❛ CHAPTER TWO  ❜
Nowhere Girls

( cw; sad lonely lesbians, gross
overuse of metaphors :P )

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'LEAVING' HAS ALWAYS LEFT ENYO to suffer a bitter aftertaste.

   There are many things that she resents in this world, but abandonment has to be the thorny crown atop her list. She hates the connotations of the word and the heartlessness of the action — the undiluted dismissal, the admission of defeat that's like a guillotine cleaving through her larynx every time she allows herself to be let down by someone new. It has a way of silencing her, diminishing her agony beneath the crushing weight of her own isolation.

    She clings to people until her fingernails are bloodied from the struggle, her cuticles bruising from the forceful withdrawal. Enyo anchors herself to unstable moorings and acts the fool when the chain link shatters, stranded in an ocean of her own undoing and sinking fast. It's all her fault for having poor judgement, really, but can you blame a girl for her desperation? Living down in the underground is a tauromachian scrimmage in of itself; it's already survival of the fittest without the added struggle of being on your own. She just had to learn that the hard way.

   And while Enyo has no love lost for leaving, she's not too big on returning either. The walk of shame back to her dingy apartment block wounds her like a different kind of blade, cutting her to the bone with every lurch across the fragmented pavement. She walks the same path, weathered by her own footfalls, and every time without fail she will find herself walking it alone. Sometimes, Enyo feels that there's nothing in this life she won't eventually have to face by herself.

   The hall light sputters from water damage, buzzing strangely to highlight the mouldy walls and cobwebbed caverns between the gaps in the floor. The surrounding apartments are either bolted shut for the night or vacant altogether, leaving Enyo to relish in the resounding echo of her footsteps as she faces the door to her home without any intrusions. Even if she is alone, at least she's become acclimatised to the silence.

She thumbs over the flat edge of her knife as she wrestles around for her keys. They make a horrible grating sound when she crowbars them into the keyhole, swinging the door open with a creaky wail that echoes around the room. Her footsteps grow heavy as she slips out from the shadows and into sanctuary; her chest expanding with a curt breath of relief, her head humming in exhaustion.

The sight of her little flat is welcome after a few days without the luxury of so much as a roof over her head. She can hardly see anything without the light on but from what she can gauge, everything seems to be in form. It's just as she left it: mugs upturned on most of her surfaces, her radio fizzing with static upon her banged up fridge and a few hardy plants beginning to wilt next to the windows, the necessary sunlight and nourishment just out of their reach.

   Enyo's body trembles with the severity of her next sigh. She leans her face forward tiredly, neck craning and forehead slumping against the cold wood of her front door. She feels ready to hibernate for at least the next week. Her eyes flutter shut and she basks in the feeling of having a room to sleep in for the night, her defences relaxing until her guard is almost completely down.

   "I love what you've done with the place."

   Enyo jumps out of her skin, dropping her keys and leaping back against the door. Her hand presses over her pounding heart, eyes widening as she fumbles in her pocket for a means of defending herself. However, the face before her registers after a moment and her terror transforms into nuisance, her glare only illustrated by the blade she's pointing in the culprit's direction.

    "Gods! You can be so creepy sometimes," she hisses, looking around for any signs of forced entry. "How did you even get in here?"

As if it's obvious, the home invader raises their eyebrows, still ensconced in shadow. "You don't have locks on your windows."

   "What are you talking about? I do have—"

   Enyo stops short at the sight of a twisted lock pick balanced between their fingertips, the contorted metal grating agonisingly against their mechanical hand. She folds her arms across her chest and musters up her best scowl, as if she were admonishing a child and not a weapon-wielding criminal.

   "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that you don't have locks on your windows. . . anymore."

  Enyo groans, curling up her hands to mime a strangulation. "Ran, I could kill you."

  "Please," they snort, arms stretching out leisurely. "You'd miss me too much."

Illuminated only by the ghostly glow of the green lights outside, Ran has the audacity to lounge back on her tatty old couch, their choppy raven fringe slanting down over one eye. Smoky makeup has been slathered across their pale face, mascara and eyeliner drizzling down in a way that reminds Enyo of arterial blood spurting from a rupture. Their hands are never idle — picking at a fraying seam on her seat covers, flexing their mechanical fingertips, twiddling the jagged earring pierced through their helix as they wait for her to get settled in. She resists the urge to launch her withering house plant at their head.

   "How long have you been sitting there, brooding in the dark, anyways?" Enyo wonders out loud, launching her keys into a dish and throwing her jacket over the back of a chair. She flicks the lights on with a shake of her head. "Y'know what, don't tell me. I respect you too much to know the truth."

"Aww, you respect me?"

   "Don't make me regret it."

   Enyo rounds the couch at last, knocking their feet off of the coffee table with a harsh kick and towering over them. One of her hands comes to settle on her hip whilst the other brandishes a knife at their throat, held a mere breath away lest they try anything funny with her. She's not in the mood for a brawl tonight.

   Infuriatingly, Ran doesn't bat an eye as her glare intensifies. They just look bored.

   "Why are you here?"

   They grin toothily. "Silco's orders."

"Oh, great. Can he not just turn off my water like a normal landlord?" Enyo groans, taking a step back to press the heel of her palm against her forehead. Ran raises their brows. "Don't give me that look. Why do I have to get kneecapped 'cause of a few late payments? Does he not know that I'm a busy woman?"

Ran clucks their tongue in mock sympathy. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I just wanna do this the easy way," they say. "I like you, Enyo, and I don't wanna knock your teeth in tonight."

"You're too kind." Her face scrunches as she scowls, leaning down to flick their knee. "Seriously, dude, stop man spreading on my couch. Have some decorum if you're gonna threaten my life."

   Ran rolls their eyes but obliges, crossing one leg over the other. Their tone turns imploring. "C'mon, be smart about this. The boss doesn't like to be kept waiting and, at the end of the day, all of your additional struggle is gonna come out of our pay checks—"

"Agh, okay! Will you just let me think?"

   Ran sizes her up. They take in how the exhaustion is rolling off of her in waves. The cosmic smudges of purple and blue blackening her under eyes, the droop of her shoulders and bloodied flex of her knuckles. Her clothes are grimy with street filth and her sleeve is blackened from drying blood, which piques Ran's interest. It becomes clear that she doesn't have much energy left in her, only a deep-rooted anger that's coming to a boil. Ran can't help but scoff a laugh at her predicament.

"What?" she snarls, head snapping up.

"You're so worked up tonight," Ran replies mirthfully. "What happened to you, dude?"

"Nothing!" she squawks. Enyo rubs a hand over her unseeing eye in exasperation. "I'm just. . . stressed."

"Well, let it all out now," they say coolly. "Silco's got a short temper these days, as well. Talk to him the way you're talking to me and I'll have to be the one cleaning your brains off the wall." 

"Anything to spite you."

Enyo turns away to potter about in her flat. She can't collect her thoughts with Ran breathing down her neck, so she decides to make sure everything's in check before she leaves for Janna knows how long. She can only pray to any available god that it'll be a fleeting visit. And, as if to scorn her prayers after years of sacrilege, it's when her boots have just barely grazed the kitchen tiles that Ran's voice rings through to her like a bad omen.

    "How's your arm?"

    Enyo freezes. She pales as if she's suffering Shimmer withdrawal, jaw askew as she fights to compose herself. Her throat clicks and constricts when she clears it, the rings on her fingers scraping up the bumps of her trachea when she clutches it nervously. She sputters a surprised half-laugh.

   "How do you know about that?"

   Ran leans forward, elbows resting upon their knees as they teeter speculatively. Their voice drops as their eyes darken.

   "You know," they begin, "as hard as you try to leave no trace, there's always something that'll catch you out."

Enyo narrows her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

   Ran holds her gaze for a few bone-chilling moments, narrowing in on the way goosebumps course over her exposed flesh and the molten guilt weeps from her pores. Enyo's snapped out of her fears when they burst out laughing, wiping the humour from their eyes with a mechanical talon.

"Chill. I'm just messing with you." Ran tilts their chin towards her arm. "I'm only asking 'cause you're all bandaged up." Their black lips curve up knowingly. "Why? What happened?"

"None of your business."

"Can I not take an interest?"

"Hm. . . no."'

   Ran kicks back again, muddy boots back on her coffee table. They rest their chin upon their flesh hand inquiringly, tracking her every move with a calculative lull in their expression. Enyo stops to glare out of the side of her eye when they utter a speculative, drawn-out hum.

"So, it wouldn't have anything to do with the murder that happened Topside?"

Enyo tenses. "Oh? A murder?"

"Uh huh. Horrible, grisly one. I think the guy had kids." Enyo swallows thickly and it doesn't pass them by. They tilt their head to the side again. "Say, where were you these past few days?"

She fiddles with all the rings on her fingers. "Is this an interrogation, now?"

"You're not always this avoidant."

She grunts. "I was out."

"Interesting." They sigh heartily. "Well, if you want to keep it a secret, you'd better come with me. Just throwin' that out there."

"Y'know, you sound like a total idiot when you talk like that."

"Hm. You sound guilty."

Enyo doesn't quite know what to say to that. She blows a choppily cut curl out of her eye, folding her arms across her chest as a shield between herself and the accuser. Her silence seems to burden their thoughts.

"As much as I could do this all night. . ." Ran checks the time passive aggressively. "I've got to have you in by three, so why don't we just go ahead and make both our lives easier?"

Enyo weighs her options. She could either go willingly and face whatever Silco has planned for her, or she could resist and get herself knocked out. Then, she'd be in the belly of the beast with a fresh bruise budding on her brow and an unnecessary sense of disorientation about her. Both options conclude with the same withering swan song, only one has a smidge more consequence to it.

   Neither are ideal, really. She should've just paid her bills to avoid the berating from Silco altogether.

She splays her hands in sorry surrender. "Go on. Take me in, then."

Ran smiles sadly. "Sorry about this, man."

"It's fine. I get it," Enyo breathes. "Wouldn't want you getting fired because of me."

"Appreciate it."

They stand to their full height with a stretch that cracks just about every bone in their body, rising 'til they're just barely eye level with her collarbones. They pat her on the shoulder before digging their metal claws into her blood encrusted t-shirt, beginning to lead her toward the door with more force than is necessary.

Enyo grunts when her bullet wound catches on the doorframe, wincing as the door slams shut behind the two. She shrugs off Ran's hand, hissing out, "I haven't forgotten how to walk."

"Save that venom for Silco," Ran replies. "I've been planning my outfit for your funeral in my head."

"Shame. I'm getting cremated."

"You bitch."

    "Uh huh. Don't stop walking, now," Enyo murmurs. "Wouldn't want to keep your boss man waiting."

Ran shoots her a cutting glare out of the corner of their eye but acquiesces, nudging her into the cold Zaunite night and continuing their path towards Enyo's favourite establishment. . .

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THE LAST DROP LOOMS OVER ENYO like a harbinger of her own demise.

   She doesn't take her eyes off of it for one second. How could she? It dominates every other building and stall that sprawls across the rundown street, a small yet nocuous empire built upon rocky foundations of chipped brick and blindsided drunkards. The eye that's been sculpted around the original sign watches her with unnerving fervour, scrutinising her approach through the sickly yellow glow of one too many LED lights. Severe pipework and steel frames coil around the bar like serpentine custodians, steam puffing from various outlets along the battered bronze facade as if daring her to take a step inside.

   When she's inevitably prodded inside, Enyo can feel the music reverberating in the notches of her skeleton, thrumming through her clenched jaw and sparking toward her curled up fingertips. A poker match erupts into cheers across the room, their shouts of anguish and triumph intermingling with the booming bass that's beginning to give her a headache. Ran shepherds her through tightly knit crowds of people doling out strong drinks and Shimmer alike, a hand grazing the bullet wound on her arm at all times to keep her in check.

   Enyo is wrangled into a shady upstairs room that she presumes is Silco's office. It's dimly lit and Enyo scorns her partial blindness, having to squint through her seeing eye to try and distinguish any of her surroundings.

   It seems that a number of his lackeys are sprawled across the expanse of the room, all of them leering at her like she's fresh meat tossed inside the lion's den. She scowls back with more intensity than ever, arms flexing at her sides with the sudden temptation to sucker punch someone. Then, she notices how his desk is the disorderly heart of the office, strewn with a myriad of documents and scrolls that have more information on them than Enyo cares to retain. The dull monotony of a single lamp contrasts with the blinding lights downstairs that have seared her vision in overly saturated violet tones for the foreseeable future, a technicolour nightmare to contrast with the plain simplicity upstairs.

   Maybe he likes to disorient his guests that way. Enyo's lips curl into a sneer at the idea.

The man himself is lounging on the chair behind his desk, his salt and pepper hair slicked back away from his face to illustrate every grizzled edge and harsh curve. Scar tissue intermingles with the frown lines upon his face, a refined man on the surface that's rough around the edges by default. His clothes are velveteen and finely tailored, a silken cravat tucked behind the rich fabric of his aureate waistcoat. The dingy light reflects off of his blackened eye and Enyo feels a sting building in her own rupture at the very sight, her fingertips twitching at her sides with the urge to cover it up until the phantom pain subsides.

  He looks up from the documents he had been fussing over when she's nudged across the threshold. Silco nods to Ran as they resign to a distant corner within the room, who begins to sharpen a knife to keep their hands busy. Enyo's too busy death staring in their direction to notice how Silco's leaning forward in his chair, a statement poised on the tip of his tongue.

   "I hear you're looking for work."

That wasn't what she was expecting him to say. Enyo tenses, eyes darting between everyone in the room apprehensively. The weight of all their eyes settled upon her makes her skin crawl but she'll be damned if she lets it show. Instead, she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up to match the withering intensity of his glare, her jaw ticking.

   "What's it to you?" she asks carefully.

   Silco raises an eyebrow. "I thought that would be obvious."

   "Fine. I'll rephrase that," she replies. "What's in it for me?"

Silco chuckles, dry and humourless. "You're confident. Arrogant." His expression slackens. "You should know your place."

"Ah, right. Forgive me. What's in it for me, sir?"

Clearly, he's in the mood for mercy tonight, seeing as he just rolls his eyes and continues. "For starters, I can help you pay off the rest of your cousin's indenture—"

Enyo's eyes widen and her hands ball into fists at her sides. "How do you know about that?" she demands, ignoring the way all his henchmen square up at her shift in tone.

"Are you going to listen to my terms, or are you going to continue to interrupt me?"

There's a pause. Enyo looks to the corner of the room, this time for guidance, only for Ran to shrug and bob their head unhelpfully. She refrains from glowering at them and nips the inside of her cheek with her canines, her gums already bloody from biting her tongue.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut. "Alright, fine. I'm listening."

"Good," he says. Silco leans back in his seat, smoke billowing from his lips. "Thanks to this cousin of yours, you've been causing a lot of trouble in Piltover. Am I correct?"

Enyo doesn't reply straight away. Her eyes continue to dart around the room helplessly, trying to gather a sense of security that she knows to be intangible. Her stare bullets around everyone one more time before coming to rest back upon Silco, who hasn't moved his eyes off of her for one second. She has to admit that it's a little unnerving.

"Well?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yes."

Silco narrows his eyes thoughtfully, head crooked down toward his shoulder. "I understand why."

   "I di—" she pauses, fully registering what he said to her. "You do?"

   "Well, they were bad men, weren't they? Or at least that's what you've been telling yourself to keep your conscience clear." He clears his throat. "I digress. The point is: we've all done regrettable things for the people that we love." Silco's lips twitch up ever so slightly as if amused by some private joke.

"I— Sorry, I don't understand why this is relevant. . ."

"You're disrupting a balance, no matter your motive," Silco replies snippily, sloshing the contents of his glass in speculative circles. "A very fine balance between Topsiders and the likes of us. When influential people go missing up there, or are brutally murdered in their homes, they begin pointing fingers toward our folk down here. We don't need the added scrutiny. If you continue with this bloodsport the way you are, they'll only double Enforcer patrols and make my work more difficult. I don't have time for that."

Enyo's face scrunches, her confusion only heightened. "What's the point in offering me a job, then? Why not just. . ."

"Kill you?" Silco supplies pensively. He leans forward, inching closer to her as he rests his glass on the table. "Well, it's because I see your potential."

She was definitely not expecting that. Her shock renders her silent, so he takes this as an invitation to keep elaborating and fill in the blanks for her.

"You leave no trace of yourself," he says. "That's more than I can say for most of my men, even if you are sloppy and your kills are messy. So, make no mistake, there's still some refining to be done." He pauses to take a thoughtful drag from his cigar. "But the point is, you could prove very useful to me."

Enyo's at a complete loss for words. She stands and gapes stupidly, stunned into silence as everything he's saying to her rushes through her mind. Killing for vengeance is one thing, but being paid to kill whoever Silco deems worthy makes her stomach broil with nerves. Her morals may have been sanded down and eroded over the years, but that doesn't mean she's on board with being a hired gun for the man before her. Flashes of red sear her vision as she relives her crimes, her palms sweating in the place where Piltie blood had once stained. She doesn't know if she's ready to do that without thought.

   Though, at this point, she doesn't think that she has much of a choice.

"I'll have a job for you this time tomorrow. A test run, if you will," Silco announces, kicking back and rubbing his temple as if to remedy a migraine. "Don't disappoint me and you'll be paid fairly. Now, run along. You're dismissed."

Enyo hates that. She already feels like one of his lackeys, under his thumb without any rebuttals or voiceable opinions of her own. He's judge, jury and executioner in this story, dictator of her fate — he can have her locked up for murder if she doesn't meet his terms, or have her disposed of altogether. She also noticed how he seems to be letting her late rent pass him by, pulling on her strings with more than one factor to bend her to his will. It's obvious that she's being played and she hates how she has to just let it happen.

   Silco calls out after her as she crooks the door open with her foot, poised to slip through with no trace left of herself other than an imprint in all their memories. She stops, peering back at him through a thick curtain of crimson curls.

"This time tomorrow," he reminds her, reinforcing the instruction. "Don't be late."

She bites back the barbed comment on her tongue and slips through the cracks, melding into the background as she disappears from the room. Like smoke, she wisps away into nothingness under the guise of darkness. The shadows cloak her in familiarity as she pursues the path home.

   Enyo leaves with her mind an echo chamber that's reverberating his words, the door slamming in her wake, and that aforementioned bitterness begins to ebb upon her tongue.

AUTHORS NOTE

idek what i was yapping about in most of this chapter it was so all over the place, but i had a sudden burst of inspiration and want to procrastinate from revision soooo

ran my beloved ( we get three *silent* scenes of them in the background throughout the whole show )

STILL NO SEVIKA but i promise that i'm getting there, you won't be deprived for much longer my lovelies