Doomsday
Crunch, crunch, crunch, goes the war machine.
Thousands of pairs of perfectly-polished boots clacked across the parade square.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Arms swung up in unison, precisely timed, a sea of movement with each soldier in step with the next.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
A single set of piercing eyes watched over the squadron, sets of hands darting up in a salute as they passed the commander’s plinth. A huge screen stood behind Heimerdinger, displaying a revolving video of the flag of Piltover waving proudly in the wind.
A single command to halt boomed across the square. Every set of boots stalled and a deafening silence rippled across the parade ground. Soldiers and officers alike stood proudly, unflinching, awaiting the next call to turn.
The command came. In a fluid motion, each troop rotated to face Heimerdinger, eyes straight forward, before their arms snapped to their side and they stood at ease.
Piltover was a sucker for traditions. And the army’s tradition of parading before a final war effort is something that would have to be pried from Heimerdinger’s cold, dead hands.
An eerie silence crept across the square. It was a stark contrast to the previous station-wide parade, the promotions ceremony, where bored soldiers and officers alike couldn’t help but jiggle their legs or wave their hands about.
No-one dared to make a sound. If a pin were to drop its impact with the concrete would ricochet between every single rank.
Heimerdinger’s eyes flickered meticulously between every row of beret-lined heads, as if trying to make eye contact with each enlistee in the parade. The commander puffed his chest out high and proud, inhaling a deep breath before speaking with nothing more than sheer confidence seeping into his words.
“I trust you have all seen my most recent national address,” he began coolly. He leant into the microphone before him further and his voice rippled through the stacks of speakers lining the plinth. “We have told Noxus and its people our demands, and our promises if they choose to meet them. Today, Commander Medarda will respond to our requests.”
Heimerdinger’s hands wrapped around each side of the wooden plinth. His gaze remained unfaltered; he wasn’t even reading his speech from a cue card. “I have called you all here to watch the response as one, not to strike terror or fearmonger, but to end this war just as we started: united under one banner. No matter the outcome of today, we will leave this parade square and subsequently this barbaric war the same way we came in.”
The commander paused. More deafening silence.
“Piltover and Zaun have shown their resilience at the merciless hands of Noxus and her forces, and we will continue to do so until the opposition yield. Our armies, our people, and our relations have never been stronger, a concept a leader as tyrannical and autocratic as Commander Ambessa Medarda will never understand. The spirit of the hard-working Piltovian and Zaunite remains undefeated. We will remain undefeated.”
On his haunting closing comment, Heimerdinger turned his back on his people briefly to switch on the great screen. It flicked into life, the looping video of the Piltovian flag replaced by the last face anyone on the square would want to see that day.
Commander Ambessa Medarda appeared before them, cold steely eyes boring straight into the camera and through the screen. Her fingers were interlaced with each other, hands balled into a single fist resting on a metal table before her. The maroon red fabric of her Noxian army dress uniform bled through the pixels. Various medals across her chest glinted in the dim lighting of whichever room she was filming from.
Behind her, the background had been digitally altered and blurred to conceal anything that could give away her location. As she made miniscule movements, the background adjusted slightly, the pixels choppy and static around her great head and shoulders.
It wasn’t a pre-recording.
She was talking to them – and the rest of Runeterra – via a live feed.
Medarda’s harsh, icy tone cut through the speakers. “Commander Heimerdinger, Piltover, Zaun, yesterday you insisted on Noxus’s surrender in exchange for peace and forgiveness. I am here to tell you that my country will not be complying with your request in any way, shape, or form.”
“You promise a final firefight, a valiant push to end this conflict, but with what resources? Your army is stretched thin; Noxian troops are outnumbering, outgunning, and outskilling every one of your soldiers on every front. We have complete air, land, cyber, and sea superiority over you. You are fully aware of where you’re sending your people and the penultimate outcome, yet you keep shepherding your lambs to the slaughter, nameless bodies churned into the meat grinder.”
“As for the cease of our Zaun occupation, the land has been rightfully Noxus’s for centuries. For a man who speaks so much of history books, you really ought to pick one up.” Medarda smiled sickly before continuing. “It was promised to our forefathers, whose forefathers had it promised to them, stemming all the way back up to when our initial nations were founded. We have been nothing but hospitable to the people of Zaun, allowing them to live in peace and harmony on stolen land for years without repercussions. But that ends soon.”
Ambessa’s demeanour shifted suddenly. She leant in, the creases around her eyes softening ever so slightly, running her tongue along her front teeth. “To the people of Zaun who are unsure which side is really fighting for you, let you hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say.”
The camera cut to black briefly before focusing in on a second face.
Same background, different speaker. Dirty blond hair. Ratty pointed features. Sunken hollow cheekbones.
Nauseatingly bright purple irises.
Some soldiers couldn’t help but audibly gasp, their expressions of shock ebbing up from the parade.
Dane Deckard had appeared on their screen.
“My fellow Zaunites,” the druglord began proudly, each word accentuated like he’d rehearsed this a million times before, “our relationship with Piltover has been nothing short of dictatorial. Ever since the cease of the Great War, we have lived under their boot, not even being allowed to sneeze without a Piltovian having to give us permission first. It’s disrupted our trade relations, our alliances with countries across Runeterra, a relentless barrage of restrictions and rules with no other end-goal than to break the true Zaunite spirit.”
“Throughout our history, and the history of our mothers and fathers, the Piltovians have always been the aggressors. They patrol our streets and send our people to Stillwater over charges that would be dropped instantly in a Piltover courthouse. They flooded our streets with the Grey, the infamous toxic gas so many elderly Zaunites still live with repercussions of until this very day. Piltover are not our friend or ally; they’re our enemy. They always have and always will be.”
Deckard licked his lips methodically. His jaw tightened. “Noxus will give us the freedom to make our own decisions about who we trade with. Who we let into our country. Who we want patrolling our streets. Our alliance with the Noxians will create a stronger, brighter future for Zaun. But for now, my Zaunites, you must answer the call. We need your help to destroy Piltover once and for all. For Zaun’s future, join the fight against the Piltovians today.”
The camera panned into Deckard’s mock expression of concern one more time, before cutting out and switching back to Commander Medarda.
“Commander Heimerdinger,” she spat coldly, “let it be known I once respected you as both a councillor and a fellow military man. But, you have forced my hand in this play.”
She broke out into a menacing smirk, her eyes lit up with a malicious blaze.
“And in terms of bringing the fight to us, I’m afraid you’re too late.”
The infamous screech of a fighter jet’s engine overhead ripped across the parade square.
Milliseconds later, a barrage of targeted missiles and bullets rained down onto the crowd and buildings below.
***
She didn’t hear the explosions going off.
The ground beneath Vi’s feet shook and grumbled, like a beast awaking from its slumber. Flashes of brilliant white light broke out around her, illuminating the square, and a steady incessant ringing broke out in her eardrums. No other noise penetrated.
Floods of worried faces swarmed around her, distorted with terror. Pushing, shoving, scrabbling to get away. Thick clouds of smoke began billowing across the square, tendrils licking at the remaining soldiers.
Vi’s boots stayed glued to the parade square, no matter how much her animalistic survival instinct willed them to get moving.
She just stood frozen.
Eventually, the ringing ceased, and another noise filled her senses.
The air was full of screams.
Cries and wails of shock and despair, paired with the guttural shouts of agony and death, like wounded animals.
As if Vi’s conscience had been ascending and suddenly dropped, the pilot sprung to life, becoming aware of the chaos around her.
Only one name reigned in her mind above all.
Caitlyn.
She needed to find Caitlyn.
Breaking out of her trance, Vi pushed her way through the gaggle of soldiers and officers alike, desperately scanning the sea of people for her captain.
That’s when she saw the first strike zone.
The concrete had been ripped up entirely, great shards of rock scattered haphazardly around a crude circle imprint where a part of the parade square once was. Just like those gravelly images of planet surfaces. A grotesque metallic scent hung heavy in the air.
More troops stumbled through the dust cloud, tripping over debris, wild wide eyes darting around frantically as they tried to make sense of where they were. Still bodies lay dispersed around, a thin layer of dust beginning to settle on them already.
A man staggered into Vi’s line of sight, nearly tripping over a stray piece of rock. He was clutching a red bundle between his fingers.
It took Vi a second to realise he hadn’t tripped over rubble.
He’d tripped over someone’s foot detached from their body.
It took her another second to realise he was holding his innards in his bare hands.
The man took one last look at Vi, silent pleading in his eyes, before collapsing onto his knees and looking down defeatedly at the contents of his stomach.
Vi began to call out for her captain, her voice drowned amongst the despair-filled cries of the wounded and dying. Her tone became more desperate as she continued to shout, her throat growing hoarse and dry.
A hand reached out from the mist and grabbed her shoulder. Vi spun around.
Ocean met storm.
“Cait,” Vi exhaled breathlessly. Her hands frantically ran over her captain’s face and upper body, checking for any injury or abrasions. Vi said a silent prayer when she realised there wasn’t any. “What the fuck-“
“I need you to find Claggor and Marcus.” Cait took Vi’s hands in her own and pulled them away. There was a sharp determined tone in the undercurrent of her voice.
“What?” Vi exclaimed. She waved her arms around in emphasis. “Have you seen what the fuck’s happening?”
Siren sound slowly began bleeding into the distance, their strong wails closing in by the second. Blue and red lights seeped into the cloud forming above their heads.
“Yes, Violet, I see what’s happening,” Cait snapped, her expression unwavering. “You need to find Claggor and Marcus. Get to my car.” Her hands sprung to her pockets, scrabbling desperately before producing a pair of keys. Her fingers shook as she handed the fob to Vi. “I’m going to get Viktor and Jayce. If I’m not there in fifteen minutes, drive and don’t look back.”
Vi snatched the keys and opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it at the look of desperation in Cait’s eyes.
Squeezing Vi’s wrist one last time, her captain disappeared back into the fog, leaving the pilot standing in the midst of the chaos yet again.
Vi turned on her heels and made a break for the nearest building, just as the shrill scream of a second fighter jet sounded in the distance.
***
Caitlyn wasn’t following protocol.
That was all that was reverberating in Vi’s mind as she furiously sprinted into the meeting hall, narrowly avoiding the second bombing wave by mere seconds. The walls vibrated as she entered, small trails of dust raining down from the ceiling.
The hall was packed wall-to-wall with uniformed bodies. Orders echoed through the masses, loud barks of commands issued by the senior officers, shepherding their troops just as Noxus had mockingly implied just moments ago.
This was the standard procedure for a station-wide emergency. It was a drill they’d run hundreds of times before, everyone knowing their place, each soldier and troop having their own job to do. Thousands of moving parts supposed to run like a well-oiled machine.
By the looks of things, whatever machine they were meant to be mimicking had crashed and burned a long time ago.
But why wasn’t Cait here?
The desperation in her voice was something Vi had never heard before. Not on any of their previous missions. She wasn’t acting like a captain anymore; she was acting like a scared dog on its hunches backed into a corner.
Vi spotted Marcus almost instantly. He was at the front of the hall, stood on the raised platform with the rest of the Corps of Justice members, shouting and pointing and shouting some more at the people beneath him.
“Marcus!” Vi bellowed through the crowd. She began shoving her way through, ignoring the grunts of disproval from her fellow troops, her hand raised in a desperate attempt to flag the other officer down.
Marcus didn’t notice Vi until she was right under his nose, panting and heaving in exasperation. “Vi!” Marcus called out. “Get to the airstrip, we need you to-“
“No!” Vi cut him off, her chest still rising and falling unsteadily as she took deep ragged breaths. “No. Captain needs you.”
Side-eyeing the rest of the Corps of Justice, Marcus hesitated before hopping down to stand level with Vi. Even in the dim lighting of the meeting hall, he’d never looked more aged than now. “That’s not the procedure, Vanderson. We’re meant to-“
“I know,” Vi huffed. She’d finally caught her breath and lowered her voice to speak to him more confidentially. “Wasn’t a suggestion. She told me to get you and Claggor and get to her car. Do you know where he is?”
Marcus just stared back down at her. His eyebrows furrowed, locked deep in thought, as if he were weighing out his two options. Then, he finally spoke. “I saw him running off to the chow hall. Wherever he’s going, it’s sure as shit not where he’s meant to be.”
“Okay.” Vi inhaled slowly. Her shoulders shuddered. “Okay. We need to get him.”
Before Marcus could object, Vi grabbed him by the upper arm and charged out of the hall.
***
The research labs were already in flames by the time Caitlyn arrived.
Of course they were. Of course they fucking were. If Ambessa was to give orders o target any one building, it had to be the research labs, where they had come so damn close to cracking Shimmer and getting one step ahead of winning this war.
Thick clouds of smoke swelled from every orifice of the building. The windows were already shattered; hude shards of glass lay discarded on the ground at each frame. Even from her distance, Caitlyn could see huge walls of amber fire consuming every room, tendrils of flames licking the ceilings.
In a brief moment of clarity, Caitlyn stunted the animal part of her brain and ran straight into the building.
A wave of heat rushed to her face instantaneously. Smoke was already beginning to fill her lungs, making her cough and splutter as she desperately sprinted down the main corridor, removing her elbow from her mouth to call out for Viktor and Jayce before recovering her mouth again.
At the end of the hall, Viktor hobbled out from his office, followed by Jayce who scooped himself under one of Viktor’s elbows to support him as they headed towards Caitlyn’s voice. The captain dashed over to help.
“Need to get to my car,” Cait managed to tell them between huffs of fatigue.
The other two didn’t respond. They were too focused on the light of hope ahead of them, their only escape window slowly being closed in on by monstrous flames.
Above them, the ceiling began to crack and sag, a splintering sound reverberating across the blackened walls. Without warning, a section of the roof came down just inches from their back feet.
Caitlyn and Viktor managed to escape the sudden collapse. Jayce wasn’t as lucky.
The engineer went down like a sack of potatoes. Wails of his agony filled the hallway as he scrabbled to free his ankle, which had been pinned down by a rogue support beam falling straight on top of it.
There was a moist pop, followed by a sickening crunch when he finally freed his appendage. Jayce looked down at his feet and screamed out even louder.
Caitlyn nearly threw up in her mouth. A fragmented piece of bone was now sticking out of a section of Jayce’s leg.
“Ohmyfuckinggodohfuckohgod,” Jayce wailed, hands shaking as he clutched at the fabric of his trousers just above his ankle, still laying on the floor.
Caitlyn ignored his pleads and leapt into action. She abandoned Viktor’s side, grabbing Jayce by the shoulder and forearm and hoisting him over her shoulder, supporting him just as she’d been doing with Viktor moments ago.
Tears streaked down Jayce’s soot-covered face as he desperately hobbled on his uninjured leg, pushing all of his weight into Caitlyn, who inhaled and exhaled sharply with each push forward.
In some divine act of mercy, the trio broke out into daybreak, just as the research lab combusted in an earth-shattering explosion.
***
Vi’s fingers rapped nervously against the cool leather of Caitlyn’s steering wheel. Her eyes darted frantically in each mirror and out of each window, scanning meticulously for any sign of Caitlyn or the rest of their squad.
Marcus and Vi had eventually found Claggor in the chow hall. He’d shoved his great frame under one of the tables, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees and bringing them into his chest, babbling to himself incoherently when Vi had gone under to talk to him.
His head had snapped up instantly at the sound of his sister’s voice. But she wasn’t looking into the eyes of the headstrong man she’d known for all these years.
She was staring into the eyes of a scared little boy.
Eventually, she’d worked him down from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to, and managed to get them all to where Caitlyn had left her car in the officers’ parking lot. Now it was a waiting game. On the other side of the station, screams and explosions could still be heard.
At every tiny noise, Vi found herself praying that her captain wasn’t the source.
Thirteen minutes after receiving the set of keys, three figures limped into the car park. The screaming wasn’t so distant anymore.
Jayce was hollering in pain. And when Vi saw his leg, she understood why.
Without hesitation, she flung the car door open and sprinted over to help, taking an arm from Viktor and steering Jayce back towards the car. He held onto Vi’s shoulder with a vice-like grip, his knuckles going as white as his face. Viktor scooted into the backseat and Jayce followed suit, throwing himself across the laps of Marcus and Claggor in the process, yelling in agony with each miniscule jolt to his leg.
Flinging into the driver’s seat, Cait turned the ignition and waited for Vi to clamber in before slinging the car into reverse. She peeled the vehicle back, threw the gearbox into 1st, and peeled out of the parking lot.
***
The car’s cabin stuffed up instantly with the scent of smoke from their clothes and the metallic tangy blood oozing from Jayce’s leg.
Their engineering officer hadn’t stopped crying as they thundered down the highway, thrashing and convulsing in the back like a fish out of water. Viktor attempted to soothe him, running his slender fingers through Jayce’s slick damp hair, but nothing would calm him down.
No-one had checked their phones. Caitlyn hadn’t even put the radio on. They all knew what story every single news outlet would be posting about; they didn’t need a reminder.
Caitlyn’s eyes stayed glued to the road the entire time. She didn’t look back at anyone or say anything – just kept staring ahead, face unreadable.
“Cait…” Vi trailed off, looking over at her captain. The pilot was on the edge of her seat, unable to settle. “Cait, where are we going?”
“Back to the old house,” Cait said sharply, precise. Her eyes didn’t budge. “Mel still lives there. I’ll explain everything when we arrive.”
From the backseat, Marcus scoffed. “Captain, with all due respect, we might’ve left a lot of fucking people back there to die,” he drawled. “I think we deserve an inkling as to why you broke us all out of our procedures.”
Caitlyn just sighed. Heavily. She tapped her indicator on to pull off of the motorway down a slip road. “We have a different procedure,” she retorted coolly.
“Oh yeah?” Marcus barked a laugh. “Were you ever going to let us in on that?”
“It was a contingency plan drawn up by Heimerdinger and myself when the war started to pick up,” she explained slowly. Her words were careful, rehearsed. “A different protocol. Just for our squad. We’ve got different orders to the rest of the troops.”
“Anything else you can tell us, captain? Or are you bound to secrecy?” This came from Viktor. His sarcastic words were laced with venom.
Cait paused for a moment. She rolled her tongue across the roof of her mouth, as if tasting the words before she spoke. “Doomsday,” she said simply.
“What?”
“In the event of an army-wide attack, and a break in the regular command structure, we engage in the Doomsday protocol.”
The car fell silent.