Notes found below.
#2
Bilgewater District – 1.27 a.m.
Emergency, it's an emergency.
Vi tells herself as she leaps the whole three stories down from the rooftop, landing with an ear-splitting crack on the asphalt.
Possible life or death emergency.
She is thinking minutes later as she barrels through the front door of Vincent Surello's apartment, sending splinters of wood careening everywhere.
The lights in the immediate area are off, but the Enforcer sees just fine in the dark. From her expeditious scan of the room, there seems nothing visibly amiss, nothing peculiar abound—save for a soft wheezing coming from the direction of (where she infers to be) the master bedroom.
"Hello?" She calls out, nose puckering in reflex as she heads there.
The air in the apartment is stale, almost to the point of being oppressively so, and it smells the way certain houses tend to when their inhabitants neglect the washing of the dishes or the laundry for days on end. There's a veritable hoard of clutter strewn about the ground, making it difficult for Vi and her sizeable gauntlets to navigate—whatever square feet not occupied by cheap plastic furniture, it's covered in stacks of old newspaper bundled in twine or torn cardboard boxes filled to the brim with worthless trinkets.
"Surello? Mr Surello?" Vi calls again, voice sounding out hollow in the enclosed space.
Maybe it's the disquieting stillness, or perhaps the stifling rankness exacerbated by glass windows drawn tight against the stiles. Whatever the case, something about the state of affairs fills Vi with a sense of foreboding, and the Enforcer can feel the tension locked taut in her joints as she makes her way down a lone, narrow hallway that comes to an end in front of a flimsy vinyl door.
"Mr Surello? You in there?" Vi brings her gauntlets up in two urgent raps.
No response, apart for the wheezing coming from within.
Turning the brass knob, Vi steps into the room, mind switched on high alert.
The first thing she notices is a body—Surello's—sprawled at odd angles across the carpeted ground.
The unnatural slant of the man's limbs crumpled beneath his frame possibly indicates he might have been in the midst of getting out of bed when something rendered him immobile and caused him to fall to the current awkward state.
Was he assaulted?
Alarm bells sounded in Vi's head.
Given the circumstances, that is one likely assumption.
But an ensuing sweep of the room and the grounds outside the window reveals no presence of lurking hostiles or dangers on site. And despite the general mess of the room—consistent with that out in the living area—there aren't any signs of a struggle having taken place either.
So what the hell happened here?
Triggering the release on her gauntlets, Vi sets it leaning against the doorframe before approaching the fallen man in long strides, mind racing as she tries to recall the initial action steps from her emergency first aid courses.
'GO DR SHAVPU'—thank god for mnemonics.
"Hello, I am here to help you. Are you alright?" She enunciates clearly, kneeling down by the man's side as she taps him firmly on the shoulders.
At her touch, the man stirs, fingers scuffling weakly against the frayed carpet while the sound of his breathless wheezing changes into something akin to a muffled, liquid moan.
"H-hru—" he utters something; something monosyllabic. Though the Enforcer can't quite make out the word, the way it's spoken—quite literally squeezed out and gurgled from the larynx—sends an involuntary pulse of chills down her spine.
But she promptly shakes it off and gears herself, nimble fingers glossing across the man's skin as she feels for the pulse rate over his carotid.
Level of responsiveness, P on the AVPU scale—she determines while her off-hand flies up to her earpiece.
"Blondie, come in. Blondie."
The girl's attentions must have been focused on other tasks because it takes a beat longer than wonted before the familiar burst of static crackles to life in Vi's ear.
"I'm here."
"Blondie, we've got a civilian casualty on hand. I need you to call an ambulance. Right now."
"Surello—was he attacked?"
"Unclear, no perceivable indications. When I found him, he was semi-conscious and exhibiting signs of heart arrhythmia, shortness of breath, as well as a general spike in body temperature. It's a rudimentary assessment, but symptoms could indicate a stroke or heart attack."
"Dialing dispatch as we speak," Lux replies. "Stay with him Vi, I want you to continue monitoring his vitals before aid arrives."
"Gotcha," Vi affirms, one hand already traveling down the man's pajamas shirt, loosening the top few buttons, while her other hand ranges lightly over the man's limbs. Doesn't seem like anything's broken.
"Mr Surello, I'm going to commence moving you into recovery position. If you experience any discomfort while I do so, let me know, or give a signal, ok?"
The reply that follows is unintelligible, coming out as yet another wet, phlegmy gurgle. Vi expects as much, but still, it's customary procedure.
Cautiously, she takes hold of the man's left arm, adjusting it such that it lies at a right angle to the rest of his body before tucking his other hand beneath the underside of his head. Bending his right knee at a perpendicular angle, she then pulls on the appendage, carefully rolling the man onto his side.
The position, as opposed to one that is supine, would help the casualty maintain an open airway by preventing mechanical and fluid obstruction in the pharynx.
During her time in the VCPD, Vi has come across one too many cases whereby a casualty's loss of consciousness, initially non-fatal, turns out to be when they suffer from hypoxia due to airway blockage. Such cases, Vi has always found to be tragic since death could have otherwise been averted with proper first aid technique. Not that many even bother to educate themselves in first aid these days. Certainly not in Valoran, at least. People too busy looking after their own asses and no one really wants to be liable for the life of someone else.
"10 minutes." Lux's voice through the earpiece.
"Understood," Vi says, before placing a reassuring hand on the fallen man's shoulders. "Hold on a second longer, Mr Surello. You are gonna be fine, there's already an ambulance on the way."
But even as she mouths out the words, she can't help but feel a gnawing feeling of unease settling down in the pits of her stomach.
Off-the-books clinical trials; the Sinister Blade's appearance; a fleeing van with a stolen plate—now we have a man lying unconscious in his own home.
What's the association?
It's entirely too coincidental how events seem to be lining up.
"Blondie?" She calls into her microphone again. "Do me a favor? Pull up medical history files on Vincent Surello."
A small stretch of silence ensues before there's a crackle of static from the other end.
"Just did, let's see… there are existing records at the… Lightshield Memorial Trust hospital. He was last there... fourteen months ago for a screening. As far as I can tell, the man has no prior history pertaining to any major illnesses. I know what you are thinking, I find it odd too."
"I'm not liking this, Lux," Vi shakes her head, sense of unease mounting. "It's all too coincidental. There's something going down here and I think—"
Vi didn't get a chance to finish her thoughts.
Spying a sharp, jerky movement from the corner of her eye, she looks down in time to see her charge—barely responsive all the while—lashing out and seizing her on her right forearm before tugging her down with some surprising strength.
Catching herself from tipping forward, the Enforcer's stares down at the man with no small degree of alarm.
"Grkk."
The man's eyes are wide open now. His mouth opening and closing as he stares Vi dead in the eye, futile attempts to form words resulting in a wet, terrible gurgle bubbling out from the depths of his throat.
"Gruuk…ghrrukkk…rhhel—"
What happens next, it happens too fast.
The grip on Vi's arm tightens as Surello enters into bodily seizure, lips frothing uncontrollably while his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head till only the whites are visible.
The sound of dreadful gurgling rises to a pitch, before being unceremoniously cut off by a dull splat that rings hollow through the room.
Vi feels the warmth of something liquid hits her in the face. She doesn't need to see, the metallic tang she tastes off her lips lets her know that it's blood.
"The f—what the fuck?"
Shouting in a voice two-octaves higher than she cares to admit, the Enforcer instinctively scrambles backwards, nearly toppling a dresser over in the process. Her mind reels as she struggles to make sense of the sight before her.
Vincent Surello's fingers are still twitching; his legs still spasming, even if there's now a yawning cavity replacing the area where his abdominal walls should have been.
The worst part—there is now something, something, slowly inching its way out through the hollows.
Vi feels a dull burn in her stomach as it churns.
Breath clenched tight in her throat, she watches as, in slow pumping motions, the something steadily slides its body out, landing on the floor in a puddle of ichor with a wet, sickening plop.
Free from the confines of Surello's bodily cage, Vi is able to see it better now. Whatever the thing is, it roughly resembles a worm: plump, bloated, and about one palms' length with a wide, flat girth.
It's probably parasitic in nature, and if anything, Vi surmises that it's aggressive. Because hell, it'd just busted the fuck out of a man's abdomen and is now slowly lurching its way towards her in unnatural, slithering movements.
Whatever the thing wants with her, the Enforcer cares not to find out. Hackles full on erected at this point, she proceeds to stamp the front end of the abomination straight into the ground, the moist crush of it beneath her boot heel bringing about some sense of perverted gratification.
"Vi," there's a crackle of static in her ear. "Vi?"
For a moment, the Enforcer revels in the familiar comfort of the other's voice, especially in light of the current situation.
"Vi. Are you alright?"
"Yes," she finally breathes. "Yes, I am. But Vincent Surello might not be."
"He isn't." Lux's reply is terse. "He's gone. Analyzed markers from thermal signatures off your goggles."
"You saw what happened then?" Vi asks even as she moves to check the body for a pulse.
There's a sound of faint swallow on the other end. "The last part, yes." It appears the normally staunch and stalwart girl has been unnerved as well.
"First responders would be arriving on scene soon, Vi. That thing—whatever it was you've stomped on, I need you to retrieve it. We can't risk a cover up, or even the chance of the police botching up here."
Vi looks down at the mess of squashed bits smeared across the carpet a few ways from Surello's body.
"Got it," she says, albeit not before cursing colorfully under her breath.
Damn fucking nuts.
This isn't turning out to be a good day.
Lux's Base, Heart of Noxian Tunnels – 3.02 a.m.
The golden girl did not give much away when Vi dragged herself back to base.
True to her usual stoic demeanor, she took one look at the red on Vi's attire and promptly directed her to the medical area without so much as a word.
Still, the telltale signs are there if one knows where to look. And from the stiff set of Lux's jaw, to the slight darkening of her storm-blue eyes, Vi senses that the loss of life this night has fazed the girl far more than she lets on.
Vi understands. Death is something they are no strangers to. Vi herself has seen her fair share of deaths while working the beat, and yet, no matter how many times she finds herself exposed to it, it doesn't ever get any easier. And tonight, she'd failed to prevent a death from happening right under her nose.
Unforeseen circumstances. That is what the whole night can be boiled down to.
The Sinister Blade appearing had been unexpected, and Surello harboring some kind of bio-organism in his body is something Vi could have never foreseen in a million years. Nonetheless, it doesn't change the outcome of things. She failed. They failed. And things could have gone better.
Well. No shit. Vi is thinking, jaws clenching as she threads a line of suture along the fresh wound acquired from her earlier confrontation with the Sinister Blade.
At the moment, the Enforcer sits perched atop a black coral bench of galvanized steel, surrounded by large bottles of isopropyl, sterile gauze and other emergency medical supplies. She is trying her utmost to patch herself up, but is making a downright awful mess of things, in all honesty. The size and distance of her stitchings along the wound edge are neither consistent nor aesthetically pleasing, but then again, Vi has never been that good at sewing.
In need of a temporary distraction from the frustration and discomfort, she lets her eyes wander to the blonde figure seated at the far end of the room, lips pressed in a hard, thin line as she stares fixatedly at one of the multiple monitor displays before her.
Now, where have I seen that look before? Vi muses mirthlessly as her suture needle once again pierces flesh. Lux and Cait would get along well, she reckons, watching as Lux's slender fingers flashes at a lightning-fast pace across the keyboard.
The supercomputer Lux is currently seated at is one beast of a system. To Vi's knowledge, it's a custom-made built the girl designed herself.
At a glance, the set up consists of a two-rack system with a multi-core processor connected to three large panels of high definition flat screen monitors, with each panel serving a separate function.
The rightmost panel is where Lux keeps track of the comings and goings in the city with relation to police and emergency bandwidth. The leftmost, and biggest panel, is dedicated to city surveillance and constantly shows a grid of four-by-four surveillance footage taken from city and traffic cameras scattered throughout; these images cycle to varying spots in the city at periodic intervals. The mid-panel is where Lux conducts most of her work and research, which entails hacking into other systems whenever necessary.
The technology involved in the built is cutting edge; most of the primary parts must have cost a bundle to acquire, and Vi wagers it must have taken a bit of time to put the whole system together, especially if Lux had gone at it alone, in secret, without help. The outcome is rather impressive, and much the same can be said about the nature of the base itself.
When Lux first trusted her enough to bring her into the folds (it took about five months, and another two and a half for Vi to learn her identity), she had been awed by the extent of Lux's dedication, not to mention, the substantial amount of money, devoted to her cause.
From what the girl told her, it'd taken her nearly three years to set the place up into what it is today, when before it'd been nothing more than a large cavernous hole.
According to Lux's myriad of charts (there had been several drafts: a second, a third, and subsequently, a tenth), said cavernous hole lies right beneath the heart of Noxus—hence its name: the Noxian tunnels—and branches out into an extensive nexus of underground passageways of varying sizes that ultimately converge to hidden entry points at different locations in the city (perhaps even the outskirts).
Much of these passageways are still unexplored. There's simply too many, and too confusing. Lux had warned Vi about venturing out into uncharted areas, given how easily one can go astray; even now, she sends out drones periodically to mark out routes as well as to find exit points. So far, she has only managed to uncover two concealed openings leading out to Noxus and the Demacia district.
The discovery of a labyrinth deep beneath the streets of Valoran had been shocking, to say the least. Vi had absolutely no inkling of its existence prior to her collaboration with Lux. The tunnels did not show up on any existing blue prints or city plans, and a perusal through the yellowed books and archives that documented Valoran's turbid history yielded no results either. The tunnels appear as good as lost.
How then, did Lux come across it?
Lux was never that specific about the details. All she told Vi was that she followed up on some obscure pointer that eventually led her to the location of one of the concealed openings starting from the Demacia end. It then took her months of tenuous exploring, as well as sending out various drones—many of which had gotten lost in the process—to stumble upon the cavern (or the heart of the tunnels, as Lux likes to call it) where their base is currently located.
The heart itself has an expanse slightly smaller than that of a soccer field. It consists of three distinct chambers—the North, East and South wings—elevated around a rough circular pool of natural spring deposit filled with water so pristine, it sparkles a bright green even in the dim lowlights of the cave.
All wings are installed with a temperature regulator—powered by the cavern's own working generator—in order to combat the dank cavern conditions. The North and South wings are immediately accessible from one of three main passages that lead into the heart, but the East wing, however, is only accessible via a raised stone walkway connected from both the North and South sides.
Lux spends most of her time in the North wing, since that is where her supercomputer is housed. The machine sits at the left-most end of the wing, taking up substantial space, while the other end consists of a medical area (essentially a bench) and a small pantry (with much of the food being either dried or preserved).
The East wing is the smallest of the three, and is built with the purpose of serving as a detainment unit. To Vi's knowledge, the unit has never actually been used before, and in her opinion, its security could afford to be more robust.
The final, and largest wing serves as the base's garage as well as a place dedicated to Lux's other high-tech equipment. At one end of the wing parked a small row of motorbikes; unmarked and painted a shade of uniform matted black. Adjacent to this sits a single, low-riding, armored vehicle—similarly black and unmarked—the make of which, Vi is not entirely sure of, but has a nagging suspicion that it may well be a military prototype now defunct. How Lux came to have it in her possession, Vi had been immensely curious back then. Granted, everything soon became a little less unbelievable once they made a mutual disclosure of identity (although Vi suspects Lux had known hers from the start).
Imagine Vi's reaction when she found out that the vigilante who contacted her with offers of partnership turned out to be the Luxanna Crownguard of the Crownguard fortune.
For the uninitiated, the Crownguards count amongst the wealthiest families in the city of Valoran, and months ago if someone had told Vi that the frivolous, hard-partying bimbo of the Crownguard fortune is secretly a masked vigilante by night—and only the most dedicated of them—she would have shrieked her head off laughing.
But then again. That's the thing about people in this City. They tend to surprise you, and people are often not who they say they are.
Vi of all people should know this.
Finishing up on the last of her stitches, the Enforcer reaches for the pair of suture scissors lying on a surgical tray, grimacing as she snips the thread a few lengths shy of the knot. Examining her handiwork, she ultimately decides it's a far cry from even being barely decent, but it'll have to do.
Zipping herself back up, she pads over to where the blonde is seated, fingers still working relentlessly on the keyboard.
"You sure that won't become infected?" The blonde speaks without looking up.
"Feels fine."
"Did you debride the wound beforehand?"
Vi isn't quite sure she knows what 'debride' even means. Then again, she isn't quite sure she wants to tell that to Lux.
"Yeah, sure," she mutters, quickly changing the subject: "Have you managed to track the mystery van?"
"Not exactly," Lux frowns while squinting at a grid of numbers rolling off her monitor screen. "I tracked the van to Zaun. Cameras in Zaun are sparse. Sparser than in Noxus or Bilgewater. It seems that beyond the limits of Sector 15, City Hall don't even bother installing cameras at periodic intervals, or any cameras at all, for that matter. I managed to track the van as far as Sump Street before I lost it completely."
"No exact location then."
"No. Only a general location, but the area covered is much too extensive."
"The Sinister Blade mentioned a name—"
"Singed. She used a male pronoun too."
"Any idea who he might be then?"
"I ran the name through the databases. Nothing."
"Sounds like a street name, like the ones they are fond of giving when one signs up for the Noxian Mob Membership," Vi's expression turns thoughtful. "Though I'm not sure I've ever heard of the name 'Singed'. Not from my sources, not from my days working Vice."
"Same."
"Want me to ask around?"
"As the Enforcer or as a detective?" Lux asks, throwing a quick sideway glance at Vi. "To be honest, I prefer neither. No offense, but you lack subtlety, and I rather not have anyone know we're poking around."
"None taken, I suppose. You know, if we are hitting dead ends, the Sinister Blade can be a good place to start. She showed up at Surello's apartment right before the bad goes down. I'm thinking at the very least, she knows something about Pharmex."
"I was thinking the same. Based on traffic surveillance footage, she went after the van but lost them early on, right around the corner of fifth and sixth on Riverside. I'm guessing she doesn't know where they are holing up either," Lux pauses to massage her temples. "I managed to track her back to an apartment complex located at 22nd Bowry Street in Piltover. She was trying to be careful, made a couple of detours and stopped once to change at an alley. Well, there are significantly more cameras in Piltover, so that was unfortunate for her, but very helpful for me."
"Can you uncover her identity?"
"I was running through the profiles of tenants living at the Bowry Street complex. One of the profiles, in particular, raised a red flag."
With a click-clack of a key, Lux brings up an e-document on the central monitor along with a picture of a scanned passport.
"Meet Elizabeth Dennings. Moved in three weeks prior and paid the mandatory six months lease, full, in cash. Looks familiar to you?" Lux asks, while proceeding to enlarge the profile picture on the passport.
Vi studies the woman on the screen.
The photo appears to be taken under dim-lighting, and shows a brunette with a small, oval-shaped face and a pleasant smile framed by a set of well-defined cheekbones.
"Not too sure. Could be. The facial structure looks similar... her eyes though, they are hazel. The Sinister-whatever's were something like a sea-green."
"Contacts, perhaps? In any case, Ms Dennings here is squeaky clean. I can't find her anywhere, no records, no relatives, and not so much as a parking ticket."
"Fits the pattern of a forged identity," Vi says. "You think we should pay her a visit? I'm not sure she'll appreciate us showing up at her place."
"Well, she certainly won't appreciate you showing up, now, would she. She did threaten to kill you." Lux swivels around in her chair such that she is now face-to-face with Vi. "Speaking of, mind telling me what happened earlier?"
"Nothing much to say. You saw what happened. The woman came out of nowhere. Her circumstances seemed suspicious and—"
"And you attacked her."
"She might not have pulled the first punch, blondie, but my instincts told me she was about to."
"Mm," Lux hums. "You could be right on that count. But I can't say I'm a fan of your 'punch first, think later' approach. The thing you brought back, for example. I would have preferred if the sample came back alive, or at the very least, less mangled."
Vi runs her fingers sheepishly through her hair, her fake hair. "That was my bad. Tell ya what, I'll keep what you say in mind."
"Please do." Lux swivels back to her computer.
"Speaking of the worm-thing, what do you intend to do with it?"
The bio-sample currently sits in a specialized containment unit in the South wing.
"Don't worry about that, I know someone who can help."
Soraka's Bungalow, Demacia District – 5.01 a.m.
'Tap, tap.'
There's soft tapping on the window.
Soraka's nose twitches as she tosses over in her bed.
Perhaps it's her imagination. Her bedroom is all the way up on the third floor of her residence.
'Tap, tap.'
She wraps the blankets tighter around her body and burrows her face deeper into the lush comforts of her pillow.
'Tap, tap.'
The dark-haired woman groans.
It's not going away. Why isn't it going away?
Eyes peeking open, she rolls over to cast a bleary glance at the window, and… almost has a start.
Perched on the narrow balcony outside, a willowy figure looms stark against the pale starlight, gloved fingers rapping lightly on the floor-to-ceiling crystal panes.
It takes more than a few seconds for the shock to fully register, and when it does, Soraka bolts upright, haze of sleep falling away with her silken sheets.
Oh my.
It's been awhile since she's last had a visit like this.
Heart speeding up involuntarily, the woman gets out of bed and pads over to the windows, deft fingers working to unlock the panes before sliding them open to let in her early morning visitor.
"Has it been so long that you've forgotten to use the front door?" She jibes, clutching the front of her slip tighter to her chest when a chilly wind nestles through the window gap.
She spies a small upturn at the corner of her visitor's lips as she steps in, but her expression remains hard to read otherwise. Unsurprising. Considering the black tinted visor partially obscuring her features.
That wasn't there the last time. Soraka notes as she eyes the woman up and down. The outfit is completely different too.
Nonetheless, there's a degree of familiarity in the way the visitor carries herself, leaning easily against the white marbled walls as she withstands the scrutiny of Soraka's gaze.
"I thought you like it when I visit like this." The tone is crisp. The voice, with its clear and assured quality, is familiar. "What was it you said? Thrilling."
Soraka finds herself smiling.
"This is nice," She quips, gesturing to the woman's figure. "I must say I'm not used to seeing you this way. Weren't you always in bits and pieces when you came knocking, asking me to patch you up?"
The visitor chuckles then, a sound soft and dulcet.
"That will probably come in due time. Right now? I need a favor."
"Why, anything for the infamous Star Guardian."
There's a short pause.
"Actually, it's Luminos now."
Oh.
Soraka's brow arches, but she doesn't say a word.
That would explain the changes in costume then, and the overall… shift in demeanor.
The old Star Guardian had radiated a more jovial vibe. Something Soraka thinks could be partly attributed to her old attire. It was more girlish (or was it garish?) back then, modeled after something akin to those magical girl costumes certain adolescents are (so inexplicably) drawn to.
She chuckles internally at the memory.
This new Star Guardian—no—this new Luminos seems more somber somehow. More wearied.
Her costume—a viridescent one piece with strategically placed armor platings—is certainly far more practical and appropriate, even if it marks her with an aura of intimidation. But perhaps that's the point.
Five years is a long time, a little too long for anyone to remain stagnant. And that's the thing with people, isn't it? They change, their circumstances change, everyone is always becoming someone else. For a moment, Soraka lets her mind wanders as she thinks about how old the vigilante before her really is. There had been ample speculations back then, and five years ago, she couldn't have been a year older than nineteen—
There's a sound of light rustling as Luminos rummages through the small black knapsack slung across her shoulder. Digging deep, the girl produces a palm-sized petri dish and holds it out to the dark-haired woman, who tentatively accepts.
"Why, you shouldn't have," Soraka deadpans. "I didn't prepare any presents for you." Squinting, she brings the dish up against the moonlight.
There's a slab of something purple lying in it. Something purple and oozing.
"What is it?" She asks, nonplussed.
"I was hoping you would tell me."
Soraka finds her brows knitting.
"I could, but I'll need to run some tests." Lowering the dish, she finds Luminos gazing at her—actually, it's hard to tell with the visor. "The usual then, I suppose?"
The blonde nods.
From their past dealings, the usual implies confidential, top priority treatment with no questions asked. And while Soraka turns the transparent dish over in her hands, she fleetingly muses how a prominent researcher like herself feels so inclined to help out a stray vigilante despite her hectic schedule. Then again, Luminos did save her life once before. They have a history together—well, sort of. Kind of.
Besides, there's always been something about this woman.
"Star—Luminos?" Soraka starts.
The blonde turns around, one foot already half out the window. There's slight tensing in her body when Soraka leans in close. So close, the dark-haired woman could smell the faint scent of sandalwood and spice on her. But, the blonde does not shy away and taking that as assent, Soraka brushes her lips lightly against the vigilante's cheeks. The act is chaste, barely even a kiss.
The researcher pulls back.
Moonlight streams through the waves of the visitor's soft blonde hair, and although Soraka can't see her eyes, she imagines they are hard. This woman in front of her is no longer that same girl she knew all those years ago.
The blonde turns away.
"Stay safe," Soraka says.
But the vigilante is already gone.
A/N:
1. Sorry for the late update.
2. Certain technical aspects of the story deviate from reality.
3. The whole story deviates from reality.
4. Lux's superhero costume is meant to resemble her Commando skin.
5. Soraka's appearance is meant to resemble her Divine skin.
6. Chapter titles are provisional.
7. Ionia is not part of Valoran City. For the sake of future plotlines, it's located on a separate continent. The same can be said for the Freljord.
8. Thank you for reading.