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Four years ago, I made the Formula. Now I have to make the Serum out of it.

Four Years Ago. Noegard.
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Ake was walking home from the chemical shop when he though of it. The Formula. Ultimate DNA redactor that will change everything.
– Holy fucking Jesus…
He started running. It was 7 o’clock afternoon. No one could see him running barefoot at the speed of a BMW, with a backpack full of dangerous chemicals.
When he opened the door of his apartment, the first thing he did was digging in the papers on his worktable. He stole it from an office near his building. Some office company became a bankrupt, and Ake used that lil’ chance, when they were throwing all the furniture outta window into the trash on the street. And now, on that table, made in Sweden by a legendary company, he was writing it. The Formula of Reptile Transformation. Yes, he needed it. What shouldhe do with himself then? Scallies on the MOST intimate parts, giant problems with shoes, who became his arch-nemesis, claws that must be cut or sharpened for weeks: he needed The Serum to find the Anti-Serum. That’s steel-hard logic!
He writed some of the chemical formulas on a small sheet of paper. Tricarbon… Hydrogen… Pottasium and a pinch of Chlorine. Plus over ten more ingredients and the serum would be ready. But is there a fucking possible way to make it?
He sat down. No way.
– I cannot find the way. It’s almost impossible, and in my small lab… Shit just how?
Slamming the desk, he asks questions: why you, Great Smoke, left my mother? And me? Why the fuck would you?
After slamming the desk one more time, he made its white plastic surface to shatter.
– Maybe because you fear me?


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