Ira Billings' secret grin looked like it belong to a man in love.
The tall, dark-haired former psychologist paced in his padded cell happily.
His package came today.
Angel Proctor's conversations with the man on the other side of the wall were pleasant ways to pass the time. It was nice to talk to someone so much like her. In two months' time, the two Ph.Ds had talked psychology, family histories, crime and daily issues with the ease of lovers.
For today though, he didn't say much to her. She was strangely quiet this time of day.
"We'll talk again." The psychiatrist said to the walls, then sat down on the bed.
"I wouldn't let you down, my dear."
A light buzzed in his cell. The daily rounds of medicines were coming around.
An orderly carrying a plastic serving tray with a prescription bottle and a paper cup with water stepped into the cell. A second orderly stood on guard at the door, closing it behind him.
"Your medicine, Mr. Billings." The first orderly announced.
He opened the bottle. The opaque container was full to the top with round pink pills.
The first orderly took the water and dropped a pill inside of it, watching it sizzle then turn clear in seconds.
"Thank you." Ira Billings spoke, his back to the oldery.
A flash of light began to radiate in the room, Bilings continued. "For allowing me this chance to get away."
"What the-?" The orderly cried, backing up. The second orderly ran into the room, sensing trouble.
Only a flash of light coming from the room made the situation seem any different.
Angel Proctor prided herself on not needing drugs in the crazy hospital.
Unlike the rest of the nut jobs here, she maintained her sanity without the aid of a pharmaceutical company. The only time she used anything (sleeping pills) was when she spent two sleepless weeks plotting against The Pink One if she ever got out of this nut house. Most of the time, they went under her bed or in the toliet.
When the orderly came around to give her medication, she did not hide her hurt feelings. The orderly announced himself at the door. "Medications."
"Drugs are for the other nuts. You got the wrong room."
A familar voice answered, "Oh no, I'm pretty sure I have the right room, Dr. Proctor."
"Is this a joke? The head psychologist says I don't need any more sleeping pills. I think I would know too. I used to be one."
She emphasized, she was still a psychologist in her mind despite losing her licence to practice.
The voice on the other side of the door answered, "Would you really know–Angel?"
Suddenly shot the lock off her cell door with a blaster. Angel dove behind her bed when the blast went off with a scream. The red head shook her head, face written in shook and awe. A large gapping hole now took the place of the cell door, Ira stepped over the rumble into the room. Angel finally looked up to face whoever stood in the doorway after it was blown off the hinges. A tall dark-haired man wearing the hospital-issued pajamas stood inside of the now opened reenforced steel door. He looked unshaken.
"What the heck?" Angel crawled toward the wall.
"So we meet." The figure smiled.
Her green eyes narrowed, his voice jogged her memory.
"Ira? Dr. Ira Billings from the other side of the wall?"
He smiled, confirming her suspensions, "I told you someday you would see me sooner than later. And I have delivered."
"What are doing out your cell? The guards will thrown you into a worst cell in a heartbeat!"
"I decided that we should have our conversations in more. . . comfortable surroundings." Ira spoke, reaching behind his back.
"This can't be happening. . . " She shook her head.
He held a needle in his hand: "Dearest Angel, the world is full of illusions."
Angel woke up in the back of something moving. Something moving very to, she realized after a long moment that she was in a car traveling in the middle of the night.
"Morning love." A male voice told her.
"Huh?" Feeling foggy, the red head sat up suddenly. Someone in a wild red and black costume was driving the car. The woman let out a startling scream.
The figure looked over then removed his mask in a quick swipe. Angel screamed again, it was the same tall dark-haired individual. The same Dr. Bilings.
"I feared you would go into hysterics, given your innate fear of strangers and strange places that your parents instilled into you. So I just had to help you sleep."
Angel ran her hands up and down the length of both arms wildly until she felt a Band-Aid.
"You sedated me!" She demanded to know why, her mind still in a haze fog.
"Every good psychologist knows-" Dr. Bilings stated, leaving the mask off for now.
"You're sick!" Dr. Proctor cried. She backed up against the car window in fear, searching for the locks in vain, shaking the door.
Ira Billings smiled an easy smile to the lady cowering next to him, "Dr. Proctor, we only treat the sick. We're ourselves are not the sick."
"This is crazy!" She dove for the wheel but Ira restrained her with his free arm.
"A funny way of putting it."
"Let me out!" She beat her fists against him.
"Why?"
"Why?" She asked astonished, "You drugged me, kidnaped me and done only God knows what else to me!"
"I just gave you your freedom and a fresh start to do something new. Angel, we're free to follow our own devices. To pick up where we left off. I'm sure you have a Pinky to deal with."
The ghostly smile on Ira's face threw an mute fear into Angel.
She pieced together the events–they had escaped New Arkham Asylum. Somehow. He he wanted her to come with him. Correction, he kidnapped her.
"You should drink something, dear. You're very pale." Ira insisted.
Next to the water bottle in the backseat was a prescription bottle fulls of pink pills that were instantly recognizable.
