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Jordan Kennedy wasn’t sure how he got himself into this situation. So much had happened in the last couple weeks but he couldn’t seem to pick out a single specific part. There was the letter, and then there was... he couldn’t remember what was next, only that the nightmares had come, as they had for the last two years, but they seemed different now. The man with too many eyes, Jonathan Sims, The Archivist, was there before Jordan Kennedy. It was as if he’d never left, he almost couldn’t help but worry about the monster who stalked his dreams. Almost. But what happened in the dreams of Jordan Kennedy, and what he could and couldn’t remember didn’t matter much, the important part of the last two weeks was contained in that letter. It was an invitation, from The Magnus Institute. “Your statement has proven useful,” it had read, “let us repay you.” When he read the rest of the letter, he had immediately felt uncomfortable in his own skin, like someone’s gaze was crawling over him, and refused. He didn’t remember what had convinced him otherwise. He almost believed he hadn’t. He couldn’t think of anything that could’ve.
And so now Jordan Kennedy was standing in the front hall of an empty mansion, alongside what must have been at least a hundred other strangers. A hundred other strangers he didn’t know anything about, other than the fact that they were like him , they had gone to the institute, and it was safe to assume they regretted it too.
It was decorated like it was out of a magazine, with armchairs and couches arranged in small circles and a rug stretched out in front of a fireplace which the whole room seemed to be centered around at first glance. Emphasis on ‘at first glance’. Sitting on the mantel was an old portrait of a man, with a wicked sneer and sharp grey eyes, dressed like a regency dandy. His painted eyes seemed to stare right through Jordan, just like the monster that stalked his dreams did.
Jordan hadn’t realized how much he’d tensed up until he felt a hand on his shoulder, in what was clearly meant to be a reassuring gesture.
“You okay there?” A voice from behind him said. Jordan spun around.
“Yeah I just felt like I was... being... watched...” He trailed off. The man who had been standing behind him had a comforting smile and short blond hair, he had to be in at least his early forties, but he’d aged well. Nothing about how he dressed really stood out other than his dark blue bomber jacket, which was covered in space-related patches. What got Jordan was his eyes — the man standing behind him had stars in his eyes. But even that was an understatement, in the moment they made eye contact, Jordan could see a whole universe, with galaxies collapsing in on themselves and planets which had existed for centuries dying in a split second with no one to remember them. In that moment, Jordan suddenly and sharply learned that he was nothing .
But the man with stars in his eyes seemed to recognize Jordan’s shock and glanced away with a sympathetic expression.
“Makes sense, in a place like this.” He clapped him on the shoulder and stepped past him.
A woman had moved to the front of the room and was holding a piece of paper. She had long, black hair, loosely tied back and brown skin, she was dressed in a white button-down shirt and green pencil skirt. The man with stars in his eyes walked over to her and she looked up, with sharp green eyes Jordan knew far too well. The two spoke to each other in hushed voices as she showed him the paper.
“Do either of you plan to show the rest of us whatever the hell that is anytime soon?” A man leaning against something resembling a pool table spoke. His words were dry and quick, something about his voice made Jordan think it was safe to assume he was more than fluent in sarcasm. He had dyed black hair that was red at the roots, bloodshot dark brown eyes, with dark circles under them, and freckles that were poorly hidden under a cake-y layer of makeup, like he’d put it on the day before and never gotten around to washing it off. He wore a black bomber jacket over black ripped jeans and an acid-wash shirt.
The sharp-eyed woman looked over to him and spoke coldly.
“It’s a map with whose room is whose written on it.”
“Well then let the rest of us see it.” He walked over.
“Not yet. If everyone tries to look at it now it’ll be chaos.”
“Sure.”
“We need a way to let everyone know in an orderly way.”
The man with the dyed hair stayed quiet.
“If I may?” a woman from what seemed like the center of the crowd spoke. She was plain. That’s all Jordan Kennedy could register from her appearance. She was plain and she looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. It was more likely however, that they had never met, she just had that type of face, even if he couldn’t register what that face was . If you asked him, Jordan Kennedy would be unable to describe the dark brown hair, light brown skin and small black eyes belonging to the plain woman. But luckily, Jordan Kennedy has not been asked to describe her, as it was doubtful he’d even be able to remember the black pleated skirt, white button down and black sweater she wore, like a highschool band kid before a concert. She stepped forwards, so she was standing next to him. “There’s a whiteboard on that wall, I thought it might be useful.”
The man with stars in his eyes and the sharp-eyed woman turned to each other and spoke in hushed voices, the man with the dyed hair leaned in to listen. The sharp-eyed woman walked over to the whiteboard.
“That was a good idea, thank you.” The man with the stars in his eyes looked over at her and smiled. The man with dyed hair and the sharp-eyed woman seemed to be bickering behind him, but stopped once he walked over to them.
“All the rooms here have a number from two to sixteen, which is the floor number, and a letter. This says there should also be individual maps in each room, and there’ll be a plaque with the owner’s name on the door. We can do introductions tomorrow once everyone’s settled in.” The sharp-eyed woman spoke as the man with dyed hair wrote out names and room numbers on the whiteboard. Jordan saw his name next to “4F” and turned to the nearest staircase. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man with stars in his eyes along with a man with dark skin, glasses, and a matching jacket. His hair was unnaturally white in a way that seemed to glow, but Jordan paid it no mind, he was more focussed on the fact that there were people here that knew each other. He stood still with one hand on the railing as he watched the man with the stars in his eyes take the white-haired man’s hands in his and pull him in a direction which Jordan doubted was the white-haired man’s own room. As he turned to go he saw a man standing next to him. He had short brown hair, dull green eyes and wore a loose sweatshirt, the sleeves of which were pulled down to cover his hands, with jeans. He looked pale and sickly in a way that both Jane Prentiss and the man with the ant house had been, Jordan remembered that look well, but forced himself to be polite.
“Oh, hello.” He said as he started to walk up the stairs, the other man followed.
“Hello, I’m Timothy Hodge.” He stuck out his hand, which Jordan forced himself to shake, he could feel something moving under his skin.
“Jordan Kennedy.”
“I’ve heard.”
Neither of them broke the handshake, so the two just stood there awkwardly on the step, holding hands. After a painfully awkward silence, Jordan forced himself to speak.
“I’m going to need my hand back.”
Timothy let go. Jordan started to walk again in awkward silence.
“So... What’d you do to get in this mess?”
“I hooked up with a girl and she exploded into worms…”
Jordan tried not to laugh, he really did, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Were you really that bad?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Sure, sure.”
And they were back to the awkward silence as they reached the fourth floor.
Timothy Hodge slipped into his own room almost silently, “4c” was the room number. Jordan made a mental note and turned to the door that was apparently his, and as he opened it, Jordan Kennedy was greeted by a mirror, and looking back at him were those sharp green eyes he couldn’t seem to get a break from.