The Psychiatric Office of Dr. Steele (CVnU)

@retriever: "Yes." The doctor stood to her feet, a delicate hand motioning to the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable. Normally, I suggest weapons be left outside of the office, but I'll make an exception in your case. You are Id's new servant, aren't you? What was your name?" Her blue eyes narrowed. "And what brings you here today?"

@the_psyentist: "Weapons?" Ana blinked once, before glancing at her sabers. "Ah, you mean these? These aren't weapons; these are my lovers. They drink too much, but they never leave my side." She gave Alexandra a smile that suggested she was at least half-serious. "Yes, I was sent here by the one in my head. He said I'm to help you; that must mean you need something violent." She gave a theatrical bow. "I am Red Ana, and I've been told that I'm very violent."

@retriever: Sitting down behind her intricately carved wooden desk, the psychiatrist gazed cooly at the woman. "Even so, lovers aren't usually allowed in the room as sessions are usually one-on-one. I don't currently have need for you. I'm not entirely sure why he sent you." She folded her hands upon her desk.

@the_psyentist: Ana dropped into a seat. "Not to worry; I will make them be quiet." She gazed at the doctor for a few moments, as though thinking of what else to say. "Maybe..." she began, hesitantly, "maybe you could...help me? With my thoughts?"

@retriever: Alexandra tilted her head. "Possibly." She nodded. "Tell me about these thoughts."

@the_psyentist: "That's the problem." Ana's personality had shifted dramatically. She now looked at Alexandra intensely, as her hands gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. "I...I can't always think clearly. I'll see something, or hear something, and it will seem important, and then...blood."

@retriever: The psionic mutant sighed. "So, are you saying you wish you had more control over your thoughts that led you to commit violence?"

@the_psyentist: "Oh, I don't mind the violence; blood is very sexy, don't you think?" Her mischievous grin returned for the barest of moments. "I kill them because they don't know where he is. Or if they do know, they're not telling me. Same thing. Dead." She drew a line across her throat with her finger, making a playful slashing noise with her lips.

@retriever: Alexandra crossed one leg over the other, shifting her weight behind her desk. "So, what is it you think your thoughts are missing?"

@the_psyentist: (mind if I squeeze in a session doc?)

@penumbra_fancy_: (Sure.)

@the_psyentist:

The shadow entity was stuck in a metal cast. It was made in such a way where even in Penumbra's intangible state he could not escape. He also could not move in it. Two men from the asylum wheeled the metal prison into the room. They set the object in an upright position and left. "I suppose we should get this over with" murmured the immortal.

@the_psyentist: "They're missing him. I mean, I know I need to find him, but I don't know why, anymore. I shouldn't have to. He shouldn't have left." She shook her head, as though trying to shake something loose. "And now, my thoughts of him are all...mixed up. Switched around."

@retriever: "Well, what do you remember of him? How are your thoughts muddled concerning him? He was someone important to you, I take it?"

@penumbra_fancy_: "Yes, indeed." She folded her hands upon her desk as her blue eyes examined the cast from her seated position. "I'm Dr. Steele. Tell me a bit about yourself."

@the_psyentist: "Well, he was my brother. Or he is, perhaps. Maybe he's still alive. I'm pretty sure he's dead, though. I need to find him." With out warning, she sprang to her feet, heading for the door. "Thank you, doctor-oh!" She drew up short, pulling a piece of paper from her jacket pocket and laying it on Alexandra's desk. "The number, for when you need me. I have to go." And with that, she dashed out.

@retriever: Xandra took the paper in her hand before casting a glance toward the woman. "Alright. Good day to you, Red Ana."

@the_psyentist:

The shadow creature tried to lift one of his arms, but the cast wrapped around them. He tried to lift a finger, but that also failed. He could not even change his form within this torture device. He decided to give up trying to escape and actually go along with the mental therapy session or whatever they call it these days. "The name is Penumbra Fancy and I am immortal. I also like Space Oddity. I am pretty sure that my file only says my name, along with the many hobbies I partake in". He began to laugh a little.

@penumbra_fancy_: "Yes, well. I always like for the client to tell me more than what the file says. Very often they are completely different things." She nodded. "What do you prefer to be called?"

@the_psyentist:

"My name is Penumbra Fancy. That is what the media calls me and that is the name I gave myself after my 'rebirth'. If that is too long Penumbra will do".

@penumbra_fancy_: "Alright, Penumbra. What is it that led to your incarceration?" Her ice blue eyes focused on the shape.

@the_psyentist: The immortal began to think about the various crimes he committed prior to his last incarceration. It was hard to pinpoint an exact crime that lead to imprisonment in a 30 year timespan. He began to smile, remembering all those good times. "Oh I don't know to be honest. Perhaps it was that time I caused that drunk to have an aneurysm. It could have been that time I made a cape out of one of my victim's skin" he said while chuckling. "So many crimes to pick, but which one is the right answer. Maybe it was when I tortured the police chief by making him watch me kill his family".

@penumbra_fancy_: "So, murder exclusively?" The psychiatrist sat emotionless, unshaken by the accounts, before scrawling down some notes on the file. "And you've been confined in this manner because of some ability of yours? Can you elaborate on that?"

@the_psyentist:

"I can control shadows and go intangible. It is really nifty. Sometimes I like to make my hands go intangible and force my victims to choke themselves".

@penumbra_fancy_: Alexandra nodded. "When did you first notice your homicidal tendencies? Was there any particular memories that stand out to you?"

@the_psyentist:

"I have been doing it for years, so I don't really remember my first act of murder. Hell I don't even remember where or when I was born!"

-_______- Yeah, she's got a problem.

Testifies!

@penumbra_fancy_: She wrote down a few words. "What and when is the earliest thing you can remember?"

@the_psyentist:

"Sometime during the American colonial period. I remember the witch trials in Salem quite well. It was always quite fun to possess some little girl and make her look like a witch. Then I sit back and watch the show". He began to stare at the doctor with a twisted grin. "I remember one girl screamed for her mom before it happened".

@penumbra_fancy_: "So, you are quite old then." Xandra nodded. "Why do you enjoy killing?"

@the_psyentist:

"To be honest it is rather fun, doctor. The screams before my victims die is exhilarating",

@penumbra_fancy_: "Do you find any other things in life exhilarating? Or is this the only hobby that gives you pleasure?" She tilted her head.

(I'm going to turn in for the night, but I'll respond tomorrow.)

Every other second the clock went tick, tick, tick, tick. His elbow tapped the side wall, the wall parallel to the plain wall with a simple wooden door attached. And he sat on the couch, the solid beige couch, a few inches apart from the wall, the wall parallel to the wall that concealed the good doctor inside, and he tapped that wall with every tick, tick, tick, tick. The young man with the tight grey long sleeves tapped the uninspired wall to that guaranteed sound, that tick, tick, tick, tick, waiting and waiting for the good doctor's call.

@the_psyentist: His wait wasn't that long, waiting long was waiting for someone to call mom, so he didn't freight too much when the door opened wide. "Good, evening." He muttered with a casual smile, a smile that was instinctual rather than genuine. He even muttered a respectful pleasantry as he entered through the open door, because it was expected. He muttered like a child as he pushed through the plain wooden door's empty frame, feeling manly as he entered with permission, and added an extra charismatic countenance that might as well have been hereditary.

"I thought you might have been closing." He murmured an almost insecurity as he huddled onto the couch. He held his right knee up, the other knee stretched outward with his foot planted firmly on the floor, and he slouched a bit forward, shyly smiling like a boy no older than sixteen, yet he looked so much older......so much older.

"I hope I wasn't taking you away from anything. It's just that I've got a real issue, doc. It's serious and I think you're the only one who can help me with it." He calmly uttered; waiting, watching, and counting the amount of ticks it'd take for her to muster the type response he wanted and waited to hear.

(It took a minute, but lemme know if it's okay)

@legacy_: Is this troy? :O

@pyrogram: yessir. I've got an idea for him...well an arc actually.

You read? :O

@legacy_: Of course I read, you dummy :P I loved it.

@pyrogram: Thanks. If this clicks than I'll be around. Most likely off days (which makes sense lol).

@legacy_: You've come and go so often dude, I don't know anymore >_<

@pyrogram: LOL! Hey, now. Even if I don't write...I come back for your weird self :D

@legacy_: Good :D And gimme those strange PM's :P

@pyrogram:

My pm titles aren't strange. They're very IC.

@legacy_: Alexandra smiled and sat down across from the boy in a chair. "There are plenty of hours in a day, darling. Don't worry about that." The doctor sat a pad of a paper in her lap, crossing one leg over the other. A manicured finger pulled a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Do you prefer to go by Troy? As you know, I'm Dr. Steele. Whatever your problem is, I will do my best to help you figure it out and assist in whatever way I can. So, what brings you here today?"

Hmmm...

Hmmmm too....

Five, six, seven ticks and then she started speaking. "Time is of the essence, doc." Six, seven, eight and he relinquished his grip on his knee. Without the self induced constraint the boy named Troy planted his foot beside the other, keeping last season's beaten up Versace sneakers aligned as he sat confidently upright.

"You can call me whatever you want doc. It doesn't really matter, because that's not my name, but it's also my name." His words were delivered with such indifference, but each word surged with the swagger of the stereotypical bad boy.

"If you read the papers my dad sent, the papers I hope he sent, you'd know I was recently put under his custody." Troy paused,unintentionally, but long enough to show the glimmer of innocence he once withheld.

"He's my sole caretaker right now and I don't think he's doing a great job. So, I came here for you doc. I came here because I've heard great things about you. And I need you to tell me the truth, to tell me I'm not crazy for thinking the things I think."

He looked at Doctor Steele (@the_psyentist) like he'd seen the most beautiful woman to ever breathe, he looked at her with this surreal desire, but it wasn't intentional......at least he thought so.

@legacy_: The doctor's brows furrowed over inquisitive, ice blue eyes as she listened to his words. 'Not my name, but it's also my name?' Hm. She twirled the pen in her fingers. "Well, for simplicity sake, I will call you Troy until such a time you find a name more fitting of your persona." She spoke with a cool yet accepting tone, her clinical training granting her an impersonality while still being warmly non-judgemental. "As for your father, he is not here. I am far more interested in your own assessment on the situation. As for a diagnosis of sanity..." her ruby lips curled into a clever smirk, "that is very much my job. Perhaps you can elaborate on these thoughts and why you think it might be perceived as 'crazy.'"

Alexandra's eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned her head back to observe the boy. There was more to this one than what he presented, but even what was visible was intriguing. She analyzed his body language noting a familiar expression of attraction. Her projection of benevolence continued as she patiently waited for more information to present itself.

"I'm cool with Troy." He muttered with an elongated sigh, because his official documents should have included his tenure in foster care. "For now, anyway." In truth, from time to time he had lived with different families, and some of them had went as far as giving him an entirely different name for their own possessive reasons.

"It's just that my dad comes with a lot of baggage. Some serious baggage if I'm being honest and he wants me to ignore it. My dad wants me to ignore anything prior to our reunion, and I just can't do that." Although he was now under the guardianship of his father, Troy wasn't feeling as comfortable as his dad wished they were.

"I think I'm a bad son, because I can't ignore the past. My dad wants me to pretend none of it ever happened, but it did happen. It all happened. I can't just forget it." He traced his lips, imagining the touch of the devil's lips pressed against his own......the taste of death still lingering inside his mouth.

"Am I wrong for wanting to tackle unresolved issues? Sometimes I think I might be." He left crumbs of the story in abstract interpretation, purposely trailing her along, attempting to persuade Dr. Steele (@the_psyentist) into asking more questions, because he enjoyed the attention of a woman. It comforted him so cozily, especially so in the absence of his mother.

As night settled in, a pack of immortals raced along the rooftops. Scattered abroad, the two outer flanks maintained their distance from the center to ensure that the perimeter was secure. In the center, the Greystoke Legend led from the front. Finally, he reached a nearby ledge and raised his right hand in a clenched fist. The immortals halted in their advance and were then signaled left and right to create a lookout perimeter. The company in the center maintained their position and focused on the office building which lay ahead.

Eight security personnel were sighted patrolling the grounds below - standard for an office building of that size. Signals passed along the rooftops confirmed. Moving back from the edge several paces, the Hunter gathered his strength and crouched down. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly - preparing for the long jump which lay before him.

With that, William opened his eyes and took off in a spring towards the rooftop's edge. As both feet touched the edge, the Lord of the Lycans planted in and then exploded in a powerful lunge. Silently, his body shot through the air like a bullet and soared above the security patrols down below.

Reaching out, William's palms caught the ledge of the office building's roof, followed by his feet as he landed in a crouching position. He then redirected the momentum of the lunge and flipped forward in the air. His feet touched the ground without making a sound as he made his way to the service entrance above.

With a subtle move of his finger and the flick of his wrist, a hidden spring-loaded blade shot its way down his outer forearm and locked itself in place. As he prepared to jam it into the doorway and pry the door open, his hearing picked up the distinct sound of heavy footprints making their way up the stairs towards the doorway.

Jumping back into the shadows, Greystoke watched as a security guard merely stepped outside for a cigarette. Yet, before the door closed, the Hunter slipped in without making a sound. After taking time to disable several of the cameras which could have easily spotted him, he sniffed the air.

She was still in the building...

Finally, after avoiding security measures, William found himself at the door of Dr. Steele's office. Just as he reached for the door, it swung open as Alexandra's secretary left for the day. As she walked down the hallway, Greystoke stepped out of the shadows and placed his fingertips on the door just before it closed and stepped into the seemingly empty office...

@legacy_: Alexandra nodded in response to his statements. "I do not believe you are wrong. Just because the past has passed, it does not mean is does not or will not effect the present. Loved ones, at least strong ones, will eventually be willing to unpack the baggage and find resolutions. Has your father expressed reasons for wanting to pretend it didn't happen?" A finger rested thoughtfully on her chin. She noted he seemed to be insistant on having her be interested by being purposefully ambiguous regarding his scenario. Instead of alluding to her understanding, Xandra went the more conservative route to open him up. "This is a safe place, Troy. Anything said here will not leave this office. I do have a ethical obligation to report if you pose a severe threat to yourself and others, but I usually know there are better ways of handling even such events. You can feel free to tell me anything. I'm here to listen. The more I know, the more I am likely to be able to help you."

"My father slept with the devil," he said so bluntly the wind was smacked, "and I'm what spawned." Troy pulled up his sleeves with an inherent need to show off his muscles, this inherent need to show off his hard earned attributes while smiling like he did it all for her.

"I have the devil inside me Doctor Steele and I want to let it out." He wasn't lying. He wasn't fabricating the story of his life. Honestly, for all intents and purposes there was an entity known as the devil's favorite demon that slumbered in the subconscious of the troubled young man.

"That's why I need you Doctor Steele. I heard you can work with minds and I want you to loosen me up. I want to be vulnerable again. I want to talk to Shinigami and put my past to rest." He pushed himself off his seat, breathing heavily as he glared at the supposed telepathic maestro with an unwavering desire.

"So, can you help me, doc? Can you help me put my past to rest?" Miss Steele wanted the truth, so he gave her a shade of it without so much as a moment's hesitation. "Please." In his heart of hearts he knew this was wrong, playing with fire like he did, but his father wouldn't help and he knew she would. And all he wanted was help, the help of a strong independent woman........like his mother.

@the_psyentist: (*Dramatic pause)

@cutthroatbitch: Adding an extra 'm' doesn't make hmmming better! xP lol

@the_psyentist: ( Short but to the point =s )

"Dr. Alexandra Steel... I wonder how she got that name?" The Mistress of Nature thought silently to herself as she sat within the waiting room of the psychiatric office reading a brochure of said establishment. It had taken Rose a good bit of time and effort to track down some members of her corrupted little family, but the White Queen was by far the hardest and her information was the most well protected.

The verdant vixen was, however, very good at tracking people down; and Alexandra failed to be an exception to her skills. Rose hadn't come with violent intentions, or any in particular a matter of fact. She merely saw a powerful connection as an opportunity... now moreso than others. Dressed in a put-together formal outfit that, although most would see it as perfectly normal aside from a greenish tone, was in reality a masterfully woven connection of the thinnest of vines. Rose considered herself above the use of normal clothing, even if it wasn't exactly obvious; none but the most perceptive of appearances would notice the subtle differences, allowing the mutant-made goddess to fit seamlessly into society when she needed to.