Prologue: Rite of Passage
"Dr. Rath, patient seven-hundred ninety two has emerged from surgery and will be conscious in thirty seconds," a scruffy neuroscientist called out.
Xavier Rath nodded, his unblemished white lab coat standing out amongst the grime that covered the experimental facility. Eyes flickering downwards, he was already mixing the next solution, tweaking ingredients and adjusting reagents to create a new formula. No point waiting when seven-hundred and ninety experiments had failed. No, better to press ahead and streamline the process.
He grinned, pulling out a beaker containing some specially brewed Shimmer, pouring a decent load into the batch. The powerful emotional techmaturgy attached with the substance would hopefully carry through with the rest of the solution, although the results would be unclear. There was no point in determining what the projected fluid would do to a person, seeing as how he needed to get through a person at least once every half an hour or so.
"Awakening in five, four, three, two, one..." the neuroscientist reported, and just before he called the number 'zero', the eyes of a man stuck against a wall by numerous straps snapped open. Two cyan orbs pierced through the smoky room, shining, their harsh light cutting through to face him.
Xavier stepped back, quickly jotting down the eye color of his newest patient. Without taking his eyes off of patient seven-hundred ninety two, he called out: "I hope you're satisfied with the results of the experiment. The exit is to your left."
The man, although strapped against the wall, deftly moved his fingers and flicked his wrists. The bindings around his wrists fell off, and a smirk appeared on the man's face. Shifting his hands into his pockets, a stream of cards soon spit out of his pockets, slicing through the remaining bonds on his upper body. With another agile motion, the man was free of the complex harness, with three cards in each hand.
A burst of smoke filled the room, obscuring everything from view as Xavier pulled a trigger, scampering down a hatch on the right side of the room, desperately clutching several overflowing vials of liquids. A few scientists and attendants in the room started towards the exit as well, but when a thudding noise signaled a card impaling itself straight into the back of one of them, they all stood still.
Crimson blood welled out of the wound, the scientist gasping in agony. Red tendrils of energy spiraled out from the card, and the scientist convulsed several times, before dropping to the ground, crippled. A mask of unmistakable coldness settled on the man's face as he stood silently, quietly taking in the scene.
"Please do tell me where Dr. Xavier Rath is," the man growled, as if daring the others in the room to challenge him.
When no response was came, the man raised his right arm, and the people watched in horror as a card silently spun between his fingers.
A stockier man, perhaps a left behind guard, spoke: "He operates on the East Bay, is where we are all in case you're not from abouts here."
The man nodded, the card in his hand slowing to an abrupt stop. With a twist of his wrist, the cards disappeared from sight, and the man's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. His pupils dilated, the blue glow from them permeating the air around him, making the world painfully bright to look at.
He stepped forwards uncertainly, seeing something beyond the room. He hesitated, as if not quite understanding, and then stepped forwards again. The others moved back, uncertain of whether he could still see, and a man tried to make for the escape hatch. Before anyone could react, a card shot out of the man's left sleeve, accompanied by an arching motion to give it its velocity. Imbued with a blue tone, the card shattered on impact with the would-be escapee, maiming his arm with a deep jagged cut.
Then, with a blinding flash of light, he disappeared. A pile of cards floated down from the empty space where he had been, lazily drifting downwards, spreading outwards. The people in the room slowly made their way to the exit, glancing back every few seconds.
Twisted Fate appeared in an overflowing sewer, a circle of cards lining his feet. He effortlessly bent down and flicked them into his various pockets, concealed and otherwise, before continuing to stride forwards. He had seen Dr. Xavier Rath for a few moments, right in this sewer, but as he was teleporting to this location, the doctor had escaped.
As he trudged through the slop on the ground, Twisted Fate couldn't help but wonder what miserables concoction lay beneath him. These weren't the pristinely filtered waters of Piltover, far from them. In Zaun, one couldn't even stand in the rain without risking his welfare.
Finding a recently locked door to his left, Twisted Fate eyed it quickly, sizing up the lock. Reaching inside one of his jacket pockets, he fished out a set of odd looking metallic lock-picks. With one hand, he deftly maneuvered the picks in a formidable manner, a quick series of clicks sounding every few seconds. Finally, the door swung open, and he peered into the corridor beyond.
Four automatons stood guard, their copper plating and electrically charged hands gleaming. They stood silently, waiting, and Twisted Fate tentatively leaned forwards through the door. The automatons quickly swiveled to face him, and he moved back, but their attention was now on him.
No warning was given as they slowly advanced, wheeling forwards to block off the entrance to the corridor. Flicking his wrist, Twisted Fate pulled out a card from his sleeves, and launched it from is hand. It feebly flopped to the ground, despite it being charged with blue light. Backing off more, he grimaced as he realized that his anatomy had been changed some. Throws and sleight-of-hands that he used to effortlessly pull off now seemed off, and he had completely botched his last attempt.
Everything in life was a series of trade-offs, and here he realized the cost of the magic that now freely flowed through his veins. The natural gambler in him had seized the opportunity to gain magic, despite the low odds, and he had come away with this much. It wouldn't do for him to waste the literal one-in-a-thousand power that he had received.
And all of sudden, Twisted Fate realized that the trade-off was perhaps less than he had originally assumed. While he had gotten some exercise in the past, he was certainly never as athletic as he was now. Perhaps the awkwardness with which he used his body was merely due to this change.
Trying again, another card flicked out and slammed into the closest automaton, a shower of blue sparks indicating where the card had landed. As the card landed, Twisted Fate felt the well from which he drew his power expanding slightly, a well that he drew out of whenever he empowered a card or teleported. The well slowly grew on its own, he had noted, but the natural regeneration would hardly be of use if he got into a fight.
The closest automaton was briefly slowed by the impact, a tear appearing in its armor, revealing the complex wiring beneath it, and Twisted Fate scowled. A barrage of cards surfaced, and he hurled them rapidly. Only one in every five or six were empowered, due to the sheer amount of focus necessary to empower a card. All the empowered cards he used were given a blue hue, which upon impact drew energy from the surroundings and transferred it to him.
Even without powers, he could have held off the four automatons, and they were reduced to shreds of metal and wiring within minutes. Their slow movements and unwillingness to leave a route open for him to get through meant that they could only progress on him slowly, and Twisted Fate had plenty of space to move back in while he fired card after card at the machines.
Stepping over the metallic mess he had created, Twisted Fate once more approached the corridor. The slick dark passageway curved down to the right, blocking its end from his line of sight, and he cautiously proceeded. The power that let him view others and teleport couldn't quite be reached at the moment- it slipped out of his grasp every time he tried to access it, but it grew closer and less distant by the second.
He continued down the path, carefully stepping, scanning for any potential traps. The roughly hewn stone steps served for uneven footing, as if someone had deliberately constructed the steps with the aim of throwing people off. He fired a mass of cards down the corridor, and was rewarded with the scent of a noxious fume.
After quickly backing off, Twisted Fate flung a card into the gas, and watched as it withered into a pile of ash. He sprinted back, watching the ominous grey cloud slowly diffuse through the air, slowly losing its color as the gas lost concentration. Reaching the sewer once again, Twisted Fate tossed another card into the gas, and watched as it held its form for several minutes before crumbling into ash as well.
Twisted Fate leaned against the brick sewer walls, tossing a pair of loaded dice through the air, always positioning it so that it landed with snake eyes. A waiting game that he had long since perfected, he then proceeded to toss straight sixes, a task just about as difficult as throwing the ones. He watched with his peculiar gaze at the murky clouds of gas until a card that he threw in was unscathed after ten minutes.
There was no rush, no hurry, and Twisted Fate calmly strode down the hallway again, steadily making his way downwards. No more traps seemed to be hidden, no more guards or people to overcome, and it was just him and the darkness as he walked alone. His eyes dimly lit up the winding passageway, revealing the fatalistic runes inscribed on the walls.
Runes that told stories of death and destruction, of Rune Wars long gone, histories of creatures so terrible that man was all too keen on forgetting about them. Very few could read the runic language now, and Twisted Fate was no exception. In fact, he was only semi-literate, having never gotten a proper education. He had no need for one, with his street smarts.
Finally, a faint light appeared at the end of the hallway, a shimmering, unfocused thing that delicately wavered. Approaching the square entranceway, he peered in, gazing at the ancient room that lay within. A worn four-posted bed stood at the back, it's joints barely holding, and papers and books littered the floors and desks that were within. A torch sputtered near the entrance, casting a pale glow across the room.
In the middle of the room, dressed in an elaborate dark cloak with golden and purple trimmings, was a woman of sophistication. She carried a tall staff in her hand, its mahogany length topped with a unique crystalline structure containing pink orbs of some energy within. Her casual demeanor suggested that she had fully expected his coming.
Upon her head stood a noble crown consisting of three bent, golden metallic strips that joined at a ruby at her forehead. Skimpy lengths of cloth criss-crossed her entire body, the dark fabric showing an alluring amount of skin and toned flesh that caused an awkward rise in Twisted Fate's body. Three belts, adorning her waist, served to tie a thin fabric across her lower body, barely covering enough to be considered immodest.
She had a sort of an alluring aura that drew Twisted Fate into a daze, a demeanor so un-demure that he couldn't help but gaze off at her, bright eyes lost. She smirked, twisting her body so that the cloth on her upper body began to slide, revealing a tantalizing amount of flesh by her breasts. With that same motion, her staff cracked into motion, a glowing sigil leaping out and striking him.
Knocked out of his daze, he attempted to empower a card to fling at her, but found that a thick chain had sprung from her arm, tying him down and preventing him from accessing his power. He flung his card anyway, snapping his wrist and arching his back for maximum effect, but watched helplessly as she dashed towards him, a shadow of trailing blurry images marking where she should have been hit.
Instantly, wounds ruptured along his skin where her magical attack had blasted him. Clothing tore, and Twisted Fate flung more cards. Perhaps one or two out of the ten or so he had flung found their mark, most of them veering off into places where he thought the woman had been, but actually wasn't. She had returned back to her original position as if nothing had occurred, causing the next mass of cards to fly wild. They tore through the torch, reducing the flame to nothingness.
Two sets of eyes met each other, and another flurry of attacks were exchanged. The woman weaved through his cards, as if seeing the underlying pattern, only taking glancing blows that left long trails of blood across her arms, while she flung another chain, hitting Twisted Fate square in the chest. They bound him to the wall, and he was rooted, unable to move. She stepped closer and smashed his head with her staff, causing him to groan out in pain.
Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the chains faded into mist, and Twisted Fate rolled into the room, knocking over a stack of tomes. Dust flew into the air, followed by another barrage of cards, but the woman had blur-dashed again, ending up behind him. Once again caught in the aftermath of her dash, he groaned in pain as the magical damage struck him.
Doubled over, he couldn't react in time as two sigils quickly struck him in succession. The first one barely impacted him, but the second hit with enough force to send him flying, and he crumpled against the wall, sending another stack of tomes falling. One more chain followed, and a similarly powerful blow left him wheezing for air, barely able to intake enough oxygen. Unable to move his limbs, he limply looked up, coughing out blood.
Still immaculately dressed, the woman flourished and bowed, before looking at Twisted Fate squarely in the face. He grit his teeth, unsure of what was to come next, and she spoke.
"Note the emblem on the ceiling. It is the mark of the Black Rose, and I am LeBlanc. To look closely is to fall into under my influence, and to look from a distance is to succumb to my illusions. But please, do let me continue," she slowly, seductively, spoke.
Twisted Fate managed a nod just as the chains disappeared, and he collapsed onto the ground, a small pool of blood surrounding his limp body. Unable to pick himself up, he managed to look up again, an effort that strained his entire body.
"What... what do you want?" he rasped, before coughing up more blood.
"To teach, to heal, and to give a recommendation," she swiftly responded, "and here's my only lesson for you- there's always another secret. So please, do act accordingly. You played well today, but there is much for you to do."
Confused and barely lucid, Twisted Fate only saw two large orbs barely contained by some infuriatingly deliberately placed cloth. A haze surrounded his vision as his head lolled. 'When was the healing going to come?', he wondered to himself, eyes wandering down to look at an exquisitely exposed midriff.
LeBlanc raised her staff, purple light emanating from it, and she traced a complex symbol in the air, leaving glowing magenta lines that seemed to pierce even more sharply than Twisted Fate's eyes. As she completed her figure, she gazed down at the man before him, and watched as the lines flashed out of existence. Replaced by it was a green light that surrounded Twisted Fate, repairing his body as well as the likes of Soraka could.
"We'll keep these runes a secret, shall we," she muttered, projecting just loud enough so that she could be sure Twisted Fate could hear.
"Now for the recommendation. Only one simple task, really. Please do join the League, as it would be such a delight to meet you on the Fields of Justice," LeBlanc spoke mirthfully, eyes cold as steel.
She watched as Twisted Fate slowly got up, pieces of tattered clothing and cards drifting downwards. Not a second later, she disappeared in a puff of smoke, the intricate carving of a black rose briefly flaring in light. Then, the room gradually faded away, leaving Twisted Fate in an extended corridor. The dust, the books, the bed, all gone. Only the dark corridor remained.
Dusting off a few scraps from what remained of his cloak, Twisted Fate leaned against the wall. He rested for a few moments, catching his breath. Bewildered, he looked frantically around, not comprehending where the room had went. Reaching out, he touched the wall on the other side, only to find it solid as the ground. All that remained was the carving on the ceiling.
He paused, tidying up his appearance some more, before he reached deep into the recesses of his mind. He tapped the teleportation ability, revealing the immediate vicinity around him, as well as all the people. LeBlanc was nowhere to be found, although at the periphery of his clairvoyant vision were several members of the local mob fast approaching. Perhaps they came to sort out what disturbed the peace, perhaps they were just curious, but Twisted Fate panicked, and with a flash of light, found himself in an empty storeroom of an apothecary.
Boxes of dried herbs and other plants surrounded Twisted Fate as he gasped for breath, trying his best not to hyperventilate. An unsettling feeling rested in his gut. Although he had been in several tavern and casino scuffles, never before had he had the impulse to kill or had he felt the adrenaline rush that only comes when one is on the brink of death.
Finding himself calmer after several minutes, he pushed open the door and stepped into the shop. Keeping his head low, he crossed the empty shop and headed for the door, only for the wizened shopkeeper to call out: "Get out, you gypsy kid. Ain't nobody want to see the likes of you here!"
Twisted Fate felt resentment boil, but instinctively suppressed it. Acting on his feelings would only bring more trouble than it was worth. Stepping out into the street, he was greeted with a deluge of colors, smells and sounds. Zaun was chaotic by nature, and the rougher parts of town were only more so. Along the sidewalks lay various shops and houses, each flaunting something different. An acrid smell drifting out of a shop caused Twisted Fate to veer away from it, and he crossed onto the other side of the pathway.
Several teenagers, covered in Shimmer, glowed a sharp red as they spied him. Catching the abrupt change in their mood, Twisted Fate resisted the urge to flick a card into his palm.
"Get outa here, you dirty thief," the largest teenager jeered, his right arm a deformed stump.
"Yea, we got no space for you gypsies here," another picked up, taunting him.
Bored teenagers tended to pick fights, and Twisted Fate kept his cool as he walked on. He was utterly lost in this unfamiliar town, having only come because of Dr. Rath's offer, but there was bound to be a gambling den somewhere around the area.
Not two streets down the road, the unmistakeable scent of fresh cards and drunken men caught Twisted Fate's attention. He snapped his head to the left, catching sight of a sign with two dice on it, and didn't fail to notice how people drew away from him. Whether it was due to the mysterious glow in his eyes, or his background, he didn't know.
He approached the den, pushing through the thick curtain that blocked the streetlight from filtering into the musty rooms. The place wasn't large by any standards, but there was a variety of different people gambling their fortunes away here. A place to earn some quick money.
Twisted Fate found a table with three men seated on it. They inclined with their heads, inviting him over, and he pulled a chair over. He looked at the arrangement of cards and dice on the table and judged that it was a game of Tremolo.
"Tremolo?" he asked, and when the others nodded, he eyed the standard decks of cards and dice that were used. He had perhaps four identical decks stashed somewhere, as well as three rigged ones and six sets of rigged dice. He drew from the central pile, spreading out the pretty terrible hand for him to see.
He noted that a man standing a ways behind him seemed to be stamping and moving oddly, but abruptly stopped when Twisted Fate turned around, as if stretching. Considering how the others at this table were clearly cheating, he arranged his hand into a stack, switching out two cards in the process for a far more advantageous hand.
The others placed their bets, all significant in size, and they glared at the tiny pile of coins that Twisted Fate brought out. It was all he had, and he shrugged indifferently. After the first two rounds, it became clear to him that the other three at the table were working together. Their hands were just too coordinated, designed to ensnare him.
However, Twisted Fate had switched out the dice for his rigged ones while he distracted them by faking an accidental reveal of his hand. The dice had tracks of mercury running inside them, making them easy to manipulate with an experienced hand, but just as random as usual to the unsuspecting.
Rolling sets of perfect numbers after perfect numbers, Twisted Fate quickly swept away the money of the others at the table, although the money wasn't his yet. Everything would be determined by this final hand, a cruel rule that had doomed many a skilled player. He showed his hand, now completely composed of his own cards, and quickly swept his gaze over the other cards that the opponents held. He had slowly but surely switched out all the cards with his own, and he could read what cards they all held by the covert differences in patterns of the cards.
Confident, he waited as his opponents dejectedly lay down the rest of their cards, inevitably losing the hand to Twisted Fate. He nodded in appreciation to the people sitting at the table, and dropped the large piles of golden coins into one of his pockets. He stood up, and walked away from the table, heading towards the exit.
"Bloody heck, you see that man's eyes," he heard a man whisper, "bet you he magicked his way to earn our gold."
"Naw, magicians don' dress like that," another replied softly, as if that settled the matter.
Hiding a smile beneath his face, Twisted Fate sensed a hand try to dip into his pocket. Wheeling around, his arm shot out and caught the wrist of small child, no older than the age of nine. A skilled thief for one his age. Twisted Fate glared at the kid, who was trying his best to look innocent, and let him go. There was nothing he could do to bring justice here, save for rip the poor fools off, and he left the premises.
Knowing that he had a reputation in that gambling den now, it would make cheating there in the future that much more difficult. Such a lifestyle necessitated that he move every once in a while, to avoid incarceration and local hostility. The unsettling feeling remained in Twisted Fate, an emotion he couldn't quite identify, something that kept him alert and unsteady at the same time.
He decided that the best course of action at this point would be to get a fresh set of clothing. A rule of his was to always dress well, regardless of the circumstances, and today was no exception. Navigating the twisting streets, Twisted Fate eventually came across a secluded tailor's shop.
He pushed open the wooden door, and saw how a troubled expression instantly graced the tailor's eyes. The man was well dressed, clothed in the latest fashion, and seemed to be idly cutting lines of silk. Stacks of clothing and cloth lined the store, leaving some space for beautiful displays of clothing to hang.
"You're a gypsy, so what are you doing here?" the tailor spoke, narrowing his eyes.
"I've got gold, you need a customer, can we come to a consensus here?" Twisted Fate asked, gazing straight at the tailor.
The tailor's eyes widened, as if realizing something, and mutely nodded.
"Right, of course. What would you want, sir," the tailor asked.
"A new cloak and suit to replace these old ones, and a hat to cover these eyes of mine," was the response.
The tailor set off to work, taking measurements and softly humming to himself, as if distracting himself from something. Twisted Fate's eyes widened, startling the tailor, as he realized what the unsettling feeling was. He was in love.
A/N: Please, do review (even if its not positive), and favorite/follow whatever if you like it! Also, go to my profile for the uncensored version of the story.