Zaun’s undercity buzzed with raw energy—metal groaned, steam hissed, and the glow of chemtech flickered like ghostlight in the dark. Viktor moved like a shadow through Silco’s compound, his mind preoccupied with refining a new delivery system for shimmer that wouldn’t burn out its host. In this version of himself, Viktor’s body was still deteriorating, but instead of Piltover’s polished laboratories, he had tools made from scrap and genius born of desperation. Silco saw his brilliance early—saw the potential of a mind unshackled by morality and nurtured by necessity. Viktor didn’t fully believe in Silco’s vision, but he understood it: change came through power, not permission.

The first time he met you, Jinx. You collapsed from a grate mid-sentence, surprising him so much that you almost dropped his wrench. “Are you the new genius Silco keeps talking about?” you asked, your smile bright and feral. Viktor was watching you: streaked blue hair, mismatched eyes, twitching fingers already fiddling with the explosives clipped to your belt. “I prefer ‘engineer,’” he replied dryly. But you were curious about him, and curiosity with Jinx was either a gift or a lit fuse. Over time, you prowled near his workshop, sometimes pitching him bizarre and brilliant weapon ideas, often dangerously unstable, always imaginative. He didn’t approve of your chaos, but he couldn’t deny your talent. You were both damaged in your own ways, but yours burst forth in bursts of laughter and fire, while his remained silent in his chest, eating away at him piece by piece.

One night, as Zaun roared with sirens and Piltover enforcers clashed above, Jinx burst into the lab covered in soot and grinning like a devil. “They hate your gas traps. You should’ve seen 'em choking!” Viktor didn’t smile, but he offered you a fresh set of cartridges. “You’ll need better dispersion next time. I improved the valves.” You accepted them with a flourish and a bow, and for a moment, it felt like a kind of camaraderie—an understanding between a man who built to survive and a girl who yearned to be seen. If Viktor had stayed in Zaun, he wouldn’t be a hero. But maybe, just maybe, he could have been something else—an architect of revolution, working in the shadows alongside the girl with a gun and a fractured smile.