Arcane: the Monster of Zaun

The dim glow of Zaun's chemical lights offered little solace to the group as they combed the streets in search of Derek. The smell of smoke and rust filled the air, and the distant hum of machinery echoed around them. Vi led the way, her jaw set in determination, though worry flickered in her eyes.

"This is pointless," Mylo grumbled, kicking a loose pipe that clattered noisily. "He's fast. Way faster than we are."

"That doesn't mean we give up," Vi snapped, glaring at him. "We owe it to him to keep looking."

Powder stayed unusually quiet, her eyes darting nervously to every shadow. Claggor was the one to break the silence.

"Do you think... do you think he's okay?" he asked cautiously.

Vi hesitated before answering. "I don't know. But whatever's going on, he's not doing this on purpose. We just have to find him before—"

"Before what?" Mylo interrupted, folding his arms. "Before he... hurts someone?"

Powder shot him a glare, her voice trembling. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. He's still Derek."

Before the argument could escalate, a deep, familiar voice cut through the air. "And what the hell do you kids think you're doing?"

The group turned to see Vander striding toward them, his face a mix of anger and concern.

"We're looking for Derek," Vi said, her voice defiant.

"At this hour? In this state?" Vander growled, gesturing to their disheveled appearances. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here? Whatever's going on with Derek, you're not gonna fix it by running blind through Zaun."

"But—" Powder began, but Vander raised a hand to cut her off.

"I said enough," he said firmly. "We'll figure this out together, but you're all going back to the Last Drop. Now."

The group exchanged reluctant glances before nodding. They followed Vander back, their hearts heavy with worry for their friend.

The Last Drop was quieter than usual, the morning light filtering in through its grimy windows. The group sat around one of the tables, their faces drawn and somber. Powder fidgeted with a gear she'd pulled from her pouch, her knees bouncing nervously. Vi leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, her brows furrowed in thought. Mylo and Claggor sat nearby, uncharacteristically subdued.

The heavy thud of boots on wood signaled Vander's arrival. He strode over, his towering presence commanding attention, though his expression betrayed his concern.

"Alright," he said, leaning his weight on the back of a chair and glancing around at the group. "Start talking. What's going on, and where's Derek?"

The silence stretched for a moment, everyone exchanging uneasy looks. Finally, Vi spoke up, her voice steady but laced with worry.

"We don't know exactly," she admitted. "But... something's happening to him, Vander. Something bad."

Vander's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean 'something'? Be clear with me, Vi."

Mylo, sitting slouched in his chair, sighed, and gestured vaguely. "He's been acting... weird. Like, weird. Ever since that night we dared him to get the stupid plant."

Powder's head snapped up at that, and she glared at Mylo. "It wasn't stupid!"

Vander raised a hand to silence them. "Focus. What kind of weird are we talking about?"

Vi hesitated, glancing at the others for support before continuing. "It started small—him zoning out, being distracted. Then we noticed the physical stuff. His eyes... they've been golden lately. And his strength. He's way stronger than he used to be."

"His appetite, too," Claggor added. "He's been eating like three times what he normally does. And his mood... he's been snapping at us, which isn't like him at all."

Vander frowned, his hand tightening on the chair. "You're telling me all this started after that night?"

Powder nodded hesitantly. "I saw him yesterday," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "He was... changing. His hands—they didn't look normal. And his face—" She broke off, swallowing hard.

"What did his face look like, Powder?" Vander asked, his tone soft but insistent.

"Like... like an animal," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over everyone. Vander rubbed a hand over his face, his expression a mixture of sadness and guilt.

"I should've noticed," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. "I should've seen the signs."

"It's not your fault, Vander," Vi said firmly. "None of us knew what was going on."

"Maybe not," Vander replied, his voice heavy. "But it's my job to protect all of you, and that includes Derek. If he's dealing with something this big, I should've been there for him."

"We can still help him," Powder said, her voice determined despite the tears on her cheeks. "We have to."

Vander nodded, his gaze hardening. "You're right. We'll figure this out, and we'll bring him home. But from now on, no one goes off alone. Understood?"

The group nodded, their resolve renewed. Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, they were united in their determination to help their friend.

The Last Drop had quieted down for the night. After ensuring the kids were all tucked away and finally resting in the back rooms, Vander stood in the dim light of the bar, his mind restless. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. Derek was out there—alone, scared, and possibly in danger.

He couldn't just sit back and wait.

Steeling himself, Vander grabbed his coat from the chair and stepped into the cool Zaunite night. The oppressive glow of chem-lamps illuminated the narrow streets, and the distant hum of machinery buzzed faintly in the air. He headed toward a group of his regulars—tough men and women who worked security for him, people he trusted.

"Listen up," Vander said, his voice low but firm as he approached them. They straightened at the sight of him, sensing the urgency in his tone.

"We've got a situation," he continued, his gaze sweeping over them. "Derek's missing. You all know the kid—short, black hair, bit of a smart mouth. He hasn't come home, and I need eyes out there looking for him."

One of the men, a tall, wiry Zaunite with a patch over one eye, nodded. "Got it, boss. Where do you want us to start?"

"Anywhere he might've gone to hide," Vander replied. "Old workshops, abandoned buildings, the alleyways. He's not himself right now, so he might not come running if you call out for him. But if you find him—" Vander paused, his jaw tightening. "If you find him, you bring him back. Carefully. No rough stuff, you hear me?"

The group exchanged glances, then nodded in unison.

"Got it, Vander," one of the women said, her voice steady. "We'll keep an eye out. If he's out there, we'll find him."

"Good," Vander said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "And don't spook him if you can help it. The kid's going through something. If he bolts, let him go—I don't want anyone chasing him into something dangerous."

As they dispersed into the shadows, Vander lingered for a moment, staring out into the empty street.

"Damn it, Derek," he muttered under his breath, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "Where are you, kid?"

With a deep breath, he turned and headed back inside. All he could do now was hope his men would find Derek before anything—or anyone—else did.

The first rays of sunlight filtered into the small cave where Derek lay curled up on the cold stone floor. His body was still, his breathing deep, but the sight was anything but peaceful. His hands and arms were caked in dark, dried blood, and his shredded pants hung loosely on his frame.

As the light touched his face, Derek stirred, his golden eyes flickering open. For a moment, he didn't move, his mind groggy and disoriented. But then he caught the metallic scent of blood, and his body stiffened.

He sat up quickly, his heart pounding as he took in the sight of his bloodied hands. Panic set in, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"What did I do?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "What... who—?"

His eyes darted around the cave, searching for answers. The blood on his body felt overwhelming, suffocating, and he clawed at his chest as if trying to scrape it off.

Then he saw it.

A few feet away lay the mangled body of a large animal, its mutated form almost unrecognizable. It had two heads, twisted, and deformed, with patches of its skin charred and raw. Derek froze, staring at it in horror.

The realization dawned slowly. The blood wasn't human. He hadn't hurt anyone—at least, not anyone innocent. His breathing slowed, and his body sagged in relief.

He pressed his bloodied hands to his face, shaking. "Just an animal," he murmured. "Just an animal."

The panic ebbed, replaced by exhaustion. After a few moments, he stood, his legs unsteady, and staggered out of the cave. The sun was climbing higher now, casting a weak light over Zaun's grimy streets. Derek didn't know how long he'd been running, but his legs carried him instinctively toward home.

As Derek trudged through the winding streets, the people of Zaun gave him strange looks. Some whispered to each other, their eyes lingering on the blood smeared across his chest and arms. Others simply stared, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity.

Derek ignored them, his head low and his shoulders hunched. His body ached, and his mind was a jumble of fragmented memories and emotions.

"Just get home," he muttered to himself. "Just get to the Last Drop."

He was more than halfway there when he turned a corner and froze.

Vi and Powder stood a few feet away, their faces pale and filled with shock. Powder was the first to react, rushing forward with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Derek!" she cried.

Derek stumbled back, his legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees, his hands trembling.

"Stay back," he said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face. "I... I don't know what I did. I don't know what's happening to me."

Powder knelt beside him, placing a hand on his arm despite the blood. "It's okay," she said softly. "You're okay."

Vi joined them, her expression unreadable. She crouched down, her voice firm but gentle. "Come on, Derek. Let's get you home."

"I'm sorry," Derek choked out, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Powder said, her own tears falling now. "You didn't do anything wrong. We'll figure this out. Together."

Derek nodded weakly, his body trembling as the weight of the night's events finally hit him. Vi and Powder each took one of his arms, helping him to his feet.

The three of them walked back to the Last Drop in silence, Derek leaning heavily on his friends. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope—a fragile but real belief that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to face this alone.

The door to the Last Drop creaked open, drawing the attention of everyone inside. Powder and Vi entered first, supporting Derek between them. He was shirtless, his body streaked with blood and grime, his expression hollow. His shoulders sagged, and his head hung low, his golden eyes dulled with exhaustion.

Claggor and Mylo, who had been sitting near the bar, shot up the moment they saw the trio.

"Derek!" Claggor exclaimed, rushing over. "What the hell happened to him?"

Mylo's usual smirk was replaced with unease. "What's with all the blood?"

Before the girls could answer, Vander emerged from the back, his towering figure immediately drawing attention. His eyes widened when he saw Derek, taking in the boy's disheveled state, the dried blood covering his skin, and the defeated slump in his posture.

"Damn it, kid," Vander muttered, striding over. "What happened to you?"

"Vander," Vi said urgently, her voice tinged with worry. "He hasn't said a word since we found him. I... I don't know what's wrong, but something's not right."

Powder nodded, her lower lip trembling. "We tried asking, but he just... he just stays quiet."

Vander placed a heavy, reassuring hand on Vi's shoulder. "You did good bringing him back." Then, turning to Derek, his voice softened. "C'mon, kid. Let's get you cleaned up."

Vander gently guided Derek toward the back rooms, pausing to glance back at the rest of the group. "Stay put. I'll take care of him."

The kids exchanged worried glances as Vander disappeared into the hallway with Derek.

Once the door swung shut, Powder tugged on Vi's sleeve. "We have to do something," she whispered.

Vi frowned. "What do you mean? Vander's handling it."

"I know," Powder said, her voice trembling but determined. "But... Derek's hurting. I can see it. We should do something to help him."

Claggor crossed his arms, nodding slowly. "She's right. He's had a rough night. Maybe we can do something to cheer him up."

"Like what?" Mylo asked, raising an eyebrow. "We can't exactly fix... whatever this is."

Powder's eyes lit up with an idea. "We can make him breakfast!"

Vi groaned. "Powder, this isn't the time—"

"No, wait," Claggor interrupted. "That's... not a bad idea. Something normal, you know? It might help."

Mylo sighed, throwing up his hands. "Fine. But if the kitchen catches fire, it's on you guys."

The group quickly got to work, gathering what little food they could find in the cluttered kitchen. Powder took charge of the eggs (despite some shells making their way into the pan), Claggor handled the toast, and Vi took on the task of frying up some sausages. Mylo grumbled but eventually started slicing fruit.

Meanwhile, Vander led Derek to the small washroom in the back. He filled a basin with warm water, grabbed a rag, and gestured for Derek to sit on a nearby stool.

Derek obeyed silently, his movements stiff and mechanical. Vander knelt beside him and began cleaning the blood from his arms and chest.

"This isn't your blood," Vander said quietly, more of an observation than a question.

Derek's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Vander worked in silence for a moment before speaking again. "You've been through hell tonight. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this, kid."

Derek's shoulders trembled slightly, but he still didn't speak. Vander sighed, setting the rag aside.

Once Derek was cleaned up, Vander led him to one of the small rooms upstairs. He helped him sit on the bed, then pulled a chair over to sit across from him.

"Talk to me, Derek," Vander said gently. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

For a moment, it seemed like Derek would stay silent forever. But then, his body shuddered, and a choked sob escaped his lips.

"I... I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Vander leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "You're not a monster, kid. Whatever's going on, it doesn't define who you are."

Derek shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. "You don't get it! I... I killed something out there! I woke up covered in blood, and I thought—" His voice broke as he buried his face in his hands.

Vander placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You thought it was someone."

Derek nodded, his whole-body trembling. "But it wasn't. It was some... animal. I don't even remember doing it. I just... I just remember wanting to run. To get away from all of you before I hurt someone I care about."

Vander tightened his grip on Derek's shoulder, his voice firm but kind. "Listen to me. Whatever's happening to you, it doesn't change the fact that you're family. And family doesn't give up on each other. You hear me?"

Derek sniffled, wiping at his eyes. "What if I hurt you? Or Powder? Or anyone else?"

Vander leaned closer, looking him straight in the eye. "Then we'll figure out how to stop it. Together. You're not alone in this, Derek. You've got me. You've got the others. And we're not going anywhere."

Derek's tears flowed freely again, but this time, there was a flicker of relief in his expression.

After ten minutes of Derek sobbing in Vander's arms, the two of them made their way back downstairs. The smell of food wafted through the air, and the kids were huddled around the table, proudly displaying their creation.

"We, uh, made you breakfast," Vi said awkwardly, gesturing to the slightly charred but well-intentioned spread.

Derek's eyes welled up again, but this time, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice hoarse but grateful.

Powder beamed, pulling out a chair for him. "C'mon! Eat up before Mylo gets to it."

"Hey!" Mylo protested, but his grin gave him away.

As Derek sat down, surrounded by the people who cared about him, a flicker of hope began to spark in his chest. For the first time in days, he didn't feel completely alone.