Chapter Text
This torture was never ending.
It was worse than anything Bill had ever inflicted upon any living being.
“But how are you really feeling?” the formless blob of energy asked him. Their cat-eyed glasses and cardigan were floating loosely on top of the shifting gas cloud of a person.
Notepad and pink glitter pen in hand, the kind Mabel would like, they had been going on at this for hours. Or years. Or millennia.
“GREAT. I FEEL JUST PEACHY TIFFANY,” he said with all the barely constrained rage of an egomaniacal deity on their last strand. In spite, he had begun addressing every single faculty member with an obnoxious earth sounding t-name;
Good morning Thomas, how are ya Taylor, NICE WEATHER AM-I-RIGHT, TRAVIS?!?
Psychological warfare was his game after all! But, the results had been…Unsatisfactory, to say the least. Normally, he could get people on the edge with his quick mood changes, snappy comebacks and somewhat justified death threats. But...
People smiled at him here . Not nervous smiles, not happy ones either. Pitying, patient, patronizing smiles.
“Oh Bill, you forget! My name is;” the glorified air humidifier made a sound like soft bells and morning dew. “No matter, silly. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Your newest report says you’ve been indulging in some rather unsavory practices,” their fussy demeanor shifted into a slightly condescending green.
Bill hated the color green. It was a stupid and inferior color. Not even a primary.
“HAH- Tiffany-toodles, I wouldn’t call animal assisted therapy unsavory!” Bill cheerily scrunched his eye and flicked his hand with a dismissive motion “Besides, it was you guys who suggested this would be a good way to explore my emotional and cognitive functions !” The last part was practically dripping with venom. Bill’s slitted pupil stared directly at that of the entity in front of him.
“Yes, well-” they began again.
“Besides! You let me choose the animal! That’s on you T’s,” he contently leaned into his floating cushioned seat.
“Right, we were under the impression that a so-called ‘toddler’ was its own type of fauna, and not, in fact, a not yet fully developed form of intelligent life,” if the cloud had eyes to narrow they would’ve done so.
Bill snickered loudly.
“Admit it my floaty friend! It was hilarious” he gleamed a little, remembering the destructive chaos.
“See, Bill, these are the exact kinds of problems we need to be discussing. Did you ever stop to think how that youngling might feel? Being ripped away from its home, and placed in a totally new scary environment? With no one to support them?” a new, miffed and mellow blue shade had appeared. They leaned a little forward staring intently at him.
“HAHAHAhaha- ha- Come on! Do you think I care? Stuff like that builds character anyway. I did it a favor if anything” he crossed his arms, and checked his nails, feigning nonchalance.
The cloud sighed. How does a cloud even sigh?!
“Bill, do you have any-”
“-IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE” and suddenly he wasn’t in the therapist's office, he was being detained by the intergalactic authorities. “THEY’RE GONE. OH GODS, THEY’RE ALL GONE” and no, no it couldn’t be true. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he didn’t mean for it to happen- Please he- And he was in Stanford’s mindscape and Ford was young and beautiful and angry and hurt and “YOU LIED TO ME CIPHER” Well so what Sixer?!? He didn’t need him anyways, he didn’t need anyone. But then he never came back to him, and suddenly three decades had gone by and Bill didn’t need him per say, but he sure wouldn’t mind it if he came back, and then suddenly he was! In solid gold, in schakels, cursing Bill to the heavens, but there none the less. So feisty Fordsy, so angry, so spiteful, so him. Until, suddenly, he wanted the deal, wanted back in, and Bill was a gracious god, and everything could go back to normal and then STATIC-
“Bill? Bill? Are you with me?” an atmospheric appendage was waving in front of his eye.
He blinked. Ah. Right. The real world. Tsch.
“Yeah, yeah, get your vapor out of here. I’m fine. I SAID I WAS FINE” he snapped and lashed out, his hand going right through his therapist, knocking the floating glasses askew.
They didn’t even react, didn’t even flinch. “And you’re sure you’re not having another… episode?”
He hated that worried look on their mist. Bill was not some sickly patient, he was a high functioning sociopath. A narcissist with a flair for the dramatic and a raving lunatic and whatever labels they decided to put on him next.
Bill was gonna take that imbecile apart, molecule for molecule. He was gonna erase their very existence. He was gonna torture them until they begged-
“I’m. Not.” he managed, practically ripping the padding from his plush chair with his clawed hands. No. Bill was a professional. He could wait. He could seek out his chance. Sweet revenge was coming. On them and everyone who had contributed to him being locked away in this horrible and humiliating establishment.
Hey who said the anger management classes hadn’t been working?
“Right. Well as I was saying. You lack empathy and understanding for other beings. Thoughtfulness, Bill. Your actions have consequences, and on more than just yourself, you know” the cloud regained their composure, and took out another folder from Ax knows where.
Blah, blah, blah. It was this all day long. Please, tell him something he doesn’t know! Consequences are the fun part of actions. Why hit someone if you don’t want to see them squirm, why set something ablaze if you don’t want to see it burn. Hey! That had a nice ring to it, he should remember that-
“Bill, are you listening?” the cloud had turned a bright yellow shade, mirroring his own. They were tapping the pen rapidly on the paper.
Tap-tap-tap-taptaptapTAPTAPTATPAPTAP-
“Yeah, yeah, I’m horrible, I need to get better, don’t traumatise kids even though it’s loads of fun, got it,” he sent her curt disinterested look and started checking his nails again.
They looked at him, intently, shifting into this weird greyish color. They put their note book away and shifted in their non existent seat.
“Do you understand what guilt is, Bill?” they said calmly.
“DO I EVER! It’s the nagging part of a lesser being’s brain. The stuff that makes them weak and oh so easy to manipulate. Very flawed software, but hey, it sure makes it easy to work with!” he sighed contently at the fond memories.
Oh no, I accidentally killed my son! Please help me Mr. Cipher! I started a war over an aglet, help Mr. Cipher! My lunch turned out to be a whole race of intelligent ants, my karma is ruined, Mr. Cipher!
Sure, ya suckers! Anything for the right price-
“So you don’t believe yourself to be capable of guilt? You have no remorse for your actions?” the cloud inquired with what appeared to be genuine curiosity and perplexion.
“NOPE!” he said with a popping sound “I just remember my DRD! You know you therapy folks could actually learn a lot from my methods. You’ll be churning out rewired patients faster than they can scream!” He managed to say it with both the unwavering belief of a boy scout pledging their oath and a businessman selling a ware.
“DRD? Is that-”
“YEP, DENIAL, RATIONALISATION, DETACHMENT” he listed with three of his four thingers, suddenly up and engaged, like he was pitching a new musical. “Works like a charm every time!”
“Ahah,” the air humidifier hummed, “Well, I see the denial and rationalisation, but detachment? Your file says you have no living relatives, but from what I can see you’ve formed multiple meaningful relationships with other entities over the years-”
“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA- Back up Mr. Cumulus. I’M. A. GOD. I don’t have ‘meaningful relationships’ - I have people who serve me. Henchmaniacs and puppets and losers who cower before me,” Bill was rapidly turning a bright red shade. His slitted pupil was small, and staring right at the humid professional.
The therapist remained unfazed.
“And if you caused them harm? If they suffered because of you?”
“IF?! IF?! THAT’S WHAT THEY DO. ANYONE WHO’S DUMB ENOUGH TO FALL FOR ME- THEY HAVE IT COMING ALRIGHT?!”
He was floating up higher and higher now, but the effects of the prison made it impossible for him to change form or use any of his power.
“So you would be unaffected by, say, their death?” the therapist said, leaning back into the nothing supporting them.
“...WHATEVER. LESSER LIFE FORMS DIE ALL THE TIME” Bill froze a bit at that question, though he didn’t know why.
“Bill, are you aware how long you’ve been here?”
“What do you me-”
BOOOOOOOOM
He never got the chance to finish that sentence.