A note concerning psychotic breaks

“Let me ask you a question, lieutenant: Do you think I’m crazy?” Omni-directional lighting blasted all traces of shadow from the steel room. Arkham sat down on the corner of the table and brought his face closer to Lt. Rex’s by leaning forward. “I’m not, you know, but Command thinks I am. Psychotic break from reality they say. Totally not true, though. Just ask Mr. Nod.” Arkham gestured to an empty corner. “Post traumatic stress they say. Plane I was on went down a month or so ago. Uncharted territory, everyone else died except for Mr. Nod and me. Well, Mr. Nod wasn’t part of our group, he found me later. Saved my life.” Arkham stood up and walked around the table while he spoke. He headed over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water. “Water Lieutenant? No? That’s all right. You know, I could get you a more comfortable seat, even a change of clothes if you’d just co-operate and answer our questions.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Rex pressed his back to the chair and continued to work his right hand against the cuffs. A few more minutes of work and he could likely get the hand free without losing too much skin.

“Yes, we’re well aware of your current position on co-operation.” Arkham sipped from his glass. “Ok, I’ve got another question,” Arkham set his glass down, “have you ever seen an eye like this?” He removed his visor and gestured to his left eye. The iris was a bright golden color and highly reflective. “It changed into this at some point after the crash but before I was found. Mr. Nod says it’s a good omen, Command thinks it’s a traumatic mutation. Silly theory, eh? As if high stress could induce a physiological change of this type.” Arkham drew his left arm across his chest and tucked his hand under his right elbow. He tapped the visor he held in his right hand against his temple. “They think I’ve cracked under the stress of my ordeal. I know what you’re thinking, ‘if he’s broken then why hasn’t he been discharged?’ Well, Lieutenant, it’s because I’m very good at my job. And my job, as you may have surmised, is getting people to co-operate that may not be inclined to do so.” He moved over to a cabinet set against the wall. Using a key from his belt, Arkham removed the lock and opened the doors. Rows of glittering tools filled the interior. Based on the contents alone, it would be difficult to tell if the cabinet belonged in a machinist’s workshop or a surgical suite. “I’ve never really enjoyed my job Lieutenant. At times it can even be quite tedious.” Rex continued to focus on Arkham and did his best to make his struggle against his bonds as surreptitious as possible. “Mind you, I still get it done. Fortunately for both of us, with the arrival of Mr. Nod I find that I have an alternative. You see, Mr. Nod is very good at bringing people around to my point of view. It makes my job so much easier. So, why don’t you talk things over with him, see if you don’t change your mind.” Arkham reached the door with a few long strides, but paused and turned back to look at Lt. Rex. “Don’t try anything silly, Lieutenant, I’ll be watching.” He tapped the skin under his golden eye. The eye seemed to grow impossibly bright and a tingle rushed across Rex’s skin. Something smelled like it was burning. The recorder on the table leaked thin tendrils of acrid smoke. Rex also noticed that the telltales on the video cameras had all shut off. “Take your time Mr. Nod.” Arkham left the room and shut the door behind him with the faintest of clicks.

“It’s now or never,” thought Rex. He compressed the bones in his right hand and jerked hard against the cuffs. His hand made it halfway out. He flinched against the popping sound and tried to work some of the blood from his freshly torn skin between the cuff and his hand. A second tug freed his hand. He stood and looked around the room. His eyes alighted on the cabinet and he headed over to search for a weapon. The door swung shut when he was halfway there. Rex thought he could make out motion from the corner of his eye, but couldn’t see anyone else in the room. He took another step towards the cabinet and was knocked clear across the room by an unseen blow. His vision blurred when his head hit the wall. He sagged forward onto his knees and could make out a fuzzy outline of something coming towards him. There was something else in the room. Panic seized his chest and made his breathing erratic. His fingernails scraped against the steel floor as he tried to push back through the wall. The lock was clicked into place on the tool cabinet. Lieutenant Rex screamed.

Mr. Nod didn’t need any tools and, unlike Arkham, very much enjoyed his work.