#fyfff

“I couldn’t risk having this discussion anywhere else.”

You stared at him. You were still terrified, but he didn’t seem to be making any effort to come closer to you. “What discussion? Who are you and where am I?”

“My dear Y/N, we need to discuss the items you found in the office of the manor.” Of course he knows your name. Not exactly helping the freaky factor. “To answer your other questions, we are in a place between, a void of sorts. I’ve brought you here as it is the safest place to discuss such a sensitive topic. You may call me Dark.”

“Okay Dark, what about those items needs to be discussed?” You eyed him warily, noting that he still hadn’t moved.

“Are you truly aware of what you obtained?”

“A bunch of stuff collected by a detective, what else could I think it is?”

He scoffed, “I have seen hundreds of people enter that manor. I’ve watched things be stolen, or destroyed, but never have I seen the manor lead someone to the office in that time.”

The manor leading you? What was that supposed to mean? You paused, watching him step closer. He seemed content to let you wallow in your confusion for a little longer as he slowly approached. You thought about how strange the manor was.

“Oh.”

He raised a brow, “Oh? Does that mean you have an idea of what I am referring to?”

“I thought it was weird that I didn’t notice the office doors the first time I went through the sitting room. I wasn’t sure how I ended up standing in front of it when I was just in the master bedroom.”

“Exactly,” He said. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? The office was untouched until you came along. So I ask again, do you know what you obtained?”

“So it WAS a cover up?!” You didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“In a sense, yes. But it’s a bit more complicated than that. Are you familiar with the concept of a liminal space?” You nodded. “Good,” he continued, “The house isn’t quite the definition of liminal, but it is a fitting analogy to explain. That house is the intersecting point of many alternate realities. Its power directly connects to and comes from this place.”

Now it makes sense why he called this void a place between. “Why did you want to talk about this?”

“You are not aware, but finding the things you did has placed somewhat of a target on you. The truth wasn’t supposed to leave those walls. He intended it to stay hidden away. You know too much now, and you’ve become a threat to him.”

“Me, a threat?” You stared at Dark. “How can I be a threat just because I found some dusty old newspapers? Even if I go to the archives, no one would believe me.”

“Yes, but if even one person gains the clarity you now have, his whole operation comes undone. In this place, the more you understand, the more powerful you are.”

This makes no sense, and complete sense all at once. Fear settled deep in your chest as one question came to mind. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“If you so choose, I can keep you safe and explain more. Or I can return you to your home like nothing happened. The choice is yours to make.” He looked at you, his face betraying none of what he was thinking.

“I choose life!” You blurted out. He didn’t say a word, but the shadows melted away around you.

You were standing in the main entry of the manor, but it was cleaner, brighter. You looked around, confusion written on your face. You glanced at Dark again, realizing that you knew his face. You knew it from the detective’s files.

“If you’d follow me, I’ll explain where we are and how it will keep you safe.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking away.

You trailed after him, noticing that while this looked like the manor you had explored, it was actually only on the surface. Like it was built with the same pieces, but in a different order. Dark led you to an office and gestured for you to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. He rounded the desk and sat in the leather chair, calmly folding his hands. To his right you saw a pile of folders. The pile of folders.

“You didn’t expect me to leave those behind after what I told you, did you?”

“No, just… when?” You glanced between him and the pile again.

“I sent them here just before taking you to the void. No matter your choice, I couldn’t leave these documents with you. I’m sure you understand.”

You nodded. You weren’t even sure what questions you had, let alone what you expected.

“For the sake of brevity, I’ll explain and you can ask questions after. As you’ve already noticed, this place has a striking resemblance to the manor you found these files in. The reason for this is the connection the manor holds with the void. Time passes differently within the void, since it is outside the normal universe. This place is self contained within the void and is protected by my power. Therefore it is the safest place for anyone that may need a shelter from him. It isn’t just the two of us here, over time I have brought others to live here. He tends to abandon the characters, ‘egos,’ he creates for specific narratives when he no longer needs them. Most residents here are those ‘egos.’ I assure you, you will have a private room and any specific needs you may have will be met. Before I show you to your room, do you have any questions?”

 "What exactly is going on? You talked about the manor like it was alive. I have so many questions about what I learned in those files!"

Dark sighed, "As I expected. I will answer your questions as truthfully as I can. Understand that while I know much of how this works, I'm not privy to everything. What do you want to ask?"

"To start, what would have happened if I hadn't come here?"

"He'd probably pull you into one of his games, sealing your memories so you can better play the role he slots you into."

That sounded like hell. "How does he even have that kind of power?"

A red afterimage split off Dark, screaming in anguish or pain. You couldn't tell which. "To keep this short, the manor is alive in a sense. It was inhabited by an entity, an amalgamation of thoughts and emotions compounded through the intersection of the universes and the void. He made a deal, a bid for power. He wanted to always be the hero. He got his wish."

The way Dark said the last couple sentences through gritted teeth made you tense. His aura felt heavier, darker. You had wanted to ask how he got his powers, but decided against asking that question after his reaction.

"I can see you want to know how I got my abilities," he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't make a deal, or a bid for power if that’s what you think. I didn't ask for this. He wanted a villain, and now he has one."

Oh shit. Dark is even more terrifying than you originally thought.

"What are you going to do with the files, Dark?"

"I'll look over the detective's notes to start. He may have written some useful information. Although, it seems you also took notes on the information."

"I did. I don't think my notes will be any good for you though."

"Don't count yourself out when you don't even know what I'm hoping to find," Dark eyed you intently. "A fresh set of eyes can make or break an interpretation. I have a question for you, if I may."

"Of course," you nodded.

"Based on what you now know, what do you believe happened?"

"That's… a very tough question." You had a lot more information now, but it made everything so much more complicated. "I think it was revenge. I don't think it went according to plan though, since his body disappeared during the detective’s investigation and was somehow back when the police were there. I don't know how that house or the amalgam work, but maybe he worked with them to hide the body? I have no idea when it comes to the other guests though. I don’t think they were ever found. I guess his ‘unfinished business’ he mentioned in the letter to the mayor could have been getting rid of the person he felt stole his wife."

Dark looked at you and hummed in acknowledgement. "Clever."

If your mention of the mayor affected him in any way, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he wasn’t actually the mayor that had been present at the party. If bodies can disappear and reappear or someone can create dreamworld stories and abduct people to play roles in them, then you can believe Dark copied the mayor’s face.

Or Mark made his villain look like his ex-wife’s brother because he felt betrayed when he took her side.

Dark sighed. “I’m not sure why the manor chose you to find these files, but it’s clear to me that you at least have enough sense to pull the pieces together when they are laid out. I know you saw the photos. I know you recognize this face.” Dark’s jaw was clenched and the red afterimages were splitting again.

Crap. Time for damage control. “You don’t have to tell me anything!” You quickly tried to backpedal, “I don’t need to know the specifics, really!”

“Thoughtful, but it will be easiest for me to just explain some things now. Mark ruined the lives of every guest at that party. Most died, but people don’t stay dead there. I won’t explain to you the specifics of my creation, but I will tell you that a part of the mayor lives on in me. I made my choice. I suggest you choose what you want to do with your life, before the decision is made for you.”

Well that isn’t ominous at all.

Dark sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I will not ask you to assist me in dealing with Mark. You have no dog in this fight.”

“But I do,” you replied. “If he gets to me, I’m either dead or a puppet to play roles in his stupid games. I’d say that’s a dog in the fight.”

If he furrows his brows much more the wrinkles between them will be permanent. “Don’t concern yourself with this. This fight is far above your level of ability.”

Ouch.

“Believe me,” he stood up and began walking around the desk. “This is not something you want to be a part of. I wouldn’t turn down competent help if this wasn’t such a horrific situation. The less you understand, the safer you are.”

“But you said yourself that the more I understand the more powerful I become. Wouldn’t I be safer if I was stronger?”

“If only that was accurate. If you are not careful, that power will eat you alive. You aren’t like me. You’re still human. This is not something I wish to negotiate with you. You will be safest if you stay out of it. Now, I believe it’s time I show you to your room.”

Clearly that was the end of that conversation. You silently followed after him as he led you up the stairs to your new bedroom. He left you to settle in while he informed the rest of the house of your new residency.

The room was nice enough. It was furnished with an older style, but there was a big bed, a dresser, and a desk set up for your use. The attached bathroom wasn’t terribly big, but it had plenty of room for a shower/tub and really what more can you ask for for free? You sat on the edge of the bed, realizing for the first time since meeting Dark, your ears weren’t ringing anymore. It was so quiet in this room. Maybe that’s for the best, your thoughts are still racing through all the new information you learned today.

In your exhaustion, you went to sleep directly after eating. You didn’t bother setting an alarm, since you didn’t work the next day. Your dreams found you wandering the dark halls of the manor again, even more nonsensical than it had already been when you first entered. The halls seemed to stretch forever, doors on the second floor led to the ground level patio, the time of day changed randomly as you walked around. You woke up more confused than ever.

With a groan, you left the comfort of your bed in favor of getting some caffeine in you. You’re going to need it to go through the frankly daunting amount of papers in those folders.

With a caffeinated drink and a fresh notebook to organize things, you dove into the folder full of newspaper articles, finding the earliest dated one was Safari Hunt Gone Wrong.

City local Col. William J. Barnum was arrested Wednesday following an incident involving his hunting partner, twenty-three year old Joseph Stewart. The two met during their time in the military. Allegedly Barnum had an argument with Stewart, leading to guns being drawn, and shots being fired. Stewart passed shortly after. Barnum was arrested on charges of murder and resisting arrest.

A colonel murdering his war buddy? Gone wrong is an understatement. You noted the names and situation and reached for the next article, Celebrity Actor in Cahoots with Beloved Mayor. The article was a speculative piece following an accusation made by a political opponent of the sitting mayor, claiming that the friendship between Mayor Black and the actor Mark Fischbach led to criminal misuse of power. The next article, Mayor in Legal Trouble, was dated just a few months later. That same political opponent accused Mayor Black of poll intimidation in his campaign for re-election. The “evidence” presented seemed nebulous at best, but it was being investigated anyway. You noted the names and accusations and moved on to 1928, Fallen Movie Star.

Multiple officers responded to a scene at Markiplier Manor on the city’s north end. During a press conference on Tuesday, a spokesperson with CPD stated the department received the call at approximately 8:30 AM on Sunday. When officers arrived on the scene, they found local celebrity actor Mark Fischbach on the floor of the entryway. Investigation ruled him deceased at the scene.

Currently the department is investigating the possibility of foul play, as the body was found after Fischbach hosted a party with several of his close friends. At this time, the staff have been accounted for, but not Mayor Black, the newly elected District Attorney, Col. William J. Barnum, Detective Abe L. or the deceased’s ex-wife Celine, who were all named as guests at the manor prior to the incident.

Clearly you were right about something bad happening. Considering the next article was titled Police Remain Clueless Following Celebrity Death, it seemed that the murder went unsolved. One thing in particular stood out. Det. Abe L. was a guest, and here you were with folders bearing his name. If he went missing from the manor after the murder, why were his files still in the study and how did articles from after the party get in there? Did he go into hiding but keep using Mark’s study as a base of operations? But then why hadn’t anything been touched when the police investigated? You’d think they wanted their files back from him. You decided to read the last article, hoping for some context or answers.

Police are still stumped following the tragic incident at Markiplier Manor. An independent autopsy of the beloved actor’s body left police with more questions than answers. According to the official autopsy report, there is a possibility the death was suicide based on the pattern of wounds and bruising on the body. Even so, the report notes the wounds are excessive in number and Fischbach would have been dead after only a few were inflicted. With the guests of the party still missing, answers seem unlikely to be found.

According to a statement from the police, Fischbach suffered from mental health problems following his divorce with his ex-wife Celine. The butler stated that the deceased had removed staff from the manor for a length of about six months following the divorce. Even once the staff was allowed to return, Fischbach remained reclusive and continued to isolate from the world outside.

A letter found in the mayor’s residence states that Mark “wanted to put the past in the past” and that he had unfinished business with many of the longtime friends he had isolated from in recent years. It is well known that Mayor Black and Fischbach have known each other since childhood and were rather close. The fact that the mayor is still missing following such an incident leads police to believe that there is more to what happened at the manor than a simple desire to be surrounded by friends before death. If anyone has any information on the missing guests please call the non emergency police line at…

Holy crap, this was just the information in the first folder? What the hell would you find in the other two then? Abe definitely gathered these articles for a reason. His notes in the second folder could answer a lot of the questions in your mind, but the folder marked RECORDS REQUEST #2702 seemed like the better place to start. His notes might reference specific records in the folder. Hesitantly, you opened it up.

The first thing to catch your eye was a set of background checks. Several of the names had come up in the articles. William J. Barnum, Damien Black, Celine Black Fischbach. The other records looked like they belonged to staff members. There were a lot of documents relating to William’s multiple poaching charges and his murder charge. Curiously, Damien’s record had only one section filled out, indicating an arrest, but it was scratched out to the point of illegibility. Even if he didn’t do anything wrong the section should remain filled out, right? Did someone tamper with that record after the party? Maybe the detective’s notes would shed some light on that.

The folder was full of note scraps and photos. The early notes were coherent, clearly written in active investigation. You decided to start with the notes about the relationships between Damien, Mark, William, and Celine. Understanding who was who when it came to the names that came up several times seemed key to this mystery. You found that Damien and Celine were twins, and had known Mark and William since they were kids. Apparently both William and Mark had grown up in the manor, and William considered it his home despite belonging to Mark’s family. Celine and Mark had married in their early adulthood and were happy together until an affair between Celine and William ended the marriage. The photo you had found in the bedroom was of this group before all of these awful things happened. It at the very least predated the divorce.

The detective was trying to investigate the murder from within the mansion when they discovered the body the morning after the party. There were notes trying to figure out which guests had a motive and where everyone had been the night before. Suspicion was cast on the Colonel, since he seemed to have the clearest motive. The further down the timeline you traveled, the more strange the detective’s notes became. There was one page that was just “The colonel did it” written over and over again. It was like the detective had gone mad while investigating.

Your notes attempted to make some sense of everything you had read. You had a timeline and a cast of characters, but no idea what happened to most of them. You shivered at the thought of having stood where a murder took place. Feeling like you were being watched again, you got up to draw the curtains closed. It might be paranoia, but that feeling was the same as the one the night before.

You felt overwhelmed with this new knowledge, and a headache was starting to form as a result. You had been reading for hours without a break. With a sigh, you headed into the bathroom to dig out headache medicine from the cabinet. You stared into the mirror after taking the tablets. This was insane, either you found the most intensely crafted prank that a group of teenagers could construct, or you found a huge cover up. One of those options was impressive, the other just plain scary. With a groan, you turned to leave the room. Your headache was getting worse; it was making your ears ring.

You stepped into sudden darkness. Even if the power had gone out, it was early enough in the day that there would still be sunlight leaking from behind the curtains. You looked around frantically, but it was pitch black all around. You spun again on your heels to see someone standing six or so yards ahead of you.

He was staring straight at you.

Your skin prickled under his gaze. In that moment, it was clear he was the one that had been watching you in the manor. You were terrified just standing there in his gaze. His presence felt powerful, but clearly somewhat unnatural as well. Red and blue bordered him, giving him an almost dreamlike appearance.

There were rumors about the old manor on the outskirts of town. No one seemed to know who currently owns it or how long it had been abandoned. Information on the place was basically nonexistent. Like any good local legend everyone had heard at least one rumor about that place. Some people say it's haunted. Some people say it's just full of lead paint and asbestos that makes people go crazy. One rumor even said the residents left because of a demon. The only sure thing is that it's big, and empty.

As teenagers do, they would dare each other to explore the house; they never seemed to find anything of interest when they went. The place was so old it had probably been picked clean decades ago. Any history it once held had been long lost to burglars and the passage of time.

Still, you were curious. Local myth and legend is one thing, but a mystery is another. You couldn't help but feel something bad happened within those walls for it to have been abandoned for so long. The only information you had managed to find in the local archives was a newspaper scan from the 1920’s that referred to the place as "Markiplier Manor," apparently named for its owner. Why did the owner leave the place all those years ago? In a fit of impulsive bravado you decided to look for the answer.

The manor seemed impossibly big when you looked at it from the walkway. You don't make a habit of breaking into places, but curiosity got the better of you. Something was weird there, and you wanted to find out why. Maybe it was simply an old mansion falling into disrepair after its owner left. In any case, you weren’t planning to readily jump onto the haunted train of thought.

With a deep breath, you twisted the doorknob of the main door. It swung open with a long creak, leaving nothing to stop you from stepping inside.The entryway definitely has seen better days, dust and dirt settled on every surface. The furniture was worn down and looked like animals had chewed on them over the years. Empty pedestals proved that things had been taken from the manor. Whether that was by burglars or the family that abandoned this place was unclear. For a moment you could clearly imagine the halls lit and lively, seeing vases and statues on the pedestals.

Further inspection showed every room had a heavy layer of dust on the surfaces. The fireplace still had ash in it. What did remain in the house implied opulence. The ceilings were covered in grand paintings faded with time and the walls held the torn remains of tapestries. The furniture was heavy wood, once finely carved and upholstered. The empty bottles in the wine cellar had labels showing they were fancy and imported. The former owner clearly had a taste for the finer things.

The master bedroom on the second floor was definitely the worst of the rooms. There was furniture and debris scattered everywhere. A crib was shoved into a corner of the room. Were they expecting a baby? Did they already have one and they left because the kid shouldn't be exposed to whatever happened here?

A photo frame on the floor caught your eye. It was face down, with shards of glass around it. It looked like someone had thrown it and it broke that way, completely untouched since the fit of anger that led to its destruction. With careful hands, you turned the frame over. The glass was broken in the frame and the photo within was sun bleached. The photo showed a woman smiling in the arms of one man, the couple bracketed by two other men. It was weird that of all the things to remain, this photo was still there.

For an instant you felt like you were being watched, but that couldn’t be possible. There wasn't anyone else in the manor. Still, you looked around. You could see the disturbed dust fluttering in the light of the sunset streaming through the windows. The silence must be getting to you. With a shuddering breath you left the bedroom. In an instant you were standing in front of the open doors to an office.

Wasn't I just upstairs? You were back in the main floor sitting room. How did I not notice these doors when I was in here before?

The office was littered with different newspaper articles, photos, and notes. You didn't dare touch them, the papers were old and brittle, most still tacked to the corkboard and laying on the desk. Slowly, carefully, you began to look over the papers.

Safari Hunt Gone Wrong. Celebrity Actor in Cahoots with Beloved Mayor. Mayor in Legal Trouble.  Fallen Movie Star. Police Remain Clueless Following Celebrity Death. 

These were pretty serious headlines in these newspapers. The articles had dates spanning from 1923 to 1929. It made no sense for these papers to still be here, let alone in as good condition as they were. Some of them were nearly one hundred years old. This room seemed undisturbed despite the fact that this place was a local legend. Why didn’t anyone touch anything in this room in the decades the house was abandoned? Why didn’t a single archive in the city have any of these papers in their collections? Something isn’t right here.

A stack of folders on a corner table caught your eye. The words PROPERTY OF DET. ABE L. DO NOT OPEN were clearly written over the fronts of each. A quick look in the folders showed unmarked copies of the newspaper articles, even more notes, and another folder marked “Records Request #2702.”

Take them.

This isn’t right. The police should have come to recover the records from their detective, right? What the HELL happened here?

Take them.

That sinking feeling of being watched settled in again. The room felt far too cold for it only being dusk. Why were a detective’s records in a private study anyway?

TAKE THEM.

Against your better judgment, you did. Taking care to not damage any of the folders, you placed them in your bag. You still felt like you were being watched. You needed to leave, to warm up, to get where you weren’t alone. The feeling of being watched didn’t ease until you stepped outside the main gate. You hopped into the driver's seat of your car, silently pleading that you had no issues getting home. You weren’t superstitious, per se, but this was all too weird to count on nothing going wrong with your car on the way home. With a deep breath, you turned the key.

The car started without a hitch. Thank god. With a shuddering breath, you pulled out.

The streetlights of the main road were a welcome comfort. It wasn’t long after dark, so the city’s nightlife was coming alive. It was such a relief to be in a place where other living people were walking around. The sound of your stomach grumbling cut into that thought. Of course, you’re hungry. You hadn’t eaten in hours. The spookiness of the manor almost made you forget that fact.

You pulled into a convenience store a few blocks away from your apartment. There was absolutely no way you had the energy to cook after the adventure you’d been on. You glanced at your passenger seat. The backpack you had tucked the folders into sat there completely unassuming. You tucked the bag under the seat for safety’s sake, and stepped out of the car. You rushed into the shop to pick up something for dinner. The less time you spend here, the better.

You searched the aisles quickly, settling on getting the first thing you laid eyes on. A sandwich. Simple, boring, and safe. Anything to throw in normalcy where you felt there was none. You paid and headed back to the car, ready to be home and done with this whole ordeal.

Your hair was standing on end.