[center][img]http://s15.postimg.org/fl608fgln/Cole_Erickson.png[/img]
[img]http://s11.postimg.org/otvq5te43/Fear.png[/img]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoFaHFm4lqY]Just Lose It[/url][/center]

Cole - or as he was now primarily known, Fear - sat in his cell, propped up against the wall with a bent knee and his arm slung lazily on top. He listened to the jibber jabber outside, rolling his eyes as he was introduced to yet [i]another[/i] person. Well, he'd say introduced, but it really meant lectured on. He couldn't see the ugly bastards outside as they stared in, examining him like a lab rat. None of the subjects could. Instead they had mirrored glass, which he thought was an unnecessary precaution. He simply stared at his reflection as the old man babbled on.

[color=696969]"Our first subject, Mr. Cole Erickson, AKA Fear."[/color] Marcus said as he tapped on the glass.

Fear smirked. He wasn't "also known as" fear, he [i]was[/i] fear. He listened with deep intent as the doctor continued.

[color=696969]"Mr. Erickson is clinically insane, and has no memory of who he was before he took up the Fear persona. But, he is still highly intelligent at the same time. He is prone to violent outbursts as well. Approach with caution, but I suspect you can handle him."[/color]

Cole got up, and walked over to the glass, slamming his hands down on it.

[color=A52A2A]"They say in space, nobody can hear you scream. It's funny how people lie, isn't it?"[/color] His voice came out as a hiss, the natural when he was having one of his "bursts". It always happened when he was being introduced to someone else. This wasn't even the worst of it. Naturally, it was ignored, and he moved onto the next prisoner. Of course, Marcus didn't call them prisoners. He just called them patients.

They finally reached the last patient, Dante Cortez. Cole hadn't really payed much attention to Dante. He was the usual Super Soldier, with the decreased aging and pure muscle power. Fear didn't appreciate that way of doing things. He liked manipulation; the ability to twist your opponent forever rather than temporarily harm them. Mental wounds are much more effective than physical ones. He'd learned that from experience.

The door to his cell opened and he strolled out, his slick, black shoes clanking against the ground as he whistled a tune to himself. Surprisingly enough, he was allowed his usual smart attire in his cell, at the cost of having a typewriter to amuse himself. He didn't mind. He'd write out twisted manuscripts and leave them all over the training yard for people to read. The other thing he was allowed in his cell was a secure harness that hung from the wall. He would take off his trenchcoat and hang upside down inside it, like a bat. He'd started doing so on the bars in the training yard, too. His brain functioned better when all the blood rushed to it. The same red dots that landed on Dante landed on him, too, as he walked over to his new supervisor - Elizabeth Dalton.

[color=A52A2A]"Hello, Miss Dalton."[/color] He said with a twisted smile.