Act 1 Chapter 2: Dead Symbols Don't Speak
Baron Midstroke stood at the edge of a makeshift stage, the air buzzing with tension. A crowd of restless Zaunites had gathered, their eyes fixated on him, curious to hear what the figure had to say. The stage was an eclectic mess, decorated with hues of blue and pink—the colors now synonymous with Jinx. In front of him stood a rough-hewn statue of her, built with whatever scraps that had been found prior.
"Citizens of Zaun!" His voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a knife. The crowd fell into a tense silence, waiting for his every word. "Look around you. What do you see? You see the city of Piltover—our so-called 'better half,' the ones who hoard the wealth, the power, the control. They've turned their backs on us for far too long, treating us like rats in a cage, like scum beneath their boots."
The crowd stirred
"Do you think they care about you? About your families, your homes, your children?" Midstroke continued, his tone rising in pitch. "No! They care only for their towers, their machines, their precious 'order.' They want to see us crushed, broken, begging at their feet. But that's not who we are! We are Zaun! And we will not bow!"
He paused, letting the words sink in, watching the flames of rage spark in the eyes of the crowd.
"And do you know who showed them what it means to defy their so-called 'order?'" Midstroke's voice dropped, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Jinx. Yes, Jinx. She gave them a glimpse of the chaos they fear, the chaos they've been trying to suppress. She did what no one else had the guts to do—she tore down their tower. She broke their walls, their defenses, their false sense of control. With one act, she showed them that we will not be silenced
"Jinx sacrificed everything for us. She was one of us, fighting for the freedom we all deserve," Midstroke shouted, his fist rising into the air. "She died cleaning up their mess! And they dare to keep us under their boots!"
The crowd roared, a primal surge of anger sweeping through them, shaking the very foundations of the alley.
"So, I ask you!" Midstroke continued, his voice now a rallying cry. "Are you going to stand by and let them walk all over you, like dogs in the street? Are you going to let them get away with murder, with injustice? Or are you going to fight? Are you going to rise up and show them that Zaun is more than just a rat's nest of chemicals and machines? We are a force! A force they can no longer ignore!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, fists pumping the air in unity, a violent spark igniting in their hearts.
"Jinx showed us the way. Now it's our turn. Let's make topside regret the day they ever thought they could keep us down!" Midstroke roared, his voice echoing in the night.
The crowd chanted, their voices rising in a deafening chorus of defiance: "Zaun! Zaun! Zaun!"
Midstroke stepped back from the edge of the stage, his grin widening as the roar of the crowd filled the air.
—
"How could they do this!?" Vi was beside herself, her eyes burning with fury. She paced back and forth in the small room, her fists clenched, every muscle tense with anger. Caitlyn sat quietly in the corner, sipping her tea, trying to stay composed.
"Vi."
"I'm going to find the person responsible for spreading this lie," Vi continued, her voice thick with venom.
"Vi."
"And when I find them, I swear—"
"VI!" Caitlyn's voice cut through the room like a crack of thunder, sharper than she had intended. She slammed her cup down onto the table with a force that made Vi pause, taken aback.
Vi turned to her, surprised by the intensity in Caitlyn's voice. Her rage didn't dim, but it faltered for a moment, eyes still burning with the urge to act.
"Doing so will only escalate things," Caitlyn said, her tone more measured now, but still firm. "We need to approach this calmly, not with more fire."
Vi exhaled sharply, frustration evident in her clenched jaw. "I know… I just… I can't let them get away with this."
"I know," Caitlyn replied softly, her eyes meeting Vi's. "But if we don't keep control, we'll just make things worse. We'll find the truth, but we need to think this through."
"Whoever's behind this… they're good," Vi muttered, her voice low but laced with frustration. "Hitting me where it hurts."
Caitlyn nodded. "Which is why we can't afford to act impulsively. If we lose control of the narrative, it's over."
Vi crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Okay cupcakes, so, what can we do?"
Caitlyn set her teacup aside, leaning forward slightly. "Our intel is thin in the undercity, and we're still untangling the mess of potential double agents on our side. We need eyes and ears we can trust—someone who knows the undercity better than anyone."
Vi raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking Ekko."
Caitlyn nodded again, her gaze steady. "He's resourceful, and the Firelights have their own network. If anyone can help us cut through the noise and find the truth, it's him. Do you think you can convince him?"
Vi's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Convincing Ekko? That's the easy part. Getting him to stop once he's in… now that's a different story."
Caitlyn allowed herself a small smile. "Good. We'll need his help if we're going to stay ahead of this."
Vi turned towards the door, her resolve renewed. "Let's get to work."
—
"Is this what you meant when you said you had more than words?" Sevika's fist slammed against the table, the heavy thud echoing in the room. Her voice, sharp and unrestrained, dripped with fury. Her jaw clenched, and her teeth ground together as she glared at the smug figure across from her.
Baron Midstroke barely flinched. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild curiosity, as though her outburst was an amusing diversion. He took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, the ember flaring briefly before he exhaled a thick plume of smoke directly into her face.
"I can't say I quite understand, Sevika," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "We couldn't afford to delay, you see. So, we simply… stacked the deck in favor of this outcome. A little push to help you make the right decision." His lips curled into a sly grin. "Time is of the essence, after all."
Sevika's hands balled into fists, her knuckles blanching as her anger bubbled just beneath the surface. "Don't push me, Baron," she hissed, her voice a low, menacing growl. "We don't use the dead to serve your schemes."
Midstroke's lips curled into a cold smile. "On the contrary," he replied smoothly. "The dead are ideal for this. Silent and unmoving, they don't speak. We can twist them into whatever we need them to be. Dead symbols don't speak"
Sevika's eyes flashed with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. The very audacity of his words seemed to fuel her anger even more. Her fingers twitched, a clear indication of how close she was to violence. But she held herself back—just.
"Don't think I'm blind to what you're doing," Sevika snarled, her voice low and dangerous, "using the dead like puppets for your own gain. She is not a tool for your manipulations. She didn't sacrifice herself for this," she said as she vaguely gestured towards the Baron.
Baron Midstroke chuckled, the sound low and almost patronizing. "Sacrifice, Sevika? How quaint. I thought better of you than that. We're in the business of survival, not sentimentality. The people will only remember what we tell them to remember. It's all about shaping the narrative, turning tragedy into opportunity." He leaned back in his chair, smirking as he puffed on his cigar. "That's the beauty of power, isn't it? We get to rewrite the rules."
—
Ekko didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the rooftop, staring out over the sprawling city. An hour? Maybe four? Time seemed to blur, slipping away unnoticed.
"See you on the other side."
She had said it softly, a tenderness he hadn't heard from her in years. A tenderness he'd almost forgotten was buried beneath the pain and chaos. For a brief moment, it had sparked something in him—a hope, fragile but real. Hope that, for the first time in a long while, had driven him to pull the Z-Drive one last time. To do what he had to. To see the life that had been promised on the other side.
But now, she was gone. Out of reach. Gone beyond any hope, any help, anyone's grasp. Their dreams together, shattered.
Ekko took a slow, deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs as his gaze drifted down to the city below. It hummed with life, its pulse alive in the streets. Normally, that might've brought a smile to his face—seeing the resilience of life even in the darkest corners. Not now. His mind raced, yet his body felt still, numb—as though he were detached, watching the world from a distance.
He closed his eyes, searching for a moment of peace amidst the chaos. But that quiet didn't last long. The sound of footsteps approaching the ladder broke through his thoughts. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Scar," he said quietly, his voice thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
"Ekko," came the curt reply.
Scar was a man of few words. He didn't come unless there was a reason. Ekko knew that when he showed up, it wasn't for pleasantries.
"Are we something worth building for?"
Her voice echoed in his mind, unanswered. The sting of it cut deep. His brows furrowed as the memory of her words played again.
Scar's footsteps grew closer, the weight of his presence drawing Ekko back to the moment. "Zaun needs you," Scar said, his voice flat but urgent. "More than ever. The lanes are chaos."
Ekko remained silent, his gaze fixed on the city. Scar's voice grew heavier. "Baron Midstroke's using Jinx's sacrifice to stir up the people."
Ekko's stomach twisted at the mention of her name. His eyes narrowed, a spark of rage flickering in his chest, the hum of the city beneath him mixing with the tension in the air. "Not a moment to breathe," he said mostly to himself.
Scar took a breath before continuing, frustration lacing his words. "He's making her death a symbol. Saying the people's hope died in Piltover's games. It's a rallying cry for war. And it's not just Zaun—Topsiders are looking for someone to blame too. Everyone's dancing to a tune I can't…" He ran a hand through his fur, letting out a sharp breath. "We can't afford another war."
Ekko's gaze hardened as he stared down at the city, his thoughts racing. This wasn't the time for regret. He couldn't let her sacrifice be twisted, used for some twisted power play. He wasn't going to let that happen.
Scar's voice broke through his thoughts once more. "If you're still in this fight, you know where to find us." There was a quiet plea in his tone as he turned to leave. "We need you, Ekko."
"To take a step forward is to leave a couple of things behind."
Ekko stared at the city for a moment longer. His breath caught as he recalled her last words. He wasn't sure how many times he had to leave her behind. Not even a moment to keepsake her memory.
Ekko stood slowly, a new determination settling in his chest. This wasn't about the past anymore. He had to make something better for Zaun. For Jinx. For Powder.
He wasn't going to let her death be in vain. He'd see it through.
—
It was late into the night when a soft knock interrupted Caitlyn's focus. She looked up from her desk, her eyebrow arching slightly. "Come in," she called, setting her pen down.
The door creaked open, and Vi peeked through before stepping inside, her expression somewhere between sheepish and amused. "Good news: didn't take any convincing," she said, her lopsided grin attempting to lighten the moment.
Ekko followed close behind, his usual cool demeanor intact, with Scar trailing him like a shadow. They both offered Caitlyn a respectful nod in greeting.
"And the other news?" Caitlyn prompted, her eyes narrowing slightly at Vi's tone.
Vi hesitated, scratching the back of her neck. "We've got one more joining us tonight."
Caitlyn's curiosity deepened as her gaze shifted to the doorway. Her lips pressed into a thin line when the fourth figure stepped into the light and pulled back their hood.
Sevika.
She stood there, her face a mask of stoic defiance, her arms crossed over her chest. There was no apology in her posture, no softness to her gaze. Just quiet resolve.
Caitlyn resisted the urge to groan, her fingers tightening briefly around her desk. "Sevika," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "This is… unexpected."
"She's got her reasons," Vi interjected quickly, her tone almost defensive. "And like it or not, we need all the help we can get."
Sevika's eyes flicked to Caitlyn, her expression unreadable. "I'm not here to make friends, Kiramman," she said bluntly. "But if we're going to stop this mess, we need to work together. No one wins if the city burns."
Caitlyn exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Fine."
—
Jinx's stomach dropped. She took a step back, her mind racing to make sense of the impossible sight before her. Vi just as she last saw her stood there in the dim dusk light of the forest with her enforcer garb, and her mangled arm dangling by her side.
Jinx squeezed her eyes widened. "You're not real," she muttered to herself, repeating it like a mantra, the tremor in her voice betraying her panic.
"You're not my sister," Vi's figure spoke with a hint of rage.
Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her whole body shook, caught between the overwhelming urge to run and the pull of something much darker, much more twisted. The vision of Vi—of the mangled, broken form standing in front of her—stayed fixed in her mind, no matter how much she tried to force it away. This isn't real. It can't be real.
And then, just as her mind began to catch up to what was happening, another voice pierced the silence. A voice she knew all too well. Cold. Commanding. Filled with venom.
"Must you have done things this way?"
Silco's voice echoed through the trees, cutting through the dense air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Jinx's heart skipped a beat, her body stiffening as his presence seemed to surround her.
She spun around, eyes wide, her breath shallow, her heart racing. There, standing in the dim moonlight, was Silco still fresh from the bullet wounds she had given him. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto hers, his gaze full of anger and disappointment. His presence filled the space, dominating it, crushing the air from her lungs.
Silco took a step forward, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. "You think you can just burn it all down — burn the office, the chair, the bar and not suffer the consequences?" he spat, each word a lash that made her wince. "You're nothing but chaos, Jinx. Always have been."
"Look at what you've done," he growled, his voice deep and mocking. "Do you think you can erase your mistakes, Jinx? Do you think you can hide from what you've become?"
Her breath hitched, and her voice cracked as she choked out, "I didn't mean to—"
But Silco wasn't finished. His steps were deliberate, his presence suffocating. "You never mean to," he sneered. "But you always do. And now look at you. Running from the mess you've made." His words were cold and biting, dragging her further into the darkness of her own mind, where every mistake, every failure, every betrayal stood like towering, mocking ghosts.
Suddenly, as if on cue, two more voices sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.
"Did you mean to kill us?" The words came from Mylo and Claggor, their figures materializing from the shadows beside her, their faces twisted in mockery, their voices dripping with the same bitterness that Silco had.
Jinx shook her head violently, as if the motion alone could drown out the cacophony in her mind. But before she could even further attempt to escape the horror, her eyes locked onto two figures in the distance. Two of them together as if to taunt her — to remind her.
Isha. She stood in front of her, broken and scarred, her small, fragile body covered in burns. Her eyes were hollow, lifeless—a haunting, empty void that seemed to stare through Jinx, carrying a weight that no words could ever convey. The sight alone shattered the fragile grip Jinx had on her sanity.
Bhind her, a towering figure emerged—Vander in his monstrous form. He loomed like a dark, monstrous shadow, his presence a cruel contrast to Isha's fragility. His body, similarly burned and disfigured, stood frozen in time. The once-imposing figure of a protector was now a grotesque mockery of strength. His mouth was forced open in an eternal, silent roar—no sound, just the haunting image of a man whose anguish could not be voiced.
Jinx's knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, her hands flying up to clasp her ears as if that could block out the reality before her. Her eyes squeezed shut, but it didn't help. The image of Isha was seared into her mind, and the voices—those cold, accusing whispers—swirled around her like a storm.
The forest seemed to breathe, its branches closing in as though it had come alive to pass judgment. The air grew heavier, suffocating, pressing down on her with a relentless force. Each rustle of leaves, each creak of bark, felt like a whispered condemnation.
"I didn't mean to…" she whispered again, but it came out barely more than a breath. It wasn't an explanation; it wasn't enough. The ghosts of her past surrounded her, their voices filling the air with condemnation.
"I didn't mean to…" she repeated, but this time, it was a question—a plea, a desperate cry for a redemption that seemed forever out of reach. The weight of the words pressed down on her, and the ghosts of her past closed in even tighter. Their voices rang in her ears, growing louder, closer, suffocating her.
But then, as if the very forest had decided to grant her reprieve, the air went still. The voices stopped, as though they had been swept away by an invisible hand. The oppressive weight of the darkness lifted, and the tension in the air began to dissolve. Jinx cracked open her eyes, hesitant at first, half-expecting the nightmare to still be there.
To her surprise, the forest was quiet. The shadows receded, leaving only the soft light of the moon filtering through the trees, casting everything in a pale, almost peaceful glow. She blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden change, and there, standing before her, was an old man.
He was a gentle-looking figure, his features soft and warm, with silver hair and a serene expression. His robe was simple, faded from years of wear, and he carried himself with an air of calm wisdom. The kindness in his eyes seemed out of place in the eerie forest, as though he didn't belong to the nightmare that had enveloped her.
"The forests of Ionia are a dangerous place to be alone at night, young one," his voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves in a spring breeze. "Come now."
Jinx looked around in confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. The voices were gone, the weight on her chest lifted. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting the shadows to come creeping back, but there was nothing. Only the quiet forest remained. The man, however, was waiting, his warm gaze inviting her to follow.
Without a word, he turned and began walking down a narrow path that Jinx had not noticed before. It was well-worn, though not frequently traveled, the edges lined with wild plants and low-hanging branches.
Her mind hesitated. Was he real? Was he part of this strange dream, this escape from the horrors that had surrounded her? She didn't know. She couldn't be sure. But at that moment, the forest felt like a labyrinth of her own making, and the man's calm presence was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her.
"Hurry now," The old man's voice broke through her thoughts as he was already a few steps ahead, disappearing from her view. His tone wasn't urgent, but it carried a quiet insistence, as though he had no intention of letting her stay lost in the woods.
Jinx bit her lip, glancing one last time at the place where the nightmare had consumed her. She was shaken, but she was tired. Tired of running, tired of the voices, tired of the chaos.
Without another word, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled after him, her mind still reeling. Wherever the man led, it had to be better than being alone with her thoughts. The eerie quiet of the forest was welcome after the storm inside her mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx allowed herself to follow. The man had made the noise vanish. And for now, that was all that mattered.
—
"It can't just be the Baron," Ekko said, his voice steady but edged with determination. "He doesn't have the brains to orchestrate something this complex. Someone's pulling the strings."
"I'm with you," Sevika grunted, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering. "Silco never even bothered with Midstroke. The guy was a non-factor, a nobody. Now he's acting like he runs Zaun? Something doesn't add up."
"Agreed," Caitlyn said, her expression thoughtful but tense as she tapped a finger on the desk. "When we dismantled Silco's network, we scoured the Lanes, taking down every Chem-Baron we could find. Midstroke barely registered—he kept his head down, avoided confrontation. Timid."
Ekko nodded. "You did a good job, no doubt. But not every Baron was loyal to Silco, meaning the non loyal ones may have slipped through the cracks"
Caitlyn's eyes narrowed as her mind worked through the implications. "So who's propping him up now? And for what purpose?"
"The Firelights didn't pick favorites. If they were flooding the Lanes with chem, they were a threat. It didn't matter who they pledged allegiance to—poison is poison, so we have a few people of interest" Ekko glanced at Scar, who nodded and pulled out three sheets of paper, handing them over. Ekko spread them across the desk. "That's the question. We've been keeping tabs on a few potential players. These are our top suspects."
Caitlyn picked up the first sheet, her brow furrowing. "Senora Raven. A master smuggler and information broker. She has the intellect for sure"
Scar added, "Raven's network spans from Zaun to Piltover. If she's involved, it would be for profit. But Raven always preferred stability over chaos. And many of her agents scattered before the final fight."
Sevika nodded. "Raven's a survivor, not a gambler. This feels too risky for her." Sevika passed on the second sheet of paper before continuing. "Harken Scournborne. Former leader of the Wharf Gang. Ruthless, and more cunning than most give him credit for."
Ekko frowned. "Harken's been stirring up the Lanes, rallying the disenfranchised. He's power-hungry, no doubt, but he lacks the finesse for something this coordinated, and more importantly he lacks the connections to get in with Midstroke, unless we are missing something."
Sevika shrugged. "He's bold, sure. But this scale? Feels a little out of his depth. I think it's more likely he's taking advantage of the times."
Caitlyn's gaze fell to the final sheet, and her expression darkened. "Renata Glasc. The Chem-Baron who's managed to blend corporate power with undercity influence. She's as much a threat in Piltover's boardrooms as she is in Zaun's alleys."
Sevika's jaw tightened. "She fits the bill. Renata plays the long game. Even Silco respected her. She's patient, methodical. If she's behind this, it's not just about chaos—it's about control. Though they disagreed they knew better than to get in each other's ways."
Ekko crossed his arms. "Her resources, her reach, her ambition—it all lines up. Renata wouldn't just back Midstroke for chaos; she'd use him as a pawn to expand her empire."
Caitlyn leaned forward, her resolve clear. "She has the motive, the means, and the opportunity. If she's pulling the strings, this is bigger than just Zaun. She wants both cities under her thumb."
Vi frowned, her disbelief evident. "But how? Using Midstroke? You think she plans to storm Piltover right after a war? That's suicide."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them like a storm about to break. Everyone's mind raced, trying to piece together Renata's true intentions.
Finally, Sevika broke the silence, her voice low but firm. "I'll talk to her," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "She'll meet with me—for old times' sake, if nothing else."
The tension in the room thickened as Sevika's words hung in the air. The group exchanged glances, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a heavy fog. Caitlyn tapped her fingers on the table, her mind working through the implications.
"You really think she'll meet with you willingly?" Caitlyn asked, skepticism lacing her tone.
Sevika shrugged, her mechanical arm whirring softly as she adjusted her posture. "Renata's not stupid. She knows I'm not coming in blind. Right now — like it or not I am the only other power she needs to contend with in Zaun."
Vi crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall in the back. "And what if this is all part of her plan?"
"Then I'll get us answers," Sevika replied, her voice steady. "One way or another."