Chapter XI: Meant To Be, But Never Was

                                    

                                          
For what felt like hours, she had knelt in the middle of the empty street, the cold water seeping through her clothes as the aching weight of her best friend's words crushed her chest. The image of her, flickering like some twisted ghost, haunted her. Her mind couldn't make sense of it. She had been there, yet... not. It hadn't felt real. None of it made sense. But her lips still felt it, like it hadn't been a mirage.
Mila's whole body trembled, her breath ragged and shallow as she stared blankly at the ground, too numb to move. Too hollow to feel anything but the cold emptiness in her chest.
"You always did have a thing for being in the wrong place at the right time."
The voice was a high-pitched sing-song that cut through the night and straight through her mind. Mila's heart lurched, and her head snapped up, eyes wide as she searched the darkness. For a moment, the silence lingered, and then-
A shadow dropped from the rooftop above, landing with a wet thud in front of her.
Jinx. But somehow, different. Her eyes glowed in the darkness, but Mila wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light or her own mind.
"Where's your precious Vi now, huh?" Jinx's voice was sharp and cruel, dripping with a malice that stung worse than the rain or her wound. "Off playing hero while you're left behind, all alone."
Mila's chest tightened, the weight of Jinx's words crushing her. She wanted to scream back, to tell her she was wrong, but her voice was trapped in her throat. Her whole body was shaking from the cold, from the pain, and from something deeper - something that made her feel like she was sinking.
"Vi..." Mila's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it slipped out without her realizing, like a prayer. "Powder... Please..."
For a split second, something flickered in Jinx's eyes - something soft and familiar, something that wasn't twisted by malice or hate. The cold, manic gleam faded for just a moment, and Mila swore she saw a flash of Powder.
Her eyes, wide and almost vulnerable, locked onto Mila's. It was as if the layers of chaos peeled away, and for the briefest moment, the fragile, broken girl beneath the madness surfaced.
Mila's heart leapt, hope flickering in the darkness. "Powder..." she whispered again, her voice hoarse. "Please. You don't have to do this."
And then the softness in Jinx's eyes vanished. The cold, twisted grin returned, sharper than before, and the darkness settled back over her like a cloak. Whatever Silco had created within her friend, was now back with full force.
The younger girl twirled a gun in her hand, her smile growing wider with each step she took toward her old friend. "How's the hand, by the way? I'm soooo sorry about that. Really, I am. But, y'know, casualties and all that."
Mila's muscles tensed, every fiber of her being screaming at her to fight. She could barely feel her own body through the pain, the exhaustion, but she wasn't going to let Jinx win.
With a guttural shout, she lunged forward, swinging her fist with all the force she had left. Her punch was wild, uncoordinated - the fighter in her dimming out every second. But it didn't matter. She wasn't fighting for herself anymore.
Jinx dodged easily, spinning out of the way with a laugh. "Oh, this is good! Go ahead, hit me! Let's see what you've got!"
Mila's breath was ragged, her limbs aching as she threw another punch, only for Jinx to sidestep again, as if they were still kids sparring back in the alleys of Zaun. But this wasn't like those days, and Mila knew it. This was something far more dangerous.
Jinx danced around her punches with an almost childlike glee, her mocking laughter filling the empty street. "Come on, Mila! You used to be so much better at this!"