Sorry about the long period between chapters, I am kind of slow writer and I have an abundance of other stuff in my life right now, so please excuse my slowness.

...

The doors of the clinic emptied directly into a small rectangular room with chairs pushed up against the walls. The room was painted a dull grey and emitted boredom like a farm animal might emit a bad smell. It actually hindered Anthony, made him sleepy. He yawned.

"This is the lobby, as you might have guessed." The Doctor said.

Anthony snapped out of his stupor and took a better look around. At the far end of the room was a reception desk, probably where patients check in. It appeared to be empty. It was still pretty early, the clinic was most likely not open yet. As Anthony looked around, he noticed a reoccurring picture of a small bald man with little eyes and large, round glasses. There were three pictures of this man, a mug-shot was stuck to the wall on the right, and on the left was a full body portrait. But most prominent was the one that hung at the end of the room behind the receptionist's desk, it appeared to be a picture of the small man shaking hands with a someone dressed in a suit, the two were on a stage behind a podium, and the small man appeared to have a medal around his neck.

"Hey, who's the-."

"-guy in all the photographs?" The doctor completed Anthony's question for him.

"Yeah." Anthony said.

The Doctor turned to the photo on the right wall and looked the small man directly in the eyes.

"He's the father of genetic manipulation." The Doctor said. "I am honestly surprised you haven't heard of him before." The Doctor turned and pointed to the photo that was hung behind the reception desk. "That's him there, receiving his Nobel Prize."

Anthony was dumb stuck, he had learned about the Nobel Prize in his history books. It had been discontinued in 2020, due to a lack of contestants for it. long story short: there wasn't a lot of good science to go around, and they wouldn't give the prize for the invention or innovation of a weapon.

"So that must have been..."

"2020, the last Nobel Prize ever rewarded. It's a damn shame." The doctor said. He sighed and shook his head. "Come on, fallow me." The doctor said.

...

Knock, knock, knock! The doctor rapped on the class door so hard that Anthony thought it would shatter. Booms like gunshots rang down the small hallway. The door in question belonged to the office of Joe Rioter, who's name was painted stylishly on the single pane of blurred glass that made up the door. Under his name in small, but imposing font, was: Genetic Manipulation Surgery Subject Matter Expert.

"COMFUMPFN!" The low voice that came from behind the door sounded as if the person it belonged to had, had his tongue chopped off. The doctor put his hand, or paw on the door knob and was about to open the door when he suddenly turned toward Anthony.

"Are you ready for this?" The doctor said. Anthony thought it was a strange question, but decided to think nothing of it. He nodded, and the doctor opened the door. Behind a desk at the far end of the room sat a very large being.

If you were somebody who had previously met Joe Rioter, the first thing you would notice upon entering his office on this day, was that he was trying to stuff three large donuts in his mouth at once, thus rendering his speech impaired.

However, you happened to be an individual that had never before met Joe (like poor Anthony Ray) the first thing you would notice upon laying eyes on him was that he was bear, and then the donuts would probably fallow close behind, if you stayed in the room long enough to notice.

There are phobias, then there's fear, and then there's being absolutely scared shitless, which was about what Anthony was feeling right at that moment.

Anthony's back was pressed against the wall as he watched the bear-man shovel down donuts like they were cashews. Anthony's mouth was clenched tight and eyes were wide with fear.

To Anthony's astounding surprise, the doctor approached the bear man with a calm, casual stride. Anthony knew that at any moment the bear man would jump out of his chair and bite the doctor's head off. But the doctor didn't seem to care.

"Morning, Joe." The Doctor said.

The bear-man shoveled down three more donuts in a time period of about 2 seconds before answering.

"How you doin'" Joe said.

"Not bad." The doctor said as he shook hands with the bear man.

"Sorry about the mess." 'mess' was an understatement, the bear-mans desk was covered in empty Dunkin Donuts bags and sheets of wax paper that were filled with crumbs. The bear-man's shirt looked as though the cookie monster had vomited all over it.

"Don't worry, I'm used to it by now." The doctor said.

"Right! Like your office is any better!"

"Hey, at least I'm presentable." The doctor said, looking at the bear-man's crumb-laden shirt.

"Presentable! Ha! Since when is leather jacket and jeans fit into the work-wear etiquette code?"

"Since when do I give a damn about that?" the doctor said jokingly.

"Since the boss told you to give a damn about it!"

"Hey, if he wants me to by new clothes, he's gonna have to give me a raise! And plus, I don't think I could bring myself to cut a tail-hole in a designer suit."

"I hear you there." The bear man bellowed in his deep voice. They both laughed. Then the bear-man saw Anthony.

"Who the hell are you?" the bear man said. Anthony almost shit his pants right then and there.

"I'm...I'm a, uh." Anthony stuttered

"He's a reporter." The doctor said.

"And why the hell is he here?"

"Because he wants to know everything about the extraordinary work you do here." The doctor said sarcastically.

"But... but!" the bear-man said.

"No buts! I have clients today, you don't, so he's going to hang out with you for a while." The doctor turned around and started walking to the door.

"Why can't he just go with you?" the bear man said pleadingly.

The doctor stopped in the door way and turned around. "The last thing any of my patients want is a reporter sitting the room with them during there therapy session, pull your head out of your ass, Joe."

"Cant you stick him with Renderton?"

"Ha! Good joke Joe." The doctor said as he walked out of the office, leaving Anthony alone with the bear man.

The bear-man looked into Anthony's eyes and spoke one word:

"Shit."

...

Ryan continued down the narrow hall way. Chuckling to himself. I'm sure those two will get along nicely! He thought.

He continued down the hallway a few more yards before getting to the office he wanted. The door was wide open as per-usual. He peeked inside and saw Renderton with his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair and reading a news paper that covered his face.

The doctor knocked on the inside of the door frame.

"Renderton!" he practically shouted.

Renderton didn't even flinch. "What is it Maxfield?" He said dryly.

Ryan leaned up against the wall, inside of the door way.

"You know what I've been thinking, Renderton?"

"Ha! You, Think? That's a good joke!"

"You would be lying if you said it didn't take half your brain power to formulate that insult!"

Renderton put down his paper, revealing the furry face of the husky-Para-human.

"What the fuck do you want, Maxfield?"

"Well, I've decided that you make more money then I do..."

"And you figured this out... When, exactly?" He said sarcastically.

"So I have decided to steal it all from you tonight at poker!" Ryan said.

"Oh, well that's to bad! I was planning on using that paycheck to go out to a nice restaurant, you know, one of the ones where you have to where suits, but you wouldn't anything about that would you? And then I would probably go back to the house that I actually own and make sweat love to a very nice young woman. What are you doing this weekend?"

" 'nice restaurant' my ass! They would throw your furry ass out the fucking window!" Ryan said as he lit up a cigarette.

"Hey! No smoking in my office, Ass hole."

"Free fucking country, I can smoke where ever I damn well please!"

"I don't what your talking about, my office is no free fucking country, now get the fuck out before I kick your ass!"

"What are going to do Renderton, dog-sled race me to death? Now get back to work you over-paid ass."

"Go fuck yourself Maxfield!"

"I don't have to; I've got your mom!"

"Get the fuck out, I've got work to do."

"Right." Ryan took his cue to leave, knowing that he had won.

...

Ryan loved his office, in fact, it was probably the only part of his job that he liked. It was by far the biggest, mostly because his office was also the therapy room. He had two large, comfortable sofas, and a Lazy-Boy chair where he sat during the sessions. It was livable, but by no means clean, Ryan thought the clutter made the office more-homey, and his patients agreed. Next to his computer was a mini-fridge that was always well stocked with beer and other poor-man's delicacies.

Ryan sat down in his Lazy-Boy, and leaned back. Hoping to catch a little more sleep before his first patient showed up. But no such luck.

"Excuse me, Doctor Maxfield?"

Ryan opened his eyes and saw a man standing in his office doorway. The man was skinny, rather short (probably about 5' 8") and was clearly of Asian dissent. He looked at Ryan with a rather disappointed facial expression, like a little boy on Christmas morning, holding a toy he hadn't asked for.

"Yeah, what?" Ryan said in an annoyed tone.

The man cleared his throat. "I'm a psychiatrist with the union and..."

"What the hell does the union want from me? I'm not a member and have no intention of signing up." Ryan said as he sat up in his chair.

The man from the union was clearly getting annoyed. "Me and other union committee members recently discussed the mental stability of some of the more accomplished psychiatrists. The theory is, is that maybe some shrinks are so good at what they do because they can identify with there patients." Ryan did not like where this was going. "And so it was decided that therapy sessions should be set up for... um... select psychiatrists in this area. And your name is on the list."

"So you're here to give me therapy?" Ryan ha genuine anger in his voice. But the union man didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, in fact if you have some time, it would be good to get a quick session in right now." The union man sat down one of Ryan's sofas and pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Now, lets start with your child hood."

Ryan could not fucking believe this. His large jaw hung open and his tongue fell out of the side of his mouth, which was something that Ryan never allowed to happen. Was this guy completely serious, or was this some kind of joke that Renderton had set up? Either way, Ryan wasn't happy.

"Get out of my office." Ryan said.

"Excuse me?" the union man said as he looked up from his note sheet.

"You're going to leave my office now, or your going to leave with a broken nose!"

...

20 years earlier...

If you're talking about a kid named Thomas Winter, you're talking about a kid with a hard life. You're talking about a kid who lived with his unemployed mother in a two room apartment. You're talking about a kid who spent the better part of his freshman year in high school getting the crap beaten out of him. You're talking about a kid that was too weak for sports, too dumb for algebra, and too uncharismatic to get a girl friend. If the kid you're talking about fits all of those requirements, then yeah, you're talking about Thomas Winter.

Now don't get me wrong, just because he wasn't a math wiz didn't mean that Thomas wasn't smart. Quite on the contrary, Thomas was actually quite a logical thinker, but when it came down to the specifics, that's were he was at fault.

After that first year of absolute torture, he made a resolution: if he couldn't beat them, then he would just have to join them. He built a whole scientific method around being a bully. It had three parts:

1: Confrontation. Approach the victim and assert you're authority. Insult them, take something away from them (i.e. lunch money, electronics), and claim your territory, such as a strip of hallway, a large empty storage closet, or a rec/lunch/class room. Think strategically when claiming your territory, it should be someplace that the victim has to pass through often.

2: Interrogation. You must find out something bad about them, either by eavesdropping, or by stealing a personal papers/diary/journal. You should have at least four discriminating facts about the victim before moving on to step three.

3: Alienation. Now that you have some discriminating evidence, spread it like a virus. You may not be able to get to the popular people straight away. But tell every one that you can get to, eventually it will filter through the grape vine to the jocks and preppies, and then the victim is really in for it.

Over the summer vacation, Thomas spent a lot of time making connections, and by the time the school year rolled around he had a crew of about four big guys, and one little guy to make Thomas look bigger by comparison.

Every thing was all set in place. He was just missing one thing: a victim. He spent the entire first week of school scoping out possible victims, but to no avail. Then on the Monday of the second weak, an announcement came over the PA system:

"Alright, listen up! Tomorrow we will have a special new student attending our school. his appearance may be strange, but I want every body here to welcome him with open arms, after all he is just like you and me on the inside." The principles voice cut off and a huge smile spread across Thomas's face. They had never done that before, this new kid must be really fucked up so that they would announce it over the intercom. He had found his victim.

For the rest of day, everybody was gossiping about the new kid, and why he was so special that they would announce it over the PA. Thomas heard a lot of theories, the most popular of which being that he was extraordinarily ugly. This of course was not the case.

When Thomas got home he found his mother sitting on the old weathered couch that took up most of the living space. Thomas was really proud of his mother, even after Thomas's father had left them and she had lost her job, she still refused to touch a single drop of alcohol, and was a very level-headed women.

She was sitting and watching the television when Thomas walked in. When she noticed that Thomas was there, she beckoned him over to the couch and said.

"Thomas, come look at this. This crazy guy just got a Nobel Prize!"

Thomas walked over to TV and saw a little bald man having a medal placed around his neck by a guy in a suit.

"Wow, what did he do?" Thomas asked.

"Apparently he can, like, turn people into animals or something like that!"

"Trippy." Thomas said as he watched the bald man shake hands with the guy in the suit.

Thomas's mom patted the cushion next to her. "Want to come and watch?" she asked.

Thomas shook his head. "I've got a bunch of homework to do."

"Well, okay." His mom said kind of disappointed.

...

It was Tuesday and it was already lunch, but Thomas still hadn't caught sight of this new student that was all the talk yesterday. He was sitting at table with his crew, eating lunch. The guys in his crew weren't exactly his friends. I think the best way to describe them would be like the people who you are friends with on FaceBook: temporary, delete-able, and ultimately useless for anything but what you acquired them for. In the case of Facebook, the use would be having mindless chats with them while the post-masturbation depression simmers down after watching porn. In Thomas's case, they were just his little minions that helped spread the misery around.

Then some lower classmen burst into the cafeteria, and shouted. "He's in the rec-room! He's in the rec-room!" All of Thomas's lackey's looked at him and waited for an order. He nodded, and they all stood up and fallowed the lower classmen out of lunch room.

There were about ten other kids that had fallowed Thomas and his gang to the rec-room. Apparently every body else had already seen him or didn't care. Thomas was surprised, this new kid was all the talk yesterday. Although, on the way to the rec-room, Thomas did pass to girls that were giggling to each other as they walked from the rec-room. This is all he caught of there conversation:

"Oh. My. God! I didn't even know they existed!" Thomas was really intrigued by this. Could it possibly be a new level of ugliness that only existed in science fiction? Thomas had to get a look at this guy.

He burst through the rec-room doors. The school rec-room was small, only about 300 square feet. It had a carpeted floor and low hanging lights that were always very dim. Up against the walls of the rec-room were couches and chairs for people to sit in. Normally, when you entered the rec-room, you would find people sitting these chairs doing home work or hanging out and chatting, but today, every body was to busy staring at the figure in the center of the room. Thomas could not believe his eyes.

The back of the kids head was covered in dark-grey fur and large ears protruded from the top of his head. His face looked exactly like that of a wolf. His large canine teeth shown through his gums. But most visually assaulting of all was the tail that hung down from a hole in his pants. Thomas watched in aw as the kid chalked a pool cue.

Thomas looked behind him at his crew and nodded, they would proceed, but with caution. Then he noticed that Ben Wingmen was in the room, standing in a corner watching. Ben was the Jedi master - if you wish to call it that - of bullying. He was a popular jock and was the responsible for most of Thomas's misery during freshman year. If Thomas could impress him, he would have an easy time of it all the way through sophomore year.

"Hey, you!" Thomas yelled. The kid's large ears perked up and his head turned toward Thomas. "What the hell are you doing here?" Thomas demanded. The kid just shrugged, clearly not taking the hint. "I said, what the hell are you doing here?" Thomas demanded again.

"Well, it's either here or your mom's bedroom, and she's got another customer today so that isn't an option." The kid said with a smirk.

Thomas was perplexed, he hadn't considered retaliation. "I think you should leave." Thomas said.

The wolf-kid looked him straight in the eyes. It was kind of disturbing, but Thomas stood his ground. "Why, I am perfectly fine right here." The kid smiled menacingly at Thomas.

"I think that you didn't quite understand me: Get the fuck out, or we will break your face!"

"Are you sure you want to go there?" the kid said this like he was giving Thomas a last warning. His tail wagged slowly behind him.

"Get out!" Thomas said.

"I think not!" the kid broke the pool cue over his knee, instantly creating two sharpened weapons that he pointed at Thomas and his gang. "What do want to go first; your brains or your balls?"

Although he didn't show it, Thomas was freaking out. He had never expected this kind of retaliation. He didn't want to get into to fight with this kid, he was just fallowing rule # 1.

"Wow, Wow, wow!" Thomas shouted as he and his party took a step back. "There's no need for that!"

"Right." the kid said still pointing the sticks at Thomas.

"We were just joking around, dude."

"Who's 'we'?" the wolf-kid said with a grin. Thomas looked behind him and found that his crew had abandoned him while he was distracted.

"Oh shit." Thomas said with a sigh.

"Yeah that's right. Are you finished now?" the kid said. Thomas nodded. The kid put the two broken pieces of the pool cue on the table and pointed to something behind Thomas. "Could you hand me that duct-tape?" some body picked it up and threw it to him. After he put a few layers of tape around the pool cue, connecting it back together, he placed it on the table and said: "Now, does anybody want to play some pool?" Shit, was this kid bi-polar or something? A few seconds ago he was setting the standard for not-to-be-fucked-with, and now he wants to play pool!

Thomas had a few options right now. A, he cold just leave, but this would show defeat, which would surely be fallowed by another year of misery. Or B, he could reopen his attack, but if he did that, he could get the crap beaten out of him, or worse.

The wolf-kid's grin wavered as all of the other people in the room just stared at him, refusing to take him up on his offer for a game. They just... stared at him, like they were at the fucking zoo. So Thomas did the unthinkable.

"Yeah sure, I'll play some pool." The kid raised an eyebrow but didn't retort.

Thomas walked up to him and raised a hand. "Hey, I'm Thomas, Thomas Winter." The kid was clearly hesitant, but slowly brought up his right hand and shook. Thomas had to admit that it was kind of weird shaking that paw-hand hybrid that the kid sported.

"Ryan Maxfield." He said as he lowered his hand. He folded his arms and looked Thomas up and down. "So..." he said.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that whole charade. It's a dog-eat-dog world in this place, no pun intended."

"Wolf, not dog." He said. "And I would give that whole speech about why picking on other people is bad, but acting like my mom generally doesn't make for a good first impression."

"I hear you there." Thomas said, chuckling too himself a little.

Thomas walked over to the rack and got himself a pool cue while Ryan set up the triangle. Most of the other people in the rec-room had gone back to there own business. But Ben Wingman was still watching them, fire burning in his eyes.

"So, are you from around here?" Thomas said as he put some chalk on the end of his pool cue.

"Yeah. Been living here all my life." Ryan said.

"I am surprised I didn't notice or here about you before."

"I haven't exactly gotten a lot of sunlight."

"I see." Thomas lined up his shot. "So uh... where did you, uh..."

"Come from?"

"Yeah."

"Well, despite what you may have heard, I'm not some weird government experiment. Apparently that's the rumor that's floating around."

"Haven't heard that one yet, but I'm sure I will." Thomas said as he lined up the breaking shot. He shot, the balls went everywhere. One stray solid dunked in one of the corner holes. "Looks like I am up by one."

"Not for long." Ryan lined up his shot. It bounced of the side, hit a striped ball that was sitting next to one of the side wholes and then bounced back and nailed another one that went all the way across the table into a corner.

"So, where did you come from then, Mr. Area 51?"

"It's along story."

"I've got no quarrel with skipping geometry." Thomas said, as he watched Ryan dunk another ball.

"Well, first off, it wasn't my choice. It was parents, before I was even born. My parents got into the program early as, quote-unquote, 'test subjects.'"

Thomas was intrigued "What program?"

"As of yesterday, becoming, like me, per-say, is a commercial service. You can get it done to your self just like you can get a guy to set you up with cable." Ryan sunk his last ball before the 8, Thomas didn't really care.

"No shit? Are other, um... options?"

"Oh yeah, as long as it has a dick and at least two limbs, you can be it."

"Damn. So how did your parents get in early? I'm not gonna even ask why!"

"Let's just say that my parents are, very comfortable." Ryan said, scoping out the best way to take the shot at the 8 ball.

"Oh I see, there rich." Thomas said, mocking Ryan's attempt to not make a big thing out of it.

"Well if you have to put it that way..." Ryan said lining up his shot.

"So, are you very comfortable?" Thomas said.

Ryan sighed. "If my parents gave my every dollar they ever owned, I don't think that I could bring myself to wipe my ass with it."

...

Hope you liked the second part! Reviews and comments are what drives me, If you want more, make sure to leave something in the area below!