Abel walked through the narrow corridors of the abandoned factory that served as Silco's hideout. His footsteps echoed hollowly against the empty metal walls, while the acrid smell of rust and chemicals hung thick in the air. The wooden star Powder had given him rested in his pocket, its rough edges digging into his fingers—a fleeting reminder of the warmth he'd felt upon meeting Vi and her gang. But that warmth faded quickly, dissolving into the cold fury that rose within him like toxic mist.
The door to Silco's room was slightly ajar, muffled voices drifting from inside. Abel paused, listening. One voice belonged to Silco—cold, authoritative, laced with mockery. The other was unfamiliar, low and raspy, as if its owner had breathed toxic fumes for too long. Abel pushed the door open and entered.
Silco sat behind a massive desk cluttered with papers and empty shimmer vials. His one good eye followed Abel intently as he stepped inside. Across from Silco, shrouded in shadow, stood a tall, gaunt man in a long coat. His face was sunken, and his eyes burned with an unsettling curiosity, as if he were studying every detail of Abel like a rare specimen. In his hands, he held a metal case that clinked faintly with every movement.
"Abel," Silco leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You're back. Report."
Abel gave a short nod, his voice flat as he recounted the events of his mission without emotion.
Silco smirked slightly, though his gaze remained cold. "Good. You didn't disappoint. As usual."
The stranger in the coat stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Abel. "So this is your… tool?" His voice was slow, almost inhuman. "I'm Singed. I've heard of you—child of the sewers. A legend of Zaun. But I must admit, rumors don't do justice to your… uniqueness."
Abel stared at him, his mutated eyes flickering slightly. He could feel Singed's gaze piercing through him, dissecting him piece by piece. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.
Singed smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only the greedy curiosity of a scientist who had stumbled upon a new experiment. "Your biology, boy. Your body… it doesn't just survive in conditions that would kill anyone else. It thrives. I see it in your skin, in your eyes…" He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "In your blood. It's… special, isn't it?"
Abel instinctively took half a step back, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Speak plainly."
Silco chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. "Singed, don't provoke my best fighter. Even I wouldn't be able to stop him."
Singed ignored Silco, his focus locked on Abel. "I'm offering you something greater than mere survival, Abel. I'm offering evolution. Together, we can uncover the secrets that will change you… and this world. You are the key to something grand. To a new future."
Abel remained silent, his mind racing as he processed Singed's words. He felt the familiar fury boiling in his chest, mixed with something new—unease. Singed saw him not as a person, but as an experiment, stirring memories of the "Silent Abyss," of his mother, of the pain he had begun to forget.
"I'm not a lab rat," he finally said, his voice icy but laced with threat. "If you want to work with me, we start small. I want to learn more about alchemy. About evolution. But I won't be your dissection subject."
Singed paused, his eyes scrutinizing Abel. He remained silent for a long moment, weighing every word, every reaction. Finally, his gaze settled on Abel's reddened eyes, which twitched slightly as he struggled to contain the storm inside.
"Well then," Singed murmured, his lips curling into a thin smile. "It's getting harder to control yourself, isn't it? Rage… sorrow… anger… pain… It all swirls together, always threatening to spill out. You, my boy, are truly unique. And that uniqueness may cost you dearly—both you and those close to you."
Abel clenched his fists, his fingers tightening. "Stop playing games. Name your price."
Singed tilted his head slightly, savoring the moment. "A drop of your blood. Once a month. No more. In exchange, I'll teach you alchemy. Show you how your abilities can go beyond what you think is possible."
Silco, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. "Careful, Singed. Abel isn't a toy for your experiments. He's mine."
Singed shot Silco a brief, disdainful glance. "Yours? He's more than just your tool, Silco. His blood contains the prototype—the toxicity of which you're well aware. A prototype of the future. A substance that, by all laws of nature, should have killed him. And yet…" He turned back to Abel. "Here you stand. Alive. Healthy. For now."
Abel felt something tighten inside him. Singed's words struck a chord, dredging up memories of the sewers, of the giant rats, of the blood-red flowers that bloomed around him. He knew his body was changing, becoming something else, but Singed's words made it real—inescapable.
"You're saying my blood isn't ordinary shimmer?" Abel asked, his voice quiet but firm. "Then explain. What exactly do you see in me?"
Singed placed his case on the table and clicked it open. Inside were vials filled with multicolored liquids and several scrolls of notes. He pulled one out and unfurled it, revealing complex chemical formulas and diagrams.
"Shimmer," he began, "isn't just a drug, as Silco believes. It's an attempt to rewrite the laws of biology. But even shimmer now is but a crude imitation of what flows in your veins. Your blood… and this prototype—they adapt. They reshape you, make you stronger, faster, more resistant to toxins. But there's a catch." He paused, his eyes gleaming. "No organism should have survived such exposure. Even a drop of what's inside you would kill anyone else. And yet, here you are. This… is an anomaly."
Silco frowned, his fingers drumming on the table. "Anomaly or not, he follows my orders. And as long as that's the case, I won't let you carve him up."
Abel glanced at Silco, then back at Singed. "I agree," he said finally. "A drop of blood a month. But if you try to deceive me, Singed, you'll regret it."
Singed laughed, but the sound was dry, mechanical. "Oh, I don't doubt it. Our collaboration will be… fruitful."
Silco stood, his gaze heavy. "Abel, are you sure? This man plays with forces that we need, but they're too unpredictable right now."
Abel looked at Silco, then at Singed. A shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly. "I want to know what I'm capable of. If he can give me answers, I'll take the risk."
Singed nodded, his smile widening. "Then we begin. I've been observing you for a long time. The first thing you must understand, Abel, is that your blood doesn't just adapt. It evolves. At least, judging by what I've managed to uncover..."
Silco said nothing, his gaze shifting between Abel and Singed. Finally, he spoke: "Don't forget, Abel. With power comes respect, and with respect, power. Only I can show you how to wield it properly. Don't let him take you too far."
Abel didn't respond. He could feel the wooden star in his pocket pressing into his fingers, a reminder of Powder, of Vi, of Ekko. Of what he had lost. And what he might still find. But now, standing before Singed, he faced a man whose collaboration was dangerous—yet might lead to unexpected results. Perhaps even a key to something greater. It terrified him as much as it drew him in.
"When do we start?" Abel asked, his voice steady despite the storm inside.
Singed closed the case and nodded. "Tomorrow. Come to my lab. And… don't eat beforehand. Your blood must be pure."
Abel nodded, casting one last glance at Silco before leaving the room. Behind him, Silco and Singed exchanged looks—ones that spoke of something deeper than mere alliance. Silco saw Abel as a weapon. Singed saw him as an experiment. And Abel himself… he didn't yet know what he would become.
The next day, closer to evening, Abel was already standing in the center of Singed's laboratory, which was even more isolated from civilization than Silco's lair. Surrounded by glass flasks filled with bubbling, multicolored liquids, the air was thick with the sharp smell of chemicals that would make an ordinary person's head spin. But Abel only took a deep breath, feeling his body adapt to the toxic environment. The laboratory, hidden deep within Zaun, was a maze of metal pipes, wires, and strange mechanisms emitting a low hum. The walls were stained with rust and traces of old experiments, while shelves were cluttered with jars containing ominous specimens. In the center of the room stood a massive table, littered with scrolls, test tubes, and tools Abel couldn't identify.
Singed, hunched over one of the flasks, closely monitored the reaction inside. His long fingers moved with surgical precision, adding drops of an unknown substance to the simmering mixture. He didn't look at Abel, but his voice, as always, was hypnotically calm.
Abel stood motionless, his red eyes tracking Singed's every move. He felt out of place here, yet… somehow right. More than anything, he wanted to understand how his "adaptation" affected his body.
"What are you going to do?" Abel asked, his voice steady.
Singed finally looked up, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, as if he had found something he'd been searching for. "First, I'll take that promised drop of your blood. But not just for the sake of it. We'll use it to see how far you can go. How far evolution can take you."
Abel nodded, though a mix of distrust and curiosity churned within him. He extended his arm, and Singed, pulling out a thin syringe, struggled to pierce his skin, succeeding only after some effort. A single drop of dark, viscous blood slowly dripped into a glass vial. Abel noticed it faintly shimmered, as if it held some hidden energy.
"Remarkable," Singed murmured, holding the vial up to the light. "Even to the naked eye, this isn't ordinary blood. It's… alive. As if it decides its own fate."
Abel remained silent, but his thoughts swirled around Singed's words. He had long known his body was beyond normal, but only now, in this laboratory, did he begin to grasp how deep those differences ran. His "adaptation" didn't just help him survive—it was rewriting his very essence, making him something more than human. Or perhaps less.
Singed placed the vial into a strange device that immediately hummed to life, analyzing its contents. He turned to Abel, his smile both unsettling and barely restrained. "Have you ever wondered why Zaun is the way it is? Why this city breathes poison but keeps on living?"
Abel frowned. "Because the people here survive. Like me."
Singed laughed, a dry, almost mechanical sound. "Oh, no, boy. Zaun is what it is partly because of me. Before I came, these barbarians could only stew slop from local waste. Their lives were gray, pitiful, hopeless. I gave them… a method. Chemicals that poison their bodies also make their existence a little brighter. Shimmer, toxins, stimulants—all my creations. I made this city's heart beat. Toxic, but alive. I understand that lives may be the cost of progress, but trust me, evolution, entropy… it will yield something greater."
Abel felt something heavy stir in his chest. He recalled the streets of Zaun, the faces of people whose eyes were clouded by chemicals, whose bodies broke under their influence. "You poison them," he said, his voice quiet but laced with doubt. "And you call it salvation?"