The Patient's Painkiller is a Psycholologist

Chapter 1

Noise began to flood into the room, chatter grew immense and the white lights brighter, people weren't shapes and they were present and talking amongst themselves.
Leaning against the wall as he pulled out his glasses from the pocket of his shirt, he began to assess.

"We can't take that lunatic!" A man cried, face red and eyebrows drawn in anger as he slammed his hand against the white table

"We can't exactly get rid of him either" a woman huffed, arms crossed as her index finger tapped against her own arm

"Well...no one wants to take this job" another woman says, twiddling her hair invetween her fingers "so what do we do?"

"Assign the job to someone" another man shrugged seeming uncaring if not from the way he bounced his leg and clenched his coffee

"What if the job is assigned to you? You're going to do it?" The woman with crossed arms pointed with an accusing look

"Personally, I think we should just...you know" a thin man looked down at his feet before filling his cup with coffee

"Put him down?" Suggested another

"This isn't a dog!"

"Can't be a man either! Thing's mad! He's going to put us all in danger like the last hospital"

"Wasn't it just an accident though?"

"Accident or not- it happened!"

So...so noisy. He sipped on his coffee.

"What's happening" someone new entered and his attention turned to them "I saw policemen at the front and everyone is gossiping" she carried a joking tone.

Silence.
The angry man's jaw twitches. The lady's finger grasps her arm. The woman's hands play with her own hair more. The man whos sat down crosses his arms. The other man taps his coffee cup...

Everyone is on edge. Shaken, he notes.

And perhaps he should be too.

Their conversation is cut short when an announcement is made though the white speakers, calling the psychologist in the same area as he to go to a meeting room.

"Shi-- I didn't see you there man" one of his colleagues jumps as she notices him lean away from the wall to follow the announcement "You're like a ghost...damn" she laughs but her feet face away from him and her hands come closer to herself. She's creeped out.

"I get that a lot" he smiled to ease her a little, fixing his glasses as he threw the cup away in the trash.

Just like everything else, the room was white. Pale chairs and table and a large whiteboard that had been rubbed clean.

"Is everyone here?" his manager, John Jonah Jameson, asks with a cigarette trapped inbetween his lips as he sat at the end of the table. Placing his cigarette on an ashtray, he blows a puff of smoke out and lifts his head enough that his jaw seems to be making more eye contact than his actual eyes.

Looking down on his employees.

Covering his wrinkling nose, he closed his eyes for a moment to focus on not coughing or cringing at the scent of cigarettes or even dare to tell his superior that it is phorbidden to smoke on grounds.
With shoulders forced to relax, he stared ahead towards his Jonah Jameson, awaiting whatever were to come.

"As many of you know, we got a new patient recently" John J began, twisting the butt of the cigarette for a moment "We took him in because we're being paid to keep him under control, to help him as it is our job..." he looked up, eyes pausing on every head of his employees.

"It might've been a scary sight, I know. The...unstable people we take in sometimes wear straight jackets but they rarely become as aggressively as some of ypu might seen-" he stopped, mustache curling downwards with a frown as someone lift their hand "What?"

"Is it true that they hurt their last aide? That they...killed them?" One asked, eyes widening in fear

"No- he didn't kill her" John rolled his eyes "just severely hurt her- nothing to worry about" he waved his hand, dismissing it "Now... as I was saying, we are getting paid well for this and all we have to do is check up on the guy once or twice- keep him locked in one of the rooms where he won't be anything to worry about..." he huffed, leaning back against the chair "we will be performing talk sessions as you'd any other, check on mental and physical health too"

The room seemed to grow tense, people looking away or down at themselves, much alike how kids avoid the teacher's eyes in order not to get picked for a question.

"This meeting is to choose who will be that someone- the one responsible for this new patient--" John huffed harshly, glaring at him "What?"

"What is the Patient's name?" He asked, leaning in curiously "and if its alright asking, what seems to be the problem with him?"

"Well he's fucking crazy that's what's wrong with him" John snarled before keeping his eyes trained on him "if you want more information it will be in his records...that you'll get when you accept him as your patient" he said slowly as if negotiating.

Wide eyes followed and landed on him as if some sort of spotlight were shining down upon him, a microphone pointed at his mouth, awaiting answer.

"I'd like to take this patient, Mr Jameson" he nodded before jumping as his manager suddenly got up

"Well it's decided then, come along now" he span around towards the door, seeming to not wait for him to follow.

The walk out of the room was...something. People seemed to look at him with sympathy, confusion or as if he were either crazy or dead. Some even patted his shoulder as he walked out with thankful smiles like he were sacrificing himself for them.

"Weird" he mumbled with a small huffed, entertained by their reactions.

Lead to a white door and given a white file on the patient, he took a seat outside once John had left him with a loud laugh and harsh pat on the back

"You're a real life saver!" He smacked the air out of him just before he strolled away, free of responsibility.

Slowly, he adjusted his glasses as he began to read, butt against the cold floor as he rubbed his face in the files.

"Name: Wade Winston Wilson. Age: 31" he read quietly to himself, taking in the notes of the previous aide as well the reports filed by doctors and the officers that were on site when the I incident happened.

"A burn victim" he hummed with a frown that kept making itself present as he began to notice there was not nearly enough on his actual health despite being a burnt victim, despite having clear mental distress...

With another sigh he stood, wiping his bottom before tucking the file neatly beneath his arm as he turned towards the door and grabbed the handle.
Faltering for only a moment, ears straining for noise from the inside before he finally took a deep breath and-

White. White walls, white bedsheets, white table, white chairs, white jacket...and bright blue eyes hidden behind a red mask.

"Good morning, Mr Wilson" he greeted with a friendly smile "I am here to help you during your stay here" he introduced himself

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Peter Parker"