Pens, pots and plants

The roaring engine bursts through the Zaun district in a long monotonous rumble, pedestrians move out of the way to let the bike pass through. The driver is smooth in her movements, careless, nonetheless. 
The loud pops and rumbles of the motorbike's exhaust came to a stop after a light flicker resonated and the pops turned into weaker thumps until they reached the crossroads. She turns as she slows to a stop, perfectly facing the door of the Last Drop, a renowned pub in the district.

"Fucking idiots!" A muffled voice within the black helmet. Vi's foot swung above the seat, the other firmly planted on the ground. Dust filled the air up her lose, partially destroyed leather boots as they set on the ground in a vivid motion.

"You can't park here." 

Vi wasn't sure she had heard right, nor seen who was addressing her. She was struggling with a strand of hair caught in the helmet somehow. With the helmet held loosely on her hip, she ran her free hand in her hair, putting it back in place randomly, but it seemed to do the job.

"Excuse me but I have an ass to beat and a lesson to teach, I don't have time for that." Her eyes swept at the thin officer in front of her, her shoulders followed her hips and feet towards the wooden double door. A light grip on her wrist put a stop to her movement, above her shoulder, a stern pair of dark blue eyes.

"Me neither so we'll make it quick, alright?" The thick accent pulled Vi into a sticky situation, as she thought. She turned around. The broad leathered shoulders freeing the equally strong, equally dressed wrists from the officer's grip.

Caitlyn did not move; her eyes did not flinch. Instead, her long and thin nose covered a forced but pleased smile while the pink haired punk slowly walked back to her bike to put down her helmet. She ignored her grunts and mumbles, simply endeared by her first encounter of her first day in the district. She had been there for 30 minutes, and it happened right at her feet. The biker was impatiently standing before her when she asked for her license and the vehicle documents. Her eyes drifted through the first piece of paper.

“Nice to meet you, Violet.”, she read the card once more before moving on to the second document, once again, ignoring Vi’s grunt. “It says here the bike belongs to a… Vander?”

“Yeah, it’s my dad’s, he gave it to me.” Vi responded with a loud sigh, her fingers impatiently tapping the body of the motorcycle behind her while her eyes were fixated on the hands holding her information.

“Here to confirm you didn’t steal it?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow to examine Vi’s reaction.

“No, not here to confirm.” Vi’s fists tightened until the knuckles turned white, thus instantly stopping Caitlyn in her reading motion for the couple seconds it took the red head to calm down.

“Alright then that makes us all set, make sure to put that bike under your name soon, though.” Caitlyn shrugged, and after she handed the documents back, she reached for her belt and pulled out a pen and a book.

Vi barely had the time to pack her papers back in the inside pocket of her jacket that the click of a pen altered her focus. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.

“Giving you a ticket for illegal parking, obviously.” Caitlyn had opened her book and carefully wrote the information, the azurite pen glided on the thin piece of paper. It looked fancy and heavy, Vi was partially blinded by the golden pieces attached to the pen who shun bright light in her eyes every so often as the enforcer filled out the small page, the pen shifting in smooth loops, catching sunrays and reverberating them as it went.

“Sweet as a cupcake.” Vi muttered, she leaned back to rest on the motorcycle, her skin near the buttocks was uncovered by her jacket, her exposed lower back tattoos colliding with the cold black paint. She rolled her eyes at the many frustrations growing inside.

“I beg you pardon?”

“Did I offend you? You’re gonna charge me for that, too?”

Caitlyn hesitated. The click of her pen was jostling her chin while many thoughts visibly tangled in her mind. “I could.” She finally ripped the ticket out of its book and held it in front of her. Vi took the ticket and laughed at the neatness of the handwriting. “It’s your first day, isn’t it?” She stuffed the small piece of paper in the back pocket of her tight black jeans. “It is my first day in this part of the city, yes, but I’ve known my job since well before you mistook the pedestrian street for a parking spot, that’s for sure.”

“You got a whole lot of opinions on a first day. Where’s Grayson?”

“Thank you, and she’s been deployed to another district.” The ticket book made its way to its original spot, clipped to the enforcer duty belt securely. Caitlyn’s hand reached her back pocket, she struggled to take out the small notebook that was tightly put in its previous space.

“Damn, where though?”

“The Sheriff’s business is none of yours.” She didn’t bother to look up, her stern expression shot Vi with precision, thus installing a small silence between them.

“Right… So, you’re replacing her?”

The small notebook snapped close and disappeared to its original spot, along with the shiny pen.
“I am, sorry to disappoint.” She finally looked up to her interlocutor, the same tight, pleased smile across her face.

“Are we done now?”

“I believe we are, thank you very much for your precious time.”

Vi let out yet another grunt. Her helmet found its way back to Vi’s hips as she stepped towards the wooden double door. She hoped she’d finally be able to get inside as she had just remembered she was supposed to kick an ass on her day off.

The wood creaked at the swift and almost brutal motion. It was the only way to get the door to open fully though, not enough force and the door blocks halfway, but too much force and the door might break. Like the staff didn’t have enough to put up with.
When she kicked open the doors, an argument between two young men got interrupted. One sighed in relief to find Vi while the other jumped and hid behind the counter. His eyes jolt up from the wooden surface. “Shit Vi I’m sorry okay I didn’t mean to break it please Vi don’t beat me up!” The skinnier, more fragile male figure pleaded.

“Shut up Mylo I’ve heard just enough this morning.” Vi said, defeated as she put the helmet on the first table on her path, by the left-hand side of the entrance.

“Wait so you’re not mad at me?” Her brother stood up, revealing a thick fluffy mustache.

“I’ve got other issues. We just got a parking fine.” She held the crumpled ticket from her pocket up in the air, over her head.

“We?! Seriously Vi we did not need this.” The other figure spoke up, he was a bulky young man who had a round and warm face. “Well yeah, me neither!” Vi got closer to the counter, glaring at the scared being still hidden behind the bar top.

“It wouldn’t have been a problem if no dumbass thought it was the best idea to tinker around the fucking pint machine on my day off!” She had walked around to take a closer look at the draft beers tower.

Claggor sighed, “You’re right…”

“Fuck yeah I’m right now I need a screwdriver, a blowtorch and the closest thing to a needle you can find.” She commanded, a menacing darkness glooming in her eyes.

Claggor lifted his shoulders and showed his hands were full of pints, cups and glasses of all kinds, hinting he couldn’t supply Vi for the moment.

“Why the blowtorch?” Mylo asks, curious and empty handed as he stood up.

“To burn the mustache of idiots that can’t do shit with their hands now get me what I asked.” Vi snapped back with gritted teeth as her gaze stuck on the machine, twisting knobs and pushing buttons, revealing the machine might be clogged somewhere in the pipes inside.

Mylo flinched and rushed down a flight of stairs in one jump. Came back a few minutes later with the two needed tools she asked for.

Vi had calmed down, screwing bolts in an out, her ministrations collected and precise inside the machine. Claggor had watched Vi work through the process of fixing the machine, he asked a few questions here and there and took mental notes in case similar trouble were to happen. When Vi was almost done and running troubleshoots, Claggor had another question.

“So, what happened with the ride?”

“A new enforcer is replacing Grayson’s patrol; she didn’t like seeing Vander’s ride, so she fined me.” She poured a pint of fresh beer. “Here, all fixed.” The thick glass impact on the counter formed a wave of small bubbles from the bottom of the pint, they smashed at the base of the foam, making it rise and expand until some spilled along the side of the jug. Claggor did not ask further questions, he watched his older sister wash her hands and dry them with one of the many towels sprawled on the underside of the drink station. “Need my help for today’s shift?” Claggor resumed minding his business when he answered: “No it’s okay Vi we got it”.

Vi nodded and grabbed onto the freshly poured beer pint handle.  “Then I guess I’ll see ya later, have fun.”

“Yeah, you too. Thank you for helping us out I’m sorry we made you come.” He watched her shrug the thanks away and walk towards Mylo who was cleaning the few remaining tables before the bar opens, in five minutes or so. “Hey Mylo.”

Mylo side eyed her, afraid he’d get in trouble if he speaks, he felt a strong but friendly pat on the back. “I know you wanted to do good, but you should know better than to smash the machine hoping it’ll fix things.”

“How would you know I did that?”

“When I was up close, I couldn’t help but notice the tiny dents above the machine, near the lever, you know? Now I’m seeing your red elbow, and it all makes sense.” Vi’s face painted a shit-eating grin.

Mylo scoffed in embarrassment; he slid his rolled-up sleeve back down to his wrist, trying to hide the few scratch marks. When he looked back up, his sister was headed towards the entrance where she had left her helmet. She picked it up, put it on, brushed the hair lock out of her eyes and waved the boys goodbye.

“I’m heading out, if you need anything, don’t reach me. Thanks.” And the doors closed behind her, soon followed by the rumbling engine right outside.

Caitlyn had spent her first day mostly alone. She appreciated it, for once, her mother wasn’t ordering her to run errands while on her job and she wasn’t teamed up with the worst colleagues to ever step foot in Piltover. This job change was sudden, she heard a week prior from her mentor Sheriff Grayson that she’d replace her watch in downtown Zaun while she was sent to another location for a couple of weeks. She’d told her an investigation was needed elsewhere, somewhere that required someone very competent. Young Kiramman did not protest, the opportunity to breathe a different air, to meet new people and to actually be helpful to the community couldn’t be laid off. Though, she couldn’t hide that it stressed her out, tremendously.

The last time she saw her mentor, she bargained answers to her many questions, to which Grayson gently pat her shoulder with her strong, calloused hands and said: “You’ll figure it out, Kiramman.” With the warm smile that helped Caitlyn befriend her when she was a little kid.

“Three fines, two fights separated and one elder lady helped. If that’s not a successful day.” One of her coworkers snickered at her face as she stepped out of the deputy’s office after her first daily report. The man had always bothered her since she was a recruit enforcer. Teasing, at first, classic newbie hazing. Then, as she grew up through her puberty, the teasing mixed with flirting; his hands would arbitrarily find their way on her waist or between her shoulder blades, he’d comment on her mien every time she’d pass by him in the streets, corridors and any space she wasn’t able to control whether his presence would be a burden to her or not.

It lasted until one day when his hand reached the limit she had fixed in her mind. That day, she effortlessly handcuffed him and put him on his knees in front of everyone at the precinct, between the coffee machine and the Sheriff’s office. After she dragged him from door to door, she barely reminisces the conversation between Grayson, the man and herself in the closed space, but even since then, him and his couple of enforcer friends have been teasing her verbally. For obvious reasons, she preferred this over any form of physical assault, and her self-defense skills frightened them enough to keep them away, so she let it slide.

Her biggest exploit in her career is the great catch of the “Loo Monster”, a smooth operator who had ruined multiple public and private toilets across the city. The brute left no traces other than excrements through his dozens of crimes.
It turned out to be an old man who hardly remembered his own name and who happened to know very little people, thus making him almost unidentifiable.

The thrill of the catch was there, but her colleagues could never stop calling her the “shit detective” or other derogatory names for years.

Not that these words were getting into her head, she was a fierce Kiramman lady, after all. Her status has been nothing but an inconvenience, except that despite it all, her name made her who she was, and there was no shame in the details of her existence. Pupil and student in the best Private school in Piltover, best junior hunter, best marksman on paper and practice (but barely on duty, her mother insisted on that.), lead detective on many resolved cases through the upper city and on top of that, a remarkable baker.
She had it all, and she worked hard for it. Her mind was set to excellence, not solely for the eyes of her overly protective parents, especially her mother who was also exceedingly expectant of her only daughter, but also for herself, she believed she needed to be more. She was ready to venture into the unknown, to fight, to defend.

She kept her pointy chin up as she passed her colleague, headed straight to the locker room, she changed into more civilian clothing, untied and brushed her silky smooth, straight dark hair, the small mirror on the locker door revealed the dark blue glare shining on them whilst packing her handbag with her duty uniform.

The moonlight shuns shyly across the flat-paved street, the clicks of her boots barely audible; the street was crowded, as Piltover merrily approved of on Thursday nights. Piltovians and Zaunites had various bars, lounges, pubs, clubs, you name it; to themselves to unite. Students, elderly, singles and couples could spend a night out, discounts applied at every corner, and the funicular drove free rides every hour.

A great, perfect even, excuse for Caitlyn to escape her parents, just for one night.

She wishes.

She remembered she had parked her car further ahead this morning. There’s a small fair taking place in the parking lot where her car usually awaits her.
A small Ferris wheel, a baby carrousel and a churros and waffle food truck. Cute. She walked down the alleyway, appreciated the view; families enjoying a walk, kids and adults licking ice cream cones, couples holding hands reading restaurants menus, friend groups arguing over who chug their beer the fastest, even a stray cat is enjoying the party!

It took 20 minutes for Caitlyn to drive from Piltover’s center to the Kiramman estate, the night guard was patiently waiting to open the gate to the driveway. They greeted each other quickly as she drove past.
She’d asked for independence the day she turned 18 years old; it was to her surprise when her mother seemingly understood the assignment. Caitlyn was not pleased when Cassandra Kiramman gave her a single key the next day. The Kiramman house seal ornated the brass with golden accents. She’d given her the key to the farthest bedroom from her parent’s.
She still had to come home through the heavily decorated entrance, walk past the living room placed in the hall before the grand stairs. The room had painted and photographed family portraits hung on every wall.

Tonight was no exception. Her mother and father waited for her to tell them about her first day. It’s a big moment of her life after all. She composed herself before stepping closer to her family drinking tea on the facing sofas, expecting small talk and a kiss goodnight. She just wanted small talk and a kiss goodnight.
“Caitlyn, dear, how was your introductory watch in Zaun? any trouble?”

“It was alright, and no hassle to be noted so far.” she sighed and sat next to her father to embrace him in a side hug. Her mother started:

“Fantastic. Although I didn’t expect any less considering you declined my proposal to work directly as a member of the Council’s security staff to accept whatever Grayson’s been doing in these streets.”

“And whose fault is that?! If only I had been allowed to have other friends than the Sheriff of Piltover to aspire to maybe I’d have chosen a different career path!”

“Caitlyn Kiramman! Drop that voice and attitude before we both regret our choice of words.” Cassandra menacingly scolded. Her eyes battled with her daughter’s, but the wisdom, experience and wit that emanated from the Kiramman’s House leader suffocated the room. She was sitting, her cup of tea on her knees, a royal posture. Separated the carved wooden coffee table, Caitlyn grunted in frustration and stormed off towards the statement hallway that led to her more private quarters.

“I think our daughter’s mad at us.” Tobias chuckled, an attempt to lighten the mood before heading to the dining hall.

Caitlyn had spent her first day mostly alone. And least to say, the few encounters were not glorious.