Chattered Crowns and Broken Bonds Ch 3: Flickers In The Chaos
The frequency of the attacks increased, spreading like wildfire. Markets, homes, local watering holes—both in Piltover and Zaun. The strain of it all pressed down on Vi, but it wasn’t just the bombs. It was everything. How could she not stop it? How could she not see it coming? Vi was certain they were connected but didn’t know how or why.
Vi had convinced herself to go back to Zaun. A break from everything. After all, most of their efforts had been centered on Piltover. But after the last attack—preventable, easily preventable—Vi couldn’t shake the memory.
She saw them, in her mind, tattered and grimy, a mix of Zaunite workwear and makeshift armor. And she saw the cloaked figure with blue eyes as they elbowed their way through the crowd. They carried crude weapons—pipes, bats, and the occasional knife. Their faces were twisted in desperation and rage, their eyes darting about like cornered animals.
“Stand down!” Caitlyn commanded, her voice cutting through the growing murmur of the crowd. Her rifle was unshouldered in one smooth motion, its sleek barrel gleaming even in the dim, dust-filled light.
The leader of the group, a wiry man with a crude scar running across his cheek, stepped forward. His hands were raised in mock surrender, though his grip on a rusted wrench remained firm. “We ain’t here for you, Sheriff,” he spat, his voice gravelly. “We’re here for answers. For justice.”
“Justice?” Vi stepped forward, her voice sharp. Her gauntlets hummed faintly, the tension in her stance unmistakable. “This isn’t how you get it. You’re just adding to the chaos.”
The man sneered. “Chaos is all we’ve got! You Piltover lot think you’re better than us—think you can just wipe us out whenever it suits you!” His voice rose with each word, and the crowd behind him responded with angry shouts of agreement.
“This isn’t about Piltover versus Zaun,” Caitlyn interjected, trying to de-escalate. “We’re here to find out who did this and hold them accountable. But you’re making it harder for everyone.”
“Accountable?!” A woman from the group shouted, her voice shrill with grief. “Like you held your precious Council accountable for all the times they bled us dry? For all the times they let us rot while you thrived?”
Vi’s jaw tightened, her fists clenching. “We’re not the Council. We’re trying to help.”
“Help?” The man stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “You want to help? Tell your Council to come down here and see the mess they’ve made. Tell them to feel the weight of their ‘progress.’”
The standoff stretched taut, the tension crackling like static in the air. Caitlyn’s mind raced, trying to find a way to defuse the situation without escalating it further. But before she could speak, a deafening boom cascaded from all around them in the marketplace, sending a shockwave through the crowd.
Dust and debris rained down as screams erupted. The ground trembled, and the group of would-be rioters scattered, their anger momentarily replaced by fear. Vi and Caitlyn exchanged a quick glance.
Caitlyn gestured toward the source of the explosion. “We need to move—now.”
Vi nodded, already stepping into a run. “Stay close,” she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying an edge of urgency.
As they surged forward, weaving through the chaos of the marketplace, Vi’s thoughts spiraled back to the cloaked figure. It had to be them. Why didn’t I stop them?
Her breath came faster, heart pounding in her chest. She ran harder, faster, even with her gauntlets weighing heavily at her sides. The alleys of Zaun stretched ahead—tight, winding paths with neon lights flickering above them. The figure was fast, and they knew the backways better than Vi ever could. She couldn’t let them slip through her grasp again.
They ran. They ran pushing people out of the way, on rooftops, in the back alleys. They ran until they came to a dead end, Vi watching the edge of a cloak disappear over the rooftops.
Vi yelled out punching the wall in front of them, cracking it from top to bottom, sending shock waves through the narrow alley in front of them.
“We had them!” Grimaced Vi. “They were right there and they got away. Our only lead in days.”
Caitlyn put a hand on Vi’s shoulder, “We’ll get them. This is the closest we’ve been.”
“Well it’s not close enough!” Vi shrugged Caitlyn’s hand off, taking a step forward.”
“Vi! I know you’re stressed about this-”
“Of course I am! It’s our job to protect people, and I don’t see a whole lot of protection happening right now. I see mobs demanding justice, I see criminals getting away.” Vi’s voice wavered between rage and something darker—desperation.
“Listen, let’s go back. We’ll regroup at home, come up with a new plan.” Caitlyn’s words were calm but clearly tinged with frustration.
Vi scoffed, sneering as she crossed her arms. “You don’t get it. This isn’t some neat, tidy plan, Caitlyn. This is life—real people are dying out here, and I’m not just gonna sit around waiting for some perfect strategy while they’re in pieces.”
Caitlyn’s voice faltered. “What—what do you mean?”
Vi looked Caitlyn dead in the eye, her words like poison. “Typical. Typical princess retreating back to her castle when it gets tough instead of getting her hands a little dirty.” The words landed like a slap.
Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with disbelief, the weight of Vi’s words landing like a slap. “What the hell, Vi?'" She took a step back, pain overtaking the anger in her voice. “Is that really how you see me? You think I’m just hiding behind my badge?"
Vi’s chest heaved with anger. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to make it worse. But it came out anyway. “Well, at least I’m not running headfirst into danger, fists raised, trying to punch my way out of my problems!” Caitlyn’s words were like a knife.
The silence hung thick between them for a moment, neither one willing to look the other in the eye. Vi’s heart pounded in her chest, but underneath the anger, a twinge of guilt gnawed at her. Caitlyn, too, felt the sting of Vi’s accusations.
Vi’s breath slowed, but the damage was done. She turned away, rubbing the back of her neck, her face hard. Caitlyn stood still, staring after her, unsure of what to do next.
The silence hung thick between them for a moment, neither one willing to look the other in the eye. Vi’s breath slowed, but underneath the anger, a twinge of guilt gnawed at her. Caitlyn, too, felt the sting of Vi’s accusations.
Vi’s breath caught, and she turned away, rubbing the back of her neck, her face hard. Caitlyn stood still, staring after her, her own heart hammering with the weight of the fight.
“Well, at least I’m doing something,” Vi spat under her breath.
Caitlyn’s dam broke, her voice shaking with the exhaustion of it all. “Yes, something stupid! Do you want to get yourself killed?”
“That’s irrelevant! You sit there twiddling your thumbs while the world burns down!”
“Well, maybe we should split our efforts!” Caitlyn shot back, her words bitter.
Vi’s breath caught in her throat. “Maybe we should.”
“Fine!” And Caitlyn ran off, her boots echoing down the alley. Vi stood alone, her anger simmering beneath the surface, watching Caitlyn disappear into the distance, the weight of her words still ringing in her ears.
The neon lights of Zaun flickered like the last breath of a dying star. Vi stood on her balcony, the city’s chaos below her reflecting the turmoil inside. She’d been here for weeks now—drinking, fighting, letting the city’s filth get into her blood. The alcohol burned like acid down her throat, but it didn’t stop the ache.
It didn’t make the images of Caitlyn’s face, the last fight, the last words they exchanged, go away.
“Damn it,” Vi muttered, slamming her glass down on the balcony’s railing. She didn’t have time for this. She was wasting time. Ain’t nobody gonna fix this for you, Vi.
Without another thought, she was out the door and into the thick of Zaun’s streets. A low rumble in her chest. Anger was better than regret. It was something she could hold onto, use.
A clamor rose from an alley up ahead—some kind of fight, or maybe a robbery. Didn’t matter. It was all the same.
She rounded the corner, cracking her knuckles as she stepped into the chaos. Two Zaunites were tussling, shouting curses, swinging pipes at each other. One caught a wild punch, sending him stumbling toward Vi. Without missing a beat, she grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off his feet.
“Wrong fight, buddy,” she growled, throwing him into a dumpster with a sickening thud.
A crowd gathered, muttering. Vi didn’t care. She cracked her neck and scanned the area. Someone’s gonna give me a real fight tonight, she thought, itching for something harder, something more. She needed to feel something, anything.
It was like the city was made for this—the constant churn of violence, the thrill of adrenaline. She could feel the pulse of it in her veins, the same rush she felt when she was in the pit. Every fight a release. Every punch a little closer to forgetting everything. Forgetting Caitlyn. Forgetting Jinx.
Another figure stepped into the alley—a familiar face. A sharp voice cut through her thoughts: “Vi, stop.”
It was Caitlyn. Vi didn’t need to hear the rest. She didn’t need to hear her concern, her pleading. She stepped forward, swinging a fist into a guy’s ribs, shoving him aside.
“Still trying to play hero?” Vi growled, her eyes narrowing.
“Vi!” Caitlyn stepped closer, but there was something different in her voice, something more desperate this time.
Vi shook her head, snapping back. “I don’t need your help, Cait. Get the hell out of here.”
But Caitlyn didn’t back down, her voice cutting through the noise of the street: “Vi, I know you’re angry, but you can’t keep throwing yourself into this. You need to—”
“I don’t need anything from you!” Vi’s fists tightened. Her body was shaking with rage, with something darker she couldn’t quite name. This wasn’t a fight she wanted to have, not with Caitlyn, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Caitlyn’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, the walls Vi had built crumbled. But only for a second.
"You’re gonna break yourself like this." Caitlyn’s voice dropped low, a mix of concern and something else—something deeper. “You’re not just fighting them, Vi. You’re fighting yourself.”
Vi stiffened. Caitlyn’s words weren’t the ones she wanted to hear right now. She wasn’t looking for advice, wasn’t looking to be fixed. She was looking for something to hit. Something to punch. Something to take her mind off all the shit that had been eating at her from the inside.
“What the hell does that mean, Caitlyn?” Vi’s voice was rough, like she was fighting not to snap. Her fists clenched even harder.
Caitlyn hesitated, but there was no stopping her now. “I’ve been thinking... about all the attacks. About everything that's been happening. The pattern, the timing. It’s too... organized to be random, Vi. It’s not just the riots. It’s something bigger.”
Vi cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t care for Caitlyn’s theory—it wasn’t action, it wasn’t something she could hit. But Caitlyn wasn’t finished.
“You’ve seen it, too, haven’t you? The bombings, the chaos, it all fits together. It’s a setup. Someone's pulling strings, and they’re using the riots to mask something else. It’s bigger than we thought, Vi.”
Vi shook her head, biting back the urge to shout. “You really think that’s it? That someone’s pulling the strings? That’s your big theory? Some shadowy mastermind? What the hell does that even mean for us? What do we do about it?”
Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes searching Vi’s, like she was trying to reach through all that rage and pain. “I don’t know yet. But it means we can stop it. We have to stop it, or they’re going to destroy everything.”
Vi stood there, fists still clenched, her body radiating tension. The alcohol in her bloodstream buzzed like static, making her feel restless, raw.
She stared at Caitlyn, the words she’d been holding in finally coming to the surface.
“I don’t care about some shadowy conspiracy, Caitlyn. I just want to stop the bombs. I want to stop the people getting hurt. I want to—” She cut herself off, not sure if she was trying to convince Caitlyn or herself.
Caitlyn wasn’t giving up. “Vi, we have to work together. This isn’t just you anymore. This is bigger than both of us. I think-I think we need to talk.”
Vi met her gaze for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t sure where the path would lead, but she wasn’t ready to walk it alone.
“Fine,” Vi muttered, breaking the silence. “We do it your way. But this better not be some wild goose chase.”
Caitlyn’s relief was palpable, but she didn’t smile, didn’t let up on her seriousness. “We’re stopping something that’s coming for both of us.”
Vi didn’t respond, but her posture softened, just a little. It was a fragile truce—one forged from anger, frustration, and a little bit of hope. The kind of hope she couldn’t afford to ignore.
Caitlyn led the way down the alley, her voice now steady and sure. “Let’s get to the bar. We need to talk. This..this is important.”
Vi followed, her eyes narrowed and her fists still tense. For the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of something else in her chest, buried beneath the anger. Maybe Caitlyn was right. But she wasn’t going to let herself believe it—not yet. Not until they had answers.
As they walked down the streets to The Last Drop, the neon lights above them flickered and guided them. The music started getting louder and that’s how Vi knew they were approaching.
The two walked in silence, words unsaid between them, and then they were in the bar. Vi sat down and ordered herself a strong drink. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to forget this night yet, but wanted to leave her options open. She’d hear Caitlyn out at least.
An uncomfortable silence built between them until Caitlyn opened up first. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
Vi stiffened up, eyes still firmly in front of her refusing to make eye contact. She wasn’t expecting that and if she looked at Caitlyn in the eyes, well it would be over for her. “I guess I’ve missed you too.” She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, physically trying to remove how awkward she felt. Truthfully, she had missed Cait. The way she smirked when she was called Cupcake. The way her hair smelled fresh. She missed teasing her about every little thing. But this was a fundamental difference.
Caitlyn chimed in, clearing her throat after an awkward pause. “Well, perhaps we should compare notes on what we’ve discovered?”
Obviously Vi was not ready to talk about her feelings, but Caitlyn needed to talk to her. She’d been lonely without her. Her home, cold and empty without Vi’s warmth, her teasing. And it was probably time to tell her. Her investigation was distinctly pointing in two possible directions. It was time to tell her about her Jinx theory. About everything. The vents, the graffiti she’d found at other attacks in Piltover after Vi left, the piece of metal that looked like a chomper.
Vi slowly shook her head before bringing her drink up, throwing her head back and downing the remainder of it. Vi decided she probably wanted to forget tonight. “Hey! Another one!” Shouted Vi to the barman who obliged. Vi took her new drink to her lips and began sipping. “Well,” Vi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, “go ahead I guess.’
Caitlyn softly chuckled, always to the point. But then the ghost of a smile on her face fell as she realized what she was about to say to Vi. She was almost, no, she was positive Vi wasn’t going to like this.
“Vi, I... I don’t know how to say this,” Caitlyn begins, her voice cracking slightly. She looks down, shaking her head. “I’ve been trying to make sense of all this, but there are things—things that don’t add up, and...” She pauses, struggling to get the words out. “I discovered some interesting clues. The hexgates have vents in them. All of them.” Vi just stared, sipping at her drink, so Caitlyn continued. “And while we’ve been investigating the attacks in Piltover…someone left graffiti.”
“Are you going to get to the point Caitlyn? This sounds-”
“I think Jinx might still be alive.” Caitlyn finally blurted out, the dam that had been holding this information back burst and it terrified Caitlyn.
“What?” She looks up sharply, her face hardening immediately. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not. I... I know it sounds insane, but there are things—pieces I’ve been finding. Things that don’t make sense. I’ve been—” She’s stammered a little, but she can’t hold it back anymore.
“I’ve been tracking these attacks, and they—they have the same signature as her old ones. I’m not saying it’s definitely her, but I can’t just ignore it. Not to mention the vents in the hexgates. It’s a small possibility, and again, I’m not saying it’s her, but there's a chance.”
“So you’re saying that for weeks, you’ve suspected that and haven’t told me? And now that chaos is reigning around us, you suspect Jinx?!” Vi’s voice rises in disbelief and anger, the stress of weeks of emotional turmoil spilling over. “What the hell is wrong with you, Caitlyn?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know what to believe anymore! All the pieces are there, but—there’s just something off about them. There’s something...” She hesitates, not quite able to explain it, her mind racing with all the conflicting evidence. She’s clearly torn, but the truth is—she’s worried about Vi’s state of mind.
“Jinx is dead, Caitlyn!” Vi’s voice breaks as she digs her nails into her palms, blood slowly bubbling to the surface, fighting the raw emotion that rises to the surface. “She’s gone! I couldn’t save her, and now you want me to what… hope? Don’t do this. Dangling this false hope in front of me? You’re pompous, but I never once took you to be cruel.”
“Vi, I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m just trying to—”
“You’re not trying to hurt me?” Vi spits the words out, the anger and sorrow mixing into a volatile force. “I’ve spent every goddamn day thinking about what happened to her. I lost her, and it was my fault. Now you're saying she might be alive, and you expect me to just... hope? You think I haven’t lived with this pain enough?”
“I don’t know, Vi! But we need to know the truth, no matter how much it hurts.”
“At what cost! I’ve lost everyone! They’re gone, and now you just casually bring up that my sister- who I saw die right in front of me- might be alive?” Vi’s chest felt tight, like someone had been stepping on it as her breathing became shallow. Fear, anger, regret, guilt all twisting and knotting in every crevice of her body. “You never change do you? I’m done with this. I’m done.” Vi stood abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor as she threw her unfinished drink at the wall where it shattered, liquid rolling down to the floor. Vi’s breath catches as the glass shatters, and for a split second, her mind flashes back to that moment with Jinx. The weight of the guilt almost overwhelms her. She stares at the wreckage of her drink, her throat tight, before storming out of the bar, leaving Caitlyn standing there, helpless.
Caitlyn sits back down at the bar, ordering herself a strong drink as well and begins nursing it. She wanted to forget this night.
Vi didn’t go far after storming out of the bar. She wandered the streets of Zaun, fists clenched, picking fights, grabbing any bottle of alcohol she could get her hands on. How many had she had? One? Two? Six? She couldn’t remember. However, the buzz of alcohol in her blood was fading now, leaving her raw and hollow. Every step echoed in her head, her earlier words to Caitlyn replaying like a broken record.
" I never once took you to be cruel."
The memory of Caitlyn’s face stung more than any punch she’d taken tonight. She’d seen Cait’s eyes harden, her shoulders tense—like she was trying to hold herself together while Vi tore her apart. Caitlyn wasn’t cruel. She was the farthest thing from it. Vi knew that. She’d always known that. But she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out, from letting her anger and guilt spill over onto the one person who’d stood by her through everything.
She ended up leaning against the rusted rail of a bridge overlooking Zaun’s industrial depths. Smoke billowed from chimneys, mixing with the neon glow of signs that flickered in and out of life. The city was a mess, a fractured, chaotic maze of survival. She’d always seen herself as part of it—another broken piece in the rubble. But Caitlyn? Caitlyn didn’t belong in the dirt. Cait didn’t deserve to be dragged down by her.
Vi rubbed her bruised knuckles absently, staring into the distance.
She pushed off the railing, her breath visible in the cold night air. She needed to go back. She needed to fix this—not just for Caitlyn, but for herself. Because the thought of losing her, of letting her walk away, was something she couldn’t bear.
Vi walked back into The Last Drop hours after the argument, her footsteps dragging, knuckles bruised, a pounding headache, but she didn’t know if it was from the cheap shots or the cheaper booze. The tension between her and Caitlyn still lingered in the air, but she’s exhausted—emotionally and physically. She pushes the door open, the soft jingle of the bell above catching her ear. It’s late. Most of the patrons are gone but there at the bar was the unmistakable dark navy blue hair of Caitlyn, still at the bar, hunched over on her elbows nursing a drink, three or four empty cups surrounding her. Her bloodshot eyes flick toward Vi, but she doesn’t say anything.
Vi stands still for a moment. The weight of the silence between them is suffocating. She hates it. She wants to walk out, to just get away again—but she doesn’t. She can’t.
"I shouldn’t have said that," Vi mutters, barely above a whisper. Her voice is hoarse. She swallows hard, hands clenched at her sides. “About you.”
Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. She tilted her glass, watching the liquid swirl before taking a slow sip. Caitlyn snorted quietly, shaking her head. “Which part? The part where you called me cruel? Or the part where you made me feel like I don’t matter?”
Vi looked down at her hands, guilt tightening her chest. “All of it,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean it, Cait. I was just... angry. At everything. And I took it out on you.”
“You think that makes it better?” Caitlyn finally turned to face her, and her eyes burned with something that cut Vi to the bone. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed what you said? How many times I’ve wondered if... if maybe you’re right? That I’m just sitting here, planning while people die?”
Vi’s jaw tightened. “You’re not like that. I didn’t mean it, Cait. I swear. You’re the one keeping things together while I... while I fall apart.”
“You think you’re the only one who’s hurting, Vi?” Her tone is soft, slurred from the alcohol, but there’s an edge there- a knife sliding between ribs. Her hair is disheveled, her cheeks blotchy. “Vi, I’ve been barely holding on. Every night, I think about the people we’ve lost. About what I could’ve done differently. And then there’s you. You’re out there, getting hurt, getting angry, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it. I’m not running away. I’m just trying to keep us from losing everything. I’m trying to be smart. That’s why I plan.”
Vi shakes her head. "I know. I just..." She trails off, unsure of what to say. The guilt, the anger, the grief—they’re all tangled up inside her. She wants to yell, but she’s too tired. Too raw.
Caitlyn’s gaze softens. “We’re in this together, Vi. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but we are. I’m not going anywhere."
Vi looks down, her fists slowly unclenching. “I just… I want to fix this. I want to stop it.”
"We will," Caitlyn says. "But we have to do it together. No more running off. No more breaking apart. We’ll figure this out. Together."
“Together.” Agreed Vi as Caitlyn’s communicator began beeping. She looked at the screen and sighed.
“It’s the council again. They want a report.” Caitlyn began to stand up pushing herself away from the bar but began to topple over.
“Woah there,” called out Vi catching Caitlyn before she collapsed. “We’ll give them a report, but you’re in no condition tonight to do that.” Retorted Vi.
“What do you mean? I’m fine. See, watch.” Caitlyn broke free of Vi’s arms, straightened up, took a step and immediately began to collapse.
“No,” Pushed Vi. “You’re not.” Caitlyn Just stared into the clear blue eyes of Vi before pouting. Vi laughed, a deep laugh. A laugh she hadn’t heard in weeks. One that she missed. “Come on Cupcake. We’ll go back to my place and first thing in the morning we’ll head to the council. Give me your communicator. I’ll let them know you’re dealing with a lead in Zaun.”
Caitlyn put the communicator in Vi’s palm as she made her way back down to the stool she had been sitting on. The blue glow of the screen illuminated Vi’s face. Caitlyn just watched as Vi’s face twitched while she was punching the message. The shadows contouring some of Caitlyn’s favorite features. Her lips, her cute nose, how expressive her eyes are even when she isn’t saying anything. She has to touch her again. Feel her skin underneath her fingertips, so she reaches up, hesitantly at first, fingertips lightly brushing the Vi tattoo under her eye and then lets her hand rest on Vi’s cheek. Vi keeps punching in the message, but lightly leans into Caitlyn’s hand, but then she’s done with her message. “Ok, sent. Councilwoman Verel will see us tomorrow.” Caitlyn pulls her right hand back cradling it in front of her heart with her left, trying to remember the feel, the heat of Vi’s skin underneath. “Let’s get out of here.” Caitlyn just nods slowly standing up as Vi takes her arm and wraps it around her neck to offer support.
The two saunter out of the bar, Caitlyn leaning on Vi, and Vi leaning in on Caitlyn. The don’t talk as they leave. They don’t have to. They may have been partial apologies, but the wounds from the words they spoke together were already beginning to heal with each step they took on the street back to Vi’s apartment.
Approximately half an hour later they were stumbling in through Vi’s front door. “Sorry,” Caitlyn mumbled, they’d have been back faster if she wasn’t this drunk but Vi didn’t mind. Vi’s apartment wasn’t fancy. In fact it was pretty bare. A tiny kitchen and a bed that took up the majority of the space. Papers and papers littered the floor and were pinned up to the walls, undoubtedly Vi’s investigation, but Caitlyn’s eyes were too blurry to read anything.
Vi brought her over to the much too large bed for the tiny apartment. Vi turned their bodies to help Caitlyn sit on the bed and Caitlyn immediately fell back onto the mattress into what had to be an uncomfortable contortion of Caitlyn’s body. Vi just chuckled. “I never took you for a sloppy drunk,” she teased.
“I’m perfectly fine, I’ll have you know,” came the muffled voice of Caitlyn.
“Sure. That’s why you’re collapsed on the bed and not standing up.”
“Well…you’re drunk too. You were drunk when you came back to the bar.”
“Yeah, but I can actually hide it.” Caitlyn just groaned into the mattress and then made some unintelligible sounds. “What was that?” Questioned Vi.
Caitlyn managed to pick her head up to turn it and blew away the strands of hair in her mouth and face. “I said, keep me company. Please?”
Vi stood there for a moment, her gaze flicking between Caitlyn’s face and the empty space beside her on the bed. Caitlyn’s request lingers in the air, soft but urgent. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes that’s impossible to ignore, and Vi feels a weight settle deep in her chest—a heaviness she’s been carrying ever since their argument.
For a long moment, neither of them moves. The silence stretches, but it’s different now. Not the tense silence of earlier, but something softer, something aching. Vi swallows hard, biting back the words she doesn’t know how to say.
"Okay," she finally mutters, the word barely louder than a breath, and she moves toward Caitlyn, her feet dragging like lead. She sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. Caitlyn doesn’t look up at first, but then she shifts slightly, glancing over at Vi with a soft, almost hesitant smile.
Vi hesitates for just a second longer before leaning forward, her hand finding Caitlyn’s. Her fingers graze over the back of Caitlyn’s hand, her touch tentative, almost as if she’s waiting for Caitlyn to pull away. But Caitlyn doesn’t. Instead, she turns her hand over, her palm open, her fingers curling around Vi’s as if they’ve done this a thousand times before.
“I’m sorry,” Vi says, her voice rougher now, the words tumbling out before she can stop them. "I never meant it—what I said about you twiddling your thumbs. I don’t... I don’t want to lose you." Her breath catches, and her throat tightens. The guilt, the grief—it all comes rushing back, a flood she can't hold back anymore.
Caitlyn looks at her then, her eyes wide, the weight of the moment sinking in. She lifts her free hand to touch Vi’s cheek, then her fingers brush against the tattoo on her shoulder—light, tender, like a silent apology of her own. Vi closes her eyes at the touch, her chest tightening, something fragile and raw building in her gut.
“I’m not going anywhere, Vi,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “I just... I just need you to stay with me. Please.”
Vi nods, the simple act of it a promise she didn’t know she needed to make. She leans closer, until her forehead is resting gently against Caitlyn’s. She can feel Caitlyn’s warm breath against her skin, and the simple act of being close, of being in this moment, feels like a release.
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere either,” Vi says, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m the dirt under your nails, remember?”
For a moment, they stay like that, forehead to forehead, both of them trying to breathe through the tension of everything they’ve been through. But slowly, gently, Caitlyn shifts, her fingers moving to the back of Vi’s neck, pulling her down with a quiet urgency. Their lips meet—softly at first, hesitant, like they’re both afraid of breaking something that’s already fragile. But then the kiss deepens, the heat and desperation of it pushing them both to the edge of everything they’ve been holding in. Fingers gripping each other’s hair, trailing every piece of exposed skin.
When they pull away, breathless and flushed, Caitlyn doesn’t let go of Vi. Instead, she pulls her down with her, until they’re lying side by side, Caitlyn’s body pressed against Vi’s, her head resting against her chest. Vi wraps an arm around Caitlyn’s waist, holding her close as if she could protect her from everything—everything outside this room, everything they’ve been through.
Vi feels the slow, steady rhythm of Caitlyn’s breathing, and for the first time in what feels like forever, her own heart begins to slow. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters but this—the feel of Caitlyn’s body against hers, the warmth, the quiet comfort of having someone she can trust completely.
"Stay," Caitlyn murmurs again, her voice soft but firm, as if it’s the one thing she needs to say.
Vi tightens her hold on Caitlyn, burying her face in her hair. “Always,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion.
The words hang in the air between them, a promise that doesn’t need to be said again. Slowly, they both drift into sleep, tangled up in each other, the weight of the world outside forgotten for just a while.
In that moment, they find something they’ve both been searching for—peace, connection, and a place to heal together.
The morning came much too quickly for either of them. Caitlyn was always the early riser between the two of them. So when the light began peaking through the window of Vi apartment she groaned. “Who turned on the light?” Rasped Caitlyn.
Vi stirred beside her, drawing her closer into her arms as she murmured, “That’s the sun, Cupcake.”
“Well it’s dreadful. Too bright.”
Vi just snickered, “Too much to drink last night?”
“I may never drink again,” affirmed Caitlyn.
“Well that’s a promise I can’t keep.” Retorted Vi. The two laid there silently listening to the rhythmic breathing from each other. Caitlyn felt Vi’s steady heartbeat on her back. Finally Caitlyn turned over, blinking and squinting at the too bright sun as she did so until she faced Vi. Vi’s eyes remained closed but she was clearly awake.
“Goodmorning.” Whispered Caitlyn.
“Goodmorning.” Vi responded, eyes opening.
It was like they were back at Caitlyn’s house, back into the routine of things. It felt comfortable, reassuring.
“My head’s a little fuzzy. Remind me, don’t we need to be somewhere?” Prompted Caitlyn.
“Mmmhh yeah. We’re meeting with the Verel this morning. Giving her a progress report.” Chimed in Vi voice croaking from the deep sleep she had just been woken from. She didn’t want to, but she sat up. They did need to get ready. It wouldn’t look appropriate for the Sheriff of Piltover to show up in a creased and dirty uniform.
The playful teasing softened as Caitlyn stretched her arms over her head and gave an exaggerated groan. "I don’t know how you do it,” she muttered, still half in a daze. “How are you not dead right now? You were just as drunk as me, and now you're... you’re basically fine.”
Vi rolled her shoulders, letting the tension ease out of her neck. “I’m just built different, Cupcake.” She winked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Besides, I’ve had worse mornings, you know?”
Caitlyn frowned, her fingers still massaging her temples in an attempt to relieve the pounding headache that hadn’t quite eased. "I think I deserve a medal just for making it out of bed after last night." Her voice was teasing, but her eyes still carried the weight of the emotions they’d both been carrying through the night—the unspoken apology, the kiss, the promise.
Vi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair and started pulling it on. Her mind was still partly lingering on the night before—on the rawness of the moments they’d shared in the apartment.
"Come on, Cupcake," Vi said, her voice lighter now, snapping her out of the moment of thought. "You don’t get to act like you’re the only one who’s been destroyed. I’m in far worse shape than you."
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow but gave Vi a playful smile. “That’s true. I do recall you stumbling out of that bar like you were on your last legs. And down the street. And up the stairs. You sure you’re not gonna die on me today?” She reached out to grab Vi’s arm, her touch still slightly unsteady but firm.
Vi stopped, her hand resting on Caitlyn’s for a brief moment. Their eyes met for just a beat too long—just enough for the unspoken history between them to seep back into the quiet space.
"I'm not going anywhere," Vi said softly, as if to herself. She squeezed Caitlyn’s hand before gently pulling away. "But if you really want to save me from dying, you’d get your ass out of bed and help me get ready. We’ve got that meeting in an hour."
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but there was something warm in her expression now, the humor still lingering in her tone. “Fine. But only because we have to meet with the Verel. I’m not doing it for you.”
Vi grinned at that, a familiar spark lighting in her eyes. "Of course, Cupcake. Anything for the job."
They both stood up, Caitlyn slightly wobbly at first, but she regained her balance quickly enough, shaking out her limbs as if she could will away the hangover. Vi moved to the small kitchen area, grabbing a glass of water and handing it over to Caitlyn, who accepted it gratefully.
“I really hope we’re not running into anyone with more than half a brain today,” Caitlyn muttered, taking a long sip of the water. “Because I don’t think I can fake a decent conversation right now. My brain’s still running at about 50 percent capacity.”
Vi smirked, her eyes scanning the clutter in the apartment. “Well, you can’t always rely on your charms, can you?”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Caitlyn gave Vi a playfully irritated look but couldn’t hide her smile. She took another sip of water, then turned back to the bed. “I’m going to need more time to wake up, Vi. You’re on your own for the first round of the Verel meeting.”
Vi raised an eyebrow as she pulled a shirt on, her tone laced with mock innocence. “You’re not planning on faking sick on me, are you?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
Vi chuckled, amused, and tossed Caitlyn a clean shirt she had left out for her. “You’ll manage. Trust me.”
Caitlyn slowly pulled herself to her feet, clutching the shirt in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, watching Vi get ready—her movements so practiced and calm, like she had done this a thousand times. Caitlyn, on the other hand, still felt like she was adjusting to this new, quieter dynamic between them. It had only been a few hours since they were at the bar, but it felt like they had crossed some invisible line, one that made the silence between them easier to live with.
Before Vi could notice, Caitlyn was right behind her. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around Vi from behind, her cheek resting gently against her shoulder. Vi froze for a moment, then relaxed into the hug, letting her hand rest over Caitlyn’s as she gently squeezed her wrist.
“Thanks,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice soft. “For last night. For... everything.”
Vi didn’t answer at first. Instead, she turned in Caitlyn’s arms, her face serious for a fleeting second, before the familiar half-smirk returned. "You know, you’re really lucky I like you, Kiramman."
Caitlyn chuckled softly, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. “And here I thought I was lucky you tolerated me.”
Vi gave her a playful shove, and Caitlyn stumbled backward, but the grin never left her face.
“Come on,” Vi said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Let’s get through this day. Verel won’t wait for us to finish our hangover recovery.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but followed Vi to the door. She was already preparing herself for the day ahead—the nerves about facing the Verel, the responsibilities that would inevitably pile up, and the heavy weight of knowing that their fragile peace wouldn’t last forever.
But for now, she was grateful for this quiet moment between them. The kind of peace they both needed.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go save the city, Detective.” Caitlyn grinned, and for a moment, it felt like everything might just be okay.
Vi shot her a look, her tone teasing but warm. “Only if you’re lucky, Kiramman.”
The two made their way out to the street and to the nearest hexdraulic conveyor. The climb felt like it would take forever to complete. After a quarter-mile walk, a switch to another hexdraulic conveyor, some stairs, and another quarter-mile walk to get to the government building, they finally arrived at the office of Verel.
It was a simple door. Wood frame and iron latches. While it matched the elegant attire Lyra Verel was accustomed to wearing, it didn’t nearly meet her commanding presence. Verel had a way of getting people to listen—naturally, effortlessly. Perhaps that was why she had been entrusted with the role of Councilor of Public Relations and Diplomacy. Though she was relatively new to the council, it was well known that she could make or break anyone with a carefully worded speech. She knew how to make people feel heard, understood.
Caitlyn knocked on the door. She was the sheriff, after all.
“Enter.” A steady, warm voice greeted them from inside the room. Caitlyn turned the iron handle, twisted it, and pushed the door open.
The room was pristine—an effortless blend of elegance and power. The walls, a soft shade of cream, were adorned with minimalist art. Natural light streamed through the large windows, but it was the view that caught Caitlyn’s attention for a moment. From the window, Piltover sprawled beneath them—orderly, polished, and vibrant. It was the kind of view a woman like Lyra Verel would appreciate: far-reaching, expansive, and calculated.
Lyra Verel sat behind a polished oak desk, her form draped in a sleek charcoal dress with gold accents that shimmered as she moved. The outfit was deliberately understated, but in its simplicity, it conveyed confidence and control. Lyra herself seemed to exude a calm, commanding grace. She was poised—almost unnervingly so. The space around her felt carefully curated, not too grand, but just enough to make anyone who entered take notice.
“Ah, Caitlyn, Violet. Thank you for coming this morning. I understand you’ve been chasing down a lead,” Lyra said, her voice smooth and warm—inviting. She smiled as she spoke, and the sincerity in her expression was almost disarming.
“Yes, Councilwoman. Vi and I thought separating our efforts might help cover more ground,” Caitlyn replied, her voice steady despite the dull throb in her skull.
Vi remained still by Caitlyn’s side, her gaze never straying far from Lyra. The subtle warmth in Lyra’s voice made her feel like she was being welcomed, but there was a quiet intensity beneath it—an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed.
Lyra’s eyes flicked between Caitlyn and Vi, pausing just a moment longer on Vi. There was nothing overt about the way she looked at them, just an observation—an understanding. Vi couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt like Lyra was the kind of person who always knew more than she let on.
“Well, I trust you’ve made some progress?” Lyra continued, her voice still as smooth as silk. She rose from her chair in one fluid motion, the soft rustle of her dress the only sound as she moved toward them. “The people of Piltover rely on their protectors to be thorough, especially when the safety of our city is at stake.”
Lyra’s gaze shifted slightly to Caitlyn, but there was no pressure in her look—no judgement. Only the sense that Lyra was absorbing everything, waiting for Caitlyn to offer up what she knew. It was as though the woman had an innate ability to put others at ease, making them want to share.
“We’ve made some connections,” Caitlyn began, rubbing her temple. “After cross-referencing notes, it seems that all the attacks trace back to a single individual. We don’t have much more than a thin trail, but we’re working on it.”
Vi stepped forward, cutting into the momentary silence. “There’s someone behind the scenes, directing these acts. We need more information to move forward.”
Lyra’s eyes flicked to Vi once more, her expression unreadable, but there was something about the way she studied Vi’s face that felt almost…reassuring. Lyra wasn’t questioning them; she was listening. Really listening.
“I see,” Lyra replied, her voice soft but carrying weight. She nodded thoughtfully, almost to herself. “The people of Piltover deserve answers, certainly. And we must ensure their safety at all costs.” She paused, then added, her tone shifting to something more personal: “But remember, Violet, Caitlyn—sometimes, the truth is more elusive than we realize. There’s always more beneath the surface.”
The words hung in the air, not ominous, but strangely comforting. There was no threat, only a quiet understanding, as though Lyra was reminding them of the complexity of their work—a complexity she seemed all too familiar with.
Caitlyn blinked, pulling herself out of the fog of her headache. “Of course,” she said. “We’re just trying to piece it all together.”
Lyra’s gaze softened again, and she placed her hands together on the desk, fingers interlaced. The gesture was almost maternal, as if she were patiently waiting for them to get to the next part of the conversation.
“I trust you both,” Lyra said, her voice gentle, but steady. “And I believe in your commitment to Piltover. You’ll find the answers you’re looking for. You always do.”
Vi was still, but Caitlyn could see the faintest glimmer of relief in her eyes. Lyra’s calm composure, her belief in them, felt like an anchor in the storm of their investigation. The words felt genuine—there was no manipulation here. Just support.
“You’re doing good work,” Lyra added, her smile widening just slightly. “I’m sure the people of Piltover appreciate it.”
But then, just as Caitlyn felt herself begin to relax, Lyra's voice shifted, ever so subtly, like a breeze before a storm. She paused, her eyes locking onto Caitlyn's with a faintly knowing gleam.
"So, Caitlyn," Lyra began, her voice warm but laced with an uncanny precision. "How are you feeling today? You seem… a little weary. It must be difficult to juggle so many responsibilities." She gave a small, sympathetic smile, as though understanding the burden Caitlyn carried. "We can hardly expect a sharp mind when you’ve spent the night running after ghosts."
The words, though casually phrased, hung in the air like an unseen weight. There was no accusation in her tone, no harshness. But the way she said it—so effortlessly, so calmly—it made Caitlyn’s heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, feeling the blood drain from her face. It wasn’t just the hangover. There was something about Lyra’s tone, her observation, that made her feel exposed.
Caitlyn quickly masked her reaction, clearing her throat. “We’re making progress, Councilwoman,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unease starting to bubble beneath her skin. “We just wanted to make sure you’re aware of our findings, and that we’re doing everything we can to ensure the safety of Piltover.”
Lyra’s lips curled into something more genuine, as though she appreciated the effort, but Caitlyn didn’t miss the sharpness in her eyes. It was almost as if Verel was watching them too closely. Studying them. Judging them.
The silence hung in the air for a moment, thick and suffocating, before Lyra gestured to the chairs across from her desk.
“Please, sit. We can discuss this further. Perhaps over tea?”
Vi hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking briefly to Caitlyn. But after a moment, she nodded, accepting the invitation. Caitlyn followed, still slightly on edge, but the sense of calm that Lyra projected was beginning to settle into her chest.
As they sat down, Caitlyn glanced at Lyra again. The soft gleam of the green stone still tugged at her thoughts, but she quickly shook her head.
No, it was probably nothing. Just a glint from the sun.
Lyra’s smile remained, warm and reassuring. But Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a little too perfect. Every word Lyra spoke, every gesture, every glance—it was all so carefully constructed.
They spoke about the graffiti, how both Zaun and Piltover were being targeted. The scraps of metal left at the scene. But not Jinx. Caitlyn was worried how Vi might react if Caitlyn brought this up in an official meeting. Before long two hours had passed. The tea had helped Caitlyn’s headache, and Vi was openly talking now about the difficulties faced by the people of Zaun.
“Well I will most definitely pass along this information Violet. It is important that all our citizens are being taken care of.” Did Vi actually swell? It was a little cliche, but Caitlyn thought it was cute.
“Ladies, I’m afraid we must end this lovely talk. I have another meeting to attend.” Lyra stood up, hands clasped in front of her torso. Caitlyn and Vi followed suit. They thanked the councilwoman for her hospitality and left the office.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad.” Decried Vi.
Caitlyn was unsure. Lyra reminded her too much of her own mother—commanding, regal, and always several steps ahead. It wasn’t just the way Lyra spoke; it was how her words lingered, how they made Caitlyn question if she’d already given away too much. Caitlyn jared herself back into the moment to answer Vi, “No, it wasn’t bad at all. It seemed like she was really listening.”
“Yeah. It did.” Agreed Vi.
The two walked a pace in silence reflecting on the meeting, until Vi spoke up again.
Vi stretched her arms above her head as they exited the council building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the street. “Well, that wasn’t a total waste,” she muttered, glancing at Caitlyn.
Caitlyn rubbed her temple. The meeting had helped, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind—the familiar tension that came with being just one step behind. She glanced at Vi, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“There’s something bigger at play here,” Caitlyn said quietly, her gaze drifting to the graffiti scrawled on a nearby wall. A crescent moon, jagged and incomplete, caught her eye. “I just don’t know what.”
Vi followed her gaze, frowning. “Yeah, well, whoever’s behind this, they’re playing dirty. And I don’t like being in the dark.”
Caitlyn sighed, stepping closer to the symbol. Her fingers brushed against the edge of it, and a strange unease settled in her chest. “This isn’t random. It’s deliberate.”
The scene lingers for a moment, the weight of their uncertainty hanging in the air.
Far below, the same crescent moon symbol burned like a brand against the darkened walls of Zaun. Ekko’s pulse thundered in his ears as he pushed himself harder, faster, weaving through the alleys like a shadow. The figure ahead of him was close—closer than they’d been in weeks.
He wouldn’t lose them this time.
Ekko’s breath came fast, his pulse roaring in his ears. The figure ahead—a blur of shadows, hooded and swift—darted through the alleyways, just out of his grasp. But this time, Ekko was determined. He wasn’t going to let them slip away again.
The figure glanced over their shoulder, but Ekko was closing in, faster now. He was quicker, more focused, pushing himself harder, weaving through the crumbling streets and rusted obstacles. He could see them. Almost there.
The figure dashed into a narrow gap between two buildings, and Ekko followed, leaping over a pile of debris and cornering them.
In one swift motion, he grabbed the figure, spinning them around and slamming them into the wall. The hood fell back.
The shock hit him like a physical blow.
There, staring up at him with wide, wild eyes—the unmistakable gleam of purple staring into his.
Ekko’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers tightened around their wrist, still holding them in place, but his mind was racing. He stared down at the face beneath the hood—the sharp curve of the jaw, the high cheekbones, the wild disarray of their hair. It was all so familiar.
Everything in Ekko’s chest seized.
He blinked, trying to push away the disbelief clawing at him. But there was no denying it. Those eyes. The ones that haunted his every thought.
The world seemed to drop away, leaving only him and her—frozen in this moment of impossible reality.
The words stumbled out, hoarse and disbelieving.
“Jinx?” The name caught in Ekko’s throat, heavy and unfamiliar after so long. He barely recognized her—wild and defiant as always, but with something fractured beneath the surface. His grip tightened, though his chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid.
Her lips twisted into a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You found me,” she said, her voice light but trembling slightly at the edges. “Congratulations, Boy Savior.”
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