Marvel: Playing Iron Man, Falling In and Out of Love with Jinx

Outside the Highland Hotel

"How the hell did it come to this?"

Duke frowned as he looked at Graves, whose chest was soaked with blood. They had just returned from the docks when they found Jayce and the others huddled miserably outside the hotel, guarding their luggage like refugees.

Graves looked like a human chimney, smoke billowing nonstop from his mouth.

"Damn it, those bastards from Ocko's gang treated us like rats trapped in a barrel. They tried to corner and kill us! If I hadn't reacted fast enough, I'd have been done for!"

Graves swore as he puffed a thick cloud of smoke. Jayce sat on one of his suitcases, clothes disheveled and a far cry from his usual self-assured image.

Duke nodded slightly. Gangplank's influence in Bilgewater ran deep, so deep, in fact, that he likely knew what every gutter rat was thinking. His word carried more weight than even the ruling council's.

That the City Hall would so brazenly try to murder delegates from Piltover? Classic pirate city behavior.

And it only underscored just how powerful Gangplank had become.

"Duke, be honest with me," Jayce said, standing up with a grim look. "Why exactly did you come to Bilgewater?"

He had expected a warm welcome from Bilgewater's leadership, a gala, a banquet, polite conversation about their experimental collaboration. Maybe a bit of envy when he mentioned the Hexgate project.

Instead?

The moment they set foot in City Hall, they were greeted not by red carpets and flowers, but by blades and bullets.

"That was my oversight," Duke admitted calmly. "But I'll take care of it. All of it."

"All of it?" Jayce growled, kicking his suitcase. "I'm initiating long-distance communications. I'll petition the Council to cancel this entire project and request an immediate return to Piltover."

Duke glanced at List, who stepped forward in his place and said, "Apologies, Mr. Jayce, but the Swordfish, the ship we came on, was sunk by ruthless pirates not long ago. The entire crew… didn't make it. We can't go back."

"What?" Jayce's mouth fell open in shock.

"Then what do we do now?"

"We follow Mr. Duke's lead."

Jayce's voice cracked with disbelief. "Follow him? After what just happened?! How the hell are we supposed to get out of this mess?"

He was nearing collapse. Duke didn't respond. Instead, he sat beside Graves and asked for a cigar. After clipping the end, he stuck it in his mouth. Edith stepped in to light it for him.

"What's with the luggage?"

"Hotel threw it out," Graves replied bitterly. "Said they won't be hosting us anymore, and no refunds either."

Watching Duke fumble with the cigar, Graves let out a dry chuckle. "Didn't think you smoked."

"I'm learning. Got a problem with that?" Duke shot him a look, then added casually, "Once this mess is over, I'll make you a new weapon. And your pay's getting bumped up."

"Now that's what I like to hear."

Graves grinned, trying to numb the pain with another drag. Duke, meanwhile, looked over at Jayce's pitiful state.

"Pack your things. We're moving."

"I'll have everything handled in three days. Your project will continue."

Jayce crouched down, holding his head in frustration. "And just how are we supposed to keep it going under these conditions?"

Duke took a long drag, then exhaled. "That's your problem to solve."

"Let's go, Graves. Don't tell me you don't have a safehouse around here."

"Heh, as a matter of fact, I do."

Graves winced but stood up and led the group away from the hotel. Duke casually pulled out a frost grenade, popped the pin, and tossed it behind him.

With a soft crack, a wall of ice bloomed at the hotel's front gate.

My money is mine to waste, but if I'm not paying you, don't think you can rob me.

That frost grenade? Consider it interest collected. Since the whole city already treated them like enemies, why not go all in?

,

About thirty minutes later, they arrived in a grungy alley near the port.

Under Graves' lead, they entered an abandoned warehouse. Oil slicks coated the floor in grimy layers, but Graves looked completely at home, plopping himself onto a wooden crate and dropping his gear beside him.

"Welcome to my little slice of paradise," he said grandly. "The place I grew up in."

Even wounded, Graves couldn't resist putting on a brave face. Duke handed the medkit to List. "Patch him up."

"Jayce, where's your communicator?"

"What for?"

"Calling for backup."

Duke's voice was calm, like he didn't even register the chaos around them. Jayce grudgingly opened his suitcase, pulled out the communication device, and powered it on.

"When you're done, it's my turn. I need to report all this to the Council."

Jayce shot Duke a resentful glare. From the moment they entered Bilgewater, it had been one setback after another. He was at his limit.

"Sorry, Jayce. You'll have to wait until I'm finished."

Duke nudged him aside and took over the absurdly outdated comms device.

The hextech crystal gave off a dim glow, static dancing across the disruption array. Jayce crossed his arms. "It's not even the right time window for a transmission. No one's gonna pick up."

"Don't be so sure."

Duke smiled as a blurry silhouette flickered into view.

,

"Why are you calling so early, Jayce? That's not like you," Viktor's voice came through, crisp and clear from Piltover. But then he blinked. "Wait, you're not Jayce."

"Hello, Viktor," Duke greeted him. "Things are fantastic over here. The locals are warm, the city's peaceful, and just last night, over a hundred people threw me a welcome party. It was quite the celebration."

Graves glanced at List, then whispered, "Is your boss always this good at talking complete nonsense with a straight face?"

"Watch your words. That's our boss," List replied with a straight face. "Besides, these little setbacks? Nothing for someone like him."

He tightened a bandage. "This might hurt a bit."

"If I scream, I'm not a, AARGH!"

Graves let out a yelp.

Hearing the commotion, Viktor frowned. "What's going on over there?"

"Nothing serious," Duke replied. "Just a new recruit who stubbed his toe."

No point telling them the truth. What could Piltover do from across the sea?

"Viktor, I need a favor. Patch me through to Janna. I need to talk to her."

"You're her Chosen, aren't you?"

"Sure, but being a Chosen doesn't mean I can speak across oceans. Just connect us."

"…Alright. One moment."

Viktor activated the connection. Ever since Janna's divine display during the Evaluation, the city had begun building temples in her honor. With more believers every day, her power was rapidly returning.

Soon, a screen lit up with Janna's image, her hair fluttering in the breeze.

"What's the matter, Duke?"

"I've got a question. Need your help."

"You little brat," she muttered suspiciously, leaning close to the camera. "Are you about to trick me again?"

"Goddess Janna," Viktor coughed, "please don't press your face so close to the screen."

"Fine, fine. Relax, Viktor. You're still the same anxious boy you were as a child."

Janna, knowing everyone's past in Zaun, turned back to Duke. "Alright, make it quick. What do you want? Do you know what Harrowing Night and the Black Mist are?"

Her tone shifted. "Why are you asking about that?"

"I need to know if you can dispel it," Duke said seriously. "This is important. Can you or can't you?"

Janna's expression darkened. "The Black Mist and the Harrowing are the greatest fears of mortals. The mist can turn the living into the undead. But that's not the worst part."

"It also reanimates the dead, making them a part of the mist."

"For the undead, Black Mist is like water to fish or soil to plants. Wherever the mist spreads, the undead follow."

"Can you disperse it?"

"I can," she said solemnly. "But it will cost me. A large amount of divine power and belief."

"Mist is still mist," she continued. "And wind can always disperse mist."

Impressive. Even in her weakened state, Janna's status as a divine entity still carried weight. And with more believers now, her strength was returning.

"Belief isn't a problem," Duke said confidently. "I'll put up statues of you all across Piltover and Zaun. I'll even write daily prayers into the legal code. If needed, I'll send missionaries to preach in your name."

Viktor cleared his throat loudly. "Duke, I'm still here. Could you not boast like that in front of everyone?"

But Duke wasn't lying. In the Twin Cities, his word carried massive weight. The Ferros family's grip on the city was no joke.

"Don't say that," Janna groaned. "It makes my skin crawl. I feel like I'm about to get tricked again."

Duke shrugged. "Aren't I your Chosen?"

"Since when does a Chosen constantly scheme against their own god?!"

Janna looked like she was about to cry. She knew in her gut: she was going to get dragged into something again.

"You want more followers and divine power, right?"

"…Yes."

"Then get over here. To Bilgewater."

"What?! That's the realm of Outer Gods! Are you trying to get me killed?!"

"You want divine power or not?"

"…I do."

"Then move it!"

Duke stepped aside, muttering about how overly dramatic she was.

Jayce stared, conflicted. Back at the Evaluation, everyone had treated Janna with awe. Yet here Duke was, talking to her like an old friend… or a nuisance.

Some people really are born different.

End of chapter...

To be continued...

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