Psy-Kick

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Laggy Lagiacrus, Jun 24, 2012.

  1. ((OOC
    Please post signup form in the OOC. This is not a jump-in RP.))

    "Now, Mr... Snow, was it? We have examined your problem, and what you have described to us as your current mental state, and we have also examined it on our own. We have decided that we will take your case."
    The room was bereft of much in the way that conveyed professionalism, notable in the lack of actual government-approved license possessed by any of the practitioners - or, indeed, their manager. No certificates hung on the sky-blue walls, no psychology books were displayed in the oaken bookcase at the far right. The mahogany desk and chairs were easily acquirable in a cheap furniture store, and the wood panelling could have done with a slight tune-up. Regardless, the treatment received was the only real thing that mattered to the patients, considering that they would essentially be in a comatose state for the duration of the Mind-Mappers' stay.
    Dressed in a charcoal-grey suit and suit trousers, the male addressing the potential client looked more like a businessman, than the manager of various psychics. Though, this was what he was, and as he straightened the blood-red tie he donned, he seemed to exude power. His mid-length, smartly-combed hair may have been greying, and creases may have begun to invade his permanently-stern, stoic face, but it could be seen in his dark brown eyes - this was a man not to upset. "Our... Surgeons, for lack of a better word, will be introducing themselves now. It's less harrowing in here than it is there."

    As if on cue, Lee Browning let himself in, not even bothering to knock as he adjusted his collar on the way in, surveying the room as he never ceased to do, every time he entered. Standing straight, a vague sense of professionalism detectable in his manner, he awaited instructions, remaining silent and steadfast until directions were issued. After being told that he and his colleagues would be introduced after they had all assembled in the room, he relaxed slightly, though not bothering to even change his facial expression in doing so - as if he had forgotten his face should match what his body does, to appear convincing.
     
  2. A slight and pale figure seemingly glided in behind Lee, drifting off to the man's left. His eyes didn't raise to meet Mr. Snow's, instead taking the time to let his eyes wander over the man's face, mapping the lines and shapes that made up their client. "...Very round." He mumbled to no one in particular, before letting his gaze drop away to the floor, as if the man in front of him had lost his interest. An irritable frown crossed the young man's face, thin fingers rising up to brush stubborn locks of red out of his eyes. There was a brief thought that he ought to get a haircut, but it was quickly replaced with thoughts on the impending mission they would be preforming. Would this man's mind be a simple search and destroy mission? A cast of simple monsters? He didn't seem to be hiding anything as serious as a mental illness, but you could never be too sure with people. Once, he would like to have a simple mission without running into something unexpected.
     
  3. Following the two men, September strode in, tipping her chin up a little. Her mousy hair is tied back, cascading down her back. Closing her eyes as she takes her position, she imagines all the 1's and 0's that would make up the place, should the room be turned into a picture and placed into a computer. This action was done simply to alleviate boredom, but it seemed aloof, as if she didn't want to look at the man named Mister Snow. However, when she reopened her eyes, she nodded in his direction, the only thing she had done to recognize his being there. Absentmindedly, the young woman bit at a fingernail, a habit she tended to do right before a mission. Knowing it wouldn't look good to the client, she shoves her hands into her pants pocket, her left hand toying with the watch in her pocket. After a second of perfect posture and professionalism, September sighed, resting her back against the wall. This whole "professionals" thing didn't quite work with her most of the time.
     
  4. Boone came into the room shortly after all the other members. Her auburn hair was teased in coiffed into a bed head ponytail with an intimidating pompadour. Her make up concealed the tired bags under her eyes but her eyes themselves told everything. She shifted her gaze to the client as she closed the door behind her. Her brows furrowed into a scowl. Just another psychotic it seems. Boone took her spot at the end of the line, she smirked and thought privately to herself : Saving the best for last.

    Boone stood straight, shoulders back, a wide stance -- overall she held the body structure of an incredibly intimidating being. Her arms hung open at her sides, a sign of strength, and her chest dipped only on the exhale. She kept her scowl on the client and began wondering what awaited the team in his mind. She enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with the missions. The risk and the excitement. The fighting. It was more like a game than a...surgery.
     
  5. "Now then, Mr Snow. I would introduce them, but quite frankly, it's not needed. Now, if you'll follow Mr Browning to the procedure room..."
    The team and the patient were waved off, with Lee making his way to the afore mentioned room, the one in which - in someone's words, the name of whom escapes him - "where the magic happens." It happened to be just down the derelict corridor not untidy, but barren of anything to decorate it, and provide a business-like atmosphere. Nor did it relax anyone due to its simplicity - the starkness of it all actually came as a shock to some people, who expected more gaudy items, considering the pay that was extorted. The procedure room, however, seemed slightly sinister, at the very least. Though the walls were sterile and cleaned thoroughly, it was the simplicity of it all that struck most people. A dentist's chair sat in the dead centre, though where one's arms or legs would be, there were straps to bind a patient to the chair. Several more black seats, all with cushioned leather, all surrounded it, providing ample means of observation for the Mind Mappers doing so. Snow was ushered into the room, and instructed to lie on the bed and relax.
    A little hard for him, as he was being strapped into the chair and stopped from any form of physical escape, but he attempted to nonetheless.