Crane pulled off the burlap mask, letting out a shaky breath.
The cool air hit his face, grounding him. He ran a hand through his hair, steadying his breathing.
I could always go to a brothel, he thought.
The idea lingered for a second, tempting in its simplicity.
Then he scoffed at himself, scowling.
"What am I thinking?" he muttered. "I'm an incubus."
He stood straighter, the weight of the mask still in his hand.
"I should take pride in that—do it my own way."
No shortcuts. No cheap answers.
If he was going to learn, to grow stronger, it would be his way.
"Let's see…" Crane muttered, eyes narrowing in thought. "The only girls I've actually talked to are…"
He held up a hand, lifting one finger. "Vi."
Another finger went up. "And Powder."
He stared at the two raised fingers, hand frozen mid-air.
Just two.
A moment of silence passed. His expression fell.
Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into a tight fist, jaw clenching.
"…Pathetic," he muttered.
He considered for a moment.
I could rule out Powder—an incubus feeds on life force, and she barely has enough energy to spare.
His thoughts shifted. But Vi… Vi's strong. She has potential.
He sighed, frustration rising. Still, that doesn't change the fact that I hardly know anyone. Least of all girls.
His gaze shifted downward to the clothes he had crafted for Piltover.
⸻
The elevator doors opened, and Crane stepped out onto Piltover's pristine streets.
Zaunites are too weak, he thought bitterly. They lack the energy I need.
He paused, his thoughts shifting. Except Vi…
Too soon for that, he quickly dismissed the idea. I have to make connections with others first.
Power without connection is useless.
—————————-
Crane stepped into Jayce's workshop, the door creaking slightly behind him as it shut.
He moved through the space with quiet curiosity, fingers grazing over polished tables and scattered tools. A small wooden box caught his eye.
He opened it.
Inside—glimmering softly—were blue gemstones.
Ah, there it is, he mused, plucking one from the box and holding it up to his eye. The gem caught the light, casting a soft glow across his face.
I could crush this right now, he thought, and rid the world of Hextech.
He turned the stone slowly between his fingers.
A Piltover without Hextech… is a Piltover without fun.
No sparks.
No ambition.
Just silence.
His gaze hardened.
It's also the cause of everything wrong with this place.
He placed the gemstone back into the box with care.
My first official act of villainy… is not destroying that, he thought, almost amused.
Then again, he added dryly, I did torture a girl the other day.
He shut the box.
So maybe I'm already past the "moral high ground" phase.
Crane grabbed a notebook from a nearby table and dropped into a chair, flipping it open with casual curiosity.
He didn't want to fall behind. Not behind the kids in Zaun—kids who'd never even gone to school but were still building clever little machines.
They even made a mechanical butterfly that actually flew.
So he started reading Jayce's notes.
Studying diagrams, formulas, scribbled hypotheses—absorbing it all while he waited.
Eventually, the door creaked open.
Jayce entered, shutting the door behind him.
He moved toward his desk, only to stop short when he saw Crane sitting there, nose buried in his notebook.
Jayce cleared his throat, bringing a hand to his face as he coughed, trying to get Crane's attention.
Crane snapped the notebook shut and spun the chair around dramatically, arms thrown wide like he was greeting an old friend.
"So," he said with a grin, "how do you like the look? Pretty dapper, right?"
Jayce stared at him, unimpressed.
Now that Crane was clean and dressed in something that vaguely resembled Piltover fashion—just a long-sleeved shirt, a vest, and well-fitted trousers—he could've passed for another eccentric student.
If not for the red skin and faintly glowing eyes.
"You almost blend in," Jayce said. "But that's not the point. Why are you in my lab again?"
Crane leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "Didn't I say I'd help you with creating magic?"
Jayce crossed his arms. "And I told you I don't need help from someone who breaks into my place to steal soap."
"What you're making," Crane said, voice dropping into something almost serious, "could change countless lives."
For a moment, Jayce hesitated.
As much as he hated to admit it, this kid was the only one who genuinely seemed to believe in him—who understood what he was trying to achieve.
"Fine," Jayce muttered, holding out a hand. "But don't try to steal the credit when we make this work."
"I don't want credit… actually, maybe just a little," Crane said, shaking his hand. "Enough to jumpstart my life."
—
"So what you're saying is, it's too unstable?" Crane asked, pacing in a loose circle.
"Yes. I can't seem to find a way to stabilize it," Jayce replied, flipping through his notes in frustration.
"Have you tried using a weaker gemstone? Maybe the stronger one is just too volatile."
"They don't work like that," Jayce said, sighing. "They're consistent across the board. Same properties, same strength."
Crane crossed his arms. "Maybe consistency is the problem. You're trying to stabilize chaos with more chaos."
The two of them fell into rapid theorizing—throwing out ideas, scrapping old ones, scribbling notes in the margins and on the walls.
—
"Your family makes tools, right?" Crane asked between scribbles. "I read in a paper that House Talis made a collapsible pocket watch."
Jayce didn't even look up. "That was my idea. And for the record, I'm not part of a big house. So don't ask for money."
"I'm not asking for money," Crane said quickly. "But… I am from Zaun."
Jayce finally looked up. "I would be shocked but I already guessed that."
Crane smiled faintly. "Could I, I don't know… join your house? Or maybe get sponsored? Just enough to make a name for myself?"
Jayce stiffened slightly, his expression becoming conflicted. "You're from Zaun. I'm sorry, but it's a bad look for both me and my mother to sponsor someone from there."
Crane didn't miss the hesitation. He stepped forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. "There have been many smart people from Zaun. Did you know the assistant to the dean of the Academy is from Zaun?"
.
.
.
After a long beat, Jayce sighed, reluctantly agreeing. "Okay, fine. House Talis can sponsor you. But play it safe, alright?"
Crane nodded, an almost imperceptible smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.
Jayce raised an eyebrow, still focused on his notes. "You haven't even told me your name yet. If you want to get sponsored, you'll need to give us your name."
Crane paused for a moment, then shrugged, leaning casually against the table.
"Right. My name's Jonathan Krueger," he said, extending a hand.
He hadn't bothered changing the first name—Jonathan was common enough. Just the last name.
Jayce shook his hand.
"I hope you have something planned, because I won't help you."
"I know, I know. I don't need special treatment from you. Don't worry—what I make will blow your mind."
"I hope so. For both our sakes."
The doorknob started to wobble.
Crane and Jayce locked eyes, then turned toward the door.
Without a word, Crane closed the notebook and slid it under the desk.
Jayce stood and quickly erased the board.
The door creaked open.
A girl with blue hair stepped inside, holding a notebook. Her eyes scanned the room—Jayce at the board, scribbling random math problems, and a boy at the desk, head down, sketching in a notebook.
Jayce turned, feigning surprise. "Ah, Caitlyn—I didn't see you there. I was… really focused on math," he said, clearly lying.
Caitlyn raised a brow. "You forgot your notes. Again." She handed him the notebook.
Then her gaze shifted to Crane. "Who's that?"
"Oh, that is—"
"Jonathan Krueger. Nice to meet you," Crane said, cutting Jayce off as he stood and offered a brief nod.
"Likewise," Caitlyn replied, eyeing him curiously.
She turned back to Jayce. "He's not a student of the Academy. What's he doing in your room?"
"Well… House Talis is sponsoring him. I just wanted to show him some of my notes," Jayce said with a shrug.
"You decided to sponsor someone?" she asked, skeptical.
"He has promise," Jayce replied, more defensive than confident.
Caitlyn stepped closer to Crane, arms crossed as she studied him.
Jayce took a deep breath, silently grateful the attention had shifted away from him.
Her eyes drifted down to Crane's rugged, worn-in shoes. "Where are you from?"
Jayce immediately stiffened. He subtly waved his hands and mouthed, Don't tell her.
Crane glanced at him and gave a small wink—
(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Don't worry. I got this.
"The Undercity," he said smoothly.
Jayce immediately facepalmed.
"You're from the Undercity?" Caitlyn blurted, her voice echoing louder than intended.
Crane winced slightly. "Yeah… I got sponsored by House Talis because I've got promise."
But Caitlyn wasn't really paying attention to that part. Her eyes lit up with curiosity, disregarding the awkward pause.
"What's the Undercity like? I've heard so many stories—but they're just that, right? Stories?"
"To be honest, most of what you've heard about the Undercity is probably true," Crane said, unsure of what exactly she meant.
Seeing his confusion, Caitlyn cleared her throat and shifted back to the conversation at hand.
"Ahem. Sorry for the outburst. What are you going to be creating?" Caitlyn asked, refocusing on the task at hand.
"It's a secret," Crane replied with a smirk.
"Secret?" Both Caitlyn and Jayce echoed, their confusion clear.
Caitlyn glanced back at Jayce, noticing his equally baffled expression.
"Yeah, he's making something secret," Jayce said quickly, "Sorry, but we can't discuss it with you."
"You're joking, right? Come on, you can tell me. I'm your friend."
"You might be his friend, but you have to be my friend to know the super top-secret thing I'm making. It's the rules," Crane said, crossing his arms with a smug grin.
"What rules? Go check the rules—it's wrong." She lightly smiled.
"Sorry, ma'am. I don't make the rules. I just think them up and enforce them," Crane said, his tone completely serious.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Do I have to be your friend to know?"
"Yes. I'm in need of more friends—especially ones my age," Crane replied honestly, not realizing how lonely that made him sound.
There was a brief pause before Caitlyn asked, a little quieter, "Well then… can I be your friend?"
She meant it. Truth was, she didn't have many friends her age either.
Crane blinked at her, surprised.
.
.
.
"No. I barely even know you…" he said flatly. Then, after a beat, his tone softened. "But I feel bad—so I'll consider it."
He gave her a small, almost sympathetic smile.
Jayce facepalmed at the situation, already regretting letting the two of them talk.
"You feel bad for me? I'm not the one who just said 'I'm in need of more friends,'" Caitlyn shot back, surprised at how effortlessly he'd flipped it on her.
"But you did just say it," Crane pointed out, glancing at Jayce. "Didn't she?"
Jayce nodded solemnly, unhelpful as ever.
"See?" Crane said, turning back to Caitlyn. "So next time I see you, I'll give you your answer—on whether I want to be friends with you."
"But to be honest don't have high expectations"
"Do all Zaunites act like you?" Caitlyn asked shocked by how he's talking to her
"No Im actually one of the good one's"
"If you're good I don't want to see the bad" Caitlyn said
"Hmm weird question but how strong do you think you are?" Crane said seriously
"Why do you want to fight me?" Caitlyn asked, genuinely confused by the question.
"Can I?" Crane replied, almost too casually.
Caitlyn brought a hand to her face, silently contemplating whether he was serious.
Jayce stepped in quickly. "Don't fight. I'll get in trouble if she gets hurt," he said to Crane, pointing at Caitlyn.
Crane smirked. "Yeah, you're right to stop the fight—because if it happened, she would be the one getting hurt."
That got Caitlyn's attention.
"Me? Hurt?" she scoffed. "We can fight right now, and no one will know a thing—because I won't be hurt at all."
"Agree to disagree," Crane said, his smirk never fading.
"Sure."
"Okay, can I ask another question?"
"If it's weird, I'm leaving," Caitlyn said, already moving toward the door—she knew it was probably going to be weird, and she had places to be.
Crane got serious, leaning slightly forward.
"What soap do you use?"
Caitlyn was already halfway to the door, clearly done with the conversation.
She didn't even look back as she muttered, "You're weird," and walked out.
Jayce sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration.
He went up to Crane, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder. "Don't do it," he warned, his tone suddenly sharp.
"Don't steal her soap. It's not worth it."
Crane blinked, momentarily snapped out of his thoughts.
He tilted his head slightly, his expression distant. "Yeah, I know. I just hope she's as strong as she says she is,"
he replied, almost absently.
His mind began to drift again, thoughts swirling.
As an incubus, he needed to feed off vitality, to draw strength from those with more energy than the average person.
And Caitlyn… she seemed like the perfect candidate.
Not too weak like the people of Zaun, but still holding an untapped potential.
His thoughts lingered on her.
The scent, the vitality she carried. It wasn't just a physical attraction—there was something deeper, a need that drove him.
The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if there was more he could gain from her than just her strength.
Without realizing it, Crane's body responded on its own—a soft, almost imperceptible pulse of love pheromones seeped into the air around them.
Jayce wrinkled his nose, sniffing. "Hey… do you smell that? It smells like—"
"I genuinely don't want to know," Crane cut in sharply, snapping out of his daze.
———————————
After Caitlyn shut the door behind her, she paused in the hallway.
She hadn't expected to enjoy that conversation as much as she did. Weird as it was.
She glanced down at her arm and—almost instinctively—gave it a sniff.
He asked about soap because I smell good… right? she thought, frowning slightly at herself.
A tiny scoff left her lips. "What am I, twelve?"
Still… she smiled, just a little.
Then shook her head and started walking.
"I need to stop talking to weird boys."
But she didn't stop smiling.
——————————
"Wait—so you're telling me," Mylo said, pointing a finger at Powder, "you hit the red dude with Ekko's vehicle, and his head scraped across the floor?"
"Yes," Powder said, deadpan. "That's what happened."
He turned to Vi. "And you're saying he just—what—healed? Like, glass shards popped out of his body?"
Vi sighed, rubbing her temple. "Yes, Mylo. How many times do we have to tell you?"
Mylo blinked. "The same red dude we ate with? At Jericho's?"
"YES!" Vi and Powder snapped in unison.
Mylo leaned back, eyes wide. "Man… Zaun is getting weird."
——————————
I felt like Crane was to lonely probably because he is.
I started reading radiant black and it's pretty good.