Aftermath – Day 0 (Same Day)
Screams echoed through the streets, drawing curious and horrified civilians toward the hospital.
By the time they arrived, enforcers had already cordoned off the building.
Caution tape fluttered in the wind.
The windows were blacked out. Blood smeared the inside of the glass.
"Area's under investigation," one of the officers barked. "Step back."
No one was allowed to look inside.
No one could.
By nightfall, whispers filled the city.
A deadly disease, they said.
A sudden outbreak, they said.
Some claimed to have seen doctors foaming at the mouth.
Others swore they saw doctors turn on each other like animals.
The rumor didn't stay in Piltover. It drifted downward.
By midnight, even the undercity had heard of the "plague hospital."
⸻
Day 1 – The Truth Emerges
The next morning, Piltover awoke to find thick newspapers on every doorstep.
Black ink. Large, bolded font.
HEADLINE: HOSPITAL MASSACRE
"Doctors and Guards Slaughter Colleagues and Patients—53 Dead"
"Yesterday afternoon, a massacre erupted inside Piltover's 14th Ward General Hospital. According to investigators, several of the hospital's own medical staff and guards inexplicably turned on fellow doctors, nurses, and patients.
The death toll has reached 53. All known attackers died on-site."
"Authorities are still searching for answers.
Survivors will be questioned about the events of that day. One pressing question remains: why were there only seven enforcers at the hospital? Where were the others?
No evidence of foreign interference has been found.
The cause of the attack—and the motive—remain unknown."
"The hospital is under full lockdown and will remain closed until the investigation concludes.
Further details will be released in the coming days."
Reading the newspaper, Heimerdinger placed it down with a heavy sigh.
"This is quite the predicament," he murmured, brows furrowed beneath his tufts of white fur
"With enforcers stretched thin watching the undercity—and now our own hospital under siege…"
He looked around at the other Council members, the silence hanging like a stormcloud.
Mel tapped her fingers against the polished surface of the table.
"The morale of the people is low," she said. "They've lost faith in our ability to protect them.
Do we have any leads? Any indication of motive—or who orchestrated this?"
A beat of silence followed.
Councilor Cassandra Kiramman leaned forward, her face drawn with concern.
"None. No records of infiltration. No known dissident movements in that sector. Just blood, bodies… and confusion."
Heimerdinger's ears twitched as he spoke.
"I'll go to the hospital myself, see if there's anything I can do—anything they might've missed.
In the meantime, I propose we recall the enforcers from the undercity."
Councilor Salo scowled, raising a hand.
"With respect, Councilor, that's a risk we can't take. We need the enforcers there—for our own safety. If the undercity plans to retaliate—"
"For our own safety?" Mel cut in sharply.
"Did you see what happened at the hospital?" She leaned forward. "While I understand your caution, the under-city hasn't attempted revolt in years.
If we flood their streets with armed enforcers, we risk giving them a reason."
Salo opened his mouth, but Mel pressed on.
"The morale of our people is fragile. They're already asking why we've focused so much attention on the undercity—why their own safety was neglected while enforcers patrolled the under-city alleys instead of guarding our hospitals."
She let the words hang in the air for a moment, then continued.
"We cannot afford to alienate both sides. The people of Piltover are scared.
The people of the undercity are suspicious. If we act rashly, we'll lose control of both."
——————————————
Day 2 – Recall
Enforcers began pulling out of the under-city, their boots echoing through the narrow streets as they returned to topside.
The tension that had gripped the under-city like a vice finally started to ease—if only slightly.
Copies of Piltover's newspapers had trickled down through black market couriers and loose-lipped traders, and word of the hospital massacre was now everywhere.
Vander stood with a paper in hand, his eyes scanning the headline one last time before folding it in half. He turned to Benzo, voice low.
"If they hadn't left… I'm not sure how long it would've taken before the under-city snapped."
Benzo followed his gaze. Powder, Ekko, Vi, Claggor, and Mylo stood nearby, silently watching the enforcers vanish beyond the smoke-hazed skyline.
"You got lucky," Benzo muttered. "I was starting to think we'd have to fight again. But hey—" he lifted a bottle and took a swig, "—let's forget that and drink."
Vander lit a cigarette, the match flaring briefly in the dim light.
"Luck won't always be on our side," he said quietly. "It'll run dry. Eventually."
Benzo took another drink and groaned. "Way to ruin my good mood."
————————
Powder, Ekko, Vi, Claggor, and Mylo stood nearby, watching as the last of the enforcers marched out of the under-city.
The tension in the air thinned with every step they took away.
"Finally," Ekko muttered, punching the air. "If they hadn't left sooner, I would've started fighting."
Powder burst out laughing. "Yeah, sure you would, little man."
Claggor smirked. "He's got a mean swing. Maybe he'd knock 'em all out and have 'em begging for mercy."
"Right," Mylo added with a grin. "Ekko the Enforcer Slayer. They'd be running topside in no time."
Claggor and Mylo broke into laughter, the sound echoing off the metal and concrete.
Vi just stood there for a moment, watching them. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
For once, everything felt… normal.
————————
Day 3 – Mask
Another newspaper arrived on the doorsteps of Piltover residents.
Headline: Culprit?
"After a thorough investigation aided by Councilor Heimerdinger, authorities have begun piecing together the events of the hospital massacre."
"A surviving nurse reported that a masked child entered the hospital asking if she had seen his brother. When she said no, he ran deeper inside."
A missing persons poster of the alleged brother accompanied the article.
"Several witnesses saw the child enter an operating room. Based on physical evidence, Heimerdinger believes the child was under the influence of a potent drug."
"The boy had cuts on his hands—likely from a scalpel—and bruises consistent with restraint, suggesting he attacked medical staff in a frenzy."
"Heimerdinger suggests the drug may have been contagious, spreading through wounds or fluids, turning the doctors violent."
"Witnesses say two doctors stumbled from the operating room, coughing, before collapsing. Guards approached—then began firing wildly."
"Enforcers were called to contain the outbreak. All infected individuals died, either from violence or the drug's effects."
"Authorities now ask: how did the boy get exposed? His mother stated, 'He doesn't wear a mask. I don't know where he got it.'"
The newspaper displayed a photo of the mask the boy had worn during the incident.
Smeech held the paper up for the other chem-barons to see.
"This mask—look at it. It matches the description of the one worn by the guy who wiped out that organ trader base."
Silco arched an eyebrow. "If that's true, this could bring a lot of unwanted attention to the under-city."
Smeech gave a grim nod. "Exactly. So it's not just my problem anymore. That means you'll help me find him, right?"
Silco didn't answer right away. He took a drag from his cigarette, eyes scanning the mask on the newspaper, then glanced at the others in the room.
"If he's stirring this much chaos, we can't afford to ignore it," he said quietly. "We'll find him."
Smeech exhaled, tension still thick in his shoulders. Around the table, no one argued.
Whatever this was, it had just become everyone's problem.
————————————
In the dim glow of the lab, Crane sat hunched over a workbench, carefully mixing shimmer compounds.
A few feet away, Singed worked in silence at his own station, the clink of glass and faint hiss of chemicals the only sound between them.
Without warning, Singed walked over and dropped a folded newspaper onto Crane's workspace.
The sudden thud made Crane jolt upright. He glanced at the front page—and froze.
There it was: a grainy image of the scarecrow mask staring back at him.
"Ah," Crane muttered, eyes scanning the headline. "A newspaper."
Singed's voice cut through the air. "Why'd you do it?"
Crane didn't answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, shoulders slouched, a faint frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"It's the best I can do…" he said quietly.
—————————
When I die I don't want to go to an after life or anything, I kinda want to be a ghost and annoy people.
I like to annoy people.