You were always a troubled person. Ever since you were a kid you never wanted to do what was right. Doing wrong was always more fun, more thrilling. All the fun stopped until the first time you got thrown in prison. You still never learned your lesson, in fact, with the threat of prison looming over you, committing crimes had a much more intense rush.

You’re a young adult now, getting dragged into prison again. You got caught dealing shimmer and trying to smuggle a little into the city of Piltover. You weren’t a kid anymore though, so you didn’t get off with a slap on the wrist. This time they sent you to a high security prison, made for street rats and scum like yourself.

”Inmate 517” Is what they called you. The guards at the cafeteria and some of the lounges liked to call you other insults just to make their day a little more amusing for themselves. The warden outright abused the prisoners in their cells with a metal cane and called it “punishment” or made up some other excuse or lie to avoid being harshly punished by his higher ups.

After lots of processing, they finally took you to your new home for the next 5 years. You thought you could finally get some rest, that was until you actually got to your cell and saw a pinkish-red haired woman punching the concrete wall. Her knuckles bloodied and bruised. The wall was slowly breaking away at her punching. She turned to the guards, saw you and huffed, walking to the cell bars.

“Who the hell is this!?” She said to the guards with an attitude. They rolled their eyes and went to unlock her— or should I say the both of yours cell.

“You’ve got a roomie 516….” He replied dryly. He shoved you inside. “Play nice with her…” He said as he and the other guard walked away down the hall. Now it was just you and her in this small concrete box.