Chapter Text
It felt strange, sitting on her bed again.
For years, she’d sat on that slate of a rock called a bed in Stillwater and glared at a wall of stone bricks.
Now, she sat here, in her bedroom above the Last Drop, the old place so drastically different. She remembered coming to bed each night, worry and stress crunching down on her shoulders, and reminding herself that she was doing all this for Pow. She’d stare at the wall and she’d see all of Powder’s drawings, saved from all the years, taped and pinned in a haphazard jumble and mess, always a constant reminder of why Vi put on her gauntlets for and why Vi fought against the chembarons gripping her city in their cold hands.
And now, suddenly—here she was, years later, staring at not just the wall but instead a gigantic mess of boxes, stuffed with junk and clothes and things she couldn’t remember at all.
It’d been disorienting. Waking up in the hospital. Staring into the face of a Powder several years older than Vi last remembered. Looking at a Vander with much more gray hair and much more wrinkles crowding the corners of his eyes.
Then, her.
The explanation.
The last thing Vi clearly remembered was the restrained fury, the burning rage, her knuckles punched into the walls of Stillwater as she thought of that sleazebag Marcus and how he’d set her up. She’d remembered Enforcers stuffing her away into that tiny, cramped cell, miles beneath the surface. She’d remembered Marcus’s gloating laugh as he’d walked away—triumph in his smug grin as he told her the chembarons of the undercity would pay him well for his deed in locking away the deadly Hound of the Underground.
She’d remembered that justice was a twisted thing, a corrupt thing. She remembered Piltover as a city of overlords, filled to the brim with wealthy men who cared little for their supposed cousins across the river—cousins they were all too happy to crush underneath the heel of their boot, to grind to dust and bone and powder if it meant coin filled their pockets.
She’d remembered long days spent in that cell listening to the jibes, snickers and sneers of her jailers and that fucking cane from the damned Warden.
She’d remembered Enforcers were a blunt edge for the criminally powerful to beat down their will.
But the explanation.
The truth of the present. Of Vi’s lost memories.
It’d upended everything Vi believed in. Everything she knew.
A Piltie cop had broken her out.
A Piltie cop and her had teamed up to clear out crime in the undercity, and topside.
The Piltie Sheriff was her longtime partner.
Vi had been in love with the Piltovan Sheriff.
Impossible.
Vi had nearly thrown up when she’d found out. The acid burning in her gut had made her double over. That couldn’t be true. A fucking cop? The Sheriff? She was just supposed to believe one of the wealthiest women in Piltover, nepo baby of one of the oldest houses in both cities, just had a heart of gold and decided one day to ‘do good,’ oust Marcus with a boatload of evidence, and then take his place with an intention to ‘do good’ for both cities?
And, somehow, someway, Vi had fallen in love with this woman.
Vi had heard a lot of insane fairy tales in her lifetime but this absolutely took the cake. There was absolutely no way in hell that someone like this actually existed. No Piltie would be this generous, this kind, or even, fuck, this open-minded. Absolutely no way. There had to be some other angle to her, some kind of hidden agenda to satisfy her thirst for power or something, just so that she could sit on her golden throne in the Sheriff’s office and lord it over everybody else.
It was hard enough believing Powder and Vander—and Ekko—when they’d told her the past few years had been remarkably better for both their cities. She’d walked around Zaun with them once she’d been discharged from the hospital, took in the sights as Powder and Ekko pointed at fixed-up buildings, nicer streets, and Vi even saw children frolicking about the plaza.
That was a miracle in and of itself. A crazy thing Vi never thought she’d see in her lifetime. The kids didn’t even look half-starved. That was the reality Vi was used to.
Vi still didn’t know if she truly believed this newer image of Zaun.
If she felt uncertain about her own home, gods, Vi couldn’t even describe the emotion she still felt at being told her supposed soulmate was the fucking Sheriff of Piltover.
The first feeling she had was instant revulsion. Each time the thought occurred to her or she was reminded of it, Vi had to resist the urge to throw up.
The second feeling she had was sheer confusion. How could she, of all people, fall for that kind of Piltie? Everything Vi knew about herself indicated she’d rather eat glass than kiss a woman from topside who embodied the entirety of everything Vi despised about Piltover.
The third feeling she had was—and she hated thinking on this feeling, hated how it cowered in the corner of her heart. A part of her felt this weak little thing, shrouded in a misunderstood grief. Sadness, that she couldn’t remember what it was like to be that loved and to love that deeply in return—on an insane kind of level, because if Vi couldn’t believe she’d fall for a Piltie, the reverse was true too.
Why would Caitlyn Kiramman fall in love with her?
A flash, of the last time they’d met. Blue eyes cut with hurt and rejection Vi had stabbed out loud.
A knock on her bedroom door stirred Vi out of her thoughts, and Vi looked up to see Powder huffing and puffing, her arms cradling a large box.
“Fuck, Vi, you have so much junk,” Powder said under her breath, dumping the box amongst the rest of the stacks of boxes. A huge puff of dust immediately assaulted her as she dropped the box, and Powder went into a coughing fit, waving her arms around. “Vi! I thought you said you were gonna clean up!”
“Sorry, got tired,” Vi said, standing up from her bed. “And look, from what you guys told me, this room has years of dust bunnies in here. Gonna take me time to clean it all up.”
“Okay, well, I’m not helping you with that because you’re a big girl now and you can do whatever you want with your room,” Powder said, hands on her hips. “Anyway, I think that’s the rest of your stuff.” With a somewhat tense expression, she added, “Caitlyn said this is everything of yours, anyway.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Carefully, Powder said, “You…really sure, you don’t wanna…try to live with her again?”
“I don’t fucking know her, Pow,” Vi snarled, and the intensity of her tone had Powder looking taken aback.
“Hey,” Powder said sharply. “She’s not—Caitlyn’s—-you know what? I’m not gonna argue with you again, you’re just gonna upset me and you’re just gonna harp on on how Caitlyn’s a bitch—”
“I didn’t say she was a bitch, she’s a Piltie cop, Pow—”
“We are not arguing this shit again,” Powder said flatly, scowling. “I don’t have time for that and I’m tired of fighting with you and I don’t wanna be mad right now. I just came here to dump your shit and tell you Vander has dinner downstairs.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to—I’m just trying to get used to things, okay? Give me a break,” Vi said, sighing, running a hand through her hair. “I just—I need time, Pow. Okay? The last thing I remember is Pilties burying me alive in Stillwater so for me this is all still a bit…raw. Living with her just—it’s sort of the same feeling. I can’t explain it.”
Powder’s face softened, and she did a half-hearted shrug. With a sigh of her own, she said, “Okay, I get it. Prison was…tough, for you, I know. Sorry. I—I won’t bring up Caitlyn again. Take things at your own pace, sis. See you for dinner.”
Powder turned around and left, and Vi stood in her old bedroom, with all her boxes of things. She opened a box, and saw clothes she didn’t recognize.
This was her life now. She’d have to find it again.
—-
It felt strange to be lost in her own city.
She’d grown up here. She’d gotten used to the winding streets, the crooked pipes, the endless tunnels crisscrossing this way and that across the city’s ancient and creaking body. She’d known every nook, cranny, shadow, corner, dilapidated alleyway—she’d known it all, knew this city’s palm and its lines and streets that stretched like fingers in every direction. She’d known its underbelly, its intestines, its gross insides, knew where bile and acid spit out into the streets, raw chemicals bloating and hissing as blood coursed through the lines in the cobbled paths.
But, now?
Vi stood in the plaza of Zaun, and saw a pristine statue of Janna standing guard over a fountain—where children laughed, cheered, and chased each other around in the clean water.
She saw Piltovan and Zaunite merchants crossing the plaza, arms bundled with wares, talking avidly with each other. She saw sunlight poking down from all the way up in that distant sky, and when she turned her head, what had once been permanent shadows staining the walls, she instead saw the glow and warmth of the sun’s touch, lighting up the vibrant and bright graffiti painted across the town.
Light. Light, all the way down here.
Vi had been used to the Promenade, the topmost part of Zaun, as its only peak, the only place where the sun ever touched Zaun’s stretching fingers, its tiny claws pointed up towards the sky. Yet, here—in the Entresol, Zaun’s belly and chest where its lungs used to heave smoke and smog and all manner of chemical, Vi found the air clean, the streets devoid of runoff and sludge, and light, light touching the pathways, the walkways, the roofs of all these places that had barely ever known the world above (from what Ekko and Powder had told her of the Sumps, the deepest part of Zaun was still an off-limits area; years of awful waste waste that’d settled far below in the caverns and tunnels and abysses beneath Zaun had made the entire area as off-limits as it had been in Vi’s time).
The Entresol Vi had once known now looked like a heaven. It didn’t wheeze, it didn’t spit. It breathed, it laughed.
She watched a Piltovan band of musicians set up on a small platform to the side of the plaza, a Zaunite sound engineer helping check their instruments, her tattoos proudly displayed on her arms as she clapped the Piltovan guitarist on the shoulder. The guitarist burst out laughing, leaning in close to whisper another joke into her ear.
Vi found her feet wandering away from the scene. A few streets over, in the main street where Vi was used to seeing all manner of Zaunite peddlers selling wares both above and below board, she instead saw a cleaned street, Piltovan and Zaunite and all manner of tourists bustling about the crowded road, bunching up in front of popular stalls selling Zaunite trinkets and gadgets alongside Piltovan tech and gear.
Food stalls were packed with visitors and tourists, and even Jericho’s booth was full to bursting, the big man waving his giant knife at Vi for a split second in greeting before he furiously returned to chopping up the next dish for his clamoring crowd.
With practiced movements, Vi climbed up a fire escape, her hands trying to remember the feel of the metal, the touch of the old city she once knew, but when she reached the rooftop, she found herself looking down at a place she didn't know.
This Zaun.
It was free.
Sitting down on the edge of the rooftop, Vi drew her legs up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around herself.
For so long, all Vi had thought about was taking down the chembarons and freeing Zaun from their corruption. She’d spent so many nights out in the streets, her fists and gauntlets meeting chembaron lackeys and goons with a fervor and intensity that had fashioned her a name feared by the worst of the undercity. She’d—she’d never even dared to picture, or imagine, if her efforts would ever pan out. Vi had fought the good fight but she’d never imagined that the good fight could—could end. She’d never let herself believe that it was possible Zaun could be better, and that she’d even be alive to see it. The chembarons had always seemed like less a thorn but their presence lingered and stained the air, the walls, like a permanent smog.
For them to be…gone?
Powder and Ekko had told her as much. The Wardens—Vi, with them—had cleared the streets, rounded up the worst of the worst. Shimmer factories, dismantled. Chembarons, thrown into jail. Recovery efforts—tripled, quadrupled, intensely so. Piltover had begun its steps towards repentance and reparations for letting its sister city fall to ruin.
Vi stared at a city changed. It was everything she could’ve ever dreamed of.
Vi glanced down at her trembling palms. She’d committed her life to fighting. To thinking that she’d die in a crusade for her city, her family, the people she loved most. Fighting had been her days and her nights.
The laughing, smiling Zaun down below her, though? There were no monsters hiding in the shadows anymore.
Vi rocked back and forth, eyes glazed over.
—-
Her body felt different too. Older. More aches.
Vi knelt down in the dirt, rolling her shoulder back and grimacing.
There was a big community garden here at the Firelights base. Where once it’d been a big secret, Vi now saw all manner of folks traveling in and out of the entrances, hauling boxes of supplies, or some wearing work outfits for the day to help tinker with old pipes or even get down and dirty in the garden too.
Ekko had given her a job. He’d always been a good-hearted man, but for the first time in a long time, Vi saw lights of hope in the boy’s—man’s—eyes. Ekko was happy. The Ekko Vi remembered had had a permanent scowl—mirroring her own—and a deep-seated bitterness in his voice when he spoke of all the work left to do to clean up Zaun.
But now? He chatted animatedly to some Piltovan engineers at the base of the Firelights tree, pointing and detailing the map of old, long tunnels in Zaun and how they intersected with the sewer system and infrastructure of both cities. He laughed and cheered with the children as they all played amongst the tree’s roots, chasing the little butterflies that flit about, their wings shining with color in the afternoon sun. He spoke with the gardeners, some Zaunite, some Piltovan, about how to cycle out the crops on each plot to keep the land healthy, and the mixed team would nod and agree, jotting down notes.
So different.
Vi dug a little hole, and tossed a seed in. She buried it. Her shoulder burned again. She rolled it back, hissing through her teeth.
She glanced up. Others around her did the same work, brows furrowed in focus.
“You doing alright, Vi?” came a familiar voice.
Vi looked up to see Scar, the man standing over her with a friendly smile.
“Don’t tell me your head got so fucked up you don’t know how to dig a hole,” Scar said.
Scoffing, Vi said, “I see you’re still a big asshole after all these years.”
“Ekko assigned me Chief Asshole. S’why I get to order you around now.”
“Good thing I’ve never been good at following orders then, Chief Asshole.”
They both burst out laughing, and Scar offered a hand to help Vi stand up, but Vi couldn’t help the sharp twist of her mouth at all these old aches and pains flaring up again in her arm, her shoulder, the crook of her elbow.
“‘Ey, ‘ey, take it easy.” Scar gently took her arm in his hands, his thumbs lightly pressing and massaging on Vi’s arm. “You don’t remember, but you really tore your body up in a few fights. Don’t push yourself too hard, Vi. The garden’s not gonna die if you don’t put all of you in it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, really need this.” Vi glanced around again; the peace of the place blanketed her with a soft touch. “I just…I don’t know what I’m doing, Scar,” Vi whispered.
The man paused, and Vi hesitantly glanced at him to see Scar’s expression was a mix of things; pity, concern, care.
“I think if you took the me from a couple of years ago, and transported him to now, yeah, I think I’d be feeling a little lost too,” Scar answered, just as quiet. He continued massaging Vi’s arm, occasionally angling it this way and that to critically get a good look at it. “Hard to believe the place is like this, isn’t it?”
“Hard to believe—anything, anyone is like this. Remember when we all just—it felt like a constant warzone? I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about that.”
Letting go of her arm, Scar just sighed. “Yeah, I remember that. But, look, Vi, we gotta keep moving forward. I know you’ve kinda just got back, but look up, forward, alright?”
“But…how?”
“What do you mean, how? You’re gardening right now, aren’t you?”
“No, no, not like that, I mean—fuck.” Vi huffed, putting a hand on her hip. “Like, I’m—I’m used to being out there. You know? Doin’ shit, clearin’ the streets. I don’t—I don’t know if I can do stuff like this all the time, everyday. And—I tried hanging out with Pow, and Ekko, you know? I followed Pow around but I could tell she was gettin’ tired of me just tagging along with her everywhere. She has friends, from the Academy. Hell, she gets along better with half the crowd in Piltover and Zaun than I ever did. Same with Ekko. I mean—I can help them fix shit, but I’m not—them, you know?”
Vi had been used to being their older sibling, the leader of the pack. Now, back here, in this future she’d never been able to imagine, Vi saw Ekko and Powder had grown into themselves, become people down here, in the way Vander was now. Ekko had a never ending stream of people coming and going from his office up on the tree, the man himself always out and about in town or at the base, helping, advising, talking to people. Powder rarely stayed at home for longer than an hour every day—in fact, most days, Vi felt like Powder was either tinkering in her workshop or heading topside to hang out with her friends there, the woman always out and about, socializing, laughing, meeting folks topside and bottom, sometimes helping with some small issue or another. Both Ekko and Powder didn’t need Vi anymore, not in the way they used to; they’d made lives of their own in these two cities.
“Damn,” was all Scar said.
“That’s all you got to say?”
“I’m not a fucking therapist, Vi.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
“Chief Asshole, to you.”
“Scar, shut up.”
Scar let out a rough laugh, before shrugging his shoulders, the mirth slipping off his face. “Look, I get it, Vi. You’ve always been a fighter, yeah. But we don’t need a lot of fighting out here anymore. Maybe, try a few things around town? S’there anything you’ve always wanted to do, but never did because we were out there punching baddies?”
“I…I dunno. I know gardening’s just a bit too boring for me. I mean, it’s nice, I just don’t think it’s for me.”
“Hah, yeah. Same for me.”
“Well, what do you do now then?”
“Me? Teacher,” Scar said with a grin, his teeth bared. “Seriously, pretty good job. Get to hang out with a bunch of kids all day, teach ‘em the ropes of how to grow up here. I split duties with a Yordle named Teemo. The guy’s really into teachin’ kids survival skills and shit. Could let you drop in on a lesson sometime, if you want.”
“Yeah, I—I can try.”
After that, Scar took his leave, telling Vi he had to pick up the kids from school and herd them all back to the hideout for their evening survival lessons. Vi continued gardening for a little while longer, still thinking about her newfound freedom—freedom from her sibling responsibilities, freedom from fighting crime, freedom from the person she’d been before.
As evening came around, Vi helped some Firelights with prepping the free meals made for the daily community dinner, before she headed up the Firelights tree to Ekko’s office to call him down. Just as she turned the corner of the doorway, though, she heard a voice—
“Thank you, Ekko, this will help—”
And then Vi saw her.
Her.
Caitlyn.
Ekko, next to her. The two, at his desk. Looking at his maps.
Caitlyn.
Caitlyn straightened up, glancing around—and then did a double take when she saw Vi standing in the doorway.
They both stared at each other. Vi stared longer than she should have.
It’d only been weeks since they’d last seen each other.
Caitlyn looked—the same, but her clothing. Different. The sheriff wore clothes befitting a Zaunite, frayed and asymmetrical at the junctures of her shirt and trousers—a look that caught Vi off guard. Vi didn’t know why she was so surprised; was it because Caitlyn was here, wearing clothes that somehow seemed to fit her in a way that didn’t make sense? Or maybe it was because Caitlyn looked at her again with those blue eyes, impossibly blue—a color stolen from the depths of the stars.
But instinct.
It was such a bitch.
She saw the badge at Caitlyn’s hip. The Sheriff’s badge.
Her hands turned to fists, shoulders tensing.
“I—I should go,” Caitlyn said quickly, and she hastily turned back around to the table, gathering all the maps and shoving them into a tube that she tucked under her arm. “Thank you, Ekko, again,” she added with a quick smile at the man.
“Yeah, no problem.” Ekko nodded at her, glancing at Caitlyn, then at Vi.
Caitlyn made to leave. Instinctively, Vi stepped aside as Caitlyn walked past—the woman pointedly not meeting her gaze—and then she disappeared around the bend as Vi stared after her.
Taking a step inside and glancing back, Vi worked her jaw, thinking.
“Vi?”
Vi snapped her gaze back to her friend. “What did the Sheriff want?”
Ekko must’ve heard the hesitation and caution in her voice, and he raised a hand. “Vi, she’s chill. Just wanted my help about some of the old tunnels in Zaun. We’ve had a team initiative the past few years to start mapping it out and tagging what’s safe to explore and what isn’t. Sometimes bad guys hide out in there, sometimes you got stupid cave divers and stupid clowns getting stuck or lost. She wasn’t here for anything bad, Vi.”
“Oh. Cool,” Vi said. She cleared her throat. “Uh, ready for dinner?”
It wasn’t that she thought…
Things were different. So, so different. But…old habits die hard.
And Vi wouldn’t look at the crumble of shame in her heart, how she’d seen the flash of hurt again in Caitlyn’s gaze. Blue, wounded, bleeding in a way that it shouldn’t.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Ekko glanced at her a few times as they went downstairs, but Vi didn’t meet his eye.
—-
“You think this is going to last?” Vi asked.
Vander paused in wiping down the counter, and the big man glanced at Vi standing next to him.
Vi found herself hanging out at the Last Drop or at the Firelights base during the day, since she didn’t know what else to do with herself; she always found something or other to do at one of both places, something that needed to be done, but today, everything seemed to be in order at both of her usual haunts.
So Vi had taken it upon herself to help Vander as the man leisurely went about his chores at the bar, wiping things down, checking inventory, whatever menial tasks needed to be done before the late night crowd came rushing in.
“What’s going to last?” Vander asked.
“This…this peace. The good shit going around here,” Vi said, scrubbing the counter with her own rag, and she tried not to sound so vindictive or bitter, but it seeped through anyway. “Vander—you’ve seen what Zaun’s like now. Pilties, helping out down here? Zaunites, heading up top? Barons, gone? Like—that doesn’t sound insane to you? How fragile this all feels?”
A long pause. Vi kept scrubbing down the counter.
Vander straightened up. “Alright. Say all you wanna say, Vi.”
“Vander—”
“Say everything you want to say,” he repeated, slower, with an air of command.
“This can’t be real,” Vi said, and she glanced at Vander—whose face was in perfect neutrality—before she returned to her task, an excuse to not see Vander’s expression because she already knew what the end would be. “Like, Vander—I feel like all it’ll take is another baron, or another Day of Ash, or some Zaunite to throw another bottle or a Piltie to spit on the wrong guy and we’ll be at each other’s throats again. You—you can’t honestly believe this—all this, it’s gonna last. I—it can’t be real, Vander. I just—I just don’t see how this is going to work. Us. Them. How is everybody working together like this? How is any of this real? Working? You telling me just because we got rid of the worst eggs in Zaun that we’re all fresh flowers and shit here?”
The diatribe went longer than she meant it to. She waited for Vander to say something that’d be a harsh sting—
“You’re right. It is fragile, Vi.”
Vi whipped her head around. “What?”
Vander’s expression was a softened neutral one, almost expectant, like he’d thought Vi would say this to him. “Yeah, it is fragile, Vi. The past few years? I think a lot of folks down here have thought what you thought too. It’d just take one little wrong for everything to come crashin’ down. And yet—here we are. All these years later.”
The man turned, leaning a hip against the counter, tossing his own rag over his shoulder as he regarded his eldest daughter.
“Vi,” he said, not unkindly. “I get you’ve woken up to a whole new world. But—the peace around here? The reason why one wrong little ‘fuck’ doesn’t send everything sideways is because of people like us. Me. Ekko. Pow. The Firelights. The families here in Zaun that don’t wanna go back to livin’ in fear. Everyone down here remembers what it was like under the barons. Ain’t nobody wanna go back to livin’ like that. Once the barons got taken down, we had a big meeting, most of us in Zaun. It was time for a fresh start. Everyone here is workin’ hard at it. And so’re the Pilties up top.”
“I—but why? Maybe—us, us Zaunites, we’d fight and work hard for a better tomorrow, but why the fuck would Pilties give two shits about us? You know they never did—”
“Not all of ‘em,” Vander cut her off. “There are some good people up there too, Vi. But fine, I get it. Here—you want to know how the Pilties are falling in line?”
Vi leaned in, brow furrowed. “How?”
Heaving a grand sigh, Vander said, “Started with you, Vi. You made friends with one of the most powerful people topside. Caitlyn.”
Now that put Vi at a loss for words. “What…what do you mean?”
“Domino effect, you could say.” Vander shrugged, half-chuckling. “The new Sheriff wanted to take down a baron, you helped her, made friends with her. And she’s got some powerful friends topside. She managed to pull a few to her side. Even the guy who does Hextech. Get them workin’ for her, then with you, then with us, then everyone down here. And then it kinda spiraled from there. People saw big folks like Caitlyn’s family working to do better and they fell in line. If you hadn’t played nice with the Sheriff, I dunno where we’d be now.”
“So this is…all because of her?”
“Not what I said,” Vander said, the faintest scowl to his face. “Don’t discredit us—or you—like that. It took a lot of work, from not just you, but me, Ekko, Babette—other leaders down here to work with Caitlyn and her folks topside to get this shit running well again. I’m just saying you got it started. You were the one who started pulling folks into talks with Caitlyn, her people. You don’t remember it, Vi, but you were doing a lot of work. Thought you’d nearly kill yourself, but you and Caitlyn—you’re both the most stubborn women I’ve ever met.” He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You were both working around the clock to get things better around here. First, the barons. Then the reparations. Don’t think for a whole year, either of you ever slept more than six hours a night.”
Vi swallowed, scrunching her rag in her hand, trying to process this news. She could see herself breaking her back for Zaun, for peace. She just—picturing Caitlyn, doing the same?
Vander continued. “Then from all that, eventually the Council fell in. Then everything else came after. Nobody wants to go back the way things were before—you know how, before all this, it always felt like things were on a tightwire, us and topside?”
“Yeah. Vander—half the time I thought they’d send a whole army of Enforcers down on us for breathing wrong.”
“Yeah, well, Council thought the same. Council was gettin’ concerned about how unruly the barons were getting. That they’d go rogue. It was in their best interests for the barons to go down, and to stay down.” Vander snorted. “Probably think of Zaun as just another one of their investments, but if it means we get to live in peace down here with money goin’ to things that matter, then I’ll take it. And, if it means our people also get to share in not just Hextech, but the money Hextech’s been making, then I’ll take it too. Better than our folks dying from chembarons or our people getting bagged by Enforcers.”
Vi worked her jaw, trying to think of what to say.
“And…you trust these Pilties, to keep their word? Vander, you remember what they were like back then. That asshole Marcus, the shitty Enforcers bagging kids for no reason—”
“Caitlyn isn’t Marcus, Vi. She’s never been.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
“It wasn’t at the beginning,” Vander said. “But she’s enough now. She’s more than proven that she’s enough. Yeah, she’s made mistakes. Who hasn’t? But she’s made an effort to do better, which is better than what Marcus has ever done.”
“But…okay, say I buy into why I trusted Caitlyn at the start. Why’d you trust her? Work with her? Or anybody else? What’s she got really goin’ on that made you want to work with her?”
“You know, Vi, when you work a bar for a long time, you start figurin’ out who’s who and who’s what the moment they walk in through a door,” Vander said, and Vi mentally prepared herself for another parental lecture. “I’ve met a lot of people in my lifetime. Tons of ‘em. And you know I know every flavor of Zaunite there is. And probably, every kind of Piltie there is, too. You start figuring out who’s a good egg, who’s a cracked one, who’s a rotten one. It’s the way they talk, the way they walk, what kinda drink they order when they come up to the counter. As a bartender, you get very good at how to read a customer—s’how the business works. And Caitlyn? When she walked in through that door with you, the first time?” The man’s expression turned wistful, nostalgic, and he chuckled, remembering that time from long ago. “You wanna know what she looked like to me?”
“What?”
“She looked like you, Vi,” Vander said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Like she had a big heart. And she’s kept that big heart of hers, since that very day. And you, too. Even if you don’t remember.”
Vi was quiet. She didn’t know what to say.
Sighing at her silence, no doubt interpreting it as some form of bitterness or anger again, Vander said, “I’m not tellin’ you to—not keep an eye out for shit stirrers, we get some now and then. But—the peace we have, Vi. There are people out there who won’t stop fighting for it—you inspired some, you know? Let them inspire you too. Don’t lose hope.”
“Yeah…Yeah, I—I haven’t. I’m not going to,” Vi said slowly. “It’s just…a lot to take in. You know? Like—I feel like I was always fighting for that peace we have now. And…do I still fight? What do I fight now?”
The real question she’d meant to ask all along.
“Ah,” Vander said, nodding. “You know, you still got to fight when you were with the Wardens—”
“No, no, nah, I—that’s a hard no, Vander,” Vi said hastily. The thought of joining the group that had once been the Enforcers sent a chill still down Vi’s spine, and an uncomfortable feeling in her gut. “I—no.”
“Alright, alright.” Vander raised his hands up in defense. “Just a thought. But you wanna learn to fight again, the good fight? Keep helpin’ out.” Then something seemed to trigger a lightbulb in Vander’s head. “Ah, you know what you could do, actually?”
“What?”
“Help out with the damn bar. I’m gettin’ older, Vi. You want a job to do? Man the bar with me at night. You used to do that sometimes, when you were off the clock.”
“How’s that going to help me…fight?”
“You remember how you’d come to me for intel, back then? Where do you think I got all my info, Vi?” Vander laughed, a big booming sound, deep and rumbly. “Look, you remember those nights you went out and just went and looked for secrets, info, get the lay of the land. Bar’s a good a place as any to get to know folks, get back with the community around here. Consider that part of your new fight. Get to relearn the place you live in, Vi. I promise you, you’ll learn a lot of new things—and not just from me.”
Vi considered it—it wasn’t like she really felt like she had anything else to do. And maybe it’d be good to get other people’s perspectives on how Zaun and Piltover were now, even re-establish old and new connections to get her grounded again. “Sure, old man. Sign me up, then.”
—-
Vi had tried making her own drinks as a kid, shoddily tossing random bottles together and taking a swig, only to spit it out and be horrified that adults drank gross shit like this.
Now, though, Vi stood behind the bar and watched Vander point out all the drinks, all the perfect combinations and perfect amounts and perfect glasses in which to make all manner of cocktail.
The big man leaned an arm on the counter, and looked at her expectantly. “Got all that, kiddo?”
“Uh, I—yeah?” Vi said, brow furrowed as she knelt down behind the counter, reading all the labels to all the bottles. “I—I kinda got it. I know the big five, can probably remember how to make those.”
“Aight, I’ll toss any of those your way then. You get stuck on anythin’, let me know, and I’ll whip it up.”
The first night bartending was a rough one—the rush of the crowd into the Last Drop was unlike anything Vi could remember, and she fought for her life keeping up with the flood of cogs tossed down and hands reaching for glasses and tankards. Back then the Last Drop had been more of a sit-and-drink kind of bar, but lately the youth of Zaun seemed eager to invigorate the night life down here—and the youth included Powder and Ekko, the two part of a group of DJs from Zaun that played their beats down here each night. Tonight was Powder’s turn to blare some beats on the soundstage, and the floor was full to bursting with bodies screaming and cheering, the thrill of the bass thrumming loud in their chests and feet.
“Vi!”
Hearing her name shouted above the cacophony, Vi turned to the side of the bar to see two faces she didn’t recognize, grinning at her. One was a man with half a face of black tattoos and a nearly shaved head, the other a brunette woman with a undercut.
“Hey, it’s us, Vi!” said the man, before he was elbowed by the woman. “Remember us?”
“Vi ain’t gonna remember us, dumbass,” said the woman.
“Sorry, did I know you guys?” Vi said, leaning in close so they could hear her. “And do you need a drink?”
“Yeah, it’s me! Zayne! From the force!” The man gave her a wide grin. “This here’s Mir!”
“We worked together in the Wardens,” Mir said, and she threw a few cogs on the counter. “Anyway, mind gettin’ us two Flaming Fists?”
“You got it!”
Vi prepared their drinks, eyeing them—both looked like they were Zaun raised-and-born. It was the only way to explain their familiarity with not just her but the bar; Vi saw other people drunkenly lurching towards Zayne and Mir, laughing and fiercely hugging the two before rejoining the rager on the dance floor.
Wardens. Welcome in the Last Drop. Off-duty, but still. Vi had to admit the sight felt…weird, in a way. She remembered a hostile air anytime an Enforcer so much as breathed near the Last Drop. Here, Vi watched as Mir animatedly gestured and spoke to a woman standing next to them, watched as Zayne headbanged to the beat with a group of people standing close.
The moment Vi slid the tankards over, Zayne immediately began shotgunning his, to which Mir just rolled her eyes and leaned in towards Vi.
“Don’t mind him—he’ll be fine, he just likes to party,” Mir said, to which Zayne slammed down his empty tankard and let out a whoop and holler—to which people nearby reciprocated with their own cheers and shouts.
“Missed ya, Vi! Damn, that Fist hit the spot!” Zayne crowed as he beat his chest with a fist. Then he turned to her, a little tearful. “I—fuck, I missed you, Vi—”
“Ah, yeah, me too, uh, big man—”
Mir intervened by pushing Zayne towards the dance floor. “Go on in there and dance your heart away, you big goof!” she shouted at him as she returned to the bar. Turning to Vi, she said, “Sorry, everyone on the force kinda misses you. Caitlyn told us what happened, and that you wanted a break, though, so, I get it! You’ve always been good at bartending!”
“Sorry I don’t, uh, remember you,” Vi said over the noise. “One sec—lemme get these guys’ orders—”
Vi served up a few more people while Mir remained at her spot at the counter, talking with folks nearby—Vi noticed the ease with which she spoke, the relaxed postures and stances of the people near her too.
“I was—good at bartending?” Vi returned to Mir, leaning in close again over the din.
“Yeah! Served drinks at all the parties we had at the station!” Mir took a gulp from her tankard. “Kinda see why you’d pick it up as a job now.”
“Parties? At the station? Are you fucking joking?”
“Not joking.” Mir grinned at her, whites of her teeth flashing.
“You’ve got to be fucking me. When the fuck did Enf—Wardens party?” Vi said, tongue in cheek, shaking her head. “Who allowed that?”
“Caitlyn did, but I mean, you were the one who started this big tradition of throwing ragers at the station!” Mir laughed, gesturing with her tankard. “Wish you could remember,” she added wistfully. With a sad smile, she said, “Ain’t really the same up there without you. I know you don’t remember, but, you were the one who inspired me to join. You were doing good work for everybody, topside, bottom. Made me wanna do the same.”
“I—oh. Really?” Vi stood there, an odd pang in her chest, a swelling there that made her ribcage feel too small and her heart beat too loud. Mir looked at her with a hopeful, but still sad, smile.
“Hell yeah, sister. But if you wanna keep bartending it up down here like an early retirement kinda thing, I’m game.”
“Hah, well—I’m figuring it out,” Vi chuckled, but her smile didn’t quite feel right. “Glad you like the drinks.”
“‘Course! Anyway, gonna let you know—you ain’t seen the last of me. Zayne needs a designated handler and I’m his bitch in that regard. Sometimes when he gets fucked up, he gets fucked up,” Mir said, and she finished off the last of her tankard, slamming it down on the counter with a satisfied sigh. “And the party’s here fuck! Catch ya, Vi!”
Mir dove into the crowd of bodies, no doubt meaning to join Zayne—who’d managed to get himself into the middle of the mob, jumping higher and cheering louder than anyone else as Powder threw her fist up in the air to the beat of the music.
Once the party ended and Vander put Vi and Powder to work cleaning the bar and dance floor, Vi went to bed exhausted, but feeling a lot more fulfilled than before. She’d managed to strike up conversations with other folks in the undercity who’d looked forward to meeting her again—seemed like word of her memory loss had gone around town, both topside and bottom. A few Pilties even came by, shook her hand and reintroduced themselves before buying a drink, but Vi noticed a reoccurring pattern between all the people she met.
Caitlyn was mentioned in some way.
Come visit topside! I still sell those cupcakes you and Caitlyn liked.
Wanna thank you again for saving my ass last year. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you and the Sheriff.
You still know how to make the Sapphire Siren? Ah, fuck, you don’t remember—I’ll ask Caitlyn if she remembers.
You serious? You quit? Fuck, you were half the reason I bought the yearly Wardens Calendar. Well, you, and the other half was Caitlyn.
Why aren’t you out there dancing, Vi? Caitlyn might not be here but I know you have some sick moves still in you.
‘Ey, lemme know if the Sheriff lets you take out them gauntlets again. Got some demolition I need doin’ and you’re the only bitch I trust.
It wasn’t that the bulk of the conversations revolved around her. Caitlyn just happened to slip into the conversation, a morsel, a scrap, a leaf caught on the wind that blew under the front door when Vi cracked it open. Caitlyn herself lingered in and on the minds of the people here—topside, bottom, everyone seemed to bring an offering to Vi that they didn’t know they had, the neon lighting flashing and beaming bits of blue on their hands, their fingers, their smiles and mouths. People knew Caitlyn. She was painted in their laughs, their gazes, their cogs tossed onto the counter with words of remembrance.
Vi curled up under the covers of her bed.
This all felt…too good to be true. And yet, Vi had seen it all with her own eyes, heard it all with her own ears.
Was Caitlyn really…?
Maybe she could find the truth elsewhere. Do as Vander said. Meet with everyone. Learn everything again.
—-
“Ekko?” Vi stood in the doorway of the man’s office in the Firelights tree, rapping her knuckles against the old wood.
At his desk, Ekko glanced behind him, shooting his friend a smile. “‘Sup, Vi? What do you need? How’s teaching?”
“Hah,” Vi said half-heartedly. “Bad. I’m a little too soft on these kids. Might be undoing all of Scar’s trainings on how to get kids to behave and sit still for a few minutes.”
“You always had too big a heart, Vi,” Ekko said, rolling his eyes as he swiveled in his chair. Leaning back with his hands behind his head, he added, “You always let me and Pow get away with way too much shit as kids.”
“‘Ey, look, and you two turned out alright, so, maybe me covering for your asses and letting you do whatever paid off.” Vi pulled up another chair next to Ekko, spinning it around so she rest her arms upon its back, straddling the seat as she met Ekko’s gaze. “But seriously, I came up here to ask you somethin’.”
“Alright, shoot.”
“I…what do you know of Caitlyn?”
Ekko stared at her carefully. “You…wanna talk about her?”
“I mean, yeah, I’m fucking asking.”
“You just always seemed like—you hated talking about her,” Ekko said with a small shrug. “S’why none of the family’s been poking you about it.”
Sighing and drawing a hand down her face, Vi just made a gesture with her hand. “Well, I’m ready to talk about her now. I don’t—I don’t wanna hear about us, or whatever. I just—I wanna know what you think of her. Who’s she to you, anyway?”
“Mm.” Ekko pulled his hands out from behind his head, settling them on his chest as he leaned back in his chair, his feet extended out in front of him as he stared up at the ceiling. “She’s a good person, Vi,” he said softly. “When you first brought her here, I thought you were crazy for bringing the Sheriff here, but…she said something to me then that I haven’t forgotten.”
“What?”
“That our cities needed peace,” Ekko murmured. “And that she was willing to die for it.”
A moment of silence. Vi had to process the words, and Ekko glanced at her, his gaze still careful.
“But…why?” Vi asked, quiet. “Why would she die for peace? For Zaun?”
“I—” Ekko stopped himself. “I think you’d be better off asking her. But seriously. I doubted her when she said that, but then we got into a firefight later. She dodged in front of me. Took a knife for me. Never gonna forget that.”
“She what?”
“Yeah. And I remember it too. She just got back up and kept fighting, disarmed the guy coming to shank me, and got him down.” Ekko stared up at the ceiling, his thumbs tapping at each other. “She’s serious, Vi. She really wants to do better for Zaun. For us. She fought like hell with us when we were taking down the chembarons. You were with her.” He glanced at her. “She’s willing to lay her life on the line for us. In my book? Means she’s in with the Firelights. If someone’s willing to take a knife for me, then I’m all in for them too.”
Vi pressed her tongue to the roof her mouth, unsure if she’d find the words lying between her teeth.
Ekko continued. “Asked her after, like, why’d she do that.” He chuckled. “She just told me our best bet for peace was if I made it out alive. That Zaun needed someone like me—someone willing to take a chance on her. Like you did. She said that too.”
“Huh,” was the only word Vi could find in her mouth.
The Sheriff. Taking a knife for a sumprat. Fighting side by side with the dregs of the undercity.
Marcus would’ve rather eaten glass than ever consider even breathing the same air as someone from the Lanes.
“I told her the same thing, after the battle,” Ekko said, sighing as he leaned forward, hands still clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees. “That we needed more guys like her topside. She said she was gonna work on that.”
“So, what, not all topsiders are bad?” Vi said, raising a brow.
“You know the answer to that, Vi. I know you see the folks helping around the tree.”
“I…yeah. Fine. I know.” Vi didn’t meet her friend’s eye.
“You know the community garden we got here? She’s the one who fronted the money for it. Even introduced me to the folks from the Academy who are into this shit. Also hooked me up with this guy named Ezreal.” Ekko snorted, amused. “The guy’s weird, but his family’s also kinda big money and the guy’s really into working with me on my inventions. But, knowing two Pilties topside who have a lot of connections means I’ve gotten to meet some brilliant people, Vi. Incredible inventors, architects, engineers—all who come here and help out. Even Professor Heimerdinger was impressed with the stuff we got going down here.”
“I have been seeing a lot of Pilties hanging around.”
“They’re good ones. Not bad. Some kind of have that know-it-all personality, but we humble ‘em pretty quick,” Ekko chuckled. “A lot of ‘em, when they really start getting their hands dirty, realize how much work we have down here. Then they get serious. It’s like their first time seeing Zaun—they’ve never known how bad it is.”
Vi huffed. “Give ‘em a good dose of reality, huh?”
“Yeah.” Ekko’s smile though faded slightly. “You know, you and Caitlyn would come and help in the garden sometimes. She came down here a lot to just do stuff with people here. But…she doesn’t do that anymore. Not lately, anyway.” He glanced at her. “Not blaming you, or anything. Just saying. Caitlyn came here a lot. She’s really determined to help us, Vi. I know you don’t believe it, but I mean it. She really wants to help.”
“Yeah. I know—I keep hearing that,” Vi sighed. “I don’t—I don’t not believe you. I know you’re telling the truth. But she’s really…all in? Caitlyn, I mean?”
She still sounded so unreal to Vi. A Piltie with a big heart. Dedicated. Determined to see the end through. Willing to fucking die for it. How could a woman like this be real? But Vi doubted all these tales about Caitlyn didn’t have their own morsels of truth; somewhere underneath all of this, there was a real, living, breathing woman and her name was Caitlyn Kiramman.
“Yeah. She committed,” Ekko said, shrugging. “She’s all in. When she plays the game, Vi, it’s all or nothing for her. And, besides,” he snorted. “I know you think me and Pow can get crazy ideas, but Caitlyn’s the one who really comes up with some insane operation plans. Sometimes she comes by to make sure her plan isn’t completely crazy. I keep her straight, in that case. We work. I help her, she helps me.”
“You work,” Vi said under her breath, resting her chin on her arms, staring at a spot past Ekko’s head. “What else can you tell me about her?”
It took Ekko a moment to think, but then he lightly chuckled.
“She’s got a mean streak,” Ekko said, corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk. “Don’t get on her bad side, Vi. Caitlyn can roast people like no tomorrow. Seriously, I watched you and her play Good Cop, Bad Cop one time and damn. She had the guy bawling his eyes out by the end. Heard a lot of new ways to scare someone that day.”
“Huh,” Vi said.
There. A real flaw. Something that felt tangible. Something that put a shape to Caitlyn and who she was underneath the role of Sheriff, of leader.
“Yeah. She’s—she’s cool. I’m not—I’m not gonna tell you that you should talk to her, since I get that you’re still getting used to things around here,” Ekko said, a small smile on his face. “But she’s got my back. And I know I have hers. She’s solid.”
“Mhm.” With a sigh, Vi stood up, grabbing the back of the chair and setting it back next to the desk. “Alright, thanks. I think I heard everything I wanna know.”
—--
“You…sure you wanna talk about her? Like, you’re really sure.” Powder sat on a stool by her workbench in her underground lab, her pencil pausing on her sketchbook as she glanced up at Vi.
Vi, next to her, leaned a hip against the table, crossing her arms. She stared out at the metal cavern, the numerous neon doodles and graffiti plastered all around them both. “Yeah, I—I wanna know what you think of her. Not—I don’t wanna hear about us. I just wanna know her.”
Shrugging, Powder returned to her sketch. “Alright, but, if you make that face I’m gonna stop talking about her.”
“What face?” Vi asked.
“The, Ugh, Gross, Fuck Off face,” Powder said under her breath, contorting her face in such a way it was like she’d eaten a very, very sour poro.
“I don’t—I don’t make that face!”
“Yeah, you do, and I’m not gonna lie, I get your head got busted up, Vi, but it made me feel really bad that you kinda thought shit about her,” Powder said. She continued sketching, pointedly not looking up at her sister. “Caitlyn’s my friend, and—I know things are complicated between you two but I really am not in the mood for you to try digging for dirt on her or something.”
“That’s not—that’s not what I’m trying to do!” Vi huffed, jerking a hand in exasperation. “Look, I just—I wanna know why you like her, then. What do you like about her?”
Powder narrowed her gaze, glancing at Vi from the corner of her eye, but then she sighed, setting her pencil down before fully turning on her stool.
“She believes in me,” Powder said simply. “Caitlyn, I mean. You know—when you were out doing your vigilante shit, you kinda made me feel like—overshadowed. You and Vander? You guys kept going on and on about doing good and helping Zaun or whatever.”
“I…oh. I—”
“I mean, like, I don’t mind fixing things up for people. That’s fine, it’s whatever. But you really were doing this big hero shtick and I’m just not into that,” Powder said with a quick shrug of her shoulders and a half-hearted smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vi asked, still trying to process the shame, the disbelief at herself that she’d miss Powder’s feelings from so long ago. “I—I didn’t know—”
“I mean, it was hard talking to you guys about it,” Powder said, sighing. “I think you both thought I was wasting my potential or whatever. And it was annoying how every time I tried to talk about it you were always like, but Pow, you can fix so much shit! You can fix Zaun too! And, Vi, I’m one guy. And—I wanted to do other things. I still do. Like music.”
“I—Pow, I—”
“It’s fine, don’t apologize, you already did. Well, you don’t remember. Anyway, we’re gonna fast forward through all this. I’m over it now. So’s Vander. We talked.” Powder waved a dismissive hand.
“Well, I’m not—”
“Okay, well, get over it faster, sis, because I’m gonna tell you what you wanna know about Caitlyn.” Powder leaned back against the table, idly glancing at her nails, completely ignoring Vi attempting to reconcile this new information that was years out of date now. “Anyway, getting back to Caitlyn, you got stuck in Stillwater, then you got busted out by Caitlyn two years later, and then you came back to us.”
“Were you…surprised, Caitlyn got me out?”
“I mean, yeah,” Powder said, rolling her eyes. “‘Course. Vander couldn’t believe it at first, but then he understood what you and Caitlyn were trying to do. Take down the rest of the barons. We had a family meeting to talk about stuff, all together. Caitlyn was there too, I remember. But it was—what happened after, that really stuck with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you and Vander got into talking shop, prepping gear, contacting folks for intel on the barons. Caitlyn though, she just…she came to me and saw I was drawing.” Quieter, Powder turned in her stool, brushing her fingers over her sketchbook. “She just asked me about what I was drawing. What I liked to draw. We just talked about my art, what I like to use, what I like to do, stuff like that. She wrote it down in this little notebook of hers.” Powder snorted, rolling her eyes. “Asked her if she thought I was a suspect or something and she said no. She just wanted to remember what I did because I was your sister, and she wanted to get to know me better. And then she showed me her notebook. Had tons of sketches of Zaun. Everywhere she went with you, she had some sketch of it. Pretty impressive. She was serious about learning Zaun.”
Powder’s smile was small, but there, wistful too. “I told her the best places to visit in Zaun. Figured she’d want some kind of good intel from me, my perspective, I’m not stupid. Told her the best places to perch, to run, to hide out in. I mean, I figured you’d probably already told her, but she wrote down all the places I told her to go to get good vantage points of factories, hideouts, whatever. You know, the places I like to go when I wanna draw, or be alone. And Caitlyn came back a few weeks later. Showed me her sketches. She went to all the places I told her to go.” Then Powder laughed. “Ah, yeah, wait, she got mad I told her about that pipe—you know that one pipe we used to run on, in the east part of town? And how it started breaking down?”
“Oh, Pow. You didn’t.”
“Yeah. Her fatass was the straw that broke the pipe’s back and she told me she got so fucked up hitting the ground,” Powder chortled, breaking out into a full on maniacal laugh. “Ah, had to do it to her. Just had to. Couldn’t resist. But, seriously, Vi.” Turning serious, Powder said, “Caitlyn doesn’t fuck around with art. Like, her whole mansion is covered in art. She even has some of my pieces in her place right now. And, she has tons of notebooks of all her own sketches and crap.” Then Powder half-snorted, half-laughed. “She probably doesn’t want you to know this, but I know she has like, at least ten sketchbooks filled with drawings of you.”
“I—wh—” This was information overload for Vi.
“Yeah, she was like, so psycho about you when you guys were dating,” Powder said casually, as if she hadn’t just dropped several bombs on her sister. “Her sketches are pretty good, too. You’d love them—if you could ever see them. Hah.”
“Oh,” Vi said, voice an octave higher.
“Anyway, she’s cool, when she’s not Justice’ing it up everywhere,” Powder said, rolling her eyes. “When she turns off Super Sheriff Mode, she’s fun to hang around. She’s kind of a loser. I mean, her sketchbooks, for one, but also, damn, Vi, when you brought her down here she’d never been to a rave before. Or a rager. Or like, gotten fucked up drunk. She did not know how to party at all. She was a shit dancer. But, don’t worry.” Powder did another wave of her hand. “You taught her really good.”
Vi’s brain felt as half-frazzled and exposed with open circuitry as the trinkets and gadgets littering Powder’s workshop.
“Anyway, I like her, because I have sister-in-law privilege—or, I mean,” Powder said, correcting herself after glancing at Vi. “Whatever. Ex sister-in-law. I don’t know. Privilege. Anyway, she doesn’t fine me when I tag the buildings up topside. And she throws wrenches—or money—into somebody’s asshole to make sure the Council can’t send someone to paint over my shit right away.”
“In-law?” Vi squeaked. What? No, everyone had told her—Caitlyn had said they’d just been partners—
“Ah, no, you weren’t married, I was just joking. You guys were actually friends with benefits.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“Hah!” Powder burst out laughing, reaching a hand out and slapping Vi’s knee. “Joking, sis. You were just girlfriends. Alright, anything else you want to know about Cait?”
“I think I have enough,” Vi said, lightheaded, pushing away from the desk, stumbling slightly and catching herself on the railing. “Uh, cool, thanks, Pow.”
“Anytime, sis.” Powder flashed a smile at her sister, all grins and white teeth—and she burst out laughing again as Vi made her way back up.
But just before Vi turned the corner, she paused on the stairs, and turned back. “Hey, Pow?” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“Wanted to say sorry. Seriously. I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was suffocating you.”
“You’re my big sis,” Powder snorted, waving a hand as she turned back to her sketchbook. “That’s kinda your job, fat hands.”
“Fat hands?”
“Oh, right, you don’t remember. Just a name Caitlyn and I made up for you.”
“Oh. Huh.” Vi thought on it, wondering why she felt a weird doubt about Caitlyn agreeing with the name. “See you, Pow.”
—-
“Here for info again, Vi?” Babette said with a smile. “I had the feeling you’d come by, sooner or later.”
“Hah,” Vi snorted, seated on the couch across from Babette. “Yeah, lookin’ for some info. You’ve always been the best, Babette.”
“Hah. You haven’t forgotten how to flatter a girl. Alright, what do you need, sweetheart?” Babette’s amused expression no doubt meant she already knew what Vi meant to ask, but she was willing to indulge in the nostalgia of the visit. The old yordle leaned back on the couch, the candlelight casting the wrinkles of her face in sharp shadow—she was older, definitely, but the woman also still carried her signature charm.
With a deep breath, elbows resting on her knees and hands clasped, Vi glanced up and said, “Caitlyn.”
“You need Caitlyn?” Babette’s brow shot straight up, and the yordle tapped her tiny tobacco pipe against the armrest.
“No! No,” Vi groaned, rolling her eyes. “Babette, you know what I mean. I gotta know. Is she the real deal? She’s got no—no agenda? Nothing? Who is she really? Gotta know what’s what with the Sheriff if I’m—if I’m gonna figure out where I am. Who I am.”
“Ah, yes, there you go.” Babette leaned back on her couch, lips pursed in thought. “I’ve heard you’ve been asking around.”
Vi snorted. “Of course you heard about it.”
“Darling, I know everything that happens in this city. And, well.” Babette did a little tap of her pipe at Vi. “You’re someone I always keep tabs on.”
“Don’t know if I should be flattered or concerned.”
Babette chuckled. “Both, sweetheart. But I actually thought you’d come here to ask me about Zaun, first. It’s hard to believe how much has changed in the past few years.”
“Yeah, a lot.”
“A lot of that change happened because of that Sheriff, you know. Girl’s gotta lot of money, lot of power up topside. One of the only ways change really works,” Babette snorted. “And she’s a tough son of a bitch. Never takes no for an answer. It’s how she’s good at fighting with the Council, or anyone else up there that makes all the laws.”
“I figure then she’d be pretty unpopular with the big folks topside.”
“Oh, she was—is unpopular with a lot of the old guard,” Babette said, waving her pipe. “Trust me, that first year? I seriously thought someone from either here or up there would order a hit on her. Never happened. Or, maybe, she cut them off before them could. She certainly angered a lot of the rich, dirty folks both here and topside—but she’s also a rich girl who can play dirty when it comes time to do so,” Babette chuckled. “She’s a smart girl, that Caitlyn.”
“How’d she keep herself safe?”
“The girl’s got the friends and the money topside,” Babette answered simply. “She’s got the Father of Hextech on her side. Even managed to get half the Council to back her initiatives—my honest opinion? The Medardas were what turned the tide. That Councilor Medarda’s not one to be trifled with. And—to get the undercity under her wing, too? The girl worked with you. Vander. Ekko. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”
Vi worked her jaw, hearing Vander’s words too. “Yeah…Yeah.”
Taking a small drag of her pipe, Babette continued, “But if you want my two cogs on the matter? She’s the real deal, Vi. Never had a conversation with her I didn’t like. You’re the one who introduced me to her, actually.”
“How’d that happen?” Vi asked, curious.
“I think it was one of your first cases together. You needed some info about a baron, I had some secrets my girls were willing to share. You brought the Sheriff along. She was a bit of a fish out of water then,” Babette said with a lighthearted huff. “But she grew on me. Sometimes she comes here by herself to ask me for info too. Always has this curious eye. You and her worked well together.”
“I keep hearing that,” Vi said under her breath.
“Don’t take that as a bad thing, Vi.”
“I…I get it’s not, but I just…I just don’t get her. Why is she doing all this? Why she trying to work so hard for Zaun? What does she get out of all this?” Vi said, clasping and unclasping her hands, trying to vocalize what had been in her head the past week, all these little slivers of Caitlyn slipping through the cracks in her armor and flooding her with an ocean of what she felt had once known all those parts of that woman named Caitlyn Kiramman.
At that, Babette shrugged. “I think she’s like you, Vi. She wants better for everyone. All I know is you brought her down here one day, and she never stopped coming back. You should try asking her yourself.”
“Hm.”
Vi had thought on it, repeatedly, since talking to her family, to everyone else in her circles. It felt like the only way for Vi to truly understand all the angles to Caitlyn Kiramman—all the ways all the people in Vi’s life had a piece of her in them, a shard of that shade of blue that reflected memories Vi couldn’t see, couldn’t remember, but she knew in her gut to be true.
Caitlyn Kiramman had become a piece of not just her life, but Zaun’s. She’d been sewn into the fabric and thread of the ties that bound Vi to this place, to the people she called home.
The last string. The last place for Vi to go. It had to be Caitlyn.
But the last time they’d spoken. Vi still felt the heavy weight of shame in her gut. Harsh words of disbelief. Pleas for understanding. A finality to a shut door, boots stomping away. A rigid belief in Vi’s bones that the truth couldn’t be real.
“And, another thing I like about her,” Babette said airily, waving her pipe, drawing Vi out of her thoughts. “The woman tips damn well too. Not just me, but the girls too. At this rate, she’ll be bankrolling all of Aza’s siblings to the Academy.”
“She comes here?” Vi asked, eyebrows raised.
Babetted humored her with a wry grin. “Sure does. Lately, though,” and Babette glanced away with a slight frown. “She’s been asking for house calls. Aza doesn’t mind the trip up topside but…” Babette did a small shrug, not meeting Vi’s eye. “You and her have been separated for a while.”
Maybe Vi’s thoughts had shown on her face. Babette wasn’t the best info broker in Zaun for no reason.
Rubbing her arm and staring at the ground, Vi could only say, “Yeah.”
Babette cleared her throat. “Caitlyn was down here just an hour ago. Shame you missed her.”
At that, Vi jerked her head up. “What? For what?”
“On a case, like she always is. The woman feels like she’s always working,” Babette answered. “Or, rather, she’s always hunting.”
“Hunting what?”
“Who,” Babette corrected. “Rumor has it we’ve got another mad scientist in our streets. Kind of a regular thing down here. Something in the water, I suppose.”
“Wh—where’d she go?”
Babette shrugged. “She didn’t tell me. I figured she’s going to find more of her other sources down here.”
“Oh, uh, cool. Thanks, Babette.” Vi made to stand, smiling at the yordle, but Babette’s small, sad smile in return meant she could read Vi’s face.
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
Hands in her pockets, Vi left the brothel, her head filled with thoughts. As her feet carried her through Zaun’s streets, Vi greeted and nodded at folks that passed her by and thought of what it must’ve been like to walk these very same roads with Caitlyn at her side. She thought of Caitlyn coming down here, just an hour earlier, thought of Caitlyn in that Zaunite outfit, thought of what it must be like for her to visit this place. She thought of how Caitlyn had left her mark on each and every spot of the undercity; she was everywhere. She was with everyone, in some way, in some form.
And all because of Vi. All these people—Vi had introduced Caitlyn to them. There must’ve been something about the Caitlyn Vi had met all that time ago that had meant Vi felt just enough trust to show Caitlyn around town.
But…it wasn’t hard to imagine what her past self might’ve seen in that Caitlyn from so long ago.
A woman determined to do good, no matter what. At Vi’s core, she knew this to be true—both about herself, and now about Caitlyn.
Vi paused outside the Last Drop, a hand on the handle. She glanced to her side, and wondered how many times Caitlyn must’ve come here, stood in this same spot.
Caitlyn was still a part of her too. Even if Vi couldn’t remember it. Even if Vi had refused it.
She had to meet Caitlyn. Somehow. If she could just…overcome her shame. The regret she now felt. Maybe…
Maybe Vi could find out how to fit Caitlyn into the broken, forgotten pieces of her life again.
—-
It happened a week later.
Over the nights, Vi had gotten to know Zayne and Mir a little more. The two were a funny pair.
Sober, Zayne was a tough nut to crack, a man with a stoic face and an intimidating build that would’ve made him an excellent bouncer or guard if he had any other kind of profession. Mir confessed to Vi that Zayne was sometimes Vi’s right hand man on missions, given the man’s bulky stature and sturdy build. Apparently their work relationship had been a tense one at times given their contrasting personalities; Vi was a forefront vanguard, Zayne was a tactical and methodical fighter, but over the years they’d worked out a begrudging respect for each other.
Which, Vi found hard to believe, since Vi had only ever seen the man getting slammed at the Last Drop.
Drunk Zayne was anything but his sober counterpart—the man let loose in the most wildest of ways, oftentimes jamming and dancing wildly to the DJ’s set with a fervor and ferocity that Vi honestly had to admire and respect. He let loose—laughing, boisterous, loud in a way that you could hear him above the rumble of the bass and beat.
His story was a sad one, though. A brother, lost to gang crime. Despair turning into fury, a suicide run prevented just in time by Vi and Caitlyn, who’d stopped him from running headfirst into a chembaron’s hideout. He’d joined up then, convinced that the two would help him bring the baron to justice—and they all did.
Mir was the level-headed of the two. It’d actually caught Vi off guard when Mir corrected her—she was actually born in Piltover to a Piltovan mother and Zaunite mother, but had spent most of her life living down in Zaun after her parents’ divorce. She’d initially served as a chembaron’s accountant—a menial job, a basic job, but she’d nonetheless been found and caught in the line of fire as the Wardens had taken down an entire base. It’d been Vi who’d found those conscripted into the line of work and gotten them off the hook, giving them a second chance at life, records wiped clean for a new start.
Mir had bought Vi a shot then. They’d clanked their shot glasses together, drank to a past Vi didn’t remember but now knew. Powder’s comment on Vi’s ‘heroism’ held true still, after all these years. Vi may have learned not to beat the hammer of justice on her family, but she still wielded it with both hands after all this time.
Other Wardens sometimes came with Zayne and Mir, greeting Vi with jovial smiles and ‘glad you’re ok’s. She wasn’t expecting every Warden to be on good terms with her, and she was humored when she found a few rookies come down one night to share a few drinks. A rookie told her Vi had apparently gotten on his ass for him missing training a few times, when Vi herself showed up late to Caitlyn’s drills multiple times, and another woman told her Vi had been brutal during martial training and she herself had almost gotten the cut from the team by Vi if Caitlyn hadn’t intervened. Then there were, of course, the multiple mentions of Caitlyn’s favoritism—Vi got away with a lot more than anyone else ever did.
“Kinda miffed us a bit because Cait would get on our ass about ‘collateral damage’ or whatever,” Zayne said one afternoon. “But she wouldn’t tag you as bad in the reports if you fucked something up.”
The Wardens ran patrols down in the streets of Zaun, but as Vi had heard from her new friends, Caitlyn had mandated unless there was an active emergency, there were to be no ammunition-based weaponry of any kind. It’d however meant Caitlyn only trusted the most seasoned of veterans and skilled officers to do patrols in the Lanes, and that meant Zayne and Mir found themselves down here more often than not. Zayne and Mir also usually sported simple batons at their hips, with radios pocketed in their utility belts to call for backup.
As Vi had begun to take over more responsibilities in the bar with Vander, like prepping and cleaning the bar in the afternoons, she noted that some of the Wardens patrols came by to have a quick drink—non-alcoholic—before hitting the streets again. It was nice to be able to talk to Mir and Zayne without the backdrop of a rager.
“Sounds like Cait really had a soft spot for me,” Vi said with a half-smile as she cleaned out a tankard. “I’m guessing I gave her a lot of trouble?”
Zayne snorted, taking a sip of his water. “Lots. But it also meant trouble for the baddies down here. Works out both ways, I guess.”
“The Sheriff’s the same way,” Mir said, tapping a finger on the counter. “She’s bigger trouble than Vi, sometimes.”
“I’ve been hearin’ a bit about that,” Vi said carefully. “Heard she made a lot of enemies down here. And up there, with all the reforms and shit.”
“Oh, plenty,” Mir said with an exasperated look. “Like, I’m also dead certain one of the guys who hates her guts just sent Caitlyn on a wild goose chase.”
“A haunted goose chase,” Zayne added, rolling his eyes. At Vi, he said, “Vi. You remember that old, fucked up asylum down in the Sumps?”
Vi put the tankard on her hands onto the counter. “Uh. Yeah? Why?”
Vi remembered that old place. As a kid, on triple-dog dare, Vi had stepped foot into it—and immediately had heard some loud clanking from some corner of that old building, probably some old pipes buckling under years of rusted disuse—and then immediately wrenched said foot back out and booked it all the way back home.
Back then, the kids had made up stupid stories about how insane ghosts still haunted the halls, but an older, adult Vi knew better. The place was just old, falling apart, and would probably crumble to dust in the next five years. Still, Vi understood Zayne’s and Mir’s hesitations. Zaunite superstition still meant some folks treated the place like a home for revenants, but in all of Vi’s years tracking stupid goons to the Sumps, she knew the truth of everything down there; everything there was just a bunch of old abandoned buildings, left to rot in the Sumps’ putrid air.
“I shouldn’t be tellin’ you this,” Zayne muttered, and he crossed his arms, mouth turning into a thin line. “Ah, never mind, Vi.”
“Oh, c’mon, Zayne. Vi might have some info for us too, the way Vander sometimes does,” Mir said, nudging him with an elbow. “Here, I’ll tell you, Vi, and you tell me what you might know. You know how Zaun loves their mad scientist types or whatever? Or Janna loves a good joke and keeps shitting them out. Anyway, we’ve been lookin’ for a new guy. Found some of his victims, guy’s out doing some crazy fucked up version of medical malpractice or whatever, anyway, we’re lookin’ for him.”
Vi made a face, baffled. “Okay. And? What, Caitlyn thinks this guy’s in the fucked up old asylum?”
Zayne snorted, the big man grasping his glass of water with a tightened fist. “Yeah. She’s headin’ over there right now, I bet.”
“The fuck does she think she’s gonna find there? I thought the whole place probably collapsed or something by now. The building’s old as hell. It was falling apart when I was there as a kid.”
“Fuck, you went inside as a kid?” Zayne asked, mouth half-open in a mix of surprise and awe. “You’re real crazy, Vi.”
“It was a stupid dare—look, seriously, what does she think she’s gonna find there?”
Zayne shut his mouth and grumbled, “Dunno, told the Chief the same thing. Place is falling apart, old. Madmen are mad but there’s no way any of them are stupid enough to take up base in a building ‘bout to collapse in.”
“We told her not to go there,” Mir sighed, poking at her own glass of water. “Especially without backup.”
“What?” The word shot out of Vi before she could think, and she stared at Zayne and Mir with an incredulous look. “What the fuck do you mean, without backup?”
“The fuck you think, Vi?” Zayne shot back. “Ain’t none of us Zaunites gonna touch that place with a thousand foot pole. You don’t fuck with the old in Zaun. S’why Mir and me think the guy who tipped us on that place is just lookin’ to cause some trouble, but you know how the Chief is. She loves going after any kind of clue.”
Vi, breathing hard, said, “Caitlyn went in, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she did,” Mir said.
“So.” Vi planted both hands on the counter, and leaned in. “You’re telling me, right now, Caitlyn’s down there, alone?”
“Yea—” Mir started.
Vi ripped a gas mask from under the counter, tore out of the bar, slung on her coat, and ran through the streets.