Vi woke with a sharp, twisting pain low in her abdomen, deep and insistent, like someone had reached inside her and decided to wring her organs out for sport.

She groaned, rolling onto her back, then onto her side. No position helped. The pain pulsed in waves, hot and nauseating, stealing the air from her lungs. Vi clenched her jaw, staring at the ceiling as another cramp hit hard enough to make her hiss through her teeth.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Pain wasn’t new to her. She’d lived with broken ribs, cracked knuckles, bruises that never fully faded. But this, this was different. Mean. Internal. Wrong in a way she couldn’t punch back.

In Stillwater, her body had learned to shut things down. Hunger dulled. Sleep fractured. And her monthly cycle, once an inconvenience she barely had the luxury to notice had vanished entirely. At the time, she’d taken it as a small mercy. One less thing to manage when even washing her hands felt like a victory.

But now?

Now she ate regularly. Slept in real beds. Lived without someone waiting to hurt her for sport. And her body, apparently, had decided to make up for lost time.

With interest.

Vi swung her legs out of bed, another cramp hitting hard enough that she had to brace herself on the canopy post, breath shuddering. That was when she noticed it.

The sheets.

“Shit...no, no, no…”

She froze for half a second, then moved fast, grabbing the edge of the duvet and tugging over  as if that might undo it. Embarrassment flared hot and immediate, curling tight in her chest. She didn’t think, just bolted for the bathroom, snatching a towel and quicklyran some water over it.

The noise woke Caitlyn.

“Vi?” Her voice was thick with sleep, confused. “What’s...?”

Vi didn’t answer. She was already at the mattress scrubbing at the stain with more force than necessary, jaw clenched like she was fighting it personally.

Caitlyn got up a moments later, hair mussed, eyes blinking as she took in the scene.

“Oh,” she said softly, understanding settling in.

Vi scowled. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to...”

“I said don’t.” Vi wrung out the towel aggressively. “I’ve got it.”

Caitlyn stepped closer anyway, reaching out gently. “Vi, love, let me...”

"Don’t..." she blocked her extending her arm out. Cait stopped in her tracks.

"Darling...It’s normal I just..."

Vi snapped her head up. “I don’t fucking care if it’s ‘normal,’” she shot back, heat and humiliation tangled tight in her voice. “I don’t need help.”

Before Caitlyn could say another word, Vi shoved past her and disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming shut with a sharp crack.

The sound echoed.

Caitlyn stood there for a moment, exhaling slowly through her nose. She didn’t follow. She knew better by now.

She turned back to the bed instead, carefully pulling the sheets free, folding them in on themselves. It wasn’t annoyance on her face, just quiet patience, tinged with a familiar sadness she never quite let surface. From the bathroom came the unmistakable sound of running water, Vi moving around sharply, angrily.

Caitlyn paused, the sheets bundled in her arms, listening.

She gave Vi space when she needed it. Always had. Always would.

But she couldn’t help hoping, softly, silently, that one day, Vi wouldn’t feel like she had to face everything alone.

The water ran cold over her hands as Vi scrubbed fiercely at the fabric of her pyjama bottoms, knuckles whitening with the effort. The stain bled out slowly, stubborn, like it was mocking her. She ground her teeth, breath tight in her chest.

Another cramp hit without warning.

“Fuck...”

Her hands slipped on the wet cloth as the pain speared through her, sharp and deep. Vi lurched forward, catching herself on the edge of the sink, arms locked, head hanging low as she rode it out. For a second the world narrowed to nothing but the roar of water and the twisting agony inside her.

And beneath it...fear.

Small, unwelcome, but there all the same.

Caitlyn’s words echoed in her head. For a while now she was trying to get her to the doctor for what she called a regular yearly checkup, but Vi wouldn’t hear of it. She tried explaining gently and patiently, that years of neglect and countless fists to the stomach weren’t things to be ignored. But Vi always found a way to twist the conversation elsewhere, deflecting with a joke, a shrug, anything to avoid it.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut.

Doctors were for people who could afford to be seen. For topsiders. For people whose pain was taken seriously. In Zaun, unless you were bleeding out in the street or pregnant enough to tip over, nobody asked questions. And nobody talked about things like this, not with her anyway.

When the time came years ago, Vander had gone red-faced and awkward, muttering his way through half-remembered basics before pressing a coin into her palm and telling her to get what she needed. That had been it. No follow-ups. No explanations. Just survival.

A quite knock on the bathroom door broke through her thoughts.

“Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice came through the door, hesitant, soft. “May I come in?”

Vi swallowed, shoulders tense. “Yeah,” she muttered.

The door opened slowly.

Caitlyn stepped inside like she was approaching something fragile. Vi didn’t turn. She kept her gaze fixed on the sink, on the steady stream of water, arms still braced as if letting go might make her fall apart.

Without a word, Caitlyn crossed the room and gently slid a small bottle of pain relief across the marble toward her. Thoughtful. Prepared. Always.

Then she turned to leave, just as quietly as she’d come.

Guilt twisted sharper than the cramps.

“Hey...” Vi reached out, fingers closing around Caitlyn’s wrist before she could take another step. She pulled her back, arms wrapping tight around her, forehead pressing into Caitlyn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice rough. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn interrupted softly, immediately, her arms coming up to hold her just as firmly. No hesitation. No resentment.

They stood like that for a moment, breathing together, the tension slowly easing out of Vi’s frame.

After a beat, Caitlyn spoke again, barely above a whisper. “Do you need help?”

Vi closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she murmured, the word so quiet it almost vanished between them, but Caitlyn heard it.


......


While Piltover and Zaun alike were caught up in preparations for Snowdown, lanterns strung, markets buzzing, warmth manufactured through tradition and light, deep beneath it all, Zaun breathed differently.

Far below the streets where even desperation eventually learned to look away, there was a factory so deeply embedded in the lowest veins of the Undercity that it had slipped into obscurity. Forgotten not just by Piltover, but by Zaun itself. No signs marked its existence. No maps acknowledged it. Yet it roared without pause.

The air trembled with the sound of heavy machinery grinding metal against metal. Massive presses slammed down in merciless rhythm, shaking rust from the beams above. Rivers of molten iron glowed white-hot as they were poured into crude molds, the hiss of cooling metal screaming like something alive. Sparks burst and scattered across the floor, briefly illuminating workers’ silhouettes before dying out again. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with smoke, oil, and the bitter tang of burning metal. These were not tools being made. These were weapons, shaped with brutal efficiency, forged in secrecy, destined for hands that didn’t yet know they were waiting for them.

At the very back of the factory, behind the relentless production line, a narrow door led into a small room. Compared to the chaos outside, it almost passed for comfort, if comfort could exist in a place like this.

The walls were plastered with blueprints, layered one over another until the original stone beneath was barely visible. Some were pinned neatly, others curling at the edges, stained with grease and time. Schematics of mechanisms, weapon components, unfamiliar designs, ideas too precise, too intentional to be accidental. A large desk was shoved against one wall, its surface scarred with burn marks and etched lines where rulers and blades had once pressed too hard. There were no windows. Just a single, narrow bed with a thin mattress pushed against the far wall, a small side table beside it, one leg shorter than the others so it wobbled no matter how carefully it was nudged.

Opposite the bed stood a battered sink, enamel chipped and permanently stained. Above it hung a mirror so worn and scratched that it fractured reflections into ghostly fragments. An old wardrobe slumped in the corner, its door hanging slightly crooked, one hinge threatening to give up entirely.

The room was damp, perpetually cold despite the inferno beyond its walls. The stench of the factory seeped in constantly, metal, smoke, sweat, chemicals, there was no escape from it. No ventilation. No fresh air. Just the steady intrusion of fumes that clung to skin and lungs alike.

At the desk sat a young man, hunched forward in concentration. His long dark hair was pulled back into a single braid that fell over one shoulder, practical and tight, woven with care that spoke of habit rather than vanity. His arms were bare, lean muscle wrapped in intricate tattoos that spiraled and flowed along his skin—Ionian in design. Inked patterns of lotus petals and winding currents, symbols of balance and endurance, broken here and there by sharp geometric lines meant to represent discipline, restraint, control. A philosophy etched into flesh.

One side of his head was partially covered by a dirty bandage, the cloth stiff with dried blood that had long since soaked through. He hadn’t bothered to change it.

He was tall and slim, his posture tired but not broken. There was a softness to his face that felt almost out of place here, kind eyes shadowed by exhaustion, a mouth set in quiet determination rather than cruelty. Long fingers held a pen delicately as he worked through calculations, numbers filling the page in tight, precise script. He paused only to cross something out, adjust a figure, then continue again, lost in the work.

The door opened without so much as a knock.

Two heavies filled the doorway first, broad shoulders scraping the frame, boots tracking grime across the floor. Their presence alone shifted the air, but it was the man who followed that truly drained the room of life.

Solan stepped inside.

The factory’s roar seemed to dull around him, as though even the machines knew better than to compete. He moved with unhurried precision, gloves immaculate, coat untouched by the filth that clung to everything else down here. His eyes swept the room once, cool and assessing, taking in the blueprints, the numbers, the half-finished calculations.

Caleb jolted upright so sharply his chair screeched against the concrete.

“S...Sir,” he stammered, turning, heart slamming against his ribs.

Solan smiled.

It was polite. Measured. Empty.

“Caleb,” he said, voice smooth and calm, devoid of warmth. “Working late again.”

Caleb swallowed, nodding. “Yes. I...there’s a lot to finish.”

“So I see.” Solan stepped closer, gloved fingers brushing the edge of the desk as he glanced down at the spread of diagrams. “Which is why I thought I’d check on your progress.”

Caleb’s long fingers tightened around the pen. “I… I’m making headway, but there are limitations. Structural ones.”

Solan tilted his head slightly, listening.

Encouraged, foolishly, Caleb pressed on.

“The tolerances you’re asking for don’t hold under sustained load,” he said quickly. “The materials destabilise at that scale. Heat dispersion alone, there’s no safe way to....” He gestured at the page. “Even if I reinforce the core, the surrounding framework will shear. It’s not a matter of skill, it’s physics.”

A pause.

Solan’s eyes lifted from the desk to Caleb’s face.

“And yet,” he said softly, “you assured me it could be done.”

Caleb’s voice faltered. “I...I believed at the time that....adjustments could be made." he fumbled as his heart thundered in his chest "But the more I calculate, the clearer it becomes that....”

“That you’ve failed,” Solan finished for him, tone still mild.

“I....I’m saying it needs more time,” Caleb insisted, desperation creeping in. “Or different resources. Five more weeks and I might....”

Solan moved.

One moment he stood at the desk; the next his hand was in Caleb’s hair, fingers wrenching his head sideways. Caleb didn’t even have time to cry out before Solan’s grip shifted, pinching, crushing right where his ear used to be.

The scream tore out of him, raw and helpless.

Pain exploded through Caleb’s skull, white and blinding. His legs buckled, his hands clawing uselessly at Solan’s wrist as blood welled hot beneath the pressure, seeping between Solan’s fingers.

The heavies didn’t move.

Solan leaned in, his voice low now, stripped of all pretence. “I am finished listening to excuses.”

Caleb sobbed, the sound strangled, his breath hitching as agony tore through him.

“You have five days,” Solan said, tightening his grip just enough to make Caleb cry out again. “Five. Not six. Not a moment more.”

He released him abruptly.

Caleb collapsed forward over the desk, gasping, one hand flying to his head as blood smeared across the papers beneath him. His vision swam, the room spinning as pain pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

Solan looked down at his own hand in mild distaste.

With a sharp flick, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blood from his glove as though it were nothing more than dirt. He dropped the stained cloth onto the desk beside Caleb’s shaking form.

“I suggest,” Solan said coolly, “you find a way to make the impossible possible.”

He turned and walked out, the heavies falling in behind him, the door closing with a hollow finality.

Caleb stayed hunched over the desk, trembling, fingers pressed desperately to the bleeding wound as the machines roared on around him—indifferent, relentless, counting down the days he had left.

.....

Caitlyn’s study was lit low and warm, the heavy curtains drawn against the winter light outside. Maps, photographs and notes covered the desk and one wall, pinned and layered with careful precision. The air carried the quiet tension of something important about to be said.

They were all there.

Vi leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, jaw set. Nyx stood close to Jorin, their fingers loosely entwined. Gearhand occupied a chair near the back, fingers resting against his knee tapping nervously, eyes sharp and attentive. Anika hovered near the window, arms folded.

Caitlyn stood at the centre of it all.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,”
she began, her tone calm, authoritative.

"Not like we’re mad busy or anything" Nyx snorted.

Cait smiled just a little “As you all know, Vi brought in a smuggler last week. Low-level courier moving components. Specifically… sentry parts.”

Vi nodded once. “I take no credit,  that was all my boys.”

Caitlyn allowed herself the faintest smirk before continuing. “I interrogated him myself.”

Nyx straightened instinctively, ears twitching. “And?”

Caitlyn turned, meeting her gaze directly. “I know where your brother is.”

For a heartbeat, the room froze.

Nyx’s eyes went wide. “What?...” Her voice broke as disbelief slammed into hope. “You fucking kidding me?”

Tears welled, blurring her vision. She turned sharply to Jorin, a breathless, disbelieving smile breaking through as he pulled her into his arms without hesitation, one hand cupping the back of her head, pressing a kiss into her hair.

Caitlyn nodded. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t certain.”

She stepped aside and tapped a finger against the large map pinned to the wall. “Vi was right. They are deep inside Zaun. Lower levels. An abandoned mine system thought to be collapsed decades ago.” Her finger traced downward. “There’s a factory hidden inside it.”

Vi exhaled through her nose. “Knew it.”

“It’s being run by a man named Solan,” Caitlyn continued. “He’s careful. Keeps the operation buried, literally. According to the source, your brother is being held here.” Her finger moved to the back end of the marked structure. “Separated from the main production floor. He is working on some sort of machine.”

Nyx leaned forward, breath shallow, eyes locked on the map. "What sort of machine?"

"He doesn't know."

"Or he developed amnesia." Vi added

Caitlyn reached for another rolled sheet and unfurled it across the desk. “This is the internal layout, rough, as detailed as possible. I reconstructed it from the smuggler’s account and cross-referenced it with old mining records.”

The schematic revealed narrow corridors, production lines, security choke points. A single isolated room at the rear.

Silence fell heavy.

“We’re… we’re getting him out?” Nyx asked, voice barely steady enough to hold the words together.

“Yes,” Caitlyn said firmly. “That is now our primary objective.”

Nyx sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders shaking as relief crashed into her all at once.

"I thought we're going for the lab?" Gearhand asked "Not that your brother isn't important." he turned to Nyx "I'm just confused with the change of plans. I thought you said the factory is off limits for now?"

"And you would be right. I have said that. But this must be our priority now."Cait said "Unfortunately our resources are limited. We have to prioritise."

Caitlyn continued, already moving ahead. “Taking down the entire operation right now would be reckless. This isn’t a single factory problem, it’s part of a larger chain. Suppliers. Buyers. Distribution. I want all of them.”

Gearhand nodded slowly. “Cutting the head too early would scatter the body.”

“Exactly,” Caitlyn said. “But your brother,” she added, looking back to Nyx, “is essential to whatever they’re building. His work is critical to the execution of their plan.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning without him they're screwed.”

“Yes....Without him they stall,” Caitlyn nodded “No engineer, no completion. Extracting him buys us time.”

“And,” Anika added quietly, “he knows things.”

“Yes, good point Anika” Caitlyn agreed. “He holds information we can’t afford to lose. Plans. Timelines. Weak points. Without him, we can’t dismantle this safely or completely.”

Nyx pressed her lips together, nodding fiercely as tears slid down her cheeks. Jorin tightened his hold on her shoulders, grounding her.

“We get him out,” Caitlyn said, voice steady, resolute. “And then we burn the rest of it down properly.”

Caitlyn drew in a slow breath, fingers resting on the edge of the desk as she grounded herself before continuing.

“There’s more,” she said carefully.

The room stilled again.

“The good news,” she went on, “is that we know where he is, who’s holding him, and roughly how the operation functions. That alone puts us several steps ahead.”

Nyx nodded, hope still burning bright in her eyes.

"But there's also a bad news,”

"Of course there is." Vi added sarcastically


Caitlyn continued, her voice hardening, “Even extracting him will be extremely difficult.”

"Why?" Jorin asked

Vi pushed off the desk slightly. “She can’t form a strike team through official channels,” she added bluntly. “Not without risking leaks.”

Caitlyn nodded. “I don’t know who inside my department is clean and who isn’t. If word gets out, Solan will move your brother, or worse.” Her jaw tightened. “And if we walk into a trap, that’s game over.”

“And even if we get him,” Vi continued, pacing now, hands moving as she spoke, “getting out is the real problem. Zaun doesn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for Enforcers as you all know. One wrong move and we’re boxed in.”

She glanced at the map. “This place? It’s a strategic nightmare.”

Caitlyn tapped the marked factory. “Bedrock on three sides. One entry point. One exit.” She looked around the room. “Which means whatever we do has to be fast, precise, and quiet.”

Silence fell.

“We’ll work on the plan together,” Caitlyn said finally. “Safest route in. Fastest route out. No improvisation unless absolutely necessary. I'm not loosing anyone again.” Her gaze sharpened. “And we need people we can trust. Completely.”

“And more manpower,” Vi added. “That place will be crawling.”

"And who exactly did you have in mind? Nyx swallowed. “Good luck with that...I been trying to get someone to help us for months.”

Vi turned her head toward Caitlyn, then said the name without hesitation. “Ekko.”

Gearhand frowned. “Who the hell is Ekko?”

Vi snorted softly. “My brother.”

Nyx blinked. “I didn’t know you had a brother..
I thought they all...” She stopped herself, wincing.

Vi’s expression didn’t harden, but it grew distant. “I had a big extended family.” she looked at Cait across the room. “He’s the only one still breathing.”

Gearhand tilted his head. “And how exactly does your brother help?”

Vi met his gaze. “He leads the Firelights.”

Nyx’s eyes widened. “The Firelights?”

“Yeah,” Vi said simply. “And I wasn’t gonna drag him into this.” She exhaled sharply. “But without him? I don’t think we can pull this off.”

Caitlyn didn’t argue. She only nodded once.

“I’ll go see him,” Vi said. “Talk to him myself.”

Anika shifted forward. “Is there anything I can do?”

Caitlyn hesitated then shook her head gently. “Not this time. I gave Sevika my word. I’m keeping you out of it.”

"But I wanna feel useful."

Vi tilted her head, lips twitching. “You can make us snacks.”

Anika blinked. “Snacks?”

“It’s a long way down to the mines,” Vi continued solemnly. “We’re gonna need fuel. Sandwiches. Possibly emotional support baked into bread form.” she winked with a smirk.

Anika nudged her shoulder with a laugh. “So I’m just the cook now?”

Vi grinned. “Hey. Do not underestimate the power of Zauns brioche.”

Anika laughed smacking Vi’s shoulder with her fist. The tension cracked, just a little.

And for the first time since the meeting began, there was the faintest spark of something that felt like hope.


.....

Vi slipped through the narrow tunnel like she’d done times before, the stone walls familiar beneath her palms. A Firelight walked ahead of her, light-footed, silent, pausing only long enough to signal before pushing the concealed door open.

Cold air rushed out to meet her.

The Fissures always felt unreal the first second you stepped inside, as if Zaun itself had exhaled and hidden this place away on purpose. Children laughed as they chased each other , their voices echoing like music through the cavern. Cloth banners fluttered gently overhead, catching the filtered light from above.

People moved through the space with ease, mechanics bent over workbenches, elders tending small gardens, Firelights weaving between them all with practiced grace. No smog. No grinding machinery. No fear.

Every time, it hit her the same way.

Vi stood there for a moment longer than she meant to, chest tight, wondering just for a heartbeat what her life might have looked like if she and Powder had grown up somewhere like this. Somewhere safe. Somewhere gentle.

Then the thought twisted.

Because if life hadn’t taken what it had… she wouldn’t have what she did now.

A bitter, aching irony. Payment made in blood and loss.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from behind her, light and teasing. “My favourite Piltie.”

Vi turned, and the weight in her chest cracked open.

“Ekko.”

Her face split into a grin so wide it almost hurt. She crossed the space between them in three long strides and wrapped him up in her arms, squeezing him tight, hard enough to make him laugh as he buried his face against her shoulder.

“I thought I was the only Piltie you loved,” she muttered into his hair.

“You got competition now,” Ekko replied, grin audible in his voice as he hugged her back just as fiercely.

They pulled apart slowly, both of them pretending not to notice the shine in each other’s eyes. Since the battle, their time together came in stolen moments, life pulling them in opposite directions, demanding too much from both of them.

Ekko slung an arm around her shoulders as if no time had passed at all. “You know,” he said casually, “you’ve put on weight since you got married.”

Vi froze for half a second, eyes flicking down at herself.

Then she snorted. “And you got way more mouthy than I remember.”

He laughed, full and bright, steering her along.

A little later, they were in his kitchen. A long table sat beneath a window, sunlight filtering down just enough to illuminate a spread of half-finished gadgets. Brass and crystal components, coils of wire, careful sketches pinned to the wall. Some designs were polished and precise, others messy with revisions and crossed-out ideas.

Vi ran her fingers over one of them, careful not to disturb anything. “What’re you working on now, genius?”

“Filter system,” Ekko called from the small kitchen area, where something hissed softly on a burner. “For Zaun.”

He joined her with a cup in each hand, setting one down in front of her. Steam curled upward, rich and bitter.

“I figured out a way to scrub the air at the source,” he continued, leaning against the counter. “Layered filtration, part mechanical, part chemical. It traps the heavier toxins before they spread. Problem is keeping it running without clogging every few days. And powering it without hextech.” He grimaced. “Still working on that part.”

Vi took a sip, eyes warm with pride. “You should talk to Cait. She’d bankroll this in a heartbeat.”

Ekko smiled, shaking his head. “Appreciate it. But I’m okay for now. Gotta make sure it works before I let Piltover get its hands on it.”

He studied her then, really looked at her. “But you’re not here for filters.”

He slid into the chair opposite her, voice softening.

“So,” he said gently. “What’s up, sis?”

......

Vi was already halfway through it before she realized her hands were shaking.

She told him everything from the silver chemical, the parts they seized, all the kidnapping and executions, about Cait’s interrogation and how they attempted to frame her, about Solan, Charoite and how he’d appeared out of nowhere and how everything connected back to the mines. About the factory buried so deep it barely existed on any map anymore. About Nyx’s brother being held there. 

Ekko didn’t interrupt. He leaned in his chair, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, eyes fixed on the floor as he listened. The playful edge he’d greeted her with was gone now, replaced by something sharp and calculating.
By the time Vi finished, she was drained. Saying it all out loud made the weight of it hit her at once, how much had happened, how fast it had piled up. She hadn’t even realised until the words finally left her mouth.

“I’ve heard whispers,” he said finally. “Nothing solid. New name floating around. Chem-barons acting jumpy, moving stock, cutting deals faster than usual.” His jaw tightened. “Shit" he ran his palm over his face, worry edgedon his face "..I thought it was just the usual power shift. Turf wars as usual.”

"Not this time"

He looked up at her. “It sounds like they're planning a takeover"

Vi rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, kinda does.”

Ekko stood, pacing the length of the room. “Zaun could become a crater overnight with that kind of power in one set of hands. We’ve barely cleanedup the fucking streets from Noxian scum. People finally started breathing.” He ran a hand through his hair, braid swinging behind him. “And now this. Every fucking time we build something, someone else comes along to burn it down.”

“I’m sorry… we weren’t sure...”

He stopped short, turning on her so fast she nearly walked into him. “Why the hell didn’t you come to me sooner?”

Vi stiffened. “Ekk...”

“What were you waiting for?” he cut in. “Invasion?”

“Now wait a fucking minute...”

“Don’t give me that shit, Vi.” His voice was sharp, controlled in that way that meant he was holding something back. “I know you. You think you can shoulder everything on your own.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she snapped. “You think this is a game to me?”

“Anything that threatens Zaun is my problem too,” he shot back, voice rising just enough to bite. “My people. My home.”

“It’s my home too.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Not anymore.”

That one landed. Vi scoffed, jaw tightening. “You know what? Go to hell.” She turned to leave.

His hand shot out, gripping her forearm. “You don’t get to decide that, Vi.”

She swallowed, yanking her arm free. “Fine.” Her voice dropped, rough around the edges. “I didn’t wanna get you involved.” She looked away, jaw clenched. “You’ve built something here. People rely on you…” She stopped there. Couldn’t say the rest. Wouldn’t.

Ekko exhaled hard, the anger bleeding into something heavier. “You don’t protect me by shutting me out,” he said more quietly. “That’s not how family works.”

“Well excuse me for fucking caring” she snapped back.

He stared at her, disbelief flashing across his face. “And your life’s just public property now? Is that it? Disposable?” His voice cracked with frustration. “You think I don’t care? Just because I’ve got things at stake doesn’t mean I get to sit this one out.....and you don’t get to decide that for me.” He stepped closer. “You were the one who taught me we watch each other’s backs.”

That hit harder than any punch.

Vi exhaled slowly, unable to look away this time, the fight draining out of her as she just stood there, staring at him

He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’m in,” he said immediately. “Whatever you need. Scouts, maps, distraction, extraction routes, you name it.”

Vi’s chest tightened. Relief and dread tangled together until she couldn’t tell which was winning.

“Ekko…” she started.

She met his eyes, and there it was. The same stubborn fire she’d known since they were kids. The same sharp resolve. The same absolute refusal to back down from a fight once he’d chosen it.

And that scared her more than anything.

Because the one person she wanted to protect most was already standing up, ready to throw himself straight into the fire.

Ekko stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder, firm, steady, grounding.
“You don’t want me in danger. I get that,” he said quietly. “But you don’t get to carry this alone either.” His mouth twitched. “I’m not a kid anymore Vi. Besides…” he tilted his head, eyes gleaming, “…you’re getting older.”

“Heey!!” Vi barked punching his shoulder.

The tension shattered instantly.

Ekko laughed, the sound bright and familiar, and before she could react he pulled her into a hug, arms tight around her shoulders. She held him like he was the only thread that she had left to the life she once had. Amd she was petrified of it snapping befor her eyes

“I swear,I saw a grey hair.” he laughed into her shoulder

“Fuck you!” Vi shoved him back, but then she grinned, wide and real.

Ekko smirked, eyes warm. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like they were kids again, standing in the Lanes, bruised and laughing and ready to take on the world.

And maybe, Vi thought, that was exactly what they were about to do.

.....


Caitlyn knocked once before pushing open the door to her father’s study.

Tobias looked up from his desk, a smile already forming. “Everything all right, Pumpkin?”

“Yes,” she said easily, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Everything’s fine.”

He studied her for a moment, amused. “Then how come you’re still home? I thought you and Vi had already left.”

“Almost,” Caitlyn replied, rocking lightly on her heels. “Vi just got back from the hospital. She went to visit Lance. She’s changing.”

Her fingers drummed against the edge of his desk, betraying her calm words. Tobias noticed, of course. He always did.

She drew in a breath, nerves finally bubbling over. “Did you… have time to think about my question?” She hovered closer, eyes fixed on him, as if willing the answer out of thin air.

Tobias leaned back in his chair. “Your question,” he echoed mildly. “Remind me what that was exactly?” he smirked into the paperwork.

Her smile faltered. “Dad,” she said, a little wounded. “What we talked about. The other day.”

Recognition crossed his face, or so he pretended it did. He went quiet then, thoughtful. Slowly, he set his pen down. Then his glasses, folding them with care before placing them beside the papers.

“Oh. Yes,” he said at last.

Caitlyn straightened instantly, breath caught. Tobias met her gaze, all teasing gone now.

“You are absolutely certain about....?” he began.

“Yes.” The word burst out of her before he could finish. She nodded quickly, almost fiercely. “Yes. Completely. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”

He searched her face for a long moment, weighing something only he could see. Then, without a word, he opened the drawer of his desk.

From inside, he took out a small key and placed it in her palm.

For a heartbeat, she simply stared at it, then she smiled, a breathless, disbelieving little sound leaving her throat uncontrollably. Then she threw her arms around her father. “Thank you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Tobias chuckled, patting her back fondly. “This will be very special, Shan’zoa.” he murmured.

Caitlyn pulled back, still glowing, fingers closing around the key as if it might vanish if she let go.

.....
The sparring room smelled faintly of old leather and polish. Tall windows let in the last grey light of afternoon, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. 

Caitlyn stood opposite Vi, hands raised, shoulders tight. She threw a punch, measured, restrained, already pulling it before it could land. 

Vi didn’t even bother to block it. She just stared at her. 

“What the hell was that?” Vi said flatly. “That was a courtesy tap.” 

Caitlyn frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Vi stepped closer, deliberately lowering her guard. “You won’t. Go again.” 

Cait’s hands clenched. She adjusted her stance, feet shifting the way Vi had drilled into her, body angling instinctively. 

“Again,” Vi said. “And don’t think. Just commit.” 

Cait swung this time, faster. 

Vi blocked it easily, pivoted, and slipped to Cait’s bad side, knuckles tapping sharply against her ribs. Not hard. Just enough. 

“That,” Vi said, releasing her, “is what happens.” 

Cait exhaled sharply, frustration flashing across her face. “I can’t see you when you move there.” 

“I know. That’s why we’re doing this. But you’re hesitating.” 

“I know how to fight, Vi.” 

“I know you do,” Vi replied, stepping closer. “Ambessa didn’t train you to look pretty. That’s not the problem. Stop holding back. We can’t do this if you’re afraid to throw a proper punch. You can’t tell me you hesitated like this with her.” 

“No, of course not,” Cait snapped. “I wanted to smash her face in. I just don’t want to smash yours.” 

“Nah.” Vi grinned, leaning in to peck her lips. “You’re going to punch me a lot more before that happens.” 

“So I’m supposed to punch you properly,” Cait said dryly, “and you’re just going to tap me?” 

“Cait, if I punch you properly, I’ll knock you clean out of Piltover.” 

Cait rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself laughing. 

“Come on,” Vi said, stepping back into position. “Let’s try again. The problem is you’re still fighting like you can see everything.” 

“I’m trying to compensate.” 

“No, you’re reacting,” Vi corrected. “You’re not controlling.” 

“Alright,” Cait said, breath steadying. “So how do I control it?” 

“You don’t square up anymore,” Vi said, sharp but patient. “You cheat the angle. Make them come at you where you can see. Force them onto your good side.” 

“Easier said than done,” Cait muttered, shifting into a defensive stance, her blind side tight, uncertain. 

“You’ll be fine,” Vi said, rolling her neck and cracking her knuckles. “You just need to get used to it. Same drill.” 

Cait took a breath. “Fine. But if I’m not sparing you, then don’t spare me either. I need to crack this, Vi. I can’t have you guarding my back all the time.” 

Vi’s grin softened, pride flickering behind it. “That’s my girl.” 

They went again. 

Cait moved faster now, no hesitation, no apology in her strikes but she was still chasing Vi, reacting instead of leading. Vi slipped past her, redirected her, tapped her shoulder, her ribs, her back. “Again.” 

Cait adjusted. 

“Again.” 

She forced the angle this time, stepping deliberately, steering Vi where she could track her. It almost worked, almost. 

Vi slipped past her once more. 

Cait exhaled sharply. “This is extraordinarily irritating.” 

“Again,” Vi said, breathing harder now. “You’re close.” 

Cait growled, frustration sharpening into focus. She moved, really moved cutting the space, cheating the angle exactly like Vi had said. 

Vi stepped in and Cait’s fist connected hard enough Vi’s head snapped to the side with a solid crack. 

There was a beat of stunned silence. 

“Oh...!” Caitlyn gasped, eyes wide. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She was on her instantly, hands on Vi’s face, practically vibrating. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, are you alright?" She murmured kissing her cheek" didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” 

Vi blinked, then laughed. “Holy shit,” she said, rubbing her jaw. “You did it.” 

“I did it!” she laughed. “I actually did it!” 

Vi grinned, eyes bright, adrenaline buzzing. “Yeah. And you nearly knocked me into next week.” 

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” 

“Oh, absolutely not,” Vi said, pulling her in.

Cait giggled into the kiss.


....

With the holidays fast approaching and the strike on the factory looming closer by the day, time began to blur. Days melted into one another until it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began.

Caitlyn’s study had transformed into something closer to a wartime headquarters. Maps were pinned over maps, red string crisscrossing photographs and hand-drawn layouts. Notes crowded every surface. Candles burned low into the night as plans were argued, revised, dismantled, and rebuilt again. Voices dropped to murmurs long after the city slept.

Elara often fell asleep on the sofa, boots still on, curled around a cushion while the others worked on, no one having the heart to wake her.

Days were just as relentless. Caitlyn spent hours drilling Nyx at the range, correcting her stance with calm precision, patient but unyielding. Vi, meanwhile, brushed the rust off everyone’s fighting skills, sparring until muscles screamed and knuckles bruised. Again and again, they ran scenarios, covered angles, assumed nothing, trusted no luck.

Moments alone were rare for Cait and Vi. Most nights, exhaustion won. They’d collapse wherever they were, spooned together in bed or tangled up on the study sofa, too tired even to talk, just breathing each other in.

But today, Caitlyn had other plans.
Morning light filled the dining room as everyone gathered around the table. Plates clinked softly, the smell of coffee and fresh bread cutting through the tension that had become a constant background hum.

Vi was already up and dressed, jacket on, gloves tucked into her belt.

“Go on ahead,” Caitlyn told her lightly. “I’ll meet you at the station. I’ve got something to take care of first.”

“Mm?” Vi didn’t question it. She grabbed a cinnamon roll from the table, took a hurried bite, then leaned down and kissed Caitlyn, quick but warm. Cait tilted her head instinctively, already waiting for it, smiling into the kiss.

Elara looked up. “Training after work?”

“Not today, kiddo,” Vi said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Too much going on.”

Elara scrunched her face in disappointment.

Vi waved to everyone and was out the door in seconds.

Nyx yawned massively, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know where she gets that kind of energy this early.” She reached for another piece of toast.

“Three more days,” Gearhand muttered around his mug.

Nyx froze. “I don’t know whether to be excited or absolutely horrified.”

“Three more days,” Caitlyn echoed, quieter but steady.

Jorin leaned back in his chair. “Statistically speaking, how plausible is us failing?”

Gearhand shrugged. “About as plausible as the sun coming up tomorrow.”

Caitlyn frowned. “Could we be… more positive?”

“Thank you,” Nyx said, pointing at her. “At least someone at this table believes in us.”

“Or wants to,” Gearhand added.

A bagel flew in his direction.

He ducked just in time as it smacked into the wall behind him.

Nyx burst out laughing looking at Cait. “Your ancestors would be mortified by your table manners.”

Jorin smirked. “Vi’s rubbing off on her.”

Caitlyn folded her arms, lips twitching despite herself. "Consider it my target practice"

For a moment, just a moment, it almost felt almost as a normal day.

......

Piltover’s Station hummed with its usual rhythm, boots on polished floors, clipped voices, the low mechanical sigh of lifts coming and going. Caitlyn’s office, however, felt momentarily insulated from it all, the door shut, the world held at bay.

Vi stood near the desk, arms crossed, posture already keyed for movement.
“I’m heading down to the Undercity,” she said. “Weapons dealer. I’ll catalogue everything, parts, shipments, contacts. The whole mess.”

Caitlyn looked up from her papers, concern flickering across her face. “Are you alright doing that?”

Vi’s mouth curved into something sharp and determined. “With pleasure.” She stepped closer, leaning her knuckles against the desk. “I’m gonna tear that place to pieces. And then I’m gonna find that fucker.”

Cait’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She knew that tone. Instead, she stood.

Vi closed the distance in two strides, wrapping her arms around Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her in until their bodies fit together like they always did. Her voice softened. “I was thinking… maybe tonight we keep it just us. No war plans. No work. Just...you and me.”

Caitlyn’s expression melted instantly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

She exhaled, the sound long and tired, and let her forehead drop against Vi’s shoulder. Her hands slid over Vi’s arms, slow, grounding. “I need to take a breath.”

“Yeah,” Vi murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. “We all do.”

She tilted Caitlyn’s chin up and kissed her properly, gentle, lingering, a promise more than anything else.

“I should go,” Vi said quietly.

Caitlyn nodded, reluctant but understanding. “Seven?”

Vi was already backing toward the door, grin returning as she hooked her jacket over her shoulder. She winked.
“Seven’s perfect.”

And then she was gone, leaving Caitlyn standing in the quiet office, heart steadier than it had been all day.

........

Today Zaun smelled different. Not the usual mix of oil, rot, and fumes, this place carried something colder, metallic, long dried but never gone. The apartment sat half-forgotten, its door hanging crooked on busted hinges. No lights. No movement. Just silence thick enough to press against the ribs.

Vi went in first, habit more than authority.
The room was small. Too small. A threadbare rug lay crooked across the floor, its once-patterned surface darkened by a wide, uneven stain. Lance's blood. Old now, soaked deep into the fibres, turned brown at the edges like rust.

Vi stopped. Her boots didn’t move. Her chest didn’t either, not properly. The noise of the world narrowed to a high, thin ring in her ears as something ugly and sharp curled behind her sternum. Lance’s laugh flashed through her mind, uninvited. The weight of his body when he’d gone down. The sound of his voice.

“Boss?”

One of the Enforcers was talking, she could see his mouth move but the words slid past her like smoke. The room felt suddenly wrong, like it was tilting, the walls leaning in. Her hands tingled, fingers flexing inside her gloves as if they didn’t belong to her anymore. For a split second, she wasn’t here. She was back in another room, another floor, another moment where blood meant failure.

Then a hand landed on her shoulder.

Not heavy. Not commanding.

“Boss?” Darren’s voice, low and steady, right by her ear.

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders jerking as if she’d been hit. The ringing cut off. The room snapped back into focus, the peeling paint, the cracked window, the smell. 

"You alright?" Hhe asked gently 

"Yap...I'm fine" 

"Where do you want us to start?" 

“I don’t care,” she said too fast, too rough. “Just tear it apart.”

Her gaze stayed locked on the rug a second longer than necessary before she turned away, fists clenched hard enough to hurt. She paced the room, forcing motion into her body like it might shake the feeling loose.

Because standing still meant remembering.

......

At the same time, far above Zaun’s damp shadows, Piltover sat bathed in quiet winter light.

Jorin knocked once on the door to Tobias Kiramman’s study.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked through the wood.

“Always,” Tobias replied at once. “Come in.”

The study smelled faintly of old paper and polish. Tobias gestured toward the chair opposite his desk as Jorin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t sit immediately. Instead, he approached the desk, a slim folder tucked under his arm, fingers tight around its edge.

“I wanted to talk to you about the budget for the school renovation,” Jorin said.

Tobias straightened, a flicker of genuine relief crossing his face. “Oh, you’ve had time to look at it?”

“Yes,” Jorin nodded. “But there are some things we need to discuss.”

Something in his tone made Tobias pause. Jorin placed the folder on the desk and opened it carefully, as if choosing his words with the same precision he chose his tools.

“This budget,” he continued, “it isn’t realistic.”

Tobias frowned slightly. “Not realistic how?”

Jorin slid one of the pages forward. “I don’t know where these quotes came from, but they’re significantly over market price. Take the structural timber here, this grade, in this quantity, shouldn’t cost anywhere near what’s listed. Even accounting for Piltover suppliers.”

He flipped another page.

“Stonework, too. They’re charging premium rates for standard-cut masonry. No specialist labour required, no custom shaping. I’ve done projects twice the size of the school for less.”

Tobias leaned in now, attention fully caught.

“And this,” Jorin said, tapping the paper with a calloused finger, “fixtures and fittings. Overpriced by at least thirty percent. Same with the glazing. These aren’t rare materials. There’s no shortage, no rush order. The numbers don’t add up.”
He hesitated, then met Tobias’s eyes directly.

“I’ve been in construction my whole life. I know what things cost. And as the new foreman, it’s my responsibility to say something when I see a problem, especially when it looks like someone’s taking advantage.”

Tobias’s expression shifted, concern replacing confusion. “So what you're saying...”

“I’m saying you’re being taken for a fool,” Jorin said plainly, but without malice. “These suppliers are padding the bill. Trying to squeeze extra coin because they think they can.”

He straightened, hands folding behind his back.

“I won’t just go along with it, sir. Not when it’s your money, and not when it’s a project meant to benefit the Undercity. You deserve fair numbers and honest ones.”
Tobias leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes never leaving Jorin’s face.
“Thank you,” Tobias said at last. “I’m glad you brought this to me. I really appreciate your honesty.”

“I had to, sir.” He glanced down at the open folder, then back up again, voice steady but edged with something more personal now.

“You and your family opened your door to me and Nyx when we had nowhere stable to land. Not to mention qll these other people staying  in your house. You trusted me with work, with responsibility. You’ve treated all of us with nothing but fairness and kindness since the day we arrived.” His jaw tightened slightly. “I won’t stand by and let anyone shaft you because they think you won’t notice.”

Tobias’s mouth curved into a small, genuine smile. “I knew I made the right choice when I hired you.”

“I’m a builder,” Jorin continued. “My job isn’t just to make sure walls stand straight. It’s to make sure people don’t get cheated in the process.”

For a moment, Tobias studied him in silence, as if weighing something, and then he nodded once, decision made.

“Would you come with me,” he asked, “to speak to the suppliers directly?”

Jorin didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Tobias said, already rising from his chair. “I’d rather have someone at my side who actually knows what these numbers mean.”

Jorin closed the folder and tucked it under his arm again. “They’ll try to talk circles around you,” he warned calmly. “But they won’t get far.”

Tobias chuckled under his breath. “I have a feeling they won’t.”

.....

Down in the Undercity the Enforcers spread out, drawers pulled open, floorboards pried up, crates dragged into the weak light. The room slowly filled with the sound of methodical disruption, metal clinking, paper rustling, the scrape of boots against concrete.

Vi was mid cataloguing the endless amount of illegal weaponry. Her hands busy with taking bagging, tagging and cataloging when the door squeaked.

Her head snapped up instantly, body going taut. But it wasn’t an intruder.

Caitlyn stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hall, coat buttoned neatly, hair pulled back with infuriating composure for someone standing in the Lanes.

Vi let out a slow breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “Cait"

Cait chuckled softly. “There are Enforcers at the door, remember?”

Behind Vi, Darren straightened. “Afternoon, Sheriff,” he said brightly, giving a small nod. “Didn’t expect to see you down here.”

“Good afternoon,” Caitlyn replied pleasantly.

Vi caught herself, felt the tension in her shoulders easing, the instinctive relief and scowled, immediately annoyed at her own reaction. She pushed off the table.

“What the hell are you doing in the Lanes?”

Cait stepped inside as if she belonged there, fingertips brushing lightly over the scarred wooden table as she passed. “I grew rather bored of the desk job at the station,” she said calmly stopping in front of Vi and reached up, straightening the crooked collar of her jacket with quiet familiarity. “And I thought I might be more useful on the field.”

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Vi’s lips.

Vi blinked. “You walked all the way down here?”

Caitlyn smiled. “No. I took my father’s car.”

Vi stared at her. “Does your dad know about this?”

Cait’s smile widened, entirely unapologetic. “He does now.”

Vi huffed a laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “Look at you, turning into a rebel.”

“I try,” Cait said lightly. Then, her tone shifted, professional, focused. “How is it going?”

Vi sobered, gesturing around the room. “There’s a whole arsenal in here. Hidden compartments, false walls, crates we haven’t even opened yet. It’s gonna take weeks to catalogue everything.”

As if summoned by the word arsenal, Darren bounced over, beaming, holding up two grenades like trophies.

“We’ve got all sorts of things here,” he announced cheerfully.

Vi snapped her head towards him. “Darren!”

“Yeah?”

“If you value your fingers you will put those down very carefully.”

Darren glanced at the grenades. “Oh.”

He gently set them back on the table, hands lifting away as if they might explode out of spite.

Caitlyn watched the exchange with barely contained amusement. “I see things are proceeding… efficiently.”

Vi snorted. “That’s one word for it.”
For a moment, amid the chaos and the old ghosts soaked into the floor, the room felt steadier for Vi, less heavy and felt something in her chest unclench.

......

An hour later the apartment looked nothing like it had when they’d arrived.

Evidence bags lined the table. Crates sat open and half-emptied, their contents tagged and catalogued. The air smelled faintly of metal, dust.

Caitlyn moved methodically, gloved hands precise as she lifted items from one of the boxes pulled down from the higher shelves. Most of it was predictable, documents, parts, ledgers.

Then she paused.

Nestled between wrapped components was a small framed photograph.

She picked it up, studying it closely. Two men stood shoulder to shoulder in the picture, arms slung around each other’s backs. One smiled openly at the camera. The other looked more reserved, but not unfriendly. Caitlyn frowned slightly.

“Darren,” she said, turning her head. “Where did you find this?”

He looked up from sealing a bag. “Top shelf,” he replied, pointing with his chin. “There’s more. Other box over there. Vi thought they might be useful.”

Caitlyn set the photo down carefully and reached for the second box. Sure enough, there were more frames inside, similar photos, same two men, different places. Casual. Personal. Not the sort of thing most weapons dealers bothered to keep.

She sifted deeper, fingers brushing against something smaller.

Leather.

She pulled it free, a compact, worn ID holder, the edges softened with age and handling. Caitlyn’s focus sharpened immediately as she opened it.

“Alright!” Vi’s voice rang out far too cheerfully for a crime scene. “Who's hungry?”

She burst in carrying several grease-stained paper bags, the smell hitting the room instantly, fried, spicy.

"Not Jericho’s again?" Darren huffed

“The best damn food in the city,” Vi added proudly.

Darren groaned. “Can’t you ever find somewhere that doesn’t actively shorten your lifespan?”

Vi stopped dead, stared at him, then slammed one of the bags straight into his chest. “Eat it and shut up.”

He caught it by reflex. “I...right. Thanks, Boss.” he peered inside the bag "I guess"

Vi grinned, already tossing another bag onto the table.

Caitlyn looked up. “Vi.”

Vi turned. “Yeah, Cupcake?”

“I know who this man is.”

Vi froze. “What man?”

Caitlyn lifted the photograph slightly, then the open ID beside it. “The weapons dealer.”

Vi blinked. “You know a weapons dealer from Zaun?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Or rather… I know of him.”

Caitlyn drew a slow breath, eyes still on the photograph.

“His name is Alistair Vayne.”

Vi frowned slightly. “Vayne?”

“Yes,” Cait said. “Piltover-born. He worked in the Enforcers armaments division, engineering and maintenance. He wasn’t a field officer. He designed and calibrated equipment. Firearms, restraint tech, specialised munitions.”

She glanced down at the ID again, thumb brushing the worn leather. “This was years ago. I was still at the Academy.”

Vi straightened, interest piqued. “So… what’s a Piltover engineer doing running guns in Zaun?”

Cait’s mouth tightened. “He was caught smuggling...Internal investigation,” Cait continued. “Unregistered components disappearing from inventory. At first it looked like clerical error. Then patterns emerged.” She looked up. “He was supplying black-market buyers. Not in bulk at first, small quantities. Hard to trace.”

“And he got away?” Vi asked.

“He was charged,” Cait said. “But before the trial, he vanished. Slipped through the cracks. No body. No trail. Officially listed as missing.”

“I suppose now we know where he went.” Vi huffed a short, humourless laugh. “Guess Piltover didn’t lose him after all. Just… outsourced him.”

Cait met her eyes. “This changes things.”

“Yeah,” Vi said slowly, gaze flicking back to the boxes of weapons. “Means this wasn’t just some Zaunite dealer with scraps and connections.”

.....


They worked quickly after that, hauling the last of the evidence into the hall and down the narrow stairs toward Caitlyn’s car. The boxes were heavy, metal, paperwork, weapons packed tight. The Enforcers transport was packed out and already left the Undercity and now Caitlyn’s car served as the overflow.

Vi passed of the boxes to Darren with a grunt. “Careful. That one’s dense.”

Darren staggered a bit under the weight. “Car’s already full, Boss.”

“Then put it up front,”

"I have, there’s no room left."

“Shit...Tell you what...put it under her legs.” Vi said easily.

Caitlyn shot her a look. “Excuse me?”

“You got long legs." Vi shrugged grinning,

"How on earth am I supposed to drive like that Vi?"

"Chill out...You’ll manage.”

"Mmmmh" Cait rolled her eyes getting back to her notebook

Darren muttered something under his breath and hauled the box outside, boots crunching on the thin sheet of ice that had formed along the lane.

Back inside, Vi and Cait did one last sweep of the apartment, open drawers, empty shelves, tags checked and double-checked.

“Everything accounted for,” Cait said, closing her notebook.

“Good ...Let’s go.”

Outside, Darren wrestled with the front passenger door, trying to wedge the box between the seat and the dashboard.

“Come on… come on…” he muttered, pushing the seat back. The lever resisted.

He yanked it harder.

The seat jerked.

So did his footing.

“Shit..., NO!”

His boot slipped on the ice. He fell sideways, straight onto the handbrake.

The lever released with a sharp click.

The car began to roll.

“No—NO—NO—!”

Darren scrambled, grabbing for the door, half-hanging, half-running as the car picked up speed down the narrow Zaunite lane.

“BOSS...!” he screamed

Vi and Cait burst out of the house just in time to see Caitlyn’s car, Caitlyn’s pristine, absurdly expensive car, rolling freely downhill.

"What the fuck?..." Vi gasped and before she took another breath the car slammed straight into the corner of a house, metal shrieking, glass shattering.

Silence.

Caitlyn stared. Her face drained of colour so fast it was almost impressive.

“Shit” she breathed faintly.

Vi stood frozen beside her, mouth slightly open.
Caitlyn pressed a hand to her forehead. “My father's going to kill me.”

Vi blinked. “That was your dad’s car.”

“Yes,” Cait said weakly. “Yes, Vi. Thank you for confirming.”

Darren staggered back into view, unharmed but pale, staring at the wreck. ”Sheriff....Ammmm...I'm so sorry I slipped...but good news...It’s just a scratch."

“Darren!!! If you say the words ‘good news’ again...I will personally arrest you.” she screamed

Vi slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey. Look at it this way...At least we bagged the evidence before the car escaped Zaun.”

Cait huffed unimpressed.

"Boss" Darren raised a tentative hand. “So… do I still put the box in the front seat?”

“Darren,” Vi and Cait said together.

“…I’ll carry it,” he squeaked, retreating immediately.

Vi shook her head, still stunned. “Today just keeps getting better.”

Cait sighed. “I need a drink. And a very good explanation.”

.....

That evening the salon had been transformed into something almost dreamlike.

The fire crackled low and steady in the hearth, casting warm amber light that danced across polished wood and velvet drapes. Somewhere in the corner, the gramophone hummed softly, a mellow melody winding through the room like a held breath. The household staff had outdone themselves, just a small round table set for two, draped in linen, candles flickering between wine glasses that caught the light every time either of them moved.

Caitlyn looked like she belonged to the glow.

The burgundy gown clung to her like it had been designed with intention rather than fabric, the gold embellishments catching the firelight as the neckline dipped just enough to make Vi forget entire sentences. Her hair was pinned back in a neat chignon, a delicate hair comb nestled within it, old, elegant, unmistakably Kiramman. Ruby earrings glinted at her ears every time she laughed.

Vi cleaned up well too, even if she’d pretend otherwise. Her suit echoed Caitlyn’s colours, deep and rich, the gold trim sharp against the dark fabric. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to look deliberate, the tie abandoned entirely. Relaxed. Confident. Dangerous in that effortless way Cait pretended not to notice but it stole her breath away each time.

They laughed over dinner, quiet and easy, sharing looks between bites like private jokes no one else would ever understand. It was rare, no plans, no crises, no weight pressing in from the world outside Piltover’s walls, for this one single evening it was just the two of them.

When the plates were cleared, Vi leaned back in her chair, wine glass lifted lazily in one hand. Her other stayed on the table, fingers threaded with Caitlyn’s. She traced idle patterns over Cait’s knuckles, brushing her thumb along familiar skin, grounding herself in the moment.

The laughter faded into a comfortable silence.

Then Caitlyn gently slipped her hand away.

Vi blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden absence. “Hey..” she started, only to stop when Caitlyn stood.

“As a matter of fact,” Caitlyn said casually “I was going to ask you something.”

She turned and walked toward the desk across the room, the hem of her gown whispering against the floor as she opened a drawer and took something out.

Vi watched, brows knitting. “…Oookay?”

Caitlyn returned without answering, took Vi’s hand firmly, and pulled her up from the chair before she could properly protest.

Vi laughed, already being maneuvered.

Before she could get her bearings, Caitlyn sat her back down, this time turned to face her properly.

Vi stared up at her, completely lost, hands half-raised like she’d just been repositioned by an invisible force. “You know,” she said, squinting up at Caitlyn with a grin, “I feel like I should be at least emotionally prepared for whatever the hell this is.”

Then Caitlyn turned her back on her.

Vi blinked.

“…Should I be... doing something?” she asked carefully, brows knitting as she shifted in the chair. “Am I supposed to sign paperwork? Blink twice if I’m in danger.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She was staring down at the small box in her hands, shoulders rising with a slow, steady breath. One more inhale. One more moment of courage. Then she turned around.

And launched straight into it.

“You see,” Caitlyn began, hands immediately betraying her nerves as they started moving, fingers tapping together, palms opening and closing like she was physically arranging her thoughts in the air, “there comes a time in every person’s life when one must reflect upon their future and make a conscious decision about where they see themselves, and....more importantly, how they see themselves within the broader framework of...”

Vi’s face went completely blank.

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

Caitlyn kept going.

“And when my mother and father met,” she continued, nodding to herself, “they both said they knew. Instantly. Like a certainty. A...ah....statistical improbability, really, but still...”

She froze mid-sentence looking at Vi’s stunned expression.

“Oh...! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she blurted suddenly, eyes wide. “I know your parents are gone, I wasn’t implying...”

“You’re not,” Vi cut in quickly, frowning. “Cait, it’s fine, I just....can I..m?”

But Caitlyn was already past the point of stopping. She took Vi’s hand and placed something into her palm.

“Violet,” she said, voice trembling but determined, “will you be my partner in this world and the next one?”

Vi looked down.

Her brain left the room.

Two rings stared back at her from the box in her hand.

Her eyes widened so far they might never recover. Her mouth twisted, fingers curling slightly around the box like it might disappear if she didn’t hold on tight.

Caitlyn watched her face and immediately panicked.

“Vi?” she said, horrified. “Pleae say something?”

Vi finally inhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck. “I...actually...Shit. Cait… we need to talk.”

“What?” Caitlyn squeaked. “What do you mean talk? I thought...”

“No...wait...that’s not....” Vi reached for her, hands out like she was trying to physically catch the moment before it exploded.

Too late.

“I thought this was what you wanted!” Caitlyn burst out, pacing now, hands flying. “Talk about it? I don’t believe this. After everything we’ve been through...”

“Cait, wait...”

“Is this about oil and water, because if it's again...” Caitlyn snapped, spinning on her heel.

“…What?” Vi blinked. “No? How did we get there?”

But Caitlyn was already spiraling.

“Because actually Violet, oil and water do mix,” she said rapidly, pointing an accusing finger at the air. “You just need an emulsifier.”

Vi stared. “What?”

“SOAP,” Caitlyn shouted. “Oil and water, Violet!”

"Oh for fuck sake!" That was it.

Vi crossed the room in three long strides and slammed her hand over Caitlyn’s mouth, backing her into the bookshelf with a solid thump.

“Cait,” Vi growled, breathless, “just shut the fuck up.”

Caitlyn froze, eyes enormous over Vi’s palm.

Vi exhaled. Slowly she removed her hand. Reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box.

“I was gonna ask you first,” she said, voice rough but steady now. “Will you fucking marry me, Cupcake?”

Silence.

Caitlyn stared down at the ring.

It was nothing like the polished Kiramman heirlooms locked away in velvet-lined drawers. The band was simple in it's beauty. Two bands intertwined together ingraved with vines and leaves, a simple but powerful meaning of two souls bound in the infinity.

Her breath caught.

She lifted her eyes to Vi’s.

Vi swallowed hard, throat bobbing, shoulders tense like she was braced for impact. For once, she had no smart remark ready, no shield of sarcasm. Just raw hope, wide and unguarded.

Caitlyn didn’t let her say a word.

She stepped forward, hands coming up to cradle Vi’s face, thumbs warm against her cheeks, and kissed her.

Hard. Certain. All the nervous rambling, all the spiraling thoughts, gone in an instant.

Vi didn’t hesitate. Her hand slid up to cup Caitlyn’s jaw, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck as she pulled her closer, deepening the kiss until it swallowed them both. It was all heat and relief and finally, the world narrowing down to this, just them, breathless and laughing softly into each other’s mouths.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, Vi was grinning like an idiot, eyes shining.

“So,” she murmured, voice low and hopeful, “is that a yes?”

......

They were tangled together beneath the covers, limbs warm and lazy, the kind of closeness that came only after the world had finally gone quiet. Caitlyn lay half on top of Vi, their foreheads touching, breath mingling as soft laughter bubbled up between them for no real reason at all.

“I still can’t believe it,” Caitlyn said, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “The moment you said ‘we need to talk,’ I swear my heart just...” she made a dramatic slicing motion with her hand. “I nearly screamed.”

Vi snorted, pressing a kiss to the corner of Cait’s mouth. “You went full disaster spiral.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You brought up oil and water.”

Cait groaned, burying her face against Vi’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

Vi laughed, the sound vibrating through her chest. “I was so confused. Like...how the hell did you even get there?”

“I panicked,” Cait admitted, muffled.

Vi tilted her chin gently, coaxing her to look up. “Panicked about what?”

Caitlyn hesitated. Her fingers traced absent circles on Vi’s chest, then slowed. “That… maybe you don’t feel like you fit,” she said quietly. “Into all of this.”

Vi didn’t interrupt. She just watched her, thumb brushing along Caitlyn’s arm.

“The job. The uniform. The endless parties,” Cait continued softly. “You never complain, but I see it. I see how hard you try.”

Vi smiled, fond and crooked. “You forgot the servants.”

Cait blinked, then giggled. “Wilks.”

Vi straightened a little and put on her best imitation. “‘Good morning, Miss Vi,’” she said stiffly, prim and perfect.

Cait burst out laughing, collapsing against her. “That is unfairly accurate.”

Their laughter faded into quiet smiles, noses brushing, a kiss exchanged without either of them really deciding to start it. It lingered, soft, warm, familiar.

“It was hard,” Vi admitted at last, voice lower now. “Still is. Probably always will be, at least a bit.” She shrugged faintly. “Some things I’ll never really get used to.”

Cait’s breath hitched, just a little.

“But,” Vi added, eyes steady and certain, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here. With you.”

For a heartbeat, Cait just stared at her.

Then she kissed her, hard, sudden, all the feeling she’d been holding back pouring into it. Vi responded instantly, hands sliding up Caitlyn’s back, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, unhurried but full.

Cait shifted without breaking it, straddling Vi’s hips, her arms draping over her shoulders as she leaned down into her. Vi’s hands settled at her waist, thumbs brushing along familiar lines, grounding, loving. She smiled into her lips, teasing and playful before crushing their lips together.

They kissed like that for a long moment, no rush, no need for words, just the quiet certainty that whatever worlds they came from, whatever chaos waited outside these walls, this was where they chose to be.

Together.

The dim light of the Piltover cast long shadows across the room, painting the walls in hues of deep blue and soft gold. The city’s distant hum was a forgotten melody, drowned out by the ragged sound of breathing and the frantic beat of two hearts.

Vi lay back against the pillows, her usual smirk replaced by an expression of raw, unguarded awe. Her hands, which had been tangled in Caitlyn’s hair, now rested on her hips, fingers digging slightly into the soft skin. Caitlyn was a vision above her, her face flushed, there was a hunger behind her eyes that mirrored Vi’s own.

With a fluid, deliberate motion, Caitlyn shifted, swinging one leg over Vi to straddle her hips. The new position sent a jolt through them both, a delicious friction that made Vi gasp softly into the sudden space between them. Caitlyn didn’t give her time to recover. She leaned in, her body a taut line of muscle and intent, and captured Vi’s lips in a searing kiss, desperate, claiming.

Vi’s hands roamed up Caitlyn’s back, pulling her closer, needing to eliminate every last inch of space between them. Caitlyn’s fingers tangled in Vi’s pink hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, her tongue tracing the seam of Vi’s lips before delving inside to taste and explore. They kissed until they were breathless.

Then, Caitlyn broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down at her. Her chest heaved, her lips swollen and glistening. A slow, confident smile touched her mouth as she braced her hands on Vi’s shoulders, applying a gentle but firm pressure. Vi allowed herself to be pushed back into the plush pillows, her body pliant and willing. Caitlyn adjusted herself with a subtle shift of her weight, settling more firmly against Vi, her knees digging into the mattress.

The world narrowed to the space they occupied. Caitlyn held Vi’s gaze for a moment longer, her eyes burning with an intensity that stole the air from Vi’s lungs. Then, she began to move.

She started with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, a torturous, grinding motion that pressed her core against Vi’s. The friction was exquisite, a wave of heat that pulsed through Vi’s entire body. A choked moan escaped her lips, her hands flying to Caitlyn’s thighs, gripping them tightly as if to anchor herself. Caitlyn set a rhythm, a languid, sensual circle that built a fire deep within Vi’s belly.

As Vi’s head fell back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut, Caitlyn watched, utterly captivated. She watched the way Vi’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way her lips parted to release soft, breathless pants. She saw the flicker of pure, unadulterated pleasure that crossed her face, a look so open and vulnerable it made Caitlyn’s heart ache. This was her Vi, stripped of all her defenses, lost in the feeling. This was her future wife, and the sight was the most beautiful thing Caitlyn had ever seen.

Leaning down, Caitlyn captured Vi’s lips again, this time in a softer, deeper kiss that spoke of reverence and adoration. She poured all of her love into it, a silent promise of forever. When she pulled back, she saw Vi’s eyes were still closed, a blissful, trusting smile gracing her features. Caitlyn’s own smile was tender as she shifted her weight, moving one hand from Vi’s shoulder. She found Vi’s hand, which was clutching at the pillow beside her head, and laced their fingers together, pressing them into the soft fabric. It was a grounding gesture, a connection that went beyond the physical.

She resumed her rhythm, the slow, hypnotic roll of her hips never ceasing. She watched, mesmerized, as Vi’s breathing grew more ragged, as small whimpers escaped her throat. She leaned down again, pressing a kiss to Vi’s temple, then to her jawline, tasting the salt of her sweat. "Let me see you fly" she whispered into her lips.

"Cait..." Vi breathed out, the name a broken, desperate sound. It was all the encouragement Caitlyn needed. She tightened her hold on Vi’s hand, her other palm braced against Vi’s shoulder, increasing the pressure just enough. Caitlyn watched as Vi’s back arched from the bed, felt the way her body followed the rhythm instinctively, chasing the same crest of sensation. Vi’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry as release overtook her.

And in that moment, feeling Vi unravel beneath her, feeling herself pulled along with her, Caitlyn knew, with quiet and absolute certainty, that this was exactly where she belonged. Here, intertwined with the woman she loved. Here, always.

A few more slow rolls of her hips and Caitlyn followed, fingers tightening around Vi’s hand as Vi pulled her into a hungry, consuming kiss. Cait whimpered softly against her mouth before finally breaking away, resting her forehead against Vi’s cheek. A thin sheen of sweat traced down to the small of her back as she let herself settle, utterly spent.

For a long moment, the room held only the sound of their shared, uneven breathing.

Caitlyn remained draped over her, a soft, satisfied smile curving her lips as she watched the last aftershocks ripple through Vi’s body.

“You alright, Vi Pie?” she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Vi’s forehead, pure affection in the gesture.

“I’ll tell you when I find my brain,” Vi smirked, palming the back of Cait’s head and pulling her down against her chest again.

“I need water,” Cait said eventually, sitting up while still straddling her, reaching for a hair tie to pull her damp hair into a loose ponytail. “And possibly food,” she added with a breathless giggle.

“If you move your bum, I might get you both,” Vi teased, giving her backside a playful slap.

“Always a gentleman,” Cait smiled, shifting before flopping onto the bed and spreading out like a pancake. “Could you possibly get me those yummy fruit rolls from the kitchen?” She rolled onto her side, lips pouting into an exaggerated puppy face. “Pretty please.”

Vi chuckled as she tied the drawstring of her cotton trousers and pulled an oversized shirt over her head. “Anything else?” she asked, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“I fancy a glass of milk,” Cait added with a hopeful frown, begging in the sweetest way, one that made Vi’s heart flip every time.

“Alright.”

“Love yooooou,” Cait whined after her as Vi headed for the door.

Vi smiled without turning back.
“Love you too.”

"Don’t get lost"

"I'll try" she laughed

....

Vi padded barefoot down the stairs, the house hushed in that deep, late-night stillness that only came once everyone else had finally settled. Outside, the occasional car slipped past, headlights briefly washing across the tall windows before vanishing again, like nothing had happened at all.

The kitchen greeted her with cool tiles and quiet shadows. She opened the fridge and immediately started rummaging, grabbing one fruit roll and stuffing half of it into her mouth before she’d even fully straightened. A pleased hum vibrated in her chest as she stacked the rest onto a tray, singing  some tune she leaned in Stillwater. A couple of sponge cakes followed, soaked through with rum and rolled generously in coconut flakes. She paused, considered, then nodded to herself as if confirming this was, in fact, the correct selection.

Two glasses of milk were poured, filled nearly to the brim. Satisfied, Vi hooked the tray against her hip, nudged the fridge door shut with her foot, and headed back upstairs.

....

Caitlyn lay sprawled on her back, one arm draped over her head, the other lifted just enough to catch the light as she studied the ring on her finger. A small, private smile curved her lips, soft, content, a little dazed still. "Violet Kiramman" she hummed to herself "Violet Kiramman of Zaun" she corrected herself.

The door suddenly flew open.

“Incoming,” Vi announced, already struggling slightly under the weight of the overloaded tray.

Cait jolted upright, then immediately burst into laughter, folding her legs beneath her as she stared at the spread. “Vi...are you feeding me or preparing for a siege?”

“Hey,” Vi said defensively, setting the tray between them on the bed, “you said you needed food. I don’t do half measures.”

Cait shook her head, still smiling as she reached for a fruit roll. “This is absurd.”

“And yet,” Vi said, flopping down beside her, “you’re already eating.”

They settled in easily, shoulders brushing as they worked their way through the tray, Cait delicately peeling coconut flakes from her fingers, Vi shamelessly stealing bites whenever Cait paused to sip her milk. Crumbs gathered between them, quiet laughter filling the room.

Vi had just lifted the glass to her lips when Caitlyn just came out with it out of nowhere.
“Would you take my surname?”

The milk went down the wrong way instantly, and she sputtered, coughing hard as she leaned forward, one hand braced on the mattress. “What?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, blinking at Cait like she’d misheard something.

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. Just calmly finished chewing, swallowed, and looked at her again. “I was wondering...Would you take my surname? When we marry.” she repeated, voice steady, almost maddeningly so.

Vi stared at her for a long beat, then huffed out a breath and shook her head. “I.. I don’t know.” She shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “That thought has literally never visited a single brain cell up here...Does it matter?”

Caitlyn’s smile softened, but there was a seriousness behind her eyes now. “It shouldn’t,” she said. “I know that. And it sounds silly, superficial, even. But there is power in a name Violet. People respect it, treat you differently. And I want that for you. For us. I want you to be a part of this family, properly and for peopleto look at you as one." She took a small pause, her fingers brushing over Vi’s on the mattress "But I would never force it on you.”

Vi snorted quietly. “If someone needs a set of fancy letters behind my name to treat me with respect,” she said, leaning back on her hands, “they can respectfully fuck right off.”

Cait let out a small laugh despite herself.

“But,” Vi continued, rolling one shoulder, voice softer now, “if it makes you happy…” She shrugged again. “Not like I’ve got one I’m particularly attached to. Never really did.” Her mouth twitched. “It’s a Topside thing anyway.”

She reached over, nudging Cait’s knee with her own. “You wanna share it, I’m not gonna say no. I know how much it means to you.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught just a little, and this time, she didn’t try to hide her smile.

Vi’s grin turned slow and unmistakably dangerous.

“There is something else I want you to share first,” she said casually.

Caitlyn straightened a little, instantly serious. “What?” she asked, brows knitting

Vi didn’t answer. She leaned in instead capturing Cait’s mouth in a kiss that stole the question right off her lips and then, with a smooth shift of her weight, toppled her gently back onto the mattress. Cait let out a surprised laugh as the pillows swallowed her up.

“Vi...” she started, breathless.

“Mmm?” Vi murmured, already trailing kisses lower, all lazy confidence and heat.

Caitlyn huffed, trying very hard to sound composed while very much failing. “I’m not certain I’m ready for that level of commitment just yet.”

Vi answered by pressing a soft kiss to her stomach, lingering there just long enough to make Cait’s breath hitch then tracing a slow, teasing line with her tongue downward that had Cait’s eyes fluttering shut.

There was a beat. Maybe two.

“…On second thought,” Caitlyn said faintly, lips curving into a helpless smile, “I may be persuaded.”

Vi laughed against her, low and pleased, and the rest of the world very wisely faded away.

.....

Evening settled heavy over Piltover, the sky beyond the tall windows of Caitlyn’s study washed in deep blues and ash-grey. Lamps burned low, casting long shadows across maps, diagrams, and handwritten notes spread over the desk and pinned to the walls.

Everyone was there.

Caitlyn stood at the centre of it, posture straight, voice calm and precise as she gestured to the largest layout, a detailed blueprints of the factory compound Ekko had managed to acquire. Guard rotations. Entry points. Blind spots.

“Alright,” she said, tapping the tower sketched on the northern edge. “Jorin and I take the watchtower first. Two guards, overlapping sightlines. Once they’re down, we hold that position...Jorin will act as my spotter,”

"What’s a spotter?" Anika asked

He's there making sure she's safe so she can concentrate on shooting" Vi said "Close enough to shield her body, watch her blind angles, call targets, keep her breathing while she focused on the shot."

Cait inclined her head. “From the tower I’ll have a clear line down the yard and both entry routes. That gives the rest of you a window.”

She shifted her attention to the ground level of the map.

“Vi. Sevika. You move in together. Clear the perimeter and keep the main yard occupied.”

Vi crossed her arms. “Loud and ugly. Got it.”

Sevika grunted in agreement, lighting cigar between her fingers. Anika stood close to her side, leaning in as if proximity alone might make her safer. Sevika exhaled a puff of smike and draped her good arm over her shoulders.

“Gearhand,” Cait continued, turning. “Nyx. You’ll take the rear access here.” She pointed to a narrow service corridor. “Once Vi and Sevika draw attention, you move fast to the back room.”

Vi cut in, voice firm. “Once we’re inside, all bets are off. We don’t know how many people they’ve got in there. This has to be quick. In and out. No heroics.”

Cait met her gaze, then turned to Gearhand. “You’re certain you can disable the alarms?”

Gearhand nodded without hesitation. “Old system. Retrofitted badly. Give me thirty seconds and they'll be in a dark"

Nyx glanced at him, jaw tight, but said nothing.

Jorin leaned forward slightly. “What about the Firelights?”

“They’re our exit,” Vi said immediately. “Ekko’s people will be waiting. Once we have Caleb, they get us out before anyone can regroup.”

Cait let her eyes sweep the room, faces tense, resolved, afraid, determined. This wasn’t just a plan. It was a promise each of them was making to the others.

Vi cracked her neck once. “Right then let’s get him home.”

The room went still, not with doubt, but with the weight of what was coming.

And no one pretended otherwise.

.....

Vi was halfway down the hallway following Cait when a voice stopped her.

“Vi.”

She turned. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”

Gearhand stood a few steps back, shoulders squared like always, but his hands betrayed him, fingers flexing, rubbing together like he couldn’t quite decide what to do with them.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

The shift in his tone hit her instantly.

Vi’s expression sobered. “Yeah,” she said without hesitation. “Sure.”

They stood there for a moment, Gearhand looked at the wall. The floor. Anywhere but her.

He cleared his throat once. Then again.

“Vi....In case I....If I don’t come back,” he said quietly.

Vi felt her chest tighten.

“If anything happens…” His voice faltered, just for a second. Then he swallowed hard, and only one name made it out. “Elara.”

Vi didn’t let him finish.

“That’s not even negotiable,” she said immediately, voice firm, unshakeable. “She’s mine. You don’t come back, I’ve got her, we both do. End of discussion.”

Gearhand let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his lungs for years. His shoulders sagged just a little.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Before Vi could say anything else, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, strong, tight, desperate in a way he’d probably never admit to. Vi froze for half a heartbeat, then wrapped an arm around his back and slapped him between the shoulders.

“Hey,” she said lightly. “Careful. You go soft on me like that, you’re gonna set me off.”

He huffed a shaky laugh against her shoulder and pulled back, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he muttered.

“Your secret’s safe,” Vi said, tapping his shoulder. Then, more quietly, “We’re all coming back.”

He met her eyes then, really looked at her, and nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

They stood there for a moment longer before the weight of what was coming pressed back in.

Then Vi gave him a final squeeze on the shoulder and turned down the hall, jaw set, heart heavy, carrying one more promise she had every intention of keeping.

.....

A few hours later, the Kiramman’s house hummed with a different kind of tension.

The halls were quieter now, voices lowered, footsteps measured. Every sound seemed deliberate, the soft click of buckles, the whisper of fabric as armour settled into place, the muted scrape of boots being tested and retied. Somewhere, metal tapped against metal as a weapon was checked for the third time, then the fourth.

The air felt heavier, as if the walls themselves knew what was coming.

Lights burned low across the house, casting warm pools in corners while leaving others in shadow.

Outside, the snow fell in a slow, steady hush, each flake drifting down as if it had all the time in the world. It softened the sharp edges of Piltover’s streets, settled gently on rooftops and railings, muffling the city into something almost peaceful. Footprints filled and vanished again within minutes, erased without judgement or memory.

There was no urgency out there. No counting of breaths. No tightening of straps or whispered goodbyes.

In one of the rooms lit by a single side light, Nyx stood in front of a mirror. Her reflection barely felt like her own. The familiar bullet-proof corset was gone, replaced by an Enforcer chest plate, fitted and reinforced, proper gear Caitlyn had quietly arranged for all of them. It sat heavier on her body, colder. Official.

Jorin stood behind her, already fully dressed in Enforcer battle gear himself. The leather creaked softly as he tightened the straps around her waist, hands steady, practiced. Too practiced.

Nyx watched their reflection, both i armoured, rigid, transformed, and something deep in her chest twisted. It unsettled her more than she expected. Everything about this felt so wrong in every cell of her being.

Jorin caught her eyes in the reflection.

“It’s just for tonight,” he said quietly. “It’ll keep you breathing.”

He leaned in and kissed her shoulder through the edge of the armour.

Nyx swallowed hard. She reached for his hands, pulling them forward and wrapping them around herself as she leaned back, resting her full weight against his chest.

“What if we don’t make it?” she whispered. “Or… one of us doesn’t?”

Her voice broke. Tears welled before she could stop them, blurring the mirror.

Jorin stilled.

Then he gently turned her around, cupping her entire face between his long fingers, his palms swallowing her small features. His thumbs brushed away the tears, though more followed, slipping through the spaces between them.

“Then the one left standing,” he said softly, “makes the best of it. No regrets.”

Nyx’s chest heaved. She nodded, helpless, breathless, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into him and kissed her.

Not gentle. Not tentative.

Deep. Desperate. A kiss that stole the breath from her lungs and anchored her there. Nyx gasped into it, arms flying up around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair as if letting go might mean losing him entirely.

For a moment, the world narrowed to that, heat, breath, the promise of now.

Down the hall, in another room, Gearhand adjusted the final strap on his gear. Metal clicked softly as he hooked a knife onto his belt. He paused, looking over at the bed.

Elara sat on its edge, shoulders slumped, her usual spark dimmed to almost nothing. Her small fingers fidgeted absently with her sister’s bracelet, turning it over and over as if grounding herself.

Gearhand exhaled and crossed the room, sitting beside her with the weight of a man who knew exactly how heavy the moment was.

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly.

Elara’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“And I’d be proud,” he continued, “to see you wear that badge one day.”

Her breath hitched. A small, broken sound slipped out before she could stop it.

“But only if you use it right,” he said firmly. “And only if you never forget where you come from. You hear me?”

She nodded, tears spilling freely now, and threw herself into him.

Gearhand wrapped his arms around her, big hands firm and protective, holding her close. “Hey,” he murmured. “No crying.”

She clutched him tighter.

“I plan on coming back,” he said, voice steady even as his grip tightened. “This isn’t goodbye.”

“But if you don’t...” she whimpered.

“If I don’t,” he cut in gently, pulling back just enough to look at her, “then you make me proud. You don’t do anything stupid. Got it? No vengeance crap. You listen to Vi… and Caitlyn.”

Elara nodded through her tears.

“You make something of yourself,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “Something better than just a trencher.”

She nodded again and again and  buried her face in his chest, holding on as if she could memorise the feel of him.
......

Sevika stopped just outside the kitchen doorway, the noise and warmth behind her a sharp contrast to the cold purpose settling in her chest. Anika stood in front of her, hands twisting in her apron, eyes already shining.

They didn’t say much.

Sevika leaned in and kissed her, brief, firm, and lingering just enough to say everything she wouldn’t allow herself to speak. Anika kissed her back, fingers curling into Sevika’s coat like she might anchor her there.

Then Sevika pulled away.

“Go,” she muttered softly brushing her thumb over Anika’s cheek.

Anika nodded, swallowing hard, and turned back into the kitchen. The moment she crossed the threshold, her composure cracked. She wiped at her eyes with the edge of her apron, breath hitching as the tears came.

Dora was there instantly, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a solid, steady hug. “Hey,” she murmured. “Hush now. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Anika sniffled, voice small. “I just… I really hoped this was behind us.”

Dora rested her chin against Anika’s hair. “Sevika’s always done what she thought was right for the Undercity,” she said gently. “Even when it meant going against herself.”

Anika nodded against her shoulder, holding onto the words as the hallway beyond the kitchen fell quiet again.

....

Vi was already dressed, the weight of her gear familiar against her body as she slung her jacket over her shoulders and snapped the buckles closed with quick, practiced motions. She moved to the window, resting her forearms against the frame, watching snow drift down in lazy spirals outside.

Behind her, Caitlyn sat on the edge of the chair, finishing the last buckle on her boots. She glanced up and stopped.

Vi stood silhouetted against the glass, shoulders squared, jaw set, fingers absently twirling the engagement ring catching the pale light.

“Vi,” Caitlyn said quietly.

“Mmm?” Vi murmured without turning.

Caitlyn hesitated, then spoke with careful control. “Whatever happens out there… I need you to keep your focus.”

Vi huffed softly. “I always keep my focus.”

Caitlyn exhaled. “Violet.”

That made Vi turn.

Cait stood and crossed the room, boots soft against the floor. She stopped in front of her and lifted a finger beneath Vi’s chin, tipping her gaze up gently but unmistakably.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Cait said. “I can handle myself.”

Vi drew in a deep breath too deep, too fast. Her hands trembled, just barely, before she clenched them into fists.

Caitlyn noticed. She always did.

Vi was good at hiding the scars she carried, the ghosts that followed her into every fight. But Cait knew better than anyone that they were always there, pressed just behind those big, beautiful eyes, no matter how fiercely Vi tried to outrun them.

Vi’s resolve faltered for just a second.

Then she stepped forward and pulled Caitlyn into her, one arm wrapping tight around her waist, the other hand cradling the back of her head, holding her close like an anchor.

“I know,” Vi murmured into her hair.

Cait’s hands slid up Vi’s back, gripping her jacket, grounding her just as much.

Vi pulled back just enough to kiss her. Soft. Steady. A promise pressed into warmth and breath,

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, eyes closed, sharing one last quiet moment before the world demanded everything of them.

Time was running out.

And everyone knew it.

.....

Deep beneath Zaun, the factory breathed like a living thing, metal bones groaning, pipes ticking as they cooled, steam sighing through unseen cracks.

Caleb didn’t hear any of it.

He was hunched over his work, shoulders tight, fingers blackened with grease and chalk dust. The prototype dominated the table, half-finished, exposed wiring like veins, delicate and ugly all at once. Blueprints were spread around it in frantic layers, corners curled, margins packed with rushed notes. Behind him, the chalkboard was a battlefield of equations and sketches, ideas overlapping where sleep had been sacrificed days ago.

The door slammed open.

Caleb jolted so hard his chair scraped against the floor. He turned, heart already in his throat.

“I...I’m close,” he blurted, words tumbling over each other. “I just need a little more time. I’ve nearly solved the...”

One of the heavies crossed the room in three strides and grabbed him by the forearm. Caleb barely had time to gasp before he was yanked clean out of the chair, feet leaving the ground.

“Time’s up,” the man said flatly.

Caleb struggled, panic sharpening his movements. “Please...wait...just look at it, it’s almost....”

The second heavy struck him across the face. The sound cracked through the room like a snapped beam.

Caleb stumbled backward, slamming into the desk. The prototype toppled, metal clattering as it hit the floor. His hand scrabbled for balance, crushing the blueprints beneath his palm, ink smearing uselessly.

“No...please...”

They didn’t listen.

They grabbed him again and dragged him out, boots echoing down the corridor as his protests dissolved into breathless fear.

Moments later, he was thrown onto a chair in another room.

Leather straps snapped tight around his wrists, his chest, his thighs. The chair was bolted to the floor. The room itself looked like it had been forgotten, an abandoned back section of the factory where rust crept unchecked along the walls. Oil stains bloomed across the concrete like dark flowers. Broken machinery sat piled in corners, half-dismantled and useless, their shadows stretching long under the single flickering light overhead. The air was damp, metallic, cold enough to bite.

A man stepped forward carrying a metal bucket.

Caleb’s eyes widened. “No, wait...please...”

The contents were thrown over him.

Cold water soaked straight through his clothes, shocking the breath from his lungs. He gasped, teeth chattering instantly as the chill settled into his bones. The room felt even colder now, unforgiving.

Hands moved quickly after that.

Wet sponges were strapped to his wrists, pressed tight against his skin. Caleb’s mind raced, horror dawning in full, sickening clarity. His gaze snapped to the wall.

The fuse box.

Cables snaked out from it, thick and purposeful. Metal clamps were already being fastened to the sponges, cold against his skin.

“No, no, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “I just need more time. Two days, just two days, I swear. ”

Footsteps approached.

Solan entered the room.

Caleb latched onto the sight of him like a lifeline. “Sir, please. Two more days. I can finish it. I will finish it.”

Solan didn’t answer.

He didn’t even look at him.

Instead, he picked up a metal chair, turned it around, and sat down slowly, resting his forearms on the backrest. Calm. Composed. As if they were about to have a pleasant conversation.

“Discipline,” Solan said at last, voice smooth, almost conversational, “is a necessary part of running any business.”

Caleb shook against the restraints, water dripping from his sleeves onto the floor.

“I consider myself fair,” Solan continued. “From the very beginning, I was clear about the urgency. Clear about expectations. But some people” he tilted his head slightly “lack a business-minded understanding of efficiency.”

Caleb sobbed now, words tumbling uselessly. “I’m trying, I swear...”

“You are smart,” Solan said, almost kindly. “Without question. This is not about intelligence. It’s about learning another skill.”

He raised a gloved hand.

One small motion of his finger.

The lever came down.

The current surged through the cables with a violent snap, racing along the wires and straight into Caleb’s body. His scream tore out of him as every muscle locked at once, his back arching hard against the restraints. His teeth clenched so tight his jaw shook, breath ripped from his lungs as his body convulsed helplessly in the chair.

The switch was still humming when the first explosion hit.

The blast came from somewhere deep in the factory, a dull, concussive boom that rolled through the walls like a living thing. Dust rained from the ceiling. The light above them flickered violently.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

The men in the room turned to one another in confusion, eyes wide, hands hovering between orders and panic. The current cut off. The cables fell silent.

He hung motionless in the chair, soaked, smoke curling faintly from his sleeves. His head lolled to the side, chin slack against his chest.

Solan was on his feet in an instant, chair scraping sharply against the floor.

“What was...”

The second detonation tore through the building.

This one was closer.

The windows behind Caleb exploded inward with a shriek of shattering glass. Shards burst into the room, skittering across the floor and embedding themselves into walls and metal. The pressure wave punched the air from Solan’s lungs as he ducked on instinct, arms coming up over his head.

Gunfire followed.

Clean. Precise.

Two sharp cracks.

The men standing to either side of Solan dropped where they stood, bodies hitting the concrete in near-perfect unison. One slumped forward, the other fell backward, eyes already empty, both taken cleanly through the head.

Silence slammed down just as fast as the shots had come.

Solan lifted his head slowly, heart hammering now, the smell of cordite mixing with smoke and ozone. Somewhere in the factory, alarms began to wail, too late, frantic, useless.

From the blown-out window behind Caleb, cold air poured in.

Shell casings clinked against the wooden floorboards, spinning briefly before coming to rest.

Caitlyn’s gloved hands moved with precision, ejecting the spent magazine and snapping a fresh one into place. The rifle clicked as it locked, smooth and sure.

She drew a steady breath, lifting the weapon, aiming again.

.....

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