"He was an average man, middle-class job, with 3 children and a loving wife. Was. After they took him away.. things never were the same again. Day in, day out, rigorous experimentation so insidious, even I fear to mention it, went on, rarely ceasing unless the cruel, crooked culprits wanted to observe the effects of their most recent handiwork.
They hung the promise of seeing his family once again over his face, like a carrot with a mule, an empty promise, to say the least.

They took away this and that, and added something else, cutting and slicing, stitching and sewing, trying to figure out how to reach their sick-minding intentions.

They never did, though, and one day, he struck out.
It was violent and bloody, and he suffered great pain, but he had escaped the confines of their institute, and burned the place to the ground.
He hadn't but a shred of skin left, which too, slowly fell off, and had enough stitches to look like a patchwork quilt, the staples and thread rubbing against the raw, bloody flesh upon his body.
He saw himself, not long after, whilst the piles of smoke rose to the sky, and knew that from now on, seeing his family was forever out of the question, and that he would want them to remember him as they knew him, and not as the abominable creature he had become.

There was an explosion within the facility, and piles of paper and letters were launched into the sky, one of which became stuck to his arm, titled, "To our husband and daddy."
Opening it, the harsh paper rubbed against his fingers as he clawed at the envelope, trying to open it, and resorted to opening the envelope with his teeth, tearing it apart easily.
Through a film of crimson, he gazed upon the words on the page, and feelings of anguish and grief seeped through the poor soul, who collapsed to his knees, grieving for the ones he could never see again.

From then he lived out in the wilds, surviving on what he could, eventually drowning himself deeper and deeper into woe, and eventually madness. Barbaric, brutal, evil, these words could describe him, as he replicated what they did to him, upon others.
The animals he.. it caught were skinned alive, torn apart, attached back together, and in gruesome, sickening shapes and forms, as they became a collage of twitching muscles and bunched-up veins.

But the supply of animals was running low, so low.. so very.. very low.. and the city wasn't too far, so why not?
Limping and groaning, the bare, dirty soil beginning to take its toll on its bleeding, raw feet, it made his way to the city, and waited for night to come.
A kindly old woman was its first victim, she didn't last long, thank goodness, she had experienced more pain than she ever had in her 80 years, and the monster hadn't even cared.

It was too busy sinking deeper into insanity, its world becoming a bloody void of pain and misery, and through blood-soaked eyes it realised what it had done, after an quickly accumulating pile of moaning bodies and mutilated corpses had built up in its temporary home.
Seeing its own inhumanity, it cried out into the night, screaming for what must have been an hour on end, before passing out from exhaustion.

It swore, that from that day, it would never harm another person, at any cost.
It heard a scream, and a small child running off alarmed the monster, who chased after her and held her fast, the sweat from her panic seeping into his bare flesh, stinging like nettles.
But the pain was beginning to fade, he was getting used to everything hurting, even breathing.
His grip was released when he recognised the child, who fled from the scene, bawling, and he muttered a single sentence from under his mutilated, indiscernible mouth.
"My little girl..""

"Diaries owned by the mysterious creature, now known as "The Fleshy One", as named by the locals catching sight of the bloody figure, pacing around the forest, hoping to one day be re-united with his family.
It is said you can hear his unearthly cries in the dead of night, his deathly ailment still causing him agony, and that one who listens for too long can feel every drop of pain and misery within his flesh.

Be careful, PMCers, but please remember the sacrifices He has made."