On The Wicked and Fallen

Chapter 1: Chains

Massachusetts 1891
Sept 11th-

Muffled screams echoed through the white corridors as a hunchbacked orderly lead a burly woman dressed in a military trench coat, down the dimly lit windowless hall lined with metal doors, flanked on either side by her two bodyguards; heavily muscled men with black masks covering their faces, one a hulking 8 feet tall.

Approaching a man casually standing in a bloodstained lab coat and plague doctor mask, the woman stopped short while addressing the masked person, "Dr. Corrod, inside is the required patient, Droyn Beckham?"

The eccentric looking doctor gave a slow nod while breathing smoke from the nostrils of their mask.

"Well then, show us in."

The doctor responded with a slow shake of their head, extending a gloved hand as if expecting something.

"Oh, yes," she nodded, reaching into her coat to extract a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Accepting the package, the Doctor pocketed it then slid a ring of keys from his coat and slowly picked thru them. Stopping at one key and holding it out to the orderly, who hastily accepted it to unlock the heavy door and pull aside the deadbolt.

The Doctor was the last to enter into the padded cell where a starved young man in a straitjacket sat hunched in the corner, silently rocking back and forth, muttering to himself.

She cleared her throat loudly before addressing the emaciated patient, "Droyn. Droyn Beckham."

At his name, Droyn stopped rocking back and forth and held perfectly still.

"I need to hear about what happened three months ago, on June 7th, Massachusetts, Arkham City, Atlas University for Modern Sciences."

Droyn gave no response.

"Speak!" She ordered impatiently, "Dr. Corrod, how do we make him speak?"

Exhaling another breath of putrid smoke from his mask, Corrod turned the head of his cane a quarter of an inch, causing it to emit a rattling noise. At the noise Droyn tensed up and continued his inaudible muttering.

"Droyn, I asked you a question, tell me what you witnessed at Atlas University."

"The University?..." Droyn muttered.

"Yes, the University, Atlas University, June 7th." She repeated slowly.

Droyn gave a dry chuckle and looked up thru his greasy locks, revealing his withered face and tortured black eyes, "June 7th? The shackles fell from the gates of Niflhel,"

"You'll have to be more detailed than that, I want to know what exactly you saw, we've time, tell it all."

"And why do you want to know about what happened there? You're not police, not a quack doctor like Mr. Corrod here, definitely not military... no, you're something else..."

"I ask the questions here, now tell me about that day, or Dr. Corrod here gives another twist of his cane,"

"Heh-heh, telling Dr. Corrod here what he's going to be doing? Not a wise choice, he doesn't take too orders kindly."

"Tell me, or I beat you within an inch of your life, boy!"

"That's hardly a bargain, you can't do anything to me that hasn't already been done."

His interrogator looked angrily to Corrod who stood there silently puffing smoke, "Well?"

Corrod gave no response.

"We'll see if I can't make you talk," she snarled while drawing her rapier.

Corrod swiftly raised his cane, tapping the hilt of her sword as she drew it back.

She paused, glancing to him, "Don't worry, I'm only going to beat him with the flat."

He gave a single shake of his head.

"Maybe I need reward instead of punishment," cut in Droyn with a crooked smile.

"Very well," she replied impatiently, "I'll see you properly fed."

"You take me for an idiot? I'll need more than that."

"What then, before I change my mind and have you killed!"

"That might be a reasonable offer," Droyn said wistfully, "death may be a sweet release... no... give me my freedom and I'll tell you everything,"

"I'm afraid that's impossible,"

"How badly do you want to hear my tale?"

"Listen, boy, don't take advantage of my humoring your request, or you'll regret it sorely," she growled.

"fine then, I'll need three things from you, an I'll tell all my story; first, what's the name of the organization you work for."

"Your knowledge of that would ensure your death at the conclusion of this questioning."

"Then my first question is, what's your name?"

"Alexia,"

"A pretty name. And what was your last dream?"

"Is this a joke? I don't remember."

"The last one you remember."

"I was falling, falling down a bottomless pit."

Droyn nodded slowly as if digesting this bit of information, before asking, "Finally, I'll need to know your worst fear."

"Mad man," she grunted, "just tell me your tale now or I'll have the skin flayed off your back!"

Droyn slumped his head back and gave a long chuckle.

"Does it really scare you that much?"

"Corrod, I insist you allow me to beat some sense into this mad man, you said I could question him!"

Corrod remained silent, the dark eyes of his mask staring listlessly at nothing as smoke continued to waft from his nostrils, until Droyn interrupted.

"You think your beating me can get me to relate what I saw? You're dumber than you look."

"Very well, if you insist on this mad man's game, I'll tell you," she thought for a moment as she sheathed her sword, "I fear... drowning."

"Liar."

"You question my word? If you're so sure drowning isn't my worst fear, then you tell me what it is."

"If you insist," Droyn nodded, sitting up to stare in her face, "now be still, and look me in the eyes."

"What foolish game is this?" she sneered, making direct eye contact.

"Just a simple madman's game," he muttered, his sunken eyes narrowing in concentration.

As the moments ticked by, she shifted uncomfortably and her eyes darted to the side, "Enough of this, I-"
"Be still," he muttered, his quiet voice laced with strange authority.

"I- I demand you..." She trailed off as they both suddenly blinked in unison. "What was that?" she asked angrily, stepping back to rub her eyes.

"Your worst fear is a recurring nightmare," Droyn answered lazily.

"What?"

"One you've had since you were a little girl, you dream you wake up and walk to the mirror-"

"How could you-"

"But when you look in the mirror, you see no eyes, no mouth, no nose, nothing, just a blank slate."

The room was deathly silent as Alexia's jaw went slack in surprise. While in her eyes, shone dread.

A moment later, she shook her head and smiled, "Fool of a madman, I fear nothing. But now I tire of your silly game, so tell me what I wish to know or so help me you WILL suffer!"

"Very well," he nodded, lowering his face and sitting back to hide his distorted smile, "June 7th? I remember it was a cold evening, the sunset stained the west horizon like blood in the lake, I was delivering an order of meat to the university. As I drove the wagon up the hill, I was halted by a strange man who stopped me an' asked..."