Kaen Vexis considered his "sound studio" to be the pinnacle of Zaunite architecture: a dead-end alley with surprisingly decent acoustics—if one ignored the echo of oily water droplets falling from a leaky pipe. He was seated atop a rotting wooden crate, his battered electric bass resting across his knees. His fingers, now imbued with unnaturally precise control thanks to the Shimmer, tuned the strings. Or rather, tightened them until they produced a sound that, to Kaen, screamed "raw potential."
"All right, 'Eardrum-Wrecker,'" he muttered to his bass, naming it with his usual lack of subtlety. "Today's the day. Piltover. The city of posh snobs and overpriced cookies. They have no idea what's coming."
He stood up, stretching with a series of dramatic flourishes that were entirely unnecessary for his enhanced body—but he felt they added value to the performance. Slinging the bass over his shoulder, he grabbed his "tour kit": a duffel bag containing a spare string (a wire he'd found on the ground), half a skewer from last night (for emergencies), and one of his smaller scrap sculptures, titled "The Anguish of the Lonely Gear." He planned to use it as merch.
"The bridge is the obvious route," he told himself, his monotone voice echoing in the alley. "Too… conventional. But a decent start. The main entrance for the main act." With a confidence that defied all logic, he started walking—emerging from the guts of Zaun and heading toward the most heavily guarded path connecting the two cities.
His next big move? Sneak into Piltover during Progress Day. If he could stage a "concert" there, in front of the city's elite, he'd surely become a legend.
As he walked along a metal walkway that creaked under his feet, humming a tune that sounded like a dying fire alarm, a shadow dropped from above. Before he could react, the small figure landed in front of him with the agility of a caffeine-fueled monkey, blocking his path.
"Hold it right there, Noise King!"
The blue braids. The manic grin. Jinx crouched with her hands on her knees, staring at him with an intensity that was both amusing and deeply alarming. Her wide, expressive eyes sparkled with chaotic energy. She wore a backpack that looked one jostle away from detonating, and she twirled a tiny detonator in her hand.
Kaen blinked, face unmoved. "Ah. Miss Explosions. A pleasure as always. Did you enjoy my last performance? The reviews were... explosive." He made a vague gesture, as if quoting a prestigious newspaper.
Jinx cackled, springing to her feet. "Ha! It was a glorious disaster! I thought Frying Pan Granny was going to use you as a drum! Best thing I've seen in weeks! By the way... where ya going with that... thing?" She pointed at the bass with the detonator. "Gonna torture more innocent civilians?"
"This is not a 'thing,'" Kaen replied with fake dignity, placing a hand on the instrument. "It's my vessel to global stardom. And I'm not torturing anyone. I'm educating. My destination is Piltover."
"?!"
Jinx's grin froze for a heartbeat, replaced by complete disbelief. Then she burst into laughter again—this time so hard she had to hold her stomach. "PIL-tover?! You? Looking like that? Hahaha—oh wait, you're serious!" She wiped away an imaginary tear. "Dead Fish Dude, the Pilties will cannon-launch you into orbit before you play a single note. The Enforcers will arrest you just for that face."
Kaen raised an eyebrow. "My face is a work of art. And my music will transcend their limited minds. I'll simply walk across the bridge and—"
"No, no, no, NO!" Jinx cut him off, flailing her arms. "You don't get it. The bridge is boring. Full of guys in dumb uniforms asking dumb questions. 'Name?' 'Purpose of visit?' 'Why does your bass sound like it's dying?'" She mimicked a gruff Enforcer voice and rolled her eyes. "What a waste of time!"
Kaen tilted his head. "I have time. And my bass is not dying. It's expressing."
Jinx ignored him, circling like a shark assessing prey. She was twitchy—her movements quick and erratic. Clearly, she had somewhere to be. "Look, I've got... an errand. With boom-stuff." She made finger-explosion gestures. "And it just so happens my path goes... near Piltover. I know a better route. More fun. Fewer cops. More... scenery."
She stopped in front of him, face inches from his. "I'll take you."
Kaen didn't move. "And why would you do that, Miss Explosions? What's in it for you?"
"Entertainment!" Jinx declared, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "I need to see the look on the Pilties' faces when you start your... concert. It'll be like throwing a cymbal monkey into a tea party. Besides," she added in a conspiratorial whisper, "my route's the only one that'll work. Trust me."
Kaen considered it. His original plan, if one could call it that, was... nonexistent beyond "go there and play." Jinx's offer, chaotic as its source was, had some appeal. "Very well," he said flatly. "I accept your artistic collaboration proposal. But if I fall and break my bass, I'm billing you."
"Keep dreaming, Weirdo Boy! No one charges Jinx!"
She grinned from ear to ear. "Follow me! And try not to die!"
Without further ado, she leapt off the walkway's edge, landing on a massive pipe far below. She turned and gestured impatiently. "Come on, slowpoke! Time is... uh... something we don't have!"
Kaen sighed, then followed—landing with a quiet grace that surprised even him. The Shimmer in his blood made such stunts trivial.
"Not bad for a rookie!" she said with a wink. "Now keep up. This route isn't for wimps." She pointed toward a maze of rooftops, rope bridges, and pipes stretching toward the edge of Zaun.
"I am a man of many talents," Kaen replied, following close behind.
Their journey was a descent into Zaun's vertical chaos. Jinx led him through forgotten maintenance tunnels, where the only residents were cat-sized rats and swarms of glowing insects. They crossed rickety planks over chemical-scented chasms.
"So," Kaen said, ducking under a tangle of wires, "this plan of yours. Does it involve fewer chances of getting arrested and more chances of plummeting to certain death?"
Jinx laughed ahead. "Exactly! See? You're getting it. Death is way more exciting than a jail cell. Besides, Pilty jails are so clean and boring. Not even decent graffiti!"
"A valid point," Kaen conceded. "Art should be everywhere. Though I'd rather not become an artistic smear on a canyon floor."
"Chicken!" Jinx teased, jumping to another platform. "So, what kinda horrible noise you planning to make up there? Gonna play 'Ode to a Rusted Gear' or something?"
"My music is complex, emotional, and avant-garde," Kaen said in his usual flat tone, as if reading a grocery list. "My next single is titled 'The Silent Lament of the Clocktower.' It's about the tyranny of time in a society obsessed with material progress. Very deep."
Jinx halted so abruptly he nearly crashed into her. She turned, wearing a look of total disbelief. "The what of the what now? That sounds like the most boring thing I've ever heard! Why not call it 'Let's Blow Up the Clocktower'? Way catchier!"
"Destruction is a crude form of art," Kaen replied. "It's easy to break things. Creating something that makes people feel... that's real power."
"Pffft! Feeling is for the weak!" Jinx shot back, marching again—though her steps had a slight edge. "Feeling just gets you hurt. Better to make them feel. Fear, for example. Or the heat of a good explosion! Now that's a feeling!"
Kaen didn't respond. He simply followed. He noticed the shift in her tone—the sudden defensiveness. Like spotting a crack in a concrete wall, quickly plastered over with chaos and noise.
They reached an old freight elevator system, long abandoned. Jinx worked on the control panel with stunning finesse, sparks flying as she hummed.
"Almost there," she said. "This junker will get us most of the way. Then it's just a quick crawl through a vent. Easy."
While they waited, Kaen leaned his bass against the wall. "You really hate Piltover, don't you?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. She paused mid-wire-tweak and glanced sideways at him. "Hate? Nah. It's a giant playground. Full of things to break and uptight people to freak out. It's... fun." The word "fun" sounded a bit forced.
"Hmm," Kaen murmured. "You sound like someone trying to convince themselves that bitter medicine is actually candy."
Jinx turned fully, scowling. She pointed a screwdriver at him. "And what do you know, huh, Dead Fish Boy? You show up outta nowhere, play terrible music, and think you get it all. You don't know anything!"
"I know that the loudest people often have the most to hide," Kaen said—his tone devoid of judgment, just a simple statement. "And you're very loud. With words, with laughs, with... explosions."
For a moment, silence. Only the drip of water echoed around them. The manic joy on Jinx's face slipped, revealing something fragile. Her eyes widened, and for a second, she looked like she might scream or cry.
But the moment shattered as quickly as it came.
"HA!" she yelled as the elevator roared to life. "I did it! I'm a genius! You still don't know anything!" She hopped into the rusty cage and pulled a lever. The elevator lurched upward violently. "Get in or stay here, you second-rate philosopher!"
Kaen stepped in just as the doors slammed shut. They rose in tense silence. Jinx faced away, fiddling with her bag. Kaen said nothing. He simply watched the stone wall crawl past through the bars.
"You don't know me," Jinx muttered at last, still facing away.
"No," Kaen said. "And you don't know me. So we're even."
Jinx let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Right. You're the crazy musician, and I'm the bomb girl. Dream team."
The elevator jolted to a halt, nearly throwing them both over. The doors opened to a narrow, dark tunnel.
"This is it," said Jinx—her chaotic energy flooding back in. "Stick close, and don't touch anything. Unless you wanna meet one of my babies." She pointed to a jaw-shaped grenade stuck to the wall.
Kaen eyed it. "Adorable. Does it sing too?"
"Only when it bites!"
They crawled through the tunnel until they reached a grate. Jinx popped it off easily and peeked through.
"All right," she whispered, turning to him. "This is my secret path. Tell anyone, and I'll find you and make you listen to my music." She mimed playing an imaginary guitar, mimicking Kaen's horrible bass sound.
Kaen, unbothered, adjusted his bass. "Don't worry. My mouth's a tomb. But if this leads to a sewer, I'm writing a diss track so bad it'll haunt your nightmares."
"Sure, sure. Anyway, this is where we part," Jinx said, her gaze turning sharp. Her mission was calling. "I've got... cargo to escort." She gave him one last look—a mix of mischief and something else. Something like... concern? "Hey, Dead Fish."
"Yes, Miss Explosions?"
"Don't mess it up too bad. Or—if you do—make it legendary." She winked, then vanished down another shaft, swallowed by the dark.
Kaen stood alone in the vent, the sound of her boots fading. He peered through the grate. The tunnel was dark—but at the end, the lights of Piltover shimmered. Like a portal to another world.
He turned to leave, then paused. Glanced back toward where Jinx had gone.
"Hmm," he murmured, expression unreadable. He shook his head. "She can take care of herself."
He gave his bass one final adjustment. "Now... to the music."
And with that, Kaen Vexis stepped into the tunnel and took his first steps toward Piltover, ready to deliver a concert the City of Progress had not asked for—and certainly wouldn't forget. Unaware that, just a few docks away, his new chaotic acquaintance was about to unleash a hell of her own.