In the two separate cities, two separate men dressed so that they wouldn't be as easily recognized in public.

It was time for the weekly shopping trip, and as Ren was the apprentice, that chore was left to him. He never minded the task though. The smells of the market were always exciting and it gave him some control over what they were going to eat for the week. This week, he had decided that he wanted mashed potatoes. However, he did not want to get tied up by this errand. Ren had his studies to attend to and he also wanted to spend some time drawing Mary and Percy to keep his skills from growing too rusty. This meant that he needed to reduce the chance of getting distracted on this outing. No questions, no letters to collect for Viktor, and hopefully, nobody twisting his arm for help. Just a quick trip.

This meant that, rather than his beautiful hero clothes that he worked painstakingly to keep clean, he would dress to look more like your run of the mill Zaunite. He pulled a rust colored shirt over his head and slipped into some dark colored pants that he had modified to better accommodate his augmentation. He laced up a single old boot he had found in the factory and left his augmented leg bare. With the bulk of his leg concealed, he doubted anyone would recognize him by his foot alone. The jacket he wore was the same one he had been wearing when Viktor had found him.

"How long ago was that," he wondered, "has it been a year already?"

It had taken him hours to clean the blood out of the fabric, and even still, the smoky fabric was stained with oil, grease, and the Gray. Despite its tattered appearance, Ren still held a nostalgic fondness for the garment, and a small smile crossed his face as he put it on. Lastly, he covered his head with a neat hat he had found one day. The cap, which had likely fallen down from Piltover, was a simple cream color, with a pattern resembling the teeth of a gear embroidered with a charcoal thread around the edges.

Ren gave himself a quick look over in the mirror. Satisfied he could move without being bothered, he grabbed a market bag and headed out into the city, leaving both the moggle and his gauntlets behind.


Far above him, Jayce was preparing for his day.

He looked over the coats in his wardrobe. He was searching for one that didn't so obviously belong to someone of the Piltover upper class and that he wouldn't mind having the filth of Zaun get spattered onto it. He decided upon a long trench coat the color of chestnuts that had been sitting in the back of his closet for years. The scent of cedar clung tightly to it. He had grown since he had last worn this coat, and found that his wide shoulders now strained against the heavy wool.

"How long has it been since I've worn this," he wondered, "Academy days, I think."

He sighed and resigned himself to the discomfort of a tight coat for the day. It would be worth it in the end. On his way out of his apartment, he grabbed a bowler hat, decorated with a silk maroon ribbon, and placed it low upon his brow. He left the Mercury Hammer locked safely away in his workshop. Today was just for information gathering, and he did not want the extra attention his weapon would bring. Hopefully, by the day's end, Jayce would know where Viktor was and he could strike with full force soon.

It was early in the morning, but the streets were already full of people going about their day. The City of Progress never rested. Jayce moved through the crowd and boarded the Rising Howl elevator to descend into Zaun. Through the glass windows of the great machine he could see that, here too, the people of the undercity were already busily a work. When the elevator reached its station at the border between the Promenade and Entresol levels, Jayce disembarked.

He had no desire to travel deeper than the Entresol level, and hoped he could remain closer to the Promenade. But in his heart, he knew he would likely have to move towards the Sump. After all, it was where he had found Viktor last time. Jayce began his search with the way he had first learned of this mess, by a coffee pot. He spent the morning moving from café to café, eavesdropping on patrons, chatting idly with the servers, and nibbling on the various pastries each establishment had to offer.

This endeavor however, proved fruitless, and the most he had learned was that Viktor had stopped at one establishment months ago in the company of Blitzcrank. By noon, Jayce felt as though if he were to eat one more sugary confection, he would vomit. He wasn't sure if it was frustration at the lack of progress he was making, or jitters from the excess of sugar, but a restless energy came over him, and he made a brisk pace for the lower parts of the city.

The deeper he traveled, the more desperate the population would be. Desperate enough, he figured, to accept an offer from Viktor for aid. Jayce's nose wrinkled as he disembarked the elevator at the lower level. Here, the caustic stench of the factories was on full display, and for someone who didn't grow up surrounded by it, it was quite overpowering. It stung Jayce's nostrils, coating his senses as though it were tar. After only a few breaths, his lungs felt heavier. He coughed into coat.

"The sooner I can be out of here, the better," Jayce thought, "ugh, how can anyone compare this place to Piltover? One smells of fresh ocean air, the other, whatever the hell this is. This coat will need to get professionally cleaned when I get back."

Jayce followed the crowd, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any information that could lead him to Viktor. At length, his wandering brought him to one of the level's busiest markets, the Victuals Plaza. Here at least, the collage of aromas from the foods overpowered those of the factories, making the air pleasant to breathe in. Jayce had decided to linger around where the produce was sold, as the fragrance of fresh oranges made this one of the best smelling places in the market, second only to the shop that sold imported herbs and spices.

"And if I get hungry again, it shouldn't be too hard to find something that isn't loaded with sugar."

An uneventful hour slipped by. There were no shortage of augmented individuals for Jayce to observe, but none of them appeared to have Viktor's work. Too bulky, too flashy, too delicate, too shoddy, too basic; there was something off about every limb. Jayce could feel his frustration mounting. It seemed as though he would need to take a more active role.

There was a man about Jayce's age standing not too far off. He was hunched, burdened by the metal pack protruding from his back. Pipes connected the pack to a mask that covered the man's face and nose. His right arm was completely augmented, the extra weight of it further ruining his posture. To Jayce's eye, he looked like just the sort of person who might know something about Viktor.

"Excuse me," Jayce called out as he approached with an outstretched hand, "but I was wonder-"

"Shove off, Piltie," the man growled, swatting Jayce's hand away and turning to leave without another word.

Jayce blinked, momentarily stunned by the man's off putting behavior.

"And I even used my most charming voice."

Behind him, he heard the snickering of younger boys. He turned just in time to dodge a wad of crumpled up newspaper that had been dragged through a Gray filled puddle. The boys responsible for the projectile, none of which could have been older than fifteen, turned and bolted down a nearby alley. One stopped, looking back to Jayce just for a moment, and made a rather rude gesture before turning and following after his partners in crime.

"Rotten punks."

He was about to pursue them so he could teach them some manners, but someone had grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

"I wouldn't follow them if I were you," the person said.

Jayce turned to see a young man in a gray jacket holding his arm in one hand and a sack of potatoes in the other.


Ren had heard the commotion before he saw it. Even over the noisy chatter of the market, he could hear the augmented man's angry shout. He had looked over just in time to see the disgruntled man storm off and the kids throw the wadded up paper at the Piltie. He recognized the boys as being from Koloman's group of misfits and he knew their game. They would target visitors from Piltover, rile them up by getting their clothing dirty, and then lead them on a chase down an alley. Once their mark was away from the crowd, other boys would rush out and pickpocket the victim. But there was something different about this mark that didn't sit right with Ren.

His reflexes were fast. Most people usually took the sopping wad to the face, but this person was able to dodge it. What's more, Ren noticed the stance the man reflexively took as he turned to watch the punks leave. It was a fighting stance. In seconds, the Piltie had been able to react to the boys, dodge their filthy attack, and be ready to defend himself if there was a follow up. He was not going to be an easy mark for them. Ren knew he should intervene before anyone got hurt and so he approached the man and grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't follow them if I were you," he said.

The man turned around and looked down at him.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Because," Ren continued, "I've seen this before. A couple of their buddies are probably hiding right out of sight, waiting to rob you if you take the bait."

"Someone should do something about those punks."

"Eh," Ren shrugged, "we have bigger problems in Zaun than a couple of pickpockets. You're not from around here, are you?"

"What gave it away," the man huffed as he began walking away from the alley.

Ren walked alongside him, chatting happily.

"Well for starters," Ren replied, "that man called you a Piltie, but that was obvious before he even said anything. I mean, one, your cheeks actually have the color of someone who gets to see the sun regularly. Two, your clothes don't have a speck of the Gray on them. And lastly, you've got a lapel pin for the Piltover branch of the Academy of Techmaturgy on your coat. It's kinda a dead giveaway."

"So the Academy was the last time I wore this," the man mumbled as he looked down at the pin, "how did you know the logo? You seem a little . . .young, to be applying to the Academy, kid."

"Ah-hah," Ren thought, "I don't think 'young' was what you were going to say. What you wanted to say was 'you seems a little poor' for this prestigious school, wasn't it? Joke's on you though. I've got way better instruction than that place could give me."

Ren responded with a smile, "Oh, I've seen it before on some books a friend let me borrow. Also, my name's Renatus."

"Jayce," the man returned the intorduction, "you have an interest in hextech, kid?" there was feigned interest in his voice, as if he were having this conversation just to be polite.

"Doesn't everyone in these cities? Hextech, chemtech, tech in general," Ren said with a shrug, "it's going to improve people's lives and let them do incredible things. Why not show interest? Also, if it wasn't for it, I wouldn't be here walking around."

"What happened to make you say that," Jayce asked.

"Alright, time to pat myself on the back for a bit," Ren thought with a smirk.

"Leg got mangled up by machines a while back, but a new augmentation got me back on my feet," Ren answered, "and then there's that kid people have been chatting about. He's got an augmented leg just like me, and he's using it to do heroics and stuff."

"Maybe he should go deal with those pickpockets," Jayce smirked.

"He's more focused on actual gangs. Like I said, Zaun has bigger problems."

"And you don't think those punks are a problem."

"I mean, they are, but priorities."

"Sounds like this kid has a death wish. He should fight people his own age. Leave the bigger problems to the grownups."

"What, do you think the Wardens up in your home care about us down here? Come on, you should know they don't."

"I'm not talking about Piltover's police, I'm talking about Zaun's own law enforcement."

"Oh, you mean the Chem-Baron's enforcers. Yeah, they keep us from completely tearing the city apart, but they tend to not care if the problem is occurring outside their sphere of influence. Nope, it's a lot of everyone for themselves down here. Also, what are you going to do if the Baron's enforcers are the problem? Get another Baron involved? No, that's why Zaun needs heroes, even if they're young."

"And you aren't worried that this kid is headed for their death?"

"Oh, absolutely not. I've seen him in action," Ren shadowboxed the air for a moment before continuing, "not to mention that he had this wicked augmentation. It lets him do these fiery kicks that are amazing to see. I wish I were as cool as him."

"And now to pat the Doc on the back for a bit. Rub his success in this guy's face."

"And then there's what the papers said about the augmentation," Ren continued, "the hero said his it was made by this scientist. Uhh, what was his name again? Oh, right, I think it was Viktor."

The man from Piltover stopped walking. He turned and for the first time in their conversation, gave his full undivided attention to Ren. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"The man's name was Viktor," Jayce asked, "are you positive?"

There was a new intensity in his tone that took Ren by surprise.

"Crystal," Ren responded, brushing off the hand as he did so.

"I would avoid that one if I were you."

"Why?"

"Why? Because he's dangerous. He has no moral compass."

"I don't think so," Ren said with a sigh and a shake of his head.

"Have you met the guy?" Jayce scoffed.

"Yeah."

Jayce blinked.

"Yeah," Ren repeated, "I've met him. Seemed like a decent enough guy. A little odd, but there's nothing wrong with that. Also, how bad can he be? He's the one who gave me my augmentation," Ren pulled up his pant leg, revealing the metal limb hidden beneath it, "he didn't charge me much for it either."

"Nothing is free."

"You're right, it wasn't free," Ren lifted the bag of potatoes, "these are my fee. He said he'd feel bad charging a kid for help, so I could pay him back with goods. It seems like he just wants to help people."

Jayce didn't say anything. Ren looked up and found that he didn't like the sudden darkening of the Piltie's expression.

"All right," he thought, "maybe it's still too soon to be trying to win over the hearts of Piltover."

"Well," Ren said, breaking the silence, "I should probably head out. It's getting late and these potatoes should probably get to their destination. Stay safe, Piltie."

"You too, kid."

Ren dashed off. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should take the long way home that day. Through the twisting and turning alleys, he wandered until he felt as though he could have thrown off most pursuers. Only then did he return to the lift to the factory. But even as he pushed the button to ascend, he couldn't get rid of the pit in his stomach.


Jayce couldn't believe it. He had spent the greater half of a day looking and failing to find any trace of Viktor, only for some random kid to turn out to be the lead he needed. Jayce didn't believe in fate, but he figured it was situations like this that would lead people to believe in it. Nope, it was dumb luck, nothing more.

"What was that kid's name," Jayce thought as he watched the boy run off, "Renato? Renaud? Reynold? Doesn't matter. Hope he knows what's good for him and stays away from Viktor, but if he doesn't, it wouldn't hurt to follow him. Best lead I've got anyways."

It only took Jayce a few minutes of trailing the boy for him to realize that he was traveling in an erratic pattern.

"Kid's paranoid. That's suspicious."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jayce spotted a fire escape. He rolled his shoulders and felt them strain against his coat. He sighed. It was likely that he was going to tear the garment with what he was going to attempt.

"I'll just have it repaired when it's getting cleaned."

Jayce began to pull himself up the fire escape, climbing higher until he was able to pull himself up onto the roof of the building. He peered over the edge, watching the boy. When he began to wander again, Jayce followed from the rooftops. With a running start, he was able to clear the distances between houses and keep pace with his quarry. It was likely that the Zaunite wasn't expecting his Piltovan pursuer to be as agile as other kids his age, since he only looked over his shoulders and never upwards.

"Alright Pops, I'll admit," Jayce grumbled internally, "twisting my arm to do track and field wasn't the worst."

After nearly half an hour of roundabout wandering, the kid finally took a direct path to his destination. He had traveled to the cliff's side and boarded a cargo elevator that brought him up to what was supposed to be an abandoned factory. Jayce waited patiently until all signs of movement had ceased from the elevator, before climbing up the emergency ladder attached to the lift. At the top, he peered over the edge. Lights on in the factory and the sounds of machinery could be heard from inside.

There was movement in one of the windows. An arm, far too thin to belong to be a limb of flesh and blood, pulled closed the curtains. But a quick glance was all Jayce had needed. He recognized that third arm. A smirk crossed Jayce's face.

"Gotcha."