K.E.S. Loredump

Whispers, Pt 1

12/25/2024

10:22 AM

   Cynder softly groaned as his eyes adjusted to the daylight pouring through his window and his limbs started becoming responsive. He had a very peaceful sleep, a well-deserved one at that. He and the rest of the gang partied till nearly 2 AM last night. He recalled this as he laid there lazily. It took a second for the memories to surface... why had they been partying so much last night again? Suddenly, it hit him: yesterday was Christmas Eve! And so, that means...

   Cynder's eyes shot wide open and his mouth shaped into a joyful grin as a sudden burst of energy coursed through his veins. "It's Christmas!" he exclaimed quietly in a happy shouting tone. And just like that, Cynder's desire to stay in bed and continue resting had vanished. He sat up and removed his blanket off him. He reached down to the side of the bed where he'd left his cybernetic right leg. He picked it up off the floor, brought it up to him, and connected it to the base of his leg. He giggled as he began to get out of bed. "I wonder what-"

   "AAAGH!?"

   Cynder was suddenly cut off by a barrage of loud whispering voices echoing in his mind. He yelled in pain as he shot back down onto his bed. "N-No... Why?!" he cried, trembling. "Not again! Not again! For fuck's sake, NOT AGAIN!! SHUT UP!!" Cynder's head was absolutely throbbing. His vision grew blurry, and all worldly sounds including his pleading pained voice were getting drowned out by the incoherent voices.

   Cynder has been getting attacked by these voices for weeks now. He's had already gone mad over trying to decipher whatever these voices might've been trying to tell him. He failed. He repeatedly begged the voices to stop. They didn't listen. He questioned why he was being subjected to such torture and what he did to deserve it. He never got an answer. He tightly grasped his head and shut his eyes tight, as he began to thrash around in agony.

   He thrashed and thrashed and thrashed. It felt like his brain was on fire. This was new... it had never been this painful before. "WHAT THE FUUUCK!! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!! STOP IT!! NGAAHHH!!" Cynder's agonized cries continued to be ignored as the voices overwhelmed and pestered him. It hurt so much, it felt like his head was going to explode. They were still whispering, but it felt more like they were screaming at him. No apparent meaning or reason at all for tormenting poor Cynder. Nothing they said meant anything at all; just a bunch of nonsense and gibberish, just to cause him pain.

   Until...

   ...

   "The Chips..."

   "Violence... Style... Chivalry..."

   "The Web depends... Obtain them..."

   The voices stopped. It was over. Cynder's head rang for a moment... and eventually it all subsided.

   Cynder was flabbergasted. He stayed still as a stone. "What the hell was that?" he thought. It was the most stress-inducing and confusing moment of his life so far, even more so than when he first stepped into the Shadow Realm. For the first time ever, he understood the voices. Well... not really. Sure, he was finally able to discern what they were supposedly trying to tell him, but what did it even mean? It just sounded insane. Chips? What chips? Potato chips? And what was that about violence, style and chivalry? Sounds like something a Redditor would say. And apparently the WWW depends on him obtaining... them? What even is 'them?' It was all so random, and just asinine.

   From the depths of Cynder's mind, another voice emerged. But this time, it was a far less alarming and very much relieving voice. "CYNDER?! CYNDER ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" yelled Soul Firey from within Cynder, distraught apparent in his voice. "Th-That was the worst one so far! I can communicate now. Has it subsided yet?! Please tell me you're okay!" Cynder's head twitched and ticced. He was breathing rather heavily. "Y...Yeah." he replied. "It's all good now... thanks Soul Firey."

   As his mind became less and less foggy, something occurred to Cynder. The material he was feeling beneath his paws, it wasn't his mattress at all. It was hard and smooth, like... plaster? Cynder slowly opened his eyes, finally feeling as though all the pain in his head had subsided completely.

   What he saw utterly perplexed him. It was the wall. Wait, what? The wall? No, that couldn't be right. He quickly sat up on his knees in confusion and shock. "Wh-What the-?!" he yelped, his voice cracking. He looked to his left: he saw his bed, flipped on its side. That's odd... He looked further up: he saw the dark wood of the floorboards and his rug. He looked straight up: he saw the wall parallel to the side of the room he was on. He looked to his right: he saw the bland ceiling.

   Cynder's mind was spinning. He looked back down, then up, then to his left, then his right, then back to his left, up, right, down, right, left, down. Had his room just flipped on its side for some reason? Was the whole base this way too? No... his room hadn't flipped... he had. In his pained violent tantrum, he somehow managed to thrash himself... onto the wall? And stick? That's not possible. Was he dreaming?

   No. No, he wasn't dreaming. He really could feel the painted plaster beneath him. Cynder was frozen, like a photo capturing a fleeting moment of disbelief. "Well... this is something else." he thought.

   Suddenly, a familiar voice from a distance snapped him out of his trance. "Cynder! Hey Cynder!" called Ion. Cynder turned towards his bedroom door, caught off guard, as Ion's footsteps grew louder, getting closer. Then he came in, swinging the door open with enthusiasm. "Morning, Cynder. Come on, we gotta open the-" Ion cut himself off. The excited grin he had on his face immediately shifted into a look of utter surprise and bewilderment. His jaw hit the floor as he spots Cynder, kneeling upside-sideways on the wall, spitting in gravity's face. Cynder stared back at him with an innocently guilty exaggerated expression.

   "U-Um..." he stammered. "I-I... can explain??"

   This Christmas morning sure was off to an interesting start.