A/N: Nothing award winning, I know, but I had to write something…
Chapter Something
He was in a warm kitchen with the smell of bacon and eggs in the air. Although he could not really eat food like normal people, Psycho still enjoyed the familiar things of his pre-cyborg life. Looking around the kitchen, he saw it was painted in a warm yellow color. Standing at the stove with his back towards him was someone familiar. Psycho couldn't place exactly who he was, or where he knew this person from, but he knew that this too was a good and familiar part of the kitchen. Sitting down at the small table in the corner of the room, he stared at the person, trying to remember who exactly they were. The hair, the clothes, the way the person stood, Psycho definitely knew this one from somewhere. Then, suddenly, he remembered. Standing up with a jolt, he yelped. "Steel!"
"What can I get for you Psy Psy?" the person at the sink turned around happily, wearing an apron that said "Kiss the Cook" over his regular N-Tek uniform.
Psycho backed up slowly, wanting to get as far away as possible.
Max looked concerned. "Are you okay, hon?"
Psycho focused on changing his left arm into that nice, handy claw, but instead felt a gentle tugging on it. Looking down, he saw a small child of about four pulling on his hand.
"Dad! Jeffie broke my scooter again!"
Max waved a spatula at the kid. "Not now, James! Daddy's having one of his moments again."
"One of my what! Daddy!"
"Aw, looks like someone needs a hug!" Max said, and started walking slowly towards Psycho with his arms open. "Come on, Psy Psy! Give me a hug!"
Psycho backed up even more quickly, until he was flat up against the wall. "No! Stay away from me! Why isn't my claw working! Get away from me! No!"
There was a sharp pain in his side. He shook it off. He was occupied right now. He had to stop Max from hugging him. The pain again. 'Not now!' he wanted to yell at it. He had to find out who these kids were. Surely not his. His would be much better looking, anyway. The sharp pain again, this time waking him up.
"Thank G-AHHHHHHH!" Spotting what seemed to be some kind of green sea monster lurking over him, Psycho tried to run from his bed, but instead only managed to tangle himself in the bed covers and fall flat on his face. He struggled to free his arm, and pointed his laser at her. "Don't come any closer!"
"It's me, you fool." Regaining his senses, he slowly remembered where he was: one of the abandoned DREDD bases. The sea monster standing there glowering down at him was not a monster at all, but only Dragonelle with a night mask on. Not that that was always an improvement if the latter was in a bad mood.
She rolled her eyes. "You were screeching in your sleep again."
"Was not," he muttered, lowering his arm and letting it shift back into it's 'normal' form.
"Well then, are you mentally stable enough to get back to work tomorrow, or do you need to take a break? We can't have you screwing things up by having a nervous break down during an operation."
"Get out of my room."
"It's six o'clock anyway," she said, flipping on the light switch. "Time to get up. We have a lot to do today."
Muttering curses at her retreating form as she left the room, he got himself together as best he could, and a few minutes later followed her down to the kitchen. The nice, modern kitchen with no yellow walls, or nice smells, or…anyone else.
Looking around, he realized she was not in there, but instead in the dining room, already dressed and de-sea monstered. He didn't know how. If he was anyone else unaware of her specialty in disguises, he would probably be incredibly confused at her instant changes in appearance. However, he was used to it by now. Instead of commenting, he proceeded to the dining room.
The room was a mess, of course, as was every room in which the other occupant of the base spent a lot of time in. While Psycho liked everything neat and sterile, she, of course, had to be a big and leave her garbage all over the place. They had both lost count of how many arguments this subject had been the source of. Indeed, on top of the pristine map of the world he had tacked down to the table with neat little pushpins, were multiple unfinished cups of coffee, candy bar wrappers, Popsicle sticks, and a dead mouse. Actually, he didn't really think she was responsible for the mouse. Things like this happen sometimes when the electricity gets cut off. They'd been using infinity ice to keep food in the refrigerator and freezer. Actually, she'd been keeping food in there. He didn't eat, and this fact caused even more arguments, as she seemed to eat even more than necessary just to mock him.
With one swipe of his arm, he cleared all the debris off of the table, and sat down on a stool to look over the map. The places they had already struck were marked by red pushpins. Potential targets were in white. Psycho felt a surge of psychotic happiness as he saw how many red pushpins there were. They were good.
"So, which one you thinking about next?" Dragonelle asked lazily from the other side of the table, eating a pop tart.
Psycho grinned. "Denmark looks good."
"When do we leave?"
"Now."