Chapter Text
You drive along the old, forsaken highways. The stars shine brightly upon you. You dash along at incredible speeds, enjoying the wind on your skin and the breeze through your hair. Your Jeep roars like a lion. Things seem serene. A false sense of security you will soon come to realize.
Death isn’t an unfamiliar concept to you. That much your friends can attest to. Your ever-growing collection of dead things is evidence enough. Crows, rats, snakes. When it comes to preserved carrion, you have everything, but the one thing you never expected to add to your personal collection was you personally. No one expects to die young. Maybe you shouldn't have drove so fast. Driving so recklessly isn’t exactly an action best aligned with self-preservation. Yet, you could have sworn it was a straight road with no dead ends. You suppose it doesn’t matter now. You feel the blood stick to your clothes. You taste the iron in your mouth. It feels too cold and too hot all at the same time. So painful yet painless. You feel tired. Maybe death is a predetermined thing. Then again, maybe it isn’t. You know one thing however: you can only figure out those answers as you live and die. Did you ever find the answers you were looking for in life?
No. No, you don’t think you did. Life was a confusing conundrum. That’s all you ever figured out. You never found the answers. Maybe your life was worthless after all. All you can do in your final moments is think about stupid, random shit. No wonder you never had many friends. You feel yourself cough. There’s breathing besides your own. You crack an eye open through you glasses. You can make out wings, sharp teeth, and a tail.
“For the love of everything unholy." Cried the creature befitting of the most haunting of nightmares,
"Dammit-!"
You begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Your ears ring enough to block out whatever the figure above you is saying. Ehh, whatever. Everything can fuck off and fade away for all you care. It's not like everyone is going to die if you do. Hell, you’ll be doing everyone a favor. You don’t care about the semantics of where your soul goes after you die or any of that horse shit. Heaven and Hell does not matter to you. If you end up at the fiery gates, so be it. You, Dave Strider, probably deserve to be tormented and tortured for all of eternity. The fire and brimstone here you come.
You just barely feel the stranger turn you onto your stomach and place a hand on your back. He’s saying something. You can’t hear it, but you can tell. It feels oddly comforting. This reminds you of something from ages ago. A friend lost to the winds of time. A dorky boy from your childhood. You smell the odd mixture of cake batter and dandelions with a hint of fatherly after shave. Who was he again? Why are you remembering him just now, and why do you want to cry when you think about him? Maybe you already know the answers. Then again, maybe you don’t. Something is lost within you. Time is an ever-flowing gale, and the winds of change have begun to turn. Your mind becomes nothing as the sweet embrace of death finally takes you.
The darkness that swept over you was more calming than you initially expected. It was cold though. Freezing actually. If you didn’t know you were dead, you would say you were freezing to death. As for the dying part itself: it feels like you both don’t exist and exist too much simultaneously. It’s as if there is no consciousness. Yet, you were hyperaware of everything. In other words: this state was extremely oxymoronic; an ironic state befitting of you, even post-death. If you were alive this feeling would be akin to sensory overload. It would have given you a headache, assuming you were alive to have them anymore. Alas, you are alive no longer. In spite of your mental contradictions, you are ultimately in a state of peace. So, this is what death is like. Not too shabby. Something jabs at the side of your consciousness. Something… metallic? You take a moment to realize. You’re feeling pain. Your senses are working. You’re not dead!
“Come on, wake the hell up dammit!” Commanded an alarmingly gravelly and deep voice. It didn’t sound natural. In spite of that, there was a hint of familiarity to the voice. If only you could recall where you have heard it previously...
“I really don’t need this shit today...”
You groan, realizing you rested on a patch of grass under starlight.
“Glad you’re back with me Jackass. Mind telling me why the fuck you were going that fast? You could have injured other people. More than yourself.” You might have been terrified if you weren’t out of sorts already. The demonic features of the stranger were still on him, but much of his details were cloaked in the dark of the night. In spite of that, you could still see a weird tail and wings.
“Listen. I don’t have time to stick around out here, and I highly doubt you want a hospital bill along with another bill for car repairs and other things. So... I don’t usually bring forth a condemned, but it’ll save everyone a lot of trouble if I do it. Just this once.”
You slowly open your weary eyes as the visitor handed you whatever was in the palm of his hand. You knew this object not, but whatever it was, it was most certainly ominous and haunting. The mysterious item had a slit oozing with blood.
“Come on.” The stranger assured, “Just drink it. Trust me.”
You can’t bring yourself to trust someone you just met. Tragically, it seems you lack a choice. As he cups your face and slowly tips his hand so the blood slides into your mouth, you can’t even summon enough energy to cough it out. You’re pretty much forced to swallow. You’ll have to worry about whatever diseases this man just gave you later. Gods know just how tainted another man’s blood can be.
Before you could do anything else a sudden rush of pain shoots through you. A damnneir, burning sensation overtakes you. Yep, you’re in hell alright. It feels worse than that time your friend dared you to jump into a campfire, which you have no idea why you accepted that dare. Even more surprisingly how you weren’t burned. It feels like an eternity before it dissipates. You groan out once the worst of it seems over.
“Oh. Must be finished now.”
You slowly look up. Your car is nowhere to be found, and you’re in a different place than you were previously.
“Wh-...”
“Don’t try to talk yet. That could start up again at any moment. I’ll explain everything later, but first, I need you to go back to sleep.” Assured the strange stranger. Before you can do anything else your consciousness fades again. Good luck understanding what’s going on.
You don’t know how long you slept for this time, but when you come to you feel extraordinarily groggy. Not unlike that time when you were five and pissed the bed. You didn’t think anything could drudge up that sort of memory after so long, but here we are. Must have been the horrendous smell of this musty place you have found yourself in. This place was Victorian and needlessly gothic. This wasn’t where you were previously.
“G’morning sleepin’ beauty. Glad ya could finally join me.” Spoke that ever gravelly, masculine voice once more. You open your eyes and look around your new surroundings for a minute before proceeding.
“Okay, who the hell are you and what am I doing in your house?” You asked, promptly getting met with the wildest of answers.
“You died.” You tried to say something, but froze. Out of all things, you weren’t expecting to hear that.
“No, I didn’t. I am very obviously still here.”
“Well, you’re here, but you’re also dead.”
“Okay, well if I am dead then why am I in your house?”
“You died.”
And there was yet another awkward pause.
“Can you say something other than ‘you died’ like some lame ass Oblivion memer? I’d rather be told something I could work with.”
“Okay then.” Responded the visitor. Or, well... host now, “You’re also undead.”
You make the most confused of noises. This. Gogdamn. Guy!
“It would be much appreciated if you stopped talking in riddles and told me straight up what’s going on!”
“Kid, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. I’ll wait until the wings grow in.”
This guy is talking nonsense and gibberish to you without any signs of stopping. You slowly rise from the vintage, poorly kept sofa. You can stand at least. No damage anywhere, either. Miraculously, you have been fully healed.
“Okay, well if I died, at least tell me how.” You requested in an agitated tone.
“Car crash,” The guy responded, “Actually, now that I think about it... you had a pretty normal death compared to the rest of us.”
“The…. rest of us?” You interrogated with confusion lacing your voice and face.
“The rest of us condemned.” Answered the stranger again, and just like that: He lost you again. This guy is fucking insufferable.
“The condemned.” You responded, more in doubt than it ever would be a question.
“You wouldn’t believe me currently. I’ll tell ya the rest of it within the next few hours when I know you’ll be a bit more reasonable with the news.”
“Why the ever-loving fuck would I wait that long for you to explain yourself!? I’m leaving. I’m leaving and calling the cops, you creepy fuck!” With that you took off in a blind sprint. Maybe you’ll get lucky for a change and escape this dreaded situation. First thing’s first however, you just have to make it to that door.
“Get back here!” Shouted the man. His voice sounded even more unearthly in a yell. It reverbs throughout the room and in your head. Then, your throat fills with water and hair. You’re choking. Your body moves without permission from yourself. It was a terrifying experience as you collapse onto the floor.
“Sit down.” Commanded the stranger coldly. Your body does as he tells you to in spite of your own wishes. Silence fills the room as your suffocating feeling subsides and goes away.
“You will wait for your…. condemning process to happen, and don’t worry... it’s only pain.”
His smile shakes you to your very core. His teeth are too sharp and too white. It’s as if he bleached them or something. His eyes are also too narrow. His pupils are so dilated you could barely spot his blazing orange irises, and even that vanished after a second or two. The atmosphere now feels very unsettling. You want to get up and run, but every time you think to do so you feel like you’re drowning in tar once more. Your only option is to sit down and wait until…. whatever’s going to happen happens. You don’t know how long you have to wait. Minutes? Hours!? maybe an entire day!? It would help if your place of holding had windows. You’d be able to accurately tell how much time is passing, but eventually you feel a dull pain.
It originates at first from your spine. You want to reach towards your back, but before you can even move your hands you found yourself on the floor. The pain went from dull to sharp in an instant. Straight into ‘God, please kill me!’ territory. Within the span of about three seconds, you feel hot. It’s as if you’re on fire, and there’s no amount of stopping, dropping, and rolling that can help you. Sweat visibly drips from your forehead. It sizzles and steams as soon as it hits the ground as if a griddle is below your hands and knees. The choking feeling leaves only to return much worse. You look back to where your sweat drips unto the ground, only for you to realize you’re bleeding. You have no idea where from. You try to stand up, but your legs might as well be noodles. Hell, maybe noodles would be more useful than whatever your legs have decided to be today. You barely mustered up the courage to crawl to a nearby mirror. Luckily, one is close by. You question why this guy has a mirror right in his living room, but a sudden, stabbing feeling in your chest distracts you.
In spite of the sharp, stabbing feeling in your chest, every other part of your body was in agony. Everything was painful. Every movement. The longer you struggle to maintain consciousness, the more pain you feel. Right when you get used to it, another new pain sparks up somewhere else. It feels like your trapped in an eternity before you reach the mirror. Your eyes bleed a black, tarry substance. A few seconds after you locked gazes with your reflection in the old-timey mirror, your left eyeball explodes within your eye socket. you scream, and ultimately passed out directly after.
The man with the spiky teeth arrives sometime later. He left when you started feeling the first waves of pain. He puts a bottle of water down in front of you.
“Holy shit, that actually did a number on you. Let me see your eye.” He requested. Sadly, you could not refuse. The guy’s hands cuff your face. Weird, triangular sunglasses block whatever his eyes had to say.
“Good news, that’ll heal! Bad news, you might want to cover your eyes… Like, forever.”
“Why?” you just barely look up to him. You feel terribly weak.
“Look in the mirror.”
So, you do. At least the mirror was still in front of you. Your first thought upon seeing your unsightly reflection is how the fuck is that going to heal!? Your second thought upon seeing your reflection is why the fuck is your sclera all black? You suppose that could have happened if your eye got damaged, but your left eye is the one that exploded. Then that begs the question; what the fuck happened to your right!?
“Try not to be too surprised. This happens to everyone at first. The damages will fix themselves throughout the next few days.”