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A tall, armored figure stands atop a building in the middle level of Zaun. A ragged cloak flutters in one of the ever-present drafts. Bright eyes set in a metal mask glow in the smog, the same color as the light that shimmers through the cracks of his exposed inhuman arm, and a deadly blood-tainted staff help in his other, gloved hand.
The figure bends down and picks up a struggling body from the rooftop with his inhuman arm. The person squirms and begs, pleading for his life through bloody teeth. The armored figure walks closer and closer to the edge of the roof, to being seen, places a foot on the cracked, short wall, and throws the screaming Shimmer distributor over the edge of the building.
A camera shutter clicks.
Fifty-three days after the figure appeared in Zaun, the first picture of The Herald is distributed across both Piltover and Zaun through the newspaper.
Viktor trudges through the streets of Zaun, forcing himself to keep from shivering.
It’s been almost two months since he left Piltover. Since then, he’s only found Jinx once and it was only after their fight, which ended in a draw with Jinx covered in burns from concentrated energy bursts released from his hand and Viktor covered in bruises that he decided to listen to the Hexcore and buy and modify armor that can connect with the Hexcore and give himself more height, bulk, and durability.
It’s been a month since Jayce was released from the hospital, something he read in the paper. Against Viktor’s wishes, Jayce is also in Zaun, roughly on Viktor’s tail, and he’s joined with Caitlyn and some Zaun brawler. He thinks he might be taller than Jayce in this armor.
Viktor’s heart twists and he can’t help but think about his husband. He wants so badly to go to him and hold him, for Jayce to hold him, for them to hold each other and ignore the violence and pain and the rest of the world and just exist .
But Viktor didn’t go to Hell so he and Jayce could meet now; no- he needs to keep Jayce safe. Jayce has always been taking care of Viktor and now that Viktor is slowly gaining muscle mass and agility that his condition had prevented him from gaining he can now take care of Jayce instead. If that means covering the streets in blood, ripping flesh off in chunks, then so be it. If he has to turn himself into a monster that people both fear and welcome so Jayce can never come close to death again then he’ll gladly sit on a throne of skull and bone.
But right now, there’s too much guilt and sadness weighing on Viktor’s mind. The Hexcore has happily gone silent, leaving Viktor alone to think about the people he’s killed, the fathers and mothers he’s robbed from families.
Family…
That’s why he’s in this part of Zaun. He hasn’t seen his family since he left Zaun- they told him to not come back because all his life he’d just been growing weaker and weaker and going from clean air to Zaun would’ve been…terrible. But there’s also the fact that his family is selfless and they wanted Viktor to prosper without anything weighing him down. He invited them to his wedding, of course, and he swears he saw his mother’s signature bright red hair in the crowd as Jayce walked down the aisle with the glittering tail of his jacket trailing after him.
He can’t go back to Jayce. He can’t go to the few friends he made in Piltover. For the first time since he was a child, he’s craving a familial touch, a soothing motherly hand in his hair, the smell of his father’s Freljord cuisine.
Viktor stands in front of his childhood home, a smallish abode near the edge of this district and a minute’s walk from a hidden trail that leads through the upper level and to a peaceful river area in Piltover. Curtains are drawn over the windows but warm light still shines through and Viktor shivers more. Rain pours down on him, making him shiver even more. He raises his metal fist-
It’s Arcane, not metal the Hexcore scoffs before laying dormant again.
“Shut up,” Viktor mutters. He’s close enough to hear the life inside the house: his father’s warm timber, his mom ranting about something. The voice of his aunt, uncle, and cousin are harder to make out but he manages to confirm that nobody in his family has passed while he was gone. He collapses the staff, making sure the laser and the blade at the end have properly retracted before sliding it through a strap on his upper thigh. Now you’re getting nervous Viktor berates himself, hands-free to fiddle with the blood-stained edges of Jayce’s cloak and adjust the sleek faulds so they rest properly. He runs a hand through his hair, patting the wet strands down, and then forces himself to know: three short knocks, a two-second pause, and then two quick knocks that always feels awkward to him. All at once, the conversation in the house stops. And then footsteps, louder and louder as they come closer and closer to the door.
Viktor doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s stupid, isn’t it? He quickly folds his arms behind his back, then in front of him, but in the end, awkwardly dangles them because of course he can deal with complex machinery but not with a simple social meeting-
The door opens.
Viktor’s father stands there, Freljord-pale skin covered in more scars from his work in the chem factories. His white hair has grown long, two small bundles of his hair neatly braided and framing his face while the rest of his hair rests down his back, ending at his wait. Eyes identical to Viktor’s meet his and what he finds the most different is the fact that his father has a chemtech prosthetic arm that now has a retractable blade pointed at Viktor’s face.
“Who’re you?” His father growls and Viktor has to force himself not to step back and run away. He swallows and folds his hands together behind his back. Viktor is slightly happy to see that he’s the same height as his dad in the armor. Over his dad’s shoulder, he can see his cousin and his mom. They too have aged well and haven’t physically changed as much as his dad has.
“Дядя,” his cousin gasps, and she suddenly has a shotgun in her hands. “That’s the Herald!” Before Viktor can reveal himself and fully revel in the sound of another with the same accent as him, a bullet collides with his face right after his father’s leg kicks his chest. The Hexcore mask sparks as the bullet bounces off but the kick sends Viktor through the air. He twists and slides against the ground, digging his Arcane fingers through the mud so he doesn’t slip. His father is on him again, prosthetic gleaming green as it writhes with energy.
“Shit” Viktor mutters as the fist collides with his face. The Hexcore mask stays on but it presses against his face, distributing the force of the blow so that more of his face bruises, great. Viktor takes another hit before he lets the Hexcore help control his body, kicking his father’s legs from under him. He pulls at his dad’s prosthetic arm and easily finds the hidden control panel, flicking it open with a press and deactivating the chemical flow.
“Pappa, all I want to do is catch up,” Viktor sighs with a hand still on his father’s arm. Orange gold eyes widen.
“ Vitya?”
Viktor tries to ignore the open stares the rest of his family gives him as his father, the man responsible for his love of inventing, happily gives him a cup of tea before sitting next to him on the couch, pressing up next to him and slinging an arm over his shoulders.
Viktor has taken the Hexcore off, the mask morphing into a metal glove over his Arcane hand. He’s already taken his other glove off, human hand savoring the warmth of the cup and ring finally free to be seen again.
His mom is the next to fold, taking the narrow area of the couch on Viktor’s other side. She’s a naturally reserved person, a product of immigrating to Zaun when she was barely a child, but there’s a large smile on her worn face.
“Viktor, you’ve grown tall!” His uncle, his mom’s brother, booms, ruffling his wet hair with a towel so it dries faster.
“It’s actually the armor- I can assure you I’m much shorter than this.”
“Will ya be staying the night?”
“...if you’ll have me, then please.”
“Oh, talking all fancily now, aren’t ya?”
“I’ve simply learned grammar when gone, uncle.”
That night, he takes off his armor and puts on the bigger of his old clothes. His mom cries when she sees him walking without a limp, crutch, or cane. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to take the spinal implants but that’s all right. His cousin fawns over the dark Arcane replacements of his limbs, threaded with glows the color of his eyes. Dinner is delicious and warm and messy in a way Piltovans could never be.
His mom congratulates him on his wedding as they do the dishes together, saying how Jayce looks like a kind person and he better be treating Viktor nicely. She kisses his forehead and tells him that he can always come home- he’s always welcome, no matter what he does. The next morning, she sees him off with a satchel of food and a final hug. He leaves his address in Piltover and his signature so they can come to visit him…if he manages to return to his old life, somehow.
“Son!” Viktor stops walking. His father runs to him, half-dressed for work, and tackles him in a hug. “Remember to stay safe and alive, all right? And….I hope you achieve what you’re trying to do, Vitya.” He kisses the mask’s forehead and Viktor senses the moment the Hexcore accepts his family. “You’ll rise above them like you always do- make them remember you and get your loverboy back.
“I’ll never know if you’ll run into it but there’s a wolf on the streets of Zaun. Stay safe, my boy.”
Saying Jayce has become a little depressed is an understatement.
It’s been almost a month of weaving through Zaun and a few neighboring cities. He’s gotten to know Caitlyn and Vi better and even though there are nights he wishes the inn/motel/hotel walls weren’t as thin as they are, he wouldn’t want to have anyone else at his side, except for Viktor.
Zaun isn’t a terrible place, per se. Jayce hasn’t made a name for himself in the Under City as much as Viktor has as the Herald, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who recognize him. The people they run into recognize Vi as she’s been helping to keep Zaun together after they gained their independence. Caitlyn has also been helping keep things in check in both Piltover and Zaun, giving criminals someone to talk to and suggest how to change rather than being sent to prison. Vi is simply known as Vi but Caitlyn has been affectionately titled simply as Enforcer.
And does Jayce fucking get? Angel . Because of Vi and Caitlyn being evil and annoying and trying to make his life even more miserable than it already is . It’s not his fault he tries to keep good hygiene while down here! He’s not even wearing any white except for his shirt! He’s wearing a black coat for the gods' sake so why does he get a pathetic name like that? And gods, hearing children calling him Angel when he’s trying to look all intimidating while protecting them from robbers with his hammer makes him want to melt at how cute and relatively innocent they are while also wanting to bash his head with his hammer because it’s so embarrassing . He has a hammer! The hammer can kill people- it has! And here they are, giving him a name that he doesn’t like because he doesn’t deserve it.
He’s killed a child with the same weapon in his hands. When he uses his hammer, it’s like something comes over him. He loses himself. And he loses himself more every day, hitting harder and harder, watching the white and blue crust with red, and yet they keep on calling him an Angel -
It’s a miracle Vi and Caitlyn haven’t pointed out that he’s been leaving more and more people behind them with serious injuries. He thinks about Viktor’s hand and leg, of the picture in the paper of the Herald with an arm that only looks human in shape.
Zaun’s condition also doesn’t help. It all looks the same, and even though there are people who look happy there are people who look so sad, so devoid of hope. Beggars, deformed people, drunkards, and people looking for another hit no matter what it’d cost them. It’s so sad but both Vi and Caitlyn look used to it. The Shimmer victims are the worst- in his mind, all of them is the child he killed. At night, he has developed the habit of sleeping curled around something, be it a pillow, his travel bag, his bundled up cloak, just so he can feel less lonely and if he starts screaming because of a nightmare, he can bury his face in it and muffle the noise so he doesn’t bother Vi or Caitlyn.
Long story short Jayce has screwed up his life. He wasn’t so focused on power and Piltover then the barricade never would have happened, then the attacks never would have happened, then the explosion and Viktor leaving because he felt like he had to protect Jayce never would have happened and Jayce wouldn’t be this deceitful person with a poisoned heart.
So Jayce isn’t okay. All he can hope for is that wherever Viktor is this isn’t getting to him like it’s getting to Jayce.
Jayce rolls over on the floor, staring up at the rotting ceiling. Their stay for the night is an abandoned building. Most of the rooms in the place aren’t habitable so Vi and Caitlyn are downstairs while Jayce gets the only safe room on the upper floor. Which is good. He’s gotten used to laying on hard surfaces with his cloak used as a blanket and his bag to curl around. His mind is so weak - Viktor is killing people, people whose deaths Jayce is hypocritically fine with because whatever Viktor does will always be right. Is Viktor affected by his spree? Jayce doesn’t think so. Is Jayce affected by just swinging his hammer? Absolutely. An endless cycle of thinking about how Viktor is deservedly better than him.
Jayce stares at the ring on his finger and hopes that wherever Viktor is he’s still got his ring on him.
He just wants to find Viktor and go back to how things were before. Jayce closes his eyes against the tears. He can feel the hammer pressing against his back from where it rests next to him. He closes his eyes and forces himself to fall asleep.
The soft blue light of the hammer momentarily pulses purple.
Even though it's getting pretty annoying that people are starting to treat him like some sort of deity, the innocents are still the light in Viktor’s hunt.
Every day, he always has someplace comfortable to stay, food that is good and has his privacy respected. He earns a bit of cash at the medical centers he stops at in the mornings, where they’ve gathered metal in hopes of his arrival so he can easily make non-chemtech reliant prosthetics or do prosthetic repairs for the people who need it. Sadly, many of his patients for the prosthetic installations are children- they’re the only ones who are small enough to fit in the small drilled tunnels in the mines and make them larger so the adults can start finding and extracting ores. He thinks about the Atlas Gauntlets, a prototype to be presented then manufactured for Zaunites to use in the mines.
The past is the past he reminds himself as he walks to the medical center he’s been visiting the past three days. Today he’s going to finish showing some of the medics how to assemble simple prosthetics from old parts while showing the rest how to properly graft them to skin and connect it to the nervous system-
All that’s left of the medical center is rubble. Sitting at the top of the pile is-
“ Jinx” Viktor snarls.
He remembers the rage when he found out that it was Jinx responsible for Jayce’s comatose state and the deaths of so many. He remembers waiting in the Academy’s hospital wing’s lobby for the doctors to get back to him about Jayce when a roughed-up Zaunite called Vi barged in carrying Caitlyn Kiramman in her arms, calling for a doctor while the long-haired girl simply looked annoyed and scared.
It’s from Caitlyn that he learned that it was Jinx as they cried over those who had been lost and those who could be lost.
Jinx stares at him, a lost look on her face before a too-wide forced smile makes its way onto her face. She smiles and cocks a hip, placing a hand on it while spinning a gun in the other.
“Well, would ya look at that,” Jinx grins. “Ya haven’t left yet.” She presses something on the gun and it starts to glow, charging up. Viktor doesn’t hesitate to draw his staff and expand it with a shake, the laser activating. His arm glows and he points it at Jinx, his anger the Hexcore’s anger, and shoots just as Jinx pulls the trigger with a clean stop of the gun’s circular motion.
A fight is what they’re both looking for. Loss is what brought them here.
The collision of the blaster and the Arcane energy blast shake the surrounding buildings. Viktor grits his teeth under the mask and bares his teeth before charging.
Jinx keeps on shooting, laughing, and throwing out taunts as Viktor lets the Hexcore help him. Everything except for Jinx is gone. He swings his staff, the enhanced weapon easily absorbing each of Jinx’s shots. He’s not as foolish and amateurish as he was when he last faced her off- he has the experience now. He’s used to having blood on his hands and it doesn’t bother him nearly as much as he should; the deaths were deserved and he had a purpose. Jinx blew up people for the fun of it .
But Viktor would also be lying if he said he never had fun with his kills. Some of them really deserved in, as in they did things that should disqualify them as being human. Death is natural- it is the only constant in life. Making some people experience it fast sooner than others is their fault alone. Some people call Viktor the Machine Herald because of his tech-like appearance but if one were to go by definition and observation, then the Herald of Death would be more appropriate in his opinion.
“I know you can do better hon,” Jinx grins, flipping over Viktor and kicking his back. Viktor bends low and turns, throwing himself to tackle Jinx.
“Same” Viktor grins back.
Jinx’s hand scrapes against rubble and bleeds. Viktor grins as he’s thrown off, rolling onto his feet. This is fun.
His second fight with Jinx ends much better than the first, with him breaking her wrist and stealing the shark-shaped gun on her back with the stabilized Hextech orb in it. Viktor isn’t left unscratched, with an aching back and a blaster burn in his shoulder from a lucky shot that made it between a kink in the armor.
Viktor doesn’t know why he did it but as complete sadness and despair appeared on Jinx’s face after Viktor took the gun with the orb that is his and Jayce’s, something in him shifts. That look on her face…it was like the gun is more than just a gun that most likely leveled the council chamber. It’s something that means something else to her. He remembers the detail that Caitlyn and Vi had given him of that day as he watched over Jayce in the hospital. The gun is probably all she has, now that he thinks of it. It’s a reminder. Part of her life ended that day too. And maybe it’s because of Viktor’s kind heart or his sympathy for Zaunites but he gave her an offer:
“Find me in three weeks if you still want this,” he had said while gently shaking the large gun. “You should be fine by then. We will not be fighting.” She’s no more than a kid. “We’ll talk about something that could help both of us.”
Jinx had opened her mouth, as if she’d wanted to say something, but was quick to close it and nod.
After Jinx left, Viktor stares at the rubble and mourns the people who were killed. He adjust the cloak, grimacing at how much dirtier it has become, before pulling the hood up and walking past the rubble and in the direction of a small drug lab a tip told him about.
He has two weeks to do what he can. After that, he has to make a choice:
To keep on going or to accept and end this. To keep on having to walk through blood or to shake the hand of the only person he hates so he can go back to the one he loves.
Fear gripes at his heart when he finds himself considering the first option.