Author's Note: This chapter was meant to be reflective rather than reactive. It's like a mix now. It turned out into a reminder that Silco is everything Jinx said, but he's also everything Vi said.
Hopefully you'll like it!
Warning: descriptions of injuries and drug use involving a minor, unhealthy father-daughter relationship / codependency, violence
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"Mr Silco?" the door on the first floor opened as they climbed down, accompained by the usual highpitched barks.
"Mrs Grace, thank you so much for your help," Silco told her while Jinx went on ahead with her backpack. "I will never be able to repay you."
"No need to thank me, Mr Silco, I just hope..."
"Could I please ask you for a favor, if it's not too much trouble? We will be out for some days. Would you be so kind as to call me if you see anyone strange in the building, or if anyone comes asking for me or my daughter?"
"Of course," Mrs Grace said at once, fetching a piece of paper and a pen. She looked at Jinx after she had wrote down his number. "If you need anything else..."
"Thank you, Mrs Grace."
Jinx didn't look back at the neighbour. She opened the door and slithered out, waiting for Silco to guide her. She hadn't changed clothes or washed her face yet, she would have time for that, but she had rolled up her braid on the back of her head and fitted everything under her beanie, wefts of blue peeking out of the overstuffed accessory. Silco took her to the nearby parking lot and that car he had mentioned before, for emergencies.
He drove them to the Slums. They saw a couple of spontaneous but effective roadblocks consisting of mostly plastic chairs and their occupants, who peered menancingly into any and all cars that drove by, but Silco kept driving for alternative roads. Jinx remembered the one he was most likely looking for, from when she had first met the Doctor many years ago; Silco had told her he would prefer not to take her to the funny creepy guy's lab, but they had started living together recently and Silco had no one to leave a young Jinx with, nor will to do so. After that, on the rare occasions Jinx acompained him to see the Doctor, it had always been to meet in other places, warehouses by the docks or ill frequented houses scattered in different neighbourhoods.
She wondered if they were gonna go meet him again now; the Doctor had that type of look of someone who didn't sleep, that you would always find up and working no matter which time of the day it was. Surely he lived in some secretive hub where they could hide in. Or maybe just in his lab, which, well, was secretive enough. He wasn't a friend - Silco didn't have friends - but he was trustworthy enough for these types of situations, Jinx mused.
They didn't speak during the way. Silco was trying to seem calm, but Jinx could tell there was something off with the way he tightened his hand on the wheel from time to time, his proeminent veins made even more so.
Jinx was begrudgingly lulled by the car's low rummaging and the hazy burnt yellow street lamps passing by them, and must have dozed out for a moment because she never figured out which road Silco took to get into the Slums. Must have been one either empty of those lookouts or made empty by him being recognized. He parked the car and Jinx blinked, glancing at the row of apartment buildings that copy pasted themselves down both sides of the street. That was not what she remembered the warehouse with the Doctor's lab to look like.
"Let's go?" Silco asked her softly, turning the keys off the ignition.
"Where are we?" Jinx asked. Her throat stinged from all the screaming and it seemed like there was something pulling at her lip.
"Somewhere no one will come looking for us," Silco said simply but reassuringly. "It's not as comfortable as an hotel room, but at least you should be able to sleep without concern."
Jinx hummed, picking up her backpack and getting out of the car. She waited for Silco to guide the way, assessing their surroundings like a tired but trained hawk: there were some lights randomly sprinkled in the buildings, but most of the floors were pitch black behind curtains and blinders of different colors or states of degradation. There were a couple of TVs turned on near their respective windows, you could hear an assortment of vague sounds and see the flicking of their light from the closest ones. The original paint coat of the lower part of the building was hidden under layers of graffiti that covered the blinders of some of the windows too, and the rest of them had dirty or peeling paint up to their fifth floor. One of the graffiti stood out because it was very familiar, a stylized eye in purple that Jinx had designed when she was young. The artist had made a good job creating a gleaming effect with the spray paint, like néon, even under the street light. She couldn't see anyone in the street or peering from the windows.
Silco had parked near a trashcan that had expanded well beyond its boundaries and a stray cat was scavaging for leftovers. Or a very large rat; hard to tell. He walked down to the third building, also attentive for signs of people, opening the door and holding it for Jinx to follow him. It was an old building - this whole part of the neighbourhood seemed to be - but the hallway wasn't dirty and the lights worked when Silco pressed the switch. It didn't have an elevator, but he took the stairs going down anyway, to the four apartments in the basement. He fitted the key into the first door, turning it a bit too loudly enough times to show it was a good lock, and flicked on the light.
They entered into a small but practical kitchen, and from there to the only other division of the apartment besides the bathroom, a bedroom with two small windows that would be at ground-level outside but on the top of the wall inside, almost out of reach to open. It was a spacious bedroom, all things considered; it technically consisted of the full length of the apartment. It wasn't overly cluttered with things either, just a simple unmade bed, a nightstand with an ashtray but no lamp, a wardrobe and a shelved cabinet with a TV fitted between two of them and a record player in another. Some books, CDs and vinyls were alligned on the other shelves. The bedroom smelled of cigarettes and the walls were yellowed from it; the windows probably needed to be opened more often, and overall there was a thin layer of dust over every surface that told Jinx this place hadn't been used for at least a month.
There were no pictures, but a big framed band poster hanged on the wall over the bed, of all five members of Rat Nation in a rundown alley, probably here in the Slums. The poster had had it rough; it was clear someone had grabbed a handful of the paper and ripped it off its frame after the glass had been shattered, crumpling it in a rage and leaving creases and dents like scars that couldn't be reversed anymore. Regardless, it now hanged back in its original frame anyway, bits of the wood chipped out or held together by cellotape, without the glass that hadn't been replaced and more or less flattened back to the best it could be. A thin sheen of dust covered and gathered in some of the deeper creases on the paper.
"You lived here?" Jinx guessed, turning to Silco as he moved the ashtray to the side and lowered the stuff he had brought on the nightstand.
"When I was your age," he confirmed, going to the wardrobe and looking for something. "We had our problems, but we could find a place to live without having to split an apartment with a crowd like it is nowadays."
"But-!" Wasn't this just as bad of a place as home?! If he had lived here before, surely there was a record, maybe even in the police!
"No one knows I still have this," Silco replied at once. "It's rented under a different name for years. I moved a lot even before you came to live with me. No one knows we're here, trust me."
Jinx was ready to protest but Silco returned from behind the wardrobe door with bedsheets and a pillow. "Help me flip the mattress and go take a shower."
"Are you sure? This is a basement! Where do we run to if we need to?"
"You didn't want to go to an hotel. The police doesn't enter Zaun lightly, and we're in an area I run. Not even Sevika knows I have this house."
"Why do you still have it, then?"
"I wanted somewhere to keep my old things. Sometimes I like to revisit them."
Jinx looked at the poster. "Could've found anywhere else for that, not where you used to live," she said, though she got that the place itself was part of the 'revisiting'. Then she gave another round at the house, trying to find safety in this new place and in its small hints of familiarity, signs of who Silco used to be and what he kept from those days. The windows and blinders were closed, and they were so small and high up it gave the illusion they were in an interior room, but it wasn't suffocating; it gave an air of seclusion, of protection, coziness even, like people really didn't know where they were and she could finally breathe again.
Maybe Silco was right about this as well.
"So was this your first house?" she asked, bending down and starting to turn the mattress around, giving it a few taps. The layer of dust fell over the gap against the wall as she did it.
"I moved here when I was sixteen, with some fund help from the orphanage to pay entry," Silco told her. "I was already working in a coffee shop nearby and started doing some restocking in a supermarket at night. Got enough to pay rent and buy a guitar and an amplifier."
"And some money from the band?"
"We only started to get more than enough for a handful of beers after the second album," Silco said with a scoff, starting to stretch the bedsheets. He swayed when he stood up too fast, taking a moment to gather himself.
"You okay?"
"Yes. I'm just old," he brushed it off. "Go take a shower and try to sleep, please. You're safe, and no one is coming to take you away from me."
Jinx didn't have enough strength to argue with that, so she dragged herself to the tiny bathroom with her things.
She finally caught herself in the mirror before she undressed and had to cower at the ruin that cowered back in the reflection; she looked exactly how she felt and then some: hurt and exhausted and like she had been crushed under the weight of the world. Her shirt was a tattered rag hanging from her chest, and with her bra fully exposed it looked like something horrible had happened to her. All of her make-up had melted and instead of hiding the bruise that had formed under her eye, it made it look like she'd been hit by a truck. Her lip was swollen to twice its size, her elbow scrapped bloody with a layer of dirt glued to it, she had small scratches on her torso and on the cheek that had been pressed to the ground, and she had smudges sprinkled throughout that looked like more dust but that were tender to the touch and made her whimper. The top of her head was a rat's nest when she spilled the hair off the beanie. She didn't know how Silco had kept it so together and not snapped at her sight, but it was definitely for the best that he kept it somewhat cool. Who knows what he would've done.
The water was really warm as it hit her skin, and she rubbed her face under the shower, no longer in a rage and wanting to feel pain, just wanting to remove every visible sign of that night and finally go to bed. She didn't have a comb to deal with her hair, so she washed it as fast as possible and let it drape over her like a dripping curtain. She looked herself in the mirror again when she was done. Yeah, she still looked and felt like shit.
She rubbed her skin dry with the towel that was hanging behind the door and put on a tank top and trousers with chains hanging on each hip. There was nowhere to put the dirty clothes so she just left them there. Her body was heavy as she dragged herself back, unwrapping the damp cascade of blue from the towel and finding Silco in the kitchen holding his head in one hand and a smoke in the other.
"Why are you dressed?" he asked when he looked up and saw her wearing normal outside clothes instead of her nightshirt. "You're safe here, Jinx, you don't need-"
"I'm not gonna run away in PJs, not very practical."
"Jinx..."
"Hope I don't gotta run though, I'm tired."
"Change to your pajamas."
"Did you bring yours? Then shut it." He opened his arms slightly and only then did Jinx process there was something wrong, he had removed his dress shirt and replaced it with an weathered down band t-shirt. Ok, PJ enough, but so was hers. "Whatever. You come to bed, too. What time is it, anyway?"
"6:15." Jinx groaned. All that happened in technically a handful of hours. As Silco placed down his phone, she remembered that other detail.
"I broke my phone."
"I'll get you a new one."
"Okay." She picked a tangled rope of hair and combed it with her fingers, waiting for Silco to finish smoking. It might be her tiredness, but she thought she saw his hand tremble as he held the cigarette.
"I need you to give me a shot before you go to bed," he said quietly. So she hadn't imagined it. "I can't stand my head anymore."
"The normal one's done already?" Jinx asked, groaning when she read the answer in his silence. "Silco! You're supposed to take a shot everyday!"
"No, I'm not, but I start withdrawling. I'm turning into another junkie."
"You're not a junkie, you need it, it's medicine. That's why you were up, how many hours have you been in pain instead of just jabbing?"
"It's not like I sleep much anyway."
Any other time, Jinx would've taken the butt of the cigarette off his hand and crushed it in the ashtray, taken him to bed and pinned him to make sure he would stay down and rest. She sulked, turning her back at him and going to the bedroom. All that talk about she having to sleep, but he was up and feeling ill for who knows how long. Hypocrit.
"Should start drugging your drinks," she said under her breath as she rummaged Silco's bag and assembled everything. Silco put out his smoke and went to wash his face, sitting down beside her on the bed. He took some breaths before laying his head on her lap.
It hurt more than usual; either because of Jinx's exhaustion or Silco's, he couldn't keep the pain down as mere discomfort and his body convulsed when the Shimmer was injected. Jinx pulled the needle out as fast as she could, pressing her hand over his chest to try and soothe him as he panted; his heart was racing like wild.
Silco took several moments to recover, slowly relaxing as the drug worked its way into the inflammed nerve endings and quieted them down. The sudden lack of pain after hours of constant pressure left a tingling sensation until that too finally passed and there was just peace. Finally. He swallowed, turning to the side on Jinx's lap and closing his eye with a sigh. He searched for her hand, holding it softly in his in silent gratitude. Jinx ran her fingers through his hair, lulling him and pushing away whatever tension was left in his body. Finally. He would deal with everything tomorrow; or in a handful of hours, whichever came first. Constant pain took a toll on anyone.
"Vander doesn't know you have to go through this, does he," Jinx asked absentmindedly; she was too tired and the few filters she might normally have were down. She answered her own question in the silence; no one did, except her and the Doctor, and the Doctor didn't care. He hadn't improved the formula out of concern for clinical patients who might use the varient, or for Silco as one of those patients, he'd just done it out of scientific advancement and coincidently brought about a happy accident - if you could call it that, because clearly the improvement over earlier Shimmer was minuscule. Silco didn't like to inject himself alone for obvious reasons, but Jinx wasn't home every single day, sometimes she would sleep at Vander's; Silco had to do it himself or go to the Doctor. She hadn't really thought tremendously about it before, just... he would do it somehow, take his suckish medicine. But he probably just bit the bullet and simply didn't take any shot if she wasn't around, right?
Jinx wasn't sure how serious Silco's scar... well, it technically it wasn't just a scar, was it?... wound was. If it really was spreading, how fast, and what would happen when it got to the brain; not like it had to travel far. The injections helped but didn't solve the problem; if anything, it was getting worse, whether because Silco's body was really starting to build up a tolerance or because the infection was simply spreading faster than the Shimmer could contain it. What would happen to him if it got worse?
...what would happen to her?
What was gonna happen to them? They couldn't hide here indefinitely. If Silco got arrested, how would he be able to take Shimmer? What would happen to him then? And where was she gonna go? Vi lied, Vander lied, Ekko lied, she couldn't stay with them. They were trying to take her away from Silco. Where was she supposed to go if he was gone?
Was there a way this could be... forgotten? Postponed? But postponed until when? And forgotten how? Everything had been going so well, with her EP finally done, and Vi liking it, and Vander, her other projects were going well, and with Ekko, they were going so well, excited to maybe go all the way and just... why did this had to happen? This should just never have happened to begin with. If only she hadn't tried to help...
Maybe the police would back down and they could just continue to live normally like before, just... Stupid, stupid, stupid, childish Powder, of course they couldn't go back to how they were, Vi would never give up now that she had started. Even if the police backed down with some threat from Silco, she wouldn't care and do something crazy. And how could Jinx pretend like they hadn't lied? They had fought before, they had said horrible things about Silco, lies, but this time they made it worse, they had used her. How could she pretend that hadn't happened? And stupid Finn? How much trouble would there be with the barons? What was Silco gonna do? He could do something about the police, about the barons, but Vi? Vander? Ekko?
He wouldn't hurt them, would he?
Jinx had been calm for far too long. Too much had happened and too much was going to happen and she had no idea what to do, just watch it burn or throw oil to the fire with her sorry attempts at helping. What were they gonna do? What was she supposed to do?
"Lay down," Silco asked her, sitting up to make room for her to rest beside him. He turned when he heard her ragged breathing and took her in his arms slowly without another word.
"...what are we gonna do?" She knew at a certain point her tears would run dry, but today they were testing new limits. At least she was no longer screaming. "They wanna arrest you, what do I do if you go to jail? What do I do?"
"I'm not going to jail."
"But..."
"We'll face whatever they want to throw at us together, like we always do," Silco told her; he didn't mention Vander or that side by name. He didn't want to upset her nor did he need more confirmation. "You're tired. It'll be better tomorrow."
Everything would be worse tomorrow, but she could feel her body collapsing and just going 'nah, enough, can't take more'. Her brain wasn't exactly on the same page yet, but at a certain point there was little it could do. She finally did what he asked, whiping her dripping nose on the back of her hand and then on her pants and laying down next to Silco, cuddling beneath the bedsheet and taking a bit more than half her side of the pillow. Silco let her, kissing her forehead and soothing her like she had done to him before.
She could finally sleep. They were safe, no one knew where they were.
It still took a lot longer for her to relax than he did. She pulled the whole of her hair up against the headboard so it wouldn't get caught beneath them during the night (or day, technically) and fidgeted on and off Silco for comfort in the small bed. He didn't have his eye cover, but he fell asleep all the same. Very small slices of daylight started to dot the wall opposite the bed, but if Jinx squinted they could play pretend as stars. Her stomach decided it hadn't been making an appearance in the sad show the night had been, but Jinx frowned and just pressed her head harder against Silco's chest to ignore the grumbling.
Sleep, goddammit.
It helped that she had Silco's warmth to nuzzle into, the reassurance and comfort she always needed to calm down. No one was gonna take him away.
They slept for about four hours; Silco did, at least, as expected. He didn't feel rested, and groaned against the closest tuff of Jinx's hair after he checked the time. He slowly started to mentally organize what he had to do today, as to know how much longer he could stay in the comfort that was Jinx sleeping next to him, the reassurance of it. Just knowing he could hold her against him, that he could rest at least a little while longer because she was here, because he was sure she was safe; that feeling was a never-gone imprint of their first few months, when Jinx was too afraid to sleep alone and Silco was too relieved for it to tell her anything else. She seeked safety, and he could provide her that safety.
No one was going to take her away from him, not with him there.
But now they were trying again.
He let himself stay for a few more moments, though his eye was itching with dryness. The house had the bare minimum for him to stay comfortably overnight if he wanted (which wasn't often), and he most likely had eye coverings he had forgotten about yesterday/four hours ago, but no matter. He was pretty certain one thing it was lacking was a decent breakfast for Jinx, beyond a good bottle of whiskey at least. He needed something sugary and not healthy at all but that would make her fuzzy and happy. So that was the priority on the to-do list.
He hadn't brought live money with him from home, but he had quite a substancial amount in the wardrobe (not so much a 'revisiting' the past there as much as adapting to the present. His younger self had never seen as much money as Silco now had in that one box), more than enough to get meals for months. Delivery services didn't operate in Zaun, as hadn't taxis before them back when he lived here, and Silco didn't want to use his credit cards right now anyway with the likely possibility of Grayson going to scavange his accounts with some fabricated warrant. But he had to get food regardless.
That was essencially the driving force for him to sit up, massaging his face and yawning. He tucked the bedsheet over Jinx, dreading to have woken her after he fondled her hair and she fidgeted, but she just turned the other way, a tired sigh escaping her lips. He smiled at the pouty mouth she was making, exactly like when she was little; as far back as when she was a baby even, when he had to keep an eye on her while Damyan or Ava were doing something elsewhere. It was a surreal thing, how she could look so small and so grown up at the same time. His smile fell as he carefully brushed aside the locks to unveil the ugly bruises spreading on her skin under her eye and over her lip; Silco just wanted to strangle the person who put them there. His suspicions were on Vi, and few things could be done to that girl that would satisfy him. But that would be taken care of by Sevika; the sooner, the better. They would all pay, but she was the one who had to pay the higher price.
Jinx would understand. Not at first, but eventually. It was for the best.
She would. She had to.
He performed his morning routine now adapted to the circumstances; the shower in the minuscule cubicle he didn't miss, stepping over Jinx's soon to be trashed clothes, his dress shirt begging a good ironing he didn't have after he had carelessly discarded it (though it now matched his trousers well enough), and the entire ritual that was his face and hair care now cut by half; his eyedrops, a quick shave without applying his moisturizer, just a simple layer of concealer and setting powder and his hair brushed back with water instead of pommade. The intrusive thought kept pestering him all the while, of Jinx blaming him for her sister's death, of her blaming him for the message everyone else would get. It would be hard, he knew that, but it had to be done. Vander had mostly kept his word and place, but the only reason Silco hadn't done anything sooner was because of her. He knew it would hurt her, cursed be those manipulative bastards who made her believe they cared for her, and that was last thing he wanted to do. So he had endured, as much as he was capable of.
No more. They had hurt her too many times. They had used her against him.
He could call everything off, just as simple as one phone call had set it. But why would he?
He imagined the scene of Jinx eventually finding out about her sister. What she would accuse him of, and what he wouldn't be able to deny.
He remembered the image of his daughter bleeding, crying and screaming a few hours ago, a juxtaposition of the night so vivid in his memory. The result of the same people.
The only thing he wanted to change in his orders was to be present when they were executed.
Silco always carried a pen somewhere on his person - a last resort weapon if it came down to it - and wrote down a note on a napkin should Jinx wake up in his absence, placing it on the empty space he had left so she would see it first thing; hopefully she would stay asleep for a few more deserved hours. After he made sure he had everything else he needed and put on his leather coat, he went to the wardrobe, took out a couple of small stacks of bills and the gun he had next to them, lit up a cigarette and exited the apartment.
He hadn't lived here for years, but Zaun was his home. It had been the start of his band in his youth and of his business when his past life was drowned, his base of operations and where a great part of his profits went to in order to give the Slums the chance everyone else denied it. He had lived in many different blocks in Zaun and now owned most of them, from housing to the small businesses to the industries in its outskirts, but the gang wars delayed his project of making it a thriving commercial hub. The majority of the barons were from here, but had little interest in either their birthplace or expanding their political influence, both of Silco's objectives; ingrain himself in the city's corruption to control it, starting with the largest populated part of it.
He went by his food hunting in a grocery store a few blocks away who had the same owners since Silco was young; owners who had refused to sell their mortgage when he offered up to buy it. They had been persuaded a couple of times and kept refusing, until the husband having a pesky little accident once at closing hour had finally convinced them they would appreciate Silco's protection. Sitting behind the cashier due to his bad leg, Old Man Tom recognized him as he entered. He wasn't welcoming.
"Look who it is. Back to the roots, Silco?"
"Always happy to help local businesses, Mr Tom." He had grown to feel an misplaced sense of irritation that he masked behind polished pleasantry whenever he saw the man. His fully white beard contrasted nicely with his dark skin but it didn't make him look like a nice old grandpa, just like a grumpy one, and his hard-headedness and impatience somehow made Silco think of how Vander could be if he ever got to live to seventy five. The Vander from before.
His wife peeked from behind the counter at the back, a flash of panic on her wrinkled face before she politely greeted him.
"M-Mr Silco, it's been a while!"
"Please, Lady Morisa, you've known me since I was a child," he said with fake modesty. "There's no need to call me mister."
"I-is everything alright? Are we late on our payments-"
"Oh, no, no, Lady Morisa, I just have to do some plain grocery shopping, and what better place to come than your lovely little establishment?"
"What do you want, Silco?" Old Man Tom had always been too stubborn for his own good.
"Do you need any help?" Lady Morisa rephrased, sending warning looks at her husband.
"Thank you," Silco replied, picking two of every ready meal of the small selection they had, soda, cookies, chocolate and ice cream, everything Jinx might need to feel good. "Do you have waffles?"
The slightly hysterical voice of Lady Morisa accompained him the whole time he shopped, so he made it quick. Silco had everything neatly piled in a big shopping bag and was taking out the money to pay the scowling old man when they heard gunfire in the distance. Lady Morisa startled up, a shiver running down her back.
"Starting early today," Old Tom commented.
"Let's hope it's short lived," Silco replied casually, extending a small bundle of bills to the man, who eyed him with suspicion. Silco added joyfully: "Keep the change."
"We don't want your money, Silco."
"I couldn't possibly take all this free of charge, Mr Tom," Silco pretended to not understand the man's point. "Buy something nice for your wife. Poor Lady Morisa has suffered enough scares for a lifetime, don't you agree? We live in such perilous times. But you haven't been having any problems, not with my people around, I hope?"
"No! No, thank you, y-you know my husband, he's- Oh! Heavens, that is a lot of money, Mr Silco-"
"I value loyalty above all else." He swung the straps of the grocery bag over his shoulder, leaving the old woman babbling something behind him and Old Tom biting back his words; one beating was enough to bend him but not break him, and Silco doubted he would keep the silence he was due should anyone come to question him. But his wife's fear did wonders, more than money or violence.
Silco had an order of preference when it came to intimidation: violence, fear, money. Money alone didn't earn respect, not real one at least, and fear needed a base of necessary violence to be held. Fear kept them in order, money was a reward they understood. But it all rested in the one true thing that demanded respect. The universal language of violence Silco eloquently mastered.
Silco checked the time; if Jinx slept all she needed, he had hours to go. The bag weighed on his shoulder but he could take a longer walk home and pass by another place to give someone else a stronger reminder of how precious silence was, someone who needed it much more than a couple of old shoppers.
He walked calmly in the streets he knew like the palm of his hand, earning a few side glances from those who didn't know or recognized him while he struggled a moment to lit a second cigarette and smoked quietly on his way. No one bothered him, except for a random group of teenagers who had nothing better to do in their free Sunday morning (shouldn't they be asleep by now?) than to be a menace to society with their horrible trash music blasting off speakers. Silco used to be seen as a menace too (arguably still was), got in trouble for that quite a bit in his youth, but the years had both refined him and weathered him down to not have patience for brats. At least they had good music taste back in his day.
"These are our streets, who said you could walk by for free, gramps?" a teenage girl with silver hair demanded, her chest all full of pride and ostentation as she stepped in front of him.
Okay, that one was actually funny. "Oh, you sweet child. Keep rehearsing in front of your mirror some more."
"Fucking smartass for a scrawny old man," she replied, a little wave of meant-to-be intimidating sneers going by her crew as they stood up from their places. Silco threw the smoke away. "The fuck's wrong with your eye?"
"Don't worry, yours won't look so bad."
The girl tried to scoff but it got caught in the gun tucked under her chin. Her eyes went wide and she waved her hand at her buddies, who stopped dead in their tracks.
"Whoa, shit!" one of the boys said.
"I told you we should get guns, man!" that was the other girl of the group.
"Oh, you dunno whatcha doing, motherfucker-!" that was the last one.
"Jem, wait up."
"Rava-!"
"Motherfucker has a gun on my face, bitch!"
"Clever girl, Rava," Silco said calmly. The girl looked suddenly a lot more her age, even younger than Jinx. "Move along now, I don't want my food to defrost."
He carried on his way in a mix of amusement and irkness; the teenagers threw some empty threats but didn't try to attack him further. Babes, really; anyone worth being anyone carried a weapon in Zaun.
The fact that none of his men had been informed he was in Zaun meant he was exposed to threats, to an attack of an opponent, or these random pests, but Silco fought fear with confidence, with anger. With power.
That included the place he finally arrived at. They were closed already, but it was still early enough to catch some of the workers at the end of their day. Silco sucked the end of his third smoke and knocked on the closed door. He waited a moment and knocked again, with more purpose. The bag was starting to weigh on him so he changed arm again.
"We're closed!" came a voice from inside. Silco knocked again.
Another child, a big one but still a child, opened the door with a thrust. Silco looked up. The shaved face and head did nothing to help making him look older, and the assortment of tattoos on his face didn't give a threatening aura in the slightest, either, only made it look like he had let a baby sibling doodle on his face instead of a wall. But apparently he only had his size going for him and was the newest bouncer of Luna Rosa. He looked down at Silco.
"I said we're closed."
"Oh, I know. I'm here to see Babette, if you'd be so kind."
"Babette isn't taking customers."
"Tom, what is it?" another voice came from behind the boy, a more familiar one from one of the older bouncers Silco knew.
Silco looked up at the child again. Another Tom, wanting to be as stubborn as the old one. Silco wasn't as patient now though. The boy opened his mouth but what came out was a scream when Silco shot him in the foot, making the young tower of a man come tumbling down against the wall. Silco held the door and stepped inside, seeing Greg, the bouncer who worked there since day one and an old friend of Babette's, scrambling up from the chair in alert and losing color in his face when they exchanged looks.
"Silco-" he gasped, eyes flying to the kid bleeding on the floor. "Shit, he's only heard of you, he didn't know who you were-"
"Now he knows. Call Babette."
"I think she's sleeping already, I-"
"Wake her up."
The few remaining workers at the brothel came out startled from the gunshot, almost all of them knowing who he was and knowing to stay out of his way. They knew trouble when they saw it, and the bleeding bouncer on the floor grunting in pain needed little further warning.
He heard her quick high-heeled steps before the shortest woman Silco had ever known in his life appeared from the corridor escorted by the bouncer, her heavily made-up face tense despite her experience dealing with violence. She was used to deal with Silco's men both as customers and creditors; seeing him was a problem.
"Greg, Miguel, take care of Tom, please. No ambulance," she ordered at the closest young man to her, her eyes never leaving Silco's. "Don't disturb us."
Silco only put the gun and his grocery bag down when he sat on the couch Babette had in her office/bedroom; this way neither of them needed the extra straining on their necks to look at each other. The madame closed the door behind her and walked to the desk, lighting the cigarette on her mouthpiece. She was doing a fantastic job at keeping her hands steady despite herself. Somewhere in another room, a scream of pain echoed.
"You didn't need to shoot the boy," she said quietly.
"Have you seen Vander recently?"
Babette turned at him, an eyebrow flinched. "No. I haven't seen him in months, maybe a year."
"I suppose brothels in the Slums don't match his family-friendly persona now," Silco said, glancing around the bedroom. Babette was not his style and he had never slept with her, but they used to come here quite a bit in the old days. Nice little place with a few interesting people. "Though I would've assumed he'd use them now more than ever, having to put up with a pack of noisy teenagers everyday."
"You would know teenagers," Babette replied. Silco granted her the comment, joining her in smoking.
"And our good friend Vi?"
"I haven't seen Violet in... some weeks."
"She's so grown up now that she's become a customer too? They really do grow up fast."
"She only came to visit. She's just being polite to an old woman. I've known them since they were born, Silco."
"Yes, we all do. Such a lively little girl, ever since she was a baby, isn't she? Unbreakable spirit. Or too stubborn for her own good. Depends on the perspective, I suppose."
Babette tapped the ash off her smoke on ashtray. She then extended it to Silco to do the same.
"What are you doing here, Silco?"
"Seems like my person has piqued the interest of the police," he answered plainly. "I think we can all agree I don't appreciate having Grayson or any of her pig cops on my heels."
"I'm surprised it has taken them so long."
"Should only come as a surprise if you had nothing to do with it."
"I didn't," Babette replied firmly. "You're a drug dealer, Silco. Sooner or later, the police would trace it back to you."
"They didn't just trace it back to me. They traced it back to my daughter, intended to use her against me. Now, we are not as close as we once were, Babette, but you know I am protective of my own. Especially if some dirty fucking cop tries to mix my daughter into something she has nothing to do with."
"She is only mixed in it because of you, Silco."
"Careful."
It was the sole warning. Babette swallowed. Silco breathed.
She extended him the ashtray again. He tapped the ash off.
"You became one of my own when we made our mutually beneficial business arrangement, Babette, but I do not tolerate traitors."
"I didn't say anything about you to anyone."
"And you'll continue to do so if Grayson or anyone else comes asking questions. Keep your people in check, too. Greg, your new naïve stray, Tom."
"Entering anywhere shooting guns isn't exactly helpful to keep a low profile."
"My apologies. I had a bit of a rough night. And I have food to put in the freezer. Didn't want to wait long."
Silco stood up and Babette shivered despite herself. She knew Silco for over twenty years, had become friends even, with him and his band back in the day. He had the soul of a PR in his seemingly quiet outside, an eloquency that was evident if you paid the slightest bit of attention, and had always been polite whenever they saw each other outside of her work as madame of what was then a still new establishment under her name. He had been an explanary client to her girls and boys, and the two of them had had honestly engaging conversations well after working hours about as wide a range of topics as music to politics, and she had been invited by the rest of the band to concerts, brunches with friends, to watch over the girls when they were little. All those prejudices society used to have (and sometimes still did) about people who listened and played their type of music proved to be as unfounded as it was to be expected, despite Silco once telling her that 'in the metal scene, you'll meet the best people there are, but you'll also meet the worst type of fucking assholes'. From Babette's experience with them and their musician friends she'd met on occasion, she had only met the first batch. She was never treated disrespectfully for not understanding their music or for her line of work; well, the one time some drunkard had stepped out line, Vander had punched him unconscious. Silco had honestly been a nice young man. Once. Before.
Now his qualities had been distorted into to aggression and intimidation, his personality turned spiteful and stunted by violence. His 'mutually beneficial business arrangement' consisted of Babette selling Shimmer in her brothel as part of her services, after he had had her workers threatened or attacked in the street by his thugs, making them beg her to yield, to keep everyone safe. Not even Miguel, Sevika's favorite worker, had been spared. Silco was a vicious kingpin who gave back very little compared to what he stole, and Babette tried to handle him to the best of her abilities, but it was getting harder everyday.
Violet and Vander knew of her plight. Knew how it could help them in their own plight. They had kept in touch by phone or message when coming to Zaun became too dangerous. She knew of Vi's plan to finally make Grayson work out of the standstill she had placed herself and her police force, and she wanted to talk. But she had too much at stake, too many people depending on her to stay safe.
Vi did, too. Her sister. Little Powder.
"Isn't it enough, Silco?" Babette said quietly when Silco put out the cigarette. He raised his eyes from the ashtray on her hand to her. "You're not protecting her anymore. From now on, you'll just cause suffering to Powder-"
Silco stopped seeing for a second, and in that second the ashtray flew from Babette's hand, crashing in the floor while she gasped when Silco grabbed her by the hair and pressed the blade of his knife against her throat. Babette's eyes got wide and she stopped breathing, looking in fear at the blind rage Silco couldn't hide behind fake calmness or useless pleasantries.
"Don't you dare suggest I'd harm my daughter."
"I know you don't want to do it, but it will happen inevitably," Babette let the sadness she actually felt for him show. Her eyes glistened, but she swallowed the rest of the words she wanted to say hard, silenced by the look in Silco's eyes.
"My men will be here in a couple of hours," he let her know with a slight pressure of the blade against her skin. Babette whimpered. "For your sake, I hope you'll have their week's money ready."
"They've been here friday-" Babette tried to say uselessly, yelping when Silco shoved her small body against the bed.
"I'll make sure they don't aim at the feet. Two hours."
He turned around, picked the gun he had laid on the couch and his bag and left. Greg was waiting outside and looked anxiously through the door in search for Babette, getting out of Silco's way without being ordered. Silco ignored him, stomping down the corridor and exiting the fucking brothel at last.
The first thing he did was pull out his phone and call some of his men. Have them collect at Luna Rosa in two hours. In the meantime, find four loud stupid teenagers bossed by Rava and give them a free lesson on Zaun street ownership and how to pick your fights.
The fury blinded him but his muscle memory knew where to take him, and he got home faster than he probably ever did in his life. The moment he fit the keys into the lock, he breathed, slowed down his movements and entered, laying down the bag and checking the bedroom where Jinx had now occupied the full bed like a starfish and slept soundlessly. He was fitting everything in the freezer when he heard a loud yawn, and he peeked into the bedroom again, seeing Jinx stretching herself on the bed before sitting up with the worst hair day up to date. Silco's grimace from imagining the amount of work to tame that monster turned into a smile despite it. She looked adorable, calm and rested.
"Mornin'," Jinx said, rubbing her eyes lazily.
"Morning. Waffles?"
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to be continued
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Author's Note: Shadow of Intent released a deluxe edition of "Elegy" with extra tracks and all the instrumentals and if I needed a soundtrack for this chapter man did I get those guitars and drums and violins \m/ Especially "Elegy III" and if you understandably don't want to listen to the full track then do yourself a favor and listen just from 4:15 to 4:57
The line about loyalty comes from our good old Raymond Reddington, and a nod to the sweet Summer child. The line about the metal scene and its people is a paraphrasing of what my Black Metal colleague once told me.
You might have noticed that for a fic that is a band AU, I've been kinda dodging the band stuff a bit. I was supposed to bring that back, and I was supposed to have Silco find out Sevika was the one that hit Jinx in this chapter, but the story decided something else. I am not fully sure on the 3 different scenes with Silco, but hopefully it being different approaches and a crescendo of violence doesn't make it too bad.
Thanks for reading.
