#irving hex

It'd been months since your game got destroyed, leaving you without a purpose, and yet Irving had a proposition for you! Thankfully, he could use a designer to help him out, so now you didn't have to go to that weird inn or end up in the void of rejects.

So naturally, you had accepted, wanting to avoid the unfortunate fate of it. And so for a few months, around four or five, you slowly worked under Irving, trying to understand his gruff attitude and harsh nature.

I mean, sure he's insulting to a lot of people, but he's been okay when around you, he's not mean to you, if anything, he's kind to you, in his own way. I mean, he took off his glasses around you a couple weeks ago, that's progress, right?

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That was two months ago, god what you would give to go back to that time and tell yourself to run away when you could have. He was, hurt, corrupted somehow, he must have, because he developed feelings. And as much as you wish you could pretend that he was just an unfeeling bastard, the way he holds you, crying into your shoulder from guilt, holding onto as if you're the last thing he might be able to hold on for a long time, his whispers of "sorry. I'm so sorry." It's hard to hate him. It's hard to hate him when he makes you feel like everything depends on you.

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"I'll be going now. Don't hurt yourself." He says, like you could, and walks out the door of your his house, the one he had you design, a mockery of your work at this point to trap you in the same home you designed as a safe space before he took you into your safe space.

He closes the door, and walks away to his office, that much you can see from the partially made windows, you never did finish animating those, and now it's a waiting game again. You slowly crawl over the house again, trying to figure out what to do again. Eyes flit over to the bookcase, thankfully you put a pencil in here before you realized why he wanted you to design a home you'd be comfortable in. The books aren't readable, he didn't program that in, but if you glitch it, you could open it to a blank page to write in.

It's been a boring few hours, there's only so many times you can try glitching the book into reality to draw one before frustration takes over. Throwing it down onto the ground in anger, it almost perfectly syncs up with the sound of alarms rising in the background, only now hearing due to being blinded by anger.

Now's the chance, the alarms on the door won't sound off as loud due to the other alarms, run. Taking the opportunity, you run and open the door, slamming it into the wall from how rushed you are. Running to the other side, the opposite of where Irving works, the assumption was right, the sirens on the door means nothing to the sirens in the facility, this might be the chance.

The chance to escape. Run.

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"MIR DAMN IT!" He yells, practically screaming. "They tricked the player into this?" He slams his fist on the desk, knocking over a mug filled with sunglasses. He looks over at the chipped thing and sighs. You gave it to him, before he became this mess. He looks back at the screen. "What am I supposed to do?" He frowns, and looks back at the screen. "What do they see? What does the player see?" They obviously see something, because if they saw what they were really doing, they would stop.

He starts typing on the computer. It must be Lazarus that the player controls, he was the only one from Vicious Galaxy that was a different protagonist. He finds the level they're on and smiles. He could fix this in time. He has to fix this. For you.

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Even though everything hurts from being cramped up in the house with nowhere to go, no way to stretch, you keep moving, you have to. Breathing heavy, you slow down and lean on the wall. You got a few floors down from the house and that should've put enough space between you and Irving.

Groondas litter the floor, blood seeping out from gunshots on their carcasses. What's going on? What happened? Why are people killing the Groondas? Just keep moving. Escaping his suffocating grip is more important than finding out why the sirens are going off.

You keep moving, walking now to try and ease a bit of the pain flowing from your muscles and skip past the elevator, there's an exit on this floor that can take you lower if you remember correctly.

BOOM!

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Irving looks around for just a moment when a bomb goes off, before the realization that Lazarus and Jeremiah are gone, the floors broken up into pieces and ceilings cracking under pressure. Shit. How is he supposed to deal with all of this mess?

Wait...

Are you okay? You're on a higher floor, the bomb could've cracked the house and hurt you.

He starts walking, beginning to run with a purpose.

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You tripped, how stupid that one of the few floors who didn't get too much damage made you trip and break your ankle? What kind of cosmic event timing is it that right as you get close to the exit that could help save you, you fail to walk now?

Gritting your teeth and riding adrenaline to go past the pain, you're so close to the exit now. Your hand is on the handle and it swings open to reveal...

Stairs.

The company did change the floor plan after all. A longing sigh comes from you and you start walking down, using the railing to avoid putting pressure on that foot.

One of the doors swings open on a different floor and frantic footsteps start running up the stairs. A flash of blue from an upper floor tells you all you need to know that it's Irving.

"No. No no no no. They have to be okay. They have to be." It slowly dissipates as he goes upward, the opposite direction of you. Thank Mir.

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Door swung right open against the wall, a book on the floor and the alarms going off.

No. No no no . no no no no no no no you can't be gone, you must have been taken, he treated you kindly, there's no way you would have escaped, you need him like he needs you.

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Running down the stairs, pain be damned, it's the final floor that isn't decimated. There's a window that leads to Secrets of Legendaria mockup, if you make it there then you can make it down to where a lower floor is for re-creation and make it out of the headquarters.

Frantic running and then tackled down before you make it to the window. "NO!" You cry out, and arms wrap around you. "Oh thank Mir you're okay, did Lazarus hurt you? Did Jeremiah?" He growls from the back of his throat. "Oh I'll do much worse then Vicious Galaxy this time. It will be much worse."

He stands up, still hugging you with a firm grip and looks you up and down as best as he can, noting your foot. "Oh no, no. They did hurt you." His grip gets noticeably tighter on your arms without him thinking and he breaks his grip when he realizes he's hurting you. "I'm sorry, I just..." He shakes his head and picks you up by the shoulders, gently placing you down and wrapping your arm around his shoulders. "C'mon. I need to fix this and you need to be safe."

You chew on your lip for just a moment, but the window is so close, so tantalizingly close. This is the chance. You shake your head. "No. I want out." You shove him, not very well but it's enough of a surprise to him that he genuinely stops for enough of a moment to for you to run before he snaps from his daze and yanks you back, nails digging into your skin.

"What? No. No! I need you, and you need me." He shakes his head, his glasses are slightly broken and it allows for just a mere glimpse into his eyes, deranged and red, pupils wide.

"No!" He shakes his head and pushes down onto the ground. "No." Something snaps in him, and he gets a smile on his face, already eerie enough to see a smile break upon his face, but the mere fact that he's not crying out in anger anymore is enough to send shivers down your spine. "If I break your legs, then you can't leave me."

He pushes you down further, strength so apparent by the fact that not even your meek struggles even break his focus. His hand grips your kneecap and he fucking snaps it.

A gurgle erupts in your throat, bile rising and threatening to spill from your lips as the mere sound of it cracking and then breaking, bone sticking out of your skin.

You scream and he shushes you with his other hand, moving his next focus to your other leg. It's a blessing that you black out from pain before you can feel the other leg snap.

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The next time you come to, you're laying down in a bed, him sitting next to you. "I'm so sorry." He mutters to himself, head in his hands. "I shouldn't have. I need you. I'm so sorry." You grip the sheets in anger and he notes the movement. "Oh thank Mir, I thought you would never wake up." You glare at him and look down at your legs, mangled and twisted and where they are most certainly not supposed to be.