Zeff slowly opened his eyes as two worlds, the dream world and the real world, bled into one another. Mingling for just a moment as one solidified and the other withered into nothing.

He looked around him and sighed with frustration. It was just another nightmare... Nothing new...

He was in his own bedroom tucked neatly into his own bed. Beside him, sitting on his nightstand, a digital clock read '3:17 pm'.

Zeff slid back into his covers and clicked his tongue apathetically as his emotions began to settle and the memory of his nightmare began to fade. Last week, if he would have found himself waking up at 3 o'clock in the afternoon he would have cursed himself for missing work and immediately ran to the doctor's office to fake symptoms for a flu.

But not today... Today he didn't want to even think about Redbob's or Dwaine or men with guns... Or...!

A tidal wave of memories at once assailed him! Zeff remembered everything with striking detail. He remembered quitting his job. He remembered Dr. Sylvan. He remembered the Tender-Man and (especially...) being shot in the neck and bleeding out on the ground. He remembered being trapped in his own mind for nearly 10 hours and the excruciating pain he endured there. But what he didn't remember was putting on underwear and tucking himself into bed that night...

'Wait!' thought Zeff, his heart suddenly racing. There was something else that troubled him. Namely, what had happened to Dr. Sylvan after he had been shot? Was he taken by the Tender-Man?

He sprang from his covers intending to jump quickly from his bed to the floor. But instead, much to his astonishment, he shot up nearly 10 feet into the air, slamming his head through his ceiling, embedding himself there with a loud *thunk*.

He was too shocked to know how to react to having his head stuck in the ceiling. He simply allowed himself to hang there for a long moment, his upper body, from the shoulders to the crown of his head, lodged in a neighbor's bedroom floor as the reality of what just happened tried to sink in.

Luckily, no one was home up there. So he gave himself a full minute to marinate in the impossibility of it all. 'Did i just...' he began, but the thought was too ridiculous to entertain.

With a small push, the smallest effort, he dislodged himself and fell rather softly back onto his cushy bed.

Most people might have been a bit confused at this point. Most might have worried or despaired. But not Zeff. A smile began to cross his lips as he put two and two together.

To test his theory, he slowly crawled out of his bed to the floor. 'Let's do a few push-ups...' he thought, getting into a push-up position. Nearly two minutes later he had stopped bothering to count how many push-ups he had done. He felt no fatigue or strain even by the time he got to 100, which was beyond unusual, to say the least. 'Let's push it to the limit, shall we?' he thought, an even bigger smile on his face.

He threw one hand behind his back and attempted to do a one-handed push-up. He began to laugh uncontrollably as they were quite literally too easy. 'Further!' he thought, as he switched to two-finger, one-handed push-ups.

No strain. No pain. No effort required whatsoever.

With a quick and controlled kick off the floor he brought his legs up over his head and balanced there in that position, still on two fingers.

"Check me out!" Zeff exclaimed with a laugh.

Suddenly Zeff's bedroom door flew open and in rushed Dr. Sylvan. "Quiet, Zeff-boy!" he hollered, squinting up at the hole in the ceiling briefly with an astonished look, then, continuing urgently toward Zeff, he added, his voice low, "You trying to get us killed?" as Zeff fell to the floor with a start.

Zeff quickly picked himself up. "Doc! You're alive!" he yell-whispered.

"Why are you worried that I'm alive, boy?!" Sylvan whisper-yelled back. "When you were bleeding out only hours ago?!"

Zeff was taking aback, his eyebrows raised in shock as if it hadn't really occurred to him that he should be dead right now. "So..." he began, his voice still low. "What happened after i got... y'know... And why the heck are we whisperin— ...?" he trailed off, an intense and confused expression on his face. "Doc... D-Did you get... shorter...?" It was certainly not the right timing for such a question. The Doctor knew it and Zeff knew it. But he couldn't help but ask.

Zeff had always been a bit on the shorter side and he had always been a little self conscious about it. But it was his lot in life to be short... So, what could he do about it? At 5'6" he was just below the average male height. However, now, that selfsame Doctor who Zeff had noticed was rather tall, suddenly seemed inexplicably shorter.

Sylvan simply patted Zeff's shoulders gently, and with a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy on his face, he remarked, "Boy... You've gone through more changes than you realize."

By the look on Dr. Sylvan's face, Zeff didn't know whether he should be excited or afraid. He carefully made his way to the bathroom, Sylvan following close behind, taking special care not to exert to much strength as he went.

As he opened the restroom door he gasped and jumped back, nearly slamming into Dr. Sylvan. It took his brain nearly a second to register that the man staring at him through a hole in his wall was actually Zeff seeing himself in the mirror.

"Tigers and tortellini..." Zeff gasped perplexed.

Somehow he had grown more than half a foot in one night. He couldn't know for sure by looking, but he guessed that he was now somewhere around 6'2", maybe even taller. He was much longer and, most strikingly, leaner than he had ever wished before.

Zeff instinctively flexed his muscles like he had done in jest dozens of times before. But this time, instead of a few unimpressive jelly rolls, he saw a fully formed set of abdominal and pectoral muscles that would put a body builder to shame. His shoulders bulged and his arms were like veiny pythons after a very fat and juice rat. Zeff could practically count the number of muscle fibers in his thighs which were nearly bursting from his boxer shorts and looked strong enough to crush a watermelon between them.

"I'm absolutely shredded..." he said aloud, partially impressed and partially in disbelief.

He drew closer to the mirror and studied his own face for a long second.

Zeff had never considered himself ugly, but he was by no means handsome which was certainly not the case anymore. He still had his sharp nose, semi-full lips, and his thick eyebrows above almond-shaped eyes. But now his face was more chiseled as opposed to round and he had a jaw-line that could likely cut through steel.

His eyes and his hair were the biggest changes of all.

His eyes were now deep and piercing and intense. So much so that they seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. Yesterday they had been light blue, but today they were a strange but beautiful blend of yellow and orange.

His hair had been brown yesterday as well. But today it was as black as black could be and at least 6 or so inches longer so that he had to push it out of his eyes.

Behind him Sylvan was wearing that strange look again. Zeff hadn't quite understood that look before, but now it made sense. Indeed, yesterday's Zeff was no more. He was Subject-04 now, a completely different creature.

"Boy..." Came Dr. Sylvan's voice, gentle but firm, "We have much to discuss and little time. Put some clothes on and meet me in the living room, quick and quiet as you can."

After Zeff had found some clothes that fit his new body (which took a considerable amount of time) he met Dr. Sylvan in his small and shabby living room. The TV, the volume muted, was on 'Boomerang' and an old show called Dexter's Lab was playing. It was the episode where Dexter was learning to snowball fight in order to defeat his sister. It was one of Zeff's favorites.

On the living room table was a large loaf of bread, a mountain of fruit, and a cheap bottle of red wine, which Sylvan had likely gathered from Zeff's own kitchen. As Zeff saw the food he suddenly realized how hungry he was and began to eat ravenously.

Sylvan, who was noticeably a bit anxious, waited patiently for Zeff to eat a good amount before asking apprehensively, "Zeff-boy? Do you remember anything after the moment you put on the ring?"

Zeff stopped eating and explained everything he had experienced in his subspace from beginning to end with Sylvan stopping him only rarely to get clarification. When he was done, Sylvan stood up and began to pace back and forth.

After a long pause, however, Zeff tilted his head curiously. "By the way, Doc. How did you get into my apartment...?"

Sylvan flinched noticeably. "I-I, uhh— I found your key under your welcome rug outside your door..."

Zeff was thoughtful for a second then shrugged as if to say, "Well, cool..."

Sylvan sighed then continued his pacing. After a moment or so he mumbled, "But what in the world is 'Passive-035'... It just doesn't make sense..." He scratched the back of his neck, getting more agitated with each passing second.

"Yeah, I don't know. It seems dRas made a new 'Passive' skill, or something and—"

"No, not that!" Sylvan barked, his voice ever low so that it sounded more like a growl. "Do you really not remember?!"

"...R-remember what?"

"Are you serious? Have you no recollection of what happened to you after you got shot."

Zeff gulped audibly at hearing Sylvan's dire tone, a grave expression on his face. "I was practically dead, Doc... The only thing I remember was what I already explained. The 'Subspace'-stuff-a-muhcallit."

Sylvan took a moment to observe Zeff thoughtfully. "Go and look out of what's left of your window there, boy." was Sylvan's terse reply. "See for yourself."

Zeff wasted no time as he stood to his feet and walked over to his shattered living-room window which was facing central park and his ex-employer, RedBob's. He hadn't noticed the broken window before and furrowed his brow as the shards of broken glass caught his eye as he approached it.

"Slowly, boy. Make sure not to be seen..." warned Sylvan.

At that, Zeff slowed his pace even more, craning his neck to get a better view out of the window. He hadn't known what to expect but the scene he saw before him made his jaw nearly hit the floor. "Matchsticks and microscopes..." he gasped.

Outside his window was utter carnage. There were dozens of police cars and dozens more police officers and investigators. Yellow tape with the words "Entrance forbidden" printed on it had been put up all around the entire park.

Near the edge of the park closest to the residential area, almost in the street, stood the charred remains of what used to be a van or a truck. Next to it was a crater which was as far across as the van was long. Several men were standing around the crater studying and and discussing it intently.

Across the street, the entire front wall of RedBob's was destroyed.

"And that's why we're whispering..." declared Sylvan.

"What the h*ll happened here, Sylvan...?" asked Zeff turning away from the window to face the doctor, his heart beating loud in his ears.

"You happened..." Was Sylvan's curt reply. He then proceeded to quickly explain how Zeff had transformed into an actual dragon, how he had killed Tender-Man (or Zayn) and his men, everything. But he left out the parts about the dragon being able to speak telepathically, how he, himself, had identified the dragon as Rutigorn and especially how he knew who Rutigorn was...

He went on to say that, since morning, cops had been going from door to door asking civilians if they had seen anything suspicious last night. Each time Sylvan had remained quiet in Zeff's room until the cops moved on to the next door. Sylvan didn't mention that the cops would likely soon be back with a warrant once they discovered he had been working at RedBob's last night.

Zeff was sitting down on the sofa in shock, slowly stuffing more bread in his mouth, with a half empty wine bottle in his hand. He had no words. No questions. It was all just so overwhelming. He couldn't fathom or imagine himself killing someone and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"I don't know how this happened, Zeff. But—" whispered Sylvan.

"How do you not know?!" asked Zeff agitated, raising his voice. "Didn't you help create the dracoRex, *Doctor* Sylvan?"

"I'm not that kind of doctor. I am an archaeologist and paleontologist."

Zeff looked puzzled. But before he could put two and two together, Dr. Sylvan interjected, "So did you try it yet?"

Zeff raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what Sylvan was referring to. He was referring to the 'Skill Tree' command that Aida had informed Zeff about.

"Not yet..." Zeff replied sheepishly. "I'm a bit.... Scared." After what had happened in the subspace before, who could blame him.

"That's perfectly nor—"

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK* sounded the door as the voice of a man called out, "Zephaniah Corad! We can hear you in there. This is the RCPD. Could you come out and have a word with us?" As the man said the final words they were followed by the *clickety-clack* of nervous hands fumbling their firearms.

"Why are the cops here!?" exclaimed Zeff, lowering his voice.

"Surely you can figure that out, boy!" whispered Sylvan as he slowly made his way to Zeff's room, pulling Zeff along. Crouching down and pulling Zeff down with him, he continued cryptically, "No matter what, Zeff, they CANNOT catch you. If they do, you are dead, do you understand? There are very powerful people at play here—"

*Crash!*

Suddenly the door was kicked open followed by the sound of several footsteps entering Zeff's apartment.

Zeff's mind was racing at 1000 miles per second as the footsteps began to grow closer. He couldn't fight the police! He was no criminal. But if Sylvan was right, he couldn't give himself up either.

As his mind raced to find a solution, it finally occurred to him what he needed to do. He glanced at doctor Sylvan who was staring back at him with a look of determination and understanding. "Do it." was all he said.

Zeff took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect, and yelled, "Skill Tree!" as the world exploded into vibrant color.