Traducer is one of the keepers, not a resident. Many come and go afflicted with the woes and scars of the ghost of war. Some of the patients minus well have their brains leaking out of their ears, others are well on their way a recovery. Traducer is patrolling the halls when he hears low moans coming from the newest patient's accommodations. He approaches Cell No. 7 and sees a grotesquely scarred middle age man with beard starring into space muttering half-words; he looks catatonic. "What the fuck...?" thinks Traducer. He leans to listen in catching only fragments "Master Control Cons...General Ow...Eyes...undernea...past the swamps....the Bee hives underground, Bee hives, BEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!" he screams. The look of terror swells in the pitch of his face. He whole body convulsing. "Quick, we need Thorazine and Respidol stat." Traducer yells to the Assistant nurse down the hall.
They restrain him together while an additional medic violently thrust the injection into the patients right leg. They hold him another moment until The patient is subdued.
Mad Bob is sitting at a table watching the scene with wild look in eyes. "Like drinking acid from God's mouth..." he says in regards to the tranqs, his head going limp and bobbing, lost in swirls of fractal color. Traducer looks over at him - "So those Meds working out for you then Bobby?" he ask. "Don't worry 'bout me - That guys knows what they do Under the Medina. He's gonna need some serious fucking attention." Bob shuffles down the hall and disappears from sight. Traducer tries not to pay any mind to the gibberish ramblings he hears around here.