Chapter Text
BEEP BEEP BEEP
“Uugghhhhhh” A heavy hand slaps at the alarm clock that blares next to the bed on a well-worn nightstand, taking multiple tries and heavy thuds to hit the top button that will make the heinous sound go away. The hand eventually succeeds and the owner of it is thankful as it slips off and fingertips brush against the uneven floorboards of the still dark bedroom. A mess of red hair lifts from a caved-in pillow; pulled from the bliss that is dreamless sleep, the blurry edges of it call to her, trying it’s damndest to coax her back in but she knows she can’t be late again. She looks to her left to the offending item and sees that it reads 5:00 A.M. A deep sigh pushes past her lips as she pulls back her sheets, removing herself from the warmth and sanctuary of her bed to start her day.
Vi’s out the door fifteen minutes later after rushing through her morning routine and grabbing a small duffel with her work clothes inside, slinging the strap over one shoulder and shutting the door to her apartment with the other, firmly holding it to the frame and hears the telltale shlink of the lock setting it in place before pulling her key out.
She strolls through the dimly lit streets, her footsteps echo through nearly empty streets as the neon signs lining the row buzz idly, creating a quiet humming soundtrack as her and a select few make their way to the sky tram. The air in the undercity doesn’t seem as thick in the cool early mornings, not as stifling without the heat of the day pushing through the cloud cover of smog that encases the lower aisles of Zaun. It’s not nearly as bad as it was when she was growing up but it could always be better. It could always be better. The wistful thought of there being a brighter tomorrow comes and goes as she shuffles through the ambling crowd. After showing the operator her pass, she slumps into an un-occupied seat towards the back and rests her temple against the window, her soft breaths fog up the chilled glass as she rests her eyes.
Just for a minute.
The tram lurches to a halt once it makes its final destination, the shipping yards for the airships and transit alike, waking Vi from her impromptu snooze. She really needs to start going to bed sooner. Vi’d spent more time than she should have at the Last Drop after being guilted into staying since her sister had been badgering her and they ‘never get to see her. Like ever’. She can admit that her work schedule has been a little busier than usual, making her scarcer due to either being exhausted or just not having the time. In the end, it wasn’t too hard of a push to get her to spend time with family. Powder sure knows how to get her to fold, she doesn’t fall for it as easily as she did when they were growing up but it’s still hard not to give in, especially when said reason was for her nineteenth birthday. She swipes her hand across her face, clearing a small amount of drool that had collected at the corner of her mouth. She stands from her seat and makes her way to the bay she’s been assigned to for the week. She takes a deep, cleansing breath as she steps across the threshold and out onto the platform, the faint scent of exhaust and rust fills her nose.
They shift her around quite often, working with new crews and maintaining different positions as needed but she doesn’t mind. It’s good, honest money, even if it is hard work but that’s never bothered her before. Her body has since grown used to the long hours and heavy lifting that is required day in and day out. She spots a familiar face as she heads to the bay she’s been assigned to.
“Mornin’ Hudson.” She grumbles, giving a man about the same height as her a pat on his shoulder as she passes him. He looks up from his clipboard at the familiar voice.
“Mornin’ lass, there’s a lot to be done if we’re to make our time today. Y’up fer earnin’ yer keep?”
His inquiry coddled by a thick Irish accent. She throws a charming smile over her shoulder and keeps her pace towards the airship she’ll be securing cargo to. “You know me Hud.” Vi gives him a playful wink before getting to work.
----
The air at the docks is thicker than what she’s used to, heavy with the stench of diesel fuel, grease, and the salt from bodies of men working around her that seems to permeate the very atmosphere. She breathes shallowly through her nose, trying not to show her disdain at the scent. Caitlyn takes in the sights before her, alert to the possible threats that being in the field inherently holds to herself and fellow citizens. She’s still getting used to going out on assignment rather than getting shoved behind a desk or the ceremonial positions she’s been able to eke out of her immediate supervisors, although much to their chagrin from her constant pestering. Needing to prove herself and her mother wrong of her castigation at a title ‘not befitting her station’, she’s well aware that all actions have consequences and she’d be remiss to believe herself as the exception to the rule. Her musings are cut short by the sheriff ushering her over to an airship in one of the last bays, nestled in at the end of the row of the pier. She strides over, stopping next to the older woman, posture rigid and awaiting orders.
“Why don’t you go and ask them and see if they can get you the shipping manifest? I’ll go take the other bay, let me know if you have any trouble.” Grayson’s rich and gravelly tone fills the air between them. She gestures to one of the dockworkers currently securing cargo to the top of a pallet, their back turned to the both of them.
“Yes ma’am. I’ll report back with what I find.” Her spine as stiff as her words, she glances down to the notepad she has within the clinch of her hand. Her nerves getting to her at being left somewhat to her own devices. She’s confident within her ability to do the job, and do it well at that, just look at who her mentor is. But this sense of freedom seems like a large step in the right direction. It’s exciting, if a little intimidating.
“Steady Kiramman, we have all day.” There’s a slight lilt to her words when she says them, almost fond in her amusement at the young enforcer. “Go, I’ll check the other one.” She nods to the ship in front of them and turns, walking to the opposite side of the bay where another ship resides.
Not one to disobey her superior, Caitlyn crosses the brow that bridges the docking bay and airship together. She walks over to a worker that’s facing away, the suspect in question is wearing a dock workers uniform, dark grey coveralls riddled with runs in the fabric and dark stains, most likely from some type of engine work, the sleeves rolled to just above the crooks of their elbows. The styling choice showing tattoos on the backs of thick forearms as they lean over and secure straps around a collection of barrels to keep them from rolling. Caitlyn can imagine that this job must be quite physically demanding based on their physique and the wear of their uniform. She can see that their hair is buzzed on one side and the rest flops messily into the right side of their face, obscuring it from the young officer's view in an unruly red wave.
She clears her throat and tries to get their attention. “Excuse me, you there. I was wondering if you would be able to provide a shipping manifest for this cargo.” The worker makes no inclination of hearing her and continues to inspect the rigging of the barrels. Caitlyn, unsure if the pause is due to her request being inaudible or to simply being ignored is about to call out again when they speak, not bothering to look back before they answer.
“Port ops and Chief Mate should be able to get it for you.” Voice flat while giving the information. Caitlyn shouldn’t be as surprised as she is that the worker is a woman but it catches her off guard all the same. The worker doesn’t pay her further mind as she goes about her job. She moves to another section of the deck, ensuring that crates are secured to the pallets they sit on before getting craned to the deck below.
“Wonderful. Would you mind fetching them for me?” Taking on a slightly haughty tone, Caitlyn’s displeasure at being so wholly dismissed is apparent even to the woman that has yet to face her directly. She hears the woman mutter under her breath, something akin to 'not a fuckin' dog' before hunching her shoulders and shaking her head as gets up from where she's crouched.
“Look lady-“ Vi starts, mild annoyance in her tone at the interruption, she’s almost at the end of her shift and she just wants to finish up so she can go home. She turns to her and stops, her expression goes from being nonplussed to immediate distrust upon seeing who’s been obstructing her plans. “Since when do enforcers need to check…“ She looks back at the crate she has her hand resting on. “Factory coils for weapons of mass destruction?” Vi says, looking unconvinced as to the nature of her visit. She’s never exactly been one to take kindly to strangers, especially those of a richer descent.
Caitlyn bristles at that, puffing up her chest and retorting back. “Since there’s been contraband being smuggled through and inspectors have been getting paid off to look the other way.” Hands at her hips as she practically stands over her. “And I’m only an enforcer in training.” She realizes it’s a mistake to mention her inexperience as soon as it breaches her lips. She’s always had trouble of being technical to a fault. It has its benefits when it comes to following procedures or detail-oriented tasks which are essentially required when aspiring to become a detective. But in this case, it may as well have just hammered the final nail in any sort of credibility or leverage she’d had in her questioning.
“Oh okay.” Done with this lackluster attempt at an interrogation, she turns back to her work. “You can go “fetch” him yourself then. And what it really sounds like is that you need to be doing your, I don’t know, Job?” Giving a pointed shrug of her shoulders as she grabs one of the tie-down straps in her fist and yanks harshly, the fibers hiss as their pulled through the teeth of the buckle. “-by interrogating the inspectors instead of accusing me of doing mine.” Her tone the most clipped it’s been the whole conversation, her voice rising at the end in genuine agitation. She checks the tautness of the straps and tucks the excess into itself before moving to the next. “So if you don’t mind? Kinda busy here...”
Clearly affronted at the yet again abrupt dismissal as well as suggesting that she’s the one that could be corrupt in this situation. The idea of taking a bribe from some low-life scum makes her skin crawl. “I beg your pardon. Are you implying that I-“
“Is there a problem here officer?” A thick Irish accent interjects from behind her. A stout looking man with a scratchy looking beard and wire rimmed glasses who looks to be in his mid 40’s stands at the aft of the main deck. He’s wearing a nice suit, though it looks like it could stand to have a tailor’s touch. The fabric of it looks to be stiff and quite heavily starched but his shoes are scuffed, as if he's not used to having nice ones or they may just be a well-loved pair. ”Connor Hudson, I’m the chiefs’ mate o’ this vessel.” He extends his hand to shake hers.
Caitlyn, dropping one last glance to the dock worker that’s given her nothing but grief for the past several minutes. The citation of impeding an investigation not worth the aggravation of writing it. She accepts the hand in a firm shake, she can feel his weathered hands through the thin gloves of her uniform and let’s go promptly. “No. No problem Mr. Hudson, but I will need to see your shipping manifest and verify the inventory you have aboard.” Recognition dawns on his face at the nature of her visit. “Oh, well, the inspector came by this morn’ ma'am. This is just final checks to make sure the cargo isn't damaged in transit.”
Not easily assuaged. “I understand but as a formality I still need to verify and make sure he didn't miss anything. Shall we?“ Her tone non-negotiable, finding her spine again, not wanting to be so easily bested.
“Oh, uh yes. Right this way.” He says, cantering towards the main cargo hold, the pocket watch he pulls from his vest is old. She can see spots that have been worried over for such an extended amount of time that the polish has completely worn off and has left dull spots in the gold plating. “We’ll have to move this along if we want to keep schedule.”
After a thorough search, she doesn’t find anything of note and heads back to the now secured main deck and across the brow to the bay’s loading dock with Mr. Hudson in tow. Luckily the ship is only slightly behind schedule. She doesn’t whether to be relieved that there was nothing to find or disappointed that she’s no closer to finding out who’s behind this. “It looks to be that everything is in order, thank you for your cooperation, even though some of your crew don’t seem to carry the same sentiment, I hope that you can pardon the interruption. We understand this is inconvenient for all parties involved but the safety of Piltover’s citizens is our top priority.” He waves his hand in the air. “Ah yer jus doin yer job, no harm in that I s’pose. An’ don’t pay ‘er no mind, I know her candor can be a bit… abrasive but it’s nothin’ to be worked over for.” She contemplates his words as he shakes her hand once more and re-boards; as he disappears into the hull she can hear him telling one of the crew they’re done for the day while looking over her notes that she’d taken during the inspection.
Noting the name of the inspector, and lack of discrepancies within the manifest, as well as those that may have looked suspicious which is difficult to do when most of the workers employed here seem to look like they’re all from a specific type of… background. Most having tattoos or some sort of body modifications if not both while looking like they could break her in half if one of them were to wrap their arms around her and squeeze. Caitlyn scribbles across the last line about the workers, seeing it as a loss and effectively blocking it out in a neat block of ink.
She’s about to head back to where she’d seen Grayson disappear when she sees a mess of red emerge from the ship’s hull. No longer in her coveralls, her arms are fully exposed due to the sleeveless shirt she must wear under her uniform and baggy pants that cinch at her waist and hug her hips but hide the shape of her legs. It draws attention to just how impressive her physique really is. Caitlyn admits to herself, begrudgingly, that she is what one may consider attractive, albeit completely infuriating. She’s still standing on the dock and waits until she passes her to try to get her attention.
“Ahem.”
A tired sigh passes her lips. “Anything else I can do for you officer?” She turns around lazily, readjusting the bag slung over broad shoulders, a scarred eyebrow raising at her lack of response. The movement is meant to be nonchalant but Caitlyn can see that her shoulders are tensed, her posture in a faux relaxed state, most likely a disarming tactic she uses to gain the upper hand when opponents believe her to be caught off guard. This isn’t how she wants the rest of this assignment to go and it appears that the redhead has quite a few connections that could either make this job a lot easier or a lot harder.
Caitlyn clears her throat before starting. “Listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot but I'd like to say that I apologize if I came off… a bit-“
“Bitchy?” An unimpressed look on her face, arms crossed over her chest. She hadn’t realized before when questioning her but, she looks roughly the same age as Caitlyn herself, if she had to guess. Her outward appearance that would stand out like a sore thumb in the heart of Piltover is one Caitlyn would assume looks almost plain or modest in the depths of the undercity. “Look, all I want to do right now is go home, eat, and sleep until I have to come back here and do the same shit all over again. So, if you don’t mind? I’d like to skip the bullshit apology and get on with my day.” Vi says, not wanting to drag this out any further.
Caitlyn seems to have other plans though, turning back to the stern persona of an enforcer. “Just one more thing. If you happen to see anything...Strange. Here’s my card. It has my badge number and the address to the precinct nearby.” She extends her hand, the card pinched between her middle and fore fingers.
Vi gives her a sideways glance, dragging her eyes from top to bottom and back up before asking, “Don’t you think that’s a little unprofessional?”
Caitlyn’s brows furrow but she keeps her hand extended out to her. “How do you mean?”
Vi finds her opening. Demeanor turning suave and over-confident as though she’s found the deeper meaning of this interaction. “Look, cupcake. I’m flattered but I don’t usually go for authority figures. You should try to at least play a little hard to get.” Her face breaks out into a smirk. If the enforcer insists on wasting her time, might as well have a little fun with it. Right?
Caitlyn drops her hand to her side and stiffens. “You- I wasn’t-“
“Kiramman!” Caitlyn snaps her attention to the sheriff’s call. She’s still walking up from a distance when she feels the card get pulled from between her fingers. Rough calluses graze the tips of her fingers as the dock worker takes the card, the sensation sends an unexpected heat that tingles up her spine. She flinches away as if she’d been burned but not quickly enough.
“See you around… Kiramman.” Her voice, unexpectedly close to her ear, sweet and low. She has to fight the subconscious shiver that tries to run through her body at the feel of breath against delicate skin. As soon as she’d slipped into Caitlyn’s space she was gone again, walking in the direction of the sky tram.
Her mind in full disarray from the physical and emotional whiplash she’d just experienced, how she’d been able to get so close without her noticing and strutting away has her calling out after the magnetic stranger. “Wait! I didn’t catch your name.”
Vi turns around just enough to give her a knowing smirk and keeps her pace. “I didn’t give it. Till next time Cupcake!” Lifting the card over her head and waving it around briefly before shoving it in her front pants pocket, most likely to be forgotten until she has to pull the pulp out of the lining in her pockets when it inevitably goes through the wash. Less than fortunately, that’s how she’d lost the last girl’s number she’d gotten after a few too many at the last drop. Whoops. All in all, it wasn’t too big of a blow, she was a bit of a messy drunk and talked about her ex a lot. Like a LOT. She gets in line for the tram to head home and shoots a cursory glance behind her. Sure enough, the enforcer is still watching her and though it’s not surprising it is somewhat unsettling, even from this distance. An irritated and bored voice has her turning and breaking the impromptu staring contest. After flashing her pass at the Boardman, she steps on and takes a seat next to a sweet looking older lady, giving her a small smile as she sits. The rest of the day and the enforcer is forgotten as she speaks to the older woman and asks after her grandkids.
---
Having made her way up to Caitlyn, Grayson gives her a look she can’t quite decipher... “Well? Anything interesting?” As if prodding at her with an invisible stick.
Caitlyn flips through her notes to reconfirm her findings instead of continuing to stare after the dock worker, having boarded one of the trams and slipped from view. “Fortunately, or well I suppose unfortunately, no. Inventory was sound and nothing extraordinary of note.”
Grayson nods at her answer, not showing how she feels about it one way or the other and signals them to turn and make their way back to the precinct, walking in stride with the young Kiramman. “And what was that about?”
Not wanting to lie but also having no idea of how to process what had just transpired, Caitlyn picks the more diplomatic answer of her two options. “I took your advice and thought it might be a good idea to canvas some of the workers, see if they’ve seen or heard anything that might be useful.”
Grayson gives her a look, skepticism in her tone. “That seemed to have been a bit more than canvassing, or am I mistaken?” Nodding her head towards the direction of the trams.
Her eyes widen and her lips drop open slightly, dismayed at the accusation. Not once but twice now has her sense of professionalism been called into question in a matter of minutes! She’s more aware of herself than to… to impede an investigation based solely on personal endeavors. Not to say she even considered…She has more class than that, she’s a counselor’s daughter, a member of the public eye, a Kiramman for gods sake! She knows how to conduct herself in almost every setting. “I don’t know what you’re implying ma’am. I would never-” Her face drawn in a deep scowl.
“Kiramman, I’ve done this job long enough to consider who’s worth trusting and those who have squandered those chances, I hope you’ll be able to do the same. With time.” Sufficiently cutting Caitlyn off and making her position on the matter clear, Grayson moves on. “Not every stranger is an enemy, though, they may look more similar than you realize.” There’s a flicker of something somber, a deep sadness. The hard truth of this duty is far from pleasant, bearing witness to the worst moments of people’s lives, loss and heinous acts that one could categorize as inhuman. Choices that will haunt for years to come when making what’s to be believed the best decision at the time is in fact, the wrong one. Grayson knows what Cassandra is trying to keep her daughter from having to experience, to keep her safe and tucked away for as long as she can.
But, like her daughter, there’s no stopping a Kiramman once they’ve set their mind to something. A rueful grin twitching at the corner of her mouth, she does see her mother’s spark and passion for justice in the set of her jaw and fire in brilliant blue. “You did well today. We can talk more about what you found once we’re back.”
Caitlyn worries her lip as she stares a hole in her notebook, tapping her pen against the writing scrawled into the paper. “Not all of them were as keen to answer my questions as others, I was trying to build rapport with some of the workers and met some…resistance.” She can’t seem to shake that dispute with the dock worker, something about it lingers in the back of her mind; like worrying at a sore spot of a bitten cheek with her tongue, irate and sickeningly satisfying at the same time.
Grayson releases a short exhale through her nose with a slight shake of her head. “It comes with the territory of speaking to those from different walks of life. Not everyone will see us in these uniforms and think that what we do is in their best interest. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Caitlyn’s scowl returns. “I don’t need someone to watch over my every move to see when I’ll fail.” It makes her feel like a petulant child but it doesn’t make the reasoning any less true. Her distaste for being overseen becoming too much to hide, the inherent sense that even though she’s new to this aspect of the job she knows she’s not incompetent. Hell, she’s better than some of her compatriots that have been doing this for years.
The sheriff shakes her head again and with a gesture of her hand, makes as though to halt the thought entirely. “This isn’t about wanting to see you fail.” She says matter of factly as her eyes never stray from what’s ahead of her. “I’m well aware you don’t need me here looking over your shoulder. You will fail. But, that doesn’t mean it has to be the end.” She sighs and continues. “Your mother asked me to keep an eye on you. She worries for you in ways you may not understand. I trust that you’ll do what’s right, I see it in you.” Caitlyn considers the ethics of this conversation and how much her family’s influence has assisted in gaining such an interpersonal relationship with the sheriff in this regard. Having known her since she was a young girl and how the show of blatant favoritism betrays her own moral alignments is a landslide of a conversation away from becoming a catastrophic event. Regardless, she isn’t in a position to refuse help as she grumbles mostly to herself, “Sounds like a potential conflict of interest.”
“If you want to be successful in this line of work, you need to be able to separate your personal reservations in order to perform your duties. This job, as rewarding as it may be at times, is not easy. Never convince yourself that every choice you make will be the right one.”
Caitlyn considers her words, “You’re right.” After returning to the station and filing away their respective reports and findings, they part ways and Caitlyn makes her way home. She ruminates on the events of the day as she passes through the streets of Piltover, the city she swears to protect and uphold justice for all its’ citizens. Streetlights give off a soft warm glow to keep the approaching darkness of dusk at bay as she strolls along the pathway, taking in her surroundings as she goes.
The sound of early evening is filled with cacophony of steam cars honking at one another, people bustling by her and the sound of children squealing at a nearby park, running from their mothers when they’re told it’s time to leave for supper. Scents of rich spices saturate the air as she passes by bistros and cafes with outdoor seating, family’s enjoying a meal together and young couples indulging in public displays of affection in the form of chaste kisses or holding hands across tables. She contemplates the last time she’d had someone to share private moments with and can’t seem to remember. It saddens her for a moment but the feeling passes as the practical side of her brain takes over, concluding that with how her work schedule wouldn’t allow much time to be able to commit to another; an occasional fling and one night stand would be better suited for the time being. Not needing any unnecessary complications in her life, no less those of a romantic nature, she doesn’t dwell on the thought further and heads home.
-----
Vi trudges into the last drop, frustration roiling off her like the steam that leaks through the exhaust pipes just outside the front door. Powder is sitting at the bar talking to Vander in the mostly empty bar when she approaches. It’s still early evening on a Wednesday so it won't really pick up till later when the rest of the working force of Zaun takes a break to find solace and comradery within the walls of the long-standing pub. The regulars mill about and haunt their unspoken reserved seats and stools throughout the space and don’t pay mind to the newcomer.
“Whoa! What happened to you?” Light jesting giving way to genuine concern when she doesn’t get an immediate answer back. “Hud didn’t dock you or anything did he? Oh because if that’s the case-”
She waves her hand at her exuberant sister, setting her arms against the bar top. One hand picking at chipped paint while the other rubs her fingers against her forehead as though trying to relieve the tension that’s built up there. “No, nothing like that just, some asshole enforcer ‘in-training’” She says in a poor impression of the posh enforcer’s accent, “thought she could try and push me around at work today. She didn’t get very far before Hudson stepped in and showed her around.”
“Here ya go kiddo.” He sets a drink down in front of her, something he used to give her when she or powder were upset as kids and walks away to speak with Silco on the other side of the bar, giving them some space.
Powder grabs both of her shoulders and starts to sway her side to side as she comes up with inventive ways of getting back at the enforcer that’s put Vi in such a bad mood. “Wanna go beat her up? Spray paint her house? Kidnap her while she’s naked?!”
Having put her head in her hands and only been half-listening to her sister’s attempts at lightening the mood, she shoots up at the last one. “What?! No!”
“Aww c’mon I’m just kidding about the naked part sheesh.” That gets her an exasperated smile as she knocks their shoulders together.
“I guess she was kinda hot. In like an uppity way. She even tried to give me her card can you believe that?” She doesn’t really know why she doesn’t tell Powder that she had taken the card. That she’d worried the heavy cardstock between her fingers until it started to soften on the edges while listening to the sweet old lady that she’d sat next to on the tram. How she’d smelt like something floral mixed with crisp linen. “Oh, where’s Ekko at anyway?”
Powder groans as though the point of him not being here physically ails her. “With benzo working on one of his projects, he should be by later if you plan on staying for a bit.”
She gives a small hum in the back of her throat and takes a sip of her drink. “Jury’s still out on that one, but I guess I could be convinced.” A sly smirk passes her features when Powder knocks back into her once more. “I’m glad you two have each other.” The admission is heartfelt and soft, Vi sees the change it takes and settles into the moment.
“Yeah...me too.” Vi watches as a wistful smile takes over Powder's face. She’s glad to see that she has someone so good for her. Watching them grow up together and fight through the awkward stages of liking your childhood best friend and eventually making it official.
The night carries on relatively the same as it always does, filled with jokes and catching up with the rest of the family as they pass through the doors. When she says her goodbyes and steps into the night to walk to her apartment. The air is thick with late-night vendors that line both sides of the street and sickly sweet incense that wafts out from the beaded curtains of a brothel nearby. The occasional wink thrown her way and beckoning hands that she pulls away from with a placating smile, leaving them to pout in her wake when she passes by and continues on her way home.
Her visits far and few between now that she’s working a more stable job and not making the same money as she was when she’d been fighting. Vi prefers it that way though, she’s found some semblance of peace with where she’s at in life and plans to work on it further; shoving her hands in her pockets she feels the worn cardstock, having completely forgotten it till now. It doesn’t sour her mood as it had before but it damn sure gets close. She can’t figure out why she hasn’t thrown it away yet, there was just something about her. No. They're all the same. She mutters to herself and tosses the card into the gutter as she makes her way home. After showering and cleansing herself of her long day, she crawls into bed for some much needed rest and waits for the start a new day.