Chapter Text
* * *
Caitlyn may have been young, but she knew what she wanted to be: An enforcer.
Someone who protected the innocent and brought wrongdoers to justice!
Just like Sheriff Grayson!
It would not be incorrect to say that the young woman idolized the sheriff -as she had ever since Sheriff Grayson had spoken to her during the party after the shooting competition she’d let Caitlyn win. After that day, Caitlyn’s path was clear, and the sheriff had humored Caitlyn’s endless questions.
She didn’t allow Caitlyn to tag along on any actual enforcer work, though . . .
But after Jayce was stolen from -and his apartment was nearly destroyed- Caitlyn had decided to tag along regardless. The whole city was buzzing about the burglary, and if that wasn’t enough, Caitlyn had a personal stake in the matter. So once she found out that the sheriff was investigating it, Caitlyn couldn’t stay away.
At first, it was easy to stay at a distance and follow. The streets of Piltover were straight and the day was clear . . . then Sheriff Grayson had gone into the undercity.
Caitlyn’s mother’s warnings rang in her ears. You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy . . .
She had been told in no uncertain terms to never enter the undercity. That it was full of dangerous and disgusting people who would rather take from others than earn an honest living. That the whole place was more or less one massive drug den. That only the enforcers stopped the riffraff into spilling over into Piltover, and ruining the city for everyone.
But then, her mother also told her not to be an enforcer, to stay away from Sheriff Grayson, and to go to dinners with young men her mother liked.
Mother is wrong.
So Caitlyn followed them into the undercity.
Immediately, the world seemed darker . . .
The proud bronze spires of Piltover that touched the sky were replaced with monoliths of stone that barely reached ground level.
The warm incandescent city lights turned into harsh fluorescent chemlights.
The straight streets twisted and turned.
The air hurt to breathe, stinging her throat and burning in her lungs.
And the people . . .
In Piltover, almost everyone went home in the evening, and stayed there at night. But the undercity didn’t seem to sleep, as market stalls were still open and doing a roaring trade. Groups of dangerous-looking people stalked around, all dressed in rough clothes that were asymmetric or striped or both.
Caitlyn clung to her gun, and the shadows.
Following Sheriff Grayson became harder -the undercity smog greatly reduced visibility, and the streets weren’t straight.
But Caitlyn had sharp eyes and curiosity -she wouldn’t give up.
They came to a street lined with storefronts to either side, and what looked like a wooden shed at one end. The shed’s door was broken, though, and it hung off its hinges. It was hard to see anything through the smog, so Caitlyn got close -but still hid herself in a nearby alleyway.
From a safe distance away, Caitlyn watched as Sheriff Grayson, Captain Marcus, and handful of other enforcers approached a store -one called ‘Benzo’s’. Sheriff Grayson and Captain Marcus went inside, while the remaining enforcers kept a watchful eye.
Then, a minute later, Sheriff Grayson and Captain Marcus walked out with two other figures, both hulking men with fair skin and dark hair. One had Marcus’ shackles binding his wrists.
An arrest? I can’t believe someone so big could burgle Jayce’s home so easily . . .
Then . . . a shape in the smog, large and fast, and-
Screams.
Shouts of fear and pain, and blood splattering into the air as one of the enforcers was torn apart by . . . by . . . by a monster.
But the monster was gone before Caitlyn could be sure she even saw it!
Then it swept back in and murdered another enforcer -and another, as they backed away and drew weapons, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but it was too late already!
Caitlyn stared, shocked, as a monster beat Sheriff Grayson into the ground. It was Caitlyn’s only clear look at the thing, seeing swollen, twisted muscles pulsing under gray flesh with raised pink veins, sandy blond hair and shining green eyes.
Then Caitlyn turned and ran, her courage long since having fled her as she went down the winding streets of the undercity until she was far, far away, and up the nearest elevator before she just kept running!
She barely noticed when the stone beneath her feet gave way to wooden planks, and the homes made of stone were left behind. She only noticed when she ran into a wooden railing, and realized that she was staring out at the ocean -she’d ended up at the docks.
If not for the railing, she would’ve fallen into the sea. Instead, Caitlyn threw up into it, overwhelmed by the horror and repulsiveness of what she had seen . . .
Then she curled up on the wooden planks of the pier, and cried.
* * *
The man, Silco, had seemed suspicious when Marcus first met him -of course he did. But the deal they’d struck was simple: Silco would give a tip, and Marcus would act on it. It was a common enough practice amongst the enforcers -their duty, really, to follow up on leads. Of course, it turned out that the tip was useless, which was hardly the end of the world. Bad leads happened all the time, and Marcus was only really annoyed that he looked like a fool and wasted his time.
Sheriff Grayson had thought it was a bigger deal than that -which didn’t make sense. He’s just a bar owner, and I was well within my power to search the establishment! It’s nothing either of us haven’t done before!
But apparently, the man -Vander- was a gang leader in the Lanes. The biggest gang leader, it seemed, Sheriff Grayson had a secret understanding with him. An unofficial, under the table deal not to look into his business so long as he kept it contained to the undercity.
Marcus was sickened by the corruption. Sheriff Grayson was supposed to be a paragon of integrity and justice . . . but she was working with a crime lord on the side. Perhaps it was for a good cause, but to Marcus, it seemed like the crime lord was getting a lot more out of it than the sheriff. After all, we could just go down there and bust him. Then haul him, his toady, and all the rest to Stillwater. Problem solved . . .
Then came the pneuma tube, the journey down to the undercity, where Vander was arrested -about time- while someone pounded on a door and screamed. Probably the actual burglar . . . but they’re nothing compared to Vander. We can always get them later . . .
And after that . . .
The screams.
The blood.
The death.
And the monster.
A man, swelled with muscle and mutated by something that turned his skin gray and made his eyes shine green. It was strong, too strong, but also blindingly fast -and vicious.
Marcus used to believe that a bullet would kill anything with if it was aimed well, but . . . whatever the creature was, it was the stuff of nightmares.
And it answered to Silco.
Then Silco said he’d changed the deal, and tossed him a pouch of coins.
Marcus had frozen, struggling to come to terms with what happened as Vander was dragged away.
All I wanted was to arrest those responsible for all this . . .
Now Marcus wandered aimlessly through the undercity, feeling the weight of the pouch of coins in his hand, the weight of death and betrayal.
That wasn’t the deal . . .
But Silco just . . . did it, tossing him the coins like it was nothing.
And one of the coins fell, tumbling over itself before landing in Sheriff Grayson’s blood . . .
Marcus couldn’t leave that coin behind when he walked away . . . and just kept walking.
He ended up near the sea, standing on rickety wooden planks that formed walkways out to where the ships were tied. The undercity subsisted on a great deal of fish, Marcus knew. Fishing, mining, smelting, founding, extracting, and refining were the undercity’s major industries.
That, and crime . . .
Marcus stared down at the bloody coin in his right hand, and the bribe in his left.
He wants me to keep silent about this, no doubt. Lie on his behalf, cover up the deaths of my fellow enforcers, of the sheriff!
Then he heard the cry, the sound of a young woman wracked with tears . . . and before anything else, Marcus was an enforcer. He had duties.
So he put the pouch on his belt and tucked the coin into his breast pocket, right in front of his heart. Then he hurried off along the docks, following the noise.
It didn’t take long before he found the source of it: A young woman.
A young Piltovian woman.
She was dressed in athletic clothes, and had pale skin and dark blue hair. She was young, perhaps in her mid-teens . . . and on her back was a rifle.
An enforcer’s rifle -and she wasn’t an enforcer.
There weren’t many people in the city who weren’t enforcers but could get their hands on such a rifle. Kiramman Arms was the company that made weapons and protective equipment for the enforcers, and Councilor Kiramman was famously secure about her goods . . . her and her family were the only civilians who were able to get their hands on an enforcer rifle with ease.
And of course, Marcus recognized Caitlyn from the many times she’d stopped by the precinct to pester Sheriff Grayson with questions. Marcus hadn’t been all too annoyed by the young woman’s behavior. It’s good for a Councilor’s heir to take an interest in the enforcers . . . we need all the help we can get.
Of course, the young woman’s pedigree did not particularly matter when she was curled up, crying, on the undercity’s docks. She was just a Piltovian in distress, and again, Marcus was an enforcer.
So Marcus knelt by her side.
“Caitlyn Kiramman,” Marcus said gently, more to alert her to his presence than anything.
She uncurled a little, looking up at Marcus with tear-filled eyes.
“Are you injured?” Marcus asked.
Caitlyn hesitated, then shook her head, seeming to pull herself together a little.
“No, I . . . I . . . what was that?” Caitlyn questioned.
Marcus furrowed his brow. “What was what?”
“That . . . thing,” Caitlyn replied. “The monster -it . . . it killed her . . .”
There was only one creature, and ‘her’, that Caitlyn could be referring to . . . and Marcus knew it.
“I don’t know,” Marcus admitted. “Whatever it is . . . it’s not safe here. We need to get you back to Piltover. Do you think you can stand?”
Caitlyn hesitated, then got her feet under her, and Marcus helped her stand up.
“Can you walk on your own?” Marcus questioned.
“Yes, I . . . I can walk,” Caitlyn said, then her brow furrowed. “It was . . . it was attacking you. How did you survive?”
Marcus felt both the pouch of coins at his waist, and the one over his heart.
“They weren’t after me,” Marcus confessed. “They wanted the man we arrested -Vander. I don’t know why. They just took him and left.”
“What about Sheriff Grayson?” Caitlyn asked.
“After you get home safe, I’ll come back for the bodies,” Marcus promised. “I won’t leave her here.”
“Are . . . are you sure she’s . . .” Caitlyn trailed off.
“Yes . . . that thing killed her,” Marcus confirmed. “And all the other enforcers. I’m the only survivor.”
“What . . . what happens now?” Caitlyn asked.
“We get you home safe,” Marcus replied. “And then . . .”
Marcus, once again, felt the bribe on his belt.
“I’ll bring her killer to justice,” Marcus vowed.
“I want to help,” Caitlyn whispered. “She . . . I liked her.”
“You can’t,” Marcus denied. “You’d have to be an enforcer.”
“I’m going to be an enforcer,” Caitlyn vowed. “What happened there . . . I’m not going to let that happen to anyone else.”
“I’ll be glad to have you on the force when the time comes,” Marcus replied. “But you have a lot to learn before-”
He was interrupted as, for a moment, night became day.
A flash of blue light, blindingly bright split the dark sky!
Marcus turned to see a blue mushroom cloud in the distance, sprouting from a building as power crackled into the air straight upwards.
The power of the arcane.
The very thing that started the investigation . . .
Marcus turned back to Caitlyn.
“Go back to Piltover -don’t stop for anything,” Marcus ordered. “If anyone gets in your way, shoot them.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “No, I-”
“Go!” Marcus commanded. “Now! This isn’t something you can deal with.”
Caitlyn hesitated, then nodded and turned away.
Once she turned the corner, Marcus took a deep breath.
Then he grabbed the coin pouch at his waist, pulled it free, and flung it into the sea.
I’m not corrupt, Silco. Not like Grayson was.
I’ll be who I always imagined Grayson to be . . .
With that, he turned and hurried off through the streets of the undercity.
* * *
Marcus didn’t know what he was expecting to find. But from a distance, he could see it: A bombed out building, little more than a wrecked shell surrounded by burning debris.
And in an alleyway nearby . . . a teenager with pale skin and pink hair. It matched the description of one of the children who’d stolen from the heir to House Talis.
All this . . . for her!
All of the investigating, the deaths of Sheriff Grayson and other enforcers . . . because of her.
But when Marcus’ gaze saw through the flames, and landed on the thin figure of a man with one black eye . . . Marcus knew there was a much more valid target for his grief and rage. He also knew that Silco would not hesitate to kill a child.
And Marcus was an enforcer.
She’ll suffer the due punishment for her crime -and that punishment is not death.
The teenager seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, so it wasn’t hard to sneak up on her, then clamp one hand over her mouth while his other arm wrapped around her throat. A perfectly executed strangulation, and she was unconscious in less than a minute. She wouldn’t be out for long, though, so Marcus reached for his handcuffs . . . and found that his were missing.
Because they were around Vander’s wrists . . .
Damnit.
But fate was smiling upon Marcus, because there was a length of rope nearby.
Marcus grabbed it, then dragged the kid a bit further away from the building -just in case- before tying her wrists behind her back. The knot was secure, and in fact, too tight -but she wouldn’t remained bound for too long. With that done, Marcus used the remainder of the rope to bind the girl to a nearby pipe, just to keep her from running off. Lastly, Marcus gagged her.
Then he stepped back, and turned to face the direction of the burning building.
In another life, Marcus would’ve simply dragged the kid away and left.
But Caitlyn’s mere presence had reminded him of his duty. He was an enforcer, and that meant something.
So Marcus strode back to the flames, closing in on the wreckage . . . and the man who stalked amongst it.
“Silco!” Marcus called. “I’m placing you under arrest. Come quietly, and you won’t be harmed.”
Silco paused, then turned to face Marcus as the enforcer closed in.
Then . . . Silco laughed.
Marcus hesitated as the incredulous chuckle rang out across the street, over the crackling of the burning wood.
“Do you truly think you are in any position to arrest me?” Silco asked.
Around the man gathered a half-dozen of his goons, all of them armed. One of them had been carrying Sevika, but she was put down in order to free up his hands.
“Look around you, and see what I’ve done,” Silco commanded, confidently bluffing. “A single bomb of mine has done all of this, removing the last threat to me.”
“You didn’t do this,” Marcus denied hesitantly. “The children, they stole the whatever that was.”
“And I took their father,” Silco pointed out. “They were willing to do anything to get him back, including handing over their spoils. Why do you think I took Vander in the first place?”
Marcus had never thought of the why . . .
“Now I have the power of the arcane and my monsters,” Silco continued. “And you truly think that you can arrest me?”
Marcus went for his gun, but Silco was faster -much faster.
His knife was at Marcus’ throat before the enforcer could blink.
“Vane, relieve him of that troublesome piece of metal,” Silco commanded. “In fact, take all of it. He has no need of weapons -he’s among friends, after all.”
Marcus stood stock still as he felt the weight of his pistol being removed, shortly followed by every other weapon on his person.
Once they were gone, Silco stepped back, letting his knife fall away from Marcus’ throat.
“Now, why don’t we make a new deal?” Silco suggested.
Marcus blinked. “What?”
“Did you know that your own sheriff made deals with Vander, the previous gang leader of the Lanes?” Silco asked conversationally.
Marcus was still trying to catch up to what was happening, and so he didn’t respond.
“It was quite a useful arrangement,” Silco informed. “So long as Vander controlled the undercity and ensured that they stayed out of Piltover’s business, the late Sheriff Grayson would turn a blind eye to many activities in the undercity. Racketeering, smuggling, fencing stolen goods . . . Vander had fingers in a number of pies. And Sheriff Grayson ignored it all.”
“What . . . what are you saying?” Marcus forced out.
“I’m saying that the undercity is now mine,” Silco answered. “But Piltover . . . I do not care about it. In fact, I am perfectly content to leave Piltover be, so long as they do not interfere.”
In other words, Silco would be the new Vander . . . and Marcus would be the new Grayson.
The thought of it was revolting.
Marcus wasn’t corrupt. He’d made a deal with Silco before, of course, but it was nothing that many enforcers hadn’t done. Nothing more than a promise to follow up on a tip.
But this?
This is too far . . .
Marcus shook his head.
“No,” Marcus denied. “The undercity isn’t yours, and I’d rather die than leave it to you.”
“Rather selfish of you,” Silco replied. “How many more of your fellow enforcers will die because of your decision?”
Enforcers?
Die?
“Oh, I suppose you haven’t thought this through,” Silco said, an edge of mockery in his tone. “What do you think will come from your defiance, Marcus? What will happen when you lead an army of enforcers down here, coming for my head?”
“We’ll arrest you and your whole gang,” Marcus tried to sound strong -and failed.
“You will try,” Silco replied. “But the smog will blind you, and within it will lurk my monsters. They will come for you, Marcus. One by one, every enforcer you send will die. The streets will be choked with their remains, so much that you will slip on their blood and trip on their bodies. But that, Marcus, is only the beginning.”
Marcus was already shaking in fear, the recent trauma he had seen and suffered welling up.
“Without the enforcers, Piltover is defenseless,” Silco continued. “There will simply be no one else to stop me. So my monsters will run amok, killing whoever they please. I believe you have a wife, Marcus, pregnant with a child? I will keep you alive long enough to watch as I-”
“Enough!” Marcus interrupted, his voice trembling with terror.
He couldn’t bear to hear what Silco threatened next.
He was too weak . . .
“I’ll do it,” Marcus growled softly.
He felt like was betraying everything he stood for.
He was no better than Sheriff Grayson . . .
Just another corrupt officer of the law . . .
It was for his family, for the enforcers, for all of Piltover . . . but it was still a deal struck, and a price paid.
“I’m glad we could come to an arrangement,” Silco replied. “Now, get out. There is important work to be done.”
Marcus staggered away, retracing his steps.
The young woman he tied up raged at him, gagless and screaming, but he didn’t even pay attention before he knocked her out again, then dragged her all the way up to Piltover, and marked her to be sent to Stillwater to serve her sentence.
That night, he clutched his wife close, and cried . . .