"You know I know the woman you wish you knew." It was a funeral service being held for the recently departed. Family to someone lost in Fukuoka eventually the pain of loss had been just to much. Comfort could not be found and in grief a young man passed away. Cause of death didn't interest the broken minded doctor however. She wasn't even really here for this individual but to oversee the side effects of something much bigger in scale. A woman had been bewitched and led to uncover who she really was. And following which many had died in the afterglow of such a discovery. A event beautiful in the level of chaos and eventually countered by the white blood cells of society. The costumed and caped men and women who looked to resolve the issues of man.

"Who the hell are you?" They began to ask the troubled aqua haired doctor.

Eyes drifted off a bit considering how best to answer such an inquiry. "I'm to be her doctor a woman did things but isn't at peace with them either." So many would say the woman was wrong or bad if they knew. That a demon like her was as welcome to society as the half dressed damaged mind of a doctor was at a funeral. "They don't understand what a cure is though you know? They'll say it's trauma, PTSD mayhaps even. That's downplaying the issue though I think." The room had a feeling like many wanted or would have been much more aggressive about the woman within the funeral home. The air smelled of narcotics though and eyes were dilating most wanting to be as high as the heavens themselves.

"It's not about making her conform to your standards of society." The guy she'd been speaking to family of the fallen fell over drooling and breath running short. "Okay to your standards" she commented looking at another individual in grief "not sure how many he has. Point is they'll say the monster is bad that my patient is a problem. I find though I should let her instead be. If what she was is truly who she is then I shouldn't let her be who she was." A rather tongue twisted explanation of things but somewhere within was the central point. That if the oni was the woman in actuality then doctor Tera Zulua often called Zulu for short thought she should make the oni be the woman that stepped back into the world or got locked up. Similarly if the patient was best at finding the line between or returning to normal, then those were what the deranged should look to make a reality. It wasn't about being free or in prison, about being woman or oni just becoming whoever was seemingly right for the patient.

Azylum Asylum

Zulu would return to her home away from home. Usually she was within Justice City helping with the process of creating the police force. A doctor doing all she could to help them reach their potentials and do as much for the city. Measures used might have been questionable it got results though. It'd also helped to keep Zulu from doing to much problematic adventures out in the regular world. With her regular job she also in time got to bringing the asylum back into being a functional haven of insanity.

Walls polished and clean and well painted, or at least usually they were. Some of the lower levels were still grungy and foul, not to mention some places were just still under maintenance. For the most part it was a rather empty residence, within a few windows though one could see the silhouettes of the few inmates. Those who were recovering those lost and those who found comfort in trying to fuse scalp with glass.

Letters said the most interesting of subjects was not to keen on the idea of coming to visit. Zulu wondered why. Mayhaps it was fear, of being analyzed and studied? Mayhaps it was to see reflection for what it was, that the face in the mirror was scarier then the one from a particular event? Mayhaps it was just concern for ones fitness, the institute was not exactly out fitted for maintaining a strict diet or work out routine. Used to but then an inmate got a little to creative with the weights and the paperwork had been a frustrating gesture to go through. Or mayhaps the fear was in just not having a hair game as on point as Zulu's. After all blue was such a cooler color then blond right?

There was a letter sent to UNKD and then sent to her. They expected help and her history supported the idea Zulu was there to in fact provide for the traumatized and ill. It was just that her end results were not documented in their intentions of being more true to self then a remedy by social standards. The letter was addressed to whom it may concerned, and whom was concerned was the doctor sitting in front of the asylum gate. A funny last name the cobalt haired doctor thought as she read about the aftereffects being experienced. A place that wasn't a hospital was needed to heal and Zulu had been fortunate to be thought of as right for the job. The psychiatrist was said to likely visit often, that was conceding on some levels the doctor felt. Zulu wouldn't debate it she did however think his idea of what was the right way of handling things might conflict with the doctor's own. They said the patient would need to be detained as well which was perplexing. On some level sure got to look after the ill, to come back really the doctor felt the patient needed levels of freedom. To find if the questionable was true to them, for if that was the case it was what she thought right to let them be. Sincerely the letter was from another silly name not as anonymous as the moniker played on or perhaps rather questionable given that moniker.

For now though the cobalt haired doctor would just sit at the gate savoring a fruit cup as she waited for the newest patient of hers. Fashionable jacket and restraints optional in the doctor's eyes. Frustratingly to the doctor she found the particular fruit cup was predominantly of peaches, it would seem some of her inmates had been involved in a particular exchange. One that included a use of kevlar to deal with savants of the knife variety and snipers. The captors being fond of peaches led to inmates being against such a treat. She found herself wondering if the new arrival would be willing to have such fruit cups sparing the doctor of the limited selection a tad.