Substance 4 Doesn't Exist

Substance 4 was a myth. Or at least that's what the Imperial military claimed. It was one of those spook stories told among magical and anti magical alike. A mythical blue fluid that could lock away or free someones inherent magical ability. Why it was called substance 4, was up for debate. Some say there were three previous trials, or the 4 meant the compounds within. The legends here and there though put the substance firmly in the made up realm. Most people when you talk about it, laugh off the idea of the substance and ask if you're with the Imperial Military attempting to shake them down. That part was all part of the counter intelligence behind the real substance 4.

The imperial military in conjunction with a bunch of now long dead magical users had created the substance as a final solution to the dangerously magical. Something that could be injected that would suppress abilities until another solution was applied. How the substance came about is still shrouded in mystery to anyone in the Imperial military. That it just works was all that was important. It was hard to find, and harder to keep, since the idea of it falling in the wrong hands lead to self destruct devices and impossible personal codes.

Brubaker had only come by his substance 4 by dishonest means. The end result of his sight, knowing exactly where to find it before someone else knew where it was. His final vision finally letting him off the visions. He had hid the substance as a special shaving cream for years, no one in the imperial military ever clued in that he had one of their best kept secrets just hiding out in his toiletries. No one even knew Brubaker had magical ability, so complete was the substance 4 masking.

But now he'd been pushed into a corner, he knew something bad was going to happen, it wasn't sight, but it was a gut feeling, and he knew if he didn't see people would get hurt more than normal. And so he filled the vial with substance 4 and injected in his arm. He was in a shitty run down hotel in the poorer part of town, the kind of place that didn't ask questions or take names. He only had a bed and a barely functioning toilet. He felt like a drug user, and in a way he was. Except his drug of choice was the future, and like an addict he had just gotten back on the sauce.