Chapter Text
Smog-thick air irritates Caitlyn's nose as she scans the dirty street spread out before her. She could’ve sworn she’d heard a shout, but she can’t determine which direction it came from. None of the denizens of Zaun seem especially distressed.
Despite being surrounded by dens of hedonism where illicit drugs circulate and sidewalks where couples threaten to violate public decency laws, Caitlyn likes getting out from behind her desk to actually walk among the people she’s sworn to serve.
She’s about to start searching the shops when the sound of crying pulls her attention to a nearby alleyway.
Running toward the sound might reveal her as an enforcer, but Caitlyn isn’t about to put someone in danger just to maintain her cover. She expects to find a fight or mugging, maybe a drug deal gone wrong, but the alley is empty except for a small teenager crying on a fire escape.
“No! No, no, I’m sorry. Please… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”
For a moment, Caitlyn thinks the teen is talking to her, but before she can respond the girl snaps, voice seething with rage, “No, I didn’t!”
“It was an accident,” the girl goes on. Caitlyn can’t tell if she’s talking to herself or whatever she’s holding in her hands. “I didn’t—she wasn’t supposed to break.”
Caitlyn hesitates in the mouth of the alley, wishing for more light to see what’s happening. She doesn’t want to intervene if she isn’t welcome or needed, but she won't leave a distressed teen alone and possibly in danger.
The girl leaps from the fire escape, long braids flying behind her with the momentum of the jump before she lands smoothly on the ground. She begins to pace the width of the alley. Her closed hands come together and apart, over and over. It looks like she’s holding something, two things maybe, but Caitlyn isn’t close enough to be sure.
“I can—I can fix it. She doesn’t have to know… Shut up! I’m trying to think!”
Distress, pacing, talking to herself, seemingly hearing things that aren't there—the girl is likely experiencing psychosis. It’s something Caitlyn’s encountered several times since becoming an enforcer, usually in the undercity where drugs and violence are cheaper and easier to access than healthcare. Hopefully the girl is unarmed.
Caitlyn clears her throat and raises her voice to ask, “Do you need help?” She keeps the distance between them, not wanting to scare the teen off by getting too close.
The girl’s head snaps up, her eyes flitting from empty space to empty space before finding Caitlyn. “Who are you?”
“My name is Caitlyn. You sounded upset; I wanted to check that you’re okay.”
“Shut up! She’s not,” the girl hisses over her shoulder.
“Can you tell me your name?” Caitlyn asks in an attempt to refocus the girl’s attention.
She studies Caitlyn for a long moment before shrugging one shoulder. “Jinx.”
“Jinx,” Caitlyn repeats, the name odd on her tongue. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow me.”
Jinx’s head cocks to the side. “Help how?”
“However I can. Did you break something? Perhaps I can help fix it.”
Jinx clutches her hands to her chest, curling in on herself and chewing her lip. Caitlyn waits where she is, trying to look harmless, like she doesn’t have a badge hidden in her jacket. She’s been doing patrols in the undercity long enough to understand their distrust of enforcers.
“She’d like to help,” Jinx says quietly before nodding once and striding decisively toward Caitlyn.
As she gets closer, more of her becomes visible. The light blue of her hair and the cloud tattoos adorning her arms and midriff. The vibrant pink of her bootlaces, and the dark makeup smudged around violet blue eyes.
Jinx holds out ink-stained hands, revealing a plush rabbit. “She broke.”
The toy is sewn together out of scrap fabric, patchwork pieces covering what Caitlyn assumes to be old tears, a dark stain on one of the ears. The worst of the damage, though, is that the plush has been split into two pieces. The head sits in Jinx’s left hand while the rest is held by her right. Crumpled fabric that makes up the toy’s filling pokes out from the top of the neck.
The plush has clearly seen better days, and Caitlyn is about to suggest they replace it entirely when Jinx asks, with wide, desperate eyes, “Can you fix her?”
It’s far outside the realm of Caitlyn’s normal job duties, but she nods. “I’ll need a sewing needle and thread.” Maybe the sewing lessons her mother had forced her to attend would serve some purpose after all.
Jinx’s entire demeanor changes. “I have that at home!” She exclaims as unfiltered joy chases the gloom from her face. She lovingly cradles the decapitated toy to her chest like it’s a treasure she wants to keep close to her heart.
Jinx skips to the end of the alleyway, long braids whipping in the air behind her. She steps out onto the street before pausing, her gaze finding where Caitlyn has been stunned into stillness. “Hurry up, slow poke! You can meet the shop!”
‘The shop’ turns out to be a small hole-in-the-wall place with windows covered in graffiti-esque doodles, ‘Vibrant Inx’ spray painted in big bubble letters in the middle of the chaos. Caitlyn had passed it several times on her patrols, but never given it much attention.
Jinx stops just out the view of the window. She drags her palm over her face, further smearing her makeup before craning her head to peer inside the tattoo shop. “You’ll have to distract Vi.”
“Who is Vi?”
Jinx doesn’t answer. She just holds the broken toy behind her back in one hand, using the other to throw open the door. A small bell chimes. Jinx, bouncing impatiently on her toes, gestures Caitlyn inside.
The uncertainty of not knowing what to expect grits at Caitlyn’s nerves as she steps inside. The place is surprisingly nice, boasting a faint smell of cleaning product that makes her nose itch. It’s well-lit with an open layout that allows Caitlyn to see the back of the shop from just inside the entrance. Just beyond the piercing corner, across from a few time-worn but stain-free tattoo beds, a folding table and chair are shoved against a colorful wall. A woman with bright pink hair is sitting there, muscles rippling under dark ink as she draws.
“Vi,” Jinx calls out, already disappearing up a staircase running along the left wall, “You have a customer!”
Vi glances up, looking exactly like Caitlyn would expect from a Zaunite tattoo artist. She’s covered in piercings and ink, including a face tattoo of a roman numeral on her cheek. With her bulging muscles and wrapped hands, she looks like she might moonlight as a boxer.
“Why are you going upstairs? I need you in the shop!”
Jinx, already out of sight, calls back, “It’s fine, she’s not here for a piercing!”
Vi studies Caitlyn, gray eyes cool and assessing, scarred lips pursed in disapproval. Standing a little straighter, Caitlyn forces down the urge to slip back outside and make a run for it. She’s a decorated officer with a pistol in her boot, but at the moment, she feels like a rabbit in the sights of a wolf.
“So you’re here for a tattoo?” Vi asks, voice dripping with disbelief as she moves from the desk to the reception counter separating the front of the shop from the back.
Now that she’s seen Jinx safely returned home, Caitlyn could make an excuse to take her leave. Or she could explain the situation. But something in her, that angry part of her that is so tired of being seen as an elitist rich girl, demands she rise to the challenge in Vi’s words.
She meets Vi’s stare with a lift of her chin. She’s the sheriff of Piltover, not some rookie cop; she can handle an intimidating tattoo artist. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“You don’t look like my regulars. Most of them are half your height, twice your width, and already rocking at least three visible tats. I’ve never had a Piltie client.”
“How did you know?”
Vi raises an eyebrow. “Your fancy voice, your shiny hair, your perfect posture. The outfit—”
“I bought this in Zaun!” Caitlyn protests, glancing down at the outfit she’d thrifted from an undercity shop. A worn tank top, ripped pants, fingerless gloves, boots with steel toes—all things she regularly sees in the undercity.
“It’s fine, but you don’t exactly blend in,” Vi says, leaning against the counter. “What are you doing on this side of town, anyway? You’re not some undercover enforcer, are you?”
Caitlyn’s jaw drops. Three months of weekly patrols and a buff tattoo artist is the first to see through her before she flashes her badge.
Vi straightens up. “Holy shit, you’re actually an enforcer. Are you investigating my shop, or something? ‘Cause I’ve got all the permits.”
She pulls out an ink-covered binder from under the counter and drops it onto the surface with a hefty thud.
“No, no, I’m not.” Caitlyn reaches out to stop her from opening it. If there are any discrepancies, she doesn’t want to know. She’d made it clear when she’d proposed the Zaun patrols that they would be focussed exclusively on violent crime.
“You’re not?”
“I’m… here for a tattoo.”
She doesn’t know why Jinx is keeping the broken plush a secret, but she doesn’t want to betray her trust. She doesn’t want to give Jinx a reason to slip back into her earlier state. Caitlyn needs to play this a little slower, assess the situation and determine the best way to help.
“Riiiiight,” Vi drawls with a healthy dose of skepticism. “And do you have a sketch of the design you want?”
“No?”
Jinx appears at the top of the stairs, visible to Caitlyn, but out of Vi’s sight. She makes some confusing hand gestures and mouths something. She points at Vi.
Caitlyn focuses back on the tattoo artist. “This is my first tattoo so if there’s some protocol—”
“I can draw something up for you, but you’re getting charged for the design whether or not you end up getting it tattooed.”
Jinx nods in Caitlyn’s peripheral vision. “That’s fine, I can afford it.”
“No shit. So what are you wanting?”
“A nine by nineteen millimeter parabellum bullet with my family’s crest on the side.”
Vi’s eyebrows shoot up, and she looks almost impressed. “You want a bullet tattoo?”
“Yes. A rifle projectile.”
“You have this family crest on you?”
Caitlyn hesitates before bending to reach for her boot. She withdraws her handgun slowly, keeping her finger well away from the trigger. Met with narrowed eyes and rolling shoulders, as if in preparation for a fight, Caitlyn hurries to empty the magazine. She tucks the empty gun away and holds out one of the bullets. It’s smaller than what she uses for her rifle, but the crest on the side is the same.
Vi’s fingers are surprisingly soft when they brush Caitlyn’s as she takes the bullet. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”
Jinx points at the window, and Caitlyn finally understands one of her signals. “Do you mind if I wait outside?”
“You’re not gonna run off without paying, are ya?”
Caitlyn nods to the bullet. “You have collateral. That isn’t cheap.”
Vi scoffs, but she’s smiling slightly. It makes her look less intimidating. Almost… cute. Then she shrugs, drawing attention to the size of her inked shoulder. “Right. Sure, cupcake, wait outside if you prefer the noise and smell of the streets.”
She doesn’t, but Jinx is looking increasingly impatient so she nods and leaves. Jinx joins her almost immediately, slipping out the door right behind her. She tugs Caitlyn to where they can’t be seen from the window before shoving the broken toy and a small canister at her. “You said you’d fix her.”
“I will.” Caitlyn tucks the rabbit under her elbow so she can open the canister. Inside are three sewing needles, a pair of small scissors, and two spools of thread—black and white. She uses the black spool to thread a needle before handing the canister to Jinx.
Jinx sways side-to-side like she can’t stay still, peering between Caitlyn and the shop window as Caitlyn sews. “You have a gun.”
“Yes, several.” She can’t be sure if Jinx overheard Vi’s revelation about her career, or how Jinx would respond to the knowledge. She’s fortunate Vi hadn’t thrown her out or picked a fight.
“Are you a good shot?”
“I’m an excellent shot.”
Jinx nods. She isn’t talking to herself anymore but Caitlyn wonders if she’s still seeing or hearing things, or if she’s always this jittery. “There’s an old arcade down the street with a shooting game. Vi can’t shoot for shit so she’s easy to beat.”
“Are you close with her?”
Jinx beams. “She’s my sister, she practically raised me after our parents—well, you don’t wanna know about that.”
A sister and caregiver. Caitlyn wonders if Vi knows about Jinx’s hallucinations, if she’s done anything to prevent them.
“I don’t think she’d give me a bullet tat,” Jinx continues, tracing the line of a blue cloud tattoo on her arm. “Maybe Ekko, if I traded for a piercing…”
Caitlyn takes the scissors from the open canister to clip off the excess thread before sewing it off and carefully tucking it into the inside of the toy. “There, all fixed.”
Jinx shoves the canister in her pocket and carefully takes the rabbit to study Caitlyn’s work. She must deem it satisfactory because she lunges forward, long arms folding around Caitlyn.
It takes Caitlyn a moment to make sense of the situation and realize she’s being hugged by a near stranger. She’s not sure what to do with such free affection, and by the time she raises her arms to return the hug, Jinx is already slipping away.
“Thanks,” Jinx murmurs, almost shy. Caitlyn doesn’t know what to make of her. Jinx glances at the shop window. “Okay, now!” She rushes inside and back up the stairs, footfalls surprisingly quiet for how fast she’s moving.
She’s vanished upstairs by the time Caitlyn steps fully into Vibrant Inx. Vi glances at her before refocusing on the paper in front of her. “I’m almost done.”
Jinx skips back down the stairs before Vi finishes, the plush gone. Jumping to sit on the counter, she picks up the binder Vi had brought out and flips through it. After a minute, she sets it beside her, pointing to a photograph of an abstract monkey tattoo. “That’s one of mine, Vi has it on her ankle.”
“Welcome back. Where have you been all day?” Vi asks, moving to stand behind the counter.
“Oh, you know,” Jinx says, alternating pink and blue nails flashing as she vaguely waves a hand, “here and there and everywhere else.”
Vi’s eyes narrow at her sister before sliding to Caitlyn. She hands over the paper, “What’cha think, cupcake?”
Caitlyn forgets to object to the name when she sees Vi’s art. A rifle projectile with the Kiramman crest has been carefully inked onto the page, simple and elegant. Caitlyn’s chest warms as she admires it. “It’s perfect.”
Vi and Jinx’s eyebrows shoot up in perfect synchronization. Vi blinks, looking a little flustered even as she smirks. “Yeah, I mean, obviously… You want it, then?”
“Of course she does!”
Caitlyn should tuck the drawing into her jacket and return to her patrol, she should take some time to think it over. She definitely shouldn’t get a tattoo in a random shop she stumbled into by chance; these things are meant to be researched and carefully considered first. She hadn’t even checked Vi’s permits. Not to mention, she’s supposed to be working.
Then again, she hasn’t had a chance to discuss Jinx’s psychosis with her sister yet. She needs more time.
The tattoo isn’t exactly necessary, but looking at the crisp, familiar lines, Caitlyn has to admit she wants it. Almost craves it. “Do you have gold ink?”
Vi smiles, slow and surprised. Caitlyn’s heart thuds a little harder in her chest. Seeing Vi smile and lean against her little sister, she can’t remember why she’d been scared of her. Vi is actually kind of stunning.
“Yeah, cupcake. I’ve got gold.”
“Stop calling me that. My name is Caitlyn.”
“Alright.” Vi’s palm lightly hits the countertop. “ Caitlyn, come get comfortable and show me where you want it.”