The consequences of threatening my family need to be addressed. What I have in store for the morons who dared to whisper, much less write a letter, threatening my family, will make them suffer immensely. Thoughts of anguish I have for the one I hate make my stomach queasy. It's the hate, not the waves, that fuels my nausea. The boat is our private tool for scavenging. It's small enough to stealthily glide across the waters. I'm fortunate to have such talented Zaunites. The clown suit I'm wearing is modeled after the Enforcer uniform. It's altered slightly, all black, as I don't want to appear as another dog of a tyrannical government. But damn if it isn't eye-catching. It felt wrong to wear at first, portraying the honesty of Zaun's sovereignty. However, that was the past, there's wealth in Zaun now. My chambers are selling like crazy, almost around the world. Noxus and Piltover are my two best customers, while Demacia is slowly beginning to accept my power.
The captain approached me, gaunt like Singed, with skin dry like leather. Dreads hang from his head, greasy and unkempt. Patchwork uniforms stitched together from across the world, all woven into one suit. He decides not to wear shoes and pays for it. Fungus makes it look like he has claws instead of nails. He smiles, metal teeth replaced his old ones. They are the only appealing things about him. Silver, gold, and bronze decorate his mouth, marking his wealth. Then there are his eyes, those yellow eyes. It looks as if he drinks pure alcohol instead of anything else.
"Whatcha going in there for?" He tilts his head towards Stillwater.
I look behind him at the controls. His undead first mate directs the ship without eyes. "Gonna even the score." I promised flatly as I avoided meeting his eyes.
He smiles, revealing his gleaming metal teeth. "Old Henory has your sin and silence." I look at his. "Dead men tell no tales."
The boat arrives at the docks. The boat glides in with experienced precision. Henory says nothing more as I step off the dock and make my way towards the prison. The plan is well crafted. I pressed Cassandrea to give me the authority to assess the prison for...generous donations. It is rare for the council to sentence anyone to death. Instead, they send them to me. Silco helped in that effort, he alone has them all on edge. The medical research Singed provides is groundbreaking. His talent for building and breaking down biological substances provided us with many cures and prosthetics. It's a cover, however. Even though Orianna recovered from her illness, it hasn't done much to curb Singed's personal curiosity of genetics and chemistry. I'll always need to keep tabs on him. But for now...I have a certain someone that needs sorting out. The prison guards hesitated upon seeing me. One look at the council seal I wear as a badge on my uniform, and they quickly stood aside and parted the gate. Deep locks and gears rotated behind the fortified metal gate. It's a lock within a series of locks. If I ever end up getting imprisoned here, there is no physical way through this door, not without inhuman means. Finally, the gate parts open, and I proceed forward. My legs carry the will of my intentions, there's no turning back. I now stand before the only person capable of turning me away. My head barely reaches over the desk, which is a great start to asserting my authority. Regardless, I stand poised and ready to use whatever means I have to see my personal mission carried out.
"I'm here to see Marcus." I demanded in the most authoritative voice I could muster.
The Warden was in the middle of dabbing his sweaty face with a cloth while reading a newspaper. "Huh?" He lowers the paper and looks down, then from side to side.
I sighed while maintaining a strictly business visage. "Down here."
The warden's attention shoots forward, and he leans over to finally see me. "What in the—?" His face contorts into irritation until recognition takes hold. "Oohhh...Owen, right?" He stands up and grabs his iron staff. "I got your letter a week ago." He steps around the desk, keys clanging together, his staff slamming into the floor along with his steps. "I've always wondered...." The base of the staff slams beside him, the shockwave of the impact tearing through me and echoing down the silent halls. "...when you wind up in here." He towers over me with not much effort on his part. He's the biggest man I've ever seen.
Meeting his slightly disinterested eyes, I remain as resolute as ever. "Depends if the council likes me or not." I shrug. "You know how it is."
An amused chuckle shakes his seemingly gluttonous form. "Yeah, that I do." He wipes away at his neck with his rag. "Marcus, is it?"
I nod. "The one and only." I replied in a dry and plain manner.
For some reason, that simple reply got a chuckle out of him. "There are a few Marcus's in Piltover actually, but who's counting?" he nods behind me. "That way," he directed as I was about to follow him down the other path.
Turning around, I began walking, the Warden keeping up with ease. The slams of his staff sound and feel deliberate, and as we pass the cells, I can see why. Each cell I passed was filled with the same face, the same posture, and hopelessness. Their bruised, scarred, and mangled bodies...either the Warden did this, or the other inmates did.
"Had to set all of them straight the moment they got here." His voice begins to sound and feel like a vile mixture of corrosive acid down my back. "Some were harder to learn than most." He stopped in front of a particular inmate's cell, the slam of the staff startled the poor guy. He clawed at the floor to get away from the Warden, pressing as hard as he could against the corner of the cell. The shadows of the confined cell did little to protect him from the warden's sadistic grin. "This one here?" He tilts the rod at the inmate, who flinches at the sight of it. "He's a model inmate, a good boy." He moves on, slamming the rod against the metal floor, convincing me to hurry ahead.
I check every cell, witnessing all the horrors. The desperation in their eyes, the broken spirits, and the hopeless rage burn within them all. They're mostly Zaunites, I can tell. Piltover does everything they can to protect their own. A Piltie wouldn't be caught dead here, if they could help it. They're useful, they're all still useful, they all have something to give in this world, to me.
The Warden stops in place with a slam of his staff. "This is it, inmate 5112."
Walking towards the bars, there he is. The coward against the wall with his head hung. It's difficult to see him fully, but I trust the Warden to remember who's who in here. "That's all I need, thank you." I said with the coldest voice I heard myself speak. It's fitting, as the previous sights ceased having an impact on my psyche. I'm completely focused on the one person dumb enough to offend me.
The Warden read what's all too clear to him. He chuckled. "I'll be back in five." He then walks off, the sounds of his iron staff echo off the wall with each step.
I stare at Marcus, who lifts his head and then is violently startled at the sight of me. "What are you doing here?" he asks with a voice layered with more fear than anger.
I pulled my black gloves out and slipped them on, the formula to manipulate metal is etched in the back of them. "I'm here to get even." I grab the metal bars, the formula instantly begins to find the solution to my problem.
Marcus looks up at me with broken eyes. His lips are swollen, split, and possibly infected. The skin around his eyes is bleached white. The eyes themselves are bloodshot, dry, and hollow. Altogether, he already looks broken, but that won't stop me from getting my pound of flesh. "Even for what? The bridge?" He brought his attention to me as I parted the metal bars. "...you're a damn mage."
The metal coats my arms in its protective element, pushing all the impurities to my knuckles. I glare at the once proud and smug sheriff, with venom in my heart. "Get up, Marcus."
His eyes are as wide as apples as he struggles to grasp what he just saw. "This...you..." He watches me clench my fists, the sounds of the metal morphing along with my movements rattle in my ears. The vibrations send pulses through me to my brain. Keeping me aware of the focus needed to maintain the solution. "This is about the girl, right?" He raised his hand up, as if it could stop me. "About Pow—"
I stepped into my power jab, breaking through his hand, causing it to fold backwards. Marcus's jaw dropped in shock, then pulled back in disbelief. What irritates me is his delayed response to pain. Is this hurting him? Why isn't he screaming in pain? I know he's in fear, I can tell that much by the way he's pressing his back against the wall, like a cornered rat. "Speak her name again, and I'll just skip to the good parts."
Realization calms him. "You're here to kill me? You're going to kill me?" His voice rises by the word.
This is his trick. Getting the entire wing to make noise, but I don't care at this point, this is for Powder. "Yeah, I'm—"
Marcus launched forward, I ducked under and drove an uppercut to his ribs, but the fact that he's an adult made fighting him difficult. The punch didn't convince me that I did any real damage. His knee caught my head, sending me to the floor with him. He grabbed my head from the side and slammed it against the floor. The cell spun as I adjusted to the pain. I grabbed his hand and tore at the skin, the metal making it easy to separate the flesh from the back of his hand. He growls in pain and picks me up. I grabbed his forearms and dug my fingers in and pulled apart with as much force as I could gather. Marcus's forearm began to give way, I felt a tear. The side of my head hit the wall, and I went falling, landing face down on the cold floor. This is feeling a bit too familiar. Direct head trauma isn't healthy at all, that's why I won't allow Sevika to do it to me. He's now on his back, writhing in agony. The prisoners don't make much noise, mostly being too broken to be bothered, but this time was different. It took them a while, but our tussling woke them up some, and they started cheering, for whom I hope was me. Marcus recovered faster than I expected, stomping on my back. Not wanting to have more rib problems, I guarded against his next stomp with my forearms. Thankfully, the metal is perfect for blocking. Marcus grunted in anger as his mangled forearm bled rapidly as he tried to finish me off. His foot got caught in my hands. His eyes widen, he must know what I'm about to do. This foot crumbled with a sick series of pops and cracks. The prisoner across from us is giving everyone a vivid description of what's happening.
Marcus falls backwards, screaming in pain and disbelief. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening." He watches me stand to my feet, approaching him with one goal in mind: tearing him apart.
He kicks his foot out, trying to keep me away. The other leg was used as well, his mangled foot dangling in the air. His last remaining foot got caught in my hands, and I crushed it vertically. He howled in agony as bones and muscle clattered onto the floor. In shock, Marcus began to kick and flail into the corner. Backing away, I watched Marcus huddle into the most defensive position he could manage. His heart pounds in fear, adrenaline, and pain. It's a beautiful sight, justice in its rawest form. If only Powder were here to see me dismantle the piece of trash that placed a hit on her. Oh well, you can't have it all. Marcus's movements begin to slow as exhaustion takes over. Blood steadily leaks from his destroyed limbs. I chose to crush instead of cutting him to avoid damage to his veins, but I was sloppy. It only took a few years away from killing that turned me soft and dulled my instincts. If I'm to protect Zaun, I can't afford to be soft on scum like him.
Marcus licks his dry lips as he trembles in the corner. "I'm...I'm sorry..." he wheezed with a dry mouth.
His apology almost made me hesitate, almost. I approach him with fatal intentions. "Too late to apologize now." I informed him as I delivered devastating punches to his shoulders, I didn't stop until the walls cracked behind him. The pain was too severe for him to handle. His body began to convulse and arch. The eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell limp. Luckily for me, I have experience in reviving people, if only for a short time. The lightning formula is easier to visualize than ever. I push my finger into his chest, over his heart, and shock the clothes off of him, literally. It was unreal. It took a while to realize what I was doing, and I backed away to pat the flames from my sleeves. The prisoner screamed in horror, along with the other prisoners, wanting to know what the hell the smell was. In a panic, I began kicking Marcus, eager to put the flames out and to relish in the chaos that I unleashed. The flames felt different. They didn't hurt me much, they definitely burned my sleeve, and as for Marcus? He's too busy trying to scream over the other prisoners shouting. The kicks and stomps are aimed mostly at the flames, which are conveniently proven to be rather stubborn in my efforts to fight them. It's one of a few things I appreciate about arcane elements, they obey the users' desires, for the most part. Ignoring the flames, I grab Marcus by the skin of his flesh and toss him to the ground. It was an ugly display, performance-wise. Him being significantly taller and heavier than me made it an exhausting experience. All I managed to do was to get him on his side while I went down with him. I managed to maneuver into a half guard, just in case he tried anything. But as I recovered and rolled him to his back, I saw that I had nothing to worry about.
He lies limp on his back. His chest rising and falling with effort as he fights for his life. "She'll destroy everything!" he wheezes, his voice unrecognizable, as well as the rest of him. His body is badly burned, most of his clothes is ash, revealing second- to third-degree burns. And still, it isn't enough. "I tried...to save us all...."
I stood over him and mounted his chest. "By doing so, you pissed me off." That's when I began throwing my fists on his head, letting every swing be filled with anger beyond my control. It didn't matter if he had the same dream. His efforts made not a ripple in the sea of eternity. His death...well...no one will miss him. As his head gave way, I thought on it a bit. Maybe I will miss him. I'll miss pulling my fist from his cranium. I'll definitely miss hammering away at his chest, coating my entire body in blood, because of my uncontrollable hatred of this piece of human garbage. The slams of the iron staff rang through the air, off the walls, and into my mind. I hardly heard it at first, the prisoners and my assaults on Marcus occupy my full attention. Then, I heard it more consistently, each slam of the staff silenced the shouting prisoners. It was until the Warden and I were making the only noise in the entire prison. Before he reached my cell, there was a pause, as if it took him this long to notice the pool of blood that I crushed from his body. Then, he continues walking until his boots make an audible damp sound as he splashes through the blood and stops right outside the cell.
He witnessed me slamming my metal-coated fists, crushing Marcus's eviscerated body. "Five minutes are up," he grumbles as he eyes the cell bars.
One last slam on the mass of flesh and bones of Marcus, and I push myself to my feet. "Right." I acknowledged as I peered down at my handiwork. I wanted more time to hear him suffer, but Marcus wasn't that kind of guy. As much hatred as I had for the person, I have to admit, he refused to beg for mercy. I turned to the Warden, his once expression of cold indifference was now one of stern readiness. I know that look, he recognized someone who he could crush with his bare hands, but the risk is far too great. He kept his eyes on me as I walked out of the cell. Turning to the cell bars again, I grabbed the bars and worked the solution backwards. The metal leaves my body and returns to the bars. Then melt and mend together, brand new, without the filth of grime and grease.
He looks at him with a glint of surprise in his eyes. "Huh, that's useful. Things break around here all the time. I could use that talent around here," he suggests as he follows me back to his desk.
My clothes made horrible sloshing sounds, as if I were drenched with water, but it's different with blood. "Write a letter of all that you need. Maybe I can buy the prison outright." That wouldn't be such a bad idea. Being the one who controls who gets a free pass or not is a useful tool to have.
He grunts as his staff serves its purpose, reestablishing control. "It's a deal. Besides, these inmates can get out of hand." We stop at his desk. "They usually don't get this violent."
I watch him reclaim his position on his seat. "I'll get someone to clean that mess up." With that, he returns to his paper, and I make my way towards the gate.
The guards shuddered at my silent approach, choosing not to ask questions as to what happened. Henory and his first mate didn't bother me either, that was our agreement. When we docked back in Zaun, I hurried towards the factory. My secret entrance was made by me alone. Well, mostly, it was already here as a forgotten ventilation system. There were a lot of...independent waste management techniques that needed to be implemented. Thankfully, I had the sense to get to it while I was all skin and bones. A spare tube was a fantastic idea to install in my office. I always knew how dirty a position like this could get. Battling Silco's crew back then...I didn't make it easy on him. As I dried and dressed myself in spare clothing, there was something that has always bugged me. Silco has been rather patient. He's up to something. A snake like his is never short on schemes. A brisk walk through the lanes told as much. The night watch, his division of Zaun's army, told as much. They have a charming upgrade to their standard outfit: a single glowing prosthetic eye. It looks as if it were a personal choice to choose which eye to replace, I hope it was worth it. Knowing Silco, it's not for cosmetic purposes. There is always some advantage Silco is looking for. A significant gain, even if it comes at the cost of losing something. And just as I expected, Silco is in his usual spot, looking over papers, sipping a drink.
"Quite the busy night," he began to muse as he directed me to sit across from him with a tilt of his head.
He didn't have to invite me, I was going to sit there anyways. "Busy for the both of us." I said as I slid into the booth, "Huh...feeling a bit cramped."
Setting down the papers, he directed his full attention to me. "The optics are a personal touch on my part. It helps my night watch to see all that walks and whispers in shadows." His piercing gaze told me that he knows.
I drum on the table with my thumbs. "Before you even ask, yes, I did it. And no, there was no other way. Would have done it all over again, slower if it were possible." I admitted that I will never feel sorry for what I did. Thankfully, Silco isn't the type of person who disapproves of such gestures.
He nods with a sly grin. "Your message to the council was delivered."
That stopped me. "What? What message?"
He slowly raised his brow. "You couldn't possibly think that the council hasn't considered your involvement in Marcus's death? Surely, you must have considered the possibility."
I sighed deeply. "See, that's what I get for being optimistic."
Silco let out a gentle chuckle, which is rare for me to hear. "That optimism is what drew us all together." He pulls out a thick cigar and looks over it with scrutiny. "And it's that optimism that will hold all of Zaun together. Your actions tonight proved that."
I shook my head in disbelief. "How could you have known anything?" My eyes bore into him, trying to uncover any hints of deceit, but his demeanor is well trained and natural.
He pulls out a cutter and snips the end of the cigar. "I have an eye over Zaun." He then pulled out a lighter and lit the end of it and inhaled a few puffs. "You should know all about that by now." The smoke leaks out of his mouth with every word he speaks. At least he has the common courtesy to avoid completely blowing in my face.
My eyes stung regardless, but I didn't flinch. "The council suspects but doesn't know for sure. What now?" I ask as I hold my position at the table.
Silco dabbed his ashes in a holder next to him. "Allow me and Sevika to cover for you, just as efficiently as the rest of the council cover for each other's crimes." He looks at me with eyes of understanding. Maybe he isn't as bad as I thought he was. Can't be sure until he strikes, as snakes often do.
With no other choice, I nod. "Okay. Anything else I need to know about?"
He shook his head. "Nothing that can't be read from the papers on your desk. Just be ready for another retaliation from the council. The next time won't be as grand. It will wear the face of an ally," he prophesized.
The face of Caitlyn comes to mind. "Right...goodnight." Removing myself from the booth was surprisingly difficult. I wanted to tell him that I suspect Caitlyn, but I'm sure he already knew that. That eye of his is on my back, I can feel it. Those steps couldn't meet my feet any faster. It was difficult to remain completely quiet, as I'm trembling. Scenarios of my actions play out in my head. What I did was a sloppy gamble on my part. I was hoping for everyone to be unaware of my actions. But that was just blind optimism and wishful thinking. At the very worst, in my mind, the Warden would keep his mouth shut. Guess the council knows of his dark nature and refused to trust his word completely. What's done is done. Whatever happens now, I won't face it alone. As I turn the corner, Powder sits alone on my bed, against the wall. She's dozing off, fighting her natural sleep schedule. I had no chance as I approached to surprise her, those eyes flashed open. She launched forward, grabbing me in a chest-crushing embrace. Thankfully, I'm strong enough not to go crashing to the ground.
My arms wrap around her, trying to match her intense eagerness. I forced it anyways, hugging her just as hard. Her giggles let me know that we are now playing a game. She returns the hug with an increase of force in her bear hug. Since she's only a girl, and I'm a big boy, I let her know how badly she's going to lose this game. It only took a bit more pressure on my part for her to finally tap my back.
Releasing her, she gasped for air, resting her hand on my shoulder. "Finally getting stronger," she complimented as her grip tested the existence of muscle on my shoulders.
I poke her side, which nearly broke my finger. What is up with these girls' genetics? "Want to find out how strong?" I baited while trying to disguise my pain with a cocky grin.
She pulls back and gives a smile of relief. Now you want to fight me? For real?" She looks at me with a glimmering hope in her eyes.
At this moment, after what I've done, fighting her doesn't seem all that intimidating. "Why not? I don't care if space tears itself apart again. It'll have to wait in line to get a crack at me." I boast with the familiar arrogance coming back to where it should have been all along...in my head.
Powder pats my chest as she grabs my hand. "As if all of space wants only you. For all you know, it could want my autograph." She leads me up the stairs with her new found assertiveness.
We walk by Silco, who gave no notice of our existence. Knowing him, he'll send someone to watch over us, just in case. We warmed up by jogging to our spot. The jog mostly turned into a sprint, as Powder couldn't wait to get her ass whooped. She stretches her legs, completely touching the ground with her wrapped hands. "I'm gonna whoop your ass so bad, I'm gonna be the commander of Zaun," she taunts as I continue stretching my arms and back. "I can see it now, you saluting me every morning," she mocks a salute. "YES MA'AM!" COMMANDER POWDER, MA'AM!" She then cackles at her own joke.
Admittedly, it lightened my mood. I haven't been hazed in a long time. "Celebrating already? That's dangerous." I clap my hands together, pushing them as close together as possible.
Powder does the same, mimicking me. "I am, because I won't be holding back." She smiles her smile.
Her face has matured enough to almost resemble her possible future self. All she needs to do is not eat more than a slice of bread a day, avoid the sun, get stupid cloud tattoos, and pump her blood full of Shimmer, and there she is, Jinx in the flesh. She is already a bit taller than me. Girls maturing faster than boys is just plain unfair. Nature delt humanity such a lopsided middle finger. However, there's no sense in complaining. I still have raw power and tenacity on my side. The only disadvantage I have is that I hardly know what her moves are. We circle each other, scanning one another's movements. Vi has been teaching her, I know she has. Sevika's been teaching her things as well. I've seen Powder kick down scrap at the junkyard when we went scavenging together. She's been training for this moment. The grappling and the mentorship behind my back, it's all been building up to this moment. A grin crept on my face. Sly little minx. I stopped walking and faced Powder, who continued to circle me.
I take up a fighting stance, now more fluid and easily adjustable to any situation. "No holding back." I abandoned my cocky grin to focus on defeating Powder with all I've got.
Powder's mouth smiled with a hunger for destruction, while her eyes sharpened. Her focus was equal to an avian predator, zeroing in on its prey. She began to bounce on her toes, appearing as a ghost gliding on the ground. It's honestly hypnotic, the graceful switching of her feet, makes me envious of her time with Vi. She sensed my lack of concentration and thrust her sidekick out. Like a chump, I overreacted, surrendering my position. She gracefully threw a spinning kick to my head. I overcommitted to my evasion, so I settled for ducking her kick. I'm too far away for a move to take her down. She recovered fluidly, proving me right. With those moves, she looks like an expert. There's no way she could learn that much in such a short amount of time. Even in two years, a fighter needs constant training and coaching to look that good. The only way she could have gotten that good is if she's being instructed by that future Jinx. Future Owen said he has a way to talk to me. Maybe Jinx has already found a way to communicate with Powder. If that's the case, Owen better hurry his metal ass up. Powder charges again, sweeping at my leg with a series of leg kicks. I did my best to check the kicks she committed to and to avoid the kicks that were catching me off guard. She can switch her legs quite well, fluidly and seamlessly. I can see myself asking her for lessons after this. But I have to end it first. Biting the bullet, I surprised her by taking the stabbing kick to the outside of my thigh to take her down by the leg. My legs screamed in pain as I cupped Powder's head as she crashed to the ground.
"STOP PROTECTING ME!" she bellows as she elbows me in the back of my shoulder.
That was all the opportunity I needed to seize her arm in an armbar. But she has tricks of her own, as she twists out of my grip and somehow kicks away from me. The pressure pressed off my legs. I saw her roll across the ground like a cat and advance with feline grace. She descended on me, raining down punches, avoiding my counters, and rising to kick at my body. Dust flew everywhere, and she used this to her advantage. I was suffocating in the dust. My eyes stung as I tried to scramble away from her. But she was persistent, even managing to kick me off my feet twice in a row. During my descent downward, her foot caught the side of my face, making the world spin. I collapse on my back, Powder plants her foot onto my chest. That's the opportunity I needed. I grabbed her foot and swung my foot, kicking her leg, causing her to crash to the ground. Just as I was going to jump on her, she stomped me in my face, pushing me back to the ground. We recovered at the same time, now looking desperate, warmed up, and far from quitting. Her hair is messy, covered in dirt, hell, she's mostly covered in dirt. My nose and chin sting, but no blood yet. If I keep pulling punches, letting her off easy, she'll never trust me. She'll never get the impression that I fully respect her. We're young, we don't fully understand love yet, but respect? That's universal...for some people at any rate. We explode forward, each throwing a punch, we both land on our marks. My cheek ignited in pain, my fist dug in her eye. The straight cross caused her to buckle, making her jab lose its bite. I landed first, making the exchange weigh in my favor. She followed up with a straight cross of her own. I side-stepped, pushed off my back foot, twisted my body, and drove an uppercut to her stomach. She immediately crumbled to the ground, in the fetal position, nursing the pain. That was unreal. My head is still swimming from her kick. Looking at my left fist, I can't get over how it felt like punching a sandbag. Powder rocks from side to side, forcing her body to obey her will to get up.
"It's over, we're done." I huffed with the world, feeling like I never left the boat.
Powder looks up at me with eyes that I never want to see directed at me, hate. With an arm clutched over her stomach, she uses her other arm to push herself off the ground. "No." She stumbled towards me, swinging at the position I was before. "No! Fight me!" She hesitates bringing her other arm from her body, but she manages. With a fierce battle cry, she hides behind her guard and advances forward. I sighed, she abandoned her unique style for Vi's style. She was doing so well too. She began punching, throwing with perfect form, but I know this dance, I know how it ends. I slip all of her punches with ease, causing her to grow frustrated. So many flaws without Vi's raw aggression. I don't want to hit Powder's face, rattling her brilliant brain would be unforgivable. With an overcommitted punch, I stepped into the zone, grabbed her by the head, and drove my rear knee into her liver. Powder let out a pained cry and fell to the ground. Rocking from side to side, she returns to the fetal position, holding back a sob.
I knelt beside her, rubbing her back. "We're done, no arguing." I commanded.
She calmed down slightly, her face still contorted in pain, only managing to nod slightly at my demands.
Satisfied, I rolled her into my arms. "Okay, up you go." Lifting her into my arms with a grunt, we made our way down the hill and into Zaun.
Powder whimpered and sniffed, but she calmed down after a while. She refused to look at me, only stealing glances when she thought I wasn't looking. A persistent pout sits on her face, seeming not in the mood to let it go.
It's about time I break the ice. "Guess it's still Commander Owen." I boasted, "Her face is still the same." "But no saluting, don't want your stick arms to shatter your body." Her face relaxes some. "I'm going to have to hand-feed you my food from now on." I start lifting her like a barbell. "You're getting tiny, like you used to be."
Powder finally snapped out of it and smirked as she slapped my chest. "Stop it." Then she turns away from me.
I grin. "About time, grumpy." Then I stop. "Can you stand?"
She looks at me again. "Yeah, set me down."
I did as she said. She nursed her side while looking at me. "You finally did it."
I lift my hand to massage the wound, meeting her hand. "All because you stopped being you." I admitted.
That got Powder to stop, allowing me to massage her side. Pain makes Powder wince. "You mean?" She thinks for a moment. "Oh...yeah…" she remembers with her slumped shoulders.
The night air around us is still. The bugs hummed and hissed as we stood next to a random house. "Just be yourself, and I promise you, you'll whip my ass."
Powder searched my eyes for deceit. "Really?"
I nod, grab her hand, and lead her towards the hospital. "Your moves were too much to handle. Then you got frustrated and began to fight like Vi, that's where you lost." I explained.
She internally kicked herself when she realized her error. "Okay...fine. I want a rematch in a month."
I sighed as we stood next to the hospital. "Fine, guess I have to break your leg then." I casually delivered as I lowered my hand to her leg.
Her eyes shot wide as she grabbed my wrist and slammed it against the wall. "WHAT!" she hissed so hard, saliva trickled down her lip.
I snickered and kissed her lip. Powder recoiled in shock. "You should know me better than that, Pow." I pat her arm that's still holding me. "Come on."
She squinted her eyes and released my wrist. "You are starting a dangerous game, Owen," she warns me as a smile forms on her face.
My hands move to cup her face. "My daily promise." I lean in slowly, Powder turns her head, blushing as she does so. I land a slow kiss on her flushed cheek.
She steps into me, getting me into another body lock hug. "You just saved your life."