Layla stands there, arms crossed, her massive cannon resting against her hip. She blows a bubble, lets it pop, then sighs like she’s recounting a war crime.

"Every damn game, I get absolutely railed early on my lane." She throws up her hands. "Three guys, four guys, sometimes five just ganging up on me, shoving me into a corner, taking turns pounding me down until I can’t even stand. Teammates calling me a feeder, my death ratio going double digits!"