SCARS

Mentor's Resolve

In the quiet of midnight, Vander meticulously wiped down the bar, the only sound the gentle swish of the cloth against the polished wood. The dim lights cast elongated shadows across the room, creating an atmosphere of calm solitude. As he worked, lost in his thoughts, he heard the creak of the barstool behind him.

Vi sauntered in, her presence breaking the silence.

For the entirety of the day, Vi had found herself restless, her thoughts consumed by the conversation she had shared with Calypso the night before. She had spent the entire morning avoiding Calypso, busying herself with tasks around the bar to avoid any further interaction.

But as the day wore on, Vi's resolve began to waver. She couldn't ignore the gratitude she had seen in Calypso's eyes, the genuine appreciation for Vi's pastry gift, her olive branch, as it were. It made Vi uncomfortable, she couldn't really understand why.

She couldn't ignore the guilt that gnawed at her all day, the realization that she had been cold and harsh towards Calypso without truly understanding why she had come to the undercity. Calypso wasn't the pristine topsider Vi had thought her to be, no- she was broken. She was hurt just like everyone else down here, and Vi couldn't shake the guilt she held for trying to break Calypso even more.

She ignored her emotions by doing what she always did, throwing herself into the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the undercity. Vi was no stranger to danger, no stranger to the thrill of the chase and the rush of the unknown.

Throughout the day, she had leaped from rooftop to rooftop, her agile form a blur against the backdrop of the sprawling cityscape. She had navigated the treacherous alleys with ease, ducking and weaving through the labyrinthine streets like a ghost in the night.

She had raided abandoned warehouses and forgotten hideouts, her nimble fingers picking locks and bypassing traps with practiced skill. She had looted shops and plundered caches, her pockets bulging with stolen goods and ill-gotten gains.

At one point, she had found herself in the midst of a particularly close-call situation, her heart pounding in her chest as she evaded the watchful eyes of the city's guards. She had laughed in the face of danger, reveling in the thrill of the chase as she danced on the edge of oblivion.

But no matter how fast she ran, no matter how daring her exploits, Vi couldn't escape the weight of her guilt. It clung to her like a shadow, a constant reminder of the quick judgment she had made.

Needless to say, it had been an exhausting day.

Vi slid onto a barstool, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey there, Vander. Mind if I bother you for a shot? It's been a long day."

Vander glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know the rules, Vi. No drinking before bed."

Vi sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically and groaning loudly.

Vander shook his head, scoffing softly. "What brings you out here at this hour?"

Vi grinned, leaning her elbows on the bar. "Just needed some conversation, I guess. Plus, I missed your charming company."

Vander chuckled, continuing his task. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Vi. But I appreciate the sentiment."

As Vander worked, Vi watched him intently, a playful glint in her eyes. "So, spill it, boss man. What's on your mind tonight? You seem lost in thought."

Vander paused, considering his words carefully. "It's Calypso. I know she's new here, but she can't spend all her time cooped up in this basement or working behind the bar. It's not healthy for her, and it's not what I brought her here for."

Vi's brow furrowed as she listened. "And what exactly did you bring her here for, huh?"

Vander's expression remained composed, though a hint of exasperation tinged his voice. "I brought her here to be part of our team, to contribute to our cause. But she can't do that if she's hiding away from the undercity."

Vi scoffed, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes. "And you think throwing her out into the streets is the solution? She's barely been here four days, Vander. She doesn't know the first thing about surviving in this world."

Vander leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "That's why she needs your guidance, Vi. You know these streets better than anyone. Teach her what she needs to know."

Vi shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "Why does it always have to be my responsibility? I didn't sign up to be her babysitter."

Vander's tone remained firm, his patience wearing thin. "You're not her babysitter, Vi. You're her mentor. And it's your duty to ensure that she's prepared for...well, all the shady business I know you involve yourself in."

Vi bristled at the implication, her defenses rising. "And what if she can't handle it, huh? What if she gets hurt, or killed?"

Vander paused, his gaze meeting Vi's with a sense of gravity. "Then you will have failed as her teacher."

Vi's shoulders tensed at the weight of Vander's words, but she knew he was right. And maybe it was the fact she thought agreeing would get her a quick shot, or maybe it was the guilt that still twisted her stomach, but with a reluctant nod, she conceded, "Alright, I'll be her mentor- or whatever."

Vander's expression softened at Vi's reluctant agreement, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "Atta girl," he said, his voice gentle yet filled with conviction.

Vi rolled her eyes slightly and pushed herself off the barstool, suddenly feeling very tired. But as she turned to head off, ready to take on the responsibility thrust upon her, Vander called after her softly, his voice carrying a depth that hinted at something more beneath the surface. "Vi."

She turned back to face him, her expression expectant, awaiting his next instruction.

Vander's eyes held a hint of warmth as he spoke, his tone gentle yet filled with meaning. "Take care of her out there. And take care of yourself too."

Vi's brow furrowed slightly. She couldn't quite grasp the full meaning behind Vander's words (yet), but she nodded nonetheless.. "Yeah, yeah, I will."

As Vi made her way back downstairs to bed, Vander couldn't help but watch her go with a mixture of admiration and concern. He had known Vi for a long time, and had seen her grow from a reckless street rat into the slightly older reckless street rat she was today. And while he had no doubt in her abilities, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

For in Vi, he saw a kindred spirit, someone who had faced the trials and tribulations of the undercity with a courage and determination that few could match. And yet, despite all her strength and resilience, there was a vulnerability to her that Vander couldn't ignore. A part of her that still longed for connection, for understanding.

And one story beneath him, curled up on a dusty old couch, a gold streak haired girl felt the same longing. The same need for connection, for understanding.