Walking back toward the Last Drop, they passed street vendors selling creatures and brothels glowing with soft, pink light.
The undercity buzzed around them—people shouting prices, deals being made in alleyways, kids running barefoot between stalls.
One of the women sitting on a crate winked at Claggor.
Claggor immediately stiffened and picked up the pace, walking faster with a nervous grimace.
Behind them, Mylo finally broke the silence.
"You think they got Jonathan?" he asked. "What's even the punishment for blowing up a—"
Vi cut him off with a sharp pinch to the side.
"Ow—!" Mylo flinched. "Hey!"
"Don't talk about it," Vi muttered, eyes flicking to the people around them. "Not here."
Mylo grimaced and nodded. "Okay, okay—just stop pinching me."
Powder stayed quiet, eyes on the ground. Mylo's question echoed in her head.
If Jonathan did get caught…
The punishment wouldn't be that bad… right?
She tried to believe it—but the thought sat heavy in her chest.
No… Powder shook her head slightly, lips pressed tight.
It would be very bad.
"Alright. Stay calm and don't act suspicious," Vi's voice cut through the haze.
Powder looked up—startled to realize they were already standing in front of the Last Drop.
"You got that, Mylo?" Vi said, looking straight at him.
"Hey, why do you always feel the need to single me out?" Mylo asked, offended.
Vi didn't answer. She just pushed the door open.
They all filed in. Vi gave Vander a quick glance across the bar—then looked straight ahead, not slowing down.
No one said anything as they made their way downstairs.
⸻
They gathered around the table.
Claggor dropped into a chair, pulled off his goggles, and rubbed his eyes.
Vi sat back with a sigh, then spoke firmly.
"Vander learns none of this."
Everyone nodded.
Powder sat curled up in her seat, holding her foot, mind racing back to the rooftop.
Mylo plopped down and threw his feet up on the table. "No worries there. Powder took care of the evidence."
"I tried, okay?" Powder snapped, looking up at him. "You don't get it. You're older, you're bigger—it's not fair."
"So stick with us!" Mylo leaned forward. "Take a punch or two."
Then—
The door creaked open.
Vander looked down at them from the top of the stairs.
"Everyone all right?" he called, his voice calm—but heavy.
"Never better," Mylo said quickly, trying to sound casual.
Vander descended, each step echoing off the walls. He stopped at the bottom, gaze scanning the group.
"Good," he said—then paused.
"I don't suppose any of you can explain why I'm hearing about an explosion… and a foot chase topside?"
He took a slow step forward.
"Fivechildren fleeing the scene."
His eyes landed on Vi.
"Ekko or Jonathan?" he asked, his tone quieter now. "Who'd you take?"
Vi drew in a breath. "…Jonathan," she muttered.
Vander's expression darkened.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Vi met his eyes. "That we could handle a real job."
"A real job?" Vander echoed.
"We got our own tip. Planned a route. Nobody even saw us—"
"You blew up a building," Vander cut in, voice sharp.
"That wasn't—"
"Did you even stop to think about what could've happened to you?" he snapped, stepping closer. "To them?"
He motioned to the others around the table.
Mylo and Claggor dropped their gazes.
Vander's shoulders rose and fell with a long sigh.
"Where's Jonathan now?"
Vi hesitated.
"Uh… we don't know."
Vander's eyes narrowed.
"You don't know?"
"…We lost him during the chase," she said quietly.
The silence that followed was louder than any shouting.
"You lost him?!" Vander barked—angry, but beneath it, deeply worried. "How?"
Vi took a breath. "We were running from the enforcers. Through alleys. I broke a steam pipe to block their vision, and we escaped through a chute. I think…" She hesitated. "I think he got confused in the steam. Got turned around."
Vander's eyes bore into her.
"Do you trust him?" he asked. "Do you trust that, if he gets caught, he won't sell you out to save himself?"
Vi froze.
She looked at the others, then slowly nodded.
"He's not going to get caught."
Vander narrowed his eyes. "Where did you even get the tip?" he asked. "From Jonathan?"
Vi shook her head. "No."
"Then who?" Vander pressed.
From across the table, Powder looked up.
"…Little Man," she said quietly.
—————————
Ding.
The elevator doors creaked open, and Jonathan stepped out into the undercity.
His entire body was soaked, water dripping from his coat and hair. A soggy bag hung in one hand.
He shivered violently. "So cold," he muttered through chattering teeth.
He glanced down at the bag, still clutching it tightly.
"…But worth it."
Without another word, he started walking—wet boots squelching against the grime-slick streets—as he made his way toward the Last Drop.
—————————
At last, he reached the bar.
Jonathan exhaled hard—green mist curling from his lips, only to swirl back in as he inhaled it again.
He smiled faintly, then let out a quiet chuckle.
Placing a hand on the door, he gave it one slow, shivering push and stepped inside.
Without a word, he made a beeline for the stairs, walking quickly to avoid dripping too much water on the floor.
The soaked bag swung behind his back, one hand gripping it tightly while the other reached for the basement door.
—————————————
"You see this look on my face? This will always mean it's time to shut up."
Jonathan heard Vi's voice just as he creaked the door open.
Heads turned.
Vi and Mylo stared at him.
Dripping wet, Jonathan stood in the doorway with a blank expression.
"I'm so wet right now," he said flatly.
"Jonathan?!" Both Mylo and Vi shouted at the same time.
"Yes, that is my name," Jonathan replied as he started walking down the stairs, still holding the bag behind his back like a guilty kid.
"Did you say Jonathan?" Powder called from another room, pushing open the door and peeking in.
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him. "Jonathan!"
She rushed toward him, arms outstretched.
"Not so fast!" he barked, holding out a dripping sleeve to stop her.
Powder froze mid-step.
Jonathan coughed once, shaking off water. "I'm soaked. I'd prefer you not join me in my wetness"
He grinned a little.
"Besides…" He tightened his grip on the bag behind his back. "I have a surprise for you guys."
"You didn't get caught?" Mylo asked, eyes wide as he stood up from the couch.
"Nope," Jonathan said simply.
Vi stepped forward, visibly relieved. "What happened to you? And why are you soaking wet?"
"I got lost. Nothing special," Jonathan shrugged. "But I'm wet because…"
He pulled the bag from behind his back with a dramatic flair.
"I got the bag."
Everyone stared.
Powder's eyes went wide. "No way…"
"Huh?" Mylo blinked. "I thought Powder dropped it into the—"
He froze.
Then his mouth slowly opened in realization. "…Ohhh."
He pointed at Jonathan. "You jumped in the ocean?"
Jonathan nodded once, proud.
"I saw Powder toss it into the ocean to distract the kid chasing her," he said.
At that, Powder looked down.
"Good choice, by the way," Jonathan added gently. "Always save yourself first."
She glanced back up at him and gave a small nod.
"Once I saw her throw it, I figured—I can swim down and get it, so…."
He held up the bag again. "So that's what I did."
Vi's relief faded as her expression grew serious. "I'm sorry, Jonathan—but we have to get rid of it."
"What?" Mylo blinked, then sighed, deflating a bit. "Actually… yeah. She's right. Vander told us to lay low."
Jonathan tilted his head slightly.
Powder's chest tightened. She looked at the bag… then at Jonathan.
Her voice was small. "I'm sorry."
Jonathan turned to her.
"I made you go through all that for nothing…"
Before he could say anything, Powder turned and walked away—her footsteps quick, disappearing into the hallway.
Jonathan blinked after her.
Vi exhaled, crossing her arms.
"You guys must've had quite the argument with Vander," Jonathan said softly.
Vi nodded. "No one likes arguments."
Jonathan glanced toward the hall where Powder had left, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Mylo, stay here," Vi said as she started walking after her sister. Then, pausing, she looked back.
"Jonathan… you can come."
"Me? Why?"
Vi gave a shrug, almost sheepish. "I'm always calm when I'm around you. Maybe you can help her feel the same."
"Calm…" Jonathan echoed softly, briefly thinking of his pheromones. Oh. That.
"…Alright. Let's go."
⸻
They found Powder curled up on her bed, fiddling with a small gadget. She was carefully drawing a jagged mouth onto its faceplate.
Vi leaned on the edge of the bed. "What are you calling this one?"
Powder glanced up, then down again. "Whisker."
From across the room, Jonathan tilted his head. "It looks more like a Bob to me."
Powder rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Bob is stupid."
Jonathan quietly began looking around for something to draw on.
Vi sat down beside her. "You wanna talk about today?"
"What's the point?" Powder muttered, sitting up. "I ruineverything. I always do."
"Nobody said that," Vi replied firmly.
Jonathan settled near the desk, dragging a piece of scrap metal toward him. He pulled a piece of charcoal from his coat and started sketching absently.
"No, just that you were twice the person at half my age," Powder muttered bitterly. "I'm sure Jonathan was, too."
"You heard them—I'm not a fighter."
Vi frowned, about to argue, but Jonathan stood before she could answer. He held the scrap behind his back.
"That's right," he said evenly. "You're not a fighter."
Powder blinked, startled by the agreement.
"But you are smart. Ridiculouslysmart. And clever. And you can shoot—maybe not a real gun, but your aim's better than some people I've seen."
She turned to look at him. "So what? I still ruin everything. I'm not like Vi."
Jonathan raised a brow. "That's because Vi's an anomaly."
Vi snorted. "Gee, thanks."
Jonathan ignored her, crouching to be eye level with Powder.
"When I was your age?" He shrugged. "I probably would've lost a fight with you."
Powder looked at him, unconvinced. "No way. You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Vi crossed her arms, skeptical too.
Jonathan tilted his head. "It's true. I used to be scared of everything. If you'd shown me your little bomb—even if I knew it didn't work—I probably still would've run away."
Powder stared at him, quiet. Her voice came out soft.
"…How do you stop being scared?"
Jonathan's eyes drifted to the ceiling for a moment. Then he looked back at her.
"I became desensitized to everything," he said flatly. "Only the ultimate fears can scare me now."
Powder furrowed her brows, confused.
Jonathan blinked, then suddenly brightened. "Hey—look at what I drew!"
He flipped around a scrap of metal, revealing a rough, cartoonish sketch: Powder grinning, holding a lopsided bomb with googly eyes. At the top, in jagged letters, it read:
"Powder — Creator of Bob the Bomb."
Powder stared at it. Despite herself, a smile cracked through.
She shook her head. "Bob the Bomb is never going to happen."
"We'll see about that," Jonathan said with a small smirk.
Vi chuckled. "Hey, Powder—come with me," she said, rising and offering a hand.
Jonathan raised his own hand. "Sorry. I should be going. I still have to get rid of the bag."
Vi nodded. "Come on, Powder."
As Vi and Powder left the room and headed toward the rooftop, Jonathan slipped quietly through the opposite door—still damp, the bag slung low at his side.
He walked alone through the dim alleyways of the undercity, headed back to the lab.
————————————————
Now standing in front of the lab entrance, Crane took a deep breath.
"They should be in there by now," he muttered, thinking about Silco and his goons.
He stepped inside silently, pressing himself against the wall and listening.
Inside, a boy sat on a chair, flanked by two of Silco's men.
"You were supposed to follow them," Silco said coldly, "not interfere."
"I'm sorry," the boy grunted. "They just caught us by surprise."
"Now his accomplice is asking questions about you," Silco said, injecting something into his eye with a steady hand. "That's not a risk I'm willing to take."
"The kids—it was them. The explosion topside."
Silco's eye twitched. "That was them?" he repeated. "There's talk of five kids."
"Well, I only saw four. The topsiders are up in arms looking for 'em." The boy coughed.
Silco rose slowly and walked toward the boy.
"Vander's in trouble," he said, half to himself.
He stopped in front of the chair and smiled thinly. "Smartest thing you've said, boy."
Then, to his men: "Get him a meal. Keep him off the streets."
They nodded and hauled the boy out of the chair.
Silco walked to the window, gazing forward.
"Our timeline has moved up."
"It's almost ready," Singed murmured nearby, holding a glowing vial of shimmer.
That's when Crane stepped down into the lab, quietly lifting the cat and smiling faintly as he approached Singed.
"Is it time?" Crane asked.
Singed turned to him, surprised. "You're back."
Silco's gaze snapped toward him too, narrowing. He said nothing—but his eyes were calculating.
"I have to be," Crane said breezily. "I'm your assistant. I was just… lost."
Singed nodded once. "It's feeding time. Put the cat in."
Crane walked over, placed the cat into the reinforced cage, and stepped back as Singed locked it with a click.
Silco approached, staring through the glass. "And the side effects?"
"Stabilizing," Singed said flatly.
Inside the cage, the mouse drank the shimmer. It twitched violently—veins glowing purple—then lunged at the cat.
The cat hissed and scrambled back, claws skidding against steel.
But the mouse was faster.
And stronger.
Crane watched, motionless, as blood spattered the inside of the cage.
Singed didn't look away—just calmly observed the kill.
But Silco flinched.
Just slightly.
Not at the gore.
At the speed.
"You have a subject in mind?" Singed asked, eyes still on the twitching mouse.
Silco didn't look away. "Someone just volunteered."
Crane blinked once.
All he could think about was how much tea he wanted to drink.
—————————-
I need to learn not to put crane in scenes he doesn't need to be in.
I wrote a whole section with crane also with Vi and powder on the rooftop, I had to get rid of it because it felt awkward.
I need to actually put him in places where he can contribute to the conversation.