The Good Life: The Prey (ch. 92)

Things had deviated rather significantly from his original plans, Silco mused as he lounged in his seat at the half cog table of the Council. 

He had joined the Council with certain… preconceived notions. Notions that he hadn't truly been aware of until he had been formally inducted into the Council of Piltover by his… peers. He had been right on the mark with some of his fellow Councilors -- Hoskel was a foolish, petty man who cared about nothing beyond his bottom line, and Salo was a weak willed and spineless coward who simpered for whoever had the loudest voice amongst the Council. Which until quite recently, had been Mel Medarda.

Others had been a surprise. An unwelcome one. Heimerdinger wasn't the man that Silco thought he was. The Yordle, for all of his technological brilliance, was blind to everything else. The man had ruled Piltover for nearly three hundred years and the conditions of the Undercity were not a deliberate decision on his part. He hadn't accepted that he would be burying some in the dirt so the many could bask in the sunlight. It wasn't even willful ignorance of a man turning a blind eye to the ramifications of his actions.  

There wasn't a malicious bone in Heimerdinger's body. The cruelty, the suffering -- his childhood spent growing up in a world where there was just never enough for everyone… all of it unintended. All of it missed by the brilliant scientist who had made Piltover what it was. The Yordle had been downright aghast when he saw Silco for the first time and learned that there was chemical runoff spilling into Zaun from the gas refineries. 

Now, weeks later, Silco still wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. 

At the very least Mel and Cassandra were creatures that he could understand, even as they sat divided on the Council. They would have despaired if they ever learned how similar they were to his Chem-Barons - petty politicians playing pointless games. Only the degree of wealth changed. That, and his Barons weren't so delusional as to think that they were somehow a force of good in the city. That they bettered it with their initiatives and charities, stemming the symptoms while the root of the infection could be traced right to their own feet. 

And just like his Barons, they were putting on a paper thin facade of unity before a common enemy. A facade that their enemy had already seen through as they maneuvered to divide and conquer them. 

“Remember Councilors, we are supposed to be intimidating! Let Lady Ambessa return to Noxus with tales of a fearsome Council with the willingness to resist their incursion and threats of our sovereignty!” Heimerdinger said, small fist thudding against the table he sat at the head of. Cassandra on his right, Mel at his left -- both women clinging to power with white knuckles, but both losing their grip regardless with no idea why. Silco had no intention of informing them. 

“Silco should be most adept at that,” Salo remarked from across the table, seated on Mel's side of it. “Scowling and intimidation is how the denizens of the Undercity communicate, do they not?” He wore a slight smile, as if he were being particularly clever. 

A weak willed boy -- that was Silco's estimation of Salo. One who inherited his position due to no merit of his own, and one who had never suffered consequences for his actions. He wouldn't last a day in Zaun. A minnow that thought himself a leviathan. It would be amusing if it weren't so pathetic. 

“Councilor Salo!” Heimerdinger rebuked, looking sharply at the cripple who had brought his own chair. “A united front!” He reiterated, sending a glare in Salo's direction. However, he didn't seem properly chastised until Mel delivered a subtle glance. Like a bag in the wind, Salo drifted whichever way the wind was blowing. Come a few weeks from now, Silco expected him to come crawling back on his hands and knees to Cassandra's faction. 

“My apologies, Councilor Silco. A poor joke to lighten the mood,” Salo offered, his lips thinning when Silco gave no reaction beyond a reproachful glance. The boy didn't even have it in him to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds before looking away. 

Thankfully, he was saved from having to respond by the doors to the Council room opening, and in strode the guest of the hour. 

Ambessa Medarda was a powerfully built woman whose more advanced age had hardly slowed her down. She was what one pictured when they thought of Noxian warlords, just as much as he was what some imagined when one thought of Zaun. Her gaze flickered across the room, searching for threats and allies alike, while her guard of three trailed behind her. Her expression was one of indifference, but there was a caution in her gaze that told him that she was aware she was walking into a trap, but still waiting to see what kind. 

A foolish one. A misguided one. One that reeked of desperation and them grasping for any way to avoid what they all knew was coming. 

“Councilors. Daughter,” Ambessa greeted them, stopping before the cog shaped semi circle. “I received your summons. Though, I do wonder what could be so urgent?” She asked, her gaze sliding to Mel in particular. 

Oh? Had Mel not seen fit to inform her mother? 

Interesting. 

It changed little in Silco's estimation if there was a rift between the mother and daughter. Their fates were already sealed and no amount of thrashing or begging could change it. Mel's days in Piltover were numbered. Though… 

It was quite interesting that Salo had come crawling back to her prior to the meeting. An indication of something, though of what Silco wasn't yet sure. 

“Greetings, Lady Medarda. You have our apologies for the sudden summons, but we received some most troubling news and it was our hope that you could offer a degree of clarification. I'd hate for relations to sour because of a misunderstanding,” Heimerdinger began, a certain edge in his tone that Silco was hearing for the first time. The absurdly oblivious and friendly Yordle spoke with a degree of seriousness that almost seemed out of character for him. 

“If it is within my ability, I see no harm, Councilors. However, I will not be interrogated, nor will I betray my homeland,” Ambessa replied, clearly already suspecting what led to her summons. “I hope you understand.” 

“It's perfectly understandable,” Heimerdinger started, and Silco had to close his eyes for a brief moment. The Yordle simply didn't have it in him to be intimidating. Too kind, too compassionate, too wary of hurting feelings… he was a nurturer by nature, Silco had discovered. One who didn't have the heart to pull weeds from his garden. 

“The three field armies Noxus is marching in our direction,” Silco began, opening his eyes and meeting Ambessa's gaze unflinchingly. “Would you care to answer a few questions about that?” 

Image was everything in a negotiation, and Silco had cultivated his over decades. From the tone of his voice, to his posture, to angling his head so that his bad eye was always on display. All of it subtle manipulations to aid in the art of intimidation. Because as much of a twit Salo was, he wasn't wrong -- Zaunites spoke intimidation as their first language. Violence was a close second, and favors was the third. 

That being said, he was keenly aware that intimidating the Noxian warlord was a tall order indeed, all the more so when they were in such a position of weakness. 

“Reinforcements for the invasion of Ionia, I believe,” Ambessa replied, her tone giving nothing away. 

“An interesting course they're setting, in that case. I was under the impression that Ionia was to the east. Not the south,” Silco continued, his tone idle as he calmly lit a cigar. “I hope you'll indulge our curiosity. Otherwise, our imaginations might run wild as to what a Noxian army a hundred and fifty thousand strong, complete with three separate mage divisions, might be planning.” 

“I'm afraid your imaginations will have to be let wild,” Ambessa replied, her tone flat. Yet, buried underneath was an edge of anger as her gaze darted to Mel for a brief second. 

“That's unfortunate,” Silco continued, unbothered. “I had hoped that it would be related to our newest military technology.” 

Ambessa's eyes narrowed a fraction, “The ‘laser’ guns are quite impressive. Law outdid himself there. It's a shame that he's not here -- I would have much to discuss with him about his creations.” A little barb to remain on the offensive in the verbal duel. It was well known to the Council that Ambessa was attempting to headhunt Law, as well as his company Vought. 

That was part of why Cassandra had engaged her daughter and heir to him -- to keep him bound to Piltover so he didn't make good on his apparent threat to jump ship to Noxus. 

It was something that Silco had considered more frequently as well. Law was far more powerful and influential than anyone on the Council was entirely comfortable with, except for perhaps Heimerdinger, who had complete faith in his student. In the span of but a year he had maneuvered himself to be a pillar of both Piltover and Zaun -- they needed him for weapons, they needed him for power, and if he defected to Noxus… that would spell the end of their independence.

The rest of the Council thought about ways to bind him to the city -- marriage, connections, influence. But, silently, in the shadows, most of them considered… alternatives. 

Removal.

They needed his tech, and Law had gone to great lengths to safeguard the secret of how fusion technology worked and how to create the laser guns. However, he and others had embedded spies within his company, and it was only a matter of time before the secret got out. Jinx already had those secrets and was working on her own projects, leaving him free to commandeer weapons production. After the current disaster passed, whatever the outcome of it might be, the Council was questioning if they were comfortable with the amount of leverage that Law would have over them. 

The answer, almost resoundingly, was no. None of them liked the idea of it, but few would be willing to act. Silco was among that number, though for very different reasons -- that Compound V substance that Singed had brought to his attention, the potential of it… all the power of a mage contained in a vial… 

For now, Silco decided that he needed Law, but once he got his hands on Compound V… There was only so much room at the top. Something Law would be keenly aware of as well. Perhaps Law was already plotting his assassination as the meeting dragged on, or maybe he intended to merely force Silco into a subordinate position. Silco didn’t know, but it didn’t make much of a difference in the end. 

He hadn’t climbed from the depths of the mines, choking and gasping on the Gray, merely to become number two. He hadn’t spilled oceans of blood, piled bodies high enough that they could blot out the sun and crossed every single moral line conceivable just so he could bow his head to anyone. 

Not to Law. And not to Noxus. 

“I’m sure,” Silco replied, a small teasing note entering his voice that Ambessa picked up on. “Yet, I didn’t speak of the laser guns. A novelty, I’m sure. Powerful, certainly. But I meant something… newer. One of his more recent works and… hm. I suppose seeing would be believing, wouldn’t it?” With that, he slid his gaze to Heimerdinger, who watched the interaction carefully but was content to let Silco spearhead the conversation.

He perked up and offered an enthusiastic nod, “Most certainly! I scarcely believed it until I saw it myself!” He said with a tad too much enthusiasm, eager to show off one of his students’ creations as much as he was to intimidate a foreign power into not invading their city. Ambessa’s expression twitched, swallowing a scowl that she quickly smoothed away. 

She knew where this was heading, even as she was left reeling at the revelation that Law had created another notable weapon to be used in their defense. Given that his laser guns were already a significant leap in weaponry-- capable of burning through armor plating and turning people to piles of ash… Silco could see her mind racing even as she plastered on a smile that was a bit like a snarl, “I would be honored to witness such a… spectacle.” 

So she could plot on how to leverage it. How to steal it. Ambessa was a woman who craved power and expressed her own through domination -- physically, economically, and even sexually based on what he had heard from the male prostitutes she had sampled. 

They didn't have to go far, simply stepping out onto the balcony of the building that overlooked a courtyard. Ambessa narrowed her eyes at the targets that had been erected during their brief meeting, looming over the railing as she waited for the show to begin. Only for the sound of an airship to give away that she was looking in the wrong direction. 

The Icarus, as Law had named the airship, was a smaller variety, being about half the traditional length of an airship, making it only three hundred feet long from bow to stern. The blimp was encased in metal, while it was directed with a line of thrusters in the back that spat out a focused flame. Beneath the blimp was the deck of the ship, and between the thrusters were gun emplacements. A dozen on each side, each one having four multi-cylinder barrels. 

“Isn't it a wonder?” Heimerdinger said, practically vibrating next to Ambessa. “He synthesized a lightweight metal that he's taken to calling plasteel, which is then heat treated and made nonconductive! The gun emplacements-” he started to push, only for the show to begin in earnest. 

Blood red lasers began to pour from the ship, each of the guns firing all four barrels at once, with each barrel firing out three beams a second that all struck the target. Making it twelve lasers a second from each gun, and a hundred and forty-four for each side. Every gun was operated independently, focusing fire on individual targets before a mortar was dropped from the ship. When it hit the ground, scarlet multi-faceted beams erupted from it, slicing five targets into pieces. 

Law had outdone himself. Silco felt no shame in admitting that. Laser guns alone were incredibly dangerous, but to use them like this was taking a long step forward. Fire, ice, lightning -- those were the traditional elements a warmage used in battle, which would mean little to the thick armor of the Icarus. Noxus had a number of methods to control the skies as well, but the airship was designed to deal with them as much as it was to slaughter infantry below. 

A truly unique weapon of war. A weapon of slaughter. 

“Impressive,” Ambessa allowed herself. Her tone was decidedly flat, and Silco had to swallow a smile as he puffed at his cigar. “Most impressive. Though I do wonder what you intend to accomplish with such a weapon?” She asked, probing them carefully. This was a warning, that much was clear, but she wanted to know what kind -- were they telling her that they intended to use these weapons on Noxus? Or something else?

“To sell them,” Silco answered, speaking for the Council. The words had a variety of reactions -- tightenings of features, expressions of shame and disappointment. They’d all discussed their options and they had all come to this conclusion, though some resisted it more than others. Arms dealing was shameful, apparently. It was petty sentimentality, but it was something that they were willing to swallow in the name of survival. 

Ambessa’s attention snapped to him, “Sell them?” She questioned sharply, her eyes narrowing at his cutting smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“Why else would we put on such a little display?” He asked, smoke curling from his lips. “As of this moment, we have five Icarus-class airships produced, but in the months that it’ll take for those Noxian armies that are so desperately needed in Ionia, we will have produced another twenty.” Ambessa might look like a muscle-bound oaf, but she was no fool. She heard the threat that lurked in his words so clearly that he might as well have been shouting at the top of his lungs.

“I imagine that they would be quite expensive,” Ambessa noted, her gaze once more turning to the airship. No doubt that she thought he was exaggerating. And she would be right -- in the month and a half they had until Noxus arrived, they could build at most five more. But, that was with their current production, which Law intended to dramatically ramp up. Though even then they would only have close to fifteen completed, with ten more in the middle stages of production by his estimation. 

“I would imagine so,” Silco agreed. This was the test. Ambessa was ambitious, all Noxian warlords were. They had to be, by the nature of their empire. However, did that ambition outweigh her loyalty? Did she look up at the gunship and wonder what she could do with it? Did she think that with them, with Piltover, she could seize the throne of Noxus? Did she imagine what twenty-five ships could do to an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men, supported by her own warriors armed with laser weapons?

Ambition was a curse that could never truly be satiated, but it was a question of whether she could control it. 

While that was an angle to exploit in these negotiations, it was not the point of them. Ambessa and her house would not be enough to turn the tide against Noxus, even if they did convince her to betray her homeland. No, this was just a gambit. A shadow on the wall made to look intimidating, with them hoping that they didn’t see the warmed-over corpse that projected that shadow. 

“But, I suppose a discount can be arranged,” Silco continued, taking another lazy drag of his cigar. “Noxus so clearly intends to use the Hexgate to transport their armies to Ionia. It seems… gratuitous to make them pay full price for these warships when they will be paying already exorbitant prices for  priority transfer.” 

“Otherwise,” Silco continued, pursing his lips and meeting Ambessa’s flat glare. “It would be… quite a shame if those reinforcing armies suffered misfortune along their journey. I hear that the armies in Ionia need all the help they can get.”

It was a threat, plain and simple. It was impossible for Piltover to hold out against such an army. Even if they had the full twenty-five ships he had threatened, even if they had a hundred. They just didn’t have the raw numbers or the experience that an empire that glorified war did. This was the best that they could realistically hope to do -- scare Noxus away, not with victory but with the promise of mutual defeat. To threaten them with inflicting as much damage as they possibly could as they lost the war, and bleeding the reinforcing armies of every man they could in the process.

Those reinforcements were needed in Ionia; that much was true. They were getting ravaged there, and it was humiliating to Darkwill. To get ravaged again with a separate army against a single city? Even if that army made it to Ionia, Darkwill wouldn’t be long for the throne and he knew it. 

However, it would be a gambit that wouldn’t work. Not for long, at least. Darkwill would have boasted of the conquest to his nobility and generals, promising glory and spoils. To roll back on that and to meekly pay a toll? He wouldn’t survive that either. Instead, what he would hope to do was change his approach. Slow his encroaching armies until he defanged them of their threats -- stealing the designs, kidnapping Law, and all matters of assassination and espionage. 

Meaning that month and a half might become two months. Or three. Time that was immensely valuable to them as it allowed them to prepare and develop and dig in. 

Ambessa didn’t respond with words, simply meeting his gaze and offering the barest inclination of her head as she conceded the point. The argument. From here, things could go a number of ways, all the more so if Noxus was successful with their espionage -- killing Law or convincing him to join them, getting their hands on Hextech, furthering the city’s instability with a well-timed assassination… 

“Oh my!” Heimerdinger started, interrupting his train of thought as he continued to look up at the airship, “Hoverboards? Fascinating! I didn't know this was part of the demonstration!” The Yordle continued, making Silco's eyes snap to the airship to see a team of six jumping out of the airship, his brow furrowing with unwelcome surprise. Then realization struck him with almost physical force -- Firelights. The masks, the hoverboards… There wasn't a doubt in his mind who they were.

“We're under attack!” Silco shouted, backing up as one of the Firelights dived straight for them. There wasn't a thread of doubt that they were here for him, but the rest of the Councilors wouldn't know enough to make that assumption. Ambessa certainly didn't as she snarled while one of her guards stepped forward -- Rictus, if Silco remembered correctly. A heavily built man wielding a spear that he leveled at the incoming woman. 

There was a familiar hum in the air as she approached, dive bombing the balcony to arrive first. 

“I don't give a fuck about you!” The pink haired woman roared from behind a mask, rearing back with a fist and Silco realized where the hum was coming from. The woman's arms were clad in heavy armor, rounding out with shoulder pauldrons -- and embedded in each of them was a Hexgem that crackled with arcane energy, which flowed down the armor towards her fists. “Get out of my… fucking… way!” She shouted, lashing out with a fist and a wave of pure blue energy struck Rictus in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the wall as she landed. 

Silco didn't wait to see what happened next, as he had already turned on a heel to flee the balcony. An action that saved his life as he heard the shattering of stone and a furious roar in his wake. “Get back here, you coward!” 

He would hardly help his would be assassins, but his options were limited as he escaped the Council room and headed down the hall. The hoverboards would outpace him and they gave the Firelights an advantage outside of the building. Worse, however, was his own body. 

Already, he could feel his lungs screaming under the strain -- decades in the mines breathing fissure gases had scarred them. Normally it wasn't an issue, but when he was running for his life? They were a liability as he struggled to get a lung full of air while he left chaos in his wake. 

“Silco!” The woman roared from behind, entirely too close for comfort before a wall shattered as that same arcane force slammed into it as he rounded a corner. 

It was something of a bitter irony that he was so relieved to see Enforcers rushing down the same hall -- a full squadron of them emerging from the elevator lift. “Behind me!” He snapped at them, pushing through as the squadron towards the lift and not a second later, he heard the sound of screaming. 

Slamming a hand on the elevator button, he waited for the doors to open. Daring to steal a glance over his shoulder to witness the clash, his stomach plummeted as the Firelight tore through the Enforcers like they were barely there. She took a low boxer stance, her guard up as she waved through the mass of bodies, but every single punch she delivered struck with bone shattering force. More than that, the blows were delivered fast -- too fast for a normal human, but in line with what he would expect from someone enhanced with Shimmer. 

In a handful of seconds, she had cleared through half of the Enforcers with the other half reeling in the face of such extreme violence. Blood splattered over her white mask while her hood had fallen, revealing pink hair. The pit in his stomach grew until it was big enough for his heart to drop through it, but even then he wasted no time rushing into the lift and pressing the button for the ground floor. An animal snarl escaped the Firelight when the doors began to close, tearing through the remaining Enforcers with startling ease. 

However, just as she was winding back a fist, the doors closed. Even as he felt a rattle above him from the impact of her punch, Silco took a moment to catch his breath. 

“The girl,” Silco hissed between gulps of air. That stance, that control, that hair… it brought him back to but a few years ago, to the bridge between his greatest triumph and his greatest defeat. Of a pink-haired teenager felling gangster after gangster with her adopted father’s gauntlets. He hadn’t seen her face, but there wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind. 

He was going to murder Marcus for this. That fool had assured him that Violet was dead-

The elevator lift shuddered violently on the way down, and Silco looked to the ceiling just in time to see metallic claws tearing through the steel and peeling it back like a can. His heart leapt to his throat, and he lunged for the emergency release, only to find those same claws wrapped around his throat before he was slammed into the wall. What little breath he had in his lungs was cut off and the grip made sure that he couldn’t fill them. 

“Silco,” Violet growled, and it was a marvel how much hate could be put into a single word. 

“Violet,” he rasped back, and for his efforts, her grip tightened. With her free hand, however, she reached up and ripped the blood-stained animal mask off her face, revealing a snarl that was barely human. And, in that moment, he was struck by how much she looked like Felicia, her mother. His old friend and compatriot, one who had believed in Zaun like Vander used to.

Yet, even as she looked so much like one of his oldest friends -- a friend who had perished on the bridge during their failed rebellion… a hand went to a hidden knife tucked into his belt. 

“Powder. What did you do to my sister?!” She howled like a madwoman, and that was good. Tunnel vision could save him. He just needed her to get a bit closer, and he could jab the knife into her throat -- she’d still probably kill him, but making her lose would be enough for him. He just needed to do it before he passed out from oxygen deprivation.

“I…” Silco rasped, hoping that she would be smart enough to lessen her grip so he could speak. So he could breathe, but his failure to answer seemed only to enrage her. The pressure on his neck grew until it felt like his head was about to come off, and now he truly couldn’t speak even if he wanted to.

“ANSWER ME!” Violet roared at him, pulling him closer so she could slam him into the wall again. And that was it, his chance. 

With a yank, he pulled the knife free and lunged for her throat, but he hadn’t accounted for her free hand catching him by the forearm. Distantly, he felt the bones in his arm get crushed by the pressure of her grip before she twisted her wrist, spraying his blood over the doors of the elevator. The knife clattered to the ground from his hand, which felt like it no longer belonged to him. He couldn’t even gasp, simply staring at his ruined arm while dark spots danced in his vision. 

“Pathetic. I’ll find her myself. This… this is for Vander,” Violet snarled at him, letting go of his ruined arm to punch him in the chest with crushing force. He felt his ribs give way, along with his heart as she punched a hole straight through him. 

He couldn’t think. His head felt like it was full of a haze, and no plan came to him to escape. To live. It didn’t feel real even as Violet ripped her fist back, covering herself in a spray of blood and leaving him to crumple helplessly at her feet. His vision was fading fast, his life slipping between his fingers… 

The very last thing that he heard was the elevator dinging as they arrived at the final floor, followed by a soft,  familiar voice laced with horror and disbelief. 

“...Vi?”