The world went white.
Marcus felt a strange dizziness wash over him—like falling through space—and then his vision cleared.
He was standing in a hallway.
A different hallway.
Not the dark, filthy cave in Afghanistan. This was an apartment building. Clean walls. Fluorescent lighting. The faint smell of old carpet and takeout food.
And right in front of him was a door marked 7B.
The door was open.
Marcus's heart pounded as he stared at it. This was it. Finn's apartment. The exact moment he'd chosen.
He'd picked this specific point in time after analyzing the entire movie frame by frame in his head.
In the original Limitless plot, Eddie Moran came to Finn's apartment looking for more NZT. But Finn had sent Eddie on errands—go to the laundromat, pick up a suit, grab some breakfast. The whole thing took about half an hour.
And somewhere during that half hour, someone had murdered Finn.
By the time Eddie got back, Finn was already dead.
Marcus had watched the scenes carefully. Eddie had taken the elevator back up. Hadn't seen anyone suspicious in the hallway or on the stairs. Which meant the killers had already left by the time Eddie returned.
So Marcus had chosen to arrive three minutes before Eddie got back.
Three minutes. That was his window.
Long enough to get in, find the NZT, and get out. Short enough that the killers would already be gone.
It was a calculated risk. But it was the safest calculated risk Marcus could manage.
He couldn't arrive while Finn was still alive. Finn wouldn't just hand over his stash of drugs to some random stranger. That was a non-starter.
And he couldn't arrive too late. If Eddie got to the NZT first, the whole plan fell apart.
No. This moment—right now, three minutes before Eddie's return—was perfect.
Marcus took a breath and stepped toward the door.
He paused at the threshold and listened.
Silence.
No footsteps. No voices. No movement inside.
The killers were gone. He was sure of it.
Marcus glanced left and right down the hallway. Empty. No one around.
Good.
He slipped inside.
The apartment was a disaster.
Furniture overturned. Drawers pulled open and dumped on the floor. Books scattered everywhere. Someone had torn through this place looking for something.
Looking for NZT.
Marcus's eyes swept across the chaos, taking it all in. And then he saw the body.
Finn was slumped on the couch in the living room, still wearing his bathrobe. His head was tilted back at an unnatural angle. There was a bullet hole in his forehead—clean, precise, execution-style. Blood had run down his face and soaked into the fabric of the robe.
Marcus stared at the corpse for a moment.
He'd never seen a dead body before. Not like this. Not up close.
His stomach churned, but he forced himself to stay calm.
Don't think about it. Just move. You don't have time.
He turned away from Finn and headed straight for the kitchen.
Marcus knew exactly where the NZT was hidden.
In the movie, Eddie had found it in the oven. Specifically, in the lower compartment at the bottom.
Marcus crouched down, yanked open the oven door, and reached inside.
There.
A small package, taped to the bottom panel.
Marcus ripped it free and tore it open.
Inside was a worn notebook, a stack of cash—hundred-dollar bills, maybe a few thousand—and a clear plastic bag filled with pills.
The NZT.
Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred. Small, translucent capsules filled with pale liquid.
Marcus's hands trembled as he picked up the bag.
This is it. This is the key to everything.
He didn't hesitate.
He pulled out one of the pills, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed it dry.
The pill slid down his throat. Bitter. Chemical. But down.
Marcus closed his eyes and started counting.
One. Two. Three.
According to the movie, NZT took about thirty seconds to kick in.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
He needed to wait for it to take effect before he left. Once his brain was running at full capacity, he'd be able to figure out the fastest, safest way out of here.
Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
His heart was pounding. Adrenaline surged through his veins.
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
And then—
It hit him like a lightning bolt.
Marcus gasped.
The world exploded into clarity.
Everything—everything—became sharper. Brighter. More real.
It was like he'd been looking at the world through a dirty window his entire life, and someone had just wiped it clean.
No.
It was like he'd been watching the world in grainy, low-resolution video, and someone had just upgraded him to 4K.
The kitchen snapped into perfect focus.
Every detail. Every object. The layout, the placement of the utensils, the angle of the light coming through the window—all of it burned into his mind with perfect, photographic precision.
He could see things he'd never noticed before.
The grain of the wood on the cabinets. The tiny scratches on the countertop. The way dust particles floated in the air, catching the light.
And it wasn't just sight.
His other senses roared to life.
Smell.
Marcus could suddenly distinguish every scent in the apartment. The sharp tang of soy sauce and salt from the kitchen. The metallic stench of blood drifting in from the living room. The stale smell of cigarette smoke clinging to Finn's bathrobe. The faint, sour smell of sweat.
All of it distinct. All of it categorized instantly in his mind.
Hearing.
The world had gone from muffled silence to a symphony of sound.
Marcus could hear the wind outside the window, rustling against the glass. The distant hum of traffic on the street below. Car horns. Voices. Footsteps echoing from other floors of the building.
He could hear the creak of pipes in the walls. The buzz of the refrigerator. The faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment.
Every sound, crystal clear.
And his mind—
Oh god, his mind.
Thoughts that used to take seconds to form now appeared instantly. Connections snapped together like puzzle pieces. Information he'd half-forgotten surged back into perfect clarity.
He could think faster. Process faster. Understand faster.
It was like someone had taken the fog out of his brain and replaced it with lightning.
Marcus stood there in Finn's kitchen, his hands still trembling, his breath coming fast.
He could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Powerful.
He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his system, sharpening his focus even more.
And beyond all of that—beyond the sights and sounds and smells—he could feel something else.
Confidence.
Pure, unshakeable confidence.
For the first time since he'd woken up in this nightmare, Marcus felt like he was in control.
Like he could handle anything.
Like he was unstoppable.
He turned his head slightly, listening.
The faint sound of footsteps. Coming up the stairs. Still a floor or two below.
Eddie.
Marcus closed his eyes and processed the information in an instant.
Eddie was slow. He'd taken the elevator up in the movie, but right now he was probably juggling bags from the laundromat and carrying breakfast. He'd take another minute, maybe two, to reach this floor.
Plenty of time.
Marcus opened his eyes and glanced around the kitchen, his enhanced mind already mapping out his next moves.
He could hear the wind outside. The distant noise from the street. The hum of the city.
Even the smallest sounds from far away reached his ears, clear as day.
Throw some Powerstones if you like the Fic.