Chapter 13
The explosion shook the very foundations of Piltover’s city center. Glass shattered from nearby windows, raining down on screaming civilians as a plume of smoke and fire erupted from a nearby storefront.
Finn stood near the wreckage of his crashed truck, his expression disturbingly calm, a wicked grin cutting across his face.
Vi shot a web, sticking him to the semi-truck, his head hit hard on its metal. “What the hell is this, Finn?” she snarled, her fists clenched.
“Why so upset, Spidey? It’s just the beginning.” Finn replied, his voice dripping with mockery.
The enforcers surrounding her stopped their movements, each one’s comm buzzing. Above the screams of the people around her, Vi heard the dispatcher’s panicked voice crackling, “Reports of explosions in the council building! Suspects armed and dangerous! Civilians injured—multiple casualties reported!”
“God-fucking-damn it!”
“What’s wrong, Spider-Man? Spandex in a twist?” Finn taunted. “I’d love to stay and chat, but-” Vi shoved him against the metal box of the semi-truck, knocking him out instantly. A vial fell from his hand.
“More?” Vi examined the vial of shimmer and tucked it into her pocket, distant screams of civilians tore her focus. “The council.” Vi’s eyes widened, firing a web to a nearby building, she launched herself into the air. Swinging through the streets, she saw the council building—smoke billowing from its upper floors.
“How could I be so stupid?” Vi cursed herself. She remembered the council was having a meeting today but didn’t think much of it. She should’ve known…it’s been too quiet. There had been nothing from Spector or his servants for weeks. And, of course, this happened on a day that was finally going her way. Caitlyn. “Caitlyn.” Vi’s eyes widened. She had left the girl in danger, she could’ve been hit by falling debris or the wreckage of cars Finn caused. Vi sacrificed one life in order to save several, but was it worth it? The councilors hated her—wanted her dead and buried—but Caitlyn… she cared for Vi, and Vi left her. Who decides whose life is more valuable than another?
Landing on the council building’s steps, Vi found the massive double doors blown off their hinges, splinters of wood scattered across the marble entryway. Inside, the once-grand hall was in disarray. Cracked columns supported sagging balconies, and shattered glass littered the floor. The faint hum of shimmer-powered machinery echoed ominously through the space.
The sound of heavy boots on marble drew her attention, and she turned just in time to see a group of masked henchmen emerging from a side corridor. They carried weapons that glowed faintly with the telltale shimmer hue, without a word, they opened fire.
Vi ducked behind a toppled statue as bullets ricocheted off the stone. "Great," she muttered, "nothing like a warm welcome." She shot a web at the nearest henchman, yanking his weapon out of his hands before leaping forward and knocking him to the ground. The others hesitated, their surprise giving her the opening she needed to web their feet to the ground and disarm them one by one.
As the last henchman hit the ground unconscious, Vi paused to catch her breath. "Is this Spector’s idea of a greeting committee?" she muttered, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on a stairwell leading to the upper floors.
She darted toward the stairs, jumping over debris and past smoldering fires—her adrenaline shutting out the pain her wound was causing. The walls were lined with scorch marks, and the faint smell of shimmer lingered in the air.
Vi’s heart sank as she pushed past the destroyed security checkpoint and entered the council chamber. The grand room was in shambles—its high ceilings cracked and splintered, and the ornate windows shattered, letting in streams of smoke and ash. Among the debris, the councilors lay scattered. Some were unconscious, their bodies sprawled across the floor, while others were deathly still, their fates unmistakable.
Her breath hitched as her eyes scanned the scene, searching frantically for Caitlyn’s mother, Councilor Kiramman. Finally, she spotted her near the far end of the room, pinned beneath a collapsed section of a marble column. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, a thin line of blood trickling down her temple, but she was alive.
Vi darted forward, carefully weaving through the wreckage. A low groan caught her attention, and she stopped to help an older councilor propped against a broken chair. His face was pale, his breathing labored. “Can you move?” she asked, her voice urgent but steady.
He shook his head weakly. “Get... the others,” he rasped. “Leave me.”
“You don’t get the easy way out of this,” Vi shot back, already pulling him up and webbing a support beam to create a makeshift sling for him. “Hold tight.”
Another explosion rocked the building, this time closer. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the already fragile structure groaned ominously.
She reached Kiramman next, kneeling by her side. “Councilor, can you hear me?” she asked, gently lifting the rubble. Kiramman’s eyes fluttered open, dazed but focused enough to register Vi’s presence.
“You... again,” she muttered weakly, her voice struggled to hold a tone of disdain, but the unmistakable relief in her eyes betrayed the act.
“Yeah, it’s me. Try not to hold it against me,” Vi quipped, though her tone was strained. She heaved the last chunk of marble away, freeing Kiramman’s legs. “Can you stand?”
Kiramman grimaced, but with Vi’s help, she managed to get to her feet. “The others...” she started, but Vi cut her off.
“I’ve got it. Just hold on to me,” Vi said, webbing a piece of debris into a crude brace for Kiramman’s leg. She quickly assessed the room—three more councilors were still alive but unconscious, scattered amidst the wreckage.
The ground beneath them shuddered violently, and the distant sound of crumbling stone echoed through the halls.
One by one, she moved quickly, securing each unconscious councilor with webbing and creating a sling that allowed her to carry them all at once.
“Hold on!” Vi shouted as she shot a web toward the gaping hole in the chamber wall. Vi swung out into the open air, the makeshift sling of councilors swaying precariously beneath her. Behind her, the building groaned one final time before collapsing in on itself, a massive plume of dust and debris rising into the sky.
Vi landed on a nearby rooftop, carefully setting the councilors down before collapsing to her knees, gasping for air. Sirens blared in the distance as emergency responders closed in on the scene. She glanced back at the rubble that had been the council building, her chest tight with a mix of relief and guilt. She’d saved who she could, but the weight of those she couldn’t would haunt her.
Who decides whose life is more valuable than another?
Vi ran through the streets of Piltover, weaving past chunks of debris that littered the ground and dodging panicked civilians who cried out for help. The acrid smell of smoke filled her lungs, but she didn’t stop—not even for a second. Her eyes darted through the chaos, scanning for any glimpse of dark hair or a familiar face in the sea of terrified people. She had only one focus in mind, and nothing—not the destruction, not the screams—was going to stop her.
Another ambulance pulled up onto the crowded street, its blaring siren cutting through the chaos. Paramedics jumped out and immediately began lifting one of the injured councilors into the back of their vehicle. Vi hesitated for a split second, her chest tightening as she watched them work. She didn’t recognize the person on the stretcher, but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Caitlyn.
“That Spider-Man… she saved them.” Vi heard an enforcer say to another. “I don’t know how, but she did it.”
The other one scoffed. “Yeah, but she’s not a fuckin’ hero. If she were, none of them would be dead. Instead, we got two dead councilors and three severely injured ones.”
“If she weren’t there, we’d have seven dead councilors.”
“How many times have I told you not to correct me?”
Vi couldn’t help but chuckle at the enforcers' conversation. Maybe, someday, law enforcement wouldn’t be at her throat.
She pressed on, shoving past a throng of onlookers who had gathered near the crumbling building. Every passing second felt like an eternity, and the rising panic clawing at her chest threatened to break through her determined façade. Her hands curled into fists as she skidded to a halt, her gaze darting toward an overturned cart. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she saw a glimpse of Caitlyn’s coat. But when she reached it, it was nothing—just the discarded fabric of a fleeing merchant.
"Where are you?" Vi muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the chaos. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she picked up her pace, dodging falling rubble and ignoring the ache in her wound. Each step was fueled by a single, burning question that repeated over and over in her mind: Was she okay?
As Vi rounded another corner, her breath caught. The ground in front of her was scattered with people—some sitting in shock, others lying unconscious, and a few... still. She tore her gaze away, her stomach churning, and scanned the faces one by one. Still, there was no sign of Caitlyn.
“Hey! Have you seen a girl, about this tall, dark hair, blue coat?” she called to a medic frantically bandaging someone’s arm. The man shook his head, his expression apologetic but hurried. Frustration bubbled to the surface, but Vi shoved it down. She didn’t have time to waste being angry.
She pressed forward, her desperation growing. With every corner she turned and every face she passed, the thought she was trying to bury crept closer to the surface. What if she didn’t make it?
Vi vaulted over a toppled streetlamp, ignoring the ache from her ribs, and scanned the throng of panicked citizens pouring out of the area. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, but none of them belonged to Caitlyn. The knot in her stomach tightened, and her chest burned with frustration.
“Caitlyn!” Vi shouted, her voice hoarse from the smoke and exhaustion. It was a futile effort—her voice drowned in the chaos—but she had to try. She turned down another street, her boots skidding on loose gravel.
Then, she saw her—just a flash of blue in the corner of her vision, but it was enough to send her heart racing. Vi pushed through the crowd, nearly shoving an enforcer out of the way. There she was, sitting on a stretch of pavement near the barricade, her head resting on her knees, her dark hair falling messily over her face. A medic crouched beside her, tending to a shallow cut on her forehead.
“Caitlyn!” Vi called, her voice breaking as she sprinted forward. Caitlyn looked up at the sound, her eyes widening slightly. Relief flooded Vi’s chest, nearly buckling her knees. She was alive.
As Vi knelt in front of her, Caitlyn opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, her expression shifted—an attempt at composure, but the flicker of relief in her eyes betrayed her.
Vi let out a shaky breath, her voice soft but firm. “I’m so sorry.” Her hands hovered for a moment, unsure if she should reach for Caitlyn, before she settled on gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I never should’ve run. What if I left you and-and you died? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“I’m fine,” Caitlyn said, her voice barely steady, but her trembling hands told a different story.
Vi’s jaw tightened, her voice low but fierce. “No, you’re not. And that’s okay. It’ll be okay. I prom- AH!” Vi looked down at her wound, blood seeping out quicker than she could stop it. Her adrenaline had finally run out, replaced by a piercing sensation that ran through her whole body. Vi threw her head back, biting back curses that threatened to spew from her mouth.
“Kid, that looks really bad. I’m calling over an ambulance now.” One of the medics rushed to Vi, helping her compress the wound.
“No!” Vi tried to get up, leaning on the man for support. “I can’t afford it.”
A situation flashed through her head: Babette hunched over the kitchen counter, looking at all the overdue bills—one envelope standing out EVICTED. Babette sighed as she looked over Vi’s hospital bills.
“I don’t know what we’re gonna do.” Babette sighed. “I can’t afford all this. If only you hadn’t gotten hurt. If only you had just watched Powder. If only you were a good older sister. If only you weren’t Spider-Man.”
YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU.
“It’s all your fault.”
It’s all my fault.
“It’s okay. I can take her home.” Vi heard a soft voice, bringing her out of the nightmare.
“Are you sure? She has a major injury. Possibly fatal.”
“I am quite sure. She will be well looked after in my care.” Vi didn’t hear the medic respond and assumed he went to help someone else.
Her vision finally cleared, the blurriness giving way to the familiar sight of Caitlyn’s determined face, framed by her dark, disheveled hair. Caitlyn’s hand was firm but careful as she helped Vi to her feet, her touch steadying. For a moment, Vi could only stare.
Caitlyn glanced at her, her brows furrowed in concern. “Can you walk?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.
Vi nodded, even though her legs felt like jelly beneath her. “Yeah,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “I’ve got it.”
Caitlyn didn’t wait for further confirmation. She slipped her arm around Vi’s waist, offering subtle support as they began moving down the rubble-strewn street. The sharp smell of smoke and the distant wail of sirens surrounded them, but Caitlyn remained focused, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger.
Vi forced herself to match Caitlyn’s pace, each step steadier than the last. “Who woulda thought? A Kiramman saving a Zaunite. My hero,” she said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the ache in her ribs.
Caitlyn’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but her focus didn’t waver. “Oh, hush, before I give you a reason to complain,” she replied, her tone dry but laced with undeniable relief. “Right now, we need to get out of here before this whole place comes down.”
Vi glanced at the wreckage behind them, her stomach twisting at the sight of the crumbled council building in the distance.
“You got it?” They walked up the final steps to the Kiramman estate. Carefully, Caitlyn leaned Vi against the wall and entered the code at the front door.
“You don’t have to worry about me, cupcake. I’ve been through worse.” Vi chuckled as Caitlyn helped her walk into the house.
“I certainly hope not.” Caitlyn retorted. “And yes, I am worried about you. You have left a trail of blood, and you can’t even walk without my assistance.”
“I could if I really wanted to.” A faint smirk tugged on her lips. “So, are we going to your room?” Vi glanced around the large room, her eyes drifting over the ornate furnishings. Family portraits hung from the walls, their gilded frames glinting softly in the light of a chandelier almost too grand for the space.
“I-you-” Caitlyn flustered at Vi’s sly comment before scowling at the girl. “You can hardly walk. What makes you think you can climb a flight of stairs?”
“With the right motivation, you can do anything.”
Caitlyn scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. No, we are not going to my bedroom. I’m taking you to the library.”
“The library? Lead the way, princess.”
When they reached the library, Caitlyn pushed open the heavy oak door to reveal a cozy, warmly lit room. Shelves of books lined every wall, their spines neatly arranged and glinting in the soft glow of the lamps. A large leather couch sat in the center of the room, flanked by a low coffee table and a plush armchair.
“Sit,” Caitlyn instructed, guiding Vi to the couch. Vi grumbled under her breath but did as she was told, sinking into the soft leather with a tired sigh. Caitlyn disappeared for a moment, returning quickly with a sleek metal first-aid kit in her hands.
“Really, you don’t have to fuss over me. It’s just a scratch,” Vi said, though her tone lacked conviction as Caitlyn knelt in front of her, opening the kit with practiced efficiency.
“Vi.” Caitlyn scolded, glaring at her.
“Fine, fine, fine. Do what you gotta do.” With a resigned sigh, Vi leaned back, resting her head on the soft pillows.
“Good. Take off your shirt.”
“Wow, Kiramman. Don’t you think we’re going a bit fast? I haven’t even taken you out on a date yet.”
Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, the blush on her face giving away her frustration.
“Clearly, you like a challenge.” Vi joked, but the glare Caitlyn shot her shut that down. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Wincing, Vi gingerly pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the coffee table.
The wound was worse than Caitlyn had expected. A jagged gash along Vi’s ribs, surrounded by puffy red skin, was oozing blood where the stitches had torn open. Caitlyn’s heart sank at the sight, but she masked her concern with resolve. She grabbed antiseptic and fresh bandages from the kit, glancing up at Vi’s calm expression.
“This is going to hurt,” Caitlyn warned as she poured antiseptic onto a clean cloth.
Vi gritted her teeth, bracing herself. “Lay it on me,” she muttered, though her sharp intake of breath betrayed her when the cloth touched her skin.
Caitlyn worked in silence for a moment, carefully cleaning the wound. “You’re lucky it didn’t get infected,” Caitlyn said, breaking the silence. “What were you even thinking, tearing the stitches like that?”
Vi gave a small shrug, wincing again. “Powder called. Said something about an emergency.”
Caitlyn paused, her hands hovering over the wound. She looked up at Vi, her brow furrowed. “You could’ve seriously hurt yourself. More than you already were,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with frustration and something softer—almost pleading.
Vi met her gaze. “I couldn’t let something happen to her,” she said, her voice low but firm. “I know it was stupid or wreckless running into something like that, but I can’t risk losing someone. Not again.”
Caitlyn’s hands tightened on the bandage she was holding, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on carefully applying fresh stitches, her fingers moving with precision despite the tension in her shoulders. Vi hissed through her teeth but stayed still, her fists clenched at her sides.
When Caitlyn finished, she gently wrapped a clean bandage over the wound and secured it. “There,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “As long as you don’t run off toward bombs, you should be fine.”
“Toward bombs?” Vi interjected with a grin, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why would I do that?”
Caitlyn sighed, standing and crossing her arms. “Mhm.”
Vi leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I mean it. I was a little skeptical at first, but you did a pretty decent job.”
Caitlyn’s expression softened, though she tried to hide it. “Just... try not to make me patch you up again anytime soon,” she said, her tone light but tinged with genuine concern. “And I did an excellent job.”
Vi smirked, tilting her head back to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. “Sure, cupcake. You did an excellent job.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t look away, the corners of her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment, pulling them out of their shared silence. Caitlyn shook her head with a soft, playful smirk before turning toward the door. “Who is it?”
“Ms. Kiramman, is that you? I have news regarding your mother. Can I come in?”
“So you do have a butler.” Vi teased, watching as Caitlyn faced her again, glaring.
“Oh, hush. And he’s not a butler. He’s Frank.” She looked back at the door. “Come in, Frank.”
The door creaked open, almost as if the man was scared to enter. Peaking his head through, Frank noticed Caitlyn standing by the fire—paying no mind to Vi—he rushed in, beads of sweat falling from his forehead.
“Frank…” she said, her voice steady but tinged with worry as she looked up at the man on the other side. Her gaze searched his face, noting the tension in his jaw and the unease in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“There,” Frank took a deep breath. “was an accident—a bombing—of the…councils building.”
Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her expression freezing as Frank’s words sank in. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her brain refusing to process what she’d just heard. “The council building…” she repeated softly, almost in disbelief, her voice trembling slightly. Her hands clenched at her sides, her knuckles white. “My mother…” Her wide eyes locked onto Frank. “Is she okay? What happened? Was—” She stopped herself, her breath catching.
Frank hesitated, his face grim, and Caitlyn’s heart sank further. “She’s alive but in fatal condition. A pillar collapsed on her, and she was lodged under for nearly thirty minutes before being rescued.”
Caitlyn’s knees felt weak, but she forced herself to stand tall. Swallowing hard, she thought for a moment. Her gaze flicked briefly to Vi, who had gone completely still on the couch, watching Caitlyn’s every movement. She looked back at Frank, “Is she at my father’s hospital?”
“Yes, Ms. Kiramman. Would you like me to pull the car out?”
Her eyes darted toward Vi, who smiled softly. “Go, go see your mom. I can get home myself.”
“Are you sure?” Caitlyn looked between Vi’s dirt-covered face and the wound she had just wrapped. “I can wait-”
“Cait,” Vi stood from the couch, grasping Caitlyn’s soft hand in her calloused one. “don’t let me stop you. See your mom. Make sure she’s okay.”
Caitlyn hesitated, “Okay…” She nodded at Frank, who walked out of the room. “Promise me you’ll be okay—that you won’t get into trouble.”
Vi chuckled, “I promise.”
A slight smile appeared on Caitlyn’s face. “Good. I don’t want to redo your stitching.” Her eyes lingered on their intertwined hands, reluctant to let go, but with a quiet breath, she gently slipped out of Vi’s comforting grasp and slowly walked toward the door. As Caitlyn reopened the door, she paused, looking back at Vi. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the space between them felt impossibly vast, filled with everything neither of them could say. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll see you later.”
Vi opened the apartment door, checking to see if anyone was waiting for her. When she saw no one in the living room or kitchen, she let out a sigh of relief and dropped her bag on the ground.
“Violet, is that you?”
Vi closed her eyes, wishing she had just snuck through the window. Now, she has to deal with one of Babette’s speeches. “Yes, Babette.”
From behind the kitchen counter, the small woman came out, her weary gaze on Vi. “Oh, thank heavens, you’re alright.” She ran towards her, pulling her into a hug.
With wide eyes, Vi tried to process what had just happened. She wasn’t yelling, scolding, or glaring at her. Instead, Babette was grasping onto her like her life depended on it. Slowly, Vi bent down and wrapped her arms around the woman. “You’re not…mad?”
“How could I be mad? I thought I lost you.”
“Lost me?” Vi leaned back slightly, her brows furrowed as she met Babette’s tear-filled gaze. “What do you mean?”
“The attack on the council’s tower was right by the school, and with you being gone so late… I just thought the worst.”
“Babette, I’m so sorry,” Vi said, her voice low, regret evident as she reached out. “I should’ve called or texted–”
“No,” Babette interrupted, shaking her head firmly, her voice trembling but resolute. “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.”
“What’s all the fuss about?” Jinx yawned, rubbing her eyes—Mylo and Claggor behind her, doing the same. “Babette, if you wanna watch your adult shows, do it more–Vi?” Shaking her head, she focused on who Babette had wrapped in her arms. “Vi!” Jinx grinned, jumping over the couch and leaping onto her sister. “You’re alive!”
“Did everyone think I died?” Vi chuckled, catching Jinx and steadying herself.
“Dude, did you not see the news?” Mylo scoffed, attempting to appear nonchalant, but the worry etched on his face betrayed him. The dark rings under his red-rimmed eyes revealed just how much it had taken out of him.
“Dude, I was kinda living it.” Vi mocked her brother as she pulled him and Claggor into the hug.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Claggor mumbled, his arms wrapping around the other three in a tight hold. “And it looks like you’re…” He noticed Vi’s grimace, Jinx’s calf pressing into her wound. “minimally injured?”
“Yeah, minimally,” Vi rasped, her voice rough but still managing a faint smile. “Oh, Pow, I almost forgot.” Gently setting Powder back on the ground, she reached for her bag. “I got something for you.”
“Really!?” Powder gasped, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she bounced on her toes, eagerly awaiting whatever Vi was pulling out.
“Since I couldn’t apologize earlier, I thought this might make you feel better.” Vi held up a small bag with Velvet Cup’s familiar logo, handing it to Powder. “I know it’s not much, but I figured you’d like it.”
“Is that…” Powder froze, her hands clutching the bag as if it held a treasure beyond value. Her voice rose in pure delight. “A SPRINKLES CELEBRATION CAKE POP FROM VELVET CUP?!” She tore into the bag, pulling out the colorful treat covered in white frosting and an explosion of sprinkles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed, flinging herself at Vi in a bone-crushing hug.
“Pow,” Vi wheezed, struggling against the vice grip of her little sister’s arms. “I have to breathe.” She attempted to push Powder off, but the girl’s excitement made her grip ironclad.
Finally, Powder released her, and Vi inhaled deeply, trying to recover. Powder held up the cake pop, inspecting it with the reverence of a rare artifact. “I’ll forgive you… but only this once,” she declared, pointing a mock-threatening finger at Vi before shoving the entire cake pop into her mouth in one go.