Sirion spent some more time in the company of the boys, gradually getting used to their noisy conversations and the atmosphere. Powder patiently continued to teach him how to shoot, commenting on each of his attempts. Sometimes she teased him for misses, but she did it so innocently and cheerfully that he only smiled in response.
"See, already better!" she praised when he hit the target three times in a row. "Maybe soon you'll shoot better than Mylo!"
"Ha, don't make me laugh," Mylo snorted, lazily lying on the couch. "This guy will never reach my heights."
"Well, we'll see," Sirion answered, playfully winking at Powder.
Another hour passed. Sirion felt that fatigue was starting to creep up on him. Tomorrow was a new mission, and it was clear that if he didn't leave now, he would have a hard time getting up in the morning. He placed the gun on the counter and turned to the others.
"Okay, guys, I have to go," he said, stretching.
"Already?" Powder asked, clearly disappointed.
"Yeah, I need to be in shape tomorrow. Thanks for the lessons, you're a great teacher," he said with a warm smile.
"Oh, I know," she answered proudly, but her gaze still became a little sad. "Well, come again if you want to practice."
"Sure," he nodded, getting up from his seat.
Vi looked at him with a slight smirk.
"See you later, gunslinger. Try not to get lost on the way.
"Thanks for your concern," he replied, unable to resist the sarcasm.
Before leaving, Sirion was once again reminded that he was now almost a part of their company. Vi stopped him at the exit and, crossing her arms over her chest, said:
"Listen, if you ever get bored or just want to do something, we're usually here. Either here or with Ekko. So come by when you have time."
"Yeah, drop by!" Claggor added with a smile. "Especially if you want to shoot some more."
"And I'll show you how to shoot properly!" Powder interjected, running closer, as if she was afraid that he would forget her lessons.
"Well, unless Powder forgets herself," Mylo chuckled, receiving a displeased look from the girl in response.
"Thank you, I'll remember," Sirion replied, feeling a slight warmth from such an invitation.
He was actually pleased that they accepted him so quickly. Despite their disagreements and constant teasing, there was something real in their company that Sirion hadn't felt for a long time.
He waved goodbye to each of them before finally stepping outside. Powder was the last to wave from her hiding place behind him, her face still smiling.
"See you later, Sirion!"
"See you later," he said, waving back.
The door closed behind him, leaving behind the cozy place they called their own.
Sirion left their hiding place and headed home, trying not to think about how this evening had changed him. They were a loud but surprisingly close group, and he was beginning to understand more and more why Vi was so protective of her friends.
The neon lights still echoed in his mind as he walked through the empty alleys of Zaun. Meeting the boys had left a warm feeling in his soul, but deep down Sirion felt uneasy. He was starting to get attached to them. Which meant that in the future, it would be much harder for him to let them go if he had to.
Sirion headed for the elevator to return to his level. The bustle of a typical evening in Zaun's merchant district was all around him: the shouts of merchants, the scuffling of people around the corner, and the neon signs blinking feebly in an attempt to attract the attention of passersby.
As he approached the elevator, he noticed a group of young men who were clearly expecting the same thing. They were dressed in worn sleeveless jackets, soaked in dirt and sweat, and looked as if they had just returned from work or a fight. One of them had a massive chain hanging around his neck, and his arms were covered in badly healed scars. They stood talking among themselves in half-whispers, but from time to time they cast sideways glances at Sirion.
Sirion remained at a distance, trying not to attract attention to himself. He supposed it was better not to stand out in such places. Meanwhile, the elevator, old and rusty, finally hummed, rising to their level.
One of the guys sneezed loudly, brushing dust off his shoulder, and turning to Sirion, chuckled:
"Why are you standing there like a post? Are you going down too?"
"I'm going," Sirion answered shortly, maintaining a calm tone.
"Well, look," the other one drawled, looking him up and down with a grin.
The elevator clanked to a stop, and the doors opened, revealing a musty metal interior with a barely working light bulb. The guys entered first, laughing at some joke of theirs. Sirion followed, trying to stay closer to the corner, away from their group.
The elevator jerked and began to descend. The atmosphere in the cabin was tense: in the cramped space, the smell of metal and sweat became unbearable, and the guys' laughter sounded somehow too loud and nervous. Sirion looked at his boots, hoping the ride would be over as quickly as possible.
The elevator continued its creaking descent, and the boys' conversation suddenly caught Sirion's attention. He glanced at them, trying to remain unnoticed.
"Have you heard the latest rumors?" asked one of the guys, tall and thin, turning to his companion, who looked more squat and sturdy.
"What kind of rumors?" he snorted, pretending not to care.
"It's been unsettled lately," the thin guy began, lowering his voice, but not so much that Sirion couldn't hear. "The arms traffic between the crime lords has increased significantly. I don't like it."
"Oh, come on," his interlocutor waved him off, snapping his fingers loudly. "This is Zaun, they always do dirty deeds here."
"Not in such quantities," the first one said with emphasis. "I'm telling you, something is brewing. Did you see them at the docks a couple of days ago? They were unloading a whole truckload of boxes. Metal, armored, as if they were hiding treasures there. And the people around... these types, you know, are not to be trifled with.
Sirion tensed. The words about weapons trafficking made him think of the series and how Zaun was always at the epicenter of dark schemes. He glanced at the guys who were continuing their conversation.
"Oh, come on," the second one waved it off again, clearly not taking it seriously. "Someone is just getting ready for a showdown. A common thing."
"Exactly. A common thing for those who are not afraid of having their heads blown off for nothing. Are you sure you want to be in the center of this "common thing"?
The guys talked for a while, and Sirion, not wanting to show his interest, looked away, staring at the floor again. However, mosaics of possible events were already beginning to form in his head. Weapons trafficking, crime lords... This could very well be the beginning of something big and dangerous.
Sirion thought about it, glancing at the boys who were still discussing their own things, but in a quieter tone. He could feel the thoughts of Zaun's past clinging to one another, forming a vague picture. He didn't really know what had happened here before the canon.
Perhaps there had been some major gang war that Vander had calmed down? It made sense. Zaun had always been torn apart by internal conflicts. If anyone could end the chaos, it was Vander. Perhaps his actions had made him a hero in the eyes of the townspeople, given him power and respect. But then, wars were not easily erased from memory. That could explain why his credibility was gradually waning - not everyone was willing to forgive his sacrifices and methods, even for the sake of peace.
Or perhaps there had been another attempt at revolution? Another attempt to break the shackles of Piltover, led by those who believed in the freedom of Zaun. And again, Vander… only instead of supporting the revolutionaries, he could be the one to stop her. If that was true, it would make sense: why so many in canon had so much disappointment and resentment towards him.
Sirion chuckled. History was like a series of failed attempts to change something. As if Zaun was always on the edge of a knife, balancing between freedom and self-destruction.
He looked down, where the lights and smoke of the lower level flickered between the rusted bars of the elevator floor. Whatever had happened before, it had certainly left a deep mark. Perhaps he would learn more about the past of this place. Or perhaps he himself would become part of new events.
The elevator creaked to a stop at the next floor, and the boys, not paying much attention to Sirion, walked out, continuing their conversations. Their voices quickly disappeared into the hum of the elevator as it began to descend again. Sirion was left alone, absorbed in his own thoughts, his gaze continuing to wander along the rusted walls of the cabin. He thought about what he had heard.
What if something new was happening, something that had never happened in the series? Perhaps some events were unfolding differently because of his presence here. He tried to find an answer to this question in his head, but the more he thought about it, the more vague his thoughts became. What were the chances that his presence could change the course of events? Very minimal, in his opinion. He was not so significant that his mere presence could affect something large-scale.
But it is worth remembering that even a small variable in a huge equation can change everything. One wrong move, one phrase, one action, and everything becomes different. And although Sirion doubted his influence, he could not help but notice how each of his decisions could entail consequences.
As the elevator continued to move downward, Sirion realized that he did not really understand how much he could influence the events happening in this world. Of course, there was still a possibility that at some point everything would return to its place, as it was before he appeared. But perhaps something in this reality has already begun to change. And most importantly, he has to figure out which way it will all go.