Hey, what's up you guys? This is Flower1815 here, bringing you another update. Very important anouncement: This is the last already written chapter of the batch I worked on, which means that frequent updates will be on hiatus until later this year. Just giving you guys a heads up! I am working hard to finish the story and the next frequent update schedule will defnitely be the last batch of already written chapters since the story is coming to an end. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Thank you all so much for your support, I really appreciate it, and I'll see ya guys later! ;)

Tom blindly stumbled his way down the laboratory hallways, tears clogging his vision as he ran to his quarters. He was so overwhelmed with guilt and with the urge to get away and hide from the world as fast as possible, that he didn't even notice the faint trace of an unfamiliar scent in the air that came by this way not too long ago before him.

Reaching the safe confinement of his quarters, Tom heard the door slide shut behind him, panting. Every single muscle in his body was tense.

"She's gone… she's actually gone… and it's all my fault…" His voice was hoarse, as though he had swallowed tiny shards of glass.

"You killed her… ~" The voice taunted, looming over him triumphantly. "You didn't fulfil your promise and now that girl is dead because of you. You drove her to take her own life! ~"

I… I never meant for this to happen! Tom gasped and gulped feeling sick, dragging himself to the bathroom.

Tom took one good look at himself in the mirror, remembered Ella's horribly disfigured face which distorted even more after the bullet blew her brains out, and threw up into the toilet.

To his despair, the voice started laughing at him. "You worthless little vermin. ~" It hissed, phantom claws wandering all over his body. "Did you really think you could live with no repercussions? Haven't you learned by now that your very existence is destructive? Everything you do affects others in the worst possible way. You don't deserve to live. You don't deserve to be happy! ~"

I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Tom sobbed. Sinking to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees tucked close to his chest, and crying. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I never meant to make her suffer!

His eyes became round holes of horror as a pair of spectral claws held him down while another one reached up to his mouth, forcefully pried his jaw open and snipped his tongue off. Tom cried out in agony, blood welling up in his mouth.

"Sorry won't bring that poor girl back to life. Nothing you can say now will ever fix what you have done! ~" The voice jeered, stabbing him repeatedly with spears. "You are not a good person. All those people who died at your hands were meaningful and good, who would have amounted to worthwhile things. But they are all dead now, while you – an awful and pitiful excuse for a living being gets to live. ~"

Through the powerful waves of pain and anguish wracking through his body over and over again, Tom tried to clear his mind and reason with himself. The voice was only trying to get a rise out of him. Make him miserable and susceptible to its control. He knows this. The worse he feels the less control he has over his monster half. He's been over this many times.

I am not scared of you anymore!

"No? Well you should be. ~"

But no matter how much he struggled or tried to logic his way out of this, he just couldn't. No amount of reason will change the fact that he caused someone to commit suicide tonight.

"Was tonight proof enough for you to show that you have no business being alive? ~" The voice shook him roughly, piercing his skull with its claws. "Just do us all a favour and kill yourself already. Control over your body just isn't worth it at this point. I must admit even I can't stand this pathetic sob story anymore! ~"

Through his agonized torment, Tom failed to notice that his grasp on the pulse of energy inside him had slipped and his body was already undergoing the transformation process. His ears and horns sprouted from his head, and his fingers threatened to shred as the claws pierced their way out.

B-but… my sign? A vague distant memory of the frozen tree bathed in sunset lighting flickered blearily through his mind. The mere thought of it once gave him hope. But now there was nothing but dread.

"Your precious delusion was nothing more than a dumb tree covered in ice that just so happened to look pretty when the light hit it a certain way. ~" The voice said scathingly. "How pathetic! You were so desperate to find any justification for you to skip out on your promise that you immediately held on to the first pretty thing that made you feel worthwhile. Just like that damn fake boyfriend of yours. But none of it is real. Face it, worm; there's nothing but suffering for you if you remain alive. ~"

Tom sobbed into his hands. His stomach hurt and he had this horrible, prickling, tense feeling everywhere, as if he might erupt out of his own skin. He couldn't go through with what the voice was asking of him. He was heartbroken and sick to his stomach but even then that's not enough for him to be a man and do it. But he has to, doesn't he? All he could think about was the girl who killed herself, how much pain he must've put her through, and he could only apologize profusely to her and anyone else he might have ever harmed over and over again.

He clearly wasn't a good person. Why should he get to live when she and so many others don't?

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please. I just… I only wanted to live… I am so sorry for existing. I'm a horrible person. I'm sorry!

This horrible sensation stirring up his insides was unbearable. It hurts. It churned and weighed him down. If he could only muster the courage Tom would gladly stab himself with his own claws and pour out his insides all over the floor just to get rid of this awful feeling once and for all. It's what he deserves.

Shaking, he slowly positioned his sharp claws over his chest.

"Tom!"

Momentarily snapping back to reality, Tom looked up with a whimper to find Tord standing horrified over him.

Tom was still in the process of shifting; only half of his body had turned so far. His tail was curled around himself and he was hunched over in the corner of the bathroom trying to appear smaller than he actually is.

In truth he was physically unhurt yet, but the raw grief still gnawed away at his guts. The pain and guilt so intense he hardly recognised Tord. His mind hazy from loss of control.

But Tom couldn't bring himself to uncurl from his position on the bathroom floor and comply. He only wanted to disappear. "Go away!" He growled, his voice rough and scratchy. His consciousness barely hanging by a thread.

"I know you must be feeling terrible about what just happened out there." Tord approached, his hands reaching out for him. He needs to calm Tom down and diffuse the situation while he still can before Tom loses complete control over himself and does the unthinkable. "I get it! And I know you must be blaming yourself for it, but you have to believe me when I tell you that none of this was your fault!"

"How is it not my fault? I had everything to do with it!" Tom wailed. "I killed all her friends, disfigured her, ruined her life, and drove her to take her own life!" He paused, hunching his shoulders miserably. "What's the point of existing if I'm just going to make others suffer all the time?" He added more quietly to himself.

"Maybe so, but that doesn't change the fact that she still could have been saved." Tord went on. His head drooped. "That girl's death is not-"

"Ella." Tom cut him off with a broken sob. "Her name was Ella." He will never forget her name. He owes her that much at the very least.

Tord winced. "Ella's death was not your fault. It… it was mine."

His words stirred confusion in Tom, and for a brief moment the intense grief that threatened to swallow him whole was subdued by genuine bewilderment. How can this be Tord's fault?

Guessing Tom was waiting for him to elaborate, Tord went on. "I am the Red Leader. My primary role in this army is to make the best choices for my soldiers and ensure that our goals are achieved by any means necessary." He explained. "After the incident with the monster I should have made sure she was well off. That she had all the proper means to get her life back together and move on properly from the tragedy. But I failed her. In her final moments she directly addressed me, not you, Tom. I am the one she was upset with; and rightfully so."

Truth be told, perhaps Tord hadn't been in the greatest mind-set to lead the army as of late. He'd been placing all his attention solely on helping Tom and studying his monster half these past months. Tord genuinely thought he could handle his duties. That there wouldn't be any harm in placing his focus elsewhere from time to time and let Paul and Patrick deal with the army in his absence.

The Red Army doesn't need him to fuss over it constantly, after all. A well-run army runs itself. Tord figured he had everything under control. But once again he was wrong, and now Tom was paying for his mistakes yet again.

Patrick was right. I shouldn't have shirked off my duties freely like that. Even if I only meant good things for Tom, it only blew up on both our faces.

"So, please," Tord pleaded, kneeling before Tom. "Don't listen to the voice or blame yourself for this. The blame is all mine, and mine alone."

Tom almost winced at the pain in Tord's voice. Almost, but not quite. There was still ice festering his insides and spreading throughout his body with the weight of his guilt.

Still, numb with shock, he managed to gather what little strength he has left in his body to lower his claws, uncurl from his position, and crawl closer to Tord. Gradually regaining his full consciousness back Tom looked up at him, ears pricked, his sockets brimming with tears. He stared at Tord steadily, his ears twitching, until he managed to blink away the haze of grief from his empty eyes.

"Tom?" Tord's voice was gentle as he reached out for him.

Wordlessly, Tom took a pace forward and leaned into him, burying his face in the crook of Tord's neck. He didn't openly weep. Nor did he hug him. He couldn't bring himself to do much of anything at this point. Even breathing was a struggle.

He felt Tord's arms envelop him in a hug, and the Norwegian pressed his cheek against his. "Please don't ever feel the need to apologize for merely existing. Bad things happen but you shouldn't automatically take the blame." He murmured. "Life has been pretty harsh to you, and I wish I could apologize on behalf of everything and everyone who helped groom you to be this way today. But we'll get through this."

Tom felt his heart crack inside his chest.

For the longest time, the two of them just stood there on the bathroom floor in silence.

Tom so desperately wanted to recreate the soothing effect that Tord's mere presence and comfort had once brought him before; back in the laboratory when he had finally opened up about his situation to the Norwegian man and for once felt like he wasn't alone. He'd give anything to feel relieved of the burden of guilt on his shoulders.

But he couldn't.

Despite Tord's reassurance and comfort, Tom couldn't help but feel immense doubt. All his concerns and uncertainties over whether or not to trust Tord and join the Red Army had resurfaced to the forefront of his head. Ella's speech from when she held him at gunpoint was all he could think about. Her words spoke volumes. Was she saying the truth? And the way Tord coldly assessed the situation...

Could all of this really be just an act?

He wrapped his claws around the Norwegian man, hugging him tightly. Please… please don't deceive me. He silently implored. Tom doesn't want to face the likely possibility that Tord was manipulating him and everyone else foolish enough to join the organization to abide with his schemes. Tord betrayed him many times in the past. How is this any different? He would do just about anything to get what he wants.

No… Tord loves me. I know he does. He would never use me like this… right?

Tom wasn't so sure anymore.

(Meanwhile… )

Reagan didn't stick around the lab for long.

He knew that doll face's diversion would only keep Red and his lackeys busy for so long, so he had to be quick. With Paulie's key card Reagan had easy access to all the files regarding the monster serum project and so much more. He downloaded all the data into the phone he stole for this special occasion, and took pictures of the pages from the physical files. Reagan could steal the files, but he sensed that wouldn't be wise as Red would note their absence sooner or later and Reagan really couldn't afford to be found out.

Swiping one last essential item into his pocket, Reagan carefully sneaked his way out of the laboratory level.

By the time he got what he needed however, Red and freaky eyes were already down in the lab with him. He managed to avoid detection but not before he heard part of their conversation.

Doll face is dead. Apparently she shot herself.

Reagan felt nothing at the news. In fact, he wasn't even surprised. He couldn't say he would miss her. She fulfilled her purpose exactly as he had intended – she did what she set out to do and her worth was over. Their one night stand was nice, he will admit that. But she was of no significance to him other than a means to get what he wants.

She was a little tough to crack at first, but nothing Reagan couldn't handle. To guarantee her trust Reagan knew he had to have her be completely vulnerable first. Her trauma over the deaths of her friends could only do the job for so long, and her disfigured face scared most people away but it wouldn't have been enough. Sooner or later she would've found a way to move on… she would've made new friends and gotten over it. So Reagan had to act fast and make sure that didn't happen at all costs.

It was certainly very sneaky and quite brilliant of his part to exclude her from the rest of their comrades by spreading false rumours about doll face and the role she played in the dreadful event of the Border Patrol Massacre. How she cowered away and did absolutely nothing to save her comrades. How she got most of them killed in her attempts to save herself and leave them behind. How her comrades' deaths were all her fault. Throw in a little blackmail here and a little bribery there and the rest was history. No one in the base would want anything to do with her anymore, Reagan made damn sure of that. So that when he comes to her with an offer of companionship she would have no choice but to accept and trust him. And once people saw the two of them together, that was good enough to quickly turn everyone else's heads the other way.

He even went so far as to bribe the guy in charge for planning the weekly and daily duties to purposefully schedule doll face's squadron on a night patrol, knowing that would set her off and tighten his hold on her for good.

Truly ingenious of his part.

With precious cargo in his possession Reagan's next order of business is to leave the base, go as far away from here as he can, and find a safe and secure spot for him to assess his next move without anyone around to interfere with his plans.

He went to the hangar and blackmailed good ol' General Keaton, the head of communications and transportation division, to secure him a means to get him out without Red knowing about it. After Reagan discovered the General's involvement with some shady business involving the Army's supplier, the General agreed to abide with his wishes in return for his silence on the matter. Reagan was more than happy to comply, and on occasion rub salt in the cranky man's wound once in a while to remind him of the threat he posed to his precious reputation.

Now here he is; after several hours of bumpy traveling Reagan found himself back in England, in a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere, looking through his phone for all the files on the monster serum project he acquired.

It's nice to get away from it all and take a step back to have some time for himself every once in a while. Here, alone in this motel room, Reagan didn't need to play pretend. He didn't need to put on a mask and act a certain way to gain anybody's trust. Here he can be true to himself and not mind the repercussions. Here he can finally take a breather and relax. His life wasn't in any danger now.

"Risk of zombification… test subject failures… brain chemicals yadda yadda…" Reagan muttered to himself as he read the notes.

Most of the initial entries were boring scientific nonsense, warnings of potential outcomes, and formulas. Nothing of particular interest to Reagan up until he reached the section on the monster.

Finally. This is the part he was looking green eyes glittered in the dim room, with only his face illuminated by the phone's brightness as he read the contents of said file.

Two different forms – a transitioning stage and a full form with a massive size. Breathes fire. Sharp claws and teeth. Enhanced senses. Feats of great strength and speed. Indestructible – only two known weaknesses. A weapon of mass destruction and a bloodthirsty killer.

Sounds very promising so far.

Reagan flickered briefly toward the serum's section to read on its exact effects and how it works. Apparently it is a sentient substance mixed in with other chemicals that is then injected into the subject's bloodstream and uses them as a host in order to thrive. A parasite of sorts. It can manifest itself in monstrous ways depending on the subject's exact state of mind.

He stopped reading a little while after that, not bothered to go through any of the warnings and risks the serum posed. None of it mattered and was of little consequence to him.

Rummaging the pocket of his uniform Reagan pulled out the last item of interest he stole from Red's lab.

A needle filled with purple-black sludge.

When he saw the glass cabinet stocked full of these needles Reagan knew he had to take one. If it really is capable of all the great things doll face said then he definitely couldn't pass up the chance.

Reagan inspected the needle, turning it carefully in his hands as he contemplated. With a power like this… he would be unstoppable. The most powerful man in the world, and he didn't even need a dumb rank to make that happen.

His whole life Reagan had always been under someone else's thumb. Following orders, getting hurt over and over again, looking for approval, doing what he could to stay alive just so that one day he could make everyone who had ever done him wrong pay with their lives. Oh how he longed for that day to come. But he never could make that happen on his own. He is just a weak, helpless man who has a way with words.

No power whatsoever.

That's a good way to sum up his life.

Powerless.

He still heard them all the time, their voices in his head telling him how wretched he was. He tried to drown them out by concentrating on his life as a soldier for the Red Army, but the smallest thing could bring them crashing back in. Bringing forth a wave of memories of heavy rain and scornful laughter.

In the past, Reagan had often considered calling it quits and permanently get away from it all, and just... be at peace. The suffering simply wasn't worth it. If he was only here to suffer for someone else's benefit then he wants no part of it.

However, whenever he mulled over the option in the past it only served to fill him with even more hatred. He couldn't let his tormentors win. His death wouldn't have made a single dent on them. He needs to make them pay. Make everyone regret all the pain they inflicted him.

Everyone!

Red…

… his old gang…

… even his family.

No one will escape his wrath. Anyone who stood, and ever dares stand in his way, are all going to pay dearly. One by one they will all fall by his hands. Reagan is out for blood, and now with the help of this serum he won't be helpless ever again!

With his resolve strengthened, he plunged the needle into his veins and pushed the chemical in.

Reagan was shocked by how fast the serum worked. Almost at once he felt agonizing waves of heat and ice sweeping through him. His throat tightened and he choked, struggling to breathe as he fell to his knees, gripping his head. Darkness swirled around him, and he felt himself falling endlessly into oblivion.