The Blades and The Gauntlets [Vi x fem!oc]

Chapter II: The Last Time

Quiet footsteps echoed around the Piltover apartment. The floor had just been remade into a new, elegant brown pattern, unlike the previous white quartz that had made the place look pristine, but also difficult to keep clean. It had been a few years since the war ended, and everything was slowly falling back into place. Piltover was getting a redesign - both in its architecture and in the hearts of its people. Every old habit, every scar from the conflict, was being swept under the rug, along with quite a few secrets that lay buried among the city's inhabitants. People were already beginning to forget what war looked like, and children were flooding the streets once more in search of something new and refreshing to do during the summer.

The footsteps belonged to the daughter of one of Piltover's ruling houses, Caitlyn Kiramman. The Kiramman family had been a cornerstone of Piltover's elite for generations, their influence woven deeply into the fabric of the city's politics and society. Caitlyn's mother and father had built their names long before the war ended, living a life of tradition, luxury, and responsibility. But Caitlyn was different. While she respected her family's legacy, she had no intention of simply following in their footsteps. She wanted more than just a life of privilege - she wanted to make a difference.

Beside her walked Jayce Talis, a man whose name was rapidly becoming as well-known as the Kirammans'. Jayce was a genius inventor, a rising star in Piltover's scientific community, and someone who had already played a pivotal role in the city's post-war reconstruction. His family had helped rebuild what was lost, making Piltover a beacon of progress and innovation.

"You really went to the Undercity to get these?" She excitedly asked him, picking up one of the unknown objects and turning it around to take a better look of it. "Weren't you afraid?"

They turned the corner, with his laughter echoing the empty corridor. "A little danger is worth the risk, don't you think?"

Just as he said that, she dropped the mysterious object in an attempt to return it back in the box. He looked back in concern, then continued walking ahead. "Uh, careful. That's your parents' money you're dropping." She kneeled to pick it up, then quickly caught up to him. As they continued walking, and he started to search for his keys, not far away from them Violet's new crew had been just around the corner, for quite some time now.

"We're almost there!" Vi whispered, looking down at the new members of the crew. In the years since the war began, their group had expanded to include two others: Mylo and Claggor.

Mylo was about the same age as Vi and Mila, with a wiry frame and a quick, sarcastic tongue. He had a thing for slipping into places he wasn't supposed to be, and his sharp eyes missed nothing. Mylo's bravado could be grating, but underneath it all, he was fiercely loyal to his friends, even if he showed it in his own, often annoying way.

Claggor, on the other hand, was the opposite of Mylo in almost every way. He was a solidly built, gentle giant with a heart of gold. His calm, steady presence was a source of comfort to the group, and his mechanical skills made him invaluable during their heists. Claggor didn't say much, but when he did, his words carried weight. He was the quiet protector, always watching over his friends, making sure they stayed safe.

Powder had grown, though her innocence had been replaced by a strange, almost frantic energy that manifested in her obsession with gadgets and bombs. Mila had also changed, though her sharp wit and quick reflexes remained. She was still Vi's closest friend, but their relationship had deepened over the years into something more complicated. Lately, however, Mila had found herself questioning the risks they were taking more often.

"Aw, man." Mylo complained, just as his foot slipped, causing a loose stone to fall dangerously close to Mila's face.

"Move it, old man!" She snapped, her voice carrying a dangerous edge, but beneath the irritation, there was a hint of something else - a frustration that had been building inside her. She was beginning to feel uneasy about the plan, even though she had agreed to it. The tension in her tone was more than just annoyance - it was the pressure of too many close calls, and the nagging feeling that something might go wrong.