"When I was a kid...

"When I was a kid, the world didn't make sense - didn't need to, either. I didn't question the monsters that bore down on us all like gravity. When my mum carried me out of the house to the sounds of the city itself screaming in terror, that was just another Tuesday - a fun trip to the zoo, lots of other kids just as lost in the unreadable world as I was.

"Then I grew up, and somehow the world makes even less sense. My da' was never around much anyway, and Mum died when the governments of the world decided playing Forts and Castles was enough to keep the monsters out. Some weeks later, he dies, and the war's over. Forever, they said. Sure, humanity no longer had an enemy, but we have a way of picking fights when we get bored. Think of all that shared information we've already passed out like candy to nations we'd wanted nothing to do with before, all those dead to grind down to the bone, smelt into new monsters.

"Most days, I just want to go out and play in the yard like nothing's changed. The scent of rotting Kaiju still lingers under a lot of noses, mine included. At the very least, my friends and I have this patch of the world to ourselves, anyway. It really is quite beautiful, when you know how to stay low.

"Still, I can't help but want to go out, defend my home like my father, and his father before him. Lots of people say I'm really his son, and though I don't want to say it out loud, I really think it's true.

"The Apocalypse's been cancelled, but the demons remain. These Legions are called 'Humanity', and they've been handed the hammer.

"Just like when I was a kid. Nothing makes sense in this godforsaken world anymore."

...

"Starfish," Newton muttered.

Outside, wind howled, thunder was coiling its godly whip. This room was incredibly large, far larger than did anyone's sanity any good.

It's friction in the air, caused by masses of water and dust that can't quite sync with the air around them. Strange, how even rain and thunder seem so… wonderful, now. I guess that's how Newt saw the world, and now I've seen it too.

Not exactly how Newton saw the world now, though - for one, he'd lost the glasses a while ago; two, he wouldn't need them for much anyway except the pokey bits. His vision wouldn't suffer from not seeing a featureless room, right?

He had a non-pokey chair, too. Even in his current state, an adult Newt could sit so folded-looking in a seat as to resemble a child. Herman smiled at that thought. He was always so childish, rushing into things without question, only curiosity. His eyes rarely met people, they'd look over a shoulder at something shiny, something gross, something huge.

"Starfish," he repeated, making a very brief 'snap!' gesture with his fists. Hermann wanted to sigh, to get across just how impatient, how cross he'd be with this overgrown Kaiju fanboy if he didn't say something useful!

"Newton," he began. "Do you remember - "

"Oh, good, it's wakey-wakey time!" He slumped in his chair as if dead asleep, a heavily tattooed arm reaching out with incredible sluggishness for that damned alarm clock! Drunkenly: "Wkaeywkeyabouizundgorrlzzzz…"

You don't want to talk? Or am I just not listening? Tell me, Newton, how can I listen?

His tattoos had grown only more fascinating since getting himself locked up in here: Kaiju from all across the original Kaiju Wars, including some of its closing acts: Raiju, Otachi, the Cat-5 whose name he couldn't remember. He regretted never listening to the scientist go on and on about it.

Silence.

"You'll want to know the world's not in a good state of affairs - but then again," he added, cracking a small grin, "when is it? Kaiju are gone, but somehow the war remains, you wouldn't like it much."

"Poison in the water." Hermann nodded.

"Yes, very good. The waters are still poisoned. That is something they left for us."

No response this time. He saw another flash outside, heard no thunder.

A tear escaped from Newton's left eye at random, and Hermann followed it down to where it was lost in the black scruff of his face.

That's when the thunder hit; Hermann, ever easily-startled, did what little jump he could.

Newton probably saw it. But said nothing.

So Hermann didn't say anything, either.

This is a waste of time. There's a reason he's in here, after all. I don't know why I still bother coming here at all.

There was one light overhead, and it barely had the intensity to let you know there was a light source. All the real light came from the window, and gave the guy in front of it an unreal silhouette, almost a cloud.

"Oh, Frank, it's one of those days. Got your Magnums ready to go?"

Yelling, slamming his hand against his leg:

"Doctor. Newton. Geiszler!"

Apparently it was enough to get the man's attention. Slightly impaired eyes squinted in his direction. He leaned forward, and Herman saw the grime and grease of his unshaven face, the watery graveness in his eyes. Strange, how they did that, especially on stormy nights like tonight. As eyes widened in some Newt-esque attempt to focus, Herman was a little surprised he didn't speak, there was no fearful crack of thunder through that window. Why would anyone have windows in a ward like this, anyway? It's a terrible idea!

"Hermann?" Something about those eyes had always seemed so off, so unstable. Now there was none of that inhibition holding him together, and that was how he'd gotten here. But for a moment, the soul made itself presentable for him. "Hermann, is that you? Everything's… It's blurry. Hermann?"

Success!?

"Yes, it's… It's me. Do you… Do you know where you - "

"Starfish, Starfish, Starfish! Where do I sleep, when do I wake up, I THINK I PEED THE BED! A crazy bladder's contagious these days, ainnit!?"

"Newton," Hermann began. He couldn't finish. This, he'd decided, was a very, very bad idea. His friend was beyond helping now, no matter how little he wanted to believe that.

(He didn't doubt Newton had peed himself, either.)

He tried getting up. Just as he'd predicted, Newton just looked over his shoulder, as if he did not exist. Nothing that could be used as blunt instruments, and so he was without his cane; he struggled to get up out of his padded chair, his already-weak knees making a difficulty into a downright challenge.

"What's the matter, Hermann?"

His eyes went wide. Newton's very existence had never felt right to him, being locked in a mental ward had felt even more fundamentally wrong, yet…!

It forced him to his feet, at least; still, everything past his waist threatened to buckle and drop him right back to this floor. If he did that, there'd be no reason to worry about getting out of here.

He had to get to the door.

"Coming back sometime soon?" Still, unless his eyes were planted in his head at an angle, he never looked directly at the feeble mathematician.

"Y-yes, Newton. I'm… I'm coming back."

"Well, then, spread the word: StarfishStarfishStarfishStarfishStarfishStarfishStarfishStarfishStarfish!"

One knee gave way as all of a sudden the wall by the door behind him. He collapsed against it, shivering a little. Five steps from the door.

The door opened, squeaking a little. An oversized orderly with curly hair on his arms longer than that on Hermann's head came through, saw him sprawled against the wall. He thought he saw his cane in the man's hand.

"Did he hurt you?" Hermann shook his head when the patient in question suddenly let loose a sharp trill, lolling with his tongue.

Mouthing, shaking his head: "No, I'm fine." Then… He needed another few steps in that direction. Newton was still trilling. Then talking.

"Make it soon, Hermann!" That forced him the rest of the way out, and the orderly stepped back to let him through, holding out an arm for his stability. Without considering any more of it, he snatched his cane hurriedly from the man, who pulled the door shut behind him, locking it.

"That'll be all, thank you," he informed the orderly quickly, starting down the hallway as his usual hobbling self. He wanted nothing more to do with this place for the time being.

"Starfish," he muttered. "Well, he said it for a reason, didn't he?"

He hobbled down, not looking back, repeating the word to himself as if it could help him understand the man who no longer existed.

That being said, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Poison in the water, indeed.