League Of Legends/Arcane: Earthbound

Adam pushed open the door to The Last Drop, stepping inside as the heavy scent of alcohol, sweat, and smoke hit him like a wall. The air was thick, humid, and carried an underlying staleness that made him almost gag. The place was dimly lit, the glow of neon signs barely cutting through the haze. Laughter, shouting, and the occasional crash of glass filled the space, but despite the chaos, he felt every pair of eyes on him the moment he stepped in.

He ignored them.

Keeping his hood up, he made his way to the bar, the floor sticky beneath his boots. A few patrons muttered to each other as he passed, and he caught snippets of conversation—something about a gang war, a deal gone bad, and whispers of a name he didn't quite recognize. But he wasn't here to eavesdrop. Not yet, anyway.

He slid onto one of the stools at the counter, resting his arms on the worn-out wood. The bartender, a broad-shouldered man with dark skin, short dreadlocks, and tired eyes, wiped a glass clean before setting it down.

"Don't think I've seen you around before," the bartender said, eyeing him with curiosity.

Adam exhaled, shaking off the lingering unease from the stares around him. "Yeah, well, I just got here," he muttered.

The bartender nodded, grabbing a dusty bottle from the shelf behind him. "Name's Thieram. You drink?"

Adam watched as Thieram poured a murky amber liquid into a small, dented glass and slid it toward him. He stared at it for a moment before picking it up, bringing it to his lips. The first sip was enough to make him grimace. The burn was sharp, the taste like spoiled fruit mixed with motor oil.

"Shit," Adam muttered, setting the glass down with a hard thud.

Thieram smirked. "Welcome to the Undercity. It ain't exactly Piltover's finest, but it gets the job done."

Adam rolled his jaw, trying to get rid of the aftertaste. "Could've warned me."

"Wouldn't have been as funny." Thieram leaned on the counter, eyeing him again. "So, where you from? You don't look like you belong here."

Adam exhaled through his nose, choosing his words carefully. "Not from around here."

Thieram gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, figured that much. You ain't a Piltie, though. Too rough around the edges. So, what brings you to the Lanes? Business? Pleasure?"

Adam didn't answer immediately. He let his gaze wander across the bar, taking in the people. Most were drinking, laughing, and talking, but what really caught his attention were the ones off to the side. A group huddled in a dark corner, some inhaling a strange purple vapor through metal tubes, others injecting it directly into their veins. Their eyes dilated almost instantly, their bodies twitching, muscles tensing like they were ready to burst from their skin.

Adam frowned. "What the hell are they doing?"

Thieram followed his gaze and scowled. "Shit," he muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "Oi! I told you bastards before—no shimmer in my damn bar! Get the hell out before she comes down here!"

The users stiffened at that, exchanging uneasy glances before scrambling to their feet. A few stumbled on their way out, barely able to walk straight. One of them tripped, knocking over a chair, but didn't even seem to notice as he rushed toward the exit.

Adam watched them go, curiosity creeping in. "Shimmer?"

Thieram wiped his hands on a rag, his expression sour. "A drug. Nasty shit. Makes you feel strong, fast—like you could take on the whole damn world. But it'll rot you from the inside out. Warps your mind, eats at your body. Turns people into desperate husks chasing the next fix."

Adam nodded slowly, his stomach twisting at the sight of them. No matter where he was, some things never changed. Different city, different people, but the same damn addictions.

Thieram sighed, shaking his head. "Dumb bastards know I don't allow it in here, but they push their luck anyway. If Jinx caught them…"

Adam raised a brow. "Jinx?"

Thieram gave him a look like he had just asked if fire was hot. "You seriously don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

Thieram smirked at that. "Fair point. She's trouble. Wild, unpredictable, more than a little crazy. Blue hair, always carrying enough firepower to level a damn building, and a trigger finger that never hesitates. You don't want to get on her bad side."

Adam absorbed that, thinking back to the fight he had seen earlier. A blue-haired girl wielding a mini-gun and tearing through people like it was a game. "Sounds like a real delight," he muttered.

Thieram let out a short laugh. "Oh yeah, a real ray of sunshine."

Adam took another sip of the awful drink, wincing at the taste before setting the glass down. "So, she your girlfriend or something?"

Thieram's laughter exploded from his chest. He clutched his ribs, shaking his head as if Adam had just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Oh, hell no. Not in a million years." He wiped a tear from his eye. "You got a death wish, man?"

Before Adam could respond, a loud bang rang through the bar as the door slammed open.

Silence fell over the room.

A small, hunched man stumbled inside, his hood pulled low over his head, cracked glasses barely clinging to his nose. His clothes were ragged, hanging off his frail frame like they belonged to someone twice his size. He twitched, looking around with wide, frantic eyes before shuffling forward.

"M-Money… need money," the man muttered, his voice shaking. "Or— or shimmer. Just a little. Just enough."

He moved from person to person, reaching out, pleading. Most ignored him. Some shoved him away, one even kicking him in the side, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Adam clenched his jaw. The guy was pathetic, desperate, but it was the look in his eyes that hit the hardest. That hollow, haunted stare. He had seen it before, back home. Seen it in addicts willing to sell their soul for just one more hit.

The man—Huck, someone had called him—crawled forward until he was kneeling in front of Adam, his bony fingers gripping the edge of his coat. "Please, man. Anything. I'll—I'll do anything."

Adam felt a weight settle in his chest. He wanted to look away, but he didn't.

Thieram sighed behind him, walking around the counter and crouching beside Huck. He placed a firm, but surprisingly gentle, hand on the man's shoulder. "Huck, you gotta stop this, man," he said, voice quieter now. "I can't have you coming in here like this. You're scaring off my customers."

Huck flinched, but didn't argue. His entire body was trembling.

Thieram reached into his pocket, pulling out a small stack of coins. "Here. Get yourself some food. And I swear, if you spend this on shimmer, I'll find out."

Huck's eyes darted between Thieram's face and the money before he snatched it and bolted out the door without another word.

Adam watched him disappear into the streets, already knowing exactly where he was going.

Thieram sighed, shaking his head as he walked back behind the counter. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "Happens more often than it should."

Adam didn't respond immediately. He was still staring at the door.

Then, slowly, he stood.

"Where you goin'?" Thieram asked.

Adam pulled his hood up. "Following him."

Adam moved quickly but quietly, stepping out of *The Last Drop* and into the darkened streets of the Undercity. The air was thick with smoke and the distant sounds of shouting, clanking metal, and the ever-present hum of the city above. Huck was already a ways ahead, shuffling with that desperate speed of an addict who had money burning a hole in his pocket. 

Adam kept his distance, blending into the shadows of the alleyways as he trailed the man. The roads twisted and turned, narrow paths packed with makeshift stalls selling rusted weapons, scraps of tech, and whatever else could fetch a price in the Lanes. But Huck didn't stop for any of it. He had only one destination in mind. 

Adam's stomach tightened as Huck ducked into a narrow side alley, the kind of place where bad deals went down and people disappeared without a trace. He crept closer, pressing himself against the damp brick wall as he peeked around the corner. 

Huck was standing in front of a tall, gaunt figure cloaked in tattered rags. But it wasn't just any man. 

A *Vastaya.* 

Adam's breath hitched. He recognized the species instantly, a humanoid hybrid of animal and man. Morgana had taught him about them, about their connection to magic and the natural world, their oppression under Piltover's rule, and their struggle to survive in a world that saw them as little more than beasts. 

But this one? He wasn't some noble warrior fighting for his people. He was a rat-faced bastard with patchy fur, long, gnarled fingers, and yellowed teeth that jutted out from his snout. His small, beady eyes gleamed with amusement as he snatched the coins from Huck's trembling hands. 

"Pathetic," the Vastaya sneered, sniffing the money before stuffing it into his coat. "Barely enough for a rat's piss, but I'm feelin' generous today." 

Huck said nothing, just shifting anxiously from foot to foot, eyes darting to the small vial the Vastaya pulled from his pocket. The liquid inside shimmered a sickly purple under the dim alley light. 

Adam clenched his fists as he watched Huck grab the vial with shaking hands, immediately pulling out a syringe from his ragged coat. He didn't hesitate. Not for a second. The needle plunged into his forearm, and within moments, the change hit him like a thunderclap. 

Huck's entire body tensed, veins bulging against his paper-thin skin as a violent tremor overtook him. His breathing grew ragged, pupils dilating until his eyes were nearly all black. Then, in an instant, his frail frame seemed to *expand*. Muscles swelled unnaturally, his fingers flexing as if he was feeling power for the first time in his life. A manic grin stretched across his face, his chest rising and falling with each deep, exhilarated breath. 

Adam had seen people high before. But this? This wasn't just a high. It was *something else entirely.* 

The Vastaya chuckled, stuffing his hands into his coat as he turned to leave. "Try not to kill yourself, yeah? Bad for business." 

Adam watched as the rat-man slipped into the shadows, vanishing down another alleyway. *That's the guy I need to follow.* 

He waited a beat, then carefully peeled himself away from the wall, keeping his steps light as he trailed the Vastaya through the maze-like streets. The man moved fast, taking sharp turns and side paths as if he knew he was being watched. But Adam had spent enough time sneaking around back home to keep up without giving himself away. 

Eventually, the Vastaya reached a large, rusted factory on the outskirts of the district. Adam ducked behind a stack of metal crates, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. 

The building was heavily guarded. Men and women stood at the entrance, weapons slung over their shoulders, some holding old rifles while others had modified tech bracers crackling with electricity. Their armor was mismatched—scrap metal, leather, and stolen Piltover gear cobbled together to look intimidating. 

A gang, no doubt. Probably the ones running the shimmer trade. 

Adam exhaled slowly, his mind already working through the possibilities. He couldn't just waltz in. There were too many guards, and he didn't have a weapon. Not yet, anyway. 

*But maybe if I cause a little distraction…* 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as an idea formed. 

Time to stir up some trouble.