The Heist
Chapter 2: Heist
There is a scar on Vis left shoulder blade. It's small and unnoteworthy compared to the rest of them, and when Vi gets inked in the future it becomes hard to find. Finding it for herself takes less than a second. Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she can feel the phantom pain, the pulse of a second, pale heart of dead skin and lost memories. It brings back that day all over again.
Having her first electrical scar was the only detail that Vi had remembered for months after the attack.
She was 14 on the bridge so hot her skin blistered and itched. The screams of people she couldn't see and the silence that followed made her head pound. She had both hands in a death grip on her sister's shoulders, urging her on, using the frizzy mess of her blue hair as a lifeline while Powder toddled on.
A 15 minute walk through the hell of angular bodies locked in the vise of death. Vi thought she saw her mother in every sagging, chewed up face on the ground. The man on his back could've been her father. Where should she go? She felt like the smoke was killing her in great dark breaths.
The reverberating snap of metal was the only warning before another bridge cable snapped. It fell from the smoke cloud above them, from nowhere, like a great snake striking. She shoved Powder away as it struck her own arm.
She might’ve called out for her sister, or her mother, but heard her was an enforcer with a shiny toy pointed at them.
What happened next Vi imagines to be a trick of the light. Something certainly exploded though, ultraviolet and for just a moment it distracted their killer. When Vi turned back, she saw the enforcer's crumpled body on the ground, overshadowed by a large and powerful man.
Vi didn’t know him- but she felt safe being in his presence. His face fell as if he knew her. Later, he would tell her that he found the bodies of their parents. Vander carried the two of them all the way to the Last Drop as fire consumed the bridge like a funeral pyre, until she could only see a black pinpoint on the horizon.
Vi opens her eyes. Her hand traces the scar lightly from under a sleeveless shirt, only a splinter length of white skin remaining. It still takes a second to reorientate herself with the wooden walls of her bedroom, eyes scanning over her sack of a bed, the ever cluttered work table, the cracks in her mirror. The pawned bottle of fuck knows from under Vanders bar sits on the end of the table, neglected.
She was hoping Vander would've noticed by now and made her day by grounding her- because she was going to quit his shop whether Vander liked it or not, and she’d like it if he felt like it was a fair trade off. Scrapping bikes was too…. unexciting of a job for Vi.
She hears heavy steps, and the door thwacks open so hard it rattles in its frame.
“Good, you're up. I've got a little assignment for you today.” Look who it is, the uncaged wrath of the undercity himself.
Vi drops her fists,“For the Gods fucking sake Vander! I could've been changing!”
Vander leans his forearm against the top of the door frame, bending down to fix Vi with a cheerful smile. She thinks he saw her swipe the whiskey into her jacket pocket, which is great.
“But you weren’t. And look, up and dressed all by yourself before noon, you're becoming quite the upstarting 19 year old.”
Dressed in his usual musky brown leather jacket, Vander is the face of the Lanes. Good natured yet intimidating, infuriatingly calm, and bleeding loyalty for his people. She’s not in the mood to be reminded of how young she still is compared to Vander. He lets her shoulder him out of her way before he grabs her hoodie like a cat's neck.
“What the- Vander!”
There goes her alcohol.
“Let's keep the day drinking to a minimum. I have a feeling you'll like this job today,” he winks, possessed with his occasional boyish excitement.
Still not grounded.
“At least let me wake up before working on another one of your lost causes, ” Vi shoots back. He looks like he doesn’t believe her excuse, but with a dismissing wave of his hand, Vi bolts up the stairs.
At the top, muffled noises of people break into the roars and howls of the thick, unwashed, greedy street stains of the Last Drop. This crowd today was shit on the bottom of your shoe that never gets scraped completely off worthy, the smoke fumes from their pipes thicker than the smell of alcohol. Ugly green light slanted in from the holes in the brass pipes, overshadowed by the yellow gasglow lanterns haphazardly affixed around the bar.
Despite the honest livelihood of the drinkers around her, Vi relaxes, spotting Mylo and Claggor at the bar.
Vi slams her hand on the counter making Mylo jump as usual.
“Why are you underage little boys sitting at the bar?”
Mylo scooches over a seat for her, hiding a bottle of something under his jacket while he mutters “What does that make you” under his breath.
Vi slides onto the metal stool responding,
“Old enough to quit the mechanic shop.”
Claggor leans in conspiratorially.
“I heard Vander pulled some strings to have you work on this bike. Talked it over with Benzo and everything. It's promising, for sure.”
“Another bike from Benzo’s? Only thing promising about that is that it's already stripped. And I for one am tired of working on engine parts all day when we could be scoring actual gold.” She cracks her knuckles as Claggor and Mylo eye her.
Mylo, already anticipating her plan, steeples his fingers together. “Are we finally going Topside? Is the Vi herself finally taking us Topside?”
Vi crosses her arms, fighting a grin. “Got a place scoped out and everything. If we leave right now we'd be back before Vander calls last round.”
Claggor pushes back from the bar. “There is no way Vander would allow it- if he found out we'd be…. we’d be in big trouble.” Poor guy has never been grounded by Vander before.
“When does he have time to find out? And we need you up there with us- you know the value of all that Piltie crap better than any of us.”
Claggor looks uneasy. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Come on Clag,” Vi prompts. “Please, please don’t make me do it alone with Mylo.”
A knowing sympathy replaces the unease on Clagors face as his eyes flick to Mylo, who’s actively picking his nose. He sighs once, and Vi knows she’s won.
“Alright. I’m in.”
Vi grins.
“Good. I’ve been meaning to take those rich fucks down a peg.”
Mylo spins around and leans back against the bar with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Ok ladies, none of you asked but yeah, the marvelous picklocking Mylo will join you to make sure you don’t kill yourselves.” Mylo waggles a finger at her for emphasis.
“As long as you don't bring her along, Vi.”
“Who, Powder? Topside? Not a chance.”
“She's gotten a lot better than she was,” Claggor says, coming to her defense as always.
“Yeah, and Vi was twice as good at half her age.”
Vi leans her head on her fist while the boys argue over her. She’s been through hell and back with her sister, but she’s not ready. Vi used to have a vision of Powder growing up to be some crafty pickpocket, or a hell of a punch. For some gravity-defying, life-shattering reason, life in the Lanes hasn’t toughened up the little shit at all.
Vi would take her- when she was older, when she didn’t have to watch her back or pick her up when she fell down. She made her a promise she’d look after her, even if she had to leave her behind to do it.
Vi stands abruptly.
“You gonna pay for that drink Mylo?”
Mylo freezes with the bottle half way to his lips, like he hadn’t been sipping from it since the moment Vi saw him.
“I totally brought this in with me.”
The boys follow, clambering around the crowd to catch up with her.
Behind the bar, a wild blue head of hair peeks out as the door grinds to a close. Powder hesitates for only a moment before following them.
~
Piltover looks so clean from above. The rows of marble housing are all even with the street level- they built their infrastructure high on purpose, to accommodate their massive egos. Gods, even the roof looks too clean for someone like Vi to be standing on. It’s a powder blue day, fluffy clouds floating occasionally in front of the hot sun, the whole city goddamned picturesque.
Vi crouches down to where her best friends are huddled, both of them bickering about the plan. She catches a snippet from Mylo-
“It’s an academy building- who even owns their own private academy building? Aren’t they all supposed to be connected to like, the academy? There’s gotta be students in there. Not that I’d mind yknow, if it’s the women’s dorm.“
“How many times are you going to say academy?” Claggor complains. “And second, Vi wouldn’t have us looting some woman’s underwear drawer.” Claggor looks at Vi in confirmation.
“Just make sure you’re paying attention because I’m going to show you how to get in.”
Vi stands and looks out across the roof. Blurry topsiders are smaller than the tip of her pinky- the less people able to see them, the better.
Vi jumps onto the opposing slanted roof, an easy six foot jump. Turning, she reaches out as she makes her next jump, grabbing onto the bars of the balcony. The impact rattles the gate in its hinges; some jar full of round white candies topples down and shatters all over the ground. She watches one roll off the side and fall for 10 seconds before she estimates it lands. That’s fine, right? People drop shit all the time.
“Ok, now do exactly that!” she calls up.
Two resounding thumps follow, until all of them are on the roof, although Claggor’s impact nearly topples the gate over.
Mylo bends down and pops one of the candies in his mouth as he eyes the door before him, trying to break the ball between his teeth with an awful scraping sound.
“Are these stale? They’re so hard.”
With an incredible display of finally focusing, Mylo unleashes his scrappy little pocket tool upon the fancy brass lock just as they hear a third jumper hitting the roof.
She turns to see her sister waving her arms sporadically, trying to keep her balance.
“Powder!”
Vi’s heart is climbing up her throat. Did she follow them? Did she seriously just jump? Powder?
Powder tips over the ledge when something large and square flies through the air striking her in the back, the momentum enough to send her sprawling flat on the rooftop. Vi leaps back over, stumbling over her feet as she lands.
“Oh fuck, fuck fuck Powder, are you ok?”
Vi rubs her hands into Powder's shoulders trying to rouse her. Powder groans, rubbing one of her hands on her bruised back.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Vi grabs her arms tightly, Powder grimacing at the harshness of her voice.
She points her finger in Vi’s face.
“You guys said I couldn’t do it! Well I just jumped so I’m ready. I want to help Vi!”
Vi looks back to where Claggor watching them, Mylo still picking at the lock. An old, familiar gauntlet lays on the roof- one of Vanders old boxing gloves.
“Good throw, Clag.”
Claggor shoots her a thumbs up before he turns and charges the door, breaking it open. Vi turns back to her sister.
“When this is over, you and I are going to have a little talk.”
Powder pretends not to hear her, already excited at being officially on the mission.
~
“Who’s house is this?” Powder asks, blue eyes the size of dinner plates.
Vi takes in the space, hands on her hips.
“Someone who’s filthy rich.”
The primary room swam in a deep navy blue, with gleaming brass furnishings lined along every window, wall, and tile. The sun is gleaming through the windows, giving the whole room a sense of space despite the amount of junk hogging the tables. Every surface is covered in something shiny, something that looks like an electrical hazard, or something overflowing with a thousand pieces of notes. A literal silver spoon catches her eye, left in a half drunk tea saucer. The owner couldn’t have been out for much longer than an hour- topsiders don’t leave things dirty for long.
Vi picks up one of the leather bound books as the others set about tearing the room apart, unsurprised that the handwriting is obnoxiously neat. She takes note of the disabled cameras in the corner.
Vi shuts the book as much as the overflow allows, and a small object falls out. Blue and shiny, like a tiny flower petal. When Vi holds it between her fingers; it feels heavy and magnetized, like it has its own miniature gravity shield.
Vi hears a loud clang, as Powder stands guiltily over an expensive looking box broken in two on the floor.
“At least try not to break the merchandise, Pow Pow,” Mylo mocks her.
Vi becomes aware of the front door. She stares out its dark tinted glass, watches as some shadowed figure approaches. The crash must’ve alerted whoever was there.
Vi motions for silence with very obnoxious shushing, and signals Claggor to block the door.
A muffled ‘hello?’ greets Claggor on the other side. Clag clicks the lock mechanism on as if the flimsy deadbolt was their first line of defense, then leans his weight against the door. As Mylo and Powder start scurrying around Vi distantly thinks about how confident these Pilties are that they don’t even lock their front door.
The person on the other side begins to work the handle in earnest.
“We don’t have a lot of time, Vi!” Claggor whisper-yells.
Vi pockets the last of the metal bits and pieces that look important before signaling Mylo and Powder to climb back out the window.
The muffled voice finally shouts, “I know you’re in there! I’m with the law!”
The door shakes in its frame as ‘the law’ throws itself against the door. Vi now knows it’s a some topside man, probably young, definitely an idiot. She keeps her mind on what’s important, savoring the thrilling fear of getting caught, maybe even being chased, before remembering Powder was with them.
“Claggor, let’s go!”
At Vi’s command, Claggor pushes off from the door at a sprint across the room. As Claggor makes the leap over Vi grabs that shard of crystal at the last moment. The door finally slams open as she’s midair to the roof.
Through the busted door a boy a little younger than Mylo with dark hair and golden eyes stares at them, his shoulders heaving. Behind the kid is someone Vi only gets a glimpse of; dark blue eyes lock on her face.
The force of the door hitting the wall causes some tucked away encasement to fall to the ground from its shelf. More of those crystals, so piercingly blue that Vi can see them rolling around from 15 feet away. They lightly bump against each other with little tendrils of electricity, and she feels the hairs on her arm stand up.
“Let’s fucking move, people!” Vi yells.
All at once, the entire balcony explodes.