A/N: Well, I fancied my hand at writing a crossover story, so here it is. I've noticed that the Animal Crossing X Silent Hill section of the website is a well-populated destination, so I hope that I meet all of your high expectations. In all seriousness, if anyone out there actually reads this, you can probably tell this isn't an altogether straight-faced yarn. I've wanted to write something for both of these fandoms for a long time, but having no great inspirations for either, I decided to smash them together to see what would happen.
Enjoy!
Sequence 1: The Fog
Mayor Tortimer gazed out of the dull grey window that faced his desk, taking in the underwhelming sight of an even greyer day. Spots of rain started to dribble down the pane, and the low and monotonous sound of pattering on the roof covering above threatened to lull the old mayor into a haze of late afternoon slumber.
As the crusty tortoise began to breathe more loudly, the rocking of his chair coming to a peaceful still, a loud plop brought him back to his senses. He gazed over at the metal bucket laid out in the middle of the floor, semi-empty yet nonetheless filled with enough excess rainwater to brew a small, if salty, cup of coffee.
The rhythmic clicking of Pelly on the typewriter across the room started to become entangled with the chorus of rain, becoming akin to a twisted version of Blithely Oaks' town theme. The pelican was typing out a message to her boyfriend living in Boondox. Occasionally, Tortimer would pretend to go over to the notice board at the back of the room and sneak a peek at the text.
The last time he had looked, Pelly had been pouring her frustrations into a rather desperate plea involving the cramming of a grilled cheese and dirt sandwich into regions best left unimagined. Needless to say, the mayor had lapped up every juicy detail, dirty old cad that he was.
It was about half-past 3 on a Wednesday afternoon. The town was desolate, isolated to their homes by the torrential gloominess outside. Even the local black market had packed up for the day, with the owner retreating inside a nearby dustbin to light up a herbal bong.
Nook's Cranny, ordinarily the hub of activity in the town, was closed for renovations, brown tarpaulin cloaking the construction from the outside world. The occasional hollow tapping of a chisel from inside was one of few sounds capable of disturbing the vacuum that hung over the town.
Life had come to a deathly still.
Until, that is, when the bell above the Town Hall's front door pealed at roughly quarter to 4, and one of the town's resident gardeners/hole diggers/merciless hunters entered, adorned by a red cowboy hat. As he approached the counter, a strange limp in his walk, Pelly looked up, noticing the swellings on his face.
"Oh, not again," she sighed.
"Look, I need money, okay?" the donkey exclaimed. "Nook is bleeding me dry with his Chic furniture bundles... If somebody is leaving bags of cash up trees, then it's all fair game to try and take them down!"
Pelly tutted. "What do you want anyway?"
"I need to post a letter."
Pelly held out her feathered fingers in anticipation of an envelope.
"Hang on, I haven't written it yet. Can you take a dictation?"
Pelly sighed loudly, making her disapproval very apparent.
"Fine."
"Okay."
The donkey, who for narrative purposes will now be referred to by his name, which is Buck, cleared his throat and began.
"Dear Camofrog. Comma. You suck. Exclamation Mark times two."
Pelly cussed silently as 'suck' was absorbed into the matrix of Nintendo censorship, never to be seen again.
Buck continued, undeterred. "If you want your watering can delivered, you can do it yourself. Full stop. Plus, you should work out, weed. Full stop. Kind regards, the Big Buck. Got it?"
Pelly mumbled, chewing her pen ravenously as she scribbled.
"Will that be all?"
"No. I want to make a payment on my mortgage."
"Go ahead."
Buck slid a single Bell across the counter, smiling smugly. Pelly took it, pausing to spit on it covertly, before putting it in her cash register.
Satisfied, Buck turned and headed for the door. Opening it, he paused in the doorway, gazing out at the majesty of his town of Blithely Oaks. A tendril of white, smoky mist curled around his headspace, and nothing more than a metre away from his eyes was remotely visible, the whole world obscured by a milky haze.
"This fog rolled in fast," Buck noted, stepping out into the shifting white vortex.
As he started to walk he became aware of some intrusive ambient noises from around him. The heavy rustling of footfalls on golden leaves - a rushing of water in one of the three babbling brooks that ran through the town. Yet, nothing was visible.
Suddenly, a phantasmic-white blur rushed before his eyes, and all of a sudden Buck ended up trapped inside a circular prism.
"Oops," said Teddy, lifting his bug catching net off of Buck's head. "Sorry, partner. I thought you were an Emerald Butterfly. I love them so much, partner."
"Yeah, get lost," Buck spat, pushing the klutzy bear aside.
"Wait, I have a joke for you!"
Buck sighed loudly. "What is it?"
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there," Buck growled.
"You're."
"You're who?"
"You're dead," Teddy laughed, his face warping and distorting as long, fanged tendrils erupted from inside his throat, snaring Buck inside their hungered grasps.
A guttural and contorted laughter emanated from the back of Teddy's throat, the sound giving the impression of something being forcibly stretched or crushed.
Buck's dying screams were muffled into near-silence as he was pulled inside Teddy's boa constrictor-like mouth, the last sight in this life being an enlarged and wobbly uvula as it grew closer and closer.
Then, there was only Teddy. And soon after, even he vanished, dissolving into the mist from whence he came.
Ellis pushed open the door of his house tentatively, head poking around the corner to check for stealthy, battle-ready ninja tarantulas.
He wished he'd never taken on that challenge from Camofrog...
"Bet ya can't catch a tarantula before me, ribbit!"
What a slimy little prick.
He hadn't bothered to visit Ellis either, unlike the rest of the townsfolk, who instead of bringing flowers or chocolates had brought pile after pile of assorted carpets, dumping them all in a messy stack at the foot of his bed.
The weather outside was far from the flotilla of sunshine that the message board outside the town hall had promised. Although by now Ellis was used to the serial lying of the townsfolk, the apparent innocence of the inconspicuous board still blindsided him every time.
Fog drifted past him in massive clouds, like regiments in an army. He stepped out of the house cautiously, closing the door behind him and pulling out his slingshot. It certainly paid to take precautions in such a dangerous town.
He could still picture Margie's sweet, innocent face... but now it was distorted by images of her falling face-first into the river and drowning whilst trying to hook a Popeyed Goldfish. Nobody had bought the "I moved out!" letter that they had received in their letterbox - not when every single one of its kind was written on the same stationary; stationary from Nook's Cranny.
Noticing that his money tree was wilting, Ellis let out a sharp squeal and ran over to it, seizing his watering can between quivering hands.
"Come on baby, just a little peek, just for me," he whimpered.
The tree was, however, as dead as Lyle's chances of selling insurance. A solitary tear rolled down Ellis' cheek.
"There goes my shot at paying off Nook's debt," he sighed. "God-damnit."
Suddenly, he heard a howl next to him, and a big black wolf tore out of the bushes towards him.
A brief flash of fear crossed Ellis' face, before it turned into a scowl of mild irritation at having been startled so easily.
"Hey, Wolfgang," he greeted.
The wolf grunted. "Hmph. And what the heck do YOU want, snarl?"
"I'm just killing time," Ellis muttered.
Wolfgang's eyebrows leapt up. "Say, have you tried this tofu diet? Its... amazing..."
Ellis smirked. "You don't sound so sure..."
Wolfgang groaned. "Yeah, its pretty awful, snarl. But this whole vegetarian reformation is important to me... I can't go back - I can't."
Despite his deeply-cynical nature, Ellis couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for his downtrodden lupine neighbour.
"It'll get easier," Ellis assured him, patting him gently on the shoulder.
Wolfgang froze, staring at the hand like it was an alien probe, before loosening his shoulders and letting out a short huff.
"Well thanks, I guess, snarl. Here, have a wardrobe."
Ellis accepted the green leaf icon with a faux pas of gratefulness, making a mental note to sell it off next time he saw Nook.
"Say, have you seen Buck anywhere?" Wolfgang asked. "That fool owes me a Crucian Carp."
Ellis shook his head, gesturing to the smothering fog that was closing in on the pair at a frightening speed, cloaking the world around them.
"It's getting heavier."
Wolfgang shrugged. "It's strange, snarl. I don't think its very common to have quite so much of it at once."
As the duo looked out at the fog, they suddenly became aware of a distant rumbling sound. It was a dull, cushioned echo, and at first it was so quiet, Ellis thought he had imagined it. But then, it started again, and it sounded louder.
And closer.
"Heck is that?" Wolfgang asked, looking about himself uncertainly.
"I'm not sure," Ellis admitted, but taking out his net just in case of the appearance of a rare bug.
The rumbling stopped again, before starting up right beneath their feet. By this point, it was nearly as loud as the throttle of a lawnmower engine. The dirt upon the surface of the ground seemed to shake in its presence, and before he even registered the thought in his brain, Ellis was running, taking Wolfgang roughly by the shoulder, and tugging him away.
It was at the exact moment that they had gotten out of range when the enormous pickaxe burst through the ground, followed by a glowering red snout, and white, circular balls of rage.
"Damn resetters!" The seething mole cried. "Now I've got you."
Ellis started to hyperventilate, frantically trying to recall whether he had turned off his game in recent days, but no memories resurfaced.
"Resetti?" Wolfgang asked, bemusedly. "What are you doing here? I thought you got laid off?"
"No rest for the wicked!" Resetti boomed, slowly rising out of the earth.
And it was at that point that both Ellis and Wolfgang realised that there was something horribly wrong.
The top half of Resetti's body was just as one would expect - furious, arm-waving body, dressed in blue dungarees and wielding a sharp-looking axe. However, the bottom half, from waistline downwards, was a whole other beast entirely.
In fact, 'beast' put it quite rightly.
Perhaps the best way - although the way most likely to produce nightmares - of detailing the creature that comprised Resetti's lower torso is to say that it was like a towering totem pole of bones. Or, more accurately, mounds of flesh with shards of cartilage jutting out, like legs on a centipede. In fact, centipede was the first thought to hit Ellis amongst a wave of numbness and intellectual blackout.
And yet, this was no centipede. It was a huge, writhing mass of literal nightmare fuel, fresh from a graveyard.
Wolfgang had just been staring silently as the eldritch abomination rose from the earth, but as it coiled its elongated, arthropod body upon the ground and hissed at the pair with its Resetti face, he let out a short, dull shriek.
"Run!" Ellis screamed, Wolfgang furiously nodding his agreement as the Resetti-pede took chase, slithering across the ground like a serpent with bone protrusions waggling.
And so, they did just that. They ran.
Blathers looked out of the window of his museum, drawing back sharply with a light squeal as a tuft of pea soup-coloured fog in the shape of a bug slapped its body against the window.
His heart fluttering, Blathers shook his head furiously, desperate to dislodge the image.
It had been four hours. Four hours since the fog had rolled in, quick as a riptide in the heart of a storm, dragging it with it the most terrifying of hallucinations - some simple taunts, others terrible, solid threats. Threats with teeth and claws and... PINCERS.
Blathers shivered violently at the remembrance. He had been so shaken, he had nearly bolted himself, Brewster and Celeste inside, pushing his T-Rex skull against the wooden doors in the hope of keeping R.L. Stine's satanic spawn from entering his beloved roost.
But then the others had come. Some running, others literally pelting down the pathway, tail between their legs, screaming. Almost all of the town's residents were here now - Tortimer, Pelly, Phyllis, Nook, The Able Sisters, Crazy Redd, The two guardsmen from the Town Gate... And then, of course, the villagers: Hugh, who had been wailing like a piglet; Queenie, whose feathers were stuck up like a frightened little hatchling; Pierce, who bolted through the door with his two favourite dumbbells hefted up onto his shoulders... Only Wolfgang and Ellis were unaccounted for.
The other residents were gone... taken by the fog. Hugh had sworn to have seen Teddy wandering the fog, gigantic snakes swarming out of his mouth, but had thought better about approaching him. Camofrog had been found floating face-down in a pond. Buck's beloved dice shirt had been found with tooth and claw marks down its front. And Dotty? The less said about her, the better.
Blathers opened his eye, saw that the fog had morphed back into its normal, gaseous state, and let out a strangled sigh of relief. Next to him, Crazy Redd was sat on a box, cradling himself and rocking back and forth, muttering incomprehensibly to himself.
"That's curazeeeeeeee," he whispered, leaning his head against the wall. "Cousin, dat be some crazzzzeeeness."
Brewster had been the calmest of all, always the level-headed one that you could rely on. He had quickly doled out free hot drinks on the dozen - tall, frothing mugs of freshly-weaned Pigeon Blend, as well as other assorted flavours. He was keen to keep the residents' minds off of the waking nightmare that they currently inhabited. However, that didn't stop him from exhibiting his usual brand of stubbornness when faced with a difficult customer.
"It's too hot right now, okay! Just let it cool for a bit!" Pierce protested again, causing Brewster to calmly put down the cup he was washing out, gently rest the folds of his wings upon the counter in front of Pierce, and look the bird straight in the eye.
"NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, YOU PONCY LITTLE TURD!" He screamed. "IF YOU COME TO MY CAFE, THEN YOU WILL DRINK MY COFFEE, YOU WILL DRINK WHEN IT IS PIPING HOT, AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!"
Pierce blinked several times, with the speed of a rotating ceiling fan, then lifted his coffee to his lips, swilling it down hurriedly.
K.K. Slider, who had 'just been passing through, man', decided to perform some of his more melodic tunes in an attempt to pacify the fearful villages. It seemed to be working quite well, the gentle hum of his strumming lulling the neighbours into a peaceful state.
Even Phyllis, known for being the most insufferable person alive, seemed to be in a state of blissful weariness, her head down on the table, lipstick smeared across the bench as she snored loudly.
Unbeknownst to Blathers, the old mayor Tortimer was currently trying to chat up his sister in the aquarium room. He had hobbled up behind her as she had been reverently watching the Ocean Sunfish rippling in the tank's current.
"Soooo, you like constellations, do ya?" he wheezed.
Celeste looked at Tortimer and smiled warmly. "Yes. Do you?"
"Not usually, but you, baby, were WRITTEN IN THE STARS!"
Celeste's smile melted away as she realised she was being hit on once again.
"Oh, feck off you old fart," she moaned, Tortimer glumly looking down before hobbling away.
Back at the window, Blathers looked out once again through the fog. Nearly none of the town's architecture or flora was remotely visible in the white desolation - only the outlines remained, visible by the keen-eyed.
The curator was just about to look away when he saw them - two figures, dashing towards the museum out of the fog.
Blathers squinted, trying to make the figures out. As they drew closer, he had a sudden jolt of recognition.
"It's Ellis and Wolfgang!" he squawked. "Open the door!"
Booker immediately went to unlock the chains, only to have Cooper put a hand on his shoulder, attempting to stop him.
"How do we know its really them, and not some trick of the fog?" the guarddog asked. "Just like the apparition of Dr. Shrunk that attacked Booker and I?"
"We can't just leave them out there!" Blathers roared. "It's... its damn-near murder!"
Cooper took out his spear and pointed it at Blathers with restrained anger. The bird immediately recoiled at the sight of the weapon.
"If you're wrong, it's on you... curator," Cooper hissed, before allowing Booker to pull open the museum doors.
Almost immediately, Ellis and Wolfgang came rushing through the doors. The latter was slobbering hysterically; the former, upon entering, let out a tirade of pleas.
"Close it, close it!"
"Close what?" Booker asked, genuinely confused.
"The door! Close the door!"
"Oh, um, okay. Terribly sorry, I hadn't realized-"
"JUST DO IT!"
Cooper leaned in, slamming the doors shut and bolting them. Just before the outside world became invisible, he could have sworn he saw an enormous serpentine shape writhing in the fog.
Wolfgang, panting heavily, sank to his knees on the museum floor. Queenie approached him tentatively. "Wolfgang, you okay?"
"Do I look okay, snarl?!" The villager snapped.
Queenie sighed with relief. "He's fine."
"What happened to you guys?" Blathers asked.
"Mr. Resetti," Ellis cried breathlessly. "He's turned into a monster... Well, a BIGGER monster... He chased us... What the heck is going on?"
Blathers came over all world-wearied for a moment, giving a short little cross between sigh and laugh.
"I've heard tales of such a fog," he began, everyone in the lobby crowding around to hear what he had to say. "Myths... Legends... I had no reason to take any notice of them. Why, when I was a young owl in college, I-"
Someone in the room coughed loudly, and Blathers realised he had started to warble.
"Oh, my apologies. Anyhoo, in the tales, the fog is described as coming from another world entirely... It is known as the Other, a nightmarish plain said to resemble our own, only horrifically twisted and brimming with demonic presences..."
"Hey, isn't that like our town alr-"
The crowd collectively shushed the interrupting party, and they fell silent. Blathers continued.
"It is said that once every thousand years, the two worlds are at their closest, and they start to overlap, causing contents of the nightmare realm to be pulled into our own... And vice-versa."
"So, the residents of the town that have been attacking us..." Queenie began.
"...Are from the nightmare realm? Aye, it is possible. Likely, even. But there is a more terrifying proposition... They may have been the residents of our own world, horribly transformed after drifting in and out of the Other..."
"That's unthinkable!" Cooper blurted. "Inconceivable! These villagers couldn't catch a fly in a bug net, let alone hurt one!"
"These are no longer the villagers we used to know," Blathers droned ominously. "The fog is said to reflect our greatest fears, taking forms of both the familiar... and the most certainly not..."
Ellis thought back to centipede Resetti, and shuddered.
"Is there anything to be done?" Queenie cried.
"I fear not," Blathers said solemnly. "The crossing of the two worlds has long been said to be a herald of the end of all things... The dawn of the Eschaton, starting line of the apocalypse... Ground zero of the end times... Point A of-"
"We get the point," Ellis assured him.
"Well, yes, I suppose you do..." Blathers grumbled.
"Then what do we do?" Wolfgang growled, having seemingly recovered enough to assume his normal, misery-guts attitude.
"We ride it out in here!" Cooper declared brightly. "If we survive long enough, maybe things will go back to the way they were!"
The room was filled with a chorus of excitable and hopeful chatter. Only Blathers remained stony-faced.
"Sometimes the scariest things are not those that you lock out, but those that you lock in..." he murmured to himself.
Ellis, looking around the faces of his fellow survivors, suddenly made out Hugh in the crowd, and joyously made his way over.
"Dr. E!" Hugh grinned, upon seeing his closest friend. "Glad to see you made it!"
"You too!" Ellis laughed. "I'd hate to have had to save your bacon!"
Hugh chuckled at Ellis' good-natured pork joke, unlike Rasher, a previous resident, who despite having the most blatantly-ironic name in history, was a sourpuss with no sense of humour.
"Did Pierce make it?" Ellis asked hopefully of his other mate.
"Yeah, he's having coffee in the Roost," Hugh smiled. "You wanna go grab a mug?"
"Sure, let's TROT down!" Ellis replied, prompting another laugh from Hugh. The two headed downstairs.
Blathers turned his attention back to the fogged-up window. As he did so, he saw that there was the faint, yet distinct outline of a handprint upon the window pane. He shuddered as he processes the image, imagining when it had been left; who it had been left by...
Had they been watching the residents through the window?
As the thought crossed his mind, Blathers could have sworn he heard a distant cry from outside. An unnatural, guttural sound, like no animal he had ever heard.
But, as he looked back to the chattering villagers, none of them seemed concerned. Maybe he had imagined it.
It was going to be a long, long night.