On the second floor of the Last Drop, Sevika looked at Silco. She hesitated, then spoke. "No. We still haven't found her."
"Then why are you here?" Silco asked calmly, cigar between his fingers.
"I'm saying… wouldn't it be better this way?" Sevika said. She continued explaining to Silco, "She… sneaks out all the time. This is the same. When it's time, she'll come back on her own, won't she?"
Silco shook his head, picked up a folder from the side, and tossed it to Sevika.
"This time is different."
Sevika didn't even look at it—because she already knew what had happened.
A building in Topside had exploded. Six Enforcers were dead. Someone had to take responsibility for that.
Those weren't ordinary people—they were Enforcers. And Topside didn't need to "use their brains"; even the ones who didn't would still throw the blame straight down into the Undercity.
Jinx disappearing was, in a way, a good thing. It prevented the Enforcers from finding that madwoman if they searched the Last Drop. And, on a more personal level for Sevika, Jinx leaving the Lanes was also a good thing—because she was a walking problem. With her around, nothing ever went smoothly.
So Sevika said, "It's perfect timing."
"Perfect timing?" Silco's hand hit the desk with a heavy thunk. He looked at Sevika, his face cold, and asked evenly, "Tell me—what do you mean by perfect timing?"
"She's not here. If Topside comes to investigate, they won't find anything. That—" Sevika started, stumbling over the explanation.
"The fact that she's not here is the worst part." Silco cut her off, one hand bracing his forehead as he continued, "Don't worry. I've handled it. Marcus dealt with it. It was an accident."
"An accident?"
"Six Enforcers die and you call it an accident?"
Silco lifted his head and stared at Sevika. "If not, then why did I lift him up? Why did I cooperate with him?"
"…" Sevika fell silent.
"Keep looking," Silco said. "Until you bring her back."
"Understood."
Sevika turned, pushed the door open, and left.
Alone in the room, Silco smoked, exhaling rings toward the ceiling. In the past, he would always see a hint of blue up there—long braids drooping down, swaying like willow fluff in the wind.
But now there was nothing.
In a murmured voice, Silco said to himself, "This is the longest you've ever run away from home."
"It's been three days."
Before, when Jinx ran away, she usually came back that night… or at dawn the next day. But this time, it had been three days. Jinx had never stayed away from him this long, and it made Silco restless.
————
Stillwater Hold.
A tall woman walked up to the Warden. Facing a man built like a wall, she took a deep breath and forced down her unease.
"Hm?"
"I'm Enforcer Caitlyn," the woman in a long coat said. "Here are my papers."
"What is it?"
"I want to speak with one of your prisoners."
"Speak?" The Warden snorted. "My prisoners don't like talking."
Caitlyn paused, then said, "He was beaten by his accomplices. He has to have something to say. He was brought in today."
The Warden's eyes shifted. He lowered his head slightly. "Oh. Prisoner 2135. I know. But… you might not be able to see him."
Caitlyn's voice sharpened. "Why?"
"Something happened," the Warden said.
"What happened?"
"Just… something. Not good."
————
Stillwater Hold, Underground Level 43.
Caitlyn took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator.
The moment she did, she heard a dull, heavy sound. Following it, she walked forward.
Boom.
Closer now, she could tell what it was—the sound of fists slamming into a wall.
Then she saw someone inside a cell, back turned to her, repeatedly punching the wall.
Under the corridor's dim lighting, Caitlyn saw a number.
[516]
Prisoner 516.
How long had she been in here?
Caitlyn couldn't help thinking: 516 was far too low. The one who'd just gotten in today was 2135. So—
The woman in the cell noticed Caitlyn too. She turned around, revealing a beautiful face. Messy pink hair fell in strands over her brow, partially shadowing her eyes. Beneath her left eye, a bold VI was tattooed.
"Who are you?" the woman asked.
"Caitlyn," Caitlyn replied.
"Hm?" The woman paced inside her cell.
Caitlyn opened the Stillwater file and continued, "I read your record. There's nothing—no personal details, no prior charges. Why are you in prison?"
"Because I'm too cheerful," the woman said, suddenly sweeping past the bars right in front of Caitlyn, making her flinch.
Caitlyn steadied herself and pressed, "You beat a prisoner who arrived today. 2135. Why?"
"Can't I beat him?"
"We're investigating a case," Caitlyn said. "He's the only witness."
The woman lowered her head, shrugged, and said, "Wow. That's boring."
Seeing that the woman wouldn't give a straight answer no matter what, Caitlyn sighed, turned, and started to leave. "What a waste of time."
"Yeah, no kidding."
"Hey." The woman's voice followed her. "Tell that one-eyed bastard Silco I said hi."
Caitlyn stopped, confusion flickering across her face. She returned to the cell, looking at the woman inside as she rolled her shoulders, and asked, "Silco… the Undercity industrialist?"
"Industrialist?" The woman froze, raised an eyebrow, then waved it off. "Whatever. I'm not wasting my breath on you."
"Do me a favor and throw whoever wants to hit me in here. Let me enjoy myself tonight."
Caitlyn went quiet for two seconds. She felt like the woman had completely misunderstood her.
A newly arrived prisoner. An "industrialist" who controlled the Undercity. The woman's words. And Caitlyn's own suspicion that Zaun's gangs were being directed by someone in the shadows…
When she connected it all, Caitlyn's body shivered. Something clicked.
She stepped forward, closer to the bars, opened her folder, and held it up toward the woman inside.
"Do you recognize this?"
The woman's attitude had been indifferent, barely paying attention. But the moment she glanced at the page and saw the photo—marked with a monkey graffiti symbol—she surged forward, bright blue eyes locking onto Caitlyn as she shouted,
"Where did you get that?"
————
Zaun. The Lanes.
Logan looked at his house—now completely covered in graffiti—and the walls painted with huge monsters and a monkey warrior. His mouth twitched.
"Jinx… where did you even get that much paint?"
"Paint?" Jinx, barefoot and standing on the table while she worked on her masterpiece, glanced back at Logan and flashed him a huge grin.
"A kind person gave it to me," she said.
Logan couldn't even be bothered to complain anymore.
A "kind person."
As in… a kind person with a gun pressed to their head?
How very kind.
He just stood there with his arms crossed, watching Jinx work.
And honestly—
Her paintings really were pretty good.