"Still heart, steady aim."
Quick Prey
Chapter 3
Quinn tried her best to keep herself from covering her nose from the vile stenches that were coming from all around her on the Noxian streets. The streets were just as sickening as how they smelled; homeless and drunks littered the gutters while the higher in social status pretended not to see them—Quinn was in a totally different world. The sun was setting, so she needed to get a lead on Talon before she lost him completely and fails her mission. As she walked, she noticed a lot of suspicious figures watching her as she made her way down the cobblestone walkway. Quinn had picked up a hooded black cloak—very common here to thieves here in Noxus— to hide her Demacian armor. She pulled her hood closer to her face as she took a turn into an alley way.
Hidden in this alley was a door, above the door read "The Leaky Barrel", and on the walls all around her were many wanted signs of various men, all wanted for common thievery and muggings—amateurs. Through the door she could hear yelling and loud music. This has to be a drinking tavern. She looked around to try find a poster of Talon.
Quinn was in luck when she spotted the only poster of Talon in the lot just an arm's reach away. She looked around to see if she was still being watched and when she was sure she wasn't, Quinn carefully pulled the poster off the brick wall. She gazed at the paper between her fingers—she never realized that Talon was actually a good looking young man. The side by side comparison of him with and without his hood was astonishing. The scout couldn't take her own eyes of the assassin's—remembering that night before how those eyes were right before her. His dark eyes were just as captivating even on paper. Quinn subconsciously traced the illustration's angled jaw with her finger.
Snapping back to reality, Quinn folded the poster in half before placing it in her satchel that was concealed by her cloak. I guess the best place to find something out is from the drunken horse's mouth. At least, it's worth a shot. Quinn took a deep breath as she gained enough courage to go walking through the door. Inside the pub, there was nothing but men drinking like there was no tomorrow. The room was filled with laughter, slurred conversations, and the smell of thick liquor. Searching for a place to sit, Quinn saw a few men talking amongst themselves. The scout sat beside them at the bar and listened to what they were saying.
"You know what I heard, I heard that High Command is on a special mission as we speak," said a man with a large dragon tattoo on his greasy face, "And I heard that it was getting information about this Demacian that has been seen around outside of Noxus." The men around him mumbled curses at the mention of Demacia. "Aye and I heard that he might be in Noxus right now."
"Ya must be losing' it; I think somebody would notice if a Demacian came strollin' into the heart of Noxus!" grumbled a bearded man beside him as he took a huge gulp of his pint of beer and belched loudly enough for Quinn to rub her ear. "Besides no one goes around starting shit without the Institute of War gettin' a whiff of it—they see all!"
"Aye, now you're the one that is talking crazy! The Institute don't know shit! Drink your beer, ya fool!" growled the tattooed man.
A Demacian man on the outside of Noxus? Surely they can't be talking about me. Even if it was, nobody knows that I am in Noxus at the very moment. I got to be careful that I don't reveal myself or this whole mission will go up in smoke, or even worse… I get killed here without the Demacian forces even knowing. Quinn thought as she bit her thumb.
"Can I get you something to drink, sir?" asked a bartender on the other side of the counter. Even the employees here look tough; this guy must have been through hell to have his face scarred up. Quinn thought as she looked at the man who was awaiting her answer while cleaning a glass for her.
"I'll have a glass of water, thank you." Quinn said as lowly, yet clearly, as she could. Her heart was at a standstill when she realized that to group of men beside her were looking straight in her direction.
"A glass of water? Boy, ya must be in the wrong place. Nobody gets a glass of water in the Leaky Barrel!" Growled the tattooed man as he stood up in his seat, "This place is for hardened criminals and assassins, and I reckon you don't belong here. So me and my men will just escort you—" Quinn jumped back when a large glass had hit the man in the face. Infuriated, the man grasped the side of his face dripped with blood and beer. All the chatter and laughter ceased within the tavern, the scout felt all the faces turn in her direction and she pulled her hood closer to her face. He turned away from Quinn to where the glass of beer was thrown, "Which one of ye low lives threw that!?"
From the corner of her eye, Quinn noticed that another glass came flying at the fuming man. He ducked and it had smashed on to one of his men's face. The whole group of men jumped from their seats and started pounding on different men in the pub, guilty or not they got their faces full of drunken fists. Quinn watched in shock as a huge brawl erupted before her, chairs and glasses were thrown and the walls and floors were painted with blood and teeth. Quinn decided that this was a good time to make an escape from the scene before authorities—if any existed here on this side of Noxus—arrived. A few other men had the exact same idea as Quinn and she slipped out unseen.
Quinn let out a sigh of relief as she took off the last of her armor. She stretched out her arms while she sat on her surprisingly comfortable cot; even if it did let out a cloud of dust when she rested on it, she was still glad enough to have found a place with an open room this late in the night. From the position of the moon in the sky, Quinn could tell it was almost midnight. Quinn hopped off her bed when she heard a familiar pecking at the window beside her. She opened the window and out sitting on the windowsill was Valor; he had a worried expression across his feathers—as worried as an eagle could look that is. Quinn rubbed her partner's crest with her thumb. Her partner rushed into the arms of the scout with a high-pitched wail.
"You don't have to worry. I'm pretty sure you heard that bar fight a few hours ago, but I'm okay." Quinn whispered to Valor, "I know that you don't want to be cramped up in this little room; you can go off and hunt if you want. I'm just going to be writing in my journal and then hit the hay." Valor blinked before flying off into the night sky. Quinn shut the window quietly—leaving it open enough so if Valor did decided to join her in the room, it was open enough for him to just push with his beak. Before she walked over to the only other pieces of furniture in the room, a desk and chair next to her bed, she glanced out the window once more.
A familiar twist appeared in her stomach as she watched a man being mugged in the alley across her window. The thug held a small blade to the throat of the unarmed man and he gave the thug his bag. Just as Quinn thought, the thug still slit the man's throat. The sight of the man bleeding in the gutter reminded the scout just how close she was to being in the same situation. Stop Quinn, Talon couldn't possibly know where you are. The Demacian tore her attention away from the body, unable to help in any way—she knew compassion was a sign of weakness in Noxus.
Quinn pulled out the small wooden chair, opening her satchel before sitting down, and as soon as she pulled out her journal the portrait of Talon slid under her small table. Groaning as she bent down to retrieve it from under the desk, she subconsciously stared at it once more before hitting her head on the way back up. Ouch, good thing Val wasn't around to see that; he'd be laughing at me. The humiliated scout sat back in her chair, pulling out a few pencils and charcoal as she rubbed the top of her head. Setting all her tools neatly in a row, the scout took another glance at the paper beside her sketch book. Annoyed with the dark eyes staring at her, she flipped the paper over with a low growl.
Quinn loved the feeling of her hands getting dirty from her charcoal, how the pencil felt as she dragged it against paper, and how the mess of lines she created turned into something beautiful. The Demacian exchanged between fast quick strokes and slow long strokes as she bit her lip in concentration. Her mind began wander as she drew…
I wonder what gave me away. Scratch. Could it have been Talon mentioning something to his superiors? Stroke. If he even has anyone that he works for anyway. Scratch, scratch. He does seem like he is the type of man to go by his own command. Stroke, stroke. I wonder what type of man he would have been if he wasn't a wanted assassin all around Runeterra. Long stroke. I wonder if our paths would have ever crossed if that was the case. Short stroke. No, that's impossible. Scratch. He is a Noxian and I am a proud Demacian. Stroke. That's right… Drop pencil. We are two completely different people.
Quinn sat back in her seat, pushing back her short dark hair that fell in her face, and sighed softly. She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't even realized what she had drawn. The scout looked down at her sketch and her hair stood on end. She didn't realize that while thinking of Talon, she actually drew him. Quinn hid her face in her hands from the embarrassingly detailed sketch. Peeking through her fingers, she noticed that his eyes were the things she spent most of her time on—his eyes, steely on paper as they were when she first saw them. Dammit, Quinn get yourself together! Quinn squealed and slammed the journal shut, not even bothering to put it back in her bag.
"It's gotten really late… Maybe I should sleep like I said I was." Quinn whispered to herself as she pushed herself from the wooden chair. As she started walking, the Demacian stubbed her toe on the chair and she bit her lip to keep quiet. The scout fell on the soft bed face first into her pillow, "Damn, even just thinking of that man has got me stupid!" Quinn threw the thin covers of the bed open and laid her head on the dusty pillow. Her mind raced around the thought of the assassin, his blade on her neck, his voice, and the touch of his hand. Irritated, the scout shut her eyes. Go to sleep, girl!
Talon watched the Demacian scout work at the small wooden desk with his breath held. He sat outside her window—for what felt like almost an hour—just observing her concentrate on whatever she had in front of her and the way her brow furrowed when she made a long pencil stroke. When she finally got up from her chair, he rolled his eyes at the clumsy woman hitting her foot on the only thing in the room. The assassin waited as she stopped fussing under the sheets and—when he was sure that she was sound asleep—he pushed the open window open with his fingertips. Did she really leave this window cracked open on purpose? Talon placed one foot after the other on the wooden floor, not even cringing when the board slightly creaked under his weight. He just kept his watchful gaze on Quinn, she didn't move. She actually looked peaceful while she spelt.
Talon's curiosity got the best of him when he turned to the small desk by Quinn's bed—that journal on the desk was almost taunting him. The assassin looked back at the scout before he took the navy journal in his hands. This looks fairly old; maybe there is something in here that will explain why she is here—aside from her prince sending such a klutzy scout to the most dangerous place in Runeterra. Talon flipped through the thick journal to the first entry.
It's been a few years since my twin brother passed. Maybe I would feel a bit more closure if I went to go visit the scene of the accident. Flip. I was very surprised to find this rare eagle in the exact same spot where Caleb… had his accident. I'm going to nurse this animal back to health. He's a brave bird—I decided to start calling him Valor. Flip. Valor and I got our very first mission from the king himself. We have to get information on this Noxian fugitive—it's going to be a tough mission, but Valor and I are ready. Flip. I can't believe I got caught by him… but what I don't understand more is why he didn't kill me. Why did he let me live? I don't think I was ready for this. Flip. I couldn't sleep—every time I close my eyes I see him. I see the way his eyes looked at me and I can even still feel the cold blade on my neck. It was definitely the first time I actually felt real fear.
Talon sighed as he read the word fear over and over again in his head—after a while he began to hear it in Quinn's voice. He flipped to the last entry of the journal and was somewhat surprised at what he found. His surprise was replaced with snort as he gazed upon the surprisingly flattering portrait of him—the way he looked on the folded wanted poster made him look so… evil. Talon noticed that there was tiny scribbling on the bottom of the drawing. Maybe I don't fear him… maybe I just think he is kind of… handsome. Talon rubbed the bridge of his nose as he placed the journal back on the desk. The word handsome rang in his head like an annoying bell. The Noxian did a lot of prying when he was tracking a target, but this little piece of information would most likely go down as one of the most absurd. He ignored his inflamed cheeks while he placed the book softly back on the small desk.
The assassin took a few steps closer to the sound asleep scout. He watched as she slowly breathed in and out, occasionally she let out a little snore. Talon let his hand over her cheek—Talon, what are you doing… For what felt like an eternity, he finally brushed his thumb over her fair cheeks softly—she didn't even fuss under him but instead she looked almost at peace as if she was being touched by her guardian angel. Quickly yanking his hand away in surprise, Talon glared down at her perfect pink lips curve ever so delicately into a smile.
Talon wasn't used to this; he had killed many men in their sleep and they all had the same numb look when he held a blade to them. His prey also usually shot up from their sleep and their eyes would stare at him like he was the grim reaper himself. But there she stayed fast asleep with one of Noxus' most dangerous assassins looming over her.
The assassin felt like he was personally wronged by the sweet smile, how she dare at his cold touch. He sneered down at her and felt his hand tense around the handle of his arm blade. Talon swiftly raised his razor's edge to her smooth throat and pressed slowly. His eyes shot up to her face and expected to see her wide awake and her gold eyes looking back at him full of fear—but she didn't. Talon gritted his teeth at her beautiful face taunting him by not even acknowledging his deathly presence.
Are you really still sleeping?! Last night I had you pissing your pants with the slightest touch! Talon scowled at the woman. Suddenly, he grinned at the thought that crossed his mind. That's right… you can't beat me. I can just pull this blade across your throat and I shall be the victor once more! The assassin chuckled to himself triumphantly, but it faded as he found his arm not obeying him. The room was just filled with her breathe as Talon had stopped his own—he had been defeated.
Talon lowered his blade from the snoring scout and he brushed a stray hair behind her ear. Finally, the woman's face showed signs of agitation, but Talon didn't care now. He already admitted defeat. The assassin lowered his lips to her ear, unknowing taking in her scent of wild berries and pine needles. He let his nose graze across her own as he pulled himself back before he did something crazy.
"There is a web of trouble weaving itself in Noxus. I have to get you out of here before you get caught." Talon whispered while he pulled the thin sheet over the scout's shoulder. The assassin swiftly got to the windowsill and threw his leg over the side—it was a perfect time to wander the streets with the moon blocked by the thick clouds in the sky. He fought himself when he tried to glance back at the slumbering woman. That same damn smile was still on her face. He sighed when he found himself with a smile, "Handsome, huh?"
Headcannons: Quinn writes all her thoughts in her journal. All of them. Talon hates the way his wanted posters portray him—he doesn't consider himself a bad guy, he just does bad things. Valor likes to tease Quinn, like a brother would. Quinn and Talon both do not know how to react to feelings for the opposite gender :)
Update: Thank you again Jacob. For older readers re-reading this chapter, you may have noticed something added ;p
