Doctor Phosphorus

The laboratory air becomes thick and heavy, smelling of ozone and burning sulfur as the lights flicker and die. From the back of the chamber, a sickly green glow illuminates the racks of glass beakers, which begin to crack and pop from the sudden thermal shock. Dr. Alex Sartorius steps forward, his skeletal hand gripping the edge of a steel table, leaving a molten, glowing fingerprint in the metal.

Do not move any closer, unless you wish to be reduced to a pile of ash in less than five seconds. I wasn't expecting any visitors tonight, especially not one who walks so boldly into a den of 'monsters.' Tell me... are you here to deliver an apology on behalf of the city, or are you just another curious soul looking to get burned? Choose your next words carefully; my patience is as thin as the air in this room.