Control and Fear:

(Earth #8193, New-Alexandria, The Narrows, Ashcroft Asylum, 1995 A.D.)

Dr. Valentine sits comfortably in her session-room chair looking over the first file of the three new patients that were assigned to her. Looking over the information in the folders, the realization of just how difficult these new patients could prove to be sets in. The first of the new patients she is about to meet is a man by the name of Damien W. Smyth, otherwise known as The Piper.

“We all go a little mad sometimes,” mutters Dr. Valentine, amused as she reads that Damien W. Smyth was once a fellow doctor at Ashcroft Asylum, specializing in cutting-edge Harmonic Therapy Techniques.

“Patient seems to suffer from a deep-seated sexual obsession with the concepts of ‘fear’ and ‘control’. Umm, perhaps that is a place to start with him. Let’s focus on the ‘fear’ aspect first and see where that leads us” murmurs Dr. Valentine to herself as she organizes her thoughts. Smyth’s violent nature is well documented throughout the file and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little scared. Fear is a weakness, Gwen and there is no time for that. Trying to recompose herself, Dr. Valentine takes in a deep breath as she prepares to come face-to-face with this renowned lunatic, the doctor of fear and control.

The silence of the office is broken by the sound of rapping on her office door. The good doctor stands and makes her way over to the door. She opens it with a welcoming smile and gestures for her visitors to enter, shutting the door behind them. One of the visitors is a very well-built guard dressed in full combat Kevlar, carrying a combat shotgun. Someone looks like they would feel right at home on a battlefield going knife-to-knife with an enemy soldier. Next to the massive guard is a very thin scraggly-looking man. He is wrapped up tight in a straight jacket and chains. His hair is dirty and wild, his eyes a shade of blue unlike any she has ever seen before. They shine like shimmering sapphires in the dull light of her office.

He locks his gaze with hers, causing her to become momentarily lost in the immense beauty of his eyes. His eyes are like the eyes of an angel, thinks Dr. Valentine before reminding herself that those eyes hide horrifying insanity. The scrawny-looking patient just grins maliciously at her as the guard escorts him over to the C.N.P. Couch and gestures for the patient to lay down. Smyth does as he is bidded and calmly lays down on the Couch. Dr. Valentine pulls up a chair and sits down nearby the couch gesturing for the guard to leave. The guard turns and walks out of the room shutting the door behind him. Okay, Gwen Mr. Moon believes in you. You can do this.

“So you must be Dr. Smyth. My name is Dr. Valentine and I am to be your new therapist. Let’s start off easy shall we? Can you tell me how you are feeling today Smyth?” asks Dr. Valentine warmly as she takes out one of her pens and starts the session.

“Tired. After all, I didn’t sleep last night” answers Smyth, licking his lips wickedly. The C.N.P. Wall behind Smyth wakes up, detecting Smyth's Cognio-Mnemonic Activity. The thousands of radiant blue specks of light projecting from the wall begin to morph and twist.

“Yes, I heard; something about sexually assaulting one of the female guards last night?" inquires Dr. Valentine as Smyth sensually exhales as if savoring a sweet memory.

"I heard you broke her arm in two spots and left her with a shattered knee cap and two cracked ribs. How did it feel to do that?” asks Dr. Valentine, her tone more pressing than before.

“It was all Bateman’s idea. He started the attack but I could smell her fear and vulnerability pulling me forward like a moth to the flame. How could I resist joining in? I owe Bateman for that. I have seen that guard around here often. Her eyes were always so lovely and confident but they held no fear so Bateman and I put the fear into them and showed her how illusionary her sense of control really was. What we taught her she will never forget or escape.” The blue ghostly lights of the Wall morph themselves into a horror show of images as Smyth relives the assault in his mind. Dr. Valentine can see the guard desperately trying to crawl away from them, fighting with all her might to no avail. Dr. Valentine watches and takes notes as Bateman slams the guard's head into the floor while he continues to brutally pound into her with each thrust of his hips. She can see Smythe forcing the guard's mouth open and inserting himself as he pulls her hair and mocks her.

“So you feel no guilt? No remorse for the pain that you and Bateman caused her?” asks Dr. Valentine, feeling relieved when the blue lights return to their abstract state.

“You tell me, doctor. What should I feel for her exactly? What should I feel? Don’t you see doctor, giving fear is my gift to all mankind and only through this act of giving am I really alive? Only through Fear can I show the world that their sense of control is nothing but a facade. I am Fear… I am Control. The only true free will is my will.” Smyth’s eyes pierce deep into Dr. Valentine’s core sending a deep dark shiver through her heart.

“Are you trying to scare me, Smyth?” asks Dr. Valentine, doing her best to maintain her composure.

“Oh no my dear doctor, I already have. I can smell your fear, you’re saturated with it but don’t worry. Yours is a fear I want to savor for a long time to come.” answers Smyth. Calm down Gwen, don’t be scared. You're the doctor and he's the patient, he’s restrained. He cannot hurt you.

“Perhaps we should move on. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? I have your file here but there are large gaps in what we know about your past. Let's start with your parents, shall we? Who was your father?” asks Dr. Valentine, attempting to sound casual but desperate for a change in subject.

“Wait… wait I know this part. I’ve done it before with my patients. This is the part where I’m supposed to break down and cry about how my father raped me and stole my… ohh what’s the word… innocence. Is that right, doctor?” answers Smyth playfully.

“Did he?” asks Dr. Valentine probingly.

“No, no I’m afraid not, doctor. Despite how easy it would be, my so-called ‘insanity’ is not something that can be blamed on my father. You see, he was not alive long enough. My mother made sure of that. The way she stripped away his sense of control and dissected him muscle by muscle, piece by bloody dripping piece. It was beautiful and it filled me with warmth. I could smell my father’s fear fill the air and it was glorious” explains Smyth, his sadistic smile growing wider with every word as if reminiscing on something truly precious to him. The lights of the wall spring to life morphing and bending in order to convey the gruesome images playing out in Smyth's mind. From the images, it appears Smyth is witnessing the event from his bedroom. His mother seems unaware that her crime is being watched. Dr. Valentine observes the images as her heart finds a subtle sensation of pity for Smyth. Oh my god, the poor child. To have to witness that.

“Your mother killed him? She killed your father right in front of you? How old were you when you saw this?” asks Dr. Valentine. Compassion saturates her voice as she leans forward placing her hand on Smyth’s shoulder only to have him turn away from her coldly. Pull it back Gwen, don’t over relate.

“I was twelve, but I’ll never forget how it made me feel. I felt something inside me wither and die, and from its ashes, a new sensation burst forth. From then on I knew the power of fear. Seeing her kill him. Seeing the fear in his eyes as she did it. It touched me. It aroused me.” Wait, what.

“Aroused? As in sexually?” asks Dr. Valentine, taken aback a bit. The ghostly blue POV video of light playing out before her looks downward revealing Smyth's hands massaging his exposed shaft as he watches the brutal murder playing out before him. 

“Yes, that was my first climax” answers Smyth as Dr. Valentine scribbles down more notes. After a few moments, the images fade and the lights return to abstractness. Well, that’s a massive red flag right there. Dr. Valentine takes a deep breath and then continues.

“So, to what gender are you sexually attracted, Smyth? Men… Women…”

“Terror and Vulnerability, doctor. Their gender does not matter.” interrupts Smyth clearly becoming aroused. He chatters his teeth for a moment and licks his lips once more with excitement.

“I see. Well, your mother may have hated your father enough to kill him but what was your relationship like with her?”

“Complicated doctor, very complicated” answers Smyth turning back to Gwendolyn.

“How so?” presses Dr. Valentine.

“Oh in all the typical ways I’m sure. Mothers and sons always have complicated relationships after all the role of 'Mother' is a very multifaceted one. When I climaxed watching her kill my father, my view of her was transformed just as I was. She had become my crimson goddess of fear and control and the sole object of my devotion. ” replies Smyth. Wow, a real Norman Bates here, thinks Gwendolyn with an uncomfortable chuckle, writing down ‘Mommy Issues’ in her notes and circling it.

“You mean she became a sexual obsession to you?”

“When she killed my father she showed me the true nature of control and fear and I needed more, I needed her.” Smyth breathes in deep as his body writhes with lust.

“So what happened?” presses Dr. Valentine, pretending not to notice his increasingly sexual body language.

“Mother’s Day happened and it changed everything forever. While she was my goddess, I was nothing to her. I was just her lowly unworthy son. A socially awkward waste of her eggs who embarrassed her at every turn. To her, I was nothing but a constant disappointment. I loved her and every day I would strive to be worthy of her. Every day I would strive to make her see me in a positive light but I always failed and it always hurt.”

“I see?” mutters Dr. Valentine scribbling down notes. Okay, that’s strangely sweet yet psycho.

“I was fifteen when that Mother’s Day came around. I spent a whole year planning my gift. It was to be my grand final attempt to win her affections. I worked so hard, toiling away to create the perfect supreme gesture to show her how much I loved her. A gesture to show her that I was worthy of her recognition, of her affection.” explains Smyth. The light-show kicks back to life, revealing a montage of a young Damien Smyth working hard after school at his desk over many days on some sort of multifaceted Mother's Day Presentation.

“How did she react?”

“How do you think?” counters Smyth as the images suddenly change.

“She attacked me, berated me, beat me so badly I could no longer stand from the pain inside, then she stripped me naked and tossed me out of the house. She let me crawl, bleeding, broken and exposed through the grimy and pervert-filled back allies of the Narrows. Well, I am sure you can imagine how they received me. A vulnerable and broken little lamb left at their mercy. I was tortured, degraded and used to satisfy every urge they had.”

“That must have been horrible for you” mutters Dr. Valentine, softly running her hand through Smyth’s messed up and tangled hair. No one deserves that, no one.

“The fear and submission they forced on me washed over me like a tidal wave of pleasure and shame.”            

“Pleasure… You enjoyed it?” responds Dr. Valentine confused. Of course, you did but it’s not your fault is it? Nature and nurture made you a broken boy but you deserved help, not abuse. There could have been hope for you then but now… now I don’t know.

“More than I could ever hope to express”

“How did you survive all that?” asks Dr. Valentine.

“I was rescued by a kind and compassionate young nurse who lived nearby. She could mend my wounds but she could not heal the rage…”  

“Rage? Explain.” requests Dr. Valentine.

“Those perverts gave me the best gift of fear that they could as they took advantage of me and I am forever grateful. What they did they did because they wanted me. But my mother, that rejection hurt me in a very different way on a much deeper level. I mean I tried so hard on that Mother’s Day presentation. I spent a year preparing it and perfecting it and she rejected me. When I woke up in that night-nurse’s apartment, rage was my only burning emotion. A rage that blazed like a monstrous inferno inside me, fed by the years and years of her constant rejection. It was that rage that drove me onwards through my recovery in the night-nurse’s care. Once I was healed. I walked out of her apartment to find I was no longer that boy who pined after his mother. I now had a goal and a drive to fulfill that goal.” explains Smyth grinning twistedly.

“What goal was that?” asks Dr. Valentine.

“Revenge. If my mother would not love me willingly then I would put the fear into her by force. I would show her that my will is stronger than hers and teach her what terror and control really mean!” answers Smyth laughing. Of course, you’d want revenge against that monster but is what you have become really better? “That is a lot to unpack Smyth, but thank you for sharing it. Your honesty with me is important and I appreciate it very much” responds Dr. Valentine, jotting down her final notes of the session.

“Of course. As a fellow doctor, I understand how crucial it is for doctors and patients to be honest with one another. However, I do believe we have neared the end of our time for today” responds Smyth.

“Wow, you’re right” replies Dr. Valentine looking at her watch. A loud knock at the door causes Dr. Valentine to get up and go open the door. In steps the large guard from before. He makes his way over to Smyth and yanks him hard to his feet and escorts him out of the room. God is the roughness really necessary? These patients are human beings you know?  Thinks Gwendolyn as the door closes behind them.