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The basement of the Medical Facility had a chill in the air, enough for the raptor to rub his arms slightly as he gazed forwards at the security window straight ahead of them. They stood in a T-shaped corridor, dull square-filled floors with the odd scufflemark of gurney wheels slicing in an arc around a corner. The place was as quiet and dead as the main area of the basement would be. "M-m-man this place is a li'l too cold innit?" said the raptor who, compared to his furry allies, was feeling the slight chill on his bare scales. "Well the doc upstairs did say it was near the morgue," said Sam, "it would be rather cold." "I-i guess. L-let's just gr-grab our stuff back and g-go okay?" They walked on to the end of the hall and saw the security laser beams blocking their path, shimmering thick bars of blue like naked fluorescent lights. "Looks to me we need to shut down the power supply," said Sam aloud. "Anyone willing to try deactivating it?" "OOH OOH, ME SAM ME!" Max jumped up and down excitably so as he jumped headlong into the forcefield and shuddered in the field. He juttered and giggled and spasmed insanely, before being kicked through it by Sam to the other side. "Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rrrrr hey Sam, I'm an energized bunny now!" "And you just keep going and going and going, dontcha, li'l buddy? Anyway, is there anything on that side you can fiddle with?" "Uhhh-" "I mean other than yerself." "OH, uhhh...yeah there's some kinda power box here." "Well yanno what to do then li'l buddy." Max brought out his Luger, temporarily swallowed when he needed to use both hands as he shot twice at the box. "Hey, it's reinforced and bulletproof!" "Is it psychopathic lagomorph proof?" "...good point!" And with that, the rabbit bashed his head against it repeatedly, whaling on the box with such a furious energy in his skull, that James was surprised when the casing cracked eventually. Max soon tore at the innards with brutal disregard for his own health, sparks flying all over his fur. Some of them made tiny fires he easily put out, as the force field turned off. "Good work Max!"

Sam headed through the gate to check on his lapine friend, who was spasming slightly and shaking his head a bit. "Ahhh...corn dogs don't make good draught excluders right?" "Nope." "Oh, good, I'm okay then!" Hopping back on his feet, he looked at his allies as they headed to the morgue together, trying to find the area where the inmates' possessions were stored. They searched room after room of the cold basement, the raptor shivering now and again. He was desperate to have his jeans back, and maybe an extra shirt if they could find one. "H-h-how many more rooms dammiiiiiit?!?!" "Oh keep yer britches on," said Sam with an effortless patient tone, "not my fault yer cold-blooded." "I-i-i swear to GOD I'm gonna skin you alive, I'm not ps-ps-ps-psychopath!" "I was more referring to the fact you're a reptile, and therefore posses an ectothermic metabolism, although this is still up to debate-" "SHUT UP GOD DAMMIT, I WANT SOME F-F-FUCKING CLOTHES!" "Sheesh, alright, damn kids today, ya try an' educate 'em a li'l beyond two syllables and they scream at ya." "It's a debilitating curse upon our modern society, Sam." Max's sage observation on this only made more confusion for James as they eventually got nearer to the morgue, with even more cold coming over the group. Soon they found a storage room marked "Inmates' Possessions", much to their delight. "FINALLY!" James immediately set upon the door, only to find it locked, scuffling with the lock desperately and banging at it hastily. "Fffffffuuuuck!" Sam merely shrugged commenting: "Well you didn't expect it to be left open didntcha?" "Well can't you open it somehow? You're cops right, you know all about breaking into a place." "That we do. Allow me." He merely sweeped his arm from Max to the door as if introducing his long-eared companion gracefully so, before Max promptly shot the lock to pieces. The lock was soon completely ruined beyond repair, burnt even. "...damn," was James' only reply. Sam pushed the door with his foot gently to let it swing open, allowing them in as Max giggled to answer: "Special bullets I made myself! But I'll never tell what the secret recipe is!" They walked in as Sam and James retrieved their clothes and gear, the raptor putting his more comfortable jeans back on and stealing a jacket to wear to not feel so cold. Sam meanwhile put on his suit and tie, but kept his prison pants on. "Mmmmm...I missed you, buddy." "I'm right here Sam!" "I meant my hat!"

And said hat was currently being given a few smooches by the dog before he wore it proudly on his head with a distinguished pose. With badge in the pocket of his suit as it always was, he flashed it to James to test his wrist. "Freelance Police." "I know." "Good. Just checking I still got my badge-flashing skills." "Oh Sam you know you aced that class!" said Max proudly. "As well as degrees in Murderonomy and Murderology." "Hehe yeah. Isn't the internet the best school ever?" "I'd say it was the kind of school that would be accompanied with a soundtrack by Coolio, and they never actually learn anything other than the most useless mindless trivia of our modern generation." "I'm entitled to know when movies were released so I can make lists about them by year!" "As am I entitled to learning about every single thing MacGuyver ever invented that didn't involve a paperclip." As the two sighed feeling more comfortable with Sam having most of his clothes back, James asked: "So...where's your gun?" "Hmm? OH yeah haha, sorry I forgot about th...HEY, they took my gun!" "Here it is Sam, it's in this locker over here!" Max pointed vigorously to a large locker at the back explicitly stated as containing firearms. "Lemme open this one too!" "NO!" The dog and dino said this at the same time, knowing this did not require Max's inventively violent lockpicking. Sam decided a better way was by pulling out a Diner's Club card and sliding it in between the locker doors to click open the lock. "There we go." And so he opened it to reveal an absolute plethora of weaponry. James gasped wide-eyed at the first time he had seen so many guns in his life. Rows upon rows of mostly handguns collected from inmates upon their entry into the asylum, as well as a few shotguns or rifles. Sam merely whistled, impressed at the collection. Max however, looked as if he was on the state of orgasm while under the effects of LSD. "Hu-haaa...hummina....eeeeh...hhhhhoooo..." "Uh oh." "What?" said James to the detective canine. "I think my li'l buddy's gettin' overstimulated. Hey Max, remember the time we opened Carlos Mencia's history folder?"

And with that came a horrifying shudder from the lagomorph, cringing in a way that James could only think was the complete opposite of being turned on. "Th-thanks pal." "A whole page of awful taste works better than a cold shower. You can thank my acumen for that." "Sam..." "Oh right, sorry." "Why do I get the feeling I'm not even a sidekick in this?" James asked this more to himself but to also the two detectives to which Sam replied: "Because you're not?" "...I guess. Anyways can we take any of these?" Sam merely shrugged his shoulders. "Can't think of a reason not to. Also...AHA!" He grabbed at one particular .44 Magnum, a mean-looking long dark-coloured revolver that impressed the raptor. "Ooooh, nice piece. How didya know it was yours?" "I recognise this li'l sticker tear on the handle from an old Star Wars sticker I had on this." "Hey Sam," asked Max, "why didya take that sticker off anyway?" "...things change, li'l buddy." He said it with such a solemn tone that surprised James a little surprised, but they were soon interrupted by a sudden horrifying scream from down the corridor, echoing through their bones. "The fuck was that!?!?" asked James in a panicked tone. "No idea, but with that sudden vociferation we got a case on our hands, even if it only lasts for five minutes! Grab all the bullets ya can carry, it's gonna be a li'l tough getting outta here. You know how to use a gun James?" "A li'l, I'm more of a brawler." James grabbed two handguns from the rack, a G18 machine pistol and a regular M1911 A1 Colt, taking their ammo as Sam took as much revolver ammo as possible. Max also grabbed a bunch of handgun bullets for his Luger, before heading out of the storage room to investigate the source of the scream. It seemed to come from the direction of the morgue itself.

The room upon entering was frosted over with an icy mist of death. Cold like the bodies stored within, the white mist wrapped around their legs as the raptor shivered even more so despite his regained clothes. They saw the place was in a rather messy state. Formaldehyde jars were smashed and scattered, a few bodies draped disrespectfully around the place, one of which was bleeding. "Eeesh," was James' only expression at the scene, "that's just sad, getting killed in the morgue." "Convenient for the undertaker though," quipped Sam. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and, realising they could do nothing here, decided to head back the way they came with James trying to remember their plan. "So we got our stuff back, now we just have to get out of the asylum right?" "Eeeyup." "And then what?" "Well since nobody recognised ya in Crossville, Illinois, we gotta go for the next one." "Or you could just accept I'm not from this world and let me go realising there's no way you can get me in jail with no body and no evidence." "Listen pal, you might be a li'l off-the-cuff about murder than most rational-minded people, but I got a job to do. My job is to protect the innocent and hunt down the criminals. If I let you walk out right now, I'll be doing a disservice to the world and I might as well turn in my badge and give it all up to be something useless, like a cartoon writer or part of the Academy Awards Committee!" Max wiped a tear from his eye at this speech as James blustered out: "But I told you everything! How can I convince you that what I did was right? I'm not asking you to give up your job, I'm asking you how the hell you can judge me when you don't know me, you don't know the case especially when you can't question anybody else involved in it, and when you can't even see the...b-body?!?" "Oy..." Sam rubbed his head, feeling a little frustrated as he realised how difficult his suspect and his case would be. Much as he wanted to believe there was never a case he couldn't solve involving the most insane ideas, if he had no way of finding this one out, perhaps it was not a case for him. But he was an old dog, and every case was like an old chew toy to him. Something he never wanted to let go. The Freelance Police were admired for at least one thing. Tenacity against the impossible. "We can't worry about that now anyway, first we gotta get outta this place. Maybe along the way I'll see what kinda person you really are." "Alright." "You guys smell dat?" Max's question butting in made them look around at the place, unable to detect any scent. Sam tried to smell it out. "Nnnnno?" "I can smell sumthin'...smells like...broken dreams." "Oh good, Mark Hamill's nearby, maybe he can help us!" "Nah nah nah not THAT broken Sam, it's...it's more..." "Nightmarish?" "Yeah exactly, hey who said that!?!?" "ME!"

From above they were knocked down by a huge pair of black wings, blasting them with air on their backs as they laid out on linolem. They gazed upon a huge crow with piercing orange eyes, wearing a sack over his entire face. Only the beak poked out of it, from a once-sewn-up hole. His body reeked of fear. The fear of others, the sweat and tears of harrowing victims, his eyes gleaming from under the straw hat. Sam only replied with: "Look Max, it's that guy who was in Tim Burton's Wizard of Oz!" "Cillian Murphy?" "NO, whatcha mean by-oh right." "Well well well, a dog, a dino and a rabbit. Normally I would think this was a pathetically heartwarming children's film." "I knew there was something off about Homeward Bound 3," murmured Sam, shaking his head sadly. "But believe me, this is no mere children's film! Are you ready to face your nightmares?" The three stared at each other and sighed. "Yer a li'l late," started Sam, shuffling hands in his pockets nonchalantly, "Already been there and back again." "We call it...the Day of the Tentacles." Max's eyes were a little fazed as he said this, trance-like as Sam commented: "I'll never hear an ice-cream truck the same way again." "Wasn't that a dream we had Sam?" "...I'm just gonna go safe and say it was." "Hmph...so you think your minds are tougher than that?" "We been to plenty of conventions, we've seen it all." "And what about you?" The creature pointed a leathery wing at James who merely looked up. "Yeah what about me?" "Do you think you faced your nightmares?" "If you call having the love of your life murdered by a serial killer, then yeah, but I got over that when I gutted him...goddamnit can NOBODY leave me alone about that, I just wanna move on okay!?!?" "We didn't even mention it my boy." "Gotta admit kid," said Sam, "we haven't really been pushin' ya about details." "Oh that is such bullshit, you are ALWAYS on my case about it, trying to see if I was innocent or not!" "Only going by whatcha tell us." "Well get a fucking notebook and write it down so you don't have to keep asking, I'm sick of talking about it, I want to move on!" "No you don't." "Clam it fuckbeak or I'll rip that beak off and shove it up your ass!" "Woah-ho kid calm down," said Sam, "you dunno what yer dealing with!" "Oh don't I?" James got annoyed by this and brought out his G18 to blast at the crow, shooting from the stomach up to the face. He only hit the wall behind him, when in a flurry of bullets and feathers the crow had disappeared, nowhere to be seen.

"Wh...where'd he go!?" "I'll admit," said Sam, "he's good, but he's no Criss Angel." "He was right there, I shot him good!" "Not the best thing to say when yer with two detectives, James." "Oh like you actually wanna give me a chance!" "Well, everyone does, don't they? Why do ya keep making us out to be like we wanna throw you away?" "Because you do! YOU TOLD ME WHEN WE FIRST MET!" "I'm entitled to change my mind, aren't I? Certainly after you were either crazy enough to take on that huge bastard outside." "Well he could've killed all three of us if I didn't do anything yanno, and maybe you can tell me that more often, officer, because I don't know what the fuck is with you two...weirdos. You're always chattering like crazy to each other!" Max merely shrugged and stated: "Hey, we get stressed, we make pop-culture references, it's what we do! It's why people love us!" "You shoulda seen us in our prime!" said Sam proudly. "You don't understand us, that's fine by us, but we're a credit to this world of misery and intolerance and without our presence people wouldn't feel as safe or happy. You might think we're just another two mooks in blue, but we're more than that to some." "Hell we're a trademark even!" James was rather surreptitious to hear this and asked hesitantly: "...are you two like...superheroes or something?" "Some of us say we are, but we're only one thing. Freelance police!" "I love it when ya get all proud of yerself Sam!" And with that Max hugged the dog's leg tightly like a little boy, with Sam merely petting his head and leaving James rather confused with it all once again. And then a thought occurred to Sam. "Hey...yanno how yer saying about how you just slipped through dimensions?" "Yyyyyeah?" "Wellll...if ya don't like it here, why dontcha just leave?" "Well, firstly I'm not very experienced with it. Secondly...I'd get kinda worried, this place is a hellhole and...to be honest I don't..." "Hmmmm?" "You're not...that bad guys compared to most police I know, so I..." It seemed a real effort for him to admit this and he just grunted in trying to force the words out. Sam merely patted his back in understanding. "Theeeere ya go. That wasn't so hard now was it?" "I guess." "Well howsabout getting outta here we can grab some ice cream!" "And no tentacles!" blurted Max which made the dog giggle. They walked away from the morgue to the elevator to see if it was still working. On the way there however, James started to feel dizzy, somewhat light-headed, feeling his vision blur slightly.

"Ungh..." "You okay kid?" "I feel a li'l dizzy..." "Maybe it's that gas that weird crow guy was giving out." said Max. "What'd it smell like li'l buddy?" "Uhhhhh...I'm gonna say hallucinogenic." "Oooh damn, well we got some immunity from that so he'd have to pump out plenty more for us but for our Jurassic friend here...uhhh ya seeing anything?" James merely shook his head and tried slowly walking forwards. "I see...nnngh...I dunno...I smell...wh...no...D-daisy?" "Uh oh. This don't look good, okay James, close yer eyes and do not open them, we'll take ya back." "Back where?!? I wanna see Daisy, I-i-i just saw her!" "To the elevator, you'll be fine, come on!" The dog gripped him as tight as he could and ran to the lift with Max as James tried to close his eyes. But the hallucinogenic gas was gripping his mind, slowly twisting his senses. He swear he could hear her. He could smell her beautiful earthen scent everywhere, choking him, so close to him. He tried to reach out but was restrained by the duo. "L-let go! I have to see her, she's somewhere here!" "Get over yerself, she's deader than Ricardo Montalban's career, you said it yerself!" "NO, SHE'S HERE! DAISY!" "Max, blind him!" Max brought out from his mouth a bundle of multicoloured handkerchiefs, taking a while to reach the end, pulling them in a variety of colours as quick as he could. "Hurry Max!" "Ahm tryin', guk!" "DAISY! I'M HERE! I CAN HEAR HER! PLEASE!" Indeed he imagined hearing her voice, beckoning him closer from afar, a wispy mentioning of his name in soothing innocent tones that brought tears to his face. He only turned more panicked as he heard what he imagined her screams from afar, a choking sound that made him struggle more harder. "NO! BOB, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! HE'S KILLING HER, LEMME GO! DAISY, I'M COMING!" Finally Max brought out the end of the handkerchief chain and wrapped it around James' eyes and entire body to bind him tightly like a mummy. He was gagged as well, before they hurried to the lift to escape the gas. "Quick, get inside!" "DMMM-MMMMM!" "Close the doors!" Max pounded the lift doors to go upwards as Sam put the bound raptor on the floor, who wriggled trying to break free of his bondage. He continued to scream as the hallucinations teased him with his lover's presence.

"MMMMM! MMMMMMNNNGGH!" "Boy...hear what he was saying back there?" "My ears are still ringing like New Year, Sam." "Whaddaya think of that gas? Hallucinogenic preying on fear? Ya'd think he'd be more worried about being locked up than something that already happened to him." "Yeah...what do ya think, maybe it's like Memento!" "I thought we agreed never to mention that movie again!" "Oh yah, sorry." "Anyways, maybe he was telling the truth of how things went, considering how he's reacting. But we gotta know about that guy in the morgue...maybe that Manbat can help us." The elevator then stopped and they waited for the doors to open as Max asked: "So do we get a bat signal or a Man Signal? Hey Sam, what do bats like to read?" "Ugh I dunno, and I'm thinking contemporary historical romance novels of the 19th century, owing to the overuse of gothic architecture. Wish we had a way to contact him." "You already have." A familiar gravelly voice came from above, as the two looked up to see the flying fox himself swoop in from the elevator shaft and land in front of the opening doors. Just as they opened to appear as the small menacing cloaked visage he was. "You sure have an impeccable sense of timing!" "It's something you practice. What did you want to ask me?" "We saw some weird guy in the morgue, crow who was kinda dressed like a scarecrow, sure hope he doesn't realise the pun." "He probably would, he calls himself Scarecrow." "...do all superheroes suffer from a bad sense of writing?" "I'm not a superhero, and neither is he." "Oh right." "He's a master of fear, using powerful hallucinogenic fear gas he made himself to induce the most terrifying fears in people." "...it wouldn't happen to drudge up traumatic memories would it?" "It would." "Ahh. James here got hit with it. We're kinda used to dealing with that sorta stuff from earlier cases but not him. He was screaming out his dead girl's name and such, had to tie him up or he'd have been real trouble." "The gas will wear off soon, for now keep him restrained. I see you got your clothes back." "Yup. And just for proof." Sam flashed his badge out with an expert flick of the wrist, showing his proof as a detective with Manbat nodding. "Glad to see you're official. What now?" "Now we gotta get outta this place." "That's not possible right now. The entire place is in lockdown thanks to the criminals getting out, in turn thanks to The Joke Rat." "Oh boy, another crazed supervillain with a gimmick," Max stated this in a sarcastic way before adding with a giggle, "We should put down some poison pills for him, yanno like the real-" "Laugh all you want but if he catches you, you won't stop laughing until you're dead. He's insane and extremely dangerous, and I advise you to not underestimate him." "Sure thing Mr. Manbat," agreed Sam. "So where to now?" "You're the only law enforcement on the island that isn't on Daley's payroll. I could use your assistance for some matters." "Aren't you just a masked vigilante? A caped crusader?" "We're working towards justice together, aren't we?" "...well since ya helped us out before, I wouldn't mind repaying the favour someday soon. I hate leaving debts out so long." "Ya still got an IOU from me Sam!" added Max. "I know li'l buddy, I'll getcha a Mint Cornetto one day, yanno those are hard to find." "Good!" "So, where to now Mr. Manbat?" "Just call me Manbat. And for now, we leave this place to the mansion on the other end. Joke Rat's heading for Daley's new place, and I wanna know why." "Lead the way, we're armed and behind ya." And with that they headed out of the Medical Facility with Sam picking up the bound raptor who was crying softly to himself. His tears stained the many handkerchiefs, much to Max's chagrin. "Awww man." "What's wrong li'l buddy?" "He's crying on my handkerchief, gross." "Leave him be, he's got his own problems, we can wash it later." "Okay, but the laundry guy's taking his sweet time with yer pants."