Chapter Text
Viktor is on his knees again with his hands in the dirt.
Low tide had peeled back the shoreline, revealing silt, sludge, and—if he was lucky—scraps worth selling. At fifteen, Viktor had a plan, or the shape of one at least..
Find enough scrap to sell for enough coin.
Buy enough food to stay well enough to work.
Repeat.
Maybe if he's lucky, he will live long enough for that to count as a life.
So far today he'd found an old hair pin, a few metal coils, a broken lighter he would look at fixing later and an imitation Noxian bracelet.
The tide was coming back in so he'd have to move on soon.
Next stop was the Forge.
There was always scrap at the Forge.
Viktor groaned as he found his feet, struggling with the malleable sludge that forced him to abandon his cane on the foreshore.
The trinkets he'd collected were carefully dropped into his waiting backpack and he slipped his now filthy feet into his thin shoes.
His path ran parallel to a small stream, mostly made shallow in the summer heat. The worst of the grime his body was caked in was washed away as he limped his way across it.
The Forge as its name would suggest was a workhouse filled with blacksmiths, farriers and even glass blowers on occasion.
The building was dark with smoke but bright with noise and stiflingly hot, even in the throes of winter.
It was a family business. Though viktor came to understand the father who established it had either left or passed away. Whatever the case, he was nowhere to be seen.
But the place provided plenty of offcuts and scrap that Victor was happy to give a new home.
He felt bad, not asking about helping himself to their scraps first, but the men that worked there were broad and loud and everything Viktor wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
He'd only got the courage to start picking their bins last month when he'd heard one of the workers in passing mention that the owner loved kids.
Maybe if he did get caught, they wouldn't be too mad at him. He looked a fair bit younger than he was having always been scrawny.
Plus they really did have the best scrap!
He'd spied her a couple times, the owner would sit on the front porch enjoying the breeze on hot days like today. Sometimes sewing, sometimes just enjoying the peace.
Viktor made his way around the back of the building and carefully dropped to his hands and knees to crawl under a chain link fence, ignoring the protests of his leg and ankle.
Finally in, he slowly made his way between towering crates of parts and materials to the back of what Viktor supposed would be a huge chimney, if he'd ever seen inside.
He technically could get more money for what was in the crates he'd passed but he wasn't a thief, Viktor just wanted what others were already throwing away.
"Useless things for useless people" like his dad would always say.
Viktor's eyes lit up as he opened the lid of the nearest bin and spotted a few lumps of cast iron among the rubbish. Strong and durable - easy to recycle, if he found enough he could resell it to be melted down
Oh, and a small screwdriver with a slightly melted handle! Viktor can't remember ever having a birthday but he imagines finding this could be what a person might feel opening a particularly thoughtful gift.
He brings the small tool up to examine it, eyes wide with excitement.
He could make so much with this!
Maybe even that leg brace he's been designing?
"What ‘cha got there?"
Viktor spins to find the voice, clutching the prize to his chest. His haste has him over balanced and in no time, he is looking up from the ground between garbage bins at... a boy? A man? Face in shadow and shoulders that broad it was hard to tell.
"Are you okay?"
No response. Victor is frozen.
"I see you here sometimes, find anything good today?" The voice is that of a boy he is sure but Viktor, though taller is still on the ground and at a disadvantage.
The boy moves closer and the first glimpse of his face shows cheeks still shedding their puppy fat and big concerned eyes.
Viktor had known an older lady once who kept a house cat. Its soft, clean fur and gentle temperament was a stark difference to the more common street cat.
This boy was the personification of the house cat.
A mop of neatly cropped hair, tan skin and kind eyes.
A short sleeve, collared overshirt, undone presumably because of the heat from the forge, layered on top of a white vest marked with mostly faded grease stains. .
Cotton shorts over strong legs ending in strong steel toed boots.
He is younger than Viktor for sure but that doesn't mean he can't be dangerous. He's got a box of scraps held to his chest and there's a hammer on the top... Oh anyone can do damage with a hammer.
"I-I can go" Viktor tries to sound firm but he's not sure his face got the message
"But you just got here? I saw you from my bedroom window - you know you make a lot of noise when you shuffle through the fence right?"
This was going nowhere.
Viktor pockets the screwdriver with a quick sleight of hand as he moves to get up "I am going to go now, I'm sorry I disturbed you"
"What were you looking for though? Did you find it? Do you need help to find more?
I figured you'd just take valuable stuff from the crafting crates if you were a thief, but you don't, so... What’s so good about the scrap?"
"You ask too many questions" snaps Viktor.
Finally back on his feet he gets a better look at the younger boy.
At a guess he's probably a couple years younger than Viktor, 13 perhaps?
They study each other for a moment before the youngster shrugs.
"Here" he says before holding out the box of scraps to Viktor.
Brows knit in confusion Viktor raises hesitant arms to reach for the box.
"You want me to put this in the garbage for you? " Viktor says incredulously
"No silly, these are for you!"
Nope, still not getting it. This is a weird game to play and Viktor doesn't know the rules.
"You want me to... Throw these away?
The boy sighs, like Viktor is being dense - and maybe he is - but what's the goal here?
"I thought I'd save you the trouble of sorting through the scrap and collected all the best bits I could find for you"
"Oh... "
Oh, this is... Suspicious?
"You did?"
"Yeah"
"Why?"
"I wanted a reason to come talk to you, you seem cool!" comes the genuine reply and an easy smile.
Viktor finally takes the weight of the offered box in his arms and oh, it's heavier than he expected - he can't carry all of this home.
"Do you mind if I sort through some of this? I will only take what I can carry. "
"Sure, you should come inside and we can sort through it togeth-"
"No." is Viktor’s immediate response.
He doesn't want the boy's guardian to take one look at the street rat their son has found and chase him away.
Perhaps the kid is too oblivious to see the level of poverty stood in front of him but adults are rarely so naive.
They'll think he's manipulated the boy into letting him enter their home so he can rob them blind.
"Oh? Okay well we can do it out here but the bins kinda smell. "
It’s not just the bins, there's no doubt if he went inside the kid would know he also has not seen clean water in a while and soap in even longer.
"The smell is of no consequence" Viktor huffs, hoping the kid doesn't persist.
"If you're sure? " he shrugs.
The box is placed between them and before Viktor can examine it further there is a hand outstretched over it as if to shake.
He looks between the hand and the boy offering it.
"what?"
"I'm introducing myself" he grins.
"My name is Jayce Talis, I'm 13 years old. I like magic and making stuff and my mom and I own the Forge." It comes out too quick like a metaphysical damn had just burst and the words gushed out in a frenzie.
Viktor is so surprised for a moment by the outburst that he actually laughs.
The sound was strange and rough in his throat.
Jayce looks confused for a moment but soon realises how funny he'd sounded and giggles to himself.
"It is nice to meet you Jayce, I am Viktor, I am 15 and I…
(what? am rummaging through scrap to feed myself? - I live in a hollowed out shack with my alcoholic father that can't stand the sight of me?)...
“I… also like making things"
Viktor's voice started off almost matching Jayce's energy but soon became stilted and melancholy.
If Viktor's inner turmoil showed on his face, Jayce doesn't pseem deterred.
"That's so cool! We could make things together some time, you should show my uncle what you wanna make and he'll help like he did with my toy robots.”
Somehow Jayce seems to have the uncanny ability to pour sunshine and warmth into whatever dark pit Viktor’s mind falls into.
His earlier ruminations forgotten, they begin to delve into Jayce's box of scraps.
It became apparent that he had compiled a venerable treasure trove for Viktor.
Scrap metals he could sell for smelting, unwanted tools like the hammer and a wrench.
There were parts of a broken soldering iron that Viktor might be able to salvage but even then, he didn't have any solder so it would only really be good for selling on.
Once sorted, Viktor had a sizable haul. He could even start working on a prototype leg brace if he could sell enough iron scraps for the parts.
"I must say, Jayce, you have an eye for materials. I must apologise for my earlier behaviour, I was perhaps too... cautious of your kindness and it was wrong of me to assume ill intent."
"I can understand that, not everyone is trying to look out for others, but that's part of the reason we should, right?"
"Perhaps a touch over simplified, but nonetheless, a noble sentiment. "
"You gonna be okay getting all this home?" Jayce says, testing the weight of Viktor’s backpack.
"I will take what I can, I don't want to be caught overloaded if set upon by another street gang"
"Street gang? You think you'll run into one?"
“Eh, they are less common this side of town” Viktor shrugs. “But in the factory district they are harder to avoid”
“You live there?”
Viktor knows instantly that he has said too much.
He searches Jayce's face for disappointment or revulsion at the news that he lives in one of the roughest parts of Zaun, but mild surprise and what might be veiled concern are the only things he can decipher in Jayce's expression.
The people there are mostly decent but it was widely known that crime gangs operate out of a number of the warehouses. Which lead to higher rates of crime in the area as a whole.
Viktor's father worked at one of those warehouses for a man Viktor had only seen once, named Silco.
It hadn't always been the case, once a proud physicist from the far north climbing the ranks in his field until he took a position at Piltover Academy.
Viktor never found out why his father was fired from his job, but his fall from grace landed him with a cripple for a son and a wife that died in childbirth.
"Viktor, do you want me to ask one of the blacksmiths to take you? I would feel better knowing you got home safe. "
"It is nothing Jayce, nothing I am not well-versed in.” Viktor sighed, pushing his too long hair from his tired eyes
“Besides I am not a big target" Viktor say as he gestures to himself.
Jayce could not say his long legs and spindly arms covered by dirty, barely fitting fabric suggested he would be carrying anything of value.
"In fact I would argue that looking like I carry something that requires me to have protection is a sure-fire way to get jumped, no?"
He had a point, but Jayce still looked uneasy. Viktor thought for a moment for a way to ease the boys mind.
"I will take less today and come for the rest another time then. Just to be sure the goods are not all lost in one go?"
Jayce's brows pinch and Viktor doesn't know what he's said wrong. Did he not want him to come back?
Viktor could understand Jayce not wanting to get in trouble for inviting an urchin like himself back to essentially loot their business.
"Or not? I don't have to if you do not want? I can just go."
"Viktor" Jayce’s voice is a pained mumble like he's talking with a particularly frustrating child.
"I'm not worried about the goods." He says meeting Viktor’s confused gaze.
"I'm worried about you"
"Oh..."
He pauses too long, and Jayce raises a hand to reach for Viktor’s shoulder.
He sees it coming and braces for the touch but can't help the flinch. It was so close to his face. Still not safe.
Still, Jayce’s hand remained planted, strong and warm. Fingers squeezed in what he supposed was reassurance, but he couldn't help stepping away.
Jayce let him go and just watched him move to retrieve his now loaded backpack.
"If it’s the scrap they want Vik, please just throw the bag and run. "
"The most I can promise is a moderate shuffle Jayce. "
Jayce barked out a laugh and Viktor felt like he was tasting fresh air for the first time in years, seeing the smile he'd placed on the other boy's face.
"I thank you Jayce, you have been too kind."
"Will you be back tomorrow, Viktor?"
"Perhaps" Viktor takes a moment to consider his best course of action.
"It depends how quickly I can sell these trinkets you have gifted me" he concludes with what he hopes is a greatful smile.
"Okay well, please be safe Viktor"
Viktor could promise nothing.