Chapter Text
“You’re late,” Viktor said instead of a greeting when he opened the door to his apartment and laid his hand on its pale wooden frame.
Jayce, standing at the opposite end of the door, grimaced. “I know. I was held up.”
Viktor held his eyes for a few more seconds before he stepped forward and over the threshold, moving his hand from the doorframe to close it behind him. Jayce stepped to the side to let him through.
Neither of them said anything more as they left the house. The cold night air hit Viktor’s face as soon as they stepped out of the front door, and he shuddered, tugging his cap lower. If Jayce noticed the goosebumps on his neck, he didn’t say so.
The sound of their shoes on the stone tiles echoed off the narrow streets as they made their way towards the bridge, mixed with the odd tap of Viktor’s cane. It sounded loud in his ears, too loud for the secret errand they were supposed to be on.
‘Oh well’, he thought and looked at the ragged hat on Jayce’s head matching his own, ‘at least their outfits were appropriate.’
Unfortunately, they didn't appear to be the only ones out at this hour. Multiple times during their trip, Jayce had to hide his face from the crowd, passing by them or standing before pubs. It was more of a precaution than anything else, however. Viktor guessed most of them were far too drunk to recognize either of them and so he did nothing to conceal himself. He counted on the fact that switching out his trademark cane—the most recognizable thing about himself—for another had been enough to do the trick.
He mustered it as they passed an inn, its brick walls doing little to dampen the sound of music and wild laughter. The wood of his cane was solid and smooth beneath his palm, only broken by the occasional dent. But Viktor knew the wood was hollow beneath his hand, and that a sharp blade was sitting there, fixed to the top of the cane and waiting for Viktor to open it up with a pull on its handle. The blade made the cane heavier than he was used to, but it was a reassuring weight as they made their way further towards the Undercity.
Before long, they made their way out of the main city, only a short staircase separating them and the bridge. Viktor sighed as he stepped down slowly, with his good leg first, his eyes set onto the ground below him. “Remind me again why I am doing this,” he grumbled, left hand clenched painfully around the railing. “We should have just sent someone else.”
He glanced back at Jayce and saw that he was looking up into the cloudy sky above them, following in a relaxed step and with both hands burrowed deeply into the pockets of his jacket. “Didn’t you say you knew the owner of the shop? We’re perfectly equipped,” he said, and looked over at Viktor with a wide smile on his face. “And anyway, this is too important for anyone else to handle. I guess we could’ve sent Sky, but I haven’t seen her around the last few days.”
Viktor said nothing to that, instead glancing back down onto the stairs. Considering he was supposed to be a terminally ill patient, he thought that this explanation seemed rather lackluster, but he said nothing. He didn’t feel terminally ill after all—not since the last few days—and he wasn’t certain he looked it.
His leg didn’t hurt the slightest once they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and frowned at it on the way over to the barrier, unsure whether he should give credits to their slow pace, or rather—more probably—the other, recent improvement of his health. His body did seem to be in a rather unusually good shape, even now, multiple days after the experiment, and it made him uneasy.
The guards on the bridge didn’t recognize them, which Viktor takes as a sign that their disguises worked the way they intended. It was only after Jayce took his hat down, the fingers pressing it to his chest clenched, that they realized whom they were speaking to, and opened the barricade for them.
Jayce thanked them politely, like the model boy that he was, and Viktor rolled his eyes at him. A nod was the only thing he himself offered the guards, as Jayce bid them goodbye and followed after Viktor. The flashlights positioned on the bridge cast their shadows long as they crossed it, Viktor’s instincts itching at the thought of being this visible, this out in the open. Just one more reason for him to hate Jayce’s barricade.
He exhaled deeply when they finally arrived at the other end of the bridge and slipped out of the light’s reach and into the shadows of the Undercity.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Jayce asked after Viktor turned back out of the fourth alleyway within a few minutes, and continued trudging behind him carefully. The cane was loud against the stones as Viktor hurried down the streets, wrinkling his nose at nearby rubbish.
“Not quite.” He clicked his tongue at yet another dead end. “But I know it is somewhere around here.”
“What is?”
Viktor didn’t answer. Instead, he turned into a side alley, his eyes springing around wildly for any familiar signs. Behind him, Jayce led out a loud curse, and Viktor turned around to shoot him a glare. “Stop that. We have to be quiet around here.”
Jayce had a scowl on his face when he looked up. “I know, I know. I just hit my foot into some street sign.” He reached down and touched his ankle, grimacing. “Those have no business lying around on the ground, really.”
Viktor’s eyes widened, and he hastened back to Jayce. “A street sign, you said?” he asked, stopping next to Jayce and looking around wildly. “Where is it?”
“There,” he said, gesturing towards the ground a few steps back. And indeed, there it was, hidden beneath rubbish: a dark chromed metal sign with faded blue marks on it that would look like gibberish to a Piltie.
But not to Viktor.
He picked it up from the floor, cane leaned against the wall next to him, and mustered the inscriptions. It had been a while since he’d last seen those marks, after all, and the gears in his head were rusty. Just as his leg began to ache, it clicked in his head and he looked up from the sign.
“That way.” He pointed to a turn and let the street sign fall back down onto the ground. Taking his cane off the wall, he walked away, letting Jace follow warily behind him.
“Are you sure?” he called out as Viktor stepped into an abandoned house, the rusty hinges of the door creaking. He didn’t answer, too busy with mapping the whole thing out in his head. There, on the wall opposite to the crumbling staircase, was supposed to be a lever. He stopped there, standing before the wall next to the entryway, and mustered it with narrowed eyes. Behind him, he could hear the floor creak from where Jayce was walking around the room.
“Could you move this out of the way, please?”
Jayce stepped forward to the splintered wooden trunk and pushed it away without complaint, although frowning heavily. At once, a smooth metal lever came into view and Viktor couldn’t help smiling at its sight. He still had it in him to crack the Undercity’s codes.
“It’s a bit messier than the more frequented entries,” he said as he pulled the lever down and the wooden floor beside him sprung open, an elevator rising from it. The lamp inside it flickered on. “But that also means we’re not likely to stumble into anyone. A small price to pay, eh?”
He stepped inside it without delay, the smooth metal contrasting jarringly with the run-down building surrounding it. Jayce followed after him, stepping inside the elevator with a wary look on his face. Viktor rolled his eyes at him and stepped back, shoulder pressing against the cold steel.
The bright green light from the lamp above them was the only light source they had as Viktor pulled the door closed and the elevator sunk back into the ground. It was a narrow one, much narrower than the ones Viktor knew from his childhood. He couldn't tell if it was just different from the ones he was used to, or if the size ratio he had as a child deceived him.
Either way, it was narrow inside the elevator. The metal seeping through his shirt seemed much colder when Jace’s arm pressed against his, and Viktor glanced away from him pointedly, waiting for the elevator to stop. He watched the lamp hanging down from the ceiling for a few, long minutes, the bright light stinging his eyes. It swayed when the elevator finally stopped, the green light dancing on the steel walls surrounding them.
Jace reached to open the door, but Viktor stopped him. “Take a deep breath first. The first few minutes will not be pleasant.”
He nodded, and Viktor could see him take a deep breath before he pushed the door open and stepped out.
At once, steam hit their faces, along with a heavy, and all too familiar smell. Viktor managed the first few steps down a winding path surrounded by forges, Jayce coughing beside him, before a cloud of smoke streamed out of a pipe and right into their faces. There, even Viktor couldn’t suppress the coughs, and had to squeeze his eyes shut and let Jayce drag him away from the stream of smoke. “I forgot about the factories,” he said, taking a few deep breaths.
From then on, even the normal, polluted air of the Undercity hurt his throat, and Viktor cursed his lungs, now long adjusted to the clean Piltover air. Still coughing, he leaned himself against a wall and tried to take a few deep breaths.
The moss growing out from the bricks was wet beneath his hands, just like his hair, which he brushed back. “Come on,” he called to Jayce, pushing himself off the wall.
“Do you know this area?” Jayce asked after the first few steps, and Viktor saw him mustering the factories curiously.
Viktor glanced around as well, though rather for caution than curiosity. “Difficult to say with all this steam,” he answered, shooting the dark paths between the buildings with a wary glance. “And I know there are multiple factories in the Undercity, so… that does not help. But, eh, it is safe to say that we’re not in the main city yet. There would be more people around.”
“And how do we get into the main city?”
There, Viktor chuckled, catching Jayce’s eyes with a sharp smile on his face. “We just follow the steam.”
His throat itched horribly by the time they got to the main city, streets now bustling with people. Chemical lamps burned behind colored glass, filling the air with familiar, bright light. It reflected off the rough steel plates fixed all over buildings like crude bandaids slapped onto broken skin. When he glanced over at Jayce, watching him muster the passerby curiously, the lights painted him in bright, vibrant colors and made his jaw look even sharper than normal.
Viktor leaned closer, his leg aching at the action. “Stop staring at them. You’ll attract attention,” he whispered in his ear, and chuckled. “It is a mystery to me how you walked down here and always got away without a scratch."
“It’s the clothing,” Jayce whispered back, and Viktor saw he was smiling. “I was wearing the Academy uniform.”
“That makes it even worse.”
Jayce’s chuckle was loud right next to Viktors’ ear. “I guess it kept them off?” he paused, and Viktor glanced over at him, breath stuck in his burning throat. Now that he was so close to his face, Jayce’s eyes seemed all the brighter. There, looking at the polluted and corrupted city and its people, Jayce looked fascinated. “But I can’t help staring,” Jayce paused, eyes set on the crowd, “These people down here, they’re just so…”
“Different?” Viktor replied, looking away from Jayce and over at the people with flashy clothes and random metal poking out of their skin. A few of them wore masks, those Viktor assumed were either like him, people who’d grown used to the Piltover air, or those who thought themselves superior for the heavy, polluted air. But that was only a small percentage of them. Most of the passerby wore no masks, but rather metal limbs or transparent tubes with thick liquids bubbling inside.
Yes, he supposed, compared to the citizens of Piltover with their proper, muted clothing, they would look strange to anyone.
“It’s a form of expressing themselves,” he elaborated, copying Jayce’s quiet tone and leaning away from Jayce. “Of differentiating themselves from Piltover and the other cities. Even so, stop staring at them.”
Jayce hummed in agreement, eyes still on the crowd, and shot him a glare, hitting his arm with his cane. Jayce yelped and finally succeeded in tearing his eyes away. Viktor rolled his eyes at him and looked out into the city.
The steam had ceased blocking the view now that they were out in the main city, which may be because of the big opening far above them where the stone opened up into a chasm.
The houses were built around it, tethered to the rock, and stacked up onto each other. Wedged between them were the workshops, bars, and forges, each with their own lights because no one paid for easily broken street lanterns and the overground somewhere far, far above them, visible only through the opening of the chasm the city was built around.
Slowly, Viktor and Jayce made their way to the other end of the main city, where Viktor knew to find a staircase leading to the shop they were searching for. It was an arduous trip, one on which he had to remind Jayce multiple times not to meet other people’s eyes, no matter how much they were staring at them. Even though it might not seem that way to Jayce, the people around here were quick-minded enough to recognize him, even though it was absurd for Piltover’s shining boy to be down here, in this polluted, dirty city.
So it was only with a lowered head that they would make their way safely through this mad mission. And he would make sure Jayce kept his head lowered.
The tap of Viktor’s cane was muted against the ground, muffled by puddles and plants poking out between the tiles, colorful splatters of green and violet next to the grey stone tiles.
Really, for a city so technological and metallic, there were a lot of colors here—the inhabitants themselves, the lights made by them, and the plants growing from beneath steel and rock. It seemed that even in this city, marred by acid and smoke, living things still found a way to grow.
The puddles became larger the further they walked, and drops were falling down onto them when they finally arrived at the staircase. Not for the first time that day, Viktor cursed both steam and stairs, but now he realized that the combination of the two was even worse.
As always, Jayce was following close behind him, and Viktor knew without looking back that he had his hand stretched out, ready in case Viktor slipped. Half way down the stairs, Viktor's shoes skidded slightly in the puddles on the stairs and he caught himself on the railing with his heart racing. He grudgingly accepted the necessity of the notion.
“You have to be on your best behavior now,” Viktor said, taking the final steps of the staircase. Then, at last, he felt the rough stone tiles beneath his feet and exhaled deeply. Smooth treads were the bane of his existence, both in the Undercity and in Piltover.
“I’m always on my best behavior.”
Viktor snorted. “Are we talking about the same person? The man who conducted illegal experiments right under a counselor’s nose? Down here you could break, eh, about two dozen rules just by looking wrong. That is trouble I’m not interested in getting into.”
“Says the one who helped me continue those illegal experiments,” he grumbled and stopped beside Viktor, who had stopped to orient himself. A lot had changed since he’d last been down here.
“Not my point,” Viktor smiled and continued walking in the approximate direction of the shop. “What I’m trying to say is, be careful around here. We’re not in the main city anymore now.”
Jayce glanced down at himself, “I thought you’d said these disguises were sufficient.”
“Sufficient to not be mugged the minute we stepped foot into the Undercity, yes.” Viktor rolled his eyes. “Down the lower levels, you’d get killed for looking as rich as you do, even with these ragged scarves on.”
He shot Viktor a wide-eyed glance. “And how low are we going?”
“Eh, this area should be relatively safe. Otherwise, I would never have agreed. Just be on your best behavior, and we should be fine.”
Jayce nodded and continued walking with his shoulder lowered, as Viktor had told him to do earlier. Quietly, he asked, “Safe from whom?”
“Well,” Viktor began in the same soft tone, “Silco’s men, for one, but you knew that already. Those generally stick to the upper levels. And otherwise, eh, there’s the random thugs, which you should deal with easily enough,” He paused to look around, before leading them into another street. “I think the most dangerous ones are the gangs. I’ve heard they’ve been getting more violent recently.”
Jayce hummed and went quiet. Viktor took a few deep breaths, his throat still itching, and looked around. The streets weren’t as bustling as in the main level above, but there were still people around.
Their clothes were more dirty and ragged, even more than the ones from the level above. Some watched the street from the alleys and dimly lit stores, and Viktor had to keep to his own advice and look away quickly. Some of the passersby coughed, and others smoked, blowing fumes from strange cigars that smelled like tar when the smoke blew into Viktor’s face.
The occasional shimmer trafficker passed them as well. Viktor had never seen those before, but he recognized them immediately. The liquids blubbering inside their vials was the same color as the one he’d gotten from the Doctor, and Viktor gulped, finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the bubbles gushing in time with the traffickers' steps.
He glanced over at Jayce, hoping that he hadn’t caught him staring at the Shimmer, and saw him muster the people as well—though in a much more reserved manner than before. Good. “Have things always been this way?” he whispered, leaning closer. Viktor followed his gaze, and spotted a shimmer addict sitting at the side of the road, his neck swollen and purple veins stretched tightly over the skin.
Would he too end like this if he kept experimenting with Shimmer?
“It was never this bad in the past,” he said at last, forcing the thoughts away. “No, er, I suppose it got worse after Vander’s death.”
"Who?" asked Jayce in a curious tone that felt like a punch in the gut.
Of course Jayce wouldn’t know about Vander, having been a common citizen of Piltover only until a few months back. Of course, he wouldn’t have the slightest clue who Vander was, even though the man had shaped countless lives down in the Undercity, Viktors included.
Who knew where he’d be today if Vander hadn’t prevented the soldiers from storming Zaun during his childhood, back before he’d gotten out of it.
“He’d been the one to keep the balance in the Undercity. Between Piltover and Silco’s men,” he answered in a soft voice. “He was killed by Silco some ten years ago.”
Jayce paused, glancing over at Viktor. “Did you know him?”
Viktor shook his head. “Never met him personally, although I’ve seen him once. My fath… Eh, I went into the main city one day and visited his bar. He’d looked surprisingly gentle.”
Jayce looked like he wanted to ask more, but Viktor fastened his steps and did not look back at him. His leg ached, blinding pain from his calf to his knee that made him slow down again. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have if he had attempted the same trip a few weeks earlier.
He’d kept the leg brace off as well, trusting the experiment to hold a few days more, but he now came to regret that decision. He couldn’t even do something as simple as controlling his own pace.
He sighed and leaned against a mural to catch his breath, the stones wet beneath his hands. Doing his best to stay attentive of their surroundings, he took a few deep breaths and continued walking, his eyes blurry from the bright light around them. If it came to the worst, he knew he could count on Jayce to keep an eye out—especially after their last conversation.
Sparks of broken light danced on their skin as they turned into another alley, a sharp smell of tar and acid filling Viktor’s nose. Traces of the liquids were also smeared onto the wall, next to crude graffiti and something that looked suspiciously like Shimmer and dried blood.
They even found a man passed out and slumped against the dirty wall, a bottle with bubbling blue liquid in his slack hand. His head hung low, and he would’ve seemed dead if it wasn’t for the loud snoring that came out of his mouth.
He watched Jayce step over him with his nose wrinkled. “Are you sure we’re right here?”
“It’s a shortcut,” Viktor said, and glanced out of the end of the alleyway. A few blocks away, he could see the people bustling on a more busy street, and the sounds of their voices could be heard even from where they were standing. “With no conscious men who could recognize you.”
They continued walking. Viktor knew that the shop they were searching for was somewhere past that street, next to the small, abandoned church with holes in the roof and shattered stained glass windows.
They had just moved past beneath a steel bridge, drops of foul-smelling water splattering down from it and hitting their hats when he saw a group of people turning from the busy street into theirs. Their backs were turned to the flashing lights of the street they were coming from, and so their faces were cast in dark shadows. Still, Viktor recognized them.
At once, he struck his hand out to grab the sleeve of Jayce’s coat and yanked them into another alley, the tap of his cane loud against the blood pounding in his ears. Jayce followed him silently, maybe noticing Viktor’s shallow breathing or the way his thin fingers clenched painfully in Jayce’s sleeve. But it didn’t really matter what he saw, not when Viktor was busy with hurrying them down the alley and away from the danger.
Only there—with the loud voices of the bustling street from before quiet and its vibrant lights only a small spot in the distance—did he find the breath to explain. “Silco’s men,” he breathed in a quiet tone, as if only that name would summon them back somehow. “A lot of them.”
“Shit,” Jayce said, and without looking back at him, Viktor could picture him running his hand through his hair. “Do you think they’ll still be there in a few minutes?”
“No idea.” Viktor took a deep breath. “But it’s best if we wait this out.”
He leaned against the dirty wall and glanced down at the garbage scattered on the ground and vaguely debated if sitting down into the dirt would be worth it. His leg had gone painfully numb during the hurry, and Viktor knew from experience that rest was the only remedy for that.
Jayce, however, shuffled about uncomfortably, and gestured towards the other end of the alley. “Where does this lead, then?”
“Too impatient to wait a few minutes, Talis?” He laughed, glancing up and meeting Jayce’s eyes. “But, unfortunately, I have no idea.”
“You want to find out?” Jayce retorted, a mischievous smile on his face. And really, Viktor couldn’t say no to that.
So they continued down the alley, past the rubbish and debris blocking their path. Viktor stepped over it all carefully, but brushes of rubbish against his numb leg couldn’t be avoided. He grimaced and vowed to change out of those pants as soon as he could. While Viktor was slowly making his way down the alley, struggling with his legs, Jayce went ahead, glancing out of the alleyway with his back pressed against the wall. Viktor thought he looked rather ridiculous.
“Be careful,” he called out as he hobbled on behind Jayce, stepping over rusted parts of metal. “We aren’t equipped enough to blend in with the people of this area.”
“Noted,” Jayce said and glanced back to meet Viktor’s eyes before they stepped out of the alleyway. It opened up to a small square with another run-down store wedged in one corner, and a pile of scrap metal in the other, a tar puddle beneath it. Viktor glanced up and away from Jayce, to look for any remarkable landmarks to help orientate himself.
“Jayce!” He called when he spotted the ropeway lift far behind them, little cabinets dandling between the chasm. “See that?” A dull thump sounded from somewhere behind him, and Viktor turned around as fast as his cane allowed. “It means our goal lies somewhere in the opposite dir…”
In front of him, Jayce laid collapsed to the ground, his face shoved against the filthy ground by someone pressing his shoe against the back of his head. Viktor blinked.
“Look who we have here,” he called out, and the thugs around him laughed. “A cripple and his unconscious friend.” He kicked against Jayce’s head and stepped forward, a mocking expression on his face. “Are you lost?” The mechanics wedged inside his arm, clicked, and he tilted his head. “Think you could spare some money?”
Viktor gulped and took a few slow steps back. “Money is in the pocket of his jacket, the upper left one,” he said with a nod to Jayce, glad his voice wasn’t shaking. Shame for the lost money, but Viktor knew that even with his modified cane, he could barely defend himself, let alone Jayce.
“Is that so?” he crooned and gave one of the three men behind him a sign. “How nice of you t’be cooperating so easily.”
He stepped closer, backing Viktor to a wall, and kicked his cane away. It slithered across the ground and landed on the pile of rusty metal parts Viktor had spotted earlier.
“But I’m’fraid you too have to go to sleep.” He said, foot settled on his chest, and lifted his arm. The metal of his arm glinted in the dim light of the city, and Viktor flinched. “No harsh feelings.”
Before he could strike, however, one of the others stopped him. “Wait a second, Cal,” she called out from where she was squatting next to Jayce, his silver wallet glinting in her hand. She was staring down at Jayce, mustering his face. “I think I know his buddy. He looks familiar.”
“He’s the one from Hextech!” another one said, and there, Cal turned over to face them. “Think he’d give some proper ransom?”
He shot Viktor a glance before lifting his leg off his chest and walking over to Jayce. “Oh wow,” he crooned, lifting Jayce’s face off the ground by the collar of his jacket. “Talis, isn’t it? Didn’t know we were hosting nobility.”
Viktor shot his cane a desperate glance, but it was laying too far away for him to reach. He’d have to walk to get there.
One of them lifted Jayce off the ground, with his head hanging down limply and his hair falling into his face, and Viktor knew he couldn’t just keep sitting there uselessly against the dirty wall, heart battering in his chest. He knew he couldn’t sit there and watch as they dragged Jayce away in those awful, tattered clothes, his body slack and his eyes closed, so unlike the Jayce Viktor knew—with his soft, clean clothing and watching out for him even if Viktor had told him not to.
So he pushed himself off the ground, sharp pain flashing up his leg, and just stood there a moment, leant with one hand on the wall and supporting his swaying feet. Eyes fixed on his cane, he hobbled over to it with small, fast steps, its dark wood blurring with the rusted parts of metal, and Viktor bent down to grab it off the pile.
There, with his back protesting sharply and his fingers grappling for the wooden cane, he was hit in his side, right below his back brace and thrown down onto the scrap pile.
His vision swam when he opened his eyes again, the man standing above him barely visible against the dim surroundings.
“No so fast, cripple,” Cal said, and set his foot back on Viktor’s stomach, a quiet threat. “Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself, would’ya? Go on,” he called to his men, “I want to have some fun with this one before I kill him.”
There, Cal shifted more weight onto his foot, pushing Viktor roughly against the metal pile, the parts stabbing into his back. His ears were ringing as he watched the men behind him lift Jayce off the ground again, his body balanced in the air by two of them. Of course, Viktor thought with despairing amusement, Jayce is too heavy for one man to carry.
Their figures were swimming before his eyes as he grasped for his cane in the scrap metal next to him—his hand moving as slowly as possible—and the oil and tar seeped into his clothing.
There, finally, his fingers found the smooth wood of his cane, and Viktor nearly smiled. He thumbed up along the wood, until he had the top of the cane in his hand, and pulled it out of the wood.
The men with Jayce were barely visible in the distance when Viktor pressed against Cal’s foot on his chest with all his might, and grabbed his foot with his strong, modified hand and forced it off. Then, praying that his leg would hold, he pushed himself roughly off the ground and into a surprised Cal, knocking them both to the ground.
He panted, holding the top part of his cane in his hand and pressing the sharp blade attached to it to Cal’s throat.
The men behind them had paused, Jace’s limp form still visible. “This is your jugular,” he said between breaths, and nicked the skin on Cal’s neck. “Cutting it would kill you. And that is exactly what will happen if you don’t let Jayce go.”
A drop of sweat ran down Viktor’s face as he watched Cal gulp. The dagger nicked his skin again. He held his eyes for a few heartbeats longer, until he finally gave in and called, “Put Talis down.”
From the corner of his eyes, Viktor saw them do it. “Tell them to leave,” he added, dagger still fixed to Cal’s throat. The men in the background hesitated.
“You’ve heard him,” he called, and Viktor saw them leave reluctantly, Jayce’s body laying in the middle of the square. The little lightbulbs of Cal’s metal arm flickered when Viktor looked back down, and he shifted more weight onto the leg, fixing it in place. It hurt. “So, what’ll you do to me? Kill me?”
"No," he said firmly, and before Cal could do anything else, Viktor elbowed him in the side of the head as hard as he could. "But I'm afraid you'll have to go to sleep."
He staggered away from Cal’s body as soon as his eyes had fluttered close, pushing himself off it with the blade of his cane cutting into the stone floor. He retrieved the rest of the cane from the pile of scrap metal and pushed it back onto the blade, hiding it from view again. Using it, he limped over to Jayce, his leg aching sharply every time he put too much weight onto it. He ignored it.
Groaning, he sat down next to Jayce and checked his pulse with greasy hands, the oil from the metal pile still sticking to them. His clothing probably looked just as filthy, sticking to Viktor’s skin. He tried not to think about it, still feeling the phantom pain of the metal parts stabbing into his back.
Comforted by the sound of Jayce’s steady breathing, he let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. They’d have to get moving again soon—Viktor wasn’t sure how long Cal would stay unconscious—but there wasn’t much he could do about that until Jayce woke up.
Inhaling sharply, he rolled the fabric of his trousers up and tried massaging the skin beneath. His leg gave off a pulsing violet light that grew dimmer as Viktor pressed his fingers to his stiff calf, like a stuttering light cut off from electricity. He could feel the muscles in his legs start to relax at the pressure, and he took a deep breath, the metallic air stinging in his throat. He let his arms fall limp and his shoulders sag back, staring at his hands that were shaking ever so slightly.
“Viktor?”
Hand frozen in the air, Viktor’s eyes shot up. He was met with the sight of Jayce, pushing himself off the ground with wobbly arms. He coughed, and Viktor pushed himself to his knees to lean forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”
There, Jayce looked over at Viktor. But not at his face, no, but at Viktor’s leg and violet skin visible beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his trousers. “Is that… Shimmer?”
His hand on Viktor’s shoulder froze, and Viktor pulled it away as if burned. With stuttering breaths, he rolled his trouser leg down as quickly as he could, as if that would erase the sight from Jayce’s memory. His heart battered in his chest as he pushed himself off the ground with his cane and said, “Not here. We have to get away as soon as possible.” There, he met Jayce’s eyes. “I promise I will explain, but not now. Not here.”
Jayce held his eyes a few moments longer, and Viktor had to suppress the urge to cower and walk away.
Because Jayce probably wouldn’t follow after him this time.
Then finally, Jayce nodded and stood up as well, swaying on his feet. “What happened to me?” he asked quietly, looking at Cal’s unconscious figure slumped on the floor next to them.
“Some thugs knocked you out and tried to kidnap you,” Viktor said without looking over at Jayce. “I stopped them.”
“Thank you.”
Viktor smiled gently to himself, because it was just so typical of Jayce—to thank someone, even in anger or hurt. “Come on. I think I know where the store is.”
The store was bright when they entered it, quite a contrast against the dark alleyways they were coming from. But if Jayce had learned one thing about the Undercity, it was that it was always bright, even at night. Well, he supposed that to them. It was the same either way—judging by how far away they lived from daylight.
The air inside the store isn’t any better, Jayce thought as he watched Viktor make his way to the counter and call for the shop owner, but at least there isn’t any smoke blowing in our faces.
He stayed behind at the front of the shop, like Viktor had told him to beforehand. It was one of the rules they’d established before the trip: don’t interact with anyone, don’t let anyone recognize you. In Viktor's mind, that had included even the shop owner.
Jayce had thought it was a bit overcautious at the time, but he got it now. The people down here differed from the ones from Piltover. That seemed obvious, but Jayce hadn’t fully realized it before they’d been attacked.
Sure, crimes happened in Piltover as well, but Jayce had grown up safe and protected. The idea of being actually involved in a crime had seemed unfathomable to him—well, until his workshop got robbed and blown up. But now he understood just how easily crimes happened in the Undercity, and he presumed the people had grown more cautious for that very reason.
His eyes passed unblinkingly over the objects arranged on the shelves, their shapes swimming before his eyes. His hands were clammy as he clasped them behind his back and walked around the shop to appear at least mildly interested and not like his brain was going up in flames behind his eyelids.
The soft, wooden floor creaked when Viktor walked over to him with his head bowed, putting his money away in the hidden pocket of his jacket.
“Did you get it?” Jayce asked as they made their way out of the door, the bell ringing above their heads. Viktor flashed the item at him—a bright blue vial of mutothyl, just as they asked—before he slipped it back into his pocket.
He met Viktor’s eyes and gave him a small smile that he hoped looked not too much like a grimace, before he stooped just outside the abandoned church that stood next to the shop, its tarnished glass windows smashed. Jayce mustered it for a moment, with its old, tattered and half-open door.
This wasn’t a sight he was used to from Piltover—abandoned buildings. Each and every last inch of space there was used up. For buildings, workshops, or even nice cobblestone paths. But then he stepped closer to it and saw a family of thin, striped cats sitting in one of its alcoves, their little heads snapping up at the sound of Jayce’s footsteps, and he decided that even abandoned buildings had their uses as well.
Smiling, he glanced away from the church, and glanced around, only to find himself standing there alone. Viktor?” he called, pacing frantically in front of the church. There, glancing inside the alleyway beside the church, he found Viktor, leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. “Viktor?” he repeated, stepping into the alleyway, and set a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. It trembled slightly. “Is everything alright?”
Viktor’s eyes flattered up, and he stared down at Jayce’s hand with a frown on his face.
There, in the dim light of the alleyway, Jayce noticed the bruises on his face—red, swollen patches of skin that resembled the one Jayce could feel on his own face. Had they been there before, or was the light making them seem worse?
But before he could think about it any more, Viktor looked up from Jayce’s hand and answered in a brittle voice, “I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. Do you want to head back?”
Jayce frowned. “To Piltover? Not in the state you’re in right now.”
“I said I’m fine,” Viktor said sharply, and looked away from him. Jayce could feel the trembles worsening.
“And I don’t believe it. Look, there’s nothing wrong with taking a bit of time to recover, even if it's down here. Honestly, I could do with a bit of a break as well.”
He watched Viktor glance up, as if spotting the dim sunlight somewhere in the chasm above, but when Jayce looked up, all he could see was darkness. It must still be night, then. His voice was shaking when he spoke. “But the lab, and the Council…”
“Can wait until tomorrow.” Jayce lifted his hand off Viktor’s shoulder. He could see Viktor lean down further against the wall, eyelids fluttering, and wondered if he even would be capable of stepping outside the alleyway by himself.
Really, he wasn’t sure what to feel right now. On the way to the shop it had been easy to follow behind Viktor, and listen to the heavy quiet hanging between the two of them, filled by the tap of Viktor’s cane and the silent, unasked questions that came with it, like ‘do you even need that anymore?’ or ‘was it all just an act?’. There, he’d felt justified in falling back into a bubble of anger and betrayal, following behind a Viktor he wasn’t so sure he knew anymore.
But now, standing in front of the fragile, trembling Viktor Jayce—who he had only seen in those calm, hazy mornings in the lab after working through the night—that bubble burst and familiar concern took its place.
Because what was most important right now was that they made it back home safely. They could talk about anything else afterwards, with a nice, hot cup of tea in both of their hands. “Come on, Vik,” he said, putting on his soft, caring voice he reserved for the instances when Viktor refused to take care of himself.
“I know a hotel nearby,” Viktor said hesitantly, and Jayce countered that by swinging his arm over Viktor’s shoulder and helped him up from the wall and out of the backstreet.
It was an act of support as much as it was a question of trust. Because, really, Viktor had always had a reason for the crazy things he’d done over the years—be it reckless experiments, new ideas, or lies he’d told the other councillors to get away from them.
Jayce just had to trust that he had one for this as well.