Hello! Hope everyone's trying to stay warm lately- I'm actually typing this with no feeling whatsoever in my fingers due to the harshly low temperatures. As much as I like the cold (because who doesn't love snow?), this is a bit extreme.
Anyways, thanks to everyone who has given this fic a warm reception so far, and a special thanks to my awesomesauce reviewers! I especially like all your speculations as to who the Raven is (quick fun fact: the Raven is a bit of a nod to a great poet, Edgar Allen Poe, who wrote some incredibly creepy stuff, including his famous poem, "The Raven."). Of course I already know who it is (or do I? :) ), but it's going to be fun to see even more speculations in the coming chapters.
Alright, enough talking on my part: it's time for chapter three!
*Nintendo owns all characters mentioned in this fanfiction*
Chapter Three: The Grand Illusion
The dreams that haunted David's mind that night were both horrifying and comforting.
He dreamed of living in the shadows, of fighting and delivering the first blow to his opponent and of the screams of mercy his opponent gave as his life was snuffed out with a single swift motion. Each dream blended together in an orchestral movement of violence and adrenaline-fueled action, culminating into a moment where David found himself standing over a man face down in a ground soaked with pouring rain, with a heavy warm gun in his hand and the trickling rain washing the blood off his fingertips.
It was a horrifying nightmare...but it felt so right.
These dreams seemed to last a lifetime, until the sound of someone pounding on the door startled David awake with a gasp. His room was filled with a pale gray light, the only sign he had that morning had arrived on the island, and it bathed everything he saw in a dreamlike hue. For a moment, David wondered if he was still dreaming as he yawned and reluctantly slid out of bed, just as another loud pounding echoed from outside his door. Oh great, he thought to himself with contained sarcasm as he went to open it, looks like they have complimentary wake-up calls here.
The nurse he had met yesterday- Rosalina, if he remembered correctly- stood on the other side in her uniform and greeted him with a small smile. "I'm sorry to have woken you," she quietly said," but I forgot to remind you yesterday that due to protocol, all breakfasts are served to the patients at seven, and...well, it's a little after eight now. Since you're not a patient, I asked the cook to make sure that there's also a breakfast waiting for you. You'll be able to get your meals from him in the kitchen downstairs from now on."
David almost felt his stomach rumble at the prospect of breakfast, but he managed to keep the hunger out of his voice as he replied, "Thanks. One thing though...where exactly is the kitchen?"
"You mean Isaac didn't...?" Her look of confusion quickly shifted to one of frustration and annoyance. "That man! He's always too busy with his own ego-centered tasks to help anyone, and yet he constantly asks for help from us." Shaking off her opinions of Dr. Soloro, Rosalina asked another question. "Do you want me to show you the way there? I have to head down to monitor the patients, so it's on my way to where I usually head."
"Yeah, that'd be great if it's no trouble. Give me a second though: I just woke up, so I'm a bit unprepared to go downstairs."
She nodded in understanding, and David allowed the metal door to shut behind him as he threw off his old clothes and struggled into a pair of fresher ones from his backpack. Knowing there was no time for a shower (and not quite trusting what exactly would come out of the showerhead), he opted instead to splash some water from the faucet onto his face. He dried his face with the sleeve of his black sweater as he ran a hand through his brown hair in an attempt to make it look presentable. For a moment, his blue eyes locked with their reflection in the grimy mirror, and he wondered if, after this experience was said and done, they would look at the world with a different light. Then he simply let the thought fall away as he pushed his glasses onto his nose, grabbed his notebook and pencil, and then reopened the door and stepped outside.
Rosalina was patiently waiting for him, and the two fell into step beside each other as she struck up a conversation. "I hope you had a long rest last night, especially after the long day of traveling you took to get here."
The Raven's mysterious tapping danced through his head, causing David to answer, "Yeah, it was alright...who's in the room next to me though?"
"The two rooms you're between are actually empty right now. There were a few...problems we needed to fix in them."
"Ah. So, it sounds like you don't like Isaac Soloro very much."
Rosalina bit her lip and gave a small shake of her head. "The doctor and I don't always agree or see eye to eye, but I respect him and the work he accomplishes rather than remember him for his personal flaws." She seemed to reflect on her words in silence, until she murmured, "Do you mind if I ask you a question, Mr...?"
"It's Kojima. David Kojima...and yeah, go ahead and ask away."
"This story you're writing...why is it so important to you?"
David paused as he was about to descend the stairs, mulling over the question. "On the mainland, I'm just a journalist, and one that isn't really held in high regard. This place is a fascinating mystery on the mainland, and is regarded with suspicion. When I decided to write about the asylum, I knew that this story would finally put those rumors and speculations to rest, and that it had the potential to make me a well-known reporter."
"So this story will make or break you?"
"Pretty much. Curiosity is a reporter's greatest weapon, and I intend to use it to its fullest power."
"The only thing is," Rosalina reflected while they made their way down the creaking stairs, "some questions aren't meant to be answered."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "Those types of questions are always the ones I want to answer."
"You certainly are a curious man, Mr. Kojima."
"I'm a reporter: curiosity is in my blood."
Although she didn't respond, the nurse's eyes seemed to speak for her and said, "Your curiosity will get you into trouble." David had seen that same look before in many skeptical eyes, and like those many times before he merely brushed their warnings aside. They had no reason to worry: he could take care of himself. Nothing would come of a simple quest for truth.
Luckily, he didn't have to defend himself or answer for his curiosity, as Rosalina passed through the hallway under the stairs and turned into a grimy, dark kitchen. The stink of mildew and mold that hung in the air made David want to retch, and for a fleeting second he pitied the poor souls who ate meals made in this place. Everything, from the pots that hung overhead and were scattered about, to the forlorn stovetop in the corner of the tiled room, was covered in a layer of filth that seemed to have no beginning or end. Whoever worked in these terrible conditions either must have been the world's biggest slob, or had lost his senses many years ago.
A dry hack of a cough interrupted the reporter's thoughts as a figure rose from behind the steel island that occupied the middle of the kitchen, and stepped into a patch of sunlight that came from a skylight above their heads. At first, David was taken aback at the person who stood before him: it was the tallest man he had ever seen, and yet thin as a twig, giving him the appearance of a stretched out, malnourished scarecrow. His skin was so pale that it was nearly transparent, and the shaggy mane of shoulder-length white hair made David think he was looking at an old man. However, it was the eyes that held his attention, for they were the color of fresh blood and gleamed with a dark predatory light. If eyes were the windows to one's soul, then the soul of the man before him was a dark and desolate place.
The stranger's horrifying eyes bore into David for a moment, and then snapped to face Rosalina as he raised a white eyebrow. "Can I help you?" A smooth, well-groomed English accent came from the stranger's lips, only adding to David's ever-growing surprise.
"This is David," Rosalina replied. "He's going to be here with us for a month, and I brought him here so he knows where to go in order to get his meals. Now, I have to get back to work, so I'll leave you two here to get acquainted." With a smile at David, she turned around and ventured back down the hall, leaving David alone with the pale stranger.
Neither man spoke or moved for a moment, until the pale man rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I still don't understand how that woman can be so bloody busy all the time. She'll be the death of me one of these days."
"I think she's been pretty helpful," David replied.
Chuckling, the man shook his head. "She usually is: that's what makes her the friendliest person on this damn island. Oh hell, where are my manners?" Wiping a long hand on his grease stained apron, he held it out to David and introduced himself. "I'm Miles Tibbins, the cook here, but you can call me Miles."
Having already been partially introduced by Rosalina, David gave his last name and the two shook hands. "I hope you don't mind me asking," David reluctantly began, "but I can't help but notice-"
"My appearance?" Miles seemed to smirk as he cut David's question short and moved to absentmindedly pick up a pot and study his reflection. "I'm albino: when I was born, my skin, hair and eyes had no pigment, which makes me highly sensitive to light. When I was younger, my mother kept me inside most of the time, which made some of the people on the mainland regard me as a freak. Dr. Main heard about me, and ten years ago, he gave me a job here as the official cook. Now I don't have to worry about unnerving anyone with my appearance."
"Wow. Dr. Main sounds like quite the kind-hearted individual."
"That's one way to look at it. I think it was more like he needed a cook, and I needed a place to go." Miles glanced up with a curious expression as a question crossed his mind. "Why are you here anyway? You're not a patient, but I highly doubt you're some kind of visitor."
"I'm a reporter trying to write a story about this place." David opened his notebook and jotted a few things down as he asked, "What can you tell me about this place? Surely as the cook you must know a bit about the Mansion."
"Well, it originally belonged to two brothers about a hundred years ago- filthy rich, the both of them, but very strange too. Rumor has it they were both recluses for most of their lives, and no one ever saw them leave this Mansion. All their food and necessities were brought to the island once a month by boat, but that was it. They had no workers, no servants, no cooks- not even a gardener."
"So what happened to them?"
"About fifty years ago, one of the brothers- the younger one, I think- went insane, as in bat-psycho insane. It got so bad that one day he simply threw himself over the side of the island's cliffs. The living brother was devastated, and angry that his brother had succumbed to a madness that could have been contained. So he sold the Mansion to the state and asked that it be turned into an insane asylum, so that insane patients could be sequestered away from society and looked after."
David let out a low whistle. "That's definitely one hell of a story."
"It most certainly is. In my opinion, it only adds to the insanity of this place...hang on a second; you were here for something to eat, weren't you?" Without waiting for a response, the cook bustled about, sorted through the old cabinets, and then through an old, rusted refrigerator, until he finally tossed a small object wrapped in brown paper over his shoulder, which David caught nimbly with one hand. "Here: it's a little stale, but at least it's edible."
The reporter unwrapped the parcel to find a biscuit with cold jam smothered between its flaky layers. "Thanks," he told Miles as he bit into the hard crust, savoring the sweetness of the jam and the burst of energy it gave him. It took a moment to swallow, but he got it down in time to ask, "So, what's it like cooking for crazy people? I'm guessing you don't get a lot of complaints about the food."
"It's definitely interesting," Miles replied. "You really need to see the patients in order to understand."
"They're all in the sunroom, right?"
"That's right."
"Then I probably should go pay them a visit and start work on my story. Thank you for the food, Miles: I'll be sure to stop by later for lunch and dinner."
The pale cook tilted his head and gave David an expression as if he was trying to read his soul. "I'll definitely keep something on the side for you if you get hungry. Good luck on your story...hopefully you'll find what you're looking for."
David nodded and, finishing the last bit of breakfast, went to seek out the patients he had heard so much of in his short time at the asylum.
It didn't take long for David to make his way to the sunroom, and soon he was back in the cheery space he had seen yesterday. As he casually walked in, he could feel dozens of eyes watching him, although the patients all seemed to be in the same drugged stupor and didn't even glance at him. He refused to let the feeling of being watched break his stride, and he confidently approached Rosalina and (to his annoyance) Dr. Soloro, who were involved in a quiet conversation in the far corner. "Hello again," he greeted the two. "If you don't mind, I'll be here for a bit to observe the patients for my story."
"Their drugs just kicked in, so they shouldn't give you any trouble," Soloro replied, although by his tone and expression it seemed as though he wanted something bad to occur to the reporter.
Ignoring the doctor, Rosalina replied to David, "Go right ahead. If anything does occur, Dr. Soloro and I are here and watching to help."
"Okay." David made his way over to an empty couch that faced the patients, and took a seat. The cushions were old and had lost their firmness, and as David felt himself sink into the quicksand-like couch, he knew that it would take a lot of effort to get back up again. At least it was a comfortable place to sit and take not of the goings on, he thought to himself as he opened his journal and began to write.
02 November
The sunroom where the patients are kept is perhaps the only bright spot in this dark place. Every day the patients are brought here to be watched by the doctors and nurses, and some are so heavily drugged it's a wonder that they are able to stand on their own two feet. However, I can't help but notice that-"
"Excuse me."
David, once again annoyed at having to stop in the middle of his writing, looked up with a scowl...which quickly vanished as he felt his jaw drop.
The man in front of him- if such a person was even remotely human- was massive. He had to be over six feet, and was built like a muscular, fleshy tank. His blue pajamas were large, but looked to be two sizes too small and hugged his barreled chest and beefy arms. Every inch of his exposed hands and arms were completely covered in tattoos, and the skin that could be seen was a pale gray hue that looked almost green. A long mane of braided red dreadlocks framed his melon-sized head and his lumpy, scarred nose, and made his eyes shine like patches of black ice. Overall, the man looked to be the kind that, if you would happen to anger him, would rip your spinal cord out of your body and violently beat you over the head with it.
"Can...can I...?" David felt beads of nervous sweat roll down the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the room in a panic. Where were Rosalina and Isaac? They didn't seem to be in the room...in fact, he couldn't see any sort of doctor or nurse in the sunroom. Where the hell was everyone? It couldn't be possible that such dangerous patients were left unwatched...could it?
The giant stared down at David with a nonchalant expression of boredom, and then spoke in a deep, bone-vibrating voice. "Would you care to play a game of checkers against me?"
That was when David noticed the tiny (well, compared to the man it was tiny) box of checkers tucked under the giant's massive arm. "Oh. Well I-"
"Of course he doesn't want to play a game, you dingbat!" A voice interrupted the silence as the blonde woman David had met in Dr. Main's office yesterday slunk onto the cushion beside him. Flashing a maniacal grin at the stunned reporter, she continued, "Besides, you know better than to ignore your checkers partner. I'm the only one who doesn't let you win all the time."
The red-haired man shook his head with a sigh, as if he was used to the young woman's antics. "You've palmed your medication again, haven't you? Where'd you put the drug this time?"
Pointing at a man with spiky blue hair and a red bandana (who was passed out on a nearby couch), she cheekily replied, "Looks like Ike's going to have a fun day today. Look how happy he is!"
"That's despicable, Samantha. Shame on you."
"Don't act like that, Ganny- we know you don't take your meds either."
"Actually, I do take them...they just haven't figured out that the dosage is too low to have any effect on me. Plus, don't call me Ganny."
Laughing to herself, Samantha turned to look at David, who had become pale during the course of the conversation. "Aw look Gann, we scared the new guy. Hey there, new guy: so you're supposed to be the 'sane one' here? That's a good joke. You're obviously one of us."
"Samantha-"
"Alright Gann, I'll quit messing with him. So. New Guy. Hi. I'm Samus Aran, but according to Dr. Main, I'm Sam. This big oaf who's desperate for company is Gann, although I know him as Gano-"
"Sam, leave the poor sap alone," Gann ordered dryly as he dragged a ragged ottoman over to sit on and began setting up the checkerboard on the splintered wooden table in front of the couch. "Let's at least try to stay grounded to reality."
"Reality my ass! You and I know this isn't really our real lives, Gann." Sam glared at the fellow patient and casually whispered to David, "You see, I'm really an alien bounty hunter."
"Uh... where are the doctors and nurses? Shouldn't they be here?" With each passing second without any sign or form of authority, David grew increasingly nervous about the situation he had found himself in. How exactly was he supposed to handle crazed individuals who could snap at a moment's notice?
"Aw, you poor, naive new guy- I'm going to call you Steve! That's a proper new guy name...well Steve; they're not here because they simply don't care about us. In their minds, they shouldn't have to waste time watching over a bunch of drugged-up individuals." Sam stretched in a cat like manner as she added, "Besides, it gives me a chance to have an intelligent conversation with someone who can actually talk coherently."
"But...Dr. Main..."
Sam's maddening eyes held absolute truth as she told David, "The doctor's led you down a path of lies. Everything here is just a grand illusion, coated in madness and sweetened with a hint of insanity. Control and deception are the rules of the game, and if you want the truth and want to leave here, you're going to have to play."
You may want to keep an eye on Miles...something tells me he's going to be delivering some mindscrews. :)
Since I've been finishing chapters earlier than previously thought, I'm going to throw the idea of one update per month out the window. Chapter Four is coming along at a decent pace, so I'm aiming for it to be uploaded in about three/four weeks if all goes well. Until then, be sure to leave a review and follow this fic (because there are a few things I'm debating on that could kick the rating up, meaning you won't be able to see it unless you fix the categories section), so you don't have to worry about missing a single moment!
Thanks for reading!