Chapter Text
It was beautiful.
You put the finishing touch on your masterpiece, your assignment made more than just a mission. The dislocated arm draped perfectly over the wires you had quickly weaved together, inwardly thanking that the setting was a factory. All your resources were at an arm's length - quite literally, now.
Stepping back, you bowed to your creation, the skylight of the building positioned just where you had expected, exactly where it was needed to cast a circle of light around your newest work.
Two legs from separate bodies potruded from the mass of mangled and tattered flesh as horns, a knife still lodged into one, the wound forming a puddle of blood on the ground that you had previously scrubbed so meticulously, having cleaned away weeks of machine residue and stray fragments.
Blood loss? Lost, how? It's right there.
The puddle melded with the stream of another, the jaw of your structure. The two bodies you had sawed the legs off of formed a horizontal arch, their arms meeting in the middle, chipped fingernails touching from spread-apart arms. The fangs were the aforementioned last additions, one arm for each side, their fingers catching the dusty sunlight, reaching out for help that would never arrive.
Above the arch rested a flayed skull, its eyes dug out by your own fingers. You remembered that man specifically; the one this whole mission of yours was sculpted after. You also remembered how he had told you, hands as oily as his voice, how your aroma was so enticing that he could almost see it. Hopefully, he'd be happy now with his sockets serving as nostrils.
Nostrils to your dragon.
Its own eyes the gaping severed throats of his fellow men, each more corrupted than the last, the torn vocal chords still nearly ringing with the screams that they had departed with.
Almost a dozen workers of this factory battered and beaten into this creature, a live made from lives taken.
Despite its gruesome nature, its gaping maw was more welcoming than fearful. At least, it would seem that way when found. After all, your previous finishing touch had been, well - underwhelming. You opened the satchel that you had found earlier nestled between crates, withdrawing a box of sorts. As expected, the inside held the owner's lunch.
You wrinkled your nose, the hot and musty atmosphere clearly not doing the food any favors. However, upon reluctantly sifting through it, you had just what you needed.
A quick moment passed, and upon viewing the finality of the dragon of your dreams - and everyone else's nightmares - you accepted that you had to part with it.
After all, every message needs delivering.
"It's an homage."
The Ionian officer shook his head, daring to take another step towards the mass of corpses, trying to avoid their glossed-over, pleading eyes. "Not an homage. It's a mockery."
"A mockery? You can't be serious. This is clearly his work, and if you dare say it's not, we know it's just an admirer. There's been two already just this spring," the other said exasperatedly, his stubborn tone smoothing over the ripples of his fear.
His colleague raised an eyebrow, directing his attention towards a certain portion of their discovery.
"Look, Pieter. Right there, in the hand. Whoever was here wrapped the fingers in a vegetable leaf - there's no possible way it couldn't have been deliberate, they even tied it using the man's own clothes."
"But, why? I know that this particular 'exhibit' doesn't quite fit our own guy's, but just because it makes less sense and is more messy doesn't mean-"
"No," the man interjected, ignoring the offense that his interruption had splattered across his partner's face. "It's not messy. Not at all. I think someone as foolish as you can tell that this is meant to be animal skull, which means that this is . . . ?"
Pieter grumbled before answering, "Teeth." The purpose finally hit him, his realization showing clear as day. "Goodness, Marcus. They wanted it to look like the leaf was stuck between its teeth."
Upon being responded with a nod, he continued, "It's not him - I'll admit it. But, then, what's the point? If their goal wasn't as to copy him, why take the time for- what'd you say? A mockery?"
"A mockery," affirmed Marcus, stepping back to meet Pieter's side. "It may have to do with the Noxian troops moving through this area. He was sent after one of them recently, and they might just be returning the favor."
The other officer sighed, fishing a cigarette from the box within his pocket and offering another to Marcus. "I can follow with the logic in that, at least. This is a bull, isn't it? A dragon, maybe?"
Pieter lit both cigarettes with a quick flick of his lighter, the both men taking a drag before he answered.
"Dragon. We call him the Golden Demon, but that sometimes gets lost in translation. Dragon, Devil, even Snake."
They continued discussing the possible background of the piece, their voices retreating behind the curtains of the steady trickle of factory waste running through the pipes.
From the second floor's railing, the snake hissed.