Chapter Text
Viktor was nine, and especially small for his age, when he met Silco.
The Doctor was unbothered by the man in his lab, but Viktor knew to be wary of men who carried themselves with such confidence. So, he kept his head down and continued his work on the syringe that the Doctor had asked him for. He wanted something spring operated, something that pushed the medicine in before the patient could move.
Viktor had gotten a few prototypes working, but they weren't fast enough - or they were too forceful to actually deliver the medicine. Or whatever else the Doctor wanted to inject. Viktor wasn't naive - but one did what one must to survive, and he couldn't do the work the other children could.
This version of the syringe was shaping up to be the best yet.
The Doctor’s odd, soft voice broke through Viktor’s thoughts.
“Child. Bring your latest work here. We are going to test it.”
Viktor looked up to see that the new man was sitting in one of the chairs. He hadn't gotten a good look before, simply ducked his head and made himself small. But now, he could see the man’s face, half-disfigured, and a black eye - tracking his movements as he worked his way to the Doctor.
“So this is the boy you took in,” the man commented as Viktor placed the new syringe in the Doctor’s hands. The Doctor said something in response, but Viktor was too preoccupied struggling to drag a chair over. He needed to watch the injection, so he could improve his work.
The Doctor lined the syringe up to the man's strange eye. He fired the mechanism - it hit the man's eye. The man cried out, spasmed, but-
But it worked.
Viktor could have danced - or well, shuffled. It had worked! Gone fast enough to push in the medicine, but slow enough that the man’s eye absorbed it!
The man took some deep breaths, leaning forward in the chair, before his eyes focused again on Viktor.
“You made this?” He gestured at the syringe that the Doctor was handing back to him. Viktor pulled the syringe close to him and simply nodded.
The man was appraising him; for what, Viktor didn’t know.
“You have talent. I can grow it more than the good Doctor here.” He held out a hand to Viktor as he stood.
Viktor glanced at the Doctor, who simply nodded at him. Permission to go with this man, if he so wished.
Viktor took the man’s hand and found himself suddenly picked up, put on the man’s hip like a small child. And well, Viktor was small.
“My name is Silco.”
“Viktor.”
The man - Silco - hummed. “Alright, Viktor. What things are yours?”
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Viktor was ten the first time he saw Silco kill someone.
The man had truly taken him in. Viktor had a little desk of his own in Silco’s office, where he could tinker and build to his heart’s content. In the man’s home, Silco had set him up a little cot next to his own. As they walked to Silco’s work in the morning, Silco would ask him: “What are you building today?”
And he would listen to what Viktor said. When Viktor needed parts, they were provided, easily and without complaint. Silco left him to his own devices throughout the day - save for mealtimes, when he would pull Viktor away to eat.
When Viktor startled from loud words, Silco would pierce the offending person with a glare. When Viktor fell asleep early, he carried Viktor home. When Viktor stumbled from walking too quickly, Silco slowed his gait.
Silco treated him better than his family ever had.
Again, Viktor was not naive. The people who came and went from Silco’s office didn't recommend his character. Whatever Silco did to bring in money was illegal and dangerous. But wasn't everything in the Undercity?
Still, Viktor did not see him kill.
Viktor was walking back to the office, a bag of parts clutched in his hand. He had gone to get them himself, and Silco had dropped the money for it straight into Viktor’s hand with no hesitation.
What Viktor hadn't yet realized was the change in his status.
A teenager blocked his path, flipping a knife in his hands. Easy, casual. A show of strength.
“Now what do we have here? You're all by yourself, boy.”
Viktor clutched the parts tighter. They weren't worth all that much - but it had been bought with Silco's money. But it wasn't as though Viktor could fight him; he wasn't exactly fighting material.
He held out the bag. “This is all I have on me.”
The teenager snorted. Viktor took a shuffling step back. Hands landed on his shoulders and he jumped; another teenager, behind him. Viktor swallowed.
The first boy just laughed. “Oh, we don't want your sad little sack. You're valuable to that man Silco. I wonder how much he'll pay for you.”
A sharp pain flashed through him and all was dark.
He woke to neon lights flickering. Viktor squinted, the light hurting. Where was he? He certainly wasn't at home; Silco kept the blinds drawn tight, to help his eye.
His arm pulled against a restraint as he tried to move. Tied down. Definitely not home.
“Aw, the little shit's awake.”
Viktor rolled his head to the side; a girl, pretending to coo at him, no older than 20. A few others were lounging around. He was tied to some beam, cuffs holding him tightly in place. His body ached, stiff from the position he'd been in for who knows how long.
“Leave him alone, Lyn. He's about to make us a lot of money.”
The girl merely laughed, stalking over to Viktor and grabbing his face. He struggled against the hold, his good leg kicking. His bad leg strained, and he gasped as it lit up in pain.
“I suppose he is. His face is pretty enough that we could probably sell him to some topsiders, once Silco gives us the money.”
She pushed Viktor back into the beam, laughing. The conversation moved on - but Viktor wasn't paying attention.
The girl had dropped a bobby pin. It had fallen out of her pockets when she leaned over him - too far to easily reach, but- Viktor shuffled his feet, grimacing as he had to move his leg in painful ways. He just needed to get it with one of his feet. Then he could pull it close, and shuffle around the beam to grab it with his hands.
Hopefully without the teenagers noticing.
He didn't exactly have a plan for after - he couldn’t run, and his cane was no where to be seen - but it would be a step in the right direction.
Viktor’s bad foot landed on the bobby pin with a soft thud; he held back the pained groan through gritted teeth. He needed to be quiet, forgotten. Had to ignore the tears running down his face from the pain of moving his leg closer. He had to make it out of here. Silco wasn't going to come for him, and who knows what the topsiders would do with him.
A loud bang echoed through the space; a door had slammed open, somewhere that Viktor couldn't see. The teenagers heads whipped around and-
The girl who had grabbed him toppled over. Blood ran down her face - she had been shot.
Another had grabbed a gun, pulling it up- Sevika crashed into him, her knife easily slicing the teenagers’ neck. Blood sprayed from the artery, and the kid dropped.
The other two scrambled to run. Sevika stalked after one and-
Silco stepped into Viktor's view, right next to him. He held his gun steady, almost lazily. The final teenager fell, the bullet piercing the back of their head.
Blood dribbled onto the floor. Silco tucked his gun into his jacket. He kneeled down to Viktor's level, eyes tracing over his face. His body blocked the gruesome scene - a kindness, but not one Viktor needed. He had seen people die before.
“Are you okay?” Silco's voice sounded worried. He reached out and cupped Viktor's cheek, wiping away his pained tears.
He dropped the cuffs that held him, shuffling towards Silco as best he could. The tears fell down his face freely now, and he managed out a hiccuping, “Father!”
Silco gathered Viktor in his arms after a moment of surprise; he obviously hadn’t realized that Viktor had freed himself while the teenagers were distracted with Silco’s appearance. He held Viktor’s shaking body tightly, letting the boy cry into his jacket.
Viktor hadn't even expected him to come.
“It's alright, little star,” Silco murmured, rubbing his back. “You're safe. I won't let anyone touch you.”
Silco stood, cradling Viktor to his chest. He was giving out instructions, to Sevika and a few others. Clean up. Viktor’s sobs turned into soft little hiccups, and he simply watched, quietly.
He had a new cane the next day.
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Viktor was eleven when he first saw Silco injured.
He was half dragged into the office by Sevika. Viktor watched with wide eyes as Silco was deposited in his chair. There was blood running down Silco’s side, staining his jacket and leaving smears wherever he went.
The cane steadied Viktor, even as he felt that his world was crashing down around him.
Silco was hurt. Silco couldn't be hurt. How could it happen? He was better than everyone, invincible and omnipresent-
“Come here, little star, if you're just going to stare.” Silco’s voice was even, but obviously strained.
Viktor stumbled forward, even with his cane. He gripped the armrest of Silco’s chair so tightly his knuckles went white. Silco ran a hand gently down his face. Blood smeared in it's path. “I'll be alright. It's a clean slice.”
“Can I help?” Viktor asked, quietly. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the oozing wound.
There was a moment of silence. Silco was considering Viktor’s request, taking it seriously. He always did; it didn’t matter the ask.
Sevika snorted from her spot in the corner. She was tending to her own wounds. “You're going to end up with a rough scar,” she offered.
“Would you be able to stitch it up? It would be hard for me to do it on my own.”
Viktor’s conviction crystallized at once. “I can do it.”
The supplies were at hand, and Viktor soon found himself staring at the tear in his father’s flesh. He bit the inside of his cheek, but he would not stop.
“Pinch the skin together,” Silco instructed, voice even and smooth despite the pain he must be in.
Viktor did as he was told.
After the first two stitches, Viktor realized it wasn't much different than patching a hole in fabric. More… liquids, and more resistance to the piercing of the needle - but the concept was the same, after all.
Silco grunted occasionally as Victor punctured the skin - but he held still. Viktor finished up with a secure knot. He put aside the needle and looked up at Silco. The man’s eyes met his; Silco’s expression was soft, even as the creases at the sides of his eyes gave away the pain he was in.
Silco smiled at him and nodded, indulgent. Always indulgent for Viktor. He was careful as he wound the bandages around Silco’s torso. The bleeding had slowed; still, Viktor’s hands were bloody. All of him was bloody.
“You did a good job. If you pass me the bandages, I can wrap it.”
“I can do it,” Viktor half-argued.
A hand patted Viktor’s head as he put away the supplies. He paused, looking back at Silco.
“Thank you, little star. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? I’ll have a surprise for you when you get back.”
“I do not need it. I would have done this for you anyway.”
Silco chuckled. “I know. And that’s why I got the surprise for you. Go get clean and come back.”
Viktor did as told. A basket of peaches waited for him when he returned. The juice dripped down his face and all over this workspace, but he had never tasted anything better in his entire life.
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Viktor was thirteen the first time he shot a gun himself.
A gun dropped noisily onto Viktor’s desk; he didn't even bother to look up - he knew now that he didn't have to answer to anyone but his father; he was Silco’s little star, his son in all but blood. Though, he did try to get along with everyone. He was especially fond of Sevika, who would bring him textbooks. Viktor knew better than to ask where she got them.
This was not his father, nor was it Sevika.
“If you want something, tell me plainly, or leave - I'm in the middle of something.” Viktor didn't even bother to look up as he carefully fit the gears into the box he was working with. It was going to be a simple jukebox - he was trying to get the mechanism to trigger with a magnet instead. A test for being able to start things at a distance, or perhaps even through walls!
Not that Mokkid here cared what he was doing.
“My gun's fucked. It got dropped during the last shimmer run and now the kickback's insane. Fix it.”
Viktor wouldn't put his money on Mokkid lasting too long. But at least he didn't call him names.
He glanced at the gun, before going back to his box. He tried to move the mechanism with one of the magnets, frowning when it didn't catch. He either needed a smoother mechanism or a stronger magnet. Maybe both.
“I do not work on weapons,” Viktor stated, putting aside his box and grabbing his journal to scribble in.
Mokkid ripped the journal out of his hands. “Well, you'll work on this one! I don't even know why Silco keeps you around, if you don't work on anything useful.”
Viktor simply raised an eyebrow at him, leaning back in his chair.
“Fix. It.”
Viktor sighed, picking up the gun and pretending to inspect it. He turned it over in his hands but his eyes were watching Mokkid. He loomed over Viktor, trying to intimidate him.
Viktor hummed and held the gun out at length, as though he was continuing to examine part of it. The trigger compressed easily enough. The bullet went right through Mokkid’s thigh. Viktor’s hand ricochetted back. The man cried out and fell to the floor.
“You are right,” Viktor stated, looking at the gun with a little surprise, “It does have quite the kickback.”
Mokkid recovered faster than Viktor expected; he lunged at Viktor from the floor. The chair squeaked as Viktor scrambled to get up, away-
Pain shot up his leg. He stumbled.
Mokkid grabbed Viktor by the hair and threw him to the ground. His body landed on the bad side; his cry of pain echoed in the small room. Mokkid gripped him by the hair again before Viktor could get his bearings. The man’s fist pulled back-
The gun slotted underneath Mokkid’s chin smoothly. It shook in Viktor's hands.
They both paused there, panting. Viktor was shaking badly, a combination of fear and pain - mostly pain. It was going to take so long for his leg to recover.
The door to the office burst open, Silco all but stumbling in. “Viktor-!” his yell cut off as he took in the scene. Silco straightened, fixing his coat as he gathered himself; Viktor’s father tucked back behind the gangster. His eyes were stuck to Mokkid's fist.
“Well. What do we have here?”
It was Mokkid, his voice growling, who started.
“This crippled little shit-”
“Shut up.” Viktor's voice was calm, almost cheery. He shoved the gun into the bottom of Mokkid's chin. The man growled, but went silent.
“He came in and tried to get me to fix his gun,” Viktor supplied, “Very rude about it. I decided to give it a look, but I needed to test it out. If that test happened to be on his thigh… Eh, details.”
Silco snorted, striding over to them. A few people were watching through the doorway. “Well then. Why don't I take Mokkid here, and you can get back to what you were doing before he was rude to you.” He held out his hand; Viktor hesitated only a moment before placing the gun in it.
Mokkid scrambled off of Viktor the moment the gun was gone. Blood leaked from his thigh - and was smeared all over Viktor's clothes, he now noticed.
“Alright. Though I might need to change first. And I needed some new parts, regardless.”
Viktor took Silco's other hand, his father helping him stand and retrieving his cane for him. His voice was soft, when he spoke. “Make sure to bring someone with you.”
Viktor grimaced. “I know.”
Silco stepped away, gesturing at Mokkid to follow him.
If Viktor didn't see the man again, well- nothing was really lost.