Fault Lines
It was one of those nights when Viktor chose to stay late in the lab, long after the rest of Piltover’s Academy had emptied out. The hum of machinery and the faint, metallic smell in the air were constant companions, comforting in their familiarity. Yet tonight, even that did little to silence the frustration in his chest.
Viktor had always prided himself on his perseverance. Obstacles in research were inevitable, so they never dissuaded him. If anything, they strengthened his resolve to find alternative solutions—to create something meaningful that could help those who truly needed it. But tonight, he found himself on edge, his patience worn thin as if eroded by the sharp, unrelenting ache in his leg and back. Pain was something he’d long since learned to live with, but ignoring it for days on end while pushing his body and mind to their limits had clearly taken its toll on him today.
He huffed out a breath and leaned heavily on the edge of the table, his crutch propped precariously against the workbench. His eyes flicked to the scribbled runes scattered across his notes—pages upon pages of meticulously cataloged combinations and calculations. What once held the promise of progress now seemed to taunt him, each failed attempt etched in ink.
Adjustments, recalibrations, substitutions—nothing had worked. No matter how he refined the sequences, the results were the same: failure. The device floated just above the table, its surface pulsing faintly with flickering blue light, a reminder of the potential it held—and the solutions it continued to withhold.
He glanced at the empty chair across the lab. Jayce would’ve been sitting there if things were different. He’d have coaxed Viktor into taking a break by now, probably with a cheerful grin and a plate of something to eat—an insistence Viktor found annoying but endearing in equal measure. They’d have exchanged ideas, the lively back-and-forth often sparking inspiration. Viktor couldn’t deny how much he missed that dynamic. It had been the foundation of so much of their work. Of their friendship.
But lately… Viktor shook his head, trying to stop thinking about it. Lately, Jayce had changed. Ever since his promotion to the council, his priorities seemed different. Viktor didn’t want to resent him for it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that their shared dream of helping the less fortunate was slipping away, overshadowed by Piltover’s politics. By the council’s interests.
He exhaled sharply and tossed his notes onto the disordered pile of papers scattered across the table. This wasn’t working. His focus was shattered, his thoughts tangled in a web of conflicting emotions he wasn’t ready to confront. In this state, progress was impossible. As much as it grated against his instincts, it was time to stop for the night.
Viktor stood slowly, favoring his aching leg as he reached for his crutch. The walk back to his quarters would be tedious, but perhaps the walk would offer him some clarity—or at the very least, a chance to breathe in the crisp night air.
As he left the lab, the rhythmic tap of his crutch against the floor echoed through the dark, empty halls. The sound was steady, almost soothing in its familiarity, but his mind refused to quiet. His thoughts turned to Jayce. “Maybe tomorrow,” he murmured to himself, “he’ll be less busy with the council. We could finally revisit those projects we started for the fumes in the undercity.”
That idea had been one of Viktor’s earliest dreams—something he’d eagerly shared with Jayce when their partnership had deepened. Jayce had asked about his condition once, curious but kind, and Viktor had explained, not just about his illness, but about the environment that he had grown up in. The undercity’s air was heavy with toxins, its water sources tainted and rarely reliable. The health of its people suffered greatly, but no one in Piltover seemed to care enough.
Viktor had proposed a solution: a method to help purify the air and water in a way that was both sustainable and permanent. It was ambitious, like most of his ideas, but it stemmed from a deep belief that change was possible. He’d always imagined that if the undercity had access to cleaner air, clean water, and better opportunities, its people wouldn’t be forced into desperate choices—like the rising overuse of shimmer. He also believed that narrowing the disparities between the undercity and Piltover could help mend their fractured relationship, even if only a little.
Viktor understood why so many in the undercity hated the "topsiders." Their anger was justified—rooted in years of suffering, prejudice, inequality and neglect. He felt it too, a quiet ember that still burned within him. But he had chosen to channel that fire into something more. Holding onto that anger alone wouldn’t bring the change he dreamed of. Long ago, he’d resolved to dedicate himself to finding solutions—to use his mind and his work to ensure that others wouldn’t have to endure the same hardships they had.
He sighed softly as he continued down the hall, his steps slowing. He wanted to see it someday: an undercity that thrived, where children could attend schools, and families could build better lives. That dream had kept him going, even on the days when exhaustion weighed him down. He knew it was idealistic, perhaps even naive, but he clung to it all the same. If he could contribute even a small part to such a future, it would make all the struggles worth it.
As Viktor stepped out, the rhythmic tap of his crutch against the floor echoed softly around him. He paused, catching faint whispers drifting through the stillness. His ears pricked, and his heart gave a little jolt as he thought he recognized the voice. Jayce.
Curiosity—or perhaps something deeper—nudged him forward. “Maybe he’s also working late,” Viktor mused to himself, though doubt crept in just as quickly. He knew better than to hope too much. Perhaps Jayce was still looking into that corruption case.
The memory of their argument resurfaced, unbidden and sharp.
“You could have turned it down,” Viktor had said, his voice tight with frustration.
“It’s not something I wanted,” Jayce had replied, his tone almost defensive. “But it’s a great opportunity—maybe it’ll help us get better funding for our projects.”
At the time, Viktor hadn’t known what to say to that. It wasn’t entirely wrong, was it? More resources, more influence… those could be useful. But even then, Jayce had taken the position, leaving Viktor to shoulder the work they’d started together—most of the time, alone. Worse, it felt as if their research—their shared passion—had become an afterthought.
He knew it was childish to feel like this. Selfish, even. But he couldn’t help it. Jayce’s promotion to the council hadn’t just changed their work; it had changed them. At first, Viktor had told himself it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps there was merit in Jayce’s new role. Perhaps it would all balance out in time.
But time had only proved him wrong. These days, Jayce was almost never around, and when he was, he always seemed preoccupied with what he called “more pressing matters.” The words lingered in Viktor’s mind, a bitter reminder of how far they had drifted.
Viktor shook his head, trying to chase away the unwelcome feeling that swirled in his chest as he made his way toward the soft glow of the hallway ahead. He told himself it was nothing—just exhaustion and misplaced frustration. But as he approached the corner, the faint murmur of voices stopped him in his tracks. One of them was unmistakably Jayce’s.
He hesitated, gripping his crutch tighter as he lingered in the shadow of the corridor. The other voices became clearer as he edged closer.
“Very grateful for your offer, Councilor Talis,” a woman said, her tone smooth and self-assured. “Surprisingly, you are shaping up to be a better addition to such an important position than we expected.”
Another voice joined in—one Viktor immediately recognized. Councilor Medarda. “Don’t underestimate him just because he’s young, Amara,” she said, her words tinged with amusement.
Jayce laughed, a sound that felt strangely foreign in this context. Viktor peeked around the corner and saw him extending his hand for a firm shake. “So glad to see that you’re satisfied with the deal we agreed upon,” Jayce said warmly, his tone as polished as his practiced smile.
The scene hit Viktor like a sudden chill. His blood felt colder with every word that followed, though he barely registered them. A deal? With Amara, a powerful merchant guild figure? And Medarda, who seemed all too comfortable in these covert dealings? Questions swirled in his mind, louder than the conversation itself.
He didn’t remember retreating from the hall, nor the walk back to his quarters. When Viktor finally came to, he was sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the scattered pages and unlit lamp before him. His thoughts, loud and relentless, refused to settle. Was it anger, betrayal, confusion? Perhaps all three.
Jayce had told him so little lately, brushing past questions with vague reassurances about "progress" and "responsibilities." Was this what he had meant? Negotiating deals with other people like Amara behind closed doors?
The more Viktor tried to reason through it, the more his exhaustion pulled at him, heavy ans unrelenting. He pressed his hands to his face, as if that could block out what he had seen and heard. It didn’t. When he finally lay down, his mind refused to quiet, and when sleep finally claimed him, it was fitful and uneasy.
Viktor woke up feeling worse than before, his body heavy and his head pounding. He couldn’t recall if he had dreamed, but the unease from the previous night still clung to him like a smothering weight. As he sat up, the memory of the conversation resurfaced with unnerving clarity. How was he supposed to confront Jayce about this? And even if he could, would he get a straight answer?
Viktor steeled himself and began his daily routine, every movement deliberate, as though going through the motions might steady his mind. He needed to focus, needed to act as though everything was normal—as though he wasn’t grappling with the realization that his partner was not only complicit but actively contributing to the very corruption he had vowed to fight against.
“Has he really changed that much in such a short time?” Viktor wondered, his brow furrowing as he splashed cold water on his face. The sharp chill jolted him awake, but it did little to wash away the weight pressing heavily on his chest
The hours blurred together as he threw himself into work, reviewing notes and papers with Sky’s help. She worked methodically, her quiet efficiency a small relief amidst the turmoil in his mind. They were nearly finished organizing everything when Jayce arrived, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Viktor stiffened instinctively, his mind snapping back to the conversation he’d accidentally overheard. He realized, with a pang of frustration, that he hadn’t thought of how to approach it—he’d been so focused on pushing it to the back of his mind that now, faced with Jayce, he felt unprepared.
Sky noticed his sudden shift in demeanor, her hands pausing mid-motion as she stacked a pile of notes. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.
“It’s nothing,” Viktor replied quickly, forcing his voice to remain steady. “You’ve done enough for today. I can handle the rest, so go ahead and head home early.”
Sky hesitated, her gaze lingering on him as if searching for a crack in his calm exterior. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind staying to finish up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Viktor said, his tone soft but firm. “Thank you, Ms. Young. Your help is always appreciated.”
She nodded, still looking slightly unsure, but she gathered her things and left the room without further protest.
As she left, Viktor turned back to Jayce, who was busy adjusting his jacket and smoothing his hair in the mirror. He seemed cheerful today—so much so that it made Viktor’s stomach twist uncomfortably. How could Jayce look so at ease?
Viktor drew a breath and tried to speak, gesturing to the table where he’d made progress on one of their shared projects. “Listen, I’ve been working on—”
“Sorry, there’s a council emergency meeting today,” Jayce interrupted, not even glancing his way. His tone was brisk as he straightened his collar. “I don’t think now’s a good time. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” He softened his voice slightly as he turned his head just enough to meet Viktor’s gaze.
“Jayce, this is important. Could you come by later, even if it’s late?” Viktor asked, his tone betraying a trace of desperation he couldn’t quite suppress. “I’ll probably still be here.”
“I can’t tonight,” Jayce said nonchalantly, adjusting his jacket as he spoke. “I agreed to accompany Mel to the theater again. We’re meeting someone there, and apparently, I need to be present.”
Viktor blinked, the casual mention of her name catching him off guard. “Mel?” he thought. “Since when does he call her that?” The familiarity stung more than he cared to admit. He felt so out of the loop, so sidelined, that the drive to continue the conversation drained out of him entirely.
“Sure, Jayce. Whatever,” Viktor said flatly as he reached for his crutch. “I’m going to consult an acquaintance about some doubts I have regarding my calculations.”
“Okay,” Jayce replied, his attention still fixed elsewhere.
Viktor paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “By the way, have you seen Heimerdinger lately?” he asked, his tone softening. “I wanted to apologize for how we reacted during our last disagreement. His intentions were good, and we may have been too harsh.”
Jayce hesitated, his silence stretching just long enough to make Viktor think he hadn’t heard him. Viktor turned back, intending to repeat the question, but Jayce finally spoke. “He took a few days off from the council, so I’m not sure.”
Viktor froze, his frown deepening as he fully turned to face him. “Heimerdinger? Taking days off? That doesn’t sound like him at all.” His voice carried an edge of concern now, his thoughts racing. “Did he find something he wanted to research? That’s the only thing I can think of that would make him do such a thing.”
“Not sure,” Jayce said curtly, still avoiding eye contact.
Viktor studied him for a long moment, but Jayce’s evasiveness was hard to read. On another occasion, Viktor might have picked up on the tension in Jayce’s posture or the way his words seemed carefully measured. But these last few days, their relationship had been so strained and distant that Viktor chalked the exchange up to Jayce being distracted.
As Viktor turned and left the room, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of Heimerdinger’s absence more than ever. The yordle had been a mentor to both of them, but for Viktor, it had always felt more personal. Heimerdinger had been the one to see his potential when few others did, giving him the chance to pursue his studies and strive toward his dreams. Now, with Heimerdinger gone, Viktor couldn’t shake the unsettling sense that something was deeply wrong, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The thought lingered, growing heavier with every step he took. He needed something to keep his mind occupied.
That was when he decided to visit Singed. It had been a long time, and though he still didn’t agree with the old man’s methods, desperation had convinced him that asking a few questions couldn’t hurt.
He crossed the bridge and continued walking, his thoughts swirling as the streets of the undercity stretched before him like a labyrinth. Flickering lights cast jagged patterns across the cracked pavement, and the faint hum of distant machinery filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hiss of steam or the metallic clang of unseen work.
Viktor gripped his crutch tightly as he navigated the uneven streets, the steady tap of metal against stone blending seamlessly with the industrial symphony around him, even as his mind drifted elsewhere.
Jayce’s voice still echoed in his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to push the memory away, but it lingered, mixing with the ever-present pressure of his worsening health and the council’s suffocating policies.
He barely registered the figures watching him from a corner.
“Look at this guy,” one of them muttered, his voice low and raspy, his movements jittery. “Academy uniform. Bet he’s got money.”
Another figure stepped forward, his shoulders hunched as he studied Viktor’s uneven gait, his leg brace, and the crutch in his hand. “Easy pickings, right?” he said, his voice carrying a faint tremor as he glanced at the one next to him.
The third man sneered, his tone laced with mockery. “Let’s see what he’s hiding in those fancy pockets.”
Viktor didn’t notice them until they were directly in his path. His steps faltered as three figures emerged from the shadows, their clothes ragged and their expressions sharp.
“Well, well,” one of them said, his grin full of malice. “What’s an academy man like you doing down here? Lose your way, professor?”
Viktor stopped, his fingers tightening on the handle of his crutch. He scanned their faces, calculating his next move. “I have nothing of value,” he said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.
“Nothing of value?” the first man repeated. “Then you won’t mind if we check for ourselves.”
One of the others lunged toward him, Viktor swung his crutch, the metal colliding with the man’s forearm. He stumbled back with a grunt, but the others pressed forward.
“What’s wrong, friend? Lose your balance?” another spat, shoving Viktor hard. Viktor’s back hit the rough brick wall, the impact forcing a sharp gasp as he stumbled.
The first man closed in, grabbing at Viktor’s collar. “Let’s see how tough you are without that stick,” he growled, wrenching the crutch from Viktor’s grasp and tossing it aside.
The man to Viktor’s left swung suddenly, his fist slamming into Viktor’s side. Pain shot through his ribs, forcing him to double over.
“Not so tough now, huh?” the attacker sneered, grabbing a fistful of Viktor’s hair to keep him from crumpling to the ground.
Viktor struggled to break free, his hands clawing at the man’s grip, but the third attacker stepped in, shoving him hard against the wall again. The rough brick scraped his shoulder, and then there was a flash of movement followed by a sharp pain erupting in his side as the man’s dagger struck. Viktor’s body tensed instinctively, his breath catching, but he didn’t collapse. Through the haze of pain, he felt a part of his back brace stopping the blade from plunging deeper.
The first man leaned closer, his grin faltering. “Stay still, and we won’t make it worse for you,” he said, his voice low but tense, as if angered by Viktor’s continued resistance.
Viktor gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain and trying once more to shove the man away. His body trembled with the effort, but the man was too strong. Frustrated by Viktor’s defiance, the attacker huffed and swung his fist, landing a sharp blow to Viktor’s head with the dagger’s hilt.
Pain exploded across Viktor’s skull as the world tilted and his vision blurred. He collapsed to the ground, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. Rough hands rummaged through his pockets until a loud voice cut through the haze.
“Oi! What are you doing?”
Through the blur in his senses, Viktor felt the hands withdraw and heard the sound of footsteps approaching with urgency.
“Hey, you okay?” The voice was deep and steady, but Viktor slipped into unconsciousness before he could respond.