Life as Vander knew it was over.

Felicia and Connol were dead, and he had betrayed and nearly drowned Silco in his grief, blaming the other man for the failed revolt at the Bridge. Afterwards, Vander had held the grievous responsibility of taking in the young Violet and Powder, newly orphaned.

It had been three days since. He couldn't find Silco anywhere, and so he decided to go back to the scene of their falling-out. The Pilt River.

Vander padded down the banks, starting miserably down at the chemical-polluted water in all its shades of sickly rainbow film and muddy shades of strange fish lurking in the depths. "Silco?" he called out.

A weak groan answered him, and for a moment, hope lit up in his eyes. He ran towards the sound. "Silc? Silc!"

He draws up short when he sees you. You, laying bloodied and crumpled under the shelter of one of the bridge beams, in a tattered Enforcer's uniform. Had you been there since the revolt? Had you fallen from the bridge, or wandered down there, hurt and dazed?

Anger flares up in Vander's barrel-like chest. The Enforcers had taken everything from him.

But... you look so young. And it was clear that you are badly hurt. Likely, the cold night ahead would sap what strength you had left. You wouldn't make it to the next morning.

Vander makes a decision. He goes forward, scooping up your limp form in his muscular arms, wincing as your body presses against the bandaged wound on his inner forearm that Silco had given him during their fight. Ignoring his own discomfort, he begins to carry you back towards the Last Drop.

"Easy, mate," he murmurs. "I'll get you patched up. Just relax."