Alrighty y'all, you know the drill! We are once again back with a new chapter, and I'm feeling like I'm on a roll here! From what reviews are saying, it would appear that I've been popping off with my writing since chapter 44, which is really pleasing to hear. It's awesome that you're all taking these Zaun chapters so well, because I've honestly been unsure about how they'd be received. I dunno, I feel like I'm trying my best, but I could be doing better. What on Earth would I do without fans like you? So as always, thank you. Now, let's address what's gonna be happening, shall we? This time around, Warwick and Helios are starting their rather unorthodox partnership, and will be investigating the major ruckus going on in the city. Some of you might have an inkling of who it is, but I'd rather that you find out for yourself. Now, shall we?


Riding on the back of a pseudo-werewolf while he bounds across the rooftops of Zaun is one hell of an experience.

It's not fun, exactly, not when there's a giant chemtech chamber in the way. I could've sworn that I'd gotten stretch marks just from having to contort my body into such an awkward position for so long. Then there was the fact that each time Warwick landed, it hurt. If the theoretical stretch marks weren't annoying enough, the bruises certainly were. Over all, we were just a really odd sight to see. Still, even though it was a pain in the ass for the both of us, Warwick had still offered, as it was faster than me trying to keep up with him.

And gods, could he move. The one upside to riding on his back was how exhilarating it was. He was insanely fast, and when he put his mind to getting somewhere he was unstoppable. He straight up mowed through anything that was in his way, briefly becoming a flurry of claws and fangs to remove obstacles. I felt my stomach drop whenever he made a particularly large leap, soaring over the streets below.

Despite our mutual irritation, and the admittedly intimidating pace at which we were moving, I felt surprisingly calm. I held no animosity whatsoever towards Warwick, and I found that our similar circumstances led to a common understanding of each other. If we were going to go on a killing spree together, I found that the idea agreed with me. It was still weird, considering that he had the face of my old nemesis, but overall I could ignore it. Warwick had given me enough reason to trust him, so I was going to focus on what we were trying to accomplish.

Speaking of streets...

As we got further and further into the city, we both couldn't help but notice that things looked like they were going to hell. Even more so than usual, and in Zaun, that was saying something. Debris and rubble were haphazardly strewn about everywhere, and several buildings had gigantic holes in them. That definitely wasn't normal. The path of the destruction got bigger and more evident as we went further in, with lots of people running in the opposite direction. Yowza. The hell had been going on while I was away?

And then there were the giant gas clouds that coated the streets once we got to a certain point. The Grey could be lethal if it was thick enough, and we were ultimately forced to climb higher just to observe the carnage. A few stray Piltovans looking out their balconies promptly shrieked in response to Warwick chaining bounces off their railings, but eh - who cares? It was fun to watch them freak out, anyways.

And then we got to the source of the commotion, where the Grey was thickest. It was blotting out the sun, to the point where it was almost as dark as it was during the night. Green gas clouds swamped the leveled square, hiding in the wreckage of markets and shops.

But the weirdest thing?

It was quiet.

Deathly quiet.

There was absolutely no sound at all, not even the faint screech of Zaun's critters (they don't have names - they're mutated to the point where nobody can tell what they're supposed to be). It was a ghost town, which had never happened before. Not in this city.

Despite Warwick's speed, we'd gotten there too late. Whoever had started this had already finished, and they'd been brutal with their execution. As Warwick and I dropped down into the remains of the square's main courtyard, the corpses that littered it came into view. Not a single one was whole, and appeared to have been blown apart at the seams. However, they hadn't been as thoroughly erased as Warwick's kills, and they were still identifiable.

"Gang runners." I said, as I slid down from the werewolf's back. "Lots of them."

"They worked for the Chem-Barons." Warwick noted. "They smell a little less like filth than most."

That in itself was no big loss. Nobody would miss them, after all. But, once again, like Warwick, something about the way they'd been killed unnerved me. It wasn't the intent behind them - I recognized hate when I saw it. It was more the way they'd been killed in itself. I crouched down to observe the body of one gangster in particular, noting where he'd apparently exploded from the inside out. He hadn't been torn apart by anything sharp, like Warwick's fangs. It actually looked like his body had burst, due to some form of high-caliber weaponry. The spread of the shot had ripped him in half, leaving his legs a few meters further down the pavement.

"Helios. Look there." Warwick gestured off to the side, and I followed his gaze to a few dozen more bodies. "What about them?" I asked, but even before the words had left my mouth, I'd figured out what was wrong.

The bodies nearest the thugs were dressed far too nicely to be in with their crowd. Crips blue overcoats, the remains of Hextech firearms...oh gods. Those were Piltovan officers, and they looked like they hadn't fared any better than the gangsters.

"What the fff..." I trailed off, before cautiously walking over to the new pile of corpses. "The hell are Pilties doing in a place like this?" Zaun is filled to the brim with all manner of illegal acts. Piltovan police, while highly effective, are simply unable to cope with the sheer amount of crime that Zaun experiences. On its worst days, hell no. Forget it. As such, it was extremely rare for Pilties to come down and take matters into their own hands - it was a measure reserved for only the most extreme cases, i.e. Jinx. But I could already tell that this wasn't her style. A lot more buildings would be on fire otherwise.

"It's not Jinx." I voiced my thoughts out loud. "She messes with Piltover's police department a lot, but she's never actually killed any of them." I took a wary glance back at Warwick. "Unless, she's different here...?"

He shook his head. "She's nothing more than an annoyance. I don't even bother with chasing after her." Well, reasonable enough. I wouldn't either. It'd give me too much of a migraine.

"Good." I said, resuming my attention back to our problem. "She's...a friend, back where I come from." Warwick looked mildly confused, but didn't press me on it.

"That's odd." I frowned, briefly dipping a gloved finger into his blood. "He's been killed in the same way as the gangster. These officers were using Hextech, and the thugs were using chemtech firearms, so why do their wounds look the same?"

"It couldn't have been a confrontation between the two, then." Warwick affirmed. "I only smell smell acid on a minority of the officers slain."

"Hm..." I stepped over the victims to take a glance into the ruins of a nearby shop. What'd it been selling, I couldn't say, but it didn't matter anyways. I traced my fingers along the edges of the massive hole blown in the wall, rubbing the ash together on my fingertips as I pulled it away. I didn't want to get too close - the interior was packed with some sort of noxious gas. "There's a lot of gas in here, but it doesn't look like it was what blew this wall open - no chemicals on the edges."

"There are civilians mixed in with the bodies." Warwick said, gesturing to the courtyard's outer edges. I came over to where he was looking, getting down on one knee to observe the latest piece of evidence. "Looks like a few shopkeepers got unlucky." I said, squinting as I leaned closer to the victim's neck. "A few of his veins are black, and there's swelling in some areas. It looks like he died by inhaling whatever gas was fired into those other buildings."

"Any more bodies, or is that all we need to know?" I asked. I was angry that innocents had lost their lives, but at the same time, it wasn't my problem - I'd be leaving soon anyways. ...Ooh. I needed to get back to Viktor on that once I'd wrapped this up.

"One more." Warwick said, pointing to the center of the courtyard once again. "Or what's left of it."

I could see what he meant even before I'd gotten there. "What the hell did this guy get thrown into?" I asked, scrunching up my face with disgust. "A meat grinder?" Just by looking at the remains, I could see that the body had been flattened, pressed, and then shredded into thousands of tiny bits. The bones were paste, the skin pressed flat and barely hanging together, almost like a torn sheet of paper. And the...other things...well, it wasn't pretty. It was more of a puddle of blood than it was anything else, really.

"Well, I don't think we need any more evidence to know that a third party interrupted this little throwdown." I said, placing my hands on my hips as I stood. "Whoever - or whatever - it was, it hit like a wrecking ball. These poor idiots didn't know what hit them."

Plr-rr-rrrrk.

A rustle of debris.

The two of us instantly got into a combat-ready position, facing the direction of the sudden noise.

It was coming from the rubble of another shop, which was missing a roof and back wall. The rock had fallen from behind the gas cloud that enveloped the hole, which wasn't ominous at all.

And then, from out of the darkness, stumbled Janna, falling to her knees. Her clothing was worn and shredded in some areas (don't even think about getting any ideas), and she was covered in bruises, accompanied by a multitude of gashes and scratches. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and she was cradling a broken arm. Her staff clumsily floated next to her, barely able to keep itself afloat.

She wasn't even able to speak, a look of utter desolation and despair her only way of communicating.

"Janna!" I shouted, running in a full sprint towards her. No. Not again. She was not going to suffer again. I knew better this time. She wasn't dying on my watch. Warwick dropped to all fours to join me, and the two of us raced to get her out of harm's way.

We stopped just before reaching her, realizing that the three of us weren't the only ones present. A massive shadow loomed in the gas behind the wind spirit, shrouding her in darkness. A faint green glow emanated from its lower half, highlighting six mechanical appendages that were each half a meter thick.

Then, a gigantic hand, unusually pale in tone, reached out from the shadows and clamped itself around her neck. It lifted her up, then threw her at us, sending her tumbling across the cobblestone. I immediately rushed to her side, checking her wounds as Warwick stood guard, baring his fangs. I let out a sigh of relief upon seeing that her injuries weren't fatal. She would need a lot of rest, but she'd survive.

"She was unworthy." A voice rasped from within the gas. "But you...you are different. You have suffered. You are strong."

I scowled up at him, cradling Janna's limp body in my arms. "And who, exactly, are you to deem her unworthy?"

He gave no reply.

Instead, he stepped forward.

Plank.

Plank.

Plank.

Plank.

Plank.

Plank.

I watched, slowly becoming more and more awestruck, as a gigantic mechanical leg teeming with chemtech placed itself on the ground as he came into the dim light. Then another...and another...and another...until there were six legs total.

The juggernaut's face revealed itself at last, and my eyes widened.

He looked different, and sounded different, but I'd recognize that fat tub of lard and his legs anywhere.

"Urgot."


He'd been lifting.

Despite the fact that I felt nothing but rage at seeing him again, feeling the bubbly black hate rear its head in my heart, it would seem that my wry sense of humor could never leave me, no matter the situation. I could've been coming up with plans of attack or escape, and instead my first thought was "he'd been lifting." Real mature, Me.

To be fair, though, he did look like he'd been pumping iron. Urgot's physique, or at least his upper body, was in way better shape than it'd been on my world. The old Urgot, while augmented with chemtech that possessed Noxian designs, was bulky and fat, with skin that had to be stitched together in some areas. One of his eyes had to be replaced, not to mention that he'd been dead at one point. But this Urgot? He was still fat, but just from looking at him, I could tell that it hadn't been because of poor health - Urgot had grown fat from strength. He no longer had a potbelly, and his biceps were thick with muscle. His skin was still unusually pale, but it was living flesh - no stitches, no faint glow of chemtech, nothing. Urgot had apparently never died on this world. He had both of his eyes, too.

And then there were his augmentations. Old Urgot was more of a pet project than anything else - his augmentations did a little bit of everything, but nothing special overall. It was like the Zaunites who'd experimented on him couldn't decide what he'd be good for. New Urgot, on the other hand, had been built for war. Instead of two augmented limbs that fired projectile blades and chemical blasts respectively, Urgot had kept his left arm wholly intact, choosing to attach a gigantic cannon onto his right. It took up the entire arm, leaving no trace of flesh or bone behind.

His voice had changed, too. Urgot used to talk like a robot. "Target acquired," "objective complete," you name the cliché and he'd said it at least once. Now, Urgot talked relatively human, and was spouting off crap about worthiness and pain. It sounded oddly familiar, but the closest thing I could think of was Illaoi, who wasn't close at all.

(AN: *Cough cough*Bane*cough cough*)

Last but definitely not least, we had the legs. My gods, the legs were ridiculous. Urgot now had six legs instead of four, as I mentioned earlier, and each one made the older models look like toothpicks. They were flat on the ends instead of pointed, and noticeably, each one had some sort of opening at the knees that was brimming with chemtech. What was up with that?

And now here he was, sneering (I think - his face mask covered his mouth) down at Janna's unconscious form. "Pathetic." He spat, without the spittle. "And this is the standard for a goddess? This is why I don't invest in religion." He looked up to stare at me. "Deities are always disappointing when you meet them in person."

I felt his statement strike a chord, momentarily freezing up. Did he know- no. He couldn't have. Urgot didn't even appear to be aware of the effect he had on me. I steadied my furiously pumping heart, letting out a discreet sigh of relief.

"They prayed to her." Urgot gestured to the other bodies. "They dropped to their knees mid-battle and begged for her to save them. So she came. She saw what I'd done. But she, like them, was a waste of my time."

"And yet she's still alive." I replied, fixing him with a cold, angry glare.

"Her skin was unblemished, before she challenged me." Urgot remarked, as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation. "There wasn't a single mark on her body, unlike the poor, lost sheep that she claims to care for." He gestured to her as she lay still in my embrace. "I fixed that. I broke her because she was weak."

"But you..." He chuckled. "Yes, you both know pain. I see it in your eyes. You were made strong, and reborn in hate, you most of all, Howler." He flicked his head at Warwick, who raised his hackles and snarled at the direct mention. "What torment was inflicted to turn you into such a beast? What agony it must have been."

"LET ME SHOW YOU FIRSTHAND WHAT I FELT!" Warwick roared - he'd finally had enough. He bounded forward on all fours, then leaped, soaring through the air with his claws extended.

But Urgot wasn't shackled by his augmentations like he'd been on my Runeterra. They only made him stronger. And faster.

Even before Warwick had jumped, Urgot was trailing his movements with his cannon, and once Warwick was airborne, fired a glowing green canister at his chest. It exploded midair, and while the werewolf twisted so that it only grazed his shoulder, it still impacted, filling his lungs with only a fraction of the gas that enveloped the wreckage around us. Warwick lost his momentum and fell, collapsing in a heap at Urgot's feet. His sense of smell was a hundred times stronger than a regular human's, and his pain was indicated by the chemical tears that rolled down his face.

"A concentrated form of the Grey." Urgot informed. "It has many uses, but bringing a beast to heel is one of my favorites."

Then, Urgot sprung forward, pushing with all six of his legs. The force with which he lunged was so great that he left a crater where he'd been standing earlier. As he flew, he grabbed Warwick by the neck, dragging him with him. I desperately leapt to the side with Janna in my arms, just barely missing Urgot's trajectory. He slammed Warwick into the pavement, then threw him overhead, swiveling his body around to face him as he tumbled to a stop. Interesting. Instead of his legs moving to change the direction he faced, his torso moved while his legs remained stationary.

Warwick was on his feet in an instant, howling with rage. Urgot blinked, momentarily looking down at his chest.

"Interesting." He said. "A twinge of fear." His gaze hardened, eyes narrowing. "I won't let fear get in my way."

He aimed his cannon, then started firing. Each shot had the force of a railgun, the shockwaves generated visible as they burst from the barrel. Warwick dashed around each round with inhuman speed (no shit, right?), zigzagging towards the Noxian headsman as he did so. He was almost within reach.

Urgot sensed the imminent danger, lowering his cannon to one of his legs as Warwick came within a range too close for his cannon to be effective. Why was he-

He plugged his cannon into a socket on his leg, then fired.

I then discovered the significance of his knees.

His knees were shotguns.

A widespread blast exploded from the joint, fizzling out at a certain range but packing a punch at close-quarters. This, then, was what had blown a hole in so many buildings. Graves was going to be so jealous, assuming I lived to tell him the story.

The blast ended up missing, as Warwick sprung high into the air just a millisecond beforehand. It clipped the end of his tail, but he didn't seem to mind, focusing on his prey. He landed directly on Urgot's shoulders, thrusting his head down to bury his jaws into Urgot's left shoulder blade, just before the neck. Urgot grunted with pain, but surprisingly didn't cry out, thrashing wildly and bucking his legs as Warwick held on. He finally discarded the notion of using his hand, clubbing Warwick on the head with his cannon.

Warwick, disoriented, fell backwards, extracting his fangs. It left a sizable wound, but Urgot didn't seem particularly bothered by it, as if the pain meant nothing. Did he even feel pain?

"That hurt." Urgot remarked. But he didn't sound angry. He actually sounded pleased with his injury. "Good. You might make a fair trial after all."

Warwick groaned as he recovered, but instantly went rigid after Urgot made his remark. He started shuddering, clawing at his face and making uneven, guttural growl. The chemtech chamber on his back began to flicker, turning from green to orange.

Oh, no.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" Urgot asked, slowly advancing. "The smell of blood, as it gushes forth from the corpse of your prey."

"Helios." Warwick grunted, straining. "Take her...and-...run."

I'd been standing frozen for the entire exchange, unable to recognize that helping him might have been ideal. "But-"

"RUN!" Warwick screamed, as his chamber finally turned completely orange, his eyes filled with bloodthirsty fire.

He didn't have to tell me a third time. I picked up Janna bridal-style in my arms, carefully wrapping her staff in the crook of my arm, awkward as it was. I turned around and fled, listening to Warwick give in to his hunger. I briefly glanced over my shoulder and saw Warwick lunge at the headsman, attacking with three times the fury. Urgot was still undaunted, engaging the man-turned-beast head-on.

"First Warwick, now Urgot." I muttered, as I returned my focus to getting Janna to safety. "Two crazy idiots in one day. This place is going to hell, and it's not even lunchtime."

I turned a corner, jogging down the street while cursing the loss of my divine strength. It would've been so much easier if I was able to lift houses with my pinkies again. Life just kept on throwing inconvenience after inconvenience at me at a pace I just couldn't keep up with. How on Runeterra had I dealt with it the first time?

A slight wheeze told me that Janna was awake, and barely holding on. I looked down to see her looking up at me with glazed, half-lidded eyes. I got the feeling that she couldn't even see me, she was in so much pain. "Wh-"

"Hey, hey, shh." I softly whispered, readjusting her in my arms. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. You'll live." I felt like I was trying to reassure myself more than I was trying to reassure her.

She continued to stare at me for a minute, then drifted back off into unconsciousness. I cursed, trying to pick up the pace. Why was I so damn helpless all the time? Warwick hadn't been hanging with me for little more than three hours, and he was already getting his ass kicked because I couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

After I'd been running for around twenty minutes, I finally exited the makeshift arena, momentarily pausing as I noticed the police tape blocking my way. Hextech hovercars owned by the PPD (Piltover Police Department, duh) flooded the street, with officers trying to calm the panicked civilians on the other side.

"Please, stay calm!" One officer said, holding his arms out in the typical way one did in futile attempts to calm a crowd. "We are dealing with the situation as quickly as we can! For your own safety, please refrain from coming any closer!"

The crowd, a mix of both Zaunites and Piltovans, didn't appear to be particularly convinced. The Zaunites were acting rather hostile, in fact, tossing random bits of scrap and trash as they taunted the enforcers. Even in times of crisis, Zaunites still held Piltovans with contempt. Idiots, all of them.

Then, two officers in particular caught my attention, their colorful clothing standing out amongst the sea of blue uniforms. One was wearing a crisply maintained top hat, and the other had dyed her hair hot pink.

I gulped.

Of all the people it had to be...

"C'mon, Cupcake, let me in there!" Vi complained, smacking one fist into the palm of her other gauntlet. "I'll be in and out in five minutes, I swear!"

"You know we can't." Caitlyn replied, looking worried despite her rebuttal. "Lennox and the others haven't reported back since going in. And the noise...we can't just go in blind."

"I bet it's the Howler." Vi grinned. "I've been wanting to take a shot at that thing for a long time."

"Are you daft?" Caitlyn asked. "It would kill you in an instant."

"Would not." Vi turned up her head, feigning offense. "And even if it did, I'd still try. It'd be worth it."

Oh, for the love of gods.

"HELP!" I cried, as I ran towards the line. "OVER HERE!"

They looked to the source of the plea, and upon seeing me with Janna in my arms, instantly freaked out. Eyes widening, they dropped their conversation and ducked under the tape, racing over to me as I lowered the sorceress to the ground. Caitlyn took her from my grip, cradling her as I panted. Gods, I needed to exercise more. Not that I didn't, but it clearly wasn't enough.

"She's injured." I said, nearly out of breath. "She needs help, now."

Vi tilted her head to the side, confused. "Okay, but what's up with the glowing sti-"

"Vi." Caitlyn turned to sharply glare at her. "Not now."

The Piltover Enforcer folded her arms, grumbling.

"What happened to her?" Caitlyn asked. "I've never seen wounds like these."

"No time to explain." I said. "No time to explain why I don't have time to explain, either. Just get her someplace safe!"

I turned around, but stopped as I felt Vi grab my arm. "Whoa, whoa, wait. Where are you going?" She asked.

"Back in there." I gestured back to the square with my head. "Someone there needs my help."

"Are you nuts? No." Vi shook her head. "You barely got out alive as it is."

"We just need you to answer some questions is all." Caitlyn added. "Just tell us what you saw, and then we can take it from-"

I. Did not. Have time. For this.

I was going to regret this later, but I didn't have much of a choice. I reared my other fist back and slammed it into Vi's stomach, winding her. She released her grip on my arm, and I sprinted off, ignoring the click of Caitlyn's rifle or her warnings for me to stay put. She wasn't going to fire. I knew her too well.

I ran back to Warwick's location as fast as I could, praying to the gods that I hadn't killed him just hours after meeting him. My lungs were burning, sweat streaming down my brow, but it didn't matter. I would run myself ragged if I had to.


When I returned, I found that only one of them was present, and Warwick didn't look too happy.

He was licking his wounds, clotting the blood with his saliva. His hyperactive healing factor was taking care of the rest, though it looked like it still hurt.

"Took you long enough." He grunted, finishing up on his right arm and moving to his left. "You were lucky. He would have killed you if you'd stayed."

"Where...where's-" I wheezed, plopping down on my hands and knees while I gestured for him to wait. "Where's Urgot-" I fell into yet another coughing fit, pounding my chest with one fist to get it all out.

"He left." Warwick replied.

"Where'd he go off to?" I asked, recovering.

"I don't know. I can't smell him." He said, wrinkling his snout. "My nose still isn't working as well as it should be. That gas of his burnt like fire."

"I'll bet." I said, falling back to sit on my butt. "He let you live?"

"To send a message." He replied. "He wanted me to spread the word."

"Which I doubt you will." I finished.

Warwick chuckled bitterly. "I have no one to tell, anyways."

"True." I agreed. I hummed with a frown, considering something. "Shouldn't you be crazy right now?" I asked. "Blood drives you nuts, right?"

"The smell has gone dry." He said. "And I still can't smell properly."

"Right. That." I replied. Then I noticed the awkward way he was sitting, hunching over his stomach. "What's up with the weird way you're sitting? Did he get a lucky shot off or something?"

"He stuck me with some kind of needle." Warwick said. "It went through my spine, as far as I can tell, but it's already healed."

"Must've been one hell of a needle." I remarked, slightly mortified. "What about the marks on your ribs? It looks like that wasn't the only place he got you."

He shifted, slightly uncomfortable. "The 'needle' was just the first part. The next was the meat grinder."

"...What?"

He nodded. "It was in his chest. He impaled me with chains, then tried dragging me in."

"That's not overkill at all." I replied somewhat drily (I was still reeling from the thought). "I'm guessing that you escaped?"

"I was still enraged, but I managed to bite through them." He confirmed. "Then he left."

"So much for a first hunt." I grunted, easing up to sit next to him. "We'll deal with him later, then." As much as I wanted to kill the bastard, I had to be practical about this. Neither of us were a match for him as we were already - fighting him was suicide. "We should get rid of the Chem-Barons first. Viktor might be able to help with that."

Warwick's mood took a bit of a sour turn. "I said I wasn't interested in being poked and prodded."

"I don't think there'll be any needles involved." I reassured him. "All he has to do is get a blood sample and some of the stuff that's in your back."

"And how is he going to get blood without operating on me?" Warwick asked, skeptical.

I silently gestured to his wounds. "I have a few vials on me right now. Just give me a few drops and that should be good enough for him. Plus, you spit and cry acid. I don't think it'll be hard."

Warwick sighed, then beckoned for a vial. I handed him one, and he carefully (though still a little clumsily) brought it to the wound on his chest, letting a few drops of his blood drip in. He handed it back to me once he was done, and I screwed the lid back on. "And there we go. Problem solved." I said.

"Where's the wind sorceress?" He asked.

"I gave her over to the cops." I said, leaning back on my elbows. "She should be fine after a few days."

Warwick snarled. "I wouldn't trust Piltovans to handle my droppings. What makes you think they won't ask questions?"

"Oh, they will." I said. "But, y'know, she can turn into a bird. She'll just fly away after she's done healing. Maybe she can feign unconsciousness until then, I dunno."

"You seem surprisingly casual about all this." Warwick snorted. "You don't fear for her safety?"

"Of course I do." I replied. "But, well, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with something like this." I exhaled, making a little fart noise with my mouth as I put on a poker face. "I guess I've just gotten used to crazy."

"Is that so?" Warwick offered a small, wry smile.

"Warwick, I haven't even gotten started on the kinds of crazy things I've seen and done in my lifetime." I said, chuckling. "Get me a drink, and I'll tell you all about it."

I never got that drink - we were in a courtyard filled with corpses, after all. But that didn't stop me from telling my story.

And good gods, what a story it was.


Aight, that's it for now. Sorry this is a little late - I had a brain-fart halfway through the week and ended up going back to fix it. So, here we are. We're getting close to the end of the Zaun-Piltover arc. Helios just has to help Warwick with the Chem-Barons, strike a deal, get the parts he needs to get back home, and then make a short pit-stop. You'll know what I mean by each of these in time. Until next time!

FicfansEverywhere