Chapter Text
ARC I - WHISPERS IN THE STEAM
Zaun was a city alive with chaos. Its towering structures of rusted metal and crumbling concrete jutted out at odd angles, a labyrinth of pipes and platforms illuminated by flickering neon lights. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of oil, metal, and ozone, a constant reminder of the industrial sprawl that defined the Undercity. Steam hissed from cracked vents, and the hum of machinery pulsed like a heartbeat, giving Zaun its distinct rhythm of life.
Jax darted through the narrow alleys, his satchel clinking with scavenged parts as he hummed a tune to himself. The boy, tall and wiry for his age, had messy blonde hair and a perpetual grin that made it hard to take him seriously, even when he was trying to be. Not that he tried to be serious often. Life was too short in Zaun, and if Jax had learned anything, it was that laughter made the grime and the noise a little more bearable.
Today had been a lucky day—or so he thought. He’d found a half-working power core and some gears that looked almost new, a rare treasure down there. His mind buzzed with ideas for his next “brilliant” invention (a spring-loaded shoe that, in theory, would let him jump twice as high). But his thoughts screeched to a halt when he rounded a corner and nearly tripped over someone sitting on the ground.
It was a girl, small and hunched over, her bright blue hair tied into two short, uneven pigtails. She froze, looking up at him with her blue eyes—wide with panic.
“Uh, hi?” Jax said, tilting his head. “You always sit in alleys like this?”
The girl flinched, clutching a rusty piece of metal to her chest like it was something precious. “I—I wasn’t doing anything,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll leave if you want. I… I didn’t mean to get in the way.”
Jax frowned, the grin fading slightly from his face. She looked like she’d bolt if he so much as blinked. He raised his hands in what he hoped was a friendly gesture. “Whoa, hey, slow down,” he said. “You’re not in my way or anything. I just… didn’t see you there.”
The girl’s eyes darted toward him nervously, her grip tightening on the piece of scrap. “You’re not gonna… take it?” she asked, her tone cautious.
“Take what? That chunk of metal?” Jax asked, blinking in surprise. “Nah. I’ve got my own pile of junk.” He patted his satchel, the clink of parts inside making her flinch again. “Besides, I’d probably mess it up anyway.”
Her brow furrowed. “Mess it up?”
“Yeah,” Jax said, plopping down cross-legged a few feet away from her. “I try to build stuff, but it usually, uh… doesn’t work. Or explodes. Or both.”
For a moment, the girl just stared at him, her face a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “You… build stuff?” she asked quietly.
“Well, I try,” Jax admitted, shrugging. He pulled a mangled contraption from his satchel—a crude, bent device with wires sticking out at odd angles. “This was supposed to be a handheld fan,” Jax said, holding up a device with blades bent in all the wrong directions and a motor that hummed weakly. “But now it’s, uh… a very dangerous way to mess up your hair.”
Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile. “That’s… kinda dumb.”
“It isn't dumb,” Jax shot back, his grin faltering just slightly. His ears went a little pink, though, betraying his embarrassment. “It’s creative. And it’s fun.”
The girl’s eyes widened with mild amusement. “Fun? How is it fun?”
Jax straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve like he was about to present something grand. “You just gotta see it, okay?”
“See what?”
“Building stuff,” he said, holding up a small, rusty gear. “You look like you’re good at finding junk. Ever tried making something out of it?”
She shook her head quickly, her fingers tightening around the scrap in her hands. “No. I… I’d mess it up.”
“Nah,” Jax said with a wave of his hand. “Messing up’s part of the fun. Here.” He reached out, gesturing to the piece she was holding. “Let me show you. I won’t break it—promise.”
The girl hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the piece of scrap. Finally, she handed it over, her movements slow and cautious. “Okay,” she whispered.
Jax took it with an exaggerated flourish, like it was the most important thing in the world. “All right, let’s see… This is perfect for a noisemaker. Ever wanted to make something really annoying?”
Her eyes flickered with a spark of interest. “Like… loud?”
“Super loud,” Jax said, grinning. “We’ll make the loudest, most annoying thing Zaun’s ever heard.”
For the first time, the girl smiled—a small, hesitant curve of her lips. “Okay,” she said.
And just like that, Jax’s grin grew even wider. “Alright, so… what do I call you?”
“Powder,” she said quietly, almost like she wasn’t sure she should answer
“Powder,” Jax repeated, nodding with approval. “Cool name. I’m Jax.”
X
Jax had always thought his workshop was the coolest place in Zaun. Sure, it was a mess—tools scattered across every surface, parts and scraps piled haphazardly in the corners—but it was his. A space where he could create, dream, and occasionally blow things up. It was home.
But now, with Powder sitting on the edge of his cluttered worktable, nervously fiddling with a piece of scrap metal, he found himself seeing the space differently. She looked out of place, like she didn’t belong in a room so chaotic, so loud. Her blue eyes darted around the workshop, taking in the piles of half-finished gadgets and the faint hum of the jerry-rigged generator.
“This is where you live?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
“Yep,” Jax said, dropping his satchel onto the table with a loud clatter. He spread his arms wide and grinned. “Pretty awesome, huh? It’s like a workshop and a fortress rolled into one.”
Powder’s gaze flicked to a shelf sagging under the weight of rusted tools and broken parts. “It’s… messy,” she muttered.
“Messy is genius,” Jax said with a shrug, walking over to grab a particularly clunky contraption off the table. He held it up like a trophy. “See this? Grappling hook. For climbing walls, sneaking into places, maybe even escaping if you’re in a jam.”
Powder tilted her head, her blue hair falling into her face. “Does it work?”
“Of course, it—” Jax hesitated, his grin faltering. “Well, no. Not yet. But it will. I just need to fix, uh… pretty much all of it.”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as though she was holding back a laugh. “What else have you got?”
“Glad you asked,” Jax said, tossing the grappling hook onto the pile with a dramatic flourish. He rummaged through another stack and pulled out a small, gear-filled contraption. “This is the Auto-Winder. Wind up any string, rope, or cable automatically. Super useful.”
Powder leaned closer, inspecting it. “Does that work?”
“Technically?” Jax scratched the back of his neck. “Kinda. It winds things too fast, though. Once it yanked a whole coil of wire out of my hand and smacked me in the face.”
That did it. Powder laughed—a short, awkward burst that surprised both of them. Jax grinned wider, the sound lighting up his workshop like the buzz of a freshly charged circuit.
“See? You’re already having fun,” he said, grabbing another device. “And this one’s gonna blow your mind. Let me introduce you to the greatest noisemaker Zaun’s ever seen.”
Powder frowned, watching as he dumped a pile of gears, springs, and loose bolts onto the table. “You haven’t even built it yet.”
“Details,” Jax said, waving her off. “This is gonna be loud, obnoxious, and totally awesome. And you’re gonna help me make it.”
Her fingers tightened around the piece of scrap in her hands. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I’ve never made anything before.”
“Perfect,” Jax said, sliding a few parts toward her. “That means you can’t mess it up. Here, take this gear. It’s the most important piece. I think.”
Powder stared at the gear in her hand like it might bite her. “What if I do mess it up?”
“Then we laugh at it and make a better one,” Jax said easily, grabbing a spring and fitting it into place. “That’s half the fun.”
Slowly, Powder started to help. Her hands were careful, almost too careful, as she followed Jax’s overconfident directions. He talked the whole time, filling the room with chatter about how this noisemaker would be so loud that even Piltover would hear it, and how they’d probably become famous inventors after this.
“Famous?” Powder asked, her voice skeptical but amused.
“Totally,” Jax said, hammering a bolt into place with a rusty wrench. “Zaun’s gonna put up statues of us. Well, me. But I’ll let you be in the background.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched into a smile.
An hour later, the noisemaker sat on the table. It was a bulky, lopsided thing with exposed gears and a crank that wobbled when Jax spun it. He leaned back, hands on his hips, grinning like he’d just built a masterpiece.
“Ready for the loudest noise in Zaun?” he asked, turning to Powder.
She nodded, her blue eyes wide with anticipation. “Ready.”
Jax cranked the handle, his grin widening as the gears clicked into motion. For a moment, it seemed to work. Then, with a sputtering rattle, the noisemaker let out a pitiful wheeze before grinding to a halt.
Powder blinked, staring at the contraption in stunned silence. Jax froze, his hand still on the crank.
And then she laughed.
It started as a giggle, small and soft, but quickly grew into full-blown laughter. Powder doubled over, clutching her stomach as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “That’s it?” she managed between fits of laughter. “That’s your noisemaker?”
Jax flushed, but his grin never faded. “It’s just a prototype,” he said, crossing his arms. “You can’t rush genius.”
Powder’s laughter only grew louder, and after a moment, Jax couldn’t help but join in. The sound filled the workshop, mingling with the faint hum of machinery, and for the first time in a long while, the room felt warm.
As the laughter faded, Powder wiped at her eyes, a small, genuine smile still on her face. “Thanks,” she said softly, glancing at him.
“For what?” Jax asked, leaning against the table.
“For… this,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the noisemaker, the cluttered room, and everything in between. “It was fun.”
Jax shrugged, pretending not to care. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Next time, we’re building something that actually works.”
Powder smirked, her blue eyes glinting. “We’ll see.”
The workshop grew quiet after Powder’s laughter faded, the failed noisemaker still sitting between them like a lopsided trophy. The soft hum of Zaun’s ever-present machinery filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional creak of pipes outside. Jax leaned against the edge of his worktable, fiddling with a loose bolt in his hand. Powder sat across from him, her fingers turning the small gear she’d been clutching since they started.
Her question still lingered in the air.
“Do you live here alone?”
Jax hesitated, keeping his eyes on the bolt. “Yeah,” he said, his voice casual. “It’s just me.”
Powder tilted her head, her blue eyes watching him carefully. “Don’t you get lonely?”
The question hit harder than Jax expected. He let out a laugh, a little too loud, a little too forced. “Lonely? Nah. I mean, look at all this stuff!” He gestured around the room, the cluttered shelves and piles of scrap. “I’ve got more junk than I know what to do with. Keeps me busy.”
Powder didn’t look convinced. “But… it’s just stuff,” she said quietly. “Doesn’t it feel quiet when you’re not building things?”
Jax rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “Zaun’s never quiet,” he muttered. “There’s always noise, you know? The pipes, the machines… it’s like the city’s always talking. Keeps me company.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but Jax cut her off, his tone light but a little too quick. “What about you? You’ve got people, right? You don’t seem like the ‘alone’ type.”
Powder blinked, surprised by the shift. “Oh. Yeah, I do,” she said, her voice softening. “There’s Vander. He’s not my real dad, but he’s… well, he’s like a dad, you know? He takes care of us.”
“Us?” Jax asked, glancing up at her.
“Me and my sister,” Powder said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Her name’s Vi. Well, Violet, but no one calls her that. She’s tough, always looking out for me. Then there’s Claggor. He’s really nice, and he’s super good at fixing things. And Mylo…” She trailed off, her expression souring. “Mylo’s a jerk.”
Jax raised an eyebrow. “A jerk?”
“Yeah,” Powder said, crossing her arms. “He’s always calling me names, saying I mess things up. But I don’t care what he thinks.”
Jax chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve got a whole crew. Even if one of them’s a pain.”
“Yeah,” Powder said, her smile returning briefly. “It’s nice. Most of the time.”
Jax watched her for a moment, her expression softening as she talked about her family. He shifted slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What about your real parents?” he asked, his voice careful.
Powder’s smile faltered, and her fingers tightened around the gear in her hands. “They… they were killed,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “By the Enforcers. Vander found me and Vi after… everything happened.”
Jax’s chest tightened at her words, and he leaned back against the table, staring at the bolt in his hand. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “That… that sucks.”
“It’s okay,” Powder said quickly, though her voice wavered. “I mean, it’s not, but… Vander’s been there for us.”
Jax nodded, letting the silence linger for a moment before Powder spoke again.
“What about your parents?” she asked, her blue eyes searching his face. “Where are they?”
Jax froze for a second, his grin flickering. “I, uh… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter than before. “Never knew them.”
Powder’s eyes widened slightly. “Never?”
“Nope,” Jax said, forcing a shrug. “I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember. It’s not so bad, though. I mean, who needs parents when you’ve got all this?” He gestured vaguely to the room, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Powder didn’t say anything for a while, her gaze flicking between him and the mess of gadgets around them. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft. “That sounds lonely.”
Jax swallowed, the words hitting harder than he expected. He tossed the bolt onto the table and stood up, grabbing a random piece of scrap to busy his hands. “Eh, I’ve got Zaun, right? And now we’ve got the world’s worst noisemaker. Can’t get lonely with all that going on.”
Powder smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in her eyes he couldn’t quite shake. “Yeah,” she said, almost to herself. “I guess you’re right.”
Jax didn’t push further, and neither did she. They just sat together in the workshop, the quiet hum of Zaun filling the space between them, until the awkwardness melted away into something easier. Something that felt a little less lonely.
“Powder!”
The sudden voice cut through the air, sharp and loud. Jax froze, the spring slipping from his fingers as his head snapped toward the door.
“Powder!” the voice called again, this time closer.
Powder flinched, her blue eyes going wide. “That’s Vi,” she muttered, quickly scrambling off the edge of the table.
“Vi?” Jax repeated, standing up as well. “Your sister?”
“Yeah,” Powder said, looking toward the door. “She must’ve been looking for me.”
Before Jax could respond, Powder was already heading toward the workshop’s makeshift entrance. He grabbed his wrench instinctively, just in case. A sister couldn’t be that bad… right?
They stepped out into the alley, and Jax immediately spotted her. Vi stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, scanning the shadows. Her hair was bright pink, messy and cropped short, and she had the kind of posture that screamed “don’t mess with me.” The instant she saw Powder, her expression hardened.
“Powder!” Vi barked, marching toward her. “What the hell were you thinking, running off like that? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”
Powder shrank back slightly, clutching the scrap gear she’d been holding in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vi’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry? You can’t just disappear, Powder! What if something happened to you?”
“I was upset,” Powder said, her voice trembling slightly. “Mylo… Mylo was teasing me again.”
Vi’s scowl deepened, but she softened a little at that. She crouched down, resting her hands on Powder’s shoulders. “Pow Pow, you know Mylo’s an idiot. You can’t let him get to you like that. Next time, just come to me, okay? Don’t run off.”
“Okay,” Powder murmured, nodding.
It was then that Vi noticed Jax standing behind her sister, awkwardly holding his wrench like it was some kind of shield. Her sharp gray eyes locked onto him, and Jax felt a chill run down his spine.
“Who’s this?” Vi asked, straightening up. Her tone wasn’t exactly threatening, but there was an edge to it that made Jax’s grip on the wrench tighten.
“Oh, uh, this is Jax,” Powder said quickly, stepping to the side so Vi could see him fully. “He has a workshop. I was… helping him build something.”
Vi raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Helping him build something?” Her eyes flicked over Jax, her gaze critical. “What are you, some kind of inventor?”
“Uh… yeah,” Jax said, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. “I mean, sort of. I… I make stuff.”
Vi didn’t look impressed. “And you just… let her into your place? You don’t even know her.”
“I—well—she was upset,” Jax stammered, his usual bravado nowhere to be found under Vi’s scrutinizing glare. “And I figured… I mean, I wasn’t gonna just leave her out there.”
Vi stared at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. Jax felt like she was measuring him, sizing him up, and he wasn’t sure he liked what she might be thinking. Finally, she let out a huff.
“Fine,” she said, turning back to Powder. “But you’re still in trouble. Next time, you tell me where you’re going. Got it?”
“Got it,” Powder mumbled, glancing back at Jax with an apologetic look.
Vi sighed, ruffling Powder’s blue hair affectionately. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Powder hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Jax. She lingered just long enough to make Vi stop and raise an eyebrow. “What is it, Pow?” her sister asked, her voice softening ever so slightly.
“I…” Powder shifted awkwardly, clutching the small gear she still held in her hands. She turned to Jax, her blue eyes glinting in the dim light. “Thanks… for, um, letting me help.”
Jax blinked, startled by the sincerity in her tone. He wasn’t used to people thanking him, especially for something as silly as a failed noisemaker. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, no problem. You, uh… did pretty good for a first-timer.”
Powder smiled, a small but genuine expression that made Jax feel strangely proud. She waved the gear at him. “I’m keeping this,” she said, her voice teasing but light.
“Consider it a gift,” Jax replied, grinning. “You can call it a souvenir from the ‘Invention Station.’”
Vi rolled her eyes, clearly impatient. “Okay, she said goodbye. Let’s go, Powder.”
“Hold on!” Powder said, huffing at her sister before looking back at Jax. Her gaze softened. “Maybe… I could come back sometime? To build something else?”
Jax hesitated, surprised by the question. He glanced at Vi, whose sharp gray eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring him to answer wrong. “Uh, yeah,” he said quickly, looking back at Powder. “Sure. Anytime. The workshop’s always open.”
Powder giggled, her small laugh breaking the tension in the air. “Okay. See you, Jax.”
She turned to follow Vi, but not before giving him one last wave over her shoulder. Vi sighed, putting a hand on Powder’s back to guide her forward. As they started walking away, Vi glanced over her shoulder at Jax one more time, her gaze sharp and assessing.
“Thanks for looking out for her, I guess,” Vi said, her tone grudging. “Just… don’t get any ideas.”
“I—what?” Jax sputtered, but Vi had already turned away, her arm slung protectively around Powder as they disappeared into the alley.
He stood there for a moment, watching them go. Powder’s small figure, the blue of her hair catching the faint glow of Zaun’s lights, lingered in his mind longer than he expected. He let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as the silence of the alley settled around him.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered under his breath, mimicking Vi’s sharp tone. He shook his head with a faint grin, turning to head back into his workshop. “She’s scary, but I guess she’s got a point.”
As he closed the creaky door behind him, the hum of Zaun filled the space once more, and Jax found himself glancing at the small pile of parts they’d used earlier. Powder’s laugh echoed faintly in his mind, and for the first time in a long while, the thought of someone coming back didn’t seem so bad.
He leaned against the worktable, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. His satchel hung loosely from his shoulder, its contents forgotten for the moment. Powder’s words from earlier played on a loop in his mind.
“Don’t you get lonely?”
Jax let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “What kind of question is that?” he muttered, half to himself. He looked around the room, his eyes skimming over the shelves of half-finished gadgets and the scattered tools on the floor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have company, he thought. He had his inventions. His projects. The constant hum of Zaun outside.
But the room felt quieter than usual now, and no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, Powder’s question lingered. She’d been so curious, so genuine, and for a moment, he’d felt something shift.
Jax moved to the small mattress in the corner of the room and flopped onto it, staring up at the patchwork ceiling. His hands rested behind his head as he let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest refusing to fade.
“Lonely,” he murmured to himself, tasting the word like it was foreign. He thought about Powder’s family—Vander, Vi, Claggor, even the annoying-sounding Mylo. She had people. Even if they weren’t perfect, even if some of them made her upset, they were there for her.
And him? He had his tools, his gadgets, and the endless noise of Zaun. That was enough. It had to be.
Still, as he lay there in the dim light of his workshop, Jax couldn’t shake the image of Powder laughing at their failed noisemaker. Her bright blue eyes had sparkled with something he hadn’t seen in a long time—joy. Real, unfiltered joy. And for a moment, he’d felt it too.
“Maybe,” he muttered, his voice quiet, “it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone around once in a while.”
The thought lingered as he closed his eyes, the soft hum of Zaun lulling him into a restless sleep. The workshop stayed the same, cluttered and chaotic, but for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel so small. And as Jax drifted off, he wondered if, just maybe, there was something more to life than gears and gadgets.
Something that felt a little less lonely.