A/N: Since season 2 is out, and I have seen the new wave of favorites and follows, I got all fired up to start typing this away.
So, in the words of Deadpool and Wolverine;
Let's fucking go.
It was calm. Past the mid-day peak, it was well into the afternoon for certain, even if the sun did not reach so deep down in the lanes.
Over a dozen folks remained inside, chatting away with each other at their tables or in different corners of the hall. They listened to music after music, enjoying a late meal in tranquility, by themselves or accompanied.
Standing behind the counter, cleaning one last set of plates and cups, Vander took in the atmosphere. Saving it in his memory.
If only things were always like this.
That was the dream, was it not?
His, Ben's, and that of many others.
At least this new dream.
Peace for the place they had built together to call a home.
But, as it constantly did, time showed the path for it was one of struggle at every turn. Those that were from the acts of others, and the ones created by their own hands.
Easy to see why many would just give up after a while.
Not an option for him, however.
He was not going to let them down. Not again.
Not when there was still much to do. There were no guaranties for change, not in his lifetime. But, until then, he could at least secure a future for those who would come after. And maybe they would have the chance to achieve that dream.
That would be enough.
As Vander was about to move on with the cleaning, one of the seats in front of him became occupied. The person dropped hard on top of it. The face of tiredness was one of the easiest to recognize. Moreover, a leaned-forward body, almost laying on the counter sealed the deal.
"Rough day, uh?" He stated with a friendly and sympathetic smile, before going back.
The man in the seat, Fulton, his laugh was as tired as he was. "Tell me about, Jack." He said, running a hand of his beard, making a path with it to the side of his head. "It ain't even night yet. But you do what you got to do to make a living."
Vander nodded in agreement. "How was it?"
"A rush." Fulton said. "With winter coming, me and the boys are double-checking all the pipes and radiators through the place. Thank god everything seems to be ok."
"Good to hear."
For whatever little love there was between them and Piltover, there were some small things they did here and there that actually helped.
Such as the ventilation system.
The new generation could consider itself lucky to have passed over the times of the mines. Living as if a hand was wrapped around your neck every day. Poison being your oxygen.
One of their biggest reliefs was when those channels came into function. A first taste of what others had in plenty.
Breathable air a luxury. It was depressing just thinking about it.
Nevertheless, it wasn't long before they took that boom and gave it a few more uses. Sure took a while, but after some trial and error, the cold would bother them no more.
"Well then." Putting the cup he had just dried before Fulton, Vander said. "A good day's work calls for a drink. What will it be?"
Fulton considered his choices. "You know what? Gimme something light. No alcohol. Just to kill the thirst." He settled.
Oh, for that, Vander knew just the thing for it. A favorite in the last drop. "I got you."
Reaching the shelf below, he opened a small box with refilled ice, pulling a bottle from inside. Taking off the cap, he poured. Orange soon fully filled the cup, with the sweet scent of oranges filling the space. To finish it all up, Vander placed a small metal straw inside.
"There it goes." He gestured to the cup.
"Appreciated, Jack." Fulton wasted no time in drinking.
Vander saw the satisfaction in the man's face. Amid of all the drinks he served, something more natural always hit a spot with people. The gratification of the moment dimmed at one point, however. A familiar face came into his mind's eye. One that once had the same reactions as Fulton with the drink. His gaze wandered to the side, stopping at a blue cylinder just within his reach.
The message scroll. Given to them by Grayson.
Suddenly, a weight returned to his shoulders.
Matt did find a loop for them to use. And Grayson gave them a week.
Now they were against the clock. And time will soon run out.
Ben, him, and Benzo spent hours talking, whenever they could. Each chat led to bad results as far as they could. In many different ways.
Soon, either they would have to hand one of theirs over, or the enforcers would turn the Undercity upside down. And Vander knew they could. Over his dead body, of course. But there was so much he could do about them. He learned from experience in that dammed day.
He sighed, picking up his smoking pipe, taking a long drag from it, trying to blink away the images.
Could really use your help right now. He spoke to the memories that remained. Hoping his voice could be heard by any of them.
"…Oi, Jack, you good?"
"Hmm?" Vander raised his head, finding Fulton staring at him.
"You got all quiet in there. Everything ok?" He asked again.
"Yeah, yeah." Vander said, brushing off the concern. "Got caught up in a thought."
"Something important?"
Even if necessary, Vander was never fond of lying to others. "Nothing to worry about." He replied.
Seemly buying it, Fulton gave a short nod, returning to his drink after.
Right on time. No longer distracted, Vander turned his head as he picked up the sound of approaching steps. More customers, he imagined.
Until the scent hit his nose.
A low growl ran through his throat. Hands flexing into fists.
He did not take his eyes out of the door as it opened. Lo and behold, there they were. Suited, and armed.
Two of them, one a big fellow, a little taller than he was. The other in average height. Both with their faces covered. Those he did not know.
However, Vander recognized the smell of the one in the middle. The one leading the group from the looks of it. Marcus, if he remembered the name right.
All sound in the hall died, music and voices, when the trio of enforcers stepped inside. Stares similar to his own were cast. The same anticipation for a reason to leap into action building beneath the surface.
"The fuck do they want?" He heard Fulton say.
And there was the shared question each of them had. What were they doing here?
For Vander, it had even bigger implications under the surface. Already he could see something was not right with the sudden visit of theirs.
Trying to keep his cool, and relaxing his posture, he waited until they reached the counter. While subtly hiding the message scroll from sight.
Taking off his mask with a hiss of air, Marcus stood straight, his head up when looking fixedly at Vander in the eye. Seems like his confidence had doubled in size since the last time.
"Afternoon." Vander greeted as civilly as he could. "Welcome to the last drop, gentlemen. What can I get you?"
Confidence wasn't the only thing in abundance today.
"Five sump rats will do." Marcus stated.
Vander grounded his teeth, doubling down on his efforts to remain calm. Hoping the light twitches he felt would not be so visible to draw attention. Anger and dread fought for control in his mind.
Did someone snitch on the children? If so, who? He could only think of the punks VI and the others had beaten up. Still, what would they get from this? Some petty revenge? Moreover, who did they possibly tell? Grayson? This could be her doing?
No, no. He stopped himself. This was a tightrope, and any knee-jerk reaction would be a one-way trip to the hole.
He would have to play along, and maybe the truth would come out.
"I'm afraid we don't sell those in here." He casually replied. "But I know a good place that does. A few blocks away."
Marcus scoffed, unamused at the jest. "I'm sure you do." Without turning, he ordered the two enforcers. "Search the place."
Very daring today.
Vander thanked whatever power there was that the kids were out.
He watched as the two Piltys went their separate ways in the hall. One goes up the stairs, the other to the basement. Not to raise any more suspicion, he addressed Marcus again.
"Well then." He said with a shrug. "While you are all wasting your time, how about a proper drink?" He backed away from the counter after the offering, turning around already searching for a bottle.
"I'll take the strongest shit you got."
Uh, he did not know how it was on the top side, but whatever was considered strong up there sure wasn't in the same sort as the lanes.
"Your call." Vander already had a drink of choice.
Soon, Marcus had a filled cup in hand. He twirled the liquid around for some time, suspicion clear in his eyes. Flinching when taking a sniff from it. Definitely thinking of the chance that it was poisoned. Vander almost laughed at the sight, taking a new drag from his pipe. However, he wouldn't lie; the idea was tempting in some aspects. The cons outweighed the pros though.
Save it for dreams, he decided.
Finally finding courage, Marcus took a sip. A blink later, he grimaced. Try as he might, it looked like his body wanted the drink out.
It wasn't called devil's breath for nothing.
"Bucket is over there." Vander casually pointed to the right.
Marcus merely glared at him, taking a deep breath. Forcibly, he pushed the drink down, swallowing it. He groaned afterwards, lightly shaking his head as if would take away the taste.
"Mm. Some advice? Never ask for the strongest from the get-go." Vander stated. "You gotta built up to it."
Marcus replied after clicking his tongue. "From this place, better to avoid even the water."
Vander shrugged the insult off. "Everyone has their tastes, I guess." He went for a new drag, stopping when hearing a chuckle from the enforcer.
"Just as they have their secrets, wouldn't you say?"
Vander's eyes narrowed. Whatever remaining disgust from before had left the man's face. Now he had a smirk in his lips and smugness in his eyes. "In the mood for sharing some?" Vander put it to him, curious and unsettled about where this conversation was heading.
"Not me." Marcus shook his head. "But I nearly forgot to mention. Ran into an old friend of yours."
Vander tilted his head. Friend? That shortened the list of whistleblowers. Yet there were still many who knew of his past.
Marucus's smile grew.
"And he had some stories to tell, especially about an old wolf." He added, putting the cup back in the counter. "You weren't always the peacekeeper, were you? And definitely not the best in keeping your people alive."
Control slipped from Vander's grasp, just for a moment. Next thing he knew, a part of the counter sunk and broke where his fist hit. He heard others rising from their seats, taking it as sign to act. Quickly raising his other hand, he told them to stay put; they could not afford the situation to escalate further. Even if he enjoyed seeing Marcus flinch, and back away a step, the smile dropping from his face. That is, until it returned, wider and more arrogant than before.
"Touchy matter, uh?" Marcus asked.
Oh, how he wanted to rip that smile off with his bare hands.
Grunting instead, Vander turned his gaze down. Looking at his own reflection in the drink. Once again being assaulted with the memories. This time he let them stay.
"Yeah, well, you can't escape the past. Right?" He put it to Marcus first, before jerking his head up towards the left. "Yet, something's are better off staying in it. Sure, would be a shame to put them on again."
Marcus followed the indication. It had been years since Vander left them hanging there. His old gauntlets. His old tools in the mines. And his weapons. He still remembered the feeling of them in his arms. At times, it felt wrong to take them off.
"Cast iron's, well, it's hard to clean when they get dirty." Vander continued, focusing solely on the enforcer now. "But it ain't like that they would be needed for some people." He made the meaning clear.
As much as he tried to keep his self-righteous attitude, and his anger at the threat, Vander could practically see the nervousness growing inside Marcus the more he talked. There would be no surprise if a rash reaction came soon.
It was thanks to the other enforcers returning from their search that it did not come to pass.
Marcus was all too eager to hear their reports, turning towards both each at the time.
Only to receive 'nothings' in the end.
Disbelief and frustration came forth as Marcus's eyes widened at the reveal. His face then shut with a deep scowl. Vander knew he was playing with fire, but he could not stop himself from smiling, with a brow raised and a light shrug, watching it happen.
And so, a lit match was thrown in the powder keg.
Marcus's anger boiled, and his jaw clenched as if he was willing himself to not something drastic.
In the end, with a deep breath release, he vented.
"You people down here are all the same, mistaking arrogance for bravery." Venom dripped from his words. He turned around, addressing all in the hall, looking at them with nothing but disgust and disdain. "You think you are standing up for something. Some fair cause. A dream. But we all know that there is a crime behind every coin that passes through this place." Shifting back to Vander, he added mockingly. "And you? You are just an animal thinking of yourself as the next king in a little hole the world forgot to bury. But be sure of one thing. I am gonna bury the lot of you!"
Reaching for his waist, Marcus pulled out a retractable baton.
Vander had enough.
Whatever the enforcer planned to use that thing on could be forgotten.
Leaning forward, dropping the pipe on the counter, his arm shot out, hand grasping and stopping Marcus's movements on its tracks.
With a shocked expression, the man barred his teeth at Vander, demanding. "Let go of me you – Aargh!" The words died when Vander applied the smallest of pressures on Marcus's wrist.
The other two enforcers finally registered what was happening.
"Hey!" The big one reached for his own baton, the other following suit. But before they could advance at Vander, countless sounds from behind drew their attention from him. The enforces looked back and forth, soon caught in a dilemma that had their wellbeing at stake. All others in the hall were on their feet, displaying aggressively whatever they could find in hand, and intentions clear in their narrowed eyes.
Vander thanked them for it. This was between him and the wincing excuse in his hand.
"Big words you got there." He said calmly, his voice sounding ten times louder in the quietness of the hall. Pulling the struggling Marcus closer. Face to face, Vander only wanted one thing. "But tell me something, if you don't mind. Are they yours, or Grayson's?"
He didn't have to wait too long or do much for the truth to present itself.
As one, the three enforcers froze, with two straightening their backs at the question. Even behind their masks, Vander could see the worried looks they exchanged. Marcus gulping was just the cherry on top.
His grip on the man's wrist tightened, attaining more pained groans from him.
"Ooooh." Vander voiced his understanding. "I see what this is now. Some nerve you have."
They came into his home. Making threats. Unsanctioned. And alone.
What a play they tried to pull.
Vander would have some very interesting news for the Sheriff.
KABOOM!
Before he could go further with Marcus, a loud sound exploded from outside. Flinching at how brasher it was for his ears, Vander lost his grip and the enforcer fell. Him and those of the Undercity were rightfully confused by it. Was someone using fireworks? What for?
Soon he saw that the reaction was not the same in Pilty's case.
"The signal!" The shorter enforcer said aloud, agitated. "We got to go, now!"
"You go ahead, we'll catch up." The big one replied, and not a moment later, the other was already booking out of the last drop, pushing past anyone in his way.
The big one did as he said, picking Marcus from the floor as he held on his near-crushed wrist.
"I'm good. I'm good!" Marcus stated after getting to his feet. "Go!" He jerked his head firmly to the exit.
The last Vander saw of him was one more heated glare, followed by his back as they left the establishment behind. While others were still trying to wrap their heads around what was going on,a realization hit Vander hard, his face turning a shade whiter. Those three were not as alone as he believed.
The children!
Earlier
It was one of those days. VI thought to herself, waving back and forth to avoid a final incoming attack wave. The boxing machine was set at its lowest level. Making it more of a practice for her reflexes than a true challenge. She hadn't even started to take quick breaths.
She had been going at it for some time in the arcade. Milo and Claggor even beat her to it in arriving first. The former was in the shooting range again. No doubt trying to get back at her little sister for the loss, he suffered in their match. Failing miserably if the constant and hidden cackles from the latter as he was watching the scene unfold were any indication.
Peter and Powder arrived later on.
The boy was on an inspirational high in his mind. Almost instantly, he went towards her, talking endlessly about doing some upgrades to the machine. With idea after idea. VI listened to them all, but deep down, she was not moved by the prospect. That was the only one they had. In addition, it was in mint condition.
She was not letting anyone touch it. Only over her dead body.
However, he was not the only one that came in radiant today.
It was the first time she saw her sister that day. She woke to find herself alone in the room. However, she quickly remembered what Powder's plans were. Her project. The one she would try to use those blue crystals she showed her on the rooftop the night before.
Up to that point, VI did not know what she had kept from their Piltover score. And from what she said, not even Powder knew what they were really. But she swore she would try to make good use of them.
Naturally curious about it, the first thing she asked Blue Head was how things went. When Powder told her that it was a bust, VI was ready to comfort and cheer her up. However, to her surprise and pride, there was no need for it. Turns out, giving old Howard a much-needed help with his arm had lifted Powder's spirits fully. VI, at that moment, wanted nothing more than for her sister to keep the shine present in her eyes forever.
Giving her a quick glance over the shoulder, seeing Powder chat lively with Claggor, another pleased smile came over VI. But, with her focus elsewhere, she missed part of what Peter was saying.
"- I'm sure I can do it."
"Aham….thanks. But, no thanks."
"C'mon, please?" He insisted.
"Peter…" She stared deadpan at him, dodging the last hit from the machine while doing so.
"I'm not gonna break it, I swear." The machine shut down as he pointed at it to press his wish.
Huffing, VI bit into the knots of her gloves, proceeding to pull them away. "You don't need to make everything better, you know that, right?"
"Shouldn't I try?" Peter asked honestly.
"Yes." VI replied. "But only when is the right time and place. Ok?" And not with my stuff, she left that part unsaid.
Peter's shoulders deflated, disappointed, but he still nodded in agreement with her decision on the matter. "Alright." He grumbled
"Hey, don't be like that." She said, dropping the gloves on the floor, giving a soft punch in his arm while walking pass him and down the set of stairs. "You'll get other things to work with."
She would have went towards the other end of the arcade. If not for the noise outside stopping her.
A cluster of voices, shouts, and curses.
What the hell? Frowning, VI walked towards a colored glass section in the wall. She leaned in over one of the cracks, giving her a view of the outside. Her breath caught up in her throat. Faced twisting grimly.
Enforcers.
A squad of five.
If their presence didn't already irritate her enough, what they were doing made it infuriating.
One held a woman by the arm, dragging her away. She did not stand idle by any means, pushing back, trying to pry the mask off his face. As a result, the enforcer all but threw her to the ground. Hand hovering over his head, he ordered her to move and go away, or else.
Other had an elderly man backed against the wall, baton pressed to his neck. He had his hands up in surrender, his nose bruised, bleeding, and becoming swollen. VI's fist closed at the sight.
Lastly, the other three had another man, a worker from his look, no older than Vander, surrounded. With one holding him by the back of his head, while the other held his shoulder, preventing much of his movement. This one caught her attention the most as they were actually talking with each other.
The third one stood in front of the man, looking down on him, arms crossed over his chest. "This could be a lot easier for us. Especially for you too. Just tell me where we can find them, and we will go."
His request was not taken kindly.
"Topsider's business ain't none of my concern." The man replied. "And what is this, you fuckers go on man-hunts for kids now?"
VI's head snapped back at the question. Kids? That is what the enforcers were looking for?
It meant she; Powder, Peter, Claggor, and Milo were the targets. But how did they even know?!
"Those brats made it made a concern for every one of you trenchers now." The enforcer stepped closer. "So I'm gonna ask one last time. Where are they?"
The man craned his head up to meet the enforcer's stare with one of his own. VI saw him opening his mouth as if to speak. For a moment, she felt her stomach twist at the thought that she and the others would be outed.
Instead, all he gave to the enforcer was a good shot of spit right in his mask.
While she gave him props for the courage, VI knew what was coming after. There was no time to lose.
"Vi ?" Thankfully, Powder approached her side, certainly wanting to ask what was happening on the other side. Those answers would have to come later.
"Guys." She said loud enough for only them to hear. With the call, all the boys turned to her instantly. "Turn off everything. We are leaving!"
"B-But why?" Claggor questioned, already feeling tense by her tone.
"Just do it!" VI stated firmly. "We don't have much-"
BLAM!
All five flinched and cried out when, out of nowhere, the class wall shattered open. Not by a thrown object. But by a body.
The interrogated man from before flew across the space. Landing the ground hard as he fell, rolling across the floor until his momentum ceased. He remained there after, unconscious.
None of them had the time to process the scene.
The hairs on the back of VI's neck stood up. She quickly turned around. Finding all five enforcers taking notice and staring straight in her direction. She felt Powder grasp her hand tightly, and together, both took a step back.
"Is it them?" One of the enforcers pointed.
"I don't know. Could be."
"Make sure and search each of them."
"Right. Hey! All of you. Stay where you are!"
VI could not dwell in the relief of any of them not being wanted as she thought, merely suspects. One by one, the enforcers entered the arcade through the hole they had made, their batons out and ready. It was small, but she felt Powder shake their hands to get her attention. Looking down, she saw desperation in her sister's eyes. For a good reason. Subtly, she patted her bag, giving it a small view on the inside.
VI almost cursed.
The crystals.
If even one of those were found with them…
"Alright, here what's gonna happen." By voice, that one was the enforcer asking questions. It seemed he was the one in charge. "Everyone is gonna stay calm. And if it all goes well, you will be on your way home soon, without a hair out of place. Deal?"
While VI, Powder, Claggor, and Peter kept their silence, Milo was much more daring with his attitude.
"Go ahead, assholes. We ain't got shit for ya." He boldly said to them.
VI wanted to punch him in the face.
"We will see about that, potty mouth." The leader replied, unamused.
They started the search with him. Checking every pocket, and any other place something could be hidden. With question after question as they did it. Not that any real answer would be given.
Claggor was next in line, going through the same process.
But then came Powder's turn.
Still holding on to VI, grip near to crushing, the enforcer's shadow fell upon her. "Hmm, let's see what you got."
The pinkette saw red.
Fat chance, jackass.
In her only option right there, VI hoped one of their exit plans would work.
"PETER!" She screamed.
He acted on the spot. Rushing over towards a power switch, Peter grabbed it, pulling it down.
For a moment, the arcade was dark. Before coming back to life with blinding neon blues and purples. The sudden change of light took the enforcers by surprise. That moment was all they needed.
"Run!" She pushed Powder back, propping her to go through the range's side. Peter wasn't far behind her, both running through the targets. Claggor pushed past the enforcers to follow them.
As for Her and Milo, they brought some time.
The lanky boy used one of the enforcers as a pad. Raising his leg, he kicked the man in the chest, creating distance between them, and using the momentum to flip over the boundary.
VI, on the other hand, saw a more vulnerable spot, pulling her arm back. Noticing it too late, the leader got a full punch right into his neck. He doubled over in pain, coughing up, trying to get his air back.
She did not stay long enough to see more of the sight.
"STOP!"
"Get them!"
The enforcers called from behind, but she did not even look back at them. Already the arcade's back door was open by the other's escape, and she saw them up head, waiting for her. When reaching the other side, VI grasped the door, shutting it close hard behind her.
She reached the group in a few paces, taking the lead, urging them with rapid gestures. "C'mon!"
Along the stretched, dark, and steam-filled streets, they ran, as fast as their legs could carry them. Propelled into not giving any ground with the echoes of heavy boots right at their backs.
But their dash came to an abrupt stop.
VI's heels slid across the floor as she halted, her arms opened wide to the sides, preventing the others from continuing. Up ahead, at the end of the street, other two enforcers came into view. Both were caught by surprise just as they were.
It did not take long for others to notice their presence.
"Blake!" The leader shouted. "Send the signal!"
The one called Blake snapped in attention, the words enough for him to understand the situation.
Looking back and forth, VI tuned out all sounds around, even as the signal was sent up into the sky, making enough noise that every corner of the Undercity could hear. All that mattered was finding a path for them to get away.
She almost missed it, but there it was, on the sidelines.
"Through there!" She pointed towards it, and the group followed.
"Where does this even lead?!" Milo asked.
"I don't know!" Vi admitted to the gamble she'd just taken. It was either that or ending up trapped on both sides. Between those, it was an easy choice to make on a whim. "Just keep running!"
The street was more akin to a corridor, she observed,with no other passages other than the path they were following. Good to not getting lost, but she prayed it was not a dead end.
Right on cue, there were mixed results on that front.
At the end of the path, they came into a brighter, open area. An old and abandoned gateway, large enough for dozens of people at once. Up above was a railing that acted as a surveillance post. Its gate's high double doors were just ahead, rust showing time's tool on it. While not the best, VI was open to anything at this point. And perhaps this could work as their saving moment.
"The gate!" Not wasting time, she made a beeline at it, the others soon doing the same right after.
VI grasped the doors and pulled.
It did not even budge.
Confused, she took a better look at it. Shortly finding out the cause.
A chain, still strong, kept the gates firmly closed.
And the lock to free it was on the other side.
"No..." She whispered in panic. "No, no, no!"
"VI, what is the- Ah, god dammit!" Claggor groaned. Soon, Milo, Powder, and Peter came to share in his feelings.
But one of them didn't lose hope yet.
"We can try pulling it open!" Peter stated.
"You crazy ?!" Milo replied. "Look at the size of it!"
"It's old. It can break together."
Not in the mood for their bickering, VI cut right in.
"We pull on three!" She said straight to the point. Her tone ceased any arguments as all five joined as one, each grasping a part of the gate.
"1…2…3!"
They pulled. Using every ounce of strength, they could summon in their hour of need.
But, even with the gate's groan by the force used, it remained as it was.
It was not long until they could not keep up anymore.
Letting go, they stepped away, breathing deeply, helplessly looking at the gate.
Then the enforcers caught up to them. Pouring, now in seven, from the street one by one. All their weapons out. One at the back came carrying in with him a heavier arsenal, pulling forth a rifle strapped to his back.
The kids remained close to each other at every step they took. Claggor and Milo standing defensively at the sides. Peter puts himself before Powder as a barrier.
"Ain't you devils a pain in the ass." The leader rasped through his mask, rubbing his neck where VI had punched him. "Just like everyone in this shit-hole."
VI scoffed at the insult.
"Now that you had your fun then, all of you are coming with us."
"We." She hissed in reply, moving to stand ahead of the group. "Are not going anywhere."
The leader tilted his head at her words. Grunting, he shifted his attention towards the armed enforcer. At the look, the same turned the weapon sideways, pulling a bullet from his belt pocket, and putting it in the chamber.
VI and the others froze for a second.
The leader saw their reactions, taking it as a chance to speak of their odds.
"Let me make things absolutely clear." He started. "We are going back with someone today. Be they willing, or not. In full health, or not." The armored enforcer raised the rifle; a shiver ran through the group. "How that's gonna go, is up to you." He pointed out; his hands open in their direction. "So, what you say, kid?"
None spoke, none moved, they simply remained there – at a crossroads – with their freedom, no, their lives, in the literal line of fire.
After a while, the armored enforcer's patience seemed to have run out at the impasse.
"Hoff, let's quit playing nice."
He loaded the shot.
The group leaned back in fear, raising their hands.
"Josiah, wait!-"
The shot was fired.
Missing its target.
Just as the enforcer was about to pull the trigger, out of nowhere, a long pipe flew in, hitting square in the hand. Josiah screamed, in surprise and pain, the weapon flying off from his grasp.
As he clenched his wounded hand, a new wave of stillness covered the area. As both adults and children turned their gazes anxiously at the direction which the pipe came from.
It was a pitch-black space in the corner. A dark void that none hope to see inside without a light.
For a moment, it seemed as if there was nothing there.
That was when it appeared.
Out of the shadows. Soundless steps. An eyeless pale face. A snarl in its lips. Shrouded in the very same darkness that it came from.
VI imagined everyone had the same look as her on their faces, watching the figure step into the open, unnerved. Without knowing how to react.
At least, almost all of them.
The pain led to ire and the desire for retribution. Josiah snapped in the figure's direction, his growls that of an animal. He armed himself with his baton, aiming it aggressively.
"The hell are you supposed to be, freak?!"
The figure stands there for a long, forbidding beat, silent.
It only worked to stroke more of the enforcer's anger.
"What? Throwing shit is all you know?" Filled with bravado, Josiah strode forward. The figure does the same as him, eerily calm against his imminent aggressor. However, the enforcer either did not notice, or did not care. In a few paces, they stood eye to eye. "You won't be talking at all when I'm done."
Josiah swings at the figure, eager, ready to fight.
Wholly unprepared.
The figure seizes his arm, using its attacker's momentum, locking it on a tight hold, and twists. There is a sickening snap, Josiah screams anew, but is quickly silenced as the figure delivers a rain of fast, furious, and precise head-snapping punches in the face. It does not take long until Josiah becomes nothing but an unmoving punching bag, his mask and goggles flung to the air. The figure keeps on punching, nonstop. And like that, the enforcer falls to the ground, the mess that his face had become exposed, moaning, bleeding, teeth shattered.
The figure, the masked man, stands over the body, the knuckles of his gloves now overlaid with red. Then he looks up at them, as they do him, stunned by the vicious display. The children do not have a drop of sympathy for Josiah's state, it was less than he truly deserved, but self-preservation tells them to keep away. The other enforcers whisper between themselves, holding on to their weapons more than before.
From a mile away, VI could see what would follow. And they would be caught in the chaos.
None of the two parties could anticipate what the figure would do next.
Lips between his teeth, he suddenly whistled.
A metallic sound turned all heads. And right in front of her, a ladder fell.
Wide-eyed, she craned her head up to the surveillance post. Finding Ekko! With the white-haired boy standing on the platform, over the ladder.
"Over here!" He called for them to climb up.
VI urged, jumping, grabbing on the rungs, going up. "C'mon!"
She didn't have to say it twice.
The rest quickly went after, pulling themselves to the top.
Standing side by side with Ekko, making sure all would make it, VI feared the enforcers would try and stop them from leaving. Thankfully, even if they noticed, the masked man proved to be of a greater concern for them in that moment.
When Peter finally reached the top, the post's deteriorating state came in handy. VI kicked the ladder hard. The locks splintered, falling apart, and the ladder fell to the ground below. No one would follow them through it.
As the others were already out of view, she spared the scene one last glance. Looking at their mysterious savior, whoever he may be. Questions came and went, and there would be no answers for them, she realized when moving away. In the end, she hoped he would be ok, uttering a low thank you.
Anytime. Matt thought in reply.
He heard the steps getting further and further away, without any interruptions. Taking it as Ekko guiding them to safety for now.
It was a strike both of them running into each other. And that no questions were asked, even with the obvious suspicion on the boy's part, when Matt stated he wanted to help, and that others were in danger.
Time to improve their odds.
Spreading, the enforcers moved in to corner him at all possible sides. He showed no reaction still, looking down, focused. Their hearts were a symphony of rapid drums; they reeked of sweat, their steps turbulent against the ground.
Nervous.
His work with the bastard who tried to fire the gun went just as Matt wanted it to. A moment of release he much desired.
On the roofs, he had been following their search throughout the lanes. Patiently waiting for a chance to strike. A pacience severely tested every time he witnessed the senseless abuse against his people. The threat against the children, his brothers and sisters, was the last drop that overflew the cup.
Matt heard the drums getting louder, beating stronger.
It was coming, all signs pointed to it, battle. Good. He would not miss this opportunity.
He drew in a slow breath, letting it curse through all him, readying his body, his senses, taking every detail of the field. As he was once taught. Not enough to equal to mastery of his teacher in their years of training. A balanced mind and an iron fist. Matt still had ways to go to get there.
But for this? It was more than enough.
They were dangerous, but so was he.
A baton turned, and the enforcers went for the attack.
Finally.
Matt ducked to avoid a swing that would have hit him on the side of the head. He answered by using his elbow, striking the enforcer in the stomach. He doubled over, vulnerable, allowing Matt to deliver a sharp right uppercut on his face, his body thrown back by the force behind it. In a split-second reaction, he spun around, leg raised for a kick. It came so fast, the enforcer only realized it happened when dazedly looking up from the ground. Another came in, throwing a punch of his own. It is wide and sloppy. Matt merely side-steps it, hitting the enforcer with a right cross, followed by a left, and with the momentum he jumps, twisting the air as if floating for a second, landing two consecutive accurate kicks that knock the enforcer's mask off as he falls.
It became a mad flurry of exchanges. Matt moving with fluid dodges and acrobatics, coupled by hard kicks and fists blows. The enforces land hits too, some proving harder to put down than Josiah was. Time becomes a non-factor, but Matt knows that this cannot go on forever. No matter how skillful, at some point, he or his foes would tire out. And it would not be him.
With his own hands not being enough, a change of methods was needed.
As an enforcer goes in for a hit, Matt seizes his arm as he did before. Only this time Matt raised his elbow, striking the jaw, swiping him across the face right after, buying enough time to reach under his legs. Matt lifts the enforcer over his shoulder, dropping him hard back down. The impact bares results, and the enforcer's baton slips from his hand.
Ending right in Matt's own. Who raises the weapon, hitting the downed topsider squared in the forehead.
That one would not be getting up for a while.
However, he is not done.
Using the baton, he blocks a following attack, the weapons clashing against one another. Twisting the hold in an arch, he sends his foe's weapon up in the air. Matt pushes the disarmed enforcer away, casually opening his free hand. With the second baton falling in it.
Matt took a quick second to get the feel of them, easily spinning them between his fingers. It was just as he remembered from years ago.
The five remaining enforcers regrouped at the distance, worse for wear, yet with some fight still in them.
Matt was would be glad to answer the bravery. But In the brief period of calm, his head turns to the side by a sound. A voice.
'The signal came from this place. They have to be here somewhere, find them!'
Marcus. With two others alongside him. Reinforcements.
He knew the noise would attract them to the gate. So he would have to make this quick.
Focusing on the five. His attentions were clear.
And this time, there was no, assessing, no waiting, nor hesitating from either side.
The enforcers screamed, charging against him. He moved in with a burst of speed. Catching closest enforcers, one being that he had unmasked, by surprise through a leap, driving the batons between their eyes. They hadn't even fallen when Matt was already onto the next one. With a hard swipe, and placing one of the batons on the neck to hold the enforcer in place, Matt hit him with the other stick, snapping his head back at each strike, finishing off with a knee to the chest when finally putting him to sleep. When the last dared to get close enough, Matt's moves blurred, unleashing a series of rapid left and right blows, leaving the enforcer without reaction against it. Blinking, he only noticed Matt's head driving right into his own before all turned dark.
Click.
However, victory was not yet in hand.
Rolling on the ground, Matt narrowly avoided gunshots in his direction, hiding a wince at the sound being so close.
Turns out, the masked enforcer was tougher than he looked. The man was on one knee, his mouth bloody, holding a pistol in one hand. He kept on firing as Matt moved out of the way, the pain and his wounds affecting his aim.
Bad for him. Not for Matt.
Reacting fast, he flipped, spinning horizontally in the air, retracting both of the batons mid-way. He lined his shot, just as the man readied to fire again, and threw.
The weapons flew, hitting against the stone walls on both sides. And bounced off them.
Finding their target in the back of the enforcer's head.
There was flinch upon impact, the pistol slipped, eyes rolled up, and he fell face first on the floor.
Matt panted, allowing the adrenaline inside to fade little by little, while he listened to heavy breaths, blood drips, and painful whimpers of his fallen enemies.
It was over.
He rose to his feet, staring at the scene, and thinking. He did not know on whose orders the enforces acted upon. But, no matter what, this could be a complication for Ben and Vander going forward. One that he had a hand in possibly making worse. Not that he would regret what he had done here. Still, is the law of the world, every action has a consequence. Time would show who would be the ones to bear it.
'I heard shots! Over there!'
As he had predicted, the commotion brought the reinforcements, their footsteps approaching.
Taking it as a cue, Matt ran back from whence he came.
He did what set out to do. It was time to go home.
Grayson was not in the best mood.
Piles of paperwork in the morning.
Wishing to lose her hearing in the afternoon after listening to the council for hours on.
And now, when it should have been her time to unwind, finish up some small duties, and retire for the day, her second in command was missing. And she had no clue where he could have gone.
Walking through the headquarters offices, Grayson searched everywhere for Marcus, going up a list of people to ask.
Which led her right to the next ones.
She found them together, conversing at ease, one on his table's seat, short black hair, stubble growing along his chin, a cigar between his fingers, something she had prohibited a thousand times over inside these halls. The other, black skinned with a simple mustache in his shaven face, standing against a wall, holding his helmet.
Approaching, she got to hear part of their conversation.
"And I told him, son, you know how your mom is. You can't hide anything from her. Now, ask if he listened to me, or even his uncle?"
"That would be a big no."
"Damn right! Now he's all upset, AND grounded."
"Hah! These kids Jeff, I swear."
"And you got two of them."
"Just the boy for now. Still got one or two years until my girl starts acting up."
"Wishing you good luck on that, Frank."
"Bah, I'll live."
As enjoyable as the conversation seemed to be, Grayson did not want to be held up any more than she already was.
"Castle. Morales." She said in her Sherriff tone.
The results were instant.
Morales turned towards her, at attention. Castle on the other hand, hissed a 'shit!' under his breath, licking his thumb and squishing the cigar under it, rising from the chair.
"Afternoon, ma'am." He said as if nothing had happened.
Grayson resisted shaking her head. "…Afternoon. How are both doing?"
"Just fine, ready to head home." Morales replied, with Castle nodding in agreement.
Aren't we all? Grayson thought.
"Sure has been another long day." She stated. "So I'll make this quick. Have any of you two seen Marcus around?"
Both men frowned, looking at each other to see if one had the answer. Turns out, it was another dead-end.
"No, not really." Morales said. "Usually he's with you, ma'am."
"And today he decided to up and disappear." She revealed to them, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Damn that man. If only her worries were solely of him missing.
"Actually." Castle said suddenly, getting her attention. "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Bill all day as well."
Grayson raised a brow.
"Yeah." Morales then added to Castle's revelation. "Hoffman and Blake also weren't in their desks today. Hell, I didn't even find Simpson hiding away outside in the back with his boys as he usually does. Weird."
For some dreadful reason, the Sheriff did not enjoy this string of coincidental disappearances in those serving under her. Moreover, the feeling growing in her gut wasn't the most pleasant she had.
She opened her mouth to question then if anyone else was strangely missing.
"Sherriff." Coming in running towards her, a scrip from the department called. Stopping with a salute, she saw he had a message scroll in hand. Lifting it, he said. "This just came in for you, ma'am."
What now?
"Thank you." She nodded in gratitude. Taking the scroll and giving it a look, she soon recognized who sent it. "Vander?" She murmured. A hopeful part of her wished this was him saying his part of the bargain had been held, and the delicate situation they were in had finally come to an end.
She opened the scroll, the paper inside rolling out. She went to read it.
Castle, Morales, and the scribe jumped, seeing Grayson go from reading quietly whatever was written, to outright throw the scroll on the pristine floors, a murderous look on her face.
"I'm gonna kill him."
(END)
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! (Well, late Christmas by now.) Hope you had a wonderful time, gifts, and parties with your families.
And here we are, almost a year since the last chapter….My bad. Glad I could finish this and the others before the New Year's, tho.
Now, Arcane S2.
Wow.
Like I said to Ringropes, what a fucking journey the show was, from start to finish. The characters, the music, the visuals (I could spend days talking about those, my god, they outdone themselves in this season), the story (My lore nerd side has some thoughts about it, but as its own thing ? Close to no complaints). It took plenty of time and a LOT of money to make it, but both were well spent to deliver an amazing experience.
Kudos to the whole team, from riot to the beautiful humans in Fortiche, for the work they did. And for the work they have planned already. To the news lands we go! And also some continuations for the characters already known.
Can't wait to play with the material in the future.
Speaking of which, as you can see, the devil was out in this chapter. Peter may be our main marvel guy in this, but good old Murdock sure going to get a lot of love from me. Especially while waiting for the Born Again series (Drop the trailer Marvel! Please!). Not to mention both him and Peter together in the "Friendly Neighbor Spider-man", which looks like a lot of fun, plus the tie-in comics are surprisingly good.
Anyway, Marcus done goofed this time. Hard.
And the pot keeps on boiling to that moment….God, that part is gonna be a nightmare to write…
Gonna have to get it done nonetheless.
All those mumblings aside, I hope you people enjoyed the chapter.
Until next time.
Stay safe.
Have a happy New Year's.
PEACE!