1 March 2006
They were conducting human experiments.
Matteson explained the local lore, that the place had been owned by the military and seen some form of experimentation, presumably to make more perfect soldiers, until it was handed off as an insane asylum and later a nursing home before finally closing some decades ago. The skeleton we found, and the ghost associated with it, showed that there was probably at least some truth to the legend; part of the jaw was fused shut, there were five holes that looked to be for eyes in the skull, the legs were shrunken to near uselessness but four of the extra arms were certainly long enough to make up the difference in mobility. Assuming they worked, of course; it was impossible to tell from what remained, or at least impossible for all of us. The hands looked like they'd been broken and healed over a few times, likely injuries related to the damage we found to one of the walls. Poor soul didn't even know where it was going--even if it had succeeded in punching through that wall, another cell waited on the other side.
Matteson took notes on the scene as I examined the corpse and Akshainie compared the mad scribblings on the walls against my notes. She didn't see any connections, but it was always unlikely she was going to, anyway. Even if the Brood was behind this, somehow, the deceased probably wouldn't know how to say that unless they had been members themselves. We knew from the Book that an entity somehow connected to the Brood was here; that said nothing about whether it had been here when the place was still in mortal use. Or, for that matter, whether or not the ghost we'd already encountered was all there was.
"Well," Matteson said, closing his notebook, "I could go for some answers. Anyone else?" I turned to him and furrowed my brow.
"And where, exactly, do you expect to get those?" He shrugged.
"Won't know until we look. But I saw an office upstairs, if there's anything left there it may be useful." Akshainie and I looked to each other, and she hesitantly nodded.
"I have no better ideas," she said. I sighed, stood, dusted myself off, and held out my hand toward the door.
"Lead the way, young man." He did exactly that, wandering back to where we had met him before continuing just a little further down the hall to a corner that hid a stairway up. He showed us around, indicating a room with long tables, all but one of which was broken, that he described as a break room before showing us the office.
The office was in complete disarray. If there was anything of value still in it, it would be the work of the night digging it out from the scattered shreds of paper, broken bits of plaster, and assorted junk left lying around by, it seemed, the same people who had spray painted on the walls. I groaned as Matteson held his arms out as if presenting us with some fantastic gift, and he laughed and started walking toward the only desk that hadn't been destroyed or knocked over. Akshainie and I began sifting through the piles of stuff nearish the door, looking for anything that might have been original and still in a legible condition.
"What are you doing over there?" I asked Matteson, who seemed to be checking the drawers on the desk.
"Well, this thing doesn't move, I tried. And it's still locked up. So maybe there's something in it."
"And how are you intending to find out?"
"You know," he said, kneeling down, "desk locks are a lot easier to work with than the door ones downstairs."
"Are you telling me you know how to pick locks?"
"Yeah, dad taught me."
"...I didn't know Henry knew how to pick locks, either."
"Has he not been your friend for decades?" Akshainie asked.
"There's a lot he doesn't tell anyone, it seems," he muttered, before I heard a faint sound and he stood up with a smile. Akshainie and I went over to the desk, and Matteson opened the center drawer to reveal a collection of old pens and pencils. "Oh! Score," he announced, grabbing a couple and shoving them into his bag. I shook my head and opened one of the side drawers, which appeared to be empty. Just as I was about to close it, Akshainie stopped me.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing to a small bump I'd failed to notice inside the drawer. I reached into the drawer to feel it, and when I pushed against it we learned it was a button. There was a low whine from one of the wall to our right for a few seconds, and then part of the wall began to move. Akshainie had her swords out the moment it clunked into action, and I braced myself for whatever was waiting behind. Matteson, for his part, just seemed to be watching with general disinterest. As the portion of wall moved out of the way, we all stopped and tensed at the sight of a painted red spiral on a set of steel doors.
"Aw, shit, not these assholes again," Matteson grumbled as he pulled his cigarettes from his bag.
Evidence compiled for use during the trial of Father Benedict de Monte.