My time in the Simic Combine went by very fast. While I felt during experiments that time went by slowly and that some of the tests with the cytoplasts would never end, at the end of each day, I hardly had the feeling of doing anything constructive other than eating meals. Each morning, I would reflect on my time in Ravnica with surprise as how fast the weeks passed. The months were measured differently here, and even though the language barrier was mostly broken with me and these inhabitants, it was still difficult to get ahold of their measurements of time. The fact is, I did not learn how to speak their language, nor did they learn how to speak mine, but magic was used to cull the problem, and thus no learning was required. To me it seems that a newly acquired skill in Ravnica is a feat in itself; so many laws enforced, skills and even household chores were performed with magic, it's readily available to everyone and is as common as remedies at the drug store, as readily available as the paper it's written on.
Cytoplasts in small amounts were attached to me at first. Great care was taken not to have this material touch other beings because the cytoplasts absorb genetic information and share it with their host. Magical enchantments and aura magic are all used to ensure the integrity of the cytoplasts. They were removed from me at the end of the experiments and each day, they would have more cytoplasts to try on me. They would be the same blobs I wore the previous day with more mass added, or cytoplasts that were previously attached to pyromancers.
They also offered an explanation to the fact my fire is green in color. I always thought it was a part of me, indeed, this was verified by their hypothesis; where I come from, our color is important to us, it's part of who we are. I was clothed in green since I was born; green is little less than who I am. They mentioned my dark power, my years of mental solitude, even in the plain sight and company of my friends. My dark secret concerning my brother, my jealousy of Mario--the dark power was unintentional, but my ignorance of it was as if I welcomed it into my heart. Mario was good, genuinely good, and he was humble and noble and kind. I was too, but it came naturally to him. He meant no harm, but in his complete naïve benevolence it was just as bad for me as if he taunted and ridiculed me for being second fiddle. I would have preferred this, even; it would have made it so much less shameful when I would resent him.
They took especial interest in my ability to generate fireballs with my hands. Though I had the innate ability to form green fireballs, they were not without their danger, hence my necessity to wear gloves. The ability came from the fire flowers from the Mushroom Kingdom, and indeed using one now will augment this firepower. The Simic scientists told me a similar effect does indeed occur on Ravnica. Criminals who use contraband magic get it in their system, and patriarchs of the Orzhov Syndicate drink a magic liquid infused with the affinity and life power of doomed prisoners to achieve longevity by the same means I managed to impress pyromancy into my hands.
"My dark power." This was their name for it, an auspicious name like a horror novel I was doomed to read. When addressed, the scientists descended on me without scruples or judgment; it was refreshing yet cold. There was no punishment for my jealousy, no scorn, just intrigue. They used little magic windows and liquids and talked of "mana" and "auras". The cytoplasts only served to focus the power I had control over. In order to unlock this dark power, they assigned me a Simic psychiatrist to discuss the nature of my brotherhood with Mario. The psychiatrist was a female vedalken, a blue-skinned humanoid, thin and tall, and spoke like my mental breakthrough was on a schedule. We talked about my childhood and our raising for a few days with no foreseeable improvements, much less indicated by her stony face. On the third day in a spurt of impulsiveness I would never have foreseen in her, she took me on a tour of the undercity. We descended into the ground, and I saw the previous incarnations of Ravnica, now dilapidated, dark, wet and reminiscent of death itself. She told me to become familiar with it, release my feelings into it and invite the darkness to enter, filter itself through me, and them empty out, taking my mental strife with it, complete mental control, no apologies, no shame. I felt at home in the undercity, I was hidden from the eyes of the helpless, the cries of damsels in distress. The vedalken and I could have disappeared into the shadows and never again be found. She then said she was done with me.
The cytoplasts with which I eventually left the Simic Combine were the final stage of their experimentation on me. They were careful with me because they are not used to test subjects with fire capabilities. I discovered that their fascination with me supersceded their "ethical" obligation to send me to the Izzet League, who specialize in unusual magics. They told me they had to apply cytoplasts in subtle amounts because apparently a singular large dose of cytoplasts augmenting my fireball ability would have filtered so much red mana though my body as to turn me into a fiery mindless hedonic and possibly kill me. Thanks for that. The cytoplasts protected my bare hands completely from the heat of my fire, and moreover, they augmented my fire abilities such that with the power of my own initiative, I can now sculpt blazing ropes, pillars, and waves of fire. They gave me some scrolls to record anything unusual concerning my cytoplasts, and a couple of spells were included there too for my safe return to the Mushroom Kingdom. My acrobatics were improved as well. I was told upon my leaving that they will keep a position open for me if I wanted to return, and that they would be interested to see how my cytoplasts worked out long term. A curious note as well; the vedalken psychiatrist told me to reflect on my time in the undercity if I should need help in battle or danger, if I should need something to throw a particularly difficult adversary or situation a curveball; I was sure to heed this advice.
There are no labels in the Mushroom Kingdom. If we are not great in our character, we are forgotten, that was not the type of setting for me to go to, not with a brother like mine. In this world, there is mana, five different types. In a world where the giant building structures gape to swollow you into obscurity, people can at least define themself by their mana type, it's a philosophy, none worse than other. I needed this all along, I am defined now by both the traits of my past, and the green and blue mana that are attracted to it. My hidden capacity for black mana usage is contained in a part of me that is stifled in the Mushroom Kingdom, it's a last resort, and it's a part of me now.