[center][h2]Professor Jeremiah Dupree[/h2]
Physical state: Healthy
Mental state: Sane (?)[/center]

For Professor Dupree, the spring semester was meant to be an exciting one. It was impossible to miss the pattern of the increasing cases of insanity over the winter - he had followed the newspapers meticulously, at first dismissing the case as mere lunacy until three more were committed over the course of a month. Jeremiah dug into his aged piles of newspapers and peeled apart the yellowing and dampening pages - it was not his imagination. He flipped back to the first case of the winter and clipped the mention. The articles, six in all, were pinned to a plain wall in his home alongside the other articles describing the peculiarities of Arkham that seemed to go missed. There was never any point to discussing them anymore, he'd found, not when he tried inquiring the professor of psychology as to what his field had to say about Arkham. The man had accused him of being addled himself! What did he know and understand of people, when his field reduced the vastness of human history and culture down to the most debased impulses! The man had the audacity to pass such teachings along to the students. Professor Dupree limited his contact with the man after that.

The presence of the pattern was not diminished by one man's closed mind, and Professor Dupree did his best to obtain what public records he could of the freshly committed men and women. When the sanitarium offered to open its gates for educational purposes, Professor Dupree was nothing short of ecstatic. Here he was, puzzling out how this most recent piece fit into the bigger mystery of Arkham - of the world - that others seemed to deny - and he might have the chance to personally speak to these people. He almost threw up. He did throw up. He determined it was from excitement. His first class of the semester had a buzz to it as he did confirm, yes, he would be arranging for a trip to the sanitarium for students who did particularly well in his classes. It was shameful to admit it was a ploy largely for his own benefit, but many of the students seemed curious and genuinely fascinated at meeting the mentally disturbed.

The weather was cold, and Professor Dupree, a briefcase full of handwritten analyses on the influences of Anglo-Saxon culture on its empire, had been returning to his office to begin the process of grading. That had been the plan, and nothing would disturb his good mood, not until he began reading, he had promised himself.

His route had taken him past the campus' tallest building, a monument dedicated to human knowledge.

It was impossible to miss the crowd near the base of the building, or the ranting voice whose words were lost to the distance.

It was impossible to avoid flinching when the body collided with the sidewalk.

Professor Dupree stood, stunned, staring at the small puffs of air that escaped the body even as the splattered brain tumbled from its shattered skull. It was a scream that returned him to his senses - just barely. Yes. There were students among this crowd, weren't there? Even if he had not been able to tell who the man was, nor was able to identify his deformed features now, this was not a spectacle for the students to see. He rushed forward, pushing his way through the horrified onlookers. His thick winter coat added some to his bulk, but he could now keep the gruesome sight entirely from the crowd.

"The doctor! Someone call for the doctor!" The words left his mouth as he set his briefcase to the side of the smashed skull, the puddling and steaming blood soaking into the leather. When he had fully regained his senses and the situation was resolved, and he found that the blood would not come out, he would discard the item. For now, though, his mind was focused on other matters.