*A/N - Hey everyone! I apologize deeply for the delay on this chapter. I actually ended up scrapping what I had at first and rewriting the story. I think it paid off, and I hope you do too. Also, two things: First of all, as of January 18th, we hit the 1 year anniversary of my AU! *Balloons fall from the ceiling and noisemakers toot* Thanks to everyone who's enjoyed the story and given me feedback. I appreciate it all very much. And second, I have started streaming my writing sessions on Twitch. Come say hey sometime and keep it locked on my social media pages to find out when I'm live! Now without further ado or wait, I give you: Chapter 8!*

PRESENT

AMON

As Amon slipped in and out of consciousness, a muffled voice made it to his ears. "He put up a bigger fight than..."

Something had brought him into someone else's custody. He was on a hospital gurney, or he thought he was. He turned his eyes as much as he could to his right. Brushed steel rails fenced him in. He stirred, but was unable to shake himself into being alert. Instead he went limp.

"… hope the procedure works out…" Another voice, different from the one before, passed to his foggy head. Procedure? Amon repeated the word in his head, as if it would help him process the information better.

The first voice chimed in again, a few minutes later. "His heart rate's increasing." Through his unconscious fog, the faint touch of a hand gripped his forearm. He forced his eyes open and glanced as far over as he could with his head stuck in one place. Above him stood a man in a lab coat and surgical mask. His sunken eyes were fiery, full of determination: it was the kind of determination which made Amon worry. He tried to get his arms under him to push himself up. He was fully restrained. He did not budge. The doctor above him shoved Amon into the gurney, doing his best to suppress the struggling. "Keep still, Koutarou. There's no need to make this harder for yourself."

Amon continued to struggle, thrashing his shoulders and fighting the masked man's overpowering grip. He screamed, tried to tell them to let him go, but it came out as blends of sounds even he could not understand.

"Give him the anesthesia," the first man ordered the other. The second - out of Amon's sight - reached for a syringe, pulled off the sterile cap, and slid the needle into Amon's back. As the plunger squeezed the syringe's solution into Amon's bloodstream, his spine began to numb. After thirty seconds his whole torso lost feeling. He was totally conscious now and realized who the main person was. He had read a report on the man many times.

"Are we ready to begin?" The fiery-eyed man spoke to his subordinate. He wheeled Amon into an operation gallery. A blinding light shone down into Amon's eyes and he attempted to squint through the anesthetic.

The second person nodded. "Are you ready, Dr. Kanou?"

Kanou grinned through his face mask, glancing down to the incapacitated Amon. "I am. Let's begin." Kanou reached above himself and pulled a monitor into Amon's line of sight. It flickered to life, and on the screen was a full view of the investigator's restrained body, the doctor, and his assistant. Amon tried to look away, but the monitor filled his entire view. He could not escape watching himself get sliced apart.

Amon watched in horror as the deranged doctor raised a scalpel to the floodlight. After examining the edge, he brought it down to Amon's upper back and dug in. He dragged the blade deep through Amon's skin. His flesh gave way under the scalpel. He attempted to shift to relieve his discomfort. This must have been a way for Kanou to break down his victims. He would not let himself break. He clenched his eyes shut and focused on his breathing. The scalpel plunged into his flesh over, and over, and over again. Without seeing what was going on, it felt like Kanou was stabbing Amon for his own enjoyment rather than making precise incisions.

"Come now, young man." Kanou clenched Amon's head tight. Amon clenched his eyes shut tighter. "You need to be watching! The procedure won't be complete unless you see every detail." The doctor let go of the investigator's head, walked away, and returned to force Amon's eyelids apart, holding them wide open with surgical tape.

Amon knew he could not avoid seeing himself in that monitor, so instead of trying to look away he changed his mental focus. "I know who you are," he told the doctor. "The CCG has a full report on you, Akihiro Kanou."

The doctor hummed. "Is that so? And what did the reports say about me, Amon Koutarou?"

"They say you're a misguided freak who likes to play God." The young man's lip curled into a snarl. "Some theories even suggest you were the one who turned Ken Kaneki into a ghoul."

Kanou hummed again, a grin creeping onto his face. "Oh good, they haven't found out yet." He stepped out of the camera's view for a few seconds and returned with a peculiar looking organ in his latex-protected hand. After noticing Amon squinting and trying to focus on the hunk of flesh, Kanou brought it almost directly in front of the patient's face. "You may recognize this as a kakuhou. Lucky you, it's yours now. I won't imagine you getting used to it anytime soon, but I suppose that would be your problem."

The smell was overpowering. By no means was this kakuhou rotten or old, but the preservatives used on the organ had an intense odour. Based on where Kanou had cut into Amon, this was supposed to be an Ukaku – the fast, quick-draining type – The opposite of Amon's usual fighting style. "You're cruel to force this onto me, but to give me a kagune I'll barely be proficient with?"

"All the better to torture with." Kanou gestured with one hand to his assistant, who flicked on classical music and retrieved an eye dropper. "Are your eyes feeling dry, Koutarou?" To this, Amon had no response. If the doctor wanted anything to happen to his patient, he would make it happen himself. Kanou snapped his fingers, and his assistant rushed over to drop liquid on Amon's eyes. He felt the relief instantly, but did not dare make it obvious. He felt it would encourage the doctor to 'ration' the drops more.

"Dr. Kanou," Amon began with deep breaths, "do you really plan to turn me into a ghoul?"

"That is my plan, yes." Kanou grew a smile. "I do hope the procedure is a success. It would be a shame if you became a Floppy."

"A 'Floppy'?"

"Yes, essentially a failure. Seeing as you have never failed with anything else in your life, or so it would seem given your cocky attitude, I would hate for me to cause the first failure."

Kanou's words cut almost as deep as his scalpel. Amon always chastised himself for being a failure to begin with, so for Kanou to jab at Amon in this way was insulting. "You think you know me," he grunted.

"In the end, people are all the same. We all break one way or another. So even if I don't make you a failure, at least I can say I broke you."

Amon frowned. "You won't do it," he told the doctor.

"Yes, I think will." Kanou happily continued his work. He moved on to stitching the foreign organ into Amon's back. "I can only hope the blood vessels will maintain their connection after this is all through."

"And if they don't?" Amon was, admittedly, somewhat curious. As morbid as it was to be fascinated by an atrocity like this, it could help to know more for when he would return to the CCG.

Kanou chuckled. "Then you must live with a lump in your back for the rest of your life that does nothing good, nor bad."

"What if this does work?"

"You have a chance to become a one-eyed ghoul, like that Kaneki you mentioned." Kanou ran another stitch through Amon's limp muscles. "My finest work, that one. Truly miraculous."

So he did perform that operation… Amon considered potential motives, but came up with nothing, so he asked. "Why did you do that to Kaneki? Why are you doing this to me? It has to be for more than just pleasure or torture."

"To break the cage that is this world." Kanou spoke so nonchalantly, it was unnerving. Kanou stopped his explanation there. He may have thought it was enough. Amon just lay puzzled. He would deduce Kanou's meaning later.

"I'm surprised, Kotarou." Kanou spoke melodically as he continued his work, his thoughts and movements being driven by the music he listened to. "Most of my subject would be broken right now."

Amon, through gritted teeth, responded slowly and carefully, as if he was afraid he would trip on his words. "I am… not like your other… subjects."

The doctor grinned. "Oh, but what's that? Is your sanity betraying you? Are you starting to lose it after all?"

Amon had no reply. By this point, it would become more and more difficult to hide his true mindset. If this is how it should be, I guess I can't hold back. I'll show him I'm fighting.

"Oh, I knew I could break you in time," Kanou cheered. The pace of his hands quickened. He was eager to move on to whatever came next. At this point, Amon would be glad to move on. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure you're never the same."

"Even with the tumor," Amon remarked, "I'm already… pretty damn different."

"Yes, I suppose you are. But just you wait. The anesthetic is about to wear off. I thought I would give you a bit of relaxation before we venture into the storm."

Kanou had to be lying. He would not dare! Would he? And was that… irritation he felt every time the sewing needle pricked into him? Maybe he was telling the truth… "I can brave it."

The doctor snorted. "Are you sure? Many have thought so, but I get through to them eventually."

Kanou was not lying. The anesthetic was wearing off after all. If this kept up, Amon may actually have a reason to be worried. "What… made you so sadistic?" He asked, still attempting to hold onto himself.

"I would argue there's nothing wrong with me. After all, this world is corrupt." With the anesthetic nearly gone, Amon did not need the monitor directly in front of his face to tell when and where he was being stitched. "From the fact that you joined the CCG in the first, you must agree with me on that. In some sense, at least."

Amon knew Kanou had a point. He hated to admit it, but he did. "You really think you're fixing this world with what you're doing?"

"I don't think I'm fixing it," the doctor expressed. "I know I am. And if all goes well, you will be my crowning jewel. You may even surpass the progress Kaneki has made." He placed the last stitch into Amon's flesh and cut his thread. He hummed. "Magnificent…" Amon relaxed his tensed muscles. After the anesthetic wore off, he neglected to pay attention when his muscles locked up. The blood rushed back to his upper body. Something as little as getting responses from his nerves gave him more joy than he thought possible.

"I regret to do this, Kotarou, but I need to put you out for the time being. You've been a wonderful patient so far. Please bear with me while I finish up." Kanou gestured once more to his assistant. The person nodded and retrieved a face mask and slipped it over Amon's face. He faded back into unconsciousness.

Amon awoke in a cold sweat. He thrust himself up from his bed, panting heavily. As he looked around, it took him a moment to realize where he was. This was not his home. This was a hospital room. "What the hell…?" His back ached. He reached back to feel where the pain came from, and felt an abnormal lump between his shoulder blades. Where'd this come from?

In an instant, the memories from his recent operation came flooding back. He raised his hand to his shoulder blades again and felt an extra patch of grafted skin in the spot where the strange lump was. That did happen… Where am I now?

A knock came on Amon's door. He jumped violently. "Who is it?" he called out.

From behind the door, an old, gravelly voice spoke back. "I've come to help with your physical therapy."

Amon felt he could not object so he kept silent. The door opened, and behind it stood Dr. Kanou. "Hopefully you slept well," he said. Amon kept his mouth shut. The doctor stepped closer, holding something behind his back. The investigator tried to peer around his back to see what he had. The doctor turned away before his surprise could be revealed. He continued. "Before your transformation can be complete, we need to strengthen the pathways for your Rc Cells."

Amon sat still, his muscles tense to keep his trembling under control. He was indeed broken that night. It seemed almost too easy. As he sat in place, the doctor revealed what was behind his back. A pair of what looked to be grass clipping scissors, but with a magenta sheen. Quinque steel, Amon realized. He backed up on his mattress. Kanou grinned. "Don't be too scared, Kotarou. This will only hurt… a lot."

The investigator, once almost fearless, now more cowardly than he thought possible, shrunk into the wall behind him and curled into a ball. "Don't-" he spoke, his voice thick with anxiety. "You can't!"

"Can't I thought?" The doctor approached Amon carefully, making sure his kagune would not manifest itself too early. He opened the clippers and took a firm grasp of Amon's bare leg below the knee. The next moment, he clamped the blades down onto each other. Amon's leg split away from his body. He screamed in agony. "Oh, hush." The doctor had no remorse. He did the same action with Amon's other leg. Amon released another scream. Kanou shivered with delight. "Your screams may be throwing me off, but they're fantastic."

Amon cursed and roared all he could, his vocal chords quickly feeling raw. "You're a freak!" He screamed.

"If being a freak means changing the world, I'll be a freak." Kanou next moved on to each individual finger on Amon's hands, snipping them off one by one. They began to regenerate mere seconds later. "You've already shown spectacular regeneration capabilities. I am truly impressed." After the fingers were fully reformed, the doctor chopped off Amon's arms at the shoulders. All the while, Amon continued to scream and stare in terror at his own limbs, removed from his body. Not to mention the new ones that came in the old one's places.

Even with how scarred Amon was now, he held on to whatever sanity he could find in the recesses of his brain. His life, his successes, Akira. I'm sorry, Akira, he expressed to himself. He wished she could hear him.

From outside the room, a gunshot broke through the screams. A female voice shouted out. "Everyone on the ground! Commission of Counter-Ghoul business!"

A shout of anger came after the declaration, but was silenced half-way through. "Hostiles in the area, stay alert." The voice sounded familiar to Amon. It was feminine, but powerful and authoritative. He shouted out to the source of the voice. "Akira! I'm here!"

"Amon!?" She called back. "Third floor. Keep an eye out, but get up to him and move to assist."

Kanou cursed under his breath. "How did they find me…?" From under his draping lab coat he retrieved a pistol and cocked it.

"It's Kanou! He's armed!" Amon attempted to stand, but his legs were taking longer to come back than his fingers. He stayed put. Kanou rushed out of the room and aimed downward off what seemed to be a balcony. He fired three shots. A thump of someone hitting the ground.

Akira cursed. "Neutralize him now!" A few calls of confirmation from other officers. Kanou shouted out as a bullet planted itself in his leg. He knelt on the floor and clutched his bleeding leg. "Akihiro Kanou, you are under arrest by order of the CCG. You have the right to remain silent." One of the officers locked Kanou's hands into cuffs as Akira rushed into Amon's room. She froze at what sat in front of her. "Amon… Oh my…" She did not finish. She shook her head, her eyes bulging.

"Akira, I'm sorry… He did this to me."