Red filled his vision. He could feel his life slipping away from him, almost like trying to catch a ball that was just barely out of his grasp, slipping away relentlessly. Something in his distorted mind sparked his interest; one simple question.

Why am I still alive?

How long had he been kneeling there like that, trying to hold on to his fleeting existence? In one instant, the half-dead James Bland stood up. A rage was in his eyes, and courage filled him. Why was he still alive? For one moment, that question filled his mind. It gave him a strength he didn't know he had.

"Do you think the experiments worked a little too well Drake?" Luther asked.

"I didn't expect him to live this long. This is totally unprecedented by any of our patients. Even our most optimistic outcomes didn't predict anything like this."

James Bland simply stared forward, but the knife through his gut was the least of his problems at that point. It had lessened to a dull ache. He was dizzy, he felt like falling over, giving up.

"Bring him back. We need to run further tests." Drake said.

James' vision went dark.

When James Bland awoke, we was in a metallic grey room. One door on the far side away from the bed he was lying on. One mirror and a sink in the corner. A small hallway led to a bathroom.

That was all he could see through his groggy vision, all he could see from turning his head.

He reached down to his abdomen, expecting to find a blade sticking out. Nothing but bandages. He tried to remember what happened. One thought kept popping up over and over again.

Mom.

While she'd escaped out the window, he hid under the bed. He told her he needed to face Luther. To face Madskull.

"James, I'm not letting you do this. I'm your mother, and I'm saying you can't."

"My childhood was killed along with Dad. My innocence is long gone. I've killed, I've lied, I've done things I'm not proud of. It's all part of being an agent. Please, let me atone."

"You think my hands are clean? I lost the right to call myself innocent too. You don't see me going around killing people to atone for some nebulous amount of sins."

"You don't have a crazy ex and her private army to worry about."

"Granted, you have a point. Bland, leave with me. We can't take them on, none of us can."

"It's my job. Go Mom. Go now."

She had heard Luther coming toward them. She leaped out the window safely and James hid.

Now here he was, a man whose boss was a traitor and a patriot, and he'd done all his dirty work for him.

He tried to sit up, surprisingly he could. He felt pain, but nothing like what he'd expected.

"Don't try to sit up." A voice said. Kelly's voice.

James looked around and saw a large speaker mounted to the wall above the door.

"Shut up Drake. I've had enough of your voice for one day. Heck, make that forever."

"Fine James, you're going to be in here a while and I thought you might like someone to talk to."

"You thought wrong. How long have I been out?"

"A day. Now stop moping around. But, if you want to be utterly alone, I won't object."

"Good."

"Still, I think you'll be happier if we talk."

"Okay Drake, where should we start?" James asked sarcastically. "Should we start with our first meeting, or the fact that you're a traitor to the nation as a whole?"

"Our first meeting of course."

"You sure you don't want to choose the other one? I have some extremely explicit commentary on those events."

"Go ahead James. Complain away like the little wimp you are. I'm tired of your whining. I thought you were nice but you have just so many issues. Being bland is a big part of those issues." She said with a hint of disgust.

"Are you considering yourself a prime specimen?"

"I consider myself a prime speciwoman."

"Let's talk about what I dislike about you. Well for one, you are an assassin that was hired to kill me, but didn't follow through. So for one, you're disloyal. And you don't get the job done. I'm not sure whether I should be happy for me or sad for you."

"James, talk all you want, I won't have to listen. I just need to turn off the part where I can hear you..." A click sounded on the other end. "...and here we go!"

James sighed. He was tired of living like this, under threat of death all of the time.

He slowly got out of bed. He needed to stretch his legs.

I hardly feel any pain at all. He thought, struggling to understand why he was recovering so fast.

Only a day?

He walked over to the mirror on the wall. Each step he tested, he felt more or less in perfect health.

This is impossible. He thought.

He stared at his reflection; it was like looking at a stranger. Last time he had checked, he wasn't this well built. His piercing light ice blue eyes stared back at him through the glass. In other ways he was -at a glance- average. His posture, a good portion of his mannerisms, and his dark brown hair that until these recent events had been nearly immaculately smoothed down. All of these would portray him as a completely normal person, only a few people cared to look deeper.

People like Drake. He startled himself with the thought. He startled himself with the notion that on some level, he did still care about her.

It's just your hormones getting the best of you. Just try not to think about her. He thought.

In another room, on another floor sat a rejected woman, her name Kelly Drake.

"Luther, I feel like I'm in some sort of science fiction novel."

"Do we get to tear his throat out yet, Miss Drake?" Luther asked.

"No, he's going to become one of us. We've brought him home, now we're going to treat him as a member of the family."

"Then why'd you have me attempt to kill him?" Luther asked.

"To weaken him. We needed to get him to a point where he couldn't fight back."

"So you were predicting this outcome?"

"I was hoping he would live. Honestly, I could have lived with that heart – wrenching moment I had with him a few hours ago where the machete was sticking out of his chest and I told him I loved him. He could've died right there for effect."

"You treat everything like a stage play, and not the reality for which it is! We have jobs to do, realities, blood on our hands, nothing's going to be 'happily ever after' for us! We made him, now we're complaining about the job actually turning out even better than we planned? What we need to do is kill him here and now while we have the chance. The project worked on me, but the fact this man is still breathing is a miracle and a curse in their own rights."

"Stop treating me like a child, I know the difference between fantasy and reality! I love him, but I have to kill him!"

"Still treating this like some story, huh? Want to develop your character a little more? Listen, it's not like we never shared anything special together. Remember the first time we met? The first time we kissed? Does that not count now?"

"It counts for nothing when you're not the man I love."

At this Luther shut up, tired of arguing when he was getting nowhere.

"I should reprimand you; dock your pay or something. But I don't care that much."

This was her attempt to further belittle Luther. He however had worked for Kelly for quite a few years. He was used to it.

Luther sighed and walked out of the dark room as Kelly went back to watching the man she loved try to figure out what happened to him. What happened to his life.