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Chapter Text

Iron, copper, metal. Ruptured capillaries inside her lungs mixed with blood and saliva. Balancing on a rusty pipe—the Undercity’s seesaw. Running away until her irises wobbled with haze, like static on a television screen. These actions were automatic for the children of the underworld. A heavy blow landed with a sickening thud, echoing her bones.

Vi tasted blood for the first time when she was fifteen years old. She had stolen a rubber ball made up of several elastics from a shopkeeper. Running away quickly became a skill she mastered, and she kept running until they gave up looking for her. Clutching her neck, she dry heaved. Vi slid down the wall, feeling each stone brick collide with her spinal discs. The briny taste that ran down her throat was unfamiliar; a cesspool of acidic body fluids.

Another burst of pain crackled across her jaw, causing her gums to rupture. By now, Vi was used to the pulsations of a wound. Deep crimson seeped through the bandages wrapped around her calloused knuckles as she swung back with fury, connecting her fists to her opponent’s temple. She was always bleeding somewhere, on the surface of her body or inside, coursing through her veins.

It had been eighteen months since Vi retreated back to the undercity. Her reputation was much worse before it got better. The badge on her heart served as a reminder of her betrayal, both to herself and to her people. Rumours of her traitorous affairs spread through every sliver of Zaun, its stench lingering on skin like cigarette smoke. Whispers, no matter how disturbing, rarely fazed Vi. Yet, Caitlyn’s abandonment left a hole in her heart that she felt needed to be filled with redemption. She channeled her anger, grief, and guilt into what she did best, the one thing that would never leave her: fighting.

Vi became widely known in the underground boxing rings. Her skill was far unmatched, honed from the many years she spent in Stillwater. Her drive to win stemmed from her desire to avoid feeling weak—both physically and emotionally. Slowly but surely, she became a fan favorite. Other fighters respected her, but some feared her, seeing her as an unstoppable force, a pillar of raw power with nothing to lose.

Like a moth to a flame, one final strike recoiled her opponent down to the floor, his skull bouncing on the concrete. Shockwaves of cheers erupted from the spectators around her, vibrating through her skeleton as she stood below the pit. With her arm lifted high in the air, the weight of her victory surged through her. Her muscles burned, each throb a reminder of self punishment, as if pain itself could somehow atone for what she couldn’t face. The rush of adrenaline numbed her, offering temporary relief to the thoughts she refused to name.

Thoughts of Caitlyn. Always Caitlyn.

The roars in the pit soon faded, but the memory of her touch remained, ghosting along her skin, more haunting than the bruises that formed there. Victory never felt so empty.

"The usual?"

Vi sat slumped on the barstool, her elbow propped on the counter as she rubbed her temples. She didn’t bother looking up at the bartender. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to find peace in the noisy atmosphere. Her life had become a broken record—the same bar, the same drinks, the same empty daily routine.

She hummed a soft note of confirmation, barely audible over the thumping music. Loris, the bartender, knew her well enough by now. A man of few words with most customers, but he was talkative when it came to Vi. Perhaps he found solitude in her loneliness. Vi never really wanted to talk, but Loris didn’t seem to mind. He filled the space between them with his chatter, telling stories about the strange regulars, anecdotes from his youth, and the occasional commentary on life that made her wonder if he saw more than she let on.

Taking a sip of her glowing green drink, Vi let the taste stay in her mouth . Loris was unusually quiet tonight. He loitered around with a glass, rubbing the inside with a washcloth. Vi barely noticed the way his movements slowed until he let out a sigh and placed the glass down harder than intended. She glanced up to see him leaning against the bar, his brow furrowed in a way that was rare for him.

"Another one missing," he said flatly, his voice low.

Vi didn’t respond immediately, but she didn’t need to. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The disappearances had become a disturbing pattern, whispered about in the alleys and down the lanes of Zaun.

At first, she dismissed it. Fighters from the Pit had plenty of reasons to disappear—debts, grudges, or simply running from the harsh conditions of living in the Undercity. But this wasn’t just any pattern. All of the missing fighters shared two things: they had all fought in the Pit, and they all crossed paths with Vi in the ring.

"Gunner," he said, his voice quieter now. "The guy you just fought. They can’t find him anywhere. Not since the match."

Vi’s grip on the cup tightened a little. Alcohol was supposed to drown her thoughts, but tonight, no matter how much she drank, her mind raced faster than the liquid could slow it. She barely noticed the man until he slid onto the stool beside her. He wasn’t subtle either, his trench coat was crude, slightly wrinkled, and dark enough to blend with the shadows of the bar. Vi stole a quick glance, her brows knitting in mild surprise. People rarely approached her unless they had something to prove, or something to lose. Though her name carried weight in Zaun, it was a double edged knife. Most people admired her from a distance but found her unpleasant to engage with beyond a few words.

"Next one’s on me," he said.

Vi turned slightly, her eyes tracking the couple of dirty coins he tossed onto the counter. They spun once before falling down. Who was this guy? Middle aged, jet black hair slicked back to just above his ears, a faint scar cutting across the bridge of his nose. He didn’t look the type to be making casual remarks in a place like this—or toward someone like her. The thought that he might be trying to flirt with her almost made her laugh. She scoffed internally, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. Maybe she was feeling a little more mischievous than usual tonight.

"Flattered," she replied, sarcasm dripping, "but not interested."

She expected him to falter, maybe stammer an apology or twiddle awkwardly, but he didn’t. Instead, he met her words with a calm, almost calculated composure. It wasn’t the reaction she wanted.

His silence got on her nerves. Vi’s irritation lit up, she didn’t have the time for strange, cryptic men to intrude on her free time.

“Okay, beat it, old man,” she snapped.

Loris slid a glass of the glowing green liquor toward the man without so much as raising an eyebrow. The stranger picked it up, swirling the liquid lazily, as if her words hadn’t even registered. He brought the glass to his nose, inhaling the biohazardous scent of the drink.

Vi’s jaw tightened as she watched him. The casual dismissal of her words, the way he ignored her entirely, it really got on her nerves. She began to push herself off the stool, ready to force him out the hard way, but before she could, he took a large gulp of the drink.

He set the glass down with a satisfied sigh. Then he spoke. “I have information,” he said, his eyes meeting hers for the first time, “that might be of interest to you, Violet.”

The use of her full name ignited a spark inside her, fueling her annoyance. Vi had always been quick to anger, her short temper as much a part of her character as the scars on her knuckles. She'd heard it all before and she didn't have the patience for another crazy Zaunite to cross her.

She leaned forward and grabbed the stranger’s coat, her fist balling the fabric tightly. “You’ve got about three seconds to spit it out before I throw you out myself,” she growled.

The man didn’t flinch. Instead, he uttered a couple words that knocked the breath out of her. “It’s your sister,” he said. “Jinx.”

Vi froze. The name hit her like a dirty punch to the gut. Jinx. She hadn’t heard it in months, hadn’t seen her sister in nearly two years.

But the shock didn’t last. Vi wasn’t one to let her guard down for long. She tightened her grip again, dragging him closer until their faces were inches apart.

“Don’t you dare talk about her,” she snarled venomously.

As she spoke, something slipped from the man’s coat pocket. A piece of yellow, crumpled paper fluttered to the ground between them. This caught her attention and her eyes flicked downwards, anger temporarily replaced by curiosity.

Her breath stopped, eyes widening.

The drawing on the paper was unmistakable—a smiling monkey, the same graffiti Jinx used to sprawl across walls of Zaun. Beneath the drawing were scattered scribbles and arrows pointing toward what looked like structures, accompanied by code words she couldn't figure out.

Vi let go of his coat, and she bent to pick up the paper. Loris’s gaze flickered between Vi and the man. He didn’t need to be part of whatever this was. With a quiet sigh, he turned and disappeared into the back.

Vi’s attention dropped back to the paper in her hand. The scrawled words “Last Operation” caught her eye. The edges of the page were ripped, as if torn—snatched from someone’s grip. It was an operation, no doubt, and judging by the phrasing, it was the final one of something big. Her eyes roamed further over the sketches of structures, weapon designs, and the outline of gas canisters. But one thing was clear, this paper carried her sister’s trace.

“What is this?” Vi demanded. “Where did you get this?”

The man dusted off his coat, though the effort was pointless; the damage was beyond saving. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if savoring the control he held in the moment.

“They’re looking for her,” he said, his gaze locking with Vi’s. “And they won’t stop until they find her.”

The confusing statement only fueled her frustration. Her fist slammed down onto the bar counter with a force that rattled the glasses nearby. “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, patience stretching thin.

The man chuckled bitterly. The laugh wasn't meant to be funny, it was meant to hurt. He slowly reached across his body, fingers grasping his sleeve. Vi’s breath caught in her throat as he rolled the fabric up. His arm was a horrible sight. Strange boils covering the skin, peeling back in layers, as if it had been scorched by fire. But it wasn't just a regular burn. The wound was deeper, almost as if the tendons had melted and fused together. Vi had seen a lot of wounds in her years of fighting, but this ... she had never seen anything like this.

“This is what they’ve started doing to us,” the man fumed. “They’ve started doing it to all of Zaun. And they won’t stop until they find Jinx.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes flickering between the wound and the piece of paper in her hands. It made no sense. Nothing made sense.

“They’re trying to flush her out of hiding.”

Vi returned to the paper, glancing at the sketch of the gas canister. The realization startled her. The boils, the peeling skin. She thought it was fire, maybe chemical burns. But no. It was gas.

She took a deep breath, the weight of realization weighing on her. Gassing the Undercity wasn’t just for criminals or rebels. It would affect everyone. Children. Families. Those who were scraping by in Zaun, doing their best to survive. The effects would be catastrophic—scarring them forever.

Destruction. Bodies. And Jinx, her sister. How could anyone be so cruel, willing to sacrifice so many lives just to find one person?

“Who would do that?” she asked, a sob in her throat.

The man rolled his sleeves down, hiding the evidence of the brutal attack. He leaned back slightly. “The leader herself,” he responded. “Caitlyn Kiramman.”

The name squeezed her heart. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't speak. The paper crumpled further in her hands. Her long-buried memories forced its way to the surface.

Caitlyn.

The woman who had stood by her. The woman who had abandoned her and left her in her dark. Now, her morals seemed overshadowed by a thirst for revenge. Caitlyn, blinded by her personal crusade against Jinx. Of course, it was Caitlyn.

Vi swallowed hard, her throat dry, thoughts spiraling. Even after everything, the memory of Caitlyn felt vivid, as if she were standing in the room. And yet, it was vague too, like sand slipping through her fingers. Vi had always held Caitlyn to a higher standard, believing—hoping—that she could never become someone so ruthless and cold. Perhaps that was just a way for Vi to cope with the loss of her lover, holding onto fragments of the woman she thought she knew.

"You have to put an end to this. You’re the only one who can."

The mention of Caitlyn had been enough to shake her, but the thought of her as a genocidal monster, a person willing to gas an entire city, even if it meant killing Vi herself, was too much to bear.

Vi felt her heart fracturing into shards, turning into hatred. "But how can I stop them by myself?" she asked.

The man gazed at her, his stare like a dagger aimed straight at her heart. "You have to eliminate her," his tone unyielding. "They all answer to her. Only you can do this, Violet."

The weight of his words were heavy. Kill Caitlyn? Kill her for good? The monster of Piltover who had once been her everything—the object of her desire, her solace, her addiction. Caitlyn Kiramman, the mirage she reached for in the desert of her life, the person she fought and bled and drank to forget.

Vi shuddered as she felt a deep ache, instinctively clutching at her heart, but the pain wasn’t there. It came from the scar on her abdomen, the one Sevika had left years ago. Her hand pressed tightly against the spot, her mind pulling her back to the moment when Caitlyn saved her.

Her vision blurred, eyes suddenly glowing a sparkling shade of purple. The infamous shimmer coursing through orbs for a brief second before fading back to blue. That shimmer—Caitlyn had given it to her back then to heal the stab wound. Vi remembered the hallucinations, the way Vander’s voice called to her, the image of her sister’s face before she thought she’d die.

But what she remembered most was Caitlyn.

Caitlyn’s sapphire eyes, like calmness amidst chaotic waters. The radiating warmth of her palms as they cradled Vi’s face, breath trembling against Vi’s lips. The feeling of her fingers brushing Vi’s skin, so gentle and reassuring it almost hurt.

Vi’s grip on her abdomen tightened as if the scar had reopened, a searing reminder of the day it all fell apart. The same place Caitlyn had jabbed her during their final confrontation—the moment she left Vi to rot in Zaun, an injury far deeper than a thousand punches.

Caitlyn Kiramman, you are already dead to me.

Vi’s expression hardened as the storm inside her stilled, replaced by a cold resolve. She met the man’s eyes, and for the first time, her voice didn’t waver.

"Okay."

A massive chandelier hung in the center of the ballroom. Waiters weaved through the crowd, carrying trays of champagne.

The Kiramman manor, one of the most luxurious estates in Piltover. A place of prestige, a symbol of wealth and power. Only the luckiest or most cunning people dreamt of being invited to a cocktail party or gathering.

But the Kiramman estate was more than just a luxurious mansion. It's a museum of history, a tribute to all the Kiramman legacies that stood before it. Generations of matriarchs have called it home, their portraits hung up on the walls. Caitlyn grew up under their watch.

Upstairs, Caitlin leaned against the railing, her sharpshooter eyes scanning the guests below. She stood out from the crowd, not only in status but also in style. Unlike the other women, who wore flowing gowns and sparkling jewels, Caitlin donned a striking navy three piece, a modern interpretation of a military general’s uniform.

The outfit hugged her figure in all the right ways, showing off her athletic frame without trying too hard. A few medals hung on her pocket, not just for show but as proof of the missions she handled perfectly.

Despite the fact that her style didn’t exactly match the women around her, or maybe because of it, Caitlyn turned heads. Her dark blue hair flowed down her back like a river. Her sharp features, inherited from her mother, gave her a look that was almost too perfect. Caitlyn’s appearance was like something out of a painting.

Caitlyn was the embodiment of blue, from her physical attributes to her uniform to the blood that ran through her veins. But as she stared down at the crowd, her mind wasn’t on the guests or their conversations.

Tonight, Caitlyn was obligated to host yet another social event for Piltover’s elites. War generals, investors, and influential figures of every kind gathered under the Kiramman roof, celebrating their own statuses. These gatherings had become a routine, not because Caitlyn particularly enjoyed them, but as a calculated move. She knew these events would boost morale and strengthen alliances. She needed to keep a firm grip on the city she controlled.

Ever since Ambessa vouched for her rise to power as Piltover’s leader, everything became an opportunity for strategy. Piltover was in disarray, each day worse than the last. The city’s streets had lost their spark.

Zaunite rebels grew bolder with every passing moment. Flooding public spaces with protests and disrupting property. Caitlyn had no choice but to invoke martial law. It was a necessary evil, she told herself, a show of strength to remind Piltover who held the reins.

Along with Ambessa came access to her Noxian soldiers, an army of brutal men that now patrolled the streets alongside Caitlyn’s enforcers. Although, they did not seem to fully answer to Caitlyn alone.

But Caitlyn didn’t care about the public's perception of her. Her focus was straightforward: finding Jinx.

That name had become an obsession. Caitlyn was willing to do whatever it took, use up all the resources, and cross every moral line to locate her. She told herself it was about justice, about ending the chaos Jinx had unleashed on Piltover. But deep down, Caitlyn knew it wasn’t just about the city.

It was personal. It had always been personal.

A hand crept onto her shoulder. Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her thoughts scattering as she realized she let her guard down. Instinct took over. She reached to her side, fingers wrapping around the grips of her revolver. The gun slid from the holster hidden beneath her cloak. The Kiramman crest was carved into the handgrip, this revolver belonged to nobody else but Caitlyn. She spun around and raised her barrel at the attacker.

"Woah!"

A voice exclaimed, thick with a foreign accent as Caitlyn's finger hovered over the trigger. Her eyes softened slightly as they fell upon the figure before her.

"Really?" The familiar face stared back at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "I thought I told you to put that thing away tonight."

Maddie.

Caitlyn let out a sigh, lowering the revolver and sliding it back into its original place. "You shouldn’t sneak up on people," she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

Maddie’s expression flipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "And you shouldn’t be so quick to shoot your girlfriend," she teased.

"I did put it away," Caitlyn responded stoically. She turned around, drifting her attention back to the crowd below.

Maddie arched her eyebrow. "I meant all of your weapons."

Maddie Nolen. Introduced by Ambessa herself, the woman standing beside her was the daughter of a wealthy family from Noxus. Unlike the Kirammans, the Nolen name carried little weight in Piltover. What the Nolens lacked in status, they made up for in resources. Maddie's family was one of Caitlyn’s top campaign sponsors, their wealth funding many of the missions needed to locate Jinx.

At first, Caitlyn was skeptical of meeting Maddie. She didn’t trust easily, especially not strangers. But Maddie had proven herself more than just a political pawn; she was sharp, witty, and—though Caitlyn hated to admit it—comforting in ways Caitlyn hadn’t expected. Maddie became an unmovable presence in her life, one Caitlyn tolerated, and at times even welcomed.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. A kind, sensible, well off family—that’s what she would have wanted for Caitlyn. Maddie was all of those things, a picture perfect fit to the legacy her late mother envisioned. Yet Caitlyn couldn’t ignore the ache when she thought about Maddie.

Maddie moved closer until she stood beside Caitlyn at the railing. She turned her hand to smooth the edges of Caitlyn’s high collar, fingers brushing over the fabric in a way that forced Caitlyn’s attention.

Caitlyn shifted her eyes away from the crowd and onto the woman in front of her. She was much shorter than Caitlyn, a heart fluttering distance. As she looked down at her, their eyes met. Maddie didn't let this pass go unnoticed.

A sly smile tugged at Maddie’s lips as she wrapped her arms around Caitlyn’s neck, jumping on her tippy toes. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Caitlyn’s in a tender kiss. Sensing a rare moment of relaxation, Maddie took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her palm drifted to the base of Caitlyn’s neck, fingers gently gripping her nape.

A sudden, intruding smell of sulfur invaded Caitlyn’s nostrils, cutting through the flowery perfume Maddie wore. Caitlyn shivered, feeling a gust of wind that came from a rusty vent above. The sound of droplets splashing on metal steps echoed in her ears.

Her eyelids fluttered open slightly in the midst of the kiss. What she saw wasn’t Maddie’s soft orange golden locks, but a burst of bright red hair. The soft fingertips against her nape became calloused, the touch rough and familiar. Cool steel brushed against her nose, a piercing that belonged to someone she knew all too well.

Caitlyn broke the kiss, stumbling back as if escaping from chains rather than Maddie’s arms. Her eyes darted around uncomfortably as the room came back into focus. Maddie stood there, stunned, her lips parted in confusion, but Caitlyn didn't even bother to notice.

She blinked again, but the red was gone. Only the faint smell of Zaun lingered.

Caitlyn’s flustered demeanor was a sight Maddie wasn’t familiar with. Vulnerability wasn’t something she saw often, if ever. The closest she had come was during their intimate moments in bed, but even then, Caitlyn’s walls never fully came down. There was always a part of her guarded, untouchable.

Caitlyn regained her composure, her hand running through her dark blue hair.

"Sorry," Caitlyn said dismissively. "I got carried away." Her words were obviously a lie, not even attemptting to cover up her strange actions. "Didn’t want so many people to see us."

It was a terrible excuse, and Maddie knew it. Their relationship wasn’t hidden from the public, nor was it scandalous. The people in Piltover knew all about their affairs, even those in Noxus did. For months now, they had been seen together at public events. Rumors of their relationship spread across both nations, mostly met with approval. An alliance between the Kiramman household and a wealthy Noxian family was seen as beneficial to both sides.

Maddie didn’t press Caitlyn further. Instead, she grabbed Caitlyn’s hand, squeezing it softly. She searched Caitlyn’s face with a gentle concern, though Caitlyn stubbornly avoided her gaze.

Maddie was indeed striking tonight, her elegant dark red dress standing out along Caitlyn's attire. It was medieval in inspiration, deeply integrated with Noxian culture, but tidy enough to fit in with Piltover's dress code.

Her orange hair, now grown to just above her waist, framed her porcelain like features effortlessly. Months ago, Maddie overheard Caitlyn say offhandedly that she preferred long hair. So, Maddie let it grow.

The change had been subtle at first, but now it made her face look better in ways Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice. Maddie was not a diamond, but a ruby in the rough.

Caitlyn had loitered on the balcony for too long, she knew she had a role to play tonight. People were likely beginning to search for her.

Everyone was a chess piece on Caitlyn’s board, and she knew it. More importantly, they knew it too. Every smile hidden beneath ambition, every handshake carried an agenda. The feeling was mutual—Caitlyn herself was no stranger to playing the game.

"Let’s go down," she said finally, her tone more of a command than a suggestion.

Maddie nodded without question, slipping her arm around Caitlyn’s as if she were just a pretty accessory. Caitlyn didn’t drink tonight, but she felt a strange sense of intoxication.

With a quiet sigh, Caitlyn moved to untangle the holster at her waist. Her fingers worked quickly, undoing the clasps and placing the weapon inside a nearby cabinet. She caught a glimpse of Maddie’s expression out the corner of her eye, happiness radiating from her as if she had won over Caitlyn.

Standing at the top of the staircase, the air in the Kiramman household shifted as they stepped into public view. She could feel the eyes of the room locking onto her, their gazes drawn not by Maddie but by Caitlyn’s presence.

She was her mother’s daughter, after all. The commander. The beauty of Piltover.

The stares didn’t bother her; whether they admired or hated her didn’t matter. Maddie’s grip on her bicep tightened slightly, nudging her to move forward. Caitlyn obliged, taking the first step down the staircase. Murmurs of the crowd stopped, replaced by the sound of clinking glasses raised in her honor. She saw smiles across the room, some genuine, most rehearsed.

Her free hand instinctively rose, brushing the back of her neck—a gesture she didn't mean to do but couldn’t stop. As if her body remembered something her mind refused to acknowledge. The warmth of Maddie's touch lingered, yet the ghost of another memory seemed to press harder.

Chapter Text

The room plunged into total near darkness. Caitlyn stood inside the void, equipped in black tactical gear that blended in with its background. Her signature rifle rested steady in her hands.

A rustling noise broke through to her right. Caitlyn’s body snapped toward the sound, boots clanking on the floor as she raised her weapon.

Before she knew it, a life-sized holographic figure lasered to life in front of her. It began rushing forward, wielding a massive spiked pole.

Bang. Bullseye.

The shot landed right between its eyes. The hologram shattered into fragments, like a stack of jenga pieces, before dissolving into thin air. Caitlyn braced for the next wave of targets. Instead, she was met with an eerie silence.

Too much silence.

A faint sound was heard in the distance—female laughter. It was light, almost playful, familiar.

Caitlyn spun around, her finger hovering on the trigger. It was nearly impossible to see anything without night-vision goggles, but in her peripheral vision, she swore she caught movement—a strand of colored braids.

She fired before her thoughts could catch up. The shot rang out, echoing into the abyss. Caitlyn’s pulse began to speed up for the first time, searching for confirmation of a hit.

But all she found was silence.

And then, a cold blade pressed against her throat.

All of the lights turned on abruptly, revealing the transparent box Caitlyn had been inside. The budget that went into military spending was not only towards weapons and armour, but also state of the art training facilities.

A loud buzzing sound was heard, followed by a monotone robotic voice. "Caitlyn Kiramman… eliminated."

Caitlyn’s gaze dropped down to the hands of the person still pressed against her.

"Your back is wide open, child," said a low, commanding voice that needed no introduction.

Ambessa.

The woman withdrew her blade, stepping back, allowing Caitlyn to regain her composure. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her tactical glove.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, face etched with confusion. "It was locked."

Ambessa’s smirk was faint. "To win, you must play dirty by all means necessary," her tone sharp like the knife held in her hand.

Caitlyn’s face remained unreadable, though her mind was racing. Was it irritation she felt? Or the bitterness of defeat? She wasn’t sure herself.

"What did you shoot at?"

Caitlyn hesitated to respond, gripping her rifle a little tighter. "I … thought I saw something," she admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Though Caitlyn was the leader in name, moments like these made her feel as if Ambessa was in control. The Noxian woman placed a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder, eyes bearing into her soul, as if attempting to search for something.

For months, Ambessa had been pushing Caitlyn to her limits training her in hand-to-hand combat. Caitlyn would never admit it out loud, but it was draining her. Before her coronation, she had only been taught the basics of self-defense during her brief time in enforcer training. Even that was cut short after her mother intervened. Her overprotectiveness caused a conversation with the head enforcers to make sure Caitlyn was safe.

She was constantly ridiculed by her peers because of her mother’s influence. Very few people took her seriously. To them, she stood out: a noble among commoners, bearing the enforcer badge but sharing none of their struggles. It wasn’t every day someone of Caitlyn’s status worked equally with ordinary people, and that dynamic seemed to fuel her colleagues into a terrible power trip.

Marcus and the others were no better. They took every opportunity to humiliate her. Her higher-ups piled paperwork, reports, and other useless things on her desk. She remembered when she took it upon herself to investigate Silco and the Undercity. Even to this day, Caitlyn found herself haunted by the choices she made. Was it the right call? Did she regret it? These questions kept her up at night.

"We must all sacrifice things to win wars," Ambessa said, breaking her train of thought. "Caitlyn, are you prepared to lose the things closest to you?"

Ambessa always said deep, philosophical things like this. Caitlyn understood the weight of her words, but she was in no mood to entertain it. She had grown familiar with sacrifice, along with regret.

Losing her mother was a wound that never really healed. Caitlyn had replayed it in her mind countless times, staring into her father’s eyes, into the council’s, saying the same thing over and over: I had the shot.

And she did.

Her failure cost her more than her mother’s life. It had stolen something from her—a spark that wanted to understand things about the world. She stopped blaming all of Zaun for the actions of a few, but she couldn’t shake off how a couple of bad choices could cause such a domino effect.

Caitlyn understood now why so many people in Piltover despised Zaun—it was so easy to. Every attempt at peace felt wrong.

The world around her had lost color. Everything in her life was devoid of vibrance, so she opted to stay inside the grey.

When they ask her again—Why didn’t you take the shot? What happened?—every fiber in her just suffocates. She knows the answer, but refuses to admit it out loud.

Yet, every time the housekeeper brought a fresh bouquet to replace the old ones, Caitlyn's eyes were drawn only to the violets. When she went into the woods with her rifle, it wasn’t deer or squirrels that caught her attention—it was always the flash of a cardinal’s crimson feathers.

This color haunted her. Ambessa’s soldiers' uniforms as they marched in lines. The freshly painted walls of the war room, supposedly a symbol of power. And Maddie, constantly dressed in shades of ruby.

It was the color of her hair, the color of her clothes. Caitlyn didn’t take the shot because Jinx was her sister.

Is blood really thicker than water? Could it have severed that red string of fate between them?

A dash of disappointment glazed over Ambessa over Caitlyn’s lack of response. She let go of the grip on her shoulder and turned away.

Clearing her throat, Ambessa moved on quickly. "The rebel attacks must be contained."

Caitlyn blinked, folding her rifle into the strap slung across her back. She straightened her posture, lifting her chin like the noble she was. Ambessa might have her lessons and philosophies, but Caitlyn wouldn’t be so easily controlled.

"If it weren’t for your soldiers, they wouldn’t have attacked in the first place.” Her words were concise, devoid of bitterness or accusation. It wasn’t shade—it was the truth.

They didn’t see eye-to-eye most of the time, although this was a dynamic only the two of them knew of. Ambessa appreciated Caitlyn’s influence, determination, and willingness to cross the lines to get things done. In Ambessa’s eyes, she was the perfect candidate to mold into a powerful war weapon.

Caitlyn wasn’t foolish, she knew she possessed traits that Ambessa favored. And though she was often swayed by Ambessa’s words, there was a fight within Caitlyn that never allowed her to submit fully to anyone else. Ironically, Ambessa admired this defiance. Her willingness to speak back and stand up only made her a stronger protégé.

Ambessa ignored Caitlyn’s remark, her voice calm as she shifted the conversation again. "You haven’t been sleeping well, Caitlyn?"

The unexpected question caught Caitlyn by surprise. There was a softness in Ambessa’s tone of genuine concern. Caitlyn glanced at her, but Ambessa’s back remained turned.

"You seem distracted," she added.

Caitlyn rubbed her temples attempting to brush away both her exhaustion and the strange intimacy of the moment. Ambessa was right, she was blurring the lines between real and fake.

Without responding, Caitlyn moved towards the exit. She pushed open the door and stepped out, letting it close behind her with a thud, leaving Ambessa alone in the glass square.

Standing in front of a sketchy, run-down factory, Vi peeked down at the crumpled note in her hand. The address scrawled by Loris was nearly illegible, resembling a child’s handwriting. She squinted, rotating the paper as if that would somehow make it clearer.

This building was rumored to be a local kingpin's headquarters. Half a shimmer facility, half a boxing gym. The druglord was said to have a passion for fighting, investing money into boxing for both business and as a personal hobby.

According to word on the street, Gunner had trained here before he suddenly disappeared.

Vi tucked the note into her back pocket, muttering some random nonsense to herself. She wasn’t sure what she’d find inside, but she was destined to come out with answers—no matter what it took.

The building didn’t have a proper door, just a garage-style looking mechanic. She cracked her knuckles before grabbing the edge of the shutter. With a grunt, she yanked it upward, just enough to slip inside without fully opening it.

Purple particles of shimmer floated in the air. It was on everything—the walls, the floor, all of the equipment inside. Vi covered her nose with her hand, not wanting to breathe in the fumes.

There were punching bags, practice dummies, and a large boxing ring in the center of the room. This was definitely a gym. However, the space felt way too empty and there were no signs of life anywhere. It didn’t seem like a place where a big, scary kingpin would spend his days.

The garage door slammed behind her causing echoes throughout the quiet room. The sound of footsteps grew closer, someone was here. Vi planted her feet on the mat below her, clenching her fists.

When the figure finally entered her line of sight, Vi’s molars grinded together so hard it felt like it might crack. It wasn’t just anyone, it was someone she recognized. Someone she didn’t want to see. The person’s expression showed a mix of shock and confusion at finding her there.

"You’ve got some nerve showing up here," she spat venomously. "After all these months, you’ve still got the audacity to follow me?"

Vi’s expression was dark with disgust. The person stood motionless, not uttering a word. Her patience—or what little she had left—snapped. "Say something!" Vi demanded. She was so tired of people withholding answers from her … tired of constantly being kept in the dark. This time, she wasn’t going to let it slide.

"Speak up, Sevika!"

Sevika stood there with one arm dangling at her side. "What are you doing here?" she finally asked, seeming genuinely curious. Vi took the response as a taunt—another game being played at her expense.

She lunged at Sevika, aiming for her face. Sevika barely dodged, stumbling back as she attempted to regain her balance.

But Vi wasn’t done.

Her knuckles flew through the air as she swung again. This time, Sevika was ready. She stepped aside, avoiding the punch. But she didn’t fight back—didn’t even lift her arm to defend herself.

"C’mon, you filthy traitor," Vi growled. "Fight back!"

Sevika continued to bob around, avoiding Vi’s attacks while muttering the same word over and over. "Wait," her voice huffing and puffing, trying to reason with her.

Vi wasn’t interested in waiting. She had no time to wait.

Despite trying her best to avoid a full-scale fight, Sevika’s movements were slowing. Her missing arm—torn off from their last encounter—left her vulnerable. But Sevika wasn’t finished yet. She ducked Vi’s next punch, managing to somehow slip behind her. Before Vi could react, Sevika gripped the back of her head and slammed her forehead down to her knee. Vi was yanked into a headlock in a daze.

"I see patience is still not your strong suit, Vi."

Vi huffed in irritation—like a puppy—as she dug her elbow hard into Sevika’s abdomen. She let out a guttural groan clutching her stomach in pain, allowing Vi to stumble free from her grasp.

Sevika fell backwards, holding her ribs. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth.

Then she laughed.

“Damn, you still hit like you got something to prove,” she snickered, swiping a hand across her bleeding lip. “Too bad it don’t mean shit when you’re already losing.”

Vi’s fists tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sevika shook her head at Vi's cluelessness. “Same old Vi, thinking fists solve everything. You haven’t changed at all. Guess it’s true what they say about you.”

She leaned against a nearby pillar for support, still holding onto the lower part of her stomach. “Everyone disappears when they come around you. What’s the count now? Two? Three? Five? Your sister … Vander … Cait—”

Vi stopped her before she could finish her sentence. “Watch your damn mouth.”

“Or what?” Sevika straightened her back, starting to recover from Vi’s earlier blow. “You gonna make me disappear too? Funny thing is, I warned my men not to fight you, but they didn’t listen. Guess what? They’re gone now.”

Gears began to turn inside Vi’s head. Her eyes darted around the room, catching a glimpse of the familiar faces she’d seen around the pits.

“You’re…”

Sevika smirked. “Took you long enough to figure it out, champ. You’re standing in my gym.”

Vi forced herself to relax her tense shoulders. Of course, out of all the people in the world, it had to be Sevika—another ghost from her past.

Sevika shakily reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick cigar, placing it between her lips.

"You mind?" Sevika asked, holding up a lighter in her remaining hand, her tone teasing.

Vi rolled her eyes as she slugged toward Sevika. She snatched the lighter from her hand and flicked, igniting the tip. The end of the cigar glowed as Sevika drew in a long breath. She then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke directly into Vi’s face.

Vi recoiled with a cough, swatting the smoke and shoving Sevika back. "Seriously?"

While Sevika indulged in her cigar, Vi turned her attention again to the wall plastered with posters and photos. She scanned the faces—a mix of boxers, criminals, and what she assumed to be gang members. Most of them she didn’t know, but then her eyes stopped.

Her brows pinched together, head tilting slightly as she examined one particular portrait. Something about it seemed familiar, doesn’t she know this guy?

Sevika noticed Vi’s stare. "Oh, yeah. Gunner?" she said casually. "Real name’s Graham Whitlock. Kid’s a ‘Piltie."

Vi scrunched her ragged features in disbelief. "A ‘Piltie?" she repeated. The guy she fought with yesterday? What would one of those types be doing down here?

"Yeah," Sevika continued. "Crazy he disappeared. One of those rich kids who thought running away to the Undercity would be fun. Came to me looking for fights, not shimmer."

Vi crossed her arms, registering this newly gained information. A Piltie playing rebel in Zaun was strange, but not entirely out of the question. He had been training here in this very gym under Sevika's watch. And now he was missing after their match.

According to Sevika, the enforcers were sniffing around the pits, asking questions about the fighters, about the gym … about her. They weren't the usual peanut patrollers either, but the real deal. New faces, fancy uniforms, high-tech gear. This didn’t phase Sevika much, as it wasn't her concern to become a detective, nor did she care to dig around the enforcers' intentions.

"What would Piltover care about some boxers from the Undercity?"

Sevika didn't work for Vi, and she certainly wouldn't take orders from her. Sevika wasn't the enemy—at least not today. But she wasn't an ally either.

Sevika’s gaze locked with Vi’s. "You know whose name they were dropping?" she continued. "Kiramman’s."

"Caitlyn?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika nodded, flicking ash from her cigar. "Her team. At least, that’s what they claimed. Whether it’s true or just some Piltover bullshit, I couldn’t tell you. But they were operating under orders from her, that much is clear."

From a distance, Piltover seemed united, flowing with order and prosperity. But the cracks in its picture-perfect system ran deep. Families like Gunner's, with their wealth and influence, represented everything there was to hate about Piltover. These were families that didn't just exist within the ecosystem—they owned the entire damn thing. Their connections to each other went very, very far beyond dinner parties and charity events. For them, rules and regulations meant nothing—just a tool to bend their interests. They were the ones who whispered in the ears of the council members, stuffing their pockets with dirty coins, making sure enforcers played the instructed parts of their plays.

It came to Vi’s attention that some of their connections to the government were not as solid as it seemed. Enforcers who marched the streets did not just serve the elites, but Caitlyn herself. When families like Gunner's weren't happy, things turned to shit—fast. Nobody cared who was in power; they just wanted to go back to the way things were before.

So, whispers coursed throughout the city. Perhaps not everyone put as much trust in Caitlyn Kiramman as she might think. To them, she was too idealistic, too focused on justice at the expense of the unwritten rules of Piltover. The elite preferred their leaders to be ones that knew the game, who knew how to maintain the status quo and not draw too much attention to corruption.

"What are you saying?"

"I’m saying," Sevika continued, "that Gunner’s family has pull in Piltover. The kind of shit that opens doors for people like you. You want answers? Start there."

The Whitlocks were as usual, a family that reveled in panic when things didn't go their way. They had been reaching out to anyone who might offer them answers: lawyers, doctors, even petty thieves.

With Gunner’s disappearance, tensions between Piltover and Zaun were at an all-time high. For the Whitlocks, the situation was more than personal—it was political. The thought of their son, a wealthy aristocrat, becoming close with delinquents was a huge scandal. Piltover prided itself on its squeaky-clean image. If word got out that the heir of an elite house had been playing around in the Undercity, it would cause complete mayhem.

Yet, despite their disdain for Zaun, the Whitlocks were desperate. Their son was missing, and they were willing to do anything to find him. But who could they turn to for help? Caitlyn’s enforcers were an option, but it came with risks. Involving the authorities might lead to social death, or worse, accusations of treason for their son’s activities in Zaun. On the other hand, seeking help from the Undercity was an equally unappealing choice.

“Those clowns came to me, believe it or not. Sent some fancy-pants middleman with a fat stack of ‘Piltie money, asking if I’d seen him. Thought maybe he got himself balls deep in, I dunno, drugs or something.” Her face cracked in amusement.

“So what’d you tell them?”

Sevika gave a nonchalant shrug. “Exactly what they needed to hear. Didn’t know him, hadn’t seen him, and that they should probably try looking in Piltover’s nice little gardens instead of down here in the gutter. Far as they know, their precious baby boy's still sipping wine in his penthouse.”

“Meanwhile, he was boxing for you,” Vi said flatly.

Sevika didn’t deny it. “Prettyboy came to me ‘cuz he was running from something up there. Don’t ask me what … I didn’t care. Long as he could swing and keep the crowd entertained. But now that he’s gone?” She tilted her head, her expression hardening. “Shit’s bad for business, Vi. Real bad. People start thinking fighters disappear when they work for me, and suddenly I don’t have business anymore.”

“And you think I care about your business?” Vi shot back.

“No,” Sevika deadpanned. “But you’re here for a reason, kid.” She flicked the cigar butt to the floor. “I’ll admit … thought maybe you were sniffing around ‘cuz you wanted to pick a fight with me. Now I’m starting to think we might have the same problem.”

She pushed off the pillar, the heel of her boot crushing the cigar as she closed the distance between them. "Someone’s picking off my men, Vi. Guys like Gunner—just without the fancy mansions. Maybe your ex-girlfriend's enforcers are involved, maybe not. Either way, I want answers just as much as you do." She jerked a thumb toward Vi. "And that's where you come in."

The word "ex-girlfriend" hit a bit too close to home. Vi felt nauseous at the thought of being associated with Caitlyn.

"I don't work for you," she snapped, voice oozing with more emotion than she wanted to let off.

"You wanna find out too, right? I’ve got someone who can make that happen. For the right price, of course."

Vi’s brow lifted in skepticism, a big question hanging in the air: why would the Whitlocks believe her? The answer was simple—Vi would be working with them … again. A private investigator with supposed links to the pits, someone who knew the underground like the back of their hand, willing to do dirty work in secrecy. The Whitlocks were unaware their son had been hanging around with trouble, making them eager to welcome someone with the "experience" they desperately needed. It also helped that she was semi-known in Piltover, as someone with previous connections to enforcer work.

Vi exhaled out of her nostrils in defeat. "And this guy of yours? Let me guess, they don’t work out of the kindness of their heart."

“I’ll give you one last favor for old times’ sake, but kindness don’t pay the bills ‘round here," Sevika retorted. "They’ll ask for something—money, a favor. That’s your problem. All I’m saying is, they can give you what you need. Those rich folks won’t care who you are as long as you sell them a story and promise to dig up their precious boy."

Vi didn’t want to admit it, but this plan was solid. She needed an excuse to head into Piltover, and what's better than hitting two birds with one stone? Vi didn’t need anyone to know her true intentions, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to Zaun’s impending countdown. Although her hard-headedness was getting in the way of letting Sevika win, her logic was sound. If she wanted to get into Piltover and gain access to Caitlyn, she needed a convincing cover.

"And where do I find this guy of yours?" Vi asked, her voice laced with reluctance.

Sevika brushed the invisible dust off her vest. "Up in Piltover at old Row district, by Times Square. Tell ‘em I sent you. They’ll take care of the rest—after you pay up, of course."

Vi felt an dull pain in her head starting to form. Another lousy person to meet. Another game she’d have to play. She sighed, bracing herself for the bullshit ahead. She hated this—getting help from someone like Sevika, owing favors to people she didn’t know—but what choice did she have? If this was what it took to get closer to finding her sister and saving Zaun, she’d get it done.

“This doesn’t make us even,” she’d told Sevika before leaving.

Sevika’s laugh was dry, like she was waiting for Vi to say something like that. “You’ve never let that sense of humor go either, kid. Now get the hell out my face before I change my mind.”

Vi knew that Piltover wasn't like the pits, where she could punch her way through a door and openly use violence to get what she wanted. They played dirty up there, at least Zaun didn't try to hide it.

Zaun was where the oppressed fought for survival underneath the stills of Piltover. Graham “Gunner” Whitlock was just a boy from a sheltered family who wanted a taste of danger and thrill. Now, his disappearance had become a symbol of Piltover's hypocrisy.

Vi stood at the edge of the platform, taking in the landscape before her eyes. Neon lights flickered from far away, and the sounds of clattering metal felt like music to her ears. She dunked her hands inside her pockets, with nothing other than the bag slung over her shoulder.

She promised herself she'd never leave Zaun, not again after everything that had happened. She convinced herself that she wasn’t abandoning home, but working with another Piltoven repulsed her, even if it was just pretend. Vi glanced over her shoulder one last time before swearing under her breath.

"Don't get too comfortable up there, Cupcake," she muttered, clenching her fist around the strap of her bag. "I'm coming back for ‘ya."

Chapter Text

The color spoke for itself. Inside the tent, memorabilia lined up along the walls and blades were laid on weapon racks. The domineering banner of Noxus stood in contrast to the elegance of the Kiramman flag. This was no ordinary tent, but a warrior’s hut.

Caitlyn pulled apart the tent flap, ducking her head as she stepped inside. She smelled blood which made her pause before searching for the source. Ambessa stood in the center of it all with her sleeves rolled up, skinning a deer. It wasn’t just any deer. Caitlyn recognized it as the one they caught together on their recent trip into the woods. Well, Ambessa caught it. Caitlyn had been venturing out there alone for weeks, but she returned back empty-handed everytime.

Ambessa insisted on accompanying her this time, much to Caitlyn’s protests. And then, just like that, it was like a deer walked right into her trap. The kill was clean and decisive, a testament to her character. “You have got to learn to recognize opportunity, Caitlyn,” Ambessa told her back in the forest.

Caitlyn made a noise with her boots to let Ambessa know she was there as she stepped further inside. The older woman wiped her brow with her arm, causing a streak of blood to stain her skin. Ambessa moved across the tent and grabbed a washcloth to clean up the mess she made, before stopping at another desk filled with maps and documents. Caitlyn glanced at the red strings connected to different locations, each line heading toward a single photo at the center.

Their progress was slow—way too slow for Ambessa’s liking. She cleared her throat harshly which caught Caitlyn’s attention. “Every second we waste, she gets further ahead. And every second she’s ahead, more blood spills.”

Caitlyn was about to respond, but Ambessa continued before she could get a word in. She waved toward the stuff on the desk. “All these scientists in Piltover and not one can crack hextech? Not one?”

Caitlyn didn’t need to look at Ambessa to feel her frustration. Ever since Jayce vanished without a trace, hextech was at a standstill. There were stories of gruesome explosions and accidents in the labs. The technology that held all possibilities was a mystery no one could solve. Several trials had been conducted, each one ending in failure.

No matter what they did, these orbs couldn’t be harnessed for magic or turned into weapons, much to Ambessa’s disappointment. However, she wasn’t the kind of woman who accepted “impossible” as an answer.

“The last group of scientists were all wiped out.”

Caitlyn nodded absently—hextech had always fascinated her. She grew up watching it come to life in Jayce’s hands. But right now, it wasn’t her priority. Hextech wasn’t what kept her awake at night.

Her fingers brushed against the Kiramman key around her neck. It was handed to Caitlyn by her father after her mother passed. It stored files that traced back to the very beginning of the Kiramman line, records of Piltover, and other valuable information. But more importantly, it held the original findings of the hextech orb.

Caitlyn let it slip that there were gas pipes in Zaun, a system her mother designed to provide fresh air to the Undercity. Grief had twisted Caitlyn’s mind. They took her away from me. So why should they have the right to breathe when she no longer can?

Ambessa didn’t need much more than that to seize the opportunity. Initially, Caitlyn agreed to the plan with reasoning. Gassing the lanes was, to her, a tactical move, a faster way to neutralize agents still loyal to Silco and flush out gangs that might have information about Jinx.

Her mother’s death had become the perfect excuse for her darker thoughts to take over. This wasn’t just about Zaun’s criminals or restoring peace. What would she do if she actually found Jinx? Kill her? Lock her away? Exile her out of Piltover?

Caitlyn didn’t know if she wanted closure, justice, or something else entirely. All she knew was that the hunt consumed her. It was an obsession that cost her more than she cared to admit.

Caitlyn lingered on the photo of Graham Whitlock on the opposite side of the table. His disappearance had been a concern for some time now. The Whitlocks were an influential family, and rumors of Graham’s connections to the Undercity caused problems.

Ambessa noticed Caitlyn looking at the photo. “We must get involved with the Whitlocks,” she said. “Now before you—”

Caitlyn cut her off. “We shouldn’t have sent the guards down there,” she snapped, shoving her hands off the table. “I knew it. I knew this was a mistake.” Her pace quickened as she squabbled around the tent with her hands on her hips.

Ambessa showed no hint of disapproval or irritation at Caitlyn’s outburst. “For the sake of Piltover’s reputation, Caitlyn. Our involvement … was never meant to go this far.”

Before his death, Silco had conducted experiments on people using Shimmer. And when he died, those murderous creatures had to go somewhere to unleash their anger. That somewhere was the infamous fighting pits.

Ambessa’s plan worked in theory. If Piltover’s scientists couldn’t do it, perhaps a crazed mind in Zaun would. There was one person in particular that caught Ambessa’s attention, he was a former worker of Silco’s. If her suspicions were correct, this man was testing on fighters. Ambessa was dead set on finding him, convinced he could be the one to make hextech work. However, the thought of allowing a deranged criminal to experiment with hextech made Caitlyn feel uneasy.

Without Caitlyn’s approval, Ambessa couldn’t move forward with their plan, and yet it was Caitlyn who suffered the backlash when things went out of control. The questions were endless. What the son of an elite Piltover house was doing in the Undercity to begin with, Caitlyn didn’t have an answer.

Rumors spread that people in the Undercity were beginning their own investigations. The reveal that “Gunner” was actually Piltover royalty caused a shitload of controversy. Caitlyn’s lack of involvement meant risking her trust with the people of Piltover. On the other hand, working together with Zaun was taking a gamble they couldn’t afford to lose.

Caitlyn knew personally what the people of Zaun were like. They never stopped until they got what they wanted. These memories were fresh in her head, especially after what happened the day of the memorial, not even allowing her a second to grieve her mother in peace.

Ambessa suggested dealing with the situation under the table, but Caitlyn refused. She had to take responsibility. These weren’t just Ambessa’s plans, they were hers too. And this was a chance to use Zaun to complete her mission.

The last time Vi was in Time Square, everything had been a blur. She was too drunk to take anything in, all she remembered was passing out next to a water fountain until the guards woke her up. Now that she was sober, she realized the air was certainly fresher than Zaun’s. The buildings around her were tall and the ground beneath her polished.

Vi counted down the house numbers until she hit the jackpot. She stopped in front of a building, it didn’t scream “we do illegal activities here,” but looks could be deceiving. Stepping inside, Vi tapped the bell on the front counter only to be met with silence. She waited a second, then pressed it again.

Still nothing.

Vi let out an annoyed sigh. She rang the bell a third time with a much harder force. A moment later, a small man stumbled out with a cup of coffee balancing on his hands.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he yelped, the drink spilling over the edge of the cup. “Didn’t hear the first two uh, three rings!”

She didn’t know what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. He looked more like a librarian than someone Sevika would trust.

The man still hadn’t looked at Vi properly. When he finally flicked his head up to make eye contact, he looked away quickly afterwards. Then he did a double take. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked.

Vi smirked, tilting her head as she gestured down at herself with her hands. “Why? Do I not look the part?”

She wasn’t exactly Piltover material. Her hair, dyed black months ago, had faded into a mixed red. It grew into an uneven mullet, partially because she was too lazy to take care of it. Her build was leaner now and her cheekbones sharper, despite the constant fighting.

“I don’t see a lot of our true people nowadays.” He chuckled, putting his drink down on the counter.

Ever since martial law was enforced, crossing the border had become a nightmare. For Zaunites, it was nearly impossible. Whether they came for business, personal matters, or simply survival, the enforcers made it clear they weren’t welcome here.

Vi saw it for herself when she was standing in line waiting to get into Piltover. One after another, Zaunties were denied entry. Some were beaten for arguing, others for no reason at all. She held her documents in her hands, attempting to cool herself down before she made an impulsive mistake. As the checkpoint officer searched through her bag, she saw an elderly man being shoved to his knees with a baton. The officers laughed, watching him struggle to stand back up. Vi’s teeth clenched together, and she was ready to make a scene regardless of the consequences. But before she could take a step, the guard inspecting her baggage stopped her.

“You’re clear,” he said, handing her papers back without a second glance.

Vi was surprised by the sudden approval. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay quiet and swore silently as she stepped into Piltover that she’d carry out her mission for her people.

“Sevika said you could hook me up with documents,” Vi went straight to the point. “I need to fake investigation papers. Private investigator certification or whatever.”

The man raised an eyebrow, grabbing his cup back off the counter. “Private investigator?” he repeated. “What are you investigating?”

“None of your business.”

The man studied her for a moment before he began heading toward the back room.

Vi’s eyes widened as he turned to leave. She didn’t expect him to walk away, so her facade cracked. “Okay, wait,” she blurted, lunging forward with her hand reaching out to stop him.

He paused but didn’t turn around, as if waiting for Vi to say something else. She sighed loudly, exhaling through her nose as her head tilted back. “The boxers,” she groaned. “I’m here to help the family. Happy now?”

The man twirled the spoon inside his cup, the clinking sound grating Vi’s ears. Without a word, he pushed the counter open, gesturing for her to follow. He reached for a switch on the wall and flicked it on, showing steps leading downstairs.

“After you,” he said, stepping aside.

Vi gave him a side glance before heading down. There was a massive planning board against a wall with maps and notes. A table sat in the middle of the room with enough chairs for at least a dozen people. There were government propaganda posters that had been vandalized with bright blue spray paint slashed across the commander’s eyes.

What the hell was this place?

This wasn’t just some random guy’s basement, it was something bigger. It was a hideout for Zaun radicalists, those who opposed Caitlyn’s position in power. Over the past months, her enforcer’s use of brutality pushed people to their limits. And it wasn’t just Zaunites anymore, even some Piltovans had joined the cause. Together, they formed a resistance group.

“We prefer to call ourselves peacemakers,” the man said suddenly, as though he’d been reading her mind.

She heard the news before about a secret party of Zaunites plotting against the government. However, these people were anything but peaceful.

“Working with the Whitlocks, huh?” the man asked. “I can do you one better. Papers that’ll get you in with the enforcers. They’d be forced to work with you.”

Vi stopped playing with the edge of the propaganda poster she’d picked up. Her fingers had been unconsciously scrunching its corners. It was the perfect plan, right? The Whitlocks would open doors, but enforcer clearance? That was next level access. If she could play it right, this would be her straight shot to Caitlyn without raising suspicion.

But she began to have cold feet. Instead of giving an answer, Vi started asking a bunch of random questions. “So … how long have you been doing this? And what’s the deal with all the blue paint anyway?” She waved her hands around toward the room.

He answered all of her nonsensical questions in order. “Me, the leader? Of course not,” he said. Finally, she huffed. “Alright nerd, what do you need from me?”

A satisfied grin creeped across his face. “Spoken like a true Zaunite,” he said with a low chuckle. “Your eyes, your ears… and mostly, a hextech orb.”

Vi internally rolled her eyes to the back of her head. Hextech. She was so sick of hearing about it. Those damned stupid blue beads had been haunting her for years, one disaster to another. She didn’t know how they worked, didn’t care to know, and yet they always managed to find their way into her life. Caitlyn had been obsessed with them too, venturing into Zaun just to locate the missing orb.

Vi ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t have much of a choice here, not really. Whatever. It shouldn’t be that hard to swipe a hextech orb from under Caitlyn’s nose. She was going to kill her anyway. That was the mission, wasn’t it?

“Fine,” Vi muttered. “But I don’t want to be involved in … whatever this is.” She gestured awkwardly around the room.

The man stepped closer, placing both hands on her shoulders like a proud father. “I’ll get it sorted out for you, then,” he said.

Vi didn’t reply, shrugging his hands off her as she turned back up toward the stairs. She stepped into the street, tugging at the bandages around her hands as she walked around. The faint scent of ale and cider wafted in the air, making her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself on a barstool with a glass in her hand. But it wasn’t Loris’ bar. The floorboards weren’t creaky, the ceilings weren’t leaking, and the air didn’t smell of sweat and tonic.

This wasn’t Zaun.

Vi stared into her drink before lifting the glass to her lips. It was smoother than she was used to, just like everything else in Piltover.

“And then the whole time, it was in her back pocket!” Maddie laughed, wiping the tears at the corner of her eyes. When her giggles got quieter, she turned toward Caitlyn with a playful tilt. “Are you listening, darling?”

Caitlyn had been staring off into space as usual. She turned to meet Maddie’s gaze with a practiced smile. “Yes, of course."

Maddie raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing grin. “Then what was I talking about?”

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately, her sly look betraying her. Maddie let out another laugh while leaning her body into her girlfriend like a kitten. “Just kidding,” she said softly. “I’m sure they’ll seat us soon.”

“I know,” she said. They both had a glass of champagne in hand, but Caitlyn’s was noticeably emptier than Maddie’s. “Sorry. It’s just … work stuff.”

They had been waiting for a few minutes now on stools at the bar near the precinct. Maddie had practically dragged Caitlyn away from her desk, insisting she needed a break before she worked herself to an early grave. It wasn’t really a request but more of a nagging demand.

Actually, they could have been seated already. The moment they stepped through the door, the staff recognized Caitlyn and offered them a booth in a hurry. But Caitlyn waved it off, putting her name onto the waitlist instead. She didn’t want special treatment tonight. It was just a short wait, and besides, it was nice to feel normal for once.

She took another sip of her champagne. Maddie was already halfway through another one of her hilariously boring stories, but Caitlyn didn’t mind. It wasn’t the story itself that amused her, but Maddie’s energy was infectious.

Then Caitlyn’s smile faltered.

A flash of red caught her eye from across the other side of the bar. Her eye twitched as she shifted her attention to behind Maddie. The face was too far away to make out clearly, but the color stood out. Red hair wasn’t common in Piltover, definitely not here.

Her grip tightened on the stem of her glass. No, it couldn’t be.

It’s just a coincidence, Caitlyn told herself. It wasn’t bright red like what she usually remembered. The shade was off—darker, muted. The length didn’t match either, and especially not the clothes. It wasn’t her. Caitlyn was just seeing things again, the stress letting her mind play tricks on her.

She pinched herself lightly on the arm under the counter, hoping the sting would bring her back to reality. Maddie took a long gulp of her drink, oblivious, before turning back to her rambling. Caitlyn barely caught any of what she was saying.

She squinted, her eyes moving past Maddie’s shoulders in an attempt to catch another glimpse of the figure. She tried to not make it look so ‘narc-like’, but she felt like her actions were comically obvious. Caitlyn shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, forcing the image away.

“Are you alright, love?” Maddie’s voice broke through her haze.

Snap out of it, she told herself. This isn’t happening. It isn’t real. She wasn't going to let another one of her delusions make a mess out of her.

In a desperate attempt to ignore her own thoughts, she leaned closer to Maddie, locking eyes with the smaller ginger girl. Caitlyn reached out, placing her hand on Maddie’s thigh with a faint smirk.

“You look good tonight,” she hummed, giving her a deadly look.

Maddie’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink, the compliment catching her off guard. She placed her hand over Caitlyn’s, her thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting motion. “You always know how to charm me,” Maddie murmured back.

Caitlyn tried to stay present and focused on the woman in front of her, but the urge to glance back was too strong. Just one more look, she told herself. Her blue eyes darted back again, scanning the spot where the person had just been.

Bingo.

They were gone. Caitlyn felt a huge wave of relaxation wash over her, donning a genuine smile for the first time tonight. She turned her full attention back to her girlfriend, who was still gazing at her with a loving expression.

A surge of confidence coursed through her body. Caitlyn leaned in closer, brushing her lips near Maddie’s ear as her voice dropped to a low growl. “Forget dinner. Let’s get out of here.”

Maddie’s blush deepened as she met Caitlyn’s teasing eyes. She let out a soft laugh, nodding as she whispered back, “I thought you'd never ask.”

Caitlyn led Maddie through the bar, passing through the frosted glass dividers near the entrance. They moved together on one side, figures illuminating with the bar’s dim lighting. While on the opposite side, another silhouette appeared.

For a split second, the colors blended together through the glass, a dark red and a deep blue that mixed into an intricate shade of lavender. It was barely visible, like a magic trick that disappeared within a blink.

Caitlyn didn’t notice.

As they reached the exit, a chilly wind blew through Caitlyn’s clothes, making her stop for just a moment. That was weird, the door outside hadn’t even opened yet.

“Something wrong?”

Caitlyn shook her head, forcing a faint smile as she brushed it off. “No, nothing,” she said, giving Maddie’s hand a quick tug as they stepped out into the night air.

Chapter Text

Maybe she should have worn something else. A slightly cropped leather jacket and tight black slacks didn’t exactly spell out: prestigious investigator, no matter what the forged documents said. The bandages on her arms and the scars on her face didn’t help either. Vi actually could’ve ditched the bandages, but they were second nature at this point, like armor she couldn't go anywhere without.

Vi caught her reflection in a nearby puddle of water and felt a little out of place. She stuck out like a sore thumb, and she knew it.

Whatever, Vi told herself. It was too late to change now. She would just have to make it work.

Vi was never good at playing someone she wasn’t. The last time she tried was when she pretended to be good cop bad cop with Caitlyn, and that certainly went well. The memories still made her cringe inside, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on past screwups.

Shuffling her feet outside the Whitlock mansion, Vi drifted her gaze upwards. The place was massive, with big windows and stone walls. And, of course, it was gated. A typical Piltie fortress.

Vi stepped toward the intercom near the iron fence. She pressed the button, and after a short pause, the device buzzed loudly.

“Whitlock estate. State your business.”

The voice came through the speaker with an overly posh accent, the kind that made Vi roll her eyes almost instantly. She mocked it in her head. Do all Pilties sound like they’ve got a stick shoved up their—

She cleared her throat, pushing the hilariously intrusive thought aside. “I’m the investigator from Zaun. Here to help you, um, investigate…”

The line stayed dead for a while before she heard the sound of papers being flipped in the background. The man scoffed with distain. “Yeah, right. Wrong place. Stillwater’s the other way.”

Vi felt a pang of irritation in her chest. Of course. This is why nobody ever wants to help you guys! Typical, she thought. Pilties were all the same—looking down at anyone from Zaun.

She dug her nails into her fist, holding back the urge to curse him out on the spot. Vi leaned closer to the intercom and gruffed, “I have valuable info on Gunner—or should I say Graham—that I’m sure your boss would be interested in hearing. Now open the door before I knock it down myself.”

The intercom beeped, and the gate swung open. Vi smiled at the camera on the intercom before sticking out her tongue and flipping her middle finger at it.

She followed the stone path that went through the Whitlocks’ front garden. The place was … something else. Greenery in every shade imaginable, a pond with various types of fish, and willow trees that decorated the yard.

Vi wasn’t really into fancy things, but she couldn’t help drop her jaws a little. It was like walking into another world. Must be nice, she thought.

As she approached the front doors, a butler stepped forward, bowing slightly before holding it open. Vi raised a brow, holding back a scoff. These people were so rich they couldn’t even be bothered to open their own doors?

The foyer was just as nice as the garden. Vi was met with three pairs of eyes that locked onto her as soon she stepped inside.

The Whitlocks stood in the center, dressed in their Sunday best as if they were posing for a painting. Mr. Whitlock had neatly combed gray hair, his suit perfectly tailored to his figure. Standing next to him, Mrs. Whitlock had a classic fringe bob with a shiny pearl necklace to top off her appearance.

Vi caught a slight dim in their expressions when they saw her, before whipping back into their precisioned selves.

A young woman, probably in her early twenties, stood slightly further apart from the other two Whitlocks. She had bleach blonde hair and high cheekbones, giving her an almost elvish look. Her scowl was evident though, eyeing Vi with indifference. Unlike her parents, she didn’t bother with hiding behind a polite mask.

So that’s the daughter.

“You must be coming straight from Zaun.” Mr. Whitlock hesitated for a moment before extending his arm.

Vi gripped his hand and gave it a solid shake. She felt him tense before letting go, rubbing it with a small wince.

Oops, too hard.

“Well,” he said, recovering with a forced smile, “I am Grant. My wife, Grace…”

Vi barely had time to register the names in her head. Graham, Grant, Grace. You’ve got to be kidding me. No, don't tell me—Gwendolyn?

“And of course,” Grant continued, gesturing toward the young woman with the resting bitch face, “my lovely daughter … Briar.”

Vi’s eyes flicked between the three of them with a deadpan expression. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud at how absurd this entire scenario was. Grant, Grace, Graham, and … Briar? This can’t be real, it felt like a prank. She fought the urge to turn around and walk right out the door.

She initiated a silent prayer before responding back. “Vi,” she said simply. “I’m sure you’ve seen me around.”

The father darted his eyes around the room before letting out a nervous laugh. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yes, indeed we have,” he said.

He gestured toward the living room in an awkward manner that seemed to indicate he wanted to move the conversation somewhere else. She couldn’t understand why he was acting like she was some alien species incapable of understanding basic human interaction, but she shrugged it off.

Briar let out a sound of irritation before storming ahead of them toward the couch. She threw herself onto it with a huff, crossing her legs and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

The other Whitlocks exchanged a glance before turning back to Vi with apologetic looks. The kind of expression that said: We’re sorry about her behavior, but we’re not actually going to do anything about it.

Vi resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the hundredth time and followed them into the living room. The family settled onto the seats opposite her. Another butler placed fine china on the table in front of them, pouring steaming tea into each cup.

Grace lifted her teacup, taking a sip before placing it back on its saucer in a manner that looked instilled in her muscle memory.

“You are quite … popular … in Piltover, Vi,” she began. “On the contrary, we shouldn’t even be seen with you.”

Her voice trailed off into quietness. It was clear there was more she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. “But,” she continued, “due to these circumstances, we are at odd's ends.”

Vi leaned back in her seat, a scoff slipping from her lips. The backhanded compliment wasn’t exactly subtle. “Yeah,” she said with a grin, “I’m sort of a hotshot everywhere, lady. Don’t worry. I’ll solve this shit—I mean, case—by the end of the week.”

Her words were dripping with sarcasm. She didn’t give a damn about the Whitlocks or their sob stories. This wasn’t about them. Vi was just sticking to the script Sevika had prepped her with earlier, feeding them whatever false narratives they needed to hear so she’d have an excuse to stay in Piltover.

Grace’s lips twitched slightly of irritation at Vi’s slip up. Across from them, Briar’s scowl deepened, she muttered something under her breath that Vi didn’t catch.

But she didn’t care.

Suddenly, Briar’s voice rang out of the blue. “You’re nothing but a criminal!”

The sound of her cup slamming onto the table echoed across the living room, making everyone flinch. Her cheeks were flushed with anger as she glared at Mrs. Whitlock. “Mother, you are not serious about working with a murderer.”

Vi’s gaze snapped to Briar. She tightened her grip on her knee making her knuckles flex through her bandages. A criminal? Sure. But a murderer? Definitely not.

This spoiled, privileged Piltover brat wasn’t going to ruin her plans—not now. “How about we leave this conversation to the capable adults?” Vi retorted back passive aggressively.

“You fought my brother, didn’t you?” she accused. “You probably killed him too!”

The room went silent. Vi’s jaw clenched, a snappy response already forming on her tongue. But before she could bite back, Grant’s voice cut through the air.

“Enough, young lady!” Grant exclaimed, his calm composure cracking. “Apologize to our guest this instant.”

For some unknown reason, Vi felt a sense of satisfaction seeing the Whitlocks side with her. A smirk formed at the corner of her lips as she raised an eyebrow, waiting for Briar to swallow her pride and apologize.

But really, she doubted the girl even knew how to say sorry.

Briar pushed herself up from the couch. “As if!” she spat, stomping out of the room dramatically.

Grant let out a heavy sigh. Vi caught the way he placed a hand over Grace’s for reassurance. She noticed the subtle tremor in Grace’s fingers, clearly rattled by Briar’s outburst. The giant elephant in the room went unaddressed—her missing son, potentially dead, murdered. For a split second, Vi felt a smudge of guilt seeing Grace like that. It wasn’t exactly pity, but something close to it.

But Vi broke out of her trance quickly. She wasn’t here for their family drama or to play the good guy. The reason she was in Piltover in the first place to complete her mission.

People disappeared in Zaun every single day—some without a trace, others in ways much worse. Piltover never batted an eye. It was hard to feel bad for anyone who had the privilege of a chandelier roof over their heads and exotic delicacies in their stomachs.

Grant cleared his throat, attempting to hide his exhaustion. “You may stay under our residence while conducting your investigations,” he said. “Of course, the payment will be discussed later on. Anything you need, just ask.”

Vi was caught off guard by the unexpected offer. She hadn’t even considered where she would stay during her time in Piltover, as it wasn’t exactly at the top of her list of concerns. Her expression must have given it away because Grace leaned forward, clasping their hands together. “Please,” she said softly, her voice heavy with desperation. “It is the least we can do. Nobody is willing to help us.”

“Alright,” Vi said with a sigh. She shrugged, hiding the sudden heaviness she felt inside. “If that’s what you want, whatever. I’ll try not to trash the place.”

After their talk, Vi wandered upstairs trying to piece together the directions Grant had given her. Left, down the hall, then another left. Or was it a right? She huffed, stopping at a hallway that looked identical to every other one she passed by.

As she kept walking, Vi saw a faint light coming from a room up ahead. The door was cracked open, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching before contemplating on snooping around. Why not? she thought. It wasn’t like she was getting anywhere with these directions.

Pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, Vi found herself in a place that felt entirely different from the rest of the mansion. The walls were made up of dark and rustic wooden beams. There was a large table in the middle of the room cluttered with brushes, jars of paint, and scattered papers. Piles of abstract, unfinished paintings seemed like they were tossed aside on the floors.

“You are such a creep.”

She turned just in time to see Briar step into the doorway, her expression showing pure annoyance.

“Get out of my room,” Briar snapped, moving past Vi. She gave her a deliberate shove to the shoulder before slamming the door behind her with a thud.

Eventually, Vi found the spare room. It was conveniently—or inconveniently, just down the hall from Briar’s. It was huge, easily twice the size of her entire place back when she was fighting in the pits. Vi flopped onto the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress. She laid on her back staring at the ceiling above her. Then, her mind started to drift, remembering the amount of things that happened during the day.

Hextech orbs. The Whitlocks. Caitlyn.

Then her thoughts turned darker.

She would have to kill Caitlyn. She knew that. She had known it from the moment she agreed to this mission. It wasn’t just a question of when—but how?

Vi ran a hand over her face, covering her eyes. She would have to get close to even have a chance of executing this. Close enough to earn Caitlyn’s trust, to lower her guard. But there was seriously no room for mistakes, no time for hesitation. The longer she lingered around Piltover, the more likely someone would start to question her certifications.

And the more likely she’d get attached.

She was supposed to be the one holding the knife, not the one hesitating. But in the empty room, the grandfather clock ticked noisily. Each tick felt louder than the last, like a countdown.

Time was slipping through her fingers.

Caitlyn stood in front of the bulletin board staring at the photographs of the aftermath of the Zaunite protestors’ latest stunt. Balloons filled with blue glitter were released over one of the busiest districts in Piltover. What the protestors likely thought was a “harmless show of activism” quickly spiraled into chaos.

Her eyes landed on a close up shot of glitter covering a man’s face. The caption beneath the photo noted that the sparkles had gotten into his eyes, blinding him temporarily as fell directly into a nearby construction site.

Another unnecessary casualty. Another preventable death.

The Kiramman library had become a sanctuary of sorts for Caitlyn. Bookshelves lined the walls, a small coffee table with two chairs, and a fireplace in the center of it all. Not only was it a place for her to drown in her thoughts, but it also served as a place for her to work alone. In the entirety of her huge mansion, the library was the only place that seemed like home to her.

The door rattled open, and Caitlyn’s head lifted up at the unwanted intrusion.

“Excuse me,” she said sharply. “You are not permitted to be here.”

An enforcer stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as if he ran up the stairs in a hurry. Caitlyn had just taken in his presence before she noticed Ambessa stepping into the room behind him. They both had exasperated looks on their faces.

“You’re going to want to hear this.” Ambessa said with irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

The guard cleared his throat, fumbling slightly as he raised a letter in his hand. The envelope was already torn open, crinkled in his palm.

“A self-proclaimed private investigator from the undercity has barged into the Noxus headquarters…”

Caitlyn’s brows quickly furrowed together.

“…and demands, by law, that they work together with the team leading the investigations on the missing boxers.”

The expression that crossed Caitlyn’s face was indescribable. Since when did the Undercity make demands, let alone demands upon her? And what kind of certifications could someone from Zaun possibly have to grant them access to her team?

The enforcer’s heart caught in his chest as he noticed her sudden mood change. He cleared his throat and continued in a quieter tone, hoping she wouldn’t blow a fuse right there and then. “And this … investigator … is causing quite a ruckus. They’ve already become physical with some members of the Noxus team.”

Ambessa sighed as she walked toward the fireplace. “As expected of their kind,” she scoffed, shaking her head.

Caitlyn pursed her lips, her mind racing as she weighed her options. “There is no way I am to work with a Zaunite on this investigation,” she said sharply. “Let me see that letter!”

The enforcer stuttered as he stepped forward, extending the letter toward her. Caitlyn snatched it from his hand instantly and unfolded the paper. Word by word, she scanned its contents. She took a long look at the stamp of approval at the bottom. Sure, it looked official—at least to the naked eye.

But before Caitlyn could examine the letter further, Ambessa interrupted. “You shouldn’t be the one handling this, Caitlyn,” she said. “Nor should you be wasting your time on this … so called investigator. But for the sake of Piltover, this case must be solved quickly.”

Caitlyn looked up only to find herself staring at Ambessa’s back. Caitlyn knew what had to be done, and what Ambessa was implying. Her gift, the ability to see things that ordinary people couldn’t, made her suited for these types of jobs. It wasn’t something Ambessa often acknowledged openly, but she made it clear she relied on Caitlyn’s sharp eyes and instincts.

“Lead me to the investigator this instant,” Caitlyn said firmly.

The guard nodded. He turned and stepped toward the door, holding it open for Caitlyn to leave. She didn’t spare Ambessa another glance, her mind already racing with thoughts of what—or who—she was about to face.

Vi was definitely sure she was in the right place. She had been here several times when she worked together with Caitlyn. Back then, it was crawling with enforcers in their infamous blue uniforms. Now? It was entirely different. Instead of blue, this place was full of guards in red.

Standing in the middle of the Piltoven Enforcer precinct—or that’s what she remembered this building was, Vi felt their eyes on her as the guards circled around her. She was being sized up like a wild animal in a cage.

Of course, it pissed her off.

Vi scoffed, a smirk spreading across her face as she looked around the room. “New enforcer uniforms?” she mocked. “All that funding, and they still can’t afford a stylist?”

A tall, muscular man stepped out from the circle of people to move closer to Vi. He had a nasty look on his face, Vi wasn't sure if it was because of her comment or if he naturally looked like that. “Five seconds,” he growled. “Get out. Now.”

Vi’s eyebrows knit together in amusement. She tilted her head slightly, talking to him as if he were a dog.

“Oh, come on, big guy,” she drawled, reaching into her bag. She pulled out the forged certifications and held them up. “I’m supposed to be here, actually. Bucko.”

The smirk widened into a toothy, shit-eating grin as she waved the papers at him mockingly. “We’ll be working together from now on. Isn’t that exciting?”

The man didn’t bother looking at the documents. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he huffed and started counting again.

“Four…”

This guy’s got a hell of a death glare, she thought. “You’re really bad at this whole teamwork thing, you know that?” Vi taunted.

The man suddenly lunged forward, his hand reaching out to snatch the papers from her hands. Vi pulled her arm back. Easy. Too easy. She caught his glare and made a funny face at his failed attempt. He was pissed off now, no doubt. And in front of his buddies? Even better. Without hesitation, he ran at her again.

Vi quickly moved away from him, sticking her ankle out, making him trip on her foot. He fell forward with a thud, landing face first on the floor.

“Too slow, you big oaf.”

The room ruptured into loud chatter and gossip as he pushed himself up. The viking man launched himself toward Vi, this time aiming to throw a punch at her. But before he could even swing, the door slammed against the wall with a loud bang.

And there she was. The commander queen herself, Caitlyn Kiramman, standing in all her blood and glory.

Vi wasn’t the only one who had changed. Her luscious blue locks had been cut slightly shorter, a single strand falling across her forehead. She wore a cape that draped around her shoulders with a dramatic, vampiric-like collar. Caitlyn had always been lean, but now she was much more athletic looking. Her features stayed beautiful, but it was clear that she was tired.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” she asked, her iconic British accent standing out in comparison with everyone else’s.

Caitlyn’s cold demeanor cracked the moment her eyes landed on Vi. Her pupils dilated in shock, not even bothering to hide her surprised expression.

“Vi…” she breathed out. “What are you—you can’t be here!”

Vi braced herself for this exact moment ever since the mission began. She played it over and over in her head, preparing herself for the confrontation. But no amount of rehearsals could stop the slight shake in her hands after hearing Caitlyn’s voice.

She hadn’t seen this woman in almost two years. Not in person, anyway.

Caitlyn just stared, her eyes boring into Vi’s like they were trying to say something more—or maybe scream it. Vi wanted to look away. She didn’t. Couldn’t. It felt like being punched without the bruises. Caitlyn just stood there, frozen like a statue, her eyes locked not on the paper Vi was holding but directly on her. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver throughout her body, but Vi dismissed the feeling. If Caitlyn wanted to freeze up, that was her problem.

Vi wasn’t going to give her time to recover.

“Well,” Vi drawled, tilting the paper to inspect it herself, “and you guys say Zaunites are the illiterate ones. Can nobody here read?”

The tension in the room was so thick it felt like it might snap at any moment. Still, Caitlyn didn’t react. Not another murmur, not a movement. She was stuck in her place, her focus unwavering from Vi as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Vi felt her pulse quicken, but she pushed forward regardless. Caitlyn had walked right into her trap, and it was time to set the plan into motion.

Vi sighed dramatically. “Okay, I’ll read it out myself, I guess,” she announced. “On behalf of the state of Zaun—oh, fancy—and the Whitlock name,” she strung out in her best actress voice, her eyes flicking briefly to Caitlyn.

“Private investigator Violet Lane shall be granted complete access to the Piltoven Enforcer team, specifically targeted to locate and inquire into Graham Whitlock and the missing boxers of the Undercity.”

Vi finished with a smile, lowering the paper to fully catch a glimpse of Caitlyn’s face. She caught herself enjoying her reaction a little, consumed with the the adrenaline of vengeance. But Vi wasn’t here to enjoy messing with Caitlyn, she was here to get close enough to do what needed to be done. To kill her.

Vi cleared her throat, tucking the paper back into her pocket with a smirk. “So,” she said, “we gonna stand here all day? What’s our next mission, cupcake?”

Chapter Text

Three—no, four people. Their footsteps left a pattern through the alleyway, circling the lanes and back like they were lost, or perhaps searching for something.

Caitlyn crouched down near some evidence on the ground, her fingers brushing over the edges of the shoe marks. Piltoven enforcers, definitely. The soles left distinct patterns that gave away their presence.

She could see them clearly in her mind: four figures walking through the streets of Zaun. She could almost hear their voices, the thoughts in their minds. This was her gift, the ability to piece together “crime scenes” as if she stood there to witness it herself.

But something was off.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed as she knelt on the ground, the scuff marks she couldn’t account for. She focused harder, replaying the scene in her mind. The figures moved, but their steps felt ... wrong. They lingered too long in certain places, too deliberate.

For one, Caitlyn knew the enforcers she had authorized to investigate the disappearances wouldn’t be here. They had no jurisdiction to be anywhere outside the Pits, and their orders were clear: locate the mad scientist, report back. Nothing else. Two, as a personal fashionista herself, Caitlyn knew the enforcer uniform better than anyone. The soles of these shoes? They didn’t match the ones in her closet, and she had a lot of different pairs.

She rubbed the dirt between her fingers, bringing her fingertips closer to her mouth. Caitlyn was determined to find out the truth with a taste. Just as her fingers were about to touch her lips, a melodic, all-too-familiar voice broke her concentration.

“Don’t tell me you’ve missed me so much you’ve started to eat dirt.”

Caitlyn scoffed, immediately brushing off her hands as if she hadn’t just been caught doing exactly that. Rising gracefully like a princess, she dusted the remaining debris from her custom made outfit.

Her uniform was unmistakably her, with details that seemed to say: Yes, I am a Kiramman. You may now worship me. And honestly, who else in Piltover would dare wear something so pretentious on the job? It was Caitlyn through and through.

Vi leaned casually against the wall with her arms crossed. She smirked as she eyed Caitlyn up and down. So very Piltover, Vi thought.

She remembered how much she used to hate enforcer uniforms—the stiff collars, tight fabrics, and, of course, that stupid ass beret. Caitlyn had somehow managed to convince her to wear the uniform back then, with the compromise that Vi could ditch the hat.

But now, things were different. Vi wasn’t going to follow anyone’s rules, especially not Caitlyn’s. She wore what she wanted, her leather jacket and bandaged hands peeking out from her rolled up sleeves. Too bad, she thought. Because she had to admit—she was kind of digging the red.

Speaking of red, who were those people? Vi had asked herself the question the second she stepped inside what used to be the enforcers' hornets’ nest. They definitely weren’t here now on this mission. It didn’t take much for Vi to figure out that some of these enforcers on the job had probably never even seen Zaun before today. She watched with amusement as they dug through garbage piles and poked at broken pipes.

“And what exactly are we looking for down here?” Vi asked sarcastically.

She snorted as she saw one particularly clueless recruit holding up a piece of scrap like it was some kind of museum artifact. Caitlyn, standing a few steps away, didn’t respond immediately. She hadn’t met Vi’s gaze since their brief reunion the day before—not once.

It didn’t take a real or fake detective to figure out why. The moment their eyes had locked in that moment, Caitlyn had shut herself off. She buried herself in work ever since, dragging the team into their first mission barely a day later.

Vi took a look at Caitlyn’s face, taking in the exhaustion under her eyes while the blue haired girl’s focus was still somewhere far away. It was clear she didn’t want this. She didn’t want her here. That much was obvious.

But Vi wasn’t leaving—not yet.

Caitlyn finally cleared her throat, clear and professional. “We’re following up on reports of contraband linked to the missing boxers. If there’s something here, we’ll find it.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, her classic smirk returning. “Right. Cus’ nothing says ‘Piltie excellence’ like digging through garbage.”

Caitlyn didn’t even flinch at Vi’s remark. She just turned away, gesturing for the team to continue. “Our team has detected a scientist capable of handling hextech,” Caitlyn began. “One of Silco’s men.”

At the mention of Silco’s name, Vi felt her stomach turn. “Why the Pit?”

“Sources say he tested on local fighters,” Caitlyn replied back like a know-it-all. “Airheads with muscle.”

Vi’s jaw tightened slightly at the words, her smirk fading into something different. Airheads? Sure, the fighters at the Pit weren’t philosophers or engineers, but they were hardworking survivors, just like her. Caitlyn’s ability to make such a distasteful comment without second thought always irked Vi. It was one of Caitlyn’s most sheltered qualities, her determination to say whatever she was thinking, regardless of who it might offend.

“Know a guy who organizes the bets,” Vi said curtly, choosing to ignore her comment. “Wanna talk to them?”

Caitlyn’s gaze swept over her team of enforcers. Some were hovering near bins with visible disgust on their faces, while others stood idly out of place. She let out a deep sigh. “Our team is too large to enter the Pits,” she replied. “It’ll cause a scene.”

“You and me, then. Just like old times.”

Caitlyn stiffened at the audacity of the statement. She swore she saw Vi’s grin widen as her own eye twitched. But Caitlyn quickly looked away, refusing to give Vi the satisfaction.

“I…” she strung out, her voice faltering slightly. “I’m responsible for my men. I can’t leave them—”

Her words were cut short as Vi stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Caitlyn instinctively backed up, her shoulders brushing against a nearby brick wall. The space between them narrowed to nothing, and she found herself forced to look up into Vi’s eyes.

Steel grey orbs bore into her like a hypnosis. Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat as she stared back.

“These idiots?” Vi asked, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb. “They couldn’t investigate their way out of a cardboard box.”

Caitlyn looked over to see one of her enforcers currently engaging in a battle with a glowing bug. The man had his palm open near his cheek, inching closer and closer in an attempt to slap the insect. Just as he swung, the bug flew away, and he landed a smack on his own face.

She heard Vi stifle a laugh while she held her breath, feeling her pulse quicken. “Come with me…” Vi murmured, her voice dropping as she leaned closer to Caitlyn’s ear.

Her lips parted to speak, but before she could utter a single word, a voice spoke up.

“Uh, Commander?”

Both women turned to see one of the enforcers standing a few steps away, his expression awkward and uncertain as if he walked in on something he shouldn’t have. His eyes darted between them before settling on the ground. He held a phone, the speaker covered by his palm.

“It’s Maddie,” he said.

Caitlyn let out her tenth huff of the day. She lifted her hands, pushing Vi back with force to create some space. She strode toward the enforcer and plucked the phone from his hands. “Excuse me,” Caitlyn dismissed herself.

Without another glance at Vi, she walked away toward a quieter corner to take the call.

Vi stood there watching her go. Her efforts were being overshadowed by another random peanut patrol officer. Caitlyn always put work first—that much hadn’t changed.

Vi drifted to the empty lanes of Zaun. This area was once busy with life but now the Pits were as empty as ever. The disappearances had scared off what little remained of the crowds, and the lack of good fights drained the place of its spirit. The only sign of life came from the occasional shimmer-ridden ghoul, but Vi could barely classify them as living.

In her lonesome, a thought crept into her mind.

How easy would it be?

Right here, right now, it was just the two of them. Sure, the enforcers were nearby, but they were clueless at best. If Caitlyn followed her into the Pits alone, it wouldn’t take much.

The headlines practically wrote themselves: Kiramman heir missing after investigations in Zaun. They’d most likely pin the blame on some random Zaunite mobster. And since the disappearances were already piling up, it would be too easy to throw Caitlyn in with the other victims.

If Caitlyn was gone, Vi could walk away easily from this mess. She could go home. She could finally focus on finding her sister without worrying about whether she’s dead or alive.

No gas. No hunts.

It would be so easy. Vi let out a slow breath, shaking her head slightly as she leaned harder against the wall. Focus, Lane, she told herself.

Caitlyn returned not too long after, gripping heavily on the phone. She wasn’t shying away from eye contact anymore.

“You better be on your best behavior,” Caitlyn growled, pointing a finger directly at Vi’s face.

Vi’s lips curved in amusement. It was like they were in the middle of a staring contest.

“When have I ever let you down?”

Caitlyn didn’t budge at all, her finger still pointed accusingly at the other girl. Vi leaned forward to playfully bite at Caitlyn’s finger. Caitlyn’s reflexes kicked in, pulling back just in time. The flustered look that flashed across Caitlyn’s face was priceless.

“Relax, princess,” Vi teased.

Caitlyn kissed her teeth, clearly over Vi’s antics, and began walking away. Vi followed her like a toddler and barely managed to catch herself when Caitlyn stopped abruptly just a few steps ahead.

“Team, I’ll be heading into the Pits personally to gather more information,” Caitlyn announced.

So much for flying under the radar, Vi thought.

“You may all head back to headquarters,” Caitlyn added. “Please ring if you need me.”

The enforcers froze, exchanging glances at each other. A few of them clearly questioned her command, but nobody dared to say anything out loud. Watching her team leave, she couldn’t help but recall the first time she set foot in this place. The moist air, the flickering lights, the run down … well, everything.

Caitlyn couldn’t stop herself from lingering on Vi’s muscled back as she led the way. When they stopped at a metal door, Vi knocked twice and a small rectangle slid open. How many of these things did they have in Zaun?

“Password?”

Vi leaned in slightly, giving Caitlyn a wink as she replied. “Hound.”

The panel snapped shut and the door opened immediately. Caitlyn hesitated for a moment, her memories flashing back like Deja-vu.

Vi caught Caitlyn’s hesitation with a knowing glance. “You coming, Matilda?” she joked, attempting to ease her up.

The air inside was thick and heavy. The roar of the crowd hit Caitlyn’s ears like a gust of wind, rattling in her bones like an expensive bass speaker.

In the center, the Pit came into view. Caitlyn certainly knew now why it was called the Pit, she just didn’t expect it to be so literal. The crowd leaned over the railings while the fighters in the ring moved like animals.

She frowned at a silhouette shouting over the noise near the betting counter. He was wildly scrawling on a slip of paper, exchanging it for a hefty bag of cogs.

“That him?” Caitlyn muttered, tilting her head toward the man.

Vi followed her gaze, nodding once. “Yeah, that’s our guy. Runs the bets for this whole shit show.”

Caitlyn straightened her coat, stepping through the crowd. She approached the man, who seemed too busy to even bother glancing at her.

“I need a word.”

The man was counting the cogs. “Busy now,” he grunted.

“You’ll be even busier if I bring my enforcers down here,” Caitlyn shot back.

The man froze for a moment, then slowly stopped counting.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Bar, upstairs. Give me ten.”

Caitlyn nodded before stepping back to where Vi waited. “Subtle as always,” she teased.

Caitlyn shot her a glance but said nothing. Vi led the way up the stairs, the noises of the Pit growing quieter as they entered the bar above.

Behind the counter stood a grizzled man with a rag over his shoulder. He looked up as they approached, his expression softening as he recognized a face.

“Well, that was fast,” the bartender—Loris, judging by the name on his apron—remarked.

Vi’s eyes widened slightly and she did a quick cutting motion to warn him to shut up. Caitlyn, clearly the better detective, caught it. Suspicion filled her head with thoughts. “Fast?” she repeated.

Loris chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, just a joke,” he said, waving it off like it was nothing. “You know how it goes in this business.”

Caitlyn didn’t look convinced. “You seem awfully familiar with this place,” she probed. “Do you come here often?”

Vi leaned casually against the bar, grabbing a glass and twirling it between her fingers. “What can I say babe? You know I love a good party,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

Loris coughed into his fist, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. Vi gave him another warning glance.

Before she could press further, Vi leaned closer to Caitlyn. “Whiskey on the rocks?” Vi asked, changing the subject.

Caitlyn was clearly unimpressed by the deflection, but felt her heart strings tug at the recommendation. Vi still remembered what she liked. “I’m not here to drink,” she replied, crossing her arms.

Vi hummed, setting the glass down. “Suit yourself, Cait,” she said.

The guy arrived minutes later. He was a small animal, similar to Heimerdinger. The man—or hamster—Caitlyn thought, had mechanical limbs attached to his hands and feet and had a silly looking top hat.

He saw Vi and formed a wide smile. “Well, if it isn’t the Hound herself,” he said in a raspy voice. “Nice seein’ you again. Figured you moved onto bigger things.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Smeech.”

His attention shifted to Caitlyn, or more so her uniform, and the friendliness disappeared. In the bustling atmosphere of the Pits, he didn’t recognize that it was Caitlyn Kiramman herself. “What’s up with this bitch?” he spat. “You turning me in, Vi? This some kind of setup?”

“Relax, Smeech. She’s with me,” she said firmly.

“With you? What, golden girl’s slumming it again?” He snorted, shaking his head. “Whatever. Your business, not mine.”

Smeech’s expression darkened as he leaned in slightly. “Things’ve been fucked lately,” he muttered. “Boxers disappearing, but I’m sure you already know that. It’s not anyone from down here. No one’s that stupid.”

Caitlyn frowned, making a mental note of this entire conversation. “Then who is it?”

Smeech ignored her entirely. “Pigs been snooping more than usual.” He paused. “And when one’s gone … trace of red always follows.”

Vi glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, studying Caitlyn’s reaction. Her acting was phenomenal, Vi thought. Fuck Piltover, she should pack her bags for Hollywood instead.

“Noxus soldiers?” Caitlyn whispered, her brows knitting together. “That doesn’t make sense. They shouldn’t even be in Zaun.”

“Well, they are,” Smeech snapped, finally addressing her before turning back to Vi. “Folks are scared, Vi. And the scared stop betting.”

Vi nodded, her expression unreadable. “Thanks for the tip, Smeech.”

“Y’know, you've lost me a lot of money, Vi,” his tone laced with dry amusement. “Drinks on you tonight. And not the cheap shit, either.”

Vi leaned her elbows on the counter like she owned the place. “Guess you’ll have to settle for water, then. I’m a bit tapped out these days.”

Smeech chuckled. “Figures. You’ve always been good at running, Hound, but you’re even better at leaving a mess behind you.”

Caitlyn’s frown had just been getting deeper and deeper. The back and forth between these two was familiar—too familiar for Caitlyn’s liking. She didn’t know much about what Vi had been up to during their time apart, and this furball was making things even more confusing.

You lost him a lot of money? Caitlyn pondered, her insides flipped slightly. And what’s this about drinks? How many times did she come here? Did she meet anyone else?

Caitlyn tried to shake off these thoughts, especially the last one. “It must be a mistake,” she said out loud. “I sent enforcers down here, yes, but their orders were to track a scientist, not harass boxers.”

“A scientist, huh?” He used his mechanical hand to scratch his furry head. “If you mean Singed, you’re wasting your time. Packed his stuff and moved with his daughter a while back. Haven’t seen him since.”

Singed? Her mind started calculating the implications, piecing together Smeech’s words against the reports she received.

If Singed is gone, then why are we even looking down here?

Meanwhile Vi was perfectly relaxed, playing around with a coaster as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

Caitlyn bit her lip, her mind racing. She couldn’t ignore this anymore. If what Smeech said was true, then her enforcers weren’t following orders—or worse, someone else was using her authority in her name.

And yet despite all of those problems, her thoughts kept drifting back to Vi. There was something in the way she carried herself, the way she spoke to Smeech, that felt … off.

After their chat, Vi led Caitlyn through the back exit near the bar. Caitlyn trailed behind, her eyes darted around to a sign.

“This is staff-only, Vi,” Caitlyn said. “How do you even—”

“Know my way around?” Vi interrupted. “You could say the Pits and I have history.”

She felt a prickling sense of irritation on her skin that she couldn’t explain. “Gambling, really?” Caitlyn blurted, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

Vi didn’t reply, which only made her feel more irritated. The familiarity with which she moved through the Pits was almost second nature to her. Caitlyn’s mind wandered again to something she didn’t want to think about. Was Vi seeing someone down in the Pits?

As they turned a corner, Caitlyn caught something on the wall, a row of plaques. She halted her movement when she read the engraved name. Violet Lane. Hound of the Underground. Over and over again. The medals filled the wall, each marking a victory in the Pits. Caitlyn felt sick seeing the amount … each one represented a fight, a struggle, an opponent Vi faced. There were so many. The thought of Vi putting herself in harm’s way again and again disturbed her more than she’d like to admit.

“I didn’t know you…” Caitlyn’s voice grew quiet as her fingers brushed against one of the plaques. “I thought you were gambling. I didn’t realize—”

“That I fought?” Vi cut in sharply.

Caitlyn hesitated. It was clear from her tone that she had hit a nerve, possibly reopened another wound. “How many times?” Caitlyn asked softly.

Vi let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through her blackened hair. “It’s none of your business,” she said.

That same suffocating feeling pressed down on Caitlyn. This was what Vi had been doing during her absence—throwing herself into fights, risking her life again and again. The plaques on the wall now felt more like gravestones than trophies. Vi turned to continue down the hall, but Caitlyn stopped her, holding onto her wrist gently.

“I don’t like your hair,” she said suddenly. Not even God himself knew what had possessed Caitlyn to reach out to touch Vi.

Vi froze mid step, feeling Caitlyn’s cold hands on her skin. Her throat was dry, but she somehow managed to muster up. “What?”

“You look like an angry oil slick,” her voice softer now. “The color … it’s not you.”

Vi stared at her, the walls she’d been holding up cracking just slightly. “Well, I’ve changed,” she replied, shaking Caitlyn’s hand off her wrist.

The ride back to headquarters was awkward yet strangely comfortable. Not in a relaxation type of way, but in familiarity. Vi stared out the window, watching buildings of Piltover pass by, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Caitlyn leaned back in her seat, stealing occasional glances at Vi.

It was actually the first time Vi had ever been in a vehicle. She had opted to meet the team in Zaun by herself, and since Caitlyn technically had no control over her actions, Vi could do as she pleased. But now, she was both too physically and mentally exhausted to put up a fight. Neither of them said a word, and yet, the silence wasn’t unbearable.

When the vehicle pulled up in front of the headquarters that Vi stormed into yesterday, Caitlyn was the first to step out. The polished floors and walls were a complete 180 degrees turn from where they were just at. Caitlyn seemed to slip into her role as commander again effortlessly while Vi didn’t know what to do with herself.

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both glance up. A woman appeared at the far end of the hall.

She was the complete opposite of Vi, with sleek ginger hair that reached almost to her hips and a dress made her look like an aristocrat. Her smile lit up when she landed on Caitlyn. Without hesitation, she placed a hand on Caitlyn’s arm, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.

Vi froze mid step, wanting to set the world on pause for a quick breather.

The woman turned her gaze to Vi with the notion of someone used to reading people. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said politely.

“Madeline Nolen,” she introduced herself in her full name.

Ah, the person on the phone earlier.

“… Caitlyn’s girlfriend.”

Oh.

Vi stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before shaking, her grip firm but not overly friendly.

“Vi.”

Maddie’s smile didn’t waver, but there was something—curiosity, maybe—in her eyes. “You must be the investigator from Zaun,” her voice almost too pleasant.

“That’s me. Guess you could say I’m here to help.”

Maddie’s hand still rested lightly on Caitlyn’s arm. “Well, I hope your investigation proves fruitful. Caitlyn’s been under a lot of stress lately. The last thing she needs is more complications.”

Vi was strangely overwhelmed with a rush of adrenaline, an urge to say something out of pocket. “Don’t worry,” she replied. “I know a lot of great ways to relieve stress.”

Caitlyn cleared her throat picking up on the tension and the innuendo. “Maddie,” she said, her voice flustering. “This is Vi. She’s … an old colleague.”

“Colleague,” Vi repeated under her breath, fighting the urge to laugh.

Maddie gave Vi another smile, squeezing Caitlyn’s arm in plain view. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Vi,” she said, though her tone suggested the opposite. “We’ll see you around.”

Vi released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding once they left. Well, this was going to make things a lot more difficult, she thought.

Chapter Text

[Confidential Report]

Classified

Date: [Date Redacted]

Authorized Personnel Only

---

Overview:

The experiment resulted in catastrophic failure. All test subjects (Unit ID: HX-17 through HX-21) were pronounced deceased following trauma sustained during the trials. One subject, Unit HX-19, survived briefly but succumbed to injuries within 12 hours of exposure.

Observations:

• The Hextech orb’s energy emitted severe heat during attempted integration, causing second to third-degree burns upon contact with skin.
• Attempts to synchronize the orb’s energy with the body’s nervous system resulted in neurological overload, seizures, cardiac arrest, and immediate organ failure in 75% of test subjects.
• Missing Orb still unaccounted for, following prior incidents (Item #: HX-O3).

Report Compiled By: [Redacted]

Approved By: [Redacted]

---

Caitlyn closed the folder with a thud, trying to process the information she just read. She stepped back from the desk, distancing herself from the report.

“Caitlyn,” Ambessa’s voice boomed through the room. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Caitlyn straightened her posture, turning slowly to face the figure. She perched herself on the edge of the desk, attempting to stay calm despite the ambiguous feeling in her chest.

Ambessa scanned the room before settling on Caitlyn, her expression softening just slightly. “You look worn out, child,” she said. “What did I say about getting proper sleep?”

Her hands still tingled, a phantom burn from the touch she shared with Vi yesterday. She didn’t expect it to linger like this. And Maddie. Maddie had called her during work, firm and insistent on the line. She was already on her way to the precinct, determined to drag Caitlyn away from her job. No matter how many times Caitlyn tried to assure her it was fine, Maddie wasn’t taking no for an answer.

When Caitlyn had stepped out of the vehicle with Vi, she hoped for just a little more time to breathe. But Maddie was already waiting for her, standing at the precinct like a totem pole.

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn declared, the words being used so often they had lost their meaning. “I can do this.”

But was she fine? Ambessa’s eyes lingered on her. And she could see it, Caitlyn knew—how Vi’s sudden reappearance had disrupted everything, shaken Caitlyn down to her very core.

“Did you find anything useful in the Pits?”

Caitlyn’s pulse quickened. She felt like a schoolgirl caught sneaking a look at the principal’s files, even though she was the Commander, the one who made the rules.

“Not much,” Caitlyn replied. “How did you know I was there?”

Ambessa moved past Caitlyn as she circled the desk and settled into her chair.

“Your men,” Ambessa said. “I saw them come back without you ... and that girl.”

Caitlyn stiffened, cursing herself silently. Of course Ambessa knew. Her men returning without their commander was an obvious answer, one Caitlyn should have accounted for.

She was getting sloppy, she realized, too caught up in her own emotions to keep her usual sharpness intact. Ambessa leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze steady on Caitlyn. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she added, her voice almost teasing.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “I had every right to go in alone. The situation required discretion.”

The words felt fake, like she was trying to convince herself as much as Ambessa. Caitlyn felt nervous, trying to figure out why it felt like she was tiptoeing around this conversation. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, nothing Ambessa wouldn’t approve of. And yet, the mere mention of that girl—Vi—felt like a forbidden topic.

“Ah, the recent report is here,” Ambessa moved on rather quickly. “Have you taken a look yet?”

Caitlyn’s fingers toyed with the hem of her jacket, playing with a stray thread. If she said yes, she would be admitting to snooping. But could it really be called snooping if she was the leader? A yes would also mean confronting Ambessa about the inconsistencies she noticed—the scratched-out date, the survivor in the report, the missing hextech orb. And there was also Singed. They had been searching for this man for what felt like ages, but he was supposedly already gone.

She would have to address the Noxus soldiers seen operating without her orders. And yet, saying no felt like a lie. And not just any lie—a deliberate one. A no would leave her isolated, uncertain of who she could count on. The thoughts circled in her mind, the right and left sides of her shoulders battling for control. Was there even a right answer here?

Ambessa seemed to take her silence as an answer of its own. Caitlyn heard the sound of papers shifting and the folder being pulled open.

“It would be of great interest for you to meet with the Whitlocks before Progress Day tomorrow.”

Progress Day. Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel a wave of exhaustion wash over her at the thought. The annual celebration, meant to honor the invention of Hextech and inspire confidence in Piltover’s future, had become less about innovation and more about a show.

For years, it had been Heimerdinger who gave out speeches. Last year, it was Jayce. But now, with Heimerdinger and Jayce’s locations unknown, there was only one logical choice left to address the crowd: Caitlyn.

She had been preparing for weeks, re-writing her notes, practicing in front of the mirror late at night. Maddie often found her standing there with cue cards in her hands. She would sigh, attempt to pry the cards from Caitlyn’s grip, and guide her back to bed.

But sleep didn’t come easy. Not when Caitlyn knew what was expected of her. She would have to stand before the crowd in Times Square, speaking of Hextech’s progress despite not having a dedicated research team, reassuring them that Piltover’s future was still bright—even though she wasn’t sure it was.

“There’s no need for that,” she muttered, brushing off Ambessa’s suggestion with a wave of her hand.

“We need them on our side,” she replied firmly. “You going with Vi will prove that we are truly invested in helping them solve this case.”

The mention of Vi made Caitlyn’s shoulders tense, though she kept her expression neutral. Ambessa always had a way of saying things so that Caitlyn couldn’t argue, even if she wanted to. And right now, Caitlyn didn’t have the energy for a debate. She pushed herself off the edge of Ambessa’s desk, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.

“Be careful, Caitlyn,” Ambessa called after her, her tone laced with an almost maternal feeling that Caitlyn didn’t know if she could trust.

With a faint nod, she stepped out of the room, letting the door click softly shut behind her.

Vi stared at the leaf resting in her palm standing out against her calloused skin. It had floated down from one of the willow trees in the Whitlock garden. She hadn’t really noticed the beauty of the place during her initial meeting with the family.

Actually, Vi rarely stopped to notice much of anything anymore. Sitting alone in her thoughts was the last thing she wanted. It was easier to keep moving, to keep her fists busy in the pits or her mind clouded by liquor. But now, sitting on the garden bench, the world around her felt quieter.

She studied its veins, marveling at how something so fragile could be so amazingly designed. A thought flickered in her mind—maybe I like nature. She almost chuckled at the idea. If she was ever reborn as someone else, maybe she’d spend her days in places like this, surrounded by trees and flowers, far away from the chaos she couldn’t seem to escape.

Vi shifted her weight on the bench while waiting for Caitlyn. Being asked, or rather demanded, to accompany Caitlyn to visit the Whitlocks didn’t really matter much to her. She was already staying in the mansion, and proving her “dedication” to the case by tagging along was just another part of the act. None of it mattered. Graham’s disappearance, the investigation—it was all just a convenient excuse for her to be here.

Vi scowled at herself, tossing the leaf aside like it might toss away her feelings too. Being around Caitlyn for even a short while had already started breaking down the careful walls she built. Her mind was a mess, filled with memories and questions she didn’t want to answer. But it wasn’t really different from before. Even when Caitlyn wasn’t around, she haunted Vi’s thoughts.

She chickened out yesterday. Vi had every opportunity to end things right there, but she let herself get distracted. Loris, Smeech, and the being in the Pits as a spectator was a lot to take in at once.

And then there was Caitlyn. Her touch. Cold, lifeless, nothing like what Vi remembered.

Stop it, Lane.

She shouldn’t let herself get caught up, shouldn’t let herself believe Caitlyn’s act. Because that’s all it was—an act. Pretending not to know about the raids, the destruction, the missing boxers.

And speaking of the Devil, there she was, approaching with that unmistakable Kiramman confidence, dressed in high-waisted slacks and a black turtleneck.

“You look like you’re about to sell me a Hexphone,” she joked, rising from the bench to meet Ms. Steve Jobs herself.

“And you look like you’re about to rob me,” she shot back, her tone dry but not unkind.

Caitlyn ran a finger through the ends of her hair, her high ponytail swaying slightly with the wind. Vi had never seen her dressed so casually before, and she hated to admit that Caitlyn looked good. Really good. Just because she was here to kill her didn’t mean she didn’t have eyes.

“New top?”

“Hm, Maddie bought it for me,” Caitlyn replied absently.

Oh yes, how could she forget?

Caitlyn’s supposed girlfriend had to make everything much more difficult. That little twerp. She was everything Vi wasn’t—wealthy, proper ... smaller. They didn’t even look remotely alike, not in style, not in attitude. It was like Caitlyn picked someone from a completely different universe to fill the space Vi once occupied.

Caitlyn’s deadpan expression, completely oblivious, only fueled her annoyance. Always so serious, Kiramman. Vi resisted the urge to groan. Caitlyn had never been one for humor, and apparently, nothing had changed.

“Let’s go,” Vi muttered. “They’re probably waiting for us.”

The door was opened for them by yet another butler, and Caitlyn walked in with her usual grace. Vi, on the other hand, still wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. Doors opened for her, coats taken off her shoulders without so much as a word. It all felt ... unnatural. What, are their arms broken? she thought bitterly, stepping in after Caitlyn.

Inside, the Whitlock parents were seated on the living room couch, chatting about. Their conversation came to a halt the moment they noticed Caitlyn. Like clockwork, a pair of perfectly robotic smiles spread across their faces.

“Commander!” Grace exclaimed, rising from her seat in politeness that felt a little too rehearsed. She offered her majesty, the princess of Piltover, a curt bow.

“There’s no need for that, Mrs. Whitlock,” Caitlyn’s tone was soft yet authoritative as she approached the living room.

Vi went completely unnoticed by the rest of the room. “Forgetting someone?” Vi chimed in, clutching her chest dramatically as her face contorted in fake pain. “I’m so hurt ... I don’t think I can continue this investigation…”

Caitlyn, now seated on the couch opposite the Whitlocks, took a sip of her tea with her eyes closed. She didn’t even flinch at Vi’s antics, as if she had grown used to them. The butlers however, looked absolutely mortified. Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling deeply.

“Vi, we just saw you earlier, dear,” she strained. “Just come sit down, please.”

Vi let out a low whistle before hopping over to the seat next to Caitlyn. “You guys are no fun,” she said, plopping down and stretching her legs out like she owned the place.

It wasn’t until someone mentioned Innovation Day that Vi’s ears perked up. She vaguely remembered hearing about it a while ago. It seemed like a big deal in Piltover, judging by how much emphasis the Whitlocks and Caitlyn were putting on it.

What caught her attention most was the comment about Caitlyn being the one to deliver the highly anticipated speech.

The thought of Caitlyn standing on a stage, representing Piltover and all its "innovations," made her feel sick. Innovations for who? Piltover celebrated its so-called progress while Zaun was in shambles.

Martial law in the streets, enforcers treating her people like pests, and here they were, sipping tea and celebrating. It wasn’t just hypocritical—it was infuriating.

Graham cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on the empty chair at the corner. “Is Briar not down from her room yet?”

Grace sighed, stirring a sugar cube into her tea. “That girl barely leaves her room lately,” she replied. “Do you mind fetching her, Vi, darling?”

Vi barely contained her moan. Just because she and Briar were around the same age, the Whitlocks seemed to think they had some sort of natural bond.

She couldn’t quite figure out the Whitlocks. They were kinder to her than she’d anticipated—too kind, really. It wasn’t the icy, formal hospitality she expected from Piltover elites. They barely spent a day and a half together, and yet Grace acted like Vi was some kind of magical bridge between their family and the Undercity.

Despite the accusations the Briar had thrown at her the other day, Grace seemed convinced that Briar had taken an interest in Vi. It was baffling, but Grace was insistent. Maybe she sees me as some exotic zoo animal for her spoiled daughter to gawk at, Vi thought sarcastically.

Breakfast earlier had been ... tolerable. Briar had joined them at the table for the first time in weeks, according to Mrs. Whitlock. There were no murder accusations that morning, though Vi didn’t miss the occasional side-eyes from that girl across the table.

Vi threw her head back on the couch, making a dramatic noise. “Can’t we just talk without her? It’s not like she gives a damn anyw—”

A sharp pain shot through her right thigh, cutting her off mid-sentence. “What the hell, Cait?” she yelped.

Caitlyn sat beside her, looking as composed as ever. She ignored Vi’s yelp, calmly retracting her hand as if she hadn’t just pinched her like an annoying little sister.

“We can go together,” Caitlyn said. “Vi can show me around while we’re at it.”

Vi’s jaw dropped. “Hell no! Go get her yourself!”

Caitlyn’s smile didn’t falter, but her gaze snapped to Vi. That look. The same look she always gave when she wanted Vi to shut up and do what she said. It had been years, but the look hadn’t changed. Back then, she would have laughed it off and teased Caitlyn just to see her crack.

“Fine,” Vi gave in. She stood up reluctantly, grumbling under her breath.

The Whitlocks exchanged knowing glances. It was the kind of telepathy only couples who had seen each other through years of marriage could master. Whatever they had picked up on, it was clear—they had caught onto something that Caitlyn and Vi were oblivious to.

Vi trudged toward the staircase without sparing another glance at the Whitlocks. Caitlyn, ever the polite lady, offered Grace and Grant a quick smile before following behind.

It was silent going up the staircase, but it wasn’t awkward. The same kind of silence they shared in the vehicle yesterday—strangely comfortable, as if words weren’t necessary, but also loud with everything left unsaid.

Caitlyn broke the quietness first. “Do you have to be so brazen toward the Whitlocks?”

And there it was. Caitlyn always had to start. Always had to say something without knowing a damn about the situation.

“Brazen?” Vi repeated. “Big word, Commander. What’s next, you gonna teach me manners?”

“I’m just saying,” Caitlyn replied. “You don’t have to make everything a fight.”

“It’s none of your business,” Vi shot over her shoulder as she picked up her pace. She was going to have to remind Caitlyn of this over and over again.

But Caitlyn wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “What you do now is my business, Vi,” she countered, slightly out of breath trying to catch up with her. “Your actions reflect on our work together.”

Vi stopped in front of Briar’s door, her fists tightening at her sides. “There is no our,” she snapped, gesturing between the two of them. “There isn’t us anymore, Caitlyn. Don’t get it twisted.”

Caitlyn held her ground. She had always been a little taller, and right now, she used every inch of that height to her advantage. They stood there, locked in a staring showdown. Vi’s steel-grey eyes burned with irritation, but Caitlyn’s cerulean orbs didn’t flinch.

“They’re letting you stay here, Vi,” Caitlyn said firmly. “Would it hurt to show a little compassion during their circumstance? They’ve lost their son, for God’s sake.”

Vi’s expression contorted in a mix of disbelief and anger. Compassion? For these people? Why should she waste even a shred of energy showing compassion to a family of wealthy snobs who wouldn’t give a fuck about her if she wasn’t here to help them?

Without caring who might hear or see, Vi stepped forward, closing the already small distance between her and Caitlyn.

“I’m not a stray dog,” Vi hissed. “I don’t need a place to stay.”

The tension between them was thick and heavy enough to cut with a knife. After a few agonizing seconds, she let out a scoff, breaking the intense stare as she turned away.

“Sorry if my actions embarrass you, your highness,” Vi threw out, her tone sarcastic. “I know you’ve got so much on your plate—your speech tomorrow, ruling the world, your little girlfriend—”

“Keep Maddie out of this,” Caitlyn snapped.

The mention of Maddie struck a nerve, but not in the way Caitlyn intended it to. Without turning around, Vi spoke again, her voice quieter. “Don’t worry,” she said. “She’ll see soon enough.”

Vi felt it before she saw it—the same cold hands against her wrist. Caitlyn’s grip pulled her back sharply, forcing her to turn and meet those blue eyes once more. But the movement had been too sudden, and Vi stumbled slightly, almost pressed up against Caitlyn’s body.

“What do you mean by that?” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

The whispered words sent a shiver down Vi’s spine. Caitlyn’s gaze flickered, just for a second, down to her lips before looking back up to meet her eyes. The gesture wasn’t missed by Vi, actually it was almost enough to make her lose composure completely.

But there was no warmth in Caitlyn’s touch, no heat radiating from her body despite how close they were. It was freezing, her grip, her words, her entire being. The Caitlyn she had once known wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe Vi wasn’t looking hard enough.

Vi swallowed hard, forcing her heart to steady in her chest.

“They’ll see you as you are,” Vi said, her voice low and rough.

Before Caitlyn could respond, the door behind Vi creaked open. Vi jerked her arm out of Caitlyn’s grip, taking a step back as if trying to erase what had just happened.

Caitlyn didn’t move. Her hand hung in the air for a second too long, as if paused in place. A flicker of pain crossed her face, barely there but unmistakable.

It was Briar. The younger Whitlock grabbed both of their arms and pulled them into her room.

“The entirety of Piltover is going to hear you two,” she shushed. Briar poked her head out of the doorway, scanning left and right down the hall. “What are you even talking about?”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, trying to come up with something believable.

“Just something in our, um, investigations,” Vi said with a shrug. She turned toward Caitlyn, who was still standing stiffly by the door like a statue. “Right, commander?”

Silence.

Vi clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to go up to the mongoose and shake her like a tambourine. Seriously? Of all times for Caitlyn to freeze up, it had to be now?

She leaned closer, nudging Caitlyn’s arm with her elbow expecting her to add something snarky to the conversation or shoot her one of those looks she mastered so well. Instead, Caitlyn was staring off at something else entirely. She was staring at a bunch of paintings scattered along the walls and floor of the room.

They were portraits, or at least they were supposed to be, but not a single face was complete. Every one of them was missing something—features blurred, scratched out with rough lines, or smeared with a mix of colors. It was unsettling, though Vi couldn’t quite get why.

The first time she saw these, Vi had dismissed it as some pretentious creative decision. But now, with Caitlyn studying them so intensely, Vi found herself taking a closer look too.

“Pilties so ugly you can’t even draw their faces?” Vi said out loud, breaking the silence. Her tone was playful, but she was focused on the distorted portraits longer than she intended.

Briar let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. She walked over to the pile of paintings, bending down to pick up an unfinished canvas.

“Something like that,” Briar muttered. Her fingers traced the smeared paint as if searching for something that wasn’t there. “I don’t know … I just can’t seem to get it right.”

Vi tilted her head slightly, taking in Briar’s words. So, it wasn’t some artistic statement after all. She wasn’t painting them like this on purpose. She was trying to get them right—and failing.

“Get what right?”

Briar hesitated, her fingers brushing over the blurred lines of the painting in her hands. “Nobody feels real here,” she said quietly. “It’s hard to explain.”

Vi watched the younger woman’s face. For all her snark and bravado, Briar looked tired—like she had been carrying something heavy on her shoulders for a long time. Vi didn’t know what to say to that so she covered it with her usual humor.

“Fine,” she said, gesturing to herself. “I’ll be your muse.” She wiggled her eyebrows, flashing a grin.

The sound of Briar’s laugh caught Vi by surprise. This time, it wasn’t a sarcastic one she heard before. It was genuine.

“Let’s go,” Vi said, gesturing toward the door. “Your parents are looking for you.”

Briar nodded, setting the painting down on her cluttered desk. There was no protest, no biting comment—just a quiet understanding that passed between them.

As they walked toward the door, Vi stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. Her fingers brushed against a small orb tucked safely inside.

She swiped it under Caitlyn’s nose the day before, back at the precinct. Caitlyn had left with Maddie, and Vi took the opportunity to pocket the Hextech orb before anyone noticed. She didn’t know exactly why the man in the shop needed it by Innovation Day, and honestly, she didn’t care. A deal was a deal, and Vi wasn’t the type to back out on her word.

Vi let out a silent breath of relief after confirming it was still there. “Ready?”

Briar gave a small nod, and the two of them stepped out into the hallway.

“You coming, Cait?” Vi asked, looking past her shoulder.

Caitlyn nodded, but said nothing back.

Vi sighed. “Alright,” she said, turning to follow Briar out of the room.

For a moment, Caitlyn remained where she was. Her gaze lingered on the paintings that lined the walls, their blurred faces staring back at her, incomplete. Something about them clawed at her chest.

A single tear slipped down her cold, porcelain cheek. It felt scalding against her skin. Caitlyn inhaled sharply, before quickly brushing it away with the back of her hand.

Chapter Text

Left foot.

Vi held her breath in her lungs, making sure not even a sliver of air escaped.

Right foot.

The floorboard creaked, whining a little against the pressure of her weight.

Fuck, Vi grimaced. She should’ve skipped breakfast that morning. But no, the Whitlocks had practically dragged her to the dining table again, insisting that her presence was vital to “family unity” or some crap like that. Sure, because nothing says kumbaya like passive aggressive glances across a table piled with fancy food. And her presence totally had nothing to do with their estranged daughter at all.

“Thank you all for gathering here today as we commemorate this pivotal occasion in our city’s enduring history…”

Cold steel brushed against Vi’s arm, the hidden blade tucked beneath her sleeve. She had seen the deer pelts before—the ones displayed on the Kiramman walls. It was years ago, the first time she snuck in through Caitlyn’s bedroom window. The Kirammans weren’t just hunters; they were marksmen. Precision ran through their blood.

But with guns came trauma. A bullet, no matter how expertly shot, tore through tissue. A knife, though? A blade required patience, skill, and intention. It avoided the bullet’s damage, keeping the pelt intact.

“Piltover prides itself on its innovations. We are a city at the forefront of progress, a beacon of what the future can hold when ingenuity meets determination…”

Her vision blurred a bloodshot red. Like a predator locked onto its prey, her eyes fixed on Caitlyn’s jugular beneath her soft, pale skin. Vi sniffed the invisible trail to the Commander’s neck like a hunting dog catching the scent.

That’s all she had ever been, wasn’t it? The Hound of the Underground. Piltover had called her that in disgust while Zaun with pride, though it meant the same thing in the end.

A dog.

A beast to be commanded, to chase, to fight, to kill.

She was born to live and die by that name.

Her knife unsheathed like an assassin. The Commander was just steps away now, in a room alone, practicing her speech.

“But what is our future, if we do not acknowledge the past?”

Her hands trembled as she approached right behind her former lover. She could smell her familiar flowery perfume, even with her breath held. Vi was going to make this fast, a quick strike to her vital organ with preciseness, to show the hunter how it would feel to be hunted.

“I was advised not to say this, but my late mother opened my eyes to something valuable…”

If Vi didn’t do this now, she wouldn’t know when she’d have another chance. But Caitlyn was making it too easy. She was standing there, completely vulnerable. No guards, no defences.

Vi hated her for that—she felt angry that Caitlyn allowed her this moment. For forcing her to make this choice.

And then she felt remorse at the mention of Cassandra. I’m sorry, Caitlyn, she said mentally. Vi raised the blade, ready to strike. It was what Caitlyn would’ve done, wasn’t it? To remove a threat before it grew too large to contain?

“The people of the Undercity deserve to breathe.”

Caitlyn was scrambling across her vanity, fixing up her neatly combed hair and adjusting the belts and straps of her outfit. She wasn’t just the Commander; she was a Kiramman, and the world demanded she looked the part.

She had woken up hours earlier than usual, careful not to disturb Maddie still sleeping beside her. Caitlyn wasn’t sure if her actions were out of consideration or avoidance. Maddie had been more … present lately. It wasn’t just the unexpected calls during her missions or the constant check ins, it was the way she clung to her like a noose. Caitlyn couldn’t breathe without Maddie noticing.

But today was different. Today, Caitlyn couldn’t avoid Maddie. It was her first Progress Day as the leader of Piltover, and Maddie was expected to be by her side.

But as the clock ticked down, Caitlyn realized she wasn’t looking forward to the ceremony or the cocktail parties. The precinct was empty due to the holiday, and she was looking forward to some alone time in her office.

Walking through the building, she felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. There were no officers, no case files waiting to be reviewed, no Maddie trailing behind her.

When she reached her office, she didn’t just turn the knob normally. No. She slammed the doors wide open.

Why? Simply because nobody was watching.

She was expecting to hear a noise, you know, the typical sound of the doorknob hitting the wall. But today the doors decided to defy gravity … and realism. Instead of a slam, the door made a different sound. One that resembled a human youch.

She pulled out her signature pistol from its holster. “Step out. Now.”

The “intruder” complied faster than she expected, hands shooting into the air so quick it was almost funny.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”

The voice was familiar. Caitlyn melted into a long sigh, rolling her eyes as she lowered her weapon.

“For heaven’s sake, Vi,” she exclaimed. “Why are you hiding behind my door?!”

“You’ve got great instincts, I’ll give you that,” she teased, ignoring Caitlyn’s question.

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. “Just answer the question.”

“Heard you stomping around like a bunny on shimmer,” Vi said with a shrug. “Thought I’d give you a little scare when you walked in.”

Caitlyn blinked in disbelief as her gun clinked back into its holster. “A scare?” she repeated.

“Didn’t know you’d go all trigger finger on me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t loiter behind doors,” Caitlyn shot back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk into rooms like you’re storming the gates of hell.”

An embarrassing heat flared up Caitlyn’s neck and spread across her cheeks. She had been caught acting foolish, and by Vi, of all people.

After everything that happened yesterday, Vi had the nerve to act like none of it had even mattered. This wasn’t new, though. It had become their unspoken thing: arguing, bickering—and then pretending it was all a bad dream by the next day. Vi never brought up their fights again. Caitlyn didn’t either.

On the surface, it seemed convenient. Professional, even. There were no grudges forming, no apologies. They could focus on solving the case and nothing else. At least, that’s what Caitlyn tried to convince herself.

But deep down, Vi made Caitlyn question the nature of their relationship. Did Vi not care enough to hold onto their fights? Or did she bury them so deep that even Caitlyn couldn’t reach them?

She knew Vi wasn’t one to let go of grudges easily. Her vendetta against Silco was proof of that. Silco had stolen everything from her: her father, her sister, her childhood. That hatred burned so fiercely in Vi that nothing could stop her.

Caitlyn wasn't stupid, she also knew that Vi disliked her, hated her even. She had every reason to. So she braced herself for the remarks, the jabs, the verbal insults.

One moment they’d be at each other’s throats, and the next, Vi would be cracking jokes, flashing that stupid grin like Caitlyn hadn’t just threatened to pull her hair out.

“Blushing, are we?” Vi teased, her lips pouting.

Caitlyn scoffed, drawing her gun again, pointing it at Vi’s chest. “Don’t make me shoot you for real.”

Vi leaned in, her hand reaching out to grab the barrel of the gun. She guided it upward until it pressed against her forehead. The smirk on her face didn’t move for a second, her eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s like bear traps.

“So shoot,” Vi challenged.

Caitlyn’s pupils dilated as the weight of the gun felt suddenly unbearable. Vi shoved the gun away playfully, the barrel jerking to the side as Caitlyn’s arm went limp. “Relax, you look like a candy cane,” she said.

Vi always played games like this—teasing her just enough to get under her skin. “As if,” Caitlyn muttered. “Why are you even here right now?”

“Uh, because we’re supposed to be at work?” Vi replied back, gesturing outside Caitlyn’s office. “Speaking of which ... where is everyone?”

It hit Caitlyn that Vi had absolutely no idea that Piltovens weren't required to work on Progress Day.

“Outside celebrating,” Caitlyn said, a small laugh escaped her lips before she could stop herself. “We don’t work today. Nobody does.”

Vi let out an exaggerated noise of acknowledgment. Caitlyn couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way Vi rubbed at her jaw, wincing slightly. A pang of sympathy flickered through Caitlyn as she realized she had slammed the door open so hard that it must have hurt.

She didn’t entirely know why, but her legs carried her forward before her brain could catch up. It was like the ghost of Heimerdinger himself had possessed her body. Her thumb brushed lightly against Vi’s face, tracing along the strong chisel with the kind of gentleness she didn’t usually have with anyone else.

“Does it hurt?”

Vi didn’t answer. Caitlyn hesitated when trailing her hand down from Vi’s jaw to the side of her neck. Slowly, she moved lower, settling on her shoulder.

Vi tensed under her touch, though she didn’t pull away. Caitlyn squeezed the firm curve of Vi’s deltoid, the tattoos on her neck and back peeking out from beneath her collar. She noticed that Vi had lost weight, looked leaner than usual, but ever so buff in all the right places.

Caitlyn felt Vi's goosebumps form, her face red like the tips of her hair. Caitlyn liked it. She liked the way Vi’s breath hitched, the way her muscles twitched beneath her, the way she couldn’t quite meet her gaze.

This was a wicked game she was playing, at least Caitlyn understood that part. For years, she had pushed any thoughts of Vi into a dark corner of her mind. She built walls around the memories. And yet, Vi always managed to break through. No matter how hard Caitlyn tried to shut her out, Vi would slip back in, like a thief in the night, stealing her focus and invading her thoughts.

It wasn’t intentional. Caitlyn didn’t want this. But she couldn’t help it.

Red. It was a primary color, unavoidable and dominant. It was anger, vengeance, frustration—and heavens, it was lust.

Especially lust.

Ever since Vi had come back into her life, something inside Caitlyn shifted. She caught herself staring too long at Vi’s broad back, her sharp jawline tightening whenever Caitlyn mentioned Maddie. Her hands, wrapped in bandages, long and rough. Her fingers—God, her fingers. Caitlyn bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ground herself.

It was wrong.

Perverse. Twisted.

Caitlyn knew all of this, and yet, knowing didn’t make it stop. It only made it worse. There was a black hole inside her, gaping and insatiable, pulling everything into an endless void. She had tried to fill it—to quiet it—last night, while her girlfriend was fast asleep next to her. But nothing worked, the ache remained.

“Look who’s the one blushing now,” Caitlyn mocked.

She braced herself for Vi’s reaction. She expected her to snap, to shove Caitlyn away, maybe raise her voice in that way Vi always did when emotions ran high. Instead, she stood there as calm as a morning tide.

The calmness felt like a slap. Caitlyn tried to convince herself that this was just an attempt to get a reaction out of Vi. Any reaction. A real, honest emotion.

But deep down, Caitlyn knew better. She wasn’t a cruel person, wasn’t someone who took pleasure in stirring the pot for fun. And yet ... her thoughts had drifted to darker places. She told herself she didn’t mean those other things. Those fantasies.

So why couldn’t she stop imagining Vi losing her temper? Pushing her up against the wall, pinning her there, calling her out for what she really was—corrupt, obsessive, demonic. Why did the thought of Vi’s voice dripping with anger, threatening to expose her, make the core between her legs heat? Like it would mean something was finally on the line between them?

Caitlyn didn’t know what was worse: the fact that she had these thoughts, or the fact that she wanted them to be real.

With a sharp breath, Caitlyn finally pulled her hand away, breaking the spell.

“Don’t tell me you’re wearing that to the speech,” she said, glancing over Vi’s outfit.

“What makes you think I’ll be going?”

The sudden change in Vi’s attitude irritated Caitlyn. Out of everything she had done and said so far, this was the thing Vi chose to respond to?

Caitlyn’s lips twitched. “If you’re part of this investigation, you represent Piltover. Like it or not."

“Yeah? Then maybe your fancy cop squad can chip in and buy me a tux,” Vi replied, daring Caitlyn to take the bait.

“This isn’t a joke, Vi. You can’t just show up in the same battered jacket and trousers you’ve been wearing since you got here.”

“What do you want me to do, huh? Go shopping on Piltie Main Street?” Her voice was quieter now, but the frustration was there. “Don’t have a closet full of shit like you do, cupcake.”

Caitlyn squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. She had to win something. Anything. “All members of the enforcer squad must be present,” she said firmly.

“I’m not part of your little squad. I don’t work for you, remember?”

“You are part of the team,” Caitlyn snapped back, her tone firm and precise. “Section 428 of your certification contract explicitly states as much.” It was a blatant lie. She was counting on Vi to catch it, to call her out.

What Caitlyn didn’t expect was for Vi to falter. She hesitated, her words stumbling. “Uh, oh … yeah.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed as she studied Vi. Something felt ... off. She watched as Vi’s gaze dropped, before snapping back up to meet her eyes. For the first time, Vi wasn’t meeting her with defiance or snark. Caitlyn huffed under her breath, coming to a realization.

Vi wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore!

“There’s gotta be something here I can wear,” Vi muttered, her voice unusually quiet as she glanced around the room.

Caitlyn exhaled. “Shops are all closed," she began, then she paused, an idea sparked in her mind. "Though ... there are some things at my home that may be suitable.”

Well, Caitlyn never said it was a good idea. As soon as the words left her lips, she immediately regretted it. The last time Vi had set foot there was years ago, after the blast that left Caitlyn with a leg injury.

And she almost forgot about Maddie. She was probably home right now, doing ... well, whatever it was Maddie did when Caitlyn wasn’t around.

Before she could retract her offer, Vi interrupted her thoughts with a low chuckle. “Buy me a drink before you take me home,” she teased.

Caitlyn shot her a death glare. The audacity of this woman was truly beyond comprehension.

“You…” Caitlyn muttered. “We … we’ll have to sneak through the window again.”

Vi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a cheeky grin spreading on her face. Caitlyn immediately turned away, feeling a familiar warmth rise to her cheeks. She already knew what Vi was about to say, and she almost wanted to cover her ears.

“Denounced to just a side piece,” Vi said with exaggerated drama. “How unladylike of you, Miss Kiramman.”

Caitlyn whipped back around, her glare narrowing into slits. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest object (a stapler), and hurled it in Vi’s direction.

“Ouch, Cait,” Vi groaned, her voice strained as Caitlyn shifted her weight above her. “You’re heavier than you look!”

Caitlyn gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to stomp on Vi’s head. “Oh, do shut up,” she hissed, focusing instead on the lock she was attempting to pick.

Standing on Vi’s shoulders, Caitlyn was attempting to break into her parents’ old bedroom. It was much more difficult than the last time they did something like this. Back then, her window had always been left conveniently unlocked so she could sneak out.

After her mother’s passing, her father, Tobias, moved out of the chambers they once shared, choosing to retreat to their family’s summer home for a while. Caitlyn didn’t fight his decision. As much as she had wanted him to stay, she wasn’t able to bring herself to ask. It was a mixture of things: the guilt of the person she became in her mother’s absence, and her genuine worry for her father. He had been a shell of himself after the funeral, and Caitlyn couldn’t bear to watch the life drain from him any further.

She locked the bedroom after his departure, boarding up the windows and sealing away the memories. She hadn’t stepped inside since. Not once. Everything had been left exactly as it was on the day Tobias left.

And yet here she was, breaking into her own home like a common thief. All because Vi had nothing to wear and Caitlyn was too proud to rummage through Maddie’s closet. Not like anything in Maddie’s wardrobe would fit Vi anyways. The thought of the bulky fighter squeezed into one of Maddie’s dainty, pastel outfits was kind of hilarious actually.

The only option was her father’s old wardrobe. Tobias had a similarish frame and was tall, Caitlyn was certain his clothes would fit Vi well enough.

“Y’know, if I drop you, it’s not on me. Pretty sure this counts as workplace harassment.”

“Vi,” Caitlyn snapped, “if you drop me, I’ll make certain it’s you who ends up in the hospital.”

Caitlyn grunted as she yanked the final wooden board out of place and toppled inside. She wasn’t going to admit it, but maybe Vi had a point—weight lifting didn’t sound like such a bad idea right now.

“Now shut up, or I’ll drop you instead,” she muttered, leaning out the window with her hand extended to Vi below.

Vi looked up at her with a mischievous smile before zipping her lips with a finger. Large, warm hands gripped hers, and Caitlyn felt a spark of static electricity through her arm. Her grip slipped for just a moment. Vi yelped, trying to keep steady.

“Hey, come on! Stop playing and lift me up!” Vi barked.

Caitlyn tried to lift Vi up with all her strength. But in reality, it was Vi who did most of the work. Vi tripped slightly as she entered, bumping softly into Caitlyn.

“Sorry,” Vi mumbled, stepping back quickly and rubbing the back of her neck like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew.

Caitlyn didn’t respond to Vi. She already let too much emotion show earlier at the precinct, and she wasn’t about to give Vi any further satisfaction. Instead, she took in the state she left her parents’ room in.

It was almost frozen in time, untouched since her father walked out. The same undone sheets on the bed, a pair of slippers spread on the floor as though someone just stepped out of them. Dust had accumulated on almost everything.

Caitlyn’s expression remained neutral, but inside, she felt … nothing. Or perhaps she didn’t even know what to feel. She strode toward her father’s closet, eager to get this over with so they could leave.

The scent of cedar hit her nose, the trace of her father’s cologne—the same cologne he had worn religiously throughout his life. She remembered all the times she tried to convince him to try something different, but he never listened.

Tailored coats, vests, and shirts, all arranged by type and color. But as she scanned the collection, she realized these clothes were far too formal. Vi would never wear something like this. If Caitlyn wasn’t able to convince Vi into wearing the standard enforcer uniform back then, there was absolutely no way she’d get her to dress like she was about to star in Phantom of the Opera.

Caitlyn’s eyes fell on a neatly folded dress shirt tucked away in the corner of the closet shelf, hidden behind a stack of scarves. It was a plain white button up with golden metal clasps instead of traditional buttons.

She recognized it instantly. It was his favorite shirt—the one he always wore around the house. He used to say it was the comfiest thing he owned. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she should even touch it. Caitlyn carefully unfolded the shirt and turned to Vi, holding it up for inspection.

“Here,” Caitlyn said, handing it over.

Vi’s face scrunched in an instant, her nose wrinkling as she took in the design. “Cait,” she replied, “I’m gonna look like a pilgrim in this thing.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes with a theatrical sigh, pulling the shirt away from Vi’s grasp. “Oh, terribly sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Shall we put you in a gown instead? Perhaps something in pink silk?”

Vi’s eyes widened before she burst into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach. Caitlyn raised a finger to her lips, hissing softly, “Will you please keep your voice down? Someone might hear us!”

But Vi was too far gone, laughing so hard she had to wipe at the corner of her eye. “Oh, wow,” she said between chuckles. “You do have a sense of humor, Cait. That was a good one.”

Caitlyn’s expression was utterly deadpan as she stared at Vi. It looked like she completely lost her mind. She reached into the closet and retrieved a pair of light brown dress pants to go with the shirt, hoping this would finally put an end to the laughing.

But as she turned back, Vi began taking off her leather jacket. A small yelp escaped Caitlyn’s lips.

Vi raised a brow as she glanced over her shoulder. “Turn around,” she said with a sly look, “or, y’know, enjoy the show. Your call.”

With a wink, Vi tossed her jacket onto the bed. She stripped down to nothing but bandages and her jeans.

Caitlyn spun around so fast it almost made her dizzy. “Could you please warn me next time?” Caitlyn exclaimed, her voice pitched higher than she intended.

She heard the sound of a zipper being dragged down agonizingly slow, and then the rustle of clothes being dropped to the floor.

This was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet, in the deepest corners of her mind, she couldn’t deny that she imagined a scenario like this before. Not exactly like this, of course, but under far different circumstances.

Finally, Vi’s voice cut through the air. “How do I look?”

Her jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight before her. Despite the slightly loose fitting trousers and the untucked ends of the shirt, Vi had completely filled the outfit. It was as if the clothes weren’t borrowed at all but made for her specifically.

Vi sure did clean up nicely.

With slow steps, Caitlyn inched closer. When she stopped in front of her, she lowered her gaze and smoothed a small wrinkle on Vi’s chest. This wasn’t necessary, but Caitlyn felt compelled to do it anyway.

“All you’re missing is a pair of suspenders,” Caitlyn muttered under her breath. Her father always wore suspenders with this particular shirt. But as she stepped back, the thought of suggesting it to Vi made her pause. “Though I imagine—”

“Hell no!” Vi interrupted with a wave of her hand, forming an exaggerated X with her arms.

“Yes, I thought as much,” Caitlyn said, shaking her head. “You’d probably draw the line at a beret as well, wouldn’t you?”

Vi gave her a crooked grin. “I’m trying to blend in, not audition for Piltover’s Next Top Model.”

Caitlyn sighed, opening a drawer. She pulled out a rolled up tie striped in navy and gold. It was a gift from her mother to her father on their anniversary. Turning, Caitlyn held the tie up for Vi to see.

To her surprise, Vi didn’t make her usual retching noise or crack a joke. Instead, she shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

Caitlyn blinked, taken back by the lack of resistance. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Vi said again, “but don’t go thinking I’m fancy now or anything.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid,” she said dryly. Without warning, she tossed the tie at Vi.

“Can you stop throwing things at me?” Vi exclaimed, fumbling with the tie as she barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor. “Swear, I’m gonna report you!”

“Report me?” Caitlyn echoed, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “To whom, exactly?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re the ruler of all humankind or whatever.”

Caitlyn let out a soft, amused hum, watching as Vi wrestled with the tie. She had looped the tie in ways Caitlyn didn’t think were humanly possible.

“Need a little help, cowboy?”

Vi grumbled under her breath, trying one last time to wrangle the tie around. After a few more seconds of struggle, she threw her hands into the air. “Fine. I give up.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. The knot Vi managed to tie was so complex that even a seasoned girl scout like herself couldn't replicate it. “What is this?”

“Don’t start,” Vi muttered, looking anywhere but at Caitlyn.

Taking the hint, Caitlyn moved towards her neck. Her fingers brushed against Vi’s collar as she began working the knot loose. The silence between them felt slightly strange, Caitlyn focused on the task to avoid overthinking it.

“Honestly, Vi,” Caitlyn said after a moment, her tone half scolding but contained the faintest trace of teasing. “It’s a tie, not a lasso. You’ve practically welded this thing shut.”

Caitlyn reached for Vi’s collar, lifting it to wrap the fresh tie around her neck. It was a simple task, one she’d done many times before.

“You’ve always been so good at this, darling.”

The words stopped her cold. Slowly, she raised her head to meet the voice.

It wasn’t Vi’s face staring back at her. It was a pair of hazel eyes with faint wrinkles, and a thick salt-and-blueberry beard. The unmistakable look of her father, Tobias Kiramman.

Caitlyn felt her chest tighten, her limbs turning heavy as if Medusa had frozen her in stone.

A pair of feminine, gloved hands, brushed over her own. They continued the motion she started, looping one end beneath the other. Caitlyn didn’t need to look up to recognize those hands. She knew that touch like the back of her own, the softness of the gloves, the faint scent of her mother’s favorite lavender lotion.

But she was too afraid to meet her mother’s gaze.

This was a core memory of her childhood. It was an ordinary evening, and her family had prepared to go out for dinner. Her father stood before the mirror, struggling with his tie as usual.

Her mother, Cassandra, stood behind him, her hands on her hips as she chastised him once again for forgetting the Windsor knot she taught him a hundred times. Her tone was tough, but it was a facade—Caitlyn knew her mother could never stay upset with him for more than a minute or two. Sure enough, Caitlyn heard her laugh as she gently brushed his hands aside.

Caitlyn stood quietly in the doorway of their bedroom, watching the scene unfold. Tobias grinned, his eyes filled with affection as he let her finish.

Cassandra was the first to notice Caitlyn’s presence. “Well, don’t just stand there, honey,” she said. “Come and watch. One day, you might have to help someone who’s hopeless with these things, just like your father.”

She watched as her mother’s fingers slipped the tie through the knot. Cassandra’s movements were calculated, her hands moving like they'd done this a thousand times—which, Caitlyn realized now, they probably had.

Cassandra turned to Caitlyn, scooping her up into her arms and settling at the same height as her father. Tobias smiled, leaning his head close to hers so that his beard tickled her cheek.

“Maybe you’ll be better at this than your old man,” he said. “Go on, sweetheart. Tug there.”

Cassandra guided Caitlyn’s small hands to the knot. “Tighten it gently, darling. Just a little push upwards.”

Caitlyn had always been a clever child. However, she pushed upwards with a bit too much enthusiasm, tugging more than she intended.

Tobias flinched slightly. “Too tight, Caitlyn,” he said, though his voice was still warm.

The room filled with their laughter. Caitlyn joined in nervously, but her parents’ smiles reassured her that it was okay.

But then, the sound of laughter began to fade. Caitlyn could still see his mouth moving, hear him saying something, but the words were muffled like she was hearing through a glass wall.

“Too tight...” His words repeated, distant now.

Her surrounding shifted. The light of the bedroom dimmed, and the warmth of her mother’s arms faded from her memory.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Caitlyn gasped, sounding like she just emerged from a body of water.

Tobias was gone.

And all she could see was red.

Vi was staring at her, her brows furrowed—not in anger, but in concern. Her free hand rested on the knot around her neck, which Caitlyn had unintentionally tightened too much.

“I ... I’m sorry...” Caitlyn murmured, her voice trembling as she carefully loosened the knot.

Vi exhaled, releasing a huff of air she was holding in. Caitlyn stepped back immediately, pulling her hands away as if it burnt her.

She buried her face in her palms, the overwhelming weight of what just happened crashed down on her.

The visions.

They had been happening more and more. She grew accustomed to the ones involving Vi or Jinx, but this … this was something else entirely.

It was the first time she had seen her parents so vividly. Or, more accurately, almost seen her mother. She wasn't able to look at Cassandra.

Two hands rested on both sides of her shoulders.

She flinched violently, pulling away with a sudden jolt. "No. Don’t touch me."

Please, Mother. I don’t deserve your comfort. Father, I ... I failed you both...

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice called out. “It’s okay. Cait, it’s me. Just me.”

Vi held her in place, anchored her from crumbling to the floor—metaphorically and physically.

Caitlyn remembered this same comfort, after her mother’s passing. Vi had been there then too, when Caitlyn’s world felt like it was falling apart. For a moment, Caitlyn considered letting herself lean into that strength again.

A part of her wanted to.

She wanted to throw herself at Vi, to fall apart in her arms and let go of everything she had been holding in. She wanted to cry, to yell.

But she couldn’t.

It wasn’t right. Not anymore.

Vi wasn’t the same person she was back then, and neither was Caitlyn. The years had stretched the distance between them. Vi was a stranger now—a stranger standing before her in her father’s clothing, wearing her mother’s tie. A stranger who had once felt the pressure of her kiss.

Her hand drifted downward until her fingers wrapped the Kiramman key that hung from the chain around her neck.

Chapter Text

Vi gulped, the dagger in her hand remained stuck mid strike. The mention of the Undercity meant one of two things. Either Caitlyn knew of the gassing, or she didn’t. One thing was clear though, Caitlyn just declared that the people of Zaun had a right to fresh air.

She stood in the dressing room, wearing Tobias’ clothes, the faint scent of cedar lingering on her sleeves. Caitlyn had her back to Vi, rehearsing her lines. She cleared the room minutes ago, insisting to the workers that she needed a moment alone. Vi had been watching her closely all day and it didn’t take a mind reader to see that Caitlyn wasn’t in the right headspace.

Vi hated to admit it, even to herself, but she had gotten attached. It was a weakness, plain and simple. But this was the only chance she had. She had to finish her mission now.

It would’ve been the perfect plan too.

Assassinate the Commander on Progress Day while she was all alone and distracted. Caitlyn was at the center of attention today, every eye in Piltover focused on her. And with the long list of enemies Caitlyn Kiramman had, it would be impossible to pinpoint who got to her first.

Vi wasn’t a monster, no matter what these Piltovens whispered behind her back. She would have made Caitlyn’s death quick. And well, mostly painless.

She would have slipped into the crowd after, awaiting Caitlyn’s speech. The realization of her absence would cause panic, and eventually, someone would find her lifeless body in this very dressing room.

Vi would no longer have any reason to linger in Piltover after the Commander’s death. She’d disappear back into the shadows of Zaun, her ties to the topside severed for good.

Damn it, Caitlyn.

Lost in thought, Vi shifted her weight slightly. The sound was barely audible, but it was enough. Caitlyn froze after hearing the noise. “I said nobody enters!”

Vi slipped the dagger back up her sleeve in one fluid motion. She cleared her throat, attempting to hide her shaky voice. “Sorry. They told me to let you know, um, thirty minutes ‘til you’re on.”

Caitlyn softened the moment her eyes landed on Vi. Her shoulders sagged slightly as she let out a sigh of exhaustion, tossing her head back. “That’s fine,” she said, her voice quieter. “I can go through it one more time before heading on.”

Vi didn’t reply. What could she say? She was already balls deep in a sticky situation, and not the fun kind. If Caitlyn caught so much as a glimpse of the blade, it wouldn’t just be the end of her plan. By tomorrow, it would be off with her head.

Instead, Vi nodded in acknowledgment, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll leave it to you, then,” she hummed.

“Wait...”

Vi looked up at Caitlyn, waiting for her next words. “I’ll see you there, right?” she asked softly, her blue eyes searching Vi’s face for an answer.

Technically, Vi never said she’d be at the speech. Progress Day festivities were something else though, she could definitely use a drink (or five) at one of those snooty parties later tonight. Piltover’s elite always drank the good stuff, and Vi needed to get her grubby hands on that.

But going to Caitlyn’s speech? That was a terrible idea. Vi’s super legit detective instincts told her so. After her failed execution attempt, her plan was to avoid Caitlyn entirely for the rest of the day. She needed time and space to figure out what to do next.

“Uh...” Vi hesitated, scratching the back of her neck as she fumbled for an excuse. “I dunno, Cait—”

Caitlyn’s hand reached out, her fingers wrapping around Vi’s. “I’ll forget what I practiced if you’re not there,” she interrupted, pleading.

Her hand was so close to Vi’s wrist, the very wrist that concealed the dagger. If Caitlyn’s fingers shifted just an inch to the right...

Vi was going to say no. Seriously, she was. She had every intention of giving Caitlyn some excuse to avoid the speech entirely. But then Caitlyn turned those damn misty eyes on her.

And so it seemed Vi forgot to prepare herself for the deadliest weapon in all of Piltover: Caitlyn’s big, shiny pair of mongoose eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Fine,” Vi groaned, dragging the word out like a reluctant teenager forced to do chores. “But only 'cuz I might get to see you trip on your cape...”

Vi caught Caitlyn’s eyes trailing downward from her gaze to her chest. Her body betrayed her as a rush of heat crept up her neck and bloomed across her face. “Hey,” Vi snapped. “My eyes are up here!”

Caitlyn shook her head a little, clearing her throat softly before letting out a low chuckle. “Your tie,” she said, her voice light but teasing. “It’s all over the place again.”

Vi glanced down at herself and, sure enough, the tie Caitlyn had meticulously tied earlier had somehow gone rogue, one side hanging slightly longer than the other.

“Honestly,” Caitlyn continued, stepping closer with an exasperated shake of her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she muttered. “Wouldn’t wanna embarrass you in front of your fancy Piltover crowd.”

Caitlyn smirked, her confidence creeping back as she tilted her head slightly. “Oh, Vi,” she said dryly, “you manage to do that just by existing.”

She moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring it sat perfectly in the middle of Vi’s dress shirt. There was a brief pause as Caitlyn’s hand stopped. It looked as though she was hesitating, debating something silently.

Reaching into the pocket of her pants, Caitlyn pulled out a small, golden object—a rectangular clip.

“Here,” Caitlyn said. She stepped closer, inching her hand toward Vi’s tie again. “To hold it down in place.”

Vi watched as Caitlyn attached the clip to the tie. As she adjusted it, Vi caught a glimpse of the intricate carvings on the surface: C.K.

She arched her brow. “This yours?”

A soft hum escaped Caitlyn’s lips. “It was a gift,” she said simply. “I want you to have it.”

“Have it?” she echoed, a small scoff escaping her as she glanced down at the shiny new addition to her outfit. “You talk like I dress like the Monopoly Man everyday.”

A soft giggle escaped Caitlyn’s lips, the sound almost melodic to Vi’s ears. Vi couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her own lips in response.

Caitlyn had on a striking black cape. The Kiramman family crest was embedded on the back in gold. How does she even breathe in all those layers? The frilled collar around Caitlyn’s neck looked stiff, and the red choker she wore wasn’t doing her any favors.

It suited her, Vi supposed. After all, she was about to address the entirety of Piltover.

But there was something disarming about seeing the big bad vampire commander giggle at something Vi said. Just for a moment, her lips curved into a genuine smile, her sharpshooter eyes softening into crescent moons.

This was who she remembered. The person from long ago, before titles and politics had hardened her into the image she carried now.

She couldn’t help herself. Vi leaned in slightly, almost drawn to her by instinct. She wasn’t even sure what she intended to do—say something? Close the distance? Kiss her? It didn’t matter. For a split second, the world seemed to slow, leaving only the two of them.

“There you are! Thought they already told you five minutes,” Maddie panted, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re late.”

The ginger immediately darted between Caitlyn and Vi. A flicker of discomfort crossing her features at the sight of them together alone.

Caitlyn noticed it too. She took a hurried step back from Vi, clutching her script like it was a shield. “Five?” Caitlyn blurted, her tone high and sharp. “They said thirty!”

She ran her fingers through her thick blue locks, trying to fluff them up in a panic. “This is ridiculous. Ridiculous!”

Maddie was clearly unimpressed. “What? Who told you thirty?”

Caitlyn turned to her vanity, rifling through the clutter of makeup and accessories. “Uh, someone ... came in earlier and said thirty...” She gestured vaguely with one hand before tossing a glance at Vi. “Vi. I mean... Forget it!”

Vi felt the blood drain from her face, she had been caught red-handed.

Surprisingly, Caitlyn seemed to brush the situation aside, much to Vi’s relief. She resembled a madwoman as she scrambled through her dressing room. Caitlyn was always so precise, a woman who lived by her schedules and stuck to her deadlines like the gospel. This little disruption had clearly thrown her completely off her game.

Vi stood awkwardly in the middle of it all, caught between Caitlyn’s frenzy and the pointed glare Maddie was sending her way. She could practically feel Maddie trying to burn a hole straight through her skull.

But Vi wasn’t about to let the red-haired gnome get the better of her. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. If she was going to pull off this mistake, she’d need to look confident doing it.

Maddie, of course, was dressed like someone who practically oozed money from her pores. Her long, red silk dress clung to her figure, showing off curves that Vi didn’t even realize she had (no offence).

And yet, for the first time in Piltover, Vi didn’t feel entirely out of place. Sure, she wasn’t dripping in gold or wearing some overpriced designer shit, but Tobias’ old clothes gave her just enough polish to fit in—barely.

Nobody could look down on her right now. Not that it mattered though. If it came down to it, Vi would have walked in here naked if it meant proving a point to these entitled asswipes.

Cross that thought—one person was looking down on her.

To Maddie, Vi wasn’t just overstaying her welcome in Piltover, she was never welcome in the first place.

“Well, this is cozy,” Vi muttered under her breath. “You gonna keep staring, or is this where you ask me for a dance?”

Maddie’s lips twitched and Vi sighed inwardly. She wasn’t going to stick around long enough for the ginger to let whatever crazy remark she was forming slip out. Things were already tense enough in the room, and Caitlyn was too preoccupied to even notice the silent war being waged between her girlfriend and her ... whatever Vi was.

Best to get out now, before things turned sour.

Without sparing Maddie a glance, Vi reached out and patted Caitlyn lightly on the arm. It was her way of saying goodbye—or maybe just see you later, without having to put it into words. Caitlyn stopped, glancing up in surprise, but Vi didn’t wait for a response.

Vi leaned against a sturdy wooden pole, scanning the chaos around her. The energy of Progress Day was almost overwhelming. There were tents scattered across the square with various face painting stations and candy vendors. Vi could hear the mix of laughter and the local band playing all the way across the central stage.

How could these people celebrate so carelessly, so happily, with an ongoing war right beneath their feet?

Children darted between the stalls, playing without a care in the world. Not once did they glance over their shoulders or wonder what they’d have for dinner later. In Zaun, the only time children ran was to escape. Whether it was from the enforcers, the barons, or the dangers of the Undercity itself, there was always something to fear.

Vi wasn’t sure if Caitlyn could see her from this far off to the side, but it was probably for the best if she didn’t.

As the crowd pressed closer to the stage, Vi couldn’t help but catch snippets of the gossip.

“Late? Hah, what a great leader she is…”

“She’s not even prepared for Progress Day. What a commander, huh?”

Vi’s fingers twitched as she listened. She heard of the faction in Piltover that disapproved of Caitlyn’s tactics. Still, the harshness of their words caught Vi off guard. A strange part of her wanted to march over and tell them off, reminding them that waiting a few extra minutes wasn’t going to kill them.

But Vi caught herself.

Why do I even care? she thought, forcing her hands to relax.

She told herself it wasn’t personal. She had just seen how hard Caitlyn was working, rehearsing that speech until it was practically ingrained into her brain. Maybe it was admiration for the effort Caitlyn put into her work. Or maybe it was something more selfish—curiosity about how these prissy elites would react when the Undercity was mentioned in her speech.

Yeah, that had to be it.

It definitely wasn’t because she cared about Caitlyn.

After all, she was just in Caitlyn’s rehearsal room not too long ago trying to figure out how to kill her. How could she care about someone she’d just been plotting to get rid of?

From the corner of her eye, Vi caught sight of a familiar figure approaching.

Briar Whitlock was draped head to toe in pure white, her gown resembling a dove. It was a dress that was simple in theory, but everything about her aura made it clear that Briar was no ordinary Piltie. She was nobility through and through.

Vi couldn’t help but compare her now to the Briar she grew accustomed to in the Whitlock mansion. After a few nights spent there, she had seen the family in a more relaxed state.

She remembered one morning in particular, catching Briar in the dining room with her hair looking like a bird’s nest. Being the instigator she was, Vi made a funny comment which resulted in a piece of bread thrown directly at her head.

Why does everyone in Piltover throw things? Vi thought to herself, amused by the memory.

But today, Briar was back to her untouchable self. Thin strips of her hair had been braided around the crown of her head. The rest of it flowed down her back like a waterfall, probably thanks to a team of maids armed with sprays and brushes.

When Vi first met her, she thought Briar looked like an elf. Now, Briar looked even more otherworldly. She looked like a fairy, drifting just slightly out of reach of everyone around her.

“First lady Whitlock,” Vi drawled. She extended her hand dramatically like a prince. “So, you’ve decided to bless us common folk with your presence.”

Briar rolled her eyes, swatting Vi’s hand away. “The first lady is my mother,” she corrected. “I’m just Lady Briar, thank you very much.”

Vi placed both hands in the air in a mock gesture of surrender. “Well, excuse me, your Ladyship.” She grinned. “Sorry, haven’t had the time to take Etiquette 101 yet.”

“Shall I ask Father to enroll you, then?” her brow arched teasingly. “You could certainly use the lessons.”

“Y’know,” Vi said, leaning back against the pole as she gestured toward Briar’s gown, “you look kinda nice when you’re not brooding all the time.”

She lifted the hem of her dress as she stepped over the dirt, coming to stand beside Vi. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, rolling her eyes again as if to undermine the compliment, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Here to study faces? Plenty of ugly ones to choose from.”

Briar snorted softly, shaking her head. “Nope,” she replied. “Just getting away from my parents.”

Vi hummed in acknowledgment. She looked toward the far side of the square, where Briar’s parents were engaged in conversation with another clearly wealthy family. It seemed all the Whitlocks were hard to miss, their attire and manners making them stand out even in a crowd of Piltover’s elite.

“They always like that?” Vi asked casually, gesturing toward the Whitlocks with a tilt of her head.

“Always,” she said. “Every conversation, every handshake—it’s all calculated. Every little thing is about the next deal, the next move, the next ... opportunity.” She hesitated, glancing at Vi. “It gets exhausting.”

Vi nodded. “Guess they keep you in line too, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She looked down at the dirt beneath her perfectly polished shoes. “Sometimes, I just want to ... I don’t know. Step outside of it all. Be something other than a Whitlock.”

The murmurs of the crowd came to a halt after Briar’s comment. Vi’s attention snapped to the stage as the lights flickered on. Caitlyn emerged fashionably late as expected, but she wasn’t alone.

On one side, Maddie clung to her like a handbag. On Caitlyn’s other side was a figure Vi didn’t recognize—a much taller, muscular woman clad in red armor.

Vi scoffed softly under her breath. Is red the only color these people know?

But as Caitlyn approached the microphone at the center of the stage, Vi realized she wasn’t breathing. She quickly gulped down the ball of saliva in her throat, the sound faint but noticeable enough for Briar to glance sideways at her.

The commander tapped the microphone once, making it hiss in feedback. To the untrained eye, Caitlyn appeared as she always did. Her expression was cool, posture perfect, and every detail of her appearance crafted for the occasion.

But Vi could see through it.

She spent enough time around Caitlyn to know when she was nervous, even when she didn’t let it show. Vi watched as Caitlyn scanned the crowd. She was making it clear that she was looking for someone. Looking for me, Vi realized.

When Caitlyn couldn’t find her, a flicker of disappointment washed over her face, quickly masked, but not fast enough for Vi to miss. When the speech began, it wasn’t anything Vi hadn’t heard before, she already caught the bulk of it during Caitlyn’s rehearsal. She waited for the inevitable moment when everything would shift.

“The people of the Undercity deserve to breathe.”

Vi caught the stunned expressions of Caitlyn’s companions. Maddie’s jaw tightened and the taller woman in red armor looked equally taken aback. Vi bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing outright. Their faces alone almost made the whole day worth it.

The crowd, however, didn’t share her amusement.

People turned to each other in disbelief, confusion, and even anger. Even Briar let out a small gasp beside Vi. No one in the crowd knew how to react. Should they clap? Should they boo? Piltover had always been at odds with Zaun, its citizens believed that the Undercity was a lawless cesspool. Many knew that Piltover itself had been actively gassing Zaun, a method of keeping the lower city under control.

And now, here was the mighty Commander, standing on the main stage of Progress Day, proclaiming that the people of Zaun deserved fresh air.

Slowly, hesitantly, the crowd began to applaud. Caitlyn didn’t linger to bask in the reaction. She walked off the stage as though nothing about her statement had been remotely controversial. Her nonchalance only seemed to deepen the confusion of her entourage, who exchanged suspicious glances but followed her without protest.

Vi snickered. The whole scene was ridiculous, and yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Hell of a show,” she muttered. “Time to drink or what?”

“After that...” Briar hesitated. “Um, yeah. But it’s not over yet, unfortunately.”

Vi groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “'Course it isn’t.”

Apparently Progress Day didn’t end until the spokesperson raised their family’s flag at their estate, signaling the official close of the festivities.

How pretentious could these people get?

Only the wealthy were allowed on the council, and now she understood why. They were expected to host these grand over the top parties at their mansions, all to prove how worthy they were of their position.

Vi couldn’t help but scoff at the thought. If she had been the one giving the speech, she would’ve loved to invite these brats to her cardboard box in the Undercity. Maybe even serve them some authentic Zaunite cuisine—Jericho’s finest, just for the experience.

“Imagine it,” Vi said out loud. “A grand afterparty in my premium Undercity box suite. Only the finest for Piltover’s elite.”

Briar let out a soft laugh. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Vi took it as her cue to leave as well. But just as she turned to go, she turned to Briar, who hadn’t seemed to move a muscle.

“Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, watching someone joust for your hand in marriage or something?”

Briar turned to her with a look of utter incredulity. “This isn’t the middle ages, knucklehead,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

But her expression faltered slightly as looked again to where her family was standing moments ago. Vi caught the Whitlocks in the distance, now angled in their direction.

“Oh, great,” Vi muttered under her breath. Their expressions were less polite observation and more what the hell are you two doing?

Vi, of course, couldn’t resist making things worse. She lifted a hand and waved exaggeratedly, plastering the stupidest grin she could muster across her face.

“Knock it off,” Briar hissed.

Vi ignored her, adding a cheerful, over the top “Heya!” for good measure.

The reaction was immediate. The other family who was with them made strange expressions at Vi's antics. Even the Whitlocks exchanged a glance that clearly said why must you embarrass us like this?

Briar sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, before grabbing Vi’s wrist. “Come on.”

“Hey, what’s the rush?” Vi quipped, though she let herself be pulled along without protest.

“The rush,” Briar said through gritted teeth, “is that you’ve officially turned this into an incident, and I am not sticking around to explain it to my parents!”

Vi chuckled. “Aw, c'mon. They love me.”

Briar gave her a look, arching one perfectly shaped brow. “They tolerate you,” she corrected.

Briar dragged Vi to the central square. They walked side by side in silence, both using each other as an excuse to avoid their respective duties.

As they strolled, Vi picked up on a distinct sound: a loud thwack, followed by a groan that sounded a little too much like a dying goat.

“What the hell was that?”

Vi spotted the source of the commotion, a punching bag-like contraption set up like a carnival game. The machine measured the strength of each punch and displayed a score on the panel at the top.

The man currently attempting it wasn’t doing well. His punch barely moved the bag, and the machine’s score popped up with an unimpressive number. Another groan escaped him, more goaty than the last.

“This is rigged!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air as the crowd snickered around him.

Vi recognized this type of setup from her days training in Zaun. Back then, they didn’t have shiny machines with flashing numbers. They had sandbags and holes. But the principle was the same, and seeing this fancy Piltover version sparked something competitive in her.

She nudged people aside with a quick ’scuse me. People stood there intrigued as Vi tightened the bandages on her knuckles, inhaling deeply.

Smack!

Her fist collided with the bag so hard it vibrated through the machine.

The crowd gasped. All eyes were glued to the LED board as the numbers climbed so quickly that most didn’t even have time to process them. The machine let out a ding, followed by a cheerful noise, meaning not just a win, but a new high score.

Vi smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she stepped back. The worker managing the game trudged forward, handing her the prize begrudgingly—a large stuffed bear.

Vi took it, but her nose wrinkled in distaste. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

The crowd erupted into cheers and chatter. Sure, she was overstimulated by the noise and the attention, but deep down she couldn’t deny she liked it.

Let them gawk, she thought. If they’re going to stare at me like I’m some zoo animal anyways, they might as well worship me too.

Her satisfaction lowered when she caught sight of someone in her peripheral view. A man stood off to the side, taller than the average Piltoven. And he was staring directly at her.

Vi’s instincts kicked in immediately. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at her.

Probably just another sore loser.

The crowd around Vi had grown considerably. She felt larger than life, like some kind of mythical figure came to Piltover to show its prim and proper citizens what real strength looked like.

Jesus in Piltover. Or Achilles. Yeah, definitely Achilles.

It wasn’t hard to guess why she was such a spectacle. Piltover wasn’t exactly crawling with people who had the kind of raw power she did.

Vi noticed Briar weaving her way through the crowd. “Wow, that was splendid, Vi!” she exclaimed.

“What can I say?” she replied, her tone dripping with mock modesty. “I aim to please.”

She glanced down at the stuffed bear still clutched in her hand. “Here,” Vi said. “You could use some company in that cramped up room of yours.”

Briar blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a laugh. “Oh, really?” she said, taking the bear. “And here I thought you grew attached to it.”

Vi shrugged, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Nah. Too much responsibility. All yours, Lady Briar.”

From their moment, she felt the weight of all those eyes, admiring, curious, and judging all at once. As if Vi’s presence in itself wasn’t unusual enough, her relationship with the young Whitlock heir was certainly a spectacle to rumor about.

However, the man moved quickly, bobbing and weaving through the sea of people.

Really? A tall shady guy carrying a briefcase stands out like slenderman, and I’m losing him?

But he disappeared, slipping behind an even taller, slightly stooped elderly Piltie who shuffled obliviously through the crowd.

Move, old man!

Vi silently prayed for the man’s turtle ass shuffle to finally move him out of her line of sight. “Come on, Grandpa, just a little to the left...”

Finally, the elderly Piltie shifted out of frame. Vi’s eyes darted forward, ready to lock onto her target again.

Instead, she was met with something worse.

A pair of large, icy blue eyes glared back at her, radiating irritation so intense it was almost unnerving. Those eyes belonged to no one else but her Commander. And her gaze was sharp, precise, and very pissed off.

She was probably mad about a dozen things. For not making herself seen at the speech. For causing a scene at the square. For embarrassing her with the ridiculous strength demonstration. And, knowing Caitlyn, maybe even for something as small as not clipping her tie holder at precisely 180 degrees.

Of course she noticed me, Vi thought with a grimace. She’s probably been waiting to chew me out all day.

The man didn’t matter anymore. He faded into the background, his briefcase and weird movements forgotten in an instant. All that occupied Vi’s mind now was Caitlyn.

It wasn’t just the glare, though that alone was enough to knock the wind out of her. Everyone knew Caitlyn was a force to be reckoned with, but there was an unspoken rule that Vi was the only one who could handle her when she got like this.

Vi finally caught the flash of orange next to Caitlyn. The socialite was latched onto Caitlyn’s arm, her fingers wrapped tightly around it. She wasn’t just holding Caitlyn’s arm—no, this wasn’t casual affection.

Caitlyn didn’t give Maddie any piece of mind. Although her glare at Vi barely lasted half a second before her piercing blue eyes darted somewhere else entirely.

Vi blinked slowly, a strange wave of disappointment washing over her. Had she read the situation wrong? She was so sure that Caitlyn’s fury was aimed directly at her.

She traced the path of Caitlyn’s gaze, moving through the dispersing crowd until it landed—

Vi’s stomach sank as she realized where Caitlyn was looking. Or rather, who Caitlyn was looking at.

The youngest Whitlock elf stood nearby, still holding the stuffed bear Vi gave her, oblivious to the daggers Caitlyn’s eyes were throwing her way.

Oh dear.

Chapter Text

“Gods, this one’s distasteful!”

Briar grimaced, holding the glass between her fingers like the drink somehow managed to personally offend her. Her elvish features scrunched up in contempt.

Next to her, Vi downed her own cup in one go. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it didn’t taste much different than the last drink Briar shoved in her hand moments ago.

“Better than the slop they got in Zaun, that’s for sure,” she remarked, already going for another swing.

Briar shot her a look of pure surprise. “You mean to tell me this isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever had?”

“You wouldn’t last a day drinking what we have down there. Half the time, you don’t even know what’s in it.”

They stood idly at the drink station along the sideline of the Kiramman ballroom. The area was massive, with high ceilings and intricate gold trims. Vi hadn’t been to this part of the estate before—it was so grand that she almost couldn’t believe it existed.

Briar shoved her glass toward Vi dramatically. “Ugh, finish it for me!”

Vi looked down at the cup of wine now pressed against her arm. “Just throw it away!”

Briar gasped, turning to fully face Vi as if she just suggested burning down the Kiramman estate. “A lady does not throw away!” she huffed. “I would be scrutinized by the entire commune if I did so.”

Vi let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “Right, to the stocks you go,” she teased.

She took the glass from Briar’s hand, seeing the faint lipstick print left on the rim. A sinister grin spread across her face as an idea popped into her head. Without warning, she made a move as if she was about to pour the drink directly onto Briar.

“Eek! Stop it, you devil!” Briar squeaked, recoiling instantly.

Vi barked out a laugh, watching Briar’s ladylike posture crumble in an instant. Her arms shot out to grab Vi’s wrist in an attempt to prevent herself from getting drenched. For a second, they were caught in a playful tug of war, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge. Then, they both burst into laughter.

They must have looked ridiculous. Briar, still giggling, finally let go of Vi’s wrist, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

Vi feigned innocence. “Hey, I was just helping you get rid of it.”

Vi lowered the cup, feeling quite satisfied with herself, while Briar smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. Of course, she had changed into a brand new gown because god forbid a Whitlock be seen wearing the same thing for more than a few hours.

Actually, now that Vi was looking, everyone seemed to have changed out of their morning attire. Vi, of course, hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t have anything else to change into, so she remained in the same dress shirt and slacks she’d been wearing all day.

The Kiramman estate was as lively as ever, full of posh asswipes and mountains of food names Vi couldn’t even pronounce.

For the past few hours, she had been avoiding Caitlyn.

Not hiding, exactly. That would imply guilt, and Vi wasn’t about to admit to any of that. But she was careful to keep out of Caitlyn’s line of sight, making sure she didn’t accidentally run into her. The last thing she needed was to make things more awkward than they already were.

“These people are so faking their own happiness and relationships,” Briar mused out of the blue.

Vi raised a brow, scanning the room. She wasn’t an anthropologist or whatever the fancy word was, but she didn’t need to be to see that Briar had a point. She scoffed. “You really just noticing that now?”

“I suppose not…” Briar admitted slowly.

Vi wasn’t fully paying attention anymore. The energy in the room was draining and she kind of just wanted to go home. But then Briar’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Hey, the Commander’s here!”

The lady of the house had arrived.

And she was headed straight for Vi.

Her shoulders tensed as she turned toward Briar, grasping for an escape route like a rat caught in a trap.

“Uh, didn’t you say you had to go somewhere?” she blurted. “Let’s go. Now. I—uh, kinda want more food. Or the bathroom! Yeah, is the bathroom that way?”

She pointed in a completely random direction, her movements frantic. Briar frowned in confusion. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Vi didn’t have time to stammer out another excuse before she realized it was too late. And, because Vi’s luck was just that terrible, Maddie was there as well.

Oh my god, kill me now, Vi muttered under her breath. She braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

Dressed in a stunning blue and gold officer’s uniform, Caitlyn’s presence was striking. The cape she wore earlier was gone, and honestly she looked like a prince. If someone were to judge based on the outfit alone, they’d probably call her handsome. But Caitlyn wasn’t just handsome, there was a delicate beauty to her. She had the face of a princess and the aura of a prince—the perfect Kiramman heir.

“Lady Whitlock,” Caitlyn greeted, extending a hand toward Briar. “Pleasure seeing you here.”

Caitlyn hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction, her focus solely on Briar. Vi wasn’t even exactly sure why Caitlyn was acting like this, but for some reason, she felt like she had done something wrong. Like a kid waiting to be scolded by their mother.

Briar, of course, remained completely unfazed. She accepted Caitlyn’s handshake with poise and politeness. “The pleasure is all mine, Commander,” she replied. “Beautiful home you have here.”

“Ah, yes. If only you had attended the previous gatherings—”

“Oh, if only,” an unwelcome voice cut in.

Vi’s jaw immediately tensed. For fuck’s sake.

Maddie, standing beside Caitlyn like an overeager lapdog, butted herself into a conversation that didn’t involve her. Again.

Vi fought the urge to roll her eyes so hard they might fall out of her skull. How Caitlyn managed to withstand this irritating woman on a daily basis was beyond her.

“It’s such a shame you haven’t been able to attend previous Kiramman functions,” she continued. “We’ve all greatly missed your presence.”

Briar didn’t so much as flinch. “I had been rather unwell since my brother’s … disappearance,” she said, her voice even. “But I am sure Mother and Father have sent their regards in my honor.”

Maddie stiffened slightly, just enough for Vi to catch it. Ah, she thought, biting back a smirk. So she does have a line she can’t cross without consequences. Maddie had misstepped, and even she knew it. Silence filled the air, making things slightly awkward.

The ginger quickly scrambled to fill the void. “Oh, of course. My deepest sympathies, Lady Whitlock,” she spoke with false sincerity. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

Vi resisted the overwhelming urge to mutter, You can’t? Try harder.

“Anyways, honey, don’t you think Vi and Briar would make a lovely couple?”

Vi inhaled at the wrong moment and choked on her saliva. She coughed violently as Briar began gently patting her back like she was some infant.

“Though I’m not sure your parents would approve,” she added. “You know, since she’s from the—”

“Enough.”

Caitlyn’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. She turned to lock her gaze onto Maddie. “I don’t think this conversation is appropriate right now.”

Maddie was caught off guard for only a second before recovering. She let out a tipsy giggle and clung to Caitlyn’s arm, giving it an affectionate slap. “Oh, come on, babe,” she whined. “Briar doesn’t seem to mind, do you?”

Vi shifted uncomfortably, looking toward Briar, who had suddenly gone very quiet.

To make it worse, the music changed. Gone was the upbeat melody that kept the ballroom lively. A slow, classical tune started playing in its place.

Maddie’s face lit up like a lantern. “It’s time!” she exclaimed, practically yanking Caitlyn toward the dance floor.

Vi watched Caitlyn, waiting for a reaction, but there was nothing. No excitement, no protest. She simply allowed herself to be pulled, moving like a doll being placed where she was expected to be.

She turned her attention back to the rest of the room, noticing how duos were flocking into place. Her confusion must have been painfully obvious, because next to her, Briar snorted.

“It’s a Piltover tradition.”

“And how the hell do you all know it?”

“We learn it.”

Vi groaned. “Oh, right. Lemme guess, Etiquette 101?”

“Yes, exactly.” Briar placed her empty glass down on the nearest surface before turning back to Vi, a sinister grin widening. “Let’s go!”

Vi barely had time to react before Briar grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the floor. “Nope. No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” she sang. “Unless you’re scared?”

A majority of the guests circled the floor in perfect harmony, the entire scene looking like something out of a fairytale movie. Vi felt out of place just looking at it. Firstly, she didn’t know how. Second, she wasn’t a Piltoven, and she certainly wasn’t about to willingly throw herself into its traditions like she belonged here.

Yet, the way Caitlyn moved with that pretentious, smug, insufferable woman made Vi tick inside.

She sighed, loud enough for Briar to hear. Fine.

With a defeated look, she reached out, her fingers closing around Briar’s offered hand.

Just one dance. That’s it.

She had been thrown into a lot of fights in her life. Taken hits from people twice her size, got into brawls that left her bloody and bruised. But something about this made her feel like she was walking into the real lion’s den.

It was whatever. Vi had seen her mother dance before, fragments of memories in the back of her mind. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance. In fact, quite the opposite. Not many people knew, but she actually found it fun—not this type of dancing, but the kind that felt natural. The kind that happened at Loris’ bar, where the music was loud, the movements were wild, and no one gave a damn about form.

Back then, she had seen visions of Caitlyn. Now, Caitlyn was standing just a few feet away. And Vi had to pretend like it didn’t bother her.

Briar gave Vi a gentle, reassuring smile. She raised her palm up almost like she was giving a high five.

“Just follow me,” she murmured, voice low enough that only Vi could hear. “And then spin.”

Vi exhaled through her nose, nodding slightly. Alright. Just copy her moves. No big deal. She lifted her hand to match Briar’s, mirroring her motion. Their palms hovered close but never touched.

Vi risked a glance around. Everyone else was doing the same thing.

Of course, that wasn’t really why Vi looked away.

Her eyes swept the ballroom, but—nothing. The blue haired commander was nowhere in sight.

Before she could dwell on it, Briar took the lead, initiating a clockwise spin. Vi followed without thinking.

And then, Briar was gone.

Vi barely had time to process it before she found herself standing in front of someone else.

Good news: she found Caitlyn. Bad news: Caitlyn was now dancing with her.

Vi stiffened, her body locking up for a moment. She understood now that this dance forced everyone to rotate partners simultaneously. Vi knew she needed to move, but her brain was still catching up to the fact that she was now holding Caitlyn Kiramman.

A sharp pinch landed on her bicep. “Ouch!” Vi hissed. Her feet finally stumbled back into motion. “The hell was that for?”

Caitlyn’s expression remained perfectly neutral, as if she hadn’t just assaulted her mid dance. “Should I have let you make a fool out of both of us instead?”

“And embarrass you? I promised I wouldn’t earlier.”

Her tone was teasing, but Caitlyn didn’t waver. After a few beats, Vi fully settled into the movements. The first dance had been a mess of wrong steps, but she was a fast learner. Now, her hands found the natural placement at Caitlyn’s waist without a second thought.

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too close to the Whitlock’s daughter?” she asked, her voice deceptively casual.

With Briar, she kept a careful space between them. With Caitlyn, she hadn’t even thought about it. And neither did Caitlyn, it seemed, because she hadn’t moved away either.

Vi smirked, cocking a brow. “Jealous?”

“I just find it interesting.”

Vi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Again, it’s really none of your business.”

Caitlyn simply let their hands align in the proper formation before responding in the coldest voice Vi heard all night.

“Everything you do under my jurisdiction is my business, Violet.”

One step back.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of her full name leaving Caitlyn’s lips. It wasn’t often that she used it, not like that at least.

“Are you fond of her?”

Two steps forward.

“What’s it to you?” Vi replied.

She felt a sharp pressure against her foot, Caitlyn’s heel on top of hers. Vi sucked in a breath through her nose. That wasn’t an accident. Caitlyn knew exactly where she was stepping, just enough weight to make Vi feel it, but not enough to draw attention from the other dancers.

“I would strongly advise against engaging in intimacies with those in your employ,” Caitlyn declared.

Vi gritted her teeth, forcing a strained smile as her voice dropped low. “Says you.”

The pressure of the Commander’s foot made her wince, but Vi couldn’t react. Caitlyn let the moment linger just a second before finally lifting her weight off, resuming the dance like nothing happened.

“Maddie does not work for me,” Caitlyn said. “She is not on the force.”

Vi pulled at Caitlyn’s waist, their bodies centimeters apart, much closer than appropriate for a ballroom dance. It didn’t matter that they were surrounded by other dancers, by music, by an entire room of people.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Vi murmured low and husky, deliberately close to Caitlyn’s ear. “Snuck up on us both without making a noise. Quite the girl, huh?”

A small gasp escaped Caitlyn’s lips and Vi felt it, the way Caitlyn’s body tensed in her grasp. Was it the whisper in her ear? The way Vi’s knee was pressed between Caitlyn’s thighs? The fact that their fingers, without either of them meaning to—had intertwined?

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment. Neither of them realized when they stopped moving, the music already stopped as well.

Caitlyn’s body jerked back, and she shoved her away. Vi staggered slightly, catching herself before she could fall completely. She stormed into the crowd without another word, the people parting for her like the Red Sea.

Maddie hurried after her, stumbling slightly in her heels as she tried to catch up. “Cait, wait!”

Vi grimaced, baring her little wolf fang in annoyance.

She turned and strode off in the opposite direction, her body in desperate need for another drink. Thankfully, she spotted Briar standing near the sideline, casually scribbling on a sketchpad.

“Oh wow,” she drawled. “You really are here to analyze ugly faces.”

At the sound of Vi’s voice, Briar immediately snapped the sketchbook shut, pressing it against her chest.

“That bad, huh?”

Briar gave her an unimpressed look but said nothing, slipping the book into her wealthy little designer purse. Vi let out a chuckle but didn’t push. Instead she muttered, “Could’ve told me we’d swap partners.”

Briar hummed in amusement. “And ruin the fun?”

Vi’s pulse was still pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins from that entire fiasco with Caitlyn. She could feel eyes on her, hushed whispers, the sideways glances.

She fought the very strong urge to spin around and snarl, The hell you looking at? Maybe slam her fist against the nearest table just to watch them jump back into their privileged little shells. But she settled for clicking her tongue against her teeth, staying still in her place.

A lanky waiter in a masquerade mask swept past, balancing a tray of champagne glasses. He was in a hurry, probably running low on patience for these aristocrats. Vi grabbed him by the collar of his shirt from the back of his neck, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Without so much as a glance, Vi plucked two drinks off the tray—obviously both for herself. She released him just as easily, offering a lazy smirk as she tipped one of the glasses slightly in thanks.

The waiter looked displeased, even if Vi couldn’t see his full expression behind the mask. His entire body language screamed inconvenienced, as if serving drinks at a high society function wasn’t literally his job.

The collar of his dress shirt was undone from where she had grabbed him, exposing the skin of his nape.

Then she saw something weird.

A glimpse of ink—just barely visible beneath the fabric.

It wasn’t just any tattoo. It had the same amateur, rugged style as the ones she had. Tattoos weren’t exactly uncommon in Piltover, but they were rarely seen on the people who attended these kinds of functions. Even the workers.

“Excuse me,” he slithered out, before disappearing into the crowd of people.

She should have cared more, but her head was already too full. Instead, she did what she did best. She drank. Briar watched in mild shock as Vi tipped back both glasses, downing the champagne like a barbarian at a feast.

“Gods above,” Briar muttered. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Vi wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. “Close enough,” she muttered. Briar exhaled, clearly about to say something else, but she never got the chance.

The crowd began making their way toward the backyard. The flag raising ordeal. The final stupid act that signified the end of Progress Day.

“You go ahead first,” Vi said, waving a hand dismissively, her voice already sluggish as the alcohol settled in. “I gotta throw these out.”

Lie.

She wasn’t throwing shit out. She was just buying time. Avoiding Caitlyn felt impossible all day, but after that little dance, Vi definitely wasn’t ready to face her again. She needed a minute. A second. A fucking breath.

Briar clearly sensed the bullshit but chose not to call her on it. Instead, she gave a knowing hum before following the rest of the guests outside.

Vi glanced down at the glasses in her hands. The entire ballroom was practically empty now, no staff to take them, no actual trash cans in sight.

So she looked toward the nearest option. A decorative container near the grand staircase leading up to the second floor. It definitely wasn’t meant for garbage. Probably some expensive vase or a collector’s piece that Caitlyn’s ancestors stole from some ancient civilization or whatever.

The sound of applause echoed from outside. She dumped the empty glasses inside quickly, wiping her hands against her slacks.

But as she turned to leave, something caught her eye, tucked away beneath a nook in the staircase.

It wasn’t immediately suspicious, nothing out of place that would make someone stop and do a double take. It was hidden, just well enough to avoid casual notice, but not enough to escape her detective skills (she should really become one after this).

There were a few cluttered objects deliberately arranged to obscure it, but Vi wasn’t blind.

Brown. Rectangular.

The briefcase.

Her brain rattled with pieces of the puzzle fitting together far too smoothly for her comfort.

Tall man. Strange demeanor. Holding this exact briefcase.

She caught him staring at her earlier, watching when she won that silly prize at the punching machine.

Maybe it’s nothing, she told herself. Briefcases aren’t exactly rare.

But her gut told her differently. Something was off. And Vi had never been the type to ignore a gut feeling. She exhaled sharply, stepping closer.

The worst that could happen? Some uppity staff member scolding her for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

But no one was here. Everyone else was outside, hailing the queen of Piltover, waiting for her to deadpan another rehearsed speech about peace, innovation, or whatever the hell these people ate up every year.

Vi clenched her jaw at the thought of Caitlyn. And then, at the thought of Maddie. She hated that her brain was starting to link them together—Caitlyn and her irritatingly perfect girlfriend. Hated that she was even thinking about this while standing over something actually important.

She muttered a curse under her breath and crouched down. Her fingers hovered over the latch.

Fuck it.

If there was something valuable inside, something worth taking, maybe even another tie for her growing collection, she’d swipe it in the name of Zaun. A little Piltover tax to make up for all the ways this city made her life a living hell.

It wasn’t filled with cogs or fine jewelry or anything remotely expected. Instead, what greeted her was the mold of something missing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was a storage case meant to carry something important. The shape was long but not quite a rifle, bulkier than Caitlyn’s, and far too short to be a sniper. She noticed an additional empty slot in the lining. This was much smaller, rounded.

A cylinder meant only one thing: a barrel. A weapon. And not just any weapon—probably a collapsible one, compact enough to fit into a briefcase without drawing attention.

She had seen Caitlyn dismantle her prized rifle a hundred times, spent years watching Jinx piece together her kooky creations.

The man she had spotted earlier, tall and out of place, carrying this exact briefcase. The waiter who had passed by her in a hurry, his uniform crisp but not quite fitting right, ink peeking from his collar.

Then there was the other slot, a compartment designed to hold something small.

Something valuable.

Something like a hextech orb.

The same orb she had stolen from the lab just a few days ago. As she stared at the empty spaces within the case, she finally understood why the resistance group had been so desperate to get their hands on it.

It was the missing piece to whatever the hell this weapon was.

Vi swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears. The realization settled over her.

The civilians. The people. Briar. Caitlyn.

They were all in immediate danger.

Vi bolted outside wanting to warn them, but the crowd surrounding the flagpole was packed too tightly. From a distance, she could see Caitlyn standing with the other high ranking figures, family crest in hand.

Her brain scrambled for a solution that would cut through the noise and get everyone’s attention. But the crowd was too focused on what was ahead, some people too tipsy to even be fully aware of their surroundings.

She desperately tried searching for anything out of place. That’s when she saw it—a faint, flickering glow of blue from the balcony above.

Vi shoved past people, cutting through the enormous backyard. She needed a better view, needed confirmation.

And much to her horror, she was right.

A missile launcher. A bazooka looking device, perched on the balcony. But it wasn’t just any weapon, it was hextech powered. The man behind the weapon had removed his mask revealing his identity.

Her gut had been right. But she acted too late.

Vi watched him press his eye to the scope, steadying his aim. A thin, soft blue line cut through the air, locking onto its target.

A deadly marker aimed directly at the back of Caitlyn’s head.

The glow intensified. The missile was winding up for the shot, its hextech core pulsating. Vi shoved through the crowd, using every ounce of her strength, ignoring the confused stares and murmurs from the high houses as she thrusted forward.

But just as she was about to break through, a man caught her by the arm. “Excuse me, you can't cross,” a voice instructed, belonging to one of the Kiramman staff members.

Vi snarled in frustration. These people didn’t understand. They had no sense of urgency, no grasp of the immediate danger unfolding right before them. She snapped her head back toward the rooftop.

The staff member must have followed her gaze, because his grip weakened. She felt him freeze beside her, his brows knitting in confusion and horror.

Vi didn’t waste a second, throwing him aside and bolted toward Caitlyn.

“Caitlyn, move!”

Caitlyn turned at the sound, her hands still tugging the half raised flag. The irritation on her face was unmistakable—What the hell is she doing now? It wasn’t until she looked up, seeing what Vi saw, that her expression shifted from mild annoyance to shock.

It was coming, and she was standing right in its path. For a fraction of a second, Caitlyn didn’t move. She stood frozen in her spot.

With everything she had, Vi slammed into Caitlyn, shoving her hard. She flew backward, hitting the ground with a thud. Nobody had time to react. Not Maddie, not the hulking woman in red beside Caitlyn, not the crowd of people too absorbed in the ceremony to have noticed what was happening.

Not even Vi.

Because in the very next second, the missile struck. An explosion ripped through the air, colliding with the flagpole instead of Caitlyn. The impact was instantaneous. A surge of heat burned through Vi’s body, sending her flying backward. She hit the ground hard. Everything rang—her ears, her head.

Vi’s eyes fluttered shut for only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. Her head pounded so damn hard. When she forced her eyes open again, her vision was blurred.

Screaming.

Panic.

Terror in every direction.

The scent of fire burned her nose, and through the smoke, she caught sight of flames spreading on the grass. Vi pushed up onto her elbows, groaning as she forced herself to kneel, trying to steady the world around her.

Where was Caitlyn? Her gut twisted violently. Was she okay?

She heard the muffled echoes of the woman in red barking orders, commanding nearby enforcers as they scrambled to respond. But something else pulled Vi’s attention—something worse.

The ground beneath her rumbled and her eyes whipped up.

The flagpole.

The structure that had been hit with the explosive meant for Caitlyn—was beginning to give way.

“Everyone, get out of the way! It’s coming down!”

“Move—move, quick!”

The panicked shouts echoed across the backyard as people fled, some tripping over themselves in their frantic rush to escape. The pole tilted, slow at first, then faster—like a tree that had just been chopped down. Vi felt relief wash over her when she realized she wasn’t in its fall zone. But suddenly a voice rang through the smoke.

Briar.

Vi’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes landing on the Whitlock heir. She was trapped, her foot lodged beneath a massive piece of debris that had been blasted from the impact.

She was right beneath where the pole was about to collapse.

Vi felt dizzy, weak, her body screaming in protest from the force of the explosion she just endured. Her skin burned from where the heat had scorched her.

She shook her head violently, forcing the haze to clear, forcing her body to move. With everything she had left, she sprinted toward Briar. The pain didn’t exist. The exhaustion didn’t exist. Vi reached the debris, straining her aching muscles to lift stuff off Briar's leg, until someone nearby rushed in and dragged her away.

Crack.

A horrible, splintering sound tore through the air. The pole was coming down, and right on top of her.

She turned just in time to see a blur of her baby blue—Caitlyn, running, her mouth open in a scream Vi couldn’t hear, her hands reaching for her.

Everything slowed. The fall. Caitlyn’s desperate sprint toward her. Vi’s own heartbeat, thudding in her ears.

And then—Nothing. Just black.

Chapter Text

It was warm.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Vi felt like she was wrapped in something soft, like a thick, fuzzy blanket. It was almost comforting, until it wasn’t.

The warmth intensified, shifting from mild to something heavier, hotter. It felt like she was submerged in a boiling pot, and someone had just turned up the temperature.

The heat surged, burning against her skin, growing hotter and hotter until it felt unbearable, like she was being cooked alive.

Was she in hell?

Oh, please no. She hadn’t been that bad, right? Vi threw her hands together in a silent prayer, pleading with whatever higher power might be listening.

Okay, maybe I deserved a little heat, but this? This is overkill, man!

But the burning only worsened. It clawed up her limbs, her torso, squeezed her chest with suffocating intensity. She gasped, but no air came, only fire and pain.

The sensation overwhelmed her and finally, she screamed into the void.

Vi’s eyes shot open in a panic, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her skin was warm, but surprisingly she wasn’t in Dante’s Inferno.

No flames or eternal damnation. Hah!

Instead, she was lying on a mattress against a stupid amount of pillows, positioned in an upright sitting position.

Groggily, she tried to lift her arm to shove off the heavy blanket, but something tugged against her wrist. She turned her head to find a thin tube hooked into her arm, connected to a small machine with a bag of clear liquid.

She had never seen anything like this before, but one thing was for damn sure, she didn’t like it. Without hesitation, she ripped the needle out, hissing slightly at the sting. Immediately, the machine let out rapid beeping noises.

Vi flinched, grimacing as she scrambled to shut it off. She had no idea what kind of tech this was, but she did know how to handle things that were being loud and annoying.

By punching it!

The moment her knuckles connected to WALL-E, a sharp pang shot through her entire body. Her muscles ached in waves, a sign that her other injuries were catching up to her. It must have been more serious than she thought.

It wasn’t the worst pain she ever felt (she had taken hits in the Pits that left her worse off) but jeez, this was definitely worse than your average street fight.

At least the machine finally shut the hell up. Small victories.

Vi shook her head quickly, trying to pull herself together before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The moment her bare feet hit the cold floor, she actually processed where she was. This wasn’t a hospital or some random infirmary, it was her own room in the Whitlock mansion.

She raked a hand through her hair. Whatever had happened yesterday must have been a complete shit show. There was only so much she remembered before she went to sleep. All Vi knew was she didn’t have time to be strapped to a bed, hooked up to machines like a robot. Something was coming, and Vi could feel it beneath her skin like a warning. Whatever was brewing was bigger than her mission in Zaun, bigger than just a single attack at some stupid Progress Day event.

As she scanned her room, something made her pause. Flowers. Dozens of them. Baskets of all sizes and colors. The smell alone was clogging her nostrils more than the smog she grew up inhaling in the Undercity. Maybe the Whitlock gardeners left them here by accident, because there was no way in hell they were actually for her. No one in Piltover gave a damn about her like that. Hell, she didn’t even know enough people in her lifetime to justify this many gifts.

Vi pushed the thought aside. She had more important things to focus on, like getting out of here. It wasn’t like she was being held hostage, but she also wasn’t about to sit around waiting for someone to storm in and make a big deal about her waking up.

Her eyes flicked to a pair of soft, pink fuzzy bunny slippers placed neatly beside her bed. Vi had no idea who put them there, but they’d have to do. Slipping them on, she crept toward the door, carefully cracking it open before glancing down the hallway.

The coast was clear.

By now, Vi knew the Whitlock mansion almost like the back of her hand. It had taken a few accidental wrong turns, but eventually, she figured out the best ways to maneuver around without drawing too much attention. There was a way to exit the estate through the back gardens, something she discovered after getting lost one day.

Moving carefully through the yard, she made sure to check for any roaming staff before heading down one of the gravel paths. The gardens were as extravagant as ever, with perfectly trimmed hedges, marble fountains, and outdoor furniture so clean that Vi sometimes wondered if anyone actually used it. On quieter days, Vi liked to sit on one of the benches and just exist, watching the leaves fall.

She spotted a gardener raking a nearby pathway. Vi stiffened and quickly turned to take another route, hoping to slip away unnoticed—

“Going somewhere?”

Vi turned, and sure enough, she was now in the presence of the head of the Whitlock household himself, Grant Whitlock.

Mr. Whitlock was dressed in something pajama-like, holding a cup of coffee. He looked tired, with dark circles looming beneath his eyes. Vi stood there, caught like a child with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. Her mouth opened slightly, scrambling for something to say.

“Uh … no?” She cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. “Just out, y’know … smelling the flowers and whatnot.”

She forced a casual shrug, trying way too hard to look like she wasn’t in the process of sneaking out.

Vi watched as Grant took a slow seat on the ledge of a nearby flower bed. Without looking at her, he patted the empty spot beside him, instructing her to sit.

She hesitated for a second before sighing and doing as she was told, feeling oddly dejected. Vi braced herself for the inevitable. He was probably going to scold her for being out of bed, demand an explanation for what had happened at the party, maybe even reprimand her for something completely unrelated.

But instead, he surprised her.

“We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said simply.

Vi blinked, brows crinkling in confusion. That was not what she expected to hear.

Grant let out a slow sigh, his grip tightening slightly around his mug. “I … want to thank you for saving my daughter, Violet,” he continued. “Perhaps in more ways than one.”

He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring off into the endless rows of hedges and plants ahead, his expression unreadable. But Vi could feel the weight of something heavier sitting on his shoulders, something that went beyond just her pulling Briar out of the way last night.

Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed involuntarily, unsure of how to respond. Gratitude wasn’t something she was used to, least of all from someone like him.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You cannot begin to account for how the loss of a son affects a person.”

Then, as if realizing his own words, he stopped abruptly, dragging a hand down his face. “Well,” he muttered. “I mean … of course, you know all too well. How ridiculous of me…”

Vi let out a short huff of air through her nose at his choice of words. It wasn’t quite a laugh, more like a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken truths between them. Maybe she didn’t know exactly how it felt to lose a child, but she had lost her father and her siblings. People died everyday in Zaun, and Vi had seen it all before she even turned fifteen.

“I know what you mean, sir.”

Grant gave a slow nod before exhaling. “Yes, well … It’s just that now, with Briar … with Graham gone … I feel she had regressed into a shell of her very being.”

Vi hadn’t even thought about Briar until now.

Her mind was too tangled in everything else: the explosion, Caitlyn, the fuckass hextech weapon, to even register that she had no idea what happened to Briar after she was pulled to safety. The last thing she remembered was shoving the debris off of her, making sure she could be dragged away before everything went black.

A pit formed in Vi’s stomach, her mind racing to the worst possible conclusion almost instinctively.

Grant’s tired posture. His distant words. The fact that he was sitting here, speaking in past tense.

Did Briar not make it? Did something else happen after Vi was knocked unconscious?

“Is she okay?” she interrupted, eyes widening in alarm.

Grant chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I think you should worry about your own condition first, Inspector.”

Vi nearly shot back with who the hell you calling inspector? but barely caught herself in time. Her fingers scratched against her thighs in guilt. Vi hadn’t even realized that her hands were no longer wrapped in bandages.

She was lying to this family—to everyone. Every interaction, every piece of trust she had managed to earn from these people had been built on a foundation of fraud.

But it was for the greater good, wasn’t it?

“She’s alright,” Grant hummed, noticing Vi’s subtle jitters. “That girl is more worried about you than she is about herself. Left all those flowers in your absence.”

Well, no wonder her room looked like a damn greenhouse. She assumed it was some weird upper class tradition, or maybe just a mistake, but Briar had been the one bringing them?

Of course she did. It was such a Briar thing to do, a reminder to Vi that her friend had more money and time than she would ever know what to do with.

Grant gave a small chuckle, before taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You’re the talk of the town, kid.”

Vi scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Lemme guess, they wanna throw me in jail?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction. “They believe you’re their savior.”

Vi’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at that. She wasn’t a fucking savior. She wasn’t some noble hero, some grand protector of Piltover’s fragile bubble. She saved Caitlyn because she had to, saved Briar because she could.

Grant must have seen something in her expression because his voice softened slightly. “I know we’ve had our own reservations about you, but in all honesty? You’re a good person, Violet.”

Vi didn’t know how to respond to that.

Before she could even attempt to, Grant continued. “Once the investigations have all concluded, I figured, with your interest in boxing, we could fund a gym for you here in Piltover. If you ever decide you want to settle up here from time to time.”

Vi’s hands immediately shot up in protest, waving the offer away. “Oh, no … no way. I can’t accept that, sir.” Even if the Whitlocks were drowning in wealth, she wasn’t about to take something like that from them.

“Call me Grant,” he corrected gently. “And it’s not a handout, Violet. It’s a token of appreciation, from my family, to you.”

After their conversation, Vi was strongly persuaded to return to her room and rest. She had gone back and forth with Grant about both the crazy generous gym funding and her urgency to leave the property, but her protests fell on deaf ears. No matter how human these Piltovens appeared in moments like this, they were still Piltovens, used to getting their way.

So, Vi found herself plopped back onto her ridiculously comfortable bed. She picked out a book from the Whitlock library on the way back, one she’d been eyeing for a while now. If she was going to be held captive by luxury, she might as well get something out of it.

She barely got past a few pages when a knock at the door broke her attention span. Setting the book aside, she sat up slightly.

The door creaked open, and when she saw who it was, a sly smile pulled at her lips.

Briar stood in the doorway, looking exactly like herself, except for the addition of a cast wrapped around her ankle and a crutch tucked under one arm. In her free hand, she held a small cactus.

“I—” they both started at the same time.

A brief pause. Then, Vi let out a breathy laugh, running a hand across the back of her neck. She didn’t realize just how relieved she felt seeing Briar standing there, very much alive, very much okay. And judging by the expression on Briar’s face, the feeling was mutual.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both seemingly waiting for the other to go first. But before either of them could get a word out, the door swung open again. Not in a gentle manner with a knock, but in entitlement, like a conqueror.

Vi’s smile dropped.

Standing in the doorway, dressed far more casually than Vi had ever seen her, was Caitlyn Kiramman.

The loose white blouse she wore was slightly oversized, the kind of shirt that made her look kind of like a pirate. She still had her blue and gold Kiramman jacket, but it was draped loosely over her shoulders, unbuttoned. Her usually neat blue hair was slightly tussled, just messy enough to suggest she didn’t put much effort into it today.

Vi couldn’t help but focus all her attention on her. And judging by the way Briar’s eyes darted between the two of them, she knew that equally as well.

Without another word, Briar simply placed the cactus down on a nearby surface, then dipped her head slightly in a respectful bow. “I will leave you both,” she murmured softly. The young Whitlock didn’t bother to look back before taking her exit.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Caitlyn shrugged off her jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. She said nothing while doing so, her movements smooth, almost absentminded. Vi remained silent, watching Caitlyn scan the number of flower baskets that decorated the room.

A quiet hum left Caitlyn’s lips as she reached for the cactus Briar just left behind, tilting her head slightly as she inspected the tiny spikes up close.

“Hmm,” she mused, her voice calm but laced with something Vi couldn’t quite read. “She must really take a fancy to you.”

Vi rolled her eyes. Of course that was the first thing out of Caitlyn Kiramman’s mouth.

“Why are you here?” she asked bluntly.

Caitlyn let out a slow, deliberate sigh. “Am I not permitted to check in on my squad members?”

“Right. Because that’s definitely the only reason you came.”

She wasn’t stupid. News traveled fast in Piltover, especially in circles like the Whitlocks and the Kirammans. It had barely been an hour since her conversation with Grant in the gardens. No way Caitlyn hadn’t heard about it already.

But Vi wasn’t about to sit here and dance around whatever Caitlyn was here for. There were bigger things to deal with.

“Whatever,” she muttered, shaking her head. “We don’t have time for this. Have you tracked him yet? It’s been a day, he couldn’t have gotten that far.”

Caitlyn pressed her lips together, something unreadable flashing across her face. “Vi, I—”

“Save it, Cait. You didn’t have to come today. We need to—”

“Vi.”

Caitlyn’s authoritative voice cut through the room. Vi flinched slightly, caught off guard by the way she spoke. Caitlyn wasn’t angry, but there was a weight to her voice.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Caitlyn’s eyes locked onto hers.

Vi’s brows furrowed, feeling frustrated at Caitlyn’s cryptic tone. “What are you talking about?”

Caitlyn stepped closer, lowering herself onto the edge of Vi’s bed. She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully.

“You’ve been in a coma,” she finally said. “For almost a week now.”

Vi’s heart slammed against her ribs. A week?

She didn’t have a week to spare. The assassin was probably light years away by now if they hadn’t managed to track him. Her mission, her cover, the Undercity—she didn’t even know what state it was in after so many days of nothing.

The color drained from her face and she could feel her pulse thudding in her ears. A pair of warm hands settled over her own, and only then did she realize that her fists had been clenched so tightly into the bedsheets that her knuckles turned white.

Caitlyn’s fingers brushed lightly over her skin, her thumb moving in a slow, soothing motion across Vi’s knuckles.

“You shouldn’t have done that, you fool,” she murmured.

“Wow, still can’t thank me properly, huh?” Vi huffed a soft scoff. Despite the teasing edge in her voice, she felt her body unclench, the tension inside her unraveling under Caitlyn’s presence.

Caitlyn didn’t respond right away. Her gaze remained fixed downward, focused on Vi’s hands resting beneath her own. Sunlight from the nearby window cast shadows over Vi’s knuckles, highlighting the faded scars and bruises left behind from endless rounds in the Pits.

Vi never really thought about it. To her, the scars were just part of her everyday life. But now, with her hands completely unwrapped for the first time in forever, she could practically hear Caitlyn’s thoughts.

Without warning, Caitlyn’s grip on her arm tightened, tugging her hand closer.

Vi barely had time to react before Caitlyn pressed her lips against her skin, planting a soft kiss against each scarred knuckle.

Her body locked up instantly, her entire arm going limp in Caitlyn’s grasp. The commander wasn’t just doing this for the sake of it. No, she was slow and deliberate. Each kiss was careful in a way that made Vi’s pulse speed up.

On the last knuckle, Caitlyn finally looked up, her lips lingering just a second too long. Their eyes met, blue against red.

“Thank you, Vi,” she murmured against Vi’s hand.

Vi’s face burned. A heat so intense it practically scalded her skin. “Cait…”

Caitlyn dropped both their hands to the side of the bed. Her fingers remained curled around Vi’s, as if reluctant to let go entirely. Conflict flickered behind her eyes like she was caught between two opposing fights within herself.

It wasn’t like Caitlyn to initiate something like this. Not now, anyways.

Vi wasn’t sure what was real or fake, what was deliberate or just the heat of the moment. But the way Caitlyn had kissed her knuckles, her lips grazing over the bone with the faintest drag of teeth—fuck, it sent a spark of arousal through her veins, something she didn’t know how to process.

Within the span of a breath, Vi found herself mere inches from Caitlyn’s face, their noses almost brushing. She shut her eyes briefly, taking in the scent of cherry blossoms drifting from Caitlyn’s skin. It was familiar, yet different. She spent years recognizing Caitlyn by the earthy scent of lavender, but this was new.

Sweeter.

Entrancing in a way that made Vi’s head feel lighter like she drank something stronger than whatever fancy Piltover liquor those people stocked in their overpriced cabinets.

Her hands moved on instinct even with her eyes shut, like a magnet drawn to its opposite.

Vi cupped Caitlyn’s cheek and the reaction was immediate. Caitlyn mewled into her palm, leaning into it without even thinking. Her fingers then drifted, tucking a stray strand of deep blue behind Caitlyn’s ear before trailing back to the side of her head. Vi knew her ex-partner’s anatomy all too well, remembered all the structures and crevices like the map was ingrained into her head.

But she felt something wet against her fingertips.

Vi opened her eyes in confusion, only to find Caitlyn crying. Silent, steady tears rolled down her cheeks, streaking across glass skin.

“Something wrong?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic. Vi started to pull her hand away, suddenly afraid she had pushed too far, done something she shouldn’t have, but Caitlyn didn’t let go.

Instead, she pressed her hand on top of Vi’s, holding it against her cheek, keeping it there.

“Don’t go,” her voice was quiet, barely more than a breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes still damp with tears. “Stay.”

So Vi stayed.

She stayed exactly where she was, frozen in place, letting Caitlyn take whatever she needed from her in that moment.

How many people had ever seen Caitlyn Kiramman like this? Vulnerable. Exposed. Tears slipping past the carefully constructed walls she always held so high.

Vi swallowed thickly, the sight tugging mercilessly at something deep in her chest. She brushed her thumb across Caitlyn’s cheek, wiping away the streaks. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to coax Caitlyn’s gaze back up to hers. When she finally opened her eyes, Vi offered her a small, sympathetic look.

Caitlyn leaned in, her hand remained over Vi’s. She kept her there, as if she was afraid to let go, fearing Vi might disappear entirely. Her palms felt damp against Caitlyn’s skin, and she worried that she’d end up soaking her cheek even more. But Caitlyn didn’t seem to care. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate.

She just looked at Vi, wordlessly asking, is this okay?

Vi wanted to answer her. She wanted to tell her everything. The truth. The lies. The weight of it all.

But she couldn’t.

She hoped that her eyes would say what her mouth refused to, that Caitlyn could see her own war raging inside of her filled with longing and hesitation, guilt and want.

Maybe, in the end, she was just a coward. Too afraid to confront the truth and admit this entire persona: the inspector, the hero, the savior of Piltover, was a scheme. A betrayal in the making.

And yet, she didn’t pull away. She didn’t push Caitlyn back. Didn’t stop herself from indulging.

Vi leaned in, closing the final inches between them. She pressed her lips to Caitlyn’s, sinking into the soft, familiar warmth she had dreamt of for so long.

Caitlyn was practically speed walking down the hallway toward her destination. Her neatly pressed uniform didn’t feel quite as put together as it should, mainly because she was fumbling to loop her gold cufflinks at the current pace she was going.

With a frustrated grunt, she gave up, letting them hang loose. Whatever. She’d fix it later.

When she finally reached the office, Ambessa was already there. And of course, so was Maddie.

Caitlyn didn’t even bother questioning why her girlfriend was already in the precinct. Maddie had a bad habit of showing up uninvited, sometimes managing to get there even before Caitlyn herself. It was something she long since stopped trying to fight.

Before she could even greet them, a newspaper was shoved directly into her face.

Caitlyn’s irritation flared instantly. First of all, what the hell was that for? Second, did they have any idea how many germs were on those things?!

She did not spend an extensive amount of time on her nightly skincare routine just to have a grubby, ink stained garbage pressed right against her T-zone.

“What the—” she muttered against the paper before she smacked it away from her eyesight.

The newspaper fell into Caitlyn’s hands. She was still caught in a daze, adjusting her vision to the two women standing before her.

“You’re late,” Ambessa’s voice boomed. “Read it. Out loud, for gods’ sake.”

Caitlyn blinked, lowering her gaze to the bold headline staring back at her.

"VIOLET LANES: HERO OF PILTOVER."

Her expression didn’t shift. She kept her perfectly practiced, composed facade in place, even as amusement threatened to creep in at the edges.

She almost smiled.

But neither of the other two women in the room seemed remotely inclined to share her amusement.

“A Zaunite,” Maddie sneered, arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Piltover’s hero? What a joke.”

Caitlyn could hear the venom in her tone. Ambessa let out a sharp breath, placing her hands on her hips as she resumed her pacing around the room.

“This is a disaster,” she stated. “It completely undermines the image we have worked tirelessly to cultivate. They are our enemies, not our allies.”

Caitlyn remained silent, though she felt slightly irritated. She had grown tired of this rhetoric, of the endless propaganda drilled into her mind. Almost two years of this, following orders, doing what she thought was right because of the poison oinked in her ear.

“I knew she was trouble from the very start,” Maddie seethed. In a move Caitlyn never expected, she turned to Ambessa, eyes blazing with a rare kind of defiance.

It was true that Ambessa was the one to introduce Maddie into her world, but she never questioned the extent of their relationship. She assumed Ambessa’s ties to the Noxian aristocracy were merely political. Not even Caitlyn raised her voice at Ambessa, let alone challenge her. But the way Maddie spoke now suggested something deeper.

Ambessa turned slowly, glaring so sharp at Maddie that it sent a message clear as day: Be silent.

Caitlyn could see Maddie’s jaw tighten and her hands balled into fists at her sides. This was new. This unrestrained fury and lack of calculation wasn’t the Maddie Caitlyn had come to know. Not like her girlfriend was as quiet as a mouse, but she never spoke without thinking first at how it would affect others. Almost like she was trained to.

“She must go back to Zaun immediately,” Maddie declared, snapping her head away from Ambessa’s warning look. “Her credentials … are they even legitimate?”

Caitlyn watched Maddie go completely unraveled, not just in front of her, but in front of Ambessa. Something about it felt off. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about Vi.

The ginger’s eyes snapped to hers. “And where were you this entire day?”

For the briefest moment, she was caught off guard by the question, by the accusation in Maddie’s tone. But it only took a second for Caitlyn’s composure to return before remembering who she was, and the status of her figure.

“Must I report my whereabouts to you every second of every day?”

Maddie stuttered over her words before quickly gathering herself, completely ignoring Caitlyn’s response altogether. “We’ve got to end this,” she muttered under her breath, voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Caitlyn’s shoulders tensed. End what?

She had no idea what Maddie was even referring to anymore, and frankly, she wasn’t sure if Maddie knew either.

Had she finally lost it? Mad-die, the name practically wrote itself.

This entire conversation spiraled into chaos, going so far off course that Caitlyn could no longer be bothered to entertain it. Her patience was already worn thin, her morning had been eventful enough, and the last thing she needed was to stand here listening to whatever war hungry nonsense these Noxians were spewing.

Caitlyn heard Ambessa click her tongue in Maddie’s direction, another sound of disapproval. But Ambessa didn't chastise her out loud, not with words anyways.

“Maddie does have a point,” she admitted. “Violet’s growing influence in Piltover might become … problematic for our—” she hesitated before correcting herself. “For your position in power.”

Caitlyn caught the slip.

Her ice cold gaze locked onto Ambessa. The air between them thickened with tension, but Caitlyn didn’t speak.

She had nothing to say anymore. Nothing she wanted to say.

Ambessa held the stare for a bit before shifting gears.

“Our intelligence will have an updated report on the attacker by noon tomorrow,” she continued. “How they managed to get their hands on hextech is still unknown to us.”

Caitlyn hated to admit it, but on this, Ambessa was right.

Hextech was a danger to society, full stop. She had personally overseen its heavy restrictions, ensuring that not only was it banned for the general public, but even to her own enforcers. The only exception was herself, her rifle, custom crafted by Jayce before his disappearance. And even that she only used under the strictest necessity.

Ambessa, however, had relentlessly pushed for greater hextech integration, urging Caitlyn to authorize new research and experimental labs, even though each attempt ended in disaster. More casualties, more deaths, more trouble. Every single time, Caitlyn’s suspicions had been proven correct: nobody in Piltover could be trusted to handle hextech responsibly. Nobody.

And now, considering their supposed scientist in Zaun led to another dead end, Caitlyn had even more reason to oppose its development.

Yet, despite all of that, somehow, the attacker had gotten their hands on it.

Ambessa’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “They’ve found a match for the hand and footprints left on a briefcase nearby.”

Chapter Text

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of typing filled the room. Caitlyn had been reluctant to come into work at all this morning. But as the leader of Piltover’s enforcers, she had no choice. Duty above all else.

At the workstation in front of her, an older, white haired man with a thick beard typed furiously. Caitlyn barely spared him a glance, her attention between the clock on the wall and the woman standing beside her.

The chief in command, watching the poor man like a hawk as if she could extract the answers faster by staring at him.

Caitlyn crossed one arm over her chest. Her boot tapped against the floor in urgency. She wasn’t the only one impatient. Caitlyn knew exactly why Ambessa wanted these results so badly.

And, if she was being honest, she understood.

It was undeniable that Vi’s growing reputation in Piltover posed a problem for the regime, Ambessa’s regime, more than anyone else’s. The older woman was hoping that this attacker had ties to Zaun. Any connection would do. It would be the perfect opportunity to shift the blame and weaponize the situation against the Undercity.

And while Caitlyn was curious, she was exhausted by this endless game of cat and mouse.

She just barely survived a devastating assassination attempt, yet she felt nothing in response. The only thing that occupied her mind was Vi.

The way she looked at her. The way she touched her. The kiss they shared.

Caitlyn still felt it lingering on her lips.

"How much longer will it take?"

The older man visibly shuddered at the question because it came from Ambessa. He pushed his glasses up from the bottom of his nose and answered with a stammering, "A-Any moment now, Chief."

Ambessa didn’t acknowledge his nervousness. Instead, she turned to Caitlyn. "I've called Maddie over—"

"You did what?" Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her in disbelief.

Ambessa sighed. "You both need to resolve your differences. It is damaging to the city that you appear divided."

Caitlyn inhaled slowly through her nose, forcing herself to not react negatively. Not in front of the poor man who was very much pretending he had no ears at all.

"I am sure brutality and war have those effects, with or without my involvement with her."

“With an attack on Innovation Day from a Zaun mongrel, our reputation might as well be in the gutters,” Ambessa gruffed.

"And how exactly do you know a Zaunite is responsible for the attack?" she countered.

Ambessa hesitated. Only for a fraction of a second. "You believe otherwise?"

Caitlyn didn’t answer immediately. It was easy to blame Zaun. Piltover had done it for centuries.

And she enabled it.

For years, Caitlyn upheld these policies without question, believing herself to be doing good. But justice was not as clear as her old textbooks claimed it to be.

Before she could speak, the door to the analysis room swung open. And just like that, her already insufferable morning became infinitely worse.

Of course she found her way here without help. How she managed to get access to classified investigations so freely was beyond Caitlyn’s understanding, though she suspected Ambessa had something to do with it.

But this was supposed to be an investigation. Not relationship therapy.

“How many times must you bring her up?”

She knew exactly who Maddie was referring to. Because that was the real issue, wasn’t it?

Violet.

Vi.

The bane of her existence. The object of all her desires. The woman she kissed behind her girlfriend’s back.

That day, Caitlyn lingered in Vi’s room longer than she should have. It was Caitlyn who broke the kiss first, withdrawing with a shocked gasp. Her fingers shot to her lips, covering them. She instinctively shuffled back, needing distance from Vi’s suffocating presence.

Vi didn’t move. Instead, she smirked. The brawler wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, watching Caitlyn with something Caitlyn refused to say out loud.

Caitlyn wanted to run away. Every fiber of her body told her to leave, but her legs refused to move.

And worse, so did her heart.

Because despite everything, she felt at ease in a way she never had with anyone else.

She remembered the way Vi held onto her hand. Her fingers intertwined with hers, anchoring Caitlyn in place.

Come with me.

That was what Vi said, pleaded, not in words, but in the way her eyes searched Caitlyn’s.

Caitlyn objected, of course. Vi was in no condition to go anywhere. She had barely recovered, and was still tangled in an ongoing investigation. It was reckless.

But then she caught where Vi was looking, not toward the door, but the window. Caitlyn assumed she just meant outside, maybe for a moment of fresh air after being confined for a week.

But she was wrong.

Vi didn’t just want to leave the mansion. She wanted to leave Piltover.

She wanted Caitlyn to sneak away with her to Zaun. Just for a night. Just the two of them.

Which was how she found herself with an appointment outside the Whitlock mansion fence tonight. They would have to wear disguises, of course. If anyone in Zaun recognized them, especially Caitlyn, gods help them both.

It was almost like a date.

The thrill of sneaking away, the rush of doing something she wasn’t supposed to. It sent an exhilarating dose of adrenaline through Caitlyn’s veins, a sensation she hadn’t felt in years.

At her core, Caitlyn had always been defiant. People mistook her for the rule abiding type, but that was far from the truth. She was never the one to blindly follow orders, to accept things as they were.

And yet, as the leader of Piltover, she had obligations. Responsibilities. A carefully curated image she had to uphold.

“You’re right,” Maddie’s voice cut through. She closed her eyes briefly before continuing. “Perhaps I’ve … overreacted.”

Caitlyn watched as Maddie inched closer, reaching out to take both of her hands in a gentle, reassuring grip.

“Let’s go out tonight, hon,” she said, offering a small smile. “I think we’re in dire need of some time together.”

Caitlyn’s body acted on instinct, withdrawing her hands immediately. Maddie’s face fell. Disappointment flickered across her features, quickly followed by confusion. Caitlyn should have offered an excuse, some soft words to smooth over the moment, but she didn’t.

Ambessa, on the other hand, remained silent but watchful. She busied herself by keeping her eyes on the old man, though Caitlyn knew she was still listening.

Caitlyn reached for her coat where it had been folded neatly over a chair. “I have a headache,” she declared. “I’ll be taking some time to myself tonight in my study. Please don’t disturb me.”

Ambessa finally moved. “The results are in, child.” She shifted away from the screen, studying Caitlyn carefully. “Don’t you want to know?”

Of course, she wanted to know.

Her detective side fought wholeheartedly with her collected side for dominance. It wasn’t that the investigation didn’t matter—it did. But right now? It could wait. Just for a day. And, more importantly, she had no desire to remain in Maddie’s presence for a second longer.

With a flick of her wrist, Caitlyn waved her hand dismissively. “Feel free to go over it yourself.”

“Very well,” she hummed. “We’ll meet back here at midnight to discuss how we’ll proceed with the culprit, shall we?”

Caitlyn knew she couldn’t run from her responsibilities forever. One evening with Vi, before returning to the reality of her obligations.

“So be it,” she replied, her voice firm, final.

Vi rarely made the same mistake twice.

She had successfully snuck out this time and was now waiting just beyond the Whitlock perimeters. Whether hers truly would actually show up was a coin toss.

She knew, deep down, that convincing the commander of Piltover to sneak away to Zaun with her was a hail mary play. A shot in the dark.

There were fragments of Caitlyn that still felt familiar now that they’ve rekindled slightly. But she was busy. She had important things to do. More important than lingering behind her on a stupid, sentimental trip home.

Still, Vi held onto hope.

She was dressed in all black, wearing whatever scraps of dark clothing she could dig up from the endless wardrobes of the Whitlock estate. Not that they had much to work with. The entire closet was filled with bright fabrics, gold jewellery, and whatever nonsense meant “good luck and prosperity” in Piltover.

She checked the watch on her wrist (also borrowed from the grand Whitlock closet, because why the hell not?) and sighed when she saw the time.

A couple ticks past their agreed upon meeting.

Vi shook her head, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Figures.

Of course Caitlyn wouldn’t come. It was stupid to believe otherwise.

With a huff, Vi pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and turned to leave.

"Going somewhere?"

She was met with the sight of Caitlyn standing there with her head tilted slightly, a knowing smile playing at her lips. And, just to really rub it in, she gave a tiny little wave as if they had just run into each other by accident.

Caitlyn actually came.

For a moment, Vi almost smiled back. But then she remembered she was late. "Hmm, yes. Round trip to Zaun. Any takers?"

Vi let out a breathy chuckle as she took in Caitlyn’s ridiculous appearance.

The commander looked great as always, but wow, she looked funny.

Caitlyn was wearing that same damn Steve Jobs turtleneck, paired with a black flat cap, as if she just walked straight out of a play about train conductors. Not like someone who needed to be concealing her identity.

"Seriously?" Vi scoffed, circling around Caitlyn like a predator.

Caitlyn placed a hand sassily on her hip, her posh accent cutting through. "What? You said black!"

"Yeah, as in we gotta blend into the shadows, Cupcake," Vi shot back. "You look like you're about to sell me a newspaper for a haffa’pennay."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at Vi’s poor attempt in copying her accent. Without warning, she shoved Vi’s shoulder playfully in retaliation. For a couple of minutes which they did not have to spare, they wasted time play fighting like kids in a schoolyard.

"Okay, okay!" Vi finally relented, breathless from laughter as she held her hands up in surrender. "You win, I give up."

Caitlyn grinned triumphantly, brushing off her sleeves like she had just won some grand battle.

Vi smirked, and then without warning, she reached for the hem of her coat. The moment she began pulling it over her head, Caitlyn gasped.

"What … what are you doing?”

Vi winked, yanking off her inner layer next, leaving her standing in nothing but her bandages.

It was too dark to see, but Vi felt the heat practically pouring from a very flustered Caitlyn. She took a step closer until they were standing face to face. Then, Vi lifted the shirt and wrapped it gently around Caitlyn’s neck, pulling it up to cover the lower half of her face like a mask.

She tightened the sides, ensuring it was secure.

Ensuring Caitlyn's identity was protected.

The most important thing of the night.

Caitlyn allowed it to happen. She stood there, still and composed, her piercing blue eyes never once leaving Vi’s.

When Vi finished adjusting the fabric, she flashed a satisfied grin. But Caitlyn’s gaze didn’t meet hers anymore.

Instead, Vi watched as Caitlyn’s eyes slowly drifted lower and lower…

Vi clicked her tongue, breaking the moment with a knowing smirk. "Tsk. You’re sick, you know that?"

"And you smell," she countered, wrinkling her nose under the mask.

Vi gasped, clutching her chest. "Excuse you, m’lady!" she shot back. "I’ll have you know, I do take full advantage of those fancy ass bathrooms at the Whitlocks’ … you can even sit in the showers!"

Caitlyn gave her a pointed look, unimpressed. Vi only grinned wider, pulling her coat back on. Her eyes flickered down to her watch.

“We should go now,” she muttered.

She took a step forward, expecting Caitlyn to follow, but the woman paused. Vi immediately stopped, glancing back. She studied Caitlyn carefully, wondering if the jitters had finally caught up with her. Maybe she changed her mind about going. If so, Vi wouldn’t hold it against her. Sure, it would be a little disappointing, but she’d deal with it.

Instead, Caitlyn exhaled, a slight crease forming between her brows. "I have to be back no later than midnight, Vi."

Vi held her gaze for a moment, letting the words settle. Without hesitation, she reached out, wrapping her fingers around Caitlyn’s.

"Of course, Cait," she said, voice softer now. "Don’t worry."

Caitlyn hesitated, but a small smile curved at the corners of her lips. Her hold on Vi’s hand tightened.

"Lead the way."

Zaun changed in the last two years.

But in all the ways that mattered, it stayed exactly the same.

Caitlyn had just been down here last week for the investigation at the Pits, but back then, she didn’t have time to look at Zaun the way she once had. She was too caught up in the case.

This time, it was different.

For one, her parkour skills improved significantly. At the very least, she managed to beat Vi down to the Undercity this time. Though Vi of course, begged to differ.

They ended up in the heart of Zaun, the same place they went when Caitlyn had first broken Vi out of Stillwater. A sprawling night market, alive with neon lights and thousands of voices. Even now, despite everything, it bustled with life.

But there was no denying that the spark had dulled.

Zaun always felt chaotic. Now, though?

The neon still glowed, but dimmer. The people still moved, but their steps were heavier.

The air still held that distinct Zaunite scent of smoke, metal, oil. Though Caitlyn could hardly smell it properly, thanks to Vi’s shirt covering her face.

They passed a few posters of her along the way … if they could even be called that. In reality, it was really just graffiti.

Her own face, defaced.

Her image as Piltover’s leader spray painted in blue, marked with symbols, slurs and accusations.

One, in particular, stood out to her.

They had crossed out her eyes.

A silent omen. A death sentence.

Caitlyn didn’t let it bother her. It was inevitable, after all, Zaun’s hatred for Piltover and for her people had always been there.

Still, as she walked past the markings of her own execution, she felt something unpleasant in her gut.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder, if her disguise were to suddenly dissolve into thin air right here and now, would they kill her on the spot? Would it be quick? A knife to the throat, a bullet between the eyes? Or would they drag her through the streets and let the city rip her apart piece by piece?

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She had been too distracted, letting her gaze linger too long on the graffiti. In doing so, she failed to notice the massive figure in her path.

The collision sent a shockwave through her body. The man … if she could even call him that … stopped dead in front of her, towering over her like a mountain of flesh. His eyes narrowed as he stared into her, peeling back Caitlyn’s layers one by one like an onion.

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched toward the pistol she had hidden behind her back. Vi told her to leave all of her weapons behind, insisting they didn’t need it tonight, but Caitlyn couldn’t help herself.

Her heartbeat pounded as she inched her hand closer to the grip. Was this it? Had she already been found out?

The man grunted, breath thick with alcohol. Without a second glance, he shoved past her, knocking her shoulder back.

"Watch where you goin’, or I’ll crush ya."

The man monster didn’t notice her. He didn’t give a flying fuck. He treated her like she was just another nobody in Zaun.

At home, she was untouchable. People practically groveled if they so much as accidentally brushed against her, terrified of what it might mean for their standing, their fortunes, their lives. But here? She was no one.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she liked it.

Tonight, she wasn’t Caitlyn Kiramman, but just another stray in the Undercity.

Vi noticed she was trailing behind and ran back to grab her arm. The sudden contact forced her to let go of the grip she had on her pistol, realizing she had been clutching it the entire time.

“C’mon, I’m starving,” Vi groaned, tugging her forward.

Caitlyn found herself dragged once again to the infamous Jericho’s, much to her own dismay. Vi tried this exact stunt on their first trip together to Zaun, attempting to shove slop down her throat like some deranged crackhead.

Caitlyn firmly refused then, and she was going to refuse now.

What were those things, anyway? Squid? Mutated worms? And didn’t Vi say something concerning healthcare regulations the last time she tried to force feed her this stuff?

Caitlyn shuddered at the memory.

Seated on the same old stool as before, she could do nothing but watch in pure horror as Vi practically inhaled her bowl of mystery tentacles like a starving animal.

"Yew’ve gawtta haf someph," Vi mumbled through a very full mouth.

The woman dangled a dripping, juicy tentacle in front of Caitlyn’s face like a child showing off their favorite toy. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a request. Caitlyn swallowed dryly, her brain working overtime to come up with a valid excuse.

“I’ve got my disguise on. Can’t, sorry. We’ll both die if I do.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Lift it up for a second, chew, swallow. It’s that easy.”

“I know how to eat,” Caitlyn hissed.

Vi grinned without breaking eye contact, deliberately sucking the excess juices from her fingers, her tongue wrapping around her thumb and middle digits.

The glint in her eye, the way her lips parted slightly around her finger. Caitlyn felt a very unfortunate heat creep up her neck.

“Oh, do you?” she purred, wiggling her brows.

Caitlyn was thankful for the fabric covering her face for hiding whatever embarrassing expression she was currently making.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to conceal the way her body reacted. Her already crossed legs tightened just a little more, working its way up to her core.

This wasn’t accidental. Vi was teasing her, and gods, she was doing it well.

The worst part? She knew it. Vi always knew exactly what she was doing, and she was making damn sure Caitlyn knew it too.

But Caitlyn Kiramman was not the type to just sit there and take it.

Her stubbornness wrestled against her own arousal, refusing to let Vi have the upper hand without a fight.

With zero warning, Caitlyn shoved her hand into the bowl, grabbing one of the tentacles. Before Vi could even blink, she pulled her mask down just enough to expose her lips. Deliberately and slowly, she stuck out her tongue.

A challenge.

She placed the delicacy directly onto the flat of her tongue, her stormy blue eyes locking onto Vi’s, filled with something dangerous. Then, without breaking eye contact, she took the entire thing into her mouth in one go.

She chewed, as instructed.

She swallowed, as instructed.

What was good was that Vi was utterly and completely broken.

The bad … well, badish news? This stuff was actually delicious.

Caitlyn braced herself for the worst, expecting a gagging, slimy mess. But instead, she was met with something unexpectedly flavorful, bursting with a richness she never encountered before in Piltover. Had she known it tasted this good, she would have ordered an entire bowl for herself years ago.

She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin before nodding in approval. "Goodness, this is actually quite excellent!"

Vi snapped from her haze and let out a loud belly laugh so crazy that it startled Caitlyn. Before she knew it, she was laughing too.

It was stupid. This wasn’t that funny. But in the moment, it felt like the most hilarious thing in the world. It was as if they were both intoxicated, not by alcohol or the rush of sneaking around where they didn't belong.

No, they were just high on each other.

Caitlyn felt warm again, but this time, it wasn’t from Vi. The disguise was making her feel like she was running out of air with every breath. When the laughter faded, Caitlyn leaned in close just enough for her breath to tickle Vi’s ear.

Her voice was low, raspy, bordering on sultry. "Do you know a place?"

Caitlyn treaded closely behind Vi, watching the way her former lover’s hand hung back for her to make sure she wouldn’t get lost. She didn’t take it. Not yet. But she let her fingers ghost just near enough to feel the warmth of Vi’s skin.

They were moving through an alleyway littered with broken glass and discarded waste. The narrow pathway was totally deserted which made Caitlyn’s instincts itch, but Vi seemed entirely at ease.

She caught a familiar sight strung across old wires … her family’s banners. The Kiramman crest, mockingly placed above heaps of trash.

It was strange. She expected her face to be plastered all over Zaun, but instead her banners were here, loosely draped around this particular district as if someone had put them up deliberately.

Vi came to a halt in front of a flight of rusted stairs. Without a word, she marched upwards and Caitlyn followed behind with cautious steps. As they reached the top, Caitlyn finally took in the building Vi was leading her into.

A motel.

A disgusting, rundown, filthy excuse for a motel.

This? This was where Vi was taking her? Where she had taken how many others before her?

A hundred thoughts raced through Caitlyn’s mind. Was she seriously about to be fucked in some disease ridden cardboard box?

Vi jangled her keys, fumbling with the lock. For a brief second, Caitlyn considered stopping her, suggesting that maybe they should just head back to Piltover to her warm, clean, bed. But before she could so much as part her lips, the door creaked open.

She swallowed.

It was fine.

It couldn’t be that bad.

There weren’t going to be any roaches that she’d have to scrub out of her ass later, right?

The first thing Caitlyn noticed was the smell.

The air was thick with the scent of dried alcohol, the kind that stained the walls and soaked into the furniture … if there even was any. It wasn’t the type of stench that came from a one or two time thing, but the kind that built up over months, maybe even years.

The second thing she noticed was the mess.

Clothes, scattered across the floor. A punching bag, hanging dead center in the small space. Leftover plates on a countertop, some half eaten, others scraped completely clean. Someone definitely stayed here, but not comfortably. It was more like a place someone existed in rather than a place someone lived in.

The third thing.

A Kiramman banner sprawled out across the bed.

Wrinkled. Used.

It wasn’t there as decoration. It had been slept in. Wrapped in. Clutched.

Like a blanket.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, the realization hitting her just as fast as Vi’s body did.

The door barely clicked shut before Caitlyn’s back was pressed up against it, trapped in the limited space between the door and Vi’s muscular frame.

Vi’s mouth latched onto her neck, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses along her pulse, trailing down toward her collarbone. Each kiss was hot, hungry, pulling her in deeper.

This was what she wanted. What they both wanted.

So why did Caitlyn suddenly feel like she was on the verge of crying?

Her hand found the back of Vi’s head, desperate to lose herself in the sensations. Caitlyn had dreamed about this, fantasized about it, imagined Vi touching her like this.

A soft moan escaped her lips as her head tilted back, eyes squeezing shut. She let Vi take charge, let her hands roam, let her consume her.

It felt good.

So fucking good.

Gods.

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped open, her breathing shaky. Her hand shot up, stopping Vi mid motion before she could push this any further. Vi’s eyes flickered with surprise, then confusion. A haze of lust still clouded her face. But beyond that, Caitlyn saw something else.

Hurt.

Caitlyn let out a slow sigh, steadying herself before she spoke. "How long did you stay here for?"

Vi stiffened instantly.

A scoff of frustration left her as she pushed herself away, stepping back just enough to put space between them. She ran a hand through her hair tense with annoyance.

"None of your business."

"Vi, please," Caitlyn pressed, softer this time. "How long?"

No response.

Vi turned away, silent, her shoulders stiff.

But she wasn’t going to let it go.

Caitlyn drifted back to the banner lying wrinkled and used on the bed. "Why do you have my banner here?"

Nothing.

"How much did you drink?"

Silence.

Caitlyn swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper as she asked, "Did it hurt?"

Vi flinched. She knew she had just touched a wound that had never healed.

Just as Caitlyn opened her mouth to press further, Vi exploded. It wasn’t a slow unraveling, it was immediate and violent, like a match tossed onto gasoline.

Vi surged forward again, but this time, it wasn’t desperate or needy, it was hostile.

"Yes, Caitlyn. It hurt."

Her voice shook.

"It hurt when you left me. It hurt when I fucked my body up and then drank it all away again. It hurt when all that I could think of was you, for five hundred and forty seven sunsets and sunrises."

Her breath came ragged, fists clenched at her sides. Vi’s entire body quivered from the weight of everything she had held in for almost two goddamn years.

"It fucking hurt, Caitlyn! It did then, and it still hurts now!"

Caitlyn felt every word hit her like a knife to the gut.

She knew.

She knew she had shattered Vi. Abandoned her. She spent every waking moment justifying her choices, convincing herself it was worth it, but standing here now watching Vi tremble, Caitlyn realized just how deeply she had carved into her.

Vi’s eyes burned, rimmed red with unshed tears. Caitlyn didn’t hesitate, her hands lifted on instinct, cupping Vi’s face gently.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, barely able to force the words out.

Vi’s body froze under Caitlyn’s touch.

And then slowly, she let out a shuddering exhale, her forehead falling forward just enough to brush against Caitlyn’s.

They stood there, breath to breath, heart to heart, in silence.

Caitlyn didn’t know what time it was, didn’t know how long they had been standing like this, didn’t care.

Because right now, there was only this.

Only Vi, her partner, her lover, the woman who had captured her heart and filled it in ways that left room for nobody else.

She could never rewind time, could never erase the damage she had done.

But she could atone.

And she would.

Caitlyn leaned in, her breath hitching as her eyes searched Vi’s. She wasn’t just looking for want, she was looking for understanding, for a tacit confirmation.

Vi’s eyes, once burning with rage, had softened into something gentler. It was like the fire inside her had been extinguished by Caitlyn’s calming waters.

Their lips met at the same time, as if someone counted down to three. It was familiar, yet new. Soft, yet desperate.

Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, fitting together like puzzle pieces long separated, now finally aligned once more.

Caitlyn’s tongue grazed Vi’s teeth, a silent plea for entry. Vi responded with a deep, guttural grunt of approval, her hands gripping Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her in even closer.

Unlike their first kiss from nights ago, restrained and uncertain, this one was messy and ravenous.

Caitlyn was drowning in it.

She pulled away abruptly, her chest heaving, gasping for air. Vi’s bruised lips were wet, a thin trail of saliva connected down her chin.

Vi let out a hoarse chuckle. Caitlyn followed suit, giggling through her panting, her fingers still clinging onto Vi. She bit her lower lip, suppressing the overwhelming want spreading through her body.

"I really missed you," she whispered.

Without hesitation, she plunged back in, closing the gap again.