Friday morning brought a quiet lull to the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toasted bagel clinging to the air. Vi snagged her jacket from the back of the chair, took a swig of lukewarm coffee, and swiped up the half-eaten bagel like she was staging a daring heist.

She leaned in, lips brushing Caitlyn’s as Cait tilted her head back from the chair, the kiss slow and unhurried. Vi’s fingers found her neck, soft and warm beneath her touch, and for a moment the world could have burned down again and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“See you at the station,” Cait murmured against her mouth, voice low murmur. “And don’t forget the meeting. Please, Vi. Just this once.”

Vi groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was almost audible. “Right, the meeting. Because my life’s not complete unless some stiff in uniform tells me how I should do my job."

"Hey...that stiff is me you know."

Vi chuckled "Exactly...."

"I hate you." She smacked her hip with the napkin

Vi laughed pulling a jacket over her shoulders "Chill out...I’ll be there. Front row. Might even bring popcorn.”

Cait gave her a long-suffering look, the kind that was halfway stern and halfway amused.

Vi grinned, dropping another quick kiss on her forehead before heading for the door. "If I’m late, I’ll blame it on a bagel-related emergency. Can’t argue with carbs.”

"Don't you dare Violet!" She yelled after her

"Love ya!" Vi yelled back disappearing into the hallway

Cait rolled her eyes, lips twitching despite herself. From across the table, Nyx smirked into her coffee, hiding it behind the rim but not quite. For all the sharpness in her, she still found them oddly sweet together. Strange pair or not, there was no denying it.

“So,” Nyx drawled, setting her cup down with a soft clink, “where are Gearhand and Elara this morning?”

“Gearhand went out looking for work again,” Caitlyn said, her voice tinged with sympathy. “I feel awful for him...he’s been turned down for three placements already.”

Nyx gave a low laugh that wasn’t particularly amused. “Yeah, well… join the club. With me and Jorin not safe in the Undercity and my place blown to rubble, we’ll be chewing on bricks soon enough.”

“I won’t let it come to that,” Caitlyn said firmly, lifting her tea with deliberate calm. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, at least until this mess is behind us and you’re settled.”

“That’s sweet,” Nyx said, pushing her chair back a little, “but I’m not about to be anyone’s burden.”

Caitlyn’s brow softened. “Burden? But I thought we were friends now?"

That caught Nyx off guard. She blinked at Caitlyn, looking almost puzzled. For once, words didn’t come quickly. After a beat she muttered, “Well...Vi was definitely right,” and pushed up to her feet.

Caitlyn tilted her head. “Right about what?”

Nyx chuckled under her breath, already heading for the door. “That you’re not like other Topsiders.” She tossed the words back casually, though there was weight in them.

Left alone, Caitlyn sat quietly for a moment, letting it sink in before she smiled softly into her morning tea.

The door swung again and the cook entered, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Morning honey."

"Morning."

"Where’s everyone?"

"Vi just left for work. Nyx is packing, Elara is with her tutor, Gearhand went for another job interview and my father is showing Jorin the repairs that need to be made on the school. He wants his advice"

"And what about you sweetheart?"

"I'm just enjoying in last twenty minutes of piece and quiet before I head off to Stillwater...Oh, did you get it?” she asked setting her cup aside.

Got it! Here’s that scene polished up with the right touch of warmth and humor:

The woman chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair from her brow. “Yes, I have. Though I do hope it’s the right stuff. I had to rope my son into helping me. Didn’t have the faintest clue what I was asking for.” She went to the sideboard and fetched a packet wrapped in brown paper and tied neatly with string. “Thank heavens for the shop assistant, or I’d still be standing there gawping like a fool.”

Caitlyn’s eyes lit up the moment she saw it. “Perfect!” She snatched the parcel from her hands, leaning in to press a quick, grateful kiss against her cheek. “You’re a star, Dora.”

The cook laughed, cheeks warming. “Go on with you.”

But Caitlyn was already halfway out the kitchen door, clutching her prize like treasure. Dora shook her head fondly, a smile tugging at her lips. “That girl…” she murmured, laughter still soft in her chest as she turned back to her work.

.....

The school stood at the edge of a quiet Piltover park, framed by autumn-coloured trees whose branches swayed gently in the cool breeze. The building itself was a beautiful structure of pale stone and glass, graceful, though scarred. One wing was still covered in scaffolding, its outer wall cracked and blackened from fire damage. Beyond the gates, laughter rang through the courtyard.

Children played in the open square, clean, well dressed, carefree. A group of boys chased a leather ball across the cobblestones, shouting over one another with unrestrained joy. By the fountain, two girls jumped rope, the rhythm steady, their laughter bright. Others sat on a bench beneath the shade of a tree, trading cards and giggling.

Jorin slowed, his steps faltering as the sounds reached him. The cheerful noise stirred something deep inside. The games were the same as in Zaun, catch, rope-jump, cards, but the backdrop was different. No cracked pavement, no rusted pipes, no thick chemical haze. Here, even the air seemed softer.

For a fleeting moment, he imagined Zaun’s children playing like this, safe, well-fed, free from sickness and grime. But the thought only made his chest ache. His gaze lingered on the kids, his heart heavy with something unspoken.

“...and that’s when the roof gave in,” Tobias’s voice broke through, dragging Jorin back. He blinked, realising he’d fallen behind slightly, and caught up with the older man as they moved through the hallway.

“The building took a bad hit during the Noxian assault,” Tobias continued, gesturing toward the damaged walls. “We’ve had to focus on the central districts first, so… this place has been waiting a while. Manpower’s stretched thin, equipment even more so.”

Jorin nodded, running a calloused hand over a cracked support beam. “What’s your connection to the place?”

“We’re patrons,” Tobias said, matter-of-factly. “My family’s supported it for years. Vi and Caitlyn...” he smiled faintly “ ..they’ve taken a particular interest in this wing. It’s their little project. Once rebuilt, it’ll expand the school to take in children from the Undercity. Give them a fair start.”

Jorin’s brows lifted slightly. “Undercity kids, here?”

“That’s the idea.” Tobias’s tone was warm but measured. “Though not everyone’s thrilled about it. Change rarely is easy.”

They stepped into the damaged wing. The corridor smelled faintly of dust and plaster. Shafts of sunlight cut through missing roof panels, falling across broken desks and paint-peeled walls.

“I’ve been trying to find a foreman for this site for a while,” Tobias said casually, hands behind his back as he walked. “No luck so far.”

“I might know some people in the Lanes looking for work,” Jorin offered. “Can ask around.”

Tobias stopped, turning slightly to study him. “I was hoping you might be interested yourself.”

Jorin blinked, caught off guard. “Me? I’m only a builder.”

“You’re not only a builder,” Tobias replied firmly. “You know the work, start to finish. You’ve earned respect as far as I understood, where it matters most...among workers. That’s what I need. Someone who can bridge both worlds.”

Jorin hesitated, staring at the light filtering through the broken ceiling, dust swirling in its glow. “You really think I could do it?”

“I don’t think,” Tobias said with a small smile. “I know.”

.....

Caitlyn paused outside the door, drawing a steadying breath before she knocked.

“Yes?” came Nyx’s voice from inside, flat and distracted.

“Do you have a minute?” Caitlyn asked.

“Yeah, sure. Come in.”

Caitlyn stepped into the room to find Nyx arranging folded clothes across the bed. Without looking up, Nyx muttered, “Do we need something warmer? I don’t even know where the hell we’re going.”

“Just for the evening,” Caitlyn answered gently. “Tends to be more chilly.”

Nyx finally glanced at her. “Alright. So...how can I help you?”

Caitlyn moved closer, and without a word, set the brown-paper parcel down on the neat pile of clothes.

Nyx frowned, suspicious. “What’s this?”

“Well, you won’t know unless you open it, will you?” Caitlyn’s eyes twinkled, her excitement barely contained.

Nyx picked up the package reluctantly, surprised by the weight. She began tearing at the paper, and Caitlyn warned, “Careful...it might break.”

That only deepened Nyx’s confusion. She peeled back the last layer of wrapping, and the air caught in her throat. Nestled in the paper lay tattooing equipment, ink bottles, needles, a brand-new gun gleaming under the light.

Caitlyn stood there beaming, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hope it’s the right one. And that’s everything you need.”

Nyx stared at her, utterly floored. “Tattooing equipment? Are you fucking serious?”

Caitlyn straightened, crossing her arms. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Why? Why would you do that? This must’ve cost....”

“Never mind the cost,” Caitlyn cut her off firmly. “You saved my partner. There’s no price that will ever repay that.”

The words sank through Nyx’s armor like a blade finding its mark. Her tough exterior faltered, lips trembling as she whispered, “Thank you.”

“So… is that all you need?” Caitlyn pressed, watching her carefully.

Nyx nodded, her fingers brushing over the bottles and the gun, reverent. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” Caitlyn’s tone shifted, sudden and serious. “Then I can be your first client.”

Nyx nearly choked. Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Oh yes,” Caitlyn said with crisp certainty. “I’ll pay fair and square. You’ll just need to explain it all to me....I’m not quite sure how this works.”

Nyx couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out. “You want me to tattoo you?”

Caitlyn nodded once, firm. “Yes.”

That was it, Nyx doubled over, shoulders shaking as laughter bubbled out uncontrollably.

Caitlyn tilted her head, brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Nyx managed, biting down on her grin and straightening up. “So… what do you want, princess?”
"Don't call me that." Cait smiled


......


The elevator hummed and rattled its way down, the kind of sound that made it clear it had missed a few maintenance checks over the years. Vi leaned casually against the railing, arms folded, one boot crossed over the other, while Lance and Darren stood like two rookies heading into enemy territory.

“All right, listen up,” Vi said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Once we’re down there, no wandering off, no starting fights this time, and definitely no touching of any kindof tech that can snap your hand off.”

Lance frowned. “So, uh… where exactly are we going again?”

Vi glanced at him sideways, all smug amusement. “To see a hydraulics guy.”

“A hydraulics guy where, exactly?” Lance pressed, his tone wary.

“The Lanes,” Vi said simply, as if she’d just announced they were popping down to the bakery.

“Oh, great. Thanks, that makes it so much clearer now. I didn’t bring my tetanus shot.”

Vi smirked, pushing her hands into her jacket pockets as the elevator jolted slightly. "You need to chill out...What’s the worst that could happen?”

Darren exchanged a look with Lance. “Famous last words.”

The elevator chimed. Vi grinned wider. “Exactly.”

The doors slid open to the gritty chaos of the Lanes, steam, shouting, the smell of oil and metal thick in the air.

Vi clapped them both on the shoulders. “Come on...this is the fun part of the job.”

The trio moved through the winding alleys of the Lanes, their boots echoing off the slick cobblestones. The air was thick with steam and the faint hiss of leaking pipes somewhere above. Neon signs flickered overhead, painting the narrow walls in uneven shades of green and purple.

Vi squinted at the crumpled scrap of paper in her hand, the ink slightly smudged. “Alright…” she muttered, holding it up to the weak light. Her eyes flicked between the numbers on the wall and the sheet, then up toward the crooked stack of houses leaning over one another like drunks after last call. Lights burned dimly behind a few windows. “Looks like someone’s home,” she said, tucking the note into her pocket.

She glanced back at the two rookies trailing behind her. Darren already looking like he regretted his life choices, and Lance trying not to step in anything that hissed. “Alright, gentlemen,” Vi announced with mock formality, “we’ve reached our destination.”

She pressed her shoulder against the heavy wooden door. It groaned before giving way, the hinges shrieking in protest. Inside, the air hit them, cool, heavy, and damp, carrying that musky, old-building smell that clung to the back of your throat. The faint scent of someone's lunch cooking mixed with it making Vi hungry.

They started up the staircase, their steps creaking beneath them. The place had that faint chill that seeps into stone, the kind that made you imagine the walls sweating in the dark. Water dripped somewhere below.

Darren huffed as they climbed. “Why are we even here?”

Vi’s tone was light, almost teasing. “Following a lead.”

He frowned, suspicious. “What lead?”

She shrugged without looking back. “Just some illegal tech from the last raid.”

Darren squinted. “Which raid?”

Vi stopped, turned her head over her shoulder, and gave him a look, one brow raised, “You talk too much.”

They reached the top where the stairs led them to the open veranda overlooking the street below and rooftops on each side. There was a single door on this level and Vi rapped her knuckles against it.

“Relax,” she winked at the two of them leaning against the door frame.

She could see the faint flicker of movement behind the spyhole, someone was definitely there. The muffled shuffle of footsteps followed. Then silence. No latch turning, no voice, nothing.

She gave it another few seconds before knocking again, harder this time. “Come on, pal. I i don't have all day,” she called out, tone casual but carrying that edge that meant business.

More movement inside. This time quicker.

Lance’s head snapped left. “Vi!” he barked, already vaulting over the veranda railing. “He’s going for the roof!”

“Shit,” Vi muttered, bolting after him.

By the time she jumped across, the guy was already halfway across the slanted rooftops, his boots skidding against the slick surface. Vi didn’t hesitate, she leapt after him, boots hitting hard, knees bending to absorb the landing before she was off again, sprinting after him. The air up here smelled of rust and smoke, every breath sharp in her chest.

“Lance, keep up!” she shouted over her shoulder.

“I’m... trying!” he yelled back, voice tight with a mix of panic and determination.

The fugitive vaulted a pipe, swung around a vent, and darted across a narrow gap between roofs. Vi followed without breaking stride, her boots thudding rhythmically, eyes locked on the target. Lance reached the edge, hesitated just a moment too long, then jumped.

For one terrifying second, his foot slipped on the landing, sending gravel tumbling into the abyss below.

“Lance!” Vi lunged, grabbing front of his jacket pulling him in. His heart hammered so hard she could almost feel it through the fabric.

He let out a shaky breath. “I...I had it.”

“Sure you did,” she said, smirking despite the adrenaline. “Now move.”

They pressed on, the sound of boots pounding metal echoing through the night. The fugitive was fast, almost too fast, but Vi was faster. She could read the rooftops like a map, predicting every shift in direction, every blind corner. The guy darted left, trying to lose her by cutting through a tangle of pipes and scaffolding, but Vi was right behind him.

Lance uses the opportunity and threw the ball that split into the rope wrapping around the guy’s feet sending him flying across the rooftop face first.

Vi didn’t think, she just moved, catching him mid-landing. They both went down hard, rolling across the roof.

Underneath the older lady hummed a tune as she shook the sheet then clipped the corner on the washing line. Suddenly two people fell from the roof landing on top of a pile of her washing and tangled limbs and ruffled hair. The woman screamed then her expression changed into something more worrying.

"Gods...are you okay?"

Vi lifted twisted the guys arm behind his back pinning him down and lifted her head

"Good timing" she grinned.

Lance jumped off the roof beside her, breath ragged but victorious.

Vi grinned, one hand pressing the guy’s arm. “Well,” she said between breaths, “that was a hell of a workout.”

Lance bent over, hands on his knees. “Next time,” he panted, “I’m… taking the elevator.”

Vi chuckled, tightening her grip as the guy squirmed beneath her. “You’re improving, rookie. Didn’t die once.”

Then she looked down at the captured man, her grin fading into something sharper. “Alright, sunshine,” she said, voice low and calm. “How about you tell me why you were so eager to run?”


.....


The meeting room at the station buzzed with quiet chatter, boots scraping against the tiled floor as officers settled into their seats. The walls were lined with bulletin boards crowded with reports and wanted posters, the air thick with the smell of coffee and uniforms damp from the morning rain.

Caitlyn stood at the front, glancing at he notes before checking her pocket watch. Five minutes past the hour. She exhaled through her nose, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath. “Where else would she be but late?”

With a small huff, she straightened her posture, collected her notes, and decided to begin without Vi.

“Right,” she said, her clear voice cutting through the room. “Let’s get started.”

The murmuring died instantly.

Cait adjusted her cuffs, composed and sharp as ever. “First, a quick review of current investigations, sector nine reports are due by the end of the week and I want the follow-up on the smuggling case filed by tomorrow morning. We’ll go over the suspect list later, but for now, let’s move on to the more pressing matters.”

She picked up a thick stack of papers and began distributing them, walking briskly between the rows of officers. “You’ll each find a copy of the updated operational guidelines. Effective immediately.”

Her tone was clipped, efficient, as she moved from desk to desk, placing sheets in front of the seated Enforcers.

“It’s a new system of regulations,” she continued. “More structured reports, tighter scheduling, and clearly defined movement logs for all patrol units operating in the Lanes.”

A few exchanged uneasy looks.

“I expect everyone to follow the protocol precisely,” Cait added, eyes sharp as she placed the last stack down. “That means clear communication about your locations, no improvising patrol routes, and no unsanctioned shifts in assignments.”

She folded her arms and stood at the head of the table again, her expression cool and professional. “These measures aren’t meant to make your lives harder. They’re meant to keep order and ensure your safety.”

Her gaze swept across the room, steady and sharp. “Last time patrol routes were changed without proper clearance, we had smugglers moving shipment right under our noses."

She let that hang in the air for a moment, her tone turning colder. “If that happens again, if I find out anyone authorises or carries out changes without my approval, make no mistake, I will open an internal investigation. And I’ll hold every person involved accountable, no matter their rank or connections. Is that understood?”

She paused, letting the words settle then pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before looking up, the sharp click of her boots echoing as she paced slowly in front of the table.

"Which brings us to another subject....Stillwater investigation. Any progress on that?"

One of the officers, a younger man sitting near the end of the table, straightened in his seat. “We’ve been digging, ma’am. There’s some indication one of the guards might’ve been involved.”

Cait’s gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Fantastic.” she quipped, her voice filled with sarcasm.

He hesitated, fidgeting with the papers in front of him. “And before you ask, the guard’s gone missing. Disappeared right after the attack.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “Missing,” she repeated flatly. "Any trace on him?"

The officer nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes and no ma'am. Last trace we found was on an airship to Demacia.”

For a moment, Cait just stood there, expression unreadable, the muscles in her jaw working. Then she exhaled sharply through her nose and turned on her heel.

“Of course he did,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She dropped the report onto the table with a soft thud. “Get me the name of that guard and everything we have on his connections. And I want confirmation from the Demacian port authority if that airship ever landed including the full list of passengers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said quickly
Caitlyn huffed again, her jaw tightened. She folded her arms turning toward the evidence board thinking. She let the room’s murmurs die down before she turned back twards the officers.

“All right,” she spoke with the faintest edge of irritation in her voice, “we’re done dancing around hypotheticals.”

“Bribes,” she said sharply, leaning forward with her hands splayed on the table so everyone could see she meant it, “are something I will not tolerate. Not here. Not ever. This sort of behaviour is a direct threat to everything we do, and I am determined to root it out — from the low-level handlers right up to anyone who thinks their badge makes them untouchable.”

She straightened, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she began to pace between the tables. “We cannot, and will not, impose rules and regulations on the University while failing to hold ourselves to the same standards. That’s hypocrisy, plain and simple and I will not stand for it.” Her voice sharpened as she continued, “If we expect cooperation and respect, then it starts with us. Every decision, every action, must reflect the integrity this department claims to uphold. Otherwise, we’re no better than the criminals we’re meant to stop. If anyone is taking money, favours, or turning a blind eye in exchange for goods or information, I will find out."

She stopped mid-step and the room fell into a sudden, careful silence, pens paused over paper, a clock ticked louder than before. Caitlyn let that stillness hang for a beat, meeting each pair of eyes in turn until the weight of it settled across the tables. Then, measured and without haste, she continued,

“Therefore I am ordering a full account audit of every officer on this roster.”

"What?" Someone's voice came through

A few heads turned, a nervous shuffle of papers. An officer at the far table made a small, incredulous noise.

“You want what?” he blurted.

“You heard  me correctly. Every one of you will submit a full statement of recent financial movements,” Cait replied. “Private accounts, deposits, gifts, loans, anything out of the ordinary from the last six months. Include names on joint accounts and anyone who’s transferred money to you. I want receipts, ledgers, and bank ledgers where applicable. If you’ve had unexplained income I want to know”

She moved slowly down the rows, meeting eyes. “This isn’t personal. It’s procedure. If there’s dirty money in our ranks, we root it out. If there isn’t, you’ll walk out of here with your records clean and your names intact. If there is, you’ll be suspended pending investigation and prosecuted if necessary.”

The room’s temperature shifted. Some officers exchanged worried looks, others folded their arms tighter.

“Who’s going to see these?” someone asked.

“I’m assigning Internal Affairs to oversee collection, with an independent auditor from the council to validate everything,” Cait said. “Chain of custody will be strict. Confidentiality will be maintained where possible, but this office will not tolerate stonewalling. Any attempt to hide or falsify records will be treated as obstruction.” Her voice sharpened. “And yes, that includes private accounts you think are safe from scrutiny.”

A captain near the front bristled. “This is extreme. Piltover law...”

“This is within my authority,” Cait cut in, cool and final. “We have probable cause tying one of our own to the Stillwater breach. That gives us grounds to demand transparency. I’ll have the submission schedule posted in an hour. You have forty-eight hours to hand everything in. After that, we begin freezes and subpoenas.”

There were audible intakes of breath. Someone whispered about logistics, another officer mouthed a curse under his breath.

Caitlyn’s expression softened for a fraction, not a concession, but a recognition of the burden she was imposing. “I know this is invasive. I know it’s uncomfortable. But we choose the line of work that keeps people safe. That line only holds if we hold ourselves to the same standard. If you want to keep wearing that badge, you’ll cooperate.”

Silence settled, taut and forced. A hand went up hesitantly.

“And protections?” an officer asked. “If someone comes forward about being coerced?”

“We protect whistleblowers,” Cait replied without hesitation. “Anyone who provides information in good faith will be offered immediate protective measures and support. If you fear retaliation, come to me directly or to Internal Affairs. We will not let fear be a weapon.”

She straightened, the stacks of reports still on the table reflecting in her eyes.

“Forty-eight hours. Clean records keep this city running. Dirty ones get exposed.” She let it hang for a beat. “Now get to it.”

A subdued murmur ran through the room as officers processed the order. Papers were shuffled, a pen clicked somewhere. Cait checked her watch, lips tightening, Vi was still absent. Then she folded her notes with the restless, practical air of a woman who’d just set things into motion.

.....

The apartment was quite spacious for Zaun with big stain glass windows overlooking the rooftops and a small balcony from the kitchen hanging over the Lanes. The kind of space Vi would find charming if she didn't stand over a guy they just caught, the tension thick enough to taste.

“Fuck off,” he spat, squirming in his chair, eyes flashing with defiance. “You got nothing. I know my rights!” he tried getting up but Vi pressed her hand firmly on his shoulder slamming  him back into the seat. The chair creaked under the pressure.

“Try to get up again, and you’ll find out exactly how thin my patience is,” she said, voice calm but sharp.

She slid a metal part they had found tucked away in his apartment across the table filled with photos from the rade. “Recognize this?” she asked jabbing her finger on one of the photos, eyes locked on his.

He shook his head, voice rising. “Not mine! None of that’s mine. You’re wasting your time.”

Behind her, Darren and Lance were moving carefully through the apartment, rifling through drawers, cupboards, and shelves, keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of place. Darren’s boot caught something unusual in the floor, it moved differently under his weight.

He crouched, brushing aside the dusty carpet. “Hmmmm,” he muttered, confused.

Lance, glancing over his shoulder, asked, “What?”

"I don't know. I thought I felt something under my foot" Darren explained quickly but shrugged. “Must be nothing.”

"Felt what?"

"I don't know. Like the floor dipped under my weight."

Lance frowned, crouching to study the floorboards himself. The cracks were subtle, but something about them nagged at him. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked the flame, and ran it carefully along the gaps between the boards.

"What the hell are you doing?" Darren asked

A faint draft wavered the flame.

“Gotcha,” Lance whispered, a grin spreading across his face. He bolted to the kitchen, rifling through drawers until he found a slim, strong implement, just enough to slip between the boards. "Perfect" he smiled satisfied

Returning, he carefully levered a small section, enough to slip his fingers through the narrow gap.

Meanwhile, Vi was losing patience with the man. He twisted in the chair, voice sharp and defensive. “I’m telling you, it isn’t mine! You’re trying to pin this on me!”

Vi’s calm edge snapped into steel. She grabbed his jacket, yanking him upright and slamming him face-down onto the kitchen table. The wood groaned under the impact.

“Maybe after a few days in Stillwater,” she said, swiftly snapping handcuffs around his wrists, “you’ll start to remember.”

He froze, his bravado faltering as the reality of the cuffs sank in. Vi leaned close, her gaze unwavering. “And maybe, just maybe, you’ll start talking.”

Darren’s voice echoed from the hallway, high-pitched with excitement. “Vi! Vi, you better come check this out!” He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a hand gesturing wildly toward the other room.

Vi, already gripping the handcuffed guy under one arm, spun around, boots clattering on the kitchen tiles. “Now what?” she asked, irritation giving way to curiosity.

“Just… come look! You’re not gonna believe this!” Darren panted.

Moments later, Vi stood over the opening, her eyes narrowing as she peered down into the dimly lit space beneath. The faint smell of damp mixed with the sharp metallic tang of machinery rose from underneath. She leaned closer, heart picking up pace.

“Holy shit!” she breathed, mouth hanging open.

Lance was already down there, grinning like a kid at a toy store. He had one crate lifted, spilling mechanical parts across the floor. “Look at this boss!” he called up, pride evident in his voice. “Tons of this stuff!”

Vi followed qfter him jumping down, finally taking in the full room below. Crates were stacked from floor to ceiling, each packed with gears, pistons, cables, and what looked unmistakably like parts for sentries. Some crates were open, pieces spilling out onto the floor, polished and new, some clearly scavenged but expertly modified.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the scale. “He’s been hiding an entire workshop down here,” she muttered, shaking her head. "Hey sunshine! She yelled "You're still gonna say it's not yours?"

Darren’s hands were already in motion, moving crates aside, shining his flashlight over every corner. “Look at all of it! Holy crap...there’s enough here to outfit a small battalion!”

"Good job guys!"

Lance and Darren grinned like two kids who just won the race.

.....


Caitlyn was a blur of motion, striding down the polished corridor with a stack of folders tucked under one arm and irritation practically radiating off her. She was halfway to her office when the double doors slammed open with a bang that made her stop dead in her tracks.

In strolled Vi, all swagger and grin, one arm hooked around a cuffed and thoroughly miserable suspect. Behind her, Lance and Darren followed, still breathlessly arguing over who’d spotted the hatch first.

“Hey, Cupcake,” Vi drawled, grinning like she’d just won the Zaun lottery. “You’re not gonna believe what we...”

“Violet!” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the room like a whip. She crossed her arms sharply, posture perfect, lips pressed into a dangerously thin line. “You never showed up for the meeting. You promised. Do you know what that makes me look like?”

Vi’s grin faltered for half a second before she plastered it right back on. “Yeah, about that…”

Before she could come up with something witty, the doors burst open again, this time to the sight of several officers hauling in crates, one after another, stacking them like trophies.

Caitlyn blinked. “What...what on earth is this?”

Darren beamed. “That’s what we recovered , ma’am. Hidden under a floor in the Lanes. You should’ve seen it....”

Lance interrupted, puffing out his chest. “We found it. Well, I found the hatch. He just stepped on it first.”

"Just?" Darren protested "If I didn't step on it we wouldn't find it."

Vi rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Kids.” She shoved the cuffed man toward an officer, then turned back to Caitlyn, smirking.

Cait opened her mouth to say something but Vi sauntered closer, leaning in until her lips were dangerously near Caitlyn’s ear. Her voice dropped low, teasing.

“You’ll get the report in half an hour…” she murmured, the faintest grin curling her lips. Then, softer, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s skin: “Cheer up. Frowning doesn't suit you.”

Caitlyn went rigid, colour blooming across her cheeks even as she tried to keep her composure.

Vi straightened, flashing her that infuriatingly smug smile.

“C’mon guys! Let’s unload the rest before Sheriff has an aneurysm!”

Darren and Lance scrambled after her, still bickering as they followed her.

Caitlyn was left frozen and confused in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the growing mountain of crates and the echo of Vi’s laughter fading down the corridor.

.....

The Piltover building towered above Gearhand, clean lines of marble and brass, polished glass catching the sun like a mirror of every man’s ambition. He straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his freshly washed hair. He looked halfway decent for once, though his old boots and patched coat betrayed the truth of his life. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, before pushing through the ornate glass doors.

Inside, the long hallway was packed with men, some in crisp shirts, some in stained workwear, all carrying the same tired look of hope and desperation. A few sat hunched over on benches, others smoked near the windows despite the no-smoking sign, and a few turned to size him up as he entered.

“Morning,” Gearhand said, polite as ever.

One man grunted. Another nodded. He dragged a wooden chair over and sat down, elbows on his knees, watching the line inch forward at a snail’s pace.

Nearly an hour crawled by before the door creaked open and a tiny man with round glasses peeked out. “Borsen Gearhand?” he called. His voice was thin and nasal, but it cut through the low murmur of the room.

“That’s me,” Gearhand replied, standing up. His back ached from sitting so long, but he followed the man through the narrow doorway into a world that looked nothing like his own.

The office screamed Piltover wealth, velvet curtains, walls lined with gilded maps, an enormous mechanical clock ticking softly in the corner. The desk was massive, carved from dark wood, and behind it sat a man in a pristine navy suit that probably cost more than Gearhand’s house had.

“Sit down,” the man said without looking up, his voice smooth and disinterested. He flipped through a folder, pages rustling. “Let’s see… Borsen Gearhand. Extensive mechanical background. Worked on hydraulic arrays, lift systems, and mining drills.” He made a low hum, unimpressed but acknowledging. “You’re clearly qualified, overqualified, in fact for a junior maintenance post.”

He finally looked up, his sharp blue eyes settling on Gearhand. “So tell me… why apply for a job so far beneath your experience?”

Gearhand swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his cap. “A few years back, my wife passed away. We had two girls.” He hesitated. “Now there’s just one. I need work, any work. Doesn’t matter what it is or how many hours. I just need to keep a roof over her head.”

The man gave a quick, almost mechanical, “Sorry for your loss,” before glancing back at the file. “You were involved in that mining accident, weren’t you?”

Gearhand’s jaw twitched. “I....” He didn’t even want to go there. The memory sat in his chest like a weight.

But the man waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think this will work.”

That was it. No explanation. No chance.

Gearhand huffed through his nose and stood. “Thanks for nothing,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration, and walked out before he said something worse.

Out on the street, the cool air hit him like a slap. His chest burned with humiliation. He kicked the rubbish bin once. Then again. The metal rattled loudly down the empty street.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

He froze. An officer was approaching, hand resting casually on his belt.

Gearhand exhaled hard. “No. Sorry. Just having a bad day.”

The officer nodded. “Right. Just don’t take it out on public property next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gearhand mumbled. “Won’t happen again.”

He walked off, boots scraping the cobblestones. Each step felt heavier than the last. In the distance, the shining towers of Piltover gleamed above him, bright, clean, and utterly unreachable.

He felt like a failure.

.....


Caitlyn was back in her office, poring over the report of the prison guard who had vanished without a trace. Her pen hovered over the paper as she made notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Dates and details swam before her eyes, but suddenly, a connection emerged—faint, yet terrifyingly clear. The guard had once worked as a night guard at a chemical lab in Piltover. Her finger traced the name "Ver-Tech," and a memory stirred at the edge of her consciousness, elusive yet familiar.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and crossed the room to the filing cabinet. Flipping through the files, she searched for any mention of Ver-Tech, her heart pounding with anticipation. Minutes ticked by, and just as she was about to give up, she found a file tucked away in the back. Pulling it out, she opened it with trembling hands.

The report detailed a break-in at the lab, barely a year ago. Several men had been injured, and chemicals stolen. Her eyes scanned the page, and a name leapt out at her: Caelum Vertech, the owner. The door to her office burst open, and Caitlyn screamed, the file flying into the air, papers scattering across the floor.

Caitlyn yelped, the file flying out of her hands, papers raining down like confetti.
“Good grief!” she gasped, “Don’t you ever knock?

Vi leaned against the doorframe, her laughter echoing through the room. "You hiding something Cupcake?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Caitlyn shook her head, trying to regain her composure. "Nooo, of course not," she shot back as she bent down to gather the scattered papers.

Vi's laughter echoed through the room as she closed the door behind her, striding towards her with a mischievous grin.

Still flustered from the sudden intrusion, she tried to regain her composure, but Vi was already pulling her close. "Are those from your lover?" she murmured, her voice low and playful, as she reached for the file Caitlyn had been holding.

"Maybe," she replied coyly with a giggle, a sound that was rare and infectious, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Vi leaned in, her lips brushing against Caitlyn's neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Is she better than me?" she whispered, her hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer.

"I don't know," she breathed. “I guess I'll have to compare.” she replied smug as her fingers tangled in Vi’s hair. Thumb grazing slowly a line down the nape of her neck.

Vi chuckled against her skin, her hand slipping under her top, cupping her breast. "Guess I’ll just have to make sure I stay ahead " she murmured then captured Caitlyn's lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The other woman melted into her, her body pressing against Vi's, feeling the heat between them intensify.

She gasped into the kiss, her hand gripping Vi's neck, holding on as the world spun around them. Vi's other hand found its way to her bum, pulling her flush against her.

“Mmm,” Cait murmured against her mouth, then stepped back so fast her palm landed on Vi’s chest, gently pushing her away.

She smoothed her uniform with trembling fingers, cheeks flushed, and tried to tame a stray lock of hair. “This is highly inappropriate.”

Vi snorted. “Yeah, sure. But that’s what makes it fun.”

Caitlyn took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "We ...We can't let ourselves get distracted," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Vi stepped closer, her hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Caitlyn's ear. "Who says we're distracted?" she asked, her voice a soft purr. "You know....Sometimes, the best way to clear your mind is to let go and just enjoy the moment."

Caitlyn's resolve wavered as she looked into Vi's eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back at her.

"I'm sorry darling. I'm just so stressed."  She leaned in pressing a short kiss to her lips.

"It’s ok." Vi bent to pick up the papers scattered on the floor. “What’s this?” she asked, holding a report between two fingers.

“That’s the case from two years ago.”

“Why are you pulling a file from two years ago? Is it connected to...?”

“Yes.” Cait cut her off, voice low. “It seems to be. Which is both encouraging and terrifying.”

"Ehy terrifying?"

She took the file from Vi and spread the documents across her desk. “Well...If someone was at that meeting, they’d know the prison guard was involved in the attack and fled Piltover." She looked up at her with a smile "I suppose you're forgiven considering what you found."

Vi rolled her eyes, half-amused, half-intrigued, and leaned over to read."Do ypu know where he is?"

"No" Cait continued “But I pulled his records, he used to be a security officer at Ver‑Tech lab here in Piltover owned by this guy."  Her finger landed on a name. “Caelum Vertech.”

“How convenient.”

“Exactly.” Cait’s jaw tightened. “There was a break‑in at the facility two years ago, some chemicals stolen. Nothing that seemed related to this. But I want to look into him.”

“You want me to dig up dirt on him?”

“Yes.”

"They needed a chemist to make that silver shit. Maybe he’s our guy.”

“Exactly. I want everything, his favourite meal, who he meets with, who buys from him, who pays him.”

Vi chuckled, a low, mischievous sound that filled the room. "Can you imagine if they were cooking this shit right on our doorstep? The Council’s gonna have a fucking heart attack when they find out."

"That’s what terrifies me" Cait exhaled throwing another file on a desk. "How far up does this go Violet?"

.....


The atmosphere in Caitlyn’s study that evening was thick with tension. Maps and papers lay spread across the great oak desk, the lamp’s pool of light slicing the room into islands of shadow. The hearth crackled, throwing a little heat into the chill, but it did nothing to ease the worry on everyone’s faces.

Caitlyn stood at the head of the table, composed but worn. Around her sat Jorin, Nyx, Gearhand, Sevika, and Vi—each waiting in a silence that felt like the calm before a storm.

“As you all know, I went to see Lystra yesterday,” Cait began, voice steady. “I got some bad news I need to share.”

“Crap,” Gearhand muttered before he could stop himself. “If you called a corporate meeting, it can’t be good.”

“When you see Sevika, you know shit’s hit the fan,” Vi added, deadpan.

“You’re not far off,” Cait said. “So this is what we are dealing with and I'm afraid it is very worrying.
Lystra did a series of controled tests on the mysterious liquid. Not only that it dampens Hextech but her words this is like nothing she's ever seen before." Cait opened up the file and spread the photos all over the desk. "It is highly unstable. Volatile enough that even a small amount could level half of Piltover... or the Undercity, if mishandled.

Sevika picked up one of the photosfrom the table. "How small are we talking about?" Sevika asked vividly concerned

"This damage was caused by only one teaspoon of it."

"Holy shit" Nyx’s eyes widened at the photos

"So what Vi had strapped around her would wipe out half of the Undercity?"

Cait nodded "This is no longer to be under estimated. It is potentially a threat to all of us.”

"What happened to that bomb anyway?" Gearhand asked

"It's in my family volt. I couldn't risk Council finding out. I also thought it can potentially give us leverage."

Sevika laughed leaving the photo on the table "You got some balls Kiramman, I'll give you that."

Uneasy looks circled the room.

“This isn’t just about people going missing anymore,” Cait continued. “Whatever they’re making, it was created either as a threat, or it’s meant to be used. And we still don’t know what is their end game here.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not small,” Nyx said. “You don’t make a doomsday wepon and go to all these lengths just to rob a bank.”

Cait scanned the faces around the table. “Point is that I cannot make decisions on my own anymore. You are all part of this....one way or the other. And you have all payed a price for it. Some of you still are. But if any of you want out, say so now. I will completely understand. I can not put you in more danger.”

“Out? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sevika pushed herself from the table, incredulous. “Now I’m more in than I ever was.”

“Same,” Nyx added bluntly.

“You guys can’t do this on your own,” Jorin warned.

"We just don't want anyone else getting hurt." Vi said "This is some serious shit we're gonna have to deal with and you all already lost too much. You're not soldiers."

Jorin met her eyes. “None of us were soldiers when the Noxians came through,” he said quietly. “That didn’t stop us then. We aren’t leaving now.”

"We all got families down there." Sevika added "We need to stop this. I don’t care how many heads I need to crack."

Caitlyn drew a steadying breath. “You need to understand that the responsible thing to do would be to report this to the Council. But if I do, they’ll trigger Special Protocols, lockdowns, checkpoints, closed bridges. They’ll flood the Lanes with Enforcers. I would have no choice but to comply.” She rubbed her temple. “That response will cause panic and could push whoever’s behind this further underground, or worse, force them to use whatever this is if they feel cornered.”

Sevika grunted, crossing her arms. “She’s right. You start locking people down, they’ll riot. And if the Lanes think this is another power grab from the Topsiders, it’ll blow up before anyone finds your mystery bomb. Then you'll have chaos on both sides."

“Maybe that’s what they’re counting on,” Vi said. “Start a Topsider-Undercity fight and it’s the perfect cover. They can do whatever they want while everyone’s distracted.”

“And you’ll be too busy fighting riots,” Jorin added.

Caitlyn nodded grimly. “Exactly. But if we don’t act soon, we risk losing control entirely.”

Sevika leaned forward, brow furrowed. “And what if the Council finds out we’ve been keeping this from them?”

“Fuck the Council,” Vi blurted. She met Cait’s eyes. “Then we take responsibility for our choice. We make the call because it is the least destructive route.”

“I’d rather bear the Council’s wrath than watch the city burn,” Cait said.

“This isn’t gonna be a slap on a wrist. One mistake and that’s a one-way ticket to Stillwater, honey,” Sevika warned.

“I’m aware,” Cait replied, lips pressed thin.

A long beat passed. Then Nyx, ever direct, leaned on the table. “Then why don’t we just go straight for the mines? We know enough, that’s where they’re making it, right? Hit the source before they move anything.”

“We can’t just march in,” Vi said flatly. She lifted her chin, eyes sharp. “This isn’t one guy in one workshop. There’s more than one person involved and multiple locations, movers, handlers, buyers it even stretches to Piltover and as far as we know the Council itself. Which is one of the reasons we're keeping it under wraps.
If we take down a single node, the rest will scatter and rebuild somewhere else. We’d be chasing ghosts.”

Silence tightened around the map. Caitlyn’s gaze dropped to the red mark that indicated the mine, then rose, resolved.

“We need facts,” she said at last, voice cold with decision. “We can’t improvise a raid and hope for the best. Look what happened  last time. We need to know exactly what we’re dealing with, who’s involved, where it’s stored, every hand in the chain. Then I notify the Council and we organise one decisive action. One clean strike. Every Enforcer we have to dismantle the entire network. Kill the hive, not chase a single bee. "

She folded her hands. “We gather intelligence, confirm locations, map every contact. When we move, we move fast, coordinated, and final. No lone wolves. No loose ends.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gearhand said.

“And if we screw up?” Sevika raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t screw up,” Vi said flatly.

"Well, now when you're still in this..." Vi dropped the file on the table "Who’s up for breaking into fancy Topside lab?"


.....


The gala was in full swing, polished marble floors glinting under chandeliers, violins humming softly in the background, and the clinking of champagne flutes filling the air. Caitlyn looked effortlessly radiant in a sleek indigo gown that caught the light like silk water, hair pinned in elegant waves. Vi, on the other hand, looked criminally good in a suit that seemed one wrong move away from rebellion, black, sharp-lined with gold rims, and open just enough at the collar to show she hadn’t bothered with a tie.

But while Cait glided through the crowd like she’d been born into it, laughing lightly, discussing trade routes and council reforms with nobles and entrepreneurs, Vi had long since retreated toward the one safe zone in any fancy event...the buffet.

The table was practically groaning under the weight of it all. Platters of roast meats, towers of desserts, tiny, delicate finger foods she couldn’t even pronounce. Vi’s eyes darted around like a kid casing a candy store. She was mid-bite, something flaky and probably very expensive when Caitlyn’s familiar voice drifted from behind her.

“Careful, darling." She slid her around Vis waist and murmured into her ear "People might start to think you were invited for the food.”

Vi froze, then turned slowly, cheeks puffed full, a guilty look flashing across her face. She swallowed hard, painfully. “Hey Cupcake,” she said, trying for casual and failing miserably. “You uh… tried these little fishy things? They’re like tiny ocean sandwiches.”

Caitlyn arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “You mean the smoked salmon canapés?”

“Yeah, those.” Vi grinned, reaching for another. “Who names food like that? Sounds like something you rub on your feet.”

Caitlyn let out an elegant laugh placing adoring kiss to her puffed cheek and Vi instantly looked both proud and flustered. “Honestly, Violet, I should’ve known you’d end up hiding by the snacks.”

“I’m not hiding,” Vi muttered, popping another canapé into her mouth. “I’m strategically avoiding forced small talk.”

“Oh, is that what you call it now?” Cait teased, reaching past her for a glass of wine. Their hands brushed, and Vi’s eyes flicked to the contact, just for a second too long. Cait smirked knowingly.

“Y’know,” Vi said, leaning in with a mischievous grin, “you could ditch all that political mumbo-jumbo and join me. We could make a game out of it. Every time someone says ‘economic reform,’ we eat another one of these fishy things.”

Cait nearly choked on her sip of wine from laughter. “That’s absolutely brilliant idea.”

Vi agreed solemnly, already grabbing two more shoving one in Caitlyn’s mouth. “Makes this thing a hell of a lot more fun.”

Cait shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes as she swallowed a bite. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Vi said with a little smirk, “but I’m your impossible.”

Cait rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it. "Honesty, if I hear another proposal for the new trade plan I just might slash my wrists." She said taking a small cake from one of the tears. "Another ten years of this and I'll be gray like my poor mother. I always wondered what happened. Now I know."

Vi chuckled "We can always sneak out for some quality time behind the fountain."

"Absolutely not...You are not getting me into that trouble again."
Vi grinned with a shrug

"I should go back before they send a search party after me." she brushed her hand against Vi’s arm, subtle touch that sent a spark through Vi’s spine, and placed a quick kiss to her lips “Try not to eat the entire table while I’m gone,” Cait said lightly.

“No promises,” Vi called after her, already reaching for a plate of miniature tarts.

Cait didn’t even turn, she just waved a hand over her shoulder, laughing, her poise untouchable even in retreat.

And Vi grinned, watching her disappear into the glittering crowd.

.....


Caitlyn stood near the edge of the marble balcony, wine glass balanced between her fingers, a perfect picture of poise. The dress was immaculate, her hair pinned just so, every inch the daughter of House Kiramman, except for the subtle tension in her shoulders and the flicker of disdain behind her eyes.

Around her, the guests spoke in soft, measured tones. Faces she’d known since childhood, the old friends and allies of her late mother, wealthy, powerful, polished to perfection.

“…and if the Council approves the proposal next month,” one of them was saying, “the Hexgates could be operational again by winter. Imagine it, trade restored, the economy revitalised. Piltover’s golden age returning at last.”

“Indeed,” another sighed, swirling their champagne. “Progress waits for no one.”

Caitlyn took a quiet sip of her wine. The word progress tasted bitter tonight.

Someone turned to her, smiling too widely. “And what say you, Miss Kiramman? Surely one of Piltover’s most decorated officer would welcome such advancement?”

Every eye turned to her. For a heartbeat, she considered smiling and nodding, saying something harmless, something her mother might’ve said. But diplomacy was never her strength.

She lowered her glass with a soft clink.
“I think,” she began evenly, “that reopening the Hexgates mere months after the last malfunction is reckless at best and negligent at worst.”

A ripple of discomfort went through the group. A forced laugh. “Oh, come now, that was months ago...surely the scientists...”

Caitlyn’s voice sharpened like a blade sliding free. “And we agreed, did we not, that the Hexgate project would remain shut down? That was the deal the Council made with Zaun. Suspension of all teleportation research in exchange for peace, infrastructure funding, and a seat on the Council.”

Silence fell.

She continued, her tone cool and deliberate. “If Piltover intends to honor its word only when convenient, then perhaps it’s not Zaun we should be calling untrustworthy.”

Someone blinked, visibly taken aback. “My dear, surely you don’t believe....”

“I believe,” Caitlyn said, cutting in, “that you’re putting profit before principle. Again.”

The murmur around her turned uneasy. Another voice tried to smooth things over, but Caitlyn didn’t let them. Her gaze swept across the circle, level, unflinching. “You talk about progress like it’s a virtue, but the truth is, you’re gambling with people’s lives for prestige and trade margins. That’s not progress. That’s arrogance. Piltover shouldn’t build on graves just to fatten a few ledgers.”

A long pause. Glasses clinked somewhere in the background.

Someone blinked, visibly taken aback. “My dear, no one’s suggesting...”

“Yes, you are,” Caitlyn said, the words landing like stones. “You just prefer to dress it up in prettier language.”

Another guest cleared their throat, shifting uncomfortably. “You sound like one of those… Zaunite radicals.”

Caitlyn smiled then, not kindly. “If caring about the people who make your city run makes me a radical, then perhaps Piltover could use a few more.”

There was a beat of stunned quiet before she turned away, raising her glass to her lips again, posture impeccable, composure unbroken.

But as she glanced across the room, at the laughter, the empty charm, the endless hunger for profit, she felt the same chill that always settled in her bones at these events.

Born into power. Raised to lead.
But she’d never truly belong to their Piltover.

.....

Vi had just stacked her plate with a questionable combination of desserts when an elderly gentleman shuffled up beside her. He had a shock of white hair, round spectacles slipping down his nose, and was inspecting the spread like he was deciphering a crime scene.

For nearly a full minute, he just stood there, squinting at the platter of bite-sized pastries. Vi cleared her throat.

“You planning to eat somethin’ or just staring it into submission?”

The old man blinked, startled, then chuckled softly. “Oh...heh. Decisions, decisions. They all look… rather complicated.”

Vi leaned on the edge of the table, pointing casually with a fork. “Well, don’t take those little swirly ones. You’ll be chewing till next week. Go for the flat ones, they disappear faster.”

He glanced at her, amused. “Practical advice. You must be a professional.”

“Of avoiding boring conversations?” Vi said with a grin. “Absolutely.”

That earned her a laugh, a real one, warm and genuine. “You and I both, it seems. My wife is out there somewhere discussing art commissions, and I’m pretending to study pâté.”

Vi snorted. “So you’re hiding, too. Respect.”

They both shared a quiet chuckle, the kind that drew no attention. The man finally picked up one of the flat canapés Vi had suggested, turning it over as if still analyzing its structure.

“So what about you?” he asked, tilting his head. “You don’t exactly strike me as the mingling type.”

Vi shrugged, shoving a small tart into her mouth. “Nah. I’m just here to look intimidating and not break the furniture. My girlfriend does all the talking.”

He smiled knowingly. “Ah. The tall one with the sharp tongue and sharper mind?”

Vi paused mid-chew, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “You’ve been watchin’ us?”

“Hard not to. You two stand out, even in a room full of peacocks,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Though between us, you both look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Caught us,” Vi admitted with a lopsided grin. “So what’s your excuse, old-timer? Don’t tell me you’re just here for the fancy snacks.”

“Ha! Hardly.” He adjusted his glasses and took a sip of wine. “I’m here because the Council insists I attend these things. Keeps the funding flowing, I suppose.”

“Funding?” Vi asked, brow raised. “You some big-shot business type?”

“Not quite. Science,” he said with modest shrug. “I oversee the Hexgate research division these days. Ever since Jayce Talis passed, someone had to take up the reins.”

Vi straightened, the name instantly catching her attention. “Wait...you’re that guy?”

He smiled faintly. “That depends which rumors you’ve heard.”

Vi blinked, caught between surprise and respect. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re the one makin’ sure people don’t blow themselves up teleporting to the wrong city or turned into mindless robots.”

The man laughed softly. “A very poetic way to put it, but yes, that’s me.”

Vi smirked, half-impressed. “Huh. And here I thought I was the only one hiding out from polite society. Guess geniuses get tired of the talk too.”

“Oh, we do,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Especially when they start using words like ‘innovation synergy.’”

Vi barked a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re alright, old man.”

He gave her a small, knowing nod. “As are you, Miss Vi.”

She froze for just a moment. “...You know who I am?”

He smiled over the rim of his glass. “Of course. Sheriff Caitlyn Kiramman’s sweetheart. Hard not to notice the woman who shakes the ground when she walks.”

Vi blinked, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or a warning then grinned. “Guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.”

He chuckled, eyes glinting. “Few of us ever are.”

"So how's the freaky project going?" Vi asked leaning her hip on the table as she nibbled watching as the professor delicately rearranged his plate until his tone shifted.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “lately it hasn’t been quite so simple as I thought it would be.”

Vi frowned. “What do you mean?”

The man hesitated, glancing toward the crowd to make sure no one was paying attention.

“We’ve been noticing… anomalies,” he said at last. “The Arcane energy signatures we monitor they’ve begun fluctuating unpredictably. At first, we thought it was a calibration fault, but it isn’t.”

“Glitches?” Vi asked, brows drawing together. “Like, stuff just stops workin’?”

“Sometimes,” he replied, voice low. “But mostly patterns we can’t account for. And when it happens, the instruments,” He paused, pressing his lips together. “...they hum. Almost as if the machinery is… responding.”

Vi squinted. “Responding? To what?”

“That’s the troubling part,” he said, eyes distant behind his spectacles. “We don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s subtle, fleeting. I'm probably  boring you with all this."

"Not at all. But that’s a little spooky.”

He chuckled again, soft and knowing. “Yes. It is.”

......

At the other end of the ballroom Caitlyn changed the surroundings. She smiled politely as the man across from her, a stout fellow with silvered hair and a half-empty glass of wine sighed dramatically.

“I swear, Lady Kiramman, ever since the battle, you can’t find decent help anywhere,” he grumbled. “Half the workshops are short-staffed, the other half can’t keep their engineers from defecting to private contracts. I’ve been trying to secure someone competent for months. Someone who can actually handle systems and structural work.”

Cait tilted her head, feigning sympathy, though a spark of practicality flickered behind her eyes. “That does sound troublesome,” she said smoothly, setting her glass down. “What sort of project are you overseeing?”

He puffed up a bit, clearly enjoying the attention. “Reinforcement of the East District bridges. Hex-powered stabilisers, new support grids, rather specialised work. But all the qualified engineers are already tied up in reconstruction all over the city.”

Cait’s expression brightened slightly. “Actually,” she said, tapping her glass as if the thought had just struck her, “I might know someone.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You do?”

“Yes,” Cait replied, her tone even but purposeful. “He’s a Zaunite engineer, very skilled with Hextech mechanics and structural assembly both. I’ve seen his work firsthand. He’s recently relocated topside and is looking for stable employment.”

“A Zaunite?” the man echoed, his tone caught between surprise and hesitation.

Cait didn’t flinch. “Yes. He’s resourceful, meticulous, and… far more capable than most would expect.”

The man scratched his chin. “Hmm. I’m not in the habit of hiring from below, you understand.”

“Well,” Caitlyn said with a calm smile, " I also understand results. And I can personally vouch for his integrity. He's been working on several projects in Piltover already. If you’re serious about finding someone competent, he’s worth a meeting.”

The gentleman studied her for a long moment before finally nodding, conceding with a faint, thoughtful hum. “Well… perhaps I could consider it. If you’re willing to make the introduction.”

“Of course,” Cait said. “I’ll send you his information tomorrow.”

The man smiled faintly. “You drive a hard bargain, Lady Kiramman. Piltover could use more with your… initiative.”

Cait lifted her glass again, her lips curving just enough to pass for modesty. “It’s not initiative,” she said softly, her eyes flicking toward the far side of the room where Vi was still chatting with the old scientist. “It’s simply recognising potential where others refuse to look.”

.....

Vi wasn’t entirely sure how she’d been roped into attending one of these things again. The gold, the marble, the fake smiles, it was all a little too polished for her taste. She stood near the buffet table, a glass of something sweet in her hand, trying to look like she belonged while counting down the minutes until she could escape.

“Officer Vi, isn’t it?” a smooth, lilting voice asked.

Vi turned, her grin automatic. “That’s me. Though most folks just call me Vi.”

The woman before her looked like she’d stepped straight out of a portrait,  tall, elegant, wrapped in silk that probably cost more than Vi’s entire wardrobe. Diamonds glittered at her ears, and her smile was equal parts charm and calculation.

"Adrian" she extended her hand and Vi accepted

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she purred, brushing a curl from her shoulder. “Piltover’s enforcer from the Lanes. A woman of strength. That’s… rare around here.”

Vi blinked, caught off guard but trying to play along. “Thanks, I guess. We don’t get many compliments that don’t come with handcuffs where I’m from.”

The lady laughed, a high, practiced trill. “Oh, I’m sure. But I imagine you handle yourself quite well… in all sorts of situations.”

"That depends on what you would classify as handing." Vi snorted taking another sip of her drinking

"You definitely got sense of humour as well." The woman smiled like a cat with a cornered bird. Her hand brushed Vi’s arm, not by accident. “There’s something so… exciting about a woman who looks like she could break every rule in Piltover.”

Vi raised a brow. “Depends on the rule.”

The woman laughed lightly. “And what would it take to make you break one tonight?”

Vi’s brain gliched, her hand stopped mid-motion, a glass halfway to her mouth. “Ah,” she said, finally getting it. “Right. You’re not talkin’ about trade regulations.”

The woman tilted her head, intrigued. “You catch on quick.”

“Yeah, well, quick’s kept me alive.” Vi downed the rest of her drink, set the glass on a passing tray, and straightened. “Listen...You seem like a lovely lady, really. But I’m already spoken for.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And trust me, she shoots better than she looks. It was nice meeting you. I hope you enjoy your evening, now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my wife.”

Before the woman could respond, Vi was already walking off, hands in her pockets, shaking her head with an amused snort.

She spotted Caitlyn across the room, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by the polished smiles of Piltover’s elite. Vi made a beeline for her.

“Playing diplomat again, huh?”

Her voice came from behind her, low, amused, and just smug enough to make Caitlyn turn with a sigh she didn’t quite mean. Vi stood there grinning like she owned the place.

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. “It’s called networking,” she replied, her tone crisp but her lips twitching. “You should try it sometime.”

Vi chuckled, leaning closer. “Oh, I think I’m better at the kind of work that doesn’t need small talk.” She glanced at Cait’s untouched plate.

Cait rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Vi said with a wink, “You love me that way."

Before Cait could muster a clever retort, Vi reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the circle of well-dressed guests.

“Vi, what are you....”

“Dancing,” Vi said simply. “Come on, before some old fart asks you about trade tariffs again.”

“I am not dancing here, Vi,” Cait protested, glancing toward the polished floor where a string quartet was playing a soft waltz. “This is a formal event. There’s an order to...”

Vi was already leading her into the open space, ignoring every wide-eyed look from the crowd. “Relax, Cupcake. Nobody’s gonna arrest you for having fun.”

“That’s not...”

But it was too late. Vi spun her with a grin, one hand firm at Caitlyn’s waist, the other still holding her gloved hand. For a moment, Cait’s indignation melted into laughter she couldn’t quite contain.

“This is embarrassing,” she said, breathless.

“Maybe,” Vi grinned, stepping closer as they moved in imperfect rhythm. “But you’re smiling. So who gives a shit.”

Cait tried to keep her composure, but her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re lucky I like you,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Vi said softly, eyes warm now, less teasing. “I am.”

The music swelled, and for a heartbeat, the room around them faded, no nobles, no politics, no expectations. Just them, spinning under the soft glow of chandeliers, laughing like the world hadn’t just tried to break them apart.

The music softened into something slower, a gentle, wistful tune that seemed to hush the chatter around them. Vi’s movements slowed, her hands steady at Caitlyn’s waist as they found a natural rhythm. Caitlyn smiled faintly, her arms sliding up and draping over Vi’s shoulders, fingers brushing the back of her neck as she drew her closer.

For once, neither of them said anything. The weight of the world, the Undercity, the politics, the danger, it all felt distant, almost unreal. Just the warmth of Vi’s hands, the rhythm of their breathing, and the steady pull of the moment between them.
Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You ever wish life could just… be this? No councils, no criminals, no schemes. Just… us?”

Vi’s hand tightened instinctively at her waist. Her voice came quiet, rough around the edges. “Yeah. All the time.” She gave a small, almost helpless smile.

Cait smiled softly, her cheek brushing against Vi’s shoulder.

Then, without really thinking, Vi brushed her lips against Cait’s cheek, a small, fleeting kiss that lingered like a promise. The faintest smile curved Cait’s lips as she turned slightly, her eyes meeting Vi’s in the light. Vi kissed the tip of her nose next, earning the quietest laugh from Caitlyn, her fingers sliding up into Vi’s hair, stroking gently, grounding them both.

"I love you." She whispered

"Love you too" Vi whispered back as Cait’s head dipped back to her shoulder.

They swayed together, no perfect steps, no precision, just movement and closeness, the world falling away piece by piece.

For that one, fragile moment, there was no Piltover, no Zaun, no war waiting on the horizon. Just them, breathing in sync, hearts steady, wrapped in a quiet they both knew wouldn’t last, but cherished all the same.

......

A sharp knock echoed against the doorframe.

“Come in!” Caitlyn called, looking up from a stack of paperwork. Her face softened into a rare, genuine smile as Gearhand shuffled in, hat in hand.

“Uh, staff said you wanted to see me?” he asked, lingering by the door.

“I did,” Caitlyn replied, nodding toward the chair opposite her desk. “Plese do sit down.”

He pulled the chair, eyes darting between her neat piles of files like he was afraid to knock something over.

I have some good news for you. I met a gentleman at the gala who is looking for someone with your expertise. I've put in few good words for you. Said you come highly recommended. The interview is scheduled for next week."

"Oh...thanks...I appreciate that Cait I do but..."

Without a word, Caitlyn opened a drawer and pulled out a thin folder, sliding it across the desk toward him stopping him mid sentence.

He picked it up, brow furrowing. “Please tell me this isn’t food and loggings bill.”

Caitlyn smirked as she got up, she leaned her hip against the desk and folded her arms. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your new résumé.”

“My what now?” He blinked, flipping it open. Inside were neatly written pages, his name at the top, followed by a list of impressive credentials and glowing references each one with Piltover’s gilded headers. “Head of maintenance for the Piltover Academy? Assistant engineer to Professor Standish? I never worked for these people!”

Caitlyn tilted her head, looking entirely unbothered. “You have now.”

He stared at her, utterly lost. “I...what? I can’t just..."

“Let’s just say... I may or may not have called in a few favours.”

His jaw dropped. “You faked my work history?”

“I prefer the term strategically edited,” Caitlyn said, her tone dry but her eyes glinting with amusement.

He looked back down at the folder, then up at her again. “You realise this makes me look like I’m some kind of genius?”

“Good,” Caitlyn replied with a prim smile. “Try to live up to it.”

Gearhand blinked, then slowly broke into a grin. “Thank you, you have no idea what this means to me....and Elara. You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Frequently,” she said sweetly. “Now go before I decide to add ‘attitude management’ to your training plan.”

He was still chuckling as he backed out the door, clutching the file like a priceless treasure.

“Oh, and Gearhand?” Caitlyn’s voice stopped him mid-step.

“Vi’s taking you shopping this afternoon.”

His face twisted in pure confusion. “Shopping?”

“Yes. Clothes. You need to look presentable. No offense but your clothes don't reflect that résumé” She frowned

Gearhand looked down at his boots, one sole barely hanging on, and sighed.

“Consider it part of your… new image. Her treat.”

“What?" his head snapped up.

“She insisted, ‘helping the new guy not look like he crawled out of a gutter.’ Her words, not mine.”

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, boy." He smirked "I’ll probably end up in leather trousers with pink hair.”

Cait laughed, “If it helps”

"Thanks boss, I don’t .. I don’t know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just get the job or I will send you that bill." She smiled

“Noted,”

“Dismissed, Mr. Gearhand.” she laughed

....