Chapter Text
She was ready.
As she stood up, her long braids of blue hair stayed on the floor where she had laid just a second ago, as if they were always a part of the decoration at The Last Drop. She felt lighter, and not just physically — ever since she figured out how to break the cycle, it felt as if a massive weight was lifted from her soul that had been shackling her for years.
And if there ever was a place to get rid of the remaining weights, this was it. In here, there were only things that pulled her down. In here, she was forced to remember. Remember all she lost. All she took.
She picked up the two cans that she brought with herself and got to work. It wasn’t hard to create the necessary amount of flammable liquid for this job, she did work with explosives for years after all. As she went through the place, the memories began to flood her.
She looked at the chair that didn’t move anymore.
Silco.
She took the needle that she used to treat Silco’s eye with in her hand. He trusted her with his life, but she only really understood why once he was gone. For a long time he was the only one who accepted her as she was. He told her that she was perfect, even though that was far from the truth. He truly loved her as his daughter…
Before she killed him.
She buried the needle deep in the chair and soaked it all with gasoline, leaving the office and moving down to the first floor. A lone straw on the counter caught her attention.
Vander.
She remembered how busy the bar was back then. How Vander always warned them not to linger around strangers. How, whenever she felt down, he poured her her favorite juice in her favorite cup. He always found time to cheer her up, even if it meant embarrassing himself with the worst dance moves and jokes known to Zaun. He was a loving father…
Before she killed him.
She took a minute to find the cup and filled it to the brim from the can in her hand, dropping the straw into it as the finishing touch. Her last straw.
She continued sweeping through the inn, making her way to the door that led to the basement. Their basement. She opened it slowly, half-expecting the ghosts of her past to come out and haunt her as they did for years. But there was nothing — no voices at all. It was almost funny how they stopped the moment she arrived at the correct answer, as if they agreed with her. She would have laughed, had she remembered how to do so.
Mylo and Claggor.
She saw the crate hiding the locks that Mylo had ”gathered” to practice his lock-picking skills. He got quite good in a short amount of time. It was not an activity Vander approved of, but it was quite useful. He was the first who named her a ”jinx”, and he never knew when to shut up, but he wasn’t all bad. She remembered the time he stole a water-pistol from some pompous topsider toy shop as a birthday present to her… Her first gun.
Despite his appearance, Claggor was a gentle soul at his core. He loved reading his fantasy books when he wasn’t out in the streets, protecting his friends. She couldn’t even count how many times the boy saved her from punks chasing her down the street. There was that one time when he defeated three of them single-handedly…
The two boys made quite a pair. They always dreamed of fixing the ventilation system of Zaun together…
Before she killed them.
She put the two dolls she made of them years before into Mylo’s crate, alongside his lockpick and Claggor’s goggles. Relics of the past that haunted her for years, now fully soaked in oil, ready to be laid down to their eternal rest. She wasn’t done yet - there was one more thing left here she had to make sure to destroy.
The bed they used to share was as rotten as ever.
Vi.
She was everything to her, because she had no one else. She remembered the bridge, how she never let go of her hand. How she promised to always be there for her. How she couldn’t sleep alone for months and how Vi was there for her every night, hugging her, telling her that things were going to be okay.
Before she took away everything from her.
Jinx blamed her sister for a long time but she now knew that what happened was her fault. They would never get to share a bed ever again. But at least Vi was still alive, while everybody else kept dying on her. The problem was, Vi was stupid enough to sacrifice herself for her over and over again, no matter how badly Jinx treated her. After all she put her sister through, she deserved to be happy. And for that she had to leave.
And so she did, leaving their childhood home for the final time. As she walked through the front door, she lit the match she brought with herself, threw it inside, and watched the flames consume it all.
For a few seconds, she contemplated going back in, but she wasn’t done saying goodbyes yet. She needed an irreversible method anyway, in case somebody found her and tried stitching her up like last time.
It occurred to her that chances of that were quite low, as she killed the last somebody like that.
Jinx entered her… their hideout for the final time. The last time she left, she wasn’t alone. She still had…
Isha.
She was the only one left she had to say goodbye to. She hadn’t slept since the day she… since the day Caitlyn threw her in prison, and she was glad for that. She didn’t want to see the kid in her nightmares.
As she moved through what they used to call home, all the evidence of the life they spent together came into her view — each one a knife thrust into her chest, twisting, causing pain that she never thought she could feel ever again. The tent the kid quickly claimed as her own personal space. The dye she used to paint her hair the same blue as hers. She was sure she could find Scuttle Butt and Stink Maw, the gladiator bugs, had she searched for them. And the countless graffiti they made together, decorating the blades of the fan that supported their weights.
Her eyes gave way for her tears, not clear and pure but purple and vile, mixed with the Shimmer that ran through her veins, keeping her body functioning.
“I’m sorry, Isha.”
All this time, she kept on believing that things could get better. There was always someone who she clung on to, someone who gave her the confidence to move on. That was part of the curse, she now understood. She held on as long as she could. But now she was alone, with no strength left and nothing left to hope for. No one else would die for her. Because of her.
The curse would end today.
She couldn’t find it in herself to burn down this last sanctuary as well. Instead, she made her way towards the blade farthest from their tent, the one wrapped up in darkness the most as if she hoped Isha wouldn’t see her there, grabbing a grenade from the main platform on the way. From there, the plan was simple — she would go the same way she killed them. The blue orb of destruction, a bright light leading her to the next place, followed by the fall to oblivion.
She placed the crystal into the grenade and closed the lid on it. For a split second, she admired the sheer absurdity of her design — a killing machine taking on the shape of a circus monkey. It always made Isha laugh. It made countless others dead. It was time for her to join them.
She put her finger on the trigger.
“See you on the other side, kid.”
And she pulled—
“WAIT!”
The voice made her freeze.
Ah, how could I forget. The Boy Savior.
She turned back towards the main platform where he stood, panting heavily, as if he just traveled through the entire universe to stop her.
“I just… wanna talk to you, okay?”
She had to admit, her hallucinations were never this vivid before. But it all made sense here, at the eleventh hour.
I forgot to say my goodbyes to you, after all. But you left nothing behind. And you were never really here with me, anyway.
The vision that stood about ten steps away began to slowly approach her.
“I never got to thank you, you know,” she said.
“For… for what?” the vision asked, stopping its advance.
“For that look you gave me, on the bridge. It’s why I believed her when she looked at me the same way.” She turned to the central pillar to look at the last drawing they made together with Isha. It was just the two of them, smiling. “But she’s gone now. And so are you.”
“What do you mean, I’m right h—”
“So thanks. And thank you for being the last one here. This time, I will finish the job.”
And she pulled the trigger.