Archive of Our Own

Vi made it a strict rule to not know anyone's name when she worked behind the bar.

It was a rule Vander had implemented during his time at the Last Drop, and it was a rule she intended to honor—not just because of tradition, but because of safety. Born and raised in Zaun, Vi had learned from the years that the very air she breathed, the very streets she walked, the very space she so much as occupied any second she stood in Zaun was owned and possessed by one chembaron or another. There was no way to be certain anyone down here wasn't a traitor, a minion, a spy for one baron or another—everyone in Zaun scraped a living by throwing their bodies into the pockets of those with power, and no one was stupid enough to walk around unprotected without a baron's name, symbol or brand on their skin, their collars, their wrists.

In general, trust never paid well in Zaun, and Vi knew each and every chembaron in power was bankrupt of it.

The only thing Vi could trust about the chembarons was the unnerving truce and agreement between them all that the Last Drop was a neutral ground, a territory meant to be untouched by wars and conflict. If Vi ventured outside, she tended to wear her jacket branded with the faces of two snarling dogs—Vander’s signature hounds, and it kept her protected well enough to keep her fists less bloodied than they needed to be. Vander himself had never discussed the 'incident' in detail that led to the bar somehow becoming a neutral haven, but Vi got the sense that he'd somehow avoided a nuclear crackdown from Piltover, and the chembarons back then owed him a lifetime debt for clearing the streets of Piltover's Enforcers.

Lack of enforcement, though, meant Zaun had to live by their own rules, their own laws.

So Vi stuck very, very strongly, to the rule that she not know anyone's names when she worked at the Last Drop. She'd keep the bar neutral and she wouldn't stick her head into business that wasn't hers, and she'd say nothing but jerk a finger at the backrooms anytime she saw and sensed someone with power strut and saunter in front of her, flanked by a legion of guards.

It was easy, picking out lieutenants, generals, captains, commanders. They always walked into the bar to do business with other gangs with an air of superiority, a haughty upturn to their nose that made others know they weren't to be fucked with. It made them obviously and starkly different from the vast number of other bar-go'ers that were just slouched and beaten down miners and factory workers, trudging into the bar with bent backs and coal-stained faces.

Vi was usually very, very good, at picking out and knowing who was who without knowing their names. A commander from Margot's army dressed from head to toe in skintight, shiny, black leather or latex. A general from Chross's legions only wore the most dapper of black suits, the most shiny of gold watches. A captain from Renata's clan always wore a golden, metallic breathing mechanism tinged with tubes of Shimmer. A messenger from Renni's group always shot by with a fur cloak, the shift of his clothing revealing a gleaming chemtech arm. A soldier from the Kiramman enterprise always wore simple, navy work outfits befitting a corporate worker, the Kiramman crest at the lapel.

Vi knew the chembarons by name—everyone did—but Vi also knew from her long years of working here that the chembarons themselves never came to the Last Drop.

A neutral ground it may be, but no baron would be stupid enough to walk into here, shed all weapons, and walk defenseless into a backroom with a known enemy. No—only their henchmen came here, did their dirty deals, and walked out. And, sure, maybe more than once said henchmen had taken two steps out of the bar and gotten shot, blown up, cut up, stabbed, or whatever, but as far as Vi was concerned, it was outside the walls of the bar so it wasn't any of her business if blood got spilled just a foot away.

That was how the Last Drop worked. Vi didn't poke her nose into chembaron business, and the chembarons left the place alone. Miners and factory workers came and went, drank their fill, and dragged their sorry bodies home.

But there was one exception, to all of this.

Vi called her 'Blue.'

Blue wasn't a chembaron lackey and she certainly wasn't a soul-crushed worker either.

Most of Zaun lived and breathed at night, but Vi had the bar open during the day too for what little business might trickle in during the afternoons. It was usually quiet then, just Vi spending time restocking and cleaning behind the bar or out cleaning the floor or the booths, and what few customers that came in usually kept to themselves, nursed a drink or two, before silently leaving a few cogs behind and departing out the door.

'Blue' did not do that.

Blue had shown up everyday in the past two months, had let Scar pat her down outside the front door—she strangely never had any weaponry on her—and always sat on a stool by the end of the bar. Whenever Vi saw her, Blue spent her afternoons scribbling in notebooks with a wicked scrawl, chewing on the end of her pen, or sipping on a simple iced water. Water. Vi never judged people for what they ordered or did here but Blue being so completely different from everyone else really piqued Vi's thoughts.

Then, of course, there was the obvious fact that Blue was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Vi had memorized every aspect of the woman's face from their first meeting and Vi could lose herself in daydreams about her every night. It was like comparing her to a star in a night sky; she glowed, brilliant, an impossible warmth from her that somehow existed in this deep, dark void called Zaun.

And, the ever present ominous smog and smoke coating the undercity’s insides meant light struggled to breathe down here just as much as the people did. Vi did her best with the Last Drop to give it a homely atmosphere, but chemtech meant the lights were generally green and shimmering, and lanterns lit with matches were the only sources of warm gold battling against the green taint of the air.

Blue, though.

She lacked the sickly pallor of most of the undercity’s residents, and underneath the golden lanterns that hung above her as she worked silently in her notebook, the shadows sharpened her impeccable jawline and the radiance of her gaze.

Oh, her eyes.

'Blue' came from that unforgettable shade, and oh, how Vi swore those eyes would twinkle at her when the woman offered thanks for her water. Her smile, too—Vi thought about that cute little gap in Blue's front teeth more often than she'd admit, because every other part of Blue was absolute perfection. Miles-long legs, a lithe gait and walk that made her confidence stunning, and a slender figure that could cut respect and prayer from even the most chaste of the pious.

But Blue never wore any symbol of a baron. She only ever walked in with black turtleneck sweaters and long, skintight black pants and boots. Her hair was always neat, devoid of tangles, of stray strands; sometimes her navy hair was done up in a pristine bun, or a loose ponytail, but never did she look too casual. If she wore a coat, it only ever had simple golden buttons, never anything flashy, nothing rich, nothing that showed off she was a top-tier lieutenant for a gang or a syndicate.

It was strange. Vi couldn't quite pinpoint just who or what exactly Blue was. She wasn't flaunty enough to be a minion for baron, but she wasn't a coal or oil-stained worker either. And she wore no sigil, but her confidence so clearly meant she wasn’t a stranger to Zaun’s shining personality. She was someone, but not anyone, and that made Vi more interested in her than she’d like to admit.

Vi was never exactly sure of what notes Blue was working on, either. When Vi came near to refill Blue's water, she'd glance at the unintelligible scrawl and glean enough information to know Blue definitely was writing in code in someway—which made sense, down here in Zaun. Neutral, that Vi may be, Vi wouldn't trust anyone in Zaun either to not keep her thoughts private.

Their relationship was a cordial one. Vi refilled Blue’s water, Blue would smile and nod at her, and then Vi would return to whatever small chores and tasks that needed attending to before the night rush. And Blue always left before the end of the day, before the workers slouched and stumbled in, before chembaron henchmen haughtily strutted into the backrooms for their usual deals. Blue kept to her schedule on a very strict basis; she always came in, worked on her weird notes in her little notebook with her little pen while drinking her glass of water, and left promptly before rush hour.

Since Blue had kept up this very strict routine, Vi had gotten more than her fair share of watching the woman. Blue always worked with an expression of intense concentration, end of the pen chewed down from the number of times she bit down on it, elbows propped on the countertop as she tilted her head and stared down at her incomprehensible notes.

Sometimes, Vi entertained the thought of talking to her and asking her what she was doing—but that was crossing a line. Asking a question like that meant getting into someone’s business, and Vi was very hyper aware of the fact that a wrong question, even from a neutral party, could land her in hot water. She didn’t want or need to know information or secrets she shouldn’t have.

But sometimes conversations didn’t need to be carried with words. Vi could speak without opening her mouth; she was a bartender, after all. Her work spoke for itself, and it spoke for her too.

One afternoon, Vi saw Blue with an uncharacteristic expression of frustration, an upset twist to her mouth, a furious furrow in her brow; her pen scrawled hard and fast against the paper, the black tip almost jagged in how it tore across the paper. Blue’s demeanor was so unlike her normal, neutral, focused aura that Vi couldn’t help but feel a twinge of…something, in her chest.

Silently, Vi reached under the counter, and pulled out another glass.

A simple mocktail, meant to refresh, revive. Light, easy to drink and sip. Citrus flavor to make it just a little bit sweet. Vi made quick work of squeezing fresh juice from two oranges, added a dash of honey, and strained just a tad of ginger juice into the mix before tossing it all together with a base of sparkling water. Ice cubes finished it all off, and Vi made her way down the counter towards Blue, sliding the drink forward and letting the glass clink against the existing glass of water.

Blue looked up, blinking, her mouth slightly parted in surprise.

“On the house,” Vi said.

“Oh,” Blue answered; the few times they spoke, Vi always noted the depth to her tone, the accent to it. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Vi left to continue washing and cleaning a few dirty glasses underneath the counter. Once she finished placing the glasses on a rack, she turned to see Blue leaning forward on the counter, her arms crossed underneath her, lips pursed as she looked at Vi expectantly.

The mocktail glass was empty.

With a raised brow, Vi visited the end of the counter again.

Blue slid forward a few cogs—Vi noted the strange signs of calluses on her fingers—before offering Vi a smile.

“I’m not one to be in debts to others,” Blue said. “Thank you, truly. It was a lovely drink.”

Vi chuckled. “Happy to help a regular.”

Blue’s smile was small, but there. “I didn’t know the Last Drop rewarded loyalty.”

“What kind of bar would this be if I didn’t make this place nice for everyone who comes by?” Vi said, putting on a tone of light offense. “C’mon. Pretty sure you’ve heard this place is the best bar in town, otherwise someone like you wouldn’t be here.”

“Someone like me?” Blue repeated; her tone was hard to read, but Vi didn’t miss the flicker of something in Blue’s gaze.

“Put together, responsible, hard-working,” Vi rattled off. “You’re working at a bar in the afternoon, and you’ve been doing this for a while. You don’t give up on whatever it is you’re doing, and you always finish the job, whatever it is. You also don’t dress like you’re trying to own whatever place you walk into—you’re just here to do your thing and go home, nothing more, nothing less. You came to the Last Drop because it’s the one place in Zaun you can do some good work in peace.”

Blue’s raised eyebrows were a telltale answer; she was impressed. “You’ve been studying me.”

“The same way I’m sure you’ve been studying me too.” Vi winked.

Blue pursed her lips, hiding a smile. “You’re impressive, I’ll admit. You can tell all of that, just by looking at me?”

“It’s kinda obvious,” Vi said with a shrug. “Seriously, you don’t make yourself hard to read.”

“Hm. Put together,” Blue said softly, looking away. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Something about her words stirred something in Vi, but caution prevented her from touching upon it. Instead, Vi erred on the side of bravado, as she always did when she sensed danger just a bit too close for comfort.

“I can give compliments too,” Vi said. “You’ll have to pay a cog for each one, though.”

Blue laughed; Vi liked the sound of it. Unlike all other forms of false merriment and cheer in the Lanes, Blue didn’t sound like she’d been put through the grater or the blender of misfortune just yet. She could still laugh with a bit of freedom in the sound; a rare thing in these parts.

“I can see why the Last Drop’s popular,” Blue said. “You’re half the charm of the place, I think.”

“A majority of it, not half,” Vi grinned. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your work.”

Vi didn’t think much of the interaction with Blue after that, only that it satisfied the small curiosity in her heart to learn a little bit about such a beautiful stranger and that she’d sufficiently had her ego stroked by such a gorgeous woman. The next day, Vi expected for their relationship to slip back into the silent bartender and silent customer dynamic, except this time when Blue sat down in her usual seat at the bar and Vi came by with her usual glass of water, Blue slipped forward another few cogs onto the counter.

“I’d like another drink, please. A speciality, I mean,” Blue said.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Any preference? Non-alcoholic, is what I’m guessing.”

“Mhm. Asides from that, no preference. Surprise me.”

“You got it.”

Vi got to work quickly. She went downstairs into the cellar, pulling down a container of tea that she’d been experimenting with lately—a sweet but gentle mix of fermented mango, citrus, and damiana tea that Vi knew would start as a good base for a nice refresher. She headed back out to the counter, slid ice cubes into a glass and poured the tea into it, before adding a dash of a spicy, strawberry syrup that Jinx had invented that put a slight kick into any drink it came with.

Sliding the glass towards Blue, Vi leaned an arm on the counter, grinning. “Hope you’ll like this. Been thinkin’ about this for a while, and I hope it hits.”

“You haven’t made this before?” Blue asked, lifting the glass, taking a tentative sniff, no doubt catching the fruity scents within.

“The tea I’ve tried. Just don’t know really know if the strawberry syrup will mesh with it, but you tell me,” Vi said. “If you don’t like it, money back guaranteed.”

Blue took a sip, and immediately, her expression brightened; her grin was infectious, showing off the gap between her front teeth.

“Good, yeah?” Vi asked, grinning wide.

“It’s delicious,” Blue said, and she eagerly took another sip. “It’s sweet, but—just right, I think. The syrup adds just a bit of a spice to it that I quite like, so it’s not too tame. Thank you, truly.”

“Glad you like it. You seem like a tea kind of person, so, glad I got that right about you too.” Vi put her hands on her hips, proud of herself.

“Do you do this with all your customers?” Blue asked. “Study them, figure out what they like?”

“I’m a bartender,” Vi said, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”

Blue laughed again; another success for Vi.

“Just to be sure, and not to be rude, but you’re Vi, aren’t you?” Blue leaned forward, those eyes of hers like stars. “Owner of the Last Drop?”

“Yep. The one, the only,” Vi said, leaning a hip against the counter, closer to Blue.

“Well, let me thank you then, Vi,” Blue said, and she reached into the pocket of her pants, withdrawing a few more cogs and sliding them forward on the counter. “An excellent drink deserves an extra tip.”

“Much appreciated, miss. I’ll let you get back to it, then.” Vi pocketed the change, turning around—

“Wait.”

Vi paused, glancing behind her, and Blue was looking at her with a curious expression.

“Don’t you want to know who I am?” Blue asked.

“Nope.”

Blue made a face, a mix between offense and bafflement.

“I don’t understand,” Blue said. “You study me, but don’t even want to know my name?”

“I work at the Last Drop, miss,” Vi said, fully turning around and turning serious. “You know where you are, don’t you?”

Blue said nothing for a long moment. She just studied Vi with those blue eyes of hers, piercing, pulling apart, studying.

“Zaun,” she finally said.

“Zaun,” Vi said, toneless. “We’re in Zaun. And this,” Vi waved a hand around. “This is the Last Drop, the last remaining place in Zaun that isn’t under constant danger of getting blown up, shot up, covered in blood, or whatever it is that happens on the rest of Zaun’s streets. It’s a safe haven for most folks down here, and I plan on keeping it that way. I don’t get into other people’s business, and they don’t get into mine. That’s how it works here, that’s the rules. Break ‘em, or give me any reason to make me even think you’re gonna break ‘em, and you’re out of here. Got it?”

Vi placed both her clenched fists on the table, prominently showing off the years-long history of her blunted and bruised knuckles, before leaning her head forward into Blue’s space.

To Blue’s credit, she didn’t pull away, and she met Vi’s piercing stare with her own, but something flickered in her gaze.

“You truly do live up to your reputation,” Blue said softly. “You’re just like Vander.”

“So you’ve heard of my old man.”

“Everyone’s heard of Zaun’s Enforcer. Anyone worth their salt should know the man for keeping order down here. We all owe him a debt.” Blue looked away. “My mother owed him several.”

“Then you know better than to fuck around in here, miss,” Vi said. “Do whatever you want outside, but don’t bring it in here, and don’t drag me into it. And, if you want me to call you by a name, I already have one for you.”

“You’ve…given me a name,” Blue said, both a question and a statement in her tone.

“S’far as I’m concerned, you’re ‘Blue,’ and I’m ‘Vi.’” Vi pulled away again, releasing the tension in the air, but a hint of it still lingered. “You get the name I give you and that’s it.”

Vi didn’t wait for Blue to respond to that, but maybe she just barely heard a quiet murmur from Blue that sounded like ‘I like that.’

Afterward, for another two weeks, Vi entertained Blue each day she came into the bar and took her seat, cogs in the palm of her hand, ready to ask Vi for yet another surprise. She clearly learned quickly—she didn’t question or push or reveal any more information about herself, and neither did she ask Vi of anything beyond a request for a drink that might surprise her.

The compliments came plenty, though. Vi didn’t sense any kind of subterfuge with Blue’s cute grin or Blue’s excitement when Vi delivered her another surprise, and admittedly, Vi wasn’t immune to Blue’s charm. She was beautiful, had a sense of humor, and had a cute sweetness about her that made it hard to resist bantering with her.

One day, Blue came in with cogs in her hand, and a note. She slid both to Vi, and Vi glanced down at the money and the note with a raised brow.

“What’s this?” Vi asked.

“A request,” Blue answered. “Please, read it.”

With caution, Vi picked up the note; here, of course, Blue’s writing was legible, and she read the drink request with growing amusement. It wasn’t a difficult drink to make by any means; it was just a spin on a Freljord Mule, ginger lemon tea spiced with ginger beer and a slice of lemon and fresh mint.

“So? Can you make it?” Blue asked.

“I don’t run a charity. Not even for pretty girls like you.”

“I wasn’t planning on paying with my looks,” Blue said with a chuckle. She had confidence, but not arrogance, in her smile. “You know I have the cogs to pay.”

“Then I’m all yours.”

Blue pursed her lips, hiding a smile. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

“Danger comes with the job and the territory, sweetheart,” Vi said with a wink. “Anyway, your drink’s comin’ up.”

When Vi finished up the drink, complete inside a copper mug with condensation cold around the surface and garnished with a fresh slice of a lemon, Blue eagerly took a sip of it.

“Mm. Perfect,” Blue hummed.

“So, there a reason you wanted me to make this, or, what?” Vi asked.

With a pause, Blue glanced at Vi, then back down at her hands clasping her copper mug. “It was my mother’s favorite. I just…she passed away a few months ago. I…just wanted to feel close to her again, I suppose.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Vi said softly.

Vi should’ve known better that someone else in Zaun would also know tragedy. It was common around here, a perpetual sight, an ever present thing. Everyone down here knew some brand of despair.

Like before, when Blue’s expression fell ever so slightly, hesitation and sadness painted across her face, a compulsion pushed Vi forward, and Vi brushed her knuckles against Blue’s hands. Just a gentle, brief touch, but it made Blue sharply inhale from the contact and she glanced up at Vi.

“I…Vander has this beer, he used to make,” Vi said, and she didn’t really quite know why she was saying this. “His own brand. Tastes like shit,” Vi chuckled. “But…got a few regulars who still like it. I even drink it every now and then. Makes me think of him, too.”

“It seems like he left behind a few things for you, didn’t he?” Blue asked, tentative.

That was an understatement. The Last Drop. Her family. Jinx. A city full of crime that he couldn’t fix.

“I got…a couple of things to take care of, yeah,” Vi said, but she didn’t quite meet Blue’s eye. “Same with your mom, too, I guess?”

“Hm. Yes, in a way,” Blue said. She sounded distant, and she too looked away. “It…sometimes, it feels suffocating, trying to fill her shoes. Our parents always seemed like they made what they did seem easy, and it never is, is it?”

“Never.” Vi shrugged a shoulder. “That’s life, for you. It’s never easy.”

“I wish it were.” Blue sounded like she were saying more to herself than Vi, but then she glanced back up, and her expression softened. “Life hasn’t been kind to you either, has it, Vi?”

Vi let out a humorless laugh. Another massive understatement. But that was what Zaun was, how Zaun worked, how life in the undercity worked. It didn’t change. It never differed.

“You’ve been nice to me well enough,” Vi said, dodging the question.

“I’m glad I can be.” Blue shifted a hand from the mug, brushing her fingers against Vi’s.

Only here in Zaun could comfort be found in mutual tragedy. It was a far too common thing down here. Vi wished it wasn’t.

“Let me know if you need anything else. Happy to make a drink for you anytime,” Vi said, clearing her throat, and then she pulled away.

Things continued like that for another week. Sometimes Blue wished to be surprised, sometimes she asked for her mother’s favorite again. Like any good bartender, Vi did her duties, but maybe something from that day when they’d learned that both had suffered loss cast a thread between them both, tying them together, drawing Vi to Blue and Blue to Vi.

And maybe Vi liked the attention. Miners tended to go for the cheaper shots and less expensive beers, and at night, when Vi had to serve the more cocky and haughty gang members that came by and entered the backrooms, they usually had more expensive and less refined tastes. She wouldn’t judge, but Vi had to admit the predictability of the henchmen made them a bit dull and boring to serve; most were unwilling to go for heavier liquors and more drastic mixed drinks when they had to enter a meeting with a rival.

Blue, on the other hand, provided a welcome challenge. She was…different. Everything about her was.

Only once or twice did Blue offer her critique, her lips pursed as she pondered another sip of a mocktail that didn’t quite hit the same notes as prior successes. Blue’s tastes leaned towards sweet, but not too sweet; she didn’t quite like the more neutral mocktails that were based on club sodas and sparkling water, and she leaned more towards drinks that had a bit of a spicy kick to it rather than mellow, quieter flavors. Teas seemed to be her greater preference, as the mild bits of caffeine enabled her to do her work for the rest of the afternoon, and she seemed to enjoy Vi’s experiments with different blends.

“I didn’t take you as someone interested in tea blends,” Blue said one afternoon, nursing yet another tea-based mocktail from Vi; this time it was an Ionian iced tea, spiced with apple syrup and a dash of cinnamon vanilla coconut cream.

Vi chuckled, drying out a mug with a rag as she stood behind the counter next to Blue. “You mean, didn’t think bartenders in general played around with teas, or you didn’t think me specifically wouldn’t be into teas?”

“A little bit of both.”

Vi had to admit, she liked the woman’s humorous honesty. “Look, I’ve been doing this for a couple years and know my way around this entire bar, but sometimes you wanna change things up and try something different. Can’t just be doing all the same shit all the time, you know?”

“Mm. I…agree,” Blue said, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Do you ever think the same about Zaun?”

Vi made a face. “Think what about Zaun?”

“That…it could use some changes,” Blue said. “You said it yourself. The Last Drop’s the only place where things are somewhat safe. What if that could be changed?”

“Hah, funny,” Vi barked out a laugh. “Look, sweetheart, Zaun’s been like this for years, for longer than you, or me, or Babette’s been alive, and Babette’s old as fuck. There’s no way any of this is ever gonna change.”

“Don’t you wish it could?” Blue asked, head tilted. There was something alight in her gaze.

“I mean, yeah, sure, doesn’t anyone?” Vi said, raising an eyebrow. “But you really think all the chembarons in town are just gonna turn over a new leaf anytime soon? They’re the what’s what in town. What they say goes.”

Blue looked away, chewing on her cheek. “I suppose that’s true.” But then she glanced at Vi. “What if that could be changed?”

Bile rose up in the back of Vi’s throat, and maybe the acidity on her face showed because Blue looked taken aback as Vi stiffly turned towards her, clenching the mug in her hand with whitened knuckles.

“My parents had the same idea,” Vi said, tone deathly quiet. “And they died for it.”

Vi had seen it, years ago, when she was a child and she’d believed her parents’ words for a better, brighter future. She’d seen then, on that cursed day, Vander’s truth, the grueling lesson taught by all chembarons, each and every one.

It’d been a massacre.

No one had come out of it alive. No miner could possibly survive the onslaught of armies equipped to the teeth with chemtech and enhanced weaponry. Chembarons were determined to keep their power absolute, and that meant by any means necessary. That day was remembered by many of those left behind by the miners who’d thought they’d had nothing to lose; that’d been a stark reminder for everyone else in Zaun that rebellion was a false dream with dangerous intention.

It left a bitter stone sitting stark in the middle of Vi’s stomach. But she’d swallowed it, the same way she’d forced down Vander’s words. The way things were now? The rules, the unspoken laws of the undercity, it all kept the peace, as fragile as it was. The Last Drop remained safe, amidst the fighting and warring between the barons.

But even so. A prickle poked the back of Vi’s neck. The stone that sat in her stomach had long festered and burned an acidic hole through her insides, and it’d been filled with the very thing that Blue so brazenly mentioned to her now.

A wish.

That things could be better.

That things could be different.

Jinx and Ekko were full of that feeling. It was a dangerous one. Vi wouldn’t be caught dead in public with it. Realism outweighed her naivety, something she’d outgrown with age and experience.

But each and every day of Vi’s life had been the same since Vander had passed. Day in, day out. Witnessing the slow and steady crush of the lost and the poor beaten against the rocks. Turning an eye away from the flood of underhanded dealings of criminals and thieves. Coveting selfishly the one place in Zaun that could be an island amidst the ocean of hell.

A beast howled inside Vi. She ignored it, as she did many times, as she did most days.

“Things don’t change here, Blue,” Vi said out loud, and she could hear the emptiness in her own words. “Don’t die trying to make things different.”

“I won’t,” Blue said in reply, but then a shadow passed over Blue’s face, and she looked away. “But…let me say, my mother…she died for what she believed in too. I—I empathize.”

That got Vi to blink, to stare.

“Sorry, too,” Vi muttered. “Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Blue said softly. “And I’m sorry for doing the same. I just…I’m surprised by you, is all.”

“Surprised by…what, about me?”

“You take care of people here, at the Last Drop,” Blue said, and she glanced up at Vi. “You know the reputation you have in Zaun’s streets, don’t you?”

“A bit. Entertain me, cupcake.” Just how much did Blue study her, as Vi did to Blue?

Did she see the beast?

Blue pursed her lips, hiding a small smile. “You can’t possibly think I’m ignorant enough to not hear about your bouts in the fighting rings. Or, how, just a week ago, you beat down one of Renni’s men for throwing a fit in the backrooms here at the Last Drop.”

“He had it coming,” Vi said immediately. The man had somehow managed to smuggle a knife past Scar and into the damn bar and he’d taken a swing at a Kiramman lieutenant; Vi had made sure she’d put the man in his place, her knuckles bloodied red, before she’d dragged his sorry ass outside and kicked him to the curb.

And the fighting rings were just extra money, money that helped Jinx, Ekko, and their team. It was always just for the money, nothing more, nothing less.

The beast in Vi bared its fangs. Vi didn’t look at it.

“So I heard,” Blue said. She took another sip of her tea. “Every low tier worker I’ve spoken to speaks highly of visiting your bar, too. You’re not lying when you say this place is a safe haven for many people. You protect your own. Like Vander would.”

Vi considered Blue’s words, watched her with an unblinking gaze, and Blue just calmly stared back, sipping her drink.

They both studied each other. Danger brushed its fingers down Vi’s spine. She’d said it herself earlier; she wasn’t supposed to get into people’s businesses, and people weren’t supposed to get into hers. So, then, why did she talk so much to Blue? Why did she reveal so much about herself, and why did Blue do the same?

But Vi had said it earlier too. Danger came with the job. Danger came with Zaun.

Danger came with Blue. She was an unknown. Vi couldn’t figure her out. Blue was obviously trying to figure her out too.

But danger always tasted like a sweet thrill, and beasts were always drawn to danger.

“You fight quite hard to preserve the sanctity of the Last Drop. You wouldn’t have to if you just threw your lot in with a baron. But, you don’t.”

Vi didn’t answer that.

“Vi.”

“Blue. Spit it out. What’re you really asking me?”

“Don’t you want things to be different around here?” Blue asked, and she leaned forward on the counter, arms crossed underneath her, and there was once again a fire in her gaze. “Don’t you?”

Vi lied by omission. “We’re done here.”

She turned around, tossing her rag over her shoulder, mug clenched tightly in her hand. She didn’t visit Blue the rest of the afternoon, despite feeling Blue’s stare burning down her back.

The beast in Vi wanted to go back to Blue, and sinks its teeth into that beautiful shade of blue.

—-

The next day in the early afternoon, before Blue came in at her usual time, Vi glanced up from the counter to see an old friend hunched and small, shuffling into his usual spot at the counter. He was one of the few folks down in Zaun that Vi knew personally—she’d known the man from Vander’s time, known him from when she was a preteen and the man hadn’t quite been hit yet by the greater woes of Zaun. He’d been a peddling merchant, selling junk and wares, but that business had fallen on harder times and Huck had been forced into every laborer’s nightmare down here.

Since the man had started working the mines, he’d become an entirely different person.

“Huck,” Vi said, coming forward, already prepping the man’s usual tankard of grisly beer, Vander’s version. “Shit, you’re here early. What happened?”

“Kiramman is what happened,” he muttered, his spindly hands coming forward and grasping the tankard. “Didn’t you hear, Vi?”

“Hear what?”

“Last night, Kiramman’s troops raided the mines. Took out Chross's guards,” Huck said, peering down into the depths of his tankard. “They did a huge sweep. Took over a huge chunk of Chross’s stakes in the mines,” he emphasized.

Vi sighed, deeply. Fuck, another imminent gang war. “So, doesn’t explain why you’re here. Changing owners doesn’t change much.”

She’d heard this story many times before. Gang wars, one chembaron switching assets with another, but management’s attitudes always stayed the same. Work ‘til you die, or die sooner rather than later. Not a lot of options for vertical movement in that line of work.

“S’what I thought,” Huck said, and then he glanced up at her. “But today—Kiramman’s people came in. Made new schedules. Mandatory days off, strict working hours, no overtime. Shifts aren’t fucked up. I have today off.”

That made no sense. Since when did the Kirammans do shit like this? The family was known for their weapons dealings, their empire in regulating almost any and all trade of illegal goods in and out of Zaun. Since when did the Kirammans get themselves involved in the local mining business?

“How’re they gonna make money like that?” Vi’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Dunno. Not my problem,” Huck muttered. “Look, I’m just waiting for the ball to drop. I dunno anything about the Kirammans other than they’re really big on ‘order’ and what not, but I figure they’ve got another angle on this. I’m preppin’ myself for that.”

“Crazy,” Vi said. “Well, keep yourself safe. Pretty sure Chross is gonna hit back with a vengeance against the Kirammans.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Huck sighed—but then he started coughing, the sound coming from deep within his lungs, and Vi reached a hand out and clapped the poor man on the back.

“Th-thanks, Vi,” Huck wheezed. “Shit, it’s been months, and that damn flu’s left some of its teeth in me, huh?”

“Doesn’t help you’re choking soot and coal everyday.” Concerned, Vi slid him a glass of water too, just in case. “Take it easy on the beer, alright? And hey, flu’s no joke. Last winter’s wave wasn’t fucking around.” Even Vi had had to take a few sick days to recover. Healthcare in Zaun wasn’t a regular or consistent thing, and sickly bodies more often than not disappeared when sketchy doctors and rippers roamed the streets for prey. Just another lovely trait about Zaun and all its shittiness; death came for you, one way or another, either at the end of a blade, a bullet, or the by the tongue of plague.

“Might be here for a bit, if that’s alright with you, Vi. Just wanna appreciate what peace I have before I gotta go back to the mines tomorrow,” Huck said, grimacing. He reached a trembling hand out and took a sip of water.

“Take your time. Lemme know when you need a refill on that shit beer.”

Now that got Huck to crack a small smile, the balding man’s face managing just a bit of lightheartedness during these weighted times. “You’ll get a taste of Vander’s beer when you’re older, Vi. I bet you that.”

“Shut up, Huck.”

Soon after Huck arrived, a few more groups of miners came into the bar, and it was a rare thing for Vi to actually need to bustle around in the early afternoon, serving up drinks, tankards, mugs. It was bizarre in more ways than one—some of the other miners, less steeped in pessimism like Huck, actually stuffed themselves into booths with whoops and cheers, grins on their soot-stained faces as they clanked all their tankards together, beer slopping over the edges as they all drank their fill to celebrate their day off. Crowds of miners in the evenings tended to have a more dour air, so seeing these beatdown workers actually celebrating caught Vi a little off guard. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t steal from their joy, and she laughed and made light conversation with them all the same.

They all reiterated what Huck had said. Kiramman coming in, Kiramman changing things, Kiramman letting them all go for the day.

Something prickled the back of Vi’s neck again, and the beast dug its claws forward, wanting to know more. But Vi, as always, wouldn’t confront it, or look at it, or indulge it. She shouldn’t delve further into this, think more about this, not when danger loomed so close.

So busy was Vi tending to customers that she ended up missing Blue taking her usual seat at the counter.

Panting, Vi rushed to her, rolling up the sleeves of her sweat-stained button-up. “Shit, sorry, Blue, didn’t catch you. Been busy today.”

Blue looked up from where she’d been scrawling in her notebook, and she smiled as Vi came close. “Oh? What’s the occasion?”

Vi told Blue as much as the miners had told her, and Blue glanced at the filled booths, the miners joyously clanking tankards.

“Mm,” Blue hummed. “That’s good to hear. It seems like things are changing.”

Vi snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up. There’ll just be another gang war and all these people will just get caught in the middle, like most folk do when chembarons start butting heads.”

Blue glanced at her. “Maybe. Maybe we can hope that the Kirammans will prevent that.”

“Dunno about that. You put a lotta faith into people who don’t give a damn about the people down here,” Vi said.

For a long moment, Blue said nothing, but she opened and closed her mouth several times, as if trying to find the right thing to say.

“Make me a drink to celebrate the good mood in the Last Drop,” Blue finally said. “And, I’d like to share said drink with you. I think you could stand to have a bit of joy too, Vi. You can’t let the world always beat you down. I have a close friend who says progress is only ever built on hope for a brighter future.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“Vi, please.” Blue’s beautiful face could convince even the most stalwart to go to war for her. Her beauty was unbelievable.

With a sigh, Vi gave in, easily. “Alright, alright. I won’t be such a downer. I’ll whip you up something good, alright?”

Choosing to make a favorite of hers, Vi got the ingredients out of the cellar again. A steeply done black tea started as the foundation, then mixed together with sparkling pussywillow water, a dollop of Shuriman vanilla syrup, and then a squeeze of fermented lemon.

“One Ruthless Hound for you, Blue,” Vi said, sliding the glass towards her. “Hope you enjoy it.”

“Ruthless Hound?” Blue laughed. “Naming drinks after yourself, I see. I didn’t figure you as one for an ego.”

“This just you asking for a drink to be named after you, Blue?” Vi asked, cracking a smile.

“Maybe. What kind of drink would you make for me?”

“I’d have to think about it. It takes a while to make a good drink, and you deserve a really good one.” Vi leaned an elbow on the counter, amused.

“Well, I can spend a few more cogs, if that’ll get some ideas going for you,” Blue said.

This, the banter. It did uplift Vi’s heart—stuff like this, getting to be on better terms with the Last Drop’s regulars, getting to carve out a single piece of joy in this dark city really made the job worth it. A heavy responsibility as it was, Vi enjoyed the greater parts of it all the same.

“Hah, I’ll think on it. Give me a little bit, alright?” Vi nodded her head at the glass. “Now, take a sip. Let me know what you think of it.”

Blue raised the glass to her lips, holding eye contact with Vi the whole time as she took a sip. Her lips pursed at the taste; the depth of flavor from the black tea, then the bubbling from the water, then no doubt the lingering aftertaste of the syrup and lemon.

“Quite a ride,” Blue said softly. “Tastes just like you, I think.”

Tongue in cheek, Vi raised her eyebrows. “Really.”

“Really.” Blue met Vi’s gaze head-on, unfaltering. “Quaint, on the surface, but wild underneath.”

Vi huffed, putting her hands on her hips, but it was hard to find the words to reply. Teeth digging into her bottom lip, all Vi could do was look at the woman and shake her head.

“Now, share it with me. Take a drink.” Blue chuckled, and she pushed the glass towards Vi.

Vi waved a hand. “Hah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“Vi, I’m serious. Please. You’ve served everyone else here. I think you deserve to serve yourself too.”

“It’s my job to serve you,” Vi said, but again, discomfort poked at her. These were words she’d heard before, but words she’d never really believed in, not when she was so averse to seeing the world harm her loved ones. Figures she’d be born and raised in the most harmful place on the damn planet.

“If you insist upon that, then as a paying customer, I’d also argue it’s your job to reward yourself from time to time,” Blue said. With a flick of her wrist, she procured another cog between her fingers, holding it up in front of Vi with a smile. “A cog for you to indulge me. Share this drink with me.”

Those blue eyes. They were so easy to fall into, to believe, to want. Vi couldn’t look away.

“Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, Blue.” Reaching out, Vi meant to grab the glass—

But instead, Blue quickly took the glass in her hand, raising it to her lips and taking a sip before deftly turning the glass and offering it to Vi, the side of the glass her mouth had touched facing Vi.

“Yours,” Blue said.

Shaking her head but fighting back a wild grin, Vi took the glass, held Blue’s gaze, and deliberately placed her lips on the glass just exactly where Blue had done the same. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, the drink that started out with a quiet taste that shot up to a full blown explosion of flavor as it went clear through her mouth and over her tongue.

Vi lowered the glass, and slid it between them. Blue only watched her with a devious smile, satisfaction in the curve of her mouth and the glint of her eyes.

“You look cute when you’re enjoying yourself,” Blue said, tone low, leaning forward.

“And you’re pretty hot when you’re bossing me around,” Vi came close, too, the two of them just inches apart over the counter.

“And what else am I, Vi?” Blue said, holding back a laugh. “I accept backhanded compliments as much as I do regular ones from you.”

“Okay, that’s another five cogs,” Vi said; for once, she let herself indulge at being so close to Blue, let her eyes wander down the woman’s form-fitting black sweater. “I’m starting to suspect you just come to the Last Drop not for the drinks, but just so I can be your hype girl.”

“Maybe. I could be lying to you about liking your drinks, Vi. Maybe I just come here for the good view when I do my work.” Blue’s gaze flickered to Vi’s bare forearms, tattooed ink on full display with her sleeves rolled up to her biceps.

“If you really think my drinks are shit, you’re a bad liar, Blue,” Vi smirked.

“Fine. I can be forward. Vi, I like working here because I get to see you. The drinks are just an additional benefit, but you’re the main course,” Blue said, and now that got Vi to feel just the slightest bit flustered, because Blue was completely serious, and one of her hands had slipped forward, her fingers brushing Vi’s arm.

“I—well, um, speaking of, I do think you have a lot of work to get to, yeah? You always seem like you have a lot on your plate,” Vi said, clearing her throat, and she nodded at Blue’s notebook next to them, full of its usual coded scrawl and scribble.

Blue sighed, pulling away. Finally, Vi got to breathe for a second.

“The work is difficult, but worth it,” Blue said, glancing at her notebook. Her fingers brushed its encoded pages, the black ink scribbled unintelligibly. “But you’re right, I should return to work. Thank you, Vi, for the drink. And the attention,” she added with a smile, but it wasn’t quite as full as the others had been. Reality was only ever a constant reminder at their backs, and Vi knew no amount of drink could ever make it go away.

“Anytime,” Vi said softly. Instinctively, she reached her hand out, brushed her thumb across Blue’s cheek. Blue eyes widened, but the woman didn’t move from Vi’s touch; she almost leaned into it. “Take it easy, and let me know if you need anything else,” Vi added, turning away.

—-

That night, when Vi did a round of the backrooms to check that the gang members meeting back here weren’t doing anything to violate the rules of the place, she heard frenzied and frantic whispers from one room—then, loud swearing, and then a general from Chross’s group hastily jerked a door open, limping down the hallway, clearly sporting several patched up injuries across his body. A beat later, a captain from Renni’s gang slipped out a second after, and then an agent from Renata’s clan also stalked out, the two of them hurrying to depart. They ignored Vi as they passed her, the three of them clearly absorbed in their own problems, safe in knowing Vi would never ask them about it.

Vi, however, didn’t miss the panicked look on Chross’s man, nor did she miss the frightened and apprehensive expressions from Renni’s and Renata’s people either.

As Vi served the customers out on the bar floor, stacking cups and glasses on a tray before hauling it all back behind the bar for refills, she couldn’t help but notice the demeanor of the miners. Many were still beat down, of course, but as Vi slid tankards of beer towards the miners crowding the booths, more than a handful gave her grateful smiles with sparks in their eyes.

They were different. Whatever Kiramman’s people had said to them, they clearly believed it. And whatever it was the Kirammans had done to Chross’s people, it’d clearly unnerved the other gangs.

But Vi had lived here long enough to know the truth. Chembarons couldn’t be trusted. Vi trusted Huck’s opinion; the Kirammans so obviously had an angle to this, to taking the mines and getting the miners on good footing, but no one knew what it was just yet. Whatever was going on, Vi knew she could do nothing but wait for the shoe to drop, and no doubt the other chembarons were holding their breath and waiting for it too.

And, maybe, the beast in her was also waiting in the wings for news.

It was only a week later that Vi heard about it.

She was in the cellar in the early morning, checking on her different blends of teas, wondering just what kind of concoction she could make that could live up to Blue’s standards. She wanted something that seemed smooth, on the surface, but livened up over time in the aftertaste. Blue deserved a drink named after her that would taste like her too—and Vi suspected the woman had a lot more going on with her just underneath the surface.

A warning whispered words into Vi’s head. She shouldn’t swim too far into the ocean blue when she couldn’t see the extent of the depths.

But then Vi thought of Blue’s eyes again, those eyes that looked at her and tugged, pulled. She was so sweet. It couldn’t possibly do Vi any harm to just make her drinks.

Then Vi heard hurried footsteps stumbling down the staircase, and she looked around a shelf to see Jinx booking it towards her.

“Hey, sis—”

“Vi—Vi.” Jinx came to a crashing stop in front of Vi, and she was stark pale, eyes wide. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Vi made a face. “I woke up and got to work. Haven’t had time to talk to people. What happened?”

“Chross,” Jinx said. “He’s—he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Vi pulled down a giant glass bottle of tea from the shelf, opening the cap and taking a sniff.

“I mean, he’s gone.” Jinx looked at her, grave, lines written deep into the twist of her mouth. “The Kirammans—Vi, they hanged his body outside their manor. He’s dead. They killed the guy.”

A sharpened chill shot down Vi’s spine, and she slowly put the glass bottle back on the shelf.

“H-how do you know that guy’s Chross? No one’s ever seen—”

“Because all his right hand mans were hanged next to him,” Jinx said. “It’s the real deal, Vi. The Kirammans even had a spokesperson outside. His entire gang? All gone. The Kirammans wiped him clean out.”

“That’s,” Vi started, trying to think about this insane impossibility. “That can’t be real.”

It’d been ages since there’d been a shift, or a change in the status quo of chembarons. Some gangs had internal coups, generals shooting for the grand spot and taking over, some clans like the Kirammans and the Glascs inherited their title from within the family, and ever so rarely, an opening popped up when another chembaron took a lucky shot at another. The latter though was always a rare occurrence; chembarons so rarely left their estates or headquarters for a reason, given the constant danger and risk that lurked on every street corner, when every rival gang member could just be a street away with a shiv in hand. As long as Vi had been alive, she’d never heard of a chembaron actually getting murdered.

For a chembaron like Chross to die, that had to imply that the Kirammans must’ve stormed his armored base, surrounded by insane machinery and mechanisms that made finding its center like traversing a maze. Vi knew this because the Firelights had done endless recon on Chross’s base plenty of times; however he’d done the mechanisms of his entire fortress, he’d done it in a way such that the maze constantly shifted and changed at the tick and tock of every hour, making no route to the center long-lasting, and aerial traversal meant getting targeted by a thousand cannons or ballistas on the ramparts. Only high level generals ever knew the day’s path to Chross—every other grunt was relegated to the outer perimeter and factories of Chross’s domain.

“Oh, it’s real, Vi,” Jinx said grimly. “Ekko and I dropped by Chross’s place earlier. Something—something blasted a hole straight through to the center.”

“How’s that possible? You’d—”

“Need something super powerful, yeah,” Jinx finished. “I dunno, Vi. Kiramman’s—that family’s got something up their sleeve, and I have no fucking idea what it is, but it’s insane enough to punch through at least a mile of defenses.”

Glancing around, Vi leaned in. Hushed, she asked, “So…what are we doing about it?”

The Firelights. The last bastion of sanity in Zaun. The only people willing to gun it against all chembarons at once.

The only people willing to wish and dream for a better future for Zaun.

“Ekko’s…calling off any raids on Kiramman ships and trucks,” Jinx muttered. “Until we can figure out just what the fuck it is they have, he doesn’t think it’s safe to go after them right now.”

“I agree,” Vi said. She reached out and held firmly onto her sister’s arm. “Let this shit cool down. Whatever feud Kiramman’s got with Chross, it’s over now, so lay low and wait until the smoke clears.”

“That’s just it, Vi,” Jinx hissed. “I don’t think Kiramman’s gonna calm down anytime soon.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, Vi, but word on the street is—shit’s different with the Kirammans.” Jinx pulled away, wringing her hands up and down as she paced back and forth between the shelves. “I’m getting the heebie jeebies, Vi, somethin’ don’t feel right here and I don’t know what. Ekko’s had a tail on them, and Kiramman guys keep going into the mines after dark for something.”

“For what?”

“Don’t know. But they’re planning something big, I can feel it.”

“Then don’t fuck around and find out,” Vi said, harsh. “We can’t play stupid right now when we don’t know what’s going on.”

“I’m agreeing, Vi, don’t fucking bite my head off. I’m just—just saying. Watch yourself, and let me know if you hear anything here at the Last Drop, alright?” Jinx darted back to the stairs, her long pigtails swinging as she snapped her head to look at Vi. “Stay safe, sis.”

“You too.”

Then Jinx was gone, and Vi let herself breathe again.

A chembaron. Dead.

That prickle at the back of her neck, though. It shivered itself down Vi’s spine, passing a full shudder through her chest. Still standing by a shelf, Vi turned to stare at her own reflection, curved and warped in the shape of a blue glass bottle.

Vi didn’t acknowledge the feral grin that shone back at her, the whites of her teeth showing, the hound in her howling with the thrill at knowing finally, the man whose men had conscripted and kidnapped all manners of orphans in Zaun, shoved them into assembly lines and forced them to lose not just a childhood but limbs, fingers, hands, arms, all to build horrific machinations of war was finally, blessedly, dead.

Tearing her face away, Vi used her hand to work her face back to normal, but the beast in her never quieted.

—-

Later that afternoon, Vi was once again serving a few miners on their day off when she looked up to see Blue entering the bar—this time, with a companion at her side, a tall man with a broad chest and a handsome face. From afar, Vi gave Blue a nod—who returned the greeting with a bright smile—before she headed to the counter, where Blue and her friend took a seat down at Blue’s usual spot.

Cautious, Vi came close. “Got a friend today, I see.”

Clearly eager to see Vi, Blue said, “Yes! Vi, I’m so excited you get to meet—um. Hammer Man.”

“Hammer Man?” said the man, looking horrendously offended. “That’s the nickname you gave me?”

“We can’t use real names here,” Blue hissed, gesturing at Vi. “It’s the rules. And you do—do things, with hammers. A lot.”

The man rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, then turned in his seat to regard Vi with a serious expression. “Miss Vi, of the Last Drop, you may address me as The Man of Progress.”

He held his hand out while sporting a boyish grin, all whites and flashing teeth. Next to him, Blue looked at Vi expectantly, excitement clear in her face and her posture, the woman leaning forward on the counter.

Vi took a second to gauge her new customer. The man was dressed head to toe similarly to Blue, black pants with a turtleneck black sweater and a gold-buckle belt, but again, adorned with no symbol of a baron. Though his clothes were simple in color and appearance, like Blue’s, the man’s clothing showed no sign of wear and tear, no sign of poverty.

But as Vi shook his hand, Vi could feel the roughened texture of his palms; whatever work it was he did, it was physical and intensive and he did it all himself. A laborer, but well-dressed. Vi found it hard to read just who and what the man was. He couldn’t be a miner—none of the other miners in the bar seemed to recognize him, and nor was the light in his eyes dimmed by the depression of the underground. He was alive, sparks in his gaze that Vi only saw once in a blue moon when Ekko or Jinx cracked the code on a new piece of tech.

“Uh, I’ll just call you ‘Pretty Boy,’ I think,” Vi said, holding back a small laugh. She glanced at Blue, then Pretty Boy. “So, what’s the occasion? Never seen you bring a, uh, date here.”

Immediately, Blue and Pretty Boy made disgusted faces at each other.

“Not a date,” Blue said immediately. “He’s—more like a sibling, to me.”

“She’s a little brat to me, is what she is,” Pretty Boy said, and Vi snorted in amusement.

“My little sis is like that too,” Vi said, and that earned her a grin from Pretty Boy.

“Your little sis enjoy bossing you around too?” Pretty Boy playfully nudged Blue, who shoved him back in return.

“I get a sense Blue here likes to be the big dog in the house, huh?” Vi asked, chuckling.

“You don’t even know—” Pretty Boy started.

“Anyway, the occasion, if you’re both done making fun of me,” Blue started emphatically, once again procuring cogs into the palm of her hand, sliding them across the counter towards Vi. “Is a celebration. We both did well at work recently, and I thought it best we celebrate together by having some drinks here at the Last Drop.”

“Ah, right! C—” Pretty Boy started, but he was immediately cut off by Blue abruptly and immediately whipping her hand upwards, clapping her hand over his mouth.

She moved so fast.

“Blue, here, Pretty Boy,” Blue hissed in his ear, and Vi could see how Blue’s hand clamped down tighter on Pretty Boy’s mouth, the man’s noises muffled by her palm. “Don’t forget that. Don’t break Vi’s rules.”

“Thanks,” Vi said; she wasn’t sure of what to make of their dynamic, the interactions at play here, the strange feeling she got at seeing Blue so adamantly defend the laws of the Last Drop. “You new to Zaun, or something, Pretty Boy?”

Blue took her hand away from Pretty Boy’s mouth, and the man took in a deep breath, rubbing his face before answering. “Sort of.” The man made an uncertain gesture with his hand. “My partner lives here full time, and I only visited on occasion—I’m kinda a traveling researcher, sort of.”

“Ah, worldly kind of guy. How’re you liking Zaun, then?”

“It has its quirks,” Pretty Boy said, corner upturned into a boyish grin. “Lots of—uh, old historical material to work with.”

“Ah, I see. History buff, huh?”

“Sort of. I’m kinda more into the ‘modernizing’ ancient methods of…uh, fun,” he said hastily to Blue’s scathing look. “Blue here’s been helping me with my research, so I think I’ll be in Zaun for a while.”

“You’ll stay in Zaun for as long as I want you to,” Blue said dryly. “He’s underplaying himself, Vi. He’s a brilliant, talented man. I think his inventions will change the world.”

“You might say they already are,” Pretty Boy said under his breath, to which Blue shot him another look.

Clearing her throat, Vi tapped the counter with a finger. “Anyway, if you’re celebrating, we doin’ alcohol or not?”

“Not,” Blue said. “We’ve still got work to do. I just wanted to treat him today for a job well done. And, we can’t stay here long—work is work, you know.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll spruce somethin’ up real quick for you both. Got a preference, Pretty Boy?” Vi asked.

“I mean, I know she’s here to celebrate me, but I wanna celebrate her too. Couldn’t have done my job without her,” Pretty Boy said with a warm smile as he affectionately nudged Blue’s arm. “So, Vi, how ‘bout somethin’ blue, and snappy?”

Vi chuckled. “You got it.”

Vi whipped out nonalcoholic silver rum to start out at the base before adding in a bit of pineapple juice atop. A squeeze of lime juice came after, basic syrup next for a bit of flavor, and then for the coloring, Vi added a bit of blue curaçao syrup—once she poured it all out of the shaker and into two glasses set with cubed ice, the brilliant blue shades of the drink came shining through. She topped off the edges of the glasses with slices of freshly cut orange. The drink as a whole would be fruity, sweet, a little exciting, but hopefully not overbearing.

“Does this particular drink have a name?” Blue asked as Vi slid the two blue-colored glasses forward.

“Ah, nah. It’s just a drink I picked up from a friend from Bilgewater,” Vi said with a shrug, leaning an elbow on the counter. “You wanna give it a name?

“I propose, the Hexdrink,” Pretty Boy said immediately, holding his glass up, admiring the shade of blue throughout the drink.

An elbow in his chest from Blue made Pretty Boy oomph and he winced as Blue shot him a look.

“Right, sorry, stupid name,” he wheezed.

“Drink,” Blue ordered, and Pretty Boy nodded.

Pretty Boy took a sip of his drink, his expression immediately exploding into absolutely stunned joy and excitement—Vi had to admit, he and Blue both sported the same youthful looking expressions of excitement and eagerness, mirroring each other, siblings to the core.

“Told you Vi was incredible, didn’t I?” Blue said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re really that good, Vi! Been hearing so many stories about you. You’re really worth your salt,” Pretty Boy said, leaning in with a teasing grin. “Blue here talks about you all the time—”

Another oomph, another elbow in his gut.

Vi bit back a grin, glancing at Blue, who fast had her cheeks turning pink. “Oh, yeah? What do you tell other people about me, Blue? I wanna know.”

“She’s obsessed—” Pretty Boy started.

“Okay, we need to go.” Blue hurriedly stood up, tossed a few more cogs on the counter, and shotgunned the rest of her drink before clamping her hand down on Pretty Boy’s arm. In his ear, she hissed, “I am never bringing you out here again—!”

“Just let me finish—!” Pretty Boy frantically tried to chug down the rest of his glass—

Blue turned to Vi, her face graced with a smile. “Vi, thank you for the drink. We’ll be going now.”

“Y-yeah, th-thanks! Nice meeting you!” Pretty Boy quickly slid his glass back onto the counter before Blue dragged him stumbling out of the Last Drop.

Chuckling to herself, Vi got to work cleaning up their left behind glasses, and she had to admit, she didn’t think someone as regal and refined as Blue could act so…childish, almost, innocent, in a way. The fact that she had some semblance of family, a sibling that could tease and poke her out of her formal personality made Vi a little more curious about her.

But…still. Pretty Boy. His demeanor. His clothing. He was too cheeky, too boyish, too bright to be a chembaron’s general but neither did he sport the heavy depression that miners carried in their pockets. He was someone else entirely, just like Blue. Wherever they came from, they’d come from it together.

For a moment, as Vi washed the glasses in the sink, she did something dangerous.

She thought about Blue, and she thought about Pretty Boy. She thought of where these two might come from, their clothing so clearly meant to make them anonymous and unaffiliated with any baron—but then danger breathed down the back of her neck, the beast once again grinning, waiting with bated breath for her to cross the line and to know too much.

Cutting the thoughts clear from her head, Vi moved on with her day, refusing to think further on it. She wouldn’t let danger have a chance to slip a knife around her throat.

But danger seemed to come to her—or at least, its approach was fast coming.

Generally, Vi visited the docks herself to pick up supplies and restock on drinks and things that came imported from the rest of Runeterra because frankly, the quality kind of spirits and alcohol came from afar. Piltover had northern vineyards that weren’t bad but Vi’s tastes leaned towards more refined wines that came only from Ionia and Noxus. Since inheriting her title as the Last Drop’s proprietor from Vander, Vi had kept close with his overseas connections and established new ones too—it did well to have multiple traders ready to source things she might need to keep the bar the best ran one in town, and Vi never skimped out on spending the cogs to ensure she had the best. As limited in diversity as the drinks were when it came to the big spenders, Vi at least took comfort in knowing chembaron generals were interested in dropping bags of cogs on appearing like the biggest dog in the room, and usually an expensive vintage did the job at conveying the message.

For very rare, exclusive goods, Vi had established a rapport with an infamous pirate named Sarah Fortune.

A few days after Pretty Boy’s surprise visit, Vi went down to the docks in the early morning, sporting her leather jacket emblazoned with the hounds. She managed to make it unscathed down to Zaun’s ports, a feral snarl on her expression dissuading anyone too stupid to recognize her emblem, and she slipped down the length of the—surprisingly empty—harbor to find a single familiar ship at the end. Its mast sported a flag that had twin hand cannons crossed over each other, over a medallion outlined by kraken tentacles rising from the background.

Nodding to the pirate standing guard at the entrance bridge to the ship, Vi hopped on board—and she spotted the famed pirate queen herself standing at the quarterdeck, waving a hand at Vi.

“Vi! You made it.”

“I’d never miss my favorite queen of the seas,” Vi said with a grin, hopping up the steps to meet Sarah. The two firmly grasped hands, camaraderie strong between them both after so many years. Coin made for a good relationship, after all.

“I’m the only queen of the seas, Vi,” Sarah drawled, rolling her eyes, but she gave Vi a hard pat on the shoulder anyway. Still, something seemed forced about her smile as she looked Vi up and down. “You’re looking good as always, you old dog.”

“Old? Okay, great-grandma, let me get you your cane then.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, and she mimed whipping out one of the hand cannons at her hips and firing it at Vi. “It’s sacrilege to fire shots at a ship captain when on her ship, you know.”

“Sucks to be you, then, Miss Fortune,” Vi said breezily with a cocky grin. “Sacrilege is usually on my list of daily todos. It usually comes before blasphemy but after heresy. Heard that’s something pirates are into?”

Now that got Sarah to laugh. “Ah, I’ve missed you, Vi. You never pull your punches.”

“Been a couple months, huh? Hope things have been good with you and the seas,” Vi said, grinning.

Another forced smile, and this time, Vi could see something—apprehension?—-flicker in Sarah’s gaze. “It’s been better. But you, though. Was worried you’d keel over and bite the dust with all the shit in Zaun.”

“The only thing I bite is a good deal,” Vi said. “So, c’mon, let’s get to business. Whatcha got for me, Fortune?”

“I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news,” Sarah said, and her expression turned uncharacteristically serious. She gestured for Vi to follow her, and the two walked over to the stern, Sarah leaning an elbow on the railing, the sea breeze ruffling her long, red hair as she turned to look out over the harbor.

“Alright, lay it on me, Sarah.”

“What do you see out there, Vi?” Sarah asked, nodding her head out at the ocean.

“You’re gonna give me the bad news, aren’t you?” Vi asked, making a face.

Sarah continued to stare out at the waters. “Vi. I’m serious. Listen.”

The warning in Sarah’s voice was clear. Vi glanced around the ship and noticed Sarah’s sailors were all sharpening their blades or checking their gun cannons, their eyes darting here and there across the harbor, more vigilant and watchful than usual. Normally Sarah’s crew were a jovial bunch—to see them silent and in a state of looking like they were prepping for an attack made the hairs on the back of Vi’s neck stand on end.

Then Vi turned to stare out at the ocean—the ocean Sarah hadn’t taken her eyes off of, her gaze sharp, honed in on the waters like a hawk.

Vi breathed in. Tasted salty air. The sea breeze. Out in the ocean, Vi noted the darkened waters, the grayer skies, the color of the sea almost black.

Another glance around. Sarah’s ship was the only ship docked at the harbor. Zaun’s harbors were for the underbelly and seedy of trade, and illegal goods and substances were the general export and import into the wretched city—Vi had lived here long enough to know the harbors were almost always full to bursting, traders seeking to pawn off things they shouldn’t have or businessmen seeking to strike their fortune at riskier enterprises.

So why was the place…empty?

Vi glanced at Sarah, who still hadn’t moved, her eyes still set out to the rest of the harbor.

With a deep breath, Vi closed her eyes, and listened.

“Where’s the birds?” Vi asked in the unnerving silence.

She opened her eyes to see Sarah finally looking at her, the woman’s expression something that Vi’s never seen before.

Sarah was usually all smiles, grins, flirtatious to an almost insulting degree. She was Bilgewater’s reigning ruler, and the seas’ most fearsome foe—rarely had Vi ever seen the woman lack for confidence or show even a semblance of fear.

But now?

Vi swallowed, locking her spine, her hands instinctively curling into fists.

“Vi,” Sarah said, glancing around, and she leaned in close; Vi did the same. “Vi—I need to tell you. You’ve been a good partner to me, and for the sake of what we’ve accomplished together, I’m giving you a few extra crates of supplies, on the house. Should keep the bar supplied for a while.”

“That’s the good news,” Vi said, tense. “Sarah, what’s the bad news?”

“I’m not coming back here. Not for a while, anyway.” Sarah leaned back, the woman putting a hand on one of her infamous hand cannons resting at her hip. “Vi, if I were you? I’d get the hell out of this city. Animals don’t—they don’t leave like this, unless they know a storm’s coming. And this one? I think it’s a big one.” Sarah did a nod at the ocean, and then the town behind them.

“What makes you say that?”

Sarah worked her jaw, and once again, her gaze skirted over the seas. “Last night, I saw something insane. I should’ve listened to Illaoi. She’s always right.”

“What happened? Sarah, stop beating around the fucking bush and tell me what’s going on with you,” Vi demanded.

“Last night—there were at least ten other ships in this harbor,” Sarah said. “Five were docked, another five were just out in the harbor, idling. And you know what I saw last night? I saw all ten of them blow up, all within seconds of each other. All of them were reduced to ash. All of them. There’s nothing left—there wasn’t even debris left, not a piece or chunk of ship or crew left behind. They were just—vaporized. I’m not lying to you, you can ask any of my crewmen and they’ll say the same thing. Vi, those ships are gone.”

“That’s…that’s not possible,” Vi said, but she could hear how stupid her echo sounded because the way Sarah looked now? The woman had seen ghosts before, but this was beyond that; this was Sarah Fortune herself seeing the devil’s instruments at play and choosing to turn away.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen battle before but this wasn’t—this wasn’t a battle. It was just a massacre. It was—the whole harbor lit up with all the blue from the explosions,” Sarah said, exhaling, and she shook her head, her stare hard as she looked out at the harbor. “My woman in the bird’s nest got to read the flags on most of the ships before they were wiped out. Vi, I knew some of these captains. Some were assholes, sure, but none of them deserved what they got. That’s not a way to die in these seas.”

“But—why were they blown up? Who—?”

“I think I know the why,” Sarah remarked, grim. “Most deal in contraband, obviously, but some of the ship captains—I know who they were doing business with, because I thought about gunning for their shares a long time ago but couldn’t get a good foothold. They were doing business with Renata, Margot, and Renni.”

“Okay, and?”

“Vi. There’s one chembaron none of these people were dealing with.”

Vi’s throat went dry. With Chross dead, that left the exact three Sarah had just listed…and one more, that was ostentatiously missing.

“No,” Vi breathed. “No, Sarah. You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t normally out trade secrets, nor am I in the business of revealing my clients—but a few months back, Vi, I struck an insane deal with the Kirammans,” Sarah said, and now she fully turned again to Vi, expression spine-shuddering serious. “The deal was too good to pass up. I’m their exclusive, one-and-only black market dealer, and they commissioned me to hunt for them some Vastayan and Shuriman artifacts. They didn’t—they didn’t even haggle. The pay was insane. They asked for the best pirate in Runeterra and they got me. I couldn’t say no.”

The Kirammans. Again. Doing something that didn’t make sense.

“Why would they want ancient junk?” Vi ran a hand through her hair, trying to figure out the angles of this. Vi then dragged a hand down her face, covering her mouth, because she wasn’t sure if the beast right now had control of it.

“I don’t care, honestly. I got what they wanted and delivered, and now I’m only back here to drop off some goods for you and only you,” Sarah said brusquely. “The point is, Vi, you should get the hell out of this city. The Kirammans—they have the capital and the power to take out this entire town in one go. Whatever this weapon it is they have, it’s enough to blow Zaun into a crater. I—look, you’ve always been more than a business partner to me.” Urgency slipped into Sarah’s tone, and she leaned forward, grasping Vi’s arm. “You’re a friend, and I can’t in good conscience leave this harbor without warning you about them.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Vi muttered. “I’m not—I’m not leaving, Sarah. This place is my home. But—look, can you tell me anything about the weapon? What did you see? Is there—is there anyway to stop it? Did you see—?”

“Not from the distance I was at. But Vi, listen to me. Illaoi’s even told me, not even Nagakabouros could stop whatever’s in these waters,” Sarah said. “Look, I’m good, Vi, but if a sea kraken can’t fight whatever’s taking out every ship in this port, then my two damn hand cannons and a ship with even the deadliest crew in all of Runeterra isn’t gonna cut it.”

Working her jaw, Vi put her hands on her hips and turned back and forth on the quarterdeck. “You think it’s that bad, Sarah. Bad enough for the baddest bitch I know to fucking run.”

“Don’t you dare call me out for cowardice, Vi,” Sarah snarled, meeting Vi’s glare with her own. “It’s my damn job to look after my crew, and I’ll be damned if I’m walking them straight into a massacre. I’m trying to look out for you too, you jackass. I never tell client secrets, but for you, I did.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose and screwing her eyes shut, Vi breathed out of her mouth, trying to find some semblance of light in this final deal between her and Sarah.

“Okay,” Vi said finally. “Okay, fine. I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—I can’t leave this place. It’s my home. And Zaun’s been going through shit lately with the Kirammans in general and it’s hard trying to figure out what to do about it.”

Sarah snorted. “You and every other baron I’m sure. The Kirammans are upping, changing their game. You ask me, I bet you they’re trying to clean up town.”

That much Vi agreed on. The Kirammans gunning it for all their rivals made sense; the only part that Vi didn’t know was how or when or with what. “Not arguing with you there, but…I get you. Do what you gotta do, Sarah. But, hey, for old time’s sake, wanna take bets on how long I live before the Kirammans blow up the whole city?”

Barking a humorless laugh, Sarah shook her head. “I’m not betting on that, Vi. You’re one of my favorite customers. And, honestly, you pay well. I need you to live so I can make a living.”

“Diversifying investments, I see.”

“A pirate’s gotta have a good sense of business.”

“It’s why I love doing business with you,” Vi said. “And it’s why I’m gonna miss you too, Fortune.” Vi extended her arms out for a hug, and Sarah’s expression softened before she too came in for the embrace.

“Even though you totally ripped me off that one time on that mead from Freljord,” Vi muttered, pulling away, and Sarah laughed.

“Hey, your fault for getting swindled.” Sarah smugly tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Not my problem you didn’t do your research.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’ll try and send you news if things calm down here,” Vi said. “Don’t want you gone forever. But seriously, you don’t think you could…I dunno, work something out with the Kirammans?”

Shaking her head, Sarah sighed. “I know these kinds of crime lords, Vi. I’m getting out of here before they think I’m a liability. And, honestly, from anyone’s perspective, pirates aren’t the most trustworthy of mercenaries.”

One of Sarah’s crew members would deliver Vi’s crates over to the Last Drop within the hour, and with that final act of business signed and completed, Vi reluctantly left the ship, stepping foot back on the harbor and turning behind her to wave one last goodbye to her old pirate friend, who simply lifted and raised her comical pirate’s hat in farewell.

Hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, Vi ruminated over Sarah’s urgent warnings, and she thought back to Jinx’s report on Kiramman’s raid on Chross’s fortress. This weapon. Whatever it was, it’d very obviously begun to tip the scales of power in Zaun, and she was certain that Renata’s, Renni’s, and Margot’s gangs would be clamoring for some kind of rebuttal or comeback—none were likely to stand still or sit still after all of their supply ships just got turned into ashes and dust in Zaun’s harbor. Already as Vi walked through the streets of Zaun, she spotted the flitting shadows of Renni’s messengers darting through alleyways and across rooftops, and she even saw a few of Renata’s people traveling in larger groups than normal, their eyes wary and vigilant as they moved through the streets, all of their hands stuck inside the pockets of their coats.

Again, the prickle at the back of Vi’s neck, the shudder down her spine. The beast in Vi purred at the sight of seeing these chembaron lackeys traveling with haste and horror in their step. Finally, finally. The chembarons could get a taste of what fear felt like. Of terror. Finally, finally, they were the prey.

The only problem, though, was that the hunters were the Kirammans. That was what common sense told Vi.

But the beast in Vi didn’t snarl or bite at the thought. Instead, it whispered words of satisfaction in Vi’s ear. It cared not for who was at the end of the scythe, only that someone was finally swinging it.

—-

When Vi returned to the Last Drop in the afternoon, Scar stood at his usual post outside as guard and bouncer, and Vi did a gesture with her hand for the two to talk. They spoke quickly in the cellar, Vi relaying her information and what she knew of the attack from the Kirammans on the harbor, and Scar gravely nodded—muttering he’d heard whispers about the attack this morning—before swiftly departing to take the news to Ekko and the others. The Firelights had been lying low for some time, Ekko wanting to see how the war between the barons played out—it made no sense to waste time or resources striking out now, especially when they didn’t know the full breadth of the playing field and neither did they know just what Kiramman’s infamous weapon was.

After Scar left, Vi took a few minutes to stand in the cellar, hand pressed against the wall, exhaling through her mouth and inhaling through her nose. With a trembling hand, Vi fumbled for a bottle of vodka next to her, and she ripped the cork off of it and chugged down a swing, wiping her mouth as the alcohol singed and burned her chest, down to her gut.

Danger. The Kirammans. Their undefeated weapon.

Blue explosions.

Vi looked at her reflection in the bottle of the glass, and once again, the beast’s feral and white-toothed grin stared back at her, warped and curved. It opened its mouth to whisper a truth—

Forcing down another swig, Vi clumsily shoved the bottle back onto the shelf and went back up to the bar, plastering on her human face again, knowing she could never drown the beast with fire.

In the meantime for the rest of the week, Vi did her usual job manning the bar at the Last Drop, serving drinks to the miners who had their days off.

It was strange reading the mood now of the miners who came by in the afternoons. Before Kiramman’s takeover about a month ago, none were stupid enough to openly voice strong opinions about the barons; almost everyone knew the poor and impoverished had bitter feelings on their overlords but were too overworked and crushed to rebel against it. Now, though, Vi wouldn’t call it…reverent, the way these miners spoke of the Kirammans, but something about the ecstatic tinge to their upturned mouths and the heavy breathing and praises spilled from their lips at the mere mention of the Kirammans made Vi sense that something was different.

When Vi delivered all the tankards of beer, immediately a group of them would grasp the handles and thrust the tankard high, calling for a cheer for Lady Kiramman. They would all lean in to tight groups, manic grins on their faces, hands fervently gesturing here and there as ‘Kiramman’ was whispered like a god’s name amongst them all.

Even Huck was caught by it.

“Huck, you doin’ alright?” Vi asked, coming around to Huck’s usual spot at the bar and she was horrifically taken aback at seeing the man now.

A week ago he’d been a little downtrodden, hunched, still soot-stained, and still a little wary about Kiramman’s takeover.

Now, the Huck that Vi looked at was a completely and entirely different man.

Huck grinned at her, straight-backed, his hair clean and combed back, his face completely spotless and devoid of dirt. His clothing, too—no longer was it marred and stained with the permanent black of the mines, it was unnervingly spotless and dust-free.

“Vi,” Huck smiled. “Good to see you. One usual, please.”

Unnerved, Vi filled a tankard for the man and slid it onto the counter. “Huck. You, uh, you look, um—”

“Better?” Huck said, and he puffed his chest out. It was so weird seeing him smile so big. “I had my doubts about the Kirammans, Vi, but they’re really good on their word. They’ve opened a community shelter of sorts near the mines. Anyone and everyone can come for help, food. They even accept volunteers! I’ve gotten a position as the Herald’s assistant.”

“The…herald? What? Is that…You mean, like, a Kiramman…general?” Vi asked.

“No, no. They don’t use such—barbaric, and uncouth words there.” Huck waved a hand, making a face; a stray hair came loose from his brow, and he quickly smoothed it back. “It’s a peaceful community, Vi. We’re all equals there. No weapons, no sigils—just brand new fresh starts for anyone willing to join and meet with the Herald. He’s the leader of the commune.”

“There’s no strings attached to this place?” Vi asked, suspicious.

“None! The Kirammans provide the funding for the community but for the most part, things are ran by the Herald. The Kirammans only ask for our loyalty in return, which is a given, of course.”

Vi couldn’t quite make heads nor tails of what Huck was saying, given her disbelief and suspicion were so strong. “You just…walk in, and, what, you get free food, free clothes? Just like that?”

“Exactly.” Huck aggressively nodded, and the way he leaned forward over the counter, the way the light of the lanterns hit his eyes—Vi could’ve sworn she saw the color of the man’s irises flash into a burst of different colors, but then it was gone as the man pulled away. “The food—Vi. You simply must try it. The Herald personally hands out the food and drinks himself. It’s his way of giving back to the community. Once you open your mind and body to the Herald’s creations, you’ll no longer feel worry, or pain, or fear. You must try it.”

Vi swallowed, and she took a small step away from the counter.

Huck’s face. It was almost…manic. His grin was too wide for his mouth, his eyes strangely switching colors in the lantern light.

“Uh, yeah. Someday,” Vi said hastily. “Look, I’ll—let you finish your beer, and you, uh, take it easy, alright, Huck?”

“You too as well, Vi.” Huck lowered his head, pressing a hand over his chest. “Please, visit the commune when you can. The Kiramman’s vision—the Herald’s vision—is a great one that you should experience.”

Pulling away from the counter, Vi was thankfully saved from the chaotic, ricocheting thoughts in her head when she saw Blue at her usual seat down at the end of the counter. With relief, Vi came close to Blue, and the woman looked up at her with a smile, her pen tapping against the scrawled pages of her notebook.

But the bags underneath her eyes. The weariness to her smile.

“Hey,” Vi said softly.

“Hi,” Blue returned.

“You alright? You look a bit worn down.” Leaning an arm on the counter, Vi looked over Blue once more, scrutinizing, studying. She was still put together, polished and astonishingly sharp, her usual ensemble of black clothing and gold buckles still clean and untarnished, but something about the slope of her shoulders, and the loose strand of hair that came loose over her face made Vi think there was more to see.

Always more to see with Blue. Always more underneath the surface.

“I’m…just tired, is all.” Blue briefly, closing her eyes, and Vi instinctively reached a hand up, brushing back the strand of hair from Blue’s face.

“Lotta work lately?” Vi asked.

“More than you can imagine. My team has some deadlines soon, so we’re all hands on deck for the next few weeks,” Blue sighed, opening her eyes, but leaning slightly into Vi’s touch. “But I have reliable coworkers. They’ve executed well so far on their project plans, so now I just need to follow through.”

“Sounds like you got a lot on your plate. You their…uh, manager?” Vi asked.

“In…a sense,” Blue said. “You could call me that, yes.” Then she glanced at Vi. “I assume you’re also familiar with the role.”

“Hah. More than you think,” Vi snorted. Being owner of the Last Drop was one set of responsibilities and duties; being the eldest sibling in a family loathe to follow rules made for another impossibly large set of burdens and commitments.

“Would you like to commiserate then, together?” Blue asked with a smile, and as usual, cogs appeared in her hand. “Manager to manager. Let’s drink and complain about our jobs, as I’ve heard people do sometimes in bars. I think we deserve that much.”

Vi laughed. “That sounds good to me. Hey, that reminds me. How ‘bout we go and talk somewhere more quiet?” There wasn’t that many people in the bar, but the chatter of the miners around the booths had removed the once-quiet and moody atmosphere from when they’d first met. With a gesture, Vi went around the counter and told Blue to wait there for a second.

First, there was a quick detour to the office upstairs to signal Thieram, Vi’s second-in-command and bartender alternate, to head down and man the bar; the man nodded, finished marking numbers on the ledgers, and then hopped downstairs to the bar.

Then, Vi went and got Blue, signaling for the woman to follow her, and she did—despite the questioning look on her face.

With a grin, Vi pointed to the door down to the cellar. “We can talk down there. Quieter, cooler, and I can show you some drinks I got goin’ down there.”

“Most girls would be put off by being invited into a basement,” Blue said with a raised eyebrow, but she nonetheless began taking the steps downstairs.

“Cellar, actually.” Vi followed behind.

“My point still stands.”

“Never took you to be like ‘most girls,’ though,” Vi said.

“Hm. I suppose…I’m not,” Blue answered.

“In fact,” Vi said, as the two reached the cellar bottom, Vi moving ahead to guide Blue around all the rows of shelves lined with bottles and drinks of all kinds. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Blue.”

Blue snorted. “I’d hope not.”

“Jealous?”

“I prefer my bartenders single, not taken.”

“Shaken, not stirred, got it.”

They both burst out laughing at that, pausing in an aisle between shelves, Vi grinning at her companion and Blue with a hand over her mouth, holding back giggles.

“I just…want you to know,” Vi started, and even in the dim, awful lighting of the cellar with a flickering light bulb that’d long since needed replacing, Blue’s eyes were as radiant as always; a light, even in the darkness. “I’m…I’m really happy to see you,” Vi said softly.

Blue’s fingers brushed down the length of Vi’s arm, and her gaze followed the trail she made. “Here I thought you liked seeing me because I’m a regularly paying customer.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said you come here for the good view, and not the drinks.”

Blue laughed. “Touché, Vi.” Gentler, with a small smile to her mouth, she added, “And I’m happy to see you too. Coming to the Last Drop, actually, is usually the highlight of my day.”

“I’m glad I can make your day a bit better, but is work usually that bad?”

“Sometimes,” Blue answered. “It has its off days, its good days.”

With a gesture, Vi had Blue follow her to some stacked crates along the wall; with a grunt, Vi shifted some crates around, giving them a roughshod place to sit amongst the shelves of glasses and bottles, the cobwebs in the corners and the dying lightbulb their only sources of company. Neither could hear the chatter or hum of the bar up above, finally putting them both in a quiet, private location, just for the two of them.

Not the most pristine of first dates, but Vi would take what she could get considering she was bartender in Zaun. They sat down next to each other, thighs brushing.

“So, without…breaking the rules,” Vi said. “What exactly do you…do?”

“You could say I…work for an environmental agency,” Blue said slowly, knocking her knee against Vi’s. “I’m…in the process of cleaning up a very heavy oil spill. There’s—so much work to be done. The citizens displaced by the efforts need to be taken care of, those responsible for the spill in the first place need to be brought to justice, the environment itself needs long lasting plans to ensure it can flourish in the long term. It’s a lot.”

Vi snorted. “Yeah, in Zaun, things like that are a dime a dozen.”

This city never knew the color green in the way nature intended for it to be seen.

“You’re telling me.”

“That’s what you’re working on, all the time?”

“All the time. Around the clock, actually. I go out into the field sometimes but I’ve relegated most of the field work efforts to my subordinates. And they’re doing excellently, it’s just—the most frustrating thing is the bureaucracy.”

“Hm. Let me guess. Big shots saying ‘no, that’s too much money,’ or something?”

“No, no, it’s more like.” Blue wrangled her hands in front of her, as if trying to mold into being the complications of her job. “Other third party teams aren’t so accommodating. The old guard, so to speak. They’re resistant to change. They always want to follow tradition, even if it’s stupid.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Vi thought of Vander’s last words. His dying wish. The desire for a peace that Vi had always called false and unreal, even if disobeying those unwritten laws meant retribution and consequence. “Some people really don’t like changing their mind about new things.”

“That’s an understatement.” Blue rolled her eyes. “But there’s ways around it. Pretty Boy and I have some ways to get through the roadblocks, so, we’re able to proceed, just slower than I’d like. Unlike those other fools, I refuse to believe that change isn’t possible. Things can get better for—the environment. It just involves a lot of effort.”

“You still believe things can change in Zaun, then?” Vi asked.

“I have to. No one else will,” Blue said. “No one else would do it right.” She glanced at Vi. “Do you?”

“Do I believe things can change in Zaun?”

“Yes.”

For a long moment, Vi didn’t answer.

“I believe in you,” Vi said, whisper-quiet.

Blue’s stare. It went straight to Vi’s soul, held it, grasped it, took it.

Then Vi turned away, knowing if she stared too long into the blissful abyss of blue she’d never come back.

Leaning forward, Vi grabbed a bottle from a shelf, popping the cork open. The sound seemed to snap the reverie, the tension in the air. Vi didn’t know if she felt relief from that or disappointment.

“It’s just cider,” Vi said, at Blue’s questioning look. “Can’t come to the bar and not have a drink while bitching about shitty coworkers, yeah?”

The smile on Blue’s face. It was unforgettable. “Then let’s drink to shitty coworkers.”

Vi took a swig straight from the bottle, and then turned the bottle over to Blue, who did the same—she hummed at the taste, eyebrows raised as she raised the bottle up a bit to read the label.

“Yeah, from Demacia,” Vi chuckled, reaching out and taking the bottle once Blue had did her examination of the label. “They got some nice orchards over there.”

“It’s an excellent cider, Vi. Thank you.” Blue reached into her pocket, and Vi immediately placed her hand over Blue’s, stopping her.

“S’on the house. Don’t need cogs today. Besides, you’re working hard making…things better, right?”

Blue looked like she wanted to argue, but she conceded, instead shifting her hand so she could interlace her fingers between’s Vi’s. Vi’s heart did a little skip—Blue’s hand was so…gentle, but Vi could feel the slight roughness of her palm, like the woman had definitely faced some kind of intensive physical labor in her life before.

“I’ve always wanted to ask, by the way,” Blue started, and she tilted her head while her thumb brushed the back of Vi’s hand. “Why bartending?”

“Huh? What do you mean, why?” Vi made a face. “Vander gave me the job.”

“But do you actually want it?”

Vi shrugged, looking away. She gave a noncommittal answer, echoing Blue from minutes before. “Someone has to do it. No one else would do it right.”

“I understand the sentiment.” Then, Blue asked, “What would you really want to do, if you weren’t taking care of the Last Drop?

A very loaded question. Without thinking, Vi squeezed Blue’s hand, staring into the long lines of shelves, purposefully not looking for too long at any glass reflection of herself because she knew what she’d see.

Buying herself time, Vi took another swig of the cider, but again, like before, no amount of drink could drown the burning wish she had each and every day, the desire to see change inflicted upon this awful city and the barons who ran it. If Vi weren’t consciously holding back, she’d easily shatter the neck of the bottle in her clenched fist. In this decrepit cellar, Vi tasted not the sweetness of the cider but the ghostly iron of blood on her tongue; on days or nights when she’d pummel and punch out a punishment to those who broke the sacred rules of the bar, she’d long since gotten used to—addicted to—the adrenaline salivating in her mouth, the wickedness within finally let loose.

The pit fights. Vi would need to visit them again soon. She was getting too many thoughts.

“You asked me once,” Vi said, voice low, and when she turned her head to look at Blue again, those blue eyes widened, but Blue didn’t move away—rather, she leaned in, close, an intensity to her gaze that matched Vi’s. “If I wanted things to get better, down here. And why it is I—I fight so hard.”

Blue licked her lips, but said nothing.

“Ask me, what’s the worst parts about this job.”

“Okay. What’s the worst parts of this job?”

Vi tapped the bottle against her leg. “The best part of the job is the customers. The worst part of the job is the customers.” Glancing at Blue, who’d tilted her head in question, Vi continued, “Look, the usual dregs of the city are fine to serve. Sometimes they forget to pay their tab for one drink, or they don’t have enough—fine, whatever. They’re not assholes about it. It’s—it’s the fucking gang members that—” A snarl, a growl threatened to rip through Vi’s mouth and she fought it back, grimacing, body tensing up to hold it back. “Look, the Last Drop being a neutral ground means anybody’s free game to come here. Some of these top ranking generals for the gangs get all high and mighty about me, ordering me around like I’m some dirt under their boot. And—the shit they talk about here, sometimes?”

Blue said nothing, but her gaze was piercing. Vi continued.

“I listen. I hear stuff—just because I’m neutral doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything about what these criminals do,” Vi said. Acid churned in her gut, and bile burned the back of her throat. “Blue, sometimes I want to just…”

Vi had to put the bottle of cider down on the ground, knowing she’d shatter it in her palm, but then she looked down and remembered her hand in Blue’s—

“Shit, sorry, are you al—” Vi looked up, worried, afraid she’d hurt Blue.

Only to find Blue had pressed herself up as close as possible to Vi’s side, her expression something akin to hunger.

“You want to what, Vi?” Blue said, voice low, quiet. Her hand stayed clenched with Vi’s, and the woman hadn’t seemed affected or perturbed at all by the strength of Vi’s grip; rather, she seemed to relish it, from the way her breathing came heavy, a red flush down the column of her throat. “Tell me.”

This was a secret. This was something Vi never told anyone else—not even Jinx, or Ekko, or any of her other friends in the Firelights because she knew if she did they’d see the truth buried within her, the part of her she’d tried to bury with Vander but it clawed its way back to the surface time and time again.

Maybe Vi told Blue all these little secrets about herself because despite Blue’s polished image, the aura of anonymity she attempted to carry with her, there was still the lingering scent of danger in her, how the unknown aspects of her that lurked beneath the surface called to Vi, called to the beast. Danger was a drink, and it could be an addiction, and who knew it’d ever show up to her bar as a woman called Blue?

Vi leaned in, her breath ghosting first across Blue’s cheek, then Vi’s lips were at her ear.

There, in that cellar, in that hole in the ground where the surface didn’t exist for just a while, Vi let the beast take her for just a second. It bared its fangs, its white teeth, and told Blue the undeniable and irrefutable truth about itself. It whispered it, those forbidden and damned words, all hot, heavy, the barest hint of a growl in its tone as the beast showed its reflection and in that reflection was the mirror image of Zaun, of its barons, of its greatest monsters.

When Vi leaned away, she half-expected to see Blue shocked, surprised, maybe even afraid—but no.

The woman was looking at Vi like she wanted to devour her. Her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling with how hard she breathed, and the blue in her eyes. That gaze of hers could shatter entire oceans and unearth trenches none had seen.

“Remember,” Vi said, not taking her eyes away from her companion. “You don’t know my business, and I don’t know yours.”

“Of course.” Blue blinked, and her expression quickly slipped back into that of flawless neutrality. “No soul knows us here, Vi. I promise.”

Exhaling, noting how her chest felt lighter, Vi picked up the bottle of cider from the ground again. After taking a moment to stare at her reflection, Vi took another swig, then offered the bottle to Blue.

“C’mon. Enjoy it. Then I’ll let you go out of my killer basement.”

Blue laughed against the rim of the bottle. “Oh, I see, that’s what you’re really here to do. Murder me down here and hide my body away?”

“To be honest, you’d make a pretty center piece, Blue.”

“As would you, with your head mounted on my wall.”

“Wow.”

“I’m just saying,” Blue said, taking her own sip of the cider, a giggle escaping her mouth. “I’m quite adept at hunting, Vi. Seriously.”

They finished up about half of the bottle of cider before Vi made the decision to return Blue back to the bar, the two of them walking up the cellar staircase with their hands clasped together. Back at the surface, the two returned to reality, to the world that never stopped moving.

“I’ll be a bit busy for a while,” Blue said softly, at the doorway of the cellar. “I might not be here as often.”

“Come whenever you can,” Vi said. “I’ll be here for you.”

Blue smiled, sad, small, secrets between them neither said aloud. Before Blue left, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Vi’s cheek as a sweet farewell.

It took everything Vi had not to chase after her, to follow her out the door. The beast so badly wanted to.

—-

“You alright, Little Man?”

A few more days later, another week seeing and hearing about the Kirammans slow, steady, and forced assimilation of the Lanes underneath their control. More rumors of colossal explosions and instant vaporizations of entire squads leaked into the Last Drop, and in the evenings, Vi saw more than her fair share of lieutenants, captains, generals, troops from all of the chembaron gangs converging in the backrooms to duke it out in whatever discussions there were about the Kirammans new strategy.

More than once, Vi had to again enforce the rules, her fists flying as she beat the shit out of a Renata general who thought he’d get a little physical with a Renni messenger and a Margot captain.

But it was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. Tensions were rising, fast, in Zaun, and the other chembarons were scrambling to combat it—with what little time they had left until Kirammans turned their unidentifiable weapon on them all.

At the end of the week, Vi made a visit to the Firelights base. Sometimes, fresh air did her good, and the tree was the only place in Zaun that managed to scrape out a piece of the sky and sun for itself.

Though the Firelights didn’t have a public presence at the Last Drop, it was clear when Vi stepped foot into the area that the heavy air and somber mood meant the Firelights hadn’t been able to breach the secrets of the Kiramman enterprise either.

Leaning on a railing at the top of the tree, Vi stood next to Ekko, who looked out onto the grounds with a heavily furrowed brow.

“Vi, this is—this is getting crazy.” Ekko clasped his hands together. “The Kirammans—they’re a lot.”

“What’ve you learned so far about the Kirammans?”

“Whatever weapon it is they have—it’s incredibly long range. Because of that we’re having trouble figuring out just where it fires. We don’t even know exactly when. We only know the who—and that’s obvious enough. I get the feeling it needs some time to charge or something, because otherwise the Kirammans would be using it every second. Either that, or the Kirammans just like being careful about when to use it. But we’re getting there. I stuck a guy into Kiramman’s ranks, I’m hoping he’ll be able to get us something solid.”

With a low whistle, Vi said, “That’s dangerous, Ekko. What if the mole gets found out?”

“He knew it going in,” Ekko said grimly. “It’s a risk we’re willing to take because we don’t have many other options. Whatever weapon it is they have, it’s fast, it’s mobile, and it’s impossibly powerful. Jinx and I have been working around the clock to see if we can make something that combats it, but we’re running into walls—the thing can just blast through any kind of material like it’s tissue.”

“C’mon. You guys can surely think of something, right?”

Ekko’s mouth twisted, the reality of the situation playing into his face. “We’re kinda on our last legs, Vi. Jinx is taking a shot at talking to Janna, or something. She’s been in the deeper underground tunnels for the past week.”

Snorting, Vi said, “You think some old goddess is gonna have some words of wisdom about how shit her city has become? Yeah, sure.”

“I said the same thing.” Ekko did a gesture with his hands, shaking his head. “But I dunno. I don’t think Jinx really believes in Janna either but maybe she’s thinking inspiration will strike down there. I dunno.”

“What else have you got on the Kirammans, though, Ekko? Feels like we haven’t learned anything new since the last time I checked in.”

“I have an unconfirmed hypothesis, and I’ve been thinking about it lately.” Ekko leaned away from the railing, and Vi followed him a few steps around the tree, the man gazing out for a moment longer at the children flocking down below, laughing and chasing after a butterfly, none of them aware of the imminent war happening outside their walls. Vi watched them too, expression softening; at least the safe haven here was a true one, and not a false one, like the Last Drop was.

The two paused on the railing again, Vi leaning back against the tree, arms crossed, Ekko facing her, his own back against the railing, hands braced on either side of himself.

He exhaled. “You know how the Kirammans have just been doing everything—different? Remember when they weren’t like this?”

“Yeah,” Vi said. She turned her face up, looking through the leaves of the tree swaying gently in the breeze. “They used to just be a competitor to Renata. Had some hands in the factories, majority of their stakes in business trades and shit. Nothing major, nothing big.”

“Nothing major, nothing big,” Ekko repeated. “Vi—I’m pretty sure it’s obvious to you now, but I think the change in leadership at the Kiramman’s, it happened a few months ago. My man on the inside—he’s talked with some of the Kiramman lackeys, the ones who’ve managed to last this long.”

Something about the way he said those words made Vi briefly narrow her gaze. “What do you mean, last this long?”

Ekko looked away from her, tongue in his cheek. “The change in leadership. Rumor has it that—the new leader of the Kiramman house. She did a coup. Took over violently. Killed anyone in the family who wasn’t on her side. And she did it using her new tech. S’why all the blood over there is sort of new, and if it isn’t new, it was folks who were always on the new girl’s side.”

“She cleaned up shop.” Vi heard the echo in her own voice.

“Yep. And I’m guessing after she took over, she’s just been laying the foundation for all the shit going down now.” Ekko’s hands clenched the railing as he glanced up at Vi. “She’s been planning this for a long time, Vi. It’s the only way any of her plans make sense—they’re all so precise. Calculated. The mines? I think she got the material she needed for her superweapon there. Then, the harbor? She was kneecapping her enemies, stopping them from getting outside help, and she basically tells everyone that anyone not on her side gets the axe. So, nobody new joins up with the other gangs. Then, the commune?” Ekko made a face, an unfamiliar expression of despair set deep in the frown of his mouth, the furrow of his brow. “Any kind of potential new blood that her rivals might want to recruit, she bags them, tosses them some kind of chemical in the food that makes them worship her. She’s got a whole army’s worth of cultists for her, all willing to die for her. She has Zaun now, Vi, all in the palm of her hand. The only thing left for her to do is to crush Renata, Renni, and Margot and she’ll own all of Zaun.”

Vi looked away, saying nothing.

With a humorless laugh, Ekko said, “Honestly, I’m damn impressed. The new Kiramman girl’s got this.”

Kiramman girl.

“So, what’s the plan, while we wait for Jinx to do her thing?” Vi asked.

“I don’t know,” Ekko said, frustration slipping into his voice. “I don’t really know who I want to win. Either way, if the Kirammans win, we still have a baron over our heads. If the other barons somehow manage to take out the Kiramman girl and her superweapon, we still have barons over our heads. Nothing really changes.”

Something stirred in Vi. A thought, a spark. “Hey, what would you do if—if somehow, Zaun was free of chembarons?”

Ekko gave her a skeptical look. “It’s dangerous playing with ‘what ifs,’ Vi.”

“C’mon. Answer the damn question.”

Sticking a tongue in his cheek, Ekko turned his head, looking back down at the children below, playing in the grass.

“Make this place a place worth living for,” he answered. “We gotta clean up the smog, the pollution, the waste from all the factories first. Clean this place up, you know? Nicer places to live, nicer places to work. But when it comes down to it, it’d be nice to walk without having to think about some chembaron lackey breathing down your neck. I dunno, Vi, it’s a lot to ask with a hypothetical. But I do think Zaun needs a refresh, and it can only be done if the chembarons are out of the way. They’re the root cause of all these issues in Zaun. They have to go.”

“Little steps first, huh, Little Man,” Vi chuckled.

“Yeah,” Ekko barked a sarcastic laugh. “Little steps. It’s sure a ‘little’ step to take out all the chembarons in Zaun.”

“Look at the silver lining, Ekko. You can’t say that the Kiramman girl hasn’t been doing a good job cleaning up Zaun.”

Ekko reluctantly shrugged, the man looking like he’d eaten something bitter. “Sure, Vi. She’s tearing up all the other chembarons, but what about what comes after, when she’s on top?”

“Would it be so bad to try…talking to her, working with her, you think?”

“Work with…a chembaron,” Ekko said slowly. “What do you think I’m going to say to that, Vi?”

Vi shrugged. “Hey, I just think we should be open to options that aren’t total annihilation. We go against her, we’re as good as dead. I’m not saying you have to like her or join up with her. I’m just saying she might be open to talking—she’s been doing everything all different, right? Who’s to say she might not be open to just talking with us?”

Ekko bit down on the corner of his lip. “Hm. I’d have to think on it, Vi.”

“We gotta do what we gotta do to survive. Maybe the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“But she might still be an enemy at the end of the day.” Ekko exhaled, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Alright. I didn’t come here to complain to you about our shitty jobs and think about tough shit. I came here to ask if you could dig up any intel at the Last Drop? Listen in on these goons. Anything that might hint to what anyone’s plans are, what they’re going to do.”

“I can try. I’ll see what I can figure out—lately, though, it’s just a lot of lackeys complaining or bitching about the Kirammans,” Vi said.

“Someone’s gotta have a plan,” Ekko replied. “Let me know what it is.”

During the nights, when the bar was in full swing with customers packing into the booths and the counter, and chembaron lieutenants and goons headed into the backrooms, Vi sometimes did her job as a bartender and sometimes Vi went into the cellar and tapped her hand against a few bricks against the far back wall. A portion of the wall would shift backwards, then sideways, the mechanisms groaning and spitting dust as Vi slipped into the tiny alcove built into the bottom of the Last Drop.

There, she took a seat before a massive machination of pipes, tubes, mirrors and such that interlaced and wove into the walls and ceilings of the Last Drop.

At the bar earlier, she’d seen a general with a golden chemtech face mask from Renata’s group stalk inside, their cape billowing behind them as they headed straight to the backrooms, not even bothering with ordering a drink. Soon after came a captain in a full suit of skintight black leather from Margot’s team, and after that, a messenger from Renni clad in a heavy fur cloak. If Vi’s hunches were right, the three of them must be coming to meet each other—to talk about the Kirammans.

With a shift of a few levers, the twisting and turning of a few gears and dials, Vi leaned in to peer into the lens of a long telescopic tube, using a free hand to angle another tube with its end resembling a horn close to her ear.

There. The view was blurry, but Vi could make out the three chembaron lackeys in a backroom together; Margot and Renata’s people sat on the couch, while Renni’s was standing, pacing back and forth.

“…can’t stay here,” said Renni’s messenger, the man wringing his hands, shoulders hunched. “I sure as hell ain’t stayin’.”

“Coward,” spat Renata’s man, his voice distorted by his metallic mask over his mouth. “We’re not leaving. This is our goddamn turf. We’re not scared of her, like you are.”

Margot’s woman said nothing; she only watched.

“Your fucking funeral!” snarled Renni’s messenger. “Haven’t you fucking seen what Kiramman’s done with all the outposts? She’s going completely scorched earth on this fucking city and you’ll all die when she comes for you. She’s taking no prisoners, Adel! She finds you with that brand on you and she’ll blast you dead on the spot.”

“Loux, maybe if you stopped being such a chickenshit, we could fucking band together and stop her,” snarled Adel—Renata’s man. “She’s just one person—”

“With a crazy weapon that can blast anyone to dust in Zaun, at any time,” Loux, Renni’s messenger, shot back. “And she isn’t one person, you dumbass. She’s got a whole fucking army of those freak cultists on top of her existing troops. And you haven’t—you haven’t seen what those cultists can do.” Loux shuddered, the man wrapping his cloak more tightly around himself. “Never seen anything like it. Those things aren’t fucking human.”

“They can be killed, idiot,” Adel drawled. “They’re tough, but they’re not unkillable. Kiramman can be stopped.”

“That’s what you think. Rumor has it some of the cultists aren’t even cultists. They’re—they’re corpses, brought back from the dead by Kiramman’s people. It’s why they look all fucked up and take so long to take down,” Loux said. “Maris even swore she saw her brother’s corpse guarding the mines.”

“If I had a hex for every time you said the dumbest shit,” Adel said. “I’d be richer than Renata right now.”

“Believe me or not, I seriously think we won’t stand a damn chance. Kiramman’s not playing by the normal rules anymore and I’m pretty sure even Renni and the others can see that. Look, I’m not even—I’m not even completely here on Renni’s behalf. I’m here to tell you I’m personally jumping ship.” Loux turned to Adel, expression that of fear mixed with a regretful truth.

Taken aback, Adel said, “You’re fucking serious? You spineless little fuck, I should kill you right now for Renni’s sake—”

“Renni,” Loux cut in. “Is willing to take you up on your offer of teaming up. All of us, gunning it for the Kiramman estate. Next week. I think it’s a fucking suicide mission.”

Adel put a hand to his chin, staring hard at Loux. “You’re serious? Renni’s willing to throw in with Renata, full stop?”

“Yeah. Told me to tell you to pass that along,” Loux said, the man said, hopping on the balls of his feet, increasingly erratic. “I know we’ve—we’ve had our disagreements before, Adel, Millie, but I’m goddamn serious. You can’t fight her. You can’t. Your best bet to get out of here alive is to fucking get out of Zaun before Kiramman finds you and kills you. Good luck—if you guys do the raid. I’ll be long gone by then.”

Before Adel or Millie could say anything more, Loux immediately whipped around and tore out of the door, his cloak disappearing around the corner.

Vi, in her seat, pressed a hand to her mouth.

Adel turned to Millie, still sitting silently next to him. “So, what’d Margot say? She willing to team up too?”

“She is,” Millie answered, but she leaned an arm back on the couch, tapping her sharpened nails against the back of it. “But I think Loux, as stupid as he is, is right. We’ll die in the raid if we go in. I have a proposal. A way for us, sweetheart, to make it out alive, but still do the raid. I think Renata will agree, too.”

Adel raised a brow. “What’s your plan, doll?”

Millie leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Adel’s ear. They were too quiet for Vi to pick up their clandestine discussion, so Vi pulled away from the machine, thinking, her hand tapping her leg.

If Loux was to be trusted—considering the man seemed to have a reputation for insane tall tales, and Vi could verify this from previous times she’d eavesdropped on his conversations—then the Kirammans had all the numbers to their advantage. To learn now that the rest of the chembarons were chancing an incredibly unlikely and hard to imagine teamup felt so impossible—but it made sense. The armies of three chembarons could surely take down just one, even if the one had a superweapon on her side. The only way out now from Kiramman’s weapon of death meant total cooperation, even if neither side liked or trusted each other.

But Loux turning and leaving. There was uncertainty in the ranks. Fear and terror were tearing the gangs apart from the inside out, weakening them. Kiramman’s air of mystery and the increasing number of unknowns from her made fighting her seem like fighting an intangible spirit, full of demonic energy. The woman had crafted her reputation excellently.

Ekko was right. Kiramman had to have calculated all this. It was the only way it made sense. It was so thorough.

“Things are changing,” Vi whispered in the silence.

Vi shifted around the mechanisms back to reset, but once again, she caught her reflection in the metallic tubes arrayed around her; a laugh escaped her throat, almost akin to a cackle. Here, alone, with forbidden knowledge and secrets, Vi clamped her hand around a tube—clawlike—and laughed.

Common sense was what slapped her other hand over her mouth, shreds of her self-preservation attempting to stuff back her sanity down her throat, to keep it for as long as she could so she could make it through this war between barons. Stiffly standing up, Vi kept one hand clamped over her mouth, the other fumbling for the lever to re-open the secret wall door, and then she staggered out, trying to fight back and push down the beast inside.

It was roaring with joy, howling with ecstasy. Retribution. Vengeance. Finally, a reckoning for the despicable of this city.

“I’m not any better,” Vi gasped, bending over, body shaking, trembling, one hand clawing down the side of a shelf, splinters like shrapnel underneath her nails, the other clutching the fabric of her shirt.

But then she made another mistake—she looked into another glass bottle, and in the flickering of the light bulb of the cellar, Vi saw flashes of the beast. This time, it forced her to keep looking, and this time, Vi lost the urge to look away.

—-

The next night, Vi took off from the Last Drop and let Thieram handle the evening rush.

She made her way through the streets, bearing her leather jacket with her hellhound icons, and came to the gigantic double doors of a jagged and crooked building—except, this time, instead of normally hanging Renata’s banners on the outside walls, Vi noted instead Kiramman banners and sigils in their place. Even the bouncer at the door wasn’t the usual Renata lackey she was used to seeing—instead, it was a prim and proper uniformed person who politely stepped aside and held the door open for Vi as she came close.

Another change in ownership.

Through the front doors, Vi entered the general audience area, rows and rows of tiered seats that looked down upon the infamous fighting pit in the center. Despite the new banners outside, it seemed like the Kirammans hadn’t done a lot of renovating or changes to the interior design—but Vi did notice at the topmost rim of the fighting ring, an enclosed box with darkly tinted windows. Most likely a VIP box, meant for whoever special wanted to watch the fights down below, but in private.

Diverting course to a side door, Vi took the steps down towards the locker rooms—if they could even be called that, just tiny closets with a banged up janky locker that Vi stuffed her leather jacket and her bag into, withdrawing her bandages she used to wrap her arms and fists.

As Vi sat down on a bench that had long since passed its rotting date, she heard the door open—only to see another Kiramman lackey, appropriately uniformed in their standard gold and black attire, Kiramman sigil sewn prominently onto their breast. She held in one hand a metal suitcase.

The woman stood straight backed and tall, looking down at Vi with a neutral expression. “Are you Vi?”

“No, I just have this tattoo on my face for no reason,” Vi said dryly. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

The woman didn’t seem perturbed at all by Vi’s attitude. “I am Elora. For the purposes of this interaction, you can consider me a business liaison for the Kiramman family.” She took a look at the empty spot on the bench next to Vi. “May I?”

“Sure.” Vi scooted over, watching the woman’s every movement; she didn’t seem hostile, and neither did she have any weapons on her person.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s been a change in management with this arena,” Elora said, setting the suitcase down, before folding her hands neatly in her lap as she regarded Vi. “This includes changes into the rules of the fights, and of how payouts are handled here. I’m here to inform you that the previous rules set by the previous management strictly mandated no deaths in the pits—the Lady Kiramman is removing this rule. To be clear, murder is allowed now.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Okay. And?”

“The Lady Kiramman is offering you—you, specifically, I mean—an additional bonus cash payout if you kill all of your opponents tonight,” Elora said. As if to back up her words, Elora pulled the metal suitcase into her lap, and opened it.

Vi’s eyes widened.

That was a lot of golden hexes. A lot.

For a long moment, Vi held Elora’s gaze; much to her credit, Elora didn’t blink, nor did she seem unfazed by Vi’s brutal stare.

“This much fucking money, for killing some guys?” Vi asked, eyes narrowed. “This seems too good to be true. This is a lot of cash. You can’t seriously believe I’m gonna put myself into debt to Kiramman just to get the chance to kill some guys I don’t even know. I’m half-inclined to tell you go to fuck yourself.”

“Let me be frank, Miss Vi,” said Elora, and she shut the suitcase, putting it to the side before reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She screwed her eyes shut briefly, then opened them, the woman regaining her composure. With a pointed look, she continued, “The Lady desires your opponents to die at the end of the day. She’s going to kill them regardless of what it is you do. She’s just willing to offer you a bonus if you make them die slowly and painfully. There is no ulterior motive to this. You won’t owe her anything.”

“So she won’t come for me if I don’t do what she says? ‘Cause I’m not some dog for her to order around,” Vi said, still suspicious—but the money was tantalizingly there, shining and shimmering. That much money…so much could be done with it.

“We have it in writing, if that’s what you prefer.” The woman swiftly withdrew a folded paper from her pocket, as if she’d once again expected Vi’s rebuttal. “There will be no retribution from the Lady or any of her associates and related parties if you are to leave your opponents beaten, but alive.”

“What does she get out of this, exactly?” Vi asked, grabbing the paper and skimming it; the words were true, as verbose as they were. Kiramman meant what she said—Vi would come to no harm for rejecting her wish to kill these people. As far as she remembered, the Kirammans did do things like this—contract law was one of the few rules they still retained from their past traditions.

“A show,” was what Elora answered. She held a pen out to Vi. “And, of course, the death of her enemies. That much, she wanted to me to be transparent to you about. This does benefit her. She just hopes you’ll also enjoy the experience. I believe you’re meant to be familiar with your opponents.”

Vi considered Elora’s words for a second, once again narrowing her eyes at Elora, who simply met her suspicion with an impassive expression.

“Fine. I’ll see how I feel when I enter the ring.” With a wicked scrawl, Vi signed off on the document, tossing it folded back to Elora, who easily caught it in her hand before standing up.

“Do what you wish. Thank you for your time, Miss Vi, and the Lady wishes you luck in your fights ahead.” Elora bent down, picked up the suitcase, and then briskly stood up and left.

Vi finished prepping for the fights, double checking the bandages around her arms, before tossing off her tank top and tossing that in the locker too, leaving her just with her bare chest bindings and black pants and boots. She shouldered her way out the door, heading to the side hallway that led to the pits—already she could hear from a distance the roars and cheers of the crowd, the rowdy and raucous all raging for the thrill of the fights and the ecstatic rush of winning bets.

Standing beside the door that would let out into the pits, Vi put her hand on the door handle, closing her eyes. She breathed in, then breathed out—and now, the prickle at the back of her neck transformed into a full blown shudder of her entire body; a twist of her mouth, the feral grin coming to the surface, the chants and screams of the audience outside spurring on the adrenaline in her heart as Vi finally, finally, let herself loose.

This. This was the only place in Zaun Vi could let the beast in her go. Where it could finally roam free, be free, unrestrained and untethered from the rules she made for herself in the Last Drop, the rules she told herself Vander would’ve wanted her to follow when she knew deep in her heart they wouldn’t change a damn thing.

And Kiramman had just removed the one chain holding her back.

Shoulders jerking back, Vi ducked her head, barking out a laugh from her mouth as her spit hit the door; with eyes wide open, Vi came undone.

She tore the door open, stalking out into the blinding white lights of the arena, and roared.

The crowd roared with her. Fists pumped into the air, and bets were flung into the light.

And then she saw Kiramman’s gift to her.

Her opponent—the man stumbling out of the opposite door, his mouth clamped shut by a muzzle locked tightly closed. The whites of his eyes showed his crazed and manic look—panic, terror, fear, all mixed together into an ugly expression that let Vi easily recognize the identity of the man within.

Loux.

He’d been stripped of his cloak, wearing nothing but a ragged shirt and shorts, the man barefoot as he stumbled backwards away from Vi, twisting, pounding his hands against the door, trying to escape. Fresh bruises that resembled handprints coated the man’s upper arms, like stronger men than him had clamped down on him, tying him down, stopping him from escaping to other venues.

Then, the announcer’s voice—a brand new one, one that was melodic, singsong, almost.

“Welcome, one and all, to the day one grand re-opening of the Pits, courtesy of the Kirammans! Please, feel free to grab free drinks on the house from the bar, but try not to drink too much because you’ll want to see what the greatest fighter in Zaun will bring to the arena tonight!”

The cheers were deafening. Vi could barely hear the chants of her own name as she slowly came forward, grin on her face as she approached Loux, who desperately attempted to put distance between himself and Vi within the arena. His muffled screams came out from underneath his muzzle, but none could understand his words—if he made any.

“A word from our sponsor tonight—Lady Kiramman would like you all to know that traitors and turncoats aren’t permitted as per executive order number zero-one-zero-four. It’s recommended to remember the Kiramman tenets of loyalty, order, and justice. Now—back to our show! The Hellhound tonight faces a worm who was willing to throw both his friends and his enemies to the dogs!”

Boos echoed loudly in the space; Vi saw a few rotten vegetables thrown at Loux, who flinched underneath the hits as he cowered against the curved wall of the pit.

“Sit back, relax, and enjoy watching the wrath of Zaun!”

Vi heard it. The ding of the bell. The beast charged forward, fists blazing, eager to tear into such delicious prey.

—-

Three corpses littered the arena floor that night. Blood stained the arena, and the red was coated deeply up Vi’s arms as she stood in the center, heaving, panting, looking down at her open palms and admiring in the blinding lights the color that so covered her skin.

Each and every opponent Vi had seen had been lackeys from other gangs who’d sought a desperate bid to escape annihilation by turning tail—or turning coat.

But Vi had recognized them all for something more incriminating, something more unforgivable.

Loux. He’d commanded Renni’s operations in the chemtech factories, laughing gleefully in the backrooms of the Last Drop when he’d gloated over how many workers—some children—he’d beaten into submission and how Renni had praised him for his efforts.

Vendrick. A lieutenant for Renata, who’d pushed the Shimmer trade deep into the most vulnerable communities of Zaun, preying on the weak, the desperate. His work had been diabolical, cruel, tricking and coaxing children into taking the addicting substance, hooking them in at a young age, guaranteeing himself a lifelong business.

Licia. A manager for one of Margot’s brothels who’d laughed with mocking joy as she’d boasted about taking majority profits off the long exploited sex workers, churning them underneath the heel of her boot with false promises of freedom from their exorbitant debts.

Oh. It’d felt so good. Vi’s fists, pummeling straight into their flesh, pounding, punching, feeling the bone crunching underneath her knuckles, the skin and meat flying off their wrecked bodies as Vi kept going, grinning all the while.

The beast had never felt more joy. More freedom. Finally, finally, after all this time, Vi had gotten one of her long held wishes to come true—vengeance.

Breathing hard, sweat dripping down her neck, her back, her arms, mixing with the blood of those she’d always hated, Vi chanced a glance up at the black box at the edge of the arena.

“Thanks,” Vi mouthed. Despite the red on her body and the white shining above her, Vi was thinking entirely of a different color as she looked at that black box.

—-

Vi didn’t see Blue for another week after that. All Vi could do was wait to hear of the results of the supposed raid that the chembarons sought to do on the Kiramman household—it was a risky gambit, an insane one, to storm the base of operations of the supposed elusive demon of Zaun, and tension hung thick in the air of the undercity, thick enough that the folks that still had some semblance of common sense hid themselves inside, locking their doors and closing the shades to their windows. Ekko had relayed the news to the Firelights to shore up inside the base too and now everyone in Zaun was just waiting for the armies to clash.

Vi was standing in the Last Drop on one afternoon—empty of course, since everyone was waiting for the bomb to drop—idly polishing and wiping down the bar countertop when Jinx threw the door open, the girl panting, sweating from how fast she’d run here.

Pausing in wiping away a permanent stain that’d been there longer than she’d been alive, Vi watched Jinx stagger inside the empty bar, her sister wheezing and panting as she collapsed onto a chair at the bar.

“You okay, sis? Take a breather,” Vi said, withdrawing a cup and pouring her sister her usual cup of orange soda, dropping her usual metal straw into it.

Jinx fumbled the drink for a second, before guzzling half of it down.

“What happened?” Vi asked, leaning forward on the counter with her arms crossed underneath her. “What’d you hear?”

“Vi,” Jinx wheezed. Her sister’s eyes were wide, her expression comically a mix of disbelief and shock. “Vi—the Kirammans—”

Vi’s heart whipped straight into overdrive. “Wh—”

“She blew up her own estate.”

Vi’s brain now whipped into another wholly different direction. “Wh—what?”

“It was a trap, Vi,” Jinx said, propping her elbows on the table, her hands fisting into her hair as she stared at the countertop. “The Kirammans were never in the estate. Neither was their weapon. The gangs all ran in—Margot, Renni. They led the charge. They laid a siege against the walls, broke them down, then busted into the gigantic manor. There wasn’t—there was some resistance, some of the fucked up monster cultists were there fighting back, but Renni and Margot busted in. Renata laid down fire support from a distance.”

Jinx took another gulp of her drink. “And then—Vi, once the majority of the forces were inside the manor—Vi. It blew up. From above. The Kirammans—they have some kind of fucking flying airship. I saw it! That’s where the weapon is. It fired—it fired down onto the entire estate, and blew everyone and everything in it into smithereens.”

“Kiramman…blew up her own home?” Vi said slowly.

“Yeah. You know what you said, about those traitors that you took out?” Jinx winced, glancing at her sister. “I figure—they told Kiramman about the raid, but she probably knew it was coming from a mile away anyway. She must’ve cleared out most of her people but stuffed some of the cultists she doesn’t care about into the manor to pretend they were still there. Then she just…waited. Waited for Renni and Margot to run in and—snap. BOOM.” Jinx mimed an explosion with her hands, a kind of crazed look in her gaze as she stared at something that wasn’t here in the Last Drop.

“What happened to Renata?” Vi asked.

“Well, after the big-big explosion nuked the estate to hell and back, shit started raining down from above—imagine, like, rifles, guns, but they fire miniature versions of whatever the big-momma cannon is. Not as big of an area of effect, but enough to snipe the rest of the people lagging behind. Renata fled with whatever forces weren’t getting shot up from above, we don’t know where.” Jinx then jerked her head up, grinning broadly. “Oh, wait, that reminds me—I didn’t come here just to tell you the news, Vi. I managed—I sort of managed to test my anti-Kiramman shit while she was pelting hell down from above.”

“Wh—wait, you figured something out?” Vi asked, straightening up, mouth dropping open. “What is it?”

Jinx held up her arm; around her forearm was a series of rocks inscribed with runes, all tied together with a ribbon. “I was reading some old murals down in old Zaun, way underground. Back in the day, remember the Void Wars, in Shurima? They sorta had something like whatever Kiramman’s got going on. Big, gigantic, mega weapons—made from magic. Vi, that’s what the Kirammans have. It’s a big, giant, mega magic cannon. But you can maybe stop it with these runes! They suck up the magic.”

“Magic cannon,” Vi said, critically looking at the runes on her sister’s arm. “And…magic runes.”

“It’s ancient magic that works, Vi,” Jinx said, disgruntled at Vi’s lack of belief. “I—I sort of ran into the fray, towards the end. I tested it with one of the smaller shots fired from the Kiramman airship. Vi, these runes—it stopped the magic from blowing my arm off. I’m serious, I think this shit works.”

“Jinx, you can’t just run into a battlefield—!” Vi instinctively reached a hand out, clutching her sister’s shoulder and moving her this way and that, inspecting her for any kind of grievous injury—but Jinx was wholly and completely fine, batting away Vi’s hand with another frustrated look.

“I’m fine, Vi. Seriously,” Jinx huffed. She stuffed a hand into her pocket, withdrawing another set of ribbon-tied runes. “Here, take this. Keep it on ya, sis. It’ll make me feel better knowing you have these and you decide to walk around Zaun with your fat head that Kiramman could probably snipe from two galaxies away.”

“Maybe she’ll snipe your giant ass given you’re such a big asshole,” Vi said, but she took the ribbon of runes anyway, turning them over in the light of the lanterns; Jinx had clearly made these in a hurry, given the roughshod nature of the carved runes, but Vi trusted Jinx’s instincts on this regardless. “Thanks, Jinx. I’ll keep ‘em on me.”

“No problemo. I’m gonna head back to base and start making more for everyone else. I only made these two in time for the big raid.” Slurping down the rest of her soda, Jinx flicked the empty cup back to Vi. “I’m gonna touch base with Ekko and see what he wants to do—we don’t know yet if the runes are enough for the Big One, but it might give us a chance against Kiramman’s smaller forces.”

With a dramatic salute, Jinx shot out of the bar, her long twin braids following behind her as the door shut, and Vi stood in the empty bar by herself.

Of course Jinx of all people would figure out the grand secret to the Kiramman’s schemes. Her sister had to be one of the most brilliant minds in Zaun—and only she would be crazy enough to think a that a war from thousands of years ago could help turn the tides of a war in modern day.

Vi pocketed the runes. She’d keep them to herself, for now.

—-

Vi figured the rest of the day would be a quiet one; yet, a part of her hoped to see a familiar color.

And, lo and behold, in the late afternoon, Vi looked up to see a familiar face and a radiant blue come walking through the door.

This time around, though, Blue wore a long black coat that hung like a cape off her shoulders, the woman leisurely stripping off the leather gloves on her fingers as she came to her usual spot at the counter, the sound of her pristine boots echoing in the empty space. As she sat down, she shrugged off her coat, neatly folding it onto the counter with a precision that seemed almost…catlike, lithe.

Danger hung off of her still.

But like usual, Vi came to her, to the woman who’d always been the source of her intrigue, the target of her curiosity.

“Hi,” Vi said.

“Hi,” Blue answered in turn, smiling. There was a brightness to her gaze, unmistakably the result of success, of joy. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I.” Vi leaned against the counter, staring into endless depths of blue and wishing she could stay there forever. “So, what are we celebrating today?”

“What makes you think I’m here to celebrate?”

“You were practically skipping into here, Blue.”

“I was not.”

“Uh huh,” Vi snickered. “C’mon, babe. You’re glowing like a goddamn sun. Something good happened for you and I think we should celebrate it. You cleaned up town, didn’t you?”

Blue pursed her lips, knowing the secret between them both. “Two birds with one stone.”

“I was right to believe in you.”

“That lovely smile of yours is half the reason I do the things I do.”

“You mean, the majority reason.”

Blue laughed. “Alright, you. Stop teasing. I assume you have a drink in mind?”

“You could say that.” Vi did a gesture around the empty place. “How ‘bout we go somewhere a little…more private, though?”

Blue glanced around, a smile at the corner of her eyes. “Oh? You have somewhere in mind, I assume.”

“My office.”

Vi went around the counter and offered her hand to Blue, who chuckled at the gesture, but nonetheless set her hand in Vi’s. With Blue’s hand in her own, Vi guided Blue up the staircase to the second floor of the Last Drop, where she then opened the door to her office.

Vi had changed it only a little bit since Vander’s time; the gaudy, but old couch still sat against the left wall, the massive, gigantic block of a desk directly in front of the round stained glass window at the end of the room, and Vander’s old leather executive chair cast a dark silhouette behind the desk, black against the ominous green of Zaun outside. The one addition Vi had added to the room was the minibar counter to the right of the room and additional rows of shelves onto the wall to house Vi’s personal collection of drinks, spirits, alcohols that were meant only for her use and her use alone. That single wall in the Last Drop probably cost more than the worth of the entire building; that was how carefully curated Vi kept her personal stock.

“You know, Blue,” Vi started, shifting behind the minibar, Blue across from her, those blue eyes gazing at the rows and rows of bottles behind Vi. “I’ve been thinking. About the drink I’d name after you. You deserve better than standard fare. You deserve only the best of the best—and that’s exactly what I got here.”

“Flatterer,” Blue remarked, but there was amusement in her voice. “Hit me with your best shot, Vi. Let me judge for myself whether this drink lives up to my reputation.”

Pausing, Vi asked, “Is alcoholic fine, or non-alcoholic still your preference?”

“Let’s celebrate. I can indulge. Alcoholic, please.”

“You got it.”

This had to be the most expensive cocktail Vi had ever touched with her bare hands—she began pulling down the bottles from the wall, sliding each of the ingredients onto the minimal area space of the minibar countertop. Blue watched all the while as Vi reached down onto the lower areas of the minibar, withdrawing a shaker and a martini glass to begin the entire ensemble.

The first—a pristine and flawless sapphire gin, from the Shuriman city of Nashramae, with only a handful of bottles ever made by the higher echelons of the city’s reclusive spirit makers. Vi had sold an arm and a leg to Sarah Fortune to acquire the rare thing, but it’d been worth the cost. She added it as the base in the shaker, careful to watch that no drop fell afar as she pulled the bottle away.

The second—the cleanest and sharpest vodka, made by the most skilled tribesman of the Avarosa clan of the Freljord. It’d been packaged in a glass bottle that could’ve been sharpened and cut out of the ice of the tip of the Ridgeback mountains. With delicate and careful precision, Vi added just the right amount of it with the gin.

The third—the dry vermouth, the one component that came with all standard martinis but in Vi’s case Vi ensured she used the bottle that had personally come from Sarah’s last supply drop. The pirate dabbled in side ventures—diversifying, as always—and Sarah’s version of a dry vermouth had a sweet, but bold and strong floral aroma that Vi knew would heighten the taste of the martini to just that right amount of sweet. Not too much, not too little. Just right.

And, of course, shaken. Not stirred. Vi poured the contents into the martini glass, and then added one last final ingredient.

It was an incredibly unique and rare brand of blue sugar that Sarah had procured from who knows where; only Vi knew that the woman had gone through unimaginable battle to acquire it, and if Vi had to guess, just from the ancient text of the antique box the sugar came in, she’d swear it’d come from the time the Shadow Isles had been Blessed. With a focused eye, Vi lightly tapped the sugar against the rim of the martini glass, ensuring the light caught it just right, casting a rim of lovely, perfect blue.

“Here you go,” Vi said softly, using two fingers to push the martini glass an inch forward towards its namesake. “I call it, the Sapphire Siren. A take on the classic martini, but you could say it breaks away from tradition. This drink is for you, and only you. No one else.”

Blue had always been different. Yet, today, something about her seemed heightened to an unknown degree; she took the martini glass, eyes on Vi’s before she stepped away and strode casually to the desk, running one finger down its length, her blue eyes combing through the mess of stacks of papers and lingering on Vi’s leather jacket crumpled on a corner the desk.

Turning, Blue leaned on the front of the desk, one hand propped on the edge, the other delicately and slowly swirling the martini glass.

“You do know I mean to share this with you, right?” Blue said, head tilted, blue eyes cutting through the dimness of the room with a severity that would’ve made any grown man kneel. Silhouetted by the stained glass window behind her, Blue’s figure took the air out of the room, like the Last Drop itself was holding its breath in both fear and awe.

For Vi, though, it only drew her in. Her feet carried her towards Blue, all the while never looking away.

“Want me to celebrate with you?” Vi said lowly; Blue shifted backwards, sitting on the edge of the desk as Vi slotted herself between the woman’s legs, her hands hovering at Blue’s hips but never quite touching.

“What do you think?” Blue murmured. She held the martini glass between them both; if Vi pushed herself any closer, her chest would meet the rim of the glass, but she held herself tantalizingly close, just a hairsbreadth away, waiting for Blue to take the first sip.

“After you, miss,” Vi breathed. “You always come first.”

“I do, don’t I?”

And then Blue’s gaze briefly tore away from Vi’s to glance down at the martini, before the woman raised the glass to her lips; Vi couldn’t help a rough exhale as she saw Blue take a sip, the woman closing her eyes as her mouth turned into a content and satisfied smile.

“Good?” Vi asked.

“Perfect.” Blue opened her eyes, and once more, Vi hurled straight into the ocean, swimming deeper.

“Let me try, then.”

Reaching a hand up to nudge the glass to her own mouth, Vi was surprised when Blue slightly leaned away, shaking her head, her smile now amused.

“You can try it,” Blue said. “The way I think it’s best to try it.”

She deliberately brought the martini glass to her lips, never looking away, before taking a generous sip of it—but Vi noted how the woman definitely did not swallow at all as she placed the martini glass back down on the desk, one hand now reaching up to the nape of Vi’s neck, the other tugging on Vi’s shirt, bringing them flush together.

Vi followed her lead.

Her mouth met Blue’s, and there, she tasted not just the sweet burn of the alcohol against her lips and her tongue, but also that sweet, sweet thrill at finally, finally, drowning in the woman that had unchained her from shackles. Here, in the delicious taste of Blue’s lips, in the breathless gasps of danger and death against her mouth, Vi found freedom.

Fervent, heated, hungry. Only Blue could meet her at the same tempo, the woman’s hands scrabbling at Vi’s shirt, jerking, pulling, the two briefly parting so Vi could rip her shirt off before diving back into Blue’s embrace, the woman’s nails now scratching up and down Vi’s back as Vi took and stole all the kisses she could from the lips of war.

Vi’s hands found the hem of Blue’s sweater, and they broke apart for just another second so Vi could pull the sweater off—it came off fluidly and quickly, and just as Vi pressed her lips at the bare, slender curve of Blue’s neck and shoulder, did she look up and see the reflection of Blue’s back in the stained glass window.

The back tattoo. It covered the entire expanse of Blue’s skin, from hip to shoulder.

With one hand, Vi pressed her palm at the base of Blue’s spine, and felt Blue shiver under her touch, the woman’s breath catching in her throat. Then, Vi began to trail her fingers up the straight lines, the geometric patterns, regal and black and bold; the entire tattoo could have only been done by an expert hand in how straight and flawless the lines were, and in the execution of how all lines converged towards the middle of Blue’s back.

For there, in the middle, where all the lines converged to spill into a perfect circle, in the center was a very, very familiar family sigil.

Vi had seen it thousands of times. She’d seen countless uniforms walk into the Last Drop with that very symbol, emblazoned on gold on deep black thread, and now Vi saw it here—the only gold painted on Blue’s back, the only gold amidst the sea of jet black.

For just a split second, Vi took it all in, took in that reflection of Blue’s back in the glass and how her own eyes were blazing against the green backdrop of a changed Zaun just outside—but she kept her eyes open as she sunk her teeth into that juncture of Blue’s throat and shoulder, as her hands pressed hard against Blue’s back, pulling and pushing her closer into her arms.

Blue said nothing to Vi’s discovery, to Vi’s palms pressing against the center of her back, the sigil burning and blazing underneath Vi’s hands. Instead, Blue dug her fingers into Vi’s hair, briefly jerking her head back—Vi nearly snarled at the movement, but then Blue’s mouth was on her own again, a moan escaping the both of them as they tasted each other, all alcohol and all fire.

It wasn’t long until they’d shed the rest of their clothes, until Vi finally got to give thanks to the goddess of war and to offer gratitude for the unfettered freedom Vi found in the depths of hell.

—-

“Quite the dog, aren’t you?” Blue chuckled, the two of them sitting on the couch, still bare and naked. Blue leisurely lie across the length of the couch, Vi at the end, Blue’s legs across her lap. Like a good bartender, though, Vi had gotten Blue another drink—albeit it was simpler, just a rum and coke, and the woman swirled the glass in her hand, admiring Vi from the end of the couch.

“Hellhound,” Vi corrected. “Thought you knew that.”

“Mm. I do,” Blue hummed. “But you’re still a puppy to me, Vi.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “That’s a nice way to tell me I’m a good lay.”

“You’re an excellent lay,” Blue remarked, and she held the glass out, offering it to Vi. “Better than most. But, you know, practice makes perfect.”

Now that got Vi to laugh as she took the glass, taking a sip. “Really? That’s your best attempt to get me back between your legs again?”

“You tell me. Do you want to?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid if I do, you’re never leaving this place, Blue.”

“Ah, I see. Instead of trapping me in your basement, you’ll trap me in your office. Kind of you to murder me in a more respectable location.”

“You know me. Best bartender and server in all of Zaun.”

They both burst out laughing; oh, how Vi loved those blue eyes that gazed at her with such affection, but then a shadow flickered over those eyes. Blue shifted, sitting back against the couch again, and Vi scooted down so the two were side-by-side, Blue resting her head against Vi’s shoulder.

Vi offered the glass again, and Blue took it, taking another sip.

“The work isn’t over yet,” Blue said, quietly. “I actually do have to go soon.”

“One more.”

“One more,” Blue repeated.

Then Vi remembered something, and she reached down onto the ground, where her pants had been discarded. Rummaging around in the pocket, Vi found it—the runes along the line of ribbon that Jinx had given her, and Vi settled back onto the couch to see Blue looking at the runes with an expression of confusion and curiosity.

“I forgot, I wanted to show you these,” Vi said. “They—supposedly work against. Um. You.”

Now that got Blue’s attention, and her gaze snapped immediately up to Vi’s, the woman’s face abruptly serious. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It was tested.”

Blue seemed to know better than to ask how it was tested, but she held her hand out for the runes, and Vi willingly pressed them into her hand. For a long moment, Blue turned the runes over in her hands, inspecting them from every angle, one finger tracing the etched runes carved into the stones.

“Where did you get these?” Blue asked.

“My sister made them.”

Glancing at her, Blue said slowly, “Your…sister, figured…all of this out? How?”

“She works for…a third party. Not for any baron,” Vi said, trying to find the right words, to preserve some semblance of the false rules that neither of them really followed anymore. “They also want to make Zaun better, I swear.”

Brow furrowed, Blue stared back at the runes in her hands again.

“Don’t hurt them,” Vi said softly; her tone was quiet, but just underneath, there was the hidden growl, the instinctive desire in Vi to defend, to protect.

Blue immediately looked up at Vi, her expression—surprisingly—turning more human. For once, she looked like someone who didn’t belong in the depths of Zaun’s streets; she looked like someone who belonged somewhere better, brighter, warmer.

“I won’t,” Blue said, gentle. “For you, I won’t.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Vi reached her hand out, grasping the back of Blue’s neck, pulling her in again for another fierce and deep kiss. Blue answered in kind, and even in hell, there was love to be found.

“I’m serious when I say they wanna make Zaun better too,” Vi said as they broke apart, faces flushed between them both. “Talk to them. They might help.”

Blue pursed her lips, concern flickering across her face, but then replaced by an accepting resolve. “Okay. I—know one of their men. I’ll find a way to talk to them.”

“Okay.” Vi knew better than to ask how Blue knew Ekko’s mole, but she wouldn’t make a fuss about it. They’d broken enough rules already in the Last Drop. “Thanks, Blue. You can keep those, by the way. Give ‘em to Pretty Boy to study, yeah?”

“Hah.” Blue snorted, but she made to stand, reaching down to grab her discarded clothes—Vi had made the concerted effort not to rip or tear anything considering Blue still needed to walk out of here with some semblance of dignity. “He’ll be so excited to have this, actually. Thank you, Vi. But when all’s said and done, I promise, I’ll be back here to properly celebrate. All night long, I might add.”

Tongue in cheek, Vi said cheekily, “All night? You didn’t last—”

Blue whipped around and indignantly hit her with her sweater, and Vi burst out laughing.

—-

Vi had expected to not see Blue for at least another week, figuring that the woman needed to use her resources and her people to hunt down the last and final chembaron. Renata had definitely gone underground somewhere within the labyrinthine tunnels that crisscrossed across the deep belly of Zaun, but most of the city seemed to have conceded that the Kirammans had won the war and Renata was just the last leg of an old regime.

As Vi walked the streets of Zaun, she saw more folk walking out and about, their hushed whispers and quiet, exhilarated laughs all echoing the same name—Kiramman. She’d become a legend amongst the commonfolk, amongst the people of the undercity who had long believed that there’d be no salvation from the oppressive and brutal fists of the legion of barons from before. Now, the air tasted different, and as Vi breathed in, she tasted something that felt dangerously like hope.

Even if hope came masquerading as a power of absolute destruction.

But to the hopeless and the desperate, it was a salvation all the same. So long as you weren’t the enemy of a god, what fear did you need to have? So long as you praised her, loved her, admired her, then surely the omnipotent blue eyes of Zaun wouldn’t turn on you, right?

Towards the end of the week, Vi was in the process of closing up the bar late at night after a raucous evening serving ecstatic miners and factory workers who’d reveled and relished in their supposed freedom now that Renni and Margot were gone. The beer flowed, the cogs tossed, and Vi had to call the night a pretty successful one. As Vi wiped down all the countertops, thinking already of the kind of rave she’d throw in Last Drop once Renata was gone for good, she heard a loud and staccato, furious knocking on the back door of the Last Drop.

Making a face, Vi left the counter, tossing her dirty rag over her shoulder, moving to the backrooms and then down the hallway to the back door at the far end.

When she opened the door, her heart nearly dropped out of her chest and onto the ground.

It was Jinx, beaten and battered, but not as much as the bloodied and bleeding Blue she supported against her.

“Vi,” Jinx panted. Her eyes were crazed, panicked. “Vi, you need to let us in now!”

Vi didn’t hesitate. She immediately stepped aside, reaching a hand out to help Jinx carry Blue across the threshold; she briefly took a look at the alleyway behind the Last Drop, but saw no sign of pursuers—only the long, concerning line of blood red trailing the ground and to the door. With a gesture to Jinx, Vi quickly picked up Blue in her arms, the woman crying out with pain at the movement, but nonetheless bearing the pain regardless.

“To the office,” Vi barked, and Jinx furiously nodded in reply.

Blue was conscious, but she grimaced, gasping in pain as Vi did her best to haul her down the hallway with as minimal movement as possible. Then it was up the stairs, and Vi laid Blue down on the couch, and Vi finally got to see the tumultuous number of injuries up and down Blue’s body—deep gouges from what looked like shrapnel, or some other horrifically sharp but fast moving material that had easily cut across her skin, one piece of jagged metal embedded dangerously in her abdomen.

“Jinx, explain,” Vi said quickly, running to her desk and jerking open the drawer with medical supplies; she tossed a few clean rags and bandages across the room to Jinx, who whipped around to the minibar to pull out a bottle of alcohol to quickly douse the rags.

“We cut a deal,” Jinx said brusquely, focusing intently on dabbing Blue’s wounds with the rags—Blue hissed with the burn of the disinfectant but she didn’t stray from Jinx’s hands. “We know the underground better than her. Helped track down Renata, and Renata pulled a Kiramman—rigged the entire set of tunnels to trap us all down there. Boom.”

“Fuck. Fuck,” Vi snarled, rushing to join Jinx. “Blue, we gotta take your clothes—”

“Do it,” Blue gasped.

With her strong hands, Vi quickly removed the bloodstained shirt and pants, and Jinx and her got a full look at the extent of the injuries—the metal embedded in her abdomen was the worst of it, but the rest of Blue’s wounds weren’t a pretty sight either.

“She—expected me,” Blue panted, crying out again as Jinx pat down clean an bloodied cut on her arm. “She knew I’d hunt her, Vi. That I’d get greedy. I should’ve known.”

“Not your fault, and just—just stay focused on staying alive.” Vi bandaged up the injuries that Jinx cleaned up, the sisters working in tandem to keep the woman stable. For what it was worth, Blue at least remained conscious, but her hands trembled and shook as she gripped the couch, one hand jerking on instinct to the metal stuck in her abdomen.

“We don’t have time for this,” Blue breathed, and then she used one hand to grasp tightly onto Vi’s wrist. “Vi, Renata’s coming—my reinforcements won’t be here in time, and the Firelights are scattered in the tunnels. Only Jinx and I really made it out. Ekko warned us—he bought us the seconds we need to escape. Renata surely knows by now I’ve fled here—the trail of blood makes it fairly obvious.”

“I—I couldn’t fucking bring her to the base,” Jinx said quickly. “I—she told me she knew you, Vi.” Her sister glanced at Vi, but the pressing matter of a grievously wounded woman before them cut any of Jinx’s unspoken questions short. “Brought her here because why the fuck not. I know I’m breaking the rules—”

“Fuck the rules,” Vi said. “We gotta make a plan, right now, before Renata comes down and starts burning the Last Drop to the ground. Jinx, do you—”

“No,” Jinx said, and she made a comical gesture at all of herself, wounded, beaten, her clothes sootstained and ripped. “Vi, I don’t have anything on me. I ditched everything to carry the Queen over here.”

“Can you make anything?”

“Uh, a really fucking giant molotov?” Jinx wrangled her hands, looking manic. “Vi, I can make things if I have ti—”

Then all three of them heard it. The screeching sound of cars coming to a stop in front of the Last Drop, then the all too familiar clanking and chemical breathing of Renata’s forces.

An amplified, mechanical shout. “We know you’re in there, Kiramman! You can’t use the Last Drop as a front! Come out now or we’re tearing this place apart!”

The three of them all looked at each other. Blue ran a trembling hand through her tangled and tousled hair, clearly thinking—and then she pointed at her pants discarded and torn on the ground.

“I—I have something, a last resort,” Blue breathed, and Jinx and Vi shot her questioning looks, but nonetheless Vi dug around in the pockets of Blue’s pants and instead found a vial with a shimmering, vibrant white liquid inside—it glowed, mysterious and unknown.

“What is it?” Vi asked.

“Holy shit,” Jinx whispered. “That’s—that’s pure Shimmer, isn’t it?”

Blue glanced at Jinx, then back at Vi. “Yes, it’s an enhanced version of it. It should—it’s reserved only for a few of my trusted confidantes. There shouldn’t—be any side effects. It’s that pure. It’s meant to evolve you into something better, stronger. For a brief time.”

Jinx and Vi looked at each other.

“Wait, Vi—”

“Stay here, take care of her,” Vi said, and then she tore out of the office and down the stairs, vial clutched tightly in her hand.

She hit the first floor landing just as the first fist smashed through the front door.

She was halfway to the door when she chugged the vial down whole.

She collided into the ground, her entire body burning, entire waves of agony crashing through her, all at the same time as an incredible high of ecstasy ripped through her brain, and a hysterical laugh tore through her throat.

Oh. Finally. True freedom. She was unchained. She was unshackled. She could run.

The door began to splinter, more fists reaching to each break in.

Even if Vi had wanted to hold the beast back, she couldn’t. The Shimmer brought it out in full, Vi’s clothes tearing, ripping, as she grew larger, bones and muscle expanding at a blindingly agonizing pace—but there was something about the insane feeling of it all, the pinnacle of bliss of enlightenment at such a corrupted kind of high. Maybe true Shimmer brought out the best and the worst in her at the same time—maybe that was what heaven and hell felt like, combined together, merged together, made into a single glass vial and now here was Vi bearing the weight of it all.

And yet, at the same time, it felt weightless. It felt like Vi finally reaching the apex of her mind, her body. Finally, they were one.

Vi’s clawed hands scraped against the floor of the bar, the beast lunging, roaring, teeth and fangs bared with a frightening ferocity.

Vi hit the entrance just as the first of Renata’s men tore it open, and in that second, in the reflection of the whites of their eyes, in the darkened pupils of their horrified expressions, there lunged a hellhound made manifest.

—-

When all was said and done, Vi stood outside the Last Drop, covered in blood.

Dozens of bodies lie arrayed around her.

At Vi’s feet lie a a wicked woman, her black and silver hair coated and marred with the blood of her patriots, and of herself. Vicious gashes tore across her face, the woman’s metallic facemask lying in pieces a few feet away. Her once pristine and white suit no longer bore any proof it’d ever been white; the stain of blood rapidly and quickly trailed up the fabric, eager to consume, eager to feed.

Panting, chest heaving, Vi slowly turned around to the doorway of the Last Drop.

There stood Blue, leaning heavily against the doorframe, Jinx at her side.

Jinx stared at the carnage with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.

Just a beat later, Vi heard the telltale sound of running footsteps from down the plaza—and she spotted the familiar sigils of the Kiramman family on the suits’ breasts, the suits running into the bloody scene with mixed expressions of shock and businesslike satisfaction.

A Vastayan man on the forefront of the forces broke away, running to Blue, shouting ‘My Lady!’—he helped support her, Blue leaning heavily against him as she gestured for the man to help her walk forward, towards Vi.

As Blue and Vi looked at each other, Blue nodded at her, and Vi nodded as well, taking a few steps back towards the Last Drop, letting Blue have the stage. For a brief minute, Blue addressed her forces—and Vi saw a few stragglers from the Firelights behind them, to which Vi and Jinx did a gesture to acknowledge them—and then it was time for Blue to be taken away, to her people who might better heal her of the serious wounds.

Just before she got into a car, Blue cast one final look at Vi—who only nodded in response. Blue’s expression softened for just the briefest second, before she too nodded, and then the door closed, and Blue’s forces were gone.

“So,” Jinx said, in the silence, staring at the numerous dead bodies littering the ground in front of the Last Drop. “We’re…free?”

“I guess so, sis. I guess so.”

“Are you…okay? You were kinda…um. You looked really fucked up,” Jinx said, looking Vi up and down with a somewhat repulsed expression.

“I’m fine,” Vi said, the adrenaline rush over, the insane high of total and absolute freedom finally waning down.

“How did it like, feel?”

“Fucking amazing,” Vi said, breathlessly laughing. “It was fucking awesome.”

“Huh.” Jinx tilted her head, hands on her hips, thinking. “Think I could ask her to give me a little sip of it? You know, for—science.”

Vi snorted. “Maybe, sure. Anyway, let’s get inside. I need a drink.”

“Tell me about it,” Jinx sighed, turning around and carefully stepping over the few bodies that had been the unfortunate first few through the Last Drop’s front door. “I could use a drink right now too.”

“Hey, wait, Jinx,” Vi said, following her sister, wincing—she was so sore, now. “What kind of deal did you guys cut? With the Kirammans?”

Jinx turned, exhaling. “She’s kinda psycho, Vi. But—I promise you. It’s a good deal, for Zaun. If she holds up her word. C’mon, take a seat, sis. Lemme make you a drink for once.”

—-

She came a few days later.

The final chembaron of Zaun—and as far as Vi knew, she’d be the last.

Once again, like long ago, the bar was empty in the afternoon, the normal patrons out in the streets partying, throwing celebrations in the roads, in the alleyways, in their homes because that was what a homecoming from a war was usually like. Paradoxical, that the people wouldn’t be in the best bar in town to celebrate, but that could be because Vi also did put up a ‘Reserved’ sign outside because she’d made a promise.

Vi heard the telltale signs of a car outside as she was wiping down the counter—she’d cleaned the place up of blood the day after she’d done her job—and moved to the newly-replaced front door.

When she opened it, she saw a pristine black car outside. A man left the front driver’s seat, moving to open the rear door, and he delicately opened it and bowed low to the woman who leisurely exited it.

It was just who Vi expected, and it was that familiar, tantalizing, addicting shade of blue. This time, no doubt to celebrate, she’d change her outfit to match the final results of a generations-long battle; she wore a white suit, but black leather gloves still covered her hands, her sharply clean boots black, and her suit’s tailored jacket had at her shoulders gold epaulettes, casting her entire ensemble in a regal and royal finish. At her back though was a brutal and metallic weapon—an incredible rifle, nonstandard issue, but even Vi could sense the strength and power of it from where she stood. Peeking up over her shoulder, Vi could spot the Kiramman sigil branded into the rifle’s stock.

“Hi,” Vi said.

“Hi,” said the chembaron with a smile. “I’m here to pay my debt to you. As I said before, I don’t like owing debts to other people.”

Vi chuckled, stepping aside a bit, holding out her arm. “Then come inside and feel free to pay your tab, miss.”

The woman moved to take off the enhanced rifle at her back, but Vi shook her head. “You can bring it in.”

The woman slowly took her hand away from her rifle, but then nodded at Vi. “Of course.”

They moved inside together, just the two of them.

Vi followed close behind her, watching the woman take her usual seat at the end of the bar. Vi, as usual, went around the counter, taking her usual place across from the woman who’d long since occupied her thoughts.

With practiced movements, Vi prepped and slid towards the woman her signature drink; the golden light of the lanterns complimented the blue sugar rim of the martini glass, and the woman chuckled at the choice of drink.

“Cute,” she said. “I appreciate the drink, but, I have one request for you. It’s something I’ve really wanted for a long time.”

Like before, she slid a folded paper across the counter towards Vi, and Vi raised a brow at it, but nonetheless took the paper and took a look at what was written inside.

In delicate, beautiful handwriting was written—

You.

A full blown smile came across Vi’s face.

“Here I thought you wanted the Last Drop,” Vi said, chuckling. “The last place in Zaun that isn’t totally and completely yours yet.”

“Didn’t you say that you were a majority of it?” the woman asked, a smirk on her lips. “It makes perfect sense that I’d want you instead, then.”

“Well. Alright,” Vi said, and the beast in her purred at the attention, the want, the desire she could see in war’s blue eyes. “How do you want me? Shaken, not stirred?”

The woman huffed in amusement, but then licked her lips, teeth then digging into her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but…”

“C’mon. You can tell me.”

“I want you leashed and collared, by my side,” the woman said, voice low. “I want you with me.”

Vi couldn’t hold back her wide grin, the feral one, the beast pushing her forward up against the counter, leaning her head towards the woman who’d long since earned her undying love and loyalty.

“Tell me, first,” Vi said. “What’s the name of the woman who owns me?”

“My name is Caitlyn,” Caitlyn said, and her smile was a reflection of Vi’s. “Caitlyn Kiramman.”