Indy groaned. Not only had they shamelessly pilfered his life (he hoped they'd at least let him help direct or something), but they'd come up with the most ridiculous titles in history. "'Raiders of the Lost Ark'? 'Temple of Doom'?" he repeated incredulously. "Now I know this is some kind of sick joke. What kind of name is that? What does the second one even refer to, Pankot?"

The whole thing was starting to sound a little far-fetched to Indy. At first he'd been shocked into accepting the kid's statement at face value, but when he thought about it, there was nothing to suggest that the boy hadn't just gotten hold of his file somehow. Or that he wasn't working for Landel himself. It'd make sense to have moles in among the regular patients. If that was what this boy was, though, he wasn't too good at his job. As crazy as the idea of this stupid movie was, Indy was almost inclined to buy it.

"Listen, kid," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "I don't know what you're getting at with 'impression' and 'fictional.' I didn't even know there was a movie until two minutes ago. But I'm telling you, I'm the real Indiana Jones."

This morning he hadn't been all that concerned with whether Harvey Dent thought he was crazy--come to think of it, he still wasn't. If people didn't believe him about Landel's, fine; it was their problem. But there was something about having his own identity questioned that got Indy's back up.