Piltover - Council Room

The grand chamber of Piltover's Council Room was thick with tension. On the left side of the room stood the Enforcers and Marines, clad in their polished blue armor, their expressions as steely as their discipline demanded. Caitlyn Kiramman stood among them, her posture rigid, her fists clenched behind her back, barely containing the fury simmering beneath her calm exterior. On the opposite side of the room, Ambessa Medarda's Noxian soldiers loomed in their crimson armor, their faces obscured by imposing masks that rendered them more machine than man.

Ambessa Medarda herself stood at the center of the room, commanding attention with her towering presence and sharp, commanding voice.

"An innocent life has been taken," she began, her tone resonant and firm. "Your memorial has been made a massacre."

A wave of discomfort rippled through the gathered families and councilors. Caitlyn's hands tightened further, her nails digging into her palms. Behind her, Enforcer Loris noticed her simmering rage, his glance a silent question she chose to ignore.

Ambessa continued, her voice rising above the murmurs. "But no more." She paused for effect, her eyes scanning the room before gesturing dramatically toward the chamber's entrance. "Not only have I brought myself to resolve this crisis, but I have brought an ally. Someone who will help us ensure the safety of Piltover against Jinx and Zaun."

The doors swung open with a resonating thud, and all eyes turned as the figure entered.

The figure was massive—an imposing Jiralhanae, his bulk clad in battle-worn armor, a Gravity Hammer slung across his shoulder like a casual burden. Flanking him were two more Brutes, their weapons—sleek, alien Storm Rifles—gleaming ominously. Their presence filled the room with a palpable sense of danger.

Tracer, standing among the Enforcers, leaned toward Viper, her voice a low hiss of disbelief. "Is that Atriox?"

Councilor Terrance, standing at the far end of the chamber, furrowed his brow deeply as he recognized the figure. "No..." he muttered under his breath.

Across the room, a grizzled veteran, Avery J. Johnson, took a step forward, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "What in the hell..." His words dripped with disdain, a soldier's instinctive mistrust for a figure like Atriox.

The Brute leader moved with deliberate strides around the grand table in the center of the room, finally stopping beside Ambessa. He turned to face the crowd, his presence commanding, his gravelly voice resonating with cold confidence.

"I am Atriox," he announced. "Leader of the Banished."

The room erupted into murmurs, voices overlapping in a mixture of fear, confusion, and outrage.

Ambessa raised a hand, commanding silence, and the voices fell into uneasy quiet. She began a discussion with Atriox, her tone firm, confident, as though this was an ordinary negotiation rather than an alliance with a warlord from another world. Atriox spoke again, his words blunt and unwavering. "We will ensure Piltover is protected from Jinx and the degenerates of Zaun."

The murmurs began again, louder this time. From the back of the room, a voice shouted out, "Bullshit!" It was Woods, his rugged face set in a scowl.

Johnson stepped forward, his tone sharp and accusatory. "Do you all know who he is? He's a warlord. He isn't here to restore order—he's here to take control!"

Ambessa, unbothered by the outburst, ignored them. Her eyes remained fixed on her goal. She walked toward the raised steps at the front of the room, her voice cutting through the dissent like a blade.

"Wrath must be met with wrath."

Her words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. Some of the crowd murmured in agreement, others in doubt. Ambessa's steps echoed as she approached Salo, a respected figure in Piltover, seated in his wheelchair. She addressed him directly, her voice softer but no less commanding.

"You must declare martial law," she said. "Appoint a general to lead until the threat is vanquished."

Her words were a challenge, a call to action. She turned back to the crowd, her gaze sweeping over them. "Someone who will not pale when faced with Zaun's degeneracy. Whose conviction never wavers. A pillar of your community whose house has always stood for progress."

Ambessa's speech carried her across the room, her presence magnetic as she continued. "Who may consider my experience and my entire detachment of Noxian soldiers, at their disposal."

The Noxian soldiers shifted in unison, their armor clinking as they stood at attention. The sound was a reminder of their discipline and lethality.

"And," she added, her voice rising, "consider the strength of Atriox's forces. Brutes whose power is unmatched, whose resolve will crush the chaos of Jinx and Zaun."

As if on cue, one of the Brutes flanking Atriox growled low, a deep, guttural sound that resonated through the chamber. The other raised his Storm Rifle slightly, a subtle but deliberate display of readiness. Atriox himself slammed his Gravity Hammer lightly onto the ground, the sound reverberating like thunder through the room.

The room descended into silence once more, the weight of Ambessa's words and the presence of Atriox's forces leaving no room for argument. The crowd exchanged glances, some filled with fear, others with reluctant agreement.

Ambessa Medarda's voice rang out again, her tone firm and unyielding. "Until all our families are safe."

The statement hung in the air, heavy with implication. Near the back of the room, Mason, standing beside Woods, muttered under his breath, loud enough to be heard by a few around him. "Safe, my ass." His words carried disdain, his skepticism echoing the sentiment of many in the room.

Ambessa, as if expecting the challenge, pressed on without missing a beat. Her voice took on a measured cadence, her words sharp and deliberate. "Of course," she said, her tone shifting to something almost theatrical, "I could only be referring to..."

She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd with a calculated slowness, letting the tension build with each passing second. All eyes were on her, the room growing unnervingly silent. Salo, seated in his wheelchair, smirked, assuming the honor would fall upon him. He leaned forward slightly, his posture proud, his confidence radiating as he prepared to respond.

Ambessa's gaze stopped, her eyes locking onto a single figure. With a deliberate movement, she raised her arm and pointed.

"Caitlyn Kiramman."

A collective gasp rippled through the chamber. Caitlyn's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. Her composure wavered, her usual calm shattered by the unexpected declaration. Maddie and Steb that we're beside her took at glanced at each other and back to Caitlyn.

Salo, realizing he had been overlooked, gasped as well. He attempted to push himself up from his wheelchair, his indignation boiling over. Before he could fully rise, Rictus, one of the towering Noxian soldiers and Ambessa's right-hand man, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. The soldier's cold gaze bore into Salo, his expression devoid of sympathy.

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Rictus leaned closer, his presence intimidating, and Salo's protests died in his throat as he slumped back into his chair, seething. The rest of the room watched in stunned silence.

Terrance, standing among the Council members, broke the quiet with his sharp voice. "With all due respect, Caitlyn Kiramman will not become the general just so you can enforce your martial laws, Ambessa." His words were heavy with disdain, his tone unyielding as he glared at her.

Before Ambessa could respond, Atriox intervened. The Brute leader raised his Gravity Hammer slightly and brought it down with a deliberate thud, the sound reverberating through the chamber like distant thunder. The gesture restored order instantly, silencing murmurs and protests alike. His growl was low but commanding as he spoke. "Silence," he ordered, his voice like gravel grinding against steel.

Master Chief, who had been standing behind Terrance, took a step forward, his imposing figure catching the attention of everyone in the room. His green armor gleamed under the chamber's lights, the gold visor of his helmet reflecting the tension in the air. He moved closer to Atriox, his movements deliberate, the tension between the two palpable.

Terrance noticed the motion and quickly raised a hand, his voice firm. "Stand down, Master Chief."

Master Chief hesitated, his visor tilting down slightly to regard Terrance, then back up at Atriox. The silence between the three was almost deafening. Atriox smirked, his sharp teeth flashing as his growl deepened, a clear challenge unspoken.

Ambessa stepped forward to diffuse the moment, addressing Terrance directly. "Councilor Terrance, I assure you," she said, her tone shifting to one of calculated diplomacy, "with Caitlyn by my side—and Atriox's—Piltover will have the leadership and strength it needs to ensure the safety of its people."

Terrance opened his mouth to argue, but Ambessa cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "But safety cannot come without order. Martial law must be enforced. Only then will Piltover's walls hold against the chaos of Zaun."

She gestured toward Caitlyn, who stood frozen, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "Caitlyn is not just a Kiramman. She is a symbol of justice, of what Piltover stands for. Who better to lead in a time of crisis?"

Caitlyn's mind raced as the room descended into hushed murmurs once again. She glanced at the faces around her—some nodding in hesitant agreement, others scowling in outright defiance. Her gaze lingered on her fellow Enforcers, then on the imposing figure of Atriox. Her fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding. This was not a role she had asked for, nor one she wanted, but the choice was rapidly being made for her.

The murmurs in the room swelled, a chaotic undercurrent of doubt and anxiety rippling through the crowd. Atriox stepped forward, his towering presence demanding attention. His deep voice boomed, silencing the noise.

"If no one wishes to speak up," Atriox growled, his tone carrying both menace and finality, "then it is time to decide."

The room quieted again, but the discontent was palpable. Among the Enforcers, Ezio leaned toward Viper, Tracer, and Octane, his voice low but urgent. "Martial law will not work," he said, his tone laced with conviction. "It'll only make Piltover worse. The people won't stand for it, and neither should we."

Viper frowned, her expression thoughtful but conflicted. Tracer gave a subtle nod of agreement, while Octane's characteristic energy seemed subdued, his usual bravado dampened by the gravity of the situation.

Ambessa, still holding her hand out toward Caitlyn, slowly curled her fingers into a fist. She brought the fist to her chest with deliberate force, a gesture of solidarity and resolve. Then, with a sharp movement, she slammed her fist against her armored chest, the sound ringing out like a war drum.

She repeated the motion, her movements rhythmic and precise. The Noxian soldiers, disciplined and loyal, mirrored her gesture. The collective sound of fists striking armor filled the chamber, a thunderous, synchronized rhythm that carried an undeniable weight. The sound seemed to grow louder, reverberating through the room with an almost hypnotic effect.

Atriox, watching Ambessa's display, followed suit in his own commanding way. He raised his Gravity Hammer slightly before slamming it onto the ground with calculated force, the impact shaking the floor and syncing with the rhythm of the Noxian soldiers' pounding fists. His Brutes joined in, growling in encouragement, their guttural sounds blending with the escalating thunder of the gesture.

The slamming intensified, the rhythm quickening. The Enforcers exchanged uncertain glances, caught in the moment's pressure. Maddie and Loris looked around, their apprehension visible. Mason, standing near them, sneered. "What the hell is this shit?" he muttered, his disdain evident.

Caitlyn stood still, her thoughts a storm of conflict and fury. Her eyes darted to Terrance, who leaned slightly toward her and whispered urgently, "Caitlyn. If you do this, blood will be shed."

His warning cut through the cacophony, but Caitlyn's resolve was already forming. Her mind returned to her father's death and the chaos Jinx had unleashed. Justice—or vengeance—seemed within reach, and that was all she could see now.

Her attention shifted to Maddie, standing next to her. Maddie's expression was fierce, her fists slamming against her chest in unison with the Noxian soldiers. Though conflicted, Maddie seemed to be encouraging Caitlyn, her defiance of doubt visible in her actions.

One by one, the Enforcers began to mimic the Noxian gesture, their fists pounding against their chests hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence. The sound of their solidarity merged with the Noxians', filling the room with a deafening, unified rhythm.

The Marines stationed among the crowd, however, remained still. Their training and instincts told them better than to participate. Though they did not oppose openly, their rigid stances betrayed their disapproval. Left with no other choice, they stood down, their silence a quiet protest.

Caitlyn's heart pounded as she absorbed the moment. The room was a maelstrom of sound, pressure, and expectation. Her gaze locked with Ambessa's, the older woman's piercing eyes urging her forward.

"Come, child," Ambessa commanded, her tone gentle yet firm, like a queen calling forth her successor.

Caitlyn hesitated only briefly. Steeling herself, she took a step forward, then another, her boots echoing on the polished floor. Each step felt heavier, as if the weight of Piltover's future pressed down on her shoulders.

Behind her, Loris shook his head, his disapproval plain. He turned sharply on his heel and walking out of the room.

Woods, his face a mask of disgust, spat his own dissent. "Fuck this clown show," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. He turned to Mason, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Mason."

Mason hesitated, glancing back at Caitlyn for a moment before following Woods out of the chamber, the sound of the council doors closing behind them echoing through the hall.

Caitlyn continued her march toward Ambessa, her expression set in stone. This was no longer about Piltover's future, its politics, or even its safety. This was personal—justice for her father, vengeance against Jinx, and an end to the chaos that had consumed her home.

As Caitlyn approached, her steps deliberate and measured, the atmosphere in the room shifted. All eyes were on her—Enforcers, Councilors, Noxian soldiers, and Atriox's Brutes. The murmurs had died down completely, replaced by a tense, expectant silence. Ambessa extended her hand toward Caitlyn, her expression one of encouragement and determination.

Caitlyn hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in Ambessa's. The Noxian leader's grip was firm, steady, a silent assurance of what was to come. Caitlyn glanced briefly at the crowd, their expressions a mixture of hope, doubt, and fear. Ambessa, still holding Caitlyn's hand, stepped behind her, her movements smooth and purposeful.

With a flourish, Ambessa draped a dark blue cape across Caitlyn's shoulders. The fabric was heavy and rich, a symbol of authority and newfound purpose. Caitlyn stiffened slightly as she felt the weight settle on her back. Ambessa placed both hands firmly on Caitlyn's shoulders, leaning in close, her voice a low, intimate whisper meant only for Caitlyn.

"Your father will have justice," Ambessa promised, her tone sincere yet charged with purpose. "I swear it."

Caitlyn's heart tightened at the words, the mention of her father reigniting the fire of grief and rage that had driven her this far. She gave a subtle nod, her face unreadable but her resolve clear. Ambessa stepped back, releasing her grip, and gestured toward the room as if inviting Caitlyn to take her place as the focal point of the moment.

For a second, Caitlyn stood still, the weight of the cape and the expectations of the crowd pressing down on her. Then, slowly, she extended her arm, the motion deliberate and calculated. Her hand, once open, curled into a fist with practiced grace. With a sharp movement, she brought the fist to her chest, slamming it against the cape's dark fabric. The sound echoed through the chamber, loud and resolute, a declaration of her decision.

The Noxian soldiers, ever disciplined, responded immediately. They slammed their own fists against their chests, the synchronized sound reverberating like a war drum. Even some of the Enforcers, swept up in the moment, mimicked the gesture, though their movements were hesitant and uncertain.

Terrance, seated among the Council, watched the display with a heavy heart. He closed his eyes, the weight of disappointment and resignation settling over him. To him, it was clear: Caitlyn had been swayed by Ambessa's charisma and Atriox's intimidating presence. She was no longer acting as Piltover's protector but as a pawn in their game.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, his fingers steepled in thought. He knew this decision would lead Piltover down a dark path, one paved with bloodshed and tyranny. Yet, he also understood there was no stopping it now. Caitlyn Kiramman had made her choice.