Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The scientist finds his fingertips trembling slightly as he speaks to one of the guard near the cell. It's not because of the heavy-duty men standing guard at the door. It's not because of the folder full of documents he's clutching in his arms. It's the content printed on the pages, desperately inadequate compared to what awaits him inside the cell. But the biggest factor is that he's not prepared to face the anomaly in person.

He signals the guard to let him into the solitary confinement room. Before he enters he's insisted that the visit be as discreet as possible so he doesn't bring any bugs, cameras, nor anything else. Just the folders, pen, and the subject's diary. He believes that this will instill trust on the other side and allow him to gain more information than anyone before him. But he is still wary, because he has been warned about what the patient does from time to time. As soon as he's let in, the heavy metal door slams shut and the lock clicks. It's just him and the patient.

"Hello?" He speaks and sits down at the table. He places the papers on the table and looks with a searching eye first at the empty chair opposite, then at the wide windowsill on which the infamous patient sits. He hugs his knees tightly with his arms and hypnotically observes the world beyond the glass and bars. The cell is strictly guarded, all oxygen supply is through narrow ventilation shafts and windows that cannot be opened. "I am Jayce Talis and I am in charge of you" he introduces himself then gets up from his chair and automatically raises his arm to offer it. Nothing. The man at the window does not move an eyebrow. Just continues to stare out the window, soulless and without the slightest movement. "Okay, no need for formalities. We can talk to each other like colleagues. We are all in the same boat here, aren't we?" he mutters to himself, almost inaudibly.

"I wish so" the patient breaks the silence. His voice is muffled, but something inside him cuts through the ether of the room. He slides off the windowsill and his bare feet touch the cold concrete floor. His eyes aren't closed but they're wearily fixed on the floor. Nothing else interests him. He limps to the table with the same lack of interest. There's something unsettling about his gait. Does this guy really have problems with his musculoskeletal system, just like THAT Viktor? The one who went on a research mission to Zaun and thought to never returned. Now at the other end of this table. Marked by everything he experienced there, far beyond the comprehension of the local base employees. There were more of those who survived and returned, but they didn't show as many anomalies and changes. Many of them returned to their lives and professions. Some just needed a push. Others weren't so lucky.

Jayce watches the man mapping every movement intensely. He almost forgets that the patient has a cane with him. He doesn't make a sound when it leans against the floor. Maybe he doesn't even lean on it, maybe he just has it because of force of habit and muscle memory. When he sits down his gaze keeps digging downwards. This time to the scratched surface of the tabletop. Jayce takes advantage of this and shoves a worn journal to where the man is looking. His fingers are still shaking. Is he scared? Maybe. This is the very first time he's had the honor of meeting a former base employee who, not so long ago, did a job similar to Jayce's today. "So... You worked here? Did you do research before-"

"Says who? Ambessa?" Bullseye. The expression on his face doesn't change at all. He just pulls the journal towards him and starts leafing through it with the same disinterest. Long fingers run over the described and illustrated pages. Does he even read the pages?
"This is your journal." He changes the subject. "Your name is in there. You kept it when you worked here, before you went on a mission to Zaun or "Area X." You also took notes while you were inside. Very interesting. It's a fascinating document though some of the things and the time frame don't make much sense." His voice dripping with suspicion. The patient must have noticed, now staring into his eyes. There's something oppressive about his gaze. Almost as if he's penetrating his skull with it, reading effortlessly through the tangles of his conscious and subconscious. He feels vulnerable and fragile now. Despite all the overwhelming feelings, he can't bring himself to tear himself away.

"It's hard to say if that's my name. But you can call me that" the predator's gaze softens, his pupils dilating slightly. The corners of his mouth lift into a slight smile. He glances at the journal and then back at Jayce. "The way the world works in this reality and beyond is hard to describe in words. Hence the inaccuracies. I don't understand it myself." His voice, despite his harsh accent, is smooth and reassuring. With complete calmness, he turns his head to the corner of the room where the camera is located. He stares into the lens while the machine hisses softly, accompanied by sparks and the lights then go out.

Jayce panics. His heartbeat gains speed and intensity. But his fingertips are finally calm. What exactly happened? "Did you do it?" He asks carefully and quietly. He thinks of a backup plan. Now is not the time for compromises, he should call for help. Quietly and inconspicuously.

"Yes," He doesn't even deny it. With the same silence and perfect grace of movement, he gets up from his chair and walks over to Jayce. This time without a cane. He grabs the arm that was about to press the emergency button located under the tabletop. To prevent his other hand from doing so he pushes his foot into the plastic chair, moving it out of reach of the button along with the person sitting there. Jayce gasps, perhaps in surprise at how strong the patient actually is. Perhaps because he has his other hand holding him by the throat. "Now listen to me carefully, we don't have much time." Viktor leans forward and when his lips are close enough to the scientist's earlobe, he loosens his grip. "Ambessa is just using you and lying to you. She lies to everyone" his voice is still pretty comfortable, considering the circumstances. "She's not who she seems to be. That woman has no idea what she's messing with. Don't believe everything she tells you. This is no place for you... Or for me." He exhales.

He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, full of adrenaline. Daring to make eye contact again, his gaze starts to warm. The longer he stares into those strangely blazed eyes, the more beautiful they become. The more he lets himself be absorbed in them, the more he loses his ability to act rationally with no regrets. "What exactly do you need?" He finally stammers.

In surprise he pulls back slightly and releases his throat, but his gaze remains fixed on the scientist's face. "If you want to continue questioning me, I want us to be alone together." He tosses his head toward the window. "I'm not a patient, I'm a prisoner. I haven't been out for a long time, out of reach from the monitoring devices. You'll tell your superior that I complained about the local food, the stench of the guards, and that I want to use the garden. Also, tell Ambessa that I was talking about her and that I limited my vocabulary to the word "kunda". She'll connect the dots already." He huffs. He turns on his heel and walks lightly to get his stick, he throws it under the windowsill onto which he easily jumps.

Jayce nods. "I understand." He's determined to agree to all the terms. He wants to learn more about him. He wants to know about his expedition, his life, and also about this place. He must master the new skills related to this strange new base. Only then can he achieve the purpose he came here for.

He would rather leave the door open so that Viktor can go where and when he pleases. But the rules here are different. His chest tightens with pity at the sight of him. He sits by the window again, in the same position. The same blank expression is reflected in the glass just like the beginning of the visit. He knocks on the door with a heavy heart. Before the guard unlocks it and it opens, a quiet "thank you" comes from the window.

___________________________________________________________

Jayce awaits for his boss to call him as he grips the handle. A loud rock-solid voice rings out "Go ahead", he enters and awkwardly closes the door behind him. Ambessa motions for him to come closer. She holds a glass whiskey in her palm and sips the liquor as she keeps pressing the same two buttons on the controller, replaying the specific situation. "Mr. Talis, I have to commend you. What you've accomplished today is something no one else has managed to do in months. You have my admiration. You're doing an exemplary job. Starting today, I'll assign Viktor to you and you'll have more sessions with him. He seems to trust you very easily. If things continue like this we'll all have better days ahead. The stronger your bond with him and the more he reveals, the greater the likelihood of stabilizing the infected area of Zaun." A camera recording from Viktor's cell is projected in front of them. More like from the cell. Never before has Jayce realized it as much as he does today. He has done nothing so terrible to deserve such conditions for this long. He is like a trapped bird that they want to sing on command. The idea that he should be the mediator of the singing disgusts him from the bottom of his soul. He instantly regrets getting involved in this. But he could have made his own conditions. His own and Viktor's too. He looks at the loop from the camera recording. When it clicks with him what is wrong here, he plans to raise another objection. According to the rules, only images should be recorded in the cell, not sound.

"The way laws work in this reality and beyond is difficult to describe in words. Hence the inaccuracies. I don't understand it myself." A distorted voice comes from the loudspeaker. Ambessa stops the recording just before it cuts out. He narrows his eyes and steps closer to the projection screen. He watches Viktor, looking directly into the camera. It's a mockery. He must have known that she was watching him from that spot, waiting for him to speak. "He did it." She snorts irritably.

"I doubt it," lies. "We suffer from frequent blackouts and this is one of them". He decides to get straight to the point. "You said the camera only records images, not sound. This is a violation of human rights. You wanted to spy on him-".

"Tell me, Mr. Talis, what exactly happened next? We need to know the details, we need to analyze him better. This subject is dangerous. You witnessed him tampering with us. Security measures are therefore necessary. This is a fraction of what he can be capable of unless he is sedated and adequately supervised."

He hesitates to say exactly what. What is in his job description? What does he have to say? What does he want to say? He's confused and this time he might have even aroused the boss's suspicions. "I... I didn't understand him. He kept repeating the word "kunda" and alternating it with your name. He also said that he didn't like the local food and that the security guards smelled bad." He opens his notebook, where the foreign word is written. He mentally jokes about Ambessa's insults, probably not the first time she's come up with a word for the cross.

"It doesn't matter," she waves her hand. "Now he's yours to take care of. You'll report to me regularly and consult with me about next steps."

"With all due respect, Ambessa, I would like to change the format of the investigation. I want to take him out and administer his medication myself. I can confirm that being inside is devastating for him. I know the means to get him to talk without forcing him, but I need his needs to be fulfilled. That's the only way he'll give us what we want. He told me himself that he doesn't like being watched either. So if I take him out of there for fresh air every now and then, he'll trust me more, be more grateful to me, and be more forthcoming." He waits patiently for her superior's reaction.

"Okay, that sounds like it could work" she raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of her whiskey. Her lips spread into a wide smile. "I like you. You're an ambitious and strategic thinker. I knew when I recruited you that this job was right for you, given your past." When she mentions his past, his blood boils. She knows nothing. No one here knows anything. They think he's a psychologist, a scientist, some say he's a former soldier. They think he's the man he faked his biography about. But he's just a tool for gathering information. Information that's not in Ambesse's favor, but will be useful for her daughter who's now God knows where and been trying to find. The order is clear however, get Viktor out of her mother's hands and then neutralize him. Although he's still pissed off, he's surprised that the deal with his boss went smoothly. She ate it all up with the reel from him. "I like how you can work with people. How you give them what they want and that they take it out of your hand" she adds.

"We have a common enemy. I'm doing this because I want to achieve the same goals as you. We're in the same boat." He is aware that the situation is completely different and that their paths are different. He needs to finish what he promised to Mel.

Ambessa nods. "You can go now. Starting tomorrow, you will manage everything yourself. I will look forward to the results,"

He nods back and thanks politely. He leaves the office.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Talis wakes up with a headache.
He performs his morning hygiene and slowly arrives at the cafeteria for breakfast before the "official" interrogation. No sooner does he sit down than his colleagues from headquarters pile up at his table. Among them, a petite girl with blue dyed hair aggressively squeezes in. She wears an inverted name tag on her lab coat, which even now is scrawled with an alcohol marker: Jinx. Everyone calls her that, too. Her government name is boring, according to Jayce, as he has forgotten it himself. Even her nickname fits her appearance and character better. She was characterized by a goofy laugh, loud self-talk, and frequent artistic feats on the white walls of the hallways. Recently, he had spotted her in the cafeteria, stacking coins on the dining room table in front of her. Was she counting them, or was it a kind of modest performance? "So, so what? Tell me, exaggerate," she urges him, and the crowd quiets. They are all one ear.
"I can't share information from a patient session with just anyone," he objects, though he'd like to explain that he's managed to talk him out of it. "All right, we have an agreement between us. I'll be in charge and I'll change my interrogation tactics. Anyway- you're all in the interrogation today. He may not know about you, but you'll be behind glass. You'll hear every word. Then I'll take him outside."
The blue-haired girl kicks her presso and furrows her eyebrows. "You believe your own words too much." She digs with an ironic undertone, and a few colleagues roll their eyes at her remark. "Make whatever face you want guys, I don't care. It's not easy with Viktor. Our golden retriever will figure that out soon enough,"
Jayce doesn't dwell on the nickname she gave him, even though it's a bit humiliating for him. Maybe the nickname itself annoys him more than what it was based on. At the beginning of his career, he wasn't very popular with his colleagues here, so he tried to gain their affection by helping with their projects and work. He liked helping others and took on the hardest work... And often even with a smile. Even though helping others fulfilled him, he knew that they were mainly using the nickname as a mockery of him. This hurt him, but not if it came from the blue-haired girl's lips. She was like that to everyone.
"I don't mind difficult tasks." Jayce defends himself and finishes a cup of green tea. He hopes the caffeine will stop the slowly developing migraine.
"We know that," Ekko, an expert in quantum physics and engineering, retorts. "But this is a different caliber. You should be careful with him... Have you heard about what happened to the last person in your place?" He leans over and the group does the same thing in sync. When Talis shakes his head, the dreadlocks decide to continue. "It started with headaches, nausea, and fevers. It ended with night terrors and deep depression. It's kind of funny, because they barely spoke to each other in dozens of sessions."
"It's not funny." The blue-haired girl grumbles indignantly. "Everyone who has tried it has somehow bounced back. He can really change a person. Ekko is right, watch yourself. I wouldn't want to lose my favorite purveyor of forged junk," And here it is again. Once again, he is just a tool of utility at the expense of the benefit of others. He doesn't give it to him and smiles at the last sentence.
He promises to watch himself and then, when the group disperses, he goes to his laboratory, where he properly prepares the materials for the upcoming interrogation.
.

Now he comes to the interrogation room, where the patient is already sitting in a chair, waiting. His hands are handcuffed. Jayce doesn't like the sight of them. He would prefer if they didn't make such fuss around him. He clears his throat and sits down opposite him, moving him closer to the table. He knows very well that Jinx and company are watching them through the semi-transparent mirror from the next room. He imagines his colleagues excitedly taking notes, or even making bets, about how long he will be able to study the anomaly.
The room smells of musty air and something that could be compared to rotting fruit. In fact, the whole building smells like that, but this room is definitely the one. The light is somewhat dimmer, and the fluorescent lamp flashes here and there at irregular intervals. This whole scene is even more oppressive than the interrogation room itself. The place is hard to attribute to any adjective in terms of atmosphere, but the furthest it would be from the word "cozy".
As he sits across from him now, he feels his ears throbbing and his head pounding with a morning headache that is only getting worse. He tries to concentrate, but any attempt to formulate sentences is a big mouthful. So he opens his notes and only then does he make eye contact. Viktor's gaze now carries something that prevents him from looking him in the eyes for a long time again. Is he angry? Is he annoyed? The image before his eyes blurs, but he overcomes himself and begins the interrogation. Pretty much according to the syllabus.
"This interview is necessary for scientific purposes," he explains quickly and continues. "I need you to tell me what you remember. As briefly and authentically as possible."
"Scientific purposes," he repeats with contempt. "I'll try," he says with a quick smile.
Talis clears his throat and begins the session. "Please give me your name. The one you remember and the one you're closest to."
"Machine Herald,"
This is new. Nowhere in the documents has the subject ever been mentioned as calling himself that. Is he joking, or is he serious because he trusts him through an unwritten agreement? "Machine Herald?" He blinks in surprise. "Is that what I'm supposed to call you?"
The subject shrugs and pulls his staff toward him with his hands cuffed together. "You can call me Viktor if you want. I gave you permission yesterday. Or you don't have to call me at all." An undertone of indignation?
"What exactly do you remember from your expedition?" He continues, writing something down.
"Hmmm... Light. Bright and dazzling. A flickering light that penetrates all living things." Silence. Is he being careful, or is this really the only thing he remembers in detail? Something doesn't add up.
The interrogator turns to the page where it describes what he has mentioned several times. They are thistles. Then he turns back and rubs his eyelids with his fingers. He is sorry that he has strict rules from his boss that must not be broken. He cannot give the subject any of his personal information. The method seems cruel to him, but he has agreed to it himself. It will not distort the witness's judgment. "Thistles," he says aloud and studies Viktor's body language. It will do nothing to him. He decides to toughen up and turns to the mention of Viktor's partner, who was missing before his expedition. The file does not mention his name, age, nationality, simply nothing. Even the photograph is missing. He has a lot of questions himself, but he has to stick to protocol. "Where did your partner went missing?"
The interrogated man furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. He opens his mouth a little, as if he wants to say something, but if it was said, it would lose its weight. "My partner?" He starts laughing. "What are you talking about here? What does it have to do with it?"
"What does it have to do with what exactly?" He gets even tougher, driving patient into a corner.
"Tell me," he raises his voice and leans forward. Jayce isn't afraid. But when he looks up and they stare into each other's eyes, he considers that maybe he should be afraid after all. One of the fluorescent tubes sparkles and bursts. Viktor leans a little closer, not breaking eye contact. "Is there anything written about him there? Anything?"
Jayce closes the book. He doesn't answer. He doesn't move, even though he's scared inside now. He would like to tell him that he is only mentioned through his disappearance, nothing more. A blank space. "What validity does this question have? If there ever was anyone I cared about, I would remember them and they would remember me. Surely they wouldn't leave me to rot in this place!"
"It's possible that you're completely disoriented, and the trauma you've been through has caused you to repress certain realities and memories," he begins, but doesn't finish. Is he speaking to him now, or to himself?
"I'm not disoriented." He hisses and sits back down. "... Thistles. The thistles were everywhere. Looking at them was like looking into mirror. They were the only thing that didn't feel foreign to me on the Zaun expedition." He steadies himself and turns his head to the mirror. He doesn't look at his reflection. "I don't feel comfortable when we're not alone," he says.
"No one's standing there," he sounds plausible. He's even sure he looks like that, but Viktor's eyes are running over God knows what. Or maybe over who? Could it be that he knows about the others? Is this what Jinx meant when she told him this morning, that he believes his own words too much?
He stares intently at one particular point for a long time, the corners of his eyes slowly lifting into a sinister smile.
The blue-haired girl on the other side of the mirror slowly backs up when she realizes that the smile is directed at her. Her pulse quickens and her eyes fill with tears. She can't stand it and runs away. As soon as she clears herself, the others can notice that Viktor is no longer paying any of them the slightest attention. To them, it's just another one of his psychological tricks, while Jinx takes it all too personally.
"If you say so~" the interrogated one shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly and leans on his cane.
Jayce announces to him and the others that the interview for today is over.
.
Now they are sitting next to each other outside. Since it's almost time for the evening break, a bunch of familiar and unfamiliar faces are hanging out in the yard. Jayce sits on a lonely bench, the one furthest from the center. The subject sits next to him. He feels several pairs of eyes staring at them.
"I behave good, so I get a reward, right?" Viktor starts. His expression shows that he's enjoying the open space. His fingertips run over the longer blades of grass by the seating area.
"You could say it that way. By reward, do you mean being outside, or catching me?" He jokes, trying to ease the tension caused by the morning's interrogation.
"Both," his expression doesn't change. He's still full of fresh energy. "It's a nice change."
Jayce lets himself be taken aback a little. "I'm glad," he says with a warm smile. Also, what he says is entirely on his own initiative. He wants to talk to him openly, without ulterior motives or pre-determined strategic tactics. "... About that question from this morning, the one about your partner... Do you really not remember anything?" He asks cautiously. "I won't write it down anywhere, I promise. If for some reason you don't want to talk about it, we'll leave it at that." He adds, even though he would like to know his private life.
The person being questioned is silent for a moment, then rests his elbows on the wooden table and arches his back. He exhales loudly. "I'm not sure what the reason for that question was. The truth is, I really don't remember anything about that person." He looks sad. "Isn't that strange? I remember the stupid flowers in detail, but there's no room in this brain for someone Viktor probably loved?" He sighs and lightly shuffles his bare feet in the unkempt lawn.
"Listen," He doesn't like to do this, but regret triumphs over strict instructions. "I shouldn't tell you this, but there's no mention of your partner. I think it's some kind of trick. A hypnotic phrase that could unlock certain reactions to various stimuli. There's nothing about him there." He quickly explains his hypothesis.
Viktor straightens up and thinks about several things at once. Disgust seeps through his facial expressions. "Like I told you yesterday. Don't believe everything Ambessa tells you. Maybe that person doesn't really exist. Maybe this whole thing you're reading isn't my file at all. Maybe it is, but only in an acceptably truncated version. Maybe they're just messing with us. Besides, I can't even imagine having a relationship with someone, in any possible form."
He can't shake the feeling that the person in front of him knows more than the others. That he sees patterns and facts that the others miss right under their noses. Maybe it's him who's messing with Talis. He must not allow emotions to cloud logical thinking and govern his purpose. "Last question, who called you the Machine Herald?" He stands up and helps the patient to his feet. From the play yesterday, he knows he could do it himself, but he decides to join in on Viktor's game.
Viktor reaches for his cane with one hand and tightly hugs the waist of his two-legged, two-meter-tall assistance dog with the other. "You called me like that today," He blinks and with the same care with which he touched the straws, his fingers now caress the exposed skin on scientist's wrist. He continues to his forearm, and something moves in his uninterested expression. Surprise? He looks up at the scientist's face, almost as if the answer to the unspoken question lies there. But when instead of an answer, red rises on his sun kissed skin, he pulls back and his gaze digs into the ground. "I'm sorry, I..." He gasps for something he doesn't understand.
"That's good," he reassures them both at the same time. It's not "good" for either of them. He announces that he still has a few projects to help with and that it's time for Viktor to return to his cell.

"Same time tomorrow?" The prisoner breaks the silence, even before the security guard opens the door to his cell.
"Same time tomorrow," he confirms and smiles. The smile returns.

Chapter Text

This is not the first time, and probably not the last time, that they have been hanging around the base building together. However, judging by looks, the local employees are not yet used to the fact that their most researched subject, accompanied by Talis, moves around the same places as them. Although Jayce could not see into their heads, he noticed a quiet whispering here and there, soaked into contemptuous intonation. However, he had to stick to the plan, and it looked like this: play it safe without arousing any of them's suspicions. However, he was not sure how much of it was hypocrisy and how much was affection for Viktor. He was really interested in what processes were going inside of his mind. Viktor did not say much, and if he did, he avoided direct answers. It is difficult to say for what reason he did so. Once, when Jayce was tired and desperate, he decided to hunt for information too quickly, which his counterpart noticed and responded with the words: "Do you enjoy this job?" He didn't speak again and refused to cooperate for a few days.

"I've been thinking a lot about the question you asked me last time," Jayce opens, interrupting the standard interrogation routine as they walk out of the cafeteria together. They had stewed carrots and rice for lunch. Before they can leave, the prisoner grabs a bottle of fresh sweet milk. It's almost comical how he carries the glass around like an improvised trophy.

Viktor stops and unscrews the aluminum cap from the bottle. "Really?" He finally speaks, and within seconds he downs the entire contents of the bottle. Even though the scientist has gotten used to Viktor's bizarre eating habits, he still wonders why consuming so much lactose every day doesn't make him sick. "What's your conclusion?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure," he looks down the corridor to make sure no one is around. "I don't enjoy the tasks I do," he pauses. It's strange to confide in someone without having his loyalty to the company, to Ambessa, or even to Mel questioned. "I'm doing this for someone who is my friend. I'm doing this for the greater good, and I hope I succeed."

"The greater good," he repeats, closing his eyes. His gaze seems a little more present and alive than when they first met. "Are they a good friend?" They finally move somewhere.

"Yes, she is," he leans closer and lowers the volume. "She's someone who was on the expedition with you. I haven't seen her in a while." He jerks his head toward the massive glass doors that lead to the courtyard. The patient understands, and they both head outside.
A high electric fence has been built around the property, surrounded by barbed wire. What is its function? Viktor runs his eyes over the individual razor blades for a moment, listening to the sounds of high voltage. "It's not safe here, not at all." He remarks simply. He sits down on the wall that borders the garden, which is staffed by local biologists and genetic engineers. His colleague follows him. He watches the tiny insects flying around the planted yellow tulips and around the artificial pond with water lilies. He notices a ground beetle that, confused, bumps its head against his bare foot. He knows very well what's wrong with the beetle. Someone has sprayed pesticides into the air. The poison has soaked into the soil, plants, animals, fungi, and is now once again floating in the air, which the local lungs taste while they live each day in blissful ignorance. The beetle is running frantically from place to place. "We are trying to escape from something that has long since began its invasion within us. It doesn't matter how big wall we build. What is out there is not nearly as terrible as what we as humanity are capable of doing to each other in the blink of an eye here. Maybe we are destined to be swallowed up by Area X, because it is the only sustainable solution. Maybe we are destined to become extinct. Maybe we are destined to become part of something new. Who knows?" Viktor is aware that sooner or later the ground beetle will die by painful and slow death. He takes pity on the insect, raises his leg and crushes the confused little thing with all his strenght. "So, what are we going to talk about today? Are we going to be honest with each other? It would be nice if we didn't have much time left." He moves closer.

Jayce tries in vain to discern whether the last sentence was meant as a notice, a warning, or a threat. What did he mean by that? He takes Viktor's diary from his coat pocket and gave it to him, just like the first day they met. The patient picks it up and slowly flips through it. Here and there, he swaps a few words or sounds to himself. The fellow sitting next to him watches both the individual pages, which he knows thoroughly, and the reader's face with a side eye. He finds every blink, every grimace, even a snort charming, albeit in an unusual way. "So, you're not THE Viktor who wrote this? How do you even perceive yourself?" He considers whether, after the introduction to the Machine Herald, it is an identity crisis, trauma, or a manifestation of something much more complicated.

"He is me and I am him. I just don't remember much about him. Almost nothing. Sometimes I get flashes of specific..." He gropes for a word that might be appropriate, "Memories? If you can call it like that. The harder I try to remember, the more they fade into abstraction. I'm not sure which of us wrote what. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," he says. "Do you remember Mel Medarda?" When Viktor shakes his head, Jayce flips to the page with little pencil drawing of her portrait made by Viktor. By which one, it's hard to say. Apparently he didn't remember any of expedition members by name. Or did they only knew each other by nicknames? That would make sense, because there's no mention of the names of any of the expedition members anywhere. They're listed here only by their professions. Under her portrait are written words: linguist and psychologist.
"Yes, I remember her," his stomach clenches as a few moments flash before his eyes without context, where the person from drawing, Mel, clearly wants to murder him. For what reason, consciousness is no longer available. The only thing he can see clearly is her expression full of pure terror. Was she looking at him with such fear, or did she seen something else? Viktor wants to say something that he will hate himself for. Something that he can also see very clearly now - her body, lying limp in a pool of blood, her eyes wide open. It was self-defense. He digs his nails into his chest and breathes shallowly. He quickly flips through the next pages. Something important is missing here and he has found it. He opens the diary so wide that the seams and paper crack under the pressure. He moves even closer to the scientist and shoves the document right under his nose. "Here," he runs his fingertip over the place where several pages have been removed. He keeps the memory of the psychologist's death to himself with a heavy heart. Maybe it will be better for both of them this way.
Jayce buries his head in the book and counts how many pages might be missing. Whoever ripped the pages out didn't bother to cover up the traces at all. At least six of them were missing. "Oh yeah, how could I not notice before. Who would do this?"

"Ambessa," he replies. The name always comes out of his mouth like a curse.

"But what exactly would have led her to do this?" He quickly reads the files infront and behind the torn pages. On one page, the text is barely legible. The line is shaky. It says:
"SOURCE (CORE) OF INFECTION. I'm not sure if it's something artificial or organic. It's a tool that must be destroyed before it can get into the wrong hands. It's inside me and I'm not sure if I can withstand such an onslaught." Behind the torn-out notes is text written in a smooth and regular line. It says:
"It's a perfect alien organism. It would be a shame if it got into the wrong hands. It could help humanity improve in so many aspects, to be part of a glorious evolution. It must be preserved and protected at all costs."

"How would you describe the source of the infestation? Are you telling me it's connected to you? Is there any way to stop the area from growing?" He won't rest, hungry for facts he finds essential. "How do you yourself perceive the source? Neutralize it or let it be?" He dares to ask another question that is all too obvious. "If you will die, will Area X disappear? Will Zaun be habitable again?"

He chuckles in amusement at the barrage of questions, though he has some idea why he's asking. He decides to take a chance. With what the commander is up to, he has nothing to lose. She'll probably get rid of him herself when she unlocks the full potential of his abilities. "I can show you how to kill me and maybe destroy the source itself." He starts, and the scientist's jaw drops at how suddenly he's willing to pour one piece of information after another. "I'm not stupid. I've known you had such intentions for some time. I'll help you with your mission. However, I can't guarantee that the Zaun region will return to its original state. It is not like I'd like to do it, but I know a painless way. I need to show you something else. Something very important. Today... About the core, I'm for destroying it. Not on my own initiative, but because the wrong hand is allready reaching for it." Everything he says is similar in one way or another to what Mel had told Jayce before she disappeared. Therefore, he dares to assume that the wrong hand symbolizes her mother. When Viktor receives no reaction from the scientist, he continues, this time in a more personal and intimate tone. "If I give you exactly what you need, will that fulfill the purpose of your work? Will that fill the empty place inside you?"
He doesn't know how to react, or how to give a verbal answer. Of course, the void won't be filled, and he'll be responsible for murdering his patient. He's almost in tears. The idea of ​​hurting him in any way is repugnant to him. He doesn't want to kill him, even though Mel has told him to, and the person in question apparently has no problem with that, given the dramatic circumstances. "I don't want to hurt you, but I have to. I'm sorry,"
"I know it's not personal." Viktor stands up and leans partly on his cane. He walks back toward the building with an irregular step. But he stops at a bed of tulips, waiting for an escort. As he shuffles reluctantly toward it, Viktor's raised index finger jabs a sharp line into the contrasting color among the yellow flowers.
It's a thistle of lavender colour. The longer Jayce stares at it, the less sure he is that the flower is really purple. What is confusing his senses? "What color is it?" He yearns for a rational explanation.
"I'm not sure. If you describe it to me, I'll believe it." He then hypnotizes a plant that has found its way into hostile territory and is trying to exist there somehow. It's the same plant that stuck in his mind when he was on the expedition.
"It's beautiful," is all Jayce has the mental capacity for. The longer he watches the plant, the more colours it changes. It's not just the colours, but the textures. He's intoxicated. Something inside him beckons him to pick the thistle for himself.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, the subject grabs his wrist and shakes his head. "Let it go. We've got a lot of work to do." He urges quietly. "Listen to me. Behind the archive, in the storage room are discarded prototypes from the robotics department. Take one prototype to your lab today. Right after you return me to my cell."
The scientist feels like a subject himself waiting for instructions. His head is spinning and the pain is only getting worse. He doesn't feel like he's in his right mind. When he blinks the image and finds a fixed point in Viktor's face, he notices that his eyes are identical to a thistle. Beyond understanding the color spectrum. Desolate. But now that he sees beauty in that desolateness, something deeply rooted in him changes rapidly. "I understand," he nods and the two of them quietly walk back side by side.
On the way back, he passes a group of colleagues from which a blue haired one sticks out. "Look at that cripple, how he leads an assistance dog with him," she doesn't bother to keep her findings only in her head, nor even in silence. Viktor nods in amusement, confirming her truth. Jayce pretends not to listen, as do the colleagues around her. The only one in the group who reacts is her older sister, who bursts into loud laughter. When she calms down, she gives her slap on the head.

Chapter Text

He arrives at the archives. It's early evening, but it's almost always absolute darkness here. The room resembles a huge hangar, crammed with shelves containing documents.
He turns on the light and lets out a startled scream in his initial shock. Jinx is standing in the alley directly across from him. She is not scared, but she is wheezing loudly and staring at Jayce. Her tortured expression changes from second to second into a neutral expression. "Damn, you scared me," Talis does not forgive himself.
"Good evening to you too, golden retriever," she snorts with considerable disgust and continues with his work. He rummages through the drawers and pulls out a file here and there, which he quickly flips through. She does not notice the intruder until he is in her immediate vicinity and asks what she is doing and if she is okay. "I am reading, obviously." She answers annoyed, but feels a little more comfortable having him with her during her weak moment. "Honestly, I don't know. Not at all." She admits after a long pause.
"Can I help you with something?" He says quickly, because he needs to finish what he promised.
"Maybe with theories about Area X. Or maybe with theories about parallel universes." She says it quickly, as if she suspected he still had big plans for today. The scientist listens and lets her continue. "If there are an infinite number of parallel universes, there are infinite branches, when making decisions in different situations. In some of them, we have definitely solved the mystery of Area X. In some universes, there was never an Area X."

"Maybe it's your fault for its appearance in this universe," he tries to joke, but instantly regrets it when the blue-haired woman burns him with her gaze. From the look, he feels like he has accidentally poked into something personal.

"Get out of my sight," she hisses coldly and slowly closes the drawer. "Maybe someday you'll come to a point where you'll understand that things aren't what they seem."

He apologizes quietly, though he doesn't know exactly what for. He doesn't even dare ask. He lets her continue obsessively rummaging through the shelves.

So he trudges to the warehouse and digs out a prototype torso for the robot from the scrap. He fails when trying to find the same pair of arms and legs, so each limb is made of a completely different material. Fortunatelly, there has to be only one head. They're all empty. The prototype warehouse is just a transfer station before the incinerator, so all the valuable chips inside have been removed. Jayce wonders why this is so important to Viktor and what he's up to with a pile of non-functional scrap. He feels a little stupid to himself. After today, he trusts Viktor more than ever, but he still has some doubts.

When the robot's shell is built and the body parts are where they should be, he takes himself back to the laboratory through the archive, which serves more like his own room for a while. When he passes Jinx, she's only a drawer away. The girl looks up from the files and gives him a blank look. She tries to mind her own business several times, but in vain. What's so surprising for her? This isn't the first time Jayce or one of the scientists has borrowed parts, or even the entire robot, for scientific purposes. She takes a few steps towards him, which makes him stop.

Jinx stops too. Her gaze darts from Jayce to the lifeless body of the anthropomorphic robot. "I hate it here," she whispers, her gaze fixed on the place where, with a little imagination, the prototype could have a face. She also seems to see more than anyone else.

"You're overworked," the scientist says, dismayed by her behavior. "Go get some rest." He motions to her. He doesn't think much about what might be going through her mind. He'd rather be in his lab. Just himself and a pile of scrap metal.

________________________________________________________________________

He searches every part of the mechanical body for clues. After a few minutes of intense searching and thinking, he gives up. He collapses into a chair next to the metal table. He puts his head in his hands. If his lab wasn't more of a room, the management would have installed cameras long ago. The company didn't like the concept of privacy, but spying on him during his private activities was clearly beneath them, as Jayce had learned in his first week on the job. He immediately checked every corner, every crevice, every crevice, every light. He repeated this ritual practically every day, which only fed his paranoia. Now he's glad no one outside is watching him, bewildered, inspecting the malfunctioning robot from head to toe, trying to find something that probably isn't there anymore. They would probably interpret the whole spectacle, including the way he collapsed in his chair, as a mental breakdown.

He takes a deep breath for a moment before forcing himself to stand up again and continue with his vague activity. When he removes his massive palms from his face and rubs his temples, he can't help but be surprised for what he sees. The robot is sitting on the table. Not moving, but sitting. The mechanical arm moves silently towards its head, and when it reaches the level of the lower part of its face, it presses its index finger to its imaginary mouth. Jayce understands that he should be quiet in his own interest, although this surprised him. What surprises him even more, however, is the second mechanical arm, whose metal fingers press against his forehead. As soon as this happens, the Scientist loses consciousness. The last thing he feels is a sharp electrical impulse transmitted to his head and a metal arm that subsequently grips him and protects him from falling from the chair.

_____

When he wakes up, it takes him a moment to get his bearings. A sharp pain pierces his head. The fact that he is now lying on the table is perhaps more surprising to him than the fact that the robot is now sitting at his desktop computer, typing something rapidly on the keyboard. Several files are downloading on the screen at breakneck speed, while nimble metal fingers skate at even greater speed over letters, symbols, and numbers that they enter into the command line. When the clicking stops, the robot's head slowly turns back. Although the prototype's head has no face, Jayce feels as if the empty space knows where he is. The robot rises from the chair and gestures for the scientist to sit on it instead. He listens and does so. So this is the thing Viktor wanted to show him? But what does it have to do with him? When he thinks about the connections, he can't help it and a quiet voice comes out of his mouth: "Viktor, is that you?" To which the robot types into the command line: "Your IQ must be at least 170, Jayce." He then deletes the text and goes back to the work he started. Even though the robot doesn't have the ability to speak vocally, Jayce can vividly imagine Viktor mocking him behind this mask. When he's done typing, he lets Jayce watch a video called "The First Expedition," which is playing on the screen. The first and last of its kind, as the leadership has decided that any technology should be banned in Area X. He knew there were problems with it, but he hadn't read the documents about what exactly. He only read the basic outline, where it says, who was what, what their name was and what function they performed. He was surprised to see Ambessa listed as a cameraman. Perhaps this surprised him more than the fact that she was the only survivor of that expedition. He refused to read the rest. Not because he wasn't interested, but because he didn't want to let other people's knowledge contaminate his own judgment of what would follow the presentation. Before playing, Viktor moused over a piece of text that mentioned that the viewer shouldn't exceed the recommended sixty-minute limit. He also doubted, perhaps from his own experience, that anyone would be able to endure watching the recording for longer.
He tries to observe from a third-person perspective - dispassionately. At first he does well. The old recording runs chronologically with breaks. Nothing unusual happens for the first few days. A few shots capture the campsite, swamps, forests, moss-covered human remains, wildlife, a lighthouse. The expedition members have short conversations with each other, occasionally joking. The next few days don't change much, except for the sound of the wind in the trees in the background. The next recording is so different that the hairs on the back of Talis' neck and arms stand on end. The jokes are becoming more frequent among the participants. As is the constant looking back at the camera. The laughter is loud and at certain moments it sounds like it's on the verge of breaking out into hysterical crying. Their expressions are tired. "What is this?" Ambessa says and the recording ends. It is replaced by another, where the leader, along with the rest, stare stiffly into a place out of the frame. Their faces, writhing under a surge of fear and horror, resemble carnival masks. "Stop it! Please!" Their leader yells hysterically, pressing her palms to her eyes.
"Stop it! Please! Enough!" A strange, piercing voice is heard from the side and when the camera is pointed at the point, Jayce's heart rate noticeably increases. A woman who is identical to the leader crouches to the ground. For a moment, everyone cries loudly and wails. A little later, at the same moment, everyone stops in sync. Almost as if someone had uninstalled all emotions from everyone at once. When the woman gets up from the ground, she walks over to the leader with a plank step and they hold hands. Both of them are now looking into the lens. They are all looking into it in exactly the same way - without a hint of emotion. The image slowly darkens. When pitch-black darkness spreads across the projection wall, a sharp human scream is heard, transitioning into a machine sound on a similar basis.
The next day, the camera is placed on a higher spot, probably on a rock. Everyone is on the recording. They seem carefree, their expressions are calm. They laugh a lot again, but the laughter is natural and relaxed compared to the last time. The whole scenery gives the impression of a group of good friends having fun on a seaside holiday. The only thing that might spoil the idyll is the conversation between Ambessa and the leader. The woman cannot be understood. The word order is not the only thing that is striking. Her pronunciation, intonation and absence of pauses make it impossible to identify the sentences, let alone their meaning. However, Ambessa calmly answers her and laughs and jokes here and there. Her speech is understandable. She probably really understands her, because the trauma she experienced the previous day prevents her from seeing and, above all, hearing what is happening around her.

The next recording does not seem so peaceful anymore. The shot is empty. No one is present anymore, though the camera moves forward quickly. Perhaps too quickly. It cuts through the wetlands and reeds. In the distance, a lighthouse rises. The image rises and falls furiously as the landscape shifts wildly. At one point, all movement stops. What all along had seemed like the rustling of the wind in the trees now seems like a whisper. The whisper is undoubtedly Ambesse's. "I'll get to the other side. I'll get in. I'll get out." Here the entire documentary ends.

Jayce, unconsciously ignoring the ending, stares at the screen in front of him. It feels like he's witnessed the curse that has been running in the background of the recordings all along. He feels so vulnerable even though he hasn't experienced the horrors of the first expedition on his own. At the same time, he feels guilty. He feels guilty for not being able to help any of them in the years that have separated them.
Viktor continues digging through the encrypted files. He opens one after another and enters the access codes. He points his finger at a written document containing data regarding Viktor. Totally different data than the ones that got into Jayc's hands. This is research focused primarily on robotics and its use in the military industry. It mentions several times how the subject's DNA could be used to power multiple machines at once. It is even speculated that the project is not far from controlling such an army.

Viktor underlines the entire paragraph in which it says: "We have a lot to learn from the subject. He was in contact with the core. IN DIRECT CONTACT. This makes him a tremendous source of energy that could be used for the benefit of society. In the near future, we plan to significantly advance the research." He then clicks on the attached video. It is most likely a recording from a security camera, but Jayce does not recognize the room on the screen at all. He squints and maps every pixel, trying in vain to make out any familiar element. The laboratory is huge and most of its space is taken up by rows of anthropomorphic robots. Each machine is connected to several tubes and wires leading to one large tangle, ending at a tank with a greenish liquid. There is nothing else inside the tub except liquid. In the next recording, two plastic folding chairs are placed in front of the tub. On one sits a robot, also connected to a tangle of tubes and wires, on the other an elderly man with a scarf tied around his neck and lower jaw. "Hello, professor," the robot speaks and the light in the room increases in intensity. The voice is hardly interchangeable. It belongs to Viktor.

"Do you have any idea where you are right now?" A man with a partially covered face asks as he takes notes to himself.

"Do you have any idea, professor?" A joke, or an impudence? The robotic body, apart from its voice, shows no signs of life or movement. Motor functions must be disabled, probably for security reasons. "Do you mean if I've ever been in this super secret room? Or do you mean if I'm aware that you moved me into this body against my will to get more samples from me?" He hisses.

"Okay, then, we should," he says calmly, making a few notes. "This project is very important to me. With the possibilities that your unique body offers, we can erase the mistakes of evolution. We can rewrite our weaknesses." The scientist is clearly passionate about his mission.
A moment of silence. "It's a selfish act. I hope you're doing it out of love."
Another deafening silence. The scientist's face is buried even deeper in his scarf. Jayce has difficulty recognizing who it could be. Even his characteristically raspy voice tells him nothing. "It doesn't matter," he hesitates. Perhaps he's afraid that being honest will tarnish his professionalism. "I read your journal-"
"It's not my journal," The voice rises a few octaves. "I won't repeat myself."
"Okay then. I read the journal that was associated with you. The journal from the expedition. I agree with the statements that are made here. Whatever you've been in contact with, it needs to be protected, not destroyed. Imagine this perfect organism, as described here, granting people your abilities. For those who haven't been so lucky, it will unlock a new world in which they no longer have to fear."
"Fear what specifically?"
"Deficits, disease, death. Imagine a utopia where everyone has a place to reach their full potential and where no one's fate throws sticks under their feet."
"I'll help you, Professor. I'd be happy to help you. But remember, what seems like a utopia to you may be a nightmare to others."
He scribbles down a few quick notes. "Well, I hope our job is to create a utopia. All these mechanical shells are perfect in every way." He stretches, emphasizing the robots in the room. "It would be a shame to install a program in them when the world offers so many souls inhabiting dysfunctional bodies. You, Viktor, can be their intermediary. You can help them transfer their souls into these perfect mechanical shells."
.
The other files, except for one and the last, are destroyed. No information about the Professor or his research is mentioned. As if he were someone trapped in one and single recording. A mere concept, a ghost captured on camera, not a physical person of flesh and blood.
Watching the last video, Jayce's stomach clenches again. The image is shaky and shows only a fragment of the whole, perhaps even worse context. The same laboratory is now flooded with soldiers. The professor crouches to the floor in an attempt to hide. They pick him up and take him away. "You can't do this, it's my research!" He swings the scalpel around him several times, but in vain. Two discredit him, while the third deals him a blow to the temple with an armored elbow. One big fight and chaos. Ambessa is at the head of the campaign, giving short and clear orders. Among them are the noticeable words: "search, seize, disconnect. Collect all files. Do not archive." The rest of the given orders are not so understandable.
.
Viktor opens a new file, this time with a written document again. He doesn't see a problem with entering the password, only a long jumble of random numbers and letters clicks on the keyboard. God knows where he gets his clue from. He searches for a moment, then underlines the important ones. The text marked in blue says: "Thanks to previous research, the hardware and software for robots have been improved. However, I do not intend to build on it. I do not know how much time we have left. I must act as quickly as possible. The border of Area X is slowly moving from Zaun towards Piltover. Subject Viktor refuses to cooperate. Without him, it is impossible to achieve the desired results. Since I deployed J. Talis here, we have been moving, but not quickly and effectively enough. We have discovered that to control the mechanical army, it is not necessary to put everyone into operation individually. Therefore, we will use Viktor's ability of collective consciousness. Or rather unconsciousness. He will not voluntarily submit to us and would cause more harm than good. Moreover, he does not like my vision. Therefore, we will put him into artificial sleep and thus exploit his maximum potential. Subsequently, we will infiltrate Area X with the army and head for the core, which, among other things, in addition to neutralizing the infected area, will serve us to create an even more powerful, invincible army." He lets Jayce finish reading and underlines the short text, which lists the date of the planned military operations and, last but not least, the date of Viktor's induction into a coma. D-Day is tomorrow.
"Oh my God," the scientist sighs, rubbing his temples. "I guess we have to act," he admits reluctantly. The robot nods and in a few clicks closes all open documents and then opens the camera systems database. He taps on the live feed from his own cell. He sits as usual on the windowsill by the window, leaning against the wall. He seems to be asleep. Jayce understands now. When Viktor is in the robot's body, the other is out of order. He runs the same finger that he used to tap on the screen over his neck, which somehow doesn't hold his head properly. "Yes, we have to act, and quickly." He types into the command line. "I'll stay here while you get into my cell under the pretext of further interrogation. When you're inside, my consciousness will be here. All you have to do is inject me with one dose," he writes. One dose of what? He's about to question him, but the robot is playing it safe. He opens the door of the small antediluvian freezer and fishs out a syringe of bright green liquid from a rickety drawer. He had to do a complete search of the entire lab/room while Jayce was out. He presses the euthanasia tool into his huge palms. The syringe looks all the more fragile, even though a dose of the substance could put down a horse in a minute. The robot nods and sits back down. "I guess this is goodbye. Given the circumstances, I'm really glad it's going to be you." He writes and before deleting all the text, he adds: "Thanks for your company."
On the monitor screen, apart from the live feeds from the security cameras, there is no sign of previous activity. However, Jayce is slightly concerned about the warehouse sector, where Jinx should still be moving at the moment. Something flashes across the screen at incredible speed. It seems to be a person, but he is not sure. The silhouette swings from the ground to the highest shelf and shoots upwards. Jayce blinks a few times and continues to stare at the already calm warehouse shot.
.
On the way to Viktor's cell, he mentally prepares himself. It will be unpleasant and painful. Despite the fact that Viktor asks him to. Despite the fact that he promised him to. He walks past the door of the warehouse and decides that it would be a good idea to check what is going on. Normally, he would let it go, but anything now seems more acceptable than the planned murder of his own patient.
He steps inside and closes it quietly behind him. The light is still on. He reaches the place where he saw the strange thing on the recording. Fast movement. He looks up and notices a small wooden door on the ceiling. He has never noticed it before. He has only wandered into the archive once, and that was while walking around the base to map out the new terrain. The ceiling is almost two meters above the last shelf, so it will be difficult for him to reach the door. So he goes for a pull-out ladder, thrown in the corner, along with a mop and other necessary junk. He leans it against the shelves and climbs higher and higher. Apart from the video footage, there are no thoughts running through his head, only a throbbing migraine. He is driven by pure curiosity. The instinct of self-preservation only comes when he lowers the falling door and enters a space resembling a loft. He swings himself onto the concrete floor and just sits there for a moment. In silence, in the dark, alone. When he decides to turn on the flashlight, he almost jumps out of his skin. A large colorful painting dominates one of the walls. He cannot decide whether the work evokes a more grotesque or disturbing impression. Among wild and spontaneous brushstrokes, he recognizes human figures. Some of them turn into strange fauna and flora of phantasmagoric appearance, others into chimeras of several unidentifiable animal species. Some have enlarged, pixelated portraits pasted on them. He doesn't recognize most of them, but two of them catch his eye. Mel Medarda and his own photo taken from the base's security footage. His blood freezes in his veins. Both figures are depicted kneeling with their arms raised, as if praying to something, or worshipping something. But he doesn't like what they are worshipping at all. He steps back, and his feeling of unease increases. Above them hovers an entity holding a glowing scepter. A halo of gold paint flows over its head, with symbols around it that are difficult to identify. The face of the monstrous deity resembles a mask split in half, inside which two supernovae pulsate horizontally in the dark universe, symbolizing another pair of eyes.
Unconsciously, he backs up and backs up. Who could have painted something so terrifying? When he is far enough away, when the flashlight's light covers a wider area, the answer appears. Not far from the painting, the artist herself is huddled against the same wall. Jayce can't hold back the rising sense of threat and a short scream escapes his mouth. He would rather run away, or at least close his eyes and pretend that it doesn't concern him. Jinx is cowering against the wall. Her eyes are wide open, staring straight into his. The corners of her mouth slowly lift into a wide, toothy smile, revealing that she is enjoying his mental state, both from the artwork and from herself. Jayce takes another step back and feels a sharp sting as something catches on his leg. He does look down. He sees a thistle. Identical to the one they had come across in the yard among the tulips earlier today. The only difference between them is that this one is sticking straight out of the concrete floor. It's amazing how life finds a way. He hisses with pain, which now moves happily through his entire body. He lights up the same place again. He imagines that the blue-haired girl managed to move towards him in that second and now rushes at him, pulling him into the darkness with her and then into the bowels of the ventilation shafts. However, none of his imagination happens. She is still in her place, with the same spasmodic smile, her eyes wide open. Maybe Jayce's fear obscures what he sees at the moment, because her smile is even wider, with a few extra teeth.
With no memory of how he got back down, he finds himself returning the ladder to where he borrowed it from. He gets the picture that the security camera failed to capture. Jinx, who crawls up the shelves and without any help reaches the cursed attic space, several meters above her.
.
He doesn't answer when the featureless person speaks words that make no sense as they pass him in the hallway leading to Viktor's cell.
Now he stands inside. In front of Viktor. Eyes wide open. Unable to move any further. Completely paralyzed by what he sees. How did he get so close to Viktor? How did he even manage to do it?
He hypnotizes him with his gaze. As do the formations resembling veins, roots, and perhaps even wires, emerging from the wall. A wreath of chaos engulfs his entire body, except for his head, which hangs limply on his neck. His face is relaxed, asleep, full of inner peace and acceptance.
Jayce's ears alternate between buzzing, cracking, and ringing. Emotionally, these are not the usual symptoms of tinnitus, because this one has the nature of a deadly frequency, blasting the ear drums. Immediately, deafening silence takes over. But the visuals won't let Jayce rest. The root-like formations breathe together with Viktor, perhaps doing all the work for him. Jayce turns his head to the window and his already dry eyes widen to their limit in horror. He is now looking at Viktor's reflection. Instead of him, a sleeping entity sits there. The same entity that Jinx portrayed in her cursed altar. A terrifying and deformed deity that cannot exist. But now Jayce is looking directly at him, at his essence, at the creature from his nightmares that he just can't get out of his head, let alone his entire being.
He focuses on the camera for a moment, out of order again. Almost as if it blinked at him to signal that the time is up. Time to end Viktor, the mission Mel had given him, the Ambessa-planned totalitarianism, the invisible source infecting an ever-increasing area. With an enemy that might one day expand to the entire world if he doesn't stop it now. With an enemy growing inside someone he barely knows. Inside a stranger to whom, for some unknown reason, he feels such a strong bond at this moment.
He quickly unwraps the needle in his pocket and places his fingers on the syringe.
The vision turns black and a few brief but powerful images flash in the corner of his mind. The one that imprints itself most strongly on him is a vision of himself, surrounded by dim light. Although he has no explanation for the judgment, he recognises that the source of the light from his fragmented memory is the person in front of him.
It grips the syringe even tighter. He dumps its contents into the pocket of his lab coat. "Any decision can branch this universe into several others. Maybe they all work toward the same goal. Maybe we're destined to find each other in every single one." The message quoted in Viktor's voice comes to his mind. Another nonexistent memory.
.
Jayce locks himself in the toilet stall and vomits the contents of his stomach, consisting mostly of gastric juices and water, into the toilet bowl. The noise of printers from the office next door echoes through the toilets. The squeaking of the machine spills over into a loud human wail, full of pain and suffering. "Enough," Jayce gasps, his head falling onto the cold surface of the sanitary ware.
.
He runs down the endless corridor. The floor melts under his soles and soaks into his feet. Time stretches, forming a trap under his feet. He trips over it and falls to the floor, which decomposes and processes him, spitting him whole again onto the floor below. He is so weak. Gravity is increasing. Reality is unbearable and painful. He screams in agony. He leans against the wall to help himself back to his feet. The wall swallows his bare palm. He touches something warm and sticky. The wall is alive. Made of flesh and bone. It breathes. Deeper, from the basement, he feels the powerful beat of its heart, synchronized with his own heartbeat. This time, instead of a terrified scream, there is a hysterical cry, turning into laughter.
Ekko finds him. He picks him up and tries to bring him to him. For the first few things, Jayce doesn't notice at all, but when he comes to the question: "How many fingers am I showing to you?", he answers: "How many do you even got?" and bursts into painful laughter again. "Ekko," he exhales and turns a tortured look at him. He seeks solace in his colleague. After all, he is the one who calms everyone here, because he abounds in the quality of being supremely above things. "Have you ever seen or experienced anything...Unusual around here?" He chooses his words carefully. Local psychologists or psychiatrists provided their services free of charge to the headquarters employees, but he was afraid that they might see through his ulterior motives and snitch on him.
Ekko's worried expression loosens and the corners lift into a slight, calm smile. He moves closer to him and runs his hand gently over his trembling back. "Unusual things happen here all the time. One moment you feel like the building has solid foundations, but then it turns out that the doors and windows move wherever they want. The building breathes. One moment you feel like you're looking at someone, but then you realize it's not who you think it is. Everything changes here, rapidly, irrationally... But you get used to it." He spreads his smile into an even bigger one and pats him on the back in a friendly way. This was a response he didn't expect. The one he didn't need and didn't want to hear right now. It confirmed that THIS was really happening. Not just to him. "I think Viktor is to blame. Or Area X. Or both," he adds, a little more quietly. He advises him to get some sleep and continue on his own route. He leaves Jayce alone, but the solitude is just an illusion at that moment, obscuring the countless eyes watching him.