Chapter 5 - ALBERT GREEN'S SWEET SIXTEEN

"If you won't let me go, I'll just have to go through you!"

Albert says, but he feels nothing under his feet, neither does Alexander.

They're falling.

They can't do anything against it, they just continue falling.

And flash!

They're in a 10x10 room filled with a foam-type texture.

"What the hell did you just do?" Albert growls, staring at Alexander.

Alexander, still catching his breath, shrugs. "I didn't do anything. The house did."

The foam-textured walls could make movement unpredictable—maybe they absorb impact, or worse, swallow anything that presses too hard against them. Albert throws a punch just to test the space, only for his fist to sink into the wall like it's eating him.

He stares through the blank walls of the dimension and he starts to wander.

"It's so empty."

He says to himself as the room gets more distorted and they get seperated. All of a sudden, the room cracks and he jumps out, landing in a hallway that seems to be endless.

The room breaks behind him.

Where is he?

Albert walks anxiously through the endless hallway until he finds a corner.

Albert's breath caught in his throat as his feet hit nothingness. The floor below him vanished, and for a brief moment, everything was still. He felt the disorienting pull of gravity, but he couldn't tell if he was falling or floating. No matter how he twisted and turned, nothing felt real.

He was just… falling.

And then, with a flash of white light, the world around him shifted.

Albert landed hard on his feet in a room that felt like it was made entirely of foam—soft but firm, the walls squishing and contorting under his touch. He instinctively threw a punch, but his fist sank into the wall, as though the space itself were absorbing his movements. His heart raced as he tried to pull his hand out, only to feel a strange, disorienting tug.

"What the hell did you just do?" he growled, spinning around to face Alexander, who was catching his breath on the other side of the room.

"I didn't do anything," Alexander said, his voice strained. "The house did."

The walls—soft, like foam—shifted again. The room, or what was left of it, seemed to breathe with an almost unnatural rhythm. Albert's anxiety spiked. Something was wrong. The foam-textured walls weren't just absorbing his movements—they were alive.

As he paced the room, it felt as if he was sinking into an endless void, stretching further away from reality with every step. Then, with a crack, the walls split apart in jagged, irregular shapes, and Albert found himself falling once more.

Again? His mind screamed. Where am I?

His body slammed against the ground, and for a split second, the world spun out of control. He was no longer in that soft, foam-filled room. Instead, he was standing in a long, endless hallway. The walls stretched on forever in either direction. The floor beneath him seemed to ripple and shudder, like a living organism.

"Where am I?" Albert muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The hallway was long—too long. No turns. No doors. Just infinite space, stretching before him. He took a step forward, then another, trying to find his bearings. But with every movement, the hallway stretched further, and he felt further away from any kind of escape.

It felt like he was walking in circles, but he couldn't see it. His mind began to play tricks on him. Was this place real? Or was it some sort of nightmare? Sweat clung to his brow as panic started to gnaw at him.

Then, in the corner of his eye, something shifted. A crack appeared along the wall, slowly spreading like a vein. The hum of machinery vibrated in the air.

Albert stopped in his tracks, looking up. His eyes widened. He wasn't alone.

The walls seemed to curl, bending inward until they formed a shape—a humanoid figure, no taller than Albert himself, but no less imposing. The figure's body shimmered, glowing faintly. It was as if the room itself had brought something to life. And then Albert heard it. A soft, melodic hum.

The figure's arms swayed in a dance-like motion, its movements fluid, controlled. Albert's heartbeat thudded in his chest as the figure moved closer. There was no malice in its movement, but something about it was inherently wrong. It was beautiful, in a way. But its beauty felt dangerous, predatory. The walls, the space—The Sugarhouse—it was all part of this creature, an entity bound by the distorted room.

"No…" Albert muttered, stepping back instinctively. "This is insane."

But the figure continued to approach him, its movements slow and deliberate. As it moved closer, Albert's body instinctively tensed, his muscles coiling. There was a sense of control in the air, like The Sugarhouse itself was pushing him, manipulating him into submission. The space was folding, bending, twisting around him like it was rewriting his very perception of reality.

Albert gritted his teeth, forcing himself to snap out of his stupor. He wasn't going to be some puppet in this game.

With a growl, he lunged forward, trying to break free of the oppressive atmosphere. But no matter how fast he moved, the hallway seemed to stretch in the wrong direction. It felt as if every step he took only brought him further into the labyrinth of The Sugarhouse's power.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the figure faded. The walls around Albert pulsed, distorting further into the dark. He stopped moving, heart pounding. His thoughts were a swirl of confusion, but one thing became clear: The Sugarhouse wasn't just a stand—it was a force.

Albert felt his head spin as his surroundings distorted again. The walls were closing in on him, the space itself shrinking. The endless hallway had turned into a claustrophobic nightmare, its walls pressing in on all sides.

And there was nowhere to run.

Albert gritted his teeth, fists clenched, but in this twisted, unreal place, even his strongest will felt useless. His vision blurred as he felt his footing slipping, but then—click—he felt something in the air shift. A sudden clarity.

No more tricks, he thought. This ends here.

Albert snapped his fingers, a surge of energy flooding his body. But the hallway was still shifting, twisting, folding. He was trapped.

The walls pressed closer, and the figure reappeared, its glowing eyes watching him with unblinking intensity.

"You're not the one who's in control here," it whispered, its voice a blend of the walls and the air itself.

Albert's breath hitched. He had been led into this trap, cornered by The Sugarhouse's sickening grip. But at that moment, Albert knew one thing for sure: he hadn't lost. Not yet.

Alexander comes from around the corner, menacingly.

"We'll see. Come at me!"

Alexander dares.

Albert forms a pointy boomerang at his head, but the walls deflect it.

Alexander falls through the floor and comes back up behind Albert, and he bashes Albert down.

"NO-"

Albert says before surrendering.

"Hey, for all I know you could be faking and go after him anyway."

Alex says as his stand comes out of the floor and charges at Albert.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORA! OOORA!"

And just like that, Albert has been

[RETIRED].

They fall upwards into the real world when Albert crawls his way back on his where he came from.

Alex smirks, watching him inch his way back. Feeling satisfied with the end.

Joel scurries back to the water fountain and sees Alexander standing, completely healthy, as a figure limps his way out of the area.

"Alex, what the hell happened"

"Long story."

"Who is he?"

"Nobody important."

"Alex, tell me."

"I call it.. "A stand". I'll tell you, but you gotta listen closely."