The storm outside Hell's Kitchen raged all through the early hours of the morning.
Inside the subterranean darkness of his cellar, Jack stood in front of his wooden workbench.
The $4.5 million in stolen bearer bonds and raw diamonds sat securely hidden beneath a loose concrete floorboard near the back wall.
He didn't rush to convert them into cash just yet. High-value assets like those required time, precision, and the right contacts to fence without drawing the eyes of Kingpin's financial auditors.
Right now, Jack had a far more important project.
On his table sat fresh, professional-grade glassware he had purchased over the last twelve hours using his liquid funds:
Borosilicate glass beakers, condensers, and distillation columns.
A digital heating mantle and precision micro-gram scales.
Pressurized steel canisters and high-grade rubber hoses.
A selection of precursor industrial chemicals—nitrous oxide compounds, mild neurotoxins, and botanical extracts purchased from multiple commercial suppliers across Queens and Brooklyn.
Total cost: $1,850.00.
Jack pulled his remaining cash from his pocket to verify his balance.
[ Current Status ]
Host Synchronization: 2.3%
Available Cash: $1,404.00 ($3,254 - $1,850)
Hidden Reserve: $4.5M in Bearer Bonds & Diamonds
Unlocked Traits: Poker Face (Tier 1), Basic Instincts of Chaos, Street Brawling, Chemical Intuition (Basic)
Jack pulled his industrial filtration mask over his nose and mouth, tightening the rubber straps behind his head.
He turned on the heating mantle.
The low hum of electrical current filled the quiet basement.
With Chemical Intuition (Basic) now active in his mind, the dangerous world of organic synthesis felt as natural to him as breathing.
He didn't need to consult textbook formulas. He instinctively understood the thermal stability, volatility, and neuro-chemical reactions of every compound on his desk.
He wasn't trying to create the full, fatal Joker Venom that melted facial muscles and caused violent heart failure—not at 2.3% synchronization.
He was creating a prototype. A lighter, non-lethal, highly volatile variant.
For four straight hours, Jack worked in total concentration.
He distilled the botanical extracts under vacuum pressure, isolating a specific alkaloid that targeted the central nervous system's facial motor nerves.
He stabilized the volatile liquid with a trace nitrous base, converting the mixture into a pressurized, pale-green gas.
Hiss...
The green vapor condensed inside a sealed glass reaction vessel, swirling softly under the dim amber light of his desk lamp.
Jack leaned closer, watching the pale green mist hover inside the glass.
The chemical structure was unique. Upon inhalation, it forced an involuntary spasm in the zygomaticus muscles—forcing the victim into an uncontrollable, hysterical fit of laughter while paralyzing their vocal cords and motor coordination for up to ten minutes.
It was a weapon of pure, terrifying disruption.
Jack carefully transferred the gas into three compact, hand-sized steel canisters equipped with micro-impact detonators.
Click.
He set the third canister down into a foam-lined case on his workbench.
A sudden, deep violet prompt illuminated the darkness of his vision.
[ System Achievement Unlocked! ]
Milestone: Synthesize your first Joker-pattern chemical agent (Laughing Gas Prototype - Mark I).
[ Rewards Issued: ]
Synchronization: +0.4% (Current Total: 2.7%)
System Cash Deposited: $500.00
Jack felt a cold, refreshing wave of mental clarity sweep through his mind.
The 2.7% synchronization sharpened his senses even further, lowering his resting heart rate and refining his physical reflexes.
He looked down at the three dull green canisters resting in front of him.
"Mark One," Jack whispered behind his mask, his pale eyes sparkling with dark amusement.
"Let's see how Manhattan reacts when the joke is finally delivered."
Midnight brought a cold, biting rain back to Hell's Kitchen.
In a narrow, dead-end alley off 11th Avenue, four lower-level enforcers belonging to a small-time loan shark operation were huddled under a metal awning. They were counting cash taken from local shopkeepers, their voices loud and careless in the quiet night.
High above them on the fire escape, Jack stood silent, his dark trench coat blending seamlessly into the brickwork.
He pulled one of the steel canisters of the Mark I prototype from his coat pocket.
Using his Basic Instincts of Chaos, he calculated the wind direction and the narrow alley's air circulation in a split second.
Click.
Jack twisted the micro-detonator cap and tossed the canister down.
It bounced off a stacked wooden pallet with a faint metallic thud, landing right in the middle of the group.
"What the hell is that?" one of the thugs grunted, reaching down toward the metal cylinder.
Psssssssh!
The canister burst open, releasing a pressurized cloud of pale-green vapor that expanded rapidly within the enclosed alley space.
Before any of the men could draw a weapon or back away, they inhaled the gas.
The effect was instantaneous.
The lead thug dropped his counting stack. His eyes widened in sheer confusion as his jaw locked, his facial muscles contorting into a wide, unnatural, and rigid grin.
"Hah... Ha... Hahaha!"
A violent burst of laughter erupted from his chest, but his throat was paralyzed, turning the laugh into a strained, gasping wheeze.
Beside him, the other three men fell to their knees, clutching their stomachs as uncontrollable laughter racked their bodies. They couldn't move their arms; their balance collapsed entirely as their motor coordination failed.
Hahahaha... Heh... Ha...
The alley sounded like an insane asylum, yet none of the men were happy—their eyes were wide with pure terror as their bodies laughed against their will.
Jack leaned against the iron fire escape railing, watching the four paralyzed thugs squirm on the wet pavement below.
He didn't make a sound. He simply timed the reaction on his internal clock.
Precisely eight minutes later, the gas dissipated, leaving the four men lying flat on their backs, hyperventilating, completely exhausted, and thoroughly traumatized.
Jack stepped back up the fire escape ladder, vanishing into the fog of the rooftops without leaving a single trace behind.
A brilliant purple system prompt flared across his vision in the dark.
[ System Mission Completed! ]
Objective: Conduct a live field test of the Laughing Gas Mark I — SUCCESS.
[ Rewards Issued: ]
Synchronization: +0.3% (Current Total: 3.0%)
System Cash Deposited: $500.00
Jack reached his basement cellar twenty minutes later.
He locked the heavy wooden door behind him, taking off his wet coat.
[ Current Status ]
Host Synchronization: 3.0%
Total Available Cash: $2,404.00 ($1,904 + $500 reward)
Hidden Assets: $4.5M in Bearer Bonds & Raw Diamonds
Active Inventory: 2x Laughing Gas Mark I Canisters
Unlocked Traits: Poker Face (Tier 1), Basic Instincts of Chaos, Street Brawling, Chemical Intuition (Basic)
Synchronization had finally reached 3.0%.
Jack sat down at his oak workbench, feeling the subtle shift in his body—his mind was faster, his reaction time sharper, and his strategic vision far more lethal.
He laid his yellow notebook open on the table, pen in hand.
He had tested his gas. He had built his shelter. He had over two thousand dollars in cash and millions in hidden assets.
It was time to stop playing with street-level thugs and turn his attention toward the true king of New York's underworld.
"Three percent," Jack whispered into the quiet room.
His smile cut sharp through the dim light of his workbench.
"Now... let's see how Wilson Fisk likes a good joke."
Comments (0)