Jinx was reminded often of the fatigue that still beset her while she concertedly plied Viktor's brazer torch, forming the three scraps of brass into the form she desired for them, the rough length of her forefinger when aligned in a row. A hot needle bore the holes needed for the hinge pins, and when she'd done that she took to his scrap pile in search of the final pieces she required.
She'd begun to feel his eyes on her as she worked, if he hadn't been watching her the entire time. He might not have appreciated how presumptive she'd been in helping herself to the contents of his makeshift workshop.
She couldn't care — she didn't have to test it to know that her trigger dexterity would be compromised by the absent digit; the difference made to her balance and grip would be like learning to shoot all over again, and she'd been getting herself almost killed enough lately…
She quickly grew irritated and turned to him.
"Didn't you have some little torsion springs in your set the last time I was here? Where'd you move 'em?" she demanded.
"Yes, well," he slowly replied, "Blitzcrank would be the reason that much of my supply has since been depleted, Miss Jinx…"
"Sure," she sighed, squinting at the robot, loudly coiling a length of heavy steel chain around a large, wooden spool. The movements were methodical and uniform in their repetition; rather a curious thing to witness, she thought.
Viktor came to stand beside her, peering down at her near-finished creation.
"To replace your finger…?" he correctly guessed.
"You think this a pretty sight, or something, Johnny-boy…?" she grumbled, holding her horridly pale, incomplete left hand up to him.
He gave it a pitying glance, before returning to her contraption in progress.
"I do have left some finer lengths of mild steel — Blitzcrank could bend the rods into your desired shape," he offered.
"Oh," she replied, "no, I mean, I can do that— they're that small…"
"Very well," he responded quietly, beginning to fetch her the materials she'd need while she sluggishly followed him over.
He presented her with a thin, sawed-off metal pipe with a narrow slot already cut into one of its ends. "Here— this to wind it around, and, well, Blitzcrank fetched me this floor vice earlier today," he said, "it should allow you some precision, at least."
The rod he brought to her was barely thicker than a wire — perfect for her purpose. She began to wonder whether Silco had ever tried to poach this guy for work.
Viktor continued to watch her, while she set on her task. It unnerved her, a little — did he think she was doing it wrong, or something?
He spoke after some few moments. "How old are you, Miss Jinx… if you don't mind my asking?"
"Well, every year my hair grows about six inches, and I haven't cut it since I was… I don't know, ten, or something," she shrugged.
"Is that so?" he replied, with some interest in his tone. "And it seems now that you will find yourself tripping on it, should it grow any longer."
"I guess." She paused briefly. "Why do you ask…?"
"Oh, you merely have me reminiscing on something… well, in the place where I studied, a tutor I once knew; an impressive mind," he regaled, "I imagine that if he had ever come upon you, discovered your talents, that, given your age, well, I'm sure he'd have felt quite compelled to convince into becoming his protégé, just as he had for me…"
"What the hell's a protégé…?" she scoffed, completing the first spring and setting it aside.
"One who is mentored by another, more learned mind, so that they may perhaps more easily realize their latent potential," he replied.
She wondered where he might have been going with this.
"…Was he the one that convinced you to turn yourself all purple-y?" she remarked.
He paused at the question. "No— he vehemently advised against it, in fact…"
She held off for a moment. "Well, you built him without any mentor's advice, right?" she said, nodding over at Blitzcrank, who seemed to be scanning his surrounding area for some further manual task to begin working at.
"Well, yes," he said thoughtfully. "In fact, I may have you to credit for the spark the set me down that path…"
He surprised her by pulling out the wind-up monkey toy that she'd made and had brought to him at the outset of her previous visit — it seemed that her craftsmanship had become a curiosity of his in the interim, given that the wind-up mechanism on the toy's back was partially disassembled and missing its key, with the fabric around the area pulled back as though the monkey were in the process of being flayed.
It was an amusing sight, but she had to wonder what significance it held.
"The toy truly only served for some inspiration," he went on, "but I used to design watch mechanisms, during my free time in my early years of study, and the basic proposition of their design is very much the same as the monkey, as a matter of fact."
She realized what he was getting at before he'd concluded with his explanation. "You're saying you have to wind him up for him to work?"
It was the first time she saw him smile, even if only a little.
"Yes, well, the notion had seemed… odd, when I conceived of it," he said, "however, the size of its frame allowed for rather a large mainspring to be placed inside — I calculated that Blitzcrank could operate for roughly ten hours before the all of the tension will have released and the mainspring needing to be re-wound."
She stepped before the golden metal golem, waiting for him to react to her.
His head clicked and spun in her direction as she was noticed, emitting a brief torrent of steam from the space between its head and neck.
"How come he steams, then?" she wondered.
"Only a crude cooling mechanism for the fast-spinning gears," he answered from behind her. "It requires me to refill the water reservoir each time he's re-wound."
Blitzcrank's glowing, white eyes were mismatched in size, as though Viktor had used simply used the heads of whatever lightbulbs he could dig out of the junkyard table-lamps he'd managed to get his hands on.
The machine tilted his head downward. "GIRL IS MISSING A PART," spoke his rumbling, metallic voice.
She glanced down at her bandaged hand, presuming it to be the subject of his reference.
"No, that ain't it," she smirked, waggling it in front of him, "I just haven't grown all mine yet — humans are born all stumps, didn't you know that?"
The brass golem tilted his head. "IF HUMANS ARE BORN ALL STUMPS, THEN ROBOTS ARE BUILT ALL GEARS."
To her further surprise, he then growled out a chattering sound that she figured was akin to laughter.
She spun around to look at Viktor. "You gave him a sense of humor?!"
He wandered toward them both, seeming just as startled as she was. "No… I did not…"
She turned back to Blitzcrank, grinning. "You got any more'a them, big guy?"
"MMMMMMM," he sounded after a moment. "I PUT THE 'GO' IN GOLEM." Robotic laughter boomed once more.
"How strange…" Viktor remarked.
"I'll say," she guffawed, leaving their company to finally complete the work she'd started, while Viktor tinkered around with his misbehaving machine.
The prosthetic finger was completed when she slid in a pair of hinge-pins at each of the joints, and affixed it to a small plate which would then bolt into bone; the latter of which she hoped with all her heart would hurt less than the original severing...
She just needed it done, so that she could get back to Isha — the kid was probably restless as all hell; Jinx remembered a time when she certainly had been, in a similar instance, waiting on somebody to return with no end in sight…
She hoped as well that the place in which Silco had promised to keep her was as safe as he'd claimed, if any place in Zaun could in fact be considered safe now…
She'd clearly found that out the hard way herself — she pictured Silco having all of those manning The Last Drop the night she'd been taken killed, should they not have been able to point him immediately to her captors, and even then he might still have offed them just for the lack of competence. She recalled witnessing that fury of his only a handful of times, usually in response to brutish men becoming pushy with her, but as she grew through her teenage years so did she give such men equal cause to fear her fury, just as they'd learned to fear Silco's.
But then there would of course always be the odd few that took the reputation she'd earned as a challenge, Smeech being the latest in the line.
She savored the prospect of teaching him what it felt like to regret such a thing — she desired to retrieve both Zapper and Fishbones and then to give him a sampling of both…
Or maybe she'd let Garou have him — something inside her told her that he'd be able to do far worse to the ugly fuzzball…
She oddly remembered wishing on his safety, as he floated off to breach Stillwater, knowing that he wouldn't need her wishes; he was stronger than anybody she'd ever met, probably more so even than her sister…
But, she only had her memory to go off of, there…
Could Garou have found her? She couldn't shake the thought that maybe it had been him, the stir in the night that had struck fear in her during her daring escape, when she'd come upon her young guard's body, all hacked to pieces… it was difficult to imagine who or what else would have had reason to come after Smeech and his crew in such a moment… was it possible that was Garou's fury…?
She supposed she'd not yet seen such a side of him like she had Silco, if it even existed; was it something everybody had inside them? She didn't really want to try to imagine what she'd be driven to if all three people she cared about most were suddenly taken from her…
She looked down at her ravaged finger again. The bandage was stuck with dried blood when she peeled it off.
She tried to occupy her mind with the oddly jovial robot's comedy routine to distract from the sting, dousing the gaping wound once more with the bottle of alcohol Viktor had left for her. With gritted teeth, she aligned the reamer tool over the exposed bone.
She breathed heavily, in and out, but her courage never came. She flinched in surprise as Viktor wandered up behind her, witnessing the attempt.
"You… perhaps ought bite down on something, Miss Jinx…" he suggested, concern infiltrating his tone.
She sighed drearily, feeling tears well up in her eyes again.
"Would you… do the twisting, Viktor? Please…?" she whispered. "I just… I don't think I can…"
"Of course," he replied, gently placing a clean rag in her other hand. "Pain, it… it hardly ever becomes easier…"
His fingers hovered over the alcohol bottle, before he picked it up and held it to her.
"I… don't imagine it to be a wise partaking in combination with Shimmer, but it may dull the sensation…"
She nodded and took a short swig of the stuff. It was quite the kick compared to how it tasted mixed up with other colorful concoctions the way that Chuck made drinks at The Last Drop, and even then she'd only ever drunk it on accident.
She twitched her head following the aftertaste, before folding up the rag he'd handed her and stuffing it between her teeth. She watched him slowly line up and then touch the end of the reamer to the cross-sectioned finger bone, causing pain to fire through her body even before he'd begun.
Her jaw clamped shut in a white heat, with the rag barely stifling her tortured outcry when the reamer began to dig a hole in her. While her focus was scattered into a fiery conflagration of agony, she could appreciate Viktor's proficiency at the task; she trusted that he took each painful angle with precision, and when he removed the tool she was certain that he'd carried out the task more quickly than she ever could have.
The finger clicked down via a plate bolt, and then it was done. She collapsed into the chair upon which she sat, sweating and panting, while Viktor used the rag that caught her screams to dab away at some of the weeping fluids that remained.
She eventually gained the strength to tilt the hand up and give it all a look-over.
"I should kill them all…" she muttered.
Viktor paused. "Why do you suppose they did this to you…?"
She gave him a curt glance. "Ah, just… disgruntled wastes of space, upset with decisions my—"
She caught herself. "Decisions that somebody I know made… and, I guess right now they'll probably be wondering where I am — I've been gone a day now… I needa go back and get some weapons…"
"Weapons of your own design… yes?" Viktor asked.
Jinx had stood up, readying herself to leave. "Uh, yeah…?"
He hummed thoughtfully. "And you plan to fight them…? To fight Piltover?"
What's his deal, all of a sudden…?
She shrugged. "Better than… laying your head in the sand, or whatever they say…"
"I don't believe those to be the only two choices, Miss Jinx," he remarked, curiously. "I believe we can lift Zaun into something even better than Piltover, in fact — a war with them will only set us further away from such a goal."
She crinkled her nose a little. "That's your plan…?"
He held on her eyes, his own twinkling with purple to match the strange, shimmering dermis which crept up his neck.
"You could help me," he said. "Don't you think your talents are squandered, being battered and broken while you claw and struggle over some meagre slice in the underbelly of this city, when you could be capable of so much, with that mind of yours…?"
For a moment her lips refused to move, but she shook her head. He didn't know what he was talking about; he didn't know anything about her...
"I've uh, got… y'know, people I needa know are safe, so… I should probably go now," she said. "Tell Blitzcrank I said bye."
She shuffled awkwardly.
"And thanks for, um… for this," she added, raising her now whole-again hand.
He nodded, but sadly. "Be safe, Miss Jinx…"
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
Is this where I'm going to die…?
Dust sifted eerily through the frayed wooden boards of the floor above, agitating as boots stomped across them, granting her hope that she might receive a meal, or a drink of water, or even better, to be able to eavesdrop a conversation between her guards. The whispers she'd pieced together led her to believe that something was happening out there, though she could not quite determine what, and she'd grown wary of talking herself into hoping again.
She'd all but given up attempting to tally the days in her head; the comfort of her own bed felt like a lifetime ago.
Caitlyn closed her eyes again. The only solace she'd been finding as of late was in her dreams, where she'd relive her time in marksmanship academy in the Green District, all those years back. There was a woman's face she recalled; a distinct-sounding voice, too.
"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" she'd been asked.
It would merely be for her own survival, now… but what was her survival worth? If the twin cities were now at each other's throats, as the whispers led her to suspect, it was hard to imagine it anyone's fault but hers; she knew that her mother and father would be both willing and able to move mountains to see her safe… only, moving this particular mountain would invite destruction and casualty on a scale Caitlyn could hardly bear to think about.
It would stain her conscience for the remainder of whatever life it bought…
She wished she could only communicate it to them, from across the river, that she was sorry, that she was willing to reap the consequences for disobeying them, even if it meant never seeing either of them again.
I'm not worth it…
Only a single tear fell. She told herself it was the last one she had left; she'd find no justice earning the pity of her captors.
As she stilled, it occurred to her that the room above her had fallen silent.
She glanced up at the underside of the floorboards, at the slivers of light they permitted between them, swearing she could make out a shadow in the outline of a person, only one that lay prone and motionless…
A thud, and another shadow joined its partner.
She expected that someone would cry out, but it all happened without breath or utterance, as though she were witnessing a silent play.
A key jangled, before being inserted into the other side of the door.
Caitlyn witnessed a slender, hooded figure slip inside, before promptly shutting the entry behind her in measured manner.
She watched with trepidation as they approached, reaching out with long, black gloves whose fingers found the buckle of her restraints. She met the woman's sapphire eyes as she unbound her.
"Caitlyn Kiramman," the woman spoke, in an accent that reminded her of home. "It's high time you left this place."
~~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~
Her restlessness had payed off, it seemed, as she sat waiting on the last of Silco's goons to clear out of the strange, walled-off place.
She hoped that the note she'd left Cheese at his bedpost would explain everything well enough, such that if she perished he wouldn't come trying to avenge her. He deserved his life, his freedom; if anybody did it was him. Despite being out of Stillwater, Vi didn't have her freedom yet, at least not really; not while Powder was still out there alone and at risk…
She slowly crept out from concealment. Silco and Sevika had certainly left the place after all of the ruckus was over; she'd seen them, but they hadn't found Powder here, if that was indeed the purpose of their visit and subsequent raid of the place. Silco had stormed out looking furious, which would have brought Vi comfort if not for the cause of it being that Powder was still missing.
Was it really possible that he cared for her wellbeing…?
The thought sickened her, and she swore it as absurd; no, he surely only used her for her talents, forcing her to make all manner of contraptions for him to use against his enemies. It was a despicable concept, given how Vi remembered the hopeful spark in Powder's eyes whenever she created something she was proud of. Vi had shared her sister's pride in such moments, too; Silco could never hope to have that with her…
All that gave her optimism in her current task was the fact that she had neither seen Garou leave the place. Given that he parted from her in order to join up with Silco, she found it likely that she'd find him inside.
She couldn't ignore what Ekko had told her — how he seemed to think that the two of them were together. Like, together together. It was a little difficult to imagine her sister having grown into an adult in the time since they'd last spoken, but she supposed she was one, now; the eleven-year-old she once knew was only a memory.
And she'd found herself a lover, if that's what it was. Vi believed it, in hindsight — all Garou had continued to tell her was that he was searching for a girl named "Blue," and she now understood that he'd been referring to Powder all along.
Vi was less sure of his character, of course — his ferocity in combat seemed underpinned by some unstable kind of rage and callousness that she found a little frightening, but the fact that Powder's safety was a priority of his at least meant that they were aligned by goal.
Some movement in Vi's periphery suddenly caught her eye.
Oh… why did he bring you here…?
It was the little child Garou had brought along with him, after having come upon The Last Drop. She clambered with her small feet out from inside what looked to be an emptied, abandoned store where she must have been hiding, waiting for it all to be over just like Vi had.
The girl spotted her as Vi crept cautiously over toward her. She stepped backward anxiously, her expression ridden with uncertainty.
"Hey, whoa, whoa— not here to hurt you, kiddo. Remember me?" Vi spoke calmly and with a friendly tone. "You were being pretty safe there until about a second ago, I was real impressed."
It seemed to earn the little girl's trust, but no words escaped her mouth, just as before. Instead, she proceeded toward the entrance of the open gate to the place, glancing back at Vi to ensure that she was being escorted.
The child was a curiosity to her too, as it sounded as though she knew Powder. Was she some sort of sibling to Garou? They certainly didn't look alike…
Vi breathed in sharply as she took in the grisly sight of bodies laying everywhere. She hurried up to the girl to pull her close, and attempt to hide her from having to look at all of the blood.
She didn't know where to begin looking. She hoped with all her heart that Powder hadn't had to be anywhere near all of this carnage, that maybe she'd been somewhere else this entire time…
The kid suddenly broke out of her hold, running off in the direction of one of the corpses for some unknown reason.
"Hey—! What are you—?" she called out, catching up to her after a moment.
The air got caught in Vi's throat when she saw him; she couldn't even gasp.
The kid stepped through the red pool to place a hand on him, vocalizing distress at his motionless state.
Garou's once white hair was drenched in his own blood, painting it a dark crimson.
Vi grew increasingly wary wondering what could even have done this to him…
"Kiddo— we've gotta go, okay?" she pleaded. "I'm sorry, but you're not safe here…"
The girl turned and leapt forward to hold against Vi's leg, when Garou's body did nothing in response to her prods and touches besides remain still.
"I'll take you back with me, to my other friend you met, okay?" she said. "C'mon."
The girl was having none of it, weeping and pulling her on a different direction once they'd passed through the gate.
"Why—?" Vi protested. "What's that way…?"
The girl gave no answer that Vi could discern, besides possibly having something to do with a bed.
She allowed the girl to lead, but tear found Vi's eye as everything began to hit her at once, having had to watch the poor girl lose her friend; somebody that was also Powder's…
'She needs me now, more than ever…' she steeled herself.
They came upon a strange entry door; the little girl seemed very cautious of it, refusing to make any decisive move in opening it. She instead was peering about the seams of the door.
"What's the matter?" Vi wondered, but of course the girl's explanation was difficult for Vi to parse.
"Just— stand behind me, okay?" she ordered, pulling the girl back and proceeding to open the thing, despite her silent protests.
Vi did notice something amiss as they stepped through — a cable, cut partway lay spooled on the ground, leading up to a small canister which mounted to the hinge. The canister had a pink 'X' on it…
Vi heard a heavy switch pulled, and she turned to see the child having had activated a set of lights, which dotted their way down.
The girl pushed forward, taking Vi into the cave that lay below; a cave that looked like it may have been somebody's home, with a workbench littered with items at its centre, a couch, a bathtub, a mattress on the floor… and the whole setup rested on an enormous, dormant turbine that looked to have served some purpose in the days of the old Fissure mines.
Vi stepped down onto one of the great steel blades, while the child fretted about checking every nook and cranny of the cluttered layout.
She couldn't help but notice the colorful markings which decorated almost every surface; spray-paint of the colors blue, pink, green…
So suddenly did it dawn on her, like being hit by a brick, that she almost lost her balance — she understood now why the child had brought her here…
"Hey, kiddo—" she began, as the lights suddenly went dark.
Uh…
She could barely see in front of her well enough not to fall from the edge, but the rustle of movement from behind her told her that she needed to move.
Vi spun around, more confident with the kid being behind her. She raised her fists, listening out for the approaching attacker, but she could detect nothing all of a sudden.
A draught of air was pulled in through the cave, sending a shiver down her neck while she coiled her muscles, readying for a fight.
A faint tick echoed through the chasm. Vi craned her head at it, before it amplified into a squeaking, metallic chatter. It was behind her.
As she turned, her senses told her that something sped her way, causing her to flinch to the side. She felt the moving air grace her skin as the object sailed narrowly past her, before stunning her ears with a boom.
She gained a glimpse at her adversary during the pink flash of light…
Vi's confusion led her to being slow on the draw as the figure charged her, slipping past Vi's half-given punch and sweeping her legs from under her. She braced as she fell, but felt the figure slide over the top of her, pinning most of her limbs.
But she didn't struggle.
A flame burst forth from a small, brass torch, igniting with a click from the girl on top of her.
Vi took in her face as the girl studied her in return; the dark, heavy makeup shrouding her eyes and lips, the nicks and scratches and dirt and long, braided hair could hardly hide the wide, frightened blue eyes that she knew to belong to her little sister.
"Vi…?" she whimpered.