Chapter Text
Your skin has five times the amount of nerve endings a human should have.
As everything hurts five times more than it normally would, you are easy to torture. In a place like zaun that would be tantamount to a death sentence. It isn't exactly the ideal birthplace for someone like you. But you try to make the best of it.
The jobs you can take should have been limited, but as you seem to hate yourself you have joined many a gang as a lowly fighter while hiding your disability.
Although whenever they found out they could never seem to kick you out fast enough. Understandably so, but it didn't make it sting any less..
Plus, climbing the ranks is impossible to do when you're busier running away from pain than trying to fight.
Not that you'd minded. Always staying at the bottom of the food chain had its benefits. Rumours didnt easily spread, and nobody really cared much if you were a little weird while avoiding pain.
Though.. with all your previous jobs, it had surprised you that people still did not get the hint that you were weak to pain and hired you anyways.
But maybe that was because all people seemed to hear about you was that you're neutral and were good with a knife. And they often needed the manpower bad enough to not dig too far into your past.
Yet as good at fighting as you were, you never expected to see yourself come to the aid of the one person more powerful than anyone else down here. But here you were, face to face with the eye of Zaun himself. In a very vulnerable position might you add.
And it seemed up to you to save him.
----
It had started out as just another day.
You just made some pretty decent deal at the underground market, and were on your way home with said deal neatly stacked in a bag.
The streets were quiet. The people that spent their night in one of the many clubs or brothels already having gone home hours ago, while the people that worked the early shifts in the mines didn't need to be up for another hour.
If anything, it was quite beautiful. It was a calm you rarely got to see down here.
The moon was peeking through the gaps between the bridges above, neon signs lighting up the parts of the lanes the moon couldn't quite reach.
The tiles on the sidewalk were slightly wet from last night's rain. And you noticed the reflections of the cluttered buildings and bright, colourful signboards in the few puddles that remained. It would have taken your breath away if it wasn't for the smog covering everything in a layer of filth.
But this was Zaun we're talking about. The dumping ground of piltover. Where the water is probably poisonous and at least a few were lurking in the alleyways in hopes of easy prey.
You let out an amused huff, as if anyone who survived long enough down here would count as easy prey.
But yes, you supposed, in these first few hours you could almost call this peaceful.
Trying your best not to trip or cut yourself on any sharp edges you slowly made your way over to your house.
You had to remind yourself multiple times to stop looking around. You were almost home. Four more blocks and you'd be able to see it. The chances of something happening got smaller every step you took.
You always felt vulnerable being alone outside. Especially at times like this, when you're tired from a night full of haggling.
Trying to buy the right ingredients for your next experiment at prices that weren't outright ripoffs could be quite hard, no matter how many times you've done it. And it left you more sluggish than you'd like.
You were doing your best to ignore the little voice in your head that was telling you this is probably the perfect time to get hurt.
You knew it was useless to worry about. Its not like you couldn't defend yourself if something did happen.
Your years under Rutherford made sure of that.
Besides, with the streets this quiet, it was the perfect time to travel from one place to another with the least amount of risk.
But thats just it, wasn't it? No matter what you tell yourself, the crippling fear of getting hurt will always remain. For someone living in Zaun you'd think you'd be used to pain by now.
Easy for them to say, you think bitterly. Their cuts don't feel like thousands of knifes tearing them apart. Their grazes don't feel like they are being burned alive and their burns don't feel like acid is being poured into their skin. They barely feel anything. Their definition of pain would be a relaxing day at the beach for you. While the smallest of pains from you would probably be absolute torture to them.
You wish you could be like others. Not having to deal with a constant need to be alert. Knowing the amount of suffering you'll go through at the slighest of cuts. You even had to research toxins that cause sensation loss in the hopes of one day walking around norm- !
Suddenly your foot got caught behind something, almost making you trip.
Wincing as a small wave of pain coursed through you, you somehow managed to jump at the last second as you tried to regain your balance.
Shit, you should stop getting lost in your mind. With a few more blocks to go you were almost there. You could wallow in self pity all you wanted then.
What did you even trip over in the first place?
Looking down, it seemed to be a broken piece of chair. Confused, you looked up and saw a familliar sign.
"Terry's".
Ah, were you this far along already? The fact you're at your favourite bar meant your place is barely five minutes away. Thats great!
Looking back down, you inspected the broken pieces in front of you more closely. This chair must have been from a fight earlier tonight, you realised.
You clicked your tongue. Terry should really get some decent security in this place. The amount of barfights seem to be increasing lately. And with Cher and Ter being the only ones managing the place, you bet they'll be in trouble before long.
You assume they are doing well for now though. All these years they have fended for themselves just fine after all.
Terry is a bear of a man, and with the tattoos he still has from his younger days running a gang, his aura can be quite intimidating if he wants it to be. Not to mention his past connections to the underworld, according to him that was.
Well, that, and most regulars love him for his abilities. For a small bar owner, Terry makes the meanest drinks. Which makes it so most fights get kicked to the curb quite fast once it gets close to where he's standing.
Besides this place also has his wife, Cheryl.
Cheryl might not be the tallest of women, a bit on the heavier side and the nicest lady you'll ever meet.. But once you mess with her family (or mention her height), she can get real feisty.
You really admire her for keeping most patrons in check. Its quite the sight seeing giant men cower in front of her small posture. Especially when it comes to her giant of a husband basically being at her beck and call. The lovebirds that they are..
Briefly stopping besides the closed sign, you looked inside the window. The place seemed to have been a mess, but it looks like they cleaned up most of it.. only a few pieces of furniture were sitting broken in a corner. With most of them left intact and standing.
You sighed in relief, just a small dispute then. If it was an all out brawl he'd have to close shop for a few days, and where would you get your drinks then?
Your mind wanders to your work there.
He and Cheryl had been kind enough to give you temporary work whenever you got fired. And even though they didn't seem to have a need for hiring a proper guard with how small and quiet the bar usually was, it scertainly was a relief to have something to fall back to.
Though, these days the need for a proper guard has finally risen. This part of the lanes has gotten a lot more tumultuous now that shimmer has slowly been spreading here as well.
You decided to ask if you could help them out again soon, or at least until you find your next job. Least you could do is work a few days for spare change now that these parts are getting more and more rowdy.
Anyway, you'll ask him tomorrow and help them with cleaning while you're at it. You're sure Cheryl will appreciate some extra hands.
Smiling to yourself, you looked towards the alley besides the bar. Should you take a shortcut for now? If you took the roofs, the five minute walk could be shortened to one. And the safest way up was directly behind this bar.
Except.. You shake your head. Not now. You might slip on the wet tiles from lack of sleep. Going for the safer route was best in this case.
Continuing your slow trek home you sigh and let your thoughts flow once more, this time paying a little more attention to your surroundings.
The doctor didn't know if it was a natural mutation or if it was from the chemicals that everyone somehow consumed. But you were born with a defect in your nerve system where your skin has five times the amount of nerve endings a human should have.
This meant that your sensitivity is five times as strong and everything hurts five times as much as it should. Quite a fucked up condition considering the place you live in don't you think? Of all the places to be born in this way it just had to be a dangerous one like Zaun.
Although your high amount of nerve endings weren't all bad. At least it was decent enough to not only curse you with more pain but also give you the blessing of more detailed senses.
Things like your hearing and eyesight were enhanced, the brightness at night seeming no different from day in your eyes.
And because of your sensitive skin, you could clearly feel the shifts in the wind around you, making it easier to dodge.
Sadly, that wasn't enough to be able to handle the larger amounts of pain.
Take breaking an arm for example, painful enough for someone other than you, right? Well if it happens to you, you can only hope you pass out, because if you don't the pain might very well drive you crazy.
You're lucky that you actually did get used to the "smaller" pains at some point. Where a papercut really did become just that, a papercut. If you still passed out from the pain every time you got a small wound at your age you would have already died long ago.
..If not from a passerby seeing your unconsious body then at your own hands to finally end this suffering.
Yeah, you're honestly glad you found good people along the way. You can't imagine what would have happened if it wasn't for Sophia stopping you that time.
After another minute of walking down the streets lost in these toughts, you suddenly heard it. the clashing of steel on steel and the pained grunts of people possibly getting stabbed up ahead. It sounded like a fight was going on in the alleyway you were about to pass. Bummer, you only had one block to go, but it seemed like you'll need to take a detour.
You weren't surprised though. Like you mentioned before, it was a common occurence these days. Gang violence was a thing that ran rampant even before silco took over. But with his new drug appearing in the streets, such violence has become slightly more common and a lot more dangerous.
Thinking of Ignoring whatever it was that was going on and wanting to finally take your hard earned nap, you had almost completely turned around. Deciding on an even longer yet safer detour, when the fighting came to a brief standstill.
You heard a vaguely familiar voice with a surprising combination of smooth and rough calmly stating something that was quite possibly threatening, followed by the mocking laughter of whoever his opponents were.
Your enhanced senses told you many details others wouldnt be able to notice right away. From what you could hear, there were a lot of people there from the sound of their earlier footsteps and laughter.
Around ten, maybe?
Yet you wondered who that calm voice belonged to. It felt eerily familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who exactly it was from.
So you stopped to listen, your tired brain making it so that curiosity got the better of you.
You reasoned with yourself that with your heightened hearing you were far enough away that they couldn't notice you unless they knew where to look. And if anything did happen, you were confident in getting away at this distance.
Thats the one other good thing your condition has done for you, you supposed..
Giving you the practice and motivation to get skilled at running away. Enough to call yourself a pro at fleeing.
You shrugged, not sure if that was something to be proud of. But it's what has kept you alive so far. Better live a coward than die a fighter as you liked to think.
You focused back on the fight. It was going on again in earnest now and from the clashes and way their footsteps were echoing, you noticed one pair of light steps weaving through a crowd of heavy ones.
...Almost as if it was nine against one..
But that would be ridiculous, right? Who could be skilled enough to survive that with what suspiciously sounded like a single knife? The amount of people that you knew of could be counted on one hand. And only two of them were light enough to barely be discernable in battle.
With one of them being you.
Yet, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was indeed all against one the more you listened. And the lone person was winning. Hearing the amount of people decrease to seven in the short time you've been there.
With the pained sounds of people dying and what sounded like bodies hitting the floor, you suddenly realised with no small amount of dread why you recognised that voice earlier. Why it sounded like it was nine against one and the one person was actually winning.
Besides you, there is only one other person with a light build who is skilled enough to do that, and he used to be your boss.
The eye of Zaun.