A/N: All right, I've decided to redo the ending of this chapter, because it…well…sucked. All right, some of you might think all of my writing sucks anyway, but I don't care! Mwhahahah! Anyway, here's the revised chapter, and I will hope it will suck less.
P.S: In case anyone cares, I got the author of The Divine Comedy wrong. It was Dante, not Cervantes.
"I just want my arm back," -Vitriol
Chapter 4
"So, Dr. Martinez, why don't you tell me what's wrong with our portable generator?"
"Nothing's wrong with it. You heard me tell Abigail. Ours never exactly worked that great either."
"I've been told it worked better than ours is working now."
"Knock-offs are never as good as the original."
Dread frowned. "True."
Berto sat across from the man behind the desk, fidgeting nervously. He had noticed the DREDD version of the portable generator had been having less of an effect lately, but he hadn't mentioned it for obvious reasons. Every time Max was recharged, it seemed to be wearing off faster and faster.
Berto was painfully aware of the fact that Dread was staring at him even while he was lost in thought. That severely freaked him out. However, he was finally replaced as the center of attention as a loud beeping sound came from a gadget on Dread's desk.
Dread tapped a button twice, and then spoke into a microphone on the gadget. "Psycho," he warned.
"What?!" came the angry reply.
"You know what."
"I wasn't anywhere near him!"
John Dread casually leaned over and looked at a monitor next to his computer. "Mr. Steel is in the lab area, and you are in the hallway ten yards away. I believe the specified distance was thirty yards."
"I wasn't doing anything!"
"Why are you there, Psycho?" the warning tone had returned to Dread's voice.
There was no reply, but Berto could hear loud crashing noises coming from the other end of the line.
Berto tried not to smile, but he couldn't help but find humor in the fact that while Max and Psycho were now on the same side, Dread still had to impose a restraining order on the cyborg.
"I suppose it is rather funny." Dread nodded. "Well, if you're not going to tell me anything of consequence, you may return to your quarters."
Berto hesitated, but then realized Dread would know where he was anyway. "I was actually thinking about seeing how Max is doing."
"Max is being worked on right now. We have a nanotech expert of our own. She's quite brilliant. You two might have a chat sometime, but not today. I must request that you return to your room."
Berto paused, then nodded and left the room, bumping into Psycho as he shut the door behind him.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" the latter growled.
"Sorry!"
Psycho handed him a folded up piece of paper. "Give this to Steel."
Berto watched as Psycho stormed down the hallway, and then unfolded the paper. A drawing of Max's head on a stick was displayed in what looked like red sharpie pen, with the words 'You should have given my boot back earlier," printed above it.
"I didn't know you were an artist!" Berto yelled after Psycho.
Psycho spun around and started stomping back towards Berto.
"AH!" Berto refolded the paper as he ran back down the hall and barricaded himself into his room, tossing the paper in the garbage pail. He flopped down onto his bed, and fell asleep.
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
(I've been told other ways to do dividers, but I've decided I like my L's.)
"So, Max, have you been feeling any…different lately?"
"What, besides being tired all the time?"
"Yes, besides that," Melissa (378) stared intently at him.
"I don't know," Max looked puzzled, "what kind of different?"
"Will you stop answering my questions with questions?!"
"Sorry."
Melissa took a break to calm herself down. She wasn't making as much progress as she had wanted to. She guessed she had miscalculated in the formula for the injections he had been getting. If it wasn't for that stupid cyborg…
"Can I go now?"
"No, not yet, I still have to ask you a few more questions."
"Like…?"
"Like, how do you feel about being here?"
"What-"
"If you ask 'what do you mean' one more time, I will call Psycho down here and then see how you feel about being here, now answer the question!"
"All right, jeez," Max thought for a second and then answered her. "It feels weird to be here. I know that I'm supposed to be here, and that I'm really on the right side now, but subconsciously there's this voce screaming that this whole thing is wrong. Really wrong."
"Do this feeling usually get stronger when your energy starts running low?"
"Yeah, how-" he stopped as she shot a death-look at him. "Right. Sorry. No more asking you questions."
"All right, Max, now listen to me. When you start running out of energy, I want you to listen to the voice that's saying everything is wrong. While you're being recharged I want you to-"
Right then the door opened, and Abigail walked in. Melissa didn't skip a beat, but immediately changed what she was saying.
"This is where you belong. Just try to stay focused more on your energy, and try not to tire yourself out too much."
"Well that won't work," Abigail whined. "I need something to keep me occupied. That's the whole reason my grandfather brought him here!"
"Yes, I realize you need something to 'occupy yourself with'," Melissa said, turning to face the new arrival, "because as I seem to remember it, the last time you had to be by yourself, you crashed a brand-new, very expensive hovercraft into the rainforest, and broke your arm all in one go."
"I got him here, didn't I?" Abigail shot back poisonously.
"For now."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
Melissa's glare was as cold as Abigail's was angry. "It means for now."
Then, she immediately changed her demeanor, and smiled dazzlingly at Abigail. "I've got some work to finish up," she said lightly. "See ya around!"
Abigail watched her leave the lab, and then turned to Max. "Let's go see what the toaster oven is doing!"
"Joy," he muttered.
All righty, it sucked…less? More? I love feedback, as always.
