Ashes of Progress // Silco x OC

Chapter 6

The office was stifling, the thick air barely stirred by the faint hum of Piltover's factories just beyond the window. It did little to distract Marcus from the stacks of reports before him—papers filled with the intricacies of a city forever on the brink. Numbers blurred into one another, their meanings lost in a haze of exhaustion: shimmer shipments, enforcer deployments, council mandates—all merging into one unending cascade of responsibility that threatened to drown him.

He rubbed his temples, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back in his chair. He was tired. Tired of carrying the weight of Piltover on his shoulders while those around him either turned a blind eye or reveled in the power they held. He wasn't like them. The enforcers who only cared about getting their next paycheck, or the council members who were more interested in safeguarding their luxurious seats of power. No, Marcus was different. He was the one holding this fragile city together, balancing the impossible while everyone else remained oblivious to the sacrifices he made.

Silco's operation was growing in Zaun, a creeping shadow spreading its poisonous shimmer even into Piltover itself. Yet Marcus had a system, a method to the madness. He let Silco feed him half-truths, doctored reports that served to keep their arrangement intact, allowing Marcus just enough leverage to maintain the illusion of control. In return, Marcus stopped shimmer shipments when he could—quietly, strategically. He did what needed to be done, all while telling himself that he was the only thing standing between Piltover and complete chaos. He was keeping the shadows at bay, protecting Piltover from being swallowed whole.

A knock at his door jolted him from his thoughts. He straightened, scowling at the interruption. "Come in," he said, his voice sharper than intended, betraying his frayed nerves.

The door opened, and Shale stepped inside, his posture as tense as ever. Marcus glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the nervous enforcer. Shale never looked comfortable in the light, like a creature that belonged in the shadows.

"Well?" Marcus snapped, sitting up straighter. "What have you got?"

Shale shifted on his feet, his eyes darting around the office as if afraid of what lurked in the shadows. He cleared his throat. "Something big, sir," he muttered, his voice low, almost conspiratorial.

Marcus gestured impatiently for him to continue, his patience already wearing thin. Shale had a habit of making mountains out of molehills, and Marcus was in no mood for exaggeration.

"There's someone new," Shale said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping even lower as if sharing a secret too dangerous for the walls to hear. "A woman. She's been working in one of Silco's factories—messing with the machines."

Marcus frowned, irritation already bubbling. "And?" he asked, the word sharp, cutting through Shale's hesitation.

"She's not just patching them up, sir," Shale added quickly, his eyes still darting nervously. "She's fixing them. Making them better. The stabilizers she's been working on—they're running smoother. Production's up."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite himself. "Interesting," he admitted, though his voice held a dismissive edge. "But hardly urgent."

Shale shook his head, stepping even closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's not all, sir." He hesitated, glancing toward the door before leaning in, lowering his voice even more. "I overheard Sevika. She called her... Sera Moreau."

The room seemed to freeze.

Marcus's hand stopped mid-motion, the pen he'd been holding slipping from his fingers and clattering softly onto the desk. He stared at Shale, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?" His voice was low, the chill unmistakable.