The AqMan Files

I came to my senses in an elevator, surrounded by captors. As we sank deeper, the smell worsened. It was a wet odor, like dirt after torrential rain, damp with must and mold - I felt my lungs absorbing the sickness. “Where are we?” I finally blurted out. The number of captors was indiscernible through my blindfold, but not one answered. I began to scream for help, blurting words faster than my mind could comprehend. A boot jabbed my ribs, knocking me to the ground. “Quiet.” The austere voice commanded, leaving me to whimper on the metal ground. I would have liked to clutch my ribs, but every limb had been constricted by chains. The elevator came to an abrupt halt, and I was lifted to my feet. Two of the men escorted me forwards by my arms. All around me the sounds of moaning and pleading reigned supreme. Immediately I knew this was a prison - the taunts from behind bars, the pleas for mercy. I was positive I even heard someone proclaim their innocence. My captors threw me into my own cell with unnecessary force. Dirty water splashed around me as I fell into a puddle. My blindfold was ripped from my face, revealing my slovenly surroundings to me. Droplets of water constantly fell from the ceiling, producing a maddening plop every few seconds. Rust and mold covered the walls, and my pitiful slab of a bed. The cell door was slammed shut by my captors, who were clad in military regalia. I scurried to the bars on my knees. “What did I do? Why do they want me here?” From their midst, one man came forth wearing a cap of prestigious rank. His jacket was lined with medallions, and his clean face was unmoving. “You won’t be asking the questions today prisoner. You’re here because you’re a threat to this nation.” “What? What?” I yelled all manner of inanities, none of which granted me freedom. And in that man’s sky blue eyes, I saw not a single shred of sympathy - only the relentless pursuit of duty. He held an old rotary dial phone in his hand, black and rusted. Through the food slot underneath the cell door, this guard slid the cordless phone in my direction. “You will be receiving a call shortly. Answer it, or else you will be disposed of.” The man walked away with his escort. He turned to look at me one last time, those blue eyes revealing a shred of pity. I shivered on the hard floor of my cell. The mattress was just as solid, and contained no blanket. It was unbearably cold, as if Winter itself slept within this prison. Far up the back wall was a singular small window, shielded by bars. The blue sky shone in from it, revealing a tarnished golden plaque underneath the window. ‘Donated for the humane treatment of subjects.’, The plaque read. I laughed at this joke, wanting to smite the window, wishing it were not there. How cruel it was to receive that sultry glimpse of the outside world. Laying down, I glared at the telephone, awaiting the first call. Across the hall, an old bearded man cackled incessantly from within his cell. After minutes, this laughter taunted me, causing my ears to ring from fatigue. “Hey!” I yelled at the old man, receiving only a howl in response. I could see his ribs jutting outward, barely covered by a brown, tattered robe. “Hey! Knock it off!” I yelled once more. “He won’t stop laughing.” A rational voice explained from the cell next to me. His face was not visible from my cell. “We call him Bhaal the Lifer. Some say he’s been here close to one hundred years. You can imagine why he would be laughing like that now, couldn’t you?” “What is this place? Why have they taken me here?” I asked the invisible face. “No one knows what or where this place is. Only that we will never leave, and that the whereabouts are not known to anyone outside. From what I hear, even the guards themselves never see the outside world. Once you step foot in here, you will never leave again - whether you’re a prisoner or not.” “No, no…” I muttered, my hands sliding down the bars in defeat. “This has to be a dream, has to…” “I can assure you this is no dream, friend.” The voice was calm, carrying a soothing quality across the cells. “What is your name, friend?” “Ralov,” I answered in a whisper. “Ralov, I am Michael. I believe we will come to know each other quite well during our time here.” Bhaal’s laughter hammered my eardrums, obscuring many of Michael’s words. I only wished I could see Michael’s face - it was tough to take solace in a voice. For all I knew, that voice could come from a machine, or from something inhuman. Only Bhaal could see into Michael’s cell. Perhaps that glimpse had driven Bhaal to depravity. Startling me, the black phone began to ring. The ringing was distorted, as if the wiring had been compromised. “You better answer that,” Michael commented. “You don’t want to know what happens if you don’t.” “What do they want with me?” I frantically asked Michael. “What are they going to say?” “Ralov, I can only assure you that if you are here, then the matter is far out of our reach - now answer the phone, quickly boy.” With a trembling hand, I lifted the phone off of its hook. Hesitant to hold the grimy handset to my face, I spoke to it from a distance. “...Hello?” I whispered. There was only phone static in response, though I thought I could hear deep breaths from the other end. “Hello?” I asked quicker this time. “Ralov Charsky.” A deep voiced man answered. “I am going to keep this brief, as I have many other subjects to speak with - you are here because you are confirmed to have been infected with an AqMan Complex. Are you able to confirm this statement?” I figured that the AqMan complex of which he mentioned had referred to Dr. AqMan himself. “AqMan Complex?” I asked stupidly. “What is that? Why am I here?” “Don’t ask questions that are out of line-” The voice admonished me. “Individuals containing an AqMan Complex hold the false and irrational belief that somewhere, in a chamber close to the core of the planet, a man named Dr. AqMan is bound to severe suffering, begging to be saved. Can you confirm your belief that this Dr. AqMan is real?” My mind whirred. I wondered if denial of the accusation would grant me freedom - but then I remembered Michael’s promise. No one would ever leave this place, guilty or innocent. Truthfully, I had known about Dr. AqMan, rotting away in some sort of capsule beneath the planet. In my youth I was skeptical about the idea, but it seemed to be widely accepted - I thought that amidst the conjecture, a shred of truth existed. “I have known of Dr. AqMan, why?” I asked, hoping that honesty would be my salvation. There was silence on the other end, marinating me in anxiety. “Can you recall when you first came to believe the idea of Dr. AqMan?” The man asked. Sifting through my memories, I could not recall that specific moment. It seemed to be an idea contained within me since childhood. Yet, had religious people been able to pinpoint that exact moment when they had found god in their lives? “I.. I.. No.” I answered in brutal honesty. “I want you to think about that, Ralov.” His voice grew assuring now, imploring me as if I were a friend. “We will not reveal much now, but think on that question. Before I go, I have a few crucial pieces of information. First off, I would like to ask that you say nothing of our calls, and specifically nothing of Dr. AqMan to your cell mates. We do not want the complex to spread.” I swallowed. The dilemma made little sense to me. “Ok…” “Second, check under that mattress of yours - you will find a piece of paper listing phone numbers.” Following orders, I checked under the mattress, confirming the deposit of that list. About eight phone numbers lined the sheet from top to bottom, hastily written. “I’ve got the paper.” I answered. “Good. Now, if at any point in our talks you find that I have come to develop an AqMan Complex, you are to cease our discussions at once, and call the first number on that list. That will bring you to the next operator. You will repeat that process, calling the next number for each operator that is infected. Is this clear?” “How will I know if you develop an AqMan complex?” I asked. “Simple-” The operator began. “I will confirm that at the center of the earth, a man named Dr. AqMan exists in immense suffering, calling out to me for help.” A drop of water wet the paper in my hand. “...Ok…” I replied nervously. “What happens if every operator gets an AqMan complex? Who do I call then-” But before I could ask my question in full, there was a clank, and the call ended. Holding the phone in my hand like an artifact, I placed it slowly on its hook. As if mocking me, Bhaal’s laughter grew louder and raspier. Clutching my knees for warmth, I fell back on my mattress. The following hours were spent staring through my small porthole, donated out of generosity. Through Bhaal’s endless laughter, I could hear the chirping of birds and serene gusts of wind. A plush white cloud passed in the sky overhead. In that image alone, I thought I may obtain sleep - but the cackling made it impossible. Growing restless, I stomped to the door of my cell. “Does he ever stop?” I asked impatiently, hoping that Michael would respond. But he did not. Michael was likely asleep - how I envied his ability to cope with our surroundings. Before I walked back to the bed in shame, his friendly voice surprised me. “You learn to live with Bhaal’s laughter. You learn to sleep through it. But to answer your question explicitly, yes - it does stop every now and then. Only when he sleeps, and sometimes, not even then.” Across the hall, Bhaal rolled on the floor, banging his fists on the ground. “What does he find so funny?” I asked, gritting my teeth. “Who knows? This place does that to people. Or perhaps he finds life itself to be a joke. I’ve come to agree with him in that regard.” The operator’s warning was firm - do not discuss the calls with the fellow cellmates. But Michael held a trusting demeanor, and I had no one else to call a friend. “Michael, do you get the phone calls too?” “Don’t -” Michael’s voice lost its kindness, and sank to the depths of reprimand. “Don't say anything else, my dear Ralov. Now get some sleep.” But as heavy boots stepped down the hall with authority, I knew that sleep would have to wait. Stepping back from the bars as if I hadn’t been conversing with cellmates, the blue eyed guard approached. He held a metal tray of steaming hot food, stopping at my cell door. The moment he slid the tray under the door, I attacked it with ravenous hunger. The guard looked down his nose at me, shaking his head as I shamelessly devoured the mashed potatoes. “I was told your phone call went well. That’s good. You should continue to cooperate.” He said with a hint of contempt. Looking upwards, licking gravy from the corner of my mouth, I gave no reply. The guard never looked at Michael’s cell, never acknowledging anyone was there. Once again I wondered if Michael was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. “How long have you worked here?” I asked suspiciously. The guard laughed, squinting his blue eyes. “To say I work here is generous, Mr. Ralov. Moreso, there is no other job for me. We are both prisoners here - the difference is that you are behind bars, and I am not.” Before the guard walked away, he tipped his hat. “Keep up the good behavior, and perhaps one day you will be able to wander these halls as I do.” That promise did not grant me bright visions of the future. A lifetime serving mad prisoners seemed just as fruitless as rotting away in a cell. I shuddered before finishing the rest of my food. Bhaal’s laughter died with the sunlight, finally giving me an interval to sleep. “Goodnight, Ralov.” Michael’s phantasmal voice chimed, as I laid on the stone mattress. Without reply, I drifted into slumber, peering into the night sky through my porthole. Oddly, the sky appeared discolored, containing a slightly pink hue. As if the land was permanently blighted by twilight. A nightmare tortured me as I tossed and turned. As I spoke with the mysterious operator, tendrils protruded from the phone itself, wrapping around my hand. Then, as I traveled through the connection, I witnessed the operator. It was deep beneath the prison, floating in a temple, with a singular eye. The meaty mass of tentacles and veins stared at me, burning a hole in my forehead. A familiar ring broke the trance, shocking me awake. Jerking my head upwards, I could barely see the dark form of the phone, slightly vibrating. The sky was pink, and devoid of stars. I crawled about the wet floor, feeling for the phone. “...H- Hello?” I muttered. “Mr. Ralov. We apologize for disturbing your sleep. Have you come to any conclusions regarding our prior conversation?” “No,” I yawned, wiping residual weariness from my eyes. “In truth, I think this whole thing is pointless. You say that I am here because I believe a Dr. AqMan exists, but I never even knew if he really did or not. I never had any intention of going to save Dr. AqMan from the center of the earth, it was just… an idea! A stupid thought, something that I knew of, but never wanted to act upon. Does that make sense?” “But,” the operator grew concerned. “You admit to knowledge of Dr. AqMan’s existence, even just the existence of the idea itself?” “Yes,” I said, unable to deny the question. “Yea, it’s just the idea - that’s all.” “Then that, Mr. Ralov, is why you are here.” Silence ensued in the moments following. Our breaths comprised the conversation, until the operator broke in for the last time. “You will come to be of great assistance to us, Ralov - unfortunately, I must inform you that this will be our last call.” “Already?” I asked, almost relieved. “Yes, you see…” He paused. Regret lingered in the operator’s voice. “I realized tonight, shortly after our conversation, that I believe there is a man named Dr. AqMan who exists at the core of the planet, screaming out for help.” Unable to respond to the claim, I grew desperate for information. “Why… how? What is this AqMan Complex?” I began to yell, not caring if I woke Bhaal or Michael. “Please, you have to tell me! Why am I here!” “You will receive a call tomorrow, from the next operator. If you wish to discuss more, you may call him before then - he is the first number on your list. Farewell, Mr. Ralov.” Suddenly a gunshot burst my eardrums, rupturing the phone line like thunder. I dropped the phone into the puddle, grasping my head as severe ringing pounded my hearing. After understanding the implications, I fished the phone from the puddle. “Hello?” I was desperate to obtain an answer. There was no reply - only phone static and silence. “Hello?” I began to sob, praying into the phone. “Ralov -” A sleepy voice emerged from the cell next to me. Placing my hands and face against my bars, I sought Michael’s comfort. “Ralov, are you alright?” He asked. “No, no!” I began to panic. “I have to know what’s going on here, what is this AqMan Complex? What is it?” “No, no!” Michael yelled. I could picture him covering his ears, unwilling to listen to me proclaim the words. “Yes! Tell me! I won’t tolerate your ignorance any longer!” “Ralov, please don’t!” Michael begged with fervor. He hailed the whole of the prison, pleading his innocence.. “I don’t know what he’s talking about!” Michael yelled. “I didn’t hear him, I didn’t hear!” Michael fell into a fit of despair. Sympathy gripped me; he was my only friend inside these desolate walls. “Michael, why can’t we talk about it?” I asked to no avail. Michael continued to cry. Like a dormant volcano, Bhaal erupted with laughter. He coughed in between his laughs, spurting blood from his mouth. Like a zombie, I walked back to my mattress, thrusting my face into it. Between Michael’s sobs and Bhaal’s pain there was no silence. And the ominous pink sky outside promised no tranquility either. Like an insidious disease, yellow now seeped into the shades of pink. The next morning, I heard Bhaal moaning and screaming with pain, without a single laugh to be heard. Across the hall, he was writhing on the floor, clutching his chest. With ample concern, I rose from my mattress. At some point through the night, I had fallen asleep. I felt well rested, touching my face as if it were newly implemented skin. Outside, yellow had dominated the sky. I had never seen such a hue before, like the atmosphere had become ill. Bhaal groaned with agony; If he did not obtain medical attention soon, he was going to die. “Michael…” I said hopefully. “Michael!” But Michael never responded. I thought of his terror from last night, how he had bartered like a man on the gallows. “Michael, I’m sorry, just please don’t ignore me. I disrespected your wishes, and I won’t betray your trust again. Please, I … I just want one friend, one friend to have in this place…” “You won’t be hearing from Michael again.” A familiar voice exclaimed. Approaching my cell was the blue eyed guard - but his eyes lacked that striking pigment. His most prominent feature had metamorphosed, the eyes now burning an acid green. His gait had perked up, carrying the weight of authority with each step. And that smile that fell across his face… how I shook in his presence, backing away from the bars as if he sought to devour me through them. “Who… who are you?” I asked, nearly fainting. “Me? You don’t recognize me?” There was playfulness to his voice. “Don’t play such games, Ralov.” “Where is Michael?” I asked. “Michael has been set free - his sentence was served, it had ended this morning.” But I did not trust this strange man’s words. Michael had said himself that no one would ever escape from this hell. “But you said that everyone here is a prisoner, even yourself.” I looked straight into those pupils, slit like a snake’s stare. The guard was irritated that I had put such words in his mouth. He leaned forward, putting his face uncomfortably close to mine. His skin glimmered with oil, far too slick, far too reflective. “There is no Michael anymore.” He whispered harshly. “And if you do not stop asking questions, there will be no you anymore.” I stepped back slowly, unwilling to converse with this stranger any more. He disappeared momentarily, before returning with a tray of food. After sliding the tray under my door, he walked away with a sly grin. I poked at the food with a dirty fork. It was not the same quality as yesterday. The food was cold, and held a gelatinous, plastic-like texture. It appeared to be the same dish as yesterday - mashed potatoes, green beans, and meatloaf. But as I took a bite of the meatloaf, I revulsed, spitting it into my cell’s puddle. The taste was awful, artificial. It was like consuming glue, leaving intense bitterness on my tongue. The inside of the meatloaf was gooey, and a gray slime trickled onto my plate. Retching in horror, I shoved the tray, exiling it from my sight. Like a stray dog, I resorted to lapping up dirty water from the puddle, just to get that awful taste out of my mouth. All day, I thought of Michael and the Guard. No birds chirped outside my window that morning. Occasionally an odd shaped cloud passed by, resembling a mist of smoke rather than a pillow. Interrupting my thoughts, the black phone rang. The tone had fallen farther to distortion, ringing at uneven intervals. I didn’t bother to say hello this time. I was too afraid. “Mr. Ralov?” A different voice spoke with haste and anxiety. “Mr. Ralov, if you are there, I need you to listen closely, as we don’t have much time.” “No…” I muttered, indignity brimming from my skull. “No, you listen to me! Until I know exactly what is going on here, I won’t give you a shred of information! Not a shred! A man is dying across the hall from me, and he needs help! Either you tell me what is going on, and you get that man help, or I won’t say a thing! You can kill me if you want!” “Ralov, listen, it’s begun, it’s happening - Don’t call any of the other numbers we gave you. They have all been compromised. Do not speak of anything to anyone. If something approaches your cell, do not trust them. They may promise you freedom, they may hand you the key to your cell and tell you that you are free - DO NOT TAKE THE KEY.” The operator breathed quickly. Vicariously, I could feel the sweat running down his face. “We think that it spreads through speech, it’s already too late for me-” “What is?” I interrupted. “What’s too late? You have to tell me what’s going on! What happened to the guard!” A gunshot concluded our call, as it did in the last one. Lowering the phone from my ear, I glanced at Bhaal's cell across from mine. His moans had weakened to low whimpers of sorrow. No longer did he roll across the floor. He lay still, his chest heaving as droplets of water pounded his forehead. I screamed. Loud as possible, I screamed multiple times, banging the bars on my cell door until I was out of breath. At this point, I wanted either an explanation, or death. I desperately sought the guard’s company, to press him for answers. But he would not come. He would only come when he wanted to, when he felt like mocking and tormenting me. There was none of the usual prison rabble, no screams to accompany mine. A terrible feeling occurred to me - Me, Bhaal, and that sick guard were the only real people left in this place. Consequently, my mind pondered what it meant to be ‘real’. On my bed, I stared at the sodden list of phone numbers. Determining I had nothing more to lose, I obtained the black phone and traversed the list. I entered the second number down, and held the phone close to my ear, as each ring grew more oppressive. ‘The number you have dialed is no longer in operation.’ A robotic woman’s voice intruded, dumping me back into the silence of my surroundings. Unwilling to give up, I entered the fourth number. Again, the robot rejected me. This followed for the fifth as well. Struggling, I entered the sixth number into the dial. Worried I had entered one or two numbers wrong, I nonetheless held the phone to my face. ‘...Hello?’ An uncanny voice answered. I froze at the operator’s amusement, the way his greeting echoed. My mind brimmed with a million questions. I could only mutter “Hello?” To the inhuman voice. ‘Have you seen the world outside?’ It asked. “N… No,” I answered truthfully, staring into the dark yellow sky. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice quivering. ‘It’s me, the voice from the basement.’ Thoughts of the floating observer raided my mind. “Why are you doing this to me?” ‘Hahahaha…’ The menace laughed with mockery. ‘Hahahahahaha!’ “Stop it!” I yelled. “Stop it, stop it, Stop!” I slammed the phone down on its cradle; but that was not enough. With my bare foot I kicked and stomped the phone. Falling to my knees I grasped it, bashing it with rapid force. Bits and pieces of metal and plastic flew in each direction. Wiring came loose, frayed along the wet floor. When I exhausted my fury, the phone was an amalgamated hunk of metal, barely resembling its former self. The cradle was bashed and bent. The handset was twisted, and caved in at the two larger ends. Gasping, I stared at the destruction, entering my own bout of laughter. Grasping my stomach, I felt the sanity slipping from me. It was at that moment I realized I was being watched. Retaining my hopeless smile, I peered across the hall. Bhaal stood against his cell door, clutching the bars. There was no agony or amusement in that bearded face. He looked directly at me; his eyes wide and his lips thin. Intrigued, I stood up and faced him. “You…” I called. “You know something about what’s going on here, don’t you?” Bhaal’s hands trembled. With childlike fear he wore a mask, hiding the loathing of a man who was about to die. “You want to know about the AqMan Complex?” Bhaal asked with a coherent voice. “You know?” I asked with desperation. “What is it? And what’s happening to the world outside?” “I cannot provide you with the answers you seek.” Bhaal grimly answered. “No!” I yelled, rattling the cell door like a vicious primate. “Tell me, tell me!” “Listen here, I don’t have much time left - and neither do you.” Bhaal silenced me with his command - I listened intently. “I don’t know whether I am alive or dead as of yet, but my sudden clarity of mind tells me I have passed long ago… We are all subjects of war. The government believes that we have fallen victim to an experimental form of ontological warfare.” Before the prison, before seeing the sky, the sentences would have made sense. They would have flowed in and out of my understanding like fluid. But I had become mad and dire. Part of me refused to understand his warning. “It begins with the ability to infect the mind.” Bhaal’s eyes grew bloodshot. “As for what foreign entity we are at war with, only they know.” With resignation, the bearded man walked back to his mattress, and fell lifelessly onto it. I watched as his chest slowly heaved, exhaling the very life from his skeletal body. “How do I get out of here?” I yelled - but Bhaal would say nothing more to me, not ever again. “How do I get out?!” Realizing that I was entirely alone, I slumped into the murky puddle. Like a child, I clung to my knees, crying as I rocked back and forth. In the dark yellow sky, I began to hear strange noises, like radars calculating. I wished for anyone to save me - Michael’s calming voice. The Guard’s sardonic sadism. Even Bhaal’s tormented laughter would have soothed me - I would have joined right in. But I didn’t need Bhaal to laugh. I would take his place, as the cackling rose up from my chest like an unstoppable ball of light. My hollering filled the silent halls of the prison all night, until slumber overcame me at an unknown time. I fell asleep starving, causing me to dream of food. Large platters of steaming seafood and cocktails marauded my dreams. It was like looking through a clouded three-dimensional window, from within my moldy cell. Water from the puddle cooled my face as my left side rested in it. Silverfish and parasites crawled through my ear drum from that infested puddle. The droplets of water pounded my forehead with the force of a gavel, each one threatening further pain. Finally, I jerked my head upwards, as a familiar ringing invaded the silence. The black phone shook and vibrated. With incredulous eyes I obtained the broken phone, holding it like a fallen loved one. It had no business working in its destroyed state. It had no right to be alive. Yet it rang, ignorant of its caved in components. I wasn’t going to answer the phone; I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Slowly placing it down, I let it ring, staring cautiously at the ticking time bomb. It rang for an unusually long time. First a minute passed, and then two. I realized that the phone was not going to stop ringing, not until I answered it. I picked up the phone. “...Hello?” There was no immediate answer. Heavy breathing held the other end of the line, like a dying man breathing through a respirator. “Hello?” I said frantically. I looked across the hall into Bhaal’s dark cell, hoping to obtain his company and comfort at this time of cosmic indifference. But on that mattress was a still corpse, unmoving, and uncaring. “...Ralov,” The distorted voice said. “It is about time we have spoken…” The voice stopped between each sentence to take deep, stertorous breaths. “You have been sent here… to me… for a reason.” “Who is this? What’s happening to me?” I pleaded. “I am Dr. Telus AqMan… I am being held captive at the bottom of this prison… in a cold cell… that is impenetrable.” I said nothing outwardly. Inward, I debated upon the possibility that this was a dream; That I was already dead, just as Bhaal was. “You have known that you must come to free me…. If you do not… the fate of the world… is at stake.” “No…” I muttered. “You’re not real, this is all not real. Someone has done something to my brain. You’re just part of some experiment…” Dr. AqMan said nothing more. Only his breathing continued - malefic and labored. From behind me, ominous slithering crossed my window. There was no need to turn around to know that something had found my cell. It looked in at me through the window, above the golden plaque. A massive eyeball burned a hole in my back, beaming right through my spine. My hand dropped the phone, and blood deserted my face. I slowly turned around. Before it disappeared, flying past the bounds of my porthole, a massive orange eye stared at me. The slit pupil was like a tidepool, with parasites swimming about. What was left of the sky was swirling with dark purple malice. For the rest of the night, I clung to the corner of my cell. Nothing that looked in from that cursed porthole would be able to see me. Not unless it held its eyes on skinny stalks that could slip in through the bars. Bhaal’s body decayed across the hall. Flies and maggots picked what little sustenance they could from his diminished frame. In the darkness, I thought I saw large rats slither towards his corpse. But there was something deformed about their shape, unlike any rodent of this world. As that sickly yellow sky returned, Bhaal had been reduced to a fetid cadaver. His entrails leaked from each side, leaving his organs in pieces. My fate was to starve and rot away in this cell, exactly as Bhaal had done. Boots pounded the floor down the hall. The guard approached my cell, and I could not bear to look at him. As each footfall came closer, I felt the world sinking deeper into an abyss. I turned my face into the dark corner of my cell, believing that if I refused to look at him, he would not exist. But his presence was undeniable. My mind formed a perfect image of him as he stood at the cell door - no longer a human, but something that resembled a reptilian. Those green, slitted eyes had consumed his entire body, reshaping him in their likeliness. I would never come to know the final form of that guard. Before he walked away, disappearing for eternity, there was a distinct click, as a key unlocked my cell door. Until I was sure that the guard was gone, I could not move. Even the prospect of my cell door being wide open was frightening. It was a test - it had to be. As soon as I walked out, and embraced the open space, I feared he would pounce on me from the ceiling. I rotated my neck, covering one eye, and observing the cell with my other. The cell door was ajar. Freedom stood before me, beckoning me. Though I knew what laid outside was a fate more dangerous than the inside of my cell. There was no resisting the temptation. I was doomed either way. I had to take my chances with the outside world, or rot away in the cell. My legs wobbled like toothpicks as I walked towards the door. The rusted door whined as the hall of the prison revealed itself to me. As I entered, I glimpsed Michael’s cell for the first time. It was empty- but a gelatinous substance lingered on the ground. It pooled at the center, where the dirty puddle in my own cell had been. As I approached Bhaal’s cell, shadowy creatures fled from their meal. Rubbing my hands on the bars, I suffered a quiet moment of sadness before traversing the hall. The cells lining the prison were of a similar state. Each was either abandoned, or contained a deteriorated corpse. The smell became unbearable as I walked. One long puddle extended through the hall, my feet splashing in it with each step. Hairy moss covered much of the walls and the ceiling, with follicles that seemed to wave at me. Awful ambience lingered in the air, like the pushing of experimental buttons, and the whirring of ancient machines. I knew the exact moment I passed the door to the basement. It called to me as I did. ‘Ralov…’ About three or four steps were visible, until the descent was consumed by darkness. That void compelled me, placing a charm on me, luring my body parts to follow it. I knew the observer was down there, floating in his hidden chamber, orchestrating the horrors that were taking place. Locking my ankles, I stopped walking. Pulling my head away from it was like snapping my own neck, and I instead looked at a spacious lobby. Within was a desk surrounded by broken glass. The desk itself had been attacked and broken in multiple places. Across from it were large double doors. To my mind they shimmered in gold. Gold that cursed and plagued. I imagined another plaque above that door, the prison’s last cruel joke. ‘Have You Seen The World Outside?’ Two handles lay between me and that world. As I pulled, I remembered the operator’s warning. DO NOT TAKE THE KEY. I looked up at the imaginary golden plaque, opening the doors, and revealing the landscape. Purple light blinded me. Through the luminance were silver trees, and silver grass. The dark purple sky contained endless swirls, depicting the arms of the galaxy. Four people stood ahead of me, with their backs turned. They wore no clothing, and had no hair. As they turned around and looked at me, human faces grew on their featureless heads. Beady black eyes formed, followed by lipless mouths. Grinning in unison these creatures stared at me, approaching me. I stepped back inside the prison and slammed the doors shut. As my understanding collapsed, footsteps approached the prison, followed by the most distorted impression of evil human laughter.