy streets, her head whipping back and forth as she took in the sights of Progress Day. This was the first time she’d ever been to the festival, and she could see why the Pilties liked it so much! She attracted a lot of eyes, but she’d always done that—she ignored them. Besides, with Finn’s face all over the damn place, it seemed like Zaunite fashion was making its Piltie debut. Jinx wasn’t as out of place as she could have been, all things considered. She did feel weird without her belts lined with grenades and guns, even though she had her Zapper and a few chompers in the bag at her side. She felt naked; maybe that was why everyone was staring.

She felt like she had after first getting her tattoo, with Ekko’s eyes completely unable to look away for more than ten seconds at a time. Only, she wasn’t enjoying this attention as much as she had back then.

Speaking of Ekko, the smoke had faded from the sky in the direction of the hexgates. He’d done his part, and now it was time for Jinx to do hers. She quickly spun on her heel and ducked into a stall when she saw Marcus marching down the street, a sour look on his face as he chewed out a young, pretty Enforcer with dark, navy blue hair. She thanked whoever that was for distracting Marcus enough to miss the bright blue, five-foot braids in the crowd. It would be embarrassing if she got caught before even making it to the big speech.

She had hours before her task, and lots to set up before then. She flitted through the festivities, admiring the new inventions in between her tasks. First, a hard hat and a ladder, along with a bucket of cleaning supplies, let her slip into the auditorium without anyone batting an eye. She meticulously painted her favorite symbol onto the curtains, using a transparent paint she’d crafted with Ekko. It was laced with kerosene. It took barely any effort after that to rig the chain assembly with a piece of flint, and then she was off.

Next, after stashing her cleaner’s disguise behind the building, she headed back to the airship port. As they’d predicted, one airship being raided and burned wasn’t enough to shut down the bustling trade. Not when there was so much money to be made on Progress Day. The one dock was still blocked off with tape, Hoskel’s ship sitting charred and useless, and there was some activity that Jinx hadn’t expected. A few paramedics were wheeling someone into one of their fancy vans—she hoped no one had died. Ekko would get all mopey for weeks.

Jinx’s next disguise had been harder to procure. A full enforcer uniform, mask and all, with a custom’s officer badge—she told one of the officers he’d been granted leave for Progress Day, and it was all too easy to take his place. Damn, security was really lax in this place, wasn’t it? She supposed it had to be, if they were smuggling as much through here as Ekko said they were.

She strode confidently onto the deck of the next airship to arrive, belonging to one of the Councilors. She couldn’t remember his name—the blonde twink. The men aboard seemed taken aback by her full uniform with the mask, but after a glance at the smoldering remains of the other airship nearby, they didn’t question it. 

Jinx pocketed the money they gave her, stamped the paper as approved, and subtly stowed a homemade device among the cargo during her “safety check”. She ditched the uniform after that, feeling like she needed a shower to get all the Enforcer ick off of her skin.

A short time and a planted firework later, and she was at the entrance to the Progress Day speech. Ironically, this was proving to be the most difficult part; this event had a rather exclusive guest list, apparently, and not just anyone could attend. She was trying to convince the guy at the door that she was related to someone on the inside.

“Well he’s from the Undercity, but he’s a real smarty pants,” she tried, hands on her hips as she acted affronted. “He worked hard to get here, you know.” She was trying to imply a relation to Finn, even though the idea was laughable. But she knew he was giving the speech, obviously. He’d used Jinx’s and Ekko’s invention to win the damn contest.

The guard sighed. He had a face that was kind of blocky but kind of lumpy, with a strange mix of a square jaw and round cheeks. “Listen, I don’t care who your brother is. If you ain’t on the guest list—”

“Wait,” interrupted a woman’s voice. Both Jinx and the guard turned to find the young, pretty Enforcer from before—the one who was getting yelled at by Marcus. “Is your brother Viktor, by any chance?”

Jinx blinked. What were the chances there were two Undercity scientists named Viktor that lived topside? “Uh, yeah. You know him?” she asked, rolling with it. Way better than people thinking she was related to Finn.

“Of course! I’m sure he’d be ecstatic to see you,” the Enforcer said. She had the most posh accent Jinx had ever heard, and she barely kept herself from rolling her eyes.

Instead, she nodded eagerly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him,” she said wistfully, laying it on thick. “I’m real proud, knowing what he’s done up here.”

Except she had no idea what he’d actually been doing up here, and she was realizing her friend from the bridge might be a bigger deal than she thought. Had ole Vicky been holding out on her? Who was he, really?

The woman enforcer glared at the other guard, making him heave an even bigger sigh. “It’s only one girl,” the woman pressed. “And you know Jayce will be furious if he finds out you turned away Viktor’s sister.”

“Whatever,” the guy grumbled. “Do whatever you want. As always, Kiramman. ” 

Jinx went stiff. Luckily, the Enforcer—who was a Kiramman, apparently—seemed even more affected by the name-drop than Jinx was.

“Come on,” the woman said, her voice taught. Jinx gave the guard a smile that might have come across as gloating before following her. But, now she had even more questions. How did a Kiramman—the sole heir of the Kiramman family, no less—know Viktor by name?

The woman slowed, allowing Jinx to catch up to her side. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, sounding genuinely regretful. “He can be a bit of a pompous ass, sometimes.”

“Ah, no worries,” Jinx said, suppressing the urge to point out that all Enforcers were pompous asses. Shitheads, too. “Thanks for helping a girl out.”

“Of course,” the Enforcer replied. She had a small smile on her face, and Jinx felt a kind of hopefulness from her body language. “My name is Caitlyn, by the way. What’s yours?”

Jinx side-eyed her. What was her game? “Vicky just calls me Blue. You can too, I guess.” As she said it, she remembered that, in fact, Viktor didn’t know her real name. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, feeling betrayed that he hadn’t told her things. 

Instead of looking suspicious at the non-answer, Caitlyn looked quietly excited. A few things clicked into place, and Jinx felt her heart sink. The way the other guard had called her Kiramman, like he was branding her as different. The way Marcus had been berating her, but clearly too afraid to punish her. The way she liked Jinx’s complete lack of respect or etiquette, and the way she lit up when she was told to call her by a nickname. This girl wanted a friend.

Jinx reminded herself that this was Caitlyn Kiramman, the daughter of a Councilwoman and one of the most privileged people in all of Piltover—and an Enforcer on top of that. But, even with everything she hated about who Caitlyn was and what she represented, Jinx struggled not to empathize with loneliness. 

Before she had to think about it too much, Caitlyn was leading her backstage. There, standing next to the stairs and leaning heavily on a crutch—he’d needed to upgrade from his old cane, apparently—was Viktor. He turned toward them expectantly, but whatever he expected, it wasn’t Jinx. He froze at the sight of her.

“You’ll have to take a regular seat for the presentation,” Caitlyn was saying, “but I figured I could let you say hello before it began.”

“Blue?” Viktor said in surprise before covering a cough with his handkerchief. Jinx frowned. It was getting worse—that explained why he wasn’t making it down to the bridge so often anymore. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to watch!” she replied innocently. She gave him the kind of look that only Zaunite folks knew, the one they used when Enforcers were staring them down. His gaze flickered to Caitlyn, and even though Jinx couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he decided to cover for her.

“It is good to see you,” he said with that small smile of his. She offered him a smile in return. “I’m glad you can see our presentation,” he said, and there was something in his voice that hinted at something significant. Jinx blinked. Our presentation?

The only person presenting today, other than Finn, was Jayce Talis. The Man of Progress. Was Viktor implying…? Her eyes widened, but before she could respond, she was shepherded back into the audience. Somehow, she ended up with a front-row seat. She would really rather that not be the case, but when the only reason she could get in was because of a goddamn Kirraman, apparently only the very best would suffice. The woman to her right was a kindly older lady, with greying hair and two metal fingers. To her right… Was that Councilor Heimerdinger?

The lights dimmed, and murmuring filled the hall as Finn took the stage. He lifted one hand dramatically, greeting the crowd with an ego only he seemed to possess. Half the crowd clapped politely, but the other half went feral. People screamed his name, and the guy directly behind Jinx seemed to be trying to climb over her to reach the stage. She elbowed him sharply, right where she knew it would hurt. He collapsed back into his chair with an agonized grunt, and Jinx nodded to herself in satisfaction.

“What a privilege it is, to be in front of you all tonight,” Finn began after he reached the microphone. “I would have never imagined that a man like me would get this chance. Thank you, Councilor Heimerdinger, and thank the rest of you for being here.”

It was a classic move, buttering up the audience like they were somehow responsible for his success. It worked like a charm, even the skeptics beginning to nod, smile, and clap genially. How amazing is our City of Progress, for even a lowly trencher to reach success! How amazing are we, to give him that opportunity! Jinx practically gagged.

“Now, I’m sure you are all excited to see what the Man of Progress has to show you, so I will get straight to the point. I only ask that you spare me a part of your attention—it might not be hextech, but I promise what I am about to show you is worth your time,” he said. 

He reached into his jacket, still worn over his shoulders like a cape, and withdrew a circular device the size of his palm, glowing green. “This is what I call the zero-loss chemical energy cell,” he announced, presenting it with the kind of flourish few could manage without looking ridiculous. Well, Jinx still thought he looked ridiculous, but the Pilties were eating it up. 

“It is easily integrated into any existing chemtech, and can last years on a single charge. What I hold in my hand has the potential to power this building for nearly three months without maintenance or needing a refill. This is the next chapter of chemtech, and it can fit in your pocket.”

Several people, seated at the front with Jinx, had looked rather bored as he began. Now, though, they sat forward, murmuring to each other with interest. What Finn didn’t say is that each and every one of them was tamper-resistant, made so by Jinx herself, and they would self-destruct if anyone tried to take them apart. They were also entirely owned by Silco, down to the last patent, and those patents were not for sale. Zaun had a monopoly on these new devices, and it would not be giving that up.

Finn bowed, the applause even more enthusiastic, before Jayce Talis himself appeared at the stairs. Jayce clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder, preventing him from making his exit as the cheers swelled. He smiled broadly, waving, and it honestly sickened Jinx just how perfect of a poster-boy he was. Did he know that his smile looked like propaganda?

“Thank you, Finn,” Jayce said loudly, talking over the applause when it refused to die down. “I’m excited to collaborate more and more with scientists from the Undercity. There is so much talent in our sister city, right next door and yet completely unrecognized.” The crowd finally went quiet enough for him to talk at a normal volume. “This is an exciting step in chemtech, and it’s being taken hand in hand with the step that we’re taking with hextech.”

Jinx leaned forward inadvertently, her attention hooked. She almost regretted that he wouldn’t be able to finish his presentation.

“How many of you have gotten to experience the wonder of the hexgates?” Jayce said, and Jinx was stopped short in her thoughts. Where was he going with this? “They have brought previously unimaginable prosperity to this city, the City of Progress, and yet for most of you, the only difference is the speed of your mail. The hexgates have been open to the world for nearly three years now, and yet, they have failed to change the lives of the common man.”

Jinx sat back in her chair and blew out a long breath, flabbergasted. Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress, was currently shitting on his own hexgates during the biggest speech of the year. Was she dreaming? The audience was dead quiet now. Confused. Jinx saw Jayce make eye contact with Councilor Heimerdinger, and then with Councilor Medarda. His eyes were hard, challenging. Not at all like he was presented, with his smiling face plastered across a fucking airship.

“My mentor, Professor Heimerdinger, has advised me that what I’m about to show you is not yet ready for the public. I believe he’s right—we need to be sure it is safeguarded against misuse, and against accidents. However, I still want the world to see the direction we’re taking, and the strides we’ve made,” he said.

“No one expected anything from me. I’m from a minor house, with no great reputation. But my father put hammers into the hands of the people, and they built this great city. I plan to put magic in their hands—imagine what we can create!” Jayce stepped out from behind the podium, gesturing back toward Finn, still on stage. “Finn just showed you what amazing things can come from giving proper resources to gifted minds. With his advancements in chemtech combined with hextech, we are stepping into a new era. An era where our progress can be shared, and no one is starving on our gleaming streets.”

Jayce kept talking, but Jinx’s ears were buzzing, scratches invading her vision. This was horrible. It was wonderful, but absolutely horrible. It would ruin their message! Stupid Jayce fucking Talis, ruining everything! She couldn’t follow through on her plans after a speech like that, it would ruin all the progress they’d made! Her foot tapped anxiously, and she picked painfully at her nails. What should she do? She felt an episode coming, whispers in her ears that were slowly growing louder. They were less common these days, and she felt paralyzed in the face of those familiar demons.

She saw, in the shadows, Viktor with his hands on the rope. He looked excited, pleased with what he’d accomplished, as he readied himself to pull back the curtain at Jayce’s signal. The curtain that was rigged to burn, creating the chaos that Jinx would need to steal Jayce’s presentation piece. Viktor’s presentation piece, she was realizing. Her mind kept making up scenarios, worse and worse as time slowed to a crawl.

Viktor would hate her. She didn’t care what he thought anyway, she barely knew him. So why did the thought hurt?

Ekko would know. He was too smart not to—he’d realize their plan, Jinx’s plan, had done the opposite of what they wanted. Just like he’d said, it would feel like a senseless attack. It would ruin Ekko’s plans, his hopes for Zaun, and waste an opportunity. He would look at her in that way he did, when he knew it was her fault but didn’t blame her because he was stupid. What was she going to tell Ekko?

Silco would finally leave her. She thought this would be her chance to prove that she could help— she only wanted to help— and that she cared about his dreams. She could prove that Sevika was wrong, she was good for Silco’s cause. Silco would always choose Zaun. He would leave her, if she was bad for Zaun.

“I present to you, hextech for the hands of the people,” Jayce said, spreading his arms wide. “The hextech gemstone.”

Viktor pulled the rope.

Chapter Text

Nothing happened. For half a moment, Jinx thought she’d made some kind of mistake in rigging the flint, and she felt a strange mix of relief and devastation. Then reality hit her, and she remembered who she was. She was Jinx, not Powder, and Jinx didn’t build things that didn’t work. Viktor’s rope had simply gotten briefly stuck in the pulley system—with a sharp tug, it came loose.

Jinx’s panic dissipated, leaving her in a strange dissociative limbo as she watched the sparks fly. It was beautiful—to her, at least. The shower of sparks fell down onto the curtain, most fizzling out harmlessly. But a few of them landed on the flammable paint she’d used, and bright, colorful fire blazed along the pattern she’d painted. Her symbol, the monkey head, grinned down at the audience with smoldering x’s for eyes as they began to scream. 

Her body moved on autopilot as she pulled a small remote from her pocket and hit the button. The firework she’d planted, right outside the hexgate, launched into the air at the same time as the bomb in Salo’s airship went off in the hangar. The firework was massive—one of her best—and the shape, in bright blue and pink, formed the same monkey symbol in the sky. Both explosions could be heard all the way from here, and the screaming crescendoed at the sound, the curtains still blazing.

Jinx felt the faint urge to roll her eyes—the fire wouldn’t kill anyone. It would go out as soon as the kerosene in the paint was gone, because the curtain was made with some kind of Piltie material that was fire resistant. She was supposed to be using this opportunity, the room full of panic, to sneak backstage and steal their secret project, but she found herself unable to move. She just sat, observing her plan play out exactly as intended, feeling nothing. She squashed any sense of triumph; she knew first-hand how triumph only worsened the weight of disappointment. 

Someone grabbed her arm, and Jinx realized with a strange kind of start that she was still standing in the middle of all this chaos. “Come on,” Caitlyn urged, tugging her to her feet. “You need to get to safety.”

Jinx glanced at the curtain. The fire had burned out, leaving the monkey face emblazoned in lines of blackened fabric. The room smelled of smoke, but there was no danger. “I’m fine,” Jinx said, pulling her arm out of Caitlyn’s grasp. “You should focus on calming the rich folk.”

Caitlyn’s eyes followed Jinx’s, and she relaxed marginally when she saw the fire was gone. “I’ll try,” Caitlyn said resolutely. She met Jinx’s eyes. “Stay safe, Blue.”

She disappeared into the crowd. Jinx pursed her lips. You’d hate me if you knew, she thought. They would all hate me, if they could see me for who I am.

She was a Jinx. She didn’t try to hide it—it was her name, for Janna’s sake. But somehow, people kept missing it. They kept making up another version of her to love, to believe in, and ignoring the truth. Everyone left when confronted by it, even Vi. The quiet part of her mind that reminded her about Silco, who accepted her at her lowest, and Ekko, who came back after everything, was easy to ignore.

A voice cut through the chaos, blaring through the speakers. Jinx jumped, spinning to see Jayce Talis back at the microphone. “The situation has been resolved,” he said, his voice exuding that confidence of his that always grated on Jinx’s nerves. Still, as the only person left at the front row, right next to the stage, she could see the way his hands trembled ever so slightly, knuckles white as he gripped the podium. Against her will, she felt a certain kinship to him—was he like her? No more than a liar, pretending to be strong? “There is no danger,” he continued. “I don’t know who orchestrated this display or why, but I’m not letting them stop the progress of hextech. Those who wish to leave, please make your way to the exit in an orderly fashion. For everyone else, my partner Viktor and I will continue our presentation.”

The panic abated, Jayce’s confidence seeming to seep into the crowd and quash the fear, but the damage was already done. Even as the majority made their way back to their seats, Jinx knew they wouldn’t overlook this. Maybe even without the added pressure of stealing the hextech, they would demand an investigation and be led straight to the hexgates. With some more work and a little bit of luck, the response would be a tightening of hexgate security. This would push smuggling back out of the hands of the councilors, and give Ekko the business he needed to fund his projects in healing Zaun.

Jinx felt a little better, until whispers in the dark and scratches over her vision reminded her that she didn’t get lucky. Her eyes darted back to where Viktor was standing; he looked dismayed, his eyes searching the crowd. Was he looking for her? Did he know? This moment was supposed to be one of triumph and pride for him, and Jinx had ruined it. She wondered how many years of work it had taken for him to give Zaun a moment of recognition on the stage of the Progress Day address itself. She wondered how much of that was wasted thanks to her.

She ducked her head and joined the trickle of people leaving the auditorium. She shouldn’t be here.

Looking back, she probably should have expected the Enforcers outside.

[]

Viktor’s heart sank as his eyes finally found a pair of blue braids, swaying as Blue made her exit. Internally, he cursed whoever had set all of this up. He didn’t think it had scared her away—however much the Pilties screamed, that was barely more than a prank in the Undercity—but obviously something had made her leave. He sighed in disappointment. He’d been surprised to see her there, but also excited. She was the primary inspiration for many of his projects, and had unknowingly helped him with some of the calculations for the filtration devices. He’d been elated at the chance to show her what he’d accomplished.

Not to mention, on any other Progress Day Jayce’s words would be on every headline for the next week—progress for everyone and healing for the Undercity, endorsed by the Man of Progress himself. Now, all anyone would talk about would be this attack. It was elaborate, flashy, yet no one had died; there had to be a message behind it, but Viktor couldn’t think about that right now. He checked behind the curtain, and miraculously, none of the hextech had been stolen. This could still be salvaged. Missing hextech would have undoubtedly led to hysteria.

Viktor opened the curtain, and Jayce began his presentation. He did admirably, distracting the audience from what had just happened with his demonstrations. He used the air filtration device, which took the form of a robotic canary—a tribute to the miners who had used birds to test air quality in the past—to clear the auditorium of any lingering smoke, aweing everyone who had stayed. He demonstrated how the water filter, able to be fitted over any pipe, could turn even the toxic waters of the Pilt clear and drinkable. They’d decided that the Atlas Gauntlets could wait to make their debut, especially after hearing some of Jinx’s stories about Vander. Viktor had heard of the Hound of the Underground, of course, but he hadn’t been aware of the devastation he could cause with just a pair of mining gauntlets. Not even hextech ones, at that.

Jayce showed off soil purification, specialty artificing tools, and even hinted at the hextech safety equipment currently in development. All Viktor could think was that he wished he could see Blue’s face as she saw it all. Would she be excited? Amazed? Eager? Viktor’s eyes fell to the floor. She’ll still get to see it, he told himself. Everyone in the Undercity would. Just not yet.

Hours later, Viktor was still thinking about his friend when he got a knock at his door. Confused at who would want to see him at this hour, it took him a moment to answer it. Heimerdinger and Jayce were the only people who knew where he lived and cared enough to visit, but both of them must be incredibly busy around now. Councilor Medarda was hosting a celebration, and both of them had obligations to be there. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Caitlyn Kiramman waiting for him.

She was still wearing her Enforcer’s uniform—even if he knew the girl, that fact alone made him tense up. Years living Topside hadn’t beaten out the fear of Enforcers quite as hard as living in the Trenches had beaten it into him. “Hello, officer,” he greeted as cordially as he could. “What do you need?”

Caitlyn blinked at his address, then seemed to start as she looked down, yanking off her cap. “Oh, I apologize, Viktor. I’m not here as an officer, just as a friend. I didn’t take the time to change.”

Viktor hadn’t realized they were friends. But, she was Jayce’s friend which he supposed was close enough. He stepped back and opened the door wider, inviting her in, but he still couldn’t fully relax. The uniform just didn’t let him.

“Thank you,” she said, barely sparing his apartment a glance. Her attention was on him, and she seemed worried. She hesitated before speaking, and he led her to a seat before sinking into another one facing her. “Have you seen Blue since the speech?” she asked.

Viktor blinked. That wasn’t what he’d expected. His first instinct was to lie and cover for her, which was practically basic courtesy between trenchers when talking to Enforcers. But Caitlyn said she wasn’t here as an Enforcer, he reminded himself.

“Has something happened?” he responded instead, choosing a non-answer.

“She was… apprehended by Enforcers when she tried to leave,” Caitlyn said with a sigh. “I’m sure she’ll be released soon; she hasn’t done anything, after all. But I saw her during the panic of the fire, and she looked… unwell. I’m worried. Has she had some kind of negative experience with fire in her past?”

Viktor’s hand, fiddling with his cane as he thought, suddenly clenched into a tight fist. His spine went rigid, sending waves of pain down his legs until he forced himself to relax. “She was what?” he hissed.

Caitlyn grimaced. “I would have helped her, but I was still inside at the time. She ignored me when I tried to speak to her afterward, as well.”

Viktor scoffed. “And this surprises you?” he asked. “That she would have hard feelings toward an Enforcer after being arrested for no cause?”

She shook her head, face pained. “That’s not the issue here. She won’t talk to me, and I’m worried about her. Could this fire have triggered some kind of trauma response? She was like a different person, Viktor.”

Viktor forced himself to think about the question. “I don’t know,” he said finally. Could that be why she had left?

“What do you mean?” Caitlyn asked. “She told me she was your sister; shouldn’t you know about something so traumatic?”

“She said that?” Viktor asked, surprised. Caitlyn nodded, and he felt a warmth in his chest. He was flattered. “I am an orphan with no family,” he explained, as Caitlyn looked faintly betrayed at what she perceived as a lie. “I suspect that she is the same. Family is a loose concept in the Undercity—I’m glad she can see me as a brother.”

Caitlyn nodded, looking both mollified and saddened. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult,” she said.

Viktor snorted. “Of course it was difficult. I got lucky when Heimerdinger found me—she must be very strong to get this far on her own.”

Caitlyn nodded, but didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her head tilted to the side. He shifted uncomfortably. “Is something wrong?” she asked after a moment.

Viktor let out a short, harsh laugh, shifting his weight again. “Yes, something is very wrong,” he said. “A girl I care for is—”

“That’s not what I mean. You’ve been tense ever since I’ve gotten here. Unusually so,” she said hesitantly. “Why is that?”

Viktor stayed silent for a moment, debating with himself, but he decided on honesty. Jayce had seen the truth and sided with him—it wasn’t impossible that Caitlyn might do the same.

“It’s the uniform,” he admitted. “I am… not fond of Enforcers.”

Caitlyn’s brow creased in confusion as she looked down at herself again. “I… can understand that,” she said, “but you know me. Not all of us need to be feared.”

Viktor couldn’t help himself from scoffing. “That doesn’t matter—there are enough of them. Have you paid attention at all to the way your comrades treat us? Have you heard the way they talk about the Undercity?” Caitlyn just looked away, biting her cheek. That was answer enough. “My distaste for Enforcers is the same that every trencher carries. They hate us, and we fear them. That fear festers, and turns to hate. Often, violence is the result.”

Caitlyn grimaced, looking both dejected and defensive. After all, Viktor was sure that she never committed such acts of violence against the people of the Undercity, despite the fear and the danger, and for that he was proud of her. He was even more proud when she suppressed her defensiveness—just because she didn’t contribute to the problem didn’t mean it was invalid. “It’s all a cycle,” she whispered. “It needs to stop—can’t the Undercity see that it’s hurting them?”

Viktor’s voice was harsher than intended when he responded. “Hate and fear drive the cycle of violence, Caitlyn. It is the responsibility of the oppressors to break that cycle— not the oppressed.”

She flinched, but nodded. “Perhaps we need to take the first step. Still, both sides must let go of their hate if there is to be peace.”

Viktor wanted to snap back at her with some kind of sharpened barb, but she was right. The Undercity had been oppressed, but they were still responsible for choosing violence. Many of those choices he agreed with, but a choice being understandable or “correct” didn’t mean that choice didn’t have consequences.

They talked for a few more minutes, mostly meaningless small talk, before Caitlyn had to leave. Viktor bid her goodbye and opened the door, only to freeze in place; Mel Medarda was outside, poised to knock. What…? He’d already known it was a bad night, but someone must have it out for him on a cosmic scale. Two visitors in one night, and they were an Enforcer and a Councilor?

Caitlyn said her goodbyes and exchanged a few polite words with Councilor Medarda, and then she was gone, leaving Viktor alone with the councilwoman. His mind was racing, full of questions without answers. Why was she here? Wasn’t her celebratory gala going on now? Jayce and Heimerdinger were both there, Viktor was relatively certain, so why wasn’t she? How did she even know where he lived?

“Hello, Viktor,” she greeted gracefully, her full lips curving into a smile that Viktor had seen charm entire rooms of people. He wasn’t immune to her beauty, but he was cynical enough not to let it fool him.

“Councilor Medarda,” he said coolly, nodding his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her smile twitched just a little bit further toward genuine at his response, which confused him. “Care to take a guess?” she asked, an amused note in her voice. “What could possibly bring me to your door at a time like this?”

Viktor hardly needed to think about it at all. It was the only reason he got any kind of attention from people like Medarda. “This is about Jayce, then?” he asked dully, one eyebrow raising. Her smile faded, and she nodded.

“Can we talk?” she asked him.

He wondered what she would do if he said no. Could he get away with simply closing the door right now? With a glance down the hallway, he could see that she had come alone, and considering the cloak and hood, he figured she was trying to stay unnoticed. She’d come to him in a way that left all of the power in his hands—there was no way for her to pressure him here. The gesture was surely deliberate, and Viktor appreciated it enough to indulge her.

“Of course,” he said, moving to the side and gesturing for her to come in.

Her eyes scanned his apartment much more thoroughly than Caitlyn had, taking in the size and clutter, but not in a judgmental way. He knew there was much to learn about a person from the way they kept their home, and Viktor felt oddly exposed as he led her to his sitting room. What was she learning about him now?

“So,” Viktor said after they were both seated, “you wanted to speak about Jayce.”

Medarda nodded curtly, accepting the complete skip over polite small talk. “He doesn’t trust me like he used to,” she stated. “I’ve spent years trying to find what I’d done to lose his trust and repair it, and I’ve found nothing. He’s become vocal about the abuse of money and power, but I’ve invested more of my profits back into this city than anyone save the Kirammans. He’s become passionate about the plight of the Undercity, but I know he’s smart enough to realize I haven’t contributed to that. I’ve only been in this city since I was sixteen—I’m hardly responsible for the generational disparity that has been festering here, and I am attempting to help. To put it plainly: why is he angry at me, and how can I reconcile with him?”

Viktor hummed to himself thoughtfully, then pulled himself back to his feet. “Tea?” he offered her. He needed a drink, and some time to think. She nodded, and he knew she saw right through his bid for time. She waited patiently as he hobbled about the kitchen, assembling his thoughts as he brought the kettle to a boil and brewed two cups of his favorite tea—a calming blend from Shurima. She received the cup he offered her graciously, and he took a sip from his own as he sank back into his seat.

“Perhaps I… overestimate my own importance,” he started, “but, I believe a part of it has to do with the fact that this is the first time you have ever spoken to me directly.”

Councilor Medarda blinked, taken aback, like she hadn’t realized that before now. Viktor could see her reviewing every past interaction in her head, and the moment she realized he was right. He was surprised when her cheeks actually colored slightly—he’d never seen her composure slip before. “I see,” she said, her head dipping. She didn’t apologize.

Viktor frowned and continued. “He also felt that none of you respected his dream beyond the profits it could make you. He dreams to change the world and improve lives, and yet all you have let him do is make the already wealthy even wealthier.”

“The hexgates have brought prosperity to all of Piltover,” she protested, her lips pulling ever so slightly into a frown of her own. “Infrastructure, culture, trade— everything has been bolstered.”

“So you say,” Viktor replied carefully. “And yet, you remain so disconnected. You, the rest of the Council, and the head of every major clan have seen profits skyrocket. Buildings and streets are nicer, raising the property value of homes. But have you raised the wages of your workers accordingly?”

Medarda hesitated. “I have,” she said, “but I do not have many in my employ. My revenue comes primarily from investments such as Jayce and yourself.”

Viktor shrugged. “Perhaps irrelevant to you, then. But, do you think Hoskel, Salo, or Clan Ferros have done so? I’ll give you the answer—they have not. So, despite the prodigious prosperity of Piltover, most of its citizens make the same wages in a nicer, more expensive world. This makes life harder, not better, Councilor.”

He continued before she could respond. “And what of the Undercity? You say you haven’t contributed to their poverty, but do you know where most of their revenue came from?” She shook her head wordlessly. “Shipping,” he answered. “Even when Piltover wouldn’t share its wealth, the Undercity made enough to scrape by because all of your shipping went through their docks. Those docks are now obsolete, thanks to the advent of the hexgates. Have you spared a thought for what they might turn to now? How they will continue to feed their families now that all of their money is in your pockets?”

“That’s not fair,” Medarda countered. “The hexgates have created just as many jobs as were lost, if not more—”

“Those jobs are not for trenchers anymore,” Viktor corrected. “I’ve been to the hexgates—I helped create them. I could count the number of Zaunites on one hand.”

Councilor Medarda’s brow furrowed. “Zaunites?” she asked.

Viktor winced. Blue was rubbing off on him. “Denizens of the Undercity—that’s what they call themselves,” he explained. Perhaps many people would dismiss it as harmless, but a Noxian would immediately see the danger of allowing the oppressed to forge their own identity. Her eyes narrowed. “Regardless—however much you argue, Councilor, the hexgates have made the Undercity poorer. I’d encourage you to go down and see for yourself, but I doubt you bothered to see it before the hexgates. You would lack any frame of reference.”

Viktor saw another thing he’d never seen from the woman before, as her fingers curled into fists around the fabric of her dress at the jab. She took a deep breath to center herself, unclenching her jaw. “Thank you, for your… insight,” she said finally, her voice tight, “but we are getting off topic. I have invested in the both of you, whether it was for the hexgates or not. He always understood before that I needed to see some results—one doesn’t sponsor a talented scientist and expect nothing in return. It’s not a matter of not believing in his dreams, it’s just business.”

Viktor leveled her with a heavy look. “Councilor, you are not stupid and neither am I,” he said sharply. “Do you honestly believe it was always just business to him?”

She hesitated, breaking eye contact. “Well…”

“He wanted more than that, and you knew it,” Viktor pressed. “You indulged him, used it to manipulate him. When he finally realized that, he was hurt. He thought that, despite the element of business, you were on his side in his mission to better the world. Now, he feels that you only ever wanted to use him to increase your power and influence—that you lied to him. Are you still confused about his animosity?”

Somewhere in the back of Viktor’s mind, he was shocked at his own boldness. But after seeing Jayce, even more bold in front of the entire Council, it wasn’t as intimidating. And now here was a woman that had played with his best friend’s feelings, played with his brother’s heart, acting like she’d done nothing wrong. He didn’t hate her, but she deserved the scathing tone of his voice. It was about time she faced the consequences of manipulating everyone around her.

Medarda hummed, avoiding his gaze. “I understand,” she said. “Then I suppose I’ll take my leave. Until next time, Viktor.”

He opened the door for her, and she was gone. He sighed, shaking his head. She didn’t understand. After all, she still never apologized.

[]

Several hours earlier.

Jayce Talis was quite proud of the little speech he’d just given. It was a little on-the-fly, but Finn’s speech had been quite a bit shorter than expected and had left Jayce with some time. Finn had a remarkable ability to read a room, and he’d somehow made the most of the attention he was given without giving anyone a chance to resent him for taking up the spotlight.

Most of his reservations on Finn had been from his sense of style—the guy literally had the word KILL tattooed across his chest—and from his rabid fans. Jayce was pleasantly surprised with his professional, yet somehow rebellious charm. He’d also given Jayce the perfect opportunity to publicly imply that hextech would be implemented in the Undercity, and he was doing wonders for putting the Undercity into the minds of the people. 

Hell, there was an Undercity girl in the front row of his speech! She was between his mother and Heimerdinger, and her eyes were wide as they slid from him to Viktor, standing ready to pull the curtain open. Jayce hoped his words felt real to her, and not like just another empty promise.

“I present to you, hextech for the hands of the people,” Jayce announced. He was several paces in front of his podium now, closer to the people he was talking to as he lifted his arms grandly. “The hextech gemstone.”

Viktor pulled the rope—it caught briefly, but with another tug, it came loose. Skye pulled the lever simultaneously, and a mechanical hum filled the stage as spotlights swiveled, pointing at the curtains—but the curtains didn’t pull open. Instead, Jayce heard something click, and a shower of sparks came down from the pulley assembly above. The sparks caught on the curtain as they fell, and lines of smoldering flame slowly grew until a large symbol of a monkey head blazed, glaring at the audience. 

Jayce backed away as people started to shriek, smoke beginning to fill up the hall—the sound of an explosion added to the chaos, and as he looked, he could see a large firework forming the same symbol in the sky through the glass ceiling. His brain was lagging behind the events as they happened, struggling to make sense of it all. Was Viktor okay? He whirled around, relieved to find his friend no worse for wear, holding a cloth over his mouth and nose to protect his lungs from the smoke.

“Mr. Talis!” someone called over the noise, and he turned to find an Enforcer giving him a sharp salute. “We’ve secured the perimeter, and confirmed there is no danger. Please remain calm,” the woman said, her voice clipped. Jayce looked over his shoulder and saw the fire on the curtain had gone out.

The biggest danger now was the panic. People were scrambling over each other to get to the exit, and Jayce could see Caitlyn doing her best to keep anyone from getting trampled. He set his jaw and went back to the microphone, ignoring the squawk of the Enforcer behind him.

“The situation has been resolved,” he announced, projecting every bit of confidence and calm he could muster. His hands tightened around the podium. “There is no danger,” he said, hoping he was right. “I don’t know who orchestrated this display or why, but I’m not letting them stop the progress of hextech. Those who wish to leave, please make your way to the exit in an orderly fashion. For everyone else, my partner Viktor and I will continue our presentation.”

He watched as his words forced their way into the ears of the panicking crowd, tension easing like a physical weight being lifted. It wasn’t silent—of course there wasn’t silence, in a situation like this—but no one was screaming anymore. A small trickle of people formed a line, slowly leaving the building, but most returned to their seats. The girl from the Undercity, he noticed with regret, was no longer sitting next to his mother. Hopefully, though, she would get to see what his and Viktor’s inventions did first-hand; a presentation was practically worthless, compared to that.

After the people were mostly seated again, Viktor slipped from behind the curtain and gave Jayce a thumbs-up. Jayce’s heart skipped a beat, fear and relief hitting him at the same time—he hadn’t even considered that the hexgems could be stolen, preoccupied as he was. Thank every god for Viktor and his ability to keep his cool.

Jayce took a deep breath, centering himself. This presentation had to be the best of his life—he couldn’t let anyone here dwell on what had just happened. His eyes caught on the canary, and he had just the idea for how to start.

He subtly shook the tension from his hands. Go time.

Jayce didn’t know how to feel about Mel Medarda. Now more than ever, as he stood before the Council the day after the Progress Day incident, he felt conflicted.

From the moment he’d met her, she’d been a mystery to him. First voting for his expulsion, then giving him and Viktor the chance they needed to prove themselves. Since then, she’d only given him support, whether it was financial or social or simple words of encouragement. He didn’t have many real friends, he’d admit—outside of Caitlyn and Viktor, all his relationships were professional. Mel had started to feel like one such friend, being by his side for so many years. That’s why it hurt in such a personal way when he realized—when Viktor made him realize—that he was only ever an investment to her.

He’d started asking questions after that letter, after that conversation. Not just to Mel but to all the Councilors, about what they saw in the future of hextech and why they’d decided to sponsor him after he was disgraced and abandoned. Some were honest, not bothering to hide their self interest, while others offered him pretty words about redemption and progress. Always progress. They were empty platitudes, and those who offered them had soon shown their true colors when Jayce had suggested that hextech could be used for something more meaningful, even if it was less profitable. 

Mel had been different. Jayce still didn’t know exactly what she wanted, and that worried him. She didn’t seem concerned with profits, but she wanted something. Jayce had begun to avoid her; her words were like poison, seeping into his brain, sweetened by that beautiful face and smile. By the time Jayce wrapped his head around their interactions, he always felt like a piece on her chessboard, maneuvered by a master of her craft. Whatever game she was playing, Jayce wasn’t allowed to know the rules.

He honestly wasn’t certain why he was at this meeting, as Sheriff Marcus debriefed the councilors on what had transpired at the speech and what they’d found since then. He didn’t have the authority to act on any of this information, and he didn’t have anything to add, but Mel—Councilor Medarda—had asked that he attend anyway.

“The same symbol was found on an airship that had been raided earlier that day—the ship was found to contain illegal goods from the Undercity,” Marcus was saying. His eyes were fixed on the wall, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. “When the firework went off, another ship went up in flames in the hexgates’ hangar. This ship was found to contain illegal imports from Noxus.”

Jayce noticed that Councilors Hoskel and Salo both seemed to shift uncomfortably as the Sheriff spoke. Councilor Medarda certainly seemed to notice as well, her sharp eyes not missing a thing.

Marcus continued. “We have no suspects as of yet, but I think this may be connected to the chembaron known as Renni. We—”

Hoskel interjected, slightly red in the face. “No suspects?” he blustered. “And what of the girl apprehended outside the presentation, attempting to flee? Is she not a suspect?”

Marcus shifted, his jaw twitching. He glanced at Jayce. “The circumstances around her apprehension were hardly suspicious,” Marcus said, his back still straight as a rod. “She seemed to be arrested solely because she was from the Undercity. She was carrying no dangerous or suspicious materials, and she exited the building with the rest of the attendees who decided to leave. If she were attempting to flee, I doubt she would use the front door.”

Jayce’s spine straightened. He must be talking about the girl he’d seen next to his mother—Caitlyn had told him she was Viktor’s sister, although Jayce hadn’t had a chance to ask his partner about her yet.

“Is that not cause enough?” Hoskel scoffed. “The first year we let one of them give the speech, the first time one of them sits among the audience, and this happens? Are you blind?”

“Excuse me?” Jayce blurted, incredulous. Councilor Medarda gave him a warning look, but he ignored it. “That girl is my partner’s sister, and she had every right to be there for him. And I’d remind you this was also the first time portable hextech had been presented in that building; a poor girl from the Trenches is far from the most likely culprit to be targeting it.”

“Well, I’d remind you that your opinion was not solicited,” Salo drawled, his voice lazy but scathing. “You’re not a Councilor, Mr. Talis.”

“Perhaps not,” Councilor Medarda cut in, her voice immediately demanding the attention from everyone in the room. “But his words still hold merit. We suspect the Undercity, but hextech has gained international renown—is it so difficult to believe that someone… unsavory might have realized its potential? Everyone covets this technology.”

A short silence overtook the council room. “This is exactly why I’m requesting higher security measures over the hexgates,” Marcus finally spoke up, his voice cool and professional. His hands clenched and unclenched behind his back, betraying his nerves, but Jayce didn’t know what he would be nervous about. “All hextech must be more carefully guarded, for the sake of our city’s safety.”

Multiple people responded with immediate outrage, most notably Salo and Hoskel, but Heimerdinger shut them down with a loud clearing of his throat. “Of course, I agree,” he said, his high voice deadly serious. “Magic is dangerous. Even though hextech has done more good already than I had previously imagined, I stay firm in my belief that it would be catastrophic in the wrong hands.” Councilor Bolbok was nodding in agreement.

“I second that,” Councilor Medarda agreed, nodding her head as well. Good Lord, how did she make such a simple motion look so graceful? “We must not stay idle. Sheriff, what do you recommend?”

Salo obviously wanted to speak, but Sheriff Marcus began anyway. Salo looked irate. “Thank you, Councilor,” he said with a nod to Mel. “I’ve found writs of approval for both ships that were attacked; the first action will be to purge the Enforcers of any officers taking bribes, and clean up our records. I’ve been meaning to make some changes to the force, and this could offer a good chance.”

“That is very troubling,” Councilor Shoola muttered. “This should have been done regardless.” Kiramman nodded sharply in agreement, her frown radiating disapproval.

“And Jayce?” Mel asked, turning to him. He made a noise of surprise, and her serene expression twitched briefly toward amusement. “As the only expert on hextech present, what would you suggest?”

Jayce hesitated. What would he suggest? But more importantly… “I’m not the only expert on hextech in this city,” he said, trying to stay professional. His frustration still leaked into his voice. “Viktor should be here.”

Mel— Councilor Medarda, he forcefully reminded himself, again—grimaced. Something like guilt flashed across her features. “We should seek his insight as well,” she agreed with half a nod of acknowledgment. “But for now, would you share your thoughts?”

Jayce huffed, crossing his arms. “We should shut down the hexgates—at least until the situation is resolved. Our other projects should be kept under lock and key in the lab.”

Predictably, there were loud objections. The only one that Jayce didn’t ignore was from Councilor Shoola.

“The hexgates must remain open,” she said. “Piltover’s status as a global shipping lane depends on it; thousands would lose their income.”

“They’re a security risk,” Jayce shot back. “And you were given responsibility over this city. I’m sure that collectively, the Council has the resources to help those workers stay afloat until they’re up and running again.”

Hoskel exclaimed something about wine and Noxians that Jayce couldn’t give less of a shit about. Kiramman murmured about the logistics of accomplishing something like that. Medarda regarded him thoughtfully, Heimerdinger was silently doing some calculations, and Bolbok was just shaking his head. Salo looked to be on the verge of frothing at the mouth.

“It appears we are at an impasse,” Mel said, raising one hand in that way she did that commanded attention and respect. “If we shut down the hexgates, the city will suffer. But if we do nothing, we leave ourselves vulnerable to malefactors. We could lose more than just money—we risk losing lives. Perhaps it is time we explore a more… radical solution.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes. She was doing it again—playing a game where only she could see the board. The question was, what did she want now?

[]

Silco glared at Ekko, and the boy had the nerve to glare right back. He’d never imagined that giving the Firelights so many chances, trying to replace shimmer with other sources of income, could possibly put Jinx in danger. If he’d seen this coming, he would have just killed them all before ever offering mercy.

The other Firelight, who had been charged with getting Jinx out of Piltover after her heist, was shaking in his boots as he gave his report.

“I—I’m not sure what happened, sir,” he stuttered, his voice cracking. “I was waiting outside, by the window, but she never showed. I saw her come out the front door with a bunch of Pilties, and she just—she just let the Enforcers arrest her. Didn’t even try to run.”

Silco’s hand tightened dangerously around his glass. He could deal with the Enforcers, as long as she wasn’t hurt. Marcus wouldn’t dare let anything happen to her. Still, the whole situation put a sour taste in his mouth.

“Get out,” he spat, “while I clean up your mess.” The trembling Firelight flinched and nodded before he fled. Ekko didn’t move. “Both of you,” Silco said acidly.

Ekko just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not leaving until you tell me how you’re getting Jinx back,” he said, his voice hard. The boy didn’t fear Silco nearly enough, these days. If he weren’t so angry, he might have felt proud. “If you won’t tell me your plan, I’ll make my own.”

“You are the reason I need to retrieve her in the first place,” Silco nearly snarled, his words slow and deliberate. “You will stay far from my efforts to get her back. I have enough obstacles as it is.”

“No, I won’t,” Ekko retorted, matching Silco’s intensity as he pushed himself forward, slamming his hands onto the desk. “It wasn’t my plan, it was Jinx’s. And it worked perfectly—I don’t know why she let herself get caught, but I’m not about to let the Pilties keep her. So are we going to work together on this, or are you going to get in my way?”

Silco was on his feet, tension lining his body, his teeth bared in a rare, genuine snarl. Ekko didn’t budge, planting himself solidly in Silco’s path and meeting his eyes, unwavering. Silco let out a long breath through his teeth, forcing himself back into his seat. He knew Ekko cared for his daughter—it was one of their main points of friction lately. If Marcus couldn’t deliver Jinx to him, the Firelights were likely his best bet in breaking her out.

“Fine,” he seethed. “I will contact Marcus. In the meantime, you will make a plan. Have it ready for me no later than tonight. Now, get out.”

Ekko nodded sharply, and he finally— finally —swept through the door. Silco massaged his temples, attempting to consolidate his thoughts and ease the headache, but he wasn’t left with much time. The door swung open again, and Sevika admitted Chross to his office, rolling over the boards in his wheelchair.

Silco sighed. “Make it quick,” he said. Chross grimaced.

“Bad news?” the chembaron guessed. Silco just nodded. He was exhausted.

“I have… more of that, unfortunately,” Chross said carefully. Silco’s headache intensified—he pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a long draw before motioning for the other man to continue. The pungent smoke didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. “I’ll start with an item of good news—I’ve finally found a mercenary willing to risk the Medarda’s wrath, and he has found information about the conflict that is brewing.”

Silco raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised but still braced for what would come next. “Who did you find?” he asked, curious.

“Ah… that is the start of the bad news, I’m afraid. The only person willing to take that kind of risk was a man who goes by the name of Malcolm Graves.”

Silco stilled. He knew that name. “I asked you to be subtle,” Silco ground out, letting out a puff of smoke. He let the accusation hang in the air, and Chross shifted his weight uneasily.

“His partner was… very convincing,” he tried. Silco let his head fall to rest on one of his hands, elbow braced on his desk.

“You let Twisted Fate fool you,” he said, his voice dull. “You gave this job to two bounty hunters so infamous, they top Piltover’s most wanted list without even living there.”

“They’re so infamous because of their great skill,” Chross defended. “As evidenced by their success.”

“And what did you learn?” Silco asked, trying to suppress his rising dread.

Chross cleared his throat, relieved to be reporting information again instead of defending himself. “Ambessa Medarda has gotten herself into a feud against the mage coven of Noxus. They were hunting her son, whom she now believes to be dead. She is now… she is now on her way to Piltover.”

Silco’s blood ran cold. The last thing Zaun needed was a warmongering Noxian presence while they strived for independence. “For her daughter?” Silco guessed.

Chross shrugged inconclusively. “Perhaps,” he said. “She also hopes to claim the power of hextech for herself, and weaponize it against the mages.”

“Magic against magic,” Silco murmured distantly, refusing to feel fear. He wouldn’t acknowledge it. “She wishes to even the odds.”

“It appears so,” Chross agreed, and he did a poorer job of masking his fear than Silco. 

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Silco said formally, setting his jaw. He needed to prepare. He needed to—

“There’s more,” Chross said. His voice was heavy, anxious. Silco’s eyes snapped to him with an intensity that made him shrink away, like he wished he could melt into the floor. He wheeled to the door and rapped on it sharply; it was opened by Sevika, who looked grim. She hauled in a figure bound hand and foot, with a rough sack over his head. He stumbled, struggling to keep his balance with ropes around his ankles, but Sevika kept him upright. 

“What is this?” Silco demanded sharply, a knot forming in his stomach. He couldn’t handle everything that was happening—not with Jinx gone. He needed her by his side; perhaps then he’d feel a semblance of control, of comfort. 

“If you recall, I said that Ambessa now believes her son to be dead. She… is mistaken. It appears our mercenaries were a bit over eager.” Chross’s voice shook, even as the man fought to keep it even.

The sack was pulled away, revealing a young man with strong, elegant features, dark skin, and a mess of curly black hair. He somehow looked regal even bound in rope and with his untamed beard, and his gaze was cool, calculating. Sevika removed the rope gagging his mouth, and he grimaced, working the soreness from his jaw and lips. Silco just stared silently.

The man smirked at him. “I humbly greet my new captors,” he said sarcastically, his voice rough from disuse but somehow smooth at the same time. “My name is Kino Medarda.”

Chapter Text

Eve’s return to consciousness was heralded by a spike of pain, and her hands flew to her torso as she groaned. She could feel stitches under her shirt, tight and professional. They ached—she remembered when Jinx had stitched up her leg, and the pain she’d been in for weeks every time she tried to walk. These were much much better done than Jinx’s stitches, but Eve still wished her enemy-turned-friend had done them instead. There was something inexplicable about the way these ones hurt, raw in a way that was clinical. Silly as it was, Eve imagined she could feel the lack of… something. Love, maybe? 

That sounded corny as hell. She imagined steady hands, masked faces, and the smell of chemical disinfectants that probably worked way better than cheap whiskey. She knew it likely wasn’t an accurate image—there was plenty of love and passion in the emergency clinic the Firelights had built, after all—but she still shuddered. 

A door opened to Eve’s left, and she nearly fell off her bunk as she suddenly registered the rest of the world, returning fully to wakefulness. The room was stone, just barely colder than what would be comfortable, and the small cot she was laid out on was padded with only a threadbare blanket and flattened excuse for a pillow. There was another bunk directly above her, and two more on the opposite wall.

“Aye, she lives!” joked the newcomer, a short, wiry woman with pale skin and straight black hair. She approached Eve’s cot, looking her over with her arms crossed over her chest. “We were wonderin’ when you’d be up. Been a full day since they dropped you off.”

Eve tried to sit up, but almost immediately abandoned the effort. She glanced around the room, then back at the woman. “Stillwater?” she guessed dully. The other girl nodded with a shrug.

“The very same,” she said. If Eve had to guess, she was a little less than a decade older than Eve herself, and she had a few pretty-looking tattoos peeking from her sleeves. “It’s not so bad as folks say, though. Leastways, not anymore. Make the right friends, don’t talk back, and you’ll get out in one piece after your sentence.”

Eve bit her lip. She didn’t even know what her sentence was—if she’d been given one, she wasn’t awake for it. She tried to focus on getting upright, slowly pushing herself into a painful sitting position. The black-haired woman didn’t offer to help, instead climbing into her own bunk and pulling out a small, worn book. Eve was surprised to see it, but didn’t comment.

Minutes later, as Eve was focusing on controlling her breathing, the other two women meandered into the room. The door locked soon after. One didn’t say a word, flopping into her bunk with a pensive expression—she had her dirt-brown hair pulled back into tight braids, and her arms were well-muscled—but the other brightened when she locked eyes with Eve, making a beeline for her cot and plopping down to sit next to her. This girl looked young—younger than Eve, but probably older than Jinx or Ekko. She had narrow features and curls of black hair that bounced when she moved.

“You’re awake!” she cheered, grinning brightly. “How are you feeling?”

Eve leaned back a little, put off by her attitude. Considering Eve’s friendship with Jinx, she should be used to high energy by now, but this felt different, somehow. More… shallow, if that made any sense, without the sharp edges and character that made Jinx who she was. “Uh… I’ve been better. A lot better,” she said cautiously.

“Well, I’d hope so,” the girl guffawed. “But that doesn’t answer the question, now, does it?”

“Not sure what you want to hear,” Eve avoided with a shrug. The girl wasn’t having any of it.

“Uh—how you’re feeling, maybe? We are speaking the same language, right?”

Eve snorted despite herself, then winced. “Stab wound hurts,” she deadpanned. “Other than that, I’m peachy.”

“There! Was that so hard?” the girl needled. “My name is Lika. Grumpy over there is Corelle, and it seems like you already met Bryn. What’s your name, stranger?”

Eve hesitated, but she didn’t think there was any reason to hide it. There were still few people that knew her name and face, but the Firelights didn’t have to be as secretive as before. “Eve,” she decided. “It’s… nice to meet you all.”

From her bunk, Corelle barked a derisive laugh. “Nicer to meet us than to be here, maybe. Be even nicer if we never had to meet at all.”

Eve shrugged at that. “Fair enough,” she muttered.

“Alright,” Lika said brusquely, her demeanor changing as she straightened slightly. “Now that we have all of that out of the way, time for some ground rules and a few warnings. Rule one, don’t do or say anything until your stomach is all healed up. Squash that rebellious streak that landed you here, or the guards will beat you. And they will aim for the injury.”

Eve grimaced, her hand hovering over the stitches. With Eve’s tendency to let her mouth get ahead of her, that was a warning she’d probably needed. Lika nodded at the look on her face, happy to be taken seriously.

“And second—”

“Hide the hair,” Corelle interrupted. She wasn’t looking their way, laid back on her bed with her eyes closed, hands behind her head. “Guards don’t like pink hair.”

Lika’s jaw clenched briefly, eyes tightening, but she shook it off. “Well, yes,” she admitted, leaning back on Eve’s cot and supporting herself with her arms. “Not much to do about that, though. Hair dye and hoods aren’t exactly common amenities around here.”

“Wait a minute,” Eve said, her brow furrowing. “What’s wrong with my hair?” She liked her hair.

“Eh, you’ll see,” Bryn called down from her bunk with a chuckle. “Right piece of work, she is. Likes to grill the newbies about the outside world.”

“There’s another prisoner with pink hair,” Lika explained. “She, uh… doesn’t much like to follow rule one. The guards are wary about her.”

“Perfect,” Eve groaned. This was just what she needed. She was already trying to make plans to break out, of course, and extra attention from the guards wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Anyway,” Lika dismissed, waving her hand, “on to rule two.”

Eve listened as best she could as the girl rambled, occasionally dropping helpful bits of information. She was entertaining, and Corelle and Bryn didn’t seem half bad either. As far as bunkmates in a prison went, Eve guessed she got pretty lucky.

A harsh bell cut through a story Bryn was telling—Lika was still only halfway through rule four, her irritation mounting every time she was interrupted—and the conversation abruptly cut off.

“Lunch time,” Corelle told Eve, standing and stretching. The door unlocked, and Bryn and Lika left the room. Corelle held her hand out to Eve and waited. Up close, she was rather tall.

“Well?” she asked after a moment. “You planning on walking yourself down there?”

“Oh, right,” Eve realized, letting the larger woman help her to her feet. “Thank you.”

Corelle body-blocked Eve from the crowd of people streaming from their cells to the mess hall, rowdy and laughing but strangely quiet. There were both more and fewer people than Eve had expected, somehow. It took ages to run through the line, it felt like, and even with Corelle’s support, Eve’s legs were feeling weak. The pain in her torso flared with every movement, but not enough to cry about just yet. 

Eventually, Eve found herself seated at a table near the edge of the large room, against a wall. Her tray was heaped with questionably edible mush, and some steamed vegetables. Corelle started to walk away—Eve looked up sharply, alarmed. She didn’t want to be left alone, not now when she was injured and vulnerable. Corelle just gave her an apologetic look.

“I don’t want to get mixed up with her,” she said, jerking her head to the side. Eve saw a flash of pink hair, and her stomach sank. “I’ll come get you after—you’ll be fine till then.”

Eve didn’t know if she believed her, but she hoped she was right. She braced herself as that head of pink hair came ever closer, the crowd parting before her in a way that reminded her of Silco in the streets of Zaun. There was respect there, but also fear.

Eve forced herself to relax, and told herself she was getting worked up over nothing. As long as she didn’t start anything, she’d be fine. Then Eve saw the girl’s face, and her breath went out in a woosh. This was not fine.

Her first impression was that this woman looked a bit like herself, only… name brand. She was prettier, scarier, more muscular—she even had her name tattooed across her cheek, like she was declaring that she was the real deal. In comparison, Eve felt like a brandless foreign knockoff, worth a quarter of the price of the original, and of course without a logo. Her brain had barely any space for the metaphor, however, because more importantly, Eve recognized her.

First, a double take. She looks like Jinx’s sister, the one on Ekko’s mural, she’d thought, bemused. What was her name, again? Then her eyes had found the aforementioned tattoo, answering her question helpfully. Oh, right. Vi.

After that, the mental equivalent of a record scratch.

[]

Viktor was beyond livid. He couldn’t reach Jayce, and with no one else to vent to, his anger had been simmering and building upon itself as he forced himself to smile at the officers leading him to Blue’s holding cell. He stayed quiet but polite, and every moment of it was another lie that made him want to explode. He was well aware of his own limits, however, and he was very careful not to let the Enforcers know what he thought of them at this moment.

“She’s… a little scary,” one Enforcer warned him with an awkward chuckle, and Viktor pointedly didn’t shout at the boy. That would aggravate his lungs, anyhow. “I don’t know what it is. She just, um. She hasn’t said anything, just kinda sitting there, but… in a sort of dangerous way, I guess.”

Viktor’s smile tightened, and the other Enforcer whacked her junior over the helmet. “You’re an Enforcer,” she hissed in a whisper, but still clearly audible. “No one will take you seriously if you’re blabbering nervous nonsense.”

They finally reached the cell, and Viktor gladly left the younger Enforcer to be reprimanded as he entered and closed the door. This wasn’t normally allowed for Undercity convicts, but Heimerdinger had pulled a few strings for him. 

As soon as his eyes landed on her, Viktor felt like maybe that junior Enforcer didn’t deserve the lecture he was getting right now. There was something about the blue-haired girl sitting cross-legged in front of him that was unmistakably dangerous, even if she wasn’t doing anything. Her eyes were an odd mix of glassy, distant and calculating.

She glanced his way as the door opened, but quickly looked away again. Her eyes turned toward the floor, something dark stirring in them. Dread, perhaps? Shame?

“Blue?” he said, hobbling closer. “Are you okay?” She didn’t answer, and he bit his lip. He should have started with something else. “This is ridiculous,” he huffed, shaking his head sharply. “I—”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, the slight rasp in her voice so pronounced in the quiet. “I didn’t mean it.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You… what?”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your presentation,” she mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest. “I just—I wanted to—” She deflated, letting out a long breath. “Nevermind.”

Viktor’s mind rebooted. She had been responsible for the spectacle? At least, that was the only thing he could think she might be implying. That changed—well, it changed a few things. Not that much, if he was being honest, although he had many more questions now. He remembered a thought he’d had in the midst of the chaos, that someone was trying to send a message. He’d dismissed it as a secondary worry then, but now he tried to puzzle through it.

He tried to ignore the sting of realizing she wasn’t actually there for him. She didn’t even know he was involved in hextech, and it must have been a nasty surprise when she found out. But then, why was she there?

“We were too slow,” he realized, sagging against his crutch. He made his way to the stone bench, lowering himself into a seated position. “You were, eh… protesting, against the hexgates.”

Blue just shrugged, not confirming anything, but she might as well have. “I just wanted to help Zaun,” she said. “Instead I went and sabotaged the only Piltie allies we have.” She flinched, her eyes darting to a shadowed corner of the room, then pressed her lips into a line. Viktor noted this, but didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem appropriate.

“And… why get arrested?” Viktor asked. “Surely you had a plan of escape?”

“I didn’t finish the plan. Didn’t think I’d have to escape—shoulda known better.”

“You did not even try,” Viktor pressed, baffled.

Blue shrunk in on herself. “I coulda done it,” she said, her voice even softer. “But I—I didn’t want—” She shuddered, her hands flying to her ears to block out nonexistent noises. “I can’t prove them right,” she gritted out.

“About?” he prompted.

Her glare nearly seared through him; his breath caught, but he stopped himself from backtracking. “Talk to me, Blue,” he encouraged. “I can help you.” And he realized, only vaguely surprised, that he wanted to. Perhaps he should have gathered more information before he decided he was on her side, but it was too late for that.

“Help me?” she scoffed, raising an eyebrow. He thought he could see something hopeful behind her skepticism, however. “After what I did?”

Viktor shrugged. “They were not my curtains,” he dismissed. Unwillingly, she let out a sardonic giggle.

“I was gonna rob you,” she pointed out, but she was already uncurling from her tense, afraid position. He cheered himself silently.

But she didn’t rob him, and that had let Viktor and Jayce salvage the presentation. And besides… “You cannot steal something I already planned to give you,” he countered. 

That one seemed to really take her off guard, her mouth opening and closing as her mind reeled. He chuckled a bit at the sight. “Whatever,” she said after a minute, rolling her eyes.

Viktor let them fall into silence, the girl’s mind obviously mulling something over. She seemed on the verge of telling him something, and he didn’t want to interrupt. At one point, Viktor saw through the glass the junior Enforcer, raising a hand to knock on the door; Viktor shot him a glare so withering, he gulped and backed away, time limit be damned.

“I could have escaped,” Blue finally said, her voice barely a whisper. “But I didn’t want to kill anyone. He would hate me—they all would.”

Viktor blinked. He let himself think for a moment before responding. “Eh… Excuse me?” he said.

Perhaps he should have let himself think for a while more.

“I was overwhelmed,” she said, sounding like she was quoting that word from someone else. She slumped. “I’m dangerous when I’m like that. I hurt people. Kill people.”

Viktor let out a heavy breath. It all seemed so obvious in hindsight. The guns, the graffiti, the way she spoke of Zaun. He’d known she wasn’t exactly harmless, he wasn’t an idiot, but he’d still vastly underestimated her. She was far more dangerous than he’d realized—she wasn’t just a victim, or even just a criminal. She was a revolutionary—one with heavy emotional scars, branded into her brain. 

“But you didn’t,” he said, half to remind her and half to remind himself. “You didn’t hurt anyone—you chose not to.”

She gave a half-hearted grunt of agreement, and Viktor frowned. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a chance to press the issue. An Enforcer, different from the timid one before, was banging on the door, letting him know his time was up. Viktor’s expression soured.

“Bye, Vicky,” the girl sing-songed, waggling her fingers at him. “Thanks for stopping by.”

He sighed. “I will see you again soon,” he promised, pulling himself up to his feet. “Farewell, Blue.”

“Wait,” she said as he turned to go. He glanced back, and he saw her watching the door. The Enforcer outside had his back to them, arguing with someone and not paying attention. “My name is Jinx,” she told him, offering a crooked smile. “But, uh, don’t tell these guys?”

Viktor felt that warmth again, the one he’d felt when Caitlyn said Blue had called him her brother. Perhaps that was all a ruse to get into the building, but to him it felt real. To him, Jinx was his sister. He shot her a wink before hobbling out, straight into the syrupy thick tension of the waiting room.

The new Enforcer was locked in a glaring match with another boy who had just arrived, anger practically palpable in the air. The newcomer had dark skin and white dreads, tied back neatly, and was dressed like an academy student but in shades of green and brown instead of Piltover’s white and gold. Viktor thought he looked familiar—perhaps he’d worked with him on the water filter? Or maybe the air ducts after that.

The boy relaxed when he saw Viktor, offering him a nod, and Viktor thought that must be right. “I apologize,” he said to the Enforcer, putting on his polite smile again. “Time must have gotten away from me. Would you help me back to the entrance?”

The Enforcer glanced between Viktor, the other boy, and the cell door before huffing irritably. “Fine,” he said. He opened the door and let the boy in, pointing a finger into his face. “Five minutes,” he threatened, slamming the door shut and locking it. He set off at a hurried pace, eager to guide Viktor and then be back to supervise.

Only, Viktor’s leg was really acting up today—he apologized profusely for the entire trip, taking occasional breaks as the Enforcer tapped his foot and checked the time. Perhaps it was petty, but to Viktor, it was oh so cathartic.

[]

Jayce knocked on Caitlyn’s door, his hands fidgeting nervously. This conversation had the potential to go disastrously wrong, and of course, Cassandra had left it to him to break the news. Caitlyn would be furious, he knew. He’d thought about bringing flowers, but decided that was rather pointless.

The door opened, and Caitlyn greeted him with a smile and a short embrace before hurrying back to her stool, which was set up in the middle of the floor to survey the veritable maze of evidence and theories she’d laid out. He winced. Not a great sign. 

“Hey, Cait,” he greeted, and he knew he did an awful job of hiding his stress. He was always a horrible liar. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Cooped up,” she said, not looking away from her evidence board. “Not a single injury, and I’m given leave to “recuperate”— I swear, she coddles me like I’m made of glass. She’d give anything to keep me from seeing the real world.”

Jayce let out a long breath, bouncing on his toes. It wasn’t appropriate for the situation, but he had to let out the nervous energy somehow. “Yeah… uh, I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it.” Caitlyn paused then, turning to him curiously, and he wished again Cassandra had the courage to have this conversation herself. “Your mother has spoken to the Sheriff,” he sighed, deciding to just rip the bandage off. “He agreed to remove you from the force.”

“What!?” Caitlyn exploded, predictably. Her face was painted with indignant rage, colored with disbelief. Jayce raised his hands and backed away, denying responsibility. “She can’t just—”

“That’s not the official reason,” Jayce said, trying to sound apologetic and supportive at the same time. He was not cut out for this kind of thing. “Sheriff Marcus is citing your behavior regarding Renni’s investigation. Your mother’s request is just an excuse.”

Caitlyn looked like she wanted to lash out at something, aborted the action, and then screamed in frustration. Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something, and Jayce continued before she could put her thoughts together.

“So I was thinking,” he started, unable to meet her eyes, “that we could… help each other out a little bit.”

Cait stopped, her breathing uneven, but she was trying valiantly to keep her head. “What do you have in mind?” she asked cautiously. 

“Well, uh. I don’t understand it all myself, but starting today, I’ve become a Councilor,” he admitted. It felt surreal to say out loud—it felt surreal to even think about, and not necessarily in a good way. Caitlyn sputtered, half-formed questions tumbling from her lips, but Jayce bulldozed on. “I’m in charge of hextech security, and I need people I can trust. I was hoping… I was hoping you would agree to be head of House Talis security.”

Caitlyn looked taken aback. “That’s—that’s a ceremonial position. I’d be stuck behind a desk!”

Jayce made a noncommittal noise. “Well, it’s supposed to be,” he agreed. That got her attention.

“What are you planning?” Caitlyn demanded, her eyes narrowing. Jayce set his jaw and rolled his shoulders back. This, he wasn’t at all nervous about.

“I don’t trust the merchants, I don’t trust the Enforcers, and I don’t trust the Councilors,” he stated bluntly. “I don’t even trust the Sheriff. I have no idea what I’m doing here Cait. I’m a scientist; not a politician, and not a detective. I need someone I can trust to investigate this for me—with the full authority of a Councilor, of course.”

He saw that spark in her eyes, and he knew he got her. She was hooked, and he let out a breath. “In order to investigate, I’d have to be on the streets,” she probed, testing him. He just nodded.

“Listen—I do want you to be safe, okay?” he said, nearly begging. “But I won’t try to wrap you up and hide you away—I’ll trust you. You have to promise me, though. Keep yourself safe, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn nodded, first thoughtful, then more excited. Her mind whirled, and she practically looked giddy—he just hoped Cassandra wouldn’t hate him too much. A foolish hope, he knew.

“Alright,” Caitlyn said, practically dragging him to her spiderweb on the floor. “I’ve got a plan.”

[]

Ekko thought he had handled that situation extremely well. Jinx’s Piltie scientist friend may have helped, but it had taken extreme self-control not to break that Enforcer’s nose. Jinx was right on the other side of that door, he didn’t know how she was doing, and the guy just wouldn’t shut up.  

Now, though, she was right in front of him. She was smiling at him, faintly amused, and she didn’t look nearly as bad as he’d feared. Ekko suspected the scientist—Viktor, his name was—had helped with that, too. Ekko dropped all pretenses as soon as the door shut behind him, surging forward and scooping her into his arms. 

“Oh, Janna,” he muttered into her hair, her arms wrapping tightly around his chest. He could feel the fabric of his shirt bunch up in her fists. “I was so worried about you,” he said. “Silco’s losing his damn mind.”

She chuckled wetly, holding him tighter. There wasn’t a label on their relationship, but that was more for Silco’s sanity than anything else. Everyone knew, though—Ekko and Jinx were inseparable, and these last two days had been the longest consecutive amount of time they’d been apart for years.

“Sorry,” she said after a while, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. She still hated when anyone saw her cry—Ekko felt his heart swell when she didn’t turn away, trusting him with her emotions in a way that even Silco was rarely privy to. “I didn’t want to ruin everything. Did it work?”

Ekko blinked, remembering the whole point of that mission. “Seems like it, but we’re not sure yet,” he admitted. “They’ve locked down part of the hexgates, and the rumor is there’s a new Councilor in charge of hextech.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Fat load of good that’ll do,” she sneered. “Just what we needed: another Councilor.”

“I’m not optimistic about it,” Ekko admitted, “but Silco has Marcus pushing for tighter security as well, and I think he’s making headway. Now we just need to get you out of here.”

Jinx hesitated, and Ekko’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?” he asked warily.

“Can we risk it?” she asked him, her lips forming an anxious pout. “The councilors we’re targeting won’t miss an opportunity to shift everyone’s attention. If I escaped…”

Ekko shook his head, even though it was a valid concern. If getting Jinx out meant this plan fell to pieces, he’d do it in a heartbeat. She was more important than some scheme for money and power. “We don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “If it happens, I’ll need you there to help me with a new plan.”

Jinx pursed her lips. “Okay,” she said doubtfully. “Well… how did things go on your end?”

Ekko, with careful instruction from Silco, had become a very good liar. Fortunately or not, all of that flew out the metaphorical window when it came to Jinx. He hesitated, then cursed himself for hesitating when she went tense, pulling herself out of his arms entirely. 

“Ekko,” she said dangerously. “What happened?”

He took in a deep breath, then let it out in defeat. “Eve was injured, then captured,” he said slowly, wishing he had the willpower to ever hide something from her. “Last I heard, she was headed to Stillwater.”

Jinx sucked in a breath, going still. Ekko rested a hand on one of hers, hoping to help her ground herself, and he was proud of her when she started practicing breathing exercises she’d learned from a doctor they’d hired at the clinic. He could see the moment she came to a decision, and he felt in the sinking of his gut that he wouldn’t like it, even before she spoke.

“I’ll get her,” she declared, like it was so simple and not completely, utterly ridiculous. She nodded to herself.

“What? No!” Ekko exclaimed, shaking his head fiercely. “No, nononono. We’ll get Eve out, I promise, but it’ll take a while. Even Marcus doesn’t hold rank over the warden, and Silco is going to have to be careful.”

“Not if I get the Pilties on my side,” Jinx shot back, and Ekko looked at her like she’d really, truly gone insane. 

“Excuse me?” he asked her.

“Silco has Marcus, I have the Kirammans, Viktor, and, uh… Jayce Talis maybe,” she insisted. “I can get in there, make sure she’s alright, and then the Pilties could buy me out. Vicky and Cait seem to like me, for some reason.”

“And Talis?” Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe I’m stretching with that one,” she admitted. “But he’s Viktor’s friend, so like, maybe.”

Ekko clenched his jaw. Not in anger, just hoping it might help him think through the anxiety of this conversation. “I’ll look into it,” he said finally. “I’ll talk to your friends, see if they’ll help if you got locked up. I don’t want you to follow through on this, though. Can’t you try to get them to help us with Eve, without putting yourself in Stillwater?”

Jinx threw her arms around him again, and this time she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He flushed, and he knew from experience that his ears and nose were visibly red despite his dark complexion. Jinx grinned; she loved seeing him flustered, unfortunately.

A harsh banging on the door startled both of them, and they turned to see the Enforcer, red-faced and huffing like he’d just sprinted all the way up to the cell. Ekko glanced at the clock—damn, Viktor had bought them some time, huh? Maybe he wasn’t such a Piltie after all.

“I’ve got this,” Jinx reassured him in a whisper, and he groaned.

“Silco’s gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he muttered.

[]

Vi sighed as she served herself a scoop of the god-awful mush they pretended was food here. You’d think, after six years, she’d be used to it. Somehow, it still tasted like shit.

She headed straight for her table, the one reserved for her alone by unspoken rule, and the crowd parted around her. She wouldn’t have minded a little company over the years, but the first few to approach her had been assholes or creeps. After she left them with broken bones, no one approached her, friendly or not. Lonely, yes, but better lonely than… well, she didn’t want to think about it.

That’s why she was so surprised to see someone at her table, hunched over slightly and tense as they watched Vi approach. The woman had pink hair like Vi, albeit maybe a shade less vibrant, and not cut in as bold of a style. Vi had never seen her before, and she raised an eyebrow as she drew closer, slowing down.

“This table’s taken,” Vi said dryly, dropping her tray to the table with a thud. The poor girl looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Uh,” she said eloquently, and Vi glared.

“Up,” Vi commanded. “Get lost.”

Blinking rapidly, she finally managed a sentence. “I… can’t,” she said sheepishly, wincing and holding her stomach. “Sorry.”

Vi’s gaze sharpened onto the girl’s midsection, where her arms were wrapped protectively. That explained the hunching and the careful movements, she supposed. Vi wasn’t a stranger to being so injured she couldn’t walk, and she felt a certain kinship with her. “Whatever,” Vi said, sliding into her seat next to the girl. It wasn’t exactly companionable, but it was less lonely.

“I was told you’d want to talk to me, since I’m new,” the other girl said hesitantly. Vi snorted, shoveling nasty food into her mouth.

“So, what, they left you here like some kind of tribute?” she said around a mouthful, laughing. “Kinda fucked up.”

The girl shrugged, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t relax, but Vi figured that was more to do with the injury than her. “So far, it hasn’t been all that bad,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re welcome for that,” Vi said. She almost knocked the girl’s shoulder with her own to punctuate the statement—she’d always been a physical communicator—before remembering how bad of an idea that was. Great, she hissed at herself internally. Rack up even more experience hurting people unintentionally. She shook off the thought. “I could have been as nasty as they thought I’d be, though,” Vi pointed out. “What then?”

The girl blinked, tilting her head this way and that. “Meh. They don’t think you’re some kind of monster or anything,” she said. “I’ve only been here a day, but it seems like most people kinda like you. They just keep their distance because of how much trouble you’re always in with the guards.”

Vi paused, a bite halfway to her mouth. That actually made a lot of sense, and she really should have figured it out over the years. Well, it didn’t make her any less lonely, but it did make her feel a little less bad about it. 

“So,” Vi said abruptly, turning to the girl. “Let’s get this interrogation started, why don’t we? What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Eve,” was all she said

“Alright Eve, what got you landed here?”

“Uh… I’m not actually sure what they would’ve charged me with. Vandalism, maybe? Grand theft, trespassing, terrorism?”

Vi blinked. This girl was way more interesting than she looked. Vi leaned forward. “Well, now you have to tell me the story,” she said flatly. 

Eve chuckled, then hesitated. “It’s a long one,” she said. Vi just raised an eyebrow, but the girl’s next words weren’t the beginning of a story. “You… you’re Vi, aren’t you?” she said, and it was more of a statement than a question.

Vi froze. No one had called her by her name in… in years. She never talked to other inmates long enough to tell them her name, and the guards only ever called her 516. One of the reasons she’d gotten the tattoo on her cheek was because she’d been scared one night, irrationally, that she’d forget it.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, all levity evaporated. Her shoulders were bunched up tight, and she rolled her right one back when it twinged painfully.

Eve pointed silently at her cheek, and Vi scowled at her. “You often see people’s tattoos and just assume it’s their own damn name?” she snapped. “Don’t bullshit me. How do you know my name?”

Eve let out a long breath, shrinking away as Vi’s tension mounted. Her fingers twitched, clenching into fists. It seemed like Eve was trying to gauge her, get a measure on what to say. Eventually, she figured it out. “I heard it from Ekko,” she said, and the tension bled from Vi’s shoulders just as quickly as it had built.

“Ekko?” she whispered. “Little Man’s alive?”

“Yeah. He… There’s more, but like I said, it’s a long story. And,” Eve hesitated again, “if you’re anything like us, you’re really not gonna like it.”

[]

“They’re coming for hextech,” Kino said, his voice deadly serious, his face grim. “Not just my mother—not even just Noxus. Commoditized magic is a threat to mages everywhere, and they will not rest until it is theirs, or it is gone.”

Silco pursed his lips, his fingers tracing lines of doodles on the underside of his desk. He’d told Jinx, early on, that he would keep them if they couldn’t be seen in a meeting. Oh, how he missed her. The world had its eyes on his back, but none of it would be so daunting with her by his side. With Jinx, he could do anything.

“Who, specifically?” Silco finally asked. “Mages everywhere may be an intimidating idea, but they are hardly organized. Who has their sights on Piltover, right now?”

“They’re called the Black Rose,” Kino answered, his gaze darting around like just saying the name might summon them. “They are a shadow organization of mages in Noxus, pulling strings like puppet masters in the background. They are immeasurably powerful.”

Silco’s lip curled. “Everything can be measured,” he dismissed. Kino’s jaw feathered.

“You cannot fight them,” he stressed.

“And why, in Janna’s own name, would I fight them?” Silco asked, amused. “I’m accustomed to battling foes of superior strength, Kino Medarda. And, it seems to me that you want me to fight them.”

Kino hesitated, rubbing his wrists. Silco had him unbound the night before, and given a bath and change of clothes. The Zaunite getup suited him, but then again, Silco thought Zaunite dress suited everyone. Kino didn’t look like a warrior, but he was still a Noxian. Sevika was close at hand, in case he thought to try anything.

“They need to be stopped,” Kino finally said, his eyes hard as flint. “However, trying to fight the Black Rose or my mother as an independent city-state is suicide. You’d need an empire.”

“We don’t have one,” Silco said dryly. “But we’ll make do. We always do, in Zaun.”

“If I could just speak to my sister—”

“Your sister is my enemy,” Silco snapped, not for the first time. “You can speak to her about your family quarrel after Zaun is free.”

Kino Medarda paused, and Silco realized this might be the first time he’d referenced his goals in front of him. It wasn’t like he meant to keep it a secret anymore, not when he was entering the final stages of his plan, but it was amusing. 

“You truly mean to fight for independence?” Kino asked, disbelieving. “Now, with Noxus on your shores, you intend to start internal conflict?”

“Noxus, the Black Rose—they are hardly our problem,” Silco scoffed. “Their goal is hextech, which we do not have, and it makes no difference to Zaunites if the boot on their neck is Noxian or Piltovan.” He was wildly exaggerating, of course—there were very high stakes for Zaun with Noxus involved, but Kino Medarda didn’t need to know that. 

“You’re being shortsighted and selfish,” Kino accused, his handsome face forming an imperious frown as he drew himself up. “Just another peacock prince, playing games of power while lives are on the line.”

Silco surprised himself by laughing. His temper had been balanced on a wire these past few days, frayed nearly to the point of madness, and that was just the sort of comment that should have set him off. Instead, he found himself struck by the sheer absurdity. It was nothing more than a dark chuckle, but that was more than he usually allowed. The only person to ever see him truly laugh since Vander was Jinx—and Ekko, once, to his eternal chagrin.

The door opened, and Ekko strode in as if on cue. He froze just inside the threshold, the door swing shut behind him, as he met the eyes of their guest. “This,” Silco said to Kino, “is my second lieutenant, Ekko.” Ekko’s eye twitched at the introduction, but he didn’t challenge the title in front of a stranger. He’d grown from the impulsive youth he’d been all those years ago. “Ekko, meet our honored guest, Kino Medarda.”

Ekko kept an impressively neutral face as Kino scoffed, but Silco could see the calculations, recalculations, and desperate organization of his thoughts. He could also see Ekko’s thumb subtly twisting a ring around his middle finger, emblazoned with Jinx’s doodles alongside his Firelight symbol. Jinx had made it for him—with a flashbang built in for an emergency, naturally—and Silco had nearly combusted when she went with a ring of all things. Silco eyed Ekko’s hand, and pointedly stopped himself from tracing Jinx’s doodles on his desk.

“Your honored captive,” Kino corrected, lounging in his small wooden chair. The chair was supposed to drive home the difference of power between Silco, in his plush, royal purple armchair, and anyone seeking an audience. It made them feel small, gave Silco an edge. Kino sat in it like it was a throne.

“You look comfy for a captive,” Ekko said evenly, folding his arms.

“A gilded cage remains a cage,” came Kino’s smooth reply.

Ekko’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed. “You want out, then?”

Kino paused, though not for long. “No one likes to be trapped,” he said.

“Everyone is trapped. If they think they aren’t, they’re just ignoring the bars.”

Silco blinked, but his face didn’t betray his emotion. Ekko was paraphrasing one of Silco’s favorite aphorisms—Silco didn’t think he’d actually listened during those talks. Silco was caught between surprise, pride, fondness, and of course, denial. He felt a closeness to Ekko sometimes, one that he always pushed away. It felt like betraying Jinx somehow, to feel that way about someone else, and he couldn’t bring himself to examine those feelings. Besides, they were easy to forget by the next time the boy infuriated him.

“A rather cynical point of view,” Kino responded, but Silco could see in his eyes that Ekko had captured his attention. The kid had a gravity about him that was different from the way Silco or even Jinx commanded attention—lighter, somehow. Warmer.

“Pragmatic, not cynical,” Ekko corrected. “Right now, you’re a pretty bird complaining about his cage and ignoring the wolves outside.”

“We saved your life,” Silco agreed, inserting himself once again into the conversation. “And at great risk. I will use you for Zaun’s benefit one way or another—if you wish to help your family, I’d suggest making yourself an asset. As I said, those problems will be dealt with after we achieve our independence.”

Silco waved a hand at Sevika, and she straightened to attention. “Deliver Kino to the Firelights,” he said. “He’ll be more useful there.”

Kino rolled his eyes, even that seeming to be a dignified motion somehow, but he stood and followed Sevika without her needing to drag him. Now that the audience was gone, Ekko turned to him without wasting a moment.

“I visited Jinx,” he reported, practically blurting it out, and Silco was immediately at full attention. “She’s in one of those Piltie jails, waiting for a trial.”

“And they let you visit?” Silco said, incredulous. He was no stranger to friends being arrested, even going to jail himself a few times. No one from the Undercity was allowed visitors.

“Seems like her Piltie scientist friend is more important than we thought,” Ekko said with a shrug. “He pulled some connections, apparently.”

“Ah, Viktor,” Silco mused. The Zaunite. What connections did he have topside, to be able to pull that off? He should investigate that further. “And what plans have you made to get her out?”

Ekko hesitated, then groaned. He ran a hand through his dreads and plopped heavily onto the couch along the wall. “With the publicity of a trial, my first thought was acquittal. Get her off with a fine, maybe. But I don’t think she’ll cooperate.”

“And what makes you say that?” Silco asked dangerously, his fingers steepled. 

“She found out Eve is in Stillwater,” Ekko sighed. “She wants to go in and get her out, somehow.”

Silco had an image to maintain, and therefore held himself back from throwing his hands into the air helplessly. Instead he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pulled out a cigar. 

“It’s a stupid plan, but it might work,” Ekko said as Silco lit up his smoke and breathed in. “She managed to befriend the Kiramman girl as well, while she was up there. She thinks her Piltie friends could spring her and Eve after the attention dies down.”

Silco let his head fall back and puffed out rings of smoke, watching them ascend. Jinx was smarter than that. He knew his girl, and she had to know she was being needlessly reckless. “She’s blaming herself for something,” Silco murmured through the smoke. “She’s convinced herself she deserves it—or maybe that she needs to redeem herself by saving a friend.”

Ekko just slumped further. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

There was a moment of silence, thick and heavy as the smoke lingered in the air. 

“So what do we do?” Ekko finally asked, looking to him. Silco extinguished his cigar on the ashtray Jinx had decorated for him, with perhaps more force than necessary.

“Perhaps we should use Kino,” Silco said, mulling over the thought, wrestling with it. “It would be a shame to play a card like him so soon, but he is as much a viability as an asset. It might be better to discard him.”

Ekko grunted, thoughtful. “Could we use Finn?” he suggested.

“We wouldn’t have to use anyone, if Jinx wanted to get out,” Silco sighed. “The best plan may be to allow her foolishness, but… I need her here. Now more than ever.”

Ekko pushed himself to his feet, rolling back his shoulders to hide the tired slump they’d taken. “I’ll talk to her pet Pilties—see what they can do. Maybe I can talk the pretty bird into backing us up, deliver a letter to Mel. Scar will take point on reclaiming the trade contracts that get pushed out the hexgates. You and Sevika will have to handle the rest.”

Silco nodded sharply. “Good,” he approved, trying to get his mind back in gear to be productive. He wished Jinx were here. He wished… He wished Vander were here, watching his back like he used to. Jinx had begun asking him for stories of him and Vander, and despite the pain, it had forced so many memories that weren’t bitter back into the forefront of his mind. He sighed sharply as Ekko left the room.

No use wishing for a past that was dead.

Chapter Text

“Your sister is alive.”

Vi could have fallen to her knees at the words if she hadn’t been sitting down already. The wind was knocked out of her as her mind blanked briefly, overwhelmed with pure relief. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying and failing to control her breathing as tears leaked through her eyelids. Six years she’d spent in agonizing uncertainty, wondering if her last words to Powder were the last she would ever get to say, but Vi would go through it all again just for that moment. Still, she tried not to let herself get too carried away. She was in a public cafeteria after all, and also… Eve looked a little too anxious to be solely the bearer of good news. 

It’s a long story. And, if you’re anything like us, you’re really not gonna like it. Vi braced herself.

“How did she get away from Silco?” she asked, and by the way Eve winced, Vi guessed she hit the nail right on the head.

“She…” Eve hesitated. “She didn’t,” she admitted quietly. 

Vi scowled. Bad news, but she could live with that. As long as Powder was alive, she could break her out of wherever Silco was keeping her. Bonus points if she could wring his neck while she was at it. Her hands twitched at the thought, and she had to banish the sudden roaring in her ears.

“Do you know where he’s keeping her?” she asked, cutting straight to the point. Eve bit her lip in a way that reminded Vi so strongly of Powder, she had to have gotten it from her. “You do, don’t you?” she said, her heart picking up with excitement. This was the most she’d heard of her sister since… since…

A familiar stab of guilt and self-hatred lanced through her chest. Would Powder even want to see her again? Maybe she was glad Vi was dead. Maybe it would be best if she stayed that way. 

Vi mentally punched those thoughts right in the nuts.

“It’s… complicated,” Eve said finally. Her eyes flickered side to side like she was looking to escape, but her jaw was set in a way that said she wouldn’t run even if she could. “Silco—well, he has a sort of soft spot for her, I guess?” she said, cringing.

Vi was stopped short. A soft spot? After what he’d done? Her vision felt blurry and red around the edges; her food tray bent in her grip. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.

“I told you that you won’t like it,” Eve said, instinctively raising her hands to calm Vi. The movement was too much for her stomach wound, and she almost pitched over sideways before Vi caught her.

“Keep talking,” Vi said, trying not to make it sound like a threat. Her voice shook.

Eve groaned, both in pain and frustration. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to tell you, but please listen,” she begged. “For Jinx’s sake.”

Vi recoiled as if slapped, and Eve slumped to the table without her support. Vi’s eyes were wide, her brain was too loud. People were starting to glance over at them, but her reputation was enough to keep them away. “She’s not a jinx,” she snapped, venom in her voice. She didn’t say that enough before.

Eve grimaced apologetically. “She goes by Jinx now,” she said through pained breathing. “I should have told you that earlier—I’m sorry.”

Vi ground her teeth, but damn it she could pick her battles. This one, she would fight later. “You told me to listen, so I am,” she said harshly. “Now talk.”

Eve nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” she muttered. “Jinx—well… I’ll call her Powder for now.” Vi’s shoulders relaxed marginally. “Powder was taken in by Silco after you… were arrested, apparently. Everyone thinks you’re dead. I don’t get it, but he took care of her. He took over the Lanes, and soon we were the only resistance left.”

Vi folded her arms as she listened, nodding along. “Who’s we?” she asked.

“Ekko, me, and anyone else still willing to fight. We call ourselves the Firelights—Ekko is our leader.”

Vi whistled. So Little Man had his own gang now, huh? He was all grown up.

“Anyway, we were trying to sabotage his Shimmer operations—that purple drug Silco has. He made a version that gets you high instead of turning you into a monster, and he used it to take over everything. He didn’t care about the consequences—about the families and the lives it would ruin. Ekko tried to save Powder early on, but…” Eve bit her lip again nervously. “She wouldn’t leave.”

Vi narrowed her eyes. Silco was manipulating her sister—he had to be. But Powder was stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and Vi would get her out. She had to. She motioned for Eve to continue, as she’d paused to gauge Vi’s reaction.

“Eventually, Silco offered us a deal,” Eve said, her face screwing up in frustration. “We work with him, and in exchange he stops selling Shimmer.”

Vi snorted. She could tell Eve’s history with Silco was deeply personal. She was one of those whose life had been ruined by his drugs, and Ekko had watched him kill Benzo. There was no way that worked out for him. “And? How’d he like being told to shove it up his ass?”

Eve snickered, but it was weak. Vi’s smirk fell. “He didn’t enjoy hearing it as much as we enjoyed telling him, I’d guess,” she said. “But… he was persistent, and he had—um, Powder.” She stumbled a bit over the name. “Ekko thought it was another chance to help her, and he convinced us it was worth a shot.”

Vi felt dread pooling in her stomach. That couldn’t have ended well—Silco would stab them in the back, she just knew it. But Ekko was still alive, right? Hadn’t Eve told her that? “What happened?” Vi asked, nearly whispering.

“Nothing yet,” Eve admitted, her eyes turning to the floor. “Silco kept his word. We’ve made so much progress Vi, and Jinx is doing better every day. Now I don’t know what to believe.”

Vi felt her lip curl, her skin crawl. She didn’t believe his lies, did she? “He ruined your life,” Vi scoffed, bewildered and outraged.

Eve’s eyes were sharp as they darted up to meet Vi’s own. “I remember, trust me,” she said bitterly.

“Do you?” Vi shot back, delighting in the way Eve’s eyes lit up in anger. This was familiar—old habits beaten into her skull from these years in prison. When you’re vulnerable, go for the throat. “So you just don’t care that he killed people you loved?”

“What?! Your sister—”

“He destroyed the Undercity!” Vi continued, halfway to her feet. “He’s a liar, a traitor, and a murderer! He killed my family!”

“Whose bomb was it?!” Eve snarled back. Her eyes immediately went wide in horror, one hand flying to her mouth. Vi didn’t even see it; her vision was red.

She thought she might have heard the other girl trying to apologize before she felt something crack under her fist.

[]

Ekko cursed himself to hell and back, again, for getting Jinx to make him that plan. He knew the ploy they’d pulled was desperate, but… well, he was starting to get pretty damn desperate. 

He’d never been closer to getting Shimmer off the streets; the Lanes felt alive again, and there were fewer and fewer junkies in the alleyways. Zaunites were thriving, Sevika kept the chembarons in line, the water pump had been fixed for a full year now and they’d managed to keep it under the radar. The issue was—as it always seemed to be—money. With Shimmer nearly completely phased out, Silco was making record lows. Almost all of his factories had transitioned to producing variants for either chemtech or medicinal purposes, and while the chemtech still brought in a steady revenue, the medical strains operated at a loss.

That was due to Ekko’s insistence, of course. He believed every Zaunite should have access to the medicine they needed, and he wouldn’t budge on that no matter how much they could sell it for. He ignored the nagging in his mind, asking him if it was worth giving up Jinx. Silco had been humoring him, but his patience was running thin even before that disaster. If Silco lost much more money, he would risk losing the control he’d established over the underground. He’d made it clear that if Ekko couldn’t find a solution, he wouldn’t hesitate to resume Shimmer production and drastically cut the generous budget he’d given Ekko for his various pet projects.

Ekko couldn’t even blame him. He’d spent a frankly nauseating amount of Silco’s money to get Zaun where it was today; things like infrastructure updates, public facilities and affordable housing were unbelievably expensive. The rehab and emergency care clinic had grown and evolved until it rivaled Piltover’s own hospital, with hundreds of employees that Ekko refused to pay less than they deserved. It cost a fortune just to keep it running from month to month, and it made them nothing; the only reason it could still function that way was because Ekko had somehow gotten a grant from the Kiramman family. Silco had been livid, but Jinx had helped convince him there was no harm in accepting their money. 

The only silver lining was the unprecedented success they’d seen with Finn. Ekko and Jinx had managed to sell a bunch of cool shit they made to the Pilties using him, and Topsiders loved the way he pushed the bounds of propriety. Granted, he had plenty of haters, but definitely more fans. 

Unfortunately, without the support of Piltover’s businesses and the Council, profits were marginal. The entire line of production was owned by Silco, which was the only reason they could make a profit at all. Silco’s words about the impossibility of legitimate business echoed through his skull. 

He was trying to make himself care about all of that in the wake of Jinx’s arrest. It wasn’t like she was dead, he told himself. He cared about her, but he also cared about Zaun. He didn’t get to be selfish—people needed him. He wasn’t about to abandon any of them, including Jinx. Especially Jinx. So he kept making his rounds, taking slivers of his time to keep up with his responsibilities even though he’d rather spend every waking moment planning to get her out.

Kino Medarda wasn’t helping.

“For all the old man was complaining, it’s nicer down here than I’d expect,” Kino said in his stupid charming accent and suave voice. He followed Ekko through the Sump Clinic, as people were calling it, his gait casual and confident as he looked around, hands in his pockets. “Hardly worth a revolution, wouldn’t you say?”

Over the past hour, Ekko had ignored countless ignorant, throwaway comments like that from the man. It wasn’t worth the lecture, and he was on a tight schedule. This time, though, he snapped. He whirled on Kino, stopping him short in his tracks. Kino’s eyes widened slightly, one hand coming out of his pocket warily.

“Take a good look around you,” Ekko invited, a biting edge in his sarcastically cheery voice. “You see this hospital? You see the air ducts, the masks, the plants?” Kino only shrugged in response, leaning away from Ekko slightly as his smile became strained and uncomfortable. “All of that was paid for in Zaunite blood, and the only reason it’s still here is because nobody Topside fucking knows.”

“Sounds rather dramatic,” Kino drawled, taking a step away when Ekko refused to back up. “Noxus teaches a person what it means to truly pay in blood; I doubt you have any clue.”

Ekko’s breath caught as he forcibly stopped himself from lashing out. No screaming in the hospital, dumbass, he chided himself mentally. Still, he couldn’t let that one slide. “Don’t you fucking tell me I haven’t lost enough,” he snarled, his voice cracking slightly. “Don’t you fucking tell me that I don’t know. I don’t wanna hear your pompous, warmongering, Noxian ideals. You don’t get to tell me that we’re not oppressed enough.”

Kino actually winced at that, surprising Ekko. “I didn’t intend to deprecate your suffering,” he said, coming shockingly close to an apology. “I’m trying to help. I’m hardly the… Noxian ideal, as you said. I’ve seen enough war to hate it, Ekko. War is nothing but a failure of statecraft, and it—”

“Zaun is a failure of statecraft,” Ekko interrupted, the heat in his voice having cooled as he stepped back to give Kino some space. He folded his arms. “We don’t want war, we want independence. We’re preparing for war, because we’re anticipating Piltover’s response to that request is gonna be violent.”

Kino heaved a sigh, looking helpless. He didn’t say anything, but Ekko could tell he still believed that Ekko didn’t understand the cost. He gritted his teeth. He knew, on paper, how much a war would cost. He knew from experience how it felt to have those precious to him ripped away. He wished that, when he thought of Benzo, he could be proud his father figure died to give them all a better world. Instead he’d died to infighting, people lashing out against each other because of the suffering Piltover had put them through. 

Vander and Silco had never talked about Felicia, but Benzo did. For all the things Silco had done wrong, the twisted and ruthless decisions he’d made… Vander was the one who’d given up on their promise. Vander had given up on giving Zaun to her daughters—Silco hadn’t. Ekko still hated him—some days more than others—but he’d learned that Silco kept his goddamn word, whatever ends of the world it drove him to.

Ekko shook those thoughts from his mind and strode away, barely registering as Kino followed behind him. He needed to finish his visit to the Clinic and get back to making a plan for Jinx as soon as possible; he didn’t have the time to waste.

[]

Scar twirled his spear in one hand, cracking his neck as he waited at the entrance to the hideout for his team to gather. Punk was already there, along with Skiv and Arlo, and they were waiting on Crow and Bluebell. Bluebell was… a special case. Scar preferred to call her Bell—that way, it was easier to ignore that she’d renamed herself in honor of Jinx. He hadn’t gotten as close to Jinx as Ekko or Eve, and he still found himself wary. More and more of the new Firelights had been joining up because she’d helped or inspired them in some way, and he was worried. Ekko was ecstatic, of course, but Scar wondered if she was truly growing or simply acting out for Ekko in the same way she’d done for Silco.

Of course Scar liked her behavior now more than the past, but Ekko couldn’t seem to grasp that Scar was worried for her. Scar couldn’t put words to it, but her sudden altruistic attitude didn’t seem healthy. It felt like a plea, begging Ekko to see her value and not leave her, more than something she actually wanted to do.

Ekko had changed, too. Not necessarily in bad ways—he was an even better leader, somehow. Everything praiseworthy about Silco had bled onto him, from his meticulous organization and planning to his ability to capture attention and inspire people, and yet he’d kept his heart that formed the core of the Firelights. Still, though, he’d adopted at least one of Silco’s flaws. He was overthinking.

He was planning and scheming now, when the Ekko of the past would have acted. Ekko was growing in ways that were good for the future of Zaun, so Scar would fill the role that Ekko used to. While Ekko worried about managing everything and holding his precarious balance, making plans and leading, Scar would do things the Firelight way. Crow arrived with Bluebell in tow, and he nodded sharply. Go time.

“One last debrief,” he grunted as his team gathered around him. “We found where Renni is hiding, and we’re taking her out. Take her alive if we can, destroy her facilities as much as possible. We’ll likely be facing chemtank suits and nothing else—Renni likes her new shit, and she throws the old stuff away. Our biggest advantages are speed and equipment, and Jinx’s notes. Shimmer is flammable, so if you can light a spark in those tanks, they’re done for. No-kill policy is revoked for this mission—chemtanks are too dangerous, and only lethal damage will keep them down. Any questions?”

They’d been over this plenty of times—there were no questions. Only determination shone in their eyes, and Scar slammed his spear to the ground. Lightning sparked at the tip.

“Good; then let’s go.”

[]

Councilor Allira Salo had an appointment in half an hour, but he wasn’t sure he would make it. He was caught right in the middle of his favorite activity—lounging, with plenty of snacks that may or may not be laced with various drugs. He wasn’t an addict by any means, of course—he was just… a connoisseur, if you will. His latest curiosity, chocolate laced with bare hints of refined Shimmer, was an immediate new favorite. He may have overindulged—he’d have to cancel.

He rung a bell, and several of his stewards appeared at the door. They didn’t bat an eye at his appearance, used to his eccentricities. “Tell Amarra I can’t make it today,” he ordered flippantly, then absently waved them back out of the room. The head steward bowed low, and then they left as fast as they’d come in. He smiled, pleased. His staff was trained well, and he was proud.

However, as he picked up another bite of chocolate, he heard a knock at the door. He paused, a frown over his lips. He hit the bell again, and nothing happened. He sighed heavily. Right when he was feeling so proud of them.

Salo was relieved that he wasn’t so far gone as to feel unsteady on his feet as he crossed the room, pulling the door open himself. He blinked, baffled.

“Amarra,” he greeted as cordially as he could, subtly glancing up and down the halls. Where was his staff? “I had thought I’d told you I was unavailable.”

She smiled at him, strange shadows flickering in her eyes, and—

He blinked, finding himself back on his couch, disoriented. He looked left and right, felt his face, felt the couch. Hesitantly, he rang his bell again. His stewards slipped into the room smoothly once again.

“Ah… Did Amarra visit?” he asked, a headache building behind his eyes.

The head steward frowned, holding his perfect posture. “No, sir. She expressed disappointment but understanding at the cancellation. Shall I schedule a new time?”

Salo sank back into his couch. “No,” he said, eyeing the chocolates warily. “I’ll handle it later.” He waved a hand to dismiss them once more, and was left alone in his chambers. Perhaps he should pace himself better, next time.

[]

Jinx was starting to regret letting herself get arrested. Sure, there was the whole dissociative episode and maybe it hadn’t been a conscious decision at the time, but until now, it had felt right. It was miserable and lonely, and that’s what she deserved. Only, those feelings came and went. Right now, she missed Silco and Ekko a fair bit more than she hated herself.

She groaned, flopping over on her cot. She hadn’t had another visitor since Ekko had come by the day before, and she was bored out of her damn mind. She hated being bored—boredom invited idle thoughts, and Jinx’s idle thoughts liked to pick and tear at her sanity. She’d been doing better, though—no matter how much Mylo taunted and called her a fake, everything was worth it when Ekko looked at her the way he did when she did something good. He was like a good luck charm to counter her being a jinx—when he was around, things worked out when she tried to help. It had become an obsession, a psychological need to be a savior like Ekko was, just to prove to herself she wouldn’t eventually kill him, too.

“Too bad he wasn’t there that night,” Mylo lamented. “Too bad it was just you.”

Jinx stuck her tongue at a shadow she thought he might be hiding in. He didn’t know anything, anyway.

She was pretty sure her trial would be today—no one told her, but she’d overheard enough from the guards to make a guess. She languished in her cell until then, wondering what a Piltie trial was even like. Trenchers didn’t usually get one. She distracted herself with thoughts of Ekko, Silco, Zaun, anything. Equations and schematics led her right back to thinking of Ekko again, and how much she’d like to build them with him. She wondered what he was doing now.

The door finally clanged open, and Jinx leapt to her feet in relief. Six Enforcers filed into the small room, and she made a face as they silently cuffed her and led her out. They were less rough than she’d expected—she wondered why that was.

“Wow, my own parade,” she giggled into the silence, her voice bouncing between the walls. They walked in some kind of procession deeper into the building; none of them even acknowledged her speaking, but that wasn’t enough to put her off. “So lively, too! What’s the occasion?”

“Figured she’d be less excited to go to prison,” one finally commented, his voice painfully dull. He sounded like he’d forgotten how to have fun when he was, like, seven. The others chuckled.

“Why are we always stuck with the crazies?” another one sighed under his breath, just loud enough for Jinx and the other officers to hear.

“Got some experience, huh?” Jinx joked. She hated Enforcers, obviously, but there was a sort of camaraderie in knowing they didn’t want to be here either. The guy looked taken aback at her affable tone, then offered a hesitant chuckle.

“Yeah, you could say that. Had a guy try to bite off my pinky, once.”

“One guy kept stripping naked and praying to a god he made up,” another one added. “Ended up just tying a blanket around him.”

Jinx made a face. “Blech,” she said emphatically. A few of them laughed, and it felt weird and wrong.

They rounded a corner, and suddenly they’d arrived. The massive double doors were imposing, ramping up her anxiety and driving away distracting thoughts. The Council of Piltover was about to decide if she was guilty or not, and how to punish her. She had no doubt it would be Stillwater, so she resolved to just keep her mouth shut and let it happen. She wanted to go home, but she had to get Eve back first. She had to save her—to unjinx her.

The door opened, revealing an enormous and harshly lit room. It was long, with the podium and the Council at the far end. The entire length was lined with people, which Jinx hadn’t expected. Too many eyes. She focused on her breathing as the Enforcers gently led her forward, positioning themselves around her as if to shield her from all those eyes. She blinked, confused, and something like gratitude welled in her chest uninvited. One of the female officers met her eyes and gave an encouraging smile. Jinx straightened her back and turned her gaze forward. She couldn’t let them see her be weak—they were the enemy.

She reached the podium, and the Councilors were all gazing at her imperiously. She enjoyed the fact that they looked as confused as she was, as one Enforcer patted her on the shoulder before retreating. Another one even gave her a thumbs-up before being swallowed by the shadows. All the Councilors looked thrown off, except the beautiful dark-skinned lady with the gold makeup. And Jayce Talis—he gave the Enforcers a satisfied nod.

Jinx realized two things at once. One, Talis must have said something nice about her to those Enforcers. That explained why they warmed up to her so quickly, if she had the apparent favor of Mr. Golden Boy. The second thing was that Jayce Talis was sitting in a Councilor’s seat.

“Hey, congrats on the promotion,” she said to him dryly, burying her nerves under overconfident body language. Silco had made sure she could do that in her sleep. “Good press from the fire, huh? You’re welcome for that.”

His eyes narrowed at her, thoughtful, but he didn’t say anything. O-o-kay then. The ridiculous, giant windows suddenly started to grind shut, and Jinx jumped a little. Soon the entire hall was in darkness, and a spotlight blared to life right on top of her with a loud kachunk!  

“Shit—warn a girl, wontcha?” she complained, trying to calm her racing heart as she shielded her eyes from the light. But with that light on her, her eyes refused to adjust. She felt alone, surrounded by watching eyes and voices she couldn’t see. Panic built even as she fought it down, and she felt her lip curl into a nasty sneer. Anger and violence were her safety net, and she was falling.

A soft, feminine voice caught her before she hit the net. “Are you alright?” it asked in concern. It was melodic and rich, and utterly unruffled. Jinx latched onto that voice—her hallucinations were never kind, and they never sounded beautiful like this. That meant it was reality.

“Just peachy, thanks,” she grumbled, but she was still breathing heavily. Peachy— that was one of Eve’s words. Guess it rubbed off on her.

“If you are well, then we will begin,” said another, much less nice-sounding voice. It sounded male, and incredibly bored. “Explain yourself,” the voice demanded.

“Is that how this works?” Jinx asked, unimpressed. Her eyes—finally—were beginning to adjust, and she could make out the seats in the darkness. “I tell you a story and you decide if you believe me? I thought most of you were there.”

“We still don’t know who started the fire, or what they want,” said Talis. That confidence, playing hopscotch with the line bordering arrogance, was unmistakable; besides, she knew which direction he was in. “We want your testimony,” he said.

Jinx opened her mouth, a sarcastic quip at the ready, but she paused. Ekko suddenly took up her whole brain, and she remembered their plan. If she admitted now, would they stop looking? Would they consider the case closed, and decide not to tighten security after all?

“I don’t know what you expect me to know,” she said instead, flipping her braids over a shoulder with a nonchalant toss of her head. She blew her bangs out of her face. “I’m just a girl.”

One of the Councilors scoffed loudly, his voice scratchy and old. Hoskel, probably, though she couldn’t see him. “A girl from the Undercity, who was there at the scene of the crime,” he accused.

Now, Jinx knew her strengths and her weaknesses. She knew she was a wonderful actress, and she also knew she was a bad liar. She could never come up with a lie plausible enough to satisfy anyone, so instead she’d learned to make people lie to themselves. If she acted how they expected, they would come up with their own lie.

She visibly hesitated, then let herself deflate. “Well I guess that’s all you need, huh,” she said with fake bitterness. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“No, it’s not,” spat Jayce, surprisingly. “For the last time, Hoskel, you need evidence!”

“Councilor Talis, the circumstances—” another Councilwoman tried to mediate, but he cut her off.

“Suspicious circumstances warrant an investigation, not an arrest,” Jayce insisted. “I’ve been on trial in this very room for illegal experiments that ended in an explosion. She deserves the same grace you gave me, if not more!”

“Jayce,” said that melodic voice again, imploring. It must be Medarda. “As the only attendee without an invitation, she is the most likely culprit. Even if she is innocent, she’s our only lead. We can’t simply pardon her.”

Jinx stayed intentionally silent. Whatever scenario these people were cooking up was way better than any story she could have told.

“Sheriff Marcus’ prime suspect is Renni,” Jayce countered. “The only reason this girl is under trial in the first place is because you all ignored him for your own suspicions.”

Now, wasn’t that something? If Renni got caught up in all of this, even better!

“Well, I agree with Councilor Talis about one thing,” someone drawled, the annoyingly haughty and bored voice. Salo, Jinx was pretty sure. “She likely didn’t do it alone, and I’d like to know who was really after hextech. So, girl,” he said, addressing Jinx, “who sent you? Be honest, and our verdict will be lenient.”

Jinx bristled. “That’s a big assumption, Blondie,” she sniped, and a few gasps echoed through the hall. She rolled her eyes—she hadn’t even been mean! Apparently anything was too much for these sensitive Piltie elites.

“Answer the question,” Salo hissed, his voice sharper. “Who sent you? I don’t mean what petty Undercity gang you’re affiliated with. Was it Noxus? Ionia? Bilgewater, perhaps?”

Jinx stared at him for a moment, squinting. Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore the shadows around him darkened for a moment. “What the fuck?” she asked.

“Please refrain from such language in this place,” said the strained voice of the last Councilor to speak. Kiramman, Jinx was pretty sure. “However, I must admit this concern seems to be rather… sudden, Councilor Salo. What brought this on?”

“I apologize,” he said sheepishly, but something about his voice sounded off to Jinx. “These thoughts have weighed on my mind recently—now is not the time.”

“Right,” said Medarda, sounding distinctly suspicious. “Back to the trial, however. What shall we do with her?”

“Excuse me!” came a call, not from the Council but from the crowd. Jinx recognized the voice immediately and whipped around, making out his form in the darkness. “As her family, I would like a voice,” Viktor proclaimed, limping forward and leaning heavily on his cane. He looked even worse than he’d been last time she saw him.

“Granted,” Medarda said, able to hide her surprise but not her curiosity. “You may speak.” Jinx, on the other hand, wasn’t able to hide her surprise at all.

“Viktor?” she blurted, taking a step toward him subconsciously. “What are you doing here?”

He was close enough now that she could see him smile at her, but he didn’t answer. “My sister was only there because I asked her to be,” he said instead, addressing the Councilors. “I understand your suspicion, however it would be unjust to condemn her to any prison before sufficient evidence is found. Instead, I ask that she is released into my custody and supervision. Councilor Talis can assist me as the new head of hextech security.”

Cold fear gripped her lungs even as warmth rose in her chest, creating a dizzying dichotomy. She was supposed to go to Stillwater. But she hadn’t realized how she’d longed for someone to be on her side in this lonely chamber—really on her side, not just a strangely helpful stranger like Talis.

“Oh, now I like that!” spoke up Heimerdinger cheerily, startling Jinx. He hadn’t said anything yet, and she’d honestly forgotten he was there. “As Viktor lives on Academy grounds, I can also be of assistance! All in favor?”

Jinx started to panic as they argued, but she could tell the decision was made. The remaining opposition was posturing, putting on a show. She couldn’t even hear what they were saying, overlapping voices sounding accusatory and angry. She lifted her hands to her ears, but with her wrists cuffed, she couldn’t block out the noise.

Then, as if through silence, a new sound sliced through the chamber. A cough, wet and painful from behind her, followed by another. She turned to see Viktor, lifting a handkerchief to his lips weakly as he struggled to pull in a breath, then coughed again. Red spittle spattered the kerchief, and he sagged against his crutch, stumbling. The Council chamber faded to the background as she lurched forward, her feet carrying her from the podium and to Viktor faster than anyone could react. 

He was still coughing, his body convulsing as he fell to his knees, his eyes beginning to roll up in his head, and Jinx felt paralyzed. She didn’t even fully understand why she was so overwhelmed at the sight of his pain. He meant something to her, sure, but he wasn’t Ekko. He wasn’t Silco. She still felt like crying, her cuffed hands trying to support him as he collapsed.

“Viktor!” Jayce cried out, appearing frantically behind Jinx. “Viktor? We’ve got you. Can you breathe?”

Viktor finally stopped coughing, but he wasn’t lucid. He only groaned in response, and Jayce started barking orders. Jinx cried out as an Enforcer tried to take Viktor from her arms, and Jayce stopped him. Instead, her cuffs were removed and the Enforcer led her as she carried Viktor to a medical wagon. She didn’t have the presence of mind to be thankful or impressed that Jayce had done that for her, and her eyes stayed on Viktor’s too-pale face as they rushed him to the Hospital.

Ekko would help somehow, if he were here, she thought irrationally, frantic. She could help too. The Boy Savior was busy trying to get her out of the mess she’d created, and that meant she had to fill in. She’d save Eve, save Viktor, save Zaun. She was a Jinx, but not to them. Please, not to them.