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When Eric woke up, he tilted his head upright, unable to see anything correctly. He tried to move his arms, but could not due to his handcuffs. He realized he was sitting on a wooden chair, with his legs and hands tied to it, and was positioned in front of a long, wooden, rectangular table, with another chair at the opposite end. He could not remember exactly what had happened before he got there, and could not think about it without feeling exhausted. He looked around to see walls, around 20 meters apart, which seemed old and ruined. The ceiling was also very high, which Eric judged to be around 10 meters. Everything was rusty and damp, with small rays of sunlight shining through the few wood-barricaded windows there were in the room.

He then remembered being blindfolded in a police car, and shifting into his dragon form thanks to berserk mode, but everything was blank after that. Why did he shift back? Why was the dragon refraining from shifting, now that he could not move again? Those questions were quickly thrown aside when he saw the man who was at the front of the police car, in a chair, watching him wake up from the other side of the room. He locked eyes with him, and once the man noticed, he slowly got to his feet, and walked in his direction. Eric found his businessman attire and smile quite deceiving, for reasons unknown to him.

As the man sat on the chair across from him, Eric avoided eye contact. He seemed fairly old, but his dark hair said otherwise. After an awkward moment of silence, the man spoke.

"Hello, Eric", he addressed, in a serious but calm manner. He did not receive a response, so he continued. "How's it going?"

Eric seemed irritated already. "Fuck you."

This prompted a few chuckles from the man, who grinned and dismissed the comment. "Okay. In case you didn't know, I'm Tom Benson, head of the CIA. I handled most of your case, and it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face." He took a pause. "You know, we've been looking all over for you. From the minute you killed those two innocent boys at your high school, to this morning when you tried to hijack that airplane."

"I killed them in self-defense, you dipshit", he corrected, promptly. "They tried to kill me first, along with 50 other people. And I didn't hijack the plane, they simply got scared of me and tried to attack me while I was taking what was a peaceful plane ride to New York. But of course, you and your fucking media have to screw me over and spread your filthy lies."

"We're just telling the story according to what we know. Isn't that what the media is supposed to do?"

"Fuck you", Eric spat once more.

For the first time, Tom did not laugh. "Okay. Let's get to business. What were you planning to do with your passport?"

"I don't have a passport."

"Of course you do. You flew to Puerto Vallarta a few years ago, now isn't that right?"

Eric briefly recalled his vacation, which was the reason he acquired his passport in the first place. "Yeah, but I don't have it with me."

"So, how did you suppose you would make your trip to Moscow tonight without a passport?"

At the sound of the word "Moscow", he thought of Diane and her mistake over the payment of his flight. He wondered if she was okay, or if she had died because of his dragon form. He tried to act unintelligent, imitating a child's tone of voice. "I don't know."

"Well, apparently you do know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Eric's fake passport, which he had received from Gerald. "You got this in Fargo, right?"

"No, that's not mine."

Tom casually played along. "Oh, my mistake." He flipped the booklet open and turned the first page. "This belongs to... Fred McNeil. And look; he looks just like you! Now I see how we made this error. My mistake."

Eric was silent, but Benson continued. "Passport forgery is a year of prison time, in case you didn't know. But of course, that's the least of your problems." Tom lifted himself from his chair, and walked around Eric and the table. "Let's see; you stole three cars, broke into a house, trespassed into an airport, surpassed the speed limit thrice, evaded police arrest, illegally fired a firearm, possessed an illegal firearm, and got into an illegal gunfight with an illegal firearm which was possessed illegally. To my calculations, that's about 24 years in prison in total, meaning you'd get out of jail once you reach 41 years-old." He went up to Eric's ear. "How does that feel?"

Eric avoided another response as the head of the CIA walked around the table once more. "Not talking, huh? Well, that's fine. I'm not done. You killed an innocent woman and an Indian for their cars, killed a security guard to get in and out of an airport, killed two people in a plane because they got "scared" of you, killed eight of our best team members in the country, and, last but not least, you killed Matt."

Eric's eyes grew at the speed of sound. Killed? "What the fuck did you do to him?!"

Tom laughed at his reaction. "Oh, nothing really. We - or if I may, I - hit him a few times, shot him twice, and sent him into a state of shock. He died of asphyxiation. All of that because he didn't want to tell us where your stinking rat's ass was heading. Preventable? Yes. Sad? Yes. Worth it? Oh yes."

Eric was struggling to contain himself. He did not understand how they could have killed Matt for a simple piece of information he apparently managed to receive in the end. He was shaking everywhere, and it was very visible. "You... fiend!"

"Don't get mad; or, not yet, at least. You also led us to Xavier, whom we interrogated as well. We probably would have ended by killing him, but he spilled everything you told him before we even got the chance to think about it. What a friend he was, right?" Eric's breathing was much harder by that moment. "You killed Diane as well, by choosing her house and letting her join your party." He took a beat. "That's right, she was pronounced dead an hour ago."

Eric's anger quickly retracted itself and turned into regret and sadness. He was right - he had killed her. He had killed an innocent person; someone who had nothing to do with him in the first place. Someone he did not have to kill. His stare fell down to the floor as he shook, eyes watering. He let out an incomprehensible mumble as well, proving to Tom he had hit the spot. "Don't like that, do you? Did you know the car you stole from that Indian family was their biggest possession? They had nothing else to sell when they couldn't pay their rent last April, and they were looking for a source of income. But you took that away."

"Please...", he begged, tears dripping down his cheeks, head pointed to the ground. "Just, stop..."

"How about that woman you killed for her car, in Thunder Bay? She had a husband and three kids inside her house, waiting for her to come home after a busy day at work. But you took that away from them too."

"I said stop!", he yelled, the anger slowly returning to him as he struggled to sustain himself.

Tom walked away from the table, in the opposite direction of Eric, raising his voice to match the volume of his original position. "Gerald? Oh, he was only the second most successful graphic designer in Fargo and number one in popularity for individually-led companies across North Dakota! Markus, our squad leader? He trained 17 years for us and quickly became a champion at Tae Kwon Do, Tai Chi, and Judo. He spent his entire life learning how to fight and kill people, as well as track them down! And Diane." He walked back to the table slowly. "Oh Diane... she had a great job, travelled to many places, and almost married. She could have studied at a hair school and become highly successful! But no!" He slammed his fist against the table and pointed furiously at Eric. "You took that away from her! You took that away from all of them! You placed your own goals in front of other people, completely ruining their lives, and killing them! And you had the nerve to call me a fiend!"

Eric had enough. His trembling was off the scale, and his mind was about to explode. He took a large breath and then yelled at the top of his lungs, shaking in his chair, to the point of nearly tipping over. His face reddened, his fists clenched together, and his nails pierced through his own skin, causing blood to drip. "Stop it! Shut the fuck up! You fucking ass wipe!" He forced himself to transform, but nothing happened. The veins on his neck, arms, head and hands bulged, pumping blood at an alarming rate. He frantically worried over why he had not shifted, and Tom noticed this, seeing it was not the first time. He laughed, mocking him.

"Oh, Eric. You act exactly like Matt did."

"What have you done to me?!" He looked at his arms, trembling, not knowing why.

"You've had it done before. When you were little, we didn't want a dragon running around a human world. So, we developed a nice little invention called the cancer stabilizer. It froze the glands which mass produced the cancer cells which caused your transformation. After a certain amount of uses, it froze the glands for a long period of time, eventually killing them. Cool, isn't it? That's what we used in the police car on the way here, and it apparently still has its effect. But don't worry; it won't last much longer. You'll be able to shift into your other self again soon enough."

Eric calmed down once again, realizing nothing he did would affect his outcome. "Is... that the stuff my parents gave me when I was born?"

"Correct. We gave it to you in order to stop you from transforming into your dragon form. However, something obviously went wrong, because you're... still a dragon."

"Then why don't you just rip them out yourself with your own filthy, grubby hands, hmm? Ever thought that would be much faster?"

"Of course we did. Thing is, the glands bond with your heart in order to increase the speed of the exchange of cancer cells. Ripping it out, would have been like ripping out your entire left ventricle. So, we had to take the long way; unless of course, you wanted to die instead."

Eric pondered for a moment. His parents told him they had stopped giving the treatment because he was getting sick. "Why did I get sick?", he wondered. It did not seem normal to him. Eric watched Tom Benson continue to walk around the room. "Why do you hate dragons so much? I'm most likely the only one alive on this planet, so what do you have to worry about?"

"Why would we allow a species like you reproduce?"

"One or two dragons per generation? How the hell will that affect anything? If we start something, you can use all of the fucking nukes you leach out of our country every year to wipe us out. Big fucking deal. Let me go!"

"It's not that simple, Eric. I would rather kill you now than to suffer the consequences sooner or later."

Eric began to feel delusional. "What, you're going to kill me now?!"

"Of course not, silly. You're too much of an asset to be killed. We could take a sample of your DNA and analyze how it was made, compare it with other DNA, and possibly create new species out of it. Actually, I'm disclosing too much. We have _many_more possible things in store for you. I mean, we can't imprison a dragon for life. That would be much too risky. Why not make something out of you?"

"This guy is a nut job...", Eric thought. "He's keeping me alive in order to experiment on me. I'd be a stupid guinea pig to them!"

"Now, I'm sure you would rather not have such a thing happen to you. Isn't that correct? I'm sure you would much rather live a regular life with regular friends in a regular house, wouldn't you?"

Eric was trying to figure out what the edge in his voice was implying. "What are you saying...?"

Tom sat down on the edge of the table, in a much more informal way. "Eric, we're ready to give you a deal. You're currently facing a hefty charge of twelve life sentences. We aren't able to place you in a maximum security prison due to your current stature. In fact, if it wasn't for the death penalty being abolished five years ago, you'd be restrained on a table a few months from now, ready to face death row. We would now be forced to keep you captive in secret, conducting tests, experiments, etc. We don't want to do that, but we cannot allow you to run free in your dragon form either.

"Remember the cancer stabilizer I was talking about? Well, our scientists have recently discovered a new formula which allows us to freeze the glands in only a few short seconds, immediately rendering it useless, and after a day or two, it detaches itself from the heart, compared to years with the old formula." He pulled a syringe from his pocket, containing a small dosage of a blue liquid. "Think about it, Eric; no more dragon hunts, no more freak attacks by other students, no more news coverage, no more hijacking accusations, no more running, and best of all, no more irregular life. I know how much you hate it, and I know, deep down, you'd want it all gone."

Eric stared blankly across the room. It was extremely tempting to do. "I'm listening..."

"Good. If you choose to accept this offer, we'll grant you access to our criminal protection program. You'll have a new identity, a new house, a new car, a new scholarship, a new job, and a new life. All you have to do is take this injection, and sign a legal non-disclosure agreement, stating you will never reveal what we've given you and what we've told you. That's it. We'll leave you alone after that."

Eric fidgeted. He loved his dragon form, he really did. The freedom acquired when he shifted was just what he had always wanted in life. He had constant protection for himself, and he was finally better than everyone else for the first time in his life. However, all of the deaths he had, and would have caused in the future would have taken too much of a toll on his conscience. He would have always been on the run, taking chances, and leading a very unstable and stressful life. As a matter of fact, when he thought about it, he would have been a guinea pig for the remainder of his life, unable to do anything he pleased. He would have been incarcerated for life, away from society, and away from his freedom. He had no other choice.

"Well?", Tom questioned, in a serious tone, as he watched Eric think. "What do you want to do? Serve a life sentence, or be free again?"

Before Eric could even answer, the dragon appeared in his head, signaling that the temporary cancer stabilizer had worn off. "Eric... don't do this. He's lying. Something's fishy."

Eric revolted. "Shut up, shut the hell up! I've had enough of you! You've ruined my entire life, and forced me to kill so many people I never wanted to kill. I'm sick of you!"

"Eric... listen. He killed Matt and forced Xavier to reveal our location, which in turn caused us to kill those people. It's not our fault, it's theirs! The only reason I took over in berserk mode was because it was the best for us. If I had not taken over in the woods, we would have died. If I had not stopped you from getting to Matt in the SWAT car, they would have found and killed us. If I had not fought in the airplane, we would have been killed. If I had not stopped you from going back for Diane, we would have been captured when we landed... do you see the pattern? If you don't take this injection, and we escape, we'll go to Moscow, and be free in the dragon colony. I won't bother you ever again..."

Eric did not believe a word he spoke. "Liar! You'll continue to haunt me for the rest of my life, forcing me to live like a fucking animal! I'm taking the injection."

There was a moment of silence in Eric's mind as the dragon backed off. "Goodbye then."

Eric looked up toward Tom Benson, and nodded. "Alright. I'll take the deal."

"Good", he acknowledged with a smile. "It'll be the best for both you and the whole world." He approached Eric with the needle, and placed it into his left arm. Eric felt a sharp sting, and did not feel very comfortable, but once Tom took it out, he felt nothing more than a small burn.

He relaxed, knowing that the dragon inside him had been frozen, and was in the process of leaving his system. Eric looked forward to leading a completely new life, away from the recklessness of his former self. Tom spoke. "Perfect. Now I'll just get you to sign this non-disclosure agreement form." He took out a pen and three sheets of paper, hung together by a staple, and then slid it over to Eric to sign. "All I need is your signature, and your name in print at the bottom."

"Thank you."

Tom backed off, after temporarily removing Eric's handcuffs, and sat in his chair, smiling. "It's my pleasure."

Eric took a quick overview of the first two paragraphs of the agreement. Seeing it would have been a very long read with many incomprehensible terms, Eric decided to simply sign and write his name down at the bottom. He pushed the pages back to Tom, who smiled as he placed them back in his pocket. In an unexpected move, he took another page out, and gave the pen back to Eric. The former questioned this.

"What's this supposed to be?"

"It's just another form about the criminal protection program. Sign it as well."

Eric's eyes flinched for a few moments, and signed it as well. He handed the paper back to Tom, who smiled once more, placed it in his pocket, and got up. He went over to Eric, still tied into his chair, and placed the handcuffs back onto Eric's hands.

"Uhh, what are you doing?", Eric inquired, confused.

Tom replied with a smile. "I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of 15 people, evading arrest, various traffic violations --"

Eric interrupted him abruptly. "What?! I thought you said I was free!"

Benson laughed. "Eric, you clearly do not know how to spot a con artist. If you would have read the second agreement completely, you would have known that by signing it, you agree to being free, on the condition that, and I quote, 'no governmental officials, police officers, members of the senate or the government, have been injured or killed by the actions of the signing party'. In other words, since you've killed a police officer at the airport, the contract is considered void, and you are still under arrest. Also, the first contract still states you are not allowed to disclose the information regarding today, in addition to, and I quote once again, 'being legally killed if the signing party refuses to abide by [the] contract'. So, in resume, you're still under arrest for your crimes, and you cannot disclose anything we've done today to anyone except for me, with a penalty of being killed by us if you do. Here's a lesson; read the fine print."

Eric was shocked. The dragon was right. "You... you... sick bastard!"

"I prefer to be called 'Tom', thank you very much." With that said, Benson let out a long, irritating laugh, proud to have duped the 17 year-old kid he had long awaited to capture.

Suddenly, Eric heard a voice. "Eric... the injection did not work." It was the dragon.

"What?!", Eric yelled internally. In secret, Eric concentrated on his hands, making sure Tom was not aware of what he was doing. Indeed, Eric's hands shifted to his dragon claws in a flash. He was stunned. He would have never predicted the injection would not have worked on him. He thought maybe the formula was incorrect, or that he had a resistance of some sort to counter it. It did not matter very much to him at the time, however; Eric needed to get out of there. Quietly, he shifted his feet, arm and leg muscles into his other form.

While Tom was wiping the tears away from his eyes from his laughter, Eric shattered both of the handcuffs' chain with a giant yank, and shifted his face into his dragon muzzle. Benson noticed this, but Eric was much too fast. He flipped the large wooden table over in fury, which fell onto the unsuspecting CIA leader, knocking him beneath it. Eric continued the assault with a large breath of fire, which immediately caught onto the wood-based table and engulfed everything under it, including the chair. He stepped back and watched the table turn into a large fireball, when suddenly, Tom kicked it off of himself with such force, that not only did it hit into Eric, but sent him flying ten meters away as well. He landed painfully to the floor, with the table breaking into pieces beside him.

When Eric sat up from the sudden counter-attack, he looked up to see the head of the CIA up, fists clenched, and furious. Eric did not understand how he could have withstood such a blaze. He got up, shifted into the rest of his form, and listened to Tom's next words. "So, this is how it's going to be, huh? Well, two can play at that game..."

Benson took a stance, and showed signs of a transformation. Eric then understood how he had resisted the fire and the table, but he never would have expected to see what came next. Like the grand majority of TFRs, Benson started off by growing fur - thick, black fur, which measured five centimeters long. His hands grew bigger, and pushed out claws from his fingers, which were abnormally long and sharp. The same thing occurred in his feet, with the addition of hind legs. Then, the abnormal part began; he grew several inches taller, clocking a whole foot higher than his original height of 5'12". His tail was also very different than that of a regular TFR; it resembled that of a wolf's, however it had a large, pointed spike at the end, somewhat matching Eric's. His muscles grew larger, and strangely, he became a hunchback; he was forced to bend forward to an angle of about 75°, while his upper back grew in size. His figure had shifted to match that of a wolf's muzzle, but it was awkwardly larger than the rest of his face, and hid much of his sight; that was fixed when his eyes grew bigger, and shifted up his face a few inches higher. His ears pointed, as well as his teeth, - especially his canines - and his torso overall tripled in width. The final change took place as his neck pushed out a few centimeters, giving him more flexibility toward the angular rotation of his head.

Benson let out a growl as he finished, leaving Eric flabbergasted; he had never been a witness to such a creature, and doubted its existence. It let out a large roar after tilting its head back, grasping the feeling of the power rushing inside him. It then proceeded to talk to Eric, with an extremely deep voice.

"I have a feeling this will be very enjoyable."