With Logan giving the order, Silco didn’t hesitate anymore either. He had Sevika notify everyone to get moving.
Everyone—today, the Lanes are going to be lively.
No... that’s not quite right. It won’t just be the Sump. The Entresol is going to be lively too.
Because a lot of the wastewater pipework has to start from the Entresol.
So really, it’s all of Zaun that’s going to be lively today.
On the Pronade, Gordon sat slumped in a park, looking like his soul had been scraped out of him.
"Fucking Piltovans."
He spit the curse under his breath, face full of defeat.
He’d been fired. Because of the Enforcer incident not long ago, Piltover tightened control, and every Zaunite apprentice still in Piltover was expelled—kicked straight out of the city.
"Like hell Piltover would even exist without Zaun!"
Gordon lifted the bottle beside him and took a huge swig, but once the liquor hit his stomach, he didn’t feel any lighter at all.
What was he supposed to do?
Piltovans loved to say the city only beca what it was because of Zaun’s blood-and-sweat laborers... but what did they really think?
Gordon knew. Gordon understood exactly what they thought.
Those bastard Piltovans never treated them like people.
In their eyes, Zaun was where losers ended up. Where idiots lived. A city for fools who couldn’t climb Piltover’s shining golden tower—so they got left behind.
And now Gordon had beco one of those fools too.
But here was the strange part: he hated the Piltovans for kicking him out and withholding his pay, but he didn’t hate Zaun for fighting back.
The night he heard Zaun had killed nearly fifty Enforcers and won a victory, Gordon was so happy he dragged a few other Zaunites out and drank himself stupid in celebration.
Zaun won?
Zaun actually won?
Sure, getting fired made him furious—but watching Piltover eat dirt still made him feel amazing.
So yeah. He was complicated.
With no job in the upper city, what was he supposed to do now? Sell Shimr booze? Beco a Shimr dealer? No... he’d heard from coworkers that Shimr had been brought under control lately—hard to get your hands on. And Zaun had a new group now, the Spirit Blossom Gang, that had cracked down on the Lanes’ gangs and even built harmonious communities.
So... if he went to one of those communities, could he find work there?
Bottle in hand, Gordon walked along the Pronade.
He ignored the stares from the "big shots." He treated everyone else’s looks like they didn’t exist and kept moving forward, step by step—until he saw the Shrieker. Then the "big shots’" eyes vanished.
Heh. Like they’d dare co to Zaun now?!
They were scared shitless!
Gordon couldn’t help laughing. That was Piltover for you—hypocrites who only dared bully the weak, and the second they got punched back, they curled up into a ball.
Zaun’s been getting beaten for centuries, and we still dare to fight back!
Thinking that, Gordon climbed into the Shrieker and took another big swig.
The Shrieker stopped at the Entresol. Gordon stumbled out of the chubby, round machine—and what he saw was a massive crowd of Zaunites.
He rubbed his eyes and let out a confused sound.
He hadn’t been back to Zaun for a while, sure, but... did Zaun have this many people?
A group wearing blue-and-pink graffiti markings was running all over the Entresol. And there were gang types too—bodies covered in tattoos, scary as hell, clearly people who’d done real things—also rushing around.
They were hauling materials on their shoulders. So carried tool cases—clinking and jangling, and you could spot bone saws inside. Other cases held protective suits and gas masks. And so of them were literally sprinting in broad daylight carrying a whole cage of bombs.
Gordon stared at the scene and seriously wondered if he’d drunk himself into hallucinating.
Were they about to go to war with Piltover?!
Was this so kind of defense project?
"Hey, man." Gordon grabbed soone who was running past. The guy wore a jacket with a big pink petal painted on it—honestly, it looked pretty damn nice.
"What?" The runner glanced at Gordon.
"What are you guys... doing?" Gordon asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Taking apart the pipelines. You didn’t hear?" The guy looked at Gordon like he’d grown a second head. "Didn’t they broadcast it this morning? People in the Entresol and the Sump were told to shut their doors and windows tight—no gaps."
"I just ca down from Piltover," Gordon said.
The guy froze, then imdiately nodded. "Yeah, that explains it. Anyway, brother—this is a good thing."
He flashed Gordon a huge grin, friendly as can be, and patted him hard on the shoulder. "Starting today, Piltover won’t be pushing us around anymore. You won’t need to go up to Piltover again."
"I can’t really explain it all, I’ve got stuff to do." With that, he hefted his case and ran off.
As he ran, he shouted, "Redwater Street needs twenty people to deliver materials! The pipeline’s opened up! We need volunteers to go inside the pipe!"
Gordon saw a gang mber answer him—one of those guys who looked like he had a few bodies on his conscience—shouting back, "I’m in! Put in there! I’ve drunk Shimr—I’m not scared of toxic gas and wastewater!"
And with that, he took off toward Redwater Street.
Gordon knew Redwater Street. That was the Entresol’s red-light district.
Curiosity burning, Gordon followed after the gang mber.
Ten minutes later, Gordon arrived at Redwater Street.
Along the way, he saw so many Zaunites—people with the petal graffiti, tattooed gang mbers, and ordinary residents.
People just like Gordon. Regular Zaunites.
But right now, they were working alongside them.
Hauling rubble and supplies. Every face was urgent. No one cared about sweat beading on their foreheads, and no one stopped because their hands were blistered and bleeding.
What... was happening?
And when Gordon finally saw what they were actually doing, it hit him all at once.
Above one of Redwater Street’s buildings stood more than a dozen Zaunites. A group of them braced a ladder they’d set up, and the ladder led to a massive wastewater pipeline.
The pipe was several ters thick—one of the major arteries Piltover used to dump wastewater into Zaun. Zaun had countless pipes routed down from Piltover, and now this important one had been cut open into a huge breach. A sheet-tal tube wide enough for a person to crawl through had been embedded into the opening, shoved into the pipeline itself.
As a senior technician, Gordon instantly understood what it was for.
It was a barrier—ant to prevent the toxic water from spilling out. The pipe wouldn’t be filled to the top, of course. Piltover dumped wastewater by the quarter. At this ti... the water level inside was probably only a few dozen centiters high.
And the pipe’s radius was easily over a ter. With that access tunnel inserted, the wastewater would be blocked back.
Gordon stood there slack-jawed, watching Zaunites pull on protective suits and line up, climbing the ladder one by one—then crawling into the pipeline.
Crawling into a pipe full of toxic fus and poison water?
Are they insane?!
Even if the water wouldn’t drown them, the inside of that pipe was full of poison gas!
Gordon was so horrified by what looked like a suicide mission that his blood ran cold.
"One person gets twenty minutes max! The mont the bell on your waist starts shaking, you co out imdiately! Nobody screw around—unless you want to die in there!"
"Logan’s order—no one’s allowed to die in this revolution!"
"Rember—don’t get greedy for ti! The gas mask and suit only protect you for twenty minutes. If you go over, it can seep through!"
"Got it?!"
A man who looked like the captain—more like the leader of this crew—shouted from the rooftop so loudly Gordon could hear every word from below.
"Goddess Janna above—bless ! I’m going first!" A Zaunite in full gear yelled.
Gordon watched soone vanish into the access tunnel.
Then the pipeline began to rumble with a deep, buzzing vibration.
"Next one—!"
"I’ll go next!"
One Zaunite after another crawled into the pipe.
Gordon’s scalp prickled, yet he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer.
When he reached the side of the building, he lifted his head, eyes burning hot, and shouted up at them:
"Hey! I’m Zaun too—count in!"
The captain in charge of that pipe heard Gordon, looked down at him, and burst out laughing. He bent forward and reached a hand down toward Gordon, voice loud and bright:
"Co on up, fellow Zaunite!"
//Check out my P@tre0n for 10 extra free Chapters ///Razeil0810
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