When I worked for the government, they hired me to harness the power of this liquid into a weapon of some sort—a gun probably. So they gave me a million dollars and a lab—oh and a one-year radiation protection injection (RPI)—and told me to have a weapon finished by the end of the year. So I tried. I constructed this dart that had a highly compressed CO2 tank in the back and a sharp needle point and the other end. In the needle was a tiny, tiny bit of Sporad—about .08 milliliters of the stuff—and that much could kill you. I finished in four months, and finally came the time to test it; I called the pet store and ordered a few rabbits. They arrived within days and I climbed into my suit. I walked a few steps back and I fired. I dropped the gun and run up to the rabbit. It sat there, wide-eyed and wiggling, the dart had disintegrated like it was supposed to; but nothing happened to rabbit. I looked closer, parting its fur with my gloved hands. Where the dart was, a large black welt resided.