Powder clung to Vi, sobbing into her shirt.
"There, there, Powder. Take a deep breath," Vi said, rubbing her back.
Powder hiccuped through a series of short, shaky breaths before finally taking one deep inhale.
Slowly, she relaxed, the weight of panic lifting just slightly.
Wiping her eyes, she looked up at Vi. "I… I had a nightmare," she murmured, her voice still unsteady.
Slowly, she recounted the dream, her words tumbling out in a mix of fear and confusion.
————————————
Crane's smirk faltered, amusement shifting into disappointment.
Powder'snofun—shecan'teventakeajoke.
With a sigh, he crossed his arms, watching as she clung to Vi like a frightened child.
"I guess some people just aren't cut out for fear," he muttered, his tone laced with mild frustration.
His astral form flickered, the edges of his body phasing into the wall as he prepared to leave.
——————————
Drifting higher, he hovered over Zaun, the city's maze of rusted pipes and neon lights glowing dimly below.
He soared into the sky, the city of Zaun stretching beneath him like a maze of metal and shadow.
Closing his eyes, he focused.
One by one, blue orbs shimmered into view, scattered across the city—each one a dreamer, lost in their own hopes, their own longing for a better future.
His gaze drifted, searching.
Then, he spotted it.
A single red orb, glowing ominously from deep within a lab.
His head tilted in confusion.
Thatmustbemybody…?
—————————-
Drifting down into the lab, Crane hovered over his sleeping form, his gaze locked on the red orb pulsing just above it.
Reaching out, his fingers brushed against the glowing sphere.
The moment he made contact, a powerful force yanked him forward.
The world around him blurred—colors twisting, gravity pulling—before everything snapped back into place.
His eyes shot open.
He was back.
success he discovered more powers
Looking around he realizes it's still night time
IguessIshouldtakemyfirstsleep
——————————————-
Yawning, Crane stepped out of the room, rolling his shoulders as he stretched his back, a satisfying crack echoing through the lab.
Singed was already hunched over his workstation, meticulously working on Shimmer, the eerie purple substance swirling in glass vials under dim lighting.
Crane rubbed the back of his neck, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. "So, Doc, what's on the agenda today?" he asked, stretching his arms.
Singed didn't respond right away, his focus locked on his work.
"Doc?" Crane called again, tilting his head.
Singed finally turned, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Jonathan."
"Yes, that is my name," Crane replied before sitting on a chair and scooting it closer to Singed's desk.
"So far, I have been using mouse to trial a drug. So far, it has be—"
"You could always let me test the drug out," Crane interrupted, cutting him off.
Singed let out a slow breath, clearly unamused by the interruption. "I was getting to that," he said, his voice flat.
Crane smirked, resting his elbows on the desk. "Just thought I'd speed things up. You know how I love a good experiment—especially when I'm the subject."
Singed gave him a long, measuring look before turning back to his work. He carefully adjusted a vial of shimmer, the glow reflecting off his goggles.
"This batch is still unstable," he said. "Previous tests have shown… undesirable side effects."
He gestured toward a cage, where the remains of a mouse—one that had apparently taken shimmer—were splattered against the glass.
Crane leaned in, his smirk widening. "Sounds scary."
————————————
Leading Crane to a secure room, Singed handed him a vial of shimmer.
"Drink it all. And try not to vomit," he said, his tone devoid of concern.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you," Crane muttered, rolling his eyes as he took the vial and stepped inside.
Singed shut the heavy steel door behind him, locking it with a click before sliding open the small observation hatch to watch.
Crane hesitated for a moment, eyeing the glowing liquid.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he tilted his head back and downed the shimmer in a single gulp.
The taste was sharp, almost metallic, burning his throat as it went down.
His stomach twisted in protest, but he clenched his jaw, determined not to gag.
Singed watched silently through the observation hatch, his expression unreadable.
Crane's body crumpled to the floor, his hands clutching his head as if trying to hold himself together. His body jerked violently, his back expanding unnaturally as the shimmer took hold.
"Ah, it seems Jonathan can't handle shimmer. It's still too unstable for human-like bodies," Singed muttered under his breath.
Then, without warning, Crane's body exploded, a violent burst of pink mist filling the room.
The explosion was so sudden and forceful that the pink cloud seeped through the cracks in the steel door, pouring into the observation area where Singed stood.
Singed staggered back, his breath catching in his throat as the pink mist enveloped him. His vision blurred, and his mind began to twist. The room around him distorted, and for a moment, he swore he saw her—his daughter—standing in front of him.
Her image flickered, ethereal and faint, like a ghost lost in the fog of his hallucinations.
Singed's mind connected the dots. Jonathan, the boy made of love—shimmer must have exploded his pheromones.
—————————-
On the floor, Crane's body slowly regenerated back to its original form.
He pushed himself off the floor and looked around, noticing the pink mist around him.
"Side effects of my pheromones?" he wondered aloud.
He waited for the door to open.
After a while, the door finally opened.
"Was that a satisfactory test?" Crane asked, looking at Singed.
"It appears shimmer is still too unstable," Singed replied, his voice flat.
"I mean, yeah, if I wasn't me, I'd be dead," Crane said with a smirk.
"Your body is too unpredictable for experiments," Singed said, his tone critical.
Crane, noticing where the conversation was heading, replied, "My body isn't my most valuable asset. It's my brain."
Singed looked at Crane. "Go on."
"I also know chemistry. I mean, why else would I willingly want to work here?" Crane replied. "Although, I don't experiment on living animals. I just want to understand more about the reactions and the effects."
Singed stared at him for a moment. "Fine. Follow me. I'll test your knowledge."
Singed turned and walked back to his lab.
Crane followed, his mind racing. Iknowchemistry, butI'mnotsurehowmyknowledgewill stackupagainstthisworld'sunderstandingofit.
When they reached the lab, Singed sat down at his workstation. Grabbing a notebook and giving it to Crane
"Go ahead. Show me what you can do," Singed said, gesturing toward the various equipment.
"Oh, okay," Crane replied, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.
—————————-
As Crane moved around the lab, his eyes scanned the various notes scattered across the workbenches.
He picked up flowers and other supplies, his mind racing as he mentally compared what he had seen to what he knew from his own world.
The materials here seem so simple compared to my world, he thought, inspecting the herbs and basic chemicals.
In his world, such concoctions would require far more intricate compounds and precise measurements, but here, it seemed almost rudimentary.
Yet, there was something in the simplicity that intrigued him—something waiting to be unlocked.
Grabbing a pencil from the workbench, he began jotting down the ingredients and how he planned to use them.
IguessIcouldcreatearudimentaryneurotoxin…butithastobesomethingnew, somethingspecial.
A smirk crossed his face as an idea took shape.
Reaching for a syringe on the table, he examined it briefly before pressing the tip against his arm. He hesitated.
ThisbetterimpressSinged.
With a steady breath, he pushed the needle, drawing his own blood.
To his surprise, there was no pain.
Huh…wellthatwasanticlimacticitdidn'tevenhurtatall.
Shaking off the thought, he turned back to his work, ready to create something truly unique.
———————————
After hours of meticulous work, Crane finally stepped back, surveying his creations.
Three distinct vials sat before him, each containing a different neurotoxin—each a testament to his knowledge and ambition.
The green vial shimmered under the dim light, a liquefied form of joy, designed to make people happy.
The yellow vial held something far more sinister—fear in liquid form. A toxin meant to drag the mind into its darkest depths, forcing the victim to relive their worst nightmares.
But the final vial was different. A deep crimson, infused with something unique—his own blood. This was the real experiment, a formula designed not to affect others, but to alter himself.
Crane examined the crimson vial, tilting it slightly as the liquid inside swirled.
His expression remained unreadable, his mind already racing through the possibilities.
He exhaled through his nose, gripping the vial a little tighter. If this works, it changes everything.
Without another word, he set it down carefully beside the others.
Without another word, Crane set the crimson vial down carefully beside the others.
He turned to Singed, who was still watching with a skeptical eye. "Come check out what I've made," Crane called, his voice steady with a hint of pride.
Singed slowly walked over to the workbench, his eyes narrowing as he took in the three vials. He said nothing, only observing as Crane prepared to explain.
"Alright, let me show you what I made," Crane began, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Starting first with the green vial."
He picked up the green vial, its contents swirling with a faint glow. "This," Crane continued, "is the vial of joy. It makes people happy."
Singed raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "So, like any other drug."
Crane chuckled, shrugging. "Huh, yeah, I guess you're kinda right. It is like any other drug. But, well, doesn't hurt to test it out."
Without missing a beat, he uncorked the vial and brought it to his lips, drinking half of it in one swift motion. He set the vial down.
Singed watches him closely
Crane's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Let's see if it works."
For a moment, nothing happened—then Crane suddenly hunched over.
clutching his stomach as laughter erupted from deep within him. It was uncontrollable, a wild, manic laugh that seemed to take over his entire body.
"Hahah… hahahah!" he gasped, the laughter sharp and jagged, like he couldn't catch his breath.
The laugh grew louder, more desperate, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, it started to fade.
His body finally stilled, and the manic laughter subsided, leaving him breathless and shaken.
Singed watched, his expression unreadable as he observed Crane's shaky form. "You stopped breathing for a few minutes, only laughing," he said, his tone cold and clinical. "If anyone else takes it, they'll most likely die."
Crane, still catching his breath, wiped tears from his eyes. "That didn't work as intended," he replied, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.
"But hey, it's more unique compared to all the other drugs in Zaun."
He leaned against the workbench, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I should move one to the next vial, huh?"
He reached for the yellow vial.
"Now, this vial is my favorite," Crane said, a grin spreading across his face. "Unlike the joy vial, this one makes the user experience pure fear."
Singed raised an eyebrow, his voice steady. "The people of Zaun already live in fear. They won't buy that."
Crane chuckled. "Not for others. This one's just for me."
He brought the yellow vial up to his face, eyes glinting with anticipation.
"Time to face my fears."
Instead of drinking half of it like he did with the other vial, Crane simply stuck the tip of his tongue into the vial, letting it touch the liquid.
He placed the vial down carefully.
Immediately, his head jerked to the side as he saw crows and bats swarming around him, their wings flapping loudly. They flew into the lab, their dark shapes swooping toward his face.
His pulse quickened, and in a moment of quick thinking, Crane bit down hard on his hand, the pain jolting him out of the overwhelming fear.
His breath steadied, but the creatures still lingered in his vision, fading slowly as the effects began to wear off.
"Why didn't you drink half of it?" Singed asked, his voice flat, though a hint of curiosity lingered.
"If I took half of it, I couldn't have gotten out of it with just biting my hand," Crane replied, still shaking off the last remnants of fear.
He smirked, glancing over at Singed. "But hey, it works. Though, you can't see what I saw, so it would be hard to prove it."
Now he grabs the crimson vial
"Now this vial I made with my blood," Crane said, trying to make it sound ominous. "When I mix this vial with the others, it will acclimate…"
"That's the right word, right? Acclimate?" he asked, glancing over at Singed for confirmation.
"If you mean it will adapt or react, then yes, you've used it correctly," Singed replied dryly. "But what exactly do you expect it to do?"
"Okay, good. When I mix this vial with the others and inject it into me, in theory, it should acclimate with my body, allowing me to produce the other toxins naturally." Crane's smirk widened as he set the crimson vial down next to the others.
He began carefully dividing the contents of the crimson vial, mixing it with the others on the workbench.
After a few moments of precise work, Crane stood back and surveyed the results: two syringes, now containing a blend of the crimson liquid and the other toxins.
Each one shimmered with a strange, dark energy.
"These should be… interesting," he muttered to himself, his grin widening as he picked up the first syringe.
pressing the syringe against his arm. He hesitated.
With a steady breath, he pushed the needle, injecting it
As the liquid entered his bloodstream, a familiar sensation spread through his body—like a spark igniting deep within his chest.
At first, there was nothing. Then, his lips curled involuntarily. A small chuckle slipped out, quickly growing into a full-bodied laugh.
As the manic laughter began to take hold, Crane wasted no time.
His hand trembled slightly as he grabbed the second syringe, the one infused with fear.
Without hesitation, he plunged the needle into his other arm.
The effect was immediate.
The laughter cut off like a snapped string.
His breath hitched, his pupils dilating as a cold wave of dread crashed over him.
The euphoria from the first injection twisted, curdling into something else—something dark.
His body jerked violently as the two toxins battled within him, clashing in a chaotic storm of emotions. His mind was split in two—one half teetering on the edge of ecstatic delirium, the other drowning in sheer terror.
Crane staggered back, gripping the edge of the workbench to keep himself steady. His breath came in ragged gasps.
Singed observed him with detached curiosity. "Fascinating."
Crane's fingers twitched.
He tried to speak, but his voice came out strangled, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scream.
His body didn't know whether to revel in bliss or recoil in horror.
The conflicting chemicals were rewriting his senses in real-time, forcing his mind into a state of chaotic equilibrium.
He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus. If he could master this—if he could control it—he'd have something truly powerful.
But first, he had to survive it.
Through sheer force of will, he forced himself to steady his breathing.
His fingers dug into the workbench, grounding himself in the sensation of cold metal beneath his touch.
He squeezed his eyes shut, isolating his mind from the hallucinations clawing at the edges of his consciousness.
He felt the toxins interacting within his body, their effects twisting and colliding like opposing forces in a storm.
His mind honed in, focusing—acclimating—forcing the chaos to stabilize.
What felt like an hour to him was, in reality, only a minute.
Then, his eyes flickered open.
A breathless chuckle escaped his lips.
"That…" he panted, a grin stretching across his face, "was exhilarating."
His body no longer rejected the toxins—it had learned them. His mind had forged a bridge between joy and terror, twisting them into something uniquely his.
Now, he had true control.