Raven on 4/2/2005 at 17:36
Quote:
Not only does it suck that the Hammers, Pagans, City Watch, Keepers, and My Publishers are all trying to kill me, now I’ve got some overweight, leisure suit wearing weirdo after me as well.
:laff:
A great strength of this parody is that we actually have Garrett in such a mess, Gary and Garrotte were genius of course as well. (just goes to show you about the different engines... where would the world be without satire)
fett on 7/2/2005 at 00:52
[This chapter is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are purely works of the author’s imagination or things he ripped off from bad movies. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or in any state between the two, is entirely coincidental.]
Chapter 17 – The Shalebridge Crib
The Shalebridge Crib. It used to be an insane asylum, and before that, an orphanage, and before that, a funeral home, and before that it was built on an Indian burial ground, and before that, the very property itself was cursed by the gods of hell. It’s been used as a film locale for about a dozen Stephen King and Dean Koontz movies, but it didn’t keep them from sucking. It looks pretty quiet right now. One night a fire started. No one knows how, but after that, they left the place abandoned. If there’s a way to cram more creepiness into a building, I can’t think of it. Zombies might help, but that’s been done to death. No pun intended.
I’m here to learn about the fat guy that attacked me in the Keeper Compound. O’Reiley said he saw the creep here long ago, when his childhood friend had her pants stolen. He’s never bothered to come back. I think his obsession is a ruse to keep him away from the Hammerites as much as possible. Weenie.
This is a thin lead, but it’s all I’ve got, and I’ve already broken into every residence in the City four or five times, so maybe this’ll be a change of pace. I’ve never robbed an orphanage before, and I’m not looking forward to this visit. No telling what I’ll find inside. I’m used to the dark, but this feels like a poor attempt to scare the wits out of me. Maybe it’ll make the last few days worth the trouble. I like a good scare.
It was like something out of a horror film. Old brickwork, dead trees, barred doors, and a truckload of gothic trim-work to boot.
I’ve braved the Haunted Cathedral and the Deus Ex: Invisible War demo. Nothing scares me anymore…
The cellar door was the only way in. Classic. Strange noises and dripping water tweaked Garrett’s nerves, and he wasn’t a fan of blind corners either. The place seemed deserted and he hoped it stayed that way.
The fuse was out in the basement electrical system, but surely he could find a replacement in the attic where the fuses would naturally be stored instead of in the spacious room which housed the fuse boxes. There also seemed to be plenty of documentation lying around from the asylum days. He found a patient history on a nearby shelf:
[indent]Case No. 6: V. Larcener –Patient History
Entry One: Brought in by City Watch, hysterical. Carries an urn that contains the ashes of what authorities think might be a pet hamster. Refers to self as ‘Verola’ Larcener. Could prove a difficult case to cure. Doctor Azal.
Entry Two: Efforts to take the rodent ashes away are always met with same self-destructive behavior. For now we see no harm in allowing subject to hold the urn while running inside the large hamster wheel assembled in the Exercise Yard. Inform Doctor Zaphod that I approve the use of anal probe. Doctor Azal.[/indent]
Anal probe? Verola!
The only other room in the basement housed a shelf full of vials and an imposing cage on one side. Here he found another record:
[indent]Case No. 7: K. Yos – Patient History
Entry One: Admitted to hospital for observation and treatment by family. Completely unresponsive to questions or the anal probe. Due to sensitive age, recommend patient be placed under Doctor Azal’s close scrutiny. Doctor B. Hazard.
Entry Two: Told the family today that subject will never be well enough to return home. Family was practically giddy. As proof, I showed them the patient’s cell, which of course is grotesquely outfitted in the same manner as the latest ‘Backstreet Boys’ video.
Entry Three: The board has decided to allow patient to continue visiting balcony with rubber ducky. In the meantime, I recommend we experiment with the anal probe. Doctor Azal.[/indent]
What a bunch of wackos…
After a short panic attack in which Garrett though he might be permanently stuck on a ladder, he made it to the first floor. Strange knocking sounds and voices on the wind sent chills down his spine. The walls were decayed and the place had a dankness to it that permeated Garrett’s soul. And the constant dripping made him need to pee. Didn't they have bathrooms in this place?
The treasurer’s office just off the lobby yielded some information about the going’s on during the asylum days:
[indent]Anal Probe Therapy to Ameloiorate Stress in Hyper-Emotive Patients by Dr. Azal.
Patients whom have lost touch with reality often have a marked tendency to express themselves at length in ‘internet forum boards.’ This results from a lack of social interaction and over exposure to video games and badly made science fiction movies. Although electric shock therapy is often used with this type of patient, I have really enjoyed using the anal probe on them. The probe should be heated and dry as a wet probe only exacerbates the symptoms and tends to cause addiction to deviant internet pornography. The probe must be inserted directly into…[/indent]
Well, that’s all I need to know about that. Poor bastards.
This ‘Doctor Azal’ seemed to have had his own problems – Garrett found a few bottles of cheap malt liquor hidden around the room.
The lobby was meant to have been a grand entryway with spiraling stairs and a modern circular room, but now it just seemed loud and empty. A metal door was locked shut and looked to be controlled by an electric switch. He’d have to replace the fuse in the basement.
As he headed back up one of the spiral stairs, a loud knocking sound burst from the attic stairway.
“Uh…come in?” Garrett yelled out, peering up into the darkness.
Knock knock knock knock knock!!!!
“Um…if it’s the United Way, I gave at the office! If it’s Avon, I’m not interested!! If it’s the Watchtower Society, I’m dead!”
Knock knock knock knock knock!!
There was nothing for it. He’d have to go up there.
The attic was small and virtually empty save for a box of fuses, and a picture propped against the far wall. Where had the knocking come from?
He ventured a closer look at the picture. A teenage girl with black hair and black clothes. She held a microphone in one hand, though it clearly wasn’t plugged into anything. A small plaque on the bottom of the frame read ‘Simpson.’
She looks familiar. It’s the girl that used to hang out with Cattlecall…but that can’t be. This portrait’s as old as the building…
A pubescent female voice reverberated throughout the room, “I heard you breathing…nobody does that in the Crib anymore…my name is Ashley…something changed when you saw my picture. I want to leave here but I can’t. The Crib won’t let anyone go. Will you help me?”
She pulled out a list.
This feels familiar.
“First,” she continued, “You’ll need to retrieve my rosary beads from the dormitory. After that, I'll need you to recover the bodies of Brother Martello and Brother…wait a minute,” she shuffled through some papers, “wrong list. Hang on...hang on...let me see….ah! Here it is.”
Garrett raised his eyebrows.
“There’s a urine sample that belongs to me. It’s in a bottle down in the storm cellar. It’s really dark down there. Drop it into a toilet, so it will end up outside.”
I was just in the storm cellar, and not a single one of those bottles would budge. Guess it can’t hurt to try again.
“Sure thing,” he said, “mind if I borrow a fuse? Then it won’t be so ‘dark down there.’ Seems like if you’ve been here for so long you could've at least gottent he lights working, and dealt with your own urinalysis problems, but whatever.”
Once the lights were restored, he found his way back to the room with all the bottles. They were still glued to the shelf, save one that glowed a bit with an eerie yellow light.
It’s still warm…great…
It didn’t take long to find a toilet and he was glad to be rid of the stuff.
Ashley’s voice filled the air around him, “Very good. The pee is outside now but the Crib still remembers me…you’ll have to get rid of all my things – the Crib uses them to remember me. That’s how it keeps me here. Take a regulating round and combine it with a Bantam node in the Bellowing Machine…wait…gah…wrong list again…”
Garrett kept a close eye on the shadowed doorways as he heard the sound of shuffling paper.
“Ah – here we go. There's a ward here called ‘ThiefGen’ where they send the very bad patients. One of them took my Tube Top back to his cell. Go there and get my Tube Top and burn it up in the Morgue.”
Great…a detective, a rat killer, now an errand boy. Whatever happened to simple breaking and entering?
The electricity now restored, Garrett opened the door, went through the yard and into the blue haze beyond. On the other side, the foyer opened into a small lobby with a desk. Garrett reached for a book lying open on it as something flickered past at the corner of his vision.
He drew back to the shadows but heard nothing, so glanced at the book again – apparently a patient log:
[indent] ThiefGen Patient Register
Patient No. 1 – Cell 1
(Seclusion Chamber)
Wears a black mask to cover his acne. Confined to Seclusion Chamber. Answers only to name ‘DarthMRN’. Dangerous and in need of a bath. Has strange ability to play mind tricks on moderators and other patients by waving hand around while speaking.
Patient No. 2 – Cell 2
Patient Name – Raven Lunna
Allowed to carry a small set of blunt crochet needles. Visits to the craft center permitted, under escort. Attendant must account for both needles at all times and patient has grown fond of anal probe treatments and tends to re-enact sessions with any blunt object within reach.
Patient No. 3 – Cell 3
Patient Name – Will U. Pitch
Keeps an unlit doobie. Patient has frequent episodes of wetting the bed and must be kept in adult diapers at all times.
Patient No. 4 – Cell 4
Patient Name – O. Man
Patient is allowed supervised access to Brady Bunch board game (in cardboard box). He is allowed to perform repairs to the board using scotch tape ONLY! Can cause unspeakable damage if allowed masking or duct tape.
Patient No. 5 – Cell 5
Patient Name – G. Wolf
Allowed to carry his kaleidoscope up to the old Observatory once a month. Thinks he is looking at the stars. Ignorance is bliss.
Patient No. 6 – Cell 6
Patient Name – V. Larcener
Keeps the ashes of deceased pet rodent in an urn. Permitted to take ‘Mickey’ for runs in the giant hamster wheel in the exercise yard.
Patient No. 7 – Cell 7
Patient Name – K. Yos
Patient is allowed to play with rubber ducky on Balcony, under supervision, twice a month, but squeezing of ducky should be regulated as patient tends to get worked into a frenzy.
Patient No. 8 – Cell 8
Patient Name –. Mugla S. Ugla
Permission has been granted for patient to give ‘dirty dancing’ (?) recitals in the Lobotomy Theater with karaoke machine. Patient has been warned not to disturb others by wearing pink spandex during recitals.
Patient No. 9 – Cell 9
Patient Name – Frito Kindo
Permitted to keep cigarette lighter, minus butane. Allowed to light the fire in the Lounge as a reward for good behavior. Attendant must ensure that lighter is not used to set patients own hair on fire as a ‘tribute’ to fallen pop star Michael Jackson.[/indent]
Freaks…
Another note behind the counter read:
[indent]Dr. Hazard,
Another resident was banned today. Stupid buggers. We have to watch them every second. As repulsive as it may sound, we need to review as many posts as possible, so when they say something ignorant, we can get them out of here as quickly as possible. Work with me here.
Dr. Azal.[/indent]
He started with cell 1 and worked his way around. Not much of interest in the rooms save for mementos from the patients and flickering lights.
Then he saw them.
‘Them’ wasn’t actually the word to describe it. Pale, balding, twitching figures, hands scrabbling at unseen annoyances. Their wide eyes hadn’t seen daylight for some years. Like they’d been sitting inside at a keyboard staring endlessly at a computer monitor. Hunched figures, devoid of any humanity, dragging themselves through the halls of the ward. They made sickening gasping sounds as if hungry for fresh air and something decaffeinated to drink. Shells of their former selves.
Garrett fingered his bow and took mental inventory of his fire crystals and gas bombs. This could get ugly. He only had to find Ashley’s tube top, burn it, and get out.
Nothing to speak of until he opened up Cell 5. A cheap kaleidoscope lay in the center of the floor, and on the desk, a painting of a teenage girl with the face rubbed out. That wasn’t what got his attention.
Those bricks are about as uneven as the plot at this point…someone did some amateur work.
It wasn’t so much that they were uneven, as they were glowing brighter than the blue lights outside an L.A. strip club. A neon sign above them flashed the message ‘The Tube Top Is Here.’
Ah…the infamous tube top. As he pulled the bricks away they magically disappeared, revealing the skimpy garment beneath. Garrett tried not to picture Ashley wearing it. Ugh.
She spoke up again in that irritating little voice, “The moderators blamed him for what happened. But they were wrong. Well…it was partly his fault, for not seeing the signs and stepping in, so I guess you could kind of blame him, but really, there wasn’t much he could do. I figure…”
“Shut up already! What do you want me to do with…this?” He held it at arms length.
“Burn it in the morgue.”
“I guess it would do no good for me to ask why an Orphanage had its own morgue?”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“Didn’t think so.”
I hate ghosts…
On his way to the morgue he found the lobotomy room, and considering the bunch that had been registered here, they’d probably needed to use it a lot.
Ashley’s voice again, “I saw a man here once, wrapped up in wet bandages. He kept screaming ‘Please don’t ban me!! Please don’t ban me!!’ I think he wanted me to help, but I was a member, not a moderator, and I was scared.”
Since Garrett understood little of her rambling, he ignored it and scanned the room. It was arranged in such a way that onlookers could get a good look at the procedure while it was taking place. He picked up some pricey surgical tools that had been left behind, and found a note lying on the shelf underneath:
[indent]
Dr. Nightfall –
I was impressed with your report on the ‘botched’ attempt to ban certain residents. Sometimes mistakes such as these are our greatest learning tool. I shouldn’t wonder that in the future it will be called ‘Danning’ rather than ‘Banning’ lol. I’d enjoy the opportunity to observe you banning someone soon.
Dr. Gingerbread[/indent]
Garrett’s attempt to understand the terminology was rudely interrupted when a ‘resident’ he hadn’t noticed, screeched out at him from the other end of the metal walkway and began a slow trot towards him.
No problem.
He tossed a gas bomb.
Which the thing promptly ran right through.
Uh-oh. He notched a fire arrow and let fly, but the thing took the blow to the chest and kept coming.
Geez…did Karras’ build these guys? Running out of time….
Garrett broke a sweat for the first time in recent memory and tossed a mine as he retreated to the space behind the stage. He ducked behind the wall as an explosion ripped the air.
He waited a moment before emerging from his hiding place, but found the creature laying prone on the ground. He wanted to get a better look, so he crept closer.
No visible signs of trauma from the fire arrow or the mine explosion. He leaned down…
An unearthly screech erupted as the thing jumped to it’s feet again and smacked Garrett across the head.
He ran till he found an elevator, took it to the top, changed his pants, downed a few healing potions and took stock. The canned laughter and hangman’s dummy had been a cheap shot, but now he would have to climb down from here and face the creature below. How?
Holy Water! Cleaning out the hammers was finally going to pay off. It was about the only thing that worked – the creature screamed as it went down, and stayed there long enough for Garrett to make himself scarce.
He found the incinerator in the morgue and tossed the tube top in, glad to be rid of the thing.
“Good,” Ashley grated again, “my tube top is gone. But the Crib remembers more than I thought.”
“Oh great!” Garrett threw his hands up, “What now? Don’t tell me the doors are locked and I can’t leave until I run the rest of your stupid errands!”
“Well, essentially, you’re trapped here, but don’t you want to get to the bottom of this mystery?”
“NO! I want to go home, crack open a beer, and watch a Laverne and Shirely re-run. Is that so bad? WHEN IS IT MY TURN? THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW! WHEN IS IT MY TURN??!!!
She was silent for once.
“Ok, sorry,” Garrett murmured, “Just needed to get that out of my system. I keep thinking another Bafford or Rameriz is going to come around, but I keep ending up having to deal with all this supernatural crap. I’m not getting any younger you know. So what now?”
“You’re going to have to go into the past, into the Crib’s memory.”
“You’re really reaching here…”
“You’ll have to pretend to be a patient…”
”That doesn’t sound too hard…if I stay here much longer, I’ll need to be a patient…”
“Each of the patients in ThiefGen had a favorite toy that they liked. You can use them to go into the Crib’s memories.”
“Oh, so now the Crib has a memory. Great.”
“Garrett, this isn’t Mystery Science Theater…please let me finish.”
“Sure, sure...” he rolled his eyes. If that bastard Murus was somehow involved in this…
“Now – find one of those toys, and I’ll tell you what to do next.”
He remembered all the crap lying around in the different cells. Shouldn’t be too hard to nab something.
He started with the mask in the lobotomy room. Ashley had helpful little tidbits of information about each ‘toy.’ It was like watching a pop-up video without the video.
“He used to wear that mask to cover his acne. They locked him in the seclusion chamber. He called it his ‘Dagobah’ but we could never understand what he meant. The toy you just picked up is a key to the Crib’s memories. Now you have to figure out where to take it. There’s a special place for each toy. When you find it, you’ll enter the past.”
“Can’t you just tell me where it goes? That would save us both some time.”
“Er…no.”
“Why not?”
“Because, ummm….I don’t remember?”
“Are you on crack? You remember why the guy wore the mask and what he called his cell, but you can’t remember where the mask goes? Let’s try something else.”
He grabbed the urn out of Cell 6.
“He carried that jar around like it was a real hamster, in the Exercise Yard.”
“Yeah, well that’s out, thanks to the blue smoke.”
“The blue smoke?”
“Nevermind. It’s a Keeper thing.” He kept moving, “How ‘bout this rubber duck I found in Cell 7?”
“He used to squeeze it, out on the balcony.”
“Fine, this will work.”
He made his way back to the balcony and dumped the ducky.
The world went green – a nice change from the blue – and a loud farting sound pierced the air.
“Was that the Crib?” Garrett asked looking around, “And is this the Matrix?”
“No,” she muttered, “I had a chili cheese burrito for lunch.”
He didn’t respond as he descended the ladder.
“Now you’re in the Crib’s memory. This is what everything looks like the way the Crib remembers it. Like a stitch in time.”
“What does that mean?”
‘I don’t know, but it sounds good.”
“It can’t find you because you’re inside a patient. But if the moderators catch you, they’ll take away your toy and you’ll have to find another one. Now, can you get my diary for me?”
“Inside a patient? You mean, like I’m possessing them or something?”
“No, you’re inside of them in the Crib’s memory.”
“I still don’t know that that means.”
“Are you going to get my diary or not?” she put her hands on her hips.
“Sure.”
“In the real world, it’s all torn apart and we can never find the pages…”
“I’m not crawling all over this dump looking for diary pages!”
“…IF you’d let me finish. In the PAST it’s just the way I left it. In the nursery tower.”
“The nursery tower is blocked by debris from a fire.”
“NOT IN THE CRADLE’S MEMORY!
“I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!!!
He detached himself from the ladder as a figure in white strode across the room reaching for him. The green world dissolved, leaving him in the depressing decay of the ruined Crib.
“What was that?”
“One of the moderators. I told you, if they catch you, they’ll take away your toy.”
“But I don’t have the toy – I left it on the balcony. And since you’re so omnipresent around here, why didn’t you warn me that he was coming up behind me like that. A little help here? You do want to leave?” He squinted suspiciously into the gloom.
“Yes – I want to leave. What would give you the impression that I don’t? Now – you’ll need to get another toy.”
Garrett carefully made his way back to ThiefGen, trying not to disturb any of the residents.
Cell 8 had an old karaoke machine. “He used to play that when he danced in the old puppet theater – they made him stop because he was doing suggestive things with his pelvis and it disturbed the children.”
“I would imagine. Either way, I’m not hauling this clunker back to the lobotomy room.”
I also don’t know if creepshow is dead or just sleeping over there…
He crossed the dining hall – maybe something on the other side would prove easier to carry. There was as pair of large, blunted crochet needles on the desk in Cell 2.
“He used to…”
“Ah – no need to explain. Already heard about the crochet needles. Let’s find something else…” he moved down the hall, “here’s an unlit joint in Cell 3. No thanks. I’m in enough trouble with the City Watch as it is.”
“You’re awful picky,” she whined.
“Yeah?! Well I’ve got legal troubles and a weight allowance ok? These moss crystals are chaffing me, I’ve got flashbombs floating around in my nether regions, and this blackjack keeps touching me inappropriately. I have to be picky at this point. Unless one of these weirdoes happened to own a cloak? Nah, didn’t think so. What have we here?” He asked opening the door to Cell 4, “A Brady Bunch board game? This could work.”
“Oohh – about that. Ah- see, some of the pieces are missing, so it probably won’t work.”
“Figures.”
“There’s a kaleidoscope in Cell 5.”
“I think I stepped on it when I was getting the tube top.”
“Bummer…”
Cell 9 yielded a handy little cigarette lighter.
Ashley said, “I didn’t like the way he tried to light everyone’s hair on fire.”
“I’m gonna light mine on fire if you don’t get me out of here – where does this thing go?”
“Well, he used to play with it in the lounge.”
Garrett remembered a fire place on his way in. He made his way back and tossed it in.
The world made another obscene noise and turned green again.
Garrett looked over at Ashley who mumbled, “…and a few tacos…”
Speesh on 7/2/2005 at 00:57
:laff: great, needed a good laugh. Keep up the good work :thumb:
DarthMRN on 7/2/2005 at 01:25
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, for including me, Fett!
However you actually creeped me out a bit with this one.
You see, your descriptions of patient no. 1 is right on spot with this guy living in my room...
I think you must have Force Farsight on a Yoda level.
GlasWolf on 7/2/2005 at 01:40
Quote Posted by fett
Patient Name – G. Wolf
AHEM!
Quote Posted by fett
I shouldn’t wonder that in the future it will be called ‘Danning’ rather than ‘Banning’ lol.
LOL! Top quality stuff, fett. :thumb:
Larcener on 7/2/2005 at 02:53
Case No. 6: V. Larcener –Patient History
Entry One: Brought in by City Watch, hysterical. Carries an urn that contains the ashes of what authorities think might be a pet hamster. Refers to self as ‘Verola’ Larcener. Could prove a difficult case to cure. Doctor Azal.
Oh how sweet.......and I'm still sticking to my theory dammit.....
You rock
fett on 7/2/2005 at 04:23
He was careful to avoid the moderators on his way to the nursery tower. As luck would have it, the diary was all the way at far end, and a moderator roamed up and down between rusted old bed frames. Garrett evaded him and grabbed the diary, but more importantly, the nearby lectern provided his first clue about the old man:
[indent]INCIDENT REPORT
Type of Incident: Pants theft
Patients/Staff Members involved: Ashley S., Orphan
Witnesses/Informants: B. O’Reiley, Orphan
Description of Incidents: Two orphans were playing in the attic of the asylum area, when one of the patients must have stolen the girl’s pants. We commenced a thorough search of the patients quarters included full body cavity examinations, but no pants were found. The girl’s playmate, O’Reiley, insists the thief was some sort of entertainer, a ‘fat sweaty man’ not a patient. However, since he is just a child and commonly given over to conspiracy theories, and without other witnesses or evidence to back up his story, we can only conclude that one of the patients stole the girl’s pants, then hid them.
Conclusion(s): We should consider the possible stupidity of housing young orphans in the same facility with serial killers, psychopaths, and sexual deviants. At the very least, communal bathing must stop immediately! We are lucky the girl wants to become a pop singer, and will therefore have very little need of pants.[/indent]
“Pop singer huh?” Garrett asked into the air, “Ever heard of the ‘Tulmultous Cacaphony?’”
“No,” she replied, “True artists don’t sing karaoke, or lip synch.”
“So what can you tell me about this old man?”
“I was playing ‘doctor’ with my friend O’Reiley, but he never got my pants off. Instead, the old sweaty guy did. I tried to run, but the door was locked and I couldn’t get it open. All I remember after that was being blinded by gold jewelry. Then he was gone.”
“So you’re trapped here because some guy stole your pants?”
“No, I’m trapped here because the Crib remembers me – try to keep up.”
Blah blah blah thought Garrett, “So it’s back to the morgue now is it? You know, I was just down there…”
“Well if you want to leave you have to go down there again and burn my diary.”
“Ok, but is there anything else, and I mean anything that I need to do while I’m over here? ‘Cause I’m not coming back. This is it.”
“Nope, that’s all over here.”
Back in the morgue, he tossed the diary in and grabbed a few fire arrows from the incinerator, even though he knew flames held no fear for the moderators that stalked the halls of the Crib’s memory.
“My diary is gone. The Crib can barely remember me.”
“Uh…barely? It shouldn’t remember you at all.”
“It still remembers the urine stain in the attic.”
“BUILDINGS DON’T...”the moderator looked his direction, “Buildings don’t remember things!” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“You’ll need to clean it up in the past, where it’s always fresh.”
“Now I’m a janitor?” he cursed under his breath. I’ve saved the world twice, now I’m cleaning up pee…
“Sometimes when patients went to the treatment rooms,” she continued patiently, “they never came back. The staff used something called ‘Lysol’ to clean up afterwards. Get it and clean the urine stain in the attic, where I saw you the first time.”
“Sure! Anything else? Need your shoes shined or your butt wiped??!!!”
But the voice was gone. He muttered something about pushy spirit beings and went back through the swirling blue to the attic, and found the urine stain.
“Hey ghosty girl!” he called out, “Are there any rags around here anywhere?” He sprayed the Lysol onto the floorboards.
“Yes,” she replied, “If you’ll go back to the morgue, you’ll find a whole shelf full of…”
“NEVERMIND! I’ll use my loot bag. It’s worthless at this point anyway. Kind of like my ego…”
“You did it! The Crib can’t remember me anymore!”
“At all?”
“Nope.”
“You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Great. Can I leave now?”
“Yeah – meet me in the lobby and we’ll leave together.”
“Oh I’m sure you’d like that. Listen, my name ain’t ‘Jeeves’ and once I’m out of here I’m not going to be your lackey anymore got it? I’m not in this for the rebellion, and I’m not in it for you princess. I expect to be paid!”
“Huh? What rebellion?”
“Bah – nothing…” Been hanging around the Keeper’s too much lately…
“Garrett,” she said, “I have a few more things to show you about the old man that you seek. We need to leave together.”
“Great, fine, whatever. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
After dodging a few more moderators, he found her blue glow again in the foyer and they headed toward the front door together.
With another gaseous clamor, the Crib returned to it’s normal color.
Garrett counted to ten and got control of his temper. “What is it now?”
“Hmmm…uh…well…I think it may be that the Crib remembers you now.”
“That’s insane, even the people who animate me can’t remember what I look like.”
“Nevertheless,” she continued, “you’ll have to enter the past as your real self. There’s a cage in the storm cellar. You’ll have to go inside it and close the door and enter the Crib’s memory as your real self. But you can’t let the staff catch you this time, or you’ll be dead forever!”
Garrett was silent for a moment, “Did any of these even make sense on paper?”
“No, not really.”
The world around him turned sickly green again when he emerged from the cage and made his way to the staff tower. Ashley’s voice followed him.
“You did it – you’re in the past now. This is a different time, just before the end. You look like yourself now. Or at least like one of the many renderings of yourself. The Crib can see you. If the staff finds you, they’ll kill you. Go to the top of the staff tower.”
Green smoke billowed up everywhere and the sound of crackling flames assaulted him as he entered an area filled with desks. There were more patient histories lying around:
[indent]Case No. 2: Raven Luna – Patient History
Entry One: Subject brought in by City Watch for observation. Found by officers eating a meal of Spam and old cheese. Doctor Azal to take case.
Entry Two: Experimental treatments going poorly – patient seems to actually enjoy them. Cure unlikely. Subject allowed to move about among the orphans with escort. Recommend he be kept well fed at all times. Favorite place is the Meal Hall and may be allowed there as a reward for not sticking crochet needles in inappropriate places. Patient must not have access to metal utensils or plastic sporks. Also, remind staff to discourage patients from using “Spamboy” nickname.”[/indent]
And on another desk:
[indent]Case No. 3: Will U. Pitch – Patient History
Entry One: Delivered by City Watch under suspicion of indecent exposure. Patient has marked episodes of bedwetting, during which nose picking and other behaviors occur, with no recollection of ever being potty trained. Admitted for observation and treatment. – Doctor B. Hazard
Entry Two: Jello treatments having good effect. Unclear whether the treatment itself is sound, or if the subject is merely feigning proper behavior in order to avoid further submerging. Either way, jello looks cool when it jiggles so we’re going to keep doing it. Patient allowed to keep an unlit joint.
Entry Three: Patient caught forcing self to vomit into incinerator in the morgue. If patient is developing an affinity for the smell of burnt puke, could be useful to withhold access to solid food as punishment. Plenty of jello in pantries. [/indent]
The staff was just as scary as the patients…
It took him roughly twelve minutes to ride the elevator to the top of the tower. He found more desks there – and more patient histories.
[indent]Case No. 1: “DarthMRN” (?) – Patient History
Entry One: Subject arrived via City Watch escort. Perpetrator of the infamous Wedgie Man Incidents. Deemed unfit to stand trial. Wears underwear on head. Admitted for observation and treatement. Doctor Zaphod.
Entry Two: Sedatives and anal probe treatments ineffective. Posesses a stunning speed and agility. Extremely dangerous. Refuses to answer to own name. Other patients taken to calling him “DrthMRN”. Totally delusional. Recommed be kept in Seclusion Chamber. Doctor Azal.
Entry Three: Used ‘mind trick’ on nursing staff and made them give each other ‘nuclear’ wedgies. Nurse Kindo may never wear panties again. Nurse Mifune remains in sick ward – we were unable to reach her before Nurse Vogelfrei ripped her granny panties right off. Where did he get the pliers? Doctor Hazard.[/indent]
Garrett was jolted back to the present as a moderator schreeched and ran toward him. He suddenly realized he could use his weapons again.
“Ok, that’s it you freaks! I’ve had it! Screw Lytha style! Screw Ironmanning! And most of all," he threw a contemptuous glare around the room looking for Ashley, “Screw GHOSTING!!!!”
With a war cry he leapt to the table and let lose with an arsenal of fire arrows, flashbombs, mines, oil slicks, holy water, a few leftover scouting orbs that he didn’t use anymore, and several noisemakers just for the principle of the thing.
When his massacre was finished, silhouetted bodies of staff members littered the floor.
He heaved a sigh and slung his bow, “That felt really good. Ashley? You still here?”
“Yeah – you need to jump out the window now.”
“Come again?”
“I said you need to jump out the window.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you said I need to jump out the window.”
“Yeah – Jump. Out. The. Window.”
“Kiss. My. Ass.”
“Garrett! It’s the only way to make the Crib think you’re dead.”
"THAT’S BECAUSE I’LL BE DEAD YOU IDIOT!!!"
“No – you’ll only be dead in the Crib’s memory.”
“I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!”
“I’ll be waiting for you Garrett.”
He stepped up to the window. It was a long way down.
He closed his eyes.
It’s times like this when I really miss the Lost City.
And then he stepped off.
Yos on 7/2/2005 at 04:26
Quote:
The Shalebridge Crib. It used to be an insane asylum, and before that, an orphanage, and before that, a funeral home, and before that it was built on an Indian burial ground, and before that, the very property itself was cursed by the gods of hell. It’s been used as a film locale for about a dozen Stephen King and Dean Koontz movies, but it didn’t keep them from sucking. It looks pretty quiet right now. One night a fire started. No one knows how, but after that, they left the place abandoned. If there’s a way to cram more creepiness into a building, I can’t think of it. Zombies might help, but that’s been done to death. No pun intended.
What else makes this place evil? The concrete for the foundation was mixed with human blood rather than water?
Quote:
Case No. 7: K. Yos – Patient History
Entry One: Admitted to hospital for observation and treatment by family. Completely unresponsive to questions or the anal probe. Due to sensitive age, recommend patient be placed under Doctor Azal’s close scrutiny. Doctor B. Hazard.
Entry Three: The board has decided to allow patient to continue visiting balcony with rubber ducky. In the meantime, I recommend we experiment with the anal probe. Doctor Azal.
Umm... ouch. :eww: At least there's the duck! Quack quack.
Good stuff as usual
fett. This story feels so interactive now. :D :thumb:
Add: And good end half for the crib. (What a difference three minutes makes)
ewplissken on 7/2/2005 at 05:12
Classic
Quote:
With a war cry he leapt to the table and let lose with an arsenal of fire arrows, flashbombs, mines, oil slicks, holy water, a few leftover scouting orbs that he didn’t use anymore, and several noisemakers just for the principle of the thing.
So Garrett finally snaps. :ebil:
Quote:
A pubescent female voice reverberated throughout the room, “I heard you breathing…nobody does that in the Crib anymore…my name is Ashley…something changed when you saw my picture. I want to leave here but I can’t. The Crib won’t let anyone go. Will you help me?”
She pulled out a list.
This feels familiar.
Garrett has horrible luck with ghosts. :)
Pitch on 7/2/2005 at 17:02
:laff: :laff: :laff:
YOU ROCK, fett! :thumb:
This idea with forum members and moderators is just brilliant.
And thanks for adding me to the patient list! Really appreciate this. :D
Quote:
Case No. 3: Will U. Pitch – Patient History
Entry One: Delivered by City Watch under suspicion of indecent exposure. Patient has marked episodes of bedwetting, during which nose picking and other behaviors occur, with no recollection of ever being potty trained. Admitted for observation and treatment. – Doctor B. Hazard
Entry Two: Jello treatments having good effect. Unclear whether the treatment itself is sound, or if the subject is merely feigning proper behavior in order to avoid further submerging. Either way, jello looks cool when it jiggles so we’re going to keep doing it. Patient allowed to keep an unlit joint.
Entry Three: Patient caught forcing self to vomit into incinerator in the morgue. If patient is developing an affinity for the smell of burnt puke, could be useful to withhold access to solid food as punishment. Plenty of jello in pantries.
Oh, come on! Everyone's got his little problems. :sly:
