SUBJECT KNOWN AS ZEWING!

The cold, auto tune yet female toned voice over bashes through his already pounding head. His face cramps together as he tries to hold his head in his hands. But he can't.

*Hunh? Why can't I...*

Before he can even finish wondering, the same sentence is said by the same auto tune voice. But this time a notch harder than before. He can feel his whole body shudder under the sound. As if someone is trying torture him.

'What is this crap!?' screams Zachary Ewing. Zewing is just a name has uses on FanFiction. He tries to open his eyes but is immediately blinded by an extremely fierce light.

SUBJECT ZEWING ALIVE.

The voice is less forceful and a lot less louder. It's a pleasure to Zachary's ears. The light turns away. When he opens his eyes, he sees that he's tied to dentist chair with clamps around his wrists and legs. The room he's in is a well-lit lab. A square room with grayish white tiles on the floor and bland, bright white walls. In front of him, with some meters in between, is a staircase leading to platform. He can see someone bend over, with his back towards him. The guy looks busy with something but that has to wait; he has to know what's going on here.

'Hey!' he shouts at the man who gives no response. He continues doing what he was doing.

'HEY!' repeats Zachary louder. 'What's going on here!?'

It seems that some words came through. The guy lifts his head in the air and unplugs his earplugs. He looks over his left shoulder, seeing Zachary alive and kicking in the chair. He turns around with a satisfied smug on his face. It's a pretty young-looking guy. On first glance, you would say that he's 15. Maybe 16 but certainly not older. He is wearing a somewhat recognizable white mask, only covering the right side of his face. He has dark blond hair, slightly ragged on the back. He's not wearing a lab coat like any employee working in a lab should have. Instead a casual black t-shirt with a guy trying to take a dump while listening to an IPod. Above the pic, there is a text saying "IPood". The pants and shoes are not outstanding.
'Looky who's awake.' says the guy cheerful. His looks might say 15, but his voice is clearly heavier than a 15-year old. He walks down the stairs as Zachary keeps a good eye on him.

'Welcome back to the world of the living Zach.' he greets as the hops off the last step. 'How was your nap?'

*How does he know my name?*

The guy reads Zachary's puzzling from his face. 'You have no idea how I know you, where you are or why you're here?'
Zachary nods.

'Well...' He stops talking as he walks back up the stairs. One might wonder if he's really well in the mind. He bends over again, this time over some controls and with his head towards Zachary. '...on the first two, you can't get an answer I'm afraid.'

It sounds like he's apologizing but he's actually too busy pressing buttons to activate some process.

'And the third then?' proposes Zachary impatient. The calmness and the, quite frankly, weirdness of the nameless guy gives him the creeps.

'Aha! Of course you can know that one. You're here because...' He flips a switch as all sorts of lights start to burn. With a big smile on his face, he continues. '...I need you.'

'You need me? For what?'

'For an experiment...'

That word isn't comforting for Zachary. It's downright scary. 'Wait. I didn't apply for this!'

'Oh quit your panicking little chicken. Of course you applied. I would never hold someone against their will.' claims the guy.

With a growling sigh, Zachary makes clear that he's not down with it.

'Let me go. NOW!'

It has no effect. 'Go ahead. Struggle. I don't mind. I already got you where I want you.'

Zachary's situation is getting darker by every thought over what horrendous experiments will be performed on him. Sweat starts to flow down his cheek. His heart is pounding harder than his head is. The feeling of being powerless overrules the ratio. As an insane one, he starts to pull, trying to fight his way out of his confinement.

'I said let me out! Before I rip your spine out!'

The tone is threatening but makes no impression on the guy. After a few dozen seconds, the will to fight dies out. His hair is flunked, his face and body are moist. His arms and legs hurt and tingle. A nasty pain stings in his sides.

'You seem tired.' diagnoses the guy without looking at Zachary. 'Use the chair you're sitting on to your advantage and relax.'

Zachary does what the guy suggested. Indeed, it is quite comfortable. But it's a secret pleasure, the feeling of being calm even in imprisonment. He doesn't show the guy anything other than resistance.

'All settings are A-Okay. Time for the transport.'

This is again something Zachary hates to hear. Before he can even imagine what "transport" could be, his forehead is tied to the headrest with another clamp.

'Shit.' sums Zachary's current situation up perfectly.

Something starts to charge, he can hear it. He sees it is the guy that begins to push a handle forward. He has his plugs in again while exclaiming the percentages displayed on the monitor.

'20... 30... 35... 65 already!? Okay... 75... 85... 90...'

Zachary, tired of even thinking about trying to escape, closes his eyes and mentally prepares himself for the worst. He feels ready enough for a Mac-truck to hit him full on. When the sound is on its highest pitch, it suddenly vanishes however.

*Is it over?* Zachary opens one eye. He's still in the same room, still tied to the chair. It's somewhat soothing to see familiar situations. The guy, seems flash frozen. Stuck in his pushing pose.

'Uuuh... are you still alive?' inquires Zachary. There is no use in a dead guy. On the other hand, it means that the "transport" can't continue.
The guy reacts a second later by violently shaking his head.

'Brrrr! Ahum. Sorry. I was staring at something. Happens from time to time.' he laughs off awkwardly. 'There was something I wanted to ask you... Oh yeah! Your favorite color was purple, right? Violet?'

*My favorite color!?* He realizes that this guy is much more familiar than he could imagine. The mask and now a question recently asked to him via PM on FanFiction. I couldn't be a coincidence.

'No way!' he exclaims. 'You're Phantomf...'

'Shut your face!' interrupts the guy instinctively. 'No else needs to know.'

He pushes to lever to its extent as the highest pitch returns for a brief moment before everything disappears. Imploding in a minuscule white dot far away from him. It shines fierce lens flares occasionally. The rest is absolute darkness. The sounds are unusual for utter emptiness: a busy shopping streets. Cars and trucks driving by and the accumulated noise that is people talking. All seems pleasant as Zachary tries to wrap his head around the situation. He's free to roam wherever he wants all of the sudden. He holds his hands in front of his head. They feel cold, damp. A lens flare shines over them, making them luster faintly. He looks at them like they aren't his own. Everything seems to fall away what used to be himself. Exhausted, coming in from nowhere, he drops himself on the ground. It's like a soft fields of pillows, that he fell in. Face first of course.

But there is something fishy about these pillows. Something small and living starts to crawl in between the heap. It's gone after that, but then three of these creatures do the same. And then five. Ten. Twenty. When he feels something small with 8 individual legs walk over his arm, it's clear to Zachary that he's completely surrounded. His deepest fear has come through. Furthermore, the sounds of the busy streets are starting to get noisier. The talking turns to overcrowded rustle, the traffic into a jam. Horns blow and shouting and scolding are the only things he hears beside it. The talking turns to screaming. Widespread panic combined with the intense heat of blistering fires only done justice if described as one out of Fahrenheit 451. Zachary covers his ears, in a desperate attempt to sieve the crazy driving noises.}

'Stop it! STOP!'

His screaming lands on deaf ears. The noise continues to thrive while Zachary starts to lose his mind. First he's transported to somewhere unknown, then every limb and body part felt not of himself and then the final nail in the coffin: the spiders crawling all over and that pressuring ear-piercing noise.

'Help me...' cries Zachary softly. It's too much for him. He has been broken. It sickens him. 'Please help me. Save me GOD!'

'No god here.' is whispered in his right ear after a minute or so.

Without a sign of backing down, the noise disappears. The spiders evaporate. He can only hear something dripping, a small animal stirring inside something in front of him. When he opens his eyes, he sees he's laying face-down on the pavement of a dark alley. The pillows were an illusion. He tries to stand up, but is far too weak. His back hits the wall behind him. He slowly slides down as he can finally rest his head in his hands. In his rush to get up, he caught a glimpse of someone's legs moving towards him. They were a light shade of gray, very unusual. He feels a shadow thrown over him and two, small spots on his head burning.

'Ack!' He looks up. 'Hey what's your...?'

Zachary is at loss for words. Before him, mostly in the dark, stands a barefooted furry being staring down at him. Two, red dots where his eyes are supposed to be gaze at him. The creature has large, sharp claws on his hands. Their glittering silhouettes are visible thanks to faint light coming from a street on his right. On the being's left hand, a small flame burns on his index finger. An evil, all-embracing grin appears on the being's face, uncovering a set of razor-sharp fangs.

'Are you okay?' inquires the creature calm, tilting his head slightly to his left.

'I uh... guess I' am.' Zachary has no good response for it. He feels scarred for life. Maybe an execration but he feels there's no other way to describe it better.

The being wants to say something but stops; he sees something out of the corner of his eye. It's a spider crawling up from a crack in the pavement. It moves towards Zachary.

'Yeah.' cheers Zachary sarcastically. 'More of these...'

Without any hesitation, the being squashes the spider into a small puddle of mush.

'A thank you perhaps?' gestures the creature. However Zachary can't even say a thing. His head lowers back into his hands.
'Your fear is real, not?'

Zachary nods. Tears roll down his face while he tries to suppress them.

'You have no idea where you are. No idea why you're here...'

All true. Zachary couldn't agree more. He lifts his head from his hands. He looks into the creature's eyes and nods again.

The creature, as if he was Zachary's friend since forever, kneels down on front of him. It reveals his odd facial features. Small, almost transparent black flames burn out of the far corners of both eyes. A thin stream of dried up blood begins at the inner edge of the eye and ends on his cheek in teardrop. A red pentagram is drawn on his forehead. Two symbols are carved around his left eye.

'You have idea who you are anymore... do you?' grins the creature.

It startles Zachary when he realizes that the creature is telling the truth. He knows he's called Zachary, but is it truly his name? Or was it something else? With an unsure and worried expression on his face, he reaches for his wallet in back of this trousers. He opens it; his ID is gone.

*What is this for joke? My name is Zachary. No way around it. But why do I feel so... different?*

'I can feel you struggle. It's a feeling of loss. Loss of your identity... Pfff. It must be horrible.' tells the creature understanding.

Zachary knows all too well that he's being played, being manipulated to like the creature. He's the one who took away the sound and killed the last spider. The creature is mending with his mind, just like the protagonist in his own story he wrote.

The creature comes closer to Zachary's face. He waves his burning index finger by once.

'You are not yourself any longer. Don't wonder who you are...' The creature can't hold a chuckle. 'Rather what you are!'

'What are you talking about?' It felt like ages since he said a single word.

The creature suddenly grabs Zachary's wrist and bends the arm towards Zachary's face.

'See that?' says the creature forceful. 'That's fur! You're not a human anymore!'

Zachary's eyes open up wide. He turns his hand around and sees purple, slightly violet fur all over his arms, no exception.

'What is... this!?' exclaims Zachary terrified.

'Is it coming back to you Cuisac? Who you are? Who you serve?'

'Cuisac? My name isn't Cuisac.' claims Zachary.

Doubt strikes him. Memories of his own start to water and are being replaced by those of the purple furred Cuisac. An urge, tending to drugs and alcohol comes up.

'It's coming back isn't it?'

Zachary grabs his head again. The pounding, bashing in his head makes a full-on comeback.

'These are not my own!' screams Zachary. 'Get them out!'

He turns his head away from the creature trying to stop the process. He puts his whole body in action, as if he's diverting all power he has to hold his own identity. Zachary had no idea he was capable of this. It has effects on how he looks like. His muscles feel empty and start to shrivel. He's getting skinnier too. To the extent a human, well 'transforming human' can go. But his consciousness deteriorates because of this. Purple fur grows takes hold anywhere his body falls apart. A sharp sting follows after every tiny hair has grown. He cringes as the agony becomes too much to handle.
*I will not change.* he tells himself, shaking his head. *I will not change. I will not change. I will no...*

A "pop" sound cuts him off. Suddenly he has nothing. He lost control over his own body. Zachary Ewing is nothing more than an inhabitant of someone else's body. Someone named Cuisac. Someone… who's not a human. But a purple vulpine.

From his cringing lifts Cuisac his head to face the creature. His face is dry and wrinkled. He stares at the creature with a glassy look in his eyes. His mouth is a little open while he nozzles his lips. The stings that Zachary felt earlier, are apparently minuscule holes where a needle was pierced through the skin to inject some daily dose of drugs.

'So… I see you're still on the prescriptions I handed you?' says the creature to Cuisac who has no direct reaction. Instead, he keeps staring with that same expressionless glance. Until he finally reacts.

'Uhuhuhuhu. Dude… I have no idea who you are.' claims Cuisac, as high as the Empire State.

'You don't? Perhaps I need to remind you of whom I' am…'

'Perhaps you should! You know…'

The creature comes closer to Cuisac's face, even closer than he already was. Cuisac simply laughs at the creature's, quote on quote, "small red dots" for eyes. But his laughing degrades once a magma-colored pentagram appears around the red dots.

'L-lord Delarbe!' stumbles Cuisac as he gets on his knees and humbly bows before Delarbe. 'I'm so sorry for not recognizing your greatness. Please forgive me...'

A cocky smile appears on Délarbé's face. 'Of course I do. You were my first host.'

It's a huge compliment, even when not brought that way. Délarbé has had four previous hosts, Cuisac included. All were killed under mysterious conditions except for him. All of these hosts were deemed 'unfit' or not strong enough to gain all the symbols by The Gatekeeper. With Cuisac, Délarbé never came further than the second symbol. However, because he was Délarbé's first and most beloved, since his pain is kind of the same as Délarbé's, he generously suggested Cuisac the possibility to immortality. Cuisac accepted this. It was either that or death. Whoever, society was affected by Cuisac's host status. It saw him as the killing machine Délarbé turned him into. He had to kill and ravage. What was his reason for it? Being possessed by a demon spirit that wants to take over all without any authority noticing it? That would reveal the entire operation. Instead, alcohol and drugs were put to the blame by Délarbé.

And Zachary, stuck and powerless inside someone's body, is the only outsider who knows that truth now. It makes him sick. He wants to scream, he wants to cry out. But knowing that no one will hear through the thick barriers put up in front of him, he cringes in a corner. Before trying it all again to end with the same result. It's a vicious circle. For him, it's all over. He's an accomplice in whatever Délarbé is up too. And there is nothing he can do about it. He can feel it all starts slipping away…

In the real world, Délarbé hands Cuisac a digital recorder. With the message to find smut about Krystal. Anything that could connect her promise to get Fox out of there with something with opposite intentions. He guesses on something with Panther.

'Go out my loyal host.' he tells almost fatherly as he caresses Cuisac's right cheek. Like a cat and any other Son, Cuisac starts to purr as a black goo starts to envelop his face. His eyes turn into a fierce yellow and the tail becomes a rattle.

'Find me what I need to have and I will get you out of this phony life.'

It's a promise, a pact with a devil that Cuisac happily signs. This also means that Zachary signed it. Not that anything could get any worse for him. Délarbé, still having that cocky smile on his face, looks after the new Number 4 of his Sons of Plunder.

*Welcome... to the Sons of Plunder Zachary Ewing.* thinks Délarbé as he turns around and starts to whistle his all too familiar tone.

He walks out of the empty alleyway, onto the streets. They are ridden with corpses, mutilated and or burned. Trucks tumbled on their sides with their cargo scattered all around. Police cruisers lie in ashes while leftover transmit nothing but static and repeat previous messages. The road goes up a hill from here on. On top of the hill, Délarbé looks out over the east of Papetoon City. The moon ominously highlights the otherwise pitch black buildings and roads. A power outrage has ran through that part.
The view is mostly the high-rise of Papetoon City. An old colosseum that has been laying in ruins since a century is buried in between higher buildings build over what was once a park. One of those, though smaller buildings, on top of another hill, is Délarbé's target.

'Let's pay her a visit.' he says to himself in a distorted voice, never been heard coming from his mouth before.

*I hope you enjoyed being Re-Insanified…*

Insanity:
Noun [U]/ɪnˈsæn.ə.ti/
Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Perfect:

Adjective (WITHOUT FAULT) /ˈpɜː.fekt/

Something unachievable, no matter how you try.

Welcome back to Perfect Insanity. With the greatest thanks to FF Zewing for his support and interest. New chapters for Perfect Insanity will up soon. I hope you journey with me through the deepest, most painful and blood-soaked ways to plague Krystal on her quest to stay on one track. Fox or Panther's.