⚠️ Content Warnings ⤴
Info
Content Warnings
*Descriptive gore
*General trauma (?)
Other stuff
I figure I need to start a timeline for Spec SOMEWHERE and Mel writing Noctis just affirmed that
I can't decide if this is cringe or fire, so yall can decide for me.
Written by Spectre48
The echoes of running water fill the air. The only sound that can be heard for miles, the white noise does wonders in both creating a sense of isolation and calm— a strange blend of feelings felt by those fortunate enough to find themselves in this non-Euclidean oasis. A strange blend of feelings that were filling the mind of one individual in particular.
Alexander Black lies on the edge of one of the pools in Level 37, his legs dangling into the water. The uniform tiles of the ceiling appear to rise and fall in front of his eyes, akin to the breathing of a massive, unknown creature.
He's sprawled out on his back; his eyes glossed over with the warm curtain of brain fog. Even he doesn't know how long he's been zoning out for. Alex had barely been in the Backrooms for half a month, and the stress was mounting to a boiling point. The intoxicating effects of Level 37 have been affecting him since entry, lulling his psyche into a sense of dark indifference. Even the monster that chased him here began to seem insignificant.
The sedative feelings of Level 37 provide a perfect environment for one to sit and contemplate. Being the first opportunity he's had to actually take something slow, everything had come crashing down as soon as Alex's mind began to wander. A muddied mess of disconnected thoughts drift through his mind like leaves in the wind. The realization that he would never be able to say a proper goodbye to those back home. The realization that he would probably never get back home at all.
The realization that everyone in his life was just as dead to him as he was to them— nineteen years of building relationships, working towards being something— thrown out the window.
They weren't very happy realizations.
"I can't still be in the same building, can I? It'd be impossible…"
"What if I'm really just lying on a hospital bed somewhere? I was right next to Dad when I tripped— maybe I just hit my head… wait, how do you even wake up from a coma?"
"…Now that I think about it, I haven't had to eat or drink since I've gotten here. A coma might be the first idea that actually makes some sort of sense. Of course I wouldn't need sustenance if I'm asleep— they'd have an IV drip going…"
"I wonder how much time has passed."
"Will I still be the same person when I wake up?"
"…What if I'm not going to?"
Alex's thoughts continue to slowly trickle across his mind, much like the water flowing through the white ceramic passageways. The pondering doesn't help— if anything, it only makes the growing weight of regret even heavier.
Alex feels his eyes begin to water. Each new consideration squeezed his brain like a sponge— the bone around his eye sockets felt cramped. His sinuses felt blocked.
For all intents and purposes, he found himself turning into a pathetic, sniveling mess. However, through all the tears and personal lamenting, there was thought that he could never shake off. A thought that had been plaguing him ever since he arrived.
"Am I… in Hell?"
…
…
…
"It sure is awfully peaceful for Hell."
Alex takes a few deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. As peaceful as it would be, he had no intention of spending the rest of eternity lying on his back, staring a monochromatic ceiling. Whether it be waking up, finding closure, or locating the exit to this nightmarish building, he was determined to find some answers.
Alex sits up and stretches, blinking away the last remnants of lethargy. It was time to move on.
He stuffs his shoes into his backpack— wouldn't want his only pair getting drenched— and swings his legs back up onto the floor.
"Might as well check my phone before getting up. Maybe THIS place will finally have some service."
…
"Shit."
Disappointed, yet still unsurprised, Alex slips his backpack onto his shoulders, and begins wandering through the corridors. The white, misty hallways are impossible to distinct from each other, but does it really matter?
"At least the water's not ice-freaking-cold. Glad whatever sadistic God that crafted this place was one to spring for a water heater."
Alex tries to recount the events of the past few days, in an effort to pierce through the mental haze. It was an incredibly difficult task— the Level itself seemed to will you into a state of sedation. Familiar… cozy… he couldn't quite place it. Either way, it was unnerving.
"So, I woke up in a long hallway with pipes everywhere… wandered around for a bit… stayed in a few empty rooms for a couple of nights… not much else. That weird Pac-Man machine made me blink into some arcade place… after that, some creepy ghost thing started chasing me, I tripped on the carpet, and I ended up here. Wild."
"I wonder how many rooms are in this place?"
Alex rounds another corner, and much to his distaste, finds that the walkways have disappeared.
"Really? I was just starting to get dry…" he says aloud. Maybe the universe would feel sorry for him if he complained enough.
With a begrudging sigh, he rolls up his pant legs, and starts sloshing through the shallow crystal waters.
A few minutes of walking later, Alex pauses to check his phone again in futility. It was honestly more of a pointless ritual now, he hadn't gotten a signal once. It was really starting to get annoying.
As he stares into the screen of his phone, something catches his eye in the water— a reflection.
A reflection of something behind him. Something… moving.
A rush of pins and needles shoots up his back, and Alex immediately feels like his spine is on fire— like he's being watched.
Slowly returning his phone to his backpack, he takes a deep breath, and prepares to make a run for it. He turns a corner, and continues walking at his normal pace for a few seconds. Once he's sure of his decision, Alex quickly spins around— gazing straight into the visage of the incorporeal entity he'd encountered a few days ago.
A chill runs through Alex's blood as he breaks into a sprint, not daring to look behind himself again. He cuts through corridor after corridor, zig-zagging around in a confused pattern.
After expending the last of his energy, he puts his hands on his knees and turns around. Emptiness.
Alex sighs, leaning against the wall. "This place just can't get any weirder, can it?"
Just as Alex begins to get his bearings, four black tendrils wrap around his wrists and ankles, as he's pulled back against the wall— by the rogue Scream Eater that had finally caught up. He tries to thrash against the entity's grip, but the effort is pointless. The creature descends on him, its mouth opening to reveal a swirling mass of tendrils that slither towards his face.
With no options left, Alex screams.
"I AM NOT GOING OUT LIKE THIS. IF YOU'RE THE GRIM REAPER, I'M GIVING YOUR ASS AN IOU!"
With the ghostly creature shifting its attention to feeding, Alex manages to get his right hand free to shove at the entity's face. For just a moment, Alex feels a surge of confidence. Maybe he could fend this thing off!
"HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, YOU FRE…aahh…"
Alex's thoughts are cut off as he feels the tendrils of the creature tighten and slide up his arm. Before he can even react, a sickening CRUNCH fills the air, followed by a wet squelching noise.
Alex feels light headed as he looks back at the phantom… what just happened? Why was his vision getting so blurry…
He looks down at the swirling waters below— finding them stained a dark red. Bits of sinew and chunks of oddly-colored material float in the soupy mixture. Whatever it is, this patch of water seemed to maintain the consistency of vomit. It was repulsive.
"Wait… are those… fingers?"
The two and two click. Alex looks down at the shredded stump of where his right forearm used to be, and his entire being explodes into pain. The dull iron tinge of injury fills his mouth. He can't feel his hand anymore, yet it still feels like it's on fire. The edge of his forearm feels like it's been twisted in the tightest blood pressure cuff he's ever felt, and he can hear the snapping of his tendons and bones as he tries to move around the stump. It's no use.
Alex collapses into the water with a feeble SPLASH!
For a solid portion of wanderers, this would be where their story ends. And for Alex Black, there is no exception.
But sometimes, a phoenix will rise from the ashes.
A door closes, and a window opens.
A story ends, and another begins.
The blood from Alex's arm diffuses into the water in an uncanny pattern. The crimson fluid swirls and shifts, forming itself into a scarlet ankh— from which none other than the Red Knight emerges in its full glory.
The Knight makes quick work of the lost Scream Eater— it flashes forward with godlike speed, its massive sword impaling the ghostly entity through the chest, dissolving it into a puddle of goop.
The Knight shoulders its blade, and makes its way over to Alex, who is quickly losing consciousness.
"Salutations, wanderer. I am going to seal your wound. This will hurt." The Knight declares. Not bothering to wait for a response, the Red Knight grabs Alex's bleeding stump with its gauntlet, and a flash of white light fills the room— when it all clears, Alex finds their wound completely healed.
"Th… thank youuuu" he manages to get out, his words slurring as he struggles to stay awake.
"It is nothing of concern. You have lost a lot of blood, and will likely die within the hour."
The Knight looks down at Alex, lifting him onto his shoulder to help him stand.
"However, I have a solution."
The Red Knight slashes through the air with his sword, cleaving a glowing white portal into existence.
"This will take you to the nearest medical station. There are others there that can help you. Once you step through the portal, heed my words: There are stakes at play here, young one. Things you cannot understand, nor am I able to articulate. Things far, far, more important than your life."
Alex nods weakly— he can barely comprehend the Knight's words, let alone the idea of walking anywhere.
"When I take you through this gateway, do not listen to any of the voices you hear. You will hear them. There will be hundreds— perhaps even thousands. Every one of them is lying to you. Continue walking forward, and do not stop, no matter what you may hear. As you approach your destination, You will see symbols begin to manifest in the air. There will be one with a white crossroads— find it, and reach for it. Do you understand?"
Alex replies by throwing up into the water. Disgusting. The Red Knight barely seems to notice.
"My guidance ends here— good luck, Alexander Black."
With that, the Knight shoves him into the tear in reality.
Alex stumbles forward onto the glowing white ground of the Red Knight's ethereal passageway. The light was blinding— all he could see was white. With only the goal of survival in mind, he pressed forward.
As Alex inches his way through the light-filled void, he could feel his very essence starting to vibrate with an unknown power— all around him, colors swam and danced through the air, blending into perfect fractals and indescribable shapes. One thought ran through Alex's head as he continued onward: "I'm not supposed to be here."
And then, everything began to collapse.
Welcome to Hell.Your parents never cared about you anyway, why would they mourn your loss?Your friends are glad that you're gone.All you bring is misery.Step away from the path! They're lying to you!Come to me.Wouldn't it just be so much easier to fade into oblivion? Come, be at peace.AAAAaaAAaAAaaAAaaAAAAAAaaaAAaaAADo everyone a favor and just end it all before you mess anything else up.I've always loved you, my son. Your faith has rewarded you. Come, follow the sound of my voice— there is much to discuss.The cacophony of voices rip through Alex's mind like a paper shredder, the noise making his head scream in agony. Flashes of white-hot pain pierce his brain, and black spots slowly start to overtake his vision. He can feel himself starting to sway… teetering on the edge of the thin path ahead of him.
And then…
There was nothing.