The young boy sat in the forest with his head in his hands, tears falling from his cheeks as he thought about the decision he had just made. He couldn't stand another moment in that camp; the squalor, the pain... The boy looked up, his eyes puffy and red. No more. He wanted more from his life, that much he knew. Where he would go, what he would do, he didn't know. But he chose to make his own destiny, and it started here.
Suddenly, from the trees there came a soft rustling, followed by an ominously low growl. The boy stood up immediately, wiping his face of the tears to look for the source of the noise. He noticed them a moment later, a pack of wolves slowly approaching him. He was frozen in fear, watching the animals creep closer and closer. The boy, terrified, turned around and ran through the forest, not daring to look back at the fierce creatures chasing after him, not daring to look into the face of his untimely death.
Twisted Fate rounded the corner hastily, searching everywhere for a hiding place, somewhere he could evade his pursuers. The alley he had entered was almost barren; not even so much as a trash can to hide in. He thought quickly, sprinting down the length of the alley as he heard the footsteps of the men chasing him close behind.
"He's over there! Get 'im!"
Fate didn't look back; he didn't need to see them to know how close they were. Exiting the alley, he took off down the street looking for a place to duck into. The shops were all closed, it being so late in the night. He was breathing heavily, his throat burning due to the cold air of the night. He started to despair, hearing the men behind him coming up, but suddenly a store light turned on and the door swung open. He didn't hesitate for a moment to run inside and close the door as quietly as possible, leaning against the door with his heart pounding to listen for footsteps outside. They passed by quickly, and Fate could hear them shouting to eachother about where they thought he could have been headed.
Twisted Fate breathed a heavy sigh of relief, leaning back against the door and sliding down to the floor. Seeing that there was no one in the store, he sat there for a few minutes, panting and coughing. After he had caught his breath, he leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes. Just another day at the office for Twisted Fate; another angry mob of gamblers looking for blood after being cheated by the infamous Card Master. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. If he wasn't being chased by a mob, it was by a scorned woman, or some old enemy. He usually thought nothing more of it.
But tonight, he was aware of a strange feeling in his heart. A feeling of failure. It wasn't that he felt that he was unsuccessful in what he did- he was the best at what he did. What he felt was that something was... missing. All his life, the only thing Twisted Fate could remember was cheating and lying and stealing. It was what he was born and bred to do. He was born to a family of poor gypsy parents, who stole from passing travellers to earn enough money for food every night. That was what Twisted Fate had learned, and he honed his talent to an art form. He could never recall feeling sorry for it, since he had no other choice. He was no noble, he had no special skill in craftsmanship or war. He was just a poor gypsy kid living on the street.
Just a poor gypsy kid. That was what was bothering him that night. Twisted Fate knew that his life was going nowhere. He suddenly desired more of his life than to steal from idiots in underground gambling halls. He wanted to do something great, something he could be truly proud of. He shook his head. He knew damn well there was no way that would happen.
Twisted Fate's head fell back against the door, leaving his eyes staring up at the wooden ceiling above him, his thoughts running back into his past, a place he made a point not to return to. His mind brought him back to the first time anyone had ever shown him compassion in his life, the first time he'd ever witnessed something different than the daily reality he'd grown accustomed to, living only for oneself. He would always remember that day.
The boy panted heavily. He felt like he couldn't run anymore, but his body propelled him onward, desperately clinging onto the desire to live. He could hear the wolves behind him, the rustling of the foliage as they chased after him. With every fiber of his being, the boy prayed for salvation.
His prayers went unanswered as he tripped on a fallen branch and landed face down in the leaves. Immediately, he sprang up and backed away from the wolves, now circling around him. The boy closed his eyes, thinking that this would be the last thing he would ever experience: lost in a dark forest, eaten alive by ravenous creatures without his family, friends or anyone knowing he was there. Alone.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light illuminated everything, blinding the boy. He turned his head away and shielded his eyes from the bright light. When he finally opened his eyes, the wolves were laying on the ground, lifeless. The boy was astonished, and looked around to find out what had been his savior. A man stood along the wooded path, wearing a long black coat and hat that covered his eyes. The boy said nothing, too amazed by what had just happened.
The man looked down at the boy and smiled.
"This ain't the place for a kid. Come with me."
He was in an antiques shop, an old store probably owned by a family for many generations. Piltover was full of these little places. However, the only things hanging from the walls or displaying on the shelves were clocks. Hundreds of them, in all shapes and sizes, all ticking away, hands approaching midnight.
Twisted Fate sighed. "Man, this place gives me the creeps..." he muttered under his breath. He really didn't want to stay here, but he was curious as to why this shop was suddenly opened just when he needed it. There was something about this place that bothered him.
"Hello? Anyone here?" he called out.
There was no response.
Twisted Fate turned around to look outside again, but saw no one in the street. He took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the shop, looking around at all the clocks, body and nerves tensing up. As he walked down the aisle toward the counter in the back of the store, though, one of the clocks caught his eye. It was a large grandfather clock, made of a dark brown colored wood, expertly made by a trained artisan. The pendulum in the center rocked back and forth slowly and deliberately, mesmerizing Twisted Fate more and more with each swing.
The movement was hypnotizing. Fate's eyes followed it, going back and forth, losing himself again in his thoughts.
Time. The word flashed across his mind then disappeared. To think, what seemed like ages ago, he was once a young boy, scared and alone, wandering these very streets, taking in the sights and the sounds and the lessons of his mentor. He remembered them vividly, his formative years, learning how to fend for himself all over again in the seedy underbelly of the city.
The boy followed the cloaked man down the path through the forest, grateful, but also confused. Why had the man come here in the first place? the boy wondered. And, he also thought, just who is he? The boy said nothing, though, afraid that his questions would anger the man and leave him stranded once more.
The two travelled through the night, the boy right on the heels of the stranger, terrified of leaving his side. When they finally emerged from the forest, they looked out upon a marvelous, sprawling city that the stranger told him was called Piltover. The boy was amazed; he had never seen any place like it before. It was a grand city, shining and pristinely white, visible even in the dark night. However, the amazement wore off as the stranger led the boy not to the grand skyscrapers and marvelous buildings, but to the outskirts of the city, a hovel where the buildings were gloomy, the storefronts were mostly in disrepair, in stark contrast to the splendor of the rest of the city
The stranger led the boy to a tall, gloomy-looking building deep in the heart of the slum. The two went around, not through the front door, but around back through a dark alley. The man opened the door at the back and ushered the boy inside quickly, slamming the door shut behind him.
The boy stood by the door, still shaking with fear. He didn't know this man, but he had saved him from certain death, so he chose to trust him for the time being. The man paced forward into the room, then turned around and leaned against the wall facing the boy.
"So," he began, "what exactly were you doin' out there in the forest by yourself?"
The boy gulped, trying to calm his nerves so his voice wouldn't shake.
"I... I was running away from... home," he said after a few moments.
The man said nothing, simply staring at the kid in front of him. They stood in silence for a long time until he finally spoke.
"Alright, look, kid. I wanna get something straight here. I ain't no good Samaritan. Normally, under any other circumstance, I'dda left you there in that forest and went on my way." He looked away from the boy and shook his head. "But I didn't. There's something special about you, kid. You got the same thing in you that I do. We're really a lot alike, I can tell."
The man pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly to the boy, who was still confused and scared, standing nervously in the corner of the room. The man knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "So, what can I call you then, kid?"
The boy remained silent.
"Alright, then, I'll give you a name. Let's see..." He stood up now, walking slowly away from the boy with his hand on his chin.
"You need something mysterious, something that'll stick in people's heads." He stood in thought for a moment, but suddenly he had a burst of inspiration, turning to the boy with a roguish grin.
"I've got it. You tempted fate back in those woods, kid. You went against million to one odds, but you came out alive. Destiny's got nothing on you. From now on, you're name's gonna be-" he made a flourish with his hands- "Twisted Fate!"
Twisted Fate smiled. "Wow! That's really cool!" he said, to which the man removed his hat and bowed down. "Showmanship is a specialty of mine."
Fate thought about the name, imagining people far and wide muttering it in awe. One day, he thought. One day everyone'll know that name.
But the boy was brought out of his thoughts after a moment. "What's your name?" he asked the man.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? Well, I'm sorry kid, I can't tell you my real name. But I can give you my stage name." He stood up tall, stretching out his arms in a grand gesture.
"The Ace of Hearts!" he boomed, showing a toothy grin. "But you can call me Ace."
Fate smiled to himself in the dimly lit store.
"Crazy ol' bastard," he muttered under his breath.
He could still remember the days being taught by his mentor, the man who showed him the art of deception. Ace was a magician, a performer in the slums of Piltover, doing shows anywhere he could find someone willing to pay. Life was difficult. He barely scraped by, despite his tremendous magical talent, and often had to resort to more underhanded methods to make ends meet, performing magic on the very streets: people's wallets simply disappeared.
Twisted Fate learned everything he knew about being a conman from Ace: from playing suckers in cards to playing the daughters of noblemen to scam them out of a nice chunk of their father's money. It may not have been easy street, but the two got by for a long time, hustling and surviving, trusting no one but eachother.
But the good times wouldn't last forever. One night, after the usual scam, the two were being chased through the streets after a particularly high stakes game, when they got caught by the goons of one of the most prominent mob bosses in the city. The two were cornered in an alleyway, being backed against the wall by the thugs when Ace suddenly turned to look into Twisted Fate's eyes.
"You have to go, kid! I have enough mana to get you out of here, but promise me that you'll survive!" he shouted. "I've taught you enough about that." Despite the situation, he smiled darkly before his eyes and hands began to glow brightly golden.
Fate did not have time react before he felt himself be raised up, teleported, to a place he'd never seen. He was in the middle of a field, just outside of Piltover, looking out at the huge white towers on the skyline. As he sat there, unable to speak or think, a tear fell out of his eye, running down his face until it fell down to the wet grass.
He stayed there, sitting in that field, alone with this thoughts for what felt like hours before he finally decided what to do. He stood up from the grass wiped his pants of the dew that had accumulated there. As he turned to begin his journey south, he noticed on the ground a black hat. The same as that of his mentor. Wiping his face, the young man picked up the hat, looking at it in his hands. Closing his eyes for a moment, he gripped the rim tightly. Then, after a moment, he opened his eyes and lifted the hat onto his head.
With a stoic look in his jaded eyes, Twisted Fate set off into the distance to find a new home.
Twisted Fate sighed. Those were hard times. Ace was the first person he had ever felt a connection to, and he was gone now. But, even though they'd lied and cheated and stole, Ace always told Fate that someday, he had to make something of himself. He knew this was not the way to live, but he had no other choice. Fate promised that day to do something great.
Yeah, he thought. Somethin' great. Like what?
A voice took him forcibly out of his reverie, coming from behind him:
"Hello, Mr. Fate. I've been expecting you."
Twisted Fate turned around immediately, backing up and bumping into the great clock behind him. He slipped the card he held in his sleeve out and enchanted it, holding it ready to throw. "Who the hell are you?!" he asked hoarsely.
The man smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. His eyes were a clear green, and they seemed to pierce through whatever they looked at. The man wore a tailor-made power suit- black with a red tie. His appearance was one that could be forgotten a minute after meeting him. He spoke now, with a slight Demacian accent.
"My name is Maximillian Whitemane. I am one of the chairmen of the League of Summoners Military Intelligence Section Six, or LSMI6."
Twisted Fate frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about? Military Intelligence?" he asked.
Max nodded his head. "Yes, Mr. Fate. I brought you here through a meticulously planned operation to ask you a simple question."
The Card Master eyed the man carefully. "And what's that?"
Max took a few steps towards a silver-lined clock laying on a shelf. He raised a hand to gently touch the face of the clock, then turned back to look at Twisted Fate.
"Tell me, Mr. Fate, are you content with your life as it is?" he asked, his voice even and measured.
Fate's eyes narrowed. "What the hell kinda question is that? What do you mean?"
Max smiled. "So you mean to tell me that you're perfectly content living in the shadows of shady streets, cheating at poker games and living in notoriety everywhere you go? Does this satisfy you?"
Twisted Fate couldn't respond. He wanted to spit something back at him, but he was at a loss for words. The man was saying exactly what he was thinking a few minutes ago. Fate stayed silent, but let on nothing of what he was feeling.
"Don't you desire more from your life? You have extraordinary talents, limitless potential. You can do great things, Mr. Fate. And my organization can help you."
"Oh yeah? What exactly can you do to 'help' me?" Fate asked harshly.
Max smiled again.
"You know better than anyone that Valoran can be a very dangerous place, Mr. Fate. It is filled with hate, violence, and corruption. The fragile peace we have is threatened every day by those who wish to further their own goals through war and anarchy. Many years ago, when the Rune Wars finally came to an end, the peace forged between the city-states of Valoran was under constant threat of being completely shattered. My organization was founded to protect this world from ever falling into such a state of conflict again. LSMI6 is a league of summoners and heroes that fight every day, hidden under a veil of secrecy and shadows to protect the people of Runeterra."
Fate shook his head. "That's great, but what's this got to do with me, old man? In case you hadn't noticed, I ain't no hero."
Max stepped closer, his voice growing more insistent. "Mr. Fate, you have a chance to become something greater than you are. You have the chance to fight for all of Runeterra, for yourself, your fellow man. We need an operative like you: cold and confident, used to being under the radar. Think about it, Mr. Fate."
The Card Master shook his head. "No way, partner. I ain't risking my tail for a bunch of people who've made my life hell. What do the people of Runeterra care about me? All my life, everyone's had it out for me. This world ain't for heroes. It's a crazy, messed up place where you fight for yourself and no one else. Y'all can have fun playin' secret agent, but count me out."
Fate began walking to the door to leave, but was stopped by Max's voice suddenly ringing out behind him. "Twisted Fate, you are the only hope for the world. Forgive me for being so blunt, but it's true. You have to do this. If not for others, then for yourself."
This stopped him in his tracks. Fate thought about what he had just heard. It sounded ridiculous.
"What are you talkin' about now, old man?"
Max sighed, stepping forward slowly.
"My agents are being compromised all over Valoran. We believe there has been a security breach at LSMI6 headquarters, and we can no longer rely on our field agents to carry out assignments. You are the best candidate we have. No one would suspect you to be working for any organization at all. You would be completely hidden from suspicion. Please, Twisted Fate. You are our only hope."
Fate couldn't believe what he was hearing. It all seemed to crazy to be true, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was in his best interest to help these people. After all, if the world ended, that would mean he would end as well. Fate turned around to face Maximillian, his face carved out of stone. This might have been the first honorable thing Twisted Fate ever did, so he steeled himself for what he was about to say.
"What's it pay?"
Old habits die hard.
Max smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Twisted Fate considered it for a moment. "Alright. I'll help you. But one thing first: I want my record cleared all over Valoran. I don't wanna get hassled by any authorities ever again," he said finally.
Max nodded his head. "Consider it done. Now follow me, if you will, Mr. Fate. The head would like a word with you before your briefing." The man turned around and walked deeper into the store.
Twisted Fate let out a long, drawn out sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment to think about what exactly he was getting into before following Max to the back room of the store.
Of course, he had no idea that he was about to enter a world of impossible danger, unspeakable evil, and adventures that would change his and the lives of all of Runeterra forever.
Hey, guys, I'm PangusMan and this is my first ever fanfic. I hope you guys like it, I'm really trying to work on it consistently and put out chapters in decent time, but make sure that you follow and favorite if you like it and leave a review so I can fix whatever doesn't work or whatever you may have a problem with.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys enjoy this story and all the rest of them I'll be coming out with in the future.
