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Sometimes, it seemed impossible to imagine that this was Silco’s life. Everything could have been so different had Silco not found that note in Vander’s scrawly handwriting. Vander was stubborn, he’ll give him that. But here, at The Last Drop, he was surrounded by warmth- and currently, he was holding Powder in his arms. Mylo was arguing with Claggor, Vi was practicing on her punching bag, Ekko had left on an errand for Benzo, and Vander was upstairs, closing up The Last Drop—the place Silco had over the years learned to call home.
Home.
It was a funny sounding word, one that tasted like rust in Silco’s mouth whenever he said it- whether it was walking Powder back from that broken jungle gym or taking Vi back from the scrapyard, he never truly got used to that word in his mouth. Home was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and even when he had, it was simmered with death and destruction, unsafe and cruel in ways that trumped even Noxus’ bloody existence.
But here, at The Last Drop, it was different. It was a different type of home. While Zaun was still a dangerous place, at The Last Drop, in the Lanes, it was quite different. The danger was settled in the background, just simmering below the surface, but enough that Silco could ignore it. That he didn’t have to be on edge every time he heard a shout or a brawl broke out upstairs, and because of that, it allowed him to focus on the things that mattered the most: family.
He woke up to Powder showing him a new invention, and fell asleep with Mylo going on and on about a new fighting technique, while Vander not-so-subtly tried to shut him up. Previously, home was a never-ending battle field, a never-ending conquest to survive the night. But here, with Vander by his side, it was safer. He could relax a little. So, Silco supposes, home really depends on where you are. And, he muses, he can call this home.
The loud knock on the door shatters Silco’s train of thought as the door swings open and Vander’s thundering steps fill the mostly quiet space. He looks worn down from the slew of customers they had today, but he smiles as soon as his eyes saw the scene in front of him: Silco was sitting on the couch, with Powder curled up in his lap. He had several different types of paint decorated over his body, as did Powder, though most of her paint stuck to her hands and fingers. He gives a soft snort, and walks over to them.
“Powder give you a run for it again?” He asked, brushing Powder’s hair behind her ear and gesturing towards Silco’s hair, which has been coated with pink paint. Silco gives a soft laugh, and a half-smile, shifting carefully. Powder stirs, but she just clings on tighter to Silco’s shirt, and goes right back to sleep.
“Yeah, she did,” Silco’s smile widened a little as he looked down at her. “But she’s been out for about an hour, so I think I wore her out.”
“You always do,” Vander said, eyes flickering up to Silco. Silco’s eyes flit over to where Vi had been standing early, punching her bag. The bag was left swaying, and Vi was no longer there. Silco sighs.
“They did another job.”
“A job?” Vander’s eyebrow raised, and his hands slowly curled into fists. “What do you mean by a job?”
“Piltover.”
“Piltover? They went-” Vander’s voice rose, immediately cutting off as Powder stirs. Silco shifts, standing up and slipping Powder down onto the couch, grabbing a nearby stuffed animal and putting it into Powder’s arms. She settles again, and Silco motions Vander towards the staircase. They say nothing as they walk back upstairs, and once they get there, Silco sits on one of the bar stools, and Vander slides behind the counter, pouring Silco a scotch, and himself a whiskey. Under normal circumstances, Vander would have a joke or two to say, and Silco’s unwitting charm would make everything way more interesting than necessary.
This was not normal circumstances.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Silco shakes his head. “I wish I was. I’ve already talked to Vi. The explosion wasn’t their fault, apparently they didn’t know that they were messing with a scientist’s apartment.”
“And how do you know that?”
Silco’s eyes narrow. “Do you really want to know?”
Vander stares at Silco for a minute- then shakes his head. That’s not a casket he wants to reopen today. “How long?”
“Two hours. The enforcers were chasing them for a while.”
“Do they have any of the loot?”
“Someone corned them, Powder tossed it in the lake.”
Vander nods, slowly. “No evidence, okay…” Hee mumbles under his breath, and his eyes gloss over with that look he always gets when he’s thinking. Silco flicks his arm to snap him back to the present.
“I think we could use this to our advantage.”
Vander blinks. “What?”
“To get Zaunite rights? Medical attention? Money? Better infrastructure?”
“We’re not using the kids as-”
“I would never use the kids as leverage.” Slico says flatly. “I’m talking about the botched job. We can say that it could’ve been preventable had Piltover addressed the needs of its second population. Things are getting worse, Vander. We need to capitalize on the moment.”
“Capitalize on the moment? Silco, the kids-”
“Are in danger. They need to lay low and we’ll deal with that, but don’t you see? There’s a huge opportunity here, Van, and if you weren’t so scared-”
“No one’s scared!” Vander’s fist hits the bar, making the scotch in the glass vibrant and sway a little. Silco stares at it and then looks up. Calm, always calm. Vander takes a beat, stares at his whiskey, and takes a breath. When he looks back up, Silco’s staring right at him, unphased and unbothered by the entire display. But Vander can see the slight tremble of the hand Silco’s hiding under his crossed arms.
“You done?” He asked, drawing out the words.
Vander scoffs, and takes a swig of his whiskey. “Yes.” He muttered, crossing his arms.
“I understand that you don’t want to risk the kids’ life, and I don’t want to either.” Silco swirls his scotch around in the glass, staring at it like it had all the answers. He knew better, though. “You know I don’t want to get anyone else hurt.”
Vander winces. “Silco, that’s not what I-”
“Not the time,” Silco cuts Vander off, and downs his scotch. It burns the back of his throat, but he takes a deep breath and stands. “Powder’s going to wonder where I am and knowing Vi, she’ll be up in a bit.”
“Silco-”
“No, Vander,” Silco murmurs, shaking his head. He walks to the door, leading down to where the kids are. “Just think about it, okay? That’s all I ask.” He disappeared down the steps, the door closing behind him with a click. Vander stares at the door for a second, and then pours another glass of whiskey. The door creaks open not a minute later, and for a second Vander thinks the Silco’s returned until he sees red hair. He looks back down at his drink before grabbing a glass and pouring cider, pushing it to the stool in front of him. Vi sits down, wary, sipping the cider, her eyes glued to the bar. She doesn’t say anything.
“Piltover,” He said, quietly, trying to manage his volume. “The one area I told you to stay out of?”
Vi looks up, her eyes narrowed. “The Pilties have everything, they can spare a couple coin-”
“That’s not that point!” Vander snaps. “You’re so busy thinking with these,” he motions to Vi’s gauze-wrapped hands, “That you’re not thinking about this.” He points to a picture hanging in The Last Drop, of all of them. It was taken a couple of months ago to celebrate Powder’s birthday. Silco and Vander are standing in the back, Silco’s half-smile and Vander’s token grin smeared across their faces. Powder’s on Silco’s shoulder, and Vander’s arm in around Vi, Claggor and Mylo are standing in front of them, Claggor ruffling Ekko’s hair, and Benzo’s off to the side, with a soft smirk on his face. The entire picture was in a frame that Powder made with glitter and markers, with drawings and a big bulky ‘Family’ square dead in the middle.
“We can handle a real job,” Vi insists, standing.
“You think you can handle a real job. But those kids in there?” Vander points towards the door, eyes narrowing. “They will follow your every word. Are you ready for that kind of responsibility?”
“Yes!” Vi slams her hand down on the counter. “I got them there safely, and we came back in one piece-”
“But what would have happened if you hadn’t been able to escape the enforcers? What would’ve happened if one of you had gotten caught? You mess with Piltover and it’s a never-ending fight, VI. Are you willing to lose for this fight?”
Vi crosses her arms, staring at the bar counter again.
“Vi, look at me.” He sighs and grabs Vi chin, pulling it up so their eyes meet. “Fighting Piltover ends badly, time after time again. And you’re not ready for the consequences of going against them.”
Vi sighs. “It’s not fair, Vander. It’s not fair that we have to use their scraps while they’re living scotch-free. Topsiders have everything, Vander. I want that type of life for us- for Powder.”
“Well going after Piltover’s not the way to do it.”
“Well then what do you suggest we do? Ask nicely?” Vi scoffs. “I don’t think that’s ever worked.” She disappears down the stairs, leaving Vander alone again. Vander stares at his whiskey. They’ve been down this road before. There’s been death and destruction. Vi and Powder lost their parents. Everyone lost someone down this road. He couldn’t risk it again.
But, later at night, as he sat by Silco outside, taking a smoke, he couldn’t get Vi’s words out of his head. She wasn’t wrong. Silco wasn’t wrong. Piltover had used and abused the undercity for ages. Ages.
And maybe this time could be different.
“Okay.”
Silco blinks, surprised. “Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s have a revolution.”
Silco smiles, one of his rare smiles, and for a few minutes, Vander thinks it’s worth it. They’d already done this before so they could learn from their disasters and do better this time. Avoid the violence.
If only Vander knew what Piltover had in store for those staying at The Last Drop, he would’ve bitterly laughed at how hopeful Silco stared at him as he began to ramble on about the plans he’d been making- the very thorough plans. But no one would have guessed what happened, not even Powder.
One thing’s for certain. One way or another, this revolution? The fire’s already lit.
And Zaun’s not scared to let it all burn down.