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The Guy Who would Not Die - Asylum Brawl
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
Circuits fried, all lights destroyed and all security and orderly staff were slaughtered mercilessly by the patients/inmates of Williams Asylum; located far away from all nearby settlements. Help is not arriving anytime soon and in fact, no one knows what happened here, to begin with. My partner was dragged away into the darkness of cell block 6; the place where the most aggressive psychoes were held. Not even the armoured guards carrying submachine guns survived when the cells flew open.
Fast-forward to now, the screams of the inmates are heard all over the asylum; lunatics laughing as they destroy everything they see, those who got their hands on guns just firing at the smallest of noises and movements and some even fighting amongst themselves. As a security officer, I was tasked to restore order in cell block 5 alongside other 3 men; 2 of which were butchered and one lost his mind among the chaos and ran off. How the confrontation ended is a blur in my mind but I remember how I drove one inmate's head into a wall radiator as he tried to stab me with a glass shard.
More of them showed up and one even had a gun; while he was a terrible shot, the bullet still did some damage to me and now I can't run; a 9mm round to the knee as it ricocheted off something. Falling down to a storm of pipes, kicks, control batons and even chair legs; the screams and laughter created a hiss in my ears as it went on. Immobilised and battered, they carried me somewhere I could not place, some forgotten wing of the century-old structure; I remember falling and then I lost conscience.
Left for Dead; Still Alive
Coming back to reality, I saw that I WAS carried into a forgotten wing because in all my time working within Williams, I have never seen it despite my patrol routes covering 90% of the asylum. Standing up, I walked forward and then heard, very far into the dark hallway;
"You have been bad!" said a stern yet shrill voice. "I told you those needles will do you no good!"
A loud shriek of pain followed; by the same voice.
"So you want it the hard way!" it continued.
I froze as sounds of movement began; going for my control baton, I realised that I had lost it during the fight; it was down to my own strength to survive. As movement drew closer, I saw what looked like a patient but he appeared to be missing his left hand; no signs of hostility so I did not think of attacking him. Suddenly, he snapped at pure random and charged at me screaming "witchetty, WITCHETTY!!!!!" he reached for my throat, "you made this happen Mr. wiggly witchetty man, turning my own hand against me!"
I pulled his hand away and with a leg sweep, put him to the ground and knocked him out with a single punch. At this point, I could expect anything; it's either them or me. Fight now, explanation later. I know nothing about mental disorders but what I know is that the inmates are unpredictable and at this asylum; they were out for blood; be it due to their mental delusions, paranoia or fears; they could think they are fighting out of hell.
I limped further on into the forgotten wing with my reflexes in defence mode as I developed them in close-combat courses I attended at the agency who was contracted to provide security for this asylum. Situational awareness started on me; "was I above or below ground" I asked myself as I scanned for a possible exit route. The darkness never seemed to end; endless hallways with pain, fear and suffering scrawled across the walls; literally and in spirit. I saw illustrations and words that were written like warnings; evil spirits, aliens, the devil himself; the mind is a strange thing. It also occurred to me that to restore order, I have to start here and lure it out into the open; where an open confrontation is possible. I will hunt and neutralise all the threats I can.
To restore order against the insane; I have to become something they are afraid of; a combination of all their worst fears and I have to be impervious to whatever they throw at me. This was a tactic of the Persian Immortals from the Achaemid Empire; to keep a consistent strength of 10,000 men where the fallen, wounded or sick warriors were immediately replaced by a fresh one. I am but one guy so I have to try harder. Deal out more damage and withstand even more against many foes; no time for training so its all about will power.
I fashioned a control baton out of the wall piping I managed to tear off a derelict bathroom, tore off my shirt sleeves and made a face mask; covering the mouth area akin to a ninja from old martial arts films. The absence of body armour was a hidden advantage for me because the inmates could see the blood but no effect of pain or damage; psychological warfare in action; showing enemy tactics as useless.
Finally, I had to hit hard, very hard so I also improvised 2 gauntlets from discarded metal pieces which came from door hinges of the abandoned cells. I worked some of them under my clothes; knee area of my pants and soles of my shoes. This time, no more stealth; time for war; so I walked with semi-exhibitionist confidence as if trying to impress my college crush from years ago while chanting; "I am what you all fear, coming for you; invading your minds and taking your lives."
Broken, Beaten, Pierced; Still Alive
Now, I was walking past familiar asylum floors; I was back to the main wing and my chanting and provoking has attracted a chorus of running steps, noise of pipes hitting walls, screams of fear, twisted excitement and psychotic rambling. "You took my son from me!" "The power of Christ compels you!" "God-forsaken terrorist!" Some of what I heard.
I spun around and it looked like it rained inmates; it look like about 50 of them were jumping from a floor above me; falling down like living mortar ordnance. Wasting no time, I went for the closest one and with a hook punch, knocked him out as blood splattered around. Dodging a shard of serrated metal, I ate a pipe swing to my ribs and not breaking stride; I kicked my assailant to the chest; my hinge-toed shoes hurt him bad. Grabbed from the side, one was choking me out; before I could execute a one-arm shoulder throw, I felt a sudden push from my stomach, followed by sharp pain and cold sensations; I was shanked.
Then and there I almost lost it and fell but, gathering all my strength I executed the throw I planned with lightning speed; pulled the shank from myself and fighting through the pain; I taunted my enemies by playing with it; only to end it by jabbing it to the closest inmate. The adrenaline in my system pumped hard and the pain started to fade; I was fired up. At this point, I disabled and killed about 10 with hard strikes to vital zones; head and solar plexus most notably. Breaking bones, shaking off all the punishment I received. Standing in the middle of what was now a circle, twisted faces sizing me up as I walked back and forth; trying to see if anyone had a firearm; so I could anticipate shaking off a possible bullet wound.
One-Arm Shoulder Throw
The True Test
"Rot in Hell, ALIEN!" I heard from my left side and a second later, I felt a hard hit on my shoulder; I was shot with terrible accuracy. Lucky for me, I could pretend that it had no effect. "I stole your children for experiments" I hissed at random while hoping to strike a nerve. "The inferior civilisation should slave for the New World Order!" I continued to fit the alien rhetoric; taking things from conspiracy theorist blogs I ran across. The inmate let loose 2 more shots; eating them both; I leapt forward in his direction and grabbed him; headbutting his nasal bridge and slugging him into the throat.
Now, I could feel myself slowing down, my vision fading and my limbs growing numb but I still kept standing; almost by reflex/involuntary. However, I was attacked a lot less now since the inmates were getting the hint that their attacks are not effective; at least they assume. Tactically, I had to use the environment since I could only do so much in my state; shifting back towards a window I saw from the corner of my eye. The circle followed after I broke through it with a shoulder lunge; 2 shank-wielding inmates ran after. I dodged their strikes and led them to crash through the window behind me.
I decided to play the alien card again, if some of them believe that I am one, they will fall for this; their brain obviously thinks I am capable of such a thing. "Your thoughts to my thoughts, my mind to yours," I said almost singing. "Approach me." To my surprise, it worked since 3 inmates did just that; allowing me to execute a double throw from the window while dealing with the third one afterwards. I did just that and it scared the now less-hostile mob.
To my surprise; I heard angry cries once again; "You will not take me, alien!" This riled the inmates up once more; will I survive this time?
© 2017 Jake Clawson