Asylum
Disclaimer: own nothing.
ΧΧΧ
"This is bullshit! Utter and complete bullshit!"
"Doctor Loomis, please! That language is not necessary."
Dr. Samuel Loomis stared at his immediate superiors, three men dressed in suits that looks like carbon copies of each other, and resisted the urge to gag on the sheer levels of bullshit that was coming from them.
"I am a children's psychologist," Loomis reminded them, "My specialty is with children, not with men who are already cold-blooded killers!"
"Dr. Loomis, while we are aware of your chosen specialty, you must remember that you are an employee of Smith's Grove Sanitarium," one of the suits said to him in a superior manner, "Now, ordinarily, we would have nothing but respect for your chosen specialty. However, Smith's Grove has fallen on hard financial times. As a result, we've had to begin laying off our employees. Now, several of our staff have taken on more patients, but you are our only children's psychologist on staff. As it is, however, since there is only one child currently within our walls, this makes you…less than important in the eyes of the budget."
"Are you threatening to fire me if I don't do this," Loomis was speechless.
"I'm simply stating the facts," one of the suits said, "If you look more needed in the eyes of the accountants, the safer your position on this staff remains."
Samuel Loomis stared at them in shock, but there was a reason why he was a doctor…he was not a dumbass. Seemingly shrinking into himself, Loomis decided to resign himself to his fate.
"Which patient should I take on," he asked.
Two files were passed onto him.
"Pick one," a suit said, "Dr. Silberman has graciously said he will take on the one you do not select."
Loomis sighed and opened one of the files. After reading the summary of each of them, Loomis decided that he would choose Patient 147-B.
ΧΧΧ
He was chained when he came in. Dressed in a long hospital gown, the young man wore an eye patch and was sporting a large scar along the side of his face. He had a large amount of facial hair, and appeared to be indifferent about the fact that he was there. The guards sat him down at the table in front of Loomis, and released him from his bonds.
"Leave us," Loomis instructed.
The guards left with little concern, knowing that they could arrive instantly in order to detain the patient. Loomis, however, felt that the young man knew much more than he was letting on. He watched carefully as the patient's eye followed the guards, focused primarily on his weapon and his keys. Loomis scribbled on his notepad, gaining the young man's attention.
"Good morning," Loomis looked down at his file as he turned on the tape recorder, "Mr. Harris. How are you feeling today?"
The young man stared at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Loomis fought his instinct to stiffen underneath his gaze, forcing himself to remain calm and relaxed as his training taught him. The young man was judging him, assessing him as he sat there. Obviously, this patient was much more aware than the files had indicated. That was both good and bad, as it could be a major source of aid in breaking him out of his delusions…but bad as it was most likely that the young man was planning an escape.
Finally, the patient seemed to nod slightly to himself, then he leaned back and relaxed in his seat, lifting up his hands as he did so.
"I can't do that, Mr. Harris," Loomis told him.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. He seemed to think for a moment, before licking his lips.
"Can I bum a cig," he inquired.
Loomis nodded, reaching into his breast pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Loomis noted two things in that request: Mr. Harris's voice was one of the most unique he'd ever heard, in that he had a unique accent that seemed to be influenced by African culture, as Loomis himself had spent some time in Africa he knew the dialects fairly well. The other thing he noticed was that Mr. Harris was playing mind games of his own. By requesting to smoke, he was testing just how cooperative (or malleable) Loomis would be to him. Loomis discerned two things in that moment: that Mr. Harris had traveled the world at some point in his short life, and that he was cunning…far more cunning than most of the patients he'd encountered in the past.
"You know these things will kill you, Mr. Harris," Loomis said, seemingly casual, "Or would you mind letting me call you Alex?"
The young man stared at him for a long moment, pursing his lips as he looked at him. Loomis smiled on the inside, knowing that the young man recognized now that he was playing with someone who could play as well.
"…No," the patient said with a grin, "But you can call me Xander."
"Alright, Xander," Loomis said, handing over his cigarettes and lighter as he did so, "My name is Dr. Samuel Loomis."
"How ya doin' today, Loomy," Xander asked with a slight grin as he lit up.
"That's Dr. Loomis," Loomis corrected automatically, realizing the second that he'd done so he'd made a mistake as he saw the young man's grin widen.
"Whatever you say, Loomy," Xander said, blowing some smoke up into the air.
Loomis sighed, but decided to continue.
"Mr. Harris, do you know why you've been brought here," Loomis inquired.
The young man seemed to sadden at that, and he made no effort to hide it. Loomis recognized the genuine grief that he had over causing the young girl's death and saw it as his best chance to help the young man come out of this madness that he'd created for himself.
"I am…sorry for her death," Xander said, looking nothing short of distraught as he did so, "I didn't mean to…"
"Why did you do it, Xander," Loomis asked, wanting to know exactly what was inside the young man's head.
Xander sighed to himself, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he did so.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xander said.
ΧΧΧ
Dr. Peter Silberman sat down at the table, opening up the file to patient 542-E. He ignored the pictures which he had seen close to twenty times already, instead focusing on the personal information the file contained. This man was quite the piece of work: seven people found dead, each of them dismembered. The most confusing thing that they'd included in the file was that each person had a varying level of decay, with several appearing to be over a week old. This led authorities to inquire whether or not there'd been a second killer, as confirmed reports account for the patient being at work and in his classes during that time.
As the doors opened and the guards pulled him inside, Silberman noted that the man seemed to be afraid of his situation, but also that he appeared to be nothing short of pissed off to be in it.
He struggled with the guards for a moment, clearly trying to break free of them. One of the guards hit him in his stump, causing the patient to scream in pain, even as they dragged him over to the seat and sat him down. They chained him up quickly, then stood back and took their positions behind him.
"…Good morning, Mr. Williams," Silberman greeted him as he turned on the tape recorder.
"Yeah, hi," the patient said, gasping as he did so, "Listen, couldya do me a favor and get heckle and jeckle off my back? I don't like having assholes staring over me while I tell you my deepest and darkest, y'know."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Williams," Silberman told him, "You've been deemed a danger to yourself and others."
"Listen, if I promise to behave, will you get them outta here, and maybe, I dunno, take me out of these goddamned shackles," the patient growled.
"In time, you may earn the right to be released and be unsupervised," Silberman said, while really it wasn't necessary for this patient to be kept underneath constant guard, Silberman felt it was best for his own safety to ensure that he was.
The patient sighed to himself, resigning himself as he did so.
"Alright, you wanna talk," the patient asked, "Let's talk."
"Very well," Silberman said, "Let's start off with introductions. My name is Dr. Peter Silberman."
"My name is Ashley J. Williams," the patient said with a smile, "And even with a girl's name, I'm manlier than you."
"There's no reason for insults, Mr. Williams," Silberman said.
"…Call me Ash," the patient said, offering his hand.
Silberman reached out and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. He made to remove his hand, but Ash held tight, squeezing with a considerable amount more strength than Silberman could ever muster. Silberman groaned out in pain, causing the two guards to come forward, preparing to take Mr. Williams out if necessary.
"That," Ash said with a grin, "Was just to let you know."
Ash let go of Silberman's hand, and the doctor reeled backward, shaking his hand loose to calm the pain. The guards stood down at that, but remained alert in case Mr. Williams decided to do something again.
"…To let me know what," Silberman asked in exasperation.
"That you don't fuck with me," Ash said with a grin, "Ever."
Silberman stared at him for a long moment, calming himself down, then said "So what should I do with you?"
"…Hail to the King, baby," Ash said with a smirk.
ΧΧΧ
"Hello, hello," Dr. Loomis said into the tape recorder, "Why don't you go on and say your name?"
"Hi, my name is Michael Myers…"
ΧΧΧ
Dr. Silberman sighed as he shook his hand again. It was fairly bruised from Ash's grip, and he was fairly certain based on previous events that he would be bruised by his next patient's actions, if not today, then eventually.
The door opened, and the guards walked in a woman dressed in a hospital gown. Unlike most patients at Smith's Grove, she was not normally chained up. This was because she was more dangerous with chains than without.
The guards sat her down in her chair, and she stared at him with a frown on her face.
"Good afternoon, Sarah," Silberman greeted his patient.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Silberman," Sarah Connor returned with a menacing monotone, "How are you today?"
"Good, Sarah," Silberman said, used to her normally hostile attitude towards him, "And you?"
She laughed, a thoroughly unpleasant sound, and said "I'm separated from my son, trapped in this Hellhole you call a hospital. How would you feel?"
"Caged, suppressed, oppressed," Silberman responded with a scoffing smile, "You need to understand something, Sarah…we're not your enemy. We're not those machines, those 'Terminators' that you've envisioned-"
"I didn't 'envision' it," Sarah reiterated, obviously very angered by his dismissal of her opinions, "It was real."
"No, Sarah, it wasn't," Silberman stated, using the more direct approach that he had begun before her transfer, "Think about it. You claim that you saw a man from the future, slept with him, all while on the run from a 'robot from the future' that was sent to kill you to ensure your son wasn't born. And you crushed him with a hydraulic press. Now, think Sarah…if this was all true, wouldn't there be some evidence of it?"
"Cyberdyne took the Terminator, I told you," Sarah pressed, "That's why there are no parts left over! And how do you explain the Terminator's attack on the police station?!"
"I think the man responsible for that attack was a highly trained psychopath, and he was after your friend for reasons other than you," Silberman calmly explained, "This man, this…" he flipped open his file, "'Kyle Reese' was delusional. I believe he captured you and brainwashed you, Sarah. I believe you're suffering from a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and paranoid delusions brought on by what this man did to you."
Sarah stared at him for a long moment, and Silberman stared right back. He knew that she would respond, probably violently, but he refused to show fear to her.
Suddenly, she moved and struck him in the face, sending him reeling to the floor. She was on top of him, about to knock him out with her punches, when the guards captured her and dragged her away from him.
"YOU BASTARD," Sarah screamed, "YOU EVER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT KYLE AGAIN AND I WILL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!"
Silberman sat on the floor for a moment, wiping the blood away from his lip. Sighing to himself, he came to his feet as he listened to Sarah screaming. He walked up to the desk and leaned on it as he took out a cloth to clean himself. He noticed that the recorder was still working.
He chuckled and said, "Crazy bitch."