SCARS

Tension

Tension radiated off Vi as she locked eyes with Lyra. Calypso could sense the unease in the air and instinctively reached for Vi's arm, trying to pull her away from the scene.

"Let's go," Calypso urged, her voice low and anxious. "Now we know who the gang is. We don't need to be here anymore."

Vi glanced down at Calypso, her jaw clenched. "Just a minute," she said, resisting the pull but not completely ignoring it. She looked back at Lyra, her eyes narrowing.

Calypso's grip tightened, a mixture of anxious urgency in her eyes. "Please, Vi. Let's just get out of here before anything happens."

Vi seemed torn for a moment, her gaze flicking between Calypso and Lyra. She almost let herself be pulled out of the bar, but then Lyra's voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the celebration.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Vi," Lyra called out, her tone dripping with mockery. "I ought to think you're stalking me."

Vi's head snapped back toward Lyra, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Don't flatter yourself." she snapped back, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

The crowd around them sensed the brewing confrontation and began to quiet down, their attention drawn to the exchange. Lyra's gang watched with interest, some of them smirking, others looking wary.

With a forced calm, Vi spoke, her voice laced with sarcasm. "What's with the celebration, Lyra?" she asked innocently, though she already had a good idea. The smug look on Lyra's face confirmed her suspicions.

Lyra's smirk widened, and she leaned back against the bar, crossing her arms. "Oh, you know," she drawled, her tone taunting. "Just another night celebrating our superiority in the lanes. It's becoming routine. You and your crew are slipping, Vi."

Vi narrowed her eyes, knowing full well that Lyra's boast was a lie. She could see through the facade, she knew it was a Shimmer shipment celebration. Babette was rarely wrong.

Vi's lip curled into a sneer, knowing the real story behind the celebration. "Don't get cocky. I'll put you back in your place real fast."

Lyra's eyes gleamed with a mix of challenge and amusement. "Big words for someone who's always playing catch-up."

As the taunts escalated, the old man with the violin shuffled past, his steps unsteady. He stumbled across the bar, and the violin slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Calypso's instincts kicked in, and she rushed to pick it up, her movements swift and graceful. She handed it back to him with a polite bow of her head, the Piltover mannerisms still ingrained despite her time in the undercity.

Lyra's eyes gleamed as she watched the scene unfold. "Oh, how sweet," she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Where'd you find this one, Vi?"

Vi bristled, her protective instincts flaring. "Leave her out of this, Lyra."

Lyra's grin widened, enjoying the effect her words had on Vi. "Oh, come on, Vi. Just making conversation. I've never seen fissure folk with such good manners before," she remarked, her tone mocking. "Pretty thing like her, so eager to help. Not exactly typical here, is it?"

Vi's breath hitched, her sharp intake of air betraying her rising anger. She stepped forward, her fists clenched tightly. "What are you getting at?"

"Well with those manners and that hair, I assume—" Lyra started, but Vi was already moving, closing the distance between them in a flash.

"Don't assume anything," Vi growled, her face inches from Lyra's. "I can make you regret it real quick."

From across the bar, Calypso's eyes caught the flash of anger in Vi's stance. She watched as Vi's jaw tightened and her knuckles began to whiten as she clenched her fists. Calypso had seen that look before— she knew she had to act fast.