Chapter Text
Professor Heimerdinger gave a distinct look of disapproval to the senior standing next to Caitlyn, but said nothing. Marcus hadn’t done anything wrong- per say- he wasn’t at all like the criminals both students were studying. But he was a bit careless, and more than a bit arrogant. Well, if Heimerdinger wasn’t going to say something, Caitlyn would.
Caitlyn nudged Marcus gently with her elbow, trying not to draw too much attention. “You missed,” she said.
“What?” He barely glanced at her, eyes trained diligently on his notepad. It was hard to walk and take notes, but those are the consequences of a class with Professor Heimerdinger. Caitlyn was honestly sure they had spent more time in the field than in the classroom this semester. Her classmates were usually good about keeping their lecture hall clean, but out and about... well, this wasn’t the first time Caitlyn had caught classmates littering. Gum wrappers falling out of pockets. Dead markers left behind on benches. It wasn’t usually intentional, and yet…
“Your bottle, you missed the trash can.” Caitlyn explained politely. Marcus looked over his shoulder at the crumpled plastic he had violently squished before aimlessly throwing it over his shoulder.
“Oh, whoops”, Marcus said, but made no bother to pick up his waste. There it sat- just barely next to the trash. Piltover had spent so much money to make the city walkable, to keep it clean. Trash cans were available on every block, trees on every corner to keep the air fresh and the temperatures down. Not only did their city have a reputation to uphold, being named after, and home of the prestigious Ivy League Piltover University, but it was also just respectful? To nature, to the environment, and to the people who lived and worked here. Caitlyn knew that most tourists, and residents, could pick out a crowd of Piltover students from a mile away. They were the elite few, and constantly watched because of it.
Right now, with Marcus presenting himself and the entire student body as utter assholes, Caitlyn felt viewed. Before Heimerdinger moved on she crouched low, picked up the plastic bottle, and placed it in its appropriate bin.
Marcus caught her action out of the corner of his eye, and huffed. “Did it really bother you that much?” he asked Caitlyn. He sounded amused by the idea.
Caitlyn just rolled her eyes, and pulled her jacket and her note book closer to her body, focusing her ears on Heimerdinger. Usually Heimerdinger’s classes were her favorite, but today the cold wind buzzed in her ears. April had decided to give a nasty little switch up, and though it had been shorts-weather a week ago, today she was aching for thicker layers. It would be best to get back to her dorm soon, for a different jacket, one through which she might not be able to feel the eyes of the public.
A secondary requirement of her jacket was that it must be acceptable for lunch with her mother. That meant that it must be nice, classy, and not too over-stated. Or, as councilwoman Cassandra Kiramman might call it, garish. Caitlyn often had lunch with her mother, and sometimes her father was there. Both were Piltover University graduates, and her mother had stayed on campus working in public relations until she eventually made it up the chain of command to work as a council member for the university. Caitlyn’s father, Tobias, worked at a local hospital as a surgeon.
“Mom, do we have any clean up services on campus?” Caitlyn asked as she pushed her raven blue hair behind her ear, eyes still trained on the menu in front of her. She was wearing a smart dark blue jacket with gold lining.
Councilwoman Kiramman looked up with the same sharp blue eyes Caitlyn had inherited. “You know you can always call the service center, Caitlyn. Even though you are in an apartment this year it's still technically university housing, they are obliged to offer you necessary services.”
“No, that’s not-” Caitlyn bit her tongue, and then remembered that the light had been flickering on her porch all week. “Thank you, that is helpful- but not what I meant. I’ve been thinking about doing my part for the community. Volunteering some hours at a local organization.”
Councilwoman Kiramman smiled, something both kind and condescending. “Honey, you do plenty for your community. You’re so involved on campus, you’re on track to be valedictorian, and once you graduate you will be able to do so much more. You’ll catch all the criminals, you will keep our community safe. That’s more than enough service, I don’t want you burning yourself out.”
She was so reasonable. So understanding. So supportive and yet-
“I want to,” Caitlyn reaffirmed. “It’s important to me, and anyways, Piltover involvement in the community is great for our reputation.”
“You don’t have to bargain with me, Caitlyn.” Councilwoman Kiramman had a teasing look in those light blue eyes, it’s enough to make Caitlyn feel silly, and defensive of herself all over again. She loved her mother, her mother loved her, and yet even at 21, Caitlyn always seemed to feel like a child beside her. It’s not a feeling she’s fond of.
Holding Caitlyn’s gaze with those calculating blue eyes, Councilwoman Kiramman continues to smile. Tight lipped. After a lengthened second, she speaks. “Well, you are in luck. I was contacted by an organization called the Firelights Nature Cleanup last week. They are a small local clean up group focused on getting the community to service itself. They do a lot of good work, and it seems to me that your interests overlap directly. I’m sure it would be a very educational experience.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Caitlyn thanked her mother.
As it turns out, the Firelights bus stops in the town square every Saturday morning at 7am, and returns back at 2pm. All Caitlyn has to do is get on it and not complain if she is soaked, dirty, and smelly by the time she gets home. Councilwoman Kiramman seems concerned about that, Caitlyn less so. Still, she is prepared for the worst come Saturday morning. She’s wearing insulated rain boots, a fashionable rain jacket, and she has a satchel with anything and everything she might need. Packed lunch, bug spray, heating packets, sun screen, and heavy weight working gloves.
She brings extra gloves, and she finds an Instagram page for the Firelights. She posts the event on her story, and watches as likes and loves fly through, complimenting her on her commitment to the betterment of humankind. Something like that. She doesn’t care- not really, but she’s hoping advertisement of the event will encourage students like Marcus to join.
Standing in front of the bus is a woman with a sign up sheet, and Caitlyn dutifully puts down her name, email, and drop off spot. She waits on the stairs of the bus, just for a moment, looking over her shoulder.
“Any other Pilties coming?”
“Excuse me?” Caitlyn whirls to look at the woman driving the bus. She’s not- well she’s not really offended, more confused, it’s not a term she’s really heard before.
“We don’t get a lot of Piltover students. Just want to know if I can close the doors.”
Caitlyn checks her phone. It’s 7:07am, and the bus is supposed to move onto its next stop. “I guess it’s just me,” she says, and moves to an available seat. The first thing she notices is the smell, dry and old and not identifiably unpleasant. Something about it makes her stomach curl. There aren’t a lot of people on the bus, and as they make a few more stops the volunteers seem to stick clear of Caitlyn, sitting instead with people they already know. Weather worn shirts, easy smiles, familiar jokes. People who aren’t so clearly falling out of the nest.
Crossing her legs and pulling at the crisp sleeves of her jacket, Caitlyn looks out the window. Next time she’ll make someone come with her. Even though Jayce is busy all the time, working on his senior honors project, he can spare one Saturday. She’ll drag him out next time. He’s such a mountain of a man, charismatic and extroverted, that Caitlyn is sure he would win this crowd over in no time. This is what Caitlyn is thinking about right before a mountain of a woman climbs on board.
“Is this seat taken?” she asks gruffly. Straight dark hair is pulled half up, and her tan skin is scarred. Her mouth pinned permanently in a downward expression.
“No. No you can sit, I’m Caitlyn.” Caitlyn waves, pushing her bag over to make more room.
“Sevika,” the woman grunts, and remains silent for the rest of the ride. Her only action is to place an unlit cigarette between her lips, holding it pensively, flipping it between her fingers as if contemplating a light.
When the bus finally comes to a stop it is just past 8am, and based on the sign they just passed they are only in Zaun, the city next to Piltover. Public transportation is exhausting. Time consuming. Draining . If only-
As Caitlyn waits for Sevika to move, so that she can get off this god forsaken bus, she sees it. Gliding into the parking lot, skidding to a graceful stop, is a woman on a black motorcycle. She’s strong, Caitlyn can tell just from the way her red jacket shifts across her shoulders. Fingerless gloves grip the handlebars, spiky rose red hair hides underneath her helmet. The woman runs a hand through her hair absentmindedly as she dismounts and rests the helmet under her arm. Just for a second she looks at the bus, and her eyes skid past Caitlyn. Skid, as in halt. Just briefly. Just for a moment. It is in that millisecond that Caitlyn knows she has been seen.
She’s unsure what to do with this information. She does the only thing she can, which is to leave her smelly seat when Sevika finally moves, flee the bus, and stand awkwardly to the back of the crowd as the woman with the clipboard climbs onto a bench. She claps three times, and the muttering of the crowd dies out. The woman clears her throat, and speaks:
“We have a big group today, but that’s perfect because we have a big project. For the next few weeks we’re going to be taking on the Arcane River. Downstream from big cities like Piltover, a lot of trash ends up getting dumped or washed down here. Like usual, we’ll be working in groups of three, remember to keep an eye on your buddies. You won’t get any credit for this if you just stand around doing nothing.”
That’s fine. Caitlyn won’t have that problem. Not with the work anyways- but she wasn’t prepared for the social group aspect. Sliding into a group full of strangers who all know each other seems like a dreadful time, and before she’s even done a full survey of her options the entire crowd has already teamed up. There are very few people left unclaimed, and the number is going down by the second. Her seat buddy, Sevika, remains, but something about her body language tells Caitlyn a team up would not be pleasant for anyone. Maybe that has something to do with the other loner of the group, the motorcycle redhead, who lifted her chin as she addressed Sevika with familiarity.
“Oh boy,” she said, “You and me, Sevika? This’ll go swimmingly”
Curling her lip in a sneer, Sevika turned around, and the only person Caitlyn vaguely knew is gone. She’s not sure it's a loss. The redhead lets out a huff of a laugh, a quirk of a smile on her lips, though there is no humor in her eyes.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, cupcake,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Caitlyn says, startled. She purses her lips, straightening her shoulders and extending her hand. “My name’s Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman. And you are…?”
“Vi,” the redhead points to her cheek. Sure enough, the letters VI are marked right below her left eye. Tattooed or makeup, Caitlyn has no idea, but the dark ink brings out a pale blue hidden within Vi’s gray eyes. “Looks like we’re going to have to keep an eye on each other. Anything I should be worried about?”
“Not a thing,” Caitlyn affirmed, “not from me. Should I- should I be worried about you?”
“Oh nah,” Vi said, “they know I’m a hard worker. You’re in good hands.”
“Ah.” Caitlyn said, and tightened her grip around the straps of her backpack. “Then shall we…”
With a half bow, and one hand extended to gesture for direction, Vi said “After you,” and together the two women picked through the park to the water's edge. It wasn’t quite boating season, but in the summer Caitlyn knew that vessels big and small frequented the Arcane River. When she moved into her apartment last spring she had been delighted with a view of the river which lay at the edge of Piltover, but come summer’s unbearable heat the sound of motors and obnoxious splashing had been all but impossible to tune out. Only at night had she been able to appreciate the peace the water offered.
Never had she looked at the inky black surface and assumed trash was laying underneath it.
“Snap to it, then,” Caitlyn muttered to herself, and got to work.
Vi liked to chat, and she liked to get her hands dirty. Even when Caitlyn offered her an extra pair of gloves, her fellow volunteer just grinned wide and dug her hands straight into the muck.
“There could be glass in there,” Caitlyn protested, but Vi simply shrugged and placed a muddied Skittles wrapper in the plastic bags. Two bags had been provided for the duo: one for trash, one for recycling. Despite only being a duo, not a trio, Caitlyn and Vi seemed to fill their bags more quickly than anyone else, having to go back more than once to drop off and get additional bags. While Vi focused mainly on large pieces of trash littered and wedged in the oddest of places, Caitlyn worked on getting the remaining miscellaneous pieces of trash. Shredded styrofoam. Bottle caps. Nips.
“I don’t want to know what this is doing out here,” Caitlyn said after picking up an alarmingly fresh -if one could call it that- tampon out of a bush.
“Desperate times, desperate measures,” Vi laughed as she shook her head. There was a still healing split in her upper lip, and when she grinned too wide the scab started to crack. The healing wound transformed what would have been a broad smile into a sly smirk, quirking up at the corners as she laughed at the tampon dangling in Caitlyn’s hands.
Caitlyn could only shake her head, wrinkling her nose as she discarded the tampon within the trash bag.
“So what brings you here, cupcake?” Vi said, her back turned while she spoke.
“It’s Caitlyn,” Caitlyn reminded.
Vi looks over her shoulder with that cracked grin. “But you’re so sweet, like a cupcake.”
“I-” Something clenched within Caitlyn’s gut. How is she supposed to respond to that? Nevermind. “I was disappointed with my peers' general lack of consideration for the environment. My mother recommended this group, after I told her I was looking for a volunteering experience. I had hoped my peers would follow my lead, but alas- what?”
Vi had stopped sifting through the bushes, her shoulders still. Head bent down as if caught in consideration.
“Nothing,” she said, “just fits the bill. Shouldn’t be surprised I guess, but I thought maybe this was community service for getting wasted on your neighbor’s boat or some other rich kid stuff.”
“Why would you assume that of me? That I can’t just want to do service for my community?” Caitlyn asked. Vi hadn’t said it in an offensive way, more matter of fact. It bothered Caitlyn in the same way Marcus’s crumpled up bottle next to the trashcan had.
Vi shrugged. “We just don’t see a lot of Piltover kids around here. You lot are usually too wrapped up in your own asses.”
“I don’t appreciate your language,” Caitlyn snapped, but stopped herself before she could bite out anything else. Hard gray eyes met hers, as if waiting for Caitlyn to confirm what she already knew. To confirm that the preppy Ivy League girl with manicured nails and a jacket that matched her belt and her shoes could give a rats ass about anyone except those already inducted into her elite society. That she had never ridden public transportation before today and hoped to god she would never have to use it again.
“Is it that obvious that I’m from Piltover?” Caitlyn asked.
“Babygirl, you scream Piltie without even opening your mouth. But I won’t hold it against you, as long as you don’t lord it over me.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes at that, and glanced to the side. “I don’t lord over people. Trust me, if I was anybody’s lord you’d have that whole bus filled with Piltover kids so that we could make penance for how obnoxious we are.”
“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” Vi said, her eyes warm, and she turned back to the bush. After a moment of scratching her head, she turned back. “Hey, could you give me a hand with this? There’s a tire stuck in the mud; it must've been here for ages cause it's too wedged in for me to get out.”
Dropping the trash bag, Caitlyn leaned over to look where Vi was squatting. Sure enough, no matter how much the redhead pulled at the thick rubber crusted into the muck, it wouldn’t come out. Experimentally Caitlyn ran her fingers around the edge, looking for a hold to grip.
“Grab it here,” Vi guided her hand to the appropriate spot, “with both of us we can do it for sure,”
“Sure,” Caitlyn agreed, and on the count of three they ripped the tire from the ground with a satisfying POP! Vi and Caitlyn were ripped from the ground too.
For just a second Caitlyn was flying, the freed tire floating above her, before her back hit the ground, the mud, with a definite slam. Wind knocked from her lungs. While Caitlyn struggled to regain her breath she turned and stared at the redheaded woman strewn beside her. Vi had lifted herself up on her elbows and was looking at Caitlyn with a dumbfounded grin covering her face, her red jacket smeared with mud and Caitlyn, no doubt, in a similar state.
“God,” Vi said, “I hope I didn’t land on another tampon,”
Caitlyn had nothing else to do, so she laughed. “Ugh god, me too.” She tried to wipe sweat, or hair from her face, but only succeeded in smearing the mud from her gloves onto her forehead.
“I got it,” Vi said, and licked her thumb before brushing it across Caitlyn’s brow.
“Gross,” Caitlyn pulled away. It wasn’t until they were both standing, hauling their bags and the tire back to the main group that Caitlyn realized the warmth still staining her ears was a blush. It wasn’t until Vi walked ahead of Caitlyn, tire lugged over her shoulder and warm April sun reflecting off her hair, that Caitlyn realized what she had assumed was a rustic red undertone was actually a deep rosy pink.
“Good job ladies,” said the woman with the clipboard, impressed by their haul.
“Yeah yeah, don’t I always do good work for you? You should know better than to be surprised,” Vi said. From out of her pocket, one not stained with mud, she grabbed a little folded paper and handed it to the woman, watching patiently as she signed it.
“Sure do, you little criminal,” said the woman. Instantly Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. Strange term of endearment. Strange term of endearment, unless-
“Do I have to get something signed?” she asked Vi as the woman handed back the slip, and Vi folded it carefully again in her pocket.
“Aw, not you, cupcake,” Vi said. “You only need an hours sheet if the government legally mandates it.”