A/N: I was re-reading some old DC comics and this happened. Although the descriptions only allowed for four, this story would probably feature an extensive cast of characters with some only making appearances later on in the plot-line. Pairings will mostly be f/f and characters' thoughts are written in italics.
Hope you guys read this using comic-goggles.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. League of Legends belongs to Riot Games and the term 'metahumans' is coined by DC Comics.
#1
VCPD Headquarters, Piltover District – 1.21 p.m.
"That's the seventh one."
Caitlyn's voice is quiet but Vi hears the unmistakable roiling of anger beneath.
Setting her cup of lukewarm black coffee down on the table, she glances over at her partner who currently sits hunched over her desk, electric blue eyes glued to the case file in front of her.
Thin rays of afternoon light filter through the industrial blinds to the Caitlyn's left, casting shadows across the woman's striking features and making her appear more dour than usual.
Vi sighs.
There's just something about police work in this city that utterly depresses, and the office's interior décor—or lack thereof—does little to aid matters.
The four walls that house the Major Crimes Unit of the Valoran City Police Department are awash in shades of dull muted gray, with certain areas of the paintjob already cracking from age and wear. The working area itself, though relatively large and spacious, is perpetually dimly lit, something which Vi suspects is due to the higher ups being too cheap to replace the incandescent bulbs with fluorescent lamps. Police budget in this city has an uncanny way of staying short despite countless fundraising efforts.
Everywhere, detectives are busying about, taking calls, discussing cases, and it's easy to get all up in one another's asses since there are essentially no separating panels between desks, no private offices save for that of the Captain of major crimes.
It's at one of these multiple metal tables that Vi sits, fingers idly fiddling with a ballpoint pen as she eyes Caitlyn poring over her documents with some admirable focus, wholly undistracted by the hustle and bustle around.
When the first body (or whatever was left of it) had turned up at a random apartment north of the Zaun district, no one really batted an eyelid. Dead bodies turn up all the time in the city of Valoran, more so in the impoverished areas where mugging and assaults are commonplace. Yet, even with the public as desensitized as they are to such things, when seven bodies—seven, all killed with the same unorthodox and horrific M.O—started piling up within a short span of two weeks, people inevitably sit up and take notice.
Apart from the cause of death, the kills had appeared to be largely random, seemingly the act of a serial homicidal maniac. Vi had read through the preliminary reports herself and noted the absence of concrete leads. Needless to say, none of the detectives at MCU were particularly keen to tackle the case; not with police approval ratings at an all time low and the public out calling for blood.
But Caitlyn had volunteered.
Of course she did. Vi is thinking as she watches her partner thumbs through a thick stack of photos before arranging them in an orderly grid on her desk.
"Burns, on all of them," the woman murmurs, mouth twisting in consternation as her finger lightly traces the grotesque markings on a closed up shot. "By gods, I've never seen anything like it. What do you reckon caused these?"
"Chemicals, from the looks of it." Vi slumps back in her chair before propping her feet up on the edge of her desk—it's a habit that has often earned the ire of her partner, not today. Today, Caitlyn is too preoccupied to even notice.
"Yes, that was my first thought too. These look an awful lot like chemical burns, but the latest lab results came back negative. It states here there were no traces of known chemical compounds found on the victims' bodies or at the crime scene."
"Odd."
"Odd indeed," faint creases appear on Caitlyn's forehead. "We could be dealing with something newly synthesized, or worse—the work of a Meta."
"God, I hope not. I'm not sure the Valoran Supermax can handle any more of those at this point."
Metahumans give Vi a throbbing headache. They are people born with a chromosomal aberration that grants them superhuman abilities, with these abilities varying from person-to-person depending on the make-up of their metagene. While some of these powers have been known to be relatively harmless or even useful (i.e. the gift of healing), Vi has come across others that are downright destructive, especially when placed in the wrong hands. From experience, the frequency of the latter seems far more prevalent and there's just something about power that corrupts. The local university has done an in-depth study on this once, detailing how the statistical average of metahumans engaging in criminal activities outstrips that of normal human beings by three-folds.
Perhaps it is fortunate then, that the probability of a human born with the metagene is incredibly rare, less than 0.01 percent occurrence in the general population. Then there's also the fact that the gene is latent and undetectable by current medical science, with implications of this being there's no way to determine who possesses the gene at birth.
"Well, we can cross that bridge once we get to it," Caitlyn is saying as she massages her temple with her left hand while her right scribbles tirelessly on a legal pad. "Right now we still need to work out the connection between the victims and figure out why they were targeted."
"Hmm," Vi hums as she flips through her own dossier. "Preliminary investigation suggests no apparent correlation between victims. There's nothing that indicates they'd even known each other and their physical profiles vary in terms of age, sex, race, blood type, et cetera, so it doesn't appear they were targeted because of some specific trait."
Caitlyn pauses in the midst of her furious scribbling then, glancing up at Vi before chewing on the tip of her pen.
It's a recurring thing she does whenever she is deep in thought, and Vi is almost positive Caitlyn isn't even aware of the dirty habit. Not that Vi actively observes her partner, of course. People just tend to pick up certain things about others when they've worked together a spell.
"Ok, but differences aside, let's talk similarities." Caitlyn takes the pen out of her mouth and begins clicking on the tip in rapid succession; another nervous habit. "So, we know all victims were found dead in their places of residence with the time of death between one and four in the morning. Looking at their financial statements, they hailed from low-income households and resided in the poorer districts of Zaun and Bilgewater."
Click, click, click, click, click.
Caitlyn's furious pen-clicking echoes through their corner of the bullpen.
"Considering nothing was missing from their persons or residences, we can probably cross out robbery and other such related crimes. I mean, these people didn't even own much to begin with."
"You think it's possible some sick bastard is going on a random house killing spree for fun?" Vi proposes. It's happened before.
"My gut tells me that's not it. These attacks seemed far too planned out to be random, and the tracks too neatly covered. In fact, they feel almost like assassinations."
"Mob related?"
"Bodies that turn up in Valoran usually are." Caitlyn's mouth forms a grim line. "Mostly it's the mob that dares pull off something this showy. But that's where I'm stumped. Why go after these people? I mean this guy, look, this guy is a kindergarten teacher for godsakes, and this other lady here, she works full time as a janitor at the C-Mart near her house. No prior affiliations with the mob either."
Click, click, click, click, click.
The pen-clicking grows more flustered.
"There's a pattern here I'm not seeing, yet."
Click, click, click, click, click.
"Hey girls," there's a disruption in Vi's train of thought as Jayce, resident white knight of MCU, shuffles over to their desks.
"I'm heading out to grab some lunch, you girls want anything?" He asks, casually leaning against Caitlyn's desk as he sneaks a peek over her shoulder.
"Woah, is that what I think it is?" His eyes widen when he spots the photographs laid out neatly on her table. "Don't tell me the higher ups actually dumped that case on your asses?"
"Cait volunteered." Vi remarks dryly, jerking a thumb at her partner, who hasn't once looked up to acknowledge Jayce's presence.
"Go figure." Jayce laughs. "It's a tough case, but hey, if you guys are lucky, maybe one of those capes swinging around will solve the case for ya, huh?" He claps Caitlyn playfully across her back.
The comment (and unwarranted physical contact) earns him a scathing glare from the raven-haired woman.
"Very funny, Jayce. Please don't get me started on how those vigilantes are just as lawless as the rest of them. In fact, two fortnights ago, I had to answer a call in the middle of the night because some vigilante, this Enforcer, or whatever it is they call themselves, smashed right through the brick walls of a church in pursuit of a two-bit art thief and—"
"Moonwalker," Jayce cuts in. "Two-bit art thief you were talking about? Goes by the name Moonwalker."
Caitlyn waves a hand dismissively. "Right, Moonwalker, whatever. Thing is, if I ever come across this Enforcer smart-ass, I'm placing them in handcuffs for destruction of private property."
Vi sips her coffee.
"The fuzzy ones?" Jayce quips, and promptly withers as Caitlyn shoots him a look that can freeze hell.
"Harsh," he pouts. "Still, you can't deny this city needs them. They balance out all the bad and are helpful in countering the meta-villain situation."
"I agree they can be useful at times. But laws are laws. There should be no double standards when it comes to enforcing them. If a vigilante, like this Enforcer, breaks the law, I will arrest them on sight, simple as that." Caitlyn's tone is clipped as she looks Jayce in the eye.
The man holds up both hands in mock surrender and glances back at Vi, who only shrugs.
Being a stickler for rules, everyone in the department is well aware of Caitlyn's sentiments towards masked vigilantes and know better than to start with her.
"What is it about having power that makes people do bad things?" Caitlyn muses as she regards Jayce's retreating back.
Funny, sometimes Vi wonders the same thing too.
"You'd think they'd use their abilities for something constructive. Something good."
Good, bad. What do those words even mean in this city anymore?
The phone on Caitlyn's desk rings. She picks it up.
"Detective Fitzwilliam, MCU." There's a pause, then a knot in her brows as her lips curve downwards. Whatever she's hearing on the other end, it ain't anything good.
"Grab your jacket, cupcake," Caitlyn says as she puts the receiver down. "We've got ourselves another body down by the harbor."
"Burns and all?" Vi asks, rising from her chair.
"Yes." Caitlyn's face is somber as she shrugs on her deep purple overcoat. "Just when you think the city can't get any worse, it always surprises you."
It sure does. Vi is thinking. This city is funny like that.
Lux's apartment, Demacia district – 3.35 p.m.
"—eighth in a string of gruesome murders plaguing the city. The police are presently at the crime scene conducting an investigation, and we have reached out to the police commissioner to provide us with a statement—"
Sitting in the study area of her exorbitant penthouse decorated in bright minimalistic tones, Lux's fingers hover above the keys of her laptop as she pauses in her work, eyes flickering to the display of her flat panel television situated near the front of the room.
The screen cuts to a footage of commissioner Laurent, clad in an expensive looking navy skirt-suit, matched with a pearl-white satin blouse, addressing the press:"—we are in the midst of identifying the victim and though we can't provide any more details at this point for fear of compromising ongoing investigations, I would like to assure the public that the VCPD are trying their utmost to bring the relevant perpetrators to justice and that we are committed to—"
Lux tunes it out.
She's heard the pitch a thousand times before and yet, the city is still as toxic as it has always been. The past two years alone, crime rates in Valoran have spiked a total of 39.314 percentage points.
Lux knows this, because she's done her own research where the media and authorities have been less than forthcoming.
Most of the crimes that happened these days either go unpublished in the news or simply swept under a rug, but even then, there's only so far one can go in hiding these things. It doesn't take statistics for people to notice how the streets are physically brimming with miscreants of all sorts committing thefts, robberies, burglaries and other felonies out in broad daylight.
And why should these criminals be afraid?
Why should anyone fear the repercussions of their misdeeds when there are police officers, councilmen, judges—people in positions of power—sitting snugly in the back pockets of mob bosses and crime lords who mask their illicit dealings under the guise of legitimate businesses?
It's sickening to Lux how corrupt the city is.
On-screen, commissioner Laurent's smile is white and all teeth: "—and we will do everything in our power to safeguard our citizen's welfare, endeavoring to make this city a better place for—"
Lux turns the TV off.
VCPD headquarters, Piltover District – 8.41 p.m.
"Another late night?" Vi pauses by her partner's desk on the way out.
The woman looks up briefly—and Vi can't help but notice how bleary and bloodshot her eyes are—before glancing down at her watch.
"Gosh, I guess so. I haven't realized how late it's gotten."
Caitlyn does this often. The woman takes her job too seriously and Vi isn't sure how late Caitlyn stays at times. The instances where Vi clocks in extra hours, Caitlyn has always managed to outdo her by staying even later, and recently, Vi's been hearing whispers circulating the locker rooms that Caitlyn actually sleeps in the office—though she brushes that off as a wild exaggeration. Then again, she hasn't exactly seen Caitlyn physically leave the office in the past week.
Girl needs a break. Vi is thinking as her gaze roams over the worn and tired woman sitting huddled before a mountain of paperwork.
For a brief moment, the briefest moment, she considers asking Caitlyn out for dinner on the weekends, someplace nice and relaxing with good food and good wine.
But an odd feeling stirs up in the pits of her stomach then, a flutter of something that's accompanied by a flicker of fear that Caitlyn might actually say no. Vi stops herself.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" She asks.
But her partner has already turned her attention back to the stacks of paper on her desk.
"So many bad guys, so little time." Vi hears her mumble as she leaves.
Bilgewater District – 12.21 a.m.
Night, and the Bilgewater housing district is still as death. There's a common misconception for bad neighborhoods to be rowdy and rambunctious even in the wee hours, that is not so. Certainly, there are episodic moments of chaos when something bad goes down, but most days, the inhabitants of the area know better than to venture out after hours. Not if they want to risk being robbed, shot at, or worse.
High on the rooftop of a non-descript apartment building, a lone figure crouches low in the shadows near the edge, muscles coiled as they scan the surrounding streets and alleyways below.
Still. Everything is still.
Subtlety really isn't Vi's strong suit, her specialty gearing more towards punching people and making sure it hurts. But Lux has specific instructions detailed in her mission brief, and although Vi didn't quite retain all the blather, she gathered it entails some stakeout of sorts.
"Blondie, do you copy? I'm at the location you've sent." Vi's tone is hushed as she speaks into the microphone built into the collar of her costume. The communication device is top-of-the-line; something Vi has designed herself much like the rest of her superhero gear.
Despite being an ordinary human with no meta abilities, Vi's prodigious skills in engineering, coupled with her innovative spirit, has enabled her to develop cutting edge equipment that sets her on a level playing field when dealing with dangerous threats and metas.
The very source of her powers (and her ultimate prized possession) stems from a pair of matted gray gauntlets, crafted entirely from military grade titanium that awards lightweight functionality without compromising on durability. It used to be made from aluminum and bronze parts she'd scraped together down at the local junkyard, but since joining Lux's team nine months ago—if two even makes a team—certain resources have become—well, available.
When activated, her gauntlets grant her superhuman strength and allow her to lift hefty objects with ease. On more than one occasion, it has also allowed her the nifty trick of creating shortcuts by punching through walls, although this last part, she reminds herself to do less often since Caitlyn's earlier comment has struck a nerve.
Apart from super-strength, the leg plates (made from similar titanium) attached to the calf area of her boots are rigged with a propulsion mechanism that enables her to move at increased speed and give her a supercharged speed burst at will. The rest of her costume consists of a one piece, dual-toned suit of bright yellows—she's done this so the bad guys would be able to spot her from a mile out, which makes it fair, in her humble opinion—but it also makes her a walking Christmas tree when it comes to stealth missions like these, which speaking of, she ought to talk to Lux soon about possible new member recruitment, perhaps someone with a separate skill set to balance out her own.
"Blondie?" Vi asks, and repeats, her pink-mirrored goggles registering no signs of hostiles.
The oversized goggles (equipped with night vision, infrared and binocular capabilities) serve a dual function of enhancing her sight as well as preserving her civilian identity by masking about three quarters of her face. Maintaining one's identity is important to vigilantes, and prudent too, if one wishes to safeguard their loved ones from harm. To that end, Vi has also donned a bright blue wig over her natural tresses, figuring her pink hair would be too telling to anyone who looks close.
"Blondie—Lux?"
What's that girl doing? Bathroom break? This isn't call-of-duty online.
There's a soft crackling of static as Lux's familiar voice sounds out through Vi's earpiece.
"Yes, I'm here, sorry for the delay. I've got eyes on you."
There's some degree of comfort in hearing Lux's voice and knowing there's someone out there watching your back. Though certain capes prefer solitary action, Vi personally thinks it's a boon to have a partner in this line of work, especially one as competent as Lux.
The girl can hack her way into most security grids and mainframes without so much as breaking a sweat, and this makes her a tremendous asset when it comes to providing up-to-the-minute intel as well as coordinating and organizing an op. Having prior experience out on the field doesn't hurt either; Lux knows exactly where the pitfalls are and what practical details to look out for in order to ensure smooth running of an op. And even though Lux insists she's more useful behind a screen, Vi has seen the girl in action before to know she's a force to be reckoned with out on the field as well.
In the early beginnings of their partnership, Lux had engaged her as an agent to help take down a fanatic cult that worships an ancient evil being called Vilemaw. Back then, Vi was just starting to make a dent in the Valoran crime scene, patrolling the streets at night and slowly dismantling drug and burglary rings as they come.
On hindsight, Vi suspects Lux's proposal was probably an excuse to assess her capabilities and work ethics for future collaboration, something like a preliminary trial of sorts. She's fine with that since the experience gave her an opportunity to appraise Lux as well, and from what she'd seen, the girl is something else. Lux's meta abilities to bend and manipulate light had been particularly useful for stealth drops and tactical ambushes, not to mention, her laser ability—Final Spark, came in pretty handy during a pinch.
At the end of that mission, with the successful disbandment of the cult in one night, both had found the other's methods and objectives to be agreeable and had stuck together until now.
"You gonna tell me why I'm perched on this roof?" Vi is asking.
"Yes. I'll get to that in a bit. First, a brief update on the chemical killings." There's a pause on the other end and Vi hears the furious clacking of computer keys in the background before Lux continues. "I've managed to uncover the common denominator. Two months ago, it would appear that all victims participated in some kind of drug trial for Pharmex Industries."
"All eight of them?"
"Affirmative. Highly doubtful coincidence if you ask me."
"Pharmex Industries. Why does the name sound so familiar?"
"That's because it is. It's a biopharmaceutical company that made headlines recently with the high profile procurement of—"
"—of a cluster of wastewater treatment plants, yes I remember now. I read about that in the news."
"Right, and you may also be acquainted with the company's CEO who's a prominent figure in Valoran."
"Yeah?"
"Darius Sangre."
Vi exhales. "Of the Noxian crime mob?"
"The very one."
It seems Caitlyn was right, the mob may be involved after all. Going up against the Noxian crime mob is always tricky. For the past few decades, they have been dedicated in branching out and building up an intricate network of ties within the local government (mostly by buying people over or installing them in with deep pockets) as well as in key corporations that contribute to the city's overall economy. What this means is that crusading against the mob is almost always a fruitless endeavor, seeing how their head honchos possess enough clout to get away scot-free with nearly any foul deed.
"Do you know what the drug tests are for?"
There's a brief pause on the other end and Vi hears more clacking of keys.
"Not at this moment, no. The information I've gathered thus far was hard to get a hold of as it is."
"Hard? I didn't think that was in your vocabulary."
"Well true, but it's definitely more of a challenge. Whoever ran these trials went through great lengths to keep it off record and ensuring they stay that way. There were no mention of it in any of the company's official logbooks, nor were there any virtual paper trail that indicates this project even existed. If I hadn't tracked the victims' travel patterns through their subway cards and bus passes over the past six months—oh, I inferred the travel patterns when I tapped into their bank statements. In retrospect, I'm guessing they were offered money for their supposed participation in this mysterious trial, though there's no evidence of a money trail either, so my guess is they were paid in cash or in some other way—and cross-referenced that data with footage from traffic surveillance cameras as well as internal surveillance at Pharmex, I wouldn't have spotted the association."
"Yeah, but you did." Vi rolls her eyes. Lux loves to ramble on about her thought process in reaching a particular conclusion.
Oh, it's elementary, my dear Enforcer. Vi mimics Lux's voice in her head.
"Yes I did, and then I ran their—"
"Ok. I get it, great job. Now, can you just tell me why I'm here? You can save the story-telling for bedtime."
Lux snorts.
"Well, that was just what I was getting to. Long story short, there's a ninth and final participant in this mystery drug trial."
Vi frowns. She's pretty sure she knows where this is going.
"Vincent Surello. He lives in the apartment complex across from the one you're at now. Second floor, third window from the left."
Vi shifts her gaze to where Lux has indicated, noting the dim lights spilling through barred windows and the silhouette of a prone figure resting on a bed as she switches to binocular vision.
"I see him." Vi grunts. Though it's a redundant report since her goggles have recently been updated with a recording function that enables Lux to view whatever she is seeing back at base.
"If the trend is any indication, our serial killer would be gunning after him next and I want to make sure we don't end up with another body bag. If we're lucky, we get to kill two birds with one stone and find out more about these supposed drug trials. I have a feeling we're barely scratching the tip of the iceberg here."
Vi is guessing the next part would consist of that stakeout Lux's mentioned earlier. She's basically being put on baby-sitting duty—important, life-saving, but still, baby-sitting duty nonetheless. Maybe she should have brought along some magazine to kill time, perhaps set up a beach chair on the roof, gotten some cold beer and—
"Vi!" Lux's voice, loud and jarring, crackles to life in her ear.
Vi's hand instinctively flies to her earpiece. "Ugh, no need to shout, I can hear you."
"There's someone on the roof with you!"
"What? Where?" Whipping around, Vi scans the area behind, methodically scoping the grounds inch by inch. "You sure, Blondie? I'm not seeing anything, nor am I picking up any heat signatures."
"It was for the briefest moment, but camera two on the south edge just registered a figure. Stay alert Vi, you are not alone."
Stepping away from the edge of the roof, the Enforcer hunkers down into a defensive position, gauntlets raised in front of her as she braces herself for possible confrontation. At the moment, she's more than a little confused as to what Lux is talking about since there isn't a single soul in sight, not as far as she could tell anyway. But still, she trusts Lux, and the girl doesn't make mistakes often.
Lux's Base, Undisclosed Location – 12.51 a.m.
Seated in front of her supercomputer, bathed in the warm blue glow of multiple flat screen monitors, Lux's mind races as her fingers dexterously work the keys on her keyboard, pulling up a freeze frame that was taken not ten seconds ago from rooftop surveillance.
The image is blurred and pixilated, but with a few clicks of her mouse, it starts to sharpen and enhance.
The resulting quality is still far from high definition but it's just about clear enough for Lux to make out a slim humanoid figure, clad in black pants and some short black crop top, bent low in the midst of springing a jump. There's a distinct flow of red hair that extends down the figure's back, and though their features are partially concealed by a dark black mask and (what seems like) black face paint around the eyes, Lux runs their profile through facial recognition software and law enforcement databases anyway. If this person is a masked villain of some sort, chances are there exists records of them that might help shed light on their motivations and capabilities.
Bilgewater District – 12.56 a.m.
The rooftop area isn't awfully big, and Vi is certain she has double, triple checked every hidden corner by now.
No sign of anything.
Whoever was here had seemingly up and disappeared into thin air.
"Beep, beep." There's a soft beeping from Vi's earpiece as Lux's computer registers a hit.
"Vi. I've got something. There's not much record on her—it's a woman, I think—but VCPD files contain information on a masked character fitting her physical description. From what I gather, they call her the Sinister Blade and she's wanted for two counts of first-degree aggravated assault—"
At that instance, a heat signature spike shows up on Vi's goggles and not two seconds later, a lean figure materializes about twelve paces in front of her.
"Fuck. I see her. She's meta. I think she's a fucking blinker." Vi grunts, cutting Lux off midsentence.
Wanted. Assault—criminal.
The thoughts cycle through Vi's head as she launches herself at the newcomer, speed enhanced by both adrenaline and her leg plates. Spiraling forward, she succeeds in tackling the figure down and landing a good solid punch right to their sternum.
It's a relatively hard knock and there's a sharp, audible whoosh as air rushes out of the figure's lungs while they double over, wheezing from the impact.
People normally stay down after one hit from the Enforcer, yet, the figure somehow manages to recover with surprising resilience, wrestling themselves out of Vi's grip and fucking teleporting away before Vi can draw back her gauntlet to land an incapacitating blow on the liver.
"Vi, Vi?" Lux's voice calls through the earpiece.
There's a glint of silver in Vi's peripheral vision and, acting on sheer reflex, she tucks into a roll, narrowly evading the blade as it whistles past and lodges into flat concrete.
Vi stares at the blade embedded in the ground; she's never seen a throw like that before. For a small blade to be thrown with such force that it wedges a half inch dead into concrete—that can't be pure skill.
"A little busy here." Vi's jaw clenches as she spots another three blades hurtling in her direction.
Lifting her gauntlets, she succeeds in deflecting the first two, but the last one flashes by fast and sinks into tender flesh right below her left clavicle.
Vi bites back a cry.
Too careless.
"Vi, Vi. Stop punching for a moment—"
"Kinda hard to do when there's someone trying to kill me." The blade has tagged her deep and the yellow fabric surrounding the wound is starting to seep a dark maroon.
"Listen. The Sinister Blade's weapons of choice are blades and knives."
"Yeah, kinda got that figured out." Even as she's speaking, Vi sees another flash of silver in the moonlight; yet another blade flying towards her.
This woman's like a goddamn porcupine.
Vi side-steps in time, knocking the blade back with a resounding clang and watching with some satisfaction as it clatters uselessly to the ground.
"No, you are not listening. The Sinister Blade's methods don't fit that of the chemical killer's, and you didn't let me finish my sentence earlier—the two counts of aggravated assault, they were on men affiliated with the Noxian crime mob."
"What are you implying?" Vi asks, brows furrowing. "That she could be on the same side?"
"Maybe, if you stop punching her long enough, you can find out."
Vi highly doubts this Sinister Blade character is on their side. Whatever motives this woman possesses, it's likely to be self-serving.
Speaking of, where is that wily little prick?
During her brief conversation with Lux, the redhead has danced out of Vi's immediate vision and is now nowhere in sight.
"You gonna show yourself?" Vi calls out as she reaches below her left collarbone, wincing while she plucks the blade out from her wound (removal of the foreign object when impaled is not advisable to do, but Vi's survived much worse).
"Or you gonna continue playing games?" She tosses the blade aside.
Behind her, a deep, menacing voice grinds out. "You talking to me, or you still talking to yourself?"
"I'm talking to you. You have good reason to be here?" Vi swivels around, but the woman has already vanished in a mist of red.
Fuck. That's annoying.
"Do you?" The redhead deadpans, re-appearing a distance away near the rooftop access.
Palpable tension mounts the air as both women stand stock-still facing one another, neither one making a move. Taking advantage of the brief ceasefire, Vi lets her gaze rove over the other woman's physique in cold appraisal.
The Sinister Blade stands at an average height, perhaps a good three inches shorter than Vi. There's an aura of danger that surrounds her, made more prominent by the way the woman carries herself, with movements balanced between feral fluidity and disciplined control. Her attire itself is nothing arresting—she is garbed in a pair of figure-hugging, black leather pants, matched with a black leather half-jacket, worn over a short, black leather crop top (crop top or bra?) that shows off her toned abdominals as well as a mess of tribal design ink spanning the side of her left torso. Heavy black leather boots, embellished with sharp metallic spikes at the calves, adorned her feet, while around her waist and thighs strapped an impressive arsenal of silver blades and daggers—
—Oh god. Did this woman take a wrong turn and miss the BDSM Barbie convention. Vi is thinking, before her muscles tauten when she spots the Sinister Blade reaching down to slide a thin, silver blade out from the hold in her waist-belt, making a show of twirling it deftly between gloved (leather) fingers.
Vi knows a thinly veiled threat when she sees one.
"Vincent Surello, you know him?" She ventures, gauntlets flexing while she discreetly spreads her feet apart—the stance would make it easier to dodge if the Sinister Blade decides to let fly.
"What's it to you?"
"We could be working the same angle. Word is you have a beef with the Noxian crime mob. So do I. Maybe we can compare notes. Show me what you've got and I'll show you mine."
The Sinister Blade visibly stiffens, nimble fingers pausing in mid twirl before shifting to grip the blade tightly in a fist. Even in the dim moonlight, Vi sees the woman's eyes narrowing.
"I don't work with idiots." There's a shift in the air around her, then an abrupt mist of red as the woman disappears again, although this time round when she reappears, it's mere steps in front of Vi.
The proximity unsettles the Enforcer, and puts every inch of her body on guard, but still, she doesn't flinch.
"Listen," There's something simmering beneath the redhead's voice. "I don't know who you are or what you think you know about me but—if you are thinking of going after Singed, don't. He is mine—"
Singed? Who the hell is that?
"—stay the fuck out of my way, I'm not going to warn you twice."
There are all manner of questions swirling in Vi's head, but before she can craft a response, Lux's voice comes through the earpiece.
"Vi. Traffic cams on South Street just picked up a black van turning down your block before changing directions midway and tearing off."
"What—South Street? Civilian vehicle?" Vi asks while still keeping a wary eye on the unfriendly redhead. There's a brief flicker of confusion in the woman's eyes (sea-green, Vi notes), which fades away when she catches on that Vi is conversing with a third party.
"Negative. I ran the plate; it's a stolen number. Traces back to nowhere."
Vi huffs.
"Looks like your pals turned tail and ran." She says, addressing the Sinister Blade as she looks the woman dead in the eye.
Something passes across the redhead's features before her lips form an imperceptible quirk downwards. "You think I'll take your word?"
Vi only shrugs, and the other woman's mouth twists further into an ugly snarl.
"Fucking idiot," She finally spits, some measure of composure slipping away. "If I could spot you from a mile out, so could they. Listen to me, you fucking neon light, if I ever see you again, I'm going to kill you."
With that, the woman blinks away.
"I was standing in the shadows before you came." Vi mutters mirthlessly, but the redhead did not reappear on the roof.
Seconds later, Vi hears the roar of engine starts up from one of the alleyways down the streets, followed by a loud screeching of tires. Rushing to the roof's edge, she catches a flash of red on black as a sleek motorbike tears down the block, speeding towards the direction of South Street.
"Shit. Should I chase after?" Vi throws a quick glance at the apartment room where Surello is, then back down at the glow of taillights fading fast into pinpricks.
"Negative," Lux's reply is prompt. "My computer just registered distress signals from Surello's thermal signature picked up from your goggles. I need you to go check on him; his safety is top priority. Don't worry about Sinister Blade and the van, I'm tracking them through traffic and city surveillance as we speak."
Vi cusses under her breath.
"I'm on it."
A/N: I initially wanted the first chapter to be an unbroken 9k+ words, but thought better of it and broke it down into two parts instead to make it more palatable. Anyway, if you've read this chapter till the end, thank you. Please feel free to leave a review or suggestion.
Costume note: Vi's superhero costume is meant to resemble her neon strike skin.