JAYCE TALIS

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

He wondered if Jayce could feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

"This... This looks bad." He murmured eventually, groaning as his knee protested the slow ascent from the floor. "Stay here. Don't put weight on it, trust me, it will only make it worse."

The light in the bathroom turned on automatically as Viktor reached inside to grab the first aid kit. His reflection caught his eye, looking on in horror as he saw his normally pallid cheeks flushed with color. A quick splash of cold water on his face, and he limped his way back to Jayce, sliding back down onto his knees in front of him.

“Fuck.” He growled through his teeth, the sound ragged and as if pulled from the depths of his throat. Finally, when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and scanned his wounds. The skin shimmered under the faint light, a thin film of skin still healing from the recent gash he acquired.

With his luck, his wounds were most likely infected, judging from the discoloration of his skin. Slowly, Jayce leaned forward in his seat, studying the colored veins that rippled through his gash. Ever since he touched the arcane, it was as if it has weaved itself into his body—forever entwined. Could anything even remove the scourge that was brought upon him?

He was still tracing Jayce's skin.

Slowly, he stood up from his chair, his taller figure towering over the other man,

The clacking of the cane against concrete filled the night air, accentuating the awkward silence that stretched on between them. Was it awkward? Viktor was certainly feeling awkward. Jayce...hell, he couldn't tell what Jayce was thinking. But if he was anything like his Jayce, he didn't much like silence.

His sharpened features remained set, a stoic expression keeping his mind impervious. There was this crazed, almost dangerous gleam in his eyes—like a cornered animal prepared to strike. Yet, from whatever miracle it was, Jayce kept himself collected, barely hinged to his sanity.

Suddenly, a crooked smile appeared on his face, softening the cracked features along his ragged skin. Somehow, a smile alone made him look… almost normal, as if nothing bad had ever happened.

After a moment of staring, Viktor quickly turned his head back forward, cane clicking as he started to walk again. He silently thanked Janna that the front of him was facing away from Jayce.

“Territorial disputes are settled with a sole victor, no? So, if you were to pick a winner, what is it you want in return?”

Purposefully, Jayce closed the distance, his warm breath ghosting over his nape as he added,

Janna, please don't look down.

"I-I am not sure what the... what the terms of this whole rigamarole is. And why am I the one meant to judge it?" Viktor sped up, gaze pointedly forward, cheeks growing hotter by the moment. Just another block to go, just one more, and then...

“I’m just saying. You know I can get competitive, especially if there is something I want.”

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

He wondered if Jayce could feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

"This... This looks bad." He murmured eventually, groaning as his knee protested the slow ascent from the floor. "Stay here. Don't put weight on it, trust me, it will only make it worse."

The light in the bathroom turned on automatically as Viktor reached inside to grab the first aid kit. His reflection caught his eye, looking on in horror as he saw his normally pallid cheeks flushed with color. A quick splash of cold water on his face, and he limped his way back to Jayce, sliding back down onto his knees in front of him.

“Fuck.” He growled through his teeth, the sound ragged and as if pulled from the depths of his throat. Finally, when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and scanned his wounds. The skin shimmered under the faint light, a thin film of skin still healing from the recent gash he acquired.

With his luck, his wounds were most likely infected, judging from the discoloration of his skin. Slowly, Jayce leaned forward in his seat, studying the colored veins that rippled through his gash. Ever since he touched the arcane, it was as if it has weaved itself into his body—forever entwined. Could anything even remove the scourge that was brought upon him?

He was still tracing Jayce's skin.

Slowly, he stood up from his chair, his taller figure towering over the other man,

The clacking of the cane against concrete filled the night air, accentuating the awkward silence that stretched on between them. Was it awkward? Viktor was certainly feeling awkward. Jayce...hell, he couldn't tell what Jayce was thinking. But if he was anything like his Jayce, he didn't much like silence.

His sharpened features remained set, a stoic expression keeping his mind impervious. There was this crazed, almost dangerous gleam in his eyes—like a cornered animal prepared to strike. Yet, from whatever miracle it was, Jayce kept himself collected, barely hinged to his sanity.

Suddenly, a crooked smile appeared on his face, softening the cracked features along his ragged skin. Somehow, a smile alone made him look… almost normal, as if nothing bad had ever happened.

After a moment of staring, Viktor quickly turned his head back forward, cane clicking as he started to walk again. He silently thanked Janna that the front of him was facing away from Jayce.

“Territorial disputes are settled with a sole victor, no? So, if you were to pick a winner, what is it you want in return?”

Purposefully, Jayce closed the distance, his warm breath ghosting over his nape as he added,

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

He wondered if Jayce could feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

"This... This looks bad." He murmured eventually, groaning as his knee protested the slow ascent from the floor. "Stay here. Don't put weight on it, trust me, it will only make it worse."

The light in the bathroom turned on automatically as Viktor reached inside to grab the first aid kit. His reflection caught his eye, looking on in horror as he saw his normally pallid cheeks flushed with color. A quick splash of cold water on his face, and he limped his way back to Jayce, sliding back down onto his knees in front of him.

“Fuck.” He growled through his teeth, the sound ragged and as if pulled from the depths of his throat. Finally, when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and scanned his wounds. The skin shimmered under the faint light, a thin film of skin still healing from the recent gash he acquired.

With his luck, his wounds were most likely infected, judging from the discoloration of his skin. Slowly, Jayce leaned forward in his seat, studying the colored veins that rippled through his gash. Ever since he touched the arcane, it was as if it has weaved itself into his body—forever entwined. Could anything even remove the scourge that was brought upon him?

He was still tracing Jayce's skin.

Slowly, he stood up from his chair, his taller figure towering over the other man,

The clacking of the cane against concrete filled the night air, accentuating the awkward silence that stretched on between them. Was it awkward? Viktor was certainly feeling awkward. Jayce...hell, he couldn't tell what Jayce was thinking. But if he was anything like his Jayce, he didn't much like silence.

His sharpened features remained set, a stoic expression keeping his mind impervious. There was this crazed, almost dangerous gleam in his eyes—like a cornered animal prepared to strike. Yet, from whatever miracle it was, Jayce kept himself collected, barely hinged to his sanity.

Suddenly, a crooked smile appeared on his face, softening the cracked features along his ragged skin. Somehow, a smile alone made him look… almost normal, as if nothing bad had ever happened.

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

He wondered if Jayce could feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

"This... This looks bad." He murmured eventually, groaning as his knee protested the slow ascent from the floor. "Stay here. Don't put weight on it, trust me, it will only make it worse."

The light in the bathroom turned on automatically as Viktor reached inside to grab the first aid kit. His reflection caught his eye, looking on in horror as he saw his normally pallid cheeks flushed with color. A quick splash of cold water on his face, and he limped his way back to Jayce, sliding back down onto his knees in front of him.

“Fuck.” He growled through his teeth, the sound ragged and as if pulled from the depths of his throat. Finally, when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and scanned his wounds. The skin shimmered under the faint light, a thin film of skin still healing from the recent gash he acquired.

With his luck, his wounds were most likely infected, judging from the discoloration of his skin. Slowly, Jayce leaned forward in his seat, studying the colored veins that rippled through his gash. Ever since he touched the arcane, it was as if it has weaved itself into his body—forever entwined. Could anything even remove the scourge that was brought upon him?

He was still tracing Jayce's skin.

Slowly, he stood up from his chair, his taller figure towering over the other man,

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

He wondered if Jayce could feel his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

"This... This looks bad." He murmured eventually, groaning as his knee protested the slow ascent from the floor. "Stay here. Don't put weight on it, trust me, it will only make it worse."

The light in the bathroom turned on automatically as Viktor reached inside to grab the first aid kit. His reflection caught his eye, looking on in horror as he saw his normally pallid cheeks flushed with color. A quick splash of cold water on his face, and he limped his way back to Jayce, sliding back down onto his knees in front of him.

“Fuck.” He growled through his teeth, the sound ragged and as if pulled from the depths of his throat. Finally, when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and scanned his wounds. The skin shimmered under the faint light, a thin film of skin still healing from the recent gash he acquired.

With his luck, his wounds were most likely infected, judging from the discoloration of his skin. Slowly, Jayce leaned forward in his seat, studying the colored veins that rippled through his gash. Ever since he touched the arcane, it was as if it has weaved itself into his body—forever entwined. Could anything even remove the scourge that was brought upon him?

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

"That didn't answer my question," He said firmly, trying to keep his voice even through the nerves. A sharp inhale through his nose; this Jayce even smelled wrong. Not bad, per say, just wrong.

The laboratory remained the same, with a few papers and equations varying in place. Yet, his attention fell back to Viktor and the question pending. If only he could understand how much of a sight he was for a man whose eyes were sore from endless misery. If only Viktor could understand the kind of burden he carried while he remained separated from all he knew and loved.

“Even if I tell you, would you believe me?”

"Maybe. Maybe not."

From where he sat, Jayce watched him make a cup of barely passable coffee. Whatever liquid that was brewed from the machine was adequate in caffeine but very poor in taste. Without even tasting it, a small whiff already made Jayce remember the countless nights spent here in this laboratory—nights he spent with Viktor.

“An accident with the hexcore teleported me to another dimension. As you can see, it was not a pleasant experience.”

Now that got his attention.

"Another dimension?" He glanced over his shoulder as he set the mugs down. "I suppose that would explain the different appearance from Jayce. Er, my Jayce, anyway. But I find myself...curious." Viktor had a certain way of speaking in these situations, when a problem had presented itself without any hope of finding an answer. Most people thought him dry, unemotional.

But those closest to Viktor would be able to hear the excitement.

Taking a cursory smell of the milk in the mini fridge, he shrugged. Good enough. In one of the mugs, he threw a handful of sugar cubes, in the other, only two, followed by a heavy handed splash of milk. He swore under his breath. Always too much, no matter how careful.

“I was trapped in that dimension. For how long is anyone’s guess.” Weight filled every word, his voice still ragged as if he spoke through a mouthful of gravel. Yet, he took the cup of coffee and eagerly drank, the liquid soothing most of the sores in his throat,

“I only survived because I fell into a ravine… though, it resulted in me..” Jayce gestured to his bad leg, the metal of the brace gleaming under the dim light. He took another swig at the coffee, finding the mixture pleasant compared to the brine he called water while he remained sequestered in the cave.

Slowly, Jayce leaned back into the chair, a heavy sigh leaving him as the weight in his bones lifted. It has been too long since he had felt comfortable, a simple pleasure he had taken for granted—among other things.

His attention went from the other man’s fingers and to his face, curiosity soon building within him,

Then, the straps around his calf, higher up, Viktor noted, probably to avoid rubbing against the injury. Finally, the one around his ankle. He gently slid the makeshift device off, lying it gently onto the floor. Though his eyes had been focused on the task at hand, as his fingers curled around his pant leg, he hesitated, glancing up to Jayce for a moment, as if seeking permission.

“Only because I wanted to come back to you.”

A second had passed until realization settled. The way he had said it, the meaning behind his words—Jayce could only hope that Viktor remained oblivious to his pining. Hastily, Jayce cleared his throat and added,

“Because I wanted to come home.”

His gaze then landed on the slender fingers wrapped around his ankle, looking away to save some face of propriety. Yet, in the back of his mind, Jayce thought… why should he bother with ideas of decency?

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

"That didn't answer my question," He said firmly, trying to keep his voice even through the nerves. A sharp inhale through his nose; this Jayce even smelled wrong. Not bad, per say, just wrong.

The laboratory remained the same, with a few papers and equations varying in place. Yet, his attention fell back to Viktor and the question pending. If only he could understand how much of a sight he was for a man whose eyes were sore from endless misery. If only Viktor could understand the kind of burden he carried while he remained separated from all he knew and loved.

“Even if I tell you, would you believe me?”

"Maybe. Maybe not."

From where he sat, Jayce watched him make a cup of barely passable coffee. Whatever liquid that was brewed from the machine was adequate in caffeine but very poor in taste. Without even tasting it, a small whiff already made Jayce remember the countless nights spent here in this laboratory—nights he spent with Viktor.

“An accident with the hexcore teleported me to another dimension. As you can see, it was not a pleasant experience.”

Now that got his attention.

"Another dimension?" He glanced over his shoulder as he set the mugs down. "I suppose that would explain the different appearance from Jayce. Er, my Jayce, anyway. But I find myself...curious." Viktor had a certain way of speaking in these situations, when a problem had presented itself without any hope of finding an answer. Most people thought him dry, unemotional.

But those closest to Viktor would be able to hear the excitement.

Taking a cursory smell of the milk in the mini fridge, he shrugged. Good enough. In one of the mugs, he threw a handful of sugar cubes, in the other, only two, followed by a heavy handed splash of milk. He swore under his breath. Always too much, no matter how careful.

“I was trapped in that dimension. For how long is anyone’s guess.” Weight filled every word, his voice still ragged as if he spoke through a mouthful of gravel. Yet, he took the cup of coffee and eagerly drank, the liquid soothing most of the sores in his throat,

“I only survived because I fell into a ravine… though, it resulted in me..” Jayce gestured to his bad leg, the metal of the brace gleaming under the dim light. He took another swig at the coffee, finding the mixture pleasant compared to the brine he called water while he remained sequestered in the cave.

Slowly, Jayce leaned back into the chair, a heavy sigh leaving him as the weight in his bones lifted. It has been too long since he had felt comfortable, a simple pleasure he had taken for granted—among other things.

His attention went from the other man’s fingers and to his face, curiosity soon building within him,

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

"That didn't answer my question," He said firmly, trying to keep his voice even through the nerves. A sharp inhale through his nose; this Jayce even smelled wrong. Not bad, per say, just wrong.

The laboratory remained the same, with a few papers and equations varying in place. Yet, his attention fell back to Viktor and the question pending. If only he could understand how much of a sight he was for a man whose eyes were sore from endless misery. If only Viktor could understand the kind of burden he carried while he remained separated from all he knew and loved.

“Even if I tell you, would you believe me?”

"Maybe. Maybe not."

From where he sat, Jayce watched him make a cup of barely passable coffee. Whatever liquid that was brewed from the machine was adequate in caffeine but very poor in taste. Without even tasting it, a small whiff already made Jayce remember the countless nights spent here in this laboratory—nights he spent with Viktor.

“An accident with the hexcore teleported me to another dimension. As you can see, it was not a pleasant experience.”

Now that got his attention.

"Another dimension?" He glanced over his shoulder as he set the mugs down. "I suppose that would explain the different appearance from Jayce. Er, my Jayce, anyway. But I find myself...curious." Viktor had a certain way of speaking in these situations, when a problem had presented itself without any hope of finding an answer. Most people thought him dry, unemotional.

But those closest to Viktor would be able to hear the excitement.

Taking a cursory smell of the milk in the mini fridge, he shrugged. Good enough. In one of the mugs, he threw a handful of sugar cubes, in the other, only two, followed by a heavy handed splash of milk. He swore under his breath. Always too much, no matter how careful.

“I was trapped in that dimension. For how long is anyone’s guess.” Weight filled every word, his voice still ragged as if he spoke through a mouthful of gravel. Yet, he took the cup of coffee and eagerly drank, the liquid soothing most of the sores in his throat,

“I only survived because I fell into a ravine… though, it resulted in me..” Jayce gestured to his bad leg, the metal of the brace gleaming under the dim light. He took another swig at the coffee, finding the mixture pleasant compared to the brine he called water while he remained sequestered in the cave.

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

"That didn't answer my question," He said firmly, trying to keep his voice even through the nerves. A sharp inhale through his nose; this Jayce even smelled wrong. Not bad, per say, just wrong.

The laboratory remained the same, with a few papers and equations varying in place. Yet, his attention fell back to Viktor and the question pending. If only he could understand how much of a sight he was for a man whose eyes were sore from endless misery. If only Viktor could understand the kind of burden he carried while he remained separated from all he knew and loved.

“Even if I tell you, would you believe me?”

"Maybe. Maybe not."

From where he sat, Jayce watched him make a cup of barely passable coffee. Whatever liquid that was brewed from the machine was adequate in caffeine but very poor in taste. Without even tasting it, a small whiff already made Jayce remember the countless nights spent here in this laboratory—nights he spent with Viktor.

“An accident with the hexcore teleported me to another dimension. As you can see, it was not a pleasant experience.”

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

"That didn't answer my question," He said firmly, trying to keep his voice even through the nerves. A sharp inhale through his nose; this Jayce even smelled wrong. Not bad, per say, just wrong.

The laboratory remained the same, with a few papers and equations varying in place. Yet, his attention fell back to Viktor and the question pending. If only he could understand how much of a sight he was for a man whose eyes were sore from endless misery. If only Viktor could understand the kind of burden he carried while he remained separated from all he knew and loved.

“Even if I tell you, would you believe me?”

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.

Could it?

"Jayce...?" He tried, the name sounding uncertain on his lips. This couldn't be, he had seen Jayce earlier today, and he didn't look anything like this.

“Glad to see you’re still observant.”

With what remaining strength he had, Jayce dared himself to take a step closer. Now, he was less than a foot away from Viktor, his neck craning downwards to meet the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.

Somewhere in the distance, Jayce could hear a faint rhythm—metal clashing against metal—as it hammered away without so much as a tremble. His eyes fell to his hands, calloused and bruised skin greeting him as moonlight spilled overhead. Then, his attention turned to his new surroundings, familiarity soon following.

These halls. He knew these halls well.

Without wasting another moment, Jayce hurried through the hallways. His footfalls were heavy and firm against the marble floor, thunderous in sound. Even with an injured leg, his pace remained brisk—never once wavering to the pain that consumed his weary body. Turn after turn, he began to wonder,

Was this another one of his delusions? Was he really here?

For the sake of his sanity, he needed it to be real.

The prototype claw hissed as it returned to its resting position, not budging no matter how frantically Viktor waved his his hand around. A wiggle of the fingers earned a twitch from the prongs, but nothing more. He circled his work bench, before spotting an ever growing puddle of slick liquid leaking out of one of the beams.

A hydraulics failure. Perfect. Fantastic.

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping over on his stool. "Well, thank Janna I did not add the laser yet." He muttered to no one but himself. As his eyes followed the hydraulics fluid slowly creeping across the bench, his fingers traced the notes on the schematics. A big, blocky script, and a quavering chickenscratch, trading ideas and little bits of praise. He smiled ever so slightly, in spite of himself.

It had been many, many hours since he arrived in the lab. Viktor idly guessed that it was past midnight already, maybe later. And now he was faced with an issue not easily solved, at least not alone.

Maybe he should call it a night, go home, get some sleep.

...

Or maybe he should get another cup of coffee.

Resigning himself to another all nighter, he tucked his crutch under his arm and stood, walking over to the big steel door and pressing the button to open it.

As Viktor saw the figure standing at the doorway, he darted back, his bad leg bending at an awkward angle. He stared with wide eyes, white knuckle grip on his crutch. "Wh-Who are you?" He hated how pathetic that sounded, and took a deep breath, forcing a firmness in his voice. "This is a private facility. You are not supposed to be here. State your business before I call security."

For a fleeting second, the noise in his head deafened—its constant screeching now replaced with that familiar, placating voice. The only sound that stirred between them was his breathing, heavy and laborious in its rhythm.

“Viktor.”

Jayce rasped, his voice sounding dry. It was as if the poor man had little to drink. Despite the ragged depth in voice, it carried a lightness to it—almost reverent when the name left his chapped lips.

His battered hands were pressed against the sides of the doorframe, his hulking figure dwarfing the other man in front of him. From his disheveled appearance, Jayce looked more like a begger than a once respected scientist. His beard and hair were unkept, clothes in visible tatters.

But the look of utter desperation, captured deep within his russet eyes, did little to keep his emotions at bay.