Dubliner sat in the stiff, leather chair as the shrink read through his weekly notes. The smell of smoke engulfed the entire office room, the cold feeling of handcuffs to the chair with the ever-present motto of justification "For your own safety" that accompanied them swirling around Dub's head. The dull echo of the shrink began to sharpen until it crescendoed and pulled Dub out of his trance.

"...and you got into an altercation with a fellow--occupant?"

"He took my lunch tray." Dub explained.

The shrink's eyes narrowed at Dub in pure skepticism. 

"What do we need to do to get you more involved here? We're trying to prop you up for civilian life. You've seen trauma in your past, it runs in your family--each one being taken away in an unnatural manner."

Dub lifts up the hand that's handcuffed to the chair.

"A good start would be to stop treating me like a circus animal or a lab rat here for your experiments."

The shrink looks at Dub and shakes his head. 

"You know we can't do that. It breaks protocol. It's unsafe for us and for you."

Dub looks back at the shrink.

"Then it looks like we will waste away hours daily in pure, unadulterated silence until each one of us die a miserable death naturally..." 

The shrink thinks to himself for a moment before looking at the orderly who stands next to the door and motioning for him to comply with Dub's request. The orderly steps over to Dub and grabs his wrist before unlocking the handcuffs and removing them from the chair. In a swift motion, Dub swings the Orderly around and rips the Orderly's baton from his waist before kicking his knee in and dropping him to the floor. 

The shrink stands quickly to his feet but is off-balanced and falls backward over his chair. Dubliner beats the orderly across the face with the baton until the orderly lays motionless and, hopefully, unconscious on the ground. He turns his attention to the orderly whose crawled backward and now leans against the wall holding his journal in front of his face. Dubliner walks up to him and yanks the journal out of his grasp and looks at the pages. 

Detailed notes about the psychological workings of Dubliner's inner mind are scribbled down, hypothesis of what exact past occurrence in his life may have been the last straw in Dub's mind that sent him over the edge was, and even ideas on how to break through to him and get him back onto the path of "civility" were all written in the journal. 

Dub rips the pages out of the journal and drops it into the lap of the shrink and proceeds to beat him over the head with the baton as well until he is also unconscious on the ground. As he turns away, he walks towards the fireplace situated behind the desk and tosses the papers in there. Watching to make sure they were all adequately burned, Dubliner walks back to the orderly and takes his keys and clothes and makes his way to the main exit, all others none the wiser. 

Back at it. Free from the mental prison that left him practically paralyzed for many months. He's back on the street and ready to make a name for himself again. 

Still trying to make her way back to her HQ, Bubbles was walking along the streets of New York. She still had a bit of a walk ahead of her but at least it was a nice day out and well the exercise was always a good thing. She had logged way too many hours behind her desk recently, so taking in the fresh air was nice.

She wasn't really sure what street she was on, they all get jumbled after a while. Though she did know she was headed the right way back to Manhattan. "Make a right past the mental institution." She said in her head. Which was the building that she was coming up upon. The building that had a man coming out of. A man that looked oddly familiar to her. "Dub?" Was the thought that went through her head.

If it was who she thought it was, it was an old friend of hers. Someone that she hadn't seen in what seemed forever. She thought he fell into a coma some where and just would never find his way back. The close she got the more certain she was that it was him.

"Dub????"

He looked at her and gave her a smile.

"Well, well. I never thought I'd see this face again. Where the hell have you been?"

"Do forgive me, Bubbles, it has been awhile."

He looks down at his clothes he's wearing--still looking like an orderly of the institution--he put out the best lie he could come up with on the spot.

"Been volunteering...?" He said with an embarrassing lack of confidence. He shook his head and fessed up...

"Truth is, since my father was killed back in Chicago all those months ago, I'd been 'residing' in this institution--deemed a safe place to grow by the trusty police force who caught me in cahoots with the old crew that my father was associated with. Said it'd be the best place for me to 'grow out' of my criminal inclinations through mental exercise and stimulation... Really it was just a place they knew they could toss me where I'd never be an issue again while also letting the orderlies and the ol' shrink in there have a bit of fun prodding my brain..."

Dub's ears perk up to the sounds of distant sirens likely not headed this way, but it snapped him back to the present situation and the fact that there were two bloodied state workers unconscious in the office inside that could be discovered any moment. 

"Listen, Bubbles, do you have a place we could go to catch up? Perhaps away from any wandering eyes who might be interested in sending a patient back that they, and the government, would deem 'Out Early'? There was a slight altercation inside and my release date isn't exactly today...or anytime soon, for that matter."