There was blood in the air.

The warm, red mist which had sprayed forth from cut flesh drizzled down onto the cold, cobblestone tiles of the grimy alleyway in a fine rain. It was accompanied by the choked gurgles coming forth from a dying man's slit throat and was like music to Katarina's ear. Talon knew this. He knew it all too well.

General Du Couteau's daughter was a troublesome thing. Talon had watched the red-haired woman eliminate her target. She had picked him out for herself, and it just so happened to be the rebel leader he was sent after; Katarina had gotten there before him and now his target was nothing but a corpse. Talon's jaw tightened at this thought. It shouldn't bother him. A dead man is a dead man, it doesn't really matter who killed him. But it did bother him. It was a slap to the face. Katarina's behaviour made him bristle. Her methods of assassination—if he could even can call it that—made him bristle, her utter disregard for their teachings made him bristle. Everything about her made him bristle.

He had watched from the rooftops nearby as she slew her targets, first the rebel's henchmen and then the rebel himself. Her blades had entered their bodies cleanly, spilling their guts with a wet slop, and staining the ground with their lifeblood. But Katarina had allowed herself to be cornered and circled before all of this, and to the untrained eye, one would assume that she had been caught and as good as dead. Talon knew different. He had known the outcome of this exchange before it even reared its head. He had studied her for long enough that he knew how she fought, how she moved, how she thought. He knew how she savoured the thrill of the risk, the rush of adrenaline as she drew her twin shortswords with a flurry to face the oncoming enemies.

Wasted energy. Talon's mouth pressed into a firm line. Her movements were taught to her by her father, General Du Couteau, the same man who had taught him as well. Katarina knew the art of blade play inside and out, she knew the rules and the norms… just so she could break them.

Talon had watched her twirl her blades in a flashy arc. His lips tightened. That's one. Never flaunt your skills for that wastes energy and allows your enemies to telegraph you better. Katarina had blitzed at her opponents, breaking through their front line swiftly with her voracious charge. That's two. An assassin does not strike head-on. Ever. They shouldn't even be seen unless absolutely needed.

Talon's brow knitted together. How could she be like this? They were taught by the same man and they both called him father; Katarina by birth and Talon through spilling blood for that man. This thought made Talon's anger flare up a bit once more. He was everything she wasn't. A renegade like her doesn't deserve the Du Couteau name. Those flaws will cost her one day. He calmed the icy rage in his veins. He will not allow himself to lose his temper. He must maintain control and reach the perfect state. Void of all emotion, hesitation, and weakness. Talon's thoughts had been interrupted by the choking, dying gasp of his target which Katarina so generously stole for herself. He had heard a light laugh come from her as she violently pulled her short sword from her victim's chest.

She is fire while he is ice. She is passionate while he is stoic. She is flashy while he is utilitarian. She is a disgrace, outcast, rebel while he is the prized right hand of General Du Couteau. She held no regard for the teachings and lessons of her father anymore while he cherished every bit of it, regarding it with the highest respect in his pursuit for being a perfect weapon.

Despite all this, he had never been successful in slaying her. The knife named after her, the one he would use to end her life has been hanging on his belt for a long time. Despite her insubordination along with her refusal to play by the tried and true rules—the cause of her shame and her family's denouncement in the first place—she found great success somehow. Talon couldn't comprehend this fact. Katarina had cut her bonds with her past and now plays by her own rules yet she was stronger than ever, stronger than even he was currently; there had been times where Talon not only had to retreat from his attempt to assassinate her because she took the upper hand, he can recall many times where she would laugh as she fought him. He hated her. But he admired her skill, her insatiable will to win and grow stronger, albeit with no regard to rules or teachings of any kind.

Katarina sheathed her short swords and casually strode away from the scene she just painted. Talon scoffed. That's three. An assassin never leaves a trace of their existence behind; Katarina might as well have left her signature and this was exactly what she wanted. Talon knew she was a spiteful woman underneath all that bravado and showmanship. Her failure stuck with her and her country's abandonment of her only made her wish to prove herself even more. In her own way, of course.

Talon jumped across the gap between rooftops and silently followed her through the grimy alleyways. The tavern she arrived at looked rather worn out and old, the wood was dark with age and water stains along with bits of green moss clinging to the pillars.

So this is where she's staying for the time being? Talon thought to himself as he entered the establishment. He wove around the crowd to get to the staircase Katarina headed up in order to get to the rooms above. The stairs creaked a little under his feet as he stalked up the steps. He saw an open room, the only way she could've gone and walked in, his dagger in hand.

"Where is she?" Talon asked himself in a hushed tone.

"Above you."

Talon felt a weight drop down onto him and he instinctively tilted his head to one side. Wood splinters flew up from the ground where Katarina's blade stabbed into it, missing his face by the breadth of a finger. Talon grit his teeth as he heard the door slam shut behind them. He shifted his hips and slid his weight over to one side to buck Katarina off of him before she could muster another strike. He rolled his feet launched three knives at her, aiming for all the vital areas he could target. Neck. Diaphragm. Inner thigh.

Katarina was the one who tilted her head to the side this time as the first blade whizzed by, missing her throat. She twisted her body, twirling to the side to step away from the trajectory of the final two blades. Thunk, thunk. They embedded themselves in the wall behind the red-haired fighter. Katarina flung a blade at Talon and the assassin dodged it easily, watching it fall short and land at his feet, sticking in the floorboards.

Where is she aiming? He questioned with confusion as Katarina resorted to dashing in for a melee attack. Talon flicked out the dagger he had named after her from his sleeve and stabbed at his target. Katarina ducked down and retrieved the knife she had lodged in the ground moments earlier and struck at Talon, revealing it was never her intent to hit him with the throw earlier.

Talon felt her dagger rest against his neck. He sucked in a slow, calming breath. Katarina felt his dagger pressing against her midsection. She smirked and raised her brow.

"Again?" Katarina questioned, "This is the third time you've come for my head these past months. Are you getting bored?"

Talon's expression remained unchanged as he spoke back. "I am carrying out my duties."

"Failing to carry out your duties you mean?" Katarina's smirk cracked open into a taunting yet charming smile, her scar shifting a little on her face.

"I am still given duties of utmost importance…" Talon said back, his voice as cold as the steel in his hand.

The unspoken words burned at Katarina. She felt her grip tighten against her weapon. "You have balls I'll give you that. To insult me when my blade is pressed against that pretty neck of yours is brave… or maybe you're just dumb."

"You must be a very angry woman to lash out at mere words." Talon quipped as he adjusted his grip. Was he willing to give his life to kill her? Surely, if he stabbed her gut she'll slash open his throat before she dies. Was it worth it?

Talon felt the steel against his neck lift away. He felt confusion prickle at his body as he watched Katarina tuck away her dagger, leaving herself open as she casually turned away and walked over to a nearby nightstand.

"Of course I'm angry, you interrupted my otherwise fine evening, Talon." Katarina said as she grabbed her flask from the countertop. "You like whiskey?" She took a drink directly from the flask.

Talon watched her swallow. So it's not poisoned. "I don't break bread and drink spirits with the enemy."

"Suit yourself," Katarina said as she took another swig. "It's really good. You're missing out."

Talon scowled at her nonchalant demeanour. "You should be on your guard."

"Tch, piss off with that nonsense. I'll be on guard when I feel like it." The fighter waved her hand dismissively.

"Do you not see me as a threat?" Talon asked with annoyance in his voice. He despised her looking down on him. She was the one person he couldn't best and he knew the cocky, headstrong woman looked down at him like he was still the gutter rat her father saved from a bloody execution.

"Of course I see you as a threat. You gave me this." Talon's mounting anger froze at her words as Katarina pointed to her scar. " I'm confident, not blind or stupid." Katarina crossed her arms and tilted her head. "I'm just too tired to bother. Besides, I have a lot of begrudging respect for you."

Respect? Talon wasn't expecting that at all. He lowered his dagger a little. "Really?" he questioned, his voice carrying a lot more emotion than he was used to. "By the way you spit in the face of our teachings, I wouldn't expect you to have any respect in general, much less for me, someone who comes from a background so much lowlier compared to you."

"Oh stop with that bullshit. Do you think I give a damn that you scuttled through the grimy streets covered in dirt as a kid? That's actually where the respect is coming from. The fact that you, someone who came from nothing, can get to this level and play by the regimented teachings and still be effective is admirable. Boring… but admirable." Katarina said as she walked up to him, her hands on her hips and a confident smirk on her lips.

"Hm, if only you're a bit more like me in that regard, maybe then you could've avoided this unfortunate fate." Talon commented, his tone still as cold as ever, even when he is trying to show some sympathy.

Katarina's smirk grew softer at this, maybe even slightly sorrowful. "Not even all the wishes in the world can turn back time. But even then, I don't think playing by the rules was ever my fate."

"Perhaps, but it is my fate." Talon said slowly, "I will become the best blade Noxus has ever seen. Even better than your father."

"That's a lofty goal, Talon." Katarina looked him up and down with a smile. "But I wouldn't count you out just yet. You're talented and from what I heard, very hard working too."

Talon walked over to the windowsill to stare out and up at the moon. "There were many times when I was sent after you where you could've ended or at least tired to end my life. Why didn't you?" the assassin finally asked. His pride had not allowed him to ever question it.

"Because you're good for Noxus. Why kill you when keeping alive would be better for our nation? Besides, having a little danger lurking around every now and again is entertaining." Katarina replied honestly as she looked at the assassin who was facing away from her.

"Hasn't the Noxian high-command sent enough people after you that you've had enough of this 'fun' of yours? Shouldn't taking out the final risk be better for you?" Talon turned and studied her.

"Just sending people after me doesn't count as a 'risk'. Fucking hell, you're a boring Talon. You'd think the high-command and my father would know this after the tenth time their plain, little assassin party didn't return." Katarina chuckled at this thought. "Father's an excellent warrior… but when it comes to letting up when things aren't going his way, well, he's a little lacking in that department. The high-command and my father have stopped sending those parties now, it's only you left. You're the only one who he sent that's ever managed to cut me… Cheeky bastard."

Talon paused, trying to decide whether those words held spite or amusement, or maybe both. "Only fools pledge their life to honour. I cut whenever I see a chance, no matter how underhanded."

"No problem, that sentiment is mutual," Katarina said as she reached up and flipped back his hood, "but it's still quite ironic though."

"Ironic?"

"Yes, ironic." Katarina smirked, "You say you don't pledge your life to honour yet you abide by my father's teaching regardless of anything. Wouldn't you call that honour, Talon?"

"I abide by those rules because they are effective." Talon said back simply.

The red-haired assassin laughed, "Sure, they are effective… but they are boring, monotonous, lacking character. That's no way to do a job. In my eyes, it's not the most effective way."

"Why not? Every kill should be the same: Quick and simple. The knife goes in, the knife comes out, and silence." Talon countered, his brow arching a little at her comment.

"Those kills lack passion. They lack the voracity that motivates a perfect kill. The perfect kill needs drive, it needs a life of its own just like the life you are about to take." Katarina brushed a finger against Talon's sternum, feeling his heartbeat as his breathing hitched for a single moment. "You're tense… I suppose a perfect weapon like yourself wouldn't understand a woman's touch. It's heat, it's passion but you're cold and dispassionate."

Talon reached up to her hand and grasped it in his but his grip wasn't rough. "Don't."

"Why not? Even a weapon needs balance." Katarina leaned in, closer to his ear so she could whisper to him. "You know, you and I, we can do a lot for Noxus if we weren't clawing at each other's throats all the time." Katarina slid her hand to Talon's neck, her slender fingers curling around it. "You're too uptight, Talon. Something needs to drive you. Something other than simply carrying out duties like a weapon because you are more than a weapon. You're a man who can be a weapon. Those are very different things."

Talon looked into her pale-green eyes. "I am a weapon. I walk alone on this path." He said firmly, his tone stubborn and unwavering.

Katarina's hand slid down from his throat and back to his chest. "It's a lonely path. A joyless path with no warmth. A knife wouldn't care about that but a person cannot live without some form of passion in their life. Steel doesn't have a heartbeat, Talon. It doesn't speak and think as a person does. You are a weapon but unlike a knife, you are not just a weapon." Talon was silent as Katarina spoke on. "Why do you think I acted against my father's orders? Because that was what I thought was correct. Because I am more than a weapon to be commanded around. I was haughty and I made my mistakes, I am not without my faults but I will never allow myself to be a tool because fuck that. Steel doesn't breathe. I breathe. Steel doesn't think. I think." She placed her palms against his face and smoothed the pad of her thumb against his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin. "Steel doesn't feel… but I can feel this. And you can too."

Talon allowed her to touch his face. Her hands were calloused from years of handling her daggers and short swords but they were still warm and gentle. Passion spurred their movements. A passion that Talon didn't fully understand and for the first time, the assassin wondered, in this life of his, was he missing something that he didn't even know he needed? He reflected back on his kills and how he carried out his orders. He was always satisfied but never happy. Every perfect kill was just another tick on the tally, another job. He understood why she laughed and smiled when she carried out her kills now. She was happy because she chose to carry out those duties for Noxus, she wasn't told by anyone. She was free and though Talon did not agree with her actions and just how mutinous she is, he couldn't help but find understanding as to why she did what she did.

"I… yes. I can feel it."

"Then come here." Katarina said softly as she stood onto her toes and leaned in, pressing her lips to Talon's.

Talon sucked in the crisp air and he held it there, letting his breath linger in his lungs as their kiss dragged on. Her lips were hot like the forge cold steel would be placed into. They were buzzing with the fires of passion and Talon could feel Katarina's desires radiating from her skin in dense waves as she pressed her body into his.

As they finally separated for breath, Talon gazed down at her and found the courage to hold her close. She was in the perfect position for him to slide a blade between her ribs and into her heart but that thought didn't cross his mind. Something else did though.

"General Swain of the Noxian high-command is a visionary. He's risen to the very top of the ranks in your time of exile. Perhaps you can lend your blade to Noxus once more." Talon said, his voice softening truly for the first time as he put his nation and consideration for someone else first.

"I already serve Noxus with my blades. I've never stopped-"

"You can serve without the nation trying to hunt you down. You can serve the way you'd like to serve. No more hard rules. It's a compromise. You will rejoin the Noxian assassins and you'll be pardoned for your crimes for the most part, along with being given the ability to complete your missions the way you'd like, as long as it also serves Noxus, of course." Talon said firmly as he tried to sway the red-haired woman.

"I… I'll consider it. I need to figure out if you are trustworthy first or if this is just another ploy." Katarina said as she backed up a step. "It's good conversing with you, Talon. Until next time." Katarina smiled, the scar Talon gave her which ran down her left eye and cheek shifted a little as she did.