7

Chapter Nineteen

Babette watched the flow of people through the Lanes, as she always had, picking up all of the little details that, like clouds on the horizon, could warn of a coming storm.

And they were gathering.

Vander was a good boy, full of spit and vinegar when he was younger, but he'd mellowed after him and the others tried to take the fight to the topsiders, and had got their teeth kicked in for their trouble. Some of those kids had taken it badly, but he'd stumbled back in, with those two girls of his, and settled down to make things better where he could.

And he had. Things calmed down, getting safer. Hell, she was able to hang out in front of her place without worry, something she hadn't been able to do in decades. But he was gone, and his second, and his kids. They'd found the remains of his boys in Silco's place, that boy having gone to ground, and the thing that used to be Vander... she heard some rumors, and it wasn't good, wasn't natural.

But there'd been no sign of his girls, and Babette knew what that could mean.

She hoped they'd just run, instead of being taken.

So things were changing, but not enough that she couldn't see them with her own eyes, instead of needing to pull back into her deceptively secure bordello. And it was fun to tease some of the ones that passed her by, especially the youngsters, who'd eye up her girls but not actually have the balls to pay.

Out of the corner of her sight, she caught someone moving through the crowd, which moved around him as much as he slid between people, and it took her a moment to realize who it was.

Jayce Talis, the Council's new golden boy.

She'd seen him around before, usually on his way to Benzo's to pick up some sort of gadget. The boy was so obviously a Pilty it hurt, but he'd never stopped at her place, always in and out. He didn't cause problems, wasn't here to 'sump it' like some, just here for business, and she could respect that.

Only, he wasn't moving like Jayce Talis.

It was the little things, a more balanced step, a twist of the hips, not following the flow of foot-traffic but moving through it, looking around without his head turning back and forth too much, and... wearing a knife, his sleeve catching on the outline a little.

She wasn't the only one who noticed him either, the new kids, the ones from Stillwater, giving him some space, though it was just as clear they didn't know why.

That was another thing, the Stillwater breakout. The last time anyone had gotten out was over twenty years ago, and it was just a few. The damn thing had emptied this time, only the worst of the fuckers didn't make it out, put down like the dogs they were by the escapees, and, if they were to be believed, a spirit out of the Shadow Isles.

Only she'd had the misfortune to meet someone from there, if you could even call it a person, and the Shadow isles didn't do mercy. It would've reaved and left nothing but corpses and nightmares in its wake, though thankfully they didn't get Harrowings up here that often, the last one... must've been fifty years ago.

And somehow, this kid was mixed up in that.

Talis glanced at her, pretending he wasn't, which was also new, so she waited until he was passing by her, Charlie at her side in case things got rowdy, and called out, pouring on the charm, "Hey there, handsome."

He stopped, looking around, but she'd seen nervous Johns, and he wasn't. No, he was, but not the right kind of nervous. "You busy? You want to be?" she asked with a smile, prodding him.

"Actually, I'm not," Talis replied, focusing fully on her. "How much for an hour of your time?"

"An hour?" she questioned, looking him up and down. He was fit, that was certain, but that still seemed a bit much. "You sure you can last that long, kid?"

She expected a flinch at her comment, or some negative reaction, but the boy just smiled. "I've been told I can go for quite a while."

Babette had to chuckle at that, "I've heard that before." She knew she wasn't exactly desirable anymore, but there was always someone that wanted to brag they'd fucked a Yordle, so she still got business, not that she really needed it. But this kid was an up-and-comer, her friends that worked topside gossiping about the trial, and the ultimatum he'd received, so she'd take him for a spin, and make him pay through the nose for the privilege.

"Thirty-five silver," she set as her opening offer, Charlie shooting her a skeptical look, since even Delia only charged about eighteen, and she was her most in-demand girl. "And if you can't last, there's no refunds." Between the challenge she was laying down, and her rarity, she'd probably get him down to twenty-five, and-

"Deal," he nodded, and Babette had to stare, almost dropping her cigarette.

What?

Beside her, Charlie took a step forward, glaring at Talis with rouged eyes. "You don't want to know what happens to people who don't pay."

Instead of being intimidated by her bouncer though, the Pilty just met Charlie's gaze with one radiating amusement, though Babette could see him prepare to draw his knife as he told the other man, "I can pay in advance, if that makes you feel better."

Something's wrong here, the woman thought, a thrill of fear tracing its way down her spine, but she wanted to know what was going on. She normally played it safe, but she was a Yordle, and her kind could never resist a mystery. And if he was a sick basted, she could look after herself, if she needed to. Almost every man she'd met in the last century thought small meant weak, and she'd brought them to their knees.

Well, she'd done that to a lot of men, but most of them had enjoyed it.

"It's fine," she said, hopping off the fence, and waving for Talis to, "Follow me."

He did so, giving Charlie what looked like a nod of respect, something the other man didn't get that much, most men not liking the way he dressed, though Babette thought Charlie really made that dress work, and she led him to the special room, the one with the pistol hidden in a drawer, just in case. "Don't get many like you down here," the lady of the night offered, trying to get some clue as to why he was here, some angle to work.

"Academy students, Piltovans, or nobles?" he mused, calm, and she realized that his steps were too quiet, based on what shoes he was wearing. He wasn't silent like some of the wetboys she'd met, but Pilties had a walk, and he didn't.

Taking a risk, wondering why she was, she offered, "Killers."

There, his footstep hesitated, but it sped back up, "From what I know about Zaun, I find that hard to believe."

Now it was her turn to stumble, whipping her head back to stare at him, while he met her gaze levelly. Warily. Not looking down on her, but assessing her, just as much as she'd been assessing him. "No one's used that name in a while," she finally said, pushing open the door and walking inside. Reaching up, she flicked the switch on, the chemlights casting the room in a garish pink that helped hide bloodstains.

He followed her in, looking around, and took a seat in the chair beside the door. "Maybe they should," Talis remarked, as she moved to the bed, hopping on it, the pistol in reach if she needed it.

But the only ones that talked like that were Silco's people, and Babette suddenly wondered if that fish-eyed freak had sent Talis, to send a message, but... why? "So, how you want to do this, big boy?" she asked, drawing one hand up herself, ready to move with the other. "You're definitely overdressed."

Talis smirked, "I asked for your time, not your body." Reaching inside his jacket, she tensed, but froze when he pulled out a gold coin, worth fifty silvers, and put it down on the table. "I'm not here for sex, at least not today. I'm here for information."

Oh. He was watching her, and not relaxed, but just ready, so she waited for a chance to go for her pistol, as she stared him down. "I'm not going to tell you who broke into your place, Topsider."

She was ready for threats, or for the knife to come out, but she wasn't ready for him to wince, waving a hand as if brushing something away. "I don't hold Vander's kids responsible for that. I really should've locked the hexite up better, and it all ended up going well for me. But maybe don't tell them that? The next time they try and break into someone's house, they might find something worse than some notes and some volatile materials."

Once again, she found herself staring. How did he even know who'd robbed him? "They're, they're dead," she told him, but there was no surprise in his face, just his smile, though it wasn't right, fixed, as if he were holding it in place to hide his reaction. Had he done it? "You know anything about that?" she asked, still looking for a chance to go for the gun.

"I heard about it from a friend who was there," he slowly stated, carefully, clearly figuring out what to say as he did so. "He didn't get there in time to stop Silco. But I believe I'm paying you for your time, not the other way around."

"What about the girls," she demanded, "What happened to them?"

"What did I just say?" Talis demanded right back, and closed his eyes, Babette slowly opening the drawer and silently pulling out the weapon. "Fine," he sighed, "they're safe, but out of the city. I'm sure that Silco's looking for them, so that's all I'll say." The Yordle, realizing he was actually telling her what she wanted to know, quickly stashed the gun under a pillow and closed the drawer, pretending she hadn't moved when he opened his eyes again.

"How do you know that?" she asked, followed by the more important question, "And why are you telling me?"

Talis sighed, "It's complicated, and we'll get to that later. I am literally paying for your time, so I have some questions I need answered first."

"I'm no snitch," she told him, but he shook his head.

"The only thing I want to know about Zaun right now is where Silco is, as an associate of mine would like to pay him an explosive visit. No, what I want to know about are Yordles," he said. "The Academy's got physiological data, but I'm going to have to be dealing with Heimerdinger on the regular, and I know practically nothing about your society."

Babette snorted, "That overfloofed brat? He ain't a normal Yordle, honey. Not there really is a 'normal Yordle'."

"And I don't know enough to even know that," Talis shrugged. "Though, you're older than he is?"

The madam gave him her most deadpan look. She'd thought the boy was supposed to be smart.

He just shrugged, "I literally have no idea how your species works, Babette. I've got myths, and legends, and then some truly psychotic journals detailing dissections from the library, and that's it. So you're older, okay, but, for instance, Heimerdinger talks like he was in the Rune Wars which were a thousand years ago, but he's only three-hundred, so... how does that work?"

"Ever think he might be lying?" she offered.

Now he was the one who send a flat stare her way. "Tell the truth. He'd oversell his age, not understate it, but how does that work?"

"It's the portals back in Bandle City," Babette told him absently, freezing after she did so, not meaning to say that, staring at the Human. "What, what'd you do?"

From his reaction, he knew exactly what she was talking about. "I asked," he stated simply, "nothing more. So, portals? And Bandle City... I remember hearing the name, but not what it is."

She didn't say a word.

Talis waited, staring at her, as her hand edged back under the pillow. "Fine," he sighed, pulling out another gold coin. "Either answer my questions, or I'll ask for change and pay you exactly thirty-five silver."

Not for the first time in the last few minutes, Babette was confused. This Human knew too much, and could do... something, but still wanted to pay her? And then didn't threaten to walk out, but 'only' pay the over-inflated rate she'd given him? She wanted to say he was foolish, stupid, or both, but whoever Jayce Talis was, stupid didn't seem to apply.

Though foolish might.

But, oddly enough, he didn't seem like a bad kid, which is mostly why she kept going.

"Bandle's where us Yordles come from. It's... bright, fluffy, boring," she spat. "Do you know how boring things get when everything's great all the time?"

"Not personally, but I could probably ask around," he nodded, which was the other reason she kept talking, because the boy practically oozed mystery. Not the kind where someone was trying to be secretive, but like he was just as out of place here as she was when she first came to Zaun, before they'd set off the bombs.

By the spirits, she'd been so young.

"So, came here to get some dark to balance the light?" he quipped.

"Something like that," she shrugged, and he looked annoyed, opening his mouth even as she told him, "I'd rather not say. Too many bad memories."

Babette felt something in the kid flex, like it had before, not magic, but... something, but it faded, and his next question was just a question. "Okay, City of Yordles. Sounds interesting. Where is it, if you're allowed to say," he added, giving her an out if she wanted it.

"It's not anywhere," she replied. "Not anywhere on a map."

But instead of being impressed, he just nodded, like that was normal. "Okay, but how has Heimerdinger seen things he shouldn't have been able to be around to see?"

Thinking about the puffed up furball, Babette found herself sneering. "Coward ran."

Talis blinked, frowning, before he sat up straight. "The portals! Are they temporal in addition to dimensional?" he questioned, and she looked at him, confused. "They don't just go into a point in space, they go to a point in time?"

Despite herself, the Yordle found herself impressed. No flies on this one. "They do, but don't get ideas 'bout going back and changing things."

The Kid just rolled his eyes, "Yes, I know how Temporal Splitting works, Babette. Going Back to the Future only works if you're selfish, or have a fixed retreat point for you and yours to ride out the changes in."

"What are they teaching you in that Academy," she couldn't help but ask, not understanding half of what he just said, but she could guess.

"I took a lot of optional classes," Talis quipped. "Though, are Yordles the fucking time cops? Keeping a golden line of causality in place?"

This time, guessing didn't help. "What're you talking about, kid?"

"What happens if someone tries to change their past?" he asked in turn.

Babette had to shrug, "Don't know, but when they leave, they don't come back."

But that was enough to get Talis nodding, "So it's probably slaved to a singular instance, and other deviations are either Yordle-less, or have their own dimensional set. Either way, not my problem," he shrugged. "So, Heimerdinger ran?"

Back on a topic that she understood, Babette nodded. "What he saw was bad. What I saw was bad," she admitted, some of the shit she was there for would be with her until she died. "But I tried to help as soon as I could, while he turned tail and jumped away, comin' back long after things calmed down."

"At which point he promptly sucked up to the Zaunite nobles and convinced them to 'found' Piltover from the least toxic parts of Zaun," he finished for her.

She grimaced, "The fluffball did stop some mages from blowin' up half the city. I even thought he might've been better. But things didn't get better down here in Zaun. Only worse."

"He ran from his problems before, that type of person is easy to convince to 'run' from them again by directing them into a bubble," Talis offered. "And holy shit is the Academy a fucking bubble. Hell, it took getting the near-death experience of my ass halfway blown the fuck up to break me out of it," he laughed.

Babette shifted, studying the young man. "I gotta say, you aren't like I thought you'd be."

He just smirked, "You're not the only one."

​

They kept talking, about Yordles, Bandle City, and other places Babette had seen, and it was honestly the most fun she'd had in months, to the point she was surprised when he glanced at the clock, and sighed, "Almost out of time. Okay. Remember how you asked why I was telling you what I did?"

She wanted to tense, but she wasn't getting anything from the boy that suggested she was in any kind of danger. And, having lived in The Lanes since they'd been The Lanes, she'd learned to get a sense of when trouble was coming. "Yeah?" she asked, cautious.

Jayce leaned to the side, fingers moving oddly, but there wasn't so much as a wisp of magic coming from him. "Like you, I'm a bit... well-travelled, though without your breadth of experience," he announced. "But in my studies, and my searches, and my research, I've come across some... artefacts. Hexite, obviously, but others that don't have the same... mass-utility, and are more set. Deals were made, services rendered, but now I am in a position to offer others deals as well."

"And you want to offer me something?" she asked, suspicious. "And if I say no?"

"Then I thank you for your time, leave, and find someone else," he replied, which was what she expected from him. "Let's be honest, Babette, while you could try and make my life difficult with what you now know, I've given you no cause to do so, and you're not a bad person," he stated, and, she had to admit, he was right.

Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, having moved off the bed while they'd talked, and she realized she wasn't going to be threatened. Waving a hand in a 'go ahead' gesture, she took a drag off her cigarette-

"Would you like to be young again?"

And coughed, choking on the smoke, glad she used a cigarette holder or else she might've swallowed it. "W-what?" she demanded, pounding on her chest, trying to breathe again.

Jayce mimed putting something on the table, and asked her, "I offer youth, wholeness of body, really, so there's poison protections included, and in return I would like three favors, of my choosing."

She stared at him, and suddenly a few things made sense. "How old are you, K-Talis?" she caught herself.

"Kid still works," he smiled. "You are my elder by a good stretch, Babette. I haven't been to Bandle City, though I've been elsewhere, but I'm not that much older than I should be, just five or six years past what people think I am."

She stared at him, crazy for even thinking about it, but his question kept on bouncing around in her head, in a way she knew wasn't natural, feeling the same flex of something she had before, but it wasn't making her say yes. The lady of the night knew herself, and all it was doing was making her not ignore it, no matter how insane the idea seemed.

"And I'd have to do whatever you asked?" she checked.

However, he shook his head. "No, the artefact doesn't demand compliance. I'd be... upset, but so would your bouncer if I tried to leave without paying."

Babette found herself considering it. Yordles didn't age like other species, but she was old in spirit as much as in body, and she'd long since come to terms with the fact that she'd never be young again. But... "What would you want?"

"My first request would be for information," he told her easily. "Whores hear things, and if I'm going to eventually try and make things better for Zaun, I need to know what's going on."

"Why would you?" she asked, confused by the thought, though she had a feeling.

She just didn't trust it.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he shrugged, like that was all there was to it, proving he was young. "My second would be not to tell anyone about me, the deal, and to not make the deal with anyone else on my behalf. The artefact is... dangerous in the wrong hands, and is built to be used. I can keep it in check. You cannot."

"Stop that!" she snapped, frowning. "Just talk normal."

"Sorry, it slips," he apologized. "Effects of something else I found."

And he really did seem like he felt bad, so she let it pass. "And the third thing?"

"I'll tell you if I need to," Jayce told her. "But for now, consider it an open request. Just know it's three, and only three, for a reason. So, what do you think?"

Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door, the pattern that meant it was Charlie checking up on her. "Almost wrapped up," she called back, her wording telling the man that nothing was wrong, whereas 'Almost finished' would have him wait a minute and break down the door, ready to bash the John's head in. Three more knocks, two then one, told her he understood, and she turned back to Jayce.

"You gotta know, Kid, this sounds too good to be true," she told him flatly, trying to see if he'd crack, what he wanted her to believe flat out impossible.

"I'm aware," he nodded, completely unabashed. "Which is why I wouldn't ask for anything until you started to see results, which should be in a month or so."

"That slow?" Babette asked, surprised.

Jayce lifted an eyebrow, "You really want to explain how you woke up tomorrow and looked half your age? This is supposed to let a person perform at their prime, and that takes time, ironically."

The madam sat there, considering the offer. It was ridiculous. There was no way he could-

The boy gestured, and she felt magic stir, shadows and mist coalescing into a thin metal block, the top of which glowed, Jayce tapping it as the patterns of light shifted, and he paused, seeing her staring. "Take your time," he told her, "I've got other things I can work on."

And then he turned his attention back to the blatantly magical device.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Which was terrifying.

As terrifying as it was exciting, in a way she hadn't felt in decades.

Screw it.

"I'm in," she announced, and he glanced up, surprised, forcing her to repeat, "I'll take the deal."

"Oh, that was fast," he commented, tossing the metal to the side, the artefact dissipating back into mist and shadows before it hit the ground. "Okay, this is gonna leave a mark, but no one will think it's odd. However, it's better to keep it hidden until it fully forms, which should take a few days, and then it'll start to kick in. Do you always wear that glove?" he asked, pointing to her left hand, her fingers exposed, but her palms down to her forearm covered.

She took a breath, nodding, forcing herself to take it off, exposing the burn-scar underneath. It was ugly, and a reminder of how ugly the world could be, but Jayce didn't even blink. "Yeah, kid. It stays on. Not good for business," she tried to joke, but it fell flat.

"Well this comes with a tune-up, though it's only on application," he offered, and her head jerked up, even as he gently took her hand.

"Why didn't you say- Gah!" she started to ask, before the world rippled, and suddenly the man was holding a black cylinder, pressed into the back of her hand. That would've been odd, but she could suddenly sense the magic pouring off the thing, and it was dark, grasping and Evil as it sank into her, stinking of the vilest, most twisted feelings of Lust, Envy, and Greed she'd ever felt, a spiritual corrosion that stuck to her even as she yanked her hand back, staring in horror as it settled in and started to spread.

"W-what is that!?" she nearly shrieked, falling off her chair and scrabbling backwards, staring in horror at the device in his hands, which, she realized, had been in his hands the entire time, but she hadn't seen it, hadn't been able to see it.

"Hmm," he remarked, staring at her with the kind of detached interest that waved red flags everywhere, "I'll have to add this to the file. This is a Stamp," he announced, holding it up, and she could hear the capital S. "It's a tool that can be used to empower others, but, like I said, it wants to be used. So, officially, I am invoking my first Favor." Again, she could hear the difference, as his speech turned formal.

"My first Favor is such: That you will use your position, whatever it may be, to gather intelligence that you will pass on to me when I or my designated agents visit; this intelligence will be regarding issues that you, honestly and in your best understanding, believe it would be beneficial for me to know, beneficial as defined as things that would help me accomplish my goals, and if you are unsure as to what that means you are to inquire instead of believing, for example, that it would be 'best' for me not to know something because you want me to act in a certain way, regardless of my own possible wishes."

Babette could feel the words settle into her, one long uninterrupted stream, and she knew she didn't have to, but she also knew she couldn't forget what he'd said.

"My Second Favor is such: That you will not disclose the existence, through conscious action or inaction, of any of my Favors, the deal itself, information about myself that would be seen as beyond the capabilities of a normal Human of Runeterra, or other information that you honestly believe would harm me to anyone other than myself, and furthermore you will not offer my use of the Stamp to others, nor use it on another person yourself or via proxy, without my knowing, explicit consent and direction."

The second set settled, though she took some comfort in that he was commanding her not to use that... that thing on anyone else.

Jayce Talis sighed, and seemed to deflate a little. "Sorry about that second one, but I wasn't kidding about it wanting to be used. Once it settles, anytime you're having trouble with a woman, or have a woman who you think could be benefitted from the deal, the damn thing will summon itself into your hand. When it does, remember that second Favor, and just... don't."

Collecting herself, she took a deep breath, and stood up, dusting herself off and shakily taking a drag off her cigarette. "S-sorry, Kid," she said, keeping her eyes on the thing. "It's just... that's..."

"Yordles are Spirits, and without the blocks in place, you're getting a sense of it," he nodded. "I don't sense it myself, but I'm told it can come across as... strong."

"Like a rotting corpse," she agreed, watching as he slipped it into a pocket.

"Well, the original version was created by literal Devils, though this one's been refined," he offered, as if that was a thing you could just... say. "Base matrix is still sin-based, from what little I know about it, but the soul corrupting effects have been nullified. Also the ones that inserted the soul-corrupting effects were fed to... well, let's just say they're not an issue any longer, and that happened well before my time."

With a smile, he stood. "Well, pleasure doing business with you. And if you need help, don't hesitate to reach out. I won't be able to do much for a bit, but you'll be doing me a service for the foreseeable future, and I try and take care of my own. I'll see you in month, Babette."

The man nodded to her and strode out the door, his footsteps loud as he exited her brothel, and she was left sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Looking down at her hand, the sense of Evil had already faded, but she could see a bright red brand imprinted into her skin, a circle inscribed with runes that were, even as she watched, slowly shifting, tiny lines starting to creep outwards from where it had made contact with her skin.

"You okay?" Charlie asked, and Babette jumped a little, looking up to see her adopted son staring at her with concern. "He didn't do anything, did he?"

"N-no," she replied, which she knew didn't sound convincing. She didn't even need the reminder of the Favor she owed to keep her from spilling the beans, but it helped a little as she smiled, "He just wanted to talk. Wanted dirt on Heimerdinger, of all things."

That got a snort from Charlie, painted lips twitching upwards, "And he had to pay you for that?"

"Come now," she teased, "If a John wants to spend money on what you'll do for free-"

"You get paid twice," the man finished, eyes moving over to the two gold coins. "Or more."

The surrealness of her conversation started to fade, "What can I say, boy's a good tipper. If he comes asking again, send him right to me, 'kay?"

"I wouldn't mind tippers like that," Charlie noted, "and he was easy on the eyes. Mind if I. . .?"

"Go for it, just don't scare him away," Babette smiled, then thought of a way to explain what was going to happen to her in the coming weeks. She wouldn't have believed if she hadn't seen that, that Stamp, but now, she found herself looking forward to it. "He's fun, and I haven't felt this young in decades."

Chapter Twenty

Leaving Babette's, I had to smile to myself, the interview going off perfectly. Yordles were spiritual entities, which automatically made them Tier 3 at a minimum, and, while I didn't need the points, I wasn't going to turn them down either. Some of the locals were giving me knowing looks, seeing me leave the brothel, and I just returned with the confident smirk of someone who got exactly what they wanted, making an old codger laugh.

And hell, depending on what she looked like when she was restored to her prime condition, I might take her for a spin, if she was up for it. Yes, the Stamp itself would push her in that direction, but she was literally a prostitute, and I'd never actually used one before. What was it Socrates said, 'once a philosopher, twice a pervert?' Well, I was feeling a bit philosophical myself.

I'd exhausted my self-imposed 'three favors', the third, of course, being used to secure the rights to her Engram, the thing the Stamp was designed to capture and send back to the Company. She'd never have to know, and Company policy was to either wipe the quantum clones' memories to reset them back to 'Mainline Dimensional Standard', the mind matrix of who they were before the Agents started messing with things used to program them, or they'd grow up knowing they were clones, and trained to be a mix of personal assistant, bodyguard, and geisha. Specially programmed clones could be created, of course, but I'd already completed the forms in basic to disallow any 'faux-abandoned' clones, who believed themselves the original that I'd then sold off.

You could still do that, if you were a sick bastard, but it caused enough problems that it was opt-out-able, and I had done so as soon as I'd learned about it. If I actually sold off the original, they'd know it, because the originals were a way to back-door yourself into a dimensional sub-line, a splinter from an Agent's created dimensional variance, but one without the Agent in it, and wiping them of those memories interfered with that.

However, I'd only do that if I absolutely had to. The Stamp was a spectacularly effective gender-specific conceptual poison, but it was kind of a shit weapon otherwise.

The Company were constantly trying new things, but my version worked through the Sin of Lust, so it could only work on women, as I was, for better or worse, straight as an arrow. Any of my captures could use my Stamp, but it was, at its core, my Stamp, so the same restrictions applied. Conversely, a straight woman would only be able to be able to capture men, or 'husbandos' to use the Company terminology, while a bisexual would be able to go after anyone, and asexuals, well, they made shit Agents, as part of our job as Agents was to be entertainment for others, who enjoyed watching the struggle, and without passion there was no interest.

Are you not entertained? I couldn't help but think, shaking my head as I made my way to my next destination, The Last Drop. The bar was dark, and, trying to look without looking, I spotted a couple people watching the entrance. Silco's men?

So going in through the front was off the table, but that was likely a terrible idea from the start. Thankfully, I'd talked to Powder, and knew how to get around to the back entrance, circling and ducking through one alley after another. A ragged looking man eyed me, and my clean clothes, calculation obvious in his eyes.

Flicking my wrist, the blade hidden under my sleeve extended, and I met his gaze, which was quickly averted, the man looking anywhere but at me, and I kept my attention on him as I passed, then ducked down another alley, ready for an attack from behind, but none came. Resetting it as I approached, I looked around, but didn't spot anyone, opening the portal and stepping through.

"Violet, it's time," I called out, both girls looking up from where they were sitting in the portal room, as I'd warned them of when I'd need them.

"You're there?" the teenager questioned, and I nodded. "Come on, Powder," she ordered starting to walk for the gate.

I moved over to my gear, grabbing my pistol and holster, telling her, "No. I said you would be coming with me, Violet. Not both of you."

The brawler paused, brow furrowing with confusion and annoyance. "But it's her home too," she argued.

"Fine. Then after you and I are done, you can come back and she can come through," I replied, not budging.

That caused Violet's displeased expression to break out into a full frown. "What, you think we'll run?"

"Yes. Or more specifically, I think you'll grab her and try and drag her off," I replied coldly. "Like you tried to do a few days ago."

The pink-haired girl winced, though I couldn't tell if it was because I was reminding her of something she regretted doing, or because I'd called her out on exactly what she was planning.

"... Vi?" Powder asked, hurt. "You said you'd stay."

"I, I will," the brawler told her sister, "It's just..."

Ah, the second.

"Just what?" I asked, disappointed. "You don't trust me? You think you have somewhere she'd be more protected than literally an interdimensional safe house? Tell me, Violet, would you have gone in through the front door of the Last Drop?"

"I, yeah?" the teen replied. "It's my home."

"Then you would've been caught by Silco's men. Or maybe someone else's," I sighed, shaking my head. "It's understandable, Violet, but the power structures of The Lanes are shifting, and you're not dealing with other kids, you'll be dealing with the kind of people that were held off because of Vander's presence, only they've no reason not to strike now."

The older girl stood still for a moment, shaking slightly, before she mastered herself, nodding slightly. "I... I. Fine. We'll do it your way, Pilty."

"His name's Jayce," Powder chided, but I waved the smaller girl down. Now wasn't the time. "But..." she started to object.

"She wants to call me that, fine," I told the person I actually cared about. "I'm more interested in making sure we get in and do this quickly, quietly, and safely. Violet, the back door's locked. You know how to get in?"

"I do," she admitted.

"Then there you go, I'll be there in a sec," I commanded her, waving towards the gate, and, though she hesitated at the last second, she went through the portal. Turning to Powder I started to say, "I'm sorry, but-"

"I'm sorry," Powder apologized at the same time, and we both paused.

Frowning, I asked, "For what? You've been great."

"I, I wish Vi was nicer," the girl admitted.

"No," I disagreed. "No, it's not her fault. She's been through a lot. More than you have. More than I have. If I wasn't worried she'd do something stupid and get you killed, I could be more relaxed." Pausing, I smiled, "Mind you, if she's still like this next year we're gonna have a problem, but for now? Give her some time, and some understanding. Okay?"

"But she's being mean," Powder objected.

I shook my head, "And I can take her being mean. And I can give it back too, if needed." My first instinct was to let Violet snark, as they were just words, but I wasn't her parent, and, in many ways, ignoring her could go a lot worse than firmly rebuffing the traumatized girl, with my verbal claws retracted, when she lashed out at me. Walking over to Powder, I ruffled the girl's hair. "And I appreciate you speaking up, kid. I really do."

"I'm not a kid!" she tried to object, but I shot her a skeptical look, and measured where my hand was, from the top of her head across to my ribs. "Okay, but I'm not a baby!" she grudgingly amended.

"Never said you were," I smiled, turning and heading for the portal. "Be back in a moment."

Striding through it, I had to mentally re-orient myself as the smell of The Lanes slammed into me like a brick wall. The door in front of me was still closed, and, looking around, Violet was nowhere to be found.

Ah shit, I thought, trying to figure out how to explain to Powder that her sister had abandoned her, again. On one hand, maybe I shouldn't've have let her go first, but on the other, making sure she didn't grab her sister, and then try and run, was a higher priority. I'd honestly expected bett-

The door opened, and Violet stuck her head out. "You coming or what?" she demanded, looking at me expectantly.

Or I might be wrong, I corrected myself, nodding, suppressing a relieved sigh, and following her inside. "Let's start with your room, and work our way out," I ordered. "Also, make sure and grab Mylo and Claggor's stuff too."

The girl in front of me paused, shooting a confused yet wary look my way. "I... okay," she replied, a slight hitch in her voice, but she said nothing else. The brawler flicked on the lamp on a table, then stopped, looking around the space. She tensed, visibly overcome by emotion while struggling to hold it back, shaking a little.

My instinct was to tell her it would be okay, or to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the girl had already made it clear she neither wanted nor appreciated any kind of touch, and she clearly wasn't okay. Maybe if we had more time, I could explain things, but there was too much to go over, and we needed to get this stuff and leave.

Not sure what to do to help, I decided to give her some space, opening up a portal and stepping through. Nodding to Powder, I moved over to the large stack of plastic crates I'd had the house fabricate, picking up two, and taking them back to The Last Drop, though not too quickly, trying not to seem like I was rushing, which would only upset the girls. Coming back, I found Violet sitting on her bed, staring at the table, which held the chemtech lamp, it's solid yellow faux-fire light the only illumination in the space, but her eyes were distant, not seeing it, but something else entirely.

Part of me wanted to tell her to get moving, to try and snap her out of whatever state she was in, but... but I could do this on my own, just needing her to point out any stashes or things of a similar nature which I'd missed. Moving with careful speed, and as quietly as I could, I started grabbing everything that looked important, stacking practice locks and rough lockpicks, well-worn books and a sewing set, sacks full of mechanical parts and schematics sketched out in crayon, and more.

One box was filled, then the other, and I dropped them off, gritting my teeth at the weight as I'd packed a bit too efficiently, and grabbing another pair that Powder had gotten ready for me. Coming back, Violet was still sitting, staring, and only after I'd grabbed everything but the few things on her bed, dropped them off, and came back with another pair of crates did I speak up.

"Violet?" I questioned gently, and the girl didn't respond so I repeated myself, a little louder. "Violet?"

The teenager shot to her feet, hands up, suddenly breathing hard, knocking a chair over, the sound echoing in the quiet space, and I retreated, hand reflexively going to my pistol, but I forced it away, holding my hands up, palms out, fingers straight. "Violet?" I asked, as she stared at me, eyes wild, and for half a second it seemed like she'd charge me, but she shook her head.

"I, what? I, right, we're..." she trailed off looking around at the much emptier room. "You, what?"

Guessing her question, I answered, "You looked like you need a minute. You okay? Okay enough to do this?" I amended. "If not you can head back. I can have Powder check to make sure I haven't missed anything."

"I, no," the brawler disagreed. "No, I'm fine."

Accepting the obvious lie, I waved towards her bed. "If you want to check around, I can get that for-"

"No!" she yelled, cutting me off, then wincing. "No," she repeated, quieter, "I can get it. Um, did you..." she trailed off, waving towards the wall opposite the stairs, at the metal panel which held a red and white circular painted design, like a target, one partially smudged and worn with age. At my confused look she moved over and, with a practiced hand, dislodged it revealing a set of shelves, stocked full of ragged tomes. "Claggor, he made sure his books were away. Especially after one of Powder's bombs covered a dozen with vinegar..." she trailed off again, then shook her head, grabbing one of the empty crates and moving to drag it towards her bed, stumbling as it wasn't nearly as heavy as she clearly thought it'd be. "What?"

"Plastic alloy," I explained, mentally sorting for a local analog, "think of it like rigid rubber. It's nothing on Plasteel, but, right, not the time," I said, cutting myself off before I went down a tangent on scifi metamaterials. "It's good for this kind of thing. I'll grab the books and be back with more boxes."

"... Okay," the teen eventually nodded, and I could feel her eyes on me as I carried the box full of books through the gate, the girl trying to watch the transition, but that wouldn't be enough. Grabbing another two empties, I came back, to find her directly in front of the gate, a look of concentration on her face, and, while she flinched when I appeared, she at least didn't bring her hands up in a punch.

I moved around her, continuing to stow books. "Violet, the Gate's meant to stop particularly nosy gods, at least of the ones on the lower end of the power spectrum." When things got Conceptual, with a capital C, things got weird, and Company products started to fail. It was only really something you had to worry about if you were somewhere like Exalted, a dimensional subset that Class E heavily recruited from, where you could have an unblockable attack, and the other person had an unbreakable defense, and it turned into a match of whose ultimate ability was ultimate-er. Even a first-tier attack ability could no-sell defenses that weren't Conceptual, but would struggle against a similarly tiered ability, and fail completely to break through a tier two barricade.

The gate was effectively first-tier, which meant spitting in Cthulhu's face and running through it very well might end with a gate-room full of angry tentacles, while the Defenses were higher, but by no means as 'ultimate' as they were advertised, the distinction in monomolecularly fine print. However, short of some really esoteric bullshit, I should be fine, and that kind of bullshit tended to be multiversal at the lowest end, so unless a rival organization, like Vae Victis, The Outer Court, or someone else of that level showed up, I'd be fine.

And if they did show up, I was going to take everyone I could evac and Run.

I didn't know enough about Runeterra to say that there wasn't anyone that could still fuck with me that way, but until I decided to climb Mt. Targon or high-five the Void, I'd be fine.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully?

They wouldn't come to Zaun, at least.

"Need a hand going back?" I questioned, and Violet frowned, before nodding. Reaching out, she tensed as I grabbed the edge of the crate she was holding and dragged it into the gate, the teen following automatically, and stepping through. I made sure she'd put a foot into it before I let go, to make sure she'd not turn away at the last moment, before I took the next empty crate and stepped through, moving to the stairs, grabbing things and putting them away, but also waiting.

When she came through carrying another three crates a minute later, glancing around before spotting me and giving me a challenging look, I just shook my head, glad she hadn't grabbed Powder and tried to make a run for it. We cleaned up the rest of the area, and I moved the boxes through quickly, until the room was practically empty.

"Want to take the couch?" I asked, waving to the furniture. At her confused look, I shrugged. "The bunk beds are pretty big, and, well, your new one's better, but I figured-"

"No," she cut me off. "I mean, yeah. Sure. Can..." she hesitated, "Can we take them to my room?"

"Sure," I smiled with a shrug. "But we can do that tomorrow. Lets just move them all through the gate first."

Watching her, she didn't seem disappointed, so maybe it wasn't a plan to distract me so she could run, and part of me felt bad for being so distrustful, but the larger part of me pointed out that I had a reason not to trust this girl, just as much as I had a reason to not take her actions personally.

It wasn't that hard to move stuff through, and I could practically see the wheels turning as Violet started figuring out the limits and functional mechanisms of the gate. Just because she's not technically inclined like her sister doesn't mean she's dumb, I reminded myself, as we put down the last piece, Powder having claimed the chair for her own, watching us with her leg pulled in, sitting Indian style. She smiled at us, and gave us a cheeky little wave, Violet rolling her eyes and heading back through the gateway.

I followed, snagging another couple boxes, but, when I stepped through, realized we'd stripped the place practically bare. "Well, I think that's everything. Maybe we should go up and grab everything upstairs as well?" The teen shot me an offended look, as if I'd just suggested something rude. "Listen, either we grab it, or someone else will," I told her firmly. "I'm honestly surprised no one had come down here yet."

"Fine. But it's mine," Violet challenged.

"Yours and Powder's," I corrected, her determined expression faltering for a moment, before she gave me a stiff nod, turning on her heel and striding up the wooden stairs. I followed, up and around a corner, into the bar proper, then across it and up another set of stairs into a room I hadn't seen before, with a desk, and a doorway leading into another bedroom, the entire area dark, only the faint light streaming in through the central, orange-tinted window present to illuminate the space, barely enough to see by.

Vander's room, I realized, as the girl came to a stop, once more not exactly here anymore. "Violet," I called softly, and she shook her head, to clear it. "We need to keep going," I told her, and she nodded, hesitating, before moving to the side, flicking on a chemlight, but turning it down low.

"I'll take there," she told me, grabbing a crate and heading for the bedroom, ordering "you get this," as she waved a hand towards the office.

Re-opening the portal nearby, I started clearing off shelves, pausing to look at a picture depicting a younger Vander and his kids, all of them smiling, and carefully put it away in the crate. It took almost two hours, and two-dozen more crates, but we were finally done. Taking a break, we both sat on Vander's worn bed, sheets just as patched as the ones his kids had, and drank some water, something that still weirded out the pink-haired girl, which I'll admit I still found amusing.

"Okay, all that's left is the main bar," I sighed, checking the time, and finding it close to midnight. Doing this, I was going to be burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, but Viktor was confused enough by my insisting that we only work ten hours a day, so showing up late wouldn't help. I was pretty sure he thought I was coming up with extra stuff in my off hours, as he certainly was, but I could only do this so often. Thankfully, I only had one more time-sensitive issue left, and he'd keep for a few days.

Hopefully.

I definitely needed a place to live first, or maybe I could get Viktor to...?

Plans shifted and changed, re-ordering themselves, dropping the projected time from a month, to a week, maybe two. It'd be easier with Babette's help, or... hmm, could I ask my mother? Explaining why would be difficult, but if I phrased it in hypotheticals, with enough cushioning lies, that could work.

Nodding to myself, I realized Violet was staring at me warily. "What?" I asked.

"You're up to something," she accused, tone indicating whatever plan I'd just made was obviously nefarious.

Rather than take it personally, I just smiled. "I'm always up to something, Violet. Tell me," I said, calling the Psychic Paper to my hand, the girl stiffening as she saw it form. I opened the small booklet, focusing on what I wanted it to display. "What does this read?"

She frowned, then snatched it from my hand, looking back between me and it. "This, this is me. But it says 'Violetta Vandottir'! And, I'm from Freljord? And, what's this?" she demanded, showing me the blank piece of index-card sized paper, pointing at empty air below it.

One of the nice features of this piece of kit was that it made people not realize that something that small couldn't possibly be a form that was bigger than the 4x6 inches it was, but if I assumed the top-left of the card was the same as the form it was 'displaying', and I was basing this of the identification papers I'd seen, which the Psychic Paper was then extrapolating outwards, it would be...

"Your family seal," I replied, "What does it look like, by the way."

Again, there was a flash of confusion, suspicion, then understanding. "It's a tankard, like the Last Drop's, over grossed gauntlets," she told me slowly. "It's... you can't see it, can you? What is this!?" she stood and demanded, more than a little loudly. "It's magical, yeah, but... is it messing with my mind too!?"

"Quiet," I reprimanded, waving her down. "And a little, but it's mostly reading mine and projecting that outwards. It's also reading what you want to see, running it through my understanding, and mixing that in. Could you draw what you see?"

"I... probably. But what is this!?" she demanded, whisper-yelling, and waving the Psychic Paper in my face.

Mentally dismissing it, she dropped it like it was on fire and jumped backwards as it came apart in her hands, and I answered, "A tool, like any other. Silco will be looking for you, along with others, which means you need a new identity, and one that'll let you walk around Piltover without issue. Ergo, you're now Freljordian nobility."

The look the brawler sent me clearly indicated that she doubted my sanity, and she flicked her pink hair, scornfully questioning, "Do I look like I'm from there?"

"After we cut and color your hair white, yes," I replied easily. "Honestly, you'd be surprised how easy it is to shift appearances. Most people don't actually look at others, they just note a few key details, and if you change that, it really throws people off."

"You, you'll what?" she hissed, offended.

Lifting an eyebrow, I questioned, "Violet, you want revenge against Silco, correct?"

"Yes, of course!" she replied, "But what does-"

"Then you need to be stronger, and need better gear," I cut her off. "You're good, but you're not that good, not yet. You'll need time to heal, to train, before you can make sure you'll be able to kill him. And you'll need more than a pair of mining gauntlets, and it'll take me a while to figure out enough Hextech to make them for you."

Violet stared at me, confused, "You'll... what? Why, why would you do that?"

"Because Silco deserves to die, and you don't deserve to die doing it. And because if you died, Powder would be sad," I shrugged.

"Why do you care about her? Why do you care about either of us? And don't give me that 'it's the right thing' bullshit!" she yelled, cutting me off, making zero effort to keep quiet. "What do you get out of it, Pilty? Pilties don't do anything without getting something from it!"

I considered my response, and Violet frowned, getting in my face and demanding, "Well!?"

Pinning the girl with a stare, I spoke slowly, "You have stated that you will not accept my reason, so I need to find another. Give me a moment to find one that's still true, and that you will accept."

She shut up, and stepped back.

Sighing, I considered what I should say, what I could reveal, settling on, "I'm a spirit. Of sorts. Jayce Talis died that day, Violet, and I stepped in. You can understand why I haven't told Powder she killed him, that you killed him. I have his memories, but I am not him, so take everything you know about Piltovans, and understand that it does not apply to me, because I am not a 'Pilty'." I was Singing, but without any force to it after that first statement, my use almost conversational, my body slowly getting used to the power, though I couldn't do it for more than a few minutes.

I gave the brawler a moment to process what I'd revealed, her eyes widening in horror, then continued, "You've met my employer, DEATH, and my co-worker. But I am not tied to a facet of reality, as most spirits are. I am a free 'Agent'. I am here, saving you, saving Powder, because I know how things would have turned out, and I had the capability to change it, for however little that matters in the grand scheme of things."

Violet clearly didn't want to believe me, but was unable to deny my Song, which did not allow her refuse my words out of hand, the girl instead asking with desperate frustration, "But, but why!?"

Sighing again, I told her, "Because I'd like to believe I'm a good person. Not necessarily a nice person-"

"You've got that right," the girl muttered, and I shot her an annoyed look. "What?" she demanded, challengingly, daring me to prove her wrong.

"Fair," I admitted, as I couldn't. "Like I said, I'd like to believe I'm good, which means helping where I can. That's what I get from this. It lets me live with who I am, and what I've done. There are others who are worse, far worse, but just because others are worse doesn't make me good, only my actions do, and... I'm trying. Does that answer your question, Violet, Daughter of Vander?"

The brawler slowly sat back down on the bed, thinking deeply, before her head snapped up, and she demanded, "What's your name?"

"Jayc-"

"No, your real name," she demanded.

I shot her an unamused look. "It's Jayce Talis. I took him over, and became him. My designation for my organization is 'Jaycifer', because I am... let's just say there are many like me, but this one is me. Only I am Jayce Talis," I told her. "I do my best not to lie, something I used to try to do before, and some of it's a holdover from my training, especially to people I'm hoping to ally with, so when I tell you I am Jayce Talis, it is because I am, to the point it would work for name-based magics, if Runeterra had any."

Part of me wondered how my squadmates from Basic Training was doing, if Steven had ever managed to stabilize his degraded soul off in Westeros, but there was no way for me to check up on him. Company policy was clear on how squadmates couldn't interact after Basic was over, and that was one of the policies they strictly enforced. It stopped power blocks from forming, as well as keeping us from murdering our Flag-bearers, though Stacy hadn't been bad, just kind of an idiot.

Okay, really an idiot.

That said, I'd rather have an idiot than an asshole, as I'd heard stories of others, and how they got people killed.

But that didn't matter, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Then, then I murdered you," Violet whispered guiltily, glancing up and frowning when I snorted.

"Kind of, but more manslaughter, really. You, Powder, and Jayce himself for leaving unsecured unstable materials around are all responsible for his death. Yes, he locked his door, but that wasn't enough," I told her bluntly, with a negating wave. "And you didn't mean to, which also helps. I don't blame you, for what that matters, and in most cases, he'd only be knocked out. It was just bad odds that he hit the wall exactly wrong." Which, in the multiverse, meant it was guaranteed.

"If you really feel bad, then just learn to be more careful, and only kill those you mean to, but it's a dangerous world, and casualties are inevitable for anyone but the insanely strong or lucky. It's just a matter of minimizing them when and where you can, which is why I'll help you take out Silco personally, instead of merely finding what building he's in and setting off a Hextech bomb that'd make Powder's look like the amateur, if somewhat skilled, attempt it was, taking out everything in several hundred feet in every direction," I offered. "But, again, the difference between good and merely 'not bad' is the conscious choice to do the right thing."

The look she gave me was complex, disbelief, worry, guilt, and terrible understanding mixing with others I couldn't quite figure out. "You're, you're not human," she finally stated with horrible certainty.

"Or I'm more human than most people, just honest about it," I shrugged. "Physically, I'm just as human as you are, with a few add-ons on a metaphysical level. I started life as a human, and grew up as a human, if a different type than those found here on Runeterra. Now? Now I'm just me, trying to be the kind of person I'd like myself to be. The question is, what kind of person would you like to be, Violet?"

"I..." she started to reply, but cut herself off, as we both heard a door open, then slam shut below us.

We were no longer alone.