#character developement

This world is wrong.

That has always been the thesis that you have constantly repeated in your head.

It was not a realization from a specific event, not a last thought of a lost battle, not a panic reaction or melodramatic phrase. It was simply always there.

Whether in quiet moments, during your travels, on the top of a mountain while looking at the valley below, during training with a new mentor, while focusing aura and magic, in fights, defeats or even in victories - this sentence was always present.

This world is wrong.

On the one hand, people are starving on the streets, in run-down alleyways and cellars, while on the other, children sit in gold-decorated chairs, throw away their food and have never had to lift a finger.

War and peace rotate in an endless cycle, governments and systems break, and yet everyone just watches. They say it's just the way of the world. That is progress. Order. But you've known better for a long time:

It's not the people who are wrong. It's the world. The world is wrong.

Back then, with your "real" family, it was most obvious. Your siblings, the kids in the neighborhood, your parents - they weren't intentionally cruel, but that didn't make it any better.

Their world was small, stuck, rotten, and they were proud of it. You could have tried to fit in. But what was the point? You weren't wrong. The world was wrong.

"Well, that only leaves the fun option." Jinx's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you had almost forgotten what was happening.

You blink, look ahead. You're in one of the darker districts of Piltover, the streets narrower, the lamps further apart, the fog thicker. The perfect place for an attack - or an ambush.

Your destination is clear: prison. Isha. Restoration. Perhaps even revenge. But before you can storm the prison, you have to reach it.

And so you sneak through the shadows like three half-mad criminals, each with their own broken background story: Sevika, Jinx and you.

You stop at a crossroads, directly in front of you, just a few meters away, stands a single enforcer in heavy uniform. Not an amateur, but not a veteran either.

"Should we let them catch us?" whispers Jinx, with a grin you know very well.

"Are you crazy?! They're going to arrest us, how are you going to break out and get the others out too?" Sevika hisses, quietly, but with enough anger that you could almost hear her across the street.

Jinx just shrugs her shoulders and pushes past her - typical. She doesn't ask questions to get answers. She asks questions to spread chaos.

You don't need a plan. It was clear to you long ago. And for Jinx too, apparently, because before you can say anything, she's already turned the corner, running straight towards the enforcer and raising her hands theatrically above her head.

"Ha! It's me..." she calls into the silence, in an exaggerated voice, like an actress on a stale stage. "Your vile villainess. The author of your nightmares. The, uh, dread of your-"

"Who are you?" the enforcer interrupts dryly.

There is silence for a moment, as if the scene before you has frozen. You and Sevika look at each other, both with that look of utter irritation on your faces, before your eyes wander back to the unforgettable silhouette of Jinx standing in the middle of the street in her usual exaggerated pose.

"Mm, Jinx?" she asks as she presents herself with both hands as if she were auditioning for a play.

"Yeah, never heard that before." The enforcer barely bats an eyelid, his voice bored, almost annoyed.

Jinx, on the other hand, slowly raises an eyebrow, incredulous, as if she had just received an insult.

"Does she think it's a joke?" hisses Sevika next to you.

"No idea... apparently." You keep your eyes on the scene, your voice quiet, analytical as ever. "There must have been a lot of people disguising themselves as Jinx during the riots. Rebellion by imitation. No wonder she's suspicious."

"Do you think we should go in between?" asks Sevika with a sudden seriousness in her voice.

You don't answer immediately. Your eyes remain fixed on the scene, watchful, while your right hand slowly slips into your coat pocket. Your fingers are already clutching one of the steel balls.

"You're not gonna haul me in? Claim the prize? Be the big hero?" Jinx's voice is almost amused now, she continues to play the part, although you can sense that she is beginning to lose patience.

And then it hits you. Not what was said. It's what it reminds you of. Lock you up. Lock away. The mission. Isha.

You feel the grip on your steel ball tighten. No mere aura of reflex - this time you concentrate. Light, targeted magic settles over the metal and stabilizes the rotation.

You can still hear Jinx say something back, but the words blur.

"You look like a half-eaten circus ten-"

He doesn't manage to finish the set. Not with the impact of your steel ball on the back of his neck. A clean, spinning impact - almost invisible if you don't look closely - and yet devastating.

The enforcer topples forward, his body loses its balance and hits the pavement with a thud. Motionless.

"Ugh! I am Jinx," Jinx calls out, glancing over her shoulder as if she finally feels vindicated.

Your steel ball cuts back through the air, a clean line. You catch it effortlessly, letting it disappear into your coat pocket as if nothing had happened.

"About time..." Sevika mutters, before striding past you with a weary sigh.                                                                                                    --- 

With Jinx fully dressed in the Enforcer uniform, you are now sitting in one of these cool, metallic transport wagons that will take you straight to prison.

The room is cold, vibrates slightly from the rattling of the wheels on the rails and, in its monotony, looks like a coffin on wheels. Everything in gray, everything in silence.

Jinx leans casually against the cold wall of the carriage, her uniform a little too big, her belt slightly askew, as if she wants to express her chaos even in this role. She pulls Sevika - bound and with a lowered gaze - down onto the bench with a jerk, where she sits down with her arms folded in obvious displeasure.

You yourself stand next to it, perfectly still, your hood pulled low over your face, parts of another Enforcer uniform pulled over your coat and modified with magic.

The fabrics are overlaid with small, almost invisible illusion fields that would deceive even experienced eyes.

Your hands rest deep in your coat pockets, thumbs wrapped around the steel balls, ready to strike at the slightest irregularity. Every muscle in your body is prepared, even if your gaze seems half tired, half absent.

An enforcer at the front of the wagon leans slightly to one side, trying to peer through the milky field of vision in Jinx's helmet mask. He seems to know the person who is usually under this uniform. Maybe a colleague, maybe more, but he's looking at her as if he wants to convey some kind of silent message.

But Jinx is Jinx.

She pulls her arm up wordlessly, sticks out her middle finger, slowly, provocatively. The enforcer flinches, averts his eyes, says nothing more - but his silence screams.

A low rumble echoes through the steel walls, rhythmic and distant. The train picks up speed.

For a brief moment, between the noises and the metallic swinging of the clutches, your gaze glides across the room, past the staring backs of the other passengers and into your thoughts.

You think about the world out there. Of the borders you have crossed. The lands you have visited, the mountains you have crossed, the deserts you have survived. The kingdoms with their own forms of magic, their own laws. And then you think of Powder - of Jinx - who has never seen any of this.

Sitting here as if she'd seen it all, even though she'd hardly ever gotten out of the labyrinth of smoke, misery and madness called the fence.

But as your gaze lingers on Sevika, her shoulders heavy, her head slightly lowered, her face as rigid as stone, images rise up in your mind. Memories. Of Silco. Of Vander. Of Singed. Of Vi. And Isha again. Isha again and again.

And you remember what really counts. What has always mattered.

The most important thing is right in front of you. In prison. Behind walls, between cells, perhaps shackled, perhaps alone. Isha. Your Isha. And no one - no enforcer, no uniform, no system - will take her away from you. Not this time.

--- 

"Whoa! Big mama, how'd you take her in?" The man in front of you - a muscle-bound closet who probably believes that authority grows in proportion to the size of his biceps - and although he grins arrogantly, inside he's probably only half as sure as he pretends to be.

The "boss" of Stillwater, even if you realized from his first gesture that he's nothing more than a pompous bouncer with too much brawn instead of brains and too little knowledge.

As always, you stay in the background, standing slightly to the side, a little too far to the right, in the shadow of the wall - the perfect angle to take the air out of any room with a well-aimed blow, if necessary.

The aura inside you is calm but tense, like a taut string waiting for its impulse. Your gaze rests on the man, but your face remains hidden deep under your hood.

Jinx, completely in character, clears her throat theatrically and then answers dryly: "I gave her a choice between this or a swim in the harbor."

She grabs Sevika by the shoulder and demonstratively pulls her towards her, while Sevika plays along with a half-lowered gaze and feigned resignation - a spectacle that even a blind person would notice, but in this world even blind people are often too comfortable to look.

"Hm, and who are you?" he then asks, and for a moment a slight twitch creeps through your spine, not from surprise, but because you momentarily forget that you were even recognized as someone.

You lower your head a little more so that the glow of your aura doesn't seep through the thin fabric and answer calmly, almost mechanically: "A messenger from the Council."

"A messenger...?" he repeats, his voice thick as old honey. "Didn't know they needed one of those."

You don't answer at first. Then you raise your head minimally, just enough to give him the feeling of being seen - while you are actually scanning the room.

Exit, enforcers, levers, weapons, potential reinforcements.

Everything is calculated. And when you finally speak again, you know exactly what you are saying, why you are saying it and what effect it will have.

"The Council recently set up a shadow department. Technically, we operate outside the military structures - they call it 'Discreet Coordination'. The aim is to transfer information and sensitive resources between enforcer stations and Council members without compromising public order. People like me move around inconspicuously, register internal security gaps, monitor the moral stability of the line forces and report structural anomalies to the Executive Committee. We are currently in phase three of the initiative, which means that my presence..." - you are now looking him full in the face - "...should not be questioned any further."

Silence.

The man stands there, his gaze blank, his brain busy sorting out your words. Not a hint of irony left on his face. Only confusion.

Perfect. What an idiot.

Sevika exhales audibly, while Jinx wears a slight grin under his helmet. You remain silent and continue to move, slowly, under control. Because you got exactly what you wanted: Access.

But just as you take the next step, it hits you like a shock:

Pure evil.

You don't freeze because you're weak. You don't forget to breathe because you'd be stupid. You hold your breath because your body realizes in milliseconds that what's coming towards you is dangerous.

Instinctively, you wrap your aura around yourself like a second skin, keeping it to a minimum and concealing anything that could betray you without disarming yourself. All of this happens before your rational thinking even sets in again. Experience. Survival instinct.

Your gaze flickers to the right, where one of the massive doors is just opening and several soldiers are marching out - but it's not them.

It's her.

The woman who moves in the center like a shadow, so calm in her movements that it almost borders on arrogance.

Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, but not clumsy - she carries her strength like a practiced hunter carries his blade. The aura that emanates from her is unnaturally calm, condensed, folded into itself like an animal that you only have to wake up to make it explode.

She is strong.

You minimally lower your gaze, play the silent supporting actor in a role that you have already played too often, while you analyze, save and weigh up every second.

Jinx next to you, completely herself, has long since placed her hand on one of her gadgets - an inconspicuous gesture for those who don't know it, but you can see it. She has felt it too.

And you know it now: this woman is a problem. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But she will turn up again. Because people like her always turn up.

You have encountered many things on your travels, and some of them were real monsters.

People who had such a huge amount of aura that practically no one could hurt them without magic tricks.

People who were so smart that they could plan and tactic a threat even with incredibly little aura.

People who were strategically as well as with their aura in perfect unity and a hit could be Lethal.

Her aura is neither that of a monster nor that of a tactician. She is... something else. Complete in itself. Complete. As if she didn't need magic to be deadly.

You know such creatures - not many, but enough to know that you should never underestimate them.

She glances at you for just a moment, maybe a split second too long, and although she pays you no discernible attention, there's this dull feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you she's noticed you. Not recognized. Not seen through. But sensed.

And while you move slightly, barely betraying in your posture or gaze how attentive you are, only a quiet statement is repeated in your head, as cold and clear as the first blow of a coming storm:

We'll meet again. And the next time - it might be in a fight.

"Cell Block C." The tall man just points with his chin and lets his gaze linger on you for a strangely long time, as if he's trying to categorize you.

You nod curtly, not taking your eyes off him as you walk on.

The air becomes heavier the deeper you go. The elevator jolts, a muffled whine from the shafts through which it transports you. No one says anything, not even Jinx, which is rare enough. Sevika leans against the wall and gives you the occasional sideways glance, but you ignore her.

You're still tense inside, not because of the task - you know you can do it - but because of what's about to happen. Isha.

As the doors open, you move quickly. Your footsteps echo across the cold stone floor and then, just before you reach the target section, you bump into two enforcers who are actually sitting opposite each other on the floor and have set up a makeshift chess game.

The game ends faster than they can react. Two precise, silent attacks, a kick, a well-aimed throw - they go down without a sound. You keep running.

You are deep enough. Deep enough that no light from above can get through, and the hum of the power lines vibrates softly in your skulls. Jinx rips off the Enforcer armor with a loud groan.

"Shit, this crap was squeezing me," she growls and throws the heavy thing on the floor. "Hey, really great, the way you fucked that guy over! You should have taken his look!" She laughs softly, her grin gleaming even in the gloom.

"Had to think of something quickly." Your voice remains calm, almost bored - but you notice for yourself how your pulse is still racing.

"Can you two focus?" Sevika sounds annoyed as always, but not out of principle - but because she knows how serious things can get down here.

"Of course, of course." Jinx waves it off, but you know she's ready.

Jinx takes a deep breath. You turn your head, scan the surroundings, feel the auras, all these imprisoned lives, marked by fear, by disappointment. It reeks of despair down here. And that's exactly why you're here.

You reach the control panel. Jinx immediately grabs it, you cover her while Sevika secures the end of the corridor. The large lever squeaks as she pulls it down. Then a loud metallic clatter - and all the doors spring open at the same time.

Chaos breaks out. Voices are raised, chains rattle, barred doors clang against walls. Jinx laughs. Of course she laughs.

"Here we are, your big fat heroes!" she calls out into the corridor, arms outstretched as if you were standing on a stage. You stand next to her, silent as ever, looking ahead.

The barred doors crash back, one after the other, metal on metal, echoing dully in the corridors - but no one speaks. No one cheers. No one screams. It is unnatural, absolute silence.

The first slowly emerge from their cells. Hesitantly. Suspiciously. A woman stops for a moment, puts a hand on your shoulder, then on Jinx's, as if to bless something - or to thank you without saying it.

Others follow, do the same, like a silent rite. Shoulder. Next. Shoulder. Further. Nobody says a word.

Jinx is already jumping off, running past the cells as if guided by an invisible instinct, her eyes wide, searching, almost panicked.

But you... you're walking in the other direction. Slowly. Purposefully. Your senses sharpened, focused on this one, faint spark of aura that shimmers at the edge of your perception like a light in the darkness. Barely perceptible - but there. Fragile. And yet unmistakable.

She follows you. Of course she does. She knows that you know where Isha is. And you'll find her.

All words disappear from your mind when you see her: small, trembling, alone in a cell that seems far too big for her body.

The coldness of this room breaks your heart in a single moment. You pull the door open faster than you can consciously act, fall to your knees and pull her close to you.

And she? She immediately reaches for you, clings to you as if she's afraid you'll disappear again, as if this is a dream that can be lost with the next breath.

You feel Jinx drop down beside you, her arms wrapping around you both, and for a tiny, barely existent moment, you all three embrace.

And for the first time, after all the blood, all the dirt, all the breaking... you're just there. No fight, no plan, no death - just warmth. Only support. Only life.

A tear runs down your face. You don't even notice them. And you are happy. Really, honestly, calmly - happy.

But the peace doesn't last long.

You feel it first. Before even a sound is heard: raw aura, direct and deadly, to an extent that cannot be human. It cuts through your perception.

The presence of enforcers, many, heavily armed, organized - but that's not what makes your heart stand still. It's something else. Something... wrong.

You let go of Isha, your fingers slowly detach from her back, and Jinx does the same. They both look at you, confused, almost frightened, but your gaze tells them everything. They know it. Even before you hear the first step.

You reach into your coat pocket. Your fingers wrap around the cool metal ball of your steel ball and you slowly begin to channel aura into it.

Then they hear it too. The sounds. First distant, then closer: heavy boots on steel, in perfect time, accompanied by a deep vibration in the walls. Enforcers. Many of them. They are approaching. Coordinated. Hard. Ice cold.

Your throat goes dry. You stare at the elevator door. Jinx puts her hand on one of her gadgets, Sevika doesn't move an inch, but her muscles are taut as a bow. Then - a bang.

Not the opening of the door. No. Something hits it. Hard. An impact that dents and deforms metal. A muffled crash that goes through your bones. Then something breaks. You hear it. Bones. The scream of a man - not like someone fighting. But like someone dying.

The elevator door warps, it bends apart with a screech, metal bends like paper, smoke, red and thick like blood, seeps through the cracks. It hisses, boils, lives. The air becomes heavy. You feel your own chest tighten. You feel Jinx grasp your hand. Firm. Hard. And then he's there.

Not a human being. Not a soldier. Not a magician. Not a criminal.

A monster.

Broadly built, grotesquely muscular, the entire body covered in knotty, matted fur that steams in places as if it were boiling from the inside out.

His shoulders jut out and claws hang from his arms, not hands - claws, long, black, scarred and sharp enough to cut through metal, bone and flesh.

Fresh blood still drips from them, presumably from the enforcers it tore apart before it even got down here. But that's not what holds your gaze.

It is what lies beneath this distorted mass of aura - something that seems familiar to you. A resonance, a feeling that you can't name, but that burns deep in your instinct, like déjà vu.

But now is not the time for questions. Not for thoughts. This thing has come to kill.

You focus. Your senses, sharpened by countless battles, analyze the constellation in milliseconds.

This being's aura is not a normal one - it is raw, uncontrolled, wild and unnaturally dense. You can't even fully quantify its intensity. It's like trying to estimate the weight of a mountain as it crashes down on you.

You see Jinx gritting her teeth, her eyes flickering, her hands shaking. Even she, who so often dances in the dark, starts to sweat just from the mere presence of this aura. And you know that if she can barely breathe, then the others don't stand a chance.

Jinx attacks first, instinctively, quickly, but completely ineffectively. Her projectiles bounce off the monster, not even a scratch remains on the thick fur, which only moves slightly with each hit, as if it is laughing at this ridiculous attempt.

"Great," she growls through her teeth, half ironic, half panicked, and you feel her fingers tighten slightly around Isha's hand, whose face is tear-stained, frozen in fear.

You think. You have to think. You have to analyze, faster than ever before. This monster's aura is not only powerful - it is active. As long as the aura that lies in your defense is greater than the one that lies in your attack, you do no damage.

And with the seemingly infinite raw aura this thing emits, you'll have to go all out to inflict damage with a direct attack.

You reach for your Steel Ball, feel the familiar engraving of the metal in your palm, slowly begin to channel aura into it, but your gaze remains on the monster.

It doesn't move yet, just stands there - and that makes it all the more dangerous. Its aura alone is enough to paralyze you all. And you begin to understand: One mistake, one wrong move, and this is where it all ends. This is where Isha ends. This is where Jinx ends. This is where you end.

Your gaze wanders briefly to Jinx, then to Isha. Her eyes are wide open, she's looking at you, seeking support, seeking protection - seeking an answer. And you know that you must be the answer.

You are the only one who can maybe, just maybe, make a difference here.

But even you are not sure if that is enough.

"Sevika!" - your voice cuts through the corridor like a sharp blade. "Get her out."

Sevika reacts immediately and runs off without question. She grabs Isha, literally lifts her up and sprints through the corridor at full speed.

The noise of fleeing footsteps echoes through the concrete skeleton, while the monster, rigid and menacing, does not take its eyes off you.

His attention is now entirely on you - and Jinx. You stand there. Your eyes never leave the beast.

Your fingers, still wrapped around the steel balls, begin to twitch slightly, as if they are already about to react on their own. You feel your aura trembling in the air, the tension about to burst.

Sevika, still running with Isha in her arms, takes one last look back over her shoulder, and maybe - just maybe - she sees something in your gaze that makes her understand that you're willing to sacrifice everything.

Perhaps she senses the heavy, dense, mercilessly pure aura that emanates from you.

"You two really are..."

"Big fat heroes." Jinx finishes the sentence with a grin, as only she can. Sarcasm, madness and pride in one breath.

No more time for words. No last gesture. No heroic scene. Just the truth: the fight begins. Now. And the thing - this thing standing in front of you - is ready.

You close your eyes for a moment, concentrate, calculate the distribution, as you always do.

Your aura flows through your body like electricity: 80% for the physical reinforcement of your body, 15% in your right arm - the corpse and throwing arm - and the last 5% in your left arm if you have to block or double throw.

Take your hands out of your coat pocket. A steel ball in each hand. And you don't feel the weight - because it's not the metal that's heavy, it's what you have to carry.

Jinx draws her weapon next to you.

And you say it in your mind, like before every fight.

This world is wrong.

But just as Jinx fires, and the monster - this thing that is not human and not animal - runs off without showing even a fraction of reaction to the bullets, a thought makes its way through your mind, almost like a final warning, like the flickering of a dying candle:

If one of us dies here... I'll never be able to tell Powder that Vander is still alive.

Your head switches off. Not out of panic, but out of pure function. Your body takes over.

The first set of claws hits the void where you were just a moment ago. You are no longer there - you are in the air, your cloak tearing through the room like a dark shadow, and you have already thrown.

The steel ball flies, spins at breakneck speed, crashes right into the monster's face, and for a moment you think you hear the sound of breaking bone - but then... A thud. No punch through.

The ball is thrown back like a pebble against steel.

Wha-?

No time. Not a second. If your body hadn't moved on its own, you'd be nothing but red mist on the wall. The claws crash to the ground, shredding rock like paper, tearing up the floor where you were just standing, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat.

But you're not thinking about fear. You are thinking - of aura. Of reaction time. Of defense angles. Panic doesn't get through because there's no room for it.

From the back: Bullets. Impacts in the monster's back. Jinx keeps firing, her hands barely trembling, but you can see that her eyes are pleading - not out of fear, but out of concern for you.

But the beast pays no attention to her. It only focuses on you. Only on the one it considers to be the biggest threat. Only on the strongest person in the room.

Here it comes again. No hesitation. It runs like a storm and you dodge it. Not instinctively, but calculated.

You read his movements, his patterns, his false steps.

Left - right - right - left - left - right - right-!

It is not creative, not unpredictable. It fights like an animal. But something is wrong. You can see it.

Between the attacks, in the seconds when your eyes cross, something shimmers. Something human. Something painful. Those eyes... they are not empty. They remind you of something. Of someone.

You continue to evade. Use your aura only in small streams, concentrate it on your legs, on your spine, on your reflexes. No wear and tear. No overload. You must not make a mistake. Because every mistake against this thing is fatal.

You continue to analyze. The aura around the being is not random - it is controlled. Not chaotic, but purposefully suppressive. As if someone wanted you to feel the pressure. As if it were a test.

And the longer you look at it, the clearer it becomes: This is no ordinary shimmer experiment.

This here is a soldier. Bred, trained, unleashed. And you are its target.

But this time you won't be the one who falls. Not this time. Not as long as Jinx is behind you. Not as long as Isha is waiting for you outside somewhere.

You keep dodging, throwing steel ball after steel ball - perfectly calculated, clean in timing, but ineffective.

Every hit brings you only one thing: time.

Time you need to not die. Time that you both need to not be extinguished.

Hurt? Hardly possible. Not unless you completely dissolve in an attack that consumes your entire aura. But that would be madness - not here, not now.

You have to survive, not win.

And then it happens. The moment he strikes down at you, you prepare your step, your body already angled to dodge, you hit something harder than any attack: your own heart.

Tears creep into your vision, blur your gaze, soften it, make you weak. And while your body reacts with a delay, it strikes.

A hit, directly on your right arm. The aura, the weight, the raw, primal force - everything penetrates you. The bones splinter, break, tear through you like wet wood.

You want to redirect the aura, you want to react, but it's too late. The pain doesn't explode, it rolls over you like a tsunami and the next moment you're flying.

You crash through the wall, stones burst, your back hits the ground, and with the last of your strength you gather aura in your spine just to prevent the break.

Your ribs are screaming, your right arm hangs lifeless, but the worst part isn't the pain. It's the tears dripping onto the floor.

You are angry, yes. But the anger is drowned out. By the voice in your head. By the memories. By him.

"You should understand that... After all, you have a good brain."

Vander.

Why... Now of all times?

You push yourself up, trembling, with your left hand, with what still works. Your gaze lifts - and you see it: Jinx.

Trapped under the monster's paw, her face only centimeters away from the claws that could dig into her skin. Her eyes wide open, full of rage, full of fear - not for herself, but for you.

You don't shout. You do not think. You run.

You push all the aura into your legs until they burn and charge forward, faster than your body should actually allow.

Everything inside you pulsates. You are aware that this could be your last attempt. That you could be too late. That you might not even have the strength to bridge the gap.

But then - just before you arrive - you hear it. A voice. Deep. Scratchy. Human. Broken.

"Powder."

Standstill.

Time stands still.

You recognize it.

Not by the tone of voice. Not by the shape of the mouth. But through what lies between the syllables.

By the weight of the name. Vander.

The thing in front of you - the beast that is trying to kill you - is Vander. Your father. Your anchor. The man you thought you'd lost. The man whose death you blame yourself for.

The man you... brought back. Only not like this.

And suddenly you lose the ground under your feet, because you know what that means. You know what you have to admit. That you knew. That you kept quiet all this time.

Before Jinx. From Vi. From yourself.

And you also know that from now on you no longer have two problems.

You have three.

Explaining to Jinx that Vander is alive and why you lied.

Vander back.

And to stop your own decay.

---

Wow - what a chapter. (Do I say that every time?)

I don't want to say much, except: I'm sorry it took so long again. Especially at these high temperatures, it's hard to sit down at the PC without melting immediately.

Since he's a soldier I think he should definitely have some form of ptsd. There is no way he doesn't have that.

The sudden loss of almost all of his squad definitely was the most traumatic event that happened to him, but also eventually led to him accepting he has to talk about that and accept and allow his emotions to come through, too.

I'm no expert (more likely a noob) when it comes to ptsd but I think losing his father two years prior made him more 'unemotional' than before as he was also drilled by Militech to be a war machine — to be strong, have less emotions to the point to shut them down. Maybe also combat stims provided to bring emotions into the background? (have to look it up).

He didn't see it happen how his father died, but he found footage later after he began to try finding out why and what really happened (Cynosure) that eventually leads to the traumatic end of his squad the more he found out. He always thought his father was indestructible. He looked up to him.

His tie with his father and mother was good, so no trauma through his childhood except when he got mobbed by other young teenage trainees for his albinism at first <- turned him into the direction: "show them you can do it nonetheless, that you can beat them in training", which led to Thyjs being one of the best soldiers in the end -> brought him to KCT and into the international spec ops team after many deployments worldwide.

So I think along his way to become a soldier and various events more or less traumatic (as he's seen a lot of death, destruction and had to kill on command, without mercy and even torture captives for information, was struck by lightning and the loss of his left forearm) he started developing some emotional numbness or psychical numbing. His affectivity went into the background (as he is not interested to form special bonds or a love relationship) and he's more distant towards the normal life as he doesn't have one (e.g. may not have spent his free time with typical army spare time activities like his other mates did. Instead he used it to train/educate himself even more). He cannot enjoy simple daily life and has to learn how to integrate again after the accident as his soldier career has ended. The loss of his future expectation lets him have no perspective at first and he feels empty inside and utterly betrayed by Militech. The army was his life.

Thanks to Ryder he is able to join the merc team and finds a new purpose (help and mostly protection of the team). Through Ryder and the others he learns to integrate himself into 'the normal' life (as I don't see merc life on the same level as soldier life). Night City is at first ofc too much for him so he often goes back out into the badlands to find some 'peace', away from the noise, time to think and breathe, process it all, grapple with all the new impressions and emotions that hail down on him. He needs some time-out once in a while to process the 'daily life' he consumes now every day as well. That may explain why he’s still a bit more distant towards Ryder/the team for a certain while as he has to learn how to get around with each of them and especially the impulsive character Ryder has until he knows him better, as he got offered to live in Ry’s flat. 

Then he discovers he slowly develops feelings for Ryder he never had felt before ever. They are subtle at first but get stronger and he accepts them eventually and starts to allow himself to show them to him. He rediscovers what feelings truly are, what joy is and how you laugh with a bright earnest smile on your lips and what it is to be in love with someone.

Last time he may have felt real and pure joy was when he was a child. As a small boy, before Militech school started, he was always obsessed over flowers and loved to draw. Now that he's a merc with having more spare time he begins to pick this up again and that's why he goes (and even asks Ryder to come with him) to art galleries and starts thinking about making art as well or just buys a bouquet of flowers he looks at for hours. Goes back to listening to classical music too. I think this is sort of his 'own' therapy choice to get back into normal life. He definitely sees a MedTech for treatment as well who may have suggested to him to just do that once they found out what Thyjs 'does enjoy'.

This will probably be super hard to write and I'll never reach that goal in perfection either but I try at least to steer it this way, be it only details or Thyjs talking about it.

Thyjs also opens fully up only to Ryder. He may be friendly to everyone (as he's learned to keep a fake 'joy' smile) and also likes everyone in the team but he only talks about his true insecurities in every detail with Ry. The rest of the team only gets a superficial version of it. That is my plan.

I always picture him more like a peripheral figure when the team enjoys e.g. a billiard play in The Afterlife. He's the one who just sits in the corner and watches rather than plays billiards. He's trained to watch the area and surroundings nonstop, so it's hard for him to let go of that fully — at least for a while.

Idk if Ry and Thy will ever argue about something. It's likely to happen but I can't think of any situation yet. I really do see them as one heart and soul and that they complete each other. Thyjs, being totally reserved, learns Ryder to be calmer while Ryder, being totally impulsive and full with all of kinds of emotions, helps Thyjs to rediscover and let out his emotions as well on top shows him how to live more normal (as merc life also is not that normal).

In fact I think everyone of my boys (except Jay maybe - maybe not, maybe he's got it too) had their own ptsd moments they have to fight with more or less each day. I don't want to analyze it entirely but thinking about it is just very interesting. But as said I'm no expert in that but I doubt there will be someone pointing their finger at me telling me "this is false what you wrote" in the end, so I spent my time with thinking about it and write down and share some bits and pieces.

Kudos if you read all this <3

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Gwen Cooper: Torchwood, Series Four