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“Just a bit more, Blitz. Keep still.”
“Waiting,” the small automaton’s metallic voice dutifully reports. Jayce nods approvingly, reaching around the inside of the open, spherical frame. He spins the newly-installed winch, drawing the extensive length of cable further in through the arm and shoulder.
“That’s right. Good job, bud.”
Jayce hears the faint whine of optical shutters moving. He looks up long enough to confirm his suspicions: the robot is smiling, in their own way. The hinges of their short legs hum, their wide feet moving back and forth in the apparent urge to move before stilling themselves.Their excitement is as palpable as the electricity in the air, the charge ever-emitting from their core. The static raises the hair on Jayce’s arms.
As the cable nears its end, the winch begins to meet resistance. The weight connected to it turns upon the table and drags closer with each turn.Within moments, the newest addition is pulled into place for attachment: a large mechanical hand, easily a third of the size of the robot’s current body. They had transplanted Blitzcrank into their new frame just last week in anticipation of this upgrade, but the demands of the grappling feature still required hands so large that the mismatched proportions couldn’t be helped.
The Atlas Gauntlets undoubtedly find their rivals here for big mitts. Somehow, Jayce doubts very much that Viktor would let them challenge Vi to an arm wrestle to test Blitz’s new grip strength.
Turning his head, Jayce peers through the threshold across the lab. The room around them is dark in comparison, lit only by the chem-lights that had already been here when they first set foot on the property weeks ago.Through the doorway, the early afternoon meets the stained glass of their modest cultivair with the pale glow of sunlight- a rarity, in the Entresol level. Not a cheap one, either. Jayce still isn’t sure exactly how Caitlyn had managed to convince Viktor to allow a considerable donation toward their new residence, but he knows they wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise.
Outside, Jayce spies Viktor with his back turned to them. His feathery hair is longer now, drawn back and tied, the pale locks near the base of his scalp standing out against the chestnut brown. He is dressed simply in a jade sweater and sand-colored trousers. No sign of the navy blanket today, though Jayce wouldn’t have been surprised to see it. Leaning his weight upon his staff, Viktor reaches up, his dull amethyst fingers tilting one of the broad leaves of a young pear tree closer for a look. The golden alloy woven across the base of his thumb catches in the light, gleaming.
“New hands,” Blitzcrank recites, a note of impatience in the phrase. Jayce tears himself away from staring, only to see the white glow of the robot’s eyes on him. He huffs.
“That’s right,” he agrees. Picking up the heavy hand from the table, Jayce turns it over. “Okay, now hold out your arm. I’m just going to install this.”
Obediently, the automaton holds up his right arm. The end of the limb is an open receptacle, empty but for the connecting cable fed through to the winch inside. Gripping and lining up the hand, he pushes the base of it in until he hears the click. A tremble thrums through the mechanism as it connects. The engine in Blitzcrank’s open frame rumbles, the bot’s gemstone reacting, their rune matrix spinning eagerly. The next second, the thick digits on the hand twitch and bend, the power revving the new attachment to life.
Blitzcrank regards the new hand, their eyes open wide, the blank screens taking in every detail. They flex the fingers, one at a time, then all at once.
“How’s it feel, Blitz?” Jayce tests, leaning back in his chair. “Reaction time?”
The bot wiggles the fingers stiffly, considering them with care before answering. “Standard.”
At that, Jayce nods.
“Good. Alright,” he says, patting the bot lightly on their shoulder frame. “Let’s do the other, now. Ready?”
“Affirmative.”
Once the second winch is set into the interior of the automaton’s frame, the installation of the left hand takes no time at all. Viktor’s measurements for the inclusion of the cabling prove to be more precise than what Jayce had originally drafted up, leaving ample space within Blitzcrank’s engine housing for the new cooling units. Jayce turns the screws of the front panel back into place, sealing it all up. Already, he sees where future changes might necessitate a larger housing: space for new actuators for separate functions, an upgrade to their cooling system. Perhaps, even an insulated compartment for storage.
Jayce regards the small automaton seated upon the workbench in front of him, drumming their new fingers experimentally. Suddenly, the idea of them getting any bigger than this is… bittersweet.
White orbs flash up to meet Jayce’s attention.
“Sad?” Blitz inquires. Deeply perceptive, their little hexbot. Jayce smiles, recovering.
“Not sad. Proud.”
“Proud,” Blitzcrank repeats. A new word. Jayce still holds the machine’s new hand in both of his own. Biting his lip, he considers how to explain. Slowly, he finds it.
“It means… being happy about something you’ve accomplished,” he says. Lowering his chin, Jayce levels his eyes with the automaton’s. “And that’s you, Blitz. I’m proud of you. You’re the best thing Viktor and I ever made.”
It isn’t clear, at first, if the robot understands. Jayce can feel the whirring of the rune matrix, the very living essence of their gemstone so exposed and active. Blitzcrank is thinking, long and hard.
But then, the dome of his head turns aside.
Curious, Jayce follows his attention. There in the doorway, illuminated from behind, Viktor stands frozen and caught in the act of watching. Then, he swipes hurriedly at his eye. His nose wrinkles as he inhales, a poorly-disguised sniffle. He clears his throat. Tilting his head, Jayce permits himself to offer a knowing look. Turning in his chair, he extends his arm for Viktor to come over.
His partner obliges, stepping into his radius and letting himself be pulled in as easily as breathing. Blitzcrank offers his other new hand, which Viktor allows to swallow his own in its gentle grip.
“Proud?” they ask, as though it is imperative to confirm.
Viktor smiles; a delicate and precious thing, difficult to cultivate, but all the sweeter for its rarity. Jayce wants very much to kiss him, but lets Blitz have their answer before seeking it out.
“Yes, Blitzcrank,” Viktor tells them. “Very, very proud.”