Post by Dorothy Stewart on Aug 26, 2012 20:57:39 GMT -5
Dorothy Gale Stewart
The proceedings for this session with one Dorothy Gale Stewart can now commence
after being prolonged since October 28th, 1990. Subject is Female and to refer
back to their date of birth we are able to assume they are 21 without
suspicions of falsehood—as of yet. Suspicions are being made based on however
the following question: if they were to describe themselves in one word, which
they stated: “A Freak.”
Individual’s preference on the generic scale is straight where as they expose
themselves to such affiliates as the cops.
Thus their career path though has us wondering whether or not being a Crime Scene Investigator is
truly right for them. The patient has also reassured us that we may call them by the
following title(s), Gale, or anything but Dorothy. But of the questions asked we are most disturbed to find that
they believe quite adamantly that they resemble Allison Scagliotti; such a claim raises many questions.
Patient’s natural hair coloring is light brown. We are
able to discern easily however their eye pigment coloring which is
brown; no surprises there. With the individual’s weight and height
recorded, we are shocked to learn they are about 120 for their guesstimate
was far off. The question of the subject’s height was no in way different; their true
stature being 5 foot 6. With these recordings we move on to:
distinguishing features
self-presentation
When asked what was their true and honest favorite thing in all the world,
they answered: ”helping to solve a crime”
Taking the same question but applying it to the one thing they despise above
all else, they said with what we may hope is the same sincerity as the first
was answered: ”nightmares.”
We then continued on with them by asking the following questions:
likes?
dislikes?
personal strengths?
personal weaknesses?
Before we go on to the complete evaluation summary we asked that the individual
be completely truthful and share any other pieces of information along the lines of personality
quirks, personal phobias, goals, and secrets which they hold only to themselves
or with others:
be completely truthful and share any other pieces of information along the lines of personality
quirks, personal phobias, goals, and secrets which they hold only to themselves
or with others:
quirks?
phobias?
goals?
secrets?
evaluation summary
As we come one step closer to the end of this session, we reach the basis if not roots
of our subject. We began with questions concerning their immediate relatives.
The persons responsible are/were ”used to be my mom, Emma and my dad Henry”.
Then we asked about siblings to which they responded: ”my older brother Franklin”
Lastly we inquired about significant others who have had held or who hold in a role in
their lives: ”just my nephew Arthur.”
background check
current status
We have now come to our conclusion of this session. To finish we ask first for the name
of the patient’s doctor, Michelle or Mishi. Next we need to know your time
schedule, eastern time zone as well as your visiting plans,
as much as I can without losing it. Then we need to know if you
have anything at all to share: ”I want to be a novelist someday, just you wait and see!”
Lastly before we forget—what will be the patient’s confidentiality title, The Ghost Whisperer
and your past experience in the field would be an excellent finishing touch:
Crazy? Mirabelle Evans? Heh, heh heh heh heh heh….no. Mirabelle wasn’t crazy; a risk taker, sure, but not crazy. Her life was a series of calculated risks, especially in her line of work. Mirabelle knew she was in no harm from what she was doing, provided she kept up her rigid set of habits. As long as she kept telling herself that was she was safe, over and over and over...she was safe. Despite the fact that she was living in the center of what was probably the most unlucky city in the world, she was safe.
Where did Mirabelle live? Why, in Gotham of course. And what was her line of what? Well, now that’s an interesting question, because that depends on who you asked. To the every day ‘respectable citizen’ (if you can call any resident of Gotham such a thing) Mirabelle owned a bookstore, which was only open 3 days a week because she ran it herself. It contained old children’s books, and books that ‘everyone should read before they die.’ Mostly a hobby for Mirabelle, she wasn’t exactly desperate for money.
Now, one may ask, Mirabelle seems like a perfectly nice girl, why was she living in a city like Gotham? Ah, the million dollar question.
Mirabelle was the daughter of some scientists who happened to live in Gotham, and when they disappeared, the police quickly declared them dead. Some help they were...Mirabelle quickly lost faith in people like police, who seemed to accept that there were was simply no help for this city. And one day, Mirabelle was cleaning out some of her parents’ old junk, when she came across some very interesting documents.
Formulas, and hundreds of notebooks, and even live samples. Science at its finest. What exactly did she come across? Various items her parents had been working on before they disappeared, illegal things but things that made Mirabelle wonder just how ‘saintly’ (as other people described them) her parents really were.
Now, Mirabelle was no idiot, in fact many described her as a genius. It didn’t take her long to figure out how to create many of the devices that her parent’s did, and hack her mom’s old computer. That’s when she discovered it. She had been selling guns and drugs to various politicians. So THAT’S how they had made so much money! Skimming the old checks Mirabelle realized just how lucrative the business could be. However, for almost 2 years she didn’t contact anyone. No, she spent the time making everything BETTER. The drugs gave you more high in less the time, and lasted longer. The guns pumped out more bullets and were easier to hide. Hell, she even managed to make an antidote for some of the tear gas that the cops like to use, she could even neutralize some of the Scarecrow’s gas, although that was a work in progress. Finally, Mirabelle built an entire secret room, complete with a three door system to getting in. The first door was password driver, with a password that only Mirabelle knew. The second door was activated via 3 keys that Mirabelle had hidden in her bookshop, her house, and one on her. Although to the onlooker, the door only had one keyhole. The third door was an eye scanner. And only then could one get into her room. What was it filled with? Some comfy couches, a coffee maker, a desk...and walls filled with guns and various test tubes filled with bubbling liquids. All four walls were covered with something, with left very little room for anything. There might have even been a hint of blood on the floor, but Mirabelle was very careful to tidy up silly things like that.
So, who did Mirabelle choose to sell her hellish supply of drugs and weapons too? Why, anyone willing to pay of course. Well, that’s not completely true. Mirabelle was careful enough not to sell to two distinct groups. Politicians, whom she believe to have arranged her parents’ disappearance, and cops- because they were so damn useful they didn’t deserve all these wonderful toys, they deserved to suffer.
So how long has this unground business been going on? Two years. How much has she made? Enough to make her a comfortable millionaire. In fact, it’s odd that you join us on this day. Because for Mirabelle, this was to be her last day in Gotham. That’s right, Mirabelle had arranged enough contacts and money to leave the city and live with her cousin, Alice Wyatt, in a place far away from here. But wait, I hear you cry, won’t the people she supplies drugs to be angry? Well, that’s the thing. Mirabelle never gave them a means to contact her besides her computer, which was so protected those simplistic mafia types could never find her. They only knew her as The Delivery Girl, and she made sure it was kept that way. So thanks to Mirabelle obsessive secret habits, she would be free to disappear without a trace, and no one would be none the wiser. After she had left the city, she was going to visit another friend of hers who had fitted her secret room with a bomb. That’s right, a bomb. But fear not, it can only be activated by a button in that friend’s room, and only by Mirabelle. So there is her plan, leave the city, blow up her room, and live happily ever after.
It was a good day for Mirabelle. She had woken up early, sent out what would be her final shipment of ‘goods’ and headed down to her bookshop. Mirabelle had posted a sign that said the store would be permanently closed after today, and boxes were lined up against the wall in preparation of placing the books in them when the store closed. Mirabelle was sitting behind the register with her usual grin on her face except, this time, it wasn’t fake. It was like Christmas for Mirabelle! She couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this city, especially with these new ‘Royal Court’ characters. Most people didn’t seem to think they’d last very long but Mirabelle, she got a bad feeling whenever she thought about that. Adding in that, and the Oz Killer and this Doll-whatever chick, Mirabelle thought Gotham was screwed.
And the Batman? Bah, don’t make Mirabelle laugh. The guy hadn’t been seen in months, Mirabelle gave up on him when her parents disappeared. What could she say? Mirabelle was always ahead of the curve.
At the moment Mirabelle was all cozied up in a plushy armchair. The store was dead save for one person skimming the shelfs (it’s how it usually was-and the person would probably end up leaving without buying anything; again as usual) and Mirabelle was keeping herself busy by rereading her favorite book, Memoirs of a Geisha, and every few minutes throwing a chip in her mouth to keep the munchies away. Glancing at the clock, Mirabelle signed for a moment. 3.More.Hours.
Where did Mirabelle live? Why, in Gotham of course. And what was her line of what? Well, now that’s an interesting question, because that depends on who you asked. To the every day ‘respectable citizen’ (if you can call any resident of Gotham such a thing) Mirabelle owned a bookstore, which was only open 3 days a week because she ran it herself. It contained old children’s books, and books that ‘everyone should read before they die.’ Mostly a hobby for Mirabelle, she wasn’t exactly desperate for money.
Now, one may ask, Mirabelle seems like a perfectly nice girl, why was she living in a city like Gotham? Ah, the million dollar question.
Mirabelle was the daughter of some scientists who happened to live in Gotham, and when they disappeared, the police quickly declared them dead. Some help they were...Mirabelle quickly lost faith in people like police, who seemed to accept that there were was simply no help for this city. And one day, Mirabelle was cleaning out some of her parents’ old junk, when she came across some very interesting documents.
Formulas, and hundreds of notebooks, and even live samples. Science at its finest. What exactly did she come across? Various items her parents had been working on before they disappeared, illegal things but things that made Mirabelle wonder just how ‘saintly’ (as other people described them) her parents really were.
Now, Mirabelle was no idiot, in fact many described her as a genius. It didn’t take her long to figure out how to create many of the devices that her parent’s did, and hack her mom’s old computer. That’s when she discovered it. She had been selling guns and drugs to various politicians. So THAT’S how they had made so much money! Skimming the old checks Mirabelle realized just how lucrative the business could be. However, for almost 2 years she didn’t contact anyone. No, she spent the time making everything BETTER. The drugs gave you more high in less the time, and lasted longer. The guns pumped out more bullets and were easier to hide. Hell, she even managed to make an antidote for some of the tear gas that the cops like to use, she could even neutralize some of the Scarecrow’s gas, although that was a work in progress. Finally, Mirabelle built an entire secret room, complete with a three door system to getting in. The first door was password driver, with a password that only Mirabelle knew. The second door was activated via 3 keys that Mirabelle had hidden in her bookshop, her house, and one on her. Although to the onlooker, the door only had one keyhole. The third door was an eye scanner. And only then could one get into her room. What was it filled with? Some comfy couches, a coffee maker, a desk...and walls filled with guns and various test tubes filled with bubbling liquids. All four walls were covered with something, with left very little room for anything. There might have even been a hint of blood on the floor, but Mirabelle was very careful to tidy up silly things like that.
So, who did Mirabelle choose to sell her hellish supply of drugs and weapons too? Why, anyone willing to pay of course. Well, that’s not completely true. Mirabelle was careful enough not to sell to two distinct groups. Politicians, whom she believe to have arranged her parents’ disappearance, and cops- because they were so damn useful they didn’t deserve all these wonderful toys, they deserved to suffer.
So how long has this unground business been going on? Two years. How much has she made? Enough to make her a comfortable millionaire. In fact, it’s odd that you join us on this day. Because for Mirabelle, this was to be her last day in Gotham. That’s right, Mirabelle had arranged enough contacts and money to leave the city and live with her cousin, Alice Wyatt, in a place far away from here. But wait, I hear you cry, won’t the people she supplies drugs to be angry? Well, that’s the thing. Mirabelle never gave them a means to contact her besides her computer, which was so protected those simplistic mafia types could never find her. They only knew her as The Delivery Girl, and she made sure it was kept that way. So thanks to Mirabelle obsessive secret habits, she would be free to disappear without a trace, and no one would be none the wiser. After she had left the city, she was going to visit another friend of hers who had fitted her secret room with a bomb. That’s right, a bomb. But fear not, it can only be activated by a button in that friend’s room, and only by Mirabelle. So there is her plan, leave the city, blow up her room, and live happily ever after.
It was a good day for Mirabelle. She had woken up early, sent out what would be her final shipment of ‘goods’ and headed down to her bookshop. Mirabelle had posted a sign that said the store would be permanently closed after today, and boxes were lined up against the wall in preparation of placing the books in them when the store closed. Mirabelle was sitting behind the register with her usual grin on her face except, this time, it wasn’t fake. It was like Christmas for Mirabelle! She couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this city, especially with these new ‘Royal Court’ characters. Most people didn’t seem to think they’d last very long but Mirabelle, she got a bad feeling whenever she thought about that. Adding in that, and the Oz Killer and this Doll-whatever chick, Mirabelle thought Gotham was screwed.
And the Batman? Bah, don’t make Mirabelle laugh. The guy hadn’t been seen in months, Mirabelle gave up on him when her parents disappeared. What could she say? Mirabelle was always ahead of the curve.
At the moment Mirabelle was all cozied up in a plushy armchair. The store was dead save for one person skimming the shelfs (it’s how it usually was-and the person would probably end up leaving without buying anything; again as usual) and Mirabelle was keeping herself busy by rereading her favorite book, Memoirs of a Geisha, and every few minutes throwing a chip in her mouth to keep the munchies away. Glancing at the clock, Mirabelle signed for a moment. 3.More.Hours.
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I'M NOT MAD BATMAN! by a.l.e.x.entric of caution 2.0