DISCLAIMER:- This is a satirical piece, purely constructed for the
enjoyment of fellow Lecterphiles. I have been given full consent to use the
names, real or otherwise, of the people (Lecterphiles) featured in this
story. I am in no way liable for defamation of character. Nor am I in any
way affiliated with Thomas Harris, Anthony Hopkins, Jodie Foster or
Julianne Moore. No Profit or gain is being made.
Now enough of the legal dribble, let's have some fun, shall we?
"Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane" -LadyOfTruths
"No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness." -Aristotle
Behavioural Science, the FBI section that deals with serial murders, or so it so avidly claims, is on the bottom floor of the Academy building at Quantico. Quin O'Grady, Special Agent, with a dual degree in psychology and refined neological science, approached one of the offices there, and confronted a large pale green door with a sturdy knock.
His age is unpredictable, but we can presume that he is past the healthiest prime of his life. Quin O'Grady is not a young man. Apart from the streaks of grey in his hair, age seemed to be an insignificant issue that his features never had to battle. His skin was tanned and healthy, his build was lean and modestly athletic, and his eyes shined like pure gems. None of that surface shine, this was the real deal. Some may argue his flawless perception and eyesight is product of prescription contacts, but you can make that judgement yourself.
No reply comes from within as his knock echoes through the hallway. O'Grady opens the door to find his boss, Section Chief Jacqueline Ford, ending her telephone conversation with a sharp 'Thank you'. He nodded at the younger, well-built woman, and took a seat in the chair opposing hers. The excitement in her eyes reflected through the cheap metal rims of her glasses, he briefly regretting being summoned at her request.
"O'Grady, Quinton T., good morning" she said.
" Mrs Ford" His smile was only polite.
She flipped through the stack of folders on her desk, taking a minute to process the printed text on each form. " Quite an impressive record you have with us here, O'Grady."
" I try." His response was brief, yet polite.
" I'll cut to the chase. The men above me have found, shall we say.an interesting discrepancy amongst the minds of society. Usually it's none of our business, but forensics believe that through further investigation, some fundamental psychological and neurological profiles can be recorded." Her longwinded introduction left a lot to be desired.
" You're familiar with Hannibal Lecter?" She asked again, slightly annoyed at his lack of response.
Was she joking? This whole set up was a copy of The Silence of the freakin' Lambs.
"I've read the books and seen the movie. Yes, I am familiar with his character" He was sure to emphasise the reality of his statement.
" I realise this may sound a little.ridiculous Agent O'Grady, but the benefits to come out of this investigation will far outweigh its comical nature. Do I have your full attention?" Her eyes held his. To Quin, she sounded a hell ova lot like that Crawford guy.
What the hell kind of joke is this?
"Of course" He's play along for now. At least until he had an educated excuse to decline whatever case she was creating here.
" You might be aware of the recently established Mental Clinic in Baltimore? The Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane?" She was serious. Her light hair stirred gracefully as she jarred her neck questioningly.
"I'm familiar. The Tattler has printed a few articles."
" Do you spook easily, O'Grady?" She peered over the top of her glasses.
Ha. Where do these people get off?
"No. Never"
" There are some thirteen residence at the hospital, all self-confessed Hannibal Lecter addicts. We'd like to produce a psychological and neurological profiling database on the thinking patterns of such subjects. As of yet, no agent or journalist has left there in the same state as they entered." She opened another thick folder and shifted it across the desk. If she hadn't of been so intently focused, O'Grady would have laughed along with what appeared to be a finely crafted joke. " I hope you don't consider this below you, O'Grady." Whoops, had she read his mind? "The patients here should be interviewed with the same amount of trepidation you'd feel when faced with dangerous felons."
Oh yeah, I've *really* pissed someone off!
" What's the purpose of this investigation? Forgive me for being so direct, but what's the urgency? These people aren't out to hurt anyone." O'Grady moved forward in his seat, opening the folder to expose a think pile of forms and photos. " This hasn't got anything to do with that guy who's stalking Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore? I heard its gone federal now."
Ford sharply interrupted him. " This investigation is for the sole purpose of establishing a new data base, Agent O'Grady. If you find yourself incapable of such a task, I'll call another office."
"That won't be necessary Ms Ford." He nodded towards the pile of clumped photos. "These are the subjects?"
"Yes, all thirteen of them. Now listen to me. I don't expect them to cooperate, they'll most likely find this amusing. Dr. Fredrickson, the head of the hospital, will go over the physical procedures you are to use with them. Don't deviate from them, this group is out to play with you. If they refuse to speak, just record normal behavioural patterns, how do they communicate, what are they doing, are the drawing, if so, what are they drawing. You know the run, O'Grady." She looked at him expectantly. " Your evaluation report is due on my desk by the end of the week."
"Right." After skimming through a few of the sketchy profiles, he closed the folders and stood to leave.
"Don't go in there with an apathetic attitude, O'Grady, this holds more value than you are aware" Jacqueline Ford rose out of her comfortable recliner to show him out of her modestly sized office. She pulled the length of her A-line skirt over her knees as if to attract necessary attention to her lower half. O'Grady's eyes never wandered. His lack of interest irked her.
Yeah, that's right lady. Some people joined the Bureau to *work*
" I'll have it on your desk at the end of the week. Good day, Ms Ford." She held the door for him as he made his way though the narrow, poster- cluttered hallway.
*~*~*~*~*~
Dr. Chilton Fredrickson, fifty-five, head administrator of the Baltimore State Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane, has a long narrow desk, piled with papers and cheap cards signed by acquaintances that he probably made up. He remained seated when Quin O'Grady came into his office.
The foundation of O'Grady's dislike began as soon as their eyes met. Dr. Chilton Fredrickson sat at his cheap desk with his brightly shined shoes resting on the buffed corners. He needed a good shave, his dark moustache was running way of course, and hairs were sprouting out in an asymmetrical pattern across his face.
" We've had a few detectives in here lately, but I can't remember one quite so attractive." He still sat casually behind his desk.
Oh. My. God.
"Dr. Fredrickson." O'Grady extended his hand unwillingly as he approached the desk. "Quinton O'Grady, F.B.I" He controlled the grimace which temped to splash over his features as his hand was gently, but wholly, grasped by that of the hairy Dr. Fredrickson.
"Will you be staying in Baltimore for a while?" There was an energised twinkle dancing in his eyes.
Let go of my hand asshole! O'Grady reefed his hand back to his side.
"I'll be reporting back to my field office this afternoon" He lifted his briefcase up on Fredrickson's desk to place a barrier between them. " I was told you'd be briefing me about the procedures?" O'Grady's steely eyes gazed around the second rate office.
Fredrickson stood hastily, his face blotted with spots of embarrassment.
"Yes. On our way down." He waved his hand in the direction of the door.
"Down?"
"Yes, they all requested the bottom three floors of the complex. The basement is their favourite." His pace was brisk. All of a sudden, the keen intentions of Fredrickson that had been invested in O'Grady were simply gone. He seemed impatiently disinterested.
Creep.
" Each patient has his or her own room. Some prefer sharing." A large cluster of keys swayed and clinked with the fast momentum of his hips. " Interviews will be held in one of the smaller common rooms. There are selected patients that are locked into their rooms. They can be a considerable nuisance when they try, so you can interview them in their individual rooms."
Fan-fucking-tastic!
" I understand that most of the subjects are self-admitted. Surely they wouldn't pose a great threat?"
"They're as dangerous as you allow them to be. One has bitten me once. They think I'm their nemesis." Fredrick continued as they walled down the ramp to the last floor. "Sign in and check your weapons in the foyer. Don't pass anything to them, or take anything from them. There are to be no sharp or potentially dangerous objects taken past the first gate. If at anytime you feel your own health is at risk, call for a nurse or orderly. These *things* are not criminals; they just adore a cannibalistic madman. You can decide for yourself how sane they are."
"Well. Yes. That's why I'm here" O'Grady noted Fredrickson's reference to patients as 'things'.
This guy really needs to shave!
"Yes" He paused to flag down the orderly. " Harry will look after you from this point on."
O'Grady barely mumbled his insincere thanks before Fredrickson turned his back in a swift exit. The steel door slammed shut. Before him, O'Grady met the eyes of the pale, ginger haired orderly, Harry. His clean white uniform crunched as he walked toward the front desk.
" A-Agent O'Grady, is it? Pleased to me-meet you. I'm Harry." He failed to extend his hand, probably from nervousness.
O'Grady nodded towards the frail boy. He was young. " Good morning."
Silence.
"Can I leave my things with you?" Someone had to be the first to speak.
"Yes. Certainly sir. Did Dr. Fredrickson go over the protocol?"
"Yes, he did."
"Excellent. With who-whom do you wish to speak to first?" His voice was picking up speed with confidence.
O'Grady paused a moment. Before him was a large iron gate, which blocked the foyer from what looked to be a large hallway of pale lilac doors, with tiny, circular windows.
" I have a few names here that I'd like to start with" He opened the file to show the exuberant orderly.
" Oh. Well he might be a little difficult to get to talk at this hour. Its best you leave him until you've got a better taste of the place.If you know what I mean"
O'Grady raised his eyebrow. Obviously he didn't know what he meant.
Think of the money O'Grady!
"Ahh. Alright. Well how about I start with a few of the ladies then hmm?"
Harry grinned and nodded. "Le-let me show you the way, Agent O'Gr-Grady"
They checked his weapon and continued through to the other side of the gate.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, before Harry shifted his weight and broke the silence.
"I'll leave you to it then. Ah, there's a chair in each of the rooms for you as well"
"Yes. That's very good. Thank you."
Harry smiled awkwardly and made his way back to the foyer. O'Grady stood standing alone in the middle of a long, intimidating hallway. There was no sound. After shuffling the papers, O'Grady finally found the profiles he was after. Rooms 21 and 22. He peered around for the rooms. At the end of the hallway, he saw a light shining out of one of the two rooms. He moved towards the left of the corridor as he approached, knowing that either the heavy thuds of his boots against the polished floor or the swoosh of his suit pants would announce him to whatever audience was waiting. For some odd reason, the situation seemed terrible rookie-like.
"Christ! I feel like Clarice Starling" Was O'Grady's last thought before gently wrapping on door number 22.
A/N:- More soonish. I'm currently on a role of avoiding all the work I *should* be doing, so hopefully the next instalment (featuring the goodies) will be up soon. Feedback is much appreciated, just don't forget this story has been created purely for the enjoyment of my fellow Lecterphiles. If humour isn't your flavor, leave the last laugh for someone else. Thanks for reading ;)
Now enough of the legal dribble, let's have some fun, shall we?
"Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane" -LadyOfTruths
"No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness." -Aristotle
Behavioural Science, the FBI section that deals with serial murders, or so it so avidly claims, is on the bottom floor of the Academy building at Quantico. Quin O'Grady, Special Agent, with a dual degree in psychology and refined neological science, approached one of the offices there, and confronted a large pale green door with a sturdy knock.
His age is unpredictable, but we can presume that he is past the healthiest prime of his life. Quin O'Grady is not a young man. Apart from the streaks of grey in his hair, age seemed to be an insignificant issue that his features never had to battle. His skin was tanned and healthy, his build was lean and modestly athletic, and his eyes shined like pure gems. None of that surface shine, this was the real deal. Some may argue his flawless perception and eyesight is product of prescription contacts, but you can make that judgement yourself.
No reply comes from within as his knock echoes through the hallway. O'Grady opens the door to find his boss, Section Chief Jacqueline Ford, ending her telephone conversation with a sharp 'Thank you'. He nodded at the younger, well-built woman, and took a seat in the chair opposing hers. The excitement in her eyes reflected through the cheap metal rims of her glasses, he briefly regretting being summoned at her request.
"O'Grady, Quinton T., good morning" she said.
" Mrs Ford" His smile was only polite.
She flipped through the stack of folders on her desk, taking a minute to process the printed text on each form. " Quite an impressive record you have with us here, O'Grady."
" I try." His response was brief, yet polite.
" I'll cut to the chase. The men above me have found, shall we say.an interesting discrepancy amongst the minds of society. Usually it's none of our business, but forensics believe that through further investigation, some fundamental psychological and neurological profiles can be recorded." Her longwinded introduction left a lot to be desired.
" You're familiar with Hannibal Lecter?" She asked again, slightly annoyed at his lack of response.
Was she joking? This whole set up was a copy of The Silence of the freakin' Lambs.
"I've read the books and seen the movie. Yes, I am familiar with his character" He was sure to emphasise the reality of his statement.
" I realise this may sound a little.ridiculous Agent O'Grady, but the benefits to come out of this investigation will far outweigh its comical nature. Do I have your full attention?" Her eyes held his. To Quin, she sounded a hell ova lot like that Crawford guy.
What the hell kind of joke is this?
"Of course" He's play along for now. At least until he had an educated excuse to decline whatever case she was creating here.
" You might be aware of the recently established Mental Clinic in Baltimore? The Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane?" She was serious. Her light hair stirred gracefully as she jarred her neck questioningly.
"I'm familiar. The Tattler has printed a few articles."
" Do you spook easily, O'Grady?" She peered over the top of her glasses.
Ha. Where do these people get off?
"No. Never"
" There are some thirteen residence at the hospital, all self-confessed Hannibal Lecter addicts. We'd like to produce a psychological and neurological profiling database on the thinking patterns of such subjects. As of yet, no agent or journalist has left there in the same state as they entered." She opened another thick folder and shifted it across the desk. If she hadn't of been so intently focused, O'Grady would have laughed along with what appeared to be a finely crafted joke. " I hope you don't consider this below you, O'Grady." Whoops, had she read his mind? "The patients here should be interviewed with the same amount of trepidation you'd feel when faced with dangerous felons."
Oh yeah, I've *really* pissed someone off!
" What's the purpose of this investigation? Forgive me for being so direct, but what's the urgency? These people aren't out to hurt anyone." O'Grady moved forward in his seat, opening the folder to expose a think pile of forms and photos. " This hasn't got anything to do with that guy who's stalking Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore? I heard its gone federal now."
Ford sharply interrupted him. " This investigation is for the sole purpose of establishing a new data base, Agent O'Grady. If you find yourself incapable of such a task, I'll call another office."
"That won't be necessary Ms Ford." He nodded towards the pile of clumped photos. "These are the subjects?"
"Yes, all thirteen of them. Now listen to me. I don't expect them to cooperate, they'll most likely find this amusing. Dr. Fredrickson, the head of the hospital, will go over the physical procedures you are to use with them. Don't deviate from them, this group is out to play with you. If they refuse to speak, just record normal behavioural patterns, how do they communicate, what are they doing, are the drawing, if so, what are they drawing. You know the run, O'Grady." She looked at him expectantly. " Your evaluation report is due on my desk by the end of the week."
"Right." After skimming through a few of the sketchy profiles, he closed the folders and stood to leave.
"Don't go in there with an apathetic attitude, O'Grady, this holds more value than you are aware" Jacqueline Ford rose out of her comfortable recliner to show him out of her modestly sized office. She pulled the length of her A-line skirt over her knees as if to attract necessary attention to her lower half. O'Grady's eyes never wandered. His lack of interest irked her.
Yeah, that's right lady. Some people joined the Bureau to *work*
" I'll have it on your desk at the end of the week. Good day, Ms Ford." She held the door for him as he made his way though the narrow, poster- cluttered hallway.
*~*~*~*~*~
Dr. Chilton Fredrickson, fifty-five, head administrator of the Baltimore State Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane, has a long narrow desk, piled with papers and cheap cards signed by acquaintances that he probably made up. He remained seated when Quin O'Grady came into his office.
The foundation of O'Grady's dislike began as soon as their eyes met. Dr. Chilton Fredrickson sat at his cheap desk with his brightly shined shoes resting on the buffed corners. He needed a good shave, his dark moustache was running way of course, and hairs were sprouting out in an asymmetrical pattern across his face.
" We've had a few detectives in here lately, but I can't remember one quite so attractive." He still sat casually behind his desk.
Oh. My. God.
"Dr. Fredrickson." O'Grady extended his hand unwillingly as he approached the desk. "Quinton O'Grady, F.B.I" He controlled the grimace which temped to splash over his features as his hand was gently, but wholly, grasped by that of the hairy Dr. Fredrickson.
"Will you be staying in Baltimore for a while?" There was an energised twinkle dancing in his eyes.
Let go of my hand asshole! O'Grady reefed his hand back to his side.
"I'll be reporting back to my field office this afternoon" He lifted his briefcase up on Fredrickson's desk to place a barrier between them. " I was told you'd be briefing me about the procedures?" O'Grady's steely eyes gazed around the second rate office.
Fredrickson stood hastily, his face blotted with spots of embarrassment.
"Yes. On our way down." He waved his hand in the direction of the door.
"Down?"
"Yes, they all requested the bottom three floors of the complex. The basement is their favourite." His pace was brisk. All of a sudden, the keen intentions of Fredrickson that had been invested in O'Grady were simply gone. He seemed impatiently disinterested.
Creep.
" Each patient has his or her own room. Some prefer sharing." A large cluster of keys swayed and clinked with the fast momentum of his hips. " Interviews will be held in one of the smaller common rooms. There are selected patients that are locked into their rooms. They can be a considerable nuisance when they try, so you can interview them in their individual rooms."
Fan-fucking-tastic!
" I understand that most of the subjects are self-admitted. Surely they wouldn't pose a great threat?"
"They're as dangerous as you allow them to be. One has bitten me once. They think I'm their nemesis." Fredrick continued as they walled down the ramp to the last floor. "Sign in and check your weapons in the foyer. Don't pass anything to them, or take anything from them. There are to be no sharp or potentially dangerous objects taken past the first gate. If at anytime you feel your own health is at risk, call for a nurse or orderly. These *things* are not criminals; they just adore a cannibalistic madman. You can decide for yourself how sane they are."
"Well. Yes. That's why I'm here" O'Grady noted Fredrickson's reference to patients as 'things'.
This guy really needs to shave!
"Yes" He paused to flag down the orderly. " Harry will look after you from this point on."
O'Grady barely mumbled his insincere thanks before Fredrickson turned his back in a swift exit. The steel door slammed shut. Before him, O'Grady met the eyes of the pale, ginger haired orderly, Harry. His clean white uniform crunched as he walked toward the front desk.
" A-Agent O'Grady, is it? Pleased to me-meet you. I'm Harry." He failed to extend his hand, probably from nervousness.
O'Grady nodded towards the frail boy. He was young. " Good morning."
Silence.
"Can I leave my things with you?" Someone had to be the first to speak.
"Yes. Certainly sir. Did Dr. Fredrickson go over the protocol?"
"Yes, he did."
"Excellent. With who-whom do you wish to speak to first?" His voice was picking up speed with confidence.
O'Grady paused a moment. Before him was a large iron gate, which blocked the foyer from what looked to be a large hallway of pale lilac doors, with tiny, circular windows.
" I have a few names here that I'd like to start with" He opened the file to show the exuberant orderly.
" Oh. Well he might be a little difficult to get to talk at this hour. Its best you leave him until you've got a better taste of the place.If you know what I mean"
O'Grady raised his eyebrow. Obviously he didn't know what he meant.
Think of the money O'Grady!
"Ahh. Alright. Well how about I start with a few of the ladies then hmm?"
Harry grinned and nodded. "Le-let me show you the way, Agent O'Gr-Grady"
They checked his weapon and continued through to the other side of the gate.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, before Harry shifted his weight and broke the silence.
"I'll leave you to it then. Ah, there's a chair in each of the rooms for you as well"
"Yes. That's very good. Thank you."
Harry smiled awkwardly and made his way back to the foyer. O'Grady stood standing alone in the middle of a long, intimidating hallway. There was no sound. After shuffling the papers, O'Grady finally found the profiles he was after. Rooms 21 and 22. He peered around for the rooms. At the end of the hallway, he saw a light shining out of one of the two rooms. He moved towards the left of the corridor as he approached, knowing that either the heavy thuds of his boots against the polished floor or the swoosh of his suit pants would announce him to whatever audience was waiting. For some odd reason, the situation seemed terrible rookie-like.
"Christ! I feel like Clarice Starling" Was O'Grady's last thought before gently wrapping on door number 22.
A/N:- More soonish. I'm currently on a role of avoiding all the work I *should* be doing, so hopefully the next instalment (featuring the goodies) will be up soon. Feedback is much appreciated, just don't forget this story has been created purely for the enjoyment of my fellow Lecterphiles. If humour isn't your flavor, leave the last laugh for someone else. Thanks for reading ;)