Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Casey Jones · (09-17-2013)

(OOC: I couldn't find a video of Sammy's version that wasn't live so...)

Doctor’s Journal
Monday 16th September 2013

Alexandra Callaway appeared today. Saying that she is in a mental crisis would be putting it mildly. She can’t decide where her feelings lie. With Mystica? With Mr MacAlister? She requested a mental evaluation, even going as far as leaving a note with Janet, but as I watched from my corner, observing her meeting with Eli in the shadows, her problem is not as apparent as I once thought. Whilst it can’t be denied that her emotional problems due to her troubled family life have had a key influence on her personality, there is more to her than that. She is an intriguing character, one that I shall watch very closely throughout my tenure here, both with Eli James and this organisation that I belong to as a whole. Besides that, my mind has mostly been occupied with the upcoming Wednesday evening, the day on which I shall engage Messers Cam Lang and Jason E Smith in a contest of skill and, dare I say it, violence. Both have shown distinctive anger. Both are attempting to use poor attempts at psychology to unnerve me. As kind as it was for Mr Lang to introduce himself to me, he lost me after the first vague threat of violence. It doesn’t matter to me how loud Lang can raise his voice, how detailed his threats can be. All that matters to me is whether he can carry these threats out. His record says that he may have more of a challenge than he would like to let on. This Wednesday will be a glorious occasion, what with Eli’s wedding, and my contest shortly before that will be a chance for me to show Eli how much I can. I will be providing a wedding present, if you will. It is a prospect I anticipate, and one that will be sure to capture the imaginations of those watching.

Goodbye for now…

To say that the room had been tidied up ahead of the important meeting would be stretching the truth to breaking point. The dust still coated the table like a blanket and the books still pushed the case that stacked them nearly to breaking point. Jones walked over to the ancient mirror he had propped against the wall and looked in it, adjusting the tie of his three piece grey suit. It was not for reasons of mere vanity that he did so. He was anticipating a make-or-break client, and while he doubted that the man in question would be particularly bothered about his appearance, it was always in his best interests to make a good first impression. He smiled at his reflection, reaching his hand to his recently repaired nose; it caused him no discomfort anymore.

When fully satisfied with his appearance, Jones moved back into the cramped leather chair that sat behind his desk. The desk itself was still covered an eruption of files, and he pushed them all together quickly and moved them to the side. Reaching slowly for the key in his inside pocket, he opened the safe below his desk and removed a file considerably larger than the ones that had previously lay strewn across the damaged old wood of the table. He looked down into the drawer again, and stared at the brown package that lay inside, a look of contemplation on his face. With a slam, he shut the drawer and looked once more at the large file that lay on the table. A coffee stain marked the name, rendering it almost unreadable. That was a source of bother for Jones. He wasn’t what someone would consider ‘OCD’, something highlighted by the shambolic state of his office, but it bothered him when the owners of files did not take care of them. Rest assured, the stain scored marks heavily against the previous owner of the file in question during his final evaluation. He heard a sudden knock at the door to his office. He looked up sharply, staring at the door. Upon the door opening and the identity of the knocker being revealed, Jones sat back in his chair and took a deep breath.

“What can I do for you Michael”? he smiled, fixing his visitor with a pleasant but stern look.

“He still not arrived?” Michael River asked, looking around the room carefully.

“Apparently not”

River walked into the room further, and sat down on the battered old couch with the dilapidated arms.

“You sure you don’t need me here? I don’t trust them…” River’s voice was calm and deep, his dark brown eyes staring a hole through Jones.

“Michael, Michael, you underestimate me. I know what I am doing”

“I know, but…”

“Michael, you need to relax” Jones said firmly, the smile not leaving his face. “He won’t cause me any harm. He won’t need to”

“I don’t think he cares…” began River.

“Michael, I think it would probably be better for the cause if you went to find Daxter” Jones interrupted. River opened his mouth to speak again, but shut it again, Jones nodding his head slowly but meaningfully. River immediately left the room, and, as he did so, as if on cue, the telephone on Jones’ desk buzzed into life. He pressed a button, sending it to speaker.

“He’s….he’s here…” came the shaken voice of an obviously terrified woman. Jones let the smile return to his face.

“Thank you Janet” he said quietly, reaching forwards for his glasses and perching them on the end of his nose. “Send him up”

After what seemed like mere seconds, the door opened again, this time violently. There was no polite knock this time, no hesitation. He entered the room in a slow manner, looking carefully around at his surroundings. His hands interlocked before separating again, an action the man repeated multiple times. He was a reasonably tall man, slightly taller than Jones himself, but the doctor estimated that the man’s height would pale in comparison to that of Michael River’s. Jones stood to his feet and motioned to the seat opposite his. The man looked at him nervously, staring down at the seat as if to check that there was no trap in place, no mechanism waiting to cause him harm. When he was fully satisfied that he was in no immediate danger, he took the seat opposite Jones, and gazed at him curiously, the faint look of paranoia still there.

“Good afternoon Mr Rex” Jones said calmly. In response, a flicker of recognition appeared on the man’s face, but disappeared. A frown briefly crossed the face of Jones, but was replaced almost immediately by the calm smile. “Perhaps you would prefer it if I called you Elisha?”

To that, the man nodded erratically, his hands continuing to interlock and then separate. He still did not speak, something Jones took note of, not taking his eyes off of his patient.

“My name is Casey Jones, Elisha. Do you know who I am?”

A look of contemplation appeared on the face of the man. Eventually he nodded, remembering what he had been told.

“Well, Elisha, I am here to help you…” began Jones, but he trailed off when he saw the man shake his head violently. He would have to try a different approach, apparently. “I understand that you have seen only one man before about your problems? A Dr Oliver Baker?”

Upon hearing the name of his doctor, Elisha snapped his head up, looking at Jones ever so slightly more confidently.

“Y-yes! Dr B-B-B-Baker! F-F-F-Friend!” he stammered, at last breaking his silence. Upon hearing the voice of his new patient, Jones scribbled a note in his black leather notebook.

“Dr Baker is your friend?” Jones asked. He was trying to get Elisha to speak as much as possible; the more he spoke, the more chance Jones had of helping him.

“Y-Y-Y-Yes….w-w-w-where L-L-L-Lacey?”

That was it. The trigger word that Jones had been eagerly anticipating. Throughout his career, he had never even heard of a case as unique as the one that Eli James had told him of with Elisha. He presumed that James was just being his usual, vague self, that he was making religious references to Elisha expelling the demons from his body. He never actually believed that Elisha’s case was as severe as it was.

“Lacey?” Jones asked softly, watching the man’s reaction.

“Y-Y-YES! Lace-Lay-Lacey!” Elisha shouted, the outburst causing Jones to smile to himself.

“Calm down, Elisha, if you will” Jones said, a firm tone to his voice. “Would you like to sit on the couch here?”

Elisha nodded somewhat, and Jones helped him to his feet, positioning him on the couch, laying him down like a father would a sick child.

“Is that better?”

Elisha nodded and murmured to himself, laying back on the sofa calmly.

“Elisha how does it make you feel when someone touches Lacey?” Jones asked, fixing his icy blue eyes firmly on the man sat on his couch. “Does it make you angry?”

Elisha nodded violently before relaxing into the couch once again.

“Okay Elisha, tell me about Cam Lang and Jason E Smith” Jones said, easing the unstable monster into the question.

“B-B-B-Bad…..killkillkill”

Jones smiled once again; Elisha, whether he knew it or not, was telling Jones exactly what he wanted to hear. What better way would there be to deal with his adversaries than with a practically insane behemoth with no regard for personal safety? Jones fixed his patient with a long look, contemplating his situation. Slowly he reached for the key on his desk and unlocked the drawer, removing the brown package on the inside. Carefully he stood and handed the package to Elisha, who looked at it, a look of pure confusion visibly on his face even through the mask.

“It’s a gift” Jones said kindly. “Open it, Elisha, maybe you shall find what you’re looking for”

Without another word, Elisha slowly, tentatively began to unwrap the brown package, until its contents spilled out onto his lap. The object immediately caught Elisha’s undivided attention. Without looking up at Jones he picked up the doll that the package contained and thrust it in Jones’ face.

“Hello Dr Jones” said the voice that came from Elisha. “You may be wondering about the state of my son, and you can disguise it any way you want, but we both know that you’re only interested in the match the two of you are competing in.”

Jones didn’t respond, and just watched, his eyes fixed on the doll.

“Do not worry, Dr Jones. My son will not let the two hurt you. My son will bury Cam Lang and Jason E Smith. They don’t stand a chance, despite what the two of them may think. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes”

“The only thing you need to be concerned about, Dr Jones, is getting in my son’s way. You see, at this moment he sees you as a friend, but believe me that could change in a heartbeat. Remain his friend and my son will be of great service to you. Anger him, and believe me, you will regret it”

“N-N-N-N-No…. f-f-f-f-f-f-f-friend…”

“Don’t interrupt me Elisha. We’ll speak soon Dr Jones…”

Without another word, the man sat on Casey Jones’ couch stood up and exited the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Casey Jones never liked to show surprise; indeed, very little actually did surprise him. As the man known as Elisha left the office that he called his own, however, the look on Jones’ face could best be described as dumbfounded.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Psychiatric Evaluation
Author	Message