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Chapter 39
Law and Disorder
A sheriff and vigilante walk side by side, their formal attires torn and frayed after an onerous battle. Behind them smokes the remains of the Arvino Railway Express, the cars crushed together from the forceful impact after an abrupt stop.
"It's nothing short of a miracle, but everyone aboard is alive…albeit some a little more than others," Caitlyn watches as additional medical staff rush to the scene behind them.
"That's good to hear," the mercenary-knight holds his side, walking largely unfazed. A telling red begins to soak through the white of his tuxedo from the wound where Slater's bullet had clipped him.
Caitlyn holds her head, finding herself still slightly disoriented from the collision. "Yes, but I doubt any of them will ever be taking the train again, once it's repaired…"
"I think all of Piltover should tone down the technological advancements for a time. This isn't the same city I visited years back. This place has always held many secrets, and all of them in the hands of the wealthy, but this…," looking at the devastation and faces of bemused, scared people all around them. "This is anything but progress."
Guilt sinks into the sheriff's heart. She is used to grim crime scenes and the chaos of the Fields of Justice, but not the utter ravaging of her home and the people she swore to protect and serve. For all of her years of experience and renown, she should have been able to see this coming. She should have been able to put a stop to it, long before any of this could come to fruition. However, Ephrial's assertion is correct—there is an imbalance of power, and much like the other city-states of Runeterra, the dividing factor is wealth. The scopes of her rifle and intuition stretch far, but the trigger is bound by law, and the law, in turn, is bound by those who fill its pockets.
Amidst the clamor and commotion, they hear familiar voices begin to rise above the crowd. The two turn towards the source, spotting the rest of their split group pushing toward them.
"Ephrial!" Riven's tall heels click loudly against the smooth stonework of Inventor's Square.
"You made it!" Vi stops in front of them. "I—…Whoa, what the heck happened here!?" leaning to the side to observe the disarray and demolished train behind them.
"Things…got a little off track," a mercenary's dry humor greets them. "Glad to see you all in one piece."
"You're bleeding again," the Exile ignores the nonchalant wordplay and takes a step toward him.
"I'll live to bleed another day. Have you found Sophia?"
"No sign of her yet. We've only just arrived on the scene. The city is in shambles…I can't even begin to describe it," Vi's tone betrays a hint of melancholy behind her usual demeanor.
"Well, I HAD some pictures until SOMEBODY totally destroyed my shots!" Jinx pops her head behind the law enforcer's shoulder.
A quick glare from the corner of a tattooed cheek sends her back into Vi's shade.
"We're already in overtime," Ephrial's calm, yet firm fervor pulls the group's attention. "Finding Sophia and a way to shut these drones down are our priorities. Any ideas?" turning to the two experts on Piltover.
"Decommissioning each unit simultaneously ain't gonna be a piece of cake…but it's possible," Vi speaks. "I should know…. I helped build them."
Only Riven seems the least bit surprised. Caitlyn is privy to her involvements as her partner, and Jinx, being Vi's "biggest fan," follows her at a distance. The mercenary-knight had long picked up on the hint from the altered police motto scrawled on the prototype mech back at the delivery depot.
"What do we need to do?"
"Whoever took over all those drones had to have messed with the main control system. Hacking something like that had to have taken some serious hextech. If we're to override the system again and shut the whole thing off, we'll need to track down the console and seize control of the COP system again."
"In other words, we need to find the person responsible for this. It's your time to shine, Jinx," Ephrial turns to the sparkling menace. "Who is it that would be one step ahead of you in order to have you both take the blame and get caught…yet be panicked enough to seemingly undo all the effort in framing you by attacking us out in the open. An outright assault on the entire city-state could have been set in place weeks ago. Why now?"
A smile carves its way on the Loose Cannon's face with every inquiry laid out by the mercenary-knight. "You're asking all the right questions, Torchy…but you're still missing out on the most important question of them all!"
"Who would stand to gain the most from all of this," Caitlyn brings a hand to her chin in deductive reasoning.
"Ugh, typical and boring just like your taste in hats!" Jinx scoffs.
"All right, this has gone too far!" Vi grabs her by the collar. "Out with it! Who set you up?!" a fist begins to wind, the gauntlet building a charge.
Knowing she still holds the cards, the pale Zaunite maintains a vexingly taunting grin. "All I'm gonna say right now is…you don't have to look too far."
"You're going to have to do a lot better than that!"
"Wait," Ephrial stays a giant fist. "If you're not going to tell us who, then tell us how to find them."
"Hmm…I suppose that wouldn't spoil all the fun. Then again, that's not a question for me, is it, Fathands?" turning her head back to the Enforcer.
Hotheaded steam reluctantly dissolves with guilt, and her metal hands unclench, letting Jinx down. The two stare, eye-to-eye for a moment, and the others watch in silence as a convoluted history and sense of responsibility electrocute the air between them. If there's one thing Jinx loves more than blowing people up, it's making them explode from the inside. The prime victim of her dangerous games has, without a doubt, always been Vi. Unfortunately for the latter, this whole situation has only given the twin-tailed menace an even bigger button to push on the criminal-turned-officer.
"…Whoever sent those things rampant has to be carrying some sort of device on them to keep from becoming a target themselves."
"You mean those machines will otherwise attack indiscriminately?" Ephrial raises an eyebrow, already contemplating the thought process behind such a factor.
"We were designing a police force that would enact justice on perpetrators without bias or favor, regardless of status. A system that would not be easily corrupted by bribes, finally settling the scores on politics. No coercion. No hesitation. Just blind justice. In the end, we just wound up stripping all the traits of a good officer—no…a good person, and made nothing short of killing machines that were inevitably bound to be set loose from thin leash."
"Vi…" a sympathetic Caitlyn somberly voices.
"…The device we're looking for will be emitting a powerful frequency that can only be detected by hextech similar to the transmitter responsible for the signal output. We'll have to get our hands on a techmaturgical sensor."
"…That sounds familiar. I believe they were mentioned in one of the Institute's infamous journals. Heimerdinger had pinned these 'Piltovan Techmaturgical Sensors' as the cause for the explosion of his D.O.O.M experiment in Demacia."
"That's right," Caitlyn confirms. "If memory serves, all such sensors were sent back to the Academy for revision and recommission."
"With any luck, Heimerdinger may have one lying around somewhere," Vi, with a recomposing tone.
"Even if we do come into possession of one of these devices, how are we supposed to locate our suspect in all of this?" Piltover's Sheriff inquires.
The group pauses in contemplation, each questioning the effectiveness of a manhunt in a race against time. Every tick of the clock is crucial, and the City of Progress only has so long before there is nothing left to save.
"…What if we use the devices for the same accidental purpose of which they were recalled?" the mercenary-knight begins a divergent course of thought.
"What manner of unorthodox idea are you concocting this time?"
"I know not of this techmaturgy in the degree that you do. However…if I am understanding this correctly, these techmaturgical sensors have some form of interaction with devices of other hextech design, right?"
"In the simplest way of saying it, you're not wrong," Vi says dryly.
"What if we make that same reaction as in Demacia, but on a grand enough scale to effect the entirety of COPS?"
"You mean force them all to just self-destruct!? That's not exactly how it works…" the enforcer reacts obliquely. "…But with the right materials…" putting more thought into the rudimentary ideas behind the technology. "Basically, we could cause some sort of explosion that would disrupt the signal instead of trace it? They won't all blow up, but they sure won't be in working condition. That's…actually pretty intuitive thinking."
"Yet, is it possible?"
"…Yeah. You're pretty much talking about causing an electromaturgic pulse, or EMP for short. On the scope you're thinking of, it would fry most hextech in the immediate area."
"What would we need to make it happen?"
"To start, we'd need some sort of electric generator. Then we'd have to hit it hard and fast with an overcharge in order to create a pulse of electromatugical disturbance."
"How big of a generator are we talking?"
"Big. It will have to be set off in the center of the city in order to effectively cover the entire perimeter."
"A blast of colliding technology in the heart of Piltover…" Ephrial turns his head off to the side, looking up at the towering Yordle Academy of Science and Progress.
The Exile looks in the same direction, acquainted with his strategy-forming tone. "Know of something in there that may help?"
"No. But we know someone who might."
Understanding full well of whom the vigilante speaks, the reunited party makes for a hasty pace to the building in which their fellow League champion dwells. Gunfire echoes in the ambience amidst the officers relaying information to each other at the top of their lungs. Anti-air cannons hauled to the scene launch their artillery into the sky, painting the night in a burning glow as crafts from both sides of the battle shower fiery remains.
This is the city's last stand; an onslaught of fiercely efficient robotic killers with no remorse, edging their way into a gradually dwindling resistance by the humans who created them. With the numbers in their favor, time slips closer to the completion of a mass extermination of the very lives those mechanical hands were built to protect.
Upon reaching the height of the Academy's steps, the group is halted by a collection of forces before they can reach the doors. Caitlyn approaches them with her no-nonsense authority, automatically assuming free passage. She strides forward, the way she has always freely strutted past police lines as part of her job investigating crime scenes. The armed law enforcers do not budge, much to the surprise of Piltover's esteemed sheriff.
"Move aside," a sense of duty speaks with sharp impatience.
"My apologies, Sheriff. We're under strict orders not to allow anyone through," one of them speaks.
"On whose authority?"
"We were tasked by the Chief himself," another officer chimes in. "No one is allowed inside this building until he gets back. I'm afraid that includes you and your associates."
"Get back from what?" a confused Vi steps forward. "Where is he?"
"On the frontlines. That's all I know, and all I'm permitted to say."
"THE WHOLE CITY IS IN RUINS, AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LET US DO OUR JOBS TO SAVE IT BECAUSE OF A STUPID ORDER!?"
A surrounding group of tense officers raise their weapons in response to the Enforcer's outburst.
"I-I'm sorry. Chief Steele was very deliberate," the dutiful guard remains as firm as possible.
"Tell me…" Ephrial looks intently through the man's goggles. "Your home is actively being destroyed, and your weapons remain unutilized. No one is allowed to enter the Academy, so that means their shelter lies elsewhere. What is it you're really protecting here?"
Anxiously, the men in uniform exchange looks amongst themselves, lowering their armaments. Their faces betray the inquiry as their very own the moment they had received their instructions. Each of them would rather be dispensing their ammunition into their cybernetic would-be replacements, fighting for their families.
The moment hangs in hesitation as the officer measures consequences against conscious. Without saying another word, he retracts his weapon, stepping aside. Following his lead, the remaining police straighten themselves at attention. A silent, unspoken agreement allows the group to enter the Academy without further obstruction.
Heavy doors shut behind them, and the sound echoes throughout the abnormally silent hallway. Wary, the group of League champions step further inside, keeping an eye on their evacuated surroundings.
"That was…beyond unusual," Caitlyn breaks the silence.
"You don't think the Chief is the one…" Vi looks over at her.
"Responsible for this?" completing her question. "It wouldn't make sense… What would he have to gain from virtually annihilating Piltover?"
"Keep guessing!" Jinx taunts.
"You—!" Vi grabs the twin-tailed criminal by the collar. "Tell us what you know!"
"She can't," Ephrial says flatly, keeping his attentive eyes forward.
"Excuse me?"
"She doesn't know who's truly responsible."
"Elaborate," Caitlyn, intrigued by a capable mind with an outsider perspective.
"Everything is a game to Jinx. From the start, she led us to believe that she possessed what we needed to know, and used that to bargain her way out of immediate incarceration…as well as an opportunity for revenge."
"Are you saying we brought her along for nothing!?" the Enforcer's temper sparks.
"Not quite. She did figure your police chief's involvement out way before us," the mercenary-knight gathers from Jinx's static behavior with the guarding officers. "Beyond that, she is as clueless as we are now."
The dolled-up wildcard takes a step away from Vi, wide eyes avoiding the group in a feigning obliviousness.
"Wait, so you're telling me the Chief is behind all of this…!?"
"Only involved. Whatever his reasons may be remain unclear, but he does not possess a following to put everything together on his own."
"What of having the entire police force under his command?" Riven emerges from a period of reticent observation.
"A tool, to be sure. However, they clearly know not of his agenda, much less his present whereabouts," referring only to the officers with a heartbeat.
"So why post guards with ambiguous orders, sewing suspicion towards him?" the Sheriff feeds the train of thought.
"Perhaps for the same theme that keeps repeating itself. Desperation. If he had any loyal units privy to his plans, I'd imagine we would have been attacked by something other than drones all this time."
"That still doesn't exactly explain why he isn't the head of the attacks we've been having. Just get to the point, already!" Vi, impatiently trying to reach the conclusion.
"…If I were in Chief Steele's place, aimed at wreaking havoc in Piltover, I would have long assassinated any potentially-threatening personnel, or champions for that matter, within reach long before staging the first attack on the city-state. The diminished morale would better serve to form and place these cybernetic police where I need them, using fear to gain the trust of the citizens. A fearful population is always quick to give up freedoms for the illusion of security. Furthermore, once things begin to reach their peak, I would not leave any resource under my control standing idle. Would that destruction truly be my goal, I would only entrust any necessary 'guard duty' to those whom would not hesitate to kill on sight. Any other force would be dispatched to the frontlines to die, reducing any opposition I may encounter in the end. Allocating tasks that I would need to rely on others for would only be because I was simply forced to by circumstance. Fewer mistakes that way."
The group is silently taken aback by the mercenary-knight's grim turn of reasoning. Even Riven, acquainted with the cruelest of military tactics, is shocked at the immediate understanding Ephrial gains from minimal information. She has already witnessed his perception at work up close, as well as his impractical way of overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles. However, hearing now the straightforward, efficacious comprehension and methodical pensiveness he bears makes her realize just how dangerous her partner's mind can be. The Exile shudders at the thought of such capability becoming unbound from the morality and honorable nature she can only assume to be his Ionian half.
Piltover's finest look at each other with worried expressions. The Blazing Swordsman's hypothetical example makes them realize just how much worse this entire situation could have been.
"Okay…so he's not the one pulling the strings. Who is?" the Enforcer asks the begging question.
"The one who coordinated the funding to create the COPS," Caitlyn further deduces.
"Pretty much every noble family had a hand in all that. You're saying there's someone controlling all of them…?"
"That seems to be the most reasonable case…as odd as it is to say that out loud. But how could such an unlikely collaboration form…? Extorsion?" the famed Piltovan detective tries to decipher a conclusion.
"We've all the right questions, and now we know just who to start asking. However, that will have to wait until we're done with our current objective," the vigilante pulls back to the primary task at hand.
A formal, gentlemanly voice calls out to them from the side. "Ah, hello there."
All heads turn to see Kip von Minstrelburg emerge from a door. He looks up at them in confusion, seeing a motley band of League combatants in a most unusual fashion. Such a combination would normally have nothing to do with each other outside of the Fields of Justice. Their anomalous exchange of attires further adds to the questioning yordle's face.
"You all seem rather…worse for wear. Nonetheless, it is a privilege. To what do I owe this unexpected visit in these most dire of times?" Kip maintains his professionalism.
"I thought they had the Academy completely evacuated," Caitlyn examines him with a suspecting gaze.
"Quite so. However, as Mister Heimerdinger's associate, the responsibility falls to me to make sure that everyone is properly vacated, and stay behind to assist the Revered Inventor."
"Heimerdinger is still here, then? Alright! Hurry up and open his lab door for us! I think we have a way to stop the rampage!" Vi, growing eager to make up for her involvement with the project.
"I'd be more than happy to assist you in such a salient endeavor! Would that I could," he says dryly, pushing his glasses up along his tiny nose.
"What do you mean?"
"Unfortunately, such strict protocols of a catastrophe of this magnitude dictate the complete and utter lockdown of Mister Heimerdinger's laboratory. I'm afraid the only one capable of overriding the doors at this point would be Mister Heimerdinger himself."
"Then how are you supposed to assist him?" the Exile inquires.
"I would act as the very first line of defense, Miss Riven." In a careful fashion that displays no hostility, the dutiful assistant reaches into his coat and unfolds what looks to be a prototype hextech shotgun.
"Your loyalty to our friend is most admirable, Kip. However, I have a question I must ask," Caitlyn narrows her eyes.
"I would be most happy to supply you with an answer, Officer. Be it in my realm of knowledge, of course."
"What manner of protocol does the Academy have that requires limiting access during a crisis?" testing his involvement.
"Why, none, of course! In fact, the truth is the very opposite. The Academy's sturdy walls are encouraged as a shelter during any such strife. Our evacuation was at the behest of Chief Steele himself, but…you already knew that, didn't you?"
"I see…" The Sheriff lays her inquiries to rest for now, only wondering what importance the Yordle Academy of Science and Progress has to her corrupt superior.
Ephrial cuts back to the chase, "To say we're short on time would be an understatement. Are you able to contact Heimerdinger and have him unlock his laboratory for us?"
"Communication under lockdown procedures is, quite unfortunately, a one-way matter. He will contact me, should the necessity arise," Kip explains.
"I suppose I could try punching those blast doors open," suggests an unruly policewoman.
"You and I both know how ineffective that would be."
The swordsman begins to feel pity for the devout yordle, as it appears the importance of his position is over-exemplified. Sticking to the matter at hand, he keeps his focus straightforward. "We'll have to find a new recourse, and swiftly."
"Far be it for me to compare myself to the legendary capability of my employer, but perhaps I can still be of assistance to your noble endeavor. Pray tell, what does it involve?"
"To cut it short, we need one of the decommissioned techmaturgical sensors from Demacia, and something that can generate a lot of power," Vi explains.
"Hm…" the formal yordle ponders. "I suppose, with any luck, the former could be found in the diagnostics chamber, on the second floor. Of course, it's been quite some time since the incident in Demacia you must be referring to. It may be hidden away in a rather…untidy storage room."
"What of a suitable energy source?" the mercenary asks.
"That would depend on your goal."
"We plan on causing an electromaturgical pulse throughout the entire city-state, shutting all those rust-buckets down for good," the Enforcer palms a mechanical fist.
"My…I know you sorts are known for rather…impractical solutions in the face of adversity, but this quite…"
"Unprecedented?" Caitlyn finishes for him.
"Indubitably so."
Jinx chimes in, "Yeah, well, we got an unprecedented situation going on outside. So, if you guys are finished taking forever to do something, can we hurry up and move!?"
"You are merely anxious to see the resulting explosions, aren't you?" Kip speaks plainly, seeing through her disguise.
"YES!"
"Hm…as much as I regret to say, I believe the only suitable devices capable of generating a sufficient amount of power would be one of Mister Heimerdinger's Doom machines."
"You mean he has another D.O.O.M machine somewhere?" Vi questions.
"No, no. You're thinking of the Drain Out Of Mana machine of the aforementioned incident in Demacia. No, I speak of a literal Doomsday device of the Revered Inventor's own creation," the yordle corrects.
"You said one of," the Sheriff leans toward Kip. "Am I to understand that Heimerdinger has possession of weaponry capable of cataclysmic proportions?"
"I will leave the deductions of their capability entirely to your imagination," the associate confidently deflects the query.
"Good to know!" Jinx, delighted from the information.
"Try however you may, I assure you that even you will never be able to procure one from his vault. Even I do not have such access."
"We'll see about that," cockily crossing her bound arms.
"Wait, if even you can't get to them, how are you supposed to help us?" Riven asks.
"The development of such delicate instruments required to make a device of that nature requires extensive testing, so many of these prototype Doomsday machines are, well, doomed to scrap. Any successful ones are strictly in theory."
"So, he's never even used one of his self-proclaimed Doomsday devices?" Vi asks.
"Heavens no! We'd need to acquire an entire deserted island to test such things."
"I'll be talking to you and Heimerdinger after all of this is done…" Caitlyn squints.
"Where does he keep these failed experiments?" Ephrial inquires.
"We keep those and other potentially volatile works in the basement.
"Very well. We'll have to split up. Vi, I believe it would make sense for you to search upstairs, seeing as you're a bit more acquainted with the Academy than us. You'll also know exactly what we're searching for, and see if it's still operable for use," panning for the best outcome of success with their group's strengths. "Caitlyn, would you accompany her? You do have a knack for tracking things down, after all."
"Seems like a reasonable course of action," the detective holds no objections.
"All right, Cait. Let's make this quick… I have a performance review with the Chief I wanna talk to him about after all this!" Vi sets course for the stairs.
"And I'll go with you guys!" Jinx takes a big step over to Kip and the sword-bearing duo.
"Oh, no you don't," the Sheriff stops her by the collar and begins dragging her along.
"But I wanna see the potential Doom Machiiiines!" shoes dragging.
"Right, then. 'Twould appear that just leaves us three. Shall we be off, then?" the yordle begins leading the way.
The two Noxians find themselves once again being escorted by the diminutive aide. Their steps echo in the empty halls as they race through the East wing of the prestige Academy.
"Tell me, Kip… It's not like Heimerdinger to run from battle. Why has he locked himself up?" Ephrial poses an inquiry.
"He is…working on something. I'm afraid that is all I can say on the matter," remaining tightlipped. "You will just have to have faith in his capability."
"Faith, huh? And here I thought learned scholars of science and technology prided themselves on answering the unknown."
"Perhaps, but contracts are indeed binding. Surely, a mercenary, such as yourself, knows a thing or two about that."
"To a degree. Yet, when lives are at stake, my blade remains my own."
"I assure you that Mister Heimerdinger is not sitting about idly, tinkering with baubles. Whatever inventions that lie in his security are only for the betterment of Runeterra as a whole, waiting for the right time to be revealed."
"New advancements in hextech are going to be a hard thing to sell," the fiery swordsman turns his thoughts inward. "Or worse… This whole crisis may attract the attention of capable buyers who seek a decisive advantage in battle."
"I don't like this," Riven runs alongside her partner, speaking just loud enough so only he can hear.
The mercenary-knight glances over, signifying his attention.
"All the attacks leading up until tonight have been seemingly random. The only deliberate actions we've seen are the attacks on us, and the evacuation of this building. What are they trying to protect?"
"She has the right of it. Inventor's Square was able to heavily fortify itself quite swiftly for an attack that caught the police off guard." He looks back over at her, testing a theory. "You were a commander of a military force, once. Tell me…if you were instigating a war on your own nation from the inside, which structure would you actively preserve?"
"Ngh…" the unsavory thought of being asked to go through her military prowess perturbs her. A trusting Exile pushes through the grim thoughts, searching her training for the ideal answer. "…High Command," she refers to the peak of the skull-like mountain their city-state is built around. "There's no doubt."
"Why?" further pressing, with a grave expression, as if seconds were on the line.
She closes her eyes, shaking her head in thought. "It would be the last place they would expect an inside assault. I would set up a force there over a course of weeks before launching my main forces for a surprise on the rest of Noxus." Riven's words speed up, as if catching up to a conclusion. "They would lie in wait while the frontline pushes from the outskirts, feigning rebellion starting from the lower levels. High Command is where all the leaders would rendezvous to determine who was behind the attack, before taking to the field themselves. With all of them conveniently in one place, I would—"
The Exile's eyes snap to meet Ephrial's, and the two immediately halt their tracks, sliding slightly forward on the smooth stone floor. Looking back over at their guide, their sudden epiphany washes over the hall, realizing just how detrimental their situation is.
"Kip!" the vigilante calls out.
The well-tailored yordle looks back at the pair that had fallen behind. His hand, brandishing the slim slice of green crystal that grants him restricted access, hovers above the keycard slot. Before he can make an inquisitive expression and respond to his name, the door opens without his activation.
Before any of them can react, all becomes bleached in a brilliant white light.