Henry 'Ruthless' Smith was injected with a serum called EoR, short for 'Executioner of Reality'. It was a joke experiment he whipped up to prepare himself for the actual chemistry finals. It contained a lot of amino acids chained together to form new protein compounds. In his randomly written notes, he theorized that he would create techniques that broke reality. Unfortunately, this dud ended up contaminating other vials he was working on, rendering them all useless. 

UIoI or 'Undying Inversion of Immortality'. This was an undergraduate project that he was told resembled work one would expect from a Master's student. Time dulls everything. This solution was meant to counter that, inverse the process so that one's senses became sharper with time. 

UbaU or 'Unending, but also Unaging'. This was an undergraduate project resembling work required to write a Master's Thesis. Everything eventually comes to an end. Everything has a limit. This solution was meant to compound the diminishing results.

There were numerous other vials that he didn't have the time to think about. Henry was thrown through a window. In an instinctive response to hold onto something, he ended up grabbing multiple syringes. The impact against the window shattered all of them, even as a loose plunger on one pushed the mess of liquids into his chest. 

As they combined, he had already fallen from the 10th floor down to the 8th floor. He had originally borrowed ten grand. It had ballooned to a hundred grand and he had no way of paying it off. He knew that, of course. He was counting on a gamble he know would most likely fail, but he had no other choice. 

He would do two years of college and that was it. Thanks to the loan, he was now in his fourth year of college. Unfortunately, he had to deal with this now. He wasn't sure what was better. Post 2nd year college work or death before he graduated?

He had fallen another two floors down to the 6th floor as his thoughts finished. 

AFR or 'Are Fairytales Real?'. This was an ambitious Master's level project that a professor worked with him on in secret. It was far beyond his capabilities but the professor guided him all the way. He had presented an interesting question, one that intrigued the professor enough to spend a grand on.

Fairytales was completely different from his other theories. What if thoughts could turn into reality? But how did you make that from chemicals? From atoms? From elements? The thought was resurfacing when a familiar black liquid tainted it. It was toxic and bubbling, almost like sludge. It was the first to enter his veins. It finished a quarter circulation by the time he was at the 2nd floor. 

The concrete twenty feet in front of him was opening death's door for him. It was over, he thought. Life was going to end here. The last thought on his mind was Megan. She was the most attractive girl he had ever seen. A five foot four long flowing pink blonde beauty wearing black shorts and a pink tank top. He was five foot six, two inches taller then her. She looked up at him, smiling. She told him that she enjoyed looking up at her man, that it was the most natural pose to her. She licked his lips, bit his tongue, and put her fingers in his mouth to suck on. He did, for the longest time. He also wanted to swallow it. She heard his thoughts, he felt, because she giggled in response. 

He pushed her backwards with a huge desire to eat her up in bed. She landed on the mattress and he on her. She didn't resist as he prepared to make love to her. Then he got to work. She moaned as her breathing quickened. She grabbed his arms as she fought to stay conscious. 

This thought sobered Smith up as he threw a straight right at the man charging at him. It landed square on his temple and the brute flew back. Ten feet, twenty, thirty, straight into the wall of his apartment unit.

The other men in the back suddenly stopped, indifferent to the situation. Then the realization hit them. Shock formed on their faces. Fear. Fear is the strongest emotion one has to protect themselves against danger. Their supervisor, the one in charge, could hit a man and have him stumble backwards. The target would end up with loose teeth, a broken nose that might bleed, and double vision. But their supervisor was strong, much stronger then the average person. Being his subordinates, they could also make their targets stumble, but they couldn't inflict as much damage.

The average person who never lifted weights or threw a punch their whole life would cause the head to jerk, but nothing else. 

Just now, their target, a little boy still in college, threw a punch that sent one of them flying. Went by the name of Gordon. The same rank as them but stronger and more fight aware then them. Spent years in fist brawls, then joined the army and was discharged a few months after. Gordon could sense a punch coming from a mile away and react accordingly. Never lost a fight that he was serious about. Same person was embedded into the wall of the apartment unit, barely breathing.

No one moved and the supervisor didn't say anything either. Just looked at Gordon for a long time just like everyone else before slowly backing away. Turned even slower to face him. Took out a knife and did nothing with it for the longest time. Just had it out there and stared at it. Thinking. Planning. Wondering. The supervisor looked at Gordon again and shivered.

Gordon was their best man and was entrusted with being the charger. The person who took the lead in subduing the target. The rest of his men were meant to be the numbers that padded everything out. If Gordon was somehow having trouble, which never happened, then everyone else would pile up on top and seal the deal. Their division leader didn't want to take any chances even if they were really confident. 

Now their biggest threat was gone, subdued almost instantly. Suddenly, the supervisors eyes widened as though realizing something. 

Smith knew what they had just realized. He was just sent flying out the window. Why was he standing here now almost like that didn't happen?