Cupcake Wars

Somewhere beneath the Noxian city streets, where the rotten sewer ways, forbidden caves and makeshift black-magic labs resided, a lone assassin, Talon, set his eyes on what would, for a street-dweller, be considered high quality dining…

And there it was, looking as appetizing as ever. Talon’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. Of course, there was the trap to consider, but the temptation was far too strong to consider the risk.

‘Just a lonely, little cupcake, unguarded, and it’s all mine,’ he whispered, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. It all seemed so easy, but Talon’s better judgement dictated that it would have been wiser to vacate the premises altogether. However, having grown up on the merciless Noxian streets, he enjoyed high-risk situations. Plus, here was a high risk that, if handled with a proper aptitude, offered a significant reward. And so, he motioned ever closer to the delicious-looking pastry, all the while remaining cognisant of his immediate surroundings. There was always a chance that he'd wind up dead, another body for the gutter, but he was comfortable living with that risk.

Several carefully placed steps took him within inches of the treat, and he knelt down to greet it with open, leather-gloved hands. Upon closer inspection, the cupcake appeared to be positioned on a serrated device that seemed capable of disabling a large animal. ‘So much for a quick smash and grab,’ he muttered to himself. This operation was going to require some finesse. He reached for his Ionian lock-pick, a chrome implement that shone dully in the teal-green haze of the underground.

While scanning the device carefully for fail-safes, it became apparent that he was not alone, as indicated by the faint sounds of breathing that only one with refined Noxian sense could detect.

‘And just what do you intend to do with that?’ came a calm, female voice. Had the voice belonged to a Noxian, Talon would probably have been killed on the spot.

‘None of your business, lady,’ he snapped dryly. Quick wits forced his mind to flood with multiple fight-or-flight scenarios, but somewhere he also considered the origins of her accent. Piltover, he though, she might be a Sherriff.

‘You’re right,’ came her snarky reply, ‘it’s not.’ Talon turned around slowly, not expecting such a feisty response. What met his eyes when he did so was, for most, cause for panic. ‘This is my business,’ she asserted, and then proceeded to level her sizeable sniper-rifle with the fore of Talon’s skull. No sooner had she squeezed the trigger than Talon, snatching up the cupcake with a lightning motion, dove for cover. A barrage of lost sniper-fire immediately followed. Clearly unsatisfied with the outcome of the brief altercation, Caitlyn, Sherriff of Piltover, cursed, spat, and took chase after the no-good assassin. 

‘What an outright jerk!’ she exclaimed.

Sewers, while altogether not glamorous to begin with, were at an even lower standard of maintenance in Noxus. The claustrophobic terracrete walls, illuminated by neon-green trench-lamps placed at irregular intervals, were scarred with pressure fissures and rampant graffiti. All manner of refuse littered the ground, and Caitlyn, who was now trudging through the mess, did not even think to consider what it was made of. Luckily she was an expert in the matters of pursuit, and it soon became apparent to her what route the would-be assassin had taken. He had a wonderful bounty on his head, dead or alive, and it was not a bounty that Caitlyn would let go so easily.

Blindsided, before there was even time to think, Talon reached back for his blade, and discovered that it had fallen to the ground. He spun around and dodged another near miss, but no sooner had he done this than Caitlyn fired a well-aimed shot directed at his heart. Talon heaved forward, leaned to the right, and tumbled forward gracelessly. Into the shadows he went, with Cait hot on the trail. He knew that she would pursue him for some distance before getting discouraged, so it was not worth blowing his cover to make a quick escape. Silently he shifted along the slime-coated walls, careful not to disturb the small bundles of bones and clutter beneath his feet. She was close, he considered, but not close enough to detect his movements. The Noxian sewers may very well have been imprinted on the back of his hand, she wasn’t getting him today.

‘Sorry Cait, this cupcake is mine,’ he said, glaring happily at his newly acquired pastry. It had not been an easy catch, but it was due in part to Talon’s experience with lock-picking that he was able to circumvent Caitlyn’s traps, and go for the ultimate prize.

“Another Cupcake for my stomach,’ grunted Talon, grinning as he bit down, teeth slicing through the pink frosting like a daggers piercing cloth armor.

Little did he know, the cupcakes were of a special mixture. Having been baked by Morgana herself, these cupcakes were not lacking in the daily recommended dose of debilitating poison, and as Talon fell to the ground in a spasmadic fit of involuntary muscle contractions, Caitlyn, standing overhead, readied her special hand-cuffs. 

'Another bounty claimed,' she whispered proudly.