The penitentiary facilities on the planet Ossus, especially Orilcia, the capital city, had always prided themselves, and still do to this day, on rehabilitation rather than punishment. The Orilcia Mental Institute was no exception, and if anything a prime example of the Ossan government’s rather liberal approach to dealing with convicts and the mentally deficient. Zark Ekan was an exception, and a rather embarrassing one. Despite this, he had not caught any publicity. The Orilcia Mental Institute didn’t allow it.
Most of the residents of the Orilcia Mental Institute were those who had been willingly committed. Those who had realized that there was something wrong with them and had turned themselves in to the authorities or the institution itself. There were also those, like Zark, who had either had a damn good lawyer, or had committed themselves and later been reevaluated as too dangerous to reenter society until properly rehabilitated. In short, Zark was a prisoner until he got better, which was not something the doctor’s perceived to happen anytime soon.
The mental institute was not a prison, and did not have the security of one. If the explosion hadn’t been so loud, it likely would not have been noticed for quite a while, especially given it had happened today of all days. The institute was running on skeleton staff already, many of the workers having taken the day off to attend the funeral of Rogue Jedi Master Gash Jiren, either because they supported the Order or because they just wanted to get a guilt free day off.
One ‘guard’ was sent to check out what had happened. His name was Andrew Loryn. He had been a police officer until he had accidentally shot an innocent man. He had resigned, and taken up a job at the mental institute in order to ‘further his contribution to society’. In reality, he enjoyed working there simply because the residents made his problems seem miniscule in comparison. Andrew was a drinker, and to a lesser extent a drug addict; a rare thing both on Ossus, utopian paradise of the galaxy.
When he saw Zark Ekan stumble out of the smoldering ruins of his cell and screaming ‘murder, murder’ over and over again, it took him a little while to realize this was not a drug induced hallucination and that he was, in fact, sober. The screams in his head had become so great that Zark had unconsciously begun to repeat them out loud, at the same volume as they boomed in his head. The Force, still chaotic and not fully under his control, amplified his voice quite a bit, making Andrew’s ears hurt. He winced.
“C-calm down…” Loryn offered meekly, not quite sure what to say.
Zark had never been a talkative prisoner, and apart from the occasional outbursts of seeing someone or something named ‘Roland’, he had never caused much of a fuss. He had certainly never done anything like blown up his cell before, as Andrew assumed he had, and the expression on Zark’s face was not one of his usual hysterical fear but intense pain. Loryn would have attributed that to the explosion, if he had not noticed that Zark had not a scratch on him, or a torn piece of clothing. He was covered in dust, giving him an even creepier look, but other than that he was completely unharmed.
As Loryn viewed more closely the extent of the damage the explosion had caused, he marveled. The walls…well, there
weren’t any walls anymore. None except the back wall, which had only escaped destruction because of its thickness and had still been torn up quite a bit. The cell door was lying along with the cell door the opposing room against the opposing room’s back wall, having dented that quite a bit. All of the walls were durasteel.
“Sir…” Loryn tried again, unaware, along with the rest of the staff, of Zark’s name, “Sir, are you alright?”
During Andrew’s inspection of the damage, Zark had collapsed onto the floor in the middle of the hall, holding himself and muttering ‘murder’ over and over. He wasn’t yelling anymore, the pain was too intense. He barely seemed to register Loryn’s presence, let alone acknowledge his question.
“Are you alright?” Loryn repeated, unsure of whether or not to help the man. He was dangerous, Andrew remembered.
“NO!” Zark screamed suddenly. Loudly. Impossibly loudly.
Whether or not the scream had caused the shockwave or it had followed of its own accord, Loryn was unsure. He was too busy at the time flying through the air and landing roughly on his back five feet away at the time to really think about it. Andrew was terrified. His ears were ringing, he suspected that he had soiled himself, but wasn’t sure, and wasn’t in a hurry to find out.
By the time he had managed to compose himself and muster up enough courage to look upon Zark once more, the dangerous resident was no longer on the ground. He had stopped squirming and holding his head. The look of pain was gone, the muttering had stopped. He was standing in the middle of the hallway quietly. Standing there, and staring at Andrew, a completely blank expression on his face. His hair rustled slightly in the breeze, only there was no breeze.
“I need to leave,” he said quietly. Calmly.
Loryn was paralyzed with fear, unable to move and certainly unable to respond. A few minutes passed.
“Mr. Loryn,” the resident spoke again.
The utterance of his name seemed to jog him from his shock. Waves of soothing seemed to flow over him. He suddenly no longer felt scared, but calm and relaxed. He had no way of knowing that Zark was the man responsible, and it probably wouldn’t have mattered to him even if he had.
“Yes?” Andrew asked, as if he was speaking to a polite stranger who had stopped him on the street.
“I need to leave the Orilcia Mental Institute,” Zark said once more. The slight waving motion his hand made went unnoticed by Loryn, “I must attend the funeral of Gash Jiren.”
“You need to leave the Orilcia Mental Institute,” Andrew repeated, “You must attend the funeral of Gash Jiren.”
It made so much
sense. Of course he needed to leave! Andrew felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. Shaking his head, he grinned at his stupidity. The only possible solution to the problem was for the resident to leave. It was so
obvious, and he hadn’t picked up on it.
Andrew motioned for Zark to follow. The resident did.
They were almost to the lobby. Every step was a struggle for Zark Ekan. All of his concentration was bent on preventing himself from doubling over in pain. The Darkside was strong in this place. Even if the staff liked to think otherwise, this always would be a place of suffering. Suffering of the mind. There was no greater suffering than insanity. Zark knew that all too well.
They were almost there, almost free, almost out! Zark saw the glass doorways, so inviting. So demanding. One of the few other staff members, the one at the front desk, called out to Loryn. The man began to turn. Straining his mind, he increased his influence on Andrew’s alcohol weakened mind. He stumbled, the energy required to stave off the Darkside and control Loryn proving to be almost too great a task.
Luckily, Andrew caught him, and steadied him, smiling all the while. It sickened Zark every time he saw the Jedi mind trick preformed. It sickened him even more to know that he was the one responsible. A human mind was sacred, that fact doubly important to Zark ever since he had gone mad, and to influence it was not something the Jedi should take so lightly.
No matter, it was almost over. Loryn swiped his card through the slit, and the light flashed green.
“Andrew!” Jameth Neil called out for the tenth time, this time finally jogging him from his intoxicated state.
“Yes?” he turned, speaking in much the same way he had spoken to Zark.
“What…why…what the frell is wrong with you?!” Jameth screamed.
“What?” Loryn turned, and Zark Ekan was gone.
And then it hit him.
“Shit,” he whispered.
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