Chapter Text
Piltover, the City of Innovation. Shining towers, bustling, colorful streets, magnificent airships… The city was truly beautiful – a shining beacon to all who see it, a proud example of what people can do if they set aside their differences and work together toward one grand goal. The idyllic scene was tarnished only by the smog rising from the streets across the river. The Undercity, where Piltover’s outcasts were discarded and forgotten. A neon cesspool of poverty and disease, overlooked by Piltover’s benevolent governing body. You shook your head and stepped away from the cliff’s edge, back toward the road that would take you into the city proper. You didn’t want to be here, but your research demanded travel, and so here you found yourself, despite your own wishes.
The air here was crisp and clean, and you took in the sights, sounds, and smells as you traversed the busy streets. Freshly baked goods, citrus, flowers. People laughing, chatting, working, and, somewhere in the distance, the sound of music, drifting gently on the wind. You nabbed a nearby enforcer to help you with your map, and he kindly pointed you down a nearby alley. Your new residence was around here somewhere in this labyrinth of rainbow light, you just had to find it.
Professor Heimerdinger, who had been following your research for quite some time, had been the one to invite you to Piltover, and made sure you had proper lodgings. He also offered you a lab in the academy proper in which to conduct your research, which you had graciously accepted.
The offer did have a condition, though, as they always did. Heimerdinger had an assistant, a brilliant young inventor named Viktor, who was rather ill with a mysterious disease of the blood. He wanted you, the leading blood expert in quite literally the entire world, to become Viktor’s primary doctor. He assured you that it wouldn’t get in the way of your research and might, in fact, even help to further it. You certainly weren’t going to say no to studying someone with a mysterious blood disease, so you had accepted that task as well, with an appropriate amount of bellyaching.
You finally found your apartment, which was relatively nearby the academy, and dropped your only two suitcases inside beside the door. It was easier to move around when you had fewer things to take with you, so you kept your wardrobe small and never bought anything you didn’t absolutely need to survive. You had a few pieces of equipment, as well. A microscope, some vials and slides, needles and syringes. You were a master of your craft, and could make do with very little. Besides, Heimerdinger had assured you that the lab was already outfitted with all the furniture and equipment you would need.
And indeed it was. A large hexagonal room with dark blue and grey walls awaited you at the top of one of the academy’s towers. A long metal workbench spanned three of the walls, there was plenty of storage – both shelving and drawers – and a huge chalkboard took up the entire left wall. A ladder sat propped up against it, set on rollers and reaching all the way to the ceiling. You would need it to reach the highest parts of the board, and you were certain that each and every inch of it would end up covered in your scribblings eventually.
You drew closed the curtains, covering the large windows on each wall behind the workbench and blocking out the sun. Then, you got to work sorting through the equipment that had been provided to you. Someone must have seen you enter the building and alerted the professor, because after only a few minutes in your new workspace, there came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” you called.
You turned as the door opened with a hiss and Heimerdinger trundled into your lab, followed closely by a skinny young man with and a cane. He caught your attention immediately, and it was him you were focused on as you greeted Heimerdinger. You noticed his eyes first, bright gold and shimmering with life. He noticed you in return, his gaze raking up and down your body as you knelt down to shake the professor’s hand. You and he shook as well, when the professor finally remembered to introduce you.
“Doctor Raven is a brilliant scientist, Viktor. If anyone can help you, I know he can!”
High praise from Heimerdinger, but it wasn’t flattery. He was right. If anyone could solve the mystery of Viktor’s blood, it was you.
“Now, if you two will excuse me, I have to prepare for a council meeting.”
He made his way out with a skip in his step, leaving you alone rather abruptly with your newest patient.
“Interesting fellow, the professor…” you smiled at Viktor.
He smirked and hobbled over to the nearest chair, where he plopped down to take the weight off of his bad leg.
“I’m not sure ‘interesting’ really covers it,” he chuckled.
You watched him prop his cane up beside him and rest forward with his elbows on his thighs.
“I’m sure he wanted us to get started immediately, but I haven’t even sorted through this equipment yet,” you told Viktor.
“I can help,” he offered brightly.
You regarded him curiously.
“If you want to, I certainly won’t say no to an extra hand. I need to find the needles and syringes, the centrifuge, and the microscope first.” You glanced around at all of the gear laid out on the workbench. “There are machines here that I’ve never seen before, let alone know to use...”
Viktor pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand next to you. He picked up a small, cylindrical device and turned it over in his hand leaning his hip heavily against the edge of the table.
“I doubt you’ll use most of this,” he said.
“Then I’ll need a place to store it so it’s not in the way… Those drawers there will do for now.” You gestured with your head to a set of deep drawers beneath the rightmost workbench. “I imagine you know what most of this stuff does. If you find something that you don’t think I’ll need, just chuck it in a drawer.”
You turned your back to him, working your way across the room to a glass case encrusted with frost that you assumed was a miniature refrigerator of some kind. It was his turn to regard you, and he did so with just as much curiosity as you’d given him.
“What exactly is your research, Doctor, if you don’t mind me asking?”
You flipped through one of the newest issues of a medical journal that had been left for you.
“I’m trying to dilute my own blood while still maintaining its restorative properties in order to create medications for a range of different ills without the patient perishing.”
The answer came out sounding more rehearsed than you meant for it to. Probably because it was rehearsed.
“Dilute your own blood?” Viktor asked. “Restorative properties? I’m not sure I understand. Your blood is special somehow?”
You turned your attention away from the rectangular machine with pointy arms that you had been studying and toward Viktor.
“Heimerdinger didn’t tell you?” you asked.
A crease appeared between Viktor brows.
“Tell me what?”
You sighed. You found it was more trouble to hide your true nature than to be open about what you were, but you were at least hoping that Heimerdinger would warn Viktor ahead of time.
“I’m a vampire, Viktor,” you said plainly. “I understand if you’re not comfortable with a vampire being your doctor, I can talk to the professor-”
“It’s not a problem,” he interrupted you.
“No?”
You were surprised. Most people who found out abhorred you.
“No,” he reassured you. “It doesn’t bother me. Though, I am surprised. I thought your kind went extinct four-hundred years ago.”
You frowned and cast your gaze downward.
“I’m the last,” you said with a sad smile.
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
You composed yourself and offered him another, much brighter smile.
“The Blood War was a long time ago,” you said. “I grieved for many years, but finally accepted that I’m all that’s left and moved on. That’s when I started my research. After it had caused so much pain, I wanted to find a way to use vampire blood for something good. To help people.”
“A noble cause,” he said softly.
“I like to think so,” you chuckled.
You asked Viktor about his medical history while the two of you got your lab in order. He explained that he’d been to many doctors over the years, and they’d all come to the same conclusion. Something was wrong with his blood, but they couldn’t tell him what. No one could. It was the Great Mystery.
“Did they even give you a hint?” you asked.
“Something about toxins or a mutation of the red blood cells.”
“Those are two very different things.”
He shrugged.
“And when they realized they didn’t know how to help you, they just… gave up?”
“Mmhmm. I was told I should find a specialist.”
You nodded, dumbfounded.
“Well… It may have taken a while, but I suppose you did find a specialist.
“And a good thing, too,” Viktor chuckled and slumped back in his chair.
It was then that you realized just how tired he looked. How pale. How sick.
“And your leg?” you asked him.
He sighed.
“I was born with bones twisted and bent. This is one problem that you won’t be able to solve, Doctor. You just focus on the blood.”
He didn’t believe that you would be able to cure his blood disease either, but he didn’t say it aloud. He was interested in your research, and, by being your patient, he was in the perfect position to learn everything that you were willing to teach him.
He stayed in your lab with you for hours, helping you get everything set up just how you wanted and teaching you about any machines you didn’t recognize that you may be able to benefit from. When you finally checked the time, it was late in the evening.
You sighed and swore under your breath.
“Everything alright?” he asked as he slid the last of the medical textbooks onto a shelf.
“It’s late,” you said. “And you haven’t eaten. You must be starving.”
He shrugged.
“I don’t have much of an appetite.”
You frowned.
“As your doctor, I must insist that you have something to eat tonight.”
“Already pulling the ‘doctor’ card, huh?” he smirked.
“If I must,” you smiled.
He studied your face for a moment, then sized you up thoughtfully.
“Fine. There is a restaurant not far from here. I will show you around a bit, but you’re paying.”
“I don’t have a carriage, Viktor,” you reminded him.
He was already on his way out the door.
“I could use a walk,” he said. “It’s close, and it’s good to stretch my legs.”
He knew his body better than you, so you didn’t argue. You followed him out of the academy, back toward your apartment, and he told you all about the shops and buildings that you passed on your way there. The restaurant, when you finally came to it, was more of a cafe, built halfway between home and work, placed for the convenience of academy students. It was cozy, decorated with vibrant colors and soft lighting, like much of Piltover. The waitress greeted Viktor like an old friend, beaming when she saw him come in. He didn’t give her much attention in return. He also didn’t eat much, preferring to pick at his food rather than actually put it in his mouth. You did get him to drink some water, though he did so begrudgingly.
“What do you eat, Doctor?” he asked when you didn’t order.
“Do I really need to answer that?” you asked, brow raised.
He chuckled and nibbled a french fry.
“I’m curious. Most information on vampires was destroyed after the war, and what remains is up for debate. Am I wrong for wanting information directly from a reliable source?”
What a cheeky little fucker, you thought.
“I drink blood,” you confirmed, watching him through red eyes while he gazed back through gold.
“Human?”
“Anything I can get my hands on. But, yes, human is preferable.”
He considered that for a moment.
“Would you eat someone like Heimerdinger?”
“What, an eccentric?” you chuckled.
“That’s not what I meant,” he smiled.
“A yordle, you mean.”
He nodded.
“Yes, I can drink the blood of yordles. The fur does get in the way, though.”
“Would you drink from me?”
You smirked.
“Why? Are you offering?”
He shrugged and offered his own sly smile.
“Just wondering.”
He was very curious to know how exactly that worked. Would you take a sample with needle and vial, or drink directly from the vein?
When it was clear he wasn’t going to eat anymore, you offered to escort him home. He politely declined, saying that there was more to do at the academy.
“Heimerdinger always has paperwork that needs sorting,” he said.
“Then we’ll walk back together. I’d like to get my notes organized and ready for tomorrow.”
“Will we start tomorrow?”
“I’ll draw some blood and give you a once-over, at the very least,” you replied.
You said your goodnights in the elevator, where he stopped on the floor that held the professor’s office, and you continued up to the very top. You pulled open the curtains and gazed out over the city with a sigh. New life. Same research. But this time, perhaps, with the help of your new patient, you would arrive at conclusions that you hadn’t even considered before. This time, perhaps, you would stumble upon a breakthrough. You pulled your notebook from your bag, settled back in one of the rolling chairs with it, propped your feet up on the worktable, and settled in for a long night.
This was Piltover, the City of Innovation, and you had work to do.