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[terrorofgotham]

Bo Hopper's been a security guard here at Arkham for a little over a year, and decided it was well time enough to take a week off to go camping. He never made it out into the woods, but that's what his cell phone message said, out of touch and back in next week

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[notatvcharacter]

Another day, another round of annoying the criminally insane for fun and profit.

Today, Dr. McCoy is down in the infirmary, checking Mr J. Doe's staples and stitches and taking blood from him for testing, dryly quipping back in response to the patient's prodding (getting some fun looks from the regular staff for engaging him) when all hell breaks loose.

The smell isn't familiar, but the noise and feeling that comes hurtling in after it -- the rumbling beneath his feet, the sensation of movement forward at speeds far greater than any human being should ever travel at is. He's on an airplane. It doesn't make a damn lick of sense at all, but he knows it, in his bones and in his inner ear, vertigo making him lean forward to catch himself on the edge of the examining table. They're a mile in the air, hurtling in a bolted-together deathtrap of a flying madhouse...

He's gone a rather grey-green as he holds himself up on the table, trying not to scream (like he can hear behind him, screams and falling glass and metal) or throw up on the

[notatvcharacter]

The notion that they're really on a plane is starting to fade again, hopefully for good, but the nausea and vertigo are sticking around. It makes that offered hand distressingly necessary.

At least he keeps his stomach down when the door's kicked open.

He'll try to think of whatever follows as data for sessions. Maybe that'll help.