Post by Dackle on Jul 2, 2018 21:15:39 GMT -5
The Doctor is just stepping out of the jetway at Lambert/St. Louis Airport. His flight back from Seattle seemed to take forever. Maybe it was the crying baby two rows behind him, the 6-year old who was kicking his seat, or the fact he was bumped from 1st Class due to an overcrowded flight. Either way, he was glad to be on his way back to his new home.
His phone had died somewhere over Colorado. The in-flight movie was god awful (Jack and Jill), and the food was just this side of gruel. The ordeal was over. Baggage claim was just a two-minute walk away, then a limo, and back to a nice, warm, and familiar bed.
After negotiating the crowd of people, The Doctor picked up his garment bag and left the Southwest Terminal. Right in front of the doors was the black Lincoln that would ride him back to Elderwood. While Dylan Viper had Patient S729, The Doctor went to Seattle and enjoyed a mini vacation while speaking at a symposium about the effects of GFR72996.
As the door closed, The Doctor sighed. The standing ovation, the fresh sea air, the beautiful sunset over Puget Sound were all gone. Now he must go back to his job, babysitting this glorified lunatic. One good thing though, there should be one hell of a check waiting for him.
The Doctor plugged in his phone as jolted a bit as the chauffeur lurched the black luxury car into traffic. The Doctor landed at the height of rush hour. From the Chain of Rocks Bridge all the way to the I270-70 interchange, traffic was bumper-to-bumper.
While in traffic, the young kid, who couldn’t have been more than 21, tried to strike up a conversation with the Doctor. It was squashed immediately when the Doctor flipped a switch and the divider went up. He wanted to enjoy his last few minutes of a vacation.
After what seemed like an eternity, the Apple Logo lit up his screen. The start-up process finished, and immediately his phone began buzzing. 44 new messages. 40 were from colleagues, congratulating him on his success. The other four were by far the most interesting.
The first was a report from Marshall Zeke Evans, reporting that they had arrived back at Elderwood safely. The second was also from Marshall Evans, just six hours later. He seemed frantic, and his voice was shaky. Apparently, Patient S729 had woke up, was irate, and destroying everything. Twice with a stun gun he was shot. Twice it had no effect. A tranquilizer gun finally put him down. He was sound asleep.
The third message was from a woman. Sally had met the Doctor on a pier around sunset two days ago. It was right after the speech at the symposium, and the Doctor was still riding the high. They bumped into one another, the sparks flew, and the two shared a passionate night together in the Seattle Marriott. She had left before he woke up but left her number. She didn’t return his calls.
Her message, in a voice the Doctor thought was the sweetest thing he ever heard, explained she was married, and it was a one-night thing. She told him to forget her. She felt terrible for everything. She hung up a solemn goodbye.
The Doctor was choked up. He, much like Patient S729, was unlucky with women. Granted, he just met her, but she was intoxicating. Perhaps there would be another night, another time in which he felt unbridled passion and joy. He would give his left arm to feel that now. Instead, angst, frustration, and restlessness filled him.
There was a minibar to his left. He poured himself a Scotch on the Rocks and played the final message. It was dated July 2. On the other end was Dylan Viper. Through the phone, the Doctor could hear the crowd oohing and aahing at something. Viper’s voice was hoarse. The message consisted of two words: “We lost.”
The Doctor listened again and again, and each time his anger grew. It wasn’t that his drug had failed. If anything, it might have worked too well. His hypnosis proved effective. His anger had nothing to do with his professional life. His meal ticket, his big check that was supposed to be waiting on him wouldn’t be so big.
The final hour of the trip he spent contemplating a punishment for Patient S729. He cost him money, and he must pay.
The Doctor thought and concluded that would help both his professional career and exact revenge.
One thing about this wonder drug, Patient S729 had never experienced long term withdrawal from it. The Doctor knew it would cause great pain, and even undo all the work he has spent the last three months doing. But what the hell, he did it before, he can do it again. This mother fucker will pay.
Back at Elderwood, the Doctor met with the Marshalls. They informed him if he acts like that again, he won’t come home. The Doctor apologized and told the Marshalls to relax, the Doctor was in.
The joke fell on deaf ears. Patient S729 was locked securely in restraints in the observation room. He had refused to eat the entire trip. Good, the withdrawals will be magnified.
The Doctor walked into the room and jammed a needle into Patient S729’s neck. The drug took seconds to work, at which time he freed Patient S729 from the restraints and swiftly left the room.
Dackle came to in a padded room. His eyes struggled to adjust to the blinding light bouncing off the neon white walls. He knew this place all too well.
His head was hurting. Every time he closed his eyes, things seemed to flash back to him. A match with his old friend, painting underneath an oak tree, a plane ride to somewhere, attacking the Marshalls, events seemed to come back in fuzzy snap shots. He was dizzy, tired, and hungry. That was when he heard them.
The voices, his long-lost companions, were back. They were whispers he couldn’t make out but were definitely back. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He probably could have heard them better if his head wasn’t throbbing.
The Doctor, now behind the two-way glass, leaned back in his metal chair and put his feet up. He had every intention of giving Patient S729 the drug, eventually, but he had to suffer. Little did the Doctor know, the suffering was only beginning.
Sometime around 9:30, the Doctor had fallen asleep. He awoke with his alarm at 4 AM. He shook his head, as if to shake the cobwebs loose, and focused on the window. It was covered in something. The cameras in the room, were nothing but static. The Doctor, in a panic, pressed the large green button on the left.
The padded room filled with gas. Dackle, now able to hear the voices completely, had lot a lot of blood. He couldn’t hold his breath. He prayed this was the deadly poison gas the demons had told him it was. Death would be a welcome release, just to get his head to stop hurting.
The Doctor had to wait 20 minutes for the gas to clear. As panic was setting in, he realized the camera on his side of the two-way glass recorded everything.
He went to the playback. As he fast forwarded, he saw Patient S729 begin to hold his head and rock back and forth. About an hour later, nearly Midnight, Patient S729 began biting himself. He drew blood and let it puddle. He seemed to study it, almost enjoying watching it slowly drip out his arm.
When enough was pooled under him, he stuck his index finger in, and used the blood to write something on the wall. It took a minute for it to appear. At first it was just a date, 7/29/18, then the letters NOC were added. Patient S729 did this 17 more times, eight on the mirror. Before he passed out, he smeared the mirror with his blood. He was losing so much blood, his strength has failing him. He collapsed on the floor.
The camera only showed a red translucent mirror, but still picked up audio coming from the speaker in the observation room. Patient S729 kept muttering the date and “I challenge you.” Over and over for a good two hours until the Doctor gassed him.
Once the gas had dissipated, the Doctor rushed into the room. Dackle was unconscious, bleeding from his left forearm, and covered in the red stuff. He was all over the place, and the Doctor guessed he didn’t have much left.
The Doctor was in a conundrum. He couldn’t take Patient S729 to a hospital. The doctors there wouldn’t understand. He had not practiced real medicine in a decade. Sure, he could bandage the wound, but Patient S729 needed blood, and in a hurry.
The Marshalls, who saw the Doctor as he dragged his patient out of the restraints room, rushed to see the matter. While the Doctor had one apply pressure, Marshall Lee had his own crisis. Should he report this and risk losing one hell of a cushy assignment? The Doctor asked either one if they knew anyone who could help. Marshall Lee did, and realized this was how he could save his cushy assignment.
With two phone calls, Nurse Jackie Lee, Marshall Lee’s sister, was at the front door of Elderwood. She was rushed by her big brother to the study. There, Patient S729 was lying on a couch. His breath was shallow. His heart beat was faint.
With the swiftness of a cat and as smooth as butter, she scurried about. She affixed Patient S729 with a blood transfusion. She stole the blood from the bank at Barnes-Jewish. With two pints in him, some Demerol, and a healthy dose of GFR 72996, Patient S729 was stable. Nurse Lee was paid handsomely.
With the wonder drug in his system, Patient S729 would be his calm and collected alter-ego, Stevie. The Doctor, sitting in an easy chair, sipped scotch, and got lost in his thoughts. From his previous conversations with Mr. Viper, he knew what was coming on July 29.
A wry smile came over his face. He made two phone calls, one to Viper and one to an unknown voice. Viper agreed, and the arrangements were set. Viper would take Patient S729 to Night of Champions. He would put him in the ring and “unleash” him. Whoever answered the bell, well, they would deal with him. Patient S729 would undoubtedly crush whoever came out to the make shift challenge and get some of the PPV money. In turn, the Doctor would get some of that money. All the Doctor had to do was keep Patient S729 off GFR72996 for the day prior, sedate him, and let Viper do the rest.
He felt bad for whoever would face Patient S729. But nonetheless, the challenge was made. Whoever wanted a piece of “Scorpion” Steve Dackle could get them some, but face him at his most unhinged, deranged, and dangerous.
The Doctor took another sip and smiled, for he was about to unleash a monster the AXW, the XHF, and the World, would not be ready for. It is almost…….too easy.
His phone had died somewhere over Colorado. The in-flight movie was god awful (Jack and Jill), and the food was just this side of gruel. The ordeal was over. Baggage claim was just a two-minute walk away, then a limo, and back to a nice, warm, and familiar bed.
After negotiating the crowd of people, The Doctor picked up his garment bag and left the Southwest Terminal. Right in front of the doors was the black Lincoln that would ride him back to Elderwood. While Dylan Viper had Patient S729, The Doctor went to Seattle and enjoyed a mini vacation while speaking at a symposium about the effects of GFR72996.
As the door closed, The Doctor sighed. The standing ovation, the fresh sea air, the beautiful sunset over Puget Sound were all gone. Now he must go back to his job, babysitting this glorified lunatic. One good thing though, there should be one hell of a check waiting for him.
The Doctor plugged in his phone as jolted a bit as the chauffeur lurched the black luxury car into traffic. The Doctor landed at the height of rush hour. From the Chain of Rocks Bridge all the way to the I270-70 interchange, traffic was bumper-to-bumper.
While in traffic, the young kid, who couldn’t have been more than 21, tried to strike up a conversation with the Doctor. It was squashed immediately when the Doctor flipped a switch and the divider went up. He wanted to enjoy his last few minutes of a vacation.
After what seemed like an eternity, the Apple Logo lit up his screen. The start-up process finished, and immediately his phone began buzzing. 44 new messages. 40 were from colleagues, congratulating him on his success. The other four were by far the most interesting.
The first was a report from Marshall Zeke Evans, reporting that they had arrived back at Elderwood safely. The second was also from Marshall Evans, just six hours later. He seemed frantic, and his voice was shaky. Apparently, Patient S729 had woke up, was irate, and destroying everything. Twice with a stun gun he was shot. Twice it had no effect. A tranquilizer gun finally put him down. He was sound asleep.
The third message was from a woman. Sally had met the Doctor on a pier around sunset two days ago. It was right after the speech at the symposium, and the Doctor was still riding the high. They bumped into one another, the sparks flew, and the two shared a passionate night together in the Seattle Marriott. She had left before he woke up but left her number. She didn’t return his calls.
Her message, in a voice the Doctor thought was the sweetest thing he ever heard, explained she was married, and it was a one-night thing. She told him to forget her. She felt terrible for everything. She hung up a solemn goodbye.
The Doctor was choked up. He, much like Patient S729, was unlucky with women. Granted, he just met her, but she was intoxicating. Perhaps there would be another night, another time in which he felt unbridled passion and joy. He would give his left arm to feel that now. Instead, angst, frustration, and restlessness filled him.
There was a minibar to his left. He poured himself a Scotch on the Rocks and played the final message. It was dated July 2. On the other end was Dylan Viper. Through the phone, the Doctor could hear the crowd oohing and aahing at something. Viper’s voice was hoarse. The message consisted of two words: “We lost.”
The Doctor listened again and again, and each time his anger grew. It wasn’t that his drug had failed. If anything, it might have worked too well. His hypnosis proved effective. His anger had nothing to do with his professional life. His meal ticket, his big check that was supposed to be waiting on him wouldn’t be so big.
The final hour of the trip he spent contemplating a punishment for Patient S729. He cost him money, and he must pay.
The Doctor thought and concluded that would help both his professional career and exact revenge.
One thing about this wonder drug, Patient S729 had never experienced long term withdrawal from it. The Doctor knew it would cause great pain, and even undo all the work he has spent the last three months doing. But what the hell, he did it before, he can do it again. This mother fucker will pay.
Back at Elderwood, the Doctor met with the Marshalls. They informed him if he acts like that again, he won’t come home. The Doctor apologized and told the Marshalls to relax, the Doctor was in.
The joke fell on deaf ears. Patient S729 was locked securely in restraints in the observation room. He had refused to eat the entire trip. Good, the withdrawals will be magnified.
The Doctor walked into the room and jammed a needle into Patient S729’s neck. The drug took seconds to work, at which time he freed Patient S729 from the restraints and swiftly left the room.
Dackle came to in a padded room. His eyes struggled to adjust to the blinding light bouncing off the neon white walls. He knew this place all too well.
His head was hurting. Every time he closed his eyes, things seemed to flash back to him. A match with his old friend, painting underneath an oak tree, a plane ride to somewhere, attacking the Marshalls, events seemed to come back in fuzzy snap shots. He was dizzy, tired, and hungry. That was when he heard them.
The voices, his long-lost companions, were back. They were whispers he couldn’t make out but were definitely back. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He probably could have heard them better if his head wasn’t throbbing.
The Doctor, now behind the two-way glass, leaned back in his metal chair and put his feet up. He had every intention of giving Patient S729 the drug, eventually, but he had to suffer. Little did the Doctor know, the suffering was only beginning.
Sometime around 9:30, the Doctor had fallen asleep. He awoke with his alarm at 4 AM. He shook his head, as if to shake the cobwebs loose, and focused on the window. It was covered in something. The cameras in the room, were nothing but static. The Doctor, in a panic, pressed the large green button on the left.
The padded room filled with gas. Dackle, now able to hear the voices completely, had lot a lot of blood. He couldn’t hold his breath. He prayed this was the deadly poison gas the demons had told him it was. Death would be a welcome release, just to get his head to stop hurting.
The Doctor had to wait 20 minutes for the gas to clear. As panic was setting in, he realized the camera on his side of the two-way glass recorded everything.
He went to the playback. As he fast forwarded, he saw Patient S729 begin to hold his head and rock back and forth. About an hour later, nearly Midnight, Patient S729 began biting himself. He drew blood and let it puddle. He seemed to study it, almost enjoying watching it slowly drip out his arm.
When enough was pooled under him, he stuck his index finger in, and used the blood to write something on the wall. It took a minute for it to appear. At first it was just a date, 7/29/18, then the letters NOC were added. Patient S729 did this 17 more times, eight on the mirror. Before he passed out, he smeared the mirror with his blood. He was losing so much blood, his strength has failing him. He collapsed on the floor.
The camera only showed a red translucent mirror, but still picked up audio coming from the speaker in the observation room. Patient S729 kept muttering the date and “I challenge you.” Over and over for a good two hours until the Doctor gassed him.
Once the gas had dissipated, the Doctor rushed into the room. Dackle was unconscious, bleeding from his left forearm, and covered in the red stuff. He was all over the place, and the Doctor guessed he didn’t have much left.
The Doctor was in a conundrum. He couldn’t take Patient S729 to a hospital. The doctors there wouldn’t understand. He had not practiced real medicine in a decade. Sure, he could bandage the wound, but Patient S729 needed blood, and in a hurry.
The Marshalls, who saw the Doctor as he dragged his patient out of the restraints room, rushed to see the matter. While the Doctor had one apply pressure, Marshall Lee had his own crisis. Should he report this and risk losing one hell of a cushy assignment? The Doctor asked either one if they knew anyone who could help. Marshall Lee did, and realized this was how he could save his cushy assignment.
With two phone calls, Nurse Jackie Lee, Marshall Lee’s sister, was at the front door of Elderwood. She was rushed by her big brother to the study. There, Patient S729 was lying on a couch. His breath was shallow. His heart beat was faint.
With the swiftness of a cat and as smooth as butter, she scurried about. She affixed Patient S729 with a blood transfusion. She stole the blood from the bank at Barnes-Jewish. With two pints in him, some Demerol, and a healthy dose of GFR 72996, Patient S729 was stable. Nurse Lee was paid handsomely.
With the wonder drug in his system, Patient S729 would be his calm and collected alter-ego, Stevie. The Doctor, sitting in an easy chair, sipped scotch, and got lost in his thoughts. From his previous conversations with Mr. Viper, he knew what was coming on July 29.
A wry smile came over his face. He made two phone calls, one to Viper and one to an unknown voice. Viper agreed, and the arrangements were set. Viper would take Patient S729 to Night of Champions. He would put him in the ring and “unleash” him. Whoever answered the bell, well, they would deal with him. Patient S729 would undoubtedly crush whoever came out to the make shift challenge and get some of the PPV money. In turn, the Doctor would get some of that money. All the Doctor had to do was keep Patient S729 off GFR72996 for the day prior, sedate him, and let Viper do the rest.
He felt bad for whoever would face Patient S729. But nonetheless, the challenge was made. Whoever wanted a piece of “Scorpion” Steve Dackle could get them some, but face him at his most unhinged, deranged, and dangerous.
The Doctor took another sip and smiled, for he was about to unleash a monster the AXW, the XHF, and the World, would not be ready for. It is almost…….too easy.
