Charmed 3.9
2000, July 15: Phoenix, AZ, USA
Veronica, La Torcha, wouldn't be seeing her hoverpack. Or anything else for that matter.
It was time.
All throughout, my captivity had been one giant exercise in self-control. During the day, I had to be very careful about what I wanted, what I was willing to act on, and what I was willing to sacrifice in the name of buying myself time and materials.
I was no Lee Sin, with an unshakable discipline that could channel the Dragon of Ionia. I was no Kai'Sa, with an iron will that could hold back the Void for a decade. I was no Atreus, with an unrelenting resolve to face down gods.
Aside from the Mana Crystals, I gained no supernatural effects from meditation, but the ability to compartmentalize my burgeoning love for Camille and balance it with rational thoughts and the need for subtlety even in my own mind was a testament to my increasing self-discipline. I would have never been able to do this in my past life and I felt a burst of pride at my progress.
This last stretch was the single hardest meditation session I'd ever put myself through.
I'd waited for so long, prepared and bided my time. I could surely wait five more hours, I told myself
That didn't change the restlessness I felt. My skin tingled in anticipation even as I drowned out the nervous energy in a sea of mana and introspection.
And still I waited. I didn't know when La Torcha liked to sleep so I had no choice but to stay in meditation longer. I formed crystals in my hands beneath the covers and sank the rest into the Tear.
Finally, at long last, Lawless went to sleep. I reached out and took a sip of the Oracle's Elixir beside my bed as my world expanded around me. Off near the edge of my range, I saw La Torcha getting into bed. Dozing, but not fully asleep yet. I glanced at the clock; three-twenty, two hours later than usual. There were eight normal humans I could see around the warehouse in varying states of wakefulness. I could see a few stirring restlessly, but with the time being what it was, this was as good as I'd get.
As quietly as I could, I shuffle-tugged my pillow from the pillowcase and carried the entire thing like a makeshift sack filled with Mana Crystals and dream blossoms.
First things first, I had to ensure that the gang members would remain asleep while I worked. To that end, I snuck into the kitchenette and picked out my incense burner before taking it to my lab. Fortunately for me, Lawless and Camille had largely forgotten about my incense burner. After all, what the hell could I make with a fancy clay pot, right?
Arrogance was a sin punishable by death.
Then, I snuck into the office Lawless worked out of. He always kept the shutters raised so he could shout profanities down at the workers so I lowered them as quietly as I could, plunging the office into darkness.
There was a safe beneath the desk, three inches of hardened steel. It was where the previous warehouse manager kept his cash and valuables, also where La Torcha locked up my multi-tool. Only she and Lawless knew the password and they figured that with the most versatile tool I had in their control, I wouldn't be able to sneak off to tinker without their oversight, or lash out and hurt someone.
The safe itself was a sturdy affair. Even if I had the Elixir of Wrath, I didn't think I'd be able to break it open, and definitely not without waking the entire warehouse. The lock wasn't really something I knew how to pick either. While there were hundreds of thousands of expert thieves in Runeterra, Inspiration didn't automatically mean I'd be able to draw on their memories, not unless I was in the midst of creating something new.
I formed my hand into a finger pistol and channeled. The spark of infinity within my soul answered. My right hand glowed as the first of three bullets ignited. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so. I felt the World Rune consolidate into my tattoo before lancing out in a beam of azure light. There was an almost cartoonish "pshwoo" sound as the hyper-concentrated mana displaced the air and made contact with the safe. Thankfully, the noise wasn't too loud and confined by the office walls.
The transmutation spell contained within activated immediately. A single flash of light and I was looking at a neat hole carved into the safe. It was almost artistic how most of the safe, about my weight in steel, had vanished into thin air, converted into mana and dispersed in moments. The "cut" was so perfect that the edge looked professionally done, as if made intentionally to be some kind of postmodern art sculpture.
Inside, my multi-tool and Blitzpack sat waiting for me.
"I fucking love this thing," I chuckled as I glanced at my hand. One of the three bullets was dull now.
I snuck back into my lab and set my incense burner on the workbench. Normally, working with glazes was a pain. Trying to make any change, however minor, to an already finished ceramic piece was damn near impossible thanks to how rigid it was. After all, glazes were essentially chemically altered glass and ceramics weren't exactly known for malleability.
That was where my new multi-tool came in. With a narrow enough nozzle, I could condense the welding torch. Even a normal welding torch was much hotter than high-fire glazed ceramic, but I didn't want to melt the glass. I needed the plasma to be so hot and so concentrated that it would immediately cut through the material like butter. It was possible if I overcharged the capacitors. They'd burn out in short order and I'd need to replace them, but I planned on that anyway.
So, hextech multi-tool in hand, I began to engrave runes into the incense burner. Every finished rune was charged with a Mana Crystal until I was left with a fully functional censer, one specifically designed for dream blossoms.
Originally, Lillia's censer was made from the branch of the Dreaming Tree, but I had none so this bastardized version would have to do. Along with propagating the incense through both physical and spiritual means, the censer was engraved with runes of protection for the wielder, me. It wouldn't do to knock my own ass out after all, a bit of Lillia's magic bullshitted into my version of the censer.
Six dream blossoms, fully bloomed over the course of the week, were joined with the censer in an alchemical ritual that reshaped the vessel. Milky-white porcelain was replaced with a deep, rich blue. Jade-green carps were replaced with royal-purple flowers. A hoop extended from the top so it could be held in hand or hung from a staff. I knew that despite its fragile, elegant appearance, it could easily be used to club a man's skull open and not receive the slightest fracture.
I grinned. It was four-fifteen, but that would be enough time for what I had planned.
I channeled mana from within, holding nothing back. Every rune glowed with an azure light, almost indistinguishable from the inlaid flowers. A blue smoke that smelled of midsummer nights and forest floors wafted from the censer. I knew that so long as I supplied it with mana, it could produce this smoke at will.
The dream blossoms were special. The reason I went for these instead of any type of mundane or even magical poison was that these flowers were intrinsically tied to the spirit world. They were dual existences, with a half-step in both the mortal and spiritual worlds. Because of this, walls did not confine their influence. Nor were they impacted by wind, temperature, rain, or anything else that would typically hinder a gaseous attack. As an added plus, they couldn't be resisted by any kind of enhanced biology either. The only way for a human to resist was to reside in an entirely separate space, to not be in the area at all.
I watched the smoke-that-wasn't-smoke disperse throughout the warehouse and even further out. Everyone I could see fell deep into slumber, their chests rising and falling in steady rhythm. Outside, the guards who had been masquerading as night watchmen slumped in their booths. I had until the break of dawn and the new shift to make my escape. I didn't know exactly when the changing of the guard was, but I decided to assume it was at five-thirty and gave myself a little over an hour.
The first thing I did was find a duffel bag and fill it with my creations. Moving to an unused cabinet in my lab, I pulled out the tray full of holy water. Inside was a pair of scissors I'd intended to engrave with runes had I any reason to extend my stay. I tossed the tray but packed the scissors; I could complete this one later.
This was one of the main advantages alchemy had over traditional mechanics: Tools and an established lab were more like suggestions than requirements.
I loaded the Blitzpack and released, causing a complete electronic blackout in a two-hundred foot radius. It also shorted out my multi-tool, but that was fine; I'd gotten my use out of it.
I then slung the EMP generator and wore it like a backpack. In hindsight, the spherical design made carrying it a bit awkward. That was what I got for my tunnel-vision insistence on making it look like Blitzcrank, one more thing I'd have to reshape when I had the time.
With the multi-tool, Blitzpack, and Dream Blossom Censer in hand, I only had to collect three more of my creations: the Petricite dagger, my relic pistol that I still needed a name for, and the Control Wards.
I decided to knock out the hardest part of this right away and moved to Camille's room.
X
The room reeked of half-dried semen and sweat. I almost wished I was an actual eight year old; at least that way I wouldn't recognize the smell for what it was. Freeform and Camille were sprawled on the bed butt-naked, blankets kicked to the floor in the heat of their nighttime activities.
I made a beeline for the nightstand drawer where I knew Camille kept my relic pistol and the knife I'd made her. I was taking no chances with the changer-yes. I tucked the pistol and holster in my belt and faced the two "lovers."
I crawled onto the bed and placed my left hand over Freeform's mouth before unsheathing my dagger and plunging it into his heart.
His eyes shot open as he let out an agonized scream. He began to thrash about but could not escape nor change. I could have drawn the blade over his throat, but then the Petricite might slip away from contact with his body. This way, his own ribs would help my child body hold the dagger there. I wanted to give him no opportunity to shift away.
I didn't know if he could make out my face in the darkness, but I didn't give him long before I let go of the dagger and jammed my finger into his would, expending my second Minion Dematerializer directly into his chest cavity. His eyes widened further but he couldn't say a word before sixty-eight pounds worth of flesh and blood vanished into mana. I'd made sure to aim upward, taking his brain and corona with the attack. No corona, no power. His leftover lower torso and legs began to soak blood into the sheets.
"Huh?" I heard Camille slur in her sleep. "Babe?"
"Shit, you weren't supposed to be awake," I muttered before I could stop myself. I picked up my dagger and loomed above her.
That forced her wide awake. "Andy?"
A single word and I was hers. My name on her lips was the sweetest song I'd ever heard.
Her power demanded my attention. It demanded that I focus on her honey-sweet voice and her naked body, never mind that the Oracle's Elixir meant I already knew what she looked like at all times. I saw the pool of half-dried fluids around her core and smelt the faint stench of vomit and liquor on her lips. Disgusting, but forgivable, the sinister part of me whispered. I saw her expression as she felt the warm, sticky blood from her lover's stray legs and put two and two together.
"Camille," I breathed out. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to say so much. I wanted to just kill her. I knew it had to be done, but my blade wouldn't move. I backed away, first one step then another.
"You-You're awake," she tried as she rose to a seated position. "You killed Freeform… You're not going to hurt me, are you?"
"I…"
"I love you," she said, three words I'd happily kill to hear, three words I knew people had killed for.
'No doubt Freeform felt the same,' I thought.
I knew. I knew in my mind what she was doing. It didn't help much. I felt like a sheep being sedated before being lured into the slaughterhouse.
"You killed him," she continued, eyes wide and facing where she assumed I was standing. "You saved me. H-He hurt me, Andy, and you saved me. You're my little hero, you know that?"
Another step back. "I'm not-"
"You are. Come here. Can… Can you hold me?"
I knew it was pure manipulation. I knew that my feelings weren't real. It did very little to help when faced with the siren before me. I took a half-step forward.
'I can't hurt her,' I thought despairingly, conflicting feelings of love and hate waging war in my heart. "I can't…"
"You can. Come here."
I turned the dagger away from her. For one moment, the briefest instant, I saw a triumphant smirk flit across her face.
Hesitance transformed into resolve, resolve into rage, rage into hate.
Hate into action.
The dagger dropped.
Pain lanced through my leg.
I didn't know whether it was the Petricite or the pain, but I felt like True Ice had been injected into my veins.
Clarity restored, the relic pistol rose and I snapped off three shots faster than I'd ever fired before, not that that was saying much. One went wide, but another struck her chest. I lucked out with the third, striking her in the base of the neck, cutting off her startled shriek.
I felt numb as I watched her lifeless corpse collapse.
'Firearms practice. One more thing to add to my to-do list,' I thought. Thinking of anything else but her cooling corpse helped me shove my mounting despair into a deep hole. 'Later.'
I walked over and knelt by her side as her mouth opened to give voice to soundless cries. Did she want to curse me? Tell me how La Torcha would burn me alive? Break me with words as she confessed her eternal love for me? Or perhaps plead for her life one last time?
I didn't know and not knowing hurt.
I watched the light fade from her eyes as I whispered, "I love you."
X
I sat like that for far too long, too emotionally troubled to find it in myself to move.
I buried my emotions deep and got up on shaky knees.
In comparison to the clusterfuck that was Camille, the rest of my raid through the warehouse was hilariously simple.
A quick slash across the throat here. A charged beam of light through the head there.
La Torcha got the Freeform treatment, a stab through the heart with Petricite to disable her power while my final Minion Dematerializer removed her corona along with any chance for her Shard to retaliate.
I looted the warehouse of any cash, almost $30,000 in loose bills. Then, I found myself some nondescript clothes, a pair of gray sweatpants and jacket, and used the blood-soaked ones for target practice.
Just as the earliest rays of dawn broke over the horizon, I walked out of that warehouse with newfound resolve and a broken heart, a killer of a dozen men before the age of ten.
They were waiting for me.
Author's Note
Not 100% happy with this. Honestly, it's my first time writing an escape scene, though it was very low risk thanks to the Dream Blossom Censer. That's the trouble with League items sometimes. They're honestly game-breaking even when I stay away from the OP shit (for the moment). Hopefully I did the Camille scene some justice. The biggest challenge for an author is providing a sense of catharsis and I don't know that I did that well here.
Also, a brief show of how the Minion Dematerializer works. "Anything in its path" gets converted to raw mana and dispersed into the air. The safe is that "thing," meaning it won't just automatically take a spherical bite out of everything. If it hits a shield for example, the shield will vanish, but the person holding it will still have his hand. I'm going to take some liberties with this and say it ignores most clothing so he's not just stripping people. It's a shameless narrative "fuck you" beam.
I know that this fic took a turn for some heavy shit towards the end of this arc. Honestly? I'm pretty surprised by this too. I didn't set out to write something this heavy; I just wanted something fun to distract myself with. Originally, the Inspired Inventor mini-series was how I envisioned this fic: comedic, with a touch of seriousness. Still, I'm more or less happy with how things turned out so I won't apologize.