"What the.....?" As Vic entered the interrogation room, he found it empty, save for Dutch, who was seated at the table, and seemed to be drenched in sweat, serving to amplify the fact that the Barn's air conditioning system was on the fritz.

Vic was not taken aback so much by the fact that Dutch was in here alone as by what he saw in Dutch's left hand- a large butcher knife, it's cold steel blade reflecting a deadly glow from the overhead fluorescent lights. "Dutch? What the hell are you doing?" Vic asked in a confused tone.

"Vic......I'm glad you're here......you're just in time..." Dutch replied in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. The puzzled expression wrestling with Vic's own grimy countenance was further set into motion when he noticed the long cuts on Dutch's right arm, which were silently oozing blood down either side and onto the metal table. Seeing that Vic had noticed this, a dark laugh, again in an eerie, non-Dutch voice, issued from the other man's throat, startling Vic.

"What's the matter, Vic? Never seen a man bleed before?" the dark voice asked; Dutch's gaze then fell to the bleeding cuts on his arm, and a grin slowly spread across his sweat-drenched face. "Beautiful, isn't it? I could just sit here, and watch myself bleed for hours...that's why I love to go to crime scenes...so much blood everywhere....I always find myself wishing I could stay there longer just so I can sit and stare at it...run my fingers through it ....don't look so surprised, Vic-- it's not the first time I've cut myself on purpose....that crimson color is just so relaxing...." At this point, he dipped the tip of his left index finger into the small pool of blood that had started to form on one side of the injured arm, and then placed the finger into his mouth, sucking the blood off of it, an action that caused Vic to grimace.

"Dutch....you sure you're feeling okay? Y'know, I think maybe this heat wave we've been having in the Barn is getting to you......"

"I'm fine, Vic........never felt better......" Dutch replied calmly; Vic noticed that Dutch's attention span was now focused entirely on the knife, as he was holding it in front of him, seemingly mesmerized by the icy glare of the blade. He was now slowly tracing the razor-sharp edge with his fingertips, and Vic noted that Dutch didn't even flinch when the knife responded to his touch by slicing those same fingers open. Adding to Vic's stunned surprise, upon the fingers being cut, Dutch suddenly spoke to the knife itself: "Oh, come now......is that the best you can do? You're not gonna hurt me, you know.......you can go alot deeper than that, now, can't you? After all, I took all that time to sharpen you for a reason...." Pausing abruptly, he slowly turned his gaze back to Vic, as if suddenly remembering he wasn't alone in the room.

"No respect......I guess I should be used to that by now, huh? But don't feel bad for me.......besides, I may have had my last shred of dignity stripped from me by those wetback bastards, but it's okay....pretty soon, it'll all be okay......" he continued, having refocused on the knife.

"C'mon, Dutch..........give me the knife......"

"Oh, now, I couldn't do that........."

"Yes you can.........c'mon....put the knife down....." To this, Dutch responded with yet another dark laugh.

"You've gotta be shittin' me," he replied, suddenly sounding, if only for a moment, like himself. "You really think that you're gonna change my mind.....that I'm gonna bow down to you just because you're Vic Mackey, leader of the big, bad Strike Team........sorry, but you're a bit too late for that....." Upon hearing the beginning of this statement, Vic's horrible suspicion was confirmed.

"C'mon, Dutch.......this isn't the answer........look, what happened to you was really awful- we both know that-- but those guys are locked up in Pelican Bay right now.......they can't hurt you anymore.......don't do this........" Suddenly, Dutch laughed, and slowly shook his head.

"Listen to you....... 'what happened was really awful'........yeah, it was.......but you know what? It's been a goddamned month now......" Just then, still holding onto the knife, Dutch quickly undid his pants, and pulled them, along with his underwear, down to the floor. "You see this?" Dutch growled, pointing to his genitals, which were still slightly swollen, and still bruised. "A whole fucking month later, and I still have trouble taking a piss.......and just so you know, Kim left me because of this......" he continued, the knife now trembling in his hand. "That's right.........thanks to those greasy bastards and their fuckin' steel-toed boots, I haven't been able to take a decent piss in a month, and I haven't been able to provide for my girlfriend, either.....so she left me......." He then pulled his pants back up, and redid them; seeing a possible opportunity to grab the knife from him, Vic began to move, but was immediately stopped in his tracks by Dutch, who had noticed Vic's sudden movement, and had brandished the knife in response.

"I hope you weren't thinking of taking my new toy away from me, now were you, Vic?"

"N...no....of course not......" Vic replied, slowly backing up. "Look, Dutch.......I'm really sorry about you and Kim......"

"Oh, are you? .............you didn't even know we were engaged, did you? But then this happens.........just goes to show you what a whole month of not getting fucked will do to a woman.......and she said she was gonna stick by me no matter what had happened......that fuckin' lying bitch.......did she ever stop to think of what I've been going through? No blow jobs for ol' Dutchboy.......I can't even fucking whack off if I wanted to ........you know what that feels like Vic? Needing to come so bad you can't stand it, and then being reminded when you go to grab your cock that it's throbbing for another reason?"

"Dutch...I..."

"You have no idea...." Dutch growled through clenched teeth. Pausing momentarily, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath; his eyes re-opened to focus on Vic. "Don't worry.....it's just like I told you....everything's gonna be okay for poor little Dutchboy...." Suddenly, before Vic had a chance to react, Dutch had turned the knife on himself, and plunged it deep into his chest up to the handle.

In the next instant, Vic found himself breathing heavily, and sitting bolt upright in his bed, soaked to the bone in a cold sweat. "Holy shit," he murmured, swallowing hard as the image of Dutch stabbing himself bounced around in his mind.