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Coming down here again may have been a mistake. He flicked his wrist, the lighter lid opening and closing, the loud click echoing out. Everything around him glowed, the mushrooms reacting to the sound, their blue light guiding him forwards after so long.
But for Silco, the past wasn’t something to be forgotten. It was to be embraced, made part of yourself, until you can overcome it.
Vander.
A pain wells up deep inside of him. Does he think that Felicia’s death had no effect on him? Seeing your friend die then your brother betray you, try to kill you. It would break lesser men.
But where others would break, he found a new drive. Survival. After losing everything, he was more determined than ever to make his dream a reality.
That’s why he goes to those waters.
He bathes himself in the same place where the man he trusted most nearly killed him. At the edge of life, he didn’t find peace or comfort. He found himself changed in a way no one, not even himself, could truly understand.
However, on this day, the thoughts were particularly persistent. He still felt that rush, a phantom feeling of hands around his neck. He stood still, but he could feel himself kicking and screaming. Flailing with all his strength.
He rubbed his forehead again, his fingers touching his slightly damp hair.
That’s why he’s here. Where it all began.
Memories flashed back to him, laughter, joy, late night talks. Counting pennies and planning budgets. The presence of friends that once brought him comfort.
He could feel his heart ache. Faces and names strengthen his resolve as the sorrow builds in him.
Maybe coming down here would help him see things from a new perspective. Did he focus so much on Vander and Zaun that he forgot himself?
Or was he just feeling sentimental? Zaun is the priority. He cannot rest until his home is equal to Piltover.
He was getting close now. The air was thicker, nothing his lungs couldn’t handle. The smell of dust lingered in the air, the old wooden supports bringing back memories, both good and bad.
Silco stopped for a second. The door is there. Right there. He felt hesitant, this place, he actually came back. He was meant to leave this place behind, move on to greater things.
Despite that, maybe this is what he needed. Looking back could get him a clear view forward. Make his rise even more grand, when it’s time for him to take control.
He pushed open the door, and the creaking sound grated on his ears. It was a small room for two people to live in, especially one as big as Vander. The sound spores briefly illuminated his surroundings. Broken pieces of wood littered the floor, knocked over barrels and boxes. All sorts of bits and bobs scattered around.
He could see the table. At that moment, his first ideas came back to him. A smile graced Silco’s face. It all started so naively. The chairs, he could make out where they snapped, the legs weren’t even anymore. The light lasted long enough for him to catch the matches. He carefully paced towards the unlit lantern. He could vaguely remember using these matches years ago.
The gentle fire let him see, basking the room in a familiar glow. Every injury, every death, every tough time played in his head, he reminds himself. But there’s something odd. He’s longing for something he had back then.
He looked at his old coat, Inside Vanders. They needed the space after all. He let a small smile come on his face, remembering when they first did that and felt like geniuses.
His gaze shifted over the rest of the room. They went through so much together and he threw everything away.
That’s when he noticed it.
A small piece of paper, covered in dust, being held down by an empty glass. That wasn’t supposed to be there. He felt his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat on his forehead, he felt a chill over his body.
There’s only two people alive that still remember this place, and only two that would ever come here. Silco and Vander. That was a message. From Vander.
A snail could move faster than him right now. His hands shook, inching towards the table, picking up the cup and grabbing the paper from under it. He held it in both hands, eyes going over its dust covered front.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and to blow all the dust off. The words showed themselves. It was definitely his handwriting. He’s seen it a thousand times.
Silco, I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s clear you don’t want to be found. God I’m shit at this. I’m sorry. When she died…I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands. Anyways, you know where to find me.
Blisters and bedrock.
V.
What?
He couldn’t take it. He grabbed a chair and collapsed onto it.
What?
Vander’s betrayal was a regret.
He apologised.
All this time he thought Vander saw him as scum, as an evil man who killed his friends. He thought Vander a fool who couldn’t see that Zaun needed sacrifice in order to rise.
He thought Vander hated him.
He tried to drown him after all. He almost died in those horrid waters, only surviving by the skin of his teeth. Vander seemed so cold in his memories.
He could still feel it, the water rushing, the hands clasping around his neck as he struggled. But it felt different now, like the intensity was gone, lost in the confusion of his mind.
No, he couldn’t take this.
After years of struggles, his plan was almost in fruition. Vander doesn’t get to apologise now. But it wasn’t now. It was years ago. Vander tried to find him. He was just too good at staying hidden.
No!
This was Vander’s fault!
He’s not going to throw away years of work over one stupid letter.
He got what he came here for.
When he got up to leave, he found he couldn’t leave the letter behind.
It was just a piece of paper. But those words were worth millions to him.
Reluctantly, he stuffed the letter into his pocket and left the mines.
He came to clear his head and left with a thousand questions.
There’s no way he can work like this. He needs to realign himself. Find the Silco that will stop at nothing to make Zaun and bring down Vander while doing it.
Why doesn’t that seem appealing anymore?
His walk took him right back to where this whole thing began.
Those waters, the fear he overcame. The drive to survive that has kept his heart beating ever since. The unwavering will to create Zaun. That desire to never be under Piltover’s heel again.
He felt his coat slide off his body. He moved into the murky waters. Each step plays the scene of betrayal in his mind. The moment his friend turned foe.
In his hand, he gripped the knife tight. The same knife he took from Vander that day. It brought him freedom, strength, and life.
Once the water got to his waist, he submerged himself. The water rushed around him. He was floating. The water’s embrace was cold, but comforting. Strangely peaceful, in a way. That feeling at the edge of death, where every worry fades away, the mind goes blank and he can just let go.
Silco gripped his knife tight. He doesn’t get to let go. No matter what those other fools think or feel, Zaun will rise. It won’t happen by maintaining the status quo like Vander. It won’t happen with greedy Chem-Barons who only know how to line their own pockets. It will happen because a man born at the very bottom, who breathed the worst air imaginable, wanted to rise above Piltover.
Ambition burned within him. The water was no longer peaceful, no longer comforting. It was heavy, like a shackle chaining him down. Silco refused to be held down.
He stood up; the water rolled off him back into the river. droplets rolled down his face, falling from his chin and his damp mess of hair. He could see the ripples made from each drop of water falling.
Each one made just a tiny splash, and the ripples flowed out before fading away into the river. Silco stared at it. How many times did someone from the Undercity make a splash that faded over time? The ripples influenced the river, but it wasn’t big enough.
Silco didn’t need to make a splash, he needed to make waves. To shake Piltover, so they can’t ignore them. So they will respect them.
He can do it. Once Shimmer is complete, He will make a splash, the ripples will spread out and fade away. Piltover will move on, not knowing those ripples, that splash, will make a wave. A wave that will change everything.
He walked back towards his coat, using the outer layer to dry his hands. His fingers find the paper in his pocket. Silco was sure of himself now, he knew Vander had to die for the Undercity to rise. For his Undercity to rise.
But could they make a bigger wave together?
Is it possible that changing the Undercity, making Zaun rise, could be their dream again?
No.
It was impossible.
Vander is content. With his little family, merely keeping the peace. It smothered the fire within him.
Silco went home, his head heavy with thoughts. He tried to calm down, have a drink, and take a shower. The hot water rained on him, cleaning him of the chemicals in the river. A luxury he can afford now.
The idea that Vander wanted to apologise felt so foreign just hours ago. He thought of talking to him to go over to The Last Drop again, but could it truly be so easy?
Can he really forgive Vander?
Can Vander really forgive him?
He left his house, dry and clean, with a fresh set of clothes. The letter in his pocket, his hand went inside every few steps just to check it’s still there.
This was stupid.
He was giving up secrecy. One of his primary advantages. If things go wrong, he could lose everything.
Yet he couldn’t help himself. His legs kept moving, each stride measured and practiced, the walk ensured confidence that he was in charge, that he knew what he was doing.
In reality, he didn’t have a clue.
He moved through the streets of the Undercity, the future streets of Zaun. Things were getting better as he kept going. Sure, the people were still wary, but there was a sense of security.
You can’t break the rules here. The Hound of the Undercity will come and get you. Piltover had enforcers, here Vander and his people were the law enforcement.
He was too deep now.
He felt eyes on him, examining him a little too closely, lingering for a second longer than they should. Even if he walks away now, Vander will know.
The biggest advantage he had was now lost.
Now he has to take the gamble, betting it all on the fact that maybe, just maybe, he can get something out of this meeting.
The Last Drop came into view.
Blisters and Bedrock.
Maybe it’ll be a one in a million chance. He could get lucky.
Or maybe he doesn’t need luck. Maybe all he needs is to be a good friend again.
He finally made it to the bar. Pushing the door open, the place was empty.
They stacked the chairs and wiped the tables.
Looks like they just closed.
There was a noticeable lack of a big, terrifying beast of a man waiting for him.
From the ruckus downstairs, he can guess where Vander is.
Instead, sitting on a bar stool was a blue-haired girl. One of Felicia’s daughters. Powder was her name.
It felt like so long ago when she was born.
The girl was moping, looking sadly at a… grenade? It had drawings on it, a little cutesy face made with crayon.
The girl looked behind her. Seeing him enter the bar. “We’re closed,” she said, her voice low, slightly shaken, like she’d just been crying. From the red around her eyes, it looks like that had been the case.
“I’m sure Vander won’t mind. I’m an… old friend, you could say.” He said, his voice smooth, a practiced ease to make his words more compelling.
Powder looked at him strangely, not knowing what to do. So she waited, watching him carefully to see if he was a danger.
He sat on a stool, leaving one between them. Silco was curious, he’s never spoken to her before but it was Felicia’s daughter. Practically his niece. Not that it means anything.
“What do you have there?” He asked, filling the time with ideal chatter waiting for Vander. If he takes too long, he’ll send the girl to go get him.
Powder looked at him funny before turning to her gadget. “This is Mouser.” She said. He could hear the confusion in her voice, not understanding what’s going on. “It’s a… failure.” Her tone shifted, her words and posture all changed to self deprecation.
“Why do you say that?” Silco asked. Normally, kids would brag about anything they can.
“Because it never works!” She slammed the contraption onto the countertop, a dull ring as the metal met wood.
“Have you figured out why?” Silco asked calmly.
“No.” She said sharply.
“Then you have to take it apart,”
“What?”
“Things almost never work out the first time. Like with anything, machines, buildings, plans. You need to inspect every piece, figure out what everything does. Then decide, is it needed? Is it the right fit? Is it working properly? If your invention isn’t working, you need to take it apart, see what each piece is doing and find what’s not working,” Silco taught. Powder looked at him, her eyes wide. She took Mouser into her hands and slowly dissembled it.
Silco watched her as she emptied the contents of the bomb onto the counter. A bunch of rusty nails. It would be nasty to get hit by. She chaotically pulled the machine apart, tossing the pieces in front of her.
“Don’t be careless. You need to know what each piece does. You’ll find the fault and fix it. Then you keep refining, keep going until it’s better, until it’s flawless, until it’s perfect.”
Powder nodded, and her arms slowed. Instead of tossing things onto the counter, she was carefully placing them. Taking a moment to inspect each piece like she was fitting a puzzle together in her head. Sure enough, Powder’s eyes soon sparkled. Her mouth went wide as she took out a gear from the bomb. Unlike everything else, she tossed it behind her.
Digging into her pouch, she brought out a similar but slightly smaller gear, fitting it in. Silco could hear a satisfying click. She quickly pulled the pieces in front of her together. She took each piece and placed it in Mouser; her face scrunched up in concentration, eyes focused only on the bomb.
Silco watched her, nodding at how skilled the girl was now that she solved her little issue.
Powder screwed on Mouser’s head and looked at it in satisfaction.
Then she tossed it.
Silco’s eyes went wide. Instinctively, he wanted to dive over the bar, but beside him he could see the rusted nails. The bomb was empty.
The gadget bounced off the floor, going near the door where it rattled around for a moment before it stopped. He could see the girl’s smile turn into a frown. Her excitement became disappointment in an instant.
Then it exploded. A puff of pink and blue leaving a paint splat on the floor.
The girl jumped for joy. “I did it!” She screamed. Running over to the paint looking at her handiwork. “I can’t believe I did it,” she said. Her eyes shined with happiness. “Oh, Vi is going to be so proud, and Mylo can finally shut up.”
She turned around, looking at Silco. “Ah, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said profusely.
Of course, the bomb wasn’t silent. It was loud, very loud. Silco could hear heavy footsteps come up from behind them.
The door slammed open and there he was. After years, Silco finally saw him again. His best friend, once upon a time.
“What’s going on?” Vander asked, looking at the jumping child next to the paint splat on the floor. His eyes drifted to him and Silco could see the man freeze. He went pale, like he was seeing a ghost.
To Vander, he might as well have. The last time he saw Silco was when he tried to drown him.
“Silc-“
“Vander look! Mouser worked! It actually worked!” Powder screamed, running up to her father figure. Vander looked at her, startled, his eyes shifting back to the blue and pink paint. He shook his head and kneeled down, giving the girl a tight hug.
“That’s great Powder. Why don’t you go downstairs and tell Violet? Let me and him talk for a bit. Yeah?” He asked her, getting a bunch of excited nods in return. Powder sprinted down the staircase, her footsteps excitedly fading as Vander closed the door.
He walked behind the bar, pulling out two glasses and pouring out a drink for the both of them. He pushed one towards him before drinking all of his.
“What are you doing here Silco?” Vander asked, his eyes looked up towards his hanging gauntlets. His stance was weary. Silco was dangerous. He needs to be careful. He’s got a family to protect now.
He reached into his pocket, bringing out a neatly folded piece of paper. Placing it on the counter, he unfolded it, revealing Vander’s letter.
Vander’s eyes went wide, his stance loosened and hope gleamed in his gaze. Vander wondered, could Silco really be here to forgive him? After everything that’s happened, could they make amends?
His eyes locked onto the letter. It was so long ago; he left it there hoping that one day Silco would go back and find it. He hoped that one day he could get his friend back.
“I read your letter.”
Both Silco and Vander hoped in their hearts for this day. Where they could finally be friends again.