NOTES:
I feel a little late to the Arcane train, having only watched the series for the first time this past March, BUT HOLY COW! Has it ever lit a fire in my brain. I haven't written a fanfic in years (read as: please be kind to any mistakes and clunkiness below) and I am very excited to feel this inspired again.
Per usual, my favorite character and point of hyper-fixation is everyone's favorite Kingpin-Drug Lord-Rat Man, Silco. I'm a sucker for a well-written, emotionally-conflicted antagonist with a syrupy voice.
Also, I should mention that I am not at all familiar with the League of Legends game. This story is inspired by the Netflix series only, so if there are any inconsistencies with the lore of the game, I apologize.
Like a lot of people, I'm very interested to know what happened to Vander and Silco that led up to the betrayal. And I wanted to give our beloved Rat Man a (complicated) romance because, dang it, he deserves something nice. So, here we go . . .
Disclaimer: I don't own any Arcane/League of Legends characters. If I did Season One wouldn't have ended the way it had.
The Lanes were only quiet during that sleepy time of day just before dawn. Although, 'dawn' was a relative concept dictated mostly by the time on a clock as the sun's rays could barely penetrate the Grey that blanketed the Undercity. Quiet was also a subjective thing, considering that the city was a near constant cacophony of anguish, violence, and machines. The low hum of electricity and occasional cries of suffering or lust in the pre-dawn air were silence enough to starkly contrast the daily din.
And Katya couldn't sleep in it. The 'quiet'. Like a strange non-alarm clock, as the Undercity slowly hushed, her amber eyes cracked open. As unfair as it was to be roused as her neighbors and neighbor's neighbors fell asleep, she knew it was for the best. She and her brother needed to get ready and over the Bridge.
Katya peeled the thread-bare blanket off her body and set her feet on the floor. She flexed and wiggled her toes experimentally before standing, stretching her arms over head and yawning. Gingerly, she shuffled toward the bedroom door and into the dark hallway of the small apartment. She knocked softly on the adjacent door before opening it.
"Viktor? Are you awake?"
The small lump in the bed whined and shifted under the blankets.
"It's time to get up, Viktor," Katya whispered sweetly. "We need to get ready to go. Is your bag packed?"
She reached over and twisted the knob of a small pot-bellied lamp, and it gently hissed to life with dim light washing over the room. Viktor let out a louder, more persistent whine and threw the covers over his head.
"Come on," his sister crooned, stepping forward and gently jostling his blanketed body. "We cannot delay. Your bag, is it ready?"
Another groan, along with a small pale hand emerged from the blanket and gestured vaguely across the room to a large lumpy canvas sack.
"Good," Katya smirked. "Do you need help getting ready?"
Finally, Viktor emerged from his cocoon with an annoyed, "No!"
The smally boy sat up with a huff, worn blanket pooling around him. Katya couldn't help but grin at her younger brother, his chestnut hair unruly with sleep and his amber eyes – so like her own – trying to look venomous through a haze of tiredness.
"Then get up. No dawdling."
Viktor whined at the back of his throat, kicking the blanket away and reaching for the cane leaning against his nightstand. Katya turned the lamp up another tick and left the room. She made her way to the kitchenette, turned on the stove and transformed the hiss of gas into a small ring of blue flames with the strike of a match. She set the old kettle over the heat before turning to the cupboard. Like most in the Undercity, it was near bare. Just a few pieces of chipped flatware, a can of beans, a nearly empty bag of oats, and a small tin of miscellaneous tea bags.
Katya pulled out two bowls and two mugs before her hand reached for the bag of oats. Her stomach dipped at how light it was. She put back one of the bowls. Behind her, she heard the uneven shuffle of Viktor's feet and the 'clunk' of his cane as he made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him with a necessarily forceful shove (it didn't really fit in its frame and the landlord couldn't be bothered to fix it). From the kitchenette, she could make out the sad sputter of the shower as it gargled to life. Closing the cupboard door, Katya walked back down the hallway toward her bedroom. She paused briefly at the bathroom door, dropping her ear toward the thin particle board listening to make sure her brother didn't struggle to get into the shower. The change in the sound of water dripping from the spigot – more muffled against soft skin, than harsh against broken tiles – confirmed Viktor's small success. Satisfied, Katya returned to her room and dressed for the day.
She pulled the tattered, over-sized shirt she slept in over her head, messy bun briefly getting snagged in a hole. She tossed the shirt aside and pulled the elastic from her head, letting her long dark brown hair fall over her shoulders and back. Rustling through her dresser drawers, meagerly filled, Katya pulled out fresh undergarments, a pair of trousers, and a blouse. She shucked off her current underwear and slipped on the fresh ones. She pulled a flimsy, sheering camisole over her head. Brassieres were too expensive. Her last one had bitten the dust a little more than a month ago, and she had sewn it together one too many times before to be bothered with mending it again. Periodically Katya would scour the dumpster behind Babette's, hoping to happen upon a suitable-enough replacement. Alas, all the underthings that had recently been disposed of her nowhere near her size and her seamstress skills were not enough to perform the necessary alterations. She would check again today she told herself, sliding the high-waisted trousers over her wide hips. Katya slid her arms through the collarless linen blouse, buttoned it and tucked its hem into her pants. She reached for an old tweed vest that was hung on her bed post, sliding it over her shoulders and letting it hang unbuttoned around her torso. Before she left her room, she snapped up a tarnished silver pocket watch from her bedside table and tucked it in her vest pocket, securing its chain to one of its buttons.
Katya heard the breathy beginnings of the kettle's wail as she made her way back to the kitchenette. She turned off the burner before the steam could reach an ear shattering crescendo. She placed a tea bag in each mug, emptied the small amount of oats into the bowl, and carefully poured the hot water into each receptacle. As she set the kettle back down on the stove's grates there was a soft, clumsy series of thumps from the bathroom followed by angry murmuring. The tea and oats needed to steep anyway, so Katya made her way to the bathroom door.
She rapped her knuckles against the wood. "Viktor?"
He didn't respond, continuing to mutter to himself. The soft jostle and clinking of leather and brass joined the muffled commentary. There was a muted scrape followed by a sharp smack as Viktor's cane clattered to the floor. The sound made Katya jump and she knocked again.
"Viktor, I'm coming in."
She shoved the door open as her brother made an annoyed plea not to do so. The shower had since been shut off, but the humidity of warm water hung in the air amplifying the space's mildew scent. The boy glared at his older sister, hands gripping the straps of a leather brace awkwardly wrapped around his torso. Katya sighed, swooping down the collect the cane that had clattered to the floor and setting in back against the toilet tank.
Viktor tucked his chin to his chest and swiveled on his stool, his back facing his sister, hands still angrily gripping the fraying ends of his back brace. Katya stepped behind him, giving him a compassionate but authoritative look in the mirror that he peeked up at through wet lashes. Viktor bit the inside of his cheek, the hardened gaze in his eyes softening as he dropped the binds.
Katya gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze and rub before beginning to unbuckle the straps he had gotten crossed. The next time Viktor needed to have his brace replaced, she was going to have the Tanner design one that secured in the front so he could do it himself. She didn't mind helping him, not at all. But she knew how much Viktor wanted to be able to do things himself, how badly he wanted to be as normal and unneedy as he could be. To feel capable and strong like the other children his age. Katya undid the last tangled strap of leather, letting it drape alongside Viktor's ribs next to its neighbors. She wanted her brother to feel capable. Strong. As normal as possible. A challenging task considering his twisted skeleton and deficient immune system. Even over the river in Piltover it could be difficult for a differently-abled and chronically-ill person to remain autonomous – what hope could a crippled Sumprat have?
In fact, some more tactless (but not necessarily wrong) Fissure Folk would say that Viktor was lucky to be alive at the ripe age of eleven. Most babes born with maladies in the Undercity died within their first year; whether by natural causes or at the hands of their scared, grieving and merciful parents. Being born anything but healthy (by Undercity standards) was a death sentence. With the lack of medical resources, abundance of pollution and danger, and the inability to get out from under the chokehold of poverty, children like Viktor died quickly and frequently.
Luckily for Viktor, his and Katya's father was stubbornly (stupidly and cruelly others would say) adamant about keeping his boy alive. His son's body may be a liability, but it didn't have to be a death sentence. Before his untimely death, the elder Slostov gave his son a steady diet of academic text books that he had collected throughout his youth and stole in his young adulthood, enriching Viktor's mind as a means to counteract the cruel joke fate had played on his physical body. Fortunately, the boy took to academia like a fish to water. Knowledge flowed through Viktor's small frame and settled easily into the wrinkles of his mind.
When Viktor made it to nine years of age, their father's plan – if in fact there had been a plan – came to fruition. Every year, the preparatory boarding school for the Academy of Piltover held a lottery, selecting a small number of children from around Runeterra to attend the prestigious institution on partial scholarship. The selection process was mainly based on academic prowess. The unspoken part of being selected was Piltover cherry-picking students who would make them look the best, the most generous and kindly. And that year what could be kinder and more pious than accepting a poor, crippled, yet brilliant Undercity Ratling?
Katya and Viktor's father cared little for the motivations of the preparatory school's admission board, he cared that his son had secured his best possible chance to remain alive. Viktor would live in the school's dormitories during the week, breathing the clean Piltover air – so sweet and easy on his ragged, weak lungs – and was fed three meals a day. On the weekends, Viktor came home to his father and sister. Until one day he came home to just Katya. She told him there had been an accident at the mines. He didn't believe her, but didn't press. He couldn't find his voice through the sudden tight constriction in his throat and clenching of his whole body.
"I'm going to have to leave school," Viktor whispered hoarsely later that night, once he and Katya were cried out and his muscles had reluctantly released enough to allow his fear through his mouth.
"No," Katya promised, her arms wrapping more tightly around him. She kissed his head, "No, you won't have to leave school."
"But," he sniffed into her chest, "how are we going to pay for it with only you working?"
The scholarship the lottery selection came with was immensely helpful, but not enough to keep Katya and her father from having to work to the bone in the mines to make up the difference. Even the prorated tuition of Viktor's room and board, since he came back home on the weekends, wasn't enough to offset the constant need for funds. Viktor felt his sister's heart thunder beneath his cheek, the pads of her fingers dug firmly into his shirt sleeves.
"You won't leave the Academy. Do not worry about how. I'll take care of it. I'll take care of us."
And she had. It was a year and a half later and Viktor still attended the Academy's Preparatory School. Besides moving to a smaller, grimier, cheaper apartment, he wasn't sure what Katya did to keep his life-line intact. She insisted it wasn't for him to worry about ("Just focus on your schooling.") and she never seemed concerned beyond the day their father passed, so Viktor didn't worry either. His sister was steady and it kept him grounded and trusting.
Katya hummed to herself as she looped and set the leather straps into place across Viktor's crooked spine. She grimaced briefly, seeing that the prong of the strap she had just secured was set in the last punch hole. They would need to visit the Tanner sooner then she anticipated. She mentally redirected her thought into an affirmation that this was a good thing, that her brother's body was growing as it should thanks to the food the Academy fed him throughout the week. Katya relaxed her brow and continued to set the brace.
"There we are," she sang, sliding the last strap into its keeper loop. She reached behind her for the stack of clothes set on the toilet seat and grabbed the undershirt. "Arms up."
Viktor lifted his gangly limbs obediently and let the garment slip over his head and arms.
"I can do it," he insisted as Katya went back for his school button-up.
"Alright," she ran her fingers through his damp hair, "Breakfast is ready. Be quick."
Returning to the kitchenette, Katya stirred the bowl of oats and set it and one of the mugs down on the table in the corner. As she returned to the counter to fetch her own mug, Viktor hobbled over and took up his seat.
He eyed the singular bowl suspiciously. "Aren't you going to eat, too?"
Katya cocked her hip against the counter top, bobbing the tea bag in her mug and smiled, "No. I'm not hungry."
It was a lie and she was grateful that her stomach didn't betray her with a yawning rumble. She sipped her tea, savoring the way the hot liquid coated the inside of her empty belly. It had to be enough. Viktor pulled his lips into a tight line, but didn't press. He ate his bland breakfast and drank his tea quietly.
"You have a history test this week, yes?" Katya asked, taking up Viktor's dishes when he was finished. He nodded rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"Professor Holgren teaches it differently than how Papa did."
Katya couldn't stop her eyes from rolling as she put the dishes in the sink. "I have no doubt."
Piltover and their halve truths. Their whole lies. Painting themselves in an ever-increasing favorable light. Each era rosier than the last. Katya sucked a deep breath in through her nose and dropped the thought before it ran away with her emotions.
It didn't matter. Piltover could keep lying, could keep overlooking half its citizens as long as it helped Viktor stay alive. A means to an end.
"Do you want me to quiz you as we walk?"
Her brother nodded as he made to get up from the table. "There are notes in my school bag."
"Good. Go get your shoes and coat on. I'll get your bag."
The Sump was almost perpetually chilly and damp. However, with the recent shift of summer to fall, the cold and wet intensified as it did every year. And with that shift, the pollution stuck closer to the skin and limply curled the ends of hair. The moisture made sure that it was near impossible to feel fully warm, the humidity weighing the air down causing the gasses and grime in the air to feel so much closer.
Katya's heart clenched as Viktor inevitably coughed as they stepped out into the murky morning. She readjusted his canvas bag over her shoulder and reached down to pull his scarf over his mouth and nose. It wouldn't really help, but the performance tricked her into feeling a little better. She did the same for herself, pulling her father's old coat more snuggly around her. After locking the apartment door, the siblings hurried as quickly as they could toward the nearest Conveyor. Quizzes could wait for when the air wasn't so thick.
Katya flashed the badge the Academy had given Viktor to the attendant and they were let on without having to pay. They settled into their seats as the glass and iron contraption whirred and clattered to life, beginning its ascent.
The difference in the air quality between the Sump and the Entresol was maddening. It wasn't Topside by any stretch, but as the car broke into the middle level of the Underground the atmosphere lightened. Brightened, too. Viktor went to lower his scarf from his nose and mouth, but Katya stopped him.
"Wait until we get to the Promenade."
The boy sighed. A sound that transformed into a chesty cough. Katya looped her arm around his small shoulders and pulled him closer, rubbing his arm comfortingly. As his fit settled, Katya's amber eyes nervously flitted around the nearly empty Conveyor car. The few passengers there were eyed the siblings with either annoyance ("It's too early to listen to your brat contaminate the car.") or pity ("Poor little one. I wonder how long he has.")
Katya and Viktor sat in silence, watching the tangles of metal structures and neon lights through the windows in front of them. The boy leaned against his sister's shoulder, turning his head into her coat. The scent of their father had dissipated greatly over the past year and a half, but if Viktor angled his covered nose just so – toward the deeper seams that were less exposed to the elements – he could make out the earthy sourness of the tobacco he had smoked, the mellow balmy scent of the soap he used, and the tang of metal from the mines he worked in all his adult life. Viktor felt the back of his throat constrict and he turned his head away, instead leaning his temple against his sister's shoulder. A moment later, he felt her clothed cheek melt against his crown.
Once the Conveyor broached the Promenade level, the gears and pulleys that guided the transport began to clumsily grind to a slow and shaky crawl. The car finally crunched to a halt and the occupants made for the doors, Katya and Viktor waiting to deboard last. The small crowd that had travelled up from the Sump with them had already dispersed the platform by the time the siblings stepped out of the Conveyor. Katya pulled her scarf away from her face and opened her coat. Viktor removed his face covering but kept his coat buttoned shut, knowing his sister would chide him for doing so. It was warmer up here, but he knew she still feared him catching cold.
"Let's go," Katya said, reaching into the bag over her shoulder and fishing out the notes that he had mentioned back at home.
The pace toward the Bridge was set by Viktor and his cane, a steady but awkward limp. As promised, Katya leafed through her brother's thorough notes, cobbling together questions for him to answer. Viktor's answers were not as fluid as they were when he was quizzed on the sciences, but he still did so much better than Katya thought she could ever hope to do if their positions were flipped. As they made their way toward the main Bridge connecting the Undercity to Piltover, the Promenade was slowly bustling to life, shops whirring open and sleepy citizens taking their way to the streets. The sun rose behind them, casting long shadows in front of them that their feet never really caught up with. It inspired a question that wasn't in the notes.
"Why did they build Piltover where they did?"
Viktor hummed and paused very briefly before swinging his cane in step again. "To catch the Sun. To be the first thing that was shown upon every day."
"Yes," Katya confirmed, careful to keep the edge from her voice.
As if on cue, the pair rounded a corner and were greeted with the first real view of Piltover. As Viktor had said, the sun covered the sprawling city in glistening light. The stone used to erect Piltover's buildings had been chosen not only for its strength and durability, but for vanity. The creamy rock seemed to glow from within when the light of the sun cascaded over its sheened surface. As if to belabor the point, every building was ostentatiously gilded in webs of gold metal that would glare and flash against the sun.
Katya brought a hand up to shield her eyes as one such flash assaulted her vision. Grimacing, she sheparded her and Viktor's path along a shadowy strip of pavement and resumed quizzing him. It wasn't too much longer until the Bridge was before them. It was their least favorite part of the journey. Usually when they crossed it was low-tide and the briny and composting scent of it was thick in the air. On especially humid or windy days, one could also smell Piltover's sewage runoff several meters down the shoreline, being pumped toward the Undercity's coast. Luckily, this was not one of those days, their noses and tongues only being assaulted by the stench of rotting kelp and decomposing fish. As they passed underneath the central towers of the Bridge, the air annoyingly shifted and the scent of the tide dissolved, as if the atmosphere itself took issue with the Undercity.
"How many individuals from the Undercity have been on Piltover's Council since its founding?"
"Four," Viktor answered. "Including a man right now."
"Very good. What's his name?"
"Jarrot Bone."
"Correct," Katya said, tucking the notes back into the canvas bag as they approached the small attendant's hut guarding the final few yards of the Bridge that led into Piltover proper. Like hogging the sun and blinding the Underground at the same time, this was another slap in the face. Technically, the Undercity was a part of Piltover, but over half of the city's citizens couldn't just cross the River Pilt when they felt like it.
"Good morning," the attendant said dryly. "Reason for crossing?"
Katya and Viktor knew all the Bridge attendants by sight and name. They had been making this crossing almost every week for over a year and still the municipal workers couldn't be bothered to remember them.
Katya slid Viktor's school badge and their laminated approval papers underneath the glass partition. "I'm dropping my brother off at the boarding school for the week."
The bored eyes of the guard slid across the papers in front of them, and barely lifted their gaze to the two siblings standing just beyond the glass.
"Oh right," the attendant yawned, "the student from the Undercity."
"Yes," responded Katya, working very hard not to speak in an aggravated tone. "From the Undercity. Just like every week."
The guard didn't react to the last bit, likely they had stopped listening. The papers and badge were slid back under Katya's fingers and she and Viktor were gestured to continue on. And they did. Like they did every week.
On their way to Pilt Square, they passed several small restaurants and cafes and Katya's hand tightened on the strap cutting across her chest as smells of baked goods and steamed milk wafted around them. She had to work to not pick up her pace and leave her brother's side and get away from the taunting scents. She let out a loud, forced cough to cover the squeal of her empty stomach. Viktor flicked his eyes up to her and she waved her hand dismissively, trying to give a set of convincing smaller coughs.
"Swallowed wrong," she explained, clearing her throat.
Mercifully, the smell of food was left behind as Pilt Square came into view. The streets opened up and the cobbled bricks gave way to large, smooth tiles of light stone. The edges of the square were trimmed with topiaries and six large trees were artfully dotted throughout. A large fountain splashed in the middle, sprays of clean water occasionally cutting prisms in the air when they caught the sun just right. At the opposite end of the square from where Katya and Viktor walked as a large wrought iron arch way that led toward the Academy campus.
There was a young woman dressed in the Academy's uniform of cream and navy blue seated on the lip of the fountain. Her ankles were crossed and her spine was set straight and rigid – it needed to be to balance the voluminous blond coif sitting atop her head. The small book she held up to her nose lowered as the sound of Viktor's cane came closer. Her round face split into a smile at the sight of them.
"Good morning Viktor, Katya," she called. Her voice was light and airy, but genuine.
"Good morning, Miss Ivy," Viktor returned, a bashful smile creeping around his mouth. His sister noticed this but did not bring attention to it.
"Good morning, Ivy," Katya greeted warmly. She knew that Ivy Banforth was Viktor's favorite. The young woman, perhaps a little older than Katya herself, was a teacher's aide at the boarding school and met the two Slostov siblings at this spot at the start of every week. Katya would hand off the bag and her brother to Ivy and the aide would guide her charge the rest of the way to campus. Ivy was kind to her brother and seemed to be just as invested in Viktor's presence at the Academy as Katya did. The only other individual at the Academy who seem to take active interest in her brother was the Dean, but Katya was not as willing to make favorable emotional concessions for Heimerdinger as she was the aide.
Ivy stood and tucked her small read away in her jacket pocket. She held out a well-manicured hand to Katya with a lovely smile. The brunette gladly unshouldered her brother's sack and handed it over before turning to him.
"Have a good week at school. Good luck on your test," Katya said, pulling Viktor to her.
He was quick to wrap his arms around her, careful not to knock his cane against her back. Katya returned the embrace, letting her fingers slide into his hair. She gave his body a final squeeze and loudly kissed the top of his head.
"I love you."
"I love you, too," he replied quietly. "See you at the end of the week."
"See you at the end of the week," Katya repeated, gently running his hand down his cheek before fully releasing him. "Thank you, Ivy."
"Of course," she chirped.
Katya waited a moment as she watched her brother and Ivy head toward the campus gates. Keeping her eyes on Viktor's angled shoulders, she blindly reached for the pocket watch tucked into her vest pocket. Once in her grasp, she pressed it opened and let her gaze fall to the time. She sighed. She needed to get to work. The mine's lead foreman allowed her to be 'reasonably' tardy on Mondays so she could shuttle Viktor to school, she didn't want to push his generosity. She spun on the heel of her boot and strode back for the Bridge, her gait long and swift now that she didn't have her brother at her side. She allowed her eyes to wander as she passed again through the café district, eying the small metal tables scattered outside the establishments. As easily as an eagle swiping a fish from the river, Katya reached out and snatched up a half-eaten roll from an abandoned plate. She didn't even look as she shoved the baked good into her mouth, barely registering its taste before it was gone down her throat.
Katya passed the same Bridge attendant as before, and they didn't even look up. Of course, no one cared who went into the Undercity; concern was reserved for people who wanted to be in Piltover who seemingly had no business being in there. Once back on the Promenade level of the Underground, Katya headed South, and not wanting to (or being able to) spend coin on a Conveyor, roof ran toward the mines.
It wasn't long before the spiraling fence and wire of the quarry came into view. Even shorter was the stench that wafted up from the cracks in the rock and meandered through and around all the nooks and crannies of the Sump and Entresol. Again, Katya hiked up her scarf over her mouth and nose. She approached the gated entrance and the ancient, fat Yordle who controlled the lift waved her in.
"Mornin' Katya," she grumbled.
"Morning Marzi."
The lift's gate clattered shut behind her, and Katya's stomach lurched slightly as it made its descent. The light went from the warm yellow-orange of day to a slicky chartreuse as she descended from the surface. The air became thicker too. But she was used to it. She had worked here since she was six, the smell and feel of the toxins muted and numbed by time. It also helped that she was fortunate enough to have what was considered a cushy 'office' job in the mines – working in the medical center. Caring for Viktor over the years had provided her with enough experience and know-how to be pulled away from manual labor and put to work band-aiding the miners. The lift jolted to a stop at her level and Katya walked the short stretch of rocky tunnel to the mine's clinic.
"I'm here," she called out as she entered, lowering her scarf from her mouth. She removed her coat and stuffed the scarf in its sleeve before hanging it on the rack next to the door.
"Will? Did you hear me? I said I'm here. You can go home," Katya repeated. She pulled a long piece of cardstock out from the shelving unit in the wall and stuck it in the time-clock. The mechanism punched the paper with a hefty thud, and she put it back.
Will still had not answered, and Katya uncertainly made her way to the adjoining office. The unease in her shoulders softened as her eyes took in the sight of the balding, middle-aged man sleeping in his swivel chair. Will was leaned back to such an angle that it was truly remarkable that he hadn't succumbed to gravity. His mouth hung open and gargling breaths issued forth.
"Will," Katya hissed, tapping his shoulder. The touch caused the chair to sway slightly and that was enough to send her co-worker to lurching forward, coughing and sputtering. "Sorry. I'm here. You can go home."
Will clasped a hand to his chest and wheezed. "Gods, Katya. Don't scare me like that."
"Don't fall asleep like that."
Will took a few moments to gather himself, brushing back the little hair he had and setting glasses on his thin nose. "You got your brother to school alright? No trouble?"
Katya nodded looking over the papers and clipboards on the desk. "All fine. Where did you leave off?" she asked gesturing to the mess in front of him.
"You'll be picking up with Unit 89. The first of them should be arriving within the hour."
Katya sighed, grabbing her stethoscope from the hook above the desk and slinging it around her neck.
"I hate performing physicals," she moaned, taking the seat Will had just vacated. "What's the point if we cannot actually help them when we find something wrong?"
The question was rhetorical, but Will answered anyway. "Because."
Katya huffed through her nose, "They should just let us stitch, set bones, and amputate limbs. It would free up resources and time."
"I agree," Will conceded, hanging up his stethoscope. "But we have to make a show of it. Optics, morale, and what not."
"What not," Katya ground under her breath as she began to organize the papers in front of her.
"There's a shipment of supplies coming in today, too," Will added loudly as he left the office and made for the coat rack.
Katya's fingers stilled briefly in their paper shuffling and the breath through her nose was sharper than intended. "When, and of what?"
"This afternoon," Will answered, shrugging his patched coat on. "A mish-mash of things I believe. Mostly restock. Bandages, plaster, some anti-biotics and the like. There should be an order sheet on the desk there. Weren't you the one that placed it?"
"I place a lot of orders, Will. It's sometimes hard to keep them all straight."
Will raised his eyebrows and hummed. "Well then, I'm off. Good luck today."
"Get home safely," Katya called over her shoulder.
Once he was gone, she rifled more hurriedly through the mess he had made and found the order sheet. Her heart fluttered at the sight of the inventory. Yes. This was the shipment she was waiting for. The one she over-ordered. On purpose. Knowing that her quietness and compliance had bought her some level of trust by the mine's administration and board, this was something she did at odd intervals. So as to not draw suspicion. And with her and Viktor's cupboards bare, his brace needing replacement, and tuition coming up, it couldn't have arrived at a better time. She would just need to get through performing superfluous physicals before she could get her hands on the goods.
NOTES: I know, I know . . . I gushed about Silco in the Beginning Notes and he made no appearance in this chapter. Fret not, dears, he starts off the next chapter (and will probably be in everyone from this point on).
Also, having recently rewatched the episode of Arcane where Heimerdinger meets Viktor at the pipe after his diagnosis, clearly I am changing how Viktor came to be at the Academy and how he and Heimerdinger met. Hooray for artistic license!
If you like my work so far, please leave a comment!