Chapter 3

Like many nights, I spent the rest of that night in my workshop, fiddling with my bike. The only difference this time was that I had Gnar crawling around the room, fiddling with bits of the bike and various little doodads I had lying around. Fortunately for him about ninety-nine percent of the stuff he messed with didn't work, but occasionally I noticed him fidgeting with parts of a gun or the chainsaw attachment for my gauntlets that I'd been tinkering with last Harrowing and I had to yank him away before he hurt himself. Once I had ran interference enough times I got wise, and after pulling key parts out of anything remotely dangerous I felt comfortable enough to relax, and with that relaxation came sleep.

The next morning, I quickly realized that Gnar seemed content sticking to me like glue. I woke up with him nuzzled by my arm on the small mattress in the corner of my workshop, he sat with me while I ate breakfast (and yeah, he got a bit of food from it, I'm not a monster), and the little guy even tried to get in the shower with me. Now, granted, he hadn't shown any sign of yordle-like intelligence yet, and granted, it had been a long time since someone had wanted to… well, anyways, I wasn't about to let that happen. Despite his babbling protests, he sat at the door outside the bathroom while I showered and changed. After meeting that skeevy rat bastard Teemo, I can never be too sure in my privacy.

Gnar didn't seem too enamored to get on my bike- I didn't think too much of it at the time, but the little guy spent the initial ride from the Academic district down to the station and then to my place pretty much stuck to me, likely out of fear. He squealed with surprise when the bike roared to life, but hesitantly latched himself onto my arm and crawled up to a spot on the bike's second seat before he seemed to relax and adapt to the rumbling machine. I started off slow, and while it got him on edge again, by the time I was on a main street he seemed to realize that the bike wasn't going to grow teeth and try to eat him anytime soon.

We drove at a leisurely pace through the streets of Piltover for a little over half an hour- the Academy wasn't going anywhere and with Caitlyn back I wasn't needed at the precinct, so there was no reason to hurry. Cruising through Piltover is always an interesting pastime just because, with a city packed with amateur inventors and scientists among the average people, you're always bound to see something interesting. Gnar shifted on the seat and twisted his head around as we drove, trying to take in just about everything he could, his little nose twitching wildly in an attempt to soak up as many scents as he could.

As I was in a mood to oblige him, I decided to stop at a small market going on in one of the merchant's squares. It was like a cultural and ethnical melting pot- a noble-looking Ionian sold finely-crafted silk clothes next to a man from the icy north of Freljord who was selling dairy goods, kept from perishing in boxes surrounded by icy crystals which seemed altogether too dry and un-melted to be natural in the summer heat. I had been around these sorts of markets before, but not in an unofficial capacity- despite Piltover's low crime rate, tech was sold here among the merchants, and that meant the odds of black market sales in some of the stalls was higher than you'd think. I'm sure I looked a bit strange, walking through the market with a chattering yordle holding my hand, but I saw more recognition than confusion. I'd been on both sides of the law around some of these people- I used to steal from merchants like these guys for food as a kid, and once I'd turned my life around we had come down once or twice to arrest black market dealers. I should have expected it, honestly- it's hard not to be recognized when you tattoo your name on your cheek.

Eventually I found someone I recognized back, and the recognition put a wide smile on my face. "Qarif!" I shouted, waving my free hand as I made my way through the crowd towards his booth. Qarif'Ahib was a fifty-something-year-old man with round features and a rounder belly who somehow managed to have a permanent tan. His face was mostly smooth with the exception of a small black goatee he kept curled, and his features were often described as 'jolly' and 'friendly', as fit his personality. He wore humble robes with a colorful shawl draped around his neck, and he, like his booth, smelled of freshly baked breads and spices. His family was originally from a nomadic tribe based on the outskirts of the Shurima desert, but he and his wife and children had relocated to Piltover and settled down here years before I was born. Qarif was a good cook and a fantastic human being, and had cared for me many times when I was cold, hungry and alone. In return, I had protected him and his family whenever things got bad. I take my debts pretty seriously when someone's earned my trust and respect.

Qarif glanced up at the sound of his name and noticed me almost instantly, his mouth splitting in a way that showed he had a lot of practice smiling. "Vi!" he said with jovial delight, "It's been so long!" He stepped around the corner of his booth as I made my way over, and before I could respond he grabbed me in a dear friend's hug, the kind that squeezes the life out of you in a way that's painful but enjoyable. "You look well, how have you been?"

Once he stopped pushing my ribcage into my lungs, I wheezed out "Good, and you?"

"I am well," he responded, his face never losing the smile, "And who is your friend?"

Gnar looked up at the man with a face full of confusion. "Oh, this is Gnar," I said in response, stepping an inch away to give the yordle some space. Gnar immediately moved closer to me, one arm wrapped around my leg. "Sorry, it's not you, he's just not much of a people person right now."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Qarif replied, his good mood not wavering, "Perhaps he is hungry?"

That got me interested. Qarif was a baker, one of the best I knew, and moreover he was an experimenter, like a lot of the people in this city. "What's on the menu today?"

Qarif's round eyes lit up even more, which I didn't think was possible. "Oh, allow me," he said as he headed back around to the booth, "I've made something I think you'll definitely enjoy. Please, sit down, relax." I did as he said, plopping down in one of the chairs on the side of the booth. Gnar hopped into one of the others and stood in it, his hands on the countertop as he used his eyes, ears and nose to inspect the place. The booth wasn't huge, but Qarif used the space well- everything was organized and clean, and the stovetop oven in the corner was large enough to cook for two or three people without needing more space. The street-facing side of the booth held a few racks with loaves of fresh bread on them, the scent wafting through the streets and likely drawing eyes if not customers. As he worked away, I decided to make small talk. Not one of my strong suits, but Qarif knew that and didn't mind.

"How's the family?" I asked him after a moment of silence.

"They are doing quite well," Qarif said as he reached into a small cupboard under the countertop and slapped a couple of hefty steaks onto the stove-top grill. My mouth watered and I had a feeling if I didn't keep track of Gnar he'd make a move for the meat, cooked or not. "My son wishes to continue the family business instead of studying. I told him he is in the best place in the world to pursue a dream in science, if he did not go for it then all of the meat I have fed him likely went to his head."

"I dunno," I responded, "We have a surplus of scientists around here, but not enough people making food that doesn't taste like it was made in a lab."

Qarif laughed, a hearty sound that resounded with satisfaction. "Do not give him any ideas." He flipped the steaks and the sizzling sound almost made me forget the conversation completely.

"Have you heard from the tribe?" I continued, forcing myself not to drool. In my efforts to pay attention to the conversation, I noticed a pang of sadness cross over Qarif's face.

"Not lately," he responded with a bit of hesitation, his voice still happy but lacking the jovial glow from before. "I'm sure they are fine, but it's been quite some time now."

"When was the last time you spoke with them?" I asked.

"Last summer," he responded, and I could see his mood fading. Crap, way to go, Vi. Master conversationalist, watch and learn, kids.

"Sorry," I said with a noticeable undertone of regret.

"It's quite alright," he responded as he reached over to the rack and got a loaf of his fresh bread, the scent of which brought to mind all sorts of childlike joys. He grabbed a long, grooved bread knife and began to cut slices. "I'm sure I'll hear from them soon." He finished making the meal in silence, and only as he was assembling the sandwiches did I see his features brighten again. "Until then, eat. Be happy." He handed one plate to me and another to the yordle and I had to fight to keep from shoving my face directly into it and working my jaw until the whole thing was gone. Gnar had no such reservations, and the fervor with which he tore into the sandwich made Qarif laugh.

I took a bite, and immediately lost track of the world around me long enough to drown in the flavor. I felt my eyes close and my head tilt back, but let it happen as I got lost in the flavor. The steak was piping hot, but juice oozed every time I chewed it and the meat melted in seconds flat. Whatever it had been marinated in tasted of garlic and other spices and was absolutely divine, the sort of stuff you'd expect from an upscale restaurant. The leafy greens with the meat were a perfect duet, a bit of texture and freshness that clashed with the raw flavor of the steak, but in just the right way to not have one overpower the other. Between the two was a sauce, something spicy and savory but at the same time packed with a bit of subtle sweetness, balancing itself out perfectly. But the degree to which the bread outshined everything else in the sandwich was something it's difficult to accurately describe. The sourdough- at least, that's what it started as- crunched as I bit into it, but the inside was perfectly soft and malleable in my mouth, melding with the meat in flawless harmony. I tasted flecks of spice- rosemary and garlic- and it served to improve the flavor to the point where I wanted to sit down with a loaf and just gnaw at it until it was gone. "You are a god among men, Qarif," I said as I came back to reality.

Qarif, who had been watching my reaction, chuckled a satisfied chuckle and put one hand casually on the counter. "Tell that to my wife, maybe she'll listen to you."

We finished the food with light conversation interspersed throughout- I don't remember much of it, but to be fair, I was in sandwich heaven at the time. "What's the damage?" I asked as I stood up from the chair and fished in my back pocket for some money.

"No charge," Qarif said, his smile faultlessly friendly.

"Aw, don't do that," I said with a smile. I appreciated his gesture, but we'd done so many favors for each other that I'd long since lost track of the score and defaulted to 'I owe you one'. "Name your price."

"Well," he said slowly, really stretching the word out. "I wasn't going to bring this up, but…" He lowered his voice, glancing around quickly to make sure no one was listening in. The combination of the two was enough to set me on edge before he even finished speaking. "There's been trouble in the market the last couple of days. A pair of men have been coming around, talking about protecting us. I've seen them bullying Quan-chi and threatening to tear up his fabrics."

My expression went from friendly joy to sobering seriousness in a fraction of a second. "Describe them."

"I-It's not a major issue," he stammered, "I'm sorry I brought it up. Honestly, Vi, it doesn't-"

I cut him off when I slammed a fist into the counter getting up. My fingers clenched enough for my knuckles to whiten. Cop or not, I didn't tolerate bullies, whether criminal or child. Period. "Describe. Them." He did, and I nodded slowly, a grimace stretching my face. I had dealt with these guys before. Apparently they hadn't learned their lesson. "Alright," I said after he was done. "Watch Gnar for me, I'll handle this."

Before he could protest I left, returning to the crowd to find a good spot to look. Eventually I found it- a shaded corner overlooking most of the square, the kind of spot not many eyes would be drawn to. Perfect for what I was going to do. With anger slowly simmering inside of me, I stood at that corner and I waited. After about ten minutes I spotted them moving through the crowd. Two men, both the type of person I would have idolized years ago, which meant they were scum. One was short and stocky, built like an ox with its face bashed in, while the other was lanky, very tall, and had features whose shape brought to mind sharp edges and knives. I didn't know their names, but thanks to one man's overgrown facial hair and another's missing eye, I named them Scruffy and Patches in my head. Hey, my nicknames can't all be gold.

I moved from my spot into the crowd, weaving my way as quickly as I could until I reached the two. They were walking side by side, so I stepped up behind them and casually slapped a hand on each of their shoulders and spun them around (easy for Scruffy, not so much for tall ol' Patches). "Afternoon, gentlemen," I said with a smile. I watched the recognition dawn on their faces and grimaces set in place.

"Evening officer," Scruffy said to me, his voice like sandpaper. "Whatcha need?"

"A chat," I replied, my smile faultlessly friendly. Man, my poker face is good when I'm angry. "What say you gents come with me down that secluded alley and we have a short discussion about what you've been doing around here?"

They got the idea pretty quickly, which meant they also realized this probably wasn't official police business, which meant they didn't have to lie down and take it in the eyes of the law. The two looked at each other and I could see the gears turning- two of them, one of me. The odds were in their favor, right? I was sure they were thinking back to the last time we'd had words, and how they'd love to get their revenge, either by beating the hell out of me or… Well, point was, they thought they had a good chance of beating me. I let them keep thinking that.

I nodded in the direction of the alley and the two headed that way. I let my hands slide off of their shoulders- no reason to make it easy for them to elbow me in the gut- and followed closely behind, checking the crowd to make sure no one got curious about what we were doing. We headed down the alley in silence- well, I was silent, and that let me hear them whispering to each other. Strategizing. Doubt it would matter anyways- there's a reason I'm a goddamn League champ and it's not because I made a set of cool gloves.

We reached the end of the alley and I smiled at each of them, although before I knew it my smile had faded into a mask of rage. "So let's chat, boys. I hear talk that you two are trying to scare some of the merchants around here. Trying to get protection money from them. Trying to abuse them." I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles popped. My voice was low, but shaking with anger and more importantly, pure and unfiltered hate. These guys were everything I could have become, every mistake I'd made times a thousand, and the worst part was that they loved what they did. No lawmaker on the face of Runeterra would take pity on them, and I sure as hell wouldn't either. "That's not gonna fly around here. You got anything to say for yourselves?"

Scruffy opened his mouth to speak, a bit of a smirk on his face, and I chose that moment to slam my left hook straight into his jaw. He stumbled backwards, taken off-guard. Patches, who had been paying attention and noticed my windup, took the initiative and swung at me, his arms lacking muscle but with an excess of reach. I ducked suddenly, my right hand reaching up so my fingers could latch onto his slender wrist, and used the motion of my duck to pull at him, twisting to my left until my back was to him and his forearm rested on my shoulder. Without warning I pulled as hard as I could, throwing my torso down towards the ground and letting physics work its magic. Patches tried to avoid being thrown, but I had predicted the punch too well, and he was too skinny to handle my strength. He flew over me and hit the ground hard, and I cocked back my left hand to dispatch him with a swift shot straight at his pointy nose.

I forgot about Scruffy. His fist slammed into the left side of my head, pushing me off of Patches and knocking me into the wall of the alley. It took me by surprise, and as a result it took me a bit to get my bearings again. I heard Scruffy's voice speaking. "You alright?" I heard a groan from Patches as he got to his feet, and then a chuckle from Scruffy. That wasn't good. I steadied my gaze on the two, scowling with hate. "Annoying little girl-" Patches began, but I lashed out with a hard kick to the shins before he could finish. I felt resistance and then a little bit of give as the bone cracked, and Patches screamed and stumbled backwards. Again the other one retaliated, and I pushed myself off of the wall with both hands and tumbled forward into a crouch, facing Scruffy with fire in my eyes.

The side of my face he hit me on was throbbing with hammerlike savagery, but I tried to shut it out long enough to take care of business. Scruffy growled and stomped towards me, arms outstretched to grab. I took a step back to get distance and when he went for the grab I pushed his arms aside, slamming a fist into his ribs as he passed. It didn't do much good. The stubborn bastard snarled and wheeled around, swinging his hand in a wild haymaker, but I sidestepped it, landing another left hook into his jaw. I could feel the bones in his face rattle, but the man kept coming. I took another step and felt my foot catch on something- as I looked down I saw Patches clawing at my boots, hissing violently with pain and fury. I tried to steady myself but didn't expect him to try to trip me up, and before I could regain my balance I hit the ground, landing on my side in an effort to keep from hitting my back. I scrambled to get to my feet but wasn't fast enough, and a steel-toed boot slammed into my side, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Lights popped into my vision as I coughed and sputtered, and I barely caught a glimpse of Scruffy winding up for another kick before it came. This time I grabbed at his foot, catching the blow in my arms and twisting as hard as I could until I faced him, my legs under me and my arms wrapped around his lower leg. I pressed my shoulder into his shin and pushed as hard as I could, and while he stomped his foot to the ground in an effort to prevent my force from unbalancing him, it had the opposite effect and made it a little easier for me. As he fell I felt clawing fingers grabbing at my legs again, and I glanced back to see Patches scrabbling towards me on the ground, spewing profanities with murder in his eyes. I grimaced and mule-kicked out with one foot, slamming it square into his face. I felt his nose crunch under my boot and his grip loosened, giving me the chance to scramble over to Scruffy before he could get to his feet.

"Goddamn-" Scruffy started, but I slammed a fist into his stomach and twisted it, knocking the breath out of him. I straddled his stomach and swung, landing blow after blow at his face and neck and twisting his head this way and that. Rage clouded my thoughts as I held the criminal at my mercy, and the blows sounded hollow and wet as blood coated my hands and the dirt around his twisting head. After losing count of how many times I'd hit him I stopped, my hands pulsing with ache and wet with blood. I could feel a few cuts on my knuckles from his teeth, one of which lay on the ground next to him. I paused for a moment, letting my chest heave with effort, and listened. I could hear wheezing breaths, accentuated by the occasional cough, which told me I hadn't gone too far, not that anyone would miss these scumbags if I hadn't. Behind me I heard Patches sputter, and his voice rose with angry, pained tremors.

"DAMN YOU!" he screamed, acid dripping from his words. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU BI-" he started, but I kicked at his stomach and the words turned into a fit of pained coughing. I knelt down in front of him, grabbing his face with one hand as I brought it within a few inches of mine.

"If I ever see you two in this town again," I said slowly and calmly, the exhaustion in my voice hidden under an ocean of boiling hatred, "There won't be enough of you left for a body bag." His eyes widened in fear and I let go, letting his head flop down into the dirt, his wide eyes staring at his incapacitated friend. I left the alley without looking back and stopped at the mouth, wincing as the adrenaline slowly began to fade and remind me of the damage I'd sustained. My stomach rolled, and I fought to keep the food down, and after a moment I felt in control of my bowels so I pushed myself off the wall and made my way back into the crowd.

About a minute later, I returned to Qarif's booth. "Problem's solved, Qarif." I said resolutely, but edged with exhaust and pain.

He looked at me and sighed. "Are you alright?"

I took stock of myself. I had taken a real good hit to the face, so I probably had a black eye growing on me, but other than that, some battered ribs, and reddening bruises and cuts on my knuckles, I had come away from it without anything broken or seriously damaged. "I'm fine," I said calmly. "The other guys, not so much."

"You're bleeding," he said as if it was the most obvious thing he had ever seen and I was completely oblivious.

I gave him a quizzical look and glanced down at my hands. "That's not mine."

Qarif shook his head and grabbed a small towel. "No, here," he said as he reached over and wiped at my forehead, just above the un-blackened eye. Pain flared up in the side of my face and I grunted shortly, but he wiped some more and drew away the towel, blotches of bright red staining it. I hadn't even felt a cut, let along the blood on my face. Must have happened when my head hit the wall of the alley, which meant the fight could have gotten much nastier.

"Thanks," I said, and looked down to Gnar. The yordle was still sitting in his seat, gnawing away at a large bone, pleasantly unaware of the world around him. "He hasn't caused any damage?"

"None physically," Qarif replied, a grin cutting through the sour mood in the air, "But the things he said about my mother…"

"Har har," I replied, "He doesn't even speak Common."

"You know, I noticed that," Qarif replied as he looked at the yordle. "I even tried an old Shuriman tongue. Whatever he speaks, it's either obscure or very old."

I frowned in thought. "Then it's good that we're taking him down to the Academy, figure out where he's from."

"The Academy?" Qarif asked, confused. "You mean you didn't hear? After the attack yesterday they closed up. A scientist stopped by and mentioned it, said they didn't want the 'best and brightest' all in one place if something like that creature came back."

My eyes widened, and when I realized what that meant I swore under my breath. "There goes that plan. Well, I'll figure something out." I picked up Gnar, still chewing happily on the bone, which seemed more difficult than usual due to his oversized lower teeth, and gave Qarif a short wave. "I'll stop by again sometime, okay?"

Qarif's smile grew back onto his face. "And it will be an absolute pleasure," he responded.

We made it back to my bike and I sat Gnar on the second seat, thinking about what we could do in the meantime. With the Academy closed, many of the yordles would be at home with their families, sequestered away in their labs, or both at the same time. Probably all of them, really. Except…

As an idea dawned on me I started the bike with a smile on my face, mapping out the route to my destination in my head. Thank the gods for hot rods.