Caitlyn walked home from work through the grittier streets of Piltover, the kind she rarely frequented. She decided on a longer route tonight, hoping the cool air would clear her head. “What did you think you’d accomplish?” Marcus’s words from the previous year echoed relentlessly in her head. They replayed like a mocking refrain as her boot scuffed against an empty shimmer vial lying in the gutter.
This area was among the worst in Piltover—still not Zaun, but close enough that shimmer soaked through its pores. The problem had grown since last year, and the enforcers seemed powerless against it. Caitlyn clenched her fists, anger bubbling up at the thought. Powerless? No, complacent. She felt like the enforcers and the council had no interest in fixing anything. She stepped through the creaking door of a worn out building—a squat, hollowed out and ravaged by desperation.
These buildings had cropped up all over the city like a rash. Every time she saw one, it felt like the city itself was falling ill a little more. The shimmer was getting more and more popular, and yet her colleagues treated it like an unfortunate inconvenience, not the crisis it was. She scowled, recalling how her argument with Marcus had ended with her stuck on desk duty for a year. A petty revenge after her unauthorized mission. A week’s suspension hadn’t been enough for him; he’d stripped her of any real responsibility, reducing her to paperwork. She still didn’t know how exactly he got to know about it.
She kicked a loose rock across the floor, frustration surging. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. It wasn't in her duties to check houses like this one. The enforcers were even advised against taking action on their own, especially in places like this. But she was tired of being told to look the other way. Her mother had told her to leave enforcers behind, to find something “more worthwhile” to focus on. But Caitlyn wasn’t a quitter. Failure didn’t scare her. She spent the past year training in secret, pouring over reports and maps, building her knowledge of Zaun’s criminal underbelly. Desk duty couldn’t stop her from training after hours.
The door creaked as she walked inside. It looked abandoned. She put her hand on the handle of the pistol just in case. The ground floor was empty, but the air reeked of mildew. She climbed a set of rotting wooden stairs that creaked beneath her weight. Paint peeled from the walls, and parts of the banister had been gnawed away by time and insects.
The first two rooms she checked were empty. The floors were littered with drug leftovers, old newspapers, and a handful of rusted tools no street thief would bother with.
Caitlyn froze when she heard a faint gasp. She pressed her back against the wall, pistol in hand, and approached cautiously. Inside was a man, barely out of childhood, his gaunt face ravaged by shimmer’s cruel grip. He lay slumped against the wall, shrouded in a patchwork blanket that failed to hide the tremors racking his body. His breaths were shallow, each one a wheeze dragged from a failing chest.
“Ora? Is that you?” he rasped, his glazed eyes searching in vain for a familiar face.
“No. I’m Caitlyn. I’m here to help,” she said softly, her grip on the pistol tightening. It was never clear who needed help and who was a danger. Sometimes it was the same person.
“Help? No... no help!” His voice cracked as he recoiled, pressing feebly against the wall as though to flee. “Ora, I just, I need time. I promise. I got a job—a good one this time. We can live like you always wanted.”
Caitlyn’s heart sank. His words tumbled out in a delusional haze, his body too weak to follow the urgency of his voice. The blanket slipped from his shoulders, revealing a grotesque shimmer infection bloomed across his chest. Blisters oozed, the skin around them blackened and raw. No one could survive such an infection. He was as good as dead.
“Please... don’t leave me, Ora. I’ll change, I swear.” His words grew quieter, punctuated by wet, rattling coughs. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Caitlyn swallowed hard, feeling her heart sunk as she forced herself to speak. “I’m here,” she said softly.
The man smiled faintly, his breathing shallow but steadying as if her presence had calmed him. “Good. Just a few more minutes... and I’ll be ready,” he murmured.
‘I'll be here.’ She couldn't say anything more, watching as the light met the man's eyes and he took his last breath. His chest didn't rise again
She stood there, powerless, as his breathing slowed, then stopped. His eyes dimmed, the last light of his life flickering out like a candle. Caitlyn stared at him, paralyzed, as the weight of what she’d witnessed pressed down on her. She’d heard about cases like this before, but nothing could prepare her for watching someone slip away, alone and broken.
His life slipped away with the wind howling through the cracks in the wall.
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“You did what?!” Marcus’s roar jolted Caitlyn back to the present. He stood behind his desk, face red with fury.
“I checked the squat,” she said firmly, though her hands trembled slightly. “It was shimmer-related, and—”
“And it wasn’t your job!” Marcus slammed his fist down on the desk. “You’re on desk duty, Caitlyn. Do you think being a councilor’s daughter means the rules don’t apply to you?”
“I just wanted to help—”
“Well, you didn’t. Did you change anything by being there? No! All you did was waste time on something that doesn’t concern you. Do you think we have the resources to waste on junkies who make poor decisions?”
His words struck like a slap. Caitlyn clenched her fists. “A man died in Piltover! We should be finding the supply, cutting it off at the source—”
“Enough!” Marcus barked. “You’re suspended. For a month. Leave your badge and your pistol. Now.”
Caitlyn’s vision blurred with fury as she slammed them onto his desk. “Fine.”
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Later, Caitlyn sat in her apartment, still in her uniform, the map of her private investigation spread out before her.
“Fucking Marcus” she murmured. He didn’t want to investigate the case.
Her head rested in her hands as frustration churned in her gut. Marcus didn’t care. Maybe he was afraid. Or maybe... she turned her head looking at the part of her map where she tracked a small dealer in the docks who didn't run away from her almost as if expecting her to ignore him. She rubbed her temple.
Maybe Marcus wasn't afraid of it. Maybe he just didn't want to fight it. The thought sent a chill down her spine. She didn't want to believe it, but just entertaining the thought made me feel uneasy. If that was the case, the fight would not only be against the enemy outside, but the enemy within. That was a much harder fight. She didn't want to admit that the enforcers were corrupted. They were supposed to keep the peace, to help the people. But she had witnessed enough of her mothers machinations to know that what was on the outside rarely met the true intentions.
Her eyes fell to a pink dot on the map. A lead she’d avoided chasing. That woman. The one who’d mentioned Silco. Caitlyn had dismissed her claims as misinformation before, but now… Silco was a respected industrialist, a known philanthropist. But the memory kept going back to her sometimes.
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She sighed, exhaustion dragging her eyelids shut. She had to pursue this. Only more and more people were going to end up the same way as the man from the house if no one would care. She felt sleep creeping upon her and didn’t have the strength to fight it. Her dreams were submerged in pink.
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Jace visited the next morning. Of course, he did. Caitlyn was certain her mother had orchestrated this little visit, as she always did what she thought was “best for Caitlyn”.
“Why don’t we go to the park?” Jace asked with his usual warmth. “Grab a coffee, enjoy the weather, just the two of us. We haven’t spent time together lately, and I’ve missed you.”
She agreed, though reluctantly.
The weather was admittedly beautiful. It was late summer, the kind of day where the leaves clung to their vibrant green, though the air hinted at the crispness of approaching autumn. The streets of Piltover gleamed under the sunlight, making even the rough edges of the city seem softer, almost idyllic. Almost.
“How have you been?” Jace asked as they strolled. “You look stressed. Is everything okay?”
Caitlyn tightened her grip on her coffee cup, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Did my mother put you up to this?”
Jace’s sheepish grin gave him away immediately. He scratched the back of his neck with guilt. “Uh... kind of?”
Her irritation softened. She could never stay mad at Jace for long.
“I heard about your suspension,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
Caitlyn let out a long sigh. The weight of her frustration pressed down on her. “It’s just... I know there’s something there, Jace. I can feel it.” She gestured animatedly with her free hand, her voice rising with emotion. “But every time I try to grasp at it, it slips through my fingers. Someone is flooding Piltover with shimmer, and no one is doing a damned thing about it!”
Jace stopped walking and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. His steady presence was both grounding and frustrating in its steadiness. “Cait, listen to me,” he said, his tone low and earnest. “I know you care. Everyone can see that. But you’ve got to take it easy. People are fighting it—it’s just not always visible. I’m sure the sheriff has his reasons, his agenda. You just have to be patient.”
Caitlyn let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he has an agenda all right.”
Jace frowned but didn’t press. “Just... maybe take this time to rest? Treat it like a vacation. You haven’t taken one since... well, since forever. It’d do you good.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And if, after that, you still want to pursue this, I’ll help however I can. I promise.”
Some of the tension in Caitlyn’s shoulders eased at his sincerity. She took a sip of her coffee, the warm bitterness grounding her, if only slightly. Maybe Jace was right—she did have a tendency to fixate on things too much.
“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” Jace suggested with a bright smile. “I’ll make lasagna, and we can have an evening like the old days. With Victor and Mel. What do you think?”
Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile back, despite the heaviness weighing on her. “That sounds good.”
But no matter how hard she tried, Caitlyn couldn’t shake the memory of the man in the squat. The image of him taking his final, desperate breaths haunted her, the scene playing over and over in her mind. That man would never have another chance for dinner or laughter or vacations. No one had cared enough to give him one.
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Caitlyn left Jace’s place later that evening, the warmth of their meal and laughter lingering faintly in her chest. But the memory of that dying man refused to leave her.
She made her decision.
The air in Zaun always felt different. Heavier. It clung to Caitlyn’s lungs like a thick mist, steeped in the acrid stench of industry and decay. This part of the city was alive in a way Piltover never was, but it wasn’t a comforting vitality—it was chaotic, untamed, and dangerous.
Caitlyn pulled her cloak tighter around herself, blending in as best as she could. Her uniform and enforcer badge were safely left behind in Piltover. Here, they would only make her a target. She’d exchanged her typical polished look for something more practical—worn boots, dark trousers, and a plain jacket. Even so, she felt out of place. Zaun had a way of making outsiders keenly aware of their differences.
She made her way through narrow, winding streets, her senses on high alert. Her map had brought her here—an intersection in the docks district where she believed shimmer supplies were moving. She hoped to find the dealer boy she’d encountered before or anyone who might know more.
Fire was lit and some people gathered in groups, clearly with shady business going on. She didn't understand why no patrols were here, it was still the border of the two cities. But given her latest experiences she wasn't about to go and ask Marcus.
The crackling of the fires mixed With the waves and the air was more salty than in the parts of the city she frequented.
She realized that she didn't think it through. Suspicious faces looked at her. She thought it would be easier to blend in, but the groups were hostile to newcomers no matter what they looked like. only one thing came to her mind.
Caitlyn’s heart pounded as she stood there, the heat of the fire warming her back but doing little to thaw the cold dread pooling in her stomach.
She walked up to one of the groups, her dark wig scratching her scalp, she hoped it did not slide to be visible. A large woman’s warning stare hung in the air like an unspoken threat, and Caitlyn could feel the weight of the group’s collective gaze boring into her. She swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for the next move.
She couldn’t afford to back down—not now. This was her lead, and even if she was dangerously out of her depth, she had to find something to go on.
“I—” she began, hesitating. She bit her lip, as though deliberating, and forced a quiver into her voice. She figured that the only way they would buy her act was to lean into her in experience and feign desperation. “I don’t want trouble. I just need... I need to buy. Please.”
The large woman raised an eyebrow, her skepticism plain. “You heard wrong,” she said gruffly. “Go home, girl, before you get yourself into something you can’t handle.”
Caitlyn clenched her fists to keep her hands from trembling, fighting to maintain her composure. The woman’s dismissal stung, but she refused to let it show. She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a whisper as if to signal she was speaking confidentially.
“I’m serious. I’ve got money.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill, enough to make her look desperate but not suspiciously wealthy. “I know you’ve got shimmer. Please.”
The group exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, the large woman sighed, clearly annoyed. “You’re new to this, huh? You don’t come here flashing cash and begging like that. Stupid’ll get you killed out here.”
Caitlyn’s heart raced as she wondered if she’d blown her cover completely, but the woman nodded to a lanky, sharp-faced man standing nearby. “Take her to Jax.”
The man grinned—too widely, too eagerly—and motioned for Caitlyn to follow. “Come on. Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.”
Caitlyn hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn and run. But she couldn’t. Not when she was this close. She forced herself to move, keeping her expression neutral as she followed the man down a shadowy alleyway that reeked of salt and decay.
They stopped in front of a decrepit boathouse, the wooden door hanging off its hinges. The man glanced over his shoulder, his grin twisting into something more predatory. “Wait here.”
Before Caitlyn could respond, he slipped inside, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence. She scanned the area, her pulse quickening as she noted how isolated the boathouse was. No witnesses. No escape routes.
A faint creak drew her attention to the door as it swung open. A lone figure emerged, clad in a hooded coat that obscured their face. They held a small vial between their gloved fingers, its contents glowing faintly blue in the dim light.
“You’re the one asking about shimmer?” the figure asked, their voice low and distorted, as if intentionally masked. “Then listen carefully. Tomorrow night, midnight. Warehouse 47, by the old crane. Come alone.”
Caitlyn nodded, her throat dry. “And you’ll have it?”
“You’ll get what you’re looking for.” The figure’s tone shifted, colder now.
Without another word, the figure disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Caitlyn with nothing but the faint glow of the vial etched into her memory. She exhaled shakily, the weight of the encounter settling over her.
But as she turned to leave, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A shadow detached itself from the alley wall, and a flash of silver caught the firelight.
She wasn’t alone anymore.