The place didn't look as it had before.
Garou had let himself in when nobody had been around to unbolt the door for him, though walking about inside had struck him with an uncanny feeling before long. Loose materials were strewn about every available surface; lengths of various types of wire and cable, misshapen cuts of brass and steel and other alloys he didn't recognize including a large mass of it in one corner, soldering irons and welding equipment seemingly left out mid-use, even a clay crucible containing an igneous pool of previously melted glass sat about the centre of the room radiating its residual heat.
All of it only reminded him of Blue's underground workshop, where she'd imaginatively breathe life into her queer little creations…
Garou's eye tracked onto a walking cane, left behind by the corner of the room, and he had to wonder who it belonged to; the old geezer doctor who'd insisted on patching him up that one time certainly hadn't used one to get around. At least, not that Garou could remember.
He placed it back down, and glanced around once more, wondering what little more he'd be able to gleam from being in the place. A sharp pain shot through behind his eyes briefly; it had been happening more and more ever since he'd woken back up…
Why was he here again? Somehow it took him a moment to recall. He considered then whether he'd have been better off making peace with Blue's old man; he'd have known better where to look for her. Then again, even he hadn't managed to come upon her yet…
It stumped him to think that Isha might have figured it out already; where would she have run off to otherwise? The brief silence between his own thoughts presented the dark notion that she might have maybe gotten snatched up as well; there may well have been other malevolent forces at play within this city that he hadn't yet met. Was the place even worse off than he'd remembered? He gave it consideration, but ultimately shook it off.
Who'd wanna hurt some mute kid…?
His nose twitched. Something seemed off about the air in the room; the way it flowed and shifted felt unnatural on his skin, though it didn't occur to him how he ought to act upon the information. He decided just to follow it, lightly stepping toward the nearest wall while his strange new sense led the way.
Why am I here again…?
He realized the question was broader than the mere room he was in, as it stewed in his mind; his head ached as he found himself struggling to grasp at the once-steadfast personal mission that had originally prompted him to return to this rotting city… he could have gone anywhere in the known world—anywhere the sailors would be willing to take him—why did it have to be here, after all that had befallen him in this cursed place?
Because those fuckers deserve what's coming to them….
His fingers continued to slide along cold steel toward the ethereal target that lured him; some secret within the walls that seemed to beckon him in a way he could hardly describe. Suddenly there was a pocket; he detected the empty space as he tracked closer, some kind of vacuum behind the wall that the air being pulled toward…
He payed no attention to the etchings engraved upon its surface, as a part of him told him to push. He felt the slightest give in it; it was indeed a door, with a locking mechanism and rails for sliding, all obscured from sight, but he could feel them there as he pressed.
He pulled back, flexing his fingers before his eyes as he'd done thousands of times before, and as he clenched them, it occurred to him that his strength felt unlimited now. He had to wonder then, whether he had actually died to that beast as they'd all said, and that his body had somehow merely adapted to the experience. Changing toward something; changing by his very nature as a biological being… was this the true path to getting stronger?
Without a further thought, he wrenched the steel panel away; it only felt like peeling back foil. He discarded it beside him and stepped forth into the space he figured the doctor had sought to hide from prying eyes. Its insides were ornate, pretty even, compared with what lay behind him; a short entryway led into a small, hexagonal room bathed in faint moonlight, let in from above via a decorated-looking skylight. Garou supposed that the rain outside must have ceased since he'd been inside.
The walls were dusty, as he'd have expected them to be, though as his eyes tracked toward the painted steel floor, he noticed several fresh oblong shapes, left spotless from where furniture must have once sat; the room was otherwise empty. The large, egg-shaped dustless imprint in the very centre of the room struck Garou as curious, though.
He quickly grew frustrated, realizing that none of this helped him; all of his sleuthing around didn't feel as though it was getting him any closer to his target. A hunter needed a scent, after all. Maybe he was only ever any good at hunting down his enemies…
The noise made by what stirred behind him was a strange thing to describe; some loud assortment of clanking and whirring and metallic crunching, then by the time Garou turned it was a stomping and thudding, as it drew nearer to him—
Glowing eyes…?
He quickly reacted and managed to catch the surging brass fist of a figure that assumed the shape of a broad shouldered warrior, donning golden armor and a helmet that encased their entire skull. The punch had been thrown with greater strength than almost any man he'd ever fought. "INTRUDER—" it kept boorishly calling, from a mouth it didn't have.
'The hell…?' Garou puzzled as another metal fist came charging. He wheeled and avoided it, while pondering the feeling of the other glove still in his grip; he crunched down on its fingers and knuckles, feeling nothing akin to the splintering of bone, only metal.
He grew tired of guessing, sending his own attack the bastard's way, and only had his suspicions confirmed; many of the machine's parts clattered into the far wall at speed, while others were only sent skidding across the workshop floor as the thing fell to pieces at a single of Garou's punches. Its metallic voice rumbled no more, though Garou's solution hadn't yet left him alone again.
"That was… unexpected," remarked a male voice bearing a thick accent. The man glinted and shimmered, his skin grey and purple; he looked as though he might have been half-machine himself, peeking his head out to spot Garou slowly emerge from the workshop's hidden room.
"Guessin' that was yours?" Garou said in reply as he stepped out, his hand still balled into a fist.
The man wore a strange looking backpack, from which in that moment sprung forth a slender steel arm, articulated at multiple points and featuring at its end a trio of bladeless claws, clasped together at their tips.
The man looked down at the scattered assortment of parts for a moment, returning to Garou briefly before landing instead on the secret room he'd discovered.
"Are you… a colleague of Singed?" he asked, peculiarly.
The doc's name…? He was sure he'd heard Blue say it at some point. "Uh, former patient, I guess…" he responded. This must've been the friend she'd mentioned going off to visit, he thought; her description of the guy was slowly coming back to him. "Gonna cut to the chase— you seen a girl with long blue hair recently? Little kid along with her, maybe?"
The glimmering man's eyebrows lifted, ever so slightly. "You speak of… Miss Jinx?"
Miss—? Sure…
"Seen her lately, or not?" he pressed.
Garou watched the man's clawed arm promptly fold itself back into his backpack, before he unhurriedly strolled over to pick up the head of the brass machine Garou had not-so-carefully disassembled. He noted after a moment that all of its pieces were in fact still looking to be in good shape, despite having been scattered about the place.
"There was no child with her—" he finally replied. "Did Blitzcrank offer much resistance, would you say?"
"Eh…?" Garou was slightly confused.
"My robot— its name is Blitzcrank," he said. "Miss Jinx seemed to be somewhat fond of it when they last interacted."
"…Well, when was that?" Garou asked once more.
The man looked at him. "Some nights ago— she was… damaged," he said, a little gravely. "Who are you to her, if you don't mind my asking?"
He ignored the question. "Where is she now?" he demanded; he might have finally had something to go on…
"She did not so much say," he replied, slightly narrowing his eyes, and Garou huffed in frustration. "You… care for her?" the man guessed.
"I just…" Garou glumly grunted, "I need to find her, damn it…"
"Hm… it surprises me that she did not find you, in that case," he offered. "She seemed in danger at the time, but refused my shelter, presumably in favor of returning to her loved ones— she did claim as much."
Garou didn't know what to say to that. He'd go back to her cavern, he decided; if she had been back there at all, he imagined she must have left him some clue to her presence…
Garou was already at the door when the man asked him, "what was the nature of your ailment, might I ask— that you would submit yourself to him…?"
Garou looked back and tilted his head. Would he ever quit speaking in riddles…?
"You stated that you were previously a patient of Singed, yes?" the man clarified.
Garou crinkled his brow a little. "Wasn't exactly a willing arrangement…" he said. "He might've scooped out some charred flesh of mine so that I could heal properly— that was it. Didn't come back for anythin' else."
"I see…" he returned, and then Garou sighed.
"Look, if you somehow run across her or somethin', can you just tell her…" he said, faltering briefly. "Just— tell her to stay off the ground if she can, especially if the kid's with her. There's a creepy beast prowling about… but tell her I'm hot on its tail."
"A beast…?" the man asked. "What kind of beast?"
"You'll know it if you see it…" Garou said.
He then watched the guy snap the head of the machine back into the neck-socket, upon the piece that was once its torso. It made a loud click, and Garou thought he saw the eyes flicker, briefly. The man's face was touched with concern, however. "Would this beast… perhaps resemble a wild wolf in likeness, by chance?" he asked, curiously.
It was Garou's turn to narrow his eyes. "You came upon the thing already…?"
"No…" he said, even more mysteriously.
Garou wasn't sure where to proceed from there, so he simply left, dismissing the purple-glinted tinkerer as strange. As the door swung shut behind him with a creak, he observed the clearing clouds having made way for the faint pink light of dawn.
'One step forward, two back…' he grumbled to himself.
He suddenly sniffed again. It wouldn't have caught his eye, but it caught his nose; a discarded skewer on the ground, carrying the same scent as those he'd eaten from back at the stall, with that kid… Garou was certain it wasn't his own.
'Had the brat followed me here…?' he wondered. Then he heard the distressed tones of people, afraid; far off in the distance, they chattered and panicked and murmured in fear.
He titled his head up again, looking northward toward the river; the airships hadn't drawn any closer. He strained with his ears once more, stepping out into the alley.
'This ain't any of my damned business…' he told himself, but he couldn't deny it; the boy's nasal, irritating voice was in there among the fray. The boy who'd offered his own food for Garou to eat…
He willed himself to move his feet, and it occurred to him to give another sniff of the air as he drew nearer to the voices. He remembered the wolf's scent, strangely, though he didn't pick up on it this time; maybe he ought have been keeping his nose out for wet dog smell…
No; disappointingly, he only smelled more people…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
'"It's nice getting above it all,"' Vi had once told her, but… after she'd left her, all Jinx had really felt worth enough to sit above were the dealings and conversations that took place inside of Silco's office; these roof rafters were the place she'd come to know as well as any other during that time. Somehow, they didn't feel so familiar anymore…
Some other sense of surprise had struck her too; surprise at knowing that Sevika still breathed the same air as her. She'd found the woman was a sputtering, stabbed-up mess, however the hell Sevika had managed to let that happen to her…
Who would've noticed if she'd happened to have had a bullet-hole in her head when she conked? Jinx had to wonder at herself…
Had she had her fill of killing? She was certain that a past version of herself would've salivated at the opportunity that had just been left on the table…
She gave a cough as some dust agitated down from the ceiling, wondering how long he would end up spending downstairs. He'd left his coat draped over his chair, after all; she knew him well enough to be certain that he'd never have left the bar without it. She'd waited, and waited… so long that the rain had stopped outside had she waited for him to leave his office, before she'd dared to sneak the window open and make her way inside.
And now that she was here… what would he say when he noticed her? Would he be mad? Relieved? Why did she feel so unsure…? She couldn't help but begin to feel panicked about it all; she knew what she was here to say, after all, only she couldn't bring herself to think it knowing that Mylo lurked behind her…
'If he's not mad at the beginning, he will be by the end of it,' he whispered by her ear; too close. Her knife entered her grip, but at that moment she heard the creak of the staircase, and then of the hall's floorboards…
The handle turned and Silco strode through the door, weariness in his step. She was certain she'd kept herself still, but nevertheless saw him halt in his stride almost immediately; she could only hold her breath. He proceeded to slowly turn and inch the door shut, so delicately that it seemed as though he thought he might cause the entire room to collapse in on itself were he to apply any more force. She listened to his breathing, as he paused with his head pressed against the entry for what felt like an eternity, but she couldn't bring herself to be the first to speak.
"You frighten me, child…" He said it so quietly that she was surprised she could even discern the words. "Come down here, Jinx…"
Her lip quivered, and in that moment she wondered whether she was even going to be capable of a single word. As she lowered herself, tears filled her eyes, and then she was in his arms; they were so warm that she considered the prospect of not ever leaving them.
"How did you escape?" he whispered, his clutch tightening around her.
"I—" The words caught in her throat as she stayed herself from sobbing.
Then he pulled her away, held her before him, and she tried her best to meet his anguished eyes. His touch was more tender than it had ever felt. "You— your finger…" he began, rage flicking past his expression.
She quickly steeled herself and wiped her eyes. "D'you like it...?" She managed to force some humor into her tone as she waggled the prosthetic back and forth.
"Jinx—" he pressed, not entertaining her attitude even a little, "how did you leave that place— did you have help?"
She pulled away then, turning to step over toward his desk. "I— no, it was just me…" her voice was feeling smaller again, but she faced him once more. "I'm fine— really…"
In that moment, the expression on his face resembled that same one her sister had been wearing ever since she'd returned, and it only made Jinx uncomfortable; she hated being pitied…
Part of her hoped it would've been her glower that would convince him to let up, but she watched him wince with his eyes a few times before heading for the drawer in his desk. She considered letting him do it himself, only he didn't seem to be in great shape either, so she slowly clambered over and took the injector from his hand; the needle oozed its purple after being subjected to his shaky grip.
When it was done, he began immediately with a renewed strength of tone. "It's all turned to mess, Jinx," he said, dabbing the fluid that leaked from the eye. "I just received word that the Kiramman hostage was compromised—some specialty operative made a mockery of those idiots I'd entrusted to guard the girl—Renni's Chemtank armory was decimated as well, in all of the chaos caused by Smeech's farcical little coup, though all of that was at the hands of something else— Chross feeds me tales of some man-eating wolf…" He ran his wiry fingers through his hair after it had flicked down over his face.
"We managed to retrieve your Hextech weapons, Jinx," he added, turning to her, though his words didn't register immediately; she only thought of the one thing he didn't mention.
"Garou…?" she asked quietly, intently searching his gaze for answers.
His eyes fell from hers after a moment. "He'd gone after Smeech, the last I'd— well…"
She couldn't keep patient. "I know," she quickly said, "I went back once it was safe— he wasn't there."
His eyes flashed up again. "You went back—?"
"—Just tell me you found him," she cut in again. "Please— tell me he's…"
There was something happening behind his eyes, as though he were at war with himself; it felt like another eternity passed before he resolved it and finally answered her. "You… won't find him the way he was when you parted from him, child—"
She gripped him tightly, her eyes wide. "He's alive…?!"
His hands came to rest upon hers. "He's changed, Jinx..." he told her. "Into something else—neither a boy nor a man… you mustn't seek him out yourself."
Her face furrowed, turning almost to anger as she hardly believed what she was hearing from him. "What are you talking about…?"
Silco's posture stiffened. "When we found him, he'd passed to the other realm, child— he was dead," he said, harrowingly. "Somehow, his corpse drags itself through these streets, reeking of rotten blood, attacking all those in sight. It made no exception for me— those icy fingers briefly found my own neck."
When she was speechless, he continued his horrific recounting. "Its fury took it north, toward the river, last I'd seen… whatever is left of the boy will martyr itself against the forces of Piltover— you mustn't follow alone, Jinx. It's far too dangerous, even for you— you still need to recover from your own injuries."
She attempted to slow her breathing by squeezing her eyes shut. He was alive… despite all else being dropped on her, Garou was alive, she desperately told herself.
"I'm not alone…" she murmured, without even thinking.
He paused, then said, "good— the child should be protected too, we'll—"
"—No," she interjected, staring at him, as her courage found her. "Isha's safe with me, and with—" She felt herself falter, but it was in Silco's eyes that she spotted the flicker of fear, as though he somehow knew what she was about to say.
But she needed the truth, first. "Did you know she was alive, all this time…?" she quietly asked, eliciting a curious expression from him. "Did you know… that Vi was still alive?" she finished, more bluntly.
He regarded her strangely amid his confusion, and for those few moments she was nearly convinced that she really was crazy; that those past few days spent with Vi had all been some dream or hallucination, and that only Silco had the ability to pull her back to reality. But she realized instead that he must not have known, all this time; that he was reacting truthfully. After all, it had been Silco's idea to crack Stillwater open in the first place; if Marcus had placed Vi there on his instruction, then that would've been a foolish plan indeed considering how determined he'd know Vi would be in wanting to kill him.
"What are you talking about, Jinx…?" he finally asked. His suspicion of her was palpable. "Where have you been all this time…?"
"She was in Stillwater," Jinx replied; she wasn't sure why, but there was a hopeful piece of her that felt it possible that those past hostile tensions, many as they were, could be smoothed over on her sister's behalf if Jinx only chose the right words. "Vi— she's alive— she made it out when we freed them all… she helped me get back here, she's—"
But Silco's expression had grown dark. "Where...?" he demanded in a low tone.
Jinx suddenly realized how foolish she'd been to mention her. She quickly went to pull away, but Silco grabbed her arm, so tightly that it began to hurt her.
"Where, Jinx?!" he repeated. "Is she here— outside?"
"No, she's—" she grimaced, feeling tears coming as she struggled against his grasp. "She's with Ekko— with the Firelights," she lied.
She finally wrestled herself from his grip, him taking a moment to process what she'd just said. "You met with him, too…?" he asked, and she swore she'd begun to hear panic in his voice. But his eyes wandered down to her belt then, and she realized that her fingers were around the handle of her blade.
No part of her wanted to hurt him, but she found herself wary of him even still. He made a small movement in her direction and she immediately took a step backward, breathing sharply.
"Jinx…" he started in a calmer tone, "I hurt you— I… I hadn't meant to—"
A tear finally loosed and rolled down her cheek, the gravity of the situation hitting her all at once.
"Don't go anywhere, Jinx— please, we can begin again," he said. "No harm will come to Vi— you have my word…"
For the first time she could ever remember, she wasn't certain that she could trust his words.
"You've still got Sevika…" she told him through her teeth, "she's out there bleeding out, you know— you should get her some help…"
He said nothing, while his eyes darted. "You… this whole time— you'd meant to come here to say goodbye…?" he finally replied, with an emptiness to his words that caused her lip to quiver again.
Then his face changed. "Your sister's confused you, child— are you so foolish to think that whatever few Firelights you failed to kill will be willing to shelter you, given their feelings toward us? How will the two of you be together if you're their prisoner, Jinx—?"
She leapt on top of him, her knife in hand this time as she sought to silence him. "Then you should just kill them all!" she spat. "Kill them, kill Vi, kill Garou— then you'll have me all to yourself, like you've always wanted—!"
His wounded gaze bore a hole through her, causing her to let up the pressure she was putting on his chest.
"I want there to be a home for you when this is all over, Jinx," he pleaded, and his words felt real to her. "You'll leave behind our only chance at securing that future… I need you— the talent I saw within you that all your life everybody else had only ever doubted, Vi included—"
She hopped off of him, and she was there again; that rainy night, with Vander laying dead and deformed and twisted on the ground of the alley, only it was Garou instead of Vander… and her sister stood before her as she once had, telling her that all of it was her fault…
It was too much to bear.
"I'm sorry…" she found herself saying, and then she was moving, heading toward the door, wrenching it open, darting down the hall—
"Jinx—!" she heard him desperately call after her, but she was running then; opening the window the way she'd come, climbing down…
She slipped; fell hard against her shoulder, but she was outside then, on the ground. She clambered up to her feet again before Silco could have the chance to send anybody after her, and then she just kept on running, until The Last Drop was well behind her.