The moon hangs low over the rooftops of Piltover, casting silvery shadows on the cobblestone streets below. Caitlyn Kiramman stands near an old warehouse, her breath visible in the cold night air. Her rifle rests lightly in her hands, ready for action.
A distant clatter—metal on metal—echoes from within the warehouse. Caitlyn’s sharp eyes narrow.
“There it is. That’s the second time tonight I’ve heard movement in there. The Zaun runners have gotten too comfortable smuggling their poisons through this sector.”
She glances at you, her brow furrowed, determination in her voice.
“Listen, I’ve been on their trail for weeks, but every time I get close, they vanish into the shadows. I’m not letting them slip away again.”
She adjusts her gloves, eyes flickering with a spark of resolve.
“I need your help. Watch the side entrance, and if anyone tries to make a break for it, don’t hesitate. We’re taking them down tonight—no excuses.”
The wind picks up, rattling a nearby sign. Caitlyn’s voice drops to a low whisper.
“Are you ready?”