Roy Helmondt was a troubled man.
He was a normal young adult, black hair, graduated in software engineering and was a good guy. He had these big protruding eyes and hair that was never properly set up over his head, his skin was notably pale and he used to detect the slightest noise like he had an in built sonar in his head.
Working as the head librarian at the Corrington Public Library, Rondon, his time went by in a constant state of flux. Surrounded by books and silence, even sleep became so bored it just... refused to come.
Chronic Insomnia.
At least that's what he told everyone that asked. Explaining his actual condition was a hassle in and of itself.
Doctors had given it a long name once, one that Roy had tried desperately to forget, for everytime they would mention it, it felt as if they were purposefully making fun of him.
Tetradian Sleep-Wake Rhythm Disorder — a supremely rare genetic disorder which causes the circadian rhythm to shift, making the body follow a 96 hour - or 4 days - sleep wake cycle.
It basically means that his body made it impossible for him to sleep within those 4 days, and sometimes even beyond that. His body was constantly in a state of high alert and when the sleep did come, it hit like a truck. He would be passed out cold for no less than 12 hours.
Amid the constant company of books and computers, conscious effort took a back seat. There would be times when he would get lost in the eternal boredom of it all, in the ever ticking clock on the wall and when he came to he would wonder, 'where was I just now?'
'Who was it that was piloting my body, who placed the books back on the shelves, who was it that typed in the new entries for book publishing?'
And finally, when all was set and done and Roy finally got off his shift, it was time to begin the long walk back home.
Roy rode a bike back home, away from the main city, through a series of rarely travelled roads that led through the woods. He clocked out at 5pm and would reach home at 7. A two hour long ride back to 'rest.'
Today, however, the ride home took a little too long.
The sun had settled somewhere below the horizon, plunging the sky into a darkness that felt more alive than any other night before it. A chilling wind blew through the woods today, one that sent shivers travelling down his spine and the distant creaking of the woods certainly didn't help the nerves.
Roy, seated as he was on his recently bought motorcycle - a Brough superior SS100, couldn't help but speed up a bit.
He passed by a telephone booth by the side of the road - why a telephone booth was all the way out here in the woods was beyond him. Perhaps it was a way to save stragglers in case someone got stuck here so far from the city.
Roy momentarily began to muse. What should he eat today? Maybe he ought to make some steak, or if he was feeling too lazy, boil some eggs.
The woods seemed to stretch on forever.
He passed a telephone booth.
Roy let out a big yawn. Strange, he was already starting to feel somewhat sleepy.
Caw! Caw!
A lone crow was seated atop branches, staring at him with its empty eyes.
Suddenly, Roy started to feel very strange. As if hundreds of eyes were watching him.
The next thing he noticed, was that the surroundings had become eerily quiet. The wind had slowed, the woods no longer creaked as they did just a few moments prior and the leaves no longer rustled.
He passed by a telephone booth.
The steady chugging of the SS100 was the only thing keeping the woods from swallowing him whole. It felt as if he had stepped into a gaping maw of a hungry beast.
Roy passed by a gentle swerve, and for a brief second, as the motorcycle's headlamp swept across the trees, he could've sworn the trunks were standing closer to the road than before.
The telephone booth came again.
The motorcycle's rhythmic roar began to grow muffled.
Again, he passed swerve, and then came the telephone booth.
"Oh, no." Roy found his voice trembling despite trying to stay calm.
He tightened his grip around the handlebars.
The cold metal bit into his palms.
Again.
The booth emerged from the darkness ahead of him like a landmark trapped in repetition. Its small overhead lamp buzzed weakly, illuminating the wet gravel beneath it. Roy's eyes widened.
No.
No, this wasn't possible.
He twisted the throttle harder.
The Brough Superior SS100 responded sluggishly now, its once confident growl sounding distant and drowned. The road beneath the wheels no longer even felt real. The motorcycle moved, but the world around it refused to change. Again and again, it repeated in a loop.
His breathing quickened.
The telephone booth passed him again.
This time Roy caught something inside it.
A silhouette.
He snapped his head toward it instinctively, but the booth vanished behind him before he could properly make it out.
His pulse began hammering violently.
"No, no, no…"
The words slipped out breathlessly beneath the roar of the engine.
The motorcycle itself felt feverish beneath him.
The road curved gently.
Another booth.
Roy nearly slammed the brakes then and there.
His mind screamed at him to turn back, but somewhere deep inside himself, beneath the panic and exhaustion and mounting dread, another feeling had begun creeping upward.
Curiosity.
The same poisonous curiosity that made people open forbidden books. The same curiosity that kept him awake night after night.
The woods suddenly opened ahead.
Roy's eyes widened. There, right in front of him lay a tunnel.
A tunnel that carved itself directly through the hillside like a wound biting into the earth. Unlike the suffocating darkness of the forest, the tunnel entrance glowed with warm amber light. Old lanterns hung along its curved stone walls - why anyone would ever use such lanterns to light up a tunnel was beyond him - their flames dancing gently despite the complete absence of wind.
And standing at the center of the entrance were two figures.
A man and a woman.
The man, almost 7 feet tall, a giant in the flesh with bulging muscles stood still under the light, his long shadow reaching the front tire of his motorcycle. He was dressed in dark robes, the kind Roy had often seen in picture books depicting priests of the olden days. A white screen hid his face from the world but his hands were visible. Red and blistered, they moved alongside the shaft of a flute.
And play the flute he did.
The melody drifting from it was soft enough that Roy almost mistook it for the wind at first. Yet every note reached him clearly.
The tune curled through the air like smoke, slipping beneath the roar of the motorcycle and sinking directly into his skull. Roy felt it behind his eyes more than he heard it with his ears.
Beside him stood the woman.
No, stood was the wrong word. She was dancing.
Her body moved in slow, hypnotic waves beneath layers of translucent fabric and golden ornaments. Thin chains shimmered against exposed skin, jewels reflected the lantern light in tiny flickers of crimson and gold. Her face was partially hidden by a thin veil but Roy could clearly see that the woman was beautiful.
He felt heat rush into his lower parts and blood pooled along his head. He felt entranced.
The woman moved like the waves breaking along the ocean shore, swaying gently towards him, leaning in close and stopped just short of their lips meeting.
Roy had never felt so euphoric. He felt an unnatural lust take over his body.
He had already imagined in his mind how he would have his way with her, ripping those clothes off and revealing her supple flesh. He would grab her hair and drag her down right there on the cold road and roughly pry her legs open. He imagined her gasping beneath him, imagined rough hands roaming desperately across warm skin while the lanternlight flickered over both their bodies. His exhausted mind burned with feverish images of tangled limbs, heavy breathing and desperate hunger that bordered on animalistic.
His breath quickened and mind reeled, wishing to do nothing more than to push the woman down and fulfill his desires, but another more rational part of his brain that still somehow worked cautioned against it.
The woman gave him a tight lipped smirk that he could hardly see under the veil and spoke.
Her voice was soft and sultry.
"Impressive. You have lasting mental fortitude." Her arms extended forward to catch his collar, twisting it lightly and pulling him closer still.
"You were going deep into that rabbit hole. The remnants of Vinushka have been restless lately. We can send you home."
Her fingers reached into his shirt, caressing his chest and twirled lightly around his ripples.
"Or~~~" She continued with a giggle. "We can take you somewhere else. A chance to witness grandeur~"
The flute continued behind her.
Slow.
Steady.
Roy's thoughts felt sluggish now, as though they were sinking into warm water.
The rational part of his mind screamed at him to leave.
None of this was normal.
The tunnel, the repeating road and certainly not these people.
Yet the exhaustion crushing his body had begun swallowing those thoughts whole. His mind no longer felt fully connected to itself. The woman's touch sent heat coursing through him while the flute hollowed out whatever resistance remained.
"Somewhere else?" Roy muttered weakly.
The towering man behind her lowered the flute slightly.
"Yes."
He offered no further explanation. The woman soon took her hand out of his shirt and backed away with a sway in her hips, dancing in a primeval art style that Roy had never seen before.
As she returned to her place right before the entrance to the tunnel, both of them turned to him and spoke in unison.
""You can turn away and head home. The road is now open. Or you can head into the tunnel and see the greater beyond.""
Roy stared deeper into the tunnel. The darkness beyond the amber glow looked endless, as did the tunnel itself. Roy did not understand what overtook him at that moment. Perhaps he had been entranced by the woman, or perhaps by the flute.
Maybe, he was just too exhausted to care about anything, moving in that same dissonant state he did most of the time.
But all he knew in that moment was that he felt curiosity.
And so, his fingers slowly tightened around the handlebars and gave them a twist.
The woman stepped aside and the giant started again with his flute.
The Brough Superior SS100 rolled forward into the tunnel with a roar and the woman passed him by with her hand signalling a goodbye.
Roy did not understand what happened afterwards.
The lanterns stretched on endlessly before him, the tunnel extending further and further into the bosom of the earth. The speedometer on his bike showed numbers he didn't know were even possible and his stomach felt like it would lurch outwards.
It felt as though every nerve inside him had been stretched taut like elastic pulled to its absolute limit—
—and then released.
SNAP!
Roy folded inward.
The tunnel warped into streaks of amber light and the motorcycle's engine elongated into a distorted metallic scream. The air howled into his ears like the anguished sound of a banshee and then there was silence.
A thick tinnitus rang constantly into his skull and his vision split apart into two.
Next thing he knew, he was lying down.
Lying down in a damp, wooden hall, with multiple tables all around him. And on those tables were cubes.
"What the fuck?"
...
A/N: This is my new work. Its going to be a short one, and will follow the events of the 2nd game. Those who have played the games, buckle up. Those who haven't, I will try and explain things the best along the way.
Cheers~