Escape The Motherloving Nightmare - Protection Verse
It’s like a tragic scene from some dramatic play [...]
There are no stars, because it’s not the sky. Mad figured that out a long time ago. No hues of blue, or specks of light. Nothing but unending, unfeeling darkness, just out of reach. Isn’t that always the way? [...]
“I doubt we were ever meant to be a part of this.” [...] How many people had started in this game? How many bodies were buried in its soil? [...] “We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time...”
Madpat | Phantom | Natemare | Anti | Escape the Motherloving Nightmare
After his death in Everlock Dirk has been testing the limitations of his non-corporeal form.
He's still for the most part invisible to the living (there are sometimes when Mad hasn't slept for a few days where he keeps glancing Dirk's way like he can see him in his peripheral vision).
His form seems to be tethered to his brother as if he gets too far away (a few rooms away) he is overcome with anxiety.
With a good amount of focus he can move things around, and it has become his favourite little game recently to move his brother's tools somewhere else and try to illicit some kind of reaction from him. So far there's been no blowout but Dirk has nothing but time.
Former-detective Dirk Patrick is dead. Shot and killed by a possibly not-real gypsy woman as part of a convoluted murder plot that somehow managed to both succeed and fail on multiple levels. And though he hasn’t been dead for a very long period of time, he wishes to assure you, he’s been dead long enough to know with as much certainty as one can, that being dead freaking blows.
As a newborn spirit he pretty much can’t do anything. Nobody can see him, because apparently he’s not yet strong enough to be visible to the living. Touching anything is also off the table which has resulted in him falling through the seat of a chair more than once. Luckily standing up doesn’t seem to tire him at all. Which is the other thing, he doesn’t feel. Not tired, not scared, not worried, not cold or warm, he just...is.
Frankly, the only reason he’s not convinced he’s suffering in some kind of purgatory punishment right now is Natemare, his estranged brother’s supposed best friend. Apparently Natemare is dead, has been for a long time, which means that not only can the friend see Dirk, but he’s been through all this before himself and has all the little tricks to try and fast track the learning so they can reveal his presence to Lucas sooner rather than later.
Progress has been slow and Dirk’s learned far more about his brother than about being dead. Like the fact he lives in a condemned warehouse, or that all of his friends apparently hate him, or that he was known as a Madman long before he ever reached Everlock. Pretty much everything Dirk’s borne witness to so far has been somewhat of a wake-up call, and nothing more so than Lucas’s collapse.
For a brief second, as he saw his brother drop to the ground, Dirk felt panic. Short, sharp, like a stab to the chest. Nothing had come of that moment but it’s the first thing he’d felt since his death, and it’s all he can feel right now.
In a dark room that unfortunately seems likely to be his brother’s bedroom, Dirk is pacing back and forth, watching over the unmoving form of his brother laid out on a poor excuse of a single bed. The panic isn’t currently sharp or choking, more like a steady undercurrent of anxiety sitting low in his chest and despite the unpleasantness of it, the fact he’s feeling anything is kind of a relief.
The doctor and the blind man had spent a long time looking over Lucas but now they were gone and the last twenty minutes have been Dirk speaking aloud nearly every thought that passes through his head. No one can hear him, Natemare’s with the group. Apparently they’re deciding what to do with the mechanical man, which leaves the dead man alone and unseen in the room with his unconscious brother.
“You know,” Dirk eventually offers, “I think that blind man could see me.”
There’s no response, but he’s starting to get used to the silence.
“I know, I know,” he answers, waving a hand dismissively at the imagined response, “But I swear, he kept looking at me.”
Not untrue, the Host having repeatedly glanced over to the corner which Dirk had retreated to during the assessment. Except he obviously didn’t see anything. For one, he’s blind, and for two, he’s living. Still, the ever inquisitiveness of Dirk’s mind coupled with the tingle of anxiety coursing through him helps to mould a mystery out of the mayhem.
His pacing stops and he turns, frowning at his brother. “Well you’re the idiot who lives in a warehouse.”
Still nothing, but Dirk frowns, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.
“I’m not responsible for your poor life choices.”
Silence.
“Well that’s hardly my fault I-”
“You’re doing it again.” Natemare is suddenly stood beside him, also watching Lucas, face surprisingly calm. The meeting must be over.
“I am not.” Dirk protests, gesturing to his brother, “Lucas is the one….on the bed...unconscious… Ah.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Natemare places a reassuring hand on the detective’s shoulder as Dirk tries not to face palm, “the death crazies hit everyone weird.”
[So I have a poll about the next update and it would mean a heap if you answered it! If you don’t, no problem. If you do, thanks!]
Season 4 is coming to an end, but luckily for us we don’t have to wait for new content, because fanworks exist!
So why not spend the time between seasons with a big fandom event that will bring an explosion of new content? I hereby propose you…
Escape The Night: Big Bang Event!
What’s a Big Bang Event, you ask? From our FAQ:
A Big Bang Event is a collaboration between the artist and the writers of the fandom. Writer and artists get paired to make a fanfiction and illustrations for it! Then all the works get posted together during a period of time, creating an explosion of new content for all the fandom!
Thinking of joining? Take the interest check here!
“You look upset.” Shane sits on the couch, legs apart, leant forward smirking up at Joey who stands a few feet away, arms crossed, and scowling.
“He’s supposed to be dead.”
Shane chuckles, shaking his head. “If you merely wanted him dead you could have killed him yourself. You came to me, so you wanted more. Frankly, I think I’ve given you a masterpiece.”
“You’ve given me a trainwreck.” The air around Joey chills as he steps forward, jabbing an accusing finger at the stupid ass sat before him. “I nearly died in that Dragon’s Keep!!”
“Demon,” Shane corrects, “But not only did you not die, you lived to see your target suffer a devastating loss.” He shrugs sitting back again. “Big win!”
Hands on the collar of Shane’s jacket catch him off guard as Joey drags him to his feet and rages in the idiot’s face, “I am done with your fucked up game! I want him dead!”
Out of sight, the Detective stands, his brother’s droid, Léo, immediately behind him, one arm looped around Dirk’s chest to hold him still, while the other covers Dirk’s mouth to keep him quiet. They’ve heard every word and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who they’re referring to. Dirk offers no resistance as the droid quietly starts to pull him away.
The air out in the street is stale and still, and the whole town feels empty and hollow, like an empty stage in the moments before the actors get into position. Given the chaos and mayhem that they’ve witnessed tonight, it’s a harrowing and haunting contrast that sends shivers through them as the Detective and the droid stomp across the dirt..
“Where are we going?”
Léo has Dirk by the wrist, leading him straight down the main street. Though his steps are purposeful and strangely confident, Léo doesn’t have a clue where he’s going. Away, he supposed. To be honest, that’s the only real direction that matters at this point. Towards Mare would be a bonus so the three of them could pull together a plan to get out, but for Dirk’s ensured survival, ‘away’ will have to do for now.
“Somewhere safe.”
“And where’s that?” Dirk digs in his heels a little, scraping through the dirt as he resists, but the droid’s grip only tightens and his step doesn’t falter. “Where exactly are you taking me? Where in this messed up night-?”
Léo comes to a sudden stop, turning on Dirk and tugging on his wrist as he speaks calm, yet firmly.
“The game is rigged! They want you dead! Away from them,” he vaguely gestures towards the safe zone they’d left behind with his free hand, “is safe enough for now.”
A visceral growl rips through the air, and the very ground beneath them shakes. They freeze. That did not sound friendly. From the end of the street, in the direction they’d been heading a sickly green smoke oozes between the buildings, pouring in from nowhere and crawling along the street. Every nook, every crevice, every space is overwhelmed by the fog as it swallows everything in it’s path.
The next game must have begun. That’s definitely not good.
Before Dirk can react, Léo grabs him by the lapel of his jacket, not even waiting before he starts to drag them both to the nearest building. The Detective struggles a little by instinct, but as he catches a second glance of the fog, he instead just follows. It could be mustard gas, maybe some kind of acidic properties, so it’ll eat his skin as soon as it touches him. It could just as easily be green fog but given what he’s seen tonight, Dirk isn’t sure it’s something he’d wager his life on.
Léo all but throws Dirk through the door before slamming it shut behind him, leaning against it, hoping against the odds that a closed door will be enough to keep them safe. Free of the droid’s hold, Dirk brushes himself down and looks at where they’ve ended up.
Apparently they’re in some olde style sweet store. A counter lines the shop while the shelves behind them have various sweets in jars. Humbugs, rosy apples, sherbert lemons. They’ve clearly not been touched in a very long time, cobwebs strung between most of them, while inches of dust have setled around them. If this place was ever a functioning business, it’s long been abandoned.
Ignoring the suspicious insects that swarm in one of the jars, and some vague disembodied scuttling behind the counter, Dirk moves to the side of the window, clearly able to see through the grimy glass, but also able to disappear out of it’s view should the need arise.
The mist passes by without issue, not even a wisp coming through the gaps around the door or the in-no-way-airtight window, and continues down the street towards the other end of town. Once it reaches the border, the entire town is swathed in a sickly green glow.
After a few moments, a nearby streetlight flickers into life, eventually able to throw out a strong red beacon of light that cuts straight through the fog. Where the light hits the floor, a large red circle is visible. Then the next one along powers up, then the next, and the next. Before long, the street is lined with red circles, each approximately ten to twelve feet apart.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Dirk mutters. He may not know what’s going on right now, but he can figure it out. Any minute now, some creature will burst onto the scene with the singular intent of claiming the victim of the next game, and probably the best way to get around it will be by using those red lights for a safe pathway.
He glances to the door, the droid still holding it shut, possibly not able to see exactly what is going on from where he is. Dirk should probably tell him. Though before he does, there is one thing he really needs to know.
“Why did you kill him?”
Léo blanks, turning at the strange question. It’s a little out of a nowhere but given the inherent curiosity of humans not entirely. “You really think this is the time for that question?”
“That’s not an answer.” Dirk turns to look back out the window again, purposefully avoiding the droid’s gaze. It’s still really creepy how much like him Léo looks.
“One of you had to die.”
“No we didn’t.” Strong but firm, leaving little room for argument, yet the droid rolls his eyes, seemingly unbothered by the confidence.
“This entire world is built around the purpose of murder. One of you had to die.” He speaks with just as much confidence and conviction, but with a touch of familiar pig-headedness and a dash of arrogance. So much like Lucas. “Besides, Mad wanted me to shoot him.”
“Mad?”
A loud shout from the streets draws their attention outside once more.
At the end of the street, towards the part of town they’ve not really reached yet, stands a figure. Too human to be a monster, and half-carrying another person with them as they slog through the fog. Whoever’s being carried is unfamiliar, but the other one...
“Abe?”
Dirk stares in disbelief before he rushes for he door, easily pulling the droid away despite his protests, tearing it open and rushing out into the fog.
Running out into the toxic-looking mist is pretty high on the list of Dirk’s Dumbest Ideas, but the thought of a friendly face is too much to ignore. A break, that’s all he wants, one little break in this face of monstrosities and nightmares, one chance, that’s all he’s hoping for as he screeches to a stop in the beacon of the nearest streetlight.
His heart is hammering in his chest, his stomach in his throat and eyes sore and tired as he blinks furiously. They...they’re gone….but he could’ve sworn-
Dirk’s thoughts are interrupted by Léo’s shout, the Detective quickly turning to see Safiya, not ten feet away, stood in the soupy green mist with one hand firmly gripping the droid’s arm while the other is tightly grasped over it’s mouth.
“Safiya? What are you-?”
“You’re a smart kid Dirk.” Léo is tense in her grip, eyes wide as one hand tries desperately to pry her hand away from his mouth, but she doesn’t seem even remotely bothered by his efforts, “Think about it.”
Dirk stares, torn between the urge to tear the droid from her grip, and the instinct to stay safe in the red light. He didn’t get this far to fall...at the last….wait...
This night has been filled with so many games, so much death, destruction and loss. How many times has he watched two people leave, for only one to return? Everyone, every single person has done it once. Except Joey...Shane...and Safiya. None of them have faced a death challenge. Not one of them had to fight for their life and come out the victor. They’ve always been safe, spared the danger of the challenges. How did he never notice that? Which means-
“You’re a part of this.”
His voice is surprisingly calm as he runs a hand down his face, his heart racing. Four survivors in this Game, and the only person he can reasonably trust at this point is the droid who shot his brother who isn’t even a player! It’s a lot to process and he can feel the pressure building at the base of his chest as he fights to hold it together, just a little longer. He’ll be of no use if he breaks right now.
The side of Safiya’s mouth quirks at the corner, gently pulling into a soft yet somehow still sinister smirk. “I’m a part of something, but I don’t want you dead.”
“Then what do you want?”
“What I came here for. But I need bait.”
Dirk shivers, like someone just walked over his grave, and Léo tries harder to twist himself free from her grip as he realises what she means. The Detective just stares .
The Detective pulls the note from the box he’s just unlocked, holding it aloft as he reads it.
‘Kill yourself or kill your friend, you decide how this one ends.’
Beneath the paper confetti, a bright pink loaded revolver sits, waiting. No frills, no flair. Just a gun, and a choice.
As he pulls it from the box, all about him is chaos, loud noises, streamers, confetti, confusion, weirdness and mess that he honestly can’t keep up with. This place is a nightmare and the worst part of it is his brother, Lucas, on the other side of the arena, still pawing through boxes. The Madman hasn’t noticed the gun and doesn’t seem to hear someone outside of the game screaming for Dirk to just shoot him already.
And he should, after all how much of his brother is left in there? Sharp taloned fingers, both arms, both eyes, his hair, nearly every visible part of him is this slick shiny black. All that remains is the majority of the left side of his face. Dirk raises the revolver, squaring it up to shoot at Lucas’s chest.
It would almost be a mercy wouldn’t it? Releasing his brother from the sickness that’s consuming him? I mean he looks like a monster, and it’s taken a while, but now Dirk sees that unmistakable sheen to the blackness that covers him. The kind of sheen you only really see on ink…. Lucas is sick, and Dirk knows where it came from.
Still, seconds tick by, and he just can’t squeeze the trigger.
Lucas has noticed by now, tossing his own key aside and raising his arms to his sides in a show of surrender, though the scowl on his face never leaves. He’s probably figured out what’s going on.
“Come on then!”
This game started with how many people? Twenty? Thirty? He can’t remember any more, the night dragging on forever, the pain and the loss all blurring together in an unending stream of hurt and suffering. His sanity has only survived this long by simply washing his hands of what’s happened. He’s not the one who’s killed these people. It’s the game! It’s the monsters! They’re the one who put them in here! It’s all their fault! Not his!
Except….
How hard has he fought to try and keep people alive? How many people did he allow to walk to their possible deaths knowing one of them won’t come back? Dirk has had so many chances, so many chances, to stop this, or at least to try, and he never has. Not once. The only difference is this time, they’ve literally put the trigger in his hand.
“COWARD!”
Dirk’s aim wavers. Can he do this? Can he actually shoot and kill someone? Does life really mean so little to him? ….No. Someone has to draw the line. Someone has to say ‘Enough is enough’ and at this point, he’s the only one who can. He lowers the gun, closing his eyes as he lets out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
“What are you doing?”
“I won’t do this.” He tosses the gun aside. It clatters to the floor and lays there. He won’t use it. “I won’t be a part of this sick game any more.”
Lucas points a clawed finger across at him, anger peeling off him as he shouts, “You know killing me is the right choice!”
Dirk shakes his head. “I don’t know that.”
“They’ll kill you if you don’t!”
If Dirk didn’t know any better, he might think his brother sounded desperate, but even so, the Detective shrugs, “Then I guess it’s my turn to die.”
Lucas screams, a loud human, gutteral scream of frustration. He’s supposed to be smart! This is the only option! The game makers aren’t going to let them create a third one! If they don’t play by the rules, then Dirk is going to die and, with Liza’s screams echoing in his head, Lucas refuses to let that happen.
“Then I have one thing to say...” The two of them stare at each other across the chaos, Dirk determined, Lucas angry. This is not going to end well. “Activate Protocol 12.”
“….what?”
Lucas launches himself across the arena, Dirk barely having time to react. They collide with a horrid thud, falling to the ground. Talons slash, over and over, cutting and tearing at the Detective’s leather jacket. His cries are more from shock than actual pain. When the flailing stops, Lucas has the upper hand, pinning his brother to the floor, one hand around Dirk’s neck, the Detective’s fingers trying to hold them from just breaking his neck. Everyone watches with bated breath as a clawed hand raises, priming to strike, to tear out the Detective’s stomach when-
BANG
Lucas drops, a dead weight on top of the Detective. The grip on his neck loosens and Dirk turns to see Lucas’s droid inside the arena, the discarded gun in his hands, smoking barrel pointed at the two of them.
“What are you-?”
BANG
BANG
BANG
The weight on top of him shakes with each impact and Dirk flinches, amazed that none of the bullets hit him but still staring in shock, completely at a loss.
Gun still raised, the droid strides over, using its foot to kick the slumped form off the Detective, keeping the weapon trained on him as it bends down and drags Dirk to his feet.
Dirk grips at the hand on his shoulder, feet scrabbling as he stands, stepping back, mind gripped by shock as he stares at the body on the floor. Lucas doesn’t move. He doesn’t shift or shake, doesn’t breathe or even twitch. He’s dead.
“You killed him.”
“Trust me,” the droid turns him around so Dirk can’t see any more, hand still gripping tightly. It doesn’t trust the boy to stay back from the ‘body’, so it will hold on until they leave this place in the dust, and the sooner the better, “he’s not dead.”
“Not dead? You shot him!” Dirk tries to pry the droid’s fingers from his jacket but it’s pointless, and they continue to leave the arena.
“Well you weren’t going to.” The droid’s voice sounds smoother than Dirk remembers, more human. There is definite snark in there that wasn’t there before, and that scowl has to be something it learned from Lucas because to this point, it’s done nothing but smile.
Calliope says something before they leave but Dirk doesn’t listen,. He knows what happened and at this point he doesn’t care. He was trying to do good, to do the right thing and it still went sideways. Now there’s this dull ache in his stomach, just beneath the slowly amassing pile of survivor’s guilt, and he doesn’t see an end to this horrible nnight..
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The room is filled with workbenches, shelves, and various random items, seemingly hundreds of them scattered across every surface. It was probably abandoned several years ago if the dust and cobwebs are any indicator. Everything in the room speaks of steampunk stylings, except for the damaged droid to one end of the room. Humanoid, gear and cog-free, completely devoid of dust and spiders, and one arm disconnected from the main chassis, it’s undeniably the most hi-tech thing in the room and just doesn’t match the main punky aesthetic. Oh, and with it’s slim face, brown hair, and blank brown eyes, it just so happens to look exactly like Dirk and Lucas. Something that doesn’t unnerve the Detective at all. Nope.
The Madman himself is on the opposite side of the room, handcuffed to a surprisingly strong pipe. His arm is stretched as far as he can get it, while a nasty red welt is visible beneath the cuff where he’s all but broken his wrist in an attempt to pull free, The idiot ran head first into a trap in an earlier room and was already restrained when they came in.
The rest of the remaining group are scattered throughout the room, scouring through every item they can in a desperate search for the final piece that Calliope has tasked them with finding. The aim is to find the pieces that will allow them to fix the droid, but this small, black gear is impossible to find and they’re running out of time.
It’s unspoken but understood by everyone that if they don’t find this piece, then Lucas is probably going to die. Not that the infected man seems bothered by this, his attention completely consumed by the robot, watching it with an eagle eye and yelling to the others that they need to fix it. Of course Dirk’s brother is more concerned with the machine than his own safety.
As he circles the room, the Detective repeatedly glances between the doppelganger droid and his brother. It doesn’t take too much of a stretch to guess that machine-mad Lucas probably made it. As for why it looks like them, well that’s not something he really wants to dwell on.
“You are out of time.” Calliope calls out and everyone turns. She has spent the time quietly circling the room, collecting the items as the team bring them to her, holding them safely in her hands. As the others gather, their faces are solemn, angered at being unable to find the final part. Meanwhile, Calliope moves towards Lucas, plucking a key from a nearby shelf before unlocking the handcuff that restrains him.
Everyone watches in silent confusion as the Madman glares with his black empty eyes at the gypsy, rubbing absently at his wrist until she nods gesturing across the room. He doesn’t need telling twice and all but launches himself across the room, sliding to a stop on his knees beside the droid. Joey, the Savant, has to leap out the way to avoid getting knocked aside as Lucas dashes past.
The others soon start to fight, arguing back and forth, throwing around the finger of blame like it’s going to explode in their face at any moment. Dirk’s attention though is focused on his brother as he steps closer.
Over the years he’s always been mildly fascinated by his brother’s works. The various machines that he would make, or take apart. Just what was it about them? What was the appeal? How did he approach it? Lucas has always been kind of secretive so growing up he’d never really had a chance to watch and this is an opportunity too rare to pass up.
Panicked hands quickly pass over the chassis, carefully pull it together before reaching to grab something from a nearby workbench. Each movement is clearly calculated, no motion wasted, though he’s clearly frantic, fingers shaking, continually muttering to himself, though Dirk can’t hear a word he says. Once in a while something slips from his fingers, but it doesn’t discourage him, picking it up and continuing as though it never happened. It’s probably the calmest, and most in control he’s seen his brother in a good number of years.
Lucas stretches for something nearby, but it’s just out of reach, still the Madman strains. Without thinking, Dirk steps over and picks it up holding it out for his brother to take. They lock eyes and Lucas stares at him a moment, honestly looking kind of monstrous with his clawed fingers and eyes, still he carefully takes the item from his brother.
It continues on like this, Lucas describing a part as best he can, voice angry but muted, clearly struggling to hold it together while Dirk will fetch it for him. Within five minutes, the Madman is carefully reattaching the arm and must flick a switch or something because suddenly life sparks within the droid’s dead eyes, the cold brown quickly becoming warm as it blinks up at them.
Looking between the two brothers, the droid frowns.
“This can’t be good.” it comments, eyes flitting to Lucas before sitting up. “Mad?”
Dirk frowns, glancing to his brother. “Mad?”
“Damage assessment.” Lucas instructs.
The droid closes its eyes, its head tilting slightly. “Nothing structurally, minimal software corruption.” It opens its eyes again and levels a familiar glare at Lucas. “Where’s Mare?”
“This is-” Dirk gently shakes his head, honestly not sure how to react to anything at this point, but then something clicks and he swings around to look to the others. “Wait.”
Across the room, beyond the others still bickering, Calliope still stands, hands calmly folded and still clasping the items they’d gathered. Dirk hadn’t needed to go to her for a single thing.
“Quiet!” Leaping to his feet, his shout silences the others as they turn to him in confusion. “This wasn’t a normal game.”
“What?” Safiya, the Investigative Reporter, glances between them.
“We didn’t find the last piece, so the droid should be unfixable.” Dirk gestures over his shoulder to the functioning droid. “But we didn’t even need those parts. So what were we even doing?”
“Very observant, Detective.” Calliope congratulates him, giving a sly smile as she carefully places the items in her hand on a nearby table. “This was a trap. To catch the saboteur.”
Shane, the Rogue, steps towards the gypsy, a face like thunder. “Wait, someone’s screwing with the game?”
“Of course there are no cameras in Everlock, so we had to bring in a little outside help.” she gestures towards the droid. Lucas has managed to climb to his feet, clawed black hand curled protectively as he purposefully places himself firmly in front of the robot.
“I don’t much appreciate people messing with my property.” he almost growls.
Calliope ignores the barely veiled threat and instead addresses the droid directly.
“Galileo. Who has the final piece?”
The droid has one hand on the Madman’s shoulder, as though it intends to hold him back, though none of them think it would have the strength to do it. At the request it glances to Lucas, who’s a bit hyperfocused on the gypsy.
“Mad?” It asks.
Barely turning to glance over his shoulder, Lucas gives a slight nod and the droid raises his hand and points. Everyone holds their breath in that moment, time seeming to run slow as the finger draws upwards, crossing through the air before coming to rest….
On the Explorer.
“She has the gear in her pocket.” the droid says.
Everyone turns
“Liza?” Joey asks, putting out an arm to stop Shane who steps forward, anger on his face.
The Explorer looks between them, her face becoming stony as she takes a step back from them “I did what I thought I had to.”
“By messing with the game?” Shane practically spits the words out and tries again to step forward, but Joey turns and forces him back muttering to him.
Safiya speaks up. “You know, someone could have died.”
“That’s probably what she was going for.” The droid has managed to gently push Lucas to one side, and keeps one hand on his shoulder. “I’ve only been active about five minutes but from what I can gather, she most likely intended for someone to suffer permanent consequences for the task’s failure.
“She’s voted for me in the last four death challenges.” Lucas comments.
“That’s supposed to be private.” Liza’s fists are clenched at her sides in anger as she glares at him.
“Then maybe you should try not being obvious.”
“Look at him!” Liza blurts, desperately looking between the others. “Look at what is happening to him! As long as he’s in the game, none of us are safe! He-!”
Flames burst into life around her and Liza’s words are lost in a soul-twisting scream of agony while the others leap away. She writhes and twists as though held in place as they cruelly lash at her, rising high around her before finally extinguishing, allowing the Explorer’s charred corpse to fall to the ground.
Behind her, Calliope stands, hand raised to where Liza had been stood, a stern look on her face.
“Obey the rules and you may survive..” There is no room for questions in her tone. It’s not up for debate.
Nobody says a word. They stand in shocked silence until Calliope leads them out.
There are five of them left. Well five, and one droid. Is the droid now in the game? Lucas has this look that says it’s not going to happen. Either way, the numbers are low, and though it’s been a long night, the risk suddenly feels that more real. How many of them are even going to survive? Is this going to be last man standing?
Dirk shudders as though someone has just walked over his grave. There’s this awful feeling, just in the base of his gut, that he might not make it through this.
Silence reigns as they approach the great granite doorway stood in the middle of a clearing on the far edge of town. It’s attached to no building, but they’ve all learned by now that that means nothing. There’s a large stone stood to either side of the doorway, the outer sides each sporting four colored buttons.
The premise is simple. Two of them, selected by vote, will remain behind, keeping the door open by sharing and inputting the color codes that light up on the opposite stone. So long as they enter the correct codes in time, the doors will remain open. Meanwhile, the rest of the group will pass through the doorway to retrieve the artefact from the Demon’s Keep. For every mistake made, a gong will sound and the door will begin to close. Once the doors shut they will not be opening again.
“Wait,” Shane is more than a little concerned as he unconsciously steps back, “Are you saying there’s a chance we could basically all die in this?”
“You say that like you’re surprised.” Lucas, the Madman, is bringing up the rear, wearing the same look of disinterest that he’s worn for every task that has lead them here.
This vote isn’t like the others. They’re not voting for someone to die, they’re voting for who is going to keep the rest of them alive. Even so it’s not easy to keep the underlying angers, grudges, and annoyance from their minds as they each cast their vote.
The Savant is the first to be drawn, definitely uneasy and not sure whether to feel relieved that he has no chance of dying, or afraid that he has so many lives resting in his hands.
No one is surprised as Calliope raises the Madman’s card, a perfect recreation of Lucas’s face, right down to the aggravated black lines across his skin. Everyone, save for his brother is honestly a little afraid of him. Why is he in this game? How can he care so little about the consequences? You’d be hard pressed to find someone who would find it a shame were he to die.
Dirk stares at his brother, trying to get a read on him, but there’s nothing but stoic annoyance on the idiot’s face. It takes quite a shove from Ro to finally get Dirk’s attention, the Jet-Setter raising her eyebrows and very not-subtley inclining her head at Lucas.
The two of them had had a brief talk earlier, away from the rest of the group. A quiet discussion in which she heavily implied that Lucas is not being entirely truthful about something and maybe Dirk should try and get it out of him. No doubt she thinks this might be the perfect opportunity for the two of them to talk.
“Wait,” The Detective steps forward, a hand raised, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I volunteer to take Joey’s place.”
“You can’t do that.” Liza says sternly, honestly just wanting to go through that door and back again. The sooner this starts, the sooner it will be over.
“I don’t mind!” Joey interjects, and everyone turns to Calliope.
She glances between them all, pausing before saying, “If everyone agrees.”
Before the group has a chance to devolve into chaotic arguments that just waste time they probably don’t have, Dirk raises his hands and speaks firmly and confidently.
“Has anyone heard of the single-soul theory?”
The general confusion would suggest the answer is probably no, though Safiya gets a curious look on her face. Not surprising; of the group, she’s the one Dirk would expect to have at least heard of it. But the only response he’s watching for is his brother’s
You can practically hear the cogs turn as the unspoken message is received and Lucas shrugs.
“I say we let him do it.”
The twins each step up to one of the stones, able to see over them to the other side while the group stands in nervous anticipation between them. Nobody trusts the apparent simplicity of this task, there’s probably something very sinister at work here but there’s no time to dwell.
“Blue, red, green, green.” Lucas calls out the first code and Dirk punches it in on his stone.
The doors swing wide, neither of the twins able to see through it from their standpoint, only able to watch as the group walks through.
“Green, blue, yellow, red.” Dirk calls back.
Time passes, both of them losing track of it as they continue to put in the codes. The air between them is tense and awkward but they’re used to it by now.
Lucas is the one to break the silence.
“I didn’t think you believed in the single-soul theory.”
A widely speculated but mostly unsubstantiated theory that twins are born as a single soul shared between two bodies. As they grow, they become more individual while managing to maintain a mental and spiritual closeness that is unobserved in the rest of the population.
“Neither of us has said a single color in the last five minutes,” Dirk points out, “yet we haven’t missed a code.”
He would hardly call himself a believer of the theory, but he’s more of a skeptic than a naysayer. Maybe when they were younger, when they did everything together, and people struggled to tell them apart, he would have believed it but when they were about twelve years old, something changed. Dirk had assumed it was something to do with puberty, or maybe there was something in their environment, but Lucas started to push him away. He started to push everyone away no matter how hard they tried to reach him, and after what happened at Drew Studios, everything just fell to Heck.
Reaching across he presses the yellow button, then green, then the blue twice, his hand guided by instinct. After a moment, his lights blink out a new sequence; the code was correct. Yeah, there’s definitely something here.
“Why did you really volunteer?” Lucas asks as he puts in the next code, unprompted.
“Ro said you keep getting this look,”
“What look?”
“Like you’re hiding something.”
“Ah. So you want to keep an eye on me.”
Dirk glances up at his brother. Lucas is skinny, clearly unwell, his hair’s all over the place and even beyond that he has an air of scruffiness about him. Though the guy has been AWOL for the last few years, and Dirk won’t even pretend to know what happened to him, he can see that Ro was right. There’s just….something this guy isn’t saying.
“What I want is to help you.”
The laugh Lucas gives is hollow and almost makes Dirk want to punch him. “I’m beyond your help, little brother.”
Dirk scowls. “You’re the little brother.”
A shriek beyond the door, snaps both their attention to it.
“Was that-?”
“Dirk, what’s the code?”
Whatever link they may have had before is broken, the Madman staring blankly at the lights, blindly reaching for the instinct that had been driving him before, but grasping at nothing. His anxiety quickly spikes. Dirk is distracted, oblivious, staring at the door.
“Dirk!” Lucas snaps, finally getting his brother’s attention long enough to look at the code.
“Yellow, red, bl-” he starts.
A high-pitched scream sounds from beyond and that’s it. The Detective slams his hand on top of the stone, easily vaulting it in one leap and rushing for the door. As he passes just through the arch, a loud gong sounds. They’ve missed a code.
He skids to a stop as the doors slightly close in on him, just barely past the arch, hearing Lucas shouting obscenities but it’s too late at this point, the only thing they can do is make sure the others make it through the door in time.
Beyond the door is an empty grey hallway that turns off a short way down the path, filled with a foul stench that the Detective would rather not identify, though it’s strong enough to topple an army. If he were to guess, this hallway is near the heart of the Demon’s Keep and the group can’t be that far away.
Dirk cups his hands round his mouth and shouts, his voice bouncing off the walls. Within less than a minute, Safiya, Alex, and Liza speed into view, all of them passing Dirk without a second thought as he continues to call out. Shane isn’t far behind, carrying the artefact, only stopping for a second as Dirk grabs a hold of his arm.
“Where’s Ro?”
“I don’t know,” Shane gasps, not really comfortable being stopped so close to being on the good side of the door, “She was with Joey.” With that the Renegade pulls out his grip and runs through the door.
Another gong sound and the doors close a little more again. There’s just barely enough room for a person to pass through at this point, and after the next one, the doors will close.
That’s all the motivation he needs, ready to dash forward and carry the others back to the door if he has to. Before he can even take a step, firm and desperate fingers grasp tightly to the Detective’s wrist, holding fast and not allowing him to move even slightly.
Lucas, having slid through the small gap in the doors has a tight hold of his brother and tries to drag him back through. There’s no reason for all of them to die.
“Let me go!” The Detective rages, twisting and turning in an attempt to break free. He’s sick of all this death. Is it too much to want to finish one game with every single person still breathing? Is that such a crime! Is that such a bad thing! But Lucas is nothing if not stubborn, holding tight and refusing to let go. Of course it’s beyond his understanding. Why would a murderer understand!
‘What happened to murderer?’
Dirk’s struggle stumbles as he realises what he’s just thought, unintentionally proving his brother’s distrust of him right. Lucas takes full advantage of it, bending to throw the Detective over his shoulder and just barely managing to squeeze them both through the barely open doorway, just as the final gong sounds. The doors thud shut behind them.
Everyone is gasping as Dirk is thrown to the floor, each of them shaking with adrenaline and fear, none of them okay with what they’ve just lived through.
“I’m sorry.” They all jump, having forgotten Calliope was still there, turning to her with looks of utter heartbreak. “The Jet-Setter did not make it.”
Joey steps from beside the door, clearly shaken and afraid. He must have slipped by while the brothers were fighting.
Dirk’s movements are slow as he pushes himself to stand again, chest awash with a hateful mix of confusion and anger. She didn’t deserve this! She didn’t deserve to be left behind! If Lucas would have just-
A loud -SMACK- splits the air as the Madman’s hand slaps the Detective across the face. A hand raised to his reddened cheek, Dirk stares in shock as his brother begins to scream at him.
“I needed the fucking code!” the pure rage pushes everyone but Dirk away. “And why did you run in-”
Words devolve into heavy coughing, Lucas seemingly choking on his own anger as he screams, only the words aren’t continuing and the coughing only gets worse.
A hand against Dirk’s chest shoves him back as the Madman bends double practically hacking his lungs inside out while he attempts to drag any amount of breathable air into them.
When he straightens up, his right eye is almost completely black, while the veins that litter his already too pale skin have stretched even further across it.
Everyone stares, none of them sure of how to process whatever it is they’ve just witnessed. As Lucas looks over them all, they step back, a predatory look in his eyes and a shiver running down their backs. Only the Detective stands firm, meeting his brother’s stern glare with his own look of determination.
“We should leave.” Lucas growls, a strange and honestly terrifying gutteral tone to his voice that none of them have heard before. With a scowl, the Madman steps forward, around his brother, striding angrily towards the others who part before him like the red sea.
Once he’s gone, the strange oppressive feeling they hadn’t noticed in the last few minutes is suddenly gone and they all share worried looks.
“Is it just me or does anyone else not feel safe around that guy?” Joey asks.
Lucas “Mad” Patrick is Dirk’s estranged brother, and despite every shred of evidence that points to the crimes of his brother, he does not know if he can truly call his brother a criminal. There’s something in his gut that tells him there is more to it, but he has made no personal effort to research the Drew Studios incident, afraid of what he may find out to be true.
