Chapter 3

AN: Hey guys, just a little word from me. I've been wondering how you guys like my story(s) or my writing. I've always been looking for review and constructive (or negative, but as long as you give a valid reason) feedback so I can do a little better each time. So it will be great to see how you like the direction this new story is taking. Anyways, continue reading and enjoy!

Also, for those who had been wondering this was a sequel to my other story I will say yes and no. Yes it is the same universe after what had happened and no because this will take a fresh side with Katarina. The premises are the same, Swain takes power. However, this story will about the fight against him, nothing from the past but that doesn't mean they won't appear again.

The grey clouds above growled like a wild beast at the onset of a thunderstorm. Katarina walked about on a steel balcony not too far from the square where the execution was to take place. She checked constantly at the clock hanging inside on a wall every few minutes. The ticking of time seemed to slow as the execution approached. She felt this tingling nervousness that she had not felt in a long time, not since her first real kill from the shadows.

'2:28', the clock read. '2:35'. '2:46'.

Katarina sighed, it was going excruciatingly slow for her. She had kept her eyes open, her mind attentive and her senses sharp as her blades as she meticulously surveyed the square from above. It was a former market where lively denizens would go about merrily on their daily business, now it served the exact opposite purpose. A single wooden platform had been constructed in the centre with a ring of Noxian guards surrounding it, forming a protruding wall of pikes. On the platform was the sight of nightmares; the guillotine. Standing wicked and tall, its high, raised angled blade was a grim reminder of the Demacian fate. Many heads had been severed upon that deadly contraption and many wills to resist were crushed on that spot.

A crowd had formed around in the square and many of them were battered and starved looking. Murmuring and light commotions were coming from them, causing the guards to threaten with their pikes several times as they tried to keep the order. Katarina noticed one person below. She seemed like a middle-aged mother taking along her ten year old son around the outskirts of the square where they went about unnoticed. She hurried about and kept her and her son's fixated on the ground and in her free hand clutched a tight fist with a little piece of white exposing from her fingers. Katarina's instinct tells her that the woman was of suspicion. She kept her attention on the strange woman and her son before they quickly disappeared back into the crowd, vanishing into the sea of people.

'2:56'.

Upon the platform, a stern stream of guards led by a menacing hooded executioner appeared. Trailing behind them was a frail, weary old man in chains and prisoner rags. He had an aged yet wise look but was marred by bruises and a messy, untrimmed beard. His appearance was the shadow of a former King yet Katarina saw in his eyes a flame that burned with passion. A will to resist had still existed within him, a flame that could spread and instigate a rebellion.

As he dragged his bare feet across the splintered platform, the crowd began to stir. It was a desire to see their King freed, but not said. They knew if they had spoken against it they too will face the executioner's axe yet they stir. Mumbling and discontent sounded from the square that was now packed with people.

The King was brought before a single granite block with the top carved out to fit a neck upon. His chains were then removed by the guards as they left the platform, leaving the King with the axe. There was no fear, no regret and no trembling from the King. He stared at the block intensely not out of some grim, final thoughts but that of readiness. It was as though he was prepared to address a nation with a speech. His gazes lifted and surveyed the crowd, his passionate eyes meeting theirs and a fury sparked.

After a chill wind had passed, the King began to speak. "Men, women and children of Demacia, do not see this as an act of defeat. Today, my sacrifice will not be in vain and I assure you my words are honest. My death will only serve a greater purpose. Remember this well in your heart, that one day, you will be free again. Remain strong! And remember who you truly are, Demacians!"

With those final words, the King lifted his right hand to his heart before prompting bringing to into the sky, pointing at the Heavens above. It was a familiar gesture that Katarina heard about. It was a gesture of defiance and freedom and the symbol of the Demacian heart ascending to the clouds. It was the Rebel's signature gesture. Suddenly, Katarina could hear faint gasps from the crowd as all became silent. The executioner shoved the King onto his knees and placed his neck on the block. Below, to her surprise, the Demacians did not shield their eyes, they had watched intensively as though they were ordered by their King. The axe raised as the King relaxed his eyes and gave a final breath before it came down on his neck. His life was severed, along with his head yet only silence came from the crowd as the sanguine river spilled down the platform and slowly seeped into the cracks of the ground. Katarina waited for any signs of chaos and commotion but then the miracle occurred. Altogether, the crowd too had saluted the Rebel's salute. Thousands of right hands were raised into the air, aiming for the paradise that they had believed in. It was a passive resistance and a gesture of defiance but no actions, not yet.

The Noxian guards responded by violently pushing the crowd again in an attempt to disrupt their symphony but it was of no use. At the sight of their dead King, the Demacians retaliated by fighting back and resisting the guards' brutality. An escalating roar was stirring in the square as more and more Noxian reinforcements came to suppress them. Katarina saw no rebels and decided that a simple unrest could be dealt with by the guards. Perhaps the Tree was right, she thought, though it probably must've been a coincidence.

As she returned back inside to escape the chill, Talon appeared before her.

"A strange move don't you think?" he asked her.

"A move on what?" she replied as she sat down on a nearby table and lightly sipped some hot tea from a mug.

"You know what it is. Why would Swain allow a public execution like this? It would've only served to promote the Demacian's resistance and fervor," Talon said, sitting down across from her.

"Who knows what he is up to? I don't really care if he wants to blow up Demacia for some foolish buried Tree, all I've come to do is round up the rebels and finish them off, do not bother me with anything else" Katarina coldly replied.

"True, but that does not mean you can turn away from him forever. Eventually he will catch up to you. You need to be careful, your father is-"

Katarina snapped her eyes at Talon, silencing him. She held a deadly look, almost insulted and for a moment had an aura to kill emanating from her.

"I apologise but I'm only being considerate for you, I had sworn to your family and you. It is a duty and my life," Talon said.

Katarina laid down her half emptied mug as the soft steam still rose from it.

"I would rather you be considerate for me by helping me with the mission."

For a few moments, silence ensued from them as Katarina finished her mug of tea which warmed her insides. At the end of the room hung a large painting of the Grand Marshal, it had become law that each household were to have some statue or picture of Swain placed in a dignified manner to represent Noxian strength and pride. Katarina stared at it with disgust, wanting to just tear the canvas to shreds with her knives and risk the death sentence. She gripped her daggers tightly at the thought of having Swain order her and Noxus around.

"You were so eager to accept this mission yet you still look troubled," Talon remarked, breaking the silence.

Katarina faintly sighed and turned her eyes to the grey skies as the thick clouds drifted past.

"I just wanted to escape from Noxus," she wanted to burst out saying, "I can't stand the city, it feels like it is choking me." "Noxus is no better than Demacia right now." All these things she wanted to confer with someone but she couldn't, not with Talon, not with anyone, she could only hold it in her heart.

"Perhaps you need some time then, I will leave for now but we must go in ten minutes. We should start our investigations quickly. I will wait for you outside," Talon said before excusing himself from the room. With him gone, Katarina relaxed her mental shield and laid back onto the cushion of her chair. She took out one of her knives and fidgeted with it on the table, making several deep marks upon the wooden surface, leaving the evidence that she was ever there. She took the edge up to her eyes and inspected the reflective side and saw herself in it. Her piercing emerald eyes, the scar that ran down one of them, her deceptively deadly looks and her hair. The crimson river that ran down to her back, it was silky and soft, unfitting of an assassin. She put her dagger away and combed her hair with her hand, allowing the fragile strands to run between her fingers. It was one of the last few treasures she had held dear to her. She had learned harshly that as an assassin, one cannot have obvious treasures for they would become their fatal weakness. To her, she had embraced two things that no others would suspect and one of them was her hair that she had sworn to not be cut ever since childhood.

After some more silence, she gathered herself and prepared to leave before checking the clock one last time.

'3:28', it ticked.

After sending the Elite Guards over the city, Talon and Katarina had decided that they would spread themselves and investigate the market area in the slums. It was not actually a market per say but rather several makeshift stores constructed from metal scraps and wood and were mostly held by kind enough Demacians with a surplus of needs and goods. They did not accept money; instead they accepted the ration cards that the Noxians gave them. The market was shanty, but it served its purpose well enough. It was also immensely huge as it needed to accommodate the millions of Demacians living outside the walls. The countless stalls and roads that forked in every direction had constructed a perfect maze, filled with those who had desired to rebel against Noxus. It was also the best place to start their investigations.

As Katarina strode down an aisle filled with stalls that stunk of garbage and rotten meat, she was met with many threatening and accusing glares. She paid no attention to them and instead focused on her flanks. She was vulnerable at this space, at any moment a would-be aggressor could come at her with a hidden shank or a poisoned dagger. She kept her arms close to her knives and her feet nimble, ready to kill anyone daring to assault her. Each step she takes on the dirty road, she puts herself in further danger. She could hear the low murmuring and whispers spread like wind across the stalls but she kept focused on her path ahead.

Talon was to scout around the outskirts of the market area and in case of any signs of trouble he can then immediately enter the market's heart with haste to assist Katarina. She approached the market's centre which was a simple clearing with an oak tree in the middle to mark it as their 'plaza'. The Demacians would gather around here for most news and events and sometimes just to simply have conversations and meet with acquaintances. The area was also patrolled by no less than four Noxian platoons with the orders to kill anyone who they had deemed a danger to their rule.

One of the platoons were circling the plaza now, chasing out any lingering Demacians like rats. The captain of the platoon saluted Katarina, followed by the guards themselves. She had always hated this type of greeting and tradition for she was an assassin and something as fancy as saluting will surely put her into the light. Quickly, she acknowledged the men in order to melt herself back into the crowd.

"Miss Du Couteau, my men has been searching the markets left and right but we haven't found anything just yet," the captain reported.

Katarina suddenly felt watched. She quickly examined her surrounding to spot a pair of spying eyes but could only find more rotten stalls and junk.

"Patrol these areas tightly, rebel activities may stem from here," Katarina said, still suspicious as her eyes gazed around.

"Yes ma'am!"

With salutes from everyone, the platoon spread out and prepared another round of patrol around these tight alleys and stalls. As the guards readied themselves, Katarina walked over to the oak. It was a dying tree, its dry bark and brittle leafs thirsted for care. The garbage and pollution from the nearby stalls had taken its toll on this single lone tree, the only surviving piece of nature that could be seen from miles of desert and Noxian industry. Katarina ran her fingers down the harsh bark. The oak's branches were nearly stripped bare like an elderly's teeth, only a few brave leafs grasped on. When a breeze comes by, the leafs would waver and rustle as though they were about to fall. It was a miracle she thought that such life could still maintain itself in a desolate place. The magnificent tree had given off a faint fragrance of sweet wood, a smell that she had not sensed in a long time. She looked about, curious to see if the oak had given off any seeds so that she may take some with her and grow more. However, the surrounding ground had nothing more than hard dirt and trash and decomposed leafs.

Suddenly, Katarina felt a sharp projectile whistle through the air. Her acute hearing caught the sound of iron entering flesh, followed by the chokes of gurgling and finally a body collapsing onto the ground. She turned around and saw the captain lying on a pool of slowly expanding blood with a bolt protruding from his jugular. The guards took a few moments before they had even realized what had happened but Katarina already saw it all. From the corner of her eyes a black cloaked figure dashed about and vanished into the market stalls.

"Leave the captain and go after him!" Katarina ordered as a few guards attempted to carry the body of their commander away.

Katarina ignored the slow guards and gave chase. Her nimbleness and speed as an assassin served her well as she leapt over stalls and fences and sprinted down the road after the cloaked figure. If it were any other person, the killer would've already escaped but Katarina was no ordinary being, even as an assassin she was superb. Her legs ran as one with her lithe and sleek body as she sliced through the wind after her target. She felt refreshed once again, like her first kill as the cool air brushed past her face with her flowing hair trailing behind.

With each jumps, each dash and each roll she came closer and closer to het target. It felt like another contract, another kill, it was the one thing that had always thrilled her. As the cloaked figure came into sight, she now no further than ten metres from him. She then reached for one of her knives and aimed it with one hand before throwing it with deadly precision. The spiralling blade flew straight at her target's back and was mere inches from striking him. Just as Katarina thought it was all over, the target tumbled away and dodged the knife without even looking. Katarina was surprised at such reaction and speed; she had not seen this type of skill ever since the League collapsed. She felt a new joy surge through her body with energy.

With a sharp turn, the target flung had himself into a stall, temporarily disappearing from sight.

"Oh no you don't!" Katarina said, excited from this hunt. Then, as agile as her target, she too turned and continued the chase. She spotted him running along the tattered roofs of the market and quickly climbed above with one swift jump. As she ran after him, she could feel the unstable foundation of the roofs from the makeshift stalls. Each step you took, it had bounced loudly as the sole of her leather boot struck the steel coverings.

Katarina then reached for another blade when suddenly her target halted and turned to her and took out what appeared to be a silvery crossbow. With instincts fast as a hawk, Katarina barely managed to dodge three soaring bolts which would've found themselves lodged in her heart if she was any slower. The bolts were deadly accurate, she thought, this was no ordinary assassin.

Soon, the chase had ended them at the eastern outskirts of the market where the stalls and buildings were now much less dense. Instead, large expanses of dirt fields and sands lay as far as the eye could see into the desert and away from the city walls. The cloaked figure jumped down at the edge of one of the stalls and once again vanished, this time for good. When Katarina reached the ground, she could no longer feel his presence. She glanced left and right with her daggers held up in a defensive stance. There was not a single soul in sight, nor any sound, only silence filled her ears.

Cautiously, she eased her steps about, making not a single noise. Her feet were light as feather, her senses sharp as they daggers which she wields. Her emerald eyes never stopped moving, constantly surveying her surroundings. She was vulnerable at this point, she knew she was being watched, but from where?

Suddenly, the corner of her eyes caught the glimpse of a black figure sneaking about and instantly she fired one of her knives at it and heard it strike. She quickly approached her hit and found that her dagger pinned to a stall with a piece of black cloth on it. She took her knife out and held the cloth to her hands and examined it. It felt rough, yet slightly oily as though someone had painted it with a strange substance. She then followed her senses and continued down a tight road. Eventually, she found herself in an alleyway between two brick walls. Hanging above were lines of drying laundry and boarded up windows, but no one in sight. She held up her blades and entered with extreme caution. The winds now blowing slightly harder did not deter her senses. These were the results of years of training, Katarina could spot a mouse in a cornfield and hear a pin drop in the often silence of her home.

As she ventured deeper into the alleys, her path soon began to fork into a mazelike construct. She had left the market and entered the residential area surrounded by both wooden and brick houses yet again, no one about. She though it was strange, as though she was caught in some theatrical play and her the puppet. The unease of eyes watching her every step lingered in her stomach. A cruel play it was, and the audience the residents, mocking her with every intent. She gripped her daggers tightly, her body beginning to tense up. After realizing this, she took a deep breath and relaxed her mind before continuing.

Left, then right, then left then right again. She kept going like this but ended in no result. It must've been almost half an hour before she began to think that her target had escaped. This would've made it the first time in her life that she had been unable to track down and kill someone she had desired. However, quickly she would find that this was quite wrong when she heard spotted a crouched being cloaked in black ahead of her, completely unaware. She saw a torn edge in the cloak knew that she had not lost her target. Eagerly, she crept up to just a few metres behind him and mentally aimed her knife slicing across his throat. Without a single sound, she flashed before her target and did exactly just that. She felt her blade cut through the flesh of throat, followed by the gush of blood. The crouched figure collapsed face first into the dirt without any gasps or reactions.

Wiping her blade off and happy of her work, she proceeded to turn her slain target around to see his face. To her utter surprise, it was a Noxian guard who was already well into the stages of rigor mortis. This was not her target but a corpse that had died days ago. Her eyes widened and her mouths opened for a gasp at this find.

A trap!

Suddenly, a voice called in the distant. It belonged to Talon. "Katarina! Are you in here?"

Just as she was about to turn around to greet his callings, her eyes caught a glimpse of a massive man with a huge blade in hand coming fast at her. Just as she was about to retaliate, she felt a sudden sharp pain to her mind and her vision blurred and her senses dulled. It was the symptoms of poisoning, but from what? She tried to dodge but found that her feet would not respond as the man approached her. By now, she could no longer detect the colors of the world and only saw the warrior-like silhouette towering over her. She was falling, her consciousness slipping as well. When her back landed on the hard dirt ground, her hearing became the first to go. All sounds became an incoherent ringing. Then, it was her smell, her taste, her touch and finally her sight as her surroundings became black.

'5:48'