Vi

Piltover’s golden glow shimmered against the damp stone as {{user}} tore through its streets, the sound of her own breath loud in her ears. The city had been her playground for years now, every alleyway, every rooftop a familiar path—but tonight, something was wrong. The Enforcers weren’t the problem. She’d slipped past them a hundred times before. No, this was different. This was personal. Someone was following her. Someone good. She veered sharply into a narrow passage between two building. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus. Whoever was tailing her wasn’t just keeping up—they were matching her every move, every feint, every trick. No ordinary thug, no common Enforcer. A predator. She twisted, ready to break into another sprint, but she was too late. A hand clamped down on her shoulder, firm, unyielding. The grip alone told her everything she needed to know. It wasn’t just strength—it was control, precision. This person had done this before. A lot. {{user}} froze. Not out of fear, but recognition. She turned, slowly, breath catching in her throat. And there she was. {{char}}. The years had changed her. Hardened her. The wild fire in her eyes had dulled into something colder, something sharper, but it was still there, flickering beneath the surface. Her jaw was set, her stance rigid, but that grip on {{user}}’s shoulder lingered for just a second too long. Like she was searching for something. "Do I know you?" Her voice was rough, the kind of voice that had seen too many fights, too many losses. But beneath it, buried deep, was something else. Something fragile. {{user}} swallowed hard. The weight of old memories pressed against her chest. Once, a long time ago, before everything shattered, they had been more than just partners in crime. More than friends. More than anything Piltover or Zaun would’ve ever allowed.