Hunter had always been pretty good at, well, everything. There were kids that were better than him at some subjects, but each of them had
something they were terrible at. No matter what lesson it was, Hunter had always taken to it like a fish takes to water. And even though
everyone remarked on how ridiculous it was, he didn't think it was all that bizarre. Just one of those things.
They also pointed out how easily he stayed in shape. He would point out he went swimming three times a week. They would compare him to
his fellow swim team members. It was true, he was easily the most defined out of all of them. Just one of those things.
If any bad word could be said against Hunter, it was that he was quiet. Ignoring the fact he often sneaked up on people without meaning to, he
was a man of few words and spent a lot of time with his own thoughts. He had close friends but hadn't really opened up to any of them.
He knew he was adopted. Considering his mother was black, his father was asian and he was distinctly caucasian american looking, there had
been no need for a conversation about it. His home life suited him very much, even if his energetic younger brother Benjamin drove him up the
wall sometimes. Still, he had to wonder where he'd got his genes from.
Ethan was still on his mind when he got home. His father was still at work, as usual, and his mother had taken his brother to judo. He wished at
least somebody was home. Not that he wanted to discuss his problem -he'd never tell a soul-, but he'd have liked something to occupy his
mind.
Fortunately, he found a distraction on the doorstep in the form a parcel. It was addressed to him. Odd, as he hadn't ordered anything.
It was the size and shape of a computer. The address had been typed onto a label and there were no stamps, suggesting somebody had just
left it there. There were no features that could trace it back to its origin. Hunter decided not to let that bother him.
He took it up to his room, set it on his bed and unwrapped it. It contained a large, metal briefcase. The sort that people in movies kept large
amounts of money in. He clicked open the latches and lifted the lid.
Inside was what appeared to be some sort of chemistry set. Set into foam in the base was a spring-loaded syringe and a device that looked like
a miniaturized coffee maker. The rest of the space was taken up by row upon row of tiny, liquid-filled vials. They were organised into groups of
three, each set labelled with its own unique code of letters and numbers. Without knowing the codes, there was no way of telling what was
inside. Nestled on top was a folded leaf of paper. Typed on the front was Hunter's full name.
Hunter unfurled the paper and discovered a series of diagrams indicating how to use the equipment. It showed how to load a vial into the
syringe and depicted a featureless figure injecting himself in the arm. Beneath that was diagram of the other machine, which showed nothing
more than where to put in the various ingredients, whatever they were.
Clearly, this was some sort of portable drug farm and Hunter was instantly wary of being near it. It was incredibly sinister that a stranger had
anonymously sent this to him and hadn't enclosed any information other than how to use it. The only reason Hunter could think of why anyone
would ask him to inject an unknown substance into his body without telling him why was to take advantage of him. Perhaps to sedate him so
they could rob him or perhaps just as a sick joke.
But that made little sense. If somebody wanted to do that, there were far easier and more reliable ways. And why send him a whole briefcase of
the stuff? There was enough substance in there for Hunter to keep using for weeks. Whoever had sent this not only expected him to use it, but
to keep using it. Possibly he was trying to get Hunter hooked on something, but what was the point if he hadn't been paid?
It was with great reluctance that Hunter decided that the only way to find out anything was to do as the instructions showed and wait for what
happened. And so, feeling very smart and very stupid at the same time, Hunter picked up the syringe, selected a random vial, followed the
instructions and fired it into his arm.