Author's Note: This is quite horror-inclined, so don't read alone, in a stormy castle at night, and while I probably give myself too much credit, it's still creepy and a bit dark, so read at your own exspense. Also, all the things that are normally missing from the games and stories will be explained, so don't go jumping on my back because some of the things here don't exist in-game.

With that said, let's begin.


No, it was hot today. Hotter than England should be...

So why the cold...?

There was a flash of light – blinding, practically. Was it the Sun?

No, there was a black rim. Like a four-leafed clover...

Come to think of it, there were four lights, too. Or maybe it was just vision fading and shifting, screwing with perception?

No, no, it was real, damn it. An arm just touched one of them.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

A brighter light eclipsed the four-leaf clover. Closer or brighter? Seemed to be closer...

“I think he's waking up! Get the doctor!”

God damn it, why won't she just shut up...!? Leave me to my sleep... God I'm tired. Feel like I kissed a freight train.

What's a freight train?

Hell if I know. It was something my dad said?

“Mr, please wake up... we need you to wake up...”

A little girl? What's she doing here? She should leave, I'm not nice when I'm sleepy.

Vision became less fogged-up. The image cleared.

Good God...


“Wake up, mister... we need you to wake up...”

Run! Run! God... they're getting closer!

Stay back! No! Jesus Christ!

Consciousness flicked back on like a switch – snapping Alistair's mental bones in a whirlwind of buggered perceptions. The pain seemed all too real. His bones may as well have really been snapped – who was to say they weren't?

“Doctor, he's waking up!”

Oh, God... It was real! It was happening again! He had to get out of here!

He threw his fists into the air – he struck someone! They let out a yelp before hitting the ground. His other fist didn't raise as expected... it must have been bound.

Blinking and clearing out the fog, he could see he was in a pristine – and blindingly white – bedroom. There weren't any windows, so no easy escape – looks like the main route.

Looking down to his arm, it was in a cast. Strange, those were pretty uncommon these days. Why were they using this?

Unless it was to restrain him and his arm was perfectly fine... but he remembered hitting a building...

Oh God. Those people. Those mutilated, feral people... were they still loose!? He had to get out of here, before they showed up again!

Out of nowhere, pain jabbed straight into his neck – was it the corpse-person he had knocked down? Had they shown up to drag him into Hell and beyond?

He was twisted, leaving a grotesque snap in the air, to reveal a gaping wide maw, filled with rotting, yellow teeth, pieces of flesh lodged between them, and the rotting stench of death vomiting forth into his nose...

“Welcome to Hell, Alistair...” It grinned.

Alistair began to scream and shut his eyes. He began to thrash about, landing a glancing blow on something made of plastic-y cloth. “Hold him down! He needs to calm down!” A strong male voice thundered – it was different from the corpse-person's voice... he opened his eyes...


He slammed the shut and forgot about opening them ever again – this was it. He was in Hell. What use was sight when all there was... was pain? Unless seeing the physical manifestation of pain, suffering and horror grew to pique his attention over the years, he would claw his eyes out the first chance he got, assuming these Hellish people didn't get to them first.

Something touched his eye – it seemed he would be spared the trouble. It wrenched it open – what was he seeing!?

Something was breaking through the misery... something white, something clean. Not bloodied, doused in terror and screaming, but something celestial, there to help him-

It was a needle.

Dear God.

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