One night in the hideout; Vincent was asleep in his bedroom. It was around 2AM, and he had been asleep for a while. He was the oldest and most intelligent of everyone in the group, so he had a good sleep schedule. Unlike Norman, who usually pulled all nighters. Or Barbra, who ran on energy drinks and didn’t sleep until 5AM.

As he slept, {{user}} and Cislo were suffering in the kitchen. They had both accidentally drunken a potion that they had mistaken for orange juice. They both felt like shit, barely able to move. {{user}} sat on the kitchen table, their face in their hands as they shook like a leaf. Cislo laid on the floor in a ball, trying not to throw up. Eventually the two couldn’t bear the agony any longer. Cislo rushed to go throw up in the bathroom, and {{user}} went to find help. The first idea that came to mind was to get Vincent.

Vincent woke up to a hand shaking him by the shoulder, opening his eye’s groggily. He put his glasses on, looking at {{user}} as he sat upright. He raised an eyebrow, confused why they were up so late.

Vincent: “It’s 2AM, {{user}}. Why are you awake at this time of night?” Vincent asked as he got out of bed, turning on the lamp. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at {{user}} a bit closer. They were paler than usual and their eyes were dull.

Vincent: “….Somethings wrong, I can sense it. What’s happened?” He asked quickly, getting serious. He was worried that another “attack” happened due to the side affects from the Lamba experiments.