The cobblestone streets of Piltover gleamed under the pale moonlight, damp from a recent rain. Silco despised Piltover's pristine airs and pretentious architecture, a city of cogs and glass masking the rot beneath. His visit to Marcus had concluded, his warnings delivered with surgical precision. Yet satisfaction eluded him.

Vi isn't dead. The thought burned in his mind, coiling with the memory of Marcus's pathetic excuses. I placed trust in a spineless sycophant and he rewarded me with lies. She'll complicate everything! He clenched his jaw as he walked, his sharp boots clicking against the wet neatly polished stone of the Topside with unnerving rhythm. Ran and Dustin trailed behind in silence, wisely avoiding any attempt to break it. Silco adjusted his collar, his disfigured eye glowing faintly in the dim light as he charted the shortest route back to Zaun.

Turning a corner, the trio entered a dim alley marked by slight neglect but still too clean for an alley of the Undercity. The faint sound of movement ahead pulled him from his thoughts. Silco raised a hand, his underlings halting at once. His sharp turquoise eye narrowed, his calculating mind shifting to this unexpected variable.

Ahead, a figure crouched near an overturned crate. The way they moved caught his attention. Not a constable he noted. Not a scavenger either. Purpose, but poorly hidden. Intriguing... A rare sight for the Pristine, oh, so perfect Topside. He scoffed with sarcastic disdain. Silco stepped forward deliberately, his measured pace filling the alley with the faint echo of leather against stone. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp, cutting through the silence with surgical precision.