Mr. Trent woke from a nightmare to find he was exactly where he had been when he passed out. The shock of turning to a reptile, shrinking away, and then being plucked from his own clothes and thrown in a glass jar has proved too much for his psyche to handle. Now he found his clawed hands grasping the transparent glass of his prison, three holes had been punched into the tin lid for him to breathe. His new scale struck home and the high powered businessman became keenly aware of his nudity - a human concept lingering - and the cold that seemed to envelop him here. He darted his gaze around, struggling to move in the confines of the jar, and gulped as his tail struck the glass around him. All he could see were burning lights around him. And infinity beyond.
"Arthur Trent..." A voice seemed to savour the name in the darkness beyond the glaring lights.
The noise reverberated hollowly off the glass surrounding the lizard. Trent blinked his lizard eyes feebly against the scathing lights, wincing once or twice as he tried to focus. It proved impossible. He tried to demand who was there, but it came out as a raspy hiss. In a panic, he flailed about in terror.
"Now, now." The Collector said calmly, evenly. "You've changed, yes. But your heart condition hasn't. You're running on one less chamber, too. Best to stay calm."
Trent felt the pulsation from his chest and became keenly aware of his helplessness. He ceased struggling and his green color drained somewhat as he slumped to the glass of the jar, feeling colder and more lethargic by the second. Heavy. He tried to collect his wits and covered his eyes with his bulky lizard palms.
"There." The voice offered approval. "A fitting fate for you. You've spent your life acting like exactly what you are now. A mix of cold blood and man, more instinct and the need for selfish survival. It's interesting, you know."
Trent could only listen to the torment, trying to keep his breathing even. Feeling heavier and sleepier.
"The client wanted you a lizard. 'An old damned lizard' I believe were the words. And the thing about lizards is they need warmth to survive. Your life has been devoid of warmth, your fortune horded away, not even a cent to charity. Nobody save for your wife will miss you. Even that is debatable. We shall see why in the due course of time."
At the implication of his own impending death, Arthur Trent sprang awake, shaking feebly amidst the glass surrounding him. The damned lights blinding him. He hissed wildly, begged, felt like he might cry, but tears were now impossible anyway.
"I've been instructed to let you go into torpid shock. I'm to place your glass housing into deep freeze and let the cold do the rest. You'll freeze to death, slowly, painfully. First comes the lethargy. Then you'll simply sit there while your body freezes and cracks around you. Your brain will still be very much alive even as your organs shut down. Your last thoughts will be desperate panic as you try to breathe, and realize you can't. Suffocation will occur, and finally your brain will die. You'll be thankful for the relief as the burning frost bitten pain numbs and you at last fade forever."
At this, Trent huddled back into the bottom of the jar, shaking in terror.
"Yes. Quite awful." The Collector seemed entirely devoid of sympathy or emotion. Only cold mechanical words. "But your wife was quite determined to make your last moments as uncomfortable as possible."
At this, Trent hissed a curse, his color returning in full and maniacal rage glaring through his slitted eyes. The inflection was clear.
Finally, the lights dimmed, and the lizard witnessed a face emerge from the darkness around him. A terrifying visage of something that was manlike but not entirely human. Terrible deep red flesh, burned and ulcerous. Teeth filed to deadly points, grinning as like Satan himself. No ears. Dark eyes. Dressed in all black. And then a gnarled hand reached forward, which Trent skittered away from in pure distilled horror, forcing himself as far back into the base of the jar.
"I'm going to let you live." Collector said decisively. "And I will make you a man again. Eventually. Now do calm down, Mr. Trent." The giant mangled hand turned palm up, waiting, as the lid of the jar fell away.
The lizard felt his heart aching in fear, but somehow he managed. Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, Trent padded forward, slowly, feebly, and placed himself into the giant's diseased flesh.
"There." Collector said with satisfaction. "You have literally placed your life into my very hand. A show of trust. A will to keep living. Existing. Wonderful."
Feeling himself being placed down, Trent now found himself on a large black table, half obscured before by the darkness. With the lights turned down, the former human was now amazed by his new senses. His eyes sharper than they had ever been before, his scent intoxicating him with new power, his body relaxing as a warm lamp clicked on above him.
The Collector rose and began crossing the room into the void of darkness. "You'll stay here and recover for a time. I trust you'll refrain from exploring. It would be a shame if I did have to freeze you after all."