The Crimson Serum
(Act I: The Spark) The fog of 1888 London did not merely drift; it clung to the skin like a damp shroud, smelling of coal smoke and desperation. I sat in my basement laboratory in Spitalfields, the flickering gaslight casting long, skeletal shadows across the mahogany table. Before me lay the vial: a viscous, shimmering crimson liquid. The Eternal Serum. I had spent seven years distilling the...
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