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James wasn't sure if this was the best thing to happen or the worst. On the one hand, he finally met a possibly competent person, an intelligent person, one who surely had some clue of what was going on with this town. On the other hand, he was a government agent. The highest authority he ever met in his life, other than the royal court back in Glenn's world. He kept his gun trained on him, the agent keeping his hands in the air waiting for a move to be made. His suit was not in particularly good condition, his red fur now dull with years of service, and his eyes were a little glazed. Despite his dishevelled look, the detective was sharp enough to notice: "You're not a cop, are you kid?" "W-why you say that?! Course I am!" "Then you can tell me your badge number so I can verify." "I don't have it on me right now!" "Heh, a real cop would know it by heart." "U-uhhh I'm new on the force, now just keep your hands in the air!" "I'm just talking with you is all. No need to shout. I am however looking for someone, if you can help." "Uh huh? Who exactly?" "A girl called Tara Freeman. We've been searching for her ever since she disappeared from her home a week ago." "Is she in trouble?" "No no. She's just...quite ill, and we need to find her before she gets seriously hurt." Despite the apparent sincerity from Gregson, James kept his suspicions up, gun still trained on him as he asked one more question, just to feel better about the whole thing. Or rather two questions. He never met the FBI, and as such, he had no idea of what their standard procedure was. He was guessing that the detective had already sussed the fact that he wasn't even a cop. "Why are the FBI involved in finding some girl?" "She's a relative of...someone very important. That's as much as I can say unfortunately. Do you know where she is?" "She was in Woodside Apartments," confessed James, "I can't remember the room number but it was on the ground floor, on the right part of the building." "Mmhmm...thank you. So uh...are you gonna put that down now?" "Hmm? OH uh yeah I guess I...should."

He slowly drew his gun away and put it back into his satchel, no longer identifying the detective as a threat as he introduced himself. "Kinda glad you're here, finally someone who can make some sense of what's going on here. I'm James Campbell." "What seems to be the problem?" Gregson didn't push further on the impersonating of an authority figure the raptor just did. "Well I just landed in town and well...I dunno what the hell's been going on, I've been trying to leave but all the roads are closed off and...there's monsters all over the place." "Monsters?" "Yeah, weird blind pig zombie things that try to beat the shit out of me, these choker zombies that try to fuckin' strangle me with their...tentacles? I dunno what, and then there's this freaky-ass motherfucker with a HUGE-ASS knife that-...uh...well he's real dangerous." Gregson didn't even blink an eye, as if he was used to such things. Then again, thought FG, he IS from the FBI, don't these guys all deal with the weirdest shit out there? Maybe this town's not even the first. "Where was this?" asked the detective. "The Woodside Apartments, out on the streets, even in this freaking hospital!" "I see. Do you have any relatives in town?" "No, I got lost and ended up here." "Hmmm...you're the second person to say that. Interesting." "Wait really?" "Yeah. Heh, this town reminds me of quite a few shows and movies I watch with my partner. Speaking of which, have you seen another FBI agent around here perhaps?" "Nnnnnope, sorry." "Damn. Well, thank you for your cooperation mister Campbell." "Uh, no problem." The agent pulled out the white stick in his mouth, revealing itself to be a red lollipop, briefly checking how much was left before popping it back in his mouth with a chuckle. He soon pulled out a notebook and began to note down various details from what James had told him, rather casually. "Any reason you're in this...dilapidated hospital, James?" "I was trying to get away from the monsters, looking for a place to hide. Also a girl told me to come here as a place I could find some help." "A girl?" "Yeah, her name's Luisa, she lives down uh...uhhhh...I forgot the street name, but it's a huge building if you go...right from here to the end of the road?" "Right...well, thank you again for your assistance Mr. Campbell." "No problem...sir." James had to restrain himself from blushing at being addressed to in such a polite manner. Gregson noticed with a smirk and waved the title off. "Please, just call me Zack. That's what everyone else calls me." "Alrigh-...wait...Zack? Heeeeeey I saw your name in the register downstairs!" "Ahh, well, thought it only polite, even in a place like this." "Right...where did you go, I didn't see you at all when I came in." "I was checking the third floor and the roof, I already checked the rest of the floors. Only thing left is the basement, but I can't seem to find a way in." "A basement?" "Yep. The way this place is denotes a basement but none of the elevators go to it, and no stairs are accessible to it. Probably condemned beyond the point of repair." "Huh...well uh..."

James was now unsure of what to do, or even ask. The detective seemed to be pretty knowledgeable of the surrounding area, which brought him to ask another question. A question that even though Luisa had answered, he wanted to hear a more official statement of. "So what DID happen to this town then, sir?" "There was a cult here," said Gregson as he pulled the lollipop from his mouth to speak more freely. "Trying to revive some old satanic god through a mixture of ritualistic sacrifices and a lot of drugs. Their influence is still felt today." "Wait, they're still around?" "Oh no, not the cult, least as far as we know, I mean the drugs. Didn't you feel it in the air? This whole town's covered in it. Causes some strange reactions in some folk. White Dahlia I believe was the name of it." "So...all this fog is just...one big drug trip?" "More or less. This town is condemned for that very reason." "But Luisa told me she'd been living here for ages!" "Hmm..." Zack walked up towards the raptor with a look of concern, the kind a father would give to his confused son on the verge of peer pressure. Not angry, not suspicious, but merely concerned. "Are you sure you met her?" "Y-yeah I'm sure! I felt her...I held her hand and everything." "Alright. I advise you to be careful however. This place loves to play tricks on a weak mind." "I'm not weak!" James felt slightly insulted as he snarled slightly. "I'm tough! I've handled plenty of shit, I can handle it!" "Alright alright, no need to prove it James. I'm just warning you...wouldn't want this to end up like Rec. Did you ever see that movie?" "Uhhh...nope." "You should, it's a modern classic, least it should be. You know, I've always loved foreign movies, it's a Spanish movie you see." "Spanish huh? ...maybe Sarah would like it." "Sarah?" "She's a friend of mine, she's half-Spanish." "Ah, well, I won't spoil it then, but it's a damn good movie." If it even exists in my time, thought FG, I don't even know what the hell is with this place but it looks like one of Sarah's old movies, like 20th century stuff. Is this maybe the past? Did I get in a time warp and end up centuries ago? No that doesn't make sense, I've only seen anthros here, not humans. Anthros didn't exist back then right? That was after the nuclear war. "Well now," said Gregson, bringing James out of his thoughts. "I best be on my way. You'll be okay on your own, or you want to come with me?" "Uhhh if it's okay by you sir-" "Zack, please." "Right, Zack, I'd rather look around a li'l more, head to the upper floors and see if I can't find anything that'll help me." "Fair enough, long as you don't impede my investigation but you've already helped it. If you see Miss Freeman, tell her about me and that she needs to come home. But gently." "Uhh alright." "And if you see another agent around here, let him know I was here. He answers to York." "Right." "Good day." Detective Gregson headed back into the elevator to the first floor, leaving the raptor rather confused by the strange character. He was glad to meet such a pleasant and unabrasive governmental agent, but it confused him nonetheless. With nothing else left for him on this floor, other than the tumble dryer with the key inside, he headed up to the third floor via the elevator.

The third floor felt somehow darker than the previous floors, a subtle dim of the lights that he hadn't felt before. Upon this floor, out of the doors that were not broken on this floor were a store room, the stairway and the special treatment room. All of them were apparently locked. He hadn't noticed the stairway door before, the sign for it clearer than the previous floors as well as the fact it didn't have a broken lock. The door to the store room had a note pinned on it, which read: "Under no circumstances is Michael Dawson allowed inside" The raptor was curious as to why one patient was specifically targeted in such a way, and gently tried the handle. The door swung open without a hitch, completely unlocked. Nothing was inside the spacious storage other than several shelves with a healthy supply of both handgun and rifle bullets, as well as a few energy drinks. There was also a large ornate mirror. Pure glass within a bronze frame. A dumbfounded-looking raptor was reflected inside it, followed by the raptor facepalming. "You...what? ...Jesus Mike you are the stupidest fucking idiot ever...now I hope he IS dead." He had no reason to look further into the mirror, and simply took the ammo and drinks from the shelves before leaving, his satchel slightly swollen with a hearty inventory. He decided to head into the third floor's hallway of wards.

The corridor simply terrified him for how far it went, even with his flashlight illuminating things a lot better. Stretching much further than the last two floors, darkness drew somehow nearer to him and his light as he stood beside a few more abandoned gurneys. He was only more scared when the radio flickered with a weak chirruping of static the moment he stepped forwards. He slowly pulled out his handgun and walked forwards. In the far darkness ahead of him, was another Choker. He could hear the wheezing echo down the corridor towards him, but it was too far away for him to hit it accurately. He stepped closer, passing doors to his left, far more than they were before. S1, S2, S3. The radio turned louder as the Choker came into view. S6, S7, S8. Around S9, he was suddenly hit from behind by a mighty thwack from the alcove where the elevator and stairs were. A clumsy swing from a Blind Pig's baton sent him down on the floor, groaning at the burst of pain inside his head. He quickly tried to get up and back away, avoiding another swing from the zombie-thing's club before firing. They weren't a problem to James so long as he kept a good distance, but now the pain of his head throbbing from the hit made his aim more uncertain.

The Choker took this opportunity to stumble forwards with an increased pace, somehow sensing its prey's loss of perception. James did his best to aim and fire, missing the throbbing coil around the neck and winging it in the shoulder or head. It didn't stop, but he wasn't going to let it choke him. Waiting for it to lash out with its tentacle, he dodged into the alcove the Blind Pig was, and sweeped the monster's leg. It went down hard and skidded slightly on the floor, perfectly helpless for James to fire straight into the back of its throat and watch it choke in the agony of the dusty hospital air. He couldn't help himself from making a quip. "Should have stopped smoking sooner you fuckhead." With a shrug and a grin, he headed back down the hallway to investigate each and every door. S1 and S2 were broken, but S3 was not. The room was far smaller than the wards of the other floors, a narrow rectangular space with nothing but a bed, a window, and a small bedside cabinet. This room however had an intriguing item for him to take. A key with the word "S12" upon it. James simply pocketed it out of a growing habit before leaving. Rooms S4 to S7 were also broken, but S8 gave him quite a surprise. Someone was already inhabiting it. A white dog in a black-and-red dress, sleeping on top of the bed. "Luisa?!" "Hmm?" She gently looked up with a morning smile. "Ohhh, hey you. How's it going?" "How did you get in here? I didn't see anyone else." "I didn't see you until now when I got in, so how come I didn't see you?" "...uhhh kay." She smiled but didn't bother sitting up, groaning slightly as she put a hand to her forehead. He walked closer to her, trying to confirm she was really there. He still couldn't get over her entire form. "What are you doing here anyway?" "I needed some pills, I get these bad migraines and needed a refill." "...okay, you DO realise this place is abandoned and full of monsters right?" "It is?! Wh-where?!" "There was like TWO outside this fucking room, didn't you hear me shooting them!?" "N-no! I was...I must have been sleeping." Her words were uncertain, as if she herself couldn't comprehend what the raptor was saying. He was only more suspicious of her but he tried to ignore it and ask on other things. "Well, anyway, you need to get what you need and then get out of here." "I already got what I need sweetie." She pointed over to a small white bottle on the table. "Problem is, they tend to make me a li'l sleepy, real strong painkillers." "So judging by the fact nobody is here at all, you just steal them whenever you feel like it?" "Didn't you forget how we first met?" She smirked with bleary eyes, the pain in her head forcing her to squint. "Nnngh...first impressions are always the most important." "Hah, okay good point, but you really need to get out of here and get back home where you'll be safe." "Safe? You really think anyplace in this town is safe?" "What?" "Heheh...nothing." "You wanna come with me?" "Mmmm not right now sweetie. I need to rest a li'l. But...don't stray too far, okay?" "In case you need anything?" "Yeah...now that you mention those monsters, I'm...I'm a little scared." "It's okay. I won't leave you too long. I need to check the rest of this floor for some clues." "Clues? For what?" "...I don't know. I'll be back." With his own answer confusing him, the raptor left Luisa to sleep, and walked further along the corridor to check the other rooms. Rooms S9 to S11 were also broken, but 12 and 13 were not. S12 he of course had the key for, and he immediately unlocked it. Inside was a most peculiar sight. A blue cooler box sat on the bed, with a small anvil firmly on top of it. Two metal bars were bolted around the anvil itself, wedging it tightly against the lid to make it impossible to open, with a padlock around them just to make sure. A note had been left scribbled in front of it.

i made this special box now i know nobodyll get inside it nobody can ever open this box if they do theyll release their dark world self out maybe the guy who opens it might have a nice dark world but what if he doesnt? what if he has some kind of evil shapeshifter? i have to keep the world safe, he cant get to the roof the only way this can be opened is if they find the mirror and my clothes

"Oh for fuck's sake, is this that Dawson dipshit again? What the hell is this guy's problem? ...wait, mirror?" A light went on in his head and he decided to rush quickly back along the hallway to head back to the storeroom next to the elevator. The mirror was still there for him to examine more carefully. The frame itself was not suspect, and the glass was perfectly intact, though for some reason looking at it unnerved the raptor quite strongly. The mirror glass had a slight abnormality within it, a strange warping imperfection that offset everything ever so slightly. James couldn't help himself from staring at his own reflection, walking closer towards it. He was transfixed by it somehow, trying to tell what was off about it. The room slowly went out of focus around him as he stared more strongly at himself. The reflection was stoic like himself, curious green eyes scrutinising each other. But then the raptor in the mirror suddenly flashed a grin, bearing its vicious teeth at James.

A pair of scaly clawed hands suddenly shot out of the glass and lunged for James' throat. He barely had time to react as he tried to scream, choking hard at the surprising strength of the unknown hands. His own reflection grinned a vicious smile, eyes tightening to a manic level, the wrists pushing forwards to choke James even harder, pushing the claws upon his windpipe. He choked violently, forced onto his knees as the air was pushed out of him. His hands shook and spasmed, trying to fight him off, before one of them went for the satchel, struggling to pull out the handgun before his strength gave out. With a self-energising strangled roar, he fired at the mirror, shattering it into a dozen thick shards. The hands disappeared as soon as the shot had been fired. James filled his lungs up with air once again, bending over with a violent cough. His throat was tender when he rubbed it, causing him to dry heave a little as his body regained its composure. "Th-the fuck WAS that?! F-fucking...ggghhhhk...god...dammit. FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" He fired off his handgun at the mirror shards in a violent fit, blasting them into even smaller pieces until the clip ran empty, panting as he got his anger and fear out of him. He calmed down enough to reload his gun and further examined the remains of the mirror. Inside the frame itself however was a different story. He looked up at the top of the frame to see something had been wedged into the inlay. Another key, this time for a padlock. "Are you fucking serious?" He took it gently and put it into his satchel before leaving, rubbing his throat softly to reassure himself. Now he had to wonder the other part of the scribbled note, something about his clothes. The only place he could think of where clothes had been were the linen room. Then he remembered the shiny thing in the dryer. But how could he be able to open it? He went back to the hallway, deciding to let his mind tick over with ideas as he opened the last ward that was open. S13. A tape recorder was on the bedside table next to the bed, and nothing else. James was curious and decided to play it. Two voices started up on the tape. One was a panicky-sounding man, the other a completely professional woman with a strangely familiar accent.

"You know what it's like, to have your anger overpower your guilt?" "No I...please tell me doctor." "Imagine this...you start swallowing yer guilt, trying to replace it with anger at something else involved in whatever happened to you, even tangentially related. You get mad about him or her, even if you're not THAT angry about them, but you just let yer guilt drown yer anger completely." "I'm...not sure what you mean." "And with that...you start not feeling guilty anymore, cause yer far too angry to care about something like that, right?" "Uh, right." "Good, glad yer keeping up." "Uhhh well I uh...I'm not following you-" "What?" "I'm just trying to sort myself out, I dunno what you mean by-" "Ahhh. I see yer plan now. Not just anger huh? You wanna forget it all? Dangerous. But there you go." "Can't you give me any advice doctor?" "Why don't we try some hypnosis hmm? Maybe we can outline." "But I know why I'm angry, I'm angry at myself." "Do you really know that for certain? If you did, why did you come here?" "I...I don't know. I was hoping you'd make sense of it." "Then just lie back...and lemme deal with this." "Wh-what are you doing?!" The sound of shackles being set into place and rustling chains were made. The raptor started to feel uncomfortable. "I'm just gonna see what makes you tick first." "B-but I-" "Shhh...just let me handle it." "M-ma'am?" More rustling sounds, a hollow clink of a bottle before the sounds of struggle were made. The man cried out: "WH-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Something small clicked open before the woman said: "What's the matter? I thought you liked stickin' yer dick into somethin' tight an' warm." The sounds of something crackling like fire was faintly heard before the man started to panic. "N-NO! NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? H-HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP MEEEE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR-" James quickly turned the tape off and suddenly felt a deep shiver of fear run down his spine. He sat on the bed, shaking all over with a rising panic. Something disturbed him immensely about the conversation. It wasn't the fact it was apparently a torture session, but that somehow the voices were familiar. He knew those voices.

In the deepest parts of his memory or dreams, he knew those voices. He remembered that particular insult from the woman. He knew that man's pleas for help from somewhere. But he didn't want to try and remember. His panic grew, and he couldn't help himself from vomiting out of some strange reflex. He didn't heave up a lot of sick, but he certainly felt shaken enough by whatever had transpired on the tape. He decided to leave the room, hiccuping slightly from the sourness of his throat, but not before he noticed something hidden underneath the tape recorder. Another key, this one marked "Stairs". With another destination in mind, he walked back along the corridor, the radio woke up with a sudden hiss of panic. The intensity of it made him think that a monster was right next to him. Taking his time, he brought out his handgun and walked slowly down the hall. With each room he passed, it only turned louder until he reached Room S8. The static was shrieking at him like a harpy. But why would it go off near this room? His eyes turned wide open as he grabbed at the door, crying out: "LUISA!" The moment he opened the door however, the radio went silent. Nothing was in the room. That was somehow not a relief since he expected at least one thing to be in the room. Luisa. Not a trace of her remained, other than the bottle of pills upon the bedside table. Now he was terrified of what had happened to her. But she had not said anything, and in the times he had passed by her room, he heard nothing. He headed back towards the elevator, fearful of his only friend's fate.