Caitlyn remains silent among the racket of the truck, as do most of the men under her command. The Sheriff's fingers keep caressing her rifle, a nervous tick she never quite managed to suppress under duress. The woman leans back in her seat and places the butt of her weapon on the metal floor, fighting with herself not to load it. Regulations she herself advised on regarding ammunition are there for a reason.
No more than ten seconds pass before her fingers go back to running over the smooth length of her rifle's barrel, the tense silence of the ride feeding her anxiety.
Caitlyn rubs her stinging eyes, acutely aware of how she hasn't shut them for more than three hours at a time in just as many days. A sheriff's work does not have fixed hours, but neither does it usually require switching to truly nocturnal lifestyle. The situation with Jinx is the first in a long time that has had her contemplating simply sleeping through the day to be more awake at night, when the terrorist usually comes out of hiding. Alas, there is more trouble in the city than that caused by that madwoman. She can't delegate all of her time one criminal's way - much as she would like to. Much as Vi would, if given the go-ahead.
Her partner seems to have made it a point of honour to be the one to catch (or more realistically, kill) the menace. The woman, while useful whenever Jinx shows up, has done much more good by helping to contain the inevitable surge of crime that follows the Loose Cannon's exploits. As much grief as the insane criminal is causing to the citizens and the Clans, she is still only one person. The damage she's capable of causing comes nowhere close to what all the other elements in the city are capable of if left unchecked. What the Noxians are capable of, if not plucked out from the citizens' midst. Jinx just so happens to be very loud and graphic, easier to remember by the public. Certainly easier to remember by the Clan heads whose property she targets.
Jinx is a problem, yes, a huge one, certainly – a catalyst for the chaos the Force is working to reign in. But still, just one cog among many. While dealing with her is a priority, it's just one among many. To focus solely on her would be just as foolish as letting her be.
A ringing radiophone at Caitlyn's side snaps her out of her reverie. The enforcer at the site was to call her were the situation to escalate. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of her stomach as she picks the handset up.
"Sheriff Liddell on the line."
"Deputy Enforcer Derricks on the line, ma'am. Enforcer Vi just entered the complex. Orders?"
Caitlyn's mind goes blank for a second, before singular thoughts slowly begin crackling through.
Vi. Jinx. Fireworks factory. Residential district.
Jinx.
Her knuckles go white as she clutches her riffle with an iron-like grip. She forces herself to relax, just a bit, when the fact that her underlings are staring at her registers in the woman's mind.
When the warning about the Loose Cannon, casually strolling through the factory's grounds came through, Caitlyn knew right away the night would end in disaster – that being either unnecessary loss of life, or colossal property damage. Possibly both. It's a blessing and a curse that the maniac doesn't seem to target people specifically. If she wanted to, the death toll would have far surpassed the few unfortunate souls that died in her rampages up till now – mostly civilians, mostly in the fires the lunatic started, their deaths never planned nor noticed by the criminal. On the other hand, the damages resulting in the chaos are unsustainable in the long term. Much as she disdains the stance of the Clans – only ever interested in the loss of their assets – there is only so much damage that Piltover can suffer without it making a mark on the city's prosperity, and thus people's safety, in the long term.
Those in power would have her save material property. They would never say it outright, but they've made their stance on the matter plenty clear. What are a few dead compared to the dozens of thousands of hexes' worth of losses, to the possible thousands of lost jobs? Many of the unemployed workers would become homeless, a slew would turn to crime, who knows how many to chems.
Caitlyn swore an oath, back when she took up her position as a sheriff, that she would protect the citizens of Piltover from harm. That she would do everything in her power to grant them safety.
Which would make them safer, though? Foregoing the evacuation and focusing all her available resources on catching the cause of this madness, or making sure all the residents leave the area before a disaster strikes? If they take Jinx down, even at the cost of destroying the factory and likely, some civilian deaths in the resulting fires – would it not be a better outcome than having the terrorist escape because she hesitated to bring the hammer down on her? Which of these choices would result in less damage, less death, and less misery, further down the line?
She wonders, at times; what does her oath mean?
How convenient that the world is not so clear-cut as to have her face only two outcomes. Were she to send all her people after Jinx, it is uncomfortably likely they would fail to bring her down, or only manage to do so while suffering unacceptable losses. Caitlyn thought her trap at the treasury perfect, never even considering the possibility that her mark would hold her own life in such a disregard as to gleefully bring the roof down on all of them, rather than get caught. Knowing the criminal, she would just blow the factory up if cornered, and then, somehow, still manage to escape. Leaving Caitlyn with nothing to show for sacrificing the district and its inhabitants.
How she despises having to deal with lunatics. Their kind disgusts her. She holds no respect for common criminals, but them she can at least understand. It's all about money, emotions rarely have to do with their actions, and mafia members in especial. Lunatics though? They kill and destroy because they enjoy it. They slaughter and ruin peoples' lives because they believe, in their warped minds, that they are completely justified in doing so.
They're easy, pathetically easy to figure out, with their tendencies and fixations, usually looking for specific traits in their victims. But Jinx? The only two constants about the girl are that she craves destruction, and – for whatever reason – has taken to deliberately mocking her enforcer.
In theory, she could use her charge to draw the bomber out, to set up a trap. A theory that - she's found the day the treasury was destroyed - is much harder to execute than she previously thought. It's... unfamiliar, to deal with someone whose motive remains hidden from her. Every crime, every action has a motive, there are no exceptions. From a motive, arises a pattern, and with it in Caitlyn's hands, her mark is as good as caught.
Weeks after first encountering Jinx, the Sheriff has yet to find the first trace of method to the maniac's madness. One day it's knocking over trash bins and setting the dogs from a shelter loose, then it's bombing the town hall and ambushing a police convoy scant hours afterwards. Jinx brought down Piltover's treasury without sparing a thought to the money inside, only to be reported to be shooting the pigeons perching on the Old Hungry the next day. With her rocket launcher, because of course she would.
It's a pattern of chaos, if such a thing even exists. To effectively stop it, there'd need to be patrols posted as thick as every square kilometre, and Caitlyn hasn't got enough sway within the Force to get those, nor does the Force have such resources to spare in the case she did.
Instead, what she has is Vi. Every time they pinpoint Jinx's location, the Enforcer all but begs to be sent after her, which Caitlyn always agrees to. If only because the criminal seems to lose her interest in creating mayhem for as long as the pinkette is chasing her. It's disconcerting, how the girl makes a point of deliberately taunting her friend. While she dares not try to use it to their advantage again, at least it aids in limiting the collateral. It both helps and not that her subordinate lets herself be affected by the taunts, Caitlyn has never seen the other woman so driven.
One could say Vi is emotionally compromised. One could say it's the only thing keeping her going at this point. One could also say that it's draining her far too much for anyone's benefit.
They would be right.
The problem with Vi is her recklessness, her brutality, and indeed, her passion. While it were these exact traits which made her draft the woman to the Wardens – they have also proven to be... problematic, when it comes to a certain blue-haired criminal. Almost to the point of making her partner a liability.
On the other hand, who else in the Force is capable of charging in, closing the distance, and acting as a shield for the others? The Wardens may be a skilled bunch, but it's a rare individual who can do what Vi has been doing even back in Zaun. They have the bots to soak up the bullets, she supposes, but those are hardly as versatile as living beings.
"Sheriff?" She shakes her head and thoughts away – there will be more time to think later.
"Is the area vacated?"
"The complex is, neighbouring blocks are still in-progress."
"Focus on that. Do not follow enforcer Vi unless the fireworks go off - the culprit is more likely to make for an escape if faced with support. How many fire trucks are on the way?"
"Four."
"Call for more. At least double that. Assign as many people as possible to directing the evac. Liddell out."
"Understood, sheriff. Derricks over and out."
She puts the handset down, and rubs her at eyes again. What a wonderful night it's shaping up to be.
For some people, the night has indeed been shaping up to be one of pleasantry and profit. That is until being rudely interrupted by the news of an attack spreading across the city. When the night began, Jayce had plans - plans of conquest, in a sense. Much like in the rest of Runeterra, the social gatherings of the upper echelons of Piltover serve a much more important purpose than whatever the official occasion may be. After all, without the right connections, even the most brilliant of inventors will not be able to put their genius to proper commercial use. When presented with the choice between attending the latest charity ball, or spending the night in his ruined laboratory, trying to salvage something from the literal tons of scrap left in the wake of a surprise paid to the inventor by a bomber now at large, Jayce lost no time on making his choice.
However, even in the face of such troubling news (for some, like the owner of a certain fireworks factory, more than others) the crop of Piltovan society stands undaunted. After all, how would succumbing to fear and prematurely ending their party because of some uncouth, insane, and worst of all; indecently-clad girl, look like to the criminal element of the city-state? Unthinkable.
To most of the gathered, anyway.
Jayce will readily admit to having underestimated Jinx when he faced-off against the lunatic. The fact which cost him his laboratory, insurance abatement, and much of the research he now has to rebuild from scratch. Before then, the girl was just some hotshot criminal to him, no different from so many others. How wrong he was.
The man carefully pushes through the crowd, smiling apologetically to those he has to push aside, to better hear the broadcast from the radio someone asked the butler to bring forth for the news.
"-the police has closed off the district, and is now evacuating the surrounding area. The junior-enforcer at the scene advises citizens to remain in their homes, and orders everyone in half a kilometre radius of the cordon to vacate the premises in order of-"
The inventor turns down the volume on the radio, granting himself undivided attention from everyone gathered.
"Forgive me this-" he says as his eyes lock with the night's host's – he'd rather avoid offending a potential sponsor. "-but I can't remain here while the people of Piltover need help." Jayce only waits the second it takes the other man to nod his understanding, before briskly making his way to the exit.
It's a couple of steps before an enthusiastic applause and cheering erupts among the guests all around. Despite the circumstances, a smile tugs at his lips.
Oh yeah.
The man quickens his brief pace almost to a run before he rounds the first corner, eager to get back to Mercury Hammer, which he'd had to leave in the lounge with his assistant bot. He designed the aide specifically, and only, for the purpose of holding his weapon. Crafted from non-conductors, the bot's sole function is to hold the hammer, and turn off its shock mechanism at its owner's command.
Much as he'd like to simply carry his weapon with him wherever he goes, many places have rules about this sort of thing – a curious concept in Jayce's eyes. Somehow, he can't shed the doubts lingering in his mind about someone like Jinx failing to comply with the sign of no weapons allowed. Alas, a law-abiding citizen such as himself needs to be helpless in case he has to defend himself. All he can do is make sure Mercury Hammer is somewhere close to him, and he's not about to leave his weapon unprotected. Viktor had taught him much about trust, so had the bombing of his lab about the effectiveness of its defences.
"Go back to workshop," Jayce commands his bot as he grabs his weapon, never slowing on his way to the elevators. His rush pays off, as he manages to arrive at his destination just in time to slip in between the closing door of a cabin.
A quick glance around the interior later, he very pointedly turns his back to the elderly couple also occupying the small space, intent on avoiding their judging stares. He had long mastered the art of ignoring the unpleasant feeling of being scrutinized. Comes with being a celebrity.
He wastes no time in getting out of the building when the elevator arrives at the ground floor, paying no attention to the questioning gazes he draws from the passers-by, and reaches the parking lot in a record time. His car was not built with racing in mind, but neither was it built with the reinforcement and tech the vigilante put in it since. With the exception of glass, he would put money on his wheels being able to serve as a decent cover in case he needs one.
It's not long after Jayce leaves the party that the night sky is ripped apart by hundreds, maybe thousands of colourful explosions.
He doesn't stop, nor does he slow down. While it might be too late for him to help save the day, meagre minutes too late, he can still help with the evacuation – annoying as it is to both him and the Force, people often trust him more than the police. And who knows, perhaps he can still aid in the chase, should luck be on their side. Either way, his place now is among those needing help, not-
Wait- is that Vi?
He slams the breaks, and backs up a bit.
It is Vi!
Propped by a wall, bruised, unmoving, and profusely bleeding Vi.
Jayce's heart stutters to a halt as he jumps out of his vehicle, and runs up to the human-shaped mess to check for her life signs. A sigh of relief escapes him upon finding both the pulse and breathing. Alright... what did his first-aid course say about acquiring medical attention for someone with... well, a head injury for sure, likely a concussion to follow it up in addition to the many burns of first and maybe even second degree. The countless nicks and bruises forming wherever the angry red of the burns hasn't taken may look ugly, but are of no concern when faced with the Enforcer's other wounds.
Shit. He would take her to the hospital himself, but how is he to know if it's even safe to move his friend in the state she's in? What if she's suffering from internal wounds as well? What if he makes it even worse? He's a doctor of engineering science, not medical! He simply doesn't know how to help here beyond calling for someone else's aid.
It's for that reason, that he lets Vi lie in peace, as he hurries away to use the (illegally, some would argue) modified radiophone installed in his car.
A disaster indeed.
Caitlyn's eyes sweep over the chaos that the district has become. The factory itself is a goner, the buildings of the complex either collapsed or still supplying the spectacle in the night sky with more fireworks, while also spreading the fires to the neighbouring buildings.
In the centre of it all - Vi.
They had almost arrived on the scene when the explosion happened. Caitlyn began shouting orders before ever getting out of the truck, through the radio and then at the officers with her. It only got more hectic once she got off the vehicle, when she joined in coordinating the evacuation effort. One thought kept gnawing at her that entire time – what's happened to Vi? Nobody can get even remotely near to the complex, the heat is too great still and the firemen say it'll be hours before they can get close enough to start fighting the fire in the factory proper.
Hours of not knowing whether or not Vi has survived the explosion, and the following inferno.
The woman shakes her head.
Of all her officers, her enforcer would be the one to pull through something like this. MIA until confirmed otherwise. It's a mantra she's adopted a long ago to help her keep her nerves on a leash. It helps. Most of the time.
"Sheriff?" Her head snaps up at the voice of one of her underlings.
"What is it?"
"There's a man on the radio, he says he's uh... the Defender of Tomorrow-" ...Jayce? "-and that you'll want to speak to him." Oh, she most definitely will! About where did he get their frequencies from, for one!
The woman lets herself be led to their comms, and dismisses the operator for her talk with the vigilante. If her superiors ask, she can always pass the idiot off as a trusted informant, which, with some mental exercise involved, is not untrue.
"Sheriff Liddell on the line." She checks for response.
"Caitlyn? Good, we need help."
Rust and acid, what is it now?
"I'm busy, in case you haven't heard. I'm not going to-"
"No, look, I found Vi. And she needs help, right now!"
…
"Where?"