The Mystery Potion sat on the workbench, quietly offensive.
A squat laboratory flask. Neon green liquid. A painted question mark slapped across the glass like a dare from a universe that absolutely enjoyed pranks.
Zeke picked it up and squinted. "So… it's either awesome or catastrophic."
Juile leaned closer. "Or both. Those are usually the best ones."
They'd already catalogued the others—Monster Potion: big, purple, smashy. Ghost Potion: blue fire, phase through walls, Zeke still wouldn't shut up about it. Speed Shoes, First Aid Kits, the sensible stuff. This one, though? This one radiated bad ideas.
The First Toy's voice echoed faintly from nowhere and everywhere, warm and deeply unhelpful.
"Ahhh, the Mystery Potion. A classic. Six possible outcomes. Some delightful. Some… regrettable."
Zeke froze. "Six?"
Juile was already uncorking it. "Statistics say we'll be fine."
"Statistics also say you shouldn't drink unlabeled chemicals!"
Too late.
Juile took a sip from the beaker.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then—WHAM.
Her body lurched forward, bones popping like bubble wrap, skin flushing an unmistakable radioactive purple.
Juile roared.
Zeke stared up at her hulking, monsterified form. "…okay, fine, that one rules."
Purple Juile smashed her fists together, grinning so hard her tusks showed. She charged the nearest wall and deleted it. Bricks, pipes, and debris sprayed everywhere like the level itself had offended her.
The First Toy hummed approvingly. "Monster form. Effect one."
Juile reverted back to normal with a pop of displaced air, brushing dust from her jacket. "See? Totally safe."
Zeke folded his arms. "My turn. For science."
He took a sip.
Instantly, blue fire erupted around him. His feet lifted off the floor.
"Oh. Oh wow. This again." Zeke floated through a wall, reappearing halfway embedded in a locker. "I still love this."
"Effect two," said the First Toy. "Ghost."
Zeke phased back out, landing lightly. "Alright, Mystery Potion's batting a thousand."
Juile raised an eyebrow. "You realize we're due for the bad ones now."
Zeke waved her off and took a second drink.
Nothing exploded. Instead, the world slowed. Zeke blinked—and suddenly he was moving like a pinball on caffeine, ricocheting across the lab at twice his normal speed.
"WHY AM I SO FAST—" he shouted, zooming past Juile, slamming into a table, bouncing off, and accidentally saving three nearby Victims by sheer momentum.
Juile laughed so hard she nearly dropped her shotgun. "Effect three! Speed Shoes without the shoes!"
Zeke skidded to a stop, panting. "I hate it. I love it. I hate that I love it."
They exchanged a look.
One potion left on the table.
The question mark seemed smug now.
Zeke slowly slid it toward Juile. "I took two drinks in a row."
Juile stared at it. "…fair."
Shee lifted it. Hesitated. Then shrugged and drank.
Pain.
Not dramatic pain—mean pain. His health bar visibly dipped, alarms blaring as her body staggered.
Juile gasped. "Okay—okay—bad one—bad one—"
Before Juile could panic, the pain stopped. The bar froze just above critical.
"…Huh," Juile muttered. "It Didn't kill me."
"Effect five," said the First Toy. "Health loss. It won't finish you off. The universe is cruel, not inefficient."
Juile crossed her arms. "That's five. What's the sixth?"
The lights flickered as Zeke took a third sip from the flask.
Zeke's skin drained of color, shifting into a sickly, jaundiced green. His clothes darkened. His posture slackened.
Then skull-and-crossbones icons popped into his weapon display.
Zeke looked down at himself. "…Juile?"
He took a step.
Another.
Then he lunged—not at a monster, but toward a nearby Victim.
Juile shouted. "ZEKE—!"
He moved wrong. Too fast. Too eager.
Juile tackled him sideways just as Hyde-Zeke snarled and thrashed, slipping free and sprinting off in a random direction, cackling as he went.
The First Toy sighed. "Ah. Mr. Hyde. Effect six."
Juile scrambled to her feet, chasing him. "You didn't mention he tries to murder everyone!"
"I assumed it was self-evident."
Hyde-Zeke zigzagged across the room, ignoring monsters, then suddenly veering toward another Victim with terrifying focus.
Juile dove, firing wildly—not to kill him, just to herd him away.
"STOP! BAD Zeke! BAD!"
Hyde-Zeke skidded, turned, then deliberately ran toward her instead, shoulder-checking her into a crate.
He laughed. Zeke's laugh, but wrong. Sharper. Hungry.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the sickly colors drained away.
Zeke collapsed to his knees, normal again, breathing hard.
"…I would like to formally apologize to everyone I almost murdered."
Juile helped him up, eyes wide. "No more Mystery Potions near Victims. Ever."
The First Toy chuckled. "A wise rule."
A honking noise interrupted them.
They turned.
Three inflatable clowns stood behind them, freshly deployed. Red noses. Vacant smiles. Cheap, rubbery perfection.
A horde of monsters immediately peeled away from the kids and swarmed the clowns instead, hacking and biting in furious confusion.
Juile blinked. "They're… attacking the toys."
Zeke grinned. "Decoy Clowns."
One popped. Another sagged, deflating with a sad wheeze.
The monsters stayed distracted, swinging at nothing important.
Juile slowly smiled. "Okay. These I like."
Zeke watched the last clown burst. "So. Mystery Potions: chaos. Hyde: never near civilians. Clown grenades: monster catnip."
The First Toy's voice softened, pleased. "Congratulations. You've learned why knowledge is sometimes more dangerous than monsters."
The lab door unlocked with a click.
Somewhere ahead, the next side quest waited—undoubtedly worse, louder, and less inflatable.
And Zeke quietly slid the remaining Mystery Potions very far away from the Victims.