Summary: The other heroes throw a surprise party for Virgil to show their appreciation.
Notes: Written for the Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe @tss-camp-and-coffee ! Just something short and sweet. Hope you enjoy!
Prompt:
@thatdesolatefander
Small 500-999 words
Mocha (Superpowers) with Heavy cream (Fluff) featuring Cranberry (Virgil).
Please include: Crushed animal cookies (Animal traits)
AO3 link
~*~
Another long day. A routine patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. A few lingering aliens from the last invasion, a few petty criminals. Virgil dealt with them without much issue. After returning to the tower, Logan suggested taking some time to freshen up before meeting the rest of the team in the main lounge. So Virgil did.
As soon as Virgil opened the door, the room exploded in color and light and sound. He shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears as he stumbled back.
"SURPRISE!" Multiple voices shouted, followed by party horns.
Surprise? What the hell? Just in case, Virgil let out a series of clicks and listened for the echo. Three people: one winged, one with frog legs, one with shiny robotic parts. His team. He took a breath and opened his eyes, stepping into the room and blinking a few times to adjust to the light. The room was covered in colorful streamers and banners. There was a large chocolate cake on the table, and three wrapped boxes. His teammates were beaming at him.
Well, everyone except Logan, who sighed. "I warned you that a celebration this bright and loud might startle him," he said to the team, then looked back at him. "Apologies, Virgil, and congratulations."
It still didn't make any sense. "For what?" Virgil asked.
"Today marks exactly one year since you joined our team," Logan explained, with what passed as a smile. "We believed it to be a momentous occasion."
"A full year of vanquishing villains by our side!" Roman proclaimed with a flourish, the tips of his phoenix wings briefly aflame for dramatic effect.
A year. He hadn't even meant to stay that long but now…
"We're so proud of you kiddo!" Patton gushed, hopping up and down on his frog legs. "Can I give you a hug?"
Still processing, Virgil shrugged and let him. Patton squealed and engulfed him in a hug. Virgil hugged back, letting his wings wrap around them both like a leathery blanket.
When it started feeling too constricting, Virgil gently extracted himself and looked back at the others. "So… why all this? Do you all celebrate your team-anniversaries too?" He didn't remember any other parties like this, unless they did it in private— which he wouldn't hold against them.
"Well, we all joined the same time, and we wouldn't want you to feel left out," Patton said. "We want you to feel apart of the team, of the family. We care about you."
"Your skills and powers are valuable," Logan added. "Your quick thinking and echolocation have saved our lives on multiple occasions. We would not have succeeded without you. In addition, I… enjoy your presence. It is nice to have someone who prefers quiet activities, someone who takes threats seriously and is willing to plan ahead."
"I admit I had my doubts, but time and again you have proven yourself a worthy ally," Roman said. "You are brave and strong, with a good heart beneath that shadowy facade. You work well with a team and truly, you make us…. better."
Virgil pulled his hood tighter, trying and failing to hide his blush. "Look, I appreciate you trying, and it's real sweet, but just… I don't need all this. Really."
"Too bad we're doing it!" Roman waved off his concern.
"Do ya want cake or presents first?" Patton asked.
Well. Looked like he wouldn't be able to back out now. "Uh… presents, I guess," Virgil said with a shrug. He wasn't sure if his stomach would appreciate the sweets just yet.
Logan handed him the box wrapped in space-themed paper. Inside there were two oddly shaped devices resembling speakers. "I enjoyed the challenge of creating headphones that would work better with your unique chiropteran ears. It may take further trial and error— please do let me know if they require any adjustments."
Virgil stared at the headphones. It must have taken hours, days, to design and build. He swallowed. "Wow… that's really cool. Thanks," he settled for with an awkward thumbs up. He lifted one to his ear, trying it on. Better than human style ones, for sure.
"My turn!" Roman announced, practically shoving the red and gold box into his arms.
"Jeez Princey, one at a time!" Virgil set the headphones aside and opened Roman's gift. A new uniform, sleek and sturdy, dark as night with a faint metallic sheen. There were openings for his wings and ears. Clearly tailored specially for him.
"Bulletproof, fireproof, and best of all stylish!" Roman boasted. "Flexible too, it won't get in the way of fight or flight. You're one of us, you deserve the best!"
"… Thank you. I'll, um, try it on later."
"Here you go, kiddo!" Patton said, passing over the last box, in sky blue paper.
There was a hand drawn card on top. "MVH - Most Valuable Hero! We love you Virgil!" A large yellow star and several smaller hearts, all drawn in crayon.
Under the card there was a huge fuzzy blanket, more than large enough to wrap around himself and his wings. Not nearly as complicated as the other two gifts, but just as heartfelt. "Thanks, Pat," he said around the lump in his throat.
Patton beamed at him. "So glad you like it!"
"I'll cut the cake!" Without waiting for a response, Roman used his sword to cut into the cake.
"I am not certain that's sanitary," Logan muttered.
Roman scoffed. "Oh don't worry, I sharpened and cleaned the sword earlier today."
Virgil stifled a laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous and overwhelming, but some small part of him warmed at their shows of affection, proof that they wanted him here and that he wasn't just a burden. It was nice.
Summary: Jayce is stopped at the gate of the commune, unable to leave his weapon but not quite desperate enough to charge in alone. Viktor meets him outside to talk and offer his help. A surprise encounter with a friend could turn the tides— for better or for worse.
Notes: I know I'm not the first person to write a "what if Jayce didn't shoot Viktor in the commune" fic but I wanted to put my own spin on it, so here it is. Hope you enjoy!
TWs: traumatic flashbacks, nausea, mind control, hivemind, mentioned character death
AO3 link
~*~
Reality did not want him. He kept getting pulled back to the apocalyptic future where everything went wrong. But he made a promise. He had to see it through.
Jayce gripped his hammer tightly as he approached the gate. A man— construct?— stood waiting.
The world tilted. The sky went dark. The corrupted husk reached for him.
Jayce stumbled back and activated the hammer, bracing for a fight.
A heartbeat later, the present rushed back to him. The sky brightened. The gatekeeper waited, still partly human.
“No weapons. This is a place of peace,” the gatekeeper said. “We mean no harm.”
“Like hell,” Jayce snarled. “Where is he?”
The gatekeeper’s eyes changed to fully opalescent, as Salo’s had when Viktor took over. “Jayce. Please put down the hammer. No one else need die.” Viktor’s voice echoed through the shell’s mouth.
“Viktor. You have to stop this. Let them go.”
“Go? Go where?” The body tilted its head to the side. “If you prefer to speak properly, I will meet you outside. But I insist that you do not fire your weapon nor bring it into the commune. These people are under my protection, I give my word that none will harm you.”
Puppets on his strings. Jayce felt sick. His head spun. Was he too late? Gods, he hoped not. It couldn’t be. There had to still be a chance, somehow.
“Jayce? You are not well. Wait there, please. I will join you in a moment.” There was a clear note of concern in his unnatural voice.
Jayce dropped his hammer and fell to the ground, holding his head. Visions clashed. Hordes of undead husks. Ashes and blood. The chasm. Wild runes everywhere. He couldn’t—
A hand touched his arm. His mind stilled.
“Jayce. Breathe. I am here. I will help you through this,” Viktor murmured. His voice echoed less, but it still wasn't natural. “Breathe.”
Jayce wrenched himself free. “No, don’t! Don’t touch my mind! Don’t turn me into one of them!” His breathing quickened. This was all wrong!
Viktor held up his hands and backed away a step. “I swear I will not alter you through magic without your consent, if that is what you fear. I know your mind has been harmed by the Arcane and I do not wish to exacerbate it.”
Jayce waited for his heart to stop pounding out of his chest. That was close, too close. How could he have almost failed so soon? He looked back at Viktor. His partner's hair was longer, much longer, and somehow lighter at the tips. How much time has passed here? Viktor wore a strange tunic, adorned with metal bits, which showed much of his altered flesh. Jayve blinked. Wait. He knew that fabric.
"You kept it. My blanket," he blurted.
"Hm?" Viktor glanced down at himself, then smiled faintly and touched the familiar blue fabric. "Ah. Yes. It.. reminds me of you, of your kindness and generosity. I do not wish to part with it. Unless you want it back?"
Jayce shook his head. "No, keep it, please. I'm glad it could comfort you when I couldn't." It was a good sign, Viktor hadn't completely lost his humanity yet. There was hope.
"Thank you. Let us walk, just a few steps this way, so we do not block the path," Viktor suggested, gesturing to an alcove to the right of the gate. "Can you make it that far?"
Jayce glanced over, then nodded and picked up his hammer. A burden that only he could carry; the burden of the future and past sins. He trudged after Viktor. His fingers twitched on the trigger. He had to stop the doomed future from occurring. It was Viktor's fault. Viktor trusted him. One blast would stop everything.
I won't fail.
But how could he harm his partner? No matter how far Viktor may have strayed, he was still Viktor. His partner, the one person who understood him, who he would do anything for.
He couldn't.
Jayce flinched as pain flared in his skull, gritting his teeth.
Staring at his petrified husk, holding the same hammer, failing and dooming the world.
Jayce shook his head. No. That wouldn't happen here. He wouldn't let it.
Viktor glanced back at him, as if sensing his distress. "Jayce? Are you still with me?"
Jayce shook himself, then nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.
"Good. Here is far enough. Please, sit." Viktor sat on the ground a few feet away, then nudged a basket of fruit and a canteen towards him. “Here, you should eat something. Drink some water. I fear you may have been poisoned.”
Poisoned was one way to put it. The land itself had been corrupted. Gods, was it still affecting him? Was it so obvious? Jayce dropped the hammer and sat down heavily. He looked at the offerings suspiciously, his traitorous stomach growling. “Did you… summon that?”
“The fruit was grown with soil and water and sunlight, as with any other fruit. The water has been purified. It is not poisonous, nor augmented by magic.”
Good enough. Jayce snatched a fruit and bit into it. Sweet, juicy, flavorful. Perfectly ripe. Gods, it was the best thing he ever ate. Or at least within the last… however long he was trapped for.
Forcing himself to eat something, anything. Ripping into the slimy flesh of salamanders.
The putrid taste mixed with the sweetness of the fruit. His stomach lurched. He reached for the canteen and swallowed. Cool fresh water. Clean water.
He reached for another fruit, and another. The lingering sour taste finally faded. Before he realized it, the basket was empty. Jayce wiped the juices dripping from his mouth and washed down the meal with more fresh water.
Viktor waited for him to eat his fill. “What happened to you? Talk me through it. What did you see?”
Jayce shook his head. “These people, you’re not healing them. You’re… hollowing them out. If you continue down this path, there won’t be anyone left. You… you need to stop. All this.”
Viktor frowned. “I am only removing the sources of their suffering. They are happy and healthy. What could be wrong with that?”
“You really expect me to believe that thing wearing Salo’s face was still Salo?” Jayce scoffed. “We both know he was the vainest person on the council! He would never willingly help anyone, never be so… humble.”
“And that is why you killed him? Because you thought he was incapable of changing for the better?”
"That's not what I meant. Viktor, listen to me. It’s the Hexcore, the Arcane. It’s… it’s trying to corrupt you, use you, by giving you what it thinks you want. You’re spreading its corruption under the guise of helping people. It’s all a lie." Jayce took a breath, looking at his partner with all the hope he could muster. "But it’s not too late. You can stop it all here and now, save them by letting them go."
Viktor sighed and shook his head. "No, I thought you would understand. I trusted you to understand, and still you find ways to disappoint me." Viktor stood. “Perhaps whatever it is you saw is still clouding your mind. Give it time to settle, and we will speak again.”
Jayce reached up and grabbed his hand. “Wait. Let me show you.” He swallowed his fears. “You see into people’s minds, right? Look into mine. Just.. swear you won’t change anything.”
Viktor looked down at him, confusion flickering in his opal eyes. “Are you certain you want me to look so deeply? It will leave a mark where my fingerprints touch, and a… mental tether of sorts. I will attempt not to change anything else, but once we start it will be difficult to stop.”
He wasn’t sure about anything, he was terrified. He couldn’t fail. He was out of his depth and Viktor wasn’t listening to him. The marks and tethers were the start of the end. Was it worth the risk?
He hesitated too long. Viktor sighed. “I will take that as a no. Regardless, you need rest. I can create a tent for you here outside the gates.”
Jayce shook his head. “I don’t want anything created by magic. It’s corrupt. You can’t see it yet, but it is.”
Viktor frowned. “Will you allow my followers to build you one by hand?”
“I want nothing from your puppets,” Jayce spat.
“They are not my puppets,” Viktor protested.
“You can take control of them at any time!”
The husks shambling after him, reaching for him, always watching. Salo and the gatekeeper speaking with Viktor's voice. So many people lost.
“I ask their permission before doing so, and they can always take control back," Viktor replied evenly. "It is a mutual give and take, it does not hurt them."
“You’re not getting it!" Jayce tugged at his hair as if he could yank out the visions and throw them in Viktor's face. "You can’t just control people like that!”
Viktor was still maddeningly unmoved. “You are upset, feverish, sleep deprived, malnourished, and shaken by your experience. I do not wish to argue with you in this state, Jayce. We are getting nowhere.”
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out, and looked back at him. “Promise me that as long as I am here you will not alter anyone using magic.”
“These people need my help, Jayce. I cannot turn my back knowing I can save them.”
“At least the ones that aren’t on death’s door. The ones who can last another day or week, let them wait until we’ve fully talked this through. Please,” Jayce begged, searching his gaze. “Trust me.”
Viktor massaged his temples, looking away. “I… I can try. It is… difficult to resist. You remember the recursive impulse I mentioned upon waking? Even now, I feel the urge to heal your leg and your mind, but I resist because I value your comfort and trust. I do not wish to cause you further distress.”
“Keep fighting it. I know you can. My partner is still in there.”
A ghost of a smile touched his face. “There, that is the Jayce I know. As I am still myself,” Viktor said. “Now, rest, please. Do not strain yourself." He tilted his head to the side. "There are a few visitors, ones I have not healed that are not fully part of the commune. Would you allow them to tend to your wounds, by normal medical means, and bring supplies?”
Jayce nodded. It was a good compromise. There was still time. “Sounds fair."
“Good. Stay here and rest until they arrive.” Viktor nodded to him and left.
Jayce watched until Viktor passed through the gate. He averted his gaze from the commune itself, his skin crawling with the knowledge that so many people touched by the Arcane congregated within. On the other side were sheer cliff walls. Just like the chasm. Not any better. He lay on his back, looking up at the sky. That wasn't so bad. Cloudy but bright. His hammer was still within reach. Everything was fine.
He just had to be patient, and hope beyond hope that Viktor would see reason before it was too late.
Summary: Viktor has an unexpected visitor and helps her with a prosthetic. They bond over shared experiences and form an alliance.
Notes: A late entry to @arcanefandomweek ‘s Arcane Visions Week 1: Alliances. I need Viktor and Jinx to interact in season 2. Maybe they’d be friends. Maybe they’d just clash and collide. This is an exploration of how it might go. Inspired by a few trailers and promo posters, as well as some league lore; so beware potential spoilers!
Timeline wise… who knows? Just having fun with possibilities here.
TW: loss of limb, fictional drug (shimmer), cults, human experimentation
AO3 link
~*~
Viktor glanced up as a flash of blue burst into his workshop. Long blue hair. Jinx. Of course it was only a matter of time before she found him, whether he wanted her to or not. He set aside his tools and braced for the whirlwind.
She darted around the room, inspecting various prosthetics and chattering on about… something. He failed to see any train of logic, but she didn’t seem to be talking to him so he didn’t bother trying to decipher it.
“Please be careful not to break anything, some of these items are very fragile,” Viktor warned, before she could do anything too drastic.
Jinx turned to face him, eyes glowing purple. Shimmer. “Oh, there you are! Mr. Machine Herald! Almost didn’t see ya with all…” She gestured to the various parts and half-made prototypes surrounding him. He supposed his metal parts did blend in, but he rarely wanted to be found in the first place.
His gaze flicked to her left hand. Her middle finger was missing, the wound still leaking a mixture of blood and shimmer despite a crude bandage. “You’re hurt,” he blurted. “Let me help.”
She grinned. “I was hoping you’d offer! Can I get a cool upgrade? Like a giant middle finger with a laser or a blaster!”
“Let us start with the basics, hm? May I see?” he asked, holding out a hand.
She skipped over and slapped her injured hand into his. He winced in sympathy, then looked closer, taking a clean damp cloth in his free hand.
“How did this happen?” Viktor asked as he carefully removed the soaked bandage and cleaned the wound. He’d seen worse, it would likely be a simple fix.
“Stupid Piltie shot it off with stupid fancy gun. I could make a waaay better one!”
“A fancy gun, hm? What kind of fancy?”
“Oh something Hextech-y; it was glowing blue. But it didn’t explode, which is boring.”
Hextech. Jayce was making more weapons. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but still it stung. They both had failed to carry through on their promises. At least Viktor was trying to do good, but Jayce seemed to have fallen even further. Traitor.
“Hey, hey, easy on the grip!”
Viktor glanced back at her hand and loosened his grip. Something had to be wrong with the wiring of his hand to cause it to tighten so. “Apologies.” Then he cleared what remained of his throat and asked, “When did you last take shimmer? I am not judging— I have taken it myself— but it will affect how we continue, so please be truthful.”
“Hm? Oh! I don’t take it! Not like that, pfft no. The doctor did some funky experiment to save my life a while ago and I’ve been purple ever since!”
Viktor stiffened. “The doctor did this to you? Singed?”
“Yep!” Jinx nodded emphatically.
Another experiment. A human experiment. His gut twisted. Viktor knew Singed had done terrible things in the name of science. Shimmer was one of them, a double-edged sword. But this seemed a step further. Shimmer created within a human body. Had she become the new Rio? Gods, he hoped not.
Viktor shook his head. “Eh, anyway, would you prefer the prosthetic to be fused to your flesh or easily replaceable?”
Jinx tapped her chin. “Hmm… replaceable. That way I can make my own upgrades!”
“Understandable.” Viktor wrapped the wound with a clean bandage. The shimmer still in her system would likely help it heal faster regardless. He used the Hexclaw as an extra hand to make a few measurements and jot them down, then moved to find the necessary parts.
“Are you really all robot?” Jinx asked.
“Eh… not entirely.” He shrugged. “Perhaps eventually I will be.”
“That’s what your cult wants, right? The ‘Glorious Evolution’ or whatever?”
He scoffed. “They are not my cult. I do not ask for it, I do not want them following me.”
“I didn’t ask for mine either!” Jinx laughed. “Funny how that works. Just wake up one day and boom! Everyone dying their hair blue and begging for prosthetics!”
“Mm. These things are out of our control.”
“Don’t they listen to you?”
Viktor shrugged again. Mostly he avoided them and pretended they didn’t exist. “I have tried occasionally, but they find a way to twist my words to suit their purposes.”
“Mine would set Piltover ablaze for me if I asked,” Jinx said. “No one wanted anything to do with me before. My inventions never worked, or they exploded. I messed everything up.” Her voice cracked.
Viktor looked back at her, some small part of him softening. Another misfit, shunned by society. “No one really wanted me around either. I was a cripple and a foreigner. I spent much of my time away from my peers, but I preferred it that way. Someone I once knew told me that loneliness is the byproduct of a gifted mind, one of the few things he may have been right about. And sometimes we learn better from our failures than our successes, however painful it may be.”
Jinx’s eyes widened, staring at him. “Really?”
“It’s true.” Viktor hesitated a moment, trying to think of something else to reassure her. “I have seen your bombs. The design was very impressive, unique and effective. It was a challenge to defuse. You are very intelligent, Jinx. If you ever wish to put your mind to less destructive purposes, I would be glad to work with you.”
Jinx shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Here, watch.” Viktor pieced together a prosthetic finger, trimmed a bit to fit to her measurements. He attached it to a partial glove and held it out to her. Every step he explained, just in case she was interested. Perhaps it would help. “Try this on. It should fit underneath your other glove, if you wish.”
Jinx snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously. “That’s it?”
“For a basic prosthetic, yes. As you said, you can make upgrades as you see fit. For now, try it on, see if it works.”
Jinx put on the prosthetic, and he guided her through a few tests to ensure it was functioning properly. Once she passed the tests, Jinx flipped him off with the prosthetic. “It’s perfect!”
“Good, I’m glad you like it. Is there anything else?”
Jinx was quiet for a few seconds, fiddling with the prosthetic. “Sevika said I could unite the whole of Zaun if I tried.” She looked back at him. “Hey, we should unite our cults!”
Viktor squinted at her. “Unite our cults?”
“Yeah! Make an alliance!” Jinx grinned at him.
“I have no interest in attacking Piltover.”
Jinx blew a raspberry like a child. “Boring! Why not?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because of your fucking Piltie? Your Hextech partner? The Golden Boy of Progress? Are you still on his side?”
Viktor exhaled slowly, the fans of his ventilator whirring. He had to be careful. Antagonizing Jinx and her cult would be a terrible idea. “This isn’t about him. I do not wish to fight anyone, on either side. I am a scientist, not a soldier. My creations are to improve lives, not take them. I am only wary of what such an attack would mean for the common people, on both sides. Wars rarely end well.”
He took a breath, continuing before she could interrupt, “Perhaps we could simply have a truce between us? You tell your cult not to antagonize mine, and I do the same. If any of your cult require prosthetics, I would be happy to supply.” He would help anyone who stumbled into his workshop or requested his assistance, but still it was an olive branch. Whether his cult would listen was another matter, but he hoped they would.
Jinx tilted her head to the side, seeming to stare straight through him. “That’s all you want? Nothing about your Piltie?”
“Jayce is mine to deal with. I would greatly prefer if you leave him alive.”
“I can kidnap him for you and bring him here!”
“That is not necessary.”
“But you’d rather he be kidnapped than killed, right?”
That was undoubtably a threat. Fine. Jayce would be safer with him than any chem-barons. Viktor inclined his head. “Very well. If the opportunity arises to capture Jayce without severely harming him, you may bring him to me.”
“Great! It’s a deal!” Jinx bounced to her feet. “I’ve got something of yours. You gotta have something of mine now! Can I paint on you?”
Viktor hesitated. “What would you like to paint?”
“Just some blue clouds and stuff. You know, the more hopeful version of my symbol.” Jinx brandished a blue paint pen. “You can’t wash it off!”
It could be worse. “If you must. Just.. nothing too extreme.”
Jinx grinned and climbed on top of his chair to get closer, drawing on his metal chest plate and over his shoulder. Viktor remained perfectly still, watching her work. Blue swirls and clouds and sparkles. He could pretend it represented Hextech if asked. Or perhaps it would be better to admit their strange alliance.
Jayce would hate it.
Viktor craned his neck as she moved towards his back, careful not to jostle her. “How much are you drawing?”
“What, change your mind? Gotta make sure everyone can see it!”
“I did not change my mind. I am only curious.”
“Hold onto your horses, I’ll almost done!”
Viktor went still and silent once more. It was only paint. Jinx’s graffiti was everywhere in Zaun, hardly anything drastic.
“Ta-da!” Jinx hopped to her feet with a flourish. “What do you think?”
Viktor looked over the drawings, trying to think of something complimentary. It wasn’t his style, but he had no intention of insulting her. “You certainly have an artistic flair.”
“Thanks!” Suddenly she was hugging him.
Viktor froze for a moment, processing whether it was an attack or harmless. If she meant harm, he would certainly be dead already. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. When was the last time anyone had showed him such affection?
“Careful, you might smudge your drawings,” he said, half a joke.
“Don’t worry, it dries fast.” A moment later, she pulled away. “Well, see you around!” With a playful salute, she was gone.
Viktor watched her go. Emotions were strange illogical things, but perhaps it was not all terrible.
Excited to try this and see how it goes! Here is my character for @thewiprpgsocialboard
Name: Aster
Species: Fae
Region of Origin: Faewild's East
Interest: Intelligence
Personality: To most, Aster appears aloof and distant. She often has her head in the clouds, whether daydreaming or planning. When she does speak to other people, she is thoughtful and polite, and she never lies— at least not directly. Sometimes she talks to herself or to plants and animals, in a more rambling way. Aster is curious about the world around her— especially since she's never left the Faewilds before now. She finds joy in little things, from a flower blooming to soft fabrics to shiny things.
Desperate, Salo seeks out the mystery miracle worker in the Undercity. Nothing could have prepared him for the outcome and his new life.
Notes: When Lest mentioned the miracle worker to Salo, I wanted to see how that interaction played out. The show skipped over it, so I’m filling in the gaps. Even if Viktor believes he’s doing good, his “healing” gives weird vibes.
TWs: cults, Salo is classist and ableist until his personality gets rewritten by forces outside human comprehension, mental influence / hive-mind, mild body horror, magically healed disability
AO3 link
~*~
“You will take me to this… miracle worker. I will pay you double… no, triple your usual rate,” Salo said, head held high. The very thought of going to the Undercity made his skin crawl, but this wasn’t working. He needed something more.
“If you insist,” Lest said with a shrug. “You might want a disguise. Zaunites aren’t fond of Topsiders.”
Salo frowned. “It’s clear they hate us. The feeling’s mutual. What kind of… disguise did you have in mind?”
Lest looked back at him. “If you hate them so much, why bother?”
“I hate this more,” Salo retorted, gesturing to his useless legs. “The disguise?”
Lest threw him a mottled cloak that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in months. Salo barely managed not to gag, putting as much distance between it and his face as physically possible.
“You don’t want them to recognize you, wear something you’d never usually touch,” Lest said. “Hide your face. Besides, you said everyone averts their gaze when you roll by. Maybe no one will notice you anyway.”
She was right, but he wouldn’t admit it aloud. Salo scoffed and tossed her a coin pouch. Reluctantly he maneuvered himself to put on the repulsive cloak and let her take him to the Undercity.
It was just as he feared, perhaps even worse. Disgusting. Rotten. Decrepit. Beggars and thieves crowded the streets. Revolting creatures covered in filth. The air was thick with a foul stench. His stomach turned. Somehow no one attacked them. The disguise must have worked.
Then, there was light. A camp unlike any he had ever seen. Strange geometric archways with stained glass. Verdant gardens that nearly rivaled those above. The aroma of flowers filled the air. Laughter danced upon the breeze.
“Here is where I will leave you,” Lest said, stopping his chair.
Salo whirled on her, panic gripping his chest. “Don’t you dare abandon me down here!” he hissed.
Lest was infuriatingly not intimidated, looking down at him coolly. “I got you here. That was the deal. Your miracle worker is inside those gates.” Her ears twitched as she nodded towards the entrance. “Go on.”
A man with iridescent markings on his skin approached, wearing simple white robes. “Welcome. The Herald awaits. He heals all our ills.”
Salo sputtered, looking between them. This was not in his plan! But it was too late to turn back now; he was so close to a cure. He took a breath and smoothed his expression, sitting up straighter. “Lead me to this Herald of yours,” he said.
“Of course,” the man said, bowing. Then he took a step closer, reaching for the handles of the wheelchair. “Would you like me to—“
“I can manage myself.” Salo pressed the button to move his chair forward. Having one of them breathing down his neck would not do. He didn’t look back. Doubtless Lest would be gone already.
The man nodded and led the way, pointing out a few landmarks. The market, the forge, the greenhouse, the well. Salo barely listened, wanting to get it over with already.
The people seemed happy and at peace, going about their day as if everything was normal. Everyone had the same type of marking, on different parts of their bodies. The same unnatural eye color too.
“All here work in harmony for the betterment of all, doing their part to bring the Herald’s vision to life,” the man explained. “We all bring our skills to the table, even skills we were unaware of.”
“How quaint.” Salo rolled his eyes. He had no intention of working for anything. “Does everyone stay after their healing?”
The man shrugged. “Everyone has chosen to thus far. We have all we could ever want here. But we do not force anyone against their will.”
Soon they arrived at the golden orb-like structure. A church of some sort, perhaps, or a strange palace. Either way, it was clearly where the leader resided.
A man wearing blue robes walked out with the aid of a staff. His markings were similar to the rest of the commune, but a darker purple and covering nearly all visible parts of his body. His eyes shifted between pale colors. He had an aura of power about him. Doubtless this was the Herald.
“Councilor Salo,” the Herald said, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Or… not councilor anymore, I suppose. How desperate you must be to come here. You have changed since last we met.”
Salo tensed, glaring at the so-called miracle worker. “You mock me.”
“Mock?” The Herald tilted his head to the side. “No, I only state facts. You were a councilor, now you are not. Do you remember me? Or was I so far beneath your notice?”
Salo stared at him. Of course he would have remembered someone with such unique features. He’d never seen anything like it before coming here.
Except… that voice. There was a distorted echo to it, but it held remnants of an accent. An accent that was often raised in contempt of the council. And the face without the strange markings was… familiar.
The pieces fell into place. Salo’s eyes widened. “You were the Golden Boy’s assistant.” Salo found himself gaping and stopped. “But how? You were…” Nothing. No one. How had he risen so far in such a short time? It was inconceivable.
“Partner, not assistant,” the Herald corrected, then shook his head. “Not that it matters anymore. You would not understand. Hextech was beyond you, and this is beyond even Hextech. The Arcane has chosen me, and I have chosen to use such powers to heal.”
The Herald’s gaze went distant for a moment before refocusing on him. “But yes, you do remember. I remember, too, that you always hated the Undercity. My people. The attack fueled the fire to rage. But now… you have used Shimmer, and you are here.”
The longer he spoke, the more Salo’s surprise turned to impatience. He had rambled long enough. “Are you going to heal me or not?” Salo snapped.
“I will heal any who ask. I no longer hold grudges.” The Herald reached out a hand, which started to glow.
His touch burned hotter than any flame. The glow was blinding.
Salo wanted to scream as his legs were torn apart and rebuilt, every fiber of his being crying out. But not a sound escaped his lips.
Then an overwhelming calm washed over him. Bliss more than anything he had ever experienced. Peace. Tranquility. The Herald’s touch melted away every sorrow and fear, every imperfection whether physical or emotional.
Salo blinked and looked down to see his legs, reformed into a brilliant masterpiece, shimmering in the light. His clothes too had been transfigured into pure white garments.
“Stand and walk,” the Herald said. “Run, if you wish. It is a feeling unlike any other. When you are ready, you will know what to do. Welcome to your new life.”
Salo had never felt such joy as when he took that first step, laughing in pure elation. He was a new man, the best possible version of himself. All the riches of Piltover paled in comparison to the Herald’s vision. What could be better than working in harmony to bring about a perfect society? Free from pain, from suffering, from his own vanity. His eyes were open, his body and soul healed. He would gladly devote his life to the cause.
Summary: Thomas can’t take it anymore. He runs away to London, hoping to escape his ghosts, only to end up right back where he started.
[Aka filling in some scenes between episodes 4-6.]
Notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, but I realized we were sitting at 99 total fics on ao3 which motivated me to finally finish it and post. This is now the 100th fic yay! Also it almost feels like some scenes were cut in regard to Thomas, so I wanted to explore a little of what he was up to between scenes.
Everywhere Thomas looked, his father’s dead face glared back at him. His father’s voice constantly mocked and berated him. It made him want to scream— sometimes he couldn’t stop himself.
And Poynton. Poynton was coming. Poynton who got them all into this mess. Poynton with his words like honeyed poison.
Thomas couldn’t take it. He had to escape. He snapped at the nearest servant to prepare the carriage, then stalked to his room to pack his things.
”Weak, pathetic, coward,” his father’s voice sneered.
Thomas flinched, but didn’t bother responding. He knew he was and he hated it. He couldn’t hold up the facade of being otherwise, not without help.
Not long after, he heard his sister’s footsteps approach. “What exactly are you doing?” Sofia asked.
“Leaving. Going to London. You can’t stop me.” Thomas stuffed some random clothes into a bag.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? With your—“
Thomas whirled on her. “Stop! Just stop. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going. If I stay here one day longer I’ll go mad. I can’t…” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You won’t listen to me about Poynton, fine. Dig your own grave, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I will not be under the same roof as him ever again.”
Sofia reached out to put a hand on his arm. “If you are truly set on this…” She sighed. “Perhaps a change of scene would be good for you. I’ll cover for you here. Just… be careful, please.”
Thomas shrugged her off. “Good. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” If ever.
“Will you at least write?”
“Maybe.” He doubted there would be much to write about, if he’d even be sober enough to string together anything coherent.
“Farewell, then.”
Thomas simply nodded to her and went back to preparing his things. He heard her footfalls retreat and the door close behind her.
~*~
London was as he remembered it. Bustling and loud and colorful. The perfect escape to lose himself in.
Time passed in a blur. He drank. He followed his old friends around to their usual hangouts. He fell back into old patterns of gambling and cards. He almost managed to forget. Sometimes he thought he saw a glimpse of his father’s ghost, but it would quickly be lost in the crowds. His friends helped distract him.
The hangovers were torturous, but he’d gladly take that over the horror that home had become. It was worth it. It had to be. What else could he do?
~*~
Then the worst happened. Poynton’s men found him in his room, while he was vulnerable and alone. Poynton strode over to him.
Thomas froze, staring at them. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? How much had he drank again? This couldn’t be happening. His head hurt, his stomach twisted in knots.
“Neither are you,” Poynton said, calm and collected as always, his voice soft almost to the point of patronizing. “I’m here to take you home, Thomas.”
“No!” Thomas staggered back and tripped over a chair. The fall didn’t help, he didn’t wake up. “No, I won’t go back! You can’t make me!”
Poynton looked down at him and sighed. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Let me help you.”
Thomas shrank back. “Leave me alone!”
“I promised your sister I would return with you. You wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings, now would you?”
She betrayed him. How could she? He never should have told her where he was going. He should have disappeared off the face of the earth entirely. No one would miss him.
“Come now, Thomas.” Poynton took a step closer and offered his hand. The snakes on his ring twisted and danced. Thomas couldn’t look away as much as he wanted to.
”Sleep, Thomas. Sleep. All will be well. Sleep,” the voices whispered.
The world went black.
~*~
The next time Thomas woke he was in his father’s bedroom, with his father’s ghost glaring at him.
There was no escape. Nowhere he could run without being dragged back to hell.
Summary: A look into Billy Blind’s mind leading up to his decision to introduce himself, and a slight variation on the scene itself.
Notes: Dipping my toes into the fandom with a little character study thing. Some canon dialogue, some lines tweaked or added. Technically more canon adjacent with the main difference being that Billy is slightly less stupid and slightly more fae, but events continue in roughly the same way.
AO3 link
Billy Blind knew two things: that humans were fragile but wonderful creatures, and that he had magic they didn’t. His powers came from light, from laughter and love, from all that was good and right. He could imbue a chosen human with strength and agility beyond their wildest dreams— but only for protection, never for personal gain. He could change his size and appearance, become invisible or intangible at will. He could see brief glimpses into the future— warnings of approaching danger or a sense that someone would do great things— but his past was lost to him.
Sometimes he’d hear a whisper of song, a long-forgotten tune that tugged at his heartstrings and filled him with longing. Something beyond mortal senses, something that was no longer his. Mushroom circles reminded him of a home he could scarcely remember; a doorway locked and barred, unable to be seen but there all the same.
When Billy first set eyes on Nell Jackson, he knew with every fiber of his being that fate had brought them together for a reason. She would be his human, his chosen vessel, his connection to the mortal realm. She was strong, stronger than she knew— not only in body, but in heart and spirit and mind. She stood up for herself and others.
It didn’t take long for Billy to realize she was maddeningly unpredictable as well. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, no, it kept things exciting! But still, it meant he had to adapt. He couldn’t make a proper deal, no, she jumped straight into danger before he could consider saying a word, and well now he had to protect her, didn’t he? So he did. That time, and the next, and the next, and blimey did she end up in danger rather often!
~*~
Billy watched from a distance as Nell returned home. She should be safe now, theoretically, but he still didn’t want to leave her. There was more to the story, their tale was not yet complete.
He learned that she had family, two younger sisters and a father. Everyone in town suspected she had died in the war with her husband. If Billy hadn’t intervened, she likely would have. Wars were terrible things. The local lord’s son had been wreaking havoc on her home town— which meant she wasn’t safe here after all and she still needed Billy’s protection. All the more reason to stay, at least a little while longer.
Billy respectfully did not watch as Nell went through her wardrobe transformation, but still he kept an ear out just in case. The sisters were catching up with each other; the subject moved to Nell’s late husband.
“I do miss him a bit. Except I don’t think he’s left me, even if he is dead,” Nell said. “It’s like today, I got held up by these highwaymen. And one of them hit me. And it’s like… I don’t know, something happens to me inside and… you should see me. I’m untouchable.”
Oh no. No, no, no! That wasn’t what he meant! Billy didn’t even know her late husband— or if he did he couldn’t remember. Perhaps the man’s death had somehow drawn Billy to her, but even if so, they weren’t the same person. Billy most certainly was no ghost, he was a fairy. Keeping up this ruse would be a lie. That wasn’t right.
He had to tell her the truth, somehow. When the time was right.
~*~
Billy watched as Nell made a fool of herself, wincing as that lord’s son threw her around like a sack of potatoes. But there were rules. She started it. She could stand to take a few punches. She had to learn a lesson in caution; throwing herself recklessly into danger expecting him to save her wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t always bail her out of situations she willingly got herself into. His powers were a special gift, not something to be wasted on petty quarrels.
There was a limit.
If her life was threatened, he could step in. If the lives of those she cared about were threatened, he could step in. If she was in danger of permanent injury, he could step in.
The whip was danger enough. One lash he let slip, seeing it would barely graze her cheek.
Then he shrunk into a speck of light and dove into her, filling her lungs and veins with his power. It was invigorating, disorienting, fulfilling. Time slowed around them. He felt her every move, her every emotion. They were one.
Her righteous fury filled him as his powers fueled her. A dangerous thing, that. But she got her revenge, and he protected her.
As soon as it was clear she and her family were safe, he withdrew and flew off, giving her some space and taking some time to think.
~*~
Now, the question was how? How could he reveal himself and get her to listen to a word he said?
He could try passing as a human. A simple glamor. The right size and shape as a normal man, nothing out of the ordinary. Say how he wanted to help, ask her opinion on magic, ease her into the reveal. That sort of thing.
But then again she had a habit of attacking anyone who frightened her or even looked at her the wrong way. That might be an issue.
He could try writing a note, explaining everything in detail and leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Except he knew she couldn’t read, and anyone who did read it would think it madness. Humans generally had difficulty believing in anything magical in nature, which was the whole problem to begin with.
Or he could just show up as himself and hope for the best. Put precautions in place so she wouldn’t hurt herself trying to fight him. Sometimes the simplest solution was most effective.
Right. Billy had to reveal himself. It had gone on long enough. He waited until they were alone in the middle of the night, less likely to be overheard.
“Nell. Nelly,” he whispered. When she barely acknowledged him, he shouted, “Nelly Jackson!” There, finally she moved!
“D-don’t scream,” he warned, then internally kicked himself. That was a foolish thing to start with. But he continued, “You need to look up.”
She opened her eyes, scanning the room, until finally she looked straight at him, eyes wide in shock. She saw him! Good. This was good.
“Oh, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out the best way to introduce myself without giving you a shock, Nelly Jackson,” Billy said. “Frankly, there isn’t one! Of course, it isn’t absolutely necessary that I should introduce myself.”
He stood on the beam, doing his best to appear more confident. “But in your case, I had a sneaking suspicion it might crop up sooner rather than later.” He flew towards her, slowly and cautiously.
Of course she immediately drew a pistol on him. Luckily he had prepared for that.
“So three things. One, I’m on your side. Two, that is not loaded.” He pointed to the gun. “And three, it won’t have any effect on me even if it was, for I am non-corporeal!” He did a little bow for effect.
“What do you mean you’re on my side?” Nell demanded. She didn’t lower the gun.
Clearly, words weren’t enough. Billy sighed. “Look at me,” he said, making sure she made eye contact before diving in and briefly sharing his powers. Just long enough for her to feel and acknowledge it, assuage her fears.
Then he flew out again and did a flip in midair. “I protect you!”
Nell stared at him, still wary, still holding the gun. “Why?”
“Because you are a very special person, Nell Jackson, and we will do great things together,” he said, believing every word and hoping she would too.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“I do, actually,” Billy countered. “I’ve been watching you. And I have the gift of foresight, a strong intuition and an excellent judge of character.”
Nell scoffed. “Watching me, have you?”
“A bit hard to protect you if I’m not around, yeah? I know you have a good heart, you’re brave, you stand up for the right things. Those are all good signs.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”
“No, you didn’t. But you like it, don’t you? The power. I heard you boasting about being untouchable— and that’s not entirely true.”
Ah, there, now he truly had her attention! She wavered, more curious than wary now. Good. “Feels untouchable, that power,” she said. “There some catch?”
Billy nodded. “The more immediate point is this: I can only protect you, Nelly Jackson. I will not take part in random acts of violence.” He landed on the pistol and walked across it.
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Like earlier this evening,” Billy clarified.
“What? He’s a bully! He’s an arrogant lout, and he hurts people,” Nell protested.
“Be that as it may, he didn’t start anything. You did.”
“No, he was gonna!”
Billy shook his head. “Ain’t the point. It was an unnecessary risk, egging him on like that. You knew he’d lash out, and you expected me to enhance your abilities. You can’t rely on it, Nelly. My powers are a gift. I chose to give them to you, and I can choose when not to.”
“No, wait. You mean you let him whoop me about and you could have stopped it?!”
“I did stop it.”
“Not sooner!” Nell shouted. “Like when he was grinding my face in the mud!”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Thank goodness! Something to distract her from her anger. This was not going to plan. Not at all.
Nell glanced at the door, then back at him. “Who sent you? Where are you from? Look at you. What are you dressed as?”
That was a lot of questions. Most of which he hadn’t the foggiest clue of. And that last one was just plain insulting. He liked his clothes, thank you very much.
Before he could reply, the knock continued. Nell shot him a warning look and a “wait right there” and went to answer it. After a few steps, she paused and glanced back at him. “What’s your name? I mean, do you got one?”
It was time to give his name, to complete the bond and give himself fully. This was his best chance, a way to save this mess of a conversation. He took a breath and smiled.
“Yeah. Billy. Billy Blind. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Nell Jackson, and I look forward to what we can achieve together.” There, done! He felt a warmth in his chest as the bond sealed. He was her fairy, and she was his human. It was all official now, even if they took a roundabout route to get there.
“I’ll catch you later.” With a wink and a clap, he turned into a spark and flew off before she could ask any further questions.
Summary: Something calls to Viktor through the Hexcore. Something dark and powerful. Something within him answers back. Viktor reaches out for help before it’s too late, seeking an alternate path.
Notes: Written for the Seasons Skirmish event, for saminating’s prompt “virus/corruption”. This was a fun excuse to explore a bit of Void!Viktor before the second season comes out! Hints of league lore, but I also took a few creative liberties. Hope you enjoy!
Tws: chronic illness, canonical character death (technically), partial possession, manipulation, nightmares, derealization, guilt, grief, questionable science/medicine, human experimentation (partially self-inflicted), amputation, body horror
AO3 Link
~*~
Viktor blinked, disoriented. There was no ground, yet he was standing. A glowing purple fog surrounded him. Dark tendrils like a tarred web were the only discernible landmarks in the endless mist. A strange gurgling-warbling-clicking echoed throughout.
“There you are. I was wondering when you’d show up,” a disembodied female voice said.
That sounded like—
“Sky?” Viktor spun around, searching for the voice.
“Right here, silly.” Sky smiled, appearing from the fog and walking towards him. “What did I tell you about fixing your sleep schedule?”
Viktor stared at her. “How is this possible? You shouldn’t— I saw you— your—“
“Does it matter? We’re here now. You’re overthinking.” Sky looked exactly as she had before she turned to ash.
“I’m sorry,” Viktor blurted. Whatever this was, however this happening, he had to say it. Once the words started, they kept tumbling out. “I… the Hexcore… I did not think it would take a life. I thought you had gone home for the night. I thought I was alone, that I was the only one at risk. I never wanted anyone to be hurt. I am sorry I did not notice you. That night and… before. You did not deserve to pay the price for my mistakes. It should have been me.”
Sky shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I live on, here.” She smiled again, an eager light in her eyes. “Don’t you feel it? The power of this place? The energy? The magic? Everything you wanted can be yours. I can help you get it.”
Viktor took a breath, and realized his lungs were clear. There was no tightness, no urge to cough. The energy she spoke of surged through him. The possibilities at his fingertips were endless. “How?”
“The Hexcore. You were right, Viktor! You were always right. I knew from the moment I met you that you would do wonderful things!”
Viktor frowned. “But it hurt you. I cannot risk that it will hurt others.”
Sky took a step closer. “Piltover never accepted you, never respected you. With the Hexcore, you could bring the city down. Make those arrogant pilties worship the ground you walk on and beg for your mercy. The Undercity could rise above.”
His stomach dropped. He took a step back on the non-existent ground. “You are not Sky. Neither of us would want that. What are you?”
Her expression went cold. “You never asked. You barely took the time to know me. We were both ignored, pushed aside, looked down on. Don’t you think they should pay for that?”
Perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he wished, but this… this seemed a step too far. Sky had always been kind, gentle, patient. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Viktor tripped over the tendrils, barely catching himself before he could fall. “You are not Sky,” he repeated. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Not-Sky tsked. “You are smarter than we thought,” she said, her voice echoing. “I am her memories, the memories that exist within what you call the Hexcore. She did truly care for you, you know, and you ignored her at every turn.” She tilted her head to the side. “We want knowledge, power, the same things you want. We can help each other. All it takes is sacrifice, more blood and more…” She paused, as if searching for the word, “Shimmer.”
“And if I refuse?”
“One way or another, you will join us. It would be best if you did so willingly. Think about it.”
Everything vanished in a bright purple flash, followed by a deep darkness.
Viktor jerked awake with a violent cough, hitting his leg on the desk. His heartbeat, the thrumming of the Hexcore, and the pulsing of his altered limbs were in perfect sync. Perhaps it was only a nightmare, but something about it felt far too real.
~*~
“You want the secrets of magic? I can show you,” Not-Sky offered. “I have access to memories of many mages over the years. Join me, and those memories will be yours as well.”
Brief flashes of runes and mages passed too quickly to follow. The tantalizing glimpse left him wanting more. Yearning to understand, to harness the power for good. No books could replace the first-hand experience of a master. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, one that very few could possibly see.
But the price was too much. This thing that he created was far too volatile to be trusted. He couldn’t.
~*~
Viktor worked in the lab during his waking hours. Testing equations and rune combinations, sketching designs, tinkering with whatever was on hand. He carved more rune-plates, although he wasn’t exactly sure what for. They could always be useful for something, or so he told himself.
After coughing blood into a handkerchief, his altered hand tossed it at the Hexcore. An offering, however small. He wasn’t sure if he meant to.
The Hexcore absorbed it and spun faster, its light glowing brighter. It almost sounded like a laugh, echoing and garbled.
~*~
The infinite purple fog was replaced with a vast landscape. A dark sea stretched out in the distance. Everything was twisted, metallic with an inner purple glow. There were creatures too, mutated beings made of the same substances; with too many limbs or not enough. Some had human parts mixed with animal or insect, but none seemed natural by any means. The ruins of a city, growing spines and bioluminescent fungus, somehow alive but not. Everything about it was wrong, corrupt, otherworldly— but there was a strange beauty to it beyond the horror.
“See? This could be Piltover,” Not-Sky said, gesturing to the spires. “Help me take it. Let me recreate it. The people will never harm you again. Those that are left will see you as a god, honor you with the respect you deserve.”
Viktor shook his head, dread pooling in his stomach. “This is not what I want. Stop. Please.”
Not-Sky only smiled. “I know you, Viktor. I see into your mind. Deep down, I know you want to see them suffer as your people have suffered. I can make that happen.”
“No!” Viktor wrenched himself free of the vision. His altered limbs burned. He screamed.
~*~
Viktor couldn’t sleep. Every time he left the lab, he found himself right back again, trapped under the unnatural light of the Hexcore. It whispered to him, promises of power and knowledge and life unending. Sometimes he came up with excuses to be in the lab, something he had to work on, something he needed to finish before he ran out of time. Other times it was as if his altered limbs were drawn to it like a magnet, dragging him back against his will. His mind was foggy, dreams and reality blended together. He swore the tendrils were spreading across his body, slowly but surely. He was running out of reasons to defy it.
~*~
There were far too many Council meetings in Jayce’s opinion. War or peace, weapons or treaties, profit or lives, round and round in circles they went and nothing was ever decided— even if the solution seemed obvious to him. How could a government function like this? Mel should have known he didn’t have the mind for it, but now the city’s fate was his responsibility.
Jayce took a breath and opened the door to the lab, Hextech hammer in hand. He had made a promise. He intended to keep it. “Viktor?” he called, squinting in the odd purple light. Gods, how could he work in this darkness?
“I do not want to play these games,” Viktor said dully, hunched over his desk like a gargoyle. His complexion was ghostly pale in the unnatural light, his frame skeletal.
A chill went down Jayce’s spine. Something was very wrong. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”
Viktor scoffed. “One day you are Sky, another you are Jayce. I know neither are returning.” The words cut like a knife. He had waited too long.
Jayce rushed to his partner’s side. “Viktor, it’s me! I’m right here. I’m sorry. I know I should have come sooner, but… I’m here now.” He reached out to put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.
Viktor froze, then blinked up at him. “You’re… here.” His expression flickered from confusion to relief to panic. “You should go. It isn’t… isn’t safe.” He tried to shove Jayce’s arm off, but his strength was frighteningly little.
“I told you I’d destroy it. Is that still something you want?” Jayce asked, lowering his voice but making sure to meet Viktor’s gaze.
Viktor nodded, cautiously. As if afraid of his response.
Jayce flashed a reassuring smile. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Stay back.” He backed away and lined up his shot. If anything could destroy it, surely a blast from the hammer would do the trick. If not, they would find another way. He took a breath and pressed the trigger.
Viktor screamed, an anguished bloodcurdling sound, and suddenly lunged at him. The hammer was thrown off course as he fell. The blast hit the ceiling with a resounding crash.
Jayce landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Viktor clawed at him with mindless fury. There was nothing in Viktor’s eyes but an eerie reflection of the Hexcore’s glow. Rubble from the ceiling rained down on them both.
“Viktor! It’s me!” Jayce tried to pry him off, heartbeat hammering in his ears. “I don’t want to hurt you, Viktor. Can you hear me?”
A beat passed. Another. No recognition. Viktor’s cold hand reached for his throat. They’d both die here if he didn’t do anything. Jayce shoved harder, throwing him off and flinching at the thud when Viktor hit the floor.
Viktor scrambled away, panting, eyes wide but finally human. “That… was a terrible idea. Never do that again.” His shot a glare at the Hexcore, then turned back to Jayce. “We need to go. Now. Carry me.”
“What the hell was that?!” Jayce snapped, rubbing his throat.
“I will explain later.” Viktor grabbed his hands, positioning them in a way that would not harm him. “The crutch too. Do not let go. Whatever I do, whatever I say, do not put me down until we are safely away from here. Understand?”
A million questions flashed through his mind, but Viktor’s desperate terrified gaze silenced him. Jayce nodded and carefully picked him up, holding him close. Despite being noticeably thinner, he was strangely heavier as well. Jayce stopped just long enough to let Viktor grab the crutch, then started to run.
Viktor squirmed and thrashed in his grip, kicking and hitting at every opportunity. Jayce only held on tighter, praying that he wasn’t hurting him. Eventually, Viktor stopped fighting, going limp in his arms. Jayce sighed in relief.
Not sure where else to go, he brought Viktor home, setting him down on a guest bed. Jayce sat by his side, waiting for him to wake.
~*~
Viktor slowly drifted to consciousness. He was in a bed. A soft bed. With soft sheets. That couldn’t be right. Was this another dream? The Hexcore trying to seduce him with luxury? He laughed at the thought, then coughed, jerking to full wakefulness. Not a dream. The dreams were the one place he didn’t feel pain.
“Viktor! Thank gods you’re awake. I’m here.” Jayce put a hand on his back, offering a glass of water with his free hand.
Jayce. Jayce was here. The real Jayce, not an illusion-dream-puppet of the Hexcore. Viktor ignored the water, clinging to Jayce and burying his face in his chest. Jayce was real. This was real.
Jayce held him close. “It’s okay. We’re safe,” he murmured. Viktor focused on his voice, the rise and fall of his chest, the warm arms around him. Nothing like the Hexcore. The Hexcore could not even pretend to care.
“I’m sorry,” Viktor mumbled finally. “I’m sorry.”
Jayce pulled away enough to look at him, concern in his eyes. “Something happened back there, but we can figure that out later. When was the last time you ate?”
Viktor blinked. Time had lost meaning to him, other than the fact that he was running out. What day was it? “I… I don’t…” he trailed off, aware of the hunger gnawing at his stomach.
“We’ll get some breakfast, then we can talk, alright?”
Viktor couldn’t find a reason to argue with that.
The food helped. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a warm home-cooked meal. It was heavenly. Beyond what he deserved.
“You deserve the truth,” Viktor said, once there was no other excuse to wait. “Please do not interrupt. I know it will be difficult to hear.”
He took a breath and told Jayce everything. The way the Hexcore took his blood, Shimmer, being able to run for the first time in his life, Sky attempting to save him only to lose her life, the nightmares. How he felt stuck in the lab, unable to be away from the Hexcore for long. How the Hexcore had sent agonizing pain and taken over his altered limbs when Jayce tried to destroy it. He apologized, hoping Jayce would understand but knowing he was beyond forgiveness.
Jayce was silent for a moment longer, absorbing the information. “Gods, Viktor. That’s… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. It wasn’t your fault.” He was too kind. Too forgiving.
“Don’t.” Viktor held up his hand. “Don’t start. Do not try to excuse my actions. What I’ve done cannot be undone and I must live with it. My actions led to Sky’s death, and I nearly killed you. I cannot let that happen again. Heimerdinger was right; it could destroy entire civilizations and we must stop it before that happens.”
Jayce ran a hand through his hair. “How? What do we do next?”
Viktor hesitated for a moment, glancing out the window. “I need your help to get across the bridge.”
Jayce nodded, eager as always to be helpful. “Of course. Where are we going?”
“You are only going to the end of the bridge. I am returning to my… acquaintance from the Undercity. This madness is partially his fault, and if anyone can fix it, he can.” Or make it much worse. But Jayce didn’t need to know that part. He had enough to worry about. If Jayce knew the dangers that awaited, he’d never let him go. It was better this way.
“Alright. If you’re sure…” Jayce said. Viktor nodded.
As they walked, Viktor felt the unmistakeable tug of the Hexcore pulling him back. He only clung tighter to Jayce, gritting his teeth. Just a little further. There was nothing he needed in the lab, and every reason to avoid it. He didn’t want to go back, he needed to get to the Undercity.
The enforcers gave him a wary look, but Jayce’s presence was enough to let them through, as he had hoped. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the bridge.
“Well. I suppose this is it,” Viktor said, bracing himself on his crutch.
“I could still come with you—“
“No, Jayce. You stick out far too much. You think you are being stealthy, but everyone in the Undercity will only see an easy mark— or worse, a governmental figure they could use as leverage. It is better for me to continue on my own from here.”
Jayce rubbed the back of his neck. “That bad, huh?”
“You have many posters, Jayce. You are a symbol.” Viktor paused, then cracked a smile. “At least they are flattering. Even as a drawing you are undeniably attractive.”
“It was Mel’s idea,” Jayce protested, blushing slightly at the praise. “… but I get it. I won’t go any further, promise.”
“Good.” Viktor nodded. “I will send a message-tube when I am able. I am unsure when that will be, but do not set foot in the lab until I tell you to. The Hexcore will likely still be dangerous even if we manage to sever the connection. I will not return Topside until it is destroyed.”
“But you will return, right? We will see each other again.” Jayce was looking at him with those impossibly-large puppy eyes.
Viktor forced a smile. “Of course. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
“I mean it. I’m not losing you, Viktor. This can’t be goodbye forever.”
Viktor sighed. “I will do my best to not die in the meantime.” He hesitated, then added, “But if this is the last time… Thank you, for everything. Despite the illness, my time with you has been by far the best years of my life. I would not trade it for the world.”
Jayce nearly crushed him in a hug. “You saved my life. I wish I could do the same.”
Viktor held on, savoring his touch one last time. “You already have.”
For a few minutes, they simply stood there, neither wanting to let go. Viktor ultimately was the first to pull away. “It’s time. Hold off the war for as long as you can, that would complicate things.”
Jayce nodded. “I’ll try. Just come back to me.”
“As soon as it is safe to do so. Farewell, Jayce.” Viktor turned and limped off to the Undercity. He didn’t look back— if he did he might never leave.
The trek down to the cave was more difficult than he remembered. His altered leg threatened to drag him down at every step. The air that he used to breathe every day of his life now burned with every breath. The rocks were slick, a fall at the wrong step could be deadly.
Still, he continued. One step at a time, one breath at a time. Despite the pain.
Finally, finally he reached the mouth of the cave, coughing and leaning heavily on his crutch.
“I take it the experiments did not go as you wished?” Singed asked. At least he had the decency to wait for the coughing fit to subside.
“No. Your Shimmer made it worse. You are going to fix it.” Viktor glared at him with as much energy as he could muster.
“Is that so?” Singed tilted his head to the side. “Do you often find yourself in fits of rage after the experiment?”
Viktor opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, the doctor’s question taking him off guard. “Why do you ask?”
“The variant I gave you was meant to be without the…. more savage side effects. If that was not the case, I must find the miscalculation. Most unfortunate.” He turned to his notes. “I can mix another, perhaps less potent.”
More experiments. More test subjects. Was that all he was to the doctor now? It didn’t matter. Viktor shook his head. “No. I did not come for more Shimmer. I am done with the Hexcore. You are going to help me mitigate the results.”
“I warned you that you may not like the path ahead.”
“You said they would despise me. I do not care about that. Topsiders hated me since the moment I set foot in their gilded city. This is different.”
Singed made a noncommittal hum. “Perhaps. What exactly do you believe I can do to ‘fix it’?”
Viktor limped over to the blood-stained table, heaving himself onto it. “Remove the altered flesh. All of it. I know you can.”
“Show me. Tell me what happened.”
Viktor removed the glove and his pants, showing his altered limbs. He explained what happened, but kept only to the strict facts. He left out the nightmares, the crushing guilt. The doctor wouldn’t care about the emotional toll. It wasn’t worth wasting air on bringing it up.
“Fascinating.“ Singed took his altered hand, turning it over and inspecting it. “Are you certain you want it removed? This is truly extraordinary. It could be the breakthrough we need.”
“I am certain,” Viktor insisted. After a moment, he added, “You may keep the… parts… after if you wish. I don’t care.” He didn’t want to know what Singed would do with them, but destroying them completely would be difficult if not impossible.
“Very well. Is there anything else I should know?”
Viktor reached into his jacket pocket and handed over his journal. “I have designs for prosthetics, if that has any bearing on how you perform the surgery. Feel free to peruse the other notes if you wish.”
The doctor paged through the notes. “Impressive. Have you tested any of these designs?”
“Prototypes, nothing more. I did not have time to take them with me.”
“If all goes well, there will be time to test the designs later. Do you have any other requests?”
“I wish to keep my mind in tact and be able to continue my work, to help people. I do not care for appearance as long as I am functional.” His gaze drifted to Rio in her tank, his throat tightening. This process would not be pleasant. “If I must go into suspension… do not drag it out too long.”
“I will do my best. You will live.” Singed placed a hand on his shoulder, light and cold but the closest the doctor could get to comforting. “Are you ready?”
Viktor took a shaky breath and nodded. This was the only way. “Do what you must.”
The pinch of a needle in his arm was the last thing he felt before the world went dark. The dreams couldn’t reach him.
When he woke, it would be a second chance to make things right. It had to work.
