@bleachro: Hmmmmm. No >_>
DXX's forum posts
"Get back from there."
Barnes called out to Edgar, with his voice feeling so impossibly distant in doing so. Edgar turned his head slowly, his gaunt eyes widening just slightly at what he witnessed. His partner stood at least ten feet away, no, twenty feet. The longer he stood there, just staring in frozen fascination, the room stretched beyond like a black hole.
A triumph of roaring thunder vibrated his very teeth, his mouth dropped in one corner as if he was attempting to keep his composure, even now. His dress shoes twitched and scraped against the tile flooring, as it was here he experienced a single second of sheer terror, but not a second more.
Edgar's feet now stood firm again, his chin raising as he looked upon agent Barnes. His entire stature spoke volumes, knowing his compatriot in this nightmare would know full well where he stood. When Edgar was born- When he was built, his creators instilled in him a great desire for the unknown, for the macabre and for when stands behind the void. This was the void.
"Abandon all hope..." Edgar mused, turning away from Barnes, and back to Mr. North. With his curiosity possessing his entire person, the specialist started walking around the chair, in which this entity sat, so that he could finally see what was at the end of this journey... Or was it only the beginning? "...Ye who enter here..." He concluded, now standing face to face with North, as the world around them was stripped like flesh from a bone.
This place was not of this world, Edgar was certain of this. With each step taken, the building felt more alive in it's opposition of the visiting investigators. Much like how a predator creased it's snout to reveal it's fangs, the oddities found in these corridors were becoming more apparent.
Edgar, of course, only found a detached fascination with the phenomenon. Where Barnes felt like his reality was peeling away, rotting away, the pale shade of a poet found his more sobering than ever. He silently followed the agent even still, glaring at the man as if intending to bolster him with nothing but his hazel eyes.
As they two reached the precipice of this madness, an eerily elongated hallway, Edgar now walked at Barnes' side, occasionally glancing to him, insuring that he was still sane. Finally, they arrived at the gateway. Edgar's mouth slacked slightly as Barnes pressed forward, opening the door, entranced with the rapid range of emotions the agent experienced in a single breath.
If it weren't for his more mortal associate, Edgar wouldn't have even realized that the air became frigid. His skin could not feel such things, nor could his false lungs even produce a harrowed breath to be seen. It mattered not, as the specialist was now glaring at the "man" they came all this way for.
His eyes became slits, his head slowly turning to the side upon looking over this beastly specimen. Everything about Mr. North was suspect, everything. Only an aged corpse could be so still, so stiff. Not a frayed hair on his large head shook or twitched. His rigid hands were so tight, that the man's unkempt nails had carved up the chair's arms. Was it from a single clutch? Edgar wondered, or was this entity's only solace to make marks to pass the time in this tiny room?
Edgar's eyes twitched back and forth, from Barnes to North, eagerly awaiting some sort of response from the hulk of flesh. Alas, there was nothing but a silence only found in a grave. Eventually, the agent would look over, spurring the specialist to take action.
"...Mr. North..." Edgar's cool tone filled the silence, somehow not even echoing off the empty walls. The machine took a step closer, and pulled out his pocket watch. "...We've come to talk of sins that have long passed..." His words lingered with each step, now handing his watch over to Agent Barnes without even an aside glance. His finger was raised ever so gently, silently assuring Barnes of his intentions, and his request to be uninterrupted.
Edgar now stood directly behind Mr. North, his entire being attempting to emulate his impossible stillness. "It's the tale of a young boy, no older than six. For reasons unknown to any living soul, this young man decided to slaughter his brother in cold blood. Please tell me, if this sounds familiar to you... Roger."
Edgar followed the agent as if he were his shadow, silently stepping where he stepped while taking in the foreboding architecture, feeling the air compress around them as they walked through the crooked and dank maw.
Awaiting them was the secretary, who behaved and spoke more like an extension of the building itself, than a person of free thought and will. Her visage was of the uncanny sort, looking almost too eager for visitors to arrive in such a place of decay. While Barnes lowered his head at the sight, Edgar himself stared at her with his head titled curiously, looking her over like one looks at a statue's wandering eyes.
With a grin to his person, and a mild nod and smile returned, the two were pointed in the next direction of their eerie journey. They passed what seemed to be the waiting room, looking to Barnes once more to see him avert his gaze. From what? He wondered, until he noticed the people sitting inside. Much like the woman at the front desk, Edgar hardly noticed them at all, as if they blended in to the background with how little they moved and shuffled about.
It was the lift for them, and Edgar stood face forward while he listened intently to Barnes commiserate the ambient dread practically crushing at his shoulders. After wetting his dry lips, he chose to join in the commiseration.
"I believe there is some truth to that, Sir. I find myself thinking along a different path, though. In most circumstances, I would agree that a place such as this collects the weak and weary, and feeds on their hopelessness..." His brow furrowed, losing himself in thought. "As for where we stand? This building for the sickly and mad? I believe, Agent Barnes, that the denizens are here of their own choice. Yes, I would even say that they are drawn to the suffering, and the madness. Who's to say, perhaps, that such a place, the bricks and steel, don't encourage such woe?"
The lift bounced to a halt, and Edgar finally looked over to his companion with a crooked, but sincere smile. "And as us mortals fear death, there are those who's curiosity drives them through the ether..." He raised his hand, once again finding himself following the actions of Agent Barnes. "Let us find out together, hm?"
Barnes humored Edgar's enthusiasm to leave for Annabelle's, but he would soon feel guilty shortly after the request. It did not feel as if he was spurring on his "partner" in a chase for clarity, but rather Edgar felt as if he had taken this man hostage, the only thing missing was a gun sticking into his back.
From the moment they left the diner, the agent was not in his right mind, having surrendered to his frayed nerves from the moment the case truly began. Edgar could only watch in silence, like how one would watch a mouse wriggle in a sprung trap. It was his morbid curiosity that kept him silent for most of the journey.
Edgar was never one for comforting words, some could even say he was incapable of such warmth. No, the only thing he could share were his cold observations, and twisted intrigue in what awaited them at the decrepit place of care. So silence it was.
It was simply an awkward car ride, until they turned off the marked path, and into the forgotten. It was here, on this road that was choking from dense fog, that Edgar's face finally lit up, even if that too was just as subdued as the rest of his expressions.
He was a fanciful child in a man's figure, eyes wandering in keen observation of the demented woods encroaching on the road they drove upon. It was peace, a solace that Edgar felt safe in, from the complications and excessive stress of the world just outside of this canopy. Where Barnes' very soul no doubt felt squeezed, Edgar could hardly notice his compatriot's turmoil in his own moment of eerie wonder.
Just as the agent foretold, the asylum presented itself after thirty minutes of travel. The dense forest grew so freely, so aggressively, that coming upon a building of such size was almost a jumping shock, as if it was a living thing that waited to lurch out at whoever stumbled on it's presence.
Edgar was convinced that the architect of this place had to have been committed shortly after, as their work was the image of madness itself. For this did not bring any feeling of calm, or healing in the aggressive display of cracked stone and withered vine. It brought a feeling of dread, a feeling that pumped Edgar's hollow breast with anticipation.
The specialist stepped out of the car, his wide gaze looking back at the road from which they arrived. The fog seemed to have grown into a wall, from how impossible retreat felt at that very moment. There was no turning back now, and even this place knew it.
"By your lead, Agent Barnes." Edgar raised his arm out, a delicate hand gesturing to the most apparent entrance.
The pleasantries were exactly where Edgar had predicted they'd be, on the matter of his uncanny resemblance. The dreary man could only chuckle, sounding always woeful no matter his mood, and nodded in acknowledgment.
"Indeed they do, Agent, indeed they do."
Of course, this individual, like many, would never really no the truth. A machine was all Edgar was, a future humanity's product. This was not his story to tell, though, not while on the case.
Barnes begun to tell his story, one depicting a place so eerie and hopeless that it must be of the supernatural. St. Annabelle's was a facility unknown to the Specialist , other than what Barnes briefly told him over the phone. Though the construct was not of focus here, and was merely a domicile for who, or what, resided inside.
Edgar order after the agent, requesting a coffee with a splash of Irish persuasion. Ironic, as alcohol seemed to have no true effect on his fabricated biology. His eyes never left the gaze of Barnes, already enthralled with what he had to say.
And so it was then that Edgar learned of the boy in quesiton. While the origin of this patient's residency was "mundane" in the broad strokes of murder, it even reminded him of his own- the original Poe's work, there was something to the agent's expression that added depth and intrigue.
There was no bluffing, or acting that could portray such a pale shade such as Agent Barnes' in that very moment. Sickly, a sheen of sweat, a heaviness in the eyes of an emotional burden. This was a man that has seen evil in the flesh.
After sipping his coffee, Edgar laced his fingers together and leaned in with a slightly unsettling smile as Barnes painted the scenery.
"That does sound rather... Relaxing, Mr. Barnes. There is something to be said about a lonesome road, and the solace that can be found in such symbolism." He took another sip, checking his pocket watch. "And for that, Agent, I would be happy to oblige your request. After all, I think we can all relate to the need to not feel mad. As I last checked, an Agent has the means of access at all hours of the evening to such a facility... So why bother dallying, hm?"