Arcane: I have Plasmids F*** YEAAAAAAH!!!

The air inside Benzo's shop felt heavier than usual.

It smelled of oil, ink, and aged wood, the same as it always did. The same as it had since she was a kid.

But tonight?

Tonight, it felt different.

Vi stood near the counter, her fingers curling against the edge, restless. She could hear her own breathing, too slow, too steady—controlled, because if she let it slip, if she let herself shake, it was over.

She had made up her mind.

She had sent the message.

And now all she could do was wait.

The sheriff would come soon.

She just needed someone to take the fall.

And if someone had to pay the price for what they did, Vi was going to make damn sure it was her.

Not Powder.

Not Milo or Claggor.

Not Vander.

Not Lukas.

Just her.

She exhaled through her nose, grounding herself.

Then—

The door opened.

Vi's head snapped up—expecting Greyson.

But it wasn't the sheriff.

It was Vander.

And behind him?

Benzo.

The moment her eyes met Vander's, she knew.

He knew.

---

The second he stepped inside, the weight in his eyes crushed her.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

Something worse.

Something heavier.

Something that told her—

She had already lost.

Vander didn't say anything at first.

Didn't yell.

Didn't scold.

He just looked at her.

Took a long, slow breath.

Then—

"I know what you're planning."

His voice was rough. Like it scraped against stone just to come out.

Vi stiffened, jaw clenching.

She couldn't back down.

"Vander, I—"

But he didn't let her finish.

"You think I'd let them take you?" His tone wasn't a question.

Her throat tightened.

"It's the only way," she forced out.

His jaw ticked.

She had seen Vander mad before.

She had seen him fight.

She had seen him angry.

But this?

This wasn't anger.

This was the weight of a lifetime of loss.

---

Benzo sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Vander, we still have time. Maybe we can—"

Vander shook his head.

"No."

His voice was firm.

Final.

"I'm done lowering my head."

His hand found Vi's shoulder.

She expected him to grip tight. To hold her back.

But he didn't.

His fingers pressed—not in restraint, but in something else.

Something aching.

"Vi."

She swallowed.

"This ends tonight," he said.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"Vander, please—"

He pushed her back.

Her back hit the counter.

Before she could react—his arms wrapped around her.

Not to hurt.

Not to hold her down.

But to keep her safe.

His voice was a whisper.

"You don't get to make this choice."

Then—

He shoved her toward the backroom.

She stumbled, tripping over the threshold, eyes widening—

"Wait—Vander, don't—"

The door slammed shut.

Locked.

Trapping her inside.

---

On the other side of the door—

Vander turned to Benzo.

He exhaled.

"This was the only way."

Benzo's expression was grim.

"You really think they will back down?"

Vander didn't answer.

Because they both knew the truth.

The sheriff was a good woman. A decent woman.

But even decent people had limits.

And Piltover wanted their pound of flesh.

---

The air in Benzo's shop was thick with tension.

Vander stood near the counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Vi stood beside him, fists clenched. Benzo was behind the counter, quiet. Watching.

Across from them—Sheriff Greyson.

She looked tired.

Not the exhaustion of a long night, but something deeper. The weight of years pressing down on her shoulders.

She exhaled through her nose.

"Vander."

Vander didn't respond.

"I know why you're here," she continued. "I know what you're planning to do."

"I can't let you go through with it, the undercity will erupt into chaos If I take you in."

Vander didn't move.

His voice was calm. Steady.

"You're not takin' anybody today."

Greyson's jaw tightened.

"Vander—"

"No."

The word was final.

Greyson inhaled slowly.

She knew this wasn't going to be easy.

She squared her shoulders.

"I don't want this to end in blood."

Vander's fingers tapped against his arm.

"Neither do I."

A pause.

Then—

"Then let's find another way."

Benzo shifted slightly.

"There is no other way."

Greyson turned toward him.

"You think this is helping your people?"

Her voice was tight.

"You think making Piltover your enemy is going to make things better?"

Benzo's mouth curled into a bitter smile.

"They already were our enemy."

Greyson's eyes darkened.

But before she could say anything.

There was a commotion outside.

---

---

---

The Enforcers were dead.

Sheriff greyson tried to put up a fight, but she was no match for that abomination.

She laid there, in a pool of her own blood.

Forever bound to the earth.

To never see the light of day again.

Benzo stepped forward.

His breath was ragged.

His hands were shaking.

Not with fear.

With rage.

"Benzo, step back!"

Vander's voice was sharp—urgent.

A warning.

But Benzo didn't listen.

His fists were clenched. His teeth bared.

And his fury?

Blazing.

"Silco, you fucking animal!"

His voice thundered across the alley.

"I'm going to Ki—"

He never got to finish.

Because the punch landed before the words could.

It was instant.

Sickening.

Final.

Deckard's fist went straight through him—through his ribs, his spine.

A grotesque, wet crunch ripped through the air.

And then—

Blood.

A spray of red splattered against the walls.

Benzo's body twitched.

For half a second, it tried to hold on.

To resist.

But then—

His legs gave out.

And he collapsed.

Silence.

And then—

A slow exhale.

Silco barely glanced at the ruined mess on the ground.

"Always so stubborn."

His voice was quiet.

"You never knew when to stop."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Look where that got you."

---

Vander roared.

A sound of pure, unfiltered fury.

He charged.

Fists raised.

Ready to kill.

Silco. That Monster. All of them.

He'd tear them apart with his bare hands.

But Deckard—

Deckard was faster.

Stronger.

The Shimmer coursing through his veins made sure of that.

The fight was short.

Brutal.

One moment, Vander was standing—

The next?

A fist the size of his head connected with his ribs.

A sickening crack.

Vander staggered.

Another punch—this one to his gut.

Vander gasped—choking on air.

His knees hit the ground.

His hands braced against the cobblestone.

Another hit—

To his back.

Vander collapsed.

His breath ragged.

His body motionless.

Silco stepped forward.

He crouched down—slowly—like he had all the time in the world.

And he whispered:

"You were always too sentimental, old friend."

Then—

He stood.

Waved a hand.

"Take him."

And just like that—

Vander was gone.

---

Vi watched from the window.

She watched it all.

Benzo.

The sheriff.

Vander.

Her breath hitched

Her nails dug into the wooden frame

Tears running down her face.

"It's all my fault."

---

The basement of The Last Drop was a mess.

Milo and Claggor rummaged through whatever they could find—improvised weapons, pipes, a rusted bat.

Claggor grabbed the bat first, gripping it with both hands.

Milo scoffed. "Oi, I saw that first."

"Too bad," Claggor said flatly.

"Give it!"

"No fucking way."

Milo scowled. "I will kick your ass bro."

"no you won't."

Before the argument could escalate, a loud thud echoed from the stairwell.

The door slammed open.

Vi burst in, panting.

Sweat clung to her brow.

Her hands were shaking.

Her face—God.

She looked wrecked.

Like she had seen a ghost.

No.

Something worse.

A nightmare made real.

---

Powder sat curled up on her bed, gripping her knees to her chest.

She had felt it all day—that feeling.

That horrible, twisting thing in her gut.

Like something was wrong.

Something bad had happened.

And when she saw Vi's face—

When Vi locked eyes with her—

She knew.

She knew before a single word left her sister's lips.

---

Vi's breath was ragged.

She looked at the table—at the scattered weapons.

A bat.

A rusted pipe.

And Vander's gauntlets.

Her fingers twitched.

She reached forward.

Milo's voice cut through the thick silence.

"Oi—what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Vi stilled.

"Those are Vander's."

A beat.

Then—

"They took him."

The words came out shaky.

Like they hurt to say.

The room froze.

Powder sat up sharply.

Claggor straightened.

Milo's mouth fell open slightly.

"W-What?"

Vi clenched her fists.

"They took him."

She looked up.

And this time—

There was no hesitation in her voice.

"They took Vander."

And just like that—

The world fell apart.

---

Milo was the first to speak.

"…The fuck do you mean, they took him?"

His voice wasn't angry.

Not yet.

Because he didn't get it.

Didn't understand what Vi had just said.

She swallowed.

Hard.

And she forced the words out.

"They took Vander."

She clenched her fists.

"They—"

A sharp breath.

"They killed Benzo."

---

The reaction was instant.

Claggor's grip on the bat tightened.

Milo's breath hitched.

Powder's head snapped up.

Everything shifted.

The air turned heavy.

"Ekko followed them," she said.

Her voice was tight.

"They're taking him to an old factory near the docks."

Claggor was already reaching for more weapons.

"We have to go."

Milo's head snapped toward her.

"Vi—"

"We have to go!" she snapped.

Her voice was raw.

Desperate.

Like she was barely keeping herself together.

Like if she stopped talking—

If she stopped moving—

She'd break.

"I'm coming too."

The words were soft.

Quiet.

But they hit like a gunshot.

Vi froze.

Milo's eyes widened.

Claggor looked between them, tense.

Powder stepped forward.

Vi turned.

She crouched slightly, looking Powder in the eyes.

"I need your help Pow," she agreed.

Powder blinked.

Vi's grip landed on her shoulders.

"I need you to do something for me."

Powder hesitated.

Vi's fingers tightened.

"You need to go get Lukas."

Powder's mouth parted slightly.

"Lukas?"

Vi nodded.

Her face was serious.

"Go to his factory."

"Tell him they got Vander. Tell him to meet us at the old factory near the docks."

A pause.

"And after that—"

Vi's voice wavered.

"You stay with Ekko."

Powder's face fell.

"What?"

"You stay with Ekko," Vi repeated.

Powder shook her head.

"No—No, I—"

"Powder."

Vi's voice hardened.

Powder flinched.

Vi exhaled.

Her hands curled slightly.

She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

"You're gonna do this for me," Vi murmured.

Her voice pleaded.

A pause.

"Right?"

---

Powder's throat tightened.

She hesitated.

Her hands shook.

But then—

She nodded.

Vi forced a smile.

"Good."

And just like that—

Powder ran.

Straight to Fontaine Futuristics.

Straight to Lukas.

Straight to the worst thing she would ever see.

---

Powder ran.

Her lungs burned.

Her legs screamed.

But she didn't stop.

She couldn't.

The streets of the Lanes blurred past her, dark and winding.

She barely noticed the people she passed.

Didn't care about the looks.

Didn't stop to breathe.

Just ran.

Ran to Lukas.

Ran for help.

Ran to fix this.

And then—

She reached the factory.

And everything stopped.

---

Powder skidded to a halt.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She stared.

And she froze.

Because Fontaine Futuristics—

Lukas's factory—

It was ruined.

The doors were wide open.

The floor was wrecked.

The walls were cracked.

Blood smeared the ground.

She stepped inside.

Slowly.

Like if she moved too fast, the whole world would shatter.

The machines were broken.

Chairs knocked over.

Tables smashed.

Signs of a fight were everywhere.

But there was no sign of Lukas.

"…No."

The word was small.

Choked.

Her hands shook.

She stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the wreckage.

"Lukas?"

Her voice cracked.

She pushed past fallen shelves.

Past shattered glass.

"Lukas?!?"

Nothing.

No answer.

No one here.

Just her.

Just ruin.

And then—

She saw it.

---

His office.

The door hung open.

Powder rushed inside.

She didn't think.

Didn't stop.

Didn't breathe.

And then—

She froze.

Because his office—

It was worse.

---

It was trashed.

Papers scattered.

Walls smashed.

The desk was broken.

His chair was overturned.

Powder's breath hitched.

Her stomach twisted.

This wasn't happening.

No.

No.

NO.

Her vision blurred.

Tears burned at her eyes.

She clenched her fists.

Shook her head.

"He's fine," she whispered.

"He's fine. He's fine. He's fine."

But it sounded like a lie.

And then—

She saw it.

A drawer.

Slightly open.

Something glowing.

A soft, blue light.

Her breath stilled.

She moved.

And then—

Her fingers wrapped around the Hextech gems.

And something snapped.

Lukas wasn't here.

She couldn't find him.

She didn't know what happened.

Didn't know if he was dead.

Didn't know if she'd ever see him again.

But she knew one thing.

She wouldn't let this happen again.

She clenched the gems tight.

And then—

She ran.

Not back to Ekko.

Not to safety.

But to the docks.

To Vi.

To Vander.

To save them all.