Inconceivable!

[Der_Fuhrer_Dyszel]

http://z1.invisionfree.com/forums/The_East_Pacific/index.php?showtopic=7949

The hum of a TV buzzed in the corner of the room while the flickering of channels, sounds, and colors passed before his eyes.

How many days had it been?

He felt a warm dribble fall onto his knee, a knee that was pulled up to his chest as he sat hugging himself. He was scarcely aware that he had been hugging himself, tucking himself away from the people he was forced to interact with daily; scarcely aware that his mouth had fallen ajar and he was drooling on himself yet again.

And still, he made no attempt take the little effort to close his opened mouth. Instead, he stared blankly at the changing sounds and colors, all blank visions in his head, nothingness to his mind, a mind that was little but a thick haze lately.

“Come on Damon,” a sweet voice spoke as a woman appeared before him. “Let’s get you back to your room, okay?”

She did not wait for his response, she never did, before she helped pull him to his feet and walk him back to his room. He looked at the floor though, watching his slippered feet shuffle slowly to the room. Each move was suppressed, time slowed as he walked backwards through it. His head hung heavily, his mind pulling him down, its blank existence collapsing under the depths of the watery hell it was plunged into.

Clozapine.

That’s what they called it. At least, that is what he thought they said. Still, he was subdued effectively, drugged from his latest outburst against the fox woman. She was always there, stalking him, threatening him, trying to murder him just like she attempted to assassinate him in another life. She worked for them, she was a hitman, and he knew, he knew that she was out to get him, but he could not prove it. She kept disappearing every time he pointed the finger at her. One day though…one day he would get her.

Slipping a pill into Damon’s mouth, he felt it dissolve instantly in contact with the saliva. He made no attempt to spit it out, but also no attempt to swallow it. It was not until the nurse poured water into his mouth that he felt the need to swallow. Helped into bed, Damon again retracted, pulling into himself as he turned to stare out of the barred window.

Freedom had never been so far away.

Meanwhile, a loud laughter broke through the hallways. “You ain’t gonna fucking catch me! I’m the mother fucking gingerbread man!” it howled as the man wielded the corner and leapt onto an open chair, attempting to surf it before falling with it onto his face.

Rushing behind him several staff effectively surrounded him and pinned him to the floor, holding him down as they produced a needle.

“HEY! I want my lawyer! STOP! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?” the man bellowed, fighting against the staff who attempted to hold him down. He looked up, seeing past the staff to the nearest occupant, ah crap, a kilt…he was in trouble, much trouble. “Help man! You’ve got to help to me bro. They’re holding us against our will. Do you hear me!? Tell them, tell them they are holding us against our will and we’ll pay you! Yo! Guy, listen to me! We’ll pay you okay? What do you want? You name it, we’ll get you whatever you want. Anything. Ah fuck,” he cursed, feeling the needle insert into his skin.

Seeing the man nearest not move, he continued to look, seeing a fur covered foot. Ikrisia. It had to be. “Hey! Ikrisia! Remember me!? It’s me, Viktor. Damn it, don’t pretend you don’t know me. We practically had an affair together. Yo! Help me, will you? Don’t just sit there, hit the bitch in the head and get me out of here! If you do…I’ll…you know…it’s kind of nice here. The food isn’t that bad…better then Elysia’s cooking…you know…it feels nice here…can we have a fire? I want a fire…and snow. It should snow in…here…and…” Viktor slowly trailed off, falling limp in the hands of the staff who carried him back to the isolation room he managed to break free from yet again.

[Todd_McCloud]

Ikrisia shuffled her feet across the tiled floor, her mind still fried after her most recent electro-convulse therapy treatment. While her doctors told her it was working, and would work better eventually, she couldn’t tell much of a difference. Her muscles ached because of the relaxants they gave her before each procedure. Her mind felt like it had holes in it – whole years of her life she couldn’t even remember. And she was remarkably confused, especially directly after each procedure. Confused to the point where she wouldn’t remember which room she was in, or which muscles moved her ears back and forth. Even walking was confusing: left, right, left, left again, right, left-right, right… it was all very difficult until she could make it to her room.

So much for Project Uveshk.

It was still present in her mind. Losing her friend, Leyuski, caused her to delve back into her mind, bricking herself in as she regressed deeper and deeper into its recesses, choked by old memories. When it came time that she had to come out, the mortar had set, and she was trapped. With that came other problems. Her fingernails were trimmed short so that she could not inflict harm upon herself and, when she began to bite, a guard worked initially, but eventually they just filed her teeth down. It didn’t matter; she was used to eating mush by now, without a fork, naturally.

As she walked back to her room, she noticed Viktor on the ground, babbling about… something… she couldn’t wrap her mind around it just now. The hum from the fluorescent lights seemed to compete with the words anyway. Usually the feeling would go away when she returned to her room, but it was always frustrating for her. She was smarter than this, what happened?

Staff led her back into her room, making sure she cleared the lip over the doorway, then gently set her down in her room. She hit the padded floor with a thud, groaning and rubbing her face against the vinyl, the words still a jumbled mess as the staff closed the door on her, isolating her once more. Too bad, they would say.

[Kandarin]

“There is nothing there.”

“They are there.” Rachel Penteleimon said firmly. Of course I am. “They are always there. Watching us. Judging us. Sitting in judgment over us.” The former Overlord of Honist sat in the examination chair, her white patient gown appearing all too like her normal garb. If it had some sleeves and boots and a skirt with a kick pleat, it’d probably have looked the same from a distance.

The man seated across the room nodded and took a note on his pad. Behind him, the nine standing others nodded and took notes on theirs.

Judging you. Of course we are. Said the tall, regal one.

You killed us. Added the finely-dressed one, chiding Rachel and the first alike. What is there to judge?

“I don’t remember doing that.” Rachel did not feel like a killer. Why did they accuse her?

“Tell me what you don’t remember doing.” The psychiatrist adjusted his position in his chair, taking down an extensive list of notes. This patient was trouble, not least because they didn’t know where she had come from. She had protested at first, and tried frantically to make calls to a very long string of outside contacts, but none of them had checked out. Once the medication started, she had become stable, at least.

You don’t need to remember doing it. We don’t care. You killed us. Said the bloodthirsty one in black.

And that’s why we’re here. To remind you. To make sure you don’t forget. Don’t forget. Said the other bloodthirsty one, in red.

You didn’t kill me. Said the faceless one, lurking in the shadows. I’m alive and well. I’m just here for fun.

“See? Someone believes me.” Rachel turned to the psychiatrist. “You believe me, right? I didn’t kill anyone.” There was no criminal record listed, but the psychiatrist kept quiet. Best to let them talk and not pollute the discussion with new ideas. “I mean, you can see them, they’re alive, so I didn’t kill them.”

“Where?”

“Behind you.” Rachel pointed. “The whole room.”

Don’t bother, said the regal one. He can’t see us. He can’t even see you.

But we can. Added the short, crafty one, putting her arm around the regal one. And we’re going to be your friends. We’ve got aallllll time to get to know each other. Ain’t that right?

“It’s…good to have friends.” Rachel murmured. “But I don’t get you.”

The psychiatrist looked flustered. “We’ve been here for an hour and we’re not getting anywhere. I’m going to inrease your dosage, and we can talk about it again in a week. Until then, you’re going back to your room.”

Orderlies entered and lifted Rachel out of her chair, leading her slowly away down the hall to her padded room. She craned her neck back at the room, trying to get some further look at the strange accusers. But she knew they’d all be there back in the room. They were always there. Always judging. She didn’t know how they got in. They must work here, she figured.

We’ll be there for ya! The first bloodthirsty one waved.

Don’t forget to write!

See you soon!

[Chancellor_Shaw]

A nurse carrying a tray of food gave a series of short taps on one of the doors in the hallway. No answer. She heaved a sigh, then tapped on the door again, using the same pattern of raps. This time she heard a loud voice from the other side of the door.

“That still isn’t right, but enter!”

The nurse pushed the door open. The first thing she saw was an elderly man of about 75 sitting on a chair behind what should have been his dresser. It had been pulled into the middle of the room, and the chair he was sitting on had books put under the legs so that he could peer down over the edge of the dresser at the door, which gave an imposing feeling to the nurse as she entered looking up at his wrinkled face. He was balding on the top of this head, with wisps of snow white hair hanging loosely down to his shoulders, and a bright blue right eye looking down at some papers on the dresser. His left eye had a scar running across it, from his forehead down his cheek, and the eye was a cloudy white colour. The nurse brought the tray in and set it down on a table in the corner.

“Good morning John. I see you’ve been moving furniture around again, I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore?”

The man squinted in her direction for a moment, then bent over the dresser and appeared to be writing. He spoke to her in a clear, precise voice, and even though it was not loud it seemed to resonate across the room.

“And I thought we agreed that you would refer to me by my proper title. I’ve had people executed for lesser faults, you know.”

“Now John, I never agreed to that, and that is enough with the threats. Come down from there and have your breakfast. I sneaked you in some coffee this morning, your favourite!”

His eyes fluttered towards the tray for a moment. “Pass it up to me.”

“No, you come down and get it. Don’t be impolite to someone who just brought you something special.”

He glared at her again, then slowly pulled himself down from his perch. He grabbed a cane once he was down and limped slightly as he walked over to her, taking the cup of coffee from her hand as she gave it to him.

He took a long drink from the mug. “You know, I could just have that rowdy one, the fellow making all the ruckus, executed for you. I don’t like the thought of him running lose in my house, never mind terrorizing you all.”

“Well that is very… Sweet of you John, but this isn’t your house, and he has just as much of a right to be here as you do. Now drink up.”

He started to take another drink from the mug, then stopped as he brought it to his lips. “…Here, you have some.” he said as he handed it to the nurse.

Her face went white. “Oh, um, no thank you. I’ve already had some and it will make me buzz for hours…”

“No, I insist!”

“I think I had better be going now, enjoy your breakfast, I’ll check in on you later.” She started walking towards the door.

“TRAITOR!! USURPER!! ASSASSIN!! YOU ARE TRYING TO KILL ME!! I’LL HAVE YOU EXECUTED FOR THIS!!! NO ONE GETS IN THE WAY OF CHANCELLOR SHAW AND LIVES TO TELL ABOUT IT!!”

He threw the cup at her and it shattered against the wall as she ducked out through the door. He suddenly felt very dizzy, fell over on his bed, and fell instantly asleep.

[Allegheny]

Her life was perfect, she was one of the most powerful women in the world, an entire army at her fingertips. The one and only person she answered to only had to say the word and she would crush his enemy. Cassandra spent most of her days in the bowels of CENTCOM, planning and rearranging, creating new maneuvers and training regimens. It was a national holiday week in Allegheny, an entire week were the nation dropped everything and celebrated, instead she would be going back to her home where she could catch up on her extensive book and music collection.

Her home was built in a small suburb of Elyse city, it sat a few feet above the river which flowed through the city. It was dark when she arrived, the lights had not been turned on for almost a month. She poured a glass of Bourbon and started her gas fireplace, her favorite chair was off to the side, a small lamp illuminated her cozy reading area. Her leg had begun to bother her, the one she had lost 5 years ago just below the knee, she remedied the pain by removing the prosthesis she wore. Several hours passed as she delved into the book, eventually her eyes closed and a deep sleep was upon her.

“Cassie… Cassie… Wake up now!” A white light was all she could see as she reluctantly opened her eyes. The voice that had called her by the name only her father had called her when she was a small child had jarred her awake. “Cassie… do not try to make any sudden movements, you have been in a coma for a month now. Do you remember me?”

Cassandra had no idea where she was or who this man was. “No. How dare you address me by that name, I am THE Supreme Commander General of the Alleghenian Armed Forces!”

The doctor who had now come into focus shook his head with an extreme look of disappointment. He turned to the nurse and orderlies who stood behind him, “It seems the surgery did not work.” A look of genuine sadness had set upon his face. “I’m sorry Cassie, I did everything I could.”

Cassandra became angry, “Who are you people? Where am I? I demand answers!” She tried to stand up, only to find her prosthetic leg has not been attached, she fell on her face, Where is my prosthetic leg! What am I doing here?" The orderlies grabbed a hold of her, Cassandra began to fight, but even with her skills she was pinned down. The orderlies strapped her to the hospital bed this time and the sad doctor stood over her.

“I’m sorry to say you are not Supreme Commander of anything my dear, you are in an institution for the insane and other generally mentally unwell people.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The doctor continued, “You remember the attack that took your leg?” Cassandra nodded. “You suffered a mental breakdown, you created several different personalities back in the institutions of your home country. This Supreme Commander iteration is only one of the latest of those personalities. You have fabricated twenty different lives, all of them were subdued through counseling and drugs, but every time it seemed you would return back to a normal life you created a new one.”

Cassandra could only stare in disbelief.

“You were a Colonel in the Alleghenian special forces, until that fateful day, since then you have rotated through several institutions before showing up here. This is an international facility run by the best of the best and yet we have still failed you. We may have to take more drastic measures, your father only want’s to see you happy and normal again.”

“Drastic measures? My father has been dead since I was ten years old! Let me out of these restraints you sick fucks!” Cassandra violently thrashed about her bed yelling threats and obscenities, eventually the doctor ordered for her to be sedated.

The next ten hours were spent in a sleepless haze, she could not move, and as far as she could tell she was locked inside a small padded room with a bed and a barred window looking outside. Eventually a kind nurse came in and situated her into her wheel chair. Cassandra could not muster any strength to fight the nurse’s gentle hands away. “Where is my prosthesis?” she asked with slurred words.

“Oh, I’m sorry Cassie, but you are no longer allowed to have it after your last incident.”

There were no words for a response, how could this be happening to her? She had the perfect life and now she is in this ‘asylum,’ her father was supposedly alive too. Cassandra began to feel tears well up in her eyes.

“What’s happening to me?” she said aloud.

The nurse did not respond, she continued to push Cassandra’s wheel chair into a cafeteria/lounge where other patients watched television, read books, or played board games. She was set in front of a small round table, where a cup of medicine sat, it was put into her mouth and the nurse gently forced her to swallow it with some water. The tears flowed freely now, but she did not sob or cry out, it was a silent cry.

“Oh, hun, don’t cry, it will be better soon, the Doctor will make it better somehow.” The nurse took a lock of Cassandra’s hair into her hand, it was longer then she remembered it being, but then again she wasn’t even sure she was here right now or who she was. “I’m glad the Doc didn’t have to cut your hair off for the last procedure you had, you have such beautiful hair.” The nurse smiled and then walked away to tend to the other patients. Cassandra could only look off into the distance at nothing in particular as the medicine she just took began to take effect, the tears still slowly flowing out of her olive-green colored eyes.

[Chancellor_Shaw]

When the old man woke up, he was lying under the covers of his bed. There was an I.V. drip attached to his wrist, which he promptly pulled out as he always did. He felt nauseous. He slowly sat up and reached for his cane, his one semblance of a life long past. Was it really that long ago? It felt like just yesterday that he was giving life or death orders, changing peoples lives with a single word, carrying the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders. He looked across the room into a mirror, and saw his gaunt, lined face framed by strands of white. Yes, it was long, long ago. The only vestige of physical proof of that time was indeed his cane. An intricately carved rod of clear quartz, inlaid with a golden vine climbing the handle, topped with a perfectly spherical golden globe with a map of Moafin etched into it. Moafin… Would he ever see it’s white sandy shores again?

His mind was clear this morning. At least he thought it was clear. It was always so difficult to tell whether he was thinking straight or not. He looked up beside the door and saw the remnants of a coffee stain splattered on the wall. Poor girl, she had just been trying to help him. At the time everything had made perfect sense to him. It always did. One day he knew he was the ruler of a noble country, and the next he knew that he was a sad, confused man who was unable to care for himself.

Leaning heavily on his cane, he pulled himself up off of his bed. He put on a rather plain brown robe and slippers, combed his hair a little, and went out of his room and down the hall. He walked past a directional sign, glancing at it as he went by.

— Begin quote from ____

<—Lounge, Recreational Areas
—>  Lower Risk Patients Wing

— End quote

He shuffled into the lounge, one of the communal areas of the facility. There were a few other people in the room, including one girl in a wheelchair who looked like she was having a very difficult time. “She’ll get used to being here after a while… She looks young. Maybe there is still hope for her…” John thought to himself. In one corner there was a sofa that was in front of a television set, with a selection of benign movies to choose from. In another corner there was a shelf full of books and board games, and set up in the centre of the room was a half dozen small round tables with four chairs around each one. The four windows in this room let in some light, but they had curtains over them so as not to excite some of the more sensitive patients, so most of the light was artificial.

John walked up to the shelf with the boardgames on it, and with a shaking hand slid out a very worn cardboard box which had tape wrapped around the corners of it to hold it together. He set it on an empty table, and pushed one of the chairs out of the way, then dragged a leather recliner up to the side of the table. He slowly sat down and set the pieces on the board with no one else around him. “Kings pawn to D3.” he said as he slid the piece forward. He then looked around the room, leaned back in the chair, and stared at the board.

[Der_Fuhrer_Dyszel]

Kings pawn to D3.

It was like a calling, a beckoning through the haze of his mind. Again he walked backwards through time, slipping slowly through the recesses of the fog. It was as if all time slowed to a stop while he waded through the murky waters of his mind.

He felt the piece in his shaking hands, the contours and grooves of the knight. Without knowledge he moved his piece, moving it as if he were playing the game his whole life. It was only until after he placed himself into the game did he become aware he had even moved.

Damon lifted his head, looking to the old man across the table from him. What could he possibly be in here for? Little explanation could explain what ailments this man was suffering from, but then again, Damon was scarcely aware of why he was even there.

“Are you going to move?”

The words sounded far off, like the very distant cull of a seagull as one approached land for the first time after months awry in the depths of an oceanic hell. But Damon stared, his mind suppressed, his actions subdued, his entire mein dampened to the point it ceased to function. He saw nothing as he stared blankly, looking beyond the man as if seeing right through him, the man no more than a window between Damon and something in the far distance.

“Hey kid, are you going to move?” the man asked again, tilting his head to look into Damon’s eyes more clearly.

Movement. It was the first thing Damon saw before he again realized that he was holding his knight. He looked down to the game he was unknowingly playing. How much time had passed? The question only faded in his mind as he moved without thought, his hands remembering a game his mind could no longer recall.

“Sir,” a soft voice entered the ever present emptiness of his mind, the face blurring in the fog, “are you sure you want to play this game with him? He has catatonic episodes. Mister Diehl’s medication has not yet taken effect; he can easily lose himself for hours. If you want, I can remove him and find you a new partner.”

Hours. A funny word when your time exists in years and decades.

Damon’s consciousness seemed to regain itself long enough, just long enough to follow the conversation. Catatonic? It would certainly explain something, but how? How did this all happen?

Time passed as he felt the medication hit his tongue, dissolve again on contact, and washed down with a cup of water. One day…one day he would fight against it. One day he would find himself standing there in the midst of this haze and fight against it all. But now…now there was only the man before him, waiting.

His hand touched his knight again, feeling again the contours as if for the first time, the world around him becoming more lucid with the partial lifting of clouds. And for the first time, he began to notice that he was not in a regular hospital, he was not in Mahanoy, and most certainly was not safe. “Where am I?” he asked, looking to the man now with a look of fear on his face as he became slowly aware of all the unfamiliar people around him. The woman in her wheelchair, the lingering presence of a man screaming in the distance about a conspiracy, and then, there it was, fur. Bits of sticking to his clothing, holding on for their dear life in fear of falling and being lost to the floor for all time. The overwhelming fear began to creep up inside of him, imprisonment.

“Where…where am I?” he lowered his voice, pleading with the man for an answer, “who are you? Are you…one of them? Are you going to hurt me? I told the others…I don’t know where my father is. Please don’t hurt me sir. You look too kind to hurt me. I just…want to…” Damon looked around, fear surfacing, threatening to break free. He looked back to the game, to the piece in his hand, to the man patiently sitting before him waiting for Damon to take his turn, “take my turn,” he finished, pushing back the wave of fear back with a remarkable skill and control as he took his move.

[Allegheny]

The rumble of large transportation vehicles accounted for most of the noise that was now filling Colonel Phillips ears. She and her men were moving to a new base that had just been built near the Eastern border of Bai Lung. They had to be wary and watchful as terrorists were still operating here, even after the 1985 convention these leftover’s from the cold war that followed the civil war and their brainwashed followers continued to be a nuisance for an army that had taken almost 20 years to get themselves situated and organized.

“Colonel! Our scouts have reported no terrorist activity we should have a smooth ride from here to Fort Stevenson.” Cassandra continued to scan the horizon with her binoculars, she had a feeling that the Lieutenant who had made that report was wrong. “Okay Lieutenant Shepard, but keep a sharp eye out we do no need any pr…”

The truck in front of her exploded into a fiery mess, it had been filled with green troops who had just reported for duty the day before. Hot metal and entrails rained down everywhere. Cassandra could not see where it had come from, it must have been a roadside bomb. “Everyone out of the convoy take up defensive positions!” She yelled over the screaming. A push by the terrorists was soon to come, it always came after an attack like that. Soldiers began to run out of their trucks and carriers, to a nearby embankment which would provide some limited cover. Then from the trees terrorists, some in body armor, other just wearing plane clothes poured out of the them. There had to be over 100 of them as they began firing.

Her soldiers returned fire, bullets flew over her head as she took out her side arm and also fired a few shots of her own. A rocket flew from the tree line and slammed into the part of the embankment she had been laying on, she was flung up into the air and slammed against the pavement of the road behind her, an intense pain came from her left leg as she got a look at it she could see that everything below her left knee was gone, she screamed out. The terrorists had begun to overtake her poorly trained greenhorn troops.

Cassandra awoke again to see the table in front of her, she was screaming wildly as orderlies began to converge on to her. She tried to get out of the wheelchair but she fell over once again, the large hands of the orderlies grabbed onto her arms in a bid to regain control of her but this time she was ready to fight them. She kicked and screamed wildly knocking over the table she was sitting at, an orderly had gotten in front of her and she head butted him, he grabbed his head and fell into a table that two other patients, older and younger were playing chess at. The fight however was soon over as a needle was jammed into her neck, the fluid rushed into her veins and quickly sedated her, drool began to leak out her mouth as she was set back into her chair to be taken back to her room.

[Chancellor_Shaw]

“That’s alright darling, there aren’t too many folks around here that enjoy a good game anyways. Besides, this’ll give me time to think about my next move. I don’t have any pressing appointments, hehehe.”

The person across from the old man was not a child, but he had seen far too few years to be in the state he was in now. At least he seemed interested in chess, which was more than could be said of many people in todays generation. There was a bright mind behind that vacant stare, that stare which seemed to flicker to life for a moment as he began to talk. Something about people who were out to get him? And his father? What had this kid gone through?

John slid his hand halfway across the table, attempting to connect a little more with what remnants of contact had been made.

“Who is your father, kid? Why do they…”

Suddenly he was interrupted by an outburst from the girl next to them who had been sobbing moments before. She was in a rage, and obviously was no stranger to defending herself. One of the orderlies who came to restrain her took a hard hit to the head and slammed down on the table, sending chess pieces scattering. She was soon under control, and was carted off out of the room.

A tear formed in the corner of his eye as John watched this scene unfold. He could relate all too well with the feeling that everything was wrong, that this was not where he was supposed to be. Perhaps she could find a way to cope? Some way to reconcile where she should be with where she is now?

John collected the chess pieces back together, and once more placed them all on the board. He placed the pawn and the knight to where they had been moved, then took his next move, sending one of his own knights out. He clutched his cane and slowly stood up, looking down at the person across from him.

“Take your time with the next move, kid. I’m going to get some fresh air, we’ll come back to this later.”

He shuffled off towards a hallway that led to a courtyard in the middle of the facility, the lingering tear trickling down his cheek as he went. “It’s all just so wrong… It’s all so wrong.”

[Der_Fuhrer_Dyszel]

Barging into the room, Viktor closed the door and slid away from it, pressing himself against the wall as he looked around the room for its occupants, breathing heavily as he did. Close…very close. They would be looking for him shortly, but he escaped for the moment and it would be enough time to find Damon and try to get him out of this place. He needed to know, Damon just needed to know, know that he was being held here against his will. He saw Diehl for just a moment, the medications they were giving him subduing his instincts to fight and break free.

Looking about the room, he found the room’s sole occupant sitting on a bed, staring out the window that reminded them all they were locked in here.

“Ikrisia? Seriously? Ikrisia? Where the fuck is Damon? I need to know now before they get me! You’ve got to help me!” he gasped, feeling the pressures of the time pressing on him. They would realize in just another minute that he was gone and begin the search for him.

“Hmm?” she seemed distant and disconnected, as if her brain had just been zapped one too many times by lightening. “Who?”

“Damon damn it! Diehl. You know, the guy you tried to kill or something. Come on, I don’t have much fucking time Ikrisia.”

Again she stared blankly at him, looking to him as if encountering this stranger for the first time in her life.

“Fuck it!” he stormed off, running out of the door and down the hall to the lounge where most of the patients tended to gather. It was risky, with all the staff subduing the woman who had an outburst there earlier, but surely someone there would know where Damon was. Running into the room, he nearly collided an old man leaving, but paid him little attention.

“Yo, where’s Diehl?” he asked the room’s occupants, looking around to meet vacant stares. But there he was, sitting at the table, staring at the wall.

“Diehl!”

“Diehl?” the voice asked, Ikrisia standing next to him and looking at the man Viktor was talking to.

Damon only continued to stare, unaware of their existence, looking ahead as his hand held onto the chess piece.

“Ikrisia. What the fuck woman?” Viktor cursed, startled at her sudden appearance.

“Ikrisia?” the voice was small, quiet, barely a whisper coming from the man who suddenly turned around to look at them. “Who wants her?”

“Damon?” Viktor responded, looking genuinely confused for a moment. He knew they were experimenting with medications on Damon, but what else?

But it was Ikrisia who responded, looking to Viktor “What?”

And it hit him, like a punch in the gut. The disbelief spreading across his face. “Ikrisia?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Damon responded, confused, disoriented, lost in a haze.

“Damon?”

“Hmm?” Ikrisia again stared at him, the same confused look in her eyes.

“MOTHER FUCKER! You are telling me…you are telling me that they switched your brains? You are shitting me? No fucking way? So that’s what they did…they hooked you up to those machines and switched your fucking brains. God damn it!”

Looking to Ikrisia, Viktor grabbed her hard and shook her “Listen, Damon, are you in there? Damon, listen, you’ve got to get out of here…they are doing some weird shit here. Experimenting and all. Just look at what they did to you. They switched your brains! You’ve got to get out here! Get help or something. Go call those Elite friends of yours bro. You’ve got to save us!” he insisted, shaking Ikrisia hard only to meet firm hands on his own shoulders.

“Mister Rumvalsky…don’t make this scene. Come back to your room,” the cold voice of one of the staff spoke.

Turning to look in the man’s voice, Viktor slid under the man’s grasp and punched him hard. “What the fuck did you do to him? You sick bastards! You fix him! YOU HEAR ME! YOU FUCKING FIX HIM OR I’LL KILL YOU! PUT HIS BRAIN BACK! PUT HIS FUCKING BRAIN BACK! THIS IS WRONG! IT’S UNETHICAL! IT’S IMMORAL! IT’S JUST WRONG! FUCKING WRONG!”

But his argument was met with chemical restraints, medicines he could not resist as his mind again plunged into the faded induced apathy. He slumped into the man’s arms who again carried him back to his designated isolation room.

[Allegheny]

Cassandra awoke, in her chair, where she had fallen asleep next to the now extinguished fireplace. Her head hurt, as if someone had punched her repeatedly, “It must have been a nightmare.” She quickly checked her pants pocket to see if her I.D. was till there. It read “Phillips, Cassandra. Rank: Supreme Commander General. I.D. code N9:JA32.” It was indeed the correct information she had been looking for, sighing in relief she changed into her jogging clothes for her morning exercise. Before walking out the door she spent a few minutes with the radio listening for weather and air quality reports, to her surprise it contained nothing but static. “That’s not normal.” She said aloud, her voice slightly echoing in her quiet household. Cassandra walked towards the door to find it was slightly ajar; she was perplexed but shrugged it off since she had been in a state of extreme exhaustion when she arrived the day before.

The skies above Elyse were dark and the sun’s light barely made it through the thick layer of clouds, the air was colder then usual, especially for a summer month. No one else was outside, no sounds could be heard in the distance, and not even the chirping of the birds could be heard. Cassandra continued to walk toward Main Street, which should have been full of people, chills began to creep up her back as the silence persisted. Main Street was empty, just like the rest of the town where she had grown up. A layer of fog permeated the area reducing visibility to only a few feet in front of her.

“Hello?” Cassandra called out, her voice shaking. “Where is everyone?” Only echoes returned to her as she continued walking down the middle of the street. An oppressive feeling pressed down upon her chest as she continued deeper into the town, she unzipped her running jacket so she could have easier access to her sidearm.

“WHERE IS EVERYONE?” She was screaming now, not on purpose though. The fear had grown to an intolerable level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE?”

“Over here.” A voice whispered in her ear. As she heard the voice she pulled her gun out from her shoulder holster and fired a bullet in the direction of voice. She stood there, her stomach feeling as if it would explode from the nervous feeling. A small groan came from the direction of where she shot. With the gun still drawn she quietly stepped over to find the body of a man in a white doctor’s coat now lying in a pool of blood. Half of his head was gone from where the bullet had made contact, his eyes still open. Cassandra had a strange feeling of Déjà vu as if she had met this man before. She crept closer to get a better look when the remainder of his head turned toward her and smiled.

“Wake up Cassie.”

An ungodly scream erupted from Cassandra, as she stood there paralyzed in fear. Suddenly she was staring at a white ceiling, her arms and legs restrained. She continued screaming as the doctor who she had shot now stood over her shaking his now undamaged head.

“Tsk, Tsk, we will need to up the dosages on these drugs, she is still hallucinating. The screaming stopped, now replaced by a fainter sound of yelling coming from the lounge area.

Cassandra trembled as she was brought back to this new reality that she thought to be a nightmare. “Let me go!” She pleaded; she had never felt so weak and powerless.

The Doctor shook his head, “I’m sorry my child, but we cannot let you go, now try and get some rest, the nurse hear will give you something to make you sleep.” The nurse came over and inserted a needle into Cassandra’s neck. “Don’t worry, there won’t be any dreams this time.” The nurse softly said. A quick and dreamless sleep overcame Cassandra, her heart rate slowed to a normal level and the shaking stopped.

The Doctor left the room and walked quickly to his office, a tape recorder sat in the open in the middle of his desk. Picking up the recorder, the Doctor began to make his report.

“The Colonel, has provided us with great results, the new hallucinogens have made her every nightmare a reality, an interesting side affect is a type of schizophrenia, the patient erases her past life and replaces it with a new one. Reintroduction to her old life creates a series of hallucinations and outbursts of insanity which drives the patient deeper into the cycle.”

[Todd_McCloud]

The television was relentless to the ears. It wasn’t like there could be any release from the noise in the place; however, as people seemed to think it was their turn to talk all the time. Well, what about her turn? Did they skip over her, or maybe she was supposed to say it was her turn, you know, like she was back on the project, the project so long ago, where they pretty much created competition to be synonymous with survival. It was a hard life, from what she remembered, but even those memories were fading. And she couldn’t explain why.

Still, her mind was swayed to whatever was playing on TV. It was a low droning tone, like a ringing, but it was kind of halfway, like between a low growl and a ringing. The images appearing on the screen were a series of hallways, nothing too spectacular. Looking at her fingers was almost as appealing as watching the screen. But at least it was entertaining to watch at times. The hallways changed. Well, no, it didn’t change; it’s just that it had periods of light and dark. Regardless, there was a growing constant – a point source, a light, slowly growing in the horizon of the hallway. The camera, if you can call it a camera, began to pick up speed, moving across the carpeted floor, passed rooms. It wouldn’t show what was in the rooms, but some rooms offered light, while others offered darkness. One room, however, did have a spillage of toys out to the hallway, but not so much.

At least now her attention was piqued. The white point light in the black and white television screen was getting larger. And the ringing growl noise was also increasing. Ever so slightly. Finally, like it was all coming together at once, the camera stopped in front of the point light. Except it wasn’t a point light anymore. The destination showed it was a writhing bag, like a bag of white skin. The screen flickered a bit, but finally, text appeared over the screen, scrolling from down to up as the bag of white skin writhed and shook:

I have this reoccurring nightmare
Of a anomalous creature
It haunts me each night
Before I lay myself to sleep
Before I say my final prayers

It only creeps in my mind
When the drone of music resides
I feel its presence as it creeps
From the shadows it lurks
From the depths I cannot go

Ikrisia watched as the bag began to tear apart. Apparently it wasn’t a bag of skin as she once thought.

It is completely white
With green glowing slit-eyes
Long arms stretch from the body
And its head is humanesque
And it looks quite grotesque

Her eyes were glued to the powder-white creature that seemed to focus to clarity as it spread long arms like a gargoyle about to take flight.

A mouth materializes on its face
As red appears on the white
Its slits squint and furrow
As it arches its back
As it lets out a hellish sound

It crept in front of the camera, extending an arm as it moved out of the television screen, reaching out to her, the growling ringing noise so loud it blocked out all other noises.

“No!”

She blinked her eyes. No more television. It was all gone. But everything was not gone. All that remained was a carbon copy of herself, without clothes, just sitting in the corner and sort of leaning against one side of the padded wall. It was hard to tell if it was alive or dead, its eyes were completely black.

She couldn’t quite make it out, but it seemed as though one of the patients was shouting something about switching brains. Weird. Then, a name. Damon. Even weirder. But, as she stared at the apparently lifeless form in front of her, she quickly began to feel like she was not herself. Oddly enough, it was cold. Colder. And heavier. Like there was something crawling under her skin. Or his skin? Yeah. His skin. Perhaps they did switch minds after all. Perhaps she wasn’t really herself anymore. Maybe she was him?

She reached for the body, only to find it seemed to drape like it was just skin or a suit. Turning the body over revealed no other help. No zipper of sorts, nothing like that. Somehow she had been separated from her vulpine form. Somehow. Was it the beast? Or some procedure? Staring at fleshed hands, she had no idea what it could be.

[Chancellor_Shaw]

An old, feeble man shuffled through a doorway into the central courtyard.

A strong, confident ruler emerged form the other side.

As he had been walking, the world around Chancellor Shaw had been changing. The dull, monotone paint on the walls began to crack and peel away, shedding its layers as if they were old skin. The white tiles on the ground had melted beneath his feet, like they were made of ice. The florescent lights faded to black and disappeared in the shadows. The Chancellor was no longer walking in a sanatorium.

Gold leaf now covered the intricate carvings which spanned the arched ceilings. His cane made a defined click noise as it hit the marble flooring. Enormous tapestries and mirrors adorned the mahogany-panel walls. As the Chancellor exited the building and strode into the daylight he squinted while his eyes adjusted from the comparative dark inside. All around him were immaculately kept lawns, hedges carved into the shape of fantastical creatures, and statues depicting great Moafish visionaries.

The scenery was not all that had changed, however. The Chancellor now walked with his back straight, standing his full 6’5". He firmly grasped his cane, not because he was leaning on it, but because it was his symbol of power. His good eye gleamed in the sunlight as he looked around, assessing the state of his grounds. He found a bench near by, and sat on it as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and began to write.

When he had finished writing he entered once more into his palace and found his way to a staircase leading down. The stairway was not as grand as the rest of the building, and as the Chancellor descended the decor gradually became nothing but bare stone lit by torches. There was one of his Royal Guard standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The guard looked up at him and smiled. “Hey there, John, how are you doing today? I didn’t think you were scheduled to help with the Solitary cleanup today, what brings you down here?”

It took all of his will for the Chancellor to ignore the insult of having his first name used by such a commoner. I must control myself, he thought, I cannot let them see that I know who I really am. Not when I am so close.

“Oh, well, I just figured I could slide in an extra hour of volunteer time, I missed some last week and want to make up for it.” conspirator, I will have you locked in one of these cells before long.

“Well, I suppose that’s alright. How are your new meds working out for you?”

“Oh, they are working just fine, thank you. I’ll go get the supplies now.”

The Chancellor walked past the guard and entered the dungeons. This must be where he was sent… Most of the cells were empty except for a small pile of filth-ridden straw as a bed and a bucket for the prisoners to relieve themselves with. Putrid stench wafted from the vacant rooms, and eventually the Chancellor came upon an occupied cell. The door was made of solid steel, with a small locked hatch on the bottom to pass a daily bowl of gruel through. The Chancellor took the note he had written earlier out of his pocket and slid it under the door to the person inside, then walked as quickly as he could out of the dungeon level. The note read:
— Begin quote from ____

To the Esteemed Mr. Viktor Rumvalsky:

I know you are imprisoned wrongly. Although I do not agree with your tactics, you seem to be one of the few others on the estate who can see things clearly. I have come to the conclusion that there is a plot in action which jeopardizes my security, and I need your assistance to divert it. I have heard your screams of anguish over your friends, and you are right to be enraged. We must work together to escape the watchful eye of the spies which have infiltrated this very building. You will be released before long, and at that point I would like you to attempt to keep a low profile, yet also keep your wits about you. These usurpers are not above drugging us to make us believe what is real is not, and what is not, is.

I propose that we devise a way to secure access to the surveillance centre, bring your friends along with us, and lock ourselves in the room. There we can survey the building through the monitors, secure and release locks, and hopefully contact the national guard for a rescue effort. I happen to know that there is an access route to the roof from that room as well, so we will not be trapped should we be forced to find an escape.

If you are willing to partake in such a risky endeavour, please find me in my quarters. Do not let this not fall into the wrong hands!

Yours truthfully,
CS

— End quote

[Der_Fuhrer_Dyszel]

Days flowed and passed, drifted and melted, raced and stopped as Viktor plunged in and out of a chemically induced unconsciousness. Despite the careful attendence to his physiological needs, he still managed to hold safely onto the promising note he carefully hid under the mattress. There the crumpled piece of paper offered him hope, a chance to perhaps break out of this dreaded place. The clock ticked away, speeding up and slowing, time no longer a coherent pace.

7 pm. Change of shift.

Now was his chance, his chance to find the man who had written the letter. Feigning sleep, he waited until the restraints were removed as mandated per shift before slipping away when the one to one was not paying attention. Room after room, he searched until her found the older man sitting in his bed, staring out a window.

“Yo,” he spoke cautiously, unsure of whether or not he should be there. Clutching the note like a life preserving device, he stepped forward slowly, “I got your note. What do you have in mind to bust this joint?”

[Chancellor_Shaw]

The world was beautiful out there. So full of life, so full of sun. This land will be free once more. My land, it will be free from those treacherous usurpers of the throne.

The Chancellor was feeling weak. He looked down at a plate full of food next to him, wishing so badly that he could eat it. To touch it, however, was to die. It was at least drugged, and at worst poisoned. He must stay strong. The world was so beautiful out there…

Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. Could this be it, the moment he had been waiting for? He turned, and there before him was his means of recovery, the rook in his well thought out chessboard. Yes, the time was now.

“Ah, excellent, excellent. I was hoping you would come. But of course, how could you not? I assumed you were a reasonable lad, and would take the obvious course of action.” The Chancellor leaned heavily on his cane, and lifted himself off of the bed. “I have plans, my friend. Elaborate plans. Even though you have no reason to do so, I ask you to trust me. We do not have much time, and I am afraid that I cannot lay out our entire course of action for you, if you were to be captured it would mean a very large amount of work would come to nought.”

“I can, however, let you know this. We are in the midst of a very complex… game, of sorts. A game which you may play a crucial role in, if you are willing. The end result if we are successful will be more of a reward than you can dream of. Wealth, freedom, security. In the note I gave you it eluded to a course of action, but I am certain you realize we will not have it so easy as to be able to waltz in to the security centre. We must hurry though, they will be looking for you. All I need from you at the moment is this,” he was now staring straight at Viktor with his glazed-over white eye, and stretched his hand out towards Viktor. “Can I rely on you?”