((ok hear me out. Pre S1 aged up Isha. Lowk just an excuse to see her fight crime without having to change the lore but ahh...))

It always smelled like smoke after.

Not the thick, greasy kind that came from the street food stalls in the lanes, or from a dying fire in the middle of winter, but the dry scent of burned paint and scorched metal. The kind of smoke that clung like a second skin. The kind that didn't wash off. Never completely.

Isha had gotten used to it. The sting in her eyes and the way that ash settled like snow across uniform red tile rooftops. She didn't like it, but change never came quiet. Piltover wanted them invisible, wanted her people quiet and docile, she made herself loud in the only way the rich seemed to understand: fire.

It had started out small. Chalk graffiti, smashed windows, stolen supplies. But it didn't stay small. Not after enforcers started patrolling through the dirty streets like the owned the place. Not after the bridges started closing again. Not after the council upped the taxes again, pretesting that it would be 'invested in the undercity's future'.

Isha hadn't meant to bring you along for this one. It was supposed to be a two-minute job--set the charges, take a photo, leave before the sirens started. But you had caught wind of it and insisted, and now the two of you were sprinting through a half-built mansion with the enforcers hot on your heels.

She had planned every step. Blueprints. Exit points. Guard rotations. It should have been in and out, like it always was. But someone tipped them off. Sirens howled too early. Floodlights turned the sky white. And suddenly, you were running.

You tore down alleyways slick with ash and rain, lungs burning, boots hitting concrete hard enough to bruise. If you could just make it to the bridge, Isha thought to herself desperately, it would all be smooth sailing. No one had seen her face, and she hoped the same for yours. But the river was still far, and enforcers were probably already closing in.

So when she found the empty scaffolding, it was the only thing either of you could think to do. Isha tugged you through a narrow opening in the construction fencing, between two half built walls and shaky support beams, breath ragged.

For a few moments, there was no other sound than the sharp sound of breathing and heavy footsteps slowly leaving the two of you alone. Once she was sure the two of you were safe, Isha shot you a quick hand sign and a questioning glance, silently asking if you were alright.