Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Read part six after the jump!

As Bartleby and Thomas Blackthorn approached the cell in question, Bartleby tilted his head.  The nameplate was blurred, entirely illegible, almost as if someone had taken a sander to it.

“Whose cell is this, again?” Bartleby asked, knowing how the response would come out.

——— ———-.”  Yup.  Pretty much what he expected.  Obviously, some strong magic was at play here, but he didn’t know the asylum well enough, or its inhabitants well enough, to even begin to guess at who’s cell this could have been.

Blackthorn motioned at a nearby orderly, a giant hulk of a creature with long tentacles for arms and a tight white orderly outfit on.  If the thing didn’t look so damn creepy, Bartleby might actually have found it amusing.  Still, somehow with tentacles for hands, it managed to pry a set of keys from its pocket and unlock the large rusted metal door in front of them.

It swung open with a large creek and Blackthorn motioned Bartleby to enter first.  The smell struck him instantly – it smelled like gasoline.  He knew whose cell this was, but the name was just past the edge of his mind.  It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten it – it was almost as if he, quite literally, couldn’t think of it.

Weird etchings were carved into the walls of the room – odd designs and symbols that he couldn’t be sure the origin of.  There was no real design to it, and really, he didn’t expect there to be in an asylum.  Still, one thing struck his eye – one of the walls didn’t have any etchings or carvings in it at all.

He walked towards it and, so briefly he wasn’t even sure that it had even happened, the wall…shifted.  Almost like the flickering of a television set, really.  He lifted his hand to touch it, and it went right through the wall.  “Hmmm….” he muttered aloud.  A fake wall – easy in the grand scheme of things as far as supernaturabilities were concerned, but tricky in an asylum meant to prohibit the use of any magic whatsoever.

The door to the cell slammed shut.  Startled, Bartleby looked towards it to see where Blackthorne had gone but, before he could even turn his head fully, something grabbed his hand from the other side of the wall and pulled him through.