Conversations of an urgent nature
THE LAST DROP: SECOND SHIFT: 11 BELLS
Steve carried out the clean tankards from the steam shack, placing the tray on the bar top and began putting away the metal mugs under the counter as the morning crowd trickled into the Last Drop. To his surprise Claggor and Vi had already stowed the liquor earlier and did most of the prep before leaving this morning on whatever the three of them had cooked up. Vi told him they ‘had some shit to take care of’ and they would stay out of trouble, especially after last night’s chat and wouldn’t be back till late. He was essentially running the tavern on his own, as Vander had some business to do with Benzo and a couple others he didn’t know.
Assessing the damage to the Black Lanes…
A lot had been covered, a lot of things came to light that were being kept quiet and Steve was pretty sure he understood why now. Steve let them in on the general opinion that the denizens of the Sumps had about them. That the hound had lost his teeth and abandoned them. Turned out it wasn’t the case, not entirely.
Vander, as the Hound, took in a percentage of the profits from the Black Lanes which he admitted made a decent amount of cogs. It had been something that He and Benzo had started when they were much younger, and it still went on to this day. He also admitted that they do not keep it, the profits went to paying to keep the Black Lanes protected and the rest went towards the various clinics and those who need a hand up.
Anonymously of course.
Benzo slipped up and said there were three who founded the Black Lanes, but that would be a question for later. He mentioned that a number of his people that he had look after the black market were killed during the attack, probably after He got thrown into a wall…
When he spoke to Peggy…
It wasn’t long after the kids went down to relay Vanders message of a meeting that Mylo came up, seeing it as an opportunity to skip out of tankard washing and bussing. He lounged across the storage chest, feet kicked up like it was his office. The soldier had to admit, it was the boy’s go-to relax pose.
Sevika was next to arrive, giving Steve the once over and announced he looked like shit. He probably did, after fighting with three shimmer monsters. Vander had her just take up some wall space and wait for the rest to come up saying he didn’t want to pass on information twice. She wasn’t happy, and groused that she was taken out of her tarot game to wait for a bunch of punks. Mylo, ever the one to poke the bear did so. To her credit, Sevika didn’t pound him to the ground but just gave him a look and a smirk. Steve had to admit, it worked. Mylo withered at the look and kept quiet.
Eventually, everyone arrived and was taken aback by the sheer number in the office where everyone took a spot somewhere. Powder and Ekko sat together near Vi, plopping their butts in front of her.
Vander told of his meeting with Renata Glasc, and how she had purchased both pharmaceutical manufacturing plants in the Promenade but didn’t know to what end. He also brought up that working for the Zaunite Industrialist may not be the best idea, especially as the Slickjaw gang was involved with her. He looked directly at Vi when he said that, and she flinched. There was more to that story to be told. Vander finished saying he wasn’t sure where Glasc stood, as she kept on foot in the Undercity and the other firmly in Piltover. Sevika scoffed at that, eventually the industrialist would have to pick a side.
Steve then shared his tale of the Shimmer beast and the Magicians, and that the woman who they had tried to help had been one of them. Claggor was gutted to hear that she was dead and expected to have another conversation with the boy in the days to come. He kept out the part about his hallucination of speaking to Peggy.
“How many fingers am I holding up…” Powder’s voice shook him out of reminiscing about the prior evening. He looked over at the girl, sitting on the end barstool holding two fingers up.
“Two?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. What was she doing up at this hour? She was there the entire meeting, and that went pretty late. Her big blue eyes bore into him, unconvinced on his answer.
“That sounded like a question.” She said and shook her hands and threw up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Six if I count the two of you...” He said, leaning on the bar top. That earned him a full scowl.
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Three...” Steve said. “Sorry…” She was taking this seriously. “What are you doing up, anyway. I’d expected you to still be down for the count.” She had dark circles around her eyes, almost like she’d been awake for days. He’d seen the look on too many during the war, either they were afraid of what was coming for them or haunted by what they’d already done.
She rested her head on her palm, apparently accepting his answer of health and fitness to serve drinks. “Allright, I GUESS you’re ok..” she huffed, and shook her head like she was trying to shake a thought out of it. “I woke up earlier, and I figured you’d be up too and the big kids are gone, so...” she ended with a shrug.
Nodding, Steve reached under the counter and pulled up her personal cup, and fetched fruit juice from the cold box and filled it, sliding it towards her. She quirked a smile and took a pull from her straw. “Look, if you're worried about me you don’t need to be…” He said, leaning on his elbows, and watched as her face twitched. “I appreciate it though, it’s nice having someone looking out for me.” Powder nodded and took another sip of the juice.
“Someone has to look out for you, since you won’t look out for yourself.”
Steve mocked indignance. “I look out for myself!” He said, his face aghast and huffed out in frustration. “Ok, maybe I don’t as well as I should.” He could see his attempt as humor had fallen flat. He could tell from last night’s late-night meeting that Powder and Ekko were upset by the attack in the Black Lanes, and she glared at him all night. He should have reached out to her last night, but by the time the assembly was over, the youngest of them were passing out. He sighed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys earlier, by the time I got back from the Sumps it was too late.”
“…And you had to talk to Vander, I know…” She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “Why were you so late getting back?”
“I was helping with the…” He stopped himself as he saw her flinch, something was playing inside her head that was painful to relive. Steve wished he could help her. Maybe be could, if she let him.
“The bodies..” She said, practically whispering. He nodded. “It didn’t feel right to just leave them in the street like that.” He said. Powder nodded, her eyes still closed rested her head on her folded arms hiding her face. Steve noticed that a couple more patrons entered the bar, and after serving them returned to the end of the bar where the girl sat. He refilled her cup.
“You ok?” Steve asked, leaning across from her.
“I have to share you…” Powder said, muffled by her hidden face. Steve frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re mine and Ekko’s hero…” She said. “We asked for you, and you appeared in a giant ice ball.” She showed her face, her eyes were puffy. “But now…” she wiped her nose. “Now, the Undercity needs you, and I can’t be selfish…” She hid her head again. “I want to be selfish, but Ekko’s right...”
Steve nodded, and put a hand on her elbow. “I’m not going anywhere, Powder. I…”
“You can’t promise that!” She sat up abruptly, slapping the bar top. “I’ve seen monsters and mages and they blew up the arcade and Now I SEE THEM every NIGHT!” Powder exclaimed wiping her face. “I hate it!” Her face broke his heart. He didn’t know what to do for her.
Or did he? She didn’t want reassurances, she wanted truths.
“You’re right, I can’t promise that. I wouldn’t even try, you’re too smart to fall for it.” He said. Steve motioned around him. “The Undercity is my home now, and someone is threatening it’s most vulnerable.” He sighed. “There are people who are using the Sumps as their own testing and playgrounds. Magic users are practicing on the people down there. They’ve been ignored too long.”
“I used to live there, but I don’t remember much…” Powder said, leaning on her elbow. “I remember Vi giving me her food when there wasn’t enough, and our parents arguing.” Steve handed her a towel for her nose. “I remember playing in the rafters of our house, hide and seek with Vi and our mom.” She ended with a shrug. “I know NOW it was bad, so bad that my parents went to the bridge following Vander and the protest.”
Steve listened, she never talked about it which made sense. From the sounds of things, she was a little girl when it occurred.
“All I really remember was singing on the bridge, and Vi crying. I wanted to make her feel better.” She flinched again. “After Vander brought us here, I asked Vi why we couldn’t just go home, that Mom and Dad would be worried, and start arguing again…” She closed her eyes. “Vander had to come in and calm her down, and she just started hitting him. She even made his nose bleed, and he just took it. Violet was so angry, and I was a crybaby…” she looked back into her juice and shrugged. “I still am.”
“Don’t ever feel bad for crying.” Steve said. “Some time’s you just have to cry. I’ve seen hardened soldiers burst into tears at the taste of stew, or something that reminded them of home.” He wiped the counter near her. “I broke down when my friend died.”
“You’re friend Bucky?” She looked up. He nodded and noticed another patron. He held up his finger to her, a “hold that thought” and poured a breakfast ale. Liquid bread!
Steve came back, and Powder had finished her juice. She nodded when he pointed at her cup.
“Can I confide in you?”
Powder’s eyes widened and glanced around before she nodded. He leaned closer.
“I think I had a hallucination…” Steve said. “I thought I heard Peggy’s voice, saying she was trying to find me.” She suddenly whipped up four fingers, one of her eyebrows raised. He chuckled and said “Four.”
“Go on.” Putting the fingers away. “Have you ever had them before?”
He shook his head. “I never been to or heard of the place she said was at. Some place in Nepal. That’s why I thought maybe it wasn’t a hallucination from the hit.” Steve said, standing up. “The other voice was someone called the Ancient One.” He smirked “If I was going to make up a name, it wouldn’t be that.”
Powder laughed at that. “It sounds like what horny trenchers call Babette.”
“Language…” he retorted, which didn’t stop her giggles. It just elicited more. Steve shook his head, the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin. “Sounds like the Ancient One was some kind of mystic, and before I came here, I’d never had thought it was possible.”
“Can they take you away” Powder snapped up, eyes wide. Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like it, they were just able to watch. Peggy seemed surprised that I answered back.” He said. “I had to tell someone I trust, who I knew was covering my six so can we keep it between us?”
“I’m the only one you told?” She looked up to him, a smile crossing her face. He nodded.
Powder hugged him…
PILTOVER: ACADEMY DISTRICT: THIRD SHIFT: 20 BELLS
The walk from the University to his bungalow was one of the therapeutic activities that Viktor looked forward to at the end of his day, regardless of what time that may be. He didn’t rush, he knew better than to do that of course, and allowed his mind to wander as he enjoyed the night air, the cool breeze of the ocean pushing out the heat of the day still radiating from the pavement. It was a guilty pleasure, to be sure, but it was his time, not Heimerdinger's or his whims. His walk home always helped percolate ideas of tinkering, which he would jot down on paper as soon as he stepped into his home and put on the kettle.
Tonight's thoughts lent to whimsy as he imagined golems that would continuously clean the deep sumps, safely removing the toxic wastes and lessening the toxins that poisoned the undercity. If a golem could keep just one child from getting sick, it was worth the imagination he put into it. He would sit at his table with his favorite mug of Kumungu Tea and sketch a layout, enjoying the freedom of creation.
Of course, Golems were not as practical as air filters that would clean the toxins as they emanated from the Sumps, or the water purification stations which was his personal passion, but sometimes you just want to play make believe.
Perhaps he’d make a sandwich from his icebox before he sat down to his task, he had some cheese and some hard cured sausage for just such an occasion. He thought about slicing the bread thick, and enjoying the sponginess of the rye and caraway, with the mustard he found at the deli during his last visit. Maybe he’d eat while figuring out the gearworks or plotting out the program rods. Maybe he’d stop by Juno’s instead and pick up a bowl of noodles and sit and watch the ships make their way through the Sun gate and the Bridge of Progress, just to enjoy the cool night air.
Things he could not do in the Undercity.
Or perhaps he would just go to bed and pretend this week hadn’t happened. It had not been a dreadful day, in any case, but it had an accumulation of days that gelled into a hectic week. Viktor took over several of the Professor’s classes throughout the week, leading several new students in coursework readying them for the next semester which included one sit in from the Demacian noble girl named Luxanna. He had followed Heimerdinger as the Yordle conducted the tour of the Academy with Luxanna Crownguard earlier in the week, flanked by her brother, professor Odinson and a small cadre of Kiramman security forces. The girl was mortified, even though she showed no signs of it outwardly. She was charming, engaging in conversations with students and workers alike as if they were the only people in the world. Unlike everyone else, her brother was nonplussed by this, even amused.
There were mannerisms that she tried to hide under a veil of positivity that belayed her true emotions, which Viktor picked up on. Call it survival instinct from his childhood in the Entresol, but when you were a weak boy and a cripple, you learned to read people quickly to know if you were about to be beaten, or worse. More times than he could count it helped him escape from Trenchers by knowing when to turn down a street or hide behind steam pipes. He hid a lot...
His attention was diverted to the point on the wall, which someone had painted some graffiti. That alone was alien to the pristine structures of Piltover, but the subject matter was what he found interesting. A round shield painted red and white with a star in the center, and the words Janna’s Grace scrawled underneath. It looked like it had been quickly done, more of a tag than an actual painting, which to be honest was an art in and of itself. A tagger may only have a few seconds to get their idea across before they risk discovery and a mad chase, and this was done with practiced ease. He could respect it. Maybe not condone it, as it would make things difficult for any Zaunite who works Upside for the next few days as enforcers would question any trencher who might have shown their face at night.
He himself would be questioned. Maybe not a suspect but asked if he knew who did it. It wouldn’t be once, but several times. It would get old quick. He had heard some of the groundkeepers speaking of the shield appearing when it's most needed, which was poppycock of course, but it had captured the imaginations of young Zaunites. Young Zaunites needed their imaginations, otherwise they became bitter and dull.
Eh, hard sausage and cheese sandwich it would be for tonight then. No reason to tempt fate, especially so close to his bungalow.
Viktor knew instantly something was amiss...
A small piece of paper lay on the stoop, near the hinges of his front door. It was a practice his mother had done for years when he was a child before she got sick and was still able to work. Put the paper low enough below the lowest hinge so that it would just drop out onto the ground, unnoticed by whoever was making entry. Most would miss it as just the flotsam of an un-swept porch. Even most trenchers would put the paper on the knob side, where they could set the trap on their way out, and easily see if it was tripped. The hinge side tended to be ignored, especially by Pilties and mostly by Zuanites.
He stepped up onto the small porch of his one-bedroom bungalow, and listened at the door, careful not to make too much noise with his cane and avoided the peep hole. Even the smallest amount of light being broken from his shadow might tip off whoever entered his home.
"Vi, how much longer are we going to wait for this guy?” a high register voice asked, decidedly male, but young. Maybe in their mid-teens. He sounded agitated and didn’t want to be there. Quite a coincidence as Viktor didn’t want him here either.
“Shut it, Mylo.” A girl's voice rang out. It wasn’t a kind voice, but a commanding one. This one was the leader. “We have to make a good impression.”
By breaking into the person's bungalow that you wanted to impress. Seems odd, and not well thought out. Again, teenagers.
“So, we break into his house, rather than waiting outside. We didn’t have to break in, we could have waited. It’s a nice night.” A third voice. This one deeper, but still with the timber of youth. He wasn’t in charge, but he was the voice of reason.
“Enforcers are all over the university district, and we don’t have passes. We need to state our case to this Viktor and get back before we get blamed for the graffiti.” the girl again. They wanted something from him that wasn’t money.
“I’m just saying, Vander or Steve would have done this differently...” The husky voiced boy said. “Maybe even made contact by Pnumo?”
The Pnumo network, the boy had a good head on his shoulders. He wasn’t impulsive. He was thought out, measured. He looked before he leaped. He mentioned Vander, the Hound. Were they connected to him in some way?
“Yeah, Clagg, but you know what? His lock was fun to pick!” The higher timber voice said, excited. “I don’t get to pick Pilty locks all that often, it was awesome!”
“Guys!” the girl said, sharply. “Let not spook him. Let's greet him in his home like old friends, right?” her voice was softer now for the last sentence, like she was smiling.
The older boy came in. “Right, like we didn’t break in...”
“CLAGGOR!”
“I'll put the kettle on... “he said finally. So, they weren’t here to hurt him, but to woo him, for what? Well, they were kind children, he thought as he stepped away from the door. He had a discission to make now. Call the enforcers and have them arrested or see how this all played out. No, he couldn’t call enforcers on a group of teenagers, which would be a death sentence. They’d run, the enforcers would shoot and then three bodies would be on his conscious, and he had worked hard to keep his conscious clear...
He carefully walked off the porch and made his way around the back of the bungalow, to the back door which was still locked. He fished around his pockets for his keys, and unlocked the door in the loudest jangling he could muster. Viktor wanted to alert them to his presence, to give them the chance to prepare what they had planned. He didn’t believe they were here for violence, be he gripped his cane in case it was their intention.
He swung the door open and stepped inside his home.
“If you are here to murder me, please do so I can get on with my evening.” Viktor said as he stepped across the threshold, into his kitchen and finally viewed the three interlopers.
The girl was lean and muscular, with a shock of pinkish red hair cut short on one side. He was sure the more even-tempered boy was the one making tea, or at least heating water, a thick handsome boy wearing goggles. The third was the thin younger boy with the wild shock of black hair, with a surprised frown that read shocked that Viktor didn’t come through the front door. Only fools and marks come through the front door. He was neither.
“We're not here to murder you...” the girl said, her hands up in a calming fashion. She was ready for this. “We're not here to hurt you. We just want to talk.”
“I’d gathered that...” Viktor said and looked at the thick boy. “The Kumungu if you please.” and pointed at the bag of cured leaf on the side of the stove top, next to the ball diffuser. “You know how to make tea, yes.”
The boy looked insulted as he grabbed the mug on the counter and began packing the tea diffuser with the dried leaves. Viktor leaned on his cane. “So, if you're not here to murder me, what can I do for you?”
The girl motioned to the kitchen table, and he could see the sheer volume of items that she had placed there. Everything was a cacophony of color, painted or scribbled with oil crayons with faces of animals, or just a rainbow of color making them more fetching to the eye. Beyond that, some of the items were made of trash metal, loose wire and exploding inspiration while others were more refined, machined and planned carefully. He stepped up to his table and picked up one of the trash metals trickets, and rolled it in his hand. It had some heft to it. It was painted to look like a mouse.
“What are these?” Viktor asked, eyebrow raised.
“Grenades.” The thin boy said. “Shitty grenades I suggested we leave behind.” He pointed at the girl. “But did Vi listen... NooOOOooOOoo... She brought the shitty shit.”
“So, you brought explosives into my home.” Viktor said, glaring at Vi. She in turn sneered at the boy he imagined was Mylo and stepped forward. “It’s not like that, they’re inert.” She spoke. “But the tinkering is sound.”
“You, boy...” Viktor pointed at the bushy haired boy. “Fetch me my tools on the side table, if you please.” and took a seat, sighing from the lack of pressure on his pained body, placing his cane close at hand. The boy did so, bringing the canvas roll bag of tools to him as the thicker boy set a hot mug just out of elbow range. The smell of the Kumungu tea brought a smile to his face. “Thank you, Claggor.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “How did...”
“I was listening from outside and gathered names from your conversations.” Viktor said, as he began taking apart the grenade. “Vi, Mylo and yourself, Claggor.” he said, pointing to each of them in turn. He returned to his task and took several minutes disassembling the grenade. He had to admit it was well constructed even with the hard punched gears and dodgy clockworks. The error he could see was the horrible chemical choices for the accelerant. They’d make nothing more than a poof. He slid a set of goggles over his eyes, just in case.
“You did a remarkable job on the base engineering of the device, but your choice of explosive was poor at best.” He had an idea how looking over the other grenades would go. He’d look at the machined parts next.
“I didn’t make these.” The girl said, as Claggor leaned on the table. “It was our sister. These are her inventions.”
That made sense, he thought. None of the children here seemed the type to make anything. They seemed more street thugs than inventors. Not that you couldn’t be both of course, but this lot seemed the former.
“I see, then why didn’t she come with you?” Viktor asked, taking the top off one of the grenades and looking at the activation clockworks. The gearwork was rudimentary but inspired, especially from a teenager with no training. Perhaps she had to work or had a child to look after. Both were possible in the undercity.
The bushy haired boy, Mylo, laughed. “She can barely get here in the daytime, trencher running at night would kill her.” He chuckled, and looked at his siblings, who were now glowering at him. “What?” More to the mystery has been revealed, thought Viktor as he unhooked the chemical accelerant lines from the trip. He slid the casing off and removed the chem-tubes and placed them carefully on the table. They may just poof, but they’d make a mess.
“She is a weak child then...”
“Watch it!” The girl, Vi, growled and leaned forward.
“I was a weak child.” He said without looking away from the item, putting his ocular to his eye, “I meant no disrespect.” He continued his assessment of the mechanism. “You three are strong and capable. This is a girl who wishes to contribute but is unable to because of her physical inadequacies. She wants to belong, stand tall with the three of you.” He removed the cover and nodded. “This is very good work, inspired with the materials on hand. I had to hand stamp gears when I was a child.” he nodded. “She is you little sister, perhaps fifteen, sixteen?”
“Twelve.” Claggor stated. The child was beginning to sound more and more familiar to him. He nodded and put the trinket bomb down
“She made those when she was ten.” Vi added and pointed at the more refined looking ones. “These are her most recent.” Viktor nodded, and laid the disassembled item off to the side, and picked one of the egg shaped devices. Again, it was brightly painted with multiple dots and splashes. More abstract this time, no cute animals on this one. He noticed the children stepping back, while the boy Claggor looked at the window, ready to open it.
“What does this one...?” Viktor asked, holding up the device.
Vi sighed. “Stink bomb, makes you vomit.” she said, “It has to be twisted to activate it.” Viktor nodded, and looked at the seam around the circumference, and saw the point to pop off the casing. He was beginning to see a pattern. “How do you know this?”
“Because one went off and we all vomited.” Mylo said. “That sucked. Hard.” He pulled a tool from his pocket and began fiddling with it. It instantly caught Viktor’s attention. “What is that?”
“My lockpick, popped your door like a dream.” the boy said, holding it up with a smile on his face, then his face flashed momentarily. “Oh yeah, Powder made this too.”
“Let him see it...” Vi said, pointing her chin at the man. Mylo shook his head “NO way! He’ll take it apart.” and shoved it behind him.
“I won't, I promise.” Viktor said. “That is the only thing here that doesn’t explode or cause some type of bodily harm.” He held out his hand. “You have my word...”
He could see the mental tug of war in the boys' minds as he finally handed the tool over to him. “The dials change the teeth, makes it really easy to just pop the lock.” Viktor turned the dials, and watched the cuts and biting alter into a good facsimile of a key. “How did she make this?”
“Powder got the idea from a tool my ol’ man had, left it to me when I ended up in the orphanage. Thing never worked right, and I had to learn how to pick locks the old-fashioned way.” he said, leaning next to Viktor. Too close for Viktor’s liking. “She took it and made a new one for me...” and nodded when Viktor raised it, saying this was what he was talking about. “She had to use Benzo’s work bench and his fine tools, and Ekko helped with the tiny gears and stuff since he has the cutting bench.” Vi was about to interject but Claggor mouthed “wait” “Powder also made me a shit ton of practice locks to work the kinks out if it, and Benzo said they were pretty good locks.”
Another name Viktor recognized. Benzo, a pawn shop owner and tinkerer. “Ekko?”
“Benzo’s apprentice.” Vi said. “A genius in his own right.”
“He’s also twelve.” Claggor supplied. “He rebuilt a disk runner from scratch for deliveries.”
Viktor nodded, and handed the lock pick back to Mylo, who snatched it away into his pocket. Viktor did not take offense, in fact could appreciate the boy's reaction. When he was Mylo’s age, he was very protective of his possessions. He also kept trash items that he could use to throw a pursuer off his trail. Throw a shiny object down an alley, you might get five or six seconds to find a place to hide if you were a crippled boy or sprint off if you have a healthy body. Viktor straightened his leg, trying to relax the shooting pain down his shin, the unrelenting pain in his hip. He pointed at a locked box on the small mantle above the fireplace, and Claggor nodded, grabbing the box.
“Show me.” as Claggor placed it on the table.
Mylo glanced at his siblings and sat on the other chair, inspecting the lock for a moment before Viktor rolled his eyes and pulled the chair closer, directly next to him and motioned him to carry on. Mylo nodded and set to work, inserting the lockpick and rolling the dials for a second before turning the end knob, and with a satisfied grin turned the mechanism and the small lockbox lid popped open. Viktor didn’t hold back the smile as the he removed the notes and sketched from the container.
“I lost the keys to that some time ago, and never got around to having it opened.” Viktor pulled out the papers and laid them on the table.
Mylo raised an eyebrow, to which Viktor gave a chuckle and fished the pocket of his vest and pulled out three Cogs. The boy grinned and stashed it away, satisfied. One should get paid for their labors, Viktor thought. “You can keep the box...” It was likewise snatched off the table and tucked away into a backpack as he finished the sentence. “...there is no key...”
This has been an enjoyable distraction, but it was getting late, and he was getting hungry.
“So, let's get down to it, then...” Viktor began, rubbing his thigh. “It is getting late, and you won't be staying here.” though he had an idea what they wanted. They were trying to impress him with the girls' tinkering abilities, hoping that he can help find a way to the academy.
“Right...” Vi said, crossing her arms, and blowing out before she started speaking. Viktor imagined she was used to shouting orders, not convincing people to her side. Or perhaps he was wrong, and she was quite adept at speaking.
“I want you to take her on as an apprentice...” She said, “Or at least consider it. We have some money.”
Viktor wasn’t expecting that, not in the least. He had expected them to plead a case about the academy, how she would be the best student ever, a child prodigy with untapped potential. Not that anyone had ever approached him before about the subject before, as he was certain he was unknown in the undercity. His family was dead, he had no friends to speak of in the Lanes or Piltover. How did these three children come to know about him? Through Vander? How was the Hound of the Underground aware of him?
Or was it someone else...
Viktor leaned back in his chair, glancing between the three of them as Vi continued. “You know how hard it is for an undercity kid to find a teacher, you had to come all the way up here to get accepted with a stolen uniform.”
“Who told you that story?” Viktor crossed his arms, looking at the young woman. He accentuated his point with his finger at each word. “...And I was never accepted.”
I’m still not.
“Was it a lie?”
“That wasn’t the question.” The man said. “That isn't a story that is widely known, and whoever told you of it and pushed you in my direction knows more than I may be comfortable with.” He noticed the look in the girls eyes, nodding. She understands.
“A Doctor who works for the man I do jobs for, he’s been bringing me text books for Powder. He said the books would only get her so far and suggested we find you.” she spoke. “That you’d be a good mentor. He said you helped him years ago, that you were a kind boy back then.”
Viktor nodded and tapped his chin. So, the old man was still alive, thriving apparently if he is passing on text books to a child. He remembered the man, and his approach to science and occasionally remembered Rio, his test subject.
Or victim, depending on point of view.
Either way, he would not hold his distaste for the old scientist against them. They came up from the Undercity, ignoring the possible danger to themselves to break into his home and offer him a presentation of various explosives made by a young child. He had to admit he was impressed by nothing else than their tenacity.
“I will need to consider, and I will need to meet the child. Where can I find you...”
“The Last Drop, we all live there.” Claggor said, joining his siblings on the other side of the table from Viktor who nodded. He could find it.
“Are you going to need help getting there, cuz of the...” Mylo started, and though better of it realizing Vi and Claggor were giving him stink eye. Thinking better of it didn’t last wrong. “Cuz of the cane, right?”
“The Bathyspheres are still running, yes?” Viktor raised his eyebrow. “There are still fairly flat roads?”
“We’ll go, thanks for your time...” Vi said, pointing towards the front door, and halted with a loud “ahem” bringing her attention back to the various explosives still on the table. Realization dawns and motions for Mylo and the shoulder bag and begins loading up the colorful machines of destruction.
Viktor holds a hand up and grabs the vomit bomb from holding it earlier. “I’ll keep this one, and the one I disassembled earlier.” He spoke. “Use the back entrance, less of a chance of Enforcers to see you. You’ll be using the rooftops, yes?” He had always wanted to do that, Trench Run across the city and that feeling of freedom that will always elude him. Vi looked him up and down a moment before responding with a simple nod.
With that, Viktor was alone in his bungalow. A cooling cup of tea and a disassembled explosive device spread across his table. He regarded the egg shaped stink bomb, remembering how Vi said it needed to be twisted to prime it. He reached for one of his fine punches and began taking the bomb apart.
THE DREDGE PRISON: SECOND SHIFT: 23 BELLS
Zora Reez followed her brother towards the chamber that had once been the place the Dredge’s prisoners would eat, now converted into an assembly hall for the Black Orchid Society. It was where they had been summoned to relate their actions against the man who had defeated the Shimmered Trenchers Takjira had set upon him and was able again use her older brothers magics against them. In this instance, her brother had seemed pleased with the outcome.
He wouldn’t tell her why, only that he knew his weakness. What weakness? He beat the Society twice, and after the first time they went into seclusion, keeping constant watch on the two cities.
Well, one City and it’s Slum.
She looked up and realized she was lagging Tak and quickened her pace to catch up. There was six years between them, but there were times she felt as if she was the one who looked after him. Tak has gotten himself into more scraps that required her to port him away from danger, only to do so again.
This was the case with this soldier from nowhere, the man who was faster than the arcane, deflecting hexes and redirecting them towards a monster. Able to easily scale a wall with two strides. A man who could throw a full-sized armored enforcer eight meters through the air across a street to slam into a wall and knock him unconscious. Takjir was obsessed...
Her brother wanted this man beaten and broken, begging for an end.
She would make sure he would have what he wanted, so he could end this destructive behavior.
They approached the hall where they were to meet with the Maestro and the High Court of the Black Orchids. She had never been in such a meeting, only hearing of it from Tak. He would relay much of what was said and leave out what he thought unimportant. Now she was going to be inside the room now, she was going to be part of the conversation. She didn’t have to wait for what word came down from on high, so that her voice wasn’t going to be filtered through to another person.
The doors opened as they approached, two robed figures standing on either side of the entry that opened into a voluminous chamber. It was dimly lit, enough that she could see Dredgenauts along the back wall, their augmented eyes fixated on the pair of them as they approached the single table in the center of the room, the only place in the entire chamber that was well lit.
The Maestro sat at the head of the table, behind him was the imposing General Urgot, the glow of his multitude of chem-tech augments were most distracting. The Noxian was mostly augments at this point, his legs replaced from the hips down to his right arm. The general glared at them as they approached the table to join the other assembled. Each seat of the table was taken, except one, by a member of the High Council, each one had their toes within Piltovan society. Zora recognized a couple of Enforcers, and the Councilor from Clan Tariost as well. The others she didn’t, but it didn’t matter. the one she wondered most about was the empty seat.
“When will Councilor Bolbok’s body be found?” The well-dressed woman asked from across the table to the Enforcer Zora knew as Roland Ayres. The captain leaned on the armrest of the chair. “We had to wait for the appropriate time, to keep the Sheriff off guard.” He stated. The woman’s face took on a perplexed look. “It was supposed to be suicide, since House Torek lost nearly all its assets under his watch.” She looked at the Maestro. “Well done on that, by the way.”
“Of course, Sybil Arvino, we needed another friendly house on the council, and Arvino fits nicely.” He responded. “I am becoming concerned about Thena Grayson’s involvement in all this. Is there nothing we can hold over her?”
Ayres shook his head. “She is unwaveringly incorruptible and has a loyal following withing the department. Enough that our people must keep up the façade of loyalty towards her.”
“The Sheriff has continued to be a problem for our intrenched brothers...” The Maestro crooned, leaning forward in his chair to rest his forearms on the edge of the table. “I was under the impression that Thena Grayson would be under our control by now.” Zora watched the reactions of a few of the assembled. Captain Ayres leaned back in his chair, his crisp uniform glinting in the table light. He shook his head and looked back to their leader.
“She has proven to be far more of an irritant to our cause than was earlier believed.” He said. “The Sheriff refused to drop the hammer on the undercity, so to speak, and she keeps her ties with the Hound far too close to her vest for my liking. She has left the Talis case open for review as she was not convinced of the gas leak. Steps may have to be taken.”
“She can’t be killed, she would become a martyr, with more of her ilk rallying around her. She needs to be disgraced.” The Maestro’s hood shifted its gaze to the older man at the table, who took a deep swallow from his wine glass. “Councilor Hoskel, your opinion. It would be you who would have to nominate another Sheriff after she is dealt with.”
Councilor Feladore Hoskel coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke. “She’s far more interested in keeping the peace than control for my liking. We need workers chained to their posts, not running willy-nilly along the lanes.” he said, “Why is the Hound’s not rotting in Stillwater, or floating in the Pilt I have no idea.” The Piltovan Councilor leaned forward. “I threw in with you lot to ensure my house’s continued relevance on the world stage and your habit of not coddling the lower classes.”
“The Lanes would become unstable if Vander the Hound were to disappear.” Captain Ayres said, leaning back. “We do not have enough brothers withing the ranks of the Enforcers to be able to hold onto the Lanes yet, and there are a lot of heads we’d need to sever from that snake before we could pacify the Trenchers.” Ayers was a true believer in the cause, though not a Mage Borne.
“The obvious one is Vander to start with...” the other Enforcer stated. “The man holds too much power and influence.” He was a tall blond man, even sitting he was heads taller than several of the assembled.
“Whom would you replace him with then, Captain Weathers... there are few choices worth mentioning...”
From behind them, a new voice echoed in. She turned to see a painfully thin man, passed middle age with a receding fringe of hair on his head. Yellow eyes glanced at her as he passed by and took his seat, and she shiver that traced down her spine unnerved her.
“Professor Corin Revack, we are glad you could join us.” Maestro said, giving the old man a nod. “You do not grace our presence often, too busy with Silco's experiments.” Several of the assembled narrowed their eyes at the man, all but Urgot, who looked almost amused. The pair of Enforcers were suddenly on edge. Was it bad she did not know who this man was? He looked like a Trencher, though one that was better situated she admitted. The Maestro looked favorably at him, which meant she should as well.
“When it holds merit, I make the time to attend.” The Doctor said, taking a sip of water from the tankard that sat before him, and shifted to look at Zora and Takjir. Waiting.
“If I can be here, so can this old fool.” Hoskel said, pouring another glass of wine, and then offered him the tip of the glass. The Doctor simply returned the toast.
“Back to business...” The high-born woman said, leaning forward. “There are others that have become troublesome, namely the upstart Talis and his Hextech experimentations. I had thought that had been take care of.”
“Sybil Arvino brings up a good point...” The Maestro said, addressing the table. “We took the Brackern Crystals from the tool maker, yet still he continues to make progress, perhaps surpassing House Farros own experiments. Do we know what he is doing?”
“We have no one inside House Kiramman, Maestro.” one of the assembled supplied. “We will address this...” they said, shuffling uncomfortably. “It may be difficult as they are hosting the Demacian nobles, and their security has been raised. What was interesting was the Crownguards brought no one with them according to a crewman of the Doxy Codger.”
Zora took note of the Noxian generals’ reaction to the name.
“It’s true.” Councilor Hoskel stated. “They brought no one with them, freeloading on a Piltovan family.” He shook his head. “No stewards or servants, and I didn’t think Demacians went anywhere without a few Mageseekers to keep tabs on them. Disgraceful, and there are secrets there to be had, mark my words.”
Takjir spoke up for the first time. “I have a mind on this, Maestro. I can share my thoughts after this meeting.”
“The infiltration of Glasc Industries?” The hooded master of the Black Orchids asked after a nod to her brother, acknowledging him for the first time and a deep male voice offered a less than favorable results. “Their heads were returned in a box.” That was all the deep voiced man said, just that and the Maestro simply nodded.
“Our agents Takjir and Zora Reez have come today to share their experiences in the Black Lanes..” The leader stated, and motioned them to carry on. Tak gave a short bow, and moved forward. She remained behind him, still visible but gave him room to speak.
“Last year, we learned of an individual who appeared to have extranormal abilities who came out of nowhere to essentially thwart our attempt to take the Kiramman heir into our custody. Several of our spotters stated he ran at speeds that was beyond the basic human norm, and strength and reflexes that harbored on supernatural.” Tak started, motioning for her to pull out the dossiers she spend hours copying by hand.
“To the point of evading a burst of arcane energy, and even redirecting it to kill one of our Brothers. He used the same skill sets and abilities to defeat three of Professor Revack’s creatures” he paused. “This time, he had the Shield which he used as a weapon as well as protection.” Tak leaned on the table. “The Trenchers in the Sump have began calling his the Nomad, the man from Nowhere.”
“That came from personal experience.” Zora supplied. The assembled glanced at her momentarily before focusing back on Tak. “The Nomads actions all coincides with the unfortunate loss of Joc Urnst, murdered last year by two sump snipes using that same magic shield as he attempted to reclaim stolen arcane energy which was his right as a mageborne.”
“Days before those incidents, a massive mana drain was noticed, near the time we reclaimed the Brackern from Jayce Talis. Too much of a coincidence.” Zora again spoke up. Her brother nodded.
“Indeed, and that began our investigation of him.” He motioned for her to pass around the books, one to each member of the High Council. “Through our various Undercity contacts, as well as my sister’s unique arcane abilities we have been able to assemble this information.”
The assembled opened the dossiers, and began perusing as Tak continued. “This man, Steve Rogers, has taken up residence in the Undercity with Vander and his people, and according to Urnst saw this Rogers leaving the abandoned Funhouse before his fateful end early that very morning. The older girl, Violet was seen wearing his armor and helmet on the street after the explosion decimated the building and fatally wounding Joc Urnst.”
“The Sheriff killed our mage, get it right.” Ayres said, a sneer in his voice.
“Sheriff Grayson sped his fate along, but he wasn’t going to survive in any case.” Tak said. “I place blame on the two trencher girls.”
The Doctor leaned forward. “Mr Reez, may I interject to support your position..” who nodded. “I still have contacts with the Forensics in Piltover, and Dr. Shuler concurred Mr. Reez’s hypothesis on Mr. Urnst’s chances of survival.” The Doctor stated. “He would have taken three more steps and collapsed.”
“The Hound and his brood seem to have much to answer for, including this man from nowhere.” Maestro stated, steepling his fingers in front of him. “This… Champion..” He said, searching for the word. “He is intrenched with them?”
“He is the bartender, that in and of itself is a problem. It gives Vander time to dedicate his actions in the Lanes.” Tak said. “The Hound has had a meeting with Renata Glasc, though as we said, we do not have eyes inside her organization.”
Zora decided that there was something that needed said. “You all may already be aware that Trenchers and Piltovans alike are beginning to see the Shield itself as a symbol of hope. There is graffiti has appeared on both sides of the river linking it to Janna.” She stated. “Is this something that can be used by us for advantage?”
The assembled had responses ranging from queries to flat out scoffs. Only the Maestro remained quiet until the table discussions died down. He didn’t address her question, at least not directly. Finally, he sat up, and set his hands flat on the table and stood, demanding silence from the assemblage.
“Takjir, you shall continue your efforts to finding more about this man and his connections in the Undercity. You will also be responsible for learning more of Vanders operations moving forward. You shall have whatever resources you need and Captain Ayres will be your contact in Piltover if you need assistance.” The leader stood up, and began walking around the table.
“It’s been said the Hound has lost his teeth, I want to see what happens when he finds them again.” Maestro stops next to Tak, and Zora coldnt help but peer into the black shape of the hood. “I want to see what happens when he breaks, and what the man from Nowhere does…”
“I know just how to do that, Maestro.” Tak’s grin went from ear to ear. “I will get Vander to break, and the Nomad to fall..”