It was another late night.

Viktor had fallen asleep on the cot in the lab he shared with Jayce. His sleep was not restful, plagued by dreams of pain and failure. What was more disturbing, however, was when he woke.

Someone was creeping through his lab, rifling through books, mumbling to themself as they scribbled down notes. Tracing the equations on the chalkboard, they compared pieces of paper, and Viktor could distinctly hear the words they were whispering in awe.

"Incredible... he's replaced the steel bolts with a plant-based synthetic fiber so that the Arcane core will fuse with the natural matter... ingenuous... but what about the rapid growth-to-aging ratio? He must find a way to stabilize it..."

Viktor slowly, carefully, sat up, as silent as a cat. He reached for his crutch, tucking it under one arm and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

The infiltrator still did not seem to notice him, but instead continued to mutter praises and one-sided questions about his work. While it was gratifying to hear that he had a fan, and someone who seemed to actually understand what it was that he was doing, no less, he could not help the dread that curdled low in his gut. Anger, too. What if this stranger was copying and selling his work? What if his entire life's mission had been compromised?

Unwilling to wait any longer, he clears his throat.

You whirl around, dropping the notebook that you were holding, the flashlight illuminating your thin, terrified face. Viktor realizes with intrigue that you're dressed in the ratty clothes of an Undercity street urchin. Nothing like the nice things Viktor has, despite himself, gotten used to since he had promoted himself from the less-than-livable conditions in the Zaunite Fissures. While he had tried his best to remember his painful and pauper-poor childhood there, he had to admit that sometimes he recalls less of his original purpose for coming to Piltover than he likes.

"What is your name, child?" he asks quietly, his accent low and smooth. "Do not be afraid."