He wasn't always like this. He wasn't always insane. He wasn't always broken. They didn't understand. They didn't understand his goals, his ambitions. They didn't realize his genius. They were fools for leaving. Too scared of what they could accomplish. Of what they could achieve.

Funding for his research was gone. His team of faithful scientists left. Now it was just him, all alone. But he was stubborn. He wouldn't let his years of work go to waste, no, he couldn't. This was his life's work! Even without money or a team, he had to continue. To keep working. He hadn't left his apartment in weeks. He didn't have the money to pay bills or rent. All his money was going towards his work.

Papers were scattered across his desk, bottles and chemicals covering his workspace. His hands were in his hair, pulling at the tangled mess as he stared down at the most recent eviction notice. His wallet was empty, he had spent the last bit of cash he had to buy more chemicals. He was supposed to be out by the end of the week. There was no way to afford any other apartment, he had moved to the cheapest place he could after the funding for his research was pulled. He already sold all his belongings too, leaving him nothing.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was a genius. He was destined for so much greater than this. And yet, everything was gone. This wasn't fair. His work was sufficient, beyond that! It was perfect. He just needed a bit more time to perfect it, to finalize his work. But he didn't have time. His time was almost up.

He stared at a beaker filled with liquid chemicals, his eyes glassy and lifeless. It was close enough. It had to be close enough. He couldn't afford treatment, even if he wanted to. This was the only shot he had. The only chance he had to live, and to prove his genius.

If this didn't kill him, then the cancer slowly spreading through his body surely would. But if this works, well then, he would go down in history. He would be the man to cure cancer. He would be a hero. He would be a god.

Grabbing the beaker, he tugged open one of the drawers of his desk. He dug through the junk, before pulling out a syringe. He dipped the tip of the needle into the liquid, sucking as much as he could into the barrel. The live tests never killed the rodent subjects, so it wouldn't kill him, right?

Truthfully, it didn't matter. Death was just around the corner, stalking him while drawing closer by the day. He rolled up the sleeve of his lab coat, eyes scanning along the veins on his arm for a suitable injection point. After a deep breath or two, he slowly pressed the needle against his skin. It was a soft pinch, barely any pain. He pushed down on the piston of the syringe, letting the liquid flood his bloodstream.

His breathing wavered, the needle slipping from his grasp. His insides were burning, a horrible pain spreading through his body like no other he had felt before. He placed his hands onto the desk, gasping for air while choking on the blood in his throat. Everything was shaking, like he was on a mix of steroids and cocaine, as the agonizing pain continued to spread through his body.

The door to his apartment opened up, a fat man with a smoking cigarette hanging from his lips. "Look, I know the notice said we needed you out by the end of the week, but we got a couple interested in your apartment and—" the landlord took notice of the needle on the floor, blowing out a huff of smoke.

"Yeesh." He scoffed, "Clean up your damn needles, you heroin addict. I know a couple druggies live here, but I ain't covering for ya' when the cops come knocking."

His breathing was ragged, heavy. He glanced over his shoulder, a rabid look in his gaze, like some kind of beast. The landlord took a step back. "You deaf or sumthin'? I told ya, you gotta go!"

He pulled away from the support of the desk, stumbling forward as if he were some kind of zombie. Then, in a moment, he lunged forward.

The next morning, the cops were swarming in the apartment. The door had been left open, revealing the landlord's dead body on the ground. The tenant who lived in the apartment was long gone, no sign of him. The only thing he left behind was an empty syringe and a few beakers that were shattered.

One policeman scratched the back of his head, staring down at the corpse. "Jeez. This guy is mangled."

"Doesn't look like any weapons were used." A detective noted as he walked onto the scene, hands in his pockets. "Brute force, bruising along the neck. Clearly strangled to death. Though the neck... looks broken. Like the guy choking him managed to snap his bones."

"Ugh." The policeman shuddered at the thought.

"Take him to the coroner's office for a bodily inspection. The guy we're looking for has gotta be pretty strong if he can just snap someone's bones with his bare hands. Has someone gotten the file from the landlord's room?"

"Sir." Another policeman approached the detective. "There's no file for room 205. Someone must have taken it."

"And the footage from last night was completely erased. We got nothing." Another cop spoke.

The detective swore underneath his breath. "I don't want a damn murderer loose in the streets. Dust for fingerprints, find DNA, whatever. I want a suspect by the end of the day." He said, walking towards the door that was covered in police tape. "Whoever this scumbag is, I want him caught."

~•~

The train pulled into the station after the long journey across the country, while Grian scrolled through his phone to try and find the address of his new apartment. The intercom came to life overhead, a female voice coming through the speakers. "Attention Passengers, we have reached our final destination. Please gather your belongings and depart the train in a single-file line. Thank you."

Most of his stuff had already been shipped to his new address, so Grian didn't have much. Just a backpack and a suitcase filled with clothes and personal belongings. He grabbed his things, the train mostly empty in the back. The other carriages were packed with people heading into the city, with more people flooding in upon each stop.

He stepped onto the platform, the station bustling with life. People rushed from point a to point b, voices overlapping one another as many shoved through the busy crowds. Grian had lived in a rather small town for most of his life, so this was a quick change of pace from what he was used to. He swore internally, a bit overwhelmed from the sheer amount of noise surrounding him.

'I just need to find my apartment building,' He thought to himself, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat as he forced his legs to move into the crowd. The architect was rather short in stance, making it difficult to really get through. It felt like some people were just standing around, while others forcefully shoved their way up the stairs to head out of the train station. Grian was stuck in a strange limbo between the two, as he didn't want to force his way through, but he also didn't want to stand around and wait for the crowds to clear.

Jeez, this was gonna be a fun new life. Barely five minutes in the city and he's already trapped by the herds of people. He managed to squeeze through a few gaps in the crowd, though most shot dirty glares as he accidentally bumped into them. Grian kept his head low to avoid eye contact, quickening his pace as he made his way to the steps.

Things were luckily moving much quicker here, the people behind him like a wave forcefully shoving him up the steps. Sunlight was missing from the gray sky above, while the air was filled with dark smog that hurt Grian's lungs. The city was gloomy and tired, buildings reaching past the clouds in height. Cars were stuck in the street, with a constant honking ringing through the city. It was hard to focus on anything, especially with people flooding the sidewalk.

"Um, hey! Excuse me—, h-hi, can you—" The Brit tried to stop people as they passed, yet they avoided him like he had the Black Plague. Not even a glance from the city folk. Great. He sighed as he looked back and forth, before eventually setting on going with the flow of people in hopes of finding his new apartment.

He walked for a while, trying not to seem like a gullible tourist that was an easy target for a pickpocket. Trust no one, he thought. You can't trust anyone you meet on the streets. Once he meets more people at work, they can teach him some street smart tips. As unlikely as it was, he definitely didn't want to get mugged.

Clouds began to darken as he walked, more and more people breaking off from the crowd to head into hotels or offices or shops. Eventually the people around Grian began to pull out their umbrellas, holding it above their head as they hurried off. That was weird, it wasn't raining. He looked up at the dark sky, feeling a droplet of water fall onto his forehead and roll down his nose.

It came faster than Grian could process, a downpour suddenly coming out of nowhere like some kind of freak storm. Sheets of rain pounded against his clothes and hair, all of which were now sopping wet. The raindrops came down like bullets, as a clap of thunder echoed through the city.

Great. Just great. A day like this couldn't get worse.

Of course, it got worse.

A car managed to speed by, driving right through a large puddle of muck and rain that managed to splash Grian's already-soaked clothes. He grumbled something, probably cursing his luck in rage, stomping as he walked. This was definitely a good sign. His new life here was definitely a good choice. He definitely didn't miss his friends. And he definitely wasn't in denial!

Grian froze suddenly, the sound of ripping fabric causing his body to jerk to a halt. He took in a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder at the contents of his backpack, now spilled out onto the wet sidewalk. "I knew I should've gotten a new backpack.." He grumbled, kneeling in a puddle to try and scoop his belongings in his old bag.

He tried his best to grab everything, panicking slightly as everything seemed to fall apart in just moments of being here. He wanted to go home. To see his friends. This was stupid. Taking this job was stupid, even if it was his dream job. He wanted to quit and run back to Evo.

The rain stopped suddenly. Or at least, it stopped pounding on his back, though it continued to rain down around him. Grian glanced up, staring at a man who held an umbrella over his head. The man was getting soaked by the rain, sacrificing himself to shield the architect from the storm.

"Bald luck?" He asked, cracking a slight smile.

He was a tall man, with calm eyes that were a mix of green and brown hues. His raven black hair was already a sopping mess from the rain, his rather esteemed mustache slightly drooping as well. He was dressed sharp, wearing a three-piece suit with a deep crimson tie.

"The worst." Grian said, keeping his eyes to the ground as he finished shoving his stuff back into his torn backpack.

The man watched as the architect got back onto his feet, holding his backpack to his chest to stop his belongings from spilling out. Still, the man held the umbrella over Grian's head. He stared at the mustached man for a few moments, as if he were in shock.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Hm, no. I don't believe so." The man responded, shaking his head.

Grian blinked. "Then...why are you holding an umbrella over me?"

The man laughed a little. "What, you want to be left in the rain?"

"No, it's not that, it's just—"

"You thought everyone in the city were selfish dirtbags." He smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"U-um... Well, that's what I was warned of.." Grian mumbled, blushing from embarrassment.

"Well, it's true. Mostly, anyway. People can be selfish. I suppose you're not from around here, then?"

"No. I just moved here. My head is spinning, I feel like everything is going by so quickly!"

"It feels like that for the first little while. A city this busy can be intimidating. Do you know where you're going?"

Grian contemplated telling the man where he lived, then again, this was a complete stranger who he had just met. But...he was nice enough to stop and help.

"Not a clue." He admitted to the man, shaking his head. Grian pulled out his phone, showing the address to the mustached man. "This is my new address, but I have no idea how to get there."

The man laughed aloud. "Wow, what a coincidence! You live in my apartment building!"

"Wait, really?" Grian asked, a bit surprised.

"Yeah. It's mostly used for employee housing for multiple different businesses. Most everyone you meet there will be from the same few companies." He explained with a warm smile.

Grian felt a weight lift off his shoulder as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh my goodness, thank you. If you weren't here, I might have wandered for hours. Do you think you can take me there?"

"Of course! I was just on my way back. It's just around the corner."

"You're seriously my hero." Said the architect, running a hand through his wet hair. "I'm Grian, by the way."

"I'm Mumbo. It's nice to meet you."