She'd resorted to biting down on her tongue as a way of distracting herself from the pain.
Her blood tasted sweet — sweeter than what little she could imagine, in that moment… perhaps even sweeter than her fantasy of what she'd do to her wretched captor were her restraints loosened and Zapper placed back in her hand.
The fuzzball turned to her, bristling, prattling the same nonsense he had been those past few hours — how he'd always get what he wanted eventually; how people who counted him out ended up dead; yada yada…
His mouth and teeth looked grotesque in motion.
"…I wonder how you'd hold up as a rug?" Jinx muttered at him with snide disregard, her voice hoarse from fatigue. "There ain't much of you — maybe you could go in the bathroom, or something…"
Her insults didn't seem to be original enough to land in the way she'd hoped, but she'd nevertheless sensed the Yordle's temperament cracking if but a little, as the hours passed without him extracting even an iota of information of any use from her. She'd begun to wonder how much of it he'd be willing to withstand before giving up and simply killing her.
Her stump of a finger pulsed with pain as Smeech closed in on her.
"Say, braids," he snarled, "I'd say we're almost overdue for another round of finger-chop roulette — wha'da you think?"
She supposed the only part of it all that truly surprised her was that all of these creeps used to fear Silco enough that none would dare act out so brazenly, least of all like this...
The order of things seemed to be changing, on top of everything else that was going on, and she couldn't help but wonder how much of it was her fault…
She hadn't ever really given much thought to the things that Silco scolded her for from time to time, provided that she could get him to forgive her before long, or perhaps even convince him that whatever she'd done was to his benefit.
If the hours of torture had forced her to grapple with anything, it was the idea that perhaps it had been a mistake, after all — Hextech, the lot of it…
"Knock yourself out…" she murmured back.
The room's attention snapped over to the loud creaking of the vault door swinging open. A pair of steel stilettos caught Jinx's eye as the person they belonged to stormed inside.
"What the fuck is all of this…?!" uttered the feather-coated Chem-Baron with hostile bewilderment.
Smeech appeared to actually straighten up in her presence, curiously enough.
"Hey— Renni," he spoke back, forcing a false charm into his voice. "Nice of ya to pop in… my men and I are kinda busy is all, so we were hoping for a little—"
"—Privacy?!" Renni snapped. "Is that what you were about to say? Do you have any idea of the kind of talk happening out there? …What in the hell are you doing with her?!"
He gave Jinx a curt glance.
"Nobody's actually gonna be missin' her besides the big man himself," he blustered, "and I'd dare say he's got his hands full at the moment."
Renni's incredulity only intensified.
"You really think that…?" she glared. "You beat her bloody, cut her up, and dragged her here, under my roof— my son is here, you little rat. This is how you spit on my hospitality…?!"
"Listen— I'm a hair away from gettin' her to talk here," he yapped, "soon as she does—"
"No— you're done. This is done," she cut in. "You, all of your guys, up to the house — it's time we had a talk, or so help me, I'll sic the Chemtanks on you all. My men will watch her in the meantime."
Smeech sighed impatiently, but acquiesced. "Sure, Renni— let's chat…"
Jinx haggardly observed Renni have Smeech's crew swapped out for her own, and the Yordle stomp out in the strange, lurching fashion via his robotic limbs that Jinx couldn't figure she'd ever get used to.
"Vincent—" Renni muttered at one of the younger ones. "See to your other duties before the night is done, as well…"
The young grunt issued his boss a begrudging nod before she marched from the vault, heels clacking under her long coat.
'Silence…' Jinx winced with a little relief, her head slumping down while the men charged with watching her stood about awkwardly.
"I ain't goin' near her," she heard one of them mutter under their breath, "you keep an eye on her— vault door'll be unlocked, just holler if she tries anything."
"Fine…" she heard the younger one sigh.
Jinx only wished she could somehow get some rest — she'd never really figured out how to sleep in uncomfortable positions the way Sevika seemed to be able to.
She felt the air turn still again, as the door slowly swung shut. The younger grunt in the room with her leant against the wall, seemingly as far away from her as he could manage.
All she could think to do was to attempt to pass the time, so that she might simply collapse into unconsciousness, or something…
"…How am I gonna hurt you if I'm all bound up by these restraints, huh…?" she quietly drawled, guessing at the reason for his demeanor.
She sighed and allowed her heavy eyelids to slip shut when he gave little response, but then heard him shift uncomfortably after a moment.
"Do you… need some water, or something…?" His voice was meek, but he began to pour her a glass from the nearby sink.
He stepped over to her uneasily. She couldn't much hide how parched she was, leaning forward with her lips parted, and flashing impatience with her eyes when he didn't immediately hold the glass up to her. He seemed like he was gawking at her, instead.
"—Sorry…" he said, finally helping her quench her thirst.
She found herself panting by the time the glass was empty, and she still tasted blood. She spat some of it out near the guy's foot.
He seemed to flinch from her anxiously.
"Thanks, I guess…" she muttered at him. Her face felt so heavy that she thought she might start sobbing in front of him.
Part of her wanted to wonder where Smeech had gone and put the finger he lopped from her hand…
"How… old are you, even…?" the grunt named 'Vincent' wondered aloud.
She hadn't much interest in entertaining him. Though, it was her turn to flinch as she felt him gently prod the blood-soaked gauze folded over her dismembered finger.
"Do you wanna fucking die…?!" she shot at him, with the little energy she had.
"Oh— sorry, I just," he stammered, "we should probably get this changed, so that it won't fester…?"
She subjected him to a glare with her blood-shot eyes.
"What does it matter…?" she grumbled.
"I—" he began, "I… don't think Renni will kill you…"
She thought for a moment, supposing that it might indeed be true.
"…Better than losing the whole hand, you know?" he offered, attempting to infect her with optimism for a reason that was well beyond her.
"Fine…" she conceded, beginning to feel even queasier than before.
She eyed him as he returned to the door to request the materials he'd need to perform the wound-care.
"Uh…" he paused as he returned, wheeling over a small stool with him. "If I let your hand out, are you…?"
"—Gonna try to strangle you?" she finished the thought. "Might be a bit difficult for me, now…"
He seemingly decided to press forward without paying her comment any mind, partially untying her and peeling the sticky gauze away, causing her to wince.
All things considered, he was rather gentle with her as he worked, though his hands trembled.
"What is it about me that gets everybody so nervous, huh…?" she complained.
"Oh— I'm not, I, uh…" he began, before seemingly abandoning the thought.
He quickly reached behind him, retrieving a pocket knife. He used it to cut off the new length of dressing, before re-clasping it to the back of his belt.
She came to a decision, after a moment.
"Y'know… it's, uh," she said softly, "it's a little overwhelming, being shown kindness like this, after everything they've done to me…" She hadn't ever had much practice at what she was attempting, but she'd certainly seen other girls do it before…
The guy was almost finished, but he looked up at her, instead.
"Oh— uh, it's okay, I—" he puzzled.
"You're just… you're really gentle, thank you…" she added, with a sniffle.
He seemed to become frozen for a moment, so she gave a nod in the direction of the bandage tape.
"—Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, finishing up.
She waited until he was about to stand, before wrapping her free hand around his wrist.
"You… couldn't spare a change of clothes for me, do you…?" she whispered pleadingly, gently tugging him closer. "I'm just… I'm a little cold..."
"I, uh— well, I could maybe get—" he stammered, staring at her nervously.
"I— if it's just you and me… I won't mind if you dress me…" she continued, in an injured tone.
He halted for a moment as she said it, before tearing his gaze away and looking out at the vault door.
"Uh— no, I don't…" he said awkwardly, "I don't think that's a good idea…"
He didn't seem to realize immediately that she'd released his arm from her grip.
The room fell silent without intervention by either of them, before he remembered that he needed to re-bind her. He fumbled with the knot a few times before getting it right.
He then hurriedly packed his materials away and marched toward the exit, presenting the other two guards with a convincing explanation as to why he needed to change shifts with them.
Jinx exhaled, relapsing into biting her tongue as the pain from her wound returned.
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
"I don't know what any of your damn sign language means— I can't bring you there with me," he argued, while Isha pleaded against his wishes. "If you watched these guys take Blue down, then they're serious business, aight? You ain't strong enough, kid—"
She surprised him by thrusting her palms at him, squatted down before her. He quickly hopped his other foot backward to prevent himself from losing balance.
"Hey—" Garou shot back sternly, "I stopped the old man from selling you to that other dude— want me to take you back? Eh?!"
She turned on the waterworks, but without breaking down sobbing. She only looked angrier than ever.
Seemed like she had a right to be, he supposed…
He grunted in irritation, grasping at her hand and hoisting her upon his back again, while she kicked at him.
"Whatever— just quit blamin' me for everything, alright?" he called at her, setting off again. "And if you go gettin' in the way, then I won't be able to save Blue — got it…?"
He felt a nod against his shoulder, so he let the issue rest.
'Still would've been simpler to leave her with the damn bartender," he grumbled to himself.
The folks around the city that he passed by looked equal parts panicked and rowdy. He respected the look in the eyes of those that seemed like they wanted to fight, even if it was farcical — the underdog never won anything… It was true elsewhere, too — the people of Ionia lived under the stranglehold of a more populous region, without recourse. He bitterly remembered being made by his master to swear against attempting to do anything about it, some years before he'd decided to leave — self-preservation to the exclusion of all else could only get you so far…
He wouldn't have been surprised if the whole world was all just the same tale, over and over again, no matter where one went…
It only needed somebody strong enough to end it. To let a new tale be told…
He found himself absent-mindedly flexing his knuckles again.
Isha suddenly gave a tug of his hair as an airship whirled up above them, creeping through the sky like a Bilgewater whale would underneath a sailing vessel.
They'd have to have been close now, he thought — approaching from the Alcove district, as the spectacled geezer had said.
He let out a breath.
Blue…
It was hard to suppress the feeling that he might not find her as she'd left him. He wasn't sure what he'd do about that…
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
Mold had found its way into the cistern again.
A small utility closet adjacent to the armory held the dwindling bag of chalk Vincent would add into the frothy mixture in order to return it to a drinkable state. Or, at least attempt to…
His boss' crew would notice if the task were neglected — everybody seemed to have taken to hunkering down while Piltover went ahead with whatever it was they planned to do. Renni's stance seemed steadfastly in favor of allowing Silco and those aligned with him to take the brunt of Topside's fury, and not to allow herself, or her operation to be put in the crossfire.
Not that those deliberations were of any concern to a low-ranking grunt such as himself…
A cloud of powdered chalk puffed out of the mouth of the bag as Vincent hoisted it up against his chest, causing him to cough. The closet shuttered, he skipped past the Chemtank armory with his eyes set forward, as he typically did — the rows of those vacant souls trapped in metal suits unnerved him some. And that wasn't even factoring the big one…
The musty stench penetrated his nostrils before he'd even let open the hatch on the brick water tank — they were all lucky to have been surviving on the stuff in such a state…
He tipped the bag over the opening. There was scant left in it before he was satisfied, and he didn't dare stop mixing until it had all completely dissolved. The chalk usually did the trick, at least for a while, though it was best not to think about such things when filling one's cup, he figured.
It had been an exceedingly long night, and from what he could tell based on Renni's muttering and ranting, Smeech and his crew were near overstaying their welcome.
Vincent hadn't ever really laid eyes upon Jinx before, or, Silco's littledemolition diva, as Renni sometimes derisively named her, among other things… He supposed he'd never have thought bruised, bloody and maimed would have been his first impression of the figure whose reputation in the Undercity was so potent — known as a deadly destroyer; a name to whisper in the dark in order to spook people.
Though, the few words they had shared did plenty to remind him of why he'd rather not ever find himself at that girl's mercy. Even getting as physically close to her as he had…
He brushed away the feeling. It was why, despite the grunt-work, it was worthwhile serving in a crew. Protection in numbers, and all that…
Perhaps it explained Renni's outrage over the discovery that she had unknowingly been hosting such an inciting prisoner — they'd have Silco's entire militia upon them before long, if word got out...
Vincent reached for the knife hooked to his back belt-loop in order to mark the date in the brick, but found himself grasping at air.
He furrowed his brow — he usually wasn't so scatterbrained as to leave it behind. He paused, slowly pondering through several locations whereby he might have left it.
He shook his head after a moment, resigning himself to backtracking steps once his nightly tasks were done.
Instead, he reached out with his thumb, and gave a crude attempt at it with his nail, the way he used to when he was a kid, pushing its edge into the brick to make a shallow impression. It would be legible enough for his purpose.
He cursed, pulling back and examining the split he caused from pressing too hard. A small amount of blood oozed — not worth licking clean.
Little prickles of cold air graced the back of his neck as he leant over to collect the depleted bag of chalk, making him shiver. He supposed the sun would be rising soon. A glance around Renni's makeshift compound revealed little in the way of ascertaining the time of night — her other guards would only swap shifts at dawn-break.
A chill crept up Vincent's spine once more as he trudged around the side of the armory, out of sight from the rest of the compound. It was an uncanny feeling, as the air was otherwise still.
Suddenly, unconscious to his own thoughts, his ears had become incredibly attentive to the sounds around him. It only left him feeling unnerved — what was it that had his senses so perturbed?
He whipped his head around instinctively, chalk-bag still in hand.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Nonsense…
The utility closet lay before him — other tasks awaited, before he could sleep.
A crunch from behind him caused him to repeat the motion, dropping the bag to his feet on this occasion.
He stood, frozen, while a pair of golden eyes peered at him through the shadows.
Moving his body by even an inch felt like an impossible effort in that moment.
Whatever the golden eyes belonged to exhaled with a guttural tenor, and sunk down, low to the ground.
It may have been preparing to move in on him — Vincent would not wait to find out, stumbling backward over his own feet as he suddenly regained the faculty to move.
If running had been an option, he didn't run nearly fast enough — the muscles in his face contracted the skin tight as he felt the creature's breath in his ear. It had all happened in the blink of an eye…
Brass, sharpened into razors, adorned blue fur. Its claws were the last thing Vincent would ever see.