Chapter Ten

Orianna sent Cass a rather vague and almost cryptic text message. It read, I found something. As if that little message conveyed any worthwhile information. But Orianna had said she'd contact Cass once she had found something useful—perhaps something incriminating on the Crownguards, something that confirmed their involvement with Demacia. So Cassiopeia called the other girl, who answered quickly. She'd been waiting.

"What did you find?" Cassiopeia asked, cutting straight to the point. There was no need to be discreet; Orianna would have already ensured their connection was secure and unmonitored.

"I'm sending you an audio file. You should listen to it," Orianna said. "Goodbye." And then she hung up, leaving a rather annoyed Cass.

Orianna's social skills were abysmal, Cass noted as her phone dinged with an incoming message—the audio file the other girl had mentioned. Well, her social skills were abysmal—but her hacking skills were excellent. Cass opened the audio file and as she listened, her eyes grew wide. When she finished, she leaned back in her chair, her brows furrowed in thought. She steepled her fingers together before her as she calculated, assessed.

After a few minutes, Cassiopeia nodded to herself, stood, and made her way down the hall to Katarina's room, where her siblings were. They looked up when she entered, both eyeing her with rapt attention. Cassiopeia crossed her arms and quirked a brow.

"I have a lead," she told them.

The higher ups hadn't approved it. Well, yet. It was certainly an operation that they would be interested in, definitely one they would consider, and absolutely not an operation they would assign to five teenagers. But the bureaucratic process involved to approve the mission was too timely—they needed to act now. Garen was sure of it.

Luckily for them, Jarvan was the son of Demacia's leader. He held enough influence with his father that, sometimes, he could break the rules. And though this mission might be a step above simply breaking the rules, Jarvan assured them that he would take care of it. "Besides," he said, "If we get that list, nobody will care that we breached protocol."

So their little band of five, consisting of Jarvan, Shyvana, Quinn, Lux, and himself, had gathered their weapons, suited up, and were now awaiting Lux's signal across the street from the library downtown.

The original library had only consisted of three main floors and a basement. It had been remodeled years ago, when Garen had been just a young boy. With ten floors, the new library cast a fairly impressive silhouette against the night sky. Architectural savant though he was not, Garen recognized that the design was older, with stones and arches that reminded him of ancient cathedrals. It stood out like a sore thumb from the rest of the modern downtown architecture; but perhaps, he thought, that was intentional.

"I'm in position," Quinn said over her comms. Garen glanced at the roof of the building across the street from the library—a fifteen story office building. If he hadn't known to look for her—and if his suit didn't offer him improved night vision and sensors—he wouldn't have seen Quinn shift in the shadows. With her vantage point, Quinn would be able to scout for any signs of approaching parties. Lux has warned them about the woman Garen had fought at the police station—the woman whose suit was able to avoid their sensors. So, if she or another person like her were to show up, Quinn would be on the lookout for them.

And in the event that they appeared, Shyvana was ready for them, armed to the tooth with flashbangs, smoke bombs, and various tranqs. She was stationed in the alley just beside the office building where Quinn perched, offering the quickest route to reach any of them if the need arose. She would be prepared to come to the aid of any of them, split up as they were.

"Great," Lux's voice said through the comms. "How's it look from up there? My sensors show no activity." Situated down the street in an unmarked van, Lux was running tech, and would be providing remote assistance. She would disable the security systems (if she hadn't already, Garen thought) and provide them with guidance and directions within the building. She'd already created a series of routes for them which would lead them to the areas described in the message. But there were several sections where the list of Noxians might be hidden—it would take time to find.

Garen and Jarvan were tasked with finding it. Together, they would comb through the rows and rows of books until one of them located it.

It was a simple, straightforward plan, Garen knew. Get in, find the list, get out. It should be easy. But, given recent events, Garen had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't turn out that way.

"Coast is clear," Quinn said. "Just a homeless guy sleeping two blocks down. He hasn't stirred once."

"Good. Garen, Jarvan, are you in position?" Lux asked.

"Affirmative," they said together. Garen tightened his grip on the bat in his right hand.

"Okay," Lux said, and Garen heard the furious clacking of keys over the comms. "There. The security system is down—you can go inside. I'm uploading your routes to your helmets now."

As Garen opened the emergency exit on the right side of the building, a small map of the floorplan appeared in the upper corner of the helmet's visor, with a red line indicating the path he should take. His helmet immediately adjusted to the darkness of the library's interior, and Garen ran a quick scan to be sure there were no heat signatures in the building.

"Nothing on my end," Garen said. A moment later, Jarvan, who was on the opposite side of the library, agreed.

"Not picking anything up. Nothing besides Garen, that is," Jarvan said.

"Doesn't mean there isn't anyone else inside. There's something blocking the sensors from seeing below the first floor," Lux cautioned. "Stay quiet, but hurry."

Garen nodded and began moving as quietly as he could down the hallway. The plush carpet helped to muffle his footsteps, but he was still a large young man—if someone was paying attention, they would hear him.

Garen followed the red line to a staircase, then began to descend it. He winced as his boot touched the first stone step, scuffing against it loudly. He stilled, listening so intently he could hear his own heartbeat—but there didn't seem to be any movement in reaction to the noise. Hopefully that meant nobody was down there. He treaded more carefully after that, making his way to the bottom of the staircase having caused minimal noise.

"I'm in the basement," Garen said. A moment later, Jarvan confirmed he had reached the basement, as well.

Garen ran his infrared scanners, but saw nothing. He blinked, then ran his sensors again... And he raised his bat, ears straining for any sound. "Lux...," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I can't see using my infrared. I can't even see Jarvan."

"What?" Jarvan asked, and Garen assumed he must have run his own scan after that, because he let out a series of whispered curses over the comms.

"The walls must have glass or aluminum in them..." Lux muttered. "Did you try X-ray?"

"Doesn't work," Jarvan said just as Garen toggled his x-ray vision and again saw nothing beyond his immediate surroundings.

"Damn it," Lux said. "You won't be able to detect heat signatures in a different room, or use X-ray vision beyond walls. Assume someone—or a group of someones—is down there already. Be careful."

Garen strained his ears but heard nothing. He unholstered the tranq on his hip and held it at the ready as he began moving forward through the room the staircase had opened into. He followed the red line into an adjacent hallway and stopped, checking his surroundings and listening for noise.

He thought he heard something—a whisper, a voice—but the sound was gone. Garen made his way down the hallway carefully. When he reached the end, he peered around the corner and at the opposite side of the hall, between rows and rows of bookshelves, saw—

A figure, with a gun leveled straight at his head.

It took him the span of a breath to realize it wasn't a gun—it was a tranquilizer, just like his own. Garen let out a sigh of relief and lowered his weapons as he stepped around the corner to see Jarvan, who had likewise lowered his tranq when he recognized his friend.

"Damn it. Don't scare me like that," Jarvan said, and Garen could hear the grin of relief on his face. "I thought you were—"

Garen heard the telltale sound of metal whizzing through the air—a sound he was coming to recognize. He threw himself forward and rolled behind a bookcase for cover. It didn't offer much protection, but it would help obscure him from sight long enough for him to get his footing and raise his own weapons.

"We're under attack!" Garen yelled into his comms, and he glanced in Jarvan's direction to see that he was gone. Hopefully, he'd drawn back into the cover of the hallway. But without thermal or x-ray vision, he had no way of knowing for sure.

"Shyvana—!" Lux began, her voice urgent.

"Already on it!" Shyvana said over the comms.

"No, Shyv—wait!" came Quinn's voice, and she said something else, but Garen couldn't focus on that as he stood, and he saw a familiar knife that had embedded itself into the carpet where he'd been standing.

"Of course," he grumbled, raising his tranq and taking aim towards the masked woman who ducked into the row of bookshelves across from him, gun leveled towards him. They could see one another through the spaces between the books, and she took a step towards him. He tensed his muscles, finger beginning to squeeze the trigger of his tranq. But he hesitated. He didn't know why—but he hesitated.

She paused at the sight of his reaction. "I thought you were someone else, Demacian," she said, her voice low.

Garen's eyebrows rose in surprise. He had expected her to gloat, to shoot—but she sounded almost remorseful.

"Why are you here?" he asked her.

Her green eyes, visible through her ski mask, narrowed. "None of your business," she said darkly. "What are you doing here?"

Garen scowled. He couldn't tell this Noxian why he was here. But he could guess why she was there—she must be protecting the list, or looking for it.

"Looking for something," he said, and then he squeezed the trigger.

The woman easily sidestepped the tranquilizer dart, but Garen thought he saw a hint of shock in her eyes before he took off, running down the row and skirting into the next aisle of bookshelves.

"Shit," he heard her yell. "Serpent, trouble!"

Garen raced down the rows of bookshelves, the woman hot on his heels. Garen glanced over his shoulder and saw that she'd holstered her gun—but she still held a knife in one hand.

Garen shot another round of tranqs over his shoulder, and he heard the woman curse as she ducked into a row of bookcases to avoid the darts. He took the moment of reprieve to check the map in the upper corner of his visor—he was just a few rows away from the section where the book would be located. Over the comms, he heard shouting from everyone.

"Jarvan, I'm on my way—!"

"Damn it, I'm losing her—!"

"Lux, a little help here—?"

"I'm trying—!"

He shut off his comms so that he could focus on the woman behind him. He couldn't see her through the rows of books, but he heard her footsteps racing towards him. He took off, following the red line towards the section of books.

"Wait!" he heard from behind him, but he didn't—he fired a quick burst of tranqs towards the sound of her voice. Another curse confirmed he'd forced her to take cover, and with that, he finally reached the history section he needed.

He turned into the row and froze at what he saw, jaw dropping. Books were strewn about the aisle's floor, and pages had been torn out and tossed haphazardly across the ground. The books left on the shelves were fallen, knocked over as if someone had grabbed the books beside them in haste.

"It's not there," the woman said, and he pivoted, realizing too late that he'd lowered his arm holding the tranquilizer gun, to see the woman, her knife leveled at his throat. "The list," she said quietly. "It's not there. Not anymore."

Garen's eyes narrowed. "Then where is it?" He asked.

The woman smirked. "Here," she said, reaching into the pocket of her pants and producing a USB drive.

Garen wanted to reach out and grab it from her, but the woman must have noticed him tense, because she narrowed her eyes and pressed the knife harder against his throat.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed, pocketing the USB drive once more.

Garen grit his teeth. As he stared into her eyes, a thought occurred to him. "You didn't shoot me." For as long as he'd been running between the bookcases, she could have shot him in the back multiple times, if she'd managed to catch a glimpse of him through the books. The bullet would have ripped through the spine of dozens of books to find him. And she'd clearly known where he was; she'd been on his heels the whole time, save for when she'd had to duck for cover.

The woman stared at him for a beat. "I didn't," she admitted. "I should have."

Something in the back of his mind tugged at him—a memory, a voice. But before he could reach out and remember whatever it was whispering to him on the edges of his mind, the woman lessened the pressure on his neck.

"Demacian," she said. "How did you know about the list?"

"We have our ways," Garen said, breathless as the pressure against his throat lessened.

"We aren't—" the woman began, but then her eyes looked towards the hallway behind them, and Garen heard a faint voice of static—an earpiece she was wearing. He hadn't noticed it until she turned her head and he saw her profile, but now he could clearly see the outline of a mic beneath her ski mask.

He opened his mouth to ask her what was going on when he heard it—the sound of shouting and footsteps coming from the main staircase.

The knife was gone from his neck in an instant.

"Fuck," the woman cursed. She glanced towards him. "I'm guessing those aren't your friends, either." she said.

Garen turned on his comms, and the radio chaos returned, with everyone screaming. He silenced all of the lines except for his connection to Quinn. "Quinn," he said, "is anyone else downstairs?"

"Garen? Don't have time, there's a Noxian and—"

"Quinn, I need to know—is there anyone else down here?" Garen asked again.

"I don't—No. Nobody has entered since you and Jarvan."

"Are you sure," Garen said, "Because there are people down here. Enough to make a lot of noise" As he spoke, the footsteps grew louder.

"Hang on," Quinn said, and he thought he heard Shyvana yelling in the background before Quinn returned, out of breath. "That doesn't make sense… All of the doors are being monitored, I've got a clear view of every exit and every street they lead to, and—oh, damn it, the drain system. The underground tunnels. There could be an entrance beneath the building."

"Shit," he replied.

The masked Noxian snorted and rolled her eyes at that. She crouched against the bookcase opposite him, drawing her gun in a practiced movement and aiming it towards the hallway. "Shadow, Serpent—incoming."

Garen considered putting a tranquilizer into the woman's arm, but something about her—maybe her attitude, or maybe the fact that she'd spared his life—made him think better of it. He turned on the rest of his comms and heard more yelling.

Garen narrowed his eyes as the footsteps grew louder. "There are people here. Lots of them." Judging by the number of footfalls, they would be dealing with at least a dozen hostiles.

He could barely hear the clacking of keys over the shouting of the rest of the group. It sounded like Quinn and Shyvana had their hands full with a man who had compromised Quinn's position, and Jarvan was taking shots at another woman who had thrown tear gas on the ground to keep him from following her down the adjacent hallway. In the chaos, he heard Lux curse under her breath.

"Someone else hacked the system. It's—" he heard her quick intake of breath. "Garen, it's the same woman from the other night! You need to get out of there!"

Garen holstered his weapon and stood, and the woman beside him gave him an incredulous glance.

"What are you—?" she began, but he held out his hand.

"We need to run. Now," he told her. She hesitated only a moment before taking his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She nodded.

He raced towards the exit on the opposite side of the room, relaying to Jarvan over the comms that they needed to leave, now.

"I'd love to," Jarvan said, "but this crazy bitch keeps shooting silent rounds at me!"

Garen scowled and glanced at the woman beside him. "Are you with someone who has silent rounds?" he asked brusquely as they turned a corner and saw Jarvan crouched at the end.

The woman let out a huff and reached to her ear. "Serpent, let us through... yes, us," she muttered.

Jarvan caught sight of them and immediately pointed his tranq towards the woman, who tensed and gripped the knife in her hand tighter, but Garen motioned for him to lower his weapon. Jarvan did so, but not without hesitation.

"What the hell?" Jarvan asked.

"No time to explain," Garen said. "But for now... we aren't... enemies. I think," he said, glancing towards the woman beside him, who shrugged.

"We aren't... Noxian, exactly, anymore," she said.

The woman ran past the two Demacian men and waved at someone down the hallway, then beckoned for Garen and Jarvan to follow. "Come on," she said, and Garen heard shouting from the room behind them. Jarvan scrambled to his feet, and the small group ran down the hallway. Around that corner was another woman, dressed in the same gear as the knife-wielding one. This woman, however, wielded two slim, green-tinted pistols in either hand. She barely spared them a glance before joining them, and the group of four raced towards the staircase, not caring about making noise as they scrambled up the steps to reach the first floor.

Garen reaches the landing first, and he immediately saw that the main hall of the library was occupied by about five different men, each wearing a suit similar to the one he'd seen the other night, on the woman who had broken into the station and murdered the two suspects.

Garen raised his tranq and fired at the closest man before the man was able to level his rifle towards them, and the man crumpled to the ground.

Jarvan fired beside him and hit another man, and Garen was able to get another shot off and incapacitate another man before the remaining two leveled their weapons towards them.

Two knives embedded themselves within those men's' chests, and they collapsed backwards.

"You killed them?!" Jarvan yelped, turning towards the woman beside them.

"Yeah. So they wouldn't kill your friend," she said. Garen felt a mix of horror and anger that Jarvan surely shared at the dismissive attitude the woman had immediately after killing two men. It was against Demacian code to kill—and yet, they were currently working with this woman, who was clearly a seasoned murderer. On the other hand, she hadnt tried to kill them, even though she had plenty of opportunities. And she sort of reminded him of—

But before Garen could even begin sorting through his conflicting emotions and thoughts, the other woman said, "Less talking, more running," and he realized she was right. They needed to escape, and quickly. This issue—they could deal with it, they could deal with this whole situation, later.

The four of them raced across the now empty hall towards the main doors. There was no reason to use the side exits, anymore.

"Is everyone in position to leave?" Garen asked.

"Affirmative," Lux replied, "bringing the van around to the front."

A shot rang out from behind them, and Garen felt something rip across his shoulder. He hissed, but kept running, not even sparing a glance behind him. He knew that the hostiles must have reached the first floor again, and if they didn't leave now, they would be riddled with bullets.

As they burst through the front door, more shots rang out behind them, narrowly missing as the group ducked and weaved to avoid the bullets.

Lux had brought the van around to the opposite side of the street. and Garen saw Shyvana hop into the back.

"Shadow, come here!" hissed the woman with the green pistols, and a familiar figure appeared from between the office building and the building beside it, emerging from the shadows silently. The man, who Garen recognized from their previous encounters, raced towards them.

"Garen, you've got Noxians on your tail!" Quinn said over the comms.

"Not Noxians," he said between gasps of air, his muscles burning as he ran towards the van. "Allies. Don't shoot them."

"But he was shooting us earlier," Shyvana began, but Jarvan interrupted her.

"They aren't the ones trying to kill us. Now make room and get ready to beat it!"

When they reached the van, Garen turned and began giving cover fire as the other three climbed into the back. A bullet ricocheted against the ground by his foot, and dozens of others hit the side of the van. The hostiles were returning fire, now, and Garen realized they were aiming for the tires just as the other three finally hopped into the van.

One hostile moved to stand in front of the rest, and Garen recognized the woman's suit, and the way she carried herself—as if she were simply a cat watching in amusement as her prey scrambled to escape. She raised her rifle and began to take aim, pointing the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Go, go, go!" Garen yelled into the comms.

"Get in, you idiot!" yelled the knife-wielding woman, and Garen jumped into the back just as a round of bullets hit the space he'd once occupied. The wheels screeched beneath them, and the van lurched forward as Lux sped down the road.

Garen quickly closed the door closest to him, and Jarvan closed the other one. They heard the pelting of bullets against the metal, but the reinforced armored car was designed to be bullet-proof, and the bullets bounced harmlessly off as Lux turned the corner, tires screeching, and raced down the city streets like a madwoman.

It was a cramped fit in the back. But his friends were all safe, if a little worse for wear. Quinn and Shyvana were covered with scratches, but none seemed serious. Jarvan had managed to get away unscathed. The three Noxians—or, former Noxians—were mostly uninjured; only the man had sustained any injuries, and even his seemed minor, with only a few bruises and cuts.

He met familiar green eyes, and maybe his vision was getting a little blurry, because he could have sworn he recognized that particular shade of green.

"You're hurt," the woman said, eyes widening, and he followed her gaze to look at his shoulder.

"Oh," he said, and it was as if the pain had been waiting for him to acknowledge it, because it hit him all at once in a rush. He grunted, and the searing pain in his shoulder made him feel as if his entire arm and torso were on fire. His vision began to swim, and the last words he heard were, "We're so fucked."

Katarina and Cassiopeia were inside, searching, when the van pulled into the street, and unloaded four individuals.

"We might have a problem," Talon muttered into his mic.

"Damn it. What is it?" Cassiopeia hissed.

"Four people. Taking up positions around the library." He watched as one figure made its way into an alley, two figures flanked the building, and another moved into the office building directly adjacent to the building on which's roof he was positioned. He could only assume they were headed for the roof, from which they'd be able to see him easily at his current vantage point. "Two went inside the library. Better hurry. I'm going to have company, soon, so I'm going dark to move into a different position," he said.

"We'll let you know if we find it... damn it, fucking book gave me a paper cut," Kat grumbled in his earpiece.

Talon moved silently across the roof and climbed on top of the air conditioning unit. It was partially hidden by the water tower, and from this angle, whoever was coming to the next roof over wouldn't be able to see him. From here, he could still see the street below, for the most part, though the van was obstructed from view.

Not a minute later, a figure made its way quietly onto the roof of the adjacent building. It was a young woman—small, with a slim frame. She looked around, and he held his breath, glad of his dark cloak that allowed him to blend into the shadows more easily. Her gaze moved over him without a second glance, and then the young woman moved to the edge of the rooftop, staring at the street below.

With her attention focused down below, Talon unholstered his gun and unlocked the safety. The sound of the air conditioning unit beneath him coupled with the wind and distance separating them prevented the click from reaching the other woman. He leveled his gun at her, ready to shoot at the slightest sign of trouble.

A minute passed, and then he heard Kat gasp. "Cass—Serpent", she corrected quickly, "I found it!"

Cassiopeia hummed. "A USB? How typical of father to store vital information on something so easily hacked."

"Someone would have needed to find the damn thing, first. This thing was wedged into the binding of—what's the title—The History of Valoran and its Physical Geography. Who the hell would ever look at this old book—it's outdated, too," Kat rambled.

"Sinister, we need to get out of here before—" Cass cut off, and then spoke in a whisper. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Kat replied, her volume matching Cassiopeia's.

"Shadow, we'll deal with this, then we'll rendezvous with you."

Talon grunted in affirmation and readjusted his sights—an action performed out of habit. He realized too late that the low sound and slight movement had attracted the attention of the woman on the roof. She was looking in his direction, eyes darting suspiciously around, not having spotted his exact location.

Then, from his earpiece, he heard, "Shit!" and "Damn it!" From his sisters, and then he heard a startled yell from the woman on the roof.

He spotted the woman from the alley emerge and begin to charge towards the library. He leveled his gun towards her, narrowing his eyes. Not on my watch, he thought as he squeezed the trigger.

He caught a glint in the corner of his eye, and he barely rolled to the side to dodge a dart. A tranquilizing dart.

Demacians, he thought ruefully. What terrible timing they always had, showing up at the worst possible time. The woman on the other roof was shouting into her comms, and Talon knew that he'd been spotted. He must have moved his gun too quickly, and she'd seen the motion.

It was too late to mask his movements, now. Talon leaped off the air conditioning unit he'd been hiding behind and ducked into the shadows behind it, keeping to the small ledges on the edge of the roof. The girl on the rooftop had moved out of sight, too, and so he slowed, his eyes darting from side to side as he examined every angle, every vantage point, looking for—there. A flicker of a shadow, just barely out of place for an instant.

Talon raised his gun and crouched, content to wait until the woman moved, dared to check around the corner of the ventilator.

What he wasn't expecting was for someone to burst through the doors of the roof behind him with a roar unlike any he'd heard. Talon turned in time to see the woman who had been on the street look around, and as he stood, their eyes met.

As she raised a tranquilizer in his direction, he spun into action, throwing daggers towards her that forced the woman to retreat.

He was in a bad position here, flanked from both sides. Though Talon knew he could kill these women, he wasn't sure he could do so without getting hit by one of those darts. Completely exposed out here in the open, Talon was at a disadvantage.

So he decided to even the odds, just a bit. He threw his gun back over his shoulder, tossed a dagger towards the woman's foot, and threw another behind his back towards where the other Demacian had been hiding.

Before the women could recover, Talon vaulted over the edge of the roof and grabbed onto a small ledge just above the window of the top floor. Using the momentum from his fall, Talon swung into the window, tucking into a ball as the glass shattered upon impact into a thousand pieces around him. He landed on his feet in a crouch, glass crunching beneath his boots, and then he stood, shaking off the shards from his cloak.

He smirked as he heard the two women above yelling in confusion. Though he couldn't make out the words, their tone said it all—they had absolutely no idea where he'd gone.

He would have chuckled to himself if the second woman—the stronger one—hadn't swung into the room using the same path he'd used, albeit landing with a far less graceful landing, stumbling into the shards of glass with a curse as they cut her hands and cheek.

The second woman landed far more gracefully, avoiding the glass entirely.

Talon threw a dagger towards each of them the moment they landed, but both women dodged out of the way. The larger one rolled to the side with a snarl, using a desk for cover. The smaller, lither one had to throw herself to the ground, earning a cut or two along her palms and face from the glass shards that still littered the floor.

"Shit," he cursed, and he raced out of the office room and into the narrow hallway lined with doors. With the women surely about to be hot on his tail, he couldn't afford to waste time and hide inside any office. He needed to be strategic.

Strategy had never been Talon's forte; that was Cassiopeia's area of expertise. Within seconds, the two women would chase through the door after him, and in this long stretch of hallway that afforded no cover, he would be a sitting duck for their tranquilizers. He was good at evading bullets, but with this little space to maneuver, it wouldn't be possible. Just as he realized this, a thought occurred to him.

Talon drew his gun and started firing down the hallway towards the room he'd just vacated. His intent wasn't to actually hit the two Demacians. He doubted they would exit when there was gunfire aimed their way. But what he really wanted was to just buy time. As he fired, he raced backwards down the hallway. He turned the corner and saw what he was looking for—the elevator. He pushed the down button, then scrambled across the small hallway towards the stairs. He hoped the two women would fall for his trick as he closed the door as softly as he possible could, then turned and raced up the stairs.

Talon burst onto the roof and crouched, heart hammering in his ears as he drew ragged breaths. Now that he was out in the open again, he moved to the edge of the roof, once more drawing his sniper rifle.

He saw the fruits of his labor rush out of the entrance on the first floor, the slender woman glancing around the streets in confusion as she tried to figure out where Talon had gone. He smirked as he raised his sniper and aimed down the sights.

Then he heard the door to the roof open, and he let out a sigh.

"So annoying," he muttered as the tall Demacian noticed him and ran at him. He didn't have time to draw his knife as she fired a round of tranquilizer darts at him, closing in on his position. Out in the open, though, Talon was in his element, and he easily sidestepped all of the darts, drawing a knife as he did so.

He spun and ducked low as she swung at him, and when he rose from his crouch, it was with a slash of his knife, aimed at the woman's exposed abdomen.

But she used her momentum to spin quickly on her heel, and his knife only grazed her arm as she grabbed his own forearm with a grip of iron.

"Raaaah!" the woman roared as she flipped him over her, hurling him into the ground. Talon met the floor with a crash, his head spinning and the wind knocked out of him. His knife clattered out of reach several feet away, and as Talon staggered to his feet, he saw the woman stalk towards him in the corner of his eye.

Breath ragged and blood in his mouth, Talon grunted as he threw himself to the side, barely avoiding a tranquilizer dart. He rolled behind a water tank; it offered only temporary cover, but it gave him a surface to steady himself against as he drew a handful of knives. His head was pounding, but he listened intently for the woman's footsteps as she stepped around the water tower to level her tranquilizer gun at him.

The moment she did, Talon let fly the knives in his hand, and the woman was barely able to dodge most of them. A few left scratches, but there was no substantial damage.

But that wasn't the intent. His intent had been to distract her, and in that, he had been successful. With a cry, Talon launched himself at the woman, knife at the ready.

The woman had no time to raise her gun. Instead, she was forced to retreat, and Talon kept on the offensive, swinging his knives at her in rapid slashes, only for her to barely evade them. He made several more cuts until she surprised him—she swung at his knife hand with the tranquilizer gun.

The knife met the gun and sparks flew as steel clashed against steel, and Talon grimaced. The blade was ruined, now; worse, the woman had caught him off guard.

But Talon had trained in this art for years, and he drew a second knife. He swung it towards her neck—a feint that she fell for. As she flinched away from the movement, he drew up his leg and kicked her, sending her flying across the roof. When she landed, the tranquilizer gun flew from her hand over the side of the roof, falling into the street below. She rolled to absorb the impact and stood, fists raised.

Talon would have thrown a dozen knives into her, but Cassiopeia's voice made him freeze. "Black Rose. Move!"

Talon's blood ran cold.

He glared at the woman across from him, gritting his teeth as he heard the sounds of his sisters' retreat from the library. He could kill this woman—but it would take time. Time he couldn't afford right now.

He swept around and ran to the edge of the building. With a powerful bound, he crossed the distance from one rooftop to the next, and he rolled to break his fall. Distantly, he heard the woman let out a sound of surprise from the roof above him, but Talon was far more focused on his sister's as they yelled into the comms about the enemies they were facing.

He looked around the rooftop and spotted a fire escape, and he took that, every minute of his descent making his worry for his sister's grow. He leaped from the bottom rungs to reach the floor, and then slunk into the shadows.

It wasn't long before his sister—and familiar Demacians—fled from the front doors.

The instinct to throw daggers into the Demacians' necks was one that had become automatic to him over the years. But Kat and Cass stayed his hand, and he remembered that they had worse things to worry about when the Black Rose started shooting at them.

It seemed they had a common enemy in the Black Rose, because the Demacians were willing to let the DiCouteau siblings join them in their escape. The group raced into an unmarked van—the Demacians'—and they fled the scene.

Talon was about to ask what the hell was going on when the tall, burly Demacian passed out. Katarina managed to catch him, and she gave the man a quizzical look, as if he had asked her a strange question, or had said something unintelligible.

It was then that Talon realized something, if only because he and his sisters were shoved to the back as the other Demacians dragged the unconscious one to the front and began to tend to his wounds. Talon realized that, in this small, confined space, with only a few masks between them, he and his family were trapped in a van full of Demacians.

Talon leaned towards his siblings.

"We need to get out of here," he said softly, so the Demacians couldn't hear above the fuss they were making over the unconscious man.

"You're right," Cassiopeia said, her voice just as low as his. Looking at her, Talon saw that she was pale—paler than usual. Whatever she had seen back there, it must have shaken her. "Let me—give me a minute," she said as she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone. She began sending messages, though to whom, Talon didn't know.

Katarina was frowning and staring at the blood on her hands with an unsettled look in her eyes. That was... odd. Kat had been covered in blood before, had killed dozens of men, had come home multiple times with bloodstains on her weapons and clothes. There was no reason for her to be disturbed by the sight of blood.

It took a moment for Talon to realize that it was the Demacian's blood, though, from where she had caught him and applied pressure to his gunshot wound.

"Sinister," he said softly, but she didn't react, so he tried again. "Sinister," he repeated, this time reaching out and placing his hand on her shoulder. Kat started.

"Oh. Shit," Kat said, her eyes scrunching up behind her mask as she swatted his arm away. "What?"

"You okay? Did you hear what I said?"

Kat blinked, then nodded. "Yeah. Yes, I was just—distracted." Her eyes turned steely, and whatever vulnerability that had been showing in them previously vanished. "We're outnumbered. And the USB is—"

"I have it covered," Cassioepeia said, pocketing her phone. "On my signal, follow my lead."

Kat and Talon shared a glance between them, and Kat shrugged.

"Okay," Kat said.

"What's the plan, exactly?" Talon asked.

Cassiopeia's gaze slid over to the Demacians, and Talon followed her line of sight and met a startling pair of deep brown eyes staring right back at him.

The smaller woman from the rooftop, the one who had spotted him even through the dark and distance.

So that explained why Cass was being so vague. The girl was listening—he wondered how much of their conversation she had already heard.

"We wait. There's nothing else to do," Cass said with a shrug, and the fact that she was acting so cavalier about their situation made Talon relax a bit—she was confident, then, that her plan (whatever it was) would work.

Kat grunted and edged closer to the Demacians, worry in her eyes as she glanced at the Demacian who was still bleeding, though the other Demacians has managed to put pressure on it.

"Is he...?" Kat trailed off, her voice rough.

One Demacian glanced towards them, and he caught a glimpse of startlingly blue eyes behind her mask as she spoke. "He's going to be fine. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, didn't damage anything important."

Talon let out a whistle. "Lucky," he said. The girl turned to him, and though Talon couldn't see her face, he could tell by the way her fists clenched and her shoulders tensed that he must have said something wrong. It was something his sisters did, and something Lux did, too—hiding their anger, or at least, thinking they did, behind a smile, a scowl, an impartial expression... Talon had learned years ago to read the signs of an impending explosion. And yet, somehow, he missed them, here—tonight.

"Lucky? Lucky? He wouldn't have gotten shot if you idiots hadn't slowed him down."

"Idiots?" Talon repeated. He felt affronted at the accusation. "You're calling us idiots?" He pushed off from the wall of the van where he had been leaning, and he uncrossed his arms. "The Black Rose only arrived after you Demacians made a whole show of sneaking into the library."

"The Black Rose is after you, not us," the woman countered. Cass, who had previously seemed uninterested in the argument, suddenly perked up, listening intently.

"And why do you think that?" Cass asked.

The woman snorted. "You pissed them off? I don't care—the point is, we wouldn't have had to worry about bullets and machine guns pointed at our asses if it hadn't been for you."

"It could have just as easily been one of us with a bullet in our arm," Talon replies. "All of us could be lying dead right now in the middle of the road. But we aren't. And he's alive—you know he's alive. You should be grateful; some of us don't have that luxury."

And Talon knew he'd said too much, then, let his emotions get the best of him, by the way his sisters both visibly flinched at his words. Cassiopeia's flinch was minuscule, only noticeable because of their proximity. Katarina's flinch was so pronounced, she looked as if we'd just been slapped, and she gasped, her breath hitching.

The Demacian woman only grew angrier at his words. "Don't you dare tell me to be grateful to you, Noxian," she spat. "Don't tell me to be grateful about knowing he'll live—to be thankful for life—I don't want to hear that hypocrisy from a murderer."

Cassiopeia, ever the diplomat, took the rising tension in the enclosed space as her cue to cut in. "Point taken," she said, though Talon thought he could detect a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Forgive my bluntness, but why was Demacia at the library today? Surely you can peruse books at your own leisure. Have you considered a book club?"

Talon frowned. It was obvious to him why they had shown up—they had been after the list, too. Cassiopeia knew this—she'd somehow gotten ahold of the message that had originally been directed to Demacia. He knew the reason, and he didn't need to hear Demacia explicitly say it.

But Talon also knew his sister would only be asking a question if she wanted to hear an answer—or perhaps an answer within a misplaced phrase, the key to an even bigger picture hidden in the spaces between loose words. Or maybe she was just killing time. She was certainly riling them up on purpose—and angry words, he knew, often revealed more than intended.

The Demacian crossed her arms. "Why don't you let us see that list, and then we can discuss book club reading recommendations," the blue-eyed Demacian spat.

"I'm afraid I don't know what list you're referring to," Cassiopeia said, a condescending smile spreading on her lips. "You'll have to be more specific, Lady of Luminosity."

Another Demacian stepped forward, a metal pole in his hands angled in the DuCouteaus direction.

"Is that a threat?" the young Demacian man said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I merely asked for clarification. I hardly see how that constitutes a threat," Cassiopeia replied evenly, despite the pole angled at her face.

"Stay out of this, Exemplar," the Lady of Luminosity hissed.

"Don't talk to him like that," protested the woman who had ruined Talon's daggers on the rooftop. "He's just trying to help."

"Intimidation won't sway them," said the other Demacian woman from the rooftop—the one with the slight frame. She was soft-spoken and calm, which surprised Talon. But when she turned to them, he couldn't help but feel as though she were watching them as a bird did its prey, waiting for the right moment to rend flesh with claw. "But we outnumber you. You should answer our questions and stop playing around."

"Playing around?"

Everyone turned to face Kat, who had been quiet until this point. Her bloody hands were curled into fists by her sides, and a fire blazed behind her eyes.

"You think we're playing around?" she said, her voice low—but a silence had fallen over the space, and her voice carried over it. "My life is being ripped apart. Every second, I look over my shoulder to make sure that the Black Rose isn't there. I stay awake at night, terrified that they will kill the only family I have—and you think this is just a game to me?" Kat took a step forward, and the Demacian scout took a step back from her.

"This isn't a game. This is a war, a war that I can't afford to lose. I will kill every last one of them. And I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me," Katarina said quietly with a pointed look in their direction. She looked at each Demacian in turn, the scowl on her face was downright frightening. "So don't ever insinuate otherwise."

A heavy silence fell over the room, and the air was thick with tension. Unconsciously, Talon's hand crept towards the knives on his belt, and he saw the Demacians fingering their own weapons. They had reached their breaking point—once they passed it, there would be no going back.

But then there was a deafening bang, and the vehicle rocked.

"What the fuck was that?" Kat cried as she steadied herself against the wall of the van. Some of the Demacians hadn't been lucky enough to have any purchase, and they stumbled and knocked into each other; others fell over, dragging someone else down with them. Talon and Cassiopeia were closer to the rear of the van, and so they were able to steady themselves against the back doors.

The back doors that had been locked. The locked doors that Cassiopeia was currently unlocking. She pushed the door open and met Katarina's confused gaze, and Cass smiled. "That's the signal," Cass said, and then she deftly leaped out of the rear, and Kat and Talon hurried to do the same.

They ignored the protests from the Demacians behind them as they exited the van.

Kat had only a moment to take in the surrounding scene. And although she had never shit her pants since she was three, she thought that if there were ever an acceptable time to shit one's pants, this would be it.

The van was in a clearing surrounded by tall oak trees. It was possibly a park, Kat wasn't sure, but this information hardly registered in her mind, paling in comparison to the next object of her focus.

Dozens of officers—FBI, Kat noted—lines the clearing, each with a gun trained on them. The van's tires had all gone flat—or, rather, Kat realized, the exploding sound that had rocked the van must have been the officers knocking the tires out. In the trees, Kat counted at least two snipers, sights trained toward the van.

But Cassiopeia seemed unfazed by all this. In fact, she walked towards one of the officers and gestured for Kat and Talon to follow. They quickly made their way to her side.

It was at this point that the Demacians managed to gather themselves and chased after them out of the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks upon seeing the dozens of officers and weapons.

The officer Cassiopeia had approached stepped forward almost casually, her boots quiet against the grass of the cleraing. "Hands up!" she commanded, her voice gruff. The Demacians hesitated before lifting their hands in surrender.

The pink-haired officer walked past the DuCouteaus and stopped in front of the Demacians. She reached into her vest and retrieved a badge, flashing it at the group.

"Officer Vi of the FBI," she said, "You Demacians are under arrest."

A/N: I'm alive. Happy Holidays. I promise I'll finish this fic eventually.