Chapter 2: Conversations Between Walls of Fire

"I'll give you a signal if he tries something," I stared at Kasady's cell through the double-sided mirror, leaning against the table in the small room jammed with security personnel and three other doctors.

"What would turning off audio for security accomplish, George? What on Earth would be good enough to risk a flaw in safety when it comes to Carnage? Carnage, for Christ's sake! Don't you know what he's capable of?" he was in my face now, Dr. Orcott, a doctor slightly higher in rank. He was in charge of The Vault's left wing.

"Kasady's told me that switching doctors like this happens too often. If it's just a routine with him, I won't make any progress. I need to know stuff no one else has been told. I think maybe I could be the one Kasady confides in finally."

"God help you," a faceless voice muttered in the back.

It's been two months and the sessions have begun to get interesting. I've tossed to normal questions to the wind because I've found out that if I ask something that sounds too professional he'll just change the subject, asking a question about myself completely off topic. To his delight then, I would blurt out my underwear preferences. That did get a very good rise out of him. Questions even slightly sexual or violent always got the best reactions. He would leap to his feet and demonstrate sometimes the way he was double-jointed in his arm, allowing him to bend in into a disgustingly unnatural position.

Once, he told me all about his philosophy on laws and freedom and why he calls himself Carnage. That took three days, six hours until he had told me all he wanted to. He became spirited and violent during those hours, but no harm had been done.

Not once have I seen him in that costume, though. I've never seen the alien symbiote free. That would soon change.

"Doc! Couldn't stay away from me for long, couldja'?" he grinned and stood from his seat on the bed in an uncharacteristically gentleman attempt.

"On the contrary, Mr. Kasady, I dread every moment I have to spend with you," I spoke with a gentle, condescending tone. Insults were a form of greeting in his world. I simply catered to it.

"Call me Clete, Baby-cakes. How many times do I hafta' tell you that formalities are all lost on me?" his arms reached out in a swooping gesture.

"You don't have to tell me at all. I can spot you pig-headed, trash-talking, unmannered types a mile away."

I got really close to the firewall. He closed the distance between and stared down at me, "Sleep well, Doc?"

I noticed something I hadn't before. As close as I was, I could see his eyes clearly. The records said they were green. They were green before. Not now, though. That was the peculiar thing. Now, they were black, and if I looked very carefully, I would be able to see the red running like rain across the pupils. It was hypnotic…

"I slept fine, thank you…" I didn't move. I found that I couldn't do much but breathe.

His right hand rose and flattened, the palm of his hand skimming the air in front of the firewall, "You're in dangerous a proximity, Doc. I could reach out through the wall and grab you if I really wanted to…"

"Your hand would burn and you'd fry."

"Yeah, but I still could if I wanted to bad enough."

"What's stopping you then? The knowledge that you'd be hurt?"

He paused as if hesitating, "…Yeah."

No, that wasn't it. We both knew that wasn't it, but the difference was that he knew the real reason and I didn't.

I took a step back from the wall and sat in my chair, clipboard in my lap, and crossed my legs, "Today's session's audio will not be recorded. Right now, no one can hear a thing we say except for me and you."

He did the same, sitting back down on the edge of his bed, "What's the occasion?"

"Well, I want you to know that if you have anything to tell me that you don't want anyone else to ever know, now is the time to do it. I don't think they'll let me do this again."

He was silent for a long time. I could see he was thinking from the way his eyes had glazed and fixed onto the floor and onto nothing in particular. Finally, he raised his head and glanced over at me.

"Get yourself transferred to Ravencroft."

I blinked, startled at the dangerous tone of his voice. He was every bit serious.

"What? Why?"

"Just do as I say. Make up some lie that you can't handle me anymore and have yourself transferred as soon as possible."

"Well, Cletus, I can't just leave my life behind, pack up, and go to New York!"

"Yes you can. You hardly have a life here anyways, unless you call sitting in your apartment alone on a Saturday night eating peanut butter from the jar with your finger a life."

I blushed. He had a point… I really didn't have a life except my work…

"But why?"

"Because if you don't –" he began gingerly, "—I'll kill you. And that, I swear, is the truth."

That night I finished all of my paperwork and spoke to the head of The Vault. He surprisingly understanding, saying something along the lines of 'sorry to see you go, have a good life, sorry the bastard did this to you, etc….' I didn't think much of it. What I couldn't stop thinking about, however, was Clete's words. If you don't, I'll kill you.

I left for New York Friday and settled into an apartment building in Soho. Saturday morning I awoke and began to unpack until I heard a knock on my door. Wrapping my robe around me tightly, I turned the doorknob and opened it to find a newspaper at my feet.

"Wait! This isn't mine! I don't have a subscription with the Daily Bugle!" I called to the boy's back who disappeared.

"Ah well… free newspaper…" I sighed and scooped it up, taking it in with me.

I didn't give it a second glance as I tossed it onto the pile of boxes and continued unpacking. The day went by slowly and I got to the boxes with the paper on it. As I began to take it off, I stopped. My face lost all color and a chill ran through my bones, as I'm sure it did to everyone in New York who read that paper. There, on the front page, was the grin of a mass-murderer who had terrorized New York City and had claimed thousands of lives, with needle-sharp teeth and huge white eyes, a monster from a child's nightmares with living flesh. And the headline? Carnage Escaped! New York is Petrified!

I became aware of the cool breeze that drifted through my apartment, turning my gaze to the open balcony window where the very same monster from the paper draped itself over my windowsill, wild tentacles thrashing insanely, skin dripping, flowing, and oozing from red to black and back again. He grinned that familiar malicious grin. I dropped the paper.

"Hiya, Doc…"