Tick Tick Boom
The unrelenting glorious Noxian sun beat down on the single-line convoy as they thundered through the desert.
Wheels and treads ripped up dusty clouds of sand, sending debris flying into the atmosphere as the rank continued to draw closer and closer to its destination. Two Challenger tanks took the lead at the front, the metal behemoths groaning and straining with exertion as they set the pace for the single Foxhound protected patrol vehicle carrying the rest of the troops.
The first thing Vi had noticed about the interior of the carrier when loading up was the smell. For lack of a better term, it reeked. The scent of sweat and other unnamed bodily fluids clung desperately to the rigid metal walls, the scent of someone or multiple someones who had little to no self-respect or awareness of their personal hygiene.
As disrespectful as it was to think it, Vi wasn’t surprised in the slightest. The Infantry Corps were the ones really fighting the war; not just observing from the clouds, or pushing pens across mission sign-offs, they were the ones on the front lines laying down their lives. No shit, their vehicles wouldn’t be up to Ritz standard. She wondered how many fully-loaded squads this exact Foxhound had taken to excursions only to come back empty.
Vi looked across from her at her brother, who seemed more at home here than he’d ever appeared anywhere else. Claggor was squeezed in between Marcus and a tanker who had simply introduced himself as “Guv”, chatting away to the infantry soldier whilst everyone else watched in awkward silence. His boulder-like shoulders jostled Marcus with each hearty chuckle he made.
“Any of you lot spent much time ‘round tanks before?” Guv suddenly asked the rest of the cabin, which took them by surprise. He had a strange accent, nothing like Vi had ever heard before, and she was struggling to place where he could be from.
Most shook their heads timidly. All except Jayce, sat in the seat to the left of Vi, who cleared his throat and leant forward. “Only during trade school, sir,” he responded with an air of confidence.
“Don’t call me ‘sir’, I work for a living,” Guv shot back, laughing manically. His lips curled back to reveal a missing front tooth.
No-one else joined in on the humour.
After another bout of uncomfortable quiet, Guv frowned and slunk back in his seat, grunting to himself about a “tough crowd” before continuing his conversation with Claggor.
For the whole ride, Caitlyn’s right elbow had been jamming into Vi’s ribcage as she worked to clean her rifle furiously. From the moment they’d stepped in, Cait had unpacked her cleaning kit and got to work on her sniper, hands working as elegant and nimble as ever to scrub away at any imperfections or blemishes.
At first, it had been bearable; one could have even considered it sensible based on the environment they’d be operating in and the nature of their mission. But as the fumes of polish began to fill the already-cramped space, and as she continued to ram into Vi harder and more obnoxiously, the other officer felt the need to say something.
“Captain, you rub that thing anymore, and you’ll burn a hole straight through the metal,” Vi retorted half-jokingly.
Caitlyn didn’t look up as she scooped up another dollop of polish on her cloth and began working it into the barrel. “A dirty gun is a useless gun,” she replied, the smallest edge of bite to her tone.
Vi shuffled in her seat and turned to face Cait better, dropping her voice and hunching over to give them a bit of privacy. “Are you okay?”
For a second, Caitlyn hesitated, the movement against her rifle ceasing before she finally picked up again. She still wasn’t looking up. “I’m fine, Vanderson,” she muttered. There was a flicker of muscle in her jaw as it twitched.
Vi licked her bottom lips. “You’re nervous.”
“No I’m not,” Cait hissed.
“Yes you are. Your mouth is doing that thing. It’s okay, we’re not-“
“Of course I’m bloody nervous, Vi!” Cait whisper-shouted to her. She finally met Vi’s eyes, the stormy irises cloudy with concern, before exhaling sharply through her nose and setting her cleaning kit down. “This is an important mission. You know that as well as I do. If anything goes wrong, it’s on me.”
Vi took a deep breath before prying the cleaning kit out of Caitlyn’s hands, settling it down under the seats by their feet before looking back up at her. “You’re doing fine, okay? Take it from me. We’ll be okay. It’s not rocket science.”
There was the smallest uptick of a smile on Caitlyn’s lips. “No, it’s just blowing up a train carrying one of the deadliest chemicals in the history of warfare on it.”
“Exactly,” Vi replied sarcastically. “Piece of cake, Cupcake.”
There was a shuddering groan as the convoy slowed to a halt. The metal cabin shook and tremored before finally stilling. Guv leant forward in his seat, peering out of the thin slit into the driver’s cabin. He pressed a gloved finger to his ear and began to speak over his intercom. “War Machine, Gravy Train, we here yet?”
War Machine? Gravy Train?
Whatever the tankers spent their free time smoking, Vi wanted some.
“Aye, boss,” a tinny, grainy voice sounded over the earpiece. Yet another accent none of the officers recognised.
“Brill.” Guv raised a hand into the air, swinging his index finger around in a circle before jabbing all fingers in the direction of the door. It was the first time he’d made any move or gesture that was somewhat regulation.
With a grunt of effort, Vi grabbed her rifle from between her legs and followed Jayce and Marcus out of the cab. Her eyes squinted and adjusted to the powerful rays of light overhead, raising a hand to shield them from the relentless beams.
The blazing Noxian heat hit them all like a truck as soon as they’d fully exited. Vi felt the drops of saliva in her mouth dry up instantaneously. As her eyes finally adapted, she took the opportunity to soak in and analyse their surroundings.
The two Challenger tanks – War Machine and Gravy Train – still sat at the front of the convoy, although their crew remained inside, presumably to gear up for the next phase of the mission. Even from the distance, Vi could hear faint whooping and hollering ebbing from the thick metal walls of the vehicles.
They’d arrived at the remnants of a small deserted village, most of the buildings destroyed and derelict bar two still-standing shacks right on the edge of the town. The rest had been reduced to crumbly rubble, tan-coloured bricks and jagged wooden beams sticking out of piles of debris. Dust clouds wafted between the structures, spinning up sheets of tarp and loose scrap in its wake. A hundred feet from the most distant building, a single set of train tracks snaked across the barren sand – just as the brief had detailed.
Guv unloaded a large green supply box from the back of the Foxhound, effortlessly slinging the crate over one shoulder before dropping it at the feet of the officers circling him. He whistled the tune of a familiar hymn as he went – Blood on the Risers.
Jayce cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “You airborne?”
“Not officially,” Guv responded, sneaking Jayce a cheeky wink before cracking open the case. “You think we’re a funny bunch, just wait ‘til you meet the Paras.”
Their engineering officer shot a concerned glance to Claggor, who just nodded in agreement with the tanker.
Vi peered down at the contents of the container. It contained all of the tools they’d need for their assignment: stacked-up sticks of dark red dynamite, two loops of grey fuseline, a single wooden detonator box.
“Fucking ‘ell, you lot blowing the train up or playing cowboys?” Guv exclaimed in disbelief as he caught glimpse of their supplies. He was partly right; their gear looked considerably outdated compared to the rest of their kit.
Before anyone could think of a smart comeback, Caitlyn swooped in, already checking her rifle again for the millionth damn time that day. “Alright, everyone gear up,” she said coolly and commandingly to her crew. She pointed a delicate finger to the roof of one of the lingering buildings. “I’m going to perch there. Claggor, re-convene with the tank crews, check they know what they’re firing at. Guv-“ Cait hesitated, as though the nickname left a sour taste in her mouth “-listen to Vanderson C., he knows the brief inside out. The rest of you – you’ve all got your tasks.”
Her officers muttered and nodded in agreement and Jayce and Vi swooped in to pick up their explosives. Guv stepped back, throwing his hands up in defeat mockingly, before his expression switched and he turned to talk to Claggor.
Caitlyn took one last look at her squad, nodding reassuringly to Vi, then peeled away and headed towards her chosen vantage point.
Now all they could do was wait.
***
The crew heard the train before they saw it.
It didn’t come as a surprise; with barely any shelter for miles around, sound travelled significantly faster and further, and the distant chug of the vehicle soon grew into a monstrous scream as it charged closer and closer to the village.
Perspiration pooled in Vi’s palms as she clutched the charges in one hand, a simple pocket watch in the other. Its metal surface roasted under the boiling sun and the officer had to keep rotating it in her grip to avoid burning her fingertips.
But that was the least of her worries.
Her eyes darted down to the ticking hand, then up again at the train tracks, then down again. Everything about their timing had to be perfect. Flawless.
There was no more room for mistakes.
Vi and Jayce had positioned themselves in a makeshift dugout, the tops of their heads barely visible as they poked up to peer at the tracks. The metal rails vibrated and shook the ground around them. Marcus was slunk back into the corner, his hands trembling around the handle of his detonator box.
Jayce readjusted his hand on his sticks of dynamite and went to get up, but Vi’s firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.
“Not yet,” she said sharply. “Wait for the green light.”
As the miniscule dot on the horizon trembling over the tracks enlarged with each passing second, Vi tightened her grip on the pocket watch, awaiting Caitlyn’s command.
“Radio silence in 3…”
Her captain’s voice cut clean and steady across the radio.
“2…”
Vi ground her molars against each other again.
“1.”
Without hesitation, Jayce and Vi flung themselves from their foxhole, heavy boots flinging puffs of sand into the air as they sprinted across the desert.
The pair hadn’t even got halfway to the tracks before the enemy resistance began firing down on them. Two magazine-fed turrets sprung from the body of the train, homing in on its hostiles immediately, and began to lay down fire.
Bullets whizzed through the air, embedding themselves precariously close to their feet. Both Jayce and Vi broke off from each other, with Vi running to the right of the tracks to lay down the charges to stop the train.
“Soften them up, Vanderson!” Cait shouted down the radio, her voice distant and echoey.
“Yes, Captain!” Claggor barked back, his voice trailing off as he relayed commands to the tank crews.
A deafening boom surged through the humid air. The tank crew’s first round embedded itself just to the right of the nearest turret, sending metal shrapnel through the air, sparks flying from the train’s exposed wiring.
The second round hit the nearest turret square on and it shattered in a small explosion.
They were safe. For now.
Vi got to the train tracks and nearly stumbled over them, hands slick with sweat as she placed the two sticks of dynamite down. She looped the fuses together before joining it to the main fuseline attached to her stable belt, picking the line up with her fingers before running backwards to thread it back to Marcus.
She took a precious second to shoot a glance at Jayce, who was doing the same, beads of perspiration furiously rippling down his forehead.
The second turret was now zoning in on them, bullets ripping past over their heads as they frantically made their way back to the foxhole.
Both Jayce and Vi’s eyes were wide when they finally dove back into their dugout, chests heaving as they handed both of their fuselines over to Marcus. He took Vi’s first, snaking it up to the detonator, and Vi fell back as soon as it left her hands. She swallowed hard raggedy breaths as spikes of adrenaline continued to course electrically through her nerves.
Marcus tied up Jayce’s line, inhaled sharply, and pressed down on the detonator.
Click.
Another explosion rippled through the air. A wave of heat blasted from the train tracks as lumps of metal went flying, followed by the harsh screech of the Noxian train desperately trying to halt itself. Sparks flew from its brake discs against the tremendous force.
After a painstakingly long moment of suspense, the freight train groaned to a stop, and Vi whipped around to watch Marcus make his next move.
He pressed down on the detonator again.
Click.
No response.
Click.
Click.
Clickclickclickclick.
His eyes widened in horror as he frantically shoved the handle down to no avail. Time seemed to slow and churn into thick jelly around them.
Shouts and cries had begun to emit from the stopped train. Noxian forces clambered out of the compartments, their weapons raised, firing blindly at the dugout and the two tanks.
Vi’s hands flung to her pockets desperately, fishing around in the vast spaces before finally closing around a small metal cuboid.
Her lighter.
For once, smoking had paid off.
She turned to Jayce, scrambled something along the lines of “cover me”, prayed to whoever was up there and sprinted out of the foxhole again.
***
Through her sniper rifle’s scope, Caitlyn watched in alarm as a tuft of red hair dove out of the dugout and ran furiously over to the train tracks.
Bullets, both enemy and friendly, formed a storm over their heads as Vi beelined for the second charge. She was white-knuckling a glinting object in her fist.
There was no time to think about the dumb fucking move Vi had pulled out of her playbook.
Or what would happen if she failed.
Caitlyn didn’t think at all.
She looked down her scope again, cocked the rifle hammer back, and lined up her first target.
Crack.
The Noxian soldier’s body crumpled to the floor.
The second target came into her crosshairs.
Crack.
Another one bites the dust.
The captain continued to pick off the emerging soldiers, her heart in her throat as she tried desperately to think of anything but her pilot running straight into the jaws of death reincarnate.
***
Plumes of dust expelled into the air as Vi slid on her knees to where the explosives sat stuck against the train tracks. She flicked her lighter open, held it up to the lone fuse, and flicked the wheel.
A few lone sparks spat up pathetically from the mouth.
Cursing under her breath, Vi struck the lighter again, and had to contain a whoop of joy when a low flame sprung from its housing. With shaky hands, she held the light up to the fuseline and watched as it hissed and crept up to the dynamite.
She stupidly in disbelief for a few more seconds before realising if she didn’t move she’d get her face blown off.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered to herself, before spinning on her heels and making another break for her dugout.
The blast knocked her clean on her front before she could safely get to cover.
For a moment, she stayed there, face-down in the sweltering sand as a steady ringing broke out across her eardrums. Voices called to her down the radio, drowned out by the incessant drilling in her ears.
“Vanderson! Do you copy?”
Vi grunted a response.
“Vanderson!”
Suddenly it wasn’t just any voice.
It was her captain’s voice.
Groaning with exertion, Vi rolled herself onto her back, propping her knees up as she pressed a finger to her ear. “Yeah, I copy, Cap,” she replied breathlessly.
Around her, Noxian soldiers and officers alike were shouting orders to retreat, scrabbling desperately back to the train compartments. One’s gaze caught onto Vi’s, but he did nothing. He was young, judging by the baby face. He just stared in terror before scrabbling back with the rest of his men.
In the midst of the chaos, Vi smiled to herself.
The heat had never felt better.
***
Clouds of steam wafted from the showerhead and fogged up the mirror in front of her.
Cait took a swipe at the condensation and gripped the edges of the reflective surface, staring deeply into the mirror.
Cold cerulean met her back.
She’d spent way longer than usual in the shower, most definitely using up all the hot water, but that mattered little to her. No matter what she did or how hard she scrubbed, nothing could wash her sins of the day away.
They’d failed. She’d failed.
And Vi nearly got herself bloody killed again because of it.
Trembling fingers ran through her wet raven hair, the slick coolness grounding her to reality. Her mind raced with doubts of herself as a leader when there was a knock on the door.
“Cait?” Concern bled into the tone.
“Coming, Violet,” Caitlyn replied as cheery as possible, plastering a fake smile across her lips before stepping out of the bathroom.
Vi was stood by the doorway, two bowls of food in her hands. She half-smiled as she handed one over to Caitlyn. “Made that chicken you liked again.”
“Thank you.” Cait grinned back warmly, taking a moment to soak in the gorgeous aroma of Vi’s cooking before dropping down onto the sofa.
They were back in Vi’s quarters again, regularly swapping between their two apartments whenever possible. Neither of them slept alone much anymore; even when they weren’t working together, or training, it wasn’t unusual now for Cait to come home to find Vi cooking for her or for Vi to step in the door and find Cait hanging up their washing.
As Cait took a mouthful of her food, a gnawing pit of anxiety grew in her stomach at the thought of one of the higher-ups finding out about their relationship.
The army would have no problem giving her a medal for killing a woman.
They also wouldn’t hesitate to dismiss her for loving one.
Vi’s voice cut through her relentless mind running. “Did you recognise the accents of the tankers today?” she asked between mouthfuls of food.
Caitlyn hummed in response. “Lower Piltover, I think.”
“All of them?” Vi swallowed.
“Sounded like it.” Cait absentmindedly twirled a string of pasta around her fork. “I guess Heimerdinger set up those land regiments after all.”
“Huh?”
The other officer shook her head. “It’s something Heimerdinger told me when he was trying to get us to communicate better. During the Great War, they set up land regiments to get more people to fight for each other. They’d recruit from local towns so soldiers went into battle with people they knew, not just strangers.” She waved her cutlery around as she spoke. “He wanted us to be fighting for each other, not with each other.”
Vi set her fork down. She met Cait’s gaze.
Ocean on storm.
“Cait, I don’t think I’m fighting for anyone else but you.”
The captain licked her lips before reaching out and taking Vi’s warm hand. “Me neither.”
A comfortable silence settled between the two as they continued to eat, stealing glances and smiles at each other before Caitlyn suddenly hummed in realisation.
“Speak of the devil, he’s doing an address tonight.”
“Oh, come on,” Vi groaned in protest. “We spend half our time listening to him waffle. Do we really have to watch that now?”
“Believe me, I’d rather watch paint dry,” Cait muttered in agreement, but picking up Vi’s TV remote nonetheless. She flicked over to Piltover News. “Word is he’s going to talk about what happened today, though.”
“Huh.” Vi leant in towards the television, her interest suddenly piqued.
Heimerdinger’s small body appeared in frame, the flag of Piltover and the Army of Piltover hung proudly behind him. He was in his war room, as standard with all his public addresses, a room both Caitlyn and Vi had only seen through screens and never in real life. He held a sheet of paper delicately between his fingers.
The commander cleared his throat and took one last look at his notes before staring into the camera with icy blank eyes. “Today, an army strike team authorised by myself successfully dismantled one of Noxus’s most prominent and important supply lines on foreign soil.”
“’Dismantled’ is one way to put it,” Vi muttered under her breath as she set her empty bowl down. Cait nudged her playfully with her foot.
Heimerdinger took a dramatic pause before continuing. “This mission has proven that Piltover has no qualms with infiltrating enemy territory to achieve their goals; and that goal is the penultimate protection and freedom of Zaun after the state of Noxus declared war on them unprovoked.”
Another pause. “Noxus, we extend an offer of peace to you in exchange for your cooperation in withdrawing troops from Zaun and complete surrender to Piltover. If you choose to ignore this proposal, you will face a coalition of Zaunite and Piltovian power Hell-bent on ensuring the sun never sets on Noxus ever again.”
Heimerdinger took another break before closing his statement. “You have twenty-four hours to respond to our demands, Commander Ambessa Medarda, before Piltover refuses to show mercy no more and you will be at the forefront of an unforgiving firefight. The history books will remember you not as a fearless leader with the best interests of her country at heart, but as a relentless dictatorial tyrant. We will fight you on the streets of Zaun. We will fight you in the airs of Piltover. We will fight you in the deserts of Noxus. And we will continue fighting until you give in or until Noxus is no more. You have my word on that.”
With one last steely glance into the camera, the video cut to display an unmoving image of the flag of Piltover and Zaun united as one.
Caitlyn closed her mouth. She hadn’t even realised it was open for the entirety of the speech. “Well, shit,” she managed to say.
Vi chuckled dryly. “Shit, indeed. He’s gone and done it.”
Heimerdinger was taking the war to them.