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"Yo, Little Cupcake, you bailed me out again. Not bad, that's real nice of you."
Vi, looking like she'd just been released from a spa rather than a high-security cell, affectionately slung a heavy arm around Caitlyn's shoulder. Lady Kiramman, standing just a few paces behind them, cleared her throat with the force of a landslide. Caitlyn stiffened, whispering urgently into Vi's ear, "My mother is right there."
Vi jumped as if she'd been hit by an Electrocute proc. She immediately let go, stealing a glance at the Councillor. They are definitely related, Vi thought, noting the shared sharp gaze. Cut from the same expensive silk.
Vi gave a stiff, awkward bow. "Ma… Auntie, hello."
Lady Kiramman didn't offer a smile. Her gaze was as cold as a Freljordian winter. "We need your testimony to bury Silco for Shimmer smuggling and Marcus for treason. If you don't agree, the Warden is more than happy to show you back to your room."
She didn't bother with pleasantries. To her, Vi was just another symptom of the Undercity's sickness—a prisoner and a pawn. Vi's knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists. She remembered her own vow: One day, this city will look up to us. But she held back. Impulsiveness had cost her three years of her life; she wasn't going to throw away her shot now. She nodded solemnly.
"Caitlyn, can you keep her in line? I have a web of nobles to navigate if we're going to make this stick," Lady Kiramman said, glancing at her watch. The politics of Piltover were a game of inches, and she was already several moves ahead.
"I've got her, Mother," Caitlyn assured her.
The moment the Councillor was out of earshot, Vi practically exploded with nervous energy. "Little Cupcake, listen! Powder is my sister. I should have told you, I just… I couldn't. She was at the Hexgates, yeah, but they were trying to stop Silco! Is she okay? I watched her take those hits and I—I thought she was gone."
Caitlyn watched Vi's frantic gesticulating, finding the tough brawler's sudden vulnerability almost endearing. A small smile played on her lips. "She's fine, Vi. She's back in Zaun. Actually, I'll let you call her right now."
"What's a 'call'?" Vi blinked.
"I'll explain later. Chen—the strategist who saved her—is more capable than he looks. He set up a link."
In the Firelight hideout, Jinx was huddled over a bulky, improvised radio-phone, clutching her old stuffed rabbit. She was swaying back and forth, her eyes fixed on the receiver like a predator watching a burrow.
"Why haven't they called back yet?! It's been forever!"
Chen, leaning against a crate of scrap, groaned. "You've been staring at that thing all day. You've said that exactly three hundred and twenty-seven times."
Ding-a-ling-ling!
Jinx moved with a speed that blurred the air—a literal Get Excited! proc triggered by pure adrenaline. Before the first ring finished, she had the receiver to her ear.
"Hello? Hello! It's me!"
"Powder? Is that you?" Vi's voice crackled through the static, sounding thick with emotion.
"Vi! It's me!"
"Are you okay? The blood, the Enforcers… I thought…"
"I'm fine! Perfectly fine. Chen saved me again, hehe. He's like my personal Guardian Angel item."
"That's good. Powder, I need to tell you—I never meant to leave you that night. I was caught, I was—"
"I know! Chen told me! It was all Marcus's fault!"
The conversation didn't stop there. Hours bled into each other. Chen sat on the floor, his head resting against the wall, nearly drifting off to sleep while the sisters talked about everything and nothing. They covered three years of trauma in twenty minutes and then spent the next three hours talking about… food.
"Chen took me to eat all these fancy Topside birds, but I still miss Gromp stew," Jinx chirped.
"Right?!" Vi shouted from the other end. "I've been saying Gromp is the best in the world for years!"
Chen covered his ears with a pillow. How can they talk for this long? It's been five hours! Still, a part of him was relieved. The sisters were healing. Jinx wasn't a "Loose Cannon" at the moment; she was just a girl talking to her sister. The "Jinx" was still there—smart, chaotic, and slightly off-kilter—but the madness had been dampened by the sound of a familiar voice.
While the sisters reconciled, the atmosphere in the Undercity was turning toxic in a different way. Under Chen's deliberate "Information Warfare" campaign, the news of the Firelight victory had spread like a virus. More importantly, everyone knew Janna had returned.
For the oppressed, it was hope. For the Chem-Barons, it was a threat to their bottom line.
In a boardroom thick with green haze, Finn—a baron with a roguish sneer and a mechanical jaw—slammed his foot onto a chair. "Enough! Silco promised us the world, and all we've got is a bunch of kids on hoverboards ruining our shipments!"
"And now this 'Goddess' nonsense," another baron hissed. "The workers won't go into the mines. They're too busy praying for a breeze. Our income is in the gutter!"
Finn narrowed his eyes. "He's losing control. Maybe it's time for a change in management."
The door hissed open. Silco walked in, his presence immediately dropping the temperature of the room. He was carrying a heavy iron box, followed closely by Sevika.
"What's so urgent that we're wasting time with a committee meeting?" Silco asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
"This!" Finn shouted, gesturing to the window. "Ever since you started this war with the Firelights, we've lost money, we've lost men, and now we're losing the hearts of the people to some ancient fairy tale! How do you plan to resolve this, Silco?"
Silco set the iron box on the table with a heavy, metallic thud. He exchanged a cold look with Finn, a slow, predatory smile creeping across his face. He didn't look like a man who was losing control. He looked like a man who had just finished building a better trap.
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