So, significant spoilers for Arcane abound; I seriously recommend NOT reading this if you haven't seen the show yet.
Seriously, watch that shit; it's godamn fantastically awesome in every way possible.
As this is just a one-shot, things like how Sonnie ended up in Zaun and how she met Powder are left blank for the sake of storytelling.
12/12/2021 edit: No longer a one-shot due to episode nine being a massive gut punch.
Music for the chapter is from Imagine Dragons and Starset.
Vi had promised to keep the blue crystals existence secret from the others, and Powder had happily agreed.
That didn't stop her from feeling guilty about keeping secrets from her sister, moreso because the secret she held meant to loot she'd thrown in the river Pilt wasn't gone forever.
"I'm not a Jinx," Powder muttered as she left The Last Drop behind. "Stupid Mylo doesn't know what he's talkin about."
It hadn't been her fault that monkey hadn't worked like he was supposed to! The bomb was supposed to blow up and hurt that nasty thug and make them leave, not fizzle out and force her to throw the loot bag in the river. Powder scowled and kicked a dented can further down the deserted path leading towards the Pilt, imagining it was Mylo's nasty head for the things he'd made Vi say. But, her sister was fierce, kind and would never insult Powder unless she was being forced to, as Mylo did! Unbidden, her fingers brushed over the blue crystals she'd stolen from the rich person's apartment, the act comforting Powder as it reminded her of the secret she shared with her sister.
She would get the loot back and show everyone she wasn't a useless jinx!
Nobody this deep in the Lanes would even think about bothering Powder as she travelled through the narrow streets and alleys, and the one man that moved towards her got dragged off by his companions. Vander's word was law down here, no matter what anyone from Piltover thought... even if the Enforcers were really scary. Powder shivered and glanced around for the faceless symbols of Upper oppression, but they stayed in her memories... and her nightmares. So, eager to dismiss those dark thoughts, she moved into a run and let instinct carry her out into the relatively open walkways flanking the river Pilt.
Following the route from memory, Powder deliberately ignored the spot the thug had cornered her and walked towards a nearby empty boathouse. From the outside, it looked no different than the day she'd first entered it over a year ago, the windows still smashed or boarded up while the walls were a blend of faded paint and gang tags. With the doors facing the river bulged outwards and sealed from the explosion that had wrecked the place, nobody had bothered using the boathouse for its intended purpose. Powder was thankful people were lazy, for it let her wriggle under a half-collapsed doorway with her backpack pulled along behind. Thanks to the handful of intact windows caked in grime, the interior was nigh invisible, but her hand landed on a switch and hit the lights. Haphazard illumination purloined from half a dozen junkheaps, and a couple of proper lamps from Benzo's store revealed the person she was here to see.
A monster from the depth's of children's nightmares lounged on a pile of ragged cushions and mattresses, deep indigo scales and bone-white armour simultaneously drinking in and reflecting the light. They were like an unholy cross between a human and a lizard, possessing dexterous fingers capped with rending claws and a body that could shift between biped and quadruped on a whim. The quartet of tails hanging from the back of their skull merged together as its owner noticed Powder's entrance. Slitted green eyes lit up above an angular muzzle full of razor-sharp teeth as they gave their version of a smile and waved her over.
"Was wondering when you'd show up, Kid!" She called in a surprisingly human voice only to falter as she noticed Powder's expression. "Something wrong?"
In response, Powder dropped her bag and dashed across the room, breaking down into wordless sobs as she hugged the monster. Every emotion she'd experienced during the day came crashing down simultaneously, though she could still feel the rough bone against her cheek. Hugging her friend was never a comfortable experience, but Powder needed someone who wouldn't treat her like a useless kid.
"Everyone hates me, Sonnie," she muttered into the monster woman's chest. "They think I'm a jinx..."
A warm paw gently pressed against her back. "I doubt that, Powder."
"They do!"
Sonnie sighed, blowing hot air across Powder as she adjusted herself to sit comfortably.
"How about you tell me what happened, and I'll give my advice then?" The Beastie waited patiently until the young girl looked at her through teary eyes. "Deal?"
Powder nodded, wiping at her nose before the snot grew out of control and went everywhere. There was no judgement in Sonnie's inhuman eyes, though her face wasn't exactly easy to read at the best of times. But, still, Powder accepted the offered deal and just let it all out, withholding nothing from the monster who was happy to listen.
The story began with Vi inviting her along for their raid on the house tipped off by Little Man. Even though the day had quickly turned nasty, Powder faintly smiled as the remembered excitement she'd felt resurfaced as she told the tale. Sneaking across the bridge separating Zaun and Piltover followed, keeping away from the roving Enforcer's sight even as she recalled the sweat leaving her grip weak during a terse moment. Powder couldn't help breaking the hug and using her arms to visualise the rooftop run across Piltover towards the house, with even the close-calls with ledges being exciting through the lens of memory. It had been a chance to show everything Vi had taught her, and Powder had done well... despite what Mylo said!
Even the initial breaking in had been enjoyable, the rush of getting back at the Uppers mixing with the amusement she felt when Vi kicked down the doors when Mylo was too slow. Powder giggled at the memory of the older boy's face before what happened next forcibly intruded into her mind and killed the enjoyment. But, after she withdrew the blue crystals from her pocket to show Sonnie and talk about the explosion, the Beastie did the unexpected.
"What caused the explosion, Powder?" She questioned. "Piltover isn't so different from my home that houses just randomly explode like that."
"I..." Powder's reflexive 'I don't know' died on her lips as she cast her mind back to the Upper's apartment.
She'd been fawning over the multi-faceted blue crystals in their locked box when someone had tried to enter the house. There had been a lot of panic and shouting as everyone scrabbled to leave, and Powder had tripped over her feet in her hurry to escape. She recalled stuffing the fistful of gems in her pocket as she scrambled upright... and seeing one of them fall out and spit out sparks as it rolled towards the wall.
The handful of gems in her hand was suddenly a lot scarier. "I..." Powder nervously bit her lip. "I dropped one of these, and it started glowing as I ran away."
Sonnie blinked. "One of those caused the explosion from being dropped on the floor?"
"I think so?"
The monster lady bent down and sniffed the handful of gems. "Fuckin hell, these reek of ozone." She fixed Powder with a stern look. "Lock that shit up, Kid; anything that volatile ain't something to carry in a pocket."
In one of the scariest experiences of Powder's short life, she had to scramble to find containers for the incredibly dangerous gems without losing her grip on them. But, thankfully for her racing heart, Sonnie used her tails to deposit the sturdiest boxes in the boathouse beside Powder, though the girl had to find rags to cushion the crystals. Finally, as she carefully inserted the last blue gem into an old mining explosive cylinder and sealed it, she fell on her butt with an explosive sigh of relief.
Inexplicably, Powder started giggling, and nothing she did stopped the sounds from escaping her lips. Her attempts to still the trembling in her hands failed as Powder found the hand she used to brace would start trembling and forcing a swap. Finally, alarmed and on the verge of tears, she found herself tucked into Sonnie's relatively softer side, where the bone armour was thinner.
"Just let it all out," Sonnie advised. "You're just coming down from the adrenaline high, is all."
Powder cast the woman a questioning look through watery eyes.
"It's something your body makes when it knows you're in danger. But, when you're safe, you come crashing down and need time to recover."
True to their word, Powder's limbs stilled as the pounding in her ears began to fade as the minutes passed. Unprompted, her gaze drifted to the deceptively lethal boxes and the realisation that she'd been one bad stumble from... from blowing up as the house did. Course, the half-dozen that Powder had would have made a far larger boom, maybe big enough to see from the other side of Zaun.
"Things starting to sink in, eh?" Sonnie questioned with an audible grin.
Powder nodded. "Mhmm."
"Why don't you finish the story, then I'll find somewhere that isn't the floor to keep those gems?"
The young gadgeteer found that idea preferable to wondering how close she'd been to die, so she did just that. She started with escaping the enforcers, the desperate flight through the streets of Piltover without the cover of the rooftops. It had been frightening yet fun, and Powder got an understanding nod from Sonnie before explaining how they'd escaped down the sewer pipe and run into the small gang. Somehow, despite knowing Vi and the others were fighting to protect her, Powder had been scared by the violence while hating herself for needing protection. Compared to that, getting chased to the Pilt, failing to blow the thug up and tossing the loot in the river barely registered as she recalled Mylo's nasty words and how... how her sister agreed with them.
Sonnie digested the story for a long few minutes before speaking. "Your family doesn't hate you, Powder."
"How can you say that?!" Powder shouted, not expecting that response. "I told you what Mylo and Vi said about me!"
"And what about Claggor? You didn't say anything about Vander's reaction, Kid." Sonnie ran a claw down the bladed ridge running down her muzzle. "That's two of the four that didn't say anything bad about you, which isn't even counting Ekko. But, look, you gotta understand that teenagers are all little monsters."
Powder's face scrunched in confusion. "Little monsters?" She echoed.
"Yep, especially people like Vi or Mylo who wear their hearts on their sleeves." The monster lady rapped a fist against her chest. "Everyone's got a bit of monster in them, Powder, and sometimes it escapes when they get emotional and makes them say or do things they don't mean."
Understanding dawned. "So when Vi said those things...?"
"Your sister lost control of the monster within like Mylo did." Sonnie gently tapped Powder on the head with a solitary talon. "Smart people like you can recognise when the monster tries to escape and tell it to shut the fuck up. But not everyone's a genius like you, Kid, so they need help with it."
The fog that had been pressing on Powder's mind vanished as if the sun had come up and burned it all away. But, as she clung to Sonnie and struggled not to cry happy tears over the older woman, a question came to her lips.
"What about you?"
"Huh?"
"How do you deal with your monster?" Powder asked.
Curiously, Sonnie was silent and said nothing, merely staring off into the distance like the gadgeteer had seen Vander do when he thought nobody was watching. It wasn't a reaction the monster lady usually gave, making her surprise chuckle all the more unusual.
"She and I reached an agreement a long time ago, Powder, with the help of a fantastic group of friends." Then, still chuckling under her breath, she carefully pried Powder from her torso. "I think it's time you headed back to The Last Drop; Vi's probably worried about you."
"Ooops!" Then, with one last hug, Powder was snatching her bag up and squeezing through the entrance to the outside.
Sonnie silently watched the blue-haired girl leave before getting up off the floor and stretching like a cat. A series of pops rang out as the kinks in her spine vanished, allowing the Beastie to lie down on her front and study the secure boxes.
"Powder's far too smart for this shithole," she said to empty air. "She's the sort of kid who'd get into the good schools and off to Jupiter with only her brains. Yet she's stuck in this retro dump, even if it makes Sheffield look like a kiddie park." Sonnie chuckled under her breath. "You and Jacob would have been all over this place, Wes; fucking grunge mixing with magical steampunk bullshit is right up your alley."
Sighing, Sonnie idly played with the catch on the nearest box.
"Probably a bad sign that I'm talking to ghosts, but you always said my weird brain was what let me be Khanivore, Ivrina." Flipping the lid, she played with the weirdly familiar crystal within. "If I didn't know better, I'd say... Nah, no way in hell they're related."
Switching to all fours, Sonnie closed the box and moved towards the hole by the doors filled with murky water. "I need a fucking drink."
The terror of the British underground Beastie circuit vanished into the river Pilt without a sound, leaving in search of alcohol powerful enough to get past her enhanced livers. Maybe she'd take a detour and recover the loot that Powder tossed into the water as a treat for the kid.
Booze first, though.
Relaxing with an only somewhat illegally obtained cask of alcohol later that night, the last thing Sonnie expected was to see Powder struggling through the entrance. Concerned, the Beastie put down her booze and sat up as the young gadgeteer's red eyes and snot-streaked face made themselves known before she slammed into Sonnie's chest. Powder was trying to say something, but her words were impossible to understand.
The sickly sweet tang of fear rolling off the kid in waves wasn't, though.
So, ignoring the scrabbling coming from the ruined doorway, Sonnie hugged the girl. "Shit, Kid; what's wrong?"
"Vander... took him... Benzo... Vi... She left me!" The heart-wrenching wail died as Powder broke down into complete despair. The Beastie frowned as she began putting the out of context words together, but a truncated squeak from the entrance made her head snap towards the noise. Ekko, for that, was the only person the dark-skinned boy with white hair could be, fell on his ass and backpedalled until his back hit the rubble piled the doorway.
"What happened?" Sonnie demanded, nostrils flaring as she scented him.
Ekko's gaze darted from the monster's frightening gaze to the sobbing figure of Powder clinging to them for support. Then, showing more steel than damn near every adult in the circuits, the boy met Sonnie's eyes.
"Vander stopped Vi from giving herself up to the Enforcers for the heist," he began with barely a wobbling lip. "Benzo was with him, but... but then some kind of m-monster killed most of the Enforcers and... and Benzo." Even with unshed tears making his eyes shine, Ekko kept going. "Silco controlled the monster, and he took Vander to the old fish cannery."
Sonnie didn't know who this Silco was, but her glare softened. "What's wrong with Powder?"
"I told Vi about Vander, and she took Mylo and Claggor to rescue him."
"Leaving Powder behind because of the danger," Sonnie finished with a sinking feeling in her gut.
The blue-haired girl in question chose that moment to cease wailing and glare at the Beastie abruptly.
"Vi left me behind cause she thinks I'm a jinx!" Powder's eyes landed on the boxes with their volatile contents. "And I'm gonna blow the monster up with..."
"No."
"No?" The girl echoed.
"Hell to the fuck no," Sonnie growled. "I'm not letting you get yourself killed making a bomb with those."
Powder's expression twisted into something nasty even as she danced on the edge of another breakdown. "B-But... but I need..."
Brushing a hand through the gadgeteer's mussed hair, the Beastie took stock of everything and came to a decision.
"Ekko," she said and waited for him to look up from his feet. "There's a pile of old medkits in the corner by the riverside door; grab the two with intact locks; they're full."
Bless his little heart, the white-haired kid's eye's widened before he ran across the boathouse to do as asked. With that sorted, Sonnie turned her attention to the vulnerable explosive genius trembling in her arms and lifted their head with the side of a talon.
"Powder, look at me?"
Painfully fragile blue eyes met her slitted green orbs.
"We're going to help Vander and your family, but I need you to make those smoke bombs of yours."
"Why smoke bombs?"
Even though the girl wouldn't understand, Sonnie couldn't help but laugh as she pried them off and nudged Powder towards her spare toys-turned-bomb pile she kept at the boathouse.
"So the monster who killed Benzo won't see me coming, Kid. Didn't anyone ever tell you that even the worst monsters are scared of things they can't see?"
Leaving Powder to her work, the Beastie rolled her shoulders and threw the half-empty cask of alcohol a longing glance. But, as she resigned herself to losing what little buzz she'd gained, Sonnie marched over to the warped riverside doors and dug her hands into the metal. Explosion damage and years of rust and corrosion fought against geneforged Bitech muscle and gradually lost ground with the squeal of seized gears grinding to life. Zaun's omnipresent glow and unique stench greeted Sonnie as she wrenched the doors open for the first and possibly last time, but that didn't stop her from taking a moment to savour the freedom. There was something about viewing the nostalgic grunge and rundown riverside of the city that reminded her of growing up in London, even if Piltover's shining beacon was a bloody eyesore.
She must have spent too long enjoying the view, for a cough from behind alerted Sonnie to Ekko and Powder expectantly looking up at her with their arms full of medkits and grenades, respectively. The courage in their tiny bodies and expressions was eery coming from someone so young, so she crouched down and met their gazes in turn.
"You'll be riding on my back, okay?" She waited for them to nod. "But I'll need directions to where Vander's being held."
"I can do it," Ekko spoke up.
"Cheers. Now, hold on tight."
Sonnie split her tails and gently wrapped two of them around the kids before lifting them level with her shoulders. Neither gave so much as a peep despite the constrictive grip before she felt them grab on, prompting the Beastie to step onto the damaged slipway. Then, turning, she forced the protesting doors shut and swiftly climbed the building's facade. Once the monster lady reached the roof and gazed across the densely packed and smog-filled rooftops of Zaun, there was a tap on her shoulder.
"The cannery's that way," Ekko gestured, pointing towards a squat construction far down the river.
Sonnie sucked in a deep breath of probably toxic air and grinned. "Let's go!"
Brick shattered beneath her feet as she kicked off, her powerful leg muscles bunching as they absorbed the force of the landing on the next rooftop. But, having recognised the dwelling as inhabited, she avoided jumping and sprinted across the concrete and bounced across. But, as Sonnie ran with two noisy bundles clinging to her for dear life, her hearts barely sped up from their resting tempo. The sheer conscious effort kept the glands of performance enhancers and synthetic drugs lining her spine from pumping their payloads into her arteries solely because she couldn't afford to use them before a fight. But, as the Baiter-turned-Beastie let herself get lost in the familiar motions of traversing rooftops (Khanivore's incredible balance countering the lost muscle memory), she didn't need to force herself to relax.
London and Zaun were both festering shitholes, but they shared enough similarities to make her feel at home.
Sonnie left a trail of disgruntled homeowners, barking guard animals and more than a few errant shots behind as she made a bee-line for the cannery. Of course, the reaction couldn't be helped given how much she weighed compared to her old form, but those changes didn't stop the Beastie from giving a shocked Enforcer patrol the finger as she leapt over their heads. Sonnie gamely ignored the puff of yellow smoke that erupted not five seconds later, though she did check on Ekko and Powder when they started giggling.
Fucking with the Peelers was a rite of passage, in her humble opinion.
Unfortunately, the delinquents fell silent as the dilapidated husk of the abandoned cannery loomed from Zaun's omnipresent smog. Finally, Sonnie skidded to a halt on the second to last rooftop before the factory to address her passengers.
"You both obey every order I give from here on out, okay?"
Solemn nods were the only response.
"Alright, Powder, throw your smoke bombs at any bad guys you see." Then, seeing Powder's worried frown, she assuaged the girl. "I won't be affected, so go wild."
"Okay," the firm declaration would have been funny if not for the armful of colourful bombs she held.
Ekko raised a hand. "W-What about me?"
Sonnie ignored the waver and kept her voice level. "Hold onto the medkits like your life depends on it."
The grim acceptance on the boy's face was horribly out of place, but the former Baiter knew there was no convincing the kids otherwise. So, after a second of convincing herself that the pair needed to help their adoptive family and damn the risks, she set her sights on the cannery's roof.
This time, rather than utilise all her strength, Sonnie gently (or as close as two tons of Bitek pit fighter can manage) approached the factory's wall and sunk her claws into the brickwork. The pace was slow on account of only having two tails for boosting, but the delay gave her time to pick out what sections were robust enough to bear her weight briefly. The Beastie's enhanced hearing picked out the distinctive thump of fists on flesh and focussed on it, but the momentary distraction cost her as the brick she grabbed tore away. Cursing under her breath, Sonnie growled and concentrated on climbing to the glass-paned roof that was barely out of reach, mindful of her grip. Sticking her head over the rim, Powder's gasp clued her into the situation better than any words could.
Through sheer luck, Sonnie found herself watching a redheaded girl who must be Vi beating the absolute shit out of a bunch of thugs on a narrow walkway. She immediately recognised the sharp jabs and weaving ducks of a skilled pugilist, even if the bloodstained metal gauntlets looked more at home in a mine than a boxing ring. But, as Sonnie watched, a twitching and moaning figure detached itself from the shadows on the far side and stumbled towards Vi even as the teen finished off her last foe with a brutal uppercut that sent them over the edge. The crates of glowing purple tubes looked like some dodgy shit, but the former Baiter's eyes narrowed as the stumbling fucker's body started giving off the same glow as it warped unnaturally.
She'd bet all the money she didn't have that this was the monster that had wasted the Enforcers and Benzo.
Then, without any fanfare, Sonnie slammed a fist into the weakened glass panels and jumped down, aiming for the midpoint between Vi and the deformed brute. But, instead, the tails securing Powder and Ekko unfurled to deposit them beside the bloodstained redhead, though not before the former tossed her armful of chattering bombs across the walkway. Sonnie landed with a bang, metal deforming around her feet as the bridge creaked dangerously, though the multicoloured smoke eruption from below brought her thoughts back to the fight.
The deformed brute raised its oversized right arm threateningly once it spotted her, though she didn't need to see their wide eyes to smell the rich tang of terror roiling off their mutated body. It reminded Sonnie of some of the more twisted creatures she'd killed in the pits, human enough to feel fear detached from their Baiter but dumb enough to ignore the warning. So, when the mutant bellowed and rushed across the bridge with a blatantly telegraphed punch ready, she met it with the spine-chilling roar that made Khanivore the stuff of nightmares.
Yet, when her body pumped itself full of a drug cocktail as she bodyslammed the monster, that wasn't the cause of her slasher grin.
Nothing like bloodshed to make her blood sing!
Vi knew she was hallucinating from being knocked around when a nightmare beast landed between her and Deckard and dropped off Powder and Ekko. She only caught a glimpse of the monster before her view was obscured by colourful smoke, but the roar was terrifying enough. Yet, sometime between the beast landing and seeing her sister, Vi had managed to fall on her butt.
"P-Powder?" She stammered. "W-What... how?"
"I'm not a jinx."
That was all Powder said before she ducked out of sight, and Vi felt thin arms loop under her armpits and start pulling. Feeling the same from the other side, the redhead glanced over and saw Ekko's mop of white hair in profile as the boy struggled to drag her while juggling medkits. Feeling like her head was splitting open thanks to the bridge fight and being scared shitless by the fighting in the smoke didn't stop Vi from helping by pushing with her legs. Between the three of them, it wasn't long before a pair of powerful arms effortlessly lifted Vi off her feet and out of the smoke.
So, leaning against Vander for support as the world swam in and out of focus, Vi took one look at Claggor and Mylo's gobsmacked expressions and started laughing. The amusement guttered and died as Powder slammed into her stomach and latched on like a particularly colourful barnacle. Then, instinctively wrapped her sister in a hug, Vi looked at the only person who could answer the one question she had; Ekko.
Alas, Vander beat her to the punch. "What is that thing out there, Ekko?" He requested, somehow keeping his voice level.
Benzo's... former apprentice shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I found Powder crying her eyes out in her room, and the next thing I know, she's dragging me to that boathouse where the bomb exploded."
Vi felt like she'd been punched in the gut as Ekko's words registered, knowing it was her fault that Powder had the breakdown. But, to the redhead's surprise, Powder pulled away to speak despite her red eyes and blocked nose.
"That's Sonnie..." A wet crunch and resulting scream from the smoke cut her off as the group shuddered. "And she's my friend."
Mylo glanced at the multicoloured cloud and the sounds of someone getting torn apart within with no small measure of disbelief. Looking around, the aspiring thief saw he wasn't the only one that couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"That," he gestured to the auditory abattoir going on outside the safe room. "That monster is your friend?"
Powder's hurt expression had Vi raising her gauntlet-clad fists to slug Mylo, but a calming hand from Vander kept them both from doing anything rash.
"Worry about the beast later, Kids," he ordered, sucking in a great heaving breath before turning to Claggor. "Keep widening the hole, Claggor; let's get out of here."
"On it!"
But, as the heavyset teen went about smashing away the loose bricks to create an escape route, a final wet scream from the fading smoke cloud drew everyone's attention. Vi caught a split-second glimpse of Sevika dragging the gaunt figure of Silco away on the far side of the room before a blood-chilling growl forcibly made her look at this Sonnie. The demonic humanoid lizard was covered in her fair share of shattered bone and bleeding rents in her flesh, but the towering monster was clearly the winner in her fight. Deckard's mutated body was suspended off the walkway by the taloned fist impaled through his gut, with his right arm and left leg ending in weeping stumps. The mutant's glowing purple veins throbbed and waxed in time with his faltering heartbeat as his lifeblood flowed like water down the beast's arm as his thrashing legs started slowing down.
Sonnie lifted him level with her bloodstained muzzle. "You put up a good fight, so I'll give you a choice; a clean death or a slow one?"
The question hung in the air loud enough for everyone to hear, but Deckard's response was too low for Vi to understand. Finally, the answer came as Sonnie nodded, grabbed the mutant's neck in her free hand and brutally crushed his neck like a bundle of matchsticks. She tossed the corpse over the railing, turned, and limped towards the tense group watching her.
Before Vi could do anything, Powder had darted out from behind Vander and wrapped her arms around Sonnie's neck. The redhead haltingly raised her fists only to hear the words flowing from her sister's mouth.
"Thank you," repeated ad nauseam with heartfelt relief.
So, of course, Mylo had to open his mouth and ruin the strangely touching moment.
"I take it back, Pow-Pow; you're not a jinx."
Well, I hope y'all enjoy this cause I had a lot of fun writing this snippet.
Sonnie's just a wonderful character to write, and I needed to provide a better outcome to episode three's gut-wrenching misery.
Chapter Two: The Base Violence Necessary For Change.
The Last Drop fell silent as Vander stormed through the doors without pausing, drawing the attention of every patron in the establishment. Shocked exclamations rang out as they noticed his swollen eye and the dark bruises marring his exposed skin, with a few Zaunites knocking chairs over in their haste to help their leader. Zander brushed them aside without a word; his one good eye narrowed as he scanned the watching faces till it landed on a very familiar bald mug.
Before today, the bruiser known as Tof had merely been a known troublemaker with little personal initiative. Now, after Silco's attempt on his life, Vander took one look at the terrified thug and made a bee-line for them. But, unluckily for the bruiser, his arms were seized by nearby patrons the moment he tried to run, leaving the bruiser unable to escape the hand Vander wrapped around his throat.
"You still think I'm weak, Tof?" Vander growled, sparing a nod to the regulars who'd restrained his target. "Silco not pay enough gold to buy your loyalty, eh?"
Tof gasped for air. "Y-You're alive?!"
Vander abruptly headbutted the brute, fury and a whole boatload of anger, letting him power through the pain without groaning as his wounds protested the move.
The surrounding crowd, silent until then, clamoured to be heard and ask questions, but only one was loud enough to be heard by the old revolutionary.
"Vander... What happened to you?"
Vander looked around for the speaker and found Huck peering up with obvious concern through his round spectacles. The timid accountant shied away, likely from the injuries, but it let the barkeep recover some of his calm.
"Silco tried to kill me," Vander stated to the room and killed all conversation dead. "And Tof here was more than happy to help the bastard try and murder my kids."
Those regulars who remembered the old Vander paled at the flat, merciless tone coming from the good-natured bartender. In contrast, others turned furious glares and threatening expressions towards a slowly asphyxiating Tof who was too busy choking to notice the responses. That the brute was still alive surprised the inhabitants of The Last Drop, namely because the man had broken Vander's golden rule.
No harming kids.
"Time for your punishment, you son of a bitch," Vander hissed before releasing his grip on Tof's neck to grab the man by the back of his shirt.
The bar's patrons parted like a crowd from Enforcers as the battered but inviolable former revolutionary dragged Tof across the bar and out the front door, followed by the audience he'd picked up. What seemed like half The Lanes has turned up in the time Vander had been inside, innumerable curious faces of all shapes and ages leaned from alleys, windows and houses as Tof was thrown onto the bare cobbles without mercy. The steel-toed boot driven into the bruiser's stomach had them retching, not that it stopped Vander from addressing his people over their body.
"I know a lot of you thought of me as weak for not fighting the Topsiders at every opportunity," Vander began on a surprising note, encouraging some among the crowd to nod cautiously. "And to that, I say... You're right; I made choices that hurt you all more than they helped." Shocked faces greeted his words, ones the barkeep met with a sad smile. "But I was leading you the last time we Zaunites tried to take what we were owed by force... and the cost was far too high."
He swept an arm across the crowd, barely wincing at the agony even as he made eye contact with the many youthful Zaunites present.
"We lost an entire generation of parents and guardians that day, making orphans of kids who'd never see their mothers and fathers again." Dead silence fell over the square as Vander struggled against choking up. "Those kids are our future! We teach them about our mistakes and how not to relive our failures so that they can have the chances we didn't in the mines. That, more than anything, is why I laid down the laws I did.."
Tof tried to say something, but a swift kick to his ribs produced a series of agonising cracks as the thug curled in on himself. Then, before addressing the crowd, Vander spat a wad of bloody phlegm on the scumbag.
"You've all heard by now how Silco tried to have me killed. What you might not have heard is that my one-time brother wanted my family and I 'disappeared', isn't that right, Tof?" His rhetorical question was accompanied by another kick that drew an agonised scream from Tof. "Attempts on my life I can accept, but not against my kids when their only crime was defending the family."
Agreeing murmurs and nods spread across the fired-up Zaunites as Vander's intended message sank in with help from the crying thug under his boot. While it had been a long time, too long in some's opinion, the old revolutionary's oratory ability hadn't been forgotten by the people under his protection.
Vander smiled down at Tof, the expression utterly devoid of emotion. "So, as Tof here willingly broke the rules every Zaunite lives by, he pays the price."
Then, and only then, the brute realised the danger he was in and tried to escape. But, rather than the expected beating from Vander, the man in question whistled and waited, still displaying that emotionless smile. A bone-shaking thump from behind Vander and the alarm spreading through the crowd as they stared above his head preceded the barkeep raising a closed fist. Then, lifting a solitary eyebrow, he patiently waited for the watching Zaunites to realise he wasn't in the least scared by the bloody apparition looming overhead.
Only when they calmed down did Vander drop his fist. "Do it."
Air whistled before a serrated bone spike attached to a muscular tail embedded itself into Tof's heart. Vander closed his eyes, counted to three, and heard the organic blade withdraw with a wet crunch and the crackle of snapping bone. Finally, opening his eyes, he gestured above his head.
"Sonnie here was kind enough to help me send a message to anyone with ties to Silco or Sevika's gang." Vander carefully avoided glancing at the crowd's members, who guiltily flinched. "You've got until morning to cut ties or get the hell out of Zaun. You might think I'm joking around, but how much are you willing to bet you can escape Sonnie when she goes a-hunting?"
The Beastie in question dropped to all fours, glared at the crowd over Vander's shoulder and released a nigh-subsonic growl alongside a toothy grin. The implied threat worked far better than any words could, more than one onlooker losing bowel control and sprinting away in a dead panic. But, crucially, the vast majority of the Zaunites stayed, eyes bright as they dared to approach Vander and his terrifying companion. Despite the damage he'd taken, the old revolutionary stood with his arms folded and an inner fire that had been absent for a long time.
"Vander!"
While the cry originated from a single throat, it soon propagated across the crowd until the square around The Last Drop reverberated with infectious energy. Vander let slip a tiny genuine grin at seeing the hope in his people's eyes, though his scaly saviour chuffed in annoyance from the volume even if she refrained from saying so out loud. Then, turning on his heel, the barkeep left Tof's eviscerated corpse and the cheering crowd behind and entered the recently-vacated bar. Only after Vander heard Sonnie scrape herself inside did he allow himself a pained grunt as he found himself a seat at the counter.
He accepted the glass of whiskey Babette sent his way with a nod. "How're the kids?"
"Sleeping in a pile in their room," she replied, the Yordle smoothing her dress with one hand before her expression softened. "I never thought I'd see the old Vander again."
Vander scoffed into his drink. "I'd have been happier if he stayed buried, Babette... But Silco's left me no choice."
"Do you want..."
"No," he down the whiskey in one go and shook his head. "Ask me in the morning... please."
The Yordle sighed but said nothing as she walked across the counter to lay a hand on Vander's injured hand. Babette whispered a few words, and the cuts and scrapes slowly faded until they'd vanished without a trace. But, before she could repeat the spell for the other hand, the barkeep stopped her.
"Vi needs it more than I do, Bab," Vander uttered before gently squeezing the Yordle's much smaller hand. "Thank you, but I'll survive."
Babette pursed her lips. "You're a good man, Vander; never forget that."
He merely nodded and watched his old friend hop off the bar counter and leave through the door leading to the kid's bedroom. Then, eyeing the dregs of whiskey in his glass, Vander reached over, retrieved a half-empty bottle of gutter moonshine and poured himself a shot. The quasi-toxic runoff burned like fuck on the way down, but it helped still the tremors in his hands when he turned to watch Sonnie.
The enigmatic lizard-monster-woman studied Vander in turn with her own mysterious gaze, her back against a wall as she picked debris out of her numerous wounds. The old revolutionary couldn't believe she'd emerged from the fight with Silco's monster relatively unscathed, well, so long as mere cuts and damaged bone counted as unhurt. Of course, Vander wasn't unaware of the fact that Sonnie had been interacting with Powder without anyone's knowledge, but the strange woman had saved his family's life.
"Why'd you do it?" He asked suddenly, the words escaping before his mind caught up.
Sonnie paused her debris removal to face him. "You talkin about fighting that shitty monster or the show outside?"
"Both."
"Not much to say, really," the Beastie shrugged. "Powder's done right by me ever since I ended up in Zaun; I owe the kid a ton more than she owes me." Then, growling under her breath, she tore a jagged sliver of metal from her thigh and tossed the shrapnel aside. "As for the show, eh... You needed a message sent, and the jammy bastard who kept me breathing back home would have kicked my ass for leaving you in the lurch. You remind me of him."
Despite the occasion, Vander managed a wry grin. "In a good way, I hope?"
"A hell of a lot more than you'd know," Sonnie's green eyes dimmed. "He had a soft spot for looking after young troublemakers too..."
Vander recognised the signs of unhealed wounds from personal experience and chose not to pursue that line of questioning. But, as he poured himself another shot, curiosity still burned in his breast.
"What's your plans now?"
Sonnie continued cleaning her wounds and tearing off shattered armour, heedless of the lingering question or just choosing not to answer. But, as Vander watched, her quartet of tails merged together before she laid the appendage across her lap. He'd already seen the damage one could do to a human and wasn't keen on seeing what four could manage.
"Head back to the boathouse and grab my stuff before bailing; why?" For all its odd flatness, Sonnie's tone was just a little curious. "No offence, but I can't exactly blend in around here."
Vander laughed, briefly assuming the moonshine was to blame before dismissing it and devolving into mirthful chuckling. Then, the old revolutionary coughed to clear his throat, placing his glass on the counter.
"That's true among Topsiders, but you're in Zaun, Lass," Vander shook his head. "Compared to some of the folks we've got from around the world, you're not that odd."
Somehow, despite the Beastie's literally inhuman body, he got the distinct impression she'd been stunned into silence. Though, to be fair to Sonnie, a jaw hanging open was the same whether you were a human or a yordle. The gentle click of talons rapping against bone armour filled the growing silence, though the woman's eye's narrowed into barely visible slits in the bar's dim lighting.
"You're serious."
"You sound surprised," Vander countered.
Sonnie returned a flat look. "Back home, I spent half my fucking life fighting to be considered a person, yet here I'm not a monster?"
Vander nodded. "Once you clean off the blood and get some clothes, yes." His good mood sobered as unpleasant memories resurfaced. "There's plenty of monsters out there that hide from the world, Lass."
"Ain't that the truth."
Feeling the beginnings of fatigue tugging at his eyes, Vander sighed and returned his bottle of moonshine to the rack. But, before he considered retiring to bed for the night, he offered the Beastie a hand.
"You've done me and mine a great service, Sonnie, and I'm a man who honours his debts. You can stay here as long as you'd like."
The paw that enveloped his hand was surprisingly warm compared to what Vander expected, not that it stopped him from squeezing tight.
"I'm starting to understand the reaction outside now." Sonnie gave his hand one last squeeze and released it, flashing a grin with a few missing teeth. "I'll stick around for a while... if you'll have me?"
Vander dared to clap the Beastie on the shoulder. "We're all family in Zaun, Lass. We look after our own, no matter what shape they come in."
It might have just been his imagination as he turned to leave for some well-needed sleep, but the old revolutionary swore he saw Sonnie's eyes shining with unshed tears. Yet, as he limped down the stairs to the backroom, Vander didn't blame the monstrous woman for hiding her true self behind a terrifying facade.
Nobody that looked like her would have come to Zaun without an entire bunker full of skeletons.
Still, as he threw himself onto his bed, he was grateful she'd saved his family and intended to honour his word.
The woods of the Kiramman estate fell silent before a gunshot rent the air, birds alighting in a squeaking cloud of wings and feathers as the shot's report faded. The shooter eyed the merely winged target with ill-disguised distaste before ejecting the spent brass and loading another round. But, rather than shoot the next painted wooden plate, the already damaged target exploded as the high-calibre bullet destroyed it.
"I suspect you didn't pick me to keep a score, Miss Caitlyn."
Even as she unloaded her rifle, Caitlyn Kiramman whirled, glaring at the speaker. "I need to know what happened to..." She stumbled over her words, expression caught between anger and grief. "I want to know how Grayson died, and don't you dare give me some useless platitude, Jacob."
Sighing, the Kiramman's Guard Commander ran a hand through his close-cropped salt and pepper hair. But, rather than dissuade the family's heir, he merely scanned the surrounding woods before reluctantly nodding.
"The Sherrif died quickly, her attacker hit with overwhelming strength and pulverised most of her organs," Jacob succinctly explained, keeping an eye on Caitlyn's paling face. "The assailant hit fast enough they tore her body apart, though she got off lightly compared to the rest of her people. Blood loss did the ones in unlucky enough to survive the initial attack."
The blue-haired girl gagged but managed to avoid vomiting to her credit. The Commander wisely secured her thankfully unloaded rifle by slinging it over his shoulder to join his weapon.
"Thank... Thank you, Jacob," Caitlyn stammered. "For being honest with me."
"Grayson would have wanted you to know the details, Miss."
"Mother didn't."
Jacob gently looped an arm around the heiress' shoulders and guided her to a nearby bench. While it was slippy from the recent showers and quickly soaked her coat, Caitlyn wasn't in the mood to care, not when Undercity thugs had murdered a woman who'd practically been family. Nevertheless, something must have shown on her face, for the next thing she knew, Jacob squeezed her shoulder.
"You didn't hear this from me, Miss, but the Sheriff's death wasn't a retaliation hit for the Enforcer's raids."
"What?" Blue eyes narrowed as Caitlyn glanced at the older man. "But that's what everyone's saying, that the Undercity's protecting the criminals who stole from Jayce's apartment!"
Yet, rather than agree with her, Jacob shook his head sadly, looking more than a little disappointed. Then, placing a hand in his pocket, the bodyguard began speaking before she could question him about it.
"The Undercity isn't a unified whole, Miss, just like Piltover isn't. Sheriff Grayson understood that better than most of her colleagues, which is why I'm trying to make sure you understand."
Confused, Caitlyn found herself curious. "Understand what?"
The Commander's eyes were hard, but his voice was soft. "A man called Vander has the most considerable sway with the Undercity from The Lanes, which is where Grayson and her people died. A leader like that doesn't retaliate against the Sheriff of Piltover in his own backyard, especially not with that level of butchery."
The teenager frowned. "You're saying that... someone else killed G-Grayson?"
"Then tried to kill Vander and pin the blame on him."
Caitlyn studied Jacob in a new light. "How do you know all this?" But, even as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened in realisation. "Mother would be concerned that anyone bold enough to... to kill the Sheriff would go after more important people. Did she send you to ask around?"
"Good deductive skills, Miss," Jacob praised but shook his head. "But not entirely on target, unlike your shooting. Lady Kiramman isn't above keeping tabs on the Undercity's ebb and flow with coin, though it helps I can do this." Then, the Commander's refined accent shifted to something more guttural and pedestrian without changing his demeanour. "I can blend in a lot better than most, which let me hear things the Enforcers would rather keep secret."
Caitlyn found herself nervously glancing around. "What would the Enforcers want to hide from the Council?"
"That the same thing that killed Grayson and her team also murdered Vander's close friend, Benzo," Jacob's hand tightly gripped the heiress' shoulder. "Rumour is that he's picked up new muscle that took on the Sheriff's killer and tore them limb from limb."
"That's impossible!" The teen exclaimed. "You said that Grayson and her team were butchered, Jacob! How could some brutish Undercity thug do what trained Enforcers couldn't?"
"They were caught by surprise, Miss Caitlyn; most didn't even get the chance to fire their guns," Jacob calmly explained to the angry heiress, though the hand in his pocket stilled. "The killer ran into something scarier than them and paid the price for it."
"But..." Whatever Caitlyn meant to say died as a distant bell rang out.
But, even after hearing the bell that meant her shooting time was up, the troubled teenager turned to her bodyguard questioningly. The Commander merely handed her rifle back and gestured down the path leading back to the hunting lodge. Caitlyn wanted answers, but a second, louder bell, prompted her to nod and sprint down the trail on sure feet, leaving Jacob behind on the bench.
Only when the heiress vanished into the treeline did the guard draw the object he'd been playing with from the confines of his pocket. His gloved fingers played with the needle-like tooth before he rubbed a thumb over the discoloured base and gazed into the distance.
"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your fucking teeth in good shape, Sonnie, even if they do grow back," Jacob muttered as he studied Piltover's silhouette and the smoggy haze coming from the Undercity. "I hope you know what you're doing down there cause the Council's going to want answers..."
"And I'm in no position to protect you this time."
Then, smoothly unfolding his rifle with practised motions, Jacob Hollins unloaded the five-round magazine with quick lever pumps. Five branches fell from the canopy, each blown off at the base with precise shots. The Commander pocketed the spent brass alongside Sonnie's lost tooth and shouldered his gun before heading down the trail after Caitlyn.
Piltover and its politics were even more of a festering shitheap than London, and that was saying something.
Considering Jacob nor Karran are in the animation version, and it's different enough to be its own thing, I've reimagined him as something of a mentor figure for Sonnie back home. The team did use to be called Jacob's Banshees, after all. This AU is really gonna AU, as expected.
The next chapter will be wholesome fluff with Powder and the gang, I promise. I'd have thrown it in here, but it doesn't fit the tone.
