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The soft blink of blue light was almost comforting, Jinx thought, her fingers trembling as they cradled the bomb in her pale hands. The steady pulse of the Hextech gemstone glowed like a heartbeat, like the one she used to have. It thrummed with a cruel kind of serenity, humming beneath her fingertips like it knew what it was about to do.
The gemstone was the perfect power source for this. Of course it was. Clean. Efficient. Beautiful. Poetic, really.
Everything in her life - all the ruin, the fire, the screaming - had begun with those stones. And now it would end with one, too. A full-circle tragedy, or comedy from a certain angle.
It really was almost funny, in that bitter, dry-throat kind of way. Funny how something so small, so polished and pristine, could be the cause of so much devastation.
Mylo… Claggor… Vander…
Gone. Snatched away by her hands, by her mistake. She had been a stupid, reckless kid with wild eyes and dreams of being helpful in those bad moments. She used to think she had a chance. A chance at doing more than just cowering in fear. Like Vi had always told her…
But Vi left her. For a damn good reason too. She’d been jinxed too if she’d stayed…
Jinx. That name had never been a joke, never just a simple insult. No, it was a curse. And it was true. Silco proved that just as well.
Silco…. That one... that one was on her. No Hextech to blame, no wild accident or unlucky twist of fate. Just her, a gun, and a crack in the world that never healed right. Still, she found herself pointing a shaking finger back at the stone. Maybe if Hextech hadn’t existed, things would’ve gone differently. Maybe if Piltover hadn’t been so obsessed with progress...
Then…
Then maybe Isha would still be here. Maybe Vander-not-Vander would still be grumbling with that strange beast-like sound he made
But she’d jinxed it. Like always. Just like she’s always jinxed it.
Jinx. Jinx. Jinx.
Her eyes, once electric with chaos, now dulled to a soft pink, hovered over the monkey head she’d fastened to the grenade. It stared back at her, cartoonish and grotesque. A twisted echo of the days when her mischief was harmless, when the worst thing she did was smear paint on walls abd flip off enforcers with Ekko.
Now there was no laughter. Not anymore.
She hadn’t laughed since Isha died.
Since Isha threw herself in front of her, pulling that stupid gun out from nowhere. How she’d gotten a hold of three whole Hextech gemstones was beyond her. The kid knew what she was doing, knew the consequence of her action…
Why? Why her?
Jinx wasn’t worth that kind of sacrifice. Isha had been light and soft where Jinx was all edges, warm where Jinx only burned. She was the only one who saw Jinx and didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to fix her. Just stayed.
And Jinx had let her die.
Her thumb brushed against the cool metal of the pin. Just a twitch. A flick. That’s all it would take. One final spark. One last explosion to light up the dark.
It would be easy.
So easy.
This world... this world was a wasteland. A broken machine still pretending to function. A place where nothing could grow, no matter how hard anyone tried.
She could end it here. On her terms.
Finally…
Her metal finger tapped softly against the side of the grenade, a cold clink that echoed too loud in the silence. She tightened her grip around the pin, the steel digits trembling with the hesitation her heart couldn't voice.
This was it.
The end she deserved. The one that had been chasing her since the day her family died by her hands. Since the day her name became a curse whispered through bloodied lips.
She let her eyes flutter shut, lashes damp as tears slipped free, trailing silently down the grime-streaked curve of her cheeks. The world around her fell away - no more sirens, no more memories, no more voices.
Just her. Just the bomb. Just the quiet.
Her breath caught in her throat as her finger twitched.
And then, slowly but still deliberately…
She pulled the pin.
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Ekko wasn't entirely sure what he was doing as he flew through the tangled veins of Zaun's streets, his hoverboard thrumming beneath him like a second heartbeat. He had just returned from the alternate universe - hard to believe - where life had been softer. Kinder. It had been better. Saying goodbye would have hurt, and awkwardness would have mingled with his emotions, shadows of what could have been. But he was happy that he did at least get to see her before he got transported back.
Now here he was, racing through his own universe, where Zaun lay in ruins in comparison. He knew he wanted to find her, find Jinx, but for what purpose, he didn’t know yet.
Really, he should’ve gone to his friends. To the Firelights. They’d probably been worried sick. Hell, he didn’t even know how much time had passed. But all he could think about was her. He had once given up on her, which had turned out to be a grave mistake. Now it was just a question of what kind of person she had become in his absence.
As his heart raced, he recalled the city murals of Jinx splashed across concrete walls and rusted metal, crude with rebellious slogans scrawled beside her. They painted her as some kind of street-born symbol, a beacon of hope, which was unfathomable when he considered the chaos she had once wrought. She was like… a symbol of the fractured dreams of Zaun, representing both a chaotic past and a flicker of hope that perhaps redemption was still possible.
A symbol.
Ekko clenched his jaw. As much as he wanted to believe that, it just didn’t make any sense. He wanted to give Jinx more chances now, but the thought of her meaning this much to the Undercity was strange. Ekko found it unbelievable, really. Jinx... the Jinx... could she really be a symbol of hope? It felt surreal, as if he were grasping at smoke. That didn’t sound like her. Not the Jinx he remembered.
… Unless something huge really had happened.
And if she had changed... maybe she would be easier to reach. Easier to talk to so they could fix the thing that broke between them. Build something new.
When he arrived back into his own world, he hadn’t known where to begin. That was until he remembered the other Powder’s hideout - that little workshop she’d tucked away inside the belly of a giant fan. If that version of her had found a space there, maybe his Jinx had done the same.
Ekko banked a sharp turn, urgency clawing at him, metal rails screeching under his board as he propelled himself through the narrow alleys, the weight of what lay ahead heavy in his chest. People looked up, some ducking, some just staring, but he didn’t stop.
He was close now. Just a few more turns.
The entrance came into view, nearly identical to the one in the alternate world. It was way more hidden, he’d have to say, but not to him.
He didn’t hesitate as he approached. He dropped off his board, slipping inside like a shadow, every step echoing with urgency.
And just after a few more turns into the cramped cave, he saw the workshop, a riot of colors and mismatched textures, the air thick with the scent of rust and machine oil, strewn with half-finished gadgets waiting for a spark of life. It looked the same, and yet it didn’t. This place had no railings, no safety and of course, it was a lot more chaotic with color. Still, it hit him hard, the familiarity of it. For a heartbeat, he let himself hope.
But then his eyes drifted… and his heart stopped.
Jinx stood on one of the massive fan blades, her silhouette sharp against the hazy glow of blue light. Hextech, he realized. The Hextech glow from what looked like a grenade in her hand pulsed like a warning. Her figure was still. Her face unreadable.
And then her fingers moved.
She pulled the pin.
“Shit-!”
Ekko’s body moved before his mind caught up. Instinct took over as his hand shot to the Z-Drive’s ripcord. The world lurched around him, time folding in on itself.
Four seconds rewound.
Another chance.
Time unraveled with a sickening elegance.
The blast rewound in slow motion, colors dragging like oil on water. Shards of glowing debris floated backward through the air, sparks flaring and retreating, smoke curling in reverse as the explosion folded inward.
And Jinx… gods, Jinx-
Her body was reconstructing before his eyes. Limbs reknitting. Flesh reforming. Bones pulling themselves out of the dust. The sight made his stomach twist, a mix of horror and helplessness washing over him as he struggled to comprehend the reality before him. It was grotesque, unnatural, twisting his stomach into knots; witnessing her body forcibly reconstructing felt like a cruel mockery of life itself.
He knew he’d never forget such a horrible sight.
As the rewind ended with a final pulse of blue light, time snapped back into motion.
Ekko surged forward, boots slamming against metal. "Wait!" he shouted, hand outstretched. But it was too late. Again. The click of the pin being pulled echoed like a death knell. Another bloom of fire. Another instant of obliteration. Jinx disappeared in a flash of blue and white, and his heart shattered with it. "No-!" he choked, already yanking the Z-drive cord. Four seconds. Third chance. He landed back in that cursed moment, body jolting with déjà vu, eyes locking on the fan blade, locking on her.
Again, he watched her rebuild.
The raw, silent agony etched in her face mid-explosion. It was worse this time, and Ekko felt bile rising in his throat as he watched the raw agony etched in her face mid-explosion. His knees buckled slightly at the sight, bile rising in his throat.
Still, he didn’t stop.
He dropped his hoverboard mid-stride, crashing it into the railing to shave off milliseconds. He launched himself downward, faster this time. Closer.
“Jinx, wait!” he screamed, voice cracking.
This time, her head twitched.
She had actually heard him.
A flicker of movement in her neck, like she was turning toward the sound. For a breathless second, he thought that maybe she just might-
But her fingers didn’t stop.
They clenched tighter.
And the pin came loose.
She didn’t scream as the grenade took her. Didn’t cry. Just looked… tired.
Gone. Again.
Fuck!
Another pull on the Z-drive. Another sickening rewind. The universe hiccupped, spit him back out into hell.
Fourth chance.
How many more could he take?
How many more times could he endure this torment of watching her die, before the very essence of his hope shattered into irreparable pieces?
His breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts, panic spiraling as he struggled to grasp the gravity of each moment, each failure weighing heavily on his heart.
How do I stop her? How the hell do I stop her?
Despite time rewinding again and again, the tears in his eyes never reset. Never dried out.
They welled up in his eyes, burning hot. Even as the world around him snapped back into place with each Z-drive pulse. He was crying before he hit the ground. Crying as he ran. Crying as he watched her die. Over and over.
But he kept on trying. Again…
And again…
… And again…
…… And again…
……… And again.
Time had stopped feeling like anything real. Just a loop, just a torment machine that dragged him back through the same four seconds like a punishment. The same glowing fan blade. The same desperate shout. The same soft flick of her fingers. The same explosion. It was like being stuck in a nightmare with no way to wake up.
Each attempt was different. Each one worse.
Sometimes he tripped on the stone floor, skin scraping raw as he scrambled up, only to see her vanish before he could get the word “wait” out.
Other times, he was too slow, his hand reaching out just as the grenade flared in her palm, the light swallowing her before he could even breathe her name.
Once, he’d almost touched her. He had felt the static off her skin, but she still pulled the pin, eyes glazed and far away, like he wasn’t even there. That time he’d pulled the ripcord miraculously fast.
And sometimes... he couldn’t move at all.
The exhaustion caught up with him. The rewinds weren’t free, it seemed. His body was fraying from overuse, muscles screaming from the trauma of watching her die.
But he kept going.
He had to, didn’t he?
He screamed her name until his voice cracked, until blood rose in his throat. He begged her, pleaded with her, sobbed so hard he couldn’t see. And still, she detonated. As if fate had already made up its mind.
And then… he collapsed.
His legs finally gave out, crumpling beneath him like wet paper. His hands shook violently as Ekko hit the metal fan opposite Jinx that he had barely managed to get on, his chest heaving for air. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, each one stabbing his lungs like knives. His fingers fumbled toward the Z-drive, but it felt miles away.
Everything ached. Everything burned. Every second he had was spent. And just as it seemed all calm around him, an all too familiar sound echoed in his ears
Click.
His blood froze.
That sound… the grenade.
His head snapped up, eyes wide and wild, but he couldn’t move. His limbs refused. His body had given up before his heart had.
He tried to reach. Tried to scream. Tried anything.
But his body stayed still as the blast bloomed again, that cruel blue light washing over everything in a blinding wave.
And then? Utter silence.
Four seconds passed.
Too late.
He stifled a cry as the realization hit him. He’d failed.
Despite the fire tearing through his throat, Ekko let out a guttural, broken scream. It wasn’t just grief - it was rage. Desperation. A final cry against the universe itself.
The fan beneath him groaned in protest, metal shrieking as the explosion's shockwave rippled through the structure. It began to shake violently, bolts popping loose, sparks spitting from overworked circuits. The whole thing had likely been holding on by a thread already, but now, even that was gone.
Somehow, from a place beyond pain, beyond exhaustion, he found the strength to lurch backwards. His muscles screamed, bones grinding like rusted gears, but he pushed himself clear just in time. The massive fan structure gave one last shudder, then tore free from its hinges and collapsed into the abyss below with a deafening sound that echoed for what felt like forever.
The tears didn’t stop. They streamed down his cheeks, warm and constant, tracing paths through grime and soot. His trembling hand ran through his now-loosened dreads, the strands falling limply between his fingers. Ekko looked around through blurred vision searching for something, but almost every sign that Jinx had been here had vanished in the blast.
No, wait, there was a few scattered, half-burnt drawings still clung to the walls, curled at the edges. A tent sat collapsed on the far side of the platform, its fabric torn and flapping weakly in the wind like a dying flag.
That was all that was left of her…
He rolled over, face twisting in grief, and slammed his fist into the rocky ground beneath him. The impact jolted up his arm, sharp and unforgiving, but he didn’t stop. He hit it again, each strike fueled by grief, until blood bloomed across his knuckles and the skin split open in angry lines.
But he didn’t care. He just couldn’t care. Not when the girl he’d hoped to save just hours - had it really been hours?! - ago.
How could it end like this?
The question flared in his mind like a dying star, too painful to hold, too heavy to even shape into words.
As the weight of every failed attempt crashed down on him, his body finally surrendered to the relentless toll.
The toll of everything - of rewinding time, of running on fumes, of heartbreak and horror and helplessness - came crashing down at once. His limbs went numb. His breath hitched. The world spun and narrowed, blurring into a haze of pain and loss.
His eyes fluttered, unable to stay open.
And Ekko slipped into unconsciousness, the cold floor beneath him the only thing that caught him as he fell.
A silent collapse, into darkness deeper than the pit below.