Chapter Text
Arcane Odyssey
Chapter 1: Perfectly Criminal
“There are millions upon billions of different worlds, timelines, all different, all similar. Constant and variable. There are always two cities. There are always two sisters. There is always a conflict. Tearing them apart. Pitting them against each other. But sometimes, sometimes things are different. Sometimes, things can change.”
10.000 Years Before the Founding of Demaxia (BD): The first interstellar nations appear in the Runeterra Arm of the Galaxy.
5000 BD: The Empire of Shurima colonise the resource rich Valoran Expanse and designate the planet of Valoran as the central hub for its vast galactic hyperlane network and home of the Guild of Navigators.
They name the newly established city from which this vast network would be controlled; Oshra Va’Zaun.
Piltovan, an amalgamation of languages spoken throughout Shurima and named after the River Pilt, slowly develops into the galactic lingua franca.
1500 - 1000 BD: The Fall of Shurima. After millennia of galactic hegemony, the once mighty empire fractures from internal instability and wars of succession that would eventually lead to the rise of Demaxia.
1000 BD: The Wars of Galactic Succession come to an end and sees the provinces of Demacia and Noxus among the strongest of the surviving stellar nations.
25 - 3 BD: The Rune Wars break out.
1 Year After the Founding of Demaxia (AD): With the end of the Rune Wars, the Star Kingdom of Demacia and the Dominion of Noxus are united as one.
Earning it the moniker of ‘The Empire of a Thousand Planets’.
Demaxia is founded.
1-790 AD: The Demaxian Empire establishes its hegemony across the Arm of Runeterra.
790 AD: After centuries of slow recovery from the Rune Wars, the district of Piltover is built on the northern banks of the River Pilt, splitting the once named city of Oshra Va’Zaun in two.
The Republic of Piltover is founded.
1974-1989 AD: With the conquest of Ionia, the Demaxian Empire rules supreme in the Arm of Runeterra.
Piltover and the Valoran Expanse, stand as the last bastion of freedom in the galaxy.
1996 - 2017 AD: The Runeterra War also known as the Great Rebellion breaks out as the Piltovan led Valoran League is joined by the Imperial Sectors of Ionia, Ixtal and the Freljord in the fight against the Demaxian Empire.
2017 AD: Demaxia falls to the Valoran League, bringing an end to the war and the millennia old empire with the Treaty of Demacia.
2027 AD: Present Day
The Empire of Demaxia, the thousand planets within the union of the Star Kingdom of Demacia and the Dominion of Noxus, is no more.
The free people of the galaxy broke their chains and from the Skies of Piltover to the distant edges of the Freljord, the splendour of the Ionian Freehold and the lush worlds of Ixtal — the Republic of Piltover now reigns supreme in the region of space called; The Valoran Expanse.
Ten years have passed since the Fall of Demaxia and a new age dawns upon the Arm of Runeterra. It is an age of progress and technological advancement, it is also an age of chaos and conspiracy.
An age of great deeds and unlikely heroes.
“Piltover Rules the Skies.” - Proverb of the Guild of Navigators
To an outside observer, one would be excused to mistake Caitlyn Kiramman’s room for a mess, what with almost every flat surface bar the floor covered in files. At least that is what her mother would call it. Her father would have called it ‘uniquely organised’ and her brother would have tried in vain to help her clean up and catalogue it all.
The family estate had fallen into a state of neglect following the Runeterra War and the Fall of Demaxia, the war that took the life of Cassian Kiramman and made the Great House of Piltover slowly drift apart.
Caitlyn still remembered the day her family received the news. The great General Lane himself had come to their house to deliver the news and return her brother’s effects. They told her that Cassian had died a hero’s death, that he gave his life to buy time for his team to escape from Noxus Prime with the security codes for Demacia, the capital planet of the Empire.
They told her that without his sacrifice, the Valoran League would not have been able to strike directly at the heart of Demaxia and the war would have been lost.
What Caitlyn knew was that they buried her brother in an empty casket, that her father had returned to the Ionian Freehold and her mother had taken refuge in her work as a newly elected councillor, currently the Deputy-Secretary-General of the Piltovan Council, second only to High Councillor Heimerdinger.
“I lost one child already, I refuse to lose another!” Those were the words Caitlyn’s mother had spoken to her when she told her she was joining the Piltovan Navy.
To say that Councilor Chrisjen Kiramman had been unhappy with her daughter following in her son’s footsteps would be an understatement and Caitlyn sometimes wondered if her mother’s displeasure at her choice in career was due to her regrets of not stopping Cassian from enlisting.
Caitlyn knew better, nothing would have stopped her brother once he had set his mind on something. It was one thing they had in common. The so called ‘Kiramman Pride’ or simple plain stubbornness if one were to ask their detractors.
Though her mother had not stopped her from enlisting, Caitlyn did have her suspicions that she had a hand in her eventually finding herself recruited by the Piltovan Republic Security Bureau — the RSB — following her graduation from the Naval Academy.
Caitlyn had not minded it terribly much. As an intelligence officer she protected Piltover from the shadows so the people of the Republic could live in the sun, or so Director Marcus Trench would say. The fact that her mother believed her work was behind a cushy desk and not in the field, a mere afterthought.
It was where Caitlyn felt at home.
Currently however, her home was a mismatch of cluttered files scattered across her room. The only flat space not being taken up by various books, pieces of paper, tools and overclothes strewn haphazardly across furniture rarely used, were the cupboard on which her newest acquired rifle rested and the small area she had cleared around herself at her desk.
Caitlyn was sat in an ornate leather recliner, a cup of steaming coffee by her side and holopad in her hand, pouring over an old case file concerning the death of the Zaunite biologist; Doctor Felicia Holden.
Why she was going through the details of a ten year old cold case, Caitlyn could not say, but something in the back of her mind told her it was important after having read the last personal file concerning her newest case.
At the very least, it would refresh her understanding of the current situation in Zaun if she was to venture across the river.
“Agent Kiramman, there is a mission the Council would like you to lead,” Director Marcus informed her when she had been called to his — in her opinion rather ostentatious — office. “It has to do with the ‘Zaunite Question’ and the integrity of our republic.”
Caitlyn had wanted to protest at her superior’s words, but held her tongue, knowing it would have been a futile attempt. Director Trench was of the old guard; the upper crust of Piltovan society, and the “Zaunite Question” was their preferred term for the troubles that had always persisted with their sister city across the Pilt.
The Valoran Expanse had long been desired by the Demaxian Empire. Only kept in check by the presence of the Guild of Navigators who called Piltover their home and whose expertise was vital for interstellar travel.
Valoran survived the Fall of Shurima and had in the millennia since, leveraged its position as the beating heart of the ancient hyperlane network to prosper and maintain its independence through trade and science.
Though as the people of the uppercity prospered it was the people of the undercity, the people of the Lanes — so called for having scattered across the numerous worlds and habitats connected by the hyperlanes of the Expanse — whose backs this prosperity was built on.
With Demaxia slowly encroaching upon the Expanse over the centuries and the induction of Ionia into its territories, it was all but certain that Demaxia had been gearing up for a final war of conquest. One that would see all of the Expanse under Imperial rule.
Thus when Piltover formed the Valoran League with the rebellious imperial provinces against Demaxia, it was home to the most advanced navy and best equipped armed forces in the galaxy, however they lacked the manpower to wage a galactic war and so a treaty had been proposed to the people of the Lanes.
In return for the military service of every able-bodied man and woman, the city across the Pilt would gain independence as a sovereign state, splitting the planet that gave its name to the Expanse in twain.
The elected leaders of the undercity and its people across the Expanse, among them the famed General Lane, had signed the treaty and by the stroke of a pen, the dream of Zaun had seemed to be within reach.
That dream of Zaunite home rule had died with the General in the skies above Demacia.
As their reward for winning the war against the Empire, the Council of Piltover and its Parliament of Peers declared Zaun an autonomous region under the oversight of the Republic of Piltover to ensure peace and stability during its transition into a democracy of its own.
Only there never was a new government of Zaun and in the decade since its supposed founding, the people of the Lanes still wore the shackles of old and troubles were brewing among its discontent masses.
This unrest born from broken promises and decades if not centuries of exploitation across the Expanse, was the so called ‘Zaunite Question’ as the upper crust of Piltovan society had named it. As if the continued pleas of millions was a matter too trivial for their attention.
“This comes directly from the Council itself.” Marcus had said, being quick to shut down any protests Caitlyn had been prepared to voice. “I know you have been working the ‘undercity case’ for months now, but it can wait.”
“Very well, Sir,” Caitlyn had replied, trying not to show her displeasure at having to put a case on hold.
A pause in any investigation would do little else except make current intelligence out of date, buying time for the suspects involved to slip away into the shadows they called home.
Orders directly from the Council however, were not ones to easily ignore.
“We have intelligence that informs us the Wings of Janna has been spotted in Bilgewater,” Marcus informed her, after making sure his words regarding the Council had sunk in.
Caitlyn looked at her superior, her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she registered the gravity of the situation.
The Wings of Janna was the name for a new proposed class of exploratory reconnaissance frigate by Talis Industries, outfitted with an experimental type of hexcore drive that would enable the ship to traverse the hyperlanes without the need of a Guild Navigator and the newest in state of the art weaponry.
It was meant to be the flagship of the Republic's exploratory fleet and had been on an exhibition tour across the Expanse, three years ago, during the celebrations of Progress Month, only to have been lost in the Ludum Nebula halfway through its virgin voyage to a solar flare interfering with navigations and sending the ship careening into the nearest star.
At least that was the official cover story the Council had provided the people. The truth as Caitlyn had come to learn back in her office, was that it had been stolen, but stolen by whom and for what purposes; that was the big question.
“According to our intelligence, its new crew have contacts in the undercity,” Marcus had continued, “your mission, Agent Kiramman, is to infiltrate the undercity, ingratiate yourself with the locals, locate the contacts and verify the location of the Wings of Janna.”
“And if I find the ship, Sir?”
“When you find the ship, Kiramman, you will contact the RSB immediately.” Marcus corrected Caitlyn, fixing her with a stern look as the implied threat to her career as an intelligence officer went unsaid. “This is a matter of national security and we do not need any heroics. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, Sir,” Caitlyn had replied through grit teeth.
It was an open secret within the Republic Security Bureau that Director Trench had a dislike for the young Kiramman. Her colleagues believed it was out of resentment for her quick rise through the ranks — stemming from her role in the operation that exposed the socialite, Khada Jhin, as the serial killer and assassin that had terrorised the sister cities four years ago.
Caitlyn had been the first on the scene at the dilapidated theatre he had called his lair, finding the man himself in a pool of his own blood, his mask cracked in two, his entire chest cavity had been pulverised, as if the man had been bludgeoned to death. She had spotted Jhin’s killer and engaged in a firefight with them, but they had escaped before Caitlyn’s backup arrived.
The inability of the Piltover Enforcers in catching Jhin had become a national embarrassment and thus the truth surrounding his death had been obfuscated and the RSB given the credit of putting down the killer who had terrorised the City of Progress.
Though Caitlyn suspected that Marcus’ dislike of her stemmed solely from the belief that the role of babysitter for the child of Councillor Kiramman — whose ability to hold a grudge was legendary — had been foisted upon him.
“Good, the necessary files have been forwarded to you,” Marcus had replied curtly after tapping away a few commands on his personal terminal. “Agent Nolen will be your handler on this case. I expect a report on your progress by the end of the month. You are dismissed, Agent.”
After a brief message from Agent Nolen in regard to when she were to report in and how to keep in contact, Caitlyn had returned home, finding herself in her office to go over the files sent to her.
The intelligence gathered in the case files she had received were both brimming with information and sparse on details, raising quite a few question, yet answering none.
The new crew of the Wings of Janna had renamed it the ‘Morning Star’, giving it a new gold and turquoise paint job and from the microfilm images, added quite a few ‘upgrades’ to the ship since its disappearance, especially to its two prow mounted nacelles.
The crew in itself was a small though eclectic bunch of people. How they had possibly come together was currently a baffling mystery to Caitlyn.
Their captain — to Caitlyn’s surprise — was none other than Yasuo Kusanagi, the Blade of Ionia, once a war hero and bodyguard to the rich and famous, now a fugitive from the law, wanted for the murder of his brother Yone and the destruction of the Templar Order.
Why someone like Sona Buvelle, last of the Templars, would join the crew of the alleged killer of her order was a riddle Caitlyn sought to solve.
Her brother had spoken highly of Yasuo in his messages to her from the Ionian Front. They had fought together numerous times under the command of General Lane and the picture he painted of the Blade was that of an honourable if lackadaisical man.
It was not her place to question the order for the arrest of the Blade of Ionia, but Caitlyn found herself sceptical that a man whose character her brother had praised could have committed mass murder. The fact that he had served as the personal bodyguard to Seraphine the Starry-Eyed Songstress after the war had no effect on her judgment.
There wasn’t much of interest on the third crew member; the monolithian named Malphite. Other than he was a former pit boss employed by the Bandle City Mining Guild, who had seemingly turned to a life of crime following an accident that saw to the destruction of a mineral rich moon in the Lanes.
It was the last personal file that made Caitlyn sit up straight, rapt with attention. The picture that came with the report showed a young girl — who couldn’t be older than twenty — with orange hair done up in a single large braid that went down to her ankles and a few loose locks covering the right side of her face.
The girl was dressed in a pair of hip-hugging dark blue cargo pants fitted with a harness for mounting an exoskeleton, a brown jacket and a blue crop top decorated with the skull of an alien, both short enough to expose a great deal of midriff and showcase an intricate swirl of circular gold tattoos that seemed to run from her right arm all the way down the right side of her body.
In the picture she had on an audacious smirk and was doing double finger guns directly at the camera as if she was aware that her photo was being taken from a hundred meters away.
What was most surprising however were the people shown with her.
To the girl’s left was none other than the infamous pirate captain and bounty hunter, Sarah Fortune, the de facto leader of Bilgewater. To the girl’s right was the Card Master himself; Tobias Felix, better known as Twisted Fate, his three-pointed hat pulled down slightly to shade his eyes from the sun.
Last but not least — walking behind the girl — was the hulking frame of the self-proclaimed ‘most wanted man in the Expanse’; the Outlaw, Malcolm Graves. He was smoking from what looked like an e-cigar carved out of relic stone, having apparently given up the real thing.
Most intriguing to Caitlyn was the look of fond amusement on the faces of all three directed at the red-haired girl. It was a familiar look, one she had seen on her parents’ faces many times when she had been a child, before tragedy struck. What could have brought those three individuals — known for having fought each other in the past — together and how did the girl fit into it all.
Those were the thoughts going through Caitlyn’s mind as her eyes moved to the name scribbled beneath the photo; Jinx Powder Lane.
It was reading that name that had led Caitlyn to pull up the case file for Felicia Holden.
Doctor Felicia Holden had been a brilliant biologist from Zaun, back when it was still known as just the undercity. Respected even by the scientific community in Piltover and a former pupil of High Councillor Heimerdinger when he still taught at the University, beloved by the people of the sister cities for her work in hydroponics, the chemical waste cleanup of the River Pilt, the growth of genetically enhanced moss in the fissures that stripped pollutants from the ground and the refurbishment of the massive filtration systems that ran through every part of undercity not above ground.
Doctor Holden had died shortly after the Fall of Demaxia in what the authorities at the time had classified as a house fire caused by the unsafe storing of chemicals and though the RSB had suspicions of foul play, any further investigations into the fire had been shut down by the Council.
She had lived in a house outside a small cliffside town named Night Springs — situated on the Cinn Tìre peninsula that ran alongside the western coast of Zaun — together with her husband, General Vander Lane and their two daughters; Violet and Powder who had perished with her in the fire.
Whether it was a mercy or not, that the two girls had died before word of their father’s death above Demacia had reached Piltover, Caitlyn could not answer.
At least according to official records. The RSB report mentioned that no bodies or organic residue left over from a chemical fire had been found on the site.
It was a tragedy. While Piltover celebrated their triumph over the Empire, Zaun mourned two people and their children who had come to symbolise the hopes and dreams of an independent nation.
It would be trivial to say that Zaun had not recovered in the ten years since the war ended as without either the Doctor and General’s influence, the continued cleanup of the undercity had slowly ground to a halt.
Caitlyn knew the theory her mind was cooking up was irrational. Lane was far from an uncommon name in the Expanse and the same could be said for Powder. Yet there was something in the back of her mind, nagging her, that told her there was more to this than met the eye.
That this Jinx Powder Lane or JPL — which she used for her graffiti tags according to the case file — was somehow connected to the deceased Lane family.
The RSB report made mention of suspicious individuals having been spotted in Night Springs before the fire as well as the disappearance of children in and around the undercity during the same time.
That was not to mention some of the rumours about the Lane children having survived that had circulated in the streets of Zaun shortly after.
Caitlyn rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms, letting out a yawn before draining her cup of coffee. Dismissing the theory her mind was cooking up. She had a mission already and deciding to go on a wild goose chase unrelated to it would be a waste of time and she had enough on her plate as it was.
At least it had refreshed her memory regarding the situation in Zaun.
The sun had almost disappeared beneath the horizon as Caitlyn got up from her chair and looked out upon the cityscape of Piltover glinting in the last rays of the setting sun. In the distance, barely visible through the jungle of marble, concrete and golden high-rises was the Bridge of Progress and the neon lights of Zaun.
Caitlyn let out another yawn as she stretched her limbs. She needed something stronger to relax for the end of the day, she thought to herself. perhaps she would visit that club in Zaun her friends had told her about.
The Last Drop was its name. Apparently it used to be a dive bar before a new owner had it renovated as a nightclub. Caitlyn smiled at her reflection in the window as she contemplated her plans for the evening.
“A bit of R and R would probably do me good, well that is what Mel and Jayce always say,” she told herself, “who knows, perhaps I’ll even get a little work done as well.”
Making up her mind, Caitlyn walked out of her office to plan for her solo night out and if the gods were willing, she wouldn’t end it solo as well.
"T̸h̵e̸ s̴e̵r̸u̵m̵ i̵s̶ s̶t̸a̷b̵l̴e̴ S̷u̴b̸j̴e̶c̸t̵ S̵i̴x̶ s̸h̴o̵u̵l̴d̸̴ s̴u̶r̷v̶i̵v̵e̷"
"T̴e̶s̶t̶ i̸t̸ o̵n̶ N̷i̶n̶e̸ f̸i̷r̴s̶t̸, j̷u̶s̷t̵ t̵o̴ b̷e̷ s̴u̵r̷e̵"
Zaun, the City of Iron and Glass, the Undercity of Piltover, or as many a spacer would call it; the Steely Ass-End of the Galaxy. Under Piltovan rule, crime had fallen, sequestered to a few sub-districts and kept in check with an iron hand.
With the Treaty of Zaun, things had seemed to look up, that progress would finally reach across the river, but progress had halted in the decade since the war ended.
Crime had returned. Now in the form of a confederacy of crime lords called the Chem-Baron Syndicate and as long as the worst was kept hidden away from the riverfront, Piltover was all too happy to let the impoverished masses of the Lanes remain out of sight and out of mind.
The once promising city had become a haven for the criminal and the outcast, for the bounty hunter and the smuggler.
Rain was falling lightly upon the Zaunite streets. Its tall neon-lit skyscrapers dotting the cityscape and glistening from the water that reflected the light upon a mishmash of architectural styles in various states of wear and tear.
A far cry from the clean and polished look across the river. Still, the riverfront had been kept from falling into disrepair and the central districts were in relatively good condition together with the railways that snaked their way across the city.
‘If only so the stuck-up Pilties on the north riverbank have something nice to look at.’ Those were the thoughts going through the mind of the lone figure standing on the roof of one such building, gazing at the small bazaar below.
They were dressed in a pair of heavy-duty boots, dark cargo pants held up by a set of heavy-duty belts on which grenades and electric bolas together with a pair of metal gauntlets were secured, and on their upper body, they wore a black sleeveless shirt adorned with the motif of a red wolf, topped off by a thick reddish-brown leather jacket with studded shoulder pads and a straight collar fitted with blue LEDs on the inside.
Crimson locks adorned their head, fashioned into a left-side undercut with the longer tresses swept to the right, lightly covering icy blue eyes as they shifted in the afternoon wind.
Placing one leg on the ledge of the rooftop, they put on an earpiece before pulling out a mask made of steel with brass fittings around the eye lenses and fashioned into the facsimile of a human skull with the letter V; etched into the left faceplate.
“Sev, this is Vi,” she spoke, scouting the bazaar below, “we ready?”
“HUD is up and running, your mask seems to function properly,” the harsh voice of Sevika came through Vi’s earpiece. “And I see you have spotted our target already.”
“Of course it works, I made it,” Vi replied with a smirk as the lenses in her mask zoomed in on her target who was agitatedly bellowing orders to a small gathering of chem-goons.
“Smeech, that clapped-out waste of space won’t live to see the morning,” Sevika spat as Vi heard her tap away at her keyboard from the warm confines of their aerial vehicle. “Okay, Kid, I got him locked in on the city surveillance. You take him down and I’ll provide overwatch.”
“Yeah, yeah, same shit as usual,” Vi said in jest, “while you cozy it up in the AV?”
“Just focus on the job, Kid,” Sevika replied curtly, clearly not in the mood for their back and forth.
Going over the last diagnostics check on her mask, Vi pulled from her belt, a pair of blue and gold coloured gauntlets only slightly larger than those of an armoured Demaxian knight and seemingly made of interlocking plates of varying sizes.
The newest in Zaunite ingenuity, Vi’s newest pair of Atlas Gauntlets, made with the strongest lightweight composite metals and alloys available and utilising the latest in foldable nanotechnology for ease of transport.
They were far lighter and more compact than the Talis Industries model meant to be used with a powered exoskeleton for fighting armoured opponents and more importantly to Vi, it was of Zaunite make.
That is to say that gone were the days of Vi modifying old mining gear for combat, the Atlas Gauntlets had been her creation from start to finish.
“If the so called Man of Progress could see this,” Vi laughed with derision.
“He’d probably patent it and claim it as his own,” Sevika cut in, “now get your ass moving, that borged-out yordle won’t kill himself.”
“Not for a lack of trying,” Vi shot back with disgust, as Smeech exhaled a huge cloud of foul smoke from his cigar while bellowing out orders to his men before she stepped up on the ledge and jumped.
As she fell towards the ground, Vi activated her gauntlets, hex-sphere motors whirring as plates shifted and interlocked around her hands and forearms, expanding them to their full size.
Boosters in her gauntlets activating a few meters above ground to cushion her falls as she landed in front of a speechless Smeech and his men. While the civilians who had been in the bazaar with him quickly dispersed at her arrival.
“Bounty hunter,” some of them whispered as Vi straightened herself as she looked directly at Smeech. “It’s V!”
The yordle was flanked by five of his men, who had unsheathed their green glowing chemtech blades, and had a self-assured smirk on his face as he tipped his hat in mock greeting.
“Well, if it isn’t the enigmatic V! Silco’s little hound finally tracked me down, eh?” Smeech gloated. His legs having extended to put him on eye-level with Vi and arms stretched out to his sides in a show of superiority as his men moved in front of him with a snap of his fingers. “Somebody kill this motherfu...”
Cutting Smeech’s expletives short, Vi activated the boosters in her gauntlets and zoomed forwards, sending the first of his chem-goons flying backwards with a kick. The second went down as she ducked under a slash, spun around and delivered a roundhouse to the side of her assailant’s head, his skull bouncing with a sickening crunch upon impact with the ground.
The last three were taken down in quick succession as Vi, moving faster than the blink of an eye, jumped forwards, hitting the third and fourth man hard enough to send them flying in opposite directions, before punching the last into the ground before they had a chance to react.
“Oh shit…time to go,” was the awed applause Vi received from her onlookers as she fixed her gaze upon a terrified Smeech.
Vi chuckled smugly as the yordle chem-baron turned tail and ran.
“Out of my way!” Smeech screamed, pushing past the nearest bystanders, running towards the exit of the bazaar.
Vi jumped into a sprint, following her target calmly, as she expertly dodged the debris thrown in her path by her target.
The yordle was fast, moving between people, using them as cover as Vi chased him through the murky alleys of the undercity. Unhooking one of her electric bolas. Vi quickly spun it as she jumped over a fallen vending machine.
Smeech quickly turned a corner, dodging the bola thrown at him and which hit a bystander instead. Vi swiftly jumped across the unlucky bystander who managed to utter a “son of a bitch” among his convulsions, as she made a quick turn to continue the chase down the same alley.
“Vi, he is preparing to jump!” Sevika relayed as Smeech neared the end of the alley as the next building block came into view. Using his cybernetics, he made a high jump across open air to the next block. “He's one hundred metres in front of you.”
Vi quickly scaled a couple of stacked crates to her right. Using them to boost her own jump across the chasm to the next building. Colliding with the wall before pulling herself up, setting into a run again.
Moving into open space, three of Smeech’s goons ran out on a platform above a raised ventilation tube. With weapons ready to fire. Vi unclipped one of her grenades and threw it as she fell down into a running slide beneath them, its magnetic lock homing in on the middle chem-goon and engulfing the three in fire as it exploded behind Vi.
Getting up from her slide, Vi took out another henchman who had rounded a corner, punching him out of the way and over the rooftop.
“She’s right there shoot that son of a bitch!” Smeech yelled as he gazed back at Vi on her elevated position behind him, a rooftop away. His henchmen already taking aim with their rifles.
Vi swiftly pulled another grenade from her belt. Throwing it among Smeech’s goons and taking out three of them as she jumped down. Rail powered bolts flying around her. She collided with the corner of the roof, holding on with both arms.
Grabbing the foot of chem-goon who had rushed forward to take advantage of her position, she used the added power of her gauntlets to send him falling into the streets below. Grabbing her last grenade, she threw it among Smeech’s two remaining men, before hoisting herself up.
The grenade exploded in a blue flash that quickly contracted into a vortex, lifting up the remaining henchmen. Setting into a run again, Vi jumped high, hitting both of the men with an aerial split kick, sending them flying in opposite directions as she set about to make up for Smeech’s head start.
“Don’t let him escape, Vi!” Sevika yelled through her earpiece as she watched Smeech jump to the next block. “Maglev’s running beneath you, use it to get across!”
Vi ran as fast she could across the rooftop. Maglev rails running beneath her as she quickly checked her HUD. A train would pass by in five seconds. Acting fast, Vi steeled herself as she moved towards the rails and jumped. Using her gauntlets to prolong her stay in the air. she braced her landing with a roll as he impacted with the train that just appeared beneath her.
“Close,” Vi chuckled as she looked up.
Smeech was walking away calmly. Confident in his escape. Vi did not have much time as the train approached the tunnel running through the building beneath him. Using the added speed, she jumped. Time feeling like it was grinding to a halt as she flew through the air and collided with a knee into Smeech's back, sending the yordle into an adjacent container hard enough to knock out the joints in his cybernetic legs.
Attempting to turn around, he was met with a fist to the face as she pinned him to the container. His eyes widening as his pursuer geared up for another strike.
“Wait! Wait! I'll pay you! Double…triple!” Smeech pleaded as blue light coursed through Vi’s gauntlets. “Silco’s lying to—”
Whatever he prepared to say was cut short as Vi’s gauntleted fist connected with the centre of his face and painted the entire container wall he was up against with brain matter.
Letting the yordle’s body slump to the ground, Vi wiped her gauntlets on his clothes. “Sev, it is done.”
“Understood, I’ll be there in five with the AV,” Sevika replied, forwarding the confirmation to Silco. “Should I drop you off at home or do you have plans?”
Sliding off her gauntlets and removing her mask, Vi chuckled mirthlessly. “Sev, do you even know me? Night is still young and I need a fucking drink.”
♫ Set me on fire ♫
♫ You make me wanna testify ♫
♫ But I'm standing right beside ya ♫
♫ Oh my, oh I'm ♫
“She is a thief! A criminal! A menace to all of Runeterra!” The voice the former yordle foreman who had once employed part of the Morning Star’s crew was loud enough for Caitlyn to turn down the sound on her noise-cancelling headphones. “I want that mad pixie prosecuted! I want her strung up by her braids!”
Caitlyn had changed out of her work uniform and adorned a pair of leg-hugging black slacks with a dark undercoat and a dark blue jacket lined with purple silk and embroidered with golden floral motifs. Informal enough for a night out, yet exuding an air of confidence that made any drunkard think more than twice before approaching.
‘What would Mel say if she saw me now?’ Caitlyn chuckled, pausing the recording on her personal terminal as the Kiramman gold and white colored aerial vehicle, built in the streamline moderne style so prevalent among Piltovan vehicles, landed on the rooftop helipad of the Last Drop. ‘Would she believe me if I told her this was me relaxing?’
The Last Drop was an interesting name for a club, Caitlyn mused as she was let into the roof elevator by the local security. The club itself was situated in the richer downtown district of Zaun, built on the top of one of its skyscrapers.
It was built in an older style of art deco compared to most of Piltover, it was still as grandiose as Caitlyn had expected. Walking into the exclusive VIP area, located above the dance hall and stage, she could see the club was already brimming with activity as the night’s band had already taken over from the local disc jockey.
The sound of singing and dancing muffled to a pleasant thrum through the windows overlooking the night’s partygoers. Sitting down at the bar, Caitlyn signalled the bartender and hit play on her terminal.
“Mister Zigmund, I need you to take a breath and go over the events in a calm and collected manner,” the voice of the clearly frustrated Bandle City Mining Guild official conducting the inquiry into the destruction of one of the moons in its system could be heard speaking off camera as former mining boss Zigg’s was pounding his fists and head into the desk he was sitting at.
“That maniac! She blew it up! God damn her! Damn her all to hell! She blew it up!” Zigg’s exclaimed theatrically before breaking into what Caitlyn expected to be sobbing.
This ‘Jinx’ had certainly turned out to be an interesting individual and the mining disaster that led to one of the Bandle systems moons being cracked in two, was just one of many crimes attributed to her. It certainly explained the outstanding warrant out for her arrest that the Mining Guild had issued.
Caitlyn placed her order as the bartender approached her and turned off the recording. Brushing a hand through her hair, gazing at the various bottles from across the Expanse behind the bar, her mind wandered to the ‘undercity case’ that she had been working on before Director Trench had saddled her with the Morning Star case.
Since Khada Jhin’s murder, four years ago, someone had been systematically taking out the power structure of chem-barons and other prominent individuals of power in Zaun. All killed the same way. With extreme blunt force trauma.
Evidence was next to non-existent, but Caitlyn had a feeling the killings had all been perpetrated by the same suspect. The same person she fought four years ago in Jhin’s lair.
Leads were sparse, but from what Caitlyn could glean from linking all of the victims and their associates together, the intelligence she had gathered pointed towards one individual benefitting from their deaths.
The so called Son of Zaun, a title he had earned for his continued support of the late Felicia Holden’s efforts to clean up the undercity, one of the most powerful men in Piltover; Vector Silco.
♫ A passionate survivor ♫
♫ The victim of a perfect crime ♫
♫ Ya left without a trace ♫
♫ Behind ya ♫
“Your drink, miss.” The bartender interrupted Caitlyn’s musings as he slid her El Pepino towards her.
“Those cucumbers look suspiciously like zucchini, Thieram,” a voice spoke over Caitlyn’s shoulder. “I thought you knew your shit?”
The bartender, Thieram, looked like he had been hit by an avalanche as he froze, his complete attention on the newcomer.
“I’m just fuckin’ with yah, relax,” the newcomer joked as they took a seat beside Caitlyn while Thieram visibly let out a breath of air in relief. “Give me a tequila on the rocks and leave the bottle.”
Turning to look at her newly acquired company, Caitlyn studied the woman who had somehow sent the fear of the gods into the poor bartender. Wearing a pair of tight grey jeans, a black tank top and a dark brown leather jacket that she had thrown over the back of the bar stool, displaying her athletic frame and the numerous intricate tattoos running along her back and snaking down her arms in machine-like patterns.
Caitlyn thought the woman underdressed for their surroundings, but she could deduce that she must either know the staff or be important enough that she could ignore the implied dress code.
In her opinion the woman was stunning, beautiful even, but with an edge to her features that brought to mind the look of a fighter, amplified by the ancient Noxian numeral for six tattooed on her left cheek, which only drew attention to her rather large expressive eyes. Her voice too was attractive, husky and sweet, but with an undertone of danger to it. Only adding to the allure of this mystery woman.
‘Definitely not the kind of girl my mother would approve of,’ Caitlyn mused as she took a sip from her drink.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Vi spoke as she turned to look at Caitlyn, studying her brazenly with a smirk on her face. “Name’s Bishop.”
“Is there a meaning to that name or is it actually yours?” Caitlyn asked, unfazed by the attention.
“The bishop is a versatile piece, able to protect your pawns and threaten your opponent, keeping them in check until you have lined up your pieces to deliver a checkmate,” Vi replied, waving a hand matter-of-factly as Thieram placed her drink in front of her together with the bottle and hurriedly scurried away.
“Sorry for saying this, but you don’t look like the chess playing type.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not, that was all my old man.” Vi let out a short laugh as she emptied half her glass. “With that out of the way, you didn’t tell me your name, Cupcake?”
Caitlyn smiled, raising her glass in return. “—Thilda.”
♫ N' no matter what you plead ♫
♫ I know what you do to me ♫
♫ But I'll keep lying through my teeth ♫
♫ 'Cause it's all so… ♫
“—it was recommended by a friend,” Caitlyn explained as she downed the last of her tequila, offered by Vi after finishing her previous cocktail.
“So, soft Piltie girl decides to slum it in the undercity?” Vi replied cheekily, refilling her glass. “Can’t say I haven’t heard that before. You sure you wouldn’t rather be home getting pampered by servants as you laze around in your silken sheets? Zaun can be a dangerous place.”
Caitlyn laughed as Vi trailed off, swirling her rock glass, “You should know, Bishop, that my silk hides plenty of steel.”
“Does it now,” Vi replied, “and do you plan on showing some of that steel anytime soon?”
“Well, that is up to you, miss Bishop?” Amused, Caitlyn rested her chin on her left hand. “—you looking to add another notch to your bedpost?”
“Oh, Cupcake, if I started adding notches, I’d have no bed left,” Vi drawled, tossing back her drink.
“Bold,” Caitlyn commented and followed suit. “Or perhaps the ‘tough’ undercity Zaunite is afraid this ‘soft’ Piltie might teach her something?”
Cutting straight to the chase, Vi dropped whatever pretence she had left. “Cupcake, this ‘tough’ undercity Zaunite is going to eat you up.”
“Careful now, or you might bite off more than you can chew.”
“Oh I won't just bite.”
♫ Perfectly criminal ♫
♫ Take what you want from me ♫
♫ Perfectly criminal ♫
♫ How do you keep gettin' off so easily ♫
♫ Now I'm under your control ♫
♫ 'Cause the way you move your lips is so believable ♫
♫ Perfectly criminal ♫
Caitlyn’s naked back hit the tiles of her shower wall, making her gasp from the coldness before her lips crashed into an equally naked Vi’s as hot water cascaded around them.
How they had made it from the Last Drop to Caitlyn’s AV and all the way back to her penthouse apartment (she might be drunk, but she wasn’t stupid enough to bring strangers back to Bluewind Court) and shower, she could not say.
Was this a mistake; potentially, if what she was looking for was a relationship.
No, this was nothing but a simple fling. This was her indulging her desires for one night, come the morrow, it would be business as usual and this woman; Bishop, would simply be one of many others whom Caitlyn had shared her bed with. Or shower at the moment.
“Too much for you, Tilly?”
Vi grinned, pulling away from Caitlyn who let out a yelp as the tattooed woman grabbed her ass and lifted her up in the air with her back resting against the wall. Positioning both of her legs on their broad shoulders, Vi gazed up at her.
“Told ya I was going to eat you up!”
“Just shut the fuck up and take me!” Caitlyn reprimanded as she cupped Vi’s head in both her hands.
♫ You could kill me with desire ♫
♫ N' I guess that I should run and hide ♫
♫ But I know that you'd comе and find me ♫
♫ I can't believe anything that you say ♫
♫ But you could lie to me any day ♫
♫ And I'll keep buying it from you ♫
"D̵o̵n̶'̷t̵ ̴l̵e̵a̶v̴e̴ ̸m̷e̸!̴"
A dark figure bathed in the light of fire was holding her sister by the neck as she lay in her own blood. Their house was on fire. In the distance screams could be heard, drowned out by the falling rain.
People cloaked in black were stood behind her, unmoving like statues, wreathed in shadows.
"V̶̹̓I̴̛̬O̸̺͂L̵͈̊E̸̼̕T̸̝̅,̴̣̄ ̵͂͜P̵̯̀L̴̫̀E̷͓͆Ã̵̭S̵̯͌E̶͙̐,̴͔͝ ̵͙͆G̸̨͠E̴͉͛T̵̾͜ ̵̥̓Û̴ͅP̸̩̍!̸͈̔"her sister cried. But she was powerless, unable to do anything but scream as the figure slowly drove a blade into her body, watching as the light slowly drained from her eyes, casting her into the waters below as she took her last breath.
"S̶h̸e̸'̴s̴ ̷a̴ ̶f̷i̷g̶h̴t̵e̵r̴ ̸t̴h̸i̵s̶ ̶o̴n̷e̶.̴"
"S̸h̸e̴ ̵w̸i̴l̴l̴ ̵s̸e̷r̴v̴e̷ ̸t̷h̷e̵ ̶C̸u̵l̵t̷ ̵o̸f̴ ̵K̷o̷s̸m̴o̷s̷ ̴w̷e̵l̷l̷.̴"
"Be born anew, Deimos."
Vi woke to unknown surroundings, the sun was still down, but the first morning rays were appearing on the horizon and dimly shining through the windows of Caitlyn Kiramman’s bedroom.
‘Always the same fucking dream,’ Vi thought to herself as she sat up.
The dreams had grown less frequent over the years, no longer as vivid, the details of that fateful night blurring together, but when they did return, they did with a vengeance. The emotions just as vivid as she could remember.
Her mother gone, her sister cast into the depths of Stillwater Bay and her friends lost in the chaos.
‘Powder is dead, there is no changing that,’ she told herself once again, half-heartedly.
Silco had found her, lying in a pool of her own blood, he had saved her, only to tell her on the operating table that her father had perished in the skies above Demacia.
Now all they had left were each other, the last of their ‘family’, the only ones who could carry on the dream of Zaun and Vi would be damned if she would allow that dream to die.
Gazing at Caitlyn’s sleeping form, the memories of last night came to the forefront, and Vi smiled with a shake of her head. ‘A pleasant distraction, nothing more.’
In a few moments, the ‘soft’ Piltie and she was soft in all the right places — if you asked Vi — would be nothing but a distant memory, another among many forgotten faces whose warmth she had sought out, a respite from memories past, nothing more.
Taking one last look at ‘Thilda’, Vi got out from under the covers, quickly dressed and slipped out onto the rooftop, calling her personal AV to take her back to Zaun.
Back to where she belonged.
Caitlyn woke contently to a pleasant morning an hour later, alone in her bed, Vi’s warmth still lingering on the sheets.
♫ Perfectly criminal ♫
♫ Take what you want from me ♫