"Who's this little rascal?" Vander smiled as he ruffled Isha's hair.
"I'm Isha," she beamed.
The morning dew outside broke the light coming into the Last Drop into bright rays of sunlight. Everyone was there except for Ekko and Benzo, alternating gazes between Orion and Isha.
"You have a younger sister?" Vi asked.
"No," Orion replied slowly. "She's from the mines I used to work at. Her parents went missing, so I'm going to look after her."
Vander chuckled. "That's a tough road, trying to feed other mouths without a steady job. And I suppose that's why you came to me?"
In the background, he heard Mylo make a sound of disapproval, or perhaps annoyance. Regardless, Orion shook his head, his expression turning more serious.
"Not quite. Can I talk to you alone?"
Once again, he drew some surprised looks.
"Alright," Vander sighed. "Kids, choose. Outside or downstairs."
"Downstairs, downstairs!"
Powder's voice cut through the hesitation from the rest.
"Isha and me can draw!"
'Look at that, Powder leading the charge,' Orion thought amusedly as the gang automatically started toward the stairs. When he glanced at Vi, she was giving him conflicted expressions again before slowly walking back to the rest of the gang.
Once the door closed, Orion turned back to Vander. The older man leaned back against a pillar next to his bar, arms folded, gaze patient as he waited for the request.
"So, what's this about?"
Orion hesitated.
"Do you remember how I took that job and the Enforcers put out a warrant on me?"
"Aye," Vander snorted. "And they did a lousy job. Couldn't even find the illegal tech Smeech was smuggling in."
"Yeah, well, that job I took was for Chembaron C. She wants to meet with me this evening at Factorywood."
At her name, Vander's expression tightened with concern. The easygoing light in his eyes hardened, his posture straightening as if bracing for bad news.
"How many jobs have you taken from her?"
"Just the one, but it paid in silver. The problem is—"
"She wants more from you," Vander finished. "And with your parents dead, I'm guessing she went looking for the next closest to you to threaten you with… which now happens to be that little girl and others at the mine?"
"No, not her or the people at the mines…" Orion sucked in air, glancing at the closed door leading downstairs. Vander's eyes widened and his arms unfolded.
"The kids?"
Orion nodded, and Vander's expression darkened. His voice lowered, becoming more persuasive.
"I was hoping you'd take in Isha while I broke contact with the gang."
"Don't be stupid," Vander snapped. "Do you think C won't question it when her spies find me feeding a new mouth? Every Chembaron in the Undercity watches what I do, and I try to watch them through my own birds."
He leaned in slightly, his tone almost a growl. "If you make one wrong move, they'll be on all of us before we even hear the boots coming."
"The only way this ends without violence is if you keep working for her or you take her down."
"I was going to ask if you'd help…"
"Help? Kid, I'm forced to deal with this now that her eyes are on my kids," Vander shook his head. "She's broken an unspoken rule between those that run the Undercity."
Orion looked a little surprised, and Vander snorted. "Did you think this shithole didn't have any rules? No, it's a very simple one. Don't target the young that aren't yours."
"Everyone's young?" Orion frowned.
Vander's eyebrow twitched. "Some people who work for me have children. Their children can't be touched by other Chembarons. This rule applies to every leader down here."
"I don't like that other Chembarons still use children," Vander continued, "and I've slowly been stopping it. My territory is the largest in Entresol but it still takes time."
With a glint in his eyes, Vander stepped away from the pillar and placed a hand on Orion's shoulder. "This is perfect, actually."
"You want to use this as an opportunity to take her down?"
Vander nodded with a fierce glint in his eyes. "Yes! Just go down there like planned and report back. We can take her down, my children will be safe, and I'll establish a foothold in the Sump level."
"After that, it will only be a matter of time before we make life better down there!"
A disaster turned into an opportunity.
"I thought you'd be more angry," Orion blurted honestly.
"I'm furious," Vander replied. "But not at you. This stuff is common in the Undercity. I'm happier that you told me rather than keeping it hidden and putting my kids in danger."
Vander pulled his hand from Orion's shoulder and started walking toward the downstairs door. His boots were heavy, purposefully loud.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of Isha. You do what you need to do for today."
Pausing at the door, Vander frowned and waited a second before opening it. All of the kids were on the other side of the stairs, giving innocent stares. Too innocent.
"Kids, Vi," Vi stiffened when he mentioned her name.
"You've found yourselves a new friend to look after."
Powder squeaked, "Yay!" next to a smiling Isha.
-----------------------
Factorywood, just like Bonscutt Pump Station, Dredge Prison, and Zaun's Asylum, was concentrated on the south side of the Sump level. Most of the Undercity's notorious places, horror stories, and tragedies were found there.
The north side held the slightly more humane areas such as the Slums, Black Lanes, and Commercia Fantastica. The Old Hungry clocktower stood smack in the middle of it all.
Factorywood, however, wasn't a single factory, but a labyrinth of tightly packed industrial buildings with pools of liquified chemtech materials, sewage, and other highly toxic waste. Even a seasoned Sump traveler might have trouble knowing which buildings belonged to which Chembaron.
Orion stood out like a sore thumb.
Down here, there was no color, no individuality. Everyone was buried beneath layers of soot, byproducts, and waste. One glance at Orion, the distinct colors of his brown jacket and underlays, marked him as an outsider. The sharp, unfriendly glares from passersby told him without a word, 'You don't belong here.'
It wasn't long before two large men, their clean, bouncer-styled clothing starkly contrasting with the filth around them, approached. Workers nearby lowered their heads to avoid eye contact as the pair passed.
"C's waiting," one said curtly, his deep, scratchy voice cutting through the mechanical noise. He held out a brown sack.
"Put this on."
Orion grumbled under his breath. There wasn't much point arguing. He glanced up at the two, who waited impatiently, then resignedly took the sack and pulled it over his head.
'This is a bit of an issue.'
If he channeled magic, the light would stand out like a beacon in this monochrome wasteland.
The two roughly grabbed his arms and guided him. Vision cut off in such a hostile place, paired with the assault on his remaining senses, left him tense and alert. Every step felt uncertain and his instincts screamed that he was walking into danger.
Clang!
A metal door slammed open, the sound reverberating around him. The air grew lighter and the temperature rose noticeably, a sharp contrast to the oppressive chill outside.
More metal doors creaked open in succession. Orion could tell one man was leading while the other kept a firm grip on his shoulder, steering him forward.
Finally, a last door groaned open and the air shifted again. It was clean. Fresh. He could smell dirt.
'Flowers,' Orion thought, catching the faint perfume of greenery.
The natural aroma threw him off. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he wasn't in the Undercity at all but back in Count Mei's Menagerie.
Shuffling footsteps drew closer before the sack was pulled away. Light stabbed his eyes, forcing him to squint until his vision adjusted and then his breath caught.
It was like the menagerie greenhouse but untamed and wild in its abundance. Luminescent algae clung to every surface, casting an otherworldly glow. Vibrant trees reached upward, their branches heavy with blooms. A grand glass roof arched overhead, refracting light into shifting patterns across the sea of flowers and dense, colorful bushes dotting the space.
A humming voice came from beside him, calm yet piercing in its confidence.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"