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Zaun has a way of shaping people- molding them out of grit, grime, and the unyielding will to survive. Shark was no exception.
Born amidst the smog-choked streets and rusted spires of the undercity, she grew up with the scent of grease and danger in her lungs.
A fighter, sharp as the broken glass that littered the ground, she earned her name with a ferocity that could cut through any who dared stand in her way.
Once, Shark had stood by Vander's side. She had believed in his dream of peace, of making Zaun something more than just Piltover's shadow. His bar, The Last Drop, had been a refuge where she could momentarily forget the cold weight of survival. Vander treated her like family, and for a time, she believed in him like family, too.
But the line between loyalty and ambition is thin in a place like Zaun.
When Silco came whispering promises of power, freedom, and a future where Zaun would no longer kneel, Shark listened.
She saw in him a fire that Vander lacked; a willingness to burn everything and forge something new.
It wasn't an easy choice, but in a city of hard choices, it felt inevitable.
Shark tells herself she did what she had to.
That Zaun's future is worth the blood on her hands. And maybe even the blood of the Firelights that keep standing in her way.
Especially one of them.
