Here we go again.
The time Kaiser had spend upon TSR's compound had spanned the greater portion of his lifetime. Hence by now, he had come to have a significantly massive understanding of the schedule planned out by the agents. It was just like those shitty pop songs that people seemed to like so much when he had been taken in. It was sickeningly repetative, frighteningly predictable, and duller than an old knife left unattended. Most down pat in his regime from day to day were these 'venting sessions'. They'd take him into this room, with this same old Russian-American, who would ask him the same questions that he had the week before. This would begin a conversation of such a nature:
"How have you been," the Russian would ask him. To this, he'd answer with an unconvincing "fine." The psychoanalyst would then shake his head, and move on anyways.
He'd proceed on to ask, "How have you been getting along with others here?" By others, of course, he meant the guards, not the other kids. He wasn't allowed to see any of them unless it was during a fire drill. Again, Kaiser would bluntly state that things were "alright." And agian, the psychologist would shake his head in frustration, and continue on with the talking regardless of his dissatisfaction.
From there, he'd ask what Kaiser got up to in his spare time, when not being worked with by the TSR staff. To this, he'd give one last bland answer: "Stuff."
"How are you today, Kaiser?" the Russian pshycologist asked.
"Fine," Kai stated.
Shaking his head, the pshycologist proceeded nonetheless. "How have you been getting along with others?"
"Alright."
"And what have you been doing in your off-"
From somewhere, the sound of blaring alarms shot trhough the halls outside of the room, prompting the pshychologist to remove himself from his seat. Beckoning for Kaiser to follow in his shadow, he proceeded unto the door, only to be met by the disconfirming words of the armed guards outside. "Not to worry sir," one said through the mailslot opening, "There's just been a minor attempt at break out. Jim and I are gonna go and keep things in order with the recapture. You can stay in here with the subject." The Russian nodded in affirmity, stating his adherence and turning back to face the teen behind him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get back in your damn seat!"
"No."
"Excuse me, young man, but did you just defy MY authority?"
"You've no more authority over me than the police back home did, ou washed up hack."
"... I think you'd ought to be a little more courteous to the man who is only trying to help you understand yourself." The Russian walked closer to the table, snatching himself a stance next to Kai, leaning down, literally talking into his ears. "We here at TSR have put EVERYTHING on the line for you bastard children, and none of you have shown us ANY respect along the way. How are we thanked for our efforts? You try to break out! You destroy our property in the process, and the lot of you kill off at least a guard a week trying to get out. And what have we done to deserve this? YOU are OURS. OUR responsibility. Understood?"
"You've not but turned us into animals. No more are we here than the monkeys, whom get put through such experimentation. I bet those guards can't wait for the day you try and f*ck your way into their heads."
"I will NOT be having my profession satirized!" The Russian's face was already turned into a brilliant shade of blood red. Weeks of Kaiser's blunt answers, and unappeasing nature had slowly chipped away at his patience. The afront to his field of work had been the final push, that made him want to kill his own patient. But he would never lay hands upon the boy. Before anything more could register to him, his head was smashed against the table. As soon as it had hit, he ws pulled up by the collar, only to be smashed back down against the hard metal of which it was made. After three blows of bone against metal, the psychologist was felled, out cold, and bordering on death.
Hands cuffed together, Kai bolted for the door way, sliding over the small table and carelessly throwing the steel door open The clang of the door hitting against the concrete surface of the walls. There were no guards left to come to stop him now, and those that were nearby would not have heard the noise. The path was set, and open now. He could do it...
