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Old 03-22-2017, 10:43 AM   #114
Icelander
 
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Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
Default Danger, Danger, High Voltage!

There are six keys on the guard keychain Taylor is trying on the locked door on the right side of the corridor. Naturally, the key he wants is the sixth he tries. Wanting to avoid anyone attacking him purely from fear or nervousness, Taylor addresses the inhabitants softly before opening the door.

Taylor: “Homeland Security. My name is Chase Taylor an’ we’s here to help.”

He doesn’t get any answer and when he opens the door, he can see four hospital beds with men in them and a nurse sitting in a chair by the wall. The magazine she was reading has fallen to the floor and she is cowering against the wall. Taylor recognises three of the men, all guards. Ball has gauze all over his head and leather straps are used to prevent his neck or head from moving, Roy is asleep without any readily apparent injuries and young Summers, from the dining hall, is unconscious with a broken nose, two black eyes and a host of bruises. Taylor raises his eyebrows at that, as Summers was fine when he left the dining hall and O’Toole didn’t mention running into any guards.

The fourth man seems to have the worst injuries. His bed is away from the other patients and judging from the preparations around him, attempts seem to have been made to sterilise as much as possible around him. A tracheotomy has been performed to allow him to breathe and he is going through fluid replacement. His exposed torso reveals horrific burn injuries over much of it. Taylor looks down and mouths a short prayer for the poor man. He carefully avoids aiming his shotgun in the direction of the injured men or their nurse, keeping it pointing downwards.

Taylor [to the nurse]: “I ain’t gonna hurt any o’ y’all. Wait for them Coast Guard boys and they is gonna bring y’all doctors an’ paramedics in a jiffy. Jes’, please, don’t go making any loud noises when I is gone or ya might startle somebody into violence an’ that wouldna end well. Kin I trust ya to be real calm?”
Nurse [surprisingly cooly]: “Sure, Mr. Taylor. No screaming.”
Taylor: “I figure you is lying to me, ma’am. Ain’t nothing I can do about it, neither. Jes’ keep in mind that screamin’ might could get more guards kilt than if’n they is allowed to jes’ give up. It’s over, ma’am. Warden Tyrrell done lost. A show o’ defiance what gets other folk kilt instead o’ you ain’t courage, ma’am. Please let’s try an’ do this as easy as we kin.”

The nurse doesn’t answer, but doesn’t scream immediately once he closes the door again. Taylor locks the door again with the key he used to open it and moves over to the open door that Dr. Anderson and O’Toole went through. Cherry Bell is standing by the door, aiming her shotgun down the long hallway that leads all the way to the lobby of the front central building of Manhanock Asylum, well over a hundred feet away.

Taylor [to Bell]: “You’re doin’ real fine, Lynnie. I kin hear lots o’ people in one of the large areas up ahead here, either the kitchen or dining hall from what I kin recollect o’ what the Doc said. I been hopin’ they is all them hostages, includin’ them folk I came here with. I’s gonna get them out an’ then we go up one floor, defend it until relieved.”

Bell nods jerkily. She’s tense, but appears focused on her job of covering the most likely route that guards could use. She’s crouching by the doorway to the room where the others are talking with Dr. King. A single frowning glance inside the room reveals that Bell might not be overjoyed at having rescued another Damsel in Distress, especially as Dr. King appears to be combining breathless admiration of Dr. Anderson and fetchingly elegant distress well enough for Anderson and O’Toole to have forgotten even the existence of their faithful guardian by the door.

Dr. King: “Oh, I… oh, goodness, you must think I’m such a scatterbrained little fool. I’m Emma King, staff psychologist here at Manhanock. Dr. Emma King, actually, though not really. Not like you, Dr. Anderson. I mean, I did just finish med school, but I still haven’t gotten a residency. Psych residency, obviously, which I am going to do here. Was going to.”
Dr. Anderson: “Quite. Do you mind if I ask what you mean by ‘fan of my work? Do you perhaps mean my novels?”
King: “Novels? No, I mean your articles on the nootropic potential of psychotropic neural pathway stimulation, the physiological basis of pharmacological reinforcement in behavioural conditioning and the hypothesised role of dreaming and REM sleep in cognitive behavioural therapy. And all the others. I believe I’ve read every article where you’re listed as one of the authors. I… uh, hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you’ve been a huge influence on my work. Well, not that I’ve actually done any work, yet, not really. God, I’m babbling! I mean, you’re the reason I went into psychiatry!”
Anderson [drily]: “I see. I was hoping that you had read some of my later work.”
King: “Oooh, are you working on something exciting now? It has been so long since you wrote anything!”
Anderson: “Well, I suppose you could say that I have been keeping busy. I have published quite a number of novels in electronic form. I have high hopes that they will come out in physical form soon. Publishers are interested. Most of my works are in the horror genre, but some are fantasy or thrillers with horror elements.”
[beat, Dr. King looks confused]
O’Toole: “Maybe more relevant to our situation, docs, would be why the [expletive] you’re locked in here, Dr. King?”
King: “Oh. Well, the guards were acting all strange and I objected when they said I couldn’t do my rounds. I demanded to speak with Warden Tyrrell, but he just had them toss me in here. He was very rude and intimidating. I have every intention of reporting him to the Chief Administrator and… and… perhaps even the police.”
Anderson: “I rather think that the police are already involved. We are waiting for the Coast Guard to show up, after Warden Tyrrell seems to have taken over Manhanock Asylum by force. He has kidnapped federal agents and may have killed people. I am afraid that he is still on the loose, along with a number of armed guards and we must take shelter as we wait for help.”
King: “Oh my!”

Dr. King seems very shocked at this news and grabs a hold of Dr. Anderson’s arm for support. In the doorway, Cherry Bell snorts under her breath. While Bell has until now quite liked Emma King, as one of the few people in Manhanock Asylum who were truly kind to her ever since she got there, Bell is discovering that if pressed, she could probably learn to detest Emma pretty quickly. Bitch is only like passably pretty and with all that fancy schooling up North, her la-di-dah Southern Belle shtick just has to be put on. I guess girls who have the vapours need lots of looking after, while just guarding your damn lives with a gun means you can forget all about me.

Taylor moved down the corridor in the other direction from where Bell is covering. He can hear lots of people trying to keep quiet, with a man occasionally whispering threats at them to stop anyone from moving or speaking, in the large area accessed through a door to the left. It’s either the kitchen or dining hall. To the right is a similarly large area, but Taylor can’t hear anyone in there. Taylor stops by the door and can hear two very tense men breathing close to it. He’s pretty sure that they are the guards and the hostages are some twenty feet away from them.

Dynamic entry all by his lonesome is pretty stupid. Using a flashbang would improve his odds, but would also bring every guard remaining on Jewell Island rushing for this location. Taylor quickly goes over his options, including the fact that he knows there are guards on the level above them in the front central building and they are trying to gather the courage to attack. That means Sherilyn has to keep covering their approach, not to mention the possibility of the SRT guards and Warden Tyrrell getting back. And O’Toole doesn’t seem to be cut out for tactical situations and the Doc isn’t trained for them. That leaves speed and violence of action.

Taylor kicks at the lock of the door. It splinters, but doesn’t open, so Taylor follows up with another kick. He is extremely aware that when he goes through the doorway, he will be shot at from close range, so instead of a traditional entry, Taylor dives in. Multiple shots ring out. Taylor is in a huge industrial kitchen. He can see two men, not wearing guard uniforms, holding M9 pistols. One of them is shooting, the other is aiming at him. Taylor emerges from his dive in a crouch with his shotgun aimed at the shooting guard, giving him one round in the solar plexus.

The round that Taylor thought was an advanced baton turns out to be something else. The man is knocked down and immediately goes into terrific convulsions as he is racked by a series of electrical shocks. Whoa, TASER batons! The second man gets a beanbag to the solar plexus, which is followed by a blow with the stock of the shotgun that disarms him of his pistol. Taylor swiftly securers the tased man, with an apologetic glance, before turning to the hostages.

There are more than ten of them, something like 13-14 people, but Taylor cannot spot Townsend, Burr or Berrocal. It seems to be mostly kitchen staff and orderlies. Shouting orders, Taylor communicates that this is a rescue and gets the senior kitchen staff to take command in moving everyone out in the corridor, heading for stairs that lead to the second floor, but wait for others before ascending. As he’s doing so, he hears a desperate voice that makes his heart sink, especially once automatic weapons fire begins in the direction of the front central building.

Bell [screaming]: “Chase! Help!
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