"If we could get the ghosts of Zaun to fight, we'd be independent in a week." He had told the doctor that on that night. THE night, as he often called it around Jinx. Jinx.

Silco took a swig from his whiskey flask as he entered a room full of the scientific ones. "I trust you're unsurprised by my visit," he told his old colleague who remained at his workstation.

"I do have means of information and warning, but your motivations in particular are unknown to me," Singed replied.

Silco looked at some of the machines and creatures around the lab. He was never one to be squeamish and his long alliance with the biochemist left him hard to surprise. "Three reasons, though you may be incredulous at the last."

Finally, Singed turned to look at his patron. Silco glanced at the operating table and after getting a slight nod from Singed, sat on it. "Progress on… Subject 1088?"

Singed sighed. "Stymied. I'm undertaking more radical steps of reworking his systems to maintain function. I will increase the rate if you wish me to make it the top priority, since it will have many implications for my other work. But the faster I move, the greater risk of memory restoration or retention."

Do I want it done fast or done well? Silco thought. What's one more near or actual killing from Vander among brothers?

"No, I trust your judgment on speed and prudence. The second question is more… forensic." Silco took a few items out of his pockets. They were some pieces of yellow-orange crystal in a bag, a hand drawn diagram, and pieces of scrap metal.

"The Firelights have become bolder and deadlier. Would analysis take long?"

Singed shook his head. "No, within an hour for all three," Singed considered the diagram. "This is from Sevika?"

Silco nodded. "She has a solid memory and I've seen her repair her arm on her several times. I can't bring in an actual hoverboard though." His eyes softened. "I do envy how that must feel, especially for the Zaunite young."

Singed had already begun preparing a solution for the crystals and devices for assaying the metals. "I imagine it as an evolution of them doing... what is it called, roof rushing?"

"Roof racing. Yes–also them using the sparse resources available to effectively combat a stronger foe."

"You."

A long breath came out of Silco before he nodded again. "Your creations are miraculous, doctor. But, I wonder what a different course would have brought."

Singed paused. "The use of Shimmer for temporary extreme hypertrophy and development, its application as a recreational narcotic, or both?"

"Depends when you ask me. For the first, we aren't fretting about Project Warwick, you find willing subjects, and I try a different tact with Vander. For the second, we bring to market its fantastic healing abilities, leverage that for economic growth, and have some of the best of Zaun's youth working with us. For the last, I'm uncertain. Maybe believing Zaun's liberation was possible beforehand is more bearable than it was not."

"This seems unusual for you."

Silco jeered, not at Singed but himself. To hell with it. He took another drink from the flask. "My vision for a bright future has been this blurry since the cannery."

Singed waited a moment. "For the same reason?" he asked not unkindly.

"We've come to the third question. You've said you had a daughter, if I may touch around your ghosts," Silco said in sincerity.

Setting down his equipment, he turned to face him. "You may. It's important but the pain around it is manageable."

"Death is different, at least usually. But if your daughter wanted, no, believed she wanted to leave, and you knew it would hurt, would you let her do it?"

Singed let the sound faint creatures' breath and machines running fill the room before replying. "You were right about my incredulity. Pain is often useful, but a parent must protect their children from significant threats. Unuseful self-inflicted pain included."

He got off the table. "Thank you. May I wait over there," he pointed to the neighboring experiment room.

"Of course."

Silco walked into the room and stood in front of the large suspended figure. "Neither of us has much good news to give, right? Funny, I tried the methodology you used on me on her. Maybe I was too gentle."

He took another swig. "Yes, of course you can laugh. Honestly, brother, I missed it. Missed it a lot."

Silco felt himself becoming drowsy. Just 36 hours. "I hope you were listening in on our conversation–I'd hate to repeat everything. Though eavesdropping wasn't your modus operandi. You preferred the direct, cave-in-your-face approach to the stealthy, stab-in-the-back one. Another way that if me, you, Benzo, and Sevika could have rowed together, for long enough, and hard enough, then at least whatever suffering would be happening here would not be with a fancy, blue-and-gold collar on our necks! Progress Day!" Silco, out of respect for Singed, spat in a sink. "The anniversary of them drowning us. Not as I tried to drown your Powder–"

Silco halted a second, thinking he saw Warwick stir a little at the name. You're imagining things. Of course, you're drunk, sleep drunk, and speaking with the ghostless ghost of the best friend you killed.

"Not as you drowned me. No, they filled the lungs of the adults, children, and babies of Zaun with seawater for one reason. Profit. What demonic sacrifice could measure it? The rich Pilties created their own Void and aimed it at our hearts. The canal project didn't care about rechecking their calculations for the blast, but if they had, would it have actually stopped them? Or would it be like when they produce the financial tables that show suffocating and crushing us in the mines is better for House Hoskell? Like when the costs of sending enforcers to 'pacify' the second shift from unionize is better for House Ferros."

He noticed a chair off to the side. He brought it over to sit facing the man he and Singed hoped to resurrect. A strong man.

"Not new information to you, I know. Remember, you were more militant, more driven, and yes, more bloodthirsty than I was for years at the start. We should have stayed that way. The young–the Jinxes or even the Ekkos–they could've picked up the pieces, whether recovering from shimmer or not. Revile us, slay us, whatever they would've needed to do, but our mission was a permanent revolution and we failed because we in-fought."

Silco considered lighting a cigar, but thought better of it. Got to follow the doctor's orders.

"Yes, repetitive. Maybe even spiraling." Silco chuckled. "Convincing myself? Vander, I believe you've gotten wiser over the years. I'll give my mouth and eyes a rest, if you don't mind. I tend to hear you better in my dreams, anyway."

Silco's attempts to listen seemed momentary to him.

"I have the results, but I also have an empty bed if you wish," Singed offered to wake him.

Silco made a gesture of dismissal. "The crystals seem to originate from the deciduous vascular system. It is dehydrated and then treated with a chemtech variant to create the rapid expansion of its sugar and mineral salts."

Silco frowned. "Where would the Firelights get tree sap in large quantities? A foreign supplier, like a competitor of someone we're trading shimmer? Corina Veraza? A sympathetic Piltover noble?"

He shrugged. "Beyond my area of knowledge, besides my correspondence with parts of Noxus, which I keep in full disclosure with you."

"And the hoverboards?"

"The drawings give me an idea of how it functions. Quite ingenious; respectfully, explaining it would take time and be unlikely to offer clues, unless physics operate differently in parts of Zaun."

"They may at that, but you're correct, advanced applied physics is something I don't understand in the best of conditions." Which I very much am not in.

"The metal itself is both diverse and commonplace. It is of course light and from repurposed items. Perhaps a scrapyard."

That jolted the weakened chemking. "Yes. Once again, your contributions are immense and unpayable."

"Nevertheless…" Singed said, in the closest he came to a jocular tone.

"Yes, full funding of course and other resources if needed." I cannot speak of full commitment and a united front to Vander and fail to deliver to Singed.

Silco still felt low, but he had his answer to if he'd had enough.

"May you make peace with your ghosts, old friend," Singed told him as he left. "Though they seem so more determined to fight us than with us."