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In one blinding flash it was over.
Claggor roused first in the rubble of the warehouse, ribs bruised and cracked where he'd hit the wall. They were tender and moving sent pain through his limbs, but gradually he got to his feet, shuffled to a wall, and leaned heavily on one side.
Remnants of a fire dotted the ruin with quiet smoldering embers protected from harsh rain by slabs of the roof laying on top of each other. He saw his reflection in the filthy puddles at his feet, the blood and soot caked around his face, the singed tips of his sopping wet hair, and disgusting, dirty clothes that had definitely been washed not long ago.
Around him were a handful of bodies. None he recognized, but he couldn't work out what had happened except, maybe, an explosion given that the blast area appeared to be the entire building–or most of it. In the depths of the undercity, under the dark rain, he couldn't even determine how long he'd been out. It could have been hours or it could have been over a day; no matter how long, though, Claggor had people to find.
He squared his shoulders and pushed off the wall with a pained grunt. He moved slowly, shuffling around broken equipment, cracked open crates, and tiny fires, scanning the area as best he could with one crusted over eye. It was clear to him that nobody else here was awake–or even alive–with no trace of Vi, Mylo, or Vander.
He didn't want to think that he was truly alone.
Claggor coughed a handful of times. Irritated skin on the side of his head cracked and bled. A steady drip of rain off a jutted out beam plopped gently onto his head.
He couldn't get much farther as his knee started to give out. As quickly as he could he located the closest place to sit. He noted the broken catwalk a few feet away, destroyed in the middle and making a nice slope to the ground floor below. If it wasn't raining, it would be a good way to get out of this place, but now served only as a dangerous slide that would absolutely hurt him in his state.
For a brief moment he closed his eyes. When he inhaled, he felt a breeze of fresh air mingling in the heat of the destruction that cleared his lungs. He sat for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, letting the time pass until suddenly he heard a moan down the hall.
Claggor scowled, eyes snapping in that direction. He couldn't fight in this state nor could he run, but it sounded somewhat familiar, so he took the risk, pulled himself back up, and moved in that direction. His ribs screamed for him to stop, his knee almost gave out, but the closer he got to the moan the more he realized that it was Mylo, who laid curled up on his side. Pebbles and dust surrounded his brother, leaving him covered with a fine layer of dirt that he inhaled with each breath.
He moaned again. Claggor scooted closer, dropping down on one knee, hand on Mylo's shoulder. He shook off as much rubble as he could.
"Can you stand?" Claggor asked, his voice raspy and quiet.
Mylo tried to speak, but coughed instead, whole body trembling. It sounded rough, like he'd inhaled enough smoke to take out an army, and all he managed to do was shake his head.
Claggor looked him up and down, searching for any obvious injuries. His gaze stopped on his head, caked in blood and grime, his eyes shut and bruised. The bruising went up around his forehead and to be quite honest Claggor didn't know how he survived whatever collided with him except for maybe his thick skull.
"I guess you don't know where anyone is?"
He shook his head again.
"Vander and Vi were right here," Claggor muttered. "Come on Mylo we're getting out of here."
With a groan that turned into a long drone, Mylo let himself get picked up. Claggor expected a fight out of him, but he couldn't keep himself standing and went limp in his arms.
The bar was so far away from here. What remaining energy he had got sapped away at the mere thought of walking that distance alone let alone carrying Mylo.
He didn't have a choice though.
Claggor leaned against walls as he moved toward a staircase in a back room, then spent a good amount of time hobbling down in a stiff, structured way that wouldn't make him trip or jostle Mylo. One dirty, sooty stained step at a time he went, until he saw the bottom of the stairwell.
For ten minutes he left Mylo sitting against a wall and he sat beside him. Trails of some kind of chemical seeped out under the walls, pooling in the cracks of the concrete foundation. Claggor couldn't be assed to worry about it, stretching his legs out and leaning his head against the wall.
He breathed out with relief to be sitting down.
Mylo made no sound except that of quiet breathing. He kept an eye on the smaller boy because if he didn't nobody else was going to.
He heard not a sound nor peep that could indicate the rest of his family nearby. The facility must have gotten cleared out ages ago, the rest dead or left for dead. Another normal day in Zaun.
Maybe his family was at the bar. A good meeting place, the best–but even if she thought they were dead, Vi wouldn't have abandoned them there. Vander wouldn't have either.
An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.
"How are you feeling Mylo?"
"Like shit," he rasped. "I can't see. I can't see!!"
He reached up to grab at the scabs on his face but Claggor slapped his hand away. "Don't screw around."
"What part of I can't see don't you understand!"
"Well don't make it worse!"
Mylo threw his hands into his lap.
-----
The bar lit up the street with neon signs, patrons entering and exiting as if nothing had happened at all. Claggor bit the inside of his cheek as he got closer, ducking down near a fixture and peering into the window; he recognized nobody, and the man at the bar wasn't Vander.
Multiple people hung around with bandages or splints, fresh scars covering their faces and limbs. Some looked like they were about to fight Though the furniture was relatively the same, it was flung around to make room for more people to sit on the floor.
He cursed quietly. Silco came up the steps from their bedroom with papers in hand, waving them around at some guy who sat in the corner and took them to the face. He could have sworn he saw a flash of blue down in the stairwell, though it could have been light reflections on the window.
Claggor glanced at Mylo then back to the bar. Silco walked closer and closer, and before he could see the two, Claggor ducked into the alley behind it.
"When'll we be home?" Mylo muttered over the splashes of Claggor plodding through puddles.
"Eventually. Shut up so no one hears us."
Nobody was in the alley. Yelling and shouting from the back door had Claggor staring at the ground as he darted by to ignore the urge to walk inside. His whole body screamed in pain still, but he knew of only one other place they could go to where they wouldn't be bothered and set off for the old arcade.
When he got to the arcade, he set Mylo down and this time he was able to hold himself up against the wall. He swayed, woozy.
"Don't move, Mylo. I'm checking inside first."
"Yeah like I'm gonna move."
"Just stay there."
Mylo made a face at him as he went inside. It was just how they left it after the enforcers had come, which was to say: a giant mess. They would be sheltered, at least, until they were able to figure out what sat at the tip of their tongues, a question neither of them could ask:
What the hell happened?
Last thing Claggor remembered was finding Vander. Mylo was picking the locks binding him to a chair. If he thought real hard, he could remember Vi going out to fight and himself hitting a wall, but anything after that was a blur. Less than that, even. A few brief flashes of the fight. And whatever happened to Mylo was worse than what happened to him, injuries Claggor had no idea how to deal with.
He was a fighter, not some doctor.
He found a table and chairs to sit at and set it up. If Mylo needed to lay down he'd find a spot in the corner somewhere. For now though Mylo was brought inside and sat down; he immediately slumped over, his hands covering his bruised eyes.
Moments passed in silence.
Mylo picked at the scabs around his face. He muttered to himself, fingers smeared with blood. Claggor got up to wander around the arcade, searching for any bottle water or towels or anything really.
Luckily, the power still worked. It had been faulty last time they'd been here but now they didn't need nor want the games working. They could see now at least, and some of the ceiling fans circulated the dense, stale undercity air. In one corner was a pile of dirty rags. After a quick trip outside he had a few jugs of water to clean them and quickly handed them off to Mylo.
"We don't have any bandages. You'll just have to use that."
Mylo pressed it against his eyes with a hiss. "Whatever. It works."
More silence.
It didn't bother Claggor, but Mylo bounced his leg as he continued to wipe off his face. The bruises were tender and he winced with every touch.
"Clag, what if Vander and Vi didn't make it?"
"Don't ask that!"
"I'm just saying!" Mylo's voice trembled. "They didn't come back for us."
"They're not dead!"
"Then why were we left behind?"
"Maybe they're injured or something. I don't know!"
"Claggor-"
He slammed a fist on the table and stood up. Mylo flinched. "Stop saying that! We'll go out tomorrow and look for them. Find something to eat too."
Mylo's shoulders slumped. "Alright, alright! Don't bite my head off."
Exhaling, Claggor sat back down. He massaged his thigh where it throbbed with soreness.
"Can you see?"
"No and it's really freaking me out, bud."
"Just keep it covered and clean."
"You of all people don't know shit about stuff like this."
"Shut up. It's what Vi would say."