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

The Last drop was silent.

Lukas sat up, running a hand through his hair.

His body was exhausted. His muscles ached from the past few days—running around the city, digging through scrapyards, building something that shouldn't even be possible in this world.

But his mind wouldn't stop.

Because every time he closed his eyes—

He saw two lives.

---

In one life, he was Lukas Fontaine.

Born and raised in Zaun. Orphaned at the age of ten. Barely survived on the streets. Grew up knowing hunger, fear, and the harsh reality of what it meant to be born on the wrong side of the bridge.

A child who had to learn early that the world didn't care about him. That no one was coming to save him.

The Lukas who hated Piltover with every fiber of his being.

The Lukas who had spent fourteen years watching people suffer, watching them fight and bleed for a future that never came.

The Lukas who had accepted that this was just how life was.

---

And then…

There was the other Lukas.

A kid from another world. A world with cell phones, airplanes, fast food, and fucking anime. A world where Zaun and Piltover weren't real—just fiction, just a story someone made for people to watch and be entertained.

A kid who had seen the future, not through suffering, but through a screen.

A kid who had seen the tragedy of Powder becoming Jinx.

Who had cheered at Ekko fighting Jinx on the bridge.

Who had seen Vi lost everything that one night.

It had all been just a story.

Until he woke up inside it.

Until he realized that these weren't characters.

They were people.

Real, breathing, living people.

And suddenly, everything felt so much heavier.

---

Lukas leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

He took a shaky breath.

He wasn't that kid from another world anymore.

And he wasn't just the street rat of Zaun, either.

He was both.

Two lives, two perspectives, two sets of memories—fused into something new.

And the weight of that truth was crushing.

Because he knew what was coming.

He knew this world was only a few steps away from breaking.

And he refused to let it happen.

Not this time.

Not to them.

---

Lukas exhaled, shaking his head.

He needed to get out of his own head.

Maybe a drink would help.

He stood up quietly, stepping over the others as they slept, and made his way up the stairs.

But as he reached the top—

He realized he wasn't the only one awake.

A broad-shouldered man sat at the bar, pipe in hand, staring at nothing.

Vander.

Lukas exhaled.

"…Vander."

The man didn't turn. Didn't need to.

"I was wonderin' when you'd come up here, kid."

Lukas stepped forward.

"…We need to talk."

Lukas stepped forward, taking a seat at the bar.

Vander didn't move at first. He just exhaled slowly, letting the smoke from his pipe drift lazily into the air.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Just two tired souls, sitting in the dark, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Vander broke the silence.

"Can't sleep?"

Lukas let out a dry chuckle. "What gave it away?"

Vander smirked slightly. "The look on your face."

Lukas scoffed, shaking his head. "That obvious, huh?"

Vander took another slow drag from his pipe, studying the boy in front of him.

"Somethin' tells me you got a lot on your mind."

Lukas exhaled, leaning on the counter.

"…Yeah. Too much."

---

Silence settled again.

But it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was the kind of silence that existed between people who understood each other.

The kind where words weren't necessary—just presence.

Then, finally, Lukas spoke.

"Vander."

The older man hummed in acknowledgment.

Lukas turned to face him fully, his voice quieter this time.

"Do you think the Undercity… do you think Zaun can change?"

---

Vander went still.

The question hung in the air.

For a long moment, he didn't answer.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

"I used to."

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "And now?"

Vander took a long, slow drag from his pipe.

"Now? I just want these kids to have a chance to live."

Lukas frowned. "That's it?"

Vander glanced at him. "Ain't that enough?"

Lukas clenched his fists.

"No."

---

Lukas gritted his teeth.

"You think this is enough? That scraping by, day after day, waiting for the next disaster to hit, is a life?" He scoffed. "Fuck that."

Vander didn't flinch.

Lukas clenched his fists.

"You think I don't get it? That I don't understand how hard it is down here? I know what this place does to people. I know what happens when you don't have a way out."

His chest rose and fell, his breath uneven.

He was right here—standing in the present, knowing the future—and he couldn't say anything.

He couldn't tell Vander what was coming.

Couldn't tell him, about what would happen to Powder, to Ekko, the gang...

To Vander himself.

It made him want to scream.

---

Vander studied him carefully.

Lukas wasn't just angry.

This wasn't the naive anger of a kid who didn't understand how the world worked.

This was something else.

His hands curled into fists.

"Things can't go on like this."

Vander's gaze sharpened.

There it was again.

That way Lukas talked—like he knew something Vander didn't.

Like he had already seen their futures written in blood.

---

"You got a plan..." Vander finally admitted.

Lukas took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

He turned to face Vander fully.

"I need money."

Vander's gaze turned serious. "You are not going to those criminals."

Lukas shook his head. "Not like that. No gangs. No blood money. Business."

That got Vander's attention.

Lukas leaned forward.

"The telegraph. It's ours. We made it. We can patent it."

Vander frowned. "Patent?"

Lukas exhaled. "Think of it like… claiming an invention. Making it official. If we do that, we control it. We can sell the rights, get deals, real money. No gangs. No bullshit."

Vander scratched his chin.

"And you're sure this works?"

Lukas's eyes burned.

"It has to."

Vander studied him again.

Lukas's expression wasn't hopeful.

It wasn't dreaming.

It was determined.

This wasn't some kid wishing for a better tomorrow.

This was a man willing to tear reality apart to make it happen.

Vander sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Kid… you know we don't got a system for that."

Lukas expected that.

"And Piltover?"

Vander sighed.

"If you want that kind of deal… you gotta go topside."

Of course.

Of course, Piltover held all the keys.

This was how it always was.

Zaunites fought to create something new—only for Piltover to decide if they were allowed to have it.

The system wasn't made for them.

It was made to keep them in their place.

Lukas clenched his jaw.

Vander exhaled.

"You wanna make this real, kid?" He looked Lukas in the eye. "Then we gotta play their game."

Lukas scoffed. "You mean beg at their feet?"

Vander shook his head. "No. You go in looking like someone they gotta take seriously."

He leaned back.

"Be awake early. We're getting you somethin' to wear."

Lukas frowned. "Wait. What?"

"You wanna be taken seriously up there?" Vander exhaled. "Then you gotta look the part."

A smirk tugged at the old man's lips.

"Tomorrow, we make you look like you belong."