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“So…any luck?”
You look up from your desk to see Jayce standing in front of you, leaning against the doorway, and immediately scowl at him. “There is such a thing as knocking, Tallis.”
“I did. Five times,” he raises his eyebrow and smirks at you. “ You didn’t hear me.”
“And what barn were you raised in that you came in anyway?”
“The kind that when I hear you yell ‘ah fuck this goddamn fucking book’, it means I can come in.”
Right. You…had been more than a little frustrated with your research material. Well, perhaps you were due for a break, even if it came in the shape of Piltover’s Finest. You tuck your pencil behind your ear, set your book down, and raise your fingers to your nose, pinching the bridge. “Then since you’re here, repeat your question.”
He speaks slower, almost painfully. “Any luck with Viktor?”
One of these days, you are going to kill Jayce. His attitude will finally wear down the last scraps of patience that you have and you are going to beat him to death with his own hammer. Or maybe just throw him out of your office window and see how long it takes for him to hit the ground. Or maybe you’ll tell Ambessa Medarda exactly what bullshittery he has done and maybe she’ll tear him apart with her bare hands in front of you. But, until that day, you bear the burden that is your rivalry and rather confusing friendship. “That depends entirely on what you heard.”
“Now you’re just trying to be difficult.”
“Well, considering the last time you had Viktor in front of you, you tried to beat him to death, forgive me my reticence, Mr. Tallis,” you snap.
Jayce sighs and steps inside, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lean against it, but he does stand nearby. “Look. You’re the only way of knowing if there’s even a scrap of hope for him,” he raises a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. “I know he isn’t intending to hurt Piltover or Zaun in the short term, but…I need to know for the future.”
I need to know if he’s a rabid dog I need to put down, Jayce doesn’t say. You just…sigh and settle back in your chair. “He’s…changed. Somewhat. The ball is in his court.”
“You gotta give me more than that, kitten,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “Changed how?”
What are you willing to give him, that is the question. The moments you shared with Viktor were precious, something that Viktor didn’t even realize he was still capable of doing, things that are so fragile that you worry speaking them aloud is going to obliterate them into a million pieces. It’s irrational, this much worry, but it’s all you have. Finally, you manage to pry the words out from your locked jaw as you lower your hand from your face. “You know how minimalist he was with his work?”
“Yeah. Everything had to have a purpose,” he hums.
“When Viktor made Blitzcrank, he installed a protocol to keep me safe and involved. He did so with all of his creations,” you swallow around the unexpected knot that rises in your throat. “Blitzcrank still has it.”
He blinks. “Viktor forgot to remove it?”
“Yep, and when Blitzcrank reminded him, Viktor basically told them that they could keep it if they wanted to. No tweaking or anything.”
Jayce taps his fingers against his knee. “That’s unlike him.”
“And apparently after I got injured, he had someone checking in on me to make sure I was healing well,” you rub at your ribs in memory of the injury, as they still creak a little bit. “Even though I was being actively kept at a distance.”
“So we have an act of protection and sentimentality at the same time as an act of repulsion,” he taps his fingers a little more insistently. “Leans a little more toward human than not, but still not enough to prove the theory. What else?”
One thing you have to say for Jayce - despite his arrogance, you do appreciate how clear-cut he is. Just like that some of your anxiety fades and you let yourself open up. “He got injured helping workers in a factory.”
“What?”
You describe the situation in the manufacturing plant, about how grave Viktor’s injuries were, and then finally, the conversation at the end of the visit. “‘Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress’, whatever that means,” you shake your head.
Jayce hums. “I know when he heard that.”
“When?”
“He went to the Undercity while we were working on the Hexcore, after he’d been hospitalized. He never told me who he spoke to-”
“Because you were being a classist prick at the time.”
“Because I was a classist prick, yes, moving on from that,” Jayce waves his hand to push the memory away, “but he kept working on it. Whatever he added to the Hexcore that night, whatever he did with it, was enough to make his leg functional, but…it killed his assistant.”
Sky. You remember that now. The poor thing. “And what does that mean?”
“It means that even then, Viktor weighed his own humanity against his work and decided his work was worth it,” Jayce sighs. “Why didn’t I see it?”
For once, you avoid the opportunity to roast him. “I don’t think either of us saw this coming.”
He nods slowly. “So…what happened after that?”
“I told him I still loved him, that I didn’t need anyone’s permission to do so, and…if he made up his mind about me, he knows where to find me,” you shrug slowly. “About…feelings and whether they’re necessary.”
Jayce does not speak for a moment, still tapping his fingers on his knee. “Do you think he’ll come see you?”
“I hope so, but I don’t know,” you tip your head. “It’s all dependent on whether or not he still views feelings for another person as an inconvenience. For all I know, he’s about to embark on more brain surgery.”
“Or an assassination.”
“No, he said it wouldn’t come to that.”
“Are you sure?” Jayce cracks a grin. “He’s been around you, he knows that sometimes, the thought passes quite easily into one’s head about wringing your neck.”
“Funny, I could say the same about you.” You grab the pencil from behind your ear just to throw it at Jayce’s face. He puts up a hand lazily and it bounces off his palm, flying into a corner of the room. “Especially regarding the timing of your jokes!”
“Too much?”
“Yes, Tallis.”
His smile drops and he shrugs. “So…ball is in his court.”
“Yep.”
“And we’ll only know his answer if he comes up to see you.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Fuck,” Jayce pinches his nose. “Anywhere you can go from there?”
“There’s a few people I can ask, maybe?” You put your chin in your hand, tapping your fingers against your jaw. “But that’s not the best idea. The Firelights avoid him, Jinx probably would try to blow me or him up for trying, I value my own skin too much to go near the chem-barons, and the more I ask-”
“The more dangerous it will become for you,” he fills in, “and no matter how much we don’t get along, I’d rather you not die.”
You are about to speak more when someone knocks on your door. “Professor, there’s a message here for you. From…from the Undercity.”
Hope surges in your chest. “Yes? Come in.”
The messenger opens the door, stopping at attention beside your desk. You unfold the piece of paper to reveal possibly the neatest writing you have ever seen, although the paper has smudges of ink and purple liquid.
Your persistence is to be commended in your pursuit of knowledge. However, your inability to locate the correct sources of knowledge is beginning to trouble my work. If you wish to know more about Viktor, then come see me where his story began. You may bring someone with you, if you are concerned for your well-being.
S.
You stare at the letter, which Jayce reads over your shoulder. “Who is S?”
“I can take a wild guess, even if I don’t like what I'm thinking of,” you look at the messenger. “Where did you get this?”
“It was handed to me by a very scared-looking Undercity thug,” they say with a shrug. “They didn’t say who it was from.”
“Thank you, that will be all.” You wait until the messenger leaves and closes the door behind him before sighing. “And here I thought I was done with all of my stupid shit.”
“Why? Who is S?”
“Possibly the most dangerous man in Zaun, even more than Silco ever was,” you fold up the letter, “but also someone Viktor would have seen as a…kindred spirit, I think.”
“And what, you’re going to see him?”
“I’m running out of options, Tallis,” you stand up from the desk. “Singed is a madman, but if I’m right, he’s the one who kick-started Viktor’s success with the Hexcore. I have to talk to him.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
You bark out a laugh. “Over my dead body.”
“Yes, because that’s what you’ll be if I don’t come with you,” he gestures at the letter. “You are smart enough to know that’s a trap, right?”
Yes, because you’re not an idiot. “Of course it is.”
“And you’d go alone. You’ve lost what brain cells you had left. Nevermind what this…Singed would do to you, Viktor would actually kill me if I let you go in there without me.”
“So what, you’re coming with me?”
“You bet your ass. I want to know. He was my friend too.”
Right. You go quiet for a long moment. “You’re leaving the hammer.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. You’d probably be asked to give it up anyway at the front door.”
“I’d rather have it just out of reach than where I can’t even access it!”
“Then we just bring different weapons. Something easier to hide,” you shrug. “I’m not saying we should walk in unarmed. I’m not that stupid.”
“Well, I suppose we do have some prototypes of mine that we can test,” he mutters. “Well, what are we waiting for? Where are we supposed to go?”
“To the place where Viktor meets everyone, it seems,” you shrug. “To the river in Zaun.”
You have been to Zaun enough times that you know exactly what to bring: casual clothes, your respirator, a knife in your boot, enough coin to bribe people for directions, something with your contact information to indicate where your body will go. The contact information does have to be edited for this trip - normally, your Piltover emergency contact is Jayce himself - so you put Mel’s name down. It takes a bit of effort to talk Jayce into casual clothing, but he is more than happy to don a respirator. With that and a few weapons based on Viktor’s third arm, you make your way across the bridge.
It’s not Jayce’s first time, but you can tell he’s on edge. You are too, of course, but it’s not as obvious, hopefully. You just take Jayce’s arm and tug him along behind you along the waterway, stepping along the stones with care.
“So you played here?” Jayce asks, stepping with care around a couple patches of mud.
“Yep,” you say softly. “There’s a bit of oil in the water but it’s mostly clean. Good to play in. I met Viktor here, and he met Heimerdinger further along, close to Piltover.”
“And he met this…Singed?”
“Apparently so. There are caves down here, and if you don’t know where to go, it’s easy to get lost in there,” you walk along the stream, the echo of your boots filling the little canyon. “Perfect if you’re trying to hide.”
Jayce bristles. “So if we died down here, who would find our bodies?”
You turn to look at him. “Will knowing that answer help you?”
He frowns. “I just…I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” the two of you finally come upon an entrance to a cavern and you kneel to crawl through, “but again, what choice do we have?”
It would have been a perfect fit for you as a child, and perhaps even Viktor as an adult, slim as he was. But for you and Jayce, it is a tight fit. Your clothing doesn’t tear, but it’s a near thing. You climb through first and help haul Jayce through it, the two of you stumbling into the cavern. It’s quiet, lit by some sunlight creeping through the cracks, and water pools in the center of the room. Purple flowers fill the room, filling it with a faint light. And, at the far edge of the cavern…is a door. Every sound you make echoes, reverberating from wall to wall, and it sets your teeth on edge.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Jayce whispers teasingly.
That takes the slightest edge off of your nerves. “Funny, I was going to offer you the same thing,” you hiss back at him.
Neither takes the other’s hand, but you feel Jayce standing close behind you as you walk closer to the door. It gives you courage, and suddenly, you are beyond grateful that you brought Jayce with you. Finally, you stop near the door and spread your hands at your side. “Thank you for the invitation, Doctor,” you say, voice clear and hopefully only trembling a little. “We’re here.”
There is a moment of silent before you hear a voice through the door. “So you are. Most would have assumed this to be a trap.”
“I did and still do,” you shrug, “Which is why I am not alone.”
“Ah, yes, the great Hero of Piltover. Are you here to smite me?” Singed’s voice - you presume it’s him - is completely disinterested and smooth, like a snake.
Jayce grits his teeth. “Only if you try my patience.”
“Then I shall endeavour to follow whatever guidelines you lay,” the voice says, still disinterested but a little condescendingly. “And you, little professor?”
At this, Jayce reaches forward to take your hand, squeezing it. To your shame, it helps, yet again. You lift your chin, gathering your courage. “I heard rumours about you as a child,” you say quietly. You can do this. You are grown up and you are not afraid of the boogeyman. “And while they said you were unfeeling, with no heart but for science, I believe you are not cruel for cruelty’s sake.”
“Quite the gamble you’re making.”
“Viktor listened to you. I should probably do the same, since you extended the invitation to speak to me.”
There is a long pause until you hear the sound of the metal door opening, and footsteps walking to greet you. Over the years, you tried to imagine what the mad scientist of Zaun looked like. Somehow, a bald, scarred man who hides his mouth behind bandages is not what you expected. Still, you do not let down your guard. You just straighten your back and tuck your hands into your pockets. “Hello, Doctor.”
“Professor. Hero,” Singed nods to the two of you. “Bold of you to come.”
“Bold of you to invite us,” Jayce says in response, arms over his chest.
“True, but I did not expect the Defender of Tomorrow to appear so readily, and without his trusted hammer.”
“Because it’s such a good idea to walk in openly armed,” you shrug. “We are here. What did you want to tell us?”
Singed does not smile, nor change his expression, from what little his eyes can tell you. “It depends on what you ask. You are the one causing a disturbance by scouring every dark corner for answers on the Machine Herald. It is in our mutual best-interest that I answer your questions, so you stop looking and I can continue my work.”
Suspicious. Far too suspicious for your liking. Judging by how Jayce rolls his shoulders, he feels exactly the same way. Still, Singed does not lead you into his lab. He simply reaches into the doorway and presses a button. There is a crunching sound of gears turning, metal moving, and the room gets darker. You watch above as the hole in the ceiling, letting sunlight shine down, is covered with a metal plate that has rock on it for decoration. “Um…”
Jayce growls, “He’s shutting the door.”
“Just for privacy,” Singed replies, and for a moment, the three of you are in complete darkness. Then another button is pressed and lights, green and purple, fill the cavern, casting shadows over every inch of the room. “You understand, of course, that I would not let you into my lab.”
“Of course,” you reply.
“We wouldn’t have gone in, anyway,” Jayce adds a little venomously. “But you’ve trapped us here.”
Singed releases the button and, after adjusting something on the inside, closes the door behind him. It is now just the three of you in the dark cavern, and Singed looks at you in vague interest. “So I have,” he replies. “But again, you expected that.”
…hopefully, the guns you brought were enough to break rock to let you go. You swallow back the fear and adjust your respirator, making sure it is still firmly in place. “Then I guess we better ask our questions.”
“So you should.”
Where to start? There are so many places to start. “So…you met Viktor,” you begin, “as an child, and as an adult regarding the Hexcore.”
“Yes, I did. I told him that I would have loved to see the Hexcore myself, but Viktor reminded me that my presence would not have been welcomed.”
Jayce growls, “Damn right it wouldn’t have-”
“Tallis, I swear to Janna, shut the fuck up,” you snarl. By some miracle, Jayce does, and you look back at Singed. “And you…helped him.”
“Yes, I did,” Singed replies easily. “I told him that it was likely that the issue was not with the Hexcore and calculations, but with his subjects. Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature.”
Of course, it clicks for Jayce first. “Shimmer. You gave him Shimmer.”
“A variant which should provide what he needed to survive the violent transition.”
The next one clicks for you, because of course, how could you have been so- “Himself. He was the first subject to use the Hexcore for modification. That’s where his leg modifications came from - the Hexcore in addition to a new brace.”
Singed nods. “Understandable. And I, of course, warned him of the risks.”
“Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress,” you repeat quietly. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
He pauses. “Viktor told you.”
“A little. Not enough, but enough to extrapolate from,” you shove your hand into your pocket to hide your clenched fist. Jayce’s hand squeezes yours tight, grounding you. “Although I can’t decide if you helped him out of scientific solidarity or if you had a greater agenda in mind.”
“I know the look of a doomed man,” Singed is so utterly nonchalant with words that are stabbing you in the gut. “I would estimate that he had months to survive, had he not begun his experimentation.”
Jayce makes a wounded noise behind you. “ Months?”
“Around six, yes. His lungs would have collapsed without any supportive structure, and I suspect his larynx required work.”
You suddenly recall the bands across Viktor’s ribs, the metal surrounding his throat. “His leg as a testing ground, and then his throat and ribs as a way to sustain it,” you say softly.
“And you didn’t notice?” Jayce asks you in concern.
“He kept it well hidden. Slept in the lab more than our bed, always wore pajamas, changed before I was awake, kept the lights off for anything intimate,” you scramble for an explanation, your own self-deprecation tearing you apart. How did you not notice Viktor’s transformation, how did you not see-
Singed continues without a shred of compassion for your mental turmoil. “He sought me out for more Shimmer a few more times, but he seemed adamant that he would continue the work on his own. I did inquire as to why, of course, but he would not answer.”
“It killed someone,” Jayce responds quietly. “He ran out of Shimmer but kept going, and it turned his lab assistant to ash. He refused to add any more to it. We destroyed it and we rebuilt a new one, with slightly different specifications.”
Inside your head, you say a quiet prayer for Sky. Singed makes a sound. “A shame. Such wonders could have been completed with it.”
“It killed someone!” Jayce explodes. “And you would have kept going?”
“Why would I not, if it afforded me greater success?”
That…makes more sense than you would like. “Were you the one who brought up human error to him?”
Singed raises an eyebrow, the first real expression he has made. “Which thought was that?”
“That he could reduce the amount of accidents by 90% if human error was completely removed,” you try to repeat what he said to the best of your ability. “That’s why he got rid of almost all of his emotions.”
“It is something I have always been impressed by with his scientific rigor, as of late,” Singed notes, “but no, that is not my doing.”
“Then where did it come from?” Jayce says incredulously. “We certainly didn’t tell him.”
“It…doesn’t really matter where it came from, only that it matters to him,” you say quietly. “Viktor cares about helping people and making his mark. If enough instances of human error stopped that progression and he was truly desperate enough…”
“He would see that as the only way to move forward,” Jayce finishes. “And when I shot down his application of it with the diving suits-”
“You confirmed your place on the opposite side of that debate.” You put your face in your hand. “Gods damn it, Viktor.”
“I mean, I understand wanting to make your mark - I’ve been fighting for that all my life - but to go this far…” he frowns. “Was it really worth it to abandon what you held dear?”
You can understand, although you do not believe it yourself. “‘So much has been done, exclaimed the soul– more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation,’” you quote softly. “It’s an appealing thought.”
Singed looks at you with a little more interest. “I do recall Viktor saying that during a visit here.”
Of course he did. “Considering how it ends, I’m surprised. Does he still come to see you?”
“At times. He does not appreciate the extent I go towards my work, but he understands my reasoning, unlike others around him.”
Jayce frowns. “And why would we? That is a path, yes, to help mankind, but by forgetting the tenets of mankind and society in the first place. Ethics, values, morality, the care we give to each other.”
Singed raises an eyebrow. “You wish to stand in the way of his progress?”
“Never,” you say firmly. “Viktor’s work is his life. ”
“Then if you are not standing in the way of it, what are you doing?”
You go silent, not sure how to answer.
“I do not mean that as an insult, rather as an observation,” he taps his fingers idly on a table. “You are a philosopher to his scientist, the optimist to his realism. Did you really imagine that his modernity would hold to the values of your poetry? We are people of iron and mechanization now, steam engines and turbines, science and progress.”
You lift your chin. “Art and science go hand in hand. Science seeks to uncover secrets hidden in the shadows, while art dares to imagine what they could be.”
“And what art have you offered to his cause?” Again, not a hint of insult.
You raise an eyebrow, opening your mouth to answer, before catching yourself. “Why do you care?” You ask simply. “It doesn't matter to your work. It’s just…keeping us here.”
“You are right. I do not.”
“Then why are you-”
Jayce shoves himself in front of you. “You’re stalling. Waiting for something.”
“Clever,” Singed intones. “I am waiting for the experiment to process.”
“What experiment?” Jayce snaps.
“We haven’t eaten anything or drank anything, you haven’t given us anything, we’re wearing respirators…” you say, concern tingeing your voice. “We knew better than to do anything you could use for experiments near you.”
“And yet…still you breathe.”
Your heart just about stops in your chest. You most certainly stop breathing. Jayce does too, the air shifting around now that you are no longer breathing, and Singed simply reaches into a pocket to pull out some kind of recording device. “Two subjects, both healthy adults, one unexposed to long-term effects of Undercity air, having taken in a large dose of the new chemical mixture through respiration. Respirators failed to filter it, as expected. Beginning observation.”
He stands at attention, watching the two of you, and the lights flare in brightness. You hold for as long as you can, but before long, you have to inhale. Now, that you notice it…you can feel it. There is something in the air, something that tastes like Shimmer particles and acid, and when you gasp for breath, it scalds your tongue and throat on the way down. It burns. Never mind the effort of trying to hold your breath. Now that you are focusing on your lungs, you can feel it, like you inhaled something spicy. You drop to one knee, clasping a hand over your respirator filters, and take a quick breath. Shallow. Not too big, so you don’t inhale too much. Jayce falls to both knees, taking a quick gasp, and glares viciously at Singed.
It was a trap. You trapped us for your fucking experiments.
For his part, Singed does not say a word. No, he focuses on his notes, stepping backwards to a safer spot, watching the two of you. His gaze is clinical, focused, like Viktor’s when he looks at a new experiment. His next exhale is a little harsher, more mechanical, and as he tilts his head, his scarf drops down. In the light, you see a respirator on his face, one unlike any you’ve seen, almost certainly his own design. Jayce drops a hand to the ground and you watch him dig his nails in, a frown creasing his face even deeper. Good. You’re not the only one who noticed.
“Subjects resisting any further ingestion of substance, only allowing minimal doses to entire through respiration. Existing dose in lungs suggested to be 0.05 parts per million. Effects should be beginning soon.”
‘Soon’ comes soon enough when you have to cough. It wracks your entire body as it explodes out of you, far too loud for this small space, and you feel phlegm come up as you do so. You have to haul off your respirator with it, spitting out onto the ground. Then another, as though your body is try to expel your very lungs out of your mouth. Then Jayce starts, and you can’t hear anything Singed might have to say over the sound of your own coughing.
When you first started coming down to Zaun with the academy’s permission, you heard stories of Singed’s monsters. A creature, once human, you think, covered in tubes and glowing lights, a nightmare made incarnate. There are no limits to his work - not through morality, laws, or ethics - and Singed exploits each opportunity to move forward with it. And here you are, about to become yet another one of them, with Jayce at your side. You would apologize to him, if you had the breath to do so.
“Please,” you gasp out, staring at Singed through watering eyes. “Please stop.”
Jayce’s next cough is even uglier than yours, and you see him sag to the ground. “I- I can’t-” his voice is weak, too weak, and there is a dawning realization that you may be about to die. You are going to die in a cave in Zaun, with no one knowing where you are, with Jayce at your side, and Piltover’s future is wrecked and it’s all your fault, and you have no idea what this is about to do to you but…it seems the road ends here.
No, no, no, god please no-
There is an explosion of sound behind you, rocks crumbling, a laser of some kind firing. The air shifts, and your next wheezing breath is clearer, a little more air flowing in. Your eyes are watering too much to see, so you focus instead on trying to not cough your lungs up. Jayce appears to be doing the same.
“What are you doing, Singed?”
You and Jayce cast relieved looks at each other, hands over your mouths to try and keep most of the particles out of your lungs. The voice is behind you, stepping closer, and ahead of you, by Singed, you hear a hiss of a turned valve, of flowing gas now forced back into its tank.
“Simply acquiring new test subjects. They are of a higher standard than others I have found.”
Metal boots walk past you, between you and Jayce, but there is no sign that Viktor looks at you. His mask - different this time, more coloured than before, but with a very obvious respirator added to it - is focused only on Singed. “Not your wisest move,” Viktor intones.
“Are you defending them, Viktor?” Singed does not sound surprised. Perhaps a little disappointed, but not at all surprised.
“You would not only capture the Defender of Tomorrow,” Viktor says the title without any tonal change, but yet in such a way that still indicates he doesn’t believe it, “and the professor who is the only sustained link between Piltover and Zaun, but kill them in a way easily traced back to your work? Or, if not kill, change in such a way that they could not be fixed?”
Singed hums. “They chose to come here. While they did not see my lab, they know where to find it, and this cannot stand for future research purposes. Besides-” He gestures to Jayce’s collapsed body, “quality test subjects are hard to come by.”
In the old days, that would have made Viktor grit his teeth in rage. You can’t tell right now, but you hear his voice change, ever so slightly. “This is true. However, based on previous encounters, the professor will not want to remember it, nor ever return here.”
You nod your head frantically at that, feeling your throat closing up.
“As for Jayce Tallis, I think it has been impressed upon him that it is dangerous to oppose you. Unless you feel you must test something to modify his memory.”
Jayce looks as though he is going to scream at Viktor, but clearly buries it down as he crawls to the crack at the wall, trying to get to the cleaner air. You would join him, if you could get your leg muscles to work.
“I have nothing at this point to do so,” Singed pauses. “I will need to install greater security.”
Affirmative. Your security is very lax.
You can’t help a smile at that voice. Thank you, Blitzcrank. Thank you.
“That should be sufficient. They will not risk their necks again, and no chaos will follow.” Viktor bends down and grabs you with one hand, hauling you to your feet. Immediately, you grab onto him for support, digging your fingers into any support in his armour. “I will speak with you another time.”
“Until then, Viktor.” Singed looks at you through your watery, bloodshot eyes. “I shall observe whatever comes with you.”
You find enough in you to spit at Singed before Victor drags you away towards the now opened cave wall. Your hands flail at the stone, grabbing at it for support, and you drag yourself through, falling face-first into the creek. Jayce is pulled through all the same and lands beside you. The two of you manage to drag yourself to a sitting position, leaning on each other while trying to cough out the last of the gas. Sure enough, Blitzcrank sits outside, observing you both. Soon behind you, Viktor follows, his third arm pushing a rock down to seemingly close the door behind you.
“Told you- it was- a trap,” Jayce manages between gasps.
“I told you- I knew it was,” you snap back between your own, desperately breathing in clean air.
“And yet- here- we are.”
“I am going- to kill you- Tallis.”
“You have made foolish errors in your time, but the gravity of this error was not one I anticipated,” Viktor breaks up the impending argument, walking between the two of you. “Did you receive results to make the investigation worth it?”
Yes, you think. I learned that you were afraid we would hate you for this, but that couldn’t stop you from what needed to be done. I learned you did not make this decision lightly. That you were in pain. That pain does not matter to you, if the results were worth it. That this man taught you that morality could be ignored if the result was for the betterment of others.
You just nod, trying to hold back the cough that wants to escape. Jayce does the same.
“Then it would be best for you to return to Piltover and recover.” Viktor starts to walk away. “This place does not welcome you.”
“Why- help us?” Jayce gasps.
Viktor does not pause. “I do not want you to die.”
“That- can’t- be- it,” Jayce’s face is red, trying to hold back a cough.
“Speaking will exacerbate your symptoms,” he says instead. “There is no need for you to die, and, as stated, there would be chaotic effects if you were to do so. It is for our mutual best-interest that you live.”
You don’t speak, simply watching Viktor, who keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Jayce, never once turning to you. It looks as though he decided against rebuilding his old armour and simply made a new one, with purple and gold undertones rather than red and brown. The mask reminds you of Enforcer helmets - more rounded eyes and respirator built into it - and his cloak looks more like a jacket. His third arm even received some augmentation, with wider clamps and amber light glowing throughout it. He looks…beautiful, actually, as much as a suit of armour looks beautiful.
…there may be something wrong with you for thinking that he looks beautiful like this. Or maybe it’s a leftover effect of the gas.
Do you require medical attention? Blitzcrank asks, seemingly ignorant of whatever is going through your mind.
Jayce nods. “Please. Here or Piltover. Wherever you can get us.”
Finally, you can’t hold your cough in any longer and have to let it out, hacking desperately. The last one is hard and you feel what you think at first to be a glob of phlegm or spit come up, spraying the ground below you. Then you open your eyes and take in the sight of red drops.
Wear your respirator when you go back to the Undercity, little one. You don’t want your lungs to become like mine.
Fuck.
Jayce stares as well, horror spreading across his face. “Zaun doctor. Now.” He gets to his feet and grabs onto you as another coughing fit overtakes you. You slap your hand over your mouth, but the red drops leak through anyways. This time, you can tell that even through the mask, Viktor’s eyes are fixed on your hand.
Don’t let your lungs become like mine, his voice echoes in your memory once more.
“Blitzcrank.” He calls, voice sterner than usual. “Take them to the Zaun hospital. Do not stop for anything.”
Affirmative, Master Viktor.
On you go again onto Blitzcrank’s hand, nestled as best as you can in the centre of the palm, gripping a finger tight for dear life. Jayce climbs on too, anchoring himself on a finger, and you turn to look at Viktor. The mask shows no emotion, of course, but you watch Viktor walk closer, staring at you for a long moment.
“I will give you my answer in person. Regardless of what it is,” he finally says with no shift in his tone. “Be patient, survive, and don’t do anything else foolish.”
You smile with blood stained teeth. “I’ll- do my best.”
With that, Blitzcrank takes off towards the hospital and Jayce just about yelps in terror around his next cough. You stay quiet and just…lean against the finger, watching Viktor’s shape grow smaller in the distance. Well…that’s one way to get some of the answers you need. Now, you just need time to think them through.
If you don’t die. That’s especially important.