"Hey Number Two! Look at this!!!"

"What is it this time?"

"There's a snake!"

A young girl with blonde hair and pale blue skin held up her arm, a cheerful smile covering her expression as a python hung from her, clenching its fangs on the arm of the young girl as it furiously struggled to attack her.

"You're not supposed to touch the fangs, as far as I am aware. Although it would appear to be too late."

"Eh? I'm not? Why is that, Number Two?"

Replying to the girl as he gazed over with a gentle smile, a man in an expensive suit held out his hand towards the snake before grabbing the struggling creature with such strength to the point where it ceased its movement.

"Let go of her."

And with this command, the creature - instilled with a terror that reached even animals - obeyed.

It opened its fangs, at which the man lifted it up, gazing into its eyes.

And the moment his eyes met the creature, it seemed to shrink back in horror.

For the monster which was contained within that man seeped out through his eyes, which acted as windows to his corrupted soul.

"Do you understand what you are doing when you inject another with your poison?"

At that instant, the man stuck his hand into the mouth of the snake, prying it open.

"If you do not... then I will teach you."

And as he said this, the man wrapped the snake around its own tail, forcing the body of the snake into its own mouth as he pressed down - forcing the snake to bite into itself.

"And if you do... then I will punish you."

The creature struggled and squirmed as the man dropped it to the ground, in evident pain as the man looked down upon it with a condescending glare - merely watching without joy nor sorrow as the creature destroyed itself.

"For knowledge... is power. And to use one's power while knowing the harm it will create... is something that is reserved for us monsters."

Turning to the girl, the man's expression became gentle once more.

"Come now, Amy. You must learn from this thing as well. For you too may one day hold fangs that can poison another... and when that day comes... you will need to decide who you will use them on."

"I don't really get it... but am I going to grow sharp teeth?"

Placing his hand on the shoulder of the girl, the man grinned with pride as he chuckled aloud.

"Haha... my daughter... such a thing will not happen."

Stepping forward, the man continued on, whispering under his breath as he uttered his next words.

"Your fangs will be ones that are not physical."

----

'I wonder how she is doing?'

Marcus stared blankly into the sky, walking along the infested streets without much concern for the numerous bodies around him.

"You're staring off into space again. Are you thinking about something pointless?"

"Perhaps."

The black haired woman who walked at his side spoke with a harsh tone, yet Marcus knew well that it was filled with good intentions.

"Then stop thinking about it until it isn't pointless anymore."

"That's exactly right."

With a firmness in his resolve, the man replied to the woman, glaring forward as his expression straightened.

"First... I must put myself in a situation where such thoughts are no longer pointless... but will lead to a solution."

Turning to look at the others around him, the man grinned as he was filled with a strange sense of camaraderie - something which he had never experienced in his work life.

The black haired woman to his side was once a businesswoman - one who had struggled in the same boat as he had, and perhaps the only person who he had ever respected in his time as a manager.

In front of him, walking without so much as a single shred of emotion in her eyes, was a girl whose navy blue hair stuck out as her defining feature - yet this hair was perhaps only second to her eyes that were completely free of any sense of humanity.

This girl was none other than a mafia dog, a slave who had been trained to kill, to lie, to deceive, to steal - and to do every other form of dirty work without complaint or concern.

'And now... she has become our dog... and even now she has no sense of right or wrong.'

Thinning his eyes with a saddened expression, the man's heart seemed to tighten as he wondered to himself.

'Perhaps... I should teach her.'

The man had this thought, but even so there was another fear that spurred within him, causing him to freeze in the decision.

'But what would become of her if she were to learn of the horrible things she has done?'

The girl was corrupted.

Completely ruined from a moral standpoint.

She had done things which even a murderer would view as horrid, assisting men who had controlled the underworld in unspeakable things.

'The amount of people she has likely destroyed... is far beyond my own comprehension.'

And it was for this reason that Marcus grit his teeth as he clenched a fist in anger.

'And that is why we will destroy them.'

A vein burst in his forehead as the dead man felt an emotion the likes of which he had never before encountered.

'Because they were able to take someone innocent... and turn them into this.'

Letting go of his fist, the man stopped himself before he could dig into his own rotting flesh, which was very easily punctured from even the slightest amount of pressure.

'And yet the most unforgivable thing is that despite her corrupted nature... she has completely retained her innocence.'

Regaining his composure, the man suppressed the emotions that welled within him, preventing him from making any rash decisions in the heat of the moment.

'For even she herself knows nothing of the nature of her actions.'

Looking at the girl, the man closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what might have become of this child - had she been allowed to remain with her parents.

But that was neither here nor there.

'I suppose for one thing... she would not be subject to myself and Sylvia.'

Looking forward, the man's gaze fell upon the two men in front of the girl.

The one on the left held his hands behind his back in a casual manner, a grin plastering his expression as he walked through these streets without batting an eye - for this man was none other than Bradley Vendetta - a serial killer.

A man who had been betrayed by a woman as part of a ploy from his own business rival, and fallen into despair after realizing he had been deceived - only to be saved by something which was not human in any sense of the word.

Experiment Number Three.

This 'woman' had come into his life by force, taking over his body and offering him consolation in his weakness - and accepting her advances, the man merged with the very concept of Revenge.

And thus, Vendetta Consultants was born.

He turned revenge into a business - however it was a self-serving one at that, for anyone who had the balls to become one of his clients was liable to his judgment as well.

Perhaps this was in the spirit of discouraging anyone without noble intentions from using his services - and thus promoting his own wretched sense of justice.

After all - Revenge was a fickle beast that often hurt those who sought it more than the ones whom it was acted out upon.

This particular man had bright red hair, and wore the orange outfit of a prisoner - for he had given himself up to the authorities after a time to take a break from his killings.

And standing next to him was a police officer - a man whose head was shaved clean, his short brown hair buzzed in military style.

This man carried a baton and a taser at his side, as well as a standard pistol, yet he strutted not with the confidence of a policeman, but rather with the bitter expression of someone who had seen all too much.

"The Street Rats were a gang that the police couldn't lay a finger on."

Speaking up, this man uttered these words with disappointment, speaking with hatred in his tone as he forced out the words.

"It wasn't because they were a threat to the police... though I will say that if we did end up fighting one another that it would have resulted in an all out war - and who knows what might have happened."

Gripping the baton, the man continued.

"We didn't lay a hand on them for the simple reason that they greased the palms of the chief in every City that they operated in."

"That would mean then, that they made enough capital to prevent the police from making such movements.", Sylvia commented.

"Exactly.", the officer replied. "I was never privy to the exact information... but I'll tell you one thing. There was one time a couple years ago when I asked the chief as to why we would waste our time defending such criminals. And do you know what he said to me?"

His expression changing, the officer took a gruff tone as he impersonated his former superior.

"The members of the Stirling Family are outstanding citizens... and there will be no investigations on their activities under my watch."

"That much, eh?", Sylvia chuckled. "They must have been making a ton... and paying a ton. But that all ends here, doesn't it?"

Thinning her eyes, the woman looked forward with a gleam of destruction as her smile became all the more wretched.

"After all... without any laws to hold us back... there's a new gang in town."

Looking to her hand, the woman gazed upon her rotten flesh as her expression became all the more rotten with greed.

"The Infected... that is who we are."

Cracking her head as her bones which were likely already smashed to pieces within her rattled out audibly, the woman spoke in a devious tone.

"We've been infected by this world... and we will continue to spread this infection... until there is not a single person left untouched by it."

The woman spoke these words, causing all four of the people to stop in her tracks as something seemed to take over her mind - and Marcus became unsure as to whether the one speaking was Sylvia or the experiment inside of her.

"But unlike the infection that this world forced upon us... we will change."

Placing her hand to her face, the woman began to chuckle, quietly laughing to herself as she spoke.

"We will mutate."

Thinning her eyes, which peeked out through the gaps in her scarred fingers, the woman's tone lowered even further as she continued.

"And we will become an infection... far different than the one that we were plagued with."

And as she spoke, Marcus felt something stir within him - something far grander than the petty goals that he had been focusing on.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Only then... will we spread ourselves around this very rotten world."

----

[The merging process is going exceptionally well for that one.]

'What do you mean by that, Seven?'

[I mean exactly what I said, Marcus. As her sympathy with Number One grows, so too does their compatibility.]

'But what does that mean for Sylvia?'

[It's simple. The more compatible the two become - the more indistinguishable they will become from one another. Whether this is because One changes to become like Sylvia, or Sylvia like One - eventually they will settle at an equilibrium in which their minds are united with a single will.]

'So Sylvia and One will cease to be two different people? Is that what you're saying? They're going to combine themselves and end up as some sort of hybrid?'

[Of course not. Even when they merge, they will still be two separate people with two individual personalities - only that their mindset, their goals, and everything else will be shared among the two. They will be more united than any two humans on this planet in will. This is what happened between Three and Bradley, you know. And at some point... it will happen between the two of us.]

'So you're saying that there will come a day where I will agree with you on everything?'

[Indeed. Ah, but that is obvious - is it not? For if two minds continue to live within the same body for such a long period of time, then one of two things will occur.]

As Seven lowered his tone, a chill was sent down the spine of Marcus.

[Either they will become more united than otherwise possible... or they will slaughter one another for complete control.]

With these words, the creature chuckled, mocking the man from inside his mind.

[I do hope for your sake that it will be the former, Marcus.]

And with this lingering threat, the man was reminded - that he would never be in control of himself.

[Because I think we are both well aware that I am the one who would win if it were to come down to such a thing.]

----

'I never trusted them... mafia pigs... they are one and the same as all the capitalists in this nation.'

A man with a bright orange beard which came to a point gripped his rifle as he forced his way through what was once a mechanical door.

Of course, all the electricity within this building had been shut off - so he slammed the door open as he violently broke through, to be met with numerous undead - their yellow eyes gazing upon him at the sudden sound.

'But even if I could not trust them... I suppose the same could be said about anyone in a position of power.'

Firing off one shot after another, the man attacked with a silenced weapon, allowing him to prevent the entire city from being alerted to his position.

'Which is why it was so much fun... when I was the one in charge. Yet those damn Capitalists... they just had to show up and ruin everything, didn't they?'

One after another, shots were fired at the undead as rage filled the man, whose eyes became bloodshot as the crimson liquid sprayed from his foes onto him.

'Even if they welcomed me as a client to this hotel... they welcomed all of those vermin as well, didn't they?'

Taking a moment to reload as he finished off the last ones in range, the man took a breath as he glared up at the canopy.

There were a number of tables and seats in a small courtyard outside the entrance, and the man grabbed one of these seats as he used it in order to climb upon the canopy - perching himself as he sat down, rifle in hand.

And like a bird, he gazed upon the corridor of a courtyard before him, walls on his left and right such that any attackers would have to rush at him head on.

'Ah... there's one more, isn't there?'

Gazing hundreds of meters in front of him, the man's eye caught a particular zombie - a mere boy who was fishing around in the trash can.

Thck!

With a single silenced shot, the head of this boy exploded, drenching the already rotting contents of the trash can with his corrupted flesh and blood as he fell inside of it.

'Get back where you belong, Stronvardian boy.'

Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a set of preserved rations, unwrapping them as he took a bite of the dried meat.

He chewed and gnawed, the stiffened jerky barely even edible from the amount of time it had been put away in such a container.

And as he did so, everything became quiet.

Not a single person nor creature moved, and the only sounds which could be heard were the chewing sounds of the man who watched and waited - all according to the orders given to him by Yakov.

This orange haired man was Officer Ector Stralgen of the Soviet States of Joraten - also known as the SADIST.

'If the motherland still stands... then I will return there one day. But first... I will have to take care of as many as possible.'

Laying his bag behind him, the man rested his head as he set up his rifle in a position where he wouldn't have to hold it with his own strength, allowing him to rest himself while still remaining prepared to fire.

'This hotel is nothing more than a breeding pot for inhumane monsters... and the fact that this is the only place that allowed me to do as I pleased... disgusts me.'

The overbearing image of the gray haired gentleman flashed in his mind, causing Ector to flinch as he recalled the absolute dominance which he had achieved over even the most heinous of criminals.

'But that man... is not someone that I can defeat. Therefore I will have to start my revolution... elsewhere.'

----

'It's wrong.'

A woman stood at the Eastern entrance, a pile of limbs surrounding her.

'It's all wrong.'

Her expression was calm, yet as she walked through this pile of limbs, the woman gazed down upon the dismembered undead with disdain.

'I suppose they have to be alive, don't they?'

With a sigh, the woman took a seat at an outdoor picnic table, not taking mind of the zombie that sat across from her with a knife through his skull.

'After all, it's easy to see what's inside when they're dead... but to witness the contractions of muscles... the expansion and retraction of lungs as they breathe... the beating of a human heart... the spray of blood when an artery is sliced open... and the change in the expression of the individual...'

Glancing up, the woman faced the dead body in front of her, a slightly saddened expression overcoming her as she slumped down in her seat.

'That's what makes it so fun to look inside.'

This woman was Dutchess Kristina Engel.

"But why do they move if their organs don't work? It's strange, isn't it? Don't you think so?"

The woman spoke these words, aimed at the dead body before her - to which she received no answer.

"Movement is associated with life... so how does something move if it is dead?"

Posing this question, the woman looked up, glaring into the eyes of the zombie which had been gouged out.

"Ah... I know!"

Standing up with an excited expression, the woman quickly approached the creature, a light in her eyes as she slowly moved her hand to the knife through its forehead.

"The human is dead... but there is something else that is in control of the body!"

Ripping the knife upwards, the woman tore it straight through the brain of the creature, causing a geyser of blood and flesh to erupt as the woman spread her arms in excitement, bathing in the blood with a smile.

"And that something... it must be a parasite."

Glancing down towards the zombie whose head had been split open, the woman's eyes thinned with delight as she leaned over the creature, gazing into its head with a newfound interest.

"Now, now, Mr. Parasite... I'm not going to hurt you! Come on and show yourself, won't you?"

The woman's tone became more and more filled with madness as she began to dig into the head of the undead man with her knife, mutilating it all the more as its flesh became more liquid by the minute.

"Surely you're in here... there's no need to hide! After all... I am a Noble, after all."

And with a horrid grin that wrapped itself around the face of the woman, her eyes became more and more filled with excitement as she spoke.

"I would never do anything harmful to those below me if it weren't for good reason."

This woman was Dutchess Kristina Engel.

The MUTILATOR.

----

'Four exits... five people.'

'The Pedophile holds great hatred towards anyone who may look at her with ill intentions... whether those intentions be of lust, or of greed.'

'Only towards those who are innocent of such emotions would she possibly be able to cooperate with... and among those, only one person could possibly fit the description.'

'The one who has no sexual interest in human women whatsoever.'

'The Zoophile.'

'These two are the only ones who would be compatible enough to work with one another.'

'The Sadistic Communist and the Necrophilic Capitalist would likely slaughter one another if placed together.'

'Of course, neither could be placed with the Pedophile, for she would almost certainly flip on them if they were to so much as glance at her wrongly.'

'The same goes for the Zoophile... who is insecure in every manner... and it is this very insecurity which has driven him to dominate the few beings that will not rebel against him.'

'He cannot be placed with someone significantly more powerful than him, or his inferiority complex will drive him insane.'

'The mutilator... she cannot be placed with another human being.'

'Therefore, this is the only acceptable combination.'

'However with this combination... all of our exits have been secured.'

'They will not betray us for now... nor will they try to run. For they understand well that I will hunt them down if they do.'

'Yet despite this, they are all deranged just enough to the point where I highly doubt that even a skilled combatist would be able to penetrate whatever defense they have prepared.'

'Therefore... our gates have been defended.'

'Our guard dogs have been placed.'

'And now... I shall return to the Leader so that I may assist him with any internal struggles.'

These were the thoughts of Yakov - the older gentleman known as "The Janitor".

And as he headed back to report the good news to his superior, his mustache couldn't help but to crinkle upwards as it hid the smile underneath it.

'Everything is going according to plan... and if there are no unexpected interruptions, then we will be able to rebuild this hotel much quicker than anticipated.'

----