There is something in the asylum.
Andrew’s curiosity had been restless in the weeks that followed his conversation with Hannah. Weirder still, the strange dreams seemed to stop, or at least he forgot about them as soon as he woke up. In either case, it was as nerve racking as having a nail hidden underneath his skin.
But maybe he could finally be relieved of that pain.
CDR-4 was emergency called back to the station for another mission. Since CDR-3 was busy with a mission downtown—something about a runaway demon wreaking havoc—someone needed to handle an incident reported at the New Changan Mental Institute.
Without a word, the team calmly stowed themselves inside the van. Gutierrez drove, the Sergeant sat shotgun, and the rest of the team sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the back. Andrew looked around; they were either hungover, exhausted, or both.
Smith was probably the worst-looking out of all of them. Even from here, Andrew could smell the alcohol in his breath. Add some eyebags and a couple deep sighs, and that was the sorry sight of Smith.
“You know…” the sad man groaned, “I really loved her…”
He seemed to be saying it for anyone who would listen, though it was hard to find anyone fully conscious. Singh had her hands in her uniform pockets and her head leaned back on the seat. By the way her closed eyelids moved, she was out cold.
“Dating is always a bad idea,” Kang said. He was reading up on some politics on his phone. Something about the New Changan mayoral primary, or however the politics worked on this artificial city. “Modern generations can hardly differentiate between a lifelong courtship and a nightly fling.”
Yeah, Kang wasn’t very good at comforting people. Smith groaned as he cupped his face with his hands. “Jesus Kang, how in the fucking hell do you keep talking like that…” he chuckled through. “Guti’ was right. You really do sound like Confucius.”
Singh tossed in her sleep, kicking her legs like a cow’s tail swatting a fly. “Shut up… both of you… too early for this shit…”
“Oh, fuck off!” Smith snarled. He didn’t seem to be mad about the whole made out with his ex by accident thing, probably since it really wasn’t her fault. He seemed more pissed about her general drowsiness. “The hell do you have to be sleepy about?”
She tossed again. Then, with her slow-moving hand, she pointed to her lips. “Met up with some fine girl, took her to my place, and we had a good night. Until CDR decided to be a buzzkill again.”
The car was quiet with strange reverence. Even Gutierrez gave an impressed whistle. “Damn, lil’ chica. I didn’t know you had game like that. Even in my prime, I wasn’t moving like that.”
“Your prime?” Andrew scoffed. For a moment, he forgot all about the asylum, or what it could entail. His mind was more focused on how some grown-married-motherfucker could’ve been a playboy. “Lemme guess, were you the fastest kid in elementary school?”
Everyone snickered. Even the Sergeant’s smile could be seen from the rearview mirror. “Congratulations,” she said with a light grin. “You’re starting to sound like a real Demon Buster: a foul-mouthed fool who somehow gets the job done.”
When the laughter slowly died down a little, Gutierrez suddenly turned the car hard, almost to personally jerk Andrew around. “As I was saying, before el chino decided to interrupt me, I was quite the looker when I was in the army. Since it was all postwar and shit, I didn’t have anything to do but drive to town when my shift was done.”
“Lemme guess,” Singh chimed with her eyes still shut, “you almost married a stripper?”
“Close. I married my wife,” Gutierrez said with his gapped smile.
***
The New Changan Mental Institute was a whole lot bigger than Andrew expected. Located on the eastern outskirts of town, where they were still making more surface platforms for the growth of New Changan, the place stood like it wasn’t supposed to be there.
Like Andrew wasn’t supposed to be there.
To make matters worse, it started thundering as soon as the van entered the outer fence. Rain suddenly poured onto the window, prompting Gutierrez to hurriedly start the wipers. “Shit, it’s some nasty weather. Forecast said it was supposed to rain tonight though, so I can’t be too surprised.”
Cop cars lined around the building with their overheads looking almost like searchlights in the rain. Unlike the usual incompetence, they had actually made the effort to evacuate wards of patients outside, where ambulances went in and out to evacuate them. Not unwarranted help; just surprising.
CDR-4 donned their APEs without fanfare before approaching the line. Rather than moving out of the way, a group of specially armored guards held the main entrance off. “CDR team. You are not authorized to enter this portion of the facility.”
Sergeant Yang spoke face to face with the head of these special police. They didn’t seem to wear the same uniform as the rest of the cops, let alone adhere to the same chain of command. Rather than wearing the usual black and blue, they stuck to all black kevlar and flak.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear anything from command,” Sergeant Yang stated. “All we know is that there are demons somewhere inside, and we’re supposed to clear them out. Until I hear confirmation from someone in my chain of command, I must ask you to stop interfering with CDR duties.”
Rather than argue back, the guard stared the APE in the eyes. He was half-a-foot shorter than the suit of armor, but his intimidating stare seemed to make up for it. “Chief Williams personally sends his regards.” He shoved a clipboard into the Sergeant’s mechanical body before returning to the doors.
The rest of CDR-4 expectantly watched as the Sergeant read through the documents. She seemed to be paying attention to watermarks, dates, and even the signature at the end. “Hm. CDRs are prohibited from entering zones 1, 4, and 7…”
She didn’t seem to believe the words herself, but the Sergeant had her orders. She tossed the clipboard to the side and moved away from the main doors. Nobody needed to say it; this entire mission stank of something bad.
Suddenly, a squad of city police arrived, led by a man with a grimace. He stood at a solid six-feet tall, and with a decent build, but with the obvious wear of constant stress and age. Though Sergeant Yang didn’t recognize him, the rest of the team slowly remembered who the hell he was.
“Oh shit,” Singh muttered, “that’s the guy I beat in the club.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The officer promptly greeted the Sergeant. “Sergeant Yang, I’m Sergeant Jared Manning. My squad found an alternative entrance that could help your team out. We’re not authorized to enter inside, but we can provide cover from outside.”
Andrew looked into the squad. Surely enough, he recognized a girl with short blonde hair, though her full features were covered by her helmet and goggles. Hopefully, she didn’t recognize him back—let alone remember the embarrassments in the club.
“Thank you for the support,” Sergeant Yang replied. “Have any clue why the main entrance is closed off?”
The city cop shrugged. “They don’t want anyone entering zones where, as they say, critical patients may be hurt during impending violence. Color me surprised, if that’s not a whole heap of bullshit.”
Everyone moved to the side entrance, which was a good distance away. Even on the walk over, they noticed that several other entrances were blocked off by mysterious guards. They gave the same unintimidated stares.
“I wish I could provide more support, but we were specifically instructed to not directly join your team,” Sergeant Manning continued before scratching his slightly ruffled mustache. “We have our hands tied. Honest.”
“I understand,” Sergeant Yang nodded. “Any reason for the sudden camaraderie? I’d say that it’s usual for police to be supportive, but I’d be lying.”
Sergeant Manning sighed as he set his men in position for the impending breach. “Not too long ago, I was more of a stickler about keeping out of CDR business. One of the fresh boots didn’t share the same sentiment. Long story short, he charged in as a man. Came out as a corpse.”
The middle-aged man paused for a second. “I dunno. Something about y’all makes me feel like I owe it to y’all, and to him.”
***
The interior of the mental institute had three details: dark, winding, and liminal. It had that horrid feeling of being familiar yet unfamiliar, like staring at a stranger who once offended you, even though you never knew their name. Everyone in the squad felt it.
Andrew definitely did.
No bodies, but the feeling of death reeked in the air. Someone, somewhere, sometime must’ve died. Beds, rooms, and—every once in a while—padded rooms remained empty with their doors swung open. “They really did evacuate everyone,” Smith muttered on comms. “I’m surprised the cops did more than sit on their asses and eat donuts.”
Stopping at an intersection, Sergeant Yant split the team into three fireteams: Singh and Gutierrez in one, Kang and Smith in two, and the Sergeant and Andrew in three. “Keep your eyes peeled for any movement. Our NVGs can only illuminate so much. I need everyone to trust their suits and trust their partners, got it?”
“Roger.” “Understood.” “Good to go, Sar’nt.”
But, frankly, Andrew was already spacing out. Damn it, this place felt far too familiar. He felt like he was a patient here at one point, though obviously not in this lifetime. Was his body even his?
“Cheng.”
Andrew didn’t move.
“Cheng!”
Andrew finally snapped awake, to find the other teams already on the move. The Sergeant was only waiting on him now. “Something on your mind?” she calmly asked. God, in moments like these, she sounded like such a mom.
“No. I’m good. Just… just bad vibes from this place.”
But instead of disagreeing, the Sergeant just nodded. “I feel that too. If this place doesn’t have a demon, then it’s definitely haunted by something. They might have to make CGRs after this: Counter Ghost Response,” she lightly joked. “But bad vibes aside, I still need your head in the game.”
Andrew blinked. Even through his suit, his blank stare must’ve been obvious. “Understood, Sergeant.”
He prepared to move first, but the Sergeant got in front of him. “I’ll take point “ She didn’t need to explain how she didn’t want Andrew to take the brunt of a demon attack when he was obviously distracted. It was probably for the best; even though these halls seemed oddly familiar.
Left.
They turned to find another dark hallway. The floor and walls, like the rest of the place, was made of the same checkered tile that went on and on. Stare into it long enough, and it seemed to go forever. It didn’t help that the only light source was some dangling fluorescent—it messed with the night vision.
“This is fireteam one: we got nothing,” Singh reported.
“Fireteam two: same here,” Smith said.
Sergeant Yang got on comms. “No action on fireteam three. Keep the status reports coming.”
They continued through the hallway, only for Andrew to suddenly stop halfway. “The playroom…” Andrew muttered. He ignored the Sergeant’s earlier advice and pushed without her.
“Hey! Cheng!”
Her voice felt so far away when he walked inside. Toys were thrown all around. including some alphabet blocks that were precariously crashed to the side. Foam balls ripped apart, a mini tricycle toppled to the side, not to mention some alphabet blocks tossed on the ground.
H. Y.
“What the hell…?” Andrew mumbled.
For a moment, he remembered a whole lifetime within this playroom. He must’ve been a little child—or at least he felt like one—riding around in that tiny tricycle around the room. He had a friend: a little girl. She liked to show him magic tricks.
Experiences that came almost as lists rather than moments. Things that were his to know, but not to realize. Almost like little flashes that he was forced to acknowledge.
There’s a worm in your brain.
“Cheng!”
Andrew finally snapped awake when the Sergeant’s stiff arm grabbed his shoulder. His eyes felt dry; he had forgotten to even blink. “God, Sergeant, sorry. There’s just something wrong. I can’t put my finger on–”
“Are you fucking possessed by something?”
Speaking sternly like that, the Sergeant was probably pissed for the first time—at least when it came to Andrew. It was terrifying. But worse yet, it made Andrew feel like a pathetic sack of shit.
“N-No, Sergeant. I don’t think I’m… possessed…”
“Then snap the hell out of it,” the Sergeant said. The only saving grace about this lashing was that she said it off comms. The others didn’t have to hear the gutwrenching comments. “At least Smith has an excuse to be out of it. That's why I had Kang keep him steady. But right now, you’re acting like a lost kid in a mall, and you’re not telling me why.”
Andrew froze for a moment longer. Not from the strange feelings of nostalgia mixed with fear, but with the strange realization that came with his waking moment. No, this was way worse than getting bad vibes.
All those dreams of being in this place, the strange memories of being in a place he had never been, and that creeping feeling of a finger wriggling in his brain. It was something more than just this place.
Maybe he really was getting possessed.
“Sergeant. I think I–”
Suddenly, a voice echoed down the end of the hallway. “Hello? Is there someone there?” A pitch that high and that panicked, it must’ve been a little girl. “Where did everyone go? The lady said I wasn’t supposed to leave until a policeman came.”
Andrew prepared to leave. The Sergeant stopped him. “Hold it.”
They tucked themselves away with their machineguns aimed at the doorway. Wide open, the door was almost like a portal to hell. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?” the girl sirened.
Sergeant went on comms, making sure none of her voice echoed into the air. “Fireteams one and two! Status report!”
There was a pause.
Singh finally reported, “This is fireteam one, we’re not seeing anything.”
“Fireteam two,” Smith added, “ain’t seeing shit.”
The Sergeant sighed. Her weapon was still aimed at the doorway as she relayed, “I need you two on my position. Stat.”
But even through their night vision, they could notice a figure slowly moving through the door. The Sergeant aimed for where the head would be; Andrew aimed for the legs. Now they were gonna find out what they were up against.