Arcane: Broken Mechanism

Sirion had been beaten. Blood was trickling from his broken nose, leaving a salty taste on his lips and dripping onto the dirty floor beneath his feet. He swayed slightly as they dragged him along by his arms, but even in his state he couldn't help but make a sarcastic comment, unusual for his olderself.

"So, did you feel like a hero, beating up a kid?" he croaked, spitting out blood.

"Shut up, kid," one of his escorts snapped, pushing him roughly forward. "You asked for it."

Sirion was being dragged back toward the area he had just fled. At first, he was too focused on the pain to pay attention to his surroundings, but gradually he began to notice: the air here was thick with heavy fumes, making it hard to breathe.

His throat was sore, as if sand had been poured into it. Each breath was accompanied by the sensation that something foreign was entering his lungs, poisoning them from the inside. This air smelled of mold, chemicals and burnt metal, causing him to involuntarily want to pinch his nose and breathe through his mouth.

"How do people even survive here?" flashed through his mind. "I can't breathe normally for even five minutes, and they live in this for years?"

He looked around, trying to see where these fumes could be coming from. Zaun, as before, looked oppressive: the walls of the houses were covered in slime and soot, metal pipes were sticking out of some, from which plumes of smoke spewed into the sky. In the corners of the houses, pools of an incomprehensible liquid had accumulated, emitting a sharp chemical smell.

"What, your breathing is weak?" one of his guards said mockingly. - "You've lived in our area for so long, kid, you should get used to the fact that there are a lot more fumes around the chemtech factories than in the center of Zaun - The Hound of the Undercity has set strict rules to fuck him. Everyone goes through this. If you don't get used to it, then consider yourself lucky: fewer mouths to feed."

These words hit Sirion harder than the blows before. Now he understood: Zaun is not just a dirty place. It is a place where survival in itself is a feat.

Sirion desperately struggled, trying to free himself, but each time he was roughly pulled back. One of the guards, tired of the resistance, hit him hard in the stomach. The blow was precise and painful, the air instantly left his lungs, and everything inside him seemed to shrink.

Sirion bent over, gasping for air, and everything went dark before his eyes. The pain was so sharp that he had to rest his hands on his knees to keep from falling.

"Have you calmed down?" one of the men grinned maliciously. "You better listen, otherwise next time I won't limit myself to just one blow."

Sirion nodded silently, unable to even snap back. Anger was boiling inside him, but he knew that now it was better for him to obey. Every attempt at resistance only made his situation worse.

Sirion finally took his mind off his pain and fear, and began to pay attention to the world around him. Along the way, his guards led him through streets that resembled a maze. Many buildings made of iron and glass towered above him, but they looked like they were built from whatever they could find in a junkyard. There were rust marks and cracks everywhere, and in some places the windows had metal plates instead of glass.

The sky, if it could even be called a sky, was covered in a thick, suffocating smog. It hung like a heavy blanket, making it difficult to breathe and filling the air with a bitter, chemical smell. Every breath left a sting in the throat.

The people they met along the way were dressed in rags. Most looked like they hadn't eaten for days: thin, with sunken cheeks and dark circles under their eyes. But Sirion noticed that the crowd was not only human.

Small gnome-like creatures with intelligent faces, large creatures resembling fish-like humanoids, and massive figures vaguely resembling orcs occasionally flitted among the passersby. Zaun was full of diversity, and it was both impressive and frightening.

"Where are you taking me?" Sirion asked hoarsely, the attempt to speak causing pain in his throat.

At first his words went unanswered. The men holding him back merely glanced at each other, as if considering whether to say anything.

They were already passing the third brothel on their way. Behind the dirty, but deliberately decorated windows, figures of girls could be seen, who were clearly attracting attention with a polished manner. Some of them waved at Sirion's escorts, capturing their gaze for a moment.

"Where we need to take you," one of the escorts, tall and thin, finally muttered, casting a lazy glance at Sirion. "But they don't like to ask questions here, so shut your mouth."

"Yeah, better not ask unnecessary questions, kid," another, stocky one added, grinning. "Especially when we come to our boss. He especially doesn't like it when people ask unnecessary questions.

- The boss? - he decided to try his luck and asked a new question.

- What's wrong with you, are you completely out of your depth? So you've been living in our area for a whole month and still haven't bothered to ask where and under whose wing you've ended up living? Our area is one of the chem-baron's zones of influence.

"Chem-baron..." Sirion thought to himself. In the series, chem-barons were those who were crime bosses, each of whom controlled a part of the Lower City. Etol was a large-scale criminal alliance consisting of wealthy homeowners, factory owners, mafia bosses and business magnates, using their wealth and armies of mercenaries to keep the residents of Zaun in fear and prevent complete chaos in the Lower City. They produced Chem-tech. The show had said very little about chem-tech, but from what he understood, it was a precursor to the Shimmer. Some kind of substance that allowed the user to become stronger.

Sirion was silent. The street around them came alive again: slurping sounds from somewhere around the corner, neighbors cursing, merchants loudly offering their wares that more resembled garbage. It all mixed into one oppressive cacophony that only intensified the already oppressive atmosphere.

His gaze involuntarily fell on one of the girls in the brothel, who was looking at him with genuine interest. But, noticing his gaze, she immediately looked away, pretending that he did not exist. Sirion felt a chill run down his spine. He was clearly superfluous in this place.

Along the way, they passed a large building that simply could not fail to attract attention. It was a huge, bulky structure, from which thick clouds of green smog and acrid smoke burst out. The stench was so strong that it was difficult to breathe, and it seemed as if the air itself was saturated with chemicals, absorbed into every cell of the skin.

"This is the Chem-tech plant..." thought Sirion, his thoughts sharpening sharply when he realized that he had arrived in Zaun, apparently even before the events of the first series. Or at least before the end of the first act, when this place was at the peak of its degradation. Everything around testified to this - dirty streets, poverty, constant smog, and most importantly - the mass production of chemicals, which greatly affected the city.

"So, if these substances are actively produced here now, then... There is no Shimmer yet," he continued to think. "Singed and Silko haven't managed to bring the new analogue of the chemical drug to the masses yet, which means that I am now exactly until the end of the first act on the timeline."

Sirion glanced at the plant, barely visible through the green curtain of toxic smoke. He was aware of some of the events in the world of "Arcane", but he didn't know the exact moments when they happened very well. Right now, he needed to focus. Running somewhere further was pointless, he couldn't afford unnecessary mistakes in this dangerous reality.

At last they brought him inside the factory. It was hot and stuffy inside, the air filled with chemical fumes, mixed with the unpleasant smell of burning metal and processed products. The factory was seething with life, but not with life in the usual sense. It was a place where there was no joy, not even a hint of hope. Withered children, old and young, ran everywhere, their eyes dull, their bodies withered from work and poverty. They did not dare even look up when passing Sirion and his guides, and just like the adults, they moved with difficulty through this hellish space, afraid of attracting unnecessary attention to themselves.

"Child labor," Sirion thought, trying to fence himself off from the terrible reality. In this terrible environment, children, not even reaching adolescence, were already working hard in the factory, where their lives were worth less than the tedious process they performed. Many of them did not know any other existence. For them, it was the only option to survive.

He was led up the stairs to the upper levels of the plant, where it was not so hot and the ventilation allowed him to breathe more easily. "Wait, we need to notify the boss", - said a thin guy, knocking on the door in front of which they stopped.

The guy opened the door and gestured for Sirion to enter. He stepped inside, looking around the office. The spacious room was furnished modestly, but it felt like power and control. The walls were covered with metal panels, and the air was significantly cleaner than below, thanks to improved ventilation. Behind a massive work desk sat a man, at first glance quite young, but with an expression on his face that spoke of many years of experience in management.

He was of medium height, with neatly trimmed red hair, slightly joining at the temples. His face was sharp and stern, with a predatory look, as if he was always assessing the situation, as if his every word and action was important. He sat, slightly leaning forward, studying the papers on the table, not paying attention to those entering. Only when the door closed behind Sirion did he look up.

"Come in," he said in a calm but firm voice. His eyes remained cold, but you could see the interest in them. There was no unnecessary fuss or excitement in his posture, everything was under control.

It was Finn, one of the main leaders of the Zaun crime gangs, who had been briefly shown in the series. Sirion's heart skipped a beat once again

Sirion felt his heart clench painfully. This man was one of the most influential people in the Zaun crime hierarchy, and now he was standing in front of him. Finn was the one behind many dirty deeds in this city, and now, it seemed, behind its fate.

Sirion tried not to show his excitement, but his mind was quickly running through all the possible scenarios of how his "acquaintance" with this man could develop. He looked at his reserved posture and cold gaze, trying to figure out what he wanted from him.

Finn continued to sit, taking his time with his reaction. His gaze was tenacious, sliding over Sirion, as if checking what kind of person this young man might be,