Piltover - Veteran's Center - [The Future]

The dimly lit room was filled with the faint hum of an overhead fan, its steady rhythm underscoring the heavy conversation. Lawson leaned forward on the leather couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he processed the weight of what he'd just heard.

"Caitlyn's father died?" Lawson asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Frank Woods, seated across from him in a wheelchair, nodded grimly. His expression was hardened, his hands resting on the armrests as he leaned back slightly. "Those monsters," he began, his voice rough and filled with disdain. "Machines. Whatever the hell you want to call them. They don't show mercy. They're mindless machines that don't give a shit about who they kill." He paused, his shoulders slumping slightly as he exhaled. "Tobias didn't deserve to go out like that."

Woods glanced away, his voice softer now but still carrying the weight of his words. "The guy died saving Cassandra. A noble thing, sure, but... it shouldn't have come to that."

Lawson leaned back, his expression darkening. "And Caitlyn? How did she...?"

Woods cut him off, his tone sharper. "She didn't take it well. Hell, who would? I didn't know Tobias all that well, but whoever sent those machines, whether it was that kid Jinx or not..." He stopped, his hand gripping the edge of his wheelchair tightly. "It just pissed Caitlyn off, that's for sure."

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He shook his head, his voice lowering into something almost reflective. "The worst part? There was no funeral. No time to mourn. She didn't even let herself feel it. She was just... focused. Obsessed. Revenge—pure and simple. All that hatred for Jinx was fuming in her veins, fueling her."

Lawson frowned, his voice cautious. "You don't blame her for that, do you?"

Woods scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Blame her? No. Hell no. I get it. I've been there. Bowman, Angola... I lost good people there. Damn good people. And I felt that same fire—burning, relentless. It eats you up inside, but you don't care. You just want someone to pay."

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the faint creak of Woods' wheelchair as he adjusted his position. He looked up at Lawson, his gaze intense. "But that kind of hate? It doesn't lead anywhere good. It tears you apart. Caitlyn's strong, but even she couldn't stay the same after that."

Lawson nodded slowly, the gravity of Woods' words settling in. "She's still standing, though," he said, his voice steady. "Still fighting."

Woods grunted in agreement. "Yeah. She's a damn good Enforcer. But don't think for a second she's over it. You don't just walk away from that kind of pain."

The two men sat in heavy silence, their shared understanding of loss hanging in the air like a shadow. In the quiet, the past felt closer than ever, the memories of war and grief etched deeply into both of them.