(no subject)
Day: 79
Characters: Gamma (blackfired) and Chase (no_afterword)
Summary: Insanity is standard here; murderous, self-damaging insanity is somewhat frowned upon.
When: Second Rec block, after the dinner lock-up.
Where: Therapy rooms.
Status: Closed, Incomplete.
The debacle with the patient the other week had left Chase in what could lightly be called quite a bit of trouble. Their job was to stop insanity from spreading, not awaken a whole new slew of madness that came out of absolutely nowhere. And for that bastard to have somehow picked up the ability to speak fluent and rather foul-mouthed Italian in the process?
Needless to say, he had not been pleased. And now, still significantly furious as well as temporarily banned from administering any further electroshock therapies, someone was tearing themselves apart in one of the cells. Maddening, howling laughter echoed through the day; the sounds of smashing and crashing, of something wet being splashed across anything in range, came over the intercom in bursts. The nameless, faceless security guards brought a number and from there he got a name.
This problem had to be solved, and quickly. The doctors had their own problems to deal with, and this might regain him some of that lost favor (as loathe as he was to admit that he actually had to fight for position here). So back the guards went once the sun had just vanished below the horizon. Restrain him, he'd said, and do it very well. Straitjackets, shackles if you must, but don't let him have one inch of leeway. As promising as a fight sounded, there was only so much he knew he was allowed to do.
On the table lay the prescribed medication, a syringe, and a vial of sedatives. Chase picked up the syringe and the vial and drew out some of the solution. Enough to calm, not enough to render unconscious. If there was a chance he could draw sense out of a crazed monster like this, then he'd take it.
Characters: Gamma (blackfired) and Chase (no_afterword)
Summary: Insanity is standard here; murderous, self-damaging insanity is somewhat frowned upon.
When: Second Rec block, after the dinner lock-up.
Where: Therapy rooms.
Status: Closed, Incomplete.
The debacle with the patient the other week had left Chase in what could lightly be called quite a bit of trouble. Their job was to stop insanity from spreading, not awaken a whole new slew of madness that came out of absolutely nowhere. And for that bastard to have somehow picked up the ability to speak fluent and rather foul-mouthed Italian in the process?
Needless to say, he had not been pleased. And now, still significantly furious as well as temporarily banned from administering any further electroshock therapies, someone was tearing themselves apart in one of the cells. Maddening, howling laughter echoed through the day; the sounds of smashing and crashing, of something wet being splashed across anything in range, came over the intercom in bursts. The nameless, faceless security guards brought a number and from there he got a name.
This problem had to be solved, and quickly. The doctors had their own problems to deal with, and this might regain him some of that lost favor (as loathe as he was to admit that he actually had to fight for position here). So back the guards went once the sun had just vanished below the horizon. Restrain him, he'd said, and do it very well. Straitjackets, shackles if you must, but don't let him have one inch of leeway. As promising as a fight sounded, there was only so much he knew he was allowed to do.
On the table lay the prescribed medication, a syringe, and a vial of sedatives. Chase picked up the syringe and the vial and drew out some of the solution. Enough to calm, not enough to render unconscious. If there was a chance he could draw sense out of a crazed monster like this, then he'd take it.