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It was Saturday morning, and The Last Drop was empty, silent except for faint stirrings of the kids downstairs. Vander was positioned behind the bar, busy at work ensuring that he was well stocked for this evening. The Undercity tended to favor his watering hole on Saturday nights, packing the space with exhausted citizens, young adults looking to blow off steam, and, unfortunately, unsavory characters looking to do business away from Enforcer eyes. Vander didn’t mind the crowd, though. It kept him busy and provided enough money for him to care for the wayward children he’d adopted over the years.
As if the thought summoned them, the four of them came scampering up the stairs, shattering the peaceful quiet of the bar with their laughter and ramblings. Vi, the oldest, had a bag slung over one shoulder, gripping the strap with a boxing tape wrapped hand. Mylo, a scrawny boy with fluffy brown hair he tried to keep slicked back, and Claggor, a stocky boy who always seemed to be wearing goggles, came up behind her. The last of their pack was a young blue-haired girl named Powder. She clutched her own bag in her skinny arms as she traipsed after the older kids.
As he looked on, Powder trotted up to Vi, swinging her bag over her own shoulder no doubt to look like her big sister. Vi smiled down at her and ruffled her short blue hair affectionately. “You ready to go, kiddo?"
Powder bounced excitedly on her toes. “You know it! I even made some adjustments to my gadgets. They should work no problem this time!” As she spoke, the young girl dug out a hunk of bolts and metal haphazardly fuzed together, a winder positioned on the back of it.
Mylo and Claggor noticed this almost immediately. Claggor simply rolled his eyes and said nothing. Mylo, on the other hand, groaned and scrubbed his face with one hand. “Why do you even bother with those things? They never work!” Without giving Powder a chance to defend her invention, the lanky boy glared at Vi. “Do we really have to bring her?"
Vi opened her mouth for a stinging retort, but Vander got there first. “Yes, you do.” He loudly set down the tankard he had been polishing. Four sets of eyes whipped in his direction, the boys ducking with guilt and embarrassment. “Powder is old enough to come along with you. You’ll be kind and help her if she needs it, or I’ll want to know why.” The burly man offered a soft smile at his youngest and then fixed a more serious look on Vi. “Look after your sister."
Vi nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.” She shot daggers at Mylo and Claggor, who muttered half apologies, and then turned toward the door. Before she could get there, however, a tall, thin figure darkened the window. The newcomer turned the handle and pushed it open.
A man dressed in dark red tailored pants, a matching buttoned vest, and a pin-striped shirt cuffed at the elbows stepped over the threshold. His mismatched eyes swept over the establishment and landed on the children. He stared down his nose at them, his lips pulling into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Good morning, children. Off to play?"
“Silco,” the name came as a growl as Vander rounded the bar. Without taking his eyes off the man, he addressed the kids, “Get going. Stay out of trouble.” The hulking man waited, arms folded and eyes locked on Silco until the door clattered shut and then waited some more, wanting to be certain that they were gone.
Vander held the sly man under a piercing gaze, taking no small satisfaction from the subtle shift in his posture. His voice was dangerously quiet when he spoke, “What do you want?"
Silco smirked and strode further into the bar, eyes wandering lazily over the tables and stools. He slowly drew a cigar from his pocket. Taking great care, obviously stalling, he unwrapped it and clipped the end. Then, lighter in hand, met Vander’s eye as he placed the cigar between his lips, flicked a flame to life, and pulled in a breath. Silco leaned an elbow on a high top table and exhaled through his nose, blue eye blinking slowly.
Vander clenched his jaw, hating that Silco still held an allure, an age-old attraction that always seemed to smolder when they were near again. He carded a hand through his hair and took up his place behind the counter, drawing two glasses from below. “Are you going to talk, or just smoke at me for a while?"
Silco wore an expression akin to a serpent, and Vander cursed himself for allowing the display to affect him. The lithe man tipped his head to the side and softened his face to a sort of mock innocence. “What, I can’t visit an old friend?” He pouted his lip at him.
Vander scowled. “We’re not friends. Not anymore."
“No, I should think not,” the reply was deceptively sad, matching his downcast mismatched eyes. Vander almost thought he was genuinely upset, until those orbs of fire and ice snapped up at him. “Friends don’t often try to drown one another in a toxic river.” When Vander said nothing, Silco’s good eye narrowed to a slit, the orange one boring into him. “Or is that reserved for ex-lovers only?"
The venomous comment died as a heavy fist slammed on the counter. Vander bowed his head, closed his eyes, and heaved a very measured sigh. The muscles in his jaw pulsated, teeth grinding together as he fought the urge to scream. Without looking up, he murmured in as even a tone as he could manage, “Betraying you remains to this day the single biggest mistake of my life."
“Yes, well-"
“But,” Vander cut him off and looked up from under his eyebrows, “you didn’t deny it when I tried to talk to you. You didn’t deny that the council approached you."
Silco recoiled. But instead of hurt, his expression was one of indignation. “You never gave me the chance to defend myself, Vander. You met me on that riverbank to ‘talk’-” he bent his fingers in quotation marks, “-and only asked me if it was true. No context, no explanation. Just ‘Is it true’.” Vander’s eyes drifted to the deep scar situated around black sclera and orange iris, unable to reply. Silco swept on, “What the fuck was I supposed to do with that, Vander, hm? And then your sledgehammer fist was pounding my face in and I didn’t know why. I was fighting back and I didn’t know why.” He stalked up to the bar as he continued, “Your hand was around my throat in that river and I didn’t. Know. Why. ” Silco emphasized the last three words with a finger jabbing the bartop, a snarl pulling at his top lip. Then he sighed, deflating, and swept his hair back.
Vander stared at him, astonishment holding him ridgid. After a moment, he shook it off and conjured a bottle from beneath the counter, pouring amber liquid into both glasses. He slid one to Silco, took a measured drink of his own, and then spoke, “I was a very different person then,” grief colored the larger man’s words. “I was angry, because I knew I would have earned a place in that prison.” He finally met the other man’s stare, catching those chilling eyes from over the rim of his glass. “When I learned the truth, that you hadn’t betrayed me, that you hadn’t made a deal with Enforcers and tried to have me arrested, I knew it was already too late to fix anything.” Vander rasped a sigh, thumb tracing the scar left by Silco on his forearm.
Silco puffed his cigar thoughtfully, watching as Vander toyed with the souvenir left by him all those years ago. “It was us against the world,” he whispered. “We were going to save the Undercity, help our people…” His eyes slid up to examine Vander’s face, relishing in the guilt that pulled the corners of his mouth down, the anxiety that subtly stitched his eyebrows together. “But you couldn’t handle the way I did things, got jealous of people like the Doctor, and you only got angrier when I tried to explain. And then, years later, you’ve sided with Enforcers after accusing me of cutting a deal with them, after nearly killing me over a damn rumor."
“Silco, I-"
“No.” He didn’t blink as Vander met his gaze and allowed the silence to stretch between them before continuing, “I missed you terribly, you know, in the days after. Missed our talks. One day soon we will talk like that again, and I do hope you listen.” The man before him tapped the scar on his face pointedly. “I hope you listen because if you don’t, I will make you pay for the day you gave me this.” Silco dropped his hand with a shake of his head and chuckled humorlessly, eyes drifting to the end of his cigar. “I used to think that we were it, Vander. I thought you were the love of my life. Now?” Silco trailed off.
Used to think? Vander frowned, waiting for him to continue. Why was Silco even here? Why was he entertaining this conversation? He didn’t know. But here he was, hating himself for once again hanging onto Silco’s every word. “Now? Now what, Silco?” He flinched as if struck when Silco’s eyes stabbed hatred at him when they lifted again.
“I don’t miss you anymore."
Vander could do nothing but watch, stunned and shackled with renewed guilt and grief, as Silco dropped the cigar into his whisky glass and turned, leaving without allowing the bartender a chance to respond. He didn’t know how long he stood there watching the remains of the wrapped tobacco smolder, the image of that fiery iris burned into his retina.