IC-Prologue-See Emily Play(Alan Gains only)

[Mr. Handy]

Alan flagged down a student who was passing through the lobby and asked him about Dr. Gregory Anderson.

"Yeah," said the young man, "he's a professor here. He's got an office upstairs on the third floor. He just joined Penn's faculty last fall. Specializes in neurology. Sorry, but I have to go now. Got a lecture to attend." With that, the student departed.

Alan next left the building looking for a suitable library. The nearest campus map showed him that the Biomedical Library was located close to John Morgan Hall, next to the Robert Wood Johnson Pavilion. It sounded like it would have the information he needed, so he went there next. It took him a while, but after looking through the catalog and searching the stacks he was able to find a good deal of information on Dr. Gregory Anderson.

The man had been born on July 4, 1921 in Washington, D.C. to Brian and Charlotte Anderson. His father had been a respected brain surgeon, and Dr. Anderson had followed in his father's footsteps. After graduating from Johns Hopkins in 1942 with a bachelor's degree in biology, he interrupted his studies and volunteered in the Army in World War II, where he served as a medic in North Africa, and later Italy, France, the Low Countries, and Germany. At some point in 1943 he was recruited by the fledgling OSS, the precursor to the CIA. His military record was one of distinction, and he received two Bronze Stars and a Silver Star for bravery under fire. After the war he was stationed in West Berlin. He returned to America in 1948 after receiving an honorable discharge, and he attended medical school at Johns Hopkins, earning his M.D. in 1952. After that he took a teaching position at George Washington University, where he remained on the faculty until 1968, at which point he took a job offer from the University of Pennsylvania, where he currently taught. He had a wife, Susan, who he married in 1948. They had a son named Brian (after his grandfather, apparently), who was born in 1949.

Dr. Anderson had published numerous papers throughout his academic career. His thesis subject was "An Analysis of Human Volition in Differing States of Consciousness." Alan was able to find a copy of the thesis in the library, but the subject matter was way beyond him. There were also copies of some of Dr. Anderson's other published works in the library, but again he did not know enough about biology and medicine to get a deep understanding of them. From what Alan could gather, they were heavily focused on sleep and dreaming, and about measuring and influencing neural activity in differing stages of sleep. One paper dealt with neural activity and REM sleep in patients in prolonged comas.

By the time Alan had finished, it was nearly 7:00 PM. It was still light outside due to it being early summer, but Betty would have closed up his office and gone home by now. He was starting to feel hungry, as it had been some time since he had eaten lunch.

[dualshock71]

When Alan finally broke free of the paper's hypnosis, he realized just what time it was, and just how hungry he was. After a moment's debate, he decided to return the books he had been reading and head home for the night. He had learned just enough about the man to dispel his doubts about him. After all, he was a military man, who served with great distinction and honor. How could someone like that possibly be involved in something as shady as he had previously suspected? But still, it might be worth checking out. He had heard tales in the news and even from some cases about how drugs could be slipped into things. Maybe one of the assistants was involved?

He decided to return home for the day, make himself supper, then turn in for the night. Tomorrow, if he had any free time, maybe he could pay a visit to Dr. Anderson, and talk to him about his experiences in the War. Even if he hadn't been strictly a fighting man, it would certainly be interesting to hear the stories he could tell. And maybe, just maybe, he could get into the experiment, to finish disproving his original hypothesis.

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,I'm going to have to wait a little while for events in another thread to catch up before I can further update your thread. Depending on what happens there, you may see something on your way home. Again, I'm sorry for the delay. My posting will need to slow down anyway, as I have to go back to work starting tomorrow and I won't have much free time.

[dualshock71]

OOC,Oh, it's quite alright. It's not like this game is my life, after all. :D

[Mr. Handy]

Alan walked back to the east and across the South Street bridge once more, back toward his home near Rittenhouse Square, conveniently located near his law office. He was only a few blocks away, still on South Street, when he saw two men in suits and ties sitting in an orange 1967 Ford Mustang parked outside one of the bars that dotted the busy street a short distance ahead, a place called Lenny's. The taller of the two was an imposing figure of a man in his mid-forties with receding black hair. He and the other man, a strong brown-haired man in his thirties with a mustache, suddenly threw open their car doors, sprang out, and slammed them shut. The balding man waved to a uniformed policeman who had been standing on the nearby street corner. Then the two of them barged into Lenny's Bar, and the cop in uniform raced after them.

[dualshock71]

Alan paused, watching the men rush about. A kind of horrid fascination froze his feet; the force that makes men watch deadly accidents and simply stare at the most horrid brutalities demanded that the lawyer remain where he was, watching what he could already guess to be a police raid.

[Mr. Handy]

As Alan watched, he could tell there was some sort of commotion going on inside the bar. The uniformed cop blocked his view through the door, but he tried to peer through the window.

OOC,Roll Spot Hidden and Listen to see how much you can discern from here.

[dualshock71]

OOC,Roll(1d100)+0: 31,+0 Total:31 Made my Spot Hidden. Roll(1d100)+0: 81,+0 Total:81 Missed my Listen check.

[Mr. Handy]

Alan couldn't hear what was going on inside, but he was able to see events unfolding through the window. Two young men were sitting in a booth, one with long brown hair and the other with blond hair. The two plainclothes cops flashed their badges and approached them, and the taller one put a hand on the blond man's shoulder while pointing at him with his other hand. The two of them exchanged words, and then the blond man's attention was temporarily diverted by something further back in the bar, out of view. He turned back to the cop and more words went back and forth. The young man had an angry expression, and he took a swing at the cop who had him by the shoulder. The cop easily blocked the punch, grabbing the man's arm in the same motion. He then wrenched the guy's arms behind his back while the cop with the mustache tried to punch the young man in the gut, missing badly.

[dualshock71]

Alan, as nonchalantly as possible, made his way towards the bar door, keeping his eye on the fight going on inside. He wouldn't kid himself into thinking he was in any way a good fighter...but if the cops were in trouble, he couldn't just leave him. He had a kind of respect for law enforcement; they were just one step down from the Army, weren't they?

[Mr. Handy]

As Alan approached the door, he could see that the police had matters well in hand. The old man put a hand on the mustachioed cop's arm and said something to him, but he wasn't quite close enough to make out the words at that point.

"That's entirely up to him, isn't it?" said the cop with the receding hairline. Alan was just able to hear what he was saying at this point. He held the blond man tight, and the prisoner was unable to move. "Cuffs!"

"It's Sergeant, actually," said his partner. "The guy just tried to kill you. I'd have thought you'd want to get in a few good licks yourself."

The uniformed cop at the door moved in and hancuffed the suspect's hands behind his back while "Jailhouse Rock" played on the bar's radio. The young man glowered at the three cops and the old man, but was powerless to do anything. Now that the cop had moved away from the door, the entrance was no longer blocked.

"Brian Anderson, you're under arrest for attempted murder, possession and sale of illegal drugs, assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, and generally being a complete dick. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you by the court."

"That was one smooth collar, Lou," said the sergeant.

"Yeah, it's just too bad he didn't keep resisting. Let's take him in. Grab the goods, Charlie."

"Right, boss." Charlie reached for a tinfoil sheet with several blotters on it on the table, wrapped the blotters back up in the foil and put the packet in a backpack next to it, zipped it up, and slung it on his back. "Come on, pal," he said to the young man with long brown hair, hauling him to his feet.

The other cop turned to the old man and extended his hand. "Lieutenant John Yeager," he said. "This is Sergeant Charlie Rawlings." He indicated his partner to him. "We'll need you to come back to headquarters with us to make a statement."

[dualshock71]

Alan, realizing vaguely sadly that it was over already, decided to wait until the officers were out of sight, then finish his trip home. There wasn't much else he could do here.

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,[b]Alan[/b], roll Idea.

[dualshock71]

OOC,Roll(1d100)+0: 71,+0 Total:71 Just barely got it.

[Mr. Handy]

Something at the back of Alan's mind slowly came to the forefront. The cop who had arrested the young man called him by name: Brian Anderson. Dr. Gregory Anderson, the man in charge of the experiment, had the same surname. Not only that, but he recalled from his research that Dr. Anderson has a son named Brian who was born in 1949. This man was about the right age.

[dualshock71]

Thoughts of food and sleep suddenly fled from Alan's mind as his memory caught up with him. This was Dr. Anderson's son! And he was being arrested...

Deciding that he could stand a little hunger, Alan quickly made up a plan. He would follow after Brian Anderson, and offer his services to the young man. His schedule was not so full as to make this impossible, and he might even make a little money off the arrangement, while at the same time having a good reason to speak to Anderson, and maybe even look into his staff...

[Mr. Handy]

The old man muttered something to himself before peering at his reflection in the mirror. "What the hell have I got on?" he said, looking down at his clothes. "Lieutenant Yeager? I think you'd better add theft to the list of charges. Somehow, Brian here has stolen my suit and left me looking like a refugee from a 70's night."

"A what night?" said Yeager, confused.

"What the hell are you talking about, old man?" said Brian. "You're crazy! Or high..."

Rawlings made a fist and glared, and Brian stopped talking. "Boy, when it rains, it pours," he said. "By the time you get out of jail, you'll be an old man."

"Okay, let's get this show on the road and let these pinkos enjoy their drink-os," said Yeager. He nodded to Bill. "We'll sort this all out back at HQ. You can ride with us in the Mustang. Officer Stevens, give the scene a good going over and see if you can find this man's suit."

"Sure thing, sir," said the uniformed cop. He turned to the old man. "Can you please describe your suit, sir?"

OOC,[b]Alan[/b], roll Listen to overhear what the old man was muttering.

[dualshock71]

OOC,Roll(1d100)+0: 78,+0 Total:78. Completely missed.

[Mr. Handy]

"It's just a plain grey two-piece I picked up from George at Walmart - you know that English designer they've got working for them?" replied the old man. "Good value at eighty dollars. It wasn't expensive but I'd like it back."

Lieutenant Yeager pulled Brian Anderson out through the front door, and the old man followed him outside. Sergeant Rawlings took the other young man by the arm and went out the door after them.

"Walmart?" said Yeager. "Never heard of it, but it must be pretty hoity-toity. An English designer and everything, huh? Maybe eighty bucks isn't expensive for a rich guy like you, but I have to live on a cop's salary. I got mine at Fleet's for half that." He started walking to the orange Mustang.

"You can ride up front with the Lou," said Rawlings. "I'll sit in the back with these guys."

[dualshock71]

Alan briefly considered immediately trying to pass himself off as the young man's lawyer, than decided against the rather stupid plan. Instead, he would follow them back to their station, as best he could. There, he could probably bluff his way into the young man's room, and there continue with his plan.

He also wanted to look into the old man. What would a man of his age, who was apparently well-off, be doing at a place like this? There was something fishy there...