PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Why is it, that I feel most alive at night? There must be something
about the inky darkness that calls to my soul, binding us inextricably
together. Or perhaps the attraction lies in my affinity for the other
folk that also seem to thrive after dusk; the thieves, the prostitutes,
the drunken politicians. Ahh, speaking of politicians, here comes one now.

The man darting out of Magoos turns down an alley and I swiftly follow
behind him. This is too perfect. "Excuse me!" I call out jovially.
"Arthur Kensington, isn't it?"

"Yes." With an air of suspicion, the old man stops to look at me, his
eyes slightly narrowed from behind his spectacles. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" I repeat, in the same cheerful, conversational tone.
"Why, nothing for myself. But Doctor Carter has asked me to give you
a message."

"Oh?"

I see I have surprised him, but still hold his attention. "Yes. You are
Arthur Kensington, distinguished Board member of Cook County Hospital,
are you not?"

"I am."

"Pity. For you."

In one swift motion, I withdraw my sword from its concealed scabbard
and plunge it into the gentleman's throat. I am not satisfied until
it sinks to the hilt. His eyes are wild with shock and pain; a strangled
gurgling in his throat as crimson blood spews forth in a gushing flood.
I yank out the sword and he crumples to the ground, twitching for
several seconds before becoming still. Mesmerized by the sight,
I stare at my handiwork for a while, delighted by the growing pool
of blood that spreads from his mangled throat. Is that me laughing?

Replacing my sword in its sheath, I step over the body and whistle a
tune, as my footsteps echo down the alleyway.

***************

October 7 7:05 p.m.

I am starting to lose control of the experiment. Truman is gaining
more power and I am afraid of losing myself. Am I being absorbed
into Truman or he into me? I have no concrete memories of what he
has done but I have dreams. Unspeakable nightmares filled with screams
and blood. Blood that flows like an endless river, threatening to
drown me. Though I fear I am going mad, I cannot bring myself to
stop. Not just yet. If only the pharmacy would deliver those drugs!
I am sure the new formula will work. I cannot leave the house,
for fear the transformations will overtake me at any time. I could not
live with myself if I hurt anyone I care for.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Someone is approaching. I turn my head to find a familiar face coming
towards me, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Thank you for coming," I say, hurriedly pressing a slip of paper
into his hands. "This is a list of the new drugs I need. Please go
as quickly as you can."

Peter Benton frowns, first at the crumpled paper in his hand, then
at me. "Hold on a moment. You refuse to see me for days, then I get
a frantic message to come here. I need to know what is going on."

"And I need those drugs! I cannot go to the pharmacy myself. I need
your help, Doctor Benton."

"Why? Why can you not go? Are you ill?" He steps closer, scrutinizing
me in a fashion that makes me want to hide in the shadows. "You do look
pale. Agitated." His voice softens slightly, his concern coming to the
forefront again. "Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Tell me."

I shake my head, pleading with my eyes. "I can't. Not now. Right now
I need you to obtain those drugs. Please!"

Staring at me with an unreadable expression, he purses his lips.
"Fine. I'll go. But I need some sort of explanation when I return.
Everyone is worried about you and with good reason, I see."

Relieved when he finally goes on his way, all I can do is sit and wait.
A sudden twisting of my gut wrenches a gasp from my throat. I double
over in the chair, consumed with pain. It is happening again, out of
my control...I can't stop it...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I concentrate on each inhalation and exhalation of air; the very breath
of life. How fragile it is. Able to be snuffed out of others with one
squeeze of my bare hands.

All light has been extinguished from the room, save for one lamp set
on a low flame. Now and then it stutters and flickers, casting strange
and elongated images on the walls.

"John?" calls out a voice from above. "Are you there?"

"He is not," I answer.

After a hesitation, the man descends the steps slowly. "Who are you?"
His tone is demanding; one that is accustomed to receiving quick replies.

"A colleague of Doctor Carter."

"Colleague? What is your name?"

"Nathan Truman."

Cautiously, the man approaches me, his eyes flashing with suspicion.
"He's never mentioned you. Where is he?"

"Out," I reply shortly. "He asks that you leave the drugs with me,
Doctor Benton."

He looks startled that I know his name. But he is a stubborn fellow.
"I won't give them to anyone but John."

Leaping from the chair, I advance on him and he shrinks back, eyes wide.
"Don't be a fool, Doctor! Hand them over."

"I will not. Stay back, sir! What have you done with John?" He looks
around him, as if expecting to see a fallen body on the floor.

So the good friend fears for Carter's life. As well he should. I am the
one in control now. "Is it John you want then?" I taunt, my voice a
low growl. "I'll give you your precious John." Grabbing the package
from Benton's hands, I tear into it, pushing him away as he tries to
stop me. I hear him unsheath his sword before I see it. Spinning around,
I meet him head on, but he is no match for my overpowering strength.
Wrenching the sword from his hand, I aim the tip for his throat.
"Take care, Benton, unless you want to end up like the others." He steps
back and I place the sword on the work bench, within easy reach. It takes
me less than a minute to fill the syringe with the newly provided drugs.
"Watch and learn," I hiss, plunging the needle into my thigh. Staggering
on my feet, I manage to remain upright until the excrutiating pain overcomes
me. With a ragged cry, I drop to the floor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The roar in my ears grows dimmer and the pain starts to dissipate. Gasping,
I begin to raise myself from the floor. A face swims into my vision and
blinking furiously, I am horrified when recognition sets in. "Doctor Benton!"

"Oh my God. My God, John!" He sounds equally stunned, shaking his head
in disbelief. "What have you done to yourself?"

So he knows. He must have witnessed my transformation. I take the offered
hand and rise to my feet, trying to control the residual tremors that run
through me. "Now you know. I am the subject of my own experiment."

"One that has obviously gotten out of hand!" Peter exclaims. "Are you
even aware of what just happened?"

"No. I don't know the things that Truman does. At least, not completely.
I think on some level, I must know. I...have dreams."

"Well, he held that sword to my throat!" Pointing at the weapon on the
table, he glares at me. "And I tell you, by the look in his eye, he would
have liked nothing better than to see my blood spilled."

Visibly trying to calm down, he takes several breaths, finally sitting down
in the nearby chair. He stares at me, contemplating my countenance. "It's
the strangest thing," he says slowly. "When I looked at Nathan Truman,
there was such evil and menace in his face. A madness. I did not once
recognize that it was you. And yet, when I look at you now, I see a hint
of the madman in you. In your eyes. And I know that some part of you must
have been in Truman too."

It is the truth, but I do not want to hear it from him. "I can still control
this. With these new drugs, I should be able to..."

"No, John, you have gone too far!" he interrupts me vehemently, reminding
me of my younger days when he often reprimanded me. "You cannot hope to
control the monster you have created. It's too risky. Not only for
yourself, but others in your life. What if Lucy had been here? Think of
what could have happened!"

"But it didn't happen. It won't happen!"

"What about the others that have already been killed?"

"What...what others?" I stammer.

"Three members of the Board have all been mysteriously murdered, all in
the past week. Are you telling me you didn't know?"

An icicle of fear seems to stab me in the back, leaving me breathless.
"No, I...I didn't know. But that does not necessarily mean Truman is
behind it!"

"I don't have solid proof. That is true," he admits. "But when you,
sorry, when Truman was threatening me with the sword, he said, 'take care,
Benton, unless you want to end up like the others'."

Though my heart still wants to protest, I am steadily losing ground.
It must be true. But my mind rebels against the notion that my own
hands could have committed murder. "I can't believe it," I mutter.
"I don't want to believe it." The thought sickens me, nausea curling
through my belly.

"What do your dreams tell you?" he asks me softly.

Dreams filled with blood, mayhem, powerful hunger, visions of death,
slit throats, lust and desire.

The last thought gives me pause. Desire...for Lucy? No...with dread,
I sense that Abby is the target of Truman's desire. How exactly I know
this, I cannot say. But I realize she is in grave danger. "You are
right, Doctor Benton, I will put an end to this. Somehow. But first,
you must do something else for me." Going to my desk, I write a hasty
letter and stuff it into an envelope, along with a bit of money. I hand
this over to him and he gives me an inquisitive look. "Go to Magoos and
give this to Abby Lockheart. Do you remember her?"

"Yes, but...why?"

"I think she's in danger. From Truman. I just need your word that you
will do this."

"All right. You have my word."

"Thank you."

Walking with him as far as the steps, I give him my final promise.
"The experiment ends tonight. You have *my* word on that. I only
hope you understand why I did it. What I fought so hard for."

He clasps my shoulder in a firm grip. "I know, John. I'm the one who
encouraged you not to give up, remember? I know."

He climbs the stair, closing the door behind him. I make my way to the
spare room, collapsing onto the cot. I only intend to rest for a few
minutes. I am so weary. A few minutes are all I need.

***************

The crash of shattering glass wakes me abruptly. Someone is in the
laboratory! Bolting upright, I run from the spare room to find Lucy
gazing at me with a decidedly guilty expression, a book in her hands.
After recovering from the surprise, I belatedly realize she is holding
my journal.

"What do you think you're doing!" I roar, causing her to flinch. Stalking
over to her, I grab the book out of her hands. "This is private!"

"I'm sorry. The door was open so I came in, looking for you. I didn't
intend to read it, I just..."

"How much did you read?" I demand, cutting her off in mid-sentence.

"The...the last entry," she sputters, her eyes pleading for understanding.
"I am so sorry, John. I have no excuse. Except that I have been worried
sick about you and, well, I feel so cut out of your life. We used to
share everything, including your work, and now I can only wonder what you
have been doing. I don't know...I feel like I'm losing you. Please,
I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Her voice finally breaking, she dissolves
into tears. The fact that I have only seen her cry on very rare occasions
tells me that I have wounded her deeply. I feel like an absolute heel.

Tossing the book onto the table, I gather her into my arms. "Shhh, it's
all right," I croon, stroking her back. "Please don't cry. It breaks
my heart."

Her shudders soon subside and she remains in my embrace, sniffling against
my shoulder. "I truly am sorry," she says finally. "I should not have
read it."

"Apology accepted. But only if you will accept mine. I'm sorry if I
frightened you."

"You didn't. Well, you may have startled me. But you could never
frighten me."

I take her hand and lead her to a bench, where we may both sit. "I have
something to tell you. Perhaps I should have told you from the very
beginning but I wanted to protect you and in a way, I suppose, protect
myself. After the Board turned down my proposal for the forumula,
I tested it on myself."

She inhales sharply, her gaze fixed on mine. "Go on."

"I don't want to go into all the details but, let's just say, it has
been a failure. The evil is too difficult to control. So I am going
to end the experiment."

"I see. Is that all you are going to tell me?"

"It's all that I can bring myself to tell you right now. Maybe...
one day..." My voice trails off as I silently hope she will accept
my meager explanation.

She does not disappoint me. "All right. It's a good thing I'm such a
patient woman." She smiles at me, with gentle humour. "I had better go.
Father is waiting on dinner."

Taking advantage of our solitude, we kiss, keeping the moment sweet
and light. Neither of us are in the mood to intensify the situation.
Not tonight.

After seeing Lucy to the door, I take care to lock it, shutting myself
in once more. Before I even reach the bottom of the stairs, it begins
again. "No," I groan, doubling over in agony. I must get to the drugs!
Stumbling along, yet somehow remaining on my feet, I reach the edge of
the table. Another piercing pain rips through me. "No, no, no..."

And the nightmare begins again.