Chapter Text
In the bowels of the Undercity, only the most immoral and ruthless thrive. Zaun is an aspiring nation of rebels, where sustaining power is as futile as breathing clean air in the pockets of the Grey. The grittiest businesses, drug trade, prostitution, espionage, mercenaries and cybernetics are what sell and control, and the Chem-Barons clutch onto their industries with iron grips.
After all, the fall of Vander, Hound of the Underground, seven years ago, serves as a cautionary tale that influence is quickly lost when the rebellious nature of Zaunites steers them to a more dominating force.
Silco.
He ensnared Zaun's leadership with Vander dead and Shimmer hitting the market. Keeping his place through violent muscle and bloody coin, any plots to dethrone him were long over when his third year in power commenced.
"The Eye of Zaun," you had only heard whispers of its formidable glare, but no rumour aptly captured the fire of its pupil. The kingpin had his hellish and natural eyes trained on your boss and 2nd Chem-Baron, Chross.
Growing up in the Lanes, you got by with petty crimes and theft, which could earn you a bit of coin for food. In the undercity, survival and criminality were intertwined, too messy and necessary to pull apart from one another, and the more you got away with, the deeper the hole dug itself.
Lurking at the bottom of the pit were the wrong crowds, if there even were the 'right crowds' in Zaun. Lurking, was Chross and the Hush Company. Spywork was more than an avenue of crime; it was a way of thinking, a way of living, best taught when one's mind was soft and pliable, young.
You were 11 years old when Chross found you. Juvenile overconfidence and a bad tip put you on a job with consequences you could never have anticipated. Intercepting some scrap part handoff, it was supposed to be intermediate value cargo, nothing that would change your life but would sell for just enough you wouldn't have to pilfer for a few months.
But nothing is ever as it seems down here.
The "scrap part handoff" turned out to be cross-bridge business, and the "intermediate value cargo" some sketchy reconnaissance tools properly developed topside. It wasn't until after you swiped the loot from the dumb Piltie's open crate and men with numbers tatted on their heads were chasing you through the ventilation pipes that you realized the mix-up.
You had fallen down a long vertical shaft of the system, stunning yourself, when the gentlemen criminals flanked you from the broken vent grille that opened into a back alley. Dragging you out by the cloth of your shirt, they tossed you into the dust on your ass, the cargo still clutched tightly to your chest.
6, as it was stamped on his forehead, towered over you. Spinning his cane pompously, moving to strike your cheek.
A whistle cut through the crowd of tuxedoed lackeys, causing them to snap their heads around and part the way. A man, more aged and accessorized than his goons, appeared down the sea of men in his chair, staring at you.
That was your last day as a kid on the streets of Zaun. Your last day scraping by for food. Your last day of freedom. Your last day as a petty thief, but far from your last crime. Over a decade later, that handoff led to you being right here in this seat, at this meeting, as Chross's prized agent.
"You argue like children," Silco's gravel cut through the thick air, "squabbling over scraps after the wolves have had their fill."
A territory dispute, that was the casing of this meeting. Chross and Renni–the 6th Chem-Baron–were fighting for a sunken district after Renni's Sludgerunners discovered the Hush Company fencing her Chemtech merchandise.
"Chross is no child, his death is 30 years overdue," Renni seethed, "treat him like what he is. A geezer grasping at straws to keep up with a changing underworld."
Chross waved a dismissive hand in Renni's direction, "Your quick temper bleeds into how you run your business, Renni. I have no interest in stooping to your level of expertise."
"Then explain your tuxedos reselling stolen Sludgerunner goods."
"I cannot. You do not sell anything good."
A disgruntled sigh fell from Silco's mouth, commanding all attention in his direction. But your own eye wandered, to the kingpin's right-hand, Sevika.
She stood tall and sturdy behind Silco's seat. A woman of middle age, she carried herself assertively with the darkened attitude of a life in the Lanes. The evidence was set in the features of her face, perpetually compressed into an annoyed expression. Her large nose scrunched up by the frowning of her full lips. Her arched brows furrowed above piercing grey eyes. Her skin was a smooth brown, only interrupted by the faintest scarring that branched up her sharp jaw and cheekbones.
"Focus yourselves!" Silco scolded, "Or be buried by your petty infighting."
You shifted in your seat, suddenly very aware of its poor craftsmanship, the air felt colder in an instant. It was as if the 1st Chem-Baron had chilled the entire room with nothing more than his words.
You snuck a glance at Chross, who sat closely in his wheelchair to your right. He seemed silenced; flashing a glance even further to the right side of the round table, you saw that Renni, too, was rendered submissive. The Chem-Barons were a criminal alliance, but they had a clear leader, as did Zaun.
With full command, the leader continued, "Renni, you will remember your place and our long-standing territorial agreements. Your ambition should be placed into Chemtech developments where it is of use to Zaun."
Snapping his head in yours and Chross's direction, Silco leaned forward, narrowing his gaze.
"And you mustn't forget your loyalties, Chross," he said, his tone pointed and knowing, "It has been many years since your arrival here, but your pampered scent still lingers."
A sore spot for your boss, you knew it from more than just the way Chross quietly hummed back a noise of disgust.
"Do not reveal yourself as one of the wolves in sheep's clothing. Refrain your fencing to Piltover goods, the vision for Zaun only survives when each enterprise is at its strongest."
"Understood," Chross replied, emphasizing each syllable as an outlet for his tension.
"Good. We have further business to sort." Silco stated, "Dismiss your seconds, this is strict information."
You looked to Chross for confirmation. You weren't sure why, he wasn't in charge. But with a curt nod from 'the geezer,' you stood from your seat, your focus straying to sneak a look at Silco's second-in-command.
She remained firm in her position, her resolve only faltering for a moment as Silco looked up to meet her gaze.
"That includes you," He said coolly.
Sevika did her best to hide the indignant look that coloured her face. You watched as a strand of straight black hair fell forward from where it was tucked behind her ear. Her hairstyle was neat, a short cut pulled half-up, but there was something so fitting about that one piece freeing itself and messing it all up.
As you took in the change with curiosity, your eyes flicked down to see piercing grey eyes now trained on you.
You held Sevika's gaze calmly, ignoring the pressure that built in your head from her intimidating presence. Only breaking your stare when she cocked her head away, unimpressed.
Sevika, yourself, and Renni's second–a rabid and decayed-looking man with a green glow in his eyes–filed into the best the Undercity had to offer as a waiting room. A couch of stained purple leather sat in the nook of the far wall. An old, stripped wooden coffee table stuck to the gummy floor before it.
The Chem-Barons were the elite of Zaun; they had, admittedly, very few but still existing places to conduct their meetings that were cleaner. However, the specifics of this gathering, the real reason Silco needed these two, required a more inconspicuous location.
You ran a finger along the nearest wall; it was grey and textured until you felt that texture transfer onto your skin and realized it was severely dusty. The wall's original intention was a deep brown slate with red brick. Your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to rub the residue away with your thumb.
"What do you think they're talking about?" you inquired, your back still facing the other occupants of the room, "Must be important to kick us out over."
You heard the way Sevika lumbered over to the couch, her steps heavy on the ground.
"None of your business," She said sternly, leaning into the taut leather, her legs spread out and taking up space.
Hiding a smug grin to yourself, "Apparently none of yours either." You quipped
You felt the aggressive narrowing of her gaze before you turned to see it. Touchy. That's fun.
"I think it's gotta do with Silco askin' Renni for more Chemtanks on security in the shimmer factories," Renni's man answered excitedly.
Your senses perked up at his rambling. He was almost foaming at the mouth in the opposite corner of the room. His eyes were wide and twitched as they tried to set on you. You gave him a kind smile. Chemtech had these effects on certain users; it didn't frighten you.
Every Zaunite had their scars.
Encouraged by your pleasantry, he opened his mouth to say more.
"Your boss's business with Silco should only be aware to them, not the other Chem-Barons, not the whole of Zaun, and certainly not big ears over there," Sevika cut him off sharply.
Your focus snapped to the woman on the couch. Your brows quirked with surprise, and a smirk played on your lips.
"Big ears?" You asked, "Don't tell me you imagine gossip too far beneath you."
"It's beneath anyone who does actual work."
"Is that what your industry defines as the job of a boorish henchman? It's like a hiring requirement that you must be as dull as a board?"
She didn't dignify that with a response, choosing instead to pull out a cigarillo and make lighting it her focus.
You placed your hands on your hips, feeling the rough leather belts and holsters that crisscrossed over your pants; they held your pouches and a silver dagger that peeked out the top of its sheath. Your weight shifted in your knee-length black boots as you slowly paced the waiting area, taking in the forgotten knick-knacks that decorated the corners of the room.
Nero had stolen those boots for you when you first became friends under Chross's company. You were too young to fit them back then, but you grew into them over the years, and they became your favourite and only pair.
Looking over at Sevika, you noticed the tension leave her body at the first drag of her cigarillo. The smoke billowed out her nose, forming pretty swirls in the air. Your right hand came to absentmindedly play with the hilt of your dagger, feeling the design engraved in the silver on the tips of your fingers left uncovered by your leather fingerless gloves.
Being within more decent proximity of the woman let your eyes capture the vaguest sense of something hidden within the scars adorning the left side of her face. The story disappeared under a strappy choker and that dramatic poncho.
"You have a staring problem," Sevika's growl cut through your daze.
You managed to school your expression before surprise could take over your face. Losing control wasn't recommended in your line of work; it was your source of power.
"I work in observation."
"Stop observing me."
"It's unintentional, really. I meant no offence," You tried the docile approach, "A reflex comes with over a decade of training under Chross."
Her dark eyes raked down your figure, taking in your roguish uniform, decidedly different from Chross's suited goons. As she made the journey back up, her gaze zeroed on your lips. There was a clear absence of the identifiable golden muzzle Chross installed on his agents.
"You don't look like one of Chross's guys." She muttered
"That's fairly easy, I'm Chross's only girl."
There was more to it than that. The company didn't have a gendered dress code, but you took on jobs different from Chross's tuxedos. Jobs that would be made increasingly more difficult as one of the muzzles with a number assigned to your face.
It was a blessing and a curse. Saved from displaying the proof of your servitude for all to see, forced to feel it in your bones after another job left you disgusted with the world.
"Only?"
"Men have an inclination towards getting involved where they aren't wanted." You bantered
This earned you a grumble from the woman–something between a noise of agreement and annoyance that you were making jokes.
You tilted your head at her, feeling the corner of your lips tick upwards, "So you do have a personality, I underestimated you."
Another pull from her smoke, as Sevika pinched it from her lips, resting her wrist forward on her knee. Leaning in your direction, she pointed her gaze at you.
"Most people don't make that mistake." Her voice was low, a warning and criticism in one.
"I'm not most people."
"Yeah? What makes you so fucking special?" The bite of her words coated in venom and intrigue.
Your eyes were locked on one another from opposite sides of the room. That same pressure rushed to your head as if your skull was being crushed from all sides, threatening to crack.
You took a calculated step in her direction, testing the waters. Sevika's dark gaze dropped to your feet, watching the movement, her focus flicking back to your eyes. A brow of hers rose subtly, a stoic expression claiming her features.
She knew this game, with what you knew about her reputation, you were betting on it.
Now, you just needed to see if she'd play.
"We just met," You pressed, keeping your voice smooth, careful not to feign innocence, "I've gotta be a few more drinks in before you get to know that about me, Soldier."
"Soldier?" She scowled, her eyelids falling low and disinterested
"Big ears?" You offered right back.
A murmuring from the farthest corner of the room piqued your interest. Through your peripheral vision, you observed Renni's man itching his arms nervously. It appeared the chemical had drained his skin of proper moisture, and he gave a hasty giggle.
"I'd love to find out," He blurted, almost as if it was an intrusive thought that escaped his filter.
But before you had a chance to give him the benefit of the doubt, he continued to peer at you, his following words leaving as barely coherent mumbles.
"Bet a lady like you has tons of tricks to show me."
Every time. Every single time you tried to offer someone the smallest sympathy, they managed to fuck it up for you.
"Not my type, glowstick." You brushed off coolly, your eyes never straying from Sevika.
The frustration from the advance caused your eye contact to form into more of a glare. Sevika's brows furrowed at you in response.
With a slam, the door of the room flew open. Renni appeared in the hall, her expression severe and fixed on her goon.
"Lex," She ordered roughly, "Come. Work to do."
Silco's figure was revealed behind them as they disappeared from the entryway. You could hear Sevika stand from the couch, but his look wasn't trained on her.
It was you.
"Boots, is it?" He sneered, but you found no malice as you analyzed his demeanour. That must just be his face.
You smiled down at Nero's gift. Tying up the laces was your favourite part of any day, it reminded you of simpler times.
Your gaze shot back up to his, commanding yourself into a professional tone.
"Yes, sir."
A snort came from out of your periphery. But you paid her no mind.
"Hm, Chross has told me you are the best of his agents." The kingpin eyed you over, taking in your capability like he could tell from a glance, "Do you carry the same confidence in your abilities?"
Interesting question.
"In over ten years of service, I've never returned to Chross without putting a smile on his face and useful intel in his pockets," You stated assuredly.
Silco looked over his shoulder at Chross, who sat behind him in the hallway, a tight smile on your boss's thin lips.
"She has a tendency towards the poetic," Chross said, "But she is right. And she is the best on offer."
You did your best to balance the warmth and rot brought to your stomach by the praise. You liked being good at your job. You didn't have time to address the rot.
"I need information gathered, proper work done by a spy, a rogue," Silco looked back at you, "I've had Chross transfer you to my detail for the next quarter."
Sevika was visible in the corner of your eye now as she stepped up into the conversation. By the sound of her stumbling steps, you could tell she was not happy.
Silco spoke before she got the chance, "You will return to The Last Drop with us, you will be briefed there."
He did not ask permission. You knew many men like this. Everything was a statement. Some used it to feign power, and others used it because they already had it. In Silco's case, it was the latter.
"Yes, sir." You said again, these men never objected to that.
"Good." He had to have the last word, and then he was gone, the click of his shoes sharp down the hallway.
Sevika followed him, a harsh glance thrown quickly over her shoulder in your direction as she passed you. Chross's eyes watched her as she left, snapping his attention back to you hurriedly before wheeling into the room and shutting the door behind him.
"She is certainly not a fan of yours," He strained.
"She won't last long fighting this charm."
Chross looked at you. Looked through you, rather, with his familiar critical glare.
The rot grew toxic in your stomach.
"Flatter her. Use what you learned about her preferences at The Gardens. You will get us nowhere if that is how she looks at you."
"I've done my research. I've watched her for months. Sevika will not fall for flattery, she'll see right through it. She needs a challenge, it can't come easy." You advised, the warmth overtaking the rot as you fell into the habits you knew best, "She doesn't trust me, but I can use that, redirect her to thinking it's for typical reasons."
Chross shook his head, dissatisfied.
"I should've put 3 on this. Reconnaissance, from the shadows, stealth assassinations where needed. He would have this done in weeks."
A sour expression took over your features before you could cool it.
"He would never get close enough, " you contended. "You want eyes on Silco's plans? You want the odds swayed in your favour to claim the throne? You want this 'Jinx' threat neutralized before it hands Zaun over to Piltover? You need careful, you need undercover, you need me."
Chross digested your words, reluctant as ever. His disagreement waning, yet something in his eyes ordered you to fix your face.
So you did, yielding to obedience. Your stomach fought itself. It fought your heart. And your heart fought your brain.
"And 3 is an idiot. His mission would be done in weeks because he thought Silco's porn preference was the most useful intel." You added, unable to resist.
Chross sighed, closing his eyes under his pinpoint shades, he knew it was true. Then, holding out his hand, he beckoned you to crouch to him.
So you did. Leaning your cheek into his hand, you felt a familiar wrinkled touch.
"You must be careful, B." Chross sighed lowly, "If Sevika catches you, you're dead. If Silco catches you, you're mutilated, then dead."
"Then I won't let them catch me, " you said, a fire in your conviction. “You said I was your best, that was the one lie we didn't tell."
Chross's hand moved to pet your hair, "No, you also said that you've never returned to me without putting a smile on my face," then it was a smile he gave, "Return to me, my dear B."
You missed your father.
You often wondered if he searched for you in the years after Chross took you. When you last saw him, he was a young man. His hands would be smoother, calloused but not aged.
The truth reverberated in your bones: This was all a poor imitation.
You left Chross after he kissed your cheek.
Exiting the abandoned building, you were met with the bright and grimy streets of Zaun. Dark metal, coloured glass, and rusty pipework built upwards into towers and neon signs. The wrong crowds–shady characters, brutish thugs, all lurking, all high on Shimmer or tweaking from Chemtech–littered and packed the streets and catwalks.
Silco and Sevika were several leagues ahead of you already. Somehow, they managed to stand out and blend in simultaneously; they lived and breathed the dream of Zaun. They were the aspiring nation of rebels.
You caught up to them with a brisk pace, still maintaining a respectful and safe distance.
You observed Sevika as she trudged through the thoroughfare. She was a frightening presence to passersby, commanding unnerving awe instead of respect.
Her voice echoed in your mind, she hated being watched.
If she only knew what was in store for her. As your mark, your eyes and ears would be on her every move.
Sevika was your target.
Your enemy.
The woman at the center of your long-con.