Piltover - Raul Menendez's Safehouse

As two Pelicans soared over the sprawling city of Piltover, a young child gazed up in awe, tugging her mother's shirt. "Mom! Look!" she exclaimed, pointing as the ships cut through the sky, heading toward their designated landing zone. The sight was both inspiring and unsettling, a reminder of Piltover's ongoing efforts to protect the city from threats lurking in the shadows.

Inside one of the Pelicans, Caitlyn Kiramman stood, her Enforcer uniform sharp and professional, black eye patch still present on her left eye and her white beret a symbol of her dedication to Piltover. Her Hextech rifle rested confidently in her hands, every movement precise as she prepared for the mission.

Caitlyn took a steadying breath, she addressed them, her gaze sweeping over each member as she spoke. "We all know the mission," she began, her tone calm yet filled with determination. "I'll be positioned at a vantage point to oversee the hideout. Once we're in place, we'll infiltrate Menendez's safehouse, locate him, and take him in. Understood?"

Master Chief gave a curt nod, his response short but loaded with resolve. "Understood."

Beside him, Mason offered a simple, "Copy that,"

Meanwhile Avery Johnson's response was a confident, "Roger that, ma'am."

Ezio Auditore nodded respectfully, "We will ensure that the mission will go as planned, Caitlyn."

Switching to comms, Caitlyn contacted Bangalore to confirm their positions. "Captain Williams, what's your status?"

"Ready and waiting on our end," Bangalore's voice came through, cool and collected. Caitlyn acknowledged her, mentally checking off another piece of the tactical puzzle.

In the back of the Pelican, Woods cocked his M27 Assault Rifle, the weapon humming with the familiar blue Hextech glow. He strode toward the door, brimming with barely contained intensity. "Alright, let's not fuck around here," he muttered, pausing just before he continued. He glanced back at the team, his eyes dark with purpose. "Let's smoke this bastard."

Before he could continue walking, Hudson placed a firm hand on Woods' chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his sunglasses reflecting Wood's face, Hudson looked Woods squarely in the eye, his voice firm. "That's not the mission, Woods. We take him alive."

Woods' jaw tightened as he shrugged Hudson's hand off, his expression defiant. "Touch me again, Hudson," he warned, his voice low, "and I won't hesitate to smoke your ass instead."

A tense silence settled in the Pelican as the two men stared each other down, the team watching with wary eyes. Master Chief, sensing the rising tension, took a small step forward, his calm presence silently urging them to focus.

Caitlyn intervened, her voice level but unyielding. "Enough, both of you. We're here for one reason only: to bring Menendez in, alive. No one jeopardizes that. Are we clear?"

Woods, reluctantly, gave a stiff nod, though the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. Hudson adjusted his glasses, holding back any further comment. The Pelican continued its descent, and each of them braced themselves for the mission ahead, united by the goal, even as personal tensions simmered beneath the surface.

Suddenly, the pilot's voice crackled over the comms. "Approaching the target zone now, Commander Kiramman. We're nearing the hideout."

Caitlyn adjusted her rifle, her focus sharpening. "Find me a secure vantage point with a clear line of sight on the hideout. I'll provide cover and intel from above."

The pilot nodded, banking the Pelican slightly as he scanned for a nearby rooftop or elevated structure with a direct view of Menendez's safehouse. "Copy that, locating a high point for you now, Commander."

As they descended lower, Caitlyn took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. Every detail mattered—one missed movement or overlooked shadow could mean the difference between capturing Menendez or watching him slip away.

As the ramp lowered, Caitlyn took one last look at her team, her gaze steady and filled with a mixture of trust and resolve. "Watch each other's backs out there," she said, her voice carrying an undercurrent of concern.

Mason nodded, giving her a reassuring look. "We've got this. Don't worry."

Caitlyn nodded in return, taking comfort in his assurance. She stepped off the ramp, her boots hitting the rooftop with a soft thud. Turning, she watched as the Pelican lifted back into the sky, its engines roaring as it banked away, disappearing into the horizon. Alone on the rooftop, she took a deep breath, allowing the quiet to settle over her.

She adjusted her rifle, scanning the hideout below, but for a moment, her mind drifted, and she murmured softly to herself, "Vi... I wish you were here." Her voice was barely a whisper, carrying a longing that she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. "I need you now... more than ever."

The longing in her voice was unmistakable. She knew that having Vi beside her would have added an unshakable layer of strength and comfort, a reminder of the trust they shared and the battles they'd faced together. She felt the weight of her solitude pressing down, but she squared her shoulders, steeling herself.

This mission was too important, and Vi's absence was yet another reminder of the burden she carried—for Piltover, for her team, and for herself. With renewed determination, Caitlyn settled into position, her gaze fixed on the hideout below, ready to play her part in bringing Menendez to justice.

• • • • •

Minutes later, Bangalore led her team—Enforcer Danse clad in his Power Armor of dark blue and gold, Sova, Tracer and a group of Enforcers—toward the rear of Menendez's fortress-like safehouse. They moved with quiet precision, each one alert to their surroundings as they approached a far distance beyond the outer wall, the dense stone towering above them.

Once they reached cover, Bangalore activated her comms. "Team, this is Williams. We've arrived at our designated position. What's your status?"

High above, Caitlyn crouched in her vantage point, scanning the compound below with her rifle's scope. "This is Kiramman. I'm in position. I've got eyes on the fortress and am ready to provide overwatch."

Bangalore acknowledged her with a quick response. "Solid copy, stand by." She then switched channels, reaching out to the second team. "Mason, what's your status?"

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Mason, flanked by Woods, Hudson, Avery Johnson, and a squad of Marines, was stationed a fair distance from the main entrance, concealed behind a building. He glanced at Woods, who nodded, weapon at the ready, before he keyed into the comms.

"This is Mason. We're in position at the entrance. Ready to move on your signal."

Bangalore took a breath, mentally reviewing the plan one last time. "Copy that, Mason. Wait for my go. Caitlyn, keep us updated on any movements inside the compound. All teams, hold positions. Menendez isn't getting away this time."

The coordinated silence settled over each unit, their senses heightened as they waited for the signal to move, each aware that precision and timing would be key in this mission.

From his position behind cover, Woods shot a skeptical glance at Hudson, his expression hard. "Let's just hope your intel's as solid as you think it is." he muttered, his tone carrying a warning edge.

Hudson's face remained impassive, his eyes fixed forward. "If it weren't, I'd be the first to pull us out. Trust me, Frank."

Woods nodded reluctantly, the tension between them simmering down, if only slightly.

Bangalore glanced over at Sova, giving him a nod. "You're up, Sova."

Sova returned the nod, his expression focused, and deployed his drone. The small, sleek device darted forward, quietly scanning the perimeter and counting the guards stationed around Menendez's safehouse. As the feed came through, Sova's eyes narrowed, recognition flickering across his face.

Danse stepped closer, his cold, red visor casting an imposing glow. "What do you see?" he asked, his voice sharp and precise.

Sova hesitated for a brief moment, then responded, his tone low. "These aren't just ordinary guards. They're Menendez's private army."

Danse's jaw tightened, his posture growing even more rigid. "Private army" he repeated, the word carrying a weight of history and bitterness. He knew what these people were capable of—fanaticism fueled by a desire to dismantle everything Piltover stood for.

Bangalore's gaze hardened, absorbing the new intel. "Probably from his cartel from Zaun."

Sova retracted his drone, his eyes meeting hers. "I suggest we take necessary precaution against them."

The revelation settled heavily over the team, each member adjusting their approach, knowing that the opposition was more than just hired guns. This mission had taken on an added layer of risk, but with it, a renewed resolve to dismantle the last remnants of that chaotic legacy.

Bangalore turned to Sova, her tone direct and unyielding. "We need eyes on Menendez. Find him."

Sova nodded, already recalibrating his drone for indoor surveillance. "Understood, Captain. I'll send the drone inside the building now." With practiced precision, he launched the drone once more, guiding it through a broken window on the side of the structure.

The feed streamed live to his display, showing narrow hallways, dim lighting, and guards stationed at key points inside. Sova's fingers moved deftly, controlling the drone with careful adjustments as it maneuvered through the building's twists and turns.

The team waited in tense silence as Sova's drone pressed further in, scanning each room systematically in search of Menendez.

Inside the dimly lit bedroom, Raul Menendez stood before a tall, dusty mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection. His hand traced the scar on his right eye, a remnant of his violent past, now faded but still deeply etched into his psyche. He glanced over at the bed beside him—a painful reminder of his sister Josephina, whose absence had left a void he could never fill. Murmuring to himself, he whispered, "They'll suffer as I have... as we both have." The words were a dark promise, an oath that fueled his every action.

Unbeknownst to him, Sova's drone hovered just outside the bedroom door, its silent flight capturing every detail. In the shadows, Sova observed the live feed, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the man they were hunting. He clicked his comms. "Target spotted. It's him. I have confirm visual."

Hudson, hearing this over comms, turned to Woods, Mason, and Johnson, his face tense but resolute. "Intel checks out. It's Raul Menendez."

Johnson gave a brief nod. "Good. Let's make this count, gentlemen."

Woods, however, remained skeptical, his jaw clenched as he eyed Hudson and Sova's feed. "How do we know Sova's little drone isn't seeing shit?" he muttered, his suspicion lingering.

Sova's calm voice cut in over the comms. "Believe it or not, Woods, Menendez is here. And he's alone. You can check the feed yourself if you need confirmation."

Woods narrowed his eyes, still wary but forced to concede. "Alright. But if this goes sideways, I'll be the first to put a bullet in him."

Hudson gave Woods a look, his expression unyielding. "Let's keep our focus. Menendez is right in front of us, and we're not missing this opportunity." He turned to the team, his voice carrying a tone of finality. "Standby. Eyes open, everyone. Wait for the signal."

On the other side of the Fortress, Bangalore glanced at Danse, her face steely with determination. "We're ready on your go."

Danse nodded, his expression hardening, a cold resolve settling over him. He turned toward the wall, his grip tightening on his Rocket Launcher. Danse shouted, "Get clear!"

With precision, he aimed his weapon and fired a salvo of Rockets directly at the wall. The impact erupted with a powerful explosion, the concrete and steel shattering under the force, opening a massive breach in the structure. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the interior momentarily.

Inside the bedroom, Menendez turned his head sharply at the sound of the blast, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. He rose from his chair, his movements unhurried, his demeanor calm as he headed toward the door.

In the hallway, one of Menendez's loyalists sprinted toward him, eyes wide with alarm. "What's happening?" the loyalist demanded, his voice laced with panic.

"There's a breach at the rear wall!" the loyalist panted. "They're breaking in!"

Menendez's lips curled into a smirk, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. It was as though he had expected this moment all along. "Good," he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. "Get some of our people to my office. Let's make them feel welcome."

Without another word, Menendez strode down the hallway with a deliberate, unhurried pace, his steps echoing in the tense silence. The confident smirk never left his face as he moved toward his office, mentally preparing for the confrontation he had known would come. This was not just a defense—it was his chance to turn the tables, and he was ready.

As the wall crumbled under Danse's assault, four of Menendez's loyalists, armed with Zaun-tech weapons, immediately aimed their sights at the breach. Their fingers hovered on the triggers, ready to unleash a barrage of firepower on anyone who dared cross into their territory. But Sova moved swiftly, peeking out from behind cover and releasing a Shock Bolt. It sailed through the air and hit the loyalist on the left square in the chest. Electricity crackled through his body, dropping him to the ground in seconds.

The remaining three loyalists barely had time to react, exchanging a glance of alarm at their fallen comrade. In that moment, Tracer zipped forward in a flash of blue and orange light. Using her speed as an advantage, she launched herself into the air, unloading a round of her Pulse Pistols into the first loyalist mid-jump. As the remaining two spun around, their weapons aimed at her, she dodged effortlessly, blurring out of their line of sight. In the blink of an eye, she was behind them, delivering precise shots that brought both loyalists down.

Just as she was catching her breath, a shot rang out from above. Tracer flinched instinctively, narrowly dodging the bullet that grazed past her. Her gaze shot upward to see a loyalist on a nearby tower, his Zaun-tech rifle aimed at her. He let out a dark chuckle, his voice dripping with menace. "Run, little runt," he sneered, lining up for another shot.

Bangalore spotted the sniper from above as she ringed Caitlyn on comms shouting, "Heads up, sniper! North side of the tower!

But from her vantage point, Caitlyn was already positioned with her scope trained on the loyalist in the tower. She took a steadying breath, her finger lightly pressing the trigger, and fired. Her shot was precise, hitting the loyalist squarely. He staggered back, his weapon slipping from his grip as he collapsed, no longer a threat.

With the immediate area clear, Tracer turned back to the team, signaling with a shout, "Clear!"

Bangalore acknowledged with a quick nod, immediately switching to her comms. "We've breached the rear side of the area," she reported. "Mason, push forward to the main entrance. Let's trap Menendez in."

Mason's voice came through in response, firm and ready. "Copy that. Moving in to assist."

As Bangalore, Sova, Danse, and the Enforcers moved forward, the coordinated assault began to close in around Menendez's safehouse. The pieces were falling into place, each team strategically positioned to box him in. With Caitlyn providing cover from above and the rest of the team advancing, Menendez's escape routes were rapidly disappearing.