A/N: Heya. It's been a while, eh? Bloody writer's block. Well, to the best of my ability, I'll try not to leave it this late again.

As Wilson ran, he became aware of a miniscule trail of infection left behind the Mercers. Ordinarily, this would have been invisible, but in his newfound Infected vision, it manifested as a dull glow. He wouldn't have even been able to see it if he wasn't searching, but in his heightened concentration, it provided an easy way to track them.

Due to the fact that a sentient infection travelling at roughly 80 mph is faster than a bus, Wilson was able to make up ground on the Mercers fairly quickly. As he approached the town's outskirts, the two bastions of viral death, shining like beacons through the bus's steel, came into his field of view. As he began to close the gap, the thought that he wasn't exactly inconspicuous came into his mind. Swinging onto a nearby building, he ran to its roof before accelerating and quickly overtaking the sluggish vehicle. An idea on how he could go undetected began to form in his head.

A few miles down the road, he came to a stop. An old lady stood at the bus stop in front of him. Slowly, Wilson began to advance on her, wondering how he should proceed.

"Do I need to concentrate, or does it just...Dammit, how do they do it?" He stood there for several seconds, pondering, before a voice rang out from somewhere.

"Dave." The voice took Wilson by surprise. It seemed to come from everywhere, and at the same time, nowhere. He looked around for its source, but then noticed that the lady hadn't reacted. Before he could say anything, the voice rang out again.

"Dave." This time, Wilson realised where the voice was coming from. It was inside his head. Experimentally, he tried thinking a response.

"Can you hear me?" he thought. In response, the voice rang out once more.

"Yes, Dave, I can. And I know you can hear me." Emboldened by the response, Wilson decided to get a few answers.

"How do you know my name?" he thought. The voice paused for a split second, then rang out once more.

"That's not important," it said. Sensing that this wouldn't get him anywhere, Wilson decided to try a different tack.

"Who are you, then?" he asked. "And why are you in my head?" The voice paused for a few seconds before replying.

"You can call me ARES. The others do. And our goals are the same for the moment: taking down ZEUS and ERIS." Wilson raised one eyebrow.

"What is this, Christmas? What's your angle?" ARES wasted no time replying.

"No tricks. No angle. Our goals are the same, and the only way you can realise them is with my help." Wilson shrugged.

"Fair enough, then. Where do you want me to start?" ARES' voice rang out in his head.

"Consume that old lady in front of you," it said. "Simple enough." Wilson shook his head.

"That's the issue," he thought. "I have no idea how to do it." Before he could say anything else, ARES forestalled him.

"I can keep control over your more complex powers" he said. "Just kill her, relax, and I'll take care of the rest." Remaining silent, Wilson walked toward her before taking her in a full-nelson and snapping her neck like a twig. At the sight of her limp body falling forward, some primal instinct took Wilson over. He leaned forward, catching the falling lady in his arms before landing on his knees.. As soon as she made contact, tendrils spewed forward from his chest and arms, tearing into her flesh, breaking her body down before his eyes. Being a Blackwatch operative, this sight didn't even make him flinch; in fact, the only emotion it inspired was a raw, ravenous hunger, a primal need for sustenance. As the bloody remains of her body drew into his chest, ARES hissed with satisfaction. As always, her memories began to surface, but they were vague, blurry. ARES' voice superimposed itself on top of them.

"We don't need her interrupting you," he said. Wilson was silent for a while.

"Tell me," ARES said. "When you tore her apart, did you feel any remorse?" Wilson, on his knees in a pool of blood, shook his head. He could almost visualise ARES smiling.

"Good," he said. "Now tell me, did it feel good, feeling her body sustain yours?" Wilson nodded, a mad grin of realisation spreading on his face.

"Yes..." he hissed, both mentally and physically. It hadn't just felt good. It was like a straight shot of amphetamine directly to his brain. ARES' voice echoed in his head once more.

"Would you like to do it again?" he asked. Wilson nodded, grinning evilly.

"Good!" ARES shouted eagerly. "Then prove it, Dave!" Wilson needed no further encouragement. He leapt to his feet, before planting his fist into the face of the nearest person to him. The man flew back under the punch's power, before being impaled by extending tentacles and dragged back into Wilson's waiting chest. Wilson heard a maniacal laugh emanate through his head. Compulsively, spurred on by the new feeling of elation, he began to laugh himself, a roaring noise that echoed throughout the streets. This maniacal sound was soon punctured as the sound of a rumbling bus came into his consciousness.

"Oh shit!" he shouted. Before he could do anything, however, his body compulsively shifted into that of the old lady he had recently consumed.

"Thanks, ARES," he breathed, before the bus came to a stop in front of him. He walked on, calmly paying his fare, before scanning the bus' passengers. Alex's fashion statement stuck out like a sore thumb, and he quickly spotted the brooding sociopath. Quietly, he sat down opposite him, looking as nonchalant as possible, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

That night, the opportunity arose. As they neared the border to New Jersey, the bus now devoid of passengers, the driver prepared to switch places. Alex sat hunched forward, quietly brooding and distracted from the world around him. Dana kept her head rested on the seat in front of her, quietly snoring. Quietly, Wilson leaned forward. He drew his fist back, ready to release a punch that would tear Alex's jaw from its fastening. Tentacles encircled the arm in anticipation of the punch. After a sufficient charge time, he let the punch fly on a direct course to Alex's face.

Things seemed to move in slow motion from there. As the fist moved on its deadly course, Alex turned, a look of surprise on his face. But then, just before the fist made contact, a set of tentacles whipped into view, slamming the fist to one side and driving it into the wall. Wilson looked up the length of the tentacles to see Dana's "sleeping" face break out into a smile. One open eye peeked out from her fringe.

"Wannabe," she said softly. Alex stood up and gestured to the petrified bus driver. The man took heed and immediately sprinted off, the case of money dangling from his hand. Alex then pushed his hood back, revealing a short crop of brown hair.

"Wilson," he said bluntly to the old lady opposite him.

"Mercer," she grunted in reply, before shifting into Wilson's form once again. Alex crossed his arms.

"What are you really trying to get here, Wilson?" he asked. "Is it satisfaction? Thrill of the hunt?" Wilson shook his head.

"I didn't kill you the first time," he snarled. "I'm looking to rectify that." Alex shrugged.

"You know, there's no real reason for us to be fighting. You're more like us than you think." Wilson growled at this.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I have to act like it," he spat, his voice full of malice. "I'm not an unrepentant mass-murderer, Mercer." Alex shook his head.

"Maybe not you personally, but what about the people you work for? Randall, Cross, Taggart...I've seen everything they've done. If you call them anything except what you just called me, you're just as naive as you are short-sighted." At this, Wilson snapped. Roaring, he tore Dana's tentacles from his arm before charging at Alex. His hands twisted, reforming into serrated claws as he charged. Caught off-guard, Alex was impaled and driven through the bus wall. After a few feet, he regained his senses, driving his fist into Wilson's face. He stumbled, giving Alex time to tear the claws from his body, leaving large gashes in his chest. Hurling Wilson away, Alex looked at the black biomass dripping from the wound, even as it knitted itself back together.

"If a fight's that important to you, then I'll oblige!" he shouted, reforming his own arm into a giant blade and charging at him. Wilson braced himself, flexing his new saw-like claws.

"Bring it on, fucker!"