I Argued With The Sheriff, Now She's Pinning Me To Her Desk

The polished mahogany of the desk was cool and solid beneath Caitlyn’s forearms. It was a grounding sensation in an office that still felt foreign, despite the weeks she’d spent within its walls. Everything was orderly, from the neatly stacked case files on her left to the synchronized ticking of the Hex-clocks on the wall. Her new Sheriff’s uniform was crisp, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar across her shoulders. On her chest, the heavy, Hex-gemstone crest gleamed, a constant reminder of the weight she now carried. Piltover’s peace. Her responsibility. She focused on the neat columns of an incident report, the familiar cadence of official language a small comfort.

Then, the peace shattered.

A muffled shout from the bullpen, followed by the distinct, percussive sound of a fist meeting a wall. Caitlyn didn't even need to look up. Her jaw tightened, a familiar ache starting behind her eyes. There was only one person on the Enforcer payroll who announced her presence with such casual violence.

The door to her office flew open, slamming against the interior wall hard enough to rattle a framed city charter. A junior officer stumbled in after it, his face pale. "Sheriff, I am so sorry, I told her you were in a review—"

"It's fine, officer," Caitlyn said, her voice dangerously calm. She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the woman who now strode into her meticulously ordered space like a storm front.

Vi. Her Enforcer jacket was unzipped, showing a plain grey shirt beneath that was stained with something dark. There was a fresh smudge of grease on her jaw, and her knuckles were scraped raw. She ignored the sputtering officer, her heavy boots leaving scuffs on the polished floor as she marched directly to Caitlyn’s desk.

With a grunt, she dropped something heavy onto the pristine wood surface. It landed with a loud, grating clang that made Caitlyn flinch. A piece of twisted metal, warped and blackened as if from an explosion, pulsed with a sickly, internal light. It was the color of a deep bruise, a nauseating swirl of violet and green that seemed to drink the light from the room. A faint, chemical odor, sharp and acrid like burnt sugar and ozone, filled the air, tainting the clean scent of paper and wood polish.

"Down by the wharf," Vi said, her voice a low growl. She leaned forward, planting her hands on the desk, bringing her face far too close to Caitlyn’s. The heat from her body radiated across the small space between them. "They're calling it 'Shine.' It's like Shimmer, but faster, meaner. I saw a kid on it go through a brick wall. Your 'by the book' patrols aren't seeing it, Cait. They're too slow, and they're looking in all the wrong places." Her grey eyes were intense, demanding, pinning Caitlyn in her chair.

Caitlyn stared at the pulsating metal, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet Vi’s. The heat from Vi’s body was a palpable force, smelling of sweat, ozone, and the undercity grit that seemed permanently embedded in her clothes. It was an unwelcome invasion into the sterile air of her office. She deliberately leaned back in her chair, creating a fraction more distance between them, and placed her hands flat on her desk, palms down.

"A piece of scrap metal and a wild story are not actionable intelligence, Vi," she said, her voice clipped and even. She refused to give Vi the satisfaction of a reaction. "Where is the suspect you apprehended? The witness statements? What is the chain of custody for this... exhibit?"

Vi scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. She pushed off the desk and straightened up, gesturing around the opulent office with a sweep of her hand. "Chain of custody? You think the guys slinging this stuff wait around to sign witness statements? I stopped a deal, Cupcake. The pusher is nursing a broken jaw in a back alley and the kid he was selling to is long gone. This is all I could get." Her gaze dropped back to the glowing metal, then shot back to Caitlyn, burning with an angry fire. "It's enough. It has to be."

"It is not enough," Caitlyn countered, her own voice rising to match Vi's intensity. "What you did was reckless. You operated outside of protocol, outside of your designated patrol zone, and you engaged without backup. You could have been killed." The last words came out sharper than she intended, a sliver of raw fear cutting through the veneer of professional anger. Her fingers curled slightly, pressing into the wood of her desk.

"I can handle myself," Vi shot back, stepping closer again, leaning over the desk until their faces were barely a foot apart. "That's the problem with you, isn't it? You're so wrapped up in your rules and your paperwork you can't see the fire until the whole city is burning down. People are going to get hurt while you're waiting for your reports to be filed in triplicate!"

"And your solution is to punch your way through the problem until you find one that won't punch back!" Caitlyn was on her feet now, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. They were standing eye-to-eye over the desk, the pulsating chem-tech a malevolent heart between them. "This isn't the Lanes, Vi. There are procedures. There are laws. They exist to protect everyone, including you!"

"I don't need your protection!" Vi snarled, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I need you to get your head out of the clouds and see what's happening on the ground! Or have you forgotten what the ground looks like from up here in your tower?"

The accusation struck a nerve, raw and deep. Every argument they had circled this same drain. Her privilege, her rules. Vi’s recklessness, her past. It was a well-worn, painful path they walked again and again, a dance of accusation and defense that left them both bleeding. The air between them was thick with unspoken things—the memory of a rain-soaked night, the ghost of a promise, the years of anger and longing that had festered into this impossible, static friction.

The sharp rap of knuckles on the door was a gunshot in the tense silence. Before Caitlyn could answer, the door opened cautiously. Captain Renaud, a portly man whose uniform was always a size too tight, stood in the doorway, his face flushed. He held a silver datapad clutched in his white-gloved hand.

"Sheriff," he began, his eyes flicking nervously between her and Vi. "Apologies for the intrusion. An urgent dispatch from the Council."

Caitlyn tore her gaze from Vi’s, the anger in her chest instantly chilling into a cold dread. "What is it, Captain?"

Renaud stepped inside, carefully avoiding the glowing metal on the desk. He cleared his throat. "Intelligence has confirmed chatter regarding a new chem-tech derivative. They're calling it 'Shine.' Potent, highly volatile. The source has been traced to a smuggling ring operating out of the port district's abandoned shipping warehouses." He paused, sweat beading on his upper lip. "The Council's directive is explicit. They want the operation dismantled immediately and with absolute discretion. No public spectacle."

Every word was a hammer blow to Caitlyn’s pride. Her eyes involuntarily slid to Vi, who hadn't moved. A slow, knowing smirk was spreading across Vi's lips, and it was more infuriating than any shouted insult. Vi unfolded her arms and leaned a hip against the desk, a picture of insolent victory. She was right. She had been right all along, and Caitlyn had dismissed her like a child. The heat of shame burned up Caitlyn's neck.

"I see," Caitlyn said, her voice a carefully controlled monotone. "Thank you, Captain. Assemble a tactical unit. We'll raid the warehouses at dusk."

"A full unit might not be discreet, Sheriff," Renaud cautioned. "And with all due respect, sending you into that environment is a risk. And... Enforcer Vi's involvement is unorthodox." He gestured toward Vi, his distaste plain. "Her methods are... disruptive."

"My methods get results," Vi cut in, her voice low and dangerous. She pushed off the desk, her gaze fixed on Caitlyn, challenging her.

Caitlyn looked from the captain's worried, bureaucratic face to Vi's raw, defiant one. She saw the truth there. A standard tactical unit would blunder through the docks, announcing their presence a mile away. They didn't know the shadows like Vi did. And Caitlyn couldn't stand here, in this office, and send others to clean up a mess she had been too proud to acknowledge moments before. The thought of Vi going back there alone—reckless and furious—was a physical pain in her chest.

A decision formed, sharp and absolute.

"The Captain is right," Caitlyn said, her voice ringing with an authority that made both Renaud and Vi look at her in surprise. "A full unit is too loud. This requires a delicate touch." She looked directly at Vi, her blue eyes as hard as steel. "Enforcer Vi brought this threat to my attention. She has firsthand knowledge of the situation. I know the Council's protocols."

She took a breath, the weight of the gemstone on her chest seeming to triple. "We will handle this. Personally. Just the two of us."

Captain Renaud’s jaw dropped. "Sheriff, I must formally object! It's too dangerous!"

"Your objection is noted, Captain. And overruled," Caitlyn said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You have your orders. Ensure we have clear communication channels and an extraction team on standby. We move in one hour. Dismissed."

Renaud stared for a moment longer, then snapped his mouth shut, gave a stiff nod, and backed out of the office, closing the door softly behind him.

The silence that fell was heavier than the argument had been. Vi was still staring at her, the smirk gone, replaced by a look of grudging respect mixed with deep suspicion. The fight had been drained from the room, leaving only the stark, undeniable reality of what was to come. They were in this together.