Down.

Down.

Down.

The wind and mist whistled and screamed past Katya and Silco's ears as they fell toward the water. Both their voices were caught in their throats, fear gripping too tight to allow for screams. Cold cut their cheeks and their eyes watered as they neared the river's surface. It had been fortunate that the airship had not been able to gain much altitude during their time onboard. Otherwise hitting the water would've been a fatal affair; now, it would only hurt.

Katya maneuvered in the air, letting go of Silco's hand to adjust her pack and to get into a diving position. She didn't see if Silco did the same. Her heart leapt to her throat as the Pilt's black surface approached quickly. She closed her eyes and felt the cold, hard slap of water as she dove beneath the surface. The river rushed in her ears and sliced at her skin as it swallowed her up. Next to her, she felt the pull of a current as Silco's body was drawn under. It was utterly disorienting, and her hands thrashed out, reaching for him. It seems he had the same thought, as his own fingers scrabbled at her clothes. They found each other in the murk, and swam furiously for the surface.

They broke through the water, gasping. The soaked masks made breathing even harder and Katya ripped hers from her face, gulping in the glorious night air. She spun around and found Silco treading water in a panic, his eyes wide. Katya reached over and pulled his mask down. He gasped and splashed. They spun in the river and looked up. The airship was fully engulfed in flames and descending rapidly. Debris fell off it as it crashed toward the Piltovan shoreline. Shards of burning wood and metal raining from the sky. Suddenly, something on the back end exploded. Both Katya and Silco jumped.

"We need to get to shore!" she yelled. "Come on!"

Without waiting for a response, she began swimming as fast as she could toward the Undercity's side of the Pilt. Her heart pounded as she cut through the water, throwing her arms over her head in strong strokes. The water sluiced over her, smooth and chilled. She turned her head to one side and sucked in a breath. Stroke. Turn. Breathe. Stroke. Turn. Breathe.

Belatedly, she realized she no longer sensed Silco beside her. She couldn't feel his movements through the water. Stopping, she turned and looked for him. It would've been funny if the situation wasn't so dire. Silco paddled after her, a splashing mess. His neck jut out over the surface, his chin tilted up to avoid water getting in his face. His hands clawed inefficiently forward, and his short, flailing kicks did little to propel him.

In three, smooth strokes, Katya darted back to him.

"Give me your bag."

Without arguing, Silco unslung it from around his neck and handed it to her. She hurriedly secured it around her back, both bags packed tightly to her hips like a bustle. She began to swim again, her form made awkward by the additional bag. She still swam faster and better than Silco, although he did not fall as far behind.

Katya did not let herself look at the shoreline in front of her, fearing that if she did, her body would lock up in fear at the distance. She waited until her hands dug through mud, rocks, and silt before looking up. A relieved cry exploded from her lungs, and brackish water filled her mouth. She coughed and sputtered as she threw herself onto the shore. With the safety of earth beneath her, Katya's body finally let the pain of the fall and ache of the sprint register. Her skin, lungs, and limbs burned. Her arms and legs trembled as she tried to clamber across slick rocks.

Behind her, Silco scrambled ashore. His hands slid underneath Katya's armpits and he hauled her up the bank.

"I got you," he wheezed. "Come on. We need to get away from the river."

Katya nearly cried as she was lifted to her feet. She staggered after him, her hand squeezed tightly in his. They climbed up the embankment, finally stopping when the rocks grew tall and could hide them from view. The pair flopped to the ground, resting their backs against a boulder as they panted and gasped for air, their ribcages swinging wildly.

"You're not hurt are you?" Silco finally asked once his lungs no longer burned.

Katya gulped and shook her head. She placed a hand over her heart. It thundered beneath her palm. Both from exertion and panic. "Are you hurt?"

"Hitting the water hurt, but I think I'm okay."

Katya nodded. After a beat, she unlooped the bag straps from her torso and opened them. Gold glittered up at her, and relief wracked through her soaked frame. At least they had gotten their boon.

"I'm impressed that you were able to swim so quickly weighed down like that," Silco mused.

Katya sniffed and pushed her dripping bangs off her forehead. Next to her, he had unbuckled and unlaced his boots. He turned them over in his hands and dumped river water onto the sand. He took his socks off next and wrung them out.

"My parents taught me how to swim when I was little," she explained between breaths. She glanced sideways at him, thinking of his furious but inefficient paddling. "Do you not know how to swim, Silco?"

Even in the dark, she could see an embarrassed red flush color his cheeks, complimenting the chilled pink tips of his ears.

"I suppose it depends on what you mean by swim," he grumbled. "I can not drown."

"How can you not know how to swim?" Katya asked, bypassing his technicalities. "You live in a port city."

"I live underground," growled Silco, his brows dropping unamused.

Before Katya could respond, there was a crash of metal, splintering of wood, and roar of fire. They both ducked toward one another, Silco throwing his arms over both of their heads. When nothing happened, they slowly drew apart and peeked over the boulder.

Across the River, the airship had finally crashed into the cliffs of Piltover. A bright, hot orange ball of fire was snagged between a split of rocks, charcoal-black smoke billowing up toward the starry sky. Beneath the sound of screeching metal and screaming flames, the deep, repetitive drones of Piltover's sirens bled into the air.

"We need to get moving," Silco whispered.

Katya nodded in agreement as he slipped his socks and shoes back on. They hurriedly squeezed out their hair and clothes the best they could, before slinging the bags of Hexes back around their bodies, and stealing into the night.

It took a long time to get back to The Last Drop. While the airship had not gotten high, it had gotten a ways from port. Carefully, they climbed and hiked over rocks and through tidepools. Now that the adrenaline of the heist and escape was wearing off, both Silco and Katya's teeth chattered against the chilled whips of night air. Their wet clothes clung to their skin as if glued, and they shivered fiercely, rattling the coins in their bags. It took nearly an hour to get back to the docks. The dinghy they had sailed in was tied back to its pier. Relief settled over Katya's heart.

"They made it back," she breathed. Her lips were going numb.

Silco nodded. "Good. They had instructions to get back to The Drop. Regardless of what happened."

"We should get there, too. Make sure everyone knows we are okay," Katya chattered. Silco's stomach knotted, wondering how his mother was doing. "Plus, I am freezing."

"Me too. Let's go."

News of the airship crash seemed to have already crossed the Bridge. Even though Katya and Silco kept to the alleyways and darker streets, they still heard the Lanes talk. Trenchers in squares, marketplaces, in front of brothels, and leaning across balconies all sharing the rumor that an airship over in Piltover had caught fire and had crashed on their side of the River. Voices ranged from disbelieving, to fearful, to righteous.

It was after midnight before the lights of The Last Drop appeared. The sight, the promise of warmth and friends renewed their vigor and they rushed around the building for the back door. Silco forewent the special coded knock and simply threw the door open, ushering Katya inside.

He slammed the door shut, and cried out, "Mum! Vander!"

At once, the sound of chair legs screeching across the floor and shocked voices filled the backrooms. The door to Vander's apartment burst open and Enyd rushed out. She was pale, her eyes puffy and red; she threw herself at them both.

"You're okay, you're okay," she chanted in a weepy voice. She pulled back and took Silco's face in her hands. "You're not hurt?"

Behind her, Annie and Beckett followed, their eyes wide and faces ashen.

"Go get Vander," Annie ordered, and Beckett turned heel and ran for the bar.

"I'm fine. We're both fine," Silco promised, grabbing his mother's thin wrists. "We got the coin."

"I don't give a shit about that," she hissed fervently. "You're safe."

Enyd removed one hand from her son's face, and cupped Katya's cheek. "You're both freezing," she said, eying their blue lips and wobbling jaws. "Come. Come. We'll put more wood in Vander's stove."

As she began to guide them towards the apartment, Annie threw her arms around Katya's neck.

"I was so scared!" she cried. "I'm so sorry I was a jerk. I'm glad you're okay!"

Katya was stunned, unsure of what to do besides gently hold the young woman back.

"It's okay, Annie," she said.

"I can't believe what an ass I was! I'm so sorry – "

"Annie," Enyd called, kindly but firmly, "they need to get dry and warm. Come on."

Annie kept her hands on Katya as she ushered her and Silco along. They entered Vander's kitchenette, with the dining table they had sat around not all that long ago, when they had tried to convince Katya to join their cause. She hadn't noticed it then, but there was a small wood-burning stove tucked into a corner. Enyd dragged two chairs near it and gestured them over. All too happily, they both plopped into the offered seats, teeth chattering, limbs quaking.

"Annie, go grab some blankets from Vander's bedroom," Enyd ordered as she gathered an armful of split wood that sat in a basket near the door. "And some towels."

In a flash, Annie disappeared down an adjoining hall. Enyd opened the stove and tossed the wood inside. She fussed at it with an iron poker until the existing embers caught and flames began to lick their way up the sticks. She blew on the fire a few times, before coughing over took her and she closed the grate.

"Mum," Silco croaked. While continuing to cough, she had dropped to her knees and had begun to undo his boots. "Mum, just wait a moment."

He took a hold of her shoulders and she stopped her single-minded attentions, allowing her body to work through the fit. When it past, she shot forward and enveloped her boy in a tight embrace.

"I was so scared, so worried," she cried. "When Annie and Beckett came back without you. Without both of you – "

She peeled away from Silco enough to turn, and extended an arm toward Katya. The young woman reached forward and grasped at the connection offered to her, her youthful fingers wrapping around Enyd's cool and slightly gnarled ones.

Suddenly, Vander burst into the room, Beckett close behind. His silver eyes were wide and wild as they landed on Silco. He rushed forward – Enyd barely getting out of the way – scooping Silco up in a tight hold. The smaller man grunted as the air was pressed out of him.

"Fer fuck's sake, Silco!" Vander hissed into his neck. "You fuckin' scared us."

"Vander . . . this hurts," Silco wheezed, craning his head up and out of the embrace.

"Oh geez, 'M sorry."

Vander carefully lowered Silco back on his chair, his eyes roving over his Brother worriedly. Annie reappeared, her thin arms loaded with blankets and towels.

"We – we had to jump from the airship into the Pilt," Silco explained.

"Oh Janna," Enyd murmured, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"The landing hurt."

"We will probably be bruised tomorrow," Katya commented, gratefully taking a blanket from Annie.

"You two got back okay," Silco said, looking at Beckett.

The redhead nodded, his expression aggrieved. "We shoulda stayed. We shouldn't have left you guys alone – "

"You did exactly as I told you to do," Silco firmly said in a tone meant to wipe away any guilt the other felt.

"When we saw the airship catch fire," Annie whispered, her chin wobbling.

"We are fine," Katya insisted, grabbing her hand. Tears streamed down Annie's cheeks regardless. "We are fine. And we got what we set out for." She jerked her head toward the sodden bags left by the door.

"Vander, get them hot tea," Enyd ordered, dipping down to finish taking off their shoes and wet socks.

He did so, and Annie handed a blanket to Silco. He wrapped it around his shoulders, shivering. The heat pouring from the little stove was mighty, but had yet to touch the bone-chilling cold that wrapped both him and Katya up. His mother laid their socks in front of the hot iron, and stood, grabbing for the towels Annie brought. She covered each of their heads with them.

"Dry your heads."

"Becks, take the bags downstairs," Vander called over his shoulder as he readied the kettle.

"Right. C'mon Annie." He grabbed her hand, and the each took one of the bags and disappeared toward the basement.

Quiet fell onto the space, the only sound being the chattering of teeth, crackling flames, and the hiss of the stove as Vander set the kettle over a small, blue flame. Both Katya and Silco turned in, tucking themselves as tightly as they could toward the stove. Enyd fussed and fidgeted at her son's shoulder.

"Vander, do you have spare clothes for them? They will need to get out of these wet ones."

"Er – yeah. Yeah. On sec."

He seemed reluctant to pull himself out of the kitchen space, but he quickly trudged down the hall Annie had disappeared to get the blankets. He returned moments later with an armful of clothes. The kettle began to sing and he handed the items to Enyd before rushing back to the stove.

"Once you two are warmer, you'll put these on," Enyd said, shaking the large shirts and pants out. Her voice was quiet, as if she were mostly speaking to herself; to remind her that Silco and Katya were, in fact, here. That they were alive and needed tending to.

"Here," Vander said, coming around and handing each of them cups of steaming tea.

Katya groaned in relief at the feel of the warm ceramic under her numb fingers. She lifted the lip of the cup under her nose and let the heat of the beverage waft over her lips.

"I don' have any lemon right now," Vander apologized, a weak grin on his stubbled face.

"It is fine."

She took her first sip and shuddered at the juxtaposition of the hot liquid against her cold tongue. Silco did the same.

A while later, they decided they were warm enough to change out of their damp clothes. However, neither wanted to move too far from the fire. Katya decided to change first. Vander left the room and Silco ducked his head down, squeezing his eyes shut as she changed as quickly as she could. But her hands were still shaking, and it took longer to peel out of her clothes. Enyd held up a blanket around her, like a screen, to protect her modesty and ease her mind.

Once Katya was wrapped up in Vander's comfy, but too-big, clothes, she wrapped herself back up in her blanket. She called Vander back in as she closed her eyes and tucked her chin down. Enyd handed him the blanket and gathered up the empty teacups. Stomach tumbling and blush furiously creeping up the back of his neck, he held the blanket up for Silco to change behind, doing his best to keep his own gaze averted. However, his eyes betrayed him a couple times, and spied over the tattered hem of the blanket at the willowy cut of his Brother's body.

When Silco was dressed again and had sat back down, Vander cloaked him in the blanket and announced that he was going to head back to the bar for a bit. He shuffled out of his apartment, giving the three one last look before closing the door behind him. Enyd had taken to rustling through the kitchen, obviously still in need of something to do, lest she let her emotions run away with her. She settled on making soup. She had found a can in Vander's cabinets, along with a small, dented pot, and she set up shop in front of the cooktop. Katya and Silco remained huddled tightly against the small fire burning merrily.

After a few minutes, once it seemed the shivering and chattering had finally passed, once it felt like being warm again wasn't so far away, Katya's eyes tracked to Silco's sharp profile. He looked so serious and thoughtful now, the light and shadows of the fire jumping across his high cheekbones and blade-sharp nose. How different he looked now compared to when he had been struggling in the water.

"Silco," she whispered. His eyes cut to hers, the orange flame having eaten all the green ice out of them. "Would you like me to teach you how to swim?"

Several seconds passed as he carefully searched over her face. What he was looking for, she wasn't sure.

"Yes. I would like that."

Unsurprisingly, both Silco and Katya came down with colds the following day. Neither went home, Vander and Enyd setting up makeshift cots by the small stove that they kept hot and burning all night long. They packed the pairs' blankets with hot water bottles, and put many pairs of socks on their feet – but not before Enyd slathered their soles with a sharp smelling salve.

They sent tubes to the mines saying they would not be in due to illness. They received no push back, which was simultaneously relieving and worrying. Relieving so they could rest after their tumultuous night; and worrying because it meant that everyone's attention was elsewhere. On the airship crash. Katya, Silco, Vander, and Enyd all silently wondered how this accident would color the next movements of the revolution.

Instead of ruminating on that, the small woman ordered Beckett and Annie – who showed up to check on their friends the following day – to go to the market and fetch a sack of onions. When they returned with a twenty-pound bag of the dirty roots, Enyd snatched it up with strength that surprised them all and dumped about half of the onions into a large stock pot on Vander's stove. She filled it with water and set it to boil. Within the hour, the room smelled sharp and earthy. Everyone's eyes watered mildly, and the mucus clogging Katya and Silco's throats and noses began to loosen.

Through a hoarse voice, Katya instructed Annie on what medicines and tools to bring up from the basement. Silco stayed mostly quiet, every now and again mumbling about wanting a cigarette; something both Katya and Enyd chided him about.

Luckily, Katya and Silco's illnesses were quick to work their way through their bodies, and by the end of the week both were upright and mostly well. The Children gathered at The Last Drop a couple days later, everyone reporting news to each other of what was being said about the airship crash, and rumors of what was transpiring across the River.

Enforcers in the Lanes seemed distracted and more irritable.

"Bet they're not talking to them 'bout what's goin' on," an old miner said.

"Or," Sevika butt in, "they have a whiff of what's going on and their agitated that a Piltie committed a crime."

"We can' be worryin' too much about what-ifs n' speculation right now," Vander declared, his voice booming across the filled bar. "We hafta focus on what we can do next. We got the coin, n' have distributed it amongst a few trusted sources fer safekeeping 'til we can get our trade relationships goin', but the ship crashin' was not part of the plan."

"Even if it wasn't," Tolder guffawed, bouncing Lu on his knee, "seems fair for the Topside ship to go down. Too bad about the survivors."

Some of the crowd murmured and chuckled in agreement. Vander grimaced and looked off to the side where Silco and Katya stood. Silco's voice and throat were still on the mend, so he had opted to allow Vander and Benzo to handle the talking points. His thin face pinched at Tolder's comment. The crash had been an accident, and despite his distain for Topside, knowing that one of the crew members perished left him feeling . . . odd. Not wholly like himself. But satisfied.

Like the scales had tipped ever so slightly in Zaun's favor.

"Regardless," Benzo piped in, "we're atta crossroads here. We can't do this sneakily fer much longer."

Vander looked out at the sea of faces and felt a heavy wave crash over him. Perhaps for the first time, he truly understood the weight of what he and Silco had started. All of these faces looking to him for guidance, direction, answers; all of these faces – young, old, angry, hopeful, desperate – looking to him. His stomach swooped at the realization. All had been fine and doable when it was just him and Silco dreaming as youths behind a mine cart. It had even been okay when Benzo joined in, and a few others soon after. It seemed strangely unserious before that initial botched robbery. Vander felt his face beginning to flush. What a fool he'd been; he knew what this endeavor would entail, and he had not known at the same time. He supposed a part of him hoped that peace could exist in a vacuum; that they could achieve it with minimal trouble.

"When people look up to you, you do not get to be selfish. You do not get to speak so candidly. If you say run, they will. If you say swim, they will dive into the River. If you say you want a fire, they will show up with oil. Leading the fight for Zaun's independence is a heavy mantle and should not be taken lightly. Whatever happens, it is on you."

Katya's voice rung in his ears. He looked back at Silco. And the woman at his side. His Brother gave him a small encouraging nod. They had discussed strategy before this meeting. Vander steeled his nerves and turned back to the crowd.

"Then we tell Piltover. We send 'em a message 'bout the airship. An' include the forged curtain documents just'a stick to them sum'more." He swallowed, "We tell 'em Zaun demands freedom. Peace n' opportunity."

There was a hush, then murmuring. The murmuring grew and gave way to louder agreements, then some clapping, and finally the tavern erupted in full-blown applause. Benzo beat the bottom of his tankard down on the bar top; others followed with their own drinks. Those who did not have beverages stomped their boots on the floorboards. The building rumbled and shook with the sound, and soon – no one could be sure who started it – a chant joined, and soon overtook the beating of cups and stamping of feet.

"Here comes The Storm's Fury! Here comes The Storm's Fury!"

Katya tensed at the cacophony. Silco grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She could feel his excitement buzzing through his fingertips, and she laced her fingers through his.

Somehow Annie's trill of a voice rang above the din and cried, "Let's commemorate this occasion!"

She waved the camera she'd stolen above her indigo head. The crowd agreed, and everyone shuffled and moved toward the bar as Beckett set up the camera on a high-top table. He fussed with the knobs atop the camera and peered through the viewfinder, before pressing a button. He raced towards the massive group and slid into the front row just in time for the lens to click and the light to flash. A photo on thick glossy paper slid out from the camera's slot, and the crowd cheered and laughed.

"Let's celebrate!" Benzo crowed, his wide face ruddy.

He hobbled behind the bar and poured himself another ale. The rest of the Children agreed. More drinks were poured, the jukebox received no rest, and Annie flitted about the room snapping photo after photo of the excited revelers.

"Katya! Silco! Smile!" she yelled, rushing up to the pair.

Both were flummoxed by her sudden appearance. Normally, they would've rescinded (with varying degrees of politeness), but the joy in the tavern and the young woman's guerilla tactics left them off-kilter and clumsily agreeable. Without thinking, Silco wrapped his arm around her waist, and Katya's around his, as they leaned into each other. They both winced at the bright flash, and Annie cackled in delight as she pulled the photo from the camera and waved it in the air.

"Here!" she said, thrusting the photo at them.

Silco snatched it up before she whisked away, chasing after Sevika and Nasha. Katya reached over to look at the developing photo. Slowly, her and Silco's silhouettes appeared. Details filled in the them-shaped holes next. She snorted. Neither looked especially happy – they looked awkward and unprepared. Silco was barely smiling, while she veered toward a grimace. A wince pinched at Silco's eyes, while her eyebrows pitched up in concern. However, she couldn't deny the ease with which their bodies leaned in towards each other. Something about it brought her immense comfort.

"Maybe your mother would like to put that on the icebox."

Silco snorted, but he tucked the photo in his trouser pocket all the same.

"Where is she?" Katya asked.

"At home. Her cough was especially bad today."

She watched grief and worry gutter in his eyes briefly before he tucked it back inside him. A heavy, empathetic weight blanketed her heart and she leaned against him. She felt him lean back in gratitude.

"Oi, Sil!" Vander barked from across the room.

Both looked up to see the barkeep waving his Brother over. Benzo was at his side, Annie standing in front of the pair, her camera at the ready.

"Someone needs to take that thing away from her," Silco grumbled as he trudged toward Vander.

Katya chuckled at his sour mood as he went.

The days following the airship crash were chaotic.

The crash site was far enough away from Piltover proper that city structures were not impacted; however, the distance did keep emergency services from arriving quickly. It was not until dawn before water wagons and ambulances were able to reach the charred shell of the airship. By the time aid arrived, the canvas balloon was gone, long since eaten away by the flames – dispersed into thousands of ashy embers on the salty wind. The hull was a charred, smoking skeleton; small pockets of flames still licked at beams and seat coverings, greedily eating the little that was left. Luckily, the cliff side where the ship had crashed was barren, preventing the fire from expanding to the surrounding wildlife.

The destruction was so complete that the Enforcers and emergency personnel who arrived on the scene were shocked to find two survivors near the crash. Bruised and bloody, but alive. A female with a bullet hole in her leg; a male with a puncture wound through his hand. Both stunk of singed hair and burnt flesh. Another survivor – a male – was picked up along the rocky shoreline below. He suffered a broken leg and hypothermia from having been left in the water. One victim was discovered. A male, charred and burned beyond recognition, in what had been the airship's cargo hold. The three survivors were taken to the sanitarium in Piltover. It was a couple days before physicians cleared them to be interviewed by Enforcers.

An investigation had already begun prior to meeting with the crash survivors, and Sheriff LeDaird was very keen on knowing what had happened. A preliminary inspection of the airship remains revealed that the fire had been started by a firearm going off. A hydraulic line had been severed as well. The front windshield of the hull had been smashed open from the inside. And, of course, the dead body in the cargo hold.

When he and Captain Grayson visited the survivors in the sanitarium, they got a story they were not expecting.

The man who had a broken leg, rattled and broke immediately. Rambling off a story that seemed too outlandish to be true: He and the other three crew members had been paid off by a teller from Clockwork Vault to ferry a large sum of money from Piltover to Bilgewater, where the bankman apparently had large outstanding debts with some nefarious crew. He had stolen the money from a few accounts in the vault, and had commissioned curtains to hide the coin in. As they left port, two stowaways attacked them and caused the airship to catch flame and crash.

LeDaird didn't seem entirely convinced, but he and Grayson both noticed how his cohorts had turned various shades of red and green, and when they tried to dispute the story, their own tales did not line up, nor could they keep their facts straight.

"If this is true," Grayson muttered as they left the sanitarium, "then this Vault teller did not get what he paid for."

"We will look into that next. Follow this trail until it runs cold," LeDaird grumbled, jamming his Sheriff's hat on his head.

The trail, however, did not run cold. It only heated up when Grayson and a few Enforcers went to Clockwork Vault and began asking questions. They found the teller the man with the broken leg had mentioned, and he stammered and sweat profusely as they spoke with him. When they asked for records of accounts, both Enforcers and Vault managers alike were shocked to find glaring discrepancies in the numbers.

Angry and baffled, the managers ordered hand-counting of the accounts effected – certain that it was only a clerical error. A gross, inexcusable clerical error. Alas, when the parttime grunts returned from the laborious task, their fingers blackened and numb, they confirmed that money was missing from those accounts. Lucky for Grayson, the teller in charge of those accounts was the very same man who the three airship crash survivors had pinned. A warrant was issued for his arrest, and a team of Enforcers stormed his home, finding him and his family in the process of packing to leave Piltover.

Obviously, this scandalous crime grabbed the interest of nearly every Topsider. Very rarely was there anything ever of this scope on their side of the River. It was outrageous, irreprehensible, and barely conceivable – that a fellow Piltovan would take advantage of his position and steal from some of the wealthiest families in the city. The list of accounts effected was long, including the Rynweavers, Ferros', and Kirammans.

What was even more maddening – for the Enforcers as well as the families – was the fact that there was no coin recovered at the crash site. Investigators scoured the land nearby; dive teams were called out to comb the riverbed, and still no money turned up.

Grayson and LeDaird revisited the three injured crew members and questioned them further about the alleged stowaways. The answers given to them were few and frustrating. The pair had worn masks and non-descript dark clothing; one man, one woman – judging by their builds; they had bags with them, but none knew if coin was in them; one had a gun, the other a knife – they both used their weapons to assault the crew. The stowaways didn't speak, didn't declare why they were there.

LeDaird rubbed at his brow as he poured over the notes on his desk. Captain Grayson sat before him, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, her wide mouth down turned and her eyes distant. A couple other high-ranking Enforcers milled around his office, discussing theories and scrutinizing the bulletin board they'd adorned with facts, leads (few and dead that there were), and questions about the Clockwork Vault case.

They were talking in circles, and LeDaird felt a migraine coming on when a receptionist knocked on his door before letting herself in.

"For you, Sheriff," she said quietly, handing him a rumpled envelope.

It was unusual, but his mind was so knotted up that he didn't think to question it before opening the paper. He pulled out the letter, his mind barely noting the raggedness of the parchment paper. His eyes skirted over the message. And then again. And again, as the words began to settle themselves in his brain. His eyes cleared and his heavy brow dropped.

"Sir?" Grayson asked, as he slowly rose from his desk.

He walked slowly toward the bulletin board, eyes still glued to the letter. The two Enforcers stepped aside as he approached. LeDaird snatched an available pin from the cork and pierced the paper to the center of the board.

We are the Children of Zaun

Consider the coin the beginning of your reparations

We are the Children of Zaun

We are The Storm's Fury

And we demand freedom.

A/N: Oooooh baby! Here we go! How we doing? What're we thinking?

If you've made it this far, I'd love to hear your thoughts 3 Please consider leaving a comment on the way out.

Coming Up Next: Kat teaches Silco how to swim. It goes well, and is enlightening for them both. In more ways than one. And they just may have to rub one out over it O_O