Miles Upsher figured he would see the light when he would re-open his eyes. Or, perhaps, God had completely abandoned him and this asylum to no longer care. To no longer care for his well being and wishes.

The reporter squeezed his eyes shut a bit tighter and, indeed, felt his own lashes grace his cheekbones. Yet, he feared to open his eyes, to exam the coarse, dull light above him and see if he would be accepting God's hand. He let out a sigh but regretted it, feeling pain just slam into his broken body. Gasping, his eyes flew open, revealing a broken light above him.

He knew darkness was surrounding. And Miles knew exactly where he was still. In that damned and unforgivable asylum that was sure to swarm him with nightmares of Hell itself. Without warning, the light turned away from his face and he flinched lightly, feeling pinpricks of pain grind into his muscles. Another flinch.

"Well~, look who's back from the dead! I was wondering about you, buddy." If Miles could've shrieked, he probably would've but he found he had no voice, nor did his lips move. He attempted to shoot upright but he found he could not, the leather straps tight around his arms and ankles as they held him against the table. Only God knew what was on it...

"Hey, hey, hey~, calm down." The Doctor chuckled and leaned over him. "You look like you've seen a ghost. No, I'm alive." The male patted around his stomach and chest area before both hands settled on where the elevator had cut into him. Miles was confused but soon narrowed his eyes. Trager took a step back away from the other, chuckling to himself. "Don't give me that look, now. I saved your life and you should be greatful!"

Miles blinked then decided to go ahead and look down towards his chest, pulling his chin in. Why was he not surprised that he was completely stark-naked? And yet, he was bandaged. Those bandages were fresh, unused...clean.

"Now you see it," the male murmured, standing over him one more and setting both of his hands just on either side of the reporter's head. "The good deed I've done. And considering I know you have questions~, I'll remove this." The male flinched away from the other's hands as best as he could but the male soon had his jaw. Slowly, the gag was removed from Miles' lips and the reporter took the time to let his tongue run right over his dry lips. Cracked and bloody they were, in need of much repair as the rest of his bullet-holed body. But then he wondered...as to how no bullets had entered his heart?

Trager was already moving off somewhere before he could say a single word. Now that the light was off of him and he was no longer staring at the insane figure, he took the time to look around the room. It was as filthy as ever, blood caking the mirrors nearby and those damned shears still in the urinals just nearby. And right in the center of the room was the wheelchair. The vomit had been cleaned but it was all...just the same room of god damned horrors.

"Boy, you should see the look on your face~." Trager snickered loudly into his hand before he was making his way back over. The male felt the doctor's fingers run through his hair, mainly to torment him. With a hiss, he attempted to snap his teeth around his hand. Fingers were immediately wrapping around his mouth, keeping him still. "You really are a persistent bastard. Maybe this will wake you up."

The reporters eyes widened before he shut his eyes tightly, the shears coming dangerously close to his face and eyes. "See~? I haven't cut you yet. You're just the one assuming I'm going to kill you later. Maybe I should've left you to the Walrider."

Ah! That was right! He had been taken over, hadn't he? Those damned fingers enclosing around his throat and throwing him around like a rag doll. The black tendrils of smoke rising up and enslaving him to whatever god damned deed was in store.

The shears edged closer as he opened his eyes and Miles couldn't help but stare at the blood-dyed edges. His heartrate picked up and he gritted his teeth. Those shears snipped together and a lock of the male's hair fell onto his face, then drifted over his cheek. "Release me...Trager..." His voice, as dry as bone, faintly filtered out from his throat. The Doctor suddenly tipped his head back and laughed, carelessly letting the shears drop close to the male's neck. Miles flinched.

"Ahaha~! Finally! You're no longer mute, buddy! But boy do you sound like shit. Here, let me help with that." Dear God the reporter did not want to know and simply shook his head wildly. However, Trager was no longer paying attention to him and was waltzing over to the nearby sink. Hearing water run made him immediately think of the sewers. He felt like he would vomit.

All blood drained from his face as he thought about those damned tunnels of blood, all of it pooling from the dead that stank up the asylum. Trager came back only to pour quite a bit of water into the male's mouth. Miles almost choked and swallowed, only to have a series of coughing fits. Turning his head to the side, blood and water sprayed over the edge of the table. Trager hummed.

"Maybe I should've given that to you slower. Oh well." He turned away once again to set it on a nearby table, momentarily leaving the reporter to try and regain his breath. Despite the sudden drop of the liquid in his mouth, already, he felt a bit better than before. "At least now you can answer some of my questions and I can answer yours."

Miles watched him now, raising an eyebrow slowly. Trager sat on the edge of the cold table and seemed to shrugged lightly. "Well~, first of all, what's your name?" The male couldn't believe it. Why was the doctor, who had cut off his fingers with the shears over nearby, suddenly asking him these friendly questions. His lips parted once more.

"Miles. ...Miles Upsher." Trager nodded lightly then put a hand on his own chest, right above the sternum. "Richard Trager~ at your service for all of your special needs in the ER. And I need your help, honestly." He tapped Miles' nose, who blinked furiously.

"...W-With what?" Richard shrugged lightly before he answer, getting way too close for Miles' sake.

"Simple. I want to see if you can restore the asylum~! I mean, you've gotten this far, let's see if you can try again and escape with a limb or two still." Miles swallowed slowly, feeling fear settle right back into his gut and coil like a snake. The man was truly nuts if he thought Miles could restore this damned place.

"What do you say? Is it a deal~?"

Miles stared for quite some time at the doctor in silent before he opened his mouth...