IAPD - Patient Files
Posted: Sat May 19, 2012 7:58 pm
Iaconian Asylum for Processor Disorders
Rung - Psychoanalyst: First Session – Patient # 0666
Rung had been doing this for more vorns than he cared to remember, but every occasion never ceased to amaze him. There were so many mechs and femmes with so many different problems that he found it almost difficult to keep up with them. Almost. He was a professional after all. What was it Kup had told him decades ago? Ah yes, ‘If ya have reservations concernin’ yer function you can always go take it up with someone who can beat it out of ya.’ Rung chuckled lightly to himself as he moved to the terminal that was situated on his desk.
Letting out a heavy sigh the doctor set the device to record and took a seat. He was quiet for a moment as he reviewed the data slate he was currently holding.
“The initial meeting of patient #0666 was performed by a colleague approximately ten cycles prior to this session. Unfortunately the patient seemed unresponsive to his doctor’s attempts to help; hence his transfer to my register.”
Rung grew quiet again as he thumbed through the electronic pages. The file on this particular mech was not very detailed, but it certainly was long. How on Cybertron could there be so much yet so little. The query churned around his processor for half a breem before he realized that the terminal was still recording.
“Oh! Uh, to…um…continue. After some time studying the patient’s file I’ve come to the conclusion that the proper way to approach would be to start at the beginning. And seeing as there really is no beginning I’d say…*ahem*…yes then let’s get things started.“
The lithe mech stood back up from his chair and began to pace back and forth in front of his desk.
“I’ve had the patient brought up from solitary confinement but I’ve told the security guards to remove his restraints. I wish for him to feel as though he has nothing to fear while participating in these sessions.”
Rung stopped his manic movements and stepped back to the desk where he cut the recorder. He’d have to have his patient’s permission to record anything. They did have rights, after all. Once that task was completed he sent an acknowledgment to the two guards who brought the mech up from his darkened padded room.
While he waited, Rung picked up the data slate that contained the confusing file on his new ward and moved to one of two chairs set on either side of a small low table. Not long after settling in the door chime sounded prompting him to bid the trio to enter.
The door slid out of the way and in walked two bulky lumbering orderlies and between then stood a shorter mech, thin in appearance but he still held an air of strength and dignity. Upon first seeing him one would think there was nothing wrong. But not everyone was able to read what lie beneath the surface.
“Good afternoon. Please take a seat.”
The purple mech narrowed his optics as he took in his surroundings, including the skinny orange doctor. Everything about him seemed to radiate contempt.
Rung watched his new patient carefully for any sign of just what he might be like. Observation, the best friend of any psychoanalyst. Just watching could uncover so much. He refused to take a seat until the other mech was comfortable enough to take his.
The doctor placed his arms behind his back, the data slate still held in his right hand.
The thin mech kept his optics glued to his opposite as he began to make his way around the room, slowly, deliberately. He wanted this mech, his new doctor, to be more uncomfortable than he was, or appeared to be. He stopped when he came to a large shelf adorned with an assortment of models. Models of space craft. How cute. The mech sent Rung a slight smile over his shoulder before he moved on.
Rung stiffened slightly when the purple bot stopped to examine his collection. However once he moved past Rung’s shoulders dropped as he began to relax. The smile, however, was something he was not expecting.
Finally, after what seemed like cycles the mech moved to the chair opposite Rung and took a seat and crossed his legs. He interlaced his servos and placed his hands neatly in his lap. All the while his optics bore into Rung’s. It was disturbing, but Rung was accustomed to these forms of intimidation.
“Right. Well, it would seem…what is your designation? Um, it doesn’t seem to be listed in your file.”
Breaking off optics contact, the purple mech looked about the room once more. Rung simply waited. Eventually he would have to reveal something about himself…after all Rung cleared his entire schedule in order to work with him.
The doctor opened his mouth to repeat the question when he was suddenly cut off by a voice that seemed too refined and proper to have come from the mech sitting before.
“Darkride.”
Dumbfounded Rung found his voice again, his jaw snapping shut only to open once more.
“I’m sorry?”
Darkride turned his head slowly so that he faced his doctor, a broad smile plastered on his handsomely defined features.
“You asked for my designation. I have just provided it to you…doctor.”
“Ah yes. Right. Thank you, Darkride.”
The mech nodded once.
*Ahem* “ I’d like to get some background information. I’d also like to record this entire session, if that’s alright with you.”
Darkride’s features hardened slightly before he adjusted his position and offered a nod of agreement. With his patient’s approval, Rung made his way to the terminal and set the device to record.
“Very good. Now then, where do you hail from, Darkride?”
“I come from Kaon, from an area just outside of the Dead End.”
Rung was surprised that such a sophisticated mech could come from such a derelict backwashed locale. But he was not here to judge, he was here to help, no matter who needed it. With the slate in his hand Rung entered the information in the correct corresponding area with in Darkride’s file.
“Did you ever leave Kaon for another location on Cybertron?”
“I remained in Kaon for a considerable amount of time before I found it too…confining.”
Rung looked up from the pad and tilted his head ever so slightly. This was interesting.
“How was Kaon ‘confining’? It’s such a large city-state.”
“That does not mean it cannot be confining, doctor.”
Darkride uncrossed his legs only to cross them over in the opposite direction. Along with the movement the purple mech flashed his therapist a dashing smile.
“How about we get to the really juicy things? Do you not wish to hear about why I was brought here? Or about why I had to elude the Rodion police? Oh, and let us not forget the amount of bodies that seemed to pile up whenever I happened to show up.”
Darkride let both of his legs fall to the floor. The mech then leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The look in the mech’s optics sent a small shiver of fear down his spinal structure. He’d seen plenty of deranged bots in his life, but the look he received just now blew them all out of the water.
“Alright, Dakride. Why don’t you tell me why you were brought here?”
Darkride flashed Rung a toothy grin, the sharpened fangs slickened over by the mech’s tongue.
“Good choice. I was brought here only because there was no other facility that would accept my admittance. You see my dear doctor; I am a victim of circumstance. I have spent my entire existence trapped.”
“How are you trapped? You’re free to roam where you please and you have the freedom to express yourself.”
“Ah, but that is just it, doctor. I am unable to express myself. I want to be able to feel, but in order for me to do that…well let us just say that it is considered illegal.”
Rung nodded in understanding. From what he could piece together from this short time, and what was provided in the file, that Darkride found murder exciting and wished for nothing more than to be able to do it without persecution. It was highly unacceptable on any planet.
“Have you tried to find another outlet for this need? Something that would be legally acceptable?”
Darkride let out a low chuckle. He had tried, and he had found something, and that something was incredible. He leaned back in his chair and raised his leg, placing it gently on his knee.
“Oh doctor, the act of which I have come to rely upon is utterly sensational. The thrill that is gained fuels me to extremes. Were it a drug I would have overdosed a thousand times over.”
Rung let a smile creep onto his face. Perhaps there was hope. After all if Darkride could find something this enhancing to draw his attention, than there was hope.
“That’s excellent. Exactly what is it that occupies your time now that you’ve satiated your need to kill?”
There was a low timbre that began deep within Darkride that only seemed to grow. The smile on Rung’s face quickly faded as he tried to grasp the irony of the situation. What was it that he didn’t see?
“The frustrations that I feel can only be satisfied by me. I must take things into my own hands.”
Rung shook his head letting the purple mech know that he didn’t understand what was being explained to him.
“A slice here. A tear there. A pull of sensors. The ripping of muscle cables. Oh doctor the sound is intoxicating, but the feel, oh the feel is just so much more. There is just something sensual about tearing one’s own parts out. The flow of spilled energon. That sweet, sweet smell of fear knowing that this time you just might go too far.”
The smile that had formed on Darkride’s face melted into something sinister. Something angry. When next he spoke his tone was low.
“But like all highs they end, probably almost as quickly as they begin. And once it is gone there is no getting it back. Unless…unless you search it out. By that time the want has reproduced and the only thing that fills your processor is that insatiable need.”
“So, this urge, once satisfied on you by your own hands, fades and you feel compelled to continue to fulfill this need causing you to what?”
Darkride let out a contemplative sigh and leaned back against the back of the chair. There was so much to reveal.
“I think I will begin by telling you a story. I was young and I was living in the slums near the Dead End. I had always known that I was different, I was not fully aware of just how different. In the district I resided in I had met a young femme. She was beautiful and kind and very naive. We became fast friends, but there was something within that possessed me. I had this deep desire. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to hear her screaming…to see her bloody corpse lying still before me. There was no reason, I just felt as though… I had to.”
The future Decepticon crossed his legs once more and interlocked his servos placing them back into his lap.
“I successfully repressed that urge by taking things ‘into my own hands.’ That is when I felt it, doctor. That rush of fear was the answer to my wanton desire. But then it was over and I still wanted more. So much more and there was only one way to appease the need. I searched out that beautiful, kindly femme and when I finally found her I advanced without a word. At first she did not know who it was that attacked her or even what to do. And when she regained her faculties she was still unable to fight me off.”
Darkride stared into Rung’s wide optics as he listened intently to the rendition that was being offered. It was utterly appalling listening to this mech speak and not so much as feel any kind of remorse.
“It was easy for me to pin her down to the ground, after all even at a young age I was still slightly larger than she was. But I digress. With her completely subdued I proceeded to rip out vital components. I even resorted to tearing out delicate neck cables with my teeth. And for the final hurrah…I had placed both hands on the sides of her lovely face and proceeded to bash her cranium into the ground. Each blow resonated so loudly…so harmoniously. It was such an exhilarating experience I just had to do it again, and again, and again.”
Darkride let out a deep chuckle as he stared at the psychoanalyst and his repulsed expression. He was used to it. His renditions, after all, were the reasons why he had been moved around so much, and why he seemed to receive so many doctors.
Darkride paused as he thought a moment.
“I believe it was the unfathomable fear that shone in her optics that fed my craving further.”
Darkride stared into Rung’s wide optics as he listened intently to the rendition that was being offered. It was utterly appalling listening to this mech speak with not so much as a feeling of any kind of remorse.
“When she was finally found by the police, there was nothing left that was recognizable. Her head lie in a gathering pool of energon and other fluids, but I did not stop there. Before I left I decided to remove her brain module. After I claimed my prize I stomped furiously on what was left of her cranium. It all felt so satisfying.”
Rung stared in shocked awe at what his patient had revealed to him. Never in his career had he heard something put so blatant and carefree. It became apparent that this mech, Darkride, was not seeking help but simply a place where he could hide. He found a location where he could feel safe to confess anything he wished for he knew everything he said was confidential. But what confounded Rung the most was the lack of guilt over his past transgressions.
“The brain module, the one you took from the femme, what did you do with it?”
Darkride gazed deeply into Rung’s optics as he answered.
“And if I told you I consumed it?”
The doctor’s expression turned serious as he stared right back into Darkride’s deep crimson optics. The smile on the future Con’s face melted as he met Rung’s stare with absolute malice.
“Well, Darkride, is there anything else you’d like to add before we end this session?”
The purple mech’s lip curled up slightly revealing two elongated canines. His optics narrowed to thin slits as he took in the form of the slim orange mech.
“Yes, doctor. I would really like to slit your throat right now.”
Rung made no movement; instead he sent a message to the two orderlies that had taken up positions outside of his door. The door slid to the side and both large mechs stepped in. Each one took a hold of Darkride’s arms and lifted him out of the chair. But before they could get him out the door he made them stop. They loosened their grip so he could turn to face his new doctor, a demented smirk on his face.
“Will we be continuing these sessions, doctor? If so, goody, goody.”
Both mechs tightened their grips and turned Darkride back around. He was guided out of the office and back to depths of hell from which he came. In the meantime Rung stood up from his chair, legs shaking slightly and he made his way to his desk. He quickly deactivated the recording device and placed the file down on the table top.
He placed his hand flat on the counter, brought up his free hand and ran it down the length of his face. Today was, disturbing, but he was determined to help this mech, even if he seemed he didn’t want it.
“I must be out of my processor.”
Rung - Psychoanalyst: First Session – Patient # 0666
Rung had been doing this for more vorns than he cared to remember, but every occasion never ceased to amaze him. There were so many mechs and femmes with so many different problems that he found it almost difficult to keep up with them. Almost. He was a professional after all. What was it Kup had told him decades ago? Ah yes, ‘If ya have reservations concernin’ yer function you can always go take it up with someone who can beat it out of ya.’ Rung chuckled lightly to himself as he moved to the terminal that was situated on his desk.
Letting out a heavy sigh the doctor set the device to record and took a seat. He was quiet for a moment as he reviewed the data slate he was currently holding.
“The initial meeting of patient #0666 was performed by a colleague approximately ten cycles prior to this session. Unfortunately the patient seemed unresponsive to his doctor’s attempts to help; hence his transfer to my register.”
Rung grew quiet again as he thumbed through the electronic pages. The file on this particular mech was not very detailed, but it certainly was long. How on Cybertron could there be so much yet so little. The query churned around his processor for half a breem before he realized that the terminal was still recording.
“Oh! Uh, to…um…continue. After some time studying the patient’s file I’ve come to the conclusion that the proper way to approach would be to start at the beginning. And seeing as there really is no beginning I’d say…*ahem*…yes then let’s get things started.“
The lithe mech stood back up from his chair and began to pace back and forth in front of his desk.
“I’ve had the patient brought up from solitary confinement but I’ve told the security guards to remove his restraints. I wish for him to feel as though he has nothing to fear while participating in these sessions.”
Rung stopped his manic movements and stepped back to the desk where he cut the recorder. He’d have to have his patient’s permission to record anything. They did have rights, after all. Once that task was completed he sent an acknowledgment to the two guards who brought the mech up from his darkened padded room.
While he waited, Rung picked up the data slate that contained the confusing file on his new ward and moved to one of two chairs set on either side of a small low table. Not long after settling in the door chime sounded prompting him to bid the trio to enter.
The door slid out of the way and in walked two bulky lumbering orderlies and between then stood a shorter mech, thin in appearance but he still held an air of strength and dignity. Upon first seeing him one would think there was nothing wrong. But not everyone was able to read what lie beneath the surface.
“Good afternoon. Please take a seat.”
The purple mech narrowed his optics as he took in his surroundings, including the skinny orange doctor. Everything about him seemed to radiate contempt.
Rung watched his new patient carefully for any sign of just what he might be like. Observation, the best friend of any psychoanalyst. Just watching could uncover so much. He refused to take a seat until the other mech was comfortable enough to take his.
The doctor placed his arms behind his back, the data slate still held in his right hand.
The thin mech kept his optics glued to his opposite as he began to make his way around the room, slowly, deliberately. He wanted this mech, his new doctor, to be more uncomfortable than he was, or appeared to be. He stopped when he came to a large shelf adorned with an assortment of models. Models of space craft. How cute. The mech sent Rung a slight smile over his shoulder before he moved on.
Rung stiffened slightly when the purple bot stopped to examine his collection. However once he moved past Rung’s shoulders dropped as he began to relax. The smile, however, was something he was not expecting.
Finally, after what seemed like cycles the mech moved to the chair opposite Rung and took a seat and crossed his legs. He interlaced his servos and placed his hands neatly in his lap. All the while his optics bore into Rung’s. It was disturbing, but Rung was accustomed to these forms of intimidation.
“Right. Well, it would seem…what is your designation? Um, it doesn’t seem to be listed in your file.”
Breaking off optics contact, the purple mech looked about the room once more. Rung simply waited. Eventually he would have to reveal something about himself…after all Rung cleared his entire schedule in order to work with him.
The doctor opened his mouth to repeat the question when he was suddenly cut off by a voice that seemed too refined and proper to have come from the mech sitting before.
“Darkride.”
Dumbfounded Rung found his voice again, his jaw snapping shut only to open once more.
“I’m sorry?”
Darkride turned his head slowly so that he faced his doctor, a broad smile plastered on his handsomely defined features.
“You asked for my designation. I have just provided it to you…doctor.”
“Ah yes. Right. Thank you, Darkride.”
The mech nodded once.
*Ahem* “ I’d like to get some background information. I’d also like to record this entire session, if that’s alright with you.”
Darkride’s features hardened slightly before he adjusted his position and offered a nod of agreement. With his patient’s approval, Rung made his way to the terminal and set the device to record.
“Very good. Now then, where do you hail from, Darkride?”
“I come from Kaon, from an area just outside of the Dead End.”
Rung was surprised that such a sophisticated mech could come from such a derelict backwashed locale. But he was not here to judge, he was here to help, no matter who needed it. With the slate in his hand Rung entered the information in the correct corresponding area with in Darkride’s file.
“Did you ever leave Kaon for another location on Cybertron?”
“I remained in Kaon for a considerable amount of time before I found it too…confining.”
Rung looked up from the pad and tilted his head ever so slightly. This was interesting.
“How was Kaon ‘confining’? It’s such a large city-state.”
“That does not mean it cannot be confining, doctor.”
Darkride uncrossed his legs only to cross them over in the opposite direction. Along with the movement the purple mech flashed his therapist a dashing smile.
“How about we get to the really juicy things? Do you not wish to hear about why I was brought here? Or about why I had to elude the Rodion police? Oh, and let us not forget the amount of bodies that seemed to pile up whenever I happened to show up.”
Darkride let both of his legs fall to the floor. The mech then leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The look in the mech’s optics sent a small shiver of fear down his spinal structure. He’d seen plenty of deranged bots in his life, but the look he received just now blew them all out of the water.
“Alright, Dakride. Why don’t you tell me why you were brought here?”
Darkride flashed Rung a toothy grin, the sharpened fangs slickened over by the mech’s tongue.
“Good choice. I was brought here only because there was no other facility that would accept my admittance. You see my dear doctor; I am a victim of circumstance. I have spent my entire existence trapped.”
“How are you trapped? You’re free to roam where you please and you have the freedom to express yourself.”
“Ah, but that is just it, doctor. I am unable to express myself. I want to be able to feel, but in order for me to do that…well let us just say that it is considered illegal.”
Rung nodded in understanding. From what he could piece together from this short time, and what was provided in the file, that Darkride found murder exciting and wished for nothing more than to be able to do it without persecution. It was highly unacceptable on any planet.
“Have you tried to find another outlet for this need? Something that would be legally acceptable?”
Darkride let out a low chuckle. He had tried, and he had found something, and that something was incredible. He leaned back in his chair and raised his leg, placing it gently on his knee.
“Oh doctor, the act of which I have come to rely upon is utterly sensational. The thrill that is gained fuels me to extremes. Were it a drug I would have overdosed a thousand times over.”
Rung let a smile creep onto his face. Perhaps there was hope. After all if Darkride could find something this enhancing to draw his attention, than there was hope.
“That’s excellent. Exactly what is it that occupies your time now that you’ve satiated your need to kill?”
There was a low timbre that began deep within Darkride that only seemed to grow. The smile on Rung’s face quickly faded as he tried to grasp the irony of the situation. What was it that he didn’t see?
“The frustrations that I feel can only be satisfied by me. I must take things into my own hands.”
Rung shook his head letting the purple mech know that he didn’t understand what was being explained to him.
“A slice here. A tear there. A pull of sensors. The ripping of muscle cables. Oh doctor the sound is intoxicating, but the feel, oh the feel is just so much more. There is just something sensual about tearing one’s own parts out. The flow of spilled energon. That sweet, sweet smell of fear knowing that this time you just might go too far.”
The smile that had formed on Darkride’s face melted into something sinister. Something angry. When next he spoke his tone was low.
“But like all highs they end, probably almost as quickly as they begin. And once it is gone there is no getting it back. Unless…unless you search it out. By that time the want has reproduced and the only thing that fills your processor is that insatiable need.”
“So, this urge, once satisfied on you by your own hands, fades and you feel compelled to continue to fulfill this need causing you to what?”
Darkride let out a contemplative sigh and leaned back against the back of the chair. There was so much to reveal.
“I think I will begin by telling you a story. I was young and I was living in the slums near the Dead End. I had always known that I was different, I was not fully aware of just how different. In the district I resided in I had met a young femme. She was beautiful and kind and very naive. We became fast friends, but there was something within that possessed me. I had this deep desire. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to hear her screaming…to see her bloody corpse lying still before me. There was no reason, I just felt as though… I had to.”
The future Decepticon crossed his legs once more and interlocked his servos placing them back into his lap.
“I successfully repressed that urge by taking things ‘into my own hands.’ That is when I felt it, doctor. That rush of fear was the answer to my wanton desire. But then it was over and I still wanted more. So much more and there was only one way to appease the need. I searched out that beautiful, kindly femme and when I finally found her I advanced without a word. At first she did not know who it was that attacked her or even what to do. And when she regained her faculties she was still unable to fight me off.”
Darkride stared into Rung’s wide optics as he listened intently to the rendition that was being offered. It was utterly appalling listening to this mech speak and not so much as feel any kind of remorse.
“It was easy for me to pin her down to the ground, after all even at a young age I was still slightly larger than she was. But I digress. With her completely subdued I proceeded to rip out vital components. I even resorted to tearing out delicate neck cables with my teeth. And for the final hurrah…I had placed both hands on the sides of her lovely face and proceeded to bash her cranium into the ground. Each blow resonated so loudly…so harmoniously. It was such an exhilarating experience I just had to do it again, and again, and again.”
Darkride let out a deep chuckle as he stared at the psychoanalyst and his repulsed expression. He was used to it. His renditions, after all, were the reasons why he had been moved around so much, and why he seemed to receive so many doctors.
Darkride paused as he thought a moment.
“I believe it was the unfathomable fear that shone in her optics that fed my craving further.”
Darkride stared into Rung’s wide optics as he listened intently to the rendition that was being offered. It was utterly appalling listening to this mech speak with not so much as a feeling of any kind of remorse.
“When she was finally found by the police, there was nothing left that was recognizable. Her head lie in a gathering pool of energon and other fluids, but I did not stop there. Before I left I decided to remove her brain module. After I claimed my prize I stomped furiously on what was left of her cranium. It all felt so satisfying.”
Rung stared in shocked awe at what his patient had revealed to him. Never in his career had he heard something put so blatant and carefree. It became apparent that this mech, Darkride, was not seeking help but simply a place where he could hide. He found a location where he could feel safe to confess anything he wished for he knew everything he said was confidential. But what confounded Rung the most was the lack of guilt over his past transgressions.
“The brain module, the one you took from the femme, what did you do with it?”
Darkride gazed deeply into Rung’s optics as he answered.
“And if I told you I consumed it?”
The doctor’s expression turned serious as he stared right back into Darkride’s deep crimson optics. The smile on the future Con’s face melted as he met Rung’s stare with absolute malice.
“Well, Darkride, is there anything else you’d like to add before we end this session?”
The purple mech’s lip curled up slightly revealing two elongated canines. His optics narrowed to thin slits as he took in the form of the slim orange mech.
“Yes, doctor. I would really like to slit your throat right now.”
Rung made no movement; instead he sent a message to the two orderlies that had taken up positions outside of his door. The door slid to the side and both large mechs stepped in. Each one took a hold of Darkride’s arms and lifted him out of the chair. But before they could get him out the door he made them stop. They loosened their grip so he could turn to face his new doctor, a demented smirk on his face.
“Will we be continuing these sessions, doctor? If so, goody, goody.”
Both mechs tightened their grips and turned Darkride back around. He was guided out of the office and back to depths of hell from which he came. In the meantime Rung stood up from his chair, legs shaking slightly and he made his way to his desk. He quickly deactivated the recording device and placed the file down on the table top.
He placed his hand flat on the counter, brought up his free hand and ran it down the length of his face. Today was, disturbing, but he was determined to help this mech, even if he seemed he didn’t want it.
“I must be out of my processor.”