Hello again, Deathicated! I know I'm supposed to be working on wrapping up Beginning Again, and I am, I promise! But I've been dying to re-write Volume One forever, so I figured I'd do it now. This is going to be Volume One: The Maskmaker re-written in first-person (present tense) and told with a lot more detail. When I say first person, I mean it's from the view point of whoever it is when the game says 'You are now [name].' So if it says 'You are now Mal Fallon', it's Mal's POV. I'll use the lines from the actual game for the most part, though I'll add some things for character development. This will be split up into the chapters in the game, so there will be seven, including this prologue (I think). Oh, and the dialogue will be written according to the 'correct' choice that gets you points in the game. If it's one of the choices that doesn't affect your points, I'll just pick which I like best. c:

Alright, enough of my rambling; enjoy, and please tell me what you think! C:


Prologue - Sophie Patterson

I wake up somewhere cold and dark. Struggling to open my eyes, I slowly try to sit up. I'm lying in a dingy, moldy-smelling corner. My pale wrists are bound, and my head throbs.

Nnh... My head... What... What happened? Where am I?

I look frantically around, but am only met by darkness as my eyes struggle to adjust to the only source of light in the room: a long, yellow bulb that glows eerily. I try to remember what happened, but to no avail.

The... The last thing I remember is the club... How did I get here?

Doing my best to ignore the pain, I turn my head slightly to find a masked man standing over a workbench across the room. His back is to me, but I can still see him laying tools out. Methodically, as if he's done this many times before, he lays out a scalpel, a palette knife, and a bucket.

Oh my God... Oh my God! He has a knife!

I take several deep breaths to calm myself down.

Calm down, Sophie. Don't make things worse. Look for a way out of here; there has to be a way out.

I look behind me and am barely able to make out a narrow flight of stairs leading up to who-knows-where.

Though my first instinct tells me to scream for help, alerting the masked man that I'm conscious doesn't seem wise. Instead, I use the corner of the wall as a brace and rise unsteadily to my feet.

I need to be quiet... I can make it out of here...

I start to slowly creep along the wall, taking small, careful steps to avoid being heard. Just as I step onto the first stair, the wooden planks beneath me creak loudly. I wince as the masked man whips around, sees me, and charges. With a frantic scream, I race blindly up the stairs and out into the air above... only to find myself on the deck of a rickety old boat. I recognize the distant shores as those of Alcatraz Island.

Oh my God...

I wildly rush around on deck, searching desperately for a means of escape. I look down into the dark water, and cold ocean spray stings my cheeks. My heart sinks and panic starts to set in.

No... No!

I turn as the masked man emerges from below deck, menacingly holding a syringe in his right hand. I shriek and turn to run before suddenly remembering I am on a ship. Harsh, choppy waves pound against the hull, and my heart sinks. I have a feeling I won't be getting out of this alive. I think for a moment about threatening him, but what threat am I to him? I'm a teenaged girl, and he appears to be a full-grown man. So instead of threatening, I do the only other thing I can think of.

"Please don't hurt me!" I beg, falling to my knees. "Please... Please just let me go. I'll give you whatever you want."

The masked man walks over to me, syringe still in hand. "Yes," he murmurs in a low, sinister voice. "Yes, you will."

I am about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs my arm. Jerking violently, he pulls me to my feet. I feel my shoulder pop out of place, and pain sears through the area.

"Aaagh!" I shriek, biting back tears of pain.

"No more running," he seethes. With surgical precision, the man sticks the syringe into my neck, dosing me with an unknown substance. The prick of the needle and substance going in stings.

"Ahh!" I shriek again, wincing in pain.

What did he just give me? I feel... Dizzy...

The world around me suddenly blurs, and my body goes limp. I try to move, but it's useless; whatever he gave me included a paralysis-inducer. The man now picks me up and carries me bridal-style back below deck. Just before the door slams shut, I take one last desperate glance at the waves and sky; I have a feeling that this is the last time I'll ever see them.

The man lays me down on the workbench, then turns towards his tools. I try to beg him again to let me go, but no words come out. I know it's too late.

"Hhhh..." I murmur weakly, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Don't worry," he says softly. "I'm not going to hurt you." He turns briefly and dips the palette knife into the bucket. He moves it to my face and, to my sheer horror, begins applying layers of what I recognize as plaster to my face.

"I'm just going to show the world your true face," he finishes. He continues to work, covering my mouth and nostrils in several more swipes, leaving my eyes apparently for last.

My lungs soon burn for air, and my vision begins to blur. I struggle, but I can't move; my limbs are completely useless. I try one last pleading time to speak, but the plaster is hardened and my airways are obstructed.

This is it; I'm going to die here. I think of my mother, father, and sister; all of which I'm leaving behind. I think of my friends and boyfriend, and how I wish I could say good bye and I love you, just one last time.

But I can't; it's too late now.

With one last defeated look around, I give in to the darkness, letting it swallow me whole.