Dread loomed over the blonde menace as he begrudgingly made his way toward the village on foot. He didn't want to go. If this place was indeed made up of his and his husband's memories, Alois knew that nothing good was waiting for him there. Even this road was unappealing, as he knew that junior highwaymen prowled it. The reason he did was because he was one of them. He mugged women and the elderly so that he and his brother could survive. In the end, neither of them did, but fortunately, the Mackens are either terrible at staying dead, or very proficient at staying alive.
If only his memories would die. Alois loved life. The way things are now, he wouldn't give it up for the world. What made him into the person he is, however—the events that would eventually mold him into a proficient thief, conman, and killer with emotional stability that was somewhat questionable at times are things that he would like to stay in the past. And yet here he is, en route to the village of Arachnophobia.
It looked as though it were still standing, which was more than he could say for the last time he saw it. From what he could see, he couldn't tell if there was anyone actually in it, yet. He thought he saw vague figures, but it sincerely could have been his imagination. All Alois really wanted to do was find the next door to lead him out of there. Hopefully, there were better places in store. Alas, it wasn't the time.
With a huff, he put up his collar before shoving his hands in the pockets of his husband's coat. The scent of his spouse still on it helped quell his unrest, even if it was only a little bit. It helped him reaffirm that his life as still "real" in a sense while reality was falling apart and rearranging itself around him. He wanted nothing more than to go home with the bluenette and relax, so he hoped that this would be over soon.
There was hesitance as he reached the sign that sat outside the village, unable to bring himself to set foot across its border right away. The expression on his face was quietly sombre. His visage was blank aside from the subtle sadness that graced his features. It was painful and his breath felt heavy. He was worried not about the village itself, but of the agonizing images that he might recall once he moves forward into the past.
Even now, his emotions were swirling around inside of him just seeing the inside of the village. There were people he swore he recognised at some point, even if he couldn't remember their names. They merely scurried about and went about their day. None of them even seemed to notice Alois, and that was in truth the way that he would like to keep it. Unfotunately for him, he needed to press on and take his first step inside the village.
His stomach dropped as the scenery suddenly changed with his foot hitting the ground inside the border. The sky grew dark with only the light of the moon overhead to light the way, and night gripped over the village. Only a handful of the houses had lights on in the windows. They were oil lamps, no doubt. The worst realization, however, was the appearances of the villagers. Now they hobbled and trudged about the area aimlessly like ghouls. Perhaps they were ghouls. Alois didn't want to find out, but he could no longer turn back. Thus, he took the next step into the village, and the next, and the next.
"Fuuuuuccckk!" he grimaced, trying to search the place without being seen. How on earth was he going to find the way out?
Alois did a strange walking-while-crouching movement in order to remain undetected, ducking behind buildings and taking the long way around when he was getting close to the creatures. Once he was able to really observe them, he came to the conclusion that they were not human, nor were they any civil supernatural. Ghouls. Ghouls who wander aimlessly and attack the living with the intent to devour their flesh. Alois didn't want to engage, but the thought that emptying the village would make it easier to explore it. It wasn't a viable option, but Alois figured that it was acceptable to dream.
Peeking into the windows of a house, he snooped around to see if anyone was hiding inside. He could see again, so the contents of the dark house were still visible to him. After deciding that the premise was reasonably empty, he made his way around to the back door. Since it was unlocked, he simply tip-toed inside, worried about the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet.
No one was in his immediate field of vision, so he assumed that it was safe. Alois wasn't necessarily afraid of engaging in combat with a single or handful of ghouls, however. What he was afraid of was the noise attracting the entire village. The man crept through the door and into the next room, opening door after door until he decided that the one he was looking for wasn't in this house.
His next decision was a mistake. Coming out the way he came in was no longer an option, as he heard the door open. Quickly, he ducked down into the shadows, watching out for any figures creeping about and recalculating his next action.
There was no time. The villager stepped into view, illuminated from behind as they hobbled into the hallway. It was obvious that they were not human, with glowing purple eyes with no pupils and grey skin covered in sores and rot. Their mouth hung open and their yellow teeth were bared as they walked aimlessly with no direction or goal. It was certainly a ghoul without any doubt.
Unfortunately, this ghoul was almost right on top of the menace, and he needed to get away quickly before the entire village realizes that he's there. Now Alois had a choice. Both would require precision. Crouching, the lion eyed the ghoul, waiting for it to turn its back. Once it did, he pounced, swiftly grabbing onto the ghoul's head before twisting it until t's neck snapped with a loud CRACK.
It was quick and it was effortless. The body fell to the floor with ease, but it came to Alois' attention that something was wrong. Quickly, he jumped, moving his feet out of the way of the creature's jaws as the head was still kicking.
"Oh, come on…" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Then he raised his foot before bringing it down on top of the ghoul's head, crushing the skull and destroying the brain. Unfortunately, it was messier than he would have liked, as blood and grey matter splattered his shoe and pant leg as well as the floor. Feebly attempting to shake the gore off of his foot, the man wrinkled his nose in disgust, but the creature was dead.
"Wonderful…" the man said, reaching down in order to grab onto the ghoul's shoulders. Since the creatures weren't that bright, hiding the body was only a matter of stuffing it into a trunk and putting a rug over the blood on the floor. Then he slipped out the backdoor once again and disappeared into the darkness, moving onto the next house.
It felt as though he had been walking around for hours, slinking into houses and stealthily killing the ghouls. He grew angry that he could no longer smell the comforting scent of his beau on the coat, and instead smelled the blood he was now covered in. Like clockwork, he was hiding, searching, killing; hiding, searching, killing; hiding, searching, and killing with no end in sight. Alois' heart was pounding and sweat coated his skin—not as he grew tired, but as he grew more and more uneasy. There was so much blood—so much death, that it almost didn't matter if he hid bodies anymore. It became instinctual. It was as though he, himself, was becoming a mindless ghoul. His ears rang, his body grew hot, and his mind became fuzzy. Lurking in the dark, he was now preoccupied with killing the ghouls, and had forgotten what he came there to do.
Closer, he crept to a ghoul, making sure he was still out of sight. He didn't register any sound. As far as he was concerned, it was silent, despite the sounds of crickets and other nighttime sounds in the background. The man's eyes flared crimson as he drew closer, practically right on top of his prey. Then, a dog's barking tore through the static in his head, snapping him back to his senses. Blinking, he watched as the small ghoul perked up and looked in the direction the dog came from before running off. It was a child. The ghoul that he was about to kill was a child no younger than he was when he lived here.
Bringing up a hand, he was about to cover his mouth in shock, only to realise that they were completely covered in blood. The burning of his skin was gone as his stomach dropped, his eyes going wide. His blood ran cold. His eyes stung as salty water collected in them and threatened to pour out. Frozen, he stood there, staring at his hands as he realised what he had almost done.
Gasping, the Phantomhive's head whipped around as the dog barked again, flaxen locks bouncing with it. He knew he needed to get to cover fast. So, he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran with tears streaming down his cheeks and staining the area around his eyes pink. Sniffling, he hiccupped as he tried to hold in his sobs, his face heating up but his hands as cold as ice. They felt weighted.
By the time he found an appropriate hiding place, he was almost tripping of his own feet as he slowly stumbled. It was a barn that belonged to a local man who used to threaten Alois and his brother with tools. He wasn't concerned. He didn't notice. He was too horrified by his own doings to think about the doings of others.
Now, it had just dawned on him just how horrifying this world was. Madness had its hold on the people trapped within its boundaries and turned them into beasts. First, it was subtle, and then it was all at once. Soon, he would grow blisters and growths and become a bona-fide beast if he stayed here, wouldn't he? He was trapped.
Alois struggled to breathe as he stepped inside, jumping and gasping at the mutilated animals. He should have expected it, knowing ghouls, but he still wasn't prepared, especially in his current mental state. Suddenly, his legs buckled and he fell into a pile of hay, momentarily forgetting the situation he was in while simultaneously drowning in the thought. How on earth was he going to find his spouse? How on earth was he going to escape? What if he becomes consumed? What if Ciel does? With each horrific scenario he came up with, he came up with ten more.
Grasping at his flaxen locks, the man tugged at them, curling up with his knees against his chest. He tried to be quiet and pull himself together, but he couldn't. His emotions were wild and untamed. They were being used against him.
Then there was a noise, startling the menace. Alois' eyes grew wide as he wasn't able to sense what was coming, but could certainly hear it. It was the sound of light pieces of metal clinking together as whatever it was trotted up to the barn. Then it hit him.
"A dog?" he mouthed, recalling the animal, his body tense. He prepared himself to run in case one of the ghouls was there with it. Then, the canine waddled into the barn, looking for him. It was a bulldog, slobbering and snorting as it sought out the menace. When the dog did find him, it sat down in front of him, staring up at him as his tears began to slow down.
"Crying, kiddo?" a voice called from the animal. It was familiar and comforting, despite its rough, grainy texture and gruff manner of speaking.
"P-pops?" hiccupped the blonde, recognizing the voice of detective Bailey senior, one of his most trusted associates.
"Well, not exactly." The bulldog answered, causing Alois to shake his head with a painful chuckle.
"I figured." He sobbed. "Nothing is right, here."
"It's a nightmare. What did you expect?"
"Are you like that dog from before?" questioned Alois, sniffling. He wiped his nose on his sleeve before continuing.
"Oh, so you recognise me!" mused the animal. "Good job. I wasn't expecting that, given that I look a bit different now."
"What are you?" inquired the menace, shaking his head. "What do you want? What do any of you want? What is the point of this place? Why are like that? Why do you have Pop's voice? Just—what's going on?"
"You're the one who spent an afternoon deciding what dogs your friends and loved ones look like. Not me." Answered the bulldog with a snort. "I'm only going based on you, so no complaining, alright? You could say that I'm like a spiritual guardian or something. Basically, I'm here to help you."
"Why? Wouldn't you rather; oh, I dunno… try to eat me?"
"Not really. If you die, I die, since I'm all in your head. I don't want that. That's just how things work around here."
"And 'here' is where?" inquired the menace with a crack remaining in his voice.
"Well… They don't really have a name, but you're basically in your own head." Explained the dog. "Your body is on the outside, fast asleep like all the others. Also just like the others, you're all connected inside the same dream."
"So random strangers are in my head?"
"Basically. Your husband is too."
"Fan-fucking-tastic…" grimaced Alois, furrowing his brow. "I suppose you can't tell me what's doing this? And perhaps how to get out."
"Indeed I can. Some of it, anyway." The bulldog informed. "The first person who contracted the 'sickness' got himself a mare attached to him, and when he came to the hospital, he just brought it with him. The fact that it was able to get a couple of demons trapped too, means that it's gotten pretty tough. That's what happens when it eats as many souls as it did all at once."
"Wait, wait, wait… a mare?" questioned the Phantomhive. "Are you saying a fucking horse is responsible for this shit? Brilliant. That's just swell. 'I'm sorry to tell you this, Luka, but your big brother and his husband died as a result of being eaten in dreamland by my little pony'!"
"No, no… a mare. It's a supernatural being that steals souls while people are dreaming!" snorted the canine, standing up again on its stubby legs. "It's not a demon, but its close, so you better watch your ass."
"I'm aware of the conditions of my ass, thank you. Now how do I kill it?"
"First, you need to get out of here. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I can only show you the way from time to time. That thing is trying to prevent me from working. It's not used to dealing with my kind. Only a strong-willed demon could summon something like me in here."
"Super helpful…" huffed the menace, sobering up a bit from his emotional turmoil. He shifted where he sat, stretching his legs out and no longer holding his knees. "So what am I supposed to do? Where do I go now?"
"You'll have to follow me for that." The bulldog said, turning its head toward the exit of the building before looking to the blonde again. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to trust me on this."
"I'm not sure if I do." Alois replied, standing up regardless. He stared down at the dog, eager to go home. He wanted nothing more than a bath, some clean clothes, and his husband's affections at that moment. Unfortunately for him, it was going to be a while. "I don't think I have much choice though, do I?"
"That's how the world works, sometimes."
"This isn't the same world, though. I'll follow you for now, but if I even get the slightest hint that you're up to no good, I'm gonna put you down, y'hear me?"
"Yes, your highness." The bulldog said. "The next door won't be easy, though. This place is too important to you to just let the door show up willy-nilly. First, you gotta look deep inside of yourself, and decide what to do with this memory. I gotta warn you, though. This place is significant to you. It's part of who you are as a person right now. So… what do you want?"
"What do you mean 'what do I want'? I want to go home. I want to see my family." Said the menace, shaking his head with a baffled expression. He towered over the dog, speaking to it like a lunatic with his arms crossed. "I'd like to think that I've moved on from this place. I've been here. I don't need to do it again. It's pretty obvious what I want. I just want to move on from this place."
Exasperation fell from his lips as his voice was true. This place was dead. There was nothing left for him here. To this, the dog sat down where it stood and nodded.
"Now that, I believe." The gruff voice said as the animal stared off into the distance.
Alois heard the click of what sounded like a lighter and looked over his shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide as he saw the pile of hay he was sitting on before now on fire. Turning around completely, he saw the fire spread. Yelping, he stepped back a few paces.
"What the fuck?!"
"Calm down. It's only an illusion." The dog calmly informed. "Pay attention. Is it hot?"
Furrowing his brow in confusion, the menace hesitantly held out his hand closer to the flames. "N-no?" he answered confusedly. "It's not?"
"See? What did I tell you?" questioned the canine. "Just close your eyes and count to ten. It'll disappear quickly."
"There's a fucking fire!"
"Didn't you say you trusted me?"
"No, I said I'd follow you until you fucked up. This is fucking up!"
"Just do it." Said the voice of his detective friend, coming from the dog. Somehow, it was calming. "Close your eyes, and count to ten."
Pressing his lips into a thin line, the menace stared at the inferno and it began to ravage the barn. His muscles were tense and he wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He couldn't bear the thought all the same. Clenching his fists, Alois took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of fire. He knew that even if the barn was on fire for certain, he could survive it, but he didn't want to if he didn't have to. Finally, he closed his eyes, bracing for the feeling of his flesh burning.
"One… Two… Three… Four…" he stopped, jolting and letting out a whimper as he heard clattering. Something had fallen over or collapsed. "F-f-five… S-six…" The fire sounded as though it hit something flammable and flared right next to him. "S-seven… Eight… N-nine… Ten!"
Silence. There was nothing but silence. Opening his eyes again, he squinted, furrowing his brow at the light. The barn was gone, and as his eyes adjusted, he heard chattering. The room was monochrome, as were the people inside, conversing without mouths and chuckling without faces. They were blank faces at what appeared to be a ball. Despite his appearance, no one paid any mind to the Phantomhive, despite being filthy and splattered in blood. This was the home of Aleister Chambers, the Viscount Druitt. He remembered it, as he had been here on multiple occasions, having acted as the man's "cousin" for several years. Looking around, he saw that the turnout was large, but the dog that had lead him there was nowhere in sight.
"Damn dog…" he grumbled. "Should I have trusted you?"
