The bland hospital room was a suffocating prison, which was exactly why Henry was attempting to escape. Being idle was not a strong point of his, always wanting to be useful. More than ever now, he felt the urge to be running around doing something, which raised some questions about his lifestyle that he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted answers for. He needed to compensate for being a burden with his lost memories, which he could achieve by helping Dr Synecdoche, which he knew he was qualified for with his many, usually useless, doctorates. He tugged on his crisp dress shirt and pants along with a crimson waistcoat, making sure he was presentable and more blended in for his breakout. However, a sense that he had forgotten something important that he should have known even with his memory loss was nagging in the back of his head. He was on edge as he exited his hospital room to say the least.

Henry crept down the chequered and eerily immaculate hallways, a patchwork of ivories that were more like a labyrinth than a hospital. The scent of sanitiser was so overpowering out here that he near gagged, edging further down the hall and eventually adjusting to the strong aroma. The hallways were surprisingly empty. He would have thought that a hospital in the 2000's would be bustling with alarmed family members and frantic doctors, not barren as if the setting of a shilling shocker. He snuck around another corner and came face to face with an impossibly tall and slightly green person. Their eyelids and mouth were peppered with a barrage of tiny holes, lank string winding through the gaps but were cut off at the end as though the creature's orifices were once sewn together, the string ends now acting as some form of whiskers. The faded lime creature curiously towered over Henry's tall frame, clothed by bloodstained surgical scrubs, their stretched mask dangling from their neck, not bearing a good omen for their last patient. Henry supposed they worked here.

"Hello, how are you?" He greeted the creature cheerily, holding out a hand. The creature's sinewy fingers clasped his own, icily shaking it in a vaguely unpleasant manner that Henry wasn't going to allow to wipe the polite smile off his face.

"I'm fine," the creature rasped doubtfully and rudely, their voice rough, yet high and nasal. "I'm Dr Nye. Are you new here?" Henry felt some sort of pity rise in him for the green person, who was obviously unaccustomed to friendly behaviour. He grinned excitedly, much to the surprise of Dr Nye.

"Yes. My name is Henry. What do you specialise in? I was wondering if I could be of any help around here?" He was eagre to know what this doctor worked on. Surely someone such as them would work on things just as interesting as they appeared.

"I specialise in the soul. I'm trying to locate it so I can dissect and understand it," they replied swiftly yet crackly, as though it were not them speaking but a glitching android. A spark of passion ignited within Henry's chest.

"I can definitely help you with that! I also work on the soul. I'm more fixated on the purification and separation of it though." He could see the mutilated features of Dr Nye light up, delighted that they found someone that shared their obsession.

"Have you located it yet?" It almost interrogated him in their vigour. "Have you been able to split a soul yet?" It leaned in, placing its tray of surgical utensils on a cart with a brief symphony of clangs.

"I have actually! You see-!" Dr Nye cut him off, not with any rudeness but with a thoughtful expression that indicated they needed somewhere more private to discuss this. The creature's countenance also bore a strange mixture of being impressed but concerned.

"Follow me, we can retire to my office and you can show me where the soul is." They beckoned to Henry with that sickly corrugated hand of theirs, and started down the hall, robes fluttering. Henry eagerly trailed along; a sense of unease lay just out of his grasp as if another one of his forgotten memories. He wondered if he knew this creature and if he did, did Dr Nye recognise him? They soon neared a metal door the colour of an approaching storm, which Nye flung open with the manner of a graceful barbarian.

"In here," Nye hissed, not waiting for Henry as they barged into their office. Henry edged in warily, the neurotic orderliness of the instruments coupled with the griminess smeared across the space would appal any health inspector and began to churn his stomach in unease. The area felt familiar like something he had always wanted to forget. As Nye whisked various models and maps from the stern cupboards invading the back wall, Henry inspected the office, getting Déjà vu from the various pickled organs and body parts adorning the shelves like sick trophies, feeling the chill of the office trickle down his spine, and trying not to inhale the sickly sweet rot that oiled it's way across the floor and mingled with the grotesque jars. A tingling began at some point on his scalp, a little nagging feeling. Henry thought nothing of it before it escalated. A wave of heat threw up over him. A knife jutted through his skull. It ached and throbbed. He grasped his bandaged wound. His eyes squeezed shut. His head was hot and sticky.

A bright light sped and flashed under his eyelids. Images struck him, breaking the string. An old woman. Anger and fear swelled at the sight of her. A scarred face, sobbing. He stumbled backwards, overwhelmed with guilt. Something pressed against his back. The flashes intensified. Silver hair. Black car. Author. Red hand. Flames. Screaming. So much screaming. It rose in his head. Filled it with hot, licking fiery screams. Piercing and torturous. Rage. So much rage. Malicious green eyes. The eyes glared at him. They jibed and mocked. They told him he was fake. Fake, fake, fake!

Something grasped his wrist. He was in an office, not a fire. His eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. The tornado of memories and emotions retracted back into his body. The weapon lodged in his brain melted away to a mere throb. He heaved, relief to be back in reality the only emotion he could distinguish in his turmoil. He was vaguely aware of two people shouting. For a few moments he just focussed on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The endless abyss of feelings began to dissipate until he was calm. It was if nothing had happened. He became aware again, vision focussing on the two people arguing. He glanced down and saw the human hand gripping his wrist.

"What were you doing to him!?" Ghastly shrieked, furious at Doctor Nye. Seeing his scarred face made him feel ill with guilt, and terrified. Were they really friends? His new flashes of memory made that seem doubtful.

"I did nothing!" The concerned and attacked creature shrieked. It looked somewhat offended at the accusation. Its protests did nothing to placate the scrunched-up features on the prosecuting party's irate face. Henry shifted nervously. Was Ghastly trying to lull him into a false sense of friendship before exacting revenge?

"Likely story! Do you really expect me to trust you after all you've done?! I should have known you'd be so low as to take advantage of him!" What would Ghastly even want revenge for? Henry's confusion grew at the offhanded thought.

"He came in here of his own accord!" Nye rebutted. Henry placed a hand on Ghastly's back. He might as well play along with the friend act just in case they were friends. His memory could have just been out of context.

"It's true," Henry began, a little anxious as both sets of eyes furiously locked on him. "We came here to compare notes. I was just trying to help." Nye gestured at Henry as if to say, 'See! I am trustworthy.' Ghastly raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"What exactly do you have notes to compare on?" He squinted, as if analysing his companion's face would reveal he was lying or that he was blackmailed into his answer.

"The soul-" Nye began. Ghastly held up a well-toned boxer's hand, cutting the doctor off.

"Shut up. I want to hear it from him, not you," he stated, calmly with an undertone of contempt and impatience. Henry nodded.

"Nye's right. We were going to compare notes on the soul, but I think I had a flashback of sorts." He nervously kept eye contact with the man, not wanting to seem guilty by looking away. Ghastly finally relented, breaking his gaze, and sighing. He looked sorrily back at Dr Nye.

"Sorry," he winced. "I just assumed-" Nye flapped one of his inhuman hands.

"It's fine. I understand your reasoning. Now," It stared hungrily at Henry. "We would very much like to return to our conversation." Ghastly moved protectively in front of his charge.

"Uh, no. He's coming with me. Just because you haven't done something yet doesn't mean you still won't," he glared at the doctor. "I don't exactly like, or trust, you." Henry opened his mouth to protest but Nye lurched forward in an attempt to snatch him away from Ghastly. Ghastly took a well-timed step backwards, Nye yanking at empty air. The creature snarled in frustration.

"Give me Henry!? What's he to you!?" Nye hissed animalistically, before seeming slightly desperate. "If you take him away now, I'll never get this opportunity again!" Henry could see and feel Ghastly begin to properly lose his temper, the boxer's grip on his wrist tightening as if the man were trying to curl his fingers into a fist.

"I'm not going to trust my best bloody friend in the hands of mad scientist!" Nye seemed emotionally unphased, but Henry inhaled sharply and yanked himself away from the now hostile grip of Ghastly. He took the defensive side, giving the scarred, bulky man a stern glare.

"And what's wrong with being a mad scientist?" Henry sounded genuinely offended much to Ghastly's bewilderment. Perhaps Ghastly was his enemy?

"Henry, you don't know the sorts of things mad scientists do! They're bad people." He held the tone of a man trying to explain to and placate a small child, which only increased the offense Henry was feeling. Henry jabbed his thumb towards himself.

"I'm a mad scientist!" He contradicted. Ghastly's face went slack and silence filled the room. Henry turned back around to face Dr Nye. He leaned over the creature's sleek concrete desk, unrolling a poster of a body. "Let's continue our conversation. The soul is in the entire body, sometimes surrounding it like a cloud." He circled a finger around the entire diagram, gesturing to the whole body. "If you change the soul, you change the body and mind, and vice versa." Nye nodded at him, thoroughly invested in the conversation.

"But how would you go about changing the body and mind while still keeping the entire original soul and body so as not to lose parts of it?" Henry smiled.

"Ah, you see-" He was cut of by Ghastly grabbing his wrist again and going to drag him out the door.

"Henry, we're leaving." Nye looked slightly vexed that his new assistant was being hauled out of his office but his thirst for knowledge seemed to be satiated for now. He looked up and genuinely smiled at Henry.

"Please visit again soon," he rasped gratefully. The door slammed as the two exited the office, Ghastly towing the resurrected mad scientist through the halls with him, shaking his head and occasionally mumbling to himself something remarking secrets and science. Henry stumbled along in a perturbed near-silence. He dragged him back to his hospital room and gave him look that was a melange of sternness, fury, concern, and pity.

"In future, stay away from Dr Nye. He's not the type of character you'd want to interact with." He softly warned.

"He seemed all right to me. I think you're just judging him on the way he looks." Ghastly gave him an incredulous stare. Henry didn't see what he'd said wrong. It was only the truth.

"I know you've lost your memories, but that Crengarrion is a war criminal. He's tortured and dissected so many of our finest soldiers and friends. I, of all people, am not judging him based on appearance. I'm judging him based on what he's done to hurt us." He walked over to the door. "Next time you want to help, please just stay in your room. We're worried about you. I'll get Dr Synecdoche to patch up your head. It's bleeding again." As Ghastly left the room, Henry touched the back of his vibrating head, his fingers once again coming away coated in a thick, sticky scarlet. Henry winced.

---

Ghastly felt his knuckles contact the rich dark oak of Synecdoche's office door. The lady in question answered it impossibly quickly, ushering the tailor into a plush emerald chair. She wove her long fragile fingers into a net pattern and rested her chin upon it. Ghastly took a deep breath, trying to slow the fevered thumping of his shocked heart. He couldn't believe Skulduggery would be so stupid. Comparing notes with Dr Nye? Being a mad scientist? What other things had he done that he didn't care to mention? He focussed back on the impatiently waiting doctor with the tapping foot.

"Skulduggery needs his head rebandaged." He chocked back some tears of worry for his best friend. "He- He claimed to be a mad scientist during a trip to Nye's office. He must have had a series of flashbacks and gripped his wound." He covered his mouth. "That's... that's good right? Please tell me he's going to be OK." Synecdoche sighed and put down the pen she had been capping and uncapping during Ghastly's update.

"I don't know if he'll be OK. He definitely won't be if this sort of thing happens again. I'll get volunteers to constantly monitor him to prevent another 'misadventure.'" She looked Ghastly in the eyes and smiled sympathetically. "Thank you for telling me this. I'll make sure he gets better."

Ghastly moved his head in agreement and left the office, mildly shaking.