Knots of the Past
Just like every other day since he’d been cleared from bed rest, Viktor got dressed and made his way up the stairs toward Ekko’s workshop. As usual, Heimerdinger was already there, humming to himself while fine-tuning a small device.
At first, it was awkward. Viktor wasn’t someone easily bothered by the way others looked at him—he had long grown used to the sidelong glances and whispered comments. But here, it felt different. Members of the Firelights and some other refugees openly stared when they thought he wouldn’t notice. Some didn’t even bother to hide their distrust, and their wariness hung in the air.
It didn’t take Viktor long to recognize the difference. These weren’t the same judgmental looks he’d endured in Piltover; they weren’t appraising his appearance or dismissing him outright. Instead, these glances carried something closer to fear. They were worried he might bring danger with him, and Viktor could empathize with that. Given their circumstances, their caution made sense.
Scar’s presence had likely helped keep things civil. Viktor suspected the tall Vastaya’s watchful gaze deterred anyone from saying or doing anything. Scar had apparently been assigned as the one to keep an eye on Viktor, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful, at least he kind of knew him now, it was better than a complete stranger following him around.
At first Viktor had assumed it would take weeks, even months, to build any sort of trust with others here. He hadn’t expected the tide to shift so quickly.
Perhaps he wasn’t as good at assessing people as he thought. Within a matter of days, distrust had given way to tentative acceptance. Helping Heimerdinger repair various pieces of machinery and working together with Ekko to improve the water and air filtration systems had gone a long way toward easing the tension. The work kept Viktor busy, and in doing so, he’d shown the community what he could offer.
And it felt… different. Viktor rarely got the chance to see the direct impact of his inventions. In the lab, breakthroughs were exhilarating, a step toward his larger goal, but the results always felt distant, abstract. Here, though, a simple repair could change someone’s day. A small fix, something that could be deemed insignificant by other’s standards, suddenly felt monumental when he saw the effect.
One moment, in particular, struck a chord. A Firelight member had thanked him profusely for fixing their water heater. Viktor had waved it off at first, dismissing it as nothing. But then their child began jumping around, singing excitedly about taking a bath while holding the adult’s hand. Viktor sat quietly, watching them leave, a subtle warmth settling in his chest.
How could I forget this? Viktor thought. In his mind Heimerdinger’s words echoed: “I lacked perspective.”
Now, Viktor understood. In his desperation to achieve something great, he had lost sight of the smaller ways he could make a difference. His singular focus on the Hexcore, on some monumental discovery, had blinded him to the impact of these simpler, tangible acts. And in his declining health, his urgency had only made that tunnel vision worse.
The days continued to pass, and as his injuries healed and his strength returned, Viktor spent more and more of his time tinkering. His hands moved with purpose, his thoughts drifting, circling, and occasionally landing on ideas he hadn’t considered before.
One of these days, as he worked, Viktor found himself reflecting on other things, too—things he had avoided thinking about before. He wasn’t the best when it came to interpersonal relationships; he knew that much. But now, with his mind clearer, he couldn’t help but realize that he had played a part in the growing rift between him and Jayce.
In his pain and resentment, Viktor had distanced himself. He hadn’t tried to address the tension between them because he’d already convinced himself it was pointless, that Jayce wouldn’t listen. It had been easier to place all the blame on him than to consider that Jayce might be struggling too.
Lost in thought, Viktor didn’t notice Ekko approaching until the younger man nudged him gently with an elbow.
“Hey,” Ekko said, his tone light. “You’re looking less serious today. Good sign?” Viktor blinked, startled, before offering a faint smile. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “I’ve been... occupied.”
“Occupied, huh? That’s one way to put it.” Ekko grinned, then leaned casually against the bench. “You know, when we talked the other day… I was worried you’d feel trapped. Like you’d hate being stuck here with us. I’m glad you seem… happier?”
Viktor tilted his head, considering the words. “I do feel better. Seeing how the things I’ve worked on here are helping—it helped me remember where I started I guess.”
Ekko’s eyes softened. “Glad to hear that, because having another genius around has been a lifesaver. Heimer’s great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only so much one person can do when everything around here is held together by hope and some screws.” He joked.
Viktor chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “You underestimate yourself,” he said, “Look at what you’ve made possible here.”
“Maybe,” Ekko said, pushing off the bench. “But seriously, it’s good to see you settling in. I know you want to leave, but please wait until things calm down a little, things are hectic topside” he continued as he looked him in the eye. “And in the meantime, we really appreciate your help here.”
Viktor smiled as a response. He knew Ekko was right but a part of him couldn’t help being a little impatient. It was a flaw he was well aware of—one he struggled to quiet, even now.
Still the conversation left Viktor feeling lighter as he continued his work of the day.
Later that night, after retreating to the improvised room they had provided him, Viktor sat at the small desk. The flickering lamplight cast long, dancing shadows over the walls as he resumed an activity that had become his nightly ritual: writing down his thoughts, observations, and plans in his worn notebook.
His pen scratched softly against the paper, as words filled the page. Most nights he wrote about different ideas that occurred to him during the day—small projects he could start, improvements to ongoing work. But tonight, his focus turned elsewhere.
Viktor found himself drafting how he might approach Jayce when they met again. The anger and frustration he had felt toward his partner hadn’t disappeared, but Viktor wanted to be purposeful. He didn’t want to let those emotions control the conversation. He had points he needed to address, but more than anything, he wanted to mend what had been damaged between them.
As he finished the latest draft of his notes, Viktor leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. This place felt nostalgic, almost like home, and he found a surprising comfort in the people who surrounded him now. But even with all the progress he’d made here, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness left by Jayce’s absence.
Ekko’s brilliance and Heimerdinger’s wisdom were invaluable, but Viktor missed his partner. He missed Jayce.
Viktor’s head bent low over the hoverboard as he made the final adjustments to the stabilizer. He barely noticed Scar’s shadow looming over him until the taller man’s voice broke the silence.
“Did you eat today?” Scar asked, arms crossed and brow raised in the way Viktor had come to recognize as his no-nonsense expression.
Viktor didn’t look up as he continued to work. “I ate breakfast,” he replied distractedly, though even he knew how unconvincing that sounded.
“That was hours ago,” Scar said. He stepped closer, tapping Viktor’s workbench pointedly. “You’re not a machine, you know. You need to eat.”
Viktor sighed and put his tools down, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re starting to sound less like my watchman and more like an annoying older brother.”
Scar shrugged, clearly unfazed. “If you were better at taking care of yourself, I wouldn’t have to be so annoying.”
Viktor huffed a small laugh. “Sure.”
He had grown surprisingly close to the Vastaya man over the past days. Scar, initially assigned to watch over him, had been tasked with ensuring Viktor didn’t leave or do anything to endanger the Firelights or their hideout. But as Scar got to know him, his role started to shift. He no longer shadowed Viktor out of suspicion but out of concern—and, apparently, frustration.
Scar had quickly noticed Viktor’s disconcerting lack of self-care. At first, he’d tried reasoning with him, pointing out the obvious: “You can’t keep working nonstop, your body’s going to give out on you.” But it hadn’t taken long for Scar to realize that arguing with someone as stubborn as Viktor was a losing battle. So, instead, he simply took matters into his own hands.
Whether it was making sure Viktor ate regularly, forcing him to take breaks, or dragging him away from the workshop when he stayed up too late, Scar had become a constant presence in his routine. Viktor didn’t want to admit it, but the interruptions helped. They forced him to maintain some semblance of balance. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t find Scar’s hovering irritating—especially when it pulled him away from something he was deeply engrossed in.
It was that very annoyance that Viktor had begun to turn into amusement. If Scar was going to nag him like an older brother, Viktor figured he might as well lean into the role of the exasperating younger one. He found a certain satisfaction in teasing Scar, who always seemed caught somewhere between worry and barely concealed exasperation.
“You’re more persistent than any guard I’ve ever met,” Viktor had remarked once as Scar blocked the workshop door with crossed arms and an unyielding glare.
“And you’re worse than any stubborn person I’ve ever dealt with,” Scar had shot back, his tone exasperated but light, free of any real anger.
Over time, their exchanges had become part of Viktor’s day-to-day life. The Vastaya’s sharp green eyes seemed to always be watching, making sure Viktor didn’t neglect himself entirely. For all his grumbling, Viktor couldn’t deny there was a certain comfort in knowing Scar was looking out for him. It was… nice, having someone care enough to keep an eye on him like that. It had been a long time since anyone had done that for him, Viktor thought as he quickly pushed the image of Jayce from his mind.
Later in the afternoon, Scar stood by the workbench as he watched Viktor double-check the hoverboard before returning it. Scar leaned casually but his sharp green eyes followed Viktor’s precise movements.
“You know,” Scar began, breaking the silence, “you’ve made some impressive tweaks to these. Not that they weren’t solid before, but now… I’m curious. Are they faster?”
Viktor glanced up, catching the glimmer of curiosity in Scar’s expression. A sly grin tugged at his lips. “If you’re so curious, I could take a look at your board. Fix it up. Improve it.”
Scar snorted, his ears twitching slightly with amusement. “You just want more work to bury yourself in, don’t you, workaholic?”
Viktor chuckled softly “I simply want to make you indebted to me, so you owe me.” he replied, handing over the repaired hoverboard.
Scar laughed. “Progress, at least you’re not denying the workaholic part anymore.”
Viktor shook his head as Scar headed out the door.
By the time Scar had delivered the board and returned it was late. Most of the people had already eaten and retreated to their quarters, leaving the space quiet. Viktor had been planning to skip dinner entirely, but Scar, true to form, had dragged him along to a communal dining area.
“You’re healing and feeling better,” Scar said as he slid a plate in front of Viktor, his tone firm but not harsh. “But that’s not a reason to stop resting or eating.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Viktor said, raising an eyebrow as he picked up a fork.
Scar sighed, shaking his head. “Barely. I know how you get when you’re focused. Hours go by, and you forget the world exists.”
The words hit Viktor unexpectedly. For a moment, they sounded exactly like something Jayce had said to him once, during one of their late-night lab sessions. The memory left a faint ache in Viktor’s chest, and his gaze drifted down to the table.
Scar noticed immediately. “Something wrong?” he asked carefully.
Viktor shook his head quickly. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Just… a passing thought.”
Scar hesitated but chose not to push further, his gaze focusing on his own plate. He figured if Viktor didn’t want to share, it wasn’t his place to pry.
They finished their dinner in silence. Later that night, for the first time in days, Viktor left his notebook untouched. He undressed and removed his brace absentmindedly before lying down. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
The quiet of the early morning shattered with the sound of hurried footsteps and muffled voices near one of the settlement’s entrances. Viktor, who had already been up and had started tinkering with a small project, grabbed his crutch, stood up and began making his way toward the commotion.
By the time he arrived, a crowd had already started to gather. At the center of it stood Ekko, flanked by a small group of Firelights. He carried a cylindrical container by its strap in one hand, his grip tight, while two others dragged a pair of unconscious figures, burlap sacks covering their heads.
Viktor’s gaze lingered on Ekko, who seemed to radiate a rare intensity. His face was set in a grim expression—a mixture of surprise, determination and anger. Viktor had grown used to Ekko’s usual demeanor, somewhat calm and confident. This was different, this was the look of someone who had seen something troubling.
The group parted slightly as Ekko stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. His voice, steady but heavy with meaning, cut through the murmur of the crowd.
“We’ve got a situation,” he announced, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Ekko tapped his foot against the floor, his feelings stirring with each tap as he pressed a hand to his knee, trying to keep his leg still. His mind was a mess. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d encountered Jinx again so soon after their last confrontation. No, this time, the universe had thrown him another curveball: Vi.
Vi, who he had thought was dead.
The revelation alone had been enough to shake him, but then there was the enforcer. A Piltie, standing at Vi’s side as if they were… allies? Friends? Ekko had been too stunned to even process it fully and he’d made the call to bring them both back to the settlement, but now all was catching up with him.
He leaned forward, pressing his fingers to his temple. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered, his voice low and strained, the words more for himself than anyone else.
Vi was alive. The thought alone sent his emotions spiraling—relief, anger, confusion. While they’d struggled, while Powder had turned into Jinx and the world he knew fell apart, where had Vi been?
His foot stilled for a moment as his gaze dropped to the floor. Was she living in Piltover? Had she left them behind, abandoned the undercity to side with the very people who had oppressed them?
The thought made the knot on his chest tighten. He couldn’t reconcile it. Vi had hated Piltover. She’d hated the enforcers. The Vi he remembered would never have stood beside one of them willingly. But…
His thoughts drifted to Jinx. Powder. The girl he’d once known was long gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable. The memory of her, firing wildly at them and her expression flashed in his mind. Ekko exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push back the avalanche of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him.
People change.
His anger flared again, hot and sharp. Ekko shot to his feet and started to walk around the small room. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to make sense of it all, but the more he thought about it, the more his confusion fed his anger.
He’d lost Powder, and now Vi… He’d found her, but was she gone too?
He left the room, his stride tense, heading toward the place where Vi and the enforcer woman were being held. Vi had been moved to a separate room—he’d insisted on that. He needed answers, needed to know why she was there, and what she was doing with Jinx.
As he approached, he noticed the guards standing at the door. Ekko took a deep breath, trying to settle the chaos inside. He adjusted his mask, the familiar weight grounding him, giving him the sense of control he intensely needed.
“Open it,” he said, his voice low but firm. “And keep an eye on the other one.”
The guards exchanged a glance before nodding, the door groaning as it swung open. Ekko stepped inside, his gaze immediately locking onto Vi.
Vi sat there, her hands bound behind her back, her head tilted slightly as she looked up at him. Even with the years that had passed, even with the sharper edges time had carved into her, there was no mistake it was her. It was Vi. But that only made everything harder.
Ekko removed his mask, keeping his expression controlled as he held up the cylindrical container with the glowing blue gemstone. His voice carried a sharp edge, distrust barely concealed.
“What do you know about this?” he asked, showing her the gem.
Her expression remained calm, though her eyes narrowed slightly. “Nothing,” Vi replied. “I don’t know what that is.”
In the conversation that followed, Ekko pressed for answers, his voice edged with frustration and disbelief. Vi met his questions with steady determination, explaining her presence with Caitlyn and her relentless search for Powder. Her words carried a hope that Ekko found almost unbearable.
“She’s still in there,” Vi had insisted, her voice firm with conviction. “My sister is not gone. I know it.”
Ekko’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. A part of him—a fragile, buried part—wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that the girl he had cared about still existed somewhere inside Jinx. But how could he let himself hope for that? He had repeated it to himself too many times to count: Powder is gone. It’s just Jinx now.
Having hope felt dangerous. It would hurt too much to cling to it, only to watch it crumble. He didn’t want to feel that kind of pain again.
Ekko forced his expression to remain neutral, though his emotions stormed beneath the surface. Vi’s faith in her sister was unshakable and in a way it made him angry—angry that she could believe in something he had been too afraid to hope for, angry that her conviction threatened the fragile wall he had built around his heart.
Vi’s faith in her sister was unshakable, and that made him angry—angry that she could believe in something he had been too afraid to hope for, angry that her conviction threatened the fragile wall he had built around his heart.
Later, Ekko found himself standing outside the room where Vi’s enforcer companion, Caitlyn, was being held. His earlier conversation with Vi still weighed heavily on him. He’d been trying to keep his emotions in check after his conversation with her, but it didn’t take long for the tension to bubble over.
Caitlyn’s calm, almost dismissive reaction to his accounts of enforcer brutality had been the breaking point.
“You don’t know what it’s like down here,” Ekko said sharply. “The enforcers work with Silco. They’re the ones who keep us down. They kill us, take bribes, they—”
“That’s not possible,” Caitlyn interrupted, her brows furrowing as if he’d just spoken nonsense.
“Say that one more time and see what happens.” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing as he glared directly into hers.
Caitlyn stiffened, her expression a mix of defensiveness and discomfort. “I don’t believe they’d all do that,” she said quietly. “It’s not—”
“Not all of them?” Ekko scoffed. “Tell me, how many would it take for you to believe me? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?” His voice dropped lower, a controlled fury burning in his words.
Caitlyn faltered, clearly struggling to process what he was saying. Her privileged life in Piltover had shielded her from the harsh reality of the undercity, and now, faced with Ekko’s accusations, she looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and discomfort, unsure how to respond.
“I didn’t know…” she murmured, her voice trailing off.
Ekko shook his head, his frustration flaring again. “You didn’t want to know,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less bitter. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension and unspoken truths neither seemed ready to face.
The sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by the faint tap of a crutch against the floor, broke the stillness. Both turned toward the noise as Viktor approached, his gaze flicking between them with quiet curiosity.
The tension shifted when Viktor approached the group. Caitlyn’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Viktor?” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same,” Viktor replied, his tone calm but curious. “Though I suppose we all have reasons for ending up in unexpected places.”
The familiarity between Caitlyn and Viktor didn’t escape Ekko’s notice. His brow furrowed as he asked, “You two know each other?”
Caitlyn nodded, her expression softening slightly. “Through Jayce,” she said. “He’s… a close friend.”
Viktor glanced at Ekko. “You can trust her,” he said simply. “If Caitlyn is here, it’s for a good reason.”
Ekko hesitated, his gaze shifting between Viktor and Caitlyn. He respected Viktor and valued Vi’s judgment, but trust didn’t come easily—especially not for an enforcer. Still, he nodded, though the gesture was reluctant. He’d give Caitlyn a chance, but only because Viktor and Vi vouched for her. His guard wasn’t down, not yet, but he was willing to listen.
The group’s attention shifted to the gemstone. Viktor immediately recognized it and suggested something similar to what Caitlyn had said in their previous conversation.
“This could be an opportunity,” he said. “If we bring it to the council, it might open the door to a conversation. Caitlyn and I both know people who could listen.”
Caitlyn nodded emphatically as Viktor continued to explain. “Caitlyn’s family name and seat on the council, combined with Jayce’s influence, might give us a chance to make our case.”
Ekko folded his arms, his expression skeptical. “Are you sure we can trust this Jayce guy? From what I’ve heard, he’s no different from the other self-righteous idiots on the council.”
Viktor hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting Ekko’s eyes. “Jayce is not perfect,” he admitted, “but one thing I’m certain of is that he wants to do good. If anyone on the council will listen to reason, it’s him.”
Ekko’s eyes narrowed as he considered this. He wasn’t ready to put faith in the Kiramman name or Piltover’s golden boy, but Viktor’s words carried weight. After a moment, he exhaled. “Fine,” he said begrudgingly. “But don’t expect me to trust them completely just because you do. I’m going with you, and I’ll be the one to bring this to them.”
Together, they left the hideout and made their way toward the bridge, taking a quieter, less-traveled path. The group was small—Vi, Caitlyn, Viktor, and Ekko—just the four of them. That way it was easier to go unnoticed.
Ekko hung back slightly, his eyes following Vi and Caitlyn as they walked ahead. He hadn’t noticed it as much before, but now it was obvious—the way Vi glanced at Caitlyn, the subtle shifts in their body language, and the unspoken tension between them. They’re close, he thought. More than allies, it seems. The realization gave him pause. If Caitlyn had earned that kind of trust from Vi… maybe there was more to her than Ekko had assumed. Even if she was an enforcer.
Viktor caught up to Caitlyn, seemingly intent on striking up a conversation. Vi slowed her pace slightly, giving them space, though she stayed close beside Caitlyn.
Ekko listened as Viktor asked Caitlyn about Jayce. She shook her head, her expression clouding. “We haven’t spoken in a while,” she admitted. She explained how they had argued after her parents had pulled strings to remove her from her enforcer role, and how Jayce had tried to offer her a desk job to keep her safe.
“I was furious at the time,” she said. “I felt belittled.”
Viktor gave her a knowing look. “He was worried about you,” he said simply. “Jayce considers you part of his family. He always talks about you like his little sister. I’m sure he only wanted to help.”
Caitlyn seemed taken aback, her expression softening as Viktor’s words sank in. “Really?” she said quietly, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. “I suppose I should’ve known that.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, her frustration at the memory giving way to something more like reflection.
“And he’d be worried sick if he knew you were in such a dangerous situation,” Viktor added with a small smile.
Caitlyn glanced at him, something in his words clearly resonating. “And you, Viktor?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a quiet sincerity. “How would he feel if he knew what you’ve been through?”
Viktor didn’t respond immediately. His gaze turned distant, lingering on the road ahead as the firelights flitted around them, their soft glow gently illuminating the path. “Probably the same,” he said at last, his voice quieter, laced with an unspoken weight. “But… hopefully we’ll have the chance to explain everything soon.”
As the group approached the bridge, a chill seemed to settle in the air. The city felt too quiet, the kind of quiet that made Viktor glance over his shoulder and Ekko tighten his grip on the gemstone container.
Vi’s footsteps slowed, then stopped entirely. She turned to face them, her resolve etched into every line of her expression. “I’m staying,” she said. “I need to go find my sister.”
Ekko froze, studying her face. There was no hesitation, no doubt. A pang of envy stabbed through him.
Caitlyn stepped forward, her voice soft. “Vi…” But she stopped herself, the words unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Instead, she hugged Vi tightly, holding on as if she could keep her there through sheer will.
Vi’s goodbyes lingered only a moment before spotlights flooded the bridge with a harsh, blinding light. Ekko shielded his eyes, his pulse spiking as the shadows ahead shifted into the unmistakable forms of enforcers. Weapons aimed at them, and at their helm, Marcus.
Ekko’s stomach twisted at the sight of the man’s face. That face was burned into his memory, the same face that had stood as Benzo and so many others had died.
He clenched his fists, but before he could react everything turned into chaos.
“Get down!” Ekko shouted as the first gunshot cracked through the air. His body moved on instinct, dodging to the side. Pain flared in his side—a bullet had grazed him—but he didn’t stop. Caitlyn turned back to Vi, shouting something he couldn’t hear through the ringing in his ears.
Then came the explosions, a rapid series of blasts that rattled the bridge and filled the air with smoke. Ekko stumbled to his feet, his head spinning, clutching his side. His hoverboard had been flung aside, but his attention wasn’t on the wreckage or the enforcers. It was on her.
Jinx.
She stood there, her weapon was already in hand, her eyes darting between them—lingering on Vi, then Caitlyn, and finally Ekko. For a moment, he froze. Her expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between disbelief and fury.
Instinct took over as Ekko’s mind cleared. He grabbed his hoverboard and lunged toward her. He didn’t want to hurt her—he never truly had—but he couldn’t let her pull the trigger. Not again.
He closed the distance swiftly, every nerve in his body taut. He was almost there when a rifle shot rang out. Ekko’s breath hitched as he watched Jinx’s body jolt, the bullet striking her. For a moment, time seemed to stop.
“JINX!” Ekko shouted, his voice raw and desperate. All animosity was forgotten, replaced by a single, pleading thought: Please don’t. Don’t die.