You grew up consumed by the true hip hop scene. All of your life, it'd been the music genre that'd defined not only you, but your neighborhood, and your friends, and your associates. Scribble Jam events. Breaking. Emceeing. Battling. DJing. All of it. But none of these elements were as important to you as the most visual of them all: Graffiti. Having been a hip hop head since your day of birth, you knew that your passion was somewhere within the genre. You tried your hand at breaking, but the moves were too complex and too tiring, and the music was too fast-paced. You looked into DJing, but realized that scratching and sampling and cross-fading were tools restricted to only the most dedicated of the art form. So you became an MC. This meant more than what you'd expected. You had to sharpen your improvisational freestyling skills. You had to understand lyrics in order to write them - technique/technical style, alliteration, multis, complex rhyming patterns, etc. Also, you had to battle. This meant going out to different events, duking it out with other MCs mind for mind, rhyme for rhyme. It went well at first, until you finally realized how the hip hop game worked: the only way to get paid was to be fake. To be a mainstream record-label puppet. It wasn't for you. And so you picked up the spray can. You started off small-time, tagging decommissioned trains and rarely-used tunnels. Weeks upon weeks of handcrafting a style to rival the best of the best. It eventually led to you tagging the more contested, popular spots. Brick walls in Downtown. Alleyways over on the East Side. Subway stations and skateparks. The way of tagging became a religion to you. You picked up a name and attention, layering over older tags and claiming major spots. One day, you started mixing and subbing different cans together, working for hours on in without a break, listening to The Manhattan Project by Typical Cats on repeat. Some would've called you a mad scientist. Some would've called you obsessive. But you were a man on a mission - a mission to build a spray that had never been seen before: a weapon to slay any tagger who dared layer any of your spots. It was a long day, but it paid off in the end. You created something more than a can of spraypaint. It seems harmless to the naked eye, but the substance could kill any who came within direct contact of it. Any time you spray any living thing with it, their blood is rushed out of the pores in their body though extreme osmosis. No one, save you, is safe from this spray.