St. Peter's Asylum discussion

High at the peak of St. Peter's, the attic is the doctor's secret hide out. Here, hundreds and hundreds of boxes are stashed up in this secret room, stuffed with all of the things the doctors had taken from all of the patients when they arrived. The attic, as far as the doctors know, is nonexistent to patients.

RP here.

A secret door had been found, hidden in the roof tiles. Quietly as she could, Cleo had lowered her pink-clad body into the opening and had found herself here. She found a room stashed full of dusty boxes but their belongings she couldn't yet sort through as she was hiding from Jason. From above, she could hear his muffled counting that was getting closer and closer to one. She sucked behind a big box and held her breathe with a grin. Hide-and-seek in a mental asylum was fun.

((Oops! Didn't see your post. XD))

From above her head came a muffled "Ready or not, here I come!" as Jason ventured back down to the asylum's main level to begin his search.

...

Sometime later (he wasn't judging the time) the sadist found himself back on the roof to think. He'd searched the entire place, it seemed, top to bottom--and then his eyes caught on a little gap in the roof tiles. St. Peter's was always miraculously neat and ordered, it seemed, so any disturbance of the peace fascinated him. The gap was approached, widened, and then Jason saw the door. A smile split his face. "Gotcha."

It had been a long time since Cleo had moved from her fetal position hidden by the box. She stretched herself out, thinking that Jason would never find her after all the time it had been. Her knees popped and her hips creaked in protest at the sudden movement. When she heard the trap door open, she froze. Jason? God, she hoped so.

"Oh, Cleo..." Jason called in a sing-song voice, trotting down the steps and looking around. "Come out, come out, where ever you are! You in here?" He glanced around again, looking for some sort of light switch.

Hoping that this shade of pink would be hidden in the dim light, Cleo looked around herself to make sure she was well hidden. Her jaw clenched when she realized that her foot had fallen asleep. Quite conveniently, it was the same foot that poked out from the cover of the box. Cleo muttered a curse under her breathe and tried to drag her foot across the floor and out of sight.

And Jason, who'd trained himself from an early age to pick up sounds like that--how else was one supposed to find mice to hang?--heard it easily. He slowly turned, a grin spreading across his face. "I have you now, little girl." He laughed at his own attempt to sound menacing, and to his surprise it fit the scene quite well, coming out maniacal.

"But you don't know where-er," she sang out quietly, and the dragging of the foot ceased. His maniacle laugh almost made Cleo chuckle, but she had shoved her first into her mouth to prevent her dead giveaway.

"And now I do." Jason gave a little chuckle, moving to swoop down and grab the girl by the arm, yanking her up. He silently thanked his enhanced hearing. "That was easy, Cleo. You gave yourself away!"

Cle remained crushed against the serial killer but wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yeah, yeah, well I couldn't keep my mouth shut. That isn't too surprising, right?" Her one knee buckled because it was still asleep. She began to stomp it against the floor of the attic.

"What's in this place anyway?" Jason asked, ignoring her stomps and kicking a box with his foot. It made a dull but metallic thud of a sound, like...like knives. A whole bunch of knives thrown together. "Cleo," Jason said slowly, realization beginning to dawn on him, "turn on a light. I think I saw one behind you when I came in."

Cleo unwound herself and managed to limp over to where she had been. By te time she had found the switch, her foot had woken itself up. "Okay." Light scorched the old boxes and them. She then saw some things peeking out of boxes. A handle to a whip, perhaps? "Jason, where are we?" She asked in wonder as she gripped the leather handle. "What is this place?"

Jason looked around at all the things. Whips, knives, toys of all sorts with sharp parts that could be used as weapons, he even saw a few guns. Having made a 360 to take it all in, he turned back to Cleo with eyes as wide as--once again--a child's on Christmas. "Wonderland, that's where."

A large smile tugged at her glossed lips at Jason's excitement. "Oh, this is great. Look at all this stuff, Jason!" Taking a step back for space, Cleo lashed her arm down to crack the whip. "How cool."

"Hold on, gimmie that." Jason took the whip from her and turned away so she would get hit, and cracked it hard against the air as he imagined a nurse on the end of it. His eyes closed and he sighed at the fantasy. "Ah. Sweet, sweet imagination."

"Hey, you know." Spotting a knife near a crummy box, Cleo picked it up and moved over to Jason's side and bumped him with her hip. "There's this really cool new thing. It's called sharing. Here." She held out the knife for him to take. "I know it's not yours, but it can be yours until we can get your old one back."

He traded weapons, grinning with a light laugh. "You bet. But tell me Cleo, who else should we tell about this?" He gestured around them. "So many people have lost their stuff up here. Don't you think we should tell 'em where it ended up?"

"Well, we shouldn't have everyone up here. It would cause a huge disruption in the patients and we'd get caught all trying to get up here." Like a baton, Cleo started waving the whip around to amuse herself. "So we shouldn't tell anyone, but maybe we can dole some of them out that we know who the owners are."

Jason nodded slowly, appealing to the idea. "Yeah," he said. "Okay."

"Well how do we know?" Cleo kicked a box and it jingled with the souNd of metal muffled by something soft. "There's no way we can go through all these boxes."

The blonde boy shrugged. "We might as well," he said, scanning the filled room again. "We have nothing else to do, after all."

"This is going to take forever!" She exclaimed as she plopped down beside a box and began to sort through it. "Thank god this stuff is actually interesting."

Jason did the same and began sorting through the box he thought held knives. Sure enough, there were several bundles of the little things; long and short, dull and sharp. His eyes glittered.

"Enjoying yourself?" She asked with amusement as she began to rifle through the weapons in her own box. Not just weapons like a mace and a couple pistols, but there were pictures of what must have been someone's victims. "Oh, gross. Look at this." She tossed the yellowing photos over into his lap. "Ew."

"Oh, sweet!" Jason rifled through the little pictures, taking in the quality of the murders. Simple gunshot wounds. A knifing. Someone who'd played Operation on somebody else's corpse. "That is so cool."

"That is so gross," she countered and snatched the pictures back. "These are so old, they're useless to us. There's no way the person who took these pictures is still living here."

Jason shrugged. "So let's start with what we know," he said. "Killers and people who are sadistic. Who do you know off the top of your head?"

"Raven," Cleo said automatically. He came to everyone's head now. "D, Matthia and Petra, I think Rosemarie counts, you, and that's all I can think of on the spot. You'd probably know more." Throwijg him an expectant look, Cleo began to sort through more boxes. Guns, knives, a machete, it seemed there was nothing but weapons up here.

Jason looked thoughtful. "Margot, maybe," he muttered, as if to himself. "And everyone else you said. Actually, I think you hit the nail on the head." He gestured about them. "Most of this stuff probably belongs to dead people, anyway. I bet they've been collecting ever since this place started."

Looking rather pleased with herself, Cleo stood up and wipe her hand on her shorts. She usually didn't talk to any of the mass murderers, they all frightened her except for Jason. To know than all right off the bat made her feel almost smart. "Well then I suppose whatever we don't recognize as someone's favored weapon of choice is "Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers."

"Let's go with that," Jason said, grinning. "So, what's in your box? These knives have got to be somebody's."

"Who else uses knives other than you? Everyone, I'm sure." In truth, te girl in pink was tempted to put one into her own pocket. In her dreams, she always had a knife even though she had no idea how to use one. Just to have one, it would jut be a taste of the dreams in real life, which made this sudden urge scare her and excite her.

"Probably a whole bunch of people," Jason said with a shrug. "It's not hard to use a knife. Not hard at all. Plus they're common and easy to conceal. It could belong to anyone."

"Well there's loads of them in here," she noted with a good shake of the box. "No one would care if they just got a random knife, right? I'm sure if they really cared about one special knife they would have marked it in some way."

"Yeah." Jason nodded in agreement. "And just so you know, I have Ares marked with a little 'J' on the back of the blade, so if you see him, hand him over, would you?"

"Of course!" Already, Cleo was opening the knifed and checking the blades. No 'J' yet, it would seem. Not many marks at all. Only one with a small star etched into the handle.

Meanwhile, Jason was also sorting through boxes, taking out weapons and organizing them in neat piles: not-so-weapons like toys, true weapons designed for slow deaths, ones for quick ends. So far he saw no sign of his beloved blade, but there was a lot of other places to look. "Say, Cleo," he said, getting an idea, "are the boxes labeled or organized some way? Like 'Such-and-such's stuff' or something?"

"I don't see any signs or anything." She picked a box up and inspected it. "They've all seemed sort of random to me. I found a children's book with a mace." As proof, Cleo held up the mace and Are You My Mother? by Doctor Seuss. "I don't think they care enough to label stuff. It's probably just thrown in here."

"That is so stupid," Jason muttered with an annoyed sigh. "People here are such dumbasses." Truthfully, he was upset about the treatment of the weapons. They had to be organized and cleaned and usable. Always. It was a rule the sadist lived by.

"And you're only just noticing that?" Cleo snorted, though kept a close eye on Jason. Anything could set him off, even with her around. Abused weapons could anger him. "Come here," she ordered with outstretched arms.

"Ummm...okay." Jason looked confused but stood up, gently setting down the little handgun he'd been inspecting a moment before. He walked over to Cleo and sat down beside her. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said with a shrug and hugged him tightly. "But maybe we should take a break got a while. It's getting stuffy up here."

"Okay," Jason said agreeably. He chuckled and pulled away, sending the pink-clad girl a teasing poke. "Can't handle a little bad air, Cleo?"

She swatted the hand away with a smirk, delivering a poke right back. "I can handle it just fine. My hair, on the other hand will frizz and no one can see it when it's frizzy"

"That's why I have mine shaved so close to my head," Jason replied with a laugh. "So I don't have to worry about that. But fine. Do you wanna go do something else or just part ways?"

"I think we'll leave the whole "girls shaving their heads thing" to Petra, okay? My hair is my vanity." She grappled a fistful and rubbed it along her cheek. "I've got. I've hot nothing better to do and most of the days gone, anyways. Why don't we go hang out for a bit longer?"

"'Kay. Where you wanna go?"

"I want to go out of this place to whatever's outside of here. I don't even remember now." She sighed, looking up at the trapdoor. "But we can't do that do let's just hang out in one of our dorms. I'm assuming mine because I would really be annoyed if guards keep poking their heads in every five minutes to see if I'm alive."

"Sure." Jason headed back out the trapdoor and held out his hand to help Cleo up.

Cleo took it despite her wanting to prove she was a big girl, and followed Jason out.

[Pûph?]