Hello, and welcome to NiGHTS: Nightmare in NYC! This story is written in multi-chapter format, and is currently in progress. In the story, we will take a dive into the confusing world of our protagonists, NiGHTS, Reala, and Jackle. They have been pulled from their world of dreams and thrown out into an even stranger one... ours!
Disclaimer - I don't own NiGHTS and any related characters or ideas. All OC's are MINE, so if you take them, I get to send Octopaw-ses after you. DREAD THE OCTOPAW! ^_^
Summary - "We didn't know. Then it changed." Reala, NiGHTS, and Jackle are all transported to the Waking World and immediatley find themselves seperated in the City of Dreams; New York, New York. But this City of Dreams might as well be the City of Nightmares.
Written In - Third Person Omniscient
Screen-play - Try to imagine the characters in anime style! It'll make it a much more exciting read.
Current Chapter Guide -
ACT 1, SCENE 1 - The Beginning
ACT 1, SCENE 2 - The Trust
ACT 1, SCENE 3 - The Change
ACT 2, SCENE 1 - The Kindness
ACT 2, SCENE 2 - The Decision
ACT 2, SCENE 3 - The Situation
ACT 3, SCENE 1 - The Memory
ACT 3, SCENE 2 - The Story
ACT 3, SCENE 3 - The Winner
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And so, without further ado, I gladly present to you…
NiGHTS: Nightmare in NYC!
I look inside myself and see my heart is black.
I see my red door and it's heading into black.
- The Rolling Stones, Paint it Black.
.:THE BEGINNING:.
There was darkness.
A vast, empty black, making all vision impossible.
And at its center, a lone figure. On its back, floating limply, as if laid atop an invisible table in the matrix of the void. Big black boots, connected to white pants. An off-white pheasant shirt, with ruffles at the collar and wrists. A bloody vest adorned with black feathers and adorned by a single rounded ruby encased in gold. Beautiful armored arms bound in muscle leading to cruely clawed hands with pearl pink nails. A face, covered in black and white. Long scars across closed eyes. A jester's cap with two curved tassles flowing out the back, arched proudly and striped to match the outfit.
It twitched.
The gloom echoed with a soft whisper, seeming to come from the end of the murky space. Like a beast locked in slumber it rasped, a steady in and out of still air. The stale taste of sleep rolled through the void, as a voice rumbled.
Awaken… My monstrosity…
The red and black jester snapped into consciousness, and immediately flipped into a battle stance; feet spread just so, hands at the ready, piercing blue eyes narrowed. A feral snarl escaped his black lips, soon swallowed by the suffocating silence that surrounded him once again. His eyes darted back and forth, arms lowering ever so slowly. The creature groaned as realization hit him.
Oh, how quaint. I'm dead. Again.
He face-palmed in frustration, and tapped his foot on an unseen surface absently.
I'm stuck here until Master Wizeman requires my services. Perfect. Absolutely…
Wait.
He moved both hands to his face. His cheeks, his forehead, then his eyes were lightly touched by the tips of his fingers.
Gone.
His eyes widened, absorbing the shock of his discovery.
"It's… gone?"
The jester shook his head, checking in the reflective gold of his gauntlets to solidify what he hoped wasn't true. Two icy cat's eyes stared right back, their expression changing from one of confusion to terror.
"My Persona…"
The Nightmaren's mind drew a blank. "Impossible. My Master will return… this is a mistake! Master?" He shouted into the abyss. "Master!"
His arms fell limp at his sides. "No. Master Wizeman is alive. I… have failed. That must be the case. I could not carry out his command, and therefore do not deserve another chance. This Hell is punishment for my failures."
He gazed out into the terrible emptiness that engulfed him. "But... I tried. I tried," he whispered. "Is that not good enough?" His voice escalated to a scream. "Am I not good enough for you?" He wrapped his arms around his chest. Though Wizeman was not near, his omnipotent presence still hovered over the Nightmaren.
"In a sort of twisted way," the creature began, "I guess this means I am free. Free, and yet trapped in this eternity." He chuckled, floating on his back. "Funny, I'd think that by the way NiGHTS talked about freedom, it would be a happier thing to possess. No longer am I second-hand Nightmare Reala. General of the Nightmaren Army. No, that title will be given to a new creation." He spat in disdain. "I wonder if my Master… no, Master Wizeman will create an entire new series of second-levels. They were likely all destroyed by NiGHTS and her Visitor friends." He gritted his fangs in irritation. "If I never see those annoying pests again, it will be too soon!"
Reala floated in silence for another moment.
And another.
And several more.
"I can't take it!" he snapped. "If I stay still much longer, I'll lose my sanity! Or what sanity I have left," he grumbled. I need to just… calm down. It worked in the past.
He slowed his breathing, slowed his heart beat, slowed his mind. He had to force himself into a meditative state, or go crazy. Last time, he almost had. His lids drooped, and 'sleep' began to wash over him. He had almost completed the shut down, drifting in and out of awareness. When will I awaken? he wondered. A few days? Or will it be decades? You never… know…
Reala yawned, and finally closed his eyes. His posture resembled what he had been like at the start, arms folded neatly across his chest. Time ticked on, slow and monotonous around the lulled nightmaren.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock tick tock.
Tick tock tick tock.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
What is this?
The jester felt something else. Was it… warmth? The slight heat was unmistakable. It made him yearn to wake up, scoot closer. After a few more wishful moments, he realized he didn't have to. The area around him slowly warmed up, sending his heartbeat into wild patterns. So much for that idea…
The temperature continued to rise, going from pleasant to burning. He curled up into the fetal position involuntarily, hands griping the sides of his head. Stop, please, make it stop! He pleaded to an unknown savior with his thoughts. Master Wizeman, please no… Anything, anything else at all… Give me another chance!
"Oh, hoo… Oh, everyone! Come quickly, I say! Hoo!" The heat sent spasms up his spine, causing him to thrash against the unseen restraints that bound him down. His eyes cemented themselves shut, trying to ease the torment. That almost sounded like Owl...
In the back of his head, Reala heard more voices and the sound of little feet running.
"Is he alive?" said a small, whispery voice.
"Well I'm not going to touch him Snuze, if that's what you want." said another.
He also heard a gentle whoosh of air, directly in front of him. He opened his eyes, then shut them again quickly. Too much light.
LIGHT?
Startled, he sat up fast, then immediately regretted that decision. Woah, head rush.
He rubbed his eyes, and blinked them open. He was greeted by a crowd of nervous Nightopians, little fairy creatures, that scattered under his stare.
He reeled, scanning the red desert that replaced the previous blank blackness. The sun glared down upon him from low in the beige sky, and happy screams erupted from a wiry metal coaster in the distance. He dug his claws into the grainy sand, relishing the cool underside of the fine, crushed rock. A tall, purple jested clothed not unlike himself loomed over him. Beside her, a squat owl flapped, his useless dull talons mere centimeters above the sand. He was muttering to himself, "Hoo. Bad idea, I say. Hoo…" Reala returned his weak gaze back to the purple jester. She beamed down at him.
"Welcome back, Rea!"
.:ACT 1 SCENE 1 - FIN:.
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