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The elevator opened with a soft chime, and Morbius stepped out into silence. Dr. Jacob Weisenthal's penthouse hadn't changed. The last time Morbius had stepped foot here he was normal, human. 

Books lined every available surface, arranged with the kind of obsessive precision that spoke to either genius or madness, though with Jacob, it was always a little of both. Floor to ceiling windows gave way to a view of the city's glittering sprawl, a stark contrast to the sterile quiet within. Soft jazz murmured from a record player in the corner, it felt like centuries since Morbius had last sat with his old friend listening to records.

Morbius moved like a shadow through the room, soundless but undeniable. Jacob emerged from the kitchen in slippers and a bathrobe, a glass of something amber in hand. He froze mid-step when he saw him, almost dropping his glass before regaining his composure.

"Michael."

Morbius didn't smile. Unfortunately this wasn't the reunion Jacob had wished for.

"I need your help."

Jacob stared for a long second, then exhaled through his nose and set the glass down. "Of course you do." He walked past without fear, maybe out of old familiarity, maybe because he'd learned long ago that fear was wasted on Morbius. He gestured to the leather couch. "Sit, or brood. Either way, make yourself at home. You already let yourself in." Morbius stood, unmoving, then drew the vial from his coat and held it out. Jacob took it carefully between thumb and forefinger, squinting at the worn lettering. "‘Trial Use Only' ...Where did you find this?"

"In an alley." Morbius said bluntly. "Beside a body with no blood left. Not drained the way I'd do it. No marks. No mess. Just ..nothing."

Jacob glanced up, something flickering behind his eyes. Not fear. Concern. "You're saying it wasn't you."

"If it was..." Morbius retorted "I wouldn't be here."

Jacob turned, moving to a small desk tucked beneath a wall of medical texts. He flicked on a lamp and withdrew a case of clean instruments. "This isn’t consumer tech." he muttered. "No ID number. Nothing commercial. Probably prototype. Experimental." He uncapped the syringe, sniffed delicately, then froze.

Morbius watched him. "You recognize it?"

"I don't know what it is." Jacob said slowly. "But I know what it isn't. This isn't anesthetic. It isn't a blood thinner, and it's not a street drug. This is something else entirely. I'll need a proper analysis. Mass spectrometry, maybe." He stopped, looked back at Morbius. "You sure you want to know what this is?"

Morbius' voice was low, but steady. "I need to know who else has been playing god in my city."

Jacob nodded. "Give me a few nights."

Morbius turned to leave but hesitated at the glass doors leading to the balcony. He glanced back over his shoulder, his silhouette distorted in the reflection. "Jacob." he said, his voice sounding almost human again. "Thank you."

Jacob didn't look up, still inspecting the vial in his hands. "You can thank me when this doesn't lead to something worse."

Morbius stepped into the night. A moment later, he was gone. For Morbius, it only ever lead to something worse.