Arcane

Well, it's all going to shit.

Chembarons warring for control of the Lanes.

Wannabe street thugs squabbling over scraps.

Just like when Vander shoved off.

Except this time...

you aren't here to put it all back together, because...

Because someone put all those holes in you.

Vi used to say I could fix anything.

Before I broke everything.

She used to say a lot.

Her and you.

Always bossing me around.

Now it's so quiet.

What am I supposed to do with that?

Have you had enough?

You feel it?

That...

...buzzing behind your eyes?

Because you know, in a moment,

it could all... poow!

Hmm.

Best feeling in the world, kid.

Yep, that's me.

You ever need to curse a sibling

or a family or a society...

my card.

Well, you know, far be it from me,

but, uh, you hired me to run the numbers.

And ever since we've gone up against the other chembarons,

the numbers are in the, uh...

Shitter?

Not exactly the term I...

Ever wonder why fat brains like you always wind up working for grunts like me?

No, uh, never.

You only use half your head.

Plotting moves.

Calculating odds.

Know how Silco took hold of the Lanes?

With his bare teeth.

It just, you know, seems, uh, hasty.

Last count, Margot had at least ten hitters guarding the stash.

Margot and Chross can buck all they want, but in the end,

I'll be the one smiling.

Until I'm in Silco's chair,

your only job is to make the numbers work, hmm?

The Grey.

All the way up here?

What do you know? Cleared the place out.

Might have made our jobs a lot easier.

No, no, no. We can't.

It's factory smog trapped underground.

No more, no less.

Boss.

You-- You go on ahead.

Report back.

Me?

I know you're all fantasizing about sawing each other's heads off.

So I'm gonna get right to it.

These turf wars have to stop.

These two have been the aggressors. I've only defended my interests.

Playing coy doesn't suit you, love.

You started this dance when you raided the Rapturewalk.

What could I want with your boulevard of filth?

Topside is the real enemy.

Us killing each other is playing right into their hands.

Our best shot is to put aside these petty squabbles

and join forces.

Ally with these two? I rather favor my chances with Topside.

Even together, they outnumber us four to one.

That's before all the recent casualties.

Might matter up there,

but they don't know the first thing about fighting in the fissures.

Hmm.

Is he dead?

Why is he so quiet?

She's right.

We don't get Topside off our backs, we don't last.

But I got a different solution.

We give them Jinx.

It's all they really want.

We don't hand over our people.

"We"? You don't do much of anything anymore, do you, magpie?

Bird without a wing's just a funny-looking rat.

Struck a nerve, did I?

Okay, I'll make you a deal.

You help me put a bow on Baby Blue for our friends upstairs,

I'll cut you a brand-new puncher, top of the line, all the fixings.

Think on it.

But I promise,

it's the last offer you're gonna get.

I can't believe you're dead and I'm still mopping up your messes.

Jeez, lady, you crazy?

Talking to dead people.

You here to finish me off?

Haven't I done you enough favors?

Same time every day.

Big baby couldn't do it himself.

- Couldn't do much himself. - Mm.

About now, he'd have me all over the Lanes running his collections.

Building his weapons.

Making his deals.

Exploding his enemies.

He dips out,

the whole world flips over.

All his plans.

Everything we built.

The hell we supposed to do now?

Watch it all burn.

What'd I tell you?

Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor!

Viktor...

Viktor!

Viktor...

Viktor.

Jayce?

Viktor?

My God.

What...

am I?

You're...

You're alive.

You're-- You're alive.

Oh! Oh, uh...

You must be cold.

Cold.

No, I don't think so.

I sense a charge.

A potential.

A recursive impulse.

Unpleasant, but...

"cold" isn't its name.

The Hexcore.

Viktor, it saved you.

Somehow it-- It adapted to your injuries,

changing and evolving.