Pens, pots and plants

Caitlyn’s second day started with an advantage: she had a reason to avoid her parents, mainly her mother since their little argument the night before.
She'd eaten her breakfast in bed as a little treat for her second day. She'd survived the first day outside Piltover, after all.
her watch started at 9am and ended at 7pm. Starting so late in the morning made her change some of her habits: she'd workout in the morning and take a shower before leaving.
She'd go to work with her enforcer pants but she always wore something different than her uniform top, so she could been seen as more casual outside of her shift.

When arriving upon the station, she was greeted by the same colleague that spoke to her the previous evening. She ignored him, out of habit. He is not worth her time, he never will be.

In the changing room, Caitlyn put on her white button up with her fitted blue vest, she had unclipped one of the badges from her locker. The other one, which displayed her full name, has practically never moved from its place. She had never put it on.

Of course, if she ever needed identification on service she'd pull her badge with her officer number, so being "anonymous" wasn't an issue. She preferred it this way, not everyone had to know she was heir to the Kiramman's name.

She'd left right on time to park her car at 9 in the district, and walked the 2 minutes it took to get to her first destination of her watch.

She didn’t have time to settle her gaze at the full crossroad that trouble had started. In fact, trouble had ridden its way almost at her feet.  She stood there and watched the offense in action:
The same biker from the day before, riding on the same bike, landing on the same spot, right in front of the double doors.
This time, the biker looked well and collected, until her eyes crossed Caitlyn’s furrowed ones when she lifted the visor of her helmet.

“Wait, again?” An annoyed, muffled voice escaped the helmet.

“I’ll be here every day.” Caitlyn sighed as she stepped forward.

“Me too, bummer.” Vi crossed her arms, she didn’t bother to take off her helmet.

“Then why don’t you park elsewhere?” Caitlyn clicked the pen and started writing.

“This is my bike, by bar, my spot. And if you’re not happy about it, then ask Grayson to brief you on the case.”

“I will.” She held the ticket between her index and third finger with ease, as though it was a simple note.

“Alright Cupcake, until then can you not give me tickets?”

“If you move your bike then yes.” Caitlyn smiled fiercely. She would have also told her to stop calling her 'Cupcake' but there's a reason she only had her enforcer serial and not her name displayed on her chest. The Kiramman name had no business on the job, so Cupcake was fine for the moment. They'll have other time to introduce anyway, Vi was never going to move the motorbike.

Fuck, she’s a hot head. Vi's head rang.

“I miss the good ol’ days.” Vi grunted and snatched the ticket from Caitlyn's fingers.

“let the tickets rain, then!” Vi exclaimed with both her arms in the air before walking towards the wooden doors.

What a stubborn little shit. Caitlyn immediately thought.

But her chain of thoughts didn't stop there: Vi was interesting through her eyes, the tattoos, the jacket, the stance, even the stupid scar on her lip was interesting enough to occupy Caitlyn's mind. Maybe she wanted to be like her, free as a bird, reckless, rebellious, popular. Violet always seemed to be busy and running everywhere.

Truth is, Caitlyn really wanted to explore Zaun, that was her adventure plan all along. Being away from mother and discovering a new town and its people. But she couldn't get her mind off the biker, therefore making the hours pass at an alarming rate and not even remembering the names of the streets she'd have to patrol at least until Grayson comes back.
What a shame, she was out in the open yet she felt so caged in her role as a peacemaker. She was side-eyed everywhere she passed by, even shop owners weren't really sympathetic towards her. Not that they were aggressive or anything, but she felt like trust had to be earned around here and her badge did not provide that.

That day, the streets were busier but nothing much happened, she figured the whole neighborhood was really safe and pleasant overall, she liked the way the narrow streets were full of life, all generations mixed together, making fond memories as one people; trouble was out the picture for those citizens, she was left to wonder why.
Suddenly, she found herself at her last stop, that damned crossroads, packed with drunken but harmless people, making memories they will definitely not remember by tomorrow. The motorbike hadn't move, she grunted at the sight, but did nothing about it and went back to the precinct, then home after she'd change., still avoiding her parents, feeling as lonely as before.

On the third morning, something was unusual, not that a routine had made it’s way yet, but Vi’s bike was already parked outside and the lights were out.
This kind of caught Caitlyn off guard, she appreciated the sight of Violet and the guilty pleasure of giving her her ticket for the day. 'Let the tickets rain'? Oh, they'll rain, it's only been three days, even more to come.
Caitlyn had clicked her pen already, eager to fill this small piece of paper she was used to hold at this time of the day anyway. She wrote the necessary information in regards of the offense, and kept the ticket in its place. She took the two steps needed to walk past the motorbike to stand in front of the double door.
Caitlyn had a plan, she was just about to visit the Last Drop for the first time on this Saturday morning and give Violet her ticket.

"Don't you dare step a fucking foot in my bar!" She heard a familiar voice scream from within the pub. Caitlyn would've thought the message was addressed to her, but how could Violet know she was even there in the first place, until she heard: "ever again!" a second later, accompanied by the sound of a flying... Chair?
She took a few steps back, retracing her path way behind the bike, way out of the perimeter around the bar. Less than a minute passed by and the door slammed open, a tall, muscular dark skinned figure stepped out. The woman had broad arms and shoulders and seemed much taller than the pub's owner. Her short bob of brown hair complimented the woman's nose and mouth, which drew an unpleased pout. The figure spoke: "You're acting all tough, but you're weaker than he ever was. Get a grip Vi, this is as good as it gets." And just like that, she vanished in one of the narrow streets that departed from the crossroads, her cape hiding her form.
Caitlyn couldn't deny that she stared the whole time, eventually, some loud noises coming from the pub took her out of her chain of thoughts. She was now focused on the sounds smashing against the inner walls of the Last Drop. Something about other flying chairs and out loud curses to the world (and probably towards that mysterious woman too.) made her postpone her idea of paying a visit.

During her shift, which was not exciting, much like the previous day on the job, she couldn’t get her mind to think about anything else other than Violet, nicknamed Vi, apparently.

This unhinged, obstinate and utterly insolent punk would get a parking fine every day if it meant the bike was in front of those doors, under the bright neon sign.

And why wasn’t she protesting? Why was she so stubborn to just… Take it and not bother even moving the bike.
She knew there was more to the story, due to this “Vander’s” gift and his absence, as she’s guessed from their few “discussions” around the vehicle’s owner.
But she couldn’t crack the mystery behind the pink haired biker. Maybe she could ask Grayson as Violet so kindly told her to, she had to admit, she agreed Grayson could have briefed her on the watch, on the people.

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, one that Caitlyn willingly jumped right on about a week prior, when Grayson asked if she was willing to take her position in the district of Zaun, as she was about to leave it for the first time in over 30 years of service.
She’s always held this position in the district. From when she was a recruit enforcer, to the middle of this week when she had to leave to investigate at another district in Piltover for an ongoing investigation that needed her help.
For 10 years, she’s done her watch alone. Usually, patrols were done in pairs, for plenty of reasons such as safety, communication and better force, but Grayson had other ways in her district. The one she basically grew up in.

Her authority and force did a great job at maintaining the people and various businesses and habitations safe. And her charisma and character made her befriend the neighborhood through the years. All her previous colleagues that accompanied her since her superior had passed were terrible annoyances. Trying to play tough, to treat Zaunites as though they were trash. So, when she became the Sheriff, she naturally established that she’d do her watch alone and spend the time with her old friends and their new families. Oh, the terrors she'd witnessed, the destroyed families she had on watch. She couldn't give them to just anybody.

When she asked Caitlyn about the job, she meant to also be alone on the job. Grayson trusted these people and would never betray them and send a pair of enforcers that no one knew, out of the blue.
She trusted Caitlyn Kiramman, who she’s had under her wing since very little, thanks to her strong will to hold a rifle, like she’d seen her mother do so often. They'd gotten close through the years, she entrusted her to do a good job at keeping these people at peace. Caitlyn was aware the district meant a lot to Grayson, but she didn’t know why and to what extent.

It was all… precipitated. Grayson couldn’t make the time to tell her people that she’d be gone for a few weeks, she wished she had. Caitlyn wished too. Why not introduce such an important character as pink hair Violet from the Last Drop?
Caitlyn found her interesting. Although it did take her 3 days to fully take in the first encounter that presented her face every morning.
What a sight she was not allowed to act upon? Let’s face it, Caitlyn has a problem, it’s always been her problem.

She loved women.

Not that her sexual orientation was ever an issue, she was a proud lesbian since her teens, nobody’s ever disapproved, except for a few people but she let it all slide past her ears.

She loved women to much, to many, she was sort of a… womanizer.

Her mother had scolded her for it, multiple times, bringing "friends" over, a lot.

Cassandra Kiramman drew the line when she found out Caitlyn had girls sneak in her bedroom, from her window.
As a classic Kiramman lady, she waited one night she’d heard the smallest sound coming from the garden. She took her rifle from underneath the bed (that was its place.) and surprised Caitlyn and the girl. Eventually, the intruder got scared and ran away from the same window she had not so glamorously climbed to get in seconds before.
She had since then prohibited Caitlyn from seeing someone, anyone, unless her mother introduced her. Caitlyn’s had her fun, apparently. That’s what her mother told her.

Her feet went along with her thoughts, and just as her mind was about to think of the biker, she set foot at the crossroads, her last destination of the day.
The sun was setting, she was in for about 30 minutes before heading back to her car towards the precinct before putting an end to her workday.

It’ll be a minute before the last bits of natural light go out and the street is left illuminated but the many signs, streetlights, windows that made the unique glow in Zaun.

Especially the huge neon sign resembling an eye, its green light reflected on the round sign written The Last Drop. The bike was at its usual place, music was lightly booming through the double doors. It seems quite busy inside.

Caitlyn was standing outside, she felt lured by the banter inside, the crowd of people that awaited her and her enigma of the moment: Vi.

But she couldn’t talk to her, right? Because of her mom and everything… Besides, the pink head was trapped behind the bar, pouring cups on cups on her service. She had noticed because by the time she took to think upon whether she should or should not go inside, she had pushed open those damn doors and stepped in.
The bar had lowlights, the jukebox was playing loud rock music. A girl band. Almost all the tables were busy, pairs, groups, lone people crowded the place.

Then, it all happened, like in the movies:

Caitlyn, on her enforcer outfit, had shown up and stood in the middle of the bar, surrounded by people who, as glances passed and the message, whatever it was, was spread, stopped talking and just… watched her.
The sudden drop of the good atmosphere that warmed The Last Drop made Vi look up, round eyes as she tried to understand. And she saw it.

“Just who I was waiting for.” Vi grunted.
This was a surprise, everyone inside seemed to have a great night, but the bartender's difficult morning may have lingered through the day.

Caitlyn lost composure. There was this hallway of strangers in the dark, and at a distance between an inch and a mile, (Caitlyn was so lost in it she couldn’t put the space right) guided by a simple light, the sight of a sweaty, busy bartender with pink locks and cheeks who happened to have the biggest frown on her face. Oh, she had to run away.

“I came here to inform you that I was about to leave my shift.”

“And?”

“That meant I will not assure the security of the perimeter?” Caitlyn asked while raising an eyebrow, sounding like it was not difficult to get the message before.

“Well, that’s news.” Vi chuckled, “Sure, goodnight, Cupcake, um… Don’t do that ever again, okay?” Vi leaned into her ears.

Oh, so she had walked up all the way to the counter. She was, indeed, an inch close to the sweaty, busy and in a terrible mood, Vi.

“Saying you’re the one keeping my streets and my bar safe? Talking to me like I’m stupid?” Vi muttered below Caitlyn's ear. Her hands were clawed behind the counter, it seemed: the gears and cogwheels stretched on her shoulders and neck as they grew bigger, broader, indicated so.

“Oye! Loosen up with the lady, kid.” Benzo chuckled, in hope of lightening the mood and getting Vi to move on. “You’re scaring her off!”

Caitlyn nodded at the kind faced man sitting on the barstool closest to Vi, but her focus didn’t move an inch towards Vi as shivers ran down her spine and her cheeks flustered.

“I think she liked it.” Vi winked and backed out, but Caitlyn didn’t see it, no, she felt it. Deep in her core, and the image was set as though right before her eyes: Vi’s scarred lip curled in a cheeky grin, her nose lightly crunched as her grey eye winked. The batter of her eyelash sending a kiss to her ego.

She couldn’t dare think more of it, she promised her mother and herself to not just… mess around, even for one night, actually, because of the many “one nights” she’s brought in. Cherry on top the biker was an asshole tonight, so there was no plan do to much.785

Caitlyn was clever, she used some time to adjust her watch on her wrist and read the time to take a breath. One that settled her mind right.

“Oh, right on time!” She looked up swiftly from her wrist and faced Vi. “Makes me remember to give you this before my shift ends.” She reached her belt and grabbed the familiar red ticket book and ripped its first apparent page. Scribbles marked the small paper. She slipped it on the bar.

In her smart head, she had prepped a little catchphrase with it: “I hate leaving the ticket outside, it takes all the fun.” With a dominant face and everything. Very assertive. To set the mood once and for all between them.

“Get. the fuck. out of my bar.” The muttered growl ripped her out of her perfect scenario.

This sent the wrong chills down Caitlyn’s spine, down her legs even. Oh, she could never catch Vi’s eyes. She doesn’t want to see it; she truly believes she’ll have nightmares if she does.
She turned her heels and walked straight ahead. Though she felt her long legs wobble, she kept composure thanks to the strength of the Kiramman women. Never, show, anything. She walked out with her head high.

Once the door closed behind her, she let out a long, heartfelt sight. Violet did scare her. A single tear resulting from a build up of heat, then immediate ice cold from one of the worst interactions she’s ever had, fell down her cheek.

On the other side of the door, all the way behind the counter, Vi had the same profound sight, took the ticket from the counter and held her fucking self to not rip apart the wooden slab in front of her. When she felt her saliva become lava under her tongue, she turned around, slammed open the door in front of her and almost ran down the stairs, with ease and confidence, one must admit.
A few minutes later, she came back with a small duffle bag hanging from her hand, her helmet from the other. She looked more composed, more determined. A rage is still present but contained, for now. “I’m out for the night.” She didn’t explain further and walked out.

Mylo and Claggor looked a little mortified. The crowd was still there, and when Vi was very effective at pouring drinks, both boys were much faster at service, especially when both were on the task. (Inseparable, those two.) Without their sister, they’ll quickly drown. They glanced in unison at Benzo, who shrugged them off. He stood up, joined them behind the counter. “Alright kids, but someone change this savage music for me.” He flipped a hand towel over his shoulder and washed his hands. “The man who pours the drinks, chooses the tune.” He smirked, putting his elbow along the beer lever.

“Who said that?” Claggor asked. Hiding his upcoming chuckle. Mylo did the same.

“Me you rats! Now change that disc!” Benzo laughed.

Vi was somewhere in between a sink and a mirror, or in front of, she didn’t really know. She was on the third round; she had already signed for a fourth one. The amount of drinks she had between the sets remained uncounted.

After she carefully washed her unwrapped, bruised hands, she wrapped them back on with extra gauze she had in her bag. The girl came prepared.
She wiped her neck and forehead with a wet towel and used the remaining minutes before her next encounter to rest a little; she’d have another round of drinks later, for the happy hour.

Three knocks on her door, she shot right up from the cardboard makeshift bed and opened the door. She followed the broad man that oversaw security of the fighter’s attendance to the pit. She stretched her strong back, elongating her limbs higher as she followed him through the narrow concrete corridor.

“You’re up next Vi, from what I heard, you’re about to break the record.” The broad figure, familiar to Vi as Loris, smiled at her.

“That’s what I came for, right?” She winked at her friend.

“Please, welcome... the Hound of the Underground!”

That was her cue, she stepped in and took her glorious stance.

The crowd cheered from above the concrete pit. Though few figures could be discerned through the blinding light above her, she noticed the many red tickets, betting tickets on her name, stamped with the double headed wolf, the same embroidered on the back of her black leather jacket. But when she was fighting, she only had her chest bind of out bandage, very tight to keep anything out of the way when she destroyed those motherfuckers.

 The light above her made her abs stand out so clear, like her body was carved out of stone, all her muscles building a mass of curves on flexed, soft and scarred skin.
She wore makeup on those nights, Hiding the tattoo on her cheek, not wanting to reveal her identity too much. Two dark stripes from below her eyes to her chin, this was a character she’d made years ago, when Vander had died, and she couldn’t handle the hatred and the guilt for a few months. That’s where she got her form and her hairstyle.
The tattoos, though, come from a much deeper story.

Her success made her a real star there, but it’s not a life she wants in the long run, she does it because at the end of the night she kicked some ass and gained money, and that’s a good final point to a Vi story.
It lasted one second. The whole fight. The bell rang, the crowd cheered for half a second, and during the other half Vi had propelled her opponent with one tight uppercut.
The broad body flopped on the floor, and Vi was left victorious. It’s really all there is to it, she was a machine and a monster, undefeated at that.
She took the praise from her fans, as one does every so often, before being called back in by Loris.

“You’re gonna get in trouble after this one.” He said, pointing towards the few people that held green tickets and that seemed enraged by the sight of the Hound of the Underground herself.

“I’m not planning on coming back anyways.” She flipped one off, just for the fun of it.

“That’s what you always say until something shows up and you need the money or to punch a thing of two, or both.”

Vi shrugged and followed the man down the cold corridor.  “Get the drinks ready in ten, it’s on me.”

“You got it boss!” Loris had dropped her in front of her changing room, as usual.

She waved to him goodbye and locked herself in the small room.

She used the time it took her to once again check on her knuckles and care for them, to think. She tried to estimate how much money she’d packed with those few fights, how much more she needed.
Vi had made many promises, started many projects, had a few enemies and deals. She already had a handful before her old man passed, but ever since she took the handles, she was lost in the count. First thing first, she had to take care of Powder. That meant, for the moment, paying for her academic tuition, which was far more costly than she would have ever thought. After that, she was the famous owner of the Last Drop which she had yet to make it a booming business. She didn’t mind her regulars, but she needed way more than that to make her brothers live comfortably with the revenue from the bar. It was never enough, she kind of understood those maniacs that used to harass Vander to make deals and cut prices. Money was a problem, although she’s always seen it everywhere, keeping it was a hard task, in this economy, everything and everyone required money to function. And she had a lot of things that needed working.

Amongst other reasons, (such as helping Benzo at his shop sometimes through the week before his boutique became successful and he hired a couple of workers), she had those damn parking tickets she had to pay for. Getting a fine for several days because the rookie doesn’t accept that Vander’s ride belonged there way before Vi was a part of the place made her go feral. But she knew better than to get in trouble with authority. She’ll pay those fines until little miss sunshine gets the hint and gives up. Easy right? Except very fucking not, apparently, from what they had "discussed" a few hours ago.

The brawl pit was located underneath a night club in the small, dark alleys of Zaun. Vi had just reached the top of the stairs that led to the dancefloor when a skinny, fragile adult man pushed the door before she could grab the handle.
The frail, hunched figure smiled at her politely, he was holding an envelope with her red ink stamp on it. “Here, your payment…” he handed it forward. “You made quite a lot tonight; you wrecked the record from last time!”

“Thanks Huck! I had a feeling tonight might be good, See ya next time!” She took the enveloped and rushed out, the heavy envelope made her night, she was ready to party and enjoy some time out, away from everything that held her back.

Until Loris opened his mouth to once again speak nonsense after more drinks that he should've engulfed, even for a big boy like him.
"So uh... you're gonna tell me what made you break four jaws in one throw tonight?" He spoke admirably well, considering his squinting eyes and his posture. Loris barely knew about her life, he never asked, so did Vi, it was part of their strong friendship, they had another life out of all this. Vi wasn't Vander's legacy, and Loris wasn't whoever owned the big heart in his broad figure, for all Vi knows.

"Sevika paid a visit today, said she wanted to take the Last Drop as headquarters for her little resistance against Piltover. When I said no she threatened to close down Powder's hideout. And then I got told by that rookie that my streets weren't safe without her help." Vi shared names and places Loris was totally stranger of and she was aware of it. Much like she was aware Loris didn't care about knowing and understanding the story, but he did care about Vi opening up and getting the words out. So she continued: "But my highlight of the day was when this bitch slid another fucking parking ticket in front of MY people, in MY territory. I lost it."

"A rookie blue belly got you out of your ways?" Her friend asked, Vi knew Loris was an ex enforcer, it's one of the few things he'd told her about his life.

"The fucking bluest of them all, she's Caitlyn Kiramman."