Everything was dark.
Twisted fate had not a clue of where he currently was. His vision was in permanent darkness where he couldn't see a thing. The last thing he saw was the image of a few Noxian soldiers kidnapping him, and now he knew he was walking—under the guidance of unknown hands who pushed him from his back. It gave him the chills—God knows where he was heading to, especially in the middle of the night.
He could only hear the sound of footsteps. Nothing else.
Meanwhile, the gypsy was wondering what exactly was the "therapy" session. He had predicted that he would end up being tortured at some point. The question was, how? He would be relieved if he was subjected to a simple beating. But then this was Noxus. Anything can happen, in a very brutal way. Could he even survive the torture?
Hopefully so, because I don't really want my life to end here. Destiny has plans for my life ahead.
He felt someone gripping his shoulder as he was forced to halt. There came sounds of someone knocking on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened (judging by the sound). He staggered a few steps forward when he felt a push at his back. Someone grabbed both of his arms.
"Thank you for bringing him to me. You may leave now."
The voice was…pleasing. It was a male voice, but unlike the rough voices of the Noxians, this one was high-pitched and soft—like a kind man. It soothed his nerves, but then he realized a beautiful voice is always misleading. His experience had taught him well.
What does this man have in mind?
He felt hands on his chest. The hands pushed his backwards, and his back collided with something as hard as a wall. Then he felt something fastening his arms and legs, holding them in place.
What was that?
Suddenly, he was able to see again. The darkness around him disappeared because the bag covering his head was removed.
The gypsy was in a room. It was quite small in size, roughly the size of a typical bedroom. He flinched, though, when he noticed a jack o' lantern replacing a lamp on the ceiling. The carved pumpkin emitted an orange glow that created a creepy atmosphere in the room. There was a small desk as well at the corner.
He looked at himself and realized that he was leaning against a vertical wooden bench. His hands and legs were set in place by metal locks.
Standing in front of him was a skinny man dressed in a red costume. The costume reminded him of a clown—those he had seen in circuses. This one had a particularly unsettling appearance, however—eyeballs were missing from his white eyes, and his teeth were no different to those found in a lion's jaw.
"Hello, my friend! Welcome to the fun house!"
Yet his voice was in sharp contrast to his actual appearance. A soothing voice paired with a demonic look…
"Who the hell are you?"
"Relax, relax, my friend. Why so serious?"
It was true. The clown was nowhere serious. But it was unnecessary for him to be serious—he wasn't tied up on a bench, after all.
"Let me properly introduce myself. I am your therapist for today, and oh boy, how curious I am with your mind! Your brain needs a little bit of fixing, but don't worry, I'll try to make it painless."
Painless? I hope so.
"Make yourself comfortable on your rack. Because what's going to happen next might be…disturbing to you. But don't worry, you will leave in one piece…on condition that you cooperate with me."
He's getting creepier and creepier as he speaks.
"Ah yes, before we begin…you should take this first."
Twisted fate saw the man holding a gas jar full of green gas.
"This is a type of anesthetic. It'll keep your mind stable for anything that will happen later."
He removed the cover and released the gas, exposing it to Twisted fate's nose. The gypsy tried his best to hold his breath, but his oxygen supply was limited. The gas supply, however, seemed unlimited. Eventually, his patience ran out and he succumbed to the gas.
The smell of the gas was hypnotizing, making him light-headed and unaware of his surroundings. The cruel face of the jack o' lantern became blurred to him, and he saw two? Three clown duplicates? What?
How is this possible? What did I breathe in?
"That's my boy. Be good, my friend. Or else the consequences with be unimaginable."
The clown's voice echoed and repeated itself in his mind. The initially calming voice became very, very annoying, and started to irritate him. His face told a different story though—Twisted fate looked very sleepy and worn out on the outside.
The clown then walked over to the desk and picked up a small black box, while his duplicates watched him. (Actually, the gypsy wasn't sure who's the real deal) He opened the cover, revealing its insides to consist of a handful of buttons.
"Now that you are in good condition, let us start our therapy session! Yeah, I know it rhymes perfectly, right? You must have noticed."
His voice is rhythmic as well. Hmph.
"Now, tell me what problems you have encountered recently. Mental ones, if possible."
He felt weird in a way that his mind was dizzy and unsteady but his hearing was perfectly fine—too fine, in fact, because the man's words echoed for more than a hundred times in his ears.
"You look quite confused, right? Don't worry, I'll turn you on first!"
Turn me on? Well, whatever.
Wait, turn me on? The hell? Is he a rapist—
"Gah!"
He felt violent jolts all over his body, severely hurting his skin and nerves. It was a familiar feeling—one he had memory of when electrocuted in the lift back in Zaun.
He was electrocuted by the clown.
Now that is the reason why the clown said "turn me on". I didn't know he meant that literally.
It was unbelievably torturous to endure such pain since electrocution was a completely different story than simple punches and kicks. It was so excruciating that the gypsy shook uncontrollably like a lunatic, losing control of his own body. Heck, he would rather be kicked straight in the balls than to go through this suffering.
Contrary to the previous one, however, this one went on for a steady 10 seconds with the same voltage—the one before lasted for a little bit more than a second. But eventually, the electrocution stopped as he could no longer feel the jolts in his veins, though the pain persisted.
The clown's duplicates merged back to the original's body, grinning at the sight of him. Meanwhile, the gypsy's clothing was partially gone in smoke and his whole body became numb. His heartbeat became irregular, something he could feel, and it was no good news—any second that heartbeat could be gone, and so would the fragile life of his. The only thing he could do was to pray that the clown wouldn't go too far.
"Are you awake now, patient?"
"Y…e…s."
He could barely mumble the words.
"Your head is, in fact, a bit out of place. Perhaps I should help you readjust its position."
Readjust? That sounds creepy. Probably that clown made it up.
The man stood in front of the gypsy, placing his hands on his cheeks, then sliding all the way to his neck. It was then did Twisted fate notice that he wore gloves. The thing was, having someone else's hands on your neck was usually not a good sign.
"Let's count to three. One, two, three…SNAP!"
Twisted fate yelled simultaneously. Not only did the clown just count, but he managed to twist his neck with some force. Now his neck was in pain, and he found it agonizing to move his neck—but if he made no movement the initial pain would persist. His suffering was inescapable at this point.
"Now you look handsome, Twisted fate. Your head's in the right place!" cheered the man, who clapped his hands and looked satisfied with what he had done.
This man's a real lunatic. He shows no remorse in his eyes! Oh wait, he's got blank eyes anyway…but still proves he isn't a regular human. But if he's no human…then who is he?
"Let me see…now I need to cure your nerve system. It reacts too slowly, as I see. You know what reaction speed is normal?"
Before the gypsy knew it, the clown delivered a swift punch to his face. His fist collided with his nose with full force, wounding his nose, and led to the bleeding of his nostrils.
"A normal person would be able to dodge. Or better, block it with his own hands."
Dude. I can't even move my head and hands. How am I supposed to dodge? He's obviously talking about nonsense.
"You're…sadistic."
The clown was inspecting his gloves when Twisted fate spoke. He looked up and stared at him attentively.
"Pardon me, my patient? I did not hear clearly."
Twisted fate was further enraged by his reply.
"YOU'RE…SADISTIC!"
He tried to shout, but his throat was injured by the electrocution and all he could do was muster words one by one. His voice was significantly lowered as well—so soft that it was barely louder than a whisper, despite his efforts to shout instead.
"Sadistic? You call me, a successful therapist, sadistic?"
The man's grin faded, which cheered up the gypsy instead. Deterring his smile was perhaps a way to distract him from his work, for every time the man unleashed his tortuous methods was when he was grinning.
"Yes…you're…sadistic."
The clown's smile went upside down to a frown. Twisted fate had never seen his frowns before—perhaps this was progress to free himself out of the clutches of this madman.
"I've made so many people smile…and you call me sadistic. You've…broken my heart. You make me cry instead of smile…"
Good. No one wants to see you smile anyway.
Just when the Card Master thought he was successful, he was proved wrong. For the clown's frown reversed back to a smile, and in only a matter of seconds he was happy once again—on the outside, that is.
"You have no idea how happy they are at the end. My patients—they called me sadistic in the beginning. But as they embraced my ways, they found that I was far from sadistic. I am a bringer of happiness! All of them ate their words, and so will you, Twisted fate. Allow me to give you a proper demonstration."
The man placed his fingers right under the gypsy's nose, on the blood trail. He stained his finger with blood, then drew two curved lines extended from the corner of his mouth. Twisted fate could work out that the clown had drawn a bloodied smile on his face.
"You're smiling now, see? You're happy."
Damn, he really is sadistic. He's either lying or that he can't see through his madness.
"Now, I will help you restore your reaction speed."
The clown went to the desk again and pulled out a small red box from its drawer. He returned to the gypsy and grinned yet again.
"What do you see?"
Well, all I can see is a box. Nothing else.
"That's…a…box."
"That's partially correct."
The box's cover popped off, and out sprung a figure—shaped like the clown's head—which caught Twisted fate out of surprise. It was mere inches away from his face as it popped out fully, and it had fully achieved its goal—to scare him out of his wits. His sound was broken and yet he screamed again at the top of his voice, across the whole room, and his body movements ceased completely as if he was frozen out of fear.
"I call it the 'jack-in-the-box'. As the name suggests, it contains a minimized version of myself. But look at it closely! It resembles me so well that I can call it my double! You know, I crafted my little boy all by myself. You like it?"
Not in the slightest.
"No."
The clown frowned yet again.
"Really? You don't like it?"
He shook his head in dismay.
"I can't believe you didn't like it. Don't worry though, if you don't like it then I'll show you another one."
He returned to the desk, put down the box, and took out another one from the drawer. Then he returned to him. This box was identical to the first one, with the same size and appearance. What could be different?
This time, I will be prepared. That little clown in the box won't jump-scare me again.
"Here's my next present. I'll make sure you'll love it."
Twisted fate set his eyes on the box. The lid, in particular. Any second the lid will pop off and a clown-like figure would spring out. But he was prepared this time—no matter how scary it would look or how fast it would pounce, he would not be affected in any way. The gypsy was confident.
Not this time, freak.
The man was still holding the box, which had remained in place. The lid did not pop off.
Yet.
"Tell me, Twisted fate. Do you know what happens when a heart pumps too quickly? I'm talking about the one under your chest, beating for the sake of your survival."
That's a tough question.
He knew what would happen when a heart pumped too slowly. But too quickly? He had never seen that before. In addition, this question was utterly unrelated to his current situation.
Or maybe he is hinting that I will be scared to death.
"You…will…fail…to scare…me."
His throat still wasn't quite well. Meanwhile, the clown's grin widened upon hearing what he had said.
"Maybe I won't. But I am not the one to scare you."
It was at this very moment did the lid pop off and the figure inside sprung out. Twisted fate saw it—and expected it. He stiffened his face, eager to preventing himself from shock.
If the figure that pounced out was yet another clown figure, he would not have screamed. But what he did not expect was the figure to be an eight-legged creature, attaching to his face upon being sprung. It was as large as the size of his face, so Twisted fate could easily see the hairy abdomen of the creature right in front of his eyes.
The gypsy had vowed not to scream. But his instincts took over when the realization dawned on him that it was a living spider standing on top of his face.
"HELP! SPIDER!"
The sounds of Twisted fate's desperate shrieks were so loud even his own ears couldn't withstand. His hands struggled in the metal chains violently, and his face turned so white it seemed he had run out of blood. He was shaking his face as well to fend off the spider, but to no avail. Its legs stuck to his face like glue.
The clown laughed yet again upon seeing the gypsy's reaction.
"I heard you are afraid of spiders. Well, this is a tarantula found in the Kumungu jungle. It has some really spectacular poison, but I mutated the spider so that now one bite from it can increase your heart rate by more than 50%. Two bites, and your heart will beat twice as fast as it will now."
The tarantula—black in colour—displayed its two white fangs, which hovered just above his eyes. Any movement from him, and it might result in permanent blindness.
No no no…please, no. Anywhere but the eye. No, please—
The spider raised its fangs, ready to sink it into his eyes. Twisted fate then shut his eyelids in fear.
Seconds later his felt sharp pain on his face. Not his eyes, fortunately, but on his eyebrows. He looked up and saw the white fangs sunk right above his eyes. Unfortunately, he screamed again.
"The effects will kick in in only a matter of seconds, I predict. Soon your heart rate will speed up and you will experience something unprecedented to your body."
As the man spoke Twisted fate noticed his vision turning red. Everything he saw, including the spider's abdomen, the room, the jack o'lantern, the clown…all emitted the colour of blood.
"If you can see what your eyes look like, you'll be astonished. Yes, it's beautifully red."
Twisted fate then felt his nose…bleeding. Not only the nose, however, but his ears as well. The drops of blood landed on the floor beneath his feet. Yet the only thing that he could hear in his mind were his own rapid heartbeats, like a drum. Like the clown said, this was something he had never experienced before. And it felt horrible.
The clown laughed once again, displaying his snow-white teeth.
"You like it, Twisted fate? A completely refreshing feeling."
The gypsy wanted to retaliate, but found himself unable to speak as he coughed blood instead. But if there's one thing he couldn't take his eyes off, it was the dreaded spider.
The tarantula wasted no time and crawled away from his face to his hair. It stood on his head and made no further movement.
"Now," said the clown as he slowly drew out a knife from his pocket, "let me perform a little surgery on you."
"Surgery?"
"Yes. I'll try to make it painless."
Then without another word he plunged the knife into his stomach, which made Twisted fate give an anguished cry.
"Oh sorry, did I injure you? My bad, my bad."
His sound did make him sound apologetic, but he couldn't have accidentally stabbed him. In addition, the knife was still deep in his flesh. The clown had no intention to pull it out.
"But I wonder what will happen if the knife…cuts downwards."
The knife slid down his stomach, cutting out a knife-sized flesh wound. Twisted fate could only watch helplessly as the clown carved out a red "smile". Blood fell like in a waterfall, and there was already a mini blood pool beneath his feet. The scene was gruesome and horrendous—Twisted fate already had nausea as he kept watching his poor body.
"Vladimir would have enjoyed this," remarked the clown.
At last, he told himself that he could no longer take it.
"Please…just kill me. I can stand this no more."
"Whoa! You misunderstood! I had no intention to kill you!" replied the clown. "I'm just fulfilling my job as a therapist—to treat your terminal mental illness!"
"Me? You are the one with mental—OOMPH!"
He coughed out blood again, just as his mind started to fade. He realized that his blood had finally run out and that his life was about to come to an end.
Well, I wonder why Destiny hasn't helped me a hand.
He closed his eyes for one last hope that something would happen. Anything would do—the clown stabbing himself for no reason, Vayne and Lucian breaking into the room, he himself suddenly getting regeneration powers…but these ain't gonna happen.
Wait. Why am I able to think straight again?
It was then did he realize that he was very much alive. The pain was gone. He felt good, for he could feel that the spider on his head had disappeared.
Am I…reborn?
Carefully he loosened his eyelids and allowed his eyes to see again. It was the same room with the jack o' lantern at the ceiling and the desk at the corner. The clown himself leaned against the wall in a distance, no longer holding a knife. He was staring at a box he was holding.
He looked down and saw himself—unscathed. He couldn't feel the tarantula's legs crawling on his head, nor did he feel the pain resulting from his stomach's wound, because there was no wound at all. It had vanished without a trace.
This…this must be the work of Destiny.
He was overjoyed. But at the same time, he was confused.
"Why…why am I uninjured? I was…I was stabbed in the stomach…"
Even his throat was all right. He could speak normally, unlike seconds ago.
The clown turned his attention to the gypsy.
"Oh, you think everything that just happened was all real?"
"Wait…wasn't it real?"
The clown laughed. But this time it wasn't nearly as scary, for there were no longer echoes in his mind. It was just a plain, simple laugh, though retaining its creepiness.
"It was all just an illusion. An illusion that originates from the green gas."
"Green gas?"
"Don't you remember? You breathed in a green gas from a jar."
The memory returned to Twisted fate's mind as the man spoke.
"Yes. I did."
"That gas…is my latest creation. No need to explain the details, just that it makes someone...very excited. Like you, just now. You were screaming and yelling in joy, begging for more. Too bad what you see and feel only exists in the virtual world—something that I cannot witness. But I am confident that you had a great time with me."
Suddenly Noxian soldiers intruded the room from the door, holding a bag, which they had used to cover his head when he was brought to this room. His vision returned to darkness as the men forced the bag on his head.
"But you are lucky, Twisted fate. Your therapist session ended early because of one person," the clown continued.
"Who?"
How can someone choose to save me here?
"Agent 87 has, unfortunately, strict orders of not to harm you."
"You didn't scream at all."
It was the first thing that Twisted fate heard when his bag was removed. A Noxian stood before him, holding the black bag. They were in the Card Master's own cell.
"I'm actually surprised that you didn't go insane."
"Almost did. But alas, I am quite a strong-willed person."
"You? A strong-willed person?" The guard chuckled in response. Twisted fate almost laughed as well for his lie.
"But you did survive his therapy session. I cannot deny that. You earned my respect—by a little. Now stay in your cell."
Before Twisted fate could ask anything else the guard left the cell. To his surprise, he went left instead of right.
Why wasn't he heading for the exit?
His question as automatically answered when he heard shouting, which he recognized to be Jarvan's. He saw Jarvan walking out of the cell with his head covered by a bag. The gypsy knew what lied in store for the prince, but what could he do? Warning Jarvan in front of the guards would not only further endanger Jarvan, but himself as well.
As he heard the jail door close, he sat down and sighed in relief. The torture—one he had dreaded since he was forced out of his cell—had finally ended.
It was out of his expectations. For one, he was physically unharmed during the entire session. The wounds inflicted in the room, like the tarantula's bite and the clown's knife wound in his stomach, were gone without a trace. Despite him believing the clown's words that it was all an illusion, he was perplexed to why it all felt so real. The pain was definitely real.
He felt alright now. It was probably another relief that he could rest in peace here—at least for this night.
Glad there are no side effects for that. I only want to experience that once. Never again.
But if the goal of the entire torture was to cripple someone mentally, it was successful. From now on, Twisted fate would have a bad history with clowns, other than spiders.
Suddenly, he heard the opening of the jail door.
Who's that? Is that something's going to happen to me again?
The door was closed. Obviously, someone else was in the jail. Twisted fate waited for someone to show up, but it was silent with no footsteps.
Did a ghost open the door? Or is it—
"Hello! My friend!"
To his horror, standing behind the bars was the clown yet again. He was there with the infamous grin on his face.
"Glad to see you again!"
"No!"
Twisted fate backed off. He noticed the metal handcuffs still on his hands, and thus he wouldn't be able to do anything if he entered.
"Why are you here? You said the session's done!"
"Oh yes, it might be done. But it doesn't mean that I can't have more fun."
Even worse, the clown took out a set of keys. He inserted the key into the keyhole and to the gypsy's surprise, opened the cell door.
"No…this can't happen. No."
"Yes, this is happening. Yes."
Twisted fate was trembling with fear. The memories of his pain in the room returned to his mind, and he feared that he would experience them all again.
As the clown approached him, he decided to take his chances. Twisted fate launched a kick towards the clown, hoping he would somehow hit and knock out the clown by chance.
But the clown firmly grabbed his leg with his own hand. Then for some reason, he let go of his leg.
Twisted fate's leg hovered in the air while he himself was trying to comprehend why the clown chose to simply release his leg. It was rather awkward.
"What am I doing? Why did I let go of you?" asked the clown. His grin was gone, replaced by a confused look. Meanwhile, the gypsy was confused as well.
Then the clown said something weirder.
"Blink your eyes."
"What?"
"Blink your eyes. Rapidly for a few seconds."
Twisted fate was even more confused, but he did so nevertheless. But after blinking a few times the clown's image has changed. He was replaced by another man, a muscular, bare-chested man.
"You're in shock."
It was the man who had allegedly saved him from the clown's therapy.
"You're…you're Agent 87."
"It's good that you recognized me. I thought you would be brain-dead after Shaco's treatment."
"Shaco?"
"The clown guy you met just now. Joined the Noxian ranks many years ago, though no one knew his true identity or origin. Never fought in battle, but deals exclusively with prisoners of war. Torments them to the point that they tear themselves apart with their bare hands. Most mystifying of all is the fact that he smiles all the time, even when he is killing someone cold-blooded. He rejoices when watching his victims do horrible things. A creature of the Void, as some presume. But he's definitely mysterious."
Twisted fate was surprised not just because the Agent knew so much about Shaco, but because of how he managed to appear in front of him when he was Shaco himself a few seconds ago."
"I saw you as…someone else. You were Shaco."
"I understand. You are experiencing the after-effects of his gas. I call it the "Nightmare Gas" because its victims always experience visions of their demise through their own nightmares. They see illusions that they perceive to be true. And it's easy to think that's it's genuine because you feel besides seeing. Especially pain. It's hard to perceive pain as an illusion."
"How can real pain happen in virtual nightmares?"
"Again, Shaco's origins are mysterious. So is his own weapons."
"Why tell me all of this?"
"You apparently do not understand why I decided to save you in the temple. From that fall."
"Wait, what?"
"I could have left you to your fall. You will survive, but your body will suffer serious bone fractures and brain injury. I prevented you from becoming paralysed, because of one simple thing."
Twisted fate wasn't quite sure whether what he said was true. On the contrary, he was certain that he wouldn't suffer such injuries from that fall because he would end up being dead already. Though he was curious of why exactly Agent 87 displayed such compassion.
"Which is?"
"I am no Noxian. I'm here because I managed to sneak into the Noxian military years ago and act as a spy. I figured out they had a grand scheme that might threaten the safety of this land, but I need help to defeat them. I want to make a deal with you."
A deal? Interesting.
A gamble was something he would treasure in such a desperate situation. He would take any chances to free himself from the clutches of Noxus.
"What is your deal, Agent 87?"
"I can help you get out of here—if you help me do something."
"Ok. What should I do?"
"I shall tell you the details tomorrow. Not now, because the gas hinders your memory significantly—but it usually wears off after some sleep. Which is something you need now."
"Agreed."
"Prepare for the trials of tomorrow. Tomorrow will not be an easy day for you."
"Ok."
Agent 87 then left the cell and closed the door.
"Wait, Agent 87."
He turned to face him.
"Do you have a real name?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"You don't need to know my real name at this stage."
Author's note:
Well, that torture could have gone far more awry if it wasn't for the T rating. (Seriously, that scene has a lot of potential as it's fundamentally virtual.) Luckily, Agent 87 interfered and prevented Twisted fate from going insane.
Frankly speaking, psychological torture is undoubtedly more consequential and devastating to a person, at least for me.
By the way, I shall inform you that this story will end at Chapter 30. (It might not come as a surprise, since we can already feel the ending is near.) Anyway, kudos to all of you who have read this far into the story, and even more kudos to those who have reviewed/favorited/followed this story. Your very presence is the driving force for me to continue writing this.