"Thank you. Please inform Mrs. Kiramman that my employer, Ren, will be calling on her this afternoon as scheduled. Good day."
Twisted Fate bid the butler farewell and departed from the Kiramman estate.
His task complete, he pulled the property deed from his coat, checked it over one last time, and tucked it away securely before heading back to their base in Zaun. The building he'd been eyeing was now his. The next step was to find someone to design and renovate it.
The casino wasn't for making money. On the surface, it was simply a means to establish an identity for Twisted Fate in Piltover. In secret, it would serve as a headquarters for him and his future network of informants.
Ren's focus had never been on a venture like this; a casino was not a long-term solution. The pillars of a nation—industry and manufacturing—were their real concerns. Besides, gambling was a truly vile thing. It had destroyed countless lives. Once a person was hooked, they were as good as finished.
I need to start picking out agents soon, Twisted Fate thought, his pace quickening. I'll see if there's any promising talent among those kids in the Bluebird Gang when I get back.
The thought of poaching from Graves's new recruits brought a smirk to his lips that he couldn't seem to suppress.
==========
The largest building among the former assets of the Black Hand Gang was temporarily established as the Bluebird Gang's headquarters and named the "Bluebird Roost." From now on, key members would live here.
Inside the Roost, Jinx was tinkering with weapons, the raw materials a collection of scrap that could be found anywhere in Zaun. Isha watched her, and it had to be said, the little girl was incredibly bright. She could figure out how to handle and operate any of the strange contraptions Jinx built.
They were using scrap not because Ren wouldn't pay for better materials, but because the two of them had discussed it. They needed a supply of proper weapons made from quality components, but they also needed a line of uniquely "Zaunite" weapons made from junk.
The scrap-heap environment of Zaun wasn't going to change overnight. If you couldn't change your environment, you had to adapt to it.
The weapons Jinx was currently building were bizarre in appearance. Some packed a decent punch, others were less powerful, but the main point was to systematically create a series of templates. In the future, any gang members with a knack for invention could use these templates to get started.
On a patch of open ground not far from the building, Graves and Arthur, along with a dozen or so tough-looking men of varying heights, were training the young recruits. The men were Arthur's old crew, most of whom had once worked for Vander. They had just met with Ren and were now official members of the Bluebird Gang.
Was Fizz training with them? Well, according to him, he was just "making new friends."
While Jinx worked on her weapons, she would occasionally tease little Isha. Every so often, her gaze would drift to the doorway where Ren was meditating. She'd bite at her pink-painted thumbnail, her expression turning dark and troubled, only to snap back to her zany, frenetic self to play with Isha a moment later.
Jinx's condition had been improving over the past two days, but she was back in this state because of the Hextech research.
Shortly after they had returned from the House of Hope and Ren had met with the men Arthur brought back, Jinx and Isha had secluded themselves to study the Hextech notes. They started with the techniques for cutting and fabricating raw magic crystals into Hex-gems.
The initial research didn't go well, which was normal. No research project ever proceeded without a hitch.
But this was Jinx. She had secretly taken out the magic crystal Ren had shown her to use in her experiments. The first attempt failed, ending in a blast of blue light that knocked them both to the floor.
Neither of them was hurt, but Jinx was on the verge of a complete breakdown. It reminded her of Vander. Of Claggor. Of Mylo. Of... Vi.
The phantoms of her past reappeared, their whispers tormenting her. The worst part was that back then, she had only wanted to help, but her mistake had led to...
She had always believed it was her fault, a result of her own weakness. But now she was older, stronger. She could even help solve problems that stumped Silco. Yet here she was, failing again, unable to figure out the Hex-gems—the one technology Ren considered so important. She felt weak, small, just like she had as a child, unable to help with anything.
Is Ren going to leave me, too? The thought was enough to make her shatter.
Fortunately, the quick-witted Isha didn't panic. She ran to find Ren, who managed to temporarily stabilize Jinx.
Ren knew that simple comfort wouldn't work. In the show, Silco had taken her to the river and had her "kill" Powder to be reborn as Jinx, "solving" the problem. But Ren refused to do that.
So, until he could think of a better way, Ren put a halt to all Hextech research. He instead steered her toward designing "Zaun-style" weapons, hoping to redirect her focus and buy himself some time.
It was at this moment that Twisted Fate returned.
==========
Caitlyn sat on the floor, an enforcer's badge in one hand and a revolver in the other, contemplating the clues and photographs spread out before her.
A knock sounded at the door. "Hey, you okay?" Jayce asked, letting himself in.
"I've found a breakthrough in the case," Caitlyn said, rising to greet him. Dressed in casual clothes, her bare arms revealed something surprising. You'd never guess from seeing her in her slender uniform, but she had finely toned muscles.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" Jayce asked.
"How can I rest when I have a lead?" she replied, pulling him over to the floor covered in clues.
Following the theft of the Hextech research, the patrol officers had all been disciplined with a fine of half a month's wages. Sheriff Marcus, however, acting on a hint from Councillor Kiramman, had singled Caitlyn out for special treatment: a mandatory leave of absence. She was to be suspended until the "heat" died down.
Frustrated, Caitlyn had returned home.
Now, standing on a small stool, she laid out her theory for Jayce. She had long suspected that a single mastermind was behind the violent crime in the undercity. On the morning of Progress Day, a burned-out smuggling ship was discovered at the sky-docks near the Hex-gates. That same evening, the Hextech lab was robbed. It was too much to be a coincidence.
Caitlyn believed the two events were connected. If she could find the person behind the theft, she could follow the thread right to the mastermind.
"The answer is right here. I'm so close," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "I can feel it."
Jayce asked, "And how do you plan to prove this theory?"
Caitlyn's shoulders slumped. "Once I figure it out, Marcus will have to listen to me."
"If there's one thing I've learned from the Council," Jayce said gently, "it's that theories don't persuade them."
"Since when do you care what that lot thinks?"
"Since I became one of them," Jayce said with a slight bow. "A councillor."
"Hmph." Caitlyn, who thought he was joking, saw the serious look on his face and accepted the unbelievable news with a jolt of surprise.
Even more shocking was the news that her mother, for some unfathomable reason, planned to have her dismissed from the Enforcers. Jayce's visit was to offer her a security position with House Talis, a position he had secured for her.
"I don't need your charity," Caitlyn snapped. "Don't you, or my parents, pull this nonsense with me, Councillor!"
"Caitlyn—"
"Get out."
Jayce was promptly kicked out of the room.
Distraught, Caitlyn's eyes fell on a map at the edge of her web of clues. 'Stillwater Prison' was circled. She remembered Marcus saying that the lone survivor found on the smuggling ship had been locked up there.
——————
Meanwhile, downstairs, Mrs. Kiramman was receiving Ren.
"I've already spoken with Lyles. You may go see him whenever you are ready," she said, setting aside the gift ledger he had presented.
"Your generosity is as warming as the sun. Thank you, Mrs. Kiramman."
Her first impression of Ren was excellent. He was young, energetic, and had a clear talent for navigating social situations. She hadn't expected the young man to arrive with his tribute so promptly. She had assumed he was here to discuss his business plan in detail, to build rapport and ask for her help. The moment he had mentioned opening a casino during their first meeting, she had already decided to support him. The gift ledger wasn't strictly necessary, but she was in no hurry.
Of course, Ren couldn't have delayed forever without making a gesture. There were rules to these things.
As for helping him beforehand, Mrs. Kiramman wasn't worried about him reneging on their deal. Did he think that once the casino was open, he was safe? She could allow it to open, and she could just as easily have it shut down.
"Mrs. Kiramman, I have another idea, if you would be so kind as to advise me on it?"
"Oh? Let's hear it."
Ren explained that, as a newcomer to Piltover, he hoped the Kiramman family might provide someone to help manage the establishment, or perhaps contribute a small amount of capital as an investment. In return, he would give the Kiramman family thirty percent of the monthly profits as a dividend. Another ten percent would be donated to the Enforcers in the Kiramman family's name, to be used for the maintenance and updating of their equipment, facilities, and armaments.
Mrs. Kiramman found herself increasingly impressed with the young man. She accepted his proposal, but with a few minor adjustments.
First, she would not send anyone to help manage the casino. Ren could use his own people; she had no desire to interfere.
Second, the donation to the Enforcers would be made in the joint names of the Kiramman family and Ren. She would not take sole credit.
And finally, if he ran into any trouble with the business that he couldn't solve on his own, he was not to panic and seek help from just anyone. He should come to her first. Sometimes, a second perspective on a problem could reveal a better solution.
With business concluded, the two fell into a pleasant conversation. Mrs. Kiramman was intrigued by his past as a "pirate merchant" and asked him to share some interesting stories.
Ren tensed. How does she know? And in such a short time? What else has she found out?
He quickly realized that she hadn't investigated him. She didn't know he was an actual pirate; she had simply assumed from the context that he was a "pirate merchant"—a high-risk profession involving trade with Bilgewater.
Ren relaxed. It made sense. The gifts he had presented were mostly specialties from Bilgewater, and his people, like Twisted Fate, used Gold Krakens and Silver Serpents for their expenses. It was only natural for her to make that connection.
Drawing from his past experiences, Ren proceeded to weave a few exciting, fabricated tales for her.
After finishing his stories, Ren picked up two chests from the floor beside him. He opened them to reveal even more precious gifts. One contained a small collection of antique jewelry and ornaments, along with a larger selection of unique artifacts from the Buhru Isles.
The other contained the parts of a rifle. "I heard your husband is an avid hunter. This rifle may not compare to one from Piltover, but it has many stories. It would make for a fine collector's piece."
He then invented a few thrilling stories for the gun on the spot.
"Thank you for your kindness, Ren, but I cannot accept these," she said gently. "Your sincerity is already more than enough. Few young men these days are like you. You needn't worry about a thing; the casino will be fine." She paused, her eyes kind. "If you are in some kind of trouble now, you need only say so. You might find that once a problem is spoken aloud, it is not as difficult as it seems."
Seeing his chance, Ren spoke directly. "Then I must impose on your kindness, ma'am. The situation is this: a member of my family was locked away in Stillwater Prison when she was just a child."
"So many years have passed, and I wish to bring her home. Is there any way you might be able to help?"
Mrs. Kiramman's expression turned serious. "Stillwater Prison? Piltover is a city of progress, and as a councillor, I must uphold and abide by the law." She looked at him intently. "What crime did this family member of yours commit? To be imprisoned in Stillwater as a child, and for so many years... it sounds like no small matter."
"To be honest, I don't know," Ren replied, meeting her questioning gaze without flinching. "I find it strange myself. A child, with no criminal record, no case file, locked away in a prison."
"No case file?"
Before Mrs. Kiramman could speak, Jayce, who had just come down the stairs, voiced the question. "My apologies, ma'am, I didn't realize you had a guest. I just came from Caitlyn's room."
"It's quite all right, Jayce. In fact, let me introduce you." Mrs. Kiramman made the introductions. Jayce learned that this was the employer of Twisted Fate and Fizz, and Ren learned that Jayce had indeed become a councillor.
Up on the second-floor landing, a figure who had been about to sneak away froze at the mention of Stillwater Prison and ducked back into the shadows to listen.
After the situation was explained to Jayce, Mrs. Kiramman stated she would resolve the matter. If Ren was in a hurry, she would send someone to take him to Stillwater immediately. As long as the person in question truly had no criminal record or case file, they could be released on the spot. As for the enforcer who arrested and imprisoned a child, he would be investigated and dealt with accordingly.
"Then I would be very grateful," Ren said immediately. "I'd like to go now."
Jayce nodded in understanding. "After so many years... if it were me, I'd be in a hurry, too."
At that moment, Caitlyn came running down the stairs. "I'll take him!" she volunteered.
Knowing how frustrated Caitlyn was, Jayce helped persuade his patron. In front of everyone, and not wanting to embarrass her daughter, Mrs. Kiramman finally relented.
==========
Inside Stillwater Prison, the warden, faced with a direct order from Councillor Kiramman, readily agreed to the release. After all, the prisoner had no file. Not even any personal data.
At Ren's request, the warden produced a set of keys so Ren could open the cell himself. Caitlyn, however, interjected, saying she needed to see another prisoner—one who had likely just been brought in today.
Ren shot her a surprised look. Well, well. So that's why you were so eager to lead the way. You were just using me as a cover to take care of your own business. Nicely played.
In the end, Caitlyn didn't get her wish. The prisoner she wanted to see had been taken down by another inmate right after arriving. His jaw had been shattered.
There was, however, one piece of good news. The one who did the deed was the very person Ren was here to free.
With a hiss and a clatter of chains, the lift descended rapidly, stopping at the 40th sub-level.
Ren and Caitlyn stepped out and walked to the corresponding cell. Inside, they saw a "kid" with short red hair and a back and arms covered in tattoos, endlessly punching the wall.
Sensing their presence, she turned. Her face bore a tattoo of the Roman numerals 'VI'.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked, her voice a low rasp.