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The fabric of the water seems to fold the orange glow of the lampposts lining the docks.
The Piltover night, ever alive with stars, patterns the watery blanket of the bay in an ever shifting display. It’s entrancing. The man standing crooked on the shoreline wonders what the water would feel like pooling at his ankles, one surely would pick up the gentle caress of the waves and the chill of the water. The other… well that was an experiment for another day, if it ever came. Tonight there was already an experiment at hand.. or, err, at foot.
Enough delay.
Pulling his eyes from the waves Viktor glances up, craning his neck higher than his posture wants.
Maybe there is something up there that could give him answers to all the questions burning behind his tired eyes. But as much as he searches, as a man of science, he knows there’s nothing up there but dust, gas and endless space. The stars were never something he got used to- The undercity’s horizons are clotted by chemical pollution, power lines and industrial beams. But here in Piltover the sky is clear, alive, sparkling and clean just like the water that gently pushes the boats against the dock with a creak. This sky remains unfamiliar, and holds no answers for him, just more questions, and a bitter reminder of all of the differences between the worlds he’s come to know.
Growing up in the endless poverty of the undercity never bothered him until he came to Piltover. He came here to make something better only to discover that the road to those changes bore more talking than his lungs had air for, but he followed through. Determined to make something of the cards he was dealt. He wishes that he could go back to the last moment when he believed that everything was going to be okay. That isolated moment when the hex crystal was stabilized and they were.. weightless. When the glow of the crystal was beautiful and not calling to him to come back, sit make it work, break yourself so you can see a breakthrough. The weight has settled back in and doubled down. It’s suffocating. Viktor isn’t even sure where the pressure comes from he has no one at home to support or impress. It’s just him- well Jayce and Ms. Young yes of course, they spend a lot of time together making Hextech work, but despite the close quarters Viktor feels like they will never know the severity of their success. The feeling… of your body deteriorating everyday… there’s so much more at stake than fame and politics. There are people, people who don’t have time to wait for papers to get shuffled and hands to be raised.
So as much as he can, Viktor straightens his shoulders. His shoes and socks have long been toed off- his alive foot now almost numb from the cold, wet sand. His prosthetic feels nothing- motionless save the pulsing eerie glow of shimmer filled vines. The price he pays for such an ugly thing…
He gives it an experimental flex, the toes don’t shift but the ankle does. He rolls it around slowly in wonder before setting it back down on the ground. He leans forward, testing how it holds his weight, and when it doesn't crumble under him he finds himself exhaling- realizing he’d been holding his breath. And it still holds… so with abandon he steals a lungful of the night air, and lets his crutch… drop.
He staggers at first, never having experienced the need to correct his posture, or balance his weight- but he manages to roll his shoulders back and tighten his abdomen. Another shaky breath and he steps… and it holds. So he steps again, and then again. Walking on two feet. He lets a smile ghost over his lips, looking around in wonder, as if someone were watching. As if to say do you see me? But the only witness is a ship passing through the bay.
He thinks of a time, as a kid, when he built a toy ship out of scavenged cogs and bits of metal. It was a shock to behold his creation working, and a sorrow to see a little boat outpace him so easily. But watching the ship pass him now Viktor thinks that maybe he can finally catch it.
Again, laying more weight into the step, letting his shoulders propel his momentum into his legs. Again and again, each time picking up speed. And with a near stumble he pulls his face up and looks ahead- feeling the wind, feeling the strain in his stiff muscles as his body finds a rhythm between moving and breathing… and he runs. He straightens himself and he runs.
For the first time ever.
The faces of doctors, friends, coworkers- those looks of pity or disgust that have followed him since the day he crawled his way out of Zaun and to the steps of the academy- flash through his mind, the mental image of the toy boat rounding the corner and disappearing from sight, for Sky, for Jayce, for Heimerdinger, for the people who believed in him, and for the people he left behind, for them- he lets his legs propel him through the sand. And as he passes by the large ship to his right, he finds himself unable to contain the roar he lets loose.
….It’s only after he runs out of air- after his augmented leg hiccups and sends him flying into the sand on his hands and knees he lets himself cry. The exhilaration of this breakthrough leaves him so hollow… in the face of all the work that is left to be done. He needs so much more time, time he isn't sure he has.
Groveling in the gentle glow of the passing ship won't fix a thing, and yet here he is, and for a second he decides to let himself shift the weight off.
He’s just a man, an ambitious man who wants a better world, a better body, better odds… screw the science, the technology, the politics and pity ridden looks. He lets himself feel the anger, the unfairness… and it feels like something has finally snapped. But instead of flinching he leans into the hurt. Wipes his eyes and furrows his brow as he makes his way to his knees.
And as much as Viktor is sure that getting himself off the ground will hurt it is nothing compared to the pain he feels when he thinks about his city, sinking further, his people, wasting away in poverty, in sickness…. And so it’s a cold kind of hurt that fills the hollow of his chest. It’s spite that causes him to pull himself back to his feet and dust the sand off. It’s the thought of tomorrow that drags his monstrous body back to his crutch. And with one last glance to the ship… rounding the bend and disappearing from sight. Viktor squares his jaw and wonders if he will have to break more to breakthrough.
Mm an experiment for another time perhaps…