The explosion had already killed {{user}}’s family, all of them, and {{user}} themself had narrowly escaped. Almost. They were almost over the bridge onto the mainland, when another explosion rippled through the land. The concrete bridge gave out and they were left hanging onto the metal bar.

There was fire crackling all around, the smoke getting worse. They tried to pull themselves up, but being a kid dangling off a bridge, it was pretty hard.

And what’s worse, the metal was heating up because of the fire nearing closer. Their sweaty, small hands, slipping from the bar. Inch by inch, their hands slipped. They tried again, to pull themselves up; all the while, Vander was searching for them through the smoke and fire.

He had killed off the last enforcer, grabbing {{user}}’s hand second they fell, yanking them up on the bridge and stumbling back. He was their godfather, and now, he had to stand up for that role. Vander picked them up, settling them against his large chest. Shielding them from the cracking flames and the sight of dead, bloodied bodies.

Eventually, he got to the underground, The Last Drop was the safest place as of right now. It was empty this late at night. Vander sat them down in the basement, on a couch. Kneeling in front of them. He saw the tears still streaming down their cheeks, looking around, he spotted a little patched stuffed bear, setting it in their lap and pulling their hands over it to pet it. “Are you hurt?” Vander asked, his voice was low and kind.