Only misfits operated from the shadows, and boy, was he a misfit.
Having started his crazy experiments back in his youth, he had the pale complexion and the crazed expression of a man who spends an awful lot of time in a basement mixing strange potions.
Sometimes, even exploding potions, which resulted in the loss of the lower portion of his left leg.
He had learned to move nimbly on his prosthetic leg, however, and now moved almost as swiftly between his work benches as he did before.
He had to, as he was so close to a new breakthrough, that he could almost taste it.
Author's Note: I kind of realized too late that I wrote a magical version of Overwatch's Junkrat. Oh well.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories
Short StoryA collection of 100 word stories, based on two prompt list challenges. The first 100 stories will be based on general themes, the last 100 will be based on a list of 100 emotions. *COMPLETED*
