Summary: What if Vi didn't participate in the mine heist and never met Caitlyn there. How would those two's paths cross then? Would they even meet at all?
Tags: Vi, Caitlyn, Drama? I can't tell because I have no feelings.
"Come on…" A certain pink-haired gang member mumbles distractedly as she attempts to repair a stolen air-filtering unit set on her workbench, sparks flying about the dimly lit room as the tattooed crook tries to modify the damaged circuits of the rusted machine with the aid of a makeshift welding torch. 'Torch' being a generous word for the contraption of course, since the welding torch clenched in-between Vi's bandaged hands was in reality nothing more than a commercial Hex-tech pen with an upped energy output. Placed precautious far away from the edge of the young criminal's workbench a pathetic excuse for an antique transistor keeps alternating between posh instrumental songs and emergency news broadcasts from the heart of Piltover.
-It's been less than two weeks since the Sheriff's abrupt disappearance and the crime rates in both Piltover and Zaun have evidently skyrocketed as predicted by the-
Vi snorts as she switches off her makeshift welding torch, raises her darkened goggles over her eyebrows and inspects the fused circuits with a critical eye before lowering her protective eyewear once again with an agitated growl.
-Riots and protests seem to be taking place almost daily, the protesters demanding the return of Officer Caitlyn Remington with the PPD appearing incapable of resolving the issue. Returning back to our original story, the authorities are still baffled by the Sheriff's sudden disappearance and suspect foul play. "The Zaunite Chem-Baron's are probably involved." Confidently comments commissioner Cogwheel when asked to share his thoughts about the subject-
The pinkette's leg taps at the dusty floor underneath it excitably as Vi continues tinkering with the stolen air purifier in front of her, the tattooed woman's tongue comically peeking out from the corner of her mouth in immense concentration as flashes of light flare and then fade. Blinding sparks being reflected against the dark surface of Vi's steampunk welding goggles like shooting starts beautifully traversing across the cloudless night sky.
-"I want to see my little girl return home safely." Says Mrs. Remington in an exclusive interview for Smog-Breather. "This corrupt city can burn down to the ground for all I care, I just want my Caitlyn home safe and sound!" Mr. Remington has swiftly intervened to put an end to the interview after that statement, however. "Please, forgive my wife's outburst. Of course we care about what happens to Zaun and Piltover," The patriarch of the Remington family stated firmly as he ushered us towards the door. "My wife is still mourning the loss of our little girl. Karol you see, doesn't want to believe that our Caitlyn isn't alive-
The quick tapping against the floor turns into irritable stomping when the Hex-tech device in front of Vi suddenly expels a thin thread of black smoke along with the distinct scent of burnt electronics and hisses like a coiled snake.
"Cog dammit!" The pinkette exclaims as she tiredly reclines back in her chair and sets her welding torch and welding goggles on top of the messy grey workbench. And that was her last Hex-stabilizer too! Now Grax would pester her about being a burden to the rest of the crew and threaten to throw her back in the streets where the gang leader had originally found her.
And the cruel bastard would do it too, at a moment's notice! Except… if Vi somehow managed to solve the problem by herself, before Grax realized that she had messed up the job she had been tasked with.
'Hey, weren't there a few Hex-stabilizers in the gang's storage room?' Vi mentally wonders.
The tattooed pinkette's eyes narrow in thought as Vi attempts to place all the things that she and her fellow goons had stolen from Hex-tech workshops and stripped off old malfunctioning machines that were thrown away by their owners. Some of the goods would be so utterly trashed that were sold to junkyards as scrap metal, others were simply repaired and then bought by second-hand shops. What little remained after that was stored away in the basement to be later used as spare parts, unless some gullible customer or odd collector appeared to purchase them.
"Let's see…" The brash pinkette mutters in thought. "The service drones we got last week are no good, the parts taken from the prosthetics shop would be incompatible.. Hmm…" Vi's sky blue orbs close until they are two twin azure slits gazing at the ceiling. "What was it that Grax and the others had stolen last week again?" Vi couldn't remember for the death of her since she had been busy repairing things and sorting through Hex-tech equipment after being placed in tinkerer duty for an entire mouth or so.
"Didn't we have a box of various odds and ends somewhere in the basement, anyways?" The image of a medium-sized cardboard box finally resurfaces in the rebellious pinkette's mind.
Still uncertain, but filled with hope for once Vi gets up from her raggedy seat and leaves her bedroom, heading for the rickety staircase that was located near the entrance of the gang's hideout. The position of the storage room had been a strategic one after all, ensuring that the loot would be able to be transferred quickly in case of a sudden PPD raid.
Even better, the basement was connected with the sewer network via a reinforced door that was always locked. Vi would know, since she had been charged with making sure that the emergency exit was shut airtight and that none of the toxic fumes coming from the sewers would seep through from under the door's crack and kill them all in their sleep, for the first four years after her joining Grax's crew. Good times…
The cold fluorescent lamps above her head come into life with a startled buzz as Vi slowly makes her way towards the basement of the hideout. The pinkette's surprisingly light footsteps, muffled by a life of trying to avoid detection from police officers, crooks and potential pickpocketing targets alike, echoing softly in the relative silence of the abandoned rundown staircase. Vi absentmindedly wonders if the heist at the mines is going according to plan as she unlocks the door and enters the storage room with an annoyed bored sigh.
"Damn Grax and his arrogant ass, stealing the power crystals from those mines was my plan all along, I should be taking a part in the heist, not spend my time fucking fixing ovens and toasters."
The pinkette's voice abruptly fades when Vi turns the lights on and sees the collapsed figure that's lying on the floor. Sky Blue eyes widen in shock when they meet those weak and unfocused brown orbs, her mouth gaping open when the frothing handcuffed police officer's gaze mindlessly sinks back to the concrete ground.
"W-what the actual fuck?" The violent gang member stutters in a surprised whisper as she hastily approaches the shivering brunette woman that's lying on the floor. Vi recognizes her immediately from her missing posters.
The trembling Sheriff of Piltover is still wearing her signature purple dress even though it is torn and ruined beyond repair. Stained with blood, vomit, sweat and Cogs know what else, the Sheriff's bruised face is resting against the basement's dirty floor. Caitlyn's expression exhausted and visibly dazed, vacant, drool and some kind of froth slowly dripping down from the corner of the barely conscious woman's mouth. Caitlyn seems to have some trouble breathing.
It is only after Vi is close enough to take a look at the filthy tearstained face of the brunette policewoman and starts checking the captured Piltovian for wounds that she comes across the abundance of fresh needle marks littering the drugged quivering woman's bare arms. As if on cue the battered Sheriff starts hurling on the floor before releasing a hoarse and pained groan.
Vi's hands ball up into fists that are tightening considerably the more the impulsive pink-haired street rat is staring at the drugged seizuring Sheriff. Stormy aquamarine orbs focused intently on the dirt-caked face of Piltover's missing beacon of hope. Meanwhile Caitlyn just coughs and shivers weakly.
The female pinkette rascal hesitates for only a moment before she kneels down and carefully lifts the disoriented brunette woman from the vomit-covered floor. Dazed brown orbs minutely sway upwards to meet Vi's gaze.
"You so owe me one, Cupcake." Vi mutters irritably spiting out the last word as she proceeds to carry Caitlyn out of the depressing storage room. The Sheriff moans something inaudible before she promptly passes out with her head resting against Vi's chest.