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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.”

Wow. This is awesome. Got some nice backstory to your RPG Characters too.

Iaconian Asylum for Processor Disorders

Rung – Psychoanalyst: Follow up session – Patient #01313

Begin recording…

After the war broke out it seemed as though there was an even bigger influx of patients then there had been only vorns ago. Rung didn’t complain, after all he was here to help, and with a few of his patients he was. But there were still the odd few that just wouldn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, be helped no matter how devoted he was.

The memories of past mechs and femmes who had finally succumbed to fate, either by their own hands or by someone else, was almost too hard to bear. Rung chided himself mentally for deviating from his current situation. The patient he was set to see was something of an enigma. Not since patient #0666 had he been more perplexed.

The thin orange mech depressed the recording button on his desk top terminal and stood up. There was no need to inquire about permission to commence recording, this patient readily asked for it from the time of their first session. The request was not unusual therefore nothing was thought of it.

File in hand Rung moved from behind his desk and took a seat in one of the two available chairs. The file, which was stored on a data slate, was overflowing with notations and guides. The mech who would be arriving shortly was difficult to decipher. Most, if not all, of his previous therapists had given up on trying to help, signing him off as a lost cause. But here at the IAPD the staff believed that everyone could be helped, no matter how far gone they were. It was a sentiment Rung stood behind and believed in as well.

Finally seated the therapist cleared his throat and began a rundown on the patient’s prior session.

“Patient #01313. It has been 5 cycles since our last meeting. I have inquired about his condition while in his cell and I have been assured that my patient is doing well and has also decided to cooperate more readily. This has assured me that there has been progress made.”

The room grew silent as Rung placed the tip of the data slate against his bottom lip. He wanted to come up with some form of release for this particular mech, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, the doctor lowered the slate and shook his head. A long low sigh escaped as he leaned back further in his chair. At the sound of the door chime Rung pulled himself up straight and rose completely to his feet.

“Enter.”

From behind the door came three mechs. Two large orderlies, who looked more like prison guards, and one short gangly creature. There was one feature on this mech that stood out above all else. Upon his head, covering his face was a restraint. It was fastened to the back of his cranium and came equipped with a failsafe mechanism. The newly designed and upgraded version of the deterrence chip. It had all of the ease of the older model but the new Inhibitor/Deterrence chips, were capable of disabling a mech with the push of one little button.

Just the thought of someone having to go through what would happen if one of the chips was detonated made Rung sick to his tanks. Thus far he hadn’t witness or heard of any patients falling down that road, but you never knew.

“Thank you gentlemechs. That will be all.”

The therapist motioned for the orderlies to take up their positions just outside the door. He then turned his attention to the other mech in the room. With a gesture of his hand Rung offered his patient a seat. The mech nodded and did as requested. The restraint made it quite difficult to see exactly what expressions his patient was using. A difficult situation but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“So, Kronus. I’ve been told that you’ve finally decided to cooperate with the staff in your ward. Is there anything that brought on such a change of spark?”

The head of the slight mech turned upward as he let out a contemplative hum. It only took him a few moments to come up with the answer he wanted to provide.

“I think I’d have to say…because I wanna be sure I get fed daily.”

Rung’s head popped up and sent the mech across from him a concerned look. This is something he had not heard before. But then again Kronus was a pathological liar. It was how he was able to survive so long in Rodion. The surprised expression faded from the delicate features of Rung’s visage.

“There is plenty of security at this facility that if a patient was abused in any way security would intervene. So, let’s get back on track, shall we?”

Kronus turned his head to the right and answered the doctor with a high shoulder shrug.

“Good. Since my last inquiry was not to your liking I’ll move on. Now, during our last session you spoke about your home back in Rodion. Would you care to tell me what you did there?”

“Well, what I’d care to do right now and get the hell outta here, but since that isn’t an option then sure. When I was livin’ on the streets, along with the trash, I found out that energon and all the other amenities needed to live cost credits. Go figure, right. That was when I made the decision to put my quick wit and even faster hands to work.”

The thief tilted his head up and gave it a gentle shake, Rung could practically feel the pride radiating off of his patient. It was something he hoped to correct in the coming sessions. While that thought was mulling around in his processor, Rung took a quick look at the slate in his hands and moved on.

“Let’s move on to your ‘disorder’. Do you recall just what this need to harm yourself stemmed from? Was there something in particular that occurred in your past that initiated your desire?”

Kronus let his chin lower giving him a better view of the therapist situated just across from him.

“That’s a pretty loaded question there doc. But I’ll do my best.”

The orange mech offered his patient a slight smile followed up by a nod of understanding.

“That’s all I ask of you. And please take your time.”

“In all honesty doc, I was bored.”

The slight smile that had formed on the psychoanalyst’s face quickly faded. The revelation was not exactly what he expected. But of course the mech before him had a knack for drawing one in with his lies and then cutting them down. The low sigh from Rung seemed to echo throughout the room. He followed it up by a hand to his face.

“I can tell you’re not doin’ so hot there doc. What say we spice this meeting up a tad?”

Kronus took a quick look around the area and stopped when he noticed a table off to one side of the office. His optics lingered on the location as a broad smile formed just behind the face restraint. He had heard stories about some of the things that had occurred within these walls and now he wanted to hear them from the mech that had been present for all of them.

“I’ve heard tales about some of the things that have gone on in this particular office.”

He grew quiet, but only long enough for his attention to move from the table and back to the befuddled therapist.

“I’ve heard, through grapevine, that one of your patients; possibly two, have died right here in your office. Tell me, doctor, where they of your doing, or were they simply accidents?”

Rung’s eyebrows raised high while his optics brightened in surprise. This was entirely unexpected and he certainly had no desire to reveal anything concerning past or current patients. Realizing that his expression had probably given Kronus the answer he was looking for, Rung tried to swing the line of questioning back on track. A task easier said than done especially with a mech like Kronus.

“I’d like to talk about your ‘disorder’ and how it’s affected your life, past and present.”

From behind the restraint Kronus’s jovial smile melted into a deep frown. This skinny little nobody was turning this back on him, that is a no, no.

“No! You don’t get off that easily, doctor! I deserve to have my questions answered. I deserve to know whether or not the therapist I’m forced to see has killed anyone during past sessions! Now, ANSWER MY QUESTION!”

Rung flinched back slightly at the outburst. It was definitely something that had not happened before, not with this particular patient and not with anyone else. Still, he had no intention of revealing anything about any prior patients, even if they were now deactivated.

“I’m sorry, Kronus, but confidentiality holds during a patient’s stay and after they have left us. I cannot reveal any information pertaining to any of them, no matter what rumors you have heard. Now, let’s move on.”

Kronus leaned back in his chair, his back pressing deeply into the cushioned back. He grew quiet as he glared intently, possibly even through the mech sitting across from him. The action disturbed Rung and it showed as he fidgeted in his chair to find a more comfortable position. The thief was well known for not only self-cannibalism but he had also resorted to cannibalizing others on occasion. It wouldn’t have been hard to believe that Kronus had torn off a chunk of dermal plating from some unsuspecting mech and devoured it. He seemed to almost pride himself on the graphic violence which now ruled his life. Although Kronus was also extraordinarily personable. He was so unique, in fact, that he could easily hide who he really was. It was as though beneath his exterior there were two mechs residing within. As attested to by his previous outburst, Kronus could revert from a raving madman to the bot next door in no time flat.

“You asked me before if there was anything that brought on this desire. In response to that I’d have to say no. For as long as I can recall I’ve just…been like this. There’s no rhyme or reason, just a want. I like how it feels. I like how it tastes. I like the sounds when I tear off parts and devour them. And then there’s that moment when you know that the energon dripping off of your own chassis won’t have time to hit the ground because you’ve already greedily lapped it up. Nothing goes to waste and everything is still yours.”

The mech leaned forward, his elbows resting heavily on his knees.

“That’s why I do it, doc. Because it makes me feel good.”

Therapy was a tightrope… if you pushed too far to one side or the other you wind up careening down into a spiraling abyss, but if you gently guide the walker to his or her destination then you’ll likely see someone who is capable or rejoining society, and that is the greatest reward of any therapist’s career.

But this mech, this one would likely not see the outside world again. It wasn’t as if Rung thought he was incapable of performing such a feet, it was simply that Kronus belonged here.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Kronus. But let’s take things a bit further. I’d like you to tell me the purpose behind performing such an act on a stranger. Does cannibalizing others have the same effect as self-cannibalization, or is it entirely different?”

With his back still deeply imbedded in the rear cushion, Kronus turned his head up to the ceiling where he took to staring. He remained in that position for nearly a full breem before he finally decided to respond. He started in low.

“It’s a necessity. But not the kind that makes you go. It’s the kind that keeps you going. When you’re low on fuel and energon and recharge you wind up desperate. You’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to keep going just one more cycle.”

Kronus shut down his optics as he lowered his chin down. They remained offline even as he continued on.

“There were times when I wanted so badly to consume…to gorge on me, but there just wasn’t enough. And if there wasn’t enough then I had to be more. I had to make myself again and that took others. I partook in a great many delicacies and each one was finer than the last. Praxians, Vosians, Iaconians…and many others. But it never was as satisfying as myself. I wanted me. I needed me.”

He let out a heavy sigh before he onlined his optics. The deep ruby color reflected off every chromed and polished surface in the room. Rung watched carefully as his patient lifted a hand to the back of head and stopped. The gesture caused the therapist to stiffen in fear. He lowly cleared his throat and pointed to the restraint covering the mech’s face.

“That movement is probably not too wise. That restraint is there for two reasons…”

“Yeah, I know. Keeps me from ripping myself apart and it’s linked to my I/D chip. Mess with it and I literally lose my head. Don’t worry doc. I’ve no intention of going out with that kind of bang.”

Rung physically relaxed and leaned back in his chair. There had been some information missing from Kronus’ file, so gathering that would be helpful in his continued evaluations. Looking back to the data slate siting on the knee of his crossed leg, Rung asked his next question.

“There is no mention of it in your file, but when you arrived here word was passed that you…um…that you had killed someone. Is this true? And if so who was he or she and just how was the deed performed?”

A low deep chuckle started but steadily grew into a boisterous laugh. Rung wasn’t sure if it was coming from the small mech sitting across from him or both of the orderlies standing outside his door. However, just as soon as the laughter started it just as quickly came to a screeching halt leaving Rung completely dumbfounded. Had he said something to draw the ire of the mech in front of him? Was this the hidden bot within the bot?

“You were told I killed someone? Well, that’s just an outright lie.”

From the sound of the way Kronus mentioned that the source was wrong gave Rung some hope that maybe, just maybe this mech had a chance at recovery. That was until…

“I didn’t kill someone…I killed six some ones. Six unholy amoral slaglicking abominations. And if you ask me if I’d do it again I would say yes. A thousand times YES!”

“Six mechs. Were they all…er…eaten?”

Kronus shook his head slowly before looking back into Rung’s amber optics.

“No. Not all of them. Just one.”

There was a moment’s pause giving the mech time to think about just what he wished to reveal.

“I think that was the one time that I actually enjoyed feeding on someone other than myself. Oh, and he was certainly satisfying. You see, doc, when it comes to consuming others you have to start off small. At first a servo after that you can move on to something a bit larger. But me, I like to get into things, get things over and done as quickly as possible. So with this guy I wound up bludgeoning him until he fell unconscious then I went to work tearing out manifolds, ripping through plating until, at last, I reached the sweet chewy center.”

The description of just what had occurred was not what Rung had expected. He was actually hoping Kronus would be reluctant to share, but it turned out he was so very, very wrong. The slim therapist drew his legs up closer to the skirt of the chair and placed the data slate firmly against his chest.

“I remember that he came back online by then, you know, to see me tearing through his chest plates and his abdominal coverings. The look of sheer terror on his face when we came optic to optic… me dripping energon from the whole of my frame; the mouthful of his innards half devoured, it was enough for him to purge his tanks…if he still had them.”

Rung had hoped to Primus that this sick rendition was finally over, but to his dismay Kronus continued. But Rung did notice that his patient’s demeanor soured once more. His entire frame began to shake…not a lot but to someone with a well trained eye they could notice it. This mech was agitated and an agitated mech was a potential threat. Slowly Rung moved his right arm closer to his body and made ready to send an emergency signal to the guards outside his door.

The movement by the doctor did not go unnoticed by the demented mech, and when Kronus finally spoke up he did so in a calm even tone.

“Don’t even think about it, doc. You were the one who asked to hear all this. I’m just following through. So sit back, relax and let me finish.”

And there it was that calmness that had just overtaken him was gone. The composed mech was replaced by some twisted monstrosity that wore the same dermal plating as Kronus, but this was certainly not him.

“I was nearly finished with my meal when this revolting creature that lay before me actually spoke. I could barely believe it… he actually found the will power to speak. I thought right then and there that he deserved to live. But then something unfortunate occurred…the one word he said turned everything upside down. Do you know what he said to me, doctor? Do you know what he had the gall to ask?”

“No, I don’t Kronus. What did he say?”

He gave an irritated snort as he flopped back in the chair. It seemed as though the mere thought of the mech’s message disgusted his patient.

“He said ‘Please’. That fragged up trash sucking slaglicker had the nerve to want me to stop. That was the last straw. There was a length of high grade piping lying nearby and I picked it up. I watched his optics widen because he knew what was coming, and then I swung with everything I had; I kept swinging until his cranium was nothing more than a soft squishy pool of goo. And then I stood there…it must have been a few breems…just staring at the mangled mess that I had created, and I was…elated. I felt complete. I felt like I had taken care of me. For once in my life I was able to go too far and still function normally.”

The voice of his patient sounded far away. Serenity replaced any sign of hostility which brought a sense of relief to Rung. He didn’t want to have Kronus removed, their sessions were actually working. When the thief had first arrived he refused to speak, but eventually, with some gentle coaxing, he began to open up. This particular meeting had revealed he was ready for the next level…trust.

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, Kronus, but I believe you’ve made a very important step and perhaps when we meet again we can work on something new.”

The dreamy eyed thief eyed Rung casually before rising from his chair. By then the two hulking orderlies had been summoned into the room to collect the ward. Each mech took an arm and moved Kronus along. Without turning to look over his shoulder he addressed Rung.

“You know, doc, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to eating you. But not today, doc, not today.”

Creepy...