Ekko coughed violently as the thick, multicolored smoke swirled around him, stinging his eyes and making it nearly impossible to breathe. His chest burned, each breath feeling like a futile effort. He staggered forward, trying to get his bearings in the chaos.
Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his arm, firm but not aggressive. Before he could react, something was pressed over his face—a mask. The cool rush of filtered air filled his lungs, and Ekko exhaled in relief. He turned to see who had helped him, but the figure had already disappeared into the haze.
The square had erupted into chaos. Despite being a formidable mercenary guild, the attackers hadn't been prepared for this kind of assault. The colorful smoke had thrown them into disarray, and it quickly became clear that the crowd wasn't as docile as they had seemed.
People who moments ago had been silently watching sprang into action, charging at the mercenaries with makeshift weapons—pipes, bats, even bare fists. Among them were others who stood out: their hair dyed electric blue, their clothes haphazardly styled in a way that screamed rebellion. Ekko froze, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. They're like the rebels back in Zaun… people who saw Jinx as a hero.
The vibe was unmistakable. Jinx's chaotic energy, her infectious defiance, was everywhere—manifested in the smoke, in the people, in the fearless way they fought. Ekko's heart pounded as he scanned the mob, desperate to catch sight of her. She has to be here. But no matter how hard he looked, Jinx was nowhere to be found.
He snapped out of his search as the crowd shifted. A blur of movement came at him through the smoke. The woman—the mercenary commander—emerged, her fiery red hair a beacon in the haze. Her knife flashed in the dim light as she swung it toward him. Ekko dodged just in time, the blade grazing his arm. He hissed in pain, but before he could recover, another man charged at him, brandishing a spiked club.
Without hesitation, Ekko pressed the button on his wristband. His hoverboard roared to life, streaking through the smoke like a bullet. It slammed into the man, knocking him off his feet before returning to Ekko's side. With a flick of his foot, Ekko sent the metal pipe flying into his hand, gripping it tightly as he faced the commander.
The woman circled him, her knife held low and ready, her movements calculated. But Ekko didn't wait. He lunged forward, his hoverboard zipping alongside him, its movements synchronized with his own. He swung the pipe in a wide arc, the momentum boosted by the hoverboard's speed.
The woman blocked the first strike with her knife, but Ekko was relentless. He attacked with a series of quick, precise blows, forcing her to retreat. The pipe clanged against her armor, the sound ringing out above the chaos. Her movements, though disciplined, couldn't match the fluid coordination Ekko displayed with his hoverboard.
He flipped the board into the air, using it to block her counterstrike, and in the same motion, swung the pipe toward her legs. She stumbled, barely regaining her footing as Ekko pressed the attack.
The training and instincts of a mercenary were evident in her technique, but Ekko's movements were something entirely different. They were unpredictable, honed by years of surviving in Zaun's streets and fighting in a world where chaos was the norm. Each strike, each maneuver, was infused with the improvisation of a child raised in war.
The mercenary leader's voice cut through the haze, barking orders to regroup. The woman hesitated for just a moment, her focus wavering. Ekko seized the opportunity, landing a solid blow to her arm and sending her knife clattering to the ground. She glared at him, her expression a mix of frustration and grudging respect.
As the smoke cleared and the square came into view, Ekko took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. The rebels around him cheered and regrouped, some still clutching their makeshift weapons, others laughing in triumph. The tension of the fight had dissipated, but Ekko's mind was far from calm.
He looked around, his gaze lingering on the dyed blue hair and rebellious attire of the crowd. It was uncanny, the way they mirrored Jinx's chaotic energy, her signature defiance. He had to know—how had Jinx's influence reached this place? Why was her presence felt so strongly here, in a town she had never set foot in? And what did it mean that these people were standing against the mercenaries?
The clamor died down as Ava stepped forward, climbing onto a raised platform at the center of the square. She stood tall, her expression serious and commanding. Her presence alone silenced the murmurs of the crowd, drawing every eye to her.
Ava's voice was firm, steady, and filled with conviction. "Tonight, you've taken the first step toward reclaiming what is rightfully ours," she began. "For too long, we've been ruled by fear. For too long, we've allowed ourselves to be controlled by those who claimed to protect us."
She paused, her eyes sweeping across the crowd. "But the truth is out now. The so-called mercenary guild—our supposed 'guardians'—are nothing but liars and opportunists. They are not protectors. They are thieves. Parasites. They came to this town not to help us, but to exploit us. To take what little we had and leave us weaker for it."
A murmur ran through the crowd, the bitterness and anger palpable. Ekko stood among them, his mind reeling as he pieced together what she was saying. The guild wasn't what it claimed to be—it was fake, a front for something darker.
"We have uncovered their lies," Ava continued, her voice rising. "They thought they could keep us in the dark, but we see them for what they are now. And tonight, we sent them a message: we will not be used. We will not be silenced. And we will no longer live under their rule!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the walls of the square. Ava let the noise wash over her before raising her hand to quiet them. "This is only the beginning," she said, her tone resolute. "They will come back, and they will come stronger. But we will not falter. We will stand together, as we did tonight. And we will show them that this is our town."
The cheers grew even louder, the energy of the crowd infectious. But Ekko's focus remained on Ava and her words. The mercenary guild's deceit, the rebellion, the people rallying around Jinx's image—it all felt connected, though he couldn't yet see how. One thing was clear: Jinx wasn't just alive—she was leaving her mark on this town, shaping its resistance in her own chaotic way.
After the chaos in the square had subsided, Maya, Ava, and Ekko returned to the small cottage. The warmth of the room felt almost surreal after the night's events, but the tension still lingered in the air. They sat down at the table, where the half-eaten remains of their earlier dinner awaited them. Ava poured more tea, her movements deliberate, as though grounding herself through the familiar routine.
For a while, they ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery the only sound. Then, Ava set her cup down and looked at Ekko with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and determination. "You've been looking for answers," she said. "And after what you saw tonight, you deserve to know the truth."
Ekko leaned forward, his attention sharp. Ava's tone carried weight, the kind that came with experience and responsibility.
"You've probably noticed the blue hair, the way the youth here carry themselves," she began. "It's not just rebellion—it's inspiration. Six months ago, a girl came to Kalstead. Nobody knew where she came from or where she lived, but whenever she appeared, she was impossible to ignore."
Ava's eyes took on a distant look as she continued. "She was young, with electric blue hair and a chaotic style that matched her energy—tight shorts, a sleeveless crop top, gloves that looked handmade, and a long hoodie that hung off her shoulders like a cape. Her boots clattered against the cobblestones, and there was always something wild in her eyes."
Ekko's chest tightened as the description matched perfectly with what he remembered of Jinx after their last confrontation in Piltover. Ava kept talking, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.
"She came into town every so often for food, but she avoided people. She was... different. Unpredictable. And then one day, everything changed. She was caught in the city when the mercenaries came around to collect their so-called protection money. When they came to her, she refused to pay."
Ava's lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. "When they pressed her, she looked them straight in the eye and said, 'Don't worry about me. I've tried to die plenty of times, but I never could.' That girl... she wasn't afraid of them, not even for a second."
Maya chimed in, her voice quieter. "People say she wasn't just fearless—she was something else entirely. When the mercenaries tried to force her, she fought back. A stun gun that shot bolts of lightning, grenades that exploded with smoke and sparks but caused no real harm. She was fast, unnaturally so. She moved like she knew exactly what they were going to do before they did it."
Ava nodded. "It was the first time anyone had ever stood up to them—and won. The way she fought, the way she carried herself... people started talking. They started to believe that maybe, just maybe, these mercenaries weren't as untouchable as they wanted us to think."
Ekko listened, his heart pounding. The pieces were falling into place, each word confirming what he had been suspecting all along.
"She never stayed long," Ava continued. "She didn't seem to want followers, but they came to her anyway. The youth here—they idolized her. They saw her as a symbol of defiance, of freedom. And even though she tried to push them away, she eventually began helping them in her own way. Fixing things. Building things. Teaching them how to make gadgets, like her own."
Maya added, "That's how we got here. That's how we found the strength to fight back tonight."
Ekko couldn't hold back anymore. "Did she ever call herself Powder?" he asked, his voice tight with a mixture of hope and dread.
Ava tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "No. Not to anyone's face. But one of the kids said they overheard her once, muttering in her sleep. She kept saying two names... Powder and Jinx."
The words hit Ekko like a blow. His worst fears and his deepest suspicions had been confirmed. Jinx was alive. She was here—or had been—and her influence was everywhere.