Chapter Text
If you were to explain how you had gotten into this mess in the first place, you would probably say that it all started with a 15 minute internet survey promising some quick cash, and a few wrong (right) answers.
You’d thought nothing of it. Why would you? The questions were perfectly normal, and you’d gotten your promised $20 out of it. And then a few weeks later, you woke up in an otherwise-empty waiting room with a receptionist calling your name and a membership card for Krueger Health Solutions Corporation in your hand. One ‘therapy’ session later (you maintain that a PhD in Marine Biology is not qualification to be a therapist, and you are not a dolphin thank you very much), you woke up (for real this time) with a psychopath for a penpal.
In an almost unsettling mirror to all of that, one week (and several emails) later, you wake up in an expanse of nothingness.
“Uhh… what the fuck,” you say to the void.
The void flickers in response, and you find yourself sitting in an all-too-familiar cyan room.
“Hello Taylor,” the man in front of you says, smiling pleasantly.
You blink. “What the fuck,” you try again, in case your dream decides to listen to you again and get you out this hellscape.
“Taylor,” he repeats.
Well. That isn’t working, then. “Yes. Hello. Can I go?”
Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll let you leave?
“You’ve just arrived, Taylor. Surely you aren’t thinking of leaving so soon?”
Or not. “I’m very tired. I need some actual sleep.”
It isn’t a lie. You may or may not have been avoiding sleep for the sole purpose of avoiding this meeting, which seems to have been pointless after all, since you’re here now.
Dr. Krueger’s smile becomes strained, but he doesn’t budge. “You will get the same quality of sleep regardless of whether or not you’re here.”
“I- If you say so.” You lean back into the chair and sigh, admitting defeat. “What will it be today? Therapy? Gushing about your arch-enemy? More math?”
“No, I’m afraid that you did poorly with the math. We won’t be returning to it,” he answers, completely glossing over your middle point. He doesn’t look embarrassed in the slightest as he shrugs. “I brought you here to talk.”
“So… therapy.”
“No. A conversation. Between friends. How have you been, Taylor?”
He looks so earnest that you can’t bring yourself to tell him that conversations between friends don’t generally start with one party getting unwillingly pulled into a dreamscape. “I’ve been doing okay. You?”
“I’ve been doing very well. You remember the arch-enemy I spoke to you about?” He continues after you nod. “I spoke to him again.”
And… you were right. More gushing about his arch-enemy it is. “It was a good talk, then?”
“Yes.” Dr. Krueger’s smile is positively angelic at this point. “It was.”
“That’s nice. What did you talk about?”
“This and that.” Before you can tell him that no, that isn’t really an answer, he continues, almost absentmindedly. “I’ve been wondering if I should go and pay him a visit. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other face to face.”
“Visit him like this, or in person?”
While you are genuinely curious about his life, you’re not really sure what you’re doing here. You’re a college student holding a normal conversation with a man who plucked out someone’s eye to use in a game of cups and balls. There is something deeply wrong with this picture. Speaking of-
“You returned the eye, right?”
He looks briefly puzzled at the change in topic, before he answers. “The eye from the shell game? Of course. I only needed to borrow it momentarily. Though he won’t find any use for it any time soon.”
“What do you mean?”
He laughs and waves your concerns aside. “Don’t worry, he’s perfectly fine. We returned his eye, and reimbursed him for the loss of sight with a prosthetic.” When you don’t look any less concerned, he pauses. “This should be common sense, Taylor. You cannot remove a person’s eye and expect their sight to be restored with it’s return.”
“Oh. Right.” You tap your fingers against the arms of the chair. Where are you going with this? The silence (are you supposed to respond?) is going to destroy you.
“You’re the CEO of Krueger Corp.” You butt in as soon as Dr. Krueger opens his mouth to begin speaking again. “You must have better things to do than this.”
He tilts his head, considering. “Well, frankly speaking, yes.”
“Then why are you doing this?” You gesture to the room. None of this makes any sense whatsoever. “What do you want from me? An eye?”
He laughs at that, mouth splitting into a sharp grin, canines on full display. “If you’re offering.”
Well, if you’re going to die anyway, you might as well try and leave. You’ve had enough of this. But as you begin to stand, he clicks his tongue and continues. “Ah, but as I’ve said before, I enjoy talking to you, Taylor. You are a nice change of pace.”
You drop back into your chair. “You’re... doing this just because you want to?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” You aren’t sure how to deal with this now. “I-”
“You’re free to leave if you truly want to,” he says, smile dimming. “I won’t bother you again.”
You glance over at the door, the brass handle set into polished wood, but you don’t move, guilt weighing you down like an anchor. You’ve been doubting his intentions, but all he wants is a conversation. A friend.
This is your first and last chance to leave. You were pulled into this against your will, but- you glance back at him. He’s still smiling (you don’t think you’ve ever seen him not smiling, aside from that split second where you had turned the paper around to see the drawing of his arch-enemy), but there’s something forlorn in it, as if he’s certain what choice you are going to make.
“No,” you decide. “I’ll stay.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, all traces of the previously morose atmosphere dissipate instantaneously, and his smile widens as if it had never changed in the first place.
The realisation takes but a moment to make.
“You were guilt-tripping me.”
“I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Taylor.”
“Dr. Krueger-”
“I’m Albert to friends. In fact-” he pauses in consideration and turns to you, eyes bright, smile wide. “Let’s start over.”
“I am Albert Krueger. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand.
You only hesitate for a moment before taking it. “I’m Taylor Lee. It’s nice to meet you too.”