Setting
The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. Resting at the edge of the gloomy Cursed Woods beneath a massive, spiraling decline of stony stairs, The RIP is quite secluded from the rest of the civilized world. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place, its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating.
Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests".
As a government institution, the RIP is mostly guarded and maintained by the NPA. Enforcers patrol the castle at all times, specially-equipped to pin down even the most aggravated of superhuman inmates. The institution is also equipped with several well-supplied laboratories, the unseemly quantity of powered inmates making the place a breeding ground for scientific inquiry.
All scares and frights aside, The RIP is remarkably equipped, always prepared to accommodate superhumans of every shape and color. While the majority of The RIP is a sprawling prison/asylum, the facility does possess a few cultural outings, particularly the artistically-seasoned atria and lavishly-decorated dormitories. Were it not on the edge of a cursed forest and the home to hundreds of criminally-inclined superbeings, it would have made a nice hotel.
The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.
The 'RIP'
The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place; its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating. Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests". The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
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You are here. |
east |
southwest |
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southeast |
| "in" to The 'RIP' Atria » | ||
| "out" to The Decline » | ||
The 'RIP' is a part of 
The Decline.
11 Places in The 'RIP':
13 Characters Here
Joran Davrell [73] A former university professor, NPA Director and general overseer of The Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals.
Derrick Rose [6] A former stunt pilot, his skills are still sharp, but his reflexes are a little slower than they used to be.
Maxwell Gilbert [5] I'm an engineer not a goddamn magician! Well... I shouldn't be!
Sgt. Harvey Gladstone [4] "Move like you're being paid to!"
Nyke Demopolous [4] Gorgon's Watch Marine Corp First Division: First Regiment, First Batallion. The FNG
Eden Decimo [4] The False Divinity
Ahmad Fazari [4] Formerly senior aide to Terra's spymaster, and now the Deputy Director of Intelligence.
1st Lt. Mason Harding [4] "I don't care if you took a Bolter to the chest, when I say move, you move!"
Lawrence Artin [3] An older doctor, refined but with a spitfire of a personality.
Brian James [2] "I do what is needed of me, and I do not question it. If my Father wills it, it will be done."
Start Character Here »
Timo's pride was damaged with the offered host, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She expressed her disdain with the thing by spending as minimal time inside it as possible, lurking in her natural form until she could feel the membrane that held herself together dry and start to pull, so she'd slither back inside to moisten it.
Out of spite she started to eat pieces of it too, which looked like bloodless sores that covered the vampire's skin entirely. It made her sick but she didn't much care.
They couldn't break her any more than she already was upon realizing that her mate wasn't going to come and claim her.
"Loud and clear," she maintained her female voice despite outward appearances and sat down, resting hands on the table and in sight, as she was instructed. She moved the corpse around stiffly, not bothering with subtlety since she had nobody to hide from.
Out of spite she started to eat pieces of it too, which looked like bloodless sores that covered the vampire's skin entirely. It made her sick but she didn't much care.
They couldn't break her any more than she already was upon realizing that her mate wasn't going to come and claim her.
"Loud and clear," she maintained her female voice despite outward appearances and sat down, resting hands on the table and in sight, as she was instructed. She moved the corpse around stiffly, not bothering with subtlety since she had nobody to hide from.
"Good," the Enforcers nodded. Working at the RIP necessitated clashing with superpowered egos. Compliant inmates were a rare blessing.
It was then that a kind-looking, rosy-cheeked elder entered the cell, a fine-cut suit drapped over his broad shoulders and barrelled chest. He smiled warmly at Timo, nodding respectfully.
"Good evening, miss," he greeted her, "I am Director Joran Davrell, the general overseer of the Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals." He stepped back calmly, nodding to the two guards at the door. "Leave us." The Enforcers left, closing the blast door behind them. They were alone now.
Turning back to Timo, Joran assumed the seat opposite the dampir. "I welcome you to this little establishment..." he chuckled warmly, "though I imagine this isn't where you want to be right now." He clasped his hands together. "Tell me... do you know why you're here?"
It was then that a kind-looking, rosy-cheeked elder entered the cell, a fine-cut suit drapped over his broad shoulders and barrelled chest. He smiled warmly at Timo, nodding respectfully.
"Good evening, miss," he greeted her, "I am Director Joran Davrell, the general overseer of the Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals." He stepped back calmly, nodding to the two guards at the door. "Leave us." The Enforcers left, closing the blast door behind them. They were alone now.
Turning back to Timo, Joran assumed the seat opposite the dampir. "I welcome you to this little establishment..." he chuckled warmly, "though I imagine this isn't where you want to be right now." He clasped his hands together. "Tell me... do you know why you're here?"
"I'm a murderous monster, isn't that right?" she asked Joran. She wasn't in denial of anything, given she had time to think about it by her lonesome. If Petru wasn't going to come forth and fight for her, then she really must've been a monster that wasn't worth it. It wasn't her choice, she didn't ask to be born this horrible thing, but she couldn't help that she was tenacious, and outlasted death itself. She would outlast this as well.
"I've killed for basic necessity, for selfishness, and at times, even for pleasure. I don't have any delusions that I don't belong here. But, like you said, I wish I wasn't."
They looked alone, but she'd seen enough procedural crime dramas to know that somebody was behind at least one of these walls, looking, listening.
"You called me miss..." she noted.
"I've killed for basic necessity, for selfishness, and at times, even for pleasure. I don't have any delusions that I don't belong here. But, like you said, I wish I wasn't."
They looked alone, but she'd seen enough procedural crime dramas to know that somebody was behind at least one of these walls, looking, listening.
"You called me miss..." she noted.
"Your character," Joran smiled, almost sounding apologetic, "and your thought-patters both associate more with a... how shall I say this... a feminine 'tinge'. I know your kind are technically without a specific gender, but it is my personal diagnosis that you identify more as a woman then you do a man." He shrugged. "Of course, that is just my opinion. Professional opinion, at that. Psychology was part of my doctorate."
The professor relaxed in his chair, straightening the cuff-links on his jacket. "I admit that I am fascinated with you, Timo. I did not think dhampirs still existed... seeing one before me now is quite exciting." He smiled. "I would love to study you... to understand the mechanisms of your body and mind that incites you to be the wonderful biological wonder that you are." He laughed heartily. "A walking amoeba with camouflage abilities, equipped with digestive enzymes strong enough to decompose just about anything. It's magnificent, really."
A cheery silence passed between the two... before Joran's eyes darkened considerably. "That said, you ARE a criminal. You have killed many Terran citizens, often for no good reason at all." He cleared his throat. "I read the report of our dear friend, Mr. Kaye. While I agree that you belong in TNG custody, I'm afraid I do not share his..." He paused for a moment, selecting an appropriate word. "...narrow-minded views on morality. I do not think you are a 'monster', Timo. On the contrary, I would even argue that you have done more good for society then bad." He smiled again, a bit darker then usual. "I mean really... you EAT serial killers. The people your murdering are evil beings. Surely you've saved more lives then you've destroyed in your little game of survival..."
The professor relaxed in his chair, straightening the cuff-links on his jacket. "I admit that I am fascinated with you, Timo. I did not think dhampirs still existed... seeing one before me now is quite exciting." He smiled. "I would love to study you... to understand the mechanisms of your body and mind that incites you to be the wonderful biological wonder that you are." He laughed heartily. "A walking amoeba with camouflage abilities, equipped with digestive enzymes strong enough to decompose just about anything. It's magnificent, really."
A cheery silence passed between the two... before Joran's eyes darkened considerably. "That said, you ARE a criminal. You have killed many Terran citizens, often for no good reason at all." He cleared his throat. "I read the report of our dear friend, Mr. Kaye. While I agree that you belong in TNG custody, I'm afraid I do not share his..." He paused for a moment, selecting an appropriate word. "...narrow-minded views on morality. I do not think you are a 'monster', Timo. On the contrary, I would even argue that you have done more good for society then bad." He smiled again, a bit darker then usual. "I mean really... you EAT serial killers. The people your murdering are evil beings. Surely you've saved more lives then you've destroyed in your little game of survival..."
She remained straight-faced. Whether that was her doing, or simply because emoting was too much of a thing to ask her to do with this foul body was left for judgement. It was the PERFECT poker face.
"I don't feel much like a miss in this ugly thing," she replied on the chance that Joran's interest in her might earn her something more preferable. It didn't have to be perfect as her manufactured body, but anything, ANYTHING was better than this half-eaten pus-bag of a host.
"The last person who said I was magnificent has left me to rot away in your prison, so flattery will get you nowhere, doctor."
But at least he understood where she was coming from. Sure, vampires had a right to live, but that didn't mean they should. They were the new swarm of locusts, multiplying exponentially and literally sucking the life out of the city. She was pest-control. Nature found ways to fill the niches, and supernature did exactly the same.
"At least somebody sees it my way. I don't disagree with the ruling regarding the taking of human lives, but I can't help what I was bred to do."
That reminded her, aside from the spite eating of her host, she hadn't fed properly since before she was brought in. Had she a stomach, it would growl hollowly at the thought. "..."
"I don't feel much like a miss in this ugly thing," she replied on the chance that Joran's interest in her might earn her something more preferable. It didn't have to be perfect as her manufactured body, but anything, ANYTHING was better than this half-eaten pus-bag of a host.
"The last person who said I was magnificent has left me to rot away in your prison, so flattery will get you nowhere, doctor."
But at least he understood where she was coming from. Sure, vampires had a right to live, but that didn't mean they should. They were the new swarm of locusts, multiplying exponentially and literally sucking the life out of the city. She was pest-control. Nature found ways to fill the niches, and supernature did exactly the same.
"At least somebody sees it my way. I don't disagree with the ruling regarding the taking of human lives, but I can't help what I was bred to do."
That reminded her, aside from the spite eating of her host, she hadn't fed properly since before she was brought in. Had she a stomach, it would growl hollowly at the thought. "..."
"I am sure we can accommodate you into a host more befitting of your character," Joran smiled, "a woman as extraordinary such as yourself deserves a body and face to match." The doctor reclined. "In fact, I think you shall find that the NPA can accommodate almost anything you ask for. Entertainment. Education." His eyes glimmered. "Live food." Another knowing smile flitted over his jaw. "This can be a good place for you, Timo, provided that you are a good girl. We here at the Institute desire to help our guests, but we cannot do that if you resist us at every turn." He nodded reassuringly. "The more compliant you are here, the better your stay will be. I think you will find that I am a more agreeable captor then detective Kaye." He chuckled. "I've spoken with the man on a few occasions. An egoistic romantic. He sees the world in black-and-white; basic good-and-evil." He leaned forward in his chair. "But we are not romantics, are we, Timo? No. We are realists. We see the world as it is: grey. Not necessarily good nor evil... just existent the way it is."
The doctor crossed his arms. "I for one think it would be a travesty to deprive Terra of what is possibly its last dhampir."
The doctor crossed his arms. "I for one think it would be a travesty to deprive Terra of what is possibly its last dhampir."
"For now?" Joran asked, "your trust. I know it must be difficult for you... being in your current predicament." He nodded gravely. "But I hope that we can, in time, develop something akin to a friendship, you and I. You would make a marvelous assett to my personal team and study." The doctor rose swiftly.
"Until then, I shall personally endeavor to make your stay in the Institution as comfortable as possible," he smiled, "provided that you behave yourself, I think you shall soon find your situation quite to your liking." He briefly tugged at his sleeve, checking his watch. "I'm afraid I have business elsewhere, but I think we shall be seeing each other again soon shortly." Another warm smile.
"Perhaps I could have your full name before I leave, miss?" he asked politely, "I must admit, I feel quite juvenile calling you by what I assume to be your nickname."
"Until then, I shall personally endeavor to make your stay in the Institution as comfortable as possible," he smiled, "provided that you behave yourself, I think you shall soon find your situation quite to your liking." He briefly tugged at his sleeve, checking his watch. "I'm afraid I have business elsewhere, but I think we shall be seeing each other again soon shortly." Another warm smile.
"Perhaps I could have your full name before I leave, miss?" he asked politely, "I must admit, I feel quite juvenile calling you by what I assume to be your nickname."
Names had power, she knew that. And while Joran thought he had her all figured out, she knew next to nothing about him, and that was not something she could trust immediately. "With all due respect, doctor," she replied. "Timo is fine with me."
He wanted her name? He'd have to earn it.
"If you do want to make me more comfortable, a better host would be a good start."
She allowed him a mischievous grin before going flat-faced again.
She didn't know what to expect, good or bad, from her denial of such personal, valuable information, but she didn't want to be an open book from the beginning. Where was the fun in that?
He wanted her name? He'd have to earn it.
"If you do want to make me more comfortable, a better host would be a good start."
She allowed him a mischievous grin before going flat-faced again.
She didn't know what to expect, good or bad, from her denial of such personal, valuable information, but she didn't want to be an open book from the beginning. Where was the fun in that?
Joran Davrell smiled back at the dhampir in much the same manner. "I have only one question to ask before considering your request, Timo..."
"...dead or alive?"
"...dead or alive?"
Joran Davrell sat tentatively behind a large, oak wood desk, his brows furrowed as he perused through several stacks of neatly-filed paperwork. Like the rest of The RIP, Joran's office had a post-Romanesque feel, the decoration dark and neutral, the walls stony and sharp. A half-dead flame cackled quietly in a marble fireplace which, besides the lamp on Joran's desk, was the room's only source of lighting. His face was shadowed under the dim ambiance, his eyes quick and darting and they flitted between various portfolios. So much to do. So much to secure...
Suddenly, the phone on his desk quirked into life. "Doctor?"
The professor placed his finger down on the comm. "Go ahead, Samantha."
"Prisoner 0-67 is here to see you."
A smile briefly flitted across the NPA director's face "Send her in. I'll receive her in here."
"Right away sir." The comm died.
Joran pushed himself away from his work, reclining in his chair. His gaze shifted to his fireplace, the flickering flames reflected in his chestnut irises.
Suddenly, the phone on his desk quirked into life. "Doctor?"
The professor placed his finger down on the comm. "Go ahead, Samantha."
"Prisoner 0-67 is here to see you."
A smile briefly flitted across the NPA director's face "Send her in. I'll receive her in here."
"Right away sir." The comm died.
Joran pushed himself away from his work, reclining in his chair. His gaze shifted to his fireplace, the flickering flames reflected in his chestnut irises.
Though the jumpsuit she wore was still unflattering as hell, Timo was very happy with her new host, enough to try and make it look as pretty as she could with her limited resources. She'd been nothing but good since her first interview with Joran, though there was only so much she could do in her cell besides read and that got dull quickly. She wasn't meant to be caged up like this; she needed to roam, to hunt.
So she was relieved when she heard she was being summoned. It gave her a chance to look around the facility and at her fellow inmates, some of which were quiet, while others jeered and growled at her in her pretty little host.
She didn't bother to hide her expressions now, happy enough with her new body to actually work with it instead of merely inhabiting it like the last one.
She entered the office, arms behind her back.
"Mmmm, you wanted to see me, Doctor?"
So she was relieved when she heard she was being summoned. It gave her a chance to look around the facility and at her fellow inmates, some of which were quiet, while others jeered and growled at her in her pretty little host.
She didn't bother to hide her expressions now, happy enough with her new body to actually work with it instead of merely inhabiting it like the last one.
She entered the office, arms behind her back.
"Mmmm, you wanted to see me, Doctor?"
"Timo," Joran smiled, warmly, "it's good to see you again." He rose out of his chair, walking around his desk. "Your new host suits you well." He chuckled. "I trust you've enjoyed the food stockpiles I sent you? I hope you don't mind that I had it cut-up prior to delivery. I wasn't sure how you liked your meat."
The professor crossed his arms over his chest. "I summoned you here, Timo, because I'd like you to accompany me in a little errand. We have a new inmate in The RIP. As usual, I will be visiting him on his first day of incarceration. I'd like you to come with me. Be an example to him. Encourage him to be obedient." He stepped towards the door to his office, opening it for the dhampir. "Come we've already kept him waiting. We'll have to meet with Doctor Lawrence in the main atrium before we get to the prisoner, however. I'm afraid my officers had to wound her in order to arrest her. She'll need a full medical examination."
With that, the two would likely leave Joran's office and begin walking towards the main atrium.
The professor crossed his arms over his chest. "I summoned you here, Timo, because I'd like you to accompany me in a little errand. We have a new inmate in The RIP. As usual, I will be visiting him on his first day of incarceration. I'd like you to come with me. Be an example to him. Encourage him to be obedient." He stepped towards the door to his office, opening it for the dhampir. "Come we've already kept him waiting. We'll have to meet with Doctor Lawrence in the main atrium before we get to the prisoner, however. I'm afraid my officers had to wound her in order to arrest her. She'll need a full medical examination."
With that, the two would likely leave Joran's office and begin walking towards the main atrium.
Timo followed along. "The food's been lovely, but I don't care much for the butchery. But I'm also not really used to it." She was more used to either drinking a victim's insides out in a a corrosive kiss or engulfing them entirely. Anything chopped up was a novel concept to her.
"Of course, I'm the role model prisoner," Timo chuckled. "You're never going to get as lucky with anybody again, Doc," she assured.
She was curious though to see another part of the facility besides the cell block and Joran's office and the interrogation rooms, they passed prisoners again that howled at Timo and she rolled her host's eyes. "If only they'd cooperate..."
"Of course, I'm the role model prisoner," Timo chuckled. "You're never going to get as lucky with anybody again, Doc," she assured.
She was curious though to see another part of the facility besides the cell block and Joran's office and the interrogation rooms, they passed prisoners again that howled at Timo and she rolled her host's eyes. "If only they'd cooperate..."
"I'm afraid not everyone can be the model student that YOU are, my dear," Joran chuckled, "perhaps they'll learn a thing or two. Good behavior merits good living in The RIP." Joran looked over his shoulder at the girl, smiling. "And you've been a very good girl thus far."
As the two passed into the massive atrium of The RIP, they would find themselves caught in the hustle and bustle of the facility. Agents, Enforcers and doctors scurried this way and that, escorting prisoners, reviewing paperwork and talking among themselves. Joran walked quickly through the crowds, smiling and nodding to his coworkers as he went. Where was the doctor...?
As the two passed into the massive atrium of The RIP, they would find themselves caught in the hustle and bustle of the facility. Agents, Enforcers and doctors scurried this way and that, escorting prisoners, reviewing paperwork and talking among themselves. Joran walked quickly through the crowds, smiling and nodding to his coworkers as he went. Where was the doctor...?
Lawrence Artin slouched in against the wall, casually propping a foot up behind him to rest against the marble and support his body. He stood at the end of the main hall, waiting for his new boss, Davrell, to arrive.
Law was supposedly needed, but for what, he did not know. Of course, he was curious, but dwelling on that would do him no good now.
The man exhaled sharply and tipped his head up, leaving it to rest against the cool marble. Dark eyes carefully watched the doors, although he had no intent to stand to attention or anything like that. No, no, that would never be Lawrence's style.
Smirking, he let his head loll to one side, facing down the hall where he assumed Davrell would be. Flitting his eyes amongst his coworkers, he finally saw the man himself and pushed off from the wall, approaching the man with his customary slouch, hands in pockets. He strutted with a confident stride over into the center of the main atrium, asking as he walked, "Yeah, Doctah? I hear ya in need of me?" Lawrence stopped just before the man, peering up at him with a slight tilt to his head. "Wha's it that we'll be doin' today?"
Law was supposedly needed, but for what, he did not know. Of course, he was curious, but dwelling on that would do him no good now.
The man exhaled sharply and tipped his head up, leaving it to rest against the cool marble. Dark eyes carefully watched the doors, although he had no intent to stand to attention or anything like that. No, no, that would never be Lawrence's style.
Smirking, he let his head loll to one side, facing down the hall where he assumed Davrell would be. Flitting his eyes amongst his coworkers, he finally saw the man himself and pushed off from the wall, approaching the man with his customary slouch, hands in pockets. He strutted with a confident stride over into the center of the main atrium, asking as he walked, "Yeah, Doctah? I hear ya in need of me?" Lawrence stopped just before the man, peering up at him with a slight tilt to his head. "Wha's it that we'll be doin' today?"
"Ah. Mr. Artin," Joran smiled, offering the doctor his hand, "I'm afraid I haven't had the... pleasure... of meeting you in person." Davrell chose his words carefully. A man of prompt professionalism and tidy order, Lawrence's "laid back" aura was slightly unsettling to the disciplined director. Still. He was a medical doctor. His skills were needed.
"If you'll follow me, doctor," Joran nodded towards a nearby hallway, "I need you to conduct a medical examination on one of our latest inmates. Sonj Dahl, a cryoramancer. I'm afraid our agents had a tough time apprehending her. Aether heat. Burns along her right arm and some blunt trauma damage to her head. Nothing too serious." He looked over his shoulder at Lawrence as they walked. "...you haven't been on our staff for more then a week, have you, doctor?" He perked a curious brow. "I hope you're keeping up. The Institute can be a dangerous place at times."
"If you'll follow me, doctor," Joran nodded towards a nearby hallway, "I need you to conduct a medical examination on one of our latest inmates. Sonj Dahl, a cryoramancer. I'm afraid our agents had a tough time apprehending her. Aether heat. Burns along her right arm and some blunt trauma damage to her head. Nothing too serious." He looked over his shoulder at Lawrence as they walked. "...you haven't been on our staff for more then a week, have you, doctor?" He perked a curious brow. "I hope you're keeping up. The Institute can be a dangerous place at times."
Lawrence Artin "Pleasah's mine, Doctah," Lawrence said, careful to keep his demeanor friendly and warm while his eyes sized up this man. Once, he flitted them up and down his new boss, calculating as much as he could. Lawrence knew he had disturbed the man slightly, but his credentials were enough alone to grant him some sort of immunity, even here.
Lawrence perked up slightly at the mention of a medical examination. Half-listening and observing his surroundings, he snorted slightly.
A medical examination? For burns and trauma, really?
He was no petty physician, but he supposed that if this was what needed to be done, it might be interesting. Better than an office by any means.
Sighing, Lawrence replied "Sounds easy enough, eh? She gonna be any kinda trouble, or will this 'ere just be a straightlaced examination?" He quickly caught up to the doctor, matching his strides despite being smaller. "'A course it's dangerous, noplace really isn't. But I getcha meanin', and don't worry 'bout me, sir. I'm all caught up."
Lawrence perked up slightly at the mention of a medical examination. Half-listening and observing his surroundings, he snorted slightly.
A medical examination? For burns and trauma, really?
He was no petty physician, but he supposed that if this was what needed to be done, it might be interesting. Better than an office by any means.
Sighing, Lawrence replied "Sounds easy enough, eh? She gonna be any kinda trouble, or will this 'ere just be a straightlaced examination?" He quickly caught up to the doctor, matching his strides despite being smaller. "'A course it's dangerous, noplace really isn't. But I getcha meanin', and don't worry 'bout me, sir. I'm all caught up."
"I'm glad to hear it," Joran nodded, "the Institution is not for everyone. Only the strongest survive here." There was a foreboding edge to his voice. "I hope you are a strong man, doctor."
It was at this point that the pair would arrive at a re-enforced cell door. Two guards were posted outside.
"Is she safe?" Joran asked one of the Enforcers.
"Yessir," the trooper nodded, "handcuffed and sitting nicely in her chair. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Very good. Open the doors. Come along, doctor," Joran nodded to Lawrence, the heavy metal sliding back and permitting entry. Sonja would be seated in the center of the room at a table, no one else around. A small medkit would be on the table. As the two doctors entered, the door closed shut behind them. They were alone.
"Miss Dahl," Joran smiled, his voice warm and welcoming, "how very good to meet you at last. I confess, I enjoyed reading your apprehension report." He chuckled. "Freezing an armored bank van in place and making off with the loot. How quaint." He gestured towards Lawrence. "This is Doctor Artin. He'll be looking at this burns you received earlier."
It was at this point that the pair would arrive at a re-enforced cell door. Two guards were posted outside.
"Is she safe?" Joran asked one of the Enforcers.
"Yessir," the trooper nodded, "handcuffed and sitting nicely in her chair. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Very good. Open the doors. Come along, doctor," Joran nodded to Lawrence, the heavy metal sliding back and permitting entry. Sonja would be seated in the center of the room at a table, no one else around. A small medkit would be on the table. As the two doctors entered, the door closed shut behind them. They were alone.
"Miss Dahl," Joran smiled, his voice warm and welcoming, "how very good to meet you at last. I confess, I enjoyed reading your apprehension report." He chuckled. "Freezing an armored bank van in place and making off with the loot. How quaint." He gestured towards Lawrence. "This is Doctor Artin. He'll be looking at this burns you received earlier."
Sonja was seated quietly, her handcuffed hands resting on the table in front of her as she cast a watchful glance to the pair of doctors who had arrived. She had been fortunate in her arrest and though they might have felt otherwise, her injuries weren't severe. Despite having been struck by a moving vehicle, the woman had come out of the ordeal remarkably well, save for some bruising to her ribs and a light concussion.
The worst of her injuries weren't those suffered by the blunt trauma, but rather by the burns that had scorched the flesh of her right arm. The appendage had been bound in bandages from wrist to elbow, but they once pristine strips of cloth were stained through with grime and other fluids, likely having gone unchanged for the days it had taken her to arrive here.
However despite the difficulty undergone in her apprehension, once restrained the woman had remained remarkably amiable to her situation, seemingly taking her detainment in stride.
"A job's a job," she remarked indifferently.
The worst of her injuries weren't those suffered by the blunt trauma, but rather by the burns that had scorched the flesh of her right arm. The appendage had been bound in bandages from wrist to elbow, but they once pristine strips of cloth were stained through with grime and other fluids, likely having gone unchanged for the days it had taken her to arrive here.
However despite the difficulty undergone in her apprehension, once restrained the woman had remained remarkably amiable to her situation, seemingly taking her detainment in stride.
"A job's a job," she remarked indifferently.
“
There was a hardened look to Artin's eyes, "Don't worry, Doctah," for he knew that he was a strong man. He had outlasted many before him, and he would until the day he died.
With a nod to the guards, Lawrence felt much more confident with the situation. Handcuffed and behaving? Shouldn't be a problem. He had delt with raging drug addicts, flailing their limbs and anything they touched. Working in emergency rooms had honed his reflexes, and he was ready for anything.
He just had to be sure not to fuck up his first job.
Stepping through the metal door, he was assured that he could not.
Changing some bandages was a breeze, although he mentally began to calculate exactly what to look for in the event something nasty had infected her or got in.
He strode towards her, taking a pair of gloves from his suitcoat and quickly putting them on. From across the table, he raised a brow at her, "I'm here ta help yah, not interested in what gotcha here or what gave ya those," he gestured at her arm and the obvious trauma she had recieved, "So's how about you let me do my job with no fuss, eh? That sound good to you?"
Law cast a glance back at the Doctor, and quickly asked before he began, "Anythin' else I need ta know? Jus' an examination, yeah?" ”
With a nod to the guards, Lawrence felt much more confident with the situation. Handcuffed and behaving? Shouldn't be a problem. He had delt with raging drug addicts, flailing their limbs and anything they touched. Working in emergency rooms had honed his reflexes, and he was ready for anything.
He just had to be sure not to fuck up his first job.
Stepping through the metal door, he was assured that he could not.
Changing some bandages was a breeze, although he mentally began to calculate exactly what to look for in the event something nasty had infected her or got in.
He strode towards her, taking a pair of gloves from his suitcoat and quickly putting them on. From across the table, he raised a brow at her, "I'm here ta help yah, not interested in what gotcha here or what gave ya those," he gestured at her arm and the obvious trauma she had recieved, "So's how about you let me do my job with no fuss, eh? That sound good to you?"
Law cast a glance back at the Doctor, and quickly asked before he began, "Anythin' else I need ta know? Jus' an examination, yeah?" ”
"Just an examination," Joran nodded, smiling. He walked towards table calmly, assuming a seat across from Sonja. "And while you work, Ms. Dahl and I are going to have a little chat." He reclined in the seat, unbuttoning his jacket.
"I suppose you already know why you're here, miss Dahl," he began, "you have broken the law. You a criminal. A bandit." His gaze hardened. "Worse then that, however, you have abused your gifts and powers to harm society. That is why you are here, in the Institution, and not in some petty jail that you could escape from in a weeks time." He leaned forward in his chair. "I suppose I don't need to tell you how to behave here. You are to be a good girl. Obediant and passive. Stay out of trouble, and you will be rewarded. Stir up mischief, and you will be punished." His dark command suddenly dissolved back into his usual warm friendliness.
"Do we have an understanding?"
"I suppose you already know why you're here, miss Dahl," he began, "you have broken the law. You a criminal. A bandit." His gaze hardened. "Worse then that, however, you have abused your gifts and powers to harm society. That is why you are here, in the Institution, and not in some petty jail that you could escape from in a weeks time." He leaned forward in his chair. "I suppose I don't need to tell you how to behave here. You are to be a good girl. Obediant and passive. Stay out of trouble, and you will be rewarded. Stir up mischief, and you will be punished." His dark command suddenly dissolved back into his usual warm friendliness.
"Do we have an understanding?"
Sonja extended her arms out in front of her, atop the table to allow Lawrence to get at the bandages while she sat back in her chair.
"Look doc," she said, glancing to Joran through her unkempt locks of hair. "I'm not interested in some pat on the head or rewards. I'm just here to do my time and get gone."
"Look doc," she said, glancing to Joran through her unkempt locks of hair. "I'm not interested in some pat on the head or rewards. I'm just here to do my time and get gone."