The return to the workshop was a hurricane of triumphant energy, with Jinx at the eye of the storm.She burst into the abandoned turbine with the force of one of her own explosions, laughing hysterically—a sharp, manic sound that bounced off the metal walls. Kaen followed, not dragged along this time, but walking with the calm of a conductor who had just finished a perfect symphony… though he still wore that ridiculous plague doctor mask.
"HAHAHAHA! Did you SEE their faces?!" Jinx yelled, tossing the loot bag onto her cluttered workbench. She yanked Kaen's mask off and threw it into a corner. "It was perfect! More than perfect! It was… colorful!"
She spun to face him, her eyes shining with feverish euphoria, and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "You were right, Dead Fish! You were completely right! Killing them? Boring! Predictable! But blasting them—humiliating them—with screaming pink and electric blue while they went flying? THAT WAS SUPER FUN!"
Kaen removed his modified bass—"The Beast of Noise," as he'd christened it in his mind—and set it on an improvised stand with the reverence usually reserved for sacred relics."Art should evoke an emotional reaction, not merely a cessation of vital functions," he stated, his monotone voice a stark contrast to the chaos around him. "Pink conveys an ironic vulnerability, while blue symbolizes the melancholy of their imminent disciplinary report. It is visual poetry."
Jinx ignored him, already rummaging through the bag with the impatience of a child on Christmas morning. She dumped the contents onto the table: a heap of scribbled research notes, a couple of small Hextech prototypes that clearly shouldn't be there, and in the center of it all—the gem.
It was flawless. A deep blue crystal, polished to a gleam, pulsing with a soft, steady inner light. Pure, contained power. Jinx's fingers—normally stained with grease and gunpowder—brushed its smooth surface with unexpected delicacy. She lifted it toward the light, its reflection dancing in her eyes."I got it," she whispered, a rare note of awe in her voice.
That calm lasted exactly five seconds.
With a grin stretching from ear to ear, she placed the gem carefully on an improvised pedestal and darted over to an old gramophone in the corner. She dropped the needle onto a vinyl record.
A raw, dirty electric guitar riff ripped through the air, followed by pounding drums and a defiant, mocking female voice. The music filled the workshop—an explosion of punk-rock energy that was the perfect soundtrack to her personality. (Song – "Get Jinxed")
"AND NOW—CELEBRATION!" she screamed over the music.
She yanked a lever on a scrap-metal contraption attached to a pipe in the room. The machine roared to life, spitting a rain of sparks and rockets that whistled and burst against the turbine's ceiling in explosions of brilliant color. In the middle of her own indoor fireworks show, Jinx threw her arms up, spinning in place.
"HAPPY PROGRESS DAY!" she howled, her laughter mingling with the music and explosions.
Her gaze landed on Kaen, who was standing there admiring the new vacuum tubes on his bass, utterly unfazed by the dangerously close rain of sparks. Bursting with energy, Jinx dashed toward him.
"Don't just stand there like a boring fish! Dance!"
Before Kaen could process the command, she grabbed him by the arms of his jacket and started shaking him to the beat of the music—using him more as an inanimate dance partner than an actual person.
Kaen did not dance. He became a glorified ragdoll, his arms and legs flailing helplessly while Jinx hopped and spun around him, dragging him into her chaotic orbit. His head bobbed side to side, his silver-white hair flying everywhere. His face, as always, remained expressionless.
While his body was being mercilessly shaken by a blue-braided force of nature, his mind was elsewhere."This modification is genius," he thought, glancing at his bass out of the corner of his eye. "The gramophone amplifier adds a vintage touch to the sonic distortion. Jinx has an undeniable talent for engineering. A true artist in her own way."He was immensely proud of his performance tonight. The explosion of colors, the hellish sound… it had been his masterpiece so far.
The song continued—catchy, anarchic. Kaen, despite being used as a human maraca, found himself listening closely. The melody was raw, the lyrics a direct challenge. It had… personality.
"Hey," he said, his monotone somehow steady despite the shaking. "This music."
"WHAT?!" Jinx yelled, leaning closer to hear him. "DON'T YOU LIKE IT?!"
"No. It's… competent," he admitted—the highest praise his ego would allow for another's work. "Did you make this song?"
Jinx stopped mid-spin, surprised by the question. A smile of genuine pride lit up her face."Of course I did! Who else could?"
Kaen nodded slowly, his expression one of deep analysis despite his deadpan stare. He looked at her, the music still thundering through the workshop.
"It's good," he concluded. "It has energy. Aggressive, chaotic. A reflection of the artist's psyche. But…" He paused for dramatic effect. "…it would be complete with the deep, soulful resonance of my bass. The contrast between your chaos and my melodic soul would create a generational masterpiece."
Jinx stared at him. The music kept playing. The fireworks sputtered out. And then—she burst into laughter. A strong, genuine laugh, so intense she had to let go of him to avoid collapsing.
"You're unbelievable!" she said between laughs, wiping away a tear. "We just stole Piltover's biggest power source and the only thing you're thinking about is how to 'improve' my song with your awful bass!"
"It's a matter of artistic priorities," Kaen replied with unshakable dignity, straightening his now thoroughly crumpled jacket.
Jinx shook her head, still grinning. The adrenaline of the heist, combined with Kaen's absurd company, had left her in a state of pure euphoria. For the first time in a long while, the ghosts in her head were completely silent—drowned out by rock and roll and the ridiculous arrogance of her one, strange friend.