CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Burn The Witch

Mister Arthur was tired despite his third cup of coffee. It was the graveyard shift, and campus was lonely in the late hour. If it were not for his footsteps crunching over the salt on the pathways and sidewalks, there would have been the kind of silence that stretched, amplified by the packed, snowy lawn.

Personally, he thought that making hourly rounds was overkill when his office had a dozen live-feed cameras. But work was work, and everyone had to do it. At this hour, students should be in their dorms sleeping, and the few still up partying or doing late night cramming were sure to stay inside where it was warm.

It was probably the easiest security job he ever had, and usually uneventful. There was the time a year ago he had been making his rounds and came across a student who must have slipped on the ice and knocked herself out, and he had to call an ambulance. Occasionally he would find students huddled together and sharing a joint, but he would just have them stomp it out and disperse - he was not the type to call the police for these things. But then there was the worst, an event that he would love to never experience again… finding the unconscious child prodigy of Humboldt dying on the floor of the science building. Mister Arthur shivered, but it was not from the cold.

Per usual, he did an exterior check of all the buildings and a quick pass inside. With his universal keycard, he had full access to the school, and it was a monotonous routine after ten years of employment... so he was not paying attention to the small details when he went into his last stop - the science department - and missed the strange little robot on the wall near the front door.

It was a quick job. In the lobby, he pointed his flashlight down the main corridor and then went into the stairwell. At the entrance to each floor, he shone the beam down the hallways, and on the top level he passed through to the opposite stairwell - nothing, the place was dead. As expected, and as always. He was out through the back door, and that was it for this hour. He was glad of it, because the warmth of the security office was enticing.

When he arrived, Mister Arthur peeled his coat off and began to puff hot breaths into his cupped hands as he settled into his chair. That was when his eyes were drawn to one of the monitors. He leaned in close. Odd… he was positive that no one was in the science department when he checked. He hadjustleft.

But clearly on the screen, a sort of glow emanated from the science building's third floor. He could not tell if it was his imagination, but Mister Arthur could have sworn it was pulsing. Weird. He knew that there were very expensive things in some of those rooms, and it was only a short walk away, so he began pulling his coat back on and grabbed his flashlight to investigate.

Frogg was fidgeting, nervously waiting, when he watched Mister Arthur approach the front entrance of the Science Department. In his claws were the controls to his mechanical 'spider' invention made summers ago, the one currently perched on the wall above Mister Arthur's view. When the door began to close behind the security guard, he steered the invention so it quickly crawled down. The force of the door was enough to break the delicate machine, and it was a small sacrifice, but it had worked – the door didn't lock. Minutes later, Mister Arthur left the back exit, presumably to the warmth of the security office, and Frogg moved.

He had to be quick.

From where the robot had become wedged and crumpled, it fell to the ground when Frogg pulled on the door, and he quickly scooped it into his coat pocket, being sure not to leave a single screw or scrap of evidence. He slipped inside.

The lobby was dark. Frogg took his glasses off, put them in the pocket next to his destroyed robot, and then retrieved something from the other – his special copper goggles. He had a claw on the right-hand side, clicking a tiny switch as he flipped through all the settings he had built into them. When he found the night vision setting, the dark world before him came to life in varying shades of green.

At another time, he would have been doing all sorts of exploring and experimenting with the night vision feature, but not tonight. He was on a mission. He'd have to make the effort of not flipping light switches out of habit. No one could know he was here. The small scientist knew this place by heart, and his feet carried him to the second floor - the level used by the biology and chemistry students. The really good stuff was behind a set of doors with both a fire hazard and a biohazard symbol on it, one which he did not have access to anymore on account of his deactivated keycard, so he had to improvise.

He knew that many graduate students in their research would leave their materials out so they could pick up where they left off the next morning. It was of course a rather irresponsible thing to do, and he had it drilled in his head to always keep a clean and safe workspace, but when one has deadlines and time is short, corners would be cut. Frogg would be lying if he said he never did it before as well, certainly around exam time… and he was counting on it now.

Frogg explored the chemistry labs, looking over the tables and haphazard stations, meticulously going over the bottles and phials sitting out. Nothing was jumping out at him. There were several things that should definitely be behind that set of doors with the hazard symbols on them, but not what he needed… until he saw it. Frogg smiled.

What student was granted the use of this chemical for his or her thesis? More importantly, who was irresponsible for having left it out? He lifted the phial of the colorless liquid closer to his face and could immediately conjure up the image of its molecular structure and recite its chemical formula. What was commonly known as Ascaridole.

When he arrived at his old lab space on the third floor, the place that he had been so ruthlessly kicked out of, Frogg was sure to check the power was off before he got to work on the laser. It only took a few minutes - after using a wrench to remove a panel and expose the circuitry within, it was almost fun in an unhinged way as he switched out wires, mismatching colors and ports, things that normally would have him pull his hair out in distress if he saw. Then, with the utmost care, he produced the phial of Ascaridole. The liquid inside was pungent and would have made his eyes water had he not been wearing his goggles, and when he oh so carefully poured it, he was unable to resist a single manic giggle. This went against everything he had ever learned. Lab safety – ha! He felt like a child all over again, playing with a chemistry set.

Now, all it would take is one small spark.

He returned the panel to its original place and then went to the computer that controlled the machine, flipping it on. It was more difficult than it should have been to type with his claws, but he went through the program Ishaan created.

His claw hovered right above the 'start' button.

One last time, he looked mournfully towards the machine, his creation and brainchild, sad that this was what had to be done... but no one could steal this from now.

"...I'm sorry."

He pressed 'start.' The dials and buttons began to glow as the laser initiated its powering-on sequence, the same one that preceded him losing his hands almost two months ago, its pulsing light filling the room. He had exactly two minutes until electricity would surge into the tampered circuitry. Archibald gave the machine one last wistful stroke, a tiny little kiss as if it were his own child, then darted from the room.

When Frogg hurriedly stepped out of the Science Building, trying his best to look inconspicuous, he returned his goggles and headband to a coat pocket and donned his glasses. He discreetly dropped the empty phial and stomped it into the snow. The campus was still empty, yet he immediately rushed to where he could hide in the bushes and waited.

His watch told him that he had hit the forty-five second mark.

Frogg's stomach was all nerves when there was ten seconds left, then five, and then three... two...

Even though he was expecting it, Frogg still jumped and shielded his head. There was a blinding light from one of the windows and a muffled boom, one loud enough that the sleeping birds in trees took flight and Frogg was certain he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. There were several seconds as if nothing had happened at all, seconds that felt like hours. Then the shrill ringing of a fire alarm pierced the night, and he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.

Frogg woke to the smell of rye bread warming and eggs cooking. He sat up with an exaggerated stretch and deep yawn, and from where he would flex his fingers high above his head just weeks ago, his cybernetics made the faintest whirring sounds as they spun - sometimes the devices would translate subconscious movements in odd ways. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he used a forearm to rub the sleep from his eyes.

His tired, blurry vision gave away to the normal sight of his room. One that looked like it might have belonged to two different people. Adorning some spaces were posters of the solar system, a portrait of his idol Nikola Tesla, or a topographic world map, and on the other wall would be album art belonging to that of Joy Division or The Smiths. His bookcases were overflowing with authors ranging from Stephen Hawking and Heisenberg to H.G. Wells and Lovecraft, and there was the clutter of long-past toy inventions or taken-apart electronics covering the shelves. A case full of rock vinyl sat next to a record player that spun, creating white noise.

Frogg drew himself from bed and gently returned the record players' needle to its cradle. He did not even remember putting the vinyl on the night before. In fact, it was as if he had no memory after returning home (for a disorienting second, he wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing up), or what time it may be until he heard Professor Reinhart's familiar voice murmuring downstairs. He had not left for work… It was very early, then.

Wearing his old pajama bottoms that had pictures of rocket ships and a gray tee for sleeping, Frogg began padding down the stairs. He was dog-tired from his late night and could have kept sleeping but was famished as well, pleasantly surprised to have an appetite in what felt like ages. From where he could see into the kitchen from the staircase, Frogg temporarily took a seat close to the banister.

Professor Reinhart and Gisela were in the kitchen helping each other put breakfast together. Frogg found himself faintly smiling. Lately Gisela – who would never identify herself as a cook - had been on a kick where she liked scrambling her eggs instead of frying them, and Hans was teasing her about the mess as he sliced bread that he had gotten from the local bakery on last night's commute home. They were not aware of him as Gisela playfully splashed egg white onto the rim of the Professor's glasses and she was laughing, the Professor grinning as he took a napkin to his face. He kissed her cheek afterwards, his hand lingering on hers as he put the towel back in place.

Frogg, who never got to meet his real mama, had been told before by the mocking bullies who knew that he was adopted that it was the woman's job to pack lunches and to cook for the men and children of the house - something that he'd never know without a real mother. And growing up he always wondered what it would be like to have a mama to do all the supposed things mothers were supposed to do... But he liked seeing this, his two Guardians having fun and working together at an hour that seemed much too early for two humans to be so sweet to each other. He wondered if he could have the same thing one day, if he could ever be loved with how he looked now with his metal parts, and for an elated second he imagined him and Lisbeth as a family one day. For a boy who had only just had his first kiss, it was an ambitious thought. He might have still been riding that high of feeling her lips against his own, or of the nervous exhilaration of his secret mission at the University...

Suddenly realizing what he was doing and feeling much too voyeuristic for his liking, Frogg announced his presence with a cough and began coming down the stairs.

"You're up early, Archibald!"

"Good morning," he sleepily replied and took a seat at the table.

The food before him made his mouth water - rye bread with warm butter, marmalade, and meat and cheese slices with tomato. Gisela was ladling eggs onto a plate. He had to wrestle with his fork a bit until it seemed right in his claws. It was work, but he was getting used to it. It was getting better.

Frogg was sleepily yet contentedly chewing when the Professor mentioned it to him, "Archibald, I think we need to talk about what has been happening to you at the University."

"What do you mean?" he was idly stacking a piece of salami and cheese on his toast. It was the first time the subject matter did not make his heart rate spike, make him feel as if he could be sick. The stressors and high stakes of the night before brought him peace this morning. Finally.

"Well. Since it seems the University isn't doing much to help us, I think there are other ways we can get some justice for you. I spoke to a lawyer yesterday who said they might be able to help. Do you know what a lawsuit is?"

"Mhmm."

He did not really know all that well, but Frogg was barely listening to what the Professor was saying to him then, and that was when the phone rang. His professor sighed at receiving a call at such an early hour, and Gisela innocently shrugged to show she was too busy eating to answer, so the man stepped to where the phone hung on the wall.

"Yes, this is Hans?"

Upon hearing half of the conversation beside him, Frogg attempted to make his expression neutral: "Really?Really?... how unusual… no, my god, how is he? I understand. Yes, totally understandable… I will. Thank you."

When the Professor returned to their table, Frogg was trying his hardest to hide the satisfied smirk on his face. To reciprocate, he put another bite of rye and cheese into his mouth and looked anywhere but at his troubled Guardian's face - at the clock on the wall, out the kitchen window facing the street where a bird flit past…

"I've been called out of work. There's been an incident at the University."

"Really, what happened?" Gisela sounded concerned.

"Yeah, what happened?" Frogg murmured.

"There was a fire in our department late last night."

"Oh my goodness, I hope everyone is alright."

"Yeah, I hope everyone is okay," Frogg echoed his adoptive mother as he took a bite of his eggs.

"Well, no. Arthur the security guard is not. He got badly injured."

Frogg spluttered, suddenly choking on his food, sending bits of eggs onto the table. Gisela exclaimed and began patting his back, and it took a moment for him to clear his airway, but when he had his words again Frogg rasped out, "Mister Arthur? Wh-What, why?"

"That's right, poor man... I'd rather you not tell anyone else this," the professor said in confidentiality, "But the Head said he received some very severe burns. Walked right into some sort of explosion in the engineering labs. They're still trying to determine the cause I suppose…"

Frogg was sick to his stomach.

He had been positive that he was alone in that building. Why would Mister Arthur have gone back, and how did Frogg not notice? Nice Mister Arthur, the French man who liked to call him Little Frogg and was so friendly? The one who even found him in his most time of need after the lab accident and called the ambulance? It had never occurred to him until that moment that this man had saved his life. Oh my God, he hurt him. As someone who was familiar with the hazards of working around explosive materials and had lab safety absolutely drilled into his head over the course of years, Frogg knew the severity of second- and third-degree burns- but how could this possibly happen? He had been so careful; he had planned everything so meticulously-

These thoughts flitted across his consciousness, raw and unfiltered, and it physically manifested in the form of him becoming white and vacantly staring at the plate of food before him in horror.

"Archibald?"

He was aware that it was the Professor repeating himself.

"Huh? What?"

His Guardian was observing him in a strange way, studying Frogg's reaction to the terrible news.

"You don't know anything about this, do you?"

Frogg might have shaken his head 'no' a little too fast, and he suddenly declared that he was full, and he thanked them for the breakfast, rushing right back up to his room. When he took a seat at the edge of his bed, the room was spinning so he had to close his eyes and pull deep breaths.

Frogg had been absolutely certain that he was all alone in the Science Department last night… he distinctly remembered seeing Mister Arthur complete his rounds. Was he losing his grip on reality? Did his accident knock his head around that much? He never meant to hurt anyone, Frogg would never do that. Poor Mister Arthur, this was all Frogg's fault, he did this. That was when he realized that he had been gnawing on the tips of his claws just like how he used to nervously bite his nails. Frogg made himself stop before he chipped a tooth, forcing his trembling 'hands' into his lap. He had to get it together; he had to keep his cool.

If there was one thing that he knew for sure, it was that no one could ever know about what really happened.

He had to think.

Frogg went over his plan as calmly as he could, though his face was numb from the severity of it all - He would just continue this day like it was any other… he would see Lisbeth later today before she had to move and everything was going to be fine. Just fine. He might even see if he could find out what hospital Mister Arthur was at so he could drop by tomorrow with something nice like flowers or a card... But as the hours passed and Frogg tried his hardest to keep his mind occupied, to keep himself busy to avoid the impending sensation that he was on the brink of an anxiety attack, something told him that it would not be fine at all.

The police came at dusk.

When it happened, Frogg was in his room listening to soft music and working on blueprints for a project he had in mind, desperately trying to keep busy as he waited for Lisbeth to arrive. The thin white lines he had drawn on the paper were shaky, and he played classical records gifted to him from Gisela years ago – the Chopin concertos had helped calm him when he first moved here, but not now. He tried not to check the clock too much, yet the needles ticked at a glacial pace all night, torturing him. At last, 6:00PM was getting closer. Before he had needlessly tried shutting her out of his life because of his accident, Lisbeth normally arrived earlier, but it was a Tuesday and that was when her school yearbook club met after school. Frogg groaned, running his claws through his thick locks of hair. He was beyond stressed. The mental gymnastics he was performing –everything's fine, everything's fine- was not comforting him at all. Six could not come soon enough.

When he heard a car turning onto their quiet street, Frogg rushed over to the window just as he had done a dozen times this night already. He was being paranoid, and for good reason. Frogg's heart plummeted into his stomach. It was a police cruiser.

"No, it's nothing," he whispered to himself, but did not believe it one bit. On other days he had seen the police drive by so many times and never thought anything of it before. He was telling himself to stop being ridiculous, that he was being hyper-vigilant, and it was just like any other time. The car was slowing down. Frogg felt sick to his stomach but was still desperately trying to tell himself that everything was alright when the cruiser parked outside of his house. When the lights atop the cruiser lit up, and an officer began coming down their short walk, Frogg was consoling himself and he was going to throw up now, "It's fine. Everything is fine. Everything is fine."

It was the knock at the front door that made it reality. Just like when he confronted No Man's Land years ago, his extreme stress and fear gave way to a sort of numbness. As if he was having an out of body experience. However, when he was called to the door, he did not try to run this time, instead quietly coming down.

Frogg was guided to the cruiser waiting outside, and the neighborhood children and some of their parents were gathered and watching, having been attracted by the swirling lights. Their eyes followed as the police officer led him to the back of their patrol car, the large adult's hand painfully clutching his shoulder. Frogg hardly heard the taunts coming from the neighborhood bullies who were present- that they always knew he was a freak and he must have done something especially sick, and he realized that he was numbly looking to see if Lisbeth was amongst them. But he did not see her familiar comforting face, and the officer ushered him into the backseat without a word.

Behind him in the house, the Professor and Gisela were scrambling to get their things together so they could arrive at the police station not far behind him, and it was as if he could still hear the Professor desperately saying it to him as Frogg had descended the stairs, a look of horror on his face, "Archibald, what have you done? What did you do?"