Hope was a dangerous drug, and Vi's high had vanished as quickly as it came. The old arcade, her childhood sanctuary, had offered no revelation, no lost sister waiting to be found.
She and Ekko were making their way back to the Firelights' hideout through Zaun's silent catwalks. The air between them was tense. Vi walked with her fists clenched, jaw tight. She had been so certain. She had felt it in her bones that Powder would return to that place. And in a way, she had been right. She had returned. But she hadn't stayed.
The images from the attic replayed in their minds. They had found it… used.
The boxing machine had been the first clue. When Vi saw it, her heart skipped a beat. The scoreboard blinked defiantly, displaying an impossible number: 9999.
"No one can get that score," Vi had said, running her fingers across the glowing digits.
"And look at this," Ekko had pointed out. The thick leather punching bag, which had endured years of Vi's punishment, bore a massive dent in the center, as if struck by an industrial piston. The leather had been stretched to the point of tearing.
Then there was the shooting gallery. Dust on the floor had been swept away by bootprints. Scattered everywhere were dozens of bullet casings from Jinx's gun. But there were also small, twisted bits of metal: crushed nuts, bent bolts, pipe fragments with jagged edges. Improvised projectiles.
"He was here," Ekko had concluded, picking up a flattened nut. "The guy with white hair. They were… playing."
The word hung in the air, strange and unsettling. Playing. The thought made Vi's stomach churn.
They reached the hideout entrance just as one of Ekko's scouts came running up to them, his face tight with urgency.
"Ekko! Vi!" the young Firelight gasped. "We've got news."
"Speak," Ekko said, his focus sharpening immediately.
"It's about the 'Musician' and Jinx," the scout said. "They've been seen. Just a few hours ago. In the Night Market."
Vi and Ekko exchanged a look.
"What were they doing?" Vi asked, stepping forward.
The scout hesitated, as if unsure how to describe the scene. "Causing chaos. The rumors are everywhere. They were going stall to stall, 'shopping'." He made air quotes with his fingers.
"Shopping?" Vi repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief.
"That's not all," the scout went on, swallowing hard. "They weren't alone."
Vi's heart froze. "Cupcake?"
"We didn't see clearly," the scout admitted. "But people say they were dragging a third person with them. A woman. She wore a hood and looked… unwilling. She was tied up."
It was her. No doubt about it. A storm of emotions took hold of Vi: relief that Caitlyn was alive, terror at what Jinx might do to her, and a gnawing conflict toward her sister and her mysterious companion for turning Caitlyn into their hostage.
"They're not hiding. They're acting in broad daylight," Ekko said, his voice low and grim, eyes fixed on the distance.
"Why?"
"I don't know," Ekko admitted. "But if we know where they've been, we can figure out where they're going. Their behavior is erratic, but it's not random." He turned to the scout. "I want everyone gathered. Ask around. Every vendor, every thief, every street kid. I want to know every step they took in that market. Every item they touched. Every word they spoke."
The scout nodded and sprinted off.
Ekko turned to Vi, whose face was a mask of worry and impatience. "This gives us an advantage, Vi. They're getting careless."
"I just want to find them, Ekko," Vi said, her voice losing its edge, almost pleading. "Before she makes a mistake no one can save her from."
Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder, the gesture of an old friend.
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Meanwhile, at The Last Drop
The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the scent of old leather and expensive tobacco. He sat at his desk, performing the ritual that kept him functional. Resting on the dark wood was a type of syringe: an intricate, stylized metal device, designed for the most delicate of tasks.
With a hand that trembled slightly, Silco raised the device close to his face. He braced the circular rim around his mutated eye, supported by four thin metal rods connected to the cylinder that held the Shimmer. He drew in a deep breath, his one good eye closing, and pressed the plunger.
The needle slid into his twisted eye with precision, releasing the Shimmer. There was no pain, only a burning sensation that spread outward, calming the nervous tic that sometimes threatened to seize his face. It was the controlled dose of poison that kept the wound of his past from consuming him entirely.
As the Shimmer did its work, Silco's mind raced, replaying the catalog of disasters that had piled up in recent days.
He thought of the state he had found Sevika in, hanging from the ceiling by her limbs, unconscious and covered in Jinx's childish, furious graffiti. It wasn't his lieutenant's humiliation that troubled him, but Jinx's unmistakable message: a punishment for hiding the truth about Vi.
He thought of his meeting with the Chem-Barons. He had crushed their budding rebellion with ease, a display of power that reaffirmed his grip on Zaun. Outwardly, his control over the city was stronger than ever.
But inside, he felt as if he were holding a fistful of sand.
Vi. The daughter of his enemy, of his brother, had returned from the grave. A ghost now threatening to unravel years of careful work on the psyche of the only person he cared for. He had rebuilt Jinx from the shattered remains of Powder, not as a tool, but so she could survive, thrive in his image. And now the past had come to reclaim her.
And in the middle of it all, there was him. Kaen Vexis. Singed's failed experiment. A variable. A wild card. His presence at Jinx's side was a constant thorn in Silco's side.
But the heaviest weight on his mind, the worry that eclipsed all others, was Jinx. Where was she? She hadn't returned. Hadn't reported in. Ever since she left with that boy, she had vanished. The power of the Hextech gemstone was in the hands of an emotionally unstable girl and her new deranged playmate.
A knock at the door cut through his thoughts.
"Enter," he growled.
One of his subordinates, a burly man with a nose implant, stepped in cautiously.
"Sir," he said, not daring to meet Silco's eye. "We have news. About Jinx."
Silco straightened, his attention fully captured. "Speak."
"She's been seen, sir. Just recently. In the Night Market," the man reported.
The subordinate proceeded to relay the story that was spreading through the Lanes like wildfire.
"And they weren't alone," the man concluded, his voice dropping. "They had someone with them. A tall woman, hooded. Could be the Enforcer who was with Vi."
Silco listened, his face unreadable. The news that Jinx held a Piltover hostage was strategically significant, a powerful bargaining chip. But his first thought was alarm. It was a dangerous escalation. A reckless move that would draw unwanted attention to her.
"Where are they now?" Silco asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"We don't know, sir," the subordinate admitted. "They disappeared after the market. No one's seen them since."
Silco dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. Alone again, in the silence of his office.
So Jinx had the Enforcer. But she hadn't brought her to him. Hadn't sought his advice or protection. She and her new friend were playing their own game.
He rose and walked to the window, staring out at the lights of Zaun. For the first time in a long time, Silco didn't know what Jinx's next move would be. And that, more than any other threat, was what truly unsettled him. Because it meant the bond between father and daughter was beginning to fray.