There's a pounding in Vander's head. Adrenaline mixed with rage coils deep in his gut. He grunts, his massive claws digging into the walls on either side of him.

Vander died years ago. Not figuratively, no, no. Quite literally. A horrible death, at that. Years later, he finds himself alive, but completely chemically altered. He's far larger now, perhaps three times the size of any normal human being. Coarse fur all over his body, blue-green eyes, and sharp teeth. A hunched-over stance, but still intimidating. Long claws, and big hands. All he does these days is roar, grunt, and smash enforcers to a pulp.

He didn't ask for this.

Granted, he's grateful to be alive. But this appearance, this way of living? It's not worth it. Who knows where Vi and Powder are now, all these years later? For all he knows, they could be dead.

The thought makes him sick, and he roars, smashing his massive fist into the rock wall on his left. He's seeing red, literally. All he wants to do is wreak havoc.

What has become of him?

There's a shuffle a few feet away. Vander huffs, growling as he quickly turns around and gives the boulder a hard glare. He bares his teeth, his giant form lumbering forward. All he can muster once he reaches the big rock is, "Who?"