Chapter 1
Being born and bred as a Zaunite, you knew the struggles of the undercity just as well as any other: the lack of food, the prejudicial treatment from enforcers, the violence. Not to mention the poisoned air. Because of this, you have always been a strong believer in supporting what’s best for Zaun — once Vander, now Silco.
This belief is the only similarity you share with Sevika. That, and the memories of each other’s teenage years.
It was a hard pill to swallow — having to work under her, after years of rivalry. In fact, you were sure that she was smirking like a fool, upon finding out. However, power wasn’t something that interested you greatly. You had bigger ambitions.
A future for Zaun, by any means.
This belief enabled you to maintain some form of civility between yourself and Sevika, attending meetings with Chem-Barons together, and completing Silco’s missions. Somehow, over the years, your relationship has shifted from teenage hatred into something unfamiliar.
While not friends, it’s not uncommon for you two to talk about your week, nursing a shared bottle of Whiskey. Despite not being lovers, you have fallen into each other’s beds more than you’d both prefer to admit — which, youdon’t. And regardless of both things, you definitely still experience active irritation and frustration from the other’s actions.
You’re both well into your thirties — the hatred should be gone completely. That’s the expectation, words said by Silco. So, how come it continues to linger, spouting out when times get hard and suffocating?
Was it a coping mechanism? Perhaps, it provided something familiar to cling on to.
Either way, it’s unhealthy, yet neither of you plan on fixing it anytime soon. The paradox continues.
***
Having been called to Silco’s office so late, you push through the regular patrons at The Last Drop, waving your fingers at Thieram as you walk through the back of the bar. His door has been left ajar, two voices faintly heard from inside.
Raising your fist, you knock once.
The voices cease. Then, Silco’s smooth tone fills the air, “Come in.”
You step inside with a straight back, your right hand lazily resting on your belt buckle, the left twisting a metal ring.
Blue hair registers first: long and braided into two section like tails. Jinx.
She grins joyfully, eyes lighting up with excitement as she swings her legs around the front of Silco’s desk, calling your name. “I thought you were the fat ogre. Never mind, we’ll have more fun, anyways.”
You raise an eyebrow questioningly, turning to Silco to hear an explanation.
He clears his throat, interlinking his fingers and placing them on the desk. “Jinx intends to create a new explosive device. However, the book she requires no longer exists. Ran told me you used to have an eye for mechanics. Are they correct?”
Your lips tighten at the thought of Ran spilling your secrets but you force it down, irritated at your own paranoia. You nod your head once, eyes flickering to Jinx briefly as she leans forward on her toes.
“It is. Though, I’m not as practiced as I used to be.” You responded plainly.
Silco quirks his eyebrow. “Do you know what a…” he trails off, looking to Jinx for her to fill in the blanks.
“Pyrotechnic composition.”
“…pyrotechnic composition is?” He finishes, looking back at you.
You cross your arms, a tired sigh falling past your lips as you turn to Jinx, answering Silco’s question by directing one to her. “You want to build a smoke bomb. Nothing drastic? No…explosives?”
Jinx leaps off the desk like a cat, her eyes bright like she’d won something. “Juuust smoke. Silco’s rules.”
You hum, taking a moment to consider the situation. “You want me to teach her how to make smoke bombs?” The question is directed to Silco.
He tilts his head. “And then some.”
You blow out an amused breath, looking between his stoic expression and Jinx’s growing apprehension. “Will this be during my time off the clock?” You ask in spite of the fact that there is no work schedule. Silco’s men are used when needed. That’s how it goes.
Still, he understands and taps the desk quietly. “You’ll be paid, if that’s what you mean to ask.”
You nod, seeming satisfied with the change. “When do you want to start?” Instead of asking Silco — the man paying you — you turn to Jinx, crossing your arms.
She blinked, looking back at Silco who gave no visual response, before grinning wickedly at you. “Tomorrow. In the morning. But it has to be in my fort!”
You bow your head briefly, attempting to build an equal relationship, knowing that babying Jinx can sometimes lead to a meltdown. “Tomorrow it is.”
She squeals childishly, leaping and hauling herself to the ceiling platform where she likes to lay.
Your gaze shifts down one of the bannisters, returning to Silco’s silent stare. “Is that all, Sir?”
He nods once, leaning back into the chair. “You may be dismissed.”
As you turn to exit the door, it’s swung open with a combined force. Your chest clashes with a much harder one, eyes immediately clashing with Sevika’s grey irises.
Her top lip curls at the left, eyes narrowing down your figure judgmentally.
Neither of you speak, the scoffs leaving your lips saying enough as her shoulder pushes into yours. Your eyes roll as you continue walking in the opposite direction, leaving Silco’s office with a craving for something strong to drink.
“Cook up something nice for me, Thieram.” You command, reentering the bar and walking straight past without hearing his response.
Your gaze locks onto a figure playing pool, steps gaining speed as you confidently stride to their size. “You been talking about me to Silco?”
Ran looks up from directing a shot, the pool cue still lined up ready. “What’s this about?”
Your eyebrows raise increasingly as you shift your weight onto your hip, resting against the pool table. “You’ve been telling him multiple things?”
They sigh, rolling their eyes and standing tall. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”
“I have ‘an eye for mechanics’?” You mock in a low tone, leaning closer to talk.
Ran rolls their eyes, a faint chuckle passing their lips. “That’s it? A small comment to boost your skill set?”
You kiss your teeth, maintaining a low tone to talk. “I don’t like people knowing my shit, Ran. Not from before this life.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” They sigh, despite not understanding the significance of something so small. “Won’t happen again. Fancy a game?”
You hum gruffly, eyes sweeping over the pub. Noticing Thieram waving you over, you push your hip against the pool table to straighten. “Finish this one first. My bet’s on you.”
You give a brief look to one of Sevika’s weakest goons — Ran’s opponent. He’s older than us both, unintelligent, and a drunk.
“Thanks.” They hum, resuming their previous position as you leave to collect your drink.