Mind's Echo

Quincy

Hard electronic music played on the car radio as the wiper blades of a rental car windshield swiped back and forth. The car took a hard left down a dark, forgotten drive. Ahead, hidden in the shadows, was the destination of the driver: Clarkmann Home for the Mentally Insane. 

"Maybe falling asleep to TWD on Netflix at the hotel last night wasn't the smartest idea," the driver, Quincy, mused aloud as he maneuvered the car along the drive. "Oh, well, at least I'm here now."

Quincy worked as private security for a handful of large corporations that paid exceptionally well for his unique skill sets, off grid status, and overall discretion. He had been hesitant to accept this particular job after doing research on the location. Something just hadn't sat right, but the payout had included too many zeros after the number 1 to be ignored. It had been an offer that could've potentially meant early retirement to an island, as he had so often daydreamed, or perhaps it had been an offer too good to be true. The jury was still out on that one.

His employer, The Cyberdyne Management Company, had hired him to procure lost notes from a Dr. Lewis's experiments. Quincy had managed to track down the doctor's former assistant's son about a week prior to his visit to Tennessee, and by posing as a government agent, he had been able to get the man to provide him with a hand-drawn map of the doctor's secret vault from his late mother's belongings, which had not been confiscated by the police. What had bothered Quincy most was that just before he had left the son's apartment, the gentlemen had shown Quincy an excerpt from his mother's journal which stated that the last time she had spoken with Dr. Lewis he had been "celebrating like a madman, screaming, 'I did it! I finally cracked it! I'm going to be rich! I am Dr. Frankenstein!!!'" The son had advised Quincy that whatever he might find in the safe, he should destroy it. He said that he had heard the doctor was performing ghastly experiments on the helpless patients of the asylum. He didn't feel that any good could come from anything associated with the man.

Quincy finally pulled up to the front of the abandoned asylum. He hesitated as he noticed the other cars parked there. He quickly turned off the headlights.

"What the hell is somebody doing here?"

He didn't want any witnesses, but more so, he didn't want someone infringing on his coup de grace. This job would have him set for life if he could deliver. What if someone has beaten me to the doctor's secret safe? His anxiety quickly escalated.

"I have to work extra hard for everything. Damn. Okay, fine ... Let's do this."

He whipped the car into reverse and parked off into the woods so it couldn't be seen from the asylum. After killing the engine and stepping out of the vehicle, he popped open the trunk, pulled a small hand gun out of a lock-box and placed it between the small of his back and his belt, underneath his long black trench coat. He threw his wallet into the lock-box, grabbed his small professional lock picking case, and closed the trunk. 

Deciding on the direct approach, Quincy hiked up to the front door purposefully. He pushed it open and yelled in an authoritative manner, while reaching for his firearm:

"Hey, trespassers! If you tell me what it is you are doing here, I may be convinced not to call the police!"