Earth – France – Paris
A dimly lit laboratory, sterile white walls, and the faint hum of ventilation filled the air. Scattered across the steel workbenches were beakers, flasks, and intricate chemical apparatus—some familiar, others bordering on the esoteric. A faint acrid scent lingered, the unmistakable byproduct of repeated failed experiments.
At the center of it all, a young man stood motionless, his black curls damp with sweat beneath his protective goggles. His dark eyes fixated on the volatile liquid bubbling inside a conical flask, small tongues of blue and orange flames licking at the surface.
"Come on… just a little more," he muttered.
Lukas Moreau was, by all accounts, an unremarkable man. Born and raised in an orphanage, he had no name, no wealth, and no outstanding talent. Only sheer stubbornness had carried him through five grueling years at Paris University, where he pursued his passion—no, obsession—with combustion chemistry.
His thesis? The development of a highly reactive incendiary compound, one potent enough to ignite even the most fire-resistant materials. A breakthrough in controlled burning for deforestation projects, or, in the wrong hands, a potential weapon of mass destruction.
Before him, the concoction swirled—a mixture of chlorine trifluoride (ClF₃), one of the most dangerous oxidizers known to man, and an experimental gel-like napalm substitute.
Tssssssss…
A violent hiss escaped from the liquid as Lukas adjusted the heat. His breath caught. The solution began reacting unpredictably, tiny sparks dancing in the air.
Then—nothing.
The reaction died.
Another failure.
"Five years… Five fucking years!" Lukas snarled, his patience snapping.
In a fit of frustration, he slammed his fist onto the bench, knocking over a nearby container. His mind barely registered the label before the contents splashed onto the still-warm solution.
Acetone peroxide (TATP).
The moment the unstable compound made contact, a terrifying realization dawned on Lukas.
Oh… shit.
BOOOOOOM!
The explosion erupted with the force of a concentrated firestorm, engulfing the laboratory in a blinding inferno. Flames roared around him, consuming his skin, his flesh—his very existence—until all that remained was the searing agony of fire.
As his consciousness faded, only a single thought echoed in his mind.
"If only I was good at something… just one thing…"
And then, darkness.