Kaen Vexis was sitting on the edge of a rusted rooftop, legs dangling over an alley where two cats were fighting over a chunk of something that probably wasn't food. The sky above Zaun was a blend of fog and smoke, with a greenish glow that made everything look like it came out of a post-apocalyptic Instagram filter. In his hands, he held a dented can he'd found in the trash, trying to crush it with his fingers to test how strong this new body of his was.
"C'mon, protagonist body, don't fail me now," he muttered, voice as flat as if he were reading a microwave manual. He squeezed, and the can crunched like foil, folding instantly. Kaen blinked, face blank, but raised the crushed can like a trophy. "Well, that was ridiculously easy. What else can I do?"
He stood up, wobbling a bit because, even though his body was a perfect machine, his coordination was still that of someone who used to trip over his own feet in his past life. He looked around for something else to experiment with. Down in the alley, there was a pile of pipes stacked together, some as thick as his arm. "Perfect," he said, jumping off the roof with the grace of a cat that slightly misjudged the distance.
He landed with a dull thud, knees absorbing the impact effortlessly. "That… didn't hurt," he murmured, surprised. In his previous life, a jump like that would've had him limping for a week. He walked over to one of the pipes, grabbed it with both hands, and pulled, expecting it to bend a little. Instead, he yanked it from the ground like it was a twig, sending a stream of greenish liquid spraying into the air. Kaen froze, pipe held up high as the liquid splashed onto his jacket.
"…Whoops," he said, voice flat but hands gesturing like he was in a slapstick comedy. "This is a little stronger than I expected. Am I Superman?" He tossed the pipe aside, and it clanged against a wall loud enough to send the alley cats fleeing. Kaen scratched his head, looking at the mess. "Singed, buddy, what the hell did you pump into my veins?"
The tingle of Shimmer in his blood was there—like a battery humming under his skin. He decided to try something else: speed. He ran toward the end of the alley, feet light but fast, and before he knew it, he was already on the other side, nearly crashing into a junk stall someone had left behind. He stopped, breathing lightly, his face just as expressionless as ever. "I'm fast. Strong, fast, and…" He caught his reflection in a piece of scrap metal. "Ridiculously handsome. This is a winning combo."
But none of that solved his most urgent problem: he was broke as hell, and his stomach had been growling for hours. "I need a plan," he muttered, walking toward a busier street. "Something to get gears fast. Stealing? Nah, too cliché. A job? Meh, sounds boring." Then his violet eyes lit up as he spotted a group of thugs playing dice in a corner. "Oh, perfect opportunity."
He walked up with a confidence that bordered on absurd, his face still blank but his gestures theatrical—like he was about to sell them the Eiffel Tower. "Gentlemen," he said, monotone voice making them all look at him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "Care to win big? I have a proposal that will change your lives."
One of the thugs, a guy with a mechanical arm that looked like it weighed more than Kaen himself, growled. "And who the hell are you, boy?"
Kaen placed a hand on his chest like a slick merchant. "I'm a visionary, my friend. Listen—bet your gears against my… talent. If you win, you take it all. If I win, you make a small donation to my food-and-electric-bass fund."
The thugs exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. "Is this guy nuts or what?" said another with a scar cutting across his face. But they agreed, because in Zaun, boredom was more dangerous than a conman with a poker face.
Kaen had no idea how to play dice, but his logic was simple: if his body was a biological cheat code, maybe he could improvise. He rolled the dice with an exaggerated flourish like he was in a Vegas casino, and somehow landed a decent result. The thugs grumbled but kept playing, betting more gears. Kaen, with his deadpan face and flat tone, taunted them with absurd remarks. "C'mon guys, these dice like me better. It's my natural charisma."
To his surprise, he won three rounds in a row—probably because the thugs were too busy laughing at his antics to focus. He scooped up a handful of gears, feeling like king of the world—until an imposing shadow loomed over him.
"What do we have here?" said a deep voice, like someone had mixed gravel with whiskey. Still crouched, Kaen glanced over his shoulder and looked up—only to find a towering woman approaching. She was tall, with a mechanical arm glowing with a faint purple light. Her face was hard, with a crack-like scar glowing faint blue across her left cheek, and her eyes scanned Kaen like he was either a threat or a cockroach.
Kaen, true to character, didn't even flinch. "Oh, hey, Terminator arm lady. Just doing some honest business," he said, voice monotone while rubbing his hands together like a busted street hustler caught mid-scam. He held up the gears with a dramatic flair. "Look, I'm an entrepreneur."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Honest business? These guys work for me. And I don't like it when people scam them." Her mechanical arm hummed, like it was ready to flatten him.
Kaen blinked. "Scam? Such an ugly word. This was a cultural transaction. They gambled, I won. Capitalism, you know?" He gave a helpless shrug that only seemed to irritate her more.
"This guy scammed us, Sevika! Look at his face—it screams cheater!"
One of the thugs shouted indignantly, but Sevika shut him up with a glare. Then she stepped closer to Kaen, her mechanical arm still humming ominously.
Kaen placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "My face? This masterpiece doesn't lie. It's pure beauty." But before he could continue, Sevika grabbed him by the collar with her human hand and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
"I don't like your attitude, kid," she growled, pulling him closer. "Give the gears back, or my arm's gonna have a little chat with you."
Kaen, dangling like a cat by the scruff, kept his blank expression. "Whoa, whoa, no need for violence. How about I treat you to some skewers with these gears? Peace, love, fried food." His violet eyes shimmered with mischief, like he wasn't a second away from getting flattened.
Sevika narrowed her eyes, and without letting go, shoved him against a brick wall, her arm humming louder as it prepped to strike.
Before the punch could land, the Shimmer in Kaen's veins surged—his reflexes moved before his brain did. He slipped free, ducking as Sevika's arm slammed into the wall, denting it. Kaen, still holding his hard-earned "winnings," stepped back, expression unchanged.
Sevika snarled, turned, and charged—her glowing purple arm swinging for another hit.
Kaen dodged again, leaping onto a stack of nearby barrels. "I don't want to fight," he said, voice flat. "I'm just a poor soul trying to earn money for my sick grandma."
"Stop talking nonsense," Sevika growled, chasing after him.
The fight looked more like a game of cat and mouse than a serious brawl. Kaen moved with feline grace, dodging Sevika's swings while bouncing across stalls and pipes in the plaza. Pedestrians stepped back—some laughing, others placing bets. Kaen, meanwhile, kept tossing the bag of gears from hand to hand like this wasn't even about him.
"Stop running, you bastard!" Sevika roared, hurling a barrel that Kaen narrowly ducked.
"Hehehe," Kaen let out a deadpan giggle, hopping onto a raised platform.
Suddenly, a high-pitched laugh echoed from a nearby rooftop. A small figure with blue braids and a gun crouched above, laughing her head off. "Hahaha! Look at you, big lady! Chasing a guy over a handful of gears? This is better than a circus! Hahaha! Keep going, weird boy! Bring the drama!"
Sevika stopped, turning toward Jinx with a look of pure annoyance. "Tch. Jinx… This isn't your circus!"
Kaen tilted his head toward Jinx. "Thanks for the support, ma'am. Care to join the negotiation?" His voice remained monotone, but his gestures were so dramatic it looked like he was starring in a soap opera.
Sevika looked at Jinx, then back at Kaen, even more irritated. "You know this guy?" she asked.
Jinx wiped a tear from her eye and jumped down, still laughing, twirling a grenade like a toy. "Hell no! But he's fun. Look at that face—like a dead fish! But he talks like he owns Zaun. Let him go, Sevika. He's not worth the beating." She strolled over to Kaen, who stood on the platform still playing with the bag of gears, expressionless yet smug.
Sevika growled, but backed off. Kaen hopped down with a dull thump, brushing off his jacket like nothing happened. "Thanks, Miss Boom. You're my hero," he said, bowing dramatically toward Jinx. Then he turned to Sevika, holding up the gears. "Still sure you don't want a skewer? My treat."
Sevika looked at him like she wanted to incinerate him with her mind, but Jinx was still giggling, and that seemed to calm her down. "Get lost before I change my mind," she muttered, turning away.
Kaen didn't need to be told twice. "Pleasure doing business," he said in his flat tone, pocketing the gears and walking off with a cheerful strut like he'd just hit the jackpot. Jinx watched him go, still laughing, while Sevika shook her head, muttering something about "idiots and lunatics."
As Kaen disappeared into the crowd, his mind was already on the next absurd plan. "Step one: play tag with the Terminator lady—check. Step two: spend these gears on something epic. Food? A bass guitar? Or maybe…" He looked toward the horizon, where the towers of Piltover gleamed in the distance. "A trip to the fancy side of town? Hmm. That sounds fun."
And with that, he kept walking, expression blank but heart pounding with the thrill of a gremlin who'd just dodged disaster—and was already plotting the next one.