Markiplier vs. Darkiplier: The Oneshot

Night 2

He was successful in finding unconsciousness, but he wasn’t alone.

This dream let him look up at the ceiling. He glanced around and identified the fire place, green chair and dark red wall paper from Amnesia. He moved like the character did in the game, smoothly in an unrealistic reality.

The fire place brightened up the room enough so Mark could locate the lantern on the table. He picked up the oil as well, out of habit.

Each step towards the door was one Mark didn't want to take. Through many of the games, he knew the endings, how the game worked and what to expect.

But like the last nightmare, he couldn’t simply wake up and get out of it. He had to play the game. He stared at the door and the soft glow of the fire was blown out by the wind rushing through it as is slowly opened.

Mark held up the lantern to light his path. He took a last glance around the room, he usually forgets something.

He spotted a small wooden box in the corner of the room by the foot of the dresser by the bed.

“Tim!” He rushed over and picked up the small item. As he held the small box, its eyes opened to reveal large blue eyes. A small smile formed below the eyes.

“I'll protect you Mark.” Tim said in a quiet but affirmative voice. His little arms had stubby hands on the end that reached out for Mark's face.

Mark held him close and curled him in his arm to carry him safely. Mark knew he could move on now so he left the room and entered the dark hallway. One way led to a dead end, the other branched off into the rest of the mansion. He held his lantern up and walked down the dark hallway.

The walls displayed pictures of scratched faces. Something had scratched them. The frame had marks on it too, from whatever did that.

“Keep moving,” Tim whispered, making Mark’s arm tighten around him. Tim put his little hands on Mark's and looked ahead into the darkness then hid behind his hand.

Mark looked away from the painting and down the hall. Something moved from one side to the other. He took a step back and his leg hit a chair that slammed into the wall. The impact echoed down the hall. He let out a startled scream and stood still.

 “Be quiet. You don’t want them to find you.” Tim said a bit louder.

Actually being in the game was very different from just playing. Mark usually jumps from his own shadow or screams until the thing goes away. He couldn’t do that here. They could hear him from across the mansion. They could find him. Whoever they were. 

When the mansion was silent once more, Mark moved again and stopped where the object moved.   He turned to where it came from. He saw what Foxy just told him in his other nightmare.

It was written on the wall. It looked like it was written in blood. It dripped down the wall and pooled on the floor. 

“What am I running from?” Mark wondered out loud. He turned around and bumped into something. He jumped back and stared at the golden mannequin that had moved in right behind him. He almost let out another scream. But it didn’t move. Mark didn’t want it to. He didn’t take his eyes off it as he moved passed.

He turned tensely into the big room. The middle of the second floor had the staircase reaching down to the first floor and faced the pair of giant wood and steel doors. A lightning flash lit up the room and revealed a fox-like statue in the corner. It was standing up.

Mark moved again, bumped into the mannequin again and stepped back several feet, desperately suppressing the muffled scream of fear.

The face now had red eyes and the cruel smile from before.