He had gone mad a long time ago�or so they had said. -- Starbase Rugby: The Brig

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Date Posted: 09:15:52 06/25/01 Mon
Author: Joskur the Dirge
Subject: He had gone mad a long time ago�or so they had said.

Cell 235; Pad 5; Level 3
Maximum Security

Society always tried to find a way to rationalize someone like himself. Someone who delves into the utter depths of depravity that few dared to navigate. He embraced that depravity. He soared in the freedom of his mind and morals. And he knew, beyond all others, that he wasn't mad at all. He literally enjoyed the position he was in now, biding his time. Waiting. Watching. Listening to the old one a few cells down, yet never replying.

Perhaps that one was mad, it didn't matter.

He crouched in the back of his cell with his eyes closed, dreaming day dreams of his own power. Dreams so powerful that he could literally run away into the dark landscapes of his mind. Today, perhaps, he would walk the halls of his imagination and recall some of the writings of old earth's Tolstoy. Or perhaps he would read the passages of the Illiad. He didn't know for sure.

In the halls of his imagination, was a myriad of stairs and mirrors reflecting landscapes that didn't exist here, but when walked through would be a completely different realm. He ignored the mirrors today and the tortures that were being enacted in many of them. The halls of his imagination were draped with the skin of his enemies--and his friends. The floors were tiled with the skulls of his hundreds of victims. The ceilings were the paintings of the Sistine Chapel, and there, in the center, was God reaching out to Adam�the man who had fallen from grace.

Against the walls were murals praising the first murderer of Old Earth. Cain, the fugitive. Free to live a life without anyone attacking him but constantly dwelling on the murder he had committed. Many thought this to be a curse, This One thought it as a blessing.

To marinate in one's murders was like drinking a fine wine.

On another mural was a depiction of paradise lost. Perhaps a sad mural for some, but a painting of victory for his dark mind.

A door slammed and someone moaned and Joskor smiled. He decided to return to the cell and as he opened his eyes his body once again took the color and of his surroundings.

It was meal time and they sought to feed him�they were pitiful. If any of them had the level of intellect that he manipulated, they would have killed him long ago. But no�they fed him and kept him strong.

Fools.

This guard was careful...like the others.

He slipped the food in following every protocol of not having his hands near the cell door. Of standing back and blowing the food in with a hose. He smiled wickedly.

The guard left and Joskor the Dirge, waited. His time would come. Someone would get careless. Many would die.

He entered the Halls of His Imagination again. It didn't matter when�it would happen.

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