Unstable Matters: the Journal of Zac

by msn00100

Years of fighting in the League of Legends has put Zac into a slump from the ruthless politics of Runeterra. When he is ordered by the Institute to stop an Ionian civil war from breaking out, will he live up to both his titles of a Secret Weapon and Zaunite Superhero? Or will the plots of others drag the world into more violence and bloodshed? (Old/new canon. See AN inside.)

4. Chapter 3: Instituting War (R)

Unstable Matters Chapter 3: Instituting War (R)

Human nature hates a lack of information.

Where we can't find it, we go looking for it. In some cases, we just outright invent it.

That was my case walking into the inner city of the Institute of War. I knew something was waiting for me. Something that involved me, others I liked, and others I didn't. Willfully ignorant, at the smell of adventure I charged into the hinterland looking for answers.

And then I remembered that I could be running into answers I didn't want to find.

But since trouble was interested in finding me, maybe I never stood a chance in the first place.

War is something easy to understand when it's written down on paper. It seems so distant and academic printed in black on white pages. Even projection recordings about battles during the Rune Wars have a cool, detached narration to them that keeps any viewer from understanding how horrible it all really is.

This is nothing more than a sanity filter. Something to allow people to take in information and separate the numbers and accounts from the awful reality. It's why those who lead armies can do all sorts of terrible things to the enemy and their own that no sane man would think of if he had to look them in the eye before doing it. Which is the reason they don't, of course.

The exception to all of this though was the Institute of War, and it's League of Legends.

Zac, the Secret Weapon, Champion of the Institute of War

---

"Sister, there's a package for you."

Wrapping a towel around her crimson hair, Katarina Du Couteau watched her younger sister slither past her dropping off a small booklet onto a nearby table as she did. Outside of the windows of their shared room the sun was beginning to peak, reflecting into the tinted windows and creating shadows that played tricks on amateur eyes. Shivering from the cool air tickling her skin after stepping out from the shower, she wrapped a second wet towel around her neck loosely before walking over to pick up the pamphlet from where Cassiopeia had left it. Rolling up the sleeves of her bathrobe, Kat scanned the first few pages loosely before beginning to flip through the rest.

"From the High Command," Cassiopeia explained, before her elder sister asked. She made a gesture to one of the maid servants waiting in the corner of the room attentively to give them their privacy, and only continued after they were gone. "There are some big changes coming to the Summoner's Runes and Masteries. A lot of them should concern you."

"I'm aware," Katarina said, walking while still reading and sitting down onto the large couch in the center of their shared room. Allowing herself to relax for a moment, she sunk back into the plush cushions and crossed her legs absentmindedly. Even with her scheduled match on Summoner's Rift canceled early, there were other duties she had to attend as part of being one of the highest-ranking Noxian Champions in the League.

"No rest for the wicked, huh," she said in a low voice.

Now done for the day, her assigned lodgings were one of the few places she could let her guard down and relax. The raw number of hidden protective enchantments around her made their home away from home a small fortress in the largest one on Runeterra. So too, the Institute had spared no expense to mirror the interior to match their family's mansion back in the Immortal Bastion. She had always thought of it as a mildly amusing tribute toward her and her sister's role as Champions in the League until she had seen how Jericho Swain's commissioned command room in the Noxian Quarter was the same. The disturbingly perfect copy of their world was not a gift so much as a reminder that the Institute of War was a centerpiece of the world, and even the most personal of comforts and memories could be replicated with ease.

"Do you remember what he asked you to do today?"

"Yes, I've already gone through the roster he sent me. All of them are worthless."

"Your standards are too high sister," Cassiopeia chastised, rolling her eyes in amusement as she did. Sliding over to another window in the room as she now always did, she opened the thick set of curtains to let the full glory of the sun heat the spot on the couch that would soon be hers. "You can't expect Crimson Elite recruits to be as strong as you or Talon."

"No, Swain's are too low," Kat countered, her eyes still fixated on the papers in her hand. "It's bad enough that I'm not being sent out on missions because too many people know who I am. Now he has me digging through trash to find gold."

"Everyone has to start somewhere."

"Maybe. But the League is no place for new recruits."

Her conflicting body language was a combination of tense but relieved. The bite in her tone from no provocation. Words spoken with a touch of agitation, and the overzealous passion of their speaker. Cassiopeia's years of seducing and prying secrets from nobility and dignitaries alike had taught her a lot. In many ways she was a better judge of character than her elder sister, and for all of Katarina's years being an assassin on special assignments away from home, she could still read her like an open book. There was something more important on her mind than the busywork Swain sent her, and more haunting than the looming shadow of the Du Couteau estate being passed down to her with their father's disappearance.

Even while resting at her home away from home in the Institute, she could feel a headache coming on just thinking about the politics of the empire. The island of Ionia was a beautiful and exotic land unlike any other in the empire, and that she wished she had gotten a chance to see after its initial conquest. But what should have been one of the brightest jewels in the empire had quickly devolved into an indefinite stalemate. Then in one afternoon on the Fields of Justice history was rewritten, and for the first time in centuries an invading Noxian army was forced to retreat from their conquest. The fallout alone had rocked Noxus to its core, shattering the invincible image the military nobility had cultivated over centuries. In its place rose a new hierarchy, and perhaps it was no coincidence that it resembled the same power that had forced the rest of the world to recognize its strength.

Still, for all of their time spent apart in their youth they had grown closer as kin. Sisters, and daughters of Noxus. In their youth they had looked at each other with disdain, like all siblings do when rivaling for the adoration and affection of a parent. But no longer; they were both part of something bigger, and more important than anything dreamt up in their youth.

"Tea?" Cassiopeia offered, taking a small empty cup from a set on a silver tray on the table between them.

"I'll never understand why you like that Shuriman leaf dust," Katarina remarked, not even glancing at the empty cup offered to her by her sister.

"It's an acquired taste," Cassiopeia defended, though it was a half-truth at best. If her older sister looked carefully, she could have seen an unnatural dark sheen reflected in the brown liquid being poured out from the small cast iron teapot steaming from a small magic heater. "Are you sure you won't reconsider? It's been a while since we've been able to...talk, like this."

"No rest for the wicked," said Katarina, Cassiopeia frowned, her plan slightly derailed by her elder sister's coolly distanced attitude. But like a true Du Couteau, resistance only spurned her to try harder. She would find out what she wanted to know, one way or another.

"I heard that Swain is calling for another general meeting to discuss the developments in Freljord. Will you be attending?"

"No. It doesn't matter who comes out on top in their little civil war. All of Valoran will be ours in time."

"Hah hah," Cassiopeia couldn't help but laugh lightly. Although never short on patriotism, her sister was hardly the type to make such grandiose statements. Was it possible that she wanted to vent, and a more direct approach would work after all? "You sounded like the old buzzard for a moment. So tell me, what has you in such deep thought? Hmm?"

"It's that renegade bio-weapon from Zaun." She almost wanted to interrupt her sister and ask which one, considering the number of monstrosities originating from the mad science city-state seemed to climb every day. "The big green one. Singed is interested in him, and when I did some digging I found out that his creator hasn't been able to replicate whatever they did to create him."

"You mean the one who calls himself Zac?"

"Do you know anything about him?"

"He's not hard to figure out. Young, energetic, with bravado to spare," Cassiopeia described dryly, having never bothered to get to know the strange creature that kept to himself most of the time. She vaguely remembered some of the publications and advertisements that had come with his entry into the League of Legends, but they hardly seemed to matter now. "A boy in the body of a monster, on the verge of blooming into a man. He'll be at the peak of his cuteness soon."

The look her older sister was giving her was an indescribable mixture of disgust and confusion. It was a look that Cassiopeia had become accustomed to getting, but she raised her cup to her lips to hide the frown forming on her lips. "You know what I meant," she explained drolly. "Don't make that face at me. You reminded me of Talon."

"There's nothing funny about him. He's dangerous to us."

"He's not dangerous; he's just a street urchin. He talks to his arm blades when he sharpens them. It's adorable."

"This is serious, Cass!" Katarina raised her voice for only a second before forcing herself to stop. "And don't bring up that little rat to me. If he wasn't a Champion in the League with us I would have killed him a long time ago."

"Oh, come now. He's not so bad." The Serpent's Embrace smiled at the memories coming to her mind. How informally their father had just introduced him; another rat from the sewers to be trained in the killing arts. One of countless others, that had either by luck or skill managed to survive. "The way he calls me Lady Du Couteau is quite charming. He's proven himself quite useful for how expendable he was."

"You know I hate being called that. Lady Du Couteau was our mother, and you—"

"Yes, yes. I've heard it from you a million times," Cassiopeia said, waving her hand in the air as a distraction. Making her way over to the couch, she started to coil her lower half together on her side to sit comfortably. "I've got our mother's charm, and you have our father's guts. Though I would say that line has started to blur ever since I—"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it a million times," Katarina repeated, blowing off her younger sister who simply let out a loud huff in response. "You keep telling everyone you're one of those things now. What do they call themselves again? The Afflicted?"

"Ascended," Cassiopeia corrected, knowing that her older sister was teasing her. "They were worshipped as gods, you know."

"If they were gods, how did they die?"

"Who says that they're dead? You've met Shurima's so-called emperor." Cass's mind drifted to the shining golden visage of Azir; an enigma that arrived suddenly one day at the Institute, declaring himself the returning ruler of the long-dead empire. It would have just been another oddity for the Institute to parade in the League of Legends, if not for the reports that the ancient capital of Shurima had returned erupting from the earth days after his arrival. In response Noxus had immediately reinforced its control over its holdings over what had been the outer edge of the Shuriman Empire, but for all of the pomp and fanfare over Azir's return nothing had happened since.

"He seems quite lively for someone that seems to be made of magic and sand."

"Stop trying to distract me, Cass. I'm trying to figure out why he wants him to come on this mission?"

There it was. Cassiopeia could taste the sweetness on the tip of her forked tongue, and it wasn't from the tea in her hands.

"The arms deal, you mean?"

"Why does he want him to come along?" Cassiopeia could see the gears in her sister's head turning from the frustrated and partially vacant look in her eyes. The kind of look she expected an assassin to make when there were a hundred scenarios being plotted out in their mind, but none of them were giving the answer they sought. "He has nothing to do with this. He isn't a Noxian, and he has no relation to anyone in Ionia. It doesn't make any sense."

"...Have you considered asking the Grand General why?"

It was a simple enough question, but the look of bitter loathing she got in return for it said enough. "Orders are orders. You know that just as much as I do."

"So you say," Cassiopeia conceded, not at all planning on surrendering any time soon. "Will you be visiting him today, then? Should you get something prepared to bribe him with? Or perhaps you could put your feminine charms to use for once?"

"Don't bother. The High Command sent me a damn book filled with things they want me to say to him to convince him to sign up for this stupid mission." Katarina pointing one of her throwing knives over at a small brown book Cassiopeia had seen her carrying around a day before.

...But only a day before?

"When did they give you that book?"

"Yesterday, after our meeting to discuss the personnel changes in the Demacian Quarter." Katarina snubbed her nose at it, looking as if she were ready to use it for target practice. "They sent it by secure Summoner courier and everything. Not even my mission briefings get sent with that much security."

Only a day before? The timing was strange, to be sure.

"So he's a late addition to the mission?" Cassiopeia said out loud in thought. "You've known about this arms deal for over a month. Why would they want you to include a neutral Champion at the last minute?"

"Now you know why I'm annoyed," Katarina said, scratching her head and running a hand through her still slightly damp hair. "It doesn't make any damn sense. Don't they know that he's an abnormal? They're adding a really big and stupid complication at the last minute for me."

Abnormal; a code word that the few people deeply involved in Noxus' affairs the Institute and the League would know.

To the surprise of no one, the roster of the Institute of War's League of Legends ranged from slobbering beasts, child-sized creatures, superhumans, and even a living mountain. Not all Champions were equal to each other, and the solution to regulating the life and death struggles on the Fields of Justice was largely handled through magic. The same magic prevented combatants on the field from exercising their real strength, or gave them more strength to survive the myriad forms of destruction casually flung around the arena every day.

For any Noxian in the know, the word Abnormal signified that everything about the associated Champion was a mystery. In spite of all the resources at the High Command's disposal, it was unknown how they came about, it was unknown how they lived outside of the Institute's control, and more importantly it was unknown if they were stronger or weaker off the Fields of Justice.

"Well, you know what they say about boys and their toys. The more dangerous, the better?" Cassiopeia offered, trying to simplify a complication that couldn't be. With the increasing number of Noxian battlefronts, the amount of weapons projects from Zaun had increased as well. She had heard stories of the metal war machines and nightmarish creatures bred on commission for combat, but like everything in war and politics, she could imagine the few successes being used to cover for countless failures. "So, what are you going to do? Are you just going to walk up to him and ask him if he'll spend the next month with you running around Runeterra?"

"Hardly," Kat scoffed, and Cassiopeia wondered if that meant she was going to convince Talon to do it for her. "They want me to spy on him first, and then try to convince him to fight for us."

"Spy on him? You?" Cassiopeia suddenly found herself trying not to sound too conceited. "They make it sound so easy, don't they?"

"You said it first; he's an overgrown child in the body of a freakishly durable monster. Don't get me started on his narrow little views of the world."

"It can't be that bad, can it? How naive can you be when you're born into the world as a weapon?"

"I prefer my weapons mute." Reaching into the folded sleeves of her bathrobe, Katarina pulled one of her custom throwing daggers out. Cassiopeia almost rolled her eyes at the sight, since she often wondered if her older sister was truly paranoid enough to feel the need to have a weapon within reach at every moment in her life. "Silent. Obedient. Unquestioning."

"Don't forget sharp," Cassiopeia remarked dryly, knowing that Kat was imagining the dagger in her hand flying in the air and hitting some poor fool dead between the eyes. Once. Twice. Maybe a hundred times even.

"Now then..."

Still clad only in her bathrobe, Cassiopeia watched her older sister lick her lips as she let an evil grin spread from ear to ear. Disappearing in a magic flash from one of her assassination techniques, she reappeared landing nimbly in front of a large wooden wardrobe. Pulling on both doors at the same time, she stepped back as the heavy doors swung open and revealed a cache collection of weapons of all kinds and shapes. A small sample of everything imaginable from custom forged blades to lethal hextech devices lay and hung on every drawer or panel within.

From behind her Cassiopeia simply sighed, pouring herself another cup of tea and taking a sip. Couldn't their father have instilled a little subtlety when honing her sister's killer instinct? Whatever she was thinking, it would probably take two teams of elite Noxian Summoners to stop her now. One group to convince her to stop, and the other group to carry the bodies of the first that had failed.

Still smiling like a fiend, Katarina caressed the surface of a custom-crafted Bilgewater cutlass with a delicate touch.

"Who wants to have some fun?"

---

Opening the door and stepping inside, Zac heard the sound of bells ringing hung above the door frame before he bumped his head into them from his own height. He hadn't been expecting too much, or rather, he hadn't known what to expect at all since rumors around the League were never trustworthy to begin with. But at a quick glance around the interior of Sinful Succulence was a lot more casual than he had imagined. Simple interior furnishing like any other restaurant in the city surrounding the Institute of War, with nothing that would make it clear that the place was owned and managed by a powerful demi-god born to represent one of the most complicated concepts in human history.

But at least there were no other Champions from the League in sight.

"Come in and take a seat. It doesn't matter where; I'll be with you in a moment."

Mustering up his courage to continue walking into the lioness' den, Zac silently walked in and seated himself on one of the fixed chairs barely managing to squeeze his large legs underneath the counter. The seat underneath was too small as well, making for an awkward picture for anyone who was going to walk into the bakery after him. Not that giant humanoid jelly monsters were common in the Institute anyway.

Go to Sinful Succulence. Ask for the baker's special. Then ask her why.

The voice of the Aspect of the Twilight repeated itself in his mind. It was expected that Champions with different backgrounds but similar goals would collude with each other outside the Fields of Justice, but what connection could Morgana have with Zoe? What had Jinx and Lulu said earlier too; something about being a leader of something else? Was there more at stake here than he could even begin to understand?

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the gentle sound of a porcelain cup being placed down in front of him. Looking up, he met eyes with Morgana, who looked very different from her normal attire she donned when fighting in the League. A dark-winged angel constantly surrounded by dark magics, and clad only in a metal bra and long flowing leather skirt that dragged along the ground unnaturally. Now in front of him stood the same Aspect of Justice, but in the much more tame baker's ensemble she sometimes wore. Even the iconic black lightning bolt tattoo over her left eye was gone, along with most of the black paint on her face.

"It's on the house, for a first time customer," she explained, after watching him look at the drink she had served him in confusion. "My special blend. I've yet to serve any mortal who can't appreciate its complexity and depth of flavor."

Zac resisted the urge to cringe at the substance before him, which had the color and texture of the ground after Morgana used her signature Tormented Soil spell. Not only that, but the dark brew seemed to be bubbling on its own with a consistency of soft asphalt.

"It tastes better than it looks," Morgana said, smirking in amusement from his hesitation. "Don't be a child."

"Don't push me," Zac muttered, looking down at the concoction with mixed feelings. Mustering up his courage after a few seconds, he pinched the cup's handles with his two fingers and brought it up to his jaw for a taste. To his pleasant surprise, whatever was going down his mouth and into his gullet was a lot more tolerable in taste than it was in appearance. After taking another sip, he placed the cup back down onto the white china saucer gently.

"So, uh," not sure how to proceed, Zac stopped for a second before deciding to go for the direct route.

"...Why?"

He watched one of Morgana's brow arch in a cross of confusion and amusement. "Why, what? Why did I join the League of Legends? Why open a bakery? Why is my sister such an unfeeling bitch?" Morgana crossed her arms under her chest and laughed lightly at him. "You're going to be a little more specific than that, young man."

He mentally kicked himself for expecting anything passed down to him from a trickster demi-god to be easy. But before he could say something, Morgana spoke first.

"Zoe ambushed you, didn't she?"

Zac nodded numbly, still not sure what he could say to take control of the conversation. From across the front counter of her bakery Morgana sighed, putting a hand over her forehead before shaking her head.

"I suggest you forget everything she said. Even if by chance any of it made sense, it was entirely by coincidence and won't be of any help to you." Reaching out for the clay tea kettle resting on a burner behind her, she slowly refilled his cup to the brim with another helping of the dark mystery brew. With the kettle now empty, she then took it and placed it back onto a nearby rune inscribed stone slab behind the counter. "Now that that's out of the way, I don't believe we've been introduced before, outside of the Rift that is." Morgana inspected him from her side of the counter curiously. "And where are you from? Do you even know that much?"

"I don't represent any city-state, if that's what you mean." Zac took a sip from his second helping, setting the cup back down in its saucer gently. In spite of how it looked the strange black sludge in his cup was starting to grow on him. "I was created at Zaun, but I'm here fighting for my own reasons."

"From Zaun, hmm? You don't look or sound like anything from the Void. Yes... I see it now." Pulling out a mixture of ingredients all foreign to him, he watched her take a pinch of some and a handful of others before throwing them into the empty kettle. "But enough about that. You don't seem like the type who socializes a lot, so what brings you to my humble shop? Are you going around and exploring the Institute after your year of solitude? Or did you hear the rumors and decided to investigate at your own peril?"

Year of solitude? He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but decided against it.

"Something like that," Zac said, pushing aside his memories of earlier events in the day. "I've been getting a lot of attention lately, and I can't say I like it."

"Welcome to the club." Morgana let out a rich laugh before taking the connoisseur cap off of her head and letting her dark purple hair run down her back. Brushing some stray locks out from her face, she looked at him with an evil grin. "Has anyone told you to look out for Morello yet?"

"What? Who?"

"You know that arcane tomb they sell in the shop? The Morellonomicon?" He nodded dumbly, vaguely remembering the strange book since he rarely had any Summoners purchase items that enhanced the power of his abilities. "They say it's named after some high ranked official who works behind the scenes. The man who's responsible for measuring and 'balancing' what our powers do on Summoner's Rift. If you become too friendly with other champions, you'll be made useless to keep the League's roster balanced."

"Sorry, but I don't believe in ghost stories. Aren't there enough monsters in the League already?"

Morgana chuckled mirthfully. "That's what they all say, but the real monsters are the temptations inside of us."

Zac resisted the urge to roll his eye, and absent-mindedly finished off the second cup she had served him. Taking it in much more slowly he could taste some vague flavors; some bitter and some sweet in the steaming self-bubbling brew. He looked up at the clock on the wall, unsure of what hours Morgana worked until or when he would have to politely leave himself. There wasn't anything he had to do per se, even if the bakery was empty, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome either. But seeing that they were alone, he wondered if this was the time meant for him to ask what had been on his mind ever since Ahri attached herself to him. Hell, maybe Morgana was even expecting it.

"So, uh," he started, trying to get back on track. "I think you know why I'm here."

"I may know why you're here, but do you know why you're here?" Morgana asked, turning a question back at him.

"...No, I don't," Zac said, deciding to answer honestly. For that he got another low laugh out of Morgana, but it didn't seem to hold any condescension in it.

"Tread carefully, young man. Are you willing to pay a price in blood for the truth?"

"If you don't mind green goo instead, I guess so." Zac shrugged. Watching her continue to clean behind the small counter in silence, he swallowed his fears and looked down into the empty cup that she had served him. He could see little bits and fragments of something floating in it, which he severely doubted were just regular herbs and spices for flavoring. "So why am I here? What do Noxus, Ahri, and Zoe all have in common with each other? And why did they want me to come here to talk with you?"

"Do you believe in heroes?" Morgana asked, answering a question with a question.

"I know that there are people who risk their lives every day to help others for nothing in return. I don't know if I can call myself one, but those kinds of people are heroes to me."

"And why is that?" Morgana asked again. "Don't you risk your life every day? Fighting on the Fields of Justice with the other Champions in the League."

"That's not the same. The Institute can use their magic to control everything that happens. There's no real risk involved for anyone fighting."

"Is that what you really think?" He saw her flash a wicked grin from the side of her face. "I think many Summoners would be insulted to hear that. Being able to manipulate life and death like a child's game is no small feat."

"That's not the same, no matter what the Summoners might say." Zac decided to stand his ground on this. "Every day outside of the Institute bad things happen to good people. You can't solve everything in an arena, and a lot of people can't afford to hire a Champion to fight for them."

"Then why stay in the League? Why not return home and go back to fighting Chembarons and their thugs in the alleys and streets of Zaun?"

"How do you know about any of that?"

"I read a lot of books," Morgana said simply, and he somehow knew that she was mimicking him.

"Oh come on!" he groaned, throwing his head back as he did. To his surprise, she laughed lightly at his reaction. "Ahri told me that you're not like what you want people to believe. Then I get ambushed by a kid demi-god, a chaos obsessed psychopath, and a Yordle. So now I want to know why; I don't even know why I want to know it, but I want to hear why from you."

"...Ahri, hmm? The Vastayan fox? She told you that much, did she?" Morgana's brow furrowed in annoyance as she turned back around to face him, putting down the cleaning rag in her hands onto the counter with a wet smack. "There's no keeping secrets from her. I don't deal with liars and cheats. She should know her place better than most."

"Whatever. Just don't tell her I told you," Zac said, holding out his empty cup for a refill.

"Now, now. That's not very gentlemanly, throwing her under a cart like that."

"Yeah, well, she hasn't exactly been kind to me either. And you still haven't answered my question."

"Hmph." Letting out a grunt, Morgana took the empty cup from his hand and put it somewhere behind the front counter on her side. "That's enough for now. I want you to pay attention to what I'm going to tell you."

"Enough for now? What did you have me drink anyway?" Zac asked, remembering the smooth but chalky flavor of the pitch-black brew he had consumed without question.

"You drank two cups of it and you're asking me that now?"

"I didn't want to be rude. But since I'm here for answers, I figured you wouldn't mind if I threw in one more."

"Didn't want to be rude?" Morgana repeated in a mocking tone. When he silently glowered at her in return, she straightened her poise back up to her normal form. "Apologies. It's a special blend; a potion of power that lets people draw from the latent magic of the world easier. Some would dare to call it an elixir of immortality, since many creatures draw strength from magic to live long lives. Or for the more cynical, you can call it a tonic of madness, since I can't guarantee that everyone who drinks it can...handle it's effects."

Zac felt his jaw run slack at the information revealed to him, and after a few seconds of silence began to repeatedly and loudly lick the inside of his mouth.

"...Was any of that true?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," he watched the fallen Aspect of Justice purse her lip into a wicked smile. "Do you feel any different?"

"I'm not going to say no to having superpowers… Or, more superpowers maybe," Zac said, raising both of his large hands and looking into them when he flexed them open and closed. He then turned to look around at the rest of the inside of the bakery trying to see if anything was different from before. "But…?"

"But, what?"

"What's the catch?"

"I need a favor—"

"If I do it, can I get more superpowers?" Zac interrupted.

"No," Morgana said, shooting him down immediately. "Stop playing around and listen to me. I need help from a real hero. There's a problem I can't solve on my own, and need someone with your youthful courage and optimism to go out into the big bad world and save a lot of people."

"When you say it like that, it would be pretty cowardly of me to refuse." Zac reached out and without asking helped himself to a frosted pastry under a glass dome on the front counter. "But we're going in circles. But like I said before..."

"But what," Morgana said again, but not as a question this time.

"What's the catch?"

Morgana turned around, going over to a nearby magical stovetop behind her and starting to set things up for something. Busying herself for reasons he didn't know or understand, her next question was thrown out to him while she continued about her business.

"Tell me young man; are you happy here?"

The question came too fast for it not to have been planned. For the first time in a long time he was unsure of how to respond because the question seemed too big for him to understand. What should have been a simple question with an even simpler answer only brought up countless complications in his mind when he thought about it. Maybe that was the purpose of the question, he silently surmised, and decided to answer the uncomfortable question with a dumb one.

"What do you mean by 'here'?"

"The Institute of War, and the League of Legends." Morgana made a gesture that seemed to be pointing toward the front window of her shop, but he had no idea if it was in the right direction of the Institute of War. She continued to pace about, going through cabinets and searching through container after container for something. "You risk your life every day for causes that aren't your own, sometimes dying in the process. Is that what you came here for? Did you know that this would be your life every day?"

"Yes," Zac answered, this time without hesitation.

"If you really mean that, then you deserve more credit than I've given you." Morgana turned back around to face him. "So allow me to rephrase my question: how do you measure the work of a hero? Is it about the number of people they'll save over their lives? Or is it just a matter of principle that comes with self-sacrifice?"

"I don't know," Zac said flatly, "and maybe I'll never know until the day I die. But I don't get what this is all about. Why would you set all of this up? What do you want from me?"

"I already told you; I need you to become the hero you think you already are."

"...When people ask for favors they usually don't come in the form of backhanded comments." Zac reached out and grabbed another sugar-glazed pastry from the glass dome, eating it whole in one bite. "Or maybe you can't help it, being half the Aspect of Justice, right? It must be tough being an immortal embodiment of a lofty ideal living with us flawed mortals."

"Do. Not. Test me, young man. Believe everything you've heard, and then some." Morgana's voice changed briefly to a more hostile tone, and he watched the fallen Aspect flex her pairs of wings like she was shaking the dust out from their feathers. "I know a lot more about you than you may be comfortable admitting. I've asked you to come here because I think you can overcome your fears, and become the true hero you envision yourself to be."

"And I'm not stupid enough to think that doing your dirty work will make me a hero just because you said so." Zac changed his posture, putting one arm forward onto the counter separating them and leaning in on it to get closer to Morgana. "I've fought in the League of Legends for almost a year now. I know how those clean little snippets the Summoners write up for us about their clients never tells the whole story. Why are you any different?"

"Are you afraid of adversity?"

Changing his posture back to how he had been sitting before, he straightened his back and put both of his hands on his lap. "I used to think that I could do whatever I wanted because of my powers. I learned how my actions have consequences after the people who mattered most to me were killed for it."

"You think yourself a danger to others?"

"I'm more than a living weapon, and you're not a puppet for some metaphor obsessed aliens."

"...Fair enough," Morgana relented. For the first time the sound of silence saturated the small bakery, and even the sounds of the city outside of the brick walls surrounding the Champions present seemed to disappear. Perhaps as a small recompense for her next actions, Morgana began plating an assortment of baked goods from around the front counter as an offering to Zac.

"You can hear this from either myself or Vessaria. Make your choice."

"Vessaria," the Secret Weapon said after a minute of nothing, the name carrying a weight heavy enough that he had to force himself to say it. "As in, Vessaria Kolminye?"

"Yes." If it had been anyone else, Morgana would have seized the momentum shifting in her favor. But the look on the face of the Secret Weapon showed that she had already driven her point home, and so she nudged the plated assortment of cookies closer to him so that he understood it was for an apology.

"You could have just said that from the start."

"Would it have mattered?"

"I think you know that's a really stupid question."

"Perhaps, but you are old enough to understand that there are some things only a man like you can do for the Institute. I called you here because I wanted to break the news to you before Kolminye did. I think we have more in common than you may realize, and I wanted you to know that you have my support going forward in your—"

"Hey, bird lady!"

Without warning a golden portal began to form on the ceiling of Sinful Succulence between the two Champions. Zac watched as a small blue cat with long golden whiskers suddenly fell out from the ceiling, followed shortly by an open book that seemed to be flying on its own.

"What smells like magic? Have you been baking?" Yuumi asked, immediately starting to sniff around her surroundings. "Can I have some?"

"Yuumi, what are you—" Morgana began to ask, but was ignored.

"Oh, here we go." Zac watched as the small feline jumped down from the countertop, before returning wearing a square slice of bread around her head like a lion's mane. "This is mine now."

"Yuumi," Morgana said again in a tone that she wanted to stop interruption to their conversation. With a slender pale finger she reached out and began to scratch behind the cat's ear. "I'm very busy right now. Did you need something from me?"

"Oooh, that's the spot." The cat let out a low purr, before shaking her head rapidly. "Maybe we're just here because we feel like it. Can't we say hello?" she asked, looking up at the fallen Aspect with big adorable eyes.

"Huh. A talking cat and a magic book?" Zac blinked and shook his head. "Is she your pet or something?"

"Her pet? Nu-huh!" Yuumi turned to him and shook her head, and the Book mirrored this action. "I already have a master, but she's...gone. We're trying to find her."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," Zac said with a frown. "I hope you find her soon."

"She's probably fine. I mean, she's a really powerful enchantress and all." The Book accompanying the magical cat shook itself up and down, which he assumed was a nod of agreement. "I just hope we can meet her again soon. But at least the Institute has a lot of fish!"

"Fish?" he questioned, before the obvious dawned on him. "Oh, right. Magical cat and magical...book."

"Yep! That's us!" Yuumi smiled, and Zac noticed that Morgana had silently disappeared into her back room without so much as a word to either of them. "So, uh, what are you?"

"What am I? That's kind of rude. Shouldn't that be who?"

"Oh." Yuumi looked down at Book who seemed to be shaking itself in disapproval somehow. "I guess you're right. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, because I'm a Zaunite super hero," he said, jerking his own thumb at himself and striking a muscular pose when he spoke. He let his gelatinous muscles contract and bulge in an inflated display of might before returning to normal. "And I'm here about a job, apparently."

"A superhero? Hmm… Wait a minute, I've read stories about those!" Yuumi shouted, jumping back on top of Book and flying in a circle to inspect him closer. "But wait…don't all superheroes have a super suit? What about a cape? Do you have a secret identity!?"

"My suit is at the cleaners," Zac lied, stopping to think. "As for my secret identity… Maybe Zac isn't my real name; it's just my superhero name, and I don't normally look like this too."

"Oooh, you're one of those tricky guys, aren't you?" Yuumi's eyes narrowed in an accusatory way, though he didn't quite know what she meant. "A lot of people here can change their appearance, but they always smell the same! You can't fool my senses!"

"Well that's because you're a super cat, and a super...uh...book," Zac said. "Everyone knows only super things can beat other super things."

"You've got that right! I'm not your regular old cat!" Yuumi puffed up her chest proudly. "I'm also a fantasy school principal and official heartseeker matchmaker!"

"Huh? Oh, uh, I never would have guessed," Zac admitted. "So, since you know why I'm here, what are you two here for?"

"Us? Well, it's a super duper secret, but the bird lady's front window is great for sunbathing and people watching," Yuumi explained, pointing a paw to the spot in the front window where Morgana had spread the curtains apart. "Sometimes I like to come here and think. And sometimes I like to come here because the pantry has ra—"

"I have a name, you know," Morgana interrupted timely, returning from the deeper unknowns of Sinful Succulence. Walking back over she gently reached out and picked Yuumi up before placing her on the space reserved for her in the front window. Book followed the two, it's pages flipping on their down before closing and resting itself in the sun as well. "Now sit over here and behave. I'm in a very important talk with this young man, and I do not want any interruptions. And if you break any more of my good glassware, I'll make your master pay for it."

"I told you, that was an accident!" Yuumi whined.

"It was certainly not an accident," Morgana rebutted. "I saw you wait until I wasn't looking."

"Oh yeah? Then how did you see me do it? Huh?"

"My powers are beyond your comprehension," Morgana said simply. "You're lucky I let you come and go as you please."

"Fiiine," Yuumi whined, before stretching herself out in the sun. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very important nap to take."

Zac watched Morgana's unreadable look, before continuing from where they had left off.

"You said before that we have things in common. What did you mean?"

"Must I say it? We're both orphans, aren't we?" Morgana sighed lightly, tapping her chin in thought. "Tell me, what do you think it means to be a baker?"

"I don't know," Zac answered frankly, after thinking for a moment. The more he thought about it, sitting quietly in the cafe belonging to a fallen demi-god, he didn't understand anything. He didn't understand what she was getting at, he didn't understand why he had been told to come to where he was, and he had no clue why he had even bothered to listen to any of the other champions he had met earlier in the day. Hell, he still didn't know if he had voluntarily poisoned himself only a few minutes ago for the sake of being polite.

"It's simple; a baker is someone who is at the forefront of any civilization," Morgana said, gesturing to her store around her. "In any developed society you will always find people with a trade like the humble baker. My work is a culmination of humanity's mastery over the land, sea, and air."

Without warning, several dark chains shot out from underneath her seat and began snapping and flailing around her like wild snakes. By some degree of self-control he never knew he possessed, Zac remained in his seat without even uttering a word of surprise. Even Yuumi and Book who were sitting quietly under the sun didn't show any reaction to the sudden display of magic. He recognized the magical phenomenon as the same type of magic Morgana used in many of her spells and abilities, and after a few more seconds of wild flailing the chains settled down and began picking up the cleaning where their master had stopped.

"Hundreds of years ago, my sister and I were raised on stories about the Rune Wars from our parents. A time where the world was haunted by famine, death and destruction," Morgana continued. "In the time before my sister would become pivotal to the founding of Demacia, we were born to a mortal father and Aspect mother."

"Mortal?"

"Quite. My power was inherited from my mother; my father on the other hand was only a man."

He watched some of the chains begin to snake themselves together, and when they resembled a muscley sinew they came together to fill and place an iron teapot on one of the heating stones for their master.

"My sister will have you believe that people banded around us because we were a guiding light for them. Maybe some certainly did." He watched her eyes glaze over, the full weight of her tale resting on the surface of her mind and on the tip of her tongue. Around them both, her magic continued to work on its own, tidying up the areas around them with no visible effort of Morgana's to control it. "But in reality we took in all kinds. Justice is flexible, you see. Over time we both realized that the world was bigger than we could imagine."

"But it sounds like it all began out of good intentions," he ventured to suggest. To his surprise, she simply nodded silently in agreement.

Morgana looked outside, and he followed her gaze to the blazing sun in the sky that had reached its peak and was now descending. Then he noticed that the front sign that had caught his eye earlier had been turned around at some point, signaling to everyone walking past that the cafe was now closed.

"You overestimate them. The founders of Demacia banded together to simply become stronger. Fighting in the League for many Champions is no different. All intelligent beings know that violence can spell things out more clear than any speech or sermon. I wonder how much longer this precious League of Legends will last. How long will your city states participate in this farce before breaking down to total war?"

"Long enough that it will never happen," Zac said firmly with a strange unfounded confidence. "The way I see it; if monstrosities like Cho'gath and Fiddlesticks can be kept under control, then a bunch of violent patriotic loons from Valoran can be too."

Morgana frowned disapprovingly at him. "Violence is fueled by powerful emotions that are like raging fires or intense storms that come from the heart. This passionate madness is unrivaled in its capacity to consume and destroy. Do not be so naive as to believe that the sins of humanity can simply be collectively condensed into a single vessel."

"They're trying when no one else thought they could, and that's what matters. What would you do if the Institute just disappeared one night? Would you just go back to watching humanity from afar and skulking from the shadows?"

"I care for this world, but not for its politics. My sister fled to Mount Targon hundreds of years ago to throw away her humanity and embrace what it means to be the Aspect of Justice. Though I've roamed the lands alone, I wonder if my isolation from the world has resulted in the same."

"I don't think so. Your humanity isn't something you can throw away so easily, and that's coming from someone who was never human to begin with."

"...Then believe what you want to believe." Morgana's answer was so neutral in emotion that he couldn't help but wonder if their conversation had transformed into confession without him realizing it. "But as things are now, all I can do is sit from the sidelines and make you a cup of tea."

Like magic, he watched as she placed another steaming cup of the black brew from before in front of him on a small saucer. Unlike before though, Zac did not immediately drink it.

"There's a saying that's becoming popular with the Summoners and scholars of the Institute lately. Have you heard the phrase 'Twilight Era' being talked about?"

He stopped to look around Sinful Succulence again, before answering. "No, but Zoe mentioned it to me earlier today."

"The Twilight Era refers to the theory that humanity is on the brink of a massive reformation centered around the Institute of War," Morgana explained. "But humanity is stuck on the edge of a cliff, unwilling or unable to make the leap of faith forward into a new era."

"Even if you explain it like that, I'm not sure I understand," Zac answered earnestly. Against his better judgement, he took a small sip of the third potion provided to him. "Is this still about the job you're going to give me?"

"Yes. How long are you going to hide behind these walls? How long will you claim to be an ally of Justice while fighting battles that do not matter?" There was a subtle hint of frustration in her voice now, but it didn't seem directed at him. "No one is above consequences. If you want the world to change, you must go out and decide who and what you'll fight for."

"As long as I have the right to choose, I'll choose to do what I want for who I want. Even if I choose to do nothing."

"Threatening inaction in stubborn defiance? How naive. Some people may be fooled by your appearance, but your motives are like any other good-intentioned soul."

Morgana stood up, her magic breaking down into an inky mist and disappearing before his eyes. She took her hat from her lap and put it back on, a sign to him that their conversation was over whether he wanted it to be or not.

"Kalamanda and Freljord were just the beginning of a new age. There will be many conflicts to come, maybe even hundreds. Take my word for it; true peace in an illusion. The League is the closest thing to peace this world will ever know."

"You don't have to tell me that. It's not perfect, but if it's not broken don't fix it. People aren't perfect Morgana, but I think they're worth betting on."

To his surprise, Morgana said nothing in return. She gave him a small smile before breaking the silence.

"That's a good stance to have. Because neither of us are human, and we shouldn't try to pretend we are."

Before he could think of anything else to say in retort, the door he had entered flung itself open with enough force that it slammed loudly into the baker wall, it's hinges groaning loudly from the stressed force they were under. He watched a shadow in the shape of a hand crawl along the wall, eventually reaching the door and holding it open on its own. Looking back to Morgana, she had already started walking off to the closed off back kitchen of her bakery.

"Now finish your drink and get out," she commanded, not even sparing him a parting glance. "I have cleaning to get to."

Taking that as a cue to leave, the Secret Weapon finished the rest of his drink and got up to head out the front door that would lead back to what felt like another world. As he barely took his first step out onto the street, he felt himself getting shoved from behind before the door of the bakery slammed shut behind him. The curtains on the front door's window drew themselves closed making it impossible to see inside from the street save for the space where Yuumi and Book were still sunbathing.

He was alone, hungry, and had less answers than before.

"Don't forget these."

He turned around at the sudden sound of Morgana's voice behind him, and without warning was hit in the face with a brown paper bag. The front door had opened only a tiny crack behind him, before being slammed shut once again. Waiting for a second to make sure nothing else was going to happen, he peeled the bag from his own face before opening it and taking a look inside.

"Poro-snax?" he said to himself, taking out one of the small circular biscuits with his fingers. He looked back into the brown paper bag and counted four more beside the one he was holding. "What the heck is this for?"

"HEY YOU!"

Zac jumped again from the sudden shout directed at him, nearly dropping the biscuit in his fingers as well. Coming out of a nearby alleyway, Vi waved one of her gigantic hextech gauntlets in the air at him as she came over.

"There you are! Cupcake has questions, and I've been looking all over the damn—" Vi stopped herself in front of him, plucking the brown biscuit from his fingers with her own. "Wait, is this a poro-snax? Is this where the League gets these things?"

"Yeah, I guess so," was all Zac could think to say back. He glanced over his shoulder at Sinful Succulence one last time, half expecting Morgana to be peering at them from the front window with a moody and sullen look on her face.

"That's good! Just in time then!" Vi said, laughing as she slapped him on the back hard, nearly knocking him over as she did. "We'll need those on the Howling Abyss. I like feeding those cute little fur balls."

"Huh?" Zac felt his jaw run slack again.

"Yeah, we gotta' go fight in a match. Something between Ashe and Sejuani." Vi shrugged apathetically. "I don't know why, but they choose us. I was in the middle of an investigation with Cupcake, you know? But that's how it is! The Summoners organizing the whole thing asked me to come get you, since I saw you earlier."

The sun above continued to beat down on his head mercilessly with its searing rays, which would be in stark contrast to the goo-freezing gale-force winds that blew around the historic bridge in Freljord now commonly known as the Howling Abyss. Zac groaned, feeling the weight of reality start to press down on his shoulders. Secretly he resisted the urge to ditch Vi and make a break for the nearest sewer drain to slide into it and away from all of his problems. Nothing good ever came from fighting on the god-forsaken bridge in the middle of Freljord, where there was barely any room to dodge your enemy's attacks, never mind your own allies.

Looking down the street from where he had come, the expansive domes of the Institute of War could be clearly seen in the horizon. They stood above even the highest buildings in the city surrounding the Institute, forever shadowing the city as a constant reminder of its authority across the entire continent. He didn't even know what he had to return for, other than the fact that there were going to be five others prepared to fight to the death against him.

But did it really matter? Hadn't one of the first things he had been forced to learn was that not every fight would be one for peace, truth, or justice? Hadn't he known that even before he had stepped through the Reflect Chamber and been judged by the League?

Zac was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Vi asked him a question.

"Before we go, what's it like in there?" she asked him, elbowing him where his ribs would be if he had any bones. "Can that crazy old Aspect do anything other than burn stuff? I'd check it out myself, but Caitlyn's crazy defensive about her baking. If she found out I was cheating on her, she'd probably kill me."

"I got something," Zac said, remembering the nasty looking substance Morgana had served him. Although the taste hadn't been revolting or too disgusting, going down his gullet the black wash had the texture of a slime even slicker than his own. "I drank something that felt like molten tar if that counts."

"Why would you do that?"

He didn't really have an answer to that still. "It just seemed like the polite thing to do."

To his surprise Vi nodded. "Yeah, I don't blame you. You don't want to go ticking off those Targonian Aspects. You might get abducted by space aliens in the night if you piss them off."

"What? Space aliens?" Zac questioned doubtfully.

"What else would you call them?" Vi shrugged, laughing his doubts off. "But who cares about that? You and me? We've gotta go punch some people! For the greater good!"

"Please don't say it like that," Zac said, rolling his eyes and beginning to follow behind her when she started to head back toward the Institute of War.

"Don't complicate the message, kiddo." Vi tapped her forehead with her gigantic gauntlets. "You know what they say, right? If you're good at something, don't do it for free."

Unbeknownst to the Secret Weapon dutifully returning to the Institute, another meeting was set to take place from where he had left.

Satisfied that enough time had passed, Morgana fully closed the curtains to her bakery's front window, as well as the ones behind the front door. With a single finger she tapped on the magic sentient book's cover, before scooping Yuumi up who was still sleeping and radiating the heat from the sun. Making a shooing motion with her hands, Book silently generated a portal before sinking into it, and flying away with its dozing partner to places unknown.

Waiting until the portal was completely closed, she then turned to an empty seat in the far corner of her bakery.

"So? What did you think?"

"You want to turn him into your hero?" asked a voice that had been hiding the entire time. "I've seen worse, but…"

"Oh, now don't you start too."

In the far corner of Sinful Succulence the light around the empty chair began to warp, and Evelynn the demon of agony revealed herself in the acidic black mist.

"He's such a miserable thing. All that power and he's afraid to use it." Evelynn sighed, crossing her legs back over one another. She moved to rest her head in the palm of her hand, looking at the door where Zac had just left. "He's just the way like them. Big and stupid."

"There are some things only a woman can bring out in a beast. When we pair the two of them together, they'll turn into exactly what we need."

"Do you think she can do it? Won't their doubts play off each other?" For anyone else the words spoken would have seemed like concern, but Morgana knew otherwise. "She's such a slut for human sympathy. I can't stand it."

"You two are closer than you think," Morgana said, ignoring the indignant look she was getting in return. "She hurts people out of love too."

"Hate and love are just two words for passion," Evelynn explained simply. "It's her empathy that makes me sick. Why she cares about every Tom, Dick, and Harry she's eaten over the years makes no sense to me."

"You should be thankful for it. Her empathy makes her easier to control." She received no argument in response. "I won't pretend to understand you, but I know you can appreciate quality. What better flavors to savor than the sorrows of a true hero?"

The look in Evelynn's eyes said that she wanted to hear more, and so Morgana continued.

"I imagine if you will; a budding youth seasoned with the cruelty and kindness of strangers. Every experience leaves a mark on their character which grows bigger with every struggle. You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you? But have you ever tasted it? The soul of someone who has risen above the trivial falsehoods of our world? Imagine their pain when that same world repeatedly rejects their savior and casts him down low."

By the time she had finished Evelynn was smiling so hard that her fangs were showing.

"The moment they think they have the world in their hands…" she whispered. For a moment a forlorn hunger radiated from her eyes, before being replaced by her normal predatory state. "You're such a tease. How could I say no to that?"

"I knew you would love it. Can I count you in?"

"Of course, darling. We must work to turn his frown upside down. The higher the rise, the farther they fall."

"...Why?"

The simple question came from a raspy voice obscured by the ceiling above them both. Slowly and deliberately one of the ceiling tiles near where the demon of agony had been sitting slid over, and four glowing red eyes stared at them both from the darkness. The fallen Aspect chewed over the single word question for a bit, and Evelynn rolled her eyes at the obstinate interruption.

"My reasons are my own," Morgana said flatly. "Now get down from there and join us. You're supposed to be a hunter, not a scavenger lurking the dark."

After a moment and a large amount of scratching coming from the darkness, the ceiling tile set ajar was fully removed. What followed was a single length of web rope unfurling to the floor, and Elise the Spider Queen sliding down elegantly in her human form to join them.

"...You're here alone?" Morgana asked, as Elise took a seat on an empty stool closest to her.

"I am a humble servant of Lord Vilemaw, nothing more, nothing less," Elise said with a fanged smile. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Morgana said, slapping a hand down firmly on her countertop. "Maybe someone who has a vested interest in making sure all of her hundred-year plans stay—"

"The Matron was occupied this afternoon," Elise interrupted simply. It was an explanation and not an apology. "I hope you can understand how busy—"

"LeBlanc? Busy? Hah! She's probably just afraid of you," Evelynn interrupted, getting a glare from Elise who only glanced at her over her shoulder. "I can't say that I blame her. Really sugar, sometimes I wonder if your offer is too good to be true."

Morgana grunted with a frown. "No good deed goes unpunished, is that it?"

"Hardly," Evelynn scoffed as Elise silently stole a pastry from under a glass container next to her seat. "You know the rules of nature, dear. Every predator for themselves, and when someone comes to you with an offer to share…"

"It's usually a trap," Elise finished, speaking through a mouthful of scone.

"Share? No; I am not your hostess, and this is not an invitation to dine together," Morgana said, her voice taking a stern tone.

Turning to look out the front window of her establishment, both Evelynn and Elise could tell that Morgana was looking far past the streets outside.

"This world was almost brought to ruin by the logic of men. Now we are on the precipice of a new future, don't you find it strange to be constrained by our lesser halves who can only take lives? I believe we can all agree that we all deserve happiness, and to ensure that we must be prepared to make the necessary sacrifices."

Now standing very sternly with her hands folded against each other over her lap, she looked to her two cohorts whose expressions had not changed from their typical state.

"I've asked for your cooperation to right a wrong that affects us all. Nothing less, nothing more. With that being said, I hope I can trust you to support our new hero and our adorable junior."

---

"Have you found anything?"

Talon opened another drawer, pushing aside the contents inside and looking around for anything underneath hidden. Turning up nothing for the untold time, he closed the drawer and opened the next one beneath it.

"No."

"Then keep searching," Katarina commanded, casually turning the page of the book in her hands. She then kicked her legs up, and spread herself out over a lush sofa in the room.

Talon grumbled an obscenity under his breath, making sure it was just loud enough for Katarina to know he had said it. But the elder Du Couteau sister remained seated, wearing an uncaring expression as she casually continued reading the book she had picked out from a shelf.

As a tool in the vast arsenal of General Du Couteau, his fate had been left undecided with the precarious political position the family found itself in with the rise of Jericho Swain to the position of Grand General. He had been trained with enough wits to know that the Du Couteau family (along with other noble houses) had been in the sights of the master tactician as a political scapegoat for the mediocre campaign in Ionia. It was impossible to tell in such times whether or not the hostilities would extend outward toward the servants of the family as well.

But then a year later, without warning he was informed that he had been selected by the reformed High Command to join the Champions representing Noxus on the Fields of Justice. From the pawn of one general to another, he found himself plucked out of the bleak limbo of Noxian politics and into an entirely different world.

A strange world. A world where the people he killed never really died, and he in turn couldn't be killed by them. A world where he was told ahead of time what every fight was for. A world where there were different opponents every single time, whose own fighting styles were as wild as his imagination. A world where the people above him knew everything about him; far more than he ever would have been comfortable with years before.

Maybe his new position was a sign of sorts. A message intended for both Katarina and Cassiopeia, that Swain wanted to bury the unspoken hatchet between them and focus on the success of Noxus in the League. Or maybe it was an unspoken agreement that if they cooperated with him when fighting in the League, he would not go through with whatever vengeful whisperings their rivals had in store.

Or maybe it was just easier to keep track of them if they were all in one place.

"What am I looking for?" Talon felt the need to ask again, after the search through another drawer filled with junk turned up nothing of value. He was used to having to take the occasional odd job, but acting like a petty thief was by far the lowest thing he had been tasked with.

"Information," Katarina answered, still clutching the small book in her hands possessively.

"What kind?"

"Anything useful," Katarina answered again, just as specific as the first time. "Keep on it."

Hiding a sneering grin behind the book in her hands, she could practically feel Talon's blood boiling under the surface of his skin as he turned back around and continued searching. It was always fun teasing the street rat who she had first been introduced to by the end of his blade. What had been a tense relationship had devolved into her now owning a quiet, mumbling, grumbling, angry little brother whose nose she could rub in the dirt. Maybe it was to just spite Cassiopeia, who clung to their bloodline too tightly as a measurement of self-worth, but there was something nice about having someone in the house who could appreciate her lethal talents.

And someone who she could use as a punching bag whenever she felt like it.

It was funny to think that the words of her father about the gutter rat rung true even to today. Her old man had forced perspective into Talon's mind with the threat of death, and he had passed the lesson down to her in turn. Pushed to the brink, they had taught each other what it meant to use people and be used in turn.

Thinking about it, maybe Swain had been forced to do the same since becoming a Champion too.

"I've found something."

Distracted by the touch of nostalgia, Katarina shook herself out of it. "Show it to me," she ordered.

She watched Talon pull a folded piece of paper out from a long striped sock, of all the things. Odd, considering she didn't even know whether or not the owner was capable of wearing clothing with such a fluid body.

"What is it?" Katarina asked. Slowly he peeled whatever was in his hands apart, displaying how many times it had been folded over and over into a much more discrete size and shape. After what felt like a small eternity, Talon finished and spread the paper out onto the table in front of her.

"...A map?"

"Looks like it," he commented, hovering over the table and scanning it with his eyes. Pulling back the hood of his cowl, he pointed to several points on the map that had been circled. "It looks like some part of Valoran."

"No, it's a map of the Institute," Katarina breathed, slowly taking the realization in. She remained silent, eyes narrowed to meager slits scanning over the map carefully. Talon could see how hard she was thinking from her facial expressions alone, and he imagined maybe a hundred thoughts were passing through her mind all at once despite her silence.

But suddenly without another word spoken, she went back to relaxing and spread herself over the sofa as she had been before.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Talon raised an eyebrow, trying to translate the mixed signals she was sending him. There was something she could clearly see that he hadn't noticed. Maybe something that came from being in the loop of the High Command, and it didn't look like she was going to enlighten him any time soon. As much as he hated to admit it, after everything that had happened involving the Du Couteau estate, Katarina was still his superior in many ways. General Du Couteau may have been the only man alive to earn his respect, but his elder daughter was starting to eclipse his image faster than the old man would have even been comfortable admitting.

When she had approached him early in the day, she had only said that she needed his help with something. Granted, that alone was more information than he was used to getting when it came to his line of work. Assassins and spies knew better than to ask questions, since results were all that mattered. But when she had revealed to him that her plan was to break into the living quarters of another Champion in the Institute, that was when he knew something had changed. Something big.

Something worth his time, for once.

Or so he had thought.

One of the first things he had been forced to learn when becoming a Champion, was the raw volume of rules and regulations the Institute of War maintained. There were strict regulations for the apartments Champions resided in, and even their behavior for entering in the surrounding city. These layers and layers of rules were all laid out in advance, all to protect the integrity of the League from every city-state's subtle or unsubtle attempts at sabotaging each other to get better results out of fights. The Institute of War was a fortress rivaling any other in the world, and the residences of its Champions were just the tip of an iceberg.

Summoners in the Institute had to have identifying papers kept on their persons at all times, and Summoners representing specific city-states were forbidden from interacting with Champions outside of controlling them on a Field of Justice. Random memory checks and scans were common, to keep track of the activities of Summoners who came and went from the Institute back to their homes. If those weren't enough, the hextech security devices and magic spells lacing every square inch of the Institute prevented any breaches of security from ever happening.

Everyone knew that breaking the rules came with punishments ranging from exotic to downright cruel. All Champions were not exempt from these rules, no matter their standing in their home city-states.

So what did a green jelly-man who never interacted with anyone or showed any signs of caring for anything have that was worth getting caught for?

"What are we really here for? What—" he began, but was quickly cut off with a quick hand gesture. A tight open palm directed at him, the universal sign for him to shut up. Katarina shot him a sharp look as well, but he ignored it by focusing his attention elsewhere.

Something was coming down the hall toward the room they were in. Two things.

A wet slapping sound set to the pace of an even walk.

And a loud clopping, the sound of someone walking in heavy boots matching the pace of the former.

"Shit," Talon cursed audibly. Around him he knew that the room was still in disarray, and the signs that someone had been in it were too many to clean up in haste. If they fled quickly enough, it was possible that they would never be identified as the culprits. On the other hand, if word got out that the absolute defenses of the Institute had been broken, it would be a living hell in the future with what new rules the Institute would put in place. On top of that—

"Talon, listen to me. Calm down," Katarina ordered, as cool as she had been ever since they bypassed the lethal security runes around the apartment. "Stay put, and look respectable. Don't do anything foolish."

Only fools hesitate.

Of all the quips and proverbs he heard Katarina spout from time to time, it was no coincidence that the most apropos one to his situation came to mind first. Maybe he had gotten rusty, being used to fighting the same opponents over and over again in a never-changing world. Thinking about it, he had almost caved in to the pressure of his assignment for the first time in a very, very long time. It was shameful to think about, and was made worse by the fact that he had done so right in front of his superior.

Something that Katarina would no doubt rub his nose in after the moment was done.

Assuming they both lived that long.

He could hear their voices growing louder. Two people approaching them at their own pace, unaware of who and what was waiting in store for them. It was a strange twist to fate, Talon then realized that he had gotten ahead of his target in the most fortified city in the world, only for his mission to have no killing involved.

"I don't think they're happy with us, you know that right?"

"They never said it was against the rules! I mean, come on! She deserved it! Admit it!"

Zac loudly groaned for what had to have been the tenth time on the same day. The fight over the Howling Abyss had gone over well, all things considered. If you considered being frozen like a popsicle from an enchanted bolas, and getting clawed to death by an armored Ursine part of your routine. To top it off, the results of the match were being reviewed by Institute officials over calls of misconduct by Champions on both sides.

How was he supposed to know that drop-kicking Sejuani off of Bristle before tossing her off the side of the bridge wasn't allowed in a fight to the death?

...Or maybe it was that he had inspired Vi to do the exact same thing, mirroring him perfectly, when Sejuani rejoined the fight a minute later.

It was pretty funny, in a terribly morbid way. He shivered a little at the guilty pleasure running through him over thinking about it. He could never admit it of course, but the deed had been done with a disgusting sense of accomplishment. Sejuani cursing and threatening him before he threw her over into the abyss only added to his morally ambiguous mirth.

"That's not the point, I think. I kno—" Zac began, but then stopped.

His bedroom door was open. It was a clear view from the hall that led from the entrance foyer, and he almost did a double-take from not noticing earlier. Not only that, but the magic lighting was on as well. Someone or something was in his house! Or had been, and had done a sloppy job of cleaning up after them.

"What? Did you leave the lights on or something?" Vi said, looking up ahead of them. "I do it all the time. No biggie."

He couldn't help but look at her like she was daft that time. It was no secret to anyone that the apartments of every Champion in the Institute lived on-premise in small fortresses unto themselves. The countless layers of magic seals and runes inscribed into the very foundation of the building meant that it would be a monumental task to break in and out of one. It would be less time consuming for someone or some group to completely destroy the building and sift through the ruins if they had wanted something inside. And even then, it was no guarantee that the seals and runes leftover wouldn't fry you like an egg by just coming close.

Allowing visitors in was a chore unto itself. The proper authorities had to be told that you would be having someone over, then they would have to check for approval from some other group so that person would be allowed to stay with you, even if it was for only a minute. It had taken nearly half an hour to get approval for Vi to come over to his apartment, all to just have a conversation that they could have had outside without any hassle.

Not wasting another second, Zac put a finger up over his lips and prayed that Vi would understand.

Mercifully the pink-haired enforcer got his meaning, and stayed silent following close behind him.

He tried stepping lightly at first, but it was hard to ignore the loud and wet slopping sound of his own feet every step he took. A painful reminder that stealth was not his forte. He would probably have a better chance sneaking up on anyone if he crawled like a living puddle across the ground, and what remained of his pride wouldn't have him doing it any time soon.

You know what? Forget it, Zac thought to himself.

Giving up all pretenses of stealth, he just marched straight up to the door. But standing right outside its open frame, it suddenly closed without warning, slamming shut with a loud clap. When nothing happened after waiting a few seconds, he knew what he had to do.

Someone has a nasty sense of humor.

Lifting a hand and slapping it against the door's frame, it made a loud enough noise suitable to pass as a knock.

"...Can I come in?" he asked through the door, trying to ignore the indignity of playing along with his mystery guest's fun.

"It's open. Come in," came a disgusting casual answer from someone familiar on the other side.

Looking at Vi who just shrugged at him, Zac opened the door and stepped inside to his own bedroom.

Sitting as if she had just ordered a cup of coffee, Katarina sat on one of the large plush sofas he never had guests for in his room. Standing next to her was Talon, who appeared to be trying to hide his discomfort at being confronted by two other Champions. It was hard to tell with people like him who never showed any emotion even when they were pleased with themselves. But when contrasted to the Sinister Blade sitting idly by, the difference was highlighted much brighter.

He wanted to ask a question. A simple one. But since it probably would have come out sounding really dumb, he was glad that Katarina spoke first.

"Welcome back," she started, doing the best not to smirk. "Come in an—"

"HEY!" Vi shouted, interrupting her and shoving her way past Zac and in through the door. She then pointed her gigantic steel fists at both intruders. "Wait a damn minute! This is breaking and entering! You're both under arrest!"

"This isn't Piltover you idiot," Katarina gave Vi a flat stare. "You're not in charge of anything here."

"That hasn't stopped me before!" Vi shouted back, undeterred. "Now come quietly! And don't make me use lethal force!"

"What a pain," Talon muttered, standing up. He pushed his cloak aside, the inside being covered with the throwing daggers he used in his signature Rake technique. He then switched his own stance so that they could be thrown out without a moment's hesitation. "A weakling like you isn't even a challenge."

"So, you want to do this the hard way, eh?" Vi asked, holding up her own steel fist threateningly in response. "Fine by m—"

"Hold it!"

Both Vi and Talon stopped, and turned to Katarina who was still sitting calmly despite her sudden outburst. Everyone in the room turned to her after the sudden interruption, waiting for what she would say next.

"Can't you two do this another time?"

Talon and Vi looked at each other, before looking back to Katarina. Talon simply scowled, while Vi shook her head rapidly from side to side as her answer. Katarina looked back at them both, and groaned in exasperation. Finally after a moment, she caved in and sighed.

"Fine. But no weapons, okay?"

Talon and Vi exchanged glances, in what Zac could only think of some sort of silent agreement to her conditions. In a single swift movement, Talon removed his cloak and began working to take his signature bladed arm guards off of himself. Still standing next to Zac, Vi dropped her two hextech fists to the ground, letting them fall with a loud thud from their own weight.

"I know about you," Vi cracked her knuckles on one hand before doing it to the other. "They say you're one of Noxus' best assassins, right? Well I bet you're not so tough in a straight fight."

"And you're the cop who can't catch a screaming, hyperactive child," Talon retorted, and Zac watched Vi's expression drop. "Pathetic."

As far as Zac heard, Vi never even said a word.

It took her less than half a second to clear the distance between them, and tackle Talon to the ground. Talon to his credit reacted immediately, kicking his attacker in the gut and throwing her off of him. But Vi was more stubborn than he had given her credit, and the two rolled away, locked punching, kicking, and yelling into another room. All the while turning over and breaking things as they went.

"Where were we? Ah, yes. Welcome back," said the crimson assassin smoothly to the bio-weapon still standing in the doorway. Behind her the fighting between Talon and Vi continued uninterrupted, the curses and shouts of both Champions echoing loud enough for anyone to hear outside of the apartment. Something loud and fragile sounding shattered, but was drowned out by the sound of something tougher breaking right after. "Come in and close the door. We need to talk."

Zac continued to stare in disbelief, his jaw hanging slightly ajar under him. Talon and Vi were somewhere still in the mists of their fight, with both Champions going from one adjacent room to another grappling and throwing punches back and forth. From a room away he could hear very violent sounds, as well as more of his possessions being destroyed wherever they went.

Still in front of him, the red-haired instigator of everything remained seated just as calmly as she had probably been before he returned. Even with what was happening, she wore an expression of utter uncaring as if she were relaxing outside and watching the sunset in peace.

Looking at his unflattering expression, Katarina laughed lightly.

"Happy one year anniversary, by the way."

---

Author's Note 05/14/2020: the third chapter has been updated, and I believe an equal amount of content was removed and new content added. It's always interesting looking back on your old work and realize how much of a first draft everything is.