[ Jinx hopes that she moves, adrenaline alighting her veins, every previous act of destruction playing out in the corner of her eye. In her fantasy, Caitlyn jerks hard to the left, and the answering shot rings out on instinct, simple as breathing. She whirls and bites and claws because no one’s given her an outlet for her grief or anger since she got here. They won’t even admit what she is, trying to make her into something happier, softer, kinder.

But Jinx has seen Caitlyn fight. She won’t go easy.

Her finger flicks the barrel. ]

Think your civilian body count’s higher than mine now.

[ ‘Cause Jinx doesn’t count enforcers or the council as innocents. How can the complicit expect mercy from her? Silco would never have gifted it to them. Even Viktor — once from the Undercity — hardly seems like a person, anymore. More of a philosophy in human form. Jinx tsks. She lifts her hand away, but the gun stays where it is, nudging along Caitlyn’s spine. ]

Feel free to turn around, if you wanna see my pretty face so bad.

[ A shot to the back of the head or the face kills just the same. ]