Two things, first this is fanfiction and has nothing to do with canon Whateley.
Second, the happy gas used by Glitch, is a drug that works extremely fast, and when something similar to it was put into rats and they could give themselves a dose of it by pressing a button, they pressed it as often as they would forget to eat and sleep. Everything that occurs due to an addiction from it is real.
So yeah, don't modify your body to put out an aerosol spray of the stuff.

Mississauga, Canada
August 10th, 2007

The next several days were interesting. Becky would come over to my house almost every morning, then I'd go outside in the afternoon with Rachael. It was a nice little life, just what I needed before heading into the fortress of my enemies. To help Becky relax I would give her three or four doses of happy gas each time, she seemed to get more agitated every day which had me worried, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it, so making sure she was happy seemed best.

“This room is too messy. Let me straighten it up for you,” Becky said, looking around my room. She'd only been there for about ten minutes, knocking on my door as soon as Mom had left for her job.

I had to admit it wasn't perfect, but the bed was made, there weren't any clothes on the floor, and the books were on the bookshelf. “What's wrong with it?”

“Look at your books, they're all out of order. And you have pens and stuff all over your desk. They need to be put away properly. Alphabetical order is the best, that way you can find everything you need quickly. I can do it in a few minutes,” she said standing up to do just that.

“Becky,” I said standing up to stop her. She was really irritated for some reason so I gave her a small dose of the happy gas. “Calm down. Relax, let's just sit and talk. Ok?”

She started to push me away, but then a happy smile appeared on her face, the wild look in her eyes disappeared. “Are you sure? I can do it really easily.”

“I'm sure.”

“Ok, maybe later,” she said sinking into my arms. “You have really nice eyes.”

“Thank you. Have you been feeling ok?” I asked.

She pushed me down and sat on my lap. “Why do I always feel so good around you.”

Playing with her hair, I gave her a winning smile. “Because I'm such a wonderful person, maybe?”

She kissed me. “Probably. When I'm not around you I can't seem to sit still, I feel like I'm missing something. Strange isn't it?”

Becky had been becoming more and more open and inviting since we'd started talking, and now she was grinding into me. I felt my body reciprocating the feelings. The one time I'd had sex with Neal had been fun, but I was interested in seeing what it was like to have sex with a girl and she certainly wanted it. I returned the kiss, wrapping my around her, pulling her in close. “We had something special, now we have it again.”

I was shoved backwards onto the bed. “We were waiting for your birthday, before we'd go all the way,” Becky said climbing on top of me, her skirt spreading out over me, as she pressed herself against my crotch. “We missed it by a few months, so I think should make up for lost time.”

She pulled out a condom, watching to see my reaction.

My hands went up under her shirt. “If you're ready, I'm more then ready.”

Her mouth found mine again, from the way her tongue pushed its way into my mouth she wanted to taste every inch of my lips and tongue. I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

**

“What's wrong with you?” Rachael demanded, when I went over to her apartment that afternoon.

“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.

She rolled her eyes, which she usually did when I was missing something she thought was obvious. “I heard you having sex with Becky. You're dating Neal already. Do they know you're going away, or that you're doing it with someone else?”

“I just like to make people happy. And she was asking me, I didn't start anything. And Neal seemed a little down and when I offered he became so happy. If I help a lot of people who I can make happy, why not?” I asked.

She shook her head, “That's called cheating, and leading them on. How do you think they'll feel when you leave?”

“Cheating? But we're not playing games. And I never told them that I was only going to be here until September. It's just sex, why worry about it?” I asked. Honestly if people stopped worrying about sex and things like that, and just did what was fun they would be a lot happier.”

“That's not how we think about things. People, especially girls worry about that a lot. When you go off to rescue your master, will you come back here?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. “I can't risk them finding either of us again.”

“Right. If you make them feel REALLY close to you, they're going to feel really sad when you disappear, a little like how you feel about missing your master,” she said.

I sat back in shock. Was that really how humans thought? Was I setting Neal and Becky up to hurt as much as I did? “I... are you sure?”

“Yes. Go look it up if you don't believe me,” Rachael said.

“I will. If you're right, I didn't know.”

“I should have thought of it sooner. I'm helping you, so look it up and if I'm right, apologize and tell her you're not ready for it yet, but you still really like her,” she told me. “So how are you doing with your video games?”

Happy for a change of topic, since I wasn't ready to deal with that social problem just then, I pulled out an I-phone, and pressed some buttons. “I got it all done a few days ago, I'm looking at how to sell it right now. I think I'll have to get someone who knows about selling stuff to help me out.”

She got on the bed beside me, eagerly looking at the screen. “How do you play?”

“I kept it easy, and quick, like you said.” I began to demonstrate. “See you have to find matching blocks, at least three of them in a row, I made them really colourful. And you can change directions when you're drawing the line. And you have to break a certain number on each level to free a dog.”

“Can I try?”

Handing it over I watched as she played for about ten minutes. Once she was done, she handed it back. “It's not bad.”

“How can I make it better?”

Rachael played it for another five minutes. “The blocks are boring. Make them into something interesting. Fruit, crystals, candy, something other then blocks. Some music might be nice to. And when you finish a level, don't just show a dog. You could show the dog in a cage or something and with each point the cage disappears a little, then when you win it runs around all happy.”

I nodded. “I can do that. Those are great ideas! I'll work on that tonight. Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome. Now lets go do something fun,” she said dragging me off the bed.

**
August 11, 2007

Becky was at my door almost as soon as Mom had left. She was shaking and looked a little sick. “Becky ar-”

She slammed the door shut and her lips were on mine before I could finish. I was so startled we fell backwards, onto the floor. My shirt was ripped open, buttons flying everywhere.

“I need you,” she said, pulling off her clothes. “I couldn't sleep last night, I was so itchy, and I had to rearrange my room, it was all wrong. I only feel right when I'm with you.”

She was scaring me a little, so I gave her a dose of happy gas. A smile came to her face, and her mouth almost seemed to form a vacuum over mine. Pulling up her dress, I realized she wasn't wearing panties underneath them.

Pushing her off, I realized that something was wrong, and after reading lots of advice columns for teen girls, I knew that Rachael was right. It was silly of people to react like that, but that was just one more reason to free Master and escape back to the comforts of the computer. Still I had to deal with this problem before I could do anything.

“Becky. I think we made a mistake having sex the other day,” I managed to say, before she was on top of me licking my lips. “BECKY!”

She sat back, tears welling up in her eyes. “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong!”

“No. You're great. But how about we just talk? Please!”

She sat on my lap, her nose practically at my lips. “You talk, I'll listen.”

With no idea about what was going on, I started talking about anything I could think of that wouldn't give me away. She hung on my every word, breathing deeply, a contented look on her face.

**

Mississauga, Ontario,
Early morning, August 16th, 2007

“Hi Becky,” I said into the phone early that morning.

“Sam! Hi, I'm just about to head over. I can't stop thinking about you, I just need to hear you talking and I'll feel better,” she said.

I gulped, she'd been worrying me for the last few days. She was talking less, more concerned about making sure that everything was nice and orderly in the room and just sitting on my lap listening to me talk, sniffing the air as it left my mouth. “Well actually I'm going out to do something. So can we meet later, like tomorrow or the next day?”

“WHAT?! NO! I need to talk to you. I really, really need to talk, you make me feel good! I don't feel right if I'm away from you. I'm coming ov-”

I slammed the phone down, my hands shaking. I didn't know what know what was wrong, but something wasn't right. If I was really human I might know what was wrong, but I wasn't and I didn't know how to find out what it was. I had to prepare for Whateley, making programs, using what information I had to plan escape routes and other things. It was better to just avoid Becky until it was time to go.

Putting on my shoes, I left quickly. It was better to avoid contact with her if possible. Easier was better.

That Afternoon

“So what do you guys want to do?” I asked, putting my arms over Neal and Rachael's shoulder. We were sitting at the drop in center, the day was cloudy with dark ominous clouds, and it was too hot and humid to want to do much of anything. Becky hadn't shown up that morning for some reason, so my schedule was out of whack and everything was moving along fairly nicely with my plans, so there was nothing I needed or really even wanted to do.

“I don't know. I think its going to rain later,” Rachael said, sounding as bored as I felt.

Neal yawned, before coming up with something. “How about a movie?”

Since that actually sounded like a good idea, I reached down and goosed him discretely. “I'm up for that. My treat.”

Rachael nodded in agreement. “Ok, but I don't want anything that you need to think about. Today is my non-thinking day.”

“Too bad Transformers ended a week ago, that is the perfect mindless movie,” Neal said, patting my ass. “Do you want to call a taxi, or take a bus?”

That was easy. “Taxi. I don't want to be stuffed into a bus smelling everyone's armpits.”

I'd just finished calling a taxi, and we were working up the energy to stand up when there was a commotion from the entrance. “Where is the fucking bastard?!”

I was on my feet as soon as I heard the yell, it was Bobby. He and Frank came barging in both wielding baseball bats, and totally enraged. “You fucking freak! What did you do to her?!” Bobby yelled, as Frank guarded his back.

“What did I do to who?”

“Becky!” he roared. “She's acting crazy! Begging for you, shaking, screaming. Her parents had to lock her in her room this morning and called an ambulance. WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!”

It was hard to breath, why were they blaming me? What had I done? “I didn't do anything! What did the doctors say?”

“You fucking liar! Were you giving her drugs so she'd like you again?”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” I heard the people in charge trying to restore order, and someone was calling the police.

Bobby didn't believe me. He swung his bat as hard as he could at my head. My arm went up instinctively to block it, there was a crack, and I was screaming. My entire arm was numb, the bone was fractured. Rachael and Neal screamed and dove for cover.

Cutting off the pain in my arm, I tried to grab Bobby, pushing my body as hard as I could. He didn't have a chance to stop me, he didn't have to. Frank was ready, clubbing my shoulder sending me to the ground with a crash. They started hitting me, aiming for my head and stomach. Dazed and feeling the damage piling up, I lashed out with my foot, taking the feet out from under Frank, who fell right on top of me.

Bobby was still trying to break my head open, and the arm I was using to protect myself was virtually useless. Pushing myself forward with my unhurt arm, my teeth closed on the side of his leg. I tasted blood, and kept biting until my teeth clicked together. He jerked away screaming in agony.

By then Frank was back on his feet, I didn't have a chance to move before he stomped as hard as he could on my knee. I heard it go pop.

Rachael came running up, pushing Frank away, yelling something I couldn't make out. He punched her, sending her to the floor, blood erupting from her nose.

There was a animal like roar of sheer rage from somewhere, and everything went black.

**

My fist was a centimeter from Becky's face. I was breathing hard, shaking furiously. The room was empty, a wall had a hole in it, the furniture was bloody. Frank and Bobby were lying on the floor they were conscious, barely. They wouldn't be moving anytime soon and they'd need casts. I wondered briefly what had happened to them, when Becky grabbed me, smiling deliriously.

“Sam, Sam, Sam!” She was was shaking like a leaf, her eyes were sunken in and bloodshot. “I need you. I really need you. I couldn't see you this morning. My parents kept me away. I need to kiss you. It makes me feel better. I-I cleaned everything in my room. It was out of order, and I felt a little better. But I didn't see you this morning. My entire day was ruined. I have to keep things in order. And it wasn't in order. I ran away. If I'm with you, we can plan everything and it won't be out of order again.”

She started kissing me, while still trying to talk.

My brain didn't seem to be working. I couldn't understand what was going on, and even with the pain dampened in my body, I felt broken and battered. I pushed Becky away, with only one arm since the other one wasn't working.

“Becky, I think you're sick.”

“I am,” she agreed. “But now that I've kissed you I'll feel better. I always do after I kiss you. It feels so nice. And then we can make love and I'll feel even better. You're just so nice, and you taste so good.” She started kissing me again.

After a minute she stopped. “Why isn't it working? I don't feel better yet. Why isn't it working?”

“What are you talking about? I think we should get you and them to a hospital.”

“NO! You need to make me feel better. Maybe if we have sex.” She started taking her cloths off.

How could she think about that when her friends were lying on the floor with broken bones. When I was beaten and covered in blood. I shook my head and realized that her lips were smeared with blood as well, Bobby's from my biting him and my own from someone hitting me. This wasn't right. There was no way this was right.

Something in my brain clicked. She wanted the happy gas.

I fell to my knees, ignoring the tearing sound I heard. I'd known she wasn't acting properly, I'd been worried about her. So I'd given her more of it. And then she'd acted worse so I'd given her more. She tried to push me down, pulling at my shirt, her naked breasts bouncing in front of my eyes. There were police sirens in the distance.

“Becky, stop,” I said. She ripped my shirt off. “STOP!” I cried.

“No! You'll make me feel happy. I feel so good when I'm with you!” she said, rubbing herself against me.

I could barely see through the tears streaming down my face. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” I pushed her away from me as gently as possible, and ran towards the fire exit at the back of the building. She ran after me. I cut every pain receptor and picked up speed, ignoring the grating sound coming from my knee. People stared at me as I ran across a street to get into another alley, I didn't care. I needed to get away from everything, especially Becky's wails, that kept ringing in my ears after I'd left her far behind.

**
Toronto, Ontario
Late night, August 14th, 2007

I sat in an alley, wearing second hand clothes that didn't fit well, stolen from a clothes drop off bin, holding a sharp knife I'd bought from a pawn shop, thinking about what I'd done.

I'd connected to the internet through my Iphone and did some research. It was quick and sloppy, but I studied exactly what my happy gas could do to a person, OCD, addiction, irrational behaviour, suicidal thoughts, tremors, emotional disorders, seizures, death. Giving something like it to rats made them starve to death, so desperate to get more they forgot to eat. And I'd given it to her directly how many times.

What had I been thinking?

My pupils widened so I could look at my fists. The knuckles were bruised and one or two were broken. I didn't know when that had happened, it must have been between the time of Rachael getting hit and Becky snapping me awake. My mind showed me the images of Bobby and Frank, their moans filled my ears. I'd done that. I didn't remember doing that, but I'd broken their arms, smashed their faces, snapped their legs.

And Becky.

I couldn't believe what I'd done to her.

She'd been smart, considerate, patient, and kind. And I'd fucked with her mind. I didn't know if she really wanted to have sex with Sam, or if it was was one of those irrational thoughts that my drugs had caused. I was suppose to make people happy, not hurt them. I was a love program. I wasn't made to hurt someone. I really was a monster. A disgusting, horrible monster.

How could Master love me now?

How could anyone love me?

My eyes went to the knife. It was sharp.

I was dangerous. Everything I'd read talking about the dangers of AI's. The Palm Act. How AI's weren't rational, a danger to humans. I'd proved it all true.

I was made to love.

Love was crazy.

I was crazy.

The knife went to my throat. I deserved to die. I was a glitch in the system. A dangerous program. I'd proven that beyond all reasonable doubt. I should have let the Monster kill me. The sharp blade dug into my skin, blood dripped down my neck.

My Masters face appeared before my eyes. He looked disgusted with me. With what I'd become.

The knife went in deeper, slicing towards my throat.

I stopped, the blade actually touching my windpipe.

There was only one person who could save Master. No one else might even be looking. I was a monster, but maybe he needed a monster to save him?

For Master I'd stay alive. But after that...

After that I could die.

Taking the knife from my throat, I raised it to my lips. Ignoring the damage I was causing, my broken arm rose up pulling my lower lip out, the sack of happy gas was in the corner of my lower lips, about the size of a thumb nail.

The blade sliced downwards. Blood welled up.

I wouldn't hurt anyone like that again.

**
Dark Wind Residence

Dark Wind was working late, looking over a potential deal to steal some magical cuff links from a major crime lord. It didn't look like a good bet, but she wasn't about to turn it down out of hand. Her Word program suddenly opened up.

'Dark Wind, this is Glitch. I need help and I'm willing to pay.'

She groaned. Fubar had asked her to let them know if the student contacted her again, and the MIT info had made her a pretty penny, but she didn't really want to deal with the kid again. Especially after learning that she was really a he.

'What's the deal?' she typed back.

'I need to get out of Toronto without getting caught by police, and I need to get to Whateley on time. I also need medical help. I'll give you 500,000 dollars.'

That was a good chunk of change, she wondered where the kid had come up with that kind of cash. 'What happened? And how badly hurt are you?'

'I got into a fight with two of my old friends. They were badly injured, and another friend was drugged. I didn't mean to do it. I have a badly broken left arm, a badly damaged knee with severe cartilage damage, three broken knuckles, numerous bruises, a deep slash to my throat, and a badly cut lip about the size of a thumbnail.'

That was pretty serious. 'Where are you right now?'

'Near Yonge St. And Eglinton Ave.'

'I'll get in touch with someone who will take you to a doctor. Don't ask questions when you get there. I'll contact some other people to see about the rest. Stay on my computer while I make the call.'

She didn't wait for his response, simply picked up her phone, attached it to a gadget and out of sight of the webcam dialed a number. “Yo, Billy says hi,” she said as soon as the other side picked up the phone.

“What do you need?” a woman asked.

“Got a friend in Toronto, who needs some major help. Shouldn't be any emergency surgery. You'll need a lot of stitches, he has badly broken arm, a really fucked up knee, a slashed throat, and a nasty gash on his lip. Apparently he has a slow regeneration.” she said.

“Alright, it will cost you.”

“Got it covered. Send me the bill and I'll wire you the cash.”

“Where is he?” she asked.

Dark Wind passed along the address.

“Tell him to wait for the blue car, it will park beside the Tim Hortons and honk twice. If he doesn't get in within a minute he's on his own.”

“Got it. Thanks.” The phone was hung up before she could finish. Turning back to the computer she typed in the information for Glitch.

That done, she headed downstairs for her special phone. Fubar picked up after a couple of rings. “Hello, Louis speaking.”

“Fubar it's Dark Wind. I got another message from Glitch, he's in trouble and I'm helping him out, but I'm not sure what you want to do next,” she said without any pleasantries.

“What happened?”

She wished there was more to tell him, but there hadn't been much time to get more info. “Apparently he got into a bad fight with two of his old friends, don't know why. He says he's badly hurt, nothing fatal, but moving has to be hell, his attackers got it worse. And somehow a girl was drugged, I don't know what's up with that, I'll ask him when he's in a safe spot. I'm guessing he doesn't want to go to a regular hospital, so I have some associates picking him up and taking him to a doctor that doesn't ask questions.”

“Good work. I'll talk to Carson, and see what we can do about this. We'll have our people find out what the police know and what the witnesses are saying. Can you stay in touch with Glitch and learn his side of the story?” Fubar asked.

“Yeah, I'm in between jobs right now. He can probably stay with the doctor for a week, and then I have a safe house that I'm not using. I'm definitely off your Christmas card list now aren't I?”

“Of course not. I have a nice lump of coal with your name on it already.”

She chuckled at his perfect deadpan response. “I'm off to bed now. I guess I need to set up a babysitter for after school, and make a trip into Toronto. Goodnight.”

“Good luck.”

**

The blue car that came to pick me up drove around for almost an hour, finally coming to a stop in a welding shop, after making so many twists and turns even I couldn't remember remember the route we'd taken. Two big men opened the door and surprisingly gently pulled me out, and deposited me into a wheelchair. We headed to a place in the back of the shop, where a crane had lifted a stack of steel bars that had to weigh at least five hundred kilo's off of the ground. There was a narrow ramp leading downwards, and a thick plate of steel lying flat beside the opening. They wheeled me down down quickly, and as soon as we reached the bottom, there was an awful sound of metal scraping against cement, plunging us into darkness. Another booming thud let me know the pipes were back in place. Lights came on dimly lighting the hallway.

I was glad I couldn't feel any pain at the moment. My body was sending back messages of catastrophic damage especially around my arm and knee. My throat wasn't much better, and despite my best efforts, the gaping hole in my lip was still leaking blood. I'd already sent messages throughout his system to fix the injuries, focusing on the most dangerous wound, which was my throat. The other injuries were painful, but with my jugular and windpipe practically exposed, it wouldn't take much for the wound to kill me. At least there wasn't much chance of an infection setting in considering my hyped up immune system.

We walked for over ten minutes, with a couple of twists and turns, hallways and doors appearing almost at random, until we reached a vault like door. It opened up smoothly and we entered into a spotless room with a decontamination shower, a dozen sinks hooked up to some plastic container, a series of lockers, white towels wrapped in plastic and gowns, a stretcher was waiting for us.

“Don't move much,” the biggest man said. “We're going to take off your clothes and if you move much you'll cause even more damage.”

“Ok,” I whispered.

They lifted me onto the stretcher. My clothes were cut off and thrown away but my knife, wallet and shoes went into a locker. They turned on the water and began sponging the blood, sweat and dirt off of me. The water was foamy, making my flesh tingle, a single swipe left my skin gleaming, and it dried in seconds. To clean my busted arm and dislocated knee, they simply poured some of the solution over it, slowly enough that it wouldn't have added much to the pain if I was letting myself feel any.

Finally I was wheeled into a room full of strange machines and vats of something I couldn't identify. Two people, a man whose surgical mask pushed out strangely, and a woman with identical blue hair and skin, both of whom were in surgical scrubs waiting. “Lets see what we've got,” the blue haired woman said.

Not bothering to ask me anything, a devise floated to the stretcher and slowly moved over my body, just centimeters above me. The two doctors talked to themselves peering intently at something that looked like a large, red Iphone.

The devise finished its job, floating back to its rack. The two doctors talked for another few minutes, while I rested my body. Finally they came to my side. “Young man, you're in luck!” the man said in a high pitched, whistling voice. “We can heal your body.”

“But,” the woman said in more normal tone, “we're not touching your brain. We don't know what your mutation did to it, but the chemicals and hormone levels are completely abnormal, and the compartmentalized structure of your brain is something we've never seen. If you die, we'd be willing to pay your family fifty thousand dollars to study your brain structure. We'd just need your head, they can bury the rest.”

“I'll think about it,” I said.

“Excellent! Now we're going to put you in the Carter-Wellington Medical Devise for a few days, and you'll come out perfectly fine,” the man said.

“Actually it's the Wellington-Carter Medical Devise, but everything else Carter said is correct,” the woman, presumably Ms. Wellington, said. “It's just like going to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll be well on your way to recovery.”

“No, no, no!” the assumed Dr. Carter, snapped. “The Carter-Wellington Medical Devise, will cure everything, except your brain. We don't want to try anything there, it would probably kill you. And someone,” he glared at his fellow doctor, “doesn't want to try the Carter Resurrection Devise.”

“That's because it's untried, uses faulty science and would probably summon a class X entity. I for one don't want to be associated with starting a zombie apocalypse!”

I raised my hand slightly. “Can you put me in the devise. I'm tired.”

“Oh yes. Sorry. We'll just wheel you inside and then you start to breath deeply. You'll go to sleep and wake up perfectly,” Dr. Carter looked at his partner and gave a whistling sigh. “Almost, perfectly fine.”

I was put in something that looked a bit like a long oval oven, resting on a metal grate that wasn't very comfortable. The hatch slammed shut and locked. I breathed normally, while something hissed. Then everything went black.

**

Toronto, Ontario
August 20th, 2007

I woke up feeling weak, tired, and sore, at some point during the healing process my pain receptors had started working again. Since the pain was all over my body and more of a dull ache then an intense, holy crap I'm broken, like it would have been before I entered the devise, I had to assume I was healed. A very dry tongue pressed against my lip, the flesh was hard, like cardboard where I'd cut out the damn drug, but at least the hole was healed.

My eyes were still closed, even with my eyes shut the light was too bright. My hand curled into a fist, muscles moved smoothly over top unbroken bones. The skin felt too tight on my arm, but that seemed to be the worst of my problems. Finally I bent my knee, nothing ground against each other, the kneecap was in the right position, the tendons and cartilage seemed to be in working order, but again their was the strange pulling on my skin.

“Huzzah! It was a complete success!” Dr. Carter shouted.

Dr. Wellington wasn't so happy. “Almost a complete success, there were side effects as usual. And you can't deny them, this is why we can't market it yet.”

“Oh please! So he has some skin rashes, they'll go away with some good moisturizer.”

“SKIN RASHES! Do you need glasses or a brain transplant?”

“He's healed. It's good enough, is he able to be moved?” Dark Wind asked.

“Well as long as he takes it easy for a week or two, eats properly, plenty of protein, and lots of sleep, he'll be fine,” Wellington said.

“And moisturizer for the scales,” Carson added. “He'll be fine.”

“Right. Give me a few minutes to get him up, and a wheelchair.” I heard two sets of footsteps leaving, and the argument about how healthy I was continued. “Glitch, are you able to move?”

I opened my eyes, and looked up to a woman who looked nothing like Dark Wind staring down at me through a big pair of sunglasses, blonde hair obscured her face. “Yeah. What did they mean by scales?” This short question made me wince, talking hurt.

She helped me sit up. “You've got some patches of scales were the damage was really bad. Take a look.”

Dark Wind took the blanket off of me, leaving me naked. The first thing I noticed was my knee, the whole thing plus a fair chunk of skin above and below it was covered in snake like skin. It was pinkish, but the fine glittering scales were impossible to miss. That was interesting. On my left arm from just below the knuckles to my elbow I had the same skin condition. I touched the skin noticing how cool it was to the touch, and unpleasantly dry. My fingers went to my neck where I'd cut it, there was the same hard, dry skin, but the scales also covered my jaw right up to my bottom lip.

This could be a problem.

“Come on lets get you dressed, dumb ass,” the supervillain said. A baggy t-shirt was forced over my head in no way gently, and a pair of underwear and pants were put on my lap. “You can put your own underwear on.”

With hands that didn't really want to work I put on the rest of my clothes. “Wh-what now?” I asked, trying to get some spit in my dry mouth.

She shoved a sports drink into my hand. “Drink this, and then sit there and shut up.”

I was paying five hundred thousand to be insulted? If I hadn't felt so bad I would have started complaining, but I really didn't think I deserved to say anything. I guzzled the drink down, and wished I had some more, my mouth still felt dry as dust.

Dark Wind grabbed my scaly arm, and took a bandage out of her bag. In a minute my arm and hand were neatly bandaged as if I had a long nasty cut. A neck brace went on next, it felt a little too tight, but I could handle it. Then came the make up, and a stern demand to not move an inch.

Ten minutes of work and silence later, she was done. “Wait here, I'm going to get you a chair.” I watched as she left, her heels seemed to click angrily on the tiled floor.

Sliding off the stretcher, I went to the side of the device. It was shiny enough that I could see my face clearly, and I had to admit my hired help had done a good job hiding the scales. From the neck brace up to my lip was a mass of red and black, looking like I'd had the skin peeled off in a nasty accident. I'd have to make sure I didn't wipe it off, but no one would think I wasn't a baseline.

My thoughts turned to my friends, Rachael and Neal. Had I hurt them during my rage? Were they scared of me now? Did Rachael tell the police about me? What about Sam's Mom? I wondered if I should contact them. Briefly I thought about Becky, Bobby and Frank, but just thinking about them made my chest tighten. I couldn't think about them, I had too much to do to let them distract me. I kept my eyes away from the clean, sharp scalpels that rested on metal tray ready to be used.

The door opened, and Dark Wind came in pushing a wheelchair. “Sit down, we're leaving.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, gingerly getting into the chair.

“A safe house, then I'm driving you to Whateley. Because of your stupidity they're letting you show up early as an emergency case.”

“They're still letting me come?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The police are looking for you for beating the two boys, and for possible drug dealing, but the assault looks like self defense, you were attacked first, and witnesses say you were badly messed up. As for the drugs, they can't figure out what drugs you gave your girlfriend,” she hissed, “so they mostly want you for questioning.”

I felt a bit of relief that I could keep trying to free my Master, but only a little. “Is Becky ok?”

“What did you do to her?”

“I-I kept getting people angry at me, so I made a type of happy drug that used the hormones and chemicals we make naturally and when she started crying I gave her some. It seemed to work, so I used it more often.” I started to cry. “I did- didn't kn-know that it would do that. I wouldn't have used it if I'd known. I didn't mean to hurt her.”

Dark Wind slapped the back of my head, hard. “Stop crying, you little prick. My sources say she got out of the hospital yesterday, but she's seeing a psychiatrist and probably will be for a long time. You got off too easy.”

I forced the tears to stop. I had to harden my heart, there was only the mission now, nothing else mattered. Two big men, with bulges under their jackets walked use down a series of long hallways and a confusing number of doors. We finally reached an elevator and Dark Wind made me stand up. I didn't worry about the way her fingers dug into my arm, I'd heal from the bruises. In the elevator, Dark Wind pressed six buttons and we started to rise.

“What do I call you in public?” I asked.

She eyed me with something that wasn't quite contempt. “Aunt Debra, and your name is Pat. Got it?”

“Got it Aunt Debra.”

The angry woman simply nodded her head, and stepped out as soon as the door opened. We walked through a crappy hotel lobby onto the street. Aunt Debra came to a beat up pick up truck. “Get in, I want to get to Montreal by evening.”

My stomach growled. “Can we get something to eat?” I asked quietly, a little afraid to speak.

“We'll stop at a Mcdonalds on the way out of the city. When we reach Kingston, we'll stop for a sit down meal. Don't worry I won't let you starve or get hurt, you paid me for the job.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

At the first stop light, she reached into her purse and handed me my blood stained wallet. “You're clothes and phone were a total loss, but here's your wallet, and the stuff you had in your hidden pockets. For a kid you've got a lot of bank cards.”

“They're for emergencies.”

“Well you'll want to be careful about using the one in your name. They can trace you through it,” she warned.

I nodded. “I know, it always had the least amount of money.”

We got some burgers and fries at McDonalds, and drove for hours in silence. She was in no mood to talk to me, and I was exhausted. Leaning back I fell asleep.

**

We stopped for half an hour at a roadside restaurant. We didn't say much, and we were on the road again quickly. I was feeling fairly rested, so I couldn't slip away into unthinking sleep. Instead I thought about what had happened. Dark Wind told me I'd been under for just under six days, but to my mind it had happened yesterday.

Becky was ok at least. At least as ok as I could hope for. I knew what a psychiatrist was, I knew that they were expensive and her family was far from being rich, I wondered how they were paying for everything. I wished that I could see her files to know how long they thought it would take for her to recover. Would she be able to go to school in a few weeks? Would the other kids bully her for what I had done?

Bobby and Frank were possibly better off. They had broken bones that would have them in casts for a while, but their parents wouldn't have to pay for most of it, and once the bones healed they could get on with their lives. They could also go to school. Still they had to be in a lot of pain, and there were somethings that their parents would have to pay for.

My mind replayed every second of my mistakes. I looked over it, thinking about what I had done wrong, what I could have done to change the outcome. Then I thought of how I could at least start making things better.

“Aunt Debra, I need a computer and net access at the safe house,” I said after hours of silence.

She didn't even glance at me. “Too bad kid, I'm keeping you safe, and that doesn't include playing games.”

“I don't play games. I need to transfer money around.”

“What for? You need more spending money?”

Pulling a debit card out of my wallet, I slapped it down on the dashboard. “There's ten thousand dollars in that account, buy me a good laptop and you can keep the change. I NEED to pay back my mistakes. Becky, Bobby and Frank will need help and I can't give it to them physically. I... I hope t-that a million dollars for Becky and half a million each for Bobby and Frank will help, they're families are poor.” I looked at her, pleading silently for a real answer and not another insult. “Is... is that a good start?”

Dark Wind looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “You think money will make things better?” she asked. She wasn't accusing me, or mocking me, it was an honest question.

“No,” I admitted. “But I don't know what else I can do. Everything got confusing. I just wanted to make people happy. I didn't think. And now it's all out of control, and I don't know what to do. I'd ask Rachael, but I don't know if she'll even talk to me. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

She pulled the car over to the side of the highway. “How did your throat get cut?”

I brought my knees up to my chin, letting the unshed tears fall. “I'm all alone. I hurt Becky and the others. I'm all alone now. I don't want to be alone anymore. I was alone for so long, and now I'm alone again.”

Getting out of the car, Dark Wind walked to the passenger side and opened my door, making me get out and walking off the road to sit on some clean grass. She let me put my head on her shoulder, hugging me as I cried. It felt good letting it all out.

She waited until I had the tears under control. “You fucked up kid. Will you do it again?”

I couldn't speak. I just shook my head.

Dark Wind gave me a squeeze. “Good. Than you're better than a lot of people who just keep fucking up in the exact same way. Helping their parents pay off some of their bills is a good start. But killing yourself is the cowards way out. You can't fix anything if you're dead. When I get you to Whateley, I'm going to recommend that you get some counseling.”

“Why? I wo-” I almost told her I wouldn't be there for long. “I don't think I need it.”

“You almost killed yourself. You need it. Believe me I know.”

I looked up at her. “How would you know?”

She pulled the sleeve of her blouse up, There was a long scar tracing along her vein, from her wrist almost up to her elbow. “Experience. Shall we keep going? You need to sleep in a real bed and I need to go computer shopping.”

**

Montreal, Canada
August 20th, 2007

I slept the rest of the way to Montreal, when I woke up I was surprised to find a light blanket draped over me. “Come on, Pat, we're here,” Dark Wind said.

It was late evening, so there wasn't much to see except a run down neighbourhood with poorly dressed people, and a group that looked like a gang walking down the street like they owned it. My legs were wobbly and half asleep as I staggered out of the truck and followed Dark Wind up the stairs to a third floor apartment. The hallway was dingy and badly lit, but it didn't smell too bad and the floors were just dirty not covered in garbage.

The small apartment was dusty with a musty smell that let you know it hadn't been lived in for several months. The very basic furniture included a ragged easy chair, a futon, cheap tv on some milk crates, a rickety table and chair set in the kitchen, a cracked coffee table, and a few books on yet more milk crates. He wasn't sure what to picture when he thought of a villains lair, but it didn't include this.

“You'll be sleeping on the futon, I get the bedroom.” Dark Wind waved her hand, a dark cloud lifted the coffee table up and to the other side of the room. “Don't worry about pajamas, I've got a pair of shorts for you to wear, and we'll go shopping tomorrow. We would have done it tonight, but traffic sucked.”

“That's fine,” I muttered.

She gave me an odd look, but turned away quickly to unfold the futon. “Go to the kitchen and look through the cans for what you'd like. It's not fancy, but it's all good. We can get some things you'll like when we go out tomorrow.”

Without a word I went to the cupboard and pulled out a big can of beef stew. Rinsing the dust out of a sauce pan I had supper cooking a minute later. As Dark Wind cursed at the futon, I took off the disguise. I wondered what people would say when they saw the scales. Would it get in the way at Whateley's? Would I stand out even more? Would they grow and cover all of my skin eventually?

I stirred the stew as it heated up, trying to stop thinking. Things were too confusing, I just wanted a few minutes of peace. Closing my eyes, I focused on my brain, putting parts of it to sleep naturally. The noise in my head died down, leaving me still thinking, but doing things from a little ways away, more like a computer game, rather than personally. The distance between me and the real world was pleasant, I found myself smiling happily.

Dark Wind came in finally done fighting the futon. “You're in a good mood.”

“It's peaceful now.”

She came over grabbing my chin to look in my eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah. I'm ok now.”

“No you're not. What did you do?”

Shrugging, “I just put a lot of my brain to sleep. I was thinking too much and getting scared and worried. I'm ok.”

“You're acting like your drugged. Do you do this often?” she asked.

“Nnnnoooo. I just tried it tonight.”

She slapped my cheek, hard. “Haven't you learned not to fuck with brains or your body. Do you have any idea what could have gone wrong?”

Very slowly my hand went to my cheek. “I'd have just fallen asleep. It's ok. I've studied lots about the human brain. I know what I'm doing.”

“Yeah that worked really well for you last week didn't it?”

“Dark Debra... Sorry, Aunt Debra, I'm not doing anything wrong. It's just a body.”

She turned off the stove, and walked me over to a chair. “Glitch, what is your real name?”

“Glitch. Just Glitch," I said. I had to put Sam away now, he'd messed up too badly. He wouldn't get a second chance.

“Ok, Glitch. This is not just a body. It's your body. You only get one, and no matter how fucked up things are right now, they do get better.”

I started to laugh. If only she knew, this wasn't my body, I didn't want it anymore. It was a tool, and if it didn't do what I wanted I'd force it. She started to look worried, I paralyzed my vocal cords, and forced myself to breath normally. My body, as if I'd let myself be this ugly if I had a choice.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

Nodding my head, I pointed at the stew, my stomach was growling. We ate the thick stew in silence and then she pulled some blankets and pillows out of plastic bags for both of us. I laid down hoping I could go to sleep. Dark Wind washed up, and did some things in her room. I heard the door open and Dark Wind slipped outside with a phone in her hand.

Touching the scales on my face and hand, I got up. My body was a tool, I'd make it do what I wanted. I went to the kitchen.

**

“Louis, This is D.W.,” she spoke into the devise phone while sitting on the edge of the roof.

Fubar's voice wasn't the cheerful tone she was used to. “What's wrong?”

“What else, Glitch. He wanted to kill himself, and even though he stopped himself, he is in a very bad place right now.”

“Any details?”

“We just got to our stop over, and he put part of his brain to sleep because he was thinking too much, and got scared. It was like he was drugged. Even better he's never tried it before, it's as if he doesn't care about what could have gone wrong.”

“Where is he now?” her friend asked.

“Asleep,” she said with some relief. “The healing left him pretty tired, and he's been sleeping most of the day. I'm tempted to get him some anti-depressants but I have no idea what they might do to him. I have a report from the doctors I brought him to, and they told me if he died while in my care they really wanted to study his brain, they've never seen anything like it.”

There was a pause, while Fubar thought about the new information. “Bring him here as soon as possible. We'll run some tests on him and consider transferring him to ARC.”

“Ok. Oh yeah, he has scales now.”

“He's suffering from GSD?”

“No. The devise the doctors used to heal him had some side affects, he has scales covering where he was injured. It wouldn't be too bad except he's got them on his neck, jaw and lower lip. He took a knife to his lip to get rid of what he called Happy Gas.” She answered his next question before he could ask it. “Happy Gas is that stuff in the girl who was hospitalized for drugs. It was a natural concoction of hormones he made himself and somehow pushed out of his mouth. He says he didn't realize what he was doing or how bad it would be.”

“I need to read those reports,” Fubar muttered. “So he can drug anyone he talks to or kisses?”

“Not anymore. He cut it out. He said he didn't want to risk hurting anyone with it again. That's why the devise had to fix his lip.” As she explained her stomach did a flip flop at the thought of a kid cutting into their body like that.

“Can you have him here tomorrow?”

“Probably, even with all the back roads it will only be six or seven hours, at most. The next morning at the latest.”

“I'll let Carson know. We have a room in Hawthorne ready for him, and if he's not dangerous to others there are a few students here who didn't have any place to go. Maybe being around some other children his own age, going through what he has will help settle him,” Louis said, with just a trace of wishful thinking.

“I'll do what I can on the way there to get him talking and maybe start losing some of the self-abuse,” she said. “Speaking of that, I'd better go and make sure he hasn't done anything else freaky.”

“Good luck. It sounds like you'll need it.”

“Thanks. I won't jinx myself by saying anything that will make the gods prove me wrong, so goodbye.”

With a last breath of the dirty city air, she headed back to her safe house. Stepping inside, she saw the bathroom light was on, the next thing she noticed was the crying coming from there. Running across the room, Dark Wind saw Glitch slumped down in front of the sink, blood and tears dripped from his lip, a bloody steak knife rested in his hand.

Wrapping the weapon in a cloud of darkness she took it from him, letting if fall gently into the tub. Kneeling beside the boy, she cradled him to her chest ignoring the blood and tears staining her shirt. “It's going to be ok. Don't worry, you'll be ok,” she whispered.

“Wh-what will they... they think of the scales?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“They've seen worse. Believe me, there are some kids at Whateley who would give their right arm to just have a couple of scales.”

“I'm ugly. I've been ugly since I woke up.”

Dark Wind stroked his hair like she did her own young son. “You're a regenerator, you'll lose the scales pretty soon.”

“The scales don't matter. This body is ugly. It's ugly, and bad, and smells, and weak, and does bad things. I didn't do anything bad before I woke up in this... this thing.” He said the last word like a curse, hitting his leg hard enough to make Dark Wind wince in sympathetic pain.

“What's your real body?”

“The computer. I want to just slip away into a computer where I'm pretty, and can do anything I want. I didn't hurt people there. Why did I ever think I could do this?”

“You hurt Becky. But she'll survive. And those two boys who attacked you were looking to kill you if the witnesses are to be believed. You were beaten pretty badly, anything you did was self defense.”

The crying got worse. “I-I'm not suppose to hurt people. I should be making people happy. That's what I'm supposed to be good at, making people happy, and forgetting their trouble. But I've been fighting people, making them sick, making them angry. What good am I?”

“Hey, look at me!” she said, forcing his face up. His lip wasn't that badly cut, just an already healing slash along the upper edge of the scales. “What did I tell you when you first talked to me?”

He didn't say anything, not really comprehending what she was getting at.

“I told you that the only person you need to worry about is you. So what if you can't make everyone happy, no one can. If you try you'll just exhaust yourself and end up feeling like shit. You have to make smaller goals, try to make those people closest to you happy, without drugging them.” Dark Wind knew that it would take a while to sink in, it had taken her months to pull her out of the depression she'd found herself in years ago. But hopefully it would give the kid a goal. “Do you want to call your Mom?” she asked.

“Can I call Rachael instead?”

“Sure. Don't tell them where we are or where we're going, but you have five minutes to let her know you're ok.” She took a minute to clean him up, and then gave him her phone, and disappeared into the bedroom, to give him a little bit of privacy. At least the illusion of privacy, she slipped a bit of the dark matter under the door, using it to funnel sight and sound straight to her.

**

I looked at the phone in my hand and thought about what I was going to say. I couldn't tell Rachael much, Dark Wind was too friendly with Whateley to risk being too open. But I could at least see if she was still my friend. I really needed a friend.

With trembling fingers I dialed her cell phone.

“Hello,” Rachael said.

My chest hurt, I didn't know what to say. I needed to keep her out of danger, couldn't let Whateley know about her, but I needed to know she was alright. I needed to know if I still had a friend in the world.

Hello, is anyone there?” she asked.

“Hi, Rachael,” I whispered.

“Oh thank god! Sam are you alright?” she didn't quite scream.

I collapsed onto the futon, sobbing with relief. “I'm ok. I can't tell you where I'm going or anything, but I'm ok.”

“You're mom said you were going somewhere safe. She's really worried but she told me that everything would be ok. But I still wasn't sure, you were...”

“I was pretty badly hurt,” I finished for her. “How much did you see?”

She hesitated before answering. “After I was punched, I didn't see much, I only heard you scream. Then Neal was pulling me out the door, and there was lots of screaming and things breaking. Sam... what did you do to Becky?”

The phone dropped from my hand, and the tears started to fall. I took a moment to collect myself, I had to tell her. If she stopped being my friend because of that, I deserved it, I needed to be punished and I'd accept whatever came. Picking the phone back up, I forced myself to speak. “I did something horrible. I kept making people angry, and I wanted, needed to make them happy. So I made a chemical, a happy gas. It was suppose to help make someone happy. When Becky came over, she was really upset, so I gave her some, and every time she kept getting sad or upset so I gave her more. I-I didn't know it would make her addicted to it, to me. I cut it out. I cut out the sac that held it. I can't, I won't do anything like it ever again.”

Very quietly my friend asked me a simple question. “Did you use it on me?”

“NO! I swear I only used it on Becky. She was crying and I wanted to make her happy. I didn't understand. I want to make it better. I'm, I'm going to make it better. If I could I'd take it all back, but I can help her and her family, and I'm going to.”

“How can you make it better? She was screaming and had to be drugged because she attacked the police!”

The tears came back. “I can't fix it. I know that. But I can help her family. I can do that much. They're going to get a donation to help take care of her. It's all I can do. If I could do more I would, but I can't. I can't. I can just make sure I don't hurt anyone again.”

“What will you do once you do what you have to do?” she asked.

“Don't ask me that. Please. I won't-” I couldn't tell her she wouldn't see me again. “I'm sorry. I have to go. Stay safe.”

She was yelling at me when I hung up.

Putting the phone on the table, I crawled under the blankets and forced myself to fall asleep.

**

“NO!” I yelled, throwing the toast I'd been eating for breakfast across the room. Dark Wind had just told me about a change of plans, which involved a virtually non-stop trip to Whateley. I was almost seeing red, but forced myself to calm down, a little. “We are spending the morning buying a computer and transferring money around!”

“Things have changed, Glitch,” Dark Wind said, staring at me impassively. “You need to get professional help, and the best place to do it is at Whateley.”

“You don't understand. I NEED to do this. I have to make up for what I did.” The anger was disappearing, replaced by an overwhelming grief. My dreams from the night before had been made up of Sam's memories. Moments where he'd done bad things, getting into fights, stealing some money from his parents, breaking his neighbours window, teasing kids. In each of them, he'd been caught and punished. Detention, grounding, working off the debt, and in the end he'd been forgiven.

When I woke up well before dawn, I'd thought about it. If you accepted your punishment, you could be forgiven, redeemed in peoples eyes. I needed to be punished, and then I'd find redemption. The money was just a part of the punishment I HAD to suffer, but it was the first step.

“You sure about this, Glitch? It would probably be better if you get some counseling ASAP.”

Wiping my eyes, I violently shook my head. “This is more important.”

She thought about it for a long minute. “Ok, but we make it quick and you can do everything at a cafe while we eat lunch. Deal?”

“Deal.”

**

We got a top of the line laptop and had a coffee and sandwich at Starbucks where I transferred the money around. I couldn't enter the computer like I wanted to, but it was only a little slower to transfer the funds around and write a letter from an anonymous rich person who felt sympathy for each of the families.

Just a little after noon we were on the road to Whateley. Dark Wind cursed as we were forced to wait for construction and traffic jams as we drove, casting worried glances at me the entire way. For my part, I concentrated on my brain. I had to make sure I was stable for the mission ahead. I'd screwed up enough already. As soon as I passed through the school gates, there could be no chance of a screw up, not if I wanted to free Master.

I buried the fear and panic deep inside of me, locking it away as tightly as I could. I had no other choice, I had to succeed for Master.