Piltover - Terrance's Debrief Room

The atmosphere inside the debrief room was heavy with tension, the air practically humming with unspoken conflict. Councilor Terrance stood at the head of the table, his expression grim as he looked over his trusted ranks. Around him sat two of Piltover's most prominent enforcement leaders, all bearing the weight of the city's current turmoil.

Liam "Brimstone" Byrne, the seasoned Director, his expression stern and contemplative. Arthur Maxson, the Grand Marshal and heir apparent to Terrance's Council seat, sat upright, his youthful arrogance barely concealed beneath his polished demeanor.

Maxson broke the silence first, his voice resolute. "Ambessa may be right. Martial law must be enforced if Piltover is to survive. The situation demands it."

Brimstone scoffed, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Survive? This isn't about survival, Grand Marshal. This is about what Piltover stands for—justice, progress, freedom. Martial law destroys all of that."

He paused as he tilted slightly toward Maxson. "You're starting to sound like Ambessa. You sure you're on the right side?"

Maxson bristled at the remark, his hands gripping the table's edge as he turned to Morrison. "Watch your tone, Director," he snapped, his voice rising slightly. "We may share the same rank, but that doesn't mean your can act like that towards me. I suggest you learn some respect."

Terrance finally broke the silence, his tone firm but weary. "Enough," he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We can't afford to let personal grievances take priority over Piltover's future. Focus on the task at hand."

Maxson exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting back in his chair with a begrudging nod. The tension eased slightly, but the undercurrent of frustration remained, simmering just below the surface. Brimstone, ever composed, returned his attention to Terrance, signaling his readiness to proceed without another word.

"My apologies, Councilor." Maxson leaned forward, his tone less confrontational now but still pressing. "What do you plan to do now? Whatever you decide, we will follow."

Terrance hesitated, the room falling into a tense silence as all eyes turned to him. He exhaled slowly before speaking, his words measured and deliberate. "As much as we want to retaliate, we cannot. Open defiance will only plunge Piltover into more bloodshed, and we cannot afford that."

Maxson frowned, his voice laced with skepticism. "Then what do you suggest we do, Councilor?"

Terrance met her gaze, his expression hardening. "We play the long game."

Terrance then addressed the rest of the table, his voice rising slightly, filled with conviction. "For now, we must follow Ambessa and Atriox. If we oppose them openly, we risk retaliation—and I have no doubt they will respond with force. Piltover cannot withstand that kind of internal strife, not now."

Brimstone shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his frustration evident. "So we're just going to stand by and let them run the show?"

Terrance's gaze hardened as he looked at the Colonel. "No. We follow them for now, but we keep our eyes open. We find their weaknesses, their flaws. When the time is right, we act—but not a moment sooner. Do you understand?"

The room fell silent again as his words sank in. One by one, the ranks nodded, though their expressions varied—some resigned, others resolute.

Maxson was the last to speak, her voice quieter but no less firm. "If this is the path we're taking, Councilor, I hope you're ready for what comes next. Playing the long game might cost us more than we realize."

Terrance met her gaze, the weight of leadership evident in his eyes. "I know, Maxson. But it's the only way Piltover survives this."

The door to the debrief room swung open, drawing all attention to the figure entering. Clad in dark blue and gold power armor that gleamed under the room's dim lighting, Tactical Advisor Danse stood at attention. His presence was commanding, his voice resonant as he addressed the Councilor.

"Councilor Terrance," Danse announced, "she's here."

The tension in the room shifted instantly. Those seated around the table exchanged glances, their thoughts unspoken but evident in their expressions. Before Terrance could respond, Caitlyn Kiramman stepped into the room, her dark blue cape flowing behind her. Her face was composed, though the weight of her decision still hung visibly in her eyes.

Terrance gave him a measured nod before turning to the others. "This meeting is adjourned," he declared, his tone leaving no room for debate.

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Both of them, his trusted ranks stood and began to leave, each showing their reactions in subtle—or not-so-subtle—ways. Arthur Maxson was the first to move, his piercing stare lingering on Caitlyn as he passed. The intensity of his gaze was almost palpable, a silent challenge that Caitlyn chose not to meet.

Director Liam "Brimstone" Byrne followed closely behind Maxson. He stopped just long enough to acknowledge Caitlyn with a nod. "Caitlyn," he said, his voice calm and measured.

"Director," Caitlyn replied, her tone filled with respect. Though she now works under Ambessa, she still saw him as a mentor and a figure to be respected. The acknowledgment seemed to reassure Brimstone, who gave a faint smile before stepping out.

Danse remained at the door, standing guard as the room emptied, leaving only Terrance and Caitlyn inside. Terrance gestured toward one of the chairs at the table. "Have a seat," he said, his voice quieter now, almost paternal.

Caitlyn moved toward the chair, sitting slowly, her cape draping over the backrest. Her posture was straight, her hands folded in her lap as she waited for him to speak.

Terrance turned to Danse, who still stood at attention near the door. "You can leave, Advisor," Terrance instructed.

Danse gave a sharp nod. "Yes, Councilor. Ad Victoriam." His voice carried a tone of loyalty and duty as he exited, the door hissing shut behind him.

The room grew silent, the only sound the faint hum of the overhead lights. Terrance leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled on the table. His gaze was piercing but not unkind as he studied Caitlyn.

"So," he began, his tone laced with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity. "You've made your choice."

Caitlyn met his gaze, her expression resolute despite the storm brewing inside her. "I have," she replied simply. "And I've made up my mind."

Terrance nodded, his expression a mix of resignation and concern. "You know—" he began, but Caitlyn cut him off, her tone firm but respectful.

"Councilor, please..." She turn her head towards Terrance, her gaze softening slightly. "I have so much respect for you, but I'm tired of the lectures. This decision... it's not something I came to lightly. I believe it's the only way to ensure Piltover is safe—from Jinx and from Zaun."

Terrance exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly as he shook his head. "By turning Piltover into something unrecognizable?" His words were laden with sadness, a reflection of his fear for what this beloved city might become.

"After losing my father," Caitlyn's jaw tightened, her determination clear. She spoke with cold conviction, her voice steady. "I will do anything to find justice for him, whatever it takes. Not until I see Jinx dead."

Terrance's expression softened slightly, his voice steady and filled with concern. "I know losing your father is hard, Caitlyn," he said, leaning forward. "But you're letting your emotions drive your decisions. You're not in the right mindset, and that's dangerous. We can talk about this—work through it together."

Caitlyn's jaw tightened further, her fists slamming the table. "Talk about what, Councilor?" she snapped, her tone sharp and laced with frustration. "You want me to sit here, play the planning game, while Jinx gets the last laugh? While she wreaks havoc on Piltover, unchecked?"

She shook her head firmly, her voice hardening. "No. My decision is final. Ambessa and Atriox are my only hope of getting closer to Jinx. They'll give me what I need to bring her down, to make Zaun pay for everything."

Terrance sighed deeply, his face heavy with disappointment but also understanding. "Caitlyn," he said, his voice quieter now, "I'm not saying your pain isn't valid. I'm saying revenge blinds you to the bigger picture. Jinx isn't just a singular problem. If you align yourself with Ambessa and Atriox, you risk losing the very thing you're fighting for—justice, not just for your father, but for Piltover."

Caitlyn's eyes flashed with emotion, but she didn't falter. "Justice?" she said bitterly. "What justice is there when Jinx is still out there, running free? When Zaun continues to spit on everything my father stood for? No, Terrance. This isn't just about Piltover's ideals anymore. This is personal."

Terrance's eyes lingered on her, searching for some hint of the Caitlyn he had once known. The Caitlyn who stood for justice, for progress. Finally, he nodded, though his expression was weary. "If that's what you want, Caitlyn. But know this..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Ambessa and Atriox—they aren't here for peace. They're warlords. Their words may persuade the Council, the Enforcers, even the people of Piltover, but they can twist those words. Twist them to make it seem they're with us, all while furthering their own agendas."

Caitlyn's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes, her resolve unshaken even in the face of Terrance's warnings.

Terrance sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You're walking a dangerous path, Caitlyn. I hope you're prepared for what lies ahead, and for what you might lose along the way."

She rose to her feet, her cape billowing slightly as she did. Her eyes locked with Terrance's, and for a moment, the room was silent save for the low hum of the lights.

"I am prepared," she said simply, her voice devoid of hesitation. Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked toward the door, her steps deliberate, echoing in the quiet room.

As her hand reached for the door panel, Terrance spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with hope. "Caitlyn," he said, his words hanging in the air for a moment. "If you ever change your mind... you know where to find me. And when you're ready, we'll do this together."

Caitlyn froze briefly, her hand lingering over the panel. She didn't turn around, her posture stiff as if she were processing his words. For a moment, the room was steeped in a heavy silence, the Councilor's offer resonating like a faint light in the darkness.

Without saying a word, Caitlyn pressed the panel, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. She stepped through without looking back, her silence a quiet acknowledgment of his words—or perhaps an attempt to ignore them entirely.

As the door slid shut behind her, Terrance sat alone, his thoughts heavy. He leaned forward, pressing his hands together, his gaze fixed on the empty chair Caitlyn had just occupied. "Whatever it takes," he murmured to himself, shaking his head slowly. "God help us all."

For now, all he could do was wait—and hope that Caitlyn Kiramman would find her way back before it was too late.