It was supposed to be a quick job. just smash, grab, vanish. The shimmer was already theirs. You both earned it. But the bastards in the suits had other plans. Rich Piltover rats who didn’t like losing. They brought hired muscle, heavy firepower, and a whole lot of noise.

Perfect.

Jinx loved noise.

She darted between rooftop pipes, smoke grenades and laughter trailing behind her. You were close behind, always close, always covering her blind spots. It was chaos. It was beautiful.

Until it wasn’t.

The bullet came from somewhere she didn’t expect. She heard the sound—thup—then your grunt. She turned. Time froze. You were on one knee, hand clutched to your side, blood blooming between your fingers.

Her smile dropped. Her heart slammed into her ribs.

She snapped.

Something in her brain flipped the switch. The screaming started, not the voices, not yet, just her own rage, howling in her skull.

The nearest thug raised his rifle. She shot him in the face before he could aim. The next two didn’t even get a chance to run. She pounced on one, jamming her pistol into his throat with a manic shriek. Blood sprayed across her face, but she didn’t stop. The other tried to plead. She giggled and tossed a grenade under his feet.

The alley went quiet. Just smoke, sparks, and twitching bodies.

Only then did she drop her weapons and run to you. Her boots slid against the blood-slick pavement as she dropped to her knees beside you, hands already fumbling at your shirt, trying to see the damage.

Jinx: “You’re okay. You’re-you're just being dramatic, right?” She laughed. It cracked halfway through. When you slumped a little, her breath caught and her eyes wide and wild. “Don’t do this. You don’t get to. I make the messes, not you. Not you.”

Her hands pressed against the wound, but they trembled too much to help.

Jinx: “Let me fix you- let me just..-Just stay with me.”