SCARS

The Kiss

Lyra moved through a dimly lit warehouse with a commanding presence, her footsteps echoing off the metal walls. The air was thick with the scent of oil and the faint tang of chemicals, a constant reminder of the underbelly of Zaun. She stopped beside a group of workers, her sharp eyes assessing their progress as they loaded crates onto a waiting vehicle.

"Make sure those are secured properly," she ordered, her voice cutting through the noise. "We can't afford any mistakes."

The workers nodded, hastening to tighten the straps around the crates. Lyra watched them for a moment longer, then turned her attention to a burly man standing nearby. He had a clipboard in hand, checking off items as they were loaded.

"How's it looking, Rez?" Lyra asked, her tone brisk.

Rez glanced up, his face creased with concentration. "We're almost done, boss. Just a few more crates to go."

Lyra nodded, satisfied. "Good. Make sure everything is double-checked. Our client doesn't tolerate errors."

Rez grunted in acknowledgement and returned to his task. Lyra moved on, her eyes scanning the warehouse for any signs of trouble. The operation was running smoothly, but she knew better than to let her guard down. Too much was riding on this shipment.

She walked past rows of stacked crates, each one marked with cryptic symbols and numbers. The contents were a closely guarded secret, though everyone who had half a brain knew it was shimmer.

As she reached the far end of the warehouse, a tall, imposing figure walked through the corrugated metal doors. He moved with a deliberate grace, his sharp features partially hidden by the shadows. Lyra straightened, her eyes narrowing as she approached him.

"Everything is ready," she said, her voice steady. "The shipment will leave on schedule."

The figure nodded, his gaze sweeping over the bustling activity inside the warehouse. "Good," he replied, his voice smooth and controlled. "You've done well, Lyra."

Lyra allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. "Thank you. I know how important this is."

The figure's eyes flickered with something unreadable, and he stepped closer. "You understand the stakes," he said quietly. "Failure is not an option."

Lyra nodded, her expression serious. "I do. You can count on me."

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy in the air. Then the figure turned, his gaze fixing on the departing vehicles loaded with crates.

"Very well," he said, his tone final. "Proceed as planned."

He pressed one chaste kiss on Lyra's cheek. The softness of the touch was intended to convey a sense of refined etiquette, demonstrating his composure and control over the situation.

The moment was infused with a palpable formality, the kiss executed with a precision that hinted at his awareness of the social dynamics at play. It was not meant to be intimate or affectionate but rather a calculated display of respect and authority. The gesture lingered just long enough to be noticed, but not so long as to breach the boundaries of propriety.

Lyra watched as he walked back out of the warehouse, her mind racing with the implications of their exchange. A lot was riding on this Shimmer distribution. Her boss's plan to create an army fueled by shimmer and powerful enough to take down Piltover was not one she could afford to mess up. Not that she would anyway, she wanted this so bad. The war, the destruction.

Besides, Silco was not the kind of boss you could afford to mess up with.

~~

Vi stood on the roof of The Last Drop, the night air cool against her skin. The city below was a chaotic mess of lights and shadows, but up here, it was almost peaceful. Almost. Her mind kept drifting back to the previous night, when Calypso had fallen asleep in her arms. The memory was both comforting and tormenting, a reminder of the closeness she craved but could never fully grasp.