A world of darkness enveloped him – shaped only by the glimpses of red light found in the far reaches of the ceiling. The warm, damp air held the faint smell of dust from years of dormancy.
A small metal object rested in Jack's hand – a lighter. He swiped the igniter until a flame flickered from the device. It didn't give off much light, but it was enough for him to explore where he was... and furthermore, why he was here.
Sudden disorienting environments had become all too common of an experience. Was he in the middle of recording a 'let's play'? Was he dreaming? Or maybe he let his mind drift off too long – long enough for the d̸e̵m̶o̶n̶ to toy with him.
Jack cautiously walked down the narrow, empty corridor. He could hear murmurs and illiterate voices swirling in his head again.
He took a deep breath."Stay calm, this should end soon," he reassured himself through the ever-increasing noise.
There was a piercing scream – he held his breath. He wasn't sure which direction it came from. Every time he turned around to look, the maze of hallways and abandoned rooms seemed to feel more like an endless loop.
But then he turned the corner - this time it was different. The red lights burned brighter and faded to white as he passed into a room.
It revealed a familiar silhouette dawning an old-fashioned blue vest and white dress shirt. A bushy mustache covered his mouth while an elegant scarf wrapped around his pale neck, hiding the dapper bowtie that finished off his polished apparel. He stood quietly in the middle of the large room, his eyes solemn yet despondent – focused steadily on his counterpart. Yet past his monocle, Jack could see a hint of disgust in his expression.
Jack recognized him immediately. "Son of a bitch..." his perturbed voice echoed through the large room.
The man remained silent, never breaking his focused gaze.
"Now I have to deal with you? 'Jameson', right?" Jack continued, approaching him. "Who's next?"
Only dead air replied.
Jack grew impatient, "Can you fuckin' speak or are you-"
"I'm afraid you won't get a word out of him," A calm voice interjected.
Jack turned around to find another character from his computer screen manifested into a reality. The curious white mask was already etched into his memory - accompanied by clasped hands behind a grey shirt and black jeans. He stood composed with an air of pretentious mystery.
"...You," Jack growled. Suddenly, Anti was the least of his problems.
"Oh, this isn't about me either," the masked man grinned.
"Well could you at least tell me why the hell I'm here?"
"You're dreaming!" he exclaimed with feigned cheer. "Isn't that obvious?"
"This feels like more than just a dream," Jack replied. "Its... exactly like when he possessed me."
"Its not possession when the spirit is your own," the man sauntered to his old-fashioned counterpart. "How else do you think we could communicate with you?"
"Well, that one isn't much for conversation," Jack quipped, looking at Jameson.
With a roll of the eyes, the masked man grabbed Jameson's scarf and ripped it away – revealing a gaping, blood-stained wound in the center of his neck. Jack struggled to study the carved-out flesh and bone that rendered the groomed man mute.
"We are not what we seem Jack," the masked man stated. "It's time you acknowledge that. Even your reality is subject to our... sleight of hand."
"And vhat do you think you're doing?" another voice called out. This one held a different yet distinct accent – yet it was hard for Jack to place.
Standing beside him was another version of himself – this one in a clinical white doctor's coat, wrought with concern and frustration.
Dr. Schneeplestein.
"Making our presence known," the masked ego replied.
"We talked about this Marvin," the doctor persisted.
"Shut up!" Marvin's collected persona buckled. "You know I hate the name he chose for me... cheesy alliteration."
A faint sound of ch̷illin̸g̷ la̶u̵ght̴e̴r echoed in Jack's head.
"This isn't Jack's fault, you know this," Schneeplestein continued.
"Is it really?" Marvin contested before pointing a finger at Jack. "He's the reason we're all dead!"
An all too familiar voice returned to taunt him, "̶Th̴i̷s̵ i̵s̵ a̴l̶l̵ y̷ou̵r ̶f̵a̸ul̸t."̴
The doctor continued to defend him, "You can't-"
Marvin interrupted, "And if he thinks he won't end up like us, he's fucking wrong! In the end, you're always just a puppet to something bigger, holding on by your threads."
Jameson's eyes lowered and drifted off into dull memories. His vivid weary expression spoke more than any words could at this time. His meticulously combed hair fell out of placement and shaded his eyes – revealing curious glimpses of Irish green.
The shrill voice echoed again, "Y̵o̵u̷ d̸id̴ ̸thi̸s. ̶It̴'̴s ̸all̸ y̷ou̶'̷re̶ f̸au̴l̸t̶." The phrase seemed to bounce off the walls and continue on into a disjointed chorus of doubt.
Schneeplestein's fervent expression changed to unease as he looked around the room.
"You need to leave now," he told Jack.
Marvin continued, "Why should 'Anti' be the only one who can revel in his fall?"
"Listen to yourself!" the doctor exclaimed. "You're losing sight of reality just like him! Nothing vill be achieved from joining this man-hunt, you must see that. Just because ve're his puppets now doesn't mean ve have to fall victim to the same destruction."
Marvin's demeanor shifted as he took a step back. The doctor forced him to think beyond his short-sighted vengeance long enough to look around at what was unfolding before him. To see that he, once again, was being used as a puppet in a greater scheme.
"...My God," Marvin said. "You're right. This is exactly what he wants."
He franticly looked around the room before taking his ivory mask off. Marvin's medium-brown hair spilled out from the mask which kept it concealed. It seemed as if his identity shifted into a counterpart that Jack overlooked.
"...Chase?" Jack questioned.
Anti's broken, distorted laugher echoed throughout the room, "̷Y̷o̵u ̷c̶an̵'̵t ̸g̴et ̶r̵id̴ ̴o̸f ̸me̵."
This time they all could hear it.
"Jack, you need to wake up. Now," Marvin urged.
"What?"
He grabbed Jack's shoulder, "Now! Do it!"
============
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this section, please hit the star button and feel free to leave a comment or suggestion before reading the next installment.
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The Threads That Bind Us: An AntiSepticEye Origin Story
Fanfiction*COMPLETED* Jack recognized him immediately, "Son of a bitch..." his perturbed voice echoed through the large room. The man remained silent, never breaking his focused gaze. "Now I have to deal with you? 'Jameson', right?" Jack continued, approachin...
