Smoke and Shadows
The Sinner
The Repentant Sinner sat in uneasy quiet that night. A staple of dark corners and late-night murmurs, tonight the bar was tense, filled with an anticipation that even the dim lights and low hum of conversation couldn’t soften. There were whispers of “gang activity” being thrown around, but the hunters could feel the truth. The Sinner was the target, and staying to fight was folly.
They weighed their options under the bar’s warm, worn beams, a place that had given them more than shelter; it had been a home, a sanctuary, and a battleground all in one. For Helen, this place was more than a bar—it was where she’d poured years of herself into creating a refuge for hunters like her, a place of camaraderie and safety amid Havensport’s shadows.
Miko, Dwight, and Barney stood close, pressing her to leave. Their words blurred together as she stared around the room, her gaze lingering on every corner. She’d fought to keep this place secure, filling it with the kind of memories and relics only hunters would understand. Each table held stories, every scratch on the walls an echo of battles fought and won. But tonight, that was slipping away.
The urgency in their voices cut through her, Helen let out a quiet sigh and gave a reluctant nod. She would leave, but she couldn’t abandon everything—not completely. She moved to gather what she could, holding back the weight that settled over her heart. It was one thing to say goodbye, but it was another to leave the last remnants of her life’s work to the flames.
The plan was brutal, but necessary. Every bottle of alcohol was upended, every shelf and corner primed to burn. Kimmy, ever resourceful, prepared the trigger on her drone to ignite the bar from a safe distance. Helen watched, her mind churning, as they made the final touches.
As they made their preparations, Kimmy reached out online, tapping into her network to contact SalemHunter—a name rarely spoken but known in the shadows of Havensport’s occult web. When SalemHunter agreed to assist, a thread of relief wove through the hunters’ unease, one last ally amidst the chaos.
But time was running thin. Helen gathered her most cherished belongings with a slowness that grated on Miko’s nerves. His frustration bubbled over, and he smashed a box from her hands, the contents scattering across the floor. Helen’s face darkened, her patience fraying. Without a word, she turned to him, her eyes cold, and told him to leave.
Miko, unshaken, slipped outside. He wasn’t abandoning them entirely, not yet. Taking up position in the alley, he kept watch, a silent sentinel waiting for the inevitable. When the notification came through from SalemHunter via Kimmy, he looked down at his phone: a photo of Longshoremen moving in nearby. Trouble, in no uncertain terms, was on its way.
Meanwhile, Drago, visibly drunk but unwilling to be left behind, stumbled into the driver’s seat of a waiting car. Dwight, Barney, Kimmy, and Helen quickly piled in, knowing they needed to escape the encroaching perimeter before it sealed them in. As Drago revved the engine, they sped off, leaving Miko behind.
In the tight confines of the alley, Miko’s posture blended seamlessly with the damp, grimy walls. As three Longshoremen lumbered closer, he adjusted his paltery disguise—an inside out t-shirt and wrapped face. Yet his sharp, watchful gaze told a different story.
When the men spotted him, their eyes flashed with irritation rather than suspicion. One of them barked a rough command for him to move on, sparing not a second glance. Miko nodded, shuffling away with feigned reluctance. But as he reached the end of the alley, he doubled back, positioning himself just out of sight, the familiar, cold thrill of the hunt settling over him. His family had taught him to wait for the perfect moment, and he knew patience could be as lethal as any blade.
One Longshoreman broke off from the others, grumbling as he moved down the alley to ensure Miko had truly left. It was the opportunity Miko had been waiting for. With a swift, almost mechanical motion, he lunged, his knife a flicker in the dim light. He struck with brutal precision, his grip unwavering as the man crumpled, a silent shadow falling to the damp earth.
In the brief, quiet aftermath, Miko’s fingers moved over the man’s pockets, taking whatever he could find, each movement as methodical as it was emotionless. The job done, he slipped back into the shadows, vanishing as if he’d never been there, another ghost haunting the dark veins of Havensport.
Streets of Brightside
As the hunters fled the Sinner’s executioners, the night pressed in tighter around them. Drago, tipsy yet determined, gripped the steering wheel, navigating the streets with a drunken mix of bravado and reckless abandon. The city lights flickered past as they drove, but soon enough, Drago noticed something off—a blue van trailing them, keeping pace, its headlights a steady, watchful presence.
Drago cursed, jerking the wheel in an attempt to lose their shadow. The car veered left, tires screeching as he cut through the narrow streets, but the van matched his movements, relentless in its pursuit. The van was no mere bystander. They had eyes on them, and the hunters knew it.
Barney glanced at Drago’s heavy hands on the wheel, the alcohol still dulling his reflexes. Tension flickered in his eyes as he felt the ghostly presence of Dr. Sudworth lingering in his thoughts. They exchanged brief, cryptic words, a conversation more felt than heard. Barney’s fingers wrapped around his pistol, and with a quick nod, he rolled down the window, took aim, and fired at the van’s tires. The gunshot echoed in the dark, the tires burst with a shriek, and Drago seized the opportunity to swerve and finally shake their tail.
As the van receded into the distance, the hunters made a beeline for the local HavensBurger, needing somewhere to stop that was past the police codon. The lights of the fast-food joint flickered over the lot as Drago pulled in, the scent of salt and stale oil in the air.
HavensBurger
After their hasty escape, the hunters found themselves drawn to the fluorescent glow of HavensBurger, the only sign of normalcy on a night that had been anything but. Drago, stomach rumbling and mind dulled from drink, headed inside for some food, while the others lingered outside, taking a moment to catch their breath.
Kimmy kept a close watch on her drone feed. The screen flickered as she saw the last of the Longshoremen circling back to the Sinner. One tossed a Molotov cocktail through the bar’s shattered window. Within seconds, flames roared to life, igniting faster than they’d expected, fueled by the traps Kimmy had left behind. The Sinner was gone, the flames swallowing it whole.
The smoke from the burning Sinner cast sharp dark clouds into the sky. Raven pulled up in her Trans Am, her face a mask of grim resolve. Helen took one last, lingering look at Kimmy and the group, as if memorising every face before stepping forward. Kimmy wrapped her arms around her in a brief, fierce hug, grounding them both in that moment. With a final nod, Helen climbed into the Trans Am beside Raven, the engine rumbling as they disappeared into the night, leaving the hunters to gather themselves in the cold glow of the HavensBurger.
Drago ordered a burger, deciding in his own strange logic to sign up for Noxus Protection Plus while he was there. Scribbling out a made-up signature under Kimmy’s name, he glanced at the two workers behind the counter. Something about them was… wrong. They moved with the precision of machines, sliding trays across the counter and assembling orders with mechanical, unblinking efficiency. Their faces were blank, eyes dull and devoid of anything human. Drago noted it in a foggy way at first but quickly felt something cold settle in his stomach. He muttered to himself as he took his food and sat.
The burger was as tasteless as cardboard, but the fries—oddly enough—were good, crisp with just the right hint of salt. Drago ate in uneasy silence, watching the employees. He chewed slowly, a vague familiarity stirring in his mind, trying to place what felt so off. It wasn’t vampirism, he was sure of that, but it was something just as dark. He pulled Dwight and Barney aside, describing the strange, soulless quality of the staff, searching for answers.
Barney’s gaze grew distant, his mind dipping into the shadowy wisdom Dr. Sudworth left in his head. Sudworth’s voice drifted through, his tone as cryptic as ever: “Their spark is missing.” The words lingered, unsettlingly vague, carrying a truth that Barney couldn’t ignore.
Dwight, thinking pragmatically, pulled out his phone and typed out an email to Lex. As an operative within Noxus’s NIU, Lex might have some insight into HavensBurger, which was, after all, one of Noxus’s many tentacles in the city. Whatever the truth behind these empty-eyed workers, Dwight knew that in Havensport, questions like these rarely led to simple answers.
Miko rejoined the group, having made his way past the police cordon. Together, the five hunters gathered themselves, leaving HavensBurger’s cold, sterile glow and heading toward Dwight’s safehouse, where a few hours of uneasy rest might be all they could hope for before the darkness of Havensport came calling once more.
