Cerebral Extraction
The walls had eyes.
- how did how no no no
These eyes were his.
It struggled so hard, skipping between planes, but unable to leave. Stalking the corridors, all full of mirrors, skies and clouds, watching and preying. Now it was him.
Segregated from the rest of the whole world, this one must have thought itself special. The freedom to see and go anywhere - just move your reality-rippling amoeba of a body through the mirror, and there you are, free to terrorize whoever remained to see your wretched shape.
It never counted on who it was that remained.
- who
He trod the halls, his eyes bloodshot and the smirk on his lips threatening to send his face into spasms. This was the heart of wrongness, the lair of all that was wrong with the world, and in it, he was king.
He listened to the Error whimper its mangled pleas, and recalled all the times it tried to devour him, haunting and representing the sheer horror this world could inflict on someone as low as him. Now he was low no longer, having tasted the fear and repulsion it felt towards him. At last, he felt appropriately. Despite the ravaging illness, the jagged edges within him ripping and moving through his skin and exiting out in black blood, he was omnipotent.
The grainy black and white layers sprung over his sight yet again, accompanied by a painful screech - the Error tried to preserve its worthless being. Its non-body came into being right in front of him, blocking out the eerie light that the mirror walls emanated.
- you dont you you who HOW
Within just a few seconds, it disappeared, crying out somewhere in the back of the maze. Inside his reeling, shuddering, triumphant body, Fixer felt a mix of terror and delight. He could not stand being near them.
They could not stand being near him.
The unicorn trod on, towards the page that hung above what looked like a decayed, twisted poster, stuck on one of the wall mirrors. The blurred and mismatched figures on it resembled ponies flying in the sky, but it was impossible to see it any clearer. For one thing, the luminescence of the mirror labyrinth hurt his eyes, for the other - he did not care in the least what it used to be.
What he did care about was the object the page was pierced by.
- Together… - he said, his own voice sounding surreal and echoing far down the halls, - ...again.
The shard. Finally, it was there.
“Impressive.”
He had hunted the corridors with the whimpering blue Error for so long. Time slipped away, matter slipped away, everything slipped away - he barely paid attention to the pages anymore. It had become a sport, where with each goal achieved, his “pursuer” would go weak and wobbly, like a wolf afraid of a sheep.
This was no wolf. This was an Error, a thing that could not possibly think or exist on the same level as him.
And it had learned to fear him.
- Come to me. - Fixer whispered, snapping the treasured shard out of the paper and hastily checking the writing on it.
“Day (2)? (3 / 4) DO YOU SEE NOW?
What a mess. That is the one thing I know for sure right now. This is an utter mess. I barely remember… I barely want to remember. so simple
Time will tell if anything I went with is going to work. As it stands right now, my temporary residence plan is taking hits. Not only am I stuck in a hospital, but I also feel the part. Now, I have plans that turn that to my advantage… only that does not make up for what is going on. Really wish I could buy that it’s all just a fever I caught in there.
WON’T LET OUT FORGET
PUZZLING PLAYING GOD
DARE DEFY THIS IS
FOLLOW THE REAL THINGight be suspecting something, can’t be sure. Sure isn’t a flying disaster, but something seems wrong about her. Difficult to track, too. Seems she’s one of the few who actually work for a living and don’t have much time to visit some weird fuck in the hospital. Will have to work her out somehow. Or at least explain that not everyone shares her obsession. I swear, I get a stomach ache just when I look at them. YOU CAN FIX EVERYTHING
The rest were around, but I must have passed out then. Will continue later. Should secure the book, hell will break loose if any of them find it. FIXER
My head is killing me. Hard to think. Maybe I’m just tired… or maybe my plan may just get easier to execute.
In the worst way possible. As always.
ENGINEER GREATNESS
RATIONALE
ABOVE ALL”
Even the obscure markings on the pages agreed. Here, he was god. And it was his own insecurity that kept stopping him from being able to see it before.
It was time to put an end to that. He would open the throat of the problem, to close its eyes.
- COME TO ME! - Fixer yelled, his voice a loud shriek, resonating off the mirror panels and shaking the very foundation.
He looked around himself, standing in a crossroads of paths, surrounded by branches that lead to twisted corridors. All mapped in his pulsating mind. Every step, every sound, and every echo went through his head, and the ears that would only catch his own heartbeat told him exactly where the defiant, worthless Error was.
It would shift in and out of sight, standing just on the brink of vision, and moving in place. But to come close to him took much more than it had - the few times it did so were when he was near to the pages. He did not know or care if it knew what they meant, but it did know that in them was its undoing.
- no no no no no no
- Yes.
- no no who ARE YOU NO no
He flicked his tail in annoyance, the Error only blinking at the end of several corridors at once. It knew it was done, it could never leave what it thought to be its own perverted bastion. And still it would draw out the last moments. Spasming, he stepped towards the incoherent, rambling blue shape.
- I said yes.
- no no no
- I - SAID - YES, - he roared at it, and heard several mirrors break, the sweet, familiar toxicity finding its way into his lungs once again, - COME HERE!
The smirk he wore stretched out even further as the Error found itself unable to move. Was it powered by his fear? Was it left to contemplate its last moments, cut off from the source of power it once had? Was it so terrified of finally being fixed like an Error should be that all it could do was stand, incoherent, and flicker like a broken lamp?
- no not real
A panel right behind the Error broke, and through it he saw a welcoming shape emerge, piercing through the room with its curved steel and twisted metal. More and more of these broke in, closing off any paths for the discordant entity to escape, and protecting him from the vicious, colorful grey void. Soon, all of this world would be converted - his responsibility, after all - but now, a dissenting element would have to answer for its actions.
- I disagree.
Fixer marched towards it, the burning pain in his head and limbs only fueling his drive. The Shard almost hopped in enjoyment, carried by the unicorn’s telekinetic grasp, and sprung forth new textures, but another glance at the whimpering non-thing in front of him made Fixer refrain from using it. He put it into his chest pocket, and picked up a shard from the floor.
- no NO
- I. Said. YES, - he screamed at it, stabbing the small piece of glass into the Error.
It yelled out in a gut-wrenching jumbled cacophony of all sounds that a thing like it could find to represent pain. Its shape no longer stood - what little of it remained reminiscent of an equine now kept to the floor, lying down.
- You-
Another stab, another wail.
- Are-
More pain, and more cries.
- All-
His vision gave out completely, surrendering to the black and white layers of grains that flickered inconsistently.
- THAT IS WRONG-
A scream so tortured, his ears had begun to bleed. A minute annoyance.
- WITH THIS WORLD.
No longer needing his senses, he let the Shard slide itself into his grip, and finished the useless, broken, bleeding thing on the floor. A new scream sounded through the halls, but this one he welcomed - a deep, lifeless sound. The roar of an engine that was detained for so long. He felt his flesh-filled legs give out and crash him on the floor as the smell of gasoline, sulfur and turpentine filled the broken air.
Broken. A broken cloud. A broken, wretched sky. A torn visage. A broken line in the broken sky. A broken building. A broken crowd. Broken faces. Broken places.
“Now just don’t go too far. Can’t lose it yet. We are so close.”
His stomach emptied itself through his throat, and he cringed on the ground, laughing, crying, and bleeding at the same time.
What was his mind?
---
Better by the minute. Each step saw him become worthier of the gift he bore within.
The surroundings snapped, creaked and screamed, transforming fully into what he knew they were. Broken visions, broken geometry, broken laws, clear before, obvious now. A thousand engines revved up, tearing through the blasted land from inside. He held the Shard tightly, and let it cut through him with greatness.
He made step after step, and felt the weight in his body shift itself. He momentarily presumed that the experience should be torturous beyond belief, but these thoughts were dismissed, and he continued on, his tissues and bones turning themselves in place. The more changed, the more comfortable it was.
His eyes saw nothing but flickering grains, and everything in existence, all at once. He saw the two that remained, and in his chest, a spring came in motion. A smirk came over his face, until he realized that it no longer could.
He ripped through the barrier, and pressed on, to the tall building in the middle of the square. In less than a minute, his body transcended the capabilities of the powerful, majestic, silly, childish magic barrier, and saw him move effortlessly through the desperate field.
She was making things interesting.
---
Fixer’s breath and heartbeat became the only things in existance. He rummaged through piles of scalding hot metal and choking fumes, scrambling aimlessly, his consciousness begging to be cut like a tumor. Thoughts ground themselves into small, illegible pieces, and offered him only so much to help stay within.
“That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me, that wasn’t me, that wasn’t me.”
In some time, his sight returned - the screeching, flickering black and white grains layered themselves out before his eyes, obscuring the darkness he was submerged in before. Whatever power his body could muster was routed to the legs, so that he may keep crawling as far as he could.
“Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong.”
As he had begun to feel his limbs, woolen and numb, his mind circled in a hurricane of ill-repressed thoughts. Questions, answers, conclusions. Everything nobody ever would want to see or know about themselves.
He watched the world end, over and over again, and felt an existence-defining happiness and a soul-rending horror at the same time. He was king, jester and persecuted.
He was wrong.
He was so, so wrong.
“nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong nothing is wrong”
He wanted so hard not to know anything, to be set back to the beginning, amnesiac and unknowing of the horror both inside and outside. What was he, really?
His bruised mind coughed up images cut into little pieces. He looked at his own hateful glare, staring himself down, and at his blurring features in the mirrors. If only he could believe that that was all he was - just a quadrupedal brown speck in a rough police vest, and little more than that.
But no. He was something much worse. Convulsing under the sight of the black shape, screaming out through its faceless visage, he saw it all too fitting that the vest it wore refused to be a simple hallucination. Stung further, he realized that it was taking the place of the grains that covered his eyes, all too similar to them in shape and nature.
“Enough. We don’t want that.”
The unicorn made a choked breath, and immediately gagged on the fumes around. That did not matter - he had found something to grasp onto. Something that would carry him out of the drowning whirlpool.
- Wh- what do I… - Fixer gurgled, struggling to form words under the strain and the pain.
“You calm the hell down. You’re doing well, remember that. Considering. Much better than could be anticipated. Just don’t lose it.”
His knees creaked with pain, and Fixer realized that he had come, in his blind meander, to a staircase.
“Come on, make a step. That’s it, you’re doing fine. We are very close. Just keep walking and don’t fuck anything else up.”
With every step conquered, he felt the colossal fire within his mind quench itself acre by acre, relieving him of the painful images and thoughts. At nearly five steps, his sight had mostly returned, showing him a dimly lit old stairwell.
- Wh… where?..
“Up. You only have one room to go through, do you know that? That’s right, you do. Isn’t that great? Now get going.”
The thought nearly made the pain subside, his lungs freed of the gases that surrounded the twisted metal of his escape. Having looked around, he felt his stomach shrink, the sight of the path behind him sickening to all senses.
“This was inevitable. It would have broken through in any case. It wants its master back far too much. We won’t let that happen, will we?”
- M… master?
“Well, yes, the master. It depends how you interpret the word. Most definitions fit, though. In a way.”
- Who… what is it?
“That’s not a conversation we want to have right now. Trust me. It’s all for your safety. You won’t get it, anyway.”
The denial of Fixer’s inquiry somehow calmed the storm within his head near completely. By when he was two flights above the cacophony of mismatched pictures and dripping metal, he was already thinking, breathing, moving and seeing. The new clarity, given to him by the assurances made, repressed the world-rending thoughts deeper into a weeping pocket of his mind, and sealed them until further notice. He was guided now, and he felt empowered.
He was so close. It reminded him of the feeling he had when the Shard was around, and-
- No. No, no, no! - Fixer gasped, a horrid connection making itself regardless of any repression.
“Oh, calm the fuck down. It was about time you realized that. It’s fine. You won’t need it for much longer. You were exposed for so long, and you’re still relatively stable. One more time won’t hurt. And if it will, well… as long as you’re operational.”
- Are… are you sure? - the unicorn whispered, climbing up the stairs still, the visions of the bloodstained glassy transistor matching up with actions he feared to think of.
“Trust me, I would know.”
- How?
“It’s mine.”
Fixer came to a complete halt, his brain having frozen up after having received that. It took him several seconds to melt through the sludge of confusion, and have his legs keep making upward steps. He threw himself from anger to fear to relief, the thought that something so close to him was not his at all feeling so alien, and the memories of what that thing had caused forcing him to revile its very existence. Eventually, he continued in the state of relief, knowing now that no matter what it was, it would not be his fault.
“That’s the way you do it. You do have something to you, you know. Your… Rationale.”
An approving nod saw his spirits lift further, the staircase nearing completion. It was looking more and more peculiar with each flight, turning older, but not more weary. His senses, availed of the burden of horror and pain, allowed him to keep track of it as he ascended - it started dusty, abandoned, and made of cement, and turned to intricate stonework more and more as he progressed. At last, the final flight was in, and the architecture had transformed into something that tugged at near-nonexistent memories. It brought back not images, but words and stories - as blurred as any other memory, but open to perception still.
The elegant stone and torches of various shapes brought a feeling that felt both unsettling and intriguing.
Nostalgia.
It reminded him so much of something so distant. It was like a castle from a fairytale.
A castle.
- THERE ARE MILLIONS OF MILLIONS OF MILLIONS OF STARS IN THE UNIVERSE
He felt his breath come to a stop when both his recently recovered ears and his still aching brain came to their realizations.
- YOU HAVE KILLED THEM ALL.
Both of them were worst case scenarios.
“Signing off.”
Both were right.
---
The towers far away at the horizon mocked him, the sickening morning sun enveloping their bulging shapes like a layer of pus would a tumor. He looked at them still - every day spent in the unending hatred fueled his desire to see them fall more and more.
The one thing he appreciated about the immediate situation was that the longer he spent spasming and coughing out ichor, the less he could remember about them. About everything. Very soon, there was just blind, well-founded hatred for the governmental center of the world, and a dull, perseverant sense of defiant longing. Long forgotten thoughts dwelled so darkly deep in his subconscious that not even the coming purge would fully rid him of them. Hailings, legends… bedtime stories. They remained, if only to poke fun at how weak he was at the core, where it mattered. Radiant, colorful, full of thoughtless joy and horrid, senseless being.
He ground his teeth as yet another piece shifted its way through his body.
The towers would fall. He would not even have to lay siege to them.
They were not protecting the right thing.
---
An uneasy gust of wind blew in Fixer’s face, the ornamented door creaking itself open and bringing through a string of worn out pages.
Beyond the door was something massive, something that, even after all he had been through, Fixer could not fully accept as possible. It was only the audial information that insisted on the truth - it was an Error. Their botched, distorted tones were impossible to confuse for anything else in the whole world gone wrong.
Its visual appearance, though…
Fixer only closed his eyes when one of the pages hit him right in the face, obscuring the view and snapping him out of the stupor.
“4 / 4
YOU DON’T REALLY KNOW
WHERE YOU STAND
THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE YOU
IT’S HARD TO EXPLAIN
WE’RE GOING TO FIND OUT SOON
WHAT IS IT AND WHEN”
The strange contents of the otherwise blank page got the unicorn to rise an eyebrow, helping to get rid of the paralysis of the thing beyond the door. He barely skimmed through the contents, feeling as if he already knew what was written. Empowering as it was, he still had to consider what lay ahead.
Or rather, floated.
- I SEE YOU.
- F-fuck me, - the unicorn spat out, springing to cover by the wall next to the door.
He wanted to take about an hour to contemplate what he just saw, but the situation called for slightly less than a minute, the deafening roar of the engine sounding off dangerously close, overcoming even the Error’s speech.
The other Errors had somewhat percieveable shapes - equine, for the most part. While they were not at all consistent, they still remained within boundaries of what reminded him of a body not much unlike his own. This one was an Error as well, that he had fully agreed with himself on, but its sheer size made him crawl.
Nearly all of the chamber beyond the door was filled by a gigantic tear in reality, resonating in purple light and sparkling dozens of incoherent shapes into form, only for them to die off within the moment of their birth. It felt as if the universe itself was gutted with a rusty knife and set on fire, and this was the wound.
Fixer breathed in deeply, and made himself go out for another look, hoping to all that remained that something inside would help him evade the gaze of the distorted monstrosity. He peeked his head out, and saw the rest of the chamber - regally laid out, its floor meters below, the door evidently leading to what once was a balcony.
- YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.
He ground his teeth, the jumbled words yelled out at him with such volume that it nearly pushed him back. Whatever filled this Error’s vocabulary, it was—
- I WILL MAKE YOU.
Fixer’s body was ripped from place and violently thrown up into the air, nearly crushing his bones. In but a second, he was levitating in front of the existence-defying purple void that melted his mind with every moment he had to look at it. Panicking and frantic, he tried to look away and close his eyes.
- LOOK AT ME.
Squashed even harder, like if he was a children’s toy, he felt his eyes open if only for the pressure his body endured. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, and he felt his mind begin to escape into the blissful dark.
- YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE.
Again, the Error swung him in the air violently, enveloping his body in purple fire that let off jagged smoke. He was crashed onto the floor with immense force, but remained fully intact. The flames burned all over him, preserving his coat, flesh and vest, but sounding off a horrible screeching sound that would not go away.
Several agonizing seconds later, the flames had disappeared, bringing back all the weariness and physical pain he had endured. Nonetheless, Fixer stood up, if only because his instincts gave him little choice but to do so, or crawl away in a corner and wait for death. This choice was becoming so trite that he had been accustomed to it.
- YOU.
Painfully, he forced himself to look up, where in but a few meters the horrible Error began. His whole body was reeling and crying for an end, but all that he had suffered taught him that it was not going to be that easy. Coughing out blood, red and black, he continued to keep the massive Error within sight, even if that made his whole world swirl.
- I KNOW YOU.
Fixer ground his teeth further, to the point where the sound could almost be heard over the rush of blood and the Error’s distorted screams.
- DO YOU?
With a severe sickness in his stomach, he thought to answer, but then realized that his mind, mostly shut off in terror, had nothing.
The Error knew that, too. His body was gripped again and lifted from the damp floor, though with nowhere near as much excruciating pressure. He was not being held in a crushing fist, he was merely suspended in the air like a kitten. The unicorn knew what it would ask of him next, and moved his head to face the Error yet again.
As he did so, however, a glimmer of hope glistened in his heart, a mental shriek of terror keeping it company.
- YOU KILLED US ALL.
He breathed incoherently, thinking of his next move. He would need to ignore as much of what the Error was saying, and find what little strength was in him to pick it up.
The Shard. It was in his pocket, neatly stuffed between the diary pages. The smog-filled blank eye stared at him from the surface. He stared back for a second, his eyes nearly dulled out by the pain.
- I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU.
The moment he came anywhere near accustoming himself to the position he was in, the Error flung him through the air again, this time bringing him to the opposite side. A scalping pain emitted from his head, and he was forced to look up.
- DOES THIS REMIND YOU? DO YOU REMEMBER?
He watched the stained glass and felt tears of sorrow join those of pain. He saw these pictures before.
Two sisters. Harmony.
A mismatched puppeteer. Chaos.
Lumbering metal and all-consuming smog. Destruction.
- WE ENDURED SO MUCH.
He shuddered at a thought that visited him, still trying to get his horn to react to his calls.
- AND ALL IT TOOK WAS A WORTHLESS MANIAC IN THE WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME.
At last, a spark jumped off the tip and the Shard had begun to move. Fixer needed only to endure a little more.
- YOU ARE NOTHING. YOU ARE… EVIL. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO EXIST.
Swung again, he was brought dangerously close to the Error, nearly feeling its distorted shape with his snout.
- YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME. WITHOUT THEM, I WAS NOTHING. AND STILL I WAS BETTER THAN YOU.
His eyes met the maddened gaze within the Shard once again. Now it was only to direct it.
- YOU TOOK THEM AGAIN. YOU CUT THEM DOWN. BUT I AM DIFFERENT NOW.
A disgusting cold chill ran down his near unfeeling spine, convulsing in the unfathomable hold of the Error.
- I
- No-
- STILL
His eyes widened as the intricate stone of the wall approached him, then closed as his body was smashed against it.
- REMEMBER.
It crushed and crashed, seemingly aiming to liquify him. He had long ago let the Shard slip and fall down, and now only gasped as more and more of his blood covered the wall. Less and less of his body remained intact.
Just as he thought that it would give out, the flames engulfed him yet again, and he was back to ground zero.
- AND YOU WILL PAY.
The Error threw him on the balcony once again, still engulfed in flame, and physically unharmed. His mind, however, was beginning to loosen the screws much further than he thought it ever could.
He did not know if the howling roar he heard and the quake he felt were real, but the Error was quick to assure him.
- DO YOU HEAR THAT?
Fixer only opened his eyes, weakly looking at the roaring that accompanied the decaying of the once regal chamber.
- THAT IS THE ENGINE OF OUR DESTRUCTION. THE SHADOW. YOU CALLED IT. AND NOW IT WILL DEVOUR US ALL.
The toxic fumes had begun to fill the air. He coughed, his body errantly expecting a much more painful experience, worn and confused by what the Error did to him to keep the torture going.
- BUT DON’T THINK THAT I CAN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU.
Delirious and weary, he rose from his embryo position, barely shaking in place.
- YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL US ALL AGAIN. I CAN READ YOU. YOU MUST THINK YOU ARE SO CLOSE. IT IS JUST ME LEFT.
Fixer inhaled and exhaled in uneven spouts, weakly searching for a way down that did not involve jumping off the balcony and into the Error’s crushing embrace.
He did, in fact, find a staircase, and had begun to descend, defying his own worries of how the Error would just crush it from beneath him and have him in its grip again.
- ALLOW ME TO DISAPPOINT YOU.
When he limped down to the lower level and looked at the Error, he realized that it was the least of his worries.
- whhh who who
- plea right all right
- lright here not in
- hhhmmmmm
- soRrY
- YOU HAVE ACHIEVED NOTHING.
His legs faltered and sent him to the floor, coughing violently. The floor was all covered in the salty liquid from way before - and the walls had begun to cover themselves with the background infection. He felt his eyes come close to popping out of their sockets as the intolerable screeching noise and flickers before his eyes engulfed all of his consciousness.
The Errors were back. He had achieved nothing.
- BUT IT WAS NOT YOU ALONE.
- sORry I didnt
Fixer tried to make sense of his surroundings, sheepishly opening his eyes and fighting through the storm of wailing fear and panic. The first things he saw and heard sent him deeper into desperation.
In front of him were old, abandoned, empty bookshelves and a bloodstained wooden bust. Corrupted by the mismatched texture ailment of the world.
Everything else was an eye-tearing mess of Errors, writhing in the air.
- THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO DISSENTERS.
- plEASe I never mEAnt tO
It was too late to possibly do anything to object when he finally realized what was going to happen. He collapsed in the pool of blood on the library floor.
The horrible tearing sound and the scream he heard transmitted such suffering that it bordered on the layers of comprehension. He realized that not even a millenium of being crushed and smashed against stone would compare.
- I TRUSTED HER. BECAUSE I REMEMBERED. NOW SHE TAUGHT ME NOT TO.
Through the blindfold of the flickering grains before his eyes, Fixer saw things that he would never wish to describe with mere words and ideas. The scattered remains of his rational thought showed that all the Errors, aside from the yellow one and the purple one, had positioned themselves silently to the sides, observing the horrific spectacle and shivering in place.
Fixer could only wish that either his eyes or ears would, at long last, give out. The yellow Error’s screams, composed of violently distorted and barely traceable sounds, did not stop. They only paused - a noise akin to paper tearing apart would boom out, and in a few seconds the screaming would continue, doused with the same purple, jagged flames.
The purple Error squashed him like a plush doll. He was going up again.
- THIS IS WHAT SHE DESERVES. IT WILL NEVER STOP. NOT UNTIL OUR WORLD FALLS APART AGAIN. NOW IT IS YOUR TURN.
The unicorn no longer even tried to respond, his thoughts were merely directed at quenching as many of themselves as they possibly could.
For the first minute or two, the Error simply continued to bash him into anything she could find in the library. The castle was already gone, but Fixer barely had space enough in his head to make note of that. The workings of the world gone wrong no longer had priority.
They had to make space for horror and pain. His body swung up and down, twisted in all directions, limbs separated, parts torn off, and then restored with the purple flame that gave out rectangular smoke.
- I CAN DO THIS FOREVER. TEAR YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE, AND THEN AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN. UNTIL WE DROWN IN GAS AND METAL AND WE ARE GONE.
The voice was speaking in his head. At that point, the Error had not cast her flames on him yet, and he was still recovering from having had his head crashed into the ceiling several dozen times. His ability for denial came in helpful - he had sustained enough damage to kill over a hundred like him, but with a shimmer of willpower it all went away like a bad dream that refused to end. For him, it was only to be crushed and torn and endlessly screamed at by something incomprehensible, something massive, something so rightfully enraged.
- BUT THAT WILL NOT DO. IT IS NOT ENOUGH. I CAN NEVER DO ENOUGH. NOT FOR WHAT YOU DID.
Just barely, he felt the grip ease on him, and his body return to the starting point. He fell to the floor, barely conscious and wildly amazed by the fact that he was still capable of controlled thought.
- YOU TWO HAVE TAUGHT ME NOT TO TRUST. I CAN NOT TRUST MYSELF WITH YOUR PUNISHMENT.
He breathed, ravaged by phantom pain, his throat still believing that it was twisted open. His mind did what it could to block out the Error’s words, but it could not sustain the defense.
What could possibly be even worse? He thought he would be scared at the thought, but by that point a mental limit had been reached that had merely turned him curious.
- GET UP.
Fixer’s ears perked up incoherently, the muscle memory still writhing in agony. He did what he could to sit up.
A harsh gust of wind hit him in the back. The Error had removed the bloodstained door, opening the way through.
- GO IN THERE.
When he failed to comply, a distinct noise sounded out.
- yshould get IN
With no choice but to submit, Fixer had begun to crawl towards the small, completely empty room with walls of bland cement.
As he made a painful effort to look back, he saw that six ponnequins had lined up behind him, staring his broken shape down alongside the Errors. Those that were not wailing in agony, something beyond mortal understanding torturing them endlessly.
- thIS iS please not maKE al COMF right ORTABLE
He just wished everything would end.
The floor had begun to shake, and the familiar roar sounded off in the distance.
At least she would not suffer for long.
- hhhrrrllllhmgrllrhhhrh
The wind blew in his face, freezing up the already cold sweat even further. There was nothing in there that could let out wind. It was just blank concrete and dancing shadows.
The only wind source was the broken window on the upper level. A shapeless chunk of metal covered in senseless wires and dripping with oil protruded from it.
- you THINK WE ARE not no no you not you SHREDS
At last, he finished his crawl and got himself over the doorstep. Now he laid in the dry, lifeless room, surrounded by mocking, agonizing shadows. Combating exhaustion, he rolled over to face the Errors and the library from so long ago.
- IN THIS WORLD, I AM POWER.
Fixer scowled and coughed, at last seeing actual blood, black and ichorous, come out of his mouth. For so long, he felt like his whole body was bleeding, but this was no delusion. At least something was an adamant fact. He still carried the sickness.
It was as good a thought as any while he prepared for what would happen next.
- EVEN I FEAR THE THING IN THIS ROOM.
With that, the entrance to the library faded out of existence, replaced with the same grainy flickers he had seen so often.
The shadows had infested every wall. They screamed at him.
He laid down and breathed out, feeling more than dead inside. He saw the biggest shadow shape up in front of him and open its mouth.
---
What was she, really? What could she be? What was she for?
He cycled through the memories as the raindrops came short of dropping on him. The purple haze that covered the area was designed to restrain anything that moved, and was executed perfectly.
Only he did not move. The world moved around him.
With a violent swipe, he tore through the intricate magic barrier as if it was wet paper. His end goal was a matter of fact. Its significance, however… He thought back to the beginning.
She never made herself seen. The leader, that was no doubt. What the master let him know was primarily about her - the greatness she was destined for, the visions of the horrid world order she would continue to enforce. Clearly the cornerstone for all the terrors the two of them have had to live with for so long.
But he could not see anything up-front. Her visits, her words, all blurred out. He felt like he was being read - she knew exactly when to come so as not to raise suspicion, and avoid giving him any information. What he could not understand was why she would not simply kill him right there, as she definitely had both the tools to do so and the public respect to avoid repercussions.
Smarter than that, perhaps? Yes, she would play it to her advantage. Scheming, leading… in just a few years, a Princess.
He spat out a breath of sulfur at the mere thought of the word.
He was her test subject. To see how she would handle a perpetrator to further glorify herself in the outcome. Humble and vain, a figure of kindness for the mindless cattle, and a mind that he himself could only describe as truly evil.
The few times any of her words made sense, he outright refused to let them sink into his memory to make an imprint. She was challenging him, and he had accepted the challenge. Her assistant being in the capital, her asking him what he thought of the capital, her life in the capital, inquiries about his health… He knew enough. She was the future of corruption.
At last, the wretched, twisted building was within reach. A roar left him as he saw how it sparkled with the most putrid colors and gave out improper shadows, defying his vision.
His claws dug into the foundation, and he entered the library.
His face no longer could have itself in a smirk, but if it could, it would be the widest yet.
She had constructed her own demise.
---
- About time.
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5113041 I'd suggest superglue instead.
5119700 Short sentences is something I've developed while trying to pace the story out. They normally come out far too long and boring, so post-editing gives us this. Admittedly, as time went on, I developed an opposite problem, and now half the sentences are gut-kicks to the reader.
And, well... I'll spoil one thing - one of these three is nowhere near important enough to be playing that part.
5121240
No, you didn't. Justine is the Amnesia game that got the least cross-over exposure in A:TE. Though some... things later may be reminiscent.
Get used to it. Reality is... infrequent, as the chapter says. Heh. It'll more or less be explained later on.
I'll point out one important thing for now - this is, well... a bare-bones crossover. This is done in the style of Amnesia, and isn't a retelling of any of the games, and it doesn't feature any of the characters. It is, however, part of the Amnesia universe. It shares... items, so to speak. So don't expect Alexander, the Suitors, or Servant Grunts. You can expect a lantern, though, or a journal. Or... more.
5121396
Her? I wonder who.
Finally, this had managed to throw someone off.
And the "scull" thing... I type really really fast, and SEVEN re-edits later some things stay as they were. It may get worse in later chapters. Those only had three.
5121396
We'll talk about this game after work. Maybe it'll help you understand this story better. You have to admit though, this is better than the other one on fan fiction that turned into clip half way through.
5121534 Hm. Not sure what the connection between you and Blood Lord is, but when and if you explain, do try to either mention A Machine for Pigs extensively, or not mention it at all. It is by far the most tightly connected Amnesia story. Some plot elements I picked from it shamelessly.
Still, this is more of an Amnesian what-if for Equestria that follows the same concepts and threads that I believe an Amnesia game would. Much like TDD, Justine and AMFP, it has a leitmotif, its own symbolism, its own idea and its own horrors. You may just read it without any previous Amnesia knowledge, and the only thing it'll change will be a few references and a certain plot point that is still explained well enough (I think) to fit in properly.
5133677 Yeah, that part was something that I considered. And nothing can be done about it. It's just how it is. It's not even the actual confusion - it's the assumed confusion, it's all that you do not know. I purposedly dug that hole.
In-game, it is helped by the soundtrack, the visuals, and the gameplay - here, all I have is the story and the pacing. Plus, the fact that some people find interest in connecting the events. I'm glad to see that you find that point as well, being, apparently, one of the few who have disliked the story. And the only one whom I've seen comemnt on that.
I have no idea what I'd done wrong to make the progression uninteresting, though. There are two plot lines (the current events and the flashbacks), which both progress each time, and as far as I'm concerned, their development is relatively intriguing. I don't understand what's gone so wrong for it to just lose the appeal. I guess I don't hold much ground, being the author, but I don't see how that criticism is justified. There has been a lot of streamlining done to the plot, and I don't think it can go any further.
At least I know that it has - it's more than I got for other ones.
5133767 This is the midpoint and my personal favorite chapter. This is where we stop getting THAT many new questions and instead start solving them. I'm glad to know that worked - I was afraid you'd give up after the last one, which was the last so-called establisher.
It's going to get clearer with each chapter from here on out... not that I won't add more questions and/or twists.
Well, that didn't quite go like I expected, although none of my theories have been disproven as of yet. If anything, they've been strengthened. It's good to know that Twilight, at least, gave the bastard what he deserves. What's bad to know is that she may have perfectly played into the Orb's plans.