Chapter Text
The Defender of Tomorrow was dead.
Papers flew with the news a week after he disappeared from the public eye. A week after their last fight.
Viktor had already guessed. Jayce hadn't been in his lab when he had broken in the day after the fight, which was unusual but not uncommon. What started his worries was when he broke into the Defender's home next and he wasn't there, either. The Machine Herald would spend the rest of the days leading up to the reveal bouncing between the two when he could, at first to keep an eye out for his ex-colleague, but then to wallow.
He had known one of hits had likely gone too far, but Jayce had gotten up as he normally had, so Viktor had hoped…
So by the time the cities were beginning their mourning period, Viktor was already in the throes of his own and at least three days' worth of drink.
Which was how he found himself breaking into and stumbling through one of Piltover's more seemly cemeteries for a mausoleum that so far only one publication had mentioned in passing. Viktor had had to pull strings and grind his teeth through trading favors in order to simply find the actual location. In doing so he had learned that the resting space hadn't been covered by either the Gioparas or the Ferroses, but by Jayce himself with what looked to be a build up of savings from over the years.
Despite having left his workshop costumed Viktor found himself helmetless by the time he made it to the cemetery. The full bottle of alcoholic swill he had brought with him was now halfway gone. It had been meant as a parting gift, but memories had plagued him as he left the Lanes and the previous drinks were helping their edges remain sharp where he had wished they would dull.
This new bottle hadn't been helpful either.
The mausoleum was small, but relatively nice. Not that Viktor was well-versed in the fineties of Piltover's burial politics. It was mainly built from large, cold, rough gray blocks and was just tall enough for an average person to stand inside.
The shingled roof was made of the same dull-colored stone and came to a peak, and at the front top was a long brass pyramid speared through the center of a crooked gear. The sharp point of the decoration pierced Viktor's heart in much the same way
There was only one door to the building, made of polished black granite that glinted in the fading evening light. The mask of the Mother had been carved into the dark stone, with blue glass inlaid in her eyes. On either side of the door were small alcoves with statues of the Kindred— Wolf on the right and Lamb on the left. They were simply the same gray as the rest of the building.
Viktor snorted at the depictions of the deities and took a swig from the bottle.
"So are they there for show or for the money?" he grumbled as he tucked the bottle under his arm so he could work on picking the lock. "You never told me anything regarding death and your beliefs. It was always about the projects for you."
An extra ache added to his heart at the realisation.
"This wasn't how I wanted…"
Viktor trailed off into his own thoughts as the latch clicked and the dark door swung inwards. The crypt was dark inside, the only light filtering in past his own silhouette. His mechanical eyes adjusted for the light levels until everything was in shades of gray. It felt like it matched his drunken mood as he kicked the door mostly shut behind him and took in the inside.
"Honestly it didn't seem like something you would think about, with how gungho you were with everything," he muttered, looking over the casket that was on a stone shelf portuding from the wall to the left of him. "Eh, but looking back… maybe it was something you thought of often. You were always rushing. No apparent care for others around, as long as it was you who reached the finish line."
Another dry huff of a laugh escaped him as he drank and stared at the long polished wooden box. It had only been a week, but already a thin layer of dust had gathered on the lid. Without thinking Viktor leaned over and ran his hand through it, clearing off the curved edge. His voice was soft in the dead air around him. "How's your prize, Giopara?"
There was a sudden burning in his throat and at the corners of his eyes, despite that he had removed his tear ducts a long time ago. He got lost staring into the sheen of the expensive wood at the head of the casket, as if he would be able to see his old lab partner if he only looked hard enough. On the wall near the end of Jayce Giopara's head was the man's name in simple, carved script with his birth and death already added below it. The edges were sharp and new.
The palm of Viktor's hand itched and his chest hitched. The fans in his chest cavity kicked into gear to better regulate his body temperature. His attention was pulled back from those stone edges back to the dust gathered on his hand. Thoughtfully he massaged the small granulars. "This isn't what we expected at all, all those years ago, my friend. Wasn't it supposed to be me who went first?"
He grimaced at how the grime dulled his own hand and wiped it on his pants-leg. "All these achievements, these augments simply to keep up and you just go and…"
Viktor's throat caught again and he turned so he no longer had to look at where the Defender's body was shielded from him. His head dropped into his hands and even without tears, a sob wracked through him.
Everything hit hard once more and his teeth snarled as his hands twisted into his own hair. The heels of his palms pressed into his mechanical eyes until the natural nerves still present sent bursts of light through the synthetic receptors. This wasn't fair! It had always been both of them or neither. How could Jayce leave him like this?
The Machine Herald stayed there as time stretched on and the daylight was lost, curled in on himself as he mourned someone he had been so sure he had hated only a week ago. It was either he hid himself in his hands or scream until he was carted away by enforcers for breaking in. Until the pain stopped.
By the time he finally was able to lift his face out of his hands once more his scalp had gone tingly and numb from how tight he had been pulling, and his eyes needed to adjust once more to the lowered light levels.
Another shelf across from him loomed out of the darkness. It was empty, level with Jayce's own to hold an equal. How he hadn't noticed was beyond him, but now that Viktor could see it the empty space seemed to beckon to him.
Slowly, as if approaching some frightened animal, Viktor stood and moved to the shelf. Who was it truly for? Viktor could think of no one else important enough to the Defender of Tomorrow that he would reserve them a space in his personal, private crypt. Admittedly, it had been ages since he himself played an active semi-friendly role in the man's life but surely there would have been news announcements. At the very least, a word of them as a mourner that very week.
But when he was able to gather the courage to look to the wall at the head of the shelf the only name he saw carved there was his own. Underneath was only his birthdate.
Ice crept over his still-human heart and shaking fingers reached out to feel the sharp outline of a prophecy yet to be fulfilled. When had Jayce designed Viktor's burial plot right alongside himself? Literally carved space for him to reside with the man in whatever afterlife there was?
When had he been planning to tell him?
His heart now raced in his chest as Viktor pulled his half-metal body up onto the ledge. He laid face down and only the porous stone pressed to his chest seemed to calm it.
Finally lain to rest next to the one man he had ever felt matched him in everything but where it counted, Viktor came to a decision.
It was not Jayce's time. He had lost that privilege.
Viktor had not asked him to provide him a crypt. Had not granted him permission to decide where his final resting place would be.
Despite his own hand having caused it, Viktor had not given him the permission to even die.
Therefore, Viktor would be revoking the Defender's right to a peaceful rest.