#Professor Heimerdinger

[lady-griffin]

I just noticed this now, but right before Heimerdinger and Viktor’s scene at the start of episode 6, the camera pans up and we several sewer tunnels.

There is some clear skull imagery happening here; for Victor’s impending death and him overall dealing with his mortality in not just this scene alone, but the rest of the episode and season as well.

I just never noticed this detail before, like at all, and thought it was so cool and amazing that I had to share it immediately.

Seriously, every time I think there’s nothing new that I can notice in this show, Arcane once more proves me completely wrong; and I absolutely love that about this amazing, god-tier level of a show.

#Viktor #Arcane Viktor #Heimerdinger #Professor Heimerdinger #arcane #Arcane Details #Viktor and Heimerdinger #Arcane Season 1 #Arcane When These Walls Come Tumbling Down #When These Walls Come Tumbling Down

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 22

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Piltover makes initial decisions in response to the Children of Zaun claiming responsibility for the airship crash. The Undercity suffers at their response - unwittingly sending more Trenchers into the Children's ranks. Silco and Katya continue to flirt. Kells commits a horrific act, for which he is promptly punished.

Special Note: Many, many thanks to @sand-sea-and-fable for being my bestie and beta for this chapter!

Chapter CW: Sexual assault. The text right before and after this part with be in bold and will be colored red so you may choose to skip if that is safest for you ❤️

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 6.1K

“We have a problem,” Grayson announced, striding into Bone’s office.

The Councilor looked up from his desk, pen pausing in the middle of the sentence he was writing.

“What is that?”

The Captain sighed and sat down heavily in the chair in front of his desk. She fidgeted her hat between her fingers, spinning its stiff brim to and fro.

“Someone has laid claim to that airship crash.”

Bone blinked. Then set down his pen. “Who?”

The airship crash and subsequent arrest of a teller at Clockwork Vault had thrown Piltover into a tizzy. Not much information had been made available to the public yet, but it had kept Grayson busy; unable to commit to the work she had agreed to do with the Undercity Councilor.

“Some group in the Undercity. They are calling themselves the Children of Zaun.”

Bone stared at the young woman across from him, his gut growing heavy and sinking to his feet. He felt cold sweat begin to accumulate on the back of his neck. He could feel his dreams for the Undercity slipping away. It would have been one thing if the airship crash had been perpetrated by one or two people; but a group admitting responsibility for it?

“I have not heard of them.”

“Neither have we,” Grayson admitted.

“Why did they attack the ship?”

“To get the money. They sent LeDaird a note saying that it was the start of Piltover’s ‘reparations’.”

“When was this note sent?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Tubed from a public booth in the Undercity to the station. LeDaird has a meeting with Heimerdinger in an hour about it. I am to meet him there.” Grayson paused before saying, “I wanted to give you a heads up.”

Bone nodded, fingers drumming nervously on the desk. Heimerdinger would call Council to a private assembly upon hearing this news. He knew what the Council would say. That the airship attack was an act of terrorism. That these ‘Children of Zaun’ were terrorists and needed to be dealt with swiftly.

Not necessarily justly.

Justice couldn’t exist in a vacuum of panic.

Bone would not be able to work towards his goals of Undercity equality and equity with Piltover concerned and smarting from underground retaliations.

His access to Grayson would diminish, too. Their fragile olive branch already bending under the conflicting weight of her duties and his goals.

“LeDaird doesn’t know you’re here right now?”

Grayson shook her head. She ran a wide hand through her black hair and repeated, “I wanted to give you a heads up. This group is demanding secession from Piltover. At the risk of being crass, Councilor Bone, shit is going to hit the fan.”

“Indeed,” he muttered, mind whirring frantically.

The scandal of a Piltovan teller trying to fleece Topside families would be old news by suppertime tomorrow. All anyone would be concerned with was this burgeoning terrorist group and their divisive demands. His seat on Council would be met with more scrutiny. His goals for the Undercity completely undone and unjustified.

“I am going to do what I can,” Grayson said, placing a hand on the desk, “to keep helping you. This doesn’t change that. To be clear.”

Bone swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

Council met for an emergency assembly later that day. When Bone limped into the chamber, Sheriff LeDaird, Captain Grayson, and Heimerdinger were already present. The two Enforcers stood with rigid spines in the center of the floor; Piltover’s founder sat in his seat looking uncharacteristically grave.

Bone took his seat as the rest of his peers strode in. Each of their faces were variations of the same theme: exasperated. As if being called to action was a major inconvenience.

“Councilors,” Heimerdinger greeted. His tone was serious as his bright blue eyes flicked to each face seated around him. “Thank you for meeting here on such short notice. This call is in regards to the airship crash that happened earlier in the week. Sheriff LeDaird has come into some alarming evidence.”

All the Councilors – save for Bone – mumbled surprised sentiments, looking to one another. The sheriff took a step forward, folding his hands behind his back.

“I have alerted Professor Heimerdinger that a group has claimed responsibility for the crash.” He paused as he withdrew a weathered envelope from his inner-breast pocket, holding it up. “This arrived to the Enforcer Headquarters yesterday afternoon.” He took out the scrap of paper housed within the envelope and read, “We are the Children of Zaun. Consider the coin the beginning of your reparations. We are the Children of Zaun. We are The Storm’s Fury. And we demand freedom.”

LeDaird’s deep voice echoed through the deadly quiet chamber. Bone felt a chill go down his spine and a flame light in his belly.

“Zaun?” Xiu sniffed.

“It is a reference to Oshra Va’Zaun. Or Kha’Zaun. The true name has been lost to time,” Bone said, quietly annoyed that the other council members did not understand the connection. “The port city from whence Piltover rose.”

“So, this letter came from the Undercity,” Krum said.

“From a public booth in the Lanes,” LeDaird confirmed. “Enforcers are currently investigating these booths, asking questions to see if anyone recalls someone suspicious or out of place using them.”

“Who are they? These Children of Zaun?” Bolbok ground through his gears.

“We are investigating that as well,” LeDaird promised. “They are not a gang or terrorist group we are familiar with. Likely, they are a new development. We are doing our best to get an idea of their numbers – “

“What about the money they stole?” Hoskel voiced. “The families that odious teller stole from are upset enough already. Now, their money is in the hands of a terrorist group? Reparations, indeed.”

Bone’s fingers clawed slightly on the table, waiting for the inevitable.

“Councilor Bone,” Heimerdinger finally said. His tone was kind, but prompting. “You are our eyes and ears into the Undercity. Have you heard any rumblings amongst your constituents?”

Bone closed his eyes, felt the drag and scrape of breath down his throat. His very being thrummed as years of tamped down distrust pulled at his bones. There had always, always been rumblings of secession in the Lanes. Fissurefolk grumbling and dreaming of a better life. But those moans and wishes fell by the wayside when mouths needed to be fed, and housing needed to be maintained. At the end of the day, they were too tired to rail and fight against their overlords.

Independence was too lofty and unrealistic a goal. Even Bone knew that. That was why he was on Council, why he had reached out to Captain Grayson; to try and bridge the gap. And what these people – these Children – were demanding, what they had done, would jeopardize that.

“I do not know them,” he promised.

“Are these the same individuals who attempted to rob that shipment for the Enforcer Headquarters a few weeks ago?” Councilor Thornenburg asked, stepping over Bone’s answer.

“At this point there is no evidence to suggest a connection,” LeDaird explained, “but we are looking at it as a possibility.”

“Councilors,” Heimerdinger interjected, his bright tone sharp and grabbing. “I called you here today because as the leaders of Piltover, we must decide how to move forward with the information we have. The safety of our citizens takes the utmost priority. We cannot tolerate anything that stagnates our great nation’s progress.”

Bone pursed his lips together. His eyes flicked over to Grayson, who exchanged his gaze with one of careful aloofness; but in the depths of her brown eyes, he saw a flash of concern, a muscle in her jaw flexed. Around him, his Councilor peers nodded and got to work.

Katya rifled through the shipment that had just been delivered to the clinic, carefully stocking the product while internally making note of which items would be stowed away in her coat later.

She felt . . . strange. A confluence of feelings had taken root within her over the past several days, and most of the time she couldn’t make heads or tails of them. The past two weeks had been very eventful – both broadly and intimately.

In the days following the Children’s letter, Council published a very scant bulletin about the airship crash and the Children’s involvement. She heard rebellion members and other Zaunites alike scoff and roll their eyes at Topside’s carefully crafted announcement. About how, suddenly, disdain and interest in the crooked Clockwork Vault teller was no longer anywhere to be found. The attention and fault fully shifted to the Undercity. As unsurprising as it was, the benefit of Topside’s compulsory prejudice resulted in the Children’s numbers growing again; now knowing that there was a cause to funnel that ire into, that there were likeminded citizens actively pushing for change, more and more Trenchers showed up. Sick and tired of being blamed and persecuted.

And persecuted they were.

Despite Council insisting that the actions they were taking were for the benefit of the entire Piltovan city-state, their solutions only negatively affected the Undercity. Registrations for Bridge passes was put on hold; those – like Katya – who already had Bridge passes were temporarily denied entry onto Piltover’s side of the river. Exemption was made for Viktor, Heimerdinger had seen to that. But Katya now passed him off to Ivy at the attendant’s hut on Piltover’s side of the Bridge, as oppose to meeting on campus.

The day those actions were put into effect, Viktor had limped toward the Bridge’s gate, Ivy at his side, with an expression that both cracked Katya’s heart and set it aflame in righteous indignation. He looked scared and confused. She had twisted the thread inside her coat sleeve tightly around her finger and bit the inside of her cheek.

I am doing this for us.

She felt more certain about that sentiment now. More solid. More sure. Her and the Children’s efforts would wipe away the concern from her brother’s face; from the faces of Lanes’ children across Zaun. It was an emotion they should not have to experience. Certainly not at the hands of their government.

As the attendant lifted the barricade, Ivy had ducked to protect her hair and Viktor limped toward his sister.

“Hello, Katya,” Ivy had said, her signature kind smile setting her face aglow. She unshouldered the bag on her back and held it out.

Katya took it without greeting in kind.

“Let’s go home, Viktor.”

At home, she explained what Council had done, why she couldn’t pick him up in Piltover anymore. She left out her involvement with the Children of Zaun; she still wasn’t ready for him to know. She didn’t want him to worry about her. Nor did she want him to have to carry that knowledge and navigate his way through Piltover every week. Not until he absolutely had to.

“Why did those people steal? Why is Topside closing the gates, though?” He had asked.

Katya looked at him intensely, every cell of her body vibrating with a sense of injustice. She pet a hand through his thick hair, hoping the touch would ground her. It didn’t. She felt more agitated.

“Those people – The Children of Zaun – are trying to right the wrongs Piltover has done to the Undercity,” she had told him. “Remember how you noticed your professor taught history differently than Papa did?” Viktor nodded. “Topside is in power. Wants to remain in power. So, they teach their lessons differently. So, they do not have to change. They punish us so they don’t have to change.”

Viktor’s eyebrows creased. “Then why do I go?”

“You know why – “

“I mean, besides the clean air – “

Katya had taken her brother’s face into her hands and said, “Because you deserve to be there, Viktor. You deserve the clean air and the opportunities the Academy will afford you. You do not need to give that up. These people – the Children – are working to make sure that others may have the same chances, too. We are not less because we are from this side of the river. That’s why they are doing what they are doing. That is why Piltover is doing what they are doing.” She sighed, and loosened her hold on his cheeks. “Do your best not to worry about this, Viktor. You will go to school. You will breathe clean air. And, hopefully, someday soon, you’ll walk across the Bridge home to a free nation.”

Viktor’s small bud of a mouth thinned, but he did not broach the subject again.

When Katya walked him to Piltover’s side of the Bridge the following Monday, Ivy had been waiting for them. As on Friday, Katya did not acknowledge her beyond handing off her brother’s bag.

She’d drawn Viktor in close, as she always did when they parted. But this time, she whispered in a voice that sent shivers down his spine, “You deserve to be here, Viktor.”

They parted, Katya dragging her hand through his hair and down his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he had replied, and, despite everything, concern shimmered in his eyes.

Katya’s lips pursed at the memory, and brushed her fingers along the neatly packed glass vials tucked securely in the box she was unloading. For the last supply order, her request for larger vials of medicine was approved. She had managed to convince the mine’s board that it was more economically feasible to order certain items in bulk – the high-strength decongestant among them. It was a maneuver that ended up being additionally helpful since supplies to Zaun were being bottle-necked by Piltover. Shipments on everything destined for the Lanes were delayed by thorough screenings, and, in a place that already had so little, Zaunites felt this transgression acutely. Businesses suffered, food on dinner tables became more meager.

The Children did their best to counteract this by greasing the wheels and lining the pockets of the few traders who dealt with Zaunite businesses directly. They were mostly morally grey types, whose scruples laid less with loyalty, and more with extra coin. Which the Children paid to get extra food and weapons into the city.

Katya had met Silco and Sevika one of the nights a trader from Bilgewater was due to deliver a few small packages of food, a case of liquor, and a roll of leather that held a few worn sabers. The meet up location was an inconvenient distance from anything, but that was the point. It was easier to do the hand off several klicks down Zaun’s shoreline, away from the docks that faced Piltover.

In the dark, only the glow of purple algae beneath their feet, Silco and Sevika had gathered the goods into their arms. Katya handed the trader – a bent and crooked old Yordle with leathered skin, no teeth, and ears with so many holes in them that they looked moth-bitten – the clutch of agreed upon coins and stowed the rolls of knives in her coat.

“Remember us,” Silco had said gravely, fixing the trader with intense eyes, “and we will remember you.”

The Yordle chuckled – a sound more akin to a rattling motor – and returned to his small boat, carefully moored against the rocky shoreline. He had not responded to Silco with words, but he nodded. Deftly, he navigated his vessel away from the shore.

They watched him go, before Katya had said, “Let’s get this back to The Drop.”

Silco nodded and led the way. Katya at his shoulder.

She had been concerned the night after she pleasured herself to thoughts of him, that things would be inexplicably awkward between them. As she arrived at work that following day, lead-heavy regret settled in her stomach. She was certain she ruined it – whatever it was.

Her fears were dashed later that day when Silco appeared in the clinic to tell her how sore he was, and to ask questions about the lesson that had blossomed in his head over night. Warm relief melted the despair in her gut. She looked up into his pink-tinged face delighted that he had sought her out. They talked until Will showed up. Like last time, he fixed Silco with a disapproving, questioning look that had the young man skittering from the clinic. Katya was close behind. They laughed together about how uptight her clinic co-worker was.

Katya plucked two of the larger glass vials from the lineup, and set them aside, intending on giving them to Enyd. The medic had suggested to her that she may want to up her daily doses of medicine through the cold season, to see if that brought her any additional relief. It meant she’d go through the decongestant faster, which is what prompted Katya to fight for the larger bottles.

Since the airship crash, Katya had shared supper with Silco and Enyd a few more times. The older woman showed her several, easy kitchen tricks and recipes that would be simple to replicate back in her own home. In exchange, Katya shared with Enyd her attempt to cook the tentacles with herbs a couple weeks prior.

Enyd chortled upon hearing that Katya had attempted to eat the wilted plants.

“That was good instinct,” Enyd had said, “to infuse the fat with the flavor of the herbs. But, as you experienced, once the herbs have imparted their flavor to the dish, they have little use.”

“Very brave of you to test it out on yourself instead of Viktor,” Silco had snickered from his seat at the table. “Big sister, indeed.”

Katya playfully flicked her napkin at him, and he laughed.

One evening, Enyd’s cough was particularly bad, and both Katya and Silco insisted that she not cook and exert herself further. Instead, the matriarch directed the pair from the kitchen table on how to make that night’s meal. Between Katya and Silco continually messing up and laughing, the process took much longer than usual. However, Katya found the end result to be even more delicious than normal.

Katya smiled to herself at the memory of that night, closing the lid of the crate and carrying it to the supply closet. She put away the vials of medicine in neat lines on the shelf, their arrangement reminding her of the neat rows Enforcers marched in.

An unsurprising result of the airship crash and the Children’s letter was increased Enforcer presence throughout the Lanes. It was inevitable, predictable. As such, Trenchers – whether they were among the Children or not – were prepared to deal with pushy questions and accusations. And knew to protect each other.

Something that was a surprise to the Children, as well as the Enforcers, was the development of someone graffitiing ‘Zs’ throughout the Undercity. After Council had released their statement, someone – perhaps the same person – painted FREE ZAUN across the face of an abandoned Promenade shop that faced Piltover. Council had it painted over, only for it to reappear a couple days later.

No one in the revolution admitted to the tagging, even amongst themselves. Tongue-in-cheek rumors about the spirit of Janna doing it whispered through the ranks. Some Children, bolstered by the secrecy of the original artist, joined in. Soon, it was difficult to walk anywhere in the Undercity without seeing nods to Zaun and their right to freedom. Small, artfully-minded ‘Zs’ were drawn in chalk on the sides of buildings. Bluebirds cut from paper hung on clotheslines and lampposts. ‘We are the storm’s fury’ etched into metal handrails.

The Undercity was embroiled in the cause, the notion of their freedom brightening their eyes and lightening their souls. A ticking clock ready to ring in a new era.

The next box was stuffed with soft bandages and gauze. She carefully thumbed through them, checking the invoice as she went. The speaker on the desk crackled to life, causing Katya to jump and curse. She cursed again, realizing she had lost her place.

“Foreman Baz to medical.”

Katya groaned, staggered to her feet, and over to the desk, pressing the speaker’s button.

“Go ahead, Baz. This is medical.”

“There’s been an accident in Fissure 27. Kid from Unit 88 got his leg caught between the track n’ a mine cart. We got the cart off ‘em, but he’s not calmin’ down ‘nough to stand. Can you come n’ give him something? Check ‘em over?”

Katya eyed the clock above the door. Her shift was due to end within the hour, but she did not want to leave this miner waiting for Will. That, and, if the boy was in Unit 88, that meant Unit 90 – Silco and Sevika’s Unit – would be nearby. It would be nice to see them, if only for a moment.

“Fissure 27? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Fissure 27 was in the northern section of the mine, the oldest part of it. The tunnels there were large, having been carved out multiple times over the mine’s life. They were some of the first tunnels that became fitted with giant turbines, great fans that had drilled deeper and deeper into the terra. Most of the rock here had long since been squeezed of its main resources, those turbines now sitting eerily still in great, deep shafts.

However, per Piltover’s insatiable appetite for progress and productivity, some of these ancient tunnels were retrofitted to become storage space and garages for mining equipment. Others were further exploited for their resources; miners there were given orders to chip and pulverize the already dead stone to create gravel.

Grave robbers desecrating a corpse.

Since the collapse of the western mine tunnels, the units that had been working that rock were moved here until the board either found something else for them to do, or until the collapsed tunnels were excavated and rebuilt.

Katya walked the north end main vein from which the fissures branched out, clinic-issued medical bag bouncing at her hip. The foreman she passed paid her no mind, most of the miners did as well – too focused, too tired, or too hollow to acknowledge her. A few miners did catch her eye though. She recognized them as members of the Children. She nodded at them, and they nodded back. A quick, curt, but meaningful recognition.

She strode past Fissure 26, a small child accidently bumping into her. They murmured an apology and kept their eyes to the ground. Katya’s voice caught in her throat, recognizing him as the boy with the jaw injury she’d treated some weeks back. He was too quick for her to get a decent look, but the flesh around his neck and lower cheek was beginning to discolor, the sweet smell of rot gently wafting off him.

Her heart cracked and ached as she watched him scurry back into the fissure. This one – and she was guessing the same for 27 – were some of the tunnels that had been converted into equipment repair and holding space. She craned her neck a bit, glancing at the heads, faces, and bodies. Finally, spied Sevika’s tall form near the back end of an old excavator. She was holding the engine hood open with one powerful arm while a slim frame she recognized as Silco’s was half way in the machine, head first.

Sensing eyes on her, Sevika glanced up, and cracked a wide smile at the sight of Katya. She jerked her chin in greeting, and then looked at her questioningly. Katya playfully rolled her eyes and held up the bag slung over her shoulder. Sevika’s eyebrows lifted and made an ‘oh’ shape with her dark lips, nodding her head in understanding.

Her silver eyes then fell onto Silco’s back, his head still stuck in the machine’s engine. She swatted his behind with her free hand. Silco yelped and jolted, the excavator clanging as he hit something inside. He ripped himself from his work and spun on Sevika, his face contorted with disbelief and anger.

Sevika winced as his headlamp blinded her. She gripped the light with her hand, blotting it out, and jerked her head toward the fissure’s entrance. He flicked his headlamp off and turned. The glower on his face melted into an expression that tugged at Katya’s heart. His eyes brightened, a pleasantly surprised lopsided grin pulling one half of his mouth up. Then, like Sevika, his brows pinched quizzically, and she jostled the medical bag again and pointed a finger to her left, indicating the next fissure over. She waved at the pair, and continued toward her destination.

As Katya entered Fissure 27, she was displeased to see that apparently Kells was a member of Unit 88. He seemed to be expecting her, as he put himself right in her path as she entered the wide, yawning mouth of the tunnel.

“Hey, Nurse.”

She frowned. “I was called about an accident.”

“Hey! Hey!”

Both Kells and Katya spun to see a tall, scarred man in dirty overalls and headlamp waving her over.

Foreman Baz.

Without another word, she shouldered past Kells and made for the foreman. He led her to a small, dark crack in the tunnel wall, an annex of sorts. Before entering, she noted one of those humongous, inoperable turbines nearby, nestled in the deep, dark mine shaft it had once created. Katya was not naïve, but nevertheless felt claustrophobic at the thought of the near-infinite plummet that awaited some careless miner off the edge of one of those mighty blades.

She shook the thought from her mind and the shiver from her body, and followed Baz into the small tunnel.

Katya assumed that back in these tunnels’ most lucrative days, miners had followed a vein of precious minerals here, only to have it quickly run out and abandoned. Now, it was used to store small carts and a few lengths of track. A small group of young teens were gathered around a sobbing and shaking peer who was propped against one of the walls.

They parted, eyes wide and worried as Katya and Baz approached. The young teen against the wall was shaking, skin sallow, tears and snot running down his face. Katya knelt beside him and unslung the bag from her shoulder. She murmured reassuring things to the frightened boy as she pulled out a small chem-torch and turned it on. Flicking the small, tight beam of light over the patient, she assessed his injuries, and was pleased to discover that they weren’t too bad. There was a large tear down the length of his left trouser leg, the skin beneath scraped and badly bruised. There was one bleeding gash down his shin, but it wasn’t so deep that muscle and bone peeked through. The boy was mostly in shock and scared.

Katya began her work, gently asking him what had happened, what his name was, how old he was, what he did in the mines, if he had any activities outside of work he enjoyed; all questions to ground, sooth, and reassure him.

Thankfully, the wound required no stitches – it would’ve been challenging in the low light of the space. Katya cleaned and packed the injury, gently wrapping his shin with gauze and gave him a few pills of antibiotics and a small tube of salve.

“He can get back to work?” Baz gruffed behind her.

Katya pursed her lips, hating the answer she had to give him.

“He can.”

The boy should’ve been allowed to go home and rest. The boy shouldn’t have needed to work in a dangerous mine in the first place. The best she could do was give him a regretful and sympathetic look; he returned it with one of hollow understanding, the tear tracks down his sooty cheeks finally drying.

Baz ordered two of his peers to help him up and carry him over to their work area. They did so, and once they staggered from the small crevasse, Baz thanked Katya and followed them out. She nodded her head, lips sealed tight in displeasure.

Once they were gone, she took a moment to let the feelings of injustice and rage wash their way through her body. They passed, as feelings do, and she began cleaning up her equipment.

Katya started at the sound of rock beneath boots and jumped when Kells suddenly dropped down beside her. He leered at her in the low light.

“Need help?”

He reached for the partially unrolled length of gauze, and she snatched it up, shoving it into the bag.

“I am fine.”

She sloppily threw the rest of her equipment back into the bag, not even sparing Kells a glance, before standing a making for the main fissure. But a mighty, painful yank on her ponytail stopped her, pulling a surprised yelp from her throat. Her legs tangled and the medical bag tumbled to the ground. Before Katya could respond or cry out, Kells deepened the grip he had on her hair to the roots of it, slamming her front against the rocky wall. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. Her mind spun and body went cold. She didn’t understand what was happening . . . and did at the same time.

Kells pressed his body against hers, pinning her in place. The hand gripping her hair pressed her face into the wall, while the other had snatched her left wrist and jerked it behind her back, her shoulder barking in protest.

“You’re an uppity bitch, you know that?” Kells hissed into her ear, spittle landing on her exposed cheek. “And I’m fucking sick of it.”

Katya choked on her voice. She willed a scream to tear from her throat, but none came. She lost access to her body, limbs freezing in terror. Kells pressed further against her, using all his weight to press her against the wall. She felt his hardness against her backside and gasped in distress. The hand that had held her wrist snaked around her front, and grabbed her sex. Her mind screamed for her body to do something, to fight back somehow.

Her bladder loosened and freed its contents all over Kells’ palm. He made a disgusted grunt and smashed her face into the rock further.

“You’re supposed to pee after, dumbass. Don’t you know that, nurse?”

Undeterred, his hand reached a little higher and pulled apart the buttons on Katya’s fly. She whimpered when he kicked her stance wider and began attempting to shuck her trousers down her legs.

Finally, she found her voice. It was painful to speak, the sound sharp and brittle against her tight throat.

“Please – “

“Don’t worry,” he cooed wickedly, grinding against her. “You’re gonna get it – “

Then Kells gasped, grunted and cried out in frustration as his weight was flung from Katya’s body. She sobbed in relief and slid down the wall, looking over her shoulder to see what had happened. Her heart leapt into her throat. Overwhelming gratitude and shame coursed through her body. Silco was standing between her and Kells. Why was he here? How had he known to come? He’d thrown her attacker against a broken down mine cart, and Kells was trying to gasp air back into his lungs.

Silco glanced over his shoulder at Katya and growled, “Are you okay?”

His eyes were blazing beneath the light of his headlamp. The fierceness of his face enthralled and scared her all at once. She wanted to cry. Wanted to rage. Wanted to melt away and disappear. Before Katya could say anything, Kells staggered to his feet and lunged at Silco.

Silco barked in surprised as he was bowled back, grunted as he hit the hard ground. Kells straddled him and landed a couple messy punches to his face. One hit landed on the headlamp, and it shattered the glass and snuffed out the light. Kells yelped in pain as glass shards embedded themselves in his knuckles, as the hot filaments of the bulb burned his skin.

It was enough of a distraction that he didn’t sense Katya springing up. She grabbed the medical bag and hit him in the head with it. Kells grunted and Silco rolled them over. Now on top, he laid a few sharp jabs to Kells’ head. After his opponent stopped grappling for his face, Silco hopped to his feet and stomped on Kells’ groin twice. The man on the ground screamed and reflexively pulled in on himself, rolling onto his side in the fetal position.

Silco would’ve liked to take things farther, but as he turned to Katya – saw her hunkered on the mine floor in a trembling heap – he knew he had to put his own personal rage aside. For the moment, he just had to be grateful that he had bowed to the will of his infatuated heart and sought her out. He had to be thankful that his need to say ‘hello’ while she was near, had allowed him to interrupt her from suffering an abuse akin to his mother’s.

His focus was on her. Her need mattered more right now than his own to kill the piece of garbage a few feet away.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out for her. “I got you.”

Breath coming out in hyperventilating huffs, she took his hand and stood. She hurriedly fastened her trouser buttons as Silco picked up the medical bag. He began guiding her out of the small crevasse, his hand a grounding, protective presence on the small of her back.

Just as they were about to re-enter the main fissure, the sound of gravel shifting under boots and a low growl were all the warning they received before Kells launched at them, this time armed with a short length of mine cart track in one hand. As he swung at them, Silco shoved Katya to one side. She tripped to the ground as the metal track collided into Silco’s face with a sickening crack. He wailed and stumbled back. The outcry alerted the rest of the unit in the Fissure, and nearly everyone looked up from their tasks.

Silco couldn’t feel the pain, only the numbing vibrations that were rattling his skull. He sensed wetness pouring down the lower half of his face, and he knew it was blood. He could taste the metal of it on his tongue. The blind rage he had reined in at the sight of Kells assaulting Kat became untethered, and he rushed at the other man, lifting his weapon back, preparing for another swing.

Silco snarled as he ducked under the track – heard it whistle over his head – and grabbed Kells by the neck, punching him in the jaw. Kells dropped his weapon in surprise, but recovered quickly, charging forward, grabbing at Silco’s back and kneeing him in the stomach. Silco grunted and doubled over. His arms dropped from Kells’ neck to wrap around his waist, and tackled forward. Both men lost their footing and rolled across the floor. And onto one of the turbine’s blades.

Blood rushed in Silco’s ears as he rolled on top of Kells, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him multiple times into the metal. He heard nothing but the rage in his head. Saw nothing but the man – the monster – beneath his hands. Silco was unaware that the rest of the miners were shouting and yelling, some egging the young men on, others calling for them to stop. Katya screamed for him, and pushed her way through the riotous crowd until she stepped onto the turbine.

Only she permeated the rageful haze of Silco’s mind. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and failed to see Kells reach for a rock that was sitting a couple feet away. He smashed it against Silco’s temple, causing him to choke in pain. The force of the blow dislodged Silco from his position on Kells, and was knocked to the side. Kells rolled over and scrabbled towards Silco, the rock still clutched in his hand.

Silco’s head throbbed, and he didn’t see Kells advancing on him. Kells’ free hand gripped at Silco’s throat and he raised the rock above his head.

Kat yelled and ran for the pair. She threw herself into Kells’ body before he could strike down. In her fear, in her anger, she failed to notice how the turbine’s blade narrowed as it approached the giant shaft of the mechanism. She failed to realize her own strength and power as she bowled her attacker over. And off the turbine blade.

Katya managed to catch herself before she followed Kells over the edge. Between her breaths and the pounding of her heart in her ears, she heard Kells’ body break and shatter as he hit the blades beneath them. Then there was one final, stomach-turning CRUNCH as his body reached the pit floor hundreds of feet below. Then there was silence.

Notes: Woof. That was . . . a lot. At least Kells got his. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts with a comment, and please reblog! Y'all are the best!

Coming Up Next: Katya patches Silco up. Enyd is very distaught when her son comes home with a battered face. She becomes even more upset when she hears why, and decides to pay Katya a visit.

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #grayson #professor heimerdinger #heimerdinger #viktor #young viktor #silco #young silco #sevika #young sevika #original characters #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat #sa tw

[highseme]

Arcane: S01 E04 Happy Progress Day!

#i always loved this scene #this lil detail #my gifs #arcane #jayce talis #jayce arcane #jayce #heimerdinger #professor heimerdinger #arcane league of legends #arcane gif

[mandareeboo]

You don't look a day over 150, Professor.

#Arcane #Arc02 #Professor Heimerdinger #Mandar Liveblogs

[scaredysap]

okay but are there fics that focus on the relationship between Viktor and the Professor?

#arcane #viktor arcane #professor heimerdinger

[coldgoldlazarus]

I Ask Respectively for

Aak from Arknights

Krika from Bionicle

Maria Calavera from RWBY

Heimerdinger from Arcane

Rarity from My little pony

Quite the group of character. All people who witnessed dire situations and came out of it defeated in some way.

Except rarity. She is just goals.

Oh dang, that's a lot. Lemme put this under a readmore:

Aak:

I don't really like Aak all that much, but I'll also freely admit that I don't really have a good reason for it? I just didn't care for his vibes from the outset, then people paying more attention to him over Nian during their shared banner soured me against him further, and then people shipping him with Warfarin over their genuinely hostile rivalry thing made me actively hate him for a while.

Nowadays, my opinion has eased off considerably; I find his gimmick of attacking other Operators a hilarious expression of his character even if it ensures I'd never, ever use him even if I had him, and the Lee's Detective Agency animated short made me reluctantly admit that he does play off of Waai Fu and Hung well, and so I can kinda enjoy him in that context. I don't know a lot of his deeper backstory, so idk how he connects to the "defeated by a dire situation" motif, but that does sound intriguing.

In short, I don't think he's ever going to be a character I come to like, per say, but he's at least grown on me enough for me to enjoy what he brings to the table, in small doses at least. Still not a fan of him and Warfarin, though.

Krika:

Krika is in kind of a weird spot for me. I really really enjoy his character, he's definitely up there among Bionicle's wide cast, and one of the genuinely compelling and well-written villains during a period where most of the others were stuck in Greg's cookie cutter mould of edgy gleeful mass murderers, and also he was the first set from the 08 waves I got. I really do love him.

All the same, he kinda fades into the background for me a lot of the time unless I'm actively reminded of his existence. This is probably partially because, as I've said many a time before, the Ignition Trilogy just isn't exactly my favorite era of Bionicle, but part of it may also be that he was there and gone so relatively quickly that I didn't really get to form as much of an attachment before the inherent tragedy of his character role and arc struck. The fact that his death happened only a year after Matoro's didn't help any, even if the contexts were radically different.

I wouldn't necessarily call him overrated, strictly, but it does feel sometimes like he's rated juuuust slightly above where he actually should be, if that makes any sense. Also, I'm a hypocrite who will woobiefy and excuse him plenty, but then get annoyed by others doing it, when part of what makes him interesting to me is that his long cricket leg pincer things hands are no cleaner than the other Makuta; he's just the only one that actually cares about how awful they've become.

Personally, I feel like if he'd been given earlier appearances and more set-up in the preceding years, (not that that could have really happened given the course of the planning and development cycles for the toys) or some form of retroactive further development somehow, (either through a ressurection or a flashback serial or something) then he would more fully earn all the praises he gets. As is, he's still a fantastic character, just lacking the kind of staying power he deserves.

Maria:

I don't have a whole lot to say about her. She's a great character, especially for such a late addition, and fills her mentor role really well, reflecting off of both Ruby and Qrow really well. (It would be cool to see more of her younger exploits, but at the same time it doesn't feel necessary, you know?) Plus, she's just amazingly fun to see in action, bantering with the kids, being the perfect matchup to give Neo a much-needed asskicking (I say this as a Neo stan) and also imparting the genuinely wise insight at just the right times. I understand why she got Put On The Bus early into Volume 8, but I still really miss her and want to see more of her.

Heimerdinger:

I really like this guy.

Setting his specific character aside for a moment, as a Yordle I think his inclusion as a main cast member for Arcane was pretty genius, honestly. It establishes early that Yordles just Are A Thing, and that even with the adorable chibi proportions and furriness, they are still just as valid as serious dramatic characters as anyone else; had they had Ziggs instead it would be harder to take them seriously, and had they just waited until later altogether, introducing them would feel too dissonant and out of the blue. Establishing right away that this cute guy is not only a leader on the Council but a revered founder of the city, makes telling any other stories involving yordles they may choose to pursue far easier from the outset, at least from an audience perception/suspension of disbelief standpoint.

And then as Heimerdinger specifically, I think he plays a really good role in the story, even if I do sometimes overlook him in favor of the more prominent cast members. His presence as the small-c conservative authority figure in Jayce and Viktor's lives; simultaneously too stuck in the past and ignorant of the present, deeply alien in his perception of time and human mortality, yet not completely unjustified in his fears of Hextech and magic, and being ultimately well-meaning despite his impotence; is as refreshingly nuanced a portrayal of his archetype as the others are of theirs.

I feel like he and Ekko did kinda get the short end of the stick in the finale in some ways, but all the same we didn't necessarily need something bigger and more dramatic when the important part was that they met at all to begin with, and we can see them starting to learn from one another, while any more specific developments are ultimately best saved for season 2.

Fun fact, I initially mistook him for another Yordle character from the game, called Corki, and spent a while during my first watching of Arcane wondering when he'd get his biplane. Turns out that's not really a thing, but all the same, I have to wonder what will lead to him going all-out with the turrets and bombs after the way his character's been developed thus far.

Rarity:

I love her. Favorite of the Mane 6 (even if Twilight and Applejack are close behind) and just, an absolute icon. I support women's rights, and also women's wrongs, etc; even at her most ridiculous, I would cheer her on. Tabitha St. Germain's skill for whole-heartedly chewing the scenery is like, half the reason she holds up so well in my mind, but even without that, she just lives at a kind of extra I can only aspire towards.

She's also rather personal for me, since her becoming my favorite not only coincided with, but both fueled and reflected my coming to better understand and accept parts of myself. Even aside from that, her struggles as an artist on the show were extremely relatable to me as a writer, (and as it later turned out, also me as someone with adhd, lol.) and sometimes I still invoke her as a Muse when I'm struggling. I own a plushie of her. I miss her, Tails, I really do.

And I'm kinda salty she did't get to marry Applejack in the series finale, losing out to Rainbow Dash??? Just another reason to be glad I stopped watching after Season 6.

But dang do I really miss her, and one of these days I want to go back.

#not a reblog #asks #arknights #bionicle #bonkle #bonkles #krika #makuta krika #rwby #maria calavera #arcane #league of legends #professor heimerdinger #cecil heimerdinger #mlp #mlp fim #mlp g4 #rarity #mlp rarity

[scalefeathers]

My current painting was supposed to be a fluffy silly thing that came out of a completely random thought, and now I’ve spent like 20+ hours on it and it’s not even close to done

On the plus side I’m learning a lot. Like how Heimerdinger’s face works, for one!

#so fluff!! #arcane #arcane league of legends #professor heimerdinger #my art #wip #fan art

[burntpizzacrusts]

here's a heimerdinger impression

I got a silco one hol up

#arcane #arcane heimerdinger #heimerdinger arcane #professor heimerdinger #arcane netflix

[writerblue275]

Jayce finding out about your relationship with Viktor.

Inspiration: Part of my pet name headcanon (HERE) for Viktor! I just had to. The thought of this cute little interaction from the pet name “my most esteemed colleague” was just too good.

Character: Arcane!Viktor

Genre: Headcanon

Category: FLUFF (Ft. Jayce being a bit of a silly goose. 😂.)

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!

TW: Small mention of alcohol. Swearing (because I swear lmao.)

Important context: Based on what I wrote in the pet name headcanon, I’m writing this with the idea of the reader being a professor at the academy (any subject). Also timeline-wise: this is before the end of the timeskip. Obviously HexTech exists, but Jayce isn’t a councilman yet or anything.

You and Viktor have only been dating maybe a couple months at this point. Your relationship is extremely new.

Not many people in your lives know. Not because you both aren’t happy or excited about this new relationship. It’s quite the opposite, in fact.

You two have never been so happy, but both of you are just fairly private people. Neither of you feel the need to be extremely obvious about your relationship in public. You’re both happy to save affection for those quiet moments alone together.

Someone who surprisingly does know? Heimerdinger. He knows because he’s the one who introduced you to Viktor at the academy holiday party last year. It was only maybe a couple months after you joined the faculty.

He immediately noticed you and Viktor both trying to discreetly check each other out during academy meetings.

“Discreetly” lmao you two were halfway to making heart eyes at each other already, let’s be so fucking for real. But he thought about it and realized you two would actually be really good for each other.

“Viktor, my boy, I’d like to introduce you to one of our newer colleagues here at the academy, Professor (Y/L/N). Professor (Y/L/N) teaches [enter subject] and is already responsible for some incredible projects. Professor, I’m pleased to introduce my former assistant, Viktor. He’s now working in our labs with Mr. Jayce Talis on HexTech.”

You couldn’t help but smile shyly at the tall young man who seems only a bit older than you are. He’s really quite handsome. And his EYES. You were pretty sure you could get lost in those amber eyes forever.

You realized you’d been quietly watching for a moment instead of responding, causing you to blush and stammer out a response.

“V-Very lovely to meet you, Viktor. I’ve asked Professor Heimerdinger to refer to me as (Y/N). Since he still won’t, I hope you will? I find Professor (Y/L/N) too formal for me, at least among colleagues.”

Viktor gave you a smile that made your heart flip. “(Y/N) does seem a lot more fitting, I agree. Happy to call you whatever you’d prefer (SMOOTH VIKTOR 😉). Now, while we were talking, I see they’ve set out the champagne. Would you like me to bring you a glass?”

“I’d love that, thank you! Once you return, I’d love to hear more about the intricacies of HexTech. Your work with Mr. Talis is fascinating and I’d love to understand it better, especially if I can hear from an expert.”

“Happy to talk about it, as long as I can hear more about [subject you teach] and your projects. I admit it’s not a topic I’m extremely familiar with.”

You smiled. “I’d love to tell you about my work, though I can’t promise it’ll be as attention holding as yours.”

Heimerdinger stepped in here, “You sell yourself short, Professor. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversations about your projects. Now you two go enjoy yourselves. I’m going to go make sure people aren’t causing any trouble.”

The yordle had been alive long enough to know when two people have excellent chemistry. He noticed the intense sparks between both of you IMMEDIATELY and he figured it wouldn’t be long before the two of you were together. (Surprise surprise he was correct.)

You’d never had so much fun at a work function before that night.

You and Viktor ended up talking together the rest of the party and he walked you home. Turns out the two of you live fairly close to each other.

You and him quickly became friends, and it only took a couple months for him to ask you on a coffee date, which you happily agreed to.

And once again you and him ended up talking together for hours. It was the most enjoyable date you’d ever had. You’d never felt so naturally comfortable with someone before.

And Viktor wasn’t even upset about being away from work for so long (though he did have to create some random excuse to appease Jayce’s curiosity).

Soon one date turned into more, and before too long, the two of you were officially in a relationship.

This brings us back to the present.

Viktor always gets to his lab so much earlier than you arrive at the academy.

To the point you sometimes wonder if he’s slept there. (The answer is sometimes yes.)

But anyway, one Wednesday night when Viktor decides he isn’t going to sleep at the lab, he comes over to your apartment for dinner. And while you two are chatting, he can’t help but complain a bit about the coffee machine in the lab not working.

And while of course you are being a supportive partner and listening to him, it is kind of hilarious, but also concerning, to realize how much this man depends on caffeine to get through his day.

Like you knew he drank coffee. You were not aware how much coffee he consumed since he mostly consumed it in the lab.

As the two of you sit together on the couch, chatting while Viktor goes over notes and you grade assignments, you can’t help but muse out loud a little bit after another round of tired grumbling from him.

“Tomorrow is my light class day. I could bring you coffee and breakfast? Since I know you’re already at the academy before the local cafes open.”

He perks up at the thought.

“I don’t need the breakfast, just the coffee, my dear.”

That earns him a mock stern stare from you.

“Ah ah ah, I’m going to make sure you actually eat breakfast, damnit. Even better, I’ll eat my breakfast with you. I rarely get to see you in the mornings, so it will be nice.”

He can’t help but smile. It would be nice to see you in the morning, especially when he’s tired. You always brighten his day whenever he sees you.

You’ve been visiting him and Jayce in their lab occasionally since you and Viktor became friends, but due to both of your recent schedules, it’s been a while, like since before the two of you made things official.

“That sounds nice, yes. When should I expect you?” His voice is happy as he laces his fingers with your hand that isn’t holding a pen.

You can’t help but blush happily at the little gesture. Viktor becoming more and more affectionate with you in private has been such a lovely surprise.

“I usually get to the academy around 9 on Thursdays. Does 9:15 work for you?”

He nods. “You know my order, yes?”

“Of course, Vitya. But, I also want to go ahead and at least grab coffee and pastries for Jayce and Sky. Do you know their coffee orders?”

After noting down his lab mates’ orders, you happily go back to grading papers, now enjoying companionable silence with Viktor.

Once he decides to get home for the evening, you send him off with a gentle peck and a “I’ll see you tomorrow with breakfast, love.”

He’s blushing so hard on the way home omg. You made him so happy calling him love.

And so the next day, you walk into work with one of those drink carriers, a big bag with pastries, and a smaller bag with your and Viktor’s omelets.

After dropping off the non-essentials in your office, you make your way over to the lab section of the academy.

You knock on their lab’s main door before opening it, just to give them a little heads up someone is coming in.

As you walk in, you’re greeted with a happy, but tired, “(Y/N)!” from Jayce. You and him have become friends too since you became close with Viktor.

“Good morning, Jayce! I’ve brought the lab some treats since I heard the coffee machine is currently out of commission.”

“Did Viktor tell you? Oh my god, you’re my fucking hero!”

Speaking of Viktor, he’s nose deep in textbooks at his desk, but the second Jayce says your name, he looks up and smiles at you, getting up and making his way over to you.”

“Ah! There’s my most esteemed colleague! Come to save the day.”

You can’t help but giggle at the silly little name.

But out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce looking a confused and maybe even just a little bit hurt that Viktor reffered to you, someone he’s only known like six months, as his most esteemed colleague and not him, the man he literally founded HexTech with.

Not that Jayce doesn’t respect you. He’s thinks you’re incredibly impressive, but after all they’ve been through, damn Viktor that hurts a little.

Realizing that you have to be the one to smooth over Jayce’s misunderstanding somehow, you meet Viktor in the middle of the room, smiling as he takes the coffees.

As soon as he takes the coffees and the smaller bag with just breakfast for you two, you lean up and gently peck his cheek and offer him a “Good morning, my most esteemed colleague. I hope you haven’t been caffeine deprived for too long, Viktor.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed by your generous gift and presence, my dear.”

Now out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce’s eyebrows immediately go up in surprise, and he definitely doesn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looks super excited for both of you, sporting the largest grin.

He even calls out a, “Ah Viktor, they really are your most esteemed colleague, I see.”

You smile at Jayce as you go over to give him the pastry box while Viktor gets a little pink on his cheeks.

“Those are for everyone, Jayce, so I better hear that Sky got some too. Anyway, I suppose I am. He is mine as well! Careful of teasing though. I’ve given Viktor all the coffees to pass out, so he might decide to keep yours for himself.”

Viktor smirks at you as Jayce lets out a tired whine.

“Ah, I like the way you think, my love!”

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ahhh this was so fun to write. As soon as I put “my most esteemed colleague” as a “slightly silly but still plausible and cute” answer on the list of Viktor’s pet names for his partner, this idea immediately came to mind and I just had to write it. Having been in university, and then grad school, I’ve been colleagues with some pretty cool people. I also loved including the little first meeting and matchmaker Heimerdinger for this Professor!Reader AU! Shoutout again to my friend from college who is my beta reader for Arcane things because she also loves Viktor basically as much as I do (lmao I love my friends)!

#arcane #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor headcanons #Viktor fluff #viktor arcane #arcane headcanon #reader insert #arcane fluff #jayce arcane #silly goose Jayce

[somedaylazysomeday]

Noisy - Part Three

Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

The knock on your door was a surprise. 

Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.

Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours. 

But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week. 

That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.

He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep. 

Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door. 

Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?” 

He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.” 

You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?” 

Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-” 

A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!” 

He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.” 

You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.” 

Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”

“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.” 

Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.” 

A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.” 

He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.” 

“That will take some getting used to,” you teased. 

“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”

You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.” 

“Never,” he denied instantly. 

That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet. 

“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly. 

“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”

“Can we sleep together?”

The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.” 

“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment. 

“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.” 

Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective. 

The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading. 

The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there. 

Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around. 

You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting. 

Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?” 

“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.” 

Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.” 

He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged. 

You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”

“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries. 

“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”

Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.” 

“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect. 

“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?” 

The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.” 

“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”

That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful. 

Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”

Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?” 

You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.” 

“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted. 

“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased. 

The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you." 

You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.” 

Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.” 

The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours. 

The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them. 

Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting. 

“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?” 

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away. 

“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?” 

“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”

He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest. 

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire. 

Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”

“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head. 

“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”

Viktor’s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…

Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.

The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you. 

Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.” 

When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind. 

But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin. 

You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”

Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.” 

It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”

“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration. 

Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…

This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches. 

“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.” 

Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?” 

He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”

“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”

“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.” 

“Oh, good.” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”

“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.” 

“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”

“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”

With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise. 

For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point. 

“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested. 

A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”

“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”

“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”

“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?” 

“Only that you’re not already inside of me.” 

The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest. 

So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations. 

Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak. 

When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade. 

When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”

He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”

Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles. 

Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away. 

“Viktor-”

He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”

He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?” 

“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.” 

Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was. 

Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper. 

When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.

For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away. 

And his. 

Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.

“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.” 

It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?” 

“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.” 

An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.” 

“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.” 

“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped. 

Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…

“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”

You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself. 

He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal. 

The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you. 

You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face. 

You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him. 

His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.” 

You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm. 

“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands. 

You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”

“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…

His eyes widened. “Are you-?”

Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.

Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled. 

When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse. 

“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable. 

“It was pretty good,” you agreed. 

A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?” 

“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice. 

You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?” 

Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.” 

You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.

---

Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #arcane #arcane 2021 #arcane netflix #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #fem!reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, idiots in love (?) dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation, angry sex, unprotected sex,

Cw: uhhhh smut

Words: 2.5k

[A/N: russian very kindly corrected by soln, ly<3, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao

Previous Next

Chapter 6: Big-headed? (NSFW)

The corridor leading to Heimerdinger's office was markedly narrower and longer than the others at The Academy, as though he was covertly attempting to thwart visitors. It didn’t stop you, however, and as you found out when you got there, it hadn’t stopped Viktor either. It made sense that, at one point in his life, long before you even met each other, these halls must have been a habitual destination. His close-knit relationship with the professor also showed itself confidently in the volume of his voice, a line that, despite your frustration with the situation, you’d never dare to cross.

You had every intention of staying put and waiting for him to come out, but the half-open door compromised your presence, and given that you were almost certainly there to make a fuss about the same issue, you decided to get it done and over with; after all, perchance Viktor's presence there could give your argument a compelling edge.

"Well, I’m glad you were able to join us at last, dear. I trust you are feeling better." Heimerdinger started.

“I’m okay; yes, thank you for the concern, professor. I should say I have a surmise that I am here for the same reason as him."

“Yes, I was trying to argue that our work styles do not meld well, and making us work together for any period of time greater than 5 minutes could be catastrophic; would you confirm as much?”

“Absolutely, I can do the work all on my own if that’s necessary; just don't make me work with him.”

“Interestingly enough, he has offered to do the same. Although I do commend both of you for your altruism, I must insist. This is what the Academy has decided.”

“Professor, if I may—"

“Enough delays, my boy; the decision is final. If I were you, I would get to it immediately; you have only a couple of hours to work.” You were swiftly rushed out the door by him, swept away by tiny, impatient footsteps and a heavy wooden door closing behind you.

Another door closed right on your faces when the sweet librarian denied you access on the pretense that your arguing had inconvenienced a whole two people the past couple of weeks, and you were now banned from using the premises at the same time. You had to compromise and go in by yourself to get the books you needed and then go all the way to the half-empty and uncomfortably cold cafeteria tables, where you worked tirelessly until you were yet again kicked out once the place closed. 

-------------------------

A couple infectious yawns and rubbed eyes later, you leaned back on the stiff plastic chair and stretched your back.

“What time is it?”

“Past 9.” Viktor answered after lazily turning around to try to make out what the clock read. You groaned loudly.

“We’ll need to move again—my dorm or yours?"

“Mine is probably cleaner.”

“Are you implying I’m messy?”

“No, I am affirming as much.”

“Rude.” You were offended, though only as a habit, because he was not entirely wrong.

“Oh no, have I offended you? Someone put me out of my misery!” He dramatized.

“I’d be first in line.” You said already standing up and walking in the direction of his dormitory.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Not everything needs to be done your way, you know?"

In the wake of the cafeteria work stretch, you had found yourselves completely spent and depleted. With most of the work done and text written, you had taken some minutes to stretch and rest your eyes. Viktor had informed you as soon as you got there that it was imperative that you were as silent as possible, given the next-door neighbor's propensity to complain about noise.

You did your best to keep it down, of course, and granted, you had been doing a particularly good job. That is, until Viktor decided to wonder who between the two of you would be the one actually giving the speech with the material you had prepared. Although you did your best to ask him politely at first, his immediate negative response caused you to get defensive.

“I wrote most of the text; why can’t you just do me a favor once?

“It’s not a favor if you have to throw me under a train for it! You know I hate speaking in public, and genuinely, I’m dog-tired of you being so incorrigibly selfish.”

“I’m not selfish, how am I selfish?” You said almost forgetting you had to keep the volume down.

“You never think about any consequences, ever. You can go around saying you are a free spirit and spontaneous and fun as much as you like, but if truth be told, you are nothing but cataclysmic chaos!”

“I don’t make mistakes on purpose, Viktor; it happens; you just have zero empathy because you insist on making everyone believe you are the Academy’s perfect golden boy! You never make mistakes, and you never do anything wrong, right?. But I know all you really do is push people away because everyone is afraid of disappointing you! I don't know. If you were a little less hostile, maybe you’d have some friends."

“You mean friends like you? I’d rather staple my ears together than be friends with a jumbled  mess. He said, standing up from the chair, his nose flaring up as he inhaled a sharp breath and held his cane forcefully. “You are so excruciatingly intolerable, overwhelming, big-headed—”

“Big-headed?"

“That is what you take offense to?”

You couldn’t say anything beyond a dismissive shrug, and you knew your disregard for his opinion was what would sting the most anyway.

The silence was loud; it could be felt in the air between you, the irate flare of irritation in his gritted teeth, his ears colored in that familiar tone of blush, and his eyebrows uncomfortably knit together as he whisper-screamed at you. He took a couple steps forward, leaving you at no farther than a palm's distance. The sudden closeness somehow did not bother you; you could hear both of your breaths, heavy and panting from the strain of containing your screams, and you could tell by the heat you felt all over your head and stomach that your cheeks probably mirrored the flush on Viktor’s face.

In hindsight, you never really understood why you didn’t talk back to him after that last comment. You had so many things in mind you could have said, but an unknown force pulled your attention away from his amber eyes glowing with rage to his lips instead, which were a bloody cherry red from biting on them too much. You couldn’t look away, and Viktor quickly noticed.

Then his shoulders visibly lost tension.

"Ah…prydoruk,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and you wished you understood because it somehow felt like another insult. Perplexity became fright when the loud clang of his cane falling directed your eyes to the floor, but in an instant, both of his hands were holding your face firmly, and one of them slithered in between the locks of your hair.

You hated how fast your guard fell. His fingers, icy yet delicate, caressing the lines of your jaw, were enough to disarm you completely. You mouthed multiple offenses at him under your breath as you searched for his lips. You were agonizingly in need of each other’s taste. Your hands had a strong grip on his shirt, tugging at it unintentionally as your body, which desperately wanted that idiot, tried to gripe with your rationality. The war in Viktor’s mind was a similar one, but just as much as yours, his body was unable to pull back.

Eventually you needed to catch your breath from the kiss, beyond hungry, and when you pulled back just slightly, you looked at each other like two deer in headlights, frozen in place by a blend of contradicting emotions that prevented you from moving and still holding each other closely. Viktor moved first, and when he kissed you again, you could feel his hands move almost on their own, going against his orders to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. He felt his lungs grow hungry for air as his tongue buried itself deep inside your throat.

“Stop pulling," he tried to whisper in between kisses. You shushed him, bringing a finger up to his lips, and started leaving a trail of kisses along his jawbone. “If you tear my shirt, I—” He tried once again, but your lips got to his neck at the same time, and his sentence changed into a muffled groan.

“I won’t. Just shut up; don’t make me think too much about this; just sh—”

“So crass,” he said as he walked backwards to the bed, pulling you along with him. “You’re so unpleasant."

“You have history that says otherwise, asshat."

You already had a leg on the bed, fully intending to push him on it to straddle his lap, but he moved faster than you could think and shifted to hover above you. He crawled up slowly without ever stopping the deep kiss you were sharing and used one of his knees to push your legs apart, positioning himself between them. You tried not to react, but the feeling of his erection against you prompted a slight chuckle to come out of your throat. 

“If this is how you get when I’m unpleasant, I can’t imagine what could happen if I were nice to you.” you smirked. He sank his teeth against your skin in response, leaving a small bite mark on your collarbone before he whispered.

“You are not funny, Zaychik."

“You’re just humorless." You said this as you pulled his shirt over his head. This must have been the open invitation he was waiting for to introduce a hand under your dress, completely bunching it up to gain precious access to your bare chest.

Although the energy of the room had shifted noticeably, the pooling heat in between you never replaced the ravenous disposition. You still felt the frustration in him as he bit into you multiple times, leaving a wake of purple and red bruises you would have to explain the next day. You didn’t know if his motivations were guided by a fit of lust or if it was a way to punish you for all of the irritation you had caused him throughout the years of knowing each other; either way, it felt good, and you did not care to keep pondering.

His hand trickled down to your underwear in excruciatingly slow designs, one of his eyebrows raising in a self-congratulatory expression when he felt the dampness of the fabric.

“Pat yourself in the back; why don't you?” You said, rolling your eyes. He did not answer, and, to your astonishment, he did not take your underwear off. He took his hand back up, bringing the fingers wet with arousal into his mouth, pulled down the elastic of his sweatpants and underwear to reveal a cock you wished you hadn’t gasped at, and pulled your underwear to the side to position himself at your entrance, all without ever breaking eye contact.

Even though he was panting abnormally loud and you could tell he would probably soon burst into a cloud of smoke, he still nodded slightly at you, asking for confirmation, and when you nodded back, he impatiently tilted his hips as far as the position allowed it and his leg could withstand, plunging into you with hungry zeal. He didn’t start slow; he was incisive and deep with every thrust, making sure he was completely inside you with every move. Calculated bastard

You used both hands around his back to hold yourself steady, your not exactly manicured nails digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder blades as you did your best to not make any noises too loud. Down on the bed under him, you pondered the dim light in the room and the curious designs of the roof. They might as well have been figments of your imagination, swirls of light and haziness as your eyes filled with tears.

You confused the erratic rhythm of his hips for what you thought at first was the arrival of his unraveling and immediately realized was simply his leg tiring out, and you gathered enough momentum to push him off of you, his back now on the bed, and you were ready to ride him. Long overdue, you thought, you couldn’t let him get his way with you without having a mirriad of his whimpers to your name. Your pace wasn’t slow either; you drove him into you with the roll of your hips, making sure you could feel him in the right spots.

The look of enamoured trance on his face as you bounced on his lap was far from the vexed expression you were expecting, and the suppressed groans of pleasure touched something in you that made you suddenly bashful. You leaned over to nuzzle your face against the crook of his neck and pressed your lips against his when his grin was getting too wide for comfort. You devoured each other again for what felt like too little time before you could feel the overwhelming heat in your core preparing you for your climax.

You tried to tell Viktor you were about to come, but something in your face must have made that obvious, because he brought you close again by the back of your neck, your mouths nearly touching each other as he spoke.

“Say my name,” he murmured into your mouth.

“Yeah, right”

The hand on your neck slithered its way up to your hair, which he tugged at firmly.

“Say it; I know you’re close.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, neither of you being able to contain a half-pleasure, half irritation, out-of-breath groan.

It didn’t take much longer before you felt the brief pain and sweet spasm that followed it, and Viktor revealed the feeling of your walls contracting around his cock. You took a second to compose yourself with your forehead pressed against his, and then gave him a devilish grin as you slid down to his lap. His eyes opened wide when you pressed the heat of his erection flat on your tongue, taking it in as far as you could manage.

His head shot back and his face contorted in pleasure, the hand that hadn’t left your hair oscillating between pulling at it harshly and gently caressing your head. You tasted him, salty, in your throat soon enough, and sat up after swallowing every drop of it. Viktor drew you back to him, and you laid there next to each other, avoiding eye contact, even though you were too high from your orgasms to feel any regret yet.

‘Yet’ came soon enough, though.

#viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic

[strrwbrrryjam]

"jayce will understand," he says. in hearing that people will despise him if he were to take shimmer - jayce is the first person to come to mind, almost as if he's the only person viktor is concerned about, the only one that matters, not sky, not heimerdinger, not the council or the people of both piltover and zaun, but jayce.

it speaks volumes about how highly viktor views jayce, maybe even seeing him as the only person equal to him in intellect, there's not even a passing thought to heimerdinger, his professor who he has known longer than jayce, who is, most likely, the reason why viktor is even in piltover at all.

it doesn't matter who disapproves of viktor and his actions, as long jayce understands, that's all that matters.

which just adds so much to that scene on that bridge, where viktor is confronted with the fact that jayce doesn't understand and likely never will, i mean, not only is it because jayce is being incredibly elitist viewing all people from zaun as "dangerous," which includes viktor, as viktor points out to him, but also if jayce doesn't approve of him going to the undercity, would jayce approve of viktor using shimmer to cure him - something that is so intertwined with zaun, something "dangerous."

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor #jayce talis arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayvik #jayvik #strawberry speaks

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Jayce Goes Sleuthing - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

In the wake of Vi's departure, and Viktor's defection, Jayce's life falls apart.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

"Consider carefully. The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit."

Snippet:

Caitlyn—

I got your message this morning. I'm sorry it's taken so long to write. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Not sure where to begin, so I guess I'll start with the most important thing:

I've resigned from the Council.

As of last week, I'm no longer a Councilor. Just a regular citizen. I know the news isn't official yet. There will be a special announcement later this week. It's pretty short-notice. I'm sure the media will have a field day.

Your Mother knows; I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Then again, the Council's been busy scrambling to find a replacement for Professor Heimerdinger. They've been hogtied in a bunch of other issues since Zaun's independence, too. There's been nothing but emergency sessions with the Zaunite Cabinet. So it's possible she didn't get a chance.

The motion for me to step down was unanimous. It's the right choice, and I'm at peace with it.

I'm sorry to hear about yours and Violet's split. It sounds like the two of you had a good thing going. She and I didn't really see eye to eye. But you seemed to care for her a lot. I had no idea there was a Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative happening—or that she'd been reassigned to Zaun. I saw no preliminary memos on the matter. If I had, maybe I could've done something to prevent it.

Then again, I've been so distracted lately. It wouldn't have surprised me if a hundred things slipped under my radar.

I understand you're concerned for her safety.  Near as my old contacts in the Council can tell me, her transfer has been approved. They've already conducted the ceremonial swearing-in, and the inaugural Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative has officially begun. They've been granted interim residency until the next rotation, six months from now.

There's not much that can be done to stop it. At least, not in the legal sense. My authority to intervene has run its course. And if the Council's being tightlipped, then Silco's people are pathologically silent.  The details of Violet's reassignment—where she'll stay, her duties, her work schedule—is all being kept private.  

I'm sorry, Cait. You're the last person who deserves this kind of heartbreak.

You've asked me to confront Mel. To convince her to stop Vi's transfer, or pull the plug on the whole project.

Sadly, I can't do either of those things.

Mel and I are no longer together. It was a mutual decision. She's no longer my mentor, and I'm no longer her protégé. She's made her position on forging diplomatic ties with Zaun's First Chancellor clear. I've made equally clear my distaste on trying to spin blood money into gold. We're both determined to follow through, and I don't see a way of changing that.

Guess it's heartbreaks all around, huh?

Maybe it's necessary. Maybe we're supposed to hurt so we can grow. I think I've gotten a little too comfortable in my cushy Council chair. It's high time I got back to the grind. I wanted to build a better world. That means I need to put the work in at HexCorp to make it happen.

We'll get through this, Cait. You and me. Let's meet up once things have calmed down. I miss our talks. I need some sane company after weeks of listening to politicians bicker.

If there's anything I can do, please let me know.

Fondly,

Jayce

*

Cait—

Viktor's gone.

He's been missing since last Wednesday. The reason the Enforcers haven't been informed yet is because the Council is keeping it under wraps. But they've alerted the Wardens, and they're conducting a private investigation. Viktor's notes are gone from the lab. His apartment has been ransacked. All the Hex-tech prototypes are missing. 

So is the Hexcore.

I'm worried. Not because the Hexcore could be turned into a weapon of mass destruction. Viktor's been under a great deal of strain. He's not well. I don't want him getting hurt. The fact that all his research has been taken—it makes no sense. He could've been abducted, but there's no ransom note. None of his assistants noticed any signs of foul play. 

There's also been no sightings of Sky Young. Or any traces of her remains.

Cait—I don't want to add to your troubles. But I don't know who else to share this with. I trust you. I value your insight.

And the truth is, I'm a little scared.

The Wardens are suggesting Viktor's gone rogue. More than that. They're speculating that he may be linked to Sky's disappearance. Their inquisitor told me that his behavior during their last interrogation was erratic. That he'd showed signs of paranoia. That he'd withheld key details about Sky's last hours, and lied about the last time he'd seen her.

They're considering the possibility that Viktor was involved in her disappearance.

Cait—I think it's bullshit. Viktor wouldn't harm a fly. He's one of the gentlest souls I've ever known. He's dedicated his life to serving Piltover, and making it a better place. And he’s known Sky since they were children. I never saw anything but respect between them. Her disappearance hit him hard. I was with him when the preliminary investigation was being conducted.

I can tell you: he wasn't faking his grief.

Something else is going on. I don't know what.

But I'm going to find out.

In the meantime, I'm sorry I can't be of more help with tracking down Violet. I don't have any pull with the Wardens, or Silco's administration. And my contacts on the Council won't talk.  Try reaching out to your mother. She's the only one I know who can reasonably intervene. At the very least, she can get her sources to conduct a quiet search.

I know it's not the solution you wanted. I know the stakes are high.

I just want you to know you're not alone.

Warm regards,

Jayce

*

Caitlyn—

It's late, and I know you're probably sleeping. Still, I had to write. Something happened tonight.

The Wardens found Viktor.

He's been located in Zaun. Specifically, at the headquarters of First Chancellor Silco. They're claiming he's defected. What's more, they're stating that he's in collaboration with a notorious chemist, formerly known as Colin Reveck, but currently known as "Singed." The doctor has a record for performing unethical experiments.

He's also rumored to be responsible for the creation of Shimmer.

The Wardens received clearance to access Viktor's medical records. They found traces of Shimmer in his blood samples. Apparently, Viktor's been on the drug for months. He's been hiding the side-effects. There is evidence that he's been taking massive doses. It's been compromising his mind.

And now, according to the Wardens, he's a wanted fugitive.

Sky Young's DNA has been found on his personal belongings.

I can't believe it, Cait. This isn't the man I know. Viktor would never harm Sky. Never. And with his medical condition, he'd be too weak to physically attack her. As for the Shimmer—he's always been adamant about never touching drugs. Or stimulants of any kind. One cup of caffeine was enough to get him buzzed.

He wouldn't take that poison, even in his darkest hours.

Something isn't adding up.

The Council are currently in talks with Zaun's Cabinet. They're demanding that Viktor and the Hexcore be handed over. The Wardens are pushing for extradition.  Mel has been trying—unsuccessfully—to reach First Chancellor Silco. He's been unavailable since last afternoon.

This is bad.

I've got a sinking feeling. Viktor's research—the Hexcore—it's the key to unlocking a whole stratum of potential weaponry. The fact that he's now in Zaun, under Silco’s aegis, isn't a coincidence. Silco's notoriously secretive, but we know that he has an extensive network of spies and informants. If he saw a chance to use Viktor's illness against him, and profit off his genius, he'd seize it without a second thought.

That's exactly what I think is happening.

Viktor's not a criminal. And he didn't disappear of his own volition. Silco must've had a hand in it.

I'm going to figure out how.

Take care of yourself, okay? Please. I've already lost my brother. I can't lose my best friend too.

Be safe. I'll keep in touch.

Jayce

*

Cait—

Sorry I took off so early yesterday. There was no time. The Council had an emergency meeting with HexCorp, and I was summoned as its representative.

Things have escalated. Zaun's Cabinet has denied extradition. They claim that Viktor's entry into Zaun was perfectly legal. What's more, they state that the Hexcore, as one of Viktor's primary inventions, is his to take wherever he chooses. They even claim that the Hexcore is a prototype and, therefore, not an official piece of HexCorp's patented technology.

I'd expected the Council to push back. Instead—and I can't believe I'm writing this—they've acquiesced.

I was speechless. 

The Council's position is that, as a scientist, Viktor has a right to his intellectual property. I argued that we'd both worked on the Hexcore as a team. Therefore, it was ours. They pointed to our original patent agreement, and the fine print that gives us equal, but not joint, ownership. They also reminded me that, as Viktor was from the Fissures, he was legally a foreigner under Piltover's laws.

I remember, during my tenure as a Councilor, pushing for months to get that stupid provision removed, and having my proposal shot down.

Now it's bit the entire city in the ass.

Cait—I'm ashamed to say it. But I lost my temper. In the middle of the meeting, I slammed my fist on the table and demanded to know why the hell they were backing down. Didn't we have the resources, and the right, to protect those who'd served us? Even if Viktor had exited under a cloud, didn't his deteriorating health and the danger the Hexcore posed justify both their retrieval?

Why, I wanted to know, weren't they summoning Silco here to account for his actions? Why weren't they threatening his administration with military force if he refused to cooperate? Didn't he owe us an explanation as to how our greatest innovator had come into contact with him?

It was Mel who answered. She explained that Silco's administration is a sovereign entity. We don't have the authority to demand an audience, nor the leverage to force his cooperation. We're not even legally bound to warn him. Zaun's Cabinet has the right to act independently of our influence. And, as for Silco's personal agenda, that is beyond the Council's purview. He's not obliged to share his secrets. It's his prerogative, not ours.

In other words, we don't have a leg to stand on.

I was so mad. So mad. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe them. It was the same shit I'd had to deal with when I'd first been nominated as Councilor. Except that time, it was the bureaucracy that was hamstringing me. This time, it's the people who I worked with. People who swore to protect our citizens. Who pledged to defend Piltover's principles.

And who are now acting like cowards, unwilling to do what's necessary.

I called them on it. In front of the entire assembly. I asked them where their courage had gone. Why they weren't fighting. Why they weren't even trying. Was this what Piltover was going to become? A society that allowed its greatest minds to be suborned? What the hell were they planning to do when the next inventor came under Silco's spell? Were they going to give up then, too?

The meeting ended shortly afterwards.

 Mel tried to catch me in the hallway, but I was having none of it. She cornered me by the stairs. She wanted to know if I'd reconsider resigning. If we could talk.

I'll admit I was tempted. I haven't seen her since our split, and it's been hard. I miss her. It'd be nice to just hold her, even for a few minutes. To feel sane again. Safe. I know we can't rekindle things. Not with her position, and mine. But a hug, a kiss, some conversation...anything would've been good.

I turned her down.

I said we had nothing to discuss. That she'd made her position clear, and it was not one I agreed with. I asked her what the point of continuing the conversation was if we couldn't agree on the most fundamental matters. If we'd end up arguing over the same things again. I didn't have time for it. My focus had to be on Viktor. On finding a way to bring him home. And if she wasn't willing to help, then we had nothing else to talk about.

She told me I was being foolish. That I'd let my emotions blind me. That my stubbornness was going to be the death of me.

I told her I was fine with that. Because the alternative would be dying inside. That I wasn't willing to let Silco's take everything from me.

Especially not Viktor. 

Cait, let's meet. Soon. We've got a lot to discuss. And I can't do this alone.

Jayce.

*

Cait— 

This is going to be a quick one.

The Council and Zaun's Cabinet have arranged a summit. It's slated for next week. Silco is going to attend. We'll be discussing the terms for Viktor's return, and the repatriation of the Hexcore. Mel has been working to make it happen. It's the first sign of progress. It gives me hope. And it's a chance for me to confront Silco directly.

I'm not going to rest until Viktor's back where he belongs.

I'll ask Silco about Violet. I'll corner him in private, if I have to. I'm not sure how the two of them are connected. If they are, at all. But it can't hurt. And the more I can get him talking, the more opportunities I'll have to figure out what the hell is really going on. What he wants. And why.

I'll send a follow-up letter once I've got more information.

Stay strong. And, whatever happens, please don't lose faith. Piltover needs your courage. So do I.

Jayce.

*

Caitlyn,

I'm so sorry. I need to vent. Too much has happened.

Viktor's staying in Zaun. 

So is the Hexcore.

Negotiations fell through. I don't know why. Silco showed up, and he was civil. More than that, actually. He was polite. He shook hands. He thanked the Council for reaching out, and expressed his appreciation at their willingness to compromise. He'd brought along his Deputy and a few members his Cabinet. They were well-dressed, professional. I was impressed. I was relieved. I'd come prepared to do battle, but he seemed determined to cooperate.

Then it all went to shit.

Cait, I can't explain it. But the whole thing felt... staged. Like Silco already knew how it was going to end. Like the Council had already signed off on some private deal, and were simply going through the motions. Mel opened with the usual pleasantries. She asked Silco about his health. His administration. His relationship with Zaun's citizens.

The latter question was a nod to me. A subtle signal that she was leaving the floor open for me to address him.

I did. I'd been preparing for weeks. I'd even gone over my questions with some of the other Councilors. They'd all agreed that the issue had to be addressed. If the Council was serious about building diplomatic ties, and creating a sustainable rapport with Zaun, then Silco's conduct had to be taken seriously. And he couldn't be given an inch.

He needed to be confronted.

So, as soon as the pleasantries were finished, I asked him what his plans were for the Hexcore. For the Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative. Why, if he was a man of the people, was he taking a magical relic that was potentially volatile out of our control? How was it serving his citizens, or the people who'd been entrusted to his care? How was it serving his principles?

And, most importantly, where the hell was Viktor, and what the hell was his game?

Silco smiled.

The bastard actually smiled.

Then he showed me a letter, in Viktor's handwriting, addressed to the Council. It stated that, because of his deteriorating health, he'd chosen to relocate back home. He wrote that there was only so much treatment the doctors at Piltover could provide. Eventually, he'd need more intensive care. And, as a Zaunite, he was entitled access to the physician of his choosing.

His physician was Colin Reveck.

Singed.

Apparently, if Viktor's letter was to be believed, Singed had known Viktor for years. As a chemist, he had a keen understanding of the disease affecting Viktor's lungs. And he'd been working with him on an experimental treatment. That was the reason Shimmer was in Viktor's bloodstream.

It was an integral part of the therapy. Without it, he'd have died long ago.

Silco also presented records of his conversations with Viktor, during which Viktor had confessed to feeling ostracized in Piltover. To having been made to feel bypassed, not only by the Council, but by his own peers.

By me.

Sky's disappearance had hit him hard, and the strain of maintaining his career and his health had left him emotionally depleted. He'd been forced to make a choice, and he'd chosen life.

He'd chosen Zaun.

I demanded proof. I said there was no way Viktor would write a letter like that. That there was no way he'd willingly choose to work with someone like Singed. He'd always despised putting morality aside for progress. He'd never approved of using animals as test subjects. Or people. I accused Silco of lying. Of blackmailing Viktor, or worse.

Silco showed me a photo.

I'll spare you the worse details. It was Viktor, yes. Definitely him. But the man in the picture looked nothing like my friend. He was... augmented. All over. He had metal plates across his face. There are mechanical appendages in place of his hands. There's gears, and cogs, and wires, on his torso. His throat is encased in a tube, and there is an equalizer outfitted to his chest.

Even his eyes are different. They're no longer his natural color. They're yellow and black. Like hazard lights.

And they glow.

Cait, it was like something out of a nightmare. He looked—he looked like an automaton. Like a cyborg. It wasn't a person anymore. It was a machine. Something created by a mad scientist, and brought to life by evil sorcery.

The timestamp on the photo was two weeks ago. When Viktor was first reported missing. That meant that, between then and now, Viktor had undergone a terrible transformation.

He'd become something inhuman.

Cait, I've known Viktor for years. I've known him better than anyone. But right then, I didn't recognize him. Not even a little bit. And, when I looked up at Silco, I saw him watching me. Watching the horror in my face. Smiling.

Smiling like the Devil himself.

I could've hit him. I would've hit him. Right then and there. But the Councilors intervened. Their security pulled me back. Mel tried to talk me down, but I was too furious. I couldn't believe what I'd seen. I couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to show it. To shove it in our faces. I couldn't believe the Viktor he'd shown me was real.

But it was.

The photograph's been vetted. It's the real deal. So is Viktor's signature. His handwriting hasn't changed. It's been matched to several official documents. His letter, which was accompanied by a medical report from Singed, has also been examined. And, while we've been unable to corroborate its contents, the letter itself has passed a rigorous authenticity test.

Viktor is alive.

And he's staying in Zaun. Under Silco's care.

He's been provided an apartment, a generous stipend, and a state-of-the-art lab. He's been placed in charge of an expanding Hex and chem-tech research division, and given a team of assistants. He's been granted unrestricted access to Zaun's medical facilities for his treatment, and all the resources necessary to conduct his experiments.

All of which are in collaboration with Singed.

There's nothing we can do, Cait. Absolutely nothing. Silco's got him locked in a golden cage. He's using Viktor's genius to advance his agenda, and the fact that he's been augmented is proof that he's not above forcing him into compliance.

Viktor's a casualty. And we're the ones who lost him.

It's all my fault.

They've scheduled a forty-five-minute recess. We'll take a break, then resume for the next session. After that, there'll be a dinner. And more discussions. I can't. I just can't. This is all wrong. Everything. My best friend is gone. Mel and I are no longer together. And the Council. They've failed. Failed us. Failed the city. Failed Viktor.

And something tells me it's going to get a whole lot worse.

Cait, please be patient. I still need to ask Silco about Violet. And I'll do everything I can. You have my word.

Jayce.

*

Cait—

The summit's over. Silco and his people have left.

 And good riddance. I never want to see his rotten face again.

Cait, the whole thing was a sham. A total sham. From beginning to end. Nothing meaningful came out of the meetings. Silco didn't answer a single question. The Council wouldn't hold him to account.  Instead, they started discussing the crisis as if it was a business merger. As if it was some kind of deal to be brokered, and a mutually beneficial arrangement to be made.

Silco had the gall to suggest a compromise.  He said that Viktor, as a Zaunite, should be allowed to continue his research on the Hexcore. In return, the Council will be permitted to oversee his future Hextech projects. Both cities will collaborate to conduct a monthly audit via a joint Oversight Committee. They'd guarantee a set number of patents, and a share of the profits, and even provide funding for further innovations.

I argued that this was unacceptable. It would give the Council no actual leverage, and would only make them complicit in Viktor's subjugation. That they'd be signing a blank check. And that, by working with Silco, we'd be condoning his crimes.

The Council said nothing. They didn't support me. They didn't even try.

Mel agreed with Silco.

I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, Cait. She sided with him. With him!

She said the Council had to think long-term, and that, if we wanted peace, we needed to start acting like the world leaders we claimed to be. She pointed to the economic benefits, and the opportunities the new alliance could create. She reminded everyone that Viktor was a free man, and that he was the one who'd made the decision.

As far as she was concerned, it was his right.

I was outraged. I told her this wasn't the time for political theater or corporate speak. This was a human being's life we were talking about. And Viktor wasn't free. He was a hostage. If the Council really wanted to serve their citizens, they'd stand up to Silco. They'd demand the repatriation of the Hexcore. Then they'd demand Viktor's release.

And they'd use every means possible to get him back.

Then Silco dropped a bombshell.

He said, as thanks for the Council's cooperation in facilitating Viktor's "return" to Zaun, he'd make a gesture of goodwill. He'd draft legislation to outlaw the production of Shimmer as a narcotic, and to ban its distribution for recreational purposes. And, to prove his intentions were sincere, he'd have the new law approved by a vote, and the legislation made public. Only medicinal uses, he stressed, would remain legal.

The Council, he went on to suggest, could enact a blanket embargo on Shimmer's importation. Points of entry would be monitored, and Piltover would take steps to crack down on illegal trafficking. It would send a message to Piltover's allies, that Zaun was serious about pursuing the path of legitimacy. And that its partnership with Piltover was a symbol of that intent.

I was shocked.

So was Mel. And the rest of the Council. This wasn't what anyone had been expecting. This wasn't the Silco we'd known. He was offering to put himself in our debt. To cut ties with the illegal drug trade, and to allow the Council the opportunity to enforce sanctions against bad actors.

It was a major concession.  It would effectively eliminate a key revenue stream in Silco's operation, and cripple the underworld's most valuable market.

Cait, I'll admit it.

I didn't see the trap until it was too late.

Silco doesn't need to distribute Shimmer within his city anymore. Because he's got the Hexcore. And it's capable of making breakthroughs in science and magic, beyond anything we've ever known. He's got some of the world's greatest innovators under his thumb. The only limits are their imaginations.

With the fruits of their labor—and the Council's backing—investors will flock to Zaun. Capital will pour in. The city will grow. Its economy will flourish.

No drugs needed.

I was the only one who spoke out against it. I felt like a complete jerk. But I had to state my case. I argued that the Council had to consider the risks. That we couldn't trust Silco, no matter how immaculately he dressed up his proposal. Who was to say he wouldn't take the Council's investment and put it into other ventures? What if he began funneling the investors' coin, and used it to finance bioweapons? What if he turned Zaun into an armory, right under Piltover's feet?

And, even if he did give up the drug trade, what about his human trafficking? His smuggling? The brothels, and the illegal casinos, and the underground fighting pits?

What about his ties to organized crime?

The Council dismissed my concerns.

They were eager. Eager to shake hands. Eager to sign on the dotted line. Eager to move forward.

The deal, Mel explained, would be the cornerstone of a lasting relationship between Zaun and Piltover. The Council's approval was vital. It would lend a stamp of legitimacy to Zaun's new order. And, she stated, it was the only way to avoid future conflict.

I was disgusted.

She was trying to sell the summit as a success. Like we hadn't given up a critical piece of our national defense, and put it into the hands of a foreign dictator. Like Silco hadn't blackmailed Viktor, or taken advantage of his illness, or exploited his vulnerability. Like he wasn't an abusive tyrant who ruled by fear, and murdered in cold blood.

Like he hadn't just gotten away with everything.

Cait, I can't tell you what happened. I don't have the words. I was angry. So, so angry. And disappointed. With the Council. With Mel. With myself. I couldn't stand to be there a moment longer.

So I walked out.

After the summit, I waited to catch Silco in the lobby. He was heading towards his limo. There were no security personnel. Just him and his Deputy Chancellor and a blackguard. He was smoking a cigar, and strolling like a man with all the time in the world.

I didn't say a word. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.

I told him he had a choice. Either he could hand over Viktor and the Hexcore, or I'd beat the truth out of him.

The bastard smiled. He smiled at me.

Then he said, "Pet."

Someone grabbed me from behind. An arm went around my throat. A hand wrenched my elbow behind my back. I struggled, but couldn't break free. The grip was like iron.  I half-turned, expecting to see Silco's Deputy. It was the blackguard.

Cait...

It was Violet.

She was in a full-on bodyguard get-up. Black suit. Black shirt. Black visor. Black boots. Her was cropped short, and she'd gained muscle. She looked lean, and hard, and strong.

Like a soldier.

She didn't say a word. She kept me in a sleeper hold, until the Deputy arrived with security. I don't know how many Councilors saw me in that position. I don't know what they must've been thinking, or what they must’ve been saying.

I was seeing stars. I was dizzy. I could barely breathe.

Then Silco said, "Drop him."

Violet obeyed.

When I came to, I was on my knees. My neck hurt. My arm hurt. My head was pounding. It was hard to focus. Then two steel-tipped boots materialized in my line of sight. I looked up, and there was Silco, staring down at me.

He was calm. Collected. Completely at ease.

"You'll have to forgive her," he said. "She's still being trained."

Cait, he knew.

He knew I'd ask him about Violet. He knew you'd placed inquiries looking for her. He knew we were concerned for her wellbeing.

So he'd had her accompany him to the summit, as a deliberate provocation.

He was taunting us both.

"I'd advise you, as a personal favor, to not try this again," he said. "If you do, you may find the outcome... less forgiving."

I told him to go fuck himself.

I think he smiled. It's hard to remember.

With a fingertip, he gestured Violet over. She came. I'll never forget that. The way she obeyed. Without hesitation. Without question. Not once did she acknowledge my presence. I still remember when I'd drop by for tea sometimes at your flat, and she'd scowl when she saw me. Or roll her eyes. Or say, "Oh, look. Pretty-Boy's here."

There was none of that. Nothing. Just total silence.

Total obedience.

Then Silco took her by the chin.

"There's a good girl," he said, and stroked her cheek.

 It made my skin crawl.

I told myself it was because of Silco. Since the Siege, I'd been looking into his past, and there's enough material in the dossiers to turn your blood to icewater. I can't imagine the psychic price of serving that monster. I can't even imagine the pressure of being a blackguard at his beck-and-call.

I told myself it was the thought of Violet at his mercy, night after night. I told myself it was because she'd lost her autonomy. That she was trapped. That she was under duress.

I told myself that's why my gut was churning.

I'm sorry, Cait.

That's not the truth.

The truth is, I wasn't scared of Silco.

I was scared of Violet.

No—I was terrified.

Cait—there was a look in her eyes. I don't know how to describe it. A coldness, almost. Like she wasn't seeing me, or the Deputy, or anyone. Only Silco. She didn't flinch when he touched her. She didn't even blink. She was completely unmoved. Like a soldier on the parade ground.

Like a weapon waiting to open fire.

The limo pulled up. Silco and his Deputy got inside. I remember Vi holding the door open for them. And I remember her turning, one last time, to look at me.

There was nothing in her face. No emotion. No recognition. No regret.

Just empty.

Then she got inside, and the door swung shut. They drove off.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Cait, it's all I can think about. How different she looks. How hard she seems. And that stare. That terrifying, horrible stare.

What the hell did Silco do to her?

Cait, I'm coming to visit. We have a lot to talk about.

Jayce

*

Cait—

I have news.

Big news.

After I left your flat, I went straight home. A courier had just dropped a missive off at my place.

It was from the Wardens.

Their theory on Viktor being responsible for Sky's disappearance is crumbling. Despite their suspicions that Viktor was the last man to see her, their investigation has been unable to locate a single shred of evidence.

Viktor's laboratory is clean. No fingerprints, no signs of foul play, no indication of a struggle. Even the cameras, which the Wardens have accessed using a subpoena, showed no signs of her leaving with him. Her clothes, and belongings, were still inside the building. And her bike was still parked outside.

They're still not sure how she vanished. It's like she was swallowed up by a black hole.

As for the DNA—a secondary lab test revealed it was a mistake. Just a case of cross-contamination. They'd mistaken an old sample from a previous search in Sky's apartment. The report had gotten mixed up with Viktor's case file. The mistake had been made by an intern, who'd mislabeled a sample, and the senior investigators had simply repeated the error.

All in all, it was a complete botch-up.

The evidence is circumstantial. There's nothing that implicates Viktor.

For now, they've dropped charges.

I should be thankful. I know Viktor hasn't committed any crimes, and there's no concrete evidence of his guilt. It was a stretch to accuse him of involvement in Sky's disappearance.

But now there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. The timing's too convenient.  First the Council caves to Zaun, and lets Viktor remain as Silco's prisoner. Now the Wardens have decided, of their own accord, not to press charges.

It makes no sense.

Worse, my own mind's playing tricks on me. I keep replaying the night Sky was reported missing. How distraught Viktor was. How he could barely speak. Barely look at me. He was a wreck, and I believed his distress was sincere. I'd told the Wardens, time and again, that there was no way Viktor had done anything to harm Sky.

I'd vouched for him.

Now, though...now, I'm not so sure.

The thing is, we still don't have all the facts from that night. Sky was last seen exiting her office at eight o' clock. The cameras see her walking down the main corridor. Then, at nine thirty, her assistant goes in to check on her, and finds her gone. Her bike's still there. Her street clothes are still on the rack. All her possessions are still inside.

But no Sky.

Where the hell did she go?

The cameras don't show her exiting the building. Which means she must still be in there. Except there's no trace of her. None. 

Then it hit me.

The Hex-lab—mine and Viktor's workspace—had no cameras. A security camera had been installed, but Viktor had requested it be removed. He'd said, and I quote, "We are scientists. Our work necessitates a degree of privacy." It was part of our terms with the Council, and an addendum to our patent agreement. The lab would be kept off-limits, except to those involved with the project.

Viktor, Sky, and I were the only one who had the keycard.

And Viktor was the only person in the lab that night.

Caitlyn—I'm worried. It's possible I've made a terrible mistake. I've been so fixated on finding Viktor, I haven't stopped to ask myself why. Why would Viktor disappear without a word? Why would he take all his notes, abandon his post, and go into hiding? Why wouldn't he ask me for help? Or at least leave a note?

I've been thinking—what if he doesn't want to be found?

What if something bad happened between him and Sky? Something so terrible, he had no choice but to run?

Cait, please—help me figure this out.

Your friend,

Jayce.

*

Cait,

I had a fight with Mel.

I'm ashamed to say it. To be honest, it's embarrassing. I've never raised my voice at her before. Or sworn at her. Or, frankly, behaved like such a prick.

Here's what happened.

After my talk with you, I went straight to her penthouse. I was in a bad place. I'd hit the bar—awful idea, I know—and then gone for a walk. It was raining. I ended up in one of the city's parks. It's near her place. I sat on a bench and tried to get my thoughts together. Everything—why Viktor could've left, why Sky might've disappeared, why  the Council were so willing to negotiate with Silco—was running through my head.

I just wanted to talk. I wanted a friend. I wanted her.

Cait—you told me how hard it's been since Violet left. How much you've been hurting. Not the everyday stuff. I know about that. But it's the other things, too. Like how you don't feel like yourself anymore. Like there's something hollow in you, that only she can fill. And nights are the worst. You miss the closeness. You miss the warmth.

And, Gods help me, the sex.

That's the part I miss the most. I can't tell you how many times I've woken up at night, dreaming about Mel, and I've had to stop myself from calling her up at four o'clock in the morning.

It's hard, Cait. Being apart. It's really hard.

I know how you feel. So you'll understand perfectly why I went to see Mel. I know we broke things off. I know it was my decision. And, no, I didn't expect us to pick up where we'd left off.

I just wanted someone to talk to.

Before I knew it, I was at her penthouse. I was soaked, and cold, and drunk. It was the middle of the night. But the doorman recognized me. He let me in, and called ahead to let her know.

She was waiting for me.

I'll never forget how she looked, Cait. She was wearing a silk robe.  One of my favorites: all white lace and gold brocade. Her hair was loose, and it smelled like hyacinths. You know, I've never told you this, but I used to comb Mel's hair before bed. I wasn't very good at it. Sometimes I'd end up pulling too hard. But she'd smile, each time, and show me the trick to gently working through the knots. She'd kiss my hands. Then she'd kiss me.

Then—

Well, I think you know.

Seeing her again. Seeing her so soft, and warm, and lovely. It took my breath away.

It took everything.

Cait, I'm not going to lie. We ended up in bed. She said she'd missed me. And, damn it, I'd missed her. So much.

So very, very much.

I can't say I don't love her. How can I not? She's smart, and gorgeous, and funny. She's passionate. She's fearless. And I admire her. She has a way of commanding a room, but also of making every single person feel heard. She makes me feel heard. When I talk to her, I feel like I can say anything. Do anything. Be anything.

I needed that. I needed her.

She felt the same.

It was beautiful. Intimate. Wonderful. Sure at first, we were both a little awkward, and clumsy, and I'd forgotten to shave the past few days. But, after a few minutes, we were like two people who'd never left each other. Two people who'd never been apart.

Two people in love.

When we finished, we held each other. Then she kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Jayce, darling... you're home."

And, Cait, it felt like it. Like I'd finally come home.

It's not until after I'd showered, and was heading back into the bedroom, that the doubts crept in. Those nagging little doubts. Things I'd pushed down. Things I didn't want to confront. Like how the Council and Silco seemed to be on the same page in advance.  Like how they were giving him carte blanche to exploit a man's genius, and use it for their own gains.

Like how Mel, out of everyone, seemed to know exactly what Silco was thinking.

Like she was expecting it.

I slipped back into bed with Mel, and I held her. Still, the questions came in my head. They came quietly, at first. Softly. Then, as the silence between us grew, they began to gain volume. Until I was sure she could hear them too.

Then I asked her the question.

"Why didn't you fight?"

At first, she pretended not to understand. So I said it again, louder.

"Why didn't you fight, Mel? Why didn't the Council?"

She turned. She was looking at me. Searching my face.

"You had a chance," I told her. "You could've fought for Viktor. You could've fought for me. Why didn't you?"

There was a long silence.

"I didn't have a choice," she said.

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth. I didn't. Jayce—you don't understand. There's more at stake than just the Hexcore. It's a small piece of a bigger issue. That issue being—how can we maintain our peace with Zaun. You have to understand. It's not only about your friend."

"Viktor. His name is Viktor."

"Viktor, yes. But we need to think of the whole picture. It's not just him. It's our trade agreements. It's our economic stability. It's our reputation as a city. As the City of Progress."

"So it's not important, what's happening to him. Because he's not a Piltovan, he's expendable."

"That's not what I'm saying. Please. Don't twist my words."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that a single man, or his personal rights, cannot eclipse the good of a city. You've been obsessed. You've been chasing shadows, instead of addressing the real problems."

"Like the Council selling out their best innovator to a dictator."

For the first time, her eyes disconnected from mine. "He isn't a dictator."

"Isn't he? What do you call someone who murders his way to the top, and uses his power to enslave his citizens?"

"We've held discussions, Silco and I. He wants prosperity for his city. Freedom for his people. I want the same for ours. To achieve that, we must compromise on certain issues. He's no model of merciful leadership, I grant you. But he's a pragmatic man. A visionary. Someone who can bring lasting change."

"He's a monster."

"Jayce. Darling. Your anger blinds you. I know he's committed terrible crimes. And yes, we've made deals that neither of us is pleased with. But, in the end, the outcome is worth the price. Our cities will grow together. We'll create a lasting, sustainable peace."

"At the cost of my best friend'."

"Viktor chose to leave. It's his right."

"Only because he had no choice. He couldn't stay in Piltover. Not with the Wardens falsely accusing him."

"Jayce—" A shadow fell across her face. "Please. Stop. This isn't getting us anywhere. Can't you see that? If you keep on fighting, you're only going to make things worse."

"Worse for who? The Council?"

"For Viktor. And... for you."

There was something in her eyes. Something... dark. Almost desperate.

"Please, Jayce. You need to trust me. I have your best interests at heart. I've been working to protect you. You've no idea the things I've—" She cut herself off.

I asked her what she was talking about. I asked her what the hell was going on.

That's when she told me.

Cait, the Warden's investigation? Mel is the one who called it off. Not because of inconclusive evidence. Not because of the waste of resources. Not because the security camera footage was inconclusive.

She called it off, because the Wardens had irrefutable proof that Viktor had killed Sky.

It wasn't just the fact that he was the last man to see Sky alive. Or the fact that she was last seen near the corridor to the Hex-lab. 

It was the fact that, in the lab itself, they found Sky.

Or rather, her bone dust.

It was everywhere. Motes of it, on the floor. On the chairs. On the workbench. Someone had tried to clean it up, but not thoroughly. Not enough to remove the residue. And the forensics team had been able to confirm, using chemical analysis, that the samples were mixed with Viktor's DNA.

His, and no one else's.

The Wardens were set to launch an arrest warrant. Then Mel had intervened.

"It would've been a disaster," she told me. "A disaster for him. A disaster for Zaun. And for us. I had no choice, Jayce. None."

I was shocked. My brain couldn't comprehend what she was saying. It was impossible. Viktor wasn't a murderer. He couldn't be. He just couldn't.

I asked her if Silco knew.

She admitted that he did. He was the one, in fact, who'd tipped the Wardens off. Apparently, a remark Viktor had made during a conversation with his Deputy Chancellor had caught Silco's attention. He'd sent a blackguard to Viktor's lab, on the pretext of collecting leftover notes. During a search, the blackguard found traces of bone dust. He collected the sample and turned it over to the Wardens.

There were no signs of tampering. The evidence was months old.  And it was damning.

"I can't believe this." I whispered.

Mel put her arms around me. She held me tight.

"Jayce," she said. "I'm sorry. Silco and I—we decided that the best thing would be for Viktor to remain in Zaun. For the charges to be dropped. So long as he confines his work to the Fissures, he'll have complete freedom. But should he return to Piltover..."

She didn't finish.

She didn't need to.

Cait, the Council and Silco. They've conspired against Viktor. Against both of us. They're letting him remain in Zaun, so that he can continue his research on the Hexcore. But, should he return, he'll be arrested.

And I'll be forced to testify.

It was too much. The idea that my best friend could be a killer. The fact that Mel knew. That she'd been complicit. The betrayal, by the Council, who'd gone along with it all. The duplicity. The corruption.

It was just too much.

I couldn't stop myself. I lost control. I leapt out of bed. I shouted. I called her a liar. I asked her how she could do it. How she could let him stay, and put him in danger. How she could be so calculating. So cold.

So much like... Silco.

She didn't answer. She was crying. I've never seen Mel cry. Never.

And, Gods help me, I didn't care.

Cait, I stormed out of her flat. I left her there, in tears.

I can't go back. I can't forgive her. I can't forgive myself.

I'm writing you now from a bar. It's three o' clock in the morning. I can't go home. I can't bear to sleep. I can't stop thinking. About the summit. About Mel. About Viktor.

About the future.

Cait, please help.

I'm lost.

Jayce

*

Jayce—

Destroy this message the minute you read it. You're being monitored.

Your apartment is being watched.

Your office, too.

I know, because so is mine.

Silco knows you're trying to make contact with Viktor. He knows I'm trying to reach out to Vi. The only reason he's permitted you to communicate with me is to bait a trap. I've gone back and deleted every missive I've written to you. Do the same. You need to watch your back. If the Wardens find out you've been trying to make contact with a suspected killer, it's not just your career.

It's your freedom.

You're a private citizen now. They won't hesitate to arrest you. And I won't be able to stop them.

Jayce, this is serious.

You're a hero. You're the face of Hextech. You've changed the world. You can't afford to throw it away. If you get caught, it'll be catastrophic.

Please. I'm begging you. You have to stop.

We can't contact each other via missive. Not until I can figure a way out of this.

Caitlyn

*

Caitlyn,

Don't worry. I won't put you in danger. I've found a workaround. I've created a secure channel, which will allow us to correspond without being intercepted. I've also modified the pneumatic tubes. It will take some time, but I can rig a system, which will ensure the messages are delivered directly to your desk.

I need a favor.

Your department has access to the Warden's database. How high is your clearance? Can you get access to their records on Sky? I'd like to have a look at their files.

I'll explain when I see you.

Jayce

*

Jayce,

I got in.

Here are the files.

Hurry. I don't know how long the clearance will last.

Cait

*

Cait—

Thank you.

This is incredible. You're amazing.

I've been reading through the records. It's difficult, because a lot of stuff has been redacted. But I've managed to piece together the timeline of Sky's disappearance. It's hard to believe, but the case has been open since the day she went missing. It's bigger than the Wardens let on to the Council.

There's more here than I expected.

According to the records, the Wardens were already investigating Viktor.  He'd been placed on their Watch List, under suspicion of having ties with the Undercity's chemists. It was a flimsy pretext, and he wasn't a suspect. Just a person of interest.

They were tracking his movements, to see if he had any known associates belowground.

Then Sky was killed.

By now, I know she was killed. It's hard to watch. There's security footage, from the night she went missing. It's in black-and-white, and it's grainy. You can see Sky, exiting her office, and walking down the main hall. She's still in her lab coat, with her notes under her arm. Her hair's up, but her ponytail's slipping. She's got a smile on her face, and a spring in her step.

It's strange, Cait. But I can tell, even though she's just a shadow on the screen… she's happy.

She's going to see Viktor.

I know she's going to see Viktor, because the security cameras are tracking her movements. And they show her walking down the main hallway, past my office, and into the stairwell. From there, she goes to the third floor. The cameras lose her there. There's no coverage inside the Hex-lab.

It has no cameras, remember.

But something happens six minutes later. There's a—a fluctuation, almost. In the video. The image blurs. It's like the camera's glitching.

Except it's not the camera.

Cait, I've seen that fluctuation before.

It's a Hex-field.

I can tell because, while the image distorts, the edges of the hallway remain sharp. Which means the field's expanding outward, in a dome pattern, from a central source. The source, in question, is the Hexcore.

It's been activated.

I've checked the timeline. The hex-field is only active for a few seconds. Then it's gone.

But Sky never returns.

I've been over the footage a hundred times. And the conclusion's always the same.

Sky entered the lab. She met Viktor. Then he killed her.

Why, I can't say.  Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was something else. The point is, her remains were never found. Only traces of her bones.

I've got to find him, Cait. I've got to talk to him.

I've got to understand what happened.

Jayce

*

Cait—

It's a trap.

You were right.

I did something stupid. I didn't think. I took a risk, and it's backfired. 

I went into Zaun. I had no formal dispensation; no notarized travel pass; no clearance from the Council. I was, effectively, trespassing on foreign soil.

I didn't care.

I was going to find Viktor. I needed answers on what had happened. I wasn't going to let him stay down there, hiding from what he'd done. I was going to make him tell the truth. Then, maybe, we could figure out how to fix this mess.

So, in the middle of the night, I armed myself with my hammer. I went down to the harbor. I was careful to avoid the usual checkpoints you'd told me about. I headed for a small, out-of-the-way pier, where the patrols were less frequent. I'd borrowed a friend's boat. It was small, and not the fastest, but it's quiet. I managed to sneak past the harbor's first buoys.

Then, I crossed the border.

 Zaun's different now.

I remember the last time I was in the Fissures to get supplies. Back before the Siege. It was rundown. It was rancid. The streets were in disrepair. The people were sullen. There was poverty and sickness, and a sense of despair.

Things have changed.

The Promenade's undergone a transformation. It's like a state-of-the-art motherboard framed in multicolored neon. They've repaired the streets, and the buildings are lit up like stars. They're clean. Pristine. Even the air smells different. Less acrid.

It's almost... pleasant.

It was late, but the shops were open. The crowds were out in full-force. They were mingling in the plazas, drinking at the bars, dancing in the squares. I passed an upscale club, and there was a line snaking all the way around the block. There were people of all classes and creeds, and they were dressed up, and celebrating.

Like it was a holiday.

I couldn't believe it. After everything that monster's done, the people of Zaun are out, and living it up, like it's the greatest carnival in the world. Like they're grateful. Grateful to have Silco in charge.

Cait, it's surreal.

It's as if, after years of fear, they're finally free. Not only free from Piltover's control—from its judgment, its oppression, its prejudice. It's like they're free in their souls. They're happy. Joyous.

But I can't shake the feeling that they're in a trance. As if, with the bright lights and poppy colors, Silco is hypnotizing them. He'd holding them in thrall, so they'll worship him, and not notice the bodies he's left in his wake.

That's how I felt, walking through the Promenade. Like I was following a parade of automatons, fueled on sensory ecstasy.

I tried talking to a few passersby, and they seemed nice. Friendly.

Some of them, too friendly.

I'm not sure how, but they knew I was a Topsider. A couple of them offered to give me directions. Others were eager to buy me drinks. A few asked if I'd like a dance.

One thing's for certain: they're much more welcoming now. Like, now that Zaun's nearabouts Piltover's equal, bygones can be bygones, and no one cares about a bit of old history.

I wasn't there to debate history, though. I was there to find Viktor.

I asked a few of the locals if they'd heard of him. It didn't seem to ring any bells, though a few said he sounded familiar. Then I mentioned he'd worked on Hex-tech, and a chorus rose up.

"Oh! The Machinist!"

That's what they call him in Zaun. They've forgotten his name. Or maybe they don't care.

What matters is that he's terraforming the urban landscape. Changing the city. Bringing the Fissures up to par. Creating a new Zaun, and building it up from ground-zero

I was shocked. He's already begun work? It's only been a few weeks.

But it's true. Apparently, Silco has put him in charge of a full-scale revitalization project. He's using the Hexcore to create new infrastructural designs. Changing the way the city is laid out, and making the Fissures over from a mud-hole into a metropolis. He has a whole team of engineers, and an entourage of blackguards. Every week, they're working on a new layer of the city.

A fresh coat of paint, if you will.

This week, they were overhauling the turbines. The next, the power grid. The one after that, the sewage system. By the time the Expo's begun, Zaun will be a chromed-up paradise.

And Silco will be lauded as its liberator.

The irony.

I was told he'd be working on the turbines this week, and to head toward the eastside. So, that's where I went.

The zone was a hive of activity. Tremors from power-drills under my feet; sparks from welding torches in the air; bodies swarming over scaffoldings. It looked like a small army had been drafted, and was working their hands to the bone. The entire sector had been cordoned off. 

The turbines stood on platforms, towering over the street. They were colossal works-in-progress: rivets the size of hubcaps, steel girders dense as concrete blocks, pistons the width of my chest. They were astonishing, Cait. The scale of them was unreal. Their alloy-shelled interiors seemed to be a combination of metallurgical compounds and Fissure-seam crystals, the two meshed together into a seamless matrix with a shimmery-green tint.

There were runes, too.

Hex-runes.

They were inscribed all over the turbines. And, judging by the way the technicians were treating them, they weren't simply decorative. They were a critical component of the new design.

I'd never seen anything like it.

I couldn't help but admire Viktor's work. He'd done all this in less than a month. Except it wasn't just him. Here and there, I saw a familiar monkey motif scrawled into the blueprints, or decorating the turbine's frame.

It was Jinx's signature.

It hit me, then, like a gut punch. Viktor hadn't done this alone. Jinx was collaborating with him. Her notes were scattered throughout the designs. This wasn't a solitary operation with a spur-of-the-moment breakthrough. This was a joint venture, between two rogue agents. One that must have been in the works for months.

Or longer.

I felt a chill go down my spine.

Silco had likely planned this—this coup—from the moment of the Peace Treaty.

And there was no telling what he had planned next.

Cait, I had to stop him. I had to find Viktor.

I asked a few technicians if they'd seen him. I was directed to the south end. I didn't have a plan. All I knew was that I had to find him. Confront him. Demand an explanation.

Then I saw him.

He stood in the middle of the mayhem, directing the crew.  At first glance, he seemed the same. Same height. Same build. Same accent. But that was a trick of the eye. Like my memory was a distorting medium, and my mind had supplanted an old image onto a new reality.

Because, when he turned, it was like he'd been replaced by someone else.

Someone I barely recognized.

He seemed taller, somehow. His movements were more fluid; his stiffness less pronounced. He didn't walk. He glided. The balls of his feet seemed to float a bare millimeter above the ground, as if the air itself was propelling him forward. And the way he carried himself, with such confident assurance—it was like his world had expanded, in the span of a few weeks, from a sickbed to a stage.

That's when I noticed his cane was different.

It wasn't the ergonomic model he'd designed for himself, as his mobility declined. This was a prong-tipped rod, polished black, with a barb at the base. Like a javelin. It was a definite case of function over form. No aesthetic appeal. No concession to comfort.

Just a weapon.

But, Cait, that's not what unnerved me the most.

That was Viktor himself.

Because he wasn't Viktor. He was some unnervingly close approximation dressed in patches of Viktor's skin, with steel seams running through the missing spots. His skull, torso and limbs are half-cybernetic. The right leg—the one that 'never behaved' as he'd sometimes put it—has been replaced with a mechanical prosthesis. It's got a titanium exoskeleton, and a carbon-fiber frame, and a hydraulic heel. The knee's a ball joint. The thigh's an articulated piston. It's like a work of art. The most horrifying work of art you could imagine.

But it's not just his leg.

His right hand—the one he'd taken to wearing a glove on—is now a four-fingered steel claw. It's hinged at the wrist, and the phalanges are articulated, and the palm's been fitted with a projectile port.

I know, because I watched him fire it.

It was a blackguard, one of the many onsite. The guy was being a dick. He was bullying some of the workers, and shouting at them, and generally harassing everyone within earshot.

Then Viktor walked up, and calmly ordered him to stand down.

The blackguard laughed.

Viktor didn't hesitate. He didn't say a word. He lifted a hand. The steel palm opened, and the projectile port spun, and the muzzle flared, and a blast of hot green light shot out, and blasted a hole straight through the guy's sleeve. It must have singed his skin, too, because the blackguard let out a howl.

Then he fell to his knees, groveling apologies.

Viktor, with terse instructions to the rest of the crew, turned, and left.

I couldn't believe it.

He'd shot at a man.

Without flinching. Without pausing to consider the consequences. Without even acknowledging the guy's pain.

He'd changed, Cait.

The Viktor I knew was gentle. He had a self-effacing slouch, an earnest smile, and an uncanny ability to see the best in people. He was always questioning, always second-guessing, always willing to learn. 

This man was nothing like that.

This man was... hard.

As if the softness had been drained from him.

Just like Violet.

As he strode off, I was able to catch strains of conversation. Cait—his voice has changed completely.  He's got an equalizer attached to his mouth, which runs on a small internal pump, and has an integrated voice modulator. It's the reason his accent's less pronounced. His tone's deeper, too. It's more authoritative. More commanding.

Less human.

The rest of his face is the same as the photograph. There are sensors on his cheeks, and his jaw is augmented with a cybernetic clamp. Then there's the eyes. The sockets are lined with a copper alloy, and the lenses are bionic. No pupils; no sclera. Just two reflective orbs with a glowing core.

Golden and black. Like looking into a pair of glowing embers.

Except they're cold.

I followed him. He wasn't going far. There was a trailer nearby, where blueprints were spread out over a makeshift table. He stepped inside. I'd expected to see Jinx. I was sure she'd be there. After all, she was collaborating with him. She'd drawn up half the diagrams, and, by the looks of things, had helped him implement them, too.

But the trailer was empty.

Viktor was alone.

Then I realized Viktor knew I was there.

"Jayce," he said, without turning around. "You are trespassing."

His voice, even through the equalizer, was the same.

Except it wasn't.

It was cold, too.

"Viktor," I said. "We need to talk."

He still didn't turn. "If the blackguards find you, they will arrest you. And, should they do so, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"I know what happened to Sky."

There was a prolonged silence punctuated by the distant sound of power tools. Then, very slowly, he turned. Our eyes met, and even though every muscle and nerve ending in my body fought it, I couldn't stop myself from flinching at the totality of his transformation.

At the eerieness of it.

"Sky," he said, at last, "is gone"

"I know.  She's dead. The Wardens found her bone-dust in your lab. You killed her."

"Jayce, you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"I didn't kill her. Not in the way you think."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Viktor, you were the last person to see her alive. She was last seen near the Hex-lab. There are traces of her DNA mixed in with your own. What the fuck am I supposed to think?"

He said nothing. His breathing rasped like an iron file through the air. It was a strange, grating sound. His lungs, I understood, had been augmented, too. The extent of the mechanization, in such short a time-frame, couldn't be man-made.

Then I understood.

"Magic," I said.

He didn't answer.

"That's what happened, didn't it? You were using the Hexcore's magic. Not on tools. On yourself. And you didn't want anyone to know."

Still he said nothing.

"But it went wrong, didn't it? The Hexcore did something to her. She was in the lab, and something happened, and she got hurt. Badly. So badly that you had to dispose of her. And you thought, if you were careful, no one would ever find out. That you'd get away with it."

"Jayce—"

"Is that why you left? Because you were afraid of being caught? Dammit, Viktor, answer me!"

He looked at me, and the stare was preternaturally calm. But I could feel an intense heat cooking the air around him. He didn't raise his voice, or gesticulate, or make any move against me.

He kept on staring.

"Jayce," he said at last, "before I left Piltover, I was working on a theory. One involving the Hexcore. I had discovered that, with the right runic sequence, it was possible to channel its subatomic energies into living flesh. Through an organic compound as the catalyst, and the correct sequence as a stabilizer, the Hexcore's powers would no longer be tied to its physical matrix. We'd use it to augment living things. Restore damaged muscle. Heal sick tissue. Repair a faulty organ. Even..."

"What?"

"Prolong life."

Dazed, I shook my head. "Viktor, that's impossible. That level of transfiguration—"

"Can be achieved. All that's necessary is for the Hexcore to sustain the right frequency, at the correct resonance. A harmonic pattern, if you will."

"We tried, remember? We tried, with plants and fungi. We couldn't even manage to make a weed grow. The results crumbled, or rotted, or—"

"—died. Yes." His breath shivered like a metal grate in a storm. "That is because the runic sequence is incomplete. To channel the Hexcore's power, a keystone rune is needed. Something to anchor the harmonics. Act as the focus. Without it—"

"Viktor, please. You're not making any sense—"

"I was trying to extend life, Jayce!"

For the first time, the flat dial tone of his voice shifted. I heard, subaudible but discernible, a quaver of grief.

"Extend life," he whispered. "Not take it."

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. My breath came hot, nauseous. "You messed up. Didn't you?"

"Jayce—"

"You screwed up. Something went wrong. You did something to Sky. You killed her."

He gave a single jerky nod.

My guts turned over. The fear had been replaced with disgust. With anger. I couldn't stand to look at him. To see what he'd done.

What he'd become.

"Where's her body?" I demanded.

"It's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

He rubbed his jaw, the bones grinding side-to-side. It was old gesture. The one he'd make, whenever he was uncomfortable. Or guilty.

"It was consumed."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jayce, please. You must believe me. I—I did not intend for her to die. I did not even realize she was there until after—"

"After?"

The glow in his bionic eyes dimmed. "The Hexcore, when it opened, created a feedback loop.  The catalyst in my blood was to be the sensor, absorbing the concentration of the energy's signals. The runes on my body were the integrating centers, the medium through which the feedback would be channelled.  But—but there was not enough of one to balance the other."

I understood. "The Shimmer. That's why it was in your bloodstream. It interacts with the Hexcore's harmonics. Instead of destabilizing the resonance, it amplifies the feedback. It's what allows you to maintain a stable connection."

"Yes."

"And the runes. They're not for stabilization. They're for augmentation. For transmutation."

"Yes."

"And Sky? Where did she fit into all this?"

 A strange darkness filmed Viktor's bionic eyes. "She was not meant to be there. I should have—should have locked the door. Should have—but no, I did not think. It was too much, the moment. The chance, too great. If it had worked—" He broke off. His head drooped, slowly, as if his neck was made of wires stretched too taut. "She was there. The Hexcore's field was activated. It took her."

"Took her."

"Blindly. As a mouth takes in food. She was trying to pull me away. She was saying my name. Viktor. Viktor. She did not understand." His cybernetic fingers flexed around his cane. "I could not stop it. Could not shut down the Hexcore. The energy—it was too strong. Too much."

"You're saying the Hexcore absorbed her?"

"Her flesh. Then her bones. Then her essence. Until nothing remained." His chest vibrated, like an engine winding down. "Nothing but dust."

A cold fist gripped my heart. I thought of the security footage. The fluctuation, and the blur. It hadn't been a camera glitch.

It had been the Hexcore.

"Viktor," I breathed. "My Gods."

His head remained bowed.

"This is why, isn't it? Why you asked me to destroy the Hexcore. You knew, then. Knew how powerful it was. How dangerous. You wanted me to shut it down."

"Destroy it," he whispered. "Yes. But that was before—"

"Before, what?"

"Sky. In her notes. She'd left me a—a message. Only, it was never intended for my eyes."  He unstuck his jaw with effort, as if his teeth were glued together. As if the words themselves were too heavy to shape. "Sky was working on a project. One I'd encouraged. Every week, she would show me her findings. I would provide suggestions, or offer assistance, as needed. She was a brilliant researcher, Jayce. And unlike myself... she never forgot her roots."

I swallowed. It was hard, around the knot in my throat. "What—what was her project?"

"Life." The word was soft, almost reverent. "Here, in Zaun. She'd designed blueprints for a Hex-filtration plant. Something to purify the water. Sewage removal. Runoff collection. All to make the streets where she—where we both—grew up, safer. A habitable home for the people who needed it most."

"And now... you're building it."

"Yes."

"With Silco's blood money."

He lifted his head. The contours of his expression iced over; robotic, remote. "The blood money is the Council's. Silco is only the siphon."

"What—?"

"Or do you not hold the Councilors complicit in the Undercity's degradation?"

"That's not—"

"Not the same?" Something in his bionic eyes crackled. It could've been anger, or amusement, or a thousand other emotions, and I wouldn't have known the difference. "Tell me, Jayce. Why are you here?"

I was taken aback. "Because—because I needed to know the truth."

"You know the truth." The last humanity dissolved out of his voice, leaving a mechanical buzz. "You wanted to hold me accountable."

"If you'd killed Sky—"

"You've killed too, Jayce."

A stone lodged in my chest. It was cold. It was hard.

It was the truth.

Cait—only you, Violet and Mel know what I did. That night, at Silco's Shimmer factory. The boy caught in the crossfire. The boy who'd died because of my recklessness.  I've lived with the memory of his face ever since. It's haunted me. Night and day. No matter how much I've tried to justify it. No matter how many good deeds I've done.

The fact is, I took a life.

And Viktor knew.

For so long, I'd kept it from him, out of shame but also fear. The fear of him judging me, as no different from the other Topsiders. The same ones who'd mistreated him as a boy; who'd buried his city under their refuse and left the people to rot. I was afraid, Cait, of him hating me. Of him realizing how little I deserved his friendship.

And now he did.

 Silco, I thought, icy splinters of rage in my gut. He knew too.

He knew—and he'd used the knowledge to turn Viktor against me.

"Viktor," I began.

"Jayce." His voice was dead as the grave. "Do not."

"Look, please, I—"

"You should not have come. Your presence will be construed as hostile. There will be consequences."

"Then let's leave. Come back with me. I can protect you. The Council, they'll—"

"Forgive me?" His lips approximated a smile. "No. That, I think, will not happen."

"You can't stay here. Not under Silco's thumb. He's using you, Viktor. Using the Hexcore. You can't trust him. Can't you see?"

"I can. You cannot."

 "Viktor—"

"I cannot return to Piltover, Jayce.  My mistakes have made it impossible. I understand that." The mechanical ruthlessness returned to his voice. "You, in turn, must understand. I will not return, because of your own."

My entire axis tilted. I couldn't believe my ears. I was reeling.

"You—you don't mean that."

"I do."

"You'd really choose Silco, over Piltover?"

"I choose neither."

"But—HexCorp. Our research. Me. Us."

"I am sorry, Jayce."

And for the barest moment, the briefest heartbeat, his bionic eyes seemed wetly sheened. As if he was still human.

Then it was gone.

His cane tapped, twice.

A heartbeat later, blackguards melted from the darkest corners.

I counted four. They'd been posted all around. In the shadows.

Waiting for him to give the signal.

I knew, then, that I'd been set up.

Silco had goaded me into coming. He'd known I'd confront Viktor, and Viktor would reveal what had happened to Sky. Then the blackguards would appear, and there'd be arrest warrants. Public censure. Tarnished reputations.

All the while, Viktor would remain in Zaun, free to pursue his work.

I'd played right into his hands.

"Viktor," I said. "Please. Don't do this."

"Goodbye, Jayce." He turned. "You must not return."

"Viktor—"

"Take him."

Cait, I barely had time to react. The blackguards closed in, and my hammer was out, and the energy pulsed, and I managed to get off a shot, and send two of the men flying back, until—

A blow to the back of my skull.

The ground rose up, and slammed into my face.

The world went dark.

When I woke, I was in a holding cell. A dank, cramped space, with a barred door and a cot, and a bucket in the corner.  My head throbbed. My hammer had been confiscated. My wrists were chafed from old shackles.

But, other than that, I was unharmed.

I wasn't sure how long I was kept there. Time passed strangely, in a fog of disorientation. It felt like days, but couldn't have been more than a few hours. Finally, a guard appeared. He escorted me out. We took a lift down to an underground garage, where a limousine was waiting. He shoved me in, and I braced myself for the worst.

Maybe Silco would have me strangled. Maybe they'd put a bullet through my skull. Maybe they'd dump me in the river.

I had a dozen scenarios running through my head. None of them ended well.

None of them came close to reality.

Mel was sitting inside.

Silco had informed her, via a confidential courier, of my entry into Zaun. That I'd gone across the border, unsupervised, armed, with no clearance. That I'd trespassed, and threatened Viktor. And that, in doing so, I'd violated the terms of the Peace Treaty.

Politically, it could've been catastrophic. Months of negotiations—the careful cultivation of trust, the fragile bonds of diplomacy—all put at risk. If Silco had decided to press charges, to use the incident as leverage against Piltover, or retaliation for a perceived slight, the Council would've been hard-pressed to respond.

But he hadn't.

Mel told me, afterward, that the crisis had been resolved behind closed doors. She'd taken the ferry to Zaun, requested a private meeting, and met with Silco in his office. There, after some back-and-forth, she had convinced him to drop the charges. In exchange, the Wardens had agreed to a temporary suspension of my duties at HexCorp. It was, in effect, a forced sabbatical. One I was to spend, for three months, under house-arrest.

During that time, I was forbidden from entering Zaun.

Mel told me all this later. In that moment, sitting beside her in the car, I couldn't bring myself to speak. I was too ashamed—too overwhelmed—to say a word.

We rode in silence.

Cait—I've been such an idiot.

I've gambled high, and I've lost. And because of that, Piltover had nearly lost, too. I'd put myself before my city. Before the safety, the security, the future of our people. I thought of how I'd exploded at Mel, that night in her flat. How I'd left her there, in tears. How I'd jeopardized everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Everything I'd fought so hard to create.

All because of my own blind, selfish, outsized ego.

All because I thought I could swoop in and save the day.

Gods, what an ass I've been.

Throughout the ride, I kept looking sidelong at Mel. She sat, straight-backed, her hands in her lap, her eyes cast forward. Her dress was pristine, her hair was coiffed, her makeup was impeccable. To the untrained eye, she looked flawless.

I knew her better.

I saw the way her hands were a white-knuckled twist. I saw the subtle quiver of her lower lip. I saw the lavender shadows under her eyes.

The guilt was suffocating.

She'd saved me. She's always saved me. And how have I repaid her? With scorn. With mistrust. With disrespect.

I wanted to fall at her feet. Beg her forgiveness. Tell her how sorry I was, and how stupid I'd been, and how wrong.

I didn't.

Instead, I sat there. Staring at my shoes.

We pulled into her driveway.

"Jayce," she said. "Go. Rest in the guestroom. I'll have the maids send up some tea."

Her tone was polite, but distant. Reserved.

I nodded. "Thanks."

"Jayce?"

I paused, halfway out of the car. "Yes?"

She turned, at last, and met my stare. Her eyes were dark, and sad, and tired.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said simply.

Cait, I couldn't say a word. I could barely breathe. I hesitated for just a second, then pulled her across and into my arms. She embraced me, and as soon as I felt her warmth, smelled her perfume, I couldn't stop myself.  The past few weeks—Viktor's departure, the truth of Sky's death, the realization that I'd nearly ruined everything—everything came rushing back.

I broke down.

I was crying, Cait. Crying in her arms. Like a child. She held me. She didn't say anything. Just held me.

I don't deserve her.

I truly don't. But having her close, and knowing she cared, was a lifeline. Since the Siege, it's like I've lost a tiny bit of my reality. My grasp on the world. Every day, it's been a little harder. Then Viktor left, and Sky died, and the pieces of my world started falling apart.

Mel is the one of the few pieces still anchoring me.

I wanted to tell her this, Cait. I wanted to tell her, how much she means to me, and how sorry I was, and how grateful. I wanted to tell her, over and over, that I didn't deserve her, and how, despite it all, I was never going to leave her side.

I didn't, though.

I kissed her.

It wasn't planned. It just... happened. I kissed her. She was still in my arms. We were still in the car. I was still crying.

Then I was kissing her.

She let me, for a little bit. Then she broke, gently, and turned her head. Putting a palm on my chest, she nudged me back.

"No, Jayce."

"Mel..."

"You need to rest. We'll talk, later."

"Mel, I..."

"Later," she said softly.

It wasn't a request.

And so, I let her go. I walked into the penthouse, and was escorted upstairs. But, Cait—it was the loneliest walk of my life. Because I realized why, when I'd kissed her, she'd withdrawn.

Not because it was the wrong time.

Not because I was in shock.

Not because she was mad.

Cait, she's seeing someone else. I can't say how I know. Just that I can sense it. And, the worst part is, I can't blame her. After the way I've treated her—blowing hot, then cold; pushing her away, then pulling her close; accusing her of things she'd never do, then expecting her to help me when the shit hits the fan—it's no surprise she's moved on.

And how can I expect this gorgeous, sophisticated, brilliant woman, with her head screwed on straight, and her heart in the right place, and the courage to speak truth into power, to stick around?

Especially when I'm acting like a spoiled, sulky, immature, selfish asshole.

She's better off.

But not me.

I've fucked up, Cait. I've hurt people. I've hurt my friends. I've endangered Piltover. All because I've been too caught up in myself. Because I've let my pride run wild.

Because, at the end of the day, maybe I'm still just a boy meddling with things I don't understand.

I think it's time that boy grew up.

It's time he made the world a better place.

P.S.

This will be my last correspondence for a little while. I'll be going upcity to my mother's place.  I've got a few projects in mind, and if I'm going to be under house-arrest, might as well put my time to good use.

Before I go, though, I want to thank you.

For your support. Your honesty. Your friendship.

For everything.

Cait, you're the best.

Your friend, always,

Jayce

*

 To Jayce Talis, Esq.

Sir,

You will oblige me to ask the following: Are you out of your fucking mind?

First, you attack the First Chancellor in plain view of half the Council. Then, you decide it would be a good idea to traipse across the border, unescorted and armed with Hex-tech, without a notarized travel pass. Then, not satisfied with having broken one law, you have the gall to threaten one of our citizens—our brightest minds—with abduction and bodily harm. Then you injure two blackguards, and thereby put yourself, and the integrity of the Peace Treaty, at risk.

Now, you have the balls to write to me—demanding an audience with the First Chancellor, once your house-arrest has expired.

Your arrogance knows no bounds.

Read carefully, sir. Because I will only say this once:

No.

No, you will not have an audience with the First Chancellor. No, we will not divulge the address of the Machinist, Viktor. No, we will not disclose blackguard Violet's current location. And no, you will not be given leave to enter the Fissures, unsupervised and with your hammer.

That is final.

Your last letter, demanding a 'sit-down' (you have, evidently, been reading too many tabloids) is not only a grave presumption. It is also a threat against the integrity of this office. Your future letters, from here on out, will be marked as "Return to Sender." The prior ones, we've already compiled and forwarded to the Council, who have assured us will investigate.

I trust they will take the proper disciplinary actions.

Janna knows, you deserve a slap on the rear. A hard one.

Given your tenure as a former Councilor, we are prepared to show a degree of leniency. You are a prominent figure in the public eye. We recognize the emotional impact of your mentor, Dr. Heimerdinger's, passing. We also know that you have suffered the loss of Viktor's partnership, and are under intense strain in your private life. 

In light of these facts, the First Chancellor has agreed to overlook your invective. We will not press charges, and will not seek punitive action, so long as you cease any and all communication with the First Chancellor. You are also instructed to desist any further inquiries into the whereabouts of the Hexcore.

If you continue to persist in your obstinate line of inquiry, the First Chancellor will no longer be inclined to clemency. You will find yourself facing multiple felony charges, which may carry a term of imprisonment.

Consider carefully.

The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit.

Kindly refrain from further correspondence. Unless it’s in the form of an apology. A similar letter of warning has been forwarded to Enforcer Caitlyn Kiramman. In light of your close personal relationship, we request you relay the message next time you meet.

Regards,

Sevika M.

P.S.

The First Chancellor has also requested we share the following message:

"The boy's letters are charmingly feisty. The girl's, surpassingly eloquent. I am delighted to know that two such exceptional individuals are among our neighbors. My only regret is that they spend more time throwing rocks, and less time building bridges."

"When their aim improves, they will be welcome to visit. Until then, they are advised to keep their distance."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane viktor #viktor #arcane jayce #jayce talis #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #arcane mel #mel medarda #arcane sky #sky young #meljay #mel x jayce #jayvik #jayce x viktor #arcane vi #vi #caitvi #violyn #caitlyn x vi #vi x caitlyn #arcane zaun #arcane piltover

[mandareeboo]

WHAT IN THE NAME OF TRIBBLES ARE YOU????

#Arcane #Arc02 #Professor Heimerdinger #Mandar Liveblogs

[incorrect-piltover-quotes]

Jayce: Thanks for always giving me great advice professor, even if I don’t always use it.

Heimerdinger: You actually never use it.

#incorrect piltover quotes #incorrect quotes #league of legends jayce #league of legends heimerdinger #jayce talis #cecil b heimerdinger #league of legends #riot games #source: harley quinn

[fiddlezips]

Viktor: I’m dying, professor. Heimerdinger:

#I'm kidding you know I love Heimer #art #zip's fanart #Arcane #League of Legends #heimerdinger #Viktor #animated