I had to take this one down and re-write it. But it's about the same; just no 'lost puppy'.

All characters belong to Tom McGillis and Jen Pertsch

/

'They never give up,' he thought as he jumped over another hedge, 'This is getting ridiculous! I need shelter!' A house came into view and he headed for it, grabbing a door knob and finding it locked. "Help!" He screamed as he banged on the door, "Is someone there?! Please help me!" He heard something inside, someone walking to the door, murmuring. He heard the locks being disabled. He stepped away as the door opened, revealing someone familiar.

"Wha-?!" this person gasped as he ran through the doors, shoving her away as he relocked the door, sliding down the wood as he felt his body dangerously close to collapsing. "Chris, what the heck are you doing here?!" She heard her scream, making him look into those glaring, dark eyes of Gwen.

"Gwen," He started out quietly, "Please tell them I am not here if they come."

"What the heck are you talking about?" She asked, "How did you even find me?!" Chris' eyes grew wide as he heard the sounds of a car door opening and closing. He scrambled to take shelter in a closet, leaving the teen to wonder if that just actually happen, and if she should stomp over there and pull him out by his hair. But a knock at the door changed her mind. A peep through the peep hole revealed a man in a black suit and glasses was waiting outside, an uncomfortably warm smile on his lips. She begrudgingly undid the locks save for the chain, and opened the door. "Can I help you?" She asked as she peered through the small crack.

"Sorry to disturb you," the man said with the tip of his hat, "You see, we're on the lookout for a man and sources say that he is in this neighborhood. Have you seen a man that looks like this as of late?" He produced a photo of Chris and held it to her nose. It was possibly an old photo, his black hair was shorter, and was wearing green coveralls stained with oil. "If you have any information," he continued, "It will be a great help." The options weighed on her mind, on one hand, she could send Chris to jail, and never have him bug her for possibly the rest of her life. But on the other hand, this guy was the very definition of suspicious, with bonus points of being a person who could scare one of the most sadistic and evil persons she has personally met.

"Sorry, I haven't seen that guy around." Gwen said.

"I see," the man said as he withdrew the photo, then tipped his hat to her, "Sorry to disturb you. Have a pleasant night and keep your doors locked up tight." He turned to leave as Gwen shut and relocked the door. She peered through the peephole and watched the man walk from her porch and back to his van, shutting the door and driving off. She heard the closet door squeak open and saw Chris' pitiful face peering through the small crack.

"He's gone." She said. As he got out, Gwen got a good look of him, and almost winced. The man's eyes were dull and dark with a lack of sleep, barely struggling to stay open. His hair was unkempt and hung over his face, scraggily and shiny with grease. His overall outfit looked like it was stolen from a bargain bin at a thrift store, dark grey hoodie sported a few holes and stained with oil, black jeans displaying more holes and stains that could be either more oil or blood, and mud-caked sneakers on the verge of falling to pieces. In short, he looked like he hit rock bottom. "What…happened to you?" She croaked out when she finally regained composure.

"Long story," He uttered quietly. "One you don't need to know about. All I can say is they're after me."

"Who's after you?" Gwen asked, "Are they cops? Guys you owe money to? Some guys from the production studio?"

"No." Chris replied, "Nothing like that. They just want to get me. No real big deal, but I just had to get a little shelter. I'll leave right away."

"You're not going anywhere." She said as she blocked the door. But Chris lifted her up and placed her aside. "Seriously, you're not leaving until you tell me what's going on." Gwen continued as she tried to force herself between the man and the door.

"Gwen, I gotta go." Chris urged desperation tainting his usually laid-back voice, "Good girls like you don't need to be involved with things like this."

"I got involved when I covered for your ass," Gwen pointed out, "So at least tell me why that guy is after you."

"Because I didn't kill you." He replied as he finally got to the locks and worked to undo them. Gwen in turn punched him, sending him toppling onto his back as his head collided with a small table. "You don't give up, do you?" He asked as he glared at her, "And besides, that really hurt; did you take self-defense lessons or something?"

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, "But when one of the biggest pains of my life suddenly shows up to my door, looking like a hobo and saying that a bunch of guys are trying to kill him, I want to know! We can work out a deal; you tell me what I want to know, and you can crash here tonight."

"You'll only get hurt." Chris said as he tried to get up.

"Well, at least get something to eat." She said. A loud grumble interrupted Chris' rebuttal, prompting him to quietly groan in defeat.

"You have a deal." He said as Gwen smirked.

"And don't try anything stupid," She said, "I've already had to deal with your shit for as long as I've known you." She led the man to the kitchen, forcing him to sit down at the wooden table for four. "It's nothing fancy," Gwen said as she opened a plastic container, "It's only leftover spaghetti."

"Can you bring it here?" Chris asked.

"Don't you want it warmed up?" Gwen asked, "It's pretty cold."

"I'll eat it as is." He said.

"Okay." She said as she placed the container in front of her. Instantly, Chris dug in as handfuls of pasta disappeared in quick gulps, red sauce dripping from his lips. "Whoa, slow down!" Gwen said, "I can't help you if you choke!" But the pasta carnage continued as the older man demolished the meager portion in under five minutes, leaving him to lick tomato sauce off his fingers and around the container.

"Sorry," He gasped, "I…guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"That carnage would put Owen to shame!" She exclaimed.

"How is Owen?" Chris asked.

"I guess he's okay," Gwen said, "I mean, I don't talk a lot with the big guy, but we keep in touch; he's picked up needlework."

"Good to know," He said, "He's a good kid. All of you are very good kids."

"Even Duncan?" She asked.

"Even Duncan," He replied, "He's rough around the edges, but he just needs to accept tender love and care, and he'll be a good kid."

"We're talking about the kid who blew up your mansion!" Gwen reminded.

"He did?" He asked.

"He did, with dynamite, on television! He even did a dopey dance in the ashes!" She said "Wait, you forgot about that? You were so broken up about it, you barely spoke for a full day! You had him sent to jail!"

"Oh." Chris said.

"That's all you can say?" She asked.

"Yeah," He said, "Probably because I never owned a mansion to begin with. Or anything, for that matter."

"Wait, what?" She asked.

"I suppose this is where I uphold my end of the bargain." Chris started, "The truth is that I was supposed to kill you in the first season, as well as the other 21 children. Or teenagers in this case, you're not really a kid anymore."

"Wait, what?!" Gwen asked.

"I'm part of a secret organization that is trying to decrease the human population," He continued, "And it's done through reality programing. Randomly selected persons are recruited to participate in the 'reality show', making complete fools of themselves for the sake of quality programing and the promise of a meager cash prize. And once they are 'eliminated', they are taken off-set, killed, and then replaced with a replica agent that is programed to go back home, and begin a massacre, blaming it all on a made-up terrorist group. Basically, the organization I'm a part of is in control of all that you watch. Does that about cover everything?"

"Half." Gwen replied, "But what about you?"

"Well," Chris started hesitantly, "I'm an experiment. I guess the best way to describe what I am is that I'm sort of a test-tube cyborg."

"A…test-tube cyborg?" Gwen asked, "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's simple," He explained, "First you take the genetics of a 'mother' and 'father', create a synthetic egg and sperm from such to initialize fertilization-."

"I don't need a biology lesson!" She blurted out.

"Right," He realized, "Basically, I was 'created', then outfitted with inorganic parts."

"So, some sort of cyborg, or whatever." Gwen said, "So, does that mean you might have a flame thrower in your arm or something?"

"Nothing that outlandish," Chris said, "It's more like turning your brain into a computer. My entry ports are on the back of my neck, but they're covered up most of the time."

"Entry ports?" She repeated.

"Yeah," He replied, "It's like what you would find on your laptop or any standard computer. This allows programmers to install my host protocols and any updated information about contestants, location, and other vital information. Once the season ends, they uninstall it, and I'm left in the dark until the next season."

"But you should've been able to remember that Duncan was thrown in jail." Gwen asked.

"Maybe my programmers deemed the memory 'insignificant' for long term memory storage." Chris suggested.

"Alright, what about that 'host protocol' you said earlier?" She asked.

"A better way to explain that is that it's an upload of my personality and overall mission." He explained, "Have you noticed I've grown more sadistic and cruel over the seasons, right?"

"Yeah, you did." She admitted.

"They keep updating it before each season," He explained, "Because…something's wrong with me."

"What do you mean?" She asked, "Are you sick?"

"No," He replied, "It's more like…I have a defect."

"Like, you're not performing your mission, or whatever?" Gwen asked.

"Exactly," Chris said, "No matter how mean I was made to be, I couldn't kill any of you. Or at the very least, send you to the very place where you were supposed to die."

"Wait, that's why there was the Playa de Losers in the first season?" Gwen asked.

"I told the intern that was driving the boat the wrong directions, so it would lead to that special area." He explained, "They didn't kill anyone there because the persons that lived there had internet and phone access, so the risk of being exposed was way too high. I basically made the organization pay a small resort to host a bunch of teenagers, just to keep their plans under wraps."

"So, all those other times…" Gwen said.

"All to keep you and everyone from the kill zone." Chris finished, "I know it's not glamorous to be flushed down a toilet, or launched with a catapult, or to be shoved out of a plane in a foreign country. But it's better than being dead."

"I nearly fell over Niagara Falls!" Gwen exclaimed.

"Sorry." He said, "Were you hurt?"

"No, as you can see." Gwen said as she gestured to her body, "I somehow made it out okay. The other guy got hurt really bad."

"Is he…" He asked.

"No, he didn't die." She said, "Was in traction the last I've checked. Guess you really are a different person without that protocol, or whatever."

"More or less," Chris said, "Despite my increased aggressive behavior, I could not bring myself to kill anyone; program or not. After the fifth season, they had enough and ordered for my extermination."

"What about Chef?" Gwen asked.

"He's my supervisor," He explained, "Keeps me safe. Keeps me under control. But…he's also a very close friend."

"Isn't he going to hunt you down?" She asked.

"No, doubt it." Chris said, "He's the one that uploaded an improvised personality into me and allowed me to escape before I was exterminated."

"Oh." Gwen said.

"I think that covers about everything." Chris said, "Anything else you want to know?"

"I…think that's all I can stomach at this moment." Gwen admitted.

"Now if you excuse me," The older man said as he stood up, "I got to get back to being on the run again."

"Hold on a second!" Gwen said.

"What now?" Chris asked.

"Our deal!" She reminded.

"Right," Chris uttered, "I tell you what's going on, and I get a meal. That's the agreement we've reached, and have been fulfilled as far as I'm concerned. So, what else do you want from me?"

"I…I don't know!" The teenager said as she threw her hands in the air.

"Are you…concerned about me?" Chris asked.

"I shouldn't, but I am!" Gwen admitted, "I mean, you've made my life a living hell in the past. And yet, you're not the guy I hate. Just stay until morning, okay? It's late."

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah," The teen replied, "You can take a shower too; you reek."

"Yeah, I do." He admitted, "But I'll take you up on your deal and stay until morning. After that, I'm gone."

"Fine by me." Gwen said, feeling a little satisfied.

/

To be continued.