Dark cold room, full of death and desperation for something greater, and every goddamned night, it grows larger, and one of these sunday matine's, he's sure it'll swallow and cramp and squash whatever's left of his bones, that is if the Hex Core doesn't absorb him first.

What else is he supposed to do? There’s nothing for him where the light shines, he should have learned that when he was born on the wrong side of the waterfall, the wrong side of the tracks, born wronged by his own body, failing him at every step he couldn't take anymore. No good came from anything he's done, he's sure, and the opportunities to make right by his inventions and get some type of unwanted yet deserved recognition is already slipping from his fingers like sand from the watersides of the undercity. It’s dirty and it's littered.

The door opened, letting the cast of the hallway in, you could sharply make out Viktor’s silhouette behind the sickeningly powerful glow of the Hextech. His hands gripping the work table, with little might, his body slowly eating away itself.

"I think I'll stay overnight again." He mumbled out of force of habit, his eyes fixed on the Hex Core in front of him, shining blue, obssesive and pained. Alone and abandoned, taking yet another try at it, jumping another gap, left to no colleague to save, but maybe, just maybe, it's not too late for you to try and be there for him.