Arcane Anew

'Deep breaths' Orion thought, inhaling slowly. His mind drifted to Powder and the gang, a small smile forming despite himself.

He was happy everything worked out for them. When observing from a distance, Powder seemed troubled- her body language screaming something was wrong- but he couldn't hear the details.

He couldn't understand why though.

Compared to Arcane, Powder had Vi. She had Claggor, Mylo, Ekko- even Vander.

'I don't know what more I could do for her,' Orion grimaced, stomach growling. 'I can't think like this. I need some food.'

After Orion sank back into the shadows from the Last Drop, he wandered the streets, seeking food. While weaving through the stalls- keeping a firm grip on the silver tucked in his jacket, wary of pickpockets- he noticed purple hues blending with neon green between buildings.

'Shimmer,' Orion observed cautiously. 'So it continued to spread...'

"This is the good stuff," A deep, gravelly voice said.

A large, heavily augmented man chuckled obnoxiously from nearby, drawing his attention.

His frame was massive with oversized arms replaced by clunky chemtech augments. Metal plating covered both his chest and back, with glowing tubes of chemtech fluid running along into his cannons, mounted under each arm.

Despite these monstrous modifications, his face was well-groomed with slicked-back green hair and a curly mustache - a sharp contrast to his battle-modified figure. This man was in his twenties at least, maybe mid-twenties? And he had to have money to afford it.

Sitting at a food stall, puffing a pipe releasing purple vapor, the man exhaled a toxic-scented cloud with a deep grin

"I just can't get enough!" The man said, his teeth yellow and crooked. He tilted his pipe toward Orion who had taken a seat next to him with an overly friendly gesture. "Puff?"

Orion gaze flickered from the shimmering purple haze back to the creature's unsettling smirk.

"What is it?" Orion asked cautiously.

"What do you think? Shimmer-infused tobacco. Everyone knows here-" The man paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You're not from the Undercity, are you?"

"I am," Orion replied, hesitating before mixing in fragmented truths. "I was... sent away. Locked up for a time."

The man snorted, "Pfft, nobody talked to you rotating in? Must've been a swell guy."

"Prison made me a bit crazy," Orion shrugged before tilting his head. "What happened while I was away?"

"Boy, you really don't know?" The man chuckled with an incredulous expression before his attention shifted toward a steaming bowl of food slid toward him. "How long? A few months?"

"A year."

"A year?" Surprised, he took his first slurp from the bowl, food spraying, before speaking with irritation creeping into his voice. "Well, a year ago riots broke out. Enforcers kicked open the Hound's den, hurt his pups."

"Vander led another revolt?" Orion's eyes widened, attentively listening.

"Aye," Letting out a mocking chuckle and spat, "Hah! But just like last time, he fucking gave it up. Rumor says he even sacrificed one of his kids too."

The man slammed the counter, food staining his mustache, and anger replacing irritation as his gaze snapped to Orion. "Vander shouldn't have bared his fangs if he wasn't gonna use them!"

Orion fell silent behind the mask, absorbing the words as they were spoken. A soft poke to his forearm drew his attention to the stall owner, staring impatiently at him and reminding him where he was.

"Ah, sorry. One rat stew please." Orion slid his only silver coin across the counter when a low, dangerous growl emitted next to him.

"You're not with the Hound, are you?" Stiffening, Orion shifted his gaze back and saw that the man's gaze had shifted to suspicious hostility.

The man's upper lip twitched, baring a yellowed fang, and his metal claws curled as he gripped his bowl tighter.

"I'm not with anyone. I told you. I just got out." Orion scowled, his expression tightening behind the mask. The man couldn't see his expression though, only his tension.

"Yeah? Or maybe you were one of his followers before thrown in jail like a retard? You said a year? Matches the time of the riots."

Orion shook his head, "No, I worked under Silco before I got caught."

The man's entire demeanor shifted, his eyes widening as he leaned closer, voice dropping into a furious whisper.

"Oi! Don't say that name here!" the man hissed. "Things changed! Keep your voice down..."

"What? What happened to me being Vander's-"

"Both names will get you killed technically. Vander, he's changed." Leaning in, the man grabbed Orion and pulled him closer, whispering furiously, "I believe you! Just shut your mouth, alright?"

Grunting, Orion felt the metallic fingers tearing his skin. It wasn't intentional, it just lacked the fine motor control similar to most augmented limbs.

Growling, Orion pulsed magic into his arm, dislodging the grip with a sharp spark of energy. "Who's side are you on then?"

The man, who prided himself on his augmented arms, looked somewhat shocked.

His gaze fell to his three-fingered metal hand with confusion, shaking his head as if it were just a strange accident.

Scowling, he proudly announces with a smirk, "My name is Zarkon Poingdestre! Successor of the Poindestre ChemBaron family! We side with no one! Our family will rise above all others!"

"Uh-huh..." Orion remained unimpressed, earning a disappointed side-eye from Zarkon. "I'm Ori- Night light. Just a rogue resident, I guess." 

Clink

The cook finally slid Orion's stew forward, the scent making his stomach twist with hunger. He lifted his mask slightly, prepared to dig in when Zarkon sneered.

"Snot-nosed urchin."

-------------------------

Creak, hiss

A wave of fresh air washed over Orion as he stepped inside a breather station. Multiple stations, called Breather Stations, were scattered through the Entresol and Sump levels, providing clean air to the residents.

Just like the Cultivar, or the Factorywood garden 'C' owned, these were places of respite during the arduous city life. And if you stayed too long, an Enforcer would kick you out.

The pipes hissed as fresh air leaked out. People from all around sat close to them- greedy or desperate- trying to take it in. Normal residents, sickly individuals- even Zarkon hovered for fresh air, or so it seemed.

Breathing deeply through the mask, Orion needed this too. After so much time in Ionia, he had gotten used to clean air. This chemical bath he was swimming in scratched away at the sanity restored in Ionia.

'Maybe I should go looking around topside after this... at least I can breath there.'

Then a question popped up in his mind, and his gaze searched the room.

"Excuse me," Orion asked one of the workers who stepped in, "Where does this air come from?"

The worker paused for a moment, agitated that he was forced to stop at all. "Depends. Some are purified through alchemical filtration, but it's high maintenance and very unreliable. There are talks of this new Hextech Air Recycler- I'll believe it when I see it. This one however draws on a deep core vent-"

The man stopped explaining the technicalities suddenly when a shadow loomed over them.

"It's our property," Zarkon interrupted with a smirk. His enormous figure towered over them both, his metallic arms grinding noisily as he crossed them. "Speaking of, where's the analysis?"

Bowing his head, the man sweated nervously, "You will have it soon but..."

"If I must walk down in these filthy streets one more time because of you," Zarkon steps forward, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him into the air in front of everyone. No one, not even the Enforcer budged or looked willing to help. They only watched.

"Then prayers to Janna will be your only salvation."