cw: surgical procedures, medical stuff, blood, needles, human experimentation, etc.
The Hexcore works—it works, which is more than he could have hoped for just a few short months ago. A month of sleepless nights and constant testing has yielded plants that flourish and rejuvenate and stay that way, thanks, in part, to infusions of the serum he and Alucard have developed. Given the less-than-ideal circumstances, and the increasing time constraint, it’s everything he could have hoped for. He only wishes that he didn’t have to let it go, at the end of this.
Of course, graduating directly from plants to his own person is unwise, and even their practice sessions in the Horizon haven’t necessarily put him at ease. They attempt to run through every setback or unexpected complication, but the Horizon, despite its vast possibility, is only as good as their own minds. And they don’t really know what the Hexcore will do to him, but at this point, Viktor is willing to take the risk. As he told Nadine, he would rather die in the attempt than simply let himself waste away.
In the days leading up to the procedure, Viktor arranges the lab for their needs until it looks more like an operating room than a workshop, various medical equipment and tools and bottles of things smuggled from other parts of the Academy. They decide on a late night, to avoid detection, and the Hexcore spins idly on its tabletop, strangely serene in the face of what they’re all about to do. Everything is prepared and sanitized, and though Viktor is feeling slightly hazy from the first round of anesthetic, his gaze is sharp and his eyebrows are furrowed in determination—or he’s bracing for it. He supposes there’s little difference, right now.
Viktor’s not one for inspirational speeches—that's Jayce's job—and he doubts that he looks very inspirational, propped up on a gurney with tubes and wires in place, but it’s not unnoticed how important all of the people in this room are to him. Despite his pride, he knows now that success hinges on what they’re able to do as a team. It’s a new feeling, for someone like Viktor, but not an unwelcome one.
“Whatever happens, I want to—“ He’s not going to spend much time expounding on the possibilities of failure. He’s already written those letters, and it’s for the best if he pushes them out of his mind and out of this room. “Thank you. For allowing me this chance.”
just a little illegal magic surgery, last day(s) of january (jayce, alucard, nadine, feat. tony)
The Hexcore works—it works, which is more than he could have hoped for just a few short months ago. A month of sleepless nights and constant testing has yielded plants that flourish and rejuvenate and stay that way, thanks, in part, to infusions of the serum he and Alucard have developed. Given the less-than-ideal circumstances, and the increasing time constraint, it’s everything he could have hoped for. He only wishes that he didn’t have to let it go, at the end of this.
Of course, graduating directly from plants to his own person is unwise, and even their practice sessions in the Horizon haven’t necessarily put him at ease. They attempt to run through every setback or unexpected complication, but the Horizon, despite its vast possibility, is only as good as their own minds. And they don’t really know what the Hexcore will do to him, but at this point, Viktor is willing to take the risk. As he told Nadine, he would rather die in the attempt than simply let himself waste away.
In the days leading up to the procedure, Viktor arranges the lab for their needs until it looks more like an operating room than a workshop, various medical equipment and tools and bottles of things smuggled from other parts of the Academy. They decide on a late night, to avoid detection, and the Hexcore spins idly on its tabletop, strangely serene in the face of what they’re all about to do. Everything is prepared and sanitized, and though Viktor is feeling slightly hazy from the first round of anesthetic, his gaze is sharp and his eyebrows are furrowed in determination—or he’s bracing for it. He supposes there’s little difference, right now.
Viktor’s not one for inspirational speeches—that's Jayce's job—and he doubts that he looks very inspirational, propped up on a gurney with tubes and wires in place, but it’s not unnoticed how important all of the people in this room are to him. Despite his pride, he knows now that success hinges on what they’re able to do as a team. It’s a new feeling, for someone like Viktor, but not an unwelcome one.
“Whatever happens, I want to—“ He’s not going to spend much time expounding on the possibilities of failure. He’s already written those letters, and it’s for the best if he pushes them out of his mind and out of this room. “Thank you. For allowing me this chance.”