Hey, what's up you guys? This is Flower1815 here with a new chapter of MLTS! Disclaimer: This chapter contains a lot of science talk in the second half and I am no expert on certain topics, so please read that going in. Not everything is going to be a hundred per cent accurate but I did my best to fit in with the themes of the story.

In other news, unus annus is over and I am both sad and satisfied with its end. It was a really cool idea and I am so happy I got to witness it. Memento mori.

But anyway I think that's it. Thank you guys so much for all the support you've shown me, leave a review telling me your thoughts, and I will see yah all later! ;)

By the time Edd and his friends reached the gates to Winchester Park the daylight had grown stronger, but the sunrise was hidden behind a mass of gray clouds. There was a spatter of rain in the wind. Weaving their way through the graves, the group paused on the rise of the slope by the weeping tree.

"Mark and I will go down this path, if you need us." Eduardo nodded the narrower trail to the left. "We meet up back at the gate?"

"Alright." Edd agreed. "Then how about we go back to my place and I make us all some pancakes? We can watch a movie later or something."

"Edd's pancakes are seriously the best! You guys are gonna love it!" Matt added with excitement, his blue eyes glowing at the thought of pancakes.

Eduardo snorted. "Oh really? Well, I'll be the judge of that." Edd narrowed his eyes at him with a twinge of annoyance at his arrogance, but did his best to brush it off. Even though they are friends now, it's still hard to get over their differences sometimes. "But sure, I'm down for pancakes."

"Great! We'll catch up to you guys later."

Edd led Matt down the slope and split up from the others, a bottle of Smirnoff in his hands while Matt carried a bouquet. It was a pretty huge coincidence that both groups' respective lost friends were buried in the same cemetery, but today they decided to visit them together as a way of moving on to a new chapter of their lives.

A weak steady drizzle started to fall by the time Edd and Matt approached Tom's grave. "Hey Tom!" Edd called out a small greeting as they drew close. He hadn't seen any apparitions of his dear friend since he was in the hotel room two days ago. Edd hoped that means he's on the right track now. "We still miss you, buddy. Every day. But we're doing good now!"

"Wherever you are, we hope that you have all the Smirnoff you can ever drink, and plenty of Christmases for you to destroy!" Matt dipped his head respectfully before placing the bouquet down.

Opening the bottle of Smirnoff, Edd took a sip of the drink, fresh grief piercing his heart. He passed the bottle over to Matt.

"Yuck!" The ginger cringed in disgust after taking a sip. "I will never understand how Tom could love such a bitter and disgusting beverage."

"Matt, it's just water." Edd droned. "I poured out the alcohol and replaced it with water. That's just water we're drinking."

Matt blinked. "Oh. Still…"

They made a moment of silence and just stood together, watching over their friend's grave as the wind buffeted against their forms. They pressed close to one another, shivering and offering quiet comfort. Edd put down the bottle on the foot of the slate and stepped back. They stood there for a couple of heartbeats at most, but to them it felt like an eternity.

"See you around, Tom." They spoke in unison.

"We'll be back to visit you soon." Edd added.

They turned away and started to head back the way they came, trekking along the trail and walking past the weeping tree. "Hey, Edd."

"Yes, Matt?"

"Do you think Tom is watching over us, wherever he is now?" Matt wondered, peering towards the gray sky as though he were actively looking for Tom.

Edd tipped his head. "I like to think that he is." Then a more uneasy thought followed. Is Tord watching over us, too? It was already hard to talk about the Norsk, though it eased now that he is finally finding the strength to move on, but the idea that his former friend was really gone for good was a whole 'nother ball game that he wasn't ready to deal with, yet.

They reached the graveyard's gates in no time; casually chatting about new movies coming out that the four of them could go and watch.

A tremor in his pocket stopped Edd in his tracks.

The streets were in view now, just beyond the gates, and cars roared by up and down. Matt scrambled to a halt and turned to him. "What's wrong?"

Fumbling with his pockets Edd pulled out his phone. His eyes rounded with shock at the notification.

(RF): Turn right.

(RF): Cross the street.

(RF): Walk five steps and turn left into the alleyway.

(RF): Don't tell ginger. Come alone.

Edd stared at his phone in complete bewilderment. What's he doing here? He wondered, recalling their conversation on the phone the day before. And why the cryptic instructions? He lifted his head and peered around the street, searching for where Reagan might be watching them at this exact moment.

"Wait here, Matt." He turned to his friend before leaving his side. "Something came up and I need to check it out real quick."

Matt's eyes darkened with worry. "Edd?"

"It's okay, you don't have to worry." Edd reassured him over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay? If the others come back before I return just tell them I'll be back soon."

"Please…"

Edd shook his head impatiently and crossed the street without another word, fully aware of his friend's gaze following his movements. Matt stayed put, a sense of foreboding creeping up on him and warning him that something was wrong. He watched his friend slip into an alleyway and disappear from view; to which he instantly whirled around and raced back into the graveyard, running as fast as his legs could carry him to fetch help in time.

"Reagan?" Edd called into the gloom as he padded farther into the dank alleyway. "I got your message! Matt's not with me – I came alone."

Suddenly hands wrapped around his shoulders and over his mouth as he gave out a startled yelp, and he was yanked into the shadows. Edd trashed furiously against the strong hold that dragged him backwards when he was spun around and shoved forward hard, making him stumble as he recovered his footing.

He whipped around indignantly. "Hey! What's the big idea-?"

Edd gasped, his words dying out on the tip of his tongue. Reagan was standing before him, looking worse for wear. His nose crooked and a deep purple, and his neck was bruised with an alarming red mark on his throat. Other than that, Reagan looked weary and tired.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? Did you get jumped on by muggers?"

"This-" Reagan sneered, "is what my boss did to me for trying to help you."

Edd felt an ominous sensation creeping up his skin, giving him goose bumps. What did Reagan mean?

Reagan looked at him pityingly; his bright green eyes dark with a menace Edd had only seen fixed on thugs. To be the focus of such ire now was alarming. "I returned to the base and presented your files to the system. I did everything right! But when the Red Leader saw your file, he went ballistic on me – nearly took my life!"

Red Leader? The title made Edd feel uneasy. "I don't understand. Why didn't say anything about this when you called me? You made it seem as though everything was fine!"

Reagan's eyebrows flicked up in surprise. "What call?"

"You called me yesterday to tell me I got rejected, and then you told me I wouldn't see you again until you "worked on yourself" or whatever that means!" Edd explained slightly exasperated. "Reagan, were you drunk?"

Throwing his head back with a cold harsh laugh, Reagan cackled. Edd's skin prickled with dread. This laugh was nothing like the usual laidback laughter the Irishman has. Suddenly, he rounded on Edd and cornered him.

"Oh, really?" Reagan drawled, eyes blazing with interest. "That's real unusual, Eddie. Because I don't remember making that call… or drinking, for that matter." He grinned. Things were slowly starting to make more sense.

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who else could it have been?" Edd asked, not liking the look in his friend's eyes.

Reagan hummed. "Clearly there's been a… misunderstanding." He tapped his hands together and grinned. "But it's okay, Eddie! We will just go up to Red Leader together and explain the situation, and then surely he will change his mind and let you in the Red Army!"

Edd hesitated. "B-but… but I don't want to join the Red Army anymore."

The following silence was deafening. Even with cars roaring by not far away Edd still felt as though the whole world had gone silent. Reagan's grin twitched and eventually morphed into a scowl. "What did you say?" He asked in a low, deadly tone.

A sick feeling of dread hollowed Edd's stomach and he gulped, choking down the bile rising in his throat and resisting the urge to vomit out of nervousness. His palms suddenly sweaty. "I changed my mind. I don't want to leave anymore." He repeated, struggling to make himself be heard over the loud pounding in his ears.

Reagan balled his hands into fists, visibly trembling from sheer rage alone. "Eddie…" He uttered with a low chuckle. "I did not go through all the effort of befriending you just for you to quit on me. What a giant waste of my time this was."

Not understanding what he was talking about, Edd backed away. "What do you want?"

Reagan stalked closer. "What do I want? I want to be safe, Eddie. I want the certainty that no one is going to use me the way that I use you, for example. Getting constantly backstabbed, turn to filth and unknowingly help others reach higher while they leave me behind in the dirt to be stepped over and over again." A sneer curled his lip. "The only way that can ever happen is if I reach a high position of power – where no one can take advantage of me ever again! And the only way to do that is to get pathetic fools like you to trust me long enough for me to reach the next ledge to climb over."

"What?" Edd couldn't believe his ears. His heart broke inside his chest.

"Oh you were so easy to fool!" The Irishman snickered. "So desperate to get over your friend's death that you made yourself susceptible to the first person who offered you some comfort from the pain. All I needed to do was to appear friendly long enough for you to grow attached to me, and from there you blindly believed my words. Talk about desperate!"

Hurt by his words, Edd took a step back and felt his back hit the wall as Reagan stepped closer to trap him. He no longer felt safe in this man's presence. "Leave me alone!" Edd snapped, trying to conceal the fear that was trickling like ice-melt down his spine.

"Leave you alone?" Reagan echoed with a hint of a snarl. "How do you expect me to do that when all you wanted all along was to keep me close and replace your dead friend?"

"Huh?"

"You were just as bad as I was! You never actually cared about me – the real me, anyway." Reagan continued. "You just wanted to "be my friend" so you can get over your grief, but the moment you start to feel better you would have cast me aside just like everybody else does! I've been in this game long enough to know – don't deny it, Eddie!"

Edd was at a loss for words. With a horrible sinking feeling of guilt he realized that what Reagan was saying was partially true. He did put up with him at his worst just to avoid feeling the way he did over Tom's death. He did everything he could to please Reagan and keep him comfortable just so he wouldn't lose his only safety net. Still, he had grown a genuine deep bond with the Irishman that he thought was mutual.

But he was wrong.

"I do care for you, Reagan!" Edd urged. "We are… we are friends! I had no idea you felt so insecure about any of this. I didn't mean to take advantage of you in any way. Had I known of course I would've tried to find a way to help you throu-"

A hand slammed against the wall beside his head. "Shut up!" Reagan snarled. "Don't get me wrong, Eddie. I am a little flattered you fought so hard for me, but I seriously couldn't give less than a sh#t about this though." He stared down into his eyes. "I have questions for you."

Edd swallowed nervously, staring at him in dismay. How had he never noticed the malicious intent glowing so prominently in his eyes? Because I see him for who he really is, now. His mind instantly answered. Matt and Eduardo were right to doubt him all along, and he was a fool to trust Reagan over them.

"As I was saying; for some stupid f#cking reason you got rejected! And I was to blame for it all somehow! And to top it all off, I got demoted for trying to help you!" Reagan barked out a strangled laugh but his expression contorted back to anger, his green eyes blazing as he glared down at Edd. "After everything I've done for you – everything we did to prove your worth in joining us, Red Leader still had the gall to turn us down! Guess it doesn't really matter now, huh?" He clenched his hands into fists. "But now the question left unanswered is why. Why did Red Leader refuse to let you in?"

"How should I know?" Edd exclaimed indignantly. The fear he once felt being replaced with resentment, underlined with a familiar feeling he felt only once before. It was a sad emotion Edd does not like to recall on. Betrayal.

At his protest, Reagan smirked. "Simple. Red Leader isn't above manipulation to get what he wants; so why should he care if I did the same to recruit more members for his army?" He pointed out, stepping back to pace to and fro. "But no! He was furious – absolutely livid with me when I showed him your recruit file. This leads me to suspect that he has some sort of connection to you."

"What?!"

"It's the only logical explanation. Red Leader wouldn't care otherwise!" Reagan insisted. He opened one side of his uniform and fished out a gun from his inner pocket. Edd's blood ran cold, immediately stiffening with fear at the sight of the fire weapon. "And you are going to tell me what it is right now, or no more cola for you ever again." Loading the gun he aimed it for Edd's head.

"I don't know what you are talking about!" Edd cried out insistently. "I don't know who this Red Leader guy is- I never even heard of him!"

Reagan tutted. "Oh Eddie, how I wish I could believe you." He slowly lifts his finger toward the trigger. "But I don't. You brought me enough trouble as it is, so cut the cr#p and spit it out already! What's your connection with the Red Leader?"

"I really don't know-!"

Right at that moment, a brick flew through the air and pummelled against Reagan's face. The Irishman was stunned by the blow and he fell over backwards, the gun flying from his grip. He groaned in pain and clutched his head with a hiss.

"Edd!"

Recovering his initial shock of what just took place, Edd glanced over his shoulder. Relief surged through him when he saw his friends step into the alleyway and rush over to him.

Matt immediately enveloped him in a crushing hug, burying his tear-stained face into the crook of Edd's neck. Edd smiled and returned the hug, quietly reassuring him that he was okay. Mark appeared beside him, checking him for any injuries and leading them away from danger. And last but not least, Eduardo took a protective stance in front of them. His glare fixed on Reagan with undisguised hatred, and his arms trembling with fury. "I'll take care of this clown!"

Reagan chuckled, slowly picking himself off the ground and staggering to his feet while dusting himself. "Well well well, nice going with the brick, hot stuff. Didn't see that one coming! I'm kind of impressed actually." He smirked, licking the blood trickling down the side of his face. "And ginger, too! So good to see you again. And…" He paused as his gaze landed on Mark. "You're new. I think I'm gonna call you butt chin!"

Mark crossed his arms and glared at him with an offended huff.

"Tell me when and why you first got close to Edd!" Eduardo demanded with a growl. "What were your motives then and why have they changed now?"

Reagan stepped back, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh? Weren't you guys rivals-?"

"It doesn't matter what we were before. Unlike you, I really am his friend!" Eduardo snarls, stalking closer to the Irishman.

Reagan cocked his head to one side. "His friend, eh?" He doubled over and started to laugh hysterically. "Oh sure! I am certain that your friendship is genuine and not in any way based on some form of self-interest at all. He wants you to replace his dead friend, and you want him for some hidden agenda you got going on. Who is using who here, I wonder?" He continued to cackle, pausing briefly only to wipe a stray tear from his eyes. Edd could've sworn he saw Eduardo wince at his words for a split second. "And they say I'm the manipulator here."

"That isn't true!" From the side-lines of the confrontation, Edd protested. "Eduardo may have started out as a jerk, and a stupid-head, and a dumb bully-"

"Oi! I'm the one defending you here, loser!"

"But he helped me out when I needed most!" Edd continued. "To be completely honest, I never would've imagined we could ever consider each other friends. We hated each other's guts so much in the past. But now, here we are." He shifted his gaze away, his tone softening. "Even when, I was a big jerk in the beginning. People tried to help me and I just kept pushing everyone away with insults and being needlessly angry all the time." He looked back and forth between Matt, Mark, and Eduardo. "I'm really glad you guys didn't give up on me despite everything."

Matt scoffed. "And let you leave with that doofus? Not a chance!" He tightened his hug on Edd, nearly crushing him.

"Yeah yeah, as touching as this moment is between you suckers, I'm getting kind of bored here." Reagan stepped in, an air of annoyance to him as he yawned exaggeratingly loud. "I'm thinking about heading to a bar later. Heard there were discounts on Fridays."

"Oh no, you don't!" Eduardo snaps. He stomps over to the Irishman and grabs him by the collar of his uniform, lifting him off the ground. "You're not going anywhere until you give us some answers! What were you after? Who do you work for? What did you want with Edd in the first place?"

Rather than getting the desired effect of having Reagan cowering at his rage, pleading to let go of his sorry ass, Eduardo was bewildered by the reaction he got instead. Reagan was chuckling, and grinning wildly. Not the least bit intimidated by him.

"It's so pathetic to watch you try so desperately to be something that you're not." Reagan giggled knowingly. "You keep pretending that you're so strong and tough, even when everyone else around you already knows what's going on with you."

"Huh?"

"You never got over the death of your friend. Not entirely, anyway."

Like a sharp blade, Reagan's words cut through the air and stilled everyone into silence. Edd's breath hitched in his throat. Beside him, Matt looked anxious and scared but tried his best to swallow down his growing worries to appear brave. Mark tensed, watching the scene unfold with a cold, calculating gaze that betrayed the underlined worry he felt for his companion.

Eduardo had stiffened, nearly loosening his grip on Reagan as he stared back at the Irishman with wide eyes. His jaws clenched so hard his teeth felt like they would shatter under pressure.

"What was his name again? Jon was it?" Reagan continued, vividly amused by the sheer anger he found staring back at him. Especially when Eduardo's face would contort with even more unbridled fury, with a tiny hint of confusion as well. "Eddie told me everything about you during our outings together. Every. Single. Detail." He punctuated each word in a sing-song like tune.

Edd felt a cold icy stone drop into the pit of his stomach, and his insides twisted painfully. He stared at Reagan with wide eyes, immediately regretting ever putting his trust in him. Edd lowers his gaze onto Eduardo, who still remained frozen on the spot. A stab of sympathy pierced through him, and he wished he could take back everything he ever said to Reagan.

"He told me how you would constantly pick on the poor fellow, bullying and threatening him every chance you got." Reagan went on with his relentless jeering, noticing that the hold on him began trembling ever so slightly. "His death was sure a real shame. He never really had a chance to stand up to you and leave to find happiness elsewhere. But I guess in the end his death could be considered an ultimate act of mercy, considering he doesn't have to put up with you anymore."

"Eduardo, do not let his words get to you! He's only trying to distract you!" Mark left Edd's side to stand by his friend, narrowing his eyes indignantly at Reagan.

"I may not have known the guy, but just thinking about it makes me upset. He never even got a chance to realize for himself just how toxic you truly were." Not letting up in his taunting, Reagan went a step further. "No. I shouldn't think like that. I like to believe that maybe he did know you were a bully, and was just silently putting up with you while planning on standing up to you at last. Too bad that never came to be." Reagan had to bite down on his own lips to suppress the grin that threatened to stretch across his face, as he watched Eduardo's broken expression. "But hey, at least he is finally free of you. After everything you've done to him, you don't have the right to feel grief or mourn him! How can you be so selfish to want him back after everything you put him through?"

The effect of his words, although brought great anger within Eduardo, also tore him apart. After all his efforts into getting over his trauma and grief of losing Jon, Reagan, the slimy roach, managed to crawl into his skin and re-open old wounds and worsen them in one fell swoop.

His strength ebbing away, Eduardo unknowingly let go of Reagan and set him back on the ground, his gaze clouded and dull.

Reagan smirked triumphantly. Edd watched the entire scene with dread, and tears clouding his vision. He observed Reagan reach into his coat's pocket, and was only able to catch a glimpse of something gleaming menacingly.

With a start, Edd realized what it was. "Eduardo, look out-!"

His warning came in too late. In the speed of a heartbeat, Reagan drew out his blade and surged forward to stab Eduardo in the gut.

Mark immediately reached out for him. "Eduardo!"

Clutching his wound, Eduardo fell to his knees with a grunt. Blood began to pool around the area where the blade was still plunged deep, and the dark crimson liquid stained his green shirt.

"I wonder, what's more painful to you as of this moment?" Reagan leaned closer to whisper in his ear, grinning with wicked glee as he twisted the blade deeper. "The knife to your gut, or remembering that pathetic dead friend of yours?" He roughly took back his blade and watched the burly brunet crumble before his feet.

Hissing in pain, Eduardo pressed his wound hard to stop the bleeding and glared at the Irishman. Mark kneeled at his side to try and help him.

Reagan gave a snort of contempt and ignored them. "See what happens when you involve others into your problems, ginger?" He waved the bloody blade in his hands mockingly, fixing his gaze on Matt. "You get them needlessly hurt… just so you won't have to get hurt yourself. Coward, as well as selfish, it seems."

Trembling, Matt tried to step in front of Edd to guard him from Reagan, but his friend put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back instead.

"Enough, Reagan. Whatever you want with me, leave them out of this." Edd blurted, desperate to keep his friends from getting further injured. His eyes glistened. "I- I really don't understand, though. Why are you doing this? Did nothing we've been through together had any impact on you? Were you really just using me for your own gain? All the talks in the bar, the drinks we shared, and the personal stuff we confessed – nothing whatsoever was the least bit meaningful to you?"

Reagan's eyes narrowed. His jaw worked silently for a long moment as he regarded the Brit, as though he was grinding his teeth.

"I like you, Eddie." He managed to force out. "But you're not worth a lifetime of worthlessness and servitude to others. It's nothing personal, really; I need to rise above everyone else in order to get a safe position. But I can't do that if I am at rock bottom! Because of you, I won't get where I need to be sooner."

"What do you mean? You're not making any sense, Reagan!" Edd sounded puzzled.

"Look around you, Eddie! You're surrounded by lies and hatred and things that should never have happened." Reagan snarled, then turned his head away and thought for another moment. "Everyone is out to get you. No one is really your friend. We all have motives for the things we do, and that includes relationships. Once you've served your purpose in someone's agenda, they will discard you. Simple as that. But no one really cares about you! If you don't use others, you're gonna get used yourself, and see how long you'll last just being a mere pawn." He took a deep breath. "Be wary of everyone's intentions, or be played for a fool. If there's one thing that I can teach you, Eddie; let it be that."

Terror and dismay burst through Edd and he pressed closer to Matt for support. Who knew Reagan had such an awful and twisted way of thinking?

"So you manipulate others out of fear of being manipulated yourself?" Mark growled incredulously from beside Eduardo.

Reagan glanced back at him with a dark chuckle. "I'm not afraid." He said slowly, his green eyes wild and distant. "I just know how the game works, and unfortunately for the four of you, I am an excellent player."

"You're insane!" Matt cried out. "A monster!"

Turning his head sharply toward him, Reagan's eyes blazed. "Rude! Now that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" He echoed, taking a menacing step closer. Edd and Matt backed away together. "Tell me, ginger; am I a monster for looking out for myself and my own needs? For wanting a better life for myself? At least I am self-aware! You don't have any idea of what it's like to be stepped over by everyone you know-"

"F-Foley."

Reagan froze. Edd's eyes widened. A dreadful silence filled the alleyway save for the cars roaring down the street.

"What-" Reagan clenched his fists, twitching, and jerked his head back with a baleful gaze, speaking through gritted teeth, "did you just call me?"

Eduardo stared up at him from the ground, still pressing his bleeding wound with Mark's help. "Foley." He repeated knowingly. "Reagan Fitz Foley. That's your real name."

Gaining his full attention, Reagan turned fully to face the injured brunet. His gaze narrowed to deadly slits, but his bewilderment was still visible. "How did you-?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"You're not the only one with all the knowledge, #sshole." Eduardo smirked.

Edd, Matt, and Mark looked back and forth intently between the two; shocked and curious as to what's about to unfold at this very moment. The tension in the air thickened even more, if that were possible. Edd felt full of holes, all the way through his bones. He feared for Eduardo, recalling what happened the last time someone referred to Reagan by the dreadful name. But the Irishman was still as a statue and merely regarded Eduardo as he carried on.

"Born on the 31st of October of 1991, you grew up in a small farm In Northern Ireland. You went missing in 1998, after you failed to return home from picking up groceries in town." Eduardo spoke softly, clearly straining with the effort to speak, but his intensity pierced through the tension. "You somehow ended up in Britain and joined a criminal organization, where you took part in several crimes for thirteen years before you were found dead by the docks – presumably shot dead by rival gangs. Or at least, that's what you made it seem like it. I thought you were using a fake identity at first, but now I am certain you just faked your death instead. You wouldn't react so shocked if this wasn't your name, plus you seem pretty pissed about it."

Pissed was an understatement. The look Reagan was fixing him was incredulous and glittered with a hatred he had ever shown to the thugs he and Edd fought, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Missing?!" Reagan attempted to scoff, but sounded more like an incredulous choked shrill of disbelief. "That's their lame cover-up excuse?"

His words caught all of them off guard.

"What the h#ll is that supposed to mean?" Eduardo questioned angrily.

"Well, wouldn't you like to know, hot stuff?" Reagan teased, but his posture was still rigid with fury and his grin was somewhat forced, clearly not in the mood to be his usual sly self.

"But then if you didn't go missing, what happened to you then?" Matt wondered out loud.

Silence followed his question. Reagan remained still for a long moment, his eyes shifting ever so slightly, and then slowly, like a mountain crumbling, he lowered his head and stared at the ground with no expression on his face.

Edd seized his opportunity. He paced forward until he stood right behind the Irishman. Behind him, he heard Matt hiss, "Be careful, Edd!"

But this was no time to be careful. Edd sensed a shift within Reagan. Something they said must've triggered a memory from his past and now Reagan was exposed. Now was his chance! His heart broke for him, and a new understanding of the deceptive Irishman he thought he knew and befriended dawned on him.

"Reagan… I don't know what happened to you, but I am so sorry for whatever you've been through." He began softly, reaching a gentle hand out toward him. "But you don't have to do this – you don't have to live in fear! I can help you. I am your friend. Just tell me what you need, and I will do my best to-"

He stopped as Reagan cackled an insane cold laughter. "Nice try, Eddie. But I am not looking for a fantasy, I'm afraid." He whipped around, grinning like mad. Alarmed, Edd backed away but was stopped by a hand to his throat.

"Stop! Please!" Matt begged. "Put him down and just leave us alone. Haven't you hurt us enough?"

"Never!" Reagan retorted. "Not while Eddie here still has some usefulness left in him."

He lifted Edd off the ground by his throat. Edd scrabbled desperately against the grip on his neck to release him. He stared into Reagan's eyes, dismayed to find no hint of compassion whatsoever left in him.

"I don't want your f#cking pity! I want answers so that I may get my revenge on the dipsh#t that took advantage of me. Don't you get it? I don't care about you! I never did! Are you still on the delusional idea that I have some semblance of empathy in me? Look at me, Eddie; I am living, breathing proof of the worst of humanity." Reagan roared to his face before laughing. "You sure are hung up on keeping friends close and enemies closer, huh? I don't even know why you pretend to care anymore. I am not some sick little puppy for you to look after. I am not pathetic enough to believe you genuinely care for me! Why would you? No one wants me the way I am! You're just using me for your own benefit like everyone else does."

"I was never using you!" Edd insisted. "That's just what you are determined to believe because you've probably been hurt so many times. I get it! But I did care for you... I just can't say the same now."

Reagan stared up at him, eyes wide, and for the first time Edd caught a glimpse of uncertainty flickering across his face.

"Put him down, now."

Both of them looked away in surprise to find Matt, holding the gun Reagan had previously held up to Edd, trembling and aiming at the Irishman. His blue eyes wide and glistening.

Reagan frowned with a small snort of amusement, clearly not the least bit intimidated. "Put that gun away, ginger. You're posing more of a threat to Eddie than I am right now." He cautioned matter of factly. "Besides, you don't have the guts to shoot me. Have you ever been in a fight? Let alone killed someone? It's quite a thrilling experience, I must say, but you don't seem like the type of guy who'd take enjoyment out of th-"

Sneaking up behind him, Mark slammed an empty glass bottle he found lying around on top of Reagan's head; prompting him to let go of Edd who dropped to the ground with a hand to his aching neck.

Reagan staggered back, turning to Matt and Mark with insolent green eyes. "Why you…"

"Enough, Reagan. You're outnumbered." Edd quickly recomposed himself to stand between his friends. He gathered his courage and stared Reagan down with no emotion on his face. The bitter shock of betrayal still pulsed strongly, but he choked it down to not give Reagan the satisfaction to see him crumble. "Just turn away now and leave us alone. Don't ever come back, you hear me? I don't want to see you anymore." He demanded, his voice on the brink of cracking from grief.

Reagan was silent as they stood back and allowed him to take a couple steps back. He stood before them, his eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim lighting. "I cannot make that promise." He hissed.

Edd didn't flinch. "Then I won't be as kind, if you return and threaten me and my friends." Every word seemed to be dragged out of him.

They stared silently at each other for a long time. At last, Reagan drew himself up to his full height, his eyes blazing in cold fury and a wide sly grin spreading across his face. "Fine, I'll leave. But this is far from over." His voice was soft and menacing. "I don't know for certain what your connection to Red Leader is yet, Eddie; but I'm going to make him pay for what he did to me… and I'll bring his head to you to show off my handy good work."

"Just go!" Edd yelled.

Reagan spat at the ground, then turned and walked away, disappearing into darkness.

Edd felt bone-weary from his head all the way down to his feet, and for a moment he swayed where he stood.

"Eduardo?"

He turned around. Mark had left his side to try and help Eduardo to his feet. Barely conscious, he half opened his eyes and groaned with pain. Matt joined them a heartbeat later, eyes filled with concern.

"Please don't die, Edu." He whispered softly, on the verge of tears.

Eduardo cracked a smirk. "I've had way worse than this, doofus." He tried to reassure. His voice was blurred with exhaustion. "I'll be just… fine."

"He's lost too much blood." Mark looked him over. "We need to get him to a doctor, quickly."

"I'll help." Edd instantly offered, taking a pace forward to nudge one of Eduardo's arms over his shoulder. Together, he and Mark half supported half carried Eduardo out of the alleyway with Matt pacing nervously around them, still holding on to Reagan's gun as though afraid the Irishman would return.

"Hey, if it's any consolation I'm sorry about Reagan." Mark whispered over to Edd. "He may not have been any good, but I can tell he still meant something to you."

Edd shrugged, emotion thickening his voice. "It's okay. I guess that's just what I get for being such a trusting idiot." He bowed his head, voice shaking. "You guys warned me about him, but I didn't – I couldn't believe it. I trusted him, and I was wrong. Now Eduardo is hurt because of me!"

"It's a hard lesson to learn, I'm afraid." Mark murmured. "I understand you want to see the good in everybody and try to help others, but you can't save everyone… especially if they don't wish to be helped."

Edd stared off into the distance as they emerged onto the streets, looking for any signs of Reagan lurking about. "Yeah, I know." He sighed, his heart weighing a ton inside his chest.

(Meanwhile…)

"A voice?"

Tord's voice reverberated throughout the lab.

Seated on the edge of the operating table, Tom fixed his gaze down at his feet anxiously while his hands fidgeted with each other. Several little plugs were attached to his head and hooked him up to a strange machine that, according to Tord, would monitor his brain activity and look for different frequencies in his head. After he told Paul and Pat the truth about the voice, the soldiers convinced him to tell Tord about it as well. So now, here they are. The four of them, back in the laboratory, discussing how messed up Tom truly is and trying to figure out what this means.

Tom was hesitant to look at Tord as he spoke; afraid of his reaction. So far he seems rather shocked, much like Paul and Pat first reacted, but he remained cool and collected as he asked him questions regarding this strange condition.

For his part, Tord was absolutely puzzled by the revelation and his mind was working at a million miles per hour, already coming up with theories as to what this is and how it came about. He sure loved a good enigma for him to decipher, but this was a lot more personal. He stared intently at Tom, scratching his own chin pensively.

Tom hesitated. He glanced back at the soldiers standing next to him for reassurance.

Paul and Pat gave him a thumbs up and nodded encouragingly.

"The voice is just that – a voice. It doesn't have a form. I can't see it. Only hear and feel it. The voice also has no gender, as far as I can tell. It is androgynous." Tom felt hot as he continued. "It doesn't talk all the time, either. It only shows up at random intervals; mostly when it is most convenient to make a comment, I guess. I can tell it is active when my vision goes slightly darker, and I get a prickly feeling on the back of my neck as though someone were standing right behind me." He waited for Tord to comment but he just watched him with blatant fascination. "It's like being in two conversations at once." He went on. "Through one eye, I am here talking to the three of you. Through the other eye… I am in the dark talking to it."

"Is it talking to you right now?" Tord inquired.

"You big miserable f#ck! I will end you myself – you're just making things worse, just as you've always have. ~" The voice shrieked at him, slashing mercilessly away at his throat and face; blinding him in his own blood. "Trust them and you will pave your future in nothing but misery, and you're gonna regret ever existing! ~"

"Yes." Tom replied.

"What is it saying?"

Rather than answering, Tom took a deep breath and shifted awkwardly; his hands still fidgeting.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I understand this may be hard for you to discuss." Tord apologized softly, taking note of his discomfort. "But we need to know what we're dealing with here in order to help you, okay?"

Tom glanced at him briefly and nodded.

"Well… it is really mad at me. Its angry that I broke my promise and I am telling you guys everything about it." He confessed. "Talking about my condition, no matter how much others may already know, goes against the rules."

"Rules?" Tord echoed.

Tom bowed his head. "Yes. My promise was to die, and never let anyone know what is wrong with me. Telling others would mean being stopped or…" He paused, sadness welling up inside his throat and making it harder for him to speak. "Or causing unnecessary problems people can't resolve."

Tord frowned. "Why do you listen to it?"

"How can I not? It fills my head and is super loud and aggressive, and it hurts me in so many ways!"

"Is the voice hurting you right now?"

Tom stared at him unable to answer. He was bleeding so much – his clothes were drenched in crimson and torn apart, sitting alone in darkness with various spears and blades embedded into him and surrounded by a pool of his own blood as he gasped for air with his shredded throat. Tom wasn't fazed by all the blood anymore. He grimly recalled the first few occurrences, how desperate and afraid he was, and how he couldn't understand why his friends failed to see all the blood and wounds inflicted on him. That was before the voice taught him to conceal his pain from others and learn to keep his mouth shut about it.

"It is."

Tord blinked at him in dismay, wishing he could do more to help him.

"You're never going to see me actively chatting with it, nor the pain I'm being put through." Tom's shoulders sagged and he scratched his arms self-consciously. "I'm fine. It's not that big a deal, anyway. I'm already used to it-"

"Stop."

A robotic hand reached out and clasped Tom's wrist to stop him from picking at his scars. Tom stiffened at the unexpected touch. God, his metal hand was cold – but at the same time he was taken aback by how gentle it was. It felt strangely comforting, all things considered.

Tord eased his grip and sighed. "Don't try to normalize this, Thomas. You shouldn't have to get used to it." He murmured, trying to catch Tom's eye.

"Well, I have to cope with it somehow." Tom grumbled sheepishly.

Before Tord could ask more questions, a soft chime from one of his machines attracted his attention. He excused himself and moved away from Tom to investigate. As he did so, he looked back at Tom expectantly and shot him a small smile, hoping the Brit would look back at him and be reassured that everything was going to be fine. But Tom was looking at his feet, obviously still uncomfortable with the conversation to maintain eye contact with him. Frowning, Tord glanced over to his deputies for support.

Paul shrugged, and Pat was shaking his head with a stern stare; as if to say "you're gonna need more than that to get him to trust you."

Trying not to show so much as a flicker of disappointment, Tord approached the machine that was printing out continuous amounts of data straight from Tom's brain. He grabbed a portion of papers and scrutinized them for clues. Tom may look calm, but he sure is thinking about lots of things. He thought, looking at a clear gamma level pattern of brainwaves; frequent and erratic. But how much of these waves are actually Tom's thoughts and work of the voice in his head?

He put the data aside and let the machine continue as he returned back to Tom.

"So when did you first start hearing this voice?" Tord asked.

"I don't know. It used to be pretty quiet the first few times I "heard" it. More like felt it, actually." Tom sighed. "It's hard to explain, but it felt more like how intrusive thoughts work. When you accidentally think of something kinda messed up when you don't really mean it. The voice used to have a low volume, whispering things and making its words sound as though they were my own thoughts. But over time it grew stronger and louder, and gained enough power to make it seem more physical to me. If I had to pinpoint when it first started, I would say about ten years ago, maybe?"

Around the same time he was given the serum. Tord made a mental note of that. "What kind of things does it say to you?"

Tom stiffened. Oh great, how can I answer that without alarming everybody?

"How about you stop right there and give in to me instead, worm? ~" The voice snarled.

Not gonna happen. He retorted through the wave of pain intensifying in his skull.

"Uhh…" Tom hesitated, scratching the back of his head. He cleared his throat and worked to make his voice seem light as he casually replied, "nothing too special. Just how I am a giant mistake that should've never been born, and how I am constantly bothering others and making people suffer on a regular basis, and that I should die to make up for it-"He trailed off when he noticed the appalled faces surrounding him. "What?"

"Yikes!" Paul grimaced. "How are you being so calm about this?"

I don't want to worry you. Tom shrugged, choking down the sadness that usually accompanies the awful statements welling up in the pit of his stomach. "It's not that big a deal." He argued self-consciously, trying to slip into the 'no really, I'm fine, don't worry about me' mode that had become so familiar to him in the past decade. "I'm fine, really-"

"You are not fine!" Tord rebuked, his hands unintentionally balling into fists. "Nothing about this is fine, Thomas. If you don't want to talk about it then say so. Don't lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren't."

Patrick cleared his throat rather loudly, drawing Tord's attention and subtly reminding him to control his temper. The Norsk frowned, but kept himself in check. "I'm sorry." He doesn't want to give Tom more of a reason to despise him. He wants to help him.

"You are worth for nothing, Tom." His hateful words from several days ago, derived from frustration and rage came back full force. "All I want from you… is my monster. That's all you're good to me for." Tord winced as he recalled his own actions towards the eyeless man. He's been so needlessly mean to Tom for way more than just a decade, and he certainly contributed to his current mental state. Shame scorched through him. How can he ever make it up to Tom when he messed up so badly?

"So this voice convinced you that dying was your only option?" Tord continued.

"I guess." Tom mumbled.

"Oh, is it saying anything about us?" Paul prompted curiously.

"When they inevitably betray you, I want you to think back to this exact moment when you sealed your own doom. ~" The voice screeched, still hacking away at him. "You idiot. Look at them – they already think you're messed up and can't wait to get rid of you. ~"

"It is not really that interested in talking about others. The voice is mostly concerned about how I am affecting everyone, and how I shouldn't say anything or I would make matters worse." Tom half lied. Even though he was putting his trust in them with his condition there's no way he will outright confess the suspicions he has of them. "It's angrier at me for speaking, than mad at you for trying to intervene."

"Intervene, you say?" Tord repeated, his gears turning inside his head. Now that's a peculiar choice of word. "Tom, this might seem like too much for you, but would you consider asking the voice some questions for me?"

Tom snorted. "I would if the voice was more… open for conversation." He gave a short, mirthless cough of a laugh. "I can talk to it, but it is not really keen to hear what I have to say. It's mostly interested in hammering home how much of a failure I am and how better off everyone will be if I were dead."

Tord pursed his lips, deep in thought. If only he could invent something that allows him to have direct communication with this nasty entity. Pulling out Tom's file and the notes he'd written about the serum project thus far, he jotted down the new developments and looked over the older entries for more clues. Tom has been hearing the voice for about ten years, and it seems to have its own agenda…

"What exactly happens when you change into a monster?" He asked. "I understand you don't remember much. But do you black out halfway through the transformation? Is it like sleeping? – where you have no indication of time?"

"Sort of." Tom affirmed. "It hurts a lot to change, and most of the time I feel as though I passed out somewhere along the painful process. But after that…" He paused, looking down at his hands. "I am in control now. I know what I am doing, and I'm aware of my actions. I'm in the driver's seat, but whenever I shift it's like I've been kicked to the backseat- actually, no. Because being in the backseat would mean I can still see where I'm going. It's more like I've been tied up and gagged and thrown in the trunk of the car for a crazy ride. I have no input whatsoever when I become a monster."

"I see…" Tord narrowed his eye, mulling over this information. His gaze darkened. "Tom, that day when you told me about all of this you mentioned that you lost the right to be in control and something else would take your place. Were you talking about the voice?"

Tom was silent for so long that Tord was almost certain he wouldn't answer. "Yes." He finally mustered up the courage to whisper.

Tord digested this. A thousand possible theories dropped away before him as he laid out all the facts. He was silent for what he deemed to be a diplomatic interval; a theory piecing itself together in his brain as he started to pace around the lab.

Paul and Pat watched him with furrowed eyebrows. Usually their leader only paces when he is on the brink of a great idea. They approached quietly. "Sir?"

"It's the serum."

Tom looked up in confusion. "What?"

"The serum. The voice comes from the serum." Tord repeated, sounding as though he were in a daze as realization slowly dawned on him. His mind reeling. "The primary element – the purple stuff – is a sentient being, remember? It makes sense!"

Pat tipped his head thoughtfully. "A collateral effect, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure." Tord shook his head.

"But how?" Paul sputtered. "I mean, I get the how but rather… why? What? I- if this really is the serum's doing, then what does it gain from wanting Tom to die so badly? We experimented on so many people, and Tom for whatever reason is the only one compatible to get the result we wanted."

"Because the purple stuff needs a specific host." Tord added, tapping his chin as he continued to pace. "All the other test subjects turned to zombies for a reason." It all comes down to the essential question: why did the serum worked on Tom? What does he have that all other test subjects didn't? The voice is very keen to make Tom feel as miserable as possible, driving him to take his own life. But why? If Tom dies then it will die along with him.

But then a huge puzzle piece dropped on his lap when he remembered the whole point behind Tom's promise. Tom had agreed to die to stop himself from hurting others, or else the voice would take over. Tord tapped his hands together, looking thoughtful. The sounds more like an end goal; to take full control of Tom's body in both human and monster forms. But why urge him to die so bad?

A bone-deep chill ran through him then. Unless...

"Tom, is there anything peculiar about the voice's behaviour?" Tord asked.

"Peculiar how?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Like inconsistencies or weaknesses of any kind? Every detail is crucial to narrow down an appropriate explanation." Tord explained, still pacing.

Tom sighed, and there was a shudder in it. "Kinda? I mean, it's only recently that I noticed that the voice tends to shift back and forth in its arguments. One moment is saying that… nobody cares and I should just go, and then other times it will say that others care and that's why I should stay silent so as to not bother them with something way out of their control. I think it will say just about whatever to get me to feel like sh#t."

That's it!

"May I ask you one final question?" Tord went on; he wasn't sure how Tom would handle his next topic of inquiry, all things considered. "How long have you felt like this? This numbness you claim to have that hurts you so. This sadness and despair, and feeling as though you're not good enough."

Silence loomed large in the laboratory.

Tom thought carefully about the question as memories from long ago flooded the forefront of his mind, remembering when he was especially miserable during his school years after the incident that ended his friendship with Tord. How he was always on the brink of failing the year, getting bad grades in everything but English, never doing any homework, the teachers calling him a lost cause that wouldn't amount into anything, other students keeping their distance from him, and constantly worrying if his friends were secretly embarrassed to be associated with the likes of him. But even then, there was already something broken inside of him from when he lost his dad, and the guilt and grief that came from it. Damn, he has been feeling that way for a while. It got better after graduating and escaping the stressful life of school, but Tom still had many worries and doubts circling over him like a pair of vultures looking for a fresh carcass. When the voice surfaced, it brought all these troubling thoughts to the surface and maximized them to the extreme.

"Fourteen? Sixteen years maybe?" He breathed, feeling cold numbness swallow him whole.

Tord thought for a minute, a million thoughts cascading over one another. He watched the expressions on Tom's face shift between despair, frustration, and exhaustion. He desperately wanted to comfort him, to say or do something that would reassure the Brit that everything was going to be fine, but he found himself lost on what to do.

Instead, Tord turned away and made his way around the operating table toward the container of black sludge he had put aside a day prior. He grabbed a baster and collected a sufficient sample from the sludge and placed it inside a microwave-looking machine that would run a scan and take apart the contents of what this substance was made from.

"While we wait on that," Tord pulled up his robotic arm and started flicking through the research data he had accumulated from Tom over the past few weeks. "I need to check the scan results again to find something out."

"What are you after, sir?" Patrick prompted.

"I'm looking for the scans of Tom's brain to see if there are any anomalies the final results overlooked for not being directly involved with the serum." Tord explained without looking up from the digital panel in his arm. "Signs of mental illnesses, to be more specific…"

"What- what if you can't find anything?"

Tord blinked in surprise at the question.

He looked back at Tom with a puzzled frown only to find the eyeless man hunched over and hanging his head dejectedly as he stared down at the floor. "What if… there's nothing the matter with me and all of this is just… me? What if the voice is just me going crazy? If you can't find a reasonable explanation for any of this, then this cements that I really am messed up!"

"Calm down, Tom. I'm sure it won't come to that." Pat soothed.

"But it's a possibility, right?" Tom pointed out, growing increasingly anxious. "That you won't find anything wrong with me and it all comes down to me being naturally f#cked up?"

"Unlikely." Tord replied with no hesitation, his voice grave but soft. "Mental illnesses are quite a common occurrence, and you definitely check out most boxes." He drew closer to Tom and gave his hands a gentle squeeze. "Hey, look at me." He tilted the eyeless man's chin so that they maintained eye contact. "Even if we can't find a logical explanation for any of this, we won't give up on you, okay? We will find a way to help you, I promise."

Tom squinted at him, as if he couldn't tell whether he was being serious or not. He sighed but didn't argue any further.

A small pang of hurt pierced Tord's heart. He doesn't trust me yet. Then he pushed his disappointment aside and replaced it with determination. Actions speak louder than words. I will show him I only mean to help him, and earn his trust one day! He went back to flickering through the scan results, searching for the brain scans more determined than ever.

At last, Tord found what he was looking for and was met with what he'd already expected. Rendering the graphics of the scan and saturating the colours, he found clear structural abnormalities in the scan that showed an alteration in the thickness of some of the cortex regions, and a shadowed area spread out through the limbic system suggesting a reduced or impaired activity. He zoomed in and expanded the image and threw the projection onto the far wall for all of them to see.

Next, Tord made his way over to a table with equipment neatly laid out and pulled out the blood sample Yanov had collected from the injured soldier, spilling a few drops onto a little glass slide for the microscope and taking the rest of the blood sample to analyse and compare it to Tom's data. Looking through the results taken from Tom's blood side by side with the soldier's, Tord breathed out a small breath of relief to find that there were no similarities between the two, meaning that the serum's effects have not been passed over to her from a bite. So he can scratch out the possibility of a second monster off his list of concerns.

A loud buzz interrupted his thoughts, signifying that the machine investigating the black sludge was finished. Tord pulled away from the blood tests and reached out to see the results. So the black sludge is mainly composed of purple stuff, like I predicted, mixed with small traces of blood and… Tord blinked. Brain chemicals? He narrowed his eye and squinted to read the results closely. There was no mistake – a good portion of the black sludge's composition is serotonin, dopamine, glutamate, and norepinephrine; but these chemicals were presenting weird anomalies that indicate some form of deficiency.

Or corruption…

Wordlessly, Tord grabbed a baster and took another sample of the black sludge and made his way to the microscope. Peering into the eyepiece, he could see the red blood cells of the injured soldier's blood. He carefully wove his arm around and raised the baster over the stage of the microscope and pressed one single drop into the blood sample on the glass slide. At once, he watched as the viscous black substance started latching on to the blood cells and turning them a dark purple with a spiky cell membrane.

"I know that look." Said Patrick, watching him sharply. "You've figured something out."

Recapping all his latest discoveries and working out the theories he conjured up in the impressive spam of a few seconds, Tord looked up to meet their expectant gazes.

"I may have finally found the answer to perfecting the serum at long last." Tord began. He nodded toward the projection of Tom's brain scans. "The purple stuff, for being a sentient entity, it needs certain conditions in order to thrive. All the other test subjects were turned into zombies precisely because none of them presented said required conditions."

"And what are these conditions?" Paul asked.

Tord nodded the projections of Tom's brain scans. "Mental illnesses most often present themselves as a chemical imbalance on the brain, lowering the performance and activities of certain areas such as mood and memory." He explained. "Now, think of the human brain as a computer. There can only be so many programs installed before it starts to deteriorate. The serum is a new program, and when applied to someone who has all their programs still fully intact, the serum – or rather, the purple stuff itself – doesn't have any room to perform, so it automatically starts to delete and corrupt the most vital brain functions in order to make space for itself but it goes too far, leading to the outcome of zombification."

Paul's eyebrows furrowed. "So what you're saying is that the key to the monster serum… is mental illness?" He scratched his head. "One thousand eight hundred and twenty five test subjects, and none of them had any mental illnesses? That's pretty farfetched, sir, with all due respect."

"Well we can't know for certain whether any of the past test subjects had them or not, but I believe even if they had they could still have been on the process of treatment and taking medication to balance out their brain's performance." Tord went on with his hypothesis. "Tom's issues have never been treated or directly addressed; just left to fester and worsen. Because of this, there was enough space for the purple stuff to install itself without the need to corrupt anything else."

"So I am empty headed? Nice." Tom murmured ruefully. "Doesn't really explain why it wants me to die so bad."

Tord regarded him for several heartbeats before responding. "I don't think it wants you to die, Thomas. I think that, due to it shifting back and forth in its arguments, that it wants you to be miserable more than anything else. It knew you wouldn't go through with it." He went on, gesturing toward the brain scans. "Since it's that very same chemical imbalance that allowed the serum to settle and flourish in your body, it would be in the entity's best interest to keep you subdued and in low spirits. In other words; the more miserable you are, the more power it will have over you and eventually take over your entire body. That's why you currently have no control over your monster half, and if you had let yourself give in to despair like it wanted you to there's no doubt in my mind that it intended to gain full control of you."

Tom processed his words, mulling over the explanation carefully. Is this true?

He could feel the voice shift awkwardly and grumble a long string of curses under its breath, not willing to admit if this was the case or not. Its silence was answer enough for Tom though.

"So now what?" Paul prompted, disrupting the silence that had fallen over the lab. "We know what we're dealing with, so what are we going to do about it?"

Tord scratched his chin pensively. "We need to come up with some sort of plan to get Tom to be in control of his monster half. That's our main goal now."

"But uhh… won't messing with my brain chemicals or whatever turn me into a zombie then? If that's what kept me alive from that fate in the first place it doesn't seem like a good idea to mess with it now." Tom pointed out sheepishly.

"Like I already said, if you didn't turn into a zombie the first time you won't turn into one now. The purple stuff is fully integrated into you, now it's just a matter of you taking the reins over the situation." Tord reasoned coolly, his eye narrowing. "In these last ten years dealing with the voice and your bouts of transformation into a monster, you handled it by starving yourself and drinking lots of alcohol." His gaze raked over Tom's scarred arms, silently adding their state to the list. "You've been… repressing it. Fighting against it every step of the way out of fear of hurting others. Understandable. But perhaps if you were to embrace it instead, maybe you'll have a better chance of gaining control."

Tom shook his head, eyes downcast. "I'm not so sure about this, Tord."

"Isn't it worth a try?" Patrick stepped closer to him. "What do you have to lose?"

"Myself." Tom replied bluntly, gazing at each one of them in turn evenly. "You don't know what's like to recede from your own body and just float around the back on your own head, in a thin line between existing and… not existing. Never knowing if you're gonna return, or if this is it – that's where you'll spend the rest of your meaningless existence. I can't just not fight it when it happens!"

"Calm down, Tom, you're getting upset." Tord cautioned.

But Tom wasn't listening. "This is too risky! What if the next time I turn it's the last time I will be in control? What if I never wake up again? I don't think I can do this - I-" He broke off with an intense hiss of pain as he grasped his own wrist.

Tord's eye widened. "Tom?"

The eyeless man's limbs were elongating and turning a purplish-black, his fingers shredding as the claws pushed their way out. He held up his hands, watching them grow larger. "No! NO!" Tom panicked, twitching and seizing as his body started going through the painful transformation process. "H-help me! Please!" He looked at them pleadingly.

Paul and Pat backed away, both looking torn between wanting to help and comfort him but not knowing what to do in this situation. Tord grabbed Tom by the shoulders to steady him and look into his eyes. "Thomas, please, you need to stop resisting and just let it happen! Trust me, you're gonna be okay!"

"But it hurts so much-!" Tom cried, his words trailing off into a growl as his horns started to grow out from his head. His voice turned rough and deep, gaining an almost animalistic quality to it. Tears pricked his eyes.

"I know. I know it does." Tord soothed, cupping his face. "I understand you're frightened, but you have to trust me when I tell you that I won't let you disappear, alright? You are going to wake up back in your body soon. But you must relax and let go for now!"

Tom collapsed forward, hands gripping the sides of his head in immense pain. Tord stepped back as Tom's teeth were pushed out one by one, clattering to the floor, and replaced with sharp fangs. Next, his long slender tail popped out and trashed around wildly behind him while his legs bent and shifted. It wasn't long until any trace of Tom was gone and the beast that took his place fixed its eyeless glare on the three of them, teeth bared and ears flat to its head as it snarled.

Tord swallowed as he regarded the half-human half-monster creature. "Hello again." He subtly motioned Paul and Pat to stay back and to not move with a gesture of his hand. This is gonna be ugly.

Quickly noticing the creature lowering to a crouch, getting ready to spring at him, Tord wasted no time in bolting out of the lab. He didn't look back as the monster gave chase; he could hear claws scrabbling against the tiled floor and the angry shrieks just right behind him. As he led the asset to the enclosure, Tord slammed the button to open the gates as he passed and dived into the wide empty area. Tord barely had any time to whirl around before the monster leaped at him with outstretched claws. Thinking fast, he ducked and rolled forward as the asset flew clear over him, and he raced out of the enclosure to slam the button again to shut the gates; successfully trapping the monster inside.

Furious snarls and scratching could be heard on the other side of the steel gates. Tord panted and leaned on one of the control panels, trying to catch his breath back.

"Tord!"

Paul and Patrick approached, eyes round with concern. He waved them away dismissively. "I'm alright, guys." He breathed. "It didn't get to me."

The three of them walked into the observatory, peering into the enclosure to watch the asset pace around angrily; tail lashing behind it as it suddenly paused and stared back at them ominously. It hissed at them, ears twitching. Tord's gaze didn't waver. However long it takes, they will find a way to help Tom through his issues and tame his monster half. He won't let Tom suffer alone and in silence ever again, and that's a promise Tord intends to keep at all costs.