#sheriff marcus

[arcanegifs]

Arcane Gif Requests: @softbeebee ↳ "I told you to leave this alone."

[melmedarda]

MARCUS: First & Last Sighting

⸻ ARCANE Season 1

[incorrect-piltover-quotes]

Marcus: What in heaven's name were you thinking?

Caitlyn: Absolutely nothing, Sir.

[lanbers]

I created a backstory for Marcus.

[matchbet-allofthetime]

God, my favourite thing ever is that when he's younger, at the beginning of S1, Marcus is SUCHHH a brat!

He's this bratty guy who is also a spitfire, he likes talking back, and he always acts like he wants control.

He acts out of line because he knows he can get away with it, he brats and snips words and acts like an all-around ass, but it's bratty. It's so distinct.

But later, when he gets that control he thought he wanted, when he becomes sheriff and then starts dealing with Silco, he gets so exhausted so quickly.

He's rougher, gruffer, more steadfast and sharp in his mannerisms and words, but that brattiness is less than half what it was when he was younger.

In, what was it? Nine years? He went from this brash, loud-mouthed, fiery young adult who wanted control to a salt-n-pepper dilf who has all the power one could want— and yet, he only has that through Grayson dying, and Marcus himself dealing with Silco, pretending to keep the— relative— peace.

I love seeing the differences, because he both changes so damn much, and also doesn't change at all.

[arcane-hotties]

Has your hottest character been knocked out of the tournament?

You can still vote for them! To determine the final ranking of the hottest Arcane characters there will be a series of head-to-head polls for all the characters who lost in Round 1. Each of these polls will only last a day, I'm posting the schedule so that no one misses voting for their favourite:

[jup1tersparx]

(doodling hearts around a characters name) this piece of shit goes directly against all my morals and represents the type of person i hate the most <3

[bullet-prooflove]

3500 Follower Celebration: Last Square!

ONE SQUARE REMAINING!

Does anyone want to grab it for maybe a subby boi?

Firstly a massive thank you to everyone who has taken the time to follow me, it means everything to me that you enjoy my work!

Secondly let's celebrate with a little bingo!

The Rules:

One Bingo Square per Character

One Bingo Square/Char per ask

When a character is assigned I will add them to the bingo card so you can see it.

If a Char/Square isn't working for me, the Square will be reset.

As usual check the pinned post on my blog to see who I'm writing for. I've added a few newbies recently.

Any questions just ask!

[thedailycounternews]

ARREST IN STRING OF BURGLARIES

Sheriff Leon Lott announces the arrest of two brothers and another man responsible for a string of burglaries. Investigators arrested 20-year-old Nicholas Frye (DOB: 05/05/03) on Feb. 20, 2024, his 19-year-old brother, Marcus Frye (DOB: 09/12/04) and 21-year-old Austin Harmon (DOB: 08/21/02) on Feb. 23, 2024 in connection with 20 burglaries and stolen trailer incidents. All of the incidents…

[arcanegifs]

Arcane Gif Requests: @gaeldricge ↳ "We had a deal, Vander. You keep your people off my streets, and I stay out of your business. Give me a name. We'll do things quiet. No one will know you were involved."

+bonus:

[melmedarda]

⸻ MARCUS, Arcane | ep 1

[incorrect-piltover-quotes]

Marcus: I hate when people show me pictures of their kids. Like, we get it. He's missing. Move on.

[zaunseye]

npc ʟɪsᴛ

These characters are used for scenes in which their narrative presence is needed. They are not fully fledged muses, and are only available for short-form 1v1 threads or in scenes accompanying Silco. Detailed headcanons for some may be present.

sɪɴɢᴇᴅ

tag :: 𓁿 the doctor is in ;; singed ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: yes icons :: sometimes

Long time ally of Silco, Singed is also known as 'The Mad Chemist' for his radical techniques and lacking ethics. He works for Silco as both a chemist and a doctor, preforming medical procedures as well as concocting potent drugs like shimmer. Silco trusts him, but is suspicious of his side projects.

sᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

tag :: 𓁿 the ogre lieutenant :: sevika ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: yes icons :: sometimes

The chem baron's most trusted workers, Sevika is the lieutenant of the underground movement. She does jobs for Silco that require muscle and command, usually leading smuggling operations and protection rackets. Silco greatly trusts her, viewing her as a worthy successor to Vander in her role by his side.

ᴅᴜsᴛɪɴ

tag :: 𓁿 sweet spit :: dustin ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: no icons :: no

One of Silco's inner circle, Dustin has been a member of Silco's gang since he was a child. He's mostly mute, speaking only in simple phrases and grunts, but he's excellent with a knife, and Silco gives him assassination and tracking work. Silco might not be a fan of his antics, but he still trusts Dustin with his life.

ᴍᴀʀᴄᴜs

tag :: 𓁿 sheriff of the eye :: marcus ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: no icons :: no

The sheriff in Silco's pocket, Marcus is tuck in too deep for his own good. He's been covering for Silco's crimes for nearly a decade, and despite his reservations, will do whatever it takes to keep their business on the down-low. Silco knows he has the sheriff by the short hairs, and has no qualms about using that to his advantage.

ᴛʜɪᴇʀᴀᴍ

tag :: 𓁿 chuck the barkeep ;; thieram ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: yes icons :: sometimes

Thieram has been with Silco's gang since his youth, originally working as an armed thug. However, due to an injury sustained in the cannery, he was taken off the front lines. When it was discovered that he could mix a mean cocktail, Silco put him behind the bar, instead. He worries and frets over his boss, always there to offer a drink.

ғɪɴɴ

tag :: 𓁿 fangs of zaun ;; finn ic 𓁿 available for asks/headcanons :: yes icons :: sometimes

The second most powerful Chem Baron under Silco, himself, Finn suffers no disrespect and ruthlessly pursues profits and power above loyalty. He is often described as "Zaun's Fangs", holding the majority of the guns as well as the poisons. He and Silco have a contentious relationship, with Silco seeing him as an insult to his father's legacy.

[wrinkledtulip]

SMUT!! Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader

Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem! Reader

18+ Smut!! Fingering, praise, AFAB reader

It's my first time writing smut, or publishing on tumblr for that matter so pls be nice lol <3 Also this is unedited.

Life as an enforcer was always gonna keep you on your toes.

Whether it be chasing drunkards on the streets of Piltover, patrolling the overly large council grounds, or the occasional graveyard shift if the sheriff was cruel enough. 

But what you found most challenging of course, was learning to handle weaponry, at least the ones that weren’t your first choice.

For a strange yet defended reason, all enforcers were required in training to use a rifle, a standard gun. And so, had led to countless hours in the training facilities aiming for wooden targets. 

Technically, you could handle one. Yet your aim was not incredibly precise.

Ever since that Kiramman girl joined, the handling of guns seemed to reach for higher standards. Apparently her family was renowned for their handling of the weaponry. 

You hit the target every time but the sheriff expected bullseyes in a row. 

Huffling in frustration you reloaded the barrel, shouldering your rifle as you aimed once more. 

But as you peered through the iron scope, a posh voice rang out behind you. 

“You’re not hitting the bullseye because you have a poor trigger pull”

Kiramman. 

“Haven’t you got a cocktail party to be at Kiramman?” you huffed, lowering your weapon as you looked back at her. 

The two of you shared a brief moment of a solid yet intimidating stare, her blue eyes bearing down on you. 

You both laughed. 

“You know me better than that” she chuckled, knowing your words were nothing but playful banter. Despite her status and the other enforcer’s distaste of her, you had grown to like the girl. Though she had a tough exterior she was sweet and playful. 

“Come to show me up then I presume?” You said, rolling your eyes as she stepped closer to which her words caused her eyes to roll. 

“You know how pathetic it is watching you stand here for hours aiming over and over, we’ll lose bullet stock because of you” she spoke, shaking her head. 

“Well I have to practise, Marcus has been up our asses since he’s seen your shooting skills… he’ll do anything to keep you from winning if it means dragging the rest of us along” You huffed, shouldering your rifle again as you turned back to the range. 

“Oh” she sighed “I didn’t realise I had placed a burden like that onto you.”

There it was again, that softness that sought for nothing but do good for people. 

“I enjoy the challenge” you answered, hoping your truth would console her as you aimed and fired again. Your body shook slightly with the recoil as the bullet was about half an inch off bullseye. 

Caitlyn chuckled, shuffling through her pockets as she stepped behind you, balancing a coin atop of your rifle.

“Don’t you remember what I said before? Try again” she said.

“I don’t want your money.”

“That’s not what it’s for. I said, "Try again.”

She stepped back as you sighed, keeping your rifle still as the coin balanced on its smooth top.

You aimed again and as you fired, the echoing sound of a coin clattering to the ground could be heard.

“Now what was-”

“You have a poor trigger pull.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You sighed, agitated by her unexplained actions.

“You should be able to fire without the coin falling, it means you move the gun as you pull the trigger and you can’t properly withstand its recoil” she explained, stepping back towards you as her hands reached out to your form.

“Your stance isn’t firm either. Open up your chest a little more and stand with your legs wider” she stated, her hands moving in correspondence with her words as she adjusted your shoulders and hips, her fingertips grazing your form.

“Try again.”

So you did, focusing as you aimed once more and fired. This time it was closer to the centre of the target, your body the stiller as the impact of the recoil began to subside. 

“Better. You just move the gun when you pull the trigger, learn to isolate your finger, you need more finger strength, I suggest working on that before you create a bullet shortage” she said with a small smirk, raising her eyebrows as she looked out to the target. 

“And how would I do that?” you huffed, lowering your weapon. 

“Just exercise it” she shrugged.

“And how would I do that?” you sighed, turning to her. In genuine curiosity you had no clue how to exercise it apart from just shooting, but that would waste bullets.

“I have my own ways of doing it.”

So that’s how you ended up in Kiramman’s bed, a withering mess as she showed you her own ‘special’ ways of literal fingering exercises. 

She had you bent over her lap, her legs crossed to raise your hips as her spare hand roaming over your backside as you moaned into her silk covers. The subtle echo of her fingers squelching in your hole could be heard.

"Not so tough are you now pretty girl?" she cooed, smirking down at you. By now you were bound to be leaking across her thigh as her fingers slipped in and out of your hole. Every time you inched closer to a release, she would just roam her fingers across your folds instead.

"Kiramman please.."

"My name is Caitlyn" she said, that dominant tone in her voice. The same tone she used to get you to lift up your own dress and pull your own panties down for her. God, it sent shivers down your spine.

"Caitlyn please-"

"You finish when I say you can finish" she commanded, her finger slipping back inside you, eliciting a long whine as you gripped at her bedsheets. Her fingers curled to hit that sweet spot inside you, sending electricity through your body as she only smirked at your needy whines. It was clear you were desperate for release; her fingers were soaked as a small stain began to appear on the fabric of her thigh as you leaked in need of proper release.

"I thought this was a finger exercise-" you whined out.

"It is, for me at least, you just get to enjoy the benefits of it" she said in that sweet little smartass voice of hers as her fingers curled up inside you again, causing another loud moan to slip from your throat.

"fuck, just let me cum" you whined, your thighs trembling in anticipation as your body begged for that high, evident in the pleasurable sounds that escaped your lips.

"Ask me properly and I just might" She said, continuing to slip her fingers in and out of you.

"Caitlyn please... please let me cum" you begged quietly, gripping at the bedsheets as you could barely keep it together anymore. She leaned in, whispering in your ear as she smirked, her fingers speeding up.

"That's a good girl" she cooed. You moaned needily.

Her fingers moved quickly inside you, sliding in to continuously press up against that sweet spot. Your thighs began to clench around her hand yet she persisted as you whined and moaned. You felt that knot in your stomach begin to build as your increased volume made it evidence, however Caitlyn showed no intention of stopping or slowing down anytime soon. Just what you wanted. Every moment felt like ecstasy as she pulled you to your high, shuddering and moaning as she felt you come undone upon her fingertips. She rode out your high, continuing to milk you of your essence until you settled to a whimpering pant, feeling her fingers slowly slip out of you.

You glanced back to see her tongue swirl around her own fingertips, your sticky consequences being lapped up by her tongue as a dirty smirk rested upon her face.

"Those aren't even your trigger fingers-"

"So? Is there a problem darling?"

"No."

"Good girl."

[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 1

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 4.5k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Takes up at the end of episode 7.

Read on ao3 ⎜ Next chapter

It is not the first time your unit has been called to assist at the borders, although it’s been years since topside ordered a complete blockade.

The panic had been evident on the councillors faces during the meeting that preceded your affectation. They fear the escalation of violence after the bombing in the city center as well as the murder of several enforcers earlier this week. There have even been rumours of an organised rebellion rising from the undercity, ready to strike multiple strategic places in Piltover. But those are just that, rumours. You have heard other rumours. Apparently, whoever killed those enforcers also decided to drop by the safe holds of the Council and steal something. The authorities have been suspiciously secretive about the ordeal, but you have a feeling it has to do with hextech. And the Council, usually quick to shy away from firm countermeasures, has made the decision to take a stand a little too rashly for your taste. This, plus the sudden removal of Heimerdinger’s seat at the table… No, there is something else at stake here, something bigger and perhaps more preoccupying than they are letting on.

And so here you are, on the south east bridge, among dozens of other enforcers. They don’t seem too aware or concerned about the actual reason for their presence, but they certainly appear to enjoy roughing up a couple Zaunites just for the thrill of it. Within the span of two days, you have already sent eight of your officers home. Young hot shots, mostly here to see some action and prove themselves in front of their comrades. People who shouldn’t be in the force to begin with, but the enforcers’ body always has and will continue to accept just about anybody within their ranks. It was a cesspool of violent and morally lacking folks long before you arrived and will remain exactly that for years to come. 

The majority of the officers mobilised for the Council’s big display of power aren’t trained to handle riots anyway, that much is obvious, and the entire situation is bound to turn to shit eventually. Regardless, you have traded your rifle for a good old baton, and encouraged your men to do the same. The firearm is tightly secured at your back— you’re lenient, not stupid—but the rioters have been fairly docile since the first barricades were installed, armed with nothing more than cardboard signs and harmless smoke bombs. Hardly a challenge at all, not to mention, you would like to avoid needless mayhem if you can help it. Your superior, Warren, strongly disagrees. Well, superior in name only; the man barely has any field experience, hardly ever steps out of the comfort of Piltover; a textbook office rat. If you had to guess, you would say this is the first time he’s actually come face to face with Zaunites. He has never hidden his utter repulsion for the latter— he usually refers to them as trenchers— and this new assignment is a godsend. He would drown them all in the gutter if he had his way. Halas, the Sheriff’s position was swept right from under his nose by Marcus, equally hateful and ambitious at the time. The years have tamed him for sure, although you still find it hard to explain his complete one-eighty when it comes to dealing with the undercity. Once, he was determined to give them hell, back when he was just a rookie, always babbling on about how he would handle the "Zaunite problem", and offering solutions (if you can call them that) that would have met quite the success among the most monstrous tyrants. 

When his impromptu promotion was announced, you had expected him to take full advantage of his new position and act on his threats. In fact, you had expected something very much like the events unfolding before you right now: blockades, raids, random inspections, an obnoxious display of strength—the whole circus. But instead, most of the troops had retreated completely from Zaun, leaving the undercity in a situation reminiscent of when Vander was in charge. The streets had been left completely unmonitored, allowing numerous gangs to rise and breed terror in the underground. Any sense of community ceased to exist in the blink of an eye, quickly replaced with defiance, greed and violence. Funny thing, that it took one man, one figure to hold a whole city together. Take him out of the equation, and an entire city is lost. And then came Shimmer, the final step that made all hell break loose. 

You had often wondered whether a complete occupation would have made a difference. In a way, you had your answer now. It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. The economy down there was frozen, leaving the poorest Zaunites in even worse conditions than before, if that was possible. Controlled chaos, that’s all this is. And the Council is probably looking at the current state of things and congratulating themselves on their good work. It has become routine lately, but once more you wonder what it is you’re doing here exactly.

In the cacophony you hear your name being called from the crowd and recognise a familiar face. Without a second thought, you strut towards the noisy crowd.

"I wouldn’t get too close if I were you." Warren says from behind you, eyeing the mob suspiciously. You offer him a snarky grin.

"What’s the matter, Warren, afraid of a couple sticks and stones?" You relish in the laughter that emanates from the group of enforcers surrounding him before Warren silences them with a death glare, his face red with both anger and embarrassment. When he turns back, probably to reprimand you, you’re already on the other side of the bridge. 

You walk past the last line of enforcers, the big ones, hidden behind their goggles and masks. Not necessarily the best intermediary for parlay or negotiations. You come face to face with an elder man, a fisherman’s hat screwed low on his head, just above his tired blue eyes. He hunches over the barricade towards you.

"How long is this gonna last? They just suspended all exportation of goods. We’re suffocating down here." He shouts, hands gesticulating in the air, but you can barely hear him over the racket.

"I know that, but my hands are tied here, Lou." You say apologetically. 

The economies of the upper and undercity are very much interdependent, even if that is mostly true one way more than the other, of course. Numerous Zaunites work on the other side of the stream, some fortunate and gifted kids have the opportunity to study in the University district. And while it is true that Piltovians prefer to rely on their own supplies and food, they import daily from the undercity, whether it be fish, brews, or local foodstuffs. 

Contrary to popular belief, it is not rare for topsiders to stoop to undercity level, although it is usually for more illicit activities. Shimmer consumption, human trafficking, money laundering, you name it. Needless to say that the blockade doesn’t impact topside nearly as much as it does Zaun. It makes no difference to Piltovians if it lasts for weeks, months, or possibly even years. But the undercity’s days would soon become numbered if the situation doesn’t evolve. 

A huge detonation is heard on the far side of the bridge and leaves your ears whistling for a few seconds. When you come to, there is a thick cloud of smoke rising from the same spot, but you can still make out the enforcers’ silhouettes as they charge into the protesters. Idiots. You barely have the time to turn back to Lou when another loud boom erupts. Then another. It’s really on now. You grab at the old man’s shoulder, a grave look on your face. 

"Go home, Lou. Now!" He doesn’t need to be told twice, still, you follow him with your eyes until he disappears from view. You realise only too late the tear gas canisters that have been thrown all around you. You reach for your mask but the gas is already stinging your nose and  assaulting your senses, it feels like your entire face is burning. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you struggle to pull out your goggles. The gas has settled in your eyes now, and the  eyewear obviously won’t change that, but you can’t think clearly at the moment and put them on regardless as you start to pull back to your squad. In the distance, you can hear Warren shouting hysterically, asking for more gas, more pressure on the line, always more. He calls to you once you are back in the safe perimeter.

"Sticks and stones, huh?" He taunts you, and you can clearly imagine his stupid face mocking you behind the mask. 

"All of this for a bit of smoke?!" You refrain from calling him a dumbass in front of everyone else, although just barely, but you don’t even try to hide the anger and exasperation in your voice. He can launch disciplinary actions if he likes, this whole operation is already a complete disaster, and he will suffer the consequences too. You throw a quick look at the mess happening all around you. Utter panic among the protesters, untrained enforcers, and an incompetent chief. And people will wonder what could possibly have gone wrong. You sigh. On second thought, let Warren drag you in front of the Council if he wishes, you will have a lot of things to say.

You blink the last of the gas from your eyes and gather your thoughts. So the protests have gone up a notch after all, that much is true. But you remain convinced that the blockade is bad news for everyone. You grab the megaphone and clear your irritated throat as best as you can while your colleagues prepare to launch another charge. This will not be a quiet night after all.

Two hours, that’s all the time you get before you are unexpectedly called back for duty. You gulp down a can of hot soup, hop into a fresh blue uniform, and you’re out the door. For the first time, you are stationed on the main bridge, where you’ve heard things tend to be more heated. It is a last minute change, and very little information is given to you about your purpose here tonight, but it must be important if the Sheriff’s presence is any indication. Typically, back-up is hardly ever needed at night fall, most of the protesters leave at around 7 p.m. and come back at midday. So it is without surprise that you find the bridge perfectly calm and silent, with a large group of enforcers standing by. They seem to be waiting for something, or someone. You rapidly go over some procedures with your squad and dispatch them at key locations around the area before finding Marcus. 

"So, what’s this all about, Sheriff?" You truly loathe to call him that, but the man likes having his ego stroked every now and then. Might as well play the good cop card in order to squeeze what you can out of him. You’re met with a suspicious and frankly condescending look. Whatever information it is you’re asking for, it would seem it is above your pay grade.

"We’re meeting someone. Your team is here to make sure it all goes smoothly."

Not much to go with, but the gears are already spinning in your head. Could it be that the person responsible for the attacks and the break-in in Piltover had requested a face to face in order to calm things down; seeing as the situation had escalated today. A request for parlay, perhaps, or a negotiation. You lower your tone as your address Marcus again.

"This whole thing," you gesture at the barricades on the bridge, "it’s about Hextech, isn’t it.?" His eyes grow wide, and the way he freezes all but confirms your suspicions. For all his ability to play the Council like a fiddle, the man had always had always been terrible at concealing his emotions. 

"How’d you figure that out?" He asks seriously. You snort.

"A raid in the Council’s stronghold? Let’s just say I seriously doubt that whoever broke in came for Heimerdinger’s book collection." You say sarcastically.

Suddenly, the spotlights come to life, and a masked enforcer joins the two of you.

"They’re here, sir." Marcus nods and turns to you.

"Get behind the second line, and stay there unless ordered otherwise." You are about to protest but he is already moving forward with a small squad. The audacity, to call you here during your off-hours only to have you hang back and away from the main event. Regardless, you start to back up slowly, keeping attentive eyes fixed before you. In the distance, two figures emerge from the evening mist, progressing towards the roadblock. The enforcers take aim and start walking too, meeting them in the middle with Marcus flanking them. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he seems awfully relaxed despite the nagging tension in the air. 

You end up much further away than you would like, but orders are orders. You squint painfully in order to catch whatever you can from the exchange. The two silhouettes are clearer now, thanks to the powerful lights; a young boy and a woman, unarmed and without backup, at least none that you can see from your position. Your eyes focus on the boy, on his outfit more specifically, and it takes you about a second to connect the dots. The mask dangling from his hip, the bandana tied around his neck, the big flying board strapped to his back. A Firelight. And not just any member of the controversial gang, this one is none other than the leader, Ekko. And next to him is— no, that makes no sense—Kiramman? You blink a few times. Surely your sleep-depraved mind is playing tricks on you. But it is her, Caitlyn Kiramman, daughter of senior councillor Cassandra Kiramman, and a very promising enforcer who suddenly went rogue not even a week ago, or so the Sheriff insisted. 

An enforcer and a Firelight, quite the odd pairing indeed, especially since the latter have recently been designated as the prime suspects of the recent attacks that shook Piltover at the core. Even though as far as you are concerned, the accusation makes no sense. You have yet to see the so-called irrefutable evidence that has been found against them, evidence which has never been officially presented, but led to the blockade of the entire city regardless. 

It had always been your belief that the Enforcement body put too much effort in fighting the Firelights. The only trouble they cause is against the Eye of Zaun’s production of Shimmer, which topside should be grateful for; if anything, the Firelights are doing most of the work for them. True, they had attacked a shipment over the city not that long ago, but it was clear that Piltover was not their target. It is something you have been thinking about for a while now, this obsession with the Firelights, when crime and Shimmer are the true plagues and spreading like never before.

From the distance you see Marcus ordering his men to stand back as he moves forward to meet with Kiramman and Ekko. No matter how many times you turn the problem over in your head, you can’t make head or tail out of this alliance. Although you have a feeling this little night encounter will clarify a few points. The young boy pulls some sort of protective cylinder from behind him, although he seems reluctant to show what hides inside. He opens it eventually, leading Marcus to inch closer in order to inspect the goods. There’s a pause, the party gauges each other out in apparent uncomfortable silence. Whatever the Firelight boy revealed has definitely caught the Sheriff’s interest, although not enough to conclude a bargain it would seem. Marcus just stands there motionless, as if weighing his options. Kiramman is talking to him now, you can only assume she is pushing for some sort of deal, an exchange perhaps, intel for intel. Money? Surely Marcus wouldn’t… You suddenly stop all speculation and watch in complete shock as he pulls out his pistol and fires a single shot, square in the boy’s stomach. The latter collapses, forcefully projected backwards with the power of the point blank shot. 

Silence reigns on the bridge, save for a few crows cawing and flying away, the rest suspended in time, waiting. What the hell. 

Marcus is now aiming at a discomfited Caitlyn, a rare sight, and his men have started to move forward, getting in formation around the woman. They exchange words, but Marcus does most of the talking as Caitlyn looks too petrified to speak. Orders be damned, you leave the line of enforcers who are currently staring incredulously at each other, as shocked as you are. There’s a figure running towards the meeting point, it appears to be a woman, but you can barely make her out through the fog. What you can clearly see, however, is the swarm of small green lights flying at a rapid pace alongside her. Firelights. Hundreds of them, merging to the same location as if they had been summoned there. Then, the cloud of insects lingers above Marcus, Caitlyn and the group of enforcers before descending upon them. A small number reach past the center of the bridge, to you, and you reflexively bat them away. You’ve never liked insects, not from this close anyway, and certainly not in great numbers. Some enforcers hold out their gloved hands to allow the firelights to land, seemingly amused by the situation. Admittedly, it’s quite a pleasant distraction from what usually happens up there— or doesn’t happen. 

A tiny clicking sound emanates from all the bugs at once, like a detonation, and next thing you know, you are violently projected against the bridge’s bannister.

For the next minute or two, the only sound you hear is a numbing and constant whistling in your eardrum. You feel a hot liquid running slowly down the side of your temple, and your head is pounding like a jackhammer. Around you, bodies of enforcers lie limp on the ground in puddles of thick blood. You have seen your share of gruesome and violence, but can’t help the nausea that overtakes you as you scrawl through a sea of freshly detached limbs, the smell of copper filling your lungs. You reach an enforcer, one of the few still conscious. He is moaning in pain, mumbling incoherently as he holds up his arms, both severed at the wrist and forearm. Moans turn to screams as the realisation sinks in, you wonder if he knows his right leg is missing too.

As your hearing gradually comes back, you realise there is something going on at the centre of the bridge, where the explosions did the most damage. Gathering your strength and balance, you rise to your feet and progress towards it. More fighting it would seem. A shot rings in the air and lodges itself in a stone pillar just a couple feet away from you. You march on, unphased, a trembling hand hovering above your holster. You recognise the Firelight leader, who seems to have been untouched by the explosions, and facing him… Those long blue braids, that slender figure. Jinx. And the bombs all make sense now. There’s only one person in this city who would be capable of manufacturing such a weapon, and nobody makes anything go boom like Jinx does, all Enforcers learn that the hard way.

The two teens throw themselves at each other with a speed that makes the fight difficult to follow. Ekko quickly takes the upper hand, pinning the girl down with all his might. One, two, three hard punches square in the face, most people would have been knocked out cold by now, but Jinx struggles as best she can, until her body has nothing left to give. Ekko hovers over her, fist in the air, ready to strike one final blow to her blood-smeared face. But his hand hangs in the air, suspended in time, petrified. 

Your heart sinks at the disturbing spectacle unfolding before you. What leads two children to fight to the death and show such a level of animosity? You don’t have time to answer that question as another large detonation erupts at the exact place where Ekko and Jinx were fighting. 

The boy is the first to emerge, and it appears that the weapon got him good this time. He limps towards you and collapses in your arms. But the second he acknowledges your uniform, he starts struggling weakly against you, moaning in pain against your shoulder. The cries, however, have nothing to do with the physical pain. The stir from utter distress and despair. You don’t insist, and let him go gently, supporting him all the way. 

"You should go." You say as you hear the cavalry starting to make progress from the other side of the bridge. Took them long enough. Ekko, although his head is still pounding, manages a frown.

"Why?" 

"Your work is far from done, kid. Now get going." Your tone is firm enough to get the message across, but warm enough to convey that you care at least a little bit, and Ekko simply nods, peers at you one last time in mild confusion, before limping away through the fog.

A couple feet away, Jinx lies unmoving on the ground, and you pray that she isn’t dead as you approach and crouch beside her. Who knows what King of the underground would do if his protégé was to be taken away from him. The question is what would be obliterated first, Zaun or Piltover. Either way, there would be only ashes left on both sides. You let a sigh of relief escape as you feel a light pulse against the girl’s wrist. However, she needs medical attention, sooner rather than later. Her injuries look severe even to your untrained eyes and she has lost a lot of blood. As you let her arm down, her fingers relax, and a glowing round object rolls from her grasp. You do a double-take as you gape at it. It can’t be. The gemstone. The source of so many turmoils this past month just inches away from you, so shiny and out of place among the debris, as if daring you to take it. 

"Are you alright? Where’s the Sheriff?" You were so taken by the object that you completely missed the hurried footsteps behind you. As quickly and discreetly as possible, you shove the gemstone inside a compartment of your utility belt and turn to face the small group of enforcers gathered at the scene, Warren among them. A sigh of relief escapes you as there’s no trace of the Firelight leader. He had slipped away just in time.

"He did not make it." You say, rising to your feet. The men in uniform exchange incredulous looks. "Help me with the body." They must have missed the urgency in your tone because they remain unmoving, their eyes still taking in the bloodbath. "Come on, Teebo, put those big arms of yours to use." 

"She’s right, boys," Warren jumps in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We’ve been after her for weeks, and now we finally got somethin’ to show for. The Council will be pleased." He stands proudly, hands on his hips as two enforcers work to lift Jinx’s inert body of the ground. "Let’s see how the son of a bitch can manage without his prized pupil—" the sentence dies in his throat and he freezes, shoulders stiffening. He might as well have seen a ghost. "Speaking of the devil."

You've never actually met the Eye of Zaun. You've seen the murals of course, heard the stories, and encountered his goons more times than you can count. But most of all, you've witnessed the damage and destruction he’s caused in the undercity over the past few years— shimmer, gang violence, oppression of the chembarons, child labour. Now, he may not be directly responsible for that last one, but the man has hardly done anything to stop it. It's rampant. Spreading like a disease with no cure in sight. You are all too familiar with it.

As you stand a couple paces away from Silco himself, you finally understand the fear and dread he inspires in both zaunites and pilties alike. His entrance feels almost theatrical and dramatic in the mist. It is just him and two large henchmen…against dozens of armed enforcers. There's no chance, no world in which a fight would go his way. And yet, there isn’t a trace of doubt in his one good eye. He's ready to pounce, to fight to the death like a raging animal to retrieve the girl with blue hair. No one has ever looked at you this way before—with such pure, unfiltered hatred. And you’ve just met the guy.

You take one tentative step forward, but that’s as far as you. Silco’s gaze freezes you in place, and whatever you were about to say gets stuck in your throat.

"Let’s grab him too" Warren urges right from behind you, restless. 

"Those aren’t our orders," you say absently, your attention fixed on the one-eyed man.

"Are you kidding me? We could hit two big fucking birds with one stone. Right here! This could be huge for us."

"Don’t push your luck, Warren. We’ve got the girl. That’s the best bargaining chip we could hope for." That seems to get the point across, and Warren backs down.

"Get her back to the truck. This is a good day, gentlemen, a very good day!" He triumphs as he retreats with the rest of the squad. 

Silco takes a step forward, fists clenched at his side. One of his men grips Jinx’s makeshift mini-gun, finger on the trigger, odds be damned. You advance as well, hanging your rifle on your shoulder, hoping so erase any sign of hostility. If a gunfight was to break out now, Zaun would have to find itself a new leader, and the blue-haired girl would no doubt be caught in the crossfire. Silco, despite his anger and desire to kill everyone in sight to get to Jinx, seems to understand that. His shoulders relax, slowly lowering, and he motions for his men to step back. He remains firmly planted there, challenging you with a look—silent, but deadly. Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you can hear it in your head. As you watch Silco disappear into the fog, just as he had emerged, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve just signed your own death warrant.

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3

[specialagentartemis]

I like digging into the worldbuilding implications of settings where some people have surnames and some people don’t (or at least don’t seem to). And Piltover and Zaun (as portrayed in Arcane at least) present one of the classic applications of it.

We see only a limited number of people who are given surnames—Caitlyn Kiramman, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda. Cecil Heimerdinger. Probably Sheriff Grayson and several of the councilmembers. And then the characters that don’t—Vi, Powder, Ekko, Viktor, Silco, Vander, Sevika. A pattern emerges.

Especially as early on it’s made clear that Jayce belongs to House Talis, a family of skilled toolmakers and craftspeople, it seems like surnames mean you belong to a House, a lineage, an established and recognized family organization of hereditary power, position, or trades. You have something worth inheriting, something worth keeping in the family, something recognized. Belonging to a House may not necessarily mean you’re somebody important, but it means you’re somebody.

And it seems to be mostly a Piltovan thing. (Though not all residents of Piltover seem to belong to a House—Sherriff Marcus is never given a surname—but all the characters with surnames do seem to be from Piltover.) in Zaun, Vi and Jinx hardly have anything respectable to inherit. Viktor has no family members with social clout to call on, Ekko has no recognized lineage to trace. They don’t have surnames. They don’t need them.

In situations with a city like Zaun with lots of people with no surnames, though, you tend to need to clarify who you are and who you’re talking about anyway, and you frequently see matro/patronymic names become established—X son of Y, A daughter of Z. It’s not really a last name and doesn’t function like one, it’s more like a clarifier. Or a claim to who you are. (The image of Vi introducing herself as Violet Vandersdaughter gave me an attack of emotions. Okay, continue.) In the boiling-over tension between Zaun and Piltover, I can especially imagine it being a point of spiteful pride for Zaunites. Who your parents are, where you came from. Yeah, I’m Ekko Innasson, and you can’t make me be anything else.

(Jinx is no longer Powder Vandersdaughter, though. She’s just Jinx. Everyone knows who she is. She doesn’t need anything else.)

Which makes the apparent surname Grayson, for a woman who is Piltover’s Sheriff, interesting this context. It suggests to me that Sheriff Grayson is from a new House, that House Grayson was elevated and established only a generation or two ago. A matro/patronym became an inherited surname. And Sheriff Marcus is desperately trying to handle this shit to try to prove himself and to get his family established and elevated into a House as well for his daughter to be part of this class.