Message 4

[Red Cell Rising]

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A crackle of static, a burst of white noise and the echoes of the madhouse surround a silent man leaning against the wall. His fingers trace across the wall, leaving liquid smears in the shape of numbers that scroll across the plaster in badly tilting lines.

He nods vacantly, staring into space before he murmurs.

The kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains;
And said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth upon the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb:
For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?

The camera drew back as the man started to laugh, his insane howls echoing as the shadowy form of a throne in the center of the floor was revealed. The throne seemed to be made from the wreckage and refuse of the asylum, and the madman fell to the floor as he yelled again as the nurses tried to drag him off.

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