Arcane fanfic: A Night at the Bar
Sunday, 10 March 2024 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaffy_rFandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Netflix animated series)
Characters: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Powder, Vander, Jayce Talis, Claggor, Sevika
Words: 8,119, per AO3
Edited by: my beloved
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dr_whuh.Summary: An evening that begins with Piltover condescension and Undercity suspicion, and gets bloodier from there, marks the first meeting of two remarkable women. The metal arm on the floor doesn't really play into it. In a timeline where Powder's monkey bomb doesn't kill her family, Vi's and Caitlyn's first meeting is ... memorable.
Author's notes: I will always love Arcane for a multitude of reasons, despite (or perhaps because of) its beautifully brutal tragedy. But after watching it I decided that, facts be damned, I was going to write a story that made sure Mylo lived. Claggor and Vander, too. And I was going to ensure that her family would help keep Powder herself, and prevent the creation of Jinx. It was going to be one and done, I thought.
*** *** ***
For years, Vi remembered the first time she saw the Kiramman woman. Her Caitlyn, although she wasn’t that then, of course.
Back then she was simply a tall spit-and-polish Enforcer walking into The Last Drop, her eyes everywhere at once, scanning the bar’s shadowy environs, presumably looking to find and punish evil-doers who she probably thought were lurking in every one of those shadows.
Vi didn’t notice her at first. But Powder, who was getting ready to spell Vi at the bar, spotted Caitlyn Kirraman’s companion and elbowed her sister. “Get a load of the Piltie himbo. And, hey — his guard dog’s a looker. She’d be a tasty number for you, sister mine.”
Before she could stop herself, Vi turned her head to catch a better look at the Enforcer, then realized Powder was grinning, her eyes glittering.
“For the love of —” She should have expected it. She returned her sister’s grin, albeit a bit unwillingly, then went back to cleaning the bar top rather more violently than the chore required. She glared at it, determinedly keeping her eyes off the Enforcer.
Powder teased Vi inordinately about the way she eyed pretty women; her very adult interest was generally stymied by her stomach-churning uncertainty around them. But Powder’s teasing was, at heart, gentler than the teasing she’d aim at Mylo, or even Claggor. In fact, she was the one to comfort Vi when her few attempted love affairs inevitably fell apart. That was when the tough sister who took no shit from anyone might end up crying on the shoulder of the little sister who was once so shy she couldn’t speak in front of strangers.
(God, Vi … you’re smart, and strong, and good-looking. Why are you so sure you aren’t? Yeah, you fight hard, and you use sticking plaster and bandages instead of makeup, but — and Powder had stopped herself that night when she saw her beloved older sister’s misery. It’s gonna be OK, Vi. C’mon over here … here’s a hanky. I promise you’ll find someone. Pinky swear. )
Vi never let anyone but Powder see her that vulnerable. And after each one of those rare occasions, she would haunt the Undercity’s fight clubs, giving and taking punishment even more fiercely than she normally did. Her family knew they couldn’t dissuade her from the brutal avocation that brought her and the family extra coin, but Vander looked sad every time she came home black and blue.
Powder held her tongue when that happened; Claggor would generally look as sad as his adoptive father. Mylo would roll his eyes, but he, too, would hold his tongue. Vi knew what her family thought of her fights, and the reasons she insisted on fighting, but she refused to acknowledge their concerns, especially after her bouts of heartbreak, because that would force her to acknowledge things she never wanted to acknowledge.
Right now, Vi was more interested in clearing out the bar back load of dirty mugs and goblets before the meeting Vander had coerced her into attending than in eyeing the Pilties she’d have to deal with at that meeting. Still, she couldn’t help but pay Powder's snickered comment some attention, in part because she wanted to get a preview of their expected but unwanted guests. She finally raised her eyes to the larger room, taking care to maintain her scowl.
Sure enough, the guy — who was even taller than his Enforcer buddy — was almost as bulky as Vander, albeit with no grey hair and much more fashionable attire only partly hidden under a drab coat that he must have donned in an attempt to hide his Piltover origin. She briefly inspected him, determinedly ignoring his companion … Talis. The himbo’s name (and boy, wasn’t Powder spot on in her assessment) was Talis. Jayce Talis. He was some kind of politician-scientist, or maybe a scientist-politician. The way he looked, though … okay, there was apparently a brain under that thick thatch of dark hair, but weren’t scientists supposed to be like that little guy, Heimerdinger?
Still, Talis had actually agreed to meet Vander. Vi was reluctantly impressed. She wondered briefly what he thought of all the hostile looks he was garnering from Last Drop regulars, who easily clocked him as a Piltie, drab coat notwithstanding, not to mention the woman. Then again, he didn’t really look at the tables or the people he was passing; typical Piltie ignorance, Vi decided. At least he came, and that had to be good, right?
She had been surprised when Vander told her he’d taken her advice: tell the Kiramman woman, the Enforcer supposedly being assigned as some sort of liaison, that he’d talk to her only if the Piltover Council member in charge of security came with her. Her adoptive father had taken her suggestion in silence, although he’d nodded slightly in what seemed to be approval. Vi hadn’t heard a lot more about it until the previous night; that’s when Vander told her he’d gotten word back from Piltover’s Council.
(They’ve agreed to send Jayce Talis down with the new liaison , he’d told her. Your instincts about demanding he come were right; thank you. She hadn’t known what to say to that, but she’d smiled, accepting his praise — until Vander said I want you to be here. She’d gawped at him, and told him she was the last person he should want there. You know my temper, Vander. And I just know that one of them is going to say something to make me blow my top. He’d shaken his head: I know you won’t. You’ve matured; you’ve got self-discipline these days, more than you think. And you don’t have to say anything, not if you don’t want to. But I need you there as a witness.)
This whole meeting was a calculated risk, Vi knew. The pact between Vander and Silco had kept The Lanes relatively safe and clean, with no Shimmer infecting the neighborhood. The agreement had held for well over half a decade. But The Lanes were increasingly isolated in the undercity — in Zaun, as more and more people afraid of Silco were calling it.
About six months earlier, Silco’s people began pushing at the agreed-upon borders between Vander’s neighborhood and the rest of the Undercity.
Sometimes the push was a subtle poke; sightings of Silco’s men and women walking around The Lanes, or some of them dropping by for a tense drink at The Last Drop, or slightly less tense drinks at Elton’s or other bars. Shimmer? None sold, nothing said, but Vander and his people didn’t like having to be on high alert, and it was happening more and more.
And sometimes — more and more often — it was more than a poke; it was an outright visible shove by one or two members from a couple of Sevika’s less savvy sales teams. Sevika quickly hauled those idiots back out of The Lanes; they generally ended up damaged or dead, with Sevika or Silco sending a note to Vander that they hadn’t sold any Shimmer in the neighborhood. But the last time it happened, only days ago, Vi heard Vander saying something under his breath about the blood flaking off, and she worried.
It was after the most brazen of those incursions, one that didn’t result in a note from either Sevika or Silco, (but had, on the other hand, resulted in a jumpy stomach for Vi and real nightmares for Powder) that Vander sent word topside. He finally agreed to meet with the woman who Piltover’s Council wanted to make an official liaison with the undercity, (or at least a liaison with The Lanes), and with one of her putative bosses, the Council’s security chief and scientific golden boy.
And that was the problem, Vi thought, waiting for the two Pilties to get past the last couple of tables to approach the bar.
Part of the original deal between Vander and Silco, beside Silco’s agreement not to sell Shimmer inside The Lanes, was that Vander wouldn’t cooperate with topside, the way he’d done during Grayson’s administration. Vi had still been a kid when they’d shared blood on the agreement. She hadn’t been in the barroom when it happened; only Powder and Ekko had seen the deed. She knew what it meant, though. And as Vander had said the other night, the blood was flaking.
Theoretically, Vander could call Silco in and refresh the agreement, or at least try to convince Silco to do that. But truth be told, Vi didn’t want him to renew the agreement; every time she thought of Silco, she alternated between rage and fear.
It just wasn’t that he’d tried to kill her, Vander, the entire family six years ago. It was that, yes, but it was also what he was doing to her world and the people in it. She regularly traveled outside The Lanes — for fights and for jobs that Vander sent her on, like trips to the markets where she negotiated and haggled for everything they needed; barrels of small beer and cheap red wine, skinny chickens and river fish, potatoes, lentils, and cheese for the family’s meals, cleaning supplies and sundries.
During those trips, she saw what Silco had made of much of the rest of the Undercity. The addicts, their crying kids, the trash pits filled with empty and broken vials, She hated it. So no, she didn’t want her father to renew his pledge.
Inside The Lanes, people were willing to fight. They loved Vander, and some, she thought, would die for him almost as willingly as his children would. But the neighborhood was small. It was increasingly filled with kids, whose parents were moving to The Lanes in ever larger numbers, trying to keep their children as safe as possible from the cancerous growth of Shimmer-warped Zaun. Vander had his hands full trying to ensure they had spaces to live, the occasional teacher to give the kids their letters, and care from Babette’s Allium or other healers. He and Vi knew they couldn’t win an all-out attack, if Silco decided to dishonor his vow.
And that left topside —
“Excuse me; I said , I’m looking for Vander, and I was told he would be waiting for us.”
Vi almost jumped at the Enforcer’s words, and she didn’t completely stifle her surprised squeak. She was chagrined at how easily the woman had crept up on her.
Well, “crept up” wasn’t right. This Kiramman woman had simply walked up while Vi was woolgathering. Vi gathered her dignity and looked up at the Enforcer, whose angular face caught bar light and shadow in unexpected ways. Unlike her … boss? Yeah, boss … she didn’t seem to give a damn about being clocked as a Piltie; she had a gun-filled side holster, and a rifle slung in a holster on her back. Her hair hung loose beneath her cap; Vi automatically marked that as a weakness in close quarter fighting. But it was very pretty.
“He is. I’m Vi, and I’ll take you and Mr. Talis to him.” There, she thought. That sounded mature enough.
“And you are …” Kiramman’s eyes were distractingly blue, Vi thought. Kiramman’s comment, on the other hand —
“I told you. I’m Vi.” She glowered at the woman.
“Vi who?” Oh, that was pure Piltie, Vi thought. She has no idea about our lives or how we live them.
Talis put a very large hand on Kiramman’s arm. “Caitlyn, a lot of them don’t have last names. Don’t be —”
Vi didn’t appreciate that much; yes, it meant he knew more about some Undercity things than his admittedly very attractive companion, but it sounded like a tour guide explaining the strange ways of savages. She glowered even more. “Never mind that. You both want to see Vander, right? Then follow me. Or get the hell out of here. You’re bothering our patrons.”
The two Pilties looked at each other, then back at Vi. Kiramman answered Vi’s scowl with one of her own, and opened her mouth, only to shut it again when Talis tightened his grip on her arm. Her eyes — they were so blue — widened, but she shook her hair back, straightened up even more than she’d been, which Vi could have sworn was impossible, and nodded.
Talis turned back to Vi, and nodded himself. He looked her in the eye, which surprised her a bit. The Enforcer had kept looking at her, then looking away (and Vi didn’t admit to herself that she was disappointed about that.) “Thank you.”
Well, that was a little better.
Vi signaled Powder, who had made herself scarce at the other side of the bar. “You’re on.”
Powder raised one hand in acknowledgement, making her way over to her sister. “Gotcha. Take care, huh?” The look she gave the Piltover delegation was oddly measuring. “Treat ‘em right, mmkay? Counting on you and Vander. Everyone is.”
That’s when Vi realized how many patrons in The Last Drop no longer looked at Talis and Kiramman with hostility. Their looks had turned to something else, some hope deep in their eyes.
God almighty. Word got out; of course it got out. And now everyone is hoping something good will come of it for the Undercity, for The Lanes. This is going to be too big. It’s going to be too important for me to be involved with. Vander doesn’t need me there. I hope he doesn’t need me.
She looked at her hands as she swung out from behind the bar. They were trembling, although she doubted anyone else could spot that.
She steered the Pilties into the back corridor, and into the big family room. She, Mylo and Claggor had scoured it as clean as possible the night before, and covered some of the more disreputable chairs with blankets. It still looked like the ramshackle pit that it was, but at least Vander approved of what they’d done. If their … guests … didn’t like it, they’d have to lump it, she figured.
Vander was waiting for them, and seeing him helped Vi steady herself. He looked up from the little table, where he appeared to have been placing papers that she couldn’t identify, and smiled at her. That helped even more.
“Thank you for coming here,” he said to the visitors. Both of them ducked their heads slightly to get through the door, then straightened and looked around them.
Vi waited for the looks she was sure they’d give the space, and she fought the urge to ball up her fists. Vander wanted diplomacy; she wasn’t diplomatic, but she could at least try not to look like the street scrapper she was.
Then she realized they weren’t judging their surroundings the way she thought they would. They were looking at Vander, and they were looking at him with … she couldn’t believe it and then she was absurdly grateful to believe it … they were looking at him with respect.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Talis said. “I know this is dangerous. For The Lanes; for you.”
Vander looked as if he wanted to shrug, but instead said, “It is. But it’s more dangerous for me not to meet with you. I have people I have to protect, and I can’t do it alone.”
Her father always cut to the chase, Vi thought; he didn’t use as many niceties as Piltover society probably required. He didn’t have time for them, especially not right now. That caught their visitors by surprise. There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke.
“May I sit?” Talis asked.
He wasn’t being patronizing, and Vi had no idea how to process that. From the gossip she’d heard on the streets, and from the rumors Claggor brought home from his work on the airship wharves, she’d gone into this night knowing Talis was smart, even if he was a himbo. A scientific genius himbo, too; he and a partner had created the hex gates.
Tonight, his attitude toward her adoptive father, surprising as she might find it, was welcome. Still … the idea she might have a positive opinion of someone from Piltover was difficult to swallow.
“Of course, although you might not want that chair; it’s a little unbalanced,” Vander said. Vi looked and saw it was the chair Claggor generally sat in. She forced herself not to snicker. Talis looked at the chair and said, with only the tiniest lift of his lips indicating a smile, “So am I.”
Vi couldn’t help it; she laughed.
The tall Enforcer’s head whipped around. “What’s funny?”
Vi was still chuckling when she chucked a thumb at Talis. “He is.”
“If you think a member of Piltover’s Council is funny, perhaps you don’t belong in the room.”
Now Vi didn’t fight the urge to ball her hands into fists. That was exactly what a Piltie would say, what an Enforcer —
— she stopped and looked this particular Enforcer up and down. It drew an even more pronounced scowl from the woman, but Vi didn’t care. The woman hadn’t sat down, at least in part because she hadn’t taken off her rifle holster. Yeah, because she’s protecting Talis from the dangers in this room. Idiot. After that, Vi took in the very shiny brass buttons and the crisp look of the uniform, the fact that it looked absolutely new, which probably meant it had been put together just for her. This was no regular police thug. So who was she?
No one Vi had to put up with. “Did your mama buy you that nice Enforcer uniform?”
Kiramman stiffened even further — how did she manage to do that without turning into a stick of wood, Vi wondered — and her hand dropped to her gun holster. “What are you insinuating?”
“That you wouldn’t last half an hour doing a regular Enforcer’s work shift — at least one of the bastards who patrols down here.”
Vi made sure to smirk directly into the Kiramman woman’s face as she said it.
Talis and Vander both turned to look at the two women. Vander pinched the bridge of his nose. Talis rolled his eyes. “Oh, for the love of — Caitlyn, I was making a joke; I’m glad she laughed.”
The woman’s irresistibly blue eyes widened, and Vi was delighted to see a very faint blush along her cheekbones. Rose and ivory … Vi was reminded of some of the rare bell flowers that sometimes bloomed in the Undercity’s upper reaches.
Kiramman took a deep breath and dropped her hand from her gun, before turning to Talis and nodding. Then she turned back to Vi.
“My apologies. That was rude of me.” Her eyes finally met Vi’s directly. “I’ve been a — I’m sorry.”
Just as Vi picked her jaw up off the floor and tried to decide whether to accept or reject the woman’s absolutely sincere apology, Vander spoke. “Vi, this meeting was what you suggested, remember?”
Now it was Talis’ who was surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah. My daughter is occasionally wise,” Vander said, with a steady look at Vi, who felt her own face growing hot with embarrassment, largely because she knew she hadn’t been acting like an adult. “She recommended that I ask you to come here if I agreed to consider your offer of a liaison.”
The Kiramman woman — Caitlyn, her name is Caitlyn, why do I want to remember her name — tilted her head a bit. “Maybe we should start over. I’m Caitlyn Kiramman. I’m an Enforcer (and here she gave Vi a quick side eye) with two years' experience. Councillor Talis received permission from the full Council to visit the undercity after receiving your message, uh —”
Before she could put her foot in it and ask for his last name, Vander said, “Enforcer Kiramman, my name is Vander; just Vander. Welcome to The Last Drop.” He smiled, and Vi wondered if anyone could withstand that smile.
Caitlyn Kiramman apparently couldn’t; she returned his smile with one of her own. “Thank you, Vander. Councillor Talis asked me to accompany him, because he would ….” She stopped and looked at Talis. “Well, I should let him talk about it.”
Talis eyed his companion briefly and gave her the tiniest of nods, finally sat down (and balanced quite nicely on Claggor’s chair, Vi thought), and was silent for a moment. He seemed to gather his thoughts, then spoke. “The Council was a little surprised to get your message, Vander. Do you normally come to the upper city, just to leave a message?”
“In the old days, I would have left a message with the city’s Sheriff,” Vander said. “But Grayson’s gone.”
Talis frowned, very slightly, “Why not leave it for Marcus?”
Vander hesitated. “Marcus isn’t Grayson. Just my opinion, you understand, but I’ve met him on many occasions, and he —” he hesitated again, but only for a moment. “ — I don’t trust him.”
Vi saw the anger he still bore Grayson’s successor, but only because she knew her adoptive father. He didn’t show it to Talis. Nor did he say anything about Marcus’ betrayal of his superior to Silco and Deckard in the year of the cannery. Vi knew she’d ask him, after their visitors left, why he didn’t come right out and tell the Council member the truth. She thought Piltover should know what kind of snake they had in Grayson’s place, but —
“I’m not surprised,” Talis said. “I don’t either, but I’ve been unable to convince the Council to remove him. I’ve tried; he seems a little too close to Silco. He should never have been given the kind of authority he has now.”
Vander smiled, just a little. “Good to know. Normally, I’d trust someone who originally hailed from the Undercity, but Marcus always hated his past, so he hated us more than Grayson ever did.”
Vi’s attention was fixed on the two men, but she heard an indrawn breath from Kiramman. For a second, she thought the woman was responding to Talis’ and Vander’s comments about the guy who was still her chief. But Kiramman wasn’t looking at either man; she had turned to look behind her, roughly in the direction of the bar.
Noise from there, inescapable in any part of the ramshackle building, had been at a low rumble for some time. That was normal, and it always felt comfortable to her. The rumble had disappeared completely. It couldn’t be a fight; that usually stopped talk for a moment but invariably shot it up, as watchers laughed and shouted at the combatants. It had to be far more serious —
“Hey! Hey, the Lanes!” That was Powder’s voice calling out the warning that their neighborhood used to alert people about impending trouble. Bad trouble, trouble that passes a doorstep and invades homes. And the fact that no one else had lent their voice to Powder’s was even more foreboding.
Vander surged to his feet, but Vi was faster. “Stay here, I’ll check. Be right back to check the rear.”
He shook his head. “I’ll check the rear. You be careful, okay? Don’t open the barroom door. Check over the transom.”
“What’s going on?” To his credit, Talis kept his voice low. “Can I help?”
Vi didn’t stop to hear Vander’s answer. Silco; it has to be Silco. There’s nothing else she’d raise the alarm over —
She had barely left the room when she heard steps behind her. It was Kiramman.
“Go back!” Vi’s hiss was loud in the silence, and the silence was … it was dissolving into something even worse; she heard moaning.
“No. You need backup.” The Enforcer had lost her Upper City condescension. In its place was the watchfulness Vi had spotted when she and Talis had first entered the bar. She had her gun out, and her rifle was still on her back. Vi changed her mind; Kiramman might indeed prove to be useful. That “being useful” would necessarily entail opening the back barroom door, which Vander had specifically told her not to do, was of no matter, because she’d recognized who was moaning; Claggor. And if her very big, very streetwise little brother was moaning, it meant something much bigger and much more dangerous was probably on the scene.
She crooked a finger at Kiramman, then pointed at the door. When the Enforcer looked confused, Vi took a step back, leaned closer to her ear ( She smells of bell flowers, too ), and whispered, “My brother’s hurt. I’m going in.”
“What — who?” Kiramman, like Talis, knew enough to keep her voice down.
“Silco’s thugs, probably.”
“Would the man actually send his people in, so brazenly?”
Vi didn’t have time to teach her. “You wanna help? Or jaw?”
Kiramman’s lips thinned, but she apparently could think fast. “I’ll follow your lead.”
That felt good, hearing her say that, Vi thought, before hurriedly dispatching that thought.
She was about to move door-ward again, when Kiramman truly surprised her. The woman, who’d been clad in her tailor-made uniform and cap, tossed the cap to the floor, undid her rifle holster and carefully placed the rifle against the corridor wall, shrugged out of her tiny jacket and turned it inside out before donning it again. She tried roughing up her hair, even though the heavy silken locks resisted. “It’s all I can do right now; maybe they won’t notice I’m an Enforcer,” she whispered.
Vi blinked, then smiled. “Thanks.”
She wasn’t going to tell Kiramman that people at The Last Drop would never take her for anything but a Piltie and an Enforcer; most of them had seen her when she walked in with Talis anyway. But if the wardrobe readjustment confused anyone, even for a second, that was a positive. And it was thoughtful … maybe even kind — she forced herself back to the job at hand. “Let’s move.”
Vi, whose motto was usually “Come in Fast, Loud, and Fists Up,” didn’t do that. She’d changed her mind, and obeyed Vander, at least initially. She clambered, as quietly as she could, to a spot where she could cling to handholds on the hallway wall, a shelf where she could see out the barroom door transom. What she saw frightened her, and filled her with rage.
The Last Drop’s patrons were largely backed up to the walls. Very large men with the telltale purple eyes of Shimmer users kept them there, unable to leave the place. Four, maybe five of Silco’s boys, and even if they had no guns — guns were still rare in the Undercity — they all looked hungry for blood.
There was too much blood already. It was soaking Claggor’s shirt; he was backed up too, half-slumped against the bar with Powder next to him, one thin and muscular arm keeping him upright. In her other hand, she held one of her chompers. Facing her was Sevika, looking frustrated, and just as angry as Vi felt. One of her lieutenants, the one Vi thought of only as The Prizefighter, loomed behind her. His eyes had no hint of Shimmer in them. He had a huge knife in one of his oversized paws.
I’ll kill them if he dies. Vi’s own blood pounded in her ears. She jumped off the shelf. “Going in now.”
Vi flinched when Kiramman put one restraining hand on her forearm. “Wait. What are you seeing out there? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Silco’s lieutenant is out there with four, maybe five, Shimmer thugs keeping people inside, pushing them back against the walls. Sevika’s second, The Prizefighter, just knifed my brother, and my little sister is holding them off.”
“With what?”
“A chomper.”
“A what now?”
There was no more time. “I’m going in now.”
“No. Wait. I have an idea.”
Kiramman kept her grip on Vi’s arm. Vi didn’t shake her off; she could see the woman was calculating something. But she had to help Powder, who was bluffing. Sure, the chomper could maybe injure Sevika and maybe even The Prizefighter, but the Shimmer soldiers weren’t near enough to be hurt, and they probably would survive even a direct chomper hit. Instead, the explosion would probably send them into a frenzy.
“I’m going to try something, if your father will help me. Where’d he go? Where’s the back door?” Kiramman ditched her jacket completely.
“Over there.” Vi pointed to the exit door next to the door to Vander’s cubby office. She didn’t trust what Kiramman was saying she’d do, and she didn’t like being disappointed. “You taking to your heels?”
Blue-black hair swung in an arc as the woman stopped, turned on her, and said, “Didn’t you hear what I said? Oh, never mind.” She ducked into the room the two of them had just left. Seconds later she reappeared, wearing Talis’ coat. It flapped around her knees, but did hide her uniform. Then she grabbed her rifle.
“I hope your father’s easier to deal with than you are,” she said, before starting to go after Vander. Then she hesitated and said, her tone unexpectedly gentle. “If you go in there, just grab your sister and your brother. Drag them back here and block the door. Don't be stupid.”
With that, she was off.
Vi hated being dressed down, but it was deserved, and Kiramman was right. And the way she sounded at the last … Vi shook her head to empty it of thoughts of Kiramman. Alright then —
She took a deep breath, checked her wrist and hand bandages, remembered just where along the bar Claggor was slumped, and how close Sevika and The Prizefighter were to him and Powder, then crashed through the door. She battled to keep upright, succeeded and shouted at her sister. “Use it!” She trusted that Powder’s bar chompers were fairly small in terms of damage. Much as she might grin to see Sevika battered, bruised, bleeding, or worse, she knew they couldn’t risk that.
Powder didn’t nod, didn’t even look back at her. She pulled a pin on the chomper, and tossed it up in the air, where it exploded into pink shards of what Vi hoped wasn’t glass, and gave out a piercing whistle, almost a shriek. The result was spectacular, and pretty much what Vi had hoped for. Both Sevika and The Prizefighter clapped their hands over their ears, then flailed at the pink shards, which didn’t cut them, but did stick to them. That gave Vi the time she needed to grab Claggor’s other arm and hiss at Powder. “Into the back. Now.”
Her little sister looked as if she was about to resist — she was so much more self-assured now than when she was little — but she pursed her lips and concentrated on helping Vi drag Claggor to the door she’d just barreled through.
“I can walk,” Claggor wheezed. “Just need … a little help ….”
“You’ve got it. Now don’t talk,” Powder told him as the three of them shouldered the door aside and got into the back hall.
Vi turned and slammed the door shut. In the barroom, she could hear Sevika swearing. The increased shouting meant she couldn’t hear what the turncoat said to The Prizefighter, but she was pretty sure they were going to try to get in there, if only to grab and hurt Powder. And probably anyone in her vicinity.
“We need to block the door,” she said. “And get Claggor to bed.”
“I can —”
Vi had no time for this. “No. Step back, Clag.”
His face fell, but he understood. “OK.” He waved off Powder, and made his way alone to the tiny bedroom he shared with Mylo. Vi knew her other brother was at work, which was probably all for the best given his hair-trigger temper, but he might have come in handy now.
Let this be over quick enough that I can get Claggor stitched up. I can do it, I know I can. “The door,” Vi repeated. “Get something to shove under the door handle.”
“Agreed.” Powder pelted to their main room, and ran right into Talis.
“What the hell?” Powder said. She looked Talis up and down. “Be useful, Piltie — grab me your chair.”
Talis didn’t hesitate; everyone's actions in the last minute or so, especially Kiramman grabbing his coat, probably gave him a hint. “It’s heavy; where do you want it?”
Powder gestured with her head. Talis maneuvered himself and the chair past her and sprinted to where Vi waited, with her shoulder against the door. Vi heard pounding footsteps, and felt the wooden floor under their feet shake with the weight of people trying to break the door down.
“That isn’t going to hold very long,” Powder yelled to her older sister.
“No shit,” Vi panted.
Kiramman, Vander, whatever you’re going to do, do it now.
She re-braced her feet, then moved to make room for Talis. He jammed the chair under the door handle, and threw his own weight into the effort as well.
“The two of us can hold it,” he said. “At least for a little while. But who are we holding it against?”
Vi was astounded at how calmly the man adapted to a battle situation. What kind of Piltie was he? She spared a moment’s breath to answer him. “Silco’s enforcers. Trying to put the arm on The Lanes.”
“OK; not surprising.” He wasn’t out of breath, she noticed. “I wondered when — hold on a minute —” He stood back a couple of inches from the door, then slammed himself against it again. Vi heard more curses from the other side, just as she caught the sound of someone’s ass hitting the floor. Good thing Talis was on their side of the door, she thought.
Talis began again. “I wondered when that man would make his move on your neighborhood. That’s why I’m — damn, they’re persistent — why I’m here.”
“You’re probably why they’re here,” Vi managed.
“Yeah.” He was grim. “I waited too long.”
“Vi, are we getting any backup?” Powder was still defiant, but Vi caught the slightest wobble in her voice. “Do we need my bigger chompers?”
“We are, and no, we won’t need your chompers.” She tried to sound confident.
Talis, his back to the door, looked at her. “Where’s Caitlyn?”
“With Vander, I hope.”
The door shook again, and this time the chair slipped. Talis slammed it back under the handle.
Just as Vi wondered if they could hold the door any longer, or whether they should collect Claggor and all head for the rear exit, she heard the unmistakable percussive retort of a rifle shot from beyond their makeshift barrier. That was followed by silence.
“Here, let me get up to the transom,” she whispered. “Move.”
Talis obeyed her. “Let me know what you see.”
When she peered out into the barroom, she didn’t quite know at first what to make of what she saw. There was Vander, at the front door, wearing his old gauntlets — dirty and dented, and dangerous, and making his already huge arms even more impressive. Sevika’s own fists, even the metal arm she’d gained after some Shimmer processing plant explosion, looked puny by comparison, and the fury in her face made it obvious she knew that.
One of Sevika’s Shimmer-boosted thugs lay insensible on the floor to one side of Vander. The Prize Fighter was laid out to the other side, blood from his nose running down his chin. Vander looked at him, and kicked the man’s knife from his hand, picked it up, then straightened and turned back to Sevika.
This wasn’t Vander the father, or Vander the bar owner. This was The Hound of the Underground, and Vi loved him fiercely.
“I’d say it’s good to see you, Sevika, but it isn’t.” Vander turned a brutally savage grin on her.
She didn’t take her eyes off him. “You’re home early.” She tried to make that sound casual and failed utterly.
The bitch actually thought Vander wouldn’t be here. Don’t know where she thought he would be, probably should check for snitches, but her informants fucked up, and she knows it . Vi didn’t know how feral her own smile was.
Vi shifted her gaze, and felt something like happy surprise bubble up inside her, which she tamped down as quickly as she could.
Next to Vander, gun in one fist, rifle cradled in the crook of her arm and across her chest, was Kiramman. She’d pulled up the hood on Talis’ coat to cover her hair and much of her face; the disguise might actually work to prevent Sevika or her goons marking her as an Enforcer. She’d been the one to shoot, Vi knew. Since the two goons Vander took out seemed to be the only casualties, Vi figured Kiramman had shot at the ceiling.
Wish she’d taken out Sevika, but I can’t expect that from an Enforcer. She did manage to stop everyone in their tracks.
“Do we need to go in?”
Vi waved an impatient hand in Talis’ face. “No. Shh. I need to listen.”
“Sevika, you have one minute to get your … people —” Vander’s voice dripped loathing, “gathered up and out. Take a message to your master that he can stop testing our borders. Our agreement’s just a bit threadbare at this point, but I’m willing to renew it. He has one day to respond. If he doesn’t, I’ll look elsewhere for partners. Let him know that.”
He dropped one of the gauntlets, then bent down and grabbed The Prize Fighter by his blood-spattered shirt. The guy didn’t struggle as Vander pulled him upright.
“Oh, and Sevika? If I see your pet gorilla anywhere near The Last Drop, I will send him back to you in pieces. You don’t touch my kids, you don’t let your people touch them.”
So Kiramman had told Vander about Claggor, Vi thought.
Vander dragged the man to the front door; none of the Shimmer thugs tried to block his way. One of The Last Drop’s regulars straightened up and sidled past the one backing him into a wall, to open the door. It was Huck, Vi saw. Vander nodded his thanks, then pitched his semi-conscious burden into the street. Someone in the bar gave a low hoot of approval. No one joined in; it was still too fraught a situation to declare victory of any sort.
“Vi?”
Vi turned away from her transom view. “Yeah?”
Powder didn’t mince words. “Clag’s losing more blood. The bed’s soaked. Can I go get Allium? Is it safe for me to do it?”
Too much blood already, Vi thought again, tamping down panic. “Don’t know. Check the back, and if there’s no one around —”
“Nah. I’ll take the rooftop route.” Powder’s expression was intent; she was working that route in her head, and Vi knew better than to forbid her from doing it. She had to admit Powder’s aerial proclivity meant she could probably make it to Babette’s more safely above the streets than on them.
“How can you get to the roof?” Talis had relaxed just a little as Sevika’s men stopped trying to break the door down.
“Never you mind, Piltie,” Powder said. She softened that with the hint of a smile. “Just keep the damn door shut until Vander or Vi tell you to open it.”
Talis surprised both of them with a salute. Powder snorted. “Good to know you can learn, buddy. Vi, I’ll be back with Allium as soon as I can, OK?”
“OK.”
Powder ducked back into the main room, and Vi heard some banging and crashing; her little sister had her routes from their home to the rooftops in places Vi didn’t know about and couldn't spot. One of them apparently started there.
Just as Vi turned back to the transom, a chorus of screams and shouts flared beyond the door. That didn’t bode well. She shoved her face as far through the little window as she could.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck —
Two of the last Shimmer goons had Vander in a choke hold from behind — they must have blown all their drug-induced speed and strength in ambushing him so completely, she thought, as panic-fueled rage once again made the blood pound in her ears. Sevika looked as shocked as everyone else in the room. Vander’s second gauntlet was on the floor; he couldn’t move, and one of his captors had a knife to his throat.
Where was Kiramman?
Vi couldn’t spot her for a moment. Her thoughts became even more frantic; then she saw the Enforcer sprawled face down on the floor behind Vander. They’d apparently taken her by surprise, too, and they were ignoring her as they focused on Vander. That was a mistake. The woman’s gun and rifle had been knocked from her hands, but as Vi threw the door to the barroom open, leaping from her transom perch and shouldering Talis aside, Kiramman made a successful grab for the rifle.
She didn’t waste time trying to get to her feet. Instead, she somehow managed to bring the rifle to one shoulder, peer along its sight and pulled the trigger while she was prone, something Vi hadn’t known was possible.
How does she do that?
One of the Shimmer twins grunted and grabbed his right knee, falling to one side and losing his grip on Vander. Before either Vander or the other goon could fully react, Kiramman got off a second shot.
The second goon cried out in pain, clapping one hand to a bleeding shoulder as he fell to the floor. Vi thought she felt her bones vibrate with that reverberation, as it overtook the first shot’s thunderous retort.
Vander was free.
He closed the gap between him and Sevika, and yanked her up with both hands, bringing her face to his and leaving her feet dangling almost a foot off the floor. “I could snap your neck right now.” His face was bestial, even as his voice stayed calm. It barely carried to where Vi stood motionless.
Sevika didn’t struggle, didn’t say anything.
Vander spoke again. “I won’t.
“I’ll just take this.” With that, he ripped her metal arm off.
The sound was almost indescribable; a metal groan and a ragged wet suck as Sevika’s flesh tore. She screamed once and slumped unconscious.
Vander dropped her, then pointed to one of her men who stood stock still near one barroom wall, eyes wide as he took in the scene. “You. Take her.”
The man, his once-purple eyes fading, did so. Unbidden, the two remaining henchmen came and picked up their wounded compatriots. They left The Last Drop, not stopping to pick up Sevika’s arm.
The ensuing silence was surreal.
“Can someone help me up?” Kiramman’s voice was strained. Vi looked at her closely as she struggled to stand, and realized she had a gash across one of those cut-glass cheekbones. A bruise was already blooming around the wound.
She didn’t stop to think, not about how grateful she was to Kiramman, not about how beautiful Kiramman looked despite her injuries. She dashed forward past Vander, and leaned down to haul the other woman up to her feet.
“Thank you.” Her voice was low, but she wanted to make certain Kiramman could hear it. “You saved him.”
The Enforcer managed a pained smile. “Just doing my job … but I’m glad I could help.”
Just then, Powder threw the rear door open. “Allium’s here; says Claggor’s gonna be fine with a couple of poultices and little bed rest ….” She trailed off after spotting Vander, whose face was speckled with Sevika’s blood. “Uh — you okay, Vander?”
“I’m fine, kiddo.” He'd lost the bestial glare that had frightened Vi; although he looked a little pale under the blood, his beard hid most of the pallor, she thought. No one else would see it, nor would they see the tremor in his shoulders and fingers. Vi knew that tremor; she got it after hard fights.
The arm didn’t clang when he dropped it on the wooden floor and retreated a step or two to the actual bar. He banged on it, hard. “Show’s over, folks. Drink up and go home safely.
“Tell your friends what happened here. Tell ‘em I’m still not letting Silco come into The Lanes, especially not after tonight. If you want to help with that, come back day after tomorrow. We’ll talk about it. The Lanes stand together. Now scoot.” He raised his hand and brought it down on the bar top once, twice, three times.
“The Lanes stand together,” someone shouted in response. It was Huck. “The Lanes stand together!”
Vi fought a snort. Good for you, you little creep. Sometimes even weirdos like you can be brave.
Others joined Huck’s chant. Vander smiled and let it go for a minute. Then he held up his hand. Everyone quieted. “Alright, alright. Head on home, everyone. Stay safe.”
This time, patrons took the hint and trickled out by ones, twos, and little groups. Once the place was empty, Vander stopped standing straight, and bent over the bar top, breathing heavily. Vi waited until he looked up. “We’ve got a lot of trouble coming in the next little while.”
She nodded; no need to talk about it now. They’d be ready for trouble when it came, but everyone needed a rest. “You should go in and see Claggor. But you should probably wipe your face. He’ll get all worried about you; you know him. And Vander? What do you want me to do with that thing?” Vi jerked a thumb at the arm.
He looked. “Huh. They didn't take it with them. I guess you could wipe it off and stick it behind the bar for now. She’s probably going to want it back.”
“You going to give it to her?”
“Don’t know.” Just before he headed back to see his injured son, he turned. “Enforcer Kiramman, I’m grateful. Without you, people could have died. You think fast.”
The woman probably didn’t know how big a compliment she’d just been given, Vi thought. Or maybe she did; that ( really, really pretty ) blush spread across her face. “That’s what we’re here for, Mr. Vander.”
Vi rolled her eyes, but didn’t snicker.
“Just Vander,” he said with a weary smile. “As for you, your cut needs looking at. Come back and let Allium work on it.” Vander said.
As he said it, Talis entered the barroom. He didn’t apologize for not barging in and letting Sevika know the rumors were true, that a Piltover Council member was in The Lanes for treaty talks. “Perhaps our next chat could happen somewhere a little safer,” he said with admirable understatement. “But that can wait. Your son’s refusing a sedative until he sees you.” He stopped. “They moved him from that bed to one that isn’t bloody. You’re definitely going to have to do a lot of cleaning in there.”
Then he saw the arm. “Dear lord. That used to be attached to Silco’s office manager.”
“Yes it did. She’s not really his office manager,” Vander said.
“No, I don’t suppose she is,” Talis said heavily. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to give it back?”
“I asked the same thing,” Vi said. “We don’t know.”
“Well then.” Talis said nothing for a minute. “I think we’ll stay here for a little while longer. Perhaps once everyone’s recovered a little — including you, Caitlyn. Do what Vander said and let his healer —”
“Not my healer, but a healer and a friend,” Vander said.
“ —and let the healer, Allium, staunch the bleeding. You look a fright.”
“I feel like one, Jayce,” the woman responded, probably unaware that she was yet again showing that she and Talis were obviously good friends, not simply official and subordinate. “But I’ll be alright.”
“I know.” He looked relieved, and headed back into the rear of the building.
Kiramman, who by now was leaning heavily onto Vi, watched him go then said softly, “I’m sorry I was such a prat early on.”
All sorts of things occurred to Vi; jokes, snide insults, the kind of things she might have indulged in when the night began. “Don’t worry about it. I was a snot to you, too.”
They both looked a little surprised when they laughed at the same time.
Vi nudged Kiramman. “Let’s get you inside.”
“That’s a good idea. And … Vi?”
“Yeah?”
“Call me Caitlyn. And when the fight happens, because it’s going to, we both know it.
“You won’t be alone.”
*** *** ***
Years later, when peace came, and the two of them shared each other's lives, a night came when Vi looked up from Caitlyn’s lap and touched her lover’s face.
“You were right, you know.”
“About what?”
“You told me, that night in the bar, that I wouldn’t be alone. You kept your word.”
-30-
