Chapter Text
Chapter 1
There was a familiar ache in his knuckles that he had not felt in ages. The bones gave a sharp crack as he flexed his stiff fingers. Pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his waistcoat, Silco set to the tedious task of trying to remove the stains coating his hands. The dry, soft, silk material smeared more than it actually cleaned, but he supposed that is what he gets for choosing sensibility over practicality.
It had been quite a while since he resorted to using his own fists to reaffirm his place as sovereign. Life beneath the Gray was still within its delicate new foundations, the power shift after the unfortunate death of Vander left many attempting to grab at the now vacant positions of control. It was already nearing its two year mark, but the Undercity was still only an infant in its stages of revolutionary change, and there were still plenty of trivial placements that needed to be filled, that many Zuanites had yet to find. But Silco was all too willing to… guide those poor lost souls into their rightful place like a doting shepherd of deplorable sheep.
When one had nearly every ‘muscle for hire’ in the Lanes on their payroll, there were not many reasons to get your own hands dirty. But, Silco supposed, that every once and a while he had to stain his flesh a bit, just to show he still had his touch. That he was not just sitting within the confines of his hard won spoils, whose skeletons clawed at the belly of liquor stained floor boards beneath his feet. He liked to consider himself a man of necessity, going out of his way to reiterate his place amongst the people when the need arose. No sooner. No later. Plus, he could bregudedly admit to himself that he had been getting a bit rusty on the manner of discipline, and a bit soft on the matter of disloyalty.
“Now, I suppose there will be no more…misplacements, in the future” he kept his tone even, rolling down the sleeves of his button up, the dark wine colored viscose far too hard to come by and expensive to clean for it to be splattered in blood stains. His contrasting crimson and icey blue gaze turned to the messy heap on his floor. A bloodied face was lifted his way by the tip of a boot placed beneath a red painted chin, Sevika’s stoney facade never changing. Muddy brown eyes, left side already darkening with slow swelling, locked with the Eye of Zaun.
“N-no, Sir. I p-promise. No-no-nothing else will-will go m-missing” The words were spoken thickly, the clotting in the would have been thieves' nose deforming any previous character in the boy's tone. The Kingpin could hardly call the mess at his feet a man from his sheer lack of decorum in the presence of such a decorous monarch such that he was. The miscreant barely looked to be out of his tweens.
“Good Boy”, an obviously taunting fake smile split the older man's lips as he crouched before the sniveling pile of ragged clothes and most likely one form of disease or another gifted from the poison that layered the Undercity like a blanket.
“I’m so glad we could talk about these issues. I would hate to take a visit to your Mother and Sisters down in the Fissures.” The words were spoken lightly, like Silco was addressing an old friend about one of his pets having been caught in the neighbors flower garden. Mud brown widend despite the near blinded state of his black eye, the boy was quick to shake his head of matted, dirty blond hair frantically, already attempting to adjust himself onto his knees as though he was preparing to beg. The smile faded from half scarred cheeks, eyes rolling as the would-be thief dropped his forehead to the ground, a string of muttered ‘please’ and ‘it will never happen again’ fell from tattered and split lips. Silco straightened from his crouched position, glaring down at the boy as though he were a roach that had scuttled into his glass of finest liquor.
“Get out”. The shift in his voice from the earlier, even though faked, lighter tone was jarring. The unspoken threat that weighted the words were crystal clear and left no room for argument. The sound of scrambling feet, though heavy with the tell-tale signs of a limp, was all that answered him as he turned to stare out the large window taking up decorative refuge behind his desk. The bright, neon glow of the signs and Chemtech lights below from the shops, parlors and emporiums, bled through the panes, coating the room in a sheen of smokey, poison green. The discoloration that saturated the already shadowed edges of Silco’s countenance only grew darker, leading to the illusion of sickly patterns to play across the man's pale, scarred face.
Allowing gravity to take control of his body for the briefest of moments, Silco fell unceremoniously into his high backed chair. The leather crackling and wood creaking from his weight and the years of use it had been put through, but his tired sigh was enough to drown out the sounds. He flexed his fingers as he pulled out a cigar, the digits giving another crack, relieving the pressuring ache for only a moment. Clipping the end of the claro he made a reach for his matches only to have a flame flicker to life in front of his face, the glow illuminating the shine of crimson in his left eye and casting shadow across the lines brought on by exhaustion.
“You’re gettin’ old” there was no cruelty behind the words, only a slight jab at his person edged with a pinch of humor and a smirk that he did not return, nor appreciate. Silco hummed, not denying the statement, however, as he leaned forward, igniting the end of his smoke and taking a deep inhale. Sevika pulled back the lighter and placed it to the tip of her own smaller, much more fragile and handmade cigarette. She sauntered over to the small couch against the wall, settling against the thin cushions with an air of relaxation. Smoke trailed between them, mixing in swirls above their heads like lazy clouds, only adding to the already thick and heavy haze of the room.
Silco released the burning tobacco from his lungs, as if the pollution clogging their blood did not give them reasons to suffocate already. His sights shifted to the mess left on his floor, dirty blond hair matted to an unwashed scalp and frightened brown eyes flashed through his thoughts. The boy had been caught stealing and selling the smaller, less potent variants of Shimmer that Silco’s men had managed to squander up after the explosion. The drug was practically useless with how diluted it was, but it was the principal of the matter that got the kids in trouble. The boy had claimed not to have stolen it originally, but too much evidence was stacked against his fabricated word. It was always the technicalities that slipped people up. The boy needed money, had a family to look after, Silco could respect that and knew the struggles his Zaunites faced day after day. He had crawled from the same sludge in which they lived. He understood the risks needed to survive. But it always came back to the technicalities.
“Send someone after that boy. Make sure he is used as a good example. A pinkie should be enough in case he ever decides to forget our little chat” Silco instructs after a brief but relaxed silence. Sevika gives the man a once over, her features never changing, eyes barely suppressing the thoughts raging inside her head that Silco could never really read. He waits for her to question his command, defy his authority, or speak out on behalf of the boy's reasons. But she simply nods instead as she gets to her feet, face pinching in discomfort as the crudely crafted metal of her left arm gives a painful screech. She rubs at her shoulder beneath her cloak, cigarette clenched between grating teeth.
Silco took another deep drag of his cigar, mud brown shifting to blue in his thoughts. “Have you seen her any today?” the Sovereign asked, as Sevika made for the door, sidestepping the small puddle of blood on the old wooden floor.
“She’s been playing with her toys all day. Honestly surprised the block is still standing” Sevika bit out, the person in question still a sore spot that radiated down the woman's entire left side. Silco could not hold back the slight, amused smirk at the woman's words.
“I wouldn’t call them toys,'' he muses, eyeing the woman's covered arm before turning in his chair to stare at the grime speckled panes of glass behind his desk. Sevika gives a humorless laugh.
“They’re not even close to being as useful as she intends them to be. That one… was a fluke. So I think toys are a good title for a child in over her head” a single glance from a crimson pupil is all the direction Sevika needs to know she can get on with her duties, and she does so gladly, not one to stick around in a place she is no longer needed or wants to be in. Silco takes a deep breath when the door closes with a heavy thud behind the woman's leave, he runs a hand through his slicked back hair, his fingertips drifting to dance softly over the deformity of his left eye, the grooves along his skin never fully dispersing from the tenderness that comes from scar tissue, the heat was faint, but still present around his eye. It gave a pulse, a sharp sting that traveled from the disfigured pupil, all the way into his head and danced along the back edges of his brain. It was not a comfortable experience.
Placing his cigar in the chipped, gray ashtray on his desk, the ‘x’ed out markings making up the eyes of a neon blue smiley face watched him as he dug into the drawer on his right. Jinx had made a game of decorating the smaller objects around the room with her fluorescent works of art, thinking Silco had yet to notice them. Wanting to see how many she could get away with before he stopped her. But he already knew, one did not become the Eye of Zaun by overlooking even the smallest of details. Truthfully, the man, who had more in common with a serrated, rusty knife blade, did not mind the drawings all that much. In all honesty, it livened up his little work place from the usual drab, dark undertones. Silco smiled to himself when he noticed a new face, the wide, sharp toothed grin was painted green and was hidden on the inner leg of his desk. He marked another strike on the note pad sitting within the desk drawer as he pulled the familiar cylindrical needle from the space. That made 15 he had found so far. He made a mental note to be sure and tell her not to mark up his desk too much. It was a very nice desk after all.
The soft glow of Shimmer darkened the bruises along his knuckles as he loaded a new vial in the cartridge. He relaxed himself into his chair, slouched low and legs spread wide to brace the unbalanced weight. An unbecoming position he would not dare be caught in were he in the face of company. He rolled the needle around in his hand, the weight displacing back and forth as the purple liquid inside sloshed from the movement. He was procrastinating, an activity he did not usually partake in but found it hard to resist when it came to such procedures. Taking a few deep breaths that pulled in the lingering smoke from his and Sevika’s shared moment of relaxation, he steadied that slight rise in his heartbeat before raising the cylinder to his eye. The deformed pupil contracted despite being relatively useless in sight, Silco could barely make out the sharp point of the needle as it sat over his eye, it was just a smear of color, the metal a welcoming cold against the edges of his heated eye socket. His thumb trembled the bare slightest, even still after so long, over the trigger. One more deep inhale. He held it till his lungs burned.
His thumb pressed down quickly on the trigger, just as the floorboards beneath his feet gave a hard rumble, the aftershock of an explosion sending vibrations through the entire structure and surprising the Industrialist into a flinch. The needle barely missed its mark, veering from the original target and piercing his cheekbone. He sighed out Jinx’s name in exasperation, rubbing out the now throbbing skin where the needle pierced him as the echo of explosives died down and the shaking in both his feet and hands settled. He placed the needle atop his desk, standing to pour himself a drink, knowing he would need it before inspecting the damage the girl had done to his building this time. He would have to give her credit for not destroying the whole block as Sevika had earlier predicted.
Silco had already drained one glass and had poured a second as the door of his office opened. Bright blue peeked around the wood, scoping around the room for the presence of others before Jinx stumbled inside. Her face, hands and clothes were covered in soot and smoke, the area around her eyes clean from the goggles she must have worn, a surprise to Silco considering her usually reckless behavior. Even her hair had been blown into a wild display, the edges still smoking from their most likely burnt state. She stood in the center of the office, tip of her boot tapping the floor, arm rubbing the other in a nervous manner. Silco stared at the girl for a moment, assessing the damage of her person before returning to his desk.
“Care to explain?” He kept his tone even, not authoritative but nor was it comforting. Jinx bit down on her lip but remained quiet, her gaze drifting everywhere but to Silco.
“Are you hurt?” Silco finally asked, his words softening when he noticed the tears gathering in the corners of the girl's eyes that she was desperately trying to hold back.
“N-no”. Her voice was small, soft and thick with the threat of completely coming undone.
“I-I…don’t know why they won’t work” Silco’s gaze fell to the small metal contraption clenched tightly in Jinx’s fist, she held it so tightly her knuckles were bleeding white. He recognized it as one of her…toys, as Sevika had provided so kindly. It was just as scrapped, dirtied and battered as its creator.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Silco…I-I mess everything up and, and…” and there go the tears. She hiccuped and sniffed, unable to hold back the torrent that poured down her cheeks. Silco could admit that the poor thing was not the prettiest crier. Face full of red blotches, smears of snot on her upper lip and strings of spittle slipping past her chin. The rather distasteful look, however, did little to stop the stoic man's heart from reaching out to comfort and soothe the child. Because she was in fact, still that, a child. One he had literally picked up off the street, shielded from the rain, the corpse of the closest thing she had to a father and the ramaints of an explosion she herself caused. They were reaching the second year anniversary of said explosion, and Jinx was nowhere near being soothed over from the experience, Silco was confident that she never truly would be.
Though he could not blame her. What could be more shattering to the mind of someone so young than knowing you killed the only family you had. To first be ripped away from your parents, then abandoned and left to the wolves by your own sister. Silco knew what that felt like. The deep, twisting ache in your heart and soul, like someone was repeatedly plunging a knife into the very core of your being. That pain never really went away, only dulled to the point one became numb to it. Silco promised himself, and the little girl sobbing in front of him, that he would make it so Jinx would feel that numbing relief faster than he was ever able to.
“Jinx-” he waited until red rimmed blue looked up at him, “come here please”. She hesitated for only a moment, wiping her nose across her sleeve. Silco held back the cringe he wanted to display at her ways of keeping hygiene. Jinx shuffled slowly up to his desk, opting to hop up onto its outward facing edge and simply crawl over top of it, plopping on the other side in front of his chair still refusing to look him fully in the eye. Silco found he did not mind, always entertained by her actions in some form or another. She sniffled again, her earlier attempt to clean the mess on her face did little. Silco reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, the red stains having dried like morbid roses on the delicate silk. He still had the courtesy to fold the fabric away from the blood before he swiped it beneath Jinx’s nose.
“Patience and precision are difficult lessons to learn-” Silco started, replacing the handkerchief with his thumb. Swiping the pad of the appendage over his tongue, he scrubbed gently at Jinx’s cheek in an attempt to rid it of some of the soot, an action he could faintly remember his own mother doing to him when he was but a small boy. There was a brief flash of disgust on her face that amused the man, but it did not push away the still present disappointment and self loathing.
“But…” he moved from the grime on her face, brushing out the wild tresses from their standing-on-end position and combing blue strands behind her ear, lifting her chin so they could see eye to eye.
“You’ll master them”. Silco watched as Jinx’s face scrunched up in anger, her hands curling into deeper fists, the contraption being tossed to the ground in an angry display, Silco silently being glad it was seemingly one of her duds. At this point, he could see the signs of one of her growing episodes. The ones where she lost herself to the loud, corrosive frenzy in her mind, the wild catharsis that left her trembling and confused. Silco hated seeing her like that and they only seemed to be getting more frequent. And far worse. Silco had his suspensions that they were being caused from the nearing date of
that
day. Added to her frustrations at being unable to produce the results she wanted in her inventions, and Silco had a real live time bomb all his own sitting right in front of him.
“But I can’t-” her angry yell was cut off abruptly as Silco thrust his injector into her face, needle facing him, stopping her outburst before it could even begin. That was the best time to do it, if one could be quick enough.
“You can'' he countered firmly, stating it as a fact. “I know you can,” he said more gently, dropping the metal cylinder into Jinx’s smaller hands. Doe-like eyes, as bright as the sky above Piltover stared Silco down with surprise, adortion bleeding into the look. Her eyes always reminded him of the large expanse of blue that sat above the Gray, above the heads of even those Topsider bastards that liked to look down their noses at them. One day. He would watch Jinx rise and touch those skies.
“And we’re going to prove it, Child.” he spoke with an air of finality, relaxing back in his chair, taking a deep breath as he guided Jinx’s needle weighted hand to his eye. He felt her hesitation in the pull back of her wrist. The fear returning to her pools of cerulean. He reassured her with a crooked smile, ironically deforemd by his deformity.
“I need your help with this, Jinx” he once more pulled her hand close to his face, positioning the needle over his eye again, the sharp point nothing more than a blur of color. He could feel the metal shaking against his skin from the girl's tremors of nerves. He released her wrist, but her hand remained in place. Silco reached out and patted the side of her face gently, he felt her lean into the touch.
“I trust you.” he spoke quietly, his gaze looking upward.
The piercing was fast, but it still tore a cry from Silco’s throat as he jolted forward in a hunch, holding his head. The injection sent a wave of sharp pain shooting throughout his head just like the pain of his eye itself would. Silco fell back into his chair once more, chest heaving, tears a mix of blood and Shimmer left a thin trail down his cheek as he stared blurrily at the small loft Jinx had begun decorating in her bright colors and crude drawings. He heard the cylinder fall with a thud against his desk and small arms wrap around his neck as a weight settled in his lap. He pulled Jinx tighter against him in a strong hug. Her small arms tightened as he buried his face in her hair, placing a kiss against the crown of her head.
“We’ll get you what you need. You’re not alone anymore, Jinx” he felt her arms tighten around his neck further, a soft sniff echoing in his ear, followed by a soft “i’m sorry”, the words familiar to the man as ones born from the belief that you were not good enough. Silco held her tighter.
“Don’t worry, Little One. You’re perfect.”
Comic that inspired this chapter. Please give the artist some love!