Prologue 5: Axegate Asylum

As they neared the periphery of the external walls of the Asylum, a particular scent flooded John's senses, which he could only surmise to be the various chemical tranquillizers probably being used on the many patients in the Asylum.

But this scent only made John strain and exert more strength, causing an abrupt halt in their advance again. But this time, just barely before the Asylum's entrance doors.

"Please, you don't have to do this. Please, I'd rather be in the penitentiary. Anywhere but the Asylum, Please!"

"Sorry, bub. We've got orders. So quit resisting!" The uptight guard said coldly.

Then John started thrashing his legs, creating a measured force to pull himself and the two policemen backwards and away from the Asylum doors.

It was quite astounding; the strength and power attainable when the mind is being driven by a firm resolve against a particular notion.

But as evident as that may have seemed, John's success in creating distance between himself and the doors to the Asylum could also be attributed to the sheer amount of fear and adrenaline coursing through his body.

Meanwhile, the two guards, who had been tasked to safely transport John into the asylum had initially wondered if John was truly deserving of being transferred to the Asylum.

But after seeing his frantic movements, they thought maybe, just maybe, he was crazy!

Having been in this particular line of work for a considerable amount of time, they knew very well how essential it was to transfer death-row inmates—like John especially—to the Asylum. This was so because, in most cases, when an individual was being put on death row for a short period, such as John's, they tend to lose their guts and go rabidly insane, putting the other sane inmates in an overall physical danger.

So the Asylum, being a non-questionable alternative, was a housing complex for this unique group of individuals.

After the latter's safe entrance and admission into the Asylum, they would be cared for and treated to maintain a stable mental condition up until their scheduled execution day.

Deducing this much only frenzied John's resistance as he kept thrashing his legs to pull away from the Asylum.

But he came to an abrupt halt when the doors to the Asylum swung open, spewing two men who were undoubtedly the Asylum nurses.

"What's going on here?" One of them asked when they drew closer to John and the two guards.

"What sort of question is that? We posted a transfer file for this inmate a few hours ago. Didn't your boss mention anything to you?" The uptight guard asked.

Averting his gaze from the uptight guard and letting it fall on John, the nurse could now vaguely remember receiving a memo stating a later transfer that day.

So he said: "Oh, right! Mister John Carter, is it?"

"Yes... it is..."

"Good. Now, would you kindly let these two gentlemen escort you inside the Asylum?"

"No! Of course not. Put me anywhere but in the Asylum. Please."

The nurse sighed.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a say on whether or not a person is fit to be in the Asylum. I just follow orders like everyone else here does, so please try to cooperate." The nurse stated.

But with a hoarse voice, John pled: "Please, you have to listen to me. I am not crazy! I have never been. Talk to your superiors. I'm sure they would see reason to reconsider. Please!"

The nurse could only sigh again in response to John's plea before pulling out a large syringe from his pocket, obviously attempting to tranquillize him, just to make sure that they were able to get him safely into the Asylum without a further altercation.

But John reacted faster than normal.

His leg shot forth in a kick and smashed the nurse's balls, causing him to fall to the ground, writhing in pain while muttering a set of incoherent words.

However, in the next set of seconds, John felt a pricking sensation at the back of his neck. And following that strange sensation was a sudden blackout from consciousness.

Apparently, the nurse who had had his cobblers smashed by John wasn't the only one with a needle. The other one did, and he had taken advantage of John's momentary distraction to jab the needle into John's neck, administering the tranquillizer into his system.

***

After the passing of several long hours, John's eyes drowsily fluttered open.

His overall vision blurred for a few moments, but ultimately stabilised enough for him to finally realise where he had woken up to:

Room 49 was one of the many rooms inside the Asylum.

Strangely, the last thing he could remember so far was the moment in time when he had been approached by the two odd-looking nurses.

Everything after that was either hazy or a bit elusive.

But as time trickled away by mere seconds, John could now vaguely recall the strange prickly sensation he had previously felt, just before he had blacked out.

With a slight frown, he came to a deduction: "I had been tranquillized...

...Must have been one those damned nurses."

Still yet to attain his optimum cognitive state of mind, John's thoughts and reasoning were a bit jumbled, which was the after-effect of the tranquillizer—administered into his system, this fact was a base factor for his deduction.

But like most deductions ever made, there were bound—to exist a few minor inconsistencies to it.

While being accurate in a general sense, the real truth to which John was quite oblivious was that The tranquillizers being administered to patients in the Asylum were, in actual fact, a modified version of the original serum procured through the government's tax funds.

This new version of the serum was made by adding a measured dose of a powerful psychedelic drug into the mixture. A psychedelic drug capable of not only numbing their senses, but also producing distorted sensory perceptions and feelings, altered state of awareness, or sometimes, a peculiar feeling bearing semblance of psychosis.

But from an overall perspective, the drug made the patients lose their grip on reality, thereby making them dumber than a rock.

Fortunately for John, he had woken up a bit after the "time-of-effect" of the drug, so he wasn't showing any sign of psychosis. However, as he tried moving his arms, he could barely feel the metallic restraints they had been subjected to.

Confused, he looked over from his lying position, tilting his head upwards as far as his neck flexibility allowed.

Having achieved that, John could barely see that his limbs were being cuffed to the railings of the hospital bed.

He had obviously been manhandled by the two male nurses he had met a while ago.

As he tugged on the cuffs in frustration, a lean figure walked by and abruptly stopped right in front of his room when they noticed that he had awoken.

"Oh, Mister Carter. You are awake." The young, lean lady, obviously another one of the Asylum nurses, said.

Instead of her initial destination, she then walked into John's room, holding—in her hands, a tablet used in taking the readings of a patient's vitals.

John watched as she took a seat beside his bed, casting the brightest smiles he had ever seen in a while.

"Hello, Mister Carter. My name is Jane, and I'm the head nurse of this particular section in Axegate Asylum.

So... in other words... You'd be seeing me more often than normal throughout the day... and in the next few subsequent days to come." The nurse informed.

John turned his head to her as best as he could, enduring the soreness of his neck.

He then said:

"I'd offer you a handshake right now, but I'm afraid that it won't do the both of us any good..."

John glanced and tugged on his wrist cuffs.

Then he continued:

"...I understand why the patients in the Asylum had to bear restraints at all times, but this... this is just crippling and torturous. At least cuff just the legs and forget the arms. I can't even move an inch."

Showing no visible reaction to John's quetch, the nurse replied calmly:

"I understand how you must feel right now, but you have to know that it hasn't always been like this. You see... A long time ago, patients were known to be able to pick the locks of their ankle cuffs, and also the locks of their fellow patients too.

At that time, we were too ignorant to notice this change, so their numbers bolstered enough to mount a riot in the Asylum.

It was a devastating riot that cost us a considerable amount of good doctors, nurses, and patients alike.

But after that day, the bylaws were edited by the local authorities—stating that all Asylum patients should and always have all their limbs bound at all times.

And so far, their effort in curbing any further rioting proved to have worked quite trenchantly."

'Great! I guess visits to the chiropractor would be a regular thing here now.' John thought dejectedly.

Not even bothering to allay John's dejection and uneasiness, Jane, the nurse, decided to jump right into her main purpose of being in his room in the first place:

"I'll just be taking a few readings for now; then I'll be back later after lunchtime to administer a few doses of Clozaril.

Also, I know you think you don't need it, but you have to know that protocol compels me to do so.

I'd lose my job if word were to go out that I had intentionally skipped a patient's treatment.

So I hope you understand."

Jane said before making her way towards the door afterwards, leaving John who still had his gaze lingering on her as her figure disappeared into the ward's hallway.

Then he thought: 'Nice Nurse.'