Michael lived in a world where he wanted for nothing.

His outgoing and friendly disposition allowed him to gain the favor of people almost instantly. His cunning nature and intelligence paved the way to let him manipulate a situation however he wanted. Nothing he wanted was ever out of his reach.

That is, when it came to material things.

But Michael had somehow convinced himself he didn't care for love, family, or anything he couldn't manipulate someone to give him. He scoffed watching his friends care so deeply for their children. Seeing couples act happy nearly made his stomach churn.

The wizard wanted for nothing. The world was within his reach.

Michael stood on the balcony outside his bedroom. The city lights sparkled against the pitch black night sky. His feet were firmly planted on the ground. His nearly frozen hands were tucked into his pockets.

The temperature was much too low to be standing outside without a coat. And yet, Michael continued standing there on his balcony. And though he had told himself that it was just to clear his mind and let himself think, it was obvious even to him that he was trying to prove his strength against anything. Even the bitter, dangerous cold.

As he gazed out over the city like a comic supervillain, Michael began to fantasize about the city being under the control of his Forever Potion. That dream of the city grew into a dream of the state, then the country. He began to idealize the world being under his control, but that was quickly shut down. He didn't want to let himself get enthusiastic.

The grey haired man shook his head. He would be allowed to get enthusiastic if Derek didn't stand in his way.

That damned Ultima, Michael frequently thought. His disdain for Derek grew by the day. The only obstacle in his way was the cursed businessman.

Elizabeth was on Michael's side no matter what. That was solidified when she enthusiastically gave up her daughter to experimentation.

Zack, though argumentative, would do anything Michael told him to. And, even if he resisted, Michael could use any form of magic he wanted to force the doctor to make decisions, regardless of how unethical.

If it had just been Garte alone, Michael would have already convinced him to subject maybe all three of his boys to experimentation. Of course, however, Derek had to stand in his way.

The worst part was that no form of magic could be used on Derek to control his mind.

That terminal diagnosis for Garroth couldn't have come at a better time for Michael. It was so incredibly easy to swing the view of a nearly bereaved parent. He knew that Derek had to give in to Garte eventually.

The cold became too much for the still human Michael. He turned around, pivoting on his heel and walked back inside. The heat immediately surrounded him and brought the blood flow back to his hands.

The room was illuminated with technology. Blue light shone against Michael's face while the text that shone documented experiments of the past few months. The brightest and largest screen read the best results.

Successful, it read. Operation Epsilon to ensue.

Every time he read those words, Michael was elated with pride. Not for the doctors helping him, but for himself.

The quiet, brightly lit room was disturbed by pop ups on every screen. The window that appeared alerted Michael that there was a presence at the door.

Sighing and not in the mood to talk to anyone, Michael made his way down the stairs. He adjusted his appearance and smoothed out his shirt, wrinkled by the intense wind. He opened the door, and was immediately struck by the cold wind again.

"We need to talk," Michael heard, before he was able to register who was even at the door.

Derek stood in the doorway with no more than a long, wool coat keeping him warm. His dark eyes seemed incredibly darker, either by the anger he radiated or by the scarcely lit night.

Michael had to hide rolling his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, and of course Derek is the one to show up at his door.

"Come right on in, then," Michael said as he stepped aside. "Make yourself comfortable."

Derek stepped inside Michael's large and technology ridden house. The only thing that was welcoming about the establishment at all was the relieving heat. The Ultima werewolf didn't bother to take his coat off as he walked towards the couch and took a seat in the middle of it.

Michael strode to the middle of the room, pausing to stare at Derek for a moment before sitting down himself. Shadows were cast all over the room. The dim lamps only shone so far.

"What can I do for you, Derek?" Michael said, placing one leg over the other and folding his hands at his chest.

"What did you say to Garte the other day?" Derek said, hardly letting Michael even finish his sentence.

Michael smirked, "I figured you'd ask that."

Anger rose in Derek as Michael left his words awkwardly lingering. The man sitting across from Derek was already treading on light ice for him. He certainly wasn't helping his case by not answering his question right away.

"I just wanted him to consider all of his options," Michael finally spoke up quietly. He picked up a pen and began to twirl it between his fingers.

"The day after they found out their son is dying?" Derek hissed out, clearly appalled. "You gave him false hope."

"What about it is false?" Michael questioned. "I don't see you running experiments with us."

Derek, feeling every cell in his body infuriate, was unable to answer Michael's question. That sorcerer had a point; Derek didn't know for sure. This only angered the young businessman more.

Michael nearly laughed seeing Derek so angry. It wasn't even hard to make his face red with fury.

"I thought you agreed to help us sell when the time comes," Michael commented, still twirling his pen in his fingers.

"I did, and I will," Derek was calming down. "But leave Garroth out of this."

"If we can save him, why wouldn't we?" Michael inquired. The question wasn't even one of manipulation; he was genuinely interested in Derek's response.

"You don't know if it can save him. You've experimented merely on mice," Derek pointed out.

This question made Michael pause. The pen twirling stopped. He was calculating a response, one that he could form Derek's words in such a way that would make him look worse.

Michael squinted his grey eyes. He looked at Derek and furrowed his eyebrows. He gripped the pen in his hand, hoping with everything in him that his mind was faster than Derek's quick wit.

"There's still a chance," Michael said slowly. "You don't want the boy to have but a chance? Come on, Derek. You know as well as I do that those who diagnosed him made no effort to even try and save him."

Derek felt like the memories over the past five years hit him in the face. He remembered how happy his best friend and wife were when they found out they were expecting. His mind flooded with memories of that bright little boy that was the spitting image of his father. There was no question as to how loved that child was.

Then, Derek remembered the look on Garte's face when he was in his office and told him Garroth's diagnosis was terminal. He could never forget the entirely lost look that was planted in Garte's eyes. He saw the tears that flooded Zianna's eyes every time he looked at her. The couple's disconnect was evident.

Derek shook his head. He knew that false hope, especially one that could kill their son even sooner, would be disastrous. He was certain it would kill one, if not both of them.

"Leave them be for right now," Derek finally spoke up, which slightly startled Michael. "Garte will be fine to start sales eventually."

Both men sitting in the dimly lit living room knew that this wasn't certain. No one could predict what was going to happen after Garroth was freed of his pain.

"So, pursue the experiments on the other children," Michael began.

Derek hesitated. He didn't like the idea of experimenting on children, but just getting Garroth out of it was enough. He nodded at Michael.

"But leave Garroth out of it?" Michael questioned, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow. Derek nodded once again.

"And this is your opinion," Michael said.

"I don't believe it is in anyone's best interest to include him in it, given his condition," Derek affirmed, though he lied. He didn't think it was a good idea to include any of the children in it at all.

Michael smirked to himself, unnoticeable by Derek from the darkness that flooded the room. He had gotten Derek's word that it was okay to include the other children, but not Garroth.

Michael didn't need to start calculating. He already knew how he was going to manipulate Derek's words to Garte.

The wizard stood up, followed by the cursed. Michael stuck out his hand and Derek took it in a firm grip. They shook hands while Michael put on a seemingly genuine smile.

"Thank you, Derek. We'll definitely take that into consideration."