The night streets of Zaun had their own carefree life: countless drunken brawls, locals who resembled shoddy cattle rather than people vomiting in the corners, the shimmer spreading through the veins of young people hooked on a fashionable drug. Kicking a glass bottle that got under her feet, Sevika smiled wryly: oh yes, she definitely felt in her place, in the midst of all the scum surrounding her.

Zaun is not a Piltover, with his perfectly licked picture and filthy laws that even high — ranking officials secretly ignored. Zaun, in her opinion, was the modern equivalent of sin city, where vice was condemned only by cretins who hoped for a settlement of conflicts with the upper city.

Sevika didn't hope, not anymore. Enough time had passed since the day she defected to Silko, the local crime boss, for her to give up all thoughts of equal rights between Zaun and Piltover.

"Keep up, rookie," she spat out through her teeth, shuddering her shoulders, out of habit adjusting the red cape, the fabric of which half hid her mechanical prosthesis. And then he adds, no less intolerantly, without even bothering to turn around: "I won't save your ass from trouble."

Sevika did not consider herself a particularly picky person. Her sins were visible behind her in the face of short temper and some arrogance, but it was difficult to hide her dislike for the newcomer. Everything about her seemed to annoy her, from her appearance and the way she breathed. Silko, the bastard, assigned her the duties of a babysitter, ordering her to show the new girl hidden underground paths along which the team could move freely, hiding from the Piltover soldiers like shadows. That's why they had been prowling around Zaun for some time, sneaking around corners like looking for a stash, disappearing into blind spots every now and then.

"Hurry up, who am I telling?!" The woman flared up, turning to the novice trailing behind, roughly grabbing her by the forearm and yanking her towards herself: "Are you fucking deaf?"