Gangstalking/MKTECH Memories; True Stories of The Illuminati #2: The Tower and Forced Psychic Surgery
(*Note: This is not necessarily autobiographical, though written in the First Person, but I would not relate it if I was not convinced of the truth inherent and by posting all data under my account I am protecting my "Sources")
(*Authors Note: This has been one of the hardest stories for me to get down on paper. Even now, five years later, it is so insane sounding, and there are so few sources I can find to back me up, though I did write letters to all the Police Officers involved, I got no response. Of course. Now I will attempt, yet again, to accurately record what happened to me. Keep in mind that I was hallucinating wildly at the time, having been dosed with an 8-month long lasting Hallucinogen. Also keep in mind that I am an accomplished Psychedelic Warlord and well experienced with a wide range of Hallucinogens. Finally, keep in mind that many of the details could not have been hallucinations, unless I was on some sort of 5-part Hallucinogen like Datura and none of this happened at all. Sadly, there is too much evidence that this is not the case.)
Laying on the floor of my apartment I was trying to get some rest. I had been awake for about a week, my back was killing me, I was clearly hallucinating, someone or someones had been consistently entering my apartment while I was gone and messing with things. They had stolen all of my pain and psych medications, leaving only my Flexeril muscle relaxant. They had stolen many of my accumulated spiritual items of protection (who on earth would want to steal those? Some of them looked like just old rocks!). They had left my two laptops and other valuables that any simple thief would focus on.
The Flexeril did not seem to be working, so I took some more. As I was about to pop another one I noticed that the pill was not the small, flat, yellow pill I usually took. It was, in fact, a larger white pill with the number "777" imprinted on it (Ignore the Occult significance of this number for now). I emptied the bottle, looking for a Flexeril, and found they were all "777" pills. I looked them up online and found them to be Aderrall aka the strongest legal amphetamine on the market. Who would replace all my muscle relaxers with Speed? Speed was valuable! These pills sold for about $20 each on the street at that time. No wonder I had been without sleep and hallucinating, but who would want me to be so spun? Who would invest money and manpower in making me spun?
Before I had long to contemplate this there was a banging on my door. I opened it to find no less than four uniformed SFPD officers, who immediately bulged into my small room, pushing me to the floor and pinning my hands behind my back violently. No talk, no Miranda Rights. Just violence and being dragged to the car. This was the first time I had ever had Police assault me in my own home for no apparent reason, but it would not be the last.
Sadly I have some experience with San Francisco's City Jail at 850 Bryant. My Illuminati father had gone to a huge party that was held there for the wealthy when it had been built. I knew all too well exactly how it worked, or so I thought.
First the suspect goes through "Processing" on the ground floor, which takes anywhere from 1-3 days. Processing is a series of cells you are moved through, each one associated with a different necessary action: Finger Printing, Mug Shot, Medical Triage, OR Consideration, Classification, etc.
After this everyone (as far as my experience and those of fellow criminals knew) went to "F-Pod" for the next 1-3 days, while the court decided whether to pursue your case, where you might get a phone call to arrange bail, etc.
After F-Pod you either went into the Jail Proper, or were released. The design of F-Pod is modern, essentially being two circles on top of each other with a "Control Center" in the middle Where 1-3 Sheriff's Deputies ran everything with a huge Star Wars Style control panel, between the two circular floors. The top circle was small two-person cells with outer Plexiglas window-walls reserved for violent or the worst of the alleged criminals. The bottom, where I had always been, was open four-man rooms, with two bunk-beds.
This is not what happened to me on this occasion.
On this occasion I was informally placed in the "Detox Room" of the ground floor, a large room with toilet, but no chairs, and no phone, the outer wall all Plexiglas as with most of this part of 850 Bryant. I was NOT PROCESSED. Nobody would talk to me. I was not fingerprinted, did not get to speak to the medical staff, nothing. All that happened to me there was that every once in a while a group of about five to seven burly, white, angry Deputies and/or Cops would come in and kick the shit out of me, for no apparent reason. Though they were all laughing about it and I kept hearing them joke about how "This guy is going straight to the Top Floor!" I had no idea what that was or what it meant or even how these guys could be so happy to beat up a helpless citizen who didn't even fight back.
After about three days (by my clock-less estimate and by watching the other citizens being processed through my window/wall) some of the white guys came back and I was terrified of them by that point, of course, expecting another beating. But among them was a small Latino Officer named "Vigil." At that point I had no trust for white men and I pleaded with Officer Vigil, mostly with my eyes, to somehow help me. The group decided that Vigil and two other white officers would escort me to the "Top Floor."
Inside the all-metal elevator Officer Vigil told me to "kneel down facing the corner" and of course I did. As soon as I was in position he slammed my head into the metal corner, cutting open my eyebrow and causing blood to flow down my face. At the time I knew this was an act of mercy. The white guys kinda shrugged.
(*Intermission: A lot of stuff happened here that will be chronicled later. For now I just want to get down the SFPD/SFGH "Vampiric Psychic Surgery" Incident, so I will be skipping some things...)
I was in an isolation cell with my head bleeding, having never made it to the "Top Floor," thanks to Officer Vigil. My back (which has herniated discs, rheumatoid arthritis, and degenerative disc disease) was killing me, I was beat up, disoriented, had not been fed in recent memory, and was apparently under Illegal Rendition. 850 Bryant was not working at all like I knew it should.
It was late at night, I could tell by the skeleton night crew of Officers, when my cell was opened by Officer Cole. Cole was a drop-dead gorgeous African-American Officer, I had never seen a Police Officer so beautiful. She had full lips, a perfect body, and she simply glowed with a good-will and inner peace that I did not associate with Police. She kindly cuffed me, not too tightly, and led me to the Police Car. I thought I was being set free, for the first of many, many, false times.
As I got into the back of the Police car I noticed that it was the crappiest Police Car I had ever been in. More than crappy, though, it seemed to have been victim of intentional sabotage. There was no standard Police computer or camera, though all Official SFPD Cars had them, and even the spot where the radio would have been was just a large hole with wires sticking out. What was going on? Was I being secretly transported?
When we got to San Francisco General Hospital I was somewhat relieved. It seemed Cole genuinely liked me and she was very sweet. She said I would get taken care of.
I also have plenty of experience with SFGH, both the Psych Ward (PES) as well as the ER. Cole escorted me through a maze of corridors I had never been in before, leading me past all nurses, past Triage, to a room near the back of the Hospital. When we got where we were going it appeared, like the car, to be the crappiest room in SFGH, partly under construction. The first thing I noticed was the spot on the ceiling that usually had a Camera was just a hole with wires sticking out, just like the Cop Car, like someone had just ripped the thing out.
The ER room was small, with only two beds separated by a Curtain. Cole had me lay on a bed and cuffed me "4-point," which means I was on my back with one arm on each side handcuffed to the bed and both my legs spread-eagle, also cuffed. My back killing me and blood running down over my eye. There was a curtain to my left and on the other side of it was a very large (fat), old, man who was unconscious and apparently dying for some reason. He must have been somebody important because everybody was paying attention to him constantly. I heard him referred to as "The Cardinal." He had his own Police Officer, a large (sumo large) Chinese Cop named "Fox." Fox was not like Cole, and contrasting the two made me wonder if Cole was some kind of Robot or Android, because clearly Fox was a human. Though she mostly ignored me, I felt no malice from her, and her "Earthy" energy would later help me accomplish what they had brought me there to accomplish.
The Cardinal also had his own private Nurse, a gorgeous young Italian Woman, a private security Guard with long white hair who was packing a long-nosed revolver, who I nick-named "Johnny." Then there was four to six Italian women to his left, apparently all praying for him.
While his EKG was beeping and various Doctors and Nurses were attempting to save him, I was being totally ignored. The only people who seemed to even know I was alive was Cole, Fox, The Italian Nurse I was in Love with, and Johnny. I was charming the pants off of Cole, but still getting no medical attention, and I was in a lot of pain, so at some point I insulted her. This insult immediately turned her into my enemy and I sorely regretted it. Apparently robots do not have the capacity to forgive. The Italian Nurse gave me some water and later when I had to pee Johnny told Cole to uncuff me AND SHE DID! Since when do the Cops obey orders from Private Security? After I was done pissing in the jug Johnny preempted Cole and insisted kindly on using his own pair of cuffs which were padded with yellow rubber and thus much more comfortable. He winked at me and said something about how when this was all over he would make sure I get some painkillers and coffee.
It was not "over" for about 15 hours. All that time, me just in blinding pain from 4-point, blood flowing down my face. All I needed was a few simple stitches, but I was universally ignored. Because I had nothing better to do and I had shut down Cole and everyone else was too busy with The Cardinal to pay any attention to me, I began to "work with energy."
I suppose this needs some explanation. I began studying meditation and Chakras and Tantra (or "Psychic Energy Manipulation") quite young and though I was pretty rusty and out of practice, what else was there to do?
Two "Doctors" seemed to be "Administrating" the "Psychic" activity surrounding The Cardinal. The first one I had met on my first visit to SFGH Psych Emergency Services (PES) and saw again in some empty "F-Pod Clone" at 850 Bryant later. She was a youngish woman with badly bleached hair who called herself "Dee."
The second was a middle-aged "Doctor" also with bleached hair who looked nothing like a Doctor to me. He looked like a ratty surfing beach bum. I seemed to overhear that he had been flown in just for the operation (and that if I played my cards right I might end up like him, working on contract, making tons of money administrating "Psychic" healings around the world for the Illuminati, apparently with kidnapped Psychics like myself as the "Batteries."). Surfer and Dee would pass through the room from time to time, rearranging things or personal, but they never stayed too long, as if they were conscious of the Psychic aspect of everything and did not want to get caught in it.
I began to "breath in" (literally breath = Prana = Energy) energy from each of the people in the room, rather like a crazy wine-tasting. It turned out the energy that I "stole" from each person had different qualities. Apparently the most powerful, for me, was the energy that came from attractive young women like Cole, Italian Nurse, and several of The Cardinals Family Members in the Galley.
But what could I do with this energy, being tied down as I was? Remembering my lessons I tried to ground myself and I found two ways. I could either grab the metal rail of my stretcher with both hands, or I could "exhale" the energy into Officer "Sumo" Fox (who seemed to be there just to serve this exact purpose).
When the "Administrator Vampires" noticed what was happening they rearranged the people in the room, removing some of the older women and men from the gallery and making sure there was a fresh flow of young attractive Nurses passing through the room, for me to "feed on." I really had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it, but it was the only thing I had to do, so I kept experimenting.
The most interesting part bar far was when The Cardinals EKG flat-lined. I grounded my right hand on the metal rail and pointed my left toward him. I breathed in the Energy of a young woman and Exhaled it through my left hand toward The Cardinal and he came back to life. For the next few moments his EKG was beeping in perfect synchronous with my breathing of energy into him. Just for curiosity I leg go of the rail, un-grounding myself, and his EKG instantly responded, so I re-grounded and brought him back to life again.
After he had been stable for a while the room calmed down. Apparently this was exactly why I was here. I had been identified by Dr. Dee as a usable resource by some sort of Illuminati Vampire Group that knew how to force "people like me" to their own ends. I had never even imagined in my craziest LSD Psychotic breaks that something like this could exist. Exist INSIDE the Police and even the Hospital. Cameras ripped out and all.
With all this craziness came the consciousness not only of my own potential power, but also that some people were apparently "robots," whatever that meant. Made by Aliens? Made by God? Made by humans? How or why I still do not know, but that is how it appeared at the time and I would continue to meet "robots" for the next year. Cole was my first and I had broke her with one unkind word.
Eventually I picked one of the Surgeons who I could tell was a robot and I said to him "You are my surgeon. Stitch my eyebrow." Like the perfect robot he was, he immediately followed my command backed up by power and I finally got my eyebrow stitched up, though without any anesthetic.
The morning had come, The Cardinal had stabilized, and my role in the Vampiric Psychic Surgery was done. Johnny told me my drugs and breakfast and coffee were coming soon.
One of the family members gave Fox a white envelope I could tell was filled with cash. The family was led out of the room and Johnny took back his yellow cuffs so that Fox could retake possession of me. She took me out to he car and forced me into the backseat which was soaking wet with cold spilled coffee. That was my reward.
As she was driving me back I knew that she was a robot and that I had power over robots, if only I summoned it. She was, in my mind at that time, a gift from the "Mafia" and had I not made a negative impact on her I would have been better off. I summoned the last of my Psychic Energy and told her to pull over the car. We all know that there is no way a Cop is going to pull over the car just because you tell them to. But she did, immediately. I told her to get out of the car and open my door and she did, standing there waiting for her next instruction blankly. This was the crucial part. I tried to summon all the energy I had for this final command, but I had spent it all on The Cardinal in the ER and there was no young lady around to Vamp off of.
"Now take off my handcuffs."
She moved toward me as if she was about to do just that and I had visions of running off into freedom, but I felt the energy sputter and die. She blinked her eyes and shook her head, closed the back door, and resumed driving as if nothing had happened. I had failed. I was so close. "The Mafia" as I now termed these Italian Illuminati had blessed me with a malleable robot and an experience where my full power was realized. They wanted me to use my power to free myself. But I couldn't. I was tapped out. I got so close, but I was tapped out. So back to jail I went.
This was the beginning of my realization/Initiation where I learned there are various factions in the Illuminati, each with their own ideas about things. And all of them wanted me for one reason or another. This was the Mafia Illuminati showing me their hand and giving me a chance to escape before the other factions had a chance to introduce themselves. Johnny and the Nurse were their way of telling me they were OK. Or at least "More OK" than the other Illuminati bastards I would go on to meet. Later Dr. Dee would appear momentarily in Jail to formally show me she was part of the "Vamp" faction.
Crazy? Yeah, I was crazy once.
(*Authors Note: This has been one of the hardest stories for me to get down on paper. Even now, five years later, it is so insane sounding, and there are so few sources I can find to back me up, though I did write letters to all the Police Officers involved, I got no response. Of course. Now I will attempt, yet again, to accurately record what happened to me. Keep in mind that I was hallucinating wildly at the time, having been dosed with an 8-month long lasting Hallucinogen. Also keep in mind that I am an accomplished Psychedelic Warlord and well experienced with a wide range of Hallucinogens. Finally, keep in mind that many of the details could not have been hallucinations, unless I was on some sort of 5-part Hallucinogen like Datura and none of this happened at all. Sadly, there is too much evidence that this is not the case.)
Laying on the floor of my apartment I was trying to get some rest. I had been awake for about a week, my back was killing me, I was clearly hallucinating, someone or someones had been consistently entering my apartment while I was gone and messing with things. They had stolen all of my pain and psych medications, leaving only my Flexeril muscle relaxant. They had stolen many of my accumulated spiritual items of protection (who on earth would want to steal those? Some of them looked like just old rocks!). They had left my two laptops and other valuables that any simple thief would focus on.
The Flexeril did not seem to be working, so I took some more. As I was about to pop another one I noticed that the pill was not the small, flat, yellow pill I usually took. It was, in fact, a larger white pill with the number "777" imprinted on it (Ignore the Occult significance of this number for now). I emptied the bottle, looking for a Flexeril, and found they were all "777" pills. I looked them up online and found them to be Aderrall aka the strongest legal amphetamine on the market. Who would replace all my muscle relaxers with Speed? Speed was valuable! These pills sold for about $20 each on the street at that time. No wonder I had been without sleep and hallucinating, but who would want me to be so spun? Who would invest money and manpower in making me spun?
Before I had long to contemplate this there was a banging on my door. I opened it to find no less than four uniformed SFPD officers, who immediately bulged into my small room, pushing me to the floor and pinning my hands behind my back violently. No talk, no Miranda Rights. Just violence and being dragged to the car. This was the first time I had ever had Police assault me in my own home for no apparent reason, but it would not be the last.
Sadly I have some experience with San Francisco's City Jail at 850 Bryant. My Illuminati father had gone to a huge party that was held there for the wealthy when it had been built. I knew all too well exactly how it worked, or so I thought.
First the suspect goes through "Processing" on the ground floor, which takes anywhere from 1-3 days. Processing is a series of cells you are moved through, each one associated with a different necessary action: Finger Printing, Mug Shot, Medical Triage, OR Consideration, Classification, etc.
After this everyone (as far as my experience and those of fellow criminals knew) went to "F-Pod" for the next 1-3 days, while the court decided whether to pursue your case, where you might get a phone call to arrange bail, etc.
After F-Pod you either went into the Jail Proper, or were released. The design of F-Pod is modern, essentially being two circles on top of each other with a "Control Center" in the middle Where 1-3 Sheriff's Deputies ran everything with a huge Star Wars Style control panel, between the two circular floors. The top circle was small two-person cells with outer Plexiglas window-walls reserved for violent or the worst of the alleged criminals. The bottom, where I had always been, was open four-man rooms, with two bunk-beds.
This is not what happened to me on this occasion.
On this occasion I was informally placed in the "Detox Room" of the ground floor, a large room with toilet, but no chairs, and no phone, the outer wall all Plexiglas as with most of this part of 850 Bryant. I was NOT PROCESSED. Nobody would talk to me. I was not fingerprinted, did not get to speak to the medical staff, nothing. All that happened to me there was that every once in a while a group of about five to seven burly, white, angry Deputies and/or Cops would come in and kick the shit out of me, for no apparent reason. Though they were all laughing about it and I kept hearing them joke about how "This guy is going straight to the Top Floor!" I had no idea what that was or what it meant or even how these guys could be so happy to beat up a helpless citizen who didn't even fight back.
After about three days (by my clock-less estimate and by watching the other citizens being processed through my window/wall) some of the white guys came back and I was terrified of them by that point, of course, expecting another beating. But among them was a small Latino Officer named "Vigil." At that point I had no trust for white men and I pleaded with Officer Vigil, mostly with my eyes, to somehow help me. The group decided that Vigil and two other white officers would escort me to the "Top Floor."
Inside the all-metal elevator Officer Vigil told me to "kneel down facing the corner" and of course I did. As soon as I was in position he slammed my head into the metal corner, cutting open my eyebrow and causing blood to flow down my face. At the time I knew this was an act of mercy. The white guys kinda shrugged.
(*Intermission: A lot of stuff happened here that will be chronicled later. For now I just want to get down the SFPD/SFGH "Vampiric Psychic Surgery" Incident, so I will be skipping some things...)
I was in an isolation cell with my head bleeding, having never made it to the "Top Floor," thanks to Officer Vigil. My back (which has herniated discs, rheumatoid arthritis, and degenerative disc disease) was killing me, I was beat up, disoriented, had not been fed in recent memory, and was apparently under Illegal Rendition. 850 Bryant was not working at all like I knew it should.
It was late at night, I could tell by the skeleton night crew of Officers, when my cell was opened by Officer Cole. Cole was a drop-dead gorgeous African-American Officer, I had never seen a Police Officer so beautiful. She had full lips, a perfect body, and she simply glowed with a good-will and inner peace that I did not associate with Police. She kindly cuffed me, not too tightly, and led me to the Police Car. I thought I was being set free, for the first of many, many, false times.
As I got into the back of the Police car I noticed that it was the crappiest Police Car I had ever been in. More than crappy, though, it seemed to have been victim of intentional sabotage. There was no standard Police computer or camera, though all Official SFPD Cars had them, and even the spot where the radio would have been was just a large hole with wires sticking out. What was going on? Was I being secretly transported?
When we got to San Francisco General Hospital I was somewhat relieved. It seemed Cole genuinely liked me and she was very sweet. She said I would get taken care of.
I also have plenty of experience with SFGH, both the Psych Ward (PES) as well as the ER. Cole escorted me through a maze of corridors I had never been in before, leading me past all nurses, past Triage, to a room near the back of the Hospital. When we got where we were going it appeared, like the car, to be the crappiest room in SFGH, partly under construction. The first thing I noticed was the spot on the ceiling that usually had a Camera was just a hole with wires sticking out, just like the Cop Car, like someone had just ripped the thing out.
The ER room was small, with only two beds separated by a Curtain. Cole had me lay on a bed and cuffed me "4-point," which means I was on my back with one arm on each side handcuffed to the bed and both my legs spread-eagle, also cuffed. My back killing me and blood running down over my eye. There was a curtain to my left and on the other side of it was a very large (fat), old, man who was unconscious and apparently dying for some reason. He must have been somebody important because everybody was paying attention to him constantly. I heard him referred to as "The Cardinal." He had his own Police Officer, a large (sumo large) Chinese Cop named "Fox." Fox was not like Cole, and contrasting the two made me wonder if Cole was some kind of Robot or Android, because clearly Fox was a human. Though she mostly ignored me, I felt no malice from her, and her "Earthy" energy would later help me accomplish what they had brought me there to accomplish.
The Cardinal also had his own private Nurse, a gorgeous young Italian Woman, a private security Guard with long white hair who was packing a long-nosed revolver, who I nick-named "Johnny." Then there was four to six Italian women to his left, apparently all praying for him.
While his EKG was beeping and various Doctors and Nurses were attempting to save him, I was being totally ignored. The only people who seemed to even know I was alive was Cole, Fox, The Italian Nurse I was in Love with, and Johnny. I was charming the pants off of Cole, but still getting no medical attention, and I was in a lot of pain, so at some point I insulted her. This insult immediately turned her into my enemy and I sorely regretted it. Apparently robots do not have the capacity to forgive. The Italian Nurse gave me some water and later when I had to pee Johnny told Cole to uncuff me AND SHE DID! Since when do the Cops obey orders from Private Security? After I was done pissing in the jug Johnny preempted Cole and insisted kindly on using his own pair of cuffs which were padded with yellow rubber and thus much more comfortable. He winked at me and said something about how when this was all over he would make sure I get some painkillers and coffee.
It was not "over" for about 15 hours. All that time, me just in blinding pain from 4-point, blood flowing down my face. All I needed was a few simple stitches, but I was universally ignored. Because I had nothing better to do and I had shut down Cole and everyone else was too busy with The Cardinal to pay any attention to me, I began to "work with energy."
I suppose this needs some explanation. I began studying meditation and Chakras and Tantra (or "Psychic Energy Manipulation") quite young and though I was pretty rusty and out of practice, what else was there to do?
Two "Doctors" seemed to be "Administrating" the "Psychic" activity surrounding The Cardinal. The first one I had met on my first visit to SFGH Psych Emergency Services (PES) and saw again in some empty "F-Pod Clone" at 850 Bryant later. She was a youngish woman with badly bleached hair who called herself "Dee."
The second was a middle-aged "Doctor" also with bleached hair who looked nothing like a Doctor to me. He looked like a ratty surfing beach bum. I seemed to overhear that he had been flown in just for the operation (and that if I played my cards right I might end up like him, working on contract, making tons of money administrating "Psychic" healings around the world for the Illuminati, apparently with kidnapped Psychics like myself as the "Batteries."). Surfer and Dee would pass through the room from time to time, rearranging things or personal, but they never stayed too long, as if they were conscious of the Psychic aspect of everything and did not want to get caught in it.
I began to "breath in" (literally breath = Prana = Energy) energy from each of the people in the room, rather like a crazy wine-tasting. It turned out the energy that I "stole" from each person had different qualities. Apparently the most powerful, for me, was the energy that came from attractive young women like Cole, Italian Nurse, and several of The Cardinals Family Members in the Galley.
But what could I do with this energy, being tied down as I was? Remembering my lessons I tried to ground myself and I found two ways. I could either grab the metal rail of my stretcher with both hands, or I could "exhale" the energy into Officer "Sumo" Fox (who seemed to be there just to serve this exact purpose).
When the "Administrator Vampires" noticed what was happening they rearranged the people in the room, removing some of the older women and men from the gallery and making sure there was a fresh flow of young attractive Nurses passing through the room, for me to "feed on." I really had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it, but it was the only thing I had to do, so I kept experimenting.
The most interesting part bar far was when The Cardinals EKG flat-lined. I grounded my right hand on the metal rail and pointed my left toward him. I breathed in the Energy of a young woman and Exhaled it through my left hand toward The Cardinal and he came back to life. For the next few moments his EKG was beeping in perfect synchronous with my breathing of energy into him. Just for curiosity I leg go of the rail, un-grounding myself, and his EKG instantly responded, so I re-grounded and brought him back to life again.
After he had been stable for a while the room calmed down. Apparently this was exactly why I was here. I had been identified by Dr. Dee as a usable resource by some sort of Illuminati Vampire Group that knew how to force "people like me" to their own ends. I had never even imagined in my craziest LSD Psychotic breaks that something like this could exist. Exist INSIDE the Police and even the Hospital. Cameras ripped out and all.
With all this craziness came the consciousness not only of my own potential power, but also that some people were apparently "robots," whatever that meant. Made by Aliens? Made by God? Made by humans? How or why I still do not know, but that is how it appeared at the time and I would continue to meet "robots" for the next year. Cole was my first and I had broke her with one unkind word.
Eventually I picked one of the Surgeons who I could tell was a robot and I said to him "You are my surgeon. Stitch my eyebrow." Like the perfect robot he was, he immediately followed my command backed up by power and I finally got my eyebrow stitched up, though without any anesthetic.
The morning had come, The Cardinal had stabilized, and my role in the Vampiric Psychic Surgery was done. Johnny told me my drugs and breakfast and coffee were coming soon.
One of the family members gave Fox a white envelope I could tell was filled with cash. The family was led out of the room and Johnny took back his yellow cuffs so that Fox could retake possession of me. She took me out to he car and forced me into the backseat which was soaking wet with cold spilled coffee. That was my reward.
As she was driving me back I knew that she was a robot and that I had power over robots, if only I summoned it. She was, in my mind at that time, a gift from the "Mafia" and had I not made a negative impact on her I would have been better off. I summoned the last of my Psychic Energy and told her to pull over the car. We all know that there is no way a Cop is going to pull over the car just because you tell them to. But she did, immediately. I told her to get out of the car and open my door and she did, standing there waiting for her next instruction blankly. This was the crucial part. I tried to summon all the energy I had for this final command, but I had spent it all on The Cardinal in the ER and there was no young lady around to Vamp off of.
"Now take off my handcuffs."
She moved toward me as if she was about to do just that and I had visions of running off into freedom, but I felt the energy sputter and die. She blinked her eyes and shook her head, closed the back door, and resumed driving as if nothing had happened. I had failed. I was so close. "The Mafia" as I now termed these Italian Illuminati had blessed me with a malleable robot and an experience where my full power was realized. They wanted me to use my power to free myself. But I couldn't. I was tapped out. I got so close, but I was tapped out. So back to jail I went.
This was the beginning of my realization/Initiation where I learned there are various factions in the Illuminati, each with their own ideas about things. And all of them wanted me for one reason or another. This was the Mafia Illuminati showing me their hand and giving me a chance to escape before the other factions had a chance to introduce themselves. Johnny and the Nurse were their way of telling me they were OK. Or at least "More OK" than the other Illuminati bastards I would go on to meet. Later Dr. Dee would appear momentarily in Jail to formally show me she was part of the "Vamp" faction.
Crazy? Yeah, I was crazy once.
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Aye, I dare ya!