Piltover - Private Council Room
In the dim light of the private council room, tension gripped the air like a drawn wire. The room was adorned with polished mahogany, dark corners, and luxurious seating, a place designed for quiet discussions of power, yet it felt ominous today. At the massive central table, the city's most influential figures gathered, each of them tense, watchful, and at odds with one another.
At the table's left side, Shoola leans back in her chair, her arms crossed and her face turned away from the others. She stands, braced against the back of her chair, her expression hardened as she spits out her words.
"How did they sneak so many of these... things to the ceremony?" Her voice cuts through the silence, tinged with frustration and disbelief. "I thought we took every measure to secure it?"
Her words hang in the air for a beat. Standing at the table's head, Mel Medarda, with an elegant but steely demeanor, absorbs the question. The frustration is shared, but her answer is calculated, tempered with a measured calm.
"They must have had help," Mel replies, her voice cool and controlled. "From someone up here."
Salo, sitting on the right side of the table, shifts forward, his eyes narrowing. He speaks with an edge of urgency, pressing forward the weight of his stance.
"We can't afford any more hesitation," he declares. "If we don't defend ourselves with Hextech, our principles mean nothing."
Mel's gaze drops as she sinks into thought, her expression serious. Her focus sharpens as she weighs Salo's words, and the gravity of the situation settles across the room like an uninvited shadow. In this silence, the council members feel the enormity of the decisions before them.
Mel spoke but nothing came after, "I..."
But the silence doesn't last. The double doors suddenly swing open, and everyone in the room turns sharply, alerted by the commanding presence marching toward them. Caitlyn Kiramman strides into the room, her Enforcer uniform crisp and her iconic white beret pristine, worn with both pride and purpose. Her stride is brisk, her aura radiating authority, as her eyes sweep across the room.
"We aren't prepared for a full-scale invasion," Caitlyn announces, her voice clear and unwavering. "The Undercity's attack proved that."
Her words drop like stones in a pond, sending ripples of unease through the room. Salo's gaze hardens, and he straightens, his tone as sharp as a blade. "This is a closed council meeting," he says coldly. "Who let you in here?"
From the shadows, a voice echoes back, its tone dripping with defiance.
"Doesn't matter who let us in."
The entire council shifts their gaze, and from the darkened corner steps Frank Woods, his presence as intimidating as the sleek M27 Assault Rifle he holds with practiced ease. The weapon hums with the blue glow of Hextech, casting an eerie light over the room. Next to him, Alex Mason stands firm, his own M16 reflecting the same Hextech luminescence, adding to the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
Unfazed, Caitlyn steps forward, her hands steady as she leans them on the table, meeting Salo's gaze and the other Councilors directly. Her expression is resolute, and she speaks with an authority earned through countless battles and a legacy of loyalty to her house.
"I am a decorated officer," Caitlyn states firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Leader of House Kiramman. Address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut."
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Woods, observing her unyielding stance, smirks. His finger taps lightly against the side of his rifle as he raises it just enough to aim directly at Salo's face, the barrel glinting in the low light.
"That means you, asshole," he growls, enjoying the flinch his words draw from Salo.
The council chamber holds its breath as the tense standoff electrifies the room, the weight of decisions yet to come echoing in the silence that follows.
Caitlyn's eyes narrowed, her gaze unwavering as she leaned closer to the table, the weight of her authority pressing down on the room.
"I will lead a strike team into Zaun with three objectives: locate Jinx, dismantle shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco."
Her words struck a nerve, reverberating through the room as the council members exchanged glances, each one processing the implications of her plan. Mason, who stood with the ease of a seasoned soldier, nodded firmly and added in a tone that held no room for debate.
"Which includes anyone part of this operation," he said, his voice edged with determination. "Sevika, Alex Mercer..."
Woods, standing just behind Caitlyn, let a slow, dark smile cross his face as he finished Mason's thought, his voice thick with intent.
"...and Raul Menendez."
The names hung in the air like a curse, conjuring the specter of dangerous enemies lurking within Zaun's underbelly. The council members shifted uncomfortably, the weight of these targets making it clear that this mission would be no ordinary skirmish.
Salo, undeterred, leaned forward in his seat, his expression skeptical as he regarded Caitlyn.
"And what makes you think the three of you fare any better than our forces today?" he challenged, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
Without missing a beat, Caitlyn straightened, her gaze steady and unflinching.
"We've got a few surprises of our own," she replied coolly, her voice carrying a quiet, unshakable confidence.
The tension in the room thickened as Caitlyn caught her rifle mid-air, thrown with precision by Maddie. The weapon came to life in Caitlyn's hands, the Hex gem embedded within glowing with an ethereal blue light. With practiced ease, Caitlyn extended the barrel, a soft mechanical click signaling its readiness. The weapon's three sights snapped into place, an unmistakable sign of its cutting-edge design. She held it firm, her eyes flickering with determination.
Next to her, Loris stepped forward, his shield unfolding from its compact form. It's translucent surface deceptively delicate but capable of withstanding devastating force. Maddie stood beside him, her uniform spotless, her stance disciplined. She pulled a pair of smoke canisters from her side, preparing them with a casual confidence.
Steb adjusted his gear silently, his demeanor calm but purposeful. Each movement carried precision, and his readiness was palpable.
In the back, Mason and Woods checked their weapons. The blue gemstone embedded in each rifle pulsed rhythmically as they prepared their firearms. Their military expertise was evident in every movement—the quick, efficient motions of men who had survived countless battlefields. Mason adjusted the sights on his M16, the rifle humming softly with the Hextech power coursing through it. Woods, ever the wildcard, smirked as he tested the weight of his M27, its glow casting faint shadows against the room's walls.
Across the room, Shoola and Mel exchanged uneasy glances. The team before them looked formidable, but the stakes were monumental, and even the most well-prepared strike team could face ruin if they underestimated Zaun's dangers. Still, Caitlyn's confidence carried a magnetism that demanded trust.
Then, from the shadows, another figure emerged. The faint whirring of machinery accompanied her entrance, and smoke hissed out as her gauntlets came to life. Vi's iconic Hextech gauntlets glowed with raw power, the blue energy within them pulsating like a heartbeat. She walked with deliberate steps, her Enforcer badge glinting at her waist—a badge that represented not just her role, but the conviction of someone who had lived and bled in the conflict between Piltover and Zaun.
Vi stopped beside Caitlyn, her gaze sweeping over the room, lingering briefly on Mel before locking eyes with Salo. Her presence was commanding, her mere stance exuding unyielding determination. She cracked her knuckles against the gauntlets, the sound echoing ominously.
The strike team now stood assembled in full force: Caitlyn Kiramman, Alex Mason, Maddie Nolan, Loris, Steb, Frank Woods, and Vi—a lineup brimming with skill, resolve, and advanced Hextech weaponry. Together, they were an imposing sight, each member carrying an aura of purpose that transcended words.
The council members could only watch in silence as Caitlyn's strike team solidified before them, a living embodiment of the resolve Piltover needed to confront the looming threats of Zaun.