Undertow | Ekko x Reader

The world swirled as you stumbled back into the dim, narrow lanes of Zaun. The cool, metallic tang of the air scratched at your lungs with every heaving breath. Shadows stretched and danced under flickering neon signs, but the disorientation in your mind was worse than the uneven footing beneath you. You pressed your back against the cold brick wall, hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself.

What the hell just happened?

Your thoughts were a mess, scrambled fragments of memory slipping through your grasp like sand. You caught flashes: a sterile lab, Singed's calculating eyes, and the monster—a hulking, unnatural thing you'd barely survived. Your shoulder ached at the memory of claws raking through flesh, and instinctively, your hand shot up to press against the wound.

You froze.

No blood.

Pulling your hand back, you stared at it in shock. Your fingertips were clean, the expected slick warmth absent. Frantic now, you glanced down at your body, patting yourself down, searching for the gashes you were sure had been there moments ago. Nothing. Your skin, though clammy, was intact—unmarred, whole. The pain was gone.

"Impossible," you whispered to the empty alley, your voice a trembling echo against the silence.

Then it hit you. That syringe. The strange, iridescent liquid Singed had forced into your veins. Your stomach churned at the memory, at the cold needle biting into your skin, and the fire that had coursed through your body after. He'd muttered something you couldn't remember—something about curing death, about being a "subject."

What the hell did he do to you?

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. It wasn't shimmer—you'd seen what shimmer did to people, their bodies twisted, erratic, barely human. The substance had been different, more vibrant, yet just as unnatural. Your gaze fell to your hands, still trembling as if they belonged to someone else. What are you now? you wondered.

The sharp, familiar whistle of a tune broke through the storm in your head, freezing you in place. It came from somewhere deeper in the alley, light and carefree, but there was something unnervingly deliberate about it. The melody clawed at your memories, dredging up images of chaos and destruction. Your blood turned cold as the fragments solidified: a gun barrel aimed at your chest, the manic glint in those wide, pink-tinged eyes, and the moment the trigger was pulled.

Before you realized what you were doing, your knife was in your hand, blade glinting in the dim light as you pointed it in the direction of the sound.

"Stay back!" Your voice cracked, hoarse and raw, as the trembling in your hands betrayed your resolve.

From the shadows, she stepped into view, long blue braids swaying like pendulums. Jinx.

Her lips curled into a grin, cocking her head to the side as if you were some curious animal she'd found wandering in her playground. "Well, someone's on edge," she said, her voice lilting with mockery. Her glowing pink eyes trailed lazily down to the knife in your grip. "What's got you so jumpy, huh?"

You took a step back, your pulse hammering in your ears. The pink of her eyes gleamed unnaturally bright in the dim light, a reminder of what shimmer had done to her. Those used to be a soft, sky blue, you remembered. You lowered the knife slightly but kept your guard up.

"What happened to you?" Jinx asked, her tone suddenly sharper, like the crack of a whip. She gestured vaguely at you, her gaze darting up and down your frame. "You're all... twitchy. And sweaty. Got a little shimmer buzz in ya, huh? Or..." She squinted at you, her grin faltering. "...something worse?"