The air inside the lab was cold enough to send a small shiver down Zack’s spine. He slowly made his way to his designated room, and took a deep breath before walking in. He placed his phone and keys on a small tray near the door, and took some time to look around.
He shivered again. It always took a while for him to get used to the temperature, but he knew it was a necessary evil in order to keep all those computers from overheating. At the center of the room there was a metallic container – a machine, the shape of which just happened to be perfectly human sized. Its inside was lined with leather cushions, and protruding from the sides there were several tubes and cables.
A few people in labcoats already milled about, preparing things and checking their clipboards. One of them looked up from their task as Zack walked further in the room.
“Good morning,” they greeted. The other scientists all muttered greetings of their own, too engrossed in their tasks to bother looking up.
Zack waved in return, but remained silent. He placed his hands inside his pockets, observing the activity in the room. He then fixed his gaze on the group of scientists, who were all huddled over next to a computer.
After a while, one of them quietly approached the machine at the center of the room, flipping a few switches. It quietly whirred to life. The man looked at Zack, and motioned to it.
“You can go in now,” he said, and immediately turned his attention to something else.
Zack nodded in response, and walked over to a small restroom area. It was all procedure, and so no one needed to guide him on where to go or what to do. First, he removed his sneakers. He was paid quite well considering his occupation, but his sneakers were still old and beat up, a pair he bought several years ago. He knew he could afford something better, but he liked how these felt on his feet. He placed the sneakers to the side, and took off his socks. There was a basket in the corner, and he quickly tossed the socks in after balling them up.
It was a warm day, despite what the overly air-conditioned room would lead him to believe, and so he had not put on any sort of jacket, which he usually did when leaving home. He liked the leather ones, it always made him feel like a badass. But for now, he was wearing a simple short-sleeved button up shirt, something a little nicer for such a place. It was white, elegant, and completely devoid of wrinkles, perfect for fitting in with all the intellectual types walking around in the lab.
He slowly unbuttoned it from the bottom up, and tossed the shirt on the basket. He looked at the figure reflected on the mirror. He had the muscular body that most athletes are known for, even though his sport of choice didn’t involve any physical labor. His muscles came from exercise, purely an aesthetic choice, although he did appreciate the strength his body provided him.
He unbuckled his belt, and after hesitating for a bit, he also tossed it in the basket. He still wasn’t sure if these would get sent to a laundry, or if the basket was just there for storage. He shook his head, and pulled his jeans down alongside his boxer briefs, before tossing them on the basket.
Now fully unclothed, the cold air bothered him even more. He sighed, and walked out of the restroom.
The scientists paid no mind to him, unbothered by his nudity, and so he quickly climbed onto the machine. Someone had covered the cushions with a silk fabric, and Zack couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it felt on his skin. He laid still, waiting for the procedure.
One of the scientists was busying herself with the vials of oxycodipine, loading the liquid into several containers attached to the machine. Another scientist walked over to assist her, and soon they were both hovering over Zack, sticking sensors into his skin to check his vitals.
The heart monitor came to life with the steady rhythm of his heartbeats, which increased ever so slightly as he braced for what was to come. He stared at the ceiling as the scientists inserted needles in key spots all over his body, from which the oxycodipine would be slowly administered into his body, drop by drop. A mask was placed over his face, and the smell of the anesthetic assaulted his nostrils.
His vision slowly blurred as his consciousness left him, but he knew that he’d remain in the machine for several hours as it fed oxycodipine into his body. By the time it was done his body would change, even if for a limited time.
Like the heroes from the ancient mythologies, Zack would become immortal.
The club was almost totally empty, despite the hour. It was late at night on a weekend, and Hayden knew that by this point most people would be out partying. But this place was far enough away from town that it managed to keep itself hidden from public attention.
Still, there was music blaring on the main floor, and a few people milled about, dancing the night away. There were a few couples huddled over in the corners discreetly making out, and Hayden pretended not to notice a woman quietly slip her hand down her partner’s jeans.
He headed for the flight of stairs to the east of the main entrance. It was being guarded by a burly security guard, who stepped aside for him. Hayden nodded at the man, and quickly made his way upstairs. On the second floor, there was a small hallway at the end of which there was a single door. As he walked through the hallway, he could still hear the music from downstairs, the beat of the song somehow syncing with the beat of his own heart.
He opened the door and quickly slid in. The door was enough to block some of the noise, and now he felt like he could finally think again. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the beat up couch at the makeshift living room, set up so it was facing an equally beat up TV. Sitting on it was a man with short black hair, similar in color to his sunglasses and leather pants.
The man glanced at Hayden as he walked in, a beer bottle hovering just under his lips. His eyes peeked from under the sunglasses, bright green.
“What took you so long, man?” he said, before taking a swig from his beer.
Hayden sat down on the armchair beside the couch. He eyed the rest of the room, noticing a woman sitting on the couch and, leaning against the wall, a man with huge tattooed biceps watched over the room.
“I thought I had arrived on time,” Hayden said, turning his attention back to the man on the couch.
The man scratched the beard on his chin. “Whatever. What do you got?”
Hayden reached for his jacket pocket, and pulled a roll of bills from it, tightly held by a rubber band. He tossed them on the coffee table at the center, while the man watched him intently. He then reached for his other pocket, retrieving another roll just as big as the first one. And finally, he did the same for the pockets on his pants, and by the end there were a total of five rolls of cash on the table.
“That’s the week’s profit,” Hayden said.
The man quietly placed his beer bottle on the coffee table, and reached for one of the rolls. He examined it closely, and took the rubber band out before beginning to count the money. Once he was done, he placed the money back on the table and picked up the next roll. He repeated this until all rolls were counted.
“That’s about four thousand silvers,” the man said. “Not bad.”
He stayed silent for a while. Hayden was unsure of what to do, and for a few moments silence hung over the room, interrupted only by the muffled beats from the club downstairs.
“Is there something you wanna say, Nero?” Hayden finally broke the silence.
The man on the couch, Nero, adjusted the sunglasses over his face. His head then snapped towards Hayden.
“Yep! Not bad,” he repeated. “I’m just thinking that… well, it could’ve been better, you know.”
Hayden raised an eyebrow. “I’ve sold everything you gave me. I don’t know what–”
“I know, I know,” Nero waved a hand at Hayden. “Relax, okay? The problem is not you.” He reached for the beer again, before taking another swig. “It’s the product we’re moving.”
“You think it’s not selling well?” Hayden said, a bit incredulous.
“Oh, it’s selling well,” Nero motioned to the money on the table. “But the market’s been a little disappointing. There’s other markets we could expand to.”
Hayden raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Nitro,” the woman on the couch interrupted them.
Nero looked at her, surprised at her sudden outburst, and smiled. “What Theia said.” He looked back at Hayden. “Apparently it’s the most expensive neutroactivator that we can get our hands on.”
“Is that what you want to start selling now?” Hayden said.
“We don’t have to do a complete switch,” Nero said. “Just, you know... start offering a new product.”
“There’s a problem, though,” Theia piped up. “We can’t cook any right now. There’s a very specific crystal that’s needed to synthesize nitriodyn. That’s why it’s so expensive.”
Hayden looked at her, and then at Nero. Both of them were looking at him expectantly.
“I’m a dealer. How the fuck am I supposed to get some crystal no one has ever heard of?”
“Listen, I know a guy,” Nero said, still smiling. “I can get in touch with him, and you just have to pick it up. It’s a bit of a drive, north of Nekroi City, but you’ll find him.”
Hayden sighed. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Nero took another swig from his beer, before glancing at the coffee table. “Oh yeah,” he said, as he grabbed one of the stacks he’d placed on the table. “Here’s your cut, big boy.”
He handed the stack to Hayden, who cautiously took it and shoved it back in the jacket pocket. He sunk back into the armchair, lazily staring at the TV.
“How was the juice anyway?” Nero asked. “You don’t usually sell so much so quickly.”
Hayden looked over at him again. “Oh, that… some guy bought ten vials.”
Nero scoffed. “Holy shit, he must have been planning one hell of a party. Was he like a celebrity or something?”
“I don’t know.” Hayden had the slightest hint of a smile on his face. But then his eyes widened as he recalled the events of that day. He checked the date on his phone. “He told me to tune in to Channel 5. I think there should be something airing today.”
Nero furrowed his eyebrows, but switched the TV to Channel 5 as he was told. The four people in the room now had their attention on the screen.
There seemed to be a competition of some kind, like a race. The track was currently being filmed by a drone, and an anchorperson spoke over the footage. Hayden didn’t pay attention to what they were saying, as his attention was on the track. It was sleek and illuminated by various colorful lights, and certain areas had bright yellow arrows that blinked like neon signs.
The track had several twists and turns reminiscent of a roller-coaster. Not only that, but in certain areas the track was cut off, leaving a huge gap that the pilots would presumably have to jump over.
The drone footage was then replaced by a closer view of the starting line, where all the cars were lined up as they waited for the race to start. They were all equipped with massive thrusters, and spoilers that looked more like wings. The design was sleek, probably built to be as aerodynamic as possible. Each of them was painted a different color, and Hayden guessed there were probably about 40 or 50 of them in total.
“What the fuck, this is awesome!” Nero said, leaning forward on his seat.
The camera briefly sweeped by the pilots, a few of them getting in their cars, while other were stretching or drinking bottled water. One of the pilots caught Hayden’s attention. He was wearing his helmet, but the blue eyes were incredibly familiar. And poking out from under it, he could just barely make out a lock of dirt blond hair.
“That’s him!” Hayden exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “That’s the guy who bought all the juice!”
“Holy shit, no way!” Nero said. He grabbed another bottle from a case on the floor, and tossed it to Hayden. “Get yourself comfortable brother, this is gonna be interesting.”
No one dared utter another word, as the group had their eyes fixed on the dingy TV in front of them, patiently waiting for the race to begin. Hayden had the feeling he was about to watch something that he’d truly never seen before.