Name: Albert Bufo Hamilton

Chemical biology is the scientific overlap of chemistry and biology. Albert Bufo Hamilton was the manifestation of this concept. His biology caused him to sweat a unique substance that was very profitable on the chemical markets. Growing up, Albert soon learned the monetary value that he naturally produced. Friends and family of his species soon became wealthy from the underground trade in their perspiration. Albert saw how their wealth and greed changed them and had heard scary things about addiction from some even scarier teachers in school, so he decided not to engage in the trade.

He decided to pursue a degree in science, hoping one day to make medicinal chemicals that helped society, unlike the drugs that he naturally made. His opinion changed completely one day when a dear friend came to him in despair, and he hugged him tightly as he cried. Unintentionally, that chemical Albert had always been guilty of was brushed from his skin to his friend’s. The chemical did what it does, reacting with his friend’s brain causing it to work in ways it rarely did. His friend began crying harder before suddenly breaking the hug with Albert. They lay side by side in silence for the next hour. Later his friend would tell him of an experience of equal parts mystifying and terrifying. It was hard for Albert to understand how his friend had experienced strange things like nothing being everything and everything being nothing or time folding on itself. But he understood that his friend had a new perspective on life and realized that the chemicals that came from him had contributed to it.

Years later, Albert had given countless doses to those in need, dropping out of school realizing that he didn’t need a laboratory to produce the medicine that could heal society. He found himself a member of the third resistance, as that was the place where those who had been most hurt by society seemed to end up, and he would provide healing for them. Now they and he were in prison, and it looked like the healing they would soon need would not be mental or spiritual. A fresh group of inmates had been transferred to their cell, and these were not fellow politicals like them. The life of a revolutionary leaves its scars and makes one so hard you can recognize it with a glance. His new cellmates made them soft in comparison.

Ángela Sevilla had needed quite a lot of Alberts treatment. Her wounds were deep, with the physical so obvious with that big scar where her left ear should have been. A wombat who was now looking through him made Ángela appear a fair maiden. What should have been fur was elaborate embroidery of scars on top of scars. It seemed the only place that wasn’t scarred was a ghastly wound still open on his calf, which the wombat licked with a smile when he noticed it being noticed.

A guard outside the door said in a voice that was strangely loud enough for everyone inside to hear clearly, “I sure hope they are civil tonight, we’re understaffed out here, and if a fight breaks out, we’ll have to wait till morning reinforcements arrive to break it up.”

Their new prison mates chuckled to each other and gathered up around a tiny mouse handing things to each of them. Albert knew this was all wrong. The revolution may end tonight, not at the direct hand of the collective, but by a prison shank from a thug. Without asking for support from the revolutionaries with him, who knew would put up a brave fight, he ran directly towards the mob.

The last thing they expected was a solo attack from the least intimating of the bunch, and he was able to run directly into the middle of their huddle. They reacted to this surprise with immature cruelty, closing their circle back around him. One by one, they took their time slowly taking turns on him, slapping, biting, scratching, making sure not to keep him and their game alive.

The revolutionaries were quickly mobilized and rushed to defend their dear Albert. The thugs became aware that the whole fight was about to begin and then became aware of how the colors around them smelt, the taste of their smiles in their mouths, and many other things that soon made them forget the fight around them.