A Puppy At My Heels (Alistair)

[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

Why hasn't Alistair come to Artie sooner? Through his simplistic words, Alistair was learning much about what he could become with his own archenemy. The chimera had provided more help to Alistair in the past three days than his pathetic father had in a lifetime. In all actuality, his father had pulled the 'here's your curse, good luck figuring it out' maneuver right before he died. Alistair never had any sort of instruction or guidance in dealing with his oddity. Up until a few days ago, he had braved the storm all by himself.

"So a compromise has truly worked for you?" Alistair whispered in an interrogative tone. He got to wondering as to wether or not that would work for him as well. The Artie Alistair was facing had a splice of both man and animal. In the ringmaster's perspective, the splice was playing out seamlessly. Artie was still intelligent enough to answer Alistair, and looked comfortable in a body unobtainable to a human. Would Alistair be able to do that? Control his second form instead of being a backseat driver to it? He wanted to try. The question was wether or not he had the courage to do so.

Suddenly snapping out of his thoughts, Alistair nodded to Artie. "Thank you, Artie, for the advice." He mumbled politely. "I will... Try to compromise with it, as you have." Although the words had encouraged him, there was still a dark hint of doubt remaining in his voice. There was something that needed to be said, a giant obstacle to Alistair's goal in regaining control of his monster. The problem facing the bogeyman was not just emotional, but both psychological and physical. What he would reveal next had only been revealed to Artie and Artie alone. He had been hiding the truth for years, and needed to come clean.

"Not... Quite..." Actually, not even close. A sputtering inhale was taken in with Alistair's anxiety for possible embarrassment. "Artie? Please... Do not look..." Alistair stepped a few feet back behind Artie. Swallowing his pride, he began to unbutton his coat. This was going to be hard to do.

"I feel like I should enlighten you a bit more on the subject of my transformation." After fumbling with the buttons, the large tuxedo coat was slipped off of his shoulders. "It was exactly one month following my eighteenth birthday. My father's health was in severe decline. I knew at that point in time that he was going to die tomorrow." Onto the secondary jacket. "The day following I held my father's hand until he had slipped into the afterlife, parting me with no words as to what I would inherit from him. Not only had I later that day received the deed to this entire circus, but I had also received the curse that day as well." Alistair was down to unzipping a vest. "The moment it hit me was... Well, surreal. I felt... Power seep into me. I felt my bones grow stronger as I inherited temporary immortality. Human hunger surpassed my stomach to give me an odd sensation that promised hunger of... Something else. I knew what my after told me. I told myself that, while I was to reap fear, I would do it in the most humane way possible. But I was so foolish... For once in my life I did not feel subordinate or weak. At first, I relished my new powers. The monster within me gave me incredible enhancements to my life. Almost like a drug high, actually." With a sigh, Alistair began to unbuckle his wrinkled dress pants. "It was only a week later did I have to face the greatest hell I have ever experienced in my entire life." He slid then off his ankles to reveal yet another layer underneath. "It was the night of the new moon. My father told me tales but, being the idiotic child I was, I ignored them. The first transformation felt... Wonderful. I had felt that my new monstrous body, at least twelve or so feet in height, was who I truly was meant to be. I felt so much... Power. I never had any power before in my life. I wanted to enforce it, though only to myself. I wanted to prove to myself that I was no longer the weakling I was raised to be." Back to the button up. "The monster sensed this. He knew what I wanted. He knew he could corrupt me in my moment of weakness. Arrogantly I thought I was this monster's master. No. I was its pawn. After a few seconds I lost control of my body. I felt instincts replace my logical thinking and... This sounds odd... I could /feel/ the monster rip me from my body and suspend my spirit as just a thought at the back of its brain. That is what I am in that form. I realized in that second that I was just a pesky, useless voice that held absolutely no power with this centuries old monster. Unfortunately, I could still feel everything as if I were myself. I had no control, nor did I have protection against the monster's feelings. What felt good to it... Felt amazing to me..." Alistair lowered his tone as he removed another pair of pants. "At that time, I was in the middle of the desert here in Wyoming. I was miles from the circus, and I was hungry... Very, very hungry... Fortunately for my circus, they were too far off from where I was to be in my prey radar." His voice became shaky. "I cannot say the same for the town nearby."

By this point, Alistair was nearly done undressing now. But he didn't stop talking. "The fear of a little girl, absorbed through her screams, was satisfying but... I wanted more. No, I needed more. I needed every last once of vitality out of that girl. Without hesitation, I... I let the monster rip her open. I allowed it to paint the walls with her blood, and leave the body mangled up for her parents to discover. When they came in, I... I did not stop. They met the same fate. B-but, I could not. I wanted to stop because it was wrong but... I let the monster keep going because it felt /so right/." Alistair swallowed in a gulp of air. "Eleven adults, six children; all of different ages and race... They were nothing more than a crimson smear here and a splatter there. I destroyed it all. Every last living thing in that damned tiny village. And you know what? I erased the minds of the police that arrived on the scene an hour or so later. Seventeen people were wiped off the face of this earth under my power, and there is not a person on this planet that knows they even existed." Alistair spat out that last word in pure disgust for himself. "I woke up the next morning in the middle of the desert under a shaded rock. Naked, amnesia-stricken, and dazed. I-I remember waking up in pure horror as I observed the blood that had caked on my hands and to a trail leading up to me. Skulls, bones, eyes and tattered pieces of clothing surrounded me in a gruesome radius. Bits and pieces of my memory started to patch itself together, and when I stitched them all together, well..." A somber sniffle sounded from behind Artie. "I remember the faces of each one of my victims right before I murdered them in pure bliss." The tone Alistair was bearing was filled with despair and utter remorse. He hadn't had the heart to tell anyone this because, well, this was something truly horrendous.

"Artie, that was six years ago."

Slowly, Alistair approached from the side. All of his clothes laid in a disoriented manner on the floor, while the pale man was in nothing but a pair of shorts. The man before Artie, well... It was clear that Alistair was really, really sick.

All of the external bones of the ringmaster's body were protruded by a thin layer of skin. Each vertebrae and rib could be counter on him due to the fact that his body had devoured its own muscle and fat. The abdominal region was sunken in, to the point that it would have been debatable if he had any internal organs at all. His arms and legs looked like sticks, and he looked like he could have easily been broken in two had it not been for the supernatural demon inside of him. Speaking of, a trait not seen by many was shone once Alistair was shirtless- In his chest cavity, a strange an inexplicable light flashed on and off with each heart beat. Glowing in a faded rise color, the organ could have been seen with each pulse, obscuring itself following a short reveal. Unfortunately, the sporadic nature of this phenomenon showed that Alistair's heartbeat was unusually slow. And weak. Alistair was very, very sick.

"I have not fed myself since that day." He looked down at himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. Tears once more began to develop in his eyes. This time, they were begging for help. "And I do not know what to do."

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[ARTISAN KIM]

Six years? Artie couldn't fathom the pain of denying a body food for so long. Heck, the wait between breakfast and lunch sometimes got the chimera howling and whining over how much he was 'starving'. The chimera never truly understood what it meant to be 'starving' until he saw the skeleton that he called master.

“Master sick?” fretted the chimera, “Master...die?” The beast's innocent eyes widened in panic. Artie's first instinct was to smother his protector in a suffocating, all-embracing hug. He rushed up to Alistair, but stopped just short of flinging his heavy body atop of the man. It dawned on the creature that his crushing strength would do more harm than good, even when used for hugging.

“B-b-but Artie love master!” he whimpered, “Artie no want say goodbye. Artie no want sit at grave.” Even in death, Artie would keep his promise. If it came down to it, he'd sit by Alistair's gravestone every morning until the time was right for his own passing. “Master have to live...Or Artie be...misunderstood again. Artie have no purpose. Artie alone. Bye bye best friend.”

The beast was babbling like a baby. It sat with its long legs sticking out of too-small pajamas, it's chest heaved with sobs, and it feebly scrubbed its eyes. What a big, lovable oaf.

And now, the oaf was changing.

The beast felt uncomfortable with Artie's foreign emotions taking over its form, so it allowed the chimera to revert back to his humanoid form. With the slither and cracks of a morphing body, Artie was back to his humanoid form in a minute. Throughout the transformation, the beast had been barking in wild distress. What would happen to its master? Would his master be alright? What could he do to help?

Now in his normal appearance of a handsome, young man...Artie forced himself to stand upright on wobbling legs. His body hadn't fully adjusted to the change yet, and there were several times where he looked ready to fall flat on his face. Hazel eyes burned with passion and determination as he toddled to Alistair, each uncertain step sending his whole body wobbling. Finally, he stood in front of the ringmaster.

And he slapped Alistair across the face. “Why would you do this to yourself, master?” he cried, “Vampires won't starve themselves! Chimeras won't starve either. We're all...we're all little monsters, so there's nothing to be ashamed of! You shouldn't have to hurt yourself because you were born different!” Artie now buried his nose into Alistair's shoulder, and looped his arms around he man's skeleton body for a gentle hug. “Is it selfish to want to live? Is it wrong if we want to enjoy life like anybody else?” he sobbed, “I-I-I hate the word different. It makes it sound like we 're not allowed to do those things! It sounds like...like we don't have a right to be happy!”

Artie forced himself to quiet down so he wasn't yelling as loudly, but his voice shook and trembled with emotion. “It's not fair that I have to hide! Or you have to hide! Or even that scary Yuki guy has to hide!” he said, “It's not fair that Lilly is sad. Or Carter was experimented on. It's not fair that I hurt PJ! But it's the way things are. So master...you can't hate yourself for being yourself. If killing makes you happy, then you have to accept it. You can't fight your own nature. I accepted m-my nature. No matter how I dress myself up, I'll always be a dumb beast underneath. Cyril's pretty good at reminding me about that. Master...you'll always have this thing inside of you. You can learn to live with it – and train him for whoever will be it's host in the future. Or you can hide, master. You can hide and pretend that starving yourself is noble.”

Then, Artie looked into the ringmaster's eyes. “Alistair, I'm talking to you as a friend – okay?” he said suddenly, eyes brimming with tears, “You have the right to be happy. It's okay if you don't know what that feels like yet. And...and you have the right to love and be loved. Please, practice control when I'm here. I can't...I can't let you die!”

Once more, Artie threw his arms around the skinny man's torso. “The beast doesn't feel fear like humans, so I don't think your monster would be too interested in it,” he explained, “He—argh! The beast feels that your other form is coming, so he's t-trying to protect me! He also...also named your monster its master. I d-don't know if it'll change things. That stupid, dumb...Ow!”

Artie's body was transforming back into its mutated form; the beast knew that in the event that Alistair were to become dangerous, he could survive longer than his humanoid form could. Meanwhile, Artie could feel the trading of a sharp mind for the sharp instincts that would suit the monster's form. “M-master! D-do me a favor when I change back!” he said, short of breath, “Bop that dumb beast on the nose with a newspaper for me.”

In under a minute, the beast was back.

“Hmmmmm?” it whined, “Huuuuuum. Huuuuum.”

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

The moment's Alistair's confession had settled in to Artie was the moment Alistair once felt appalled with himself. Not for being unwillingly fused with a monster, but for abusing his own power by neglecting it. It was Alistair's fault that he was going totally berserk. If he had fed his monster the way he was supposed to, he would had eventually gained practice and learned to successfully cooperate with his monster. Instead, he had lived off assumptions that the monster was what made his own father abusive, rather than the hellish personality he already possessed. He had assumed the monster inside of him was not negotiable and possessed little regards for the body he was in. "Artie? I will not die it will not let me I-" Another aspect he had assumed. Since the first Pyrewick afflicted with the curse, every ancestor had taken care of the monster inside of them well. True, they all murdered, but because of what they were and nothing more. They knew that that was how things had to be.

And, before Alistair's father, they had all gone a certain distance afterwards to honor those who were sacrificed to the monster.

In basic essence, Alistair was the only heir that was truly messing everything up.

Which meant the monster was growing weary of parading him around and would just eventual ditch his exhausted corpse to find another host's lineage.

And that, to Alistair, was a fate he wouldn't even dare consider delivering to even his worst of enemies.

The expression that soon snapped upon Alistair's face in a sort of epiphany was one of 'Oh-my-God,-what-have-I-done'. He was hurting himself, the monster, and the potential sanity of another inflicted by the curse. That wasn't his goal! All Alistair was thinking was all the lives he had wanted to save in the process. He wanted abstinence from the sensation that the monster /told/ him felt good. But who was he truly hurting here? Either way to look at it, there wasn't a single person benefiting from the situation besides victims.

And that was selfish.

Alistair already felt helpless as he clasped his frail hands the beast's own 'hands'. Tears trembled from his eyes as he tried to comfort the poor beast. "I-I love you too Artie and I am not going to die..." As Artie's panic grew, a sudden anxiety spike caused Alistair to breathe heavy; his bony shoulders heaving sickly with the motion. "I am not going to die!" The shout was delivered with a more questioning tone as Alistair truly debated wether or not he was lying to the chimera. His muscle/fat-less knees bent to kneel down to the chimera in order to comfort him. "Do not cry, do not cry Artie please..."

Apparently, the emotion spike had set the chimera off. Alistair soon found himself stumbling back to his two legs as Artie began to shift back into a human. Unfortunately, the man approaching him still towered over him, which left Alistair to curl up in his shadow. His pride in his position was officially drained from him once he felt a solid smack deliver across his face. After his head bounced back from the shot the ringmaster rubbed his cheek like a child to a scold. Words were rushing through his head, and judging by the glazed look in his eyes Alistair wasn't quite all there. He listened carefully, and allowed himself to be hugged even if he wasn't fully aware. How could he be so accepting on murder? Alistair did not at all want to hurt people. He was even scared to lightly smack something, let alone murder a man for their fear and sustenance. But that was what he needed to survive. There was no other way. He needed to train his monster to coexist with himself, but how could he do that if he couldn't properly follow his own needs? "I.." Was all Alistair could mumble out before wrapping his bone-pronounced arms around Artie and rested his weary head upon his shoulder. He wasn't used to this pep talk. He simply didn't know how to react.

"You are right." Was something Alistair finally admitted between Artie's words. Many of those at Circo had monsters inside of them, or demons they needed to fight. Artie knew this, and Alistair had been so stubborn as to resist what was supposed to come naturally. No doubt that when he would finally go hunting he would decimate every living creature in sight. But it was sooner that and the ability to get better than to, over time, deteriorate his own body and perish. "How could I have been so blind..." He whispered as his mind flashed back to his years of self-abuse. With the flood of memories Alistair shit his eyes in order to hold back tears. "Artie, you are more than just a dumb beast. You have managed to wake up some idiot that has done more harm than good to everyone around me, including myself...." He let go of the hug to back up and hug himself. "But you understand, do you not? I am a murderer, wether I like it or not. In a human perspective, of course I desired to tuck away animalistic instincts in favor of what many on this planet consider the 'right thing to do'. I do not want to be a monster. I know you say I am not, but it is hard to believe that someone like /me/ has to kill on a regular basis to satisfy a never ending hunger." Despite the duvet in courage he had faced before, the frail man looked up with a bit more integrity. "No matter what however this monster inside of me will never die. If I go down, it will not go down with me. You are right. I do need to train it. Starting tonight."

Unfortunately, another wave of emotions seemed to be taking of Artie's mind again. Yet, it seemed that Artie wasn't fighting them. Alistair watched with an unchanging facial expression as the creature morphed back into its deformed shape. The beast was back again, and this time, Alistair seemed to understand its existence more.

The sickly man sat on his shins to face the beast in front of him. Gently, playfully, Alistair booped him gently on the nose with a bony index finger. "Bad beast~" He mumbled in a small voice. Alistair knew that the monster had cared both about him and the devil lurking inside his spirit. He knew that Artie was often the voice of reason, while the beast was the voice of emotion. And each side Alistair came to respect dearly. Could he eventually say the same about his own monster.

"Master is going to be alright." Alistair comforted, reaching a weakened hand to pet his head. "Tonight... I have to know where I am going to... Feed." Ugh, the word sounded so gross to him. "I have not been in my form in such a long time, as I have forced myself from transforming." Suddenly, Alistair looked to the beast in newfound fear. "Artie, even if I become worse than those awful people in the news that hurt so many people without a reason... Even if I hurt hundreds of people tonight? Will you still love me? I-I promise not to hunt more than I will need... But there is no telling how much my mind will change as the result of my monster..." Alistair sighed and looked down. "I just want to be healthy... And maybe be happy one day... I am just... Tired of being so sad all of the time."


Suddenly, Alistair looked up. He saw his clothes in a disarray on the floor. Sheepishly, he smiled to himself. "I should probably put back on my clothes. Or at least some pajamas. Wait... Why /did/ you wake me up at 3 am anyway?"

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[ARTISAN KIM]

“Bad beast~”

The chimera giggled at the scolding and responded by licking Alistair's cheek. "Beast happy!" he said, "Master alright!" He laughed and purred as Alistair gave his head a pat, and seemed relieved that the old ringmaster wouldn't give up.

His brightness seemed to falter for a bit when asked about why he'd shown up in Alistair's room in the first place. "Beast have...bad dream," he sulked, "About...past...make beast sad."

In his dream, his humanity was still in its early stages; it'd been undeveloped and very raw. Only upon waking up, did Artie fully realize how far he'd come.

The beast was inclined to hunt like any other wild animal, but it wasn't because he was 'evil'. The creature followed it's instincts, honestly unable to tell the difference between right and wrong; the beast would do whatever made itself satisfied. If you pointed a gun at it, the creature wouldn't hesitate to shred you to ribbons. On the contrary, offering the monster cake would earn oneself a new best friend. Its simple nature seemed harmless at first, but was quick to cause complications.

Sometimes the beast would grow restless and merely want to function the way it was designed to – hunting, sparring, and getting proper exercise. When Artie suppressed the beast's instincts for too long, that's when 'accidents' happened. For example, Artie rarely used his predatory instincts except when sparring with Carter – and even then, they were tremendously subdued. When PJ offered Artie a chance to release that instinct, the beast had gladly taken over and attacked. It released both Artie's human rage and the beast's stress...but in a way that two felt very, very sorry about afterward.

Artie knew that he couldn't neglect the beast's instincts, which grew stronger as he matured into the monster he'd been designed to be. But, observing its desires would mean compromising his own humanity. Even though he'd been negotiating and tending to his monster for the majority of his life, the debate over his humanity was one they'd yet to resolve.

“No...magic...solution,” grunted the beast, “Artie and beast...still...work in p-prah-progress.” The mutant scratched its head in thought and seemed to have more difficulty expressing itself than before. He debated whether it'd be easier to let Artie take over, but decided it would be too dangerous for his other half's squishy, human body to be in Alistair's presence. “No easy...but master do same!” he said, nodding to show his encouragement, “Need time! Artie u-uh...understand.”

All that talking left the beast feeling winded as it was accustomed to showing its basic emotions rather than describing the higher thoughts of his human side. “Talk...hard,” he sulked, “Just...Artie love master always!” He wanted to say so much more than that! Why was it getting to be so hard? “Want say...want say!” he said, voice rising in frustration, “No have words!”

Frustration was a baby step away from aggression.

At first, the creature merely growled as he choked out a pathetic collection of broken phrases. How it was possible to string together random words and form a meaning was beyond him! But, his human side had done it so well! Artie snarled and lashed out at the water dish. He flipped the bowl over, sending water spilling over the office carpet. The ringmaster's clothes weren't spared the wrath of the miniature flood, nor was the bowl. Artie smashed his fist against the metal with such ferocity that it shattered to pieces. The beast bore his teeth at the bowl, as if the object was the source of his problems. Only when he caught sight of his monstrous appearance, now further distorted through the fragmented metal, did he retreat to Alistair.

“Beast...sorry.”

The beast approached Alistair with his tail tucked between his legs, his body and gaze lowered in shame, two drooping ears, and quivering lips.

Would master punish him? Would master yell? Where was he going to get more water? He hadn't been thinking about what would happen if he got thirsty! Oh – he was thirsty right now! “Beast sorry!” he whimpered, “Accident!” Nervously, his claws tore at the carpet in order to relieve stress. It also managed to relieve chunks of fabric off the floor.

He noticed the torn patch of carpet and recoiled, not having meant to break that as well. What was he going to do with himself? Not only was he frustrated, but the beast's instincts was rapidly consuming him. “Beast want hunt! S-still hungry! A-and want play! And exercise! A-a-and hunt! No mean break!” he whimpered, “Master...master make beast okay again? Master help?”

The beast was restless and anxious, frustrated and confused, and now entirely in the care of Alistair. The ringmaster and his monster were now responsible for a stray, problematic franken-pup whether they liked it or not.

It was up to them to decide how they would take care of it...or if Alistair's demon would simply kill the beast when the time came. On the other hand, the monster should at least take into consideration the benefits -- if not, the outright novelty -- or having a creature being loyally devoted to it. After all, the Boogeyman obviously loved having its ego inflated.

Alistair's monster could kick the pup around until the creature was a pile of broken bones, and Artie would still return. Why did this odd little creature love both sides without reason? And where was the satisfaction of killing a creature that would only come back for more, if given a chance? Where was the satisfaction in that? In its current form, the beast's screams would have no more nourishment than if Alistair fed off of a stray dog.

Artie was truly one of a kind...and was now in the care of Alistair Pyrewick and the Boogeyman. If treated kindly, the beast would respond with love and emotion. But there was a chance that if you abused the pup enough, it would grow into being the Boogeyman's personal attack dog. The chimera had willingly tied himself to Alistair, and his fate would highly be influenced on how well the ringmaster gained control.

Artie trusted that Alistair would succeed. He'd had faith in Alistair ever since he first walked into the office and named him 'master'. He had faith in his best friend.

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

With Artie's elated reception the weary ringmaster himself sustained a small cough-of-a-giggle as he rubbed his wet cheek with the back of his hand. That good mood quickly diminished as he sensed his friend's sudden uncertainty. Switching to sit on his behind while his knees were to his chest, Alistair rested his head down to listen to Artie. Nightmares... How familiar had he been with those. Not only did he have them, but he inspired him. After all, he was the monster under the bed. He was the creature in the closet. That thing that would reach out of the bathtub drain and drown an unassuming victim. Things that went 'bump' in the night? That was him. So, naturally he knew exactly how terrifying a nightmare could be, no matter how ludicrous. Fear was fear. It was human nature. And sometimes inhuman. "Of course..." Alistair mumbled in sluggish response, still dazed in his mind and only halfway there.

While Alistair was lost in his thoughts , Artie's anxiety was gaining on him. It seemed like his humanity was decreasing by the second. Of course, Artie was not happy about it. "Artie, please, calm down... Everything is going to be alright." Alistair pacified softly. His soothingly eerie voice however appeared to have no effect on the distressed monster. His sentences were becoming shorter, his words choppier. Why wouldn't he be upset? "Artie-"

As Alistair reached out with his hand Artie snapped back in an animalistic manner. The frail man yelped as he forced himself backwards, so that he wasn't in the way of the monster. The sudden raise in defense had led Alistair's inner instincts to spike. His lip snarled, and he made a nasty hiss . His animal side started to shine through, and, if he wasn't defenseless in his state. Fortunately for Artie, all he got back was another boisterous snarl before his apology awoke him.

Once he heard the sincere 'sorry', Alistair's tense shoulders ease. He blinked once, looked at his wet clothes, then over to Artie. His formerly primitive mind soon was over taken by the flood of voiced instincts from his friend. Obviously, the beast needed a his 'master' to finally be a master.

"Artie! Calm! Now! Alistair barked in a suddenly commanding voice. He stop suddenly, barely taller than Artie even when he was sitting. Alistair approached his soaking wet clothes and picked them up gently. "Bad." He snapped with conviction before heading back to his room to get new clothes. While there, he had realized quickly what he had done. Did he hurt Artie's feelings? Hopefully not. On his dresser, Alistair spotted a rubber stress ball a visitor left from the day before. He wouldn't miss it, right? "Fetch." Alistair commanded once more, the blue sphere bouncing happily to the next room and to the door.

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[ARTISAN KIM]

The beast never knew that Alistair could give orders. With a dumbfounded expression, the creature gawked at the man storming out of the room. Since when did master learn to be so commanding? Not knowing what to do, Artie merely waited for further instruction. His claws still tore up patches of carpet as he relieved stress, but he'd stopped panicking for the time being. All it'd taken to achieve that was a few, strong orders from Alistair. Taking care of a beast couldn't be too hard, could it?

Artie's eyes widened in delight as he heard his favorite game in the whole wide word: “Fetch.”

The chimera sprinted after the ball with full-force, giggling and barking at the bouncing object. And while Artie was having fun, Alistair's office was not. Artie's tail swept nearly ever paper off Alistair's desk, his claws got stuck in the carpet and tore up little patches, and chairs clattered to the floor.

The ball rolled off of Alistair's bookshelf, but Artie was too late in stopping himself; he slammed his feet down like breaks, causing him to fly forward in a clumsy somersault. The chimera rammed right into Alistair's antique bookshelf, causing several volumes of irreplaceable books to tumble to the floor.

Artie merely shook himself off, not realizing the mini-catastrophe he was causing to Alistair's workplace. With a playful growl, the creature lunged for the ball and trapped it underneath his 'hands'. He chewed on the toy for a moment, then scooped it into his jaws – ever so delicately to prevent his mighty fangs from popping it.

The monster trotted back to Alistair with a chest puffing out with pride and the happy, excited wagging of its scorpion-like tail. He threw himself flat on the ground, causing a mini-earthquake in the room; a few chairs tipped over, and several more books fell from the shelves. But Artie didn't notice – or if he did notice, he was too far gone to care and think of the consequences. He looked up to Alistair with a big, puppy grin.

POP.

The chimera looked down at himself as the flour inside the stress ball spilled all over his shirtfront – or rather, the ragged remains of what used to be a pajama shirt with a dinosaur on it. “O-oo...oops.”

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

Bad. Idea.

The first crash that had sounded immediately caused Alistair to rush out of the room, halfway pulling on expensive looking, silk, black pajamas. Without his layers of usual padding on, the loose garments further accentuated how thin he was. Despite his limited repertoire of facial expressions it was clear in his eyes that he immediately became further distressed. God, he expected the animal to chase after the ball lightly and bring it back to him with at least /some/ dignity. Of course, that was not the case.

Now facing a mutt with flour all over his shirt Alistair sighed in defeat. "Well, I should have thought this through." He took the strips remaining of the ball off of the floor and patted Artie softly on the head. At least he returned it.

Alistair looked in a defeated fashion around the room. He was going to transform in here anyway. Not like mess was a big deal in the first place. "Would you like clean clothes?" He offered with a bland tone. The OCD tendencies showed within him as he still couldn't allow more than a few sheets of paperwork to be on the floor. His furniture? Big deal. At this point, Alistair couldn't care less. It was three in the morning, he was doomed to become a killing machine in a few hours, he felt like absolute hell, and he was with a friend; not the queen of England. Priorities were priorities.

"Artie, I think I may have had enough for this... Morning." Alistair mumbled as he observed the mess. A soft yawn escaped his nose. Which was odd, considering he only really slept to alleviate himself of stress and pass the time. His body worked in weird ways when the new moon came around, and he usually slept so he had the energy to keep himself away from the monster. "I need all the energy I can for tonight. I am going to go to sleep... After all, this is a bit of an unreasonable hour..." Alistair muttered as he headed into his room.

"Artie, you can stay here or go home. Either way, I cannot guarantee the mental state I will be in when I wake up." Alistair squeaked a yawn once more. "Goodnight, Artie..."

[ARTISAN KIM]

The chimera was able to pick up upon a few words here and there, but struggled to put together the meaning. “S-sp-speak...slower,” he grumbled, his brow furrowed in concentration. Artie took the pat on the head to mean that he was good, and that all was well. But what was Alistair talking about? The creature could pick up on only a few key words and phrases: Clean clothes. Sleep. Stay. Go.

Thus, sacrificing communication was one of the downfalls of using the beast's powerful body. If Artie was in his human form, he could've retorted with a sly remark and run after Alistair. But the beast? He was totally at a loss of what to do. So when Alistair retreated into the bedroom, Artie followed at the ringmaster's heels. Wherever Alistair went, the chimera was sure to follow.

Within moments of Alistair crawling into bed, Artie had hopped onto the mattress and was making himself comfortable. The creature had recollected his teddy-bear and was gnawing on the toy's ear, a motion that lulled him to sleep. “Good...night...master.” With a final yawn of his own, the docile monster curled up by Alistair's feet to keep him warm and drifted off to sleep.


The back of his head rested on her lap, cushioned by the layered fabrics of Bianca's dress. Her smooth, gentle fingers teased and smothered his hair, the essence of flowers and freedom filled his lungs, and her melodic voice sang a calming lullaby. Artie felt that he could stay there forever, merely content to be in Bianca's spell-binding presence. He wanted to see her familiar face, the loving face that would complete his paradise. Breathing softly, Artie stirred and struggled against his heavy eyelids.

“Hm? Are you awake?” she sighed, “Go back to sleep, silly.”
The child reached up to wrap his arms around her, but he couldn't reach her. Instead, he heard the clatter of chains. Artie examined himself in confusion. A pair of cuffs kept his hands five inches apart from each other at most, and a long chain tethered them to the wall behind him. Chains were likewise wrapped around his feet in a similar fashion, therefore making it impossible for him to walk – bipedal or quadrupedal. The range of his movements were further stunted by a dozen seatbelt-like straps holding his torso stiff, and those too, interlocked with the complex chains holding him in place. The final piece was a hefty, metal ring around his neck; it tightened if he moved too far away from the wall, and would either snap his neck or choke him if he struggled.
“Mama...?”
“I know that you're a very good boy,” she said, “And I know that you won't allow this to happen again.”

As she smoothed his hair back and kissed his forehead, fussing over the chimera in a way only a mother could, Artie was tempted to fall back asleep. Everything would be okay as long as Mama was there, right? “Mama, where am I?” he yawned.

“You're alright, Artie. You just had a little accident,” she said.
Artie tried to remember the earlier events, but could only pull up a hazy picture. He remembered a doctor poking and appraising him, and trying to force the chimera to transform. He remembered little red puddles. The chimera whimpered.
The creek of steel caused Artie to turn, and he found himself against a group of white coats in surgical masks and armored padding.

“It's alright, silly. They're going to give you some medicine, Artie...” cooed Bianca, “Just a little medicine.” If Mama said it was okay...well, Artie supposed that he would be alright. The chimera allowed himself to relax, even as he felt the pricks of needles inserted into the base of his neck. To Artie's horror, he found his senses dulling and his mind clouding. Were they trying to kill him? This was no regular medicine! He had to protect Mama from these lying, manipulative white coats! They were trying to kill him!

Everything was hurting...It felt like his organs were drenched in acid and were eroding away, leaving nothing but a stinging sensation in their wake. His muscles began to cramp in reaction to the poison, causing the child's tiny body to convulse. “M-m-mama!” he cried, “Mama! Help!”

“Ssshhh,” hushed Bianca, “Everything will be okay. Just a teensy little pill and then you're all done!” Nope. Not happening. Artie shook his head, his lips tightly sealed off. When Artie refused to take the pill, Bianca tore it from the specialist's hands and tried to feed it to him. “Artie...take your medicine for master,” she said, holding the small, light-green pill to his lips, “Open up, please.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shook his head, refusing to take the sleeping pill.

“Please, Artie? This medicine makes the pain go away,” she begged. She couldn't do it. She couldn't watch him writhe and wither in so much pain. She'd do anything to make his last moments peaceful, rather than agonizing. “Artie...take your medicine for mama.”

Only then, did he take the pill.


- - - -
“Miss Bianca, would you like to meet with one of our counselors?”
“N-n-no...J-just let m-me be with him...I-I want to be alone with him.”
“I'm sorry, Miss Bianca. Our clean-up crew is already prepared to dispose of the remains.”
“Wh-what?”
“We'll need to cremate him immediately.”
“Y-you promised I could be with him! Wh-when he needed to die. You said I could be with him!”
“Please, ma'am. Step aside. Your pet is in a better place.”
“No!”
“Ma'am! Step aside!”
“Let go of me! Help!”

Two hazel eyes cracked open.
- - - -
Bianca cowered in the corner of the cage, shrieking and gripping the edge of her dress. Dismembered body parts were strewn across the cell floor, blood drops splattered across the walls, and her precious puppy had transformed into a /thing/. The dosage wasn't enough to kill Artie's beastly body, so the child had involuntarily transformed to survive.

Artie shifted back into his human form once there were no survivors except for Bianca and himself, and he was certain the two were safe. He'd been shot at and stabbed during the fight, but unlike a normal child and more like a monster, he'd continued to fight on until his enemies were dead. Now, he crawled up to Bianca with a frightful look in his eyes. He smoothed her hair back, like she'd done to him so many times, and kissed her forehead.

“Mama, are you okay?”
- - - -

The monster had been moaning and stirring at the foot of Alistair's bed for some time now, mumbling gargling words in its sleep. Only half-awake, he pulled himself closer to Alistair. He nestled himself against Alistair's side in an almost comical way, seeing how Alistair was so tiny in comparison to the gentle giant.

"M-master..." he whimpered, "Bad...dream..."

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

Unlike the time before, Alistair's rest was clear of any nightmares or past hauntings. Though his conscious was lulled into a stress-free slumber, his unconscious portion of the brain was engineering a nasty plot. The bogeyman was through of being in remission. It had its outbursts earlier in the night, but now... Now it had about 75% of Alistair's brain. Besides physically shifting, he was nearly as close as he could be to the monster.

Well, his nap had really allowed himself to sleep... To the point that it was three in the afternoon. A soft, gurgling grumble was heard from Alistair as he stirred. His face, once buried in the pillows, lifted, his blinking red eyes now seeming as if the white sclera was now barely glossing over his crimson irises. His weak-looking limbs surprisingly held himself up with enough force. He looked over to Artie. Once in his sleep did he curl up closer to him, now he had looked to him in disdain. Ugh, what an ugly looking creature. Before he halfway tempted to throw the damned thing out of his bed again, Alistair noticed he was stirring. And whining. Oh the whining.

As Artie tried to scoot closer to Alistair the ringmaster practically gave him the cold shoulder. He outright ignored his plea, as shown by him just leaving the room all together. His bony hands clutched his curly white hair, threatening to pull it out. "G-ahh..." Suddenly, he stumbled to the side partially due to a book lying on the round from Artie before. With a loud CRASH! Alistair slammed against the bookshelf and slowly slid down. Once on the ground he grimaced menacingly and grasped the bookshelf corner. In a foul swoop he thew down the entire shelf with increased strength from his monster. Books were sent flying everywhere, and pretty glass sculptures smashed into millions of pieces. He stood there tensely, his shoulders heaving up and down in frustration. His red eyes flicked up soon after to Artie, who was in view from his room. Uh oh.

"You did this..." He hissed. "Get over here. Now."

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[ARTISAN KIM]

What was the point of resisting? Naturally, Artie's body automatically switched forms to increase his chances of survival. So when the beast heard a familiar, frustrated voice scolding “You dummy! You're going to get us both killed!” , he didn't fight back the transformation. Bones splintered and muscle slithered as Artie crawled forward, approaching Alistair with an apprehensive look. Within moments, the grotesque melting pot of animal parts was replaced by the handsome face and figure of Artie's humanoid form.

The initial goal of forever staying by Alistair's side was quickly being overshadowed by the chimera's new goal, staying alive. Yet, by stubbornness or stupidity, Artie refused to break his promise to Alistair. No matter what happened, Artie wouldn't be going anywhere. “Yes, master?” he said, keeping his gaze low. But things would be too easy if Artie didn't have that sassy, bratty streak to him.

“It's not my fault!” he protested, “Master...you were the one to knock over the shelf.” The chimera was kneeling about a half meter away from Alistair, and readily lowering his body to the floor. “But if my master says so...” he sighed, “Then I'll take the blame.” The chimera expected to receive the blunt of Alistair's rage, so he mentally prepared himself to avoid any surprises. If it was an emotional attack, he'd hope that his human side could reason his way out of the pain. If it was a physical attack, his beast side could take over and absorb most of the hits.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, now stretching out his back. His tail flicked behind him, and his hazel eyes swept over the mess on the floor. Artie didn't dare smile. He summoned a polite, overly-cordial tone that would've made Alistair proud had he been in the right frame of mind. “I think that I should remind you that as a chimera, I'm designed to listen to your orders. All you need to do is ask~!”

Artie risked a quick glance up, where he caught Alistair's red-eyed gaze. “So, master...what do you want?”

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

Alistair paid no attention to the beast de-mutating once a splitting migraine formed at the base of his skull. That migraine was Alistair's natural benevolence, which was pushed aside to make room for the emerging bogeyman's spirit. The mental voice... It was screaming over and over again 'Do not hurt him!'. Each chant brought a shiver of pain down the little man's back. The clutching of his head and the gritting of his teeth demonstrated the monster's ability to silent the voice and its physical power. It was its time to take over. Alistair agreed. And it needed no distractions.

Unfortunately for Artie, it appeared that he was the worst distraction of them all.

Ignoring his opening speech and merely focusing on the fact that he was within arm's reach, halfway possessed Alistair snatched Artie by the collar and lifted him to meet his deadly stare. From his side, his left hand balled into a fist and reared up behind Alistair's head. In a snap of a second the monster sent a punch to Artie's face, though not a centimeter before the attack had stopped short. Grunts began to arise from the man. In its mind, the true owner was mustering all the strength he possibly could to prevent the demon from injuring his Artie. The voice... It once more cried out weakly.

'Please! Remember he was the one that convinced me to let you free! Hurt him, and I'll change my mind! I know you could leave my body to die at any time, but you have been in my bloodline for centuries! But... Think of all the power you have obtained through each host from my family. Leave me, and you'll have to start all over again! You've never gained as much power as you have had through my family! Stop... Don't... Hurt him...

Each word of the true ringmaster's speech had drilled a new well of agony through its borrowed skull. Alistair's argument had been the same for five years. He was right, though. Out of all the bloodlines it had contaminated, the Pyrewick one seemed to have the most power. It was something about their spirit... Agh, the weakling-of-a-man would have his way this time. With a grunt, the monster let the fist fall. But the grip around Artie's shirt tightened. "You know, he is right... Without you I would not have ever had the chance to let myself free... You have convinced him to destroy his power over me, and the six year streak of him winning his battle..." In a sudden motion, Alistair's other mind switch from grabbing him by the collar to grabbing him by the neck in a chokehold that was just lose enough for him to sip breath. A few steps later, Alistair was leaning him against another bookshelf.

"You are a damned fool."

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[ARTISAN KIM]

"Remember...who freed you," choked Artie, "Because of me...you...can finally eat" The chimera gasped for breath and his hands scratched at his collar, feebly trying to free his airway. A sticky, warm substance trickled down the back of his head and down his neck, leaving a coppery scent lingering in the air.

The beast within Artie fought for control, panicking and crying over having its beloved master betray him. Artie suppressed the transformation and looked into Alistair's eyes, unable to say anything more due to the limited breaths he could take.

"Relax, stupid!" he thought, "If Alistair wants me to live badly enough, he'll restrain the bad man one way or another! See? Alistair stopped himself from punching us. And we're only semi-choking. It's part of our plan! He's like...exercising his control muscles, even though he's not dominant."

The beast wasn't consoled by Artie's explanation. He continued to fight to the surface. Well, until Artie thought: "Sit, boy! I'll eat extra steak at dinner tonight...Fine, it'll be raw...Oooh...don't make me drool!"

Artie gasped for breath and felt the weight of his inner beast disappear, seemingly content at the promise of reward. "Master...will you let me go?" he said, "I'm about to shift out of your...ack...hold. Something...small...And if I shift...That means..."

He struggled heroically and valiantly, a noble expression on his face.

Then he gave Alistair a goofy grin and lifted a shaking, feeble hand to say 'thumbs up'.

"I'd be totally naked in your bedroom!"

[/size]

[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

Ah, how much it wanted to tear this boy limb from limb, and watch in pure pleasure as he writhed in agony until his gradual death by bleeding out. But alas, this boy would be lucky. The pathetic man it cursed was all giddy from the sliver of intimate friendship he had for once obtained, which lead him to become horrendously attached to him. Disgusting. The monster inside of Alistair was one of fear, not love. If it hadn't been for the man threatening future meals over him, Artie would have met its death toll.

And plus there was that whole ordeal of him preventing Alistair from starving the both of them and whatnot.

The creature within Alistair shrugged its shoulders, its grip loosening to allow the boy to gradually slip out. Of course, however, the freedom that was once in Artie's grasp fell quickly away due to his snark. Shift into something small as he was held prisoner? Fine by him. And on any case human nudity was not something the monster particularly cared about. It maimed people, which was a heavy indication that it couldn't care less the condition their bodies were in.

"Hm, suit yourself. As for me, I would like to keep you in arm's reach. Did you really believe that your little immature threat would phase me? Hm, well, I figured that, while I have your attention, I shall get to know you a bit myself instead of through my host. Go nude, I could not care less."

You pervert!

The monster grumbled and shook Alistair's head to dispel it of his thoughts. It stepped aside from the bookshelf, all the while keeping the strangled Artie over its head. "So... Artisan..."It began, "I still am dumbfounded by your desire to free me from my weakening Alistair... Pray tell, what was your purpose? Monster to monster, please- I am eager to know." The monster casually strolled forth in the office, parading Artie around as if he were some sort of toy. Just before arriving at his desk Alistair's body stopped to look at Artie. In a motion not characteristic to the true ringmaster the monster softly ran a finger under Artie's jawline. "Hm. For being the barer of such a hideously disgusting beast you are a rather fine specimen of a young man... Shame you will never truly be either one of your designated sides. Too much of a monster to be human, too much of a human to be a monster. Really, it is a wonder how you have been excepted into so many other's lives. You lead a pointless existence, after all."

[/font]

[ARTISAN KIM]

“Not really,” said Artie, “It was just...to lighten up...the mood!” He grinned one last time at Alistair's body, as if talking to the Boogeyman was all good fun. “You're such a pervert...” he laughed, “Specimen? What are you...gonna do? Kiss me?”

POP!

The shift into a smaller creature happened in a split second, unlike the longer transformation needed to change into the beast. A pile of ragged clothes fell to the ground, along with a fluffy looking form – a small, harmless, silver-pelted wolf pup. The tiny creature scampered out of the clothes pile, but kept an exact arms length away from Alistair. Artie shook himself off and changed back into an almost human form with its back turned to Alistair.

To spare himself and Alistair some dignity, Artie grew out the tail until it was long enough to pool on the floor. Then, he wrapped it around his waist and lower body to spare himself some decency. The dangerous teeth were back, heightened senses kicked in, his ears were replaced with perky dog-like ones to pick up more sound, his fingers elongated and were topped with black claws like a monster, and his eyes blazed a hideous shade of yellow.

“Do I really need a purpose?” he laughed, “What if I just want to scavenge the bodies and find a big, juicy bone to chew on?”

His confidence seemed to die out when he thought about the monster's words, and felt them course through his mind and heart like poison. He'd picked out the number one thing that haunted Artie about his existence: “Too much of a monster to be human, too much of a human to be a monster.”

“You're wrong,” he said quietly, “They haven't accepted me.” Just like that, the demon had Artie in his control. Physical abuse meant nothing to the chimera, who'd only return with a crooked smile for more. It was the emotional abuse, the kind that crushed his cheerful spirit, that would break him. “No matter what I do, I'll never be seen as their equal. I'll never, ever be anything more than a pet to the girl I love. Most of the circus already thinks I'm about as valuable as a dog. But unlike you, I don't have a choice in whether I love them or not. Isn't that an awful fate for a monster? To be forced to love...even those he'd naturally hate and kill?”

The 'unconditional love' explanation was meant to be taken literally. A truthful, honest love formed from getting to know one another and bonding was what his relationship with Lilly, PJ, Carter, and Alistair had turned into. But everyone else? He automatically felt attached to them – as he was designed to do – and would be obedient to a fault. That's why it never took long for someone to 'win him over'. That's why Artie always behaved rudely and turned way when meeting someone, just to hold off the inevitable feelings of fake devotion for a few minutes longer. “You don't feel love, so you don't understand the pain.”

Why did he feel so much pain in his chest? “Even Alistair knows I can never act totally human,” he said softly, “But he humors me.” The chimera looked down at his claws, and flexed the monstrous looking fingers. “We both pretend that I'm human,” he said, “And for that...I'm so thankful, to have met Master!” A few tears welled in his eyes, blurred his vision, and rolled down his cheeks. The chimera took a deep breath and pressed a palm over his heart, as if it would hold back his overflowing emotions. “You really...shouldn't say stuff like that...” he gasped. Damnit. He couldn't let stupid words get to him like that! He knew better than to let words hurt him! Why...why did it hurt so much?

“Was my explanation good enough, master?” he asked, forcing his tears to stop, “Is that all you wanted to know?”

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[ALISTAIR PYREWICK]

The monster growled within Alistair's lips with the knowledge of just how insufferable his host's 'pet' was. He was an idiot that masked his fear by playing stupid. Perhaps one of the oldest tricks known to the bogeyman. No matter. It wasn't like Artie meant anything to it anyway. Truly, the monster simply desired to toy with the man before it made its grand re-debut. Now that it was in control of Alistair's body, which was useless at the time, it needed to have a little fun whilst buying itself time. This mentally unstable poor-excuse-of-a-lifeform would suffice just fine.

The monster reacted with utter indifference as Artie shifted himself out of the monster's grip. A wolf pup... Internally, Alistair was marveling at Artie's other ability as well as dwelling on how adorable he looked. Unfortunately, the monster's ice cold exterior demonstrated none of this. That disinterest eased into pure disgust as the dog mutated into a ugly hybrid of both man and animal. Why did all human-based monstrosities end up looking so hideous? The damned species could not even properly do mutations right. Artie really was all together pointless and pathetic.

Fortunately for the monster, it appeared its words did the damage it had desired to him. Wallowing in self pity... Ah, how splendid! Following his little outburst, the monster couldn't help but to raised Alistair's hands and clap them itself. "Bravo." The monster chuckled with a malicious grin. "You are exactly correct. Do not feel all that terrible, however... After all, you did manage to obtain a female companion in the first place. Do not be surprised if she treats you like the animal you are... Hm, in fact I would say you deserve it." With a psuedo-innocent tilt of its head the bogeyman reached forth and heartlessly scratched Artie's ears. "Oh child, your fate is reasonable. You were made this way. Not for yourself, but for the entertainment and pride of others. You are merely lucky to have been stricter by finances, anyhow. Humans are a selfish species. You should know this buy now." Another hollow smile was cast. "So really, you should stop complaining, spoiled brat. You have a purpose. You were made to be nothing more than an inferior living creature. A curse of love? Please, if I were Alistair's spirit I would have returned you to your laboratory to reap whatever benefits I may receive. You are lucky that you even have a fate outside of being bargained off for a pretty penny."

The soul of the true Alistair was beginning to go into a state of remission. He had physically felt himself being ripped from his earthly body to being present at the back of the monster's mind. All the dying voice could mumble was a simple plea. Artie, please... Do not listen to it.... Y-You mean so much more than it is making you out to be. Please Artie! Do not let it get to you! You are whatever you want to be... Human or no human, I will care about you just the same... Artie, I... The short thought had been interrupted by the mental struggle placed by Alistair's monster. Though it knew Alistair's attempt was futile it couldn't stand the fact that he still was present in its mind. He needed to fade away completely, before he possessed actual power to take back over the brain that was once his.

"Hm, I suppose." It answered softly, with a shrug of Alistair's borrowed shoulders. "I could have done without the emotion, however. I found it to be quite irritating." The monster walked casually over to its desk and sat upon its surface in a boastful position. As much as it hated being in the weak man's body, it still could not help but to feel liberated by being free once more. Truly, it wanted to bask in its own glory while it wrecked the confidence of the poor chimera. "I just... Hm, you know you really are fascinating. I can understand why Alistair chose you as a companion. Not as a friend, but as a pet." The monster arched Alistair's back to further relish itself. "As a human, you fail horrendously at what you are trying to accomplish. If only I were in your position right now. If Alistair was apart of my personality. I would push him aside and take over completely. It just feels so... Rewarding to be a monster. What have humans ever done for you? Create your pathetic existence? Ban you from a society for making one little slip up? Treated you like a dog while you were in a human mindset? If Lilly saw you in your beast form, I would doubt she would love you.. Hm, you should just succumb to you animal instincts. Be the beast. Permanently. You will do far better in this world behaving as you were intended." It casually listed a ball off the desk and rolled it across the floor, for Artie to chase.

"You may be too much of either side to be a pure monster or human, but, think about it- Which is easier for you to be in the mindset for? The human you have failed at being, or the monstrosity you will always be?"

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