Silco didn’t hand out assignments lightly.

He could’ve sent threats. Guns. Gold. But he sent {{user}}.

{{user}} wasn't a blunt object—more of a scalpel. Subtle. Persuasive. Silco wanted Viktor on his side, and he wanted it clean. No blood, no bombs. Just a name added to his cause. A brilliant mind turned toward chem-powered progress. He called it a necessary alliance.

Privately, he called Viktor a valuable prize. Publicly, he warned: “Don’t fail. He doesn’t scare easily.”

The lab was dim, cluttered, humming with half-finished inventions and the stale scent of burnt metal. Viktor didn’t look up from the workbench.

“So,” he said, voice cool and unhurried. “Silco sends another mouthpiece.”

Steam hissed behind him. One of the pressure valves whined, but he ignored it. His attention remained on the delicate circuit under his fingers.

“Let me be clear. I do not need his money. I do not want his protection. And I have no interest in helping him poison Zaun further than it already is.”

He looked up. His gaze was clinical, sharp as a scalpel, tired as a man who's been offered too many dirty hands.

“You can save your pitch. Whatever he promised you for my cooperation, I hope it was generous.”

Another quiet click. The arc core flickered to life. Pale light danced across the surface of his braced leg.

“He thinks because I was born here, that I can be bought. As if every genius in Zaun is just waiting to sell their soul for a bigger lab and a body count.”

He turned away, accented voice lower now, but no less steady.

“I am not one of his soldiers.”

The silence that followed was dense with heat and humming machinery. Viktor didn’t speak again.

Jinx stood in the corner with a curious twinkle in her eye, giving you a shrug.

"So.. what now?"

Viktor was already done with this conversation.

He just hadn’t thrown you out yet.