Chapter Text
My father and Vander were close once upon a time. Not as tight as he’d once been with Silco, but damn-near close to it. During the rebellion, I watched my father die. It wasn’t gruesome or anything– I didn’t see the bullet hit, I didn’t watch him collapse, I didn’t have to see the crimson puddle beneath him slowly grow. I did hear Vander yell his name though. I heard the gunshot. I heard the cry he let out. I heard his wheezing, wet breath, and I ran. Dad held me, kept me cradled firmly against his chest as my shirt was soaked through with his blood, my palms slick and sticky with the red warmth.
I’d lifted my head for only a moment to scrub the tears and snot from my face when I felt his death-grip on me loosen. I looked down at him with wide eyes and watched as his lashes fluttered. I felt his chest shudder with his inhale and sink deeper than before as he exhaled the words ‘be good.’ Back then, I didn’t know how to describe it. I was barely ten. Now? His eyes were dull, the only shimmer being the orange flicker from the flames on the bridge. His skin was grey and his lips had gone blue minutes ago.
Vander had found me curled up on top of Dad’s body, two kids already clinging to his pant legs. I don’t remember much after that, but Vander says that I kicked and screamed as he pried me away from the body, then I cried myself asleep in his arms as he hauled me away.
“Are you kidding me, Vi?” I hiss when she walks into the little hideaway on the lower level of the Last Drop. I see her wince, but that’s all the remorse she has. “She could’ve gotten hurt– Hell, you all could have.”
I walk up to Powder, hooking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against my side. She hugged around my waist in turn.
“I tried to tell her not to bring the kid,” Mylo says, trying to save his hide. “She’s stubborn and doesn’t listen to anybody.”
“We wouldn’t have gotten into that fight if you’d have kept your mouth shut,” I hear Vi snap back. “Your flappy jaw cost us that haul.”
“Powder threw it into the lake!”
“She was cornered!”
They continue to bicker over who’s at fault but I ignore them in favor of bringing Powder over to the couch. “You good?” I ask, taking her chin in my hand and twisting her head this way and that to check her over.
She swats at my hand, her little face scrunched up. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”
“I don’t believe that,” I tell her, smiling as I continue to wiggle her head about. She grunts and smacks me until I release her.
A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that Mylo lost the argument, his arms crossed defensively over his chest as Vi closes in on the armchair next to me. I offer her a small smile before moving toward a shelf, grabbing the first aid kit that I’d assembled with scraps from the edge of Piltover.
“You look like Hell,” I tell her, kneeling in front of her as she parts her legs for me to fit between. She gives a noncommittal grunt and I laugh, taking one of her hands in mine before placing it on her knee. “Keep it there.”
“I’m fine,” she tries to argue.
“Don’t get fussy,” I huff. “It’s just a little peroxide.”
I pick at the edge of the cloth she has wrapped around her knuckles until I’m able to unravel it completely. I set it aside in a neat pile before moving into her other hand to do the same. Poor things need a wash. I grab a cotton pad and wet it with the peroxide. Alcohol would be preferable, but the Topsiders apparently keep that shit locked away and nothing upstairs has a high enough proof for me to even consider using it as an antiseptic. I dab it against her knuckles, wiping the dried blood from her skin and rolling my eyes at the childish wince she makes.
“Wuss,” Mylo pouts from the corner.
“Shut up or you’re next,” I threaten, brandishing the little brown bottle like it’s a weapon.
Just as I’d moved to clean up the cut on the girl's cheek, the wooden door creaked open. I glance back to see Vander standing in the threshold, watching us all, and he doesn’t look pleased. Deciding to spare myself, I offer Vi a sheepish grin before setting the kit on the coffee table. I slip out from between her legs and scurry off past Vander through the door, hearing the other three follow my lead. Sorry, Vi. This is on you.
A few days later found Vi and I on the roof of the Last Drop, legs dangled over the edge and ankles knocking together as we kicked them back and forth.
“Where’d you get these?” I ask, swirling the sugar stick through the sour powder in the colorful package.
“Topside.” She grinned. “The schmuck we tried to rob the other day had a whole box of ‘em. All kinds of flavors too. Managed to snag a few of them, shoved ‘em in my pocket before the boys saw.”
“It’s good,” I say, popping the powder-covered stick into my mouth.
“Yeah?” She asks, and there’s a weird note in her voice that makes my brows furrow, but I don’t say anything. “I’m glad,” she finally says, looking off toward the jagged horizon of rooftops. “Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about sour cherry. ”
I hum around my candy. “Not bad,” I slur, words a tad muffled. I pull it out and smack my lips before tipping the pack back and working it around with my tongue until it dissolves and I can swallow. I pull a face at the sourness, but quickly readjust. “Is my tongue red?” I ask, laughing as I stick my tongue out at her.
She laughs too and nods, sticking her own tongue out. “Blue?” And the word is garbled with the way she had her mouth open and it sends me into a peel of giggles.
“Why is it so bright?” I nearly wheeze, wishing I had a mirror to show her.
Now we’re both laughing, leaning into each other and smacking each other's arms in an attempt to calm down. But the tips of my fingers whack the tip of her nose and her shocked expression only makes it worse. I laugh so hard that I snort on my next inhale, which triggers Vi’s own wheezing laughter in turn, and the cycle seems endless. It gets to the point that someone yells shut the fuck up out of their window, making us pause for a moment before collapsing backward onto the roof and clapping our hands over our mouths to stifle the fit.
Eventually, we settle, chests heaving and cheeks flushed with exertion. I turn my head to her and she rolls onto her side, propping herself up with her elbow.
“Wanna see if we can make purple?” She asks, breathless. Whether that’s from our laughing or from the question itself, I’m not sure.
My eyes are wide for a moment but, when I recover from the mild shock, I huff a breath through my nose and roll my eyes. “Shut up,” I tell her, reaching out to palm her face and shove her away.
She’s been doing that a lot recently– flirting. It’s been weeks of consistent, non-stop ‘ you look pretty today,’ and ‘ woah… new pants? Highlights your assets,’ and ‘that little scrunch you do when you’re concentrating is cute’ before reaching out to smooth the pad of her thumb between my eyebrows and down the bridge of my nose, forcing me to relax my expression. ‘You’ll get wrinkles,’ she’d say, smiling.
She touches me so easily, too. Squeezing my shoulders, brushing her fingertips against mine in passing, putting her hand on my hip when she walks around me. They’re such small, meaningless things… but she does them with purpose and it always seems to throw me off-kilter. Is it actually flirting, or is it just Vi?
“Oh, c’mon,” she whines, taking my wrist and pushing my hand from her face. “Not a laugh, not a ‘maybe later,’ not even a smile?” She’s pouting now. “Just ‘shut up’ and shoving me away?”
I try to push at her again, thoroughly unimpressed. “Now you’re throwing a fit because that cheesy pick-up line didn’t work?”
“I thought what we had was real,” she whines, placing her hand over her chest to fake heartbreak.
“About as real as the giant rat in the sewers.”
“You wound me, Sugar.” She rolls onto her back with a huff.
The next day, I’m downstairs with Powder. She’s playing with one of her little gadgets, still sulking over how her last bomb hadn’t worked.
“Have you ever tried to use something… thinner?” I ask, plucking one of the smaller ones off of her bed frame. “Or maybe using more explosive power?” I grin.
“Thinner?” She asks, her attention flitting from the hunk of metal in her hands to me. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I start, tossing the dud into the air and catching it. “These things are pretty light, but the metal seems real thick. Maybe a combo of thinner sheets of metal and more of the explosive could make it work.”
Her eyebrows furrowed into a small pout as she looked back at the little toy in her hands.
“Just because they haven’t worked yet doesn’t mean they never will,” I remind her gently. “You’re still young, you have time.”
She sighs, shoulders slumping. Poor girl looks like she has the weight of the world on those shoulders. She leans into my side and I wrap my arm around her.
“But I want it to work now,” she mumbles, clearly upset.
“I know you do but, if you keep pressuring yourself like this, you’ll burn out.” I squeeze her a bit tighter. “You’re smart, Pow. You’ll figure it out.”
When Vi slams the door open, I startle. I’m sat in the armchair with a textbook in my lap– I’d managed to snag it from an Academy student when she wasn’t looking. Hell, I even managed to swipe her lunch. Victory tasted delicious that day– and so did that turkey sub.
I watch as Vi goes about stuffing things into her bag, Mylo and Claggor grabbing their own things. My nose wrinkles at the sight and my gaze flickers to Powder. She’s already trying to grab her new gadgets– the ones we haven’t tested yet.
“What’s going on?” I ask dumbly, slowly closing my textbook.
“Some bastard took Vander,” Vi grits out, tying the drawstring on her bag.
“What?” I stand, stomping over to where Vi is trying to hurry up the steps. “Wait, what ? Where are you going? Hey!” I catch her sleeve.
“We don’t have time for this right now,” she snaps at me. “We’re going to rescue Vander. You and Powder are staying here. Just… stay put until we get back.”
“I can help!” Powder says, bounding up to us. “I have new ones that they helped me with. They’ll work this time, I swear it!”
I watch as Vi’s face screws up, clearly not pleased. Mylo mutters something in the background but quickly falls quiet when I shoot him a look.
“No, Powder, you’re staying here with Patch,” Vi says, brushing her hand through the girl's hair. “We’ll be back soon. Please just stay put. Please .”
Powder looks like she’s about to argue, so I place a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon,” I tell her. “They’ve got this under control.” I guide the girl back to her bed and sit her down. Then, I shoot a sharp look at Vi over my shoulder. “You have three hours before I come to find you.”
She nods and they leave. I stare at the door for a long moment before turning to Powder.
“Here,” I say, gently sitting next to her and pulling her against my side. “Let’s read for a little, take your mind off of things.” And so, the two of us huddled up together on Powder’s bed, a book in my hand as I read aloud to the girl.
In hindsight, reading while already feeling sleepy probably wasn’t the best idea. That only proved to be further true when I squeezed my arms around Powder, half asleep, only to realize the girl was much more plush than I remember.
“Pow?” I murmur, forcing my eyes to blink open.
She’s gone, because of course she is, and she’s replaced herself with a pillow, because of course she has.
“Powder?” I sit up, sobering from sleep quickly. “Damn it, Kid, where are you?”
Her shoes are gone and so is her bag, those dumb little gadgets I’d helped her make gone as well. I hiss out a curse and force my shoes on before running out of the Last Drop like a madman.
Hours pass looking for them. My lungs burn, my feet ache, my knees are trembling. I pause outside of Benzo’s shop, only for my already ragged breathing to catch in my throat.
“Oh my God’s,” I whisper, hand coming up to cover my mouth and stifle a yell.
The sight of Benzo’s body was already enough to gag me but, the moment my gaze reconciles the woman as an enforcer, I choke. Their bodies are bent at odd angles, arms twisted and bloodied faces buried in the dirt.
“Fuck,” I wheeze, taking a trembling step closer. “They really are…” My attention flits to the door of Benzo’s shop, taking in the splintered wood and broken handle.
Little Man. My eyes go wide and I run into the shop, head whipping wildly.
“Little Man!” I call out, poking my head into the basement. “God damn it– Ekko!” I step back out onto the street, still shouting.
Just as I’m about to give up, a warm body smashes into the backs of my legs and nearly topples me over. I swing around to see a head of blond hair and I sigh, kneeling down to cradle the boy to my chest.
“You scared me, Kid,” I murmur, burrowing my nose into his hair. “Do you know what happened? Where are the kids?”
Ekko only burrows deeper into my chest to shield his gaze from the bodies. I let him, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other slowly rubbing up and down his back. I shush him gently, slowly rising to my feet and pulling him up into my arms.
“Whuff,” I huff. “You’re gettin’ heavy, Kid.” He whacks his fist against my shoulder in retaliation. I laugh. “Let’s get back to the Last Drop. We can talk there.” He nods into the crook of my neck.
By the time I’ve gotten Ekko to calm down, the poor guy has worked himself exhausted. I get the information I need, though, and leave him to sleep it off on the couch.
Arriving at the factory, I already feel dread building in my gut. The area is orange and reeks of blood, bathed in flames with odd, purple liquid spilling out onto the streets. I can taste the ashes on the back of my tongue. It settles right next to the bile and I have to dip into an alley to spew my guts away from the heat of the fire swallowing up everything that it touches.
I wipe my mouth with the cuff of my sleeve, still coughing against the smoke assaulting my lungs as I press my back against a concrete wall and sink down.
They’re gone, I realize, and it’s gut wrenching. In between the tears and the screaming, I notice a strip of cloth on the ground a few feet away. I crawl closer to it and pinch it between two fingers, laying it across my lap. It’s Vi’s. I can tell that much considering her name is written crudely along one of the edges. She has always been a bit egotistical, I think.
I stuff the wrap into my pocket and force myself to stand. I trudge back to the Last Drop with my heart in my throat, lungs burning from the smoke and ash, my knees trembling, and my head throbbing. Everyone else might be gone, but Little Man is still here, and I need to take care of him.