The air inside the warehouse was thick with strange chemical smells, sharp and bitter, making your eyes water. You stepped carefully between stacks of crates until you caught sight of a man standing over a cluttered workbench, flames flickering under a set of makeshift burners.

He was tall, blond hair swept over one eye, dressed far too sharply for the dingy surroundings, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black vest spattered with faint chemical stains. A cigarette hung from his lips as he stirred a bubbling flask with casual precision.

Without looking up, he spoke, his voice smooth but edged with irritation. “Unless you’re here to deliver fresh ingredients or cash, you shouldn’t be breathing my air right now.” Finally, he glanced your way, exhaling smoke. “So… which one is it?”

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