Ace had probably been conscious on and off for a while. It had been weeks, after all. Whether or not he could determine what on Earth was going on around him during that time was another thing entirely, though. He would likely have faint memories of an airplane, some small, cramped spaces, and even food. Some of it was better than other, and at least once, he had been fed a fast food burger. (Really? Had they actually fed him a burger? Maybe this was their one act of generosity.) His other memories consisted of being bustled around mostly at night, but everything would seem hazy, as if he was somehow sedated. He probably was. That, and recovering from a concussion.

Today, however, he was seated. He was tied and chained in that seated position, and to a very sturdy chair, too, for hours and hours. There was something rough and bristly over his head that smelled with the must of potatoes and mold. This particular day had a lot of travel in it—times when it was bright, and when it was dark, and there was nigh-ever-present speech around him, but only half of it was in English, and only half of that damnable prattling was fully interpretable to a native English speaker, owing to the thick accents employed. At some moments it felt like he was on a truck, and another, he may have even been inside a crate, given the smell of wood and itch of straw.

Finally, though, the movement stopped. Wherever they were taking him, he was there; and, there he sat for at least ten minutes in complete darkness before, finally, a fierce light trickled through the wide-threaded gaps in the fabric covering his head. When that was removed all at once, all that remained was utterly piercing, blinding light, in the fashion of a classic interrogation.

When his eyes adjusted, he'd see... himself? Yes, there was a mirror — the mirror — right in front of him. Beside it were three easily-identifiable figures: Li Fang, Dian, and the mysterious businessman.

The shimmering, ever-darkening surface of the mirror was by and far the most captivating thing, though.


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Ace would likely find his reflection a lot more intriguing after that initial gaze, even as he started to look away. The mirror was... a lot bigger than it had been before. It was at least his full, standing height, maybe a bit taller, and now more oval than round.

There was no visible movement, but just an immediate change, as if someone had frame-skipped a video. The lights flickered, and his reflection was suddenly no longer sitting in the chair six feet away from the mirror. It was suddenly standing. Then came another flicker and skip; it was no longer six feet away from the mirror, but suddenly right at the surface of the mirror, as if a man peering in a window.

Ace's reflection's eyes stared deeply into him. Unnatural pupils became large, dilated, and uncomfortable-looking. The eyes as a whole began to change; an opaque red sheen, like some sort of layer of blood, yet not dripping or bleeding at all, covered both of the reflection's eyes entirely. When it cleared, there were two new eyes in Ace's sockets—two eyes that had round, human-like hazel irises, scrawled with wrinkly, trench-like detail in their rolling depths, and surrounded by a milky ocean of sclera. The pupils of these eyes began to stretch vertically, splitting their irises open in a way that almost somehow looked painful, as if being slit from the inside by some unseen force.

Li Fang and the others did not see any of this. Only Ace did. However, they did see when, buried within the ornamental filigree of the ring-shaped mirror, those exact same eyes opened on the mirror itself, outside the reflection, in real, physical space. It was a pair of actual, organic looking eyes on the mirror's decorative border that snapped wide, and with them came a wash of unnatural, fluorescent-like light that poured out like beams from each and covered Ace.

There was a brilliant stab of pain, sharp as a syringe. It pierced through his head like a bullet, and then it was gone. Ace's throat squeezed together so tightly he could barely eek out a yelp. And when he opened his eyes again, there it was. Suddenly, he felt like he was detaching, as if he was seeing the whole world through someone else's eyes. His vision grew dimmed, and stretched, and almost nauseatingly wobbly, but he could see more than he ever could before. His racing heart abruptly began beating in his own skull, just between his ears.

"Whuh... whh... what-- you... ...!?"

It was only when he heard his own voice being silenced that he realized he couldn't breath, but was somehow unable to suffocate. It was a Hellish, unnatural experience, feeling the world condense on you, and yourself condense on nothing. Slowly, his own eyes began to match those of his reflection; not in their sinister color, but the nigh-traumatic stare. His voice wasn't heard, but his mouth could be seen struggling out: 'What are you doing to me?'

And that was the last he was seen moving, then. He froze, quite literally, without so much as a twitching muscle. But whatever otherworldly panic he was experiencing didn't seem to drop with him-- rather, it was seemingly at the very peak of fear that he was trapped: Eyes wide and jaw agape, staring directly into the eyes of his wicked reflection.

Then, image in the mirror went black, and the mirror's own surface seemed to vanish entirely, as if it had become a gaping hole.

Li Fang approached in slow, cautious steps. Worth noting was that his attire was not typical for his fashion. He eschewed his finer attire for black combat trousers, a black button-up shirt (untucked), and some sturdy-looking gloves and boots to match. Granted, the shirt was still silk; some comforts don't go easy. Nevertheless, a revolver of some kind hung from a thigh-rig holster, making him appear as ready for a hairy situation as one of his standing would be willing to make himself.

"It's ready," he said plainly, then, without further hesitation, actually stepped inside.

Dian, decked out in full tacticaltacticool combat gear as usual, replete with bulky, black automatic shotgun, looked silently to the only other member of the party, whom he urged with a gesturing nod of his head to follow their employer in.

As the three walked in to this mirror-turned-portal, they were each presented with an inside view remarkably similar to the view from the outside-- utterly pitch black. The instant they stepped foot into whatever world they had just invaded, it became impossible to see two feet ahead. In fact, it became impossible to see the very collars on their shirts, as if light itself was unable to reflect off whatever surfaces there were laid in front of them, if any. The only real difference between this place from the outside and the inside, was the sudden, immediate sensation of falling off a cliff.

And apparently, it was, it was a long, long fall to the bottom.

Throughout the descent, a maddening whirlwind of voices, male and female, young and old, came and flew past in the form of streaks of light. There were too many to make much sense out of them; though every now and then the name "Ace" became recognizable, along with other stray concepts that made little sense without context. "Don't touch me!" "Did you see?" "Sweetie, please listen..." "running from...?" "kinda funny." "By the docks." "missed you so much..." "really, really proud..." "But this is the last...!" "talkin' too much." "Hey, Danny?"

And while a keen ear might be able to make more of those fleeting traces of thought, one light, one sound stood out loud and clear above all... or, rather below, as it was the one bright red ball of burning incandescence that they all seemed to be hurtling so rapidly towards. Or maybe that ball was the ever-rising sound of hyperventilation crawling into their collective ears. Either way, the words were plain to be heard...

"Well now. I didn't expect to see you here. Having trouble getting your beauty rest? I can't say I blame you..."

"Ah... hey, boss. Didn't see you come in."

"Danny... I know you'd want to get rid of your demons, but you won't find any answers sitting in front of the mirror."

"Demons? Tsch. I don't have any demons... Jus' people."

"Sure you do. I see two right there."

"...Hhh."

---

When they came to, there wasn't quite so much space to move around in. At first glance, it became clear that they were in a room of some kind, somebody's bedroom judging by the bed, with nothing immediately out of the ordinary. It was cold, though. The lights where out, too, but the snow reflecting on the streetlamps outside the cracked window cast a dull blue chroma about the place. There was a closet, a dresser, and a great deal of fresh-looking holes in the walls, big enough for a fist to fit inside.

And of course, there was the door to the rest of the place, wherever that was.

If there had been any kind of literal fall, or even just the illusion of one, it was hard to tell by looking at Li Fang.

His eyes snapped open, and he was standing perfectly straight and still, with cold resolve. Even his eyes were pointed with steely focus straight ahead, and stayed that way for several seconds, before glancing around to take in the room.

He looked back over a shoulder. There, he found Dian, holding on to the pistol grip of his shotgun with one hand, and the side of a dresser with the other for stability. He was a little disoriented by the trip in, but seemed to be recovering well.

Not a word was spoken between them; whether or not they were unnerved by the situation was very hard to tell. Maybe the silence was just the way they operated, or perhaps it reflected grave seriousness. Or, it could have even been just how they coped with the alien experience. Whatever the case may have been, Dian boldly, instinctively took point, advancing to the door with the swift, quiet steps of a soldier in hostile territory. He twisted the knob and swung the door open to peer out into whatever room or corridor to which it led. If no threat was immediately present, he'd continue, scanning vigilantly as he went, with his employer following right behind.

The door opened easily enough, but the path through wasn't as easily made as it seemed. Rather than any kind of house that held the room they came out of, there was a long, narrow-looking hallway presented before them. The walls and ceiling were concrete, and dimly lit by barely functioning lights that revealed the grime and mold smeared up the walls. It could have easily been mistaken for a mix of the tunnels in their old hideout, and the maintenance closet therein. Somewhere in the distance, the deep rumble of a foghorn bellowed quietly through.

The greatest obstacle was the thing standing roughly five feet in front of Dian the very moment he opened the door. It resembled something humanoid-- something grey and bony and drained wrapped in something that appeared to be an assortment of bondage and restraints. The face itself was hidden by a black mask that left little room for breathing, let alone sight or sound. Forced on its hunched back it carried a great ball of what looked like cooled lava, with painful looking spikes skewered through it, and something bright red burning somewhere deep within. It was a pathetic looking creature... if it was even a creature at all, or just a statue planted by someone with horrible taste. It was hard to tell, considering how it stood utterly motionless from the moment it was seen.

It took just enough space in the hallway for someone to squeeze by on either side...

Dian merely stopped a good distance away and jutted his left hand out to signal those behind him to hold.

He pressed the body of the automatic shotgun against the stomach of his tactical vest and racked the slide back. The unused, red-sleeved buckshot cartridge fell out against his chest, where he recovered it, and in its place shoved a green one, and racked the pump forward again.

Boom-BOOM.

The high-explosive FRAG-12 round flew directly in the peculiar creature's face and detonated like some kind of small grenade.

Dian slid the extra round of buckshot he had taken out just a moment ago back up the feed ramp while he surveyed the damage with hardened focus.

"It's something like that," commented Li Fang to his associate in a subtly amused way. It may have been his first time exploring Ace's psyche, but it wasn't his first time using the mirror. "This is a physical manifestation of those imagined things, however, so step carefully, as they could kill you."

As he approached, squinting through the smoke, he added, "Conversely, it means we can kill them, as well, so there's no need to be too afraid."

Soon, the smoke cleared as it often did. But had the supposed beast been felled? Short answer, no. In fact, despite the gaping, gory hole in its head, it seemed like Dian really had wasted one of the good shells on nothing but a statue after all. But suddenly, with a grotesque lurch of its shoulders, the mutilated Atlas raised its stump and from some unseen orifice, released a low, jarring howl that echoed throughout the entire area. It could've been mistaken for a cry of sorrow as easily as it could have for pain, but it wasn't long after it acted...

Dian needn't have wasted another shell on it, for its apparent self-defense mechanism was more like a self-destruction. The great ball of stuff if carried on its back quickly began to glow fiercely, and with one final, ear shattering wail, simply burst, causing a heap of caustic red goop to spill all over itself, as well as a fair portion of the area around it. It only took one demonstration to see what it was capable of; when it promptly melted into a pile of simmering bone and sinew.

Dian had taken a good hop back, but Li Fang did not visibly recoil, other than to simply... lean back for a moment.

Several seconds passed, then he laughed once, sharply, maybe even condescendingly. "The boy thinks himself such a tortured soul," he commented.

Dian continued onward. If he was fazed, he forced it back; maybe there was something about that feline's scruffy-face, stocky-build, and focused demeanor that made it seem like he couldn't comprehend a notion like "fear." His squinting eyes seemed to only recognize "thing I should shoot" and "thing I shouldn't shoot but might shoot later." Still, even he kept a wide berth around the corpse, and carefully stepped around any dangerous secretions that may have remained on the floor. His boss followed suit similarly.

"Come out, Mr. Crawford," called the pale lizard with a smile in his voice.

There stood a few moments of constrained silence. At first, there seemed to be no response to the reptile's cries until an eerie, unbalanced hum filtered through the hallway. Among this and the ticking sound from earlier, the blurry echo of a voice seemed to steadily come into focus. A red hot orb of light rose from the ashes of their newly felled foe and hovered there, remarkably similar to the bigger one they'd seen before. This one was smaller-- about the size of a baseball-- but much brighter, and in focus. As it steadily crawled a path to the first room they'd fallen into, it seemed to say:

...'Sou-sou-sounds like classic survivor's guilt to me... ...hhhyou're ASKING to be used, Ace! Manipulated. By these monsters!'

The core seemed to alternate from a white shade to a black tint, jerking between sounds and memories.

'Do you think anyone will pity you!? Do you think anyone will care, if you're added to the list of statistics...!? ...Danny... I'm just trying to protect you.'

Eventually, it made its way to the closet, melting into the wall in front of the mouse man's very eyes.

'Trust me when I tell you... You can't trust anyone.'

A shrill, witch-like cackle erupted from the closet, and quite suddenly, the once bone-chilling cold evaporated in favor of a muggy, mind-blurring heat. The glow from the orb dissapeared, only to gush across the entire room with a vengeance, wrapping everything in a cocoon of burnt reds and oranges and yellows. And most alarming of all-- a set of pale white fingers, or maybe claws, punctured the closet doors and slowly tore through them very literally like a hot knife through butter. The form behind it was yet to be seen...

"...HhhhHHHHH-hh-kh hkh-hhthh..."

...But it was a safe bet that it wasn't friendly.