Anderson's blank expression made Strange feel a little impatient.
"Excuse me, could you open the door first?" Doctor Strange asked coldly.
Anderson came back to his senses, stepped forward to find the key, and inserted it into the lock in the iron door. He glanced warily at the doctor, who happened to be looking over.
"You should make an appointment before you come here." Doctor Strange glanced at his watch, "The last patient was late, and his consultation time was changed to before dinner. And the next patient is the one who wants to kill the cannibal Demon worshiper, Guard Joyce—oh, he’s also your colleague, have you communicated with him before?”
Anderson seemed to feel that it was inappropriate to continue the conversation, so he quickly waved his hands in denial: "No, doctor, I... I don't want to eat people."
Doctor Strange raised an eyebrow.
"I don't want to eat people, why did Mr. Warden let you come here?"
Anderson was a little confused: "Doctor, I don't know either, I just came here according to the warden's order."
Strange looked him over from head to toe, and Anderson couldn't help standing up straight, which was a habit he had developed in the army.
"Okay, then you're fine." Strange suddenly patted him on the shoulder with no expression on his face, "The treatment is over."
Anderson looked puzzled.
Strange rolled his eyes: "Don't put yourself into the thinking mode of the warden, can you?"
Anderson took a deep breath, his eyes widened, his voice trembling: "Doctor, doctor, have you found out?"
Now Strange is confused.
"Find what?"
Guard Anderson swallowed: "About the warden's... hobbies."
Strange was silent for a moment.
The investigation of the past few days convinced him that the warden did have many mysteries, but he hadn't understood the warden's hobbies.
But he took another look at the trembling guard.
If he reveals that he doesn't know what the other person is talking about at this time, then the guard may not continue to reveal the information he does know.
So Strange frowned slightly, and glanced at the guard: "Oh, you said that."
Anderson was confused: "Doctor?!"
He didn't understand why the doctor was so calm about the matter. Even if Mr. Warden would only attack people with special feelings for him—or dead people, this is not ethical.
Should the warden be allowed to desecrate Sikestone's body like this
Anderson moved his hands awkwardly. As a guard in the prison, his job is to take care of everything about the prisoners—including their needs, their punishment, and their rights in reformation.
Seike Stone is dead, and his body should be picked up by a hearse and placed properly.
Anderson gritted his teeth and said in a low voice: "Doctor, Mr. Warden moved Sikestone's body to his room... I performed this task, and I'm sure it's real."
Strange was silent for a while: "Who is Sekestone?"
Then Anderson remembered that the doctor had only joined the job not long ago, and he might not know the story of the warden and his secret lover. But the point is not this, so he tried to explain concisely: "It's a dead prisoner. His body was originally in the morgue, but Mr. Warden went to check it out, and then ordered me to transport the body to his room. "
Strange's brows slowly frowned: "I see."
Anderson couldn't understand what the doctor was saying.
At the beginning, the doctor reminded him not to fall into the warden's thinking mode, making him think that the doctor realized that something was wrong with the warden—but the doctor didn't clarify the matter, which made him feel a little at a loss.
Strange saw this stupid and kind-hearted guard, exhaled through his nostrils for a while, and barely softened his tone: "You have no problem, although I am far from meeting the standards set by myself as a psychiatrist—but I can Let me tell you that there is nothing wrong with your mind, and your treatment is over."
Anderson nodded silently.
Strange patted him on the shoulder suddenly: "Come to me again if you have anything to do, what's your name?"
Anderson raised his head blankly: "Frank Anderson."
"Okay, Frank." Strange raised his hand and glanced at his watch. "It's time for me to go to my patient. You can go back to work—if necessary, I will call you."
These words gave Anderson some comfort, he relaxed visibly, and nodded to Strange.
Strange quickly realized what Mr. Warden was planning to do after Anderson said that—probably some kind of sinister ritual that required a dead body as a medium.
But he obviously couldn't tell Anderson.
But after Anderson left, Strange regretted it again. The guard looked fine, and he should have stayed with him to treat Joyce. After all, that unreliable blue-clothed nurse went to nowhere now, so he could only stand at the door of the psychiatrist's office with a cold face, waiting for him to come back here 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 a restraint suit to prevent him from suddenly violently hurting others during the treatment.
After all, Joyce is a serious mental patient-this can be seen from the fact that he dared to attack the ogre.
Not long after, the nurse ran over panting: "I've been waiting, doctor."
Strange replied, "Indeed."
Nursing staff: "…"
The psychiatrist didn't look like he could type, but he was always embarrassing when he talked—even though he was only two minutes late.
"Doctor, there are more and more mentally ill criminals recently." The nurse complained, "There is not enough manpower, do you know what other people are doing recently-open the door for the employees who come and go!"
As Strange who needed help to open the door, he gave him a cold look.
The nurse realized the slip of the tongue and immediately shut up.
The new doctor had only come in not long ago, and everyone still couldn't figure out his origin, and they tried to avoid him when talking about the warden.
Although Joyce was truly crazy, his treatment was much better than that of Hannibal Lecter—after all, he still had food to eat.
Although this psychopath sometimes gnaws on plates, it's much better than cannibalism.
Strange also had a headache about this.
If anyone in this prison actually treats the mentally ill, it's certainly not the resigned and frightened little doctor in the library - who is being locked up in a solitary cell by the warden at this time, separated from the clown , but shared the cruel treatment of serial killer Hannibal Lecter.
Academically, Strange understood why people kept writing to Lecter, telling him admiration, or asking him psychological questions.
Only by becoming a psychiatrist can one understand how difficult this profession is.
Especially the prison psychiatrists - just look at how many attending doctors the Joker has killed.
Strange's silent footsteps echoed in the dimly lit corridor, and the nurse next to him sighed.
"Doctor, this Joyce—I know I'm just a rough thug, that's what the doctors think of us, but honestly, I don't think he'll be cured."
Strange thought so too.
Moreover, although the warden handed Joyce over to him, he seemed to no longer care about the truth about Joyce's attack on the ogre.
All Strange can do is heal him. However, he was smooth sailing in neurosurgery, but he was somewhat frustrated in psychology.
For ordinary people, it's normal to feel troubled after only a few days - but Strange doesn't think so.
No matter when and where, encountering a problem that he can't solve makes him intolerable.
This time Joyce's treatment apparently failed again.
The other party was originally a rigorous lunatic who planned a series of events, intending to transport Lecter out of prison and then kill him.
But for some unknown reason, he was stimulated by some kind of mystery and began to let himself go completely.
The treatment was basically carried out under the compulsory control of nursing, and Joyce wanted to violently hurt others at any time. And half an hour later, when the mental patients outside were running around and screaming, the nurse finally couldn't help it: "Doctor—let's stop here today, those guys outside are going crazy again, I don't know how many more days there will be tomorrow." A prison uniform you can wear."
Strange: "…"
The state of the psychiatric ward is indeed a bit pathetic.
After Joyce's confinement door was locked heavily to isolate him from the outside world, the nurse rushed out to stop the mentally ill people.
Strange frowned and looked at his uncontrollable hands.
He couldn't go over to help.
Strange could only go back to his psychiatrist's office—he was panting exhaustedly after waiting for the nurses to deal with the mental patients outside, handcuffing them one by one, injecting them with sedatives, and sending them back to his cell After coming over to open the door for him.
"Thank you," Strange said.
Nursing seemed a little shocked, tongue-tied for a while, and even blushed gradually after dozens of seconds.
Strange: "…"
"You can go." He said coldly.
Nursing left quickly.
The next appointment was made for the prisoner, Felix Oliver.
Since the treatment of Joyce ended early, there is still some time before Oliver arrives here. Strange read the book for a while, while sorting out the medical records of today's patients, he accidentally saw the prisoner investigation report given to him by the warden.
Strange: "…"
I don't know why, just like this investigation, he seems to have a feeling-the warden seems to think that he is quite calm.
Ten minutes later, Felix Oliver knocked on his door on time.
Strange raised his head and looked at the other party across the railing.
"..." he said impatiently, "go and call the nurse and let him open the door."
Oliver nodded obediently.
Panting, the nurse rushed over and opened the door, this time looking quite polite, even nodding to Strange.
Strange felt that the atmosphere in the psychiatric ward was getting weirder and weirder—clearly the clown had been transferred to a confinement room, and there was still no food provided, why did there still seem to be an invisible pollution spreading
Maybe the Warden's questionnaire wasn't unreasonable - Strange had also noticed that there were no windows here.
But the behavior of the warden is very puzzling.
If the warden realized that this would affect the psychological state of the prisoners, why didn't he just install windows? If not, why is he looking into it
Strange sighed.
Oliver on the opposite side seemed a little nervous: "Doctor...do you think there is something wrong with me?"
Strange: "…"
If he can tell at a glance whether there is a problem with the other person's mental state, he probably shouldn't be a psychiatrist, but a juggler.
—but he was indeed a magician.
"Have you felt depressed recently?" Strange opened Oliver's file, recorded a few things on it, and then looked up at the prisoner on the sofa.
"No, doctor..." Oliver seemed to be having a hard time, but finally decided to continue, "It's like this, there is a rumor that is always lingering in my mind, but if I say it, I may die .”
Strange thought for a while: "There is indeed such a skill of speaking..."
Oliver looked shocked.
"Just kidding," said Strange, "it's a lot more relaxed now."
He's not joking, of course, but he's a doctor rather than a magician, and he's facing a prisoner rather than any other superhero.
"I mean..." Oliver looked tangled, and suddenly stood up, "I'm sorry, doctor, I don't think I need any treatment."
Strange: "?"
But Oliver, who jumped up from the wide sofa and rushed to the door, couldn't run out—because the door of the office was a cell door, and the nurse was obviously very busy in the depths of the psychiatric ward, and there was no way to find time to open the door for him.
Strange noticed that Oliver's legs were shaking. "Are you afraid of something, Oliver?" he asked suddenly.
Oliver grabbed the railing on the cell door, looking desperate: "I'm going to die, I'm going to die."
"No... Listen to me, you won't." Strange said softly, "Relax, take a deep breath, and lie slowly on the sofa, I won't ask you what you want to hide in your heart... Believe me... "
Ten minutes later, the nurse finally rushed over, and Oliver stood at the door of the psychiatrist's office in a daze.
He appears to have fallen asleep on the couch.
"You're under too much stress," Dr. Strange said behind him. "Don't think about it. Nothing happened."
Oliver nodded obediently, and walked out of the psychiatrist's office with a somewhat vain footstep.
After he left, Strange put down the pen in his hand, then frowned slightly, and slowly put down the unwritten medical records.
He used a little psychological method combined with magic theory to hypnotize and hint Oliver, whose psychological defense was already vulnerable, and obtained some information.
Although magic is not allowed in this prison, he is now a half-hearted psychiatrist.
What troubled that Oliver surprised him a little.
Oliver often heard rumors from the prisoners in Area A that the warden would privately execute prisoners to stab their heads.
He had doubts about the veracity of the incident, but most of the original inmates were no longer in prison—a handful had been released on parole, but most, apparently, had been sent out by hearse.
Even so, they were killed by guards for violating prison rules, or died in brawls among prisoners.
And the rumors that the warden executed the prisoners in the transformer room privately, but there is no way to prove it.
But there was a place in Oliver's memory, and this was what made him puzzled—he thought he had gone there, and there were indeed traces of buildings being bulldozed, so this proved that the warden had indeed executed here prisoner.
But why is that building not there now
And why the well-known things of the first batch of prisoners have never happened now.
After all, according to what they said, when the prisoner was executed, the warden never avoided the eyes and ears of others—he gathered the thorns in the cell like driving cattle, and then sprayed water on the transformer, which caused a fire that could destroy the prison. All prisoners were executed together.
In the legends they left behind, there are even the screams of those prisoners, as if they couldn't be more real.
But these things haven't happened in a long time.
Oliver was convinced of his own memory, but he couldn't find any evidence to prove it. Over time, he began to doubt his mental state, so that he made an appointment for psychological guidance and wanted to tell the doctor about his distress.
But today, when he was about to come to the psychiatrist's office for treatment, he was called into the office by the warden and asked some irrelevant questions - like gangs in prison. The warden even acted like he didn't know that the famous Penguin was serving his sentence in prison, which was obviously not his intention.
Oliver was terrified.
The treatment had been rescheduled, but he still came as scheduled, but he dared not tell the truth.
Strange pondered slowly.
Oliver had been to the place where the "prisoners were disposed of", and it was said that there were still many traces of those incidents.