Outlaw

Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she leapt. The air rushed by her ears. The wall came up to meet her, and she landed in a roll, flipping over and catching the pole that stood up from the black pool like a bone. She grinned. "Y'all getting this?"

“Just get on with it, Slink." The annoyed voice on the other end crackled in her earphone. Slink laughed. She pushed off, catching the next pole, grimy and covered with grease. She spun around it like a top, then let go, launching toward the next light pole. Her feet hit it, and instinctively she bent her knees and jumped, grabbing the last pole. Her feet found purchase where no one else could, and she practically walked up the grease-covered pole, swinging lightly onto the roof of the generator house. "Be sure to get plenty of this."

Her voice was a mere breath as she spoke into the mike clipped to her collar. No reply from the other side. Slink grinned and flexed her fingers, pulling her little invention from her pocket. This was her favorite part of missions.

Her fingers brushed the cool metal lovingly, focusing on the generator at the far end of the yard. “Don't miss.” Slink cursed inwardly. “Shut up, Slip. You'll make me miss.”

She fired, watching the tiny blue bolt as it sailed through the air, too fast for any but a practiced eye. Which Slink was, of course. All the lights flashed on to full brightness for a second. She waited, eyes tightly closed, then opened her eyes again. The guards stumbled against the walls, blind in the sudden darkness. Aiming carefully, Slink pulled the trigger again. With a cry, the man fell backwards, a sudden swarm of mosquitoes surrounding him. With the same practiced aim, she shot the other two with her special bug bomb.

She'd designed it just for them, building off their bug phobias and the distraction the bugs would cause. As the guards staggered around, Slink slipped out and swiped an access card. Like a shadow, she floated to the door, and slipped inside. The rusty interior of the pipes greeted her with the familiar smell of filth. Slink grinned and shouldered her blaster, knowing it would do no good in such a small space. She sauntered over to the control panel, swiping the access card. The screen turned on, illuminating the small cavity with fluorescent light. A security box opened, with a keypad and four boxes. Slink sighed. “Cmon. Challenge me.”

She flipped open a panel on her blaster, exposing the two wires nestled inside. She snapped them onto the display, snapping her fingers. “All yours.”

She grinned sardonically, waiting for the imminent sarcastic reply. “Very impressive,” a voice that was definitely not Slip’s replied. Slink froze. The lights blinked on in her little cavity, and she cringed, covering hr eyes with her hands. She pulled her hood low over her face. “Slip, you there?” All that came through was static. Slink sighed, kicking through an air vent panel and throwing herself through without hesitation. Only when she was halfway back did she realize she'd left her blaster behind. She froze. A dog’s bark echoed through the metal pipes, and she heard sniffing. Too late. With regret, Slink ran away into the night. She'd have Slip hack the system later and claim it. Damn police.

They were doing a late-night inspection of her favorite bar. Slink cut a wide berth around, in time to see the bartender being shoved into the back of a police cruiser. She debated rushing the police holding him, but then thought better of it. Four against one wasn't good odds, especially with her luck recently. Anyways, Old Tom would probably get off with a light sentence for something like underage drinking or something. It wouldn't be the first time. She melted into the darkness, running up a wall and gliding from rooftop to rooftop. Her black hoodie rippled in the wind, but the cold didn't bother her. Never had. All around, the city was lit with disco lights and old street lamps, music from a hundred boom boxes mixing and filling the air. Smoke and exhaust hovered over the streets, reflecting the lights and cloaking the streets of Zaun in darkness. She hopped down, seeing a nightclub’s lights flashing, and flipped over the edge of the building she perched on.

The cracked asphalt cushioned her landing, and she pulled open the door and walked in. The floor was filled with dancing bodies, sweat and cigarette smoke filling the air, the bitter scent of alcohol drawing Slink closer. The barkeep grunted as she approached. “Trouble at Tim’s, they say.” Slink pressed two coins into the grease on the counter. “Words out they're looking for a kid about your description. Stole something.” He shrugged, pouring some liquor into a mug. Everyone stole. It was just a part of life. “Thanks. Dash will bring you your things tomorrow.” “He better.”

The barkeep harrumphed and turned around, pulling out a bottle of alcohol. He pressed it in front of her. “I can't. Don't have enough peso.” The barkeep pressed it into her hands. “I'm asking you a favor. Get rid of it for me.” At her reluctant expression, he added, “You know you can't refuse me.” Slink finally smirked and took it, tucking the bottle into her satchel. “See ya ‘round, then.”

She joined the throng of screaming, dancing bodies for a moment, keeping her head well covered, identity hidden. She reached the back door and slipped outside, running up the pipes, crossing the bridge they made over the river. The pipe bent and twisted, dented and crumpled in places, too dangerous for any to cross. Correction. Too dangerous for anyone but Slink to cross. She ran across a low pipe, leaping into the air and swinging across an electric cable, long since dead. The only electricity Piltover gave Zaun was used to power police vehicles and make the officers fat. “Show-off.” Slink smirked. “Jealous?” Queen crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “I don't give a shit about your silly playground tricks.” Slink executed a quick flip, grabbing an old board and skating down a thick pipe that had clearly seen some use. She saw the jealousy in Queen’s eyes and grinned, unable to resist a jibe. “What you looking at, then? Grab a board and try it. I'm sure you're the queen of rail-skating.” Queen looked at her with hate in his eyes as she flipped, landing neatly on another rail.

“Oh, I forgot. My bad. You can't skate.” Queen’s cheeks flushed with rage. “It's not my fault the gun misfired!” Slink smirked, but stopped teasing him, seeing King approaching. “My King.”

Slink bowed elegantly. King grinned. Her white-blond hair looked regal in the smoky darkness. “Don't push it, insect.” Slink saluted again. “Anything for you, your majesty.” This time King reached out and shoved her. Slink staggered backwards dramatically. “Ugh, stop your flirting.” Queen rolled his eyes. “I think I'm homophobic.” Slink shook her head. “Just how many phobias do you have?” Queen lashed out with a board by his hand. Slink didn't bother to defend herself, ducking and dodging each and every swipe, a shadow in the dark, chuckling. Queen grumbled and threw the plank at Slink in defeat. “It's just because you're so scrawny.” “Better scrawny then overweight.” Slink handed him his crutches. “Let’s go in.”

Queen hobbled forward on his crutches, as Slink and Queen followed behind. “My mission didn't go too well,” Slink explained softly. “They had extra security up, and in my exit, I left my gun.” “Oh no,” King gasped softly, squeezing Slink’s arm. “How'll you get it back?” “Don't know. I was thinking to ask for another mission to retrieve it, rob them of their fancy gadgets and toys, ya know. The hype.” “He's not in a good mood.” King’s blue eyes looked up into Slink’s pale grey ones. “He's really pissed off, threw a chair at Queen.” Slink ground her teeth. “I could try to talk some sense into him. Queen okay?” “He's fine. Jorge stood up to him, asked for dinner, but our generous leader threw rotten trash into his face and slammed the door.” Slink sighed. “I'll bring a taser.” Queen looked behind him. “I hope you're not talking about Dad.” Slink looked ready to respond, but King held her back, a question in her eyes. Slink held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

King squeezed her shoulder. “We'll talk later. Something new.” Slink nodded. Queen knocked on the door of the abandoned bunker they called home. It had housed a hundred troops, before the war. Before Zaun and Piltover split. Before the canal was filled with poison, and the police, affectionately called Piltie Pups, came to keep the law.

Queen bent to let the scanner probe his eye, elbows holding him up on his crutches. The light blinked once, and the door opened. Dash stood there, face pale. “Dad’s been waiting.” He turned to Slink. “He’s been wanting to talk to you.”

Slink frowned and handed her satchel to King. “ I'll be back.” King’s face was pale as she watched Slink following Dash. “We all still want you here,” Dash whispered, bug-like eyes darting back and forth like a scared animal’s. “I'll be fine, Dash.” Queen had found the kid curled up in a bed of trash, and refused to leave him/her there. No one knew Dash’s gender, except maybe Queen, who was like an older brother to the youngest gang member. Dash opened the silver door, nodding to Slink. Or maybe it was just fright.

“Hey, Dad.” “Slink.” Dad ‘s chair was turned away, toward a patchwork of screens. “You've caused quite a stir.” “You threw a chair at Queen.” Slink kept her voice calm and level. “You have a problem with that?” Slink waited.

“I know what you're going to say.” Dad turned around. He was maybe twenty, the oldest of all of them, except maybe Slink. She didn't know her exact age, and neither did anyone else. His black hair was dyed gray, his outfit immaculate. He looked angry. “You lost a weapon.” He said it like a death sentence. “You got a problem with that?” Their eyes locked for a moment. Then Slink looked away. She didn't want to challenge him. Not yet.

“I can go back and recover it, sir.” Slink kept her gaze trained on the floor, waiting for the answer. “No.” Dad spun around in his chair. “I'm not risking anyone to recover a damn gun.” Slink waited. He said nothing. She dropped the bomb. “I brought the Bad Boy. It was connected to our web. They'll track us here before tomorrow morning.” Dad spun around to face her, shocked. “You brought that? I told you not to!” “With respect, it's mine. Not yours.” She looked him in the eye. This time, she didn't look away.

“Fine. Fine!” Dad fumed. An old can hit the wall next to Slink. She gritted her teeth, but said nothing. “Team of four. No more.” Slink left without protest, leaving him to sulk alone. For a gang leader with the name ‘Dad’, he acted very immature.

The door to her room was open when she got there, and King sat on the bed, waiting. “Took you long enough.” As Slink walked in, she clicked the button, sending a layer of steel to cover the doorway, sealing them inside. “Team of four to get it back.” “You brought Bad Boy? Against orders?” Slink sighed, falling onto the bed and putting her hands to her temples. “Yeah. I know.” King sighed, looking down at her. “I'd spend an hour scolding you, but I suppose Dad already has.” Slink sighed. “Actually, he only threw a can.” King looked surprised. “Really?” Slink nodded, pulling off her hood and cloak.

Her shoulder-length white braid fell down against her back, a stark contrast against her leather jacket and jeans. She sighed, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her impossibly pale face stared languidly back at her, eyes pale, angles sharp. “You need to eat more,” King commented. Slink turned and rolled her eyes at her. “It’s not my fault. Aren’t you the one who snuck Queen dinner yesterday?” King folded her arms. “Hmm. The King brought the Queen some food. You guys could make a thing out of that.” “Just shut up.” King whacked her lightly on the arm. Slink fell over, clutching her heart. King couldn’t help a smirk. “So..”

Slink leapt up and caught a steel girder, hanging upside down from it and looking down at King. “What is it?” King pulled out a phone. While she wasn’t looking, Slink grinned. Phones were banned. Maybe King wasn’t so much of a rule-keeper as she seemed to be. “Look.” On the small screen, twenty or so officers dragged a protesting Old Tim into a cruiser. “When did you last see them?” The policeman’s voice was harsh. Slink could see his jaw working. “In this tavern, as anyone can tell you.” “When, you dog?” Another slapped him on the face. “None of your business, boys,” Old Tim replied, unflappable. “Why do you want it?” “They’re a thief. Stole a gun.” Old Tim laughed. “That all?” The police didn’t take well to his sense of humor. “Turn her in, and we’ll let you go.” Tim opened his mouth to respond, and the police grinned, waiting. A ball of brown spit landed on his face. He gagged, and threw Old Tim into the back of the cruiser, kicking him. “Don’t give him any food!” He yelled. “Make him talk!” He ranted on.

“I was there,” Slink whispered softly. “I didn’t help him. I just didn’t realize-“ “There’s more.” King swiped to the next video, showing a group of teens being rounded up by the officers. “Look, just tell us where you saw the thief last, and when.” The Piltie looked exasperated. “Gang, should I tell this overweight Piltie pup where we saw one of our own?” “No!” A hail of vegetables rained down on the officer as the teens took to the rooftop. Red-faced, and covered in rotten veggies, he pulled out his gun and took a shot at the retreating back of one of the teens. With a low moan, he fell to the ground, his blood mixing with the mud. With a chorus of boos, the teens left. “Thats all over.” Clip after clip played of Zaun citizens, refusing to comply with the questions. All ended in violence. “The Pilties are looking for you. There’s no doubt about it.”

Slink put her head in her hands and said nothing. King put away her phone. “No need to cry about it.” Slink looked up sharply, but saw that King had only been making an innocent jibe. She felt as bad about it all as herself. “I didn’t even try to help them.” Slink repeated. “But then again, why would I?” She straightened. “I’m a Zaunite. We aren’t really heroes. Just fighters.” Her words sounded empty, even to herself. King looked at her, eyes devoid of emotion. “I want to be a hero.” When Slink didn’t reply, she pressed. “They gave their lives for you. I’d go in there and rescue them right now, but I don’t have the manpower.” Slink frowned slightly. “I don’t have cowards for girlfriends.” King stood and left. Slink closed the door after her. I can’t do anything anyways. Better for them to serve their time than have a failed break-in and execution.

She leaned back on her bed, sighing as she pulled out a jerky stick and tore small strips off it with her teeth, savoring the flavor. Too soon, it was gone. Her stomach tumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat that day. She groaned, turning over and reaching for her satchel. She reached for the stale scone she’d swiped from a street vendor earlier. Her knuckles bumped against something hard and smooth, and she remembered the wine the nightclub keeper, Darrin, had given her. She’d saved his hide on several occasions, and in return, he managed to always save some of the best wine in town for her. He and Old Tim were like family to her. One a benevolent grandpa, the other an uncle who need bailing out every once in a while. Darrin was right. I do need this tonight.

Slink rolled over and slapped her palm against the wall, initiating the bunker’s original locker system. Her locker opened, revealing her stash of illegal weapons. Her pistol, Bad Boy, was gone now, but Big Brother would do just as good a job, even if he was heavier and harder to pass off as standard equipment. She flipped open the hatch, pulling out one of her precious crystals and dropping it inside. The blue light shone through her fingers, outshining even the old lightbulbs. She snapped the hatch shut again, enclosing the crystal in black steel. The room felt darker without it. Big Brother hummed to life, vibrating in her hands, filling her limbs with the feeling of power. She aimed at an imaginary target on the wall and fired. “Too heavy for stealth,” she decided. She retrieved the crystal and turned to her stash again. Guns wouldn’t help much on the venture. Finally, she lifted a metallic belt from the stash. She’d left it there after she nearly blew up the training gym. Now perhaps it was time to try it on again. She lifted it, nearly ready for it to explode in her hands. She handled it gingerly, strapping it around her waist. She stood up and pulled on her jacket again, letting her braid bounce against her back. She left her cloak hanging on the peg, and walked to the door. Then she turned, poured some of the wine into a flask, and strapped it to her side. Then she left. The smoke was heavy on the ground, mingling with the mist.Cool air seeped through her jacket, but Slink didn’t feel the least bit cold. The ground crunched under her leather boots, the smell of dried filth filling the air. “Going somewhere?”