"I do not own the majority of the characters in this story. Wilford Warfstache and any others belonging to Mark Fischbach are his property alone and are merely used here for fan interpretation and entertainment"
In all of my years as a psychiatrist, I had never seen such a broken man. His head seemed to twist as he sat restless in the chair of my office. Through his rose colored glasses, he seemed to view the world around him as a fallacy. Though he smiled, I sensed the pain growing inside of him as reality desperately scratched from within. Whatever had happened to him that night, it had truly shattered who he once was.
I'd read about him in the papers before. Despite the media uproar about the accidental shooting of a fellow hunter during a safari, the man seemed to have had a steel shield against the criticism. Of course, that man had been injured, not killed. The question of whether or not Warfstache had actually murdered Mark Fischbach is still yet to be uncovered. I agreed, though reluctantly, to work alongside the CPD while they investigated the murder. As far as I knew, nothing else has been uncovered. The manor was locked up tighter than a drum, no one allowed in or out.
In fact, as far as I was aware at that time, everyone involved had gone missing. By the time authorities finally arrived, there wasn't a soul on the grounds except for Warfstache. The staff had disappeared. The other guests were missing. Detective Abraham "Abe" Lincoln P.I., who was a guest the night Fischbach was killed, also disappered. The CPD had branded him as another suspect in the case because of this and have been searching for him since the day that Warfstache was brought in. From what I knew, he was another friend of Fischbach's, and not a direct employee of the Department.
The deeper facts of the case had been locked away from me for the moment. I informed the Chief of Police as soon as I made my initial diagnosis of Warfstache that I would need to know the ins and outs in order to better help him as my patient. If HE didn't open up about what happened, perhaps they could at least shed some light on the subject. Until that time arrived, I was in the dark.
When he first arrived...oh, I'll never forget the laughter. It had cut through the typical sounds of a psychiatric facility like a knife through warm butter. It rang and echoed about the sterile white halls toward my office and woke me up like a bugler at a military camp. I was used to the occasional bout of insane laughter, even the horrifying screams of the insane became background static after a while, but I will never forget that laugh. As the orderlies held on tight to either of the man's arms, he simply hung his head, shaking it back and forth, letting out a deep, belly laugh. It was as if he was having the time of his life.
"It was all a joke!" he'd said. "It was just a big, guffaw!"
I peered around the corner of my office door when I heard it and watched them slowly approach with him. His hair, a tangled, black, wet mass, danced about leaving drops of sweat on the floor below him as he walked. His arms strained in the straight jacket, making the orderlies on either side of him tighten their grip every now and then while still maintaining cold, straight faces. His feet seemed to tangle with one another as he walked, as if they had forgotten how to move forward. When they reached my office, the orderlies stopped and struggled to keep him still. He shook to and fro, breathless from his laughter.
When he finally looked up at me, through the jungle of black hair I got a first glimpse at the eyes of my new patient. They were dark, but sad to me. The chocolate brown rings of his irises seemed to tear as the trauma behind them banged against them. At the same time, I could see the hope in his eyes that all of this madness was exactly what he perceived it to be: a big, sick joke. His thick, black mustache turned up hand in hand with his seemingly permanent smile. His wide grin displayed two rows of straight, well groomed, brilliantly white teeth. That smile swelled and dissipated with each deep breath he took. You'd think the man had done a mile run to get here. Pained though it was, it was such a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a broken man who only wanted everything to sort out. It was almost...pitiful to look at.
"Hello, I am Doctor Miriam Antwood." I greeted him as pleasantly as I could. This was standard for me, I tried my best to seem a friend to my patients. Makes them more comfortable rather than having a stuffy, pompous, authoritative presence when their minds are already fragile. I left THAT to my colleague, Yousef Hillmeyer.
At my introduction, Warfstache straightened up, stifling the spasms in his chest, and gave me a curt bow.
"Colonel William Warfstache. My friends call me 'The Colonel', you are most welcome to do the same."
As he spoke, his voice had a distinct vibrato. It was clear he was attempting to be polite, while also pushing down the inevitable laughing fits. After he introduced himself, he tightened his lips, though the corners jerked upward every now and again as he snorted and snuffed with the giggles.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Colonel."
Of course, I was well aware of who he was before they brought him to me. I always receive empty patient files waiting to be filled whenever I do an intake. The police determine whether or not the person in particular is a candidate for psychiatric care, and once they do, they process them at the station and send their paperwork to us to be processed here. It's all very by the book, standard procedure and all that.
"Do you like jokes, my dear?" Warfstache boomed, leaning forward toward me with a wink. His voice cracked, his throat clearly dry from the constant intake of breath to fuel his manic laughing fits.
"Why, yes. I enjoy a good chuckle every now and again." I replied, smiling back at him.
Warfstache threw his head back, letting out a hearty "HAW! HAW!" that hurt my ears. Then he slowly brought his chin back down, almost to his chest, and rose a brow at me.
"Well, this one's a DOOZY of a lark!"
"I'd like to hear all about it. Please." At this last word, I turned and held a hand out toward the chair adjacent to mine, beckoning him and the orderlies in. I crossed the room to sit and kept a watchful eye on them as they sat him down before me. One of them, the burlier of the two, gave me a knowing look that I returned as he stood behind Warfstache. The other, I dismissed. He seemed harmless enough for the time being. I allowed Phillip, the orderly who stayed behind, to remove his straight jacket. As it came off, he didn't seem to notice at all. Instead, he gave a few soft claps and shook his head, still chortling at this supposed "joke".
"Now, Colonel," I began, preparing my regular lecture that I had memorized down to the very last word for new intakes.
"I don't want you to view me as your doctor, but rather a friend you can open up to. Though, I advise you to remember that there are boundaries to this. As a man of your...considerable stature, I trust you know what I mean by this?"
In reply, he merely smiled. He neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply analyzed me as I spoke. With a nervous cough, I continued on.
"Er..My main goal here is to help you. I understand that the events of the past few days have been taxing, so I hope that nothing I ask you here will feel straining or pressuring on you. If there is anything you do not wish to talk about, we can save it for a later date. Just remember, the walls of this office are sealed tight, everything that we speak of stays within them."
Warfstache turned slightly, side eyeing the orderly behind him. He choked on a laugh for a moment before returning his gaze to me.
"Isn't that a funny joke lad?" He said, his voice rising and declining in volume and tone as he spoke. "It's all a joke you know!"
The orderly raised an eyebrow at me. I held up my hand to him and addressed the concern that I sensed he was attempting to express.
"You needn't worry about him. Phillip is a fine employee at our facility and he knows the rules. He's merely here to see that you're...comfortable."
Rather than indulge me with a simple token of understanding or even a nod, Warfstache instead clenched his mouth shut, turned away, and clamped his eyes closed as he, again, fell prey to a fit of chuckles. Each one sounding like someone slapping a hot water bottle while they stayed confined to his chest.
Regardless, I carried on.
"Now...about this grizzly business at Markiplier Manor..." I moved on with caution as I noticed his eyes open and snap toward me. "Tell me, what is the joke? I would like to know what you find so hilarious. I'm quite curious."
He turned toward me, his eyes crinkling against his wide smile.
"It's a good one." he practically spit, the air of his gales bursting forth as he spoke.
"Please, tell me." I urged, hoping to at least get this little bit of talk out of the way.
"OH, it was a rousing little game. Almost like those you see at All Hallow's Eve parties as of late. Little mystery games, you see." His arms flew about as he spoke, dancing in the air as he made flamboyant hand gestures to match his story.
"Typically, though, EVERYONE is in on it. But my old friend, Damien, he must've had the bright idea to throw a bit of fun at me. Oh, that Damien, he's been such a fine friend all these many years. It's a might childish, but boys will be boys, you know."
As soon as the name 'Damien' left his lips, his seemingly happy demeanor appeared to crack. I hadn't a clue who Damien was at that moment, but whoever it was had obviously been close to him. Perhaps he was one of the guests who had disappeared?
His smile began to falter, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. Even his eyes seemed to droop sadly as he continued on. Through his continuous laughter, I could hear his voice grow more and more pained.
"Celine...Celine as well was in on the guffaw. They must have remembered that ghastly business with the safari...decided to use old Mark's party as the stage for a twisted little go around. I will say, the boy knows how to play dead among other things. Everyone pointed at me. 'He did it!' they all pinned it on me. Even that other chap, can't remember his name, decided to play dead for it all. Did a great job, I must say. Though, that fall must have hurt at least a smidgen. No matter, the boy stood and walked like it was nothing but a school yard scuff!"
"What boy are you referring to?" I asked. "Another guest?"
"Oh, pardon my manners. The District Attorney, yes, he was another guest. Never met him before that night. Must've staged the whole thing with Damien and Celine. He was a good sport, he was. Fake blood and all. Must have used the sauce from the Chef's dinner. It was a hoot...I daresay it could still be going on. This must be a part of it, yes?"
"I'm afraid not, Colonel. Your being sent here is far from a joke." I assured him, but he merely scoffed at me.
"Oh come now!" he mocked. "Slapping me in cuffs, throwing on the old white coat, and dragging me off in a white van to a psychiatric facility? HAW! Old Damien must still be up to his tricks." Suddenly, mid rant, he turned to an empty portion of the room and continued to speak as though to a different person entirely. "Do you hear that? Not a joke. I daresay, perhaps these chaps aren't privy to the whole matter, eh?"
"May I ask who you're speaking to?" I inquired, but my voice seemed to go ignored.
"Bully, bully indeed! This is quite the little ruse. H-here, look!" His eyes scanned my desk at these words, and before I could process what could have been going through his mind, Warfstache lifted my letter opener from my desk and swung it around to bury it between two of Phillip's ribs. I cried out in shock, I did not expect such a rash action.
"I can't kill anyone! See!"
As he held the letter opener against Phillip's side, he continued to let out howls of laughter. He pulled the blade from the poor boy and thrust it in again and again, twice before my cries alerted two other orderlies from the hall.
"It's all fake! Look at it, you'll see! It's all a show!" Warfstache cried as the two orderlies who came rushing in restrained him.
"We need a tranq!" I cried, rushing around my desk to see to Phillip, who now lay in a glistening pool of crimson as it seeped from his wounds.
"I'm fine..." he said, shakily. Holding his hands to his ribs. I removed my coat and pressed it down onto the wounds. I turned to see that both orderlies and Warfstache were now on the floor. His legs kicked forward and back as he became lost in a suddenly saddening fit. I could see the roof of his mouth as his mouth remained agape with his cries. What had moments ago been fits of hilarity suddenly became mournful, gut wrenching sobs.
"WHY?" he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout my office. "WHY DID YOU DO IT, LADS? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?"
Another orderly rushed in from the hall, a large syringe of tranquilizer in his hands. The two holding Warfstache down pushed down harder to keep him still as the needle disappeared beneath his flesh. Suddenly, his cries came to a grinding halt and his body went limp.
"Take him to his room. Make absolutely certain that there is nothing in there he can harm someone with. Keep the straight jacket on him from now on." I ordered. Each of the orderlies nodded as they lifted his now limp, tired body from the floor. His head slumped forward onto his chest, and I could hear a slight whimper as they carried him off, his feet grinding across the floor.
The third orderly helped me get Phillip off of the floor and the both of us proceeded to take him down the hall to our infirmary.
As we exited my dark, dingy office to the bright white lights of the hallway, I turned to watch Warfstache being carted off to the elevators. His body lolled back and forth as the two men beside him struggled to maintain his now dead weight. I could almost hear a soft sob echo from him against the walls as I turned away, focusing on getting this poor man some aid. I thought then that perhaps I now knew what I was in for with him as a patient. If only I knew how wrong I had been then.
The City Psychiatric Facility for the Criminally Insane
FILE #1192012
Patient Name: Col. William "Wilford" Warfstache
Primary Psychologist: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
Secondary: Dr. Yousef Hillmeyer, MD
Patient Intake: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD
First Impression Diagnosis: Patient brought in in a state of hysteria. Laughing maniacally to himself, repeating the same phrase ("It was all a joke") over and over. Possible Borderline Personality Disorder or traumatic onset Psycopathy? Signs of late onset schizophrenia. or possibly Talks to people who aren't there sometimes. Refers to someone named "Damien" a lot during first conversation.
Patient was brought in after authorities scoured Markiplier Manor upon news that Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach had been murdered during a gathering with friends. Attempted to ask William about this, refused to acknowledge. Will further attempt to breech the subject as we proceed. Patient had to be subdued via tranquilizers at the end of first meeting. Attempted to stab an orderly with my letter opener shouting "Look, I can't kill anyone! I'll prove it.". Sign of Antisocial Personality Disorder? Definitive sign of psycopathy. As previously stated, induced by traumatic event.
Patient was taken to room 0628.
Patient Item Inventory: One pair of glasses with attachments, one pair suspenders (red), one pair khakis (tan), one pair boots (black), one button up shirt (yellow, white collar/cuffs), one 44. magnum pistol (siezed by The City Police Department)
Initial Prognosis: Therapy sessions three times per week alongside Fluphenazine (2.5 mg to start every 6-8 hours), Lorazepam (2 mg to start 2 times per day), and Trifluoperazine (3 mg to start, 2 times per day)
These may change as patient progresses or digresses.
Author's Note:
Hello all! Welcome to the first chapter of my Markiplier fan fiction. As you may have guessed, this is post "Who Killed Markiplier?" And this goes off of my theory of what happened. I will, to the best of my ability, keep things Canon in most areas. In others, I'm going to take some creative liberties. BUT regardless, I hope everyone enjoys :) I expect to be pretty frequent with this, if there are times that I'll be absent I'll be sure to let you all know. Thanks for reading!
