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Water had never been clean in the Undercity, still, it never turned a shade of red. But that night Silco only saw the maroon color flow in the dirt, his brother’s shadow looking down on him from the bloody cloud. Death’s embrace was cold and brute, nothing like the young boy had imagined all those years ago. It was supposed to be relieving, finally free from the shackles Topside had placed on them. But with the rough palm he came to know so well wrapped around his neck and the water filled his lungs, Silco could only think about how Death was so similar to the cruelty of Zaun. Kindred would’ve got to him were it not for one last touch towards life, and it so happened that Vander kept his knife in the same place that Silco knew about. 

Though he escaped death that night, the days that came weren’t much easier. No matter how much he tried to keep himself together, Silco cried himself to sleep an uncountable amount of times; or rather cried until he passed out from the pain. The first few hours with his newly found wound were bearable, the adrenaline from running to find a hiding spot keeping him on his feet. But once it passed, there was nothing but agony left for Silco. He tended to the cut as much as he could, but with no medicine in sight, the chemicals from the river started withering his skin, eating through his flesh. Some nights he physically had to restrain himself to not scratch the wound, to not relieve himself from some of the pain. And yet his state just got worse by the days. The infection was spreading fast and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. For once in his life, Silco felt defeated, like there was no option for him to survive. He was always meant to die in a hole like a dirty rat. 

And then an arm reached for him, a doctor from an unknown origin. He had heard tales of this scientist, living somewhere hidden from the rest of the world after it cast him aside. The hand extended to him was like the light on the end of a tunnel, he took it with little hesitation; Silco was a dead man walking anyway. The scientist gave him an offer, Silco would let him experiment on his damaged eye, and in turn he would try to find a way to save his life. Being experimented on wasn’t something Silco wished to do but if there was a chance to keep on going, to live long enough to liberate Zaun, he was willing to take it. 

The doctor led him to his lab, a place smelling like decay. There was a purple glow emitting from the cave they entered and Silco wandered over curiously. A large creature stood above him, with tubes hanging out its sides. It was a faint color of white and washed out purple. Whatever it once was, it appeared to barely be alive. The young man had never seen such a being before and for a moment a tinge of fear ran through his body. He slowly turned around just enough to catch a glimpse of the doctor from the corner of his eye. 

“That is Rio.” the doctor said, back turned to Silco. 

Silco watched him intensely as the doctor set his tools down on a far away table. He didn’t trust him, but there was no other choice he could take, so he strode closer to him, begrudgingly. But as he took slow and calculated steps, he saw a mirror not too far from him. Silco stopped, turning to face the mirror. His damaged eye was wrapped in dirty cloth that he had ripped from his own shirt after making his escape. It was true that he hadn't yet seen just what his brother had caused, as there never was a chance to admire himself on any surface. 

With slightly shaking hands, Silco reached for the cloth and began ripping it from his face. It was dried to his damaged skin, tearing up the somewhat closing wound. He whimpered as he pulled it further and further, biting down so hard one would think his jaw should break. With his other hand he reached to steady the shaking arm that still maneuvered around the bloody cloth. After a long time of suffering, he finally ripped it off with a yelp. Blood flowed down his face from the cut but his damaged face was finally revealed. His skin was starting to blacken with cracks gracing the damaged surface. As he pulled up his swollen eyelid, he caught a glimpse of darkening sclera that blended into the color of his scar. A sob escaped him as he finally let go of his eyelid, shaking from the pain. 

“Are you ready, then?” the doctor spoke to him again. 

Silco turned to him with tears gracing one side of his face, while blood graced the other. His nod was barely noticeable but the doctor understood it well. Silco was led to a table with leather straps on its sides; two for his legs, two for his arms and one to hold his head down. The young man laid down with furrowed brows as the doctor strapped him to the surface. He tried to raise one of his hands but he was indeed held in place well enough. The doctor left to grab one of his tools, and Silco followed his every movement with his good eye. 

A question escaped his mouth before he could stop himself. “What’s your name?”

The doctor stopped for a moment, his head slightly turning towards Silco, before he returned his attention to his tools. For a moment he thought the doctor wouldn’t answer but after a couple seconds he spoke. 

“Call me Singed.” he grabbed a knife as he said so.

The doctor walked back to the strapped down Silco, who was starting to get fidgety on the table. He was afraid to be unable to stop anything that would happen to him from this point on. And soon his fears would turn real. Singed grabbed his face with one hand, forcing his swollen eyelid to open, while he held the knife in his other hand. 

“For further reference,” he began, knife inching closer to Silco’s eye “remember that you had agreed to this willingly.”

Without a warning the doctor began cutting at his eyelid. Silco screamed as he tried to wiggle out of his reach. But the straps and the doctor’s hand had a firm grip on him. Singed moved the knife through the damaged skin like it was butter, and chopped off parts of it to get to the boy’s eye. Silco’s fingers tried gripping onto the doctor’s clothes, desperately trying to make him stop. 

Upon looking up at the doctor, the light above his head sort of giving him a halo, Silco could only see Vander. It was him who held the knife against his face, him who made the cuts, and him who kept him in place. Silco could almost hear his voice beaming at him with cocky words, mocking his cries for help. His brother just looked down on him with cold eyes ready for murder. No one was around, no one could help Silco. 

“VANDER!” he screamed in agony. 

Was it out of desperation for him to stop, or was his brain still aware who really stood above him, making him yell for the only person who ever brought him comfort, Silco couldn’t tell. Only thing he knew was that the cutting stopped, his eyelid completely removed via the doctor's knife. Silco wiggled around, his lips trembling with fear as his eyes followed the piece of flesh in Singed hands. The doctor walked back to his own table to inspect the removed skin.

For minutes Silco only heard the sounds of his own gasps for air and whimpers from the maddening pain he felt. His wound stung as his tears covered it but he couldn’t even wipe them down because of the restraints. Soon his power began to leave him, and his attempts to escape stopped. Now he just lied on the table with an open mouth, looking at the bright ceiling. His lips were cracked from thirst as he couldn’t even bring himself to drink water in the following days of the drowning. 

Before Silco could slip into unconsciousness though, the doctor walked back to him, a scalpel in hand. Silco’s eyes drifted to the tool, and a desperate cry escaped from his throat, yet no words left his mouth. He couldn’t speak anymore; he was too tired. 

That didn’t stop Singed though, as he brought his scalpel down to the young man’s damaged skin and began cutting parts of it off his face. Silco’s fists clenched again as he desperately tried to form words but all he was left with were unintelligible, cracking noises. One small part of his skin was removed, then another and soon Silco lost his consciousness from it all. 

Everything was dark and cold, then spots of red appeared around him. This was different from drowning. From the lack of oxygen he lost part of his consciousness as well, but he felt at peace. Now all he knew was uncertainty, and fear. He was a fool for going into this willingly - for agreeing to the doctor’s terms. 

He couldn’t rest for long though, as he was awoken by a shock to his chest. Silco’s eye opened wide, and he gasped for air. The boy looked around, trying to search for the danger on instinct, but all he found was a nonchalant Singed looking down at him. 

“The experiment can only go on with the patient still at full consciousness,” he explained “or we may not come to a correct conclusion.”

Silco opened his mouth but only anguished cries came from him. He was unable to form a single word. 

“Don’t move.” was the last thing Singed said before raising a syringe to Silco’s face.

The young man’s pupils shrunk even further at the sight, trying to move away from it. But the doctor grabbed his face firmly once again and moved the syringe to his damaged flesh. A shiny purple substance was injected into him, that felt as if one thousand knives had just attacked his body. Silco screamed out in agony multiple times, his head violently trying to rip out of the hold. 

His mouth filled with saliva as he spit it all over the place in his frenzy. The table was shaking around with all his movements. He yelled unintelligible words at the doctor, his voice cracking from the sheer power. And then it all stopped in a matter of seconds. It was as if time itself had stopped after the previous attack. Silco’s eyes tried to focus back on the doctor, who was mumbling to himself. 

“Wha-t… did y-ou… do?” Silco managed to whisper.

Singed turned to look at him. “Rio has remarkable abilities, one of which you have experienced.”

The boy tried to talk again but his power had left him. 

“Curious, it has drained you.” the doctor hummed. “You should count yourself a young man full of luck. After all, you are my first subject who has survived the process.” 

“Y-ou sai-d…” he started but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“One must wonder if it is because your blood is already tainted by toxins.” 

Singed left Silco again. He walked over to his own table to view the samples of skin he had cut off of Silco. There was a moment of silence between them, only being broken from the occasional cries coming from Silco. The pain was the same as before, but the removed eyelid bothered him less now. Perhaps what the doctor did truly helped him in a way or another. 

“Don’t you worry,” Singed turned back to him, “the experiment must survive. You are on the next step for success, boy.”