This is my take on Scourge's final thoughts and what might have motivate him to change from a scared kit to a heartless killer with "ice in his veins". It's also my first attempt at a fanfic, so any kind of criticism is welcomed. Whether you like it or you think it's worst thing you've ever read, just call it how you see it.

I remember going to the battle and a faint voice echoing in the back of my head. "You've got your revenge. You've won," it told me, "Why are you still fighting?"

I smiled inwardly as I answered. "Blood."

That was what drove me on. The thrill of watching the blood spill from a cat's throat split wide open, the feel of my reinforced claws tearing through flesh and fur and the indescribable feeling I got when I look into my enemies' eyes as their life is extinguished. With that thought, I finally felt the ice in my veins freeze my heart completely, colder than it's ever been before. And it was liberating. I was completely free from any thought of right or wrong, even that voice which had plagued me until now. I was completely iced over, and ice is strong.

But ice can also be brittle, and I felt it start to crack when the Forest Cats' leader rose back from the dead. "Scourge!" he yowled, "Turn and face me!" I let go of the white cat I was battling with, barely taking notice that he still had a hold on my leg. "How…I killed you!"

"You did. But I am a leader with nine lives who fights alongside StarClan. Can you say as much?" For a brief moment, I felt something almost unfamiliar to me, for it had been so long since the last time I experienced it. Fear. It was quickly replaced by hate; hate for him making me feel that weakening emotion. I am Scourge! I am not weak! If I had to kill this cat eight more times, it would just be eight times the fun. I dislodged a pathetic white cat from my leg before turning on the ginger tom.

After a brief fight, he submitted. The weak fool was afraid to die all nine times in one night. I should've thought as much. But as I was contemplating how best to prolong his suffering, I saw him leap at me, and felt pain sear my pelt and my throat.

No! I yowled in my head. I am Scourge! I can not be beaten! I fought viciously trying to get the fire-colored cat to release me, but it was all in vain. Fire. Fire can melt ice. As I fell from his jaws, I felt my throat start to fill with blood. I watched him prepare for the death blow when he stopped. Why had he stopped? Was he being merciful? No, he just didn't need to waste the effort. I was already as good as dead, suffering the same fate I had delivered to many other cats. But what's worse was that the ice I had welcomed was melting.

I could feel, and I felt regret. I felt sorrow. But most of all, I felt fear. I lay there, between life and death, replaying everything in my head and figuring how I ended up this way. My littermates had taunted me and I couldn't stand it, so I ran. I ran to the forest, hoping for a better life, but was mauled by a tabby tom. Then I ran to the twoleg place, where I met bloodthirsty cats whose way of survival was violence. All I ever wanted was for others to like me, and to do that, I'd have to kill.

So I killed, and killed, and kept on killing, but I realize now that it wasn't anger that drove me here, it was fear. It's always been there. I had to become cold so my cats wouldn't turn on me. I had to look strong. I didn't want to be killed by these bloodthirsty animals I led. I feared them.

I also hated a cat just like them, the one that mauled me and that had died at my paws. With horror, I thought back to a black and white tom and his sister who were living together against my rules. I had to show force, so I had my guards kill his sister while he watched. I had become the thing I hated.

As everything flashed by me, I felt like that helpless kit wandering through the woods only to be found and nearly killed by that huge tabby; only now, the tabby was replaced by a snarling, small, black tom with reinforced claws and cold frozen eyes like chips taken from the ice that was in his heart. I saw me; what I had become: a Scourge on the name of all cats.

I snarled at the image before me, only to feel the blood bubbling in my throat. The image just laughed.

As blackness started ebbing at my vision, I saw the faint images of cats surrounding me, closing in on me. I recognized them as the ones I had killed. And now they'd kill me…permanently. I saw the monster I had become laughing maniacally at me as he was ripped apart, just as I felt it happening to me. It was more agonizing than the worst pain you could possibly imagine, but as I recounted everything that I had done, I knew it was a light punishment.

I have killed too many times to count, ordered the deaths of many more and condemned even more than that just by not allowing them to be helped. And until now, I never felt any remorse for it. In fact, I enjoyed it. I have become the most vile, evil monster to ever have been created.

I know that it makes no difference now, but…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done, every life I've taken, every innocent kit I've doomed to a life like mine. I feel more sorrow than you could ever imagine collecting over the span of ten lifetimes, and that's what I feel ripping me apart, destroying me forever and sending me into oblivion.

I deserve no pity, no mercy and no grief over my death. I deserve more than to be ripped apart by this pain.

I am Scourge, and I have lost everything…