Entering the final stretch now.
Act 3 Chapter 2: Over and Under
Jinx woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open to the soft light filtering through the small cracks in the blinds. The bed she lay in was unfamiliar, but comforting. She blinked, her mind still clouded by the remnants of sleep, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.
A rush of warmth spread across her face as the memories of last night resurfaced. His soft gaze, the weight of his words, and—most vividly—the press of his lips. Her chest fluttered with the recollection, her stomach twisting into knots she couldn't quite name.
She groaned softly, pressing her palms into her eyes as if she could banish the thoughts. Get a hold of yourself, she thought, frustration mingling with the swirling emotions. Her, of all people, acting like a little girl fussing over a boy. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it—almost. The way her heart skipped a beat—or two at the thought of him, the lingering warmth she couldn't shake. It wasn't supposed to feel like this—she wasn't supposed to feel like this.
But she couldn't say she hated it.
Her eyes shifted toward the other side of the room where the problematic boy lay on the floor. His back was turned, his body hunched in a way that almost made him look… cute, though she'd never admit it. Never out loud, anyway.
A mischievous grin tugged at her lips as she swung her legs out from under the covers, her feet brushing the cool wooden floor. Her mind buzzed with ideas, a blur of potential pranks to surprise him, to see his eyes widen in that mix of confusion and amusement.
Quietly, she crept toward him, each step measured and deliberate. She leaned in close, curious to see his face—but before she could get too close, his lips curled into a grin.
"I'm a light sleeper," he said, voice teasing.
Jinx froze, blinking in surprise. In one swift motion, Ekko launched himself at her, pulling her into a playful tackle. She let out a startled yelp that quickly dissolved into a laughter, her usual sharpness replaced by a rare, unguarded warmth.
The room seemed to spin as Ekko pinned her down, both of them caught in a moment of lighthearted chaos. Jinx felt her heartbeat quicken—not with panic, but something else entirely. Something unspoken between them. She could easily push him off, escape his grip, but she didn't. She didn't want to. Instead, she relaxed into the moment, her laughter blending with his as their eyes locked.
For a brief second, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of them. Jinx's mind spinning from the intimacy—especially with last night's events so fresh in her mind. But the moment shattered just as quickly as it came as a soft knock broke the stillness.
"Ekko? You awake?"
It was Scar's voice—steely, masking urgency beneath the calm. But Ekko's expression immediately shifted, his previous playful grin slipping from his face. His body tense as he pulled away from Jinx and straightened up, rolling off her and sitting up.
"Yeah?" he called, his voice sharper now, every trace of levity gone.
"You'll want to see this."
—
Ekko tapped his feet in rhythm against the worn wooden floor, his gaze fixed on the pamphlet in front of him. Its bold lettering announced Sevika's public execution, accompanied by a long list of supposed crimes. He didn't need to read them to know most were fabricated, carefully crafted to justify the spectacle. His lips pressed into a thin line, his frown deepening as his eyebrows knitted together.
"This seems extreme," Ekko muttered, his voice low but weighted. "Even for topside standards."
"So what do you want us to do, boss?" a voice called out from the back, breaking the tense silence.
Ekko's gaze swept the room, landing briefly on the faces of his crew. The mood was thick with unease, the sheer audacity of the topsiders' move shocking even the most hardened among them. "What is there to discuss?" Ekko asked, his tone sharp, decisive. "We have an execution to stop."
The declaration hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite, but instead of immediate agreement, murmurs rippled through the group.
"Is it really the best idea?" someone asked hesitantly.
"It's too risky," another voice murmured.
"What if it's a trap? She's not even Firelight," came a sharper comment from the corner.
Ekko raised a hand, cutting through the noise with a gesture that commanded attention. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. His voice was steady, carrying the weight of a leader who'd seen enough injustice to last a lifetime. "I know Sevika, and we didn't see eye to eye on many things. But if we let this happen—if we let a leader of the undercity get executed for nothing," he paused, letting his words sink in, "then why do we even exist?"
The silence was heavy, thick with unspoken agreement, but before Ekko could continue, a familiar voice broke through.
"So what are we waiting for?" Jinx's playful tone rang out, cutting through the tension like a knife. The crew turned to see her leaning casually against the wall in the corner of the room, her expression teetering between boredom and amusement. "We've got a party to crash."
"This is a Firelight—" one of the crew started, his voice laced with annoyance.
"Yaddi yadda," Jinx interrupted, her fingers making a mock pinching motion as if squeezing the words out of existence. "If you buggies won't do it, I guess I'll just do it myself."
Ekko chuckled softly, the tension in his face easing just slightly at her antics. "We'll do this together," he assured, his voice firm but calm. "But those who don't want to participate can leave now. No one is being forced into this."
The room shifted as glances were exchanged, uncertainty flickering briefly in a few pairs of eyes. But no one dared move.
"No one?" Ekko asked, his tone carrying a note of finality. He nodded firmly, satisfaction flickering in his expression. "Then let's get to work."
—
Vi was confused. Which, to be fair, wasn't an entirely uncommon state for her—especially since moving to Piltover, where the rules seemed to shift with every glance and every speech hiding a double meaning. All Piltie nonsense of course, but she always tried her best, for Caitlyn's sake. Which brought her to her conundrum. This time, her confusion wasn't about bureaucracy or politics. It was about Caitlyn Kiramman. Specifically, Caitlyn Kiramman humming.
And Caitlyn Kiramman did not hum. Not when she was working a case, not when they were sharing quiet moments, and certainly not when they were gearing up for a raid.
Vi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Caitlyn moved about the room, her usually composed demeanor disrupted by an unusual spring in her step. It wasn't just the humming; it was the way Caitlyn's lips kept twitching like she was fighting back a smile, the way her eyes sparkled with some untold secret.
"Alright, out with it, Cupcake," Vi said, her mock frustration barely masking her curiosity. "What's got you buzzing to tell me?"
As if Caitlyn had been waiting for that moment, she turned to Vi in a flash, closing the distance between them so quickly that Vi blinked in surprise. Caitlyn's excitement was practically radiating off her, her every movement light and deliberate, her expression the picture of restrained glee.
"A little birdie told me we're getting back up tonight," Caitlyn announced, her voice carrying the singsong cadence of someone who knew they were about to drop a bombshell.
Vi raised an eyebrow, her confusion only deepening. "Backup? For what?"
"The warehouse raid," Caitlyn clarified, her smile widening just a touch.
"That's it?" Vi's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. "That's what's got you all excited like a schoolgirl?"
"You haven't asked who told me this," Caitlyn replied, rolling her eyes, her tone playfully chastising.
"Okay, sure," Vi drawled, pushing off the wall. "Who told you that?"
"Not even a guess?" Caitlyn asked, her mock disappointment accompanied by a teasing tilt of her head. "Where are your investigative instincts?"
Vi shrugged, unimpressed. "I'm a punch-first-questions-later kinda gal, remember?"
Caitlyn leaned in slightly, her grin sly. "Ekko."
The name hit like a bolt of lightning. Vi straightened abruptly, her eyes wide as she rounded on Caitlyn. "What?" Her voice was sharp, her words tumbling out in rapid succession. "Where is he? Is he okay? How'd he get out? Why'd you only tell me now?"
Caitlyn stared at her, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly waiting for her to stop.
Vi blinked, realizing her outburst, and exhaled. "Okay—right. Sorry. One question at a time."
Caitlyn's features softened. "He's fine," she assured, her voice gentle. "From the short communication we had, anyway. He didn't share many details, just that he's back and ready to help."
Vi's brow furrowed. "How'd you even hear from him?"
"A note," Caitlyn said simply, her hand motioning toward her desk. "Slipped into my office. No one saw who left it."
"And you didn't think to bring me along?" Vi's tone held a note of disappointment, though it lacked accusation. More resigned than angry.
Caitlyn's expression shifted, guilt flickering across her face as she stepped closer. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arm around Vi, pulling her into a side hug. "I'm sorry. The message was urgent."
Vi leaned into the embrace, her head shaking slightly. "As long as we know he's okay," she murmured, her voice quieter now, the edge of her earlier frustration fading.
Caitlyn nodded, her gaze distant for a moment before she spoke again. "We're making the right choice… right?"
Vi glanced at her, her expression steady despite the uncertainty lingering in Caitlyn's voice. "We'll make it right."
—
The atmosphere was somber with the weight of each decision weighing in the air of the meeting room of the hideout. The constant hum of murmurs from the crew in the background did little to mask the tension that hung in the air. Jinx sat in the corner, her eyes flicking from one person to the other as the debate between Scar and Ekko unfolded before her.
"We can't afford to split a large force here, Ekko," Scar's voice was steady, his jaw set and his posture rigid with resolve. "Especially with our forces scattered as they are."
Jinx's attention shifted to Ekko, who sat with his hands drumming nervously on the table. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the tension in his shoulders was evident. She could see the weight of the decision on him, and for a brief moment, she felt the pull of his indecision.
She frowned. To her the answer seemed obvious even as her heart beat at the thought of it. She needed to go. The cleanest option was right there in front of him, and yet, he seemed hesitant.
"I made a promise," Ekko's voice broke her train of thought, soft but resolute.
"If we don't have all hands on deck for Piltover Square, the risks will be too high. That space is too open, too exposed for a small team," Scar added, urgency in his voice.
Jinx's gaze remained on Ekko, the hesitation still evident on his face. She caught the brief flicker of his eyes toward her, and realization settled over her like a weight—he was trying to protect her, trying to keep her from getting involved. In case she wasn't ready. Ever the boy savior—her boy savior. The thought tugged at the corners of her lips, a fleeting smile she didn't even try to suppress.
But she shook her head, brushing the thought aside. No matter his intentions or the quiet sweetness of his concern that stirred something in her chest, she knew better. There was no such thing as being ready for this. No perfect opportunity, no ideal moment waiting on the horizon. She needed to go. She needed to be the one to face her sister, to help her.
"I'll go," Jinx spoke up, her voice betraying a slight uncertainty.
Ekko's expression tightened, his features momentarily grimacing before he turned to face her fully. "Are you sure?" His question was soft, hesitant, as though he feared her answer as much as he needed to hear it.
Jinx's eyes narrowed slightly, her chin lifting in a defiant gesture. "I can handle myself," she replied, her voice steadier now, the edge of confidence creeping back in. "You've seen it first hand."
Ekko exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he considered her answer. "I know," he said, but his voice was laced with something more—something that hinted at a deeper concern. "But that's not what I mean."
Jinx's gaze hardened for a moment, her frustration building. "I'll have to see her eventually," she muttered, her eyes meeting his.
Ekko sighed, his body slouching in resignation, before giving her a tired nod. "Okay, just… stay safe."
Jinx nodded and pulled up from her seat turning to leave but before she was out the door Ekko spoke, stopping her.
"See you on the other side?" His voice was uncertain now, the rest of the question left unspoken in the silence that followed.
Jinx turned her head, meeting his gaze, her own face softening for a moment. She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "See you on the other side."
—
Vi stood quietly in the building across the warehouse, her new gauntlet softly whirring as she flexed her fingers into a fist before releasing them. The motion was methodical, almost mechanical. She didn't need to test it—she knew it worked. But she wasn't fooling herself; this wasn't about the gauntlet. It was about something deeper, something heavier weighing on her before the raid.
Her gaze drifted to the gauntlet's exterior, the hexcore now pulsed within a protective cover. It was an upgrade she had applied herself, hastily adapted from one of the spare pairs she'd scavenged. It was crude, practical, and jarringly out of place against the sleek, original design. Under different circumstances, she might have felt a small flicker of pride at her resourcefulness, but now? Now it was just another reminder of how much she lost—a reminder of who she lost.
The faint hum of activity from outside filtered into the warehouse, snapping Vi out of her thoughts. She glanced toward the entrance, the distant shuffle of guards faint but distinct. Caitlyn's voice, low and purposeful, came beside her like a steadying anchor.
"The guards are switching," Caitlyn whispered, pulling Vi's attention fully back to the present. "This is our chance."
Vi straightened and met Caitlyn's eyes, her focus sharpening. "And the backup?" she asked, her voice low but steady.
"On the way, according to the last message," Caitlyn replied, her words calm but carrying an undertone of weight. "They'll come when they come." Her tone shifted slightly, a faint attempt at reassurance. "But ideally, we won't need them. We'll be in and out before they even get here."
Vi gave a small nod, the determination returning to her gaze. "Okay," she said, the edges of her lips pulling into a faint smirk. "Let's do this, Cupcake."
—
Sevika slumped against the damp, cold wall of her cell, the sharp metal of the shackles digging into her wrists, a constant, irritating pressure. The only light in the room came from a flickering torch at the end of the hallway, casting weak shadows that barely reached her. Time was meaningless now. She couldn't remember how long she'd been here. Days? Weeks? Maybe longer? It all blurred together in the silence.
At first, she tried to keep track—marking the walls with whatever she could find, scraping the concrete with her nails, but the marks faded, and the days kept slipping away. There was no clock, no sun, no change, just the same cold stone and the sound of water lapping against the prison's foundation.
What was the point? Her days were limited, but it almost seemed like a reprieve from all of this, an escape. Almost.
She growled under her breath, frustration evident. "To think the girl lived seven years in this hellhole," she muttered, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.
A rough clanging of metal at the door shook her from her thought, her gaze locking with a guard standing in front of the now open cell door.
"Prisoner," the guard announced, his tone flat. "Transfer for execution."
Sevika stood slowly, her eyes narrowing. She spat on the floor in front of her, gathering her resolve. If she was going to meet her end, she would face it with her head held high. No Piltie was going to see her broken.
—
Caitlyn was confident. Which, of course, wasn't unusual for her. She was never the doubting type—and she certainly wasn't going to start doubting now as she and Vi navigated the dimly lit corridors of the supposedly abandoned warehouse. Supposedly doing a lot of the heavy lifting here.
Their steps were light, deliberate, and purposeful, blending seamlessly with the quiet of the building. They knew the window was short, but still, Caitlyn felt assured she had calculated and memorized all of this after all.
The ledger Renata had provided was more than just a list of Steven's dealings—it contained detailed schematics of the warehouse and a list of patrol routes. Caitlyn couldn't help but shudder as she thought about how Renata had managed to gather all this information.
She felt her assurance rewarded when both of them managed to make it to the door of the office, but she didn't dwell on the feeling. Dropping to a crouch, she pulled a lockpick from the small pouch at her side, her fingers steady and got to work.
Next to her, Vi shifted, the faint sound of her gauntlet brushing against the wall betraying her restlessness. "Any day now," Vi muttered under her breath.
"Give me a sec," Caitlyn shot back, her voice low but firm, her focus unwavering as the lock resisted her initial attempts.
A few tense moments passed before the soft, satisfying click of the lock yielding broke the silence. Caitlyn allowed herself the briefest of smiles as she turned the knob carefully, easing the door open. Without hesitation, they slipped inside, their movements practiced and silent. Caitlyn turned to lock the door behind them again, ensuring their entrance wouldn't be discovered too quickly.
The room was dark, shadows stretching across the walls as the faint smell of ink and old paper lingered in the air. Caitlyn and Vi exchanged a brief glance, a silent understanding passing between them. The quiet click of flashlights breaking the stillness signaled the start of their search, thin beams of light cutting through the darkness as they began their work.
The office was simple, almost unnervingly well-kept compared to the deteriorating state of the rest of the building. It didn't take them long to find the cabinet they were looking for, tucked neatly against the far wall. But Caitlyn's flashlight beam caught the glint of a combination padlock, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Of course," she muttered, crouching down to examine it. She sighed, the padlock rendering her lockpicks useless. "This might take a bit," Caitlyn said, leaning in to listen carefully for the faint clicks of the tumblers.
Vi groaned softly behind her. "Yeah, no."
Before Caitlyn could react, Vi stepped in and gently nudged her aside.
"Vi, wait—"
But Vi didn't wait. She grabbed the padlock with one of her gauntlets and smashed it with the other in a single, precise motion. The close distance muffled much of the sound, leaving a dull thud to echo in the room. Vi tugged the broken lock free with a surprising gentleness, turning to Caitlyn with an expectant, smug grin.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, hiding the small flicker of admiration she felt. She rolled her eyes instead, muttering under her breath, "Show-off," as she carefully opened the cabinet.
Inside was a trove of ledgers and documents, each one damning in its own right. Caitlyn sifted through them quickly, her gloved fingers brushing over incriminating transactions, coded messages, and names she recognized instantly. A small, triumphant smile tugged at her lips.
"See? What'd I tell you?" Caitlyn said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Easy as pie."
The words had barely left her lips when the door to the office swung open. Both women froze. A man stood in the doorway, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies. His cheerful whistling died instantly as their gazes locked.
For a brief, charged moment, no one moved. Then the man's face drained of all color, and with a shrill scream, he bolted out the door, abandoning his cart as it clattered to the floor.
"Just peachy," Vi muttered, already stepping toward the door. Before she could make it, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable clang of metal pipes and the low murmur of voices.
The first figure appeared, a patrol guard gripping a bat, his expression hard. Behind him, more silhouettes crowded into view, each armed with makeshift weapons.
Vi sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You just had to say that, didn't you?" she muttered in exasperation.
—
Renata Glasc adjusted the cuff of her pristine suit, her fingers lingering a moment too long. For once in a long time, she felt a flicker of unease—a sensation she despised as much as she did weakness. She wasn't one for unnecessary gambles. Every move she made was carefully calculated, her odds meticulously stacked in her favor. But this time… this time, she couldn't quite say the same.
Her eyes narrowed as she paced the length of her private office, the faint hum of Zaun's distant chaos filtering through the thick glass windows. Perhaps she was rushing things. Perhaps she was putting too much faith in the Kiramman girl and her fiery companion. It wasn't like her to trust so easily. But then again, trust wasn't exactly the right word. It was a necessity, a tool—one she was wielding for a very specific purpose.
But was vengeance clouding her judgment? The thought had crossed her mind more than once in recent days. The final step loomed tantalizingly close, the bitter satisfaction of it brushing just within reach. Still, doubt lingered like a shadow in her otherwise clear calculations. Could this reliance on outsiders undermine her work?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. The opportunity was too perfect to pass up. To strike at an entrenched enemy required precision—and presentation. The shot mattered, but who took it—what story they told—was just as crucial. And the perfect messenger had presented herself. Vi, the undercity's scrappy symbol that elevated her status, rising against oppression exposes the councillor's crimes. The story practically wrote itself. Everybody liked an underdog story after all.
Renata stopped pacing, inhaling deeply to center herself. Reminding herself this wasn't the end, not yet. If this gamble failed, there would be time to rebuild, to bide her patience. Patience had always been her greatest weapon, even if it occasionally grated against her pride. Still, a quiet voice within her yearned for this gamble to succeed. Not out of desperation—never that—but because the personal satisfaction of watching her plan unfold against Steven would be exquisite. The public humiliation on his stage, the irony of it all, would be just the reward she craved.
Her lips curled into a faint, humorless smile as she steeled herself. For now, she would watch and wait, letting the board shift as her carefully placed pieces moved.
—
Caitlyn and Vi stood battle-ready behind the office desk, weapons drawn. Caitlyn's rifle was trained on the group before them, while Vi's gauntlets hummed faintly, her fists clenched and ready to strike. The air in the room was thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the faint creak of shifting boots on the floor. Their eyes darted between the men steadily filling the room, each one armed and wearing expressions that spoke of confidence—too much confidence.
"Well, what a pleasant surprise," came a voice from across the room. A man stepped forward, his presence commanding despite his plain attire. His lips twisted into a smug smile as he surveyed Caitlyn and Vi. "The Piltie pet and her enforcer. Didn't expect you two to drop in uninvited."
Neither Caitlyn nor Vi responded, their stances unwavering as the group closed in, weapons raised.
"Nothing to say? That's fine. We'll make quick work of you," the man's smirk deepened. "Get 'em boys—but make sure to keep 'em breathing. Our man Stevie would like 'em alive."
Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. Vi launched herself forward, her gauntlets crashing into the nearest attacker with a deafening clang, sending him flying into a stack of crates. Caitlyn ducked low, her rifle's muzzle flashing as she fired precise shots, each one finding its mark. The air filled with the sharp clatter of gunfire, the dull thuds of fists meeting flesh, and the shouts of men scrambling to retaliate.
Vi swung wide, her gauntlets colliding with a metal pipe, sparks flying as her opponent stumbled back. "Stay down," she growled, before pivoting to shield Caitlyn from an incoming blow. Caitlyn used the opening to fire another round, her sharp eyes tracking every movement in the dimly lit room.
Vi swung wide, her gauntlets colliding with a metal pipe, sparks flying as her opponent stumbled back with a grunt. "Stay down," she growled, pivoting to block an incoming blow meant for Caitlyn. Caitlyn used the opening to fire another round, her movements sharp and deliberate as her eyes tracked every motion in the dimly lit room.
"I guess the ledger didn't include cleaning rounds, huh?" Vi quipped, slamming another figure into the wall with a satisfying crunch.
Caitlyn snorted faintly, her focus unwavering as she fired another shot. But beneath her calm demeanor, she frowned. They were holding their own, but it wouldn't last. The room was filling quickly, and the walls were closing in. They were running out of room to maneuver.
The tide began to shift, the weight of their numbers threatening to overwhelm them—until the door burst open. A man stumbled inside, breathless and pale, his arrival bringing a sudden, uneasy pause to the fight. The clamor of shouts and clattering echoed from outside the doorway, following him like an ominous shadow.
"What's all the commotion outside?" the leader barked, his voice rough with irritation as he turned to the newcomer.
The man hesitated, visibly uneasy under the glare. "Well—uh, there seems to be… backup," he stammered.
"Backup?" the leader repeated, his disbelief cutting through the tension. "Then take care of it."
"We can't—"
"And why not?" the leader snapped, his frustration boiling over. "How many are there?"
The man hesitated again, his voice faltering. "Well, uh—about that."
"Out with it, boy!" the leader growled, his temper flaring.
The man swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously to the doorway. "It's only one, sir."
Vi's brows furrowed at the response, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. But she had no time to dwell on the strange answer. Refocusing on the men in front of her, she readied herself, the brief reprieve from the fight renewing her energy.
She didn't know who was outside, but whoever it was, they were buying her and Caitlyn precious time—and Vi wasn't about to waste it.
—
The corridor stretched out before them like a throat, narrow and suffocating, the walls closed in by shadows. Broken bulbs lay scattered across the floor, their shattered glass reflecting the faint light. With no windows to offer any reprieve, the only illumination came from a flickering lantern at the far end, casting long, trembling pools of yellow that seemed to recoil with every step the group of men took. The air was heavy, thick with an unspoken tension, as if the very walls were holding their breath, bracing for the inevitable.
"Stay sharp," the leader of the group muttered, his voice shaky. "The intruder went this way."
The others nodded, though their eyes darted nervously between the dark corners of the hall, hearts hammering in their chests. They were on edge, each of them feeling the weight of the silence that stretched far too long.
Behind them, a boy – no more than sixteen, his face pale and drawn – shuffled nervously, trying to keep up. His eyes were wide, the fear in them clear. He clutched a gun in his hand, but it was almost too heavy for him, his fingers wrapped around it with a sense of uncertainty. His breath was shallow, too fast, a soft tremor in his voice when he spoke.
"I—I don't think we should be here…" he whispered, voice cracking.
"Shut up and keep moving, they're only one," one of the men barked, but his words came out strained. Even he was trying to ignore the growing unease in his stomach.
They rounded a corner, the creak of their boots on the floor deafening in the stillness, and that's when it started.
A flicker of purple.
A flash at the edge of the lantern light—too fast to be real. They all froze, every muscle tensing, eyes wide.
"What was that?" one of them hissed.
The boy's heart leapt into his throat as the group stiffened, trying to peer into the darkness. There was nothing there. No sign. No movement. Only the same silence, thick and suffocating, pressing down on them like a weight.
"Just… the shadows," the leader muttered, swallowing hard.
But another flash of purple danced at the far end of the hall, barely noticeable, like smoke or a trick of the light.
And then, the first scream.
It was a harsh, guttural cry that tore through the air, slicing through the quiet with an almost unnatural sharpness. The man at the front dropped to the ground, his body jerking violently before it stilled.
The boy's eyes widened in terror, but no one moved. No one dared to.
And then, the purple.
It was everywhere. Like an ink blot, spreading slowly across the floor, a streak of violet that seemed to appear from nowhere, trailing in the wake of the unseen figure. The shadow in the hallway stretched unnaturally long, its edges curling with an almost sentient intent. It was as if the darkness itself had begun to move, drawing closer.
"Get back!" the leader shouted, but his voice cracked halfway through. His feet shifted nervously, his weapon raised—but there was nothing to shoot at.
Then another flash. Another figure, too fast to catch.
A second scream—this one higher, panicked. The second man fell to the ground, his body twitching violently as the purple streaks danced across his form, like blood pooling in the shadows. It moved too quickly, too erratically to follow.
The boy's heart was racing, his pulse deafening in his ears. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But his legs felt glued to the floor, paralyzed by fear.
The leader backed up, his hands shaking. "Who's there?!"
But the figure didn't respond. There was no answer—only the faintest scrape of something sharp against stone.
A third man, his breath coming in desperate gasps, turned to the boy, eyes wide with terror. "We need to go!" His voice cracked as he backed away, moving in the opposite direction of the figure that no one could see, only feel.
And then, the final scream.
This one was barely audible, swallowed by the darkness, a low rasp as the last man fell. The boy didn't see it, didn't need to. He could feel it. The weight of something—someone—hovering just behind him.
He turned, his breath coming in frantic bursts, and there, just beyond the flickering lantern light, the purple flickered again. A thin trail of it, almost like smoke, curling around the corner.
The boy stumbled back, his feet catching on something soft. He hit the ground hard, the air knocked from his lungs. His heart pounded in his chest, his body trembling, his eyes locked onto the trail of purple that slowly inched toward him.
There was a sound then. Not a voice. Not a scream.
Just the lightest laugh. So quiet. So unsettling.
It echoed off the walls like a memory, hollow and distant, before it disappeared into the dark. And then, only the sound of his ragged breathing filled the hall.
The purple streak flickered again, closer now, hovering just above the ground, a faint shimmer in the dim light.
The boy reached for his gun, his hands shaking so badly he could barely grip it. But there was nothing—nothing to shoot, nothing to fight.
Just the darkness, pulling him in. And the faint, unmistakable sound of footsteps—so quiet, so slow—drawing closer.
—
Vi stood with her arms hanging loosely at her sides, her chest heaving as she fought to steady her breathing. Around her, the room was filled with low groans and the faint shuffle of the injured—sounds that stood in stark contrast to the brawl that had erupted only moments ago. They had made it through, somehow, but just barely.
The sudden arrival of reinforcements—or rather the singular reinforcement— had turned the tide in their favor, forcing their enemies to split their forces and rush outside to reinforce what they thought was the harder fight. The lull they had been granted was fragile at best, but it was enough to edge them out of immediate danger.
Vi turned her head, her gaze falling on Caitlyn. She was leaning heavily against her rifle, her breaths coming just as rushed and ragged. Her usually sharp posture was slouched, her exhaustion evident in the way her shoulders sagged.
"You okay?" Vi asked, her voice hoarse and tinged with concern.
Caitlyn didn't immediately respond, her eyes fixed ahead as if she were trying to will herself to keep standing. Finally, she gave a small nod, her lips parting just enough to say, "Still standing."
Caitlyn straightened, forcing her shoulders back despite the obvious groaning her muscles gave. She glanced toward the window, where the first hints of morning light filtered through. The rising sun cast long shadows across the room, adding to the tension hanging in the air. "We should move," she said quietly, her voice a little steadier now, though still tinged with exhaustion. "Keep watch, I'll find what we came for."
Vi gave a sharp nod in response, her posture remaining alert despite her own fatigue.
—
Jinx's breath was quick but measured, her pulse racing in sync with the pounding in her chest. She stood in the shadows, her back pressed against the cold stonewall of the narrow hallway. The flickering light from the distant lantern barely reached her, leaving the space around her thick with darkness. Silence hung in the air, oppressive, almost tangible. It was the calm before the storm—the brief moment where nothing moved.
She looked down at the fallen men, their bodies sprawled across the floor, their breaths shallow. The one closest to her, a boy no older than sixteen, had fallen with a look of disbelief still etched on his face. He was trembling, his gun useless beside him.
A flicker of regret crossed her face, just for a second. Her eyes lingered on the young boy—too young to be part of whatever this was, too innocent to have been dragged into this mess. But Jinx had never been one for sentimentality. She was outnumbered. She couldn't afford hesitation.
She crouched low, the sound of her movement barely audible. There was a chill in the air that sent a shiver down her spine—not from the cold, but from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Baiting small groups into the dark had been part of her strategy. Isolating them, one by one, as the shadows worked in her favor. They never saw it coming. The purple streaks left behind were the only hint that she had been there—a trail that they couldn't quite follow, couldn't quite comprehend.
It was underhanded of course, but even she knew a direct confrontation with them, against such a number was suicide. She had to do it this way.
Jinx's eyes flicked toward the approaching footsteps from the opposite end of the hall—another group, drawn by the screams of their fallen comrades. They entered without noticing her, too distracted by the bodies around them, too consumed by the panic that echoed in their every move.
One of them looked towards the direction of the boy, his steps faltering as he took in the scene. His breath quickened as he realized just how much danger they were in. A second glance at the darkness ahead, and his hand went instinctively to the weapon at his side.
Too slow.
Jinx was already on him.
She moved like a whisper in the dark, silent and swift. Her fingers curled around the cold metal of a pipe lying on the ground, lifting it with ease as she crept toward her next target. She swung it with deadly precision, catching the man across the back of the head with a sickening crack. He crumpled to the floor, his body twitching once before going still.
The others never saw it coming.
Jinx flowed through the hallway—her movements a blur of violet and darkness, a dance that no one could follow. She struck again, and again, her figure flickering in and out of the shadows as she picked them off one by one.
The last man left standing had begun to retreat, his back pressed against the cold stone, his eyes wide with dawning terror. He turned, looking desperately into the dark, but all he saw were the remnants of his fallen comrades—nothing more than broken bodies and fading whispers. And then, the shadows closed in.
She was the storm. The streaks were her wake, leaving nothing behind but whispers and broken pieces.
And then, she was gone.
The hallway was empty now, save for the labored breaths of the fallen. The faintest shimmer of purple trailed behind her—vanishing into the abyss.
Jinx didn't stay to look back. She never did. Her sister was waiting.
—
Vi stood stiff, her body rigid as she kept her eyes locked on the entrance of the office. Every muscle was coiled, ready for anything. The sounds from the hallway—shouts, the clattering of weapons—had all faded. A final distant scream punctuated by a silence. It made Vi's body tense.
The silence crept into the office room they had been occupying. Caitlyn's movements behind her being the only sound, the faint rustling of papers as she sifted through the evidence they had come for, organizing it with practiced precision.
Vi's gaze never left the door. Her hand twitched instinctively around the handle of her gauntlet, her body braced, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble.
"You done yet?" Her voice was low, but sharp, tinged with impatience and barely contained tension.
Caitlyn didn't look up, her focus entirely on the bag she was packing. "Almost," she muttered, the sound of paper shuffling filling the otherwise quiet room. A moment later, she gave a satisfied exhale. "There. Done."
Vi relaxed only slightly as Caitlyn tossed the last of the evidence into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Caitlyn turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Vi's gauntlet shot out, blocking her path. Her eyes narrowed, still trained on the door.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, the faintest sound reached their ears—the soft, steady tap of approaching footsteps. Both women froze, their gazes meeting in a silent understanding. A flicker of doubt flashed in Caitlyn's eyes, but she gripped her rifle, ready for whatever came next. Only hope being that the outcome of the fight outside was in their favor.
But when the door finally opened and the source of the footsteps entered, they both froze.