Inner Workings

In this story inspired by Silent Hill, readers will be able to vote for what Robert does at the end of every chapter! Although they will not be labeled, each choice is aligned with one of two routes:

Red Route "The gods are beholden to man, for it is he who creates and shapes and destroys them."

Blue Route "The heavens move; the earth follows. The heavens speak; the earth listens. The heavens command; the earth obeys."

These two routes each have their own challenges and struggles for Robert. They will also feature different characters from the Dispatch cast, including the Z-Team. At the end of each route, Robert will face a final boss—one of the two forces vying for his loyalty.

Both routes, however, are destined to be bad endings, but the story won't stop there.

After achieving one of the endings, the story will be rewound to the beginning. Readers will have a chance to vote for the same outcome or for a different, including:

True Route "I am the earth and the man who resides upon it. I am both the gods and the heavens they rule over."

Will you find all the secrets of this world? Will you lead Robert down the right path?

Chapter List:

Prologue (1 - 2)

One (1 -2)

Two (1 - 2)

Three (1 - 2)

Four (1 - 2)

Five (1 -2)

Six (1 -2)

Seven (1 - 2)

At the height of the heat, Robert begins to feel a touch delirious. His vision swims slightly. It is so bad that he misses the drop-off at the end of the stairs. While the distance isn’t that great, it does cause Robert to fall onto the ground. The noise he makes echoes down a long hallway with an unseen end somewhere in front of him. 

He receives a response in the form of laughter. Pink light crosses over the ground he’s staring at it for a split second. He tilts his head back to find Visi leaning her shoulder against the wall. She smiles at him, dark eyes glittering in the pale blue glow of his arm. She nods toward his current situation. “Stick your ass up a little.”

“Visi,” Robert murmurs. He glares at her, but tiredly. But half-seriously. Mostly, he’s happy to see her. He’s happy that she looks and sounds like the Visi he knows, not like all these other imposters who have only hurt him. Unfortunately, he can see that she isn’t soaked in sweat. She isn’t breathing heavily. She isn’t even a little flush. She doesn’t feel the heat that is blowing right through this underground circuit. She isn’t any more real than anything else is, so he feels comfortable asking, “Where are we?” 

“A five-star restaurant filled with rich bitches,” Visi jokes. She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Where the fuck do you think we are, Leuitenant Dan? You’re the one who came here.” 

“Why would an observatory have a basement open to the public?” Robert continues. 

Visi’s glare sharpens. “I don’t fucking know. I’m the one that runs this shithole, and I couldn’t care less who gets to enter their basement. Not like there are many places off-limits to me.” 

Why do the illusions have to go with realism now? Robert would very much like to talk to someone that actually knows what’s happening, or could give him a clue. He would even take it being mixed up in this philosophical bullshit everyone has been spouting at him like he understands this cosmic game he’s been put in the middle of. 

Robert pulls himself onto his feet. He leans heavily against the far wall. He takes deep breaths. Each step makes him feel even more off-balanced than before, but he perseveres by continually wiping his body down with his damp clothes. It isn’t making him feel much better. In fact, his vision remains in a constant state of flux, bringing the end of the hall closer and further away in rapid succession. 

Visi doesn’t help. “Just take the whole shirt off.” 

Robert glares at her from the corner of his eye. She rolls both of hers, disappearing from his sight. Her footsteps fade away from him. With a sigh, Robert just gets himself to the end of the hallway. 

It opens up into a large room. There is a desk with a single computer in the corner to his right. The majority of the room is clear until Robert realizes that what he thought was a complete wall was actually dozens upon dozens of boxes stacked together. They take up over half the room, stopping just before a metal vault door. 

Visi reappears, sitting on the desk beside the computer. Robert glances over at her. She has her feet propped up on a chair he didn’t see before her invisibility turned off. Without looking at him, Visi says, “You know, the Red Ring helped pay for this shithole.” 

Robert pauses. The information takes a moment to register with how scattered everything inside his head is. “What?” 

“Yeah, got the money docs right here,” Visi tells him. She lifts her hand to reveal a stack of papers. Robert takes them from her, and Visi lets him. As he’s looking through financial records and checkbooks, Visi adds,  “Wonder what they were trying to do.” 

Robert continues flipping through the papers. Through sheer force of will, he pulls his awareness together to focus on what they say. Or, more accurately, the story they are telling him. “It must be a base of some kind. Or a means of laundering money. Or…” 

Robert goes quiet. Visi leans forward. The chair’s four legs all drop to the ground. She gets real close to him, peering up directly into his eyes. “...or? Don’t leave me hanging. You know I’ve never looked good with a noose.” 

He frowns, though not because of her strange comment. He taps the papers against his fingers. He considers everything he’s been told so far. The other pieces of evidence from the other rooms. An image is starting to form in his mind despite how this heat wants to kill all his brain cells. “Shroud is the kind of person to have… contingencies. He would’ve known there was always a possibility of death. How does a man become immortal?” 

Visi smirks to herself. “He tells death to fuck off?” 

“Maybe…” 

“What? You think the stars had something to do with this shit? You are off your fucking rocker.” Visi leans back. She gives him an assessing look like that time in the bathroom. “It’s kind of hot in a… maybe for one night kinda way.” 

Robert puts the papers back on the desk. He frames his hands around them. He leans forward, letting his weight sink onto the surface. His sweat stains the paper like tears. “I don’t… I don’t know what he did. I just have this feeling that he did something and this observatory was part of it.” 

Visi shoves the chair aside with her feet. Robert jumps at the clattering sound. Visi drops onto her feet. She spins around the chair. When she stops, she hooks her thumb over her shoulder at the vault’s many locks. “Well, while you’re chasing a ghost, how about you figure out how to open the door?” 

“Open the door?” 

She nods. She turns her fingers toward the desk. “Yeah. Check the computer. It’ll help you.” 

Suddenly, she disappears. “Visi?” Robert steps forward, swinging his arms around with what limited energy he has left. “Visi!” She does not reappear. She does not make a noise. She is gone, and Robert is alone once more. “Ugh, dammit.” 

Not wanting to deal with any more bullshit, he turns his attention to the computer. The program it was running opens immediately, no sign-in or loading required. It’s because the only thing the computer can do is show him a security feed of the room. The angle is weird, though. It’s straight-down, showing the entire floorspace that isn’t covered in boxes. 

“What the hell does this have to do with anything?” Robert asks himself. The computer doesn’t give a straight answer. Nothing else in the room does, either, and Visi doesn’t seem to be giving out hints any time soon. Sighing, Robert drops down into the chair. He stares at the screen, letting his fingers mindlessly flip through the pages. 

With all the puzzles, there has been a through-line. Everything is connected. The computer, the boxes, the papers—they are his clues. Or his pieces. He just needs to figure out what they mean and how they connect. Easier said than done when it’s hot as hell and he’s frequently distracted by his inhuman appendages, but Robert isn’t going to quit. Or worse, die. 

Robert glances back at the papers. He goes over the statements, one after another, searching for… anything, really. What he finds are inconsistencies. At first, he thought the Red Ring simply sucked at finances, but there might be something more to it. Without any other leads, Robert begins investigating. 

Each inaccurate transaction is paired with an alphabetical assignment to distinguish it from all the others. Robert uses that to track down letters that could form a code. He does come up with a word. Or two. NOSAVIORS. No saviors. Robert doesn’t think about it further. 

Carrying the papers with him, Robert stumbles across the room to the vault door. Unfortunately, he can’t find any way to insert a code. He only finds an inscription telling him one is necessary. But how could that be if there isn’t a place to put them? And how does the computer and boxes fit into this solution? 

Robert goes to the center of the room. He tilts his head back. It’s too dark for him to see the ceiling or the camera that must be hanging from it. Robert sighs, turning his head. The computer screen appears in his peripheral vision. When he looks at it, he notices that there is a red box around what must be himself. Robert runs over to the screen, but the box is gone by the time he gets there. Needing a way to see what it said, Robert goes to the boxes. He only takes one, setting it in the center of the room. At the computer, the red box is still there, along with a little note above it. PASSWORD INCORRECT.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

No one tells him that he’s being fucked with, so Robert sighs. He sets the paper down on the desk. He goes to the boxes. He pulls them down one-by-one. He starts to spell out the code he found. What must be an hour later (if not an eternity given how he’s working in this hellish heat), Robert has the word spelled out. The computer screen shows a bright green box, and he imagines it’s paired with the words PASSWORD CORRECT.

The vault’s gears start spinning around. In the minute it’s going to take, Visi reappears beside him, sitting atop one of the boxes. She swings her legs, hunching forward to whisper into his ear. “Take my advice, Rob, and don’t play the hero. You’re only going to hurt yourself.” 

The vault door opens. Robert walks over to it. There is only darkness on the other side. Thankfully, he feels the trickling of a cold breeze. It reminds of Visi’s words. He glances over his shoulder at her as he steps through. She remains where she was sitting with Shroud’s mask over her face. Robert jerks back to question her, but the vault door slams shut, leaving him in darkness and silence and coldness. 

He doesn’t have a clean answer for that, but he knows for a fucking fact that he isn’t going to follow that cruel simulcrum wearing Chase’s face or the grotesque beast following behind it that took Robert’s hands from him. He’s grateful for whatever truths he learned, but it wasn’t worth it to dance along to his morbid song. 

Robert came to SDN seeking safety. He leaves it knowing damn well that isn’t possible in this forsaken city, not with the dragon and giant—or whatever they’re supposed to represent—spreading their influence in the form of a fog. 

A fog that persists even as Robert steps onto the street outside. His steps continue forward, bringing him to the center of an empty road. He looks around, searching through the mists for enemies. Brown eyes are drawn upward by a series of quick motions. The fake Chase told him it wasn’t actually a dragon and giant fighting, but that’s what Robert sees battling on the horizon. Unfortunately, they’re too far and the fog is too thick for Robert to catch every detail. All Robert can see is that they are viciously attacking each other. The giant seems to bat the dragon away, sending it crashing into the ground far below it. 

“You should help.” 

Robert turns around. He knows at this point that this can’t be the real Coupé, but it certainly looks like the villainess he fought during the Red Night. She steps out of the fog. Her wings spread away from her to give her a more imposing figure when she stops beside him. She nods her chin at the battle in the distance. “It will continue toward eternity unless the scales are tipped.” 

“And which way should they tip?” Robert muses. He didn’t read many fairytales as a child, but he knows a few just from needing a way to distract kids while saving them. He knows that dragons and giants are often the villains in their respective tales. But who is the bigger villain? Is one of these enemies good in the real world, or is Robert being asked to pick the lesser of two evils? 

“The decision has always rested on your shoulders,” Coupé answers. She steps forward. Her wings begin flapping to clear out the fog. It reveals a massive wall barring his path. There is no door, only what appears to be an electronic puzzle. Coupé turns, swinging her arm as if to guide Robert right to it. He huffs to himself, striding forward to examine the puzzle more closely. He tries solving the puzzle, but nothing on the screen will respond to him. Coupé is the one who taps the corner of the screen where a blinking icon is displayed. Robert runs his fingers across it. He doesn’t know what it means, but it’s clearly all he needs to know because Coupé is no longer with him. 

Looking around brings Robert’s attention to a line that runs down the screen and onto the street. It appears only at certain angles when the light reflects across it to make red. Robert follows the line for the first few steps. He has to reorientate himself constantly to keep the red in his field of vision. 

Robert freezes suddenly. He looks ahead on the path to find a chimera pawing at the ground—a mixture of a jackal and a crocodile, if Robert were to guess. He raises his fists forward yet avoids looking at the glowing blue appendages as much as possible. He refuses to accept that he matches with the monster in front of him. 

Blank eyes look up at him. This chimera does not attack. It returns to its previous activity of searching for the line on the ground. Robert keeps his eyes narrowed. He readies himself for any sudden movement as he walks past the chimera. It does not acknowledge him at all. Robert knows why the chimera would refuse to fight him, but it isn’t anything he wants to deal with. 

The end of the line brings Robert to an obelisk hovering above the ground. He makes the mistake of touching it with the chimeric hand. The obelisk flashes blue, revealing itself to have been made of screens. This acts like an alarm system to summon the strange puppets to itself. Robert grumbles in annoyance. Without turning around, he throws his elbow back into the automaton’s mask. As the metallic creature stumbles back from the force, Robert whirls around to slam his fist into it hard enough to knock the automaton onto the ground. 

A gut instinct compels Robert to raise his hand. A white symbol fogs up against his palm before a blast of light is shot out. It causes a hole in the puppet that sends the thing sprawling onto the ground. 

Robert turns his hand back around to look at his palm. He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what that was. Before he can examine it further, he hears metal clanging behind him. He finds that Coupé has turned off the remaining puppet. She glances up at him, “You do not need to examine that.” 

She presses her hand into the obelisk. The screens flash red. Though that should symbolize danger, nothing is summoned to the obelisk this time. The line, instead, suddenly deepens in hue. Robert hears the chimera from down the alleyway scramble away from it. 

“When you solve the puzzle, the gates will open. The observatory shouldn’t be far. Head down to the underground section. A friend will be there to guide you to the scales where you will make your decision.” 

Coupé touches him for long enough to turn him around and shove him forward. He walks, knowing that she won’t be behind him if he turns back. 

With the obelisk having been turned on, the puzzle now responds to his touch. It’s similar enough to hacking that he isn’t bogged down by its intricacies. Soon, he’s stepping back to watch the gates slide apart from one another. The fog clears from the general area to reveal the observatory standing tall and proud, completely new and not yet opened to the public. 

Does Robert dare step inside? 

And if he does, where should he go? Investigate the stars that seem to force his fate, or descend into a darkness that lies to him as much as it protects him? 

But the person does not jump down. They remain balanced on the edge in a squatting position. They stare down with dark, familiar eyes. Surprise causes Robert’s grip to loosen. Before he can plummet downward, he manages to catch himself. He jerkily clings harder to the ladder, hugging it as tightly as he can. He keeps his attention pointed upward, though, unable to move away from or towards his father’s apathetic gaze. 

“Dad?” He whispers. Robbie does not verbally respond, but the sudden noise does break whatever frozen state has befallen him. He pushes his hands against his knees, rising into a standing position. His eyes linger on Robert even as he turns. It only snaps away when he starts walking. His footsteps echo in Robert’s head long after he’s out of sight. 

“Dad! Wait!” Robert shouts. He pulls himself out of the opening as quickly as he can. He looks around the unfamiliar room for a familiar back. Robbie is visually gone, but the sound of his footsteps guide Robert to leave the room. It continues, pointing him in the direction of the hallway where his father must be walking. A self-protective instinct readies the gun in his hands, yet he keeps it pointed downward as he checks every room along the hall for where the ghost of his father could’ve gone. 

His father doesn’t reappear. Instead, Robert finds that the bullpen has been drastically redecorated. By that, Robert means it’s been destroyed. Though the walls hold steady, they are covered so thickly with dark green vines that the paint beneath can no longer be seen. The floor is cracked, shoved further apart by the tree trunks growing from the darkness. They crash into the ceiling, creating mirrored lacerations in the plaster. The lights have fallen like hollowed corpses, only occasionally sparking with the electricity of life. A deep blue, bioluminescent algae- or mold-like substance grows over the fallen parts and the few desks that are steadily tarnishing. Robert can no longer hear footsteps but rather creatures of the forest scuttling and running and flying all around him, unseen in the edges of the shadowy darkness. 

Other than the strange substance, there is another light source. Robert approaches it carefully. Even when he recognizes who the light belongs to, he keeps his grip on the gun in his hands tight. He taps the side right beside the trigger, wondering why it isn’t that hard approaching Chase with this weapon in his hands. 

“Chase…” Robert reluctantly calls out. The man sitting in a chair separated from any desk tilts his head to the side. He meets Robert’s eyes. When the boy approaches, he doesn’t use his speed or flight to disappear. This fact fills Robert’s chest with a strange calmness. He rushes forward to close the distance, kneeling beside him. “Chase! Fuck, I’ve been—I’ve had a day. There’s this weird fog outside. And I think I killed Sonar. I’m not sure if it was him. Galen’s gone. Prism might be. I saw El—Shroud and-and my father! They didn’t say anything. I could be hallucinating. I definitely hallucinated some radio messages and a telephone call asking me a strange question. I—” 

“God-fucking-damn, boy, shush,” Chase interprets. His voice unmistakably belongs to the person Robert knows so well. He sighs in relief, shoulders lowering from where they’d been tensed up. “You can’t just drop all that shit on me all at once. Take a fucking breath, and let’s go a little slower. The fuck are you talking about?” 

Robert takes a breath. “A lot has happened to me… but haven’t you looked around? What happened here? Does it have anything to do with the fog outside?” 

Chase lifts a shoulder only to drop it, a lazy excuse for a shrug. “More or less. The fog belongs to your sorry-ass; all this around us is the stars’ bullshit. You’ve been on fucking track to making those statements different.” 

The stars again… Robert was told to stay away from them. It seems he wandered right into their territory. It shouldn’t surprise him given the color of the bioluminescent gunk spreading across the broken lights.

“Back the fuck up. What do you mean the fog is mine?” 

Chase gives him the same look he did when he was a little kid asking a question that should’ve had an obvious answer—mystified, amused, and patient. “You don’t want to see the truth, so the fog won’t let you fucking see it. If you did, you’d see the dragon and knight fighting. It’d probably literally blow your fucking mind, and no one wants to clean that shit up.” 

“Dragon and knight?” Robert murmurs. He shakes his head. “Okay, Chase, I need you to assume that I don’t know anything. What the hell is going on?” 

Chase sighs. He turns in the chair to face Robert head on, even leaning down to put their eyes closer together. “A war has been brewing for a very long—and I’m fucking talking about very long—time. Small skirmishes have happened through the years, but they’ve decided your ass is going to be the climatic battle. And you’re scared shitless, so you can’t see it happening. Well, it’s too late for that. Open your damned eyes and clear away that fucking fog.”

Robert leans back. The words settle very slowly in his mind. He isn’t even sure he’s fully grasped them when he asks. “And it’s between a dragon and knight?” 

Chase’s expression hardens, genuine upset and anger coloring the wrinkled skin and dark eyes tinged with the amulet’s inhuman glow. “If that’s all you can accept right now, go right fucking ahead. But it’s more than that. You’ll see. Just look towards the stars; they’ll guide you to where you need to go.” 

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look at the stars?” 

“Who the fuck told you that?” 

“I was trying to tell you this earlier! There’s been some weird radio messages, and—” 

“Don’t listen to the fucking radio! Clearly, it has led you astray if you’re spouting that bullshit.” Chase’s eyes flick down to the gun Robert still hasn’t released. “And if you’re still holding that metallic piece of shit.” 

“I…” Robert doesn’t have an excuse. He grabbed it to feel safer. The worst part is that he does. It worked on that vulture chimera, after all. Why wouldn’t it work on the other chimeras wandering around this star-fallen area?

“You can make this right. Listen here, you little shit, it’s not too late to pick a different path. The stars are offering you another chance,” Chase claims. Robert’s eyes snap to him when the man rises into a standing position. He smiles at Robert, kind and courteous, before ripping the gun from Robert’s hold. He, then, slams the sole of his foot into Robert’s chest. 

The action itself hurt as does his tail bone hitting the cracked floor below. It is nothing compared to several sharp knives sinking into the tender flesh of his forearm. He glances over his shoulder to find his lower arm in the gaping maw of a chimera. His own red blood flows over the glowing white teeth as sharp as blades and the bioluminescent fungi growing from the creature’s fur. 

Before Robert can deal with that, he feels a smaller but sharper pain in his other arm. He reluctantly turns his head away to find a snake’s fangs in his wrist. The venomous land-crawler moves back. When Robert follows it with his eyes, he realizes this is the chimera’s tail. It poisoned one arm and is going to tear off the other. 

“Chase—help—” He turns his eyes up. Chase stares down with a vast, empty nothingness in his eyes—as if he isn’t Chase at all. Robert doesn’t have a chance to figure out who it is because another wave of pain hits him. He curls inward, struggling to bring breath into his lungs and to force nausea out of his throat. The conflicting sensations leave him choking on vomit, which is the least of worries. The poisoned arm is spasming. His veins and arteries are growing more pronounced with a golden ichor that burns like someone poured lava directly into his bloodstream. Robert thinks this might actually be the case when the skin around surpasses redness to a disfigured quality like it’s melting and burning from the inside. 

His other arm also feels like it’s on fire but for completely different reasons. To make matters worse, it also feels like it’s growing colder from the blood loss. It collects in the cracks in the floor. Chunks of flesh and skin bob in those crimson pools as Robert tries to pull his arm free. 

Robert’s efforts are in vain. The chimera’s neck snaps back, bringing its face and jaw with it. The force is enough to tear skin apart. Some of the vomit trickles over Robert’s lips alongside a scream gradually increasing in volume. Flesh is shorn next. And once the bone audibly cracks, Robert’s arm is swallowed whole by the chimera. 

Tears and sweat mix together against Robert’s cheeks. He shoves out the rest of the vomit and sob, only to end up breathing unevenly. He can’t tell if the stub or the poisoned arm hurts worse. He can’t even draw a comparison as cold shock rushes through his mind.

But even as his vision blurs, Robert sees Chase step forward. He grabs Robert’s remaining wrist. No matter how gentle the touch actually is, it sends another shockwave of pain through Robert. His entire body convulses hard enough to send him splayed out against his back. Chase’s expression doesn’t change as he adjusts. Robert continues shaking as Chase hangs Robert’s hand over the stump. With a ceremonial knife, Chase cuts Robert’s palm. Golden ichor pours out of the laceration, joining the crimson blood still flowing from Robert’s arm. With shaking eyes, Robert watches the ichor wrap around the perimeter before extending outward. 

At the same time, the original arm has finally burned away the skin to reveal the same blue light forming the chimeras. The golden ichor creates something similar on Robert’s other arm. In a matter of seconds, the blue light is forming his arms from his elbow to his fingertips. He can vaguely see the golden ichor circulating through the new limbs. 

The pain remains, however, unending and mind-numbing. He turns his eyes to Chase since the rest of his body can’t move. “...why…?” 

“Suffering is the story of humanity. It is the gods who take that suffering away. They extract you from the seas of chaos to grant you the respite of order. It is only with their blood that you may ascend, and to the very heights of the welkin you will go, Robert. Heed not the calls of the earth and all that lies below. They will lead you on a path of manufactured agony that will only end in the entirety of existence dissolving in that sea of chaos. The path to the stars is the one that will grant peace and eternity.” 

Chase walks away. The chimera follows after him, jaw still glistening with Robert’s blood. Each of their footsteps causes the weird fungi that wraps around the chimeras’ eyes to shoot up from the ground. In time, they disappear into the darkness that only the fungi’s light illuminates. 

Robert sighs, slumping further onto the ground. He blinks away the lingering tears in his eyes, ignoring his own blood beneath him.

Robert turns around, intending to return to the surface to switch his route. He freezes when a shadow falls over him. A figure stands at the top of the ramp. The darkness is too thick for Robert to confirm the person’s identity, but he recognizes the electronic blue eyes of Shroud’s mask. Robert scrambles upward right as Shroud flicks his fingers down. In the same way as but slower than a garage door, the entrance is sealed. Robert brushes right up against the metal, unsure how he’s supposed to break through it when his only weapon is an electric baton. 

There are other ways to bust down a door. Robert’s inquiries into which the easiest would be are shut down by a clear noise slicing through the staticky silence. He glances over his shoulder. He sees nothing in the darkness, but he knows that growling noise came from its depths. That doesn’t mean he knows exactly where it was, or how close it is to him, or even what kind of creature could make a sound like that. 

Robert’s fingers press into the nearest wall. It guides him downward to the bottom of the ramp. He presses the button on his baton. Red lightning races across the end. It fills the space with a deep ruby light. Although wider than the decline he came from, it is only a tunnel made from stone and mossy bricks. There are a few puddles collecting among the cracks in the concrete. Words written by mole-people are on the wall. Unfortunately, Robert only recognizes the language; he doesn’t understand it. 

Even worse, whatever creature made that noise is not in the first tunnel. It must be from a creature deeper down. What mess did he get himself into? And how does he get out of it? 

Robert walks to the edge of the tunnel. He turns off the baton to preserve its energy and functionality. In the darkness, he uses the wall he’s touching to guide him forward. This still presents him with the problem that he doesn’t know how to get to SDN. He shouldn’t have trusted that damn puppet masquerading as his friend. He wouldn’t be stuck in this mess otherwise. 

He could beat himself up over his choices some more, but that would require his attention to pull away from another growling noise. It’s much closer this time. His ears prove that, but his eyes do as well when he sees red dots starting to emerge from the unfathomable darkness surrounding him on all sides. When it gets too close for comfort, Robert’s thumb digs into the button on the baton. The lightning’s glow covers the rest of the creature sporting the red dots. 

It is a creature remarkably similar to Sonar’s bestial form. In fact, it might just be that, unless this is another illusion cast over a puppet. It’s not a very good one since this bat-monster is covered in machines and metal. That’s where most of the small pinpricks of red light came from. The rest would be the creature’s bloodthirsty eyes, so inhumane that this really can’t be the Victor Robert knows. Another one of his friends’ appearances has been taken from them, likely just to hurt Robert. The disrespect angers him as much as staring into this creature’s eyes terrifies him. 

The beast remains at the edges of the lightning’s glow. Robert moves the baton forward toward the creature. It skitters out of the glow, getting as far away as it can. That gives Robert some clues about how to solve this problem. It isn’t a perfect solution, however, and he isn’t sure what he’s going to do. Fight the beast? Hurry on ahead to find SDN? Search the tunnels for clues about what the hell is happening? 

The choice is made for him when the lightning comes to a stop. Without the light, the red dots rush toward Robert. Muscle memory still intact, he dives forward to avoid getting eaten or clawed by the creature. He rolls across the wet ground. Despite hating the way his shirt now clings to his skin, he pushes forward into a run to avoid the creature bounding after him, trying very hard to keep himself near the wall beside him. This pays off when there’s a turn he wouldn’t have been aware of otherwise. He swings himself over the side, continuing to run even when the creature continues forward for a few more paces. 

Robert doesn’t stop running until he sees a faint light. It grows stronger and stronger the closer he gets to it. When Robert’s vision becomes accustomed to it, he realizes that it’s a room. An office, by the looks of it, with a window showing the warm glow of the interior. The door is made from metal, but it isn’t locked. Robert effortlessly slips inside, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Although the reprieve is temporary, Robert relaxes so much that he stumbles, crashing into the desk. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart. This entire day has put him on edge. Galen is still missing. Shroud is somehow wandering around and causing Robert problems. There’s that strange fog and even weirder creatures just running around the city without any other signs of life. Robert must have gotten folded into the wrong reality. It’s to the point that SDN might not even be the beacon of safety he’s hoping for. 

But it’s all he’s got. He doesn’t know where else to go, which just makes the thought of SDN having nothing for him even scarier. 

Fear is the last thing he needs to pay attention to, though, so Robert turns to look around at the room. He was right in calling it an office. If not for the window showing the darkened tunnel outside, Robert would’ve thought this was ripped straight from a generic business. Well, there’s also a large picture on the back of the wall that makes it difficult to call this simple. It’s a map of the entire tunnel system. While it is, again, written in the mole-people’s language, Robert doesn’t need to know what the words are exactly to tell what means danger and what means exit. Both are important as Robert figures out where he entered, memorizing as much of the map as possible. He plans his escape route carefully, striking a balance between speed and safety. 

Not sure how much of the latter is possible with that beast roaming about, but Robert will do what he has to. 

He turns around. He checks the desk for any other scraps of information that might be useful. It takes him a moment, but his eyes are drawn to the few pieces of paper that are written in identifiable English. 

[Issued Statement]: To all land-dwellers, please do not leave the tunnels designated for the transferring. All other tunnels are either harmful or are hubs for domestic activity. Remember, we are doing the Red Ring a favor and will not tolerate your disrespect.

If that paper wasn’t damning enough, the others give further details. Apparently, the mole-people were allowing the Red Ring to move supplies through their tunnels. Robert doubts the Red Ring were threatening the mole-people if the leader was bold enough to say they won’t tolerate disrespect, but why else would they agree? Was the Red Ring creating something they wanted to profit from, too? Was this an old favor Shroud was cashing in? Does it have anything to do with the stars Robert’s not supposed to interact with? 

Robert startles when a loud noise rips through the room. He whirls around, eyes wildly searching until they find a—a landline? A frown pulling at his features, Robert slowly makes his way across the room to the shelving unit. His fingers brush across the edge of the plastic. It feels cool beneath his skin. His fingers wrap around the vibrating mass. He lifts it to his ear, leaning into the plastic. “...hello?” 

“Hello!” An automated voice responds. Robert’s brows furrow together. Out of all bizarre things happening, why would a telemarketer be calling now? And why here? “I have a question for you, Robert. I would really like to know your answer.” 

Not a telemarketer, then, because how the hell would they know Robert’s name? “Who the fuck are you?” 

“I am someone asking you a question. Listen closely, because your answer is very important to me.” The voice still sounds robotic and prerecorded, and that’s likely why Robert remains in place. “There was once a king who ruled over his nation for many years. There was a young inventor who claimed the king was a tyrant. Curious about the claims, the king invited this inventor to his palace to ask him why he thought the king was a tyrant. The inventor answered that the king was unfair. He bestowed his favor and disfavor arbitrarily, resulting in the people receiving fates they don’t deserve. Furthermore, he told the king that he did not understand his people. He spent so much cultivating his gardens and shepherding his animals that he did not see the suffering his people experienced. The king was taken aback by this. Although it was not untrue, the king could see into the inventor’s heart. He knew that the inventor thought a proper ruler was someone who truly was a tyrant: someone who meticulously controlled the lives of their people, who gave everyone a deserving fate at the cost of their right to choose. The king is an uncaring, unbothered ruler who casts blessings and curses down on the land without ever understanding the people who will prosper and suffer from this decision. The inventor is an overbearing, coddling ruler who wants to restrict everyone’s freedom in the pursuit of giving them the lives they have earned. Who do you think is right, Robert? Or if that’s too difficult, who do you think is more right? If it was up to you, who would rule the kingdom?” 

It’s a stupid question for an even stupider story. Robert doesn’t need to deal with this. He’s not even sure he has the time to. That’s why he can’t fathom what could possibly keep in place, what could set the gears inside his head into motion trying to figure out the answer. In the end, he finds himself spouting something out. “I guess… the inventor? I mean, it’s still not right to take people’s freedom, but… Well, I’d rather my leader give a fuck about me. And I imagine justice actually gets done in that world compared to the one where the king rules.” 

“A well-put answer. I am inclined to agree. Thank you for answering my question. I wish you luck in your pursuit to find the inventor’s perfect ruler.” 

The line goes dead. Brows still furrowed together, Robert sets the landline back down. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the weird feeling that lingers in his chest. It remains firmly in place, but Robert ignores it in favor of checking the map one more time. Once he confirms that he’s got his route memorized, he heads over to the door. 

Before he can open it, he finds a device leaning against the threshold. Robert squats down. It’s a gun. He’d get more specific than that, but this is clearly something from the Red Ring. It likely shoots lasers instead of bullets. There is a magazine right beside the gun. It doesn’t look like a normal magazine, though, so maybe his laser theory isn’t out yet. If it matters because he’s not… 

He’s not—what? Not going to bring along a weapon that might keep him safe? Something that would allow him to preserve the baton’s energy? Now isn’t the time for personal feelings and convictions. He’s lost in this world. There’s no telling who else is. As a hero and as a normal human, Robert has to use all the tools available to him, lest he risks his life and the lives of those he’s trying to save. 

Robert slips the magazine into his pocket alongside some of the notes he’s carried with him. He twists the baton up in his belt loops. With one hand free, he pushes open the door. He leaves the safety of the light for the darkness beyond. He’s already prepared for the bat-monster, so he’s not surprised when he sees it shifting slightly along the farthest corners of the light’s halo. 

He adjusts everything on his person. He takes a deep breath. He glances back at the map through the window one last time. Shifting his weight, he bolts for the direction that will take him to the end of this forsaken tunnel system. 

As fast as he goes, the bat-monster remains right on his heels. Between the red lights on it and the deep glow of the gun, Robert isn’t completely blind in the darkness, though it’s a damn-near thing. It’s why he has to stay near the wall, but that also lets him feel the actual vibration that rattles the tunnel as the bat-monster follows him. It’s fucking terrifying, something so deep in his bones that he knows it’s a supernatural force compelling him to feel this weak-limbed and low-spirited in the face of approaching death. 

He doesn’t collapse, though, instead making it to the ladder that should lead upward into SDN or a building near it. Robert scrambles upward as quickly as he can. He thinks he’s about halfway up when something slams into the bottom. It’s hard enough that Robert’s feet slip. He only has one hand tightly gripping the rung, so gravity nearly rips his arm out of its socket. It might actually do that, but Robert’s is too high on adrenaline to feel it. 

He does, however, feel the way sound itself can be weaponized when the bat-monster literally screeches. It really is like a banshee keening for his end, a literal death rattle making it impossible to hear or think or breath. It’s no small wonder that Robert’s spasming muscles make it impossible to cling onto the rungs any longer even when he was just starting to get his balance again. 

As gravity is claiming him, Robert makes sure to push off the ladder as best he can. With the arc, he manages to go over the bat-monster’s gapping mouth. The fear of smacking into the hard ground is what compels Robert to latch onto whatever he can. His free hand grasps the collar around the neck. The hand holding the gun manages to cling to some fur. The bat-monster drops down onto its claws, letting Robert lie himself flat. Despite knowing what its prey is, the beast can’t get Robert off just yet, so he makes a risky decision. 

He releases his free hand to pull out the baton. He’s shoving it into the creature’s neck even before he has the button pressed. The interaction between metal and lightning happens immediately. Robert hopes that short-circuiting the damn thing might get him Sonar back (if this is, indeed, Sonar).

He doesn’t know if he short-circuits it, but the collar explodes. Robert is thrown back. He discovers that his shoulder was injured when he fell from the ladder the first time because of how much it hurts when he hits several times on his way across the ground. His ears were already nonfunctional because of the screeching, and now his vision is compromised by the bright flare of the explosion, too. 

Not completely in either case, though, because it slowly begins to clear. It’s to the point that he can see that there’s no longer a bat-monster. Only Victor lying flat on the tunnel floor, illuminated by a few flames that continue burning in the aftermath. 

Robert scrambles over to his side. He’s not sure how he makes it there with his body in shambles, but his knees are soon planted firmly at Victor’s side. Hands marred by partial burns reach forward to grab Victor’s face, cradling both sides as Robert forces eye contact between them. A question passes through his lips. He isn’t sure what it is because he cannot feel the words in his mouth nor hear them in his ears. 

He does hear Victor’s response—or whatever he chooses to say next. “You’ve made your choice.” He touches his burnt neck. “Can’t do shit like this again.” 

Robert doesn’t understand. Victor hums, hand sliding back to cross over his stomach. “The future is coming. If you really want to kill the past, you know who you have to make your ally. You got this, Rob.”

His eyes shut, and his chest stills. Robert has a split second to mourn before yet another noise disrupts his peace. He’s getting real sick and tired of them, especially when he looks into the glowing eyes of one of those creatures made from blue light. This one, like all the others, is covered in plant life, including mushrooms growing out of the eyes. Unlike them, this one doesn’t appear to be a chimera—it’s just a vulture. A scavenger ready to feast on the dead. 

Without any hesitation, Robert lifts the gun. His aim is surprisingly straight for someone who hates guns and just went through what he went through. He manages to send a bullet (a laser) through the bird’s head. It flops onto the ground, spurting golden blood like an erupting geyser. 

Two deaths in a row, Robert rises to a standing position. He sets his hands on the ladder rungs. Before he can pull himself, part of the wall opens. It swings back, actually, revealing itself as a door Robert didn’t see. Shifting to the side, he peers in to see that it’s a basement. If this building he’s going into is SDN, that’s the basement, perhaps one of the underground labs or workshops. The ladder must take him to the main floor. 

People will likely be upstairs, but there might be useful tools down here. Robert taps his finger against the ladder rung, eventually coming to a conclusion. 

He twists on his feet to the left. He runs forward as quickly as he can. Although he can’t be certain his path remains straight, the fog does eventually clear up to reveal a building to him. It is purposefully submerged halfway into the concrete with a downward staircase leading to the front door. A neon sign continues sputtering with light despite the rest of the city seemingly not having electricity. The sign, at least, confirms that Robert is walking into PURGATORIO. 

Before he can start second-guessing his decisions, he hears noises permeating from the fog behind him. He hates being driven by fear, but he can’t deny that it’s panic that drags him down the steps. Once he’s at the bottom, he shoves the door open. He slips inside, and before it slams shut, he sees that the sign doesn’t say PURGATORIO anymore, if it ever did. All he can see is the bright word ‘RED’. 

Robert grabs the handle to double-check. As he’s pulling at the door, he realizes it won’t budge. He’s stuck. He thought he’d be protected here, but he’s in another prison. 

Fortunately, he’s not so defenseless this time. There is a device leaning against the wall beside the door. Robert squats down to grab the black baton. When he finds a button along the handle, he presses it. Red lightning shoots across the top of the baton. Robert’s grip tightens. At least he has a weapon now. He doesn’t know how effective it’ll be against the enemies outside, but he’s willing to try.

That, of course, would require him to leave the building. He either needs to find another exit or a key for the front door. In both cases, he needs to explore this building further. 

He rises back to his feet and turns around. There’s a light at the end of the dark hallway. Music comes from the light source, too. Robert follows both, peering into the room through an ajar door. It’s a bar. There are a few tables, the bar itself, and a pool table in the corner. Across the room, the stage is lit with warm gold and orange lights, illuminating the songstress on the stage. 

“Alice?” Robert whispers. He shoves the door open. He strides into the room. Before he can make it to his friend, he realizes that the bar isn’t empty… not exactly. Mechanical dolls not unlike the puppets from outside are scattered around the space. They are set up in such a way to mimic a bar scene. None of them are moving, but they all have clockwork keys sticking out of their backs. 

Robert keeps an eye on them as he’s darting between them. He doesn’t end up touching any of them before he makes it to the stage. He recognizes Alice. She’s sitting on a stool with her ankles crossed. Her hands are gently hovering around the microphone she sings into (“let me see you in my dreams”). Her eyes are shut, and she takes no notice of someone approaching her. She doesn’t even react when he touches her leg. She’s in some sort of trance. Robert doesn’t know how to break her free from it, if this is, indeed, his Alice. 

Robert glances around the room. None of the clockwork dolls have moved. An exit hasn’t revealed itself, either. He does, however, see something new. There is writing on the blackboard behind the motionless bartender.

[Sign in the Bar] How can you leave when no one’s had any fun? 

It must be a set of instructions. The exit won’t appear until he sets everyone in motion. Robert approaches the nearest doll—a lone figure sitting near the stage with a drink in hand and eyes set on the singing Alice (“let me see you in my dreams”). Robert sets the baton down on the table to hold the clockwork key in both hands. He spins it until he can hear the mechanisms in the doll activating. 

Its head snaps to him. Stumbling off the stool, the doll attacks him. Robert side-steps the initial attack. He grabs the baton off the table. He swings it first like a bat, letting it hit the doll’s back shoulder. A button press activates the lightning. It serves to agitate the doll, but Robert sees that the unwinding of the clockwork key goes faster the longer the electricity touches the doll.

It must know that, too, because it pushes Robert away. He stumbles into a barstool. The two of them fall over together. Ignoring the pain burning through his body, he shoves the baton forward for a second time, sticking it in the doll’s lower ankle. 

When the mechanical doll tumbles onto the ground, Robert grabs the side of the table to pull himself back onto his feet. He looks around the room. He must’ve been wrong about the instructions because he’s not winding up all these enemies. 

He taps his foot on the ground, searching for another answer. When nothing comes, he spins in a slow circle to look for another clue. 

He finds one with his ears, not his eyes. Alice’s song. He didn’t really notice it before, but she’s repeating one line over and over again. Let me see you in my dreams. While he doesn’t know much about music, he doesn’t think that’s the only line. There should at least be some variation in the melody. But it’s the same over and over again. It’d be enough to drive someone mad, but Robert tries to listen first. 

Let me see you in my dreams.

Robert looks around the bar again. His idea comes to full fruition when he sees a figure sitting at the bar. Its head lies against its arms with shut eyes. Robert can’t be certain it’s ‘asleep,’ but he winds the clockwork key along its back. This time, the doll doesn’t attack him, even though it does subtly come to life with a moving chest and a faint snoring sound. 

A new line is added to Alice’s song. Let me see you in my dreams, where nothing is what it seems.

He has to find the doll that isn’t what it seems. That’s a harder ask than finding a sleeping doll, but Robert pays attention as best he can. He finds it in a different corner. A group of dolls are settled around a booth. They resemble laughing friends despite their featureless faces. One of them isn’t as clearly defined as the others. Robert gets the impression that they aren’t laughing. Maybe they aren’t friends with the others. That’s Robert’s assumption, anyway, as he winds the key and hopes he doesn’t get attacked. 

He could be wrong, but the mechanical doll does activate. The others around it do, too. They move fluidly, play-acting a scene of laughter and teasing. And the one who isn’t laughing, but Robert doesn’t have time for sympathy. 

Let me see you in my dreams, where nothing is what it seems. I’ll find you there in the distant wilds.

Find, distant, wilds. That one is actually the easiest. One of the first dolls he noticed was the one playing darts in the corner. Not only does he like playing darts (Janelle got him into it), but this one is acting like a damn fool. The doll wants as much attention as possible. Robert gives them exactly that as he spins the key in its back. He jumps back when it activates to avoid getting accidentally hit with its chaotic actions. 

Let me see you in my dreams, where nothing is what it seems. I’ll find you there in the distant wild, the only place we ever smiled.

Tiredly, he leans against the nearest table. Robert isn’t sure what the lyrics could mean now. None of the dolls have expressions to smile with. It could be body language, maybe, but really, only Alice could—

Robert’s attention snaps to the singing doll. Alice has a face. She’s using it to smile. She’s looking at someone in the far corner of the room with eyes that are half-open. Robert makes sure to draw several lines with his mind to make sure he’s got the right doll. 

Robert walks to the far, back corner. The doll sits tucked in the booth. There are stacks of books protecting it from being spied on. Robert picks up a blue book about theology to find a red book about engineering just beneath it. He sets the book down. He plans to ignore the rest of them when his eyes catch on a word he recently became acquainted with. PURGATORIO.

Robert flips through the pages until he finds a note scribbled along the margin. 

[Note in PURGATORIO] I admire those who seek redemption, but why are they going upwards?

Robert thought they were going to heaven in the sky. Maybe the notetaker means something else, though. 

Shrugging to himself, Robert puts the book and his baton down. He winds the doll. When it activates, it finishes scrawling something out before turning to Robert and shoving a blueprint in the man’s hands. 

[Blueprint from Doll] (It appears to be an unfinished blueprint for a robotic system. The words are written in an indecipherable language, yet the symbol of the Red Ring is stamped proudly in the bottom corner.)

He hesitantly sets the blueprint down on the table. He reaches for the baton. The doll pretending to be an inventor doesn’t attack him. Neither does the rest of the bar as they all start performing their assigned roles to make this bar feel like it was made from real people. 

“Robert,” A voice calls out. His attention snaps to Alice. She, too, has been completely activated. She steps off the barstool and jumps from the stage to the ground. Robert hurries over to her. Once he’s close enough, she grabs onto his arm and starts pulling him away. “We have to go down. There’s a tunnel network that’ll take us straight to SDN. Do not go up. Don’t let the stars see you.” 

“Wait, Alice—what the fuck are you talking about? What’s going on? Where are the others?” Robert demands. Her grip tightens. She effortlessly drags him along despite his resistance, likely because she’s a superhuman (or because he hasn’t eaten today or didn’t have any restful sleep last night). 

She does stop, however, when a loud creaking noise shots through the bar. Alice glances over her shoulder. One of the chimeras has broken down the door. It creeps into the room. The puppets immediately turn toward the creature to attack it. 

Alice doesn’t. She drags Robert forward again. This time, she’s pushing him forward. She manages to get him through a threshold that wasn’t there before he finished the puzzle. Robert stops them, then, turning around to actually get answers from Alice. Or just talk to her. 

“Robert—” Her words are cut off by a cough. Black blood splatters forward against Robert’s chest. It drips over her chin and jaw. Robert lifts a hand to touch her cheek. As soon as his fingertips make contact, Alice’s own skin starts melting away. There’s no flesh beneath it, only a sheet of metal beaten into a face-like shape. Alice’s body sinks lower as her body parts break apart, screws coming loose and metal framework collapsing under its own weight. Robert watches in horror as Alice—a mechanical doll clatters onto the ground in pieces. The small blue bugs reveal themselves, proving definitively that they do not like machines. 

Vomit rising up his throat, Robert stumbles away from the pieces—including the blank mask that doesn’t even have a face anymore. He turns away from it slowly, bolting down the hallway. At the end, there’s a darkened decline. 

If Alice can be trusted, that has a tunnel system that will take him to SDN. 

If that mechanical doll can’t be trusted, he should climb the ladder to the roof’s entrance. 

This thought is pushed to the backburner as he looks around the hallway. It isn’t how he remembered it when he came to his room last night. The wallpaper is peeling in several places, revealing a black texture—mold?—that seems to sparkle when it catches the pale light coming in from the window at the end of the hallway. There is no light coming from overhead because all the bulbs have been burnt out. The glass shards have fallen to the torn-up, damp carpet. It’s like someone has aged the hallway by several decades, down to the very smell that permeates through the heat Robert trudges through. 

He pounds his fist on the door across the hall. When no one answers, he tries for the handle. Even without a keycard, the door swings open. The only thing that’s wrong with this room is that no one is in it and there isn’t any technology. Instead of being aged like the hallway, it’s just missing its television, appliances, and even the lamp that was attached to the desk. It, therefore, does give the room a sense of oldness, like this is for an inn rather than a modern-day hotel. 

Robert returns to the hallway to investigate the other rooms. They are all mirrors of each other, down to the fact that the lights aren’t coming on in any of them. Robert realizes now why his phone was still dead. It seems the hotel—or whatever simulacrum of it he’s stumbled into—doesn’t have any electricity running through it. For now, Robert is getting by with the fog-tinted light pouring in from the hallways, but he knows that it isn’t going to last for long. He needs to find a light source, even if it’s just a match. 

He also needs to find Galen. Another person. Answers. There’s a lot Robert needs to do, and he’s left wondering if exploring the hotel is really the best option right now. He walks toward the window at the end of the hotel’s hallway. He peers out at the city, only seeing fog blanketing the streets. It seems thicker now than before. Robert knows Torrance well enough to have some assurance that he won’t get lost, but still, he’s as fallible as any other human. He could get turned around and never know it with how thick that fog is. But that’s definitely a risk he’ll have to take if he wants to get to SDN. An entire floor’s worth of people have disappeared, after all, which means it’s time to call in reinforcements. 

Ding!

Robert whirls around, brandishing the knife in front of him. He knows it’s the sound of the elevator, but he checked all the rooms: who could’ve called it? 

A dark figure at the end of the hallway, it seems. Robert hurries forward a few steps. The elevator settles before the person. As the doors slide away from each other, the figure glances over their shoulder. Robert freezes where he stands when he meets a pair of familiar blue eyes beneath dark eyebrows. His breathing picks up into a frenzied panic. He nearly drops the knife he’s still holding in front of him. Shroud—Eli, right now, with his casual clothing and observational expression—steps into the elevator. He points downward with one hand while the other presses a button. The maintained eye contact spurs Robert into motion. He starts running down the hallway, screaming, “Wait!” 

Elliot does not wait. The doors shut completely. Breathing heavily, Robert looks upward. The elevator is going down. Robert doesn’t have time for it to drop Elliot off and come back up, so he bolts through the door to the stairs. His breathing and frantic footsteps echo throughout the stairwell. Robert even starts throwing himself down to speed up the process, desperately needing to beat Elliot down. This, unfortunately, causes Robert to nick his own skin on the knife he’s holding, but it’s only a little of his finger. The few drops of blood that mark his path are nothing for him to be concerned about when Elliot—when Shroud—is here. 

Robert slams his shoulder into the door to the ground floor. He practically stumbles over his feet to get in front of the elevator. He doesn’t know how he beat it, but he’s listening to it settle. It feels like an eternity before the doors slide open. Robert prepares himself for a fight and a conversation, so he’s knocked back by the emptiness. Not just that, but the elevator’s interior doesn’t look the same as it did earlier, either. Even down the hall, Robert saw golden light and silver walls, but now he sees shadows and rust. Leaning forward, the buttons aren’t even glowing, and when Robert presses them, they don’t do anything. It’s like the elevator completely broke and was thrown forward in time when it settled. 

Robert sighs, thumping his head against the metal plate above the buttons. Did he hallucinate Elliot? He must have. And all of this must be a hallucination, too. What the hell is Robert doing right now? 

Finding Galen or another person. Real people. That’s his goal right now. Getting to SDN, too, but he just… he needs to make sure that between the work station and the breakfast area, there’s no one on the ground floor. 

Robert walks to the eating area first. Like the rooms upstairs, there’s no technology, only furniture. The difference is that the lights are just gone. It’s like the ceiling swallowed up the places where a bulb might have been screwed into. The only reason Robert can see anything is because the far wall is entirely made from windows that lets the gray-white light pour in. 

Finding no one there, Robert goes to the front desk. There’s no one sitting behind it. The computer is gone, too, and Robert knows for a fact there was one there when he and the other dispatchers checked in yesterday. He knows because the lady was having trouble with it, and she took him up on his offer to help. And because he was already back there, he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself over the countertop now. Whatever took all the technology, thankfully, missed the industrial-grade flashlight underneath the desk. 

When Robert clicks the flashlight on, the entire underside of the desk is flooded with light. It reflects off the glossy ink of a paper left down here by the small trashcan. Robert sets the knife down to pick the paper up. He was only going to skim it until he catches a few familiar names—Red Ring members. 

[Complaint From Cleaning Staff:] Boss needs to kick these freaks out yesterday. I’m just trying to do my fucking job, but they all keep getting in my way. That creepy psychic lady keeps laughing at me about shit she shouldn’t know while also locking me in every single room. Toxic has joined her in hazing me. That lightning throw or struck or whatever guy has burned down most of the furniture in his room. And don’t get me started on the rest of this circus! If we don’t get a bonus and a paid vacation, I’m quitting—I don’t care that Shroud says there’s only a 7% chance that I actually will!

Robert grabs the knife after he stuffs the paper into his pocket beside his phone. He doesn’t know why he takes it. The Red Ring are all imprisoned, so what does it matter if they spent time at this hotel? It must be a coincidence that SDN booked this place. After all, if he didn’t know the Red Ring were here with how obsessively he was looking into them, SDN definitely wouldn’t have. 

Still, it’s something to keep in mind as he walks into the backroom in search of another person. The beam of his flashlight swings around the room. There’s a table in the center of the room covered in papers and overflowing cardboard boxes. There are paintings on every wall with bronze plaques that give their names, painter, and date of origin. If Robert were dropped into this room, he wouldn’t have guessed it was connected to a hotel. He’s almost certain it isn’t. 

With that thought, he hears the sound of footsteps behind him. He whirls around. Although his flashlight is pointed right at him, nothing reflects in Elliot’s eyes. That alone should prove he’s a hallucination, but Robert can’t believe it when the man literally grabs the door handle and slams the door shut. Robert bolts across the room. He’s hardly able to use his hand while still holding the knife, and even then, he finds that it was useless because the door is locked. 

Robert squats to look at the lock. It needs a number code. While Robert would be fine punching in random numbers for eternity just to get out, he knows this make and model. If he doesn’t put the right code in within five tries, he’ll be locked out completely. Someone else will have to come get him. With no one in the hotel, a terrible fog outside, and a dead phone, Robert knows not to trust that help is on its way. 

He sighs. He turns toward the papers on the table. He sets his knife down within arm’s reach while putting his back to the far wall so he can face the door. He sets the flashlight beneath his chin to give him access to both of his hands without losing the light source. Robert starts flipping through the papers, searching for any hint or clue that will give him an idea of what the number code could be. 

After a while, he finds a sticky note. Two people are having a conversation in black and red marker on the yellow surface. 

[Note in Backroom:] I keep getting stuck in the backroom. Tip for remembering the code?  I remember that it’s the last year of the painting that doesn’t belong. Does that help? Yes!! Thank you! I’ll get your coffee tmrw

Robert isn’t as sure as the person writing in black, but he turns his attention towards the paintings. He didn’t pay much attention to them when he first entered. Now, they have his undivided attention. 

There are seven paintings: two on the wall with the door, one on each of the side walls, and three on the wall behind Robert. Five of the paintings have people in them with three of those being self-portraits of different people. The remaining two are both paintings of countryside cities. Looking at the names and painters, none of them are any more different than the others. Which one doesn’t belong? 

Every color is on at least two paintings. The sizes are all different from one another. None of the artists’ marks are in unique areas. Which one doesn’t belong…

And, then, it hits him. He doesn’t know how he didn’t get it immediately. He steps right up to it, holding his fingers up to what’s different about this painting compared to all the others. In the background, flying in the sky, there is a divinity. The rest of the paintings are only of man and man-made things. Robert looks down at the plaque. A Dance to the Music of Time. Nicholas Poussin. 1634-1636. 

Robert hurries over the door. As soon as he inputs 1-6-3-6, the digits flash a bright green. Robert pulls the handle down, swinging the door open. He steps back into the lobby. It has aged significantly in his time locked away. 

A new addition has also been added. There’s a small radio sitting on the edge of the front desk. Robert can hear the static pouring out of it. With his knife in one hand and flashlight in another, he approaches the radio while swinging around the desk. As soon as he gets close, other noises begin to filter out of the static. “Robert… Robert… can—hear—? Listen! Listen well!... not much time… Don’t look up… you don’t need the stars… let them have no need of you… keep your eyes forward… tread your own path… as you always have… Promise me, Robert… We believe in you–!... don’t look up… you don’t need the—”

The radio suddenly shuts off. The sound of old gears groaning comes from deep within it. The box trembling grows into a heavy shaking. Metal contorts. The front suddenly bursts open. A black liquid spills forth like an unbounded flood. As it drains down, it reveals chunks of flesh and organs alongside the gears and wires. Tiny bugs and worms made from the same bright blue light as the butterfly are swimming and drowning in the blood, feasting upon the flesh and organs that don’t belong in a radio. 

Robert stumbles back a few paces, creeped out by both the radio knowing his name and by the creatures inside of it. 

If that wasn’t enough to make him leave, Robert hears the door opening. His nausea dissipates as he watches Elliot leaving the hotel. Although he should know better, Robert immediately races after him and enters into the fog. 

It’s just as thick as he thought it was going to be. He loses Elliot for a few seconds. It’s only when the wind shifts the thickness that Robert sees Elliot standing in the middle of the street. Even when Robert gets audibly close, the man doesn’t walk away. Because of this, Robert can grab Elliot’s shoulder and turn him around. 

That’s not Elliot. 

A mechanical puppet with a metal face devoid of all features snaps its neck all the way around to look at Robert with emotionless red lights for eyes. The rest of its body jerks around, revealing that it isn’t all technology. Though the skin has been ripped away, rotting organs are being held in place by a moving—snapping—ribcage made from metal. Black blood drips to the ground, yet also seems to be smeared across the entire humanoid doll. Robert leaps back to put some distance between the two of them. When the puppet tries to swing at Robert, he shoves the knife into it. Immediately, the blade shatters. Robert drops the hilt and takes several steps back since he no longer has a weapon.

Before he can plan his next move, he sees a blue light reflect across the black blood and metal. He glances over his shoulder to find another creature coming up behind him. That blue light that made the butterflies and other bugs has been molded into a chimera, a mixture of so many animals that it isn’t really any of them. The closest Robert can approximate is that a big cat must be the base, like a lion or tiger. White plants grow right out of the creature’s backside, and fungus covers its eyes. A snake-like tongue lashes out of its gnashing maw. 

Robert makes the wise decision to step out of the way right as the chimera leaps forward. Its claws crash into the chest of the mechanical puppet. While it manages to snap the front half downward, the legs remain stalwart. The mechanical puppet twists around to pop right back up. It throws its arm to the side. Muscle tendrils explode outward, covering a cannon that begins glowing with red energy inside the barrel. 

Robert would join the fight if he didn’t notice more red and blue lights starting to glow from the fog. Horribly outnumbered, Robert turns on his heel to make a strategic retreat, searching for back-up or a suitable weapon. 

He comes to a tree with a metal rod sticking out of it. There’s a street sign on the metal rod that points toward the left marked with the word, ‘PURGATORIO.’ The tree has a wooden plank leaning against the side. It points toward the right with the word, ‘INFERNO.’ 

Robert doesn’t know what street he’s on, but he knows for certain that this isn’t Torrance as he knows it any more than that hotel was, because what the fuck are these signs? 

His shock morphs into battle-readiness when he hears the puppets and chimeras approaching him. Taking a deep breath, Robert comes to a decision. 

“...the last of the Red Ring are being rounded up…” 

A man sits in front of the television. One leg is held in the cushion of a rolling desk chair he sits in, directly putting himself before the screen. He leans his forearm against his knee, holding the remote so loosely that it will soon fall from his grasp onto the carpet below. 

“...investigators have found what appears to be plans for a final operation Shroud never began…”

He aimlessly cycles through the channels, barely listening to the late-night spiel pouring out from the speakers. He’s turned the television’s sound down to the point that it’s effectively inaudible even if he did want to listen to it. 

“...the long-awaited observatory is opening soon…” 

But the dead-eyed look in his eyes makes it clear that he really doesn’t. Every action that’s taken is only done so because he wants to do something. He needs to keep his body in motion as his brain performs the same action as the television: cycling.

“...law enforcement has been stationed around to keep fanatics from breaking and entering…” 

Though, he’s doing it with thoughts, not channels. Each one is like a flash of lightning and the echoing thunder. It rips apart the thought right before it, and then it, too, quickly meets a grim fate. Endless and painful how it goes and goes and goes. 

"Can't sleep?"

Robert startles at the sound of someone’s voice. With the foot on the ground, he turns the chair toward the person sitting up on the hotel room’s second bed. The pale light of the television screen washes Galen out, but the golden light curls right along the edges on one side to return just a hint of normalcy to him. Everything else is swallowed by the darkness, and Robert imagines that’s what has him imprisoned completely when he meets Galen’s thoughtful gaze.

He coughs quietly into his fist. He gestures behind him toward the screen. "Yeah, sorry, was I—was I being too loud? I can turn the TV off. I'm not even watching it."

"The TV's fine. I wear heavy-duty silencers to sleep at night,” Galen assures him, holding up the earbuds he was talking about. Galen pushes the blanket off of him. He shuffles as dignifiedly as he can to the end of the bed. He sits there, folding his legs together like a child about to hear a story from their teacher. "If you're not watching it, though, why's it on?"

Robert turns to stare at the television. He considers making an excuse, but lies don’t come to him as easily as they could in different circumstances. Robert shrugs instead, letting his head fall against his shoulder and looking at Galen from the bottom of his eyes. "This might sound a bit... strange to you, but I—I don't like thinking when it's silent. Just makes everything worse."

"I get it more than you think. I do like a bit of quiet, but with powers like mine, silence means something is very, very wrong." Robert sighs in relief, but it’s not like the weight is fully taken off his shoulders. "Are you thinking about what those guys at the banquet said?"

Robert blinks, snapping back to the present moment. "Hmm?” He recalls the banquet. He talked to a lot of different people since he’s kind of the talk of the dispatching crowd at this SDN-sponsored convention, but he thinks he knows who Galen is talking about. At the same time, he doesn’t get what Galen is asking about. “Uh, no. Should I be?"

Galen arches a brow at him, squinting slightly without his glasses. "They were making fun of you."

"Were they?" Robert genuinely asks. Galen nods at him. Robert flops against the back of the chair. His leg slips off the cushion. His heel lands harshly against the carpet, and the remote balances precariously on his thigh. "Wow, I guess I've been around villains and the Z-Team for so long that bullying like that is too mundane for me to understand. I guess they were being a little odd."

"Hmm…” Galen hums, not exactly paying attention to Robert’s words anymore. “Was it what someone else said?"

Robert’s face remains aimed toward the front door, but his eyes find their way to Galen’s face for another time. "What're you asking me right now?"

The man seems a little sheepish. He turns to the opposite direction of where Robert is looking, toward the window that shows a rather nice view of the greater Los Angeles area. "I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about."

"Oh—” Robert’s eyes leave Galen’s face immediately. He looks down to the remote. One end of the plastic reflects the golden light while the other shows the white from the television. The shadows are long, and they grow longer still when Robert’s fingertips brush against the plastic buttons. “Then, no, not—nothing from tonight. I'm thinking more about the future, you could say. I... don't know what to do."

"You're not going to keep dispatching?"Though he’s not looking at Galen, Robert can imagine the confused expression on his face from that tone.

"I—I'm not sure.” Robert pulls both legs into the cushion now. The remote tumbles down, getting crushed between his stomach and thigh. “Dispatching, heroing, or... something else entirely. None of it feels right. I'm just trying to figure out what feels the least wrong."

Galen huffs a breath. "That's a heavy topic."

Robert laughs more out of surprise than genuine amusement. "I'm pretty sure no one's ever considered the future a light topic." Robert looks at the man again, but he’s staring at the television. It’s like there’s a window in his eyes. "Any advice?"

Galen’s voice is far away when he speaks again. "I don't think I can help you with this one. Everyone has to find their own path. You’ve been walking someone else’s for too long.” 

Robert’s fingers clench into fists. “You say that, but I made it to the end of that path. I only need to find a new one because I did that.” 

“If that’s how you want to describe it. For what it’s worth, I don’t disagree. You’re lost now, but I know you’ll find your way,” Galen promises, voice snapping right back to join them in this quiet hotel room.

“What makes you sure?” Robert murmurs. 

“The future  surely must be easier to wrangle than the Z-Team, and you did that pretty easily,” Galen shrugs.

“That… Well, I don’t know about that, but I don’t think the future is something impossible to piece together. I’ll figure out what I need to do, and then I’ll do it, just as I’ve always done.” It’s not like he has any other options. 

“That’s the spirit. Now, I’m going to head to bed. You should, too. We have an early morning tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.” The conference is going to be happening for a few more days. It’s only at the end that Robert’s expected to give a response. “I’ll… give me a sec, okay?” 

Galen nods. He crawls back to the pillows. He tucks himself under the comforter. Robert rises from the chair. He turns the television off. He navigates the darkness as best he can instead of waiting for his eyes to adjust. He does manage to push the chair back under the desk it belongs to. He flops face-down on his bed. The mattress already feels too soft for him, so he doesn’t even try getting under the blanket. He does let his head touch a pillow, and he thinks that paired with the lingering exhaustion from the day is what knocks him out. 

—

He awakens with a gasp, eyelids ripping out with enough ferocity to send a small wave of pain upward through his head. The achiness dissipates quickly, but a deep confusion lingers. Though he feels the tendrils of a primal fear, he doesn’t have any idea what his dream was about. He just knows that he’s deeply unsettled. He doesn’t think he’s going to be getting any more sleep. 

Robert pushes himself onto his forearms. Since the room is still dark, he checks his phone to determine what time it is. He holds his phone against his pillow. He clicks the power button. He squints, preparing his eyes for sudden brightness. Instead, his phone remains completely off. Robert holds the power button down, but the phone doesn’t show any signs of being powered off like that. 

With a huff, Robert swings his legs around until he’s sitting up in the bed. He looks around for a charger. He finds one lying on the ground. He doesn’t recognize it, but he assumes Galen wouldn’t be too mad about him borrowing it for a few minutes when he’s not using it. 

Setting the phone down on the nightstand connecting the two beds, Robert looks over at Galen’s bed. A frown pulls down his lips when he finds it completely empty. It’s even impeccably made like no one was sleeping there at all. While he can believe that Galen would make his bed like this, Robert finds it weird that he’d be up and about when the room’s dark enough to imply it’s still night. And if it’s not, why didn’t Galen wake Robert up, too, to get ready for the day? 

Robert rises from the bed. He looks around the room. There’s no light coming out from under the door, and the light slipping through the window’s cracks is tinted gray. Robert would investigate the latter if his eyes didn’t catch on the television. 

The screen is completely fractured, white lines webbing across the deep black. The cause is obvious: the knife sticking out of the screen. The longer Robert stares and the closer he gets, he becomes more certain that the knife was thrown rather than stabbed. Either way, Robert knows he didn’t do it, but he doesn’t think Galen did it, either. But if not them, who did? 

Robert stands in front of the television. He grabs the knife’s handle. It is still warm. Robert pulls, using his other hand to grab the top of the television to keep it from falling over. When it comes out, Robert stumbles back without falling. He looks at the knife. There’s nothing particularly unique about it. Black handle, reflective blade—likely something from a kitchen. But still, how did it end up in the room, let alone the TV?

He looks back at where it came from. He freezes as a liquid begins to drip out of the hole created by the knife. Keeping a firm hold on the handle, Robert steps forward. He reaches up to touch the liquid as it begins sliding downward. It stains his pointer and middle finger. When he pulls away to view what the warm liquid is, he’s startled by the dark red coloration. He brings it up to his nose, sniffing cautiously. It really is blood. 

Shocked, Robert moves away from the television. He doesn’t stop until his back hits a wall. Rather, until it hits the curtains covering the window. He whirls around to look at them. He catches a glimpse of what’s between them. With one hand stained with blood and another holding a knife, Robert rips the curtains open. 

On the other side of the glass, all Robert can see is fog. There’s a hint of a street lamp and the building across the street, but almost everything is swallowed up by a fog so thick, Robert can’t even see the sun. He doesn’t remember the forecast calling for fog. 

Something in Robert’s peripheral vision catches his attention. Though Galen isn’t here, something is. A small thing is attached to the window. It has the shape and movements of a leech, but it’s made from black metal with red lights for its ten pairs of eyes. 

On the exact other side of the glass is another creature. This one looks more like a butterfly with white wings sprouting from a white body and blue eyes. It seems to be made from pure light. Maybe that’s why Robert thinks it’s just as grotesque as the robotic leech. 

Between the things on the window, the random knife, and the bleeding television, Robert knows he needs to get out of this room.