I've been having these weird dreams lately, seeing myself and a strange creature conversing in a garden somehow. I would chalk it up to mere delusions, but they felt so real, like I was actually there talking with that thing. I've been in this hellhole, labeled The Facility, for months now, expecting my execution at every waking moment. I think they're just trying to draw it out and mess with my mind, probably even get me to beg for death like a dog. Death doesn't scare me, though. In fact, I laugh at the face of death.
During my imprisonment here, I had become familiar with the two people that liked to make my life hell. Frederick Phillips, the head scientist in The Facility, and Daniel Reaves, the Captain of the Guard. The former was your run-of-the-mill nerd, only he'd created every torture device known to man. His little toys couldn't break me, though. Flesh and bone is superior to wiring and steel, after all. And Daniel, built like an ox and as strong as one too, was a worthy adversary, proven by the many scuffles we had gotten into. He only won a few times because of the obvious disadvantage - my fists against his baton wasn't exactly a fair fight.
But seriously, the drugs that kept me from breaking out of this place weren't the cause of my strange dreams, so it was probably my own demented mind doing so in order to cope with being imprisoned for so long.
I had been staring up at the ceiling for who-knows-how-long during what I assumed to be night on my cell bed. Sleep had eluded me, for the drugs that had been forcibly injected into my veins kept me awake and made my eyes more bloodshot that they usually were. Maybe if I just thought about something really intensely, I would just pass out or something. I focused on the creature from my dreams, trying to uncover its appearance with my mind. At that moment, searing pain shot through my body and I fell unconscious before I realised it had happened.
I appeared back in that familiar garden once more, seemingly in control this time. Everything was still blurred, but the creature was not. It was like somebody had stitched various parts of several animals to one body. A goat's head, an antler, a spirally horn, a feathery wing, a lion paw, an eagle claw and a dragon's talon were among the many thing this Franken-creature was made of.
"I see you've finally come to your senses," It said, earning a partially shocked reaction from me. "Though I suppose the lack of magic in your world made it harder for you to re-establish a connection to our little meetings."
My initial reaction was to produce a cutting remark complete with an amused chuckle, "What happened to you? Somebody throw you into a wood-chipper and shock you with electricity?"
He lost his smirk and looked insulted. "Why, I've never been so insulted in my existence! Your words cut me deeply, Mr Holiday!"
"I should hope so," I added. "Either I'm in a comatose state in my cell or I've finally gone insane. I honestly expected the latter to come much later." Then it hit me. "Wait, how do you know my name?"
His smile returned as he clicked his fingers and a couch popped into existence behind him. Another snap of his fingers produced a bag of popcorn and two glasses of brown liquid - I assumed it to be chocolate milk.
"Well, that's rather interesting, Mr Holiday. Can I call you that?" He asked, eyeing me.
"Michael is fine, no need to be all formal."
"Okay, Michael. I'm Discord, the resident God of Chaos. Ever since my petrification, I've been able to detect chaos in the neighbouring universes, and you, my friend, are the most chaotic human I've ever laid eyes on!" He gestured to the couch he was sitting on. "Would you like to sit down? It's quite a story."
I shrugged and, figuring it couldn't hurt, sat down next to him with the glass of chocolate milk in hand. I held it up to my face suspiciously, expecting something bad to happen once I drank it. For all I knew, it could've been laced with those fucking muscle relaxing drugs. After a few moments, I took a cautious sip of the brown liquid. Instead of what I thought was chocolate, I felt like I was drinking liquidized glass and began to cough furiously in order to spit it out.
"Got to admit, liquid glass is much more lethal than lacing the drink," I managed to wheeze out, spitting out a glob of reflective grey liquid. "Even if it's unorthodox as a killing method."
I glanced back at my glass, somehow still holding the same volume of chocolate milk with half the glass gone. Odd, even for a dream including this 'Discord' guy. I lobbed the glass at a statue of a winged horse. It flew through the air and struck the statue before exploding against it in a shower of glass and stone. Explosive chocolate milk, it seemed.
"Oh come on, it's not that bad," Discord said, feigning innocence before taking a sip himself and his face twisted into disgust. He threw the glass at the already demolished statue, reducing it to powder. “You’re right. That stuff is revolting.”
“Care to explain to me why you’re here, you know, in my dream?”
“Yes, what was I doing here again…” He muttered, idly spinning his lion paw as if in deep thought. “OH! I’m here to solve your whole imprisonment problem and solve my own problem at the same time.”
“The Facility isn’t something to sneeze at, buddy, even if you’re this self-proclaimed God of Chaos. One way in, one way out, five hundred guards and six prisoners, myself included.” I rubbed my eyes idly and picked out the crust forming into the corners of my eyes.
“I’m not helping you escape, my friend. At least, not directly. Since magic is near non-existent in your world for beings naturally able to use it, I’m going to exploit a loophole.” He grabbed my wrist with his paw, yanking it over where he could see it properly. “Like so.”
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I asked dangerously in a quiet manner, trying to retrieve my hand from his grasp.
“Just stay still so I don’t muddy this up,” He replied, encompassing my hand and wrist with his own paw.
Searing pain, similar to when I passed out, spread through my wrist and hand and bright light glowed from between his paw and my hand. I tried not to struggle and screw up whatever he was doing. After a few intense moments, the pain stopped and the glowing subsided.
I took my hand back and saw a new addition to the top of my hand. A white segmented circle with short arrows, apart from the bottom arrow that was longer than the others, pointed from every direction had been emblazoned on my hand. A tattoo, maybe some kind of brand?
"You gave me a tattoo. How does this help?" I asked bitterly, staring at the mark on my hand.
"That isn't a tattoo, my dear friend. That, right there, is a Mark of Chaos." He said, as if saying only that explained everything.
"Meaning?"
"Well, like I said earlier, beings able to naturally use magic aren't able to do so in your world. WHich is why I've given you your very own Mark of Chaos, which when imprinted on a magic-less being allows that being to use a sort of pseudo-magic. Very ingenious, if I do say so myself." He looked proud of himself until I rained on his parade with yet another clever remark.
"If by 'pseudo-magic', you mean parlor tricks and illusions, it isn't going to help very much against guards armed with tasers and assault rifles."
"You're a real downer, you know that?" He said with brutal honesty.
"I'm not really the optimistic type, so yes. Yes I am."
Discord put his paw to his face, muttering something about 'putting up with me' and 'it'll all pay of eventually' before looking at me once more, his ever-present grin materialising.