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The last thing Zachary would remember clearly was the mauling - one moment an unsuspecting walk in the jungle, the next, claws and fur and red... then black.

There have been moments of consciousness intersperced in there, steady beeping noises, figures bustling around you, white sterile walls and the smell of antiseptic.

However, only now does your consciousness really fully return to you. You're lying in a hospital bed, an IV in an arm, several bandages, and a machine hooked up to you. You're not restrained, but the white room, lack of anything sitting out on the cabinets, and metal door boast that while you could get up, there isn't far that you could go. One wall also holds a suspiciously large 'mirror', where you can see yourself, lying, looking rather washed-out.

However, despite the situation, you are feeling surprisingly well.

Zach’s eyes fluttered open. His first impression was that everything had gone blindingly white. In many cases of theology, this meant he had little more to worry about as far as his life was concerned. But as he blinked the blurriness away, several things came into sharp focus around the room. Mundane things, like a door. This was not death. No, it seemed much more like a hospital… he’d been in a hospital before, many times.

With consciousness came memory, and fear. Maybe he was hurt more badly than he thought! After attempting to take an inventory of his injuries, he looked around the room again with a clearer head. The adjacent wall was not really a wall at all. A… mirror? Mirrors didn’t belong in hospital rooms. It was apparent his reflection didn’t look to be in the best shape, and he certainly felt the same way. But for what he thought he’d been though, he wasn’t in as much agony as he’d expected to be. Perhaps what had happened had become exaggerated in his mind by his own fear.

Zach was on his own in the room for perhaps ten minutes before the sound of quick footsteps came up on his room, and the door opened quickly, admitting an all-too-familiar white-haired man. While he looked to be operating on little sleep judging from the circles under his eyes, unlike a few times you've seen him in the past, Sabin has an edge about him, a spark of manic enthusiasm. He was dressed in his darker clothing, sporting his signature top-hat.

"Zachary!" Sabin called out as he walked in and closed the door more softly behind him. "It has been a while since we last met. Too bad it has to be under such conditions. I ... must apologize on the behalf of the staff. Things got out of hand far too quickly with.... your attack. Had I been monitering the cameras, I assure you that this would not have happened - and the man who was responsible for watching has been warned."

By the time Sabin had arrived Zach had forced himself up to a slouching sitting position of sorts, trying to quell the dizziness that had come with it by holding his head in his hands. Between his simian and scaly fingers he spotted the exhausted but perky Sabin, dressed for Halloween as usual. He let his hands drop. “Oh. You,” he croaked. His throat felt rather dry. It was just starting to dawn on him that he had been asleep far longer than just a day or two as he’d first suspected.

He waved his right hand dismissively at the doctor as guilt wrenched his innards with a cold grip. If nothing else, he could remember the photographs of Aubrey’s mauled body and the accusations that had solidified into fact over the three months since the incident. “It’s… it’s not the first time that someone's done this attacking stuff.” He looked down at his other hand, then back, worry etched on his face. “Was that thing that attacked me another islander? You haven’t been able to, ah… fix whatever makes us violent?”

The dizziness was slowly dissipating. “Uh, thanks?”

"Yes me." Sabin retorted, crossing his arms and striding up to the side of his bed, checking on his charts and glancing over his bandages. "And no... it's not the first time there was an attack as you are more than aware of. Though this time there is not the electrical condition to blame the injury on... just the dense foliage." Sabin quickly closed his mouth after that, realizing that that alone was probably too much information in the hands of an islander.

"And.... yes... unfortunately. We're... looking into it... but Chubbs has not handled his last change well. Nor does he take a very high regards to me. But.... I believe that we are working on something that might be able to help him."

Sabin tapped one of Zach's bandages... lightly. "Speaking of... how are you feeling? The moniters showed that your wounds had been treated and healing nicely, and that you were to a point that even if you decided to do something stupid like rail against your little room that you likely wouldn't tear yourself open again at least.

"“Mm,” he grunted, nervously trying to shuffle the Aubrey incident out of his mind. In the face of the plentiful animosity Zach had encountered over the past few months, the doctor seemed awfully nice in comparison. He did a quick mental double-take. Dr. Duvert, nice? The two words weren’t supposed to belong in the same sentence! Maybe it was just the dizziness. Hopefully.

“Oh… I see. Well.” His scaly tail flicked a bit behind him. It felt like it had been a long time since he’d been subject to a change. Hopefully they’d fix that by the time he had to. He didn’t want another incident ever again. A time that he prayed was far, far in the future. “Wait, ‘Chubbs’? That guy… that was the guy who…?” He didn’t want to finish. He held his hands up with his fingers bent slightly, mimicking the bear monster’s long claws, and swiped them downward a little.

Zach recoiled a little from the poke. “Er, fine. Fine. Can’t complain too much.” The fact that he was pretty healed was good news, but he glanced over at the doctor at the last statement, lightly hugging his arms to himself at the thought of opening some of his wounds up again. “Um… why would I do that?”

"Well, it's just a precaution for the most part. Though some people don't take too kindly to confinement, even if it's for their own good. But yes... Chubs.... David MacCraken, technically. His claws have gotten rather.... long. Moreau ordered his serum developed as a test of the potential for the animal DNA to overshadow a human's nature. And... I did oblige with it's creation, but I think Moreau may not have quite thought out to the fullest extent the precise repercussions. Though, I suppose on the other end, he will provide a good canidate to test a reversal of sorts. Ideal, in that he is displaying the most volatile behaviors on a consistent basis, now. So if it works on him, then hopefully it should be able to work on just about anyone." Sabin gesticulated, explaining the research as if the topics being dicussed were perfectly normal.

"However, in your case, at least it seems that your volatile moments seem to be linked with the post-transformation time, when your hormones are in flux, and the DNA is.... settling into its new state of being. I'm glad to see that between these brief episodes you have been quite... well... 'sane'. A few minor incidents aside, I've been pleased with your progress."

"Which... brings me to my next topic!" Sabin bore a very enthusiastic grin. "It's... about that time you see. And with you already being here in the labs, and your injuries being to the point where it's not a tax on your system, plus the generally regenerative properties of the change itself, now is an ideal time to give you your next injection. It might even - and here's the neat part! - allow your wounds to not leave a scar! Isnt' that fascinating? Not to mention, of course, seeing how accurately draconic you wind up."

He nodded with an uneasy expression as Sabin spoke about the man ‘Chubbs’. Like an animal. He didn’t care to know much about the guy, seeing as on all the occasions they’d met the bear monster had done his damnedest to kill him. Still… he couldn’t deny that Moreau and his research had successfully brought them to that philosophical level. “I see,” he muttered.

“Well. Depends what you consider sane.” He rocked back and forth a little, arms still crossed. Was it sane to be consumed in a moment of terror with the need to flap his wings and fly? “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I really don’t.”

“Oh. Oh no. No…” It felt like his stomach had sunk into his feet. No wonder he felt the man had been driving at something. “C-can’t it wait? A year or two. Or ten. Please!”

"I know you don't Zachary. And I'm glad of that. Your serum was never intended to have psychological consequences. Just.... the obvious physical manifestations. Though, of course, as you and all the islanders are well aware, none of them yet have been entirely free of some degree of mental altercations."

He shook his head, though there wasn't a mote of disappointment in his face. If anything, Sabin was eager to see his project one step closer to his dream. "I'm sorry, Zachary. But the most healthy results we've found are when we keep to a close schedule of injections, with windows of times that we can administer your injection. Push it too long and there can be some.... consequences. Too early and the changes can overtax the system. But again, I think this would be hte best considering your wounds, and we need to keep you in the labs for the duration. But come on, Zachary, why draw out the inevetable? Get on with it, adjust to what you are becoming and become a healthier person for it. These stages... these are transient. You will have to learn to embrace what you are becoming!" His eye shone, truly believing in what he was saying.

“Heh. I’ll take my chances with those ‘consequences.’” He wrung his hands. After a suitably long pause, he hung his head, hair falling over his face. “I’m scared! I don’t want to do this again. Every time… every time something bad happens. “And these changes… they hurt. A lot. You have to have figured that out by now, watching us all the time… or most of the time.”

His eyes scanned the rapturous expression. No matter what he said there’d be no convincing the doctor to wait. As soon as he closed his eyes, they’d simply p***k him and there’d be nothing he could do. He looked down at the bedsheet and contemplated. It was like putting off a shot, really. A shot that turned him into a red lizard monster. It was, as Sabin put it, inevitable. He looked up again, sadly. “You know what? You’re right. Go ahead then.” At least he was guaranteed not to go on a rampage this way. That had to count for something.

"Ohhh... I don't think you want to do that. Namely because it can involve cancer, cell degeneration and ultimately your cells all just kind of.... rupture. Not a pleasant sensation and you should see the lab animals that revealed that information to us. Fortunately for the islanders, we worked out most of the kinks."

Sabin smiled and waved his hand flippantly. "But that's besides the point. You're getting your injection now because there's no point in waiting and because I'm excited to see what happens." Sabin was perfectly forthright, smiling pleasantly.

He beamed at the permission, withdrawing a small case from his pockets. "And Excellent - glad to hear that. You're making a good decision, and avoiding the unnecessary buzzing." He made to unlock it, typing in a keycode to the canister. "Just so you know, we are being watched, so no funny business. But you wouldn't do that." Sabin smiled genially, extracting the needle, and slipping it deftly into his pre-existing, right arm.

There was a hot tingle as the serum coursed through his bloodstream, and Sabin replaced the needle in the canister, closing it.

"Last time, your serum took effect .... surprisingly quickly. So, if you don't mind, I'll be leaving you here and watching. Once you come to your senses, feel free to speak up and request anything you might need."

“Oh. That’s… that’s a very good deterrent. But when you say ‘most of the kinks’…?” Zach grimaced. “Actually, never mind. This time I don’t want to know.”

The mention of a buzzing just served to confirm what he’d suspected. If he’d been someone inherently more vicious, he didn’t think they’d be offering him the choice. He was too cowardly to do anything but plead. His eyes traveled to Sabin’s jugular. Somewhere deep down was a swirl of a very gory thought, but all in all he felt… nothing. The violent behavior wasn't him after all. The man must have seen him looking though, because the warning startled Zach. Had his intention looked that obvious? “Oh, uh, of course not… OW!” The needle had not been as painful as he’d been expecting, but he was going to dramatize it like hell anyhow. It almost felt like it had been burning. He tried to delicately cover the stuck spot with his scaly hand, wincing.

“O..okay…” He sucked in a breath. That same feeling in his gut was freezing up his lungs too. He hoped he wasn’t visibly shaking. The changes were certainly inevitable now.

Sabin barked an all-too jovial laugh as he exited the room at Zach's hesitant and retracted question. "You'll be fine." He paused before closing the door behind him. "We'll keep an eye on you, and you won't be able to hurt anyone. I know that you don't want that."

And with that, Sabin closed the door - while not hard, the resounding metal thud followed by a small series of clicks resounded that Zach was indeed very much confined to the room.

Sabin, meanwhile went behind the mirror to watch.

As promised, it didn't take long for the hot flashes and sweats to begin. Zach's arm ached as the serum took up residence and quickly spread throughout his body, invading his cels and begining their work in replacing strings of DNA.

There was no clock, and no measurable way to calcuate time. It wasn't long, but the anticipation certainly would draw out the pre-change period for Zach. But finally, it began, with the scales spreading out over his arm where he was injected, emerging from beneath layers of skin from his ridges on his back and outwards, all down the front of his legs, and even encroaching up his neck and over his head. As it did so, his hair began to losen, a few strands falling out. Meanwhile, the ridge along your back grows further, hardening and thickening.

Your muscles begin to spasm, some bulging, some pulling out along with a change in your build - your torso stretches and lengthens, becoming more flexible, and then in a searing pain, your neck begins to lengthen as well, as does your tail - the latter puling out sinewy, covered in scales and tight snake-like muscles, whipping erratically as it grows painfully.

You scream, there's no way around that, and as you do your jaws stretch out, pulling your skin along with it as your teeth grow and change, becoming more suited to ripping and tearing like a wild feline. Falling to your hands and knees, the bandages rip off, and to your amazement, you DO see that many of the injured areas are the same areas that have gotten new scale growth from beheath the skin, the old skin sloughing off, leaving new, somewhat sensitive, but uninjured smooth scales.

YOu don't have long to ponder this, however, as your wings and neck frills strain, the bones pushing out longer and larger, stretching the webbing as it seems your body is rapidly trying to keep up with the skin growth to accomodate the webbing - but you would SWEAR that it feels like your skin, especially down your back, is going to RIP at the tension of the growing structures. But, luckily for you, it doesn't.

Finally, just as it is finishing... there is one last searing pain in... your netherregions as there is a distinctly painful, splitting sensation.

The clicks from the other side of the door were disconcerting, but there was nothing he could do. Still quivering, he fell back lightly onto the hospital bed and tried his best to meditate with deep, shaking breaths. It wasn’t long before the temperature in the room seemed to creep up. He shivered. It was like being sick with the flu at twenty times the normal speed. He knew well enough what it meant, but resigned himself to lying down in the hope that maybe he’d fall asleep before it could start.

No such luck. Gradually, he felt an itch. It started at the inflamed little bump where he’d been injected, and began to spread like an invisible rash. Eyes still closed in a failed attempt to beat the clock, he rubbed at the encroaching itch on his arm before it zipped down his back and across his legs and neck. The annoying itch was giving way to smooth scales underneath, bubbling up as though they’d been hiding under onion layers of skin his entire life. His scalp now felt strange. One eye opened and looked around. This didn’t seem like it was going to be as horrible as he’d been expecting…

In a series of wrenching spasms he was proven wrong. His spine was pushing out in more fantastic ridges all down his back, sparking pain as it hardened. There was deliberate stretching of muscle and bone, scale and skin. And pain. Definitely pain. Yelling, he grappled for the blanket, throwing it off and trying to scramble off of the confining mattress while twitching uncontrollably shoulders to feet. Just when he’d slid to the polished floor on his smarting new belly scales, his vision was shot through with blinding white and he began screaming. His neck was stretching, grinding, out and away from its usual short perch above his shoulders until there were tears pouring out of both eyes. He was winded, choking. His tail was a frenzy of activity as it grew, slamming against the floor, the wall, the bed, and anything within its increasing radius of attack.

The screaming didn’t stop. He was climbing back up again, shoving his claws deep into the mattress beside him in his desperation to get upright. He swayed on his knees, then inn a fit of horror redirected his claws to his own face. The very bone of his face was growing outward with a vengeance, so painful that it almost rendered him senseless. Everything covering his jaws went with it, but not without a fight and some stretching. Several times he lashed his claws into the growing snout, but quickly discovered that without short nails it wasn’t helping his situation. The teeth kept pushing, inflaming the gums until blood seeped out from between the teeth. With each breath he pulled in he screamed. Red-tinged saliva dribbled out of his wide open mouth and he coughed fitfully, collapsing onto the smooth floor on hands and knees. With every move of his head a rain of scratchy strands of brown hair by the clumps were flung about, floating to the floor.

Thanks to the disturbing changes his muscles had been going through, bandages had loosened or even ripped apart. They fell off in rapid succession as he drew shaky breaths and tried to compose himself again. All that was under the bandages was scaly surface that hadn’t been there before, as smooth as though it had never been cleaved by a wolverine’s claws. His claws scrabbled against the floor as he suddenly lost his balance to new weight on his back and fell hard to the floor, banging his bony, jutting “chin” and screeching inhumanly between clenched, bloody teeth. Hair continued to fall like autumn leaves until there was none left to speak of crowning his head.

Now it was time for his wings to spasm. They had at first felt like strange little hands protruding from his back, out of nowhere, as he hadn’t been quite... aware… of his last transformation while it had happened. Now they were getting bigger, longer, stretched to their very limits even as webbing between threatened to split straight down to the finger joints, or rip his sides off. The frill ears were growing stiffly out from the sides of his face as he continued to bare his teeth. Just as the frill’s points had pushed out to their limit, there was a painful split down below. It wasn’t the pain – he’d had worse already – it was just that it was the last straw after everything that had happened. His yellow eyes rolled upward as his brain resigned itself to a nice, relaxing vacation of being unconscious and not having to deal with the situation below the waistline, and all other parts of him as well.

Sabin watched the whole grissly ordeal, enthralled by the process, his eyes hungry to eat up the spectacle, and frequently doublechecking to make sure that the cameras were indeed recording.

It was fascinating, the birth of a dragon... his dragon. His creation, HIS project. To Sabin, this process was beautiful, despite - or perhaps even enhanced by the screams of the tortured subject. Seeing the scales emerge from his flesh - strong, crimson scales in place of the weak, soft human flesh. Seeing the wings grow larger, stronger, his neck stretch out - someday to be a graceful arc - his tail long and lashing. He was witnessing something that he had dreamed of - in one fashion or another, all of his life. Even considering that the last time Zach changed, it had run Sabin off the road and left him with a nasty shiner (among other consequences) - AND, something Sabin would never breathe word to Aubrey, Sabin's biggest regret was that because of the outage, it had been lost to posterity - no recordings existed of Zach's previous trasnformation.

This time, however he could savor it in person, and see it again later. While Zach was not yet complete, it was undenyable to the folklorist what he was, what he very nearly embodied, and how close Sabin was to his success. While he may not ever be able to spit fire (Moreau had flat out nixed Sabin's idea of implanting bombadier beetle glands in Zachary's mouth or throat: too "Dangerous" he had said.) and while it was unlikely that even strong wings would be able to lift this beautiful beast from the ground... to any onlooker... he would be a Dragon, real, and in the flesh. Not some 'komodo' lizard who dared to carry the grandoise name... but a creature sculped by fantasy and imagination of almost every human culture. Sabin watched as the screaming man finally fell unconscious, wiping a tear of joy from his eye.

***
While Zachary is unconscious, he would be administered a shot of morphine (after the fact), a large bottle (along with a bowl, just in case) of water would be left, as well as a full plate of hamburgers, hotdogs, and a few dead, uncooked rats for variety.