Log:Radical Changes

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/01/29 Radical 10

Radical blinks as the light goes out. "Doctor? You there?" He reaches out to try to find her shoulder, while pulling his PDA to get a little light.

"I'm here. Don't worry, there should be backup generators for the emergency lights. Someone will turn them on," Dr. Grayson says calmly and quietly. He hears shuffling, guiding his hand and he manages to reach a shoulder. She was closer than her voice sounded. It feels a bit slick to the touch, and is higher than he remembers. Something a little sharp pricks his fingers.

The PDA's light turns on. As he lifts it, he reveals what he grabbed ahold of.

Standing 6' tall with impossibly pale, dull flesh, the living silhouette before you certainly was human... Once. Greasy grey hair hangs off of its head in long, stringy mats that loosely brush its bony shoulders. Black-brown eyes leers out from within sunken sockets with a steeply angled brow over top those sockets. Jagged teeth peek out from between thin, ochre-colored lips; yellowed with irregular green patterns, the teeth don't look at all human any longer.

Pallid flesh is stretched taut across bones with incorrectly arranged muscles creating unnaturally shaped lumps and bumps. The dark flesh cracks and splits over those inhuman muscles, exposing moister, darker flesh within. Ragged splinters of bone protrude from sloping, misshapen shoulders like a broad ruff of feathers or fur.

Androgynous in form now, this creature wears the tattered remnants of pink medical scrubs. Bony spurs and petrified spikes of flesh jut haphazardly from the disproportioned form, erupting from gaps in the torn, threadbare pink fabric. Thick, green-blue ichor - more syrup than recognizable bodily fluid - drizzles along long, slender arms. Hissing, bubbling droplets spatter free of its elongated, yellow-clawed fingers to evaporate into puffs of sickly yellow mist.

Long legs stretch from narrow, bony hips. Each leg has far too many joints, facilitating a curiously swift, effective gait in spite of its apparent bow-leggedness. Feet erupt from the shattered remnants of syrup-encrusted sneakers, but they're pointed nearly 180 degrees from human normal. Slick, inky tendrils emerge from the heel of either foot, undulating independently of the body and feet - toes, perhaps?

Somehow this thing ended up between and Doctor Grayson, because now he can see her two meters away, now staring in horror at the thing between them. Her jaw works to try and say something, but no sound comes out.

Radical blinks...and hopes to get some distance..but also to protect the doctor. He folds space twice in quick succession. A short teleport to where hte doctor is...and then he tries to take a hold of her shoulder to teleport again with her, another 18m away from the creature.

Radical takes hold of the doctor's arm and folds space again, stepping out onto the crunchy grass of the lawn outside the building. Things have been cold, so the ground is firm. He doesn't quite get to the main path that leads from the gate to the main door. "I can head back in to deal with the situation, but we might want to get some backup here."

The doctor is startled from the sudden relocation. She quickly whips her head around, expecting to see more as she steadies herself by gripping Radical's biceps. "What was that thing!? What WAS that!?" she demands in a panic, trying to comprehend. She must be new to the city, or at least new to eldritch horror.

Radical loosk back in the direction of the building. "I'm...not entirely sure. But I have a guess or two. A human that was corrupted by an otherworldly being of immense horror. The kind of thing that David Flyte can apparently see. I was able to see something from another dimension hanging around his cell." He looks over toward the security gate to see if there's magic there, wondering if the guard he saw earlier is similarly corrupted.

The gate is magic free, and the guard doesn't seem to be aware there's any issue. He's sitting in his booth, looking at his kindle.

Radical poitns toward the guard booth, "He isnt' corrupted, as far as I can tell. Go, get to some cover. That thing will be out here soon."

The doctor nods, but she looks like she's still in shock. She lets go of Radical and begins to run towards the booth.

Radical turns to face the building again, getting ready for anything that might come out a window...or a door. Or perhaps through the ground. That creature managed to sneak up without either of them noticing.

It takes some time at first. It's eerily quiet and the asylum remains dark. It's just the fading sounds of Dr. Grayson's footsteps, the beating of his heart, and the wind rustling the leafless branches of the trees about the lawn.

Finally, one of the side doors creaks and groans open, in desperate need of oiling. Nurse Ra'Chee'd shambles out, its gait swaying awkwardly between slow movements and fast, spastic ones.

Radical's read more than a few stories about forces twisting, corrupting, possessing, warping, or infesting them. Spirits, demons, supernatural monsters...perhaps he's even run into something as the Cartesian while facing the forces of chaos. Some of those corruptions manifest them in physical, and at times extreme ways.

And then a detail is remembered as he looks at the shambling creatures pink scrubs. The nurse at the front desk was wearing the same color scrubs.

Radical decides to try the full power blast first. If he can knock the creature out, she might be able to be saved. He raises both arms, and his coat billows as teh shockwave travels down his arms. A singularity is launched at the creature, aiming for center of mass.

The Nurse staggers back and twists from the blast's impact. Dark flesh splits and knits back together in a gruesome patchwork. It's spine is nearly twisted 180 degrees, then straightens out again. It's arms spread out. "SCREEEEEEEEeeeee!" It charges, as coordinated looking as an ostrich, and fast moving. It covers the distance between them and swipes its elongated, yellowish ichor-covered claws at Radical's stomach.

Somewhere in the city, Grimm sits bolt upright in her bed with a scream, covered in sweat. She catches her breath and rubs her eyes. "Just another nightmare..." she tries to convince herself.

Radical winces as he's struck through his armor, and it draws blood. "Son of a... You're faster than I thought."

Radical uses his mobility to make it tough for the creature to catch him. He blinks from where he is...and appears a good 18m away. Once more he fires, using the same setting, since the first attack was a glancing one.

Nurse Ra'Chee'd is sent rolling across the lawn with long limbs flailing until she strikes the outer wall of the asylum and slumps to the ground in a twisted, still heap.

Radical waits a second, just to confirm that she's remaining down. But then he teleports closer...and uses his point portal to reach at long distance...and try to heal the transformation with his magic.

The body shudders and convulses. Fingers twitch, and those bone spines bristle before withdrawing. Things contort, crack, and snap back into proportion as boney limbs fatten and become fleshed out to a healthy human hue. The front desk nurse lies unconscious, a bit battered, and in her torn scrubs.

Radical doesn't have the ability to heal wounds via magic, but he checks on her status, to make sure he's going to live.

Checking on the nurse, she's fine. A bit bruised, but in that other form, she was quite resilient.

Radical nods to himself...and then teleports over to where the guard and doctor are. "She's okay, if a bit bruised. I think Flyte transformed her. I need to do a quick sweep inside to make sure things are safe before you go back into the place. Did she deal with Flyte directly often?"

The guard is on the phone calling for backup and also maintenance. The Asylum lights flicker on, light coming through some of the windows again.

Dr. Lillian Grayson thinks for a few moments. "Not often now, no. The Director found out she was a bit of a fan of his and decided to reassign her to other patients. How could he do that? I was there with you. I didn't see anything." She's still rather shook from the experience, trying to keep focused and having to think about her answers.

Radical points to the guard, "Call the police. We'll need them to help clear things out." He winces and checks on his own wound. "Ow." He then turns back to the doctor, "I'm...not sure how he did it. I might be able to figure it out with some work, but not off the top of my head." He pauses and paces briefly, "Were any of the other staff members...fans of his?"

Dr. Grayson gasps at his wound. "You're bleeding!" she realizes, very concerned. She was too busy running to see it happen. That he's pacing proves he's okay. "I...I think one or two, but they're day shift, so they left a few hours ago."

Radical nods. "Yeah, I am. I'll...try to not bleed everywhere inside." He chuckles quietly, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll be okay. I don't want to take too many hits like that, though. How many other staff are on right now?"

"I don't know exactly. I'm really only out here to deal with a few of my patients from time to time, but I'd say maybe six or eight other staff inside?" Dr. Grayson hazards a guess.

Radical nods. "Alright. I'll do a quick sweep. If I'm not out in...let's say an hour, call Starguard in addition to the police."

Dr. Grayson nods and stays back with the gate guard. "Be careful."

Radical nods. "I will." There hasn't been any additional creatures that followed him out yet, which is good. Maybe there aren't any more here right now. He gets over to the gate, and he turns his special senses back on before he teleports inside the front door.

Back in the front lobby, the front nurse's desk is empty now. Abandoned, all that's there is a mug with tea in it, a computer, and a copy of a book titled "Darkness Between the Stars".

The lights are on again in this part of the asylum.

Radical scans the work area with his magic senses, at least partially to confirm that the novel itself has no magic attached to it.

There's no magic or enchantment upon the book. Radical can make out that the author is indeed David Flyte. The spine of the book is well worn and creased from repeat readings.

Radical nods to himself. At least the book isn't magic. But...that still begs the question how the transformation was accomplished. He then starts to quickly move through the rooms, looking partially for where the other staff members are and for anything else odd.

A sweep of the Asylum takes some time, but all staff are accounted for. Some were concerned about the blackout, and worried that an injured hero suddenly showed up, but otherwise, they were completely unaware of the incident. Nothing else seems to be odd. David Flyte is even still in his locked room.

There is ...something odd, actually. Most of the inmates, the raving mad ones, are awake now and gibbering loudly, laughing, shouting or barking abruptly. One of the cells Radical walks by gets him a pouty, whiny, flirty callout, "Hey, tall, dark, and bloody. Help a girl out, will you?" The female voice is cutesy and a little unnerving, 'catcalling' him in passing.

Radical stops, and tries to see who it is in that particular cell.

The med chart outside says Clarissa Davis.

"Hey, cutie patootie," a brown haired young lady with brown eyes peers through the small window view of her door. "C'mon, I want to come out and play!" she giggles.

Radical uses his PDA to take a photo of the name, to remind me to look it up later. He makes his way back to Flyte's cell.

Radical shakes his head, "I'm sure you do, Miss Davis. But not today."

"Awwwww. You're not fun," she pouts in disappointment. "Not yet," she giggles.

Radical raises a brow, but he has other things to deal with. This can wait. He gets to Flyte's cell and looks inside.

There's no sign of Flyte in the cell.

Until his face suddenly pops up and presses against the glass. "The Key WILL open the lock! You can't stop it! The Master won't allow it!" he bellows, then pulls his face back to claw and strike at the thick paned glass.

Radical does jump, but he regains his composure quickly. "Flyte, I know the future. The world will not be destroyed. Your master...will fail. If your master has been watching me, it knows who I am, and what I'm capable of."

"He knows. He watches," Flyte says in a wailing voice as he stops attacking the glass. "You...! You are nothing to the Master!" he boasts, unhinged and fanatical.

Radical likely won't get anything else out of Flyte for the moment. So he just stares for a bit, and then heads back outside. He needs to let the doctor and guard know things seem to be clear. And he needs to make sure the nurse gets medical attention.

Next: Log:Burnt Offering