Powder had been abandoned by Vi once, and the trauma was a living thing, clawing at her from the inside. She clung to Chen's name like a mantra, her voice a fragile thread in the dark.
Chen gritted his teeth, the copper tang of blood still heavy on his tongue. He didn't walk away. He didn't scream. He stepped toward her and scooped her up, just as he had at the cannery. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go home."
Powder buried her face in the crook of his neck, her grip so tight it was nearly bruising. Chen forced his mind to stay clear. He was the strategist; if he lost his cool now, they were both dead. He avoided the main thoroughfares, weaving through the jagged, less-traveled arteries of the Sump. A boy covered in blood carrying a blue-haired girl was a walking death sentence in Silco's Zaun.
After a while, the shaking in Powder's limbs subsided. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his skin, her voice thick with guilt.
Chen didn't blame her. He stroked the back of her head, his hand steady. "You did the right thing. You saved me."
Back on Earth, Chen had lived in the safest country in the world. His humanitarian instincts had screamed "Don't!" when she pulled the trigger. He'd been raised to believe in laws, in trials, in the sanctity of life. But Zaun didn't have a Supreme Court; it had a food chain. Those thugs would have victimized Powder and left Chen for the crows. In this hellhole, the only law was the one you enforced with lead or steel.
"Those scumbags deserved it," Chen said firmly.
A real smile—not the manic, jagged grin of Jinx, but a soft, genuine one—spread across Powder's face. She lifted her head, her blue eyes searching his. "So... I helped?"
"Yes. You were the MVP."
Powder beamed and pressed her forehead against his again in that affectionate, head-butting way of hers.
"Stop it," Chen laughed, stumbling slightly. "I can't see the road."
"Hehe."
Clunk. Chen tripped over a loose paving stone, and they both tumbled into a heap of rusted gears and grime. They sat up, looked at their soot-stained faces, and burst into simultaneous, exhausted laughter.
The Evidence
Hours later, the Black Water Gang finally realized three of their "tax collectors" hadn't checked in. They found the bodies in the southern junkyard. While cleaning up the mess, a grunt found a discarded pistol. It was a crude but brilliant piece of engineering, adorned with glowing, hand-painted patterns and erratic doodles.
Silco sat in his office at The Last Drop, the air thick with the smell of cigars and expensive chemicals. He hadn't found the "mage" or the girl in a month. He picked up a syringe, his steady hand injecting the Shimmer directly into his clouded, orange eye.
"Lord Silco," a gang member stammered, entering the office. "We were hit in the south. Three men dead. All headshots."
Silco exhaled a plume of smoke. "It seems some people still haven't learned who owns this city."
The grunt held out the pistol. Silco's gaze sharpened. He traced the neon patterns on the barrel with a slender finger. He remembered a room—a crawlspace behind the bar where Vander's "stray's" used to hide. It was covered in drawings just like these.
Silco stood up, a slow, predatory smile creeping across his scarred face. "I know that handiwork. It's Vander's youngest. The one the magician snatched away. Powder..."
His eyes turned fierce. "I thought you'd vanished into the gray, little girl. But you just left me a calling card."
The Calm Before the Storm
Back at the shop, Halde's face went pale when he saw the blood. He slammed the 'Closed' sign against the glass and bolted the door.
"What in the name of the Great City did you do?" Halde hissed.
"Self-defense," Chen shrugged. "Killed a few of Silco's pets."
Halde paced the floor, rubbing his temples. "This is Zaun! You don't just 'kill' Silco's men and walk away! Why do you keep poking the beast, Chen?"
Powder raised a small, defiant hand. "I killed them! We're sworn enemies with Silco anyway!"
Chen saw the glint in her eyes—the "relapse" was hovering just beneath the surface. He quickly gave her a gentle nudge toward the back. "Go take a bath, Powder. You're covered in soot."
"Oh. Okay." She listened, her focus shifting instantly as she skipped toward the washroom.
Once she was gone, Halde turned on Chen. "You said you'd protect her! Look at her, she's a ticking time bomb!"
"They started it, Halde. They were going to hurt her." Chen recounted the fight, from the kiting to the headshots.
Halde sighed, looking defeated. "She made a gun? From scrap?"
"She's a genius, Halde. She builds things Jayce hasn't even dreamed of."
Chen knew the future. He knew about Pow-Pow, the three-barreled Gatling gun, and Fishbones, the shark-mouthed rocket launcher. A simple pistol was child's play for her.
"Stay inside," Halde warned. "No junkyards. No scavenging. We lay low until the heat dies down."
A while later, Powder emerged from the bath, her hair damp and hanging loose. Without her signature braids, she looked almost unrecognizable—vulnerable and soft. She began rubbing her head with a towel, waving at Chen. "Your turn, Chen. You smell like a copper mine."
After Chen finished his own shower, he walked out to find Powder struggling with a comb. Without Vi there to do it, her twin braids were a messy, tangled disaster.
"Let me help," Chen said, sitting behind her.
Powder looked up, her eyes full of a quiet, desperate anticipation. She handed him the comb with both hands. Chen worked slowly, his movements gentle as he untangled the blue locks. He felt a rare sense of peace, hoping against hope that he could keep this girl—this version of her—alive. He didn't want her to become the "unforgivable madwoman" who would one day fire a rocket at the Piltover Council.
Suddenly, a violent thud shook the front door.
"OPEN UP! OPEN UP!"
Halde's voice trembled from the front room. "We're closed for the night."
CRACK.
The door was kicked off its hinges. "We're with Silco! You don't close on us!"
A gruff voice echoed through the shop, sending a chill down Chen's spine. "We're looking for two strays. A girl with blue hair and a black-haired boy. Don't make us start breaking things, old man."