Chapter Text
Unregistered Building, Piltover 6 Years Earlier
They fucked up.
Oh, Janna, did they fuck up.
You’d think this were their first ever heist with how stupid they had been. How did they not recognize the signs? Their tip-offs were a little too detailed, and their plans went off a little too perfectly. Of course it was a trap, how did they not realize that this was a trap?
Now they’re stuck in a potentially lethal situation that, if it doesn’t get them killed, will surely get them thrown in jail—and it just had to be the first outing they’d decided to take Powder out on. Powder who, they’re very aware of, is currently multiple stories split off from them in a burning building that’s collapsing around them with Enforcers that are most definitely closing in on the place.
Vi looks around in a panic, Mylo and Claggor a few paces to the side of her trying futilely to ram open the metal door using loose metal pipes and sheer strength. Vander stands opposite them, trying desperately to clear the roaming fire away from the stairs and clear the debris enough to make it over to Powder.
She doesn’t know what to do—it doesn’t help that over the roaring of the flames she’s acutely aware of distant sirens mingling with the low keening calls of her name that she knows belong to her sister.
Vander is shouting something that doesn’t reach her ears and moving across the smoke-filled room to the boys, helping them pry open the door with straining grunts. It’s the crash of another support beam slamming into the floor and breaking into a million little pieces that breaks her from her stupor.
He’s promising that they’ll go back for Powder, that they’ll get her out and they’ll all run, but that they can’t do it from in here, and ‘I need you to help me, all right?’
She helps them pry the door open, slamming a thin (thin-ner, none of these are particularly thin) piece of metal into the crevice between the actual door and the doorway, levering it with the help of the others’ pulls until it slams open with a gust of wind. They all stumble out into the opening air coughing their lungs out.
Vi looks up at the front of the building, from her place below she can see through all of the windows of the building, including the windows of the floor Powder is on. Her blue hair distinctive amongst the red-orange flames, she’s calling for help and there are tear tracks and ash and soot sprinkled across her face—a face full of baby-fat because she’s still young. Oh, so young.
Her mouth is open, ready to yell reassurances at the top of her lungs—her lungs that still hurt from all the coughing, but she’ll take any pain in the world to protect her sister—to tell her it’s safe, not to worry, that they’re coming to get her, but it all gets caught in her throat when the sharp feeling of a needle jabbing into the side of her neck is felt. Her tongue feels noticeably heavy, and when she looks around she can see Vander and Mylo and Claggor looking oddly disoriented.
It takes her entirely too long to see the Enforcers.
Vander reaches out a hand, tries to hold onto her, she does the same. There are black spots dancing along the edges of her eyes and she can’t hear anything except for the sound of her sister’s cries and the soft groans and moans of her two brothers. It fills her vision now, the black of the void closing around her until her last sight is of a smug looking man, an empty needle in hand.
She can’t tell if she’s conscious or not, but she’s entirely aware of the rough dirt beneath her as she’s dragged along by the back of her shirt.
The building crumbles, blue hair nowhere to be seen.
Apartment 3B, Zaun Present
Ekko sways slightly to the soft lyrics coming from the old music player Jinx had fixed up (she had gotten it from the junkyard just a ways away where they get all their scrap metal from, had gifted it to him as an apology for messing up his watch) tongue poking out from his lips as he examined the inner workings of his hoverboard.
The door to his room opened a crack and long blue braids swung in as a head poked through the opening, “Hey, Ekko?”
He gave an absent hum of acknowledgement, using the tip of his screwdriver to pry open a metal panel. Jinx blew out a soft breath and he could almost hear her rolling her eyes, “I’m goin’ out for a bit, you need me to pick anything up?”
Ekko looked away from his work, leaning back in his chair to stop the music. “Where’re you headed?”
She shrugged, it was now he noticed the thick strap of her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, “Just a quick supply run, I’m outta scrap and I got a commission due in a little less than a week.” Jinx stepped into the doorway, leaning against the frame with a raised brow. “So, need anything?’
He chuckled quietly at her impatience, “Nothin’ from the junkyard, but d’ya mind runnin’ out for some groceries? We’re running low.”
”Psh,” she scoffs mockingly, “Can’t barely even pay rent, what makes you think we can afford groceries?” The small tick of her lip tells him that she’s joking (or, at least, he hopes she’s joking because they’ve already gotten two warnings and if they get another they’re absolutely being evicted) and he shakes his head in exasperation.
“How long you plannin’ to be out for?”
”Dunno,” she gives a half-shrug, biting her lower lip in thought. “Prolly just a few hours, might spend some time just walkin’ around.”
He grins, “All right, don’t stay out too late. You’ve still got work, y’know?” His grin only widens when she scowls at him with faux annoyance, nose scrunching up as she sneers at him. “Don’t forget your keys this time!”
”Sure thing, Boy Savior.” She gives a two finger mock-salute, spinning on her heels into the main room. “See ya ‘round.”
Ekko hears some shuffling and the jingling of keys before there’s the sound of the front door opening and shutting.
It’s, maybe, a little less than an hour later when Ekko hears a knock sound. He knows, or assumes, it’s not Jinx. He’d heard her grab her keys (not without some struggle, of course. There was a copious amount of drawers opening and shutting before she actually left) and she’s not incompetent or so petty that she wouldn’t just use them to get back inside, not even including the fact that the junkyard should keep her occupied for more than just half an hour. So, he’s really not sure who could possibly be at the door.
He reaches under his desk, fingers curling around the handle of his metal bat, and makes his way to the front door.
Inconveniently, the front door doesn’t have a peephole that he’s seen in all of the houses and apartments in Piltover—it makes sense, really, considering where they live. Zaun doesn’t have much care for the whole “safety first” spiel, especially not in the street he and Jinx are living.
Ekko situates himself against the wall, unlocking the main lock, then the other two that Jinx had installed “just in case.” No one immediately enters when the door opens, so he’ll take that as a win. He moves in front of the door, bat raised and ready for an attack, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Pink hair catches his attention first, then the familiar lumbering stature of a man behind her. It surprises him enough to make him drop his weapon, jaw slack with shock. “Vi?”
Vi, he thinks—hopes (knows)—it’s Vi, raises a hand in a weak wave, the tattoo curving as she gives him a sheepish smile, “Hey?”
Ekko stares wide eyed in the doorway, bat now hanging limply at his side, “You gonna let us in, Little Man?”
He lets out a strangled laugh at the nickname, stepping back jerkily to clear space for them to enter. He’s suddenly very conscious of the mess that is their apartment, scraps of metal littering every possible surface, half-finished, scribbled on blue-prints thrown around haphazardly. Their couch is old and the cloth torn, their table unbalanced and half-eaten by termites.
He gestures to the open seats, only kind of aware of himself asking if they’d like a drink. They all decline, but he needs to do something with his hands and all of his projects aren’t travel sized like Jinx’s and, not to mention, all in his room, so he sets about the kitchen grabbing glasses and filling them with water that he hopes is the one they ran through their makeshift filters.
He sets the glasses on the table and takes a seat across from them, the silence feels almost as loud as the music Jinx plays when she’s working. “What are you—uh,” Ekko pauses, rethinking his words, “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in—“ In 2364 days, I would know. Jinx keeps a calendar and has been marking down the days since you left her disappeared, “A really long time.”
Vi gives a heavy chuckle, rubbing at the back of her neck. Mylo and Claggor—and, isn’t that weird? He was never close with them, but he remembered what they looked like all those years ago, this, though? This was different—both look strangely uncomfortable with his question, looking anywhere but him. “We—the Enforcers got us, we’ve been in St-“ She cuts herself off, “In prison for—for a long time.”
He lets the words sink in, puffing out a silent breath. Prison—Stillwater—of course, where else would they be. “Guess the rumors weren’t just rumors after all, you really went and got yourselves arrested.” He tries to joke, words falling flat.
Vander, mercifully, cuts in. “We’re looking for Powder. We asked around and they said to look here, I guess they meant to ask you?”
Vi perks up, cutting in with her own question, “Yeah, Little Man. Do you know where she is?” The other two do a very poor job at hiding their interest, glancing back and forth between him and the table, and literally everywhere else in the room, but always coming back to him.
”I-“ He grimaces, trying to think up the wording. “I mean, technically? I know where she is, but I don’t think that it’s a really good idea to just, you know, bombard her. It’s been…a really long time since you guys have seen her. Everyone’s….everyone has changed, you know?” It feels like a betrayal, trying to prolong their meeting, but he knows that it’s for the best. That day had really fucked her up, even if—when (doesn’t she already)—she knew the truth, it would still hurt to see her. “I think it’d be best if you guys went and stayed at—wherever you’re staying—while I talk to her about it. Set up a meeting and get her prepared to see you all again?”
Mylo—and really, Ekko knows he means well, that he’s probably trying to make up for those years of bullying her and the subsequent disappearance, but he’s trying too hard too quickly and someone (all of them, some of them) is going to get hurt—cuts in angrily. “What do you mean, ‘wait’? She’s our—our sister, you can’t keep her away from us!”
No one chimes in to correct him, he assumes they all agree with the statement and he can’t help but sigh. “That’s not what I’m tryna do, I’m just saying that maybe you should let this be on her own terms.”
And, apparently, the universe hates him. Apparently, they’ve also been talking for a lot longer than he had expected, because he hears the distinct sound of the locks clicking one, two, three then the turn of the doorknob and the creak of the hinges and suddenly—suddenly, Jinx’s lithe form is swaying into the living area with her duffel bag slung over her shoulders and two bags cradled in her other arm.
He hopes she won’t notice—hopes she’s too distracted by precariously trying to balance the groceries onto the kitchen counter away from all their tools. Hopes she’s too busy setting down her bag of scrap metal. Hopes she doesn’t turn around to see Vi and Vander and Mylo and Claggor standing in their living room and that she’ll go straight into her room to get changed into something more comfortable.
It doesn’t happen, obviously. She turns around, locks eyes with him first, then to Claggor, then to Mylo, then to Vander, and finally—and he doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not—on Vi.
She’s stock still, muscles pulled taut. Vi seems to have no reservations in seeing her for the first time in years, as her first instinct is to yell out, “Powder,” with a wide grin and practically vault over the back of the couch to try and embrace the other girl.
Bang
Vi stumbles back, the air ripping around her ear and stray, cut strands of pink hair drifting to the floor. Jinx stands, arm outstretched and finger hovering the trigger with narrowed eyes.
”P-powder?”
Jinx bares her teeth and, when she looks at him, Ekko shakes his head imperceptibly. He’s thankful for the years of trust they’ve built with each other when she spins her gun around her index finger, flicking on the safety, and holstering it out of sight. “What’s going on here?”
He knows very well that the question is directed at him even if she isn’t looking at him and he fixes a half-grimace, half-smile to his face, “I can explain?”
The glare punctures his soul, “You better.”