Arcane: I have Plasmids F*** YEAAAAAAH!!!

If there was one thing Lukas hadn't expected on his way to The Last Drop, it was this—

Zaun actually had nice places.

Okay, maybe "nice" was a strong word.

But compared to the rotting filth and sewage-covered back alleys he usually walked through?

This part of the Undercity?

It was practically luxury.

The streets here were more stable, less covered in trash.

People actually looked like they were living, not just surviving.

And the air?

Well.

It still smelled like oil, rust, and chemicals.

But hey, progress.

"Guess Vander's influence actually counts for something."

The thought lingered in his mind as he walked, his makeshift cardboard box full of goods tucked under his arm.

He wasn't just going to The Last Drop to see the bar.

He was going to sell.

To make his first real deal.

His first step toward something bigger.

But then—

Chaos.

---

A loud commotion erupted in the street ahead.

People were yelling, jumping out of the way.

And then—

The weirdest fucking thing Lukas had ever seen in his life came speeding down the lane.

It looked like a motorcycle inside a giant wheel.

A single large tire, with a smaller seat built into the center, moving like a mechanical death trap.

"What in the actual fuck—"

And riding on top?

Two familiar dumbasses.

Ekko was driving like a maniac, gripping the controls as the strange contraption wobbled left and right.

Powder was clinging onto the back, cackling like a gremlin, while a small group of enforcers chased them from behind.

And just to really cement how stupid this situation was—

Ekko flipped them the middle finger as he sped away.

Lukas just stared.

What the fuck was he looking at?

As they zoomed past him, Powder caught sight of him and immediately lit up.

"HEY, IT'S MR. NUDES!"

Lukas's soul left his body.

He felt the entire crowd's eyes shift toward him.

Powder, completely oblivious to the war crime she had just committed against his dignity, waved excitedly.

"BYE, MR. NUDES!"

And then they were gone.

Vanishing into the depths of Zaun.

Lukas just stood there.

Silent.

Processing.

The people around him were still staring.

Some looked amused.

Others looked concerned.

A few just looked disappointed.

Lukas inhaled.

Lukas exhaled.

And very slowly—

He dragged a hand down his face.

"I swear to God, Powder. One day, I will have my revenge."

And with that, he kept walking.

Trying very hard to ignore the fact that he had just been publicly branded as 'Mister Nudes' by a screaming 12-year-old.

Fucking kill me.

---

By the time Lukas arrived at The Last Drop, the place was lively as hell.

People were drinking, laughing, playing cards.

The air was thick with smoke, alcohol, and the raw energy of people trying to forget their shitty day.

"Perfect place to do business."

He stepped inside, gripping his cardboard box a little tighter.

People glanced at him as he walked past, probably wondering what a kid was doing carrying a random-ass box into a bar.

But whatever.

He wasn't here to make friends.

He was here to make money.

As he approached the bar, he finally got a good look at the man running the place.

And holy shit, he was big.

Vander was an absolute unit.

Broad shoulders, a grizzled face, and an aura of calm authority that made it clear he was the kind of guy you didn't fuck with, The Hound of the undercity.

At the moment, he was pouring drinks, but the second he noticed Lukas approaching, he raised an eyebrow.

Lukas set his box on the counter, clearing his throat.

Vander glanced at the box.

Then at Lukas.

Then back at the box.

Then—

"Kid, aren't you a little young to be in a bar?"

Lukas snorted.

"Not here to drink." He gestured to the box. "I'm here to do business."

Vander looked amused.

"Oh yeah?" He leaned on the counter. "Sorry kid, if you're looking for selling scraps, my friend Benzo's shop is down the road."

Lukas grinned.

"Not Scraps, Something better."

He reached into the box—

And pulled out a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes.

Vander's brows shot up.

Immediately, he grabbed the bottle, examining the label.

It was in a language he didn't recognize.

The liquid inside?

Clear.

Too clear.

Like water.

He frowned. "What is this?"

"Vodka."

Vander blinked.

"…The Fuck's vodka?"

Lukas grinned.

"Try it."

---

Vander was skeptical as hell, but eventually, he poured himself a small shot and took a sip.

And immediately—

"Damn."

His face twisted as the strong liquor burned down his throat.

But then—

The smoothness hit.

It was strong, but good.

Real good.

Vander set the glass down, exhaling.

"Alright, I'll admit—that's some strong stuff."

Then he grabbed the cigarettes, inspecting the packaging.

It was sleek, high-quality, unlike anything he'd seen in Zaun.

"Where'd you get these?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lukas smirked.

"Trade secret."

Vander scoffed.

"Kid, if you stole these from Topside—"

"I didn't."

Vander studied him.

Lukas held his ground.

He looked at Lukas again, properly this time.

Young. Thin. Life clearly hadn't been kind to him.

But his eyes?

Sharp. Focused.

This wasn't just some random kid trying to make a quick buck.

Vander exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Vander let out a small chuckle.

"Alright, alright. I'll Believe you."

Vander huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

"Okay then, smart guy. If you're gonna be doing business here, I should at least know your name."

Lukas paused.

His name.

He already knew the kid whose body he was in was also named Lukas.

But names had power.

And if he was gonna make something of himself, he needed a strong name.

A name that meant something.

A name that stood out.

He thought for a moment.

Then—

A smirk.

"Fontaine." He straightened up. "Lukas Fontaine."

Vander blinked.

Then scoffed.

"Fontaine, huh?" He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached out a massive hand.

"Alright then, Fontaine. Welcome to The Last Drop."

Lukas shook it, grinning.

He had a name now.As Lukas turned to leave, Vander suddenly paused.

"One more thing, Fontaine."

Lukas stopped.

"Your Parents, Do I know them?"

His body tensed.

Vander noticed.

And, to his credit—

He didn't press.

"…Never mind," Vander muttered. "You just reminded me of somenone."

Lukas nodded, heading for the door.

But before stepping out—

He hesitated.

And then, quietly—

"Merlinda and Alonzo."

Vander froze.

Lukas didn't turn around.

"Those were their names."

And then he left.

Vander watched him go, his chest heavy.

Alonzo's kid.

One more child, orphaned because of him.

Vander sighed.

Poured himself a drink.

And drank.