Katarina, the blade of Noxus. Daredevil assassin.
Bootsteps echo behind her, clumsy and furious. Time and time again they believe to be closing in on her, but find nothing only shadows, open windows, wet footsteps on an alley, broken tiles on nearby house. As they continue chasing her trail, one by one, the pursuers start to lag behind.
Another slit throat, another whimper silenced, another obstacle swept aside for Noxus. The fool bled red like the rest, despite his delusions of grandeur. They always do. But now… now I’ve got dogs at my heels, and they’re barking loud. She thinks, high on adrenaline.
The rooftops are her salvation tonight. Leather creaks as Katarina vaults upward, boots gripping the tiled edges with ease. The cool Noxian night kisses her skin, and for a moment, just a moment, she just savors the thrill. This is the edge I live for—the sharp line between life and death, between glory and disgrace. But there’s no time to revel. Noxus needs its assassin, and I’ll be damned if I let these gutter-born thugs slow me down.
"Catch me if you can, cowards," Katarina hisses into the night, voice dripping with venom as she flicks a knife over her shoulder. I don’t even need to look; I know it’s found its mark by the guttural scream that follows.
And suddenly, inside an old warehouse in the city docks, her last pursuer finds himself alone. He stops cold, feeling both rage and panic. Katarina drops from a beam, right in front of him, not running away, but planting herself firm for a fight.