[img=http://i.imgur.com/ussbXCw.jpg]

The Sinners made their way back to the base, voices hushed by thoughts of dread at what would have happened had the explosion been worse. As they filed through the door and stood in the living room, Harry still felt the strange sense of disorientation that had been building up since the explosion. The things he felt seemed alien and new, and the more he tried to work his head around it the heavier the disorientation seemed to get. 

At one point or another Harry was aware that the hand on his shoulder was Emmy. As they all stood in the living room to hear Sloth's debriefing, Gluttony's sense of hunger grew more powerful. He felt an intense need to [i]know[/i]; in his mind it felt like the Sinners around him were merely beehives of activity that only he could sense. He glanced at Emmy, his hand tentatively drifting towards her right shoulder. 

[i]One touch, that's all I need.[/i]

It was after a few moments of looking at the movement of his hand that he took a sharp intake of breath and drew back, as if the attempt was something toxic to him. What was he thinking? Since when did he touch anyone, least of all Emmy, in such a casual, purposeless way? He stared at the barely visible veins beneath his hand, branching from his fingers and across his wrist.

Harry's focused gaze broke when Sam stumbled back into the living room. The fighter was breathing heavily, a look of complete craze in his eyes. For a brief moment, Harry wasn't sure whether he was excited, or something was terribly wrong. "Guys, you need to fucking see this!" Gluttony watched as Pride raised a knife to the air, driving it down hard into his hand. Gluttony could almost feel his right leg breaking from the effort of suppressing his instinct to dash forward and restrain Sam. He barely stopped himself on the last minute revelation that Sam would probably destroy him in seconds if it came down to a fist fight.

Harry took a hesitant step forward. The moment his foot touched the ground he felt the sensation vibrate through his brain. It hit him in waves which gradually increased in strength; torrents upon torrents of unrelenting force that penetrated the very foundations of his senses. A bead of sweat sliced its way down his left temple; he could almost feel his pupils constricting like a vice was being pulled within his eyes. He grimaced, trying to keep a straight face as this battle raged inside him. Harry was clearly suffering somehow, the remainder of Sam's words being registered in his brain as unintelligible droning sounds. 

For a single moment Harry was intensely aware of where he was, like a calm in the storm of senses and thoughts which had gone violently wrong. Emmy had left him for some reason, which was probably a good thing considering what he was going through right now. But what he picked up on particularly was the memory of the black liquid pooling around the wound on Sam's hand.

[i]Memory.[/i]

Just like that, Harry lost his sense of awareness. He felt a blunt pound as his back slammed into the wall for support. His fingers clutched at his shoulders as if a cold wind was blowing around him. One moment he was there, in the living room of the Sinners, and the next moment he was outside, smoking a cigarette with an intense frustration welling up inside him. He could feel the nicotine in his veins struggling to deal with the surge of anger and disappointment, concepts of being the strongest fighting with concepts of cowardice. Harry felt the bones in his knuckles breaking as he slammed his fist into a wall, only to see the same black liquid coat the injuries to leave behind flawless skin and bone.

Harry crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. A strange smile cracked across his lips as his pupils stretched to their normal size. What the hell was he feeling? It like how he had imagined being high on ecstasy, but far better. This was perfection. He didn't know what had happened there, but what was sure was that for that brief moment, Harry had accessed his insatiable desire; the knowledge behind another human being. He looked at his pale, trembling hands; they were his now, but in that moment, they were Sam's as well. He squinted as he looked at the fighter, his attention clearly focused on something else rather than Harry. The hunger drifted away slightly, still gnawing inside him but finally releasing its hold on Harry's senses. He rubbed his hands exhaustively over his face, trying to restore circulation. The ground felt normal... So did the wall behind him. Everything was back to normal. At least, normal enough. 

He blinked several times, trying to clear his blurred vision. Was what happened a hallucination? It certainly felt like it. Harry tried to regain an image of composure as he drew his knees back and rested his arms on them. Weird things were beginning to happen; he needed to be alert and ready for any more hallucinations or freaky occurrences happening around Sam. What was worse was the fact he couldn't get his mind to relax to a state where he could focus. "Dear lord..." he muttered, hiding his face behind his arms. "What the hell is going on..?"