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

Chapter XIII: The Bounty

As Caitlyn's boat rocked left and right through the water, there was only one thing in her mind. Determination to figure out who stood behind all the attacks. At first glance, they could all be written off as little heists or human negligence, but she was sure there was more to the story. And it was in the details - every accident involved the same symbol - that neon monkey, plastered over the walls, with no name to put behind it.

She had looked over every report, every piece of evidence she could get her hands on. The symbol was the only common thing, the only clue that connected these seemingly random acts of violence. It was as if this criminal was playing a game with her, always one step ahead, always just out of reach.

A sudden jolt rocked the boat as it narrowly avoided a partially submerged rock, the navigator steering around it to keep them on course toward Stillwater Hold Prison. Raindrops began to fall, lightly tapping her face, but nothing could shake her. She was determined to catch this criminal, and one of her leads was here.

The boat finally slowed as it approached the dock, Piltover barely visible in the distance. Her right foot made it out of the boat, and then the left one followed him, switching in quick pace one after another. The door to the prison was heavy, but she didn't let that stop her, pushing in with determination on her face.

Inside, she was greeted by a solitary figure - the warden, if you could call him that - who regarded her with a curious glint in his eyes. She approached him with a stern expression, her voice firm. "I need to speak with one of the inmates."

The eyes of the keeper flashed to the folders in front of him for a second, then back at her. His voice was low, cold, and unkind. "Oh, folks in here aren't usually very talkative."

Caitlyn thought that would be the answer, but she wasn't keen on backing off easily. "This one was hit by friendly fire. He's got reason to talk. Must've been sent in, today?"

The warden didn't need to check numbers to answer her. "Oh. Inmate 2135. Yeah, I'm, uh, afraid that's not possible."

"Why not?" Her composed facade wavered for a moment, a flicker of frustration crossing her features.

"Uh, well, there's been..." He answered her, but his eyes were pointed at another part of the room, like he couldn't meet her gaze. "... an incident."

"What kind of incident?"

"The not so pretty kind."

"You don't understand." Caitlyn pressed, sure that the warden was somehow protecting this man. "I have to talk with him."

But he laughed back somewhat condescendingly. "Oh, you will be able to. As soon as he can move his jaw again."

When the young woman heard that, she couldn't help the gasp out of her lungs. Her eyes narrowed at him, searching for answers on his facial features. "Who attacked him?"

The warden's expression darkened at her question, his gaze becoming more guarded. Without a word, he reached below the counter and handed her a worn folder. She flipped it open, searching for answers, but was met with frustration. The contents were sparse, and the inmate's photo was half torn, a jagged line cutting across the middle of her face. The name was nowhere on the papers.

Caitlyn's brows furrowed as she studied the incomplete image, the missing details only deepening her unease. The torn photo felt like a deliberate attempt to erase the woman's identity, to bury her beneath layers of secrecy. But why? And who would go to such lengths?

"What happened to the rest of the file?" She asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

The warden met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "That's all there is." he said flatly, offering no further explanation.