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Tyson looked at Elliott not sure what to say. Elliott was also physically mutated, but had control of himself. It always seemed to be the case that everyone else had control of themselves regardless of how animal-like their abilities were. Why was it that he was the one who kept regressing to the mindset of an animal? It wasn't fair. None of it was, but that was how the dice rolled. He couldn't change it, and it seemed he couldn't fight it either. He hated it, he hated himself for everything he did when he lost control. He was still letting off little whining noises like a dog that had been kicked, but he tried to pull himself together, if nothing else then to be able to talk, which with his speech impediment would be impossible if he was still whining.

"Hrrrrrrr no, nevvvvvererrrrr oookaaaaay," he said, trying to keep his whines from further distorting his words. "Hrrrr, caaan't beeeee norrrrrmaal, keeeeeep huuuurrrrtinnnng peeeeooooppllle." It was a bit of an understatement, he had likely killed people, not just hurt. Mauled would be a more appropriate term. He didn't say as much, he didn't know how Elliott would take it, and he seemed, at the very least, willing to tolerate him. He knew a few mansion dwellers who more or less accepted him, but Elliot was the first outside of that who didn't have any obligation out of shared space, this his acceptance was completely of his own volition. Tyson at least appreciated that.

He wiped her s claws on his jacket to remove the blood, and wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. The wounds were already starting to close up. His healing factor in action. He wondered momentarily how bad a would he could survive, what it would take to silly end his existence, but the thought passed as he was afraid of the answer.

Tyson fell into a wider gait, speeding up a bit as he tried to silence the beast in him. It was advice he had been given, give in to his instincts, let the wolf out. Unfortunately he didn't trust the wolf in him enough to not hold on tight on the leash he tried to keep on it. To many times it had betrayed him and proved that he wasn't human anymore, too many times he had realized too late that he was covered in blood. He wanted to run away from himself, he wanted to wake up in a normal body, he wanted not to be enticed by the smell of raw meat and blood. It wasn't going to happen though, he was trapped with no place to go, so all he could do was run blindly and hope that he exhausted himself enough to where he would pass out into a dreamless sleep and forget he existed for a moment.

He turned around the west side of the building, moving quickly. He was quite fast when he went all out, and he was trying his hardest to make everything a blur, to make it so he didn't have time to smell or see anything as the wind and scenery blurred by. The unfortunate thing about doing that was it meant he wasn't exactly watching where he was going as he tried to push the world away, and running around the edge of the garden, he didn't see the guy laying in the grass until he was just about on top of him. His eyes went wide as he suddenly became aware of the obstacle in his path. It was too late to stop, if he tried he would only end up tripping over and rolling over the guy, but he was already reacting that way, and could already feel the inertia pulling the weight of his top heavy body forward.

Then his instincts kicked in, and his hind legs kicked the ground hard, forcing his body upwards, and instead of tripping, he was suddenly flipping over, tumbling over in the air above the guy before landing off balance on the other side of him and rolling over. He let his weight carry him back over to his feet and his claws dug into the ground, stopping his momentum as he left gouges in the ground. He was panting a bit, partially from the sudden scare, the other from stress and exertion, leaving him looking like some mad animal his teeth bared as he breathed hard, looking at the guy he almost trampled.

Tyson mulled over his predicament to little success. The more he thought about it, the more he went around in circles feeling guilty and full of shame over his actions, and any possible way out of it was blocked by the unpredictable nature of his own body. He may as well be trying to keep the tide from coming in. All it really accomplished was making him feel less and less like a person and more like an animal.

Then the woman walked up to him and broke his line of thought. At first he thought it must be a mistake, that there was someone else she was addressing that he had somehow missed. But she was looking right at him, so she had to be talking to him. He wondered about her sense of self preservation. Who walked up to a monster without so much as skipping a beat. Then again, it seemed common in the mansion to not judge by appearances, at least until you had thrown one of the staff through a wall.

"Hrrrr who, me?" He asked in confusion, his voice rumbling with a growling undertone. At least he was no longer slurring so badly. "Hrrr what do you want?" He was a little annoyed at being disturbed in his brooding, but given that the woman had braved the risk, he figured he was obligated to give her some time. He just hoped there wasn't something that would set him m off. He didn't want to bite off her face by accident.

Tyson sat beneath a tree, hood pulled down over his face. As was apparently the norm for him, he was in a sour mood. There was not much going right in his life. True, he had made some progress with his speaking, which made communicating a bit easier, but with him attacking people and constant nightmares it seemed less of a victory and more like putting off the inevitability of his defeat. The safest place for him was the mansion, but it was driving him crazy with a lack of things he could do and it the scents of the students and noise. The only thing he could really look forward too was a change of scenery, and even that had it's risks.

He was doing his best to avoid any repeats of his previous excursions, he stayed away from any places he thought people may attack him for being a mutant, and now he was trying not to look at anyone. His flight or fight instincts usually kicked in when he was in trouble, and that had possibly killed a few people, a fact that tore him up inside. Then there was apparently hunting instincts that lead him to want to chase things down. Luckily he hadn't hurt anyone because of them... Yet, but he had come dangerously close. So he was avoiding what triggers he knew about, namely watching things running. Something in him associated it with prey, just like canine scents triggered territorial instincts. It was a lot to keep a lid on, and as he learned more, the more paranoid he got over what other surprises his body may pull on him.

It was dark, except for the artificial lights of the lamp posts that lit the street. The only sound that broke the silence a low wind, and the echoing footsteps of a woman's shoes as she walked briskly down the street. She was tense, looking over her shoulder, as if something was watching her. Maybe it was the silence, the abandoned feeling of the empty street, the darkness beyond the lights that made the only safe place feel like under the illumination of the lights.

She looked over her shoulder again, sure she had heard something behind her as she picked up her pace, and suddenly stumbled as she stepped on something in the darkness, tripping and falling to the ground into the circle of lamplight. she pushed herself up and looked to see what had tripped her up, then stifled a scream. A dark puddle was spread about a lump in the darkness, but it's shape was recognizable in the low light. A hand, severed at the forearm, blood still glistening and wet. She quickly scrambled to her feet and ran from the scene. She didn't look back, afraid of the possibility that whatever it was may be somewhere behind her, or in front of her.

She turned a corner and stopped again, the darkness stretched out before her where no lamps were there to light the awful, dangerous unknown. She quickly searched though her purse, fishing out her cell phone, the small window of light lighting her face as she swiped the menu and clicked on the flashlight application. The light flashed on and she raised it to the darkness.

The blood drained from her face, the scene of horror before here unimaginable. Bodies lined the street, a massacre. Men, women, children, no one had been spared, and all showed similar wounds, claws and teeth marks, almost every body disemboweled. She could only stare in shock, panning her phone around the darkness, only revealing more and more carnage.

Then she heard the growl. Before she could stop herself, she turned to face it's source. The light fell of a mess of brown fur, a creature stooped over a body, tearing out chunks of it's chest before pulling a large lump, the heart, out and crushing it in it's jaws. The light caught it's attention, and it turned, teeth glistening and dripping with blood. It snarled and began toward her. The woman didn't need anymore incentive to turn and run, out of the light and into the blood filled darkness. The beast form flashed briefly through the lamp light in pursuit.

The woman had to adjust her footing to avoid the bodies in the street, he phones light bouncing as he desperately tried to escape. She never stood a chance. Claws fell on her, followed by the full weight of the monster. The phone went flying, the screen shattering as it hit the road, as screams filled the air. The creature tore it's claws across her back before clamping it's jaws around the woman neck, and the screams suddenly died with the sound of a sickening crunch of bone. The creature didn't hesitate, as it gorged itself on fresh meat...

Tyson sat up, his growling, yelping, snarl the closest thing he could make to a scream. Stuffing from the bed lay scattered around the room, the ragged blanket torn almost to shreds. This was nothing new to Tyson though. His room had become progressively worse for ware since his arrival in it, especially after he learned there was no cure for his condition. He had refused to let the mansion replace the ruined furniture, knowing that anything new would be just as easily destroyed. They changed out the sheets every now and then while he was out, but they generally didn't last long. Especially on nights like this, which became more and more frequent.

Tyson had been having nightmares ever since his transformation. At first they had involved a lab, needles and being strapped to a table, but they had progressively shifted towards ones like this, becoming steadily worse with time. Dreams where he had torn people apart, dreams where he hunted people down and feasted on their innards. If they had been simply figments of his imagination he may have been able to deal with it better, but the fact was they were not all that far from the truth. He ate raw meat willingly now, having lost that fight with the loss of hope for a cure. And he had mauled people. It had been after he was cornered and flight or fight instincts had taken hold. However, he couldn't deny that he had seriously injured people and lost control of himself, and even the wolf part of him had liked the taste of blood. He didn't even know if they had survived the ordeal, and that guilt weighed on him more and more. He seemed to be losing himself more and more. He was scared, terrified at what he was becoming.

He cured up in a corner of his bed, whining softly to himself as he tried processing the events in the latest dream, as he had done every night before. He hadn't had a good night sleep since he arrived here, and as time went on his exhaustion was mounting, making it harder to concentrate. Piles of bodies, blood and gore, and the monster in the dark... himself, a wild killing machine without reason or mercy. Tonights was especially bad. It had not been just random strangers this time. The woman in his dreams he knew. And what he had done was the worst thing he had done in his dreams to date. It had not been a random woman. It had been his mom.

If he could have cried he would have, but his body couldn't, it could only whine and howl and growl. He could only curl up as tight as he could and tell himself it was a dream, and hope fervently that it was not a precursor to what he would become. But the way things were progressing, he was beginning to believe that less and less. He wanted to cry for help, but he knew nobody could. He was alone, he was a monster, and he was losing what little humanity he had piece by piece. How much longer until he lost himself completely and became a wild animal? How much longer could he fight it? How much longer till he lost?

Today was turning out to be a very strange day, green steampunk mutants, a mutant apparently posing as a pet dog, and now a giant duck man. So far Tyson had managed to keep himself in line against the unfamiliar, territorial instinct, and being around a crowd. However this one came unexpected. He had been bracing himself for a possible conflict, a belligerent person who was about to confront them. but when the duck man made a break for it, he was hit with something completely different. He watched for a moment, caught in the moment of contemplating the fact that there was a giant duck running past him. Before he knew what was happening, he had jumped off his seat, landed on all fours and leapt at what was apparently a giant walking meal. Running prey, the wolf in him reacted to it's basic hunting instincts and took over, teeth bared and ready to bite.

The man looked over his shoulder as this happened, a look of realization across his face as Tyson took the leap. He let go of the duck, who himself had a sudden look of terror on his face, and grabbed the closest thing, a bar stool, and brought it around like a bat, slamming it into tyson and knocking him out of the air mid flight. The duckman took the opportunity and fled out the door, not looking back. Tyson was knocked into another table, his weight knocking it over and sending him sprawling on the floor. The wolf hadn't been expecting something to come between it and his meal, and the sudden shock was enough to bring Tyson back to his senses.

He shook his head as higher brain functions kicked in again, and realized he had just went feral again. He grumbled a curse directed at himself, furious at himself for loosing it again. Chalk up another failed attempt to integrate back into society. Seriously, what was wrong with him where he now was hunting people? Yeah, it had been a a giant duck, but why couldn't his instincts give him a break and not turn him into a wild animal at any given moment?

Tyson reflected on his own admission of hopelessness, things really were bad for him, he couldn't go home, he couldn't reclaim the life he had, he couldn't look forward to a bright future. Adder was right, he was alive, that was the one thing he had left. But really he had to question wither it was a life worth living. Is that all he could really look forward to right now? Just exist. Just survive. It was a very primal solution to his problem. He supposed that may be the only option open to him now. Even staying at the institute he had few ties, and not much to look forward to, even if he got an education he couldn't go anywhere with it. So maybe Adder was the smart one, maybe just giving in was the solution.

"hrrrrr juuuuust liiiiive?" he said, more to himself, he looked up at the night sky. The lights of the city blotted out any actual starlight, but here and there you could see small glimmers where the brightest ones shone through. Just live. He breathed deep, the scent of the woods and the greenhouse filling his lungs as he thought on it. Just live... he wasn't sure how that would play out, or how long it would last, but for a moment, just a moment, he let go and just listened to the calm breeze running through the leaves of the trees, the night creatures that moved through the woods, and the distant sounds of night traffic from the city. For a moment, he let go, and let everything just be the way it was.