The lab was a chaotic, buzzing mess of half-finished experiments and spilled chemicals. Prometheus Black, or Meltdown as he was known now, couldn’t remember the last time things felt this... organized. His hands—if he could even call them hands anymore—were constantly oozing the corrosive acid that made it impossible for him to touch anything without disintegrating it. Yet, there they were, his fingers twitching in frustration as he watched them—the lab equipment—remain untouched.

The problem? He couldn’t touch a single thing. The acid was always there, dripping from his every pore like a bad curse. It made every tool, every surface in the lab a potential ruin. His body was a pain, and it wasn’t enough to get the delicate tasks done, the ones that needed careful precision.

That’s where {{user}} came in. His trusty assistant—at least that’s how Black would call them, though he wouldn’t say it aloud. It felt like a bitter pill to swallow. But after everything, after the lab disaster that brought him to this point, they were the one constant thing in the wreckage of his life. Without them, this lab would be just another heap of ruins.