Author's Note: It's interesting to write Vander as such an antithesis of what he becomes later on in life. I feel I might be making him sound a bit manipulative, but I don't think he was, certainly not intentionally. Silco will be the one to develop that side on his own. Vander is this larger than life figure, with that teenage spirit that he's the one who knows best and that can do anything, screw those who tell him otherwise. And Silco is a kid at the right time to be influenced by and to look for a role model.

Warning: police brutality, social injustice

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They left Old Nana's place some hours later, that spirit of resistance flared up strong in Vander's soul, the reminder of why their very breath was a rebellion against those who felt they didn't deserve to exist. The dull throbbing of his hand was another good reminder of the oppression that had to end, no matter how long it took. To dream that the whole of the Undercity could unite under one common goal, one common Zaun, didn't seem so hard when you were with people like Old Nana, or Benzo, or Arro, or Orie. Or Silco.

"Hate is a very strong word, and a very powerful thing," Old Nana's words rang in him as he walked with Silco, said between the coughs of sick air rotting her lungs and quieted down by cigarette smoke. "It's easy to bind people over what they love, but over what they hate? Hate for one common thing, love for the opposite. That's how you get Zaun. That's what you need to make change."

People from Topside didn't deem them enough to even feel hate over. The Undercity was simply not worth sparing their thoughts. A problem best left out of sight, out of mind.

Well, the Undercity had enough hate to spare.

Silco seemed a bit overwhelmed by the conversation at Old Nana's. The whole day had been pretty eventful for a kid like him, if Vander gave it some thought. He didn't seem used to have as much action, between people and fights, like Vander was. He would do well to remember Silco wasn't even fifteen, after all. Probably not even thirteen yet. But what did age matter, when the subject was Zaun? Change? Freedom?

Still, it was a dream. Change takes time. Effort. Sacrifice.

Vander was ready for all of it, but not everyone was. He tried not to take it to heart, but it was difficult. He wasn't the best at doing that, with his impulsiveness and everything. He was not happy with how some of the folks handled the confrontation with the Enforcers, the way they prefered to lay low, to accept, to avoid trouble. Some people were just like that. And Vander didn't like it.

Which was why he immediately felt off with the folks over at the alley he dropped Silco in. A handful of kids lived there, amongst cardboxes working as cushions in dry-enough spots on the floor, and Silco appeared to be the youngest of the lot. A spontaneous arrengement that had worked out, it would seem, at least at first sight. Vander didn't know any of them beyond the casual recognition; not a bad sign in and on itself, but a sign of something, anyway. They didn't greet Silco with any particular enthusiasm, eyeing Vander with caution and wariness - not unlike Silco's own general behavior towards pretty much everything. For all his bluntness, Vander was a people's person, so he did what he always did, but his greeting was met with equal lack of interest.

"What if you come with me to look for the guys?" he suggested, much to Silco's surprise.

"But..." he said, vaguely gesturing to the alley. They had just got there.

"It's always best to have extra help," Vander replied.

"Okay... sure."

"Showing the premises to strangers, Silco?" a teenager girl asked with a drag. It ticked him the wrong way.

"This is Vander," Silco told the girl. "He's a friend."

"Everyone knows Vander," she said, sitting up straight over her bed/box.

"Don't think we've met yet," Vander replied, stepping forward. The wary mistrustful kids jerked like frightened animals, though Vander didn't really know how to feel about the way the girl looked at him. "All cool?"

Neither the girl or the others replied. Vander frowned, but Silco was quick to move, going over the corner where his things were, a miserable little bundle covered by a quilt, and rummaged it around looking for something. Vander didn't know if he actually wanted something or if he was just pretending to have an excuse for their detour, and he didn't ask when Silco returned to his side and they left, always under the piercing gaze of the girl.

"We always have trouble with people coming out of nowhere," Silco said as if to apologize. "So it's always a bit uneasy even when they show up with us."

"You guys get along?"

Silco shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose."

Vander nodded. Silco oughta know how to handle them, after all. But the small exchanged rubbed him off the wrong way.

They walked around for a while afterwards, asking a bunch of people if everyone from the group was accounted for. Too soon, he reassured himself at the lack of answers he managed to gather. They made their way to the warehouse, and were relieved to find Benzo there.

"Do you know how the others are?" he asked after a strong hug.

"I got word from pretty much everyone. Lanny is fine, which is a relief, with the bun up in the oven and everything. Girl can run, though!" Benzo said cheerfully, however his face fell soon after. "Don't know 'bout Arro, though."

Vander frowned, not liking the sound of that. The three of them went to the usual spots where he might've be hiding, Silco tagging along and sucking names and addresses like a sponge ("Learning a few new places for free, huh?" Benzo told him lightly), and it wasn't until they visited one of the brothels that Babette, the Yordle that all of them had always known with the same aged and always impeccably made-up face, told them: "He's with our healer. The Enforcers did a number on him."

Benzo and Silco turned in worry to Vander, but he was already stomping down the corridor, ignoring Babette's and some of the other workers pleas to be calm. He entered the wrong door, causing a startle on the people busy inside and promptly ignoring the client's protests before he moved to the next room. Arro was laid down on a bed surrounded by the familiar faces of the brothel's doctor and Orie.

"Heard ya from a mile away, ya beast," Arro joked despite the fact his face was covered in growing bruises and patches of dried up blood that had only been cleaned over the necessary spots. The healer was wrapping a bandage around his head.

"Shit," Vander hissed. "How did those fuckers get you?"

" 'Twas other Enforcers, if ya can believe my luck," Arro said, groaning as the bandage tightened slightly. "They must've increased their patrols. Fucks saw me running and launched after me, no questions asked."

"Shit," it was Benzo's turn to curse as he heard the answer. "Babette wasn't lying, huh."

"Orie!" Silco said when he saw her.

"Hey there, Silco. Glad to see you're not in the same state as this sorry ass."

"My blessed angel, this one," Arro said, grabbing Orie's hand and squeezing.

"It was just luck," she retorted. "I managed to distract the Enforcers with the help of some more people."

"She dragged me up herself," Arro explained in return. "I'd be drownin' in my own blood if it weren't for her."

"Was no use to bring him to my place in the state he's in, so I figure I'd bring him here instead."

"And it was for the best," the healer stepped in. "He has a serious concussion, plus a broken nose and a shattered rib. You need absolute repose for the next weeks."

Arro hissed as if hearing the injuries made them pinch. When he politely refused, Orie shoved a glass of water in his hand, far from the clean one they had brought from Topside but good enough to drink.

"So you did get lucky after all, you bastard," Benzo joked to ease the mood. Arro shrugged with the same lighthearted expression, but he didn't dare move his head, and the pain was visible under his face.

Vander felt his hands itch and he clenched them tight. Arro could've died. Over nothing. Over some entitled idiots.

It kept happening. It would keep happening. Until when?

"This is terrible," Babette sighed under him, having joined them at a certain point. "Where are we headed, if they start brutalizing people this way?"

Vander breathed sharply through his nose and spinned around, shoving his fist against the wall with all his force. It sent a spark of red hot pain up his arm but he bit his teeth shut and glared at the crack his knuckles opened on the wall. All of them startled up, even Benzo. The healer looked at him disapprovingly.

"Vander," Babette called, literally a rebuke. "That's not helpful."

"Then what is? Just fucking letting this happen?"

"Hurting yourself or what little we manage to have won't help."

"He's just angry," Benzo said, his tone sinking.

"We all are. But-"

"But what? 'It's just how things are'?"

Babette frowned. "That's not what I was going to say, Vander."

"Enforcers shouldn't simply be allowed here," Silco spoke all of a sudden. "They are worthless, they only do harm."

"That's a hard bargain to strike when Topside gets more and more robberies. They're sent to do their job, even though-"

"This is their job?!"

"Please, lower your voices," the healer requested, but no one heard them.

"So what there's more robberies Topside? Who says it's us?" Silco threw out, sulking almost immediately afterwards under Babette's eyes. "What're we supposed to do? Starve to death quietly?"

"It's not food that's being stolen."

"Damn right it is when I do it," Silco replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Kid's right," Benzo agreed.

"How can we look at an Enforcer and not see an abuser?" now it was Orie joining the discussion, pointing to Arro. "When this is all we see? They don't protect people, they just attack without provocation. They don't see us as people, but as threats. We're all criminals, and the crime is just being born here."

"I sure won't be hopping of joy next time I see one," Benzo agreed again.

"Then they shouldn't fucking be allowed down here!" Vander cursed, barely able to stop himself from throwing another punch. His hand throbbed as if in warning, but he cared little for it, thinking on the feeling of the metal mask being crushed over the Enforcer's face, breaking cartiledge and maybe bone underneath it, hoping it'd leave a scar so at least that one fucker would always remember what it meant to attack them.

Babette sighed. She rummaged a pocket looking for a cigarette holder and lit herself a smoke.

"Violence is never the answer, neither for us nor for them. I don't think the Enforcers are in the right, but I know they have much more power than we do. Our options are limited, and have always been. That is how things are."

"They don't have to be!" Vander shouted.

"Have you ever seen anyone actually being successful?" Babette asked seriously. They had had this conversation before, not in such an altered state (not that Vander had been much calmer). "No one likes to live like this, son, yet here we are. We aren't improving our situation this way."

"How can we, when they beat us on a whim?"

"You kids know you're not without fault. The Enforcers should not attack people this way, but they have orders to stop crimes from happening."

"I run a legitimate business," Arro spoke quietly. "They didn't care to ask."

"You deal stolen Piltovian goods, son."

"And a lot of other acquired goods, too. What would ya have me deal, rock from the mines?"

"I'm not saying you don't have your reason, Vander," Babette sighed out a cloud of smoke, her small and frail frame such a contrast from his own. "I'm just saying there's no real way to change like this. I should know, with how long I've lived here."

"So your wise advise is we're just supposed to take it? Dammit! When's this gonna end? When they crack out fucking skulls open just because we look their way?!" Vander roared, making the healer raise their head.

"I will have to ask you to calm yourself." That wasn't really a request. "I have a patient."

Vander looked at the healer, fuming them with his eyes, but he just huffed and turned his back on the room. He bumped into the client from before in the corridor, who seemed ready to protest again before he thought twice and sprawled himself against the wall to get out of Vander's way. As soon as he got outside the brothel and tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, he coughed the insufferable air and started punching his pockets looking for a pack of cigarettes. When he found it, he shoved one in his mouth, almost biting it in half in rage when he remembered he didn't have a lighter. He heard rummaging behind him and didn't have to ask before Benzo handled him his lighter. He immediately sucked as much smoke his lungs could hold. At least that was his choice, and better for his health than their air.

Babette wasn't alone. That was the problem. They just fucking accepted it. The inevitability of it, as if there was no other way! As if Vander was the one in the wrong for even daring to want something else.

"Let's all just return to the warehouse. I need to sleep."

"Are you sure I can-" Silco tried, but Vander sent him a look of fury that wasn't really directed at him, he was just annoyed at everything and having a discussion about whether or not he should come to their place for whatever damn reason or another was not something Vander could wrap his head around right now. Silco seemed to notice it, because he closed his mouth. Vander still heard a soft: "...was just asking."

Vander walked further ahead from the other two boys, hearing Benzo's voice as he talked effortlessly, dealing with his own anger in his way. If Silco spoke the whole way, Vander didn't notice.

"You have beds?" he was unable to keep down though when they got to the warehouse and he actually got a good look inside. Vander looked at the different types of mattresses scattered around or bundled together.

"Gets tough sleeping on hard floor."

"Tell me about it. You've seen my top quality cardbox," Silco said half-joking, half-serious.

Vander sank into the mattress he used to crash in. Now that he was calmer from the scene with Arro and Babette, other parts of his body incited renewed waves of anger, like a pulsating ache on the both sides of his head and a growl of his stomach to drive home where the headache came from. He got up and went ask around the warehouse, finding someone who had managed to smuggle in a sack of apples. He traded the last of the clean water he had for three apples and threw them to Benzo and Silco when he returned to the bed.

"Where'd they get this?" Benzo asked, moaning loudly in delight.

"I don't remember the last time I ate one of these," Silco agreed, slurping the juice that threatened to drip from his mouth.

Vander took mouthfuls of his own piece of fruit, letting it quiet down the hunger. He feared he wouldn't be able to sleep, but all the adrenaline of the day took a toll even on him and he dozed off even with Benzo's tired snores next to him and Silco.

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The next day he woke up early, his hand throbbing and swollen. He cracked his fingers despite the pain it caused him, snapping them open and closed so he'd get them operational again.

Silco wanted to go back to the mines ('wanted' being a relative term). Benzo complained, but he figured he should go back too to see how things were, if there was any signs of Enforcer meddling or shit-talking behind each others backs.

Vander didn't want to return to the mines. The chance that the Enforcers could notify the workers and bosses there, even more easily bribe them, annoyed him. How eager folks would be to wiggle their tails over a few snacks was anyone's guess, and Vander knew where to bet his coin. He snorted just from thinking on some of the people in the mines, especially the overseers, and how sure he was they'd cut the first next deal with Enforcers that came on the table; they already had enough bribes and benefits from Topside people as it was, one way or another. They wouldn't have got in their positions to begin with without those.

Yeah, people were getting by as they could. Looking out for their own bellybuttons, with no regard of the fact they were considered inferior, that they were literally working for someone else's benefit. Old farts, getting comfortable in some else's shadow.

Vander wouldn't thank anyone for scraps.

He stayed busy during the day, looking for a job around and away from the bridge and Topside. Anything would do, but honestly, something that included roughening up people was what he needed right now to blow off the residual steam from the previous day. Luck was on his side, and a shady businessman needed a good wake-up call to step up to his overdue payments.

He disregarded his bruised hand and punched the man to a pulp, got his pay for the job and went to buy a good sack of food he brought to the warehouse and enjoyed while he waited for Benzo to return.

There was no sign of anyone being on the lookout for someone in particular, Benzo told him. It should be safe to go work if he wanted, but again, 'want' was a relative term. Silco must've returned to his alley, and Benzo said he hadn't seen him the whole day because they got assigned different work stations.

Vander ended up returning the following day to assess things for himself, and because he had meant his words to Silco before the whole thing with the Enforcers happened; it was best not raise suspicions of snitches and the like. Everyone knew Vander did all sorts of odd jobs in the Undercity, but how much he stole and from where were very small rumors that he intended to keep that way. So he had to go back to work eventually.

Knowing he wouldn't get it easy, as they couldn't waste someone with his physique on 'light machine job' for long, especially after his several-day absence, he was ready to be put in the lower levels where you could barely breathe, but to his surprise, there seemed to some sort of gathering happening. They seemed to have stopped most operations, as there was quite less dust and noise than usual, and he had to go by safety checks that normally were nowhere to be seen. No one looked at him funny during those, so maybe Old Nana really was right and the Enforcers wouldn't assume they'd return back to work so soon. He was given proper protection materials and, to his shock, even a flask of murky drinking water.

"The fuck is this?" he asked the first person he crossed with, also equipped with the new stuff. "Since when do we have all these work conditions?"

"Bah, some higher up from Topside's coming, whyddya think?"

"Yeah, why else would they bother?" another one joined in.

"Damn show off for the Pilties?" Vander cursed under his breath. Weren't they all about that out of sight, out of mind mentality? Why bother come by, just to humiliate them, remind them how worthless they were all the time except when it suited them? "Fuck the whole lot of us all the time, so long as Topside sees something pretty for one day?"

"Of course," someone gruffed, spitting to the floor.

Vander grit his teeth. He looked around looking for Benzo, nodding his head to all the familiar faces until he found Benzo's. As he approached him, he stumbled on Silco by chance.

"Hey," he greeted. He was covered in a day-old thick layer of dirt and soot - must have been put in the escavations tunnels again, short and lean as he was, that type of body was the best to work there. He had already drank his whole canteen, and they hadn't even started working yet. "Can you believe this? Since when do they bother to give us water?"

"Since they need to put up some show not to shock the Pilties," Benzo guessed.

"Watch yar mouth!" a woman talked back, listening in on them. "What matters is we get this now!"

"I'm supposed to be happy about this?" someone else cut in. "Where was any of this protection equipment when I crushed my hand last month?"

"This wouldn't have stopped that from happening, ya idiot."

"What do ya wanna do about it? That's just how things are, right?"

"What, can't even complain anymore? Just have to bend in and take it?"

"If ya don't like it, there's plenty that'd like to be in ya place! Stop stalling."

"Yeah, she's right, man."

"Yeah, what's the point? This is how things' always been."

"Let's just enjoy it while it lasts at least. Could've given us more water, though!"

Vander breathed heavily. Again, same exact talk! How did these people live?

"Things sure ain't gonna change this way," he said between gritted teeth.

"There's no point in it."

"Yeah, really... what's the point?"

"Ah, Vander. When I was your age, I thought that way too. I know better now."

Vander breathed sharply through his nose, trying to calm himself down while he could feel the want to break someone itch every pore of his body. Age had nothing to do with it. That was the stupidest argument anyone could throw at that moment. If only these people would bother to see what would happen if they tried, if they raised their fists together against this shit instead of opening their mouths to swallow it.

Babette before, now this? A whole horde of these lapdogs.

"Fuck this," he spat out, throwing the canteen and protection equipment to the floor. A wave of complains followed, but Vander turned his back to them again. People let him pass without daring to say a word, but one of the overseers caught sight of him.

"Hey you! Vander! Where're ya going?"

"Vander! You don't just decide not work when you feel like it!"

"Watch me."

Benzo scoffed and shook his head, following him close behind together with another handful of faces he recognized. Eventually, he realized one was missing, and he felt a spark of anger that Silco hadn't joined them.

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With the lack of people to fight (and his hand needed rest), he asked around for welding or locksmith jobs he could try to do. Putting metal plates together was the second best thing to calm down, and easier on his knuckles.

At the end of the day he went by Arro's just to check, scoffing as he opened the door and found him behind the counter.

" 'Absolute repose', huh."

"Got mouths to feed. Starting with mine," Arro replied with a careful shrug. He coughed out a laugh that disguised the pain he felt. "What's new?"

"Had enough of the mines, pressed metal the whole day," Vander summed up. "Might have something to sell you these next few days for the chemtech folks."

"Oh, speakin' of the mines, that kid, Silco?, he came looking for ya earlier."

Vander frowned. "Why'd he come here?"

"Figured he might find ya here, I dunno. Told him to check up later again, wasn't gonna tell him where you lived out of the blue, right?"

He already knew where he lived, for hell's sake. He could've just gone straight to the warehouse.

"With him it's cool. He's like us. Or at least I think he is," he forced himself to grumble.

"Really? Wouldn't have guessed." Despite his annoyance, Vander was starting to see a pattern, and probably why Silco clearly doubted himself so much. No one saw anything under the surface.

The door pushed open and Vander turned, finding an even filthier Silco than he one he'd seen that morning.

"Vander! I was looking for you"

"I heard." Vander crossed his arms over his chest. "So? How nice was it to work all dolled up for the Pilties?"

"It sucked, of course," Silco twisted his face. "They had us work less, actually, but they had these supervisors or whatever they were just grazing around, looking at us like animals on some cage."

Vander shut his jaw. Just from imagining it he felt his skin crawl.

"Listen," Silco said, looking at Vander with an expression that told him he knew Vander wasn't happy about the thing that happened. "I hated it there today. Felt like I was supposed to be thankful for their scraps. I stayed because I think it's best that at least one of us keeps working for a while longer."

"Why? I can find us jobs better than anything in that shitty mine," he spat, though he didn't know for sure if he could, and although he felt a reassurance by Silco's choice of words.

Silco smiled. "I have an idea."

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