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The first time he saw her was after the uprising.
He had heard Vander and Benzo talking about it for months, how the undercity was fed up with topside decadence while the undercity was exploited and belittled. Vander had been urging others to take a stand for freedom, respect, and a better future for the trenchers. Sneaking around after Benzo put him to bed, Ekko had heard murmurings about the nation of Zaun. The two men discussed it like a hidden treasure-- and the hunt was scheduled soon. When Ekko saw the large multitude gathered outside Benzo’s shop, he wanted to come too. Benzo told him that it was too dangerous, but Ekko had already pulled some jobs in Piltover already. How bad could it be?
“I need you to hold down the fort while I’m gone, okay little man?” Benzo had asked him, “just for a little while.”
He watched the rowdy crowd leave around midday in high spirits. When Ekko at last heard the group return, he noticed something was off immediately. His smile, eagerly waiting for the heroes to return back home, faded slowly as he took note of the bruises and wounds of those that returned- and how few of them did. He saw Benzo, clothes singed and nursing a black eye, and Vander returning with two girls in tow: a girl with bright pink hair a few years older than him, silently sobbing and face covered with soot holding the hand of a girl his age with blue hair. In the clutches of the latter was a small stuffed monkey, its smile out of place with the sombre atmosphere suffusing through the undercity’s streets. Ekko holds his gaze at the pair a bit longer, their colourful hair juxtaposing the bleakness of the undercity, a bit like his own strikingly white hair.
“It was a slaughter,” Benzo later told Ekko, sighing into his drink, “we didn’t stand a chance.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Ekko wondered. Will the enforcers come down and take people away? What will happen to the shop? Will Benzo still let him stay and work here?
“I don’t know, but Vander is guessing that topside’s going to be up in arms. My heart goes out to those kids now, all alone without their parents.”
Like him, Ekko thought.
“God, we lost so many.” Benzo takes another sip of his drink. “I bet Vander must be feeling horrible, guilty enough to take those two kids with him back to The Last Drop. What’s he thinking, that he’s going to replace their dad that died on that bridge? It’s his fault, but no one thought that it would end up like this.”
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The undercity may have lost much but they always had each other, as Ekko understood. Or, to survive down here, you had to have someone; no one makes it alone. Ekko’s family, a ragtag pair of trying yet clearly learning-the-ropes-on-the-fly shop owners and the kids they foster, was small but close, tighter-knit than anything he thought he would ever have. Yes, he was closer to Benzo than Vander, but Vander housed four kids while Benzo just had Ekko. Ekko liked the four though, even if Mylo was a bit too obnoxious and loud sometimes (okay at a lot of times), Vi seemed to always bring trouble and a beating (whether to others or themselves was hard to judge), Claggor didn’t talk much and hard to joke around with, and Powder was… well he didn’t know if anything about Powder he disliked. They always had his back, helping him with work and orders at Benzo’s, planning jobs that required more manpower and finesse, and hosing each other off after coming back from the junkyard covered in grease.
When Benzo told him to get lost or to “spend more time with other kids instead of tinkering around in my shop,” Ekko spent his time around those four. He spent more time with Powder than the rest of the group, mostly because they were around the same age and Mylo didn’t want “some kids to slow them down” (nevermind that Ekko was shifting through tunnels and pipes long before he met them) when Vi, Mylo, and Claggor would go on more challenging heists. Despite her initial shyness and reservations, Powder was fun to be around. They both liked building things, and even though Ekko’s contraptions were usually successful, he never teased Powder about her failures (nor did he comment about her choice of names; really, Mouser and Whiskers?). She was also really nice to him, sharing sandwiches Vi and Vander prepared for her and showing him cool areas that Vi and she discovered (he knew of all these places before but still gave some ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ to not bring her down).
And yeah, even though he would sometimes get out of Benzo’s hair a tad bit too eagerly to play games with Powder and to flip off and run away from enforcers together, no harm no foul, right? He really liked what he had going on with Powder, so it was natural to spend time with her. He hoped that she likes playing games and spending time with him too. She does, he affirms to himself while musing back to the laughter he would elicit from the blue-haired girl. They even had a game that only the two of them played. Ekko would charge toward Powder with a makeshift sword/staff/rod/anything that could be wielded while Powder tried to hit Ekko with rubber balls fired from her toy pistol. “Chargers and Gunners,” they called the game. Powder, to her credit, was an amazing shot. Ekko had never been able to reach her despite timing her firing patterns. Those losses were a bit of a sore topic for him, his competitive fire shining through a normally easygoing and impervious exterior. Powder loved winning though, and Ekko would often smile after losing yet another round to her. He would do anything to see her laugh and be happy.
Sometimes, he wondered if the others knew how he felt about her, noticed his ears turned red whenever Vi teased him about being Powder’s favourite or his fists bunch up when Mylo calls Powder slow, a mess-up, a jinx. He recognized the way Vander smirks whenever he and Benzo share a look at Powder and him tinkering away at The Last Drop, the way he tips his pipe toward the young mechanic in an all-too-knowing-fatherly type of way. Heck, at times he thinks even Benzo (a loving parent and landlord but awfully obtuse and oblivious man) is on to him.
Most importantly, Ekko thinks that Powder has no idea that she brightens up his day with her smile, motivates him to search extra long in topside for junk that she would be impressed by, makes him feel like the richest Counsellor in Piltover when she marvels at the coin he “borrowed” or the brightest prospect in the Academy when she admires the contraptions he designs. He doesn’t know if he wants her to know. He wonders if she thinks about him.
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Ekko unlocks the basement door and stands, shocked. Across the room from him he sees Vi, the tough older sister he always looked up to. But now, he’s too scared to make eye contact, unwilling to let her see the tears threatening to fall. She crosses the room in several dragged steps, and he feels himself crumbling down as soon as her arms wrap around his too-little frame.
“I saw everything,” he sobbed into her chest, “Be- Benzo. They…”
“What about Vander.”
“They took him.”
“Where?” Vi asks. His eyes open wide at the resolution he hears in her voice, another stream of tears falling down his cheek. He closes his eyes again and for a moment, Ekko thinks about lying to her, keeping her safe. But the broken, bloodied form of Benzo flashes through his mind, followed by the groans of Vander as he was dragged away. Vander, his other parent. Unconscious yes, but still alive.
“The old cannery next to the docks.”
“Thanks, Ekko,” she gives him one last squeeze as she begins to extract herself from their embrace, “stay low for a while. Enforcers are probably going to be coming down here in droves.”
“Vi,” he whispers, pleading, “please be careful. I- I can’t lose you too. You guys are all I have left.”
The pink brawler looks back at him one last time as she ascends the basement steps. He wishes that he had engrained this moment in his head, frozen this snapshot in time. “I’ll get Vander out quickly,” she affirms with only the determination a child could make to a parent, “and we will be back before you know it, little man.”
“I promise.”
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He had not been lying- she did look good for a dead girl. Ekko watched Vi’s eyes sweep the intricate mural, grey irises longing for the sun-kissed faces of their fractured family. Her gaze stays longer on the innocent face of Powder, so unlike the deranged madness Jinx now bears.
“It’s… so realistic,” Vi whispers. Ekko grunts in reply. After all, he had painted most of the faces themselves.
“This is for everyone that we’ve lost. Benzo, Vander, Mylo, Claggor, her…” Ekko pauses, “and you. But you’re back.”
“Ekko, I need your help,” Vi pleaded, her voice bleeding with hope. “We have to get Powder back.” Ekko squeezed his eyes shut, letting a sigh out as he braced himself to break the truth to his adoptive sister.
“Vi, Powder’s gone.” His hazel eyes found Vi’s determined expression, eyes remaining fixed on Powder’s blue orbs in kind. “Silco made sure of that,” spitting that damned name like the poison that he was, “there’s only Jinx now.”
Vi lingers her gaze on Powder for a second longer before grey meets hazel once again. A cocktail of emotions swims in Vi’s eyes-- tinges of fear, denial, anger yet dominated by regret. Ekko knows her response before the words exit her mouth.
“No, you’re wrong.” Ekko isn’t sure whether she’s trying to convince him or herself. “I know that she’s still in there. Silco’s the problem, he has always been. Not Powder.”
The hope in Vi’s voice takes him back to when he held on to every word of hers like gospel, almost convincing Ekko that it was not the girl he loved, his best friend, that he had schemed and fought against for 7 long years. For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in Vi’s fantasy, remembering the carefree laughter and stolen glances. His heart ached to return back to those times, before Shimmer and a monkey bomb destroyed his second family.
Ekko recalls when he once shared the same sentiments as Vi: the nights spent wondering whether Powder, her body missing from the site, was still alive after the cannery explosion, the raids avoiding lethal blows to her as she rained bullets over his team, and the longing stirred when they faced off, bat against handgun akin to the makeshift sword and paint gun from a lifetime ago. He had hoped against hope that the blue-haired demolitionist that wreaked chaos in his home, the mad marksman that had killed his fellow Firelights, would one day return back to her senses.
But the naivety of that boy that tinkered in Benzo’s shop had been snuffed out by the realities of Silco’s undercity, the unchecked Shimmer that ravaged the streets and families of his people. Little man was gone, and a battle-hardened leader had risen in his place. His people need him now, and no wishful thinking will bring back what he had. Ekko keeps his turmoil within, and the moment passes just as quickly as it originated. Ekko hides his wistfulness with a melancholic sigh, heart heavy.
“You’ve been gone for a long time, Vi. A lot has changed.”
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The last time he sees Powder is on the bridge.
Ekko focuses on Jinx, dimly aware of the ache in his chest from where the bullet struck him and Vi’s retreating hobbles. He pushes the thought of Vi and the Piltie out of his mind-- he can deal with rendezvousing with the two if he makes it out of this alive.
Ekko’s eyes meet the powder blue of Jinx’s. Recognition and then understanding ignites in Jinx as she realises who was underneath the owl mask all this time.
“Look who it is, the Boy Saviour,” enough spite in Jinx’s voice to drown civilizations.
Despite himself, flashbacks of a time when he tried, and failed, to convince Powder to leave Silco come to the forefront of his mind. “I can save you,” he had pleaded, “just come with me.” He remembered the hurt he had felt when she admitted that she felt safer with Silco than with him.
“He would never abandon me.” And you think I would? Ekko wanted to ask.
Did she hate him for giving up on her? For prioritising Scar and other families over their broken relationship? Long forgotten guilt rose up like bile. He had saved so many. She was the one that got away.
Did she feel anything for him that wasn’t anger and murderous intent? Was she even capable of feeling nostalgia and love? Does she still remember what they once had?
He was going to test that theory.
Ekko smirked, feigning confidence and allowing a familiar mask of cockiness to remerge. Hiding apprehension, he steadied his hands as he pulled out an old stopwatch, Benzo’s gift for him to always treasure time-- if only he knew this when he was younger.
The metronomic ticking of the stopwatch elicits memories of times spent in the beaten-down arcade, a cheerful battlecry followed by the splat of paint against makeshift armour. He sees recognition alight in her face as the challenge is accepted. He shifts his stance, watching her intently as she does the same.
So she remembered after all.
The ticking of the clock and thumping of Ekko’s heart drown the last remnants of fear as he clicks the stopwatch. With a yell, Ekko charges. Duck, jump, twirl, duck again, jump. He feels the shells fly pass his hair as he continues forth. The last times they had played this game, she always emerged victorious. But Ekko was not the only one to have changed. Lanky limbs and a body toned from years of fighting propelled Ekko forward, covering distance faster than his opposition had anticipated.
With a cry, he swung his batton. Time slowed as he descended, his weapon making contact with Jinx’s face. His next swing deflected Jinx’s handgun. A quick shove brought her to the ground before quick punches followed in succession. Pining Jinx under his bat, Ekko continued his flurry of punches. He felt her nose break and skin split under his hands. Ekko pulled his fist back, preparing to punch again before stopping at the sight of her bloodied face.
“No,” she whimpered. When was the last time he saw her vulnerable like this?
He looked at her face again and noticed fear in the powder blue orbs. Powder, he thought. Was it really her, after all this time?
More thoughts invade Ekko’s mind. After all the years convincing himself that Powder was gone, Jinx never looked so much like Powder than now, bloodied and bruised by his hand. Vi was right, he thought.
More seconds pass. The flickering of chemlamps and heavy breaths suffuse the silence. Despite adrenaline coursing through his body, Ekko felt paralyzed. Indecision plagued his mind. Ekko didn’t know whether he wanted to continue rearranging her face or to lend her a hand up. She made the decision for him.
The ticking of Jinx’s chompers brings Ekko out of his reprieve. The moment is broken as the atmosphere between them shatters with an explosion of pink powder. Ekko catches one last look at Powder, smiling like she had bested him once again in their grand game, before diving away from the bomb. The heat singes the exposed skin as shrapnel finds its way into his leg and side.
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Ekko hobbles his way underneath the bridge before collapsing. Biting back tears, Ekko tries to get the vision of Powder’s bloody smile out of his head. Why did she do it? It seemed too cruel-- realising too late there were indeed hints of Powder left within Jinx. Realisation that arrived after Powder, the girl he had loved with all of his seven-year-old heart, absorbed a pointblank bomb.
I could have saved her. He whimpered at the thought. The boy saviour, she had called him. Taking his tear-stained cheeks into his hands, bloodied with her blood, Ekko whispers the name of his biggest regret, the one that he could not save.
The memory of her powder blue eyes ferry Ekko into unconsciousness. He wonders if the ache in his chest is from the enforcer’s bullet or his bleeding heart.
The next time he sees her, her eyes are pink.