The Forest [septiplier]

1 - Prologue

Quick A/N: This chapter's short on purpose, being a prologue and all that. Updates are on Saturdays near 5:30. Again, Creative Commons and such make this legal. Anyhow. Enjoy!

The room was completely dark. A weak light came in from a single window on the left, barely enough to illuminate the faces of the strangers in the room. A man with scrappy blue hair sat with his face nearly covered, leaning on a man with electrifying blue eyes. His arm was in a cast and he wore a smile. He was the only one in the room to do so. "Why are we here?" The man with the covered face asked, staring across the room.

Two other shadowy figures sat across from them. One had scrappy blue hair and the other, one electrifying eye.

"You know why. Don't play stupid with us, Fischbach," the third man said. He looked into the light, the whites of his eyes covered entirely in black. The man with his face covered- Fischbach- shifted uncomfortably.

"We want the story," murmured the fourth man. He was almost identical to the man across from him, except the eyes. God, the eyes. The one was a stark black, but the other was horrendous. A shade of toxin. A putrid green.

"Where do we even start," Fischbach said, looking to the man he leaned on- the one with the cast.

"Don't look at me, I'm a shitty storyteller," the man said. He bore a heavy Irish accent. Fischbach sighed, his eyes falling shut.

"Well, if you must know. It all started in the forest."

"I mean, technically it started on the airplane," the Irishman said. Fischbach sent him a look.

"I thought you were a shitty storyteller,'" the one with black eyes said. Irish shrugged.

"If he gets to tell it, he better hope he tells it right."

"Anyways," Fischbach said, clearing his throat dramatically. "It all started a good two hours before the forest, jammed in the bathroom of an airplane with Jack over here sprawled out on the ground, one hand in the trash can and the other underneath the door. There. You happy?" Irish- Jack- grinned.

"Now you're talking," Jack said.

"Yes, please, do start talking. Because right now you're wasting our time. People who do that do not have the tendency of living very long," threatened the man with the green eye. Jack raised an eyebrow at Fischbach, who shifted in his chair.

"I hear you loud and clear," Fischbach said. "Now I get what you're saying Jack, but I'm going to go ahead and take this from what I said earlier. It all started in the fo-"

"But then you're not doing it justice Mark," Jack interrupted. "We were literally in a plane crash. That's how we wound up in this shit hole. You need to at least explain that."

"Okay," Fischbach- or Mark, as Jack called him- said. There was a pretty clear undertone of irritation in his voice. "Okay. Sure. It all started in an airplane bathroom. Because that sounds like a good story. And like, totally not about either shit or sex, because that's what usually goes down in airplane bathrooms."

"Hey, I almost died like ten minutes ago. If you could ease up the sass, that'd be greatly appreciated," Jack said. Mark rolled his eyes.

"It all started in the forest."