A/N: I've realized that keeping the character's personalities has pretty much gotten away from me altogether, so I apologize for some inaccuracies when it comes to that. Props go to Akili-Chan for giving me the idea to writing about "Mrs. Dread."

Chapter 9

John Dread put the chess piece he had been pondering back down on the board as he heard a metallic sounding knock on his door. He turned away from the window, sat down in his chair and sighed. "Come in, Psycho."

Dread didn't feel like dealing with his henchman at this particular moment. For one thing, he had been brooding, and whenever interrupted, he was not happy about it. For another thing, Psycho was always very...uppity every time he was fixed. Supposedly it was some sort of painkiller they gave him. Dread didn't believe a word of it, but he put up with his colleague, just in case. However, today the cyborg was walking on thin ice. Or rather stomping on it.

"I've gotten a little lose in the whole family tree business here. Now, who's running the show, you or the girl?"

John Dread stood up. He knew where this was going, and he did not wish to venture into that territory. "The girl's name is Abigail, and she is your superior. By far. Let me first make that clear. Secondly, I am running the show, as you call it, and training Abigail to replace me upon my retirement, so as of now, she is my, co-pilot, shall we say."

"Well then, maybe we should come up with a name pretty enough to match hers? Hmmm?"

Dread shook his head and turned away. He was NOT in the mood for this!

Psycho continued his little rant. "Let's think of a nice girly name for Abigail's puppy dog. Tracy? Emily? Brittany?"

"Stop."

"Maybe something longer, more sophisticated, yes, that would be more like you, wouldn't it."

The older man felt like banging his head against the wall. Where was Abigail anyway? If she had been around, he might have allowed her to have some fun with Psycho.

"Valerie? Victoria? Veron-ARGH!!!"

Psycho's list had been cut short by his employer as the latter spun around and slammed the former into a wall of filing cabinets.

"What the-?" Psycho tried to free himself, but found that he was effectively pinned to the metal wall behind him.

"Out."

Psycho ran towards the door, and had to duck the visitor's chair that came flying after him. Not used to running so low, he tripped and stumbled, landing flat on his face, and the chair hit the corridor wall and broke into several pieces. A button rolled past Psycho's face. "What the hell was that?" he wondered, amazed. The whole time he had worked for DREDD, he had never witnessed the leader of the organization use force on...anyone.

A woman in a lab coat walked past. Psycho recognized her as Scientist 378, the one in charge of his 'repairs'. "Veronica was the name of his wife."

"Huh?!" Psycho scrambled up off the floor and ran off the woman, who was walking quite briskly. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

Not seeming the least bit surprised, she swatted his hands off her shoulders and adjusted her spotless coat.

"Was? What do you mean was?"

"Well, you don't see her anywhere, do you?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well, where is she?"

"Not here."

"I KNOW NOT HERE!" he raged, some uniformed henchmen heading his way turned and ran the other way. Psycho had been known to use his inferiors as target practice.

"She's dead."

"Dead?" Psycho echoed her.

"Yes. She worked as a scientist here and was involved in some ground-breaking studies that are still under development today. She was brilliant, but one night she got careless. She didn't bother with proper safety precautions. We are always reminded to remember with all safety precautions."

Psycho waited for her to say more, but she didn't. "And...?"

The scientist looked him straight in the eye. "It only takes one mistake to give something deadly a chance to begin developing."

Psycho knew he was treading into dangerous territory, but he was not known for his patience, especially when it came to his curiosity. "What kind of something deadly?"

"An out of control growth of cells, more commonly known as cancer. No one realized something was wrong until it was too late. Veronica died at age 34 of a brain tumor, on the first birthday of her only daughter. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I have said enough."

Taking Psycho's stunned silence as an answer, she walked away and had disappeared around a corner by the time he snapped out of it. He slumped against the wall, and sat down there in the hallway. Despite minor spats here and there, he had always had a pretty good relationship with his employer. How am I going to fix this one? he wondered. "I screwed up big this time. Real big." At this moment his mind flickered, working faster than usual, which wasn't really fast to begin with.

The former Fred Erickson jumped up and ran down the hallway. "WERE YOU EAVESDROPPING?!!!"