The Enforcer's apartment had been emptied.

Jinx spent a few silent and still moments wondering if it had always been empty like this, even after her first visit. She wondered if the vaguely couch-shaped markings on the wall had always been so apparent, having blocked the walls from sunlight and stains alike. She wondered if the furniture imprints on the carpet had always been there to greet the bottoms of her boots every time she paid a visit. She wondered if the t-shirt she had stolen was simply a figment of her desperate imagination. She thought back on what little she could remember of the place and never recalled every surface always been coated in a generous layer of dust, but then again, she had never swiped her hands along them. Spiders had never taken refuge in the corners and closets, but perhaps she was looking past their webs.

Nothing smelled of coconut anymore.

Her boots made a sort of crunching noise on the carpet as she slowly made her way through the living room, though the sound was blocked out by the familiar background noise of the television humming nearby. Voices chimed in enthusiastically, laugh tracks periodically interrupting what had to have been a sitcom of sorts. She could hardly make out any of their words, but the sound in itself was soothing enough to her.

She noticed how tensed her muscles were, how her hand hovered over her Zapper, despite his display of fault those weeks ago. (She had, of course, hardly bothered to give him a routine cleaning and recharge, unable to find the strength or motivation in herself to do so.) Her body refused to relax, her steps careful and her eyes darting to every section of the room as if something was going to leap out at her at any given moment. It seemed impossible for the place to be inhabited by anything other than insects-chains and boarded windows were adept enough at keeping squatters and animals out of the place.

Ghosts were, of course, exempt from the barricades of chains and boarded windows. Often, Jinx wondered if she, too, were a ghost and that the image of her shooting through chains and busting through a locked door was simply a falsified act made to make her seem more alive.

Whatever it was that haunted her, that plagued her mind, that lurked in blind darkness and struck when she least expected...quieted down whenever she passed over the threshold. There was no yelling, no screaming, no horrible taunting whenever she found herself in the old apartment. The atmosphere it formed was equal parts calming and chilling.

The humming sounds of the television and muffled sitcom voices were overpowered by laughter from the other side of the room. Jinx's head sharply turned, only to find the couch-shaped stain on the wall and the imprints of its size on the carpet below. In an active attempt to calm herself down, her hand moved from hovering over her pistol to instead pull uneasily at the frayed end of a braid. She pulled the plait between her two hands, pulling at split ends and mussing through the tangled heap. She shook her head, hoping to shake away the background noise. The sounds, however, would not be so easily lost.

The suctioning sound of an opening refrigerator made her turn toward the kitchen where, of course, there was nothing going on. Clinking glass against glass, like bottles, came from the same area, followed by the sound of a closing fridge. An unidentified source rummaged through cabinets, though a few of them had been nailed shut and covered with wooden boards. Invisible silverware clinked together in a drawer, unreal objects being dropped onto the countertops. The kitchen faucet turned to full blast, imaginary water filling the sink. A fake person sat back onto the couch with a huff, there was a sigh, a cough, a running shower, doors opening and closing, and there was laughter, gods, there was so much laughter.

In a crazed attempt to escape the sounds of the dead, Jinx fled to the bedroom, powering through a large spider web. All three of her guns, acting now as unnecessary clutter and width on her sides and back, scraped across walls and the doorframe. After shoving her way through the doorway, guns doing all they could to prevent her from going anywhere, she slammed the door shut behind her. She turned the lock as if any of the imaginary people would follow her into there. In fear or more sounds plaguing her, she covered her ears with the palms of her hands, sliding her back against the door to sit on the dusty floor, pulling her knees up to her chest.

The carpet was worn in the doorway, years of traffic having trampled it flat and painting it with layers of dirt. Its contrast was relieved with a hefty coating of dust, but the dirt was still visible. Jinx tried to look elsewhere, but the signs of previous life were everywhere. The bed's headboard had left bumps and nicks in the wall. A dresser and a nightstand had both left sun-stains on the walls. An old curtain rod left holes where it had been drilled in above the sliding-glass doors to the balcony. No section of the old bedroom spared Jinx from its previous life, however faded and absent. She shut her eyes tight, hands still pressed hard against her ears, rested her forehead on her knees, and willed the atmosphere to be quiet.

She hadn't come here for all of this ruckus. She hadn't trespassed through locks and boards to be bombarded with signs of life. All Jinx had wanted out of this trip was some sort of sick reminder that Vi was gone for good, that the haunting voice in her head was just a voice in her head and not some horrible ghost. But the flaring sounds around her made her think otherwise. They made her weak.

"She's dead," she muttered, her voice sounding much louder with her ears covered. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead..." Her body began to rock forward and backward, the motion meant to be calming but offering nothing for her anxiety. "She's not here," she told herself. "No one is here, it's just me, just me and my guns." She sucked in as much air as she could, held the breath for a few seconds, and let it out in a sort of sob. "It's just me," she repeated. "She's dead. She's dead! Vi is dead! She's dead!" Her rocking quickened its pace, and she began to slam her back against the closed door she leaned against. "She's dead! She's never coming back!" With every exclamation, she slammed her back against the door. "Dead! Dead! Dead!" The words came out almost like an angry chant.

Something warm seeped onto her gloved hands, something wet, and she was forced to uncover her ears, letting the barrage of sounds back in. The wetness dripped down her head, over her ears, her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. A weak attempt to wipe it away was futile. The stream of liquid seemed endless, and finally she opened her eyes to look at her hands.

Crimson tainted her skin, dripped over her head and onto her shoulders. Thick blood covered her body, engulfed her, painted her skin and clothes. When she gasped, it flooded into her mouth, curdling her screams and muffling her raucous roar of terror. It stained her vision and she blindly lunged forward, grasping onto short carpet with bloody hands. She crawled unsighted toward something, anything, and finally her hands hit an object.

She slapped toward it a few times. It felt like a beam of wood. Unseeing, she grasped it and pulled herself toward it. The closer she got, the dryer she became. The blood dripped away into nothingness, and in a few moments, she was free of its reign.

Perplexed, she looked onward to the beam she had pulled herself to. It took her a few stunned moments of confusion to put the pieces together and realize that it was furniture. The foot of a bed, actually. Too puzzled by its sudden appearance to be terrified, she continued to study the piece of furniture, eyes trailing along its wooden surface and to its fabric portion. The bed was complete with a mattress, sheets, and blankets piled messily on top.

"I miss this bed."

The voice sounded too real, and yet completely false at the same time. It filled up the bedroom, conquered the space, leaving all of the other noises from the other rooms behind. In between sentences, there was a silence akin to darkness. There was absolutely nothing to be heard-no breath, no shuffling, no noise infiltrating from the outside world. The words penetrated Jinx's mind, and covering her ears would offer her no escape.

"Do you know how shitty it is to not have a bed?"

The criminal thought back on how she had thought it impossible for another person to break in, but perhaps she had been wrong. How could she not be, with another person sitting here on the mattress, attempting to make conversation with her? She looked up toward them from her seat on the floor, but every time she tried to focus her magenta gaze on them, something burned behind her eyes. There was static and a sort of messy, blur of colors, a vaguely person-shaped blob, but even with all of her strength and willpower she could not focus on their being.

"I'll spoil it for you-it sucks. Big time." The person-the voice-scoffed lightly. Jinx imagined that if she could focus on them, they would be shaking their head. "I bet this is what you came here for," they said, their words filled with sarcasm, "to hear me complain." They sighed heavily.

Jinx turned away and leaned against the side of the bed, having given up on attempting to focus on the vague shape. Her panic had washed away as the blood did. Something about the voice created a calm atmosphere. Muscles that she hadn't even realized were tensed, relaxed. Her eyes shut with ease. It was as if someone had slipped her a drug of some sort and every part of her body, every part of her being had become serene.

There was a banging sound toward the front of the apartment, but Jinx couldn't be bothered to react to it. She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Several sets of footsteps stormed the apartment, and Jinx just sat. Relaxed. More relaxed than she had been in months.

"Looks like our party was cut short, huh?"

Jinx gave a quiet, "Mhm."

"Someone probably saw you and called the cops."

"Yeah," Jinx replied.

The bed creaked with movement. The footsteps outside the bedroom stormed closer, voices calling out to check every nook and cranny in the place. Jinx didn't care-she didn't have the energy in her to care. It was almost impossible for her to care.

"Whatcha gonna do?" the voice wondered. Jinx shrugged. "You're gonna have to make up your mind." Jinx sighed. She was to comfortable, the calm atmosphere surrounding her like a thick blanket in the cold. She let it consume her entire being.

"Like, now."

All serenity was ripped from her, all sense of relaxation torn away abruptly. Her eyes shot open and she moved to spring to her feet, adrenaline rushing through every limb where the calm sensation had previously settled, but she found that she had already been standing. She glanced around for any sign of the being that had been talking to her before, but the room-empty as it was when she had entered-was devoid of any being besides herself. She shook her head vigorously, the confusion of the situation interfering with her ability to form an escape plan.

As if the entire situation hadn't fumbled around in her mind enough, a light breeze came from the open balcony door behind her, sending a slight chill up her bare legs and back. With no time to do anything other than accept the bizarre situation, Jinx took the escape immediately, dashing out of the balcony door and away from the scene.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, pumped into her mind and made her fingers twitch with want for action. She paused her escape atop one of the apartment buildings nearby, turning back to face where she had just been. The building was flooded with officers, each searching for a trace of terror, for a flash of blue and pink. Instinctively, she placed a hand onto Pow Pow's handle at her side and the other at the replaced belt that kept Fishbones strapped to her body. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth anxiously, boot tapping on the rooftop impatiently.

It was mostly instinct that took over her body in that moment, and partially the thirst for some sort of action. Her life had been tinged with a dull grey in the past months, and in that moment, the vibrant colors of the buildings around her, of her guns, of her hair, of the poor, poor unsuspecting officers running around...they all exploded with unbelievable saturation.

With no more hesitation, Piltover's Most Wanted released her hold on her minigun and instead pulled her rocket launcher from his place at her back. Almost immediately, he began to oppose.

"You really shouldn't do this," he griped in his typical whiny voice. "They're just doing their job."

With a dramatic scoff and a roll of her eyes, Jinx aimed the gun's mouth directly at the building full of officers. From her distance, they looked like little bugs, like the ones crawling around the abandoned apartment. They meant nothing to her.

"Yeah, they are," she agreed. "And it's annoying!"

Without any more restraint, she released a rocket directly into the crowded building.