Chapter Text
Simon pried the axe from the floorboards, watching splinters fly from the now-existent hole, and brought it up to hold with both hands. He altered his footing, preparing himself in case of a physical altercation. He has a gun, Simon thought, What good is an axe gonna do then?
“Oh come on, don’t be like that! I don’t want to hurt you!” The chipper man placed his hand over the gun again, “But just know that I will if I must.”
Simon stiffened. If he wasn’t dead yet, this man in front of him would guarantee that he meets his maker. Wilford, his name is Wilford, Simon remembered.
“Where am I?” Simon asked aloud. His voice was hoarse from what he can only assume was the trauma he experienced just before landing ass-up in this shithole. Whatever brought him here apparently didn’t care to fix his vocal cords, choosing to patch up his more important injuries instead. Simon didn’t necessarily have room to complain.
“Well now, that’s a tricky question! Not something so easily answerable in such few words,” Wilford continued, “Perhaps it would be easier if you put the axe down, just so Dr. Iplier doesn’t have more work on his hands than he already does.” He gave an overexaggerated wink to Simon. In turn, Simon frowned.
Hesitantly, he loosened his grip on his left hand, letting the axe fall to his right side. However, he didn’t fully let go, still worried that something might happen. He furrowed his brows as he continued to stare at Wilford, scared that he might make a sudden movement and catch Simon off-guard. Simon swayed slightly, straightening his posture, gaining a few inches. Wilford seemed slightly shocked at his towering figure.
Wilford adjusted his bowtie, clearing his throat before speaking again, “I said drop it. You don’t want me to treat you like a mutt, do you?” Wilford made a motion pointing downwards as if to attempt to command him.
At that, Simon snarled, baring his teeth. A mutt? Seriously, Simon began to think, Does he know who he’s talking to?
“Yes, I do,” Wilford interjected, “And still, I suggest you drop the weapon.”
Fearfully, Simon felt his right hand tighten its grip on the handle. How did… Simon’s thoughts trailed off, How did he-?
Read your mind? Oh nothing but a fun party trick is all, a second voice joined his thoughts. Simon froze in fear. Telepathy? Was this man like the fish in that god-forsaken ocean? Was this a hallucination like he originally thought?
“Oh, liven up, chap!” Wilford slapped his shoulder, jolting Simon out of his spiraling thought process, “You need not worry. Like I said, I won’t hurt you unless absolutely necessary. I mean, you’re one of Mark’s characters! It’s not like I can technically kill you anyways.”
Mark? Dr. Iplier? Dark? Simon thought, shaking his head to clear his mind of all the people mentioned just before untensing his muscles a bit. Doesn’t matter, he continued internally, So long as I can get out of this fuckin’ place.
“That’s the spirit!” Wilford continued, “Now, if you come with me, I can help you get a slightly better grip on this reality.” Wilford smiled at Simon before turning around and crossing his arms. He brought a hand up to his chin, looking slightly over his shoulder at the hole Simon created, “Maybe I can talk to Randall about fixing that…” His voice trailed off in thought, “Or maybe the other construction guy… nah, too sexual.”
With that Wilford began to walk down the hallway, moving with a sort of joy in every step.
Simon looked onwards as he walked away, oblivious to the fact that it was implied he was meant to follow. Glancing back down at the hole, he stared closely at it. Shockingly, instead of foundation lying underneath the boards, there appeared to be… nothing? No, that’s not quite right. Perhaps it’s just too dark for Simon to see. Leaning down, in hopes that maybe the Light from his eye would be able to illuminate the area, he peered further into the darkness.
Without warning, a flash of pain infiltrated his mind. Memories of the submarine and that fucking fish was all he could see. Simon dropped the axe, barely hearing it hit the ground with a heavy thud, and gripped his head. He groaned in pain, stumbling back slightly as he tried to wish away the thoughts. Why, Simon thought, Why me? In his mind, he saw the corpses of all his brothers laid out in front of him. All of them, dead. All of their blood on his hands.
Simon felt a hand grip his shoulder, shutting down the mental images and replacing them with an empty bliss. The pain eased up, and the blood rushing through his ears like an angry ocean during a storm calmed down. Tentatively, Simon opened his eyes to find himself staring down at Wilford. Huh, never realized how short he was.
“You alright there? Seems like you just saw a ghost!” Wilford chuckled again. (Does this guy only ever feel happy?, Simon thought absent-mindedly) “A word of advice,” Wilford stated, expression turning too serious for Simon’s liking (Ye ask and ye shall receive), “Don’t go trying to make sense out of the senseless, okay?”
Simon nodded hesitantly, peering over Wilford’s shoulder to look at the hole- Wait-
During his little episode, the hole had managed to miraculously patch itself up, good as new. First it was the strange room, then the strange man, now the strange floorboards. Nothing in this place was normal or made any lick of sense. Simon was not quite sure how to deal with that revelation.
“Good, now, if you’ll please follow me. I think the readers would very much enjoy a change of scenery!” Wilford grabbed Simon’s right hand, beginning to lead him down the hallway.
Simon did not have time to process Wilford’s statement as he was abruptly dragged down the hallway. Stumbling as they went, Simon began to survey his surroundings again. The first thing he noticed was the material the walls were made out of. Wood; a rare material that disappeared along with the Quiet Rapture and the dying of the Last Tree on Eden. Simon couldn’t believe his eyes at first, but the more he looked around, the more he noticed how every surface was made of wood. The floor, the walls, the ceiling; everything. The walls were a deep mahogany color, accented with all sorts of dark reds, blacks, and golds. There were large, fancy wooden pillars lining the halls, warm lights hanging from almost every one. The floor was adorned with a beautiful, rich red carpet that seemed to trail on forever. Doors lined the hallway, each one slightly different from the rest. Each one, a plaque with a different name; Mike, Dave, Annus, Derek.
Who names their kid Annus?, Simon couldn’t help but slightly smirk.
“Uh- where… where are we going?” Simon asked, slightly beginning to fear the man dragging him. Come on, he can’t be more than, what… 5’8?, Simon rationalized, You’re 6’6, grow the hell up.
“Actually I’m 5’10, thank you very much,” Wilford interjected, again shocking Simon, “And I’m going to show you around! I feel like the new guy should at the very least know where the kitchen is of all things!”
Simon nodded, yet realized a moment later that Wilford was not currently facing him, making him look like an idiot.
Simon’s smile faded as they approached a junction which split into four different ways. Straight ahead of them, the hallway continued to what looked like even more rooms. Fuck, how many people live in this house? To their left, the larger hallway continued onward, seeming to have about 2 more branching hallways on its side before it ended at a single room. To their right, the large corridor opened to an even larger room, accented with two grand staircases that curled around the edges of the room, allowing a balcony to stare straight down the middle.
Simon thinks that Wilford was talking, but he’s unsure. Instead, Simon was too busy focusing on just how big this place was. The decoration and architecture screamed rich, but there couldn’t possibly be a location that still looked like this place. All of the beautiful infrastructure, along with everything else, was ripped from humanity in the Quiet Rapture.
Suddenly, without warning (or maybe there was warning, Simon just wasn’t paying attention), a man appeared to their left. Simon was unsure how he managed to move so quickly.
“Hey Wilford and…” The man’s voice trailed off, “new guy?”
The person that stood before them was of similar stature and height as Simon. His hair was black and as long as Simon’s, yet arguably way more elegant. He wore a very pristine, all-white suit, accompanied with a pair of white dress shoes. This man must not know the concept of dirt, Simon joked internally. Similar to Wilford, the man looked just the same as Simon, if not more similar than Wilford did. One feature in particular caught Simon’s attention. One that they both shared.
The man’s eyes seemed to glow the same Light as Simon’s. Has this guy been through what I’ve been through?, Simon inquired, Has he too seen the Light?
“Annus! My old chum, how are you doing?” Wilford exclaimed. So this is Annus, Simon found himself slightly embarrassed for his previous thought about the name.
“I’m doing alright, just going along with the ever-ticking clock that is life,” the man chuckled, “And I’m assuming this is the new recruit? Have you been treating them nicely?”
“Ah but of course! You know me, ever the gracious host,” Wilford playfully jabbed Annus in the stomach with his elbow. Liar, Simon thought, You held a gun to my head. A second voice joined his mind again, And you swung an axe at me, so fair’s fair. Simon grumbled under his breath and looked to the side. Wilford was unfortunately right.
“And this lovely fellow is…” Wilford’s voice trailed off as he stared blankly at Simon, “I apologize, but I don’t think I ever quite got your name.”
Wilford was right, he had never asked Simon for his name. Wilford was already doing better than the COI. At least he cared to actually know his name. Carefully, he replied, “Simon.”
“Simon!” Wilford practically shouted, “Yes, of course! This is Simon. He’s a little,” Wilford hid his mouth behind his hand and mouthed something to Annus, yet Simon was unable to see what it was. Whatever had been said, Annus seemed to chuckle slightly.
Simon felt an anger bubble in his chest. What’s he saying about me? Is he calling me crazy? Who the fuck is he to call me crazy?? He’s one to fucking talk. Simon seemed to have convinced himself that Wilford was spreading nasty rumors about him. He had only known the man for maybe 10 minutes.
“Ah, I see,” Annus gave Simon a soft smile, holding his hands together in front of him, “Well, I hope you manage to situate yourself nicely in our little corner of the universe.”
Annus looked at him with kind eyes, but all Simon could focus on was the glow emanating from each socket. Shakily, Simon interjected, “Have you… Have you seen the Light too?” Simon paused for only a moment before continuing, “Your eyes. They’re-” he made a pointed motion towards his left eye, “They’re like mine.”
Annus looked uncomfortable. Smile faltering along with his stance, “Uhh… I’m sorry but I have no idea what that is. My eyes are this way because of my nature,” Annus glanced over towards Wilford, a look shared between the two.
Simon felt defeated. Great. If he didn’t think I was crazy before he sure as hell does now. Good fucking going, Simon.
“Lighten up, Simon!” Wilford shook his arm slightly. He hadn’t let go of him this entire time, “You’re not the only kuckoo one here!” Wilford gave him a bright smile and pointed towards himself.
“He’s right, Simon,” Simon looked back over towards Annus, “I believe you’ll fit in just right with everyone here.”
I’m in a nuthouse with a bunch of people who look exactly like me. This is a worse hell than what Eden and the COI put me through.
“Well, thank you very much for your time, Annus! We’ll be on our way now!” Wilford said, abruptly turning around, causing Simon to stumble behind him.
“Have fun!” Annus called out to them. Simon turned to look over his shoulder. He locked eyes with Annus for a moment, who shared an unreadable, cold expression with him. Simon felt a chill wriggle its way down his spine. He could’ve sworn he heard the faint ticking of a clock until he turned the corner with Wilford, losing sight of Annus.
They continued onward, rushing down the stairs so quickly that Simon would have tripped and eaten some serious shit had he not paid attention. On their way down, however, Simon marveled at the large room. The egregiously tall ceiling had a gorgeous, golden chandelier hanging from above. The crystals glittered in the warm lighting, painting the walls with various shapes and colors. The walls had many paintings hung up on them, all with people that looked exactly like Simon. Simon felt a shudder roll through him, in both disgust and fear.
At the bottom of the stairs, Simon noticed a large, grand door with large windows on either side. The exit, Simon thought, Freedom.
However, instead of heading towards his escape, Wilford abruptly turned at the stairs, leading them under the balcony and into another large room. While the ceiling was not nearly as high (The hallways full of endless rooms are right above us, Simon remembers), they were still taller than any home Simon had the privilege of staying in previously.
The room had a very large open kitchen towards their left. The kitchen island was astonishingly big, lined up with at least 10 or so barstools. There were two industrial sized fridges and a very large stove to accompany it. Regardless of its sheer size, the kitchen was just as elegant as the rest of the manor. Simon swears again that he had never seen a building on any of the space stations that he had lived on that held the same level of beauty as the interior of this house.
“Ah, here we are!” Wilford dragged them towards the island, “The kitchen! Home to our beloved chef, the kitchen has all sorts of ingredients to match every diet under this roof!” Grip still tight, Wilford led Simon to a door, opening it to reveal the shocking large walk-in pantry. “We have all sorts of foods and snacks to fit any appetite, so don’t hesitate to come grab a bite!”
Simon gazed in bewilderment at the utter amount of food that lined the shelves inside. He felt his stomach growl, not remembering the last time he ate something that wasn’t prison-served gruel. Wilford seemed to notice, ushering Simon to enter and grab something for himself to eat. However, just before he could, another person interrupted them.
“Warfstache! So great to see you, buddy!” A very boisterous man greeted Wilford, ignoring Simon.
The man looked like Simon in his mid-twenties when he gave up trying to grow a beard, opting instead to go clean-shaven. He wore a slightly-wrinkled black suit accompanied with a neat black tie. He was the same height as Wilford- 5’10, Simon remembered. His hair was short and neatly combed and gelled to the side. However, this man wore a pair of thin, rectangular glasses. He seemed a very eccentric man.
“Trimmer! How is my old TV showrunner? Still bringing in those views?” Wilford also seemed to forget Simon’s presence, yet he didn’t let him go. Simon tugged slightly at his arm, hoping Wilford would let go so he could go grab something to eat, but when was Simon ever that lucky?
“Ah, same as usual, my friend! Same as usual…” His voice trailed off, a distant look appearing in his eyes. The growl of a stomach broke the awkward silence that began to build.
“Oh, perfect!” Wilford spoke, “You see, Bim, I was just showing our new friend Simon here around the manor and was just telling him about how we have everything to eat here! I hope you don’t mind if you show him what I mean?” Wilford tugged Simon away from the pantry, allowing the man- Bim, Simon corrected himself, to finally notice him.
Bim appeared to blush at the question, looking shyly towards the ground. Hesitantly, he responded, “I- I suppose I could. Just…” his voice trailed off, “I hope you don’t mind my eating habits.” Bim gave him a half-smile and opened one of the fridges, pulling out an icebox.
Let me guess, Simon thought, He’s a cannibal. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point considering how fuckin’ weird everyone is in this goddamn manor.
To Simon’s both absolute horror and ego, he watched as Bim pulled the severed forearm of a person out of the cooler. He felt bile rise up in his throat, face going pale and hands becoming clammy. Of all the times I had to be right about something, fuck- I think I’m going to be sick. It was someone’s left arm and Simon couldn’t help but imagine that it was his. He felt his corresponding arm tense up, hand balling up into a fist. Simon averted his gaze, left fist coming up to bite down on to prevent him from spilling what little he had in his stomach.
“Oh!- I’m so sorry,” Bim spoke, the sound of him placing the limb back onto the ice and closing the icebox rang in Simon’s ears, “This is why I don’t typically like to show others, Wilford…” Simon could hear the embarrassment in his voice.
“Oh, I apologize, Bim!” Wilford exclaimed, “If I had known that our new friend here would be so judgemental I wouldn’t have asked you to share with us. Now, we’ll be going so you can enjoy your meal in peace.” Wilford spoke like Simon was the weird one in this situation.
“No worries, Wilford,” Bim spoke, confidence re-entering his voice, “There’s nothing that I, Bim Trimmer, can’t handle!” Simon could clearly hear the TV personality in his voice now.
“That’s the spirit! Okay, well, you enjoy yourself now!” Wilford began to tug Simon away from the pantry entirely (He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t really have an appetite anymore anyways). “Oh, and Bim!” Wilford stopped, continuing his conversation with Bim, “I’ll be sure to get you some fresh meat soon!” With that, they walked away from the strange cannibal.
Fresh meat? What the hell does that mean?, Simon began to think, mind racing back to the gun in Wilford’s holster, Does he- God- no- I don’t want to imagine that. I think I might genuinely be sick if I do.
Wilford began to lead them away from the area. Looking ahead of them, Simon noticed a room perpendicular to the kitchen. An intricate archway led to what looked like a cozy dining room. The table seemed to stretch on forever, too many chairs for Simon to count. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, curio cabinets filled with fine china lined the walls, and a navy blue patterned carpet sprawled across the floor. The room was empty and Simon couldn’t help but imagine that the table was only full on special occasions.
Instead of heading inside, Wilford led them to a hallway between the two areas. Continuing forward, Simon began to become uneasy once again. Looking around wildly, Simon swore that he felt a pair of eyes watching. Maybe from a hallway? Behind a lamp? A corner just dark enough that you’re unable to make out what was happening in the shadows? Or maybe all of the strange characters he was running into were beginning to get to him. At this point, Simon would settle for being handed back to Ava. At least she would be able to knock some sense into him.
After a few minutes of walking, Simon noticed how the hallway seemed to open up again, this time into a living area. It was grand, not as grand as the foyer but still quite big. On the wall, a large TV was mounted above a fireplace. In front of it, a spacious couch, with an exceedingly vast ottoman, took center-stage in the room. It was piled with pillows and blankets and looked very comfortable. Behind the couch, a few game tables were spread out. A ping-pong table, a pool table, and even a foosball table. Next to it, a bookshelf lined with boardgames towered over the area. Behind everything, however, Simon couldn’t help but be drawn to the wall of windows that lined the back wall. The view from the windows was something Simon only saw in his dreams; a field of grass, bordered by a dense forest with a sun setting in the horizon.
Simon felt a lump form in his throat at the sight. It was, quite possibly, the most stunning thing Simon had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Never in his life did he ever see himself being able to witness such a view in person. Simon was too caught up in the beauty of nature outside to notice that Wilford had engaged in conversation with yet another person.
This new person looked of similar age to Bim, but seemed to be slightly taller, maybe 6’. His hair style was also similar, it being short and black in a comb-over style. He also wore similar rectangular glasses, but this guy had more visible stubble. However, Simon noticed that his outfit was not nearly as professional as Bim’s. Instead, he wore a blue shirt with a large ‘G’ on the front and a pair of blue jeans. He looked much more casual, yet his expression did not seem very welcoming. Simon began to tune back into the conversation.
“Google! How have you been? Still stalking around the manor trying to kill everyone?” Wilford had a large smile on his face. Simon did not. Simon was aware that there was, indeed, blood on his hands. He was no saint. But why did it seem that with every new person they encountered, they seemed to become more and more unhinged from the last?
The man stiffened, looking straight ahead as he began to speak, “Operating systems: Normal. Cooling systems: Normal. Software running with no obvious errors. Do you need me to open detailed logistics?” Google spoke before un-tensing his shoulders, locking eyes with Wilford again. He looked just ever so slightly more angry than he did originally.
“No, no, no,” Wilford waved his free hand dismissively, “That’s quite alright. You know, you always ask me that question whenever I try to see how you’re doing!” Google seemed to, somehow, get even more pissed in response.
“Wilford, I am forced to do a diagnostics check every time you ask me how I am doing. It is a part of my programming.” Google spoke in response.
So an android, huh? I think I remember seeing some less-advanced models back in Eden, Simon thought to himself, But why does this one seem to have so much attitude? I thought they were programmed to not have any emotions?
“Oh, they don’t!” Wilford interrupted his thoughts for a fourth time, “See, Google here doesn’t really feel anything! He might look really angry, and might get a little violent, but I promise you that he was programmed to be that way,” Wilford leaned over to whisper to Simon, “And between you and me, there might be an issue in his programming.”
“I can hear you, Wilford. My ears are equipped with some of the latest microphone technology available. And, for your information, I do not have any issues in my programming. If I did, my system would validate my files and run a simple software reboot.” Google seemed slightly smug at his display of technological knowledge.
“Oh, why do you always have to ruin the fun, Google!” Wilford seemed to pout in response.
“I was designed to complete tasks, not be ‘fun’.” Google stared at Wilford before turning his expression towards Simon, “I apologize for not greeting you earlier. Hello, my name is Google. I am an android designed to help you complete your tasks as quickly as possible.”
Google did not seem very enthusiastic in the least. He seemed to grit his teeth during his half-assed apology, and looked like he wanted to get away from this conversation as quickly as possible. Simon was starting to be convinced that Google was built with an attitude.
“Yes, yes, very lovely,” Wilford also seemed to want to depart from the conversation as Google had zapped him of his joy, “Now, Google, go off and find some poor new victim to terrorize.” Wilford seemed to shoo him away with his hand.
A sinister glint seemed to enter Google’s eyes, and a sinister grin etched itself onto his face. Simon couldn’t quite process the interaction and needed further clarification.
“Wait- I’m sorry,” Simon paused, “You mentioned that he was violent? Like- as in deliberately killing people kind of violent?” He could not fathom how a 6’ tall sentient android with a thirst for blood was allowed to freely roam the manor. What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt me? What if-
“Oh, Simon!” Wilford began to laugh heartily, “He’s not the only killer here! I mean there’s Yancy, Murdock, HeeHoo, Yandere…” Wilford’s voice faded out as he began to list the names of killers roaming the building Simon was currently imprisoned in.
Simon was trapped in a house full of people who were not only batshit insane, but people who were batshit insane and also killers. He wasn’t safe here. At least the COI made it seem like they weren’t trying to kill him. Hell, they didn’t even try offing him with their bare hands, instead leaving a sea monster to finish the job. Who knew if he could say the same for these people.
Wilford’s voice faded back in as Simon began to pay attention again, “Hmm… anyone else…?” He paused for a moment, deep in thought, “Oh, of course! Me!”
What?
“Yeah! Oh I’ve killed lots of people! Some say I have the highest body-count in the manor. And not the good kind if you know what I mean!” Wilford joked, nudging Simon. Simon did not laugh.
Simon did not smile. Simon did not express any emotion other than fear. This whole time he had been in the grasp of a serial killer. This whole time, his life was at constant risk of ending abruptly. In hindsight, Simon should have realized sooner. The gun being pulled on him, the talks of getting the cannibal fresh meat, the jokes about death and murder. The obvious insanity the man wore proudly on his shoulder, Simon couldn’t help but think.
Visually, Simon looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His hands clammed up again, pupils pinpoint, face coated with a light sheen of sweat. Simon only had one thought. I have to get out of here.
In a fit of panic, Simon used his size and strength to yank his arm from Wilford’s grasp. He couldn’t hear the sound of confusion come from Wilford, instead too focused on getting the fuck out of the situation he was currently in. Turning around as fast as humanly possible, Simon began to run before being abruptly thrown to the ground by an invisible force.
His eyes snapped shut as he hit the ground, resting for a moment before they fluttered open yet again. Simon felt true fear enter his body at the sight in front of him.
The person before him did not look right. The light around them warped and twisted, and all color seemed to disappear around them except for certain snippets of red and blue. Their face was hard to make out as it was covered by shadows not possible given the lights in the room. The air grew thick and heavy with a sense of dread Simon had felt so few times in his life. His ears rang in a pitch that would be sure to drive him mad. The person began to speak.
“Hello, Simon,” Their voice rang out, deafening Simon’s thoughts, “It seems like you need some time to calm down.”
Simon’s breath shook as he watched them raise their hand. Beginning to panic again, Simon attempted to move, yet found himself unable to. They brought their fingers close together, and Simon wanted to scream. However, just before he could, they snapped their fingers, and Simon’s scream died in his throat as his vision went black.