"Shadows of the Mind" (Dr. Crane backstory)

[aurora10]

That was unbelievable!!!!!!!! You rock, Azina!!! ;D

[azina]

Thank you so much. I'm glad you liked it.

[fosforito]

great chapter!

as it said before:

you rock!!

can´t wait to read more...

[azina]

(Oh, he was a delicious one, more Fear than I could have imagined, sweeter than I have tasted in a long time, Scarecrow whispered in Crane’s mind.)

Crane had long gotten used to the running dialogue that was Scarecrow’s. Most of the time it was an annoyance, usually petty wants, bullying and demands on Scarecrow’s part, but at the moment he was completely sated, glutted on the fear of his recent victim. Crane himself had to admit the victim was especially delicious. Beyond the tough veneer, Machiano proved to fear much just in his first taste of the Fear Toxin and that was at the lowest dosage. What would happen to him when Crane continued to up the dosage? Crane wondered and anticipated it with much delight

So did Scarecrow.

(When can I hear his screams again? He owes us his screams for all the pain he has inflicted on us and your mother!)

When he regains his strength, thought Crane. He is not ready yet, but when he is ready, he will make an apt patient and test subject, that is for sure.

(Always concerned about research, screamed Scarecrow. What about REVENGE?!!)

Crane was busy jotting down notes; Scarecrow busy with a litany of curses when Machiano slightly moaned. Crane’s cold blue eyes quickly shot up from the paper toward the restraint chair and slipped from his breast pocket a miniature flashlight.

That a boy, thought Crane. He’s even quick in the recovery too. Excellent! I couldn’t ask for a better test subject indeed!

Crane leaned close to Machiano, who still was half unconscious.

“Lift up your head, that’s it,” Crane ordered.

“Where – where am I,” Machiano asked, the words slurring. “What happened? Was I in an – an accident? I feel terrible!”

“Just relax. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you.”

Disorientation and temporary memory loss. Interesting side effects, but obviously no permanent damage to the brain and no impairment of judgement, thought Crane. If insanity is to be the goal of the Fear Toxin, this lower dosage is a failure.

Machiano still didn’t have his eyes opened, at least not fully; he just was barely holding his head up.

“Now hold you head still, just going to check on pupil dilation and your reflexes,” said Crane.

“Pupi- wha-?”

Maybe the toxin did damage the brain to some degree. No matter, thought Crane in delight.

Before Machiano knew what Crane was doing he seized Machiano’s left eyelids, pried them open and was shining a blinding light from his flashlight into his eye.

“What are you –”

“Pupil dilation is returning to normal. You are coming out of the effects of the drug nicely, Mr. Machiano. I am quite impressed.”

Machiano blinked, his groggy, stupid features slowly turning to realization and hatred.

“Wait, you’re – you’re that insane sh-t who – AHH!!”

Crane hit Machiano’s knee hard with a reflex tool to see what his response was, just to make sure he still had use of his extremities after the effect of the drug. His kick was a good indication not only everything was in good working order, he could feel pain very well. Crane smirked in great satisfaction.

“You sadistic bastard,” screamed Machiano.

“Sadistic? Would you like a taste of some of my other toxins? I have many, I assure you.”

Machiano’s angry, red face suddenly blanched.

“You – you have more than one?”

“Several really,” said Crane. “And you will have the great honor of trying them all if you continue acting in this antagonistic fashion.”

Machiano’s hands balled into fists, his gray eyes glaring piercingly in the sickening yellow light of the shadeless lamp.

“I can give you what you want – whatever you want,” said Machiano. “Money, power, women, anything! You know I’m connected with Falcone. I can give it to you.”

“That is not what I want, Mr. Machiano.”

“Then what do you want?!”

(I want your Fear, Scarecrow hissed in Crane’s mind.)

“Mr. Machiano, you’re my patient, so therefore I care about your well-being –”

“Then you’ll get me out of this chair!”

“I can’t do that. A patient as violent as you is a danger to himself and others. I cannot release you until I cure you.”

Crane allowed his words to sink into Machiano’s mind. He gazed at Crane as though he truly believed he was in the room with a madman and Crane to some degree relished it.

(Yes, let him Fear us, whispered Scarecrow. Let him Fear all the things we may do to him – all the horrors he imagines we may inflict upon him.)

“Cure? I don’t need a cure – especially not from the likes of someone as f-cking insane as you,” spat Machiano.

“You may think that, but I believe your victims would strongly disagree with your opinion on that matter. And be that as it may, I am determined that before you leave that you pose no threat to anyone, one way or another.”

“So you’re going to kill me, is that it,” said Machiano, his eyes steely cold.

“I never said that and that would be my last intention.”

“And what if I refuse? What if I fight you in my ‘cure’?”

A sly, cold smile crept across Crane’s lips.

“I would not suggest that, Mr. Machiano. You have seen what my toxin can do – what it does to the mind. I must warn you that was the lowest dose. I would hate for your mind to be damaged. But if that is your choice –”

“No! Please, I – I’ll cooperate in this ‘cure’ of yours. Just no more of this poison of yours.”

“That will depend entirely on you,” said Crane. “If you make any attempt at resistance, escape or violence, you know what I will resort to. But unlike you, Mr. Machiano, I am not entirely heartless, I do offer some warning.”

Crane slipped from his jacket the burlap mask and slowly unfolded it. Machiano vaguely remembered it and his laughter before the nightmare unfolded.

“If I am growing displeased with your behavior, I will remove this mask. As long as it remains out, Mr. Machiano, I would recommend that you prove yourself to be an exemplary patient; it would be unwise to prove otherwise … Once I put on this mask, Mr. Machiano, anything can happen, anything. All your worst fears, nameless terrors will be realized in an instant with one false step on your part. The toxin is near.”

Machiano broke into a cold sweat. He didn’t move a muscle in the restraint chair, though he was bound fast.

Ah, good, thought Crane. My little Pavlov Fear dog is buying it completely. As soon as he sees the Mask he will associate it with Fear and the terror of the toxin. The Mask will be a perfect intimidation tool. This will work out perfectly.

Crane smiled as he slipped the mask back into his jacket and folded his hands together. He was so eager to start on his little lab rat, picking apart his brain piece by piece until it completely lay bare before him.

“Now do you have any questions for me, Mr. Machiano?”

“Yes. When can I go to the bathroom?”

Damn! First question from the test subject has to be on such base matters as relieving himself! No matter.

“Very well, this will be a good demonstration on the new rule I have just set,” said Crane icily.

Crane plucked from his jacket the mask and removing his glasses, slipped it over his head. Almost instantly Scarecrow emerged from the shadows of his mind, ever growing in his consciousness until he was peering from his startling blue eyes from the ragged holes of the mask at his bound prey.

“Your worst fears will be realized under me if you try anything,” Scarecrow hissed.

Scarecrow snapped up a cold syringe from the table and roughly jabbed it into Machiano’s arm, injecting the clear fluid into him.

“What! What are you doing,” cried Machiano indignantly.

“Just a precaution,” whispered Scarecrow. “Now go and return quickly. I want to play – and soon.”

Scarecrow yanked the buckles loose and aimed his arm in Machiano’s face as he slowly moved out of the restraint chair. Machiano turned away from him, tentatively walking to the washroom and closing the door. When the washroom door opened again, Scarecrow gazed at Machiano, a hungry, predatory gleam in his icy blue eyes.

“Now back in the chair,” Scarecrow hissed. “We shall continue your ‘cure,’ shall we, as the good doctor said?”

Machiano stopped, his eyes briefly locking with Scarecrow’s before making a mad dash for the door.

“So predictable,” Scarecrow growled.

Scarecrow didn’t chase Machiano or spray the Fear Toxin at his fleeing victim. At the three minute mark from the time he was injected with the serum, Machiano’s eyes rolled back into his head just as his fingers were about to touch the door knob.

[fosforito]

whoaaa...this chapter´s great!!

azina said:

(Oh, he was a delicious one, more Fear than I could have imagined, sweeter than I have tasted in a long time, Scarecrow whispered in Crane’s mind.)

Crane had long gotten used to the running dialogue that was Scarecrow’s. Most of the time it was an annoyance, usually petty wants, bullying and demands on Scarecrow’s part, but at the moment he was completely sated, glutted on the fear of his recent victim. Crane himself had to admit the victim was especially delicious. Beyond the tough veneer, Machiano proved to fear much just in his first taste of the Fear Toxin and that was at the lowest dosage. What would happen to him when Crane continued to up the dosage? Crane wondered and anticipated it with much delight

So did Scarecrow.

(When can I hear his screams again? He owes us his screams for all the pain he has inflicted on us and your mother!)

When he regains his strength, thought Crane. He is not ready yet, but when he is ready, he will make an apt patient and test subject, that is for sure.

(Always concerned about research, screamed Scarecrow. What about REVENGE?!!)

Crane was busy jotting down notes; Scarecrow busy with a litany of curses when Machiano slightly moaned. Crane’s cold blue eyes quickly shot up from the paper toward the restraint chair and slipped from his breast pocket a miniature flashlight.

That a boy, thought Crane. He’s even quick in the recovery too. Excellent! I couldn’t ask for a better test subject indeed!

Crane leaned close to Machiano, who still was half unconscious.

“Lift up your head, that’s it,” Crane ordered.

“Where – where am I,” Machiano asked, the words slurring. “What happened? Was I in an – an accident? I feel terrible!”

“Just relax. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you.”

Disorientation and temporary memory loss. Interesting side effects, but obviously no permanent damage to the brain and no impairment of judgement, thought Crane. If insanity is to be the goal of the Fear Toxin, this lower dosage is a failure.

Machiano still didn’t have his eyes opened, at least not fully; he just was barely holding his head up.

“Now hold you head still, just going to check on pupil dilation and your reflexes,” said Crane.

“Pupi- wha-?”

Maybe the toxin did damage the brain to some degree. No matter, thought Crane in delight.

Before Machiano knew what Crane was doing he seized Machiano’s left eyelids, pried them open and was shining a blinding light from his flashlight into his eye.

“What are you –”

“Pupil dilation is returning to normal. You are coming out of the effects of the drug nicely, Mr. Machiano. I am quite impressed.”

Machiano blinked, his groggy, stupid features slowly turning to realization and hatred.

“Wait, you’re – you’re that insane sh-t who – AHH!!”

Crane hit Machiano’s knee hard with a reflex tool to see what his response was, just to make sure he still had use of his extremities after the effect of the drug. His kick was a good indication not only everything was in good working order, he could feel pain very well. Crane smirked in great satisfaction.

“You sadistic bastard,” screamed Machiano.

“Sadistic? Would you like a taste of some of my other toxins? I have many, I assure you.”

Machiano’s angry, red face suddenly blanched.

“You – you have more than one?”

“Several really,” said Crane. “And you will have the great honor of trying them all if you continue acting in this antagonistic fashion.”

Machiano’s hands balled into fists, his gray eyes glaring piercingly in the sickening yellow light of the shadeless lamp.

“I can give you what you want – whatever you want,” said Machiano. “Money, power, women, anything! You know I’m connected with Falcone. I can give it to you.”

“That is not what I want, Mr. Machiano.”

“Then what do you want?!”

(I want your Fear, Scarecrow hissed in Crane’s mind.)

“Mr. Machiano, you’re my patient, so therefore I care about your well-being –”

“Then you’ll get me out of this chair!”

“I can’t do that. A patient as violent as you is a danger to himself and others. I cannot release you until I cure you.”

Crane allowed his words to sink into Machiano’s mind. He gazed at Crane as though he truly believed he was in the room with a madman and Crane to some degree relished it.

(Yes, let him Fear us, whispered Scarecrow. Let him Fear all the things we may do to him – all the horrors he imagines we may inflict upon him.)

“Cure? I don’t need a cure – especially not from the likes of someone as f-cking insane as you,” spat Machiano.

“You may think that, but I believe your victims would strongly disagree with your opinion on that matter. And be that as it may, I am determined that before you leave that you pose no threat to anyone, one way or another.”

“So you’re going to kill me, is that it,” said Machiano, his eyes steely cold.

“I never said that and that would be my last intention.”

“And what if I refuse? What if I fight you in my ‘cure’?”

A sly, cold smile crept across Crane’s lips.

“I would not suggest that, Mr. Machiano. You have seen what my toxin can do – what it does to the mind. I must warn you that was the lowest dose. I would hate for your mind to be damaged. But if that is your choice –”

“No! Please, I – I’ll cooperate in this ‘cure’ of yours. Just no more of this poison of yours.”

“That will depend entirely on you,” said Crane. “If you make any attempt at resistance, escape or violence, you know what I will resort to. But unlike you, Mr. Machiano, I am not entirely heartless, I do offer some warning.”

Crane slipped from his jacket the burlap mask and slowly unfolded it. Machiano vaguely remembered it and his laughter before the nightmare unfolded.

“If I am growing displeased with your behavior, I will remove this mask. As long as it remains out, Mr. Machiano, I would recommend that you prove yourself to be an exemplary patient; it would be unwise to prove otherwise … Once I put on this mask, Mr. Machiano, anything can happen, anything. All your worst fears, nameless terrors will be realized in an instant with one false step on your part. The toxin is near.”

Machiano broke into a cold sweat. He didn’t move a muscle in the restraint chair, though he was bound fast.

Ah, good, thought Crane. My little Pavlov Fear dog is buying it completely. As soon as he sees the Mask he will associate it with Fear and the terror of the toxin. The Mask will be a perfect intimidation tool. This will work out perfectly.

Crane smiled as he slipped the mask back into his jacket and folded his hands together. He was so eager to start on his little lab rat, picking apart his brain piece by piece until it completely lay bare before him.

“Now do you have any questions for me, Mr. Machiano?”

“Yes. When can I go to the bathroom?”

damn! First question from the test subject has to be on such base matters as relieving himself! No matter.

“Very well, this will be a good demonstration on the new rule I have just set,” said Crane icily.

Crane plucked from his jacket the mask and removing his glasses, slipped it over his head. Almost instantly Scarecrow emerged from the shadows of his mind, ever growing in his consciousness until he was peering from his startling blue eyes from the ragged holes of the mask at his bound prey.

“Your worst fears will be realized under me if you try anything,” Scarecrow hissed.

Scarecrow snapped up a cold syringe from the table and roughly jabbed it into Machiano’s arm, injecting the clear fluid into him.

“What! What are you doing,” cried Machiano indignantly.

“Just a precaution,” whispered Scarecrow. “Now go and return quickly. I want to play – and soon.”

Scarecrow yanked the buckles loose and aimed his arm in Machiano’s face as he slowly moved out of the restraint chair. Machiano turned away from him, tentatively walking to the washroom and closing the door. When the washroom door opened again, Scarecrow gazed at Machiano, a hungry, predatory gleam in his icy blue eyes.

“Now back in the chair,” Scarecrow hissed. “We shall continue your ‘cure,’ shall we, as the good doctor said?”

Machiano stopped, his eyes briefly locking with Scarecrow’s before making a mad dash for the door.

“So predictable,” Scarecrow growled.

Scarecrow didn’t chase Machiano or spray the Fear Toxin at his fleeing victim. At the three minute mark from the time he was injected with the serum, Machiano’s eyes rolled back into his head just as his fingers were about to touch the door knob.

[Dr. J Crane]

OOhhhhh....Am I completely sadistic that I enjoyed that chapter so much??? But Machiano is scum! Any man who needs to attack a helpless lady to prove himself is scum!

Make him suffer, Azina....make him pay, please! Moms should not be messed with!

[azina]

Machiano vaguely felt pain as he fell roughly to the floor. He heard the harsh laughter of Scarecrow and then a burning sensation in his lungs. His heart raced and his eyes fluttered opened to see his vision distorted. The walls seemed to breathe in and out, and as the hideous monster once again loomed close, the disgusting maggots that crawled all over his face dropped upon him and crawled on his skin.

What is rotten inside stays rotten.

Machiano’s eyes shot open. He desperately tried brushing away the writhing maggots, which seemed intent on crawling under his clothes, burrowing into his skin.

They always seek what is rotten on the inside.

The filthy maggots grew sharp teeth and latched fast to his skin, and slid like so many tunneling worms inside him. Machiano screamed, clawing the filthy, dusty floor. The pain was terrible, feeling their tiny teeth tearing through muscle, burrowing deep, deep through every nerve and tissue.

“Make them stop! Please make them stop,” Machiano begged the gloating monster.

They go to the rotten core.

Machiano fell on his back, feverish, staring glaze-eyed at the ceiling. The monster seemed to be gone and he no longer could feel the pain and the presence of the worming maggots.

Thank God they’re gone, thought Machiano. Thank God.

“Please! For the love of God, let me go!”

Suddenly Machiano saw the face of Veronica Kestrel. Her face was wet with tears mingled with her blood, the blood after he beat her. She was pleading for him to finally release her after they were nearing the end of her week in hell … his week of pleasure. Machiano smiled at the memory.

"No, my dear, you might tell the police all the wonderful things I did to you. I can’t have you doing that, now can I,” Machiano said.

He shot her while she lay bound in the bed, once, twice, three times. A pool of blood soaked the white sheets red.

Too bad, she was a fun one, Machiano thought.

Suddenly the vision faded and he was back in the filthy room and the monster was looming over him.

“What did you see, tell me,” demanded the monster, grabbing Machiano by the neck, his claws fiercely digging into his flesh.

“Ver- Veronica,” Machiano gasped, before he realized what he was saying.

“Good,” hissed the monster. “Now reveal your fears to me – your darkest fears.”

Machiano stared in blank horror at the monster covered in those hideous carnivorous maggots, looming so close to his face.

Oh, God, please don’t let them eat my face, Machiano thought.

“What did you see,” demanded the monster.

“Death – blood. I – I killed.”

“With these hands – yes?”

The monster grabbed Machiano’s hands fiercely with its black claws and pried them open. To Machiano’s horror he saw a pool of blood steadily forming in them and spreading, moving up his arm, soaking his clothing wet with its putrid stickiness.

“You killed that innocent woman. You have hurt so many,” growled the monster.

“She – she would have told the police – I had to.”

“LIAR!! If you do not tell me the truth, I will rip it from you,” the monster screamed. “Now I wonder which method would work best.”

The monster was just inches from him and the maggots continued to drop on his clothing wet with blood, which itched and burned against his skin like fire. In his peripheral vision he could see ghostly faces gazing at him, past victims, some dead, some of them women he had raped, gazing at him with their eyes full of hatred. Machiano dared look at them for an instant and saw they were steadily creeping toward him, step by step, their hands gripping some ghastly instrument of torture. Veronica in particular was in the forefront, a cruel smile on her lips, a butcher’s hook gripped firmly in her hand.

“No! No, please make them stop,” Machiano begged. “I – I’ll do anything you want.”

“We’re already beyond that point,” hissed the monster. “Now it’s your screams I want and you owe me your pain!”

“No! No! Please no! Mercy!”

At the word “mercy” the monster laughed such a cruel and amused laugh it made Machiano shudder in that twisting, unraveling nightmare.

“Your deepest fear must be in here somewhere, let’s open up your mind at find out,” the monster laughed.

“No!”

The monster grabbed hold of Machiano’s head and dug into his skull, cracking it viciously open like a walnut. Machiano screamed, streams of blood dripping into his line of vision as he felt the monster tear into his naked mind.


“That’s interesting, Mr. Machiano. Why don’t you tell me a little bit more about your childhood.”

Machiano gasped, all his muscles twitching, his skin damp and pale. Wildly he looked around room, which was pale and depressing in the early morning sunlight. The lunatic who sat opposite him was busy writing notes. Crane no longer wore the burlap mask and wasn’t speaking in that wild, demanding voice he adopted when his madness took over. Machiano looked down and saw he was bound once again in the restraint chair. He also saw whatever drug or poison that madman had given him must have made him hallucinate; he was not covered in blood. He felt a warm wetness on his cheeks.

Oh, God, have I been crying and that pathetic, sadistic sh-t saw me. Oh, he must have loved that!

“How – how long was I out,” Machiano gasped.

Crane looked up from his notes.

“You were unconscious for scarcely an hour, but you have been talking with me for three hours. Our therapy session has been a great success. This new medication I have put you on seems to have benefited you considerably.”

Medication?! What drugs did you give me!

“What did I tell you,” Machiano asked.

“I’ve been getting some of the basics I ask all my new patients,” said Crane. “Mostly I’ve been getting some of your background and family history. Yours is quite fascinating and I must say your pursuit in crime is unusual given your loving family life and the high socio-economic income of your parents.”

“I told you that? Well, I was just bullsh-tting you, affects of the drug, y’know.”

“Actually, you were quite truthful under the medication … What you just told me is a lie,” Crane said coldly. “You see, Mr. Machiano, I do some background research on all my patients before I take them on. Maybe it’s time to give you your next dosage if this is how you will respond to my questions.”

Machiano, you idiot! He’s a sly one and if you don’t play it right you’ll end up dead! Give him some truth just to tie him over, buy you some time, make him let down his guard enough so you can escape!

“No. I’ll tell you anything you want,” Machiano said. “After all, you are my doctor.”

“Good, I’m glad you realize I’m just trying to help you,” Crane said, with a slight smile.

[Dr. J Crane]

Azina, the imagery in this chapter is BRILLIANT!!!

I was IN THE CELL, with Crane as he made Machiano confess. I could see the dark dingy room in the asylum, and see the terror in his face!!

This chapter, in terms of its descriptive prose - is amazing. Your best work so far, just for how vivid the images are!

[fosforito]

whoaaaa Azina, this was a great chapter!!!

And your detailed description especially with the maggots...whhaaa!

As I said before - let him suffer. let him suffer.

Go ahaed - Jon!

Please post soon again!!

[§hannon]

You're such an amazing writer, Azina.
As J. Crane said, your imagery is brilliant to the point that I can't even describe it.

Anybody that hasn't read your writing, really should, considering it's one of the best fanfics I've ever read (and you know I'm not a Crane fan). Hahah.

Keep writing, m'dear. <3

[seonedevinian]

Azina, brilliant imagery. that maggot and blood hallucination was disgusting. in a good way. wow, awesome! so cool, and i love the Scarecrow here, so demanding. Machiano will pay.

[azina]

Here's the next part. The cat and mouth game continues ...

Machiano ground his teeth, every fiber of his being revolted at submitting to this lunatic he easily could crush beneath his boot if he was freed of the restraint chair. A hundred different ways flashed through his mind, many different slow, torturous methods of death he could inflict on this self-pretentious weakling who hid behind that poison and the strength of this infernal chair.

He’s a coward. Nothing but a f-cking coward, Machiano thought.

“So tell me, Mr. Machiano, before these attacks began you were in normal romantic and sexual relationships, isn’t that correct?”

“Weren’t we talking about my childhood,” Machiano grumbled.

“Just as background; I have enough of that,” Crane said. “Now I’m moving on to your adult psyche. Jennifer Falcone, is she a relation to Carmine Falcone by any chance?”

“Yeah, she’s his niece.”

“And yet you dated her – even were in a lengthy relationship with her.” Crane gazed at him with great interest. “Tell me a bit more about her.”

“There is nothing to tell. We hit it off. End of story.”

“Oh, I think there is more to it than that.”

Crane’s piercing blue eyes burrowed into him, but Machiano turned his gaze away, stubbornly grinding his fingernails into the wooden armrests of the chair.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk . . . Would you like to see my mask?”

"No!"

Machiano was startled by the suddenness even of his own response. He hated how desperate he sounded.

“I mean – I’ll talk,” Machiano said grudgingly. “Jennifer Falcone, yeah, we dated. Originally I hated it.”

“Hated it? And why is that?”

“Jennifer Falcone recently broke up and Carmine, he wanted her to attend his latest function with the rich and powerful. None of his common thugs would do so – so he ordered me to keep her entertained.”

Dammit! Are you an idiot! Why are you telling him everything? Just give him a crumb of truth, not the whole damn cake!! SHUT UP!!

Crane seemed even more fascinated with this new piece of information. He made a special note of it on his pad with his gold pen, then gazed at him, his face a mask, unreadable and unsettling.

“Tell me, Mr. Machiano, how did this initial ‘arrangement’ make you feel?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything. I had a job to do.”

“No, you’re not being truthful again. How did she treat you? Was she happy with what her uncle did, arranging this date?”

“She was f-cking pissed.”

“And I’m sure she took that aggression out on you.”

Machiano was quiet a moment, not know what to say or even what this lunatic was expecting.

“She was angry at first, but she warmed up to me, like all the ladies do,” Machiano finally said slyly.

“She may have ‘warmed to you,’ as you say,” said Crane. “But she didn’t remain that way, did she, Mr. Machiano? She eventually left you for another man.”

Machiano bit down on his tongue to keep from hissing.

“Tell me then, Mr. Machiano, what happened next? As niece of Falcone you couldn’t beat her or harm her in any way when your attempts at getting her back proved futile.”

SHUT UP YOU PATHETIC LITTLE SH-T!!

Machiano dug his nails deep into the wood, scratching, scratching, wishing it was that maniac’s throat he was tearing to bloody shreds.

“Soon after she broke up with you,” continued Crane. “Records show your first attack on a woman occurred. Her looks are surprisingly like Jennifer Falcone. Do you wish to comment on this?”

“Since when did this ‘therapy session’ turn into an interrogation, doc,” Machiano spat.

Crane pursed his lips and slipped his hand into his suit jacket. For a tense moment Machiano thought he would remove the mask to warn him, but obviously Crane thought of taking a different approach. He didn’t remove the mask, but instead put away the pen and notepad.

“Therapy session is at an end. Clearly I have exhausted you and doctor as well as patient can benefit from a break here and there. Could I interest you in a refreshment?”

Machiano perked up at this. Maybe he would temporarily release his hands from the restraint chair just to eat and then would be an opportunity. Quickly he nodded at the doctor and Crane faintly smiled as he left and returned with a bottle of water, a carton of milk, a bowl, spoon and a box of Cheerios on a tray.

“I hope you like cereal for breakfast. Unfortunately this apartment is not as well stocked as I would like,” Crane said.

As he shook the cereal into the bowl and poured the milk, Machiano began to eagerly twist at the wrist restraints. When the tension and silence between them became too much Machiano finally asked:

“Well?”

Crane looked up with those icy blue eyes.

“‘Well’ what, Mr. Machiano?”

“Aren’t you going to undo these damn things so I can eat?!”

“Oh, no, Mr. Machiano. That is still too dangerous. We shall do this the Arkham way.”

Machiano stopped his struggling at the name “Arkham.” Where had he heard that name before? He had heard it recently, but couldn’t place where.

“Now, Mr. Machiano, open wide.”

Suddenly his attention returned to the lunatic sitting opposite him. That cold, emotionless creature was holding a spoon of dripping cereal up to him like mother trying to feed a toddler.

“You’ve got to be sh-tting me,” Machiano cried. “Let me feed myself!”

“I can’t release you from the chair. You are still far too dangerous. However, I am not so cruel to let a patient of mine go thirsty and hungry – unless you choose to do so out of pride.”

Machiano gazed at the dripping spoon of cereal. Suddenly he felt very dizzy with hunger.

I swear I’m going to kill the bastard in the worst way possible!

Machiano closed his eyes and felt the cool spoon and mushy cereal enter his mouth.

[Dr. J Crane]

It's amazing how with the simple act of "spoon-feeding" Crane can humble this guy sooo much...it's so much humiliation!

Azina, I get the feeling you have been doing more than letting Crane scare this guy in the last couple of chapters - you are making Machiano angry! Crane keeps him restrained, tied down and all Snake can think is the violence.

Something tells me that violence is about to explode pretty soon - and I WANT to be there when it does!!!

* oooohhhhhh ffuuuuunnnn!!!!***

I know you are super busy, but please don't keep us in suspense this long!!! I really want to see the explosion..

[azina]

You're very astute. Something big will happen and soon. I hope to write it out tonight if I can get my homework done early. Yeah, Machiano is getting really pissed.

[Dr. J Crane]

Thanks, Azina. It's good to know I am reading the story right.

BTW - I will repeat this - your imagery is very powerful. When you write about Machiano's anger, it is very easy to see it. It's like you're in the room, this silent fly on the wall, watching Crane as he inflicts terror on the mind of (for once) a totally deserving "victim"