Iplier House

New Arrival

A soft, but erratic knock at the front door drew Googleplier's attention. When the android opened the door, he found a man in a floral shirt, nervously wringing a handkerchief in his hands. "Oh... uh... hi." The man flashed a nervous smile, which quickly faded. "Uhm, I'm... uh, well I'm Eric Derekson. I don't... uh, I don't know why I'm here... exactly."

Googleplier nodded his head. "I have heard it is confusing."

"Hm..." Eric grunted, twisting his handkerchief. "I... I shouldn't have come... uh, here... wherever... here is." He turned, glancing back at the street and let out a whine, talking mostly to himself as he continued. "I don't know where I am!"

"The Iplier House." Google explained, stepping back and opened the door wide. "Come inside. I will find someone to better explain what is happening."

Eric shifted a little, looking down at his feet, then into the house before back at his feet. "I don't know... uh... I don't know if... hm..." He let out a whimper before nodding. "Alright. Uh, ok." He looked up, stepping into the house as he clutched his handkerchief and glanced around.

"I will return shortly." Google promised, closing the door before he headed to Dark's office.

"The man- no... the boy... the boy was left alone in the hall way, unsure of where he was, or how he had gotten there." A voice drifted into the hall.

Eric's eyes widened and he glanced around nervously. "Hello?" He shifted. "Who's... who's there?"

"He hoped he would get an answer, and that the voice he was hearing was friendly. He was wrong on both accounts. The Host would not explain a thing to this boy, he was merely a pawn. Fresh blood."

"Fresh... fresh blood?" Eric swallowed hard, his face contorting. "That doesn't sound so good." He looked around, hesitantly taking a step forward. "Hello? Am I... am I not supposed to be here?"

"Of course you are supposed to be here." Came a deeper, layered voice as Darkiplier stepped into the hallway, Google following along behind.

"Was that you?" Eric frowned.

"Was..." Dark glanced at Google, then looked back to Eric. "- what me?"

Eric whined, wringing his cloth. "The-the... there was a voice. You didn't hear it?" Putting his hands on his head, Eric whimpered, crouching down. "I'm hearing voices! Where am I?! I'm going crazy!"

Dark groaned. "Host?" He grunted, looking around.

"The Host was not a foolish man, and would never admit any wrong doing." Came the voice.

"Get out here." Dark snarled.

The Host slowly walked into the living room, adjusting the cloth covering his eyes. "The Host revealed himself, not because Darkiplier now dictated the story, but because the dark entity seemed cranky today. The Host assumed it was old age, catching up with the set of twisted souls."

Dark glared at him, shaking his head, before looking back to Eric. "It was not a voice in your head. This is the Host. He is a mere story teller. Nothing more, nothing less."

"The Host's tales were well crafted masterpieces, not that Darkiplier would ever admit such things." The Host babbled.

Eric looked up at the Host, nodding slightly before looking to Dark. "You all kind of uh... you sort of remind me of my brothers? They died. That's uh... that's ok though. It's ok." He swallowed hard. "Why do... uh... why do you look like my brothers?"

Dark sighed, nodding his head. "I understand this is all very confusing. Do you know who Markiplier is?"

"No." Eric shifted, then gasped. "Oh! Go to markiplier.com!" He whimpered, squeezing his handkerchief. "Uh... why... oh, uhm, why is that in my head?"