Nowhere

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to 'League of Legends'. This is written solely for entertainment, not profit. Please don't sue me, Rito.

Rated MA: for sexy angst and angsty sex.

The story depicts an intimate relationship between a jungler and an adc - Vi and Caitlyn if that needs clarifying. I apologise to any supports who feel threatened by this.

This is femlash/yuri. If that isn't your cup of tea, I advise you to stop reading.

***

Nowhere

Vi emerged from the cell, her gauntlets covered in blood. With her pretty pink hair and devilish grin, she was more like a drawing on a satchel than a real person. Caitlyn imagined a glum teenage boy in eyeliner sketching murderous schoolgirls. What subculture had all the frills, candy and skull-jewellery? "Alternative"? "Goth"? "Emo"? She had no idea.

Vi swaggered, arms out, owning the space. The peons duly scattered. 'Got an address, Cait. Perp's going down.'

Caitlyn nodded her approval. She would recognise the positive before playing killjoy. 'The witness?'

'He'll live.'

'Don't avoid the question.'

Vi swallowed a bark of rage. An accusation of cowardice, when she was the one with blood on her hands? That totally wrecked her vibe. 'What do you want from me? Yeah, I bust some limbs and some teeth. Get a doctor if you want a real answer.'

Caitlyn refused to give Vi the pleasure of eye contact. 'Two paces, Vi.' A ground rule, if Caitlyn had to stamp her foot, she would not let Vi enjoy the argument.

Vi blew out her cheeks and retreated with slow, theatrical steps, as if to persuade their audience of Caitlyn's pettiness. 'Huh.'

Caitlyn was unperturbed. 'I'll see to his welfare. Get the bike. We're ending this.'

***

They released the witness in a terrible state. The local doctor was on vacation for a week, determined to recoup his loss after an unpaid thirty-hour stint dealing with Jinx and Vi's collateral damage. His junior partner was in hospital after suggesting that the authorities placate Jinx by trussing up Vi, naked and covered in motor oil.

The witness worked as a courier. He could not drive with two broken thumbs, a smashed kneecap and head trauma. It served him right for hiding a brother that murdered drunk women. Caitlyn had seen enough twisted, old-world morality within her caste. She was grateful to come from fairly liberal stock who allowed their little girl to roam the streets with an oversized rifle.

Vi needlessly revved the engine of their bike, filling the garage with smoke. Caitlyn wondered why she let Vi modify the handlebars to fit those absurd gauntlets. The official reason was that Caitlyn would have her hands free to shoot from the back. The unofficial reason was that Vi really wanted to drive and made her case by "accidentally" heaving Caitlyn's breasts at every turn, stoplight and pothole. Whenever Caitlyn tried to confront Vi, the latter would feign ignorance and joke about Caitlyn's dirty mind.

'Come on, cowgirl.' Vi yelled over the noise. 'I'm getting itchy.'

Caitlyn strutted near the bike and pushed out her hip as if waiting for a better offer. 'Really? When was the last time you bathed?'

'I'm waiting for you to scrub my back with your enormous rack.'

'If you're game, the riot squad need a dummy for water cannon training.'