This work of fiction is catered to a Mature Adult audience. Like the fandom it resides in, it is not suitable for children or adolescents.
I am not a therapist, please do not replicate any of the practices described here and if you are suffering from (mental) health issues, please seek the help of a certified professional. Stay safe.

Trigger warning includes, but is not limited to:
Body Horror, Depression, Mentions of PTSD, Turning into a Monster, Pseudoscience, Needles, Blood/Gore, Guilt, Self-Hatred, Self-Harm, Suicide Ideation, Suicide Attempts, Murder, Cannibalism, Raw Foods (including raw meat), Forced Medication, Explicit Language, Possibly Explicit Sexual Content

The first thing Ethan Winters remembered was the deep pit in his stomach. His anger, his helplessness, his despair when he realized that he was falling apart, that his body was slowly degrading as he could only watch on. He had managed to keep his cool talking to the Duke about it, but in the light of the rising dawn all his hope for a return to normality dissipated. Nearly all stages of grief condensed into a single moment, grief for the loss of his own life.
He had taken most revelations in the past 48 hour quite well: his wife had been shot, his daughter kidnapped and quartered by a bunch of psychos, neither of them were actually dead and the man he had thought had betrayed him had saved him in the end. The news that he had been dead for more than three years however had broken him. He didn't have the will to fight anymore when Chris Redfield had thrown him over his shoulders and taken Rose in his arms, carrying both of them to safety.
Lying on the hard floor in the helicopter, all he could think of was the conversation with Eveline. The ghost stuck in his head, in every moldy cell. How much else was there? How much of the Bakers? How much of all the victims that Evi had turned into monsters? Dead. He shouldn't be walking, much less have a family.
"Ethan? Still with us?" Chris asked and patted his cheek lightly.
Tears pooled in his brown eyes and rolled down his face. Dead. After all he had been through. Dead. Nothing he had done was created by his own strength, nothing made possible by his own resilience. It had been the Mold keeping his decaying body together all along. Nothing was his own, not even the daughter he had fought to save.
"Ethan, talk to us", Mia pleaded.
"You should have left me there", he finally whispered. "I'm dead anyway."
"Bullshit, we'll fix you. You've survived worse", Chris said emphatically.
"No, I haven't. I'm a fucking zombie and you should blow my brains out."

The helicopter was silent, safe for the deafening roar of the rotor blades outside.
"What are you talking about?" Chris asked.
Mia was awfully quiet, Ethan suspected she had known all along.
"I died in Louisiana three years ago. I'm no better than those molded or these lycans", Ethan tried to suppress the sobs that shook his whole body. "You should have told me, Mia. You should have told me."
"I'm sorry", she replied. "I just… couldn't do it."
"You're not like those monsters. You're still the soft-eyed idiot I pulled out of the bayou. You're still Ethan."
"How would you know? I was already a walking corpse when we first met."
Fuck, everything hurt: crying, moving, even breathing. His new heart was still beating, maybe it would crumble like his hands. That explained the breaking feeling at least.
"We'll talk about it all when we're somewhere safe, alright?" Chris proposed in a choked voice.

The explosion beneath them drowned out the steady drone of the machinery, but Ethan didn't hear any of it anymore. Neither did he hear the voices of the people around him, calling out to him to stay awake. His breaths grew shallower and the intervals increased as his heartbeat slowed down, his body preserving as much energy as possible in an attempt to regenerate all the damaged tissue with mold. A large portion of the mycelia had been ripped out with his heart, the rest of the core had been split up. The replacement organ was nothing more than a cheap substitute from fruiting bodies that would die down quickly. Maybe the root of it could repair itself, given enough time and resources. Whether Ethan would live through all of it was another question.

"We need to go back to the safe house, all of my research is there", Mia demanded.
"You can't be serious, there is not enough time. We should get him to a hospital", Chris replied.
"So they can do - what exactly? How many hospitals are specialized in caring for mutated undead?"
She cradled Rose in her arms and rocked gently in place. For someone just about to lose her husband, she was a bit too calm and composed. On the other hand, maybe she had suspected this day would come after she had been captured by Miranda and had already made her peace with the thought that not her whole family would come out of this disaster alive.
"Listen, I know this may sound stupid and dangerous, but I've spend my time well these past three years. The BSAA gave me the resources and tools to help them improve RAMRODs and, well, I'd say I've succeeded. What they don't need to know is that I also had a little side project in case Rose or Ethan ever encountered such a situation. Turns out, I wasn't wrong."
The look she gave Chris was filled with determination. Rose had fallen asleep in her arms by now and the Hound Wolf Squad was busy planning a course to fetch the remaining members from the outskirts of the village area.
"We can fix him, Chris. But I need to go back to our house."

Chris followed Mia down the stairs in the garden shed. How had he not known of this secret room? He internally scolded himself for not paying closer attention to the place he had put them in. The air was dusty and smelled like year-old fungi and rotting paper. With a few presses on a panel behind a crate, Mia opened the sturdy, old door. It swung open to a large underground laboratory, filled with shelves, lockers and machinery. In one corner, he saw familiar handwriting and a large container with a white, pulsating substance.
"Oh, good, it didn't go bad while I was… away", Mia said and walked over to the area that seemed to be dedicated to the white mold variety.
"This is… please tell me you didn't continue Lucas' experiments."
The cellar resembled Miranda's lab so much that a paranoid part of Chris wondered whether she and Mia might have worked together, given the right circumstances. In contrast, the White Mold reminded him unpleasantly of his encounter with the Bakers' son in the salt mines and the adjacent labs.
"I knew something was wrong with Ethan but the BSAA couldn't find it, so I did my own research. Crazy as he was, Lucas has been on to something. I think I made the White Mold more manageable, though a constant dose of a chemical stabilizer will be necessary, at least in the beginning. Also, I've reached out to an old friend in a pharmaceutical company and she sent me samples of a few antipsychotics they are developing."
She retrieved a suitcase from one of the lockers and propped it open on the only unoccupied table. It contained several vials filled with the same off-white substance that she kept in a tank, plus a number of prescription-drugs and capsules.
"Two of the drugs seem to work on the nerves I bred from the mold. In combination, it may be enough to negate the psychological effects of a full mold transformation. I fear the mycelium within Ethan has been severely damaged and god knows if it can recover. This stuff", she patted the case cautiously, "can withstand fire, gunshots and explosions and still grow at a constant rate. If the black mold is really at its limits, we can boost it with this variety."
Mia seemed to notice the shock and disbelief in Chris' eyes and her proud demeanor crumbled. She fumbled with the lid and snapped the clasps shut.
"The choice is yours. He won't stay with me either way, I can only lose him after all that's happened. Best case scenario, he will forgive me - in time."
"You want me to inject Ethan with some stuff you grew from the crazy research a lunatic did in some bayou? The same guy I had to kill after he'd gone off the deep end?"
This was disgusting; the thought of doing the same vile thing Eveline had done to him in the first place, to rob him of his last shred of dignity just to keep him with them. Part of Chris wanted to honour Ethan's unspoken wish of dying as human as he still was. The other part couldn't let it end like this, not after everything they'd fought for. Mia must have sensed his hesitation to decline, for she continued undeterred.
"There is an old warehouse the Connections used for their experiments, one of many worldwide. The BSAA sequestered it after I told them about the place, but I have it on good authority they never really investigated the premises. I even still have the keys to the building… you can use the dog kennels on the grounds as a pretense to claiming it. Truth be told, your superiors value my worth a little too high. If I vouch for your need, no one will question it, probably for months."
"Why are you so sure I take this ridiculous offer?" Chris asked.
"Because you're just as desperate as I am", she smiled weakly.

Not even 36 hours later, most of the Hound Wolf Squad stepped off the helicopter onto a clearing in the middle of nowhere. The next town was a 25 minute drive away, as Charlie and Rolando had announced when they started the journey with land vehicles to provide transportation once they started settling in. Chris still wasn't sure how he had convinced any of them to follow him down this insane road, but they had gladly accepted the offer to take some time off.
Mia had taken care of the permits and put all of her savings on an account to which she granted them access. Her 'savings' turned out to be a fortune and Chris didn't dare ask where it came from. Better to not know, he figured.
Ethan was still unconscious, his heart rate continuously slow and steady. As per Mia's advice, Chris wanted to first get him into the containment cell before starting treatment.
The building resembled a sturdy warehouse with reinforced walls and doors. Contrary to the slightly outdated look of the exterior, the electronics were modern and shipshape. As the front gate opened, the lights turned on automatically. The illuminated interior was impressive. The rooms on the western side consisted of offices and small labs, whereas the eastern side featured a large break room, two adjacent smaller rooms with a bed in each, and restrooms. Well, that explained why Mia had insisted on getting them the keys to their own little apartments in the town; this was too small to house the whole squad.
The centerpiece of the facility was a transparent construct of reinforced steel beams and bulletproof glass. It could be separated into four rooms inside: a sleeping area that could be split up to create a safer entry point, a bathroom unit and a small area in which stood an old, sturdy metal chair and table, presumably for tests. The moveable glass walls were suspended from the ceiling of the hall. The walkway along the upper floor extended so the cell could be viewed from above.
All in all, it was a bit dusty, but well kept and more than suited for their intent. This would be their base of operation for a while, so the next goal was to get used to the surroundings and make it a temporary home.

"So, how do we get this stuff into him? Pouring it in his mouth? Hypodermic, intravenous or intramuscular injection? Or just rub it on him?"
All of Emily's suggestions were accompanied by her obvious display of disgust. Truth be told, Chris found none of the options appealing. It didn't actually matter how they did it, the fact that they attempted it at all was morally wrong. Ethan lay on the cot in the glass room, still unresponsive and breathing slowly and shallowly. The bathroom unit was sealed off, just in case.
"I'd say intravenous. He's lost a lot of fluids on the way here and we can give him an electrolyte drip while we're at it", Charlie suggested. "That should also help distribute the… what was it? White Mold? And if I'm not completely mistaken, fungi prefer humid places, right?"
"I agree. Alright, guys, let's get this thing going. John, Rolando, unload the cargo. Charlie, you're in charge of the medical procedures. Dion, search the labs and offices for anything useful. Emily, check if you can get the cameras working, I want this place operational before we lock the containment cell down."
While everyone got to their respective tasks, he began to set up the contents of the suitcase on a table he dragged out of a small ground floor office. Mia had made sure to label each piece with concise instructions on content and use. She had also phoned the caretaker to set up the apartments in the outskirts of the town so they had an actual place to live while they worked here. For a quasi single mom grieving over her kinda dead husband this was an impressive amount of foresight and connections to the right people, no pun intended.
The time flew by while everyone was busy, so the sound of a car horn outside came as a shock. Chris slipped into his jacket to cover up the holster and cautiously stepped outside.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Winters? I am the caretaker, Archi", an elderly man greeted him from his vintage truck. "Mia told me you and your associates plan on training dogs here and need a place to stay."
Chris didn't bother correcting the old man, the less confusion on who he might be, the better.
"Sure, we hope you can help us with that."
"Of course, of course. I came here to drop off the keys and give you the address. It was on a rather short notice, but I managed to furnish six one-room apartments with a few commodities. You can use them as long as needed."
He handed Chris a large, brown envelope with a kind smile. A few teeth were missing, but it seemed genuine.
"Thank you, Mr. Archi. Mi… my wife and I appreciate all you do for us", Chris lied.
"Just Archi. Give my best to Mrs. Winters, she's such a sweetheart. Good luck with your dogs, I hope it turns a profit."
The old man tipped his head before putting his car in reverse and driving off.

By the time he stepped back inside, the IV-drip was already hanging from a hook on the wall and sending its content through the plastic tubes.
"Squad, your attention, please", Chris called into the hall.
He distributed the keys among them and they saved the address in their phones. Having them all in the same location should prove useful - especially taking their limited transportation into account - though the paranoid fear of an attack on the building wormed its way through him.
"We made good progress today. The injection needs some time to take effect. If no one objects, you are dismissed for today", Chris announced. "You may move your personal belongings to your new quarters. Good work, everyone."
While the others started packing their bags into the two vehicles outside, Charlie stuck around.
"What about you, Alpha?" Charlie had no reason to use his squad name outside of mission, but it still slipped out of him every now and then.
"I'll stay here for tonight, to keep watch", Chris replied.
"Alright", the young soldier hummed. "Then I'll stay here, too."
"You've earned some rest. Go celebrate with the others", Chris said with a melancholic smile.
"If I do that, someone else will spend the whole night meticulously watching Ethan and not get any sleep himself", Charlie grinned and tossed his rucksack onto one of the cots. The following silence confirmed his victory.
"Besides, changing the infusion bags will be a lot faster with four hands. If I read Mia's instructions right, we should give him a second dose in two hours and the last in eight."
Emily came back into the building to say goodbye and get her headphones.
"Not joining us? We wanted to grab a drink after we dropped off our stuff."
"Nah, I'll stay here with our patient and make sure the boss doesn't mess up and get some air into the infusion system."
"Suit yourself", she shrugged and waved good-night.

It was quarter past three in the morning when Charlie injected the last syringe into Ethan's veins. They had decided that Chris would sleep until then and take over once the procedure was done. Yawning, the young soldier removed the remaining equipment from the cell and sealed it off. Now they'd wait and hope.
Chris had hardly slept at all. The moral ambiguity of their rescue attempt nagged at him and he had to fight the feeling of guilt that crept up on him every time he closed his eyes. How would Ethan react if he woke up? He had to correct himself: once he woke up. Chris had to nurture what little hope he had.
As he stared into the dimly lit prison, something changed. Ethan's torso began to bubble like soap, white and grey blisters formed and popped, starting over his heart, but it rapidly engulfed all of him. Amidst the scum, his eyes snapped open, an expression of absolute terror reflecting in them. His mouth formed into a scream, but no sound escaped as it filled with black bubbling liquid. Plumes of vapor rose from the dissolving skin and revealed the greyish flesh underneath. For a split second, Chris had the urge to unlock the cell and run in. Then common sense prevailed: whatever happened now, he could do nothing to help him. Ethan thrashed about wildly, twisting and turning as he fell off the cot onto his knees, and clawed at his back. The hospital gown they had put him in was already melting, the drops of cotton and skin disappeared before they hit the floor. After what felt an eternity, the featureless, blackish shape collapsed onto the cold ground, shaking from heavy breaths. Chris watched for another two minutes before he stumbled over to the restroom and vomited until all that left his mouth was sour, bitter bile. Yeah, guilt tasted just the way he remembered it.

In the light of the new day, things didn't look any better. Charlie had found Chris half-asleep on the tiled floor and retched when he took a closer look at Ethan. At least the fully transformed figure was less of a slimy mess and more like the E-type Molded they had been seen on Chris' photos. Not that it was any consolation, he still looked horrifying. Every now and then, a twitch shook Ethan's body and he seemed to move a bit, so he was probably still alive in the widest sense of the word.
"We should inform Mia", Charlie broke the silence. They stood by the cell, watching the heap inside.
"She's gonna kill me", Chris said flatly. "She threatened it after Dulvey, but this time she will try it, for sure."
"Don't you think she anticipated something like this?"
"Who knows? She's almost as insane as Miranda was."

Charlie snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to their very own mad scientist. Through the lens of his phone's camera, the sight was bearable, though still unpleasant. Not even ten minutes later, Chris' phone rang and he put her on speaker.
"Hey, Mia. I'm sor…"
"Morning, Chris. That developed a lot faster than in my experiments", she interrupted cheerfully. "Great idea with the IV-drip. I should have thought of that myself."
"Charlie's idea", Chris confessed, disoriented by her delighted demeanor.
"Thanks, Mrs. Winters", Charlie chimed in and earned a sharp look from Chris.
"Mia, just a question: Did you plan on melting your husband? If so, you could have told us beforehand."
"Oh, I forgot that happened in some cases. Sorry. That's why I chose Cecilia's old room", she explained and added softly: "No, Rose, that's not a toy."
The men waited until it sounded like the situation on the other side of the call was back under control. Chris also made a mental note to inquire about this 'Cecilia' some time.
"So, what's the next step?" he asked.
"There's a strong stabilizer liquid in the suitcase. You can either use the blow gun or just sprinkle it on him. Right now, his skin is quite permeable and any contact with the drugs should be enough."
Chris rubbed his eyes, maybe his tired brain was playing tricks on him. Charlie's question confirmed how strange it all sounded.
"Uhm, Mrs. Winters? Did I get that right that you want us to throw chemicals at him and just… see what sticks?" Charlie sounded confused. Either the lack of sleep was getting to him, or Mia's instructions made less sense with every passing day.
"Oh, no, no. It will stick. The next doses - I suggest 9 am and 9 pm - should be just the stabilizer, then add the drug marked AP318 into all following morning doses. If he stops melting by tomorrow, you can forgo the evening administration."
"Okay, thanks. We'll keep you updated."
Chris and Charlie stared at each other in disbelief. No way both of them were this tired and imagining the content of this call. After a minute of silence, it was again Charlie who spoke first, the awkward joke hitting a nerve:
"Boss, are you sure we killed the right crazy lady?"

The stabilizer did what Mia had promised: the shifting, twisting mass began to reshape itself into a vaguely humanoid form over the next 24 hours. It was impossible to tell whether Ethan was in pain or felt anything at all. The other squad members had a similar reaction as Charlie: retching and questioning their and all involved parties' sanity. John noticed that much to everyone's surprise, there seemed to be no unpleasant smell and the slimy grey footprints on the floor dissolved within seconds into thin air. This was a consolidation given how much time he spent lurching about in his cell.
"Do you think he can see anything?" Dion asked.
They were adjusting the angle of the cameras and Ethan's eyeless and featureless head made him nervous.
"Not much, I guess", Charlie replied with a glance over to the enclosure. "He bumped into the glass a few times and now he's a lot more careful. Though going in to administer the drugs will be a lot harder now that he's mobile."

Going in turned out well-nigh impossible that evening. As soon as the door was opening, Ethan let out a loud, menacing snarl and sharp, white spikes formed on his skin. The maw was filled with uneven, misshapen teeth that stood out in seemingly impractical directions. For chewing, at least - they looked more than suited for wounding and tearing at prey. Since Charlie was too fascinated to move, Chris had to shove him back out of the cell before locking it behind them. He was glad that the others had already left, because he wouldn't have had the nerve to deal with Emily's cynicism about the whole situation.
"Did you see that?" Charlie marveled. "I didn't know they could grow limbs that fast! And those natural weapons…"
"Will kill you, if you don't take care", Chris admonished. "Just because it's someone we know doesn't mean you should let your guard down. He's still dangerous."
"Yeah, I know", Charlie sighed. "I've just never seen the E-type in person and it's so different from the lycans."
"That's not even the most impressive thing they're capable of. Now, focus on the task at hand", the captain warned. "We'll use the blowgun."
Chris pointed at the hatch in the wall. It had two doors, the one on the inside could be electrically opened and closed with a switch from the control panel to ensure the enclosure was sealed tight.
"How about we also close off the entrance and leave him water and some food there? He hasn't had any since… we left the village, if I recall correctly?" Charlie suggested.
"Right, let's get on with it, then."

Ethan's appetite wasn't really that great, as it turned out, or maybe he wasn't into the Thai take-out Emily had brought for everybody. Surprisingly carefully, he had picked through the contents of the paper plate with his claws before fishing a few pieces out with a long, versatile tongue. From what the two could deduce, the bites he ate were those least cooked. Maybe this hint was the key to understanding him a bit better. While Ethan was busy dealing with his plate, the two men outside used the occasion to prepare the blowgun. He didn't notice the little dart in his back that fell off as soon as it had emptied its content. Hopefully, the recovery would be quick, seeing him like this made the whole squad uncomfortable.

"How is he today?" Mia asked via the phone some five days after the first time Ethan started wandering around in his cell. Chris tried to keep her updated, but it came down to a short call in the late morning mostly.
"Less gooey, quite lively and trying to attack anything that approaches his cell. Still no sign of recognition or personality", Chris reported and wiped his free hand over his face. This whole operation was a goddamn mess. At least Charlie kept him company when the others left in the evening. Staying here alone would have already driven him mad. "Fuck, are you sure we haven't killed him?"
"I've sighted the security tapes, there are phases in which he starts to look human and seems to at least try to understand where he is. I think he's in there, just buried."
"I hope you're right. Taking care of him is a nightmare, I never know what to expect in the morning."
"Hey, Alpha, come take a look at this", Charlie's voice came from the speaker in the office he had retreated to.
"Speaking of the devil… We'll talk later, bye", Chris ended the call and hurried to the containment area.

Inside the glass box, the molded swayed and waited for something. It's featureless head moved around as if trying to follow an external stimulus.
"I hope he does it again", the young soldier whispered. "Dion asked me to get the dogs' BARF food from the fridge."
Charlie held up the bucket containing pieces of raw meat and bones. On the other side of the glass, Ethan's head snapped in their direction.
"I dropped him some pieces through the hatch - sorry, Chris, but he seemed hungry - he gobbled them up and looked at me. I mean, there was an actual eye. Wanna test it?"
Chris took a piece of what seemed to be beef and stepped closer to the glass wall. The Molded turned and lurched towards him, spiked arms hanging at the sides. He rolled the raw meat between his fingers; it felt wrong to feed a friend dog food, but if this turned out to be a quicker and easier way to get the stabilizers in him, then to hell with reservations.
Curiosity and guilt fought for control, with the former emerging victorious; Chris opened the hatch and tossed the cubed beef in. Ethan was surprisingly fast and dexterous, he caught the piece with a clawed hand and stuffed it into his spiked maw. He swayed a little and two amber eyes bubbled up on the sides of his head, lopsided and uneven, but focused on the men outside his cell.
"Wow", Chris said.
The molded lunged forward, throwing his weight against the glass wall. Grey saliva stained the surface as he pressed his giant teeth against it and there was a terrible screeching sound of claws scratching on glass. Even worse were the inhuman growls and whines that he emitted.
"Blimey, that's new", Charlie gaped. "Do you think he's really that hungry?"
Chris stepped to the side and the molded followed him, still gurgling and clawing at the wall.
"Probably, but I want to try something", Chris replied. "Call the others over, leave the bucket."
Charlie wandered off to get them and came back a while later with the whole team in tow. Ethan was still fixated on Chris, though he stopped hitting the wall. Instead, he stood on the other side of the glass, waiting as menacingly as molded seem to do when not ripping people apart. The sight continued to make Chris' skin crawl, after his adventure in the salt mines he had hoped to never see one of those things up close like this again.
"How can we help?" Emily asked and their captain explained the plan:
"Take a piece, keep it in your hand until it's warm and then toss it to Ethan. Let's see if he reacts. Em, you first."
The only woman in the group looked disgusted, but not by the thought of touching raw meat. She looked as if her stomach turned every time she saw the moving grey mass.
"Alright, if I must", she said through gritted teeth and did just that.
The throw was high enough so Ethan could easily catch it in the air, teeth clicking shut, and he emitted a soft chattering noise.
"Alright, now try moving around. Let's see if he follows you."
The blonde woman started round the glass box counter-clockwise and the bulbous head turned and tilted. When she stopped, however, his attention returned to the bucket.
The other men repeated the process and each time Ethan seemed to become more pleasant, chattering and trilling after he had gulped down the meat cubes. He wandered around the room, watching the people outside curiously, but as soon as Chris moved, the molded man focused solely on him again.
"Do you think he recognizes any of us?" Charlie asked.
"I doubt it", Emily snorted. "We're just meals to those things."
"But he seems to like the boss", Charlie tried.
"Or maybe it hates him? It could be looking for a way to get within striking distance", Emily retorted.
"Could you please stop referring to Winters as 'it'? That's really unnerving. Personally, I try to hold on to the hope that this is just a phase", John said.
"Think whatever you want, I don't like this one bit. We're experimenting on an unwitting test subject and none of us is any better than Miranda, the Connections or old Umbrella. I'm only staying so I can put a RAMROD through its skull if it ever tries to kill any of you", Emily announced and left.
Charlie turned to run after her, but was stopped by Chris.
"Leave her be, for now. She's right. I have to succeed in turning him back or take the responsibility and put him out of his misery myself. All of you are free to help or spend your time on other things."
"We'll stay with you, boss. Would be ridiculous if we can't set this straight", John said and the others intoned their agreement.

"Good morning", Charlie greeted Ethan, turning on the lights in the hall.
It was still early in the morning, it took till after 9 am before the sunlight illuminated the inside of the building completely. Inside his cell, the molded rose from the floor, dropping the blanket in the process.
"Ready for some breakfast?" the young soldier laughed and lifted the bowl of raw meat chunks. Ethan warbled, clicked his teeth and lurched closer to the hatch. Since they started tossing him raw meat cubes, he was growing more docile and stopped snarling at anybody walking by the glass.
"Alrighty, hope you're hungry."
While the molded chewed on the first larger piece, Charlie prepared the second with the drugs. On the other side of the glass, Ethan watched, eyeless and head tilted to one side.
"Be a good boy", Charlie admonished him. "These will make you better."
Surprisingly, Ethan chirped and happily swallowed all the pieces that Charlie tossed him.
"Well done", he praised the molded.

"Morning, Charlie", Chris yawned as he entered the hall. He had spent half the night over Mia's notes on the security footage.
"Look who's here", the young man said to Ethan and pointed at the captain.
An eye plopped open at the back of the maw and darted over in Chris' direction. Ethan rose from his squatted position and walked a little closer to the wall. Somehow, Chris felt like the transformed man was starting to recognize him in any capacity, though how much he could remember by now was anyone's guess. At the very least, he seemed to trust the communication specialist enough to swallow all food he served him and subsequently the drugs hidden in it. Considering he spent most of the time eyeless, he probably distinguished the humans around by smell, which would also explain why he was so reluctant to accept food from anybody else's hands - unless gloved - and even seemingly considered attacking when Chris tried to throw in some food. Among the Hound Wolves, this had caused some amusement and questions whether the molded remembered him well enough to be pissed at him even when reduced to this form. Chris had pretended to ignore them, but this was honestly unnerving.
If this was true, then things were bound to take a turn for the worse, sooner or later.