"It does what now?" Marcus asked, his brow knitting as he watched Emma carefully.
Emma Walker didn't glance up from the sample, already turning a glass vial slowly between two gloved fingers. The substance inside shimmered faintly under the lab lights—almost translucent, with a slight violet tint that caught the eye in a way normal narcotics never did.
"It triggers acute myofibrillar hypertrophy the moment it enters the bloodstream," she said, voice steady and clinical. "That means muscle fibers expand near-instantly. I'm not talking about long-term growth like anabolic steroids. I'm talking immediate enhancement—strength, speed, reflexes. All of it."
Marcus narrowed his gaze at the vial, arms crossed, cigarette long since burned down to the filter and forgotten. "How the hell is that even possible?"
Emma exhaled, setting the vial back in its holder with care. "It shouldn't be. Not with any known compound. And I've been doing this for over twenty years, Marcus—I've seen every controlled substance the black market's cooked up and then some. But this?" She reached for a second slide on the table and slid it under the microscope. "There's something in it I can't identify. A molecular structure that doesn't match anything in our databases. I ran it three times—it's not synthetic in any traditional sense, and it's not plant-based either. It's like..." She trailed off, tapping the side of the microscope. "Like it's halfway between a protein and a mutagen. It behaves like a biological agent, but it's not following any biochemical rules I know."
Marcus stayed quiet, nodding slowly as if he understood—though the growing chill in his gut had nothing to do with chemistry. His hand slipped into his coat pocket, thumbing his phone. Emma was smart. Too smart. Sooner or later, she'd get too close to the truth. And right now, the truth was laid out in a sealed evidence tray, glowing faintly under lab light.
He turned away slightly and tapped out a message to the Suits with quick, practiced fingers. Drug laced with something supernatural. Possibly vampiric. Suspect dilution method to slow addiction onset. Get here ASAP.
He locked the screen before she noticed.
"How many samples are there, Emma?" he asked, tucking the phone away again.
Emma straightened, pulling off one glove with a snap. "Three, including the one I'm analyzing. We had five in total, but I used two for initial testing—gas chromatography and cellular impact trials."
Her eyes flicked back to the strange fluid, and she murmured, more to herself than him, "Just what the hell are you?"
"I think we should leave this one to the Suits," Marcus said, folding his arms as he watched Emma scribble something down in her notes. "They're more informed about this kind of thing than we are."
It wasn't a lie. Hell, it wasn't even a stretch. The Suits were hunters—trained, armed, and more than capable of dealing with the unnatural. And honestly, it wouldn't surprise him if this was something they cooked up themselves. A combat booster for field agents. Something to help level the playing field against vampires, lycans, werewolves or worse.
Emma stopped writing.
She turned to him slowly, one brow arching high. "Are you insulting my capabilities, Marcus?"
He lifted his hands in exaggerated surrender, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, no. Not at all. I'm just saying they might—and I mean might—know more than you, oh great and powerful Emma."
Emma huffed and crossed her arms, but the twitch at the edge of her lips gave her away. She always reminded Marcus of a hissing kitten—irritated, bristling, but somehow more adorable than threatening when she was annoyed.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she muttered, turning her nose up.
"Didn't think it would," he said, grin widening.
She sighed and looked back at the vial under the light, voice softer now. "I just... I wanted to figure this out myself, you know? Something unknown. Undocumented. Unexplained." Her fingers traced the edge of the table absently. "The idea of uncovering something that's never been seen before—it's hard to let go of that."
Marcus stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder, which was easier said than done. Emma was small. Not just short—tiny. More than once, people had joked she looked like someone who'd skipped puberty entirely. And of course, Marcus—with his towering frame—ended up the default comparison in every punchline.
He gave her a squeeze. "I get it. But this isn't about pride or curiosity anymore. If this stuff spreads and we don't know exactly how it works—or how to stop it—it won't be just another mystery. It'll be a problem. For all of us."
Emma was quiet for a moment before she nodded, arms dropping back to her sides.
"I know. You're right. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though." She took a breath, then stepped back and stretched with a long yawn. "Alright. Can you be a dear, Marcus, and put those away in that top cabinet over there?" She pointed toward one tucked high into the corner, clearly out of her reach. "I'm starving. You all got lunch while I've been inhaling chemical fumes for three hours."
Before Marcus could reply, she was already halfway down the hall, her lab coat flaring behind her like a cape.
He chuckled under his breath, reaching down to carefully pocket the vial instead of stashing it. He had no intention of locking it away. This needed to go to Alexa—if anyone could figure out what the hell this was, it'd be her.
"That mage probably knows how alchemy works, right?" he muttered, already heading out of the lab to go to her.