[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjg4LmZiZjgwZS5RWEpoYlNCVFpXTnlkV1UsLjAA/the-godfather.regular.png[/img][/center] A couple of hours after returning from his trip to the lab... Aram stomped tiredly up the steps leading to his apartment. [i][color=fff78a]Today's been a long one...[/color][/i] he thought. He lived alone. Despite his talkative nature and overall social tendencies, he liked living alone. It gave him time to think. Time to do things he enjoyed, rather than get cats out of trees or [i]almost die in an excluded, creepy, abandoned laboratory...[/i] He reached his door, taking off his fedora and withdrawing a key from his breast pocket, before opening it and stepping inside. He then removed his suit, placing it and his hat on the coat-rack near the door. These objects were closely followed by his satchel and his armor. He continued to plop on the couch, lazily grabbing the remote and turning on the TV after removing his shoes. It came on, already showing his preferred channel. The only channel he watched, really. The screen displayed a black and white scene; a man in a fedora and pinstripe suit holding a Thompson Submachine gun, which he had pointed at a detective and a woman. [color=f7976a]"Don't do it, big Tony. This isn't what you want. The twelve'll be on you like wine on rice, Tony! Drop the gun."[/color] [color=6ecff6]"Quiet, detective! Nobody asked for your two-cents-worth!"[/color] the man on the left said, brandishing his gun. [color=f7976a]"You can still leave here alive, Tony! Just let us walk.."[/color] the detective pleaded. [color=6ecff6]"I said dummy-up!"[/color] Aram got up from the couch after having been watching for a minute, and moved to the kitchen. He'd seen the whole series at least a dozen times. He'd seen all the movies. Watching the same thing over and over again got boring after a while... He went to fridge, taking out a couple of carrots before moving to the counter, and placing them on a chopping board as he grabbed a nearby knife. He began chopping while listening to the Television. [color=fff79a][i]Can't wait for that remake they're puttin' together. But they better keep the originality. If they screw that up, I don't know what I'll watch.[/i][/color] he thought. [color=fff79a][i]That'd be swell, yeah. I could dig that. A classical remake. I've been needing a little boost...I don't feel myself-[/i][/color] his thought was interrupted when he accidentally nicked his finger with the knife. [color=fff200]"Ah, hell!"[/color] he exclaimed, dropping the knife and instinctively sucking on his finger. He bent to pick up the knife with his other hand, [color=fff200]"Ah, whatever. I was done anyway."[/color] He dropped the knife in the sink. [color=fff79a][i]Excuse my French...[/i][/color]he thought to himself as he fetched a bowl for the carrots. A knock at the door. [color=fff79a]Huh?[/color] he looked back towards the door as he reached into his cupboard, groping for a bowl. He ended up catching the edge of one, which was promptly pushed off the edge of the shelf, falling to the floor. It, obviously, shattered. Aram face-palmed. He stomped over to the door, opening it without looking through the peep-hole. [color=fff200]"What's up wiseguy? I'm tryna get some shut-eye in he-"[/color] There was no one there. He shifted his foot out the door, kicking something that had been lying on the other side of it. Aram looked down and saw a small, round, clay-looking jar. Looking left and right for a sign of anyone, he stooped down to pick it up. It had a tag. [center]---------------------------- To: Aram From: An admirer To your future success. -----------------------------------[/center] Once again looking for a sign of anyone, Aram turned back inside, closing and locking the door. [color=fff79a][i]Where did this come from?[/i][/color] He thought. [color=fff79a][i]Secret admirer? Future success?[/i][/color] Examining the pot, Aram found it to be made of clay. It smelt, looked and felt like clay. He tried to open it, to no avail. The cork was stuck. [color=fff200]"Hmm..."[/color] He drew a wooden plate from his satchel as he passed it. Putting the plate on the kitchen counter, he placed one hand on it, and used the other to hold the small pot. Black energy arced through his body, traveling to the foreign object. He aimed to transmute the cork off to get a look at what was inside. The energy moved to the jar, doing as it normally did, and forming with it. Aram waited for a second. Then five. Then ten...as he stared at it. [color=fff200]"WHAT THE DEVIL?![/color] he shouted, dropping it on the floor and falling backwards. It hit the floor, but didn't break. Aram slowly, and reluctantly, reached to pick it up and inspect it. No cracks. He examined it further. He noticed that it had very dark, purple etchings in it that protruded slightly from the rest of the jar's surface. They sort of looked like tentacles. [color=fff79a][i]What...how...it..it's not affected by my Alchemy? How's that even possible?[/i][/color] [i]You're too weak.[/i] [color=fff79a][i]No...No, there was no rebound...If it was my fault there would have been a rebound.[/i][/color] [i]Too. Weak.[/i] Aram shook his head. He stood up, taking the jar to a shelf across the room, and placing it where he could see it easily. He went to his bed and laid down on it, fetching his phone and dialing a number from memory. [color=fff200]"Hello? Aram Secrue for Administrator of Alchemy."[/color] After that call, he would lay there, staring at the wall. He left his carrots on the counter, and the bowl in pieces on the floor. After twenty minutes, he fell asleep.