7. Chaos Drawn In Lines

[Scene – After Vander's Arrest | The Lanes, Near the Holding Tower]

Ashryn arrived just as the last enforcer squad disappeared down the smoke-laced streets, their boots echoing like war drums in retreat. The sharp tang of chem-fire still clung to the air.

She stepped over a scorched barricade, her coat fluttering behind her, silver-blue threads catching the dim Zaunlight. Cael trailed behind, muttering under his breath about being a few minutes too late.

Ashryn didn't mind. She had time.

She crouched near a cracked manhole cover, fingers brushing fresh soot. Her eyes traced the chaos—broken crates, chemical residue, blood streaks dragged toward the holding lines.

Then—

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

She looked up.

Silco.

He emerged from a shrouded alleyway like a ghost with debts to collect—coat buttoned, hands behind his back, shimmer-eye gleaming like a dying star. His guards flanked him but kept their distance.

Ashryn stood, offering a short, mock-curtsy. "Well, well. If it isn't Zaun's favorite failed prophet."

Silco didn't blink. "And here I thought the Converter had a mind of its own."

She gave a lopsided grin. "Oh it does. I'm just the girl it tolerates."

He studied her. "Vander's gone. Hauled off like a dog in chains. His grip on the Lanes is done."

Ashryn tilted her head. "Funny, I wasn't looking for Vander. I'm here for his brats."

Silco's brow twitched. "You mean the girl with the fists and the one with the stare?"

"Vi and Powder," Ashryn said with a cheerful snap of her fingers. "Smart kids. Emotional, loud, violent—my kind of people."

"You want to recruit them?"

"I want to talk to them," she said breezily. "Offer them a better view from the tower before the streets swallow them."

Silco's voice darkened. "And if they refuse?"

Ashryn's smile didn't waver. "Then I'll bribe them. Or tease them. Worst case, I'll wait until the city breaks them and offer a hand when they're crawling. People always remember who offered the first real one."

Silco's jaw tightened.

"You've drawn eyes," he said. "Piltover won't let this stand."

"I know," she chirped. "Isn't it exciting?"

He gave her a long, venom-laced stare. "You're going to get people killed."

"They're already dying," she replied, still smiling. "I'm just giving them something worth bleeding for."

A beat passed between them.

"You'll need allies," he said slowly.

She grinned wider. "I'll settle for rivals that don't bore me."

Silco gave the faintest smirk, but his eye lost none of its chill. "Be careful, girl. Virelle might burn brighter than Zaun ever did—but bright flames die fastest."

Ashryn turned, already walking toward the holding tower's smoke trail. "Maybe. Or maybe I just burn better."

She waved a hand over her shoulder. "Give your regards to Singed. Tell him I've got something shiny coming his way… eventually."

Cael fell into step beside her.

"You're really not helping them get Vander back?" he asked.

Ashryn shrugged, humming as they walked. "They've already got a plan. But once I find the sisters? Well…"

She looked up at the blinking lights above the tower.

"Might be fun to crash the party."

---

---

Warehouse 12 – Main Harbour, Zaun

POV: 3rd Person

Rain tapped softly on the roof of Warehouse 12, the scent of sea oil and metal filling the damp air. Within its steel shell sat Vander, cuffed and bruised but not broken—eyes steady, shoulders square.

Across from him stood Sheriff Grayson, coat still buttoned despite the humidity. Her face, older than her years, was calm—almost regretful.

"We were supposed to keep the peace, Vander," she said quietly. "That was the deal."

Vander chuckled, voice low and rough. "Peace died the day they started digging into Zaun with golden shovels."

"You think I don't know that?" Grayson snapped, then paused. She exhaled. "Look. You still have options. Tell me what I need to hear. Help me stop this before it turns to war."

Vander gave a slow shake of his head. "You're not stopping anything. You're just the first wave. And I'm not handing them anyone—least of all my kids."

Grayson clenched her jaw. "Then Piltover sends someone worse."

"They already did," he muttered.

A guard knocked from outside. The pattern meant something.

She turned slightly. "Just… think about what I said."

---

Vi crouched beside a rusted crate, rain plastering her hair to her brow. Her fingers flexed nervously around her gauntlet straps.

Behind her stood Sevika, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder, all huddled under a sheet of dripping canvas.

"Warehouse 12," Sevika said. "That's where they've got him. Light patrols, but I saw Grayson go in."

Vi nodded, teeth clenched. "Benzo was right. If we wait too long, they'll ship him to Piltover."

"We could still run," Claggor offered half-heartedly. "Slip past the gates—start new—"

Vi shot him a glare.

"He's our dad."

Mylo rolled his shoulders. "Then let's do this."

Sevika grunted. "Stay close. In and out. Quiet."

They moved like shadows—swift and silent. Vi took point, Sevika at her back. Mylo cracked a rusted side hatch open. They slipped in.

---

Inside, the warehouse was quiet… too quiet.

Vi scanned the gloom. "Something's off."

A flash of motion.

"INTRUDERS!"

Floodlights burst on. Enforcers rose from behind crates and scaffolding, ambushing them from all sides. The group froze.

Vi swore. "Trap."

"Lay down your weapons!" an enforcer barked.

Sevika reached for her gauntlet, but—

PSSHHHT!

A loud hiss filled the air as violet gas hissed from the ventilation pipes above.

The smell was sharp. Wrong.

And then… they emerged.

Twisted figures with glowing purple veins, twitching and snarling. Shimmer-enhanced bodies, barely human.

Behind them walked Silco, flanked by two lieutenants.

"Zaun's future always arrives... messy," he murmured.

Vi raised her fists, seething. "You."

Silco grinned, voice like acid. "You've grown. Still reckless. Still so predictable."

Powder trembled beside Claggor. Mylo stood protectively in front of her.

Vander strained against his cuffs. "Silco! You sick bastard, what have you done?"

"Evolution," Silco replied. "And you're just in the way."

Before another word was spoken, a sudden whoosh of air slammed the main doors open.

Everyone turned.

---

A cloak fluttered into the warehouse like a storm.

Ashryn Virelle strode through the threshold—coat draped over her shoulders, hair wet from rain, glowing converter pendant at her chest pulsing faintly. The enforcers raised weapons. She ignored them.

"Well, this is cozy," she said, smirking. "Family reunion, criminal syndicate, chemical zombies... and a hostage or two. What's next? Tea and cake?"

Silco's eyes narrowed. "You're early."

Ashryn twirled a bolt between her fingers and gave a shrug. "Sue me for being punctual."

She looked over at Vander. "Hey old man. You alright?"

Vander blinked. "I'm not sure what you are."

"Neither is Piltover," Ashryn said cheerfully, then turned toward Vi and the gang, eyes lingering on Powder. "But I think I found what I came for."

Vi blinked. "You… you're Ashryn Virelle."

Ashryn winked. "In the flesh. And you must be Vi. Heard a lot. You punch hard, right?"

Vi hesitated. "Why are you here?"

Ashryn looked over at Silco. "Little shimmer birdie said you'd be making trouble. Thought I'd drop in. Y'know… in case things got interesting."

She walked casually past a stunned enforcer, ruffling the man's collar.

Then her voice sharpened. "I'm here for the girls. Vander? He's yours, Silco, if you want him."

Everyone froze.

Vander stared. "You don't even know them."

Ashryn gave him a tilted grin. "Sure I do. They're Zaun's future."

Then she cracked her neck, looked at the enforcers and shimmer-men, and clapped once.

"Well, guess it's time to see who wants to bleed first."