On the night streets, Vi led her crew toward a tavern in the distance.
The street here was brightly lit, a stark contrast to the pitch-black alleys surrounding it. It was teeming with people, the haggard faces of passersby revealing a strange excitement as they occasionally lifted bottles to their lips for a drink.
When they saw a group in uniform attire—clothes emblazoned with the Blue Bird symbol—approaching from the distance, they quickly parted to make a path. These people looked like trouble, carrying weapons marked with pink and blue graffiti. It reminded them of a certain little lunatic.
Vi stopped in front of the tavern, her group blocking the entrance. She paused, running through the plan one last time.
After the main meeting, Graves, as the director of the "Take Down Smychy" operation, informed everyone to get their respective divisions in order and return in half an hour for a quick briefing. With that, he left to assemble his men.
Half an hour later, the leaders of the "combat" divisions were all present, and Graves began the meeting.
First, Graves declared that since they had decided to hit the Chem-Baron, there was no need to wait until morning. They would finalize the battle plan now and move out immediately to crush them.
Next, Twisted Fate presented the detailed intelligence. His men rolled out a whiteboard and a map, confirming Smychy's three key strongholds. The Baron was highly likely to be at one of them tonight.
Graves made the call instantly: the most important and most heavily defended location, the factory, he would take care of himself. He didn't rush to assign the remaining strongholds, wanting to hear the others' opinions.
Vi chose the tavern, perhaps reminded of the place she grew up in. It was the largest distribution point for Smychy's addictive Shimmer-wine.
Fizz chose the remaining location, the wharf; he was familiar with fighting near the sea. Since the Marine Security Division consisted of only him, Graves offered to lend him some men. Fizz refused, stating that he could handle it alone.
Graves didn't question it. As old Bilgewater dogs, he and Twisted Fate knew exactly what the legends of the Tidal Trickster meant. Still, Twisted Fate suggested that his intel agents, who had some combat ability, could be positioned around the wharf to prevent anyone from escaping. The frontal assault would be left to Fizz. After a moment's thought, Fizz accepted his friend's kind offer.
Finally, Twisted Fate remembered something else. If Smychy wasn't at any of the three strongholds tonight, he was most likely in his office, which was lightly guarded.
Graves turned to Arthur, who was standing beside him, and instructed him to take a few skilled fighters and lie in wait there.
The plan was set. Everyone would move once Graves began his assault. He would set off a "big firework" that no one could miss.
A bouncer guarding the tavern approached Vi. "What do you want, little girl? If you're buying a drink, get inside. If not, get lost! You blocking the door looking for a good time?"
Three or four more bouncers emerged, brandishing weapons and eyeing Vi's crew with malice.
BOOM! A massive explosion erupted in the distance, sending a tremor through the ground and launching a giant fireball into the sky. The bouncers stared, dumbfounded. That was the location of their largest factory stronghold!
Seeing the fireball ascend, Vi grinned. She offered a blessing to the bouncer in front of her.
"May the Wind Mother protect you."
The words had barely left her lips before Vi, gauntlet flashing, drove a heavy fist into his chest. He was sent flying over ten meters, smashing through the tavern's main doors and soaring through the air until the bar itself finally stopped his momentum.
Several of Vi's crew broke off, taking down the remaining bouncers outside with a flurry of decisive blows. The rest charged into the tavern after her.
The patrons inside immediately scattered, fleeing in every direction. Only one person remained: a girl in a blue jacket, her green hair tied into two buns, occasionally sparking with electricity.
The girl's eyes were shining as she watched the scene unfold with excitement. "It's started! It's really started! A new power in Zaun is waging war on the Chem-Barons!"
She paced back and forth. "Should I go in and help? Of course, I have to help! But can I bring myself to kill them? If I can't, will I just get in Sister Vi's way?"
After a moment, her indecision vanished. She squared her shoulders and stepped toward the tavern.
Inside, Vi was showing the Chem-Baron's thugs the true meaning of violence.
She ducked under a swinging bat, her left hand delivering a vicious kidney punch that sent her attacker crashing to the ground, twitching.
A left hook, then a right, sent several more bouncers sprawling. The last enemy standing beside her lunged, stabbing a knife straight at her face.
Vi twisted her body to the left, dodging the blade. Using the momentum of the turn, she spun back around, slamming her left elbow into the back of her opponent's head. Before he could fall, she grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him toward her.
Grabbing his head with both hands, she straightened his posture and slammed it downwards, simultaneously driving her right knee up with brutal force. It connected with his face with a sickening CRACK. The man's arms fell limp at his sides. He was finished.
Advancing to the bar, Vi paused. She looked down at her first victim, who was lying in a heap, his leg still twitching uncontrollably. She finished the blessing she had started earlier:
"...protect you from being beaten to death by me!"
Five minutes earlier.
Graves and his men arrived at the factory gates. He made no attempt at stealth, walking straight up and knocking on the door.
"Open up! Utility inspection!"
"Inspect your mother! Do you know who—" BANG!
The goon who had opened the door to curse at him was thrown backward, a new hole in his chest. Graves kicked the door in. With a wave of his hand, several of his men peeled off from the group behind him and moved to plant explosives at designated locations.
The factory's armed guards rushed toward the intruders, and a massive firefight erupted.
Aside from Graves, who was dropping enemies with single shots, every member of the assault team was armed with custom-made firearms that were clearly a cut above the second-hand junk brought back from Bilgewater. Nor were they the typical scrap-guns of Zaun. Only a few members had strangely shaped, graffiti-covered sidearms tucked into the back of their belts.
The men who had planted the charges fell back. At Graves's signal, the explosives were detonated. A pillar of fire tore through the area in front of them, and the violent shockwave sent the Chem-Baron's men diving for cover.
Ignoring the danger around him, Graves charged forward with a booming laugh.
BOOM! The distant fireball shot into the sky. At the wharf stronghold, a man with a scarred face snapped out of his stupor and yelled for everyone to grab their weapons and go provide support.
When he got no response, he turned around. His companions were all lying in pools of their own blood. Thud. He looked again. A poor soul who had just emerged from the barracks collapsed to the ground. Standing over him was a small, monster-like creature holding a trident.
BANG! BANG BANG! A furious volley of gunfire erupted as more of his comrades converged on the little monster, shooting at it.
The creature didn't seem to dodge. It simply charged, moving with such ferocious speed that the bullets only hit its afterimage. With every swing of its trident, his companions fell in droves. Soon, only he was left standing.
The little monster turned its head and smiled, its face and the corner of its mouth splattered with someone else's blood. The flickering firelight from the distant explosion, combined with the silence and the field of corpses, was enough to drive Scarface mad.
Clang. His pistol fell from his hand. The sound brought him back to his senses. He turned and fled, not caring about the stronghold, panicked screams tearing from his throat. He reached a small boat, untied the rope, and began to row away frantically.
BANG BANG BANG! Gunshots rang out from the wharf again. Fizz watched Scarface flee toward the open sea but paid him no mind, turning to charge at the remaining enemies instead.
"Hah... hah..." His chest heaving like a broken bellows, Scarface managed to regain a sliver of composure. He looked back at the now-silent wharf, and the fear in his heart swelled once more.
He grabbed the oar, desperate to escape, but then he felt a tremor in the water. WHOOSH! A giant shark erupted from the sea, crashing down upon him.
For a split second, time seemed to stop. Scarface could clearly see the shark's immense size and terrifying form, its body covered in colorful, glowing armored scales.
Then time resumed. The shark opened its massive jaws and bit the small boat to pieces, with Scarface still inside. The creature sank back into the depths, leaving behind only the splintered wreckage of the boat and a small patch of blood-stained sea.
In his office, Baron Smychy stood by the window, staring in shock at the firelight from the distant factory.
Before his rage could ignite and he could summon his men, he heard gunshots erupt from outside his office.
BAM! A subordinate burst through the door. "Boss, we've got assassins!"
Smychy intended to lead a counterattack with his personal guards, but when the gunshots stopped, replaced by the sound of steady, approaching footsteps, he listened to his subordinate's advice and opted for a "strategic retreat."
CRASH! Smychy's group shattered the window and jumped to the ground below. Several were shot and fell before they even landed. There was an ambush here too!
Smychy extended his right mechanical arm. Three long spikes shot out and began to spin, forming a shield that deflected the incoming bullets. His men charged forward, clutching their own mechanical arms, but they were cut down one by one. The gunshots stopped. They were reloading.
Smychy crouched, his four mechanical limbs digging into the ground. His legs tensed and then launched him forward with incredible speed. Before the men ahead could react, he was upon them.
Long spikes and blades shot out from his mechanical arms, slashing several of them. Smychy stopped, about to turn back and finish them off, but he heard footsteps coming from the building he'd just fled. He immediately broke away and disappeared into the night.
Reaching an alley, Smychy spun around and looked back. "I don't care who you are, I'll find you! You're dead!"
PING! His top hat was shot clean off his head. Terrified, he whipped around and saw a man across the way, holding a revolver.
"That shot announces my arrival."
"You... you're... Arthur Morgan?! Why are you here?"
His brief surprise gave way to grim resolve. Smychy dropped to all fours and charged at Arthur. It was time to fight for his life.
He was a third faster than before. One moment he was running on the ground, the next he was leaping onto the walls, constantly changing his position.
BANG! BANG! BANG! As the three shots rang out, Smychy closed the distance, his arms spread wide, spikes spinning as he lunged at Arthur with a savage snarl.
At that moment, Arthur looked at the charging Chem-Baron, then at the revolver in his hand. He remembered that day, after training had ended. He had returned to his room and was just about to lie down and rest when Jinx dropped down from above, startling him.
The girl had been hiding in the rafters. She jumped down holding a gift box. Inside was this very revolver.
It was custom-made just for him. Jinx had even told him that after the Hex-gem was finished, she would make him a Hextech revolver.
Every time Arthur looked at this gun, he could remember Jinx's smiling face.
BANG.
THUMP. The sound of a heavy body hitting the ground.