Dr. Connors closed the glass lid on the sample tray, his good hand lingering on the edge a moment longer than necessary. His eyes shifted toward me, sharp now, not the polite curiosity he'd greeted me with a minute ago.
"You mentioned the serum on the phone," he said slowly, adjusting his glasses. "But I never advertised it. I never published it. Only Oscorp's highest-level files even reference its existence."
He stepped closer, his expression hardening. "So tell me, Mr. Sam… how do you know about it?"
The tension in the lab rose like static electricity. The hum of the equipment seemed louder in the silence that followed.
I met his gaze, keeping my tone calm, measured. "Let's just say I have my ways of finding information that's not exactly public. I'm not here to steal your work, Dr. Connors. On the contrary—I want to help."
"Help?" His brows furrowed, suspicion flickering across his face. "This project is years beyond public clearance. It's experimental. Dangerous. And yet you just… walk in here claiming to know?"
I gave a small shrug. "Knowledge is power, Doctor. You're chasing something revolutionary. Regeneration. Healing. Evolution. And I know the risks. That's why I came to you—not Oscorp's board, not your superiors. Just you."
Connors narrowed his eyes, searching my face for a lie. The weight of his scrutiny pressed down, but I held my ground.
Finally, he leaned back slightly, tension still in his shoulders. "You're either reckless… or you know something I don't. Either way, you've put yourself right in the middle of something that could change the world."
"And isn't that what you want?" I asked softly, almost daring him.
Connors's eyes stayed fixed on me, waiting for an explanation. The silence stretched until I finally exhaled, leaning lightly against the edge of the workstation.
"I get it," I said quietly. "You're wondering how I know what I shouldn't, why I walked straight in here without flinching. The truth is… I have certain abilities."
Connors's brow furrowed, his pen pausing halfway to the notepad. "Abilities?" he repeated cautiously.
I nodded, keeping my tone vague but deliberate. "Let's call it… enhancement. I can take ordinary, non-living things and push them far beyond what they were meant to be. Stronger, faster, smarter. Technology, tools. I can make them… more."
The doctor's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion blending with intrigue. "That sounds… convenient," he said slowly.
"Convenient, yes," I admitted with a faint smile. "But not limitless. And not something I wave around carelessly. I'm telling you this because I think it could be useful—to you, to your work. Imagine your serum tested, supported, or even safeguarded by things that won't fail under pressure."
I let the words hang, careful not to push too hard. The ambiguity was intentional.
Connors leaned back, tapping his pen against the notepad. His expression gave nothing away, but the way his jaw tightened told me he was processing every word.
Connors's pen finally stilled. He set it down, adjusting his glasses as his eyes sharpened.
"You'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word," he said carefully. "Science requires evidence. If you truly have this… ability, then show me."
I gave a small shrug. "Fair enough. What do you have in mind?"
Connors scanned the lab, his gaze landing on an old microscope sitting on the counter—an outdated model clearly kept around as backup. He picked it up and placed it in front of me.
"This is obsolete," he explained. "Half the parts are worn. Show me what you claim to do."
I rested my hand on the cool metal frame.
"System," I murmured under my breath, just loud enough for myself. "Strengthen this Microscope. Two times."
The microscope shimmered faintly, its dull surface sharpening, its lenses clearing until they gleamed with crystal-like precision. Within seconds, the outdated piece of junk had transformed into something sleek, modern, and almost alien in refinement.
Connors's eyes widened. He immediately pulled it toward himself and peered into the eyepiece. His breath caught.
"…Incredible," he muttered. "The clarity… this is beyond any microscope Oscorp has in its budget." He looked back at me, his expression a mixture of awe and suspicion. "How did you—no, what are you?"
I simply smiled, slipping my hands into my pockets. "Like I said… someone who can make things more."
Dr. Connors studied me in silence for a
moment, his brow furrowed in suspicion and curiosity. Then, with a quiet sigh, he turned to one of the metal drawers on the side of the lab bench. From inside, he carefully pulled out a small glass vial filled with a greenish liquid. Even through the glass, it seemed to shimmer faintly, almost alive.
"This," he said, holding it between two fingers, "is not something I hand out lightly. If what you claim is true… show me. Strengthen it." His eyes locked on mine, sharp and unblinking.
I smirked and took the vial from his hand. The glass felt cool, the serum swirling as if it knew it was being judged. Alright, let's put on a show.
"System," I murmured under my breath, just loud enough for myself. "Strengthen this vial. Two times."
A faint hum rippled through my hand. For an instant, the serum glowed, the green hue intensifying, becoming brighter, purer. It almost pulsed like a heartbeat before settling down again.
I held it out to him with a casual grin. "There. Improved. Twice as effective, twice as stable. Go on—test it."
Connors snatched it back with surprising speed, holding it up to the light. His scientific instincts took over as he examined the changed texture and glow. His jaw tightened. His fingers trembled. "Impossible… this shouldn't be… the molecular stability is—perfect. This would take years of refinement." His voice shook with awe.
I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. "Told you I wasn't lying."
Connors looked up at me, his eyes almost wild. "Do you realize what this means? This could… This could cure everything. Regeneration, lost limbs, diseases—this is—"
I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Slow down, Doc. I didn't do that out of charity."
He blinked. "What do you want?"
I smirked, pointing to the drawer he had pulled from earlier. "Payment. One vial. For myself. That should be fair, don't you think? You get perfection… I get a little something for my trouble."
Connors hesitated, clutching the perfected vial tightly. His scientist's mind was warring with his survival instincts. But in the end, desperation won. He turned back to the drawer, pulled out another vial, and placed it carefully on the counter between us.
"Fine," he muttered. "But understand—if you misuse this, the consequences could be catastrophic."
I slid the vial into my pocket with a grin. "Relax. I'm not reckless. Think of it as… insurance."