Graveyard shift at an insane asylum that Roman had to drive 3 hours just to get to wasn't exactly his ideal career choice. But hell, he needed the money. Needed to get back on his feet after his divorce, had to keep up on child support, and so on and so forth.

And boy did this shit pay well. They trained him well, needed muscle like him to deal with and intimidate patients into staying in line. Legal submission holds, administering tranquilizers, and security procedures. They gave him dark gray scrubs to wear, distinct from the pure white clothing he told all the patients were to wear.

It would be quiet for the most part, they assured him, and majority of the job would entail patrolling much like a security guard of sorts and ensuring the night owls stayed in line and were as free from harm as possible.

He was nervous, naturally, but was relieved to find that facility to be far tamer than anything the mainstream media wanted to convey. Most patients were disturbed and easily frightened or startled, but they weren't malicious or cruel by nature. Some would retaliate as if they were if situations got extreme he was warned, but the more Roman researched and learned about his new position, the more he realized it was due to horrible lives these people endeavored or striking out on the genetic lottery.

Usually the patients were allowed to roam the halls freely, up until curfew. Some could get passes to stay up past 10 for good behavior or some were permitted late night supervised wandering and activities in the game room if their given mental discrepancies made sleeping at night difficult. The level of freedom they were given was a fresh approach, one the head doctor of the asylum assisted on.

"They're human, Mr. Reigns, not caged animals or beasts. We treat them with respect here." And Roman appreciated that.

Which is why now, leaving his house at 8:30 PM to head out towards his new job, he felt pretty damn good in what he was doing. Helping those who suffered in some manner and working for a fair employer…well there was no shame in that, was there?

The ride doesn't seem nearly as long as he imagined and he does arrive half an hour before his shift, the aid of a nice cup of coffee and a couple energy bars ensuring he was alert and eager to work. When he finally gets buzzed in he's given a rundown of the asylum's current state tonight, that it's been quiet and whatnot by the head of night security Dustin. Dustin's a cool dude, although Roman is a little puzzled when another orderly calls him 'Goldie', but doesn't question it.

"So, you'll be in charge of the tenth floor tonight."

"Tenth? They told me at orientation and training that there are not patients on the tenth floor." Roman figures it might have just been a mix up or misunderstanding on his part.

"Well…there is only one patient that stays up there. They don't like to tell the newbies at orientation about it, but you were recruited specifically for the job." Dustin leads him to

Well now Roman is just perplexed and a bit anxious but slides his hair back into a tight bun as he locks up his hoodie, wallet, and everything else not needed for the job. "So uh, one patient, huh? Sounds like the start of a horror flick or something."

"Nah, it's…nothing like that. We house primarily non-criminal patients here. Or petty crimes like thievery or something. People who wouldn't be able to live out in society." The head security guard explains, Roman following him into the pristine elevator before he presses the top, tenth floor button. "We have one criminal patient."

"And lemme guess, that's the one I got, huh?"

"Yes, but…he's a special case. Dean, his name is. Dean Ambrose."

"Does he mind being called Dean?"

"No, not at all, but…uh, avoid using his last name or anything about parents." Dustin continues as the elevator opens to a room identical to the other patients' floors, but devoid of any other staff. "He's got a criminal record…murdered a couple of pedophiles back in the day." It's said so bluntly that Roman's head almost spins before he's partially jogging to keep up with Dustin.

"Well, uh, can't say I blame them."

"No, neither can I, but chopping people to bits and an overall sense of disassociation this kid has, well…he's just not able to function in society. Maybe one day, but it isn't any day soon. Head Doc. Rollins really thinks he can make a break through with him. I don't know if I buy it, but in the meantime, you're in charge of taking care of him, big dog."

"Uh…any special procedures?"

"Not really. At least for now. Dean's been one of his 'good moods' lately, so it's pretty much the standard procedure for any night owl patient. Monitor him, talk to him, y'know…just, keep him relaxed. Remember your walkie talkie and there's a panic button in every room on the floor."

And with that, Roman is left alone, with the singular patient room '1001' reflecting back at him.