Enter Search: Walter Layton
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[font=Century Gothic]Walter (No middle name) Layton
Born 21st July 777 A.S. on Planet Manhattan. Raised by biological mother and biological father/step-father (biological father died 779 A.S.). Attended Pennsylvania VII Primary School and Michael Fairchild High School. No record of College or University education.
Applied for Liberty Navy 797 A.S. Trained at Fort Roberts for two years before graduating in 799 A.S. Placed into Navy Carrier LNS-Iowa fighter group, 14th Iowa Squadron. Retired 803 A.S., final rank Lieutenant. Bank accounts emptied and funds used to purchase X4TS "Tiger Shark" Civilian Light Fighter. Purchased Freelancer Identification.
Admitted to J. Steiner Mental Institute in August 816 A.S. after signs of unstable mental health were apparent. Continued imprisonment until mental stability was proven. Released August 817 A.S. Six people murdered outside of Sirius Sector (meaning no law against it) and Layton returned to the care of J. Steiner Mental Institute in September 817 A.S. Escaped October 817 A.S. with inmate Dr. Axel von Fischer.
Dr. Jacob Steiner browsed through the paperwork laid across his desk. It was just another day at his mental institute, named after him. But he loved the work, because it distracted him from his other problems in life. The divorce. The deaths. The diseases.
He continued to thumb through the paperwork, reading about a new treatment that could potentially allow the growth of limbs at a much faster rate. His trail of thoughts was interrupted when he heard a knock on the glass window built into his door.
'Come in,' he shouted to the figure he could see through the glass. The door opened and a short, pudgy woman - his secretary - waddled into the room. If she had her arms at her sides she would look like an obese penguin. Her skin was black but she had recently dyed her hair a bleach-white. Steiner did not know what world it looked good in, but it certainly wasn't his.
'Sir, your new patient just arrived.' Steiner looked up from his paperwork and gave her a glance that asked more than his words.
'Janet, does this patient have a name that you know of?' He watched as she searched her memory for the name, until the answer finally hit her face like a wet sponge.
'Yes sir, I believe his name is Walter Layton.' Steiner immediately remembered that the man she was talking of had been appointed to the clinic a few hours ago. He immediately set down his paperwork and raised himself out of his seat.
Steiner mindlessly glided into Isolation Room #4 to visit his new patient. As soon as his secretary had given him the name the report details had flooded back into his mind.
Walter Layton was a licensed freelancer employed in a small exploration company, Edd's Exploration. The name was obviously poorly created, as was the organization. It was practically a rag-tag group of freelancers who exploited each other to make some extra profits in their separate endeavours. They used the latest technology to explore far outside the Sirius Sector. The report had mentioned that they may have had dealings with the terrorist group known as the Order to have access to the technology needed to leave the sector, but Steiner doubted that.
Those in the group who had been questioned stated that on an operation exploring an area near the Sirius Sector they had uncovered a "gold mine", meaning a very profitable area. They had found several different artefacts that would be very profitable when sold on the black market. One of their group members, Walter Layton, had inadvertently activated the largest of the artefacts found. The rest, it was later revealed to the disappointed group, were merely trinkets. It didn't mean they wouldn't make a profit, just not as large of one.
Once they had returned to their headquarters - an illegal warehouse whose location was not revealed in the report - the other members of the group immediately noticed Layton's change in behaviour. He was withdrawn, distracted, and quiet. He claimed to be hearing voices on their next few missions. Eventually they asked him to see a doctor, but he immediately rejected the idea and threatened to hurt them if they brought it up again. In the night of the planet they were located on, they restrained Layton and immediately took the two day trip to the best clinic they knew of, which just happened to be the J. Steiner Mental Institute.
Now, as the memories of the patient flooded into his mind, he was shocked at the transformation in looks his new patient had gone through. The picture that had been provided showed a civilized 39 year old man, but the man he looked upon was more like a wild beast. Fortunately he was still restrained to the bed he had been wheeled in on, because if he had not been restrained he surely would have attacked. His mouth was frothing and he was shaking violently.
As the medic injected him with a sedative, Steiner immediately had the feeling that this patient was going to be worse than he thought.
Layton sat quietly in Isolation Room #4. He observed his room for the millionth time: Plain white padding covered all walls and the only furniture was a plastic bed frame with a thin mattress resting on top. Everything was white, even the thin hospital clothing he wore.
He had been in the "loony bin" for three weeks. The people gave him medication, but it didn't help him. He still heard the voice in his head. It was actually louder now.
'Hello again Walter.' That was it again. He tried to ignore it, tried so very hard, but the voice always won.
'I told you to leave me alone' he said aloud. He knew the doctors could hear him, but he didn't care. He had to communicate with it, or it would hurt him.
'Now Walter, you know that will never happen! I'm with you for life, and you need to accept it. The sooner you do that, the sooner we can break out of this hole and live our life. Won't that be fun?'
'I'm staying here until you go away', he replied with a courageous voice. The pain was sudden and expected. It was small, but he knew that it would soon grow.
'He he he he he. Now now, do you reeeally think I'm going too simply: "go away". No no no Walter, I've said it before time and time again, I'm with you for life. Come on, I want to see the world outside of this white box. I want to see colours and machines. And you my friend are my chariot. My limousine. My taxi to a new life.'
The pain suddenly disappeared, and Layton's nose immediately started to bleed. He allowed the blood to pour, glad to see vibrant colours in his plain room. And secretly hoping it would kill him.
Christmas celebrations. He could hear the fireworks in the distance. Hear the party-goers stampeding through the streets, singing verse after verse of "We wish you a Merry Christmas." Layton always found it odd how a religious holiday for one religion that few now believed in was such a big part of people's lives. The festive season brought out so much kindness in people, where in the rest of the year there is none.
'We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!' The voice sung it as if it were mocking him.
Layton pressed his ear against the wall, still hearing the drunken carolling, and wished so much he could be with them.
'Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!' The voice sung this as Walter Layton sat at the Christmas Dinner.
It was Christmas day, and the festive breakfast was well under way. The inmates at the J. Steiner Mental Institute ate breakfast, lunch and dinner together everyday. It encouraged social interaction. But the hall was always quiet, filled only with requests to pass food around.
But today was different. The Christmas music echoed through the room, barely heard over the volume of conversation. It was as if for one day every man, woman and child in the institute was a normal human being again.
Layton sat between two large men shouting over the music at each other, food spraying out of their mouths like hoses. They were discussing the staff.
'Yeah, Miss Briggs's definitely got a fine ass.'
'Nice titties as well.' They both roared with laughter. But Layton wasn't listening to them, instead talking to a man across the table. He was small compared to the others around him, with thick strands of coal-black hair and deep eyes. But his face always looked friendly and welcoming.
'So,' Layton said to him, 'why're you in here?' The expression on his face suddenly changed. It was no longer as friendly, replaced with confusion.
'Well,' he started with a frail voice, 'I created a new nerve gas. It was the product of years of experimentation. A gas that would cause the lungs to explode and people to die in the most horrible way imaginable.
'But I needed to test it. So what I did,' he suddenly started giggling manically. After several seconds he controlled it, but when he spoke Layton could still hear it on his voice. 'I let it out in a shopping centre. It was fairly new, and there were thousands of people in there. This was in Rheinland, Planet Hamburg specifically.
'There was so much carnage. I stood around them with my gas mask on. Thousands were lying on the floor, dying a horrible death. They clawed at my feet, and I laughed. The next thing I know, police forces were storming the building. They had gas masks as well, and despite my best efforts to escape they caught me.
'My lawyer managed to win the trial with my plead of insanity. And then I was shipped here.' The giggles returned, and after several more seconds he stopped and returned to his food.
Layton took the hint and also returned to his turkey leg, mashed potatoes and string beans.
'He looked perfectly normal, but when you dig a little deeper you find the insanity. It lives in everyone. Doesn't it?' It immediately began to sing another Christmas song. 'Oh the weather outside if frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!'
'Stop it stop it STOP IT!' Layton screamed, seemingly into a quiet and empty room. But he was directly his rage at the voice. He had tried to ignore the voice when it talked to him.
'Oooo, this is so fun! Hurting you is fun, but if I go to far then.... I will stop when you stop trying to ignore me. Dashing through the snow, on a one horse open sleigh, o'er the fields we go....'
'Shut up!' It had been singing Christmas carols for months now. The constant tunes made him feel like he was right where he belonged. A mental facility. The pain returned in his head, and he fell to his knees whilst clutching his now throbbing head.
'He he he he he he, this is fun! Oh how I enjoy this. These songs are happy, and I like being happy!' The pain increased. 'So, how about we break out of here now? I know you've had enough of this place, and all you have to do is pretend your sane.' It's voice suddenly changed from a sing-song happy to a deadly serious.
'We're getting out of here Walter, or we're dying here.' Those were the last words Layton heard before he crossed into the realm of unconsciousness.
Dr. Jacob Steiner sat in his office. It was 22:00, and the inhabitants of the building were asleep. Except for Steiner. He regularly worked late into the night, and today was no acception. But even if he stopped, he doubted that he would sleep.
He was arranging the release of Walter Layton. His progress had been remarkable, and now he regularly held long and beneficial conversations with other patients and staff. Steiner now saw no reason for a man he now saw as sane to continue his stay at the institution. Only yesterday he had had an enjoyable conversation with the man.
Steiner was talking to one of the people in the group who had admitted him, Francesca Lord. He remarked how her name could seem so masculine and feminine at the same time. Francesca was a name you would normally hear in the fashion world as some model. But her last name gave the impression of power and importance.
It turned out that Francesca was nothing like her first name implied. Although a petite woman, she commanded those around her with the skill and determination of an Army general. Steiner now listened to her voice over the phone.
'If you're sure he's sane again, then when can you release him? I don't want it rushed, I'm just worried he could go on some killing spree.'
This raised a question Steiner had hoped not to answer. Was Layton truly sane? Or was it just some sort of act designed to ride him out of the cage and into the field?
Steiner honestly believed that his patient had made a full recovery. Truth was, he could have been classed as sane little over two months ago. But Steiner had continued to hold him for an observation period. And now he could no longer make any excuses to hold him any longer.
Finally, after several seconds of silence, Steiner formulated an appropriate answer.
'I have confidence that he will not do that. He could have been released two months ago, but I kept him on observation. He is perfectly sane, just yesterday I had an enjoyable conversation with him. You can come by tomorrow to visit him if you want, or even pick him up.'
There was a pause. Finally, he heard Francesca exhale into the speaker. 'Alright. But if he's not sane, I want my money back.' Before he heard the chuckle she had hung up the phone.
He put his phone back in its receiver and stared back down at his paperwork. With a sigh he brushed it into a draw and raised himself out of his seat. Then he groaned and staggered towards his bed, hoping that he had made the right call.
The sun was shining outside on the beautiful mountains of Planet Gran Canaria. Steiner never regretted the location he had built his hospital. He believed the incredible views would help his patients. But he secretly knew that it only increased their depression, due to the fact that they could never leave to explore the wonderland before them.
In reality, the view helped Steiner far more than any of the patients. Sometimes he would take his paperwork to his favourite bench and become lost in the beauty of the world. He never actually did any work on his bench, but he took it with him so he felt like he was helping by staring at the mountains in the distance.
He was sitting on his bench now, enjoying the sunlight that covered his unprotected patches of skin and losing his mind in the sanctuary that was his imagination. But his mind was disturbed, for in the distance he heard the thrusters of a ship. A ship that was heading towards the hospital.
He could see it now, if he used his hands to shield his eyes from the sun. The trails leading away were wide and short, so he believed it to be some sort of freighter. His suspicion was confirmed when it altered its course to land on the docking platform not far from his bench.
He could now barely make out letters on the side of the craft. He could not read them, they were too far away. But as the ship got closer, he immediately recognised the logo of the company. A few seconds after that, the freighter was close enough that he could read the letters painted on the side.
[font=Agency FB]Edd's [color=#009900]Exploration
Dear god, Steiner thought to himself. This can't be good news.
As Steiner calmly walked towards the freighter that had landed on the docking platform, he watched the large ramp slowly lower itself down. It creaked and groaned, but it kept its snail-like speed and eventually touched down onto the concrete platform.
A lone figure limped out of the ship, aided by a crutch. He recognised the figure immediately - it was Francesca Lord. Her navy blue coveralls were covered with dark red patches, but most were bunched around the leg she was trying to avoid applying pressure to.
Steiner immediately broke out from his calm walk into a frantic run, questions racing through his mind like racing cars on the track. He reached Lord without an ounce of oxygen left in his system, so he just stood infront of her, panting like an olympic athlete after a mad dash to victory.
He noticed the burn marks on her coveralls' leg. Another car joined the questioning track. Why the hell was she shot? She obvious saw the alarm on his face, because she rushed to answer him.
'Don't worry, it missed all of the important blood vessels.'
Steiner's face filled with relief as she said this, but was quickly replaced again with the alarm. He immediately rushed to ask his first question, which was the most important.
'What happened to you?'
Her eyes locked with his, as if she was trying to transfer the memories to him. 'It's a long story.'