The unmarked white van that transported inmates from the nearby county correctional facility finally came to a stop in front of the asylum.  The road had been long, and Tom, the corrections officer assigned to transport Alex Masters, was tired and ready to be rid of this psychopath.  The man was a violent schizophrenic, and during his time in county jail, he had assaulted three corrections officers and seriously injured one of them.  The asylum was his home now, and Tom was glad of it.  He grinned when he pictured the man doped up day in and day out, spending the rest of his life drooling onto a straight jacket.<br/><br/>Two orderlies met him outside as he stepped from the van.  They went about trading signatures on their custody forms and other legal requirements, and then waited while Tom opened the van door, listening to him describe the pain in the ass that Alex was.  When the doors opened, the two slid inside, carefully undoing the restraints that kept Masters' wheel cart locked to the van's inner wall.  Once it was free, one slid behind, shoving the cart forward, the prone Masters locking eyes with the corrections officer as he watched.<br/><br/>But before he could do much more, the other orderly quickly injected him with a sedative.  The world began to spin, and then go dark.  Masters tried to fight it, but the drug was too strong, and he soon found himself unconscious, his mind lolling into dream land.  Tom chuckled, seeing him go under, and nodded appreciatively.  "Nice job, boys." he said, resting his hands on his hips.<br/><br/>"Don't worry about Mr. Masters anymore, officer." the remaining orderly said, watching while his companion carted the man into the asylum.  "He'll only be a danger to himself in here."  With a nod and a handshake, the two parted ways, and the orderly returned to the asylum, eager to be done with the paperwork for the newest inmate.