Asylum (Murdoch and Kristie)

First topic message reminder :

Nothing is easy when you're a patient at an institution for the mentally ill. No matter what you suffer from, there are troubles and tribulations that one must overcome in order to remain somewhat normal and in control of your own mind. Not to mention the fact that, at this particular institution, the treatments are radical and sometimes cruel and inhumane. As a new volunteer, your job is to interact with the patients and help them with their day to day tasks. So how will I, a patient, react when seeing you becomes part of my regular day? Will I dismiss you? Or will I let you get to know the person inside?
The setting, specifically, is a criminally insane asylum (or, at least, an asylum with a criminally insane section).


Myen Bioen, as they say in Germany, or as they call it, “Germanean”. Lol…

Name: Gregory Wilde
Nicknames: He was nicknamed “The Trickster” after his spate of killings in which the victims had been tricked out of everything they owned and then murdered, made to look like suicides. It took the police five years to catch up with him.
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Sexuality: Straight
Height: 6’9

Body Type: Gregory is tall, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. His muscles aren’t overly large, but are well defined.
Hair Colour: Natural? Black. But he’s dyed it purple.
Hair Style: Wild vertical spikes.
Eye Colour: A very dark green.
Facial Features: He has a somewhat squared, angular face with just a hint of curving.

Personality: Gregory is a tricky individual, being able to leap through loopholes like they were large hoops. He is intelligent and selfish, and does things just for the hell of it more then monetary gain. He is sort of arrogant, and views the entirety of life as a game in which the object is to cause as much trouble as possible.

Other: Find out.

History: Not much is known about his earlier life, and the name Gregory Wilde only appears six years ago, suggesting an alias that means he is not an easy man to work out the background of. He appeared six years ago, murdering 13 people after tricking them out of their possessions, and was on the run evading police for the next five years. He was thus nicknamed “The Trickster”. He takes immense pride in that nickname, and does his best to play up to that persona.

Wilde leans back, his eyebrow raised appraisingly. How adorable; she helps him because it's her job, even though he neither wants nor needs her help...maybe she'll think that she can cure him, or make some difference that the others didn't...already, even though she refuses to admit it, she thinks that she's making headway. She's been here longer than most other nurses, and actually has a dialogue with him. He hasn't shut her out, and she is getting information from him, slowly but surely...at least, that's what she thinks. He is allowing this "progress" because it suits him. She is suspicious of his motives...as well she should be. But she cannot possibly think to best him, or even to guess at his true plans. He is far too intelligent for her to even think of being able to predict him.

"So..." he says slowly, "In your professional opinion, what do you think is wrong with poor old Wilde? What do you think ails me so? What do you think causes me to make so poor life decisions?" He smiles at her sweetly - sickeningly sweetly - and winks. They both know that, whilst he is most probably a psychopath, there is nothing else mentally wrong with him...and yet, he was sentenced here, and unless he admits to being fine, there is no chance that he is getting transferred to a conventional prison. And to be honest...he doesn't think anybody wants him in a conventional prison.

“Besides being the walking definition of a narcissist? I haven’t a clue Mr. Wilde. Why you do what you did is still a mystery to me, and I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re ever going to allow me to know.. And that itself says something about you. I do however refuse to believe you’re just a comfort patient, like the other nurses and doctors here suggest. ” There wasn’t much else I could say towards that. He knows I’m not an idiot, and we’re both sitting here probably thinking the same thing.. Sanity is not in short supply in this room. People try to cure the physical ‘what’, the diagnosis, but my time with him tells me there is no cure for the ‘The Trickster’ inside Mr. Wilde. I’m much more interested in the ‘why’ it came to be, something from his past, or.. Maybe, he was just born this way. Whatever it is. I’d like to believe someday I’ll get it out of him.. Years from now perhaps.

“My time unfortunately is up. I know – I’m cutting it short, but with being gone that day I'm a bit behind on some other work. Before I leave though,” I reached into the pocket of my blazer and pulled out a tissue, extending my arm gesturing for him to take it,” I would like the mark cleaned off the wall. Just so I know there’s nothing that will get either of us in trouble – more so me than yourself. Now, either you can do it, or I ask you move towards the window, so I can.”

He smiles as she gets up; leaving so soon? Is she tiring of him? No, he doubts that. She is still intrigued, or she would not still be playing his game so willingly. She appears to have accepted that she cannot cure him, so she is probably staying due to the curiosity of what makes him tick; why he does what he does. Well, the simple answer? He enjoys it. But it's more than that to her; she wants to know why he enjoys it, why he gets his kicks from it. Was it something in his upbringing? Was there something that triggered his descent into sadism and psychopathy? Probably. In fact, he knows exactly why he started...but does it go beyond that? Does it go to his birth, was he born the way he is and only needed a catalyst to bring forth the monster? Well, there's a whole debate about that issue, and he doubts anybody will ever know the answer. Whether or not he lets her know what triggered it....well, that's a debate for his own head, and for another day.

He watches her for a moment. "So...you don't want to come over here to clean it if I'm here? Don't you trust me?" He smiles angelically. "What am I going to do? Take you hostage? Is that what you're afraid of?" He stands up languidly. "That I would use you as a bartering chip to get out? That I would threaten to snap your neck like a twig if I didn't see the door open?" he barks a laugh. "I wouldn't do that, for one simple reason...it wouldn't work. They wouldn't let me out of this cell, even if I had three nurses in here. Their fear of what I would do if set loose is far greater than the value they place on your life, girl. They would leave you to rot in here with me...or, they would let me go, but tranquilize me the second I turned my back." He reaches out, and takes the tissue. "I will clean the wall...you are, after all, busy." He smiles sweetly, and turns to begin wiping the wall clean.

As I sit and listen to him rant I keep thinking of the same line over and over again.. Is he being serious? Or is he joking? Was he actually trying to intimidate me with this speech regarding my over thinking of a situation? I think he needs to take a minute and listen to himself.. He’s blowing the entire thing out of proportion. And I find it almost funny. He implies I'm scared of him, to go near him. In some ways he is correct, I do get anxious and very uneasy when he is too close to be.. And I admit I was scared at first. But he makes valid points Ive been thinking about lately as well. What good would I be dead? Just killing someone because he can with no gain is not how Mr. Wilde works. I doubt with every bone in my body he will try to kill me anytime soon. He hasn’t got what he wants yet.. And he won’t until I say so.

Suggesting I think of myself valuable enough to be used a bartending chip is just his way of putting me down, making me feel insignificant in some sort of way. Kill some sort of confidence I have in myself. I remember when he spoke of feeling almost confident in a method of escaping this place.. Now he talks about how impossible it would be to get 10 feet from this prison. My belief in him being honest about anything he’s ever said to me is seriously dropping. He’s slipping, and I don’t know if I should be thankful, or worried.

I sat there, crossed my arms and watched him clean the wall with a very risky and large smirk on my face. One that didn’t need me to do it for him to know I was laughing a bit on the inside. I was a bit nervous after doing it.. But the thought of him bursting like before would be helpful. “You don’t need to be so dramatic, Mr. Wilde. Protocol tells me I need to be a certain distance from patients at all times, especially one as unpredictable as you. There are some rules I follow Mr. Wilde.. It’s not always my intense ‘fear’ of you.” Said with a lot more sarcasm than I usually take with him.. But I’d like to see what he does. "Thank you for cleaning the wall." I extended my arm again, waiting for him to give me the dirty tissue so I could leave.