Hey, y'all! So here I am again with the long/much-awaited for chapter after leaving y'all leaving for. . . what. . . about two months, more or less? Sorry about that . . . I'm not really sorry, because I was so very busy with a lot of other things, but hey, it's better than the three-month update I was telling you guys about in the last chapter, right? So that's better than nothing. Of course, all of you nice (and not-so-sympathetic) reviewers/readers don't take excuses like that, so leave me to shuffle my feet to the Author's Corner of Shame. (On my profile.) So this is slightly shorter than the last chapter (even though I had major writer's block after the beginning of the simulation section of the chapter) so I hope you don't mind. Keep in mind there is one more chapter!

And of course thank you all for the lovely reviews; thirty reviews for one chapter is the best record I've got so far (with Clandestine Covers coming in close behind - and that will be updated after this is finished!); they were much appreciated, and I hope you continue the kind gestures with reviews for this chapter! R&R and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own lab Rats.

Life was just a whole timeline. There was the far, prehistoric past, and then the medieval past, and then recent past. And then came the present, which really wasn't there. Was there really such thing as the "present?" The present came whooshing by and then fleeted quickly into the past, and really, life was just a fast-moving snapshot/movie—no present, it went straight from past to the future. But then, if there was a present, it seemed to be divided by a second, because even if a second passed by so quickly, there were milliseconds; nanoseconds; that were so much faster than a second. To find the "present" would mean dividing time up into such tiny pieces that there would become a point where you simply couldn't chop time in half any more. Therefore, did the present really exist? If you said the word "now" that present would already be gone by the time you even parted your lips before saying the word, because your brain had already ordered your mouth to begin making the beginning phonics of the word "now."

Ah, the future. Something that lay ahead; it was something unknown and unpredictable. There were many dangers that lay ahead in the future—attack, getting mugged—and the prospect of death. Such were these "ideas" that could happen any time that should have made Chase think twice about his actions in the so-called "present" before setting them down permanently, etched in stone, in the "past." And this future, so it was, was what Chase couldn't let himself think of the most. Because he was afraid of what might happen in the future. He could do something that he would seriously regret and then he could get in a deep, deep hole of misfortunes, big and little. He would do something so regrettable that he'd spend the rest of his life in that hellhole, trying to prove to himself that he wasn't a monster.

And so it was on this terrible, fateful timeline, that Chase found himself getting harsher. Colder. Indifferent.

Bree knew that Chase was changing, in some mysterious way. But it wasn't really until school until she finally realized the full effects of how Chase was different.

She had been walking down the hall and then saw Trent and Chase arguing heatedly over something… what were they saying? She honestly wished that she had super-hearing like Chase—that must really come in handy!

She tiptoed forward until she was just around the corner from where Trent and Chase were fighting by the corner locker.

"Hey, Not-Dooley, why won't you do my homework? Are you scared to do it? Do you feel like you're not smart enough?" Trent began lisping like a baby near the end and began pinching Chase's cheeks the way Grandma Rose would do with Leo, who would of course be dying fifty times of embarrassment. Why would Trent just stop? He had to realize that he would fail his tests if he didn't do his homework—how else would he learn all of those… facts?

Chase grimaced inwardly at his thoughts, which suddenly seemed illogical… and then he stared right into Trent's taunting eyes, and said in a spine-chilling voice, "I'm not doing your homework for your own good."

Trent looked slightly scared, the same way he had when Spike had come out, but this wasn't Spike. This was all Chase, and this new Chase had had enough of being pushed around.

"What's wrong with you?"

Chase's pupils dilated like an angry wolf's. "There's nothing wrong with me," he said, a deadly tone lacing his words. "I'd say it's you that there's something wrong with." He stepped closer. Slightly closer.

Trent wasn't stupid—

Correction—Trent was stupid, but he knew warning signs when he saw them. And there were big, flashing red lights going off right now. Something was off. The nerd would never even stand up for himself before. Now he was growling and threatening and pushing…

"You win this time," Trent said, trying to make his voice sound arrogant and cocky, like he was being generous, letting Chase "win." "But this isn't over for now!"

"Oh, for now is no such thing," Chase smiled, enjoying the fear emanating from Trent. "It is far from over." His fingers were flexing, clawing inward and outward, somewhat like a cat's claws.

Trent's eyes widened. There is no way out. Time to meet my match.

Bree was worried about Chase. He didn't seem to be his usual happy self. He wasn't smiling anymore, he wasn't feeling the thrill of correcting a teacher at school, and he wasn't joining Adam and Leo on their usual daily pranks. She had watched in the background, silently seething as she wrung out her dripping, pink-colored hair and wiped her sopping wet hands on her spoiled-butter-covered tie-dye shirt, and seen Chase glare at her other brothers as they asked him to help them with their homework.

She'd seen him beat up Trent. And Trent had limped away from it while Principal Perry allowed it go unpunished… and now Bree wasn't sure what to do.

This wasn't her usual worry. Not the typical worry of a sister, such as worrying about the fact that Chase had gotten an A-minus on his home economics class, or the fact that he was being unusually quiet and then he would reveal that he had taken a dare by Leo to be quiet for twenty-four hours, but this worry was just different. It was honest, deep down, worried type of worry. There was no other way to describe it. It was the type of worry that rooted deep into Bree and overwhelmed her with all of the "what-ifs" flying through her brain. It was the type of worry that wouldn't let her go and shook her and burrowed deep into her brain, niggling at her.

She may never admit to the outside, public world, or to Mr. Davenport, to Tasha, or even to her own brothers, and not even herself, that she cared about her brothers more than they could ever imagine. Her brothers meant the world together. They were the team of ultimate success—yes, even counting Leo, no matter how many times he "Leo-d" things up, he was the key to their missions as the Mission Specialist. They were a team, to repeat, and when she had lost her bionics after she smashed her chip on heedless will, she felt useless and broken because her brothers had gone on without her. She didn't blame them for leaving her behind. They had to save the innocent people in the fire. But they had gone on without her, as a trio, and Bree had felt left out. Alone. Abandoned.

So to reiterate, Bree was worried about Chase. He had injured her. She had known that he hadn't meant it. She could tell he was scared. Worried. Now that itself didn't bother Bree. He was often scared and worried, although those were shallow memories. These kinds of memories dissipated. This scared-and-worried Chase was different because unlike all those other times, Chase was trying to block it out. He was becoming cold. Distant. Far from evil, Bree would think. She could never say her own brother was evil. But he was becoming… how do I say this gently? He's beginning to have a heart of stone. Even though he hadn't meant to hurt her, some part inside of Bree convinced her he had.

Screams.

Loud screams.

Loud, shattering screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill, desperate screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill, desperate, gut wrenching screams.

Screams.

They echoed in Chase's mind as, in reality, he stood peacefully snoring the night away in his capsule.

He was standing on a small, slightly raised mound. Anthill. A mountain. And yet he stood up above all of the rest as he watched his world shatter. There were people screaming everywhere, running around in the pandemonium of the perfect storm as the purple and pink clouds surrounded the mountain, which started to shape into a pyramid.

Are you ready for this?

Chase looked at the panicking people, as they screamed, fleeing the perfect storm, and deep inside of him, he felt an easing calm. He was the eye of the hurricane. His exterior could rip apart people's worlds, but all would be calm in his. He could never feel pain. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. He could never feel anything.

He was nothing and everything at the same time. He was so small, standing up on the mountain that wasn't, but such a big part of everything at the same time.

Do you dare to do this?

Chase raised his arms, and suddenly, he found himself in his skin-tight mission suit. It gripped his body, and it felt tighter than usual. A sense of power came, as if it enhanced his bionics whenever he donned the suit.

The purple and pink clouds slowly began descending down onto the people, and soon, every plant, shrub, flower, every rock, pebble, grain of sand, began lifting up into the hair and slowly hurling around Chase.

The people continued to scream.

And Chase didn't stop. He enjoyed this feeling of inflicting pain. It made him feel like it was meant to be. He could never feel pain.

You should know what you're falling for.

"I do," Chase said out loud, and the screams got louder and louder until they were practically ear shattering.

The people began to disappear, and Chase felt his dark side soar into the world, soar out of the demon depths, and saw it join the storm, the perfect storm of his soul.

This love will make you levitate.

"Will it?" His love for causing destruction, death, despairs. The world was tearing apart; the trees and plants and rocks were surging towards the people on the ground, so very, very far away…

Like a bird, and Chase started to float, more flying then levitating, as his dark side continued to surround the Earth.

Like a bird without a cage. "I have no cage," Chase mused. "This is all mine. And there's nothing in the way. My way."

But if you choose to walk away… Chase jolted up, fell from the air, and awoke.

Adam, Bree, and Chase were in the simulator, fighting the rebels in Syria.

"Normally I would have you train with the ninjas, but there's been a glitch and I can't do that right now. I could fix the bug, but I've been working on these rebels for a while. One of your missions in the future may be to help out in the Middle East and sort the mess, but for now, I give you these guys!" Donald whipped out a new pair of simulation glasses and said, "Are you ready for this?"

Chase felt sick inside. Exactly the same words that had appeared in his dream—no, his nightmare.

Bree shot a worried glance at Chase, and Chase gave her ice-cold stare. "Stop worrying about me," he growled. "I'm fine."

"Chase, do you dare to do this?" Bree said.

Chase shook his head surprised. Bree never would use the word "dare" casually. It seemed like a word that wasn't used in everyday context unless it was a "dare," like the noun "dare." Not the verb "dare."

Instinctively, a blue plasma ball appeared on his fingertips, crackling with energy, and Bree stepped back.

Donald noticed but said nothing. Chase reminds me of Douglas, his subconscious mind said easily.

What? No! I trained Chase to be a hero. Chase is a hero.

Then why's he acting so… Douglas-y?

Were you going to say evil?

Donald came to the surface of his thoughts and said, "Okay, guys, you can go now."

"I bet you when we interrogate the leader he'll say, 'Ahhhh!' as an answer after I'm through with him," said Adam smiling.

"He's mine," Chase said, sounding deadly.

Adam was about to crack a joke when he looked at Chase's eyes… deep green, deep brown, a swirling mixture of both… and they looked like chips of ice right now, boring into him like icicles through a person's body.*

"He's mine," Chase repeated, and the energy dancing on his fingertips flared.

"All right, Chasey, all right!"

Chase stepped back and let the energy die down. What's happening to me? I'm threatening my own siblings. I'm supposed to be a hero, not a killer. Not a monster. A hero. A human. A human hero is what I am.

Oh, are you, really? Chase's voice came back and mentally he rolled his eyes. I can get rid of annoying kids at school but I can't get rid of my own voice. How's that for a change?

"Let's go," Bree interrupted his mental debate, and they stepped onto the platform.

Chase had branched off from his siblings as he faced a massive army of marching rebels down the dusty streets of Simulation Syria, or SS, as he said it, in his head.

They were in a formation of fifteen by twenty, and Chase began turning over ideas in his head of what to do. Go straight into them. It's what they're least expecting. When they surround us, I'll have Adam send out his blast-wave.

"Adam, Bree, follow me in my force field—we're going to go right into the heart of the formation. They can't reach us in my force field, and they'll part easily."

"Are you crazy?" Bree sputtered. "That's probably what they would want us to do anyways!"

"Which is why it is least expected," Chase retorted. "They've prepared for it, so when Adam sends out his blast-wave, they won't be expecting that."

"Just tell me what I'm blasting!" Adam interrupted and Chase and Bree continued bickering, debating how sane Chase really was.

"I don't know what's up with you, Chase, but your mind must be affected," Bree said harshly. "You weren't like this before! I wish you would change yourself before you kill us all." Goddamn it, I just made him angrier. I didn't mean to! But it's the truth… he could seriously injure one of us.

But in training we're not supposed to feel injured.

Think again.

Chase lunged at her, and she sidestepped him, but he simply grabbed onto her and wrestled her to the ground.

"Never question what I say," Chase snarled. "What I say goes."

Bree would never have said it out loud, (quite similar to the way she denied caring for her crazy brothers) but she was terrified. So this is what Trent was feeling.

Why isn't Donald stopping this?

Finally, Chase let Bree up, and said, "Lesson learned?"

Bree nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Good. Follow the plan. The leader is mine."

Adam let loose his blast-wave as the ninjas closed in closer and closer on the three, and several of them rippled backwards.

"Oh, yeah, bro! Cue the canned clapping!" Adam shouted, raising his arms in victory. Bree smiled at his happiness, and glanced at Chase.

Caught off guard by his actions, she watched in horror.

"Okay, okay, so we beat them. But so what? They're the enemy. Who knows if they come back? They always come back because they're never going to accept the defeat, and then you're caught off-guard and you lose. When I 'attacked' them I was only making sure that they didn't rise again." Chase stated emotionless, carelessly.

"Chase, it's not like that…" Donald pleaded. "They were defeated and you knew it. Even Adam knew it." (Whereas Adam nodded vigorously, focused on the three-pound meatball sandwich in front of him.) "But you kept on attacking. They were down. They were finished. If I didn't know you…" Donald squinted at Chase even though he highly doubted he had eye problems. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you enjoyed inflicting the pain."

Chase flinched.

But Bree knew the flinch was shallow, hollow, and broken. She had seen Chase's facial expression when he'd ripped apart the simulation with molecular kinesis, watched as he'd hurled plasma ball after plasma ball at the buildings, causing them to crash down on the injured, observed the small smile on his face as he watched the simulation of Syria crumble.

She had seen it all.

She had seen him for what he was now.

And there was no stopping it.

Coldness, the lust for power... it had lodged itself in Chase's mind, his soul, his heart.

It had settled, rooted, ready to grow. And now there was no going back.

Good as you hoped it was? I mean, who doesn't love conflicted Chase? *scans sea of readers and sees no hands raised* I didn't think so. I really hope that you liked it enough to give a decent review (again, they are much appreciated) so please do so! (Wow, short A/N.) The next chapter will be posted before Thanksgiving (hopefully . . . and yes, daphrose, I am aware that that's a misuse of the word hopefully, but I find it appropriate here, so then so be it!) and during the wait time between now and Thanksgiving I will be relieving Clandestine Covers of its hiatus; does that sound good? So I'll see you all soon for maybe a one-shot idea that I absolutely had to post because the idea was perfect in my head, or for the next update! See y'all around! And don't forget to review!

Footnote No. 1: (Ah, sorry about forgetting this to the readers who read this and pointed out it was missing) Do icicles boring through bodies bear a similar resemblance to another movie? Hmm? (If you guys can guess the reference - there are two - then you get a shout-out, and, if you've written any stories, a recommendation to other authors telling them to check out your work!)

(I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors and/or forgotten footnotes A guest has reviewed saying there was a forgotten footnote . . . If y'all would be so kind as to help me out here because I can't find it . . . maybe it was for the Dark Horse references, if anybody caught those. But anyhow, where is the forgotten footnote?)