#abysmal-viktor

Silco sat at his desk, a cigar with thick plumes rising from its foot in one hand, and a silver fountain pen in the other. He took a puff from the rolled tobacco before bringing the same hand to his temple, and as he turned a page over in his daybook, he heard a light knock on the door. Soon after, the creak of its hinges stirred, followed by distinct, careful footsteps.

“Evening.” 

The Chembaron continued his writing without looking up, responding only with a quiet sigh. From the sound of his guest’s mismatched steps, he didn’t even have to presume; there was only one person who could bypass Silco’s guards to his office with such a distinct gait.

Silco circled a few numbers down the list as he spoke, “What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy.”

When Silco could hear his footsteps come closer, and a careful palm trace the oakwood of his desk, his brow twitched. He veered his eyes to the man standing before him. Chocolate hair reaching just below the end of his jaw, amber eyes grazing over seafoam and magma, both; and distinct beauty marks that would likely succeed in beckoning anyone they called. Viktor smiled easily, as Silco only studied him with an incurious, slightly irritable, brow. The young Zaunite was smart, Silco could give him that much. But he wasn’t sure if the wiles that got Viktor this far in life made him like a fox, or more like a weasel.

“What did you need?” Silco said evenly. He set the fountain pen down, before crossing a leg over the other and leaning back in his chair.

Viktor straightened again, seemingly satisfied with the attention he’d managed to pull from him. He perused the office with an air that only one other person could likely have the privilege to. Despite the younger man’s blatant rudeness, there was something about him that tempered Silco’s impatience.

“Just being dutiful. I wanted to report your latest inland shipment. It’s near time for the monthly report, and I figured you’d want that information in your log.”

Viktor looked at Silco from the corner of his eye, watching him take an exaggerated drag from his cigar, before hearing a quiet breath leave his lungs. There was something about getting under Silco’s skin that thrilled Viktor. He wasn’t entirely sure why–the man gave no indication he was interested in his underling at all. But it felt like a high he always found himself slinking to, whenever he had the chance.

Silco leaned forward to continue his work before eventually responding,

“Is there a reason you came to me for this, and not one of my subordinates? I don’t typically speak with couriers in this business.”

Viktor’s gaze turned upward on instinct, finding the rafters above their heads empty.

“I wanted to be thorough,” Viktor hummed casually; too casually for the environment. Every time Viktor greeted Silco, the older Zaunite always spoke as if they’d never met before. It was obvious to Viktor that the man didn’t like him. He made his way back to the door, cozying himself at the nook between the office’s entrance and the adjacent bookshelf. To the Chembaron’s chagrin, he pulled out a tome at random, and opened it. As he fingered through the atlas comfortably, he murmured something almost as an afterthought,

“I’d wager If you assigned more couriers at the junctions of Entresol’s main streets, you’d get better foot traffic. You certainly have enough men for it.” 

Silco’s pen stilled before his eyes looked over to Viktor again. The man faced away from him, one hand still holding the book, while the other unconsciously met his hip. He pressed into his braced leg reflexively. After a moment, Silco shook his head quietly, trying to return to focus on his reports once again. He hoped the silence would urge Viktor to just leave; it would be less of a headache than having to explain to Jinx why her friend’s blood was on the ground.

“I haven’t seen that sheriff around here lately. I heard talks that there’s been a discrepancy in your revenue, perhaps Marcus had something to–” Viktor paused when he heard Silco’s daybook close abruptly. The rolling of dampened wheels could be heard on the hardwood floor, before he heard his methodical footsteps near.

Viktor closed the atlas and turned his way, when Silco stepped in front of him, slender fingers taking the book and slipping it away from his hand. The man's expression was flat, but something in his eyes was seething. And it had taken a degree or two for Viktor to look up and meet his gaze. He stood there silently, while the Chembaron only studied him.

Silco couldn’t understand what Jinx saw in the man. Walking into his office as he pleased. And what vexed him even more was that Viktor was aware of what he was doing. Every step into his office; every swipe of a cigar, was an insult to him, and they both knew Viktor relished in it. Silco leaned forward close to his ear, before his lips parted slowly,

“The only reason you still have your tongue, and your cock, is because for some bizarre reason that I can’t quite understand, my daughter is fond of you.” 

He stepped back before taking another puff from his cigar, eyes never leaving Viktor’s gaze.

“Now get out. You’re in my way.”

The demand was almost enough for Viktor’s steeled demeanor to falter. But despite keeping a steady face, he still found himself with a slightly hitched breath. Viktor couldn’t help but stare back for a brief moment, before he averted his gaze and half-smiled,

“Certainly.” Viktor stepped out of Silco’s office before him. He made his way down The Last Drop’s staircase while he saw the baron walk in the other direction. He pulled a Shimmer-laced cigarette from a case in his breast pocket before lighting the tip.

When his feet finally met the dirt floor of Entresol’s street outside the pub, he took a deep drag in, and exhaled. He blew the steady stream of smoke to meet with Zaun’s Gray, and sighed before tilting his head to look at the black sky.

After struggling for a few moments with the lock, and with a heavy buzz, Jayce walked through the door of his loft. He didn't even bother to turn on his kitchen light as he threw his coat over the chair, reaching towards the cupboard for a glass of water.

The innovator's competition had run long that evening, and despite Mel's usually successful persuasion, he decided to call it a night. He wasn't sure why he still kept going to them. He actually wasn't sure how he found himself becoming the poster child for Piltover, at all. Sometimes he felt more like a celebrity than an actual scientist.

When he got to his bedroom, he pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor, preparing himself for bed. As he lifted the glass of water to take a sip, he felt a cool draft waft through the air. He froze, eyes widening, when he noticed the balcony door ajar. He had sworn he locked it. He looked around the room. It was dark inside, and quiet.

He carefully walked up to the glass pane, pushing it open just a bit, to take a peek outside. When he saw no one, he sighed quietly before shutting it closed again. The draft must have just forced it open, or something.

Jayce took a step back, but startled with a quick gasp when he felt something sharp behind him. The glass of water in his hand dropped to the floor, shattering on impact, while the tip of Viktor's dagger prodded gently at his spine.

"No turning around, golden boy. Unless you want to find yourself crippled." A prick on Jayce's skin beaded before dripping down his back, while the Zaunite evened his tone. This was certainly a headache Viktor did not sign up for. Jayce could hear his distinct, thick voice behind him as he spoke. But he couldn't pinpoint where the accent was from. He parted his lips,

"Th-that's fine. Please, just let me go," he said, nearly breathless. His head spun as he tried to keep himself steady. He was being robbed, is that what was happening? Was he going to die tonight? Gods, he should have just listened to Mel and stayed at the gala.

"Close your eyes and keep your head forward."

Jayce closed his eyes. Soon enough, he could feel a hand on his shoulder before he was nudged forward forcefully. From the size of his palm, Jayce could tell that his assailant was smaller than him. Much smaller. He could probably take him down. But there was a bite to Viktor's voice that he didn't want to take a chance on. And he could still feel the steel edge of his knife pressed carefully to the vertebrae on his back. At that moment, Jayce could only imagine the worst.

"I have nothing of value here, I promise."

Viktor scoffed. Was Jayce lying, or just delusional?

"I'd beg to differ," he responded dryly.

As he continued forward, something smooth hit the side of Jayce's foot. When his eyes petered down, he could see the unmistakable glow of one of his Hextech gems, rolling just past his heel. Jayce stopped walking and grew rigid. Of all the things he didn't care to be ransacked, or stolen, or thrown away, that was one he would never risk being taken from him again.

The last time his loft was broken into, he had nearly lost his titles and his ownership of Hextech. His life’s work. Jayce was panicked, and at that point, only pure adrenaline coursed through his veins. He acted faster than he could think—against his better judgement.

When he turned around to grab Viktor by the arm, Viktor's eyes widened in shock. And before he even knew it, the Zaunite lunged forward on instinct. Everything happened so fast. The next thing Viktor saw was Jayce falling to the floor. He could see the scientist on the ground, teeth gritted, and a hand clutching at his side. And when Viktor looked down at his own hand, his dagger was lined with blood. He cursed in frustration. Was the man of progress really going to die by his hand? He could only think of the consequences.

Viktor shook his head with a rising breath and concentrated eyes, before kneeling down next to Jayce, and turning him on his back. The man groaned, before Viktor moved his hand aside.

"Ty jsi blázen," he muttered under a low breath.

Viktor scrambled for a vial in his pack, injecting a dose of Shimmer into the wound at Jayce's side without hesitation.

Jayce retched loud from the sharp, electric pain shooting through his nerves, as the drug coursed through his system. A bright magenta flickered in his irises for just a moment before they soon dissipated. Viktor’s eyes studied his wound thoroughly. And when he finally saw it begin to close, he sighed in an exhausted relief. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood, breath slightly heavy. When Jayce opened his eyes again, he looked up through the haze. He couldn’t make out much more than a dark, shadowy figure; only distinct and reflective golden eyes.

Viktor looked down at him, studying him with a stern brow. His voice was neither apologetic nor threatening, but rather disappointed, with a nearly imperceptible reprimanding air.

"You should have just kept your eyes forward."

Before Jayce knew it, Viktor was already on his way out through the balcony doors. Jayce’s gaze followed the man's silhouette as long as he could. But his eyelids soon grew heavy, and he eventually passed out.

-> pt. 1

Jayce stirred quietly before opening his eyes. A sliver of light casted through the curtains, brighter than it was before he had fallen asleep. Living in Stillwater for so many years, it didn’t take long to notice that the light hardly reached the city below Piltover. Zaun’s environment truly was shrouded in darkness. As he sat up he expected Viktor to be awake, but he was surprised to see the man still asleep on the couch.

He stepped out of the bed and stretched before walking over to him slowly. For a sofa it did look comfortable, but it was still obviously cramped. He studied the Zaunite quietly. Viktor’s face was serene. No wry smile or darkened eyes. No lies just behind those lips. He almost looked like a different person entirely.

Hazel eyes traced down to his leg brace, then noticed his shirt slightly hiked up, milky skin peeking just underneath. The jut of his hip bone kissed his waistband and a smattering of moles sprinkled over the smooth skin. He paused when he noticed the edge of a backbrace hugging Viktor’s frame. He almost felt guilty for taking the bed instead of him. When he looked back up, he saw the man awake. Eyes open under drooped lids, warm golden pools looking back at him quietly.

“How long were you awake?” Jayce asked, slightly surprised.

“Did you have plans to subdue me in my sleep? I don’t want to disappoint you, but I would have found it rather exciting.”

Jayce stared at him for a moment before letting a sigh out through his nose,

“Something is seriously wrong with you.” 

Viktor grinned, looking over to see him pacing back to the bed. He watched curiously as the man began to fix the sheets. Perhaps he was used to waking up so early and keeping his cell tidy. When Viktor stood, he winced from a crick in his back. Annoying. He brushed his fingers through his hair as Jayce spoke.

“Didn’t think you could look so peaceful.”

Viktor straightened his clothes with a wry smile,

“Do I not seem that way? I assure you, I am normally a calm man. My sudden incursion last night was rare. Unlike you, I’m not always so eager to pick a fight,” he jabbed.

“You’re calm, sure. But it feels like a mask. I’ve only seen you unguarded twice since we met. When you were on top of me last night,” He looked at Jayce curiously before he continued “And just now, when you were sleeping.”

The young Zaunite paused as his curiosity made way for a flat brow. A quiet moment passed while Viktor only watched him in silence. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt irritable. He parted his lips,

“I will be stepping out briefly. Wait here for me, will you?”

Jayce hitched a brow.

“You’re not afraid I’m going to run off?” He joked. He watched the Zaunite wave him off before stepping out the door.

Viktor didn’t stray too far from the room, leaning next to an open window at the end of the hall. He lit a cigarette, laced with an oil that shone purple in Zaun’s morning light. His leg ached. He took a drag with a slightly pinched brow and exhaled slowly. He didn’t mention it to Jayce yet, but he had been talking in his sleep.

Jayce waited for Viktor to return. Even though he made the joke, he was tempted to step out and just leave. Despite the bizarre situation he found himself in, he couldn’t help but stay. If running one errand for the stranger secured his freedom, he would take the risk for the reward. He drew open the curtain window and caught his eye on the activity teeming below. They were a few floors above the ground. He’d only gone to the Undercity a handful of times in the past, and the last was just before he was arrested. 

“I imagine you didn’t sleep very well last night.”

He shook out of his slight daze. He had returned, but Jayce couldn’t even remember hearing the door open. He responded,

“Why do you say that?”

When Viktor stepped comfortably next to him to peek through the window, Jayce began to realize that the man had no regard for personal space. He could smell the burnt tobacco on him. As he turned, the silhouette of Viktor’s profile caught his attention. Deepset eyes with a pronounced nose, and those lips that he couldn’t seem to take his gaze off of. A mole sat just above his lip, and he had the instinct to graze a thumb over it.

“Were you aware that you talk in your sleep?”

Jayce raised his brows. When he set his hand on the window sill, Viktor looked down to watch it slightly flex.

“What was I saying.”

The young Zaunite remained quiet. In truth, Viktor couldn’t make out much of his words. But when he had approached the man out of curiosity the night before, there was a phrase that was clear enough to distinguish. A soft phrase repeated every now and then, with an air of something solemn:

I’m sorry.

“‘Couldn’t say.”

Jayce huffed, half-smiling.

“I get the feeling you say that a lot. You ‘couldn’t say’ or you just won’t? You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Viktor frowned.

“Don’t be so cheeky. It doesn’t suit you.”

He stepped away from the window and nudged past him with an elbow. When Viktor heard him chuckle, he paused. He didn’t know if it was just the quiet calm of the morning, or the fact that both men were still rousing from their sleep, but something had dampened the tension between them. And the young Zaunite had to admit it was much nicer compared to the headache of questions and apprehension the night before.

“You didn’t have anything to eat yesterday, and I figure you’re hungry.” Viktor said, gesturing for him to follow. As they made their way down the hostel’s staircase, Jayce noticed the man slowing down. Viktor leaned heavily on the stair’s railing. And even though the activity seemed like a struggle for him, he said nothing as they continued. 

They eventually arrived on the ground floor. Just as they got to the entrance, through the mess of gray decor and guests, something bright stood out from the muted colors. A young girl with tattoos and long cobalt braids talked with high energy to some of the patrons, as Jayce stared at her for a moment. He didn’t know why, but the girl looked familiar somehow. His thoughts were interrupted by a squeeze on his arm. Viktor spoke,

“There’re vendors in town, farther into the heart of the city. I’m sure we could manage something that would suit your tastes,” he said with a smile. The Zaunite hooked an arm around his elbow and pulled him forward. And in Jayce’s distraction, he let himself be dragged through the door without complaint.