Arcane: I have Plasmids F*** YEAAAAAAH!!!

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The water was dark.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Lukas sank.

The explosion had torn him from the factory—flung his broken body into the depths below. His limbs were numb, his ears filled with the muffled silence of the abyss.

His body ached. His ribs burned. His lungs screamed.

But Lukas was tired.

So damn tired.

His arms barely moved. His fingers twitched.

His body wasn't listening anymore.

Something inside him whispered.

"Let go."

The darkness curled around him, welcoming.

Ding.

[SYSTEM ALERT: WARNING. CRITICAL HEALTH LEVELS.]

[SYSTEM ALERT: VITAL SIGNS DROPPING: 15% OF MAX TOTAL HEALTH.]

[WARNING. WARNING.]

A sharp, mechanical beeping echoed in his skull.

But Lukas didn't wake.

His mind drifted.

A voice.

Not the system.

Not a warning.

Something softer.

"You can't give up, my son."

Lukas's fingers twitched.

The water around him trembled.

A memory surfaced.

---Flashback---

A flicker of warm light.

A fireplace.

A worn, but comfortable chair, too big for his small frame.

And a man—his father.

Not the man who left.

Not the man who abandoned him.

But the man he remembered.

The man who taught him how to fight.

The man who made him believe in something.

"A son of Zaun doesn't quit, son."

His voice was rough. A low growl, filled with quiet steel.

"No matter how many times the world knocks you down."

Lukas, younger, smaller, looked up at him, eyes wide.

"But what if—"

"No 'what ifs.'" His father cut him off. His hands, scarred and calloused, gripped his shoulders. "You stand up. You fight."

Lukas hesitated.

His father's grip tightened.

"Because if you don't—who will?"

The words wrapped around him.

A fire in his chest.

A spark.

And then—

Lukas's eyes snapped open.

The abyss shattered.

The toxic water roared.

His lungs burned—but he didn't care.

His body screamed—but he forced it to move.

He kicked.

He clawed.

He fought.

Because he wasn't done.

Because his family still needed him.

And because Lukas Fontaine didn't fucking quit.

---

The surface exploded.

Lukas broke through the water, gasping, choking, sucking in the thick, polluted air of Zaun like it was the first breath he'd ever taken.

His arms burned. His ribs ached.

His everything hurt.

But he was alive.

And the fight wasn't over.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Lukas dragged himself onto the docks.

Every inch of him screamed. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands shaking as they gripped the cold metal.

He had barely made it.

But he made it.

His vest was ruined. His gloves were torn. His body was burned, battered, bruised. His left arm hung at an odd angle—probably dislocated.

But none of that mattered.

Not when he saw what was left of the factory.

Fire. Everywhere.

Smoke choked the streets, thick and bitter. The distant screams of civilians mixed with the sound of metal groaning, buildings collapsing under their own weight.

Zaun was in chaos.

The fight had ended.

But at what cost?

Lukas's vision blurred. His body swayed.

He had to—

Had to find them.

His hands gripped the dock railings. He forced himself forward, stumbling through the wreckage, past bodies, past debris, past the blood staining the ground.

And then—

His heart stopped.

---

Vander.

Laying motionless.

His massive frame was resting on the ground. His clothes were torn, burned

His body wasn't moving.

Lukas's legs almost gave out.

No. No, no, no.

He rushed forward.

Collapsed to his knees beside him.

The weight on his shoulders was unbearable.

His hands trembled.

His breath came out in ragged, broken gasps.

Vander lay before him.

His body was a ruin.

Twisted. Bloodied. Barely breathing. ( this is some time after Vi and Powder left, Vander's body is trying to regenerate, but it can't.)

The shimmer in his veins refused to let him die.

And Lukas—

Lukas had failed.

His mind was a storm.

A vicious, self-devouring hurricane of regret and rage.

He was supposed to know.

To be prepared.

To change things.

To win.

But what had he done?

What had he fucking done?

Nothing.

He had been arrogant.

He had wasted time.

He should have killed Silco the moment he walked into his factory.

He should have crushed him before he had the chance to steal his family.

He should have been better.

Faster.

Stronger.

Wiser.

But he wasn't.

And now—

He had lost.

Lukas clenched his fists.

His nails dug into his palms.

His breathing turned erratic.

His body trembled—

Then—

He screamed.

"GODDAMMIT!"

A sound of rage.

Of agony.

Of a man who had lost something too precious to lose.

He screamed until his voice broke.

Until his throat burned.

Until his lungs gave out.

And when the sound finally died—

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Lukas's body curled inward.

His head dropped.

His forehead pressed against the cold, blood-stained ground.

And for the first time since coming to this world—

He sobbed.

Broken. Hopeless. Empty.

And then—

A thought.

A whisper.

A desperate ember in the void.

There's still a chance.

Lukas's breath hitched.

His mind latched onto the idea like a dying man grasping for air.

There was still one thing he hadn't tried.

One thing that could work.

'The Vita-Chamber.'

The system had finished its construction three days ago.

He hadn't tested it.

Hadn't needed it.

But now—

Now it was Vander's only hope.

Lukas lifted his head.

His eyes were bloodshot.

His face stained with grief.

But his hands—

His hands stopped shaking.

Slowly, he wiped his face.

Then—

He stood.

His decision was made.

"I'm not leaving you here, Vander..."

His voice was hoarse.

Broken.

But certain.

Lukas Fontaine didn't quit.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to let that mad Doctor take him...

---

Lukas moved.

His body screamed at him to stop.

Burns seared his skin. His ribs ached with every breath. His vision blurred at the edges.

None of it mattered.

Not now.

Not when Vander's life hung by a thread.

He opened the system.

A flicker of light.

Ding.

[REMAINING SYSTEM POINTS: 21,000]

[PURCHASED: 3 EVE HYPOS – 300 POINTS]

[PURCHASED: 3 MEDKITS – 600 POINTS]

[REMAINING SYSTEM POINTS: 20,100]

Three small syringes materialized in his hand. Three rolls of bandages. Some disinfectant.

Not enough.

Not for this.

But it would have to do.

He injected the first hypo.

Power surged through his veins. His burned flesh tingled, his vision sharpened. The pain dulled.

Better.

But not enough.

He crouched beside Vander.

Worked fast.

Pressed bandages against the torn flesh, wrapped the wounds as tightly as he could.

It was useless.

The shimmer kept fighting him.

The wounds tried to close—only to split apart again.

A sick imitation of healing.

Not natural.

Not real.

You won't last long like this…

Lukas's hands trembled.

His breath came in sharp, shuddering gasps.

How the fuck was he supposed to do this?

Vander wasn't just big.

He was massive.

And worse—his new form was twice as heavy.

Even with Telekinesis, it would be difficult.

He'd need strength.

Real, raw, brute force.

Lukas gritted his teeth.

Fine.

He reached into the system.

Scanned the list.

And there it was.

[GENE TONIC: SPORTBOOST – 500 POINTS]

[REMAINING SYSTEM POINTS: 19,600.]

Ding.

The vial appeared in his palm.

A deep red liquid swirled inside.

He didn't hesitate.

Rolled up his sleeve.

And injected it.

The effect was instant.

A rush of raw power.

His muscles tightened. His limbs felt lighter. His body coiled like a predator ready to pounce.

His fingers curled into fists.

Good.

He knelt beside Vander again.

Positioned his arms beneath his massive frame.

Flexed.

Lifted.

Lukas grunted.

The weight was immense—like trying to move a mountain.

His knees nearly buckled.

But he held.

Held, because he had to.

Held, because there was no other choice.

His breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps.

His vision blurred.

His body screamed.

And yet—

Step.

By step.

By fucking step—

He moved.

Dragging Vander through the dark streets of Zaun.

Alone.

Bleeding.

Breaking.

And yet—

He kept going.

Because if he stopped—if he fell—

Vander was gone.

And Lukas Fontaine would not allow that.

Not today.

Not ever.

---

(Start playing 'The Ocean on his shoulders' from bioshock 2 guys, Please.)

Zaun was quiet.

Too quiet.

The fires from the factory still burned in the distance, a dull orange glow against the smog-filled sky. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and blood.

Lukas staggered forward.

One step.

Then another.

Vander's weight dragged against him, his massive frame a burden that Lukas refused to drop.

He could hear it.

The slow, uneven pulse.

Barely there.

Faint. Weak. Failing.

Lukas's breathing was ragged.

His body screamed.

His mind screamed louder.

He moved on sheer will.

Not because he was strong enough.

But because he had to be.

The streets of Zaun blurred past him.

Footsteps.

Shadows shifting in the alleyways.

The undercity had seen him.

And they had seen The being behind him.

Some whispered.

Many were afraid.

But none of them moved.

None of them tried to help.

No one wanted to get involved.

And Lukas?

He didn't have the strength to care.

He barely even noticed when his boots scraped against metal.

The stairs.

Fontaine Futuristics.

He was here.

At last.

He adjusted Vander's weight.

One last push.

He stepped inside.

And the moment the doors shut behind him—

He collapsed.

---

The factory was a mess.

Lukas could still see the wreckage of his last fight.

Broken crates. Shattered glass. Bloodstains on the concrete.

Everything was exactly how he left it.

Except this time—

It was his.

No enforcers.

No Silco.

No fucking threats.

Just him.

Him and the dying man on his back.

He clenched his jaw.

Not dying.

Not yet.

He forced himself to move.

His arms shook.

His legs nearly gave out.

But he pushed forward.

Step by step.

Through the ruined workshop.

Past the remains of his old life.

And toward his last hope.

He reached the far wall.

The hidden door.

The entrance to his real work.

Lukas exhaled.

And pressed his hand against the fake wall.

A click.

And then—

The metal door opened.

Revealing a staircase.

Descending into the abyss.

Lukas swallowed hard.

His fingers curled tighter around Vander's frame.

And then—

He took the first step.

The descent was slow.

Heavy.

Every step echoed in the silence.

The deeper he went, the colder it became.

The air grew thick with the hum of machinery.

Steam hissed from the pipes along the walls.

The dim glow of flickering lights barely illuminated the path ahead.

Lukas's breath came in sharp, shuddering gasps.

He was so close.

Just a little further.

Then—

He reached it.

His grip tightened.

And with the last of his strength—

He was there.

---

The room was exactly how he left it.

Dark. Cold. Unfinished.

In the center—

A single operating table.

Lukas dragged Vander forward.

His vision swam.

His limbs trembled.

But he made it.

He reached the table.

And with one last push—

He dropped him onto it.

The weight vanished.

Lukas stumbled back.

His knees buckled.

He caught himself against the counter.

Gasping.

Shaking.

Barely holding on.

But he did it.

He brought him home.

Now came the hard part.

Lukas turned.

His eyes locked onto the only thing that could save him now.

The Vita Chamber.

---

His hand shook as he reached for the system.

Ding.

The screen flickered.

The words appeared.

And what he saw—

Made his stomach drop.

[SYSTEM ALERT: WARNING. VITA-CHAMBER CANNOT REVERSE GENETIC ALTERATION OR SLOW-WASTING ILLNESSES.]

His breath caught.

If he used the Vita-Chamber now—it wouldn't fix him.

It would just stabilize what was already broken.

Which meant...

Lukas swallowed.

He couldn't just heal Vander.

He had to stop the shimmer from twisting him further.

"No..."

Not this.

Not fucking this.

"NO!"

His fist slammed against the counter.

The system was supposed to save him.

It was supposed to be his last hope.

And now—

It was telling him it wasn't enough.

Lukas's breathing turned ragged.

His vision blurred.

Everything inside him screamed.

What was he supposed to do now?

What fucking choice did he have?

His eyes burned.

His fingers dug into his hair.

He had fought.

He had done everything right.

And yet—

It still wasn't enough.

Lukas's chest heaved.

The weight crushed down on him.

Doubt. Guilt. Desperation.

He was breaking.

And then—

A thought.

A memory.

From a world long gone.

A game that had a special place in his memory.

Bioshock 2.

His breath caught.

'Delta...'

His mind raced.

The Big Daddies.

The lumbering guardians of Rapture.

Men twisted by science.

Monsters encased in steel.

But—

There was one type.

One that didn't fully lose itself.

One that held onto something human.

The Alpha Series.

Lukas froze.

His hands clenched into fists.

A choice.

A terrible, horrible choice.

But a choice nonetheless.

His gaze hardened.

He turned back to Vander.

Looked at the broken, ruined man. The one man who decided to believe in him.

The one good man.

And he made his decision.

"I won't lose you."

He opened the system.

[SYSTEM ALERT: WARNING. ALPHA SERIES TRANSFORMATION IS EXPERIMENTAL. POSSIBILITY OF REVERSAL: 12.8%]

Lukas stilled.

12.8%.

That was it.

That was all he had.

Lukas's jaw clenched.

But he knew.

Even if there was a 1% chance—

It was better than the alternative

The only way to stop shimmer from twisting Vander into something worse.

To save him from dying.

But it wasn't a cure.

It was a prison.

A gamble.

A temporary salvation.

And if Lukas couldn't find a way to reverse it—

Then Vander would be trapped in that body forever.

His jaw clenched.

His fingers shook.

This was a choice he couldn't undo.

A choice that meant taking Vander's life into his hands—again.

Lukas sucked in a breath.

His thoughts raced.

The seconds dragged.

And then—

His hands moved.

"Forgive me, Vander."

And he pressed [ACCEPT.]