Tags: Caitlyn, Vi
The pitter-pattering of the falling raindrops against the windshield is muffled considerably from the glass and the durable alloys that are surrounding her before the residue of the muted sound has the chance to reach Caitlyn's ears. The brunette Sheriff of Piltover glances at the line of immobilized hex-mobiles in front of her on the road and then turns the engine off with a faint resigned sigh.
It was a well-known fact that it didn't rain much in Piltover. The scientists and inventors inhabiting the city were too concerned about the wellbeing of their experimental machinery and too protective of their malfunctioning prototypes to allow something as simple as rain to interfere with their scientific researches.
Flying drones equipped with humongous turbines were daily deployed to patrol the sky, dissecting the clouds with their powerful propellers, while farther away from Piltover automatic countermeasures would bombard the rainclouds with dry ice forcing the clouds to drop their life-giving payloads before officially being accepted into Piltovian jurisdiction.
Hex-machines were new ground even for the crafty Piltovian folk, however. Sometimes a circuit would short-circuit, a warning light bulb would burst or an artificial hex-core would run out of juice during the cloud bombardment process. Sometimes raindrops would wash away the dirt off the rooftops of the great city and remind the Piltovians that they were still mere humans.
The power-lines on the streets and highways of the big grey human nest would go offline then in order to avoid damaging the energy network and prevent accidental power discharges. Without the extra kick of the power-lines' energy to augment the mediocre output of the lesser hex-cores powering their vehicles, the ingenious citizens of Piltover were compelled to wait the rainstorm out inside their silent casks of miserable molded steel and ponder on their insignificance.
Personally, Caitlyn didn't really mind the rare sight of fleeting raindrops reaching her city at times. The trouble the occasional rainstorm caused was a necessary evil, but much like herself it also served a greater purpose as it fried unsuspecting wandering robots and destroyed spinning cobalt dishes or created all kinds of static in most communication channels and devices.
The rainwater washed away the accumulated layers of chemicals and soot that clung on the buildings after being wafted there by the research laboratories of Zaun, down below. It filled the water tanks that were fitted inside the abyssal walls of the great chasm and after some careful purification the gathered raindrops also provided both of the gargantuan city-states with precious drinking water.
Unbeknown to most people the intruding and, oh so damnable rain clouds unwittingly provided the Zaunites and Piltovians with a healthier life and a relatively cleaner living environment for them to tinker with their ingenious creations. All of these valuable benefits for nothing but a few minutes or sometimes short hours of outdoor power distribution inconvenience whenever such a thing even happened.
Caitlyn considered it a fair trade.
"It's raining… I would have thought that you guys would have made your city rainproof by now with all the gizmos and eccentric sentient robots that are parading on the streets like they own the place."
Caitlyn hums as she directs her attention to the separated back compartment of her police cruiser, glancing at the speaker through the reflection in the vehicle's front mirror. The pink-haired crook that is sitting in the back of the hex-car is simply looking outside at the falling raindrops with a reserved expression worn on her melancholic tattooed face. The criminal's handcuffs momentary shine brilliantly as a lone thunder far away splits the black blanket of the upset sky apart. All color seemingly receding from the illuminated cityscape of Piltover.
"Me too.." The Sheriff lightly admits as the brunette policewoman's thoughtful brown orbs naturally gravitate back toward the blocked off road and the lifeless machines that are silently lying in wait.
"Perhaps some things are just not meant to be, I suppose." Caitlyn muses softly after a while and the pinkette in handcuffs snorts from the back of the slumbering hex-mobile, her fatigued gaze wandering back to the abundance of little transparent raindrops that are sliding down the glass of her reinforced window.
"Perhaps.." The quiet pinkette finally mutters in grudging agreement after a minute or two, her voice barely audible over the sound of the falling rain.