IC-Ep 3-Madhouse(Archie/Phyllis/Benjamin/Anna)

[Mr. Handy]

Maxwell's Sanitarium- London, England
7:30 AM - Monday, September 9, 1940

It did not take long for Archie, Phyllis, Maggie, and Benjamin to reach Maxwell's Sanitarium. The ivy-coated marble building stood proud, barely damaged by the raids of the last two nights. The windows had been shattered by blast, though they had been boarded up, and some of the stonework on one corner had minor chunks blown out of it. They ascended the broad steps to the front doors and went inside. A pretty young brunette sat behind the reception desk. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's not time for visiting hours yet."

[Pastiche]

"Actually, we're not here to visit a patient. We're here to see Anna Jerkins. It's a matter of some urgency..." Benjamin adds nervously.

[Mr. Handy]

"Dr. Jerkins came in to start her shift half an hour ago," she said, concerned. "Are you...patients of hers?"

[aine]

"No we are not. But it does concern a patient of hers. Could you let her know we are here? Thank you." Phyllis looks around the reception and finds a chair to sit on. "Oo look Maggie, old Knitting Monthlies!" She picks up a copy.

[Mr. Handy]

Maggie sat down beside Phyllis and perused the magazines. "I'll say," she said. "It looks like this one's left over from the last war. Still, knitting never goes out of style."

"I'll call upstairs," said the receptionist. She picked up the receiver and dialed. "Is Dr. Jerkins available?" she asked. "There are three older folks to see her, a man and two women. They said it's about a patient of hers." She paused. "Right, I'll hold." After a minute, she spoke again. "Thank you, I'll send them on up." She hung up the phone. "Dr. Jerkins will see you now. Through the door behind me, up one flight, first door on the right. She's with a patient now, but she says you should meet him."

[aine]

"I'll give her 'older folk'." Phyllis mutters as she climbs the stairs behind reception. She waits for the others to catch up and then knocks on Dr. Jenkins door.

[Pastiche]

"A patient we should meet... I'm not sure I like the sound of that..." Benjamin is slightly out of breath by the time he reaches the top of the stairs.

[aine]

"It is rather alarming. I wonder how she knows it's us; maybe she thinks we are somebody else." Phyllis whispers to the others as she waits.

[Mr. Handy]

Anna opened the door from the other side and ushered the three of them into the room. It was a large ward with about a dozen beds, several of them occupied. It seemed that the bombing was causing a lot of stress in people. She led the way to one bed beside a window, where a white-haired man lay, a wild look in his eyes. In spite of the sunlight streaming in through the window, there was also an electric lamp on the bedside table, its bright light shining on his face. "This is Sergeant MacDonald of the Home Guard," she said. "Sergeant, are you feeling up to visitors?"

"We're doomed!" cried the man.

[Pastiche]

"Doomed? What do you mean, poor man?" Benjamin looks concerned, first at the Sergeant, and then at Anna, with a quizzical look.

[aine]

Phyllis sits down by the man's bed, "Pull your self together, Sergeant MacDonald!" She says not unkindly. "Please make your report!" She looks round to the others,

"My husband used to say this was the best way with soldiers who had got themselves in a bit of a muddle. 'Back to basics, Phyllis.' He'd say. Of course this was the Boer War but I'm sure it applies now."

Was he part of the home guard sent to investigate the beast? Is that why you've introduced us?" Phyllis asks Anna.

[Mr. Handy]

"I believe so," said Anna, "but the other Home Guard men who brought him in wouldn't tell me anything about it. That's why I suspect he was there. I've been trying to get through to him, but he's just not responsive. He's terrified, and he insists on having lots of light."

Sergeant MacDonald saluted Phyllis. "Ma'am, my report is: we're doomed!" he said.

OOC,[b]Anna[/b]'s Psychoanalysis roll (90% skill) to bring [b]Sergeant MacDonald[/b] around: [dice]0[/dice] Anyone else may attempt a Psychoanalysis roll. The base skill is 1%. You may also roll Psychology, but that will only diagnose him.

[Pastiche]

Benjamin pulls out his lighter from his pocket, flicks it open and brings the flame right up to face, obviously taking care not to burn the man.

"Relax, old chap. Plenty of light here! Now, can you be any more specific?"

Spoiler:

Psychoanalysis, 1%, you never know! [dice]1[/dice]

[dice]0[/dice]

[Mr. Handy]

"The thing in the dark!" cried Sergeant MacDonald. "The red eye! It saw me!"

Benjamin Klein,[b]Benjamin[/b] could tell that the sergeant was terrified out of his mind, and he was particularly afraid of the dark. He found the flame from the lighter comforting. His symptoms reminded him very much of [b]Eugene[/b]'s behavior, though [b]Eugene[/b] was not this far gone.

[aine]

Phyllis has a think, 'Sergeant. The red eye is not here in the daylight and you are safe. We need more details. How did you escape?'

So close!,Psychoanalysis. Phyllis rolled....3%

[Mr. Handy]

"I ran, soon as I saw it," choked out the sergeant. "I heard shooting and screaming, and then...nothing. I left my men. I'm a bloody coward!" With that, he broke down and sobbed.

[Pastiche]

"Now, no need to get upset here. There's nothing wrong with a healthy dose of self-preservation! Had you stayed, you would have ended up dead anyway. Now, is there anything more you could tell us? Where did this happen?"

Benjamin awkwardly tries to pat the man on the back.

[aine]

"Yes, if you hadn't made it back then we would have no warning about this; you did well, Sergeant, in the circumstances." Phyllis nods.

[Mr. Handy]

"Warehouse..." he mumbled. "In the basement...Egyptian room...God, it's horrible! Keep it away! No! NOOO!" He began flailing his arms, clearly agitated. The other patients were looking very disturbed by this as well.

"I'm going to have to sedate him," said Anna, taking a syringe and injecting the sergeant in the arm. After a little, he settled down and lay his head back on the pillow, a glazed look in his wild eyes. Those eyes slid closed, and he was soon snoring. "He's not as old as he looks, you know," she added quietly. "He's only in his forties. Don't let his hair fool you. I have it on good authority that it wasn't white yesterday." She shuddered.

[aine]

"Goodness! Poor man." Phyllis shakes her head. "And is he the only survivor? I assume this was the home guard that were sent to investigate what we and the others uncovered? What have the authorities said? Is there an official report do you know?" Phyllis talks in a low voice.