He rises up.
Knuckles digging in his eyes.
Which then open.
And are greeted with...
Empty, dark nothingness?
Okay.
"So this definitely isn't where I just was."
"There's just no way, right?"
He thinks back.
Trying his best to recap the events leading up to his arrival here.
Meeting Churro.
Great guy by the way, would talk with him again.
Traveling through the Mind-Scape alongside him.
Taking a lot with Churro.
Mostly bickering back-and-forth.
Then arriving at the stupid, ugly mansion.
"Really don't care about its history and significance or whatever-- it was an eye-sore."
He entered with Churro and the fan-club's president...
Then they met Ivis.
His eyes narrow.
Features hardening.
Ivis.
The alternate, cult-leader version of himself who tried taking over his body.
His life.
All without remorse.
Who...
Who he...
Who he killed.
He can still feel Ivis' blood strung across himself.
The detached look in his eyes even while clinging to life.
As if he didn't care that he was breathing his last breath.
As if..as if he doesn't care that his face is now burned into his brain.
And is here to stay.
Regardless of what he wants or feels about it.
But back to the topic at hand.
No point in harping on something you can't control or change.
After that, his recollection ceases.
So there's only one question.
How the hell did he get from that crummy mansion, to now an empty void of nothing?
Because this definitely isn't his Mind-Scape, nor is it home-sweet-home.
What if he dropped dead, and went straight to hell?
Could this be hell?
"That doesn't even make sense. Who just drops dead, and goes straight to hell?"
...Who was that?
Is he imagining voices in his head now?
Oh god- hell makes you schizophrenic?
Or maybe he's just hearing demons?
Alright-- now he really isn't making any sense.
Might not be in hell, but definitely schizophrenic.
"He's genuinely an idiot."
Another one.
This voice is rough. Gravely. Definitely a real mans-man.
The previous voice was kind of squeaky, probably an adolescent or something.
Or someone with unfortunate genetics.
Relatable, honestly. His voice couldn't be higher.
"How would you react, then?" He shouts into the infinite void. "If you had a bunch of rude, losers rattling off nonsense in your head?"
That came out a lot angrier than he originally tended.
With more animosity.
And rightfully so.
He can hear the rougher voice smirk.
Which shouldn't be possible, but somehow is.
Magic, he supposes.
"He's got some balls after all."'
Sylus steps forward, his fists clenched by his sides.
"Where am I, and who are you? Both of you?" he barks.
Brimming with frustration.
"What do you think?"
Sylus growls.
Of course they don't want to tell him.
They want him to play with puzzle pieces instead of just being straight-up with what's going on.
The man steps into view.
Well.
His glowing...spirit form does.
As does the adolescent.
There's something familiar about this, now that he thinks about it.
The voices.
No.
"No, that can't be possible." But it is.
It's one of Abbadon's early victims.
From back when he was but a child.
His soul-- anyway.
More of them start rearing their heads, appearing in all of their glory one by one like a bunch of movie cameos.
More of Abbadon's victims.
"I think I know who you are," he says, "To an extent. But that still doesn't ask my question of where we are?"
"We," he gestures to himself and those standing around, "-are in your subconscious. Nah-- that's an understatement. We're trapped in the depths of your subconsciousness thanks to that idealist fool Abbadon."
He's not even surprised anymore.
Well.
By meeting the souls of Abbadon's victims? Yes.
But this having something to do with him? Not in the slightest.
It's always something to do with Abbadon.
Always is.
He can never escape his actions, nor their consequences.
"Okay-- but how do I get out of here? I have to return, I have people who are counting on me to get back semi-soon."
"You don't," says the older man with a firm voice. "We've been trying long before you woke up. It just ain't possible-- taking 'yer body back ain't happening, not right now anyway."
His face scrunches.
"What do you mean, not right now? Why not right now?"
Someone else steps up.
Their presence oddly calming.
"Because-" This one is clearly a woman.
Weirdly enough...
And this is the last time he's going to say 'oddly' or weirdly' in a sentence, but she reminds him of his mother.
Maybe it's just the voice.
Or the aroma.
But that's good enough.
She sighs.
'Shaking' her head.
Which is never a good sign.
"The one who brought you here in the first place is currently in control of your body."
"The one you call...Ivis."
Everything goes numb.
His brain short-circuiting.
Ivis.
Alive, and in control of his body?
No.
Nuh-uh.
He killed him.
Stabbed him right through the chest and watched him bleed to death.
He watched the light in his eyes go out.
"No. No he isn't- I killed him. I drove a knife straight through him, multiple times in fact-- I watched him die, I made sure he was dead. There's no way he's in control of anything."
She grabs darkness with her bare...hands? Whatever they are, and pulls down a projection screen.
Not the slightest clue how that was done.
But it looked neat.
"I know this is confusing for you and doesn't make the slightest bit of sense, but I'm being honest with you, alright? Just trust me, and watch."
The screen lights up in an instant.
Bringing some much needed perspective on his surroundings.
But even more so...
It gives insight as to what's happening in the outside world.
With his body.
And who's currently possessing it.
***
Ivis jolts awake.
Coated in a thick layer of sweat.
He pants.
His breathing hard and labored.
As if just finishing a hard workout.
It worked.
He chuckles.
Then breaks into full-on laughter.
God-- it worked.
After so, so long, he's free.
Free from that prison.
It's over now.
He might not be home, but he can make this place --whatever it is, he can't make out much of anything through the thick darkness-- his new, better home.
Which leaves just one thing left to do.
To make this new world his own.
He takes a deep breath, his palms a little shaky.
And for good reason.
There's no telling what lies in store.
Before their merging, Sylus had refused to give him any information as to what his world might be like, forcing him to now go in blind.
Not the worst thing in the world, though.
He doubts it could be any worse than the Mind-Scape.
Ivis rubs his palms together.
Softly changing.
There's no telling if the spell will work.
Some spells don't work in certain dimensions.
Even simple spells.
That, and he hasn't tapped into a Mana nor Aura network in...
Too long.
All he can say, really.
His palms glow bright-- their own source of light.
It's not much, but better than nothing.
He waves his flashlight-hands around-- a little awkwardly, but it's not the worst thing in the world.
With the area now bright enough to be explored, Ivis looks around, barely able to contain his childish glee.
Which doesn't last for long.
Because he'd only traded one prison for another.
Literally this time.
He and dozens of others are trapped inside of small, rusted out cages that hang from chains bolted into the ceiling.
The rusted death-trap swing back and forth with the slightest bit of pressure added, causing those inside to be regularly pushed off balance.
Red-eyed monsters lurk in the shadows, beyond the mind's wildest imagination.
Blood splattered across the walls and floors.
Partly dried, other parts fresh.
And there's nothing what lurks in the areas that have yet to be discovered.
"No." He shakes his head vigorously.
No.
This can't be real.
He refuses to believe so.
It's just not possible.
After all he's done to get to this point.
The lying, maiming and killing he's done, all of that just to be imprisoned once again?
This has to be a joke.
A prank.
But he knows it's not.
He's not delusional.
This is reality.
But it won't be for long. Not if he has something to say about it.
The monsters' eyes snap to him.
Glowing harshly.
Snarling.
They're watching him.
Waiting for him to give them a reason.
There's no telling how powerful they might be.
He could risk it.
Fight against them to the best of his abilities.
He ponders the idea for a moment.
Maybe...
No, no, he can't.
Not yet.
Not without a concrete chance of escaping, or fighting back.
"Play it smart," he tells himself. Because this is his one and only chance.
He can't screw this up.
Ivis leans against the bars.
His flesh screaming in agony as the metal digs into his back, whilst also sending shivers down his spine.
Double whammy.
But how long does he have to wait?
A day, a week, a year-- how long?
There's really no telling.
But one can only be patient for so long before the cracks start to show.
"You're finally awake," says a girl, her luscious red hair and beautifully dark complexion catching his eye right away.
She feels...familiar.
Not to him.
But his-- his-- body.
Heart skips a beat.
Flutters, even.
It's weird.
A foreign concept to him.
He tries to ignore it.
To let it pass.
"Simmy? You gonna answer me, or are 'ya gonna play chicken?"
He can't ignore her.
His body won't allow it; forcing him to open his mouth and speak.
"I didn't hear you," he says through gritted teeth, his voice but a whisper.
She's immediately suspicious by his response.
Especially the way he spoke.
This definitely wasn't a good idea.
"You okay, baby?" Must be his girlfriend. Or something close to that.
Concern shines brightly in her eyes.
Dark brown. Rare in his world, but looking at everyone else in their cages, it doesn't appear so in this one.
"I'm doing fine." Short and emotionless.
Again-- not helping his case.
She's even more suspicious now, and he's hardly said anything.
Which is probably the problem.
What is he even doing?
Trying to stand-in for Sylus?
There's no point.
Doesn't give him anything. Nothing but stress and headaches.
So why does he keep trying to?
Trying to appease her desire for conversation? For who she thinks is Sylus?
It doesn't make any sense to him. Nor does it when his heart yearns for her.
Unless...there's still pieces of him.
Sylus.
No-- there is no 'unless', it's the only thing that makes sense.
He's making waves.
Influencing him.
And yearning...for her.
Something needs to be done about this.
He can't move on in this world with Sylus still lingering.
Whatever pieces of him are left need to be snuffed out.
His eyes lock onto her.
Heart beating faster than seconds ago.
Fingers itching.
Not for her neck as they typically would, but for her hands.
To hold them. Intertwine his with hers.
His legs give out.
Irises taking the shape of hearts.
He knows exactly how to snuff him out-- once and for all.
But not yet.
That takes secondary priority.
Getting out of this...pathetic, primitive and unbefitting cage is first.
Though, easier said than done with the creatures sitting right outside waiting for him to try something-- anything.
A plan is in order.
What kind? Not the faintest idea.
But he needs one for sure.
A distraction, perhaps?
Maybe. Just depends on how many there are.
From what he can tell-- though it's nothing concrete-- there are about six-to-seven of them, and two in specific who are larger than the rest by a considerable amount.
Definitely something to look out for.
That, and whoever that 'Abbadon' character is.
They speak about him as if he's the boogey-man, going as far as saying they'll 'sacrifice' each other to...who, or whatever, this individual is.
Likely being their captor.
Which only brings more questions to his already frazzled mind.
What kind of sick individual does something like this?
Holding people --children who don't know any better against their will in cages.
While not the worst, most gut-wrenching thing he's seen, it's disturbing-- disgusting, even.
No one and nothing should ever hold another living-being captive.
Not ever.
Few things separate us from the primitive behavior of animals.
We can choose.
Think.
Speak and communicate.
Dream.
To hold another being hostage, to restrict their freedom, is to take away everything that makes them...a person. A real, living being.
Committing such a low, despicable act is completely unforgivable.
Against any and every existing moral code.
And should be punishable by death.
"That's ironic."
His head spins on a swivel.
Who was that?
It sounded familiar...though he can't determine who that might be, not with such few words.
"Who was that?" he says aloud.
The others in cages give confused, weirded-out stares.
Alright...
Apparently not any of them.
In his head, maybe?
Possibly schizophrenia?
No- that wouldn't make any sense.
Not unless Sylus was before he took over his body, thus transferring the disease over to him.
"He seemed so well-adjusted before everything went down.."
Perhaps this was yet another misjudgment.
Hopefully not.
The list of inconveniences doesn't need to continue growing any further.
He already has to deal with being stuck inside of a cage, monsters outside of said cage that are beyond comprehension, and whatever else this world and it's inhabitants have in store for him.
Schizophrenia would just complicate things more than he wants them to be.
"Hey-- I literally said the same exact thing and got called an idiot and moron for it. Where's all of that energy for him?"
Sylus.
A cold chill flows down his back.
It's him.
But then who was the voice that came before him?
How is Sylus even speaking right now?
This shouldn't be possible. Yet somehow is.
And even worse-- he can hear his thoughts, and what's going on outside of their now shared body?
Can he *see* what's going on also?
This changes things. By a considerable amount.
Because what else can he do?
Is there a possibility Sylus could also regain control over the body if he tried?
What else is he saying, or doing?
There's really no telling.
He has to do something about this.
But *what?*
Ivis groans in frustration-- gripping at his hair.
"Sylus, are you okay? What's going on?" Concern sparkles in her eyes.
Great.
The woman.
He can feel himself gravitating towards her again.
His body slowly inching closer.
"Rue," comes the voice of Sylus again, echoing in his mind.
So that's her name.
Huh.
Nice to put a name to the face.
"I'm fine." His voice is cold and detached.
Everything she knows her boyfriend not to be.
He might share his face.
His voice.
Body.
But this isn't the boy she's fallen in love with.
It's not Sylus.
No matter what her eyes are saying.
Because her heart --her soul-- are telling her differently.
She looks away from him.
A deep sadness etched into her irises.
She tries to hide it.
But her face quickly gives away the turmoil stirring within.
His eyes never leave her.
Watching as her features twist in real time.
His heart pounds.
Something's wrong with her.
She's visibly upset.
Rue has to know.
She has to.
It was only a matter of time. He knows that.
But he never expected her finding out, her reaction, to bother him so much.
Because this isn't his problem.
She's just a stepping tool.
A useful tool.
Sylus' soul doesn't feel the same.
His hand reaches out on behalf of the one she loves.
Independent of Ivis and his wishes.
It tries to grab onto her. To hold her.
Ivis does his best to stop himself, but it's no use.
The body. Sylus. Wants what it wants.
And he has no say in any of it.
He's nothing but a dog on a leash.
Being tugged back whenever he gets too far ahead of his owner.
His eyes narrow.
A sudden understanding dawning on him.
This body isn't his.
And never will be.
Not until Sylus and Rue are both out of the picture.
He could try.
Break out of here, and run as far away from her and everything to do with this as possible.
But it wouldn't matter.
Sylus would always resist. He'd always push back.
Taking over, even if just a little, as the boy had just done moments ago.
He'll always yearn for her. Seek her out.
Right now he might be the one who pilots the body.
But he's not the one who it recognizes. Who it truly responds to.
Sylus and Rue have to die.
First.
Before he gets around to doing anything else.
Because whatever plan he ends up concocting won't come together soon enough.
Every second Rue is alive is another second Sylus spends hopeful, and in that hope is strength.
He's going to keep fighting back. To try and reclaim his body.
That much is obvious.
They've already fought once before in which he was swiftly stabbed-- but this time is different.
Sylus has home-court advantage.
Help and support from those in the cages he's cultivated relationships with.
And most importantly, he has Rue.
His living heart and soul.
If they were to wrestle for control... "I'm not sure I could win."
Admitting that is a blow to his pride. But the unfortunate truth.
With Rue around, it's just a matter of time.
And if things don't go in his favor, he can't just hop to another body to escape the consequence of defeat.
He'll be stuck here. Unable to escape again.
Just like in the Mind-Scape. Except worse-- he'd have to watch as Sylus lived his life, the life *he* should've had.
That's no way to live.
"I refuse to subject myself to such torment. Not again. Not ever again."
"Planning is good and well-- but it'll only drive up the risk rather than quell it. If I'm ever to escape Sylus' shadow, to truly have dominion over this body, then I need to act fast. I need to act now."
There's no other choice.
Sylus has forced his hand.
What happens next...
What has to happen. It's on him.
He should've just faded into the background. Allowed him to take over.
But people like him always have to get in the way. Make things more complicated than need be.
Ivis grabs his hand with the other, forcing them both around the cages' bars.
He grips it with such force it causes the cage to begin groaning and creaking, restricting it from swinging back and forth as it was just a second ago.
His heart twists with uncertainty.
"You don't have to do this," a part of him says.
Influenced by Sylus' thoughts and emotions.
But he does.
He does have to do this if he ever wants to integrate back into a normal society. To have friends who aren't just other versions of himself, to fall in love again.
To feel parental love.
To truly...belong.
This has to be done.
And honestly-- "I don't feel sorry for it one bit."
Selfishness has gotten him this far.
And it's going to propel him to even greater heights. He just has to get through this first.
He takes a deep breath.
Steeling his raging nerves.
He reaches out.
Himself his time.
And grabs his very soul.
Shaping it.
Molding it.
Until his desired shape is created.
Sparks crackle all around him.
Enough to draw the attention of the caged children --Rue mostly-- as well the monsters who immediately sit up, ready to pounce if necessary.
Just to be sure.
"What are you doing?" Rue calls out to him.
She's worried.
For her safety or his, he isn't entirely sure. Possibly a mixture of both.
It doesn't matter which.
He coats his body with the outline of his soul, forming what is commonly known as an 'Aura Barrier.'
The greatest defense and offense in every world.
Yet with the worst caveat.
In exchange for being nearly invincible, passively outputting an immense gravitational pressure --though the strength of that varies from person to person-- and your physical capabilities amplified beyond measure, should your Aura-Barrier break, it would mean immediate, no questions asked, death.
"A worthy risk if it means being free," Ivis tells himself.
Instantaneously, crushing pressure fills the room.
Cages fall.
No one moves.
Couldn't even though they want --and try-- to.
It's like having the weight on a planet pressing down on your spine.
Refusing to let up.
Not even for a second.
"Wait-- Ivis, Ivis what are you doing?"
Sylus.
He's finally paying attention.
Good.
He doesn't reply-- his actions do the talking for him.
Ripping open the cage and freeing himself.
He turns.
Scanning the room for the monsters.
They're stuck in a corner.
Unable to escape the mounting pressure that's been released, attacking indiscriminately.
No one --friend or foe-- is safe from an Aura-Barrier when let out.
The only counter-play is to release your own, and hope that the two will cancel each other out.
He's done it.
In just a days work, he's already ne what Sylus could not.
Pathetic.
But not surprising.
He steps out, stretching his back till it pops loudly.
"Sylus!" a boy calls out. "You're free! Get me out too, we can all escape!"
It's surprising that someone so young could muster up the courage to speak whilst under the effects of an active Aura-Barrier.
There's potential in him.
All of them.
Potential must always be allowed to bloom.
And never to be snuffed out too early.
He shrugs.
Lowering his raising hand, and walking away-- heading in the direction of Rue.
And then he hears it.
What he didn't want to hear.
Sylus' worried pleas.
Begging him not to harm any of them.
Pleading for each child's life-- and by name.
Reciting their miserable and sad backstories.
Hoping to grab onto whatever feelings he might have, and use them to bargain for their safety.
He really wasn't going to kill them.
Honest.
Not until Sylus said something.
Why did he have to speak up? To show that he loves them, and cares about what happens to them?
Ivis comes to a stop.
Slowly turning back around.
"Sylus, I want you to know something."
"I want you to know that what I'm about to do, it's going to be all of your fault. I didn't want to kill them, no one wants to kill a child, but you forced my hand."
"You should've just stayed hidden-- hell, you dying would've been preferred. And then maybe I wouldn't have had to do this."
He raises his hand again.
"Ivis."
"Ivis, don't do this. I'm begging you-- please, please don't do this. They don't deserve to die, not after everything they've done to stay alive, just please, please don't do this."
He relishes in the moment.
Listening to him beg.
The high that control brings, having hundreds of lives in the palm of your hands, it's exhilarating.
Unlike anything he's ever felt before.
Better.
Addicting.
He stretches out his palm.
Eerily calm.
There's so many of them to choose from.
Too many.
But Rue must be last.
To ensure that the impact is great enough to force Sylus into a downward spiral.
That he's sure about.
Ivis picks at random.
A small and fragile boy that can't be any older than nine years old.
"Good enough," he thinks.
He steps toward his shaking cage.
Staring him right n his big, pleading eyes.
"Sylus?"
He doesn't say anything. It's better that they don't realize it's him.
Let them believe Sylus is the one responsible for all of this.
Not that he isn't.
For taking their lives.
It's better this way.
He grabs his arm.
Ignoring his immediate cries to be let go.
"You're hurting me!" he says. Typical dialogue.
But he doesn't stop.
He intertwines their fingers and squeezes harder than necessary.
In one quick motion, against Sylus' wishes, and the part of him tainted by Sylus, he forces the boy's arm into his own torso.
It's difficult to hear his reaction over the others ccraming and yelling for him to stop-- though he assumes the boy screamed loud and hard.
To leave him alone-- that this isn't him. They're technically right.
Not that it matters.
Because he's in control right now.
And Sylus will soon be but a distant memory.
Even if not...He'll never recover from this.
The thought of him suffering for the rest of his life --should his plan not work and Sylus regain control anyway-- is perhaps better than him dying.
His other arm is next.
Then his legs.
Until he's but a ball of flesh. A disturbing remnant of what was.
Gasps and sounds of shock fill the air. They do nothing to deter him, not even the angry shouts.
Rather, they only serve to fuel him even further.
Like adding gasoline to an already well-lit fire.
He doesn't stop at just the boy-- no.
Ivis goes down each individual cell, performing the same action.
And soon, it becomes second-nature.
Like breathing.
He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.
Yes-- they're children.
Precious creatures that need --and deserve-- special protection and privileges.
And normally he'd feel inclined to agree.
To take it easy on them.
Children are the keys to the future, they're precious, all of that.
But this time is different.
Sylus cares about them.
Loves them.
That alone separates them from 'normal' children.
Hell-- it disqualifies the...things...from being classified as children at all.
They're more like delinquents. Inhumans.
So perhaps, there's nothing wrong with this at all.
Right?