Rebuilding Base is Under Construction

Anderson's sloppy expression made Strinch impatient.

"Excuse me, can you open the door first," Dr. Stranger asked coldly.

Anderson looked back, stepped forward to find the key, and inserted it into the keyhole in the iron door. He glanced carefully at the doctor, who happened to look over.

"You should make an appointment before you come here." Dr. Strance glanced at his watch. "The last patient was late and his consultation time was changed to dinner. The next patient was the one who wanted to kill the cannibal. Guardian of the Devil Admirer Joyce-oh, he is also your colleague, have you communicated with him before? "

Anderson seemed to feel that it was inappropriate to continue the conversation like this, and quickly waved and denied: "No, doctor, I ... I don't want to eat people."

Dr. Stranger raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to eat people, why does Mr. Warden let you come here?"

Anderson was a little confused: "Doctor, I don't know. I just came here as ordered by the warden."

Strange looked at him from head to toe, and Anderson couldn't help but stand upright, a habit he had developed in the army.

"Okay, then you are fine." Strange patted his shoulder suddenly, with no expression on his face. "The treatment is over."

Anderson looked puzzled.

Strange rolled his eyes: "Don't substitute yourself into the warden's mindset, can you?"

Anderson took a deep breath, widened his eyes, and his voice trembled: "Doctor, doctor, have you found it?"

Now Strangy is confused.

"What did you find?"

Guard Anderson swallowed. "About the warden ... hobby."

Strinch was silent for a moment.

These days of investigations have convinced him that the warden does have a lot of mystery, but he has not yet learned about the warden's habit.

But he glanced at the trembling guard again.

If he reveals at this point that he doesn't know what the other person is saying, the guard will probably not continue to disclose what he knows.

Then Strinch frowned slightly and glanced at the guard: "Oh, you say that."

Anderson was startled, "Doctor ?!"

He didn't understand why the doctor was so calm about it. Even if the governor of the canon only deals with people who have special emotions—or those who have died—this is not ethical.

Could it be that the warden was to desecrate the body of Secostone?

Anderson stirred his hands in embarrassment. As a guard in the prison, he is responsible for all issues of the prisoners-including their needs, the punishment they deserve, and the rights they deserve in the transformation.

Sycostone is dead, and his body should be picked up by a hearse and properly placed.

Anderson gritted his teeth and whispered, "Doctor, Mr. Warden moved the corpse of Sikestone to his room ... it was this task I performed, and I'm sure it's true."

Strinch was silent: "Who is Sycostone?"

Anderson remembered that the doctor had not been employed long before, and maybe he did not know the story of the warden and his secret lover. But the point is not this, so he explained as succinctly as possible: "It is a dead prisoner. His body was originally in the morgue, but Mr. Warden inspected it specifically and then ordered me to transport it to his room. "

Strange's eyebrows slowly frowned. "I see."

Anderson felt unable to understand what the doctor said.

At first, the doctor advised him not to get caught in the warden's thinking mode, making him think that the doctor realized that Mr. warden was wrong-but the doctor didn't pick things out and made him feel a little helpless.

Strange saw the good-hearted guard scratching his head and letting his breath out for a while, and he calmed down his tone: "You have no problem, even though I as a psychiatrist is far below the standard I set myself-but I I can tell you that there is nothing wrong with your spirit and your treatment is over. "

Anderson nodded silently.

Strange suddenly patted him on the shoulder: "You can come to me again if there is something. What's your name?"

Anderson looked up stupidly: "Frank Anderson."

"Okay, Frank." Strinch raised his hand and glanced at his watch. "It's time for me to find my patient. You can go back to your post-if necessary, I will look for you."

This sentence gave Anderson some comfort, and he was easily relieved to the naked eye, and nodded to Strance.

After Anderson said that, Strange soon realized what Mr. Warden was about to do-presumably some sort of evil ritual that required the body as a medium.

But he obviously couldn't tell Anderson.

But after Anderson left, Strangge regretted it again. The guard looked good, and he should leave him with him to heal Joyce. After all, the unreliable blue dress care, now I do not know where to go, he can only stand with a cold face in the door of the psychiatrist's office, waiting for him to come back according to the agreed treatment time.

After all, Joyce was in the padded confinement room at this time, and he had to wait for the nurse to help open the door and put on the other side to prevent him from hurting suddenly during the treatment.

Joyce was, after all, a severely psychiatric patient—and that was evident from his daring to attack the ogres.

It didn't take long before the nurse ran over pantingly: "Long wait, doctor."

Strinch replied, "Indeed."

Nursing staff: "..."

The psychiatrist didn't seem to be able to fight, but his words were always self-confident-although he was only two minutes late.

"Doctor, there are more and more psychiatric criminals these days." Nursing complained. "Originally, the staffing is not enough. Do you know what other people have done recently-open the door to the employees!"

As Strange, who needed to help open the door, he looked at each other indifferently.

The nurse realized her wordlessness and closed her mouth immediately.

The new doctor didn't come in long, everyone couldn't figure out his way, and tried to avoid him when talking about the warden.

Although Joyce was really crazy, his treatment was better than that of Hannibal Lecter-after all, he still had food.

Although this mental illness sometimes breaks the plate, it is better than eating people.

Strange also had a headache.

If anyone in this prison really treats the mentally ill, it is certainly not the frightened little doctor in the library who is at ease at this time-it is being locked in the cell by the warden and the clown. Separated by a wall, but serially killed by the serial killer Hannibal Lecter.

From an academic point of view, Strinch understands why someone keeps writing letters to Lake, telling him about worship, or asking him about psychological problems.

Only by becoming a psychiatrist can you understand how difficult this profession is.

Especially the psychiatrist in the prison-see how many attending doctors the clown killed.

Strange's silent footsteps echoed in the dimly lit corridor, and the nursing staff sighed.

"Doctor, this Joyce-I know I'm just a rough thug. The doctors look at us like that, but seriously, I think he can't be cured."

Strinch feels the same way.

And although the warden gave him to Joyce, it seemed that he no longer cared about the truth of Joyce's attack on the ogre.

All Strange can do is treat him. He went smoothly in neurosurgery, but was somewhat frustrated psychologically.

For ordinary people, it's normal to feel tricky for just a few days-but Stranger doesn't think so.

Whenever and wherever he encounters problems that he cannot solve, it makes him intolerable.

This time Joyce's treatment obviously failed again.

The other party was originally a rigorous lunatic, planning a series of events, intending to transport Lekte out of prison and then kill him.

But I don't know why, he was stimulated by some kind of mystery and started to let himself go completely.

The treatment was basically under the compulsory control of nursing, and Joyce wanted to violently hurt anyone at any time. And half an hour later, when the mentally ill outside ran and screamed in tandem, the nurse finally couldn't help it: "Doctor-just go here today, the guys outside are going crazy again, I don't know if tomorrow A few prisoners to wear. "

Strinch: "..."

The status quo in mental wards is indeed a bit pitiful.

After Joyce's closed door was heavily locked to isolate him from the outside world, the nurses rushed out to stop the mentally ill.

Strinch frowned, glancing at his uncontrollable hands.

He couldn't help in the past.

Strange can only return to his psychiatrist's office-still waiting for the psychiatric patients outside to be treated, handcuffed them one by one, injected with sedatives, and returned to his cell, exhausted and rough Qi came after opening the door for him.

"Thank you," Strange said.

The nursing seemed a bit shocked, and became dull for a while, and even blushed after dozens of seconds.

Strinch: "..."

"You can go," he said coldly.

The nursing left quickly.

The next appointment was the prisoner Felix Oliver.

Because Joyce's treatment ended early, it was still a while before Oliver arrived here. Strinch read the book for a while, sorted out the patient's medical record by the way, and accidentally saw the prisoner investigation report given to him by the warden.

Strinch: "..."

I don't know why, just like this survey, he seems to have a feeling-the warden seems to think he is quite calm.

Ten minutes later, Felix Oliver knocked on his door on time.

Strange raised his head and looked across the railing.

"..." he said impatiently. "Go call the nurse and let him open the door."

Oliver nodded well.

The nurse gasped and opened the door panting, this time looking quite polite, even nodding at Strangy.

Strinch feels that the atmosphere of the psychiatric ward is really getting more and more weird-obviously the clown has been transferred to the confinement room, or the one without meals. Why does it still seem that there is an invisible pollution spreading?

Perhaps the warden's questionnaire wasn't unreasonable—Strinch also noticed that there were no windows here.

But the behavior of the warden was puzzling.

If the warden realizes that this will affect the mental state of the prisoner, then why not install windows directly? If not, why should he investigate the matter?

Strinch sighed.

The opposite Oliver seemed a little nervous: "Doctor ... do you think I have anything wrong?"

Strinch: "..."

If he can see at a glance if there is any problem with the mental state of the other party, he may not be a psychologist, but a trick.

-But he is indeed a magician.

"Are you feeling depressed lately?" Strange turned over Oliver's file, took a few notes on it, and looked up at the prisoner on the sofa.

"No, doctor ..." Oliver seemed a bit difficult, but finally decided to continue, "Yes, there is a rumor that always lingers in my mind, but if I say it, it may die. Drop. "

Strinch thought about it: "Sure there is such a spirit ..."

Oliver looked shocked.

"Just a joke," Strange said. "It's a lot easier now."

He is certainly not a joke, but he is a doctor and not a magician, facing prisoners and not other super heroes.

"I mean ..." Oliver looked tangled and suddenly stood up. "I'm sorry, doctor, I don't think I need treatment."

Strinch: "?"

But Oliver jumped from the wide sofa and rushed to the door and was able to run out-because the door of the office was a cell door, the care was obviously too busy in the depths of the ward, and there was no way to take the time to open it for him.

Strange noticed Oliver's legs shaking.

"Are you afraid of anything, Oliver?" He asked suddenly.

Oliver grabbed the railing on the cell door, and showed despair: "I will die, I will die."

"No ... Listen to me, you don't." Strange said softly. "Relax, take a deep breath, and slowly lie on the sofa. I won't ask you what you want to cover in your heart ... believe I……"

Ten minutes later, the nurse finally hurried over, and Oliver stood at the door of the psychiatrist's office in confusion.

He seemed to have slept on the sofa.

"You're under too much stress," Dr. Strange said behind him, "don't think about it, nothing has happened."

Oliver nodded obediently and walked out of the psychiatrist's office somewhat sloppily.

Strangy put his pen down after he left, then frowned slightly, and slowly put down the medical record without writing.

He used a little psychological method combined with magic theory, gave a little hypnosis and hint to Oliver, whose psychological defense line was already vulnerable, and got some information.

Although magic can't be used in this prison, he is still a half-psychologist.

The thing that troubled Oliver surprised him a little.

Oliver often heard in the mouth of the prisoner in Area A that the warden would privately kill the prisoner's thorns. This incident took root in his heart and gradually became more and more semblance.

He had doubts about the authenticity of the incident, but most of the original prisoners were no longer in prison-very few were released on parole, but most, obviously, were sent out by hearse.

Nevertheless, they violated the rules in the prison before being killed by guards or dying in a fight between prisoners.

The rumors that the warden privately executed the prisoner in the transformer room circulated in their mouths could not be confirmed.

However, there is a place in Oliver's memory, which is exactly what makes him doubt-he thinks that he has seen there and there have been traces of the building being leveled, so this proves that the warden did execute here Passed prisoner.

But why is that building no longer there?

And why everything that was known to the first prisoners never happened.

After all, according to them, when the prison warrior executed the prisoner, he never avoided the eyes and ears of the prisoner—he concentrated the spurs in the cell like a farm animal, and then sprayed water on the transformer. All prisoners were executed together.

In the legends they left, there were even the screams of the prisoners, as if they could not be more true.

But these things haven't happened for a long time.

Oliver was convinced of his memory, but was too distressed to find evidence to prove it. Over time, he began to doubt his mental state, so that he ordered psychological counseling and wanted to tell the doctor about his depression.

However, just as he was about to receive treatment at the psychiatrist's office today, he was called to the office by the warden and asked some insignificant questions such as gangsters in the prison. The warden even showed that he didn't know that the famous penguins were serving their sentences in prison, and it was obvious that he didn't want to.

Oliver was scared.

The treatment has been rescheduled, but he still comes as promised, but dare not tell the truth.

Strange thought slowly.

Oliver has been to the "disposal of prisoners" site, where it is said that there are still many traces of those incidents.