Chapter Text
Silco's plan was a flaming heap of shit. Worse, it was going to get them all killed.
Sevika fished in her leather jacket for her silver cigarette case, mind churning over the emergency meeting that had just ended. Silco had decided, on a whim, to use the opportunity provided by Grayson to abduct Vander, in an idiotic plot to—what? Convince Vander to join them and, failing that, inject him with Shimmer and hurl him at Piltover's council? It was desperate at best, and pathetically stupid at worst.
It was far too early to show their hand. They didn't have nearly enough weapons or members willing to fight, and Shimmer was still too volatile to use reliably. Silco was risking throwing all their years of hard work away for a last-ditch attempt at wooing his ex-boyfriend, or whatever he and Vander had been.
They'd always claimed they were brothers, but Sevika'd walked in on them making out far too many times for that to be even remotely plausible (and, on one memorable occasion, Silco bent over a keg in the basement of the Last Drop, Vander groaning wetly and jackhammering behind him).
So no. Definitely not brothers, and everyone knew it.
It wasn't as if they were subtle. Half of Zaun had probably seen them at it by now; caught an unwanted glimpse of them fucking like rabbits in an alleyway or overheard them in the mines, their voices carrying from whatever isolated drift they had chosen as a spot to hammer into each other rather than the coal face.
(Silco was loud, and Vander liked to be called disgusting, gooey terms of endearment like "puppy" and "princess" when fucking. By her third week of working the same crew as them in the mines, Sevika—unwillingly, she might add—knew more about Silco and Vander's sex life than she did her own.)
Sevika's fingers closed around the cigarette case, thank fuck. If she didn't have a smoke in the next five minutes she'd get a migraine. Well, a migraine worse than the one she currently had, thanks to Silco and his shit-for-brains lovedumb plan to win Vander back.
If it failed, which it definitely would because it was stupid, they'd most likely get mauled by the Hound of the Underground. But worse, because he'd be hopped up on fucking Shimmer. What Vander did to Silco five years ago would look like a kitten scratch compared to the damage he'd do with chemically-induced super strength and an inflated thirst for blood.
Even if they magically didn't fail, they'd likely end up with Vander dead, which would turn the Lanes against them. And they needed the Lanes' support if they were to unite the undercity to fight for Zaun, whether Silco wanted it or not.
Sevika struck a match and lit up, inhaling until her throat burned. "The plan is shit."
She blew smoke at Ran, Deckard, and Murk, who had been watching her expectantly for the last five minutes. They knew better than to be the first to speak when in her presence. She'd trained them well.
They were sitting around a metal 40-gallon drum that had once been used to store chum and was now enjoying a second life as their impromptu conference table. Sevika propped her scuffed combat boots on the drum's rim, ankles crossed, and waited for her words to penetrate her subordinates' (she refused to think of them as coworkers) thick skulls.
"Really? I thought-"
"No one cares what you think, Deckard," Ran hissed. Murk, as usual, said nothing. It was why she liked him best.
"I'm serious. Silco's plan is shit. He's going to get us all killed." She tipped her chair back on two legs, blowing smoke at the ceiling.
Ran looked over their shoulder, as if worried Silco might suddenly appear out of nowhere like a ghost (a legitimate fear, he had a nasty tendency to lurk). They leaned forward, casting a last furtive glance before whispering conspiratorially. "I think it's a bit shit, too."
"He's lost focus," complained Sevika. "We haven't been workin' our asses off all this time for some fucked-up power trip. We're here to fight for Zaun, not fuck with Silco's exes."
"I dunno 'bout you guys, but that's kinda my whole thing," said Decker. "Just sayin'. Power trips can be fun."
"You're an idiot, you don't count," Ran sneered. "Whenever I'm about to do something, I ask myself, 'what would Deckard do?' and then I do the opposite."
"Cunt." Deckard elbowed Ran in the ribs. Ran was reaching for one of their many concealed switchblades when Murk pounded the table with his fist, causing them both to freeze guiltily.
His head turned like an owl, the rest of him dangerously still. His eyes bored into Sevika's purposefully. "Silco's exes." he asked, monotonous. At least, Sevika assumed it was a question. Murk didn't seem to believe in using intonation or vocal indicators of any kind. It was a pain, but Sevika could respect it.
"Yeah." The three stared at her blankly. She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Vander. You seriously didn't know?"
"Aren't they brothers?" asks Deckard, looking vaguely disgusted.
"This," said Ran, "is why you're an idiot." They leaned even farther forwards, elbows balanced precariously on the rim of the metal chum drum-cum-conference table. "I thought there was some history there. I sensed it." They looked inordinately proud of themself, like a cat dropping a dead mouse at its owner's feet.
"Don't need to sense it," Sevika flicked ash. "You never noticed the stiffy Silco gets whenever he goes into one of his Vander rants?" She snorted, shaking her head. "Brothers, my ass."
Deckard raised his hand. "I noticed," he said. "Just for the record."
"And you still thought they were brothers." Murk tilted his head curiously.
He pondered this for a second. "Huh," he said, looking vaguely surprised at his own ineptitude. "Yeah, I guess that would be pretty weird, huh?"
"Shut up, Deckard." Ran kicked his chair. "Tell us more," they implored, gazing at Sevika with morbid fascination.
Sevika glared at Ran for a long minute, blowing smoke out of her nostrils. Ran's eyes watered, but they managed not to cough. "Fine," she decided, and stubbed out the cigarette on the side of the drum, flicking the stub to the floor.
"It was years ago. They were practically kids, younger'n you, even. Silco was always hanging off Vander's arm, lookin' up at him all moony-eyed." She rolled her eyes. "He tried to hide it, 'course, prickly bastard that he is, but it was clearer than moonshine how in love he was. Embarrassing, really."
"Aww," Ran cooed, head coming to rest in their palms. "Widdle baby Silco in wuv."
"Don't make me cut out your tongue," Sevika warned.
Ran widened their eyes innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Sevika sighed and dug out a second cigarette. "They were so close, it was like they wore each other's skin—you know the type."
"Oh, totally," agreed Ran. "Skinned my last ex-boyfriend. Useless git when alive, but he made for a lovely pair of trousers. I even had enough left over to make a cover for my bullet journal."
Murk coughed uncomfortably. Sevika considered Ran for a moment.
"The tan ones you wore last Wednesday?"
Ran snapped their fingers. "That's the one!"
"Hm." Sevika allowed a small nod. "Not bad. Nice stitching." She cleared her throat with a slight shake of her head, bob swishing. "Anyways. Vander and Silco, joined at the crotch, yada yada. But they started to have split opinions on what they were fighting for. Vander was happy to settle with the Lanes. Silco wanted Zaun."
Sevika swiped a match, but the flimsy wood snapped between her thick fingers. Scowling, she tried again, this time managing to produce a flame. She stared into its glow, watching as it ate through the wood. "They fought. Silco went ahead with a protest against Vander's wishes, and it turned bloody. That was the Day of Ashes."
She lit the end of her cigarette just before the flame reached her fingers, then pinched it out and flicked it to the side. "Silco wanted to keep fighting. Said it was the only way to honor our murdered comrades. Vander didn't agree." She grimaced, briefly. "And that was that."
"Wow," Ran breathed, wiping at their eyes theatrically. "I think that's the most I've heard you talk in one go, Sev. You're a natural storyteller, you are."
Sevika jabbed the cigarette at Ran, dangerously close to their forehead. They didn't flinch, smirking provocatively. "This close," warned Sevika, "to cutting out your tongue."
"And what would you do with it afterwards?" Ran fluttered their eyelashes. "Keep it in a pretty box and bring it out whenever you think of me—"
Murk cleared his throat loudly. Deckard, at some point during Sevika's story, had fallen asleep and was drooling on his own shirt.
"Useless," Sevika grunted, slumping forward and pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're all fuckin' useless." She glowered at them. "You realize we're fucked, right? That Silco is gonna fuck us tomorrow?"
Deckard snorted in his sleep, jerking awake. "Silco's doin' what? Tomorrow?"
"Hush, Deckard, the big kids are talking." Ran steepled their fingers pensively. "What if," they said, "and don't yell at me—what if, instead of Silco fucking us tomorrow, he fucks Vander?"
"Yeah." Sevika looked at Ran like they were an idiot. "That's his plan. He's gonna leverage the arrest to convince him to join us, and then shoot him up with Shimmer. Or just kill him. Either way, Vander's fucked, and so are we."
"No, no." Ran waved a hand dismissively, prosthetic bladed fingers glinting in the dusty moonlight. "Like, fuck fuck. Dicks in butts or cunts or whatever parts they have. I'm talking fucking."
"I think," said Murk slowly, feeling out the words, "that is a very dangerous idea."
Sevika stared at Ran. Her cigarette was over half ash by this point, but she paid no notice. "Are you out of your fucking mind."
"No, no, just think about it," insisted Ran. "If they kiss and make up, all our Silco problems'll be fixed. Silco won't be obsessed with his personal revenge fantasy anymore. He'll only have Zaun to work towards."
"And," they added, before Sevika could interject, "Vander'll be keen to split with the Enforcers anyway, after they've gone after him and his brats. If we play it right, he'll feel so guilty about ruining Silco's life he'll do whatever he tells him to do. Trust me, I know how to work a guilty ex—"
"You threaten 'em with maiming, it's not the same thing," Deckard muttered, and was roundly ignored.
"If they get back together, Silco'll never let Vander continue working with the Enforcers or waste his time playing house in the Lanes. He'll force him off his ass and put him to work smashing in the skulls of anyone who threatens our vision of Zaun. The Hound of the Underground and the Eye of Zaun, together again—and with Shimmer on our side? We'd be unstoppable."
"And," Ran continued, "I bet Silco will be less of a prick once he's got Vander fucking the crazy outta him regularly. Think about it, Sev—no more late night calls. No more fishing him outta the Pilt when he has a bad day. He'll have Vander to torment instead of us."
"Don't call me Sev," Sevika snapped, but it was more instinct than anything else. The forgotten cigarette was almost entirely ash at this point, a few seconds away from burning her fingertips. She groaned through gritted teeth and stubbed out the remains on the conference table angrily.
"It's a shit plan," she grunted. "But it's better than Silco's. Fuck." She hung her head, letting out a long-suffering sigh.
"Oh, hells," she said, and met Ran's eyes square on. "I'm in. Let's get those two miserable old men fucking again."