Yours, always and forever | Timebomb fanfic | ekko×jinx

6. Reckless resolve

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She hurls herself from rooftop to rooftop, feet pounding, muscles thrumming, the cityscape a blur of jagged edges and flashing lights. Her blood’s a wildfire, searing through her veins, boiling, pulsing, louder than thought, louder than reason. Anger—thick, raw, twisting up her spine, clawing at her insides, screaming louder and louder with each leap, each breath, each heartbeat.

This was supposed to help, was supposed to clear her head, to let her shake free of the tangled mess clawing at her mind. But instead, the thoughts come faster, faster—Ekko, Silco, that damn mission that looms over her like a shadow. Nothing fits, nothing settles. It’s all too loud, too close, pressing in from every direction.

She’s just angry, and there’s nowhere to put it, no way to make it stop. Angry at the world, angry at this cursed place, angry at herself, angry at him. The frustration gnaws, digs deeper, exhausting and endless, burning and burning, like she’s going to come apart, like she’s nothing but noise and fire and fury waiting to explode.

Her mind swirls, thoughts tumbling and twisting, fire and fury lashing out with nowhere to land. It presses in, this need, this impulse crawling up her spine, hot and fierce—she has to let it out. She has to make something break.

A sudden stillness overtakes her as she stops, eyes darting across the empty shells of buildings around her, scanning the faded brick, the rusted iron, the crumbling edges. Then her gaze locks onto one—a sagging, forgotten ruin on the edge of collapse, barely hanging on by a thread. The perfect prey. It won’t matter if it’s gone. In a place like this, no one cares. No one will even notice.

She climbs higher, perching on a nearby rooftop where she can see it all, the darkened structure framed against the electric skyline, hers for the taking. Her hands find the cold metal of her bombs, fingers working with a precision honed by practice and rage. Setting them up, feeling the weight of them, she’s already tasting the thrill of it—the tension, the thrill of her patience, waiting, savoring each second ticking down.

The bombs lie in her hands, waiting for her signal. She won’t rush it; she wants to feel every second of this release. Just a single breath, held and focused, the burning fire within her coiled, waiting—then she’ll unleash it, a wild pulse of destruction, her anger exploding in neon-pink flames.

Her fingers curl around the cold metal, trembling with an excitement that feels like it might consume her whole. She lights the fuse, a spark in the dark, flickering hot and alive in her hand, and lets it loose with a flick of her wrist, precise, deliberate. The bomb arcs through the air, slicing toward the shattered window, the perfect portal for chaos.

It feels like time slows as she watches, breath caught, pulse hammering. Her gaze is locked onto the building, a predator savoring the moment before the kill. And then—BOOM. The blast rips through the silence, a shattering roar that echoes like a heartbeat. Debris sprays into the sky, a flurry of smoke and shards, dust and destruction. Half the building crumbles, devoured by the flames, as if it was made to be torn apart.

Her eyes gleam, wide and wild, a twisted pride flaring in her chest. Power thrums through her veins, hot and fierce, the tension in her muscles melting into pure, sweet satisfaction. It’s been too long, far too long since she’s felt this. The thrill, the freedom, the sheer release. For a fleeting moment, it’s like the fire has burned away every trace of her anger, leaving only the blissful silence of destruction.

But she’s not done—not yet. Her hand finds another bomb, fingers gripping it with an urgency she can’t quite name, lights it, readies her aim, the second shot lined up with surgical precision, aiming right for the next window, where it’ll hit just right, blow the rest to ashes, a perfect encore, ready to-