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Though Viktor lived in Piltover, it was no secret every inch of his body and soul was that of a child of the Undercity. He had never stopped caring for his homeland, even now that his house was northside, far from everything and everyone he used to know. Through and through, his hopes and dreams had remained the same; he wanted to help the Undercity, to make it more safe, more stable… A better place for people to live a better life in.
Which was probably why he struggled to stay far away from it for too long. Not that it mattered, of course; he was only an assistant, and as remarkable as he was, he still had yet to prove his worth as a scientist. And well, if helping the Undercity was what he wanted… Might as well know what it was like at all times, right?
There was one place that was perfect for that. The one place where all the joys and sorrows were spilled, and the one bar safe enough for Viktor to keep working to his heart’s content in: the Last Drop. He used to be scared of that place, back when he was a shy kid. Now, the building felt a bit like home, somehow. The scientist knew that was pathetic; really, he was now a stranger to both sides of the bridge. Too much of an Undercity stray for Piltover; too much of a lucky genius for the Lanes.
Viktor was of the lonely kind anyway. He had nothing against people, he had just never really had any company, and that didn’t make him too sad; or at least, it didn’t anymore.
Still, Viktor always enjoyed coming down there. Which was why, like pretty much every month, he was here tonight.
The sound of his cane hitting the ground with every step got drowned out by the chatter as soon as he stepped foot in the bar. As he usually did, Viktor ordered a drink; always the same one. The barman — Vander was his name, smiled at him while preparing his refreshment.
“I’m guessing you’re planning on working here again?” he asked while pouring the orange liquid in a glass.
“I am,” Viktor replied simply. He had… never been that good with small talks. The owner didn't seem to mind.
“Well, there’s a lot of folks tonight,” Vander warned before pointing with the straw to an empty table in a corner. “I’d recommend you go over there if you want some quiet.”
“Thank you.”
The inventor paid for his drink and followed Vander’s advice, settling for a nice, quieter corner. To say he didn’t enjoy the bar’s atmosphere would be a lie; though he wasn’t too keen on getting into it himself, Viktor did enjoy sitting back and watching people have their fun.
But he was also a man that didn’t know when to stop working. So he took his notebook out of his bag and started writing — ideas that could help the Undercity, the sick, the elders, the children… anything that came to mind. There had to be something he was good enough to do. There had to be some lives his science could improve!
Viktor’s glass was half empty when he felt it. He was too familiar with it: the feeling of being watched. He didn’t feel that uneasy, though — well, he always did when eyes were set on him, the man wasn’t fond of getting too much attention. The right way to put it was, he didn’t feel unsafe.
So he simply raised his own eyes to see who was there. He couldn’t help it, being both extremely curious and far too aware he couldn’t just ignore the outside world when it came to the Undercity.
He barely had the time to catch a glimpse of blue hair and intrigued eyes before the little person hid from his view.
A tiny smile came to Viktor’s lips. It was no matter. He was the least qualified person on this planet to shut down a child’s curiosity — that was what had led him to the mysterious cave, Rio, Heimerdinger and, ultimately, his own place at the Academy. So when the blue haired kid inevitably came back from behind a pillar, barely a few seconds later, Viktor attempted a smile again.
“It’s okay,” he said in a calm voice, loud enough to be heard over the ambient chatter. “I’m not mad at you.”
That was all it took for the kid to come closer. She was young, definitely no older than ten. Her careful steps made her look a bit clumsy, with some shyness to them, too. It reminded Viktor of his old self.
To be honest, Viktor was not that good with children. He didn’t really know how to act around them, nor did he know what they wanted him to say. Nevertheless, far from him was the intention of pushing them away. He found them endearing — but not to be trusted around his inventions, that was certain.
“What are you doing?” the little girl asked, carefully leaning on the back of the chair next to his.
“I’m just writing some ideas down,” the scientist replied honestly.
"Are you an inventor?”
“You could say that,” he smiled.
“How did you become one?”
Viktor was kind of taken aback by the question. He… didn’t really have an answer to give her. He used to make toys, and had learned a bit with Singed before being found by Heimerdinger and brought to the Academy, where he had learnt more about science in an academic way. When had he stopped being a smart kid, and when had he started being an inventor?
“I… I guess I’ve always been making little inventions,” he simply said.
“They’ve worked since the beginning?”
“No, not always. They failed more often than not, actually.”
“Mine never work,” the little girl sulked.
“Are you an inventor ?” he asked in the same curious tone she did.
“No!” she exclaimed as if caught red handed.
The scientist cocked his head slightly, intrigued. Working on inventions was no reason for shame. If anything, it was a source of pride; the knowledge that, no matter if successful or not, one tried to make something new. Wasn’t it wonderful? But before he could add anything, Viktor heard another voice:
“Powder! We’re waiting for you.”
“Oh— coming!”
And with one last look towards the notebook, the curious eyed child disappeared in the bar, following a white haired kid who gave Viktor a confused look.
— — —
The next time Viktor stopped by the Last Drop, he noticed the barman eyed him a little more carefully, which made Viktor feel a bit uneasy — the man was kind, but definitely not the type of person whose bad side one wanted to be on. Still, Viktor knew he wasn't exactly intimidating himself, so he had no reason to be worried about Vander's wariness. Probably.
The scientist went and sat at the same table as the month before, immediately getting to work. He had had a few ideas; too bad resources were now what he lacked. His ideas were grand, but the man was no wizard. He knew magic couldn’t be created, let alone harnessed. He had to stay down to earth, and true to what he knew best: gears, robotics, and work.
His drink was almost empty when he felt it again. But this time, when Viktor looked above his notebook, he met the now familiar little girl’s blue eyes, and they didn’t shy away. She was nervous, clearly, clinging to her bag like a lifeboat and standing there, not daring to come any closer. But a smile from Viktor was all it took for her to take a few steps towards him.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t I? This place is nice, and I’m used to coming here every month.”
“But you’re from the topside. There are better bars for Pilties.”
“Who told you about where I live?”
The little girl — Powder, from what he had heard when she had left, went wide eyed, suddenly silent again. She looked around nervously, and when she saw nobody being there to back her up, she took a step back, seemingly ready to flee.
“I’m not a ‘Piltie’,” Viktor said before she could. “In fact, I’m from the Undercity myself.”
“You are? But he…”
Viktor raised his eyebrows, curious. Powder, still standing, tried to make herself look tall and crossed her arms.
“I have my reasons to think you are from Piltover. Reliable contacts. They wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Did you have someone follow me around?”
“I didn’t!”
“The Lanes have eyes everywhere!” a new voice said.
Viktor turned his head and saw a little boy next to Powder. The same white haired kid who had called her away the last time they had met, he was pretty sure. The boy seemed… mistrustful, at best. The scientist could understand. Children from the Undercity tended to be wary of topside people. He had once been.
…Maybe he still was. He didn’t quite blend in with the other Academy people. More often than not, they were arrogant, and their ego got in the way of their inventions. That, Viktor thought, was a shame. Human mistakes were the primary stop to life saving creations. A few people were wise, sure, Heimerdinger was. But he was part of the Council, and Viktor was no fool; there was a reason the Lanes were the way they were. Rich people who stuck their heads in the dirt.
Viktor felt for the two kids, and he felt saddened by the way they had to be so cautious at such a young age.
“Well,” he said, “If the Lanes do have eyes everywhere, surely they’ve seen I only live in Piltover, for my job as a scientist and assistant of the dean of the Academy. I was born in the Undercity, and that’s where I grew up.”
“Why should we trust you?” the white haired kid asked, trying to be intimidating.
“You don’t have to.”
Powder looked at Viktor for a second, before turning around to face the boy. He seemed deep in thought for a bit, before shrugging.
“I mean, he’s not an enforcer, and we’re safe here.”
“I agree,” Powder declared.
“I’ll join the others, then, but don’t leave Vander’s sight! We’re still training tonight?”
“Of course!”
And just like that, the little boy was gone, and Powder seemed a little less confident. Still, she didn’t move from where she was. Viktor eyed her for a few seconds before asking:
“Is there anything you wanted to..?”
He didn’t finish his question, not sure how he wanted to do it. “Do?" “Say?" “Ask?" Powder shot one last look behind her before setting her eyes on the scientist.
“Have you ever made an alarm system before?”
“Hmm, no. The Academy was already equipped when I arrived. Why?”
“I want to make one, for me and my friends.”
“Do you need help?”
“No. I’ve thought it through. But, uh… I’d like to show you my ideas, so you can tell me if they suck and I don’t have to look dumb in front of everyone.”
She said that last sentence very quickly, staring at her bag, obviously extremely nervous. Maybe she was scared of ‘looking dumb’ in front of an inventor, too. But Viktor was sure she remembered him saying his childhood inventions had failed most of the time. Really, he had no reason for a harsh judgement. So when Powder raised her eyes, what she saw was not rejection, but a curious gaze.
“Sure,” Viktor agreed with a kind smile.
He grabbed his cane that was leaning on the chair next to his and put it against his own instead to make place for Powder. Visibly surprised and relieved, the kid took the invitation and sat down, putting her bag down on the floor.
“Okay, so… wait. Uh— what’s your name?”
“It’s Viktor.”
“Okay. Mine’s Powder. So, mister Viktor, that’s— that’s what I have.”
Powder took some papers out of her bag and put them on the table. Intrigued, Viktor closed his own notebook, ready to give the young inventor his full attention; wasn’t that exactly the kind of favors his young self would have dreamed of? To think that Viktor was now in a position to be the one to return the service to the next generation of scientists… The idea did light something up inside of Viktor’s golden eyes.
He carefully grabbed one of the papers as Powder stared nervously, anticipately biting her lip. Viktor had the feeling she was trying to read his mind, but he stayed focused; he wanted to give the project his full attention. And so, little by little, he lost sight of the noise around, of the barman watching over from a distance, of the little girl silently begging for his approval.
She really had thought of everything. The button under the bar, the way it would connect all the way to a monkey toy that would activate downstairs and warn whoever was there of an emergency, stopping after a few seconds so as to not catch the attention of anyone coming downstairs… It was ingenious, extremely impressive for the child’s young age. Truly, this was…
“Wonderful,” Viktor commented after a bit.
“Really?” the little girl raised her head, hopeful.
“Really. You have a bright mind and an even brighter future, miss Powder.”
And oh, did Viktor feel like Heimerdinger right now. Powder’s face broke into the biggest smile, and she straightened up on her chair.
“So you think it’s gonna work?”
“Well, you can’t say for certain unless you try, but I’d say your theories all make sense. Actually, I’m having a hard time believing the thing you said last time. How did you put it? That your inventions never work?”
“I don’t know,” Powder shrugged. “I do things that work too, but never the right ones.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to help my family! My toys work, but not the things that could protect us.”
Viktor could understand that. It came with being a scientist; the feeling that no invention was enough, and the need to keep on going further. As an adult, he still had that feeling, maybe even more so than before. Things were never perfect enough, not when his goal was to improve lives. It was hard, sometimes, to follow Heimerdinger's advice about how it was better to go slow and not wander too far in the name of progress.
Truly, this little girl did remind Viktor of himself.
But before he could reply, two drinks were put on the table. Surprised, Viktor raised his eyes and saw Vander.
“I didn’t order any—...”
“Thanks Vander !” Powder exclaimed happily.
“You’re welcome,” the barman smiled at her before looking at Viktor. “It’s on the house.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
As the place’s owner left, Powder grabbed one of the glasses, containing a green drink. Viktor took the other one, noticing it was the very same drink he bought every time he came. The scientist couldn’t help but smile. It was nice knowing the man who built the underground remembered what his customers liked, even when they only came once a month. And clearly, Powder was familiar with that man, so Viktor admitted in a lower voice:
“I noticed that man, Vander, has been watching us for a while. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a potential danger, like your friend.”
“Not a chance,” Powder said confidently. “If he did, you’d already be out of here! No, he wants to make sure I’m not bothering you.”
“Oh.”
“...I’m not bothering you, am I?”
“Of course not. I hope the next time I come by, you’ll be able to show me that alarm system of yours.”
Powder giggled, flattered and full of ambitions.
“Bet!” she exclaimed, and the two inventors clinked glasses.
— — —
“It’s been a month and a week.”
Viktor jumped, his hand still in his pocket reaching for his money. He had not expected Powder to be there already, and he had most definitely not expected her greetings to sound so accusatory.
“I’m sorry?” he simply asked.
“You said you come here once a month, but it’s been a month and a week.”
“Powder,” Vander warned gently.
“It’s okay,” Viktor chuckled. “I’m sorry. Work has been intense, and I didn’t think you were waiting for me.”
“Are you kidding me?!” the little girl exclaimed. “I have something to show you, remember!”
Viktor blinked, confused. But as Powder started to look a bit disappointed, he realized.
“The alarm system.”
Powder nodded eagerly. She sure was different from the shy and anxious little girl who had barely dared to approach him last time. She had gained confidence, and in such a short period of time… Surely this meant her invention had worked, right? She looked so, so impatient to show him, and Vander slowly shook his head with fatherly fondness.
“Alright then,” Viktor tightened his grip on his cane’s handle, “Show me.”
“Follow me!”
The little girl ran a few steps before suddenly coming to a stop. She turned around, her face looking more… embarrassed.
“Wait— you… You wanted to have a drink, didn’t you? And you said work was intense, I’m… I don’t mean to, you know…”
“Miss Powder,” the scientist half interrupted. “I didn’t forget about your promising inventions. If I hadn’t wanted to see them, I would have gone to one of the dozens of bars in Piltover that don’t have a little genius.”
And just like that, Powder’s smile grew natural again and she went back on track, opening the door to the backroom. Had Viktor turned around, he would have caught Vander’s grateful look before following Powder.
The difference in their steps was obvious. Powder was quick, a tiny excited child, while Viktor, even though he could walk perfectly fine on his own — which he was afraid wouldn’t be for much longer, couldn’t really go that fast. Plus, the kid knew the place, she was used to these walls, those stairs. As for Viktor, well, he liked to take the time to look at his surroundings and see everything.
As the scientist carefully walked down the stairs, the sound of his cane too loud for his liking, Powder opened a door that led to a bigger room. It looked like a mix of a living room and a bedroom; a phonograph, beds, couches, a table… all signs of people hanging here often. And as a proof, there were three other children here, that Viktor had never seen before. One of them, a boy with goggles, spoke first:
“Hi Pow—... Who’s that?”
“That’s her Piltie uncle, of course,” said another boy sitting on a couch.
“I told you he’s not a Piltie!” Powder exclaimed, obviously annoyed.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pow’.”
Well that was that.
“Hello,” Viktor said awkwardly.
“I’m just showing him my alarm system,” Powder explained. “Which saved you last time.”
“I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t jinxed my mission!”
“Drop it, Mylo,” the last kid, a girl with pink hair, intervened.
“I’m just saying.”
“Well don’t.”
The boy, Mylo, rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he immediately went back to whatever it was he was doing— which was, from what Viktor could see, training on picking locks. A useful skill to have. Clearly, he wasn’t bothered by the dryness of the pink haired girl’s tone, which led Viktor to think it was a common occurrence, siblings banter and nothing more.
“So the monkey’s here,” Powder said, climbing on two boxes to grab it at the very back of a shelf.
“I’m assuming you assembled it yourself?” Viktor asked.
“Yeah! I found most of what I needed in the junk, but Little Man gave me the wheel. Check it out.”
Viktor took the toy from her extended hand and turned it around, watching it carefully. It was truly well done, and reminded him of a toy boat he had once made, back when he was around Powder’s age.
“You’re good at making those,” he complimented.
“Just wait until you see it in action!” she shot back, taking it back from him with pride.
Viktor nodded, intrigued indeed. Powder put the monkey toy back in its original spot, making sure it was placed just right, its wheel intertwined with a rope, before stepping back down.
“The hole over there is where the weight will fall thanks to the button.”
“Just like your plans said,” the scientist commented.
“Almost. It’s way less heavy now, the first try tore the monkey apart! So, wait here, I’ll go press the button.”
“I’ll do it,” Mylo volunteered.
The boy stood up, leaving his own tools behind, and left without letting Powder agree or reject his offer. The pink haired girl took the opportunity to stand up too, joining the two inventors. Though she was still far smaller than Viktor, the girl — who looked a lot like Powder, felt just as tall. She had a strong aura; that of a leader.
“Mylo knows you’re not a Piltie,” she assured.
“It’s okay,” Viktor promised in return. “It’s not that much of an insult, really.”
“Oh, trust me, it is. But it’s whatever. He’s intimidated by you is all, but don’t worry. You teach Powder stuff, right? If you’re her friend, you’re our friend too. I’m Vi.”
With that, she extended her hand, expecting him to shake it. She couldn’t be older than fifteen, but clearly, she was the big sister of the little group. Seeing a young teenager taking all those responsibilities for her siblings would have been cute, had it been a simple play pretend. Viktor could easily guess her protecting them was, sadly, no joke. So he shook her hand, silently assuring her he wouldn’t cause any harm to her little sister.
“I’m Viktor. Though I suppose you knew that already.”
“And that’s Claggor,” she added without denying, pointing at the goggles wearing kid with her free hand.
Claggor opened his mouth, probably to say hi, but he was interrupted by the loud noise of the monkey toy hitting its cymbals together with a mechanical sound. Powder stepped down from her boxes as the toy began coming closer, growing louder and louder. After a few seconds, the monkey fell from the shelf and Viktor took a step back, not wanting to get hit by its rebounce from the floor.
“See? It works perfectly, everytime!” Powder exclaimed.
“It does,” Vi confirmed with a proud look towards her little sister.
“And wait,” she continued, “It’s gonna stop soon! So even if someone is running right towards here, the toy stops before they arrive.”
And as promised, the monkey’s noises began to slow down before fully coming to a stop. Powder had thought about everything while building her invention, that was for sure; the mechanics were interesting, but what was most impressive was the way the monkey itself worked. Making the toys stop was what a younger Viktor used to struggle with — which had led to him losing many, many toy vehicles.
“Impressive,” he admitted. “Very impressive. You might as well take my place at the Academy.”
“Yeah, as if,” Powder snorted. She seemed incredibly happy with his and Vi’s approvals.
Vi smiled gently, tucking her sister’s hair behind her ear. Curious, Viktor allowed himself to wander around a bit, looking at the room. He hadn’t noticed at first, but now he could see drawings on the walls. They were made of bright colors, mostly pink and blue; the same colors used on weird objects hanging from one of the beds. Viktor couldn’t quite guess what they were. Toys? Junk? Boxes? He brushed over one of them delicately, before grabbing it to get a closer look.
“That’s Mouser,” Powder explained. “It works as a smoke bomb, for now. But soon I’ll try to fill it with nails!”
“You name your inventions?” Viktor asked to avoid having to ask a ten years old why she was creating bombs in her bedroom. That… probably was not his call to make.
“...Yeah,” she admitted after a few seconds of silence. “I guess. Sometimes. Not always. I usually don’t.”
Now Viktor wasn’t exactly good with kids, but he knew no one could speak like that while telling the truth. He didn’t turn around to face Powder, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“I do that all the time,” he responded. “I find it easier to connect with your creations when they have a name.”
Now that was the truth. Finding a name for his ideas was always one of his first steps; if it wasn’t, how could he differentiate them from the thousands of other ideas invading his mind? How could he talk about them to Heimerdinger, or his colleagues? Even though, to Powder, it was likely the same need of naming as children naming their toys or plushies, Viktor still found it was a good reflex to have.
“What’s your cool gas mask project’s called, then?” Powder asked excitedly.
“I’m afraid those are just called the masks for now,” he answered almost apologetically.
“Oh.”
“..Yeah.”
“That’s anticlimactic,” Vi intervened.
“Well still,” Powder went back on track, “I showed you my invention, so the next time you come you have to show me one of yours!”
“Hmm, sure, I can do that. If you promise not to break it,” Viktor jokingly added.
“Uh, of course? I’m not a jinx, you know, Mylo’s just dumb.”
— — —
After a particularly rough day, Viktor found himself at the Last Drop again.
It had only been a week since the last time, but he had felt he needed that. Today had just been… one of those days. None of what he had worked on had worked properly; a loose screw had even jumped out and made a cut to his forehead. Heimerdinger had rejected his new idea — which could have helped the Undercity, he was sure. His colleagues had been unbearable, too, their arrogance annoying Viktor out of his mind. And of course, his stupid leg wouldn’t stop hurting. He had been pretty stupid along the way, too. Viktor had needed his drink.
His cheek resting on his closed fist, the scientist watched with empty eyes as his other hand slowly and mechanically stirred his drink with the straw. The liquid moved gently, and the repetitiveness of it all almost distracted Viktor from the pain in his leg.
It didn’t spare him from the overwhelmness he felt, though. Maybe coming here had been stupid too. Every sound was too loud, the chatter, clinking of glasses and creaking of chairs hurting his ears. Everything put him on edge, and he felt too close to snap for comfort. Viktor didn’t like snapping. He always felt embarrassed once the heat of the moment left him, and he hated feeling like he had to hide for his feelings— from his feelings.
“It’s one of those days, huh?” a familiar voice asked.
Viktor didn’t bother raising his head. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk anyway, so he simply shrugged without looking up. Perhaps that was childish of him; no scientist behaved like that, did they? Tonight though, Viktor found he didn’t care.
Powder climbed onto the chair next to his, careful enough not to push it and make a sound, and for that the inventor was grateful. She probably understood how he felt. They were alike, the two of them, way more so than Viktor had first realized. They had the same way of viewing the world, the same mind distracted from everything and fully focused on inventions, the same passions— even the same fondness of drawing, though Viktor didn’t give the hobby too much of his time. He had drawn a portrait of Heimerdinger once, though, and the Councilor had absolutely loved it, so he knew he wasn’t too bad. That was one positive thing.
“It’s loud here,” Powder commented.
“Tell me about it.”
“Would you like to go to the backroom? The others aren’t here.”
With the way Viktor's leg was hurting, dawn would probably be here by the time they reached the room. But he didn’t want to leave just yet, and his overwhelmed senses were genuinely starting to physically hurt.
“Did you make progress on a new invention?” he asked, and it was code for please give me a reason to say yes without having to admit how miserable I feel right now.
“Yeah! My smoke bombs are starting to come up good,” Powder replied with a knowing look.
Oh, she was a smart kid. She jumped from the chair she had just sat on and bent down to grab the cane from the floor before handing it to him. Viktor took it with a grateful smile and stood up too. He didn’t know what he had done for the world to make him meet an apprentice that understood him so well, but oh, was he happy with that.
Viktor was right about one thing: it took a while for the duo to make it to the backroom. But Powder had stuck by his side, silently walking at an incredibly slow rate, refraining to fill their silence with her usual chatter — the world around was loud enough.
And when she closed the door behind them both, Viktor felt he could breathe again. The silence was so amazingly nice, and the only thing that stopped him from letting himself fall onto the couch with relief was the hurt in his leg forcing him to sit slowly. Powder stood awkwardly, seemingly wondering what she could do to help her mentor feel better — which was none of her responsibility, and Viktor wanted to make sure she knew that.
“It’s nice and quiet here. It feels better,” he said as his own way of telling her she had done plenty enough.
Powder had the nicest intentions, but she was still a child. Viktor was an adult; he knew how his emotions worked, and he had more than enough experience to know how to cope with them. The last thing he wanted was for his apprentice to put pressure on herself because she had seen him falter once.
She seemed to be doing okay though, simply choosing to sit on the couch’s armrest.
“Were people being assholes to you?”
“Wha— why?” he chuckled, taken aback by the bluntness of her question.
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “That’s usually what makes me feel angry and sad, and topside people are good at being assholes.”
“They are,” he admitted with sincerity. “But no, don’t worry about me. It’s just one of those days, like you said.”
Powder nodded knowingly. She then stood up again and went towards her bed, grabbing one of the bombs Viktor had seen the last time he had come. She came back and handed it to him; it was still open, and the mechanisms and cables were all visible. He grabbed it gently, intrigued by the invention.
Now that was a good distraction from his pain and the remnants of his overwhelmness. A good, complex invention to set his mind to. It was all incredibly well done; clearly, she had had tons of tries before, and she now knew what she had to do and how to do it as efficiently as possible.
“Impressive as ever,” he commented, careful not to break the creation as he watched it.
“Thanks,” Powder replied.
Viktor raised his head in surprise as he heard her voice coming from way farther than he had thought. He noticed the little girl was crouching, looking for something on the other side of the room; and he easily understood what it was when she stood back up, a vinyl record in her hand.
“Wanna listen to something? It helps me when I feel like that.”
“Sure.”
Powder smiled, taking the vinyl out of its cover and putting it on the phonograph Viktor had seen the last time he had come. She made sure not to make the volume too loud and nodded proudly when she thought it was just right. Only then did she come back to her mentor’s side, sitting on the couch with him.
She remained silent for a little while, probably not wanting to be too much — which was a bit sad considering her young age. But when she seemed to think Viktor was done watching her latest bomb, she opened her mouth to speak again:
“So, did you bring a mask?”
Viktor sighed. That… had been one of his dumb moments, and he was embarrassed his own stupidity had stopped him from fulfilling his promise from the last time.
“I’m sorry, I… lost it.”
“I could go search for it.”
“It’s broken.”
“I could try to fix it! It would be our first collaboration.”
“I threw it down the river.”
And Powder found nothing to say to that. Viktor had brought a mask, he had, but… Today had just been too much, and he had been too angry, and too mad at his stupid inventions that were never enough, and it had been in his hand, and before he could even think about being reasonable, he had thrown it from the bridge in frustration. So stupid, so unlike what a scientist should be. Powder stayed deep in thought for a moment.
“Well I’ll try to make a mask myself, then. It won’t work, but you can use it as a starting point to make your own again.”
“Why would you do that?” Viktor asked, confused.
“Because you’d never throw away something I made for you, you’d feel too bad.”
Yeah. Definitely a smart kid. Viktor chuckled softly— he could only admit she was right. The inventor put the bomb prototype down and sat more comfortably on the couch. Science could wait. He had to wait for Powder to create her own first step of the mask anyway, right? So he could rest for a little bit and not work. It was okay.
And one second after the other, it slowly started to make sense again. All his feelings, frustrations, hurt pride and overwhelmness each found their way and intertwined as functional gears, and his body and mind both calmed down slowly as he regained control over his own senses.
Viktor hated these outbursts of— everything. His feelings made him slower with work, they hurt him and stopped him from efficiently achieving what he had always dreamed of. But perhaps those quieter moments were worth living too. Maybe some music or the engineering of a toy instead of a life changing invention was what he needed to be more efficient. It wasn’t like he could just erase his feelings; might as well try and learn to work with them and see them not as a bother, but as a useful reminder both his body and brain needed some rest from time to time.
And, well, if rest looked like the moment he was having right now, maybe it wasn’t so bad.
— — —
The next time Viktor had stopped by the Last Drop, he had found Powder had indeed tried to make her own mask to make up for the one he had lost. It hadn’t been really functional, but it had looked pretty, and that had been enough for her to feel happy about it. In return, Viktor had finally kept his promise and brought a new work of his own. Powder had been incredibly impressed with it which, the scientist had to admit, had felt good to hear after all the harsh criticism from people more used to his inventions.
The time after that, Powder had complained about some teenagers being jerks to Ekko — the nameless white haired kid Viktor had seen a few times. She had admitted that “Little Man” was the one who had followed Viktor all the way back to Piltover the first time he and Powder had talked, just to be sure.
The time after that, Vi had stayed with them, listening with interest as Viktor had explained a few of the things he had made. It appeared the sisters were alike in their fondness of science, though the oldest seemed to lock it away in order to stay focused on protecting her family.
The time after that, Powder had been outside, so Viktor hadn't seen her. Instead, he had chatted a bit with Vander before getting to work; it seemed all the kids had taken a liking for him, though, because this time, Mylo and Claggor had sat with him. They hadn’t said much, but they had read what Viktor had been writing with curiosity, and the scientist hadn’t minded.
At some point, it had just become a habit. Before, Viktor used to come down here to work away from Piltover; but as the months went by, he had gradually grown closer with the big family, and he now used that time to check up on them. It was good to know there were people down here who were waiting for him. He had soon realized he was impatient for the right time to come every month, too. And it was even more reason for Viktor to work so tirelessly. Before, he used to work to improve the lives of hundreds of people. Now, he knew exactly who the next generation he was hoping to help was. If Piltover wasn’t going to hear the people’s complaints, Viktor was going to build a better world for Mylo, Claggor, Ekko, Vi, and Powder to live happily in. He had to. He wanted to.
— — —
When Viktor ordered his drink at The Last Drop, the same one as it had been for so long, Vander smiled. Of course, the barman had been half done with the drink before the scientist had even said a word. That, too, had become some sort of tradition over the past year.
Though the kids took most of Viktor’s time, as passionate as they were, Viktor and Vander had grown used to chatting, too. The inventor had to admit; he was far better at small talks now, thanks to those moments.
“Kids are busy right now,” Vander said. “They won’t be bothering you tonight.”
“They don’t bother me. They’re nice kids.”
“I know,” the man said with all the sincerity a human could possess.
Viktor nodded. He knew Vander was none of the children’s biological father, Claggor had told him that much. But the bond he shared with each of them was that of an incredibly close parent and their kid, and it was sweet to hear them talk with so much admiration for the man who had built the underground.
The scientist grabbed his drink, putting some money on the bar — Vander had been refusing his payments for a few months now, so it had become his way of forcing the man’s hand. Letting go of the glass, the kids’ dad lowered his gaze towards the money and sighed.
“Thank you,” he said, grabbing it.
“It’s no problem.”
“For watching over Powder,” Vander specified. “She’s never had another nerd before.”
Viktor scoffed. Vander chuckled, seemingly proud of his little joke, before getting back on track.
“No, but I mean it. She’s always been into science. She has a bright mind, she really does.”
“I can see that,” Viktor agreed. The last time they had met, Powder had made a paint gun all by herself.
“But I’m no scientist, and support can only get you so far. I think she was getting tired of me repeatedly telling her what she did was great,” Vander chuckled again. “It’s good for her to have someone who understands her mind, and who knows where to guide her. That’s what I meant. So thank you.”
“... It’s no problem,” Viktor repeated simply, taken aback.
Because really, he didn’t know what else to say. He had met the family dozens of times, but never had he realized how important it had become to Powder. He had noticed how she wasn’t so shy anymore; how Vi had stopped watching his every move when he was with her sister; how Claggor had started reminding Powder of what she had to show; how Mylo had gone from “Piltie uncle” to “science uncle”; how Ekko had started giving him new objects he had found and thought he could use for his inventions.
He had felt how their monthly meetings had become important, but he hadn’t known it.
So when he went and sat at his usual table, Viktor didn’t even bother taking his notebook out. If the kids were busy tonight, surely Vander was going to come sit at some point; and if he didn’t, Viktor was more than happy enjoying the Last Drop’s atmosphere.
It used to feel a bit like home, somehow. Now, it just felt like home.
— — —
Viktor didn’t have to wonder whether he would see anyone tonight or not. It was routine now, so he just waited to see who it would be. For the time being, and as he had for the past thirty minutes, he was working, focused on his calculations and intricate plans. Tonight felt peaceful, and he was content with simply working. It was probably a miracle that he hadn’t grown tired of science with the pressure that came with the job, but he was grateful for that. It had been the one thing that had kept him going during the rough years that were his teenage life, and he held it so, so close to his heart.
But it seemed not everyone was having a night as nice as his, Viktor thought when he heard the rapid stomping of angry footsteps walking towards him. He didn’t get startled; they were too light to be that of an adult, and he already knew who to expect when he raised his head.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was the mix of anger and sadness displayed on Powder’s face, her teary eyes, her repetitive sniffling, and the paint on her cheek. She planted herself right next to Viktor, her fists clenched tightly around her bag and trembling.
“Could we go outside?” she asked with an unusual straightforwardness.
“Sure,” he could only reply, surprised.
He had never left the bar with the kid, and for a good reason; he didn’t trust himself at all with protecting anyone down here. Sure, he was good at using his own cane as a weapon if needed be, but defending a child was something else entirely. Still, Powder looked miserable, and she hadn’t asked him to take her miles away from the bar. They would be fine. Viktor closed his notebook.
“You can say no,” Powder added, shooting a guilty look at the scientist’s cane.
“I wouldn’t come all the way down here if I couldn’t walk, don’t worry,” he assured in return.
The kid nodded, visibly relieved. She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, sniffled, and turned around to leave the bar as quickly as humanly possible. Slower, Viktor followed her, not without shooting a worried look at Vander — who simply sighed and put a bottle down, walking towards the backroom.
The weather was nice outside. The night had fallen, but down in the Undercity, it didn’t really make a difference; the streets were dark and lit up by neon lights no matter what time it was. Viktor followed Powder quietly, wondering where she was taking him. She was going fast, slaloming between people but making sure the scientist was still behind her from time to time. And that he was: not being able to walk as quickly didn’t mean he intended on letting her out of his sight. She had grown taller and braver since the first time they had met, but she was still a child.
Powder ended up stopping by the river. She sat on the edge, her feet dangling almost ten meters above the water. Viktor didn’t even think about telling her to be careful; Undercity children didn’t really think about danger, he knew that well. As a kid, he had walked into a dark cave and offered himself as an assistant for a suspicious scientist without thinking twice, so… he wasn’t really one to talk about safety.
And so Viktor sat next to her, setting his cane on his other side. He stayed silent for a while, gazing at the horizon. On the opposite bank of the river, Piltover stood proud and tall. As a child, he used to envy that view, and he was sure Powder did too. He had spent countless hours looking at the city, wondering what kind of marvelous inventions remained hidden there, and what he could make if given the right tools.
But time had gone by, and that envy had now turned into familiarity. Piltover wasn’t his home, it would probably never be. His heart belonged to the Undercity, but he was proud of what he had managed to accomplish on the other side of the river by simply believing in himself. At the thought, Viktor spared a look at the bridge: it stood tall, too, hundreds of meters away. Viktor’s leg hurt at the thought of walking all the way there to go back to the Academy, but really, he could only blame himself for following his apprentice this far.
The scientist was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Powder sniffle again. Contrary to what he had thought, the girl hadn’t stopped holding back her tears, and though she seemed more still, she also looked angrier. And Viktor was… well, a year had passed since he had first met her, but he still wasn’t great with children. He only knew how to talk to people as equals. So for a moment, he didn’t really know what to say.
“Would you… like to talk about what happened?” he ended up asking, his tone gentle and worried.
Powder froze for a second, deep in thought. Staring at the water, she bounced her legs for a little while, before slowly turning her head towards Viktor’s own feet dangling from the edge.
“What’s up with your leg?” she asked.
Viktor took that as an answer to his own question. She didn’t want to talk about it, and that was okay.
“Well, I have a femoral anteversion. It means my femur rotates, and my knee faces inward rather than forward. That’s why it’s hard for me to walk. It also makes it difficult to bend or extend my leg.”
“Were you born like that?” Powder inquired, seeming both curious and afraid of making him uncomfortable.
“I was,” he confirmed. That wasn’t something he was embarrassed to talk about.
“...Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes. It does when I push myself too hard, or when I force my leg into a correct position, or when I walk for too long. Or randomly. But it doesn't right now.”
Viktor knew his condition had stayed untreated for… a little too long, and that it would become more and more problematic in the future. He wasn’t quite there yet, though, so he tried not to think about it too much. There wasn’t really anything he could do anymore, so he thought… later.
“That’s a shame,” Powder commented with a pout. “I love running.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t,” he chuckled.
Now that was a lie. Viktor had always wanted to run — or at least, to know what it felt like to run. The longest he had gone without tripping and falling had been a few meters, running after his own inventions. He had never been able to catch up to the toy boat, but he never would, so he might as well pretend he was okay with it.
Powder stayed quiet for a few seconds. She looked at Viktor, then at the river; then, at Viktor again.
“At least you have a sick cane.”
Viktor lowered his head towards it, a bit surprised. He didn’t really think of his cane as cool. It was merely an object designed to help him get to his daily tasks faster, he had no attachment to it whatsoever. It could look however it had to, as long as it served its purpose. Which made Viktor think… He looked at Powder again, before lowering his gaze towards the bag she had set next to her. And without thinking twice, he asked:
“Would you like to decorate it?”
“Huh?”
“I noticed you always draw on your bombs and toys. Would you like to draw on my cane?”
“Wha— you’d let me..?” she asked, looking almost scared of him suddenly laughing at her and saying no to her face.
“If you want to. I don’t really like how it looks anyway.”
The unsaid truth was Viktor thought Powder might enjoy drawing, feel useful, share a good moment with him, and that it all would make her feel a bit better. The little girl stared at him without saying anything else. Viktor reached for his cane and handed it to her, waiting patiently for her to grab it. And grabbing it she did, before turning it around and looking at it carefully. She seemed fascinated by such a simple object, it amused Viktor.
And suddenly, probably hit by a spark of inspiration, she laid the cane on her knees, took her pink and blue crayons out of her bag, and got to work.
Viktor didn’t say anything else. The sound of the water below and the crayons hitting the cane filled the air with a calm and serene atmosphere, and he enjoyed that. Powder’s sniffling had stopped, too. She was focused, with her tongue sticking out of her mouth and her head staying barely a few centimeters above the cane, as if taking it any farther would ruin her art. Viktor smiled fondly at that; his little plan had worked.
A few minutes passed before Powder finally broke the silence.
“I had a fight with Mylo."
“What happened?” Viktor asked carefully, afraid of getting her to shut down again.
“I insisted on following him for a mission, and we ended up in a fight with some dumb dudes. I threw Mouser to make a distraction, but it hit Mylo in the head and he ended up covered in paint..! And then the other guys took his haul...”
Powder sighed, her forehead hitting the cane and her expression awfully embarrassed. She stayed unmoving for a few more seconds, and Viktor waited silently. She finally opened her mouth again and admitted:
“He told me Vi should’ve come instead, and that I humiliated him, and that I jinx every job.”
“He only said that because he was mad,” Viktor tried to console her.
“But he was right.”
Viktor stayed quiet. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, and that she was no jinx — just like she had told him all those months ago. But he felt Powder wasn’t done talking, and that her silence was simply her gathering her thoughts and searching for the right words. Frustrated, she put the blue crayon down and grabbed the pink one instead.
“Every single time I come along, something goes wrong,” she declared, getting back to drawing, still not facing Viktor. “I want to help my family, but I can’t fight, and my bombs never work!”
“You’re just a kid. They’re older than you, they’ve had more time to learn.”
“I know. But Vi was already so much greater when she was my age! It’s not fair.”
“It’s not,” Viktor admitted.
Powder stopped moving, taken aback. She finally raised her head and turned to look at her science mentor, her ‘Piltie uncle’. She had probably expected him to try and console her, to tell her she was perfect just the way she was, and whatever lies adults came up with when they wanted their child to feel better. What she hadn’t expected was Viktor to simply agree to what she had said about the unfairness of the world. And the reason why suddenly hit her as she lowered her gaze towards his cane, seconds before he opened his mouth again.
“I can’t lie, miss Powder, it’s not fair. Some people are born stronger, or smarter, or luckier. That’s the sad truth. But maybe that’s not all there is. Do you know how I became the assistant of Councilor Heimerdinger?”
Powder slowly shook her head. Her complaining had made her teary eyed again; she was in no mood to make a sound, content with simply listening.
“I decided I wanted to improve the lives of others, just like you’ve decided you want to help your family. I had my goal, and you have yours. I came from a cave in the Undercity all the way to the doors of Piltover without even having a name, a patron, or, well… money. But I believed in myself, and in my goal.”
The kid started drawing again, listening carefully and taking in every word.
“So I got to work. I started creating little things, just like you do now. They didn’t always work, but I always tried again, and again, and again. And somewhere along the way, I caught the attention of Heimerdinger, and he volunteered to teach me the more… academic sides of science, so I could use them for my inventions.”
“So you got lucky,” Powder concluded with a half annoyed tone. “Heimerdinger could have not been there, or not cared enough.”
“I did,” Viktor admitted. “But just like I coincidentally met Heimerdinger in the street, you coincidentally met me at the bar. Not that I would ever dare to compare myself to him, of course. Eh, it’s just for the idea.”
“But I don’t want help. I want to be able to make them work myself!”
“I know that. But you trust my knowledge in science, right?”
She nodded. He smiled.
“Then know I’m absolutely certain you are on the right track. They’ll work very, very soon.”
And somehow, that was enough. Because Powder trusted Viktor, and Viktor knew he was right. Every time he visited, Powder got closer to her own breakthrough. If anything, the scientist absolutely wanted to avoid taking that incredible feeling away from her. He wanted her to feel all the pride and joy an inventor feels when their invention finally works; and he was convinced she was getting very close to that.
So the little girl nodded, and she handed his cane back to him. Viktor carefully grabbed it, his eyes already wandering on all the drawings. She had made dozens of colorful doodles; a few symbols, some words too, and an incredible number of tiny drawings.
It was as if his cane was a wall that had been covered in little graffiti, and Viktor could already imagine having to explain that to his colleagues. The man was an eccentric scientist, but his appearance was absolutely ordinary. He wanted his inventions to take the spotlight and grab the world’s attention, not him, oh, not him. So really, he didn’t stand out; his hair was simple, his clothes were simple, his cane was simple. Or, used to be.
Still, he thought it looked incredibly pretty like that. Viktor was not familiar with the use of bright, flashy colors; but he thought he could get used to it.
And just like that, Powder had proved him wrong. How could his cane still be a simple object that only had to serve its purpose, and that Viktor felt no attachment to? Now, it looked like a symbol of their bond. A bit of her that he had with him and that could serve as a constant reminder that, down in the Undercity, a child was waiting for her mentor to teach her the ways of science.
“You look like you hate it,” Powder tried to joke as Viktor stared at the cane in awe.
“I do, obviously. And that’s why I’ll never get rid of it, even when I have to trade it for a crutch.”
“Will you let me draw on your crutch too?”
“Of course. It’s a lot prettier like that. You’re as good an artist as you are a scientist, miss Powder.”
The little girl giggled, happy with his response. She felt better, and somehow, he did too. So the duo of scientists silently agreed on staying just a little while longer, enjoying the breeze and the sounds of the river down below, and Powder leaned to put her head against his shoulder, content with the night's outcome.
— — —
Oh, Viktor had so much to tell Powder.
Firstly, that he had decided to gift her something. The last time they had met, a month before, she had given him something by drawing on his cane, and Viktor had realized he wanted to give her something in return. He had thought about it a lot, but in the end, he had chosen the most simple of things.
His very first toy boat. The one that had started it all, the one that had led him to meet Singed and so, years later, Heimerdinger. A nice toy, and the reminder that every scientist had to start somewhere; an imperfect invention but a beginning nonetheless, the proof that an accomplished inventor had failed a lot, too. Viktor had felt Powder had needed this kind of reminder last time.
But that wasn’t all he had to say, far from it! Viktor had made a breakthrough. Or, more precisely, he had helped someone make one. He had to tell Powder about how he had met this strange, ambitious man who had declared at his trial that he was trying to create magic. Viktor had gotten intrigued, had offered his help so the eccentric man could achieve his lifelong dream before the Council could take it away from him.
And they had made it. They had made magic. Or, Hextech, as that inventor, Jayce Talis, had called it. They had secretly gotten into Heimerdinger’s lab — oh, Powder was going to love that part of the story, and they had turned the impossible possible. They had changed the future, and now, Piltover would never be the same. Viktor had finally found the one thing that could become the final bridge helping him reach his lifelong dream: improving the lives of everyone who needed it, and helping the Undercity in every way he could.
Powder was going to be so happy, and Viktor had never walked so fast before. Cane in one hand, toy boat in the other, he could already imagine her fascinated face as he would tell his story. He was… incredibly proud, and he hoped she would realize how amazing the last few days had been just as much as he did. Well, he knew she would. She was a smart kid.
Viktor felt almost dizzy with pride and joy. His whole view of the world had changed. Now, he had a partner, a chance, and an entire new realm of possibilities. Hope was flooding his entire being, and a bright smile was on his lips as he crossed the bridge.
The streets of the Undercity were… quiet. Unusually so. He felt watched, almost as if he was a bird flying head first into a cat’s trap. A chill going down his spine, Viktor felt a bit worried; but he didn’t stop walking, nor did he slow down. The faster he would get to the bar, the safer he would be.
He had a few reasons to feel unsafe, for once. He was half of the duo that had made Hextech come to life in Piltover; maybe the Lanes had heard of the breakthrough, and maybe they already knew it would be almost impossible to convince Piltover to let them enjoy Hextech’s help as well.
Viktor knew he was a nice and easy target.
He walked a bit faster, almost too fast for his bad leg to follow, but his cane didn’t wait for his body. That entire thing was a problem for tomorrow’s Viktor. The scientist was already willing to fight tooth and nail for the Undercity, and as a man of the Lanes who had never given up on them, he could convince the people of his homeland of that easily enough. They had to know he had always kept them in mind, right?
For now, he only had one goal in his thoughts, and he would not turn back now.
His doodles covered cane hit the ground one last time as Viktor finally came to a stop. The streets weren’t the only unusually grim and quiet place. He looked around, confused; there was no sign of life in the bar. Why was there no sign of life in the bar? Viktor had never seen the place closed, and he knew Vander couldn’t exactly afford holidays for his children, so what was going on?
At least, the Undercity wasn’t empty — if it had been, Viktor would have probably hit himself to try and wake up. But there were people around, most of them sitting quietly, giving him weird looks.
All the lights were turned off inside. That view felt… scary. Especially so because the scientist had come later than usual due to his incredible amount of work; Hextech was only three nights old, after all.
Not really sure why, Viktor tried to enter anyway. He had been to the backroom countless times, and he knew his ‘science uncle’ title wasn’t that much of a joke anymore, so really, he was no ordinary client. But of course the door didn’t open, and so he stepped back again, facing the wall with a confused helplessness.
“What are you doing here?” a voice asked behind him.
The inventor turned around to face whoever was talking to him. It happened to be a man far taller than him, so Viktor raised his head to look him in the eyes. The stranger didn’t look happy at all — but he didn’t look menacing either. Simply not happy. Viktor didn’t feel threatened.
“I was hoping to see the people who own this bar,” he explained simply.
“Bar’s closed. Might never open again. Haven’t you heard?” the man asked. Then he shot a look at Viktor’s academy uniform, ironed and clean. “...Of course you haven’t.”
Viktor’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. He was a bit hurt by the man’s words, to be honest; but he knew they weren’t wrong. Living in Piltover, he wasn't exactly in the best place to keep track of everything happening down there, which had been the initial reason for his regular visits before meeting the Undercity family.
Still, his hurt pride and feelings were nothing compared to the pit that was growing inside his stomach. The darkness in the bar behind him matched in a twisted way with the man’s grave look, and no one around was making a sound. Viktor had no idea what he was supposed to ‘have heard’, but he already knew it wasn’t good. He hated being the only one left in ignorance while everyone around seemed to know everything. A feeling from his beginnings at the Academy he had long since forgotten.
“What happened?” he asked slowly, scared of hearing the answer. “Are they okay?”
The man sighed.
“... Don’t bother coming back down here,” he replied after a short silence, leaving the obvious unsaid.
What…?
No. No, no, no no no no no, it couldn’t— it couldn’t! The man looked sorry. What did he look sorry for?! His hand clenching tighter around the toy boat, Viktor looked around frantically, looking for a single person, just a single person bursting with laughter and mocking him for panicking so quickly.
Every pair of eyes that didn’t shy away looked pitiful.
Viktor shot a look back at the closed door, his cane trembling almost as much as his hands. It couldn’t. It was his imagination, it was a bad dream— the Hextech was making him crazy! Or… or…
“You’re lying,” he accused, facing the man again, his voice wavering too much for his liking.
“I’m sorry?” a woman intervened, standing up in front of Viktor. “The Undercity as a whole turned upside down in a single night! Where were you when it happened?”
“I was—...” changing the world for them!
Yet the words never left his mouth.
“I was…”
He really had missed it all, hadn’t he?
“I…”
His science couldn’t save him from reality anymore, could it?
“That’s what I thought,” the woman declared with anger.
“That’s enough,” the man from before interrupted, pulling her back. “The man’s clearly in shock.”
Viktor didn’t process what they were saying.
That wasn’t all there was, was it? There had to be more. They couldn’t just be— gone. There had to be some kind of future for them, somewhere, somehow, Viktor just had to find it, right? He couldn’t be walking the path alone now that he had finally found a family. He just couldn’t, not when these people were children who had so much more to experience… The world couldn’t be so cruel, right?
It couldn’t be so… so… unfair.
He was a scientist. That was it. He was a scientist, and scientists only believe what they see, so as far as he was concerned, they were fine, they were okay, they were just… somewhere.
So why weren’t they here?
He knew why. He knew why and that was what hurt the most. His mind was too logical to completely convince itself of a hopeful lie. Viktor wanted to drop the toy boat and his cane, just as much as he wanted to hold them close to his heart and never let go. He wanted to move. He wanted to stay here.
He wanted everything, and nothing at all. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to fall to his knees and sob until dawn, he wanted to grab that man, shake him, beg him to tell him his nieces and nephews were okay, he wanted to cry and cry and sob and fall and break and die and stop— just STOP feeling so much.
It was all too much. His heart was beating so fast, Viktor could feel it in his throat, and he felt everything, every single inch of his body hurt and felt too much, yet at the same time he felt absolutely nothing. It was too sudden, too extreme, too insane to consider, how could he even begin to process?
He wanted the tears to actually form and fall from his eyes down to the ground, so he could at least know he was real. But nothing happened, and Viktor just stared silently, wide eyed at the nothingness ahead of him.
And when he started walking again, there were only four people left around him, and they had stopped staring. He had no idea how much time had passed— he had no idea it had even passed at all, really. His entire life was crumbling down, dissolving into one big, big, merciless void.
And just like that, it all became a blur.
His cane, his beautiful cane that his beautiful apprentice had spent so much time and emotion drawing on, was the only thing breaking the silence of the night. It was as if Viktor himself wasn’t breathing. The object felt heavier with every step— or maybe it was his own body shutting down on him.
That was all there was.
Just a few nights ago, Viktor had found something revolutionary. He had turned his career around, he had found the solution to turn their lives around, he had harnessed the power necessary to give them the existence they wanted. He had made magic a tool for them, and they had left him. Had they grown tired of him? He had never been good with people.
No, that was wrong. Had they wanted to leave him, they would have chased him out, or left, but not left. So why did Viktor feel so angry? Was he angry at them, at himself or at the world? Was he angry at all, or was he desperately trying to be so he could convince himself he wasn’t absolutely miserable?
Oh, the Lanes felt so big, and Viktor felt so small. Walking around in the Undercity, holding his toy boat like it was his only friend, confused, lost, the scientist felt like he was back to being that little child. And it was so unfair. Why had he been given the chance to grow up and become an inventor? The world had no right to be so cruel.
How Viktor hated it all. He wanted to improve lives, yet he wanted the world to burn. He wanted it to crumble under its own weight and greed, so it could be built back up again. It was too sick, the world was corrupted, humans were corrupted, feelings were corrupted, and Viktor, well, Viktor was alone. He had Jayce, he had Hextech, he had a promising career, he had fame waiting for him, he had the fate of the world in the palm of his hand. But the only thing that felt real was that stupid toy boat, and it felt so, so heavy.
That night, Viktor went back to Piltover and straight into the lab. He had to work. He had to keep working, keep dedicating his entire being to something true, because he didn’t trust himself with his own mind. He was going to change the world, and he was going to see them all again, because they. Couldn’t. Be. Gone.
He would go back down. Vander would make him his usual drink. Mylo would joke awkwardly at him. Claggor would ask if he could read his latest writings. Ekko would tell him what kind of inventions he needed. Vi would hang out and simply talk about the world. Powder would… she would be her bright, emotional, funny and incredibly smart self.
It had to be true. So why was Viktor’s writing so shaky and blurred by droplets falling from his eyes?
— — —
Viktor had kept coming back with his toy boat — her toy boat, again and again.
One attempt.
No one was there.
Two attempts.
No one was there.
Three attempts.
People were starting to get annoyed with him.
Four attempts.
No one.
Five attempts.
He had thought he had seen them, but still, no one was there.
Six attempts.
The annoyed looks had become pitiful, and that had felt even worse.
Seven attempts.
A woman had put a consoling hand on his shoulder. Viktor had stayed all night, sitting by the door.
Eight attempts.
No one had the strength to act surprised at his unsuccessful attempts anymore. He had stayed again, despite getting sick last time.
Nine attempts.
As soon as Viktor had arrived, a man had offered to walk him back home with a sad look.
Ten attempts.
Everyone was familiar with Viktor now. They had grown tired of telling him he would be better off in Piltover.
Eleven attempts.
It’s no use, is it?
Twelve attempts.
The Last Drop was changing owners. The walls were getting painted over, and there was no turning back now.
He still didn't know what had happened to everyone. They had taken that knowledge with them.
Viktor stopped coming to the bar after that. In fact, he stopped coming to the Undercity altogether. He had to work. He had to keep working, to see the greater picture, to pretend he still wanted to know the future so maybe he could forget that emptiness inside of him. It was of no use, not for him, and not for the people he could still save. He didn’t care about living anymore, nor did he care about himself. He dedicated all his waking time to his goal as if he was a machine designed to do just that, ignoring Jayce’s worried looks the same way he ignored the emptiness.
When Viktor had created Hextech with Jayce, they had proudly said the world would never be the same.
The scientist hadn’t thought it was his world that was going to get shattered and erased.
And perhaps it was selfish, perhaps this single thought made him unworthy of being the one trying to change the future; but if given the choice, Viktor knew he would throw the entire Hextech revolution away for a single chance at a proper goodbye.
Yet the toy boat remained unmoved, gathering dust and spiderwebs as the years went by and the meaningful cane was replaced by an empty dull crutch.