"I must admit, it's doesn't quite fit the picture that goes around in the higher circles." Jayce loudly admits, having to speak over the rhythmic thumping coming from inside the establishment known as Toxicity.

"A lot of things don't fit in those circles. Like brains." The man gasps, faking shock. It would look rather convincing too if he'd drop the smile from his lips.

"What have we ever done to deserve such critique?" He mockingly asks. Drawing a smirk from his friend.

"Nothing." Or maybe not a smirk, more like a shit eating grin. "Come on. I don't think you wanna stick around here for too long?"

"Not for any longer than our business takes, no. Though I must admit I'm rather curious of the place. It looks way less shabby than I imagined. Odd, given what we know." What he knows maybe.

"Yeah well, Jen always liked to keep her space nice and tidy." Minus an occasional party of course but... she shakes her head. "Let's just get this over with. I don't wanna be here either." She pushes the memories back where they belong, to a deep and dark corner of her mind, where she wishes they'd remain buried. It works for the most part. The talk ahead is already going to be difficult. They had spent too much time together for Vi to expect anything different from Jen.

They skip straight past the queue and towards the bouncer, drawing quite a few looks from the crowd gathered in front of the club. No wonder, the (in)famous duo visiting a a place like this together? If the gossip of this hits the mill, the rags might just kick their next issue off with an article questioning Jayce's eligibility, oh how the ladies would cry.

"Hold it you two, do you..." the bouncer trails off when he notices who has he halted. "Vi? The fuck you doing here, and with him too?" Jayce gives the man a small wave as an answer ...she can't quite put the guy's face to a name though. It's somewhere at the back of her tongue and the young woman simply doesn't care to remember.

"Business. What do you think?" Not that he needs to know that. People get their knickers in a twist when someone forgets their name, Vi does too.

"Business? I remember you saying the only business we had was getting our asses kicked, fuck outta here." Oooh that rings a bell actually. Mitch, good old Mitch. One of the men Jen once worked with, and that apparently now works for her. The Enforcer busted his knee if she remembers correctly. Overzealous tit, she wonders if he still believes in the whole thick as thieves thing.

"Yeah, yeah shut up. I'm here to see Her, not you." She replies in a dismissive voice, and she has a feeling that the bouncer is holding himself back from hitting her. Only a few seconds of talking with him and it's already proving to be a few seconds too long. The people in the queue are slowly starting to back off. Sensing an approaching danger is a slowly fading ability that near all people living in Downtown had still had but ten years ago. And while Caitlyn's efforts have made the talent more or less obsolete throughout most of Piltover, the remnants of it still remain within people's subconsciousness. Only a remnant though, ten years ago the street would likely be near empty by now.

"I don't care what you're here for. You ain't getting in you lil shit."

"Whoa, whoa whoa. No need for names. Surely we can keep this civil." Tries Jayce. And is immediately disappointed by his companion's next words.

"You either let us in or the next time I come around it'll be with a squadron. Which do you think Jen will bag you for?" She can see all too well how the burly man is barely restraining himself from drawing a gun on her here and now. Well, good luck, because with the current spirits within the department, a thug like him starting a fight with an officer will screw him over in the way only the law can. With the administration finally finishing their investigation, it will leave the PPD free to destroy him. And he knows that, he's not stupid, just loyal.

Jen will still deck him if he lets them through. It's a choice between a broken face and a broken skull for him. Tough luck. As far as Vi's concerned, every employee under the owner of Toxicity deserves to rot in prison for the latest dealings of their boss. She knows their type, been working with them enough to know, they'll turn their eyes away from anything if their pay is good enough. Actually, it doesn't even have to be that good most of the time. The mine job was crap and they still didn't give a damn.

Her old acquaintance bites back a snarl and shouts into the doorway he's guarding.

"Lester! Come here!" Lester, Lester... nope, must be some new guy.

And indeed, the young Ionian face that shows up in the doorway rings no bells in Vi's mind. The boy, however, seems to recognize her right away, seeing as his eyes widen at her sight. That or maybe it's Jayce that has that effect on him. Probably Jayce, now that she thinks of it, that's how it goes most of the time.

"Yeah?" The boy asks his coworker once he gets his bearings.

"Tell the boss her pig's here." Because of course that's what Jen would call her nowadays. Bitch. "And that she's brought Futureman with her," He gives them a speculative look. "Without their toys too. Go. And you two, body search."

None of them says a thing while he's working, Vi and Jayce expected nothing less of course, one of the reasons they haven't brought any weapons. Were they trying to smuggle even a knife, were the bouncer to find it, they'd get turned around without a chance to come back. Something Mitch seems to be very hopeful for, going by his extensively detailed padding of them both. Honestly, they could just get a metal detector already. It's a gears damned City of Progress that they live in and the thing has been on the market for almost two years now!

"Clear." Mitch eventually announces, to whom? Vi can't tell. "Wait for Lester, you stir any trouble I'll rip this shit out your ears." He points at her earrings and Vi scowls. They're not looking for trouble, not exactly. Thing is, trouble has a way of finding them both, and with Jen in the picture... she rather likes her ears as they are, she's not deluding herself about their chances against the woman's entire entourage. Not with them having batons and guns while Vi and Jayce themselves are only equipped with their fists.

It doesn't take long for the boy to return, but still enough for Vi to get fidgety and Jayce to give an autograph to a passerby. Waiting is always the worst part, and chances are that the owner of Toxicity will let them in are about as high as that she won't allow it. Depending on how the planets are aligned in Vi's guess. One of the woman's more prominent flaws, and one of the reasons Vi does not look forward to seeing her again.

It's not that Jen is that bad, as far as people with their background go – not evil nor crazy, just... a shit person. Leaving Vi, possibly for the dead, along with the miners made the pinkette realize that with startling clarity. How did she fool herself into thinking the woman cared in the first place, Vi does not know.

"Come on," says the returning boy after passing a look with Mitch. And they silently follow, Vi managing to keep the pretense of being calm, while her friend visibly has trouble with it. Small wonder. It's not his sort of place, crowded, sweaty and louder than one's thoughts. The people here garbed in clothes neither formal nor expensive, most of them in varying state of intoxication, the only familiar thing must be the cigarette smoke although even that is in overabundance here, making the floor look almost as if mist has claimed it.

Vi smokes on occasion but even her throat feels dry after a moment of breathing the smoke clouds the patrons call air in here. She wonders how does the situation look upstairs, where Jen doubtlessly resides. The woman was trying to quit smoking the last she remembers. Vi chances a look upwards the rotund room, two- three floors with what must be a VIP section on the third. She can't imagine the one-way glass compartment serving any other purpose, the current owner always liked to have things under her control.

It takes a while to get to their destination, not because it's terribly far or because of any true obstructions. It's because of the mass of human (she can't spot a yordle, maybe they're not allowed) bodies, mostly women, but there is an occasional man in the mix, be it one of the fit dancers or their less muscled (and definitely more clothed) patrons.

She's given a dirty look by the bodyguards when they finally arrive at the third floor. What? Another bunch of blockheads she once beat? Wouldn't surprise her, she had to smash in more than a few faces a year ago when she joined up with the Force before they got the memo and stopped coming after her for her supposed "ratting out". No hard feelings for the most part. She made it out of their pisshole of a world and nobody can fault her for that. Still, a drink or two too many after one's friend is locked up and it's easy to decide on the most familiar thing to blame. Or it used to be that way, a few broken jaws made them reconsider. Who says violence doesn't solve anything?

The glass VIP compartment itself is surprisingly modest, merely a few leather couches arranged in a circle by the walls with strategically placed dim lights, bright enough to see the inside, but not enough to reflect in the glass as to disallow one from watching the club below. And a sight to see it is, the entire room is easily accessible to Vi's eyes and only now, from this place, does she notice a very specific design of the interior. Not a fortress per se but certainly enough to buy time to scram should the need arise.

Knowing Jen, there's a secret get-away too.

And there she is, the woman herself. Lazily strewn across the couch off to the left of the entrance, garbed in a dress that would not be out of place at one of the functions Caitlyn sometimes attends, dark violet and showing just enough skin to kick Vi's imagination off. Maybe not quite scandalous enough for some of the parties she knows Jayce to attend, but Vi is glad for it. Her legs are as long as they've stayed in her memory and the criminal looks better than ever, now that she let her jet black hair grow out into a bob.

"You've gone up in the world." Are the first words that leave Vi's mouth, a ball of lead forming in the pit of her stomach. Shit, she thought she got over it. She's certainly had enough time.

"As have you, just seems I've a better way," she replies in a raspy voice, the Enforcer thinks it's gotten more audible since they parted ways, looks like she hasn't quit smoking after all. "Care to introduce me to your dashing companion? We haven't had the misfortune, yet." Ugh...

"Jen, Jayce. Jayce, Jen." The woman sighs and sits up, annoyance touching up the corners of her dark crimson lips. A minute movement, enough for Vi to tense up despite her best efforts.

"Just ten seconds and you already 've me wondering why I let you in."

"I'll make it easy for you then. We've got business you really can't afford to pass up." She manages to sound much more confident than she actually feels.

"So I've figured." The club owner crosses her legs. For all his reputation, it seems that Jayce has less trouble ignoring the fact than Vi does. "Since you've made it abundantly clear you don't do social calls." The pinkette's lips twitch. She's not the one who cut all ties and they both know it. For the best, really, now that Vi looks back at what she and Jen had. It's not how it felt back then though. Mind games. A year has passed, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed.

The officer is about to respond when she feels Jayce's hand brush against her arm, the man himself slightly shaking his head. Fine, he can do this part. He's the one who knows all the details anyway.

"Miss Mevers-" Vi scoffs drawing a pained look from the establishment's owner. Mevers. Right. It's about as real as her own surname she supposes. "We wish to ask-"

"Cut to the chase. Normally, I'd never even let you in here," she points at his companion. "But I don't believe my darling would pay me this visit without a reason. Say what you've to say if it's so important."

"...alright." Vi isn't sure if her words are honest or only meant to put Jayce off, but if it's the latter, then it's working. "I stumbled across accounts saying that a Zaunite mercenary group received weapons, for which payment was filed under your name." She only rolls her eyes and lands them upon Vi, where her gaze remains when she speaks up.

"You've proof? Why are you here instead of mounting a raid then?"

"Because this is faster?" The younger woman answers in her friend's stead. "No raid, no lawyers, no case No mess."

"Maybe so. Sit." She motions them both to a couch to her right, so that she doesn't have to change her position to look at them. "And explain why should I care more about your investigation than about my bosses. I assume you've a good explanation."

They sit down together, Vi further away the other occupied couch. She wonders if all the seats are as hard as theirs - probably. Maybe for the guests' discomfort, maybe because Jen, like Vi, can't get used to soft furniture and simply prefers it like this. Vi remembers picking a mattress for her first very own bed. She eventually settled on one barely any softer than the ground beneath her feet.

"Do you know what were the weapons used for?" Asks Jayce.

"I've my suspicions. At a guess... University Massacre?" She says with a schooled, perfectly disinterested expression.

The duo exchanges a look.

"You don't sound particularly surprised." The man carefully ventures.

An unpleasant smile stretches across Jen's lips.

"You're not supposed to wonder but you always do. You coming here is confirmation enough." Of course she would know and do nothing. She does have a track record of not caring about the collateral in lives after all.

"So you understand why you should help us." Apparently, her scientist friend doesn't quite get it.

"Hm," The woman's gaze flickers to the door, where two of her bodyguards stand. "You're under the impression that I'm afraid of the Force more than I'm afraid of my superiors. I might hang for this, true." She reaches for the pack of smokes on the small table between the couches, only speaking up again when she puts a lit cigarette between her lips. "But I also might spend the rest of my life in prison. I think I like both of these better than being flayed alive." Vi winces, which group was it... Duponts? Yeah, it's them that skin their own for 'gross misconduct' - as they call it.

"I wouldn't be flayed alive but I'm not supposed to be here either, you know?" The pinkette tries.

"Oh? And that makes me care how?"

"Nobody would ever know." Jen's eyes flicker away from her guests and towards the door once again. "I want to take those mercs out on my own, maybe with Jayce here but that's it."

"And I'm supposed to trust you? You?" she scoffs. "Please." Urgh, she's almost forgotten how testing the woman can be. Almost.

"Sure, I mean- if you can trust I'll come back in force on official business if we don't come to some sort of agreement, then why not with that? You know, prison might not be as bad as flaying but I bet you'd prefer to stay free, and rich - instead of the off chance that you'd somehow escape before that." An outcome more likely than Vi cares to admit. The simple fact that the former street rat now stands in the glass cage of Toxicity, as its owner no less, speaks spades of Jen's capability.

The woman flashes Vi a smile so sweet that she must be hoping it won't be Vi's teeth that rot, but her insides.

"Escape? Hmpf, classic. You don't escape from Duponts." The woman blows the smoke from her lungs in her guests' direction. "Do you know how much time and effort I've put into getting where I am?" the Enforcer can't help but wonder if she's talking about her own or someone else's. The latter she'd bet.

"See, this is why I gave this game up. If I have to run, I put on my gauntlets and there, lets go! Nothing to hold me back" The older woman rolls her eyes.

"You're an inspiration to every ambitionless two-bit thug out there." Vi shoots Jayce a glare when he chuckles at the remark.

"Easier that way."

"Easier indeed." The criminal murmurs before shifting to a sitting position. "You still gamble?"

"What does-" Vi cuts off at the annoyed glare she receives. "Yeah, I do. Why?"

"I was thinking about my chances when going against the family – which are bad, I'll have you know. And about how I don't have life to spare to rebuild what I've to lose." She falls silent for a moment. "Well, that and the chances your deaths would not be tied to me." Vi's eyes narrow at the casual remark.

"These are some bad chances then Miss," throws in Jayce, his tone not quite jovial, but somehow, still relaxed. "You see, I put together a letter addressed to our good Sheriff, containing my plans for tonight, in a certain mailbox, before coming here. I believe we still have-" he ostentatiously checks the hour on his watch. "-some three hours before it will be picked up." Vi sends him a blank stare. Because really? If they don't catch this thing then it might be better if they're both killed here tonight. Caitlyn will be furious if the thing ever reaches her!

"Well, I do like to know where I stand," drawls their host. "How thoughtful of you to mention this before we act on impulse."

"Glad to be of help." Sometimes (sometimes!) Vi envies Jayce the smile he can pull off when faced with potential harm. Her own is nothing to scoff at but it's meant to intimidate. His though? His beaming grin is so full of shit that she has to wonder how has he not became a politician. It's a rare talent to convey one's glee coming from fucking with someone through smile alone.

Jen taps her free hand against her thigh. "You should learn from your friend Vi. He's better at this thing than you ever were."

"What? Planning?" Psht, as if she cares. Plans tend to fall apart at the first possible moment.

"Hmm. I meant staying alive actually, but yes, that too." She sighs, a thin trail of smoke escaping through her nose. "I don't think I like my options either way. I like living. Say, what are the chances Duponts have someone in Lockbox?" Vi grimaces. Because yes, in all likelihood, that's where the woman would go. And there is still a part of her that does not want to see her there.

"Doesn't matter. Nobody's ever getting out of there." She's answered with a raspy laugh.

"Of course not, I'm just wondering if I could live something resembling a life there if I don't end up on the noose. So, staff or prisoners?" More like both. Caitlyn purged the gangs' influence from the Force but while technically under her jurisdiction, prisons might as well be fiefdoms all of their own. With wardens ruling them in a manner not dissimilar from how the Sheriff governs the entire department.

"Look, I wouldn't know. Cait hanged the ones who were caught but I'm just not in the know." Really, why would she be? She punches things when needed, investigation is not really her thing and she certainly has no interest in the inner workings of Lockbox. There are no pleasant people there, criminals or otherwise.

Jen blinks, somewhat owlishly. "You work directly with the Sheriff."

"So?"

"I..." it's not often that Vi has had an opportunity to see the woman speechless, but here she is, eyes slightly widened and working her mouth as if trying to say the words that just won't come to her. "Nevermind."

"Do you want a statistic for this sort of thing?" asks the pinkette's friend. "Math doesn't lie."

"Pass, I know the numbers. They don't say everything." She looks up at the glass ceiling. A thoughtful expression pushing away the frustration painted on her face.

"Are you going to help us or not?" Vi interrupts her musings.

"I think..." Jen almost snarls. "That you've done a fundamental mistake coming here in the first place. And you-" she turns to the vigilante. "-just so you know, will be responsible for a few thousand people not getting their mail tomorrow, bluff or not."

Both Vi and Jayce shoot up from their seats the moment The woman shouts for her bouncers. The officer almost jumps at her, but is stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a small revolver in Jen's hand. Ugly old thing, the very same one from her and Jen's days together. She scowls and presses her back against her friend's who is readying for a fight as well, if what is about to come, can be called a fight. It's four men, and each armed with a baton. Vi recognizes the model from her time as a kid. Rubber, bone breaking stuff, they don't use them in police anymore because of that. One strike to her hand and she might never be able to tinker again, too little fine control should the hit break her fingers.

Martial arts her ass, she could take one, two would be a stretch, but still, maybe. But even with Jayce at her side, fighting four armed men without any weapon of her own is an impossible battle. She should have smuggled a knife in. Though, truth be told, that wouldn't help her much, half a meter of reach on those batons would still render a knife near worthless.

"Now, now – let's not be hasty!" Jayce exclaims, hands raised just high enough not to leave himself open to an attack.

"Oh, I've put plenty of thought into our talk, maybe you should've done the same." Jen cocks the safety of her gun back on, now that her guests are surrounded by her employees.

"You know you're fucking yourself over, right?" Vi addresses the woman. "People saw us enter, even if you get Jayce's letter."

"Can't be any worse than accepting your offer.." The club's owner calmly speaks as she lowers her weapon. "Get them."

The next few seconds are a blur. The bouncers rush forward and Vi manages to take one blow on her arm to block it from slamming into her face, and jumps out of way of another, one that would strike her stomach, likely disabling her from the fight. Not that it matters, the third hit lands on her back, throwing the pinkette to the ground. There is no escaping the fourth, which goes down on her head, knocking Vi's thoughts out of her skull.

She's uncertain as to whether or not she passes out after that. The state she finds herself in when solitary thoughts begin trickling back into her mind is certainly pointing to a yes. However short it must have been, since Jayce is still being tied up, unconscious. Seconds, no longer than a minute anyway. The Enforcer groans when the pain kicks in, yeah, a strike to the back of her head, just one, going by her experience with those. Even if it feels more like after taking a good old fashioned mob beating.

"Boss?" She cranes her neck upwards, confused as to why would the man speaking call her his boss. She might technically be a junior officer but that would mark the first time anybody called her that instead of... ugh, he's not police anyway. Why would he-

A woman comes into her line of sight.

Oh. Right, Jen.

Her forehead drops to the ground, a bout of dizziness overcoming her. Damn, if somebody were to move her right now she'd likely vomit.

"Send the word to Foxton," The woman's voice carries over the muted, thumping music of the club below. It strikes Vi as funny that here she is, at the mercy of one person she'd swore she'd never be at the mercy of again. And below her, people enjoy the show being put on by the dancers, oblivious to what's happening some fifteen meters above their heads. But hasn't it always been that way? Shit happening just beyond one's wall without anyone ever noticing? "You, back to the entrance, Maks, go get bags-" a shiver tuns through Vi's spine at the words. "-breathable ones. Get to it." Rushed footsteps, and then silence.

A tired sigh sounds in the almost silent room. A few sharp heel clicks later, Vi's head is abruptly pulled upwards by her hair. It almost doesn't hurt, honestly, the tightness that surfaces in her chest when she's forced to look at the woman is far worse. She resists the urge to flinch away from the thumb stroking her cheek.

"Relax." Jen's raspy whisper does anything but help her in doing so, not that she can go more tense than she already is. "Now listen, and carefully since we've little time before my bouncers get back. The name you're looking for is Foxton." The Enforcer's eyes widen, understanding dawning on her. A nasty smile spreads across Jen's lips. "Yes, sorry about uh- all this, but I'd prefer not to be immediately accused of treason. Now listen. Foxton's the one who's going to collect you, middle aged guy, balding, green eyes, on the scrawny side. Can't miss him, he'll be the one to question you after all." Her head is shoved back down and in the next moment, she can feel practiced fingers undoing her corset. Vi shudders at the memory of these fingers.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't shove my shank up your ass by accident." And indeed, she can feel something cool being pressed against her back to be squeezed under her corset when the woman laces it up again.

"Oh. One more thing. Kill him once you're done. It's only fair to repay a favor with a favor."

Jen has always had a curious idea of what a favor looks like.

"Don't forget." Is the last thing Vi hears before a wet rag covers up her mouth, with the haze of sleep following soon after.

Holy shit, took a while. But I finally got something I can look at without scowling.

Funny thing is, I've had the chapter almost ready for like 2 months, but could not give it any polish.