While it was a uniform of sorts, it wasn't the Enforcer blues that she had loathed putting on that one time. She swore never again and she meant it. Reds and golds adorned her jacket, the whole get-up much more akin to an upgrade of the outfit she wore after Caitlyn sprung her from prison. She still got the occasional look from Zaunites who didn't like the fancier nature of her clothes, and who thought she abandoned them for a cushy life, but it was expected. She had planned to meet up with Ekko when a shock of electric blue caught her attention. No, that can't be right. Her steps hurried through the streets, trying to keep up with the streak of blue as it ducked into some alleyway, one of the ones where the ducts empty into.

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 🗡️ 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧’ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫! 🗡️ Hehe sent by: @blubombs

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐧. 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠.

Once upon a time, he had found himself chuckling at the sight of a tin barrel, trying his best to assume a worried expression while the little girl he had taken in excitedly played pretend. And naturally, he indulged her. Taught her how to hold the toy properly, what to expect if a real weapon was fired.

“You wouldn’t want your nose to catch the blow-back of one of those,” he had warned, long before she was even thinking about working jobs for him. Some said he had raised her as a weapon, a mere tool to serve his plans. Silco had never bothered to correct them. In the end, no one understood them as they understood each other, and to him, that was all that mattered.

For sometimes, he didn’t even understand himself.

Jinx was more than just a wayward child found next to Vander’s lifeless body. She was a reminder of all the things that once had been good in this downtrodden, lousy world of theirs. He had made a promise, before she was born, to bring their dreams of a free Zaun to fruition, so she and her sister would not have to live the life they did now. Protecting Jinx, giving her a home, nurturing her had been his desperate attempt at clinging to his promise.

And in the same vein, if he was being honest with himself, he saw his old self in her. The same mind, the same visions, the same persistence. Misunderstood and pushed aside, blamed and left behind. 

When she pointed the toy gun at him, he had raised his hands, played along, made her laugh.

Now his hands were tied, the rope pressing hard into his flesh, even through the clothes. He could feel how it impacted the circulation, how the tips of his fingers felt cold and numb already. And instead of one barrel, he now stared at multiple of them.

Time had slowed, crawled to a stand-still, pleading words to make her see reason falling on deaf ears while her sister barked away, trying to drown his voice out. It was then when she raised the weapon when Silco realized he had lost her, could no longer reach her. Something had shifted between them and he had disguised the truth from her one too many times, attempting to protect her, wanting to keep her for himself, the misguided need of a father to shield his daughter.

Just when he had decided to give up his dream, unable to sacrifice her for it, he had lost her trust.

Still, in another moment passing by like a day, he thought he saw a glimpse, a shimmer of hope to get through to her, but in the end, the big bang, the oncoming darkness of the black hole had been inevitable.

Shots registered belatedly, shock flooding his system with adrenaline, a constant, shrill ringing in his ears drowning out the surrounding noises of people speaking, shouting over each other. Silco had endured injuries before, was used to the constant discomfort of his bad eye and the shots he had to take, and maybe therefore the wounds in his body, bullets ripping through his flesh were not as bad as he would have assumed.

Life trickled away from him, the world started to become dark on the edges, the fringes of his self slowly unraveling as Jinx kneeled before him, tears streaming down her face. His last chance. 

If his plan was never to become reality, maybe he himself had become obsolete in this part of the story as well. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. He only hoped she was ready for the responsibility of walking these streets without his protection. He prayed he did good in raising her.

The darkness started slowly blurring her face from his vision, cracked lips parting, a smile, one last important sentence he had to tell her.

“Don’t cry… you’re perfect…”

                             everyone   had   a   story.   some   just   had   a   story   that   was   far   deeper   than   others.           it   was   what   he   understood   of   her   as   paled   amber   shades   track   over   to   the   girl.   hes   quiet   for   a   moment,   letting   her   statement   settle   in   the   air.   it   wasnt   as   if   Viktor   didnt   believe   her,   even   with   such   a   hefty   track   record   that   clung   to   her   very   being.   fingers   flex   around   the   body   of   his   staff,   Viktors   seated   position   angled   just   a   bit   away   from   her   even   with   features   turned   her   way.   and   he   leans   on   it,   head   against   the   middle   and   the   corner   of   lips   seemingly   twitch.   its   small,   but   the   smile   is   there.

                    ❛   you   make   a   habit   of   not   being   good,   which   is   why   you   feel   the   need   to   promise.   ❜           he   states   rather   plainly.           ❛   i   trust   that   you   would   not   make   a   problem   here.   these   people   have   had   their   fair   share   of   issues   already.   ❜           Viktor   could   quip   at   her,   as   he   is   fairly   certain   such   a   calmed   atmospheric   bubble   would   not   last   with   that   mouth   of   hers.   unless,   he   thinks,   her   leaf   had   turned.

meme: || ASSORTED SONG LYRIC SENTENCE STARTERS . | accepting [🤛]

|| @blubombs

It feels like a punch in the guts. Every time Jinx says something like that it just sends her back to that fateful night. The night she slapped her and echoed Mylo's words. The same words she had scolded him for not even a few days prior. It wasn't her intention to make her feel that way, never in a million years. That was her sister. It's just that grief and everything swirled around in the pit of her stomach, she just watched their father die, again, and because Jinx hadn't listened when she told her to stay behind. Vi felt like she was going to vomit then and she felt a similar nausea now.

"No, no, you're not. You're—" That was going to haunt her forever, wasn't it? They should have just fled together. Then Jinx would still be Powder and not addicted to that crap and Vi wouldn't have endured those seven years in prison. But, she also wouldn't have met Caitlyn. It didn't matter, did it? There was no way to change the past, there never would be.

@blubombs said: ❛ we both know you have a mask kink. ❜ to ekko Things Said on Discord || Accepting

"And what does that say about you and guns?" Two could play that game. Ekko scoffed, a shake of his head and grin on his face while he tweaked a few details on his board. "I'm not the one." It felt … nice getting to banter like this again. It felt like it's been far too long standing edge to edge pretending to be strangers and now that the ice between them had started to melt, he was able to recognize her again as someone that he used to know but would love to get to know again. As if the ice melting between them was all that was necessary for them to pick up where they likely left off, tossing one-liners at one another that only they knew what to do with.

@blubombs ♡'d for a starter !

The air in Zaun is thicker than usual, each breath a weight in his lungs as he slips quietly through the half-empty streets. Enforcers seem to be on every corner, holding down what little power they still hold in these streets.

Suffocating as the air may be its charged with the promise of change.

Nature abhors a vacuum, after all. And the recent chem baron deaths left gaping chasms all were surging to fill.

Viktor is not here to capitalize on this. No, he's far from the running for that position, half-dead and without any real power to his name here. A lifetime in Piltover means he carries its stink, and his hands had helped craft the weaponry the Enforcers now old. However against his will this may have been, he had been warned of the risk of what would be done if this technology were placed in the wrong hands and then naively handed it over with a smile.

( What a fool I was. )

No. He's here for shimmer and Singed, and maybe together they could do... something to repent for his role in all of this. Even if Singed's goals did not align with his own, Viktor's research in his hands could still do more than it had done when held jointly with Jayce.

He could try to repair some of the damage he'd done in the time he had left. Even if his efforts to save himself failed, it was better to do too little too late than nothing at all.

A hand lifts to muffle the cough trying to force its way out, leaning against the alleyway wall. The enforcer patrol passes without even a glance, engrossed in their own conversation. Quickly as he can he darts from the alleyway, pavement turning to stone under his feet as he heads for those familiar caves.

He doesn't get far.

A fluxuation in power means suspicion and scrapping over territories. A strange face may well be an enemy, and Viktor supposes it's a small mercy he never much cared for the lime-light. If he had, they wouldn't be grabbing him by a scrawny arm - they'd be pressing a bullet into his temple as thanks for all he'd done.

Maybe they would have anyway, as a warning to all outsiders. Yet the hand attached to the scrawny arm is made of metal, so finely crafted it catches them offguard as it glints in the light.

"Who made this?"

"I did. Let me go, I want no trouble, I am just trying to see a friend."

But it does not matter what he wants.

The grip on his arm does not relent, and Viktor laments not equipping something better suited for battle. These new parts - recently replaced, still aching where they attached - were meant to to replace the ones he'd lost in the accident. Not enhance them. Just as the box of mechanical organs under his arm was meant to repair what was killing him with every wasted, heavy breath - if only he could get access to enough shimmer to make them take.