Future Winnings

Screams reverberated through the pipes, muffled from the distance and honestly the ringing in Jinx’s ears. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything, and if she could announce the pain she was likely in, she would.

But so many things were broken, bent, and the adrenaline was wearing off. Shock was setting in, at least that’s probably what the tingling probably was. Not that she cared, the cycle was over, everyone could rest. Those Piltie swine would follow Caitlyn everywhere, Vi would keep them grounded and represent the Lanes well, and Ekko would surely bring the needed advancements of a society without the Man of Progress around. 

And Jinx, well she wouldn't do anything. Not because in a few minutes there would be more blood outside of her than in, but because what could she help with? Everyone was either better at her than what she knew about or dead, and the only thing they weren't was killing. 

Even her ghosts were leaving her, ignoring her death, and even now she was more alone. Claggor sat at the entrance to the pipes, fiddling with his thumbs and Mylo was shaking his head at her snickering. 

Yeah, well, it won't be so funny when we're all halucanations huh? Jinx was fifty-fifty on the astral plane allowing her to interact with her dead friends. Who's to say she couldn't give a good smack across the back of the head post-partum. 

Jinx tried to cough up blood, choking on most of it and the rest spreading across her chin. This was it, Jinx would rest and finally be rid of her nightmares, repenting for at least a couple of her sins. Ekko had at least said that was the case before they had left on the airship. 

“You’ve always thought no ones gonna be there for you Pow.” Ekko had said, stopping his painting of her to press his lips against her temple. “But I’m here to fix that, we all are. I’ll meet you halfway every time, closer every time.” 

Jinx had really thought there was a chance for something. And she wouldn’t lie, hearing about a place that she existed with some balance about her life. Her knowledge of something that was feasible, quantifiable to her frenzy addled mind grounded her goals. 

She could stop the cycle with Ekko, her sister, and the other rats that hung around them. Jinx would trust those around them for the moment, only because of their word and Ekko’s persuasion. 

Little Man’s jacket encapsulated her figure, adorned with different scribbles and ownership of herself. A promise that he would earn her, and she would work toward his ownership. Maybe a little selfishness of having another human being devoted wholeheartedly did sound pretty good to Jinx as well. 

“I’ll need that back after this you know.” It wasn’t a question or a statement. Just hope that she would return. 

“Come on now,” Jinx had wrapped her arms around her partner, “I have the Boy Savior on my side, how could I not?”

Ekko had sighed, pulling her in for a hug. “Because I know you might know that everyone wants you back, but I don’t think subconsciously your body does.”

How right he had been. And now his jacket was stained too. Then again, she doubted Zaun even had dry cleaners, and Piltover wouldn’t take it. Plus who could take out her special brand of paint?

Jinx’s breaths became more ragged, now gasping to attempt to add seconds to the clock that had almost reached zero. If she had any sense to her she would have noticed the thumps of footsteps walking toward her. 

No, please don't be Vi...Ekko. It would make everything all for naught. None of them can fix everything, fix her. She had to change, it was all she could do. Jinx was too broken to fix anything else but the variable that was herself and the equation that was the world that was Piltover and Zaun. 

The steps came close enough for them the owner to be hovering over Jinx.

“Lookin’ good there Mom.” 

Jinx squinted and blinked through blood-stained eyes, trying to figure out who the robotic voice belonged to. She was still in the pipes, probably. Self-sacrificing through explosives and a literal thousand pound beast landing on top of you tended to scramble a brain that already was a psychiatrists nightmare. 

The figure reached down, their hands reaching toward Jinx’s eyes. She attempted to swat away the hand, but her arms didn’t move. They felt like they had been turned to powder, heh. 

Her red-tinted world became clear as the blood was wiped away, and the figure became shaped and defined. 

A girl a few years younger than her stared back, blue-hair frazzled and a grin to match. A familiar helmet adorned her waist, and her fashion sense had a strange mix of Zaunite and Piltie garbs. Yet it was the hourglass neckless around her neck that made everything click, this girl looked exactly like-

“Isha?”

When the concept of heaven had been introduced to Jinx, she had never thought that it would involve so much pain. There was supposed to be some choir songs, everything was supposed to go right for once, and finally she would get to see Isha. One of three things going her way sounded about right, but still didn't make sense. 

"That's me." 

Is that what Jinx sounded like to everyone? Even in the robotic tone she could hear the sass. There was a moment of silence, and only the drip drop of the water in the pipes filled the space. Jinx grunted as she attempted to shift her body, anything to get a better look at the girl in front of her. 

New information came through the pain; above the hourglass necklass, hidden from the large collar of the coat was some sort of metallic collar with blinking lights and circles where her vocal chords would be. A smaller, more intricate device that looked like Ekko's Z-drive hung by possibly-Isha's side. 

However, the surrounding glass cylinder was shattered, and there was no glow of Hextech in it. Maybe this girl was from another universe, just like Ekko had described to her. Maybe even the same one he came from, one where Powder was never buried deep beneath mistakes and self-hate. Maybe this Isha had grown up with an Ekko that only could focus on his genius, unburdened by the leadership necessary for the Firelights, and free to build a organic family not filled by survivors and victims of herself. Maybe Jinx was able to keep her madness away, staying Powder to show Isha what could have been, and learning what love was (with who she had always hoped would teach her). 

Too many maybe's, not enough certainties. 

Yet the access to her answers knelt in front of her, sinching tourniquets on her perforated limbs and flushing her wounds with a device that spewed a soothing foam. Jinx tried to say something, but her throat was filled with gunk. And she was tired, so very tired. All the thinking was too much effort. At least she was able to see what Isha could have looked like grown up. 

"Hey!" Jinx's eyes snapped open from Isha smacking her cheek, which would have stung if everything else wasn't still hurting. 

"Who’r...Wha-H-How?" Jinx managed to push out a single question. It would have to be enough to get information, enough for answers to her questions, hopes really.

Whatever fake-Isha had used to cover all her wounds was working, really well actually. Jinx was beginning to be able to actually think, a tingly feeling much like when she was around people she tolerated had spread throughout her body.

“How? Shimmer infused hex-foam, one of a kind and specifically made for this instance.” Fake-Isha stood up, her various trinkets on her waist clinking against one another. 

It had to be a dream, Jinx was looking at everything she had hoped to see Isha become. There was no hesitation in her movements, even her posture was straight. She was healthy, not a string bean from when they were forced to eat Zaun delicacies like bread and rice. 

Though, occasionally, Jinx would sneak back into Piltover and get them a pastry or desert every couple weeks. What others had every day, on a whim even, Isha and Jinx coveted. It was little things like it that had kept Jinx sane.

The fog in her brain began to lift, whatever the effects of the foam and treatment were becoming more prominent. Jinx coughed, clearing her throat and spitting red phlegm out on the ground, “How…where?”

Talking was still a work in progress.

Fake-Isha sat down, slipping an arm around Jinx’s shoulders. When had Jinx been sat up? Well, it didn’t matter, she always seemed to have a short bout of short-term memory after concussions anyway. 

“A good fifteen years from now,” Her alleged daughter sighed, “Things get better before they got worse. Piltover and Zaun really do try, and honestly succeed for a few years. Dad and I pretty much led the techlogical bridge between the towns for the time. Mr. Man of Progress was nowhere to be seen, and well, you were kinda dead.”

Dad? As in Vander? Grandad maybe? More likely….no, wishful thinking. Jinx was pretty sure the two hadn’t even met, let alone be considered close enough for labels like that. Not that Jinx would have minded, he would have been what Isha needed. Someone to pick her up after she fell down, or rather exploded from a project with Jinx. 

She was in a dream, someone’s messed up story that was being written for the enjoyment of others. In reality she was dead, soul ripped away and sent to live out her penance for her deeds. But knowing, thinking, that maybe Isha had lived a life that wasn’t all the worst that she had grown up around. That was enough to continue the current spiral she was experiencing.

Fake-Isha continued, “Everything was looking up; shimmer was off the streets, trade was booming, and Dad and I had a shop. He said it was the closest he had come to the other universe he had found. And I’ll be honest, I think he was too afraid of losing it again to do what I’m doing now.”

Jinx would have done the same. The chance to lose Isha all over again? Never. Ekko would have understood, just as she did now. 

“Yet,” Fake-Isha’s eyes became cloudy, and she reached to grasp Jinx’s hand, interweaving their fingers together. “They heard about our success-“

Silence. The girl next to her couldn’t utter a word. Jinx felt her hand pull away, and she turned her head to look at Fake-Isha. 

“I can’t say…some day, I’ll tell you more…” Fake-Isha signed, her hands moving to form the same symbols that Jinx and Isha had developed. Essentially a dialect between the two hooligans.

“…Talk?” Jinx croaked, gesturing with her fingers to her neck. 

“This?” Fake-Isha touched the device on her neck. The robotic voice came once again from the speakers, “Dad made this for me when I turned twelve, so a few years ago now. Turns out after they run all these fancy tests to see what’s wrong with you, solutions come right after. And there’s only so much genetics from a shimmer addicted mother can do to you that hex-tech and a genius can’t fix.”

Shimmer. It made sense, of course it was shimmer. The very thing that held Jinx together, and she had spread throughout the lanes, was exactly why Isha would and never had been able to grace Zaun with her voice. Yet another reason Jinx should be rotting in the sewer, and somehow the universe around her was saying otherwise. 

Karma worked in strange ways.

“Alright Mom,” Fake-Isha stood up, slinking an arm under Jinx to support her. “I only had enough to get you moving, I couldn’t bring more because of the limit on this time travel stuff. Let’s go find Aunt Vi, we’ll be able to rest when we have somewhere familiar.”

Jinx jerked away, losing her balance and splashing in the brown colored water. Her recently dried clothes were now soaked. “Stay…dead.”

Fake-Isha huffed, “Oh I see, Dad mentioned you had some bullsh-“

Jinx glared.

“-crap about breaking the cycle. Look Mom, it’s not you, otherwise why would I be here. Aunt Vi and Aunt Caitlyn literally have access to everything we could possibly need. It’s that or find Dad, and I seriously would like my first impression to be not bringing a half-dead lover to his doorstep.”

Jinx cocked an eyebrow and continued to glare. “Ekko.”

“Right,” Fake-Isha rubbed her hands against her temple, “Firelights it is, anything else?”

“Not…real.” Jinx flicked her eyes toward Fake-Isha, a single pointer-finger inched upwards to seal the remark.

Fake-Isha didn’t look amused, “Mom, I’m right here, who do you think I am? Don’t answer that, you need the energy. Alright one, every couple weeks on a Tuesday because it was the only times you could steal those fresh chocolate pastries from. The ones that were round, you know.”

It couldn’t be, Jinx was shaking her head. She wanted to crawl away, to end the dream that felt so great, so real.

“Two,” Fake-Isha continued, “We found out how to turn the blades on in the hideout, and you let me throw different balls down to see if I could get the blade to hit one.”

She had, but of course Dream-Isha would know that, Jinx was there. “Proof…I…there.”

“Lastly three,” Fake-Isha held a smirk that rivaled Jinx’s. “When you and Aunt Vi were younger than I am, she snuck out once. Wouldn’t bring you along because it was too dangerous, and had a cardboard cutout of herself placed in the seat next to your bed so it looked like she was still there. You only noticed because you had to go to the bathroom and were too scared of the dark…” Fake-Isha stopped her story, composing herself after a fit of giggling. “You dragged it all the way to the bathroom and back, even into bed, before Aunt Vi came back to you snuggling with it.”

It was absurd. The story was so convoluted, unreal, and outright fictitious that it wouldn’t pass for a fireside story. And yet, it was all true. Every story the girl in front of her had told was one hundred percent the truth. 

Tears began to flow from her eyes, dripping into the puddles beneath Jinx. “Isha?”

She reached out, fighting through the pain to grasp one of the few things that she vowed never to lose. A piece of her soul had returned, somehow. It didn’t matter how, but Jinx would do anything to keep her Isha here and present.

Isha held Jinx close, rubbing her back and pulling her tight, “Love you too Mom. Come on, let’s get going to Dad. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of questions.”

Yeah, Ekko. That guy; the genius to her madness. The apparent father to her adopted daughter. He would be receptive, the Firelights on the other hand… it didn’t matter, she had Isha with her. All was right for the moment. 

It sounded like it could get even better. Or worse.