Abandoned Laboratory

Zaun

Sometimes the helmet still felt heavy on Kassadin's shoulders. He stood, alone, in a small metal room, two windows giving him vision of the celebrations outside. Hextech fireworks exploded above celebrating citizens parading through the streets, many of them clearly under the effects of some ingested street potions. Zaun had survived the Void invasion, thanks to the sudden arrival of reinforcements from Bandle City. The battle was not without cost, however. Kassadin had seen many wars, and this would be no different. When the high of the victory and the rush of the stimulants was gone, the citizens of Zaun would see that their city was partially in ruins, and many of their soldiers had died, either at the claws of Voidlings or the dark magic of the cultists. Or perhaps there was just something about Zaun that made him bitter. Kassadin thought back to days of playful exploring with her, reading fairy tales to her, and being nursed back to health after his near fatal encounter with the Void, by her. He thought back to his daughter, and how her life had ended in this city, because of a madman with magical powers and a knife. The room suddenly felt too small, and he stepped outside into the main hallway. As he walked, metal suit clanging against the metal floor, he thought he heard the sound of footsteps, but upon looking, saw nothing but an empty corridor leading to a set of stairs.

Descending, he ran into a familiar face. Quinn was standing in the stairwell, and gave him an affirmative nod as she stroked Valor's back. "You came." she said, her eyes lingering on the breathing tubes that kept Kassadin alive.

"I did. The Preservers are still performing reconnaissance duty, looking for a way into the Institute...Malzahar's new personal palace. One of them tipped me off that his fiends were headed this way."

"Xin Zhao tells me you saved his life? That's quite a feat."

Kassadin thought for a moment, then gave a cautious nod. "I suppose I did. I am not seeking glory, Miss Quinn. I simply wish to keep the Void from enveloping our world. Do not waste your medals on me." With that, Kassadin continued down the stairs.

Puzzled, Quinn turned and whispered to her eagle. "Geez. All that metal, and some of it definitely ended up stuck up his butt."

The bird squawked in agreement.

Kassadin found himself in the main hall, still full of civilians being slowly funneled out by Zaunite police. They marched among the people like robots (some of them may have been robots, knowing Viktor), matching families and loved ones before sending them on their way. In the back of the room was a pair of Yordles. Kassadin walked over and greeted them.

"Teemo, Tristana. Thank you for your assistance on the field."

The gunner grinned and nodded. "Not a problem, metal man. We've got your back when it counts."

Teemo smiled and quickly added: "Scout's Code #23: Never let a buddy get chomped by a yipsnake! Unless, Scout's Code #192 is in play, "Never let a yipsnake go hungry, they get mean!" There are lots of these about yipsnakes!"

There were a few seconds of awkward silence.

"You'll have to excuse him." Tristana muttered, motioning to her ally. "The Captain here had a little of that Zaunite Chem-Ale. Short stature, not much tolerance."

A voice rang out from the speakers. Kassadin could recognize it as that of Viktor. "All former Champions of the League, please report to the center staging room for an urgent strategy meeting. Tardiness is unacceptable."

"Guess we have a party to attend." Tristana offered Teemo a shoulder to lean on. "Guess Poppy and I are gonna have to do most of the talking for the Bandle City crew."

Roughly 10 minutes later, the central room of the lab was packed. In the middle was Heimerdinger and Viktor's digital map of Valoran. Two large regions were lit in blue, the Freljord and Piltover. The cyborg inventor stood next to it, his mechanical arm twitching as it swiveled about the room. An impromptu seating area had been created in the hours following the Battle of Zaun. In the east sat the Demacians, Garen and Lux at the front of the benches, with Riven, Xin Zhao, and Quinn behind them. Galio hovered above them all, his wings flapping quietly in the stale air. In the west, Freljord and Piltover, the refugees, Queen Ashe and King Tryndamere, Udyr, Heimerdinger, Janna, Jayce, and Corki. The southern side of the room housed Tristana, Teemo, and Poppy, the Bandle City backup crew. Rumble had stayed behind to guard the homefront, and because the idea of palling around with this many humans made his fur stand on end. Kassadin made his way to the northern edges, where Zac was idly trying to carry on a conversation with Dr. Mundo. Twitch appeared to be absent, but as any champion knew, that didn't mean much. Offering a casual nod to the pair of Zaunite champions, Kassadin took his seat.

"It appears we are all here." Viktor stated, his robotic voice echoing off the metal walls. With a swish of his arm, he beckoned towards the western side of the chamber. "Professor Heimerdinger, will you assist me with this?"

"Indeed." Heimerdinger muttered, hopping down from the bench and waddling towards the center of the room. The diminutive scientist turned a few knobs on the map, and it projected itself in the air, hovering and displaying the image of Valoran to all who had gathered.

Viktor began to speak. "I am not here to appeal to your emotions, to encourage you, or to tell you that we have won the war here today. Our cities have been ransacked. Our allies have died. Zaun only stands because of the unification of all of those present here today. Through numbers and superior intellect-"

"And strength!" Tryndamere bellowed, raising a cheer from a few of the other champions. Ashe had a slight grin on her face.

"Do not forget courage!" Garen returned, leading to even more cheers. Viktor shot both of the interrupting parties a glare.

"And...that, if it seems to improve your morale...but the matter still stands. The Alliance rules some of nations. Noxian war machines trample the ruins of Piltover. The undead crawl across the frozen plains of the Freljord. Make no mistake, this was but a small victory. But we now have the momentum. I propose a strike on one of these conquered territories, as soon as possible, so that we can make use of the Alliance's temporary unbalance. It is unlikely we will have this opportunity again soon."

There was a terse silence spreading over the room as the champions realized their dilemna. Two nations invaded by the Alliance, suffering the atrocities of their schemes. They had to make a choice.

"It is clear that we should attack Piltover." Viktor continued. "The undead are insatiable. It is likely that any remaining Freljordians have already been devoured or converted to corpse soldiers. Their remnants are worthless to us."

With a growl, Tryndamere leapt to his feet. "So we just leave our people to die, Viktor?"

"It is mathematically sensible-"

"How? You just think you can measure how much my subjects, my friends, are worth with numbers and odds?"

The mechanical arm on the cyborg's back began to aggressively twitch. "Getting angry does nothing to help your "people", Barbarian."

"Ha!" Tryndamere's eyes flashed red. "You haven't seen me angry yet, tin man."

"There are people alive in the Freljord. Udyr heard the spirits speaking before we returned." Ashe spoke up, shooting her husband a wary look. "I mean no disrespect to our allies in Piltover, but...both of our nations are in need of aid."

"I am not a fool, Queen Ashe." Tapping the map with his metallic hand, Viktor gave the Frost Archer an icy glare of his own from beneath his mask. "I am simply operating in the interest of optimum efficiency."

"Hold on." Jayce interrupted, leading to an involuntary angry twitch from Viktor, "Why not go for both? We've got a huge collection of Champions of the League here, the Zaun military, whatever the Piltovian and Freljordian resistances have cooked up…"

"An interesting tactic, Jayce…" Heimerdinger mumbled, tapping his wrench lightly against the bench. "But we would risk dividing our forces and having each side encounter a more powerful defense...it would be a gamble, and I am not the betting sort!"

As the door swished open, a sharp playing card embedded itself in the back wall. Valor ruflfled his feathers and squacked loudly.

"Well, then I reckon it's a good thing you've got me to stack the deck."

Looking smug, stylish, and determined, Twisted Fate entered the planning chamber, his hat tilted forward just enough that only the slightest hint of his eyes could be seen underneath. Upon closer inspection, his usually immaculate boots were caked in purple blood, the type that spewed out of Voidlings.

"Fate." Jayce said, glancing at the new arrival. "I didn't know you were still in town. How long did you wait out there for that entrance."

"About 10 damned minutes…" sounded a gruff voice from the hallway. "Idiot still hasn't learned his fancy struttin' is gonna get him killed some day, preferably by me."

"You have Graves with you?" Quinn asked, her eyes widening. "And neither of you have killed eachother yet?"

Twisted Fate offered a cocky grin. "What can I say? Common goals, fate of the world and all that...call it a temporary truce. And he ain't the only one I brought." The gambler made a motion with his arm towards the hallway and cocked his head towards Ashe. "Should probably draw now just in case…"

There was a silent wait as the doors creaked further open, Graves walking backwards through them, his shotgun facing the hall as he slowly spoke. "That's it, keep movin', I still got bullets in here, and what these folks oughta pay me for your hides is enough to keep Destiny loaded for a lifetime." Following him, hands up, were a pair of Noxians, one with striking crimson hair and a scar, the other a thin man with long dark hair, scowling angrily at Graves.

"Well." Talon muttered as he looked around the room. "Looks like the gang's all here."

There was a sudden outpouring of shouts and angry exclamations, as several of the champions began to argue.

"Fate, why didn't you kill them?"

"They aren't savages, this could be useful!"

"Damn "useful", it's their fault our city-state is in ruins!"

A sudden guttural roar broke through the rest of the voices, and they ceased speaking in shock. Udyr was coursing with primal fury, his eyes glowing blue with the strength of the wild bear. After a few seconds it dimmed, and he sat down again.

"Now then...what exactly is going on here?" called the Animal Spirit, the rage fading from his body.

"Well, y'all see.." Twisted Fate started, only to be cut off by Katarina.

"We were hiding out in a warehouse on the edges of town. We knew there would likely be an invasion soon, but had no idea when. When the Void attacked, we did our part and protected the local townsfolk." An annoyed frown crossed Katarina's face as she continued. "Our thanks was to be clubbed over the heads with some kind of metal instrument by an ungrateful bartender, and when we woke up, these two were talking about selling our heads to you all." She jerked her neck towards Twisted Fate, who gave a sheepish grin.

"Well, I'd reckon that's about it...Malcolm and I decided to go out for a drink after all that Void stompin', and we found two unconscious Noxian war criminals. Funny how that works."

Graves reached under his poncho and tossed a purple cloak to the ground in front of the Demacian bench. It clanked and rattled, the knives lining it glinting in the artificial glow. "Took this off Talon before he could cut us up. Dunno where her daggers are, but I'd guess not here, 'else she'd probably have tossed 'em by now."

Garen picked up the cloak and examined it, looking up to face the Noxians. "Why did you come here? Why combat the Void? You are allies, are you not?"

Katarina clenched her fists, which were still in the air as she eyed Ashe's bow out of the corner of her vision. "Not in the slightest. This was all Swain's psychotic scheme...he's doing some dangerous things in Noxus, he's got Vladimir sucking souls into weapons and robots, he tried to kill me and Talon, and he killed my father!"

Talon stayed silent and stoic, but nodded.

Viktor scoffed. "You cannot honestly expect us to believe this. Allow me to propose a much more likely theory. Swain dispatched you to the city as his advance spies, when Malzahar arrived, you met up with him and allowed yourselves to be knocked unconscious, or perhaps that was simply a mistake, and now you approach us with this ridiculous tale, expecting us to take you in as allies, until you stab us all in the back. Emotion does not work on me, Noxians. You have miscalculated by crossing Viktor."

With an angry glare, Katarina swerved to face the Machine Herald. "That's all lies! We were going to contact you anyway, just..not all at once. We needed to know who could be relied on not to try and gun us down on sight. I want to help you. I want to stop Swain."

"I'm with Viktor on this one." Tryndamere shouted. "Who ever knew a Noxian who would betray their country and give a damn about anybody else-". Riven shot him a glare. "without gettin' kicked out years ago?"

"This is not Noxus." Talon quipped. "This is Swain's madness. I have no allegiance to the tyrant who killed my master and ruined my home."

There was an uncharacteristic interruption from Xin Zhao. "General DuCouteau...he is dead, then?"

The red haired assassin gave a grave nod. "I found his corpse in the same prison Swain had Talon and I locked in for a week. I am going to make him pay for his crimes, and you wish to do the same." She gave Garen a cold eyed look. "The Might of Demacia can vouch for us."

All eyes were on Garen now. The bulky knight did not seem surprised at the statement, as though he had expected this to be brought up. "You and Talon were...valuable allies, back during the skirmishes in Kalamanda. We allowed you into the chambers of the King himself, and you were nothing but cooperative." He turned to face the center of the room and nodded. "I believe them."

"Garen!" Quinn folded her arms. "Well, the fearless leader there might trust you, but I don't."

"Careful, QuinnI." Jayce said, tilting his head towards Viktor. "Turns out we can find allies in strange places."

A cloud of choking green smoke filled the Freljordian corner of the room, sending Tryndamere into a coughing fit. "Damn, Noxian tricks!"

"Not quite, meathead! Ahahahahaha!" The piercing squeaks from the center of the cloud of fumes clearly belonged to only one rather rodentlike champion. Twitch had made his entrance. "So, you want proof? It'll cost ya! Just a bit!"

He got an answer in the form of an arrowhead pointed at his back and a greatsword held to his head. The Freljordian royal couple exchanged grins as Twitch gulped.

"Ack! Fine, fine, I'll do this one pro-bono!"

Reaching into his pockets, he hunted with his paws through years worth of grime and junk, finally coming up with two daggers, sliding them across the floor to Twisted Fate. The gambler held up the weapons and examined them before turning to Katarina. "I reckon you'll be wanting these back, but I'd clean 'em first." He held the dirty blades in the light so the whole room could see them. They were caked in violet blood. Voidling blood.

Ashe lowered her bow. "It seems they were telling the truth. You have been defending the city, haven't you?"

Katarina quickly snatched her weapons from the gambler's hands and began to fold them back into their sheaths, looking slightly annoyed. "It took you this long to bring me these, rat?"

"I suspect it was simply a ploy to wait until our interest in your honesty was highest, giving him the most probable chance to turn a profit." muttered Viktor, glancing in the direction of the Freljord seats. The Plague Rat had already disappeared again.

"Bah!" Folding his arms, Tryndamere leveled a cautious stare at Talon. "I still don't trust 'em. But it's a lotta work for a hoax, and if they're willing to fight for the Freljord...I can't turn them down."

"About the same here." Jayce replied, nodding at the Noxians. "We'd be better off with you on our side. That goes for you too, Graves, Fate. What do you say? I'll ensure there's a little Piltover treasury bounty in it for you."

Letting out a chuckle under his breath, Twisted Fate nodded. Graves shrugged and followed suit. "Well, why the hell not. The world ends before I can properly kick this yellowbellied varmint's ass, it'll be way too soon."

With a few raps of his mechanical hand against the table, Viktor restored the room to order. "Now then. Before we were...interrupted by these theatrics, I believe the proposal was a joint attack on both Piltover and the Freljord. Although I still find the thought to be foolish, perhaps we can calculate a victorious strategy."

Over the next few hours, many of the brightest minds and strongest fighters from all across Runeterra plotted. Piltover, the City of Progress, inhabited by the Noxian forces, would be the primary target, with the bulk of the Zaunite and Bandle City militaries advancing on it, the Zephyr providing air support. The Freljord was a trickier subject, as the Shadow Isles were nearly unstoppable in a battle of numbers, due to their necromantic prowess, so a careful team of specialists was selected who would be skilled at cutting their way through the hordes of undead to reach their leaders, reducing them to little more than corpses. Two men were selected as advance scouts to each city state thanks to their mobility prowess as well, Twisted Fate would teleport into Piltover, and Kassadin would use his Riftwalks to bypass the mountains barring access to Freljord.

As the victory celebrations outside the laboratory died down, one began inside. The Champions drank and celebrated their survival, knowing that the war was far from complete. Not everyone was in agreement, however.

Riven stood at the window of the foyer, gazing out on the city she had nearly given her life to protect, and the same one that had killed her squad. Taking a sip of Zaunite liquor, she looked down at her sword, humming with energy, and couldn't help but remember what she had claimed earlier. A Crownguard. A Demacian. Was this a battle cry in the heat of the moment, meant to intimidate Malzahar and rally Quinn and Xin Zhao? Or was it the truth? Had she fallen into the arms of the enemy, and was she enjoying it?

"Exile."

Katarina approached, a small shot glass filled with a neon blue liquid clenched in her hand.

Already suspecting what she had to say, Riven looked away. "Is there something you need from me?"

The assassin sneered. "No. I just wanted to see what I almost was. Make no mistake, I have not given up on Noxus. Swain is a madman, but our city will recover when his blood is spilled." She swallowed the drink in a swift motion and looked directly into Riven's eyes. "I didn't offer to become a pet for some Demacian noble."

Riven stayed silent, trying to continue drinking in peace.

"Do you think they really consider you an ally? When this is done, you'll be nothing more than a trophy at best, and a scandal at worst. You'll find yourself right back at the bottom, and all that "honor" and "justice" you're cloaking yourself in will be as empty as your convictions to your homeland."

Although Katarina's words effected her, Riven was determined not to show it, and supressing the urge to draw her weapon on the . "Leave me."

"I'm not finished." Katarina extended a hand to Riven, looking up at her with a mix of disgust and expectation. "I never said you were not a skilled fighter. Fortunately, that is what we need. And for that, I welcome your temporary assistance."

Tentatively reaching her arm out, Riven clasped hands with Katarina and nodded.

"We are not friends. But we are allies."

With those parting words, Katarina departed, and Riven remembered something she had said days ago. If she was to be a Crownguard, she had an apology to make. But as the buzz of the strong drinks kicked in and her senses began to dull, a single coherent thought drifted to the surface.

It could wait until tomorrow.