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The path to Darkiplier was a replica of what it always had been. You had traveled the likes of it plenty of times before.
The same guard waltzed by the same museum entrance holding the same poorly built flashlight. Nothing had changed. You rustled within the bush but even the subtle clanking of your gear was no use in getting the guard's attention. He was too focused on himself. It was comical, the way the guard’s idle whistling faltered only to the rattling of his own flashlight. In the end, his footing slowed and you watched him shake his flashlight back to life before disappearing around the corner. You’d wait for his footsteps to fade around the perimeter before vaulting over the stone wall you hid behind.
“Fucking idiot,” you muttered to yourself. With a practiced hand, you unlatched the grapple hook and shot up the wall. The hook at the end latched and you gripped onto the handle tightly as it ascended you up the wall. Through the ventilation system, you’d breached the museum. Mark would knock out the guard for you. Then, as planned, you’d both split separate ways to find the keys to the vault. Nothing about the story had changed.
If you wanted change to happen you’d have to instill it yourself.
After reaching the vault Mark stole the box, opened the sewer top, and jumped in with the assumption that you’d follow him in. You did and, lucky for you, you weren’t the careless one to slip into the sewer waste. Still, the sewer was damp and you shuddered as you collected yourself in the fowl environment. The man you knew so well was sputtering loudly, brushing at his face when you turned to check on him. You could only imagine what kind of gross substance he was wiping off of himself.
As if reading your thoughts, Mark glared. “Shut up,” he huffed out but waved you closer regardless. “Alright, come on.” You followed his lead. “I think we’re on the right path, and, if I know my plan correctly…” He pulled out the map and as you expected, the map was ruined by the wet filth of the sewage. “-I, uh...” Mark attempted to study the soggy remains of his map to no avail. “Uh, that’s alright! That’s okay because I have an impeccable sense of direction, and I-”
Just then a flashlight from a nearby set of cement stairs lunged out and footsteps followed the light downwards. “I think they went this way!” One guard was saying to another.
“Mark don’t-” You began to hiss but it was too late. Mark had tipped himself into a barrel of waste in hopes of hiding. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You would’ve glared at the stupidity but the voices and the flashlights were closing in fast. Unlike your accomplice, you ducked behind a metal pillar and held your breath. There you waited, and waited, and waited.
Eventually, the steps of the guards and their conversation tapered off and it was just the two of you once more. This was a good thing because Mark could only hold his breath for so long.
As if on cue Mark erupted from the barrel with a gasp. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from you as Mark flopped out of the barrel covered in sewage foilage and piss. You were still laughing and he fell onto his back and spat out the piss ingrained water onto the cement. “Oh god!” The look on his face was of pure disgust.
“I tried to tell you!” You managed out from your smugness.
Mark glared again, pointing at you as he scrambled to his feet. “Next time, you get the barrel.” He threatened.
“Uhuh. Sure thing Mark.” You’d never make such a grand mistake as that one. You’d know by now if you did. This wasn’t your first time at this point in time after all.
He’d ignore your comment, sniffling and blowing out micro substances as he collected himself on his feet. “Okay. Alright. Let’s keep moving. The sewers have to drain somewhere. So, all we have to do is follow the stream till we find the exit.” You nodded in agreement and followed him down the maze of pipes and cement.
—--
One thing lead to another and now Mark emerged from a pile of trash, shaking off maggots as he did so. You had advised against it and yet, here he was, shooting daggers at you as if you had shoved him into the trash yourself.
“You wanted me to do that, didn’t you?” Mark accused in honest frustration. You shook your head no but turned to offer him a rag. This was it.
When you turned back Mark was changed but so were you. You had been here before, eyes studying over Mark and his pristine suit. The grey suit always did fit him just right and, as wonderful as your partner looked, it wasn’t the suited man you were searching for.
You had changed too, slipping off your black turtleneck and stealth gear for a dark jacket and black gloves. These matched your Captain’s hat, which you tipped onto your head as Mark drank you in.
Now it was his turn to gawk with his mouth hung open. “Captain, I- you look like one. A Captain, I mean.” His eyes narrowed and you could see him trying and failing to piece the familiarity of your outfit together. “I-uh. I’m not quite sure how you did that but let’s just keep moving, yeah?”
You nodded in agreement. “Don’t think too much of it. I don’t want to pop that big head of yours.” Nothing could distract Mark quite like an insult could.
His lips pursed into a fine line. “My head isn’t that big. Why does everyone say that!” He was so busy ranting that you’d manage to slip him down the dark tunnel without him even noticing. “I have a perfectly fine-shaped noggin for your information! It matches my body type-have you seen my shoulders? They go with my head! It’s called a body type! Hell, when did you become so judgmental anyway and-is that a big red door?”
You both stopped in your tracks, Mark’s anger tapering off as his focus returned to the situation at hand. He scanned the lighting of the red door, then shifted his gaze to the hall continuing on beside them. “Okay, I see two exits, which means we uh-might need to split up.”
“No.” You deadpanned.
“Oh come on!” Mark pouted, “It’ll be fun-or it’ll be easier at least. Come on, we’ll just split up for ten minutes. We’ll meet right back here in no time and-”
“No.” You repeated and your brow rose as if to challenge Mark’s argument any further.
The childish whine to leave him was priceless and you watched, in amusement, as he flopped his arms to his sides like a child. Mark was practically a man-child as it stood in your mind.
“Aw, but I wanna go in the room!” He whined, Mark let out a dramatic huff as he flopped his body around and trudged back down the hall. “Oh, you suck!”
—--
After what seemed to be a mile of walking they finally reached the cult lair. This, if you remembered correctly, was exactly where you needed to be.
‘Thunk,’ you could hear the flashlight behind you landing and chipping on the floor. It’d flickered for your attention, to which, you turned to inspect it. You already knew Mark was gone, that was expected on this familiar route. Nevertheless, you kneeled in the dim light, glancing over the flashlight in a poor attempt to feign suspicion. Nothing happened.
Right. You had to turn around first. With a pause, you got up, dusted your Captain’s uniform off, and turned around.
You were met with a loud ringing, wood creaking underneath you as you lurched forward into the familiarity of the hallway. It was dim, just as you remembered, with the paintings of those you knew strewn about.
A light flickered on, “I thought I told you to stay outta my kitchen?” From the left came a voice. It was like a whisper, yes, but it was clear as day. You turned your head, glancing up at the somewhat terrifying chef in white. Dark had scratched his eyes out-at least, that’s what you assumed. After seeing the chef time and time again you wondered if maybe he was an alien the entire time. You had paid him on your date years ago. You had aggravated him plenty in the Markiplier manor. You even ran into a good few of him in the space diner. At this point, if the chef was an alien, you wouldn’t be surprised.
With a light popping sound and a soft buzz, another light to your right flickered on. Your phone had buzzed but this time you had chosen to ignore it. You were too caught up in your own memories to pay your blue screen any mind.
To the right, following the light, was a voice. “It’s so-it’s so clean…if only he was still alive!” The butler’s voice cried out against your ear. It was louder yet more difficult to understand due to the reverberation of his voice. Ben had always been a good guy, handsome too. Wherever he had gone, you just hoped that he was safe. The dark scratches over his eyes didn’t mean death, at least, that’s what you’d hope.
Your phone buzzed again in your pocket. This time you’d pause, pulling it out of your Captain’s jacket to silence it. All the messages were as you expected. This forced a huff out of you and you quickly shoved it away to continue on with your personal endeavors.
Another light from the left came from the right and there hung the detective. “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god damn gorgeous,” His voice muttered into your ear. You winced at that, shoulders tensing at the flashes of gunshots that echoed so viciously in the back of your mind. It was enough to make your blood run cold and you snapped your head a little too fast from the portrait and onto the next.
You never liked this part and the memories of it all. So many universes were vivid in your mind and each one haunted you in its own way. It was a curse, knowing the things no one should have to know.
You’d avoid William altogether. The strength you had fleeting as you stumbled past the Colonel. You were almost frantic, breath shallow, hat lopsided, and feet fast as they barreled you down the dark hallway.
No, you really didn’t like this part, not one bit.
Lights followed you overhead, coming to life as you fled past them from below. You didn’t recognize it when you crossed the threshold from hallway to darkness. The last painting of Mark never spoke up to make itself known so you just kept moving with your head ducked low until you reached an end. You would reach an end. You didn’t know the limits of Dark’s void but you collided with the back wall. This wall was darker than the night itself. The darkness didn’t look like a wall so, as you recollected yourself from the collision, you blurrily wondered to yourself the properties of the barrier before you. That was when the flakes began fluttering into view. At first, you could only stare, watching the substance as it fluttered over you and hit the ground.
It wasn’t just anything though.
The reality of the situation came back to you. With a distressed whimper, you kicked yourself backward and away from the painting of Mark which had been crumbling above you. You were still on the ground. In your shocked and pained state, you were smart enough to scramble away from the painting but too dizzy to return to your feet. This is how Dark would find you.
“Same snake, different skin,” Dark began. His footsteps were silent in the properties of the void but without looking you could practically see the way he halted in surprise. Before the white-suited entity was you, fallen on the floor, eyes wide, breath ragged, and on top of it all, you still had your Captain’s uniform on. The resentment that teetered on the tip of his tongue balanced out and he swallowed it for a later date.
“Well, hello Captain.”
You looked over your shoulder to the low echoed voice that reached out from the darkness. Everything was still a blur so two Dark’s waited behind you, both mirroring each other yet slowly coming back together. Eventually, the images merged and you focused on the single entity that waited patiently behind you. “Hi,” was all you managed out.
Dark could tell you were in a daze but he was also impatient. His skin itched, a red projection of himself banding forward. It took the rest of Dark with it which allowed him to teleport closer. “I must say. Out of all the outcomes, I wasn’t expecting this one.” He wore a white suit for you today; one that contrasted and wrinkled rhythmically with the grey of his skin. A ring presented on his hand glimmered in the red light of its owner. “How odd,” Dark seemed to muse to himself. He reached out to you, offering you a hand back onto your feet.
You took his hand gratefully, squeezing it as you stumbled upright. “You call it odd. I call it embarrassing.”
Dark huffed in response, rolling his head back to clear the hair from his face. They both knew it’d fall back sooner than later. “Those words are synonyms in my vocabulary,” he pointed out, “and do be careful next time. You can give yourself a concussion that way.”
Instinctively, you lifted your Captain’s hat and brushed your hand through your hair. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”
“As could anyone, really.”
Suddenly you were falling back into a chair. Dark had transported you to the warden’s desk where Dark himself awaited on the other side. He’d glitch as he’d pour you and himself a glass of wine. “I’ll grant you this one moment…Care for a drink?” He outstretched a glass to you as you adjusted to the new environment accordingly.
“Oh. No thank you,” you’d turn down the drink politely but your answer still seemed to agitate him.
“Fine,” he growled back. Dark retracted his hand and, instead of setting the glass down, he glitched and outstretched the glass to a duplicated version of himself that waited behind him. This illusion of Dark hummed and for a moment it seemed the entire galaxy rested in his eyes. You didn’t know the extent of Dark’s power, nor how it worked, but you knew it could be beautiful. This secondary Dark took the glass and sipped at it before disappearing from existence altogether.
Dark twitched, cracking his neck from side to side as he watched your fascination erupt behind your eyes. He couldn’t help but smirk at your amazement. “Amusing isn’t it?” The smirk didn’t last, dropping back into a neutral expression, “But I know you didn’t come here to be entertained.”
The growl in his voice pulled you back and you sat up, wide-eyed, at the entity before you. “No! No, sorry. I just…” Anxiety built up and you continued to swallow it back down. This is where you wanted to be. It’s where you needed to be and yet, here you were faltering. Memories had turned to fear, then fear to anger, and now you were gripping your gloved hands against the desk in a mock effort to control yourself.
Your hands shook and you squeezed your eyes shut to stop your jaw from locking up in pure frustration. Your first word was quiet. “Why,” you began slowly, “Why the Hell did you send me on that stupid god-forsaken quest?” A hiss, barely audible, escaped into your voice. “I-I nearly drowned, choked, burned, and got stabbed just so you could send me to space with this stupid fucking box!” You opened your bag and slammed the box against the table. The table rattled and something fell off of the table and, oddly enough, the item fell down into the endless void below.
The calm, unreadable expression on Dark’s face only fueled your anger. “It’s a box!” You seethed, “With a stupid warp crystal that you used-how the hell did you even use it without a temporal displacement device? It doesn’t make sense-none of this makes any fucking sense and I-”
You stopped mid-rant with a loud hitch to your breath. Dark teleported, sitting on the table before you. His legs were open in a masculine body language that, in itself was surprising. His legs dangled off of the table and his white dress shoes hung in a way that trapped you between them. The closeness and intimacy of the position would’ve set you a flame if the anger hadn’t beat Dark to it. The box had glitched, scooting over to the side so the entity could sit where it once had been. It was odd. The box always did act and emanate in a similar way to Dark. Perhaps the two were more connected than you realized.
But you couldn’t think about that now because now Dark was taking one of your retracting hands into his. With softened eyes, he focused his attention downwards and you could only watch as he massaged your hand in his larger ones. “It’s not fair, is it?” he began to soothe. The echo of his voice was still there but the ringing was subdued into a light hum that matched the gentleness of his voice.
You shook your head in confirmation. It made his eyes flicker and they bounced from your face, back down to your hand. “I don’t have the answers you want. I can tell you, Little Monster, that you are stuck in an endless cycle, but you already know that, don’t you?”
In rare moments like this, when Dark managed to reel back his anger long enough to comfort you, it was almost like you were talking to Damian again. You nodded once more.
Dark hummed at the confirmation, idly applying small pressure across your hand as he spoke freely. “All I can tell you is that there is no timeline. There is no definite universe. No matter what you do, Captain, you’re still going to be trapped within the realms of the manor…You’re still trapped in that mirror.” He could feel his work on your hand coming undone as you tensed under his light grip.
“You-you can’t be serious.”
The way you hiccuped drew Dark back in and he glitched, head snapping up in an unnatural lag that let him view the tears streaming down your face. The eerie ringing returned and Dark had to clench his jaw to stop himself from frenzying himself for the damage he’d just caused. Instead, with all he had, he contained the cracks in his shell. You’d feel him reach over and brush your tears away.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been good at jokes.” That wasn’t a lie. Even as Damian his jokes were mediocre at best. “But-” this time when he offered a glass of wine you took it gratefully. Something about that eased the tension in Dark’s shoulders and he teleported back to his seat. “-You’re free to stay here as long as you need to. I’m here for you.”
You’d down the glass of wine and sit up to retake the open space Dark had been occupying previously. You’d fold your arms and, with a sniffle, you slouched yourself over the desk. Tears still tumbled quietly down your cheeks and soaked into the sleeves of your Captain’s jacket as you laid your head down. Dark watched on in silent understanding which was more than you could ever ask for. “Thanks,” you rasped.
Dark reached over and offered a hand. You’d take it with your gloved one and linger. The entity didn’t seem to mind so you squeezed it gently and closed your eyes. You wouldn’t sleep. That in itself was too risky. For all, you knew you’d wake up in a bush, or in a cryo-pod, or in a jail cell. No, you wouldn’t sleep yet. You’d stay awake with Dark for as long as time would allow.
Dark wouldn’t confirm nor deny your suspicions, but for the first time in a long time he didn’t tell you to ‘go back to sleep.’
The entity was impatient-maybe tolerating at best, but deep down he also cared for you. For now, that’s all that mattered.