Runeterra: Arcane - CH 4

A little bell jingled overhead as I pushed open the door to the local Pawn Shop, the sound faintly drowned out by the hum of Zaun’s busy streets behind me.

“Benzo!” I called, stepping inside and letting the door close behind me.

The heavyset man looked up from behind the counter, his thick brows rising in recognition. “Hawk,” he said with a nod. “It’s been a while. Vander finally send you my way, huh?”

“A little bit over a month, and yeah, Vander sent me here,” I replied, smiling as I approached the counter. “He’s got a list of stuff he needs, and you know how he is. When he wants something done, it’s done yesterday.”

Benzo chuckled, his belly shaking with the motion. “Ain’t that the truth. Let me see the list.”

I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “It’s all bar stuff. Fixing this, patching that. You know the drill.”

Benzo unfolded the list, his eyes scanning the items. He muttered to himself as he read, his lips forming silent words. I leaned against the counter, taking the moment to glance around the shop.

The place was a mess, in that very specific kind of organized chaos. Shelves were crammed with everything from broken clocks to half-working devices. A rack in the corner sagged under the weight of mismatched tools, and the glass display case in front of me held an assortment of odds and ends, some of them useful, others… questionable. The shop had a bit of everything.

The sound of quick footsteps broke my focus. Before I could turn, a blur of motion zipped around the corner from the back room.

“Hawk!”

I caught sight of Ekko just as he skidded to a stop in front of me. The kid had grown a little since I’d first met him, but not much, he was still all scrawny limbs and boundless energy. His wide grin practically split his face in half as he looked up at me, clearly trying to play it cool. He was around Powder’s age, and just as energetic.

“Hey, little man,” I said, holding out a fist.

Ekko hesitated for just a second, like he was debating whether to go for a hug instead, but then his small hand bumped mine in a quick fist bump. “What’s up?” he asked, rocking back on his heels.

“Just running errands for Vander,” I said. “How about you? Staying out of trouble?”

“Always,” Ekko said, grinning even wider. “Benzo’s teaching me about repairs and stuff. You should see what I’ve been working on!”

“Yeah?” I said, leaning in a little. “What kind of stuff?”

Benzo snorted, glancing up from the list. “Stuff that makes my job harder. I swear, this kid’s got more energy than sense sometimes.”

“Come on, Benzo,” Ekko said, shooting the older man a mock glare. “You know you’d be bored without me.”

“Bored, sure,” Benzo said with a dry chuckle. “But at least I wouldn’t be fixing scorch marks on my workbench every other day.”

I laughed, ruffling Ekko’s hair despite his halfhearted attempt to duck away. “Sounds like you’re keeping him on his toes, little man.”

“Always,” Ekko said again, puffing out his chest like he’d just won an award.

Benzo shook his head, but there was a fondness in his expression as he returned to the list. “Vander’s got me digging through all my best stuff for this. You’d better tell him I’m giving him the friend discount.”

“Will do,” I said, watching as Ekko darted around the counter to peer over Benzo’s shoulder. “What do you think, Ekko? Is he hooking Vander up with the good stuff, or is he just clearing out the junk pile?”

“Hey!” Benzo protested, but Ekko was already grinning again.

“Looks like junk to me,” the kid said, hopping up onto a nearby stool.

“Traitor,” Benzo grumbled, though his smile gave him away. He pulled a few items from under the counter, setting them down with a heavy clunk. “Here’s what I’ve got so far. Some pipe fittings, nails, a couple of tools… still gotta dig for the rest.”

I nodded, inspecting the pile. It wasn’t much to look at, but Vander wasn’t picky. As long as it worked, he’d be happy.

“You need help?” I asked, glancing toward the back room.

Benzo waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. I’ve got it. You and Ekko can sit tight for a minute.”

Ekko perked up at that, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! Hawk, wait here. I wanna show you something!”

Before I could respond, he was off like a shot, disappearing into the back room with a flurry of footsteps.

Benzo sighed, shaking his head. “Kid’s got more projects than sense. Don’t know where he finds the time for all of it. I keep adding chores to his list, and he always has the time.”

“Probably doesn’t sleep,” I said, leaning back against the counter. “I remember being his age. Felt like there was never enough time to do everything I wanted to do.” Now, I was a kid with an old soul.

“Ha! You talk as if you were an old man. Just wait till you’re my age,” Benzo said with a chuckle. “Then it feels like there’s not enough time to do anything you want to do.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough.”

The sound of clattering metal came from the back room, followed by Ekko’s voice calling, “I’m okay!”

Benzo groaned. “Every damn day with this kid.”

I grinned, glancing toward the back room. “Sounds like he’s having fun.”

“Fun for him, heart attacks for me,” Benzo muttered, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

A moment later, Ekko reappeared, clutching something in his hands. He rushed back to the counter, holding up what looked like a crude but functional gadget.

“Check it out!” he said, his eyes shining with excitement. “It’s a wrench, but I added a thing that makes it spin faster when you crank this part here.”

I took the device, turning it over in my hands. “Not bad,” I said, handing it back to him. “Bet Vander could use something like this around the bar.”

“You think so?” Ekko asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Definitely,” I said. “You keep this up, little man, and you’re gonna be building stuff that puts Piltover to shame.” Like a time machine…

I don’t remember a lot of Ekko’s lore in League, and I never go to see the second second of Arcane, but in game his title was the Boy Who Shattered Time, and his ultimate allowed him to rewind time a few seconds. I wonder how exactly he will be able to create that here.

Benzo cleared his throat, pulling me out of the moment. “I’ll finish getting Vander’s stuff together. You two try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Ekko said, hopping off the stool.

I smiled, watching as Benzo disappeared into the back. Ekko started fiddling with his gadget again, his brow furrowed in concentration.

-——————————————- -——————————————- -——————————————-

"Take care kid,” Benzo said, ruffling my hair as he handed me a dusty crate filled with the things Vander needed to start the repairs. “This should get Vander through the week, or at the very least until I find better materials.”

“I will let him know,” I replied, shifting the crate in my arms, its weight reminding me to watch my step on the uneven streets. This place had a way of sneaking up on you with surprises, loose grates, stray pipes, or, if you were really unlucky, some overly enthusiastic thug looking for an easy score. Granted, not many thugs wanted get on Vander’s bad side, but you never know when you are going to meet the one person who doesn’t really care about the status quo, regardless of whether or not they can back their ambitions.

As I continued making my way back to The Last Drop, my thoughts began to drift. As they usually did when I was alone with my thoughts. Zaun might’ve been alive with noise and movement, but it often left a lot of room for the mind to wander.

Not long ago, I used to think I knew this place, canon knowledge and stuff. Used to, being the keyword. Playing League of Legends didn’t exactly make you a scholar, and the lore wasn’t never exactly a big part of the game, but I’d picked up enough lore to feel confident I could bluff my way through a conversation about it, that was at least until; Arcane dropped, and Riot officially started rewriting the lore from scratch.

I’d watched the first season of the show like everyone else, and like most, I was sucked into the story of two sisters and a city eating itself alive. Powder’s transformation into Jinx, Vander’s sacrifice, Silco’s ambitions and iron-fisted rule… it was tragic, gut-wrenching, and brilliant. The show, or at the very least… the first season of it, had been the best animated series I had ever seen, a fucking masterpiece.

And now, here I was, living it. Sort of.

The question had haunted me since I woke up in this world, or rather… even since I had fully accepted this wasn’t all in my head was: Could I stop it?

Stopping the tragedy of Arcane sounded like the noble thing to do. It made sense in theory, and let’s be honest, I was already emotionally invested with everyone here, I had tried to keep an emotional distance… but failed miserably at the task, so… I cared about them. Every day I spent with them made it harder for me to see them as characters in a story. Powder wasn’t Jinx yet. She was just a shy adorable kid with wide eyes and far too much curiosity. Vi… well, she was pretty much the same, I suppose, she was a fiercely protective big sister with a quick temper and a sharp tongue, who’s first approach to anything is a punch.

And Vander? The man had more depth than the show ever managed to portray. He was a caring man, always willing to protect those who needed his help. He was a protector, a friend, a father, anything those around him needed, because he cared for the people of Zaun, more than he cared about himself. He governed the Lanes not with power or fear, but through paternal authority, relying on people's gratitude and genuine respect for him to maintain order, and it bloody worked… everyone respected him.

That kind of respect was hard to miss… you could see it in everyone’s eyes, in the way they talked about him, even when he wasn’t near.

He wasn’t just a martyr, a plot device to push the narrative forward. The thought of him lying cold and broken beneath Silco’s boots made my stomach twist.

The thing about watching a show is that you know how it ends, sure… you grow to love the characters, their struggles, their dreams, their fears, their victories, but no matter how attached you might think you are to them, you know it isn’t real, you care about them, but… not really. That’s part of the beauty of it all, you come to a show… waiting to be surprised, to be taken on a journey, to laugh, to cry, to feel. And the good shows do just that.

But that’s the entire point, you want that from a show, from a book, from a movie, but not from your own life.

There was a time I saw Arcane as beautiful work of art, and masterpiece that shattered every expectation I had for the better… now? I just saw it as a nightmare.

The haunting part of it all was that I had no idea how to derail the story from its intended path.

I could stop the kids from ever taking that heist, avoiding the explosion and the problems with Piltover, but even then… it didn’t feel like it would change much on the long run. Silco wanted Vander six feet under, and seeing how determined the guy was when it came to his goals, I had no doubt he would find another way of getting what he wants.

Dealing with Silco was another option. But… I wasn’t a killer, fighting I could do, I was good at that; never lost a fight, got a few broken bones and stuff, but I always came on top, not because I was a master, hell, I didn’t know any martial arts or special techniques, I just never gave up and continued fighting until the other person couldn’t, I didn’t have to be the best fighter or the one that struck the hardest, I just had to be the one to stand the longest.

But I had never taken a life… and even if it came to that… and I somehow steeled myself to kill him, it’s not like I could ever get close enough to actually do it, he’s a crime lord. He had hundreds of people; if not more, working for him, and as much as the average man likes to fantasize about this kind of scenario, playing the role of John Wick in their heads, beating hordes of people with brutal efficiency… we all know what would happen, realistically speaking.

Most of us didn’t have the training required to do even half of the stuff action movie protagonists do like its second nature. Hell, I’m pretty sure even the best damn soldier back on earth couldn’t get into a building killing dozens of armed guys with nothing but a pistol, an Armani suit to look the part, and sheer determination to complete their task.

And unfortunately for me, that was exactly the kind of bullshit I needed to pull if I ever decided to kill Silco.

I shifted the box in my arms, huffing at the strain, as I approached the bar, the muffled hum of voices and music spilled out from inside, warm and alive.

My footsteps slowed as I reached the door, and for a moment, I just stood there.

How… how long did I have before it all went wrong? Before I had to act?

I know I had a few years before… all that, but it somehow felt like it was just around the corner, far but not too far.

I shook my head. “Not today,” I muttered, stepping inside the bar.

The sight that greeted me was the usual one. Miners, factory workers, prostitutes and the occasional shady character doing shady things in the shadiest table, filled the space with laughter, incoherent drunk noises, shouts, and the clink of glasses.

It was surprising how despite being an entirely different universe, one that operates under fundamentally different rules, it still somehow, managed to share a few constants with my old home, like the fact that no matter what; a good bar would always be full of customers, and the customers would always find the money to come back, regardless of their economical situation.

“Finally!” Vi’s voice cut through the noise as she appeared from somewhere near the back. “Took you long enough.”

“Good to see you too, Vi,” I said, setting the box down on the counter with a thud.

She smirked, leaning against the bar. “What, did you stop to build a nest on the way back, feathers?”

“Sure did,” I said, wiping my hands on my pants. “Practicing for when I have to impress the lucky Formel with my nest building skills.”

“Formel?” Vi blinked dumbly at me, the smirk fading from her face as confusion replaced it.

“Bird term for a female hawk, though I think its also used for female eagles," I explained, holding back a chuckle. “The male Hawk goes by Tiercel, in case you were interested.”

“Oh,” Vi replied after a moment. “You know a lot birds...”

“With a name like mine?” I chuckled "Only makes sense, right?" I added, giving her a playful nudge. “Besides the best way to avoid others teasing you or bullying you with things like your name for example, is knowing most of the material, that way they can’t surprise you.”

“Is that so?” Vi replied, crossing her arms.

“Yep,” I replied, before nodding towards the box. "Now, If you're done failing to mock me, I think Vander's waiting for this."

Powder popped up beside her, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

“Stuff Vander needed,” I said, nudging the box toward her. “Nothing exciting. Unless you’re really into nails, pipes, duct tape and sealant.” Which she totally was, I had honestly never seen a kid like her before, well, I lie, Ekko was also brilliant. But the fact that I knew two kids; who had barely lived for half a decade and were already this smart was nothing short of impressive, especially seeing that when I was their age, I was watching Dragon Ball and trying to turn Super Saiyan.

I mean… Ekko alone was going to create some kind of device that allows him to manipulate time on a short scale, and based on his looks on the game and his title as The Boy Who Shattered Time, it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion that he would make said device while still being very young. On his late teens maybe?

As an outsider, watching or reading about these kind of things behind a screen, deeming them as fiction… its easy to rationalize what you can’t understand as part of the plot, leaving it at that. But… when fiction becomes reality, as it is with my case, it goes from: the script demands this impossible thing to happen, to; this impossible thing is happening despite being the fact it should be impossible.

Vander appeared behind the bar. “Got everything?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Though Benzo says you will need better materials soon, but that these should hold until he gets better stuff for you.”

Vander nodded, his gaze flicking to the box. “Good work, kid. Go grab yourself something to eat. You’ve earned it.”

I nodded. “Won’t say no to that.”

As I turned toward the back room, Vi’s voice followed me. “Hey, don’t forget. It’s game night tonight, and everyone is playing, even Mylo.”

Poor Mylo… he had accrued some much chore debt, which is the currency we use to bet in our games, that he was probably eligible to file for Bankruptcy, he was terrible at any game we played, like painfully bad… I had no idea how or why he was so bad at the games, seeing he understood the rules, but he was, and because of that, he had accumulated a large amount of debt.

I tried to be the better person, an older brother to him, telling him to stop playing, to stop going for every double or nothing that comes his way… he didn’t listen, and now, well… let’s just say his grandkids will doing chores for Vi and Claggor.

Talking about Claggor, I am still shocked he turned out to be coldest player in our group, he goes from the friendly; somewhat nervous, big guy we all know, to a cold and unfeeling machine who will show no mercy during game nights.

“Yeah, yeah,” I called over my shoulder. “Go easy on Mylo, will you? He’s like three bets away from signing a slavery contract to both Claggor and you,” Though considering how big his debt is, he might as well be.

“I make no promises, Feathers.”