𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 | 𝐃𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝐋𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝐀𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕤

7. Lights

It's been days.
Time blurred together when every moment was spent running errands for Silco.
Orders barked like commands to a slave, and me, jumping to follow them.

My hands bled from gripping crates too tight, knees ached from climbing too many rusty ladders.
My mind? It was worse. Spinning, relentless, always calculating how to prove myself more.
I had spent every day of the past weeks in his factory, to show him I was in this fully.
On his side, no matter what.
No complaints. No hesitation.
Just loyalty.

Tonight, I found a sliver of space for myself, chilling against a crumbling wall outside Babette's.
The brothel always reeked of perfume and desperation. The thick air was mingling with the smell of fried food from a stand a few feet down the street.
Across from me, Finn lounged like he owned the place, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a slender, glowing cigar. His golden piece on his jaw had me staring for a couple seconds, every word he spoke seemed to come packaged with danger and charm.

"A pretty, independent girl like you shouldn't need to crawl for Silco," Finn pointed out, his tone light and teasing.
"He's got enough dogs. Don't you want something more?" His voice carried that slippery mix of amusement and malice that made him impossible to pin down.
I sharpened my Talon dagger with precision. Caring for it was my way of paying tribute to the Firelight I took it from as souvenir.
"And what, Finn? Jump ship for your brilliant plan? No thanks."

He chuckled, stepping closer, the dim light catching the flecks of gold on his jacket.
"I'm just saying, Shark, loyalty's a coin. You flip it the right way, and it lands in your favour. Silco's got power, sure. But it's a narrow kind of power. What I can offer, is vision without limits."
I snorted.
"You can offer me a headache. That's about it."

Finn's grin widened, the predator behind his charm showing for just a second.
"You're funny. Shame you waste it fetching for him."
I didn't answer, letting the words hang in between us. He fed off games like that.
Any vote, any spark of interest, and he'd think he had a chance to reel me in. I wasn't biting.

Before he could press further, my attention shifted.
Someone caught my eye by the brothel's door.
A figure entered, a man.
Broad-shouldered, sharp suit, the kind that screamed 'Piltover'.
Even from a distance, the rich fabric of his coat gleamed under the flickering streetlights.
His polished shoes barely made a sound on the uneven ground, a contrast to the usual scuffle of Zaunites dragging their feet through the muck.
I focused, dagger slowly placed back in its sheath.
Rich pricks like that one wouldn't come here unless they were looking for trouble, or trying to buy their way out of it.
Finn followed my gaze, arching an eyebrow.
"Looks like Babette's got herself a special customer tonight."
"Not our business," I muttered, though my eyes stayed locked on the man as he disappeared inside. My instincts screaming to follow.
The Chem-Baron with me leaned even closer, his breath warm against my cheek.
"Not unless you want it to be."

I shot him a warning glance, moving away.
"Drop it."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never fading.
"Do as you please, Shark. But keep playing Silco's lapdog, and one day, you'll find the leash too tight."
I didn't say anything anymore. Instead, I turned toward the brothel's entrance, half listening to Finn's annoyed huff behind me.
That rich man's shadow lingered in my thoughts, a ripple in the murky waters of Zaun. Truly.

I didn't know why, but something told me I had to find out who that was.
If topsiders ever visited Babette's or Madam Margot's for night companions, it usually was much more subtle and secretive.
That guy didn't just look rich, he was important, someone I probably should have NOT gotten involved with.

Next thing I knew, I weaved between the crowded corridors of the brothel.
My stomach churned at the thick smell of floral perfume and sweat. The walls were close, claustrophobic, with peeling red wallpaper and dim, flickering lights that didn't actually illuminate much.
Constant figures passed by, some brushing against me with a familiarity that made my skin crawl.

A woman wearing a lace mask and a gown slit scandalously high walked right up to me, running a hand along my arm.
"Are you looking for a little escape, sweetheart?" She purred, her voice honeyed and sweet but hollow beneath it.
I shrugged her off, keeping my eyes forward.
Another man, drunk and leering, gave me a very uncomfortable look.
"You. I like you. Don't be shy, come closer—"
I rushed out of sight before he could finish, I had enough of drunkards my whole life.
I ignored it all, ignored the murmurs and fingers that grazed my jacket as I walked deeper into the belly of that awful place.

The brothel was alive with whispered offers and promises of pleasure that didn't interest me.
Men and women laid across faded couches, some entangled, others haggling over the workers like they were buying fish at the market.
A trio at a table on my right, while in passage, erupted into laughter as one of them slammed a bottle down, spilling amber liquid across its surface.
The whole place was a haze of indulgence, greed, lust and desperation. I hated it.
Every smell, every sound, every look that followed me like I was a meal. But I kept walking, my attention solely on the reason I was there.

The rich man came into view just as he stepped through a door at the end of the hall.
Babette's office. Of course.
A man like him wouldn't mingle in the open.
He was there for something private, something secret, and I had no chance of hearing it.
I stopped in my tracks, letting out a quiet, frustrated sigh.
I wanted to grab the door handle and force my way inside, but I wasn't stupid.
Babette didn't tolerate interruptions while talking business and she didn't like me much either, after I betrayed Vander.

Still, I couldn't pull myself away. I leaned casually against the wall, pretending to be there for the same purpose as everybody else. I was wondering what business a wealthy Piltie like that could have had with someone like Babette.
Whatever it was, I was both certain it must have been serious, and unsure if maybe he wasn't there just to get his mind off stuff for a night.
I waited patiently, the minutes stretched while muffled voices and laughter echoed from the rooms around me.
My patience ran thin, but I stayed.
Whatever that damned guy was doing in there, I wanted to know.

A boy walked down the hall, white hair making him more noticeable than anyone else.
My breath hitched, and for a split second, hope flared into my chest. Ekko?
It couldn't be.
I straightened, following the boy with my eyes as he passed by, too far to see his face clearly.
No, it wasn't him— how could it be?
He'd never set foot in a place like this, right?
He wouldn't even think of it.
But the resemblance was enough to stir memories I'd buried deep, hoping to never dig them up again.
The last time I'd seen him...

The image of Deckard, warped and monstrous, flashed in my mind, followed by the sickening crack of Benzo hitting the ground.
We were just kids back then, but I had witnessed it first hand. Too young to be caught in something so big, so brutal. But Ekko had been there, screaming, crying, staring at the body of his mentor while I stood frozen in the chaos.
It was just me that remained, Silco had taken Vander and I stayed behind.
I remembered how my heart was pounding in that moment, driven by nothing but rage and grief.

That was why I stuck up to Sevika, wasn't it? I had been quite attached to her since forever, and everywhere she'd go I'd follow.
Silco promised power, revenge, and if it sounded alluring to her, how could it not be to me?
I wanted to avenge my parents.

It felt like the only option, the only way to survive. And I never regretted it.
Not for anything, except how it had ended with my best friend.
I could still see him, crouched next to Benzo's body, tears streaming down his face.
I tried to stay with him, tried to comfort him through my own sobs. I remembered clutching his shoulder, wanting to tell him we'd figure it out somehow, that we weren't alone. But then Vi had stormed in, her voice sharp and determined as she plotted how to rescue Vander. She had no time for grief, no time to stop and feel the weight of it all.

Ekko, though? He'd felt it all.
It was too much.
He took every ounce of that pain and turned it into anger. He'd pushed me away, shouting, his voice cracking as he spat out the words that haunted me even now.

"I hate you! You're with them! You killed him!"

I could still hear the hatred in his voice, the way it sliced through me like a blade.
He was right.
I had chosen the way to revenge, instead of staying with him and those that had become family.