A/N: I don't know if I will put notes at the top of ever chapter, but I will start this off by saying that I have a thread about to go up on the LoL fanfiction forum, where I will probably have much more information than I will in these notes. Check out my thread, thumb it up, and bump it. Reveiws - sent either here or posted on the thread - are highly appreciated. Thanks for stopping by and please, enjoy!

Wounded

Chapter 1: First Blood

There is a sort of calm that settles over Summoner's Rift before every battle – a few seconds of silence, an anticipation – as if each Nexus paused to take a deep breath, draw in the surrounding energy, and channel it for just a moment before release. It was a tangible force, observed by many champions in the League as they prepared themselves in those few moments before a fight. Today, it was notably absent. The sky had ripped apart, fractured by brilliant lightning cracks, pouring rain in torrents and filling the air with a powerful electric charge that seemed immune to the typical pre-battle tranquility.

There were some champions who loathed fighting during inclement weather, and battles during storms were limited, though not unheard of. This one just happened to fall on the day of the most violent tempest Valoran had seen this season.

Concealed perfectly in tall grass, Noxus' Sinister Blade waited in complete stillness, drenched to the bone. She focused solely on the crouched figure in front of her, hidden in an adjacent grove with his muzzle in the air, ears cocked to catch the slightest footfall over the raging storm. Neither of them could detect the presence of an enemy until the air in the clearing grew heavy, shimmering for a moment before a huge stone golem appeared.

Reacting quickly, Katarina hurled her blade at the creature, distracting it long enough for Warwick to lunge. She watched as the werewolf took down the confused creature without fault. Silently, the Sinister Blade melted back into the jungle, eyes locked on the structure that towered over the tree line. She approached the no-man's land between her turret and that of her enemy and waited in the grass for her opponent to appear.

A minute passed. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Katarina's piercing eyes scanned the enemy jungle for any sign of life when suddenly, she heard a loud screeching noise over the sound of the rain. The jungle was lit up by a brilliant flash of blue light as a nearly-transparent hawk soured directly over her head, giving a quick circle before alighting on a branch nearby. Katarina stared at it in confusion, realizing just a moment too late that the bird had come from behind –

Thwack!

An arrow sailed through the trees and buried into the Sinister Blade's shoulder, causing the woman to wince involuntarily. She whirled around and scanned the trees, sinking further back into the grass. The hawk's light had disappeared and the heavy rain made it difficult to distinguish one shadow from another.

There. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky, lighting up the battlefield for half a second. The brief illumination was all Katarina needed to spot a hooded figure perched on a tree branch not 20 feet away. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she hurled a knife at the archer and rolled into another bush to wait, eyes locked onto the tree that was once again surrounded by the fog of war.

Carefully, she pulled the arrow out of her shoulder and pressed the wound tightly to help stop the bleeding. She felt the vague presence of her team members in her head, wondering why she hadn't returned to her lane, but she tuned them out with practiced ease and kept her focus on the hidden archer. If her opponent felt no need to stay in lane, she wouldn't, either. Besides, this was far more interesting.

Another arrow whistled through the rain, and Katarina barely had enough time to jump, letting it sink into the saturated ground beside her. She followed the arrow's path and realized it had come from a different tree. The archer was on the move.

Crouching low, Katarina left the relative shelter of the long grass and waded across the river, coming to a halt at the base of the tree where she had first glimpsed the figure. She inspected the ground carefully, searching for footsteps or-

Blood. Katarina grinned in triumph as she caught sight of the small red puddle that was already soaking into the ground with the rain. Her knife had struck true, and her enemy was wounded. She felt another jolt of pain in her shoulder and knew she'd have to be a little more careful, but her instincts were already sharpening, her body thrumming with adrenaline.

A shadow moved through the fog to her right, and she aimed at a streak of white hair, ducking to avoid another arrow that hit the tree behind her head. She smirked at the bad shot before a volley followed it without warning as the skilled archer fired several icy arrows at once. The Sinister Blade had no time to react, and the next moment found her pinned to the tree behind her, the frigid arrows driven through her arms, their icy composition providing a sharp contrast to the burning agony she felt an instant later. Pain exploded in her body and she grit her teeth in anger, struggling in vain.

The archer's cowl dropped and Katarina found herself staring into the cold, determined face of Ashe, the Frost Archer as she strung one last arrow and raised her bow, aiming the shot directly at Katarina's heart.

The Sinister Blade inhaled sharply, channeling all of the adrenaline in her body, feeling her powerful killer instincts kick in. The moment the arrow was released, she disintegrated in a puff of deep purple smoke, causing the shot to lodge itself into the blood-soaked tree. Ashe had no time to react before the badly wounded assassin was directly behind her, one hand knocking the bow from her grip and clutching her wrist tightly, the other pressing a knife to her throat.

She gave the other woman a mere instant to feel her fear before viciously dragging the blade across her skin. Normally, she liked to revel in slaughter, but ever since she joined the League she'd forced herself to be more…efficient with her timing. As the announcer's voice cut through the sounds of the storm to broadcast her kill, Katarina did allow herself a moment to catch her breath while she held the lifeless archer in her arms.

She felt that her body was nearly spent, and the pain was stronger now, throbbing angrily as the accelerated healing in the arena pulled the wounds shut – still too slowly for her liking. She knew she'd have to be very careful in her escape back to her team's fountain, where she could quickly recover from the gouges that Ashe's arrows have carved into her body.

Katarina looked down at the woman she still held. Cold, she remarked to herself. The Frost Archer was one of the few opponents she'd ever faced whose body was cold before she lay dead. The assassin found that fact slightly unnerving.

I have to move, she thought to herself. She would much later come to question the care with which she lowered Ashe's body to the ground, but in this moment, her only thought was to hug the river bank and keep quiet. She scanned through the rain for any signs of another enemy. They would all have heard the announcer's declaration of First Blood, and they likely knew she had been in this area when she made the kill. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary –

"ARRRGGHHH!"

An enraged Tryndamere appeared from the bushes, swinging a hulking blade over his shoulder. Katarina sprang up from her position beside his dead wife and took off in the direction of her turret. Despite the fact that he dragged an enormous sword with him, the barbarian was actually quite fast, and the assassin moved slower than normal due to her injuries. She tried to muster up enough strength for another Shunpo to escape, but her body was still too drained.

She heard the man behind her lift his sword high over his head. A crushing weight slammed into her skull and the world went black instantly.

Katarina was floating high above the battlefield, mercifully painless. She could still hear the dull sounds of rain falling all around her, but the storm didn't seem to touch her at all. She felt as if she were in a trance, or perhaps a dream; her mind was too distorted to present an apt comparison.

She saw a sequence of lights flash gently before her eyes and she was pulled higher, beyond the clouds and well beyond the reaches of Summoner's Rift. The storm was fading now, and with it the announcer's voice, pronouncing her dead…

With a jolt, Katarina felt the process reverse itself. She was plummeting towards the ground, feeling quickly returning to her limbs. All around her, she heard a deafening rush closing in on her, putting pressure on her from all sides. The lights in front of her eyes faded and flickered out, and she could once again feel the raindrops beating against her skin…

Katarina opened her eyes and found herself standing at her team's illuminated purple fountain, restored to full health instantaneously, pulled from the brink of death just as she had been countless times before. She shook her head to clear it, scolding herself for her slow reactions in the jungle.

"Good, she's back. Are you ready to actually play the game now?" snarled an unkind voice from beside her. Renekton towered over her, having ported back to the fountain of his own accord, rather than having been forced to return by the pull of resurrection.

Katarina cursed the Summoner's magic that forbade her from attacking her own teammates. "Jealous of my First Blood, Scale Face?" she spat, dashing off of the fountain before the crocodile could respond properly.

"Not funny!" he called to her retreating figure, "How about you stay in your damn lane this time!"

By the time Katarina found herself back at home on the summoning platform, she had taken quite a beating. Despite her First Blood, her team had performed poorly for the rest of the match, and she had been slaughtered several more times by an overzealous Tryndamere who simply refused to die. He and Ashe had carried their team with brute force, with Ashe's first death the only loss between the two of them.

The ten champions from the match stood on the illuminated dais, exhausted from the long and brutal battle. Katarina herself was drenched to the bone with rain and blood, having been pulled from the match just as she was executing another Death Lotus among her enemy. She felt a strange disorientation as her opposing team members stood on the platform next to her, and she had to remind herself that the battle was over and she could not attack them now. A brief shake of her head cleared the lingering urge to kill.

She was supposed to be gracious, now, right? The Head Summoners encouraged camaraderie between all champions, and it was traditional to compliment your opponents' skills after a defeat. Biting back the rage she felt at losing, she took a step towards Ashe, intending to spit a cruel imitation of "good game" before departing.

Before she had the chance to speak, a heavy arm came around the Frost Archer's shoulders, gripping her possessively. Tryndamere wore a hard expression as he steered his wife away from the gathering of champions, leading her off of the dais and down the hall without a word. Katarina watched their departure with a stir of vague curiosity. Ashe's face, cold and unreadable, was quickly hidden by a curtain of wet hair, stained from the battle and no longer shimmering white.

Her observation was interrupted by Renekton, who broke away from the others to approach her. "You do realize that you lost us the match, right?" he growled.

She did, deep down. Despite her many kills, Katarina had taken far too many hits in return. The tower she had been assigned to defend had been the first to fall. But she would never admit that; not to herself, and certainly not to Renekton.

"My blade saw more blood than yours, Scale Face." She felt him stir angrily at the use of the nickname. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd addressed him properly.

"Yes, and so did your body," he spat. The rest of the champions were clearing out now, unwilling to stay for the argument of two of the most volatile champions in the League.

"At least I was actually helping," she countered, turning on her heal to face the enormous crocodile. "I can't say the same for you."

Renekton's eyes narrowed to slits at the Sinister Blade, and he unconsciously bared more teeth at her. "It's called 'backdooring,' but what would you know of strategy –"

"Enough."

A stern voice cut through the air, silencing the two champions. Katarina turned to see the approaching figure of General Swain, the only man she knew who managed to look imposing while walking with a cane. His bird settled on his shoulder, glaring at the both of them, but his own face was impassive. "Katarina, may I have a word?"

"Really, Swain?" Katarina gestured to her outfit, which was still torn, soaked, and covered in fresh blood. Although the summoning magic restored all champions to full health after a match, it didn't do much for one's appearance. "Not now. I'm going to my room."

She stalked off the dais, radiating frustration. She heard Renekton snort in amusement behind her. That didn't help her mood.

Swain seemed to want to speak to her as she passed; he thought better of it, shut his mouth, then thought better of it again. "Did you win?" he called to her retreating figure.

She didn't bother answering.

Unfortunately, it didn't look like Katarina was going to get the alone time she craved any time soon. When she arrived at her quarters, Cassiopeia was standing guard at the door, arms crossed over her chest, her serpentine tail flicking in impatience. She heard her sister approaching and dropped her stance, nodding her head in welcome.

"Did you win?" she asked, echoing Swain. It was a typical greeting among League champions. Katarina again chose to remain silent, opening her door and stepping inside the dimly-lit room. Cassiopeia entered behind her, noting her sister's silence.

"Has Swain talked to you yet?"

Katarina opened her dresser and began pulling out another set of clothing. "No, but he tried. What does he want?"

"He wants us to return to Noxus on our day off tomorrow," she said in a bored tone, "Something about a war council."

Intriguing, thought Katarina with a glance over her shoulder. "Did he say anything else?"

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"Is it just for one day?"

"Apparently we would return the morning after."

Katarina paused to think, but couldn't come up with any particular reason why a war council would be necessary at this time. It was likely just going to degenerate into a bunch of old men yelling at each other over the supposed best way to crush Demacia, generating unrealistic plans and frustrating everyone involved.

"Excellent," muttered Katarina sarcastically, her vague interest fading quickly.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at her sister's tone. "Thought you'd be happy."

"Yes. Happy to listen to old men yell about how to destroy Demacia and talk themselves in circles." She rolled her eyes. "No one ever generates a workable strategy, and besides, this isn't the time for a real invasion. It's all for show; just old men clawing for power." She unbuckled the belt of knives that surrounded her waist. "And we're just symbols."

Cassiopeia smirked. "Who knows, maybe someone has a strategy this time. Swain sure looked confident."

Did he? Katarina thought back to when he'd met her after the match, but his demeanor didn't seem much different to her. She had no doubt that he'd be just as eager to seize control as anyone else when the council convened. She shrugged, pulling a towel out of the closet. Cassiopeia noted the streaks of blood across her outfit as she moved.

"Busy match?"

Katarina sighed heavily and glared at her sister. "Must you?"

"Must I what?" her sister countered defensively. "Pardon me for trying to make conversation."

Katarina ignored her.

"You're downright unpleasant sometimes, you know that?"

"What a shame," she mumbled, "I try to be downright unpleasant all the time."

"Katarina, the Sinister Bitch," Cassiopeia mocked.

"Can you leave so I can shower?" snapped Katarina, now thoroughly annoyed.

Exasperated, the half-serpent slithered out the door, slamming it behind her and leaving the assassin to herself. She grabbed the stack of clothing she'd gathered and headed into the bathroom, peeling off her ruined outfit.

She paused in front of the mirror, examining her reflection. Her face was stained with streaks of someone else's blood, accentuating her curtain of crimson hair and the prominent scar across her right eye. On impulse, she raised a hand and rubbed the blood off of her face, wiping it across the mirror to hide her reflection. With a sigh, she turned to the shower and decided to make herself look more presentable.