This is my tribute to my favorite television show to date. My best effort to pay homage to the masterpiece that is Arcane. Please enjoy.

–

"It'll be fine – just get back on the roof," Violet's order sounded hushed from just behind Powder.

Mylo waved her closer as Claggor stood by the balcony door. Reaching them, Powder turned back to see Violet tightening their bag of trinkets, lifting it and slinging it over her shoulder before starting towards them. Then – flash – and they were all on the floor.

Ears ringing, she felt more than saw or heard as Claggor hauled himself to his feet next to her. Rubbing her crown, she felt a warm wetness seeping from the back of her head where she had hit the balcony railing. A large hand reached down and grabbed her by the wrist, hefting her up and depositing her on her feet. Swaying slightly, she was aware enough to perceive Claggor dragging Mylo up as well. Powder stabilized herself with one hand on the railing. Over the next couple seconds, her senses began to clear and she took stock of her surroundings.

She could hear shouting beneath them in the street, cries of fear, confusion and command. A few words cut clearly through the din.

"Stop there!"

"Don't move!"

"Catch them!"

They don't matter. Where's Violet?

Smoke and dust choked what was left of the apartment they had been robbing. The exterior and central walls had been blown to smithereens and the floor was cratered and uneven. Residual jolts of blue static sparked from shattered plaster to concrete foundation, gadget to gizmo, furniture to – finger.

No.

No.

No…

Her disorientation forgotten and the acrid taste of bile rising in her throat, Powder pushed forwards. She hurdled a shattered cabinet, dodged around a toppled table and slid to the ground next to the fallen form of her sister. Carefully, gingerly, she trailed her fingers across her limp arm as she laid, facing the one intact wall of the apartment. Slowly, painfully so, she dragged Violet around to face her, where her sister slumped limply down to her back.

Beautiful powder-blue eyes stared blankly back at her, unseeing and unfeeling despite the shard of stone embedded solidly just under her collar bone. Blood bubbled lazily from the wound and trickled from the corner of her mouth, where it pooled next to her on the ground – hot, wet and slick.

An unnatural pallor clung to Violet's features. Her normally rosy, freckled face was devoid of any sign of her merciless compassion, her sacrificing love or the relentless fight that drove her. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. She wasn't fine. It wasn't fine.

Slowly, as though she was afraid she might disturb her sister's slumber, Powder reached out, taking Violet's head and shoulders in her arms and lifting her into her lap. She could vaguely hear Mylo's whispered "it can't be," and Claggor's heaving sigh of defeat, but they weren't Violet.

"Violet, please," Powder choked out, her voice hardly even a whisper, tainted with a whine of grief. "Please, Violet, please–" her voice cut out for a moment as she choked on her tongue. "No… Violet!" her shriek cut through the silence like an explosion.

The sound outside thundered back into her ears as she became aware of everything all at once. She was drowning in the noise, but it wasn't like the sounds could hurt her. Shouting outside, the clomping of footsteps further inside the building and Mylo and Claggor's breathing, ragged and wounded.

None of it mattered, as much as it all deafened her, nothing else mattered; and she would make sure the world knew it.

"Violet!" her scream echoed through the din, drowning it out and resounding through her bones, "Violet, please no!"

"Violet!"

–

Rage. Duty and rage called to him. Marcus would see that whomever was responsible for this crisis was detained quickly, efficiently, and without extreme prejudice. His men had just reported seeing a couple of kids up on the balcony just after the explosion. One large, two smaller, though they had disappeared inside in the moments following.

Down on the street, there wasn't much left to be done, the civilians had been guided away to safety, they had their backup and the suspects were inside.

"Take it down!" he shouted to his men.

With a grunt of exertion, one of the officers barreled into the apartment complex' door and smashed the flimsy construct off its hinges. With the path open, Marcus and two of his men charged into the failing building. They quickly located the stairs and charged up to the second story. Exiting the stairwell, they were greeted with a grisly sight.

A young man and girl were prone in the hallway. The man was half laid across her, maybe having tried to shield her from the blast, and fully unconscious. The girl, for her part, was furiously clawing at his limp body, trying to push him off her as she visibly gasped for breath.

A simple gesture had his two accompanying officers dealing with the two victims while he pushed deeper into the complex. No one had seen the three kids leave, so they still might have been inside.

Rounding the corner of the destroyed apartment, Marcus felt his rage leave him in a huff. On the ground, half obstructed by debris, a small girl of about ten years was kneeling with the head of another girl, a few years older than her, in her lap. He could tell, even without a hands-on examination, that the older girl was dead. A shard of concrete had broken away from the wall and pierced through her chest a little under her left collarbone and was protruding from her back. Two boys, of similar age to the deceased, were kneeling just inside from the destroyed outer wall, staring at their companion.

The girl's wails tore at his heart as he took in the scene. There were no criminals here. Maybe a couple of delinquents who had broken the law, but they were all victims of their own action.

Carefully, Marcus stepped his way through the rubble towards the kids. As he approached, he saw the two boys notice him and both make half-hearted attempts to run and hide, but there was nowhere for the two of them to go so they only made it a few steps before stopping and looking back at the two girls.

Gently, Marcus reached down to rest a hand as comfortingly as he could on the girl's shoulder, but even as he touched her, she didn't react beyond screaming again.

"Please, Violet!" As the girl cried, Marcus took note of the snot and saliva dribbling down her chin. Any modicum of propriety disregarded in her moment of loss.

Marcus stood again and strode to the side of the building, looking down at the officers he still had stationed in the street.

"Five of you, come up and help. I need a few sets of hands up here," his shout sounded out over the gathered enforcers despite the contesting shrieks of the girl in the apartment.

He then stepped back to try his best to clear the danger zone, as the building could very well collapse at any moment, and guided the two boys towards the stairs out in the hallway. Once they were away from the ledge and he could hear his men climbing the stairs, he backtracked to the girls' side and knelt down next to them. As gently as he could, he spoke to her.

"Hello, dear, my name is Marcus," his gentle greeting was hardly registered, as the little one simply continued to clutch her companion. "I'm sorry, little one, but it's not safe in here right now." With a gentle touch, he tried to guide the girl to her feet, but she simply refused to leave the older girl behind. "Come," he said, a little more forcefully. They needed to get to more stable ground. With that, he grasped the girl by the wrist and slowly dragged her to her feet, away from the dead girl. With his free hand, he slid his arm around the dead girl's shoulders and hefted her with them.

The young one shrieked ever louder as she was separated, but there was nothing to be done. It was only a few steps before another set of hands relieved him of the dead girl's weight and he was able to fully lift the little one in his arms. Holding her close, he quickly, but carefully picked his way back through the wreckage, down the stairs and out into the street.

Three of the enforcers he had called upstairs had guided the two boys down with them, one had the dead girl, and the last had been offering a hand to anyone who'd needed it. One of the officers in the street stepped up to him, obviously meaning to tell him something, but he waved them off in favor of gently setting down the little girl in his arms. Two other officers stepped forwards to take over for him and he turned to his subordinate.

"Report."

"It's Jayce Talis' apartment, sir," the officer recounted.

"Who's?"

"He's from the academy, sir. Any repercussions for this will be their purview, or if not, then the council."

Marcus sighed. A bunch of disassociated, unempathizing brass-hats were the last thing these kids needed.

"Stall them as best you can for now. Let's find these kids' guardians and make sure they're all safe before the council gets their pound of flesh."

–

"Our response must be swift, and decisive," Councillor Bolbok's even voice cut through the discussion sharply.

"We need to find who is responsible and deal with them," Councillor Kiramman snapped in response. "Leave no crevasse unchecked."

"I understand your urgency, Councillor Kiramman," the chipper voice of Councillor Heimerdinger echoed happily through the hall, invoking a moment of quiet as the gathered leaders of Piltover turned to him. "Nevertheless, I foresee the outcome of such un-premeditated action driving a wedge even deeper into this wound."

"Not the time, Councillor Heimerdinger," Kiramman snapped back. "You cannot understand this need for action. My daugh–"

"Yes," Councillor Medarda interrupted, "we all know your daughter was caught in the crossfire, but we should hear what Councillor Heimerdinger has to say on the matter."

"Thank you, Councillor Medarda," Heimerdinger replied cheerfully into the empty moment brought by Councillor Salo's request. "While I do understand the nature of your fear, as I can still understand the fear of death, even with my long life, I would like to bring attention to the fact that the perpetrators in this scenario are children, the leader of who is now dead."

"You cannot possibly be suggesting that these children were acting alone?" Councillor Medarda questioned. "That they just happened to target a member of the academy, one of your students? And one of yours who was apparently working with dangerously unstable materials no less?"

"Indeed, that is what I am suggesting," Heimerdinger's reply brokered no room for argument. "It is my suspicion that Jayce may have brought these would-be thieves to his home all on his own."

"And how might he have managed that?" Councillor Shoola chimed in, breaking her own silence in the discussion.

"The acquisition of these dangerous materials," Heimerdinger began cautiously, "referred to in Jayce's notes as Hex Crystals, are not found anywhere in the Piltover Academy's files. In short, I do not know where he acquired them from." Heimerdinger paused for a moment to let the other councillors break down what he meant by that. "Do any of you know where he might have acquired them?"

Heimerdinger watched as the other councillors glanced from one to another, searching for any sign that they might have a clue as to what these "Hex Crystals" were. As they came up empty, Heimerdinger continued.

"Not only do these Hex Crystals seem to have come, to my best guess, from the Undercity, but several of the instruments in his apartment seem to have stamps and manufacturing signatures of known Undercity industrialists. It would seem to me that Jayce may have involved himself in an unsavory crowd and brought their attention to Piltover. Perhaps, as is the way of our people, he was not as prudent as he ought to have been when dealing with less than upstanding distributors of equipment."

A moment of quiet before Councillor Medarda voiced a question cautiously.

"Did you know about what your ward was studying, Councillor Kiramman?"

As she asked her question, five pairs of eyes swung to the Kiramman matriarch, who at least had the decency to look appalled.

"Surely not!" she exclaimed. "Had I known he was working on such dangerous topics, I would have never funded his research at the academy. Especially so close to my daughter and to the residential quarter."

"A relief, Councillor," Councillor Salo spoke. "It would be a shame to find that you had a hand in endangering so many people only to turn it against the Undercity citizens you had only just employed."

"I beg your pardon?" Kiramman retaliated, voice deadly quiet.

"Well I just so happen to have a report here having seen Mr. Talis cross to and from the Undercity several times over the last several months."

"And you think this was done on my own order?" Councillor Kiramman asked back, voice dripping venom. "That I would intentionally bring these vessels of destruction so close to my own daughter?"

"Surely not," Councillor Salo replied easily, "but you cannot deny the – coincidence – that has come to this. You must see that it is at least in part due to your own negligence that we are where we are."

Heimerdinger shook his head sadly to himself.

Still, after so many years, they're still the same short-sighted humans, well, mostly humans, he thought, glancing over at Councillor Bolbok. Making himself heard again, Heimerdinger cut Councillor Kiramman off before she could begin.

"I am sorry, but I must interrupt again, as we are getting off track." Making sure all eyes in the room were once more on him, Heimerdinger continued. "It would seem to me that Jayce is at fault for bringing both illegal instruments into the city, and of bringing ruin on his work by dealing with some unsavory people, but he is otherwise indisposed at the moment as he still hasn't recovered from the explosion. In the meantime, we mustn't forget the most important aspect of the issue: why did these children decide to stake their futures on such an expedition?"

"And these delinquents are the most important aspect, why?" Councillor Hoskel snipped disinterestedly. "More important than the bombs that your student had smuggled into the heart of our city?"

"For the simple reason that they are the future," Heimerdinger replied happily. "They are the minds of tomorrow, but they were unable to escape the Now. Their survival hinged on getting enough from thievery to sustain them long enough to simply repeat the process. I believe that this should be a wake-up call for all of us to examine what we have done to help our own citizens. We have forgotten that we are the council for the Undercity as well as our very own Piltover. It is by our own failings that this unfortunate occurrence has befallen our city, and we need to examine new avenues to rectify that shortcoming."

"And you would do this, how, Heimerdinger?" Councillor Soola asked quietly.

"I believe our next course of action should be to call for an audience with a representative of the Undercity."

–

It had been a long time since Powder had seen Vander so defeated. She could still remember that day, so many years ago. The sky smothered in crimson smog, the echoing cracks of enforcer firearms cutting through the din. People running past her and Violet, fleeing the carnage, and Vander's expression of death as he crushed enforcers under his gauntlets. The expression on his face when he realized it was them, and his heartbreak when he had to show the sisters their mother's corpse. The expression of absolute devastation as he realized what his vendetta had wrought. The tears and half-hidden sobs that even he couldn't fully suppress as he carried her and Vi through the Undercity to find shelter.

Vi was dead. Nothing to be said about it.

"There was nothing you could have done, Powder," Vander's assurances were in vain, however, as Powder stared blankly at Vi's bunk. It was just the way they had left it that morning, pillows tossed aside and the blanket crumpled in a ball by the foot of the bed, the sheets a wrinkled mess on the mattress.

She could feel the tears beading in the corners of eyes, running down her cheek. The snot running from her nose, and dribbling over her mouth. It tasted salty, like the blood that had been caked all down her face after the explosion, though the enforcers had wiped that away before they had been delivered to Vander.

Breathing was a chore, back in the Undercity, and it was made all the worse by the seizing sobs and choking of her grief in her throat. Her lungs burned with the acrid tang of chemical gases and the sting of her bruised ribs from being tossed against that railing.

Mylo and Claggor were there too, having been returned to Vander along with her by the enforcers. They were both dealing with their experience in their own ways as well. Mylo was muttering to himself as he paced, and Claggor was seated on his own bunk, head in his hands.

"How did it go so wrong?" Claggor asked no one in particular.

The door to their bedroom swung open to reveal Benzo, stepping quietly into the space, Ekko trailing behind him.

"I've seen them out of the Undercity for now," he murmured as gently as he could. "I imagine they'll be back shortly if you want to split town."

"We won't be going anywhere, Benzo," Vander replied tiredly. "I don't think the kids could even if I wanted them to."

"I can't believe they just brought'em back like this. I would've thought they'd've locked the kids up together an' thrown away the key."

Ekko slowly stepped his way across the room. He strode past Mylo by the door and Claggor by his bed before coming to rest behind her on the floor, staring at Vi's empty bed. For a long moment he just stood there, a presence behind her that neither comforted her, nor felt like he was anything other than grieving with her.

For a long moment, they all stayed that way, just staring, absorbed in their grief and thinking of the girl that wasn't there with them. They were all just being together in their solitude.

Eventually, Ekko took a seat next to Powder on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, voice fracturing over the r's.

Powder just stayed still, eyes focused ahead of her on the cold covers.

"It's not your fault, kid," Vander's voice sounded behind the two of them.

"It is, though," Ekko whispered back. "It was my tip. My job."

"No, Little Man," Vander assured him. "This was no one's fault. You understand?" Ekko didn't respond, and eventually Vander stepped over and rested a hand on his shoulder. "This – this was no one's fault."

Powder spared a glance over to Ekko next to her. He was red-faced, eyes bloodshot and fluid running freely from his eyes and nose. She could hardly imagine she looked any better, but she found it in herself to reach out a hand to him, taking his hand in hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, barely a breath. "I'm sorry too."

Things were not fine.