#this got so long but jinx needed to ramble on and on xD

[bangpow]

The lab feels like it’s vibrating—no, maybe that’s just Jinx. Every muscle in her body is coiled too tight, her mind a chaotic hurricane of splintered thoughts that slam into one another and spin her deeper into the storm. Viktor’s voice hangs in the air, calm and steady like it usually is, but that calm only sets her nerves more on edge. It feels wrong, like the calm before an explosion. She wants to scream. Or laugh. Or both. Probably both. Then Mylo’s voice cuts through the noise in her head, louder than all the others. “You’re not safe, you’re fucked. Piltover’s probably coming for you right now. Did you really think you could just fire a rocket at their council and walk away?”

❛ Shut up, ❜ she snaps out loud, her voice cutting across the room, her hand slashing the air as if she can swat the voice away. ❛ I know that, okay? Just let me fucking think! ❜ Her words echo off the walls, raw and sharp, before falling into heavy silence. Her breath comes fast and uneven, her chest heaving as she drags her hands down her face. The smeared remnants of black makeup streak across her pale skin like war paint. ❛ Uuugh, ❜ she groans, the sound guttural and strained, as if she’s trying to pull herself out of quicksand. Her nails dig into her scalp, scratching at the relentless buzz beneath her skin. ❛ Where do I even begin? ❜

She spins on her heel, pacing back and forth with restless, jerky movements. Every step feels like it might rattle her apart. ❛ Okay, okay, ❜ she mutters to herself, squeezing her eyes shut for half a second before they snap back open. ❛ I’ll give ya the speed-run version, yeah? From the top! ❜ Her voice pitches higher as she speaks, her words rolling out like a train teetering off its tracks. She stops abruptly, spinning back toward Viktor, her hands flying up in exaggerated gestures as she talks. ❛ So! I got into a teeny-tiny tussle with that Firelight twink over a hextech gemstone I was rightfully stealing back. ❜ Her tone is mockingly indignant, but the wild glint in her eyes betrays her. ❛ And that little scuffle? Yeah, that ended with me pulling the pin on Petunia. ❜ Petunia is the name of one of her bombs, she’s pretty sure she named it with Viktor. Her grin twitches wider, manic and sharp, before she adds, ❛ RIP, Petunia. She went out with a bang and nearly took me out with her. ❜

She starts pacing again, her boots tapping against the floor in a frantic rhythm. ❛ Next thing I know, I’m strapped down to a table, and Caitlyn—ugh, Caitlyn was there—torturing me. Or, uh, maybe she wasn’t? Actually, no, it was Singed. Definitely Singed. Definitely pumping me full of Shimmer to keep me alive. ❜ Her voice is bouncing between sarcasm and genuine distress, her pacing speeding up as she talks. ❛ 0/10, would not recommend. But the perks? ❜ She stops suddenly, spinning to face Viktor with a grin that’s a little too wide, her glowing eyes burning too brightly. ❛ The perks are killer. ❜

Before he can respond, she’s already moving, grabbing a metal tray off one of the cluttered tables. ❛ Check this out, ❜ she says as she pulls her pistol from its holster in one smooth motion. Without warning, she fires, the crack of the gunshot ringing through the lab like a thunderclap. And in the blink of an eye, she’s gone, the tray clutched in her hand as she reappears across the room in a blur of violet light. The bullet punches through the tray with a sharp ping, and she holds it up triumphantly, her grin splitting her face like a jagged wound. ❛ Pretty cool, right? ❜ she says, blowing the smoke from her pistol’s barrel with a dramatic flourish.

The tray clatters to the floor, and her hand trembles as she holsters her gun. Her pacing resumes, slower now, her steps uneven. She knows she can’t keep stalling. The real words claw at the back of her throat, begging to be let out, but they feel too big, too sharp, too heavy to say. ❛ But, uh—that’s not everything, though . . . ❜ Her grin falters, cracking at the edges as she glances at Viktor from the corner of her eye. She doesn’t want to tell him. Doesn’t want to see his face when he hears.

But the voices won’t let her rest. “You killed him,” Mylo’s voice hisses, cruel and unrelenting. “You killed Silco. You killed the only person who ever gave a damn about you.” Her hands fly to her head, her fingers digging into her hair. She stops pacing, her back to Viktor as she stares at the ground. Her voice is quiet when she speaks, barely above a whisper, but the words feel like they might break her in half. ❛ He’s dead . . . ❜ She doesn’t turn to face him, doesn’t want to see the look in his eyes. ❛ Silco, ❜ she adds, the name tumbling out of her mouth like a stone. ❛ He died . . . ❜ Her voice cracks, raw and broken, as she forces the words out, but still can’t bring herself to say she killed him. ❛ And then I . . . I sort of fired a rocket at the council building. Big one. Real big one. Probably killed a whole bunch of people . . . Because I thought . . . I thought it’s what he would’ve wanted. ❜

Jinx’s chest tightens as the weight of it all presses down on her. Viktor’s alive—against all odds, he’s alive. She can feel his arms around her, solid and steady, but it doesn’t anchor her the way it should. Her mind refuses to stay in one place, spinning and twisting like the cogs of some broken machine.

What happened to you? Her thoughts scatter like cockroaches under a beam of light. What happened to her? Where does she even start? Her thoughts are a cacophony, fragments of explosions, screams, and blood swirling together until it feels like she might drown in them.

She pulls back from the embrace abruptly, needing space to breathe, her movements twitchy and erratic. ❛ That’s . . . a loaded question, ❜ she says, her voice dancing on the edge of a manic chuckle as she tries to push the weight of her grief into a joke. The corners of her mouth twitch into a crooked smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. ❛ But kinda the same thing that happened to you. Tried kickin’ the ‘ole bucket and then someone snatched the bucket away at the last second. ❜ She mimes a kick at the ground, her boot slicing the air with too much force, her body moving with an energy that feels unnatural, almost frenetic.

Silco. The name slithers into her thoughts like a knife to the chest. Her face tightens, the mask slipping for just a second. She can still see his blood staining her hands, feel the weight of his final words as they burrow into her skull. Perfect. He thought you were perfect. Mylo’s voice, sharper than ever, cuts through her haze. And you killed him.

Her eyes narrow, and then she’s gone—a streak of violet light tracing her movement as she reappears behind Viktor in a blink, as if she’s been pulled there by an invisible thread. ❛ But, uh, to answer your other question—❜ Her voice jolts the silence before it grows too heavy. She raps her knuckles lightly against the metal of his shoulder. ❛ I think you are the Hexcore now, scrap metal. That thing fused to you like it had a mind of its own. You’ve been out cold for, like . . . three days in that weird-ass cosmic cocoon. ❜ She jerks her thumb toward the remnants of the cocoon behind her, its strange, gooey colors shimmering faintly in the dim light. ❛ And lemme tell ya, what a wild three days it has been! ❜ A dry, nervous chuckle tumbles from cracked lips.