After escaping from the burning workshop, Abel made his way through the familiar sewer tunnels, heading toward Silco's hideout. However, as he moved, his mind began to sink into heavy thoughts. He recalled Silco's words: "Kill anyone who could become an obstacle." Those words now held a completely different meaning for him. Abel wondered—did Silco know that Eric was in the laboratory? Could he have deliberately sent him there, knowing he would encounter a friend from his past? And if he did know, how did he know about Abel's past?
As he delved deeper into his thoughts, Abel began to analyze every word Silco had said, every detail of their last conversation. He remembered how Silco had spoken of "mutual benefit," but now it felt like a mockery. Abel realized that Silco had always been a master manipulator. Perhaps this mission wasn't just an assignment but a test—or rather, a way to ensure his loyalty to the undercity.
As he moved through the sewers, Abel was haunted by memories of Eric. He saw the boy, lost in his own world, in his dreams, which he pulled out one by one, hoping to make the world better than it was. They used to complain to each other about how Lena would drag them out of bed early in the morning to make sure they didn't miss lunch. These memories mixed with a pain that left behind emptiness, and Abel began to doubt himself. He questioned who he had become and what truly mattered to him now.
Finally, Abel reached Silco's hideout. His breathing was calm and measured, but his eyes burned with a fire that neither the rain nor the cold walls of the sewer could extinguish. Anger, mixed with disappointment, fueled his determination. He needed answers.
Knowing that simply walking through the front entrance wasn't an option, he headed to the rear of the old factory that served as Silco's hideout. Surprisingly, despite its initial appearance, the factory was relatively intact compared to most buildings in the area. Its walls still stood, and the roof seemed impenetrable.
Abel stopped at the base of the building, his eyes scanning the rusty metal walls, searching for any crack, window, or hole that might allow him to slip inside. But there was nothing. The roof was intact, and the walls were smooth, as if designed specifically to keep intruders out. However, Abel wasn't about to give up. He closed his eyes, allowing his enhanced senses to fully awaken. The sounds of life inside the factory began to reach him: footsteps, voices, the creak of metal, even the breathing of people.
Abel opened his eyes and looked up at the roof. His claws, sharp as razors, slowly extended from his fingertips. He dug them into the metal surface, feeling them struggle to grip the rust. Straining his muscles, he began to climb, his claws screeching against the metal, leaving deep scratches.
Once he reached the roof, he searched for a weak spot. His gaze caught the edge of one of the metal plates, and he pulled on it with all his strength. The metal creaked, resisting, but Abel's current physique was far beyond that of a normal human. Finally, with a loud screech, the plate gave way, bending at almost a right angle, allowing him to slip inside.
Inside, Abel found himself in a storage room. The air was filled with the smell of dust and the components of some chemicals. He quickly oriented himself and began moving downward, toward the basement. His movements were silent, like a shadow, and his body seemed to merge with the darkness. He climbed along the walls, sometimes struggling to grip the less intact parts of the rusty ceilings.
Along the way, he avoided encounters with the thugs patrolling the corridors. However, his presence was occasionally betrayed by an accidental noise—the creak of metal or footsteps. When that happened, Abel acted quickly and mercilessly, knocking out anyone in his path before they could raise the alarm.
After some time, he reached Silco's room. The door was closed, but Abel had no intention of knocking. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his raging emotions and slightly opened the door. Before Silco could even comprehend what was happening, Abel was already inside. He moved so fast that he seemed like nothing more than a shadow flickering through the air. In the next moment, he was crouched on the table, his glowing eyes in the dim light staring coldly into Silco's surprised ones.
Silco tried to stand, but Abel was faster. His foot struck Silco in the solar plexus, sending him crashing toward the window, beyond which the murky waters of the toxic river could be seen. Silco gasped from the blow, his face contorted in pain, but he quickly composed himself.
Silco, breathing heavily, looked at Abel with demand in his eyes. His chest heaved, and his voice was hoarse but insistent.
"You... you need to explain," he exhaled, "what is this supposed to mean?"
Abel, without changing his posture, slowly leaned forward, his cold, lifeless eyes piercing into Silco.
"Did you know whose workshop that was?" he asked, his voice quiet but every word carrying a threat. "Why did you order the death of everyone who might have seen me?"
Silco froze for a moment, his gaze becoming unfocused, as if he was trying to recall the details. Then he slowly straightened, his breathing becoming steadier, his voice calmer.
"I didn't know whose laboratory it was," he began, "but I knew it had what I needed. Killing everyone who saw you... it was necessary. You could be our weapon, our ace in the hole. And aces, Abel, need to be kept hidden until the last moment."
Abel didn't respond immediately. His face remained impassive, but a shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes. He knew Silco was a master manipulator, but this time, his explanation sounded... plausible.
"And the tool?" Abel continued, his voice growing more demanding. "Why did you need it?"
Silco gave a faint smile, his gaze remaining calm.
"For my trusted alchemist. You understand, Zaun lacks any quality equipment. Without those tools, we wouldn't be able to continue our... plans."
Abel remained silent. The anger boiling inside him began to subside, giving way to an old, familiar feeling—disappointment. But this time, it wasn't directed at Silco, but at himself. He realized that it no longer mattered whether Silco had planned this or not. It couldn't change his value in Abel's eyes.
"Fine, I'll accept that," Abel finally said, his voice quiet, and fatigue began to creep into it once more. "Just remember your words—partnership... equality... can only exist if both sides are equal. The moment you decide to use me, it will be the end of you and everything you hold dear."
Silco gave a faint nod, his smile widening.
"Of course, Abel. You never were just a pawn."
As Abel slowly climbed down from the table, preparing to leave, Silco, as if remembering something, raised his hand.
"Wait," he offered. "I have a place where my subordinates live. You could stay there. I'm sure it's better than the shack you're living in now."
Abel turned, his voice tinged with irony.
"Thanks, but that's far from the home you promised, and not one I'd want to stay in."
Silco laughed, his laughter low and slightly nervous.
"Suit yourself. But your work was magnificent." He tossed Abel a small pouch, which he caught with one hand. "Clean yourself up. You look terrible... even for these parts."
Abel glanced at the pouch, then back at Silco.
"At least we can cooperate," he said sarcastically, eyeing Silco's businesslike, oil-stained suit. "But, you know, there aren't many options in this city."
Silco laughed again, but this time it sounded genuine.
"How do I contact you in the future?" Abel asked, already standing in the doorway.
Silco smiled, his eyes glinting.
"Don't worry. When I need you, I'll find you."
With those words, the door slammed shut, and the room fell into silence. Silco slowly walked to the window, his gaze fixed on the murky waters of the toxic river. His mutated eye, wide open, reflected the shimmer of the poisonous waves. A smile played on his lips, as if he could see something that was hidden from others.
In his mind, the city was burning. Not just a building, not just a workshop—all of Piltover was engulfed in flames. The fire consumed the streets, the buildings, the people. And at the center of this chaos stood Abel, his shadow stretched and distorted by the flames, embodying everything Silco wanted to achieve—fear, respect... and revenge.
"Fire," Silco whispered, his voice barely audible. "The whole city in flames..."
He closed his eyes, savoring the vision. The smile on his face grew wider.