Spun Out of Control

Chapter 7: The Lemon-Scented Formula

The office kitchen was a graveyard of abandoned coffee grounds and shattered dreams at 11:00 PM. Gavin stood over the industrial stovetop, his face illuminated by the flickering, sickly yellow glow of the overhead fluorescent light. He had a beaker of industrial-grade superglue in one hand and a bottle of high-acid, lemon-scented floor cleaner in the other.

"Okay, be careful, Gavin. You are literally playing with fire, no cap," he muttered, his hands trembling as he poured the yellow liquid into the glue. "If this turns into a bomb, I’m literally going to be fired into the sun."

The mixture hissed and bubbled, emitting a pungent, citrusy odor that burned his nostrils. He stirred it with a discarded plastic fork, watching as the slurry thickened into a semi-translucent, sticky, glowing blue paste.

"Yo, that is actually lit," he whispered, his eyes widening. "It’s literally the same color as the spider-bite energy. Maybe the chemistry of my body is just... influencing the world now? Am I a literal mad scientist? This is giving major supervillain origin vibes, fr."

He carefully poured the concoction into two modified fire-extinguisher nozzles he’d ripped from the breakroom cabinets, strapping them to his wrists with duct tape and spare Ethernet cable.

"Time to test the drip," Gavin breathed, wincing as he tightened the straps against his skin. "If I fall to my death, tell my mom I was, like, a secret billionaire or something. Don't let her see the credit card debt."

He slipped out of the side stairwell and pushed open the heavy steel door leading to the roof. The city was a sprawling grid of neon and shadow, the wind whipping his hair back as he walked toward the ledge. The air felt electric against his skin. He raised his right wrist, aimed at a sturdy ventilation duct, and squeezed the improvised trigger.

THWIP.

A glob of sticky, lemon-scented polymer shot out, adhering to the metal with a satisfying splat. He tugged it. It didn't budge.

"No cap, that actually works," Gavin laughed, feeling the rush of adrenaline. "I’m literally him. I’m the main character."

He took a deep breath, stepped onto the ledge, and swung out over the abyss. He dangled fifty feet above the concrete alleyway, the wind whistling past his ears. It was terrifying and exhilarating, his body humming with that familiar blue static.

"This is the peak of my life," he shouted into the night. "I am an apex predator! I am the king of this city! I am—"

The heavy roof door creaked open behind him.

"Gavin?"

The voice was like a bucket of ice water to the soul. Gavin’s stomach did a nauseating somersault. He swung his body around, his feet frantically scrambling against the side of the brick wall to hide his presence, but it was too late.

Rose Lee stepped onto the roof, the glow of the city reflecting off her perfectly groomed features. She was holding a thin silver cigarette case, but as her eyes focused on the figure dangling from a thin, glowing blue thread off the edge of the roof, the case slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground.

"Gavin?" she screamed, her voice cracking with a raw, uncharacteristic panic. She rushed to the edge, her heels clicking wildly. "Gavin, what are you doing? Oh my god, step back from there! Please!"

Gavin froze. His heart was hammering so hard he was sure she could hear it from ten feet away.

"Rose? Boss? Hey!" he chirped, his voice two octaves higher than usual. "What are you doing out here? Taking, like, a little midnight stroll? The air is super crisp tonight, no cap."

"Gavin, look at me!" Rose’s face was deathly pale. Her hands were outstretched toward him, her breathing coming in sharp, shallow gasps. "Are you out of your mind? Get back up here! Right now!"

"Oh, this? This is just... core yoga," Gavin stammered, his arms straining against the thread. "It’s a new thing. Extreme planking. It’s huge in, uh, Zurich. Highly recommended for the spine. Really helps with the, uh, sedentary office lifestyle."

"Extreme planking?" Rose took a step closer, her eyes locked on his dangling form. Tears were welling in her eyes, a sight that made Gavin’s entire world tilt. "You are hanging off the side of the building by a piece of... is that blue string? Gavin, I don't care about your back pain! Give me your hand!"

"I can’t, Boss! The, uh, the thread might snap if I move too abruptly," he lied, his brain spinning at a million miles an hour. "Physics, you know? It’s a very delicate balancing act. You wouldn't want to mess up the tension."

"I am going to fire you so hard for this, Gavin!" Rose sobbed, her composure completely shattered. She reached out, her fingers inches from his wrist. "I am going to fire you, and then I am going to make sure you never work in this industry again, but you have to come up here! Please! Just take my hand!"

Gavin looked at her—really looked at her. Her hair was messy, her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked utterly, devastatingly vulnerable. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and it was entirely his fault.

"I’m not jumping, Rose," he whispered, his voice losing its forced, comedic edge. "I’m, like, literally the last person who would do that. I have way too many unfinished games to play."

"Then get away from the edge!" she cried, lunging forward with a burst of frantic energy.

She grabbed his right wrist with both hands, her fingers digging into the synthetic leather of his sleeve. Her skin felt cool, soft, and electric—a sharp contrast to the sticky, citrus-scented mess he had smeared all over his arm.

"Gotcha!" she gasped, her knuckles white.

"Wait, Rose, the glue—"

Her fingers brushed past the nozzle, sliding directly into the tacky, lemon-scented polymer he had just cooked up in the kitchen.

"Ew, what is this?" Rose blinked, her brow furrowing even in the midst of her panic. She tried to pull her hand away, but it stuck to his wrist like it had been welded there. "Gavin, your arm... it’s, like, covered in syrup? Why is it glowing?"

Gavin stared at her hand, fused to his, then looked up into her shocked, tear-filled eyes. He was dangling off a skyscraper, his secret was partially out, and he was currently holding his boss’s hand in a death grip of industrial adhesive.

"So," Gavin muttered, a nervous, lopsided smile spreading across his face. "This is a super awkward time to mention this, but I think we’re, like, literally stuck together now. No cap."