Post by madddogg on Apr 4, 2007 23:46:20 GMT -5
How did we get here...
Several weeks ago.......
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"What the hell am I doing here?"
Logan's standing outside the entrance of a rundown hospital in St. Louis, watching half a dozen junkies squabble over a handful of bills in the alley, wondering what's become of his life, to where Seth is suddenly summoning him to the slums of some pissant town in the middle of no-one-gives-a-shit-ville. The reek of urine overpowers him and he staggers a few feet further from the alley, trying vainly to escape the stench.
"Where the hell are you, Seth? Cause this is exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend, smelling human waste in St. Louis. Not drinking or anything."
"You never were very patient, Logan."
"And who in the hell are you?"
Some loser's standing in front of him, a half smirk on his annoying little face. Talking to Logan like he mattered or something.
"Hi, I'm Joe Smith."
"The question was rhetorical boudle. I don't care who you are. I'm not here to sign autographs, take pictures, or make loser redneck friends. I'm waiting for Seth Lerch, and as soon as he gets here, I'm gone."
With a quick turn, Logan starts walking to the corner, away from this idiot, still standing there with his arm extended. As if Logan would ever dirty himself by shaking hands with this nobody. After a quick pause, as the less than welcome greeting sank in no doubt, the upstart spoke again. Some people just can't take a hint.
"Yea, Seth's not going to be here, Logan."
"Excuse me?"
"Seth's not going to be here. I sent the letter, not him."
He can't believe his ears. Not only does this schmuck think he's important enough to introduce himself, but he's sending letters dragging Logan to parts of the U.S. unfit to bury the homeless...
"You did what?"
"I sent the letter. As I was about to tell you..."
"Listen here, boudle..."
"What's a boudle?"
It takes the wind out of his sails only for a minute. Now this guy's interrupting him? That's it.
"Don't be a wise guy. Everyone knows what a boudle is...And that's not even the point. You wasted my time. You dragged me to a place I never wanted to be. You pretended to be my boss. This is why I'm sick of this job. The fans acting like I'm their friend, like I owe them something. 'Sign an autograph for my kid Logan. Let me put you in a headlock and take a picture, Logan.' To hell with all of you. I don't want anything to do with any of you. I just wanna sit back and coast. Do the bare minimum to get by until my contract expires, and then get out of this business once and for all. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the fans. I'm just tired. I just want to be done, and you fans, you're like leeches. You jsut keep sucking the life out of me. You take all I have to give and demand more. I don't have anymore. What do you want from me?"
They're both silent for a moment. Logan's outburst certainly isn't what this no one had in mind. Joe looks away from Logan, obviously uncomfortable, and stares at the cracks in the sidewalk for what seems like an eternity but is only a couple seconds. When he turns back, a smile has creeped across his lips.
"Logan, I think what I'm about to tell you is going to change all of that. I think what I'm going to tell you is going to make you love wrestling again. I think what I'm going to show you will make you the number one guy in WCF again."
Logan can't help but laugh. It's not the first time someone has come to him in his career and promised to change everything. Everyone thinks they're a genius. Everyone thinks their idea is the greatest thing to ever be thought up and that they've got the cure for what ailes you. He's heard every tired idea in the book. What the hell, why not one more?
"What'cha got for me boudle? A magic potion? Some beans? A genie in a lamp? Hell, son, I've beaten everyone. I've held every belt. I'm the only reason WCF is known for anything. Anything worth doing...I've done. No, scratch that. I've done everything, even the stuff not worth being done."
Again with the little half smirk.
"I can guarantee you haven't done this."
Without another word, Joe spins on his heels and strides confidently through the front doors of the hospital. Sheer curiousity alone leads Logan to follow, his legs matching Joe's stride before he even notices he's moving. They navigate the maze of nearly identical corridors swiftly, not pausing to look at the arrows at each intersection. The overwhelming antiseptic fumes can't fully mask the odors of rot, urine and death, only mask them. A constant hum eminates from the various machinery they pass, broken up only by the staggered beeps from the numerous heart monitors. A dozen or so turns later and Joe announces they're at their destination. With a sweep of his hand, he yanks back a curtain to reveal his revolutionary secret...what will "change Logan forever". Though he can't help but let a contemptuous little smile creep across his face, Logan nevertheless steps forward to see Joe's prize. Instantly, the smile vanishes.
"That...is that..."
"The one and only."
Even half obscured by an endless jungle of wires, Logan would recognize those patterns anywhere, the brown tan and gold tribal markings seeming to hover above the black cloth of the full body suit. Whereas anyone else would look frail, weak, connected to this many monitors, wrapped in this many wires...he still looks defiant and warrior like, dangerous, even in a drug induced sleep. It's been awhile but Logan remembers him well.
"Madd Dogg."
"Yep, I stumbled upon him a couple weeks ago when I was here visiting my mother. I figured that if anyone could benefit from this...it'd be you."
He almost didn't hear the door closing behind them.
"Oh, pardon me. I didn't expect anyone to be in here. Our patient here hasn't had any visitors since he arrived. I didn't mean to disturb."
The doctor is small, his frame no doubt accentuated by the ridiculously oversized lab coat, with the coke bottle glasses so think that they looked opaque from the overhead lights reflecting off of them, hiding the yees underneath. His features are sharp, his nose almost a beak, the lips thin and pursing, the ears far back on the head...just big enough to hold up the glasses. A glint from his bald head hit Logan in the eyes, causing him to have to shift a couple inches to the left, just to see again. Mottled knuckles adorned his fingers, making it look more like branches were protruding from his lab coat...not hands. As he looked them over, he moved his weight over one foot, then back again, almost doing a little dance as he studied them. On his left breast pocket, a small brozne name tag read Dr. Ian Singer.
Joe responded without missing a beat. "Not at all Doctor Singer. We were just wondering how long our friend had been here."
The doctor contemplated them for a moment before answering, doing his odd little hobble as he thought.
"He's been here for several months. Some concerned citizens found him wandering the streets, looking none too good and brought him here."
"Yea, Doc." Logan couldn't help but let his sarcasm color his voice. "Mind explaining how a guy in a full body costume and a mask 'doesn't look good'?"
"Well, it's not like our patient is a stranger. Millions of people saw him on T.V. for the better part of a decade. And he's something of a local celebrity to boot. When he wasn't acting like himself, a couple of people were concerned something was wrong, and they drove him here. He's been here ever since."
"Yea, great. So what's wrong with him."
"Well, physically...nothing. He's fit as a fiddle. Perfectly healthy."
"Stop wasting my time, Doc. Healthy people ain't in the hospital. Our boy is. What's the deal, boudle?"
Perhaps he just wasn't used to being talked to like that, or maybe it was just Logan's abrasive manner, but either way the Doctor stiffened, bristling at his treatment. Either out of anger, indignation, or pure shock, he managed to stammer out, "The problem isn't with his body. It's with his brain. He's not right in the head so to speak. Our patient is not well."
"Yea, he's a sick puppy, Doc. Everybody gets that. Anyone who's seen the Euthanasia Chamber knows he's screwed in the head. You hear it, Joe? Sick puppy? Madd Dogg? I'm a genius."
Unable to keep from rolling his eyes, Joe ignores Logan and takes up the line of questioning. "What exactly is wrong Dr. Singer?"
"Well, it's easier to show than explain. Let me wake him up." The doctor turns a knob and kinks a tube leading into Dogg's arm. The eyelids start to flutter almost immediately. "It takes an insane amount of seditive, a dangerous amount, just to put him to sleep. Keeping him in a state of relaxed sleep requires that level be kept constant. As soon as the drug flow stops, the effects begin wearing off. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen." Under a minute and Dogg's eyes are open, looking back and forth between the three men. As the doctor moves forward, Madd Dogg focuses on him. "Do you know who you are?"
There's a slight hint of a slur, what you might expect from someone who's been awake for a couple of hours after a night of heavy drinking, not someone who is minutes removed from almost fatal doses of various seditives, and powerful drugs.
But the response is immediate, "Yes. I am Madd Dogg."
"Where are you."
"Barnes Hospital."
Growing impatient, Logan lets it out, "Great, doc. He can answer simple questions. Truly ground breaking."
Ignoring him, Dr. Singer continues, "Are you happy to see me?"
A pause, but the answer is still quick, "Yes." The heart monitor shows a small spike in readings.
Logan again interjects, "Great. You're butt buddies. I get it."
"But what don't you hear?"
"Anything worth my time really. Look doc, I'm sure this is fascinating to someone, but it ain't to me."
"Come here. We'll show you more." Logan grudgingly moves over, and the doctor brings him to bed side. "Madd Dogg, do you know who this is?"
"Logan."
"Damnit, this is boring."
"Hold on, Logan. I think I understand what he's getting at..." Joe moves over. "Madd Dogg, do you like Logan?"
There's a long pause, but the word finally escapes his lips, like the breath of a dying man, "Yes." The beep on the heart monitor is frenzied, and the heart rate spikes, taking several seconds to go down.
The look on Logan's face is priceless. "What the hell? He doesn't like me..."
"Ask him a question. Something simple. Maybe something to get a rise out of him."
Hesitantly, Logan reaches out both hands, and flicks off Madd Dogg with both fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up boudle?" Ask soon as he's done asking, Logan pulls his hands back, out of Dogg's reach.
However, there's no reaction. Just a slight pause then the simple answer. "Two."
"Logan turns on the doctor, interest quickly replacing indifference, "What the hell is going on here? He should've broken both my hands...but he's not..."
"Not trying to? As I was saying. Notice what's missing from his voice. Anger, impatience, sarcasm, hatred, actually he's devoid of any emotion at all, except for an occasional happy note. He doesn't cuss, doesn't crack jokes, doesn't get short. There's no anamousity, no responses to stupid questions with mockery. If anything, he's unfailingly polite. He responds to stupid questions with kindness, sometimes smiling. And he now seems to have a desire to please. When prompted to do something, he responds with a simple yes, and performs the task. It's uncanny. He didn't even respond to your insult. I do assume boudle is an insult?"
"Boudle is a....hell, everyone knows what boudle means. So what're you saying to me Doc?"
"It seems Madd Dogg is not only incapable of responding with harsh words, not only incapable of saying mean and hurtful things, he is also completely unable to use violence, to be mean or hurtful in not only word, but deed. And this has somehow gotten to the point to where he seeks to be nice, to be kind and caring, to please people. He won't even say the word no."
"Wait, wait, he'll say yes to whatever I ask?"
"We have yet to find a question to which he'll respond in the negative, unless his answer would be hurtful by saying yes."
"Oh I have gotta try this." Logan walks over and grabs himself, "Hey, Madd Dogg, I bet you'd love to give my package a big kiss wouldn't you?"
A pregnant pause later, ".....Yes. I don't see why not."
"Oh, this is fucking gold. It's like when a tiger is declawed and defanged. This is better than every childhood Christmas combined! Well, Christmas always sucked as a kid, but you get my meaning! He's like a damned puppet. This is gonna be soooo much fun. I've got my very own loyal puppy."
Joe once again catches a small point that has escaped Logan in his zeal. "So, he won't attack anyone? Madd Dogg is completely harmless?"
Suddenly it dawns on Logan too. "Wait, I can't use him as an attack Dogg? Get it, Joe?"
"Yes, Logan, I got it."
"If he can't hurt people...what the hell good is he?"
The doctor pauses to pull off his glasses, wiping them with a small cloth, revealing a pair of small beady eyes, devoid of color. Breathing on the glasses, and wiping the condensation off, he slowly stammers out a weak answer. "Well, just because he can't wrestle anymore, it's not like his life is over. He can live a long life doing things to benefit the community, planting trees, doing service projects and...."
"Yea, doc, I get it. He can be a regular boy scout. Lovely. But him kissing babies ain't gonna do too terribly much for me, now is it?"
Once more, Joe sees an upside that Logan can't, "Wait, Logan. He doesn't have to be violent to be useful. Think about it. You have the most violent guy in WCF history at ringside with you. That in and of itself is a huge psych out, even if he doesn't do anything. They won't know he can't hurt them, and that gives you an edge. He can distract the ref, distract your opponent, slide you weapons...hell, the possibilities are endless. He'll do anything you ask."
"Hey, that's a good point."
"Dr. Singer, is there any chance that Madd Dogg is still in there? That he can see what's going on, is aware, but can't do anything about it?"
The doctor smiles at the question, patting Joe on the shoulder like the prize student who has all the right answers, "Good question, my boy. Yes, we're positive he's still in there. If you'll pay attention to the heart monitor..." Offhandedly, the good doctor gestured at the screen with his pen, so Logan and Joe could take notice of the rise and fall of the heart beat steady and even. "Madd Dogg. Would you say we are friends?"
"Yes, Dr. Singer. I'd say we are friends." The heart monitor began to beep unevenly as the rate changed dramatically.
"Are we good friends?"
"I'd say we are good friends." Now it was beeping like crazy as the monitor showed his heart rate spiking.
At this point, the Doctor left bedside to return to Logan and Joe. "I think that's enough of a demonstration. Before he gets truely aggitated. I'd say that not only is the real Madd Dogg still in there, not only can he see and hear what's going on, but he doesn't like it one bit. Being nice seems to almost cause him physical pain. You can see it in his heart rate, his blood pressure, and when we took scans of his brain, it lit up like a Christmas tree when he was forced to be nice."
Logan can't help but clap like one of those mechanical monkeys with the cymbols. "So, not only would I be able to control Madd Dogg, make him my slave, but I'd also be able to cause him pain by doing so?"
Doctor Singer frowns in disapproval. "Well, to force him to do things you know he wouldn't like would indeed cause him pain. But that would be unethical and..."
"Got it. The answer is yes. Thank you Doctor. Madd Dogg. Would you say I'm you're buddy?"
"Of course, Logan. We're buddies." The heart monitor starts going wild.
Logan can't help but give a mischievious wink and grin to Joe. "God he hates this." Back to Madd Dogg, "Do you love me, big guy?"
"Sure Logan. I love you, like a brother." The heart rate is no longer a rise and fall, peaks and lows. Now it is just a green screen as the waves are going too fast to be seen by the human eye.
"Priceless. But I bet it's not brothery love is it? It's probably gay love right?"
"You got me Logan. It is gay love." The machine starts to smoke from over exertion. Warning bells ring out, danger. Danger.
Joe takes the Doctor aside. "Now this change. It's perminant right?"
Dr. Singer shakes his head. "I have no clue. We don't know why this happened. It could've been that he snapped after losing to Cradle...or it could be that he's just so bloody evil that for the Universe to even out he had to be forced to be nice for a time. We have no clue either way. And since we don't know what caused it, we don't know what, if anything, will fix it. It could be perminent, or it could be changed by something as slight as a fly landing on his head. It's extremely tricky. God only know when or if he'll get better, and what it'll take."
Logan's really digging this, asking more and more humiliating questions. "How bout this, buddy? How bout you call me master? How bout it? Call your good buddy Logan, Master?"
"Of course Logan...I mean...Master."
The machine shakes for a moment before exploding. Sparks fly everywhere and the lights in the room go out in a massive power surge. As the emergency room lights bathed the room in an eerie red glow, Madd Doggs features twisted in the small flame dancing on top of the now defunct heart monitor, reminding everyone of the violence that lurked beneath the currently calm facade.
The doctor sprinted over, tossing Logan off of Madd Dogg and checking his pulse. "What in God's name are you doing? Fool! You'll burn the building down! God his pulse is racing. You could've killed us all! We don't know what is going on in his brain. The tiniest thing could bring him back to normal, or, God forbid, make him worse, and you're pushing him past the limit of....Dear God, what're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I haven't had this much fun in years!"
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"
"Nope. C'mon Dogg. We're going to sign you out of here. Grab your shit, we're heading out."
"Yes, Logan. Right away."
"MASTER. Don't forget to call me Master."
"Of course, Master."
Joe steps forward, putting his hand on Logan's shoulder, "Uh, Logan. This may be going a bit far..."
"NONSENSE. This is perfect. As for you Joe..,I think I just got an opening in my new circle of friends. After all, you did bring me my new toy. Grab your stuff, you're coming too. Better yet, MADD DOGG, grab my new buddy Joe's stuff!"
"Yes, master."
Logan slides his arm around Joe's shoulder and pulls him in tight. "From now on, you and me are buddies. You brought me Madd Dogg, so I'm going to bring you to the good times. You did it buddy. You did it."
"What'd I do?"
"You brought back the real Logan. It's time to show these boudles what Logan is all about." He stops and looks back at Madd Dogg, tossing him his keys. "Here, boudle, go get my car. It's three blocks down, and Joe and me, we don't wanna walk. Make it snappy."
"Yes master."
"Joe, this is going to be interesting. And it's all thanks to you. Let's go have some fun. Logan is back, and it's time WCF knew about it."
Several weeks ago.......
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"What the hell am I doing here?"
Logan's standing outside the entrance of a rundown hospital in St. Louis, watching half a dozen junkies squabble over a handful of bills in the alley, wondering what's become of his life, to where Seth is suddenly summoning him to the slums of some pissant town in the middle of no-one-gives-a-shit-ville. The reek of urine overpowers him and he staggers a few feet further from the alley, trying vainly to escape the stench.
"Where the hell are you, Seth? Cause this is exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend, smelling human waste in St. Louis. Not drinking or anything."
"You never were very patient, Logan."
"And who in the hell are you?"
Some loser's standing in front of him, a half smirk on his annoying little face. Talking to Logan like he mattered or something.
"Hi, I'm Joe Smith."
"The question was rhetorical boudle. I don't care who you are. I'm not here to sign autographs, take pictures, or make loser redneck friends. I'm waiting for Seth Lerch, and as soon as he gets here, I'm gone."
With a quick turn, Logan starts walking to the corner, away from this idiot, still standing there with his arm extended. As if Logan would ever dirty himself by shaking hands with this nobody. After a quick pause, as the less than welcome greeting sank in no doubt, the upstart spoke again. Some people just can't take a hint.
"Yea, Seth's not going to be here, Logan."
"Excuse me?"
"Seth's not going to be here. I sent the letter, not him."
He can't believe his ears. Not only does this schmuck think he's important enough to introduce himself, but he's sending letters dragging Logan to parts of the U.S. unfit to bury the homeless...
"You did what?"
"I sent the letter. As I was about to tell you..."
"Listen here, boudle..."
"What's a boudle?"
It takes the wind out of his sails only for a minute. Now this guy's interrupting him? That's it.
"Don't be a wise guy. Everyone knows what a boudle is...And that's not even the point. You wasted my time. You dragged me to a place I never wanted to be. You pretended to be my boss. This is why I'm sick of this job. The fans acting like I'm their friend, like I owe them something. 'Sign an autograph for my kid Logan. Let me put you in a headlock and take a picture, Logan.' To hell with all of you. I don't want anything to do with any of you. I just wanna sit back and coast. Do the bare minimum to get by until my contract expires, and then get out of this business once and for all. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the fans. I'm just tired. I just want to be done, and you fans, you're like leeches. You jsut keep sucking the life out of me. You take all I have to give and demand more. I don't have anymore. What do you want from me?"
They're both silent for a moment. Logan's outburst certainly isn't what this no one had in mind. Joe looks away from Logan, obviously uncomfortable, and stares at the cracks in the sidewalk for what seems like an eternity but is only a couple seconds. When he turns back, a smile has creeped across his lips.
"Logan, I think what I'm about to tell you is going to change all of that. I think what I'm going to tell you is going to make you love wrestling again. I think what I'm going to show you will make you the number one guy in WCF again."
Logan can't help but laugh. It's not the first time someone has come to him in his career and promised to change everything. Everyone thinks they're a genius. Everyone thinks their idea is the greatest thing to ever be thought up and that they've got the cure for what ailes you. He's heard every tired idea in the book. What the hell, why not one more?
"What'cha got for me boudle? A magic potion? Some beans? A genie in a lamp? Hell, son, I've beaten everyone. I've held every belt. I'm the only reason WCF is known for anything. Anything worth doing...I've done. No, scratch that. I've done everything, even the stuff not worth being done."
Again with the little half smirk.
"I can guarantee you haven't done this."
Without another word, Joe spins on his heels and strides confidently through the front doors of the hospital. Sheer curiousity alone leads Logan to follow, his legs matching Joe's stride before he even notices he's moving. They navigate the maze of nearly identical corridors swiftly, not pausing to look at the arrows at each intersection. The overwhelming antiseptic fumes can't fully mask the odors of rot, urine and death, only mask them. A constant hum eminates from the various machinery they pass, broken up only by the staggered beeps from the numerous heart monitors. A dozen or so turns later and Joe announces they're at their destination. With a sweep of his hand, he yanks back a curtain to reveal his revolutionary secret...what will "change Logan forever". Though he can't help but let a contemptuous little smile creep across his face, Logan nevertheless steps forward to see Joe's prize. Instantly, the smile vanishes.
"That...is that..."
"The one and only."
Even half obscured by an endless jungle of wires, Logan would recognize those patterns anywhere, the brown tan and gold tribal markings seeming to hover above the black cloth of the full body suit. Whereas anyone else would look frail, weak, connected to this many monitors, wrapped in this many wires...he still looks defiant and warrior like, dangerous, even in a drug induced sleep. It's been awhile but Logan remembers him well.
"Madd Dogg."
"Yep, I stumbled upon him a couple weeks ago when I was here visiting my mother. I figured that if anyone could benefit from this...it'd be you."
He almost didn't hear the door closing behind them.
"Oh, pardon me. I didn't expect anyone to be in here. Our patient here hasn't had any visitors since he arrived. I didn't mean to disturb."
The doctor is small, his frame no doubt accentuated by the ridiculously oversized lab coat, with the coke bottle glasses so think that they looked opaque from the overhead lights reflecting off of them, hiding the yees underneath. His features are sharp, his nose almost a beak, the lips thin and pursing, the ears far back on the head...just big enough to hold up the glasses. A glint from his bald head hit Logan in the eyes, causing him to have to shift a couple inches to the left, just to see again. Mottled knuckles adorned his fingers, making it look more like branches were protruding from his lab coat...not hands. As he looked them over, he moved his weight over one foot, then back again, almost doing a little dance as he studied them. On his left breast pocket, a small brozne name tag read Dr. Ian Singer.
Joe responded without missing a beat. "Not at all Doctor Singer. We were just wondering how long our friend had been here."
The doctor contemplated them for a moment before answering, doing his odd little hobble as he thought.
"He's been here for several months. Some concerned citizens found him wandering the streets, looking none too good and brought him here."
"Yea, Doc." Logan couldn't help but let his sarcasm color his voice. "Mind explaining how a guy in a full body costume and a mask 'doesn't look good'?"
"Well, it's not like our patient is a stranger. Millions of people saw him on T.V. for the better part of a decade. And he's something of a local celebrity to boot. When he wasn't acting like himself, a couple of people were concerned something was wrong, and they drove him here. He's been here ever since."
"Yea, great. So what's wrong with him."
"Well, physically...nothing. He's fit as a fiddle. Perfectly healthy."
"Stop wasting my time, Doc. Healthy people ain't in the hospital. Our boy is. What's the deal, boudle?"
Perhaps he just wasn't used to being talked to like that, or maybe it was just Logan's abrasive manner, but either way the Doctor stiffened, bristling at his treatment. Either out of anger, indignation, or pure shock, he managed to stammer out, "The problem isn't with his body. It's with his brain. He's not right in the head so to speak. Our patient is not well."
"Yea, he's a sick puppy, Doc. Everybody gets that. Anyone who's seen the Euthanasia Chamber knows he's screwed in the head. You hear it, Joe? Sick puppy? Madd Dogg? I'm a genius."
Unable to keep from rolling his eyes, Joe ignores Logan and takes up the line of questioning. "What exactly is wrong Dr. Singer?"
"Well, it's easier to show than explain. Let me wake him up." The doctor turns a knob and kinks a tube leading into Dogg's arm. The eyelids start to flutter almost immediately. "It takes an insane amount of seditive, a dangerous amount, just to put him to sleep. Keeping him in a state of relaxed sleep requires that level be kept constant. As soon as the drug flow stops, the effects begin wearing off. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen." Under a minute and Dogg's eyes are open, looking back and forth between the three men. As the doctor moves forward, Madd Dogg focuses on him. "Do you know who you are?"
There's a slight hint of a slur, what you might expect from someone who's been awake for a couple of hours after a night of heavy drinking, not someone who is minutes removed from almost fatal doses of various seditives, and powerful drugs.
But the response is immediate, "Yes. I am Madd Dogg."
"Where are you."
"Barnes Hospital."
Growing impatient, Logan lets it out, "Great, doc. He can answer simple questions. Truly ground breaking."
Ignoring him, Dr. Singer continues, "Are you happy to see me?"
A pause, but the answer is still quick, "Yes." The heart monitor shows a small spike in readings.
Logan again interjects, "Great. You're butt buddies. I get it."
"But what don't you hear?"
"Anything worth my time really. Look doc, I'm sure this is fascinating to someone, but it ain't to me."
"Come here. We'll show you more." Logan grudgingly moves over, and the doctor brings him to bed side. "Madd Dogg, do you know who this is?"
"Logan."
"Damnit, this is boring."
"Hold on, Logan. I think I understand what he's getting at..." Joe moves over. "Madd Dogg, do you like Logan?"
There's a long pause, but the word finally escapes his lips, like the breath of a dying man, "Yes." The beep on the heart monitor is frenzied, and the heart rate spikes, taking several seconds to go down.
The look on Logan's face is priceless. "What the hell? He doesn't like me..."
"Ask him a question. Something simple. Maybe something to get a rise out of him."
Hesitantly, Logan reaches out both hands, and flicks off Madd Dogg with both fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up boudle?" Ask soon as he's done asking, Logan pulls his hands back, out of Dogg's reach.
However, there's no reaction. Just a slight pause then the simple answer. "Two."
"Logan turns on the doctor, interest quickly replacing indifference, "What the hell is going on here? He should've broken both my hands...but he's not..."
"Not trying to? As I was saying. Notice what's missing from his voice. Anger, impatience, sarcasm, hatred, actually he's devoid of any emotion at all, except for an occasional happy note. He doesn't cuss, doesn't crack jokes, doesn't get short. There's no anamousity, no responses to stupid questions with mockery. If anything, he's unfailingly polite. He responds to stupid questions with kindness, sometimes smiling. And he now seems to have a desire to please. When prompted to do something, he responds with a simple yes, and performs the task. It's uncanny. He didn't even respond to your insult. I do assume boudle is an insult?"
"Boudle is a....hell, everyone knows what boudle means. So what're you saying to me Doc?"
"It seems Madd Dogg is not only incapable of responding with harsh words, not only incapable of saying mean and hurtful things, he is also completely unable to use violence, to be mean or hurtful in not only word, but deed. And this has somehow gotten to the point to where he seeks to be nice, to be kind and caring, to please people. He won't even say the word no."
"Wait, wait, he'll say yes to whatever I ask?"
"We have yet to find a question to which he'll respond in the negative, unless his answer would be hurtful by saying yes."
"Oh I have gotta try this." Logan walks over and grabs himself, "Hey, Madd Dogg, I bet you'd love to give my package a big kiss wouldn't you?"
A pregnant pause later, ".....Yes. I don't see why not."
"Oh, this is fucking gold. It's like when a tiger is declawed and defanged. This is better than every childhood Christmas combined! Well, Christmas always sucked as a kid, but you get my meaning! He's like a damned puppet. This is gonna be soooo much fun. I've got my very own loyal puppy."
Joe once again catches a small point that has escaped Logan in his zeal. "So, he won't attack anyone? Madd Dogg is completely harmless?"
Suddenly it dawns on Logan too. "Wait, I can't use him as an attack Dogg? Get it, Joe?"
"Yes, Logan, I got it."
"If he can't hurt people...what the hell good is he?"
The doctor pauses to pull off his glasses, wiping them with a small cloth, revealing a pair of small beady eyes, devoid of color. Breathing on the glasses, and wiping the condensation off, he slowly stammers out a weak answer. "Well, just because he can't wrestle anymore, it's not like his life is over. He can live a long life doing things to benefit the community, planting trees, doing service projects and...."
"Yea, doc, I get it. He can be a regular boy scout. Lovely. But him kissing babies ain't gonna do too terribly much for me, now is it?"
Once more, Joe sees an upside that Logan can't, "Wait, Logan. He doesn't have to be violent to be useful. Think about it. You have the most violent guy in WCF history at ringside with you. That in and of itself is a huge psych out, even if he doesn't do anything. They won't know he can't hurt them, and that gives you an edge. He can distract the ref, distract your opponent, slide you weapons...hell, the possibilities are endless. He'll do anything you ask."
"Hey, that's a good point."
"Dr. Singer, is there any chance that Madd Dogg is still in there? That he can see what's going on, is aware, but can't do anything about it?"
The doctor smiles at the question, patting Joe on the shoulder like the prize student who has all the right answers, "Good question, my boy. Yes, we're positive he's still in there. If you'll pay attention to the heart monitor..." Offhandedly, the good doctor gestured at the screen with his pen, so Logan and Joe could take notice of the rise and fall of the heart beat steady and even. "Madd Dogg. Would you say we are friends?"
"Yes, Dr. Singer. I'd say we are friends." The heart monitor began to beep unevenly as the rate changed dramatically.
"Are we good friends?"
"I'd say we are good friends." Now it was beeping like crazy as the monitor showed his heart rate spiking.
At this point, the Doctor left bedside to return to Logan and Joe. "I think that's enough of a demonstration. Before he gets truely aggitated. I'd say that not only is the real Madd Dogg still in there, not only can he see and hear what's going on, but he doesn't like it one bit. Being nice seems to almost cause him physical pain. You can see it in his heart rate, his blood pressure, and when we took scans of his brain, it lit up like a Christmas tree when he was forced to be nice."
Logan can't help but clap like one of those mechanical monkeys with the cymbols. "So, not only would I be able to control Madd Dogg, make him my slave, but I'd also be able to cause him pain by doing so?"
Doctor Singer frowns in disapproval. "Well, to force him to do things you know he wouldn't like would indeed cause him pain. But that would be unethical and..."
"Got it. The answer is yes. Thank you Doctor. Madd Dogg. Would you say I'm you're buddy?"
"Of course, Logan. We're buddies." The heart monitor starts going wild.
Logan can't help but give a mischievious wink and grin to Joe. "God he hates this." Back to Madd Dogg, "Do you love me, big guy?"
"Sure Logan. I love you, like a brother." The heart rate is no longer a rise and fall, peaks and lows. Now it is just a green screen as the waves are going too fast to be seen by the human eye.
"Priceless. But I bet it's not brothery love is it? It's probably gay love right?"
"You got me Logan. It is gay love." The machine starts to smoke from over exertion. Warning bells ring out, danger. Danger.
Joe takes the Doctor aside. "Now this change. It's perminant right?"
Dr. Singer shakes his head. "I have no clue. We don't know why this happened. It could've been that he snapped after losing to Cradle...or it could be that he's just so bloody evil that for the Universe to even out he had to be forced to be nice for a time. We have no clue either way. And since we don't know what caused it, we don't know what, if anything, will fix it. It could be perminent, or it could be changed by something as slight as a fly landing on his head. It's extremely tricky. God only know when or if he'll get better, and what it'll take."
Logan's really digging this, asking more and more humiliating questions. "How bout this, buddy? How bout you call me master? How bout it? Call your good buddy Logan, Master?"
"Of course Logan...I mean...Master."
The machine shakes for a moment before exploding. Sparks fly everywhere and the lights in the room go out in a massive power surge. As the emergency room lights bathed the room in an eerie red glow, Madd Doggs features twisted in the small flame dancing on top of the now defunct heart monitor, reminding everyone of the violence that lurked beneath the currently calm facade.
The doctor sprinted over, tossing Logan off of Madd Dogg and checking his pulse. "What in God's name are you doing? Fool! You'll burn the building down! God his pulse is racing. You could've killed us all! We don't know what is going on in his brain. The tiniest thing could bring him back to normal, or, God forbid, make him worse, and you're pushing him past the limit of....Dear God, what're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I haven't had this much fun in years!"
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"
"Nope. C'mon Dogg. We're going to sign you out of here. Grab your shit, we're heading out."
"Yes, Logan. Right away."
"MASTER. Don't forget to call me Master."
"Of course, Master."
Joe steps forward, putting his hand on Logan's shoulder, "Uh, Logan. This may be going a bit far..."
"NONSENSE. This is perfect. As for you Joe..,I think I just got an opening in my new circle of friends. After all, you did bring me my new toy. Grab your stuff, you're coming too. Better yet, MADD DOGG, grab my new buddy Joe's stuff!"
"Yes, master."
Logan slides his arm around Joe's shoulder and pulls him in tight. "From now on, you and me are buddies. You brought me Madd Dogg, so I'm going to bring you to the good times. You did it buddy. You did it."
"What'd I do?"
"You brought back the real Logan. It's time to show these boudles what Logan is all about." He stops and looks back at Madd Dogg, tossing him his keys. "Here, boudle, go get my car. It's three blocks down, and Joe and me, we don't wanna walk. Make it snappy."
"Yes master."
"Joe, this is going to be interesting. And it's all thanks to you. Let's go have some fun. Logan is back, and it's time WCF knew about it."
