We Need a Little....Shock Treatment!

There's a particular sound in the universe. A familiar wheezing, groaning sound that echoes throughout space and time, bringing love and kindness to some; terror and fear to others. The wheezing, groaning sound is attached to a bright blue police box, complete with a flashing lantern atop and a squeaky hinged door. This particular box appears out of nowhere, with no warning and no reason. It's often referred to as the TARDIS.

Inside the TARDIS is a mystery in itself. The outside of the box, vastly unproportionate to it's inside, houses nearly an entire planet of technology and wonderment. The pilot of the craft, with his (or her) ever changing face, often frantically runs around the console of the craft, twisting knobs and buttons in a frantic attempt to make himself look like he knows what he's doing. He's often wrong.

On this particular day however, not too far away from Arkham, Massachusetts, in the United States, rests the Miskatonic Sanitarium, a sterile and maddening place where only the insane rest their minds. The thick, foggy mist that oozed along the ground outside in the garden only lent a particularly eerie feeling to the still, quietness that resided there on that early, cloudy morning.

The patient in room 31C, who was conveniently an insomniac, had an excellent view of the garden. The sun was barely over the horizon, but it shed no light to any of the features that were disguised by the fog. No birds were to be heard, no automobiles were grinding in the distance, nothing.

That was until the fog and mist began to cyclone up, grinding and twisting to a dark, blockish form. A small light was blinking periodically on top of the block, appearing right before his eyes. The patient, who thought that any other sane person who would have witnessed this would have gone crazy, simply thought the was hallucinating from lack of sleep.

The patient watched as the box's doors opened up, and a tallish looking man with a long flowing scarf, wrapped around his neck once, a red corduroy jacket, and an argyle cardigan peeking out underneath. He quickly came out of the box, coughing and waving his hands from the smoke pouring out of the box, only to return and slam the doors closed. He paused for a moment at the doors, taking a deep breath, and turning towards the building.

Hesitantly, be began to walk towards the doors of the sanitarium, disappearing within eyesight of the patient, and into the doors of the building.

"Alright... So tell me again, why do I have to go here?" Tyra asked once again, her blue eyes locked on the building in front of her, the hand gripping her phone to her ear tightening a fraction and earning a faint, but alarming crack from the plastic as it protested against the strain. "Jack, there is nothing here, why the hell do I have to go deal with people that are probably more sane than the people I know now? I'll be admitted if they find anything out about me, you know that right?"

She paused, listening to the soft voice on the other end of the phone before letting out a long, defeated sigh. "Alright! Fine, but you owe me. I mean it, all you can eat, steak, lobster, the works." Tyra snapped before ending the call and striding up the walkway to the front door. Failing to notice the familiar blue box off to the side as she ducked into the dimly lit lobby and headed towards the front desk. "Hi..." She said awkwardly, leaning both elbows on the counter as she waited for the man behind it to turn and give her his attention. "Look, I have a friend of mine that asked me to stop in here and talk to his uncle or something. I'm not sure why, but he's in London right now so..."

Trailing off, Tyra nearly slapped herself for how awful it sounded and let out a low sigh. "Right, that sounds horrible to be honest. I'll just be on my way, I don't think you'll let anyone in without being family so... Yeah." With that, she turned around and headed back to the door, already planning another way inside.

The Doctor faced the massive, stone building with a sense of dread. He'd dealt with Sanitariums and Asylums before, but this one in particular was a bit more than he could handle. Dalek warships were nothing, Cybermen hives were a piece of cake. But a place were humans put other humans who seemed to not fit in with normal human mores and ideals: that's where things got sketchy.

The building, he noticed, was uniform and symmetrical, designed with a large, domed spire on top. The building was a particular shade of grey that seemed to almost blend in with the clouds above. An innumerable amount of windows with bars speckled the front of the building, but certainly not bringing any sort of humanity to the place.

With utter dread, he locked the doors of the craft, remembering that this was only his first flight with this new body and mind, and began to approach the building. Reaching the large, metallic doors of the building, he pushed them open and walked in.

Immediately greeting by a foul must and age, he pushed his way to the front desk, where a charming 30-something or other sat, chewing on the end of a pencil. "A-hem." No response.

"Pardon me, my good fellow. I'm wondering if you could direct me to a local telephone?" The man, observing this unusually dressed man with his long flowing scarf and outdated jacket, lit up like a firecracker.

"Ah! So you've come back now, eh? Missed us here at Miskatonic?" The Doctor, taken aback by the accusations made by the man, could only pause a moment to collect his thoughts.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh come now, you've escaped once, you wont escape again. GUARDS!"