She feels disoriented and fuzzy as she slowly stirs awake, not quite comprehending the where nor when of her whereabouts. Her eyes half-lidded, Vi stares at the dimly lit white ceiling, with her mind still disconnected from the world.
The woman slowly turns her head around to take in her surroundings, wincing at the pain in her neck. It's all white, pristinely so with the exception of the darkness behind the sole window in the room. With two more empty beds, and a drained IV standing beside her own, it's probably a safe bet to assume she's in a hospital. Why?
Vi's eyes travel along the line of the IV, until they rest upon the needle dug into her arm. She stares at it blankly for a couple of seconds, before forcing her body to relax. She'd been in a similar position before, and knows there's no point in rushing to recall what happened to her – it'll either come on its own or not at all. She can spend the her time more productively, examining her body's state, for example.
Her... well, everything feels stiff, with a slight stinging in her back, aching jaw and right shoulder, and it feels like there's something pulling at her scalp. She can move her limbs and fingers just fine, though, so there are no immediate concerns.
The pinkette's gaze trails back to the empty IV, with a grimace passing her features.
Her stiff body stands for some freakish bruising, stinging for either burns or or heavy grazing, the aching would be an aftereffect of a dislocation, and the pulling must be stitches. With all of this in mind, it's likely a bad idea to get up. Vi tries, nonetheless – quickly giving up once she realizes how heavy her body feels. She'd just end up on the floor.
All of that with painkillers still circulating in her system, she knows the feeling. The enforcer also knows the feeling of being cut off from the substance, and is most definitely not looking forward to it, she's already feeling like shit.
The woman puts her palms over her face to inspect both, one by touch, the other by sight. Her hands look fine, not at all damaged – up the her elbows, where the angry red starts. She must've been wearing her gauntlets when- whatever it was, happened. Her face, however, did not come out unscathed – she can feel a line of stitches stretching above her left ear – where is her- Ah. They must've shaved her hair there. Progress. When she was little, they'd have left her bald...
What happened? The memory's right there at the back of her mind by now, waiting to resurface.
Something- fireworks? And... Jinx?
Jinx!
Of fucking course it was Jinx. How else could she have landed here. The last time she'd needed hospital treatment, it was due to ripping off the handlebar from a motorbike on a joyride. Or so she suspects, since there's no actual memory of the even present in the her mind, only the rust around the broken part that hinted at it. It figures that it'd be something as simple as the handlebar that would break, serves her right for not checking it out before she got to riding.
It took her three days before she was released, back then. Vi wonders how long it'll take this time. Ugh. The next time she gets her hands on twerp she'll-
Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt as another memory comes back to her.
She regained her consciousness in the sewer tunnels, if only briefly, while she was being carried on the maniac's back. It's hazy at best, but if Vi is to be honest, she prefers it that way. Knowing she's been beaten by the crazy bitch is humiliating enough. Having to be recaptured like some damsel in distress makes it even worse. The less she can recall, the better.
Come to think of it, her presence here means the others must've at least fought the bomber off, maybe they even caught her – Vi can't be the only one to have suffered from the blast, after all.
"You're awake." A voice somewhere between surprise and the exhausted sort of relief sounds out from where the door should be – Vi doesn't bother to look, craning her neck like that would hurt. She knows this voice well enough.
"Sup, Hammerhead. What in cogs are you doing here?" Of all the people she would expect to come visit, Jayce is not one of them. Sure, he's a friend, and a bleeding-heart at that, but they're both cut from the same cloth in that they don't believe in visiting someone most likely asleep. "Say, what time is it?" And what's with the tuxedo? What is he, on a date?
"Well, I came here with you, or after you, being precise," he begins as he walks over, pulling himself a chair, and setting his hammer down by the wall. "Caitlyn asked me to stay with you after I found you out-cold on the streets – thank me anytime, by the way. And as for time, it's... five fifty-three," he finishes after pulling out a watch from his pocket. Vi wonders if it's just a watch, she saw the man use one as a small bomb, once. "You should be sleeping, it's only been a few hours."
"What can I say? I'm a tough girl." She tries to laugh, and fails miserably as she's caught by a painful coughing fit. "Okay, just putting it out there, no jokes. I can't laugh right now." She cracks a mock smile, hiding her panicked thoughts behind it. Because what does he mean he found her? What - did Jinx simply drop her off on the streets after hauling her ass for... however long it was? What possible reason could she have for that?
"Sure, I wouldn't wish our little enforcer to suffer a belly ache." Oh how Vi wishes she could punch this smarmy smile off his face. "I'm curious, though. How did you wind up two clicks from the factory?"
Yeah, well, Vi has to admit to being curious about that one, as well. If no one saved her, then it it means that the psycho herself must've dropped her off. Two clicks... Vi could drag a grown human that distance, but she didn't think the girl capable. Not with those sticks that pass for her limbs.
"I got out through the canals," she says at length. It's technically true, it's just that it wasn't on her own feet. She's doing nobody harm by sparing herself the embarrassment.
"Didn't go that well, I take it?"
"What gave it away?" she asks with chagrin. "How bad is it?"
The man takes a deep breath, holds it in for a moment, before finally blowing his cheeks out.
"Bad. The factory's razed to the ground. The rest of the district got off somewhat better. You know. In comparison. What happened in there?"
"Jinx had the whole place rigged before I ever got there. And I fucked up, she got a drop on me but- I think she screwed something up too, blew up the building right behind us. I woke up in the fire and ran."
"And glad I am for that, but what about Jinx?"
Well, the maniac was standing right next to her when she blew that depot up, so...
"More or less like me, I guess. We were both caught by that explosion, so I'd say she's gonna lay low for a while, if nothing else."
"I'm sure Caitlyn will be delighted to hear that. It's a hexstorm out there, the press is having a field day throwing blame around, and the factory owner... I think you can guess without me spelling it out. There's only so much she can can do at once. She's got you covered for now, but you're in for it after you get out."
A groan sounds from Vi's throat. Of all the- why can't people understand the necessity of collateral? Sure, a whole factory- well, a whole district might be... much, but it's not like it wouldn't have happened had she not moved in.
Screw it. She's been dealing with this sort of stuff since day one of joining PPD. No point starting worrying over it, now.
"Hey Futureboy," Vi speaks up, intent on steering their conversation towards a different topic. "You said Cait asked you to stay here with me?"
"That's what I said. Have you damaged your hearing, as well?" Ass.
"Cait asked you, huh?" She wiggles her brows.
"Gears, you did dama... oh no. We're not having that conversation again."
A shit-eating grin spreads on the pinkette's hurting lips. Let the worries wait for now, she'll deal with them when they rear their ugly head.
She feels drained and in pain as she applies yet another plaster onto yet another cut. It took Jinx some time to even get this far, washing all the blood and grime off her skin was no easy feat with the way her muscles flare up with every little movement.
Jinx began feeling that way some time after she hauled Fatass out of the sewers, when the adrenaline rush she's been running on finally wore off, leaving the Loose Cannon to experience all of her wounds in full. Spent, hurt, and blissfully accomplished, she's returned to her hideout located not so far from the famous Sun Gates – the abandoned workshop atop a clock tower. The place was walled up when she first found it, a state of affairs that did not last long with the girl's curiosity as to what's inside. There's actually another workshop in the tower, but it's located way below on the ground floor, some fifty meters down. She's almost in plain sight, really. Funny how that's the first place she managed not to get booted from withing the week of finding it.
It's a nice place, too. Spacious, with three rooms in total: a functional bathroom, of which sink Jinx has modified to supply water for something loosely resembling a shower, after she dug a hole between the wall and floor to let the water outside. Another of the rooms is a workshop with a good view of Piltover's town hall through the window – it's fitted with a worktable, and a couple of shelves for various tools the girl brings back from her escapades. Last but not least, is the little storeroom, where she keeps her supplies along with the bombs she makes, right beside her bed – a worn mattress. The finished rounds don't smell as strong. She may like the scent of the chemicals she works with, but their sharpness makes it difficult to sleep, sometimes.
At the moment, the naked bluenette is administrating all the medical attention she's capable of to herself. Which is to say whatever painkillers she hadn't used before her latest outing. Her wounds are mostly superficial, but for the select cuts and a giant bruise on her back. The burns are gonna be a pain for a day or two, the itching red covering most of her skin, but it's not like she hadn't been through worse. It's enough to just live in Zaun to get one's skin to peel. Either way, nothing's so off about her that she'd need to find a doctor to bully into treating her, that's always a bother. No. She will do just fine with what she has at hand.
The girl winces as she wipes clean the graze on her jutting hipbone. She must've gotten it when she fell after starting the show.
Honestly though, it should probably hurt a bit more. Is her old antiseptic at fault, or is she still not completely off her chase high? Whatever. Not like she's gonna do a supply run tonight, anyways. She spent too much time wrapping all her limbs in bandages to have them fall off when she starts moving again. Not one of her strong points, wrapping. Buckethead was always much better at it. It'll do, but she couldn't help but laugh when she saw her handiwork, until her lungs started hurting. She sorta looks like- like that Shuriman thing... urgh.
Jinx sticks the last plaster to her forehead, and takes a step back from the mirror to admire her workmanship.
She looks ridiculous.
Maybe she should've just had a go and made a proper... thing – out of herself. What would she do with her hair, though? Stick it under? The knots would be impossible! Besides, she thought about cleaning her scalp, but washing her hair would mean putting the bandaging off until- too long, lest she'd ruin the cloth with her wet hair. For now, she gathers up the mess on her head into an untidy ponytail, deciding to deal with it when she next wakes up, and grabs the end of it as to not let it drag on the ground to avoid tripping herself over it.
Jinx rolls her shoulders, letting some sharp tension bleed out of them, and makes way to the workshop, where she left her friends lying on the table. She leans against the window, admiring the view of the city. Specifically, the flaming glow in the distance. A grin almost splits her face in two at the memory of the fireworks painting the night sky. Sadly, not much but the memory is left of the lights by now, the red of the fire slowly giving way to the red of the rising sun. Pity.
She looks over at the table upon which she discarded her ruined clothes, singed and torn, with no use for them beyond scrapping for belts. That's when she notices the staring.
"What is it Fishbones?"
"I just want to ask, how are you feeling?"
The criminal turns back to look outside again. How is she feeling? Beside the pain and exhaustion, she actually feels pretty great. Her plan might've went sideways, but meh, details. Not like she wasted much time devising it. Maybe a few seconds. Tops. She didn't even plan to go to that factory when she originally went for a stroll that evening. It just kinda happened. She was meant to grab something to eat, and then-
Huh. Now that she thinks about it, she never did grab that something. When was the last time she ate again? The night before that? Doesn't matter, she's not hungry, anymore. What matters is that she got to play with Fathands tonight. She'd hoped she'd find Pinktard when she set out on her trip, and although it took some effort to lure her in, Jinx was not disappointed by her officer. Moron's reliable like that, always ready to join the fun.
A smile dances on her lips, before something unwelcome stirs in her stomach at the image in her mind, that of a beaten, unmoving, bleeding, and burnt enforcer. It wasn't supposed to go like that. They were to witness the explosion of the production hall, then the warehouse. And then- then she'd have thought of something on the fly. So she kinda botched things when she used the wrong detonator. But again. Details. She had a great time.
Now if only that thing in her gut would go away.
"It's great. My back's killing me but- heh, I got off better than Fats."
Her friend stays silent for a moment.
"I think you're worried about Vi." Jinx's attention snaps solely to the Rocket Launcher as she whirls around, hands crossed.
"Fishbones, what did I tell you about trying to psychoanalyze me?" She growls, annoyed that, once again, he starts their ages old argument.
"Erm... I'm never letting you drag me to a doctor again? But it doesn't-"
"But nothing! Shut up! Can't you bother Pow-Pow for once?"
"He's mute, Jinx. And you're avoiding the question. Are you worried about her?" She really ought to replace this piece of junk, one day. The nerve on him! Bothering her with that stuff till she starts talking.
"Why would I be? We're one-upping each other all the time, what's the point? She can take care of herself."
"Is that why you carried her out of the fire, back there?" Oh c'mon-
'That's different and you know it! She was out! She'd burn there and who would I play with, then? Hat Lady?" Yeah no, that would be sooo boring...
"And her gauntlets? You made it entirely too hard for yourself, carrying all of them at once. Would you do that for anyone else?"
"And how is she supposed to chase us without 'em? Dur."
"Or maybe you didn't want her to lose them? Because you know how you'd feel if you lost me?"
"Oh, I'd sing and dance in joy." She angrily murmurs under her breath. "I need her to have them. End of the story."
"You didn't need to wait on the roof until someone found her."
"Fishbones! You don't shut up, I'm gonna do to you what I was gonna to that oversized potato masher in the future-cave!" No getting electrocuted this time, either. The Rocker Launcher remains silent after her last remark. "That's what I thought."
She shoots her nosy friend one last glare before walking out of the room, leaving him to think on his lonesome. Spent after the argument, she throws herself at her mattress in the other room, only realizing her mistake after she hits the surface.
Gritting her teeth, the girl lies still as possible, waiting for the pulsating hurt to go away. She's not sure how long it takes. Time is a slippery concept - minutes passing for hours with hours like days. Too many days. Too long. Always too long.
Only, when her every move no longer threatens to set her body aflame does she dare to wriggle a bit in a search for a less uncomfortable position. It takes too long to find it, too long to fall asleep, with the stirring in her stomach never going away.