Chapter Text
The Undercity never slept.
Even at midnight, the Lanes buzzed with life—neon signs flickering through toxic fog, music spilling from open windows, people shouting over one another in crowded alleyways. But beneath all the grime and chaos, there was warmth too.
Especially in the old workshop beneath the Last Drop.
“Ekko, give it BACK!”
“Make me!”
A twelve-year-old Powder launched herself across the room, nearly knocking over a pile of scrap metal while Ekko darted away laughing, holding one of her monkey-bomb prototypes above his head.
“You’re too slow!”
“I’ll blow you up!”
“You say that every day!”
Vi leaned against the doorway watching them with crossed arms and a grin. “One day she actually will, genius.”
“Worth it,” Ekko replied instantly.
Powder finally tackled him into the floorboards, both of them laughing breathlessly while Mylo groaned dramatically from nearby.
“They’re disgusting.”
Claggor snorted. “You’re just mad because nobody likes you enough to tackle you.”
“I’d rather die.”
“You almost cried when that girl smiled at you yesterday,” Vi added.
“I DID NOT.”
Vander’s laughter rumbled from upstairs.
For a moment, everything felt perfect.
And for Powder, it was.
Because she had a family.
Not by blood, maybe—but in every way that mattered.
Vander taught her how to fix things without rushing.
Claggor carried her on his shoulders when she got tired.
Mylo insulted her inventions constantly but secretly helped test them anyway.
Vi protected her from everyone and everything.
And Ekko…
Ekko was just always there.
Running beside her through the Lanes.
Building gadgets together.
Falling asleep shoulder-to-shoulder in the workshop after staying awake too late drawing impossible inventions.
He understood her brain better than anyone else.
“You think too loud,” he’d tell her sometimes.
“You listen too hard,” she’d shoot back.
Then he’d grin.
And she’d grin too.
Because with him, she never felt strange.
—
But growing up changes people.
Especially in Zaun.
By fifteen, Powder wasn’t really Powder anymore.
Not fully.
She started calling herself Jinx after Mylo sarcastically muttered it during a failed invention explosion.
“You’re a jinx, Powder.”
The name stuck harder than anyone expected.
At first, it was harmless.
Then it became something else.
Jinx grew sharper over the years.
Moodier.
Restless.
She hated being treated like a child while everyone still looked at Vi like she could do no wrong.
Vi became stronger, respected.
Ekko became a leader among the Firelights.
And Jinx?
People still saw the messy little girl with blue braids and unstable gadgets.
Even Vander started worrying.
“You need to slow down,” he told her one night after she’d nearly blown up half the workshop.
“I had it handled.”
“You almost lost your hand.”
“But I DIDN’T.”
Her temper got worse after that.
So did the fights.
Especially with Vi.
“You don’t listen!”
“Because you don’t trust me!”
“We trust you when you stop acting insane!”
The word hung in the room.
Silence.
Vi immediately regretted it.
Jinx stared at her like she’d been slapped.
Ekko stepped between them carefully. “Guys—”
“No,” Jinx muttered. “No, it’s fine.”
But it wasn’t.
After that, she stopped talking as much.
Stopped laughing as loudly.
Started disappearing for hours alone.
Started smoking occasionally with older Zaunites.
Drinking too.
Nothing heavy at first.
Just enough to quiet her head.
Ekko noticed before anyone else.
He found her sitting on rooftops at night staring into nothing.
Found empty bottles hidden beneath her mattress.
Found burn marks on her arms she claimed were “accidents.”
“You’re scaring me,” he admitted quietly one evening.
Jinx looked away.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I said I’m fine.”
But her voice cracked.
Ekko reached for her hand.
She let him hold it for exactly three seconds before pulling away.