THE ASYLUM
"I have to reiterate, ma'am, this visit of yours was quite... unexpected. As was this request of yours."
The corridors and halls of the infamous Bonscutt Asylum, much alike just everything in that misbegotten place, were clearly in disrepair - rundown walls, cracked floor, some of the doors required painting. Some occasional echoes of screaming, doubtless from the patients, flooded the acoustics. Once in a while, some mice could've been seen in the distance.
But then, when it was by design, one couldn't say much, much less Camille Ferros herself. If the sordid stories were proven true, Bonscutt wasn't ever meant to keep or treat those it received. It was meant to process them out into nothingness, as they had close-to-nothing to offer to civilization. Civilization being Piltover, that is, as the Undercity wouldn't know to measure the proper value of an individual.
But then, as it was with most processes, it wasn't uncommon that every once in a while something of value would end up on the processing conveyor belt, and it was no less different in that place, according to a prior research, which was the lone reason that brought her there. Diamonds in the rough...
"Everything has been as unexpected.", Camille replied. "Speak further of him."
"He was... impressive, to say the least. Even with all the shock, injections and deprivation, he still survived, despite his mind being as almost as... altered.", the doctor, or the semblance of a doctor said. "Some here theorized it would have something to do with his species' biological properties, the... magic, if you can call it, m'lady, this creature carries."
"I'm rather surprised 'cutting' didn't come to the table...", Camille said, in a subtle disgusted mood.
"The one which pushed him to us was quite clear on his directives, to make him suffer very slowly.", the doctor said. "But then, seven months after his arrival, new orders came under the same seal, recommending we gave a pause to the... ministrations... we gave him."
"Out of nowhere?", Camille asked.
"Yes, but I assure you, this wasn't our first 'unorthodox' request.", the doctor answered. "This creature, also surprisingly, only ever received once a message from the outside. Some of our staff didn't want to hand it over to him, not to instill some false hope, but the deliverer went to lengths to ensure the package arrived to him."
"Nothing illicit, I suppose?", Camille asked.
"No, just a few books and a letter, nothing that presented a risk of breakout.", the doctor answered, as both reached a corridor slightly more dark, as a door opened to see a pair of orderlies walking out, one of them nodding to the approaching couple. "He's ready."
Both Camille and the doctor then walked towards the door both orderlies stepped out of, and stood before it.
"This meeting never took place, doctor.", Camille stated, coldly. "Neither the following conversations."
"Which meeting you refer to, m'lady?", the doctor asked, a second later.
"Good.", Camille replied, as the doctor opened the door, numbered '2-01' with a small barred view hole. The Gray Lady stepped into the barely lit room, where the weak lightbulb flickered once in a while. She could see the walls mostly scrawled with black drawings, unsure if it was either crayon or coal. The bed was a mess, with some dirty sheets.
Right by the wall, with a small viewhole which the view outside could be appreciated, if one had the proper height, was someone sitting below. Or, for Camille's better understanding, something definitely tiny-sized, on a straight-jack and humming. And furry, apparently, with a hair do clearly a mess.
"Doctor, my doctor...", the patient said, almost in a singing tune. "Bored up again, are we apparently... What's today's menu? Fifty CCs, fifteen below or one-hundred-twenty volts? Always remember, of course, to have sides in order, including the toy bonus, that's mandatory."
Camille remained motionless, trying to keep her composure, but could feel a bit of disturbance in this one's apparent glee.
The patient started turning around. "And, let's not forget, all with the generous endorsement from the Merchant City-State of Piltove...", he said, before noticing the one he was addressing wasn't the doctor.
As Camille noticed this one individual that she came after wasn't exactly human. It was rather a creature, almost similar to Heimerdinger, if that one went through a blender, with messy caramel, almost dirty brown fur. The most disturbing were the yellow-ish eyes, almost glowing and frightening under that room's ambience, and clearly bug-eyed open from lack of sleep, as well as a very disturbing grin, one that went a bit soft upon viewing the newcomer.
"Oh, you must be the new nurse.", the furry patient said, analyzing her, noticing both her blue eyes and the legs which strangely looked like blades. "You really wanted to be a surgeon since childhood, ri-"
"Are you the patient called Ziggmund?", Camille asked, coldly.
The patient, named Ziggmund, simply stared at her, smiling.
"I'll take your silence as a yes.", Camille continued. "The reason behind-"
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.", Ziggmund interrupted, shaking his head. "Good evening."
"What?", Camille asked, caught off-guard.
"You heard me, now it's your turn.", Ziggmund said. "Good evening."
"Is this serious?", Camille asked, in disbelief.
"No, this is manners, that thing you Piltovans always adore so much.", Ziggmund said, grinning. "Again, good evening."
Camille could not believe this, for a patient, in a straight jacket in a mental institution, of all places, to have the gall to lecture an elite Piltovan on etiquette...
"Good evening.", she started, coldly, but in an annoyed, almost threatening tone.
"There you go, not so hard, see?", Ziggmund snickered. "My name is Ziggmund, you can call me Ziggs, nice to meet you. Now, your turn. What's your name, how are you?"
"That is irrelevant.", Camille said, coldly.
Ziggs let out a buzzing sound. "Sorry, incorrect answer, let's try again.", he said. "Good evening."
Camille decided she had enough with such games, and so she advanced, a hook shot firing at one of the walls for support, and extended a blade leg, aiming it towards Ziggs' grinning face, inches away.
For any other joker, this would've been intimidating.
The Yordle, however, laughed out loud.
"I hope you still think that's funny when I slit your throat!", Camille said, in an assertive tone.
"Oh, please...", Ziggs said, shaking his head slowly, his grin gradually disappearing and becoming one of defiance, his tone a bit more serious and gradually threatening. "The amount of needles I felt pricking me... the voltage running through my body... the hours of below-zero liquid temperatures, all this daily over the course of five decades, and you're expecting me to shudder at a knife? What if I ever wanted this, and now I just wait for my gift to be granted?"
Camille looked at Ziggs eyes to realize a predatory look in him, one that seemed like this one didn't fear death, but rather instead courted it, as would a gentleman with a dame.
"Did you know that experience with insanity, combined with long-term exposure, does bring some benefits, elder lady?", Ziggs said, resuming his grin. "One example being, knowing the difference between someone whom threatens to kill and the one whom actually does it, and I regret informing you are the former."
"I can change your concepts in an instant.", Camille said, coldly.
"You won't.", Ziggs stated, snickering. "You want me. My talents. Else I'd just be like anybody else, left to rot, forever forgotten, did I read your mind correctly?"
"Others can do your supposed job just as well.", Camille retorted.
Ziggs let out a sigh, one of appreciation. "Of course, it always starts with denial...", he contemplated. "But you've already made your mind by coming in here, lady. Whom else, even more from topside, the place with all the reasons in the world I should rebuke after all it's done to me, comes to see a Boffin of Blasts?", his eyes darted around. "Or, perhaps, a Savant of Salvos... a Connoisseur of Combustibility... the title is still a work in progress."
"You can call yourself a Dean of Demolitions for all I care.", Camille retorted, finally retracting the blade and regaining her composure.
"Dean... of Demolitions...", Ziggs muttered, a bit stunted, before smiling. "I thought that was stupid, but it sounded better than I thought. Now you'll have to tell me your name, ma'am, it's now my personal mission to credit you for the title."
"I have business with you-", Camille started firmly, the nerve gathering.
"Are we to start the 'good evening' routine again?", Ziggs asked, tone louder, suddenly serious.
Camille stared at the insolent furry little creature, with a killing stare, before she then breathed deep as Ziggs grinned. "Camille.", she answered, baring her teeth.
"Nice to meet you.", Ziggs replied, in a civic manner. "So, Camille, now we can get to the business that you so much want to discuss."
"Not any longer.", Camille replied a second later, turning around, walking to the door. "You're evidently unreliable. If anything, this is your proper place."
"Your loss.", Ziggs said. "Give the snoozers my regards, if you'll please."
"And to think this would be of your interest, especially concerning Heimerdinger...", Camille said, as she approached the door to leave.
"Say that again..."
Camille raised her head, letting out an imperceptible smirk, as she turned around to notice Ziggs staring at her, a grin that he was clearly struggling to maintain, his eyes wide with a death stare.
"I suppose this name jolts some memories.", Camille said. "Some decades-long pending affairs, perhaps?"
"It brings a story, yes...", Ziggs nodded, his tone a nervous, deadly one. "One of delusion, disappointment... deception..."
"He recently fell from grace, no longer one of the Council.", Camille replied.
"Oh, the sycophant's no longer with you?", Ziggs asked, tilting his head. "I guess schmoozing to higher-ups doesn't pay, after all..."
"And now he fell further by associating himself with some criminal elements that recently robbed me of something. Suffice to tell you I want back what was taken, but the hideout is well shielded. Fortified.", Camille said. "The ones which I would have perform the recovery would have issues in attempting to access the place alone, enough to require an... alternative entrance. You could provide that, and ensure the success of our mission, as well as your inevitable encounter with him. And then..."
Ziggs stared at her eyes for some time, trying obviously to catch a lie on that. And yet, he had trouble finding it.
His grin was gone, by then.
"What kind of wall is it?", he asked.