Shortly after I finished Scorpiofreak's "Winter Wonderland," my imagination was besieged by ideas for the unique universe that she has created. One of those was Lyssa, the Spirit of Insanity. She's perhaps one of the most evil OCs ever created, and I'm about to unleash her upon the Guardians, and especially Alice. Her character bio is "Immortal Madness," if you wish to know her full story.
This is basically an AU/sequel for "Winter Wonderland." The point of divergence takes place in Chapter 33 during North's New Year's Eve Party. It could be considered to be part of the original universe, but I'll keep it separate unless Scorpiofreak wants it otherwise.
The Cheshire Cat is right about one thing: We're all mad here. I am because I'm starting this while in the middle of another well-thought out story!Well, I hope that you all enjoy the prologue to "Hysteria Unbound."
Hysteria Unbound
Prologue
Deep within the Rocky Mountains of the North American continent, isolated and untouched by humankind, there is a cave. Desolate and dark against the elements, unnatural in every sense of the word. It stretches long and deep into the core of the mountain, like a wound to the heart of a gigantic beast. Few animals dared to go that far into it. Not even bats cared for a cave that was darker than night.
There was something out of place with it though. Not too far from the entrance, a bedframe straddled a hole in the ground. The frame looked like it was decades old with its cracked and weathered wood. The hole wasn't large, but it made up for this by being more dark and sinister than the cave where it had appeared. It didn't appear to have a bottom, and there was something very foreboding about it. It seemed to speak of things dark and ancient.
A bitter storm raged against the mountainside, the blistering snow casting a white blanket across the jagged rocks below. The solemn moans of the wind sending even the fiercest of animals to their dens, heeding the warnings of ill will.
No one should have been there at all, but the figure standing against the icy maelstrom, wrapped in a poorly chosen doctor's coat, did not heed the malevolence that permeated the space.
Once the figure was in the cave and out of the wind, it spoke. "Curse that boogeyman. He should know by now that dark and cold don't go together all the time. I thought I was obsessive about where I made my hideouts. He couldn't have found a new place in the Caribbean?"
The speaker was revealed to be a tall woman with Roman features. She had the olive complexion, the light blond hair, the blue eyes, and the trademark nose. She most certainly wasn't dressed for a blizzard; slacks, a blue blouse, and a pair of nice shoes made up her attire along with the lab coat.
There was an air of calm professionalism about her, like that of a psychiatrist or doctor, in the way she examined the decrepit bed frame through her spectacles. "I wonder if it's his lair that moves around, or if it's just the entrance. That would be a good diversion tactic." She carefully stepped through the wooden slats of the bed and lowered herself down the hole. She made her way down slowly by pressing her back against the tunnel's wall and using her hands and legs to navigate.
As soon as she was enveloped by the shadows, the woman suddenly felt the tunnel vanish and she was standing in an open, dark area. Oddly, she didn't seem fazed,, and she continued forward. In a moment, faint beams of light began to filter through, revealing a large, strange chamber.
It seemed to take on a rounded shape, though it was impossible to tell with the shadows. Here and there, small rays of light shown through windows in ceiling, making it possible to see anything. Interconnecting the space was a series of walkways and staircases, none of which seemed to follow any form of order.
The woman appeared to be specially intrigued by these. She became so involved in following their twisty routes that she almost didn't see the creature standing in her way.
It was a bizarre-looking horse of sorts. Its skin was a pure, sparkly black with a sandy consistency about it. Small streamers of black sand lifted out of its back like long flags. Its eyes were like burning, hot coals in his head, glaring out at her as it breathed heavily in and out. It looked like it was ready to charge and trample her.
She smiled at the aggressive creature and walked forward slowly. It was surprised by her reaction and drew itself up, staring at her. She slowed her gait even more and began to coo to it gently. The horse made odd whinnying noises as she came closer. She held up a hand to its nose and just stood there.
The horse from a bad dream blinked and then rested its nuzzle on her outstretched palm. She brought up her other hand and stroked the side of its head. She continued that for a moment and then whispered to it, "Tell your master he has a visitor."
The equine removed its nuzzle from her hand and galloped off into the darkness. The woman began to lose herself amongst the chaos of the intersecting bridges and arches until it came back. The horse positioned itself off to one side of a particularly dark entrance and cocked its head towards it.
The woman gave the creature a brief smile and then continued. The dark soon gave way to what looked like a ruined throne room. The large pieces and chunks of stone work that littered the floor had been arranged to resemble a small flight of stairs leading up to what looked like throne of mismatched rocks.
The throne was occupied by none other than Pitch Black, the Boogeyman. Centuries ago, the Nightmare King had ruled unchallenged during the time of the Middle Ages. He made children afraid of everything unknown in the world, and that fear had bled over into adulthood long after he was done with them. This had been stopped by the Guardians, driving Pitch back into the shadows and under beds. He had made a comeback about three years earlier with his horses, the Nightmares, made of corrupted dreamsand. A few months ago, he and someone called the "Dollmaker" had upgraded the Nightmares into "Night Ruins." The Guardians had stopped him both times and here he was in his lair, sulking.
The woman smiled pleasantly and asked said, "My, my, Pitch. Have you taken up boxing by any chance?" The Boogeyman sported a faint bruise on the side of his head and his nose was slightly crooked.
Pitch glared at her with his yellow eyes. "No, I haven't. Lyssa, we both know the only type of scars you're interested in are the mental ones, and while I do sport a few of those, we both know you're not here about that." He steepled his hands together and looked at her expectantly. "What does the Spirit of Insanity want here?"
The woman, Lyssa, shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "You know me and my ways, Mr. Black. After all…." She suddenly smiled the smile of a demented serial killer, destroying in an instant the calm façade she had maintained. "What's more maddening than adopting the mannerisms of your greatest adversaries and teachers?" Her face returned to its original serene expression and she took a seat on a square rock that faced the throne. "Care to tell me the cause of your hostility?"
She was Lyssa, the Spirit of Insanity, the being that delighted in all forms of madness and mental illness. Her powers consisted of being able to sense those inflicted with diseases of the mind, along with many others. Her most frightening ability was being able to reach into the minds of the unstable and pressuring them into finally snapping. Most of the other spirits of the world stayed away from her. She didn't have many acquaintances, and only one that she would call "friend." It made sense that fear and madness would be allies.
Pitch looked at her for a moment and then groaned in surrender. "Oh alright. It wouldn't hurt, and I could use a psychiatrist for once." He leaned back in his glorified rock-heap and looked up at the ceiling. Lyssa took out a notebook and pen and nodded for him to begin. Clasping his hands over his stomach, he began his story.
"I'm frustrated. Only a few short centuries ago I was believed in and feared by all the children of the world. In every culture, children feared the figure in the shadows, the Boogeyman, the Nightmare King. They feared the night, with its darkness and shadows. They would grow up, and pass their fear to their children even though they no longer believed in my existence. They still didn't like the dark though."
He smiled in nostalgia. Lyssa nodded and continued writing. "And then?" she asked.
Pitch's smile turned into a frown real quick. "Then the Man in the Moon saw fit to bring the Guardians together. They destroyed my power through hope, wonder, dreams, and memory, leaving me weak enough to be fought physically. I became nothing more than a joke amongst children. 'There's no such thing as the Boogeyman.'" He glared up at the ceiling, his tone high and mocking.
"I tried for centuries to make them fear me again, but nothing worked. Then I found her." He looked over at Lyssa. "You know who I mean. Alice Liddell."
Lyssa nodded. "I remember. Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum: Home of Wayward and Lost Souls. Post-traumatic stress disorder with a large dose of survivor's guilt. Admitted in 1864, stayed there until 1874. Currently a spirit and the Guardian of Imagination."
Pitch sneered at that last bit. "Yes, all that potential, and she's wasting it protecting children. I saw two things in her when we came across her at your old home: hope and inspiration. She was so full of wonder and dreams, and look what became of that; a dreamworld, her Wonderland, turned into a breeding ground of nightmares and fear. I thought to myself, 'if a single child can go off like this without any help from me or you, what's to stop me from regaining my rightful place?'
"As to inspiration, well, you saw her nightmares. If I could somehow take the beautifully terrifying figments of her twisted imagination and transplant them into the dreams of other children, then my return would be assured.
"I began to concentrate on learning the hows and whys of the human imagination and especially their dreams. I started learning how to enter the imagination of any child and learning their darkest fear. Even so, that would be useless to me unless I could bring that fear to overtake their dreams. Then I hit upon it. The Sandman's dreamsand.
"For almost a century, I learned how to invade the dreamworld of anyone, and how to coax out the dreamsand's true potential, the Nightmare. Once it was ready, I struck. In a matter of days, I had the Guardians on their knees and only one child left in the world that believed in them. But could I be allowed to reclaim my throne? NO. The Man in the Moon saw it fit to choose that troublemaking fool, Jack Frost, as a new Guardian. Without that interfering misfit, I would have won there and then."
Pitch stopped to take a breath after his rant. Lyssa stopped scribbling on her notepad and looked up at him. "That must have been vexing to you."
Pitch snorted. "You have no idea. It took me two years to regain control over my Nightmares. That's incredibly annoying by the way," he added, "that way you got that Nightmare to obey you like that."
Lyssa shrugged. "I have my ways. Please continue."
Pitch looked back up at the ceiling and sighed. "Two years later, and the Man in the Moon chooses another Guardian, Alice Liddell. I remembered her and her warped dreams and I thought it would be a good idea to take a look into her imagination and see if I could find anything to help me. I did, the Dollmaker. Never have I found a more distorted character than him. He offered to me help me destroy the Guardians, by making the children fear them. We were alike in so many ways except for two things: He was so impatient and he was so fixated upon Alice. When he kidnapped that arrogant hairball of a pooka, all he did was to inflame the ire of the Guardians and Alice."
"That explains your injuries," mused Lyssa. "Tell me, was that all of them, or just Alice?"
"It was all Alice, then she went into my mind and discovered where the Dollmaker was and where he was keeping the Easter Bunny. The fool fell by her hand, and I can't really say I miss him. Just the Night Ruins.
"For centuries now, I've worked so hard and now I've been defeated two times in as many years. Now there are six Guardians instead of four and they've all got a reason to hate me. You'll excuse me if I'm a bit out of sorts." He straightened back up, signaling that he was done.
Lyssa set her pen down and began going over her notes. After a few minutes, she looked up. "Your strategy of going after the source of their power was quite brilliant, Pitch. There were two problems with it though. By going after the children, you only served to anger them, much the same as if you tried to take the cubs of a grizzly bear. You also didn't count on MiM's newest choices in Guardians. Going directly after the children only made him choose Frost, and Liddell is quite the powerful girl if I hear correctly."
"She is," snapped the Boogeyman. "What do you think I should do? Confront the Guardians directly? Because that won't work, not since they're currently some of the most formidable spirits in the world with all that belief pouring into them."
Lyssa was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly, "No, no. You shouldn't, because I plan to."
Pitch stared at her for a moment, than burst out in a howl of laughter. Lyssa gave him a deadpan expression as he cackled.
"You," he gasped out at last. "Why would you go after the Guardians? Have you completely lost your mind?"
"I lost it nearly two millennium ago," answered Lyssa coolly. "And I'm not targeting the Guardians as a whole. Just Alice."
Pitch finished catching his breath and gave her an odd look. "And what is your concern with Liddell? She's quite sane now, unfortunately."
"Not as much as you think," Lyssa retorted. "When I was at the New Year's Eve Party last night I came across two things. The first was a scent, which I located off both the bottom floor of the workshop and off of Liddell herself. Hysteria, pure, raw hysteria. The type that comes off of those that first lose all hope and then all rational thought, turning them into a raging, rabid animal."
She had his attention now. "I also saw one of her creations, the Cheshire Cat. And he looked absolutely nothing like that pink-and-purple abomination that that imbecile Disney came up with. No Pitch," Lyssa smiled crookedly. "She is vulnerable mentally, and I intend to exploit that.
"Imagine it," she flung her arm out suddenly, nearly making Pitch jump. "A spirit with her power, driven mad to a permanent hysterical state, set loose upon the immortal and mortal worlds. A few people, including children, find Carroll's stories to be disturbing enough that they might be able to see her in her maddened state. Imagine," she lowered her voice, "the fear she could inspire in both spirits and mortals."
Pitch sat back in his chair and considered it for a moment. Then he asked, "What do you need me for? You wouldn't have come here if you didn't think you needed my help."
Lyssa smirked at him. "When you have found the thing that a man fears most, you will have discovered the key to his madness." As Pitch nodded in acknowledgment, she added, "That quote is from Stonehearst Asylum, one of my favorite movies. You know Pitch, you should honestly go to the movie theaters every once in a while. The horror movies these days would both entertain you and give you inspiration. I know they do for me."
"I'll consider it," Pitch answered. "Besides taking Alice out of the equation, how would this hurt the other Guardians?"
"Because they're targets now," Lyssa answered. "If I had had any idea of Alice's madness a few months ago, I wouldn't have to bother with them. Everyone has anchors: Things, places, people, and ideas that keep their mind from fragmenting into insanity, that help them to stay sane in the face of reality.
"Alice's anchors now include the Guardians, along with Wonderland and its inhabitants. If I can use her fear against her, and find a way to destroy her anchors, she'll lose it again and this time," Lyssa grinned wickedly and a shiver-inducing gleam appeared in her eyes, "she'll never come back."
Pitch slowly smiled as well and sat up straight. "I'll tell you what she fears. I'll tell you everything about her and about them. Just make sure they suffer." His yellow eyes danced with frightful glee as he thought about Lyssa's plan.
Lyssa continued to smile as Pitch began talking. 'Let the madness begin!'
I hope Lyssa gave you all chills. This prologue is meant to see what others think about the idea: An insane psychiatrist/spirit is out to drive our heroine Alice mad once again. As if the Dollmaker wasn't enough. By the time I'm done, you'll either want to strangle me or Lyssa. Terrible things are in store for Alice and the Guardians.
If you liked the prologue and the idea, please write a review or send me a PM. I want to know what my readers think of this and I like reviews. Also, if this is well-received, I'll write on it whenever inspiration comes to me and when I can. I'm currently in college, and my classes and studies will have to come first (darn).
BTW, Scorpiofreak told me that she thinks that "Immortal Madness" would make a better prologue than this because it introduces Lyssa. I personally want to keep all of my ROTG/AMR OCs as oneshots, but if you agree with her, please let me know. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little escapade into the Heart of Darkness and Insanity. Happy reading and writing!