The night had fallen over Piltover, the city oh so exemplar it once was now overcome with fear; Jinx they called her, the one who brought the panic, the utter disgrace.
They all hated her, an ever-growing hatred once it was clear that the destruction of their precious city brought her joy.
That same person stood facing a broken mirror, somewhere in an abandoned "house", if one could call it a house, in the lower city.
Staring at her own reflection, the dirty mirror showed what she already knew to be there, the 2 piece outfit didn't cover much, not that it showed anything either. Why had it been her choice of dressing, or when had she made that choice, Jinx couldn't recall, probably because it was practical, surely that, now that she thought about it, it made sense, at least in her mind. To compensate the weight of her guns, her garments lacked such thing, offering as much mobility as one could have , armor would just slow her down, yet it was surely that, and she could think no further for that would be a mistake she would surely regret.
Her slim body and the tattoos, slowly withered by time, her braided blue hair almost too spotless for someone like her, her arm and leg wear, lacking symmetry (maybe the braids compensated?), she saw it all, and she knew before even walking (maybe too slowly, maybe too eager to see something else) towards the mirror, that it was all there, yet deep down Jinx knew there was something more there, something the mirror didn't show at first sight, but she could think no further, because it would surely be a mistake, and she would surely regret it
