The man sat in a soft chair, sipping his afternoon tea. His windows were thrown open like doors, welcoming the cool breeze. His two-story apartment was one of the finest in Piltover, and his wallet certainly felt it. At least it would have, if he had paid for it with his own money. He smirked slightly as he recalled the memory, of an Ionian noble loaning him the money with the intent of opening a lucrative venture here in Piltover. He wondered if the noble ever caught on. It wasn't likely. Ionians were incredibly pacifist; even if he did find out, he wouldn't do anything. Only repeat a few of the empty platitudes that had been drilled into his head from birth and carry on with his life.
Probably why they needed help to rid themselves of Noxus. He thought as he pulled up a newspaper and started reading.
The neighboring building was dark, completely void of life. Scheduled for destruction and prompt replacement the next morning, the building was cut off from the power grid in preparation. It was a lovely audience box. He was ready for the show to begin.
Khada Jhin crouched in the darkness. He adjusted Whisper again, making perfectly sure that its aim would be true. He had but one chance. One chance to make this man art.
His cartridge was full; this was his first bullet. The first glob of paint from where his art would flow was lovingly crafted, sheathed with gold with articulate design. It was Summer, the dawn of his performance. A golden drop of sunlit beauty.
He breathed softly, lowering his heartbeat and preparing himself for the moment. The final, beautiful moments of his canvas's life. He breathed again, and whispered a soft instruction to his puppet. "You will dance to my song, and it will be beautiful."
He squeezed the trigger, and time seemed to slow as his golden sunrise shone upon the man's body. He watched, his breath stolen as always. Fiery novas sparked, danced across the man's chest as he flew back on wings of fire. The novas blossomed into the articulate, beautiful patterns of the Ionian Fireblossoms as embers flaked from the demon's skin.
His performance was cut short by a deafening boom that ripped the stage apart, showing the Virtuoso with dust and debris. He was thrown back, bewildered by the sudden stop in the performance. He got to his feet quickly, and looked with dismay as the building in front of him was largely destroyed and crumbling as he watched.
"Those fools!" He said sharply, aloud as he picked up Whisper and wiped the dust from the instrument. "Did they mix up the building and the time!" He paused. "No." He muttered to himself as he gathered himself. "Piltover is home of many things, gaudy weaponry among them. But one thing they do not have is inaccurate paperwork. I was upstaged. But by whom?" He detached his cane from Whisper, and affixed it to his belt.
Refolding the cartridges in his shoulder pad into something acceptable, he threw his vest back over it and left the building.
Jinx watched with glee as the building toppled over with a deafening roar, showering dust all over the streets below.
"WOO!" She shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "Only took one shot!" The awesome destruction of the building was soon drowned out by the obnoxious blaring of sirens. With a shrug she pulled out Pow-Pow and started firing recklessly the second the cop cars pulled around the bend.
Obviously surprised by the suspect outright attacking them instead of running, the cars swerved frantically as the drivers ducked beneath the shattered windshields. Jinx stopped firing and starting running towards the spinning cars. Following instructions as her brain came up with them, she leaped on top of the first car she encountered. Her boots clanged on the car, and she screamed with joy as she was spun around and around, her blue braids flying around like helicopter blades.
She jumped off the distraught vehicle and tumbled with an audible "ow" onto the hard street as the cars careened into the ruined building and promptly exploded.
She rolled to her feet and inspected the scene. "Pretty cool if I do say so myself, right Fishbones?"
She grabbed Fishbones and voiced his thoughts. "Oh gee, it was kinda cool but also very dangerous. You probably hurt those poor-"
"Can it Fishbones." Jinx snapped with a sigh. "Why do I think you'll change? You should be more like Pow-Pow. He understands that this is fun. Didn't you think destroying that building was fun?"
"You!" A different voice that was definitely not Fishbones spoke. There was a harsh and self-important tone in his voice, and Jinx's violet eyes snapped to the speaker, a tall man in a white vest. Was he part robot? Her eyes widened when she noticed the mask that he wore, a white one with a... smile on it? "How dare you interrupt my work? It was perfect! You ruined it with your insufferable-"
"Hey how are you talking without your lips moving?" She asked suddenly.
The man paused, puzzled for a second. "It's a ma-"
"Well duh, of course it is." Jinx interrupted with an eyeroll as she hefted Fishbones onto her back and pulling out Pow-Pow for a lighter load. "You honestly think I don't know what masks are? Pfft."
The man paused again. "Excuse me?"
Jinx tilted her head as she studied him closer. "Hey you're not from Snooze-ville are you? Cool. Hey maybe you know how to have fun. What's your name Mask-Dude?" She asked, interrupting his every attempt to answer.
The man waited a second, gesturing and asking "May I speak?"
Jinx shrugged. "Yeah sure."
The man began, but a officer threw open the door of his wreck and collapsed from the effort. Jinx whirled on the copper, filling him to the brim with bullets. She turned back to the man and smiled. "Sorry about that, he won't interrupt you again. Trust me."
Jhin watched as the young woman swiftly dispatched the hapless officer. Crude. He thought. There is no heart in it. Regardless, she understood the beauty of death, even if it was to a apprentice's degree, so he felt he should be polite. He gave a theatrical bow and said, "My name is Jhin, virtuoso and artist."
To his dismay, the girl looked crestfallen. "Oh, you're one of those boring types that mess around with paint and stuff? Oh well, been nice knowing you, gonna go blow stuff up now." She turned on her heels and walked away.
Jhin's eyes narrowed. So she misunderstands. What of it? He turned to walk away as well, but something compelled him to turn around and watch her for a moment longer.
She walked to the corner, then immediately turned and fired several rockets into the nearest building. Jhin looked at the spectacle, mildy entertained, even amused. So she destroys for the sake of it. Coarse. He wrote it off until the young woman turned around to run out of the impending blast radius, and he caught a full on view of her face.
It was breathtaking. There was passion there, a cruel fire that burned within those violet eyes of hers. His mouth went agape in understanding. She didn't destroy just for the sake of it, she destroyed because it was her passion-no, her drive. It was her art, the marks she left on the world, the moments where she felt truly alive.
Jhin understood all too well. She was in a performance of her own devising, she was the playwright and the performer. She even fashioned her own stage. The show of chaos, in a stage of order.
His grip on his weapon tightened with awe. He was a genius for sure, a pioneer ahead of his time. But he could only make so much of an impact. He could admit that even his finest work could not light up a city. But this young woman, she had the sky as her canvas and society itself as her paint. She performed on a larger scale that even Jhin found impressive. He performed with order, purpose. Staging all of his shows ahead of time, making his puppets dance to the music of orchestrated death. It was supposed to be perfect. But he understood that perfection came from both order and disorder, chaos and harmony. Both working in tandem for the perfect performance.
For what was order without chaos? What was purity without impurity?
He had tried to be both. For so long he was the Golden Demon, an performer of chaos, or so he hoped. But no matter how he tried, his passion prevented him from being a true disciple of chaos. He realized that he would never be. It was not his place.
It was her place. She had been chosen as the dancer of chaos, a true disciple of her craft.
The stage of Valoran was set for the perfect performance, a duo performance with the artists of chaos and order.
He was order. She was chaos. Together their beautiful performance would shake the heavens for ages to come.
He saw the other half of the perfect act run past him and to the square beyond. He would not let her leave.
He could not let her leave. She had to understand, like he did, that the stars themselves aligned for them to perform as a duo act.
On the largest stage of any artist.