He represented the opposition. The polished, pristine side of the world, the one that made things happen with a calm, controlled hand - or at least made it seem like it did. He was crafty and cunning in a way that evaded both Viktor and Powder. Where people knew to tread carefully around them, Jayce held the aura of authority and certainty - deceit from him was a backhanded surprise no one would ever anticipate. And now, as Powder stood in the sterile light of his and Viktor's lab, she felt like a fish out of water, gaping and receiving air that was not her own. How could the act of breathing even feel illegal? How far away from home was she? Viktor stood between her and Jayce like a transparent shield, barely providing her the reassurance she was unconsciously seeking.
If escaping Zaun had been a challenge, Jayce was simply another wall to climb. She had survived worse, and by the grime and dirt that stuck onto her clothes and buried themselves under her nails, she swore she would overcome him. She stood tall, despite feeling the opposite, as the pervading silence continued to oppress her and her savior's shoulders. Jayce's gaze was heavy, sharp, and calculating - trying to form her into an element he could categorize and control.
When he spoke, his words came with the same precision that marked everything about him. "So this is your new lab partner?" More jealousy than disbelief inflected in his voice and chased the unsurety that stole the breath from Powder's lungs. It made her grin, gone was the facade of a disciplined man, this was just Viktor's other partner. Infidelity, she wanted to roar in laughter. Of all the things that could bother him, it was Viktor's disloyalty that grated on his skin the most. "This is your solution?" She didn't have an inkling of what Jayce was speaking of, but could quickly gather from the haggardly arranged papers and lab equipment that Viktor seeking camaraderie with her was not something unpremeditated.
She could hear said scientist's response, distant and detached, but it was the way Jayce watched her that made Powder shift her weight and frown again. Jayce could voice his dislike for her as much as he wanted, either way, she wasn't a fool to find reprieve in Viktor's company. But then he uttered those words, more for his defense than hers - "She's a potential ally."
Powder didn't flinch. She didn't even move. She remained rigid by his side, willing the punch of betrayal to not show face on her disposition. They had spent countless nights toiling over schematics and ideas, discreetly maneuvering through corridors to avoid detection all for him to dismiss her as nothing but a "potential ally." If she had been the other Jinx, she fancied that an outburst from her was warranted, perhaps a redecoration of their esteemed lab with a hole from one of her purgative creations. Viktor had given her an escape when she had called for it, but she wondered if she traded sleepless nights for a new cage. The Academy was a place where things were controlled, where minds were made into tools. And Powder? Well, Powder was a weapon in a world that had no idea how to use her.
She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping lightly on her sleeve as she let the tension hang in the air. Jayce didn't look convinced with Viktor's claims, and neither was she. Jayce's eyes were narrow, jaw tight as analyzed her once more; she feared if he stared any longer he would be able to put pen to paper and draw her eerie likeness down to the tiny freckles. The next words that came out of him were spoken not for her, but for Viktor, for the friendship and partnership they had endured to create together: "Fine. But understand, I don't make exceptions. If she's here, she's subject to the same standards." Jayce's voice was firm, the edge clear.
Powder leaned against the counter, her smirk returning. "I'm not looking for a sitter," she retorted, her voice sharp. Jayce blatantly tensed, weighing each word that came out of her mouth for the possibilities that could stem from them.. She didn't care. She was used to being judged, used to the scrutiny of people who thought they knew better; Jayce, despite having befriended Viktor, was no better. He was just a man. They all were.
But she wasn't here to be fixed. She wasn't here to be bent into something they could mold. No, Powder had never played by anyone's rules but her own - at least, Jinx didn't, and who was she to deny that persona from manifesting? If she was going to temporarily partake in this sterile world of academia, with its rules and its order—then she'd find a way to tear its walls down, one trap at a time. She wouldn't be confined. Her so-called fellow scientist should have known that.
Jayce's gaze flicked from Viktor to her again, lingering this time, and Powder knew he was deciding what to make of her. There was no fear in his eyes—not yet. But there would be, had to be. For this partnership to work in her favor, Powder needed him to fear her.
"You know," he said, a tone of warning sneaking into his voice, "this place isn't what you expect."
Powder didn't even blink. Jayce was all false threats until proven otherwise. "We'll see about that, won't we?" she answered, her smirk turning feral. She brushed past him, stepping fully into the lab as Viktor followed behind her, looking at Jayce with that familiar calculated expression she had so carefully observed in the past. To see it blatantly displayed confirmed her deepest suspicions - Viktor was but an outsider, and they, just cogs for his choosing. He would discard them as soon as they rusted over. She wondered if Jayce knew that too.
The time spent hidden in their lab was caustic at best, a ticking bomb at worst. Or is it the other way around? Powder frowned as she trailed Viktor's shadow. Much to Jayce's chagrin (and lack of awareness), Powder had finally convinced Viktor to let her into his apartment for some respectable rest. She had all but feigned satisfaction at being hidden in their lab, but the dirt on her body was growing pungent and she was no longer satiated by their biting attempts to keep her mollified. So she beseeched Viktor for a fair passage, a clean bed and shower. He wasn't purposefully withholding those necessities from her, but with Jacye's glower haunting each of their movements, it was hard to remember that she was a person too. She scoffed. You had to be someone special to forget that.
"Has there been any word about me?" Powder jumped at the opportunity for a civil conversation with Viktor. With anyone, really. Jayce treated her like a deranged, stray cat best left alone in the corner and awarded only in the morning with the products of her hunting. Except Powder never had anything to show. They trusted her with so little, talked with her so little, that it was hard to sharpen the weapon that was her mind. Viktor did his best to resume their acquaintanceship, but even that was strained with the overbearing nature of his research partner.
"No." Viktor's reply was hurried as he ascended the last few steps towards his room with surprising dexterity. He unlocked the door and allowed her inside first.
Powder's eyes took some time to acclimate to the darkness - and frigidness, of her companion's home. She watched him with wary eyes as he stepped around her and turned on the lights. A contradictory aroma of old tomes and stringent cleaning supplies prevaded her senses. She wrapped her arms around her body. She was familiar with this cold, but she had been coddled with the warmth of the laboratory for awhile now.
"I didn't have the same central heating growing up as the others," Viktor supplied, taking note of her huddled figure. "I didn't realize you were of the same upbringing as the upsiders." And there he went. Powder narrowed her eyes at him, taking his directions towards his bathroom and his closet in stride. For someone that pretended to abide by Piltover's laws, Viktor was being careless with his words. She could turn tail on him and unveil his deepest secrets, his inclination to belittle their practices and have his shadow followed by more than her prying eyes. But he knew better. She would never rat him out. At least not now, not when her predicament relied on his opinions of her.
Not expecting a reply, (or much anymore), from her, Viktor allowed her free roam of his apartment, having no secrets that would deter a citizen of Zaun. He ventured towards his desk, feigning interest in the scattered blueprints and half-finished prototypes, though his thoughts lingered on the figure lingering just out of view. Even with her plea to use his amenities, Powder was too engulfed in exploring the trinkets of her companion. Not that she would find anything of interest; any personal items that littered his apartment were commonplace at best, superficial for most. He had spent years keeping others at arm's length, save for Jayce's brutish way of meddling into his affairs and concern, but there was something disarming about Powder too—sharp and unpredictable as she was, she carried a vulnerability he couldn't quite ignore. Had long ago cast away.
For her part, Powder moved through the space cautiously, her eyes tracing over the tools and diagrams that littered the surfaces of Viktor's otherwise empty abode. Despite herself, she felt a flicker of curiosity. What better way to know a man then through his home? Yet his apartment was stark but not entirely unwelcoming, a curious blend of precision and chaos that reminded her of her own room that had been doubtlessly ransacked for clues on her whereabouts.
"You're not afraid I'll steal something?" she called out, her tone halfway between a challenge and a jest.
Viktor glanced over his shoulder, his lips quirking into a faint smirk that she thought she would no longer be privy to. "I assume if you intended to, I wouldn't know until it was too late. Besides, there's little here of value to anyone but me."
She huffed a laugh, though it was tinged with bitterness. "You don't know what's valuable in Zaun." Not anymore at least. The times had changed and she too, doubted if she would know how to blend so easily into its crowds once more.
"No," he agreed, his tone softer, "but I understand the value of trust. Even if it is... uneasy."
Her eyes narrowed again, scanning his expression for any trace of mockery or deceit, but found none. Perhaps Jayce had worn down what remnants of fortitude he had left to shield himself from her. She leaned against the doorframe of his living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Trust is a big word," she muttered, daring him to correct his usage of it.
"Big, but necessary," Viktor agreed, not turning around to face her. "Neither of us have much choice at the moment, do we?"
Powder's lips twitched, almost forming a smile before she caught herself. "No, I guess we don't."
The tension in the room eased, just slightly. It wasn't an alliance, not yet - not like the one they had before - but it was enough—a tentative truce born of necessity, a bridge over the chasm of mistrust that lay between them. He had her back for as much as she was willing to sacrifice hers for his.
Such was the fragility of brokered peace among Zaunites. It was an understanding built not on faith but on shared need, precariously balanced like the very technologies Viktor sought to perfect.
And yet, he had learned the hard way how delicate such agreements could be.
"But with Hextech, it could be so much faster—" Viktor's voice was a quiet plea, as though the very suggestion could make the walls around him crumble.
"I know, but—"
"We could save so many lives! We could—"
"Magic is volatile, Viktor, we hardly even understand what we've created this far! Whatever its promise is to you, I swear, it's real - we'll get there, but Heimerdinger is right. We have to do this carefully, methodically. We approach this like we approach science—no magic, no runes, no shortcuts." Jayce's voice was unwavering, as always, as if he could speak the truth into existence just by repeating it enough.
Powder couldn't understand why Viktor, brilliant Viktor, was blind to that mere fact. The notion that magic—no matter how dazzling, how transformative—wasn't a solution. It was a dangerous gamble, a temptation wrapped in the glow of hope and Viktor was chasing it like a moth to flame, just like all those before him who believed they could control what was wild. Just like this world's Ekko with the heavy shoulders, and her sister, with the greedy aspirations. Magic stole. Magic killed. Magic ruined everything.
Viktor's gaze dropped to his leg, his fingers curling around the cane that he leaned on, as if the simple act of grasping it could steady his entire existence. He had cast his hopes onto Powder then, with Jayce's vehement rejection firmly drawing a line between their camaraderie, but he had seen the dejection - the repulsion in her eyes. He had known that it had always been there, nagging at the edges of her gaze, in the protracted way she avoided answering his proposals or finishing his equations. Powder wasn't one to tinker with magic. Not like he and Jayce had. Not like how he wanted to.
The weight of his body shifted, the movement slow, deliberate, as if time was something he could manipulate if he just focused hard enough. Powder watched him, her eyes narrowing in frustration. She wanted to reach out, to shake him until he saw reason, until he understood that his obsession with something faster, something more—wouldn't save him.
"It'll take years," Viktor muttered, his voice tinged with resignation, the hopelessness creeping in as he glanced at the limb that refused to obey him, the same illness slowly strangling his muscles, inching higher with every passing day. "Years I don't have that." His words were heavy, laden with the knowledge of his own fragile mortality. The sickness had already claimed so much of him, his body giving in piece by piece, and he didn't know how much time was left before he would be nothing but a shadow of himself, clinging to the crumbling edges of a dream that had already slipped beyond his reach.
The room was filled with a silence that weighed down like lead. Powder's heart clenched in a way she couldn't explain, a feeling that didn't quite belong in the world she had built for herself. She could feel it, the fear, the quiet desperation that Viktor tried so hard to hide behind his intellect. But it was there, alive in the way his eyes avoided hers, in the way he couldn't meet the truth that hung between them. In the way that Jayce stood tall, a mockery to all that Viktor could never be.
And Powder knew, with a sickening clarity, that this was the role he had chosen her to fulfill - to be the antithesis to Jayce's stalwart disapproval. This was why Viktor had sought out her presence in the outskirts of Zaun, why he had tolerated her rancid quips and garish jokes. He wanted her to fill in the position that Jayce refused to take, and now here she was, mirroring his best friend's ideals - keeping him from truly fighting for the life he wanted. Yet neither of them understood that it wasn't about solutions anymore—it was about survival. And sometimes, surviving meant accepting the ugly truth.
Powder's heart thundered in her chest, but it wasn't out of fear. It was in frustration. She wanted to reach out, to knock some sense into him - into both of them - to make them see that Hextech as a solution was not the way to go. They couldn't keep playing at being saviors, trying to stitch together a world that was already broken with volatile artillery. The only way forward was through real science, not just the methods which Jayce zealously preached—and then, maybe, something new would rise from the ashes. But Viktor wasn't ready for that. Not yet. And neither was Jayce.
But she would be.
She had to be.
The days that followed were paved with broken glass floors and bled together in a haze of arguments, late nights, and the incessant hum of machinery. Nine days since Powder had wedged herself into this pristine world of rules and regulations. Nine days since Viktor had convinced Jayce to let her stay under the pretense of a shared goal.
Powder didn't fit here—she knew that. The lab's clean lines and quiet order were foreign to her, suffocating in a way she didn't want to admit. But she stayed, partially out of stubbornness, partially because she'd finally found herself on the edge of something big, something that didn't rely on magic or machinery but on her own cleverness - and the knowledge of her companions. She wouldn't leave until she saw it through, nor would she admit that their intelligence had allowed hers to grow.
Jayce barely tolerated her from the start, his patience worn thin by her sharp tongue and lack of respect for the rules. He watched her like a hawk, scrutinizing her every movement, every tool she touched. She could feel the heat of his judgment whenever she spoke, especially when her ideas clashed with his meticulous theories. He hated her chaotic energy, her refusal to conform to the neat little boxes he lived in. And she hated him for it, for being the perfect image of Piltover's arrogance.
Viktor, though - Viktor was different. He hovered in the space between, caught between defending Powder's brilliance and trying to keep her from burning the whole lab to the ground. She could see the cracks in him growing wider every day—the frustration in his voice when Jayce dismissed her ideas, the way his fingers trembled when he adjusted his cane. They weren't friends. They weren't even allies, really. They were three people locked in the same room, pulling in opposite directions but somehow still moving forward. That was what kept them together: the work. Viktor had pushed for progress, for the expansion of Hextech into everyday tasks, but Heimerdinger and Jayce had dropped their support for that, seeing what Powder had seen when humans like her tampered with things beyond their comprehension. So he had sought her help, her feedback, and in return, discovered something else - a new possibility. A new solution. Sans magic. Sans hope for his recovery. But Viktor was astute as he was determined, he recognized a losing battle and would wait his turn. For now, Powder's promise for new revenues and ideas would be the priority.
If only she could churn out more work though. Powder had relied on the memory of her friends, of their tireless hours burning the midnight oil and subsequently, its eternal counterpart. She had witnessed them create salvation for a nation that had been ignored, pushed over. But now her memories ran thin, her recall failing her like a vindictive clown. But progress was progress. For as many quips and rebuttals Jayce traded with her, he was smart. He was intelligent. She didn't hide her scorn for him, but the man was able to push her towards directions she hadn't - wouldn't - ever consider.
Then one day - she finally struck gold. Powder hadn't meant to stumble on the solution. It had started as a distraction, an experiment to keep her hands busy while Jayce and Viktor argued over the latest design for the power regulator. She'd been tinkering with a half-dismantled gas canister, running currents through its remaining fumes with an AC generator she pilfered from Viktor's table, when the realization hit her.
Charged electrons. A potential energy source that wouldn't rely on unstable Hextech crystals or Piltover's crumbling grid. She could feel it—tiny sparks crackling through her veins as the pieces clicked into place. It wasn't magic. It wasn't Piltover's sanitized, dwindling, electricity. It was something new, something she had carved out of the chaos that she had sought to eradicate.
"Jayce!" she called, her voice loud enough to cut through the din of the lab. He didn't look up from his workbench, his jaw tight with concentration. Viktor, however, turned, his gaze wary but curious.
"What is it now?" Jayce finally snapped, irritation coloring his voice as Viktor's distraction equated to missing his cue for a timed experiment. "If this is another one of your 'ideas'—"
"Shut up and look," she shot back, shoving the canister toward him. "This isn't just an idea. It's a solution."
Jayce frowned but reached for the device, his fingers brushing against the faint hum of energy radiating from its surface. His eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from annoyance to cautious interest as he studied the faint blue glow inside.
"It's using the gas fumes," Powder explained, her words tumbling out in a rush. "The charged electrons—they're unstable alone but also unstable enough to generate power without needing a crystal or a direct current. I ran it through the AC converter twice, and it held both times."
Viktor leaned forward, his gaze lighting up with the spark of understanding. "This could work," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "If we could refine it, scale it—"
"Or it could blow up in our faces," Jayce interrupted, his voice cold. He set the canister down carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's volatile. One misstep, and this whole lab goes up in flames. You think Piltover would approve of that?"
"I don't care what Piltover approves of," Powder shot back, her fists clenching at her sides. "This works. And it's better than anything your 'science' has come up with so far."
The tension in the room was palpable, a storm waiting to break. But before anyone could speak again, the door to the lab slammed open, a junior researcher bursting in, her face pale and frantic. As an afterthought, Powder recognized the dark curls and frame to be intrinsic to the female researcher with the heart-eyed eyes for Viktor. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), the man was both impervious to and ignorant of her feelings.
"Silco's men,"s he gasped, clutching the door frame for support. "They've breached the lower district. Armed to the teeth. The Enforcers are trying to hold them back, but—"
The words hung in the air like a detonated charge, the implications reverberating through the room. Powder's stomach twisted, her thoughts racing. If Silco's men were bold enough to move into Piltover itself, it meant one thing: she was in danger. And there was no way out of it now. What little connections she had back in Zaun, would no longer provide aid in her attempt to hide again; Silco's brash move was both a threat and attack.
"Guess your clean little city isn't so perfect after all," she muttered, her voice bitter as she turned back to the canister. Jayce opened his mouth to retort, but both Viktor's hand and Powder's cutting glare contemptuously silenced him. "There is no way they should have gotten into these walls without a rat," Powder elaborated.
"There is no rat, not in the Academy - we're not some petty, coin-hungry -"
"Jayce." Viktor's cutting voice stopped the man from pursuing his line of thought any further.
Powder grinned, earning his scrutiny. Even though Viktor treaded the line between Topsider and Undercity vermin often, he was clear on his loyalties regardless of the situation.
"The guards will hold," Jayce settled, biting back his words. "Caitlyn is stationed here today, she wouldn't allow anything otherwise." His overconfidence overturned any opportunity for fear or doubt. Powder carefully watched as the woman - Sky? - she couldn't recall her name, nodded her head and hesitantly left them be again. She glanced over at Viktor, but her fellow Zaunite was already consumed with their newest discovery again. Jayce threw her a challenging stare; there were no such things as distractions in the Academy it seemed.
They had work to do.
The news of Silco's men moving into Piltover spread like wildfire. While Jayce kept his faith in Piltover's security, the furtive dash of feet and distant sounds of altercation were enough to drive Powder into a solemn corner, awaiting for her inevitable capture and arrest. Yet the news came that Silco's men had retreated - the Enforcers had prevailed. But it brought no relief. It wasn't a retreat, not really. It was a warning, a calculated reminder of how easily he could breach the gilded walls of Piltover whenever he wanted. The message had been delivered and it was clear: I'm watching.
With this silent promise, Powder felt a shift in the air, a crackling tension that made every step feel heavier, every shadow a potential threat. For hours, she had paced the lab, her hands twitching with restless energy, while Jayce and Viktor argued about their next steps. The usual friction between them was amplified, but Powder stayed quiet, her mind churning with calculations and memories of Silco's cold gaze.
"You're quiet," Viktor said softly, his voice drawing her back to the present. Jayce had long ago abandoned the pretense of civility and vacated the premises before his anger got the best of him. His cane tapped lightly against the floor as he walked closer, his sharp eyes studying her. "That's not like you."
"I've got nothing to say," she muttered, turning back to her workbench. The canister lay in front of her, glowing faintly with the promise of something new. Something better. She wasn't about to let Silco's games distract her. Not now. Not ever.
The gentle clashing of her tools filled the silence as she tuned out the world, her focus narrowing until it was just her and the glowing potential in front of her. Despite her singular focus and noise, the room felt insulated, even with Jayce and Viktor murmuring somewhere behind her.
Then, like a ripple in still water, the energy shifted. Powder stiffened before she even registered the sound of heels clicking against the cold floor. The air grew taut, crackling with authority, and she knew without looking. Jayce's sharp intake of breath and Viktor's barely audible sigh confirmed it.
Mel Medarda had arrived.
She was as infamous as she was beautiful. When she had arrived in the lab, Powder was deep into recalibrating the circuitry of her creation before her presence, commanding and sharp as a blade, pulled her attention immediately.
"What exactly is going on here?" Mel's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, one that made Powder's shoulders tense instinctively. "Jayce, Viktor, I thought I'd find you working on something to justify the council's investment. Instead, I find you collaborating with... her."
Powder turned slowly, meeting Mel's gaze with a defiant smirk; doubtlessly, it was more of a grimace - Silco's threat had stolen any semblance of confidence from her.. "Nice to see you too."
Mel's eyes narrowed, her golden earrings glinting in the lab's artificial light. "You're a criminal, a fugitive. Harboring you here puts this entire operation at risk. Do you have any idea how this looks?" She was speaking about Powder, but had yet to directly address her. And she thought Jayce had made her feel small.
"She has a point," said man muttered, earning a cutting glare from Viktor.
"She also has no idea what she's talking about," Powder shot back, stepping forward and reclaiming the attention. The woman exuded elegance and sophistication - her execution too, if Powder didn't act quickly to obtain her right to be seen as a person. "I'm the only one in this room who's made any real progress in the last week. That thing," she pointed to the glowing canister on the bench, "is going to change everything. But you're too busy worrying about appearances to notice."
Mel arched her brow, unimpressed. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to be?"
"An alternative power source," Viktor supplied, before she could snap again. His voice was steady, though his grip on his cane betrayed his nerves. "It's not reliant on Hextech or traditional electricity. Powder discovered a way to harness charged electrons from chaotic gas fumes—it's efficient and potentially revolutionary."
Mel's gaze flicked between them, her expression unreadable. "Revolutionary, or dangerous? What happens when this 'alternative power source' explodes and takes half the district with it?"
"It won't," Powder said, crossing her arms. "And even if it did, I'd take out a lot less than Hextech would if it failed. Your city is sitting on a pile of unstable crystals. My invention? It's cleaner. Safer. And it doesn't rely on magic."
For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Powder's words hanging in the air. Mel stepped closer to the bench, examining the canister with a critical eye; it didn't pass her attention that Jayce had maneuvered to intercede her, but had held himself back. "And what do you want in return for this miracle?" she asked, her voice low.
Powder hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of the bench. She could feel Viktor and Jayce watching her, waiting to see what would say. "I want a deal," she said finally, meeting Mel's gaze. "I help you make this work, and you keep the Enforcers off my back. No raids, no arrests. I get to work without looking over my shoulder."
Mel tilted her head, considering. "You think you're in a position to negotiate?" She had offered to broker a deal - Powder bit her tongue.
"I think you're under a lot of pressure to deliver something new," she countered instead. She had witnessed Silco do this dance many times before. For a man that claimed authority over all, he still had to be selective of the tune he played for others. Mel was just another figurehead doing the same. "Your council wants results. Your investors want profits. And the clock's ticking. This is your chance to give them what they want—and then some."
Mel's lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Bold. I'll give you that." She turned to Jayce and Viktor. "And what do you think? Are you willing to stake your reputations on…her?"
Jayce hesitated, his jaw tightening. But Viktor stepped forward, his cane tapping against the floor. "She's reckless," he said honestly, his tone firm. "But she's also brilliant. If anyone can make this work, it's her."
Mel regarded them for a long moment, her face a careful, worn mask. Slowly, she began to pace, the click of her heels echoing in the lab. "You're asking me to take a risk. A significant one. Associating with her could undermine the council's confidence—not to mention our investors'. Piltover thrives on stability and control, not... whatever this is." Her gaze flicked toward Powder, sharp as a dagger.
Powder bristled, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab something—anything—to throw. But she bit back the retort simmering on her tongue, forcing herself to meet Mel's gaze.
"But," Mel continued, stopping in front of the glowing canister, "innovation requires risk. And I have already done that with you, two -" the said scientists shrink under her unsaid implications. "-you're right—the council is restless. They want progress, no matter the cost. If this…contraption delivers even half of what you claim, it could solidify Piltover's dominance and trades for decades. I'll support this, conditionally."
"And the conditions?" Viktor asked, his voice wary.
Mel's lips curled into a small, calculating smile. "You have one week to refine it. No accidents, no disasters. I'll present it to the council myself. But if they reject it, or if it so much as cracks under scrutiny, you'll take the fall. All of you," she looked each of them carefully in the eye. Yet the farce was laughable. Powder knew where her pistol was pointed. "Especially you," Mel confirmed, nodding her head at Powder. "I didn't intend on making rounds at the lab until the recent strike from Zaun this morning."
Her eyes lingered on Powder as she spoke, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. Powder swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily on her shoulders. She was the smoking gun, a risk waiting to implode. Powder's hand instinctively twitched toward the workbench as if the weight of her tools could anchor her. But there would be no hiding. Not from this.
The lab fell silent after Mel's exit, the unspoken pressure she left behind filling the room. Powder didn't need to see Jayce and Viktor's strained faces to know the stakes. Her fingers brushed the edge of the glowing canister as if the metal could reassure her, though it offered no comfort.
One week.
The words pulsed through her thoughts like a clock ticking down. She closed her eyes for a moment, her jaw tightening as she fought to steady her breathing. When they opened, there was only the work. The tools. The calculations. Jayce's caustic comments no longer existed, and the threadbare relationship between her and Viktor had evaporated.
Hours blurred into days, and days into - well, a week. When the summons came, it was as inevitable as the tide.
The assembly hall was a world away from the cramped chaos of the lab. The stark brilliance of polished marble, gilded railings, and towering glass windows bore down on Powder like an accusation. Piltover's elite filled the room, their dagger-like whispers and scrutinizing glances cutting through the air as effectively as any blade or bullet would.
Powder lingered at the back of the room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Every muscle in her body felt coiled, as though preparing for a blow that hadn't yet landed. As per Mel's instructions, the woman would be the one to deliver the product to the crowd, Jayce the representative of their - her - work, and Viktor, a bystander meant to keep her in the sidelines. A hood was carefully drafted over her head with a passable decorative mask covering the lower half of her face to hide her identity from the others. Viktor's own jittery glances and hands betrayed his comfort with their imposing audience.
At the front, Mel Medarda stood poised on the stage, commanding the space as effortlessly as she had at the lab. Her voice was clear and deliberate, polished steel from years of scrutiny.
"This prototype," Mel began, gesturing toward the improved canister now resting on an ornate pedestal, "represents a breakthrough in our understanding of energy. A power source that is stable, sustainable, and entirely independent of Hextech."
Powder's heart pounded in her chest as Mel's voice echoed through the chamber, smooth and commanding. Beside her, Viktor jitteriness had stilled and his facade was as inscrutable as the woman with the golden hands. Powder ignored him and focused on the audience's reception.
The council members, specifically, murmured in their exclusive congregations, expressions ranging from intrigued to skeptical as Mel continued weaving a concise narrative of how this invention was a necessary leap forward for Piltover's prosperity.
But then the questions began.
"Who developed this?" one councilor demanded, his sharp tone cutting through the room. "This doesn't align with the research conducted by our Hextech division. Nor by the promises of Talis."
Mel hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before she recovered; the crack was fleeting, but it was enough. "It was a collaborative effort, spearheaded by Viktor and Jayce, with significant input from—"
"Her." Another councilor suddenly pointed directly at Powder, his expression a mix of disdain and suspicion; her hood was abruptly puled back by a passing guard, unveiling her trademark, bright blue hair. "The fugitive, Jinx, a known associate of Zaun's most dangerous criminal, Silco - the man who had invaded our walls not too recently. Do you expect us to place our trust in her? Did you expect that you could hide her identity for so long from us?" he continued, earning a collective hiss of nods from fellow attendants. "When did we stoop so low, as to take counsel from the likes of them, and provide them safe refuge for the price of more violence at our doorsteps?"
The room erupted into heated whispers, accusations flying faster than Powder could process as soon as these words left his mouth. Powder felt her chest tighten, the walls closing in around her as the weight of their scrutiny bore down on her. Her wide eyes looked towards Mel, but for once, the golden princess seemed at a loss of words, her head bent towards the side, seeking Jayce's counsel .
"She's unstable," another councilor added. "Her involvement taints the legitimacy of this project - and we were promised advancement - Hextech! Not poisonous gases powering our homes."
Mel raised her hands, attempting to regain control of the room. "This isn't about her past. It's about what she's achieved. If we let prejudice cloud our judgment, we risk losing an opportunity to—"
"An opportunity to align ourselves with chaos?" The words were like a slap, and Powder flinched, her vision blurring. She felt like she was drowning, the noise of the assembly overwhelming her, but she remained firm, rooted in her spot as she absorbed the backlash associated with her upbringing, her identity. Beside her, Viktor remained stoic, promising no support or reprimand for letting herself be so easily swayed by words.
She felt like a misplaced pawn on a chessboard she didn't belong to, her scrappy ingenuity clashing against the cold precision of Piltover's elite. She gripped the edge of her belt, the smooth metal comforting and unyielding under her trembling fingers.
This wasn't her world.
The equations and schematics inside her brain suddenly felt inadequate, their lines blurring as doubt crept in. What was she doing here, standing before people who would never see her as anything but the volatile, destructive Jinx? No amount of innovation or effort could scrub away the stain of her past. No amount of good intentions was going to eradicate her reputation.
The council members' continued whispers of judgment felt like needles pricking her skin. Criminal. Fugitive. Dangerous. They didn't even need to say the words aloud; their sharp glares and skeptical murmurs screamed them louder than voices ever could.
Her mouth floundered, open and close as she tried to defend herself and ignore Viktor's caution to remain quiet. Her innovation would be revolutionary - was revolutionary. Ekko had come into her world seeking a way back home, but in his fitful slumber, his hungry strides, and relentless drive - she had glimpsed enough of what their beloved Hextech would take. Had taken. She was giving them a way out of that future. But still. What had she been thinking? That she could stand here and prove herself to these people? That she could steal her alternate timeline's identity and show others that her broken hands could create instead of destroy?
The old doubts clawed their way back into her mind. She wasn't a scientist like Viktor. She wasn't charismatic like Jayce. And she wasn't fearless like Jinx. She was just Powder—a girl who shattered things more often than she fixed them. It was why Ekko, Mylo, and Claggor had excelled, why she had remained satiated by the position behind the bar.
Vander had been wrong.
Powder's thoughts spiraled further even as the smoke began to fill the room. At first, she didn't process the hissing noise, the sudden shift from controlled clamor towards panicked exclamation, her mind too clouded with self-doubt and regrets. She was ignorant, and lost and - boom!
An explosion occurred, scattering sparks and flames across the chamber, sending plumes of bright pink and cotton candy blue to trail across in their wake. They were ridiculing her. All of them.
Chaos erupted, and she could barely hear herself think over the cacophony of shouting and panic. But one thought pierced through the noise like a dagger: This is my fault.
"No! This wasn't me!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she tried to fight against the tide of blame. But her protests were swallowed by the uproar, her cries dismissed as the frantic crowd surged around her. Her eyes, wild as they were, sought for her invention but it lay discarded on the stage floor - forgotten. Alone.
Powder stumbled back, her heart pounding, as the accusations mounted. Criminal. Saboteur. Jinx. The words echoed in her mind, a storm of shame and failure. This was all her fault.
Mel's voice cut through the noise, firm and commanding. "Get her out of here before this escalates further."
Powder didn't wait for the guards to reach her with their confining shackles. She ran, her legs carrying her blindly through the smoke-filled chamber, following the crowd of grieving and angry council members and scientists through the winding halls of the Academy and out into the streets of Piltover.
Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she pressed herself against a cold stone wall of an alley, her knees buckling beneath her. She didn't belong here. Not in the Academy. Not in this timeline. She wasn't someone great. She was just Powder. A victim. A survivor. A helper. Not a savior. Not an inventor and -
"Powder!"
She looked up, startled, to see Viktor limping toward her. Tears streamed down her cheeks in fat, angry droplets, but relief still flickered in her chest for a moment, despite his grim expression.
"I didn't do it," she said, her voice trembling. "I swear, Viktor, that wasn't me—"
"I know," he interrupted, his tone soft but edged with weariness. "But it doesn't matter. To them, you'll always be Jinx. And after this…" He sighed heavily, leaning on his cane. The noise behind them continued. The screams had dwindled, but Enforcers were marching out now. Looking, demanding for her. "It's better if you lie low for a while."
Her stomach twisted. "So, that's it?" she asked, her voice raw. "You're giving up on me too?"
He hesitated, the conflict clear in his eyes. "I'm not giving up on you," he said finally. He was. She wanted to rip the cane out of his hand and push him over. He was a liar like everyone else. "But I can't keep fighting this battle for you. I don't have time, Powder. Not for this."
Powder flinched at his words then, a fresh wave of inadequacy washing over her. "You mean magic," she spat bitterly, naming the wall that forever separated them. "You think your fancy runes are gonna solve everything."
Viktor didn't respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. Their shoes were splattered in her iconic colors; Powder wanted to puke. "Maybe magic is the only chance I have left." Her gut was wrenched. This was it.
Her heart sank. She looked at him, at the man who had once been her ally, and saw only distance. The world had turned its back on her, and now so had he.
She stepped away, her fists clenched at her sides. "Fine," she muttered, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. "Go ahead. Play with your magic. But don't come lookin' for me when it all falls apart."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and fled, disappearing into the labyrinthine streets of Zaun. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of shame, failure, and loneliness pressing down on her.
As she ran, a bitter thought clawed its way to the surface: Maybe they're right. Maybe I'll always be Jinx.