AN: Apologies for the great delay between Chapter IV and Chapter V. I will do my best to make sure that doesn't happen again!

Name: unknown

Alias: Talon

Appearance: Male, approximately 6 feet tall

Position: Assassin

Origin: unknown

Allegiance: Noxus. Rumoured connection to Katarina of the House of Du Couteau.

Weapons: Throwing star-style blades. Evidence that it returns after being thrown. Throwing daggers also used.

Known Crimes: Connected to the deaths of thirteen Demacians over the last four years. Others suspected.

Information: Employs unnatural stealth (possibly cloaking magic) in majority of assassinations. Any known witnesses are killed or severely wounded and left for dead. All information based on wounded witnesses, second-hand accounts, and evidence left at the scenes.

If encountered, all precautions should be taken. Extremely dangerous.

Quinn crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it into the fire. "Useless. Val, he throws blades. That's it."

Valor brought his wing up, covering his face like a mask.

"The stealth part? I doubt that's real. You'll be able to spot him, so I'm not worried. But it's time to make tracks." Valor cocked his head and spread his wings. She rolled her eyes. "Well of course you won't make tracks. Just kill the fire, smart-ass."

He quickly brought his wings together, the gust extinguishing the small fire.

Quinn untied the horse from a nearby tree. "If we aren't back by noon, return home." The horse whinnied in response. Demacian horses may not speak, but they understood.

Valor flew up and hovered over Quinn's head as she began to walk. The Golden Crossing, a mountain pass framed by sharp peaks, was only a few hours away, but it would be a quiet hike. There was no good strategy in letting an assassin hear you coming.

Quinn trekked along the main path, unafraid of any attack. Valor was high in the air, scouting away, keeping eyes on the area around her. If the assassin was nearby, Valor would give the signal. They would find him.

But how she was going to take him down was another matter entirely.

Touring the Buvelle Estate, getting fitted for her armour, meeting soldiers: she got so excited for all the new things in her life that she neglected some of her old things, like her crossbow. After being told of the mission by Jarvan IV, she didn't have the time to find a blacksmith to craft bolts, nor the time to make them herself. The beauty of her custom crossbow was its three-shot volley, however it didn't use standard bolts. Quinn either had to take the hours to make them, or have them made, and ran out of time to do either. A quick trip to the armoury got her a bow and a couple quivers of arrows, but she hadn't used a bow in years. Not since Caleb's death.

You don't just forget how to use a bow, she had told herself, you may just be a little rusty. Not exactly the best words before facing off against a killer, but it's what she had.

She pulled out the bow as she got closer to the pass. It was heavier than what she remembered using, but she had been a teenager during those times. The draw weight was also stiffer than her old bow, and Quinn had to use a bit of effort to get to full draw. Guess I better work on my arm strength. She never thought that using a crossbow for so long would make using a bow more difficult. Chalk that up to life experience.

As the first snowflake fell in front of her, she took stock of the environment. The moon didn't light the landscape much, and the cloud cover rolling in hinted at continuous snow, hopefully in time to mask her approach. It would also cover tracks made from any travellers, but Valor was the trump card. There wasn't a target he hadn't yet been able to find.

A few minutes later, Quinn made a gesture to her right, signalling to Valor before she left the road for the trees. She tightened the grip on the bow as she left the beaten path. Whereas the trail was even gravel, here it was jagged with rocks and tree roots. Every step she took had to be measured for sound, and for stability. She had torn a ligament in her ankle on a hunt once, and limping home was not something she needed to do again.

The light crunch of the snow beneath her boots kept Quinn from moving too quickly, and it was falling thick and heavy. Valor's silence meant he hadn't found anything, and Quinn had not seen any signs either. According to the killer's taunt, he was expecting no pursuit, so no ambush was planned. It was all a matter of tracking him quickly-

Valor's screech shocked Quinn out of her thoughts. She hit the ground as a dagger flew past where her head was a moment before.

A male voice echoed from the forest, "Scared of a little bird, girl? It saved you, so take the time to thank it. You don't have much left."

Quinn cursed under her breath as she rolled behind a large tree. Any plans were now ruined. Catching sight of Valor, she made a circular motion with her hand, leaving it to him to give her a target. Peeking around the tree, she hoped to find a glimpse of the man.

Through the snowfall, a dagger flew, slicing through fabric and skin at her hip. Quinn swiftly nocked and fired an arrow blindly in the direction it came from. All she heard was the arrow whistle through the forest.

"That tree won't protect you all night."

"You haven't even hurt me yet," she called back. No response was given.

Overconfident jerk. He was talking, taunting, trying to drive her out. This wasn't a stealthy assassin, it was a man that seemed stealthy because everybody who saw him ended up dead. He made his targets angry, and angry people make mistakes.

Quinn dashed towards another large tree, putting herself in danger to try and get a visual on the man. A dagger ricocheted off her pauldron just before she found cover.

"Seems that shiny armour isn't just for show."

A continuous low screech from Valor alerted Quinn as he circled overhead. She made a sweeping motion while aiming the arrow in the direction of the eagle's call. Soon as Valor went silent, that was the signal. She leaned around the tree, letting loose her bowstring.

A man in a dark cloak was directly in the path of the arrow. The whites of his eyes grew more visible at his surprise. He twisted as it neared, but could not completely avoid it. A spray of blood from his shoulder was visible before he, too, ducked behind a tree.

"Well, you aren't a little girl with a bow. You're a girl with a pet bird."

"This bird will keep you in his sights." She kneeled as she kept an eye on his tree. "You cannot escape now. Surrender yourself to Demacia and I promise, you will arrive unharmed."

"Unharmed, you say? And after I arrive?"

"That is not for me to decide." Quinn signalled to Valor. He started to glide lower.

"Execution. Typical Demacia. No trial, I imagine."

Keep him talking, keep him distracted. "I was told to bring you back for sentencing."

"King Jarvan wants a trial? Please. Now I know you're lying."

"Demacia doesn't lie. You will get a fair trial that all criminals get."

"You're either a chronic liar, or you don't know Demacia. Doesn't really matter."

He leaned around the tree and threw three daggers past Quinn. They slowed in mid-air before expanding into throwing stars, and reversing direction to fly directly at her. Ducking too late, she felt pain on her cheek and blood drip down her chin. She hadn't believed the report of boomerang daggers, and she paid for it.

"I am no liar, Talon."

"You live. Not bad, for a little girl."

Quinn's grip on her bow tightened. "You just said I was no little girl with a bow."

Valor landed on a branch several feet above her head.

"That was before your little Demacian comment. You know nothing. You're just a little girl with no idea what you're doing, or how the world works. I will be doing everyone a favour in killing you."

She had enough. "Gouge him, Valor."

He launched off the branch, soaring past the tree as she walked around the tree towards him, firing several arrows as a distraction. The assassin would be forced to either take the eagle head-on, or retreat into the volley. There was no escape.

Except, he didn't try to escape. Instead, he threw multiple daggers at Quinn and Valor.

Her body contorted, trying to avoid them, but was not successful. One sliced her shin, another sunk into her leather chestplate as she fell backwards. Quinn screamed as the blades pierced skin and cut veins. The ground jarred Quinn when it hit, but she got back to her feet, despite the pain, and fired another arrow that went wide.

He smiled at her. "Impressive." He pointed to her right. "Your other half, not so much."

She looked over to see Valor lying on the ground, a dagger sticking out of his chest.

"Val!" Quinn scrambled towards her best friend.

He wasn't moving: not his chest, his wings, his beak. Nothing.

"Valor!" she cried out, hoping for a sound in return. Nothing was heard.

"You call it Valor?" he said as he started walking towards them, daggers in hand. "Terrible name. He didn't even show valor in his death."

Quinn stopped moving, and gave the man a death glare. Her blood was boiling, her fists turning white from clenching them so hard, her body was shaking from the anger rising. More than anything, she wanted the man dead.

"Archers have no use for rage."

A voice echoing in her head interrupted her actions. It was her mother's voice, repeating what she was told during her training.

"You have to be steady, looking down the shaft of an arrow. You have to breathe, you have to concentrate, you have to be able to wait for your target."

Training made that phrase sound off whenever rage took hold. It had calmed her, allowed her to hit targets that she would have missed through anger and frustration. But now, it sounded wrong. The hot rage made her focus only on the assassin's death. Breathing, concentration, patience, they seemed pointless. Not even the heavy cold snow surrounding them would cool her anger. Only his death would.

"Archers have no use for rage." Quinn agreed.

Her yell filled with fury, Quinn dropped her bow and launched herself at the man, bloodlust pushing her forward. Her daggers found their way into her hands.

"Archers have no use for rage."

Until Valor's killer was dead, she was no archer. The daggers aimed straight for his heart, but were stopped by his own blades.

"The little girl has claws. Is she angry her birdy died?"

Her voice seethed as she growled, "I'll kill you." She grit her teeth, pushing all her weight against him. Rage clouded her vision, but the grin on his face remained.

He leaned back and spun to the side, catching Quinn off-guard and making her fall forward. He swung as he rotated, slicing her back with his daggers, both cuts deep. A gasp escaped her throat as the ground approached.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. After those wounds on her back, he doubted she would be able to crawl. "Stay down, little girl. After your bird helped you aim, I thought maybe you may entertain me. Maybe you could test me. Maybe-"

A dagger in his throat stopped any more words from coming out. Quinn looked him in the eye as she plunged her other dagger into his chest.

"Maybe what? Maybe I would wound you?"

Her back was on fire from the deep cuts, but anger blocked out any pain. Even she didn't know how she had gotten back to her feet after his attack, but it did not matter. All she needed to know was that he was dead.

"Maybe I would let you live?"

She pulled the daggers out of his body and felt the spray of blood on her face. She plunged them both into his chest.

"Maybe I would let you live after killing Valor?"

The daggers went in as far as Quinn could push them. He fell back, and she fell with him, her hands never leaving the daggers.

"Maybe I would spare you for killing my best friend?"

The blades pulled out roughly before descending back into his chest.

"Maybe I would show you mercy for killing my partner?!"

Again, the daggers fell into his body. They pulled out easier with each motion.

"I'll kill you for killing Valor!"

She continued stabbing his body repeatedly. When one of the daggers broke off in his chest, she took one of his and continued impaling him. Her throat became hoarse from the rage that she yelled. Long had it been since she could feel her arms, and yet they still moved.

When at last her body gave out, and her arms just hung at her sides, her mind began to clear. Rage started to dissipate as breathing slowed, her vision clearing.

Quinn saw what was in front of her, and it made her sick. A mass of blood and flesh, with a chest cavity torn open from her actions. Crawling a couple feet away, she left the contents of her stomach on the fresh layer of snow. Looking back at the body was unnerving as the snowflakes landed, but quickly melted among the warm blood. Quinn vomited once more at the sight. It wasn't just that he was dead, it was what she had done to him.

Then it was forgotten as she thought of Valor. She scrambled to her feet, looking for her companion. Vision became clouded once more, not from rage, but from tears.

Valor hadn't moved. His wings were sprawled to the sides, and the dagger was still sticking out of his chestplate. The white cover of snow fell off as she gently picked him up. Despite all the words that she couldn't contain against the killer, only two came to her mind as she held him close.

"I'm sorry."

Her mind played tricks, making her think she heard Valor's breath one more time. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall, not believing it. Years together, blood and sweat shed as they trained, and it was over. She had lost another partner. She was so tired, so exhausted, but she couldn't let go of him.

Minutes passed by as Quinn could not open her eyes, could not move, could not say anything but those two words. At last, when she had no more tears to give, when her breathing was back to normal, she heard the eagle's breath once more. No longer did she think it was a trick. She looked intently at Valor's beak as she held her own breath.

There was movement. Ever so slightly, his beak opened.

He lives?

Gently laying him on the ground, her hand hovered over his beak. A weak breath was felt. Shock took over. She couldn't believe he was dead, but now, she couldn't believe he was alive.

Quinn looked him over carefully, finding the only thing afflicting him was the dagger embedded in his chestplate. Worry got into her mind, knowing the armour could be keeping the wound closed and keeping him alive, but she had to remove it to see the damage.

Cautiously, the straps were undone, and the metal was lifted off his chest. Instantly his eyes flew open and he gasped for air. Quinn ran her hands through his feathers quickly to find the wound, but couldn't even find blood. Relief flooded her.

"You're alive."

As Valor gulped more and more air into his lungs, Quinn looked at the inside of the chestplate. The dagger had bent it in where it penetrated, but the blade had only gone through about a centimetre. Valor had looked dead because his chest had been compressed by the bent metal, not because of the dagger piercing anything. She tossed the armour to the side, throwing away her worries with it.

"You son of a bitch. You made me cry and everything."

Valor shrugged his shoulders. Quinn just shook her head. But as he attempted to get up, she stopped him.

"Hold on Val, let me see if anything is broken. Wouldn't be surprised if a rib is."

Valor folded his wings over his breast and let out a meek caw.

"Oh you were always naked before the armour, and you definitely aren't shy." She felt some moisture and parted a few feathers to find a small cut on his chest, but nothing felt out of place. "You'll be fine. May have suffered some brain damage because of oxygen loss but nobody will notice."

Valor whacked her in the face with a wing.

Quinn let out a laugh. "After all that, I'll take it. Here." Quinn grabbed the wing and helped Valor to his feet. He spread his wings, shook off the snow, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then he pointed his wing into the forest, and looked at Quinn. She looked to where he pointed.

The assassin's body was still in full view. Only a few metres away, she could even see the broken part of the dagger in what was left of him. The joy of Valor living evaporated as she saw the mangled remains of the man. Quinn looked away. She did not want to think about what she had done.

Valor had other ideas. He walked over to her and looked into her eyes before again pointing at the body.

She couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

Valor used his wing to turn Quinn's head. He looked into her eyes and, again, pointed at the body.

"What do you want me to say, Valor? I had to eliminate the target-"

Valor gave Quinn a sharp look. Her mind searched for a different reason.

"I had to kill him. He would have killed me. I was defending myself-"

Valor brought his face close enough to touch beak to nose. He stared unblinking at Quinn.

Red hot shame washed over her face. "I murdered him! Is that what you wanted to hear? I thought he had killed you and I lost it. He taunted me about your death and I let rage take over. I stabbed him. I stabbed him over and over and over until I couldn't lift my arms. I couldn't stop myself. I stabbed him so many times one of my daggers broke off. There you go. I didn't kill a target. I murdered a man. Are you happy now?"

Valor nodded.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You just wanted me to come out and say it?" Valor nodded. "You heard the whole thing, didn't you?" Valor nodded one more time. She shook her head. "I guess I didn't end up much better than Talon." Again, a wing smacked her right in the face. "Dammit Valor, I have a cut there! You could be gentle every once and a while." Valor responded by putting his wing softly on her shoulder. "I mean before the physical abuse."

He shrugged his shoulders before looking towards the assassin's body. He dug a small hole with his talons, then rolled a rock into it.

"No. He doesn't deserve a burial."

It was Quinn's idea to burn the body, to eliminate the evidence. Not just so Noxus couldn't find a body, but also so Quinn didn't have to look at it. The plan was to surround the body with stones and stack firewood on it, but when they started, Quinn fought a sickness rising in her stomach.

When she fell to her knees, she knew the battle was lost. The elation of discovering Valor alive faded when they dealt with the mangled corpse. Every time she looked at the body, a lightheaded and nauseous feeling swept over her. How was she going to explain this to Jarvan IV? He wanted the assassin captured or killed, not executed. Not murdered. This was not how Demacians served justice.

That wasn't the only thing on Quinn's mind. Maybe trying to justify her actions, she thought about the assassin.

I don't think that was Talon.

Perhaps the information Demacia had on him wasn't accurate. Perhaps he wasn't as deadly as the reports said. However, even if it was only half-accurate, this assassin was brash and talkative, and his taunting message about going to the Golden Crossing didn't quite fit Talon's modus operandi. If it was a proper bait, Quinn should be dead. Had she gotten lucky, or was he not the deadly person they thought?

Or did rage save me? She tried to look at that logically, and still felt embarrassment at succumbing to it.

Her cheeks heated up, but it wasn't from her actions. Valor had finished surrounding the Noxian's body with stones and wood, and had somehow lit the fire to consume the body. Quinn wondered how he lit the fire, but it hardly mattered. "Thanks, Val. Sorry I didn't help much."

He walked over to Quinn, showing some concern on his face.

"I'll be okay," she told him, "just not today." Large blue wings wrapped around her, embracing her, closing her off from the world. A little calmness entered Quinn's mind as she also held her best friend, enjoying the quiet moment together. She closed her eyes as exhaustion started to mount, feeling that in a minute or two, sleep could actually take over.

Valor abruptly squawked and jolted Quinn's eyes open. "Dammit Valor, I was just-" His wing was in front of her, dripping blood. Confusion took over. "How did… " she said as she started to rise to her feet.

Only, she couldn't rise. She barely got off her knees when a wave of vertigo hit, forcing her to use her hands to keep from falling face first. She focused on the snow-covered ground as she was bent over, trying to stop her mind from swimming.

Panic was now plain in Valor's eyes as he started to press his wings on Quinn's back, quick caws escaping his beak. "Calm down, Valor." Once again she tried to rise, only to be stopped by pain this time. Valor kept on frantically applying pressure on her back when she realized the problem. The blood wasn't Valor's. It was Quinn's.

The assassin had wounded her with deep cuts on her back, but blinded by rage, sorrow, and joy, her body blocked out the pain. Now, the loss of blood was taking it toll.

She collapsed on the ground.