"It doesn't have to be this way. Surrender Jinx, and your punishment will end."
Yeah fucking right. Gustove crosses the street where the loudspeaker blared the repeated lines from the enforcers, pushing into the bar with an annoyed grumble. The patrons all scurry to get out of his way as he makes his way to the bar, a whisky being poured and placed at his seat before he gets there. His jaw aches from (yet another) surgery and the bolts holding it together feel a bit tight on the inside, making prolonged conversations and tough food a chore. He downs the glass in one go and has another placed in front of him before he can even signal. Zero, the seemingly omnipresent bartender, gives him a warm smile in acknowledgment before turning their attention to other customers. He drinks this one slower, the alcohol warming him from the inside out and ebbing the pain from unpleasant to simply irksome.
Scanning the bar reveals a handful of familiar faces, some from his time in the slam and others from the life he left behind. He would never entertain the idea that he is a good person, not with what he's done, but he wholeheartedly believes that few have luck as cursed as his. An entire lifetime was built up and torn down by one man, his unpredictable daughter, and her wildly violent and exceptionally talented boxing sister. The three of them are as inescapable as the wheel of time for him - a wanted poster for Jinx outside the bar. The local radio station still talking about the mysterious dark-haired girl's meteoric rise and catastrophic fall in the boxing ring. The rally turned riot at Vander's statue. Stories whispered among Zaunites of their memories at The Last Drop, now reduced to ashes. And now, of the mounting rebellion and discontent with the Enforcers, being led by none other than Jinx herself.
He nearly laughs at the absurdity of it all. The bullet wound in his stomach itches at the memories, and he rubs his jaw absentmindedly. The doctor he went to is nothing short of a miracle worker, and having the (mis)fortune of being a semi-frequent client had made him distinctly suited for his visit. He had issued a relatively firm warning after double checking the screws in his mouth (flaring up again, taking another drink to soothe them down) - another broken jaw and he may never be speaking or eating the same way again, and definitely never fighting in the ring. The news had devastated Gustove, given how much effort he'd poured into becoming the champion and leaving the gang activity behind. Still, some part of him, the annoying karma-centric part, reminded him that there are worse fates for people like him. He doesn't deny this but also thinks a fair compromise tonight is to drown his sorrows at the bar and figure out what comes next at a later time.
He's just finishing his second drink when a familiar-sounding gait emerges behind him, taking a seat at his side. Only a handful of people alive do this so casually, and he doesn't have to look up to know who it is.
"Sevika."
"Lock."
He frowns. "It's Gustove now, you know that."
She waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Old habits."
He snorts. "Before I was Lock, it was Gustove. You're one of the only ones still alive that knows that."
She chuckles at that, hailing the bartender, who hands her two drinks with a wink before disappearing again. She blinks and shakes her head.
"Don't know how they're so damn fast." She eyes the drinks before passing one to Gustove. "Whisky kinda night, huh? Are we celebrating your ability to chew food again or lamenting another loss to your pink-haired nemesis?
The jab is expected, but the wound is still fresh. The man bristles and downs the rest of his drink. Sevika frowns.
"Too soon?"
He huffs. "Doc said if it's broken again, it will likely be beyond repair. Which means no more boxing and, ideally, no more run-ins with either of the late Vander's children."
Sevika hums at that, which is a distinctly unusual sound from her. He finally turns to her, steely blue eyes locking onto hers. They've worked together through hell and back over the years – decades – and he's learned every tell she has. This was undoubtedly one of them.
"Why are you really here, Sev? Not that I don't enjoy your company, but this doesn't feel like a social visit, and I haven't fought in weeks."
Sevika breaks eye contact, swirling her drink before tossing it back.
"It's time. Jinx is back. She has al of Zaun with her too. The Jinxers, the mobsters, hell, even the firelights. Everyone, working with those stuck-up Piltover dicks to get this new threat out of the city."
Jowler scoffs. "Last year, Jinx was the threat. Next, it'll be one of the chembarons with some terrible new monster or that freak Singed unleashing some sort of hellish concoction. Who gives a shit? I've bled for that girl, and Silco's cause, enough."
Sevika pushes another drink in front of him (when did these even arrive?), taking her own and downing half with a sigh. She won't blame him for wanting to sit this one out. Getting three decimated jaws and a bullet to the stomach tends to sour one's opinions. Unfortunately for him, she's not gonna let him off that easy.
"This isn't like the other times. I've seen what this new threat can do. If we lose, we don't lose Zaun… we lose everything. Everyone. I need people I can trust in a fight, people I know won't run when shit goes sideways. And people who fucking hit hard… gods, we need more of those. You've still got those spiked gloves, right?"
He does still have them - as much as he hates to admit it. Not long after his release from Stillwater, a pair of blue and pink spiked gloves awaited him on his table. There wasn't a note, just a monkey with too sharp teeth drawn in the dust next to them and a frowny face. He wasn't expecting an apology, but it lessened the setback.
He offers Sevika a nod.
Smirking, she throws the rest of the drink back, propping her real hand on the table before him.
"So what'd ya say, Scowler? One last time into the fray?"
He sighs. If he's being honest with himself, his mind was made up the second she asked. They've already been through hell together; what's one more ride? He downs his drink and slams the glass upside down, elbow dropping to the table to match her in a handshake.
"A glass jaw and a lefty walk into a fight…"
She smirks. "And gnash and claw their way to victory."
He smirks. "Just like old times?"
"Yeah. Like old times."
Unsurprisingly, it was not at all like old times. Their usual fights would take place in dirty warehouses, back alleys, or bars. Fighting up polished staircases against an army of highly trained warriors is entirely different.
Sevika hadn't been lying - from Jericho to Alao, the notorious back corner bar haunt, all capable fighters had rallied behind Jinx and the firelights to take these Noxus soldiers down. Gustove lets out a roar as he dodges a nasty swipe from a Noxian guard, delivering a devastating punch to their shield, shattering it, and following up with an equally brutal right hook to their cheek, effectively shattering that too. Having choked out the unfortunate warrior she was fighting, Sevika chuckles as Gustove stands to his full height, cracking his neck.
"Looking good, Scowler. Take a few fighters and get up to the canons; they'll need the assistance, and we need those things back up and running.
She ducks an arrow and blocks another with her arm, yelling as she swings it around to grab the crossbow, crushing it with a smirk. She uses her real hand to knock them out cold. She turns her head. They may actually be dead – although she doesn't care either way. Gustove is watching with a raised eyebrow. "We'll hold it down on this end."
He shakes his head, signaling a few nearby Zionites to join as they go up the stairs. He busts through the doors at the same time that Jinx's hot air balloon floats into the window. When he sees her with yet another minigun, he refuses to repeat history. He grabs a nearby discarded shield, signaling the others to do the same. They brace for a barrage of bullets but are surprised when none come. Gustove, peeking his head out, looks at Jinx – really looks at her – and the difference is night and day. She's got a new haircut, a glint in her eyes that is laser-focused on the Noxian soldiers, and a general aura about her that just feels in control. He hopes that the friendly fire will be at a minimum this time.
Noxian soldiers are everywhere, leaving no shortage of places to jump in. One particular struggle catches his eye, and he jumps in without hesitation, ramming into one soldier with a full-on body slam, taking another out with a spiked knuckle to the stomach and another to the cheek. He offers a hand to the person on the ground, who glares at him with a look that oscillates freely between total shock and open hostility.
"You?!"
Vi looks at the offered hand with the same excitement one would eye a live grenade but accepts it, getting pulled quickly to her feet. She's back in the thick of it immediately, catching a sword in her gauntlet and shattering it before delivering her signature uppercut to its owner. Gustove huffs, shaking his head.
"I see it now… it is entertaining to watch you fight – when you're not the one getting knocked out."
Vi scoffs. "Don't think that just because you're helping now, I 'll forgive you for all you've done."
Gustove laughs, kicking a knocked-over warrior in the ribs before caving their helmet in with a fist. "I wouldn't dream of it, kid. You just keep those oven mitts aimed at the bad guys, and we'll be fine."
She turns to him at that, insults at the ready, but freezes when she notices his gloves. She points a massive gloved finger at him accusingly. "Where did you get those?"
"Where do you think?" He grunts as a particularly beefy soldier brings an arcing strike down against him, causing him to block with both hands, the force sending a jolt of pain through his arms, seemingly all the way through his body and jaw. With a fierce yell he sidesteps the next shot, delivering a few brutal punches to their stomach and an uppercut, eerily similar to the one Vi used against him.
She lets out something near a laugh. He turns at that, eyes questioning as she shakes her head. She's still itching for a fight and pumped up on adrenaline, but whatever initial judgment she had leveled him with, he managed to pass, as it all appears to be directed away from him now. "You used my move."
Gustove snorts. "Had plenty of experience with it. Figured I'd test it out."
They continue to fight side by side for a few minutes longer until another familiar voice calls from behind him.
"Oy! Whisky Boy! Sevika needs you back down there! Move your big bald self!"
Gustove whips around to see Zero standing in the door, wearing a smile too bright and a uniform that's far too attractive to be in the middle of a war. They duck an axe and pull out a crossbow, delivering a lethal shot between one soldier's eyes and using a dagger from their boot to take care of the axe wielder. Some sort of makeshift explosive rolls their way, and they casually kick it toward a group of advancing Noxians, not even bothering to watch as it explodes with devastating effect. They offer a wink to Gustove as they make their way over.
Gustove watches the whole affair with his jaw on the floor, and it's only VI's laugh, an honest one, that snaps him out of it. "Better step to it, lovebird. I'd hate to keep them waiting." He glares at her with no real heat behind it before shaking his head.
"Suppose you're right." He holds out a gloved hand. "Take care up here, mittens. Don't start pulling your punches now."
She shakes her head, knocking one of the gloves against his. "Wouldn't dream of it."
With that, Gustove and Zero take off again, leaving Vi and the others to battle upstairs.
Gustove doesn't exactly know what happened between fighting the machines-like beings and their sudden collapse, but they had won in the end. Fighting faceless creatures was a new level of fear for pretty much everyone, and he was no exception. Zero had fallen to them first, forcing him to watch in horror as their eyes rolled back and silk-like strands connected to their head, making them look more akin to a golden-eyed puppet than a living being. The terrifying nothingness that he felt when they grabbed him is something he's thankful liquor can help him forget, and something that is helping him relax right now as he leans against the side of the bar with a drink in hand.
Sevika, now a council member, shakes her head at him as they recount the other events in the months following the fight, from rebuilding destroyed buildings above ground and below to bringing back IDs and spoken word to the families of the fallen. Sevika had asked him, of all people, to be with her on the council as an advisor, but he politely declined (vehemently, with a shocked laugh), doubling down on stepping back from 'the good fight'. While he may have similar decades of experience within the secret circles of Zauns underground, he is fully ready to leave that part of his life behind. Zero slides up next to him, nudging his shoulder and snatching the drink from his hand, downing it with a wink. He smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of their head. Sevika gags at that, rolling her eyes dramatically.
"Ugh. You two are worse than the Holos. Get a room, nerds."
Zero laughs while Jowler throws a balled-up napkin at her, which she sidesteps with her usual grace, followed up with her usual retort, a middle finger from both hands. Decidedly less graceful.
"I don't recall seeing anyone make you watch, Sev." Besides, we're celebrating!"
Sevika rolls her eyes but smirks, looking around the bar. It had taken a full two months to get the place back in working order, but the Brawlers Tavern was officially open again and doing better than ever. Pictures of some of the city's heroes, alive and past, adorn the walls. A portrait of Jinx, her hair braids on either side like wings, sits between portraits of Vander and Silco. Druval, a father of three who died saving a group of enforcers, has a picture surrounded with flowers and memorabilia right next to Gert, whose headshot lights up the wall with a vibrant smile. A guitar is in a display case next to it, next to a pedestal showcasing Vander's old boxing gloves. Gustove was more than a little surprised (floored, according to Zero) to see Vi again, even more so when she handed them to him, looking around the bar wistfully. "He'd have loved this place," she said to him, offering him a firm handshake and a nod before making her way to the bar, the one-eyed Kiramman at her side. Zero had to elbow him to shake him out of that one, and the bar felt brighter than before with the addition. The two of them come by when they have the time, and have become much friendlier since Sevika's place on the council, and Gustove's involvement in the rebuilding and rescue missions.
Maybe, as he looked out at the bar, occupied by former enforcers, rebels, and mobsters alike, he wasn't so unlucky after all. They had all suffered a magnitude of losses and still had a long way to go, but for once, Gustove Jowler knows precisely where he belongs and what he'll always fight to protect.