Well, this is the first part of another series I'm doing within the same time line as my other stories. It also includes references to my girlfriend's character, Sydney, Drakken and Shego's daughter. It was partially inspired by Poe, Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson, and David Lynch (specifically his series "Rabbits"). Please read and review. You'll also get 1000 points of awesome if you translate the Gaelic and tell me where it's from.

…….

Shego heard something behind the wall. It was some scratchy noise. Was it a rat, a cat, or a bat? Did it matter? Either way, she knew it was there, and she didn't like it in the least. She wished the doctors would take it away.

Where was Drakken?

There was a telephone on the table across from her bed in the white room. Or was there a telephone at all? Either way, she reached for it, but the phone moved to the floor. Was this phone really there, or was it a telephone of her mind's creation? She reached down to grab it, but the phone moved to the door.

Tricky ringer.

Finally, the object stopped teasing her and allowed her to pick it up.

There was a voice on the other end. It was Drakken's mother.

"Happy birthday to you," it sang, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Drewbie. Happy birthday to you."

Shego then realized, as the phone decided it was going to go on vacation and disappear from the room, that today would have been Drakken's birthday.

……

It was Robert Akerman's first day on the job. He had a large amount of training from EMT to the time he worked in the police force, and now he was working as an orderly for Arkham Asylum in Massachusetts. Because of his history with the criminally insane and his background interest in medicine, as his dad was a doctor, it was only the logical option to finally take that next step and try to combine the two into one career. He would be there to help the doctor wherever he could in keeping the patients in line and in helping the patients in getting in and out of the wheelchairs and, unfortunately, in many cases, their diapers.

He was putting his coat up in the locker room when the doctor he would be walking with that day walked in, this being Dr. Akande. The man looked similar to what Robert had expected, wearing a lab coat, glasses, and bearing some resemblance to Morgan Freeman.

"Mr. Akerman, I presume?" the doctor asked rhetorically.

"Yes, hi," Robert said excitedly, holding his hand out for the doctor to shake.

"Do you feel ready for your first day?" the doctor said, shaking his hand with less enthusiasm, not because he was trying to be rude but rather because he knew what might become of this orderly, ready to be broken in by this place.

"Oh, certainly," Robert said, "this has always been something I had wanted to do for a long time."

"And what made you want to come here?" Dr. Akande asked.

"Well, I've heard it's one of the best asylums in the country," Robert said, "and because it has such a great history in the state."

"But do you know why we're one of the best?" Dr. Akande asked, looking him in the eye.

"Well, you handle some of the hardest cases," replied Robert.

"And with the recent epidemic of 2010," Dr. Akande continued, "we're also not dismissing of anyone's thoughts. With so many of the women of today giving many of the same reports on their dreams, it's hard not to give some credibility. Yes, whenever I first started my career, I had to keep a rational mind and hold sense and reason in highest regard. Upon moving here, however, I've had to open my mind to the possibility of something beyond us. Forget what you've heard about Arkham, Mr. Akerman, as this will be one of the strangest hospitals you will have ever visited."

There was strangeness to Dr. Akande's that made Robert feel a chill through his veins. All he could do was nod his head in agreement.

"I understand, sir," Robert said.

"Good," the doctor said, "Now, you'll need to accompany me to see one of our more famous patients, the infamous Shego."

"Oh, yeah," Robert said, surprised that he just now remembered, "You are housing her here, aren't you?"

"She's been quiet for a year about what apparently happened to her in Syria, where she was last found," the doctor proceeded, "We've been trying to follow up with her family members, but none of them have any idea. Given her violent history, we've been trying to take precautions, and although she's been tame since she came here, I still need you to walk with me and possibly deliver a thorazine shot."

"You honestly think," Robert asked, "I could overpower a super terrorist who generates flame from her hands?"

"Given your history in the police force," Dr. Akande said, "I think you'd be used to that sort of thing by now. Come with me. We'll see what she has to say."

The two proceeded down the long, white hall to Shego's room. The intercom played a light version of Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," all the while, Robert heard occasional screams and laughs. To him, it felt so beautiful and yet so uncomfortable, like drowning in the Atlantic after walking into it from the off white sands of Miami Beach.

They finally made it to Shego's room, S-14 reading across the tired, faded plaque on the door, and found her scrunched up on her bed. Her eyes followed the two men as they proceeded into the room, not blinking once, giving Robert yet another chill and not effecting Dr. Akande in the least. She sat still, curled up on her pillow in her white shirt and green and black panties. A fly could be heard buzzing around the room, this being the only noise that could be heard in the stiflingly thin air.

"Good morning, Mrs. Shego," Dr. Akande started to say as he sat in a chair he brought into the room, "I hope you're feeling well enough today. You told me yesterday that you were ready to talk to us, so now we're willing to listen. So please, let us know what's wrong."

There was a long silence that drifted on in the atmosphere like nerve gas. It lasted for five minutes, making Robert very uncomfortable, despite Dr. Akande's calm disposition throughout the time. Shego still was sitting, never blinking or moving, even disregarding the fly that occasionally landed on her face and flew away, staring deep into the men, as if reaching into their souls and examining their chemical makeup. What emotion were her eyes meant to convey: horror, anger, or sadness? Her look was indefinable.

Finally, her lips moved to utter a sound that still made Robert jump.

"The better part of my life," Shego said, "I've only seen the death and destruction our world had to offer. I should have figured it would be the same way towards the end. And to think, our own plans would be our destruction. I guess there really is always a greater power.

"It was a random tomb in Syria. Drakken wanted to harness this ancient power he had studied on for years. Supposedly, it resided in the tomb of Abdul Alhazred. I thought to myself, 'What the hell are an old man's bones going to do for us? Will it give as a possibility for old marrow transplants if we get cancer, because I think we're scraping the bottom of the barrel if that's what we want?' But it was what those bones stood for that he wanted. He saw what all of us could not, the world that dwelt beyond our eyes. My love had a machine that would allow for a merging of the world, its original design by the madman Crawford Tillinghast. It would emit radio waves that distorted perceptions and allowed anyone within a two mile radius to see these creatures from beyond.

"Tillinghast could not control the beasts he unleashed; how could Drakken possibly have thought he could?

She then paused for a moment, and her eyes scanned the room.

"What time is it?" she asked, but the question did not seem to address the two men, so much as it was directed towards the room itself.

"It took us forever," she continued, "to find the coordinates to where the actual tomb was. We had to really dig for people who knew something about ancient culture, and even then, only half of them would actually talk to us, even those who didn't recognize us. The desert was hot, and we were almost out of water, when we finally reached the door; it was only a cleft in the sand.

"We opened the large stone slab to reveal steps that lead down into the abyss that I know now will forever be where my mind dwells. As we proceeded down into the darkness, with me leading the way with a lit energy hand, he began to notice that the interior was a tremendous contrast to the outside. While the desert remained in scorching heat, I could swear that place never left 40 degrees."

She paused again.

"What date did we go down there?" She addressed the room. Robert felt as if the air itself was closing in on him, like being in a clam shell that was starting to close. For some reason, after each pause, he thought he heard the sound of some distant laughter.

"We finally reached the bottom of the stairs," Shego continued, "and found more than just the cobwebs I was expecting. I lit some torches that hung on the wall, illuminating the magical treasure trove. There were artifacts of every element: effigies in clay, priceless jewels, and what looked like a ray gun far more advanced than I had ever seen.

"'We'll pick those up as soon as we leave,' Drakken had said, 'Right now, we need to start the machine and take control of them. Soon, the oldest and most primordial of evil and fear shall be ours, and the world leaders will finally grovel at our feet.' Usually, I could come up with a clever comeback, you know, just to bust his chops and joke around with him, but in there, inside what felt like the heart of death, I couldn't find a response. My mind flew in circles, like a swirling mass of bones and blood put into a meat grinder.

"And then he started the machine."

She paused again.

"What time did he do it?" she asked the room. This time, Robert was certain that he heard the distinct sound of laughter. It seemed to be coming from the walls, floor, and ceiling, as if the room itself were responding.

"The low light from the torches," Shego went on, "seemed to dissipate as the hum of Drakken's little box echoed through the halls. Soon in that darkness, a new light began to form, that of what looked like starlight. The room was covered in it.

"'Yes,' Drakken screamed, 'Tillinghast's theory was correct. The radio and microwaves really can allow for the crossing over of our worlds.' He laughed that evil laugh I had come to love for the last time, for the next sounds I heard were this hissing and growling of things no mind could comprehend. My brain churned, and the world began to blur.

"What I remember after that was wandering through the desert, not thinking about water but only to not think of the events that had transpired in that tomb of nightmares. A tourist convoy picked me up, but I never said a word to them. How could I after what had happened there? Sometime after that, all the way up to now, I have thought about these things, the events of my love's death, and remember the fragments that I refused to put in my mind's eye.

"The beasts that came from these stars surrounded us, their forms of a gelatinous, shapeless nature. They flew at Drakken from every angle and began lifting him in the air upon their various tendrils. Some of the beasts said things that sounded like words, but in a language I'd never heard. I would only learn in later studies that it was Gaelic. So strange to hear a language not from the region of the world we were in and different from the language we had to learn before going into it, the familiar, safe Arabic."

She paused yet again.

"From where and what time did these monsters come from?" She said, and the room laughed again. The room began to grow dark, and Robert thought he also heard thunder from outside, even though it had been a perfectly sunny day prior to him entering the room. Shego finally got up from the bed and did so in such a seamless fashion that seemed to flow in an otherworldly manner, as if disembodied from her seemingly broken state. She then raised her hands and lowered her head, looking like a tormented martyr, and her hands lit in small green flames, giving the only light to the room.

But there was something then in the now dark room that gave Robert a shock, something that resembled a large, pink growth in the upper left corner. In the center was an orifice with teeth, in which case Robert determined it was a mouth.

"'Dia ad aghaid 's ad aodann…agus bas dunach ort! Dhonas 's dholas ort, agus leat-sa!...Ungl…Ungl…rrrlh…chchch…,' were the sounds the beasts made before the event that tore my mind in two," Shego said, and as she recited the Gaelic, the mouth spoke with her in a booming voice. Robert shut his eyes, wanting to escape the sight before him, and when he unclosed them after ten seconds, the room itself was relit by sunlight, and Shego was sitting back on the bed as she was before, still staring at him.

"With that last sound," Shego continued, beginning to shake, "in one instant, they tore my love to pieces, his body bursting like hospitals packet of blood being hit by a bullet. His limbs and organs flew into the darkness and vanished. Except for one part…the top of his head flew near me…Oh, Lord…his eyes…my love's eyes…looking back into mine, showing just as much horror as my own."

She was beginning to cry, her eyes finally blinking to filter the tears.

"I will never," she went on, "share the fate of Drakken with my daughter…our daughter…she must never know the terror that her father endured in his last moment of life in this world. The Old Ones must never take her the way they took him and the way they are slowly taking me."

She then turned her face to the wall and fell silent. The fly from earlier had vanished as well, and Robert then imagined the mouth in the wall had eaten it.

"Alright, Mrs. Shego," Dr. Akande said, getting up from his chair and putting his notes away, "I thank you very much for sharing this with us today. I'll come by to visit you and bring you with me to the lunch room. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Shego whimpered, "I would."

"Good," the doctor said, "Well, we will see you later then." With that, he proceeded out of the room, and Robert nervously followed him.

"Did…did you see all that?" Robert asked, stuttering and flabbergasted at what he saw. "What the hell was all of that?"

"Well," Dr. Akande said, "that is what you will experience in dealing with the insane. You've dealt with them before, have you not?"

"Yeah," Robert said, "but not with…well, whatever that was with the room changing and laughing." The doctor raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head.

"Listen," Dr. Akande said, "I was trying to warn you in the locker room earlier. Don't let this place get to you. You might see some strange things here or there in this place, but none of these visions are real or dangerous, I assure you."

"What could be the cause?" Robert asked.

"Well, there are rational explanations and irrational ones," the doctor said, "ranging from underground gases to patients mentally projecting their thoughts into another's mind. Either way, these reports sound similar to what I thought I'd hear."
"How so?" Robert asked.

"Well," Dr. Akande continued, "all these other women who have apparently acquired psychic talent since the famous Membrane Girl of 2010 have been muttering things about these Great Old Ones, which, apparently, other patients have spoken of throughout the history of this asylum. There has to be some connection. One of the major things about her story that doesn't hold water, aside from, well, everything, is the fact about Drakken."

"What is that?" Robert asked curiously, wondering why the doctor was still talking to him about this in the first place.

"Because Drakken is apparently still alive," Dr. Akande said, "Some of our sources have said they've seen him in Europe and also in South America."