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Powder can feel her sanity splintering these days. She works hard to hide it from her family, keeping an ironclad control at all times, but she can feel it slipping away from her and dissolving into the darkness that threatens to consume her.
Her sense of self cracks a little further with every scream she has to swallow. Vander's, Milo's and Claggor's quiet grief, like they have started to give up, grates on her soul. As her sister's health slips further, Powder also finds herself caring less about what she might be becoming.
On the other side of the room, Vi sways on her feet, clutching at the pole of their bunk bed to keep her balance. Her breaths deepen, taking on that deliberate, artificial quality that means she's fighting another attack.
It's useless, of course, and Powder watches it happen again, frozen in place by her own terror. It's Claggor who rushes to grab Vi when she loses the fight against her own body and her legs give out. He maneuvers her until she's sitting on the bed and rests a comforting hand on the back of her neck as Vi doubles over. She chokes and coughs, trembling violently.
Dark blue rose petals spill out of Vi's mouth with every breath she manages to take. Most are wet with blood and saliva and stick to the grimy floor, but a couple flutter down instead, beautifully like a promise. Powder resists the urge to rush over and stomp on them.
When the coughing fit stops, Vi closes her eyes and leans against Claggor's arm. Just yesterday she'd have gotten to her feet straight away and pretended that nothing had happened, but today she doesn't have the strength for even that.
"I'm fine," she mumbles after a long moment, but they all hear the lie in the rasp of her voice. Vi never used to lie to her. Everyone else, yes, but never her.
"Hey, why don't you, uh… stay in today? Take it easy?" Claggor asks.
Vi opens her eyes and glares, pushing away from him. "I'm not an invalid."
"Coulda fool me," Milo jumps into the argument. His rebuke would work better if he could keep his voice steady around Vi these days.
"What, like that's hard?" Vi snaps.
"Vi, please?" Powder says.
Vi breaks her staring contest with Milo to look at her. For a moment, it seems like she's going to keep arguing, but she's never been good at resisting Powder's pleas when she really wants something. Vi huffs.
"Fine. But just for today," she says with a challenge in her voice. She leans back on the bunk with a grimace of disgust and lingering pain. "And I'm not wasting away in bed, I'll help at the bar or something."
It isn't an ideal solution. On an average day, about two thirds of the patrons will be smoking. Vi's lungs won't be able to handle it; but she'll at least listen to Vander if he orders her to stop. It beats Vi overexerting and hurting herself in any of the tricky routes to Piltover.
Claggor and Milo hurry towards the exit, like they are afraid Vi will change her mind if they dally. Powder follows close on their heels, risking a glance back when she reaches the door. Vi is laying on the bed, staring vacantly at the opposite wall, and Powder rushes away.
The other two have stopped in front of The Last Drop, speaking softly to avoid being overhead.
"Let's stake that fancy clinic Little Man marked for us. I think we are on the right track with that," Claggor says and Milo nods. When Powder tries to join them however, Milo shoves her away, forcing her to take a step back.
"You're not coming," he says.
"Why not?" she asks indignantly.
"Because we can't have any screw-ups, alright?" Milo retorts, crossing his arms. "Everytime you come to a job, it blows in our faces. We can't take chances, not with Vi's life. Go find your Marked or whatever."
Claggor looks away, but remains silent. Milo pushes her again. He isn't really being rough. She could easily slap his arm away, but his words freeze her in place. A few days ago she would have done more. She would have shouted and tried to hit him, but today it seems like too much work for too little reward.
She stays, rooted in front of the bar, long after she loses sight of their backs as they walk away from her.
— 🌹 —
The first lesson Powder remembers learning is that life is deeply unfair. In the undercity, good and bad people suffer indiscriminately. The rich get richer and the poor starve.
Her second is that death can come at any moment. She knows she's lucky to have always had a shelter, no matter how rickety, and to always have had someone to support her and take care of her.
Of all the deaths she has avoided thus far, the slow suffocation caused by Heartbreak sickness is the most cruel. The name itself is rather misleading, as actual feelings aren't always involved. It's described as a possibility, two compatible souls coming into close contact. The bond may be triggered by a smile over the same joke, by accidentally brushing against each other, by meeting each other's eyes across a crowded street.
When it happens, a flower appears, drawn somewhere in their skin. From there, it grows. If it's left unattended, its roots burrow inward, until they reach the lungs, and then they start blooming inside until there's no more room to hold air anymore.
The only way to stop the process is to find that other person and balance each other. There's something about love that keeps the growth in check. Some people believe that it is because the flowers are trying to reach each other, so they never set roots. Powder doesn't really care about the reasons though, only what this illness is doing to her sister.
Finding the one who can stop the flowers is, of course, rather hard to do when you not only don't know who they are, but you likely belong to completely different worlds.
The truth is that, for one of the Marked, Powder got off easy. Her pearly white orchids had been mirrored in electric blue against Ekko's dark skin almost immediately. There had barely been enough time for her throat to itch before they had clasped eyes on each other's marks and known and accepted the symbol of a bond they already had.
When her orchids appeared and gained their color, Powder had been so relieved. Happy, even. She and Ekko had abandoned what they were doing and ran to the Last Drop, telling everyone they knew. There had been a quiet but heartfelt celebration that night.
She had been such a fool. After days of watching Vi struggle, she realizes that her party hadn't been for the Marks, but because the adults were thankful that neither of them would suffer under the whims of an arbitrary fate.
Not every marked pair realize they had met at first, and not all of them get to meet again.
— 🌹 —
It's an open secret in Zaun that there are medicines in Piltover that can be used to combat Heartbreak symptoms. They are hard to make and they have to be tailored to the individual, so they are ludicrously expensive, but they can extend a person's life almost indefinitely.
The boys have been talking about raiding a clinic on the other side of the river for a few days now and even if the plan is almost certainly doomed to fail, it burns to know she isn't considered good enough to help.
Powder wanders the streets alone for what feels like hours. Her mind is disconnected, like it's stuffed with cotton. Vi needs her family, and Powder is just wasting time away from her. There has to be something useful she can do.
She’s so caught up in her thoughts that she’s almost taken by surprise when someone lunges at her, trying to get at the shiny metal bands on her braids. She jumps back, kicking the man solidly in the stomach; for all of his height, he crumples easily, and it only takes Powder a moment to realize why.
Bulging purple veins cover his thin, stick-like arms as the man tries to grasp at her hair again. Powder dodges, slapping the hand away. Before she can think about it her instincts kick in and she runs away, weaving through people and small passages. When she finally stops her heart is in her throat. Most of the reason is the physical exertion; but not all of it.
That could be the answer she was looking for: Shimmer.
Powder had almost forgotten about it.
Her first instinct is to reject the very thought of using it. Shimmer is one of the few subjects that makes Vander truly angry. He has banned people from the Last Drop because he caught them doing Shimmer inside the bar and he regularly rants to Benzo about it being a poison to their society. There's some history there with the drug lord who manufactures it too, though she isn't foolish enough to ask.
To be fair, Shimmer is dangerous. It's addictive and it ends up disfiguring the user the more they consume it, but Vi is strong and Shimmer would take the pain away. It would give her time. If Powder could help her feel lucid for just a few days, Vi would find a solution. If her mind wasn't fogged by exhaustion, maybe she'd remember a clue about that day she met her match.
Here at last, there's something Powder can do. She refuses to be useless again.
It takes her four days to source a peddler whose product she halfway trusts. Shimmer can't be cut with other crap, as it burns through most substances quickly, but she's not gambling with this. Another two days go by before Vi relents to their pleading and stays behind again, letting Powder slip away unnoticed. This time, she doesn't wait for the boys to leave and bolts away, carrying what little valuables she has been able to steal and the money she made pawning others with Ekko's help, even if he hasn't realized why she needs it.
She ventures deeper into the Lanes, down into the lower levels where even she can't breathe without feeling the fumes burning their way down her throat. The light dims until only the fluorescent lights let her see what she's doing, casting a sickly green glow over her hands. She clutches the cleaver knife she nicked from the bar's kitchen, wishing she had brought a better weapon, but this, along with Mouser, was the only thing she could take without arising suspicion.
It's too late to turn back now, anyway. She'll lose her nerve for good if she does. She walks straight, avoids eye contact, uses all of her willpower to keep herself from flinching. If she allows weakness to show here, she might not walk back out.
After the longest half-hour of her life, she reaches the place she was looking for. It's a sad little opening between buildings, under the shadow of one of Silco's factories. About a half-dozen of his goons patrol the area; but here it's possible to find Shimmer that hasn't gone through at least four different hands.
Powder pulls her hood up to hide her distinctive blue hair and approaches a lanky man with twitching fingers doing a terrible impression of calm. Thankfully her flimsy cover isn't put to the test. He barely looks at her, haggling with an almost distracted air and a growing tremor in his voice that speaks of the beginning of withdrawal.
It takes every coin she has managed to save and a golden ring she swept from a distracted Piltie years ago on one of her first jobs with Vi. It hurts to part with the symbol of one of her first victories, but she had always known it would happen one day. Her palms are sweaty and her heart threatens to pound out of her chest, but she's succeeded.
She clutches the vial and needle in her hand and flees for home.
— 🌹 —
Vi presses the hairbrush at the top of Powder's head and brushes her hair from the root to the tips with steady, practiced movements. Even though Powder is already fifteen, and more than capable of braiding her own hair, she still cherishes these moments when she can almost fool herself into believing that nothing has ever gone wrong and that their parents are just around the corner.
The vial is a heavy weight in her pocket. It's been three days and it's still there. She has taken it out, studied the purple-pink refraction when the light hits it just right, but she hasn't been able to bring it up yet.
"Are you going to keep growing your hair?" Vi asks, parting the strands. She moves to Powder's side and begins twisting them with practiced movements, weaving in and out into a neat braid.
Powder shrugs, blowing some of the loose hair away from her face.
"I think you should. It suits you," Vi says, starting on the second braid. Powder lets her work in silence. Today is a good day. Vi only had one attack, early in the morning, but it passed quickly and her spirits seem high.
"Vi?"
Her sister is holding a hair pin in her mouth, so she only hums in question.
"If… I had done something rash. To help. Would you let me?"
Vi's hands still. There's a shuffling sound, and when Powder looks up Vi is in front of her, pressing her hands against her shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, of course!" Powder exclaims.
"Then it's fine. What's your plan?"
Powder hesitates only a moment longer, and then she rummages in her pocket. She brings the vial out and extends her hand towards her sister. The liquid inside refracts the light in pink and purple hues, little bubbles betraying the strength of the solution.
Vi rears back as if Powder had slapped her.
"No."
"But, Vi—"
"I said no. End of discussion."
"Please, Vi, I’m trying to help you—"
"I won't become a Shimmer addict!" Vi shouts over her. A moment later she's curled into herself and her frame shakes with harsh coughs that make the rickety bed groan.
It seems to go on forever, and then it gets worse. Vi gags and whimpers, breathy choked-off sounds escaping her mouth. Blood wells up between her fingers, dripping on the bedcovers. Powder abandons the vial and pounds on her back, unsure if she's helping at all, but finally her sister manages to spit what's obstructing her airways.
In Vi's hands there's a single bud and a bunch of sturdy little thorns, glistening red.
They both stare at it in silent horror. Vi's hand trembles. A full flower, even if it's a bud, means that their time is running out. The illness has reached the terminal stage.
Powder gives a strangled cry. Her eyes sting, and before Vi can see the tears, Powder hugs her desperately. Vi clings to her like she hasn't done in years, burying her face in her shoulder. She's trying to stifle the sounds, but Powder realizes with distant horror that she can feel the silent sobs wrecking her body.
Crying is supposed to make you feel better, but it doesn't. It only leaves you feeling empty.
— 🌹 —
Hours later, Powder struggles with the garbage bag as she completes her share of the chores, stifling a yawn. Vander had said she didn't have to do it, after having found them exhausted from the emotional upheaval, but Powder needed to keep herself busy.
"Hey, kid," an unfamiliar voice says behind her.
Powder drops the bag and whirls around, bringing her fists up. The woman chuckles, lifting her hands in mock surrender, and it's the mixture of danger and playfulness that sparks a flash of recognition.
It's been years since Powder last saw Sevika, but there's no one else it could be. She used to be a regular at the bar, until she and Vander had a huge row after a series of Enforcer raids looking for a gang of thieves nearly started a second massacre a few years ago.
Vander wanted to lie low and preserve lives. Sevika wanted to lead a mob through the Bridge and do as much damage as possible. Powder looks at the prosthetic arm that she's sure wasn't there before, and wonders if Sevika still believes her way was the right answer. Judging by her next words, it appears so.
"I come in peace, kid. Wouldn't do to harm a paying customer, after all."
Powder's blood runs cold. She looks around them, but thankfully they are alone. Still, this isn't a conversation she wants to have near the bar.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Sevika laughs, "Don't worry, I won't go telling tales. You know that old fool Vander wouldn't listen to a word I say anyway. But buying Shimmer under his nose… you don't believe in half-measures, do you? That's a hell of a teenage rebellion."
"My sister is ill," she says, and refuses to explain further. Still, Sevika smirks like she knows.
"I heard." She says it like she could be talking about the weather, like there's nothing wrong about it, and that is what finally gets through Powder's defenses.
"She didn't take it. She won't."
“If she wants to die so badly, let her."
“Shut up!”
Sevika watches her, the smoke of her cigar just thick enough that Powder can't make out the look in her eyes. When she speaks, she uses a forced casual tone.
“There is a simpler way to free her,” she says like it isn't Powder's heart hanging in the balance.
"What is it?" She asks when it's clear that Sevika is waiting for the question.
The woman smirks. “Kill your sister’s Marked before she dies. The weed dries out: problem solved.”
Powder's breath catches in her chest. It would work. It wouldn't solve the problem completely. She knows Marked whose partners have died, and they always look like they are a little bit in pain. But they are alive, and mobile. The roots never go away, but the flowers stop growing. That's better than the alternative by a mile.
"I don't know who it is," she says instead of the million thoughts fighting for dominance in her head.
"Don't be coy, girl, it doesn't suit you," Sevika says. "Information is power."
And Silco has that power, she doesn't say, but Powder hears it. It's another secret that everyone who knows what to look for is aware of: Silco has an informant somewhere in the upper ranks of Piltover. He has the answer she needs.
"What would I have to do?"
If she has the name, she'll have that power. She doesn't have to resort to killing, she soothes her conscience. Not to start with. Even if Vi's Marked is medicating to stop the deterioration, whoever it is must be suffering in some small way. They might agree to come back with her, and then Vi and Vander could convince them to…
To what? What if they refuse? What if they take Vi with them and Powder never sees her again? That has happened before, hasn't it? What if…
No, no, one problem at a time. The name. She needs the name. The rest will come later.
"Ha, you're clever, aren't you?" Sevika says, "Silco has a job for you. A jackass up there is trying to muscle into the market. He has to be taught better.”
Powder can't stop a grimace. She's no stranger to violence. Though Vi had largely kept their little group out of the gang wars that ignite on occasion, no child of Zaun reaches Powder's age without knowing how to enter a fight and make sure the other person won't be the one walking away.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t too hard." Sevika says, as if in answer to her hesitation. "No casualties. We want you to sabotage an operation, blow a warehouse or two. In return, Silco will give you the name.”
“That’s all?”
"For now," Sevika says, taking a long drag of her cigar. "In three days, meet us at the main bridge. We're counting on you, kid," she adds, but a touch of sardonic amusement betrays her true meaning.
She leaves without another word. After a moment, Powder rushes after her, observing her back as people step aside to let Sevika pass, some in fear and some in awe.
She's not an idiot. This isn't a favor by a worried neighbour. If she accepts, if she commits a true crime rather than the petty robbery and vandalism she's used to, there won't be a way back. Silco will own her. She has seen people get drawn deeper and deeper into this kind of web, and she knows it's almost impossible to get out of it.
Vi would hate it. She wouldn't thank Powder for letting herself be snared. Vander would hate it.
She's still wavering with indecision, watching the same spot where Sevika disappeared when she notices people changing paths and making way for another person. This time, there's only fear in their stances.
Powder gasps and instinctively presses to the wall, making herself small and unremarkable as an Enforcer in full uniform strides past her and turns left, into a familiar street near the bar.
The only thing of note in that direction is Benzo's shop.
Her heart beats loudly in her ears as she follows the Enforcer with silent steps. It's probably paranoia, but she needs to know that there aren't any more tragedies coming their way. She's probably wrong, it has to be nothing, what would an Enforcer want with Zaun scum?
…Do they know? Have they come to take Vi away? They can't know, can they?
Powder suddenly finds it hard to breathe through the sudden wave of panic. What if they think like Sevika did? What if they decide to just eliminate the problem from the root? It can't happen, it can't, she won't let it get to that.
The Enforcer strides into the shop, making the bell on the door jingle. Powder reaches the shop a few seconds after, but hesitates at the door.
"Powder, up here!"
She looks up. Ekko is waving from the window on the second floor while pressing a finger against his lips with his other hand. She climbs up as stealthily as she can.
When she enters the room the tight knot of anxiety in her chest starts to loosen. He's smiling, happy to see her as always, and Powder can't help but smile back.
"I installed a listening device a few weeks back. Benzo hasn't found it yet," Ekko says, pointing to something that looks like the offspring of a trumpet and a magnifying glass.
He takes his jacket off and fiddles with the contraption, until the voices start becoming clearer. She catches a glimpse of the orchid on Ekko's arm and her improved mood plummets again. It's replaced by a guilt so unexpected that it gives her whiplash and leaves her feeling dizzy. Instead of answering, she crouches near a crack on the wall, spying on the second floor. It's hard to see from this angle, but Vander's and Benzo's figures are unmistakable.
The Enforcer has taken her breathing mask off in the time it takes Ekko to get his device working. It's a middle-aged woman with blue eyes creased by crow's feet, but Powder isn't fooled by her appearance. This is clearly not a woman to cross.
"Is that all?" Vander is saying. His voice is oddly distorted, but clear enough through the space between them. "After all the years we've known each other, that is all you have to say?"
Powder can't breathe. Vander is talking like they know each other, but how can that be?
"And I've always been thankful, you know that," the Enforcer says. "You've kept the peace where my name means nothing. You have saved who knows how many lives—"
"And where has it gotten me?" Vander interrupts. "I did it for my kids, so they could have a chance. Now you're telling me that my daughter's life is forfeit for the sake of… what? Someone's privacy?"
"I'm sorry, truly. But there's nothing I can do."
Vander hits the counter behind him with a closed fist, his expression contorted in a mask of fury.
"Get out. While you can."
“You’re making a mistake, Vander. Yes, it’s regrettable that she's dying, but there's more at stake here, I can’t just release a citizen's name—”
“Get. Out. I see where we stand now. Leave, Enforcer. And a word of advice, free of charge. Don't come back."
The woman shakes her head with a disappointed sigh. She puts her mask back on with slow, deliberate movements, not moving her gaze from Vander as she does so, like she’s giving him a chance to take his words back.
Ekko is standing so rigidly that it seems a miracle his spine doesn't snap with the tension. Powder puts a hand over her mouth to muffle her loud breaths, sure that it will echo in the icy silence and betray their position; but the Enforcer doesn’t say anything else. She just turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind her.
When she’s gone, Vander curls his hands into fists, closes his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose, but in the end his self-control fails. The few objects on Benzo’s counter go flying, crashing to the floor, as he violently sweeps them away with a snarl.
Benzo puts a hand on Vander’s shoulder, and he leans into the touch.
“You did what you could,” Benzo says.
“It’s not enough,” Vander says. “I can’t let it end like this,” he adds, but there’s a note of pleading in his voice that makes Powder feel like crying all over again.
Benzo says something else, too low for Powder to hear, but she can’t stay here any longer, not when the walls seem to be closing in on her. She stumbles out of her hiding spot, ignoring Ekko's soft questions and platitudes. She can't take his misplaced concern now, so she hurries away from the shop. If even Vander thinks it’s hopeless, then what chance does she have?
But she does have a chance, she does. If it makes her indebted to Silco, so what? She knows she can do what they have asked of her; she’s spent years working with bombs, perfecting them until they’re works of art. Vi herself has praised them on occasion, so what’s so wrong about using them to save her?
If Vander was ready to make a deal with the devil, then why shouldn’t she?
She will save Vi. She will, she will, she will. Whatever it takes, she will.
— 🥀 —
"Pow-pow? Will you be back soon?" Vi asks without opening her eyes. Her voice is too soft. It's not that Powder's sister isn't gentle with her, because she always is; but she never lets herself be this vulnerable.
It feels like a death knell. It's been weeks, and Vi has been steadily fading since the first petal fell, but today is the first time Powder has caught herself wondering how the world would be if Vi isn’t in it. She had taken a screwdriver as soon as she became conscious of that thought and drove it into the meat of her palm, relishing the pain. Now the wound stings all over again.
She won't say goodbye. Not yet. Vi is still breathing, and as long as she does, Powder can save her. She has to do this one job, and Vi will be here when she brings her the answer. She has to be. The future will come after.
“Yes, I promise,” Powder says, and flees the room.
The streets of Zaun are never empty, but the weather has been foul lately, muggy and sweltering. All the people outside move with purpose. Powder takes a winding route to the meeting point, aware of every pair of eyes that settle on her as she moves. There's still a chance that Vander will learn about what she's doing, and she can't afford to have any of her family following her today. She can't return empty-handed. It seems to take an eternity, and Powder's heart is pounding when she finally arrives.
"I see you didn't balk, kid," Sevika says with a smirk when she sees her. The condescension is clear in everything from her tone to her posture, and Powder grits her teeth, pushing her anger down and out of sight.
"But I'm here. So you better deliver what you promised," She says instead.
No one else in the group speaks. Most of them are probably too hopped up on Shimmer to care about anything else, though a blond guy only a little older than Vi glares at her with a look that could have curdled milk. She makes sure to always stay out of reach as they make their way across the river.
In Piltover, Serika holds her back as the group disappears into the narrow streets. She points towards a three-storied, nondescript warehouse barely visible in the distance.
"That's where the bastard has the bulk of his production. The idiot hasn't even tried to divide it yet."
"How much damage should I do?"
Sevika's smile turns nasty. "Level it."
Almost against her will, Powder grins.
When she reaches the building, she doesn't waste time. She makes her rounds around the warehouse on light feet, resting her hand on a pillar here or a bearing wall there, calculating the force she'll need to bring them down. It'll be messy, but with Sevika and her goons delivering Silco's "message", there's really no one to stop her. The job's almost disappointingly easy.
She sets the charges carefully, working as quickly as she dares. Twice she thinks she's been had and ducks out of sight before realizing the creaking didn't belong to a human. She climbs to the walkaways, and squeezes behind the distillery. By the time she's done, she's covered in sweat and grime and trying not to think too hard on what substances may be on her at the moment.
Hours have passed when she sets the last explosive, and she knows she's running out of time. Still, she can't help but study the building again as she fiddles with the detonator.
Even here, in the parts of Piltover that are barely better than a slum, Powder can't ignore the injustice that has haunted her all her life. The walls here are an ugly shade of off-white, but unstained and structurally sound. The air is crisp and clean, and the sun's clearly visible, reflecting on the river below. A flock of birds fly overhead, and a crow caws.
Powder's resolve hardens. She presses the trigger.
For a moment the sounds of the world are drowned out, as bright white light fills her vision, sending waves of heat towards her. Even though she has taken care to find a refuge, a piece of debris comes flying towards her, drawing a long line of blood across her cheek. Another tears through the meat of her leg, and a dark patch of blood soaks her striped pants, but she doesn't feel the pain.
The explosion is beautiful. It's an inescapable destructive force the likes of which she has rarely seen. The building groans and collapses; smaller bangs detonating as the machines inside catch fire and overheat. And it's all hers. She made this happen. She has chosen the outcome, and for once it feels like the universe itself is bending to her whims. For once, she has all the power.
When the noise dies down and the dust settles, with her heart still pumping wildly in her chest, Powder turns to walk away.
She's done it. She's done something right, and now she'll—
"Hey, you! You there! Stop!" a heavily modulated voice shouts. She turns to see two Enforcers, fully armoured and armed, barreling towards her. She doesn't know if Sevika's distraction has gone awry, or if they were patrolling, but she has no intention of staying and finding out.
Except that when she tries to run, her leg crumbles under her.
She curses, reaches into her bag, and miraculously she manages to find one more grenade. It's the latest version of Mouser, filled with rusty nails. She's been carrying it for luck, more than actual need, but now it may just save her life.
Powder twists and throws it at the approaching officers, and then fights to get on her feet. There's a cry of pain behind her, but a second later a shot rings out. She risks a look over her shoulder to see one of the Enforcers is on the ground, whether injured or dead she can't say. The other's helmet has been torn off and he has a nasty cut on his forehead, but he's gaining on her fast.
She runs towards the wreckage, picking up a long, twisted piece of pipe as she rounds a corner. Another shot nearly catches her on the shoulder and she crouches down on the next section of the wall, listening for the steps.
When the Enforcer comes into view she swings the pipe into his hand and the gun goes flying out of reach. The Enforcer recovers too quickly and punches her in the face, sending her to the ground.
She tries to squirm away, but he has her trapped under him, and suddenly there's a hand crushing her throat. He's demanding something, but she can't make sense of the words and it's hard to think through the rising panic.
There's another shot. The Enforcer slumps to the side, and Powder has to scramble to avoid the growing pool of blood.
"You're welcome" Sevika says, stepping out of the shadows. She inspects the stolen gun in her hand, scoffs, and tosses it aside. Then she looks at the wreckage and whistles. "Impressive."
Powder watches her with wide eyes. There are flecks of blood covering Sevika's clothes here and there. She can see the Enforcer's corpse from the corner of her eye, and remembers his partner, laying on the ground as well. She heaves, rushing to the wall, and expels what little there is in her stomach.
Sevika parts her on the shoulder, not unkindly. "It'll get easier, kid."
Powder spits the last of the bile and steps away from her touch and the assumption in her words. Instead, she says, "Who is it? Who has my sister's Mark?"
Serika shrugs, walking away to inspect the corpse. "I didn't care enough to ask. Come to the Laboratory tomorrow, and Silco'll tell you the name."
" I want to know, now!" Powder shouts. " You promised to tell me!"
Sevika's eyes flash with annoyance, "Vander may coddle you, but don't take that tone with me. I already told you what to do and I'm now busy dealing with this mess," she said, waving at the man she had just killed. "So you can either stay and help me clean up, or go to Silco tomorrow. He's a man of his word. He'll tell you what want to know."
Powder wants to keep screaming at her, to make demands and take what she was promised, but self-preservation stops her. She's exhausted and in pain. Even if she wasn't, there's no way she can't take on Sevika and survive. Besides, she can't do anything that may jeopardize their deal. She can't do anything but grit her teeth and walk away, for the moment.
As she walks home, however, she silently promises to make Sevika pay for this humiliation one day.
— 🥀 —
Powder tiredly opens the door to the Last Drop hours after it's closed for the night and comes inside, stumbling a little on her bad leg and feeling all of the accumulated small aches settle down to her bones.
“You!”
Time seems to slow down as she sees the fist coming, but isn’t fast enough to dodge and gets punched for the second time. The back of her head collides painfully against the door jam and her rear hits the floor. She looks up in stunned silence, cradling her cheek with a hand.
Milo pulls his arm back, but Claggor catches it before he can throw another punch.
"Where the fuck were you?" Milo shouts, struggling against the stronger teen. "Where the actual fuck were you?! She was asking for you, she… Can't you do anything right, you damn jinx!"
Ekko flinches. Claggor won't meet her eyes, and he starts talking but Powder can't hear him over the heartbeat pounding in her ears, and a rising buzz that's growing louder and higher in pitch and she can't—
Powder stops paying attention to the three of them. She gets up and barrels across the room, into the backroom that has been theirs since she was a child. It isn't true, it isn't, it isn't—
The silence inside her childhood room is heavy, pressing on her like it has a physical presence. Vander sits in the centre of the room, but he's not moving, he's just… there.
She comes down the stairs until she's by his side. Vander doesn't yell. He doesn't look angry at all, and that's even worse. He looks up at her, but his gaze is unfocused, like he isn't truly seeing her. For the first time in her life, he looks small.
When she reaches him, he throws an arm around her. This close, she can feel the tremors racking his body, growing stronger the longer they stay like that. His breath hitches. She feels water drops land on her arm, and looks up.
Powder watches his silent tears fall. Turns back and sees Vi's cracked lips, the heavy bags under her eyes and the unnatural stillness of her chest.
She notices the dark, dark blue rose petals on the mattress and on the floor. The hairbrush laying on the top bunk that Vi will never use again.
Deep in her soul, like a too strained cog that finally gives out, something pops. Her mind
snaps.
The next few hours are a blur. She cries big, ugly sobs and throws things at the wall, though never in Vi's direction. She claws at Vander's arms until her fingernails hurt, screams until her throat gives out and it isn't enough and it only hurts worse because Vi is supposed to make things better but she's dead and Powder needs her here, they're sisters, Vi isn't supposed to just leave her.
Vi Vi Vi why no you can't DON'TGOVIINEEDYOUVI—
At one point, Benzo comes in, and tries to get them to move. The smell of freshly cooked food drifts from the adjacent room, and it makes her want to heave. She pushes him away and flees, wedging herself into a corner. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but shakes his head and leaves.
Over the next day, they all come to her, sooner or later. Ekko presses glasses of water into her hands, begging her to drink. Claggor sits with her until the silence becomes too much for him and he's sobbing into his hands. Milo comes and tries to apologize, but she turns her back and doesn't listen.
Distantly, she feels guilty for shutting down like this. She knows she's just adding to their burdens. They can't handle her grief on top of theirs and there are arrangements to make for Vi's body. More than that, she knows that the world is still moving, even if she feels rooted in place. There are Zaunites who need Vander to mediate before their petty fights become blood feuds. Food has to be put on the table still. Life goes on.
So she should get up, and begin pulling her own weight. Doesn't she owe it to the ones still living?
No. No. They did nothing. They were useless, all of them. Milo and Claggor, roaming the topside like they could just stumble upon the answer. Vander, making deals with Enforcers. Ekko… watching, all he's ever done is watch. She tried something at least, she did her best to actually make a difference, she…
…she hadn't been there. Vi had asked her to be there, they had both known what was coming that morning, and Powder —weak, pathetic Powder— had fled instead.
Why did you leave me?, Vi's voice repeats on a loop in her head. I needed you, so tell me, why did I die alone?
As the storm in her soul crescendos and reaches its climax, a core part of what makes her Powder wavers and snuffs out, like a candle left out in the rain. What's left is rage, fear and hopelessness, and she needs… she needs…
— 🥀 —
The blue-haired woman who enters Silco's lair is not the girl who had planned to come before. There are scratch marks on her face and down her arms, a drop of blood rusting on the gun she carries. Her eyes reflect nothing. The guards see her approach and don't dare to stop her.
She's led into another room, half-lavish office and half-chamber of horrors. Pale creatures swim past the window, occasionally banging on the glass pane. The drug lord himself is seated at a desk filled with papers, twirling a letter opener in his hands.
"Give me the name," she says.
"The topsider didn't kill your sister, you understand," Silco replies, and he's still fiddling with his letter opener, not even bothering to look her in the eye. "Her Marked never even knew who she was. It was this rotten system that left her powerless. She shared our fate, us, the dregs of society, as the topsiders leave us in their dust."
"Give. Me. The name."
"I understand the pain you feel. Do you think you are the only one whose loved ones have died for nothing? Vander used to see it as well as I did, but then he willfully ignored the truth… and dear child, you've just seen how that ends."
He looks up at last, and there might be a spark of pity buried under the contempt, but she can't concentrate on it with the noise buzzing in her ears and Vi's ghost lurking just out of sight. Instead she points the gun at his good eye.
"The name," she grits out through clenched teeth. "Or I'll test if I can pick it out of your brain when it splatters on the wall."
"Heiress Kiramman," Silco answers, and he still sounds unfazed, damn him. "Caitlyn, if I'm not mistaken."
She exhales slowly, studying him for any hint of a lie, but he's too steady to be lying, and it will be easy enough to confirm it.
Kiramman. Of course it's a Kiramman. Of course her sister's match had to belong to one of the bastards who sits on the Council. They weren't satisfied with destroying her life once. They had to take Vi too. At least their parents' death had been quick, a shot to the heart, over and done with before they had even realized what had happened.
Jinx laughs, long and hard until her belly aches.
The time for games is over. She will rip that bitch's heart out with her own hands, carve out the dead rose with her bloody fingernails if she has to. And when she's done?
Piltover will burn.