{⚙️}: The more Elise spoke, the more interested Viktor seemed to become. He no longer seemed distracted, but instead focused on her intently as she explained her endeavors in attempting to aid the ailments of the Undercity. It wasn’t every day he ran into someone who cared about the people of Zaun up here in Piltover, especially one who was actively going out of their way to help them. He respected that, greatly.

Golden eyes widened in what seemed to be recognization when the noxious gasses were mentioned, and he blinked at the little bag that was placed upon his work desk. He reached forwards, glancing from the woman, to the bag, and back, before taking it. As he spoke, he fiddled with the tie, opening it up to peer inside.

“You say this respiratory medicine is… giving you trouble.” he says, as he pokes a finger into the powder, and rubs it between said finger and a thumb, “What issues have you experienced, exactly?”

She was glad that the other’s chill seemed to be melting away. For a moment Elise feared she had made the trip up here, past the guards and everything, for nothing. Not that the guards were a particular issue. They clearly weren’t used to dealing with magic which was a little comforting. It felt nice to know she had an ace up her sleeve in case of emergencies.

“I am having difficulties determining the exact makeup of the gases. I have had to engineer backwards from the ailments it causes,” Something she had only been able to do thanks to having ample amounts of experience and a worryingly large sample size, “and what I could conclude from burn residue.” but that was too imprecise. “Which, to be frank, is taking ages and is not at all as conclusive as I would like it to be.” Elise simply didn’t have the equipment to examine gas. Sighing she shrugged. “But I am sure I will get it eventually.” She usually did.

“You’re looking for equipment, then? Or perhaps an engineer.” he questions, assessing the stranger again, contemplating. It wasn’t every day he ran into someone who cared at all about the people of the Undercity, let alone someone going through so much trouble to actively help them. He was certain Jayce would agree that having a few less resources for a while would be worth it, for a good cause.

“I may be able to help.” Viktor finally concludes, moving to tie the little bag of water-purifying powder bag up, holding it aloft in his hand, “With both of these endeavors. Testing of the Undercity’s polluted air, especially. I may have, eh, some personal interest in the issue, myself.” as if to accentuate his point, he was forced to turn away as a fit of ragged coughs wracked his body. Thankfully, no blood followed, this time.

{⚙️}: “I know what I am doing.”

Viktor had every intention of doing this on his own, and was not worried about juggling items in his hands. He had leaned on his crutch without holding the handle before, and when in doubt, his teeth could hold his light as he picked the lock. Simple.

When Jinx jogged off and away from him, he gave a sigh of relief, hoping beyond all hopes that she had gotten bored of his defiance, and had left. Good. The last thing he wanted was to be bothered right now. He covered his mouth as he coughed, and continued on his way.

But, after he had struggled down the rocky embankment, deep into the cave, he saw her. Much to his dismay, it looked like Jinx had not gotten bored, and instead had simply run ahead to beat him.

“Where did you get that?” he asked breathlessly, clear suspicion in his tone, “How do I know this is not some form of trick?”

“I know where Singed keeps a spare.” She ignored his second question for now, turning to unlock the door anyway despite him not asking. Other then the glowing of the tanks and usual equipment, it was dark inside. She entered, turning on the lights and almost skipped over to the tank that contained the mutated floating body of Rio. 

“Why would I trick you? I’m curious to see why you’re so determined to break into a man’s lab who would kill you if he found out you were stealing from him.” She placed her hand on the glass of the tank, staring up at Rio. She had always thought the beast was beautifully sad to look upon. She knew how it felt to an extent now; to be alive when you should be dead. 

“Why would a dying man fear death?” he retorted, his tone flat. Viktor left her to her ogling to move about the place, start searching for what he had come to find.

But he was stalled by Jinx’s words; gutted, the breath stolen from his ragged lungs. He simply stood for a long moment, feeling a lump form in his throat, threatening to choke him. Viktor had done this to himself, had made his decision to toy with his mortality. Rio, he knew, hadn’t had this choice. She had simply been an unfortunate soul in unfortunate hands.

“…We are nothing like her.” he hissed.

With that, he stepped forward, continued his search. He hadn’t been shown where things were kept, when he had first visited the lab. The Doctor had simply… handed Viktor his first— and only— vial of Shimmer, which he had unwittingly used the entirety of in his first experiment.

{⚙️}: Heimerdinger was always complimentary of Viktor. It was… nice, admittedly, to receive that recognition, to feel that someone else put value in your work. Of course, grading and filing paperwork were not the kind of endeavors the young scientist wanted to be known for, but, he supposed, that would come in time. For now, he needed to be patient. Dean’s Assistant was a prestigious position, after all. He should be honored.

The Professor earned himself a light smile, and an amused huff from the inventor, “My lips are sealed.”

Though Viktor listened intently as the yordle spoke, he found himself feeling… a tad lost, as to how these two points were connected. He watched as the little mechanical poro was wound, and released, to skitter about over the surface of the desk, making its way towards him. His brow was furrowed in thought, consideration, though that smile remained on his face. Viktor had always had a soft spot for aimless tinkering, projects with no real end goal, other than simply functioning. Toys, as most would call them.

“It is… creative, Professor.” he told him, genuinely, golden eyes flickering up from the toy. He could tell that it had been created out of what materials Heimerdinger had on hand, and that fact alone impressed him. Improvisation was an invaluable skill for an inventor to have, “Though, I must admit, I, eh… struggle to see the correlation.”

Placing the papers down onto the desk, steady, lithe fingers picked the delicate contraption up, and held it at eye-level, turning it in the light. Keen eyes examined it closely as he spoke, “You see, I have noticed an intriguing pattern in one of your student’s submitted works. I cannot deny his technical knowledge, but his work is simply… rigid. It lacks individuality, originality.” the fingers of his right hand tapped the head of his cane in a pattern, “Have you noticed that each time a physical project is assigned, he has turned in an exact replica of one of the figures in your textbook? I believe his lack of inventiveness to be hindering his progress.”

Cecil beamed at his young assistant, perking up with delight. “This is precisely the trend I have noticed! You have a professor’s eye. That will come in handy later, my boy!” And in a joking manner, he added as an aside, “Perhaps I should see what comes of you teaching my class someday soon, hm?”

He pulled the exams in front of himself, then, in place of where the toy had been, and gave the one test in question a cursory glance. “For now, though, allow us to focus on the first matter of business. You are absolutely right in your assessment. The student is correct, and that is important. But where there are facts, there should also be the application of them. Our student here has only applied these facts to things that have already been created!”

Tapping the homework assignments which he’d been reviewing, he gave a soft sigh. “I’ve noticed the same thing in these, and not just with one student, but a few. It’s not necessarily a majority of our students—most of them are quite creative individuals—one must be in order to earn a place here— but it’s enough of a trend to concern me.”

Eyes flicking to the little mechanical poro in Viktor’s hands, Cecil gave a weary glance at the whimsy of the thing. “Be honest with me, Viktor. Have I not taught the importance of innovation enough? After all, that is what you’re holding—the fruition of an impromptu attempt to remind myself that I can create simply to create.” He shook his head. “I fear I have not passed this lesson along quite as effectively as I’d have liked, and I worry that the reason lies in that I may have been neglecting it myself.”

As the Professor spoke, Viktor grew quiet, regarding the yordle with a touch of concern, but overall contemplation. Heimderdinger had never appeared to him as the type to have such doubts, especially in himself. But, he supposed it was natural for any creative mind, to relentlessly pick themselves apart. One’s own worst critic was oneself, after all. Viktor placed the little toy back down on the desk, gaze flickering over it for a moment, before returning to the Dean.

“I believe you would know that better than I, Professor.” he told him, expression neutral, though there was a softness in his eyes, “Mm, maybe you’ve answered your own question.”

Placing his free hand into his pocket, Viktor begins a leisurely walk, passing the yordle and approaching one of the many bookshelves, though he chooses no text. Simply shifts his eyes over them, as if perusing, “Do you know what I do, in my free time?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer, “I tinker. I create. Not to fulfill a purpose, but, as you’ve said; simply because I can.”

The man stops, picks up a half-finished component from one of the shelves, looking it over idly, “It helps me to focus my thoughts. To relieve my stress. To remind myself that creation should not be limited by what we’ve been told, but by what he can imagine.” Viktor pauses a moment to let that sink in, before turning to address Cecil properly.

(( Starter for @hextechdreamed))

It was Progress Day and everything had gone to plan…at first.

The problem with favouring theatrics was that it invited an audience. That alone wasn’t always an issue, but when the crowd was expecting an attack and had their own plans to tackle the threat, it added an extra layer of challenge.

It was swiftly apparent that neither party had really expected an arrest to be made. With Topsiders squabbling about where to put the girl, Jinx vacillated between mild cooperation and sudden bouts of ferocious resistance. They’d taken her guns, the grenades, just about everything she kept on her person bar the clothes on her back. A precaution, perhaps, but it wasn’t the end of the world. They hadn’t taken everything.

The cell was little more than a cage, stripped bare of anything that could be fashioned into something. The confinement and solitude would have been enough to break her had the circumstances been ever so slightly different. But it wasn’t a prison cell- not when she had something to bargain with- something they wanted. It was this knowledge that had Jinx nonchalant as she engaged with the enforcers that tried questioning her. She ignored some, pretended to play along for others and elected to make her own entertainment out of the spectacle she was still managing to cause behind bars.

It was when conducting a routine check on their latest prisoner that the cause for her casual air became apparent. A report was relayed to the relevant persons that their prisoner was laying on her front on the cell floor with a hex stone approximately two inches from her face. Occasionally she would blow on it, sending it rolling a couple of inches further from her nose.

What was the point in trying to escape when you could easily do so if you wanted? Why run from the birthplace of all the fancy tech? Jinx had decided to wait them out, just to see what her patience would be rewarded with.

It wasn’t long before there were more footsteps. Another set of enforcers trying to haggle for her prize, no doubt. Piercing blue eyes lifted from where Jinx was comfortably sprawled on the floor, both feet swaying blithely in the air.

This one didn’t have a uniform.

Jinx narrowed her eyes, fixing the man with an appraising look.

“Leeeet me guess.” Jinx drawled, planting her index finger on top of the gem and proceeding to roll it around.

Their first choice would have been Jayce, of course. Viktor knew this before they had unceremoniously informed him of such a fact. But ‘Councilor Talis’ was far too busy to take a trip to Stillwater, and they needed someone with knowledge on how the stolen gemstone functioned. Thus, the second half of the Hextech operation would have to suffice. Besides, they had said, Viktor was a Zaunite himself, wasn’t he? Maybe he could talk some sense into the Undercity criminal.

The footsteps that echoed down the dark halls of the prison were unlike those of the Enforcers; uneven, shuffling, slightly metallic, and accompanied by a distinct clink. A lithe man dressed in average Piltovian garb came into view, leaning on the crutch tucked under his left arm. He wore a neutral expression on sharp features, golden eyes just as piercing as those blue. Viktor’s gaze examined the woman before him, analyzing, calculating, but never wavering. To an outsider, he looked perhaps uninterested. On the contrary.

“Perceptive. Eh, though you can hardly blame me. It does belong to my colleague and I, after all.”

Viktor watched that stone closely, watched as the prisoner rolled it under the pad of her finger. It was a good thing, he thought, that this was the stabilized version of the thing. One wrong move with one of their more volatile predecessors, and this cell would become a gravesite for the both of them.

{⚙️}: Viktor watches with interest as Jayce begins his scrawl across the board. He noted how the man’s penmanship always got a little messier, when he was tired. It had been so difficult to read those parts of his notes, written in a frenzy in the middle of the night, but now? Now, Jayce’s handwriting was as distinct to Viktor as a newspaper’s ink. He had studied it quite extensively, after all. Most of their reference material was written in it.

“Mm, perhaps you are looking at it from the wrong angle.” he says, placing his cane back onto the ground as he approached, never taking his eyes off of the book in his hand. He knew this laboratory’s layout by heart, now, and could most likely walk it with his eyes closed, “Perhaps, instead of attempting to locate what you believe is missing, you must look into what you have already been given.”

It was Viktor’s turn to pick up a piece of chalk, after setting his cane to lean against the wall next to him. He began to go over Jayce’s marks with his own, his penmanship neat and precise. He took aspects from different equations, integrating them into new ones, took information from runes and data from previous tests, flipping through the notes all the while. In the end, he came out with a solution, tapping the board with his chalk, before taking a single, careful step back.

“There.” he said, gesturing to the writing, a light, proud smile on his face, “As I said.”

Admittedly, Viktor had not been so happy in a long time. Perhaps he never had been. He had spent his childhood alone, alienated from his peers because of circumstances beyond his control. Been betrayed by a man he had thought to be his friend, a man who hurt an animal Viktor had come to love. Viktor had grown up this way, had been disregarded by Zaun, had to work tirelessly to get someone to accept his work. The only moment that could possibly rival how he felt now, was when he had first been invited to Piltover by Professor Padidly, but, in the end, those memories had been soured by the Professor’s betrayal.

Now? He had a laboratory, he had a purpose, he had a clear way forward. A way to finally help people, improve lives, like he so desperately wanted to. And he had a friend, a real friend, for the first time in his life. One that treated him like a person, like he was worth something, worth listening to. Took his word into account, freely told him how much he valued him. Jayce was like no one Viktor had ever met before. He had grown slowly accustomed to those friendly, reassuring touches; a hand on his shoulder, a palm against the small of his back. It had been such a foreign concept to him in the beginning. His muscles used to tense, he used to look at Jayce with a hint of uncertainty. But now, he found himself looking forward to it, found it calmed him, grounded him. A single, friendly gesture reminded him of how comfortable he was, here. With Jayce at his side. This was where he was meant to be.

Pursing his lips and nodding, Jayce stepped back and allowed Viktor to work. It was always a delight to see the man throw an equation together. He moved with such alacrity, as if every single stroke was joyous to him. Jayce envied Viktor, in a way—the man worked as if every single day was his last. He wanted to capture that energy and bottle it. If they needed funding, they could figure out how to do that and live like kings! The thought made him smile.

“Oh… shit,” exclaimed Jayce, voice low. Viktor had moved some runes here and made the numbers absolutely dance. “I never—using the runes that way… I mean I was—I was looking at it like… oh, but this.”

His words became disjointed, a hurricane of audible sounds that were intelligible, but didn’t make much sense the way he was stringing them, side-by-side. Viktor would understand, he knew, and so he didn’t bother stopping to try and justify or explain himself. The ease of their work was due in large part to the fact that they did not seem to need to communicate the small things; those, the leaps of logic and intuition, were simply understood to be part of the reality they had constructed for themselves in this laboratory.

Jayce moved toward the board, as if getting closer would make the solution even clearer. In truth, he just craved the proximity to his friend. Laying a big hand on his shoulder, he squeezed lightly. “We’re one step closer,” he said after a few moments, allowing his hand to slip to its comfortable spot on Viktor’s lower back. That part of him felt almost made for a hand—for his hand, he’d thought many times—and cradled it well, without the interference of Viktor’s brace.

A light, prideful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his partner seemed to stumble over his words. Viktor knew well that he had impressed the man, had done good work, as he always seemed to do. He couldn’t get enough of Jayce’s reactions, the way he seemed so enthralled by the smaller scientist’s effort. It felt... validating, in a way that Viktor couldn’t fully describe.

There’s that hand on his shoulder, and the inventor glances up at his partner, his demeanor, and expression, seeming to soften under Jayce’s touch. His smile morphed from pride to warmth, and he placed the chalk down, closed the notebook, focused on how that palm felt, sliding down to settle in the small of his back. It was meant to be there, Viktor seemed to agree.

“Doesn’t it?” he replies, eyes traveling slowly up to the board, over the solved equations. One step closer, indeed. Viktor could picture it, now, their work reaching its completion. Jayce’s life’s work. How good it would feel, how much it could do to help others. The Undercity.

Vi surprisingly didn't notice the man approach them, her eyes were glued on her project. They had gotten themself into a fight about an hour ago, injuring their leg, to the point the pain was all too much. But knowing her, theyd definetly need to use it. So she followed Vanders old technique of trying to reinforce an injured limb, so even if she couldn't walk on it, her leg would still be useful if someone decided to attack her.

At this point though, the steel and cloth she had attempted to use, looked nothing like they had hoped, even a simple brace would do the job. So this man's offer was like music to their ears.

She looked up their blue eyes looking into his, then assesing the rest of him. He didn't seem like he was looking for a fight. But why would he offer her help. Did he want something? Money? What.. people they didn't just help her for no reason. She sat on the step pondering before finally selecting their words.

Games... maybe? Maybe Vi could hide out at the arcade for a while, just to rest from her injuries. The Firelights? No, Vi wouldn't risk letting anyone know about the sanctuary.

"Viktor?" She mumbled barely audible breathing was beginning to grow even. Nodding weakly at his comment and taking a deep breath.

“You’re right, I don’t.” he says bluntly, “But I’ll bring you there, for now.”

Viktor kept his word, heading off towards the old arcade. He believed he knew what she was talking about, though he had never visited it, himself. He had passed it a good few times in his life, on his way between Zaun’s many facilities, and his old lab on Emberflit Alley. While he may not have lived in the Undercity for many years now, he remembered the place well. It was home, after all.

Their progress was slow, and although Viktor had never been capable of walking quickly, he paid extra attention to their speed, and his movements, attempting to keep from jostling Vi too much as they went. Golden eyes continuously glanced back towards her, checking on their wellbeing, assessing whether or not they needed to stop and rest. The duo did this only once, about halfway, though Viktor didn’t prompt her. Instead, he simply told them that he needed a moment, hoping to save them a little pride. If he could offer her a moment of rest without calling attention to her condition, so be it.

Once they reached the aforementioned building, Viktor brought her inside, closing the door behind them. He surveyed the place, uncertainty in his eyes. Was it safe here? Could they be certain that no one would find her? He lead her over to a chair, onto which he carefully eased them down, before taking a step back.

𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐢𝐬  𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬  𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡,  𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐚  𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭  𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞  𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞  𝐢𝐭  𝐢𝐬  𝐚  𝐭𝐨𝐲  𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐢𝐭  𝐭𝐨  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.  it  shatters  into  a  million  pieces,  but  it  hardly  phases  the  loose  cannon.  “  now  ..  what  should  i  play  with  next,  fishbones  ?  ”  she  pulls  out  her  gun,  moving  the  rocket  launcher’s  mouth  with  her  speech.  “  uh  !!  let’s  not  touch  anything  jinx  !  you  might  hurt  somebody  or  yourself  !  how  about  we  go  outside  and  start  over  !  it’s  never  too  la-  ”  but  the  gun  is  thrown  in  the  nearest  trash  bin,  sure  to  fish  it  out  later.  “  MAYBE  YOU  NEED  TO  LEARN  WHAT  IT  MEANS  TO  SHUT  UP  !  ”  she  shouts,  grumbling  and  tensing  up  her  shoulder’s  before  sauntering  on.  “  i’ll  replace  that  JERK  in  the  morning  !  YOU  HEAR  THAT  YOU  STUPID  DUMB  ROCKET  LAUNCHER  ?  YOUUUUU’RE  OUT  !  ”  but  she  is  in  the  presence  of  another  who  had  entered  the  premises  possibly  in  the  time  she  had  been  rambling  on.  “  ohhh  boy,  whaddya  know  !  are  you  one  of  those  fancy  schmancy  scientist  guys  ?!  can  i  borrow  one  of  those  lab  coats  ?!  it’s  SOOO  cool  !  ”

The inventor had stepped closer, following the sound, only to find himself face-to-face with the source of the voice. He freezes, his grip tightening around the handle of his crutch, though he doesn’t look as outwardly startled as he feels.