Reunion? [Doc]

[Daciana (DELETED 6247)]

It had been a long journey, one that she hadn't known she was going to make, but here she was. Harper Rock didn't seem like much on the surface, no different from any of the dozens of other places Daciana had lived. And just like those places, she could blend in about as well as a neon sign. She wasn't abnormally tall or strong or anything, but goddamn if people didn't make comments about her size "for a woman." Either way, it had landed her a job working security at some auto place, so at least she had some money coming in.

Even the cabbie toting her to her destination seemed uneasy by her. Like she was gonna sprout horns and eat his firstborn or some ****. Whatever.

The place he pulled up to was damned huge, and the guy behind the wheel seemed even more uneasy. Winterbrook Asylum...you aren't really going in there, are you?

Dash hoisted herself out of the cab, reaching into her pocket for her wallet. Pulling free a few bills, she gives them a cursory glance and passes them to the driver. Yeah, I am. Closing the door behind her, she lightly pounds a fist on the roof of the cab, tucks her wallet away, and starts up the walk to the asylum.

She couldn't believe it when she'd heard it, when her drunken uncle slurred about how her father was still alive, locked away in some house for crazies across the border to the north. But he'd produced a worn paper from his wallet, scrawled with a number. One that she'd called, and confirmed. He was a patient there. Non-verbal, aside from the occasional incoherent babbling.

She supposed losing your family in a massive car wreck could do that to a guy. But how had he survived? Clearly this place knew who he was, and her uncle knew he was alive. Why hadn't she been contacted? Why hadn't she been told? Sure, she'd been a kid when it happened, but that's the kind of thing you'd think a little girl would want to know, right? Yeah, your family died in a horrific car crash. Bodies were burned beyond recognition, but hey, your dad's alive! So, you've got that going for you. And, oh hey, we're just gonna take him out of the country and shove him in a nut house for no apparent reason. Okay? Okay. Eat your vegetables.

So many questions she wasn't likely to get answers for. But, **** her, she was gonna try anyway. Stepping into the asylum, she cracks her knuckles, shifting her weight awkwardly between her feet. She wasn't sure where to go, or who to talk to. So she just...stood.

[Doc]

The accounts were in order, the inmates were all suitably quiet and well behaved. Well all of them, except the female; but she was sedated. Therefore Doc did not expect any issues for the rest of the evening. No issues at all, which is why the chime indicating the front door had opened took his full attention. He switched windows from the accounting software to the security camera software. As he looked at the screens, he remembered belatedly that the budget had scrapped the lobby camera. He would have to fix that.

Doc whistled and called out to get the attention of the sour puss nun Sister Mary Bethel, “Mary Bob,.. Come here!”

The nun entered the office, cleared her throat in a disapproving way and frostily said with a heavy Spanish accent,, “Et es Seester Marry Beethal.”

“Right. My bad.” His tone was impatient, as was his attempt at an apology. “Go see who is in the Lobby.”

The nun glowered at him, so he said louder and slower, knowing it was annoy because she wasn’t deaf, “Go… See.. Who is.. in the.. Lob-by.”

As she stomped off muttering in Spanish about him dying a horrible pox filled dead and burning in hell, Doc smirked at her retreating back, ‘I’m a Vampire *****.. there is no hell.’ He thought to himself. His smirk became wider when he envisioned her horror at realizing her precious bible was all one huge ******* lie. A few minutes later the nun returned, “Es for you.” She then sniffed in a haughty manner and stalked out.

Narrowing his eyes, Doc pondered how her blood would taste, would it be extra good because she had denied her the pleasures of the decadent wine, food and booze? Or would it be stale and coagulated, like her personality? Or would he rather just ******* kill her and incinerate the body? The latter, definitely.

Doc stood up from the desk, adjusted his tie, button his suit coat and adjusted his cuffs. Once he had assured himself that he was the epitome of what one would expect an Asylum administrator to be, he left the office, headed down the hall to stand in front of the security glass doors. On the other side of the security glass was a fairly tall female, young too, early twenties at most. He took his time making his assessment of her, his gaze was outwardly affable, perhaps even pleasant. However, inwardly he was suspicious. Was this one of the female’s friends, perhaps trying to bust her out?

In a move that would be perceived as casual, he reached up to engage the intercom. “Yes, how can I help you?”

[Daciana (DELETED 6247)]

Hands in her back pockets, Daciana cast her light grey gaze around the room she was in. Even for a lobby, it was stuffy, posh and professional. This place must have some budget, she mutters to herself. And then a thought occurred to her: Was she going to have to pay for her dad to be here? Did her uncle? She couldn't imagine that slobbering drunk, sitting in his tiny trailer, shelling out what little money he had to put his brother up in a place like this. That man couldn't be bothered to get Dash supplies for school at the Dollar Store when she was young.

No wonder she never graduated. Fat ******** was all too happy to sign the papers as her guardian to let her drop out.

Movement on the other side of the glass security doors caught her attention. Was that a nun? Huh. Never seen one of those in person before. She was given a cursory glance by the Hail Mary, and then the woman disappeared. Quirking an eyebrow, Dash leans back, stretching out her back.

The sudden sound of a voice through an intercom startled her more than she'd care to admit, snapping her attention first to the source of the sound high up on the wall to her left, then to the new figure opposite her behind the glass. The guy looked so professional, so expensive, it made her feel covered in ****. May as well have been, in her beat up old jeans, boots, and plain white tee. The heavy flannel shirt she wore over it, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, tied her trailer trash look together, she supposed. But, it wasn't like she had a real coat. Damned shirt worked just fine, stained and worn as it was.

Pulling a hand from her back pocket, she flicks her wrist in a curt, awkward wave. Uh...I'm here to see Randall James Devlin?

[Doc]

Of all the responses he expected, that one was not it. Randall James Devlin was a family killer. Randell had worked for the same company for fifteen years, and two weeks before Christmas he was fired for being ten minutes late. Fifteen years of faithful service ended abruptly. He had a pregnant wife and three children. The family was behind on their house payment, truck payment and electricity bill. THe medical bills were piling up, since the wife could no longer work. Randall at the end of his rope, went home and killed his wife and two oldest kids with a baseball bat.

The wife and mother, Elaine was thirty-three years old and had been on bedrest as the pregnancy had been difficult from the early days. The oldest child had been eleven years old, her name was Sharon. She was the image of her mother. Then there was seven year old Ben who loved baseball. The youngest child, a girl missed being killed by a mere thirty minutes. The babysitter was running late. By the time Randall realized the youngest child wasn't home, it was too late. The older children were dead, the wife was screaming. He had to end it. He planned on taking his own life as well with an old .22 pistol he had owned for years. But it jammed and he couldn’t unjam it. By this time, the neighbors had called the police who arrived to see the carnage that had been dealt to his family by his hand.

Doc looked over the young woman once more, this time with his mind moving to the macabre. Was this innocent looking female a serial killer groupie? He had o heard killer groupies, but he had no first hand knowledge on what to look for when faced with them. He tapped the code into the keypad and the glass security door opened. He entered to the lobby and let the door close behind him.

“Randall James Devlin? Are you quite sure?” His question didn’t really require an answer. “May I ask what your business is with Mr. Devlin?”

[Daciana (DELETED 6247)]

Watching the man, whom she assumed was a doctor, come into the lobby, she reaches into her back pocket. Producing her wallet, she reaches inside to pull out her ID, which she then offers to him.

Crossing her arms over her chest, wallet held between two fingers of one hand, she cants her stance to let one hip stick out. Sassy. He's my father, who, until about a week ago, I thought was dead. Now, having said that, I'd also like to say that if Randall James Devlin is alive, and is here, then I think as his caretakers you owe it to me to know if it's true.

Shifting her arm, Dash points at the man with the two fingers holding her wallet. And if it's true, then you better ******* let me in so I can beat his ***. She tilts the outstretched hand to take back the ID.

[Doc]

Doc accepts her ID and looks at it and then back at her. “These can be produced by any good desk top publisher nowadays.” He hands it back to her. He smiles ever so pleasantly at her.

“If you know what is good for you, you will forget this obsession with killers, and go back to where you are from. Maybe take up a ‘safe’ hobby of knitting.. or maybe macrame. Anything but serial killer groupie.”

He attempts to take her by the elbow and steer her back toward the entrance. “It was interesting meeting you .. Ms… I would say Devlin, but I doubt that is your real name. Good luck in your future endeavors..”

[Daciana (DELETED 6247)]

Midway through rolling her eyes, the man's words start actually making a sound in her ears. What? You think these ar-- Groupie!? Oh Hell n--! she stops abruptly, genuine anger bubbling over the sarcasm, and the buried apprehension. Jerking her arm out of reach, Daciana takes a step back, slipping her ID away and her wallet back into her pocket before raising her hands to show him her palms.

In a flash, her mind painted the picture for her: White trash-looking girl shows up, wanting to beat on the crazed felon to gain notoriety, something he probably saw on a fairly regular basis in a place like this.

Anger ebbed, giving way to a sliver of fragility in her usually snarky, sarcastic demeanor. Look, Doc, I'm really, really hoping this is a coincidence and there are just two Randall James Devlins out there. I'd much rather the one that had a wife, three kids, and one on the way be the guy that loved his family. That worked hard every day to make ends meet, and kissed his wife, and read stories to his kids. The one that died in a wreck on the way to the sitter's to pick up his three-year-old after taking the older ones to see Toy Story at the theater. I'd very much not like for everything I've ever known about my family isn't a big, fat ******* lie.

She puts her hands together in a mock-begging gesture. So please, please tell me why you would think I'd want that to be my life.

[Doc]

When the female showed her righteous indignation at being thought a murder groupie, Doc still did not believe her. Wasn't that the first reaction most people would have? Especially people that were in the habit of trying to trick others?

The one thing he expected that she would do ...she did not do.. was try her feminine wiles on him. No. Instead she played the innocence card. ‘Oh poor pitiful me.. I am jsut looking for my family...’

Doc gave her a level look. Adjusted his voice..”Oh.. poor you…” because quite honestly he did not believe her. “No all we have here is the Randall JAmes Devlin, family killer. A Brutal family killer at that. Sharon had her head split by a baseball bat in multiple blows. So many blows that it took three weeks to put the poor child’s face back together.. not the whole skull..just the face.”

Doc gave her a flat look. “But of course you knew all that ..did you not?” He leaned close and whispered, so that the cameras might see it but not hear it, “You insist on this course of action; and you may not like what happens..”