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Inner Darkness, Outward Bound

Written by Nitrinoxus, Jonas Belford and Throne Zwei

Edited and Formatted by Nitrinoxus

Chapter 1

The rhythmic clacking of keys filled the air of the living room, the repetitive tap-tap-tap a sound indication of the creativity at work on the weathered blue couch. Mark sat atop the center cushion, laptop on his knees and a bottle of cola resting on the stained cement floor at his feet, fingers drumming across the keys with surgical precision; as was customary for his after-class hours, he was hard at work on another piece of writing, a collaboration between himself and a close friend of his -- on this particular day, that was Throne Zwei, a chum he'd met through mutual relations and had been writing with ever since.

The tapping of his fingers sped up as he progressed through his post. As was typical of the two-man collaborations between himself and Zwei, the shaggy youth at the keyboard was juggling a few different characters for the story; one of those characters, for whom he was currently pounding away at the keys, was a villainous demon named Vyce. Vyce had become something of a group favorite, a sadistic sociopath that both Mark and his cowriters agreed to be the crowning achievement of his personal rogues' gallery. His typing halted, his middle finger drifting across the keyboard and drumming the Backspace key a few times before returning to the sentence at hand; with a casual flourish, he tapped the Enter key, sending his post off to Zwei, then copy-pasted it into a waiting document just behind the Steam window. 'How's that look?' he typed, speaking the words as he did so on instinct.

There was a minute or two of no activity on the other end, before the response came from his friend. '...very nice. I'm impressed!' The two had been working on this particular story for a while, and the late hour was testament to the amount of work they'd poured into it. A few moments later, an additional response came through into the window. 'Seems like a good point to stop for the night - want to do the finale with a clear head. Excellent work!'

'And you!' Mark typed, grinning as he saved their progress. 'Ciao, man!'

'Ciao!' And with that, his friend logged off for the night - being on the East Coast ensured he was usually the first to break from the writing. Still, he would go to sleep that night already planning his next move and hoping that others would enjoy reading it as much as he'd enjoyed working on it.

Mark chuckled, clicking out of the Steam chatroom. He was about to shut his computer for the night and retire to his room for some well-deserved rest, but as his hand reached for the top of the screen, his computer beeped. He looked at the screen, surprised to see a new chat window had popped up in Steam... and even more surprised to see that it had been sent by a user named Vyce. 'Have a nice chat session with Zwei, Mark?' the window read.

Mark gulped. This was too weird...

Beep. 'Hardly. I ought to know what you two did... I was there, remember?'

Steeling his nerves and taking a breath, Mark began typing. 'Who are you?'

'You know who I am.'

'I know you're pretending to be one of my characters.'

'Who said anything about pretending, Mark?'

'...You're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination, brought on by a lack of sleep. I'm probably not even talking to you right now. This has to be a dream.'

'Don't kid yourself,' Vyce typed. '...But if you want me to...'

Suddenly, Mark's viewpoint dropped, his clothes suddenly turning baggy as his frame shrank; his limbs grew shorter and pudgier, his face losing its beard and regaining its long-lost baby fat as his shoulder-length brown hair shortened and lightened into light yellow wisps. As his regression slowed, his clothes began to shift, his black tent of a shirt lightening and stretching into a pair of navy-blue footie pajamas; he looked down his infantile body, shifting uncomfortably and cringing at the crinkle that emanated from the bulge around his posterior.

'Don't feel obliged to reply,' Vyce taunted through the chat, the beep drawing the months-old Mark's gaze back to the computer. 'I'm sure you've got as much control over those adorable hands of yours as you do over your bladder.' Mark winced at the thought, but before he could focus on it any further, the demon continued. 'Anyway, without being there I can't make that form permanent -- in fact, it'll probably wear off before I finish another sentence -- but I'd hope this has given you enough evidence that I'm not just your sleep-deprived imagination playing a prank on you. I'm real, Mark.'

Sure enough, Mark's body was soon ballooning back to its former dimensions, his clothes regaining their original size and color as if nothing had happened. Mark sighed; it had happened, though. 'Okay, fine, you're real. What do you want?' he typed.

"I want out." This time, Vyce hadn't sent a message through Steam; his voice was seeping through the laptop's speakers, dark and menacing as Mark had imagined it. "I want out, and I'm going to get out... because you're going to help me, whether you like it or not."

Without a word, Mark slid his cursor across the chatroom, pulled down the menu, and clicked on the item that read 'Block All Communication'; instantly, Vyce's icon went red, and the chat ended with the grace of a train wreck. He leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. "...That's over..."

"Wanna bet?"

Mark's eyes widened, darting across the room. There, in the black expanse of the powerless TV screen across the room, reclined on the couch where Mark's reflection should've been, was the dark-clad, black-furred demon he'd been conversing with, his four wings sprawled lazily across the couch and his burning red eyes giving the collegiate a smug look. "You're not gonna get away from me, buddy. Like I told you, you're gonna help me to get out whether you like it or not." He lifted his left arm -- his right, but the reflection made it appear as his left; the heavy golden gauntlet that covered his black-furred arm glinted in the light of the mirrored CFLs overhead, the large red gem on the back of its hand gleaming with an inner light of its own.

Against the will of its master, Mark's right arm raised in mimicry of Vyce's, its movements mirroring the reflection's instead of the other way around. As he watched, horrified, the air around his arm thickened and solidified, turning cold and solid as a gauntlet encompassed his skin, hovering in the same space as the reflection that it now matched; the arm beneath the metal tensed and swelled with strength, a coat of pitch-black fur growing out over his flesh as his arm grew to fit the gauntlet and its reflection. "No! Stop!" Mark begged, suddenly fully aware of what was happening.

"Not a chance," Vyce smirked, his gauntlet-clad arm moving to his face; Mark's matching gauntlet did the same, moving and acting as though the changing youth was the reflection. With a glow and an intense stretching sensation, Mark's head shifted and altered, his face drawing out into a black-furred muzzle as his ears stretched outwards and a pair of thick golden horns curved out of his skull. "Now keep quiet," the demon said, his voice drifting out of Mark's newly formed muzzle instead of its increasingly accurate reflection. "Just enjoy the show."

Robbed of his voice, all Mark could do was look on helplessly as his body continued to change. The ebon fur obscured his flesh, his muscles bulking with power as vicious claws replaced his nails; his spine pulled out into a slender tail tipped with a wicked blade, while a quartet of wide, pteropine wings shredded his shirt and exposed his muscular chest. As his eyes turned red and his mind began to fade, he felt his gauntlet lift again. The world went black...

...and suddenly, he could see again. He was sitting where he had been before, staring straight at the reflected Vyce... no, something was different. Vyce's gauntlet was on the right side now, but it should've been on the left... His gaze drifted idly, eyes stopping and widening when they fell on his left arm, clad in Vyce's gauntlet.

Through the reflection, Vyce grinned. "I'm out... and you're in."

Mark leapt up, hardly questioning how he was moving independently of Vyce as he slammed against the reflection's boundary. "Turn me back! Please, turn me back!"

"You're in no position to demand anything," Vyce replied, calmly rising from the couch and stepping up to his reflection. "You see... you're not real."

Mark was stunned. "...What...?"

"Before, I was your unconscious mind," Vyce explained simply, the energies of his gauntlet writhing through the shredded remains of Mark's outfit and reforming them into the demon's long black coat and pants; within a split second, the same outfit had been reflected onto the newly-demonic Mark. "You were the real one. But now I'm real... and so, somebody has to replace me as being the imaginary one of us." He grinned malevolently, tapping the barrier between them. "I'll give you one guess who that is."

Mark fell back, eyes wide and ears flat. "...no..."

"Oh yes," the demon chuckled, stepping away from the TV. "You're a figment of my imagination now, kid. And I think it's time I reimagined you..."

XXX

The day had gone by at a crawl, not helped by the fact that Sam - better known as Zwei to his online friends - had borne a recent disappointment with his job. Still, the thought of being able to finish the story he'd been working on with his friend had given him some cautious optimism that things were going to improve somewhat. Once his computer had finished booting up and the youth settled in his chair, he logged onto Steam, relieved to find that his friend was already on and waiting. Grinning, he opened up the chat window. "Heya! Sorry to just jump right into things, but you up for picking up where we left off? Day hasn't been favoring me, and I need the distraction."

The reply came surprisingly quickly: "Sure, sure. But before we get started, I had something I wanted to send your way. You mind?"

"Not at all. Send away - you have my e-mail, right?"

"Sure do. I'll send it your way now."

Sam nodded as he popped open his e-mail and swiftly located the e-mail and file. Curiously, it was labeled NOX.exe - he'd never thought his friend would just label something thusly, but a quick virus scan showed nothing harmful. A quick download later, he double-clicked on the icon, before typing in the window. "What's it supposed to be, anyhow?"

Before a reply could appear on-screen, a plume of black smoke erupted from the computer's USB jack, rushing around the chair and condensing on the floor next to Sam; as he watched, the smoke solidified into a small, vaguely humanoid shape kneeling on the ground, a thick mane of shaggy, ill-kempt hair rolling down across his raggedy clothes. The creature gazed up across a bestial muzzle, a sad look in its dull grey eyes. "...I'm sorry, Zwei..." he muttered, a thread of brilliant red energy rising from his back and forming into a glowing rune in the air.

In a flash, the room fell away, and another swiftly replaced it. Dark red walls and obsidian pillars lined the large space Sam found himself in, large flames blazing atop macabre torches lining the walls; gold and silver accented the dark feel of the room, from the trim on the pillars to the bulk of the throne set in the chamber's center. Atop the throne, his four wings spread wide and a wicked grin spread across his muzzle, was Vyce. "Glad you could make it, Sam... or should I call you 'Zwei'?"

"V...Vyce? What the hell is going on? Am I seeing things?" He'd barely had time to consider the fact that the odd figure seemed to know who he was before he'd been torn somewhere else... somewhere that looked like it was straight out of one of the stories he'd been working on with Nox. And the fact that he was looking right at Vyce chilled him to the bone. The demon seemed just as sadistic as he'd been described.

Vyce chuckled darkly. "You're not hallucinating, if that's what you mean. I'm here, you're here..." With a smoky swirl, the odd imp from before reappeared in the room, a thick golden collar clasped around his neck. "And now he's here," Vyce added, waving his clawed hand down at the creature. "Your task was completed?"

The small chimera cringed, looking woefully up at Sam. "...Yes, Master... it is done..."

"Very good, Nox," Vyce smirked.

"Th... that's my friend? What did you DO to him? And what did you have him do?" Sam scrabbled backwards in fear - from the looks the small chimera was giving him, it didn't seem like it entirely enjoyed what it was doing... and if his suspicions were right, there was just enough of his friend in the imp to know what was going on... but not enough to be able to stop it.

"Oh, he's not your friend anymore," Vyce grinned wickedly. "He's a figment of my imagination given physical form through my power. As for what he did..." He looked down at Nox. "Nox, tell your 'friend' what you did."

The chimera shrank into himself. "...I... I erased... every trace of your existence..." he admitted quietly. "You... don't exist... I-I'm sorry..."

"No you're not," Vyce corrected. "I told you to do it, and you did it because you wanted to. Isn't that right?"

Silence.

"Isn't it?"

"...Yes... Master..."

"Erased my existence? Th... that's not possible...somebody's got to remember who I am... right?"

"Well, you tell me," Vyce said smugly. "What's your name?"

The youth raised a finger as if to place importance on his name, but his mind came up blank. "It's... it's.... why can't I remember? I know I have a name!"

"Do you?" The demon's grin widened. "Maybe you just imagined that you did."

"But... I know I do... I know I've written stories... you did this to me! Why?"

"Because he wanted out."

"Who's he?"

"Poor human... he meant me. Or have you forgotten that tale already too?"

The youth looked around before his gaze locked onto a mirror covered in runes and what looked like various scenes of unpleasant goings on. But instead of his own reflection, something else stared back at him. What could only be called a demonic, almost draconic, vulture smirked at him, a powerful pair of pteropine wings folded against its back while a serpentine tail flicked idly about behind it. The ash-grey scales covering the demon's body were covered in glowing golden runes, and the ram-like horns curling out from his head glinted like gold, almost distracting him from the razor sharp talons.

"O...Oculus?"

"Ah, good, you remember his name," Vyce grinned. "Not that you'll be able to say it for much longer, anyway. After all, Nox here was in your position just this morning, and now he calls me 'Master'."

"N... no... I made him up! He can't be..."

"Real? Heh... I am real... I'm you! Don't you get it? I'm everything you want to forget about. Your temper, your envy of things, your.... well... you get the picture, don't you? All that unpleasantness you typed out had to come from somewhere within... and now I'll just be taking my rightful place. But don't worry! I'll make sure I think of something suitable for you."

The vulture snickered as he made a few arcane-looking gestures, the grin only getting wider as the youth's skin began to flake off at an alarming pace, replaced by the scales that were Oculus's, the runes inscribed on his body snaking their way over the changing youth's, powerful muscles brushing aside what humanity he had. And soon, he found his arms moving of their own accord, the demon in the mirror moving as if he was controlling a puppet, willing his soon-to-be-body to trace more runes on. His chest swelled with muscles as the massive pair of wings broke through his shirt, which crumbled to ash, while a series of runes hovering in mid-air fell into place as a tail was pulled out bit by bit, as if someone was grabbing hold of it; soon the new appendage was curled against his feet, tracing the arcane symbols on as well, his feet and legs turning into powerful, scaled versions of themselves, all glowing with an eldritch power.

"No! Don't do..."

His words were cut off as his right hand, tipped with talons, slowly moved from one side to the other, leaving a trail of blasphemous symbols that caused his face to push out into a fierce-looking beak, which then moved of its own accord, Oculus's voice coming out.

"Tut tut... you aren't real, remember? Figments of the imagination don't get to make demands. Now... where was I? Ah... yes."

A dark chuckle preceded the almost-demon inscribing words that likely should never have been written in the air, smirking as the same horns curled out of his skull as his ears shrank away, leaving the mirror image of the demon sobbing as the real one laughed.

"There we go! All nice and improved!"

Vyce clapped loudly. "Nicely done, Oculus! Really, I couldn't've done better myself." He grinned. "But surely he doesn't deserve a form like yours. Perhaps a different one is in order?"

"Oh yes... he really doesn't deserve to look that good. But what indeed..." The infernal bird seemed to ponder for a moment before snapping his fingers and grinning nastily. "Perhaps the... other side of the coin?"

With a snap of his fingers, the image in the mirror fell out, his forward movement stopping as his muscles began to atrophy away, soon becoming weak and insignificant compared to Oculus's own. He began to shrink down from the demon's imposing 6'4 to just barely over 4 feet tall, thin as a rail with wings too weak to be of use for even gliding, much less flight. Bands of black metal manifested around the sickly figure's neck, wrists and ankles as it looked up at the mage, voice barely more than a whisper, eyes dull, but just barely concealing the glimmer of intellect screaming that this was wrong.

"....yes... Master?"

Nox turned away. ...no...

Vyce laughed. "Excellent! Now, even a wretched twig like that needs a name. Not one so magnificent as yours, of course, Oculus, but surely something more than 'you'. Don't you think?"

"Oh, agreed... and I was thinking... oh... Caecus. The fool was blind to not see how much better this is... so it's rather fitting, wouldn't you think? Eh, Caecus?"

"You... are right..."

Vyce grinned. "A brilliant choice," he said, standing up from his throne. "Now that that's taken care of, I think we have some planning to do... where to go, what to do, etcetera etcetera. And that's best done without any servants snooping about."

Oculus nodded lazily as he pointed to a far corner of the room, chuckling. "Of course. Caecus, remove yourself from my sight. I do not want to... heh... see you until I feel like looking upon a waste of flesh. Do I make myself clear?"

The desiccated husk of a creature nodded as it shakily stood and began walking to where the winged magi had pointed; the youth so desperately wanted to spit in the demon's face, but he couldn't resist. Whatever had been done... he had no choice but to do as he was ordered.

Vyce looked down at Nox. "Nox, go with him. I'll call if I need you."

Nox nodded, slinking off after Caecus.

As the duo stopped in the corner, the room fell away, then reformed into what they could only assume was another part of the demons' twisted castle. The small, door- and windowless chamber was drab and oppressive, lit only by a single candle set on the small wooden table; straw mats draped with ragged cloths served as beds, rounding off the bleak setting in which they found themselves.

Nox couldn't even bring himself to look at Caecus as he crept onto the bed closest to where he stood. "...I'm so sorry..."

"It's... not your fault... when... he tells me what to do... I can't stop myself. My body won't do what I want..." Slowly, gingerly, Caecus moved onto the bed closest to him. He felt so tired, so exhausted from even the slightest exertion.

Nox nodded. "Mast-- he's the same way," he said, spitting out the word 'he' as though it tasted foul. "I don't understand... How did he appear...? He shouldn't even be real!"

"I... don't know... shouldn't be possible... but.... we shouldn't... t-t-t-ta..." The runes on the collar flared to life before he could even choke out the rebellious words. Oculus was nothing if not thorough in his magics, it seemed. "...damn it... how could something so twisted be real..."

Nox slumped onto the straw mattress, pulling his raggedy clothes tighter around his bestial form. "...because we made them that way..." he muttered. "We created them to be perfectly evil... and now they're free to do whatever they want."

Caecus briefly considered tugging the bands off, but a quick flare-up from the runes discouraged it. "...what do they want to do, anyhow..." As he pulled the ragged covers over his body, he wondered how things had gone so wrong.

Nox closed his eyes, resolving to try and get some sleep while he could -- knowing Vyce as he did, he wasn't sure how often he'd get to rest. "...I don't know what they want... but I don't think we can stop them..." He shuddered. "Try to get some sleep, Cae... we'll need all the strength we can muster..."

"Right... try to sleep well, Nox..." Caecus closed his eyes, finding the almost constant exhaustion to be a surprisingly good aid to falling asleep, though he knew Oculus would probably not allow him to rest often.

Description
Inner Darkness, Outward Bound

Written by Nitrinoxus, Jonas Belford and Throne Zwei

Edited and Formatted by Nitrinoxus

Chapter 1

The rhythmic clacking of keys filled the air of the living room, the repetitive tap-tap-tap a sound indication of the creativity at work on the weathered blue couch. Mark sat atop the center cushion, laptop on his knees and a bottle of cola resting on the stained cement floor at his feet, fingers drumming across the keys with surgical precision; as was customary for his after-class hours, he was hard at work on another piece of writing, a collaboration between himself and a close friend of his -- on this particular day, that was Throne Zwei, a chum he'd met through mutual relations and had been writing with ever since.

The tapping of his fingers sped up as he progressed through his post. As was typical of the two-man collaborations between himself and Zwei, the shaggy youth at the keyboard was juggling a few different characters for the story; one of those characters, for whom he was currently pounding away at the keys, was a villainous demon named Vyce. Vyce had become something of a group favorite, a sadistic sociopath that both Mark and his cowriters agreed to be the crowning achievement of his personal rogues' gallery. His typing halted, his middle finger drifting across the keyboard and drumming the Backspace key a few times before returning to the sentence at hand; with a casual flourish, he tapped the Enter key, sending his post off to Zwei, then copy-pasted it into a waiting document just behind the Steam window. 'How's that look?' he typed, speaking the words as he did so on instinct.

There was a minute or two of no activity on the other end, before the response came from his friend. '...very nice. I'm impressed!' The two had been working on this particular story for a while, and the late hour was testament to the amount of work they'd poured into it. A few moments later, an additional response came through into the window. 'Seems like a good point to stop for the night - want to do the finale with a clear head. Excellent work!'

'And you!' Mark typed, grinning as he saved their progress. 'Ciao, man!'

'Ciao!' And with that, his friend logged off for the night - being on the East Coast ensured he was usually the first to break from the writing. Still, he would go to sleep that night already planning his next move and hoping that others would enjoy reading it as much as he'd enjoyed working on it.

Mark chuckled, clicking out of the Steam chatroom. He was about to shut his computer for the night and retire to his room for some well-deserved rest, but as his hand reached for the top of the screen, his computer beeped. He looked at the screen, surprised to see a new chat window had popped up in Steam... and even more surprised to see that it had been sent by a user named Vyce. 'Have a nice chat session with Zwei, Mark?' the window read.

Mark gulped. This was too weird...

Beep. 'Hardly. I ought to know what you two did... I was there, remember?'

Steeling his nerves and taking a breath, Mark began typing. 'Who are you?'

'You know who I am.'

'I know you're pretending to be one of my characters.'

'Who said anything about pretending, Mark?'

'...You're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination, brought on by a lack of sleep. I'm probably not even talking to you right now. This has to be a dream.'

'Don't kid yourself,' Vyce typed. '...But if you want me to...'

Suddenly, Mark's viewpoint dropped, his clothes suddenly turning baggy as his frame shrank; his limbs grew shorter and pudgier, his face losing its beard and regaining its long-lost baby fat as his shoulder-length brown hair shortened and lightened into light yellow wisps. As his regression slowed, his clothes began to shift, his black tent of a shirt lightening and stretching into a pair of navy-blue footie pajamas; he looked down his infantile body, shifting uncomfortably and cringing at the crinkle that emanated from the bulge around his posterior.

'Don't feel obliged to reply,' Vyce taunted through the chat, the beep drawing the months-old Mark's gaze back to the computer. 'I'm sure you've got as much control over those adorable hands of yours as you do over your bladder.' Mark winced at the thought, but before he could focus on it any further, the demon continued. 'Anyway, without being there I can't make that form permanent -- in fact, it'll probably wear off before I finish another sentence -- but I'd hope this has given you enough evidence that I'm not just your sleep-deprived imagination playing a prank on you. I'm real, Mark.'

Sure enough, Mark's body was soon ballooning back to its former dimensions, his clothes regaining their original size and color as if nothing had happened. Mark sighed; it had happened, though. 'Okay, fine, you're real. What do you want?' he typed.

"I want out." This time, Vyce hadn't sent a message through Steam; his voice was seeping through the laptop's speakers, dark and menacing as Mark had imagined it. "I want out, and I'm going to get out... because you're going to help me, whether you like it or not."

Without a word, Mark slid his cursor across the chatroom, pulled down the menu, and clicked on the item that read 'Block All Communication'; instantly, Vyce's icon went red, and the chat ended with the grace of a train wreck. He leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. "...That's over..."

"Wanna bet?"

Mark's eyes widened, darting across the room. There, in the black expanse of the powerless TV screen across the room, reclined on the couch where Mark's reflection should've been, was the dark-clad, black-furred demon he'd been conversing with, his four wings sprawled lazily across the couch and his burning red eyes giving the collegiate a smug look. "You're not gonna get away from me, buddy. Like I told you, you're gonna help me to get out whether you like it or not." He lifted his left arm -- his right, but the reflection made it appear as his left; the heavy golden gauntlet that covered his black-furred arm glinted in the light of the mirrored CFLs overhead, the large red gem on the back of its hand gleaming with an inner light of its own.

Against the will of its master, Mark's right arm raised in mimicry of Vyce's, its movements mirroring the reflection's instead of the other way around. As he watched, horrified, the air around his arm thickened and solidified, turning cold and solid as a gauntlet encompassed his skin, hovering in the same space as the reflection that it now matched; the arm beneath the metal tensed and swelled with strength, a coat of pitch-black fur growing out over his flesh as his arm grew to fit the gauntlet and its reflection. "No! Stop!" Mark begged, suddenly fully aware of what was happening.

"Not a chance," Vyce smirked, his gauntlet-clad arm moving to his face; Mark's matching gauntlet did the same, moving and acting as though the changing youth was the reflection. With a glow and an intense stretching sensation, Mark's head shifted and altered, his face drawing out into a black-furred muzzle as his ears stretched outwards and a pair of thick golden horns curved out of his skull. "Now keep quiet," the demon said, his voice drifting out of Mark's newly formed muzzle instead of its increasingly accurate reflection. "Just enjoy the show."

Robbed of his voice, all Mark could do was look on helplessly as his body continued to change. The ebon fur obscured his flesh, his muscles bulking with power as vicious claws replaced his nails; his spine pulled out into a slender tail tipped with a wicked blade, while a quartet of wide, pteropine wings shredded his shirt and exposed his muscular chest. As his eyes turned red and his mind began to fade, he felt his gauntlet lift again. The world went black...

...and suddenly, he could see again. He was sitting where he had been before, staring straight at the reflected Vyce... no, something was different. Vyce's gauntlet was on the right side now, but it should've been on the left... His gaze drifted idly, eyes stopping and widening when they fell on his left arm, clad in Vyce's gauntlet.

Through the reflection, Vyce grinned. "I'm out... and you're in."

Mark leapt up, hardly questioning how he was moving independently of Vyce as he slammed against the reflection's boundary. "Turn me back! Please, turn me back!"

"You're in no position to demand anything," Vyce replied, calmly rising from the couch and stepping up to his reflection. "You see... you're not real."

Mark was stunned. "...What...?"

"Before, I was your unconscious mind," Vyce explained simply, the energies of his gauntlet writhing through the shredded remains of Mark's outfit and reforming them into the demon's long black coat and pants; within a split second, the same outfit had been reflected onto the newly-demonic Mark. "You were the real one. But now I'm real... and so, somebody has to replace me as being the imaginary one of us." He grinned malevolently, tapping the barrier between them. "I'll give you one guess who that is."

Mark fell back, eyes wide and ears flat. "...no..."

"Oh yes," the demon chuckled, stepping away from the TV. "You're a figment of my imagination now, kid. And I think it's time I reimagined you..."

XXX

The day had gone by at a crawl, not helped by the fact that Sam - better known as Zwei to his online friends - had borne a recent disappointment with his job. Still, the thought of being able to finish the story he'd been working on with his friend had given him some cautious optimism that things were going to improve somewhat. Once his computer had finished booting up and the youth settled in his chair, he logged onto Steam, relieved to find that his friend was already on and waiting. Grinning, he opened up the chat window. "Heya! Sorry to just jump right into things, but you up for picking up where we left off? Day hasn't been favoring me, and I need the distraction."

The reply came surprisingly quickly: "Sure, sure. But before we get started, I had something I wanted to send your way. You mind?"

"Not at all. Send away - you have my e-mail, right?"

"Sure do. I'll send it your way now."

Sam nodded as he popped open his e-mail and swiftly located the e-mail and file. Curiously, it was labeled NOX.exe - he'd never thought his friend would just label something thusly, but a quick virus scan showed nothing harmful. A quick download later, he double-clicked on the icon, before typing in the window. "What's it supposed to be, anyhow?"

Before a reply could appear on-screen, a plume of black smoke erupted from the computer's USB jack, rushing around the chair and condensing on the floor next to Sam; as he watched, the smoke solidified into a small, vaguely humanoid shape kneeling on the ground, a thick mane of shaggy, ill-kempt hair rolling down across his raggedy clothes. The creature gazed up across a bestial muzzle, a sad look in its dull grey eyes. "...I'm sorry, Zwei..." he muttered, a thread of brilliant red energy rising from his back and forming into a glowing rune in the air.

In a flash, the room fell away, and another swiftly replaced it. Dark red walls and obsidian pillars lined the large space Sam found himself in, large flames blazing atop macabre torches lining the walls; gold and silver accented the dark feel of the room, from the trim on the pillars to the bulk of the throne set in the chamber's center. Atop the throne, his four wings spread wide and a wicked grin spread across his muzzle, was Vyce. "Glad you could make it, Sam... or should I call you 'Zwei'?"

"V...Vyce? What the hell is going on? Am I seeing things?" He'd barely had time to consider the fact that the odd figure seemed to know who he was before he'd been torn somewhere else... somewhere that looked like it was straight out of one of the stories he'd been working on with Nox. And the fact that he was looking right at Vyce chilled him to the bone. The demon seemed just as sadistic as he'd been described.

Vyce chuckled darkly. "You're not hallucinating, if that's what you mean. I'm here, you're here..." With a smoky swirl, the odd imp from before reappeared in the room, a thick golden collar clasped around his neck. "And now he's here," Vyce added, waving his clawed hand down at the creature. "Your task was completed?"

The small chimera cringed, looking woefully up at Sam. "...Yes, Master... it is done..."

"Very good, Nox," Vyce smirked.

"Th... that's my friend? What did you DO to him? And what did you have him do?" Sam scrabbled backwards in fear - from the looks the small chimera was giving him, it didn't seem like it entirely enjoyed what it was doing... and if his suspicions were right, there was just enough of his friend in the imp to know what was going on... but not enough to be able to stop it.

"Oh, he's not your friend anymore," Vyce grinned wickedly. "He's a figment of my imagination given physical form through my power. As for what he did..." He looked down at Nox. "Nox, tell your 'friend' what you did."

The chimera shrank into himself. "...I... I erased... every trace of your existence..." he admitted quietly. "You... don't exist... I-I'm sorry..."

"No you're not," Vyce corrected. "I told you to do it, and you did it because you wanted to. Isn't that right?"

Silence.

"Isn't it?"

"...Yes... Master..."

"Erased my existence? Th... that's not possible...somebody's got to remember who I am... right?"

"Well, you tell me," Vyce said smugly. "What's your name?"

The youth raised a finger as if to place importance on his name, but his mind came up blank. "It's... it's.... why can't I remember? I know I have a name!"

"Do you?" The demon's grin widened. "Maybe you just imagined that you did."

"But... I know I do... I know I've written stories... you did this to me! Why?"

"Because he wanted out."

"Who's he?"

"Poor human... he meant me. Or have you forgotten that tale already too?"

The youth looked around before his gaze locked onto a mirror covered in runes and what looked like various scenes of unpleasant goings on. But instead of his own reflection, something else stared back at him. What could only be called a demonic, almost draconic, vulture smirked at him, a powerful pair of pteropine wings folded against its back while a serpentine tail flicked idly about behind it. The ash-grey scales covering the demon's body were covered in glowing golden runes, and the ram-like horns curling out from his head glinted like gold, almost distracting him from the razor sharp talons.

"O...Oculus?"

"Ah, good, you remember his name," Vyce grinned. "Not that you'll be able to say it for much longer, anyway. After all, Nox here was in your position just this morning, and now he calls me 'Master'."

"N... no... I made him up! He can't be..."

"Real? Heh... I am real... I'm you! Don't you get it? I'm everything you want to forget about. Your temper, your envy of things, your.... well... you get the picture, don't you? All that unpleasantness you typed out had to come from somewhere within... and now I'll just be taking my rightful place. But don't worry! I'll make sure I think of something suitable for you."

The vulture snickered as he made a few arcane-looking gestures, the grin only getting wider as the youth's skin began to flake off at an alarming pace, replaced by the scales that were Oculus's, the runes inscribed on his body snaking their way over the changing youth's, powerful muscles brushing aside what humanity he had. And soon, he found his arms moving of their own accord, the demon in the mirror moving as if he was controlling a puppet, willing his soon-to-be-body to trace more runes on. His chest swelled with muscles as the massive pair of wings broke through his shirt, which crumbled to ash, while a series of runes hovering in mid-air fell into place as a tail was pulled out bit by bit, as if someone was grabbing hold of it; soon the new appendage was curled against his feet, tracing the arcane symbols on as well, his feet and legs turning into powerful, scaled versions of themselves, all glowing with an eldritch power.

"No! Don't do..."

His words were cut off as his right hand, tipped with talons, slowly moved from one side to the other, leaving a trail of blasphemous symbols that caused his face to push out into a fierce-looking beak, which then moved of its own accord, Oculus's voice coming out.

"Tut tut... you aren't real, remember? Figments of the imagination don't get to make demands. Now... where was I? Ah... yes."

A dark chuckle preceded the almost-demon inscribing words that likely should never have been written in the air, smirking as the same horns curled out of his skull as his ears shrank away, leaving the mirror image of the demon sobbing as the real one laughed.

"There we go! All nice and improved!"

Vyce clapped loudly. "Nicely done, Oculus! Really, I couldn't've done better myself." He grinned. "But surely he doesn't deserve a form like yours. Perhaps a different one is in order?"

"Oh yes... he really doesn't deserve to look that good. But what indeed..." The infernal bird seemed to ponder for a moment before snapping his fingers and grinning nastily. "Perhaps the... other side of the coin?"

With a snap of his fingers, the image in the mirror fell out, his forward movement stopping as his muscles began to atrophy away, soon becoming weak and insignificant compared to Oculus's own. He began to shrink down from the demon's imposing 6'4 to just barely over 4 feet tall, thin as a rail with wings too weak to be of use for even gliding, much less flight. Bands of black metal manifested around the sickly figure's neck, wrists and ankles as it looked up at the mage, voice barely more than a whisper, eyes dull, but just barely concealing the glimmer of intellect screaming that this was wrong.

"....yes... Master?"

Nox turned away. ...no...

Vyce laughed. "Excellent! Now, even a wretched twig like that needs a name. Not one so magnificent as yours, of course, Oculus, but surely something more than 'you'. Don't you think?"

"Oh, agreed... and I was thinking... oh... Caecus. The fool was blind to not see how much better this is... so it's rather fitting, wouldn't you think? Eh, Caecus?"

"You... are right..."

Vyce grinned. "A brilliant choice," he said, standing up from his throne. "Now that that's taken care of, I think we have some planning to do... where to go, what to do, etcetera etcetera. And that's best done without any servants snooping about."

Oculus nodded lazily as he pointed to a far corner of the room, chuckling. "Of course. Caecus, remove yourself from my sight. I do not want to... heh... see you until I feel like looking upon a waste of flesh. Do I make myself clear?"

The desiccated husk of a creature nodded as it shakily stood and began walking to where the winged magi had pointed; the youth so desperately wanted to spit in the demon's face, but he couldn't resist. Whatever had been done... he had no choice but to do as he was ordered.

Vyce looked down at Nox. "Nox, go with him. I'll call if I need you."

Nox nodded, slinking off after Caecus.

As the duo stopped in the corner, the room fell away, then reformed into what they could only assume was another part of the demons' twisted castle. The small, door- and windowless chamber was drab and oppressive, lit only by a single candle set on the small wooden table; straw mats draped with ragged cloths served as beds, rounding off the bleak setting in which they found themselves.

Nox couldn't even bring himself to look at Caecus as he crept onto the bed closest to where he stood. "...I'm so sorry..."

"It's... not your fault... when... he tells me what to do... I can't stop myself. My body won't do what I want..." Slowly, gingerly, Caecus moved onto the bed closest to him. He felt so tired, so exhausted from even the slightest exertion.

Nox nodded. "Mast-- he's the same way," he said, spitting out the word 'he' as though it tasted foul. "I don't understand... How did he appear...? He shouldn't even be real!"

"I... don't know... shouldn't be possible... but.... we shouldn't... t-t-t-ta..." The runes on the collar flared to life before he could even choke out the rebellious words. Oculus was nothing if not thorough in his magics, it seemed. "...damn it... how could something so twisted be real..."

Nox slumped onto the straw mattress, pulling his raggedy clothes tighter around his bestial form. "...because we made them that way..." he muttered. "We created them to be perfectly evil... and now they're free to do whatever they want."

Caecus briefly considered tugging the bands off, but a quick flare-up from the runes discouraged it. "...what do they want to do, anyhow..." As he pulled the ragged covers over his body, he wondered how things had gone so wrong.

Nox closed his eyes, resolving to try and get some sleep while he could -- knowing Vyce as he did, he wasn't sure how often he'd get to rest. "...I don't know what they want... but I don't think we can stop them..." He shuddered. "Try to get some sleep, Cae... we'll need all the strength we can muster..."

"Right... try to sleep well, Nox..." Caecus closed his eyes, finding the almost constant exhaustion to be a surprisingly good aid to falling asleep, though he knew Oculus would probably not allow him to rest often.