[A/N: I didn't really know what to do for this chapter, I still need to make an outline for this story :p]

As it turns out, the Doctor was quite the teacher, and while I did not know everything, I learned quite a bit through...practice. A few months have passed since I escaped from the Foundation, three to be specific, though I think it's better if I just say left, as it's not like they could detain me to begin with, as I could escape whenever I wished.

It was a surprise when they managed to make me corporal when we last fought, though something I should have expected, as the Foundation was known to have tools that stabilized the surrounding dimension. Such devices were frequently used with SCPs that caused temporal and spatial disturbances, but enough about them.

In these three months, both my Afterlife and I have grown significantly. The soul count in my Afterlife had passed the five-digit mark within the first month and was now sitting at over forty thousand in number; of course, half of those souls did not actually come from New York.

I was expanding my sphere of influence over the world, placing my Weeping Angels in strategic locations around the city and the surrounding towns to cover as much area as possible so that I could catch the souls of whoever died before the others got the souls first. 

"Others?" You might ask, as it turns out, I was not the only reaper in town. That's right. As it seems, the world of SCP definitely had a more...supernatural side of things, 

Of the other reapers I came across, they varied in the faith that they...took too. Such as the Grimm Reapers of the Christian, Greek, and Egyptian faiths. I noticed that there existed some variation of reaper or entity associated with Death and ferrying souls to the afterlife everywhere, in every city, town, and maybe even village in more rural and poorer countries.

Was I essentially stepping on the toes of these Faiths and stealing their believers right from under their noses? Your damn right. I couldn't care less about the preestablished territories and 'Holy Grounds' that the other Reapers I encountered claimed. If every church acted like a territory, then without a doubt, the Christian Faith would have claim over the entire world, but that's not the case. I may or may not have come into conflict with some of these 'Reapers' over the recently deceased's souls and may or may not have found out that these reapers also have souls.

I also may or may not have found a way to wipe a soul of its personality and use it to make one of my Omens, one of my Weeping Angels. I was totally not slowly taking over the island of Manhattan and the surrounding cities and towns that make up the outskirts of New York.

Other than all of those hypothetical situations, I was using my gifts and natural talent. How was I using my gifts and skills, you may be asking? Simple: I was running an 'underground' clinic that offered its services to the more...unsavory types who called the city home.

With what little cash I earned after the first week, I managed to rent out the basement of a small store. I paid rent and hush money to keep my operation a secret from the store owner, who happily accepted the large sums of money I paid them. With the Good Doctors' help, I managed to make a simple clinic that would allow me to fix up my patients from any wounds they may be suffering from. Of course, I had the Good Doctor helping and showing me how to take care of many different types of injuries and sicknesses in exchange for helping him with his project in my Afterlife.

Sure, I would have given what the Doctor asked for regardless, but the Doctor insisted that it be an exchange. It seems that the Good Doctor was not one for owing someone, something that I could respect, as nothing was more valuable to the Doctor than his word and promises, after all. Someone as old as him was still quite the courteous and honorable man despite his...predicament and shortcomings. By predicament, I meant his body. His very clothes and mask were now a part of his body and could regrow and fix themselves with time. He could not take them off, as they were as much a part of him as his own heart was. Sure, I am betting he could take off his mask if he wanted to, but I highly doubt he would, as, more than likely, it would prove quite...uncomfortable. Like removing the flesh off your face, not an appealing picture, that's for sure.

As for his...shortcomings, the Doctor can be a pretty ruthless and cold-hearted man...thing. Our first visit by some low-tier gangsters ended up with the Doctor killing them after they threatened themselves and me. Now, I am the only one who interacts with the lowlifes, and I have slowly begun gaining a reputation in the...criminal circles of the city. A reputation that made me appear ruthless and mysterious. 

I gained this reputation after a small gang did not pay for my services; the next time they showed up, I made an example out of them, recording myself effortlessly beating the four men to the ground before slowly breaking them one by one on camera.

I tore out their fingernails first, then broke their fingers and wrists, snapped their arms in the wrong direction, amputated their limbs, and forced them to stay awake as I slowly opened them up and took out their organs. Their screams of agony forced me to pay quite a bit to keep the Store Owner above my clinic quiet, though I believe I scared them as well.

As for their remains, I fed them to the dogs and shaped their bones to make lovely little treats for the 939s. Speaking of which, the Doctor disapproved of my...affection for the little monsters, stating that I should "Throw them into a fire and then use a napalm thrower just in case." I think he had some run-ins with the dogs and has since seen them as nothing but irritating 'pests,' his words, not mine.

So much has happened these past couple of months that I still couldn't help but be thankful for this new life of mine. Sure, it was filled with its ups and downs, but regardless, I honestly can't think of going back to my old life, one where I was a nobody, a weakling, and a mortal.

I guess as time passed, I cared less and less about my humanity. What little fumes I had left were few and far between. I didn't feel disgusted or anything else when I took the lives of others. I just did not care. I wasn't human. Something that would have shocked me when I first arrived in this world, but now? Now, it was only the truth.

Sure, I still felt emotions, such as hate, love, happiness, etc, but now? Now, they did not control me. They did not shape who I was, nor did they affect my actions.

Did that make me a monster? A monster because my Humanity no longer held me back, a monster because I could take a human life with the swipe of a hand and at the drop of a hat?