The side effects of the medication didn’t improve. Everything was slow. Constantly. Ambrosius couldn’t react to anything quickly - once while reading, he’d dropped his book, and it had taken several moments to register that it was no longer in his hands. There would be no way he’d be able to use a sword in this state - if he was allowed to stay a knight, he’d be stuck doing PR or a desk job for the rest of his life. That realization added to the constant memory of Ballister’s death sapped the life from him. He only half-listened in the therapy sessions. He barely ate. He avoided interacting with anyone if he could help it. He just wanted to be left alone while he tried to come to grips with the fact that his lover had deceived him.

Had he, though? Ballister’s words the night of the assassination echoed in his mind; ‘I didn’t do it - someone switched my sword.’ Why would he say that if murder had been his plan all along? How could he think he could get away with claiming he’d been framed for an obvious assassination?

Ambrosius wavered back and forth. Eventually, he decided he’d have to wait until he got out of the psych ward to figure it out. Nimona hadn’t been real, but that didn’t mean everything he’d ever thought he’d experienced had been fake. He could do his own research - for real this time. There had to be conclusive evidence somewhere. As long as he stayed on the meds and verified the results with someone reliable, he should be able to trust what he found.

He told the therapist as much - the medication made it too easy to share his thoughts. The therapist didn’t seem to think that was a valid goal. She didn’t say it outright, but she did try to help him find other things worth living for. At one point she recommended him getting an emotional support animal - an actual one. His dad wasn’t around to keep him from getting a dog if he wanted one, after all. None of that interested him. He just wanted to know if Ballister had been a liar.

The therapist only reminded him it was this kind of thinking that had landed him in the psych ward in the first place. The obsession wasn’t healthy - he’d have to move past it if he wanted his freedom back. Ambrosius, realizing how to game the system, said fine; he’d drop it if it got him out of here. The therapist didn't look convinced.

A few days after that discussion, Ambrosius woke up groggy. That was his first hint that something was wrong - side effects of his meds always wore off overnight, only returning with the breakfast pills. Then he noticed he couldn’t move, followed by the realization that he was sitting upright.

Ambrosius cracked his eyes open. Bright lights stung his vision. He flinched, then tried to open them again. He was sitting somewhere - was this a hallway? Suddenly, he started to move. The chair - or whatever he was resting on - coasted down the corridor. He wanted to get up, but when he moved his eyes, he noticed he was once again strapped down. Even his head was unable to move against the headrest

“He’s awake.” An unfamiliar voice said from behind him.

“Hurry up then.” Said another voice, out of view.

Ambrosius wanted to say something, but whatever sedative they’d put him on this time made that impossible. He could only watch, half-awake, as he was pushed down the hallway into another brightly-lit room. Someone put a sheet over his clothes as a buzzing noise filled the air. Something fell in his lap. A clump of hair. Blond hair. His hair.

Ambrosius let out a whimper as he tried in vain to move again. He wanted to get away. He wanted them to stop cutting his hair off!

A hand rested on his shoulder as the electric razor skimmed over his scalp.

“Shh… Shh, it’s ok. It’ll grow back.” A calm voice assured him.

Ambrosius didn’t feel very assured.

A few minutes later, he was back in the hallway, still strapped to the wheelchair. His senses were still dulled, but he knew his hair was gone. Now they were wheeling him off somewhere else, past doors and people milling around desks. Ambrosius couldn’t think clearly enough to process where they might be taking him, but he had a bad feeling about it. He could tell this wasn’t the mental ward - that place had smelled stale and empty while this place smelled of antiseptic and cleaners. Then a familiar voice passed by. Ambrosius couldn’t place it or catch what they were saying, but something about the fact it was here made him even more anxious.

The sedative was just beginning to wear off when he was pushed into another room. There was a glint of something shiny on a table - a scalpel. No, several scalpels. This was a surgical suite.

Ambrosius felt the straps come off, and he seized his chance - he bolted from his seat and towards the door… or at least, he tried to. He’d barely gotten to his feet before he toppled to the ground, still too drugged to stand.

Several sets of hands grabbed him and lifted him off the floor.

“You’re a lively one.” Someone stated as they set him on a padded platform.

The platform was oddly shaped - segmented to keep him slightly propped up while laying down. He tried to resist, but one of the orderlies stuck an IV in his arm and a few seconds later, Ambrosius felt completely numb and paralyzed. The workers arranged his limp limbs out of the way and covered his body with a thin blanket before leaving the room.

Ambrosius didn’t know how long he was left there. He was still only partially awake, but he was aware of strange equipment around him, and in the direction he was facing, he could see a dark window at the other end of the room. Several people were sitting behind it, their silhouettes just visible. One in particular got his attention. Who was…?

Suddenly, Ambrosius connected one of the silhouettes with the familiar voice from before. It was The Director. He didn’t have time to wonder what she was doing there before a group of people entered his room. There wasn’t a way to see them from his angle, but he could hear them. They clustered around him, all talking jovially.

“The last of the Goldenloins!”

“Which music should I play?”

“Pick a winner.”

“Just don’t kill this one haha!”

“Guys this is serious.”

“He still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Soft music began to play from somewhere as the voices grew serious. Ambrosius couldn’t make it all out. Then they stopped. There was a muffled thudding noise coming from the other side of the room.

“What in Gloreth’s name—” Someone started, only to be cut off by the sound of glass shattering as the room’s window came crashing inwards.

Something huge climbed through the now-open window and gave a beastly roar. Human yells and shrieks of terror rang out as the creature came bounding towards them. Ambrosius wanted to scream too, but couldn't. The creature towered over him, then reached down and yanked the IV from his arm. A moment later, Ambrosius finally recognized what the creature was; a gorilla. A pink gorilla.

“Brain surgery’s canceled!” it announced in Nimona’s voice. Then she threw him over her shoulder and burst out of the room and down the hall.

Ambrosius struggled to process what was happening. Nimona was here, and other people were reacting to her. Was any of this real? Or was it another massive hallucination since he hadn’t had his morning pills? The feeling began to return to his limbs and he felt the pain from where Nimona had ripped out the IV. It sure felt real. And if it was helping him escape the hospital… well, he wouldn’t fight that.

A loud ringing sound echoed down the hallway as alarms began to go off. Nimona skidded to a stop at a cross between hallways.

“Ohhh… crud. Which way is out…”

She set Ambrosius down. He tried to stand, but his legs crumpled beneath him. He held onto Nimona’s arm instead. Just then, something whistled past his ear. He looked around. One of The Director’s guards was aiming a crossbow at them.

“Guard…” Ambrosius tried to point weakly as another dart narrowly missed Nimona.

“I guess that settles it!” Nimona scooped Ambrosius back up and barrelled down the other hallway, out of the line of fire.

There was a staircase at the end of the hall.

“Perfect!” Nimona shifted into a large monkey and tossed Ambrosius over the railing, swinging down after him. She grabbed him several times on her descent, swinging him into the air so he wouldn’t fall too fast.

A door several floors below burst open as the sound of armored feet filled the stairwell.

“Looks like we're getting off here!” Nimona swung Ambrosius onto a landing and pulled him through the door. “Hold on!”

She threw him onto her back and shifted into a horse, cantering down the hallway. It was all Ambrosius could do to hang on.

“Elevator…” Ambrosius pointed down the hallway.

“You’re joking, right?”

“… won’t expect it. Hiding spot.”

“Fair point.”

Nimona shifted into a teen, dropping Ambrosius into her arms as she kicked the elevator button. The doors opened with a ding, and she pushed him inside. Ambrosius slumped against the wall as the doors closed, still foggy and regaining control of his limbs. Nimona hit the ‘ground floor’ button, and they began their descent.

They rode in silence for a minute. Ambrosius gingerly touched the spot where the IV had been, which was rapidly turning into a large bruise. He closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away. That should work if it were a figment of his imagination, right? It didn’t work. His brain was still too foggy from the sedative.

The elevator jolted to a halt. The lights cut out. They were still five floors up.

“Aw come on!” Nimona whined.

She forced the doors open with bear claws. The cabin had stopped partway between floors. They had just started to climb down onto the lower floor when the sound of metal-clad footsteps filled the hallway. Upper floor it was, then.

They hurriedly pulled back into the elevator cabin. Nimona shifted into a cat and sprang up the walls, into the gap between the cabin ceiling and the floor above. Then in human form, she reached an unusually long, muscular arm back into the cabin.

“Grab on!”

Ambrosius did, but something else grabbed his ankle and yanked him to the floor.

“Boss!” Nimona’s voice rang out.

The knight who’d pulled Ambrosius down had gotten himself halfway into the cabin. Ambrosius kicked at him, but it was no use. Then he saw the knight’s sidearm was within reach, the knight’s hands too busy both holding onto him and climbing into the elevator at the same time. Ambrosius curled his legs in, bringing himself closer, and grabbed the small crossbow with clumsy hands. Years of weapons drills kicked in, making him just fast enough to flick the safety off before the knight realized what had happened. Ambrosius fired a shot into the knight’s armor, the force of the impact knocking him away.

“Nice!” Nimona exclaimed, now in the form of a giant octopus. She wrapped a several arms around Ambrosius’s torso and hoisted him up onto the upper floor. Ambrosius still had the crossbow in his hands.

The upper floor was quiet for the moment. Then the stairwell door at the end of the hall burst open and guards came pouring through.

Ambrosius felt a familiar leash wrap around his wrist and jerk him around the nearby corner… and into an empty waiting room that ended in a locked door. Nimona, in the form of his emotional support dog, looked around in panic. Wrong turn. A blast of an energy bolt whizzed past them.

“Cover!” Ambrosius called, falling back on his training as he clambered behind a large desk at the side of the room, Nimona on his heels.

Nimona made a sharp gasping noise as the crackle of electricity filled the air. Ambrosius turned back. Nimona had fallen to the floor, electricity sizzling in a net-like shape around her. She snarled angrily and shifted larger. The netting broke, and she crawled toward the desk in a half-formed, four-legged state. Then another sizzle of electricity engulfed her and she collapsed.

Ambrosius watched from behind the desk. He could see the knights round the corner. He fired off several shots with his crossbow - all hits, despite his wobbly hands. If there was one thing he was good at, it was crossbow. The knights in pursuit fell back around the corner.

Hallucination or not, Ambrosius didn’t like seeing Nimona down and vulnerable in the open. He tugged on the leash still attached to her harness, but she was dead weight.

“Smaller… Get smaller!” he gasped.

Shakily, Nimona shifted down to a slightly more manageable size. Ambrosius started to drag her back behind the desk, but a third round of electrified netting wrapped itself around her, courtesy of a knight who’d stepped around the corner. Ambrosius fired the crossbow at the knight - a perfect shot that sank into a weak spot in the knight’s armor. The knight fell back out of sight.

Ambrosius pulled Nimona to safety behind the desk. She lay on the floor next to him, twitching under the effects of the netting. She kept trying to shift larger to get it off, but the three rounds had taken a toll and she couldn’t get to a larger size. Ambrosius wanted to tear it off himself, but just touching the net gave him a realistically painful shock no matter how hard he tried to will it away.

“We’ve got them cornered, but he has a weapon!” the report of a knight drifted across the room.

Ambrosius looked around. They were trapped… Almost. There was a full-length window across the room from them, but it was solid glass without a latch. Even if he could get out the window without getting hit, it was a long way to the ground. Ambrosius closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be trapped here. He wanted to wake up. He tried to imagine himself back in his bed at the psych ward, but when he opened his eyes again, he was still behind the desk. …Was this reality?

“What’s wrong, Ambrosius?” The Director’s calm voice came from across the room. “Why are you running? Come out and we can talk.”