Quick Read: Indarius Flate, Yordle of the High Life

Does this technically mean I've written League fanfiction? Lmao.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"I promise. I'll get you the shipment by next week, I just need a little more time!"

 It was dark in the back room of the Amber Dragon. The fluorescent lights gave Flate a headache. He was used to the natural sunlight and high quality of his hextech light fixtures, the cheapness of Zaun didn't agree with him. He snapped his fingers and caught the attention of his personal aide. They attended to him wordlessly, applying fresh hair pommade to slick his headfur back and restore its sheen. Even in the dim of a Zaunite back room, Flate refused to look less than his best.

 "You said that last week. It was... let me think. Dragon sightings interrupting your illegal trade routes, I believe? The week before that it was enforcers, investigating your money laundering - poorly done money laundering - and now your latest excuse is... Balderan, what was it?"

 A round man in shiny clothes strapped with odd looking metal pieces spoke, "he claims it's technical faults, mister Flate."

 The yordle sat back in the chair that was too big for him, and shot the smuggler a bored look. "Technical faults," Flate repeated. 

"The... uh, blimp sprang a leak."

 Flate rolled his eyes. He jumped off the chair, and paced around the thug. He was tied to a support beam, with armed guards aiming strange rifles at him. "Your airship - and its an airship, with a rigid metal body by the way, not a balloon - is an Orca Model. I personally designed it, and I own one myself. I service it every month. And, lo and behold, it's never... sprung a leak. Which wouldn't cause any problems, because it's NOT a cheap balloon."

 Flate stood in front of the sweating thug. The yordle had grey fur that darkened to black at the top of his head, and his paws. He wore a latex waistcoat. With white and blue striped trousers and a tunic that ballooned at the wrists and ankles. He was all about balloons, he was one of the foremost experts on luxury aeronautics in Piltover.

 And a chief investor in the smuggling operations of Zaun.

 "Shoot him."

 The rifles buzzed. Hextech coils heating up. The large man from before cut the thug loose, who stood in confused silence before two bright blue beams of magical energy assaulted him from either side.

The smuggler tried to speak but all that came out was a rush of hot air. He watched in horror as his limbs thickened like the limbs of a parade balloon, and his torso inflated like a weather balloon. In seconds, a balloon in the shape of a man took up most of the room.

And Flate smirked. "Parade him through the streets for an hour. If he complains, pop him. If he behaves, add him to the collection. Either way we'll collect what he owes..."