The Grinding of the Gears Ch. 1

Author's Note: Hello readers, I know you're all probably thinking that I'm insane for starting yet another story. I promise though, I'm going to keep working on them, all of them, (except for Darkness' Embrace, that one's pretty much dead and gone). This marks the first time I've made a story that focuses on my self-insert OC, who has been mentioned very rarely, but does in fact exist in regards to the lore of ABAHF as well as the other stories. I'm not too happy with Riot right now. For those of you who may or may not know, they've decided to get rid of the concept of summoners and the Institute of War from their lore. But I say to hell with that. Amumu deserves more than a two sentence backstory, and I for one, am not going to change my fiction because they screw up their own work. That being said, I hope you all enjoy this story, I appreciate your support, and I hope that you continue to do so. Please be sure to leave a review, so long as it is polite I'll usually respond. It's also always helpful to get a favorite and a follow if you like. Thanks again, and best of luck in life and literature.

I sat in my office, finishing up the final touches of the most recent report down the grape vine. A new up and coming summoner had not only defeated a major summoner in the League, but he even managed to expose a huge plot of corruption from within. "Kiba!" A voice barked from the door, rotating in my chair I saw my head Editor standing in the doorway with arms crossed and his mustache furrowed in annoyance.

"Sir?" I asked respectfully.

"Are you anywhere close to having that piece done yet?" He asked impatiently. Turning back to the keyboard, I pressed a few keys and with a whir, it was printed from the computer. I grabbed the draft and offered it to him. Reading over it he scratched his chin intrigued. "A Boy and His Fox?" He raised an eyebrow towards me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I felt it was a great love story between Kal and Ahri. You know how they always talk about the love between a boy and his dog, I felt the title was rather catchy. You don't like it?" I asked.

"It's good son, but your titles seriously need work. I swear, if they aren't one of your stupid puns, they're some sort of lyrics to a classic rock song of some sort." He sighed softly before continuing. "Whatever, we'll run it first chance we get."

"That's great sir, but I'm not quite finished editing…"

"Never mind that! We're on a deadline, and you've got a new assignment." He placed a manila folder with a plop on to my desk, full of papers. "This is major stuff, Elunal. Don't go screwing this up. You're the best investigative reporter we have and this scoop is the motherload."

Picking up the file, I began to read through the pages curiously. The boss was always talking about how we'd hit the jackpot, but something about his tone indicated that this time it truly was important. My eyes fell upon a gruesome crime scene, a body eviscerated in ways that made it look as if it were done by some sort of sick demented beast. It lay in a giant pool of blood, and despite that it was a black and white image, it did little to mask the harshness of the situation. "A murder? Sir, if they're looking to solve it then perhaps the police would be…"

"Don't be a smart-ass Elunal, the suspect has already been apprehended. Take a second look. What do you see?"

Examining the image closer, I saw something that had caught the camera flash embedded in the victim's chest. I grabbed a magnifying glass, and putting it to my eye I gazed down before dropping the item from my hands. "That's…"

"A piece of clockwork. Sources say that the lathing etchings match the suspect's."

"You mean some sort of clockmaker did this to someone?"

The man shook his head. "Bigger than that Kiba. This was done by a Champion." I looked at him, no words needing to be spoken to indicate the graveness of that claim.

"That doesn't make any sense, surely the League wouldn't allow…"

"It confessed to the crime Elunal. Your job is to go and interview the champion within the Piltover Prison. Find out what happened, then write up a story. Think you can handle that?" He asked sternly, causing me to slowly close the folder.

"Yes sir. You can count on me." I replied, grabbing a journal and a pencil before tucking the folder under my arm. "I still have a few contacts in the prison; I'll get the story from it." Tugging on my coat, I headed out into the snow ready to begin my next case.

When I reached the large looming prison, my friend Saul came to the front and offered his hand. I shook it with a grin as he pat my on the shoulder. "Kiba, I was wondering when you would finally cash in that favor I owed you. Should have know I'd be hearing from you when we took it in for booking. Don't even know how we're supposed to incarcerate something like this. It's far from your normal situation." Saul once was under the light for a smear job from his vindictive ex-wife trying to pin him as an accomplice to one of the crimes of Jinx. Due to a bit of digging, his innocence was proven thanks to an article by yours truly, and he agreed to return the favor when he could.

"You're right about that Saul. I hope you don't mind my asking this. I wouldn't want you to risk your job." He shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Technically, it's entitled to visitations just like any other prisoner. My favor just involves allowing you all the extra time you need. Perhaps some visits of a more…conjugal nature?"

I looked at him skeptically. "It's a machine Saul." I commented shaking my head with a sigh. "Whatever, let's get this over with." He chuckled, opening the door to the prison and escorting me in. A guard pressed a button under the counter, buzzing the two of us in as he led me down the hallway flanked by cages. Piltover's worst yowled and goaded me as I walked through. Half of them would have been found innocent if not for the freelance work I occasionally performed for the Piltover Sherriff's department. Needless to say, I had very few friends inside of these thick walls.

"Now I know you've done this before, but as part of the deal I have to lay down ground rules." Saul began as I stepped up to the check point. I spread my arms as the guy began to pat down my coat. "You are not allowed to give or receive gifts from the prisoner, unless pre-approved by the guards. You may not take any sort of needles, knives, guns, weapons, or drugs (prescription or over-the-counter) with you into the room. The guards may leave you alone inside of the room at your request, but you will be monitored on a close circuited TV, though audio is not recorded. Knock twice on the door then wait for a guard to let you out. The two of you may not touch one another unless you are together inside of the conjugal visiting area, offer still standing." I shot him a glare as the guard stepped away, satisfied I was clean. He simply grinned before continuing. "The handcuffs do not come off of it, end of discussion. Both you or the prisoner are able to end the visit at any time, after which a guard will escort you out. You got all of that?"

"Don't fuck up. Got it."

"You really are a smart-ass." Saul laughed. "Any questions?"

"Just one. Is it dangerous?" I asked. Saul shook his head, opening the door and stepping inside with me.

"It's been a model prisoner thus far. Hasn't spoken a word since we brought it in. Isn't that right?" He asked to the prisoner.

Sitting across from the table, a graceful and lithe figure looked from him to me. Its eyes hummed, a dim light showing some sort of acknowledgement or both of our presence. Its face was smooth and pale, almost like an eerie doll that was both beautiful and terrifying. With a whir, it looked from him to me, then back to him again but said nothing. Around its waist was a mechanical skirt that slowly spun like a gear and turning to Saul I nodded to him. "Thank you Saul, that'll be all." I commented. He slipped out the door with a shrug, closing it behind him and leaving the two of us alone. "Good evening." I greeted politely.

"She." The voice was so soft spoken, for a moment I didn't even realize it had said something.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"He called me 'it'. That is not accurate. I am a 'she'." Her voice hummed, synching with the strangely elastic lips on her face that matched up perfectly with her words.

"You're a machine though…often people don't assign genders to objects."

"Boats and ships are she's; often automobiles and weapons have genders assigned to them too. Is that not correct?" She inquired, her eyes staring into mine unblinking.

I paused for a moment before nodding. "That's fair. I shall refer to you as a she from now on." Her expression didn't change, but the glow from her eyes indicated she was satisfied with my agreement. "You have a name I believe. It's Orianna, right?"

"That is correct."

"Do you know who I am Orianna?" Her eyes looked up towards the camera that was monitoring the two of us, as if contemplating whether or not she wanted to respond.

"Yes. Your name is Kiba Elunal. You are an investigative journalist for the Piltover branch of the Journals of Justice. You've aided the police many times in the solving of crimes, you've won a Valoran Peace Award for your coverage of the Noxus invasion of Ionia, and were nominated for another regarding corruption in the city of Bilgewater. You were officially declared the winner the second time, but you passed it to the runner up, because while investigating the Freljord, they lost their arm trying to break a young child from one of the Frost Queen's traps. You declared that such a sacrifice for the sake of saving a child should be rewarded, regardless of which article was better written." I had to admit, she had done her homework on me. I set the folder down and moved it to the side, a whir from the mechanized joints in her neck indicating she was watching me as I worked. Setting down the journal and laying the pencil beside it, I folded my hands and leaned forward.

"So you know who I am. Do you know why I am here?"

"I can only assume it has to do with me. Is that the case?" She asked, a tinge of curiosity in her words.

"That's right. I have a few questions I wanted to ask you. You don't have to share if you don't like, and if things ever get stressful we're more than able to take a break if you want." She blinked her large shining eyes, a gesture that was unnecessary given her physiology, but one instilled by her creator for whatever sake.

"You surprise me." She finally announced.

I looked at her confused. "Funny, I would not expect you to be capable of feeling surprise. Not to offend, but you are a machine, female or otherwise."

"And yet you were concerned that the questions you asked would induce stress upon me. That is why I say you surprise me. Most in this place do not treat me the same way you do." She looked back towards the camera again. "Most see me as one would see a computer or a car. An object, unimportant unless able to be utilized."

"How do you know that I don't see you that way?" I asked.

"Your eyes do not say so."

"Right…so, I suppose the first question is one you would expect…what exactly happened that night?" I asked.

"Which night?" She inquired.

At first I thought she was just jerking me around. "The night of the murder." I reiterated calmly.

"What murder?"

"Orianna. Do you know why you are even in here?" I asked. She slowly shook her head. "And you didn't think to ask the officers once about why they had you arrested?"

"I was told by my creator that I was not to question the law enforcement officials." She explained. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"Orianna…if you aren't guilty of anything why did you confess to a murder that you didn't commit?"

"They showed me a video of me committing the murder." She explained softly. Her voice had a sad melody to it, almost like a somber piano piece.

"Is it possible someone was trying to frame you I asked?" As soon as I asked the question I kicked myself. Of course she'd say she was framed, that's what all criminals claimed after they'd been caught. I'd let my guard down because of how calm she'd been thus far.

"No." She stated. I looked at her confused. "It was me. I could tell by the serial etching upon my proxess."

"I'm sorry?" I asked. She stood, at least she stood as far as she could to gesture to the rotating skirt around her waist.

"My proximity adjustment dress emulator." She explained, "My proxess. It serves to ensure that I do not make the mistake of invading one's personal space. Should I come too close willingly the dress tightens and then sends a pain signal to my central processing unit."

"That sounds unnecessarily harmful."

She shook her head. "It was to help me make friends when I joined the League. It hasn't helped much, but it has prevented the other champions from disliking me at the least."

"I see." I began to jot the information down for future reference before looking back to her. "You mentioned a serial etching? What is that?"

"My proxess was custom made by a machine in my creator's shop. Due to the nature of the casting, each one has slight imperfections that serve as something akin to a fingerprint for you. The etchings were identical to mine, so it must have been me."

"Then why can't you…?"

"Mr. Elunal, the truth is I have no recollection of the murder or any other events of the night in question. Once every week I enter hibernation to recharge my energy cells. That week, when I awoke out of hibernation, the police had broken down the door and were arresting me."

I scribbled down "No Recollection" before underlining it and placing a question mark beside it. It was something I'd definitely have to visit at a later time. "Tell me about your fellow Champions in the guild. Was there anyone there who would wish to see you incarcerated or placed in jail?"

She paused for a moment, considering the question before shaking her head. "I'm sorry Mr. Elunal, I cannot identify anyone who would be responsible for this act other than myself."

"Do you have any friends who can testify for your location that night?" I asked.

A sad silence settled in the room around us, and for a moment I realized that my question could be painful. "I do not have any friends." She finally replied.

"No friends." I muttered as I wrote it down before frowning. "None at all?" I asked curiously. She seemed to bite her lip as if pondering her next words carefully. I watched her fingers fidget nervously on the table before she spoke up again.

"Would you be my friend, Mr. Elunal?" She asked finally, an unexpected hint of anxiety present in her question.

"Well, I…" I began, my eyes looking into hers and seeing the light dim slightly in them as she looked down at the table. This was wrong, I was a journalist. I wasn't supposed to be friends with the people I was investigating, but I could feel this machine…this woman…reaching out for me in silent desperation. "I'd gladly be your friend Orianna." I finally surrendered, causing her eyes to light back up. "And please, you can just call me Kiba."

"Very well, Kiba." She replied, testing the way the name fit on her tongue. She smiled, an alien and foreign smile that was almost unnerving if not that it looked much nicer on her face than the normal emotionless expression she wore.

"Listen Orianna, this is a very serious thing that has happened. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Do you know what will happen if you are found guilty of this?"She shook her head. The fact that she now had a friend had made her fall silent, as if one word could cause her to lose the precious treasure she'd just acquired. I sighed, I hated having to tell her this, but she needed to know. "Orianna, if you're found guilty for this, you will most likely be killed. Or deactivated, or however you wish to put it. That's the worst. At the best, you'll be stripped of your Champion status and removed from the League."

"No!" She protested quickly, standing up so suddenly, the chair beneath her flew backward and the handcuffs that had her strapped to the table shattered. She looked down at her wrist in surprise as Saul burst in to the room, hand at his waist but I quickly stood and held up my hands gesturing that we were okay.

"It's okay Saul, she's just a little spooked is all. I promise we're fine here." Saul nodded closing the door behind him as he left again. I turned back to Orianna who was now looking at her wrists, her eyes melancholic.

"I don't want to stop being a Champion." She whimpered. "What am I going to do?" She looked up at me, and if I hadn't known better I'd have thought she was about to cry.

"Nothing." I replied softly. She looked up at me, unsure of what to say. "Because I'm going to help you." I whispered. What the hell was wrong with me? I was offering to help someone who admitted herself that she had committed the crime, even if she couldn't remember it. But at the same time, this was my gut instinct speaking. I knew something was off about this whole thing, and I couldn't just ignore it.

"You will help me?" She repeated.

"Yes. I'm going to find a way to prove that you're innocent."

"But the serial etchings…"

"I don't care." I snapped. "You can't remember even committing the murder. You don't even know what happened that night, or anything. It's all emptiness, and I'm not going to sit by and let you lose your dream or worse because of it."

She stood up quietly, and walked towards me. I wasn't sure what to do at first, part of me considered signaling for help from Saul. Without a word she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly, a wince of pain running through her. "Thank you." She whispered before letting go of me and returning to right the chair so she could sit in it, her hands in her lap complacently.

Looking at my watch, I knew the interview was almost over. I looked through the file before finding a picture of the victim and sliding it across the table to her I opened up my journal, a new fire of determination burning inside of me. "Alright Orianna, our time is almost up. Do you recognize the man in that picture? Do you have any idea of who he is?"

She shook her head. "No. But I've seen him before."

"Where?" I asked, scribbling down notes quickly.

"My dreams." She slid the picture back to me. "To be more accurate, my nightmares. I see him, just before I feel like my processors are on fire. Then I awaken."

"How often do you have this nightmare?" I asked.

Her next words chilled me to my bone. "Every time I hibernate."

I opened my mouth to ask another question but Saul came in and interrupted me. "Time's up Kiba. You can come visit it tomorrow if you have more questions." I nodded, standing up and shutting my journal. Tucking it and the picture in the folder, I stood pushing back in the chair.

"She." I corrected Saul, "and I'll be happy to see her tomorrow." I turned back to see the sad expression on her face still there. "Goodbye Orianna, don't worry, I don't intend on giving up any time soon."

"Goodbye." She replied sadly, the door closing behind me as Saul ushered me out.

"Saul…"

"Yes?"

"I have one more favor to ask of you."

"Look man, about that conjugal thing…I was just…"

"No not that. I need to see your files on the case."

His brow furrowed. "Kiba, that's a heavy request even for you. What is all of this about?"

I sighed, looking back through the widow to see her sitting at the table, staring down at it. "Something's wrong with this situation Saul. I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel it. Something is wrong with this case and I intend to find out what it is."

Saul sighed as he thought about the request. "I'll see what information I can dig up okay? But this is your last favor. If I do this, we're even."

"Deal."

"And Kiba…are you absolutely certain of this? Are you sure it's not because you're being blinded by its…I mean her charms? I mean, if you're into that, whatever, that's your business, but I'd hate to see you hit rock bottom because f this."

I said nothing at first, following him to the door. Opening the exit I stepped outside before turning back to him. "Just get me the damned files. I'll see what I can find on my own." Tugging my coat tightly around myself, my boots crunched through the snow as I retreated to my apartment for the night.

"And stay out you bum!" The cry of the bouncer still rang in the ears of the man who lay face down in the snow. He groaned, choosing to stay there for a few moment before he could get back up. The fall hadn't hurt and he barely felt the cold. That's what the booze was for: numbing. And numb him it did. His life had left him, that didn't hurt, his kids hated his guts, that didn't hurt either. When he got punched or thrown out of bars or fell down drunk, he didn't feel a damned thing and that's how he preferred it.

Finally, he managed to clamber for his feet, making his way awkwardly down Piltover's night time avenues back to the small hovel he called a home. Little did he know, however, that he was not alone on that cold winter night. Behind him, alien footsteps crunched in the snow, following his ever so carefully.

The man paused for a moment, the following steps froze like the icy water that fell from the heavens. Looking up at the dilapidated stairs, he ascended, falling twice in his attempt to return to his home. Finally, he made it, his keys retrieved from his pocket as his shadow followed after him.

Still unaware of its presence, his shadowy hand desperately tried to slide the key into the lock, with little success until at last the clumsiness of the booze caused them to fall from his hands. As he fell to his knees to get them, a large crack echoed and he felt the world spinning even more than it had been previously.

Moments later, he found himself awake, unable to breathe as his head was shoved in water. He began to struggle, and when his head was removed from the water he attempted to look into the face of his attacker, with no luck. The lights in the apartments were completely shut down, not even a figure could be seen as his face was once again forced down into the hot sobering water.

The grip on his hair was rough and unforgiving, and he began to feel very afraid. Who was this mysterious attacker that was sobering up, what did he want with a worthless drunk like himself. He sputtered as his hair was yanked out of the water again, his one eye blurry as he tried to focus. "What is your name?" A voice asked in a tone colder than the blizzard outside.

"Wh-what?" The man slurred, trying to focus enough to see his attacker. Another dunk in the burning water stung at his eyes and nose.

"Your name!" The voice roared, still showing no hints of emotion.

"Eranth!" He winced, reaching for the hand holding him. He felt cold steel beneath his fingertips and his eye finally began to focus enough to see the dim outline of metallic figure, the mysterious clicking noise he heard echoing in his ears.

"Last name?"

"Alkazar. What are you doing to me?" The figure was silent before slamming him back down into the hot water causing Eranth to scream in frustration. But the figure knew that things were not at risk. No neighbors would hear him scream for mercy. He was alone, just as it had always been planned. Forcing him back the figure left the drunken man on the couch and turned to enter hi kitchen.

"N-now…wait just…" Eranth attempted to stand, but stumbled after the figure just as the flame of his stove was lit. The light illuminated a feminine face, like that of a beautiful porcelain doll save the nightmarish scowl that was on it. "Who are you?!" He cried as the figure turned back, a butcher knife that was glowing red hot in hand. "Stay, st-tay away from me!"

The creature grabbed him and roughly shoved the knife into his shoulder causing him to let out a blood curtling scream as the hot steel to slice through his flesh and cauterize it at the same time. Pulling the knife out, Eranth struggled to get away from the psychopathic machine just as it stabbed him again, this time in the other arm. "We are not done." The figure whispered into his ear. "This will be fun."

"P-please…I've got a wife…kids! Don't do this to them. Don't do this to me!" The figure frowned and seeming to consider his words threw the knife over its shoulder. Eranth let out a sigh of relief, but he was too early. The being grabbed him by the collar pulling him back towards the bath room as he continued to weakly flail and kick against its iron grip.

A foul stench filled the air as he felt his body being dragged along the cool tile, and turning he saw, laying in his bathtub, the grotesque sight of a decomposing body in a pool of acid, it's features completely burned off. The worst part however, was the tattoo, barely visible on its shoulder, with his name on it. "That's…that's…"

"The only woman you ever loved." The figure finished. "She was lucky. She was killed before I put her in there. You on the other hand…" Again his face was forced into the liquid, this time it felt as if it as boiling as it burned his one eye, the rest of his face feeling as though someone were sanding away his flesh. The figure pulled back his head, chemical steam rolling off his burned flesh before throwing him to the ground.

"Please, for the love of Gods, please stop!" The man sobbed, curling into a ball. "Just leave me be." The creature's hand snatched his wrist and pulled it close; he didn't even put up a struggle this time. He couldn't. Until he felt the cold iron of the pliers against his finger. "What are you doing?!" He snapped at the figure before a terrible pain raced through his finger tip, the angry creature now holding the pliers triumphantly in the air, a bloody fingernail stuck inside of it.

The bathroom lights flickered as Eranth screamed in anguish, his hand coated in blood from where the nail was ripped out. "Your suffering is only beginning." The voice informed him, the flickering lights exposing the doll like woman even further.

"N-no! It can't be you…it can't be!" He shrieked. Every cry for help he made went unheard and unanswered, the vile attacker ripping out each of his finger nails, oh so slowly, one by one. His right hand gone, Eranth soon felt he was going to pass out again from the shock of it all. This couldn't be happening. He watched weakly as the girl dipped his bleeding hand in the acid before grabbing his other one. He was so weak he couldn't pull his hand from the vicious liquid that already was feasting upon his flesh as she continue to remove his fingernails.

What she said next made his blood curdle as her lips formed into a maniacally sinister grin. "Don't worry…next come your toes."

To be continued…