Chapter 11: Life is Precious

The laboratory was a wreck. Shattered glass and twisted metal lay scattered across the floor like remnants of a storm, while scorch marks darkened the walls. Singed stepped cautiously into the destruction. The air reeked of chemicals, acrid and pungent. His eyes scanned the chaos, taking in the wreckage with a grim calmness that belied his heart's growing unease.

The shattered containment tube that had once housed Rio, his mutated pet and companion, caught his gaze. The creature lay lifeless, its head pierced by a bullet. Around it, the spilled liquid shimmered with a sickly iridescence. In his eyes however, the destruction of Rio, his notes, his equipment—these were setbacks, but they weren't insurmountable. He had rebuilt before and would do so again.

But when his eyes found the forcibly opened hidden metal door, his composure faltered. His pulse quickened as he hurried toward it, the dread in his chest becoming a heavy weight.

Inside the hidden chamber, he froze.

A boy stood before the stasis tube in the center of the room, his face obscured by tinted goggles and a respirator. He held a gun, its barrel aimed at the tube. Behind the glass lay the perfectly preserved form of a little girl, her features serene, untouched by time.

"Good evening, Dr. Reveck," the boy said, his voice filtered through the respirator.

The use of his real name jolted Singed. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The boy tilted his head slightly. "Just a concerned citizen of the Undercity," he replied. "Here to ask some questions about your… activities. Like the drug you're creating—something that could destabilize this entire region if it spreads."

Singed's lips pressed into a thin line. "What I'm creating is a curing agent, nothing more."

A low chuckle escaped the boy. "Yes, for her, right?" He gestured toward the girl in the tube. "But she's dead, doctor. You can't cure death."

Singed's heart clenched at the bluntness of the words, but he held his ground. "The world is a strange place," he said. "If Yordles can resurrect themselves, why shouldn't humans have the same chance?"

The boy shook his head, amused. "That's a bad comparison. If you want to resurrect someone…" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial of experimental shimmer, the liquid swirling with an ominous glow. "This isn't the way."

Singed's eyes narrowed. "And what would you suggest? What is the 'right' way?"

"You tell me," the boy countered, pocketing the vial. "You're the one who brought Yordles into this. The world is much larger than Piltover or the Undercity, Doctor. For a man of science, you seem rather… provincial."

"My body can't travel like it used to," Singed admitted.

"Then hire someone," the boy retorted. "There's an Explorer's Guild in Piltover, isn't there? Surely you've heard of it."

The boy stepped closer to the tube, his gaze fixed on the girl inside. "I can't let this operation continue. Not when Silco could get his hands on it, and exploit it. Leave, Doctor. Find another path. If you stay… I'll stop you here."

Singed calmed down. "Very well," he said.

The boy smiled beneath the respirator. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Yet, even as he watched the boy put away his gun and prepare to leave, Singed's hand crept toward the syringe hidden in his coat pocket—a last resort filled with a potent shimmer compound.

As the boy turned to walk past him, Singed struck. The syringe darted toward the boy's neck—but stopped mid-air, held fast by an unseen force.

"Big mistake, Doctor," the boy said coldly.

The syringe wrenched itself from Singed's grasp, flying across the room to shatter against the wall. Singed barely had time to react before the boy's gun was out again, this time aimed squarely at the stasis tube.

"No!" Singed cried, his voice cracking as the boy pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced the tube, and the liquid inside began to drain in a steady stream. Panic gripped Singed as he rushed to the tube, desperately trying to stem the flow with his hands. His cries were a mix of anguish and fury, but the boy's voice cut through his despair.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, his revolver now trained on Singed's head. "I understand why you did this. If I were in your place, I might have done the same. But the life of one girl isn't worth the destruction of countless others."

Singed, his hands soaked with the leaking liquid, chuckled weakly. "Time will tell if you hold onto those words yourself," he murmured.

The gunshot echoed through the room, and Singed's body slumped to the floor.

For a moment, the boy stood motionless, his gloved hands clenched into fists. He holstered his revolver, then glanced at the stasis tube one last time, the dead girl lying peacefully inside.

With a deep breath, he extended his hand toward the walls, feeling the metallic foundation of the room, his power flaring to life. The metal in between the walls began to glow red-hot, warping and buckling as the room collapsed in on itself. Flames licked at the edges, consuming the remnants of the lab.

The boy stepped out into the night air, the inferno roaring in the lab. He didn't look back.