“Jonathan?” Stanley appeared in the hallway, just as Jonathan had asked him to. He held the note of apology folded neatly in his hand.
Jonathan was there indeed, standing quietly in front of Stanley’s old room. He was wearing his old suit once again, complete with red tie and the jacket, which Stanley couldn’t help but find a bit odd.
Did he dress up just to talk to him?
“I got your letter,” he began, approaching his former Narrator. “I…I also don’t want us to fight anymore. I don’t like how you talk to my friends, or how you treat them, but if you’re really willing to work on it, I can-“
“Stanley.” Jonathan interrupted flatly.
“…what?”
“I came here to apologize.”
“…oh! Yes, right, sorry.” Sheepishly, Stanley tucked the note away and waited.
In his mind, he had little reason to doubt Jonathan’s intentions. The note was sincere and Jonathan was powerless right now, so there was no way this was a trap, or anything. Jon simply wanted to apologize. If anything strange happened, he could teleport away fast, right?
Jonathan bowed his head, his eyes oddly dim.
"I wanted to apologize, Stanley, as I've said before. For hurting you. I let you stray too far from my control. I failed to look after my Protagonist when I should've, and instead let them mess with your head."
Stanley frowned at that, but Jon just continued.
"They don’t see it, but I care about you deeply. I love you, still. And, as you refuse to cooperate with me...this is necessary. For both of us.
"What? What's that supposed to mean."
"..." Jonathan stayed silent.
Well, alright, Stanley decided. This was getting too strange. He was leaving.
He spun around, ready to teleport, but the familiar rush never came. He realized he was still standing in the exact same spot as before and everything was silent.
Jonathan just watched him, yet the emotion from his eyes had drained and that alone freaked Stanley out even more.
He turned to run away, only to smack right into someone else. The stranger grabbed his shoulders firmly and kept him in place.
It was a woman he was certain he had never seen before. She was incredibly tall, her face sharp and strict, yet her eyes glowed a warm navy blue.
Glowed, just like Jonathan’s did.
He was in trouble now.
She forced him back to face Jonathan and said something to him in that strange tongue of theirs, to which the other replied calmly, approaching Stanley as he struggled against her grip.
Jonathan grabbed his hands firmly in his own and leaned down; there was a hint of pity in his voice as he said, “Take my advice, dear, and don’t struggle. It’s not worth it.”
“No! I’m not letting you take your powers back! I refuse to give them to you! You will only hurt other people with them, again!” Stanley yanked at Jon’s grip, but found it impossible to free himself.
The air around them grew heavy and lazy, entering a slow, syrup dream, as the surrounding sounds became much clearer than usual. He could hear the woman speak again in a soft, melodic tone that held the sharpness of broken glass and a strange, rhythmic sound of machinery right underneath him.
Jonathan squeezed his hands gently.
That snapped him back to focus and Stanley tried yelling for help at the top of his lungs, squirming in their stone grip.
It didn’t take long for the aches to set in, as his vision went blurry and the odd noises became louder, too loud to stand anymore. The skin of his hands started to sting terribly and it spread the more he struggled, growing from a dull pain, to a full on throb and eventually it felt like every inch of him was on fire.
The more it hurt, the more desperate Stanley got to free himself, but with every yank and tug, it felt as if he was pulling at broken bones and waves of nausea and agony shot up through him.
He didn’t realize he was crying until his voice went hoarse from screaming.
“Stanley,” he heard someone say but their voice was muffled right next to him. He couldn’t recognize the voice above the deafening noises of engines working below his feet and the high ring somewhere at the back of his head.
Then, suddenly, it all stopped.
Reality snapped back into focus and Stanley collapsed onto the ground in a trembling heap as Jonathan pulled his hands away, inspecting them calmly.
The woman stepped over him to join Jon’s side, peering at him with feigned disinterest.
“It worked.” She intoned plainly in clear English.
“Of course it worked,” Jonathan responded. He sounded very pleased. “Things are rightfully restored again, Maelle, isn’t it wonderful.”
“Not everything is finished yet.” Maelle said.
“Oh, yes. That.” Jon glanced down at Stanley.
The employee was curled into a miserable ball, whimpering in pain and the shame of knowing he had single handedly let everyone he loves down. If only he had resisted more, if only he had stayed away.
Who knows what Jonathan might do to them now, and it was going to be all his fault.
He felt Jonathan’s pitying gaze on him, but he didn’t care.
“Stanley.”
No, he was going to stay here on the floor and never move again.
“Stanley.” Jonathan said more firmly.
“Come. I have something to show you. …trust me, this is something you need to see.” He added quietly as Stanley still refused to get up, but something in his voice made the brunette halt.
Shakily, reluctantly, Stanley climbed to his feet and Jonathan steadied him, as gentle and kind as ever. His expression lacked any compassion, he looked at Stanley as if he was a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse, and there was nothing he could do to make it any easier for him.
Stanley wiped his tears on his sleeve and stole a glance at the woman, who was watching them. She seemed…amused. The realization made him sick to his stomach and he turned away.
Jonathan took his hand and started leading him back through the familiar hallways. The eeriness of the entire situation kept Stanley silent.
He followed obediently. There was nothing he could do anyway.
They wandered down the corridors, taking turns until Stanley couldn’t recognize the area anymore, but that was impossible, he knew every part like the back of his hand.
Jonathan stopped in front of a seemingly random door that Stanley knew led to a usual old Office room.
Yet as Jon opened it, the broken file cabinets and paper scattered floor was gone. In its place, there were large, concrete stairs leading down a poorly lit escalier.
“This way,” Jonathan said simply.
Stanley hesitated. “What’s down there?” He demanded, but it came out more than a scared plea.
“Something I need to show you, dear.” The Narrator turned and headed down. A light shove from behind told Stanley he had no other option, so he tucked his head in and followed Jon, trying to quell his fears from rising.
He’s going to torture me.
He has all my friends prisoner and is torturing them.
It’s an Exit to the Outside and he only wanted his powers back before setting me free.
…
Okay, as lovely as that sounds, even Stanley knew that couldn’t be possible.
Then again, it could explain Jon’s grim behavior. So….maybe?
But the stairs did not lead to fresh, green fields and an open blue sky.
It led to what looked like an underground bunker, with weak incandescent lights illuminating the grey, concrete walls and large steel doors.
One of them seemed to be broken, but Stanley couldn’t get a look inside as Jon and the woman hurried him along. Though he thought he heard Jon grumble something about Bradley’s shenanigans.
Was he down here?
They halted at a corner, the last section of the hallway shrouded completely in darkness, yet Stanley was sure he could see a door at the end. It was thicker than the rest, and was guarded by an alarm.
Jonathan disabled it and went inside as Stanley and the woman waited outside. There was some sort of smoke curling around the room that smelled extremely bitter and stung Stanley’s skin, but whatever Jonathan was doing, it shrank away, back into vents like an animal retreating.
All that was left was a large empty room, save for a giant, metal case standing in the middle.
It looked very much alike a coffin.
Jonathan turned around to face Stanley and his expression got very serious.
The woman moved and shut the door behind them. The lock clicked twice.
Stanley paled and suddenly whatever calm he had gathered was out the window. He backed away from the metal case – whatever was inside, he did NOT want to know and he sure as hell wasn’t getting in there either!
His entire body was trembling in terror as he pressed himself against the wall, hoping against hope that someone would come in and save him from whatever Jonathan had planned, or that maybe he’d die of a heart attack and safely restart back in his room.
“Stanley,” Jonathan frowned, taking a step forward. “Stanley, don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Stay away from me!”
“…” Jon glanced at his accomplice. She just stared back. After a moment of silence, Jon sighed heavily and shook his head.
The woman went back to the door and unlocked it, but kept it shut. They were not taking the chance of anyone’s prying eyes discovering the secrets in this strange vault far underneath the ground.
“We’re not going to hurt you.” Jonathan said again. “I am going to show you something. A secret I’ve been keeping from you ever since we met, Stanley.”
“…you aren’t going to lock me inside?” Stanley asked quietly after a moment.
“What? No, I’m not. That would be the most ridiculous idea ever.”
“….” Stanley relaxed slightly, and stepped away from the wall. Alright, it was a rather stupid idea. If he went missing, people would go looking for him anyway. There was no way Jon could get away with that.
Seeing Stanley deciding to cooperate for now, Jon’s expression softened. He gave him one sad smile, before heading back and going to work on the case.
After a moment of fiddling with the door, Jon stepped back and it swung open.
Not being able to help his curious nature at heart, Stanley leaned forward to see what it was.
…
“…”
His heart stopped.
His eyes went wide and his brain just could not catch up with what his eyes were telling it.
It- it was impossible, absurd - the lack of an explanation sent his mind reeling.
Inside the steel container was a small room, lit up by an automatic lamp that turned on dutifully as soon as the door opened.
Jonathan was not going to stuff him into this metal coffin.
…
Because there already was a Stanley inside.
Not just anyone -- it was him.
Stanley Sommers, his unconscious form held up by loose chains looped around his arms, sharp wires digging into his wrists, temples, feet and right into his heart. His eyes were closed, but it was Stanley. It was himself, hanging there like a corpse as pulsating wires weaved in and out of his body.
“Stanley Darcy Sommers, Employee 427 here at the Office,” Jonathan said quietly, reverently, as if he was mourning the state of this person.
“A bright, clever young man. With his father recently passing away, he had to get a job to uphold the house he didn’t want to sell, as it was the one he had grown up in. He was a loyal employee, withdrawn and quiet, yet his colleagues never had a bad word to say about him.”
Despite everything, Stanley looked peaceful. He seemed unperturbed by the wires, the chains, the small prison Jonathan had placed him in. The tag Employee 427 still clung to his shirt.
“October 13 2013, everything changed. Stanley came to work one day to realize all of his colleagues had mysteriously disappeared…but you know the drill, dear. But despite the perfect role he had to play in the Parable, he was unwilling to participate. He broke the Game again and again. He let me blow up the entire Facility. He locked himself up in the broom closet, he stayed in the museum for hours on end, refusing to come out.”
“Similar to your friend Bratley, he was insufferable. I couldn’t work with this. I couldn’t have a Protagonist that was so keen on destroying all of my hard work. It wouldn’t have been an issue if the Parable was written for anyone else, but it was written for him. It was a gift, a privilege. I poured my heart and soul into the script, I loved him. I wanted him to understand what I had done for him, so that he would no longer try and fight me with every word, but that he would let me guide him…to freedom.”
Jonathan's voice had gotten quiet, taken on a raw tone. His eyes were dimmer than they've ever been, and despite this being his very own doing, he looked incredibly upset.
“But he wouldn’t have it. So, I had to find a solution.” The Narrator straightened up and the sorrowful expression was gone. He looked down at the Stanley beside him, who was watching wide eyed, unmoving.
"I needed someone to take Stanley's place. A new Protagonist. But I couldn’t just take anyone. Besides the immorality of replacing him with an ordinary human being, there was still the risk that they would go the very same path as he had done."
…
"So...I created you."
"What?" Stanley came to life and whipped around to stare at Jon.
“You see, you aren’t his ghost, or his twin human as you were probably thinking, nor are you a holographic image of what he is, as it’s like with your friend Stacey. You are merely an illusion. A perfect Protagonist. One that loved the Story, one that understood that it was something special.”
Jon paused. His eyes softened with affection. “You were everything I wanted. Sweet, patient, lovely. Pure. Trusting. You would believe my words and you would trust me to guide you. You were perfect, Stanley. You are perfect.”
“No, you’re- this is a joke. This is a prank, isn’t it? You’re lying to me! It’s not funny, I am real, I’m a real human being!”
Ignoring his tearful outburst, Jon continued. “But then, you were led astray. By the employees, the other Narrators. They turned you against me, told you I was just using you for my own good. You made friends with the very enemies of our Story, Stanley. You let a bunch of humans create your conscience, but you aren’t a human. You aren’t anything. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“No! Stop it- I-” The rest of his words were drowned out in bitter sobs again.
“I’m sorry, Stanley. I should’ve protected you from their venom.”
“St-stop…”
“And I will promise you, it will never happen again. This time, this time I will take good care of you. Everything will go back to how it was before. You and me, and the Parable. We will be together again, the Story will be ours.”
“I d-don’t, I don’t want to…”
Jonathan paused. He shot a glance at the Stanley in the case, twitching lightly. His very life source, it supplied his perfect Stanley, it was what kept him alive and physical. Without him, he would simply fade away.
“…” He turned back to Stanley, who currently breaking down before him. His heart twisted. He wanted to gather him into his arms and stop his crying, but he knew it was no use.
Instead, he just sighed. “You may not now, but I will fully restore you to how you were before, my dear. You won’t remember this dreadful thing. You won’t remember anything.”
Stanley curled into himself, sniffling miserably. He didn’t resist when Jonathan took him by the arm, he didn’t protest as they brought him back upstairs.
The woman touched his arm briefly, perhaps as an attempt to comfort, but Stanley barely noticed it and she turned away, returning back to reside in her place of stay, the grand Athenaeum.
Jonathan sighed again. He took Stanley into his arms comfortingly and reset the Office to how it used to be.