—this one's for you, Goshawk. Thanks for sticking with it
-Cat
What happens when they win the game?
It was a question that Caitlyn had asked him only once, and dared not ask again. None of them knew the answer, those of them that had been created within the game, by the game, for the game. And the goddesses dare not say.
Yet it was a question that plagued his mind days in and out, as they tried and failed and played again and again. Since the insurgence of the final boss, the horseman had witnessed more than one program, one corrupted code, as it came to existence. He had rebuked many even within the track he called his home. And so, when new code was injected, it hardly stopped his charge.
Hecarim ran when he was upset. He ran when he was happy. He ran to avoid thinking, or to think. He ran to focus or forget. And sometimes, he simply ran.
It was this time, however, that he slowed and stopped.
She was unlike the code Veigar had previously tried to plague his home world with, and she was unlike anything within that same world where she stood. She, in truth was unlike anything at all, across the many levels he had seen. She had her back to him, and was there, though not entirely. Her wire mesh is turquoise, flickering with the many lights that surrounded his running track, though changing color only slightly, and her body was perplexing. It was similar, yet different, than those he was accustomed to. Where Caitlyn and Fortune, and Sona even still resembled human, this woman did not. She resembled robot more than living thing; for her joints were made of shimmering metal, and her armor- gear was not of fabric like the others. She was more akin to him; with thinner joints and finer pieces.
New.
He approached her, silently, and even from his view of the back of her head, he saw the corner of her mouth turn upward.
'Are you sentient?' She asked, her voice a smooth, metallic whir. He nodded, for he had no voice. He was the first player. The tester. The one unfinished program. She cocked her head to the side, it's mesh flowing smoothly as she moved, and screens appeared around her. Her fingers, long and deft, typed and tapped with precision, and he watched. And then his ears exploded with pops and splats and sound effects, and she lifted her hands to his face as he craned and turned his neck around.
'Slow down, slow down!' She laughed, and instead he focused on her. 'Too many thoughts and questions, I cannot answer them so fast.' She smiled, and there was only one.
A rounded- edge text box, cream in color, with black lettering.
'Beautiful.'
She bay her eyelashes, and smiled softly at him as she touched his helm, ran her fingers through his neon- colored mane.
'Thank you.' She whispered, sitting back upon the ground before him. Another pop, and she read it as he lied beside her. 'A Trojan horse.' She answered softly, and he tilted his head to the side.
'Nay, I am the horse.' His text box read. She laughed then, and sighed softly.
'Let me rephrase then.' She raised a hand, snapped, and turned the screen toward him. 'A virus. I appear when something is broken and allows me access. Infiltrate, learn… destroy.' She slowed at the last word, and he looked down to his right foreleg.
He had broken pieces from it in Caitlyn's last attempt through her level. Had missed one fateful jump and felt the wings upon his side snap and fall. He was her broken piece, her way in. He had trapped her in their tormenting game, their horrid world.
Her mesh rose.
'I am not trapped.' He leaned forward slightly, and she smiled. 'I go where I desire. Sometimes, where I am needed.' Her hand test against his side, and she scrolled through the code to her left, before typing quickly on a blank screen to her right. She stretched her hand outward, and new armor appeared, building, as though it were printing itself. Her touch was soft as she removed the broken piece, brushing the tips of her fingers across frayed wiring, watching as it slowly, slowly, began to mend. And then she moved the new piece in place, securing it. 'Comfortable?' She asked with her eyes, and he nodded once. 'Is that the only thing damaged?'
He wanted to say yes, that it had only been his Pauldron. But the horseman knew better. A virus that could create his parts on a whim, that read a train of one's and zeros that even the players in his game could nigh but understand would surely know the many dents and severs present. He bent his knees, laying down beside her with a thud and crossed his metal arms upon an outstretched leg. She crawled closer, settled against his wither, and her screens turned his silver hide a sickly green with glow.
Sometimes she left, went elsewhere where she was needed.
Yet after the first time, Hecarim knew she would return. Occasionally it was to rest, to lay her slight frame across his back as his breath lulled her to sleep. But after many of her visits, he was stronger, faster, newer, than before.
He kept hold of one of her knees as he charged around the track, wind whipping through his hair whilst he charged, her curves pressed firmly into him and her arms secured around his chest. He slowed, changing gait unto a walk, before swiveling to look to her. And then he asked her.
What happens when they win the game?
She thought, and read, and scrolled, and thought, and when she finally answered him, he knew. She did not know.
'But.' She continued, as he struck the ground in frustration. 'I have yet to play the game.'
And so he carried her. From the first level, to the third, to the eighth, past any he had played before. Over the mountains craving to be climbed, past barrels set to explode upon them. Past traps and monsters of every design. And through each, she gathered code. She read, and asked, and fought beside him every step of the way. And still they journeyed on.
And finally, at the cusp of the summit, Veigar stood, hardly taller than his knee. The sky crackled, and thunder rose and fell, lightning struck the earth.
'Third party software! Third party software!
Cheater!
Cheater!
Cheater!'
And the world faded black.
