Chapter Text
When you walked into the bar, it was completely empty. Odd, considering it was later in the afternoon. Though you had checked the sign out front several times, you began to doubt this was the right place.
’The Last Drop’.
That’s where you had been instructed to infiltrate. Sheriff Marcus had previously conducted his own investigation, but the results proved unsatisfactory for the Council.
The Sheriff didn’t know you were chosen for the job, in fact, you don’t think he even knew about the job itself. The Council wanted to keep everything as quiet as possible.
Which was a good thing in your mind, because the less people that knew you were a spy, the better, and the Sheriff had always been quite protective over you.
Not that he needed to be, you were chosen for this investigation for a reason.
“We’re closed.” A voice called out to you, and you looked towards the bar, where a man was wiping it down with a rag. He was dressed in casual work clothes, and you assumed he was the owner.
“Doesn’t say you’re closed outside.” You replied, eyeing him suspiciously. He sighed, before looking up at you, and replying. “We’re closed to anyone who isn’t a regular.”
That was peculiar, you thought. How would one become a regular here if they weren’t allowed in, in the first place?
“I’m here about the bartending job.”
He had stopped what he was doing, and leaned in to get a closer look at you. You nervously shifted where you stood.
“Too pretty.” He said simply, before moving back to cleaning the bar. You almost scoffed aloud, before moving further into the establishment.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The man looked about done with you. “You’re too pretty to be working here, love. You’ll get eaten alive.”
Now you wondered who exactly came into this bar. When you were briefed on the investigation, the documents had specified that The Last Drop was considered the “hub” of the lanes, but now you were learning they only allowed in very specific patrons.
“I have bartending experience.” You were cut off promptly by the man, who gave a short laugh. “What, in Piltover?”
“No.” You stared at the man intently now, who looked up. “Here in Zaun.”
Now he took another moment to analyze you. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. “I can serve drinks, I can clean, I can keep the peace and work whenever you need me to. I even have references.”
You reached into the bag that hung off your shoulder, taking out several pieces of paper and walking closer to the bar to hand it to the man. He took them reluctantly, and gave them a once over.
“You worked up in the Promenade, eh?” He was referring to the upper level of the Undercity, an area where those from Piltover were welcome, if only so they would spend their money at the many restaurants, bars, clubs and other businesses open there.
“At a few bars. I know how to handle myself.” You told him, gesturing to the other papers in his hand, which he then also took a brief look at, before turning his attention back to you.
“You know how to use a gun?”
You didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”
He thought on it for a moment more, looking down at the doctored references in his hands.
“You’ll start tonight, then.”
Now, two hours into your first shift at The Last Drop, you had begun to realize just exactly what kind of people were allowed in. Guns for hire, Zaun’s most important businessmen, and even businessmen from Piltover.
They all eyed you suspiciously, though you acted completely unaware. In fact, you had gotten friendly with a few burly men that sat at the bar that seemed to think you were alright.
You also realized why it had been empty in the afternoon.
The patrons had only started to swarm in at around eight, after work hours. Now, most of the booths and tables were full, and a rowdy group were playing a game of pool.
It was busy enough to keep you moving constantly, though luckily not busy enough to have you overwhelmed. The man who had hired you, who’s name you now knew to be Charlie, was also there to help serve the patrons.
When one of the customers sat at a booth started huffing a purple substance, Charlie had immediately kicked them out. “You know the rules, mate, no shimmer allowed!”
You had been briefed very little on shimmer, a drug that was either inhaled or drunk as a liquid, with varying results. You had heard of the physical affects of the substance, but it seemed as though inhaling it gave the user a high that was distinct from the supposed healing benefits.
Either way, you knew to steer clear of the stuff.
It had only quietened for a moment when two new figures walked into the bar, before the noise picked up again. You curiously looked over as you handed a patron their drink, and immediately recognized the man as Silco.
He was your target.
He wore a heavy black jacket, with a red accent around the collar. Underneath, a maroon colored shirt, and a black vest outlined in gold sat on top. He wore black dress pants that fit him comfortably, and black boots detailed in more gold.
You considered that he dressed so extravagantly because he didn’t have the need to hide. He apparently ran this city, after all, although that point had been questioned in your brief.
Just how involved was this Silco in the robberies that took place in Piltover last month? That’s what you had been sent to find out.
Beside him was a woman, and it took you a moment to realize she was the “right hand man” that the brief had detailed. The picture they had of her must have been old, because now under a red cloak, she was sporting a large metal arm.
Before you knew it, they were heading towards the bar. You attempted to make yourself look busy by picking up some of the empty glasses in front of you and taking them to the sink.
When you passed Charlie, he briefly whispered to you. “Whatever he wants, it’s on the house.”
You nodded, placing the empty glasses in the sink, before turning back to your spot at the bar.
Silco approached, and said something to the woman beside him, who then nodded and moved towards one the booths, loudly greeting the men that sat there.
“Whiskey.” Silco said simply in your direction, though his eyes failed to meet yours.
You quickly moved to get a new glass, before he spoke again. “Just the bottle.”
You hesitated for a moment, before grabbing one of the unopened bottles and placing it in front of him. Only then did he look up at you, and you almost took a step back in shock.
You knew about his eye, but the way it was trained on you now, nothing could have prepared you for that.
He watched you for a moment more, as though he was analyzing you, and a feeling of dread washed over you. You hadn’t expected to meet him so soon, and now you wondered if accepting this job had been a horrible mistake.
You had expected him to ask who you were, or dismiss you completely, but you hadn’t expected what came from his mouth instead.
“Are you a whore?”
Your breath stuck in your throat, and you couldn’t help the look of surprise on your face. He still watched you, his expression unreadable.
As he picked up the bottle, he spoke again. “If you’re not, you’re in the wrong place.”
With that he walked past the bar, and up the stairs beside it.
You wondered now, what exactly had you gotten yourself into?