Chapter Text
Residents of the Undercity quickly learned who Silco was. The mind behind Shimmer, the man who bested Vander. A kingpin, a killer. Not that it matters to you, of course; a customer is a customer. The first time you met Silco, you didn’t even know it was him. You had heard of him in name only, but you didn’t have a face to match it with.
He had stridden into your art commodity shop in the Lanes with a girl no older than fourteen tailing behind him with a slight spring in her step, a rare sight in the Undercity. His daughter, you supposed. He bought an abhorrent amount of crayons and markers at her direction and left without a word. You later learned through one of your workers that the man was Silco. It was difficult to imagine a kingpin, a killer, purchasing an assortment of coloring supplies at the whims of a little girl, but he did pay a generous amount for it so you had no complaints. He may be a monster, but he was no thief.
It seemed the girl went through them moderately quickly because you saw him thrice more in the store over the course of several months, buying the same things, accompanied by the same girl. Stock was nearly cleared out every time, and you were particularly low on all shades of blues and pinks. Periodically, it was not Silco who accompanied the girl, but a woman you knew to be Sevika. A strong, intimidating woman, she had few words to offer you, only grunting to your greetings and farewells as the pair entered and left the shop, mechanical arm holding the bag of markers on the way out.
Over time, routine taught you to set aside those specific colors for the girl exclusively, who eventually began to frequent your shop by herself, no Silco or Sevika in sight. It was a bit relieving actually. From what you’ve heard, they were rather ruthless. Perhaps they would kill you if the girl was not satisfied with the colors you had in stock. Their presence always kept you on edge, though you were careful not to let it show.
Unmoving, Silco would browse your store with eyes only as the girl skidded around the room and grabbed handfuls of materials. You tried not to stare too much as he did so, but these instances were your only chance to observe the elusive man who had taken control of the Undercity. Grand plans unbeknownst to you, hidden in the mind beneath jet black hair, interrupted by a silver streak. You especially tried not to stare at his eyes. One oceanic, the other volcanic. The orange in the latter seemed to suck you in, drowning you in lava and ash. Even if you searched the whole world, you were not sure if you would find an equal to the hue.
Sevika, at least, would pace around. Though that did little to quell the anxious feeling building in your stomach. The sound of her slow steps against the wooden floors of the establishment caused goosebumps to break out on your arms. Word on the street aside, every morsel of your being told you that woman was deadly, and she seemed to silently judge every object you had for sale. If you had met her under different circumstances, you were sure you would have fled at the mere sound of her heavy footsteps.
The teenage girl—Jinx—was actually quite approachable on her own, and over the course of a year the two of you formed something akin to a friendship. You learned quickly that she did not like to be by herself for extended periods of time. When she found herself alone, she would gravitate towards your shop, preferring to watch you re-stock or incoherently ramble about a mission Silco had sent her on. Barely understanding, you simply listened and never asked for details. The less you knew, the better.
On the rare occasion, Jinx would complain about Silco, in which case you would desperately try not to listen. Some things were not meant for your ears, and you shuddered to think about what might happen to you if he suddenly realized you knew too much information. Father-daughter relationships are sensitive subjects after all.
Still, you held space for her to talk, even if sometimes it felt like she was not talking to you specifically. Unfamiliar names often wove themselves into her words when she was particularly agitated. A ‘Violet’ mostly. It looked as though she just really needed a friend, something hard to come by around here. It was a dog eat dog world, and while initially you started conversing with Jinx in order to stay on Silco’s good side—pun unintended—you daresay you found yourself starting to care for the girl. The least you could do was lend an ear, and despite the large age gap and the obvious differences in your daily routines, you realized you had some things in common with her too.
“Y’know, I like these materials. When I draw with them it’s like swoosh!” she said one day, her hands making a wave motion to exemplify her onomatopoeia. She sat on the counter where the register was as you carefully packed a new set of oil pastels for her.
“Happy to hear. I actually make the formula for the oil pastels myself,” you smiled.
Jinx’s eyes went wide, nearly toppling over in surprise. “Really? How come I never knew that—I invent stuff too!”
“Oh, that’s sick! Let me know if you ever get bored of these shades, I can try to tweak the pigments to your liking.”
“Coolio! And you should totally come to my workshop sometime, I think you’d like it there. Oooh, I can show you some of my drawings too—they’re pretty neat.” The mischievous glint in her eyes was enticing, and you wondered what this teenage girl could possibly be cooking up in her laboratory. Knowing she was close with Silco, it was probably something dangerous. But curiosity often triumphs over sound logic, and you found yourself expressing interest in her creations regardless.
“Purrrfect!” Jinx clapped her hands together in excitement, and a bag of coins clinked on the counter. In one swift movement, she picked up the now-packed box of pastels, placing it between her forearm and her hips. Wiggling the fingers on her other hand as a parting gesture, she sang, “Well, toodaloo,” the bell on the door ringing on her way out.
You didn’t see her again for some time.
—
When you realized Jinx—and by extension, Silco—were going to be frequent customers, you offered to do deliveries. It would save them time too. Blues and pinks were the only colors she was using then, so you would know which ones to deliver without them having to go out of their way to personally place and pick up an order. Upon your suggestion, Jinx immediately declined, adamantly voicing that the materials she needed absolutely had to be selected and picked up in person, and it’s stayed that way ever since.
So when you opened up shop to find a hand-written letter on the counter with an order for more art supplies and delivery instructions to The Last Drop, you were surprised. She never mentioned the location of her workshop, but The Last Drop seemed to be a little uncharacteristic, even if Silco was in charge of it. It was signed at the bottom: a blue J, a pink I, a blue N, a pink X. You weren’t really sure how she got in, considering the door was locked, but the alternating colors made you grin. Their childish charm served as an extra confirmation of the sender’s identity. The postscript read “Come see my drawings. ”
You packed the order; the usual vibrant pinks and blues, but also purples and greens and oranges.
“Why don’t you try some new colors,” you had asked her, many months ago. “Pink and blue together make a pastel…purple? ”
At that point, you knew better than to mention the word violet. Jinx contemplated it for a moment before hesitantly reaching for the soft lavender shade you held out to her. Silco was there too, and eyed you cautiously, gaze ever so slightly softening when Jinx accepted the new color. The rest was history. Her purchases now teemed with a variety of different colors and hues, a stark contrast to the dull and gray atmosphere of the Undercity.
The door to the store locked with a satisfying click and you headed directly to The Last Drop with a box in hand, hoping you wouldn’t get mugged at gunpoint over some paint markers on your way there. Strangely enough, you realized you had never actually been in there before. You weren’t much of a drinker.
The bright neon lights surrounding the bar-now-turned-club’s sign entered your vision, casting everything in a yellow hue. You couldn’t help but feel a bit like a moth drawn to a flame. As per the delivery instructions, you used the front entrance, and the security out front let you pass without question. Jinx must have let them know ahead of time. It seems you’ve avoided being burnt, for the time being.
The place was noisier than you were expecting, considering the time of day. The jukebox to your right was playing an upbeat tune, dampened by the various conversations and high-pitched laughter from the club’s frequenters. Across the room, you saw Sevika shuffling cards. Upon meeting your gaze, she cocked an eyebrow, and you lifted the box in your hand. In response, she jutted her thumb upwards, indicating for you to go upstairs, before returning her attention to the deck.
A few of the patrons scrutinized you as you meandered up the stairs. Down the hall, there were several doors and you looked around wildly for any clue to indicate which you were supposed to enter. The delivery instructions weren’t very detailed. Maybe there was a convenient little sign with a convenient little arrow that said “Deliveries for Jinx right through here!”
No such luck. But just before a slight panic set in, you noticed the big door at the end of the dimly lit hall. That had to be it.
You knocked politely on the door, and Jinx’s muffled voice from inside called for you to come in.
The handle turned and you pushed the door open only to find the room empty, much to your surprise. The chance that you hallucinated Jinx’s voice is low, but you supposed it was never zero as you could not find her inside. Moving to the center of the room, you set the box down on the table in front of the reddish couch and took in your surroundings.
The large, circular mosaic at the back of the room served as your only source of light, but it offered plenty of illumination for you to see the paintings hanging above the couch, mostly depicting landscapes. They couldn’t be Jinx’s work—she preferred bright colors and these paintings lacked vibrancy. A few closed chests scattered around the room, and there was a cabinet off to the side of the desk, both of their contents a mystery. There was a phonograph to your right; you wondered what kind of music Jinx listens to. Everything in this room was rather antiquey, and it didn’t look like a workshop. Much less Jinx’s workshop. Various books sat on the desk in front of you, and as you tilted your head to better read the titles, a dark figure from above suddenly dropped onto the desk with a heavy thud.
You jumped back and screamed. Jinx laughed.
“Holy sh—You scared the shit out of me Jinx!” you exhaled a shaky sigh, your hand on your chest.
She hopped down from the desk in one fluid motion. “Glad ya made it here in one piece,” she giggled.
“Yeah, me too. Say, is this your workshop?” you asked, surveying the room again. Dull paintings, dark and cohesive color schemes, an old music player. “It’s not really what I was expecting.”
“Oh nonono, silly. This is my dad’s office.”
You choked on your saliva.
“Easy now!” she slapped your back, which only seemed to make it worse.
This is Silco’s office? You thought you were going to visit Jinx’s workshop—why hadn’t she mentioned this? You looked around again at the layout and objects in the room; they make more sense now. You supposed she never explicitly said that you were going to be delivering the box to her workshop, you just made that assumption considering your last conversation. You only wished she had told you ahead of time. This felt like an invasion of privacy. Like you weren’t supposed to be here.
“Well? Wanna see my drawings?” Jinx peered at you curiously.
Shifting on your feet, you nodded. You were already here, you might as well see what she’s been doing with all the materials you’ve sold to her.
She approached the desk, then knelt and crawled under it. She lay on the floor, staring up onto the bottom of the desk.
Oh, okay. It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you mimicked her nonetheless. Moving to lay beside her on the floor, you wondered what you were going to see.
You gasped.
A hundred little drawings on the underside of Silco’s desk. A plethora of different colors; pinks, blues, greens, yellows, reds, oranges, purples. The doodles seemed to glow in the dark. Animals, shapes, symbols, and creatures—anything and everything you could think of. There was even a little ogre that looked suspiciously like Sevika. You reached out to touch a small, pink sun on your upper right, tracing its blue rays, and feeling the cool, smooth wood of the desk under your finger. Due to the abundant pollution, you haven’t ever seen the stars, but it sure felt like you were stargazing. It was enveloping; you could get lost in it.
You tried to find words. “Jinx, this is—”
The door opened loudly, interrupting. You banged your head on the desk in your hurry to get up. Your head throbbing and still on your knees, you scramble out from under the desk, only to find yourself face-to-face with Silco. Or rather face-to-toe, the tip of his shoes inches away from your nose.
You peered up. “Oh…um. Silco.”
“How astoundingly perceptive,” he said in a controlled tone.
He stood before you at his full height, exuding a refined, intimidating energy. The white of his tie stood apart from his otherwise dark outfit, a maroon button up beneath a black vest, embellished with various shiny buckles and buttons. His office looks exactly like him, you thought. You shook this idea away; you have more pressing matters at hand.
Laughing nervously, you stood up. “Hello, I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
You couldn’t tell if he was mad or not. Truthfully, you’ve never seen him express more than two emotions in the brief time he spent at your shop. The two being the wonderful emotions of boredom and disdain. “Right, well. Thank you for your…patronage?”
His face carried no hint of discernable emotion. “Care to explain what you are doing in my office?”
Fuuuuckkkk. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Jinx hadn’t told Silco you were coming either? Yet another critical thing she hadn’t mentioned.
“Oh, it was me. I ordered a delivery here,” Jinx’s voice finally piped up from below, saving you from what would’ve ended in complete and utter disaster. She moved towards the table where the box rested and began to open it.
He turned to face her, “And here I thought you preferred to do these transactions in person.”
“Eh,” she shrugged, inspecting an uncapped marker in her hand. “Changed my mind.”
He shifted his gaze onto you again, and you fought back the sudden urge to shrink away. You hadn’t done anything wrong; you were simply doing your job—minus the part where you were under his desk, which must have looked absolutely insane to him.
“Yeahhh, that’s the stuff!” Jinx hollered, exuberantly inhaling the marker, her nose practically pressed against it.
“Jinx!” Silco scolded. “Enough. We already inhale enough toxins in this forsaken place as it is.”
A blue dot appeared on the end of her nose as she pulled the marker away. You locked eyes and motioned to your nose with your hand. Her finger rubbed against her nose in a futile attempt to remove the color, and you suppressed a laugh as it smudged.
Your face straightened up quickly after you realized Silco was watching you. His eyes bore into you with such intensity that the feeling that you’ve overstepped your boundaries returned with a forceful rush, heightening your senses and drying up your mouth.
Pursing your lips, you looked at Jinx as you excused yourself, not wishing to be on the receiving end of another glare from Silco. “You seemtabe happy with your purchase, sooo goodbye then,” nearly backing into the door on your way out in your hurry, your words slurring slightly.
Adrenaline carried you down the hall, and back down the stairs. The whole situation felt more and more like some strange dream: the office’s dark atmosphere, Jinx’s hair tickling you as you lay next to her, pink and blue stars at your fingertips, a single orange eye penetrating your soul.
A dream, but a miracle too. That somehow you were still alive after a confrontation with Silco. You weren’t sure if he would kill you in front of his daughter, but you sure as hell didn’t want to find out.
Just as you were about to exit the establishment, you hesitated. Turning on your heel, you made your way back to the bar. You’ve never considered yourself much of a drinker, but right now, you knew damn well you needed a drink.
