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Children of Zaun - Chapter 39

Smokescreen

Pairing: Silco x Fem!OC, Silco x Katya

Rating: Explicit

General Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, police brutality, dark themes, smut

Author’s Note: Hello, my loves! I’m back after an unintended hiatus. Firstly, thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this update. There’s any one reason other than: Life. Life was lifing, and motivation was lacking. But! I’m feeling renewed and like I am ready to dig in into these next chapters.

Extra special shout outs to @dreamyonahill, @niennaera, @altered-delta, and the couple anons for their continued support and investment in this story ❤️ I (with consent) squeeze you all!!

Content Warning: Canon typical violence, police brutality, killing people, dead bodies, gore

Word Count: 10k

Previous Chapter

Just like LeDaird, Grayson did not make her choice lightly.

The morning of Bone’s memorial, as the lower ranking Enforcers filled their posts, she kept a sharp eye out for any sign of the Children. Of Vander. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for her, the barkeep was easy to pick out in a crowd. He towered above most, and split the sea of bodies with his broad, muscular frame.

She spied him while checking in with the team lead of a squad perched on top of a municipal building. With a more curt than expected farewell, Grayson whisked back down through the floors of the building. Every time she came by a window, she glanced out to see if she could still spy Vander as she went. A few times she spotted him. It seemed he was heading toward the large square that held the Council’s enclosure. Her stomach churned. She took note of the black bandana tied around his neck, resting loosely at the hollow of his throat.Then she noticed similar clothes tied to people peppered throughout the crowd.

Shit shit shit.

She’d been seeing those rags all morning as people filtered in from the Undercity. Not on all, but on most. A scratch of intuition at the back of her mind told her that they weren’t just for mourning.

Grayson slipped out of the building’s door, and strode through the crowd toward the Council’s plaza. She kept her eyes above people’s heads as much as she could, skillfully weaving through the mass. Shame bubbled in her gut when she’d walk passed an Undercity family and the parents would gather their children closer to them.

. . . those sworn to serve and protect should not invoke such a response . . .

Bone’s low, raspy timbre rumbled in her ears. Vibrated behind her ribs.

She would honor the promise she’d made to Bone, in life and posthumously. She would not let the Undercity suffer. Those children and families would walk away from whatever was going to happen that day. She would find a way to keep her entire city safe.

Vander’s head appeared again as she neared the wide open square. The Council was already seated in their enclosure; the procession would begin at any time. She needed to get a birds-eye-view.

Grayson scoped the area. Her eyes landed on a pair of rookie Enforcers stationed outside the clocktower. That would do.

As she approached, the officers snapped to attention. When she ordered them to change to a different location, they did not argue; but they did share a questioning glance as they walked away.

There were officers on the parapets of the clocktower, but none stationed within. The sound of the crowd dulled to a murmur as Grayson entered. The interior of the tower was not near as grand as the exterior would lead one to believe. It was dim and dusty. The turret clock ground in a deep, consistent tempo that echoed against the stone walls. The wooden beams and scaffolding creaked in response.

Grayson made for the stairs that spiraled up the tower walls in wide loops. She noted the footprints left in the dust by her fellow Enforcers. Again, the taut, tenuous string in her heart that tied Piltover and Undercity together tightened. The knee-jerk thought of having to choose needled her.

There had to be a way to pull the two ends of that string together. Tie them up in a neat bow.

Grayson paused at one of the loop windows that punctuated the journey up to the tower’s top. She could see a few feet above the nearest section of crowd; but not the section of open road Bone’s coffin would travel down. She climbed higher.

By the time the next window offered a sight of the courtyard, she was several feet above the crowd. She found Vander in the crowd again. He stood with two others. A young woman with chocolate brown hair who looked very familiar -

From The Last Drop. The first time Grayson had been there. She and LeDaird had gone to question patrons about the botched freight ship robbery. Grayson’s attention had been snagged by the woman’s alarmed, quietly quaking form at the bar. She’d urinated herself in fear . . .

She appeared less scared now. Her head held high, eyebrows furrowed seriously.

Next to her, the young man who had hissed to leave the young woman alone stood. His sharp face equally grave.

That was Silco. Grayson was sure of it. The other leader of the Children.

Based on what Bone had told her about his impromptu meeting with them had gone, it only bolstered her and LeDaird’s suspicions that the Children were going to disrupt Bone’s funeral for their Cause.

Surely they wouldn’t do something so foolhardy as to incite violence.

The clock’s bell tolled the hour, and the inside of the tower shook. Grayson slid her hands beneath the neck guard of her helmet, covering her ears. Trapped by stone and wood, the bell’s final tintinnabulation took several seconds to fully fade.

Grayson removed her hands from her ears, and looked out the window again. The crowd’s chatter had died down, respectfully waiting for the carriage to pass by. Her eyes flicked between Vander and the squads of Enforcers she could see from her vantage point, gut coiling.

They had explicit instructions to not fire their weapons unless LeDaird gave the order.

The melancholy sound of a lone trumpet filtered in through the window, a haunting, tumbling dirge carried on a sickly warm breeze. The musician appeared, marching down the middle of the street a few paces ahead of two black horses pulling the caisson. Sorrow pressed on Grayson’s heart, crushed her gut. Heavy as iron.

As the trumpeter and carriage began stepping into the large, vacant square, a shuffle by Vander snatched her eyes away. The trio were moving tightly together. Grayson’s heart thundered. Anxiety foamed in her veins. Her hand automatically went to hover over the pistol at her hip. Then she stopped herself.

She had to do things differently. For Bone. For the Undercity. For Piltover.

For herself.

Suddenly, a flag sprouted up in the crowd. A large, proud cloth of red, blue, black, and white. A small gust of wind caught it, and unfurled it in all its glory. The smaller man with Vander marched toward the procession, holding the flag aloft. It streamed behind him, a comet’s tail in the dark space of mourning black.

It was Silco, Grayson realized. He’d pulled his black bandana over his face - and then several more joined him. Black-masked people flowed into the street, converging on the carriage.

Grayson’s eyes flitted around in panic, watching the Enforcers on the ground and above, praying that none of them would take it upon themselves and shoot before an order was given. She prayed the order never came.

She looked on as Silco climbed atop the carriage, both arms held up, flag waving in the breeze. He spoke clearly and fiercely to the Council, who all sat gobsmacked in their box. He demanded the Undercity’s - Zaun’s - freedom. The large group surrounding the carriage cheered and chanted, throwing their fists into the air in solidarity. There were no threats - verbal or physical. Just a mass of righteously angry people demanding their autonomy.

From her vantage point, Grayson watched as the citizens still on the walkways jostled in tempered panic, unsure of what to do.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a thick wall of brass and blue march down the street toward the protest. Her heart stopped beating. Her stomach splattered to her boots.

No.

LeDaird had made his decision: to strong arm the Children into submission. Just like a parent with an unruly child. Although Grayson knew, the discipline brought down would not shy away from bodily harm. Deadly force if necessary.

She needed to think, come up with a plan. Unless there was some kind of diversion, LeDaird would give the command to fire; especially when so many Children were neatly packed in front of him. She needed to confuse the Enforcers. Do something that would make the Sheriff think twice before letting an order boom from his chest.

Then her mind seized an idea. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about this situation was ideal.

The back of her duty belt was laden with small smoke bombs - a common piece of weaponry handed out for events like this. They were used to subdue a dangerous crowd by blinding and confusing them. The explosion that released the smoke was small, so if timed and aimed right neither the Children nor the incoming Enforcers would be hit by any shrapnel.

LeDaird wouldn’t dare give an order to open fire if there was a chance a Piltovan citizen was lost in the smoke.

Reaching behind her back, Grayson pulled one of the bombs from her belt.

The squad of Enforcers, their riot shields up, came to a halt several feet from the circle of Children. LeDaird emerged from his wall of officers, and stepped toward the group he’d had sights on for so long.

Grayson lifted the smoke bomb, eying her mark: a point half way between LeDaird and the Children. She’d been first in her class for near everything - including marksmanship. She pulled a steadying breath in through her nose.

She had promised Bone. Promised herself.

LeDaird demanded their surrender. As expected, the Children gave no quarter. Spinning on his heel, LeDaird strode back and melded into his battalion.

Grayson pulled the bomb’s pin and chucked it out of the window.

It sailed in a beautiful arc over the crowd. The clang of it hitting the street felt louder than the bells had just minutes ago. The cylinder rolled to its mark. And exploded.

Kat blinked. Her eyes burned and there was a shrill, piercing ringing in her ears. Her head and right shoulder ached. There was a heavy, breathing weight on top of her.

Silco.

Heart beating so fast she feared she may be sick, Kat pushed him off. They were on the ground. The world was full of smoke. Thicker and blacker than what typically drifted through the Zaun. Kat could barely see a foot in front of her face, could barely make out the silhouettes of legs and boots hurriedly shambling around her.

Large hands gripped her shoulders and she jumped, head whipping around madly. She saw Silco through the haze, saw how the whites of his eyes were turning pink and watery. How the bandana over his mouth shifted as he said something.

Slowly, the sounds of the world bled in through the ringing. Shouts. Screams.

Silco shook her again. “Kat! Kat! Are you okay?”

Kat’s head bobbled loosely in an affirmative.

What had happened?

They were no longer on the carriage. They’d been thrown from it when the bomb went off. The horses had spooked, rearing up and toppling it over. Kat could just make out the broken body of it over Silco’s shoulder. Shattered glass glittered dully in the smoke. Splintered wood littered the ground like beige confetti. In their fear, the horses had managed to break the caisson’s tongue and galloped off, still yoked together, the leather ribbons of their reins trailing behind them.

Bone’s coffin lay in a pool of shattered glass, knocked on its side, lid hanging from its hinges. An arm stuck out from the crack.

“Sil!”

Vander’s massive silhouette came into sharp relief as he emerged from the smoke. He hauled his Brother to his feet. Silco did the same for Kat, grabbing the flag as he did.

“We need to get outta here!” Vander shouted. “It’s only a matter o -“

Sharp gunshots rang through the air. The three collectively ducked.

Who had fired first? The Children had strict orders to not initiate violence. But that smoke bomb -

Later. They’d have to figure it out later. For now, they just needed to get back to Zaun.

Sevika and Nasha stumbled through the smoke, holding onto each other. Nasha’s bright eyes were wide with fear. Kat immediately honed in on her left hand. She kept it against her chest, blood oozing out from between her fingers. The horses yanking the reins must have sliced her palm wide open.

Did Annie have a similar injury? Where was Annie? Where were any of the others?

“We gotta get back! They’re already starting to pick us off!” Sevika yelled. Her mask and the smoke muffled her voice.

“Pick us off?” Vander repeated. “What do - “

“It doesn’t matter!” Silco yelled, taking Kat’s hand and charging forward.

The Children didn’t need to be told to scatter. It was a skill learned early in Zaun. The easiest way to evade Enforcers was to run in smaller groups or individually. Otherwise the whole party would just get kettled.

They ran through the smoke, dodging Enforcers and weaving around other Children as they zig-zagged in every direction.

Finally, the smog thinned. A brief sense of relief washed over the group to see they were already heading in the direction of the Bridge. The wall of Enforcers that had been blocking the main path dispersed with the explosion of the smoke bomb, clearing the way.

An Enforcer leapt from the smoke and snatched at the flagpole in Silco’s hand. Before Kat could even scream, Vander grabbed the Enforcer's arm, wrapping it around his own, and yanked up. Even through the melee, Kat heard the shoulder pop. The Enforcer’s scream was short-lived as Vander’s free fist collided with the side of their helmet. They dropped like a sack of flour once he let go.

Another round of sharp gunshots. More wails, more screams.

“There are still some up top!” Sevika pointed up as they continued to run.

Kat dared a glance up. She bet that’s where most of the shooting was coming from. Enforcers with a birds-eye-view were less likely to hit Piltovans. Her revolver was a useless weight in her pocket. She couldn’t run and fire at the same time. Couldn’t risk wasting the bullets to shots she couldn’t guarantee.

Aiming for Zaun was still the best bet.

Sevika lurched forward, and took up a riot shield left on the ground. She braced it protectively against the group’s right flank as bullets suddenly sprayed at them. Kat felt each metallic ping vibrate through her bones. She crushed Silco’s hand beneath her own.

He jockeyed left and commanded, “This way!”

They ran down a narrow alley, serpentining around crates and dumpsters. The sound of gunshots lessened. Another twist, another turn. When an Enforcer tried to intercept them, Vander’s fists shot forward, felling officers as if they were nothing more than knockdown dolls at a fair. His efforts allowed them to keep their pace.

As they went, Kat spied other Children sprinting down nearby streets. It helped to settle the primal fear within her. To see her people. They were escaping. Heading back home. Bringing the fight onto their turf.

They only stopped when there was no cover between them and the Bridge - just the wide open stone plaza they’d crossed earlier in the day. Their breath left them in heavy pants as they hid in the shadows of the alley, assessing their situation.

To the right, a small wave of Children poured onto the plaza, sprinting for the Bridge. They spread out, weaving as they went. Enforcers appeared behind them, yelling orders to stop before they opened fire.

A shriek wanted to rip from Kat’s mouth, but the sound got jammed in her throat. Fear shot up her spine. It felt like her knees wanted to give out.

Only one bullet found its mark.

It pierced the back of one of the Children’s legs. He fell with a scream, tumbling onto the ground. He ripped the cap off his head, his fiery-orange hair shining in the sunlight.

Beckett.

Another scream. This one higher. Annie came sprinting back across the Bridge to get to him, a bloody hand reaching out. An Enforcer fired again. She dodged the bullet, and flung herself to Beckett’s side, attempting to haul him up.

Vander reached over and tore the shield from Sevika’s hands, charging into the open. He rushed the Enforcer that had fired, and bashed them aside with the shield. More Children streamed from Piltovan streets, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Running in wild, confusing patterns.

“Let’s go!” Silco yelled.

He squeezed Kat’s hand once, and then let it go, charging into the growing wave of Zaunites. She, Sevika, and Nasha followed behind for a few strides before they also split off. Kat veered to the right. And then left. And then right.

Through the swarm, she spied Annie and Beckett hobbling along, spatters of blood trailing behind them. Before she could begin winding in their direction, Benzo rushed upon them. He’d also gathered a riot shield on his way through Piltover. He shoved it into Annie’s hands, and hauled Beckett over his thick shoulders before running again. Annie followed, holding the shield up behind them as they went.

A screamed warning tore through the crowd. “They’re gonna draw the bridge!”

Kat’s gut plummeted. Keeping her pace, she spun her head towards the security hut. An Enforcer had just ripped the door open, stumbling toward the Bridge’s control panel.

Kat turned right sharply, urging her already burning legs to go faster. Through the glass, she watched the Enforcer press buttons before reaching for the command lever. Beneath her boots, Kat could feel the deep vibrations of the Bridge’s drawing mechanism grinding into effect. Without thinking too hard about it, Kat skidded to a halt, pulled the gun from her pocket, and fired.

The hut’s window shattered. A million little glass shards rained through the air like diamonds. The Enforcer jumped, their hand releasing the lever. The ground stilled, and Kat rushed for the hut once more. The Enforcer’s hand went back to the lever, their other for the pistol at their side. They fired as Kat closed in on the hut. The shot hit the doorframe with a piercing metallic ping! Kat nonetheless ducked, a wince cracking across her face. She lifted her own weapon, and fired. The bullet planted itself firmly in the Enforcer's gut. They buckled over, before slumping to the floor. Kat ran into the hut and grabbed their pistol, a strange coldness slipping through her veins.

“Katya!”

Vander was in the doorway, his broad face was dark with angry shadows, teeth white and bared. He looked nothing like the cheerful barkeep she’d met all those months ago. She’d never once found his size intimidating, but now, with rage in his eyes and freshly bloodied knuckles, her brainstem shuddered with primal fear.

“Which lever?” He asked. His voice was a raw growl.

Kat pointed to the command lever. Vander reached over, and with a mighty tug ripped it from the control panel.

“Let’s go.”

Kat nodded in agreement following him back into the mad flood of Zaunites running for the Undercity.

Silco did not know if the Enforcers would follow them into Zaun. Regardless, as he crossed back onto their side of the Bridge, flag whipping behind him, he yelled for the children watching from shadows of buildings and up on roofs to begin sounding the alarm.

They scattered like a mischief of mice, nimbly clambering over buildings, through alleys, and down stairs into the heart of the Undercity. The air became full of sharp, piercing whistles. The sound bounced off metal and rock, vibrated glass, and echoed down the narrow, windy streets of Zaun.

A warning that the Enforcers were coming.

Some secured their homes and hid in their closets. Others took to the streets, fists full of metal. Tolder and his small band of cardshark buddies kettled the few Enforcers patrolling the Lanes into dead end alleys. They dispatched them of their weapons, tied them up, and locked them in the trailer of a delivery truck near Clapper Textile Mill.

Main paths were cut off with cobbled together barricades. Trash bins, chairs, tables, crates, and other refuse all piled on top of one another to stymie the invasion that may be coming. If the Enforcers came, they’d be forced into the narrower streets. Avenues they’d be less familiar with, passages they’d have to split up in order to navigate. So they would be easier to pick off.

Silco dove into the maw of his city. Behind him the flag of his nation snapped with his speed. The minute he’d crossed the Bridge, he’d tugged his mask down and breathed in the air. It had never smelled nor tasted as sweet. A near-manic grin stretched his usually tamed mouth.

This was it.

This was the start.

Around him, Zaunites ran and climbed and dove. Some towards him, some streaming passed as they made for their streets. To defend them. Claim them. Own them.

Silco hurtled toward the main artery of the Entresol. A plexus from which smaller capillaries spread. To the markets. To the Red Light District. To the Bridge Waltz. To Row Station - blocks and blocks of tenement housing. To the Sump. To The Last Drop.

People yelled and cheered as they saw Zaun’s flag whip through the zig-zagging streets, up and down the city levels. Silco’s heart beat like a war drum.

He made a point to pause outside the building he and his mother lived in. His eyes scanned the upper windows. Time was of the essence, and he couldn’t allot any of it to dipping inside, even if it was to bring ease of mind to his mother.

His heart leapt into his throat when he finally saw her, staring down at the mayhem below. She was pale and eyes red-rimmed. But they always were these days.

Silco thrust the flag into the air, along with his other arm. Her head jerked in the direction of the movement. She was far up, but he saw her mouth drop open. One of her hands pressed against the glass. A vicious grin cut his mouth, a glint of teeth and promise of retribution. He gave her a firm nod and continued toward the Entresol’s center.

The barricade was still in the process of being built once Silco arrived at the main square. People cried out and swarmed Silco as he ran up to the wall of trash bins, delivery trucks, tables, chairs, and other random pieces of refuse.

“Are they coming?”

“What happened Topside?”

“Where are the rest?”

“They are making their way down,” Silco answered.

He wove through a gap in the make-shift wall before some Children rolled a large trash bin in front of it. Heart pounding, blood pumping, he climbed up the barricade to the top platform. The structure was nearly fifteen-feet tall. From over the crest of it, Silco watched as people continued to gather materials to fortify their massive block. His eyes scoured the streams of Children running for the square. He did not have a headcount for those who opted to go Topside for Bone’s memorial, but the number of people wearing black bandanas running towards the large blockade felt promising.

Benzo and Annie peeled out of a narrow street, Beckett slung over one of Benzo’s shoulders. Beneath Silco’s feet, the trash bin rolled again and the trio wedged their way onto safe ground.

Immediately, others came to help lower Beckett onto the ground. His trouser leg was bloody, and his skin ashen. But his blue eyes were clear, and he was talking to those around him. Annie’s cheeks were splotchy and tear-streaked, but Silco had never seen such venom on her cherubic face.

A tourniquet was tied around Beckett’s upper thigh before he was lifted again by some of his fellow fishermen, and hustled to the Drop - whose basement was to become the Children’s infirmary. Annie gave Benzo a quick hug before jogging after them.

A sudden, excited wave of chatter swept through those manning the barricade, and Silco spun around to see Vander and Kat sprinting for safety. His heart stuttered, realizing the anxiety his adrenaline had kept at bay until that moment. He would’ve rather charged together, but that would’ve made them easier targets. It had been better to split up. To run back to Zaun in powerful streams rather than in one great wave. To be apart momentarily so they could reunite and stand together.

Silco jammed the flag’s pole through a wooden table at the barricade’s summit, and swung down to greet Kat and Vander as they made it to the other side of the wall. Kat gasped as he grabbed her, pulling her into a searing kiss. She locked up in surprise before melting into it. Her hands slid up to hold the sides of his head, her lips matching the ferocity of his. Around them some of the Children laughed and whooped, whistled and playfully jeered.

“Aw’right! Aw’right!” bellowed Benzo, walking over. He loosely batted his hand in Silco and Katya’s direction. “We’ll have time fer that later.”

They parted with a joyful pop. Silco held Kat a moment more, looking into her blazing eyes, a relieved smile on his face. His gaze shifted to Vander, who looked less thrilled than Kat; a distinct stoniness to his face. A fierce readiness for what was heading their way.

Silco unwound his arms from Kat and stepped over to him. He clapped a hand on Vander’s shoulder, eyes sparkling.

“This is it, Brother. We are ready.”

Sevika and Nasha followed shortly after Kat and Vander made it to the Children’s side of the Entresol’s square. The crush of Children slowed after a while, but Enforcers were not on their tail.

Even still, tension eddied on the safe side of the Children’s wall; waiting for the first hint of Enforcers invading Zaun. Runners scurried up and down between the levels of the city, delivering messages and news from barricade to barricade.

“How’s Nasha doing? Becks n’ Annie?” Sevika asked Kat as she climbed to the blockade’s top.

She’d come from the Drop, blood caked in her nail beds despite having vigorously washed them before returning to the frontline.

“All fine. Beckett’s gunshot wound went straight through -“

Benzo grumbled, “Lucky bastard.”

“ - and hit no major arteries. Annie and Nasha each needed some stitching on their palms, but they will be fine as well. Nasha says she plans to hang back at the Drop, and help with the wounded.”

Sevika nodded, relief glossing over her eyes in a bright sheen.

“What even happened up there?” Benzo asked, tone hushed. “That smoke bomb wasn’ one of ours, was it?”

Silco growled. “We didn’t create anything like that. If it was one of the Brothers or Sisters - which I doubt - they did it on their own time.”

The group shared an uneasy look.

“An Enforcer then?” Sevika hedged.

“Or a Piltie vigilante,” Vander offered.

Kat shook her head. “It was clear we were not leading with violence. Why put their own people in danger? It is one of the reasons why we picked a public event to make a stand.”

“They’re desperate,” Silco murmured. There was a satisfied edge to his voice, one that had Vander shifting uncomfortably.

“They got summa us.” His voice was low, angry. “Arrested n’ - “

Vander broke off, eyes going dark. Gloom rippled through the group. The hardness that had been carved onto Silco’s face buffed out, and he, again, put a hand on Vander’s shoulder.

“We will find out who and hold a vigil. After this is done.”

“We are lucky there were not more casualties,” Kat said.

Sevika nodded. Vander threw a glare at her that was too quick for any of them to catch.

Benzo looked over his Brother carefully, the corners of his mouth dipping downward in an expression that he hoped conveyed empathy.

After a beat, he asked, “Whattabout thems that got arrested? Ya don’ think they’ll squeal, do ya?”

Silco was quick to answer. “No. They’re loyal to the Cause. They won’t compromise anything.”

Before anything else could be said, a sharp whistle announced the return of one of the runners. It was Lu. He and Tolder were the only members of Sevika’s family present. Her older sisters were hunkered down with her younger sisters in their apartment, waiting for word that it was safe to come out.

The small boy rocketed over the jut of a building and slid down the drain spout. From below, Tolder guffawed and peeled away from the group he’d been sitting with to meet his son.

“Their coming!”

Immediately the energy in the square changed. Spines became stiff, shoulder straightened, intensity built behind eyes.

Silco and Vander clambered down the barricade and rushed over to Lu.

“What happened?”

Lu did not shrink back from Silco’s sharp, demanding tone. On the contrary, his round face lit up. Excited to have his own part, excited to be included.

“Enforcers are crossing the Bridge!”

“How many?”

Lu’s rosebud of a mouth pursed, his dark eyes drifted up in thought.

Finally he said, “A lot.”

Silco ground his teeth and Vander took over.

“Did they fill the whole Bridge? Side-to-side?” Lu nodded. “How ‘bout the length of it?”

“They were about halfway across,” answered Lu, “and still comin’ over from Topside.”

His voice was too-bright for the information he was delivering, clearly not comprehending the gravity of the situation. He beamed up at his father, waiting for his praise. Tolder managed a chuckle and ruffled his son’s dark hair.

Silco stepped away and addressed the square. “Ready yourselves! Enforcers are approaching!”

At once, the meandering crowd began to move with purpose. Those who had proven themselves to be good enough shots readied the firearms the Children possessed. Ignoring the shake in her hand, Kat grabbed a handful of bullets from the jars brought up, and stuffed them in her pockets. She checked the clip of the pistol she’d picked off the Enforcer Up Top and saw it was full, save for the one bullet he’d directed at her. Her lips tucked in towards her teeth. Someone else should take it, have it to defend themself.

She ended up handing it off to Cairn who not only had proven himself to be a decent shot, but he had a mind for the inner workings of anything and everything machine. It reminded her of Viktor.

He took the offering into his hands gratefully. Kat recognized the gleam in his clever eyes as he looked down at the weapon, already coming up with ideas for how it might be modified.

Modifying weapons would be something Viktor would never have to deal with. Kat was making sure of that.

Others fetched crates of pre-made molotovs. Annie, her pretty face twisted by a vengeful scowl and her hand wrapped in a wad of gauze, brought up the padded box that contained a few crudely constructed pipe bombs. Vander retrieved his gauntlets.

There was a new stink in Zaun’s air. Hot copper and the dry, acrid smoke of gunpowder overtook the damp stench of filth and mildew.

In the hour before the Enforcers finally made it to the Entresol’s main square, more Children trickled down. They came from smaller barricades up top that Enforcers managed to break through, and they came with more information.

As Lu had described, the Enforcers were moving as militaristic units. Piltover seemed to have commanded that all of their officers march toward the Undercity. It was a maneuver that was completely unprecedented.

The Enforcers split up into smaller units, preparing to tackle the main drags into the Undercity, cover more ground; apprehend more Children.

The smaller barricades managed to stall Topside’s onslaught. They suffered minor setbacks as the Children used slingshots, molotovs, and anything they could use to physically assault them. Some Zaunites, opting to stay sequestered in their homes, opened their windows and dumped all manner of materials onto the Enforcers below.

Trash. Pieces of furniture. Boiling water and oil.

The efforts wounded many and killed a few. However, Piltover’s Enforcers had the benefit of firepower and seemingly unlimited rounds of ammunition.

The barricade that protected Augmentation Alley had the most success. Mek and his fellow augmenteers inundated the advancing Enforcers with white-hot shrapnel, coals the color and temperature of the sun, and crude flame-throwers they’d constructed weeks prior.

At least a third of any given barricade’s troop were shot down before the survivors decided to retreat further into Zaun. In their escape, some others were struck by launched snares and taken into custody.

Vander’s insides dropped further and further each time a new wave of Children fell in line behind main square’s barricade. Thoughts of his captured and fallen Brothers and Sisters a dead weight in his gut. The yoke of responsibility on his shoulders a near crushing thing - had it not been for Silco sharing it.

His Brother took the news with a grave face, but still held his head high and shoulders back; fully embodying the leader the Children needed in that moment.

“All we can do for them, Vander,” he had said in a hushed tone once the most recent return of Children went to rest or gather supplies, “is make sure that their sacrifice is not in vain.”

Vander nodded, unable to look Silco in the eye; ashamed of . . . he wasn’t sure of what. A muscle in his jaw feathered. Silco’s hand touching his shoulder jolted Vander back into his body. They locked eyes and Vander’s heart thundered.

“We fight for them. We fight for Zaun.”

And they did.

The Enforcers converged back together as they reached the Entresol square. A shiver of excitement went up Silco’s spine as he saw unwelcome surprise lock up the enforcers’ spines at the sight of the large obstacle in front of them.

There was a brief attempt on LeDaird’s part to stifle any more bloodshed.

“I will give you five minutes to come out with your hands up! If you refuse to comply, we will come retrieve you all by force!”

Vander peered through a small opening in the barricade. Across the open square, just behind the frontline of riot shields, he spied Grayson next to the Sheriff. Her brown face had gone ashy, and there was an aggrieved, distant look in her eyes.

“No one moves,” Silco ordered next to him, “until they do.”

Vander glanced over to his Brother, to Katya on his other side, to the Children gathered behind them. He looked over their faces carefully, eying the hurt and rage he found there; letting it attempt to light some wherewithal in him.

Five minutes passed in excruciating silence. Irritation building among the Enforcers, fury among the Children.

LeDaird offered no additional warning before he commanded the first couple lines of Enforcers forward. A thick, armored wave of navy blue marched toward the mountain of debris separating them from their target.

From behind the barricade, the pins on the pipebombs were pulled and launched into the air. They arced over the square, streamers of smoke and sparks trailing after them. The Enforcers were too close to enemy lines to turn back in time.

The pipebombs detonated with bone rattling bangs. Shrapnel cut down any of the Enforcers not felled by the explosions themselves. Limbs, guts, and blood covered the cobblestones. Screams and wails filled the air.

Through the gaps in the barricade, Vander watched wide-eyed. Horror and righteousness bubbled in his body until the two feelings became indistinguishable. Kat, numbed to the sight of gore per her profession, looked out in awe, the gleam in her eyes unreadable. Silco looked on in victorious wonder, an arm held up in preparation to order another wave of attack.

Then: the ringing pops of gunfire. The singing sting of gun powder.

Those pressed against the inside of the barricade leapt back on instinct as a spray of bullets struck the outer-facing wall. None made their way through. As the echo of the gunfire circled up and out of the Undercity, the Enforcers began marching forward. Vander shot a look at Silco.

“Put your gauntlets on Brother.” Then he addressed those behind and above him. “Bullets and bombs only when you are certain they can hit their mark!”

Before any of the Children could make a move a resonant THWUNK! came from the other side of the wall. A thick, hissing canister flew through the air, smoking trailing behind it.

From the top of the barricade, someone yelled, “Bomb!”

Immediately, everyone dove away from the wall. Silco toward Kat, Vander toward Silco. They landed with a thud against the ground, teeth gritted and bodies braced.

The explosion was not loud, but the smoke the bomb spewed was thick. Just like it had been Topside. Hot sparks of shrapnel rained down on the Children.

The cloud of smog was bigger, quickly wheedling through the barricade’s gaps and spiraling up and over its summit. Zaun’s flag rippled defiantly against it until the smoke swallowed it. The Children coughed and retched, their eyes became red and watery. Though it barely helped, they drew their black handkerchiefs back up over noses and mouths.

As Silco, Kat, and Vander scrambled back up, orange globes sparked to life around them. Like embers on a breeze, they shot in the direction of the barricade and rose up before being thrown into the thick curtain of smoke. The sound of smashing glass and surprised shouts echoed through the murk. Anguished wails quickly followed as the molotovs shattered and their fires spread, haloing the bleeding edges of black smoke in a hellish glow.

Sevika’s raw voice cried out, “They’re trying to advance!”

Vander streaked over to where his gauntlets lay. Kat withdrew and cocked her revolver. Silco whipped out one of his knives and scrambled to the top of the barricade to Sevika’s side.

The smoke was still thick and his eyes still watering, but he could just make out the square below. Ponds of flames from where the molotovs had exploded, the silhouettes of felled Enforcers twisting in the smoke. Other officers surged ahead.

Gunshots. This time from their side. Bullets shot from the small gaps between furniture and trash bins. Some hit their marks, piercing Enforcer uniforms with satisfying thuds. Blood sprayed black in the charcoal and orange colored surroundings

Inevitably, some Enforcers managed the trek from their side of the battlefield to the base of the Children’s protective wall. Bullets punctured some. Silco heard Kat snarl curses at them below, and pride swelled in his chest.

“The left!” Someone yelled.

Silco and Sevika’s heads whipped in that direction. A small squad of Enforcers were attempting to breach the far end of the barricade. Puncture it so others may swarm the interior and kill them from the inside out.

“Kill them!” Silco screamed. “No bombs! No molotovs!”

Those with firearms ran to the threatened left side. They spread out, waiting for opportunities for clear shots. Those chances came, but not enough to deter the Enforcers on the other side. Fire was returned, and a few Children went down. Kat pocketed her gun, making to grab one comrade who writhed in pain on the ground. She left the ones who did not move.

Wood smashed and iron screeched as the Enforcers used the ends of their rifles and billyclubs to smash through the barricade. Annie leapt into the fray with a war cry, beating at the encroaching officers with a pipe.

Just in time Tolder and Benzo emerged through the black fog, a large, metal barrel between them. It was smoking, the substance inside dark and thick.

Tar.

“Pull back!” Silco commanded.

It was an impressive feat to watch their massive, strong bodies ascend to the top of the barricade’s left side and not spill any of the sticky substance. The two men paused only a moment at the top, before hauling the vat up and pouring the viscous, hissing liquid onto their enemy below.

More screams. Along with the sizzle of flesh. The smell of hot tar and cooking skin joined the other scents of battle.

Attention gripped by the massacre to the left, neither Silco nor Sevika saw or heard an Enforcer successfully claw his way up the barricade behind them. They spun, eyes wide as they stared down the barrel of the officer’s service pistol. His breath was ragged through the brass mask on his face. His eyes were wild with hate. His shadow loomed large in the smoke behind him.

“You fucking - “

The shadow barreled forward, and Vander broke through the haze. He brought his metal-covered fists down on top of the Enforcer with a sickening crunch! The Enforcer gasped and folded, dropping his pistol. Silco dove for it as Vander turned the officer around and kneed him in the face before tossing him onto the ground below. He landed with a wet, bone-breaking smack.

“Put ‘em with the others!” Vander roared.

At once, Children below clustered around the Enforcer, stripping him of his remaining weapons, and frog marched him to the trailer where the other hostages were being housed.

Vander turned back to Silco and found the thinner man grinning wickedly up at him.

“There’s the beast.”

“We can’t keep this up, Sir,” Grayson rasped. Her insides were unbearably cold and watery.

This was the exact opposite of what she’d intended. In her mind’s eye she saw Bone disappointingly shaking his head at her.

Just another Enforcer creating more violence against the Undercity.

She had to make this right. Salvage what she could.

The Sheriff kept his eyes on the barricade across the square. And not on the injured officer being carried passed him.

“We are not soldiers,” she continued. “The decision to stop this needs to be made.”

LeDaird’s deep green eyes shifted to his second-in-command. “Surrender? Let them win? Sanctify terrorism?”

“No. This will only escalate further division and violence. We need to make the decision to stop this.” She grimaced. “At least a ceasefire.”

LeDaird’s jaw shifted, as if he were rolling her suggestion around in his mouth. Grayson waited on baited breath. To see if he would swallow or spit it out.

Time moved differently during battle.

The skirmish could’ve lasted hours or days, and no one would’ve been surprised.

There wasn’t the luxury of ruminating about the past or thinking about the future when bullets pierced the air. And bodies. When the coppery smell of blood coated sinuses. When people were screaming in defiance and wailing in despair all around.

There was only the present moment. And what needed to be done in it to reach the next breath.

The barricade remained mostly intact. Any Enforcer who managed to breach it was dealt with. Usually they were incapacitated, and taken to be with the other hostages. Other times they were killed.

The Children were not without their own casualties. As the battle wore on, some Enforcer bullets managed to drill their way through the fraying barricade, lodging themselves in flesh and organs. Cries erupted on both sides of the square now. The resolve in the Childrens’ eyes guttered as compatriots fell. The dead were pulled off to the side, the injured gathered and taken to the Drop.

It became such that Kat became more needed in the makeshift infirmary than on the frontlines. She kissed Silco, his lips tasting of salt, ash, and the bloody tang of freedom. In his hand she placed her papa’s revolver and made him promise to not do anything stupid before running for the tavern.

Silco found Vander tossing the body of an Enforcer to a hungry-looking group of young teenagers, their black bandanas hung around their necks revealing grinning maws of sharp, crooked teeth. Edacious hands clawed at the blood-soaked uniform, scrabbling for weapons, bullets, and any other trinkets they could find.

His Brother’s face was dark. Distant. Bothered. He slipped his gauntlets back on, now dented and smeared with blood.

Vander ducked his head down to breathe in Silco’s ear. “What’s the endgame here, Sil? How much longer d’we put up with this?” His gaze drifted to the growing row of dead Brothers and Sisters. Images of what the upper levels of Zaun must look like flashed in his mind. “How many more can we lose?”

Silco grabbed Vander’s bicep hard, the tips of his fingers digging into firm, bristling muscle.

“We’ve lost so many more before this. Steel up that loyal heart, Vander.”

Their eyes locked, boring relentlessly into each other. Vander’s gaze dropped briefly to the distractingly clean spot on Silco’s mouth. Soot, grime, and sweat tracks encircled the space Katya’s lips had claimed in a teasing frame that made Vander’s blood froth.

Do it. Just fucking do it. At this rate, there won’t be much time left.

His gauntlets clattered to the ground, cracking the stones beneath. His nearest hand snapped up and grabbed Silco’s shirtfront. The intensity in his Brother’s eyes gave way to bewilderment.

“They’re pulling back!” Benzo’s voice shouted.

Both Silco and Vander whirled around, the strange energy between them disappearing as if it had never been there. They ran over to one of the gaps in the barricade wall, and carefully peered through.

It was true.

Enforcers were slowly making their way back to the far side of the square. They left the fallen where they lay. Silco distrustfully squinted. Sevika and Benzo appeared behind his and Vander’s shoulders.

“Why?” Sevika’s voice quavered, all nerves and adrenaline. “Why are they retreating? Did we win?”

“Ya don’t think they’re going to get bigger artillery, do ya?” Benzo whispered.

Before Silco could snap back at him, two figures stepped into the square and grabbed his attention. Their hands were up. Vander sucked in a breath and went still.

“What - “

“Stand down!” Vander barked. He tore away from the small gap and addressed the behind him, above him. “Stand down! Nobody do anything!”

“Vander!” Silco hissed, reaching for him. “What are you on about - “

“This is Sheriff Renee LeDaird of Piltover.” His voice boomed across the square. Strained and clipped. “This senseless death and violence must cease. Captain Grayson and I wish to speak with your representatives so some sort of agreement may be reached. We have no wish to conquer our own. Enough have died today.”

Silco glowered at the silhouettes in the distance. Everyone around him remained silent, waiting for a decision. He felt Vander’s gaze on him, and Silco turned his head to see the deadly stillness in his Brother’s face.

“We have leverage,” Vander whispered. “The hostages. The fact they reacted first.” Silco’s nostrils flared, and Vander gripped his shirt again. This time: softer. Less of a charged. “We’re not givin’ in. We’re livin’ to fight another day.”

Vander didn’t wait for Silco’s thoughts. He leaned toward the small opening in the wall and shouted, “We have yer word that if we come out t’talk that nothin’ will happen!”

Silco’s eyes flashed. “Their word?”

“Yes!” A new voice responded. Low, throaty, female.

. . . I want to help, Vander . . .

Vander’s shoulders sagged in surprised relief at Grayson’s voice. The Captain had not done much, but she’d done so much more than any other Enforcer. Enough that a fragile hope lapped at his insides.

“Our officers will hold their fire,” she continued, “nor you will be taken into custody at this time.”

Vander could feel the dichotomous pull of unsaid opinions behind him.

Don’t do it.

Please make it stop.

It’s a trick.

We have to try.

He ignored them, and focused on Silco.

“This won’t be the battle that wins Zaun her freedom, Sil,” he whispered. “It’s a solid start, but if we keep goin’ on there’ll be no one to have it. I want’cha to go home to yer ma tonight. I want Katya to be able to pick up her brother from school.”

Vander wanted Silco to concede. So he used the best ammo he had: Enyd and Katya. And he hated that it worked. He watched the fire in Silco’s eyes gutter in consideration.

“A pair of us will meet you in the middle of the square in ten minutes!” Vander yelled back through the barricade.

Blood and viscera squelched beneath their boots as Silco and Vander walked toward the center of the square. Behind them, their Brothers and Sisters waited on baited breath.

Sevika had fetched Katya before they left the safety of the barricade; Nasha at their heels, her arms loaded with crude body armor she’d quickly made from riot shields.

Kat’s face was grave as the situation was explained to her, but she did not argue. Her supplies were already well dented. They couldn’t afford to blow through them all for one battle.

“I trust you,” she had said, placing a hand over Silco’s heart. She turned to Vander intent on saying the same, but the ire in his eyes gave her pause. Not at her face, but at the hand on Silco’s chest.

It was gone in a blink, and she was certain she was the only one who noticed.

They donned Nasha’s armor, held together with rope and scrap leather, and began the march across the square.

The handkerchiefs were back over Silco and Vander’s faces. A hastily scrawled list of demands was clutched in Silco’s right hand. His body vibrated with anger. With spite. With hate. Vander resisted the urge to reach over and grab his free hand. To be a grounding force for him, and for Vander to quell his own nerves.

The yoke of responsibility was beginning to feel like a noose.

Grayson’s chin lifted and eyes shone as the pair neared. There was an inkling of something akin to gratitude in her face as she took Vander in. A shadow of remorse tainted it.

LeDaird remained stoic. An unflappable monolith to his duty.

When Vander and Silco were ten feet away, he ordered: “Wait.”

The single syllable caused the tension in the square to spike. The Children rustled agitatedly behind the barricade. Benzo and Katya hissed mollifying orders.

Both Silco and Vander froze. With slow movements, both the Sheriff and the Captain raised their hands before divesting themselves of their weapons. Duty belts were tossed away, along with service pistols, and billy clubs.

There was a beat before Vander went to remove the one weapon he could drop. Unsheathing the knife at his left hip, he let it drop to the ground. Silco’s eyes followed the movement. They stared at the piece of metal now next to Vander’s foot. The shadow of the ‘V’ etched beneath the cross guard deepened in the uneven flutter of dying flames.

“Sil,” Vander hissed, low enough that only Silco could hear him.

Beneath his mask, Silco sneered at the plea. Ultimately, though, he heeded the request. Mostly.

Knives clattered around Silco’s feet. He kept Kat’s revolver tucked underneath his cuirass.

They presented their empty hands, and LeDaird nodded. Each pair took the last few steps toward the other, until they finally met in the center of the square. The battlefield.

“We appreciate you agreeing to speak with us,” LeDaird said.

His eyes searched the two men before him. He was certain the enormous one was the owner of the tavern. The other he couldn’t place.

Grayson affirmed, “We want this conflict to end. For all our sake. It is senseless.”

“It’s not.” Silco’s voice was a blade, and he cut straight to the chase. “We have said many times, in more ways than one, what it is we want. Freedom from Piltover. Sovereignty.”

“Yes,” acknowledged LeDaird, “unfortunately we are not the people who can determine such a thing.”

“No, you’re just the people who are sent to slaughter us like animals.”

“If ya want this to end,” Vander interjected, “we have demands.”

Silco presented the paper. LeDaird took it carefully.

As he looked down the list, Grayson spoke again. “The Council will have demands of their own. These events will not go without consequence.”

“We were not the ones who incited the violence,” Silco argued. “We protested peacefully, and one of you pigs tossed a smoke bomb. That’s what started all this.”

Vander thought he saw Grayson stiffen at the accusation.

“That is something that cannot be proven,” LeDaird warned. “And, regardless, several ignored officers’ orders to stay put, and resisted arrest after the fact.”

“So you opened fire?” Silco spat.

“And your people returned it,” Grayson reminded, careful to keep her tone neutral. “There have been losses on both sides.”

“You understand that Council will not be open to the Undercity seceding.”

“An’ that’s why we didn’ put it in the demands,” Vander told LeDaird. “We want the Enforcers outta the Undercity. The lot o’ ya. We want the trade blocks lifted. Let food n’ supplies flow back in freely - “

“You want exoneration of all your crimes,” LeDaird growled, shaking the list for emphasis. “The attempted burglary at the docks, the airship crash, the assaults and killings of Enforcers these past several months? What makes you think these demands are feasible?”

“Because we have about twenty Enforcers held hostage right now,” answered Vander. “You want ‘em back? You’ll take that paper Topside, n’ encourage Council to get on board.”

“How do we know you’re not lying?”

“If you’re willing to gamble with your people’s lives like that, so be it.” Silco shrugged. “Interesting to know that Pilties value their own so little. That they’d rather leave them in our hands if it means giving the Undercity anything.”

LeDaird and Silco locked eyes for several seconds, both unwilling to bend.

“Sir,” Grayson urged.

The Sheriff’s eyes tore from Silco’s to look at his second.

“We will transport your demands to Council. We make no promises beyond that,” LeDaird finally said. “In the meantime, we all agree to a ceasefire. No side shall antagonize the other. We agree to remain behind frontlines; no one is to gather materials or disturb the dead. When the Captain and I return we shall reconvene and discuss Council’s decisions.”

“Fine,” Vander said.

“Agreed,” gritted Silco.

Each pair turned and began the trek back to their respective sides, collecting the weapons they’d shed earlier.

The Children crowded Vander and Silco as they slipped back behind the barricade.

Vander tugged his handkerchief down. “They accepted. They’re taking our demands to Council.”

“They’ve accepted nothing,” Silco corrected, removing his mask as well. “Not yet. Until they return with news, we are simply at an impasse. We wait. Take stock of our supplies. Repair the barricade. Tend to the injured. We stay vigilant.”

The Children slowly dispersed. Some looked unsure. Others looked relieved, glad for the reprieve.

Vander and Silco went over to the narrow lane where the dead were being kept. There were eighteen of them. Twelve men, six women. A few were lucky enough to have a loved one sitting with them, openly mourning. They pet their faces, swept hair from their empty eyes, sobbed on their frozen chests.

Vander and Silco stopped at each victim, spoke with the mourners. Learned their names, thanked them for their dedication to the Cause, and promised that they would not have died in vain.

When they were finished, Silco walked away from the dead with a renewed fire in his eyes. Vander left with a heavy and questioning heart. The silence between them was fraught as they headed for the Drop next.

The injured were faring alright. Only a few were truly out of commission.

Beckett was one. He lay upon a bedroll in the Drop’s basement, his injured leg wrapped up, resting atop a pile of cushions and burlap sacks. Despite everything, he was lucid and in good spirits. Annie was back at his side. She kept her bandaged hand tight against her chest, her other repeatedly threading itself through Beckett’s fiery locks.

Kat and Sevika wove through the maze of hurt Children in the Drop’s basement, checking wounds. Benzo trailed behind them checking morales, and boosting them in a way only his oafish optimism could. Frowns lifted, and sniffles dared to turn into weak chuckles.

“How is everyone doing?” Vander asked as Kat began to poke and prod at Silco.

She, Silco, and Vander retreated to a quiet corner so she could look them over. More for her piece of mind than anything else.

“Alive,” was the terse answer. “Mostly puncture wounds - bullets and shrapnel - but nothing major has been hit. No one has bled out. A few broken bones from people falling off barricades, or down levels as they came here. A few have bad burns.” A muscle in her jaw flexed, and her eyes hardened. “Some may require amputations. Mostly digits. But I am not ready to decide on such procedures yet. Especially when our supplies are limited, and it is yet unknown how much more we are to be put through.”

“How are the supplies?” Silco asked, wincing a bit as she touched a bruise blossoming on his temple.

“A significant dent has been made. I sent Sevika and Nasha to go look over things now that everyone has been checked on. Speaking of,” she sighed, taking a step back, her eyes roving over Silco’s frame, “you held up very well for being at the frontlines.”

Silco smirked. He reached behind his back and carefully withdrew the revolver from his waistband.

He presented the chunky wooden handle to her. “Here.”

Kat’s shoulders dropped, the stress on her face melting into bittersweet nostalgia. She accepted, and tucked the gun between her belt and trousers.

“Your turn,” she sighed, turning to Vander.

“Naw. It’s alright. I’m alright.”

He scuffed his boots on the dusty floor and looked away.

“Vander,” Kat said, her voice taking on a stern edge, “Your knuckles are bloody and your hands are swollen from getting banged about in those gauntlets. Let me have a look.”

She reached for his arm, and he snatched it away.

“‘M fine. Both me n’ Sil are loads better off than most down here. Stop focusin’ on us. We’re not the ones who need your help.”

Kat blinked, mouth falling open though no words came out. She looked at Silco, who appeared just as taken aback.

Before anything else could be said, Vander rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before trudging out of the basement.

The fires below were winking out. The Entresol was quiet. Lu couldn’t remember it ever being so quiet. The Undercity - Zaun he reminded himself. He was trying to be better about remembering that - always had some dull drone. From people, from machines, from the rocks shifting, the iron creaking. It was never quiet.

Until now.

Lu kicked his feet as they hung over the balustrade he sat on. From here he could see the whole square. The Children’s barricade and beyond on one side, the Enforcers tucked behind the flimsy metal walls they’d propped up to shield themselves on the other, and the great bloody middle.

He fidgeted with the scrap of black cloth he’d tied around his neck. Twitchy boredom was creeping into his bones. ‘Ants-in-His-Pants’ his Daddy called it. His sisters called it annoying.

He wanted to do something.

Lu had liked running from barricade to barricade, getting news to deliver and spy on the Enforcers. It was fun. And it made him feel grown-up. The way daddy, Vander, and Silco had rushed to him to hear what he knew was thrilling.

He wanted that feeling again. To have adults’ attention and pride cloak him in a warm hug.

Sighing, Lu tilted his head up and stared at the smoky sky. How long would he have to wait until something happened? Until he could do something?

He and the rest of the Children were told to lay low. That they were waiting for Piltover’s Sheriff and Captain to return with a response to their demands.

Lu hated waiting.

A big glob of mucus plopped onto the back of his tongue while his head was tilted back. Lu whipped his head back to neutral and snorted before hocking the loogie onto the ground far below.

He tried to watch its trajectory, craning his neck a bit as it arced to the darkening square. It landed on a dead Enforcer’s helmet. Lu whooped to himself and pumped his fists in the air.

Giggling, he leaned over and squinted down. At the dying puddles of Molotov fires and the bodies in between. There were a lot. The Children had thoroughly kicked their butts! The golden details of Enforcer uniforms glittered under the last few sparks of fire. As did the pistols on their duty belts. And the magazines nestled side-by-side like a row of gold teeth.

Pick-pocketing live Enforcers was easy enough. With dead ones, he’d be able to walk away with an armload of treasure for the Children.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, reblogs, and recommendations keep me and other author’s motivational fires burning! I’d love to hear your thoughts ❤️ I appreciate you, dear reader, so much!!

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Coming Up Next: The ceasefire does not go as planned.

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