See Fear

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    An Outlast roleplay with Sansa Stark and Munchkin.

    the world outside remains barred off, secluded from the horrors within. For years, the MURKOFF
    Psychiatric System has taken root in this once-abandoned house of insanity and warped into a
    beast all its own, deeper, darker. Mixing science with the satanic and utilizing pure psychosis
    would be considered taboo for some, impossible for others, but for the employees high in the
    chains of MURKOFF it is only the beginning. Phase one. The secrets contained within the files
    and minds and patients of this unholy facility could bring all their hard work crumbling down.
    MURKOFF will stop at nothing to see their research preserved, whatever the cost.

    However, things have changed. The families of employees report their missing family members
    and cryptic emails have reached the account of Detective Inspector Alistair Scott, who had
    been following MURKOFF's trail for decades. Assembling a team of six highly-skilled people to
    assist in his search for the truth, he approaches St. Michael's asylum with a heavy heart, the
    knowledge of malpractice on his mind, and no fucking clue of the terror he will discover.

    "See Fear" was written in blood on the walls. It seemed that fear itself would visit them that
    night, until the dawn came and insanity would be unleashed once more.




    AGE: Twenty-one

    HEIGHT: 5'5''

    WEIGHT: 127lbs

    OCCUPATION: Investigative Journalist

    PERSONALITY: Fiery and passionate, Sophie is determined to catch the story whenever it arises and resilient in her drive for truth. She is typically hard at work, never stopping until the desired end result is achieved. This makes her persistent to the point of a fault, which is considered a bad thing as she is still young and new in the field, but she has no restraints. Outside the job, she is bubbly and filled with joy, claiming many friends as close to her heart. She is friendly and compassionate.

    BACKSTORY: Sophie grew up in a relatively normal life in the United Kingdom, specifically the London suburbs, until the year she turned fifteen. Her best friend went missing and was recovered two weeks later, hacked into bloody pieces and left on Sophie's front door. The police determined that her dear friend was raped and mutilated before being butchered, but the suspect in custody escaped justice during a trial that stunk of manipulation and false testimony. She decided then that the only way to bring peace to her friend and many others who had been wronged by the incapabilities of the police was to conduct her own investigations and make her discoveries known to the public. She graduated a year early from Oxford with a degree in Journalism and high recommendations from her peers. Shortly thereafter, she began following the impressive trail of Detective Inspector Alistair Scott, wondering if he might be the man she was looking for to help solve her friend's case. Seeing he was working on something new, however, she decided to investigate, which leads her to the front doors of St. Michael's Asylum in Boston.

    CURRENT COLOR: Sea green


    AGE: Thirty-three

    HEIGHT: 5'7''

    WEIGHT: 145lbs

    OCCUPATION: Neuroscientist

    PERSONALITY: Julia is a cold and stoic woman, preaching facts over everything else and never backing down from stating her opinion. She is intense in her studies and field of work, and prefers to be the leader of the group whenever such projects are applicable. She is relentless and ruthless though there is a hint of compassion in her as well, though one must earn such privileges with her.

    BACKSTORY: Julia was an only child and was raised by a rich family in upstate New York, graduating from Stanford with a full degree in neuroscience at the age of nineteen. After accomplishing her PhD, Julia continued to find work at various institutions studying mental health and how it effects the brain, something she herself is passionate about. After great success in launching a new medication for schizophrenia and better treatment for those with multiple personalities, she was called upon by Detective Inspector Scott to work with him on his new case. She was eager to accept.



    AGE: Thirty-nine

    HEIGHT: 6'3"

    WEIGHT: 240 lbs

    OCCUPATION: Film director

    PERSONALITY: Fred is a calm and quiet man, not enjoying conflict in the slightest though he is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He has a wonderful sense of humor and is sought out during times where one needs advice from a friend. He has a very creative mind and a pleasant aura to be around. Most of his friends can say they feel calmed in his presence. Fred is friendly and likes to give his opinion should he feel it helps the situation.

    BACKSTORY: After getting a degree from Berkeley in directing, Frederick fulfilled his dream and directed a few indie films that never made it to the big screen--the low-key atmosphere was typically what he enjoyed most. The films he worked on received plenty of awards and he enjoyed the process of making them, but he still felt like he was lacking something in his career. He decided to go further into the documentary world. When Alistair Scott gave him a phone call about a new and potentially groundbreaking project, he was absolutely on board.

    CURRENT COLOR: Light sky blue



    AGE: Forty-three

    HEIGHT: 6'5''

    WEIGHT: 250lbs

    OCCUPATION: Detective Inspector

    PERSONALITY: Alistair has been toughened up by his 15 or so years on the police force. He's seen a lot of things that will change a man, but he hasn't quite let them get to him. He believes what doesn't kill him makes him stronger. He never flinches when he has to pull the trigger. He has had to kill men, and women alike. While he changes with each case, he believes he changes for the better. Each case leaves him a better detective. He attempts to approach each case with a blank, open mind. Creativity, and thinking outside the box have been the difference between solving a case and letting it grow cold. While he's a tough man, brave, and bold, he has a soft side. He cares for the innocent and the abused. He has a particular soft spot for women. It hurts him every time he sees a woman being exposed to violence or abuse of any kind. Part of that stems from his undying love for his mother. While he has all these sensitivities, they don't show much. He is a very logical man.

    BACKSTORY: Born and raised in Scotland, Alistair received an undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice, went on to the Police Academy, and eventually climbed the latter up to Detective Inspector. He grew up in a broken home, and was raised by his mother, who was a prominent figure in his life until she died just as he entered the police force at age 25. She died of cancer. He didn't take it too hard. It was a sickness she had been battling for years. Her mother left him on good terms. And even as a roughened 42 year old hunk of muscle, the thought of his mother telling him how proud she was of him warms his heart.



    AGE: Seventy-five

    HEIGHT: 5'10''

    WEIGHT: 190lbs

    OCCUPATION: Psychiatrist

    PERSONALITY: Dr Bray's years of study have somewhat dulled him of the kind of compassion a doctor new to the field would feel. He's had many patients, and while many have had recovery he has had his fair share of losing patients. He is still a caring man, but emotions and attachments won't get in the way of his work. While he genuinely cares for his patients, suicide and insanity is something he deals with every day.

    BACKSTORY: Dr. Bray has been working in the field of psychology and psychiatry for about 40 years now. He went to med school and got his doctorate at the young age of 21. Ever since he has been known as a genius in his field. The police department regularly calls him in about cases involving psychotic killers or traumatized witnesses. He has helped Alistair through many cereal killer cases. They are true friends, and have both seen many terrible things together. Dr Bray was more than willing to help Alistair on this case. Being a doctor in the field, he feels a certain connection with the asylum. Having heard rumors and dark myths, he craves to know the truth, and his knowledge of the human mind can help reveal that truth.

    CURRENT COLOR: Red Violet


    AGE: Twenty-two

    HEIGHT: 4'10"

    WEIGHT: 110 lbs

    OCCUPATION: Student/Photographer

    PERSONALITY: Sue is quiet and reserved, especially when she is working behind the camera. She has a talent for a steady hand and she gets into the action. She enjoys her job, and is very loyal to her job, contract, and whoever her client is.

    BACKSTORY: Sue grew up in an Asian-American home, and has always had high standards set for her. She recently finished school at an art and design university, getting a degree in photography. She also studied journalism. She has taken odd jobs here and there and through that she met Alistair and they became acquainted. He asked her to accompany him and the team on their way to the asylum. She was hesitant, but learning that this case could turn out to be something huge, she decided to say yes.



    AGE: Twenty-four

    HEIGHT: 5'5''

    WEIGHT: 122lbs

    OCCUPATION: Patient

    PERSONALITY: Quiet, reserved, afraid, and reluctantly obedient to superiors. She does what she'd told, and she's learned to do what the doctors and scientists tell her.

    BACKSTORY: Due to (most likely) a traumatic past which she can't remember, Evelyn has been experiencing episodes of hysteria and occasionally hallucinations. She's been in and out of institutions from the age of ten. She has had periods of great improvement within institutions but once released, she finds it hard to adjust to regular life. She was admitted into MMA only about a year ago when her caregivers decided to send her somewhere more permanent. She frequently witnessed and experienced abuse within hospitals but was never quite able to bring herself to talk about it. While she isn't completely insane, it takes her time to formulate her words, and most people didn't stick around to listen. As for MMA, the abuse for the patients was immensely worse than what she ever witnessed or experienced before. She was one of the few women admitted into this asylum, and was placed under the dream therapy. There were times when she was conscious and asleep at the same time, and completely aware of the sexual abuse she was experiencing. She didn't bother complaining, since everyone seemed to be a part of it. Anything from suspicious caresses to full penetration, everyone viewed the patients as objects for scientific discovery and physical pleasure. She lived for the moments at the end of the day when she was able to just sleep.




    A full map of the asylum's ground floor can be found here.


      St. Michael's Asylum is a mental hospital for the criminally insane, located in the remote mountains in Massachusettes, USA.

      1945 - The O.S.S. initiates Operation Paperclip, recruiting scientists from Nazi Germany to conduct research for the USA.
      1967 - St. Michael's Asylum for the Criminally Insane is established. Three scientists are murdered by an unknown patient. Authorities order the asylum to cease all activities.
      1971 - St. Michael's Asylum is finally closed.
      1972 - CIA Director Richard Helms orders all MKUltra files to be destroyed. A small number of documents survive, scattered throughout the asylum.
      2009 - The clinic was re-opened by the Murkoff Corporation, which for the next several years conducts illegal experiments on patients with the sole purpose being profit.

      Administration Block
      Prison Block
      Male Ward
      Female Ward
      Underground Lab
      Recreation Area
      Drying Ground
      Vocational Block

      Murkoff Corporation is a company that reopened the St. Michael's Asylum, under the guise of a charitable organization in 2009, after CIA Director Richard Helms orders all MKULTRA files to be destroyed. It was experimenting on the insane inmates of the Asylum. This caused the patients to grow stronger than the average human and cause havoc across the whole asylum and they were known as The Variants. Billy's mother was also in a lawsuit against Murkoff. One of the main contributors to Murkoff Corp. were Alan Mathison Turing and Rudolf Gustav Wernicke. Murkoff also kept their workers from keeping in contact with their family and friends, because of the experiments they had done on the patients.

      Murkoff Hardline Security (M.H.S)
      A division that directs Murkoff's military units. They have the power to seize Murkoff facilities in the case of emergencies (with permission from Murkoff's Board of Directors"). They are responsible for sending "Murk Tactical" to the St. Michael's Psychiatric Center.
      Murkoff Research & Development (M.R.D)
      This branch directs the scientific projects that Murkoff takes on. It works to both research potential areas for profit and works to develop these in to working models. M.R.D is responsible for the creation of the Walrider Project. Notably M.R.D executive Richard Trager wishes to expand Project Walrider to include female patients.
      Murkoff Psychiatric Systems (M.P.S)
      Likely specifically created for Project Walrider. M.P.S consists of doctors, scientists, orderlies,and security guards who work with patients at St. Michael's Asylum, for the purpose of creating a super solider, using a "swarm" of specific molecules produced through psychosomatic direction.

    This roleplay will include:
    - Descriptive gore
    - Blood
    - Violence
    - Rape/Non-con
    - Language
    - Sexual content

    Proceed with caution.

    • Love Love x 1
  2. Evelyn Winter; The Punished PatientOpen your eyes…

    You don’t have to wake up,

    but open your eyes…

    Evelyn felt a sharp, painful slap across her face. She shuddered, her lids slowly lifting. The scientist in the plastic blue suit in front of her faded in and out, splitting into double, then forming into one again. She could tell she’d been drugged, because of how groggy and sluggish she felt. She looked past the man and saw a large screen as large as the wall. As she tried to shift, she could feel she was bound to the chair, and so was her forehead. She was going to be forced to watch whatever was on the screen. She’d done it before, and her breathing started to grow more shallow as she began to remember.

    “Ohhh… did someone hit you?” the scientist cooed at her with mock pity, “I’m sorry. Here… let me help.”

    She watched the ink blots as the scientist leaned down in front of her. She sluggishly, weakly pulled against her restraints as she felt a hot, warm tongue run slowly up her neck. She trembled, gasping out as she started to feel a sharp pain in her head. The pulsing shapes on the screen grated against her brain, static filling her head. She felt a firm hand slip underneath her hospital gown between her legs and grab at her. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t look away from the wall even if she tried.

    She heard a muffled voice, and it sounded like a woman’s “Andrew… are you getting these alerts?” Andrew must have been the scientist bent over her, because his movements stopped. His head lifted from his neck, and he let out an exasperated sigh.

    “Kinda busy here…” he said, and started to turn his attention back to Evelyn.

    The woman’s voice was more urgent now, “It… sounds like real trouble. A-at the engine? They said Hope made a lateral ascension…” And at the sound of these words, Andrew pulled completely back from Evelyn, his head looking back up.

    “Billy Hope….Shit…. they’re not happy about it?”


    “Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Come on…” and he walked past her. Evelyn couldn’t turn her head to see where he was going, since her head was strapped into place. She was forced to keep looking at the screen. She started to cry out as she felt her brain buzz and ring. Her eyes watered from the pain. She felt the sedatives start to ware off. As the sedatives wore off, the pain grew worse. She didn’t know how much time went by. The pain made it feel like hours. But all of a sudden the screens went white and the pain stopped. She felt the restraints fly open. She looked down slowly at herself, her pale, thin legs dangling freely over the examination chair she was in. As she looked away from the screen, she saw echoes of the images from before, and some of the pain momentarily throbbed, but it was a dull throbbing compared to what it was moments before. She was in a glass room, and there were patients on either side of her, each patient in their own private room. They were out of their restraints as well. She leaned forward to slide her foot our of the chair but slipped, still weak from the experiment. She whimpered as she hit the floor. She heard some screaming off in the distance as she slowly looked up. She saw one of the patients pounding on the glass to her room. She started to inch away, her heart racing. Then she saw it. A thick black cloud hovered over the patient. The center of the cloud was more dense and black, and it almost looked human shaped. The arms reached out and grabbed the man, pulling him back. Her room went dark and she couldn’t see anything but the flashing patterns in her own mind.

    She gasped as she heard screaming and wet tearing and loud screaming and a sickening splattering sound and then silence. She trembled, pulling her knees to her chest and sliding until she felt her side press to the stone wall, the only wall that wasn’t made out of glass. Her eyes began to get used to the darkness, and she saw a few emergency lights flicker on dimly. She looked to the room beside her, but could see nothing through the thick splatter of blood and gore along the wall. She covered her mouth, muffling a scream. Then she heard others screaming, but she couldn’t tell where from. She shivered, looking around for a way out. The glass containment door slid open mechanically with the rest in the hall. She pulled herself up to her feet, staggering and stumbling for the door, looking around. A she walked along the hallway she felt her bare feet walk through something wet and warm. She didn’t want to look down as she walked towards a dull light. She shook, her arms hugging herself, whimpering softly as she made her way god knows where.
    #2 Munchkin, Apr 18, 2015
    Last edited: Apr 19, 2015
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  3. Alistair Scott; The Detective InspectorIt was a crisp autumn day when Alistair pulled up to the station. His dark eyes slid over to the clock inside his car before turning it off. He had about 45 minutes until he was scheduled to meet the rest of the crew. Alistair hadn’t met all of them yet, but he trusted Dr. Bray to choose smart, and trustworthy people for this case. Especially since this case in particular had a personal kind of meaning to Dr. Bray. Alistair got out of his car, coffee in hand as he closed the door behind him. His office now was a lot different than his office when he first started as a detective. It was sleek, professional with a minimalist design. Despite his natural clutter-like nature, Alistair’s office was always neat, and mostly because of his college age intern who assisted him with paperwork and a few cases. The intern was a young boy of 20 who did a spectacular job in the office, but Alistair questioned his ability on the field, which was why he hadn’t asked him to join him on this case.

    Once in his office he sat down in the leather chair, logging into his computer to quickly check his email. He didn’t know how long he would be at the facility. Technically it was his day off, so there were no previous meetings or press conferences he had to go to. He sipped at his coffee, replying to a few basic, routine emails, but other than that, there was nothing of pressing importance he had to respond to. He slid out of his chair, walking to his filing cabinet and pulling out a few folders and placing them on his desk. He slid them in a larger, thicker manilla envelope, just to make sure they would all stay together. Most of the people involved in the case had received electronic copies of the files, but just to be safe, he decided to bring copies with him.

    He slid out of his peacoat, hanging it up for a moment. Underneath, he had pair of wool trousers, and a white collared shirt. He slid his neutral-colored scarf off as well. He had suspender-holsters that made a criss-cross pattern across his back. He slid his trusty pistol into the left holster. Just basic precaution. He loaded a few magazines into the pouches attached to his belt. He pulled his peacoat back on, along with his scarf. He tucked the manilla envelope under his arm, picked up his coffee and shouldered his way out the door and back into his large, black Jeep. He placed the files in the passenger seat, sliding out two folded pieces of paper. One was a printout of an email Alistair had received about a week ago.

    September 17, 2013
    Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Murkoff Psychiatric Systems

    You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring.
    I did 2 weeks of software consult at MURKOFF Psychiatric Systems' facilities in Mount Massive. All sorts of NDA's I am very much breaking right now but seriously, fuck those guys.

    Terrible things happening there. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw. Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep, finding something that had been waiting for them in the mountain. People are being hurt and Murkoff is making money.

    It needs to be exposed.

    Alistair tucked the email underneath the next paper, which was a local map. Alistair had used a red pen to draw out the route from the station to the asylum. He propped the map up on his dashboard as he turned the key in the ignition. As the engine turned over, he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, tucking it between his teeth. He pulled out a metal lighter, flicking the small ridged wheel until the wick ignited. He held the end of his cigarette in the flame, sucking a drag from the filter before flicking the lighter shut and tucking it back in his pocket. He backed out of the station, looking at his rear-view mirror as two plumes of smoke billowed from his nostrils.

    While the asylum wasn’t too far away, it took some time to get there since it was up in the mountains. A good bit of his drive was winding back and forth up a mountain road. On the way up were signs indicating that Mount Massive was nearby. He pulled into a small parking lot that was labeled for visitors. He saw a few other cars, and recognized Dr. Bray’s car. This must be the rest of the crew. He gathered his things, opening the car door and stepping outside. He sighed out a smoky breath, and walked around to the back of a large van where Dr. Bray was with a young college-age looking asian girl.

    “Morning, Bray,”
    “Looking well, Scott,” the two friends shook hands.
    “Wish I could say the same about you, old man,” Alistair teased.
    “Don’t worry about me,” Dr. Bray said wearily, waving his hand. Both men turned their attention to the young girl.
    “This is Sue Lyn,” said Dr. Bray. Sue and Alistair shook hands, “She’s a student at my university, told her about this case of yours, she’s talented with a camera,” he said.
    “Nice to meet you,” Sue said, softly. She had a pretty nice camera hanging around her neck, “I’ve got enough storage to keep the camera going for a while. Plus, spare batteries and memory cards.”
    “Good. We don’t want to miss anything,” Alistair said, turning and looking up at the towering facility in the distance. It looked so old. The two old friends began to talk while Sue Lyn started snapping pictures of the outside of the building, taking both video clips and stills. Alistair finished off his cigarette and flicked it onto the ground, stepping on the end with his thick black boot.
    #3 Munchkin, Apr 18, 2015
    Last edited: Apr 19, 2015
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  4. Julia Bradford; The Secular Scientist"Goddammit. I was listening to that." The static bursting from the radio's speakers seemed to crescendo. Julia gave the heap of metal and plastic a frustrated kick, once, twice, to no avail. She groaned and folded her hands across her chest, a look of disdain cast down upon her kneeling companion. "I thought you said this equipment was set to function."

    "It is," came the irritated retort of Frederick Roose, his expression a frown. "Not for listening to music on any station though. You think we can get reception up here? Shit." He chuckled and shook his head. "Don't kick my things. The Scottish guy needs 'em."

    "They'd better perform," Julia warned. "Or we're leaving it, and you, behind."

    "Well, ain't you just a ball a'sunshine."

    "I don't like this place," she admitted with a sigh. "I don't want to be here longer than we have to."

    "What don't you like about it?" he asked, casting his eyes toward the grand silhouette of St. Michael's Asylum. The stonework dated back to the early Edwardian period and the massive nature of the place stated just how over-exaggerated medical treatment had been at the time. A great, cross-shaped shadow splayed across the cobbles from the top of the chapel. "I think it's charming."

    "No one's come to greet us. Did you notice that?" Julia pointed to two cameras on the front of the building, both still. "Look. The lenses are facing away from us. Either no one's in the security room to turn them, or no one's in this place at all." Her words had clearly caught the attention of the other investigators, for all eyes turned to the two security cameras in question with looks of curiosity. "A place like this wouldn't just let the eyes in the front of their head stop working. That's our first sign that something's up."

    Frederick blinked. "What do we do?"

    "You turn that camera the fuck on, and I get my gun." She gave him a sidelong stare as if the answer had been obvious. "There's bound to be something going on in there. We're here to find out what, right? Might as well get started. Inspector," she spoke with a gesture to Alistair Scott, "make sure the Asian doesn't stop taking pictures. Doctor Bray, get ready to take some notes. I'm not taking any risks of losing information here." Julia stuffed a Smith & Wesson into the back of her jeans, continuing forward to the front doors of the asylum. The scientist within her begged to breach the walls and reap the secrets that MURKOFF Co. was said to hold, though it was foolish to proceed without caution. Something was amiss and Julia would not let it catch her off-guard. A sudden gust of wind sent leaves flying upwards and her hair smothered over her face, obscuring her vision only for a moment before she pulled the curls back into a much-needed tie. When she was certain the rest of the group was following behind, the scientist straightened her back and pressed the intercom button on the side wall, preparing to be friendly so she might grant them entrance.

    Nothing happened. She pressed the button again only to receive the same lack of response. "The buttons aren't even lighting up," Julia observed with a worried frown. She moved to the doors and tried to pull them open, to no avail as both were locked tight.

    "Locked." She scoffed, turning to the group. "The damn door is locked. What the hell is going on here?"
    • Love Love x 1
  5. Alistair Scott; The Detective Inspector Alastair nodded a greeting at both the scientist and the film director. He introduced himself to both of them, shaking their hands, "Thank you all so much for coming," he said, looking at all of them, "Which ones of you brought a firearm?" he asked, tucking the manilla folder away into the inside of his peacoat. He assumed they'd find files when they got inside, and his envelope had room for quite a few more papers, "We don't know what we're going to find in there, and we don't know how hostile it will be."

    He looked up at the cameras when Julia Bradford mentioned it. When she started letting out a string of orders, things got a little tense. Alastair caught Dr. Bray's eye and he gave a stiff smirk. The doctor already had his pad out and was jotting down a few things. Sue's cheeks flushed angrily when she was called the asian, but didn't respond, she only clicked a few more photographs, and started a recording, following closely behind the group.

    "Her name's Sue, Miss Bradford. I suggest you use it if you want a positive response," he said with a chuckle. Alastair had already jotted down a few notes that would benefit an Inspector. The best thing about this group is each person with a pen and pad would be writing down different details according to their profession. Even Sue had a small recording device with her that she would mutter into from time to time, explaining what was going on. Writing it down would have meant putting her camera down, and she didn't want to lose any information. The recording device was around her neck, and she only needed to bring it up to her lips with one hand, press a button and speak into it just loud enough for the recorder to pick up.

    When the team made it up to the front door, and realized it was locked, Alastair took a few steps back, looking along, "Well, there's got to be an open window around here somewhere," he said, before pointing over to the side of the building, "There's some scaffolding over there... must have been working on renovating something... Maybe we can get in through there," he suggested. He wasn't worried about breaking and entering charges. After all, the place looked a little shabby and run down. The cameras weren't working and there was no one answering the intercom. He had reasonable suspicion that something was up, and that was enough to let him legally force his way in.
    #5 Munchkin, Apr 19, 2015
    Last edited: Apr 19, 2015
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  6. Julia Bradford; The Secular Scientist"I'm not a climber," Frederick spoke in a voice calmer than what any of them were feeling. "But I guess I can try to be right now. Someone'll have to hold my camera, or I can hand it up to them."

    "I will." Julia held up a hand briefly. "We need to get in there and find out what's going on. Inspector, I think you should go first, you've probably got the better gun and are better trained at these things." She let out a nervous sigh, scratching the side of her neck. "Sorry, Sue. I didn't mean to be rude. I get kinda bitchy in high-stress situations."

    "Can't blame you. This place is weird."

    "Yeah. I have a firearm, the camera guy does too, though he already told me he doesn't know how to use it." Julia patted her lower back, where her Smith & Wesson was safely hidden. "I've got spare bullets too, and another gun stuffed in Fred's camera bag. But that's it."

    "I hope we don't need more than that," Frederick interjected. "I'm no use in those types of situations. Come on. Let's get in this damn place. The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out. Now that y'all have mentioned it, I don't like the feel of this place either."

    "Join the club." Julia gestured to the scaffolding. "After you, Inspector."

    When the Scottish detective had climbed into the open window one floor above ground level, Julia was quick to follow. She was swift to hoist herself up onto the wobbly wooden supports, reaching down to lift Frederick's camera over her shoulder when she was at last secure. She stepped over threshold of the window into what appeared to be a recreation room, or perhaps a break room for the staff, and set the mass of equipment on a nearby table. The surroundings seemed cozy enough, yet absent of any signs of life which instantly set off Julia's guard. Why isn't anybody here? She pulled out her gun and made sure it was loaded before turning to Alistair.

    "Where is everyone?" she asked quietly, her eyes glancing down to an abandoned meal on the table. "It's too quiet in here. I don't like it."

    "Should we find a place to set up base?" Frederick inquired, hopping over the window sill and into the room with the others. Sue and Doctor Bray were close behind him. "You know, like a headquarters or somethin'."

    "Depends. We should look around first, once everyone's inside." She glanced to the detective and chuckled. "I mean, if that's what the leader of the mission wants to do. Sorry, sorry. I'm getting ahead of myse--"

    The lightbulbs flickered and burst. The group was left in sudden darkness, scrambling to adjust.
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  7. Alistar Scott; The Detective Inspector "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst," said Dr. Bray. Feeble though he looked, he didn't have much trouble jumping up onto the scaffolding. Alistair made sure he had a firm stop arm to grab on to. He wasn't expecting the doctor to do much physical work, they had him for his mind after all. His mind was as sharp as ever, but the body incasing it had grown old and feeble. Even his voice had a shaky hoarseness to it. But it wasn't unpleasant to listen to. If it had been another time and place, perhaps the group would have taken comfort in his voice. But right now, nothing could really dull the tension and suspicion that hung thick in the air.

    The window was open, letting in air. There was a plastic tarp over it, but no window or window sill. Maintenance must have been replacing it. But what stopped them. Alistair looked out the window at the mountain sky as he held the semi-transparent tarp open for the others to climb in. He gave them all a hand. He had a firm, strong arm. Alistair was built for physical labor it seemed. He used his body as much as his mind. Thick dark clouds were forming in the distance, but he could already here the sound of low thunder, adding to the uneasy ambience of the place.

    When the light bulb burst out, Sue let out a high-pitched gasp. Dr Bray muttered, "Good heavens," and Alistair cursed under his breath, "Anything else wrong with this place?" he muttered mostly to himself. Sue muttered a few things into her recorder, "Even if there isn't any malpractice there's definitely neglect to keep things... up to date," he said, looking around. But something told him they didn't just stop what they were doing out of laziness. The chairs were pushed out at odd angles.

    Alistar felt his eyes start to get used to the dark, but he pulled out a large flashlight, and shone it around the room, taking in the details. Food completely forgotten. He took the plate, brought it up and gave it a few sniffs, "Mmm.." he thought to himself, "Not yet spoiled," he said, placing it back down, "It's fresh."

    He looked around the room, and found a news paper. He picked it up, checking the date. "Well... someone was here at least two days ago," he said, tossing it back down and looking at the others, "There has to be a reason they're not here now," he kept the light out of their eyes, and instead shown it around the place, "We need to stay here and get as much information as possible while we can," he said, handing his flash light to Julia. He had a few other flashlights as well, "Sue, your camera has night vision, yes?" When she nodded he seemed satisfied.

    "Don't worry about it, Julia," he said, a bit late in replying to her apology, "You're a part of this group for a reason, so use your voice," he said. He turned back to the others, "Keep your eyes open, record anything you deem significant. All of you here are professionals in different fields, and with all of our minds together, I hope to find an answer," he said. He was glad a few others had firearms. He nodded, looking a bit more relieved. The last thing he wanted was to lose people on this case. Even though he still had no idea what the hell was going on. His instincts made him thankful for his gun.

    Alistair was suddenly reminded of the disappearance of the Mayans. But he hoped it wouldn't be an unanswered question. He heard something above. Like running footsteps down a hall. It came from the floor above them. He stiffened, looking up at the ceiling, before slowly relaxing. He looked at the director, "If you think setting up a headquarters is good, then I suggest we do it. We can try to find a good place to set up, that is unless you find this room suitable." He walked over to the door, which was already cracked open. There wasn't any light shining through but he peeked down the hallway on both sides. At the end of one hallway he saw a dull light. And blocking it were overturned book shelves making an X blocking the way, "What the hell happened here?" he murmured under his breath, pulling his head back and looking at the others, "The hallway's a mess. There was some kind of... struggle."
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  8. Julia Bradford; The Secular Scientist"Struggle? In the hallway?" Julia followed the sight of flickering lights, scowling as she entered the area in question behind the Scottish detective. "Jesus. Doesn't look like just one struggle, does it?"

    "Looks like the whole place went up," Frederick added from her left. "There, that room across the hall. Still has lighting. We can use that as a place to set up."

    "Fine," Julia agreed. "I'm gonna keep walking around some more. You and the others can figure things out, I think the detective will want to investigate too."

    "I thought you were just a scientist," Frederick stated.

    "Just because I'm a scientist doesn't mean I don't know how to handle situations like these." Julia gave a soft chuckle as if she knew something he didn't. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You, Sue and the doctor should get situated while Alistar and I take a look around these halls. I want to see if they're all a mess like this, and if there are any other clues as to what the hell is going on here. This isn't exactly the greeting we expected."

    "Alright, yeah. I agree. Come on," Frederick urged to his teammates. "Let's get us a nice safe place to start gettin' set up."

    Julia stepped through the second room, the floor smothered in scattered books and papers from overturned desks and half-standing bookshelves. The windows were all ajar, letting in a harsh breeze from the growing frigid night and tapestries flapping wildly in the wind. Static from a nearby flatscreen was the only light source in the room until Doctor Bray flicked on one of the electric lanterns, and the butchered surroundings were further illuminated. This place looks torn to shreds, Julia thought, casting a glance back to Alistair as she was certain he felt the same. She pressed onward through the room until she came to a second door, slowly pulling it ajar.

    What have we gotten ourselves into?

    Sophie Kastellic; The Curious JournalistOh, this was a terribly bad decision. And Sophie knew it.

    Following Alistair Scott like a shadow had never been a part of her agenda. Her priorities were much less stalker-oriented and much more noble. Seeking justice for the murder of her friend, seeking a mentor, wondering and hoping that perhaps the Detective Inspector might take her on as an intern, doing her job--all of those things seemed like hopeless wishes now, the dreams of a foolish girl. Sophie was exceptional at investigation but less so at common sense. Perhaps that was why she'd wandered into St. Michael's after the detective without a second thought, hoping she could lend her aid, hoping she could accomplish the task set before her by her boss.

    She hadn't expected to find destruction.

    "The bathroom is exceedingly disgusting," Sophie spoke into her recorder, scanning the area cautiously as her nose scrunched from the stink. "Unflushed toilets, dirt, some small stains of blood on the tile and the mirrors. I think a massive fight happened in here, it hasn't been tended in at least two days. I'm starting to wonder if I should leave this place and not come back." She crouched down to further examine the linoleum. "Given the way some of this blood smears, it looks like someone was dragged out of here, and not kindly." Her voice trembled. I shouldn't be here, she thought as she stood from her position. Maybe none of us should. I have to tell them.

    Sophie opened the door and turned into the hall, only to be met with fear. An arm gripped around her neck and she would have screamed, had a woman's hand not clasped over her mouth and stopped her from doing so. Sophie struggled against the iron grip and whimpered from the pain, but the kiss of cold metal pressed to temple, the barrel of a gun. The journalist fell still. "Don't scream. We don't know who else is here. I promise we're not going to hurt you. Do you understand?"

    Sophie nodded. The hand over her mouth released, and the girl instantly squirmed from the stranger's grasp. "That's not the way you promise not to hurt someone," she spat, panic flooding through her veins like fire. "Who are you, what are you doing here?"

    "Calm down. I should be asking you the same question." The woman seemed to frown, shoving her gun into the back of her jeans. "You're too young to be a nurse here."

    "I'm not a patient either. I'm a journalist. And you're not a cop, so don't put a gun to my head again. I still have rights. That's what you bloody Americans always preach about, isn't it? Your rights?" Sophie held her trembling frame, the clothes on her body not doing enough to keep her warm despite the blood pumping in her veins. "I don't want any trouble. I was just about to leave I think, this place seems too dangerous. That bathroom, someone fought and lost in there, and I thought I saw bigger blood stains down the hallway. I don't dare go much further, and neither should you."

    "What makes you think I'm here to investigate?"

    "I saw you," Sophie admitted. "Out front with the Detective Inspector. I followed him here because my employer wanted to know what he was up to, and I just wanted to speak with him, but I don't like this place. You shouldn't go much deeper, none of us should. It reeks of death further down these halls."

    It was then that she noticed the figure coming from the shadows, tall and strong with a flashlight in hand. Alistair Scott emerged with a look of concern, glancing between the woman and Sophie more than once.

    "Sir," Sophie rasped frantically. "Sir, please. I beg you not to go too much deeper, at least not into the center sanctum. I'm not sure if it's safe."
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  9. Sue Lynn; The Quiet Photographer Dr. Bray watched Alistair's reaction carefully, attempting to gauge just how worried he looked. Alistair was pretty good about staying calm in dire situations, so it wasn't always easy to know just how bad things were. But there was a flicker in Mr. Scott's eye that made Bray uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how to take it. But he knew that Alistair wouldn't back out now, and neither would Dr. Bray. He could feel the tension nearly radiating off of Sue. He could almost see her trembling. He turned to her, giving her a warm, grandfatherly smile, "Well, come on then, Miss Lynn, let's get ourselves nice and comfortable," he said, gently patting her shoulder. The physical contact seemed to make her come back from the dead. She looked up at him, before nodding and setting to work. The director, the doctor, and the photographer got settled in a lighted room across the hall.

    Sue made sure her batteries were fully charged, slid a sleek silver laptop from her backpack. She opened it, typing in a few things before a black screen came up, "I've got a few cameras with me that we can set up in hallways if we need to. They'll be showing a live feed here to my laptop. Same with my camera," she lifted up her large, expensive looking piece, "I've also got a few small hand-held cam corders for the team to carry around with them. They, too, will be sending information back to this laptop. That way we'll have two copies of the recording, just in case," she said with a shrug, "It's also a way for us all to keep in contact, and see what everyone is seeing in one place. I can't be everywhere at once. We're already starting to split up, and i figured that might happen." Before Alistair could leave she gave him one of the small camcorders . "This should fit right in your pocket," she said, pointing to his breast pocket, "with the camera pointing out, that way your hands are more free. But if you want to get something specific, you can, of course, take it out and focus on something," she briefly showed him the controls of zooming, and night vision, "That's basically all you're going to need," she said. She turned on the camera, and pointed it at herself. A few moments later a small square on her black computer screen popped up with her face. She waved at it. It was slightly delayed, and the quality of the picture wasn't as good as her own personal camera, but it would do just fine. If they saw something big, it would be enough to capture it, "There." she slid the camcorder into Alistair's pocket and sat down in front of her computer, fidgeting with the display to get a good picture.

    Once Alistair and Julia left, Sue watched what they saw. Every now and then taking screen shots. She looked over at Frederick, "The sound quality on these camcorders isn't good. If they spoke aloud we would be able to hear them, but smaller noises more than ten feet away or so won't be heard by us," she said, sighing a bit and frowning, "Do you have any small mics?" she asked, ruling through her bag, "I tried to get some from school but I couldn't find any, and I didn't have enough time to grab cheap ones from the store."

    The three of them would be able to be situated around a round recreation table. There were other surfaces to put equipment, but the three would be closest together at this table. At least for now, proximity was what made Sue feel more comfortable. She trusted Dr. Bray most of all, and never strayed far from his side. He was, after all, one of her professors, and had always looked up to him. Even though he was old and seemingly frail, Sue felt safe with him.

    Alistair Scott; The Detective Inspector Alistair fidgeted with the camcorder in his shirt pocket, and made his way down the hallway with Julia. They seemed fine without the night vision for now. He slid between some broken stair cases, sucking in some so he could squeeze in. He was much broader than the scientist, so she would get through easier than he would. He lagged behind a bit as he peeked through a few doors. He peered into a recreation room or kitchen of some sort. Something creaked and he looked up. He was disgusted with the sight. There was an air vent, and the barred covering was hanging open, and there was a rhythmic sound of dripping blood. There was one blood stain that trailed from the floor up into the vent. How the hell did that happen? He turned his camera into the room, slowly panning and letting the others see, "This is fucking insane," he murmured under his breath. This wasn't even the mental ward... this was the staff area. The room stank of blood, a smell that Alistair was unfortunately all too used to. It didn't get his gag reflex like it did in his early years on the force. He heard a struggle up ahead, and a muffled scream. Alistair reached for his gun, hurrying down the hall, but then stopped when he saw the two women. He let out a sharp sigh of relief, tucking the gun back inside the holster on his suspenders. "Damn it, Julia," he grunted, "Don't be so keen on pulling that thing out, assess your target before putting the barrel to someone's temple," he said, harshly. This was almost like working with a rookie.

    Alistair turned to the young woman. He immediately recognized the red hair. He listened to her as she explained herself, "Miss Kastellic, are you alright?" he asked, "You've already met Miss Bradford," he said, gesturing casually to Julia, "Sorry about that, it is a little tense in here," he said. He'd seen her before, knew her name, and even read her work. She had an impressive resume, and was a firm and dedicated reporter. If she wanted information, she got it. Alistair appreciated that attitude, but wasn't sure how he felt about her aiming that attitude towards getting information about him. Then again, he didn't have much to hide, but he was naturally a private person. He had to have a clean record and a clean lifestyle to even be a detective, so he wasn't worried about anything embarrassing getting out, but he did have issues with having his personal information out there.

    His brows knitted together, "I appreciate your concern and warning, but we're here for answers, and I don't wish to leave empty handed," he said, firmly, but not unkindly, "I hope you can understand that," he said, "You're more than welcome to leave, however," he said, "I'm sure you've seen more than enough to write a compelling article, enough to get you some well-deserved recognition," he said. He sounded half sincere, half sarcastic.
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  10. Sophie Kastellic; The Curious JournalistThe detective was much taller than she'd remembered, having only seen him once or twice in the real world to gain proper comparison. His voice was deep and his Scottish accent strong, though his words were perhaps not quite so attractive. Sophie frowned to hear him speak to her so. She was a diligent worker who always strove to uncover the truth, but something in this place was dangerous and wrong. Was she the only person who saw that?

    "With all due respect, Detective, I won't leave alone." I won't go anywhere in this place alone. Sophie had expected a boring facility filled with lunatics and psychotic prisoners, not the gateway to hell. "I, uhm--I can show you where I was earlier. You might find something interesting back there. Follow me." She pulled out her phone and clicked on the little flashlight at the back, stepping further down the hallway where she yearned not to go. With trembling hands, she pulled out her recorder and began to speak.

    "Met Detective Inspector Scott," she said, "and a woman by the name of Julia. I'm going to show them the back hall near the library that I described earlier, before I went into the bathroom." Sophie gave a nervous glance behind her, to where the detective and gunslinger were following carefully. At least I'm not alone. She turned and moved forward again, pushing open a door at the end of the hall that led outward into another. Glass panes separated the upper floor from the lower, a great chandelier hanging between them in the space. Some of the lightbulbs had burned out. Sophie stepped close to the glass and peered down to the main floor lobby, gesturing for Alistair and Julia to come forward.

    "Look at this," Sophie said with a nervous exhale, eyes cast to the destruction below. The reception desk was smothered in gore and spattered blood, papers strewn carelessly across wooden floors. A body rested against the security room, though Sophie couldn't tell what had happened to the corpse from such a distance.

    "The library is just over h-here," Sophie pointed out. "If you wanted to check it out, that is."
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  11. Alistair Scott; The Detective Inspector Alistair's brows knitted together in thought. He found the woman's determination both admirable and somewhat of a concern. As Sophie told them about a discovery she had made, Scott made eye contact with Julia, before nodding. Despite the average tense relationship between investigators and reporters, Scott had to admit having a reporter's eye was definitely helpful (when the reporter was on your side). If Sophie had found something she found worth sharing, than it must be significant.

    As the scientist and investigator followed closely behind Miss Kastellic, Scott found himself staring at her hair. And following it down her neck and back. He caught himself before going much further, forcing himself to look beyond the reporter and down the hall. He felt a bit of guilt in his stomach. "Forgive me," he muttered, gruffly, "For my shortness earlier..." there were plenty of reporters out there who had written articles on how much of an asshole he was when questioned. He wasn't particularly fond of the media. He had realized overtime that politeness to the media was as important as being polite to the public. He'd had so many words shoved into his mouth by haughty young reporters it was almost enough to hate the entire breed of them... but bad publicity was the last thing he needed, especially on this case. One that he had been turning over in his head for much too long. He had to see the end of it, and the case had to end well. "We're all a bit tense as you can imagine. You're welcome to work along side us for your report--in fact if you're going to continue your project at all I suggest working along side us. There is safety in numbers... and firearms.." he added. He was very aware of his trusty pistol at his side. He could draw it at a moment's notice if there were any kind of disturbance.

    As they walked down the passage, things momentarily got dark. Alistair flicked on the night vision on the camcorder poking out of his pocket. Once things started to get lighter again, he flicked it off. They emerged into a hallway, some of the glass was textured and foggy. It was rather aesthetically pleasing, not considering the circumstances. A few panes of glass, however, were not textured, and one could easily peer through them. Alistair followed and stood close behind the reporter, gazing down at the mess below them, "Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, looking across at the wreckage. He made sure the camera got a good pan of the scene. As a detective and an inspector, Scott had seen his fair share of violent deaths and bloody gore. But this--this was... catastrophic, unexplainable. The way the blood had spattered everywhere, the way organs were laying on welcome desk and keyboards. It was like... someone had exploded from the inside out. But there was no sign of burnt body parts or charred organs. It was unexplainable.

    The body wasn't very old, either. Although he could already see flying black specks around the carnage, it was still fresh. The blood was a healthy, glistening red. It hadn't started to discolor from age and exposure just yet. No doubt it was already beginning to smell.

    "Well, we're no longer searching for just malpractice, but also murder... of some kind of another," he looked at the way things were strewn all over the place. This was a calamity so mysteriously bizarre, that this could not be the only casualty. "So far the body count is one... I hope to not find others, but I can't help but imagine there's more than one who suffered here," he said, turning and following the reporter down the hall. He gave her a nod, letting her know that he wished to see the library. Oh, yes. He definitely needed to know what happened here now, after seeing all of this. This was no longer a diplomatic case of finding evidence and files. This was a murder case... and possibly a mass-murder case. For now, intent and motive were not on his mind. He needed to scope out the place. This was officially a crime scene.
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