Archive of Our Own

The twist of fog along the ocean’s surface gave an ominous chill down the former enforcer’s spine. Her fingers pressed against the wall, staring out the barred window as the Chief Warden left for the files, she demanded. Caitlyn made no word to express the fact they had fired her. Why would Stillwater be informed of her expulsion from the police force? No, she could use this to her advantage for now, getting what she needed before they knew she wasn’t one. However, she found it humorous that they didn’t ask her for any proof of her position. Was Stillwater this formidable that the warden didn’t expect someone to be an enforcer? What made the walls of Stillwater so terrifying that they didn’t expect someone to pretend to be an enforcer?

Or perhaps these dark walls knew that it didn’t matter who came in. The secrets within the red stones not even she was aware of. Caitlyn gripped her journal within her hand as the heavy mammal stomps of the Warden caused her to turn around and held the files in hand. “I’m tellin’ ya, you got a death wish gold bar,” the warden taunted Caitlyn, a little huff on his lips as he passed over the files.

“I can handle myself, but thank you for the warning,” a chuff came as he pressed his cane down against the ground. “Suit yer’self,” it echoed like a bell, a warning to anyone who heard him coming. Slow and steady of a sound, but anyone near with a set of ears would know the warden was coming. She pulled the files against her chest guardedly and left the main hall toward one of the spare rooms where she could sit and talk. Yet the echoes of other wardens chuckled from behind her, and she listened to their words as she stepped away.

“What do you think, Derrick? I think Pink’s gunna have fun with this one,” The Baritone voice caught Caitlyn’s ear as she turned her eyes slightly while she kept walking. “Oh, Pink’s gunna take her hand if she gets too close,” the laughter of the breathy unpleasant voice of the man named Derrick spoke. “No, no, I think Pink’s gunna sink her teeth into her neck. You know, one snap and she’s dead. She won’t survive the rite of passage.” Whoever the baritone voice’s name was, it sent a shiver down her spine at how they talked. It was a game! Caitlyn twisted her head away, but not before she heard the last words as she opened up the door.

“Ten gold coins and you’re on Derrick. My gold is on the newbie lasting five minutes before she’s killed,” Caitlyn immediately shut the door behind herself as she pressed her back up against the wall.

“What the hell?” Caitlyn whispered, feeling less like an enforcer and a tool for entertainment suddenly. Would they not even help a fellow enforcer in danger here? The more she stayed, the more the walls closed in around her, the red lights of death sizzling in the air as Caitlyn moved to sit down and opened up the files. Settling down at the table, Caitlyn opened up the file and her manicured fingernail started to run over the first file.

The first thing that confused her was the box for Name. It said unknown, with a little mark off to the side.

Nicknamed: Pink.

“They can’t even figure out her name?” But then even more confusion lingered on Caitlyn’s mind as she flipped open her journal. Her finger brushed along the lines, reading about the prisoner number, date of incarceration, but several information was missing. Immediately Caitlyn’s hand started to write down notes.

Caitlyn pressed the pen up against her lips, tapping it several times, looking confused. To know that someone at the age of near fifteen could be imprisoned in Stillwater caused her to pause. “Piltover would never imprison a child,” or, in her mind, they would never imprison a Piltovan child. However, it was clear they did not hold the same regard for an Undercity child. Flipping the page, she started to read several pieces of paperwork. Many of them involved attempted escapes, insolence, and refusing to comply. Her eyes fixed on several common things, which she started to write down.

Her eyes continued to read over each paper, filling through. It didn’t cease to end. Escape attempts, attempted murders, and files of charges of murder. It wasn’t just once or twice; it happened again and again. Battery and assault, constant high levels of misconduct. Caitlyn’s hand brushed over her mouth, letting her fingernail brush against her lip as she took a breath. This level of danger was new to the former enforcer. Caitlyn couldn’t deny the hint of trepidation pressing against her brow, as she flipped page by page, looking upon each new bit of information; but also the similar actions. How many murder attempts did she have that hadn’t found their way into the files? Eyes flicked back and forth as she took a small breath and closed the file.

Instead of returning the file, she had plans to keep it. She finished all of her notes in her journal as she realized her leg was rapidly tapping with each second. The nervous stim rang like a constant bell in her ear as she slowly took a breath. “Easy, Caitlyn. All you have to do is ask her some questions. She’s your only option and she might know something that you don’t know about.” It seemed unlikely the girl had been in her for so long. Did she know anything? The worst probable answer she could get was no. Fingers reached into the folder and pulled out the picture. Pink had dark red hair, not pink. Perhaps it was pink when she arrived, but if she’s been in Stillwater, there was very little time in the light. Without the sunlight, her hair would be darker from the chemical effects. Green eyes like those of freshly blossomed leaves glared through the photo. Red hair flicked to the left side, overshadowing her right eye. Scars against her left eyebrow and lip. Yet something told Caitlyn that there were far more internal scars than the outer.

The photo slipped easily into her journal, keeping it for herself, and she folded the rest of the files into her journal. After an hour of overlooking the file and taking in everything she needed about Pink, it was time for a visitation. The sneer from outside caused her eyes to flick toward a couple of wardens, the same two who had been betting on whether she would survive. A hand held out toward the other warden with a smirk on his lips and Caitlyn walked by them toward the elevator, but instead of ignoring she decided to turn her eyes on them.

Brows narrowed down against her forehead and her eyes darkened to the dark blue of the deep ocean untraveled by humans. Deliberately, her teeth flashed from around her lips and they could hear a subtle growl underneath her lips. Both of them froze and pulled back in shock. For a Piltovan to make such a savage noise from within the depth of her throat was enough to cause the two guards to become skittish, like a pair of wildebeest away from their herd. The moment Caitlyn was out of their sight, all she could do was smile. “What the hell is wrong with that one, Geralt?” The one named Derrick questioned his associate and Caitlyn could hear the last conversation as she pressed the button. “I don’t know, but something isn’t right with her. Come on, let’s go do our patrol. I prefer the animals behind bars, easier to poke,” Geralt claimed as the two of them pivoted down the hall, startled by their fellow Piltovan acting unnaturally. Jokes on them, Caitlyn pondered to herself. She wasn’t at all a normal Piltovan.

Now that she stood alone, her fingers tapped repeatedly against her journal. A mix of nerves yet also pure determination. A part of her almost found a thrill in this moment; facing someone so precarious and violent that no one else would attempt to do. Tap tap tap. She glanced up at the numbers spinning over, lowering her down each level, as if descending into the shadow realm. She only hoped that she could convince this… Pink to talk to her. The clues were just in her reach, the one who might have the missing piece.

But those missing pieces might lie in the jaws of a predator.