Chapter Twenty-Eight （Found Footage）

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (FOUND FOOTAGE)

HAZEL

Boom. The door shook. Gonzo moved in front of me. I reached for him and ripped him back with a warning glare.

"I'm the immortal one."

The door flew open, and Orson came strolling in, a handkerchief delicately dabbing at the leftover blood around his mouth. He closed the door and then let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging.

"Why are you two here?" The annoyance was easy to pick up. Especially when he turned and glared at us.

"We need a way to play these," I said, pulling a tape from the box. I smiled. He looked unimpressed. "We think it's about Zero, Doctor Stein."

"Hmm." Orson strolled over to a closet. He pulled out a key and unlocked it, then disappeared inside. Gonzo took the moment alone to look at me. I pretended not to notice. He kept doing that a lot—stealing glances.

Gonzo sat with the box in his lap. I looked over at him and felt my stomach flutter. He was always handsome and always dangerously attractive. But there was more to him now. A depth of emotion that welled up inside me. Something about him felt right —like a home I never had.

He reached out, touching the side of my face. His expression was tender, and his touch was gentle. The instant we connected, a relieved sigh escaped me. Being mates with him was something else. I was connected to him. Trying to deny this bond would cost me. I didn't want to lose this.

His fingers slid down my face, pressing softly against my lips. Our eyes connected. He wanted to kiss me. I wanted even more than that. I had so many years to make up for when it came to making love. That's what Gonzo would do, too; he'd make love to me—powerfully and tenderly.

A cart holding a TV and VHS player rolled out. Orson followed behind it. I pulled myself away from Gonzo's touch.

"Thanks," Gonzo grumbled to Orson. He gathered the box in one arm and walked over to the rolling cart. When he began to push it towards the door, Orson moved fast. Next thing we knew, he was holding Gonzo's wrist.

"I want to see too," Orson said, removing his hand instantly. "You're abnormally hot." I looked at Gonzo, wondering if he was going to get sick again. He was better than before but was coiled tight in agitation. His eyes kept flashing gold instead of staying their calm, dark color.

Gonzo found an outlet to plug everything into while I grabbed Project Portal 001 from the box.

"What are the tapes exactly?" Orson asked, sitting down in his chair. The bloody handkerchief was tossed into a side drawer.

"Not sure," I said. "It was the oldest thing in there. Project Portal ring any bells?"

"Portal…" Orson pondered the word as I pushed the tape into the player. It rolled inside the mouth of the machine. I could hear plastic parts moving. Gonzo flicked the TV between sources until he found the right one.

Loud static blasted from the TV, and Gonzo quickly turned it down. His expression was tense. I got the feeling he wouldn't be right again until he got Zero back. Hopefully, Gonzo could last a little while longer. I didn't want to rush saving Zero, potentially forcing him to be stuck with a witch gag for the rest of his life. What was under there, hiding behind the gag?

The static went on and on. I crept up on TV. There was a noise below the hissing.

"Turn it up," I said. Gonzo clicked it up until the static was loud again. A voice was behind the static, warped words. Then… maniacal laughter.

"It's like downstairs, with the speakers," I said.

"This isn't useful," Orson sighed. The moment he said it, the screen went black, and the noises stopped. Words popped up in the middle.

Retrieved voice recordings from Doctor Dubois, head witch of Project Portal. 1720.

We all looked at one another. The screen remained dark as a voice popped on. There was a warbling distortion to the sound.

"The portal has remained stable for twenty-four hours after its initial opening. We will now proceed with further experiments. Three men are being fitted with modified metal diving suits. We aren't sure how hospitable it is on the other side. We're all excited but also nervous. We are hoping to find a material not of this world that could help advance magic and science. An elixir of life. "

The words cut off. Then they came back in the next few seconds. It was clear some time had gone by.

"The explorers never came back. We aren't sure what this means. There is talk about a rescue mission, but some argue we would only be sending more men to their deaths." He paused, sighing. "If we cannot collect anything from the other world, our entire mission will be lost. All the years and money that went into this experiment will be a waste."

It cut off again. A magic portal to another world? Doctor Dubois' voice came back on.

"The three explorers have come back." He sounded unhappy and cold. "They aren't the same. Simply, they have gone mad. They keep mumbling the same phrase: I have become part of the madness . No tests can show anything is wrong with them. However, they hold an inordinate amount of terror when asked to look into someone's eyes. One of the men was so upset when asked to look someone in the eye that he grabbed a pen and stabbed his own eyes."

I looked over at Gonzo. He stared at the screen in confusion. I was tense. Some of this sounded familiar. Which was off-putting. You're a part of me now, Hazel. And what had I said his mind felt like? Madness. I like you with your eyes in your head.

"It's very disturbing, to say the least," Doctor Dubois continued. "However, we are sending more men in."

The voice cut off. There was a longer stretch of silence. I tried not to panic. I didn't need to jump to any conclusions. I wasn't even sure what conclusions I could jump to.

So Supra, or a group of witches, had opened a magic portal and went through. It drove the men insane.

How did Zero connect? Was he a scientist who was part of all this, now silenced into secrecy? I opened my mouth to ask the others about what exactly we were listening to, but before I could, the recording started up again.

"The second group returned one week later. They refuse to speak and also refuse to look anyone in the eye. One wrote down a question, though: "What year is it?" When explained he'd only been gone a week, he became inconsolable and was found dead in his quarters that night. On the wall, written in blood, was the same phrase from the first two men who went in. "I have become part of the madness."

It cut off. I leaned forward and paused it. My fingers were shaking. Inside my head, I felt a black mass.

"Another world?" I asked. "A planet in space?"

"I don't think so," Orson said. He looked at his desk in thought.

"Then what?" I asked, sounding too desperate for an answer. I rubbed my forehead. Don't look too hard, Hazel. I like you with your eyes. Why say that?

"Magic portals have been a witch myth forever," Orson said. "They are said to open into another dimension."

"The myths also warn to never do it," Gonzo said. Quickly, I leaned forward and pressed play again. The thing in my head shifted as if it could sense me thinking about it.

"There is talk of closing the portal," Doctor Dubois said. "Will this all have been for nothing? I refuse to allow it, but I do not have full power over this choice. There is not much time left…" Dubois took a shaky breath. His voice came on muffled, as if he was whispering close to whatever he was recording with.

"I've been standing in front of the portal at night when the other scientists have gone. It's viscose and crimson—like…" he trailed off. "Blood. Sometimes I think I hear something. Several days ago, I lost track of time. It was morning, and I had spent the entire night staring and listening. It felt like a blink of an eye. This morning, I nearly touched the liquid, but someone was there to stop me. They were reasonably astounded, and I was embarrassed. But I cannot stop thinking about the crimson sea. Something is on the other side. Something that is watching me. I think it wants to understand me, the same way I wish to understand it. It wants me to send more people through."

The voice cut off.

"It sounds like he's gone insane," Gonzo said.

"This doesn't have a happy ending," Orson added before Doctor Dubois' voice held us captivated again. My breath was picking up. I was having to count my inhales and exhales. What was in my head? Somewhere in the depths of Verfallen, I heard laughter.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. My voice was strained.

"Hear what?" Gonzo asked. The recording started up again.

"I have just sent two more people through the portal without approval. I sent my two assistants in, not the hardy explorers from before. They went without deep suits. In the morning, I will be exiled from the community, my career over." His heavy breathing filled the room for a few tense moments before the recording stopped. The tape ended and popped out on its own.

"He said the men came back different. Could Zero be one of those assistants?" I asked. I passed my fingers to my head, tracing the hairline where I'd found the scar on other inmates. Zero had done that. Why? Orson leaned forward on his desk, rubbing his mouth.

"That's a possibility. It could have driven him insane. That's why they keep him here and monitor him."

"Then they spelled him into silence so no one would know about their failure," Gonzo added. He picked up a tape.

"So he's a witch?" I asked.

"You don't look convinced," Gonzo said, pressing the next tape in. I wasn't. I was terrified it was something else. He pressed play. A warning came on the screen.

Memories retrieved from Doctor Dubois after death.

The screen filled with an image. There was a large, old room with wooden walls, ornate wallpaper, carpeted floors, and lots of art in gilded frames.

"Looks like a French salon," Orson commented. We weren't watching a camera recording. It was from the viewpoint of Doctor Dubois—a full memory with audio and visual.

"You cannot throw me out! I risked everything for this. I need to see what happens. My assistants will come back." Doctor Dubois was furious and frightened. He kept backing away from the group of men in front of him.

"You have killed those men. They were your assistants . They were your responsibility, and you betrayed them."

"They always come back," Dubois dismissed. "It needed—"

" It ?" The man in front of him asked with shock. They all wore button-ups and tight, high-waisted pants. Dubois refused to respond.

"They do not come back. Not their minds. You have damned them."

"Supra—"

"Supra has failed," the man yelled.

In the video, the room shook, and a deep booming noise had them all covering their ears. There was a screeching, like metal bending.

"What's going on?" The man in front of Dubois yelled.

"Something is coming through," a voice yelled over the noise. Dubois' attention swung to the portal for the first time. It looked just as he described it—a thick, crimson liquid. It was a large freestanding rectangle about ten feet tall. Its presence in the room felt demanding. The liquid rippled, and Dubois gasped.

"They are back," he said as their heads came through the portal. I bent towards the television, eyeing the two assistants. I waited to recognize one of them—to see Zero.

The assistants were both missing their eyes. Empty, dark sockets stared back at us.

"No, no, no," Dubois gasped. It was worse than just the eyes. Their tongues had been pulled out of a hole in their throats. As they continued to come through, it was obvious they were dead. The two assistants were missing their bottom halves. Their spines hung freely, protruding from their severed middle. Neither looked like Zero, but it was hard to tell with the state they were in.

The sight was so shocking to take in that it hadn't been obvious someone clutched their heads in their hands, pushing them through the portal. A hand held their hair in tight grips, thrusting them forward. Human hands—long, precise fingers. The bodies dropped to the floor before the portal. Then something else came walking through.

"Dear god," Orson hissed. Gonzo and I remained silent as we watched Zero step out from the portal. His long hair hung down unrestrained—looking untamed. His body looked perfect—straight, broad shoulders and a long, lean body. The way he carried himself was different—wilder. He looked the same as now, but something was off.

A smile blossomed on Zero's face in the recording. His lips stretched wide, revealing rows of perfect, white teeth. A shudder went up my spine. His nakedness wasn't the thing that made him stand out in the room. It was his inhumanity. It was like looking at a mask or some terrible fucked up thing that had managed to fit itself inside the body of a human. The eyes were the worst, too wide and frantic and manic, flipping around like one of those black cat clocks. Back and forth—pupils blown.

Zero bent down, plucking glasses off one of the corpses before sliding them on his own face. Then he walked towards Doctor Dubois. The scientist fell to his knees. I could hear screaming from the other people around him, but it sounded distant and muffled.

Zero looked down at Dubois, his head twisting to the side in curiosity.

"Thank you," Zero told him. "I finally understood how to make myself look like you." Dubois looked nowhere else but Zero's eyes. Slowly, the pupils divided until three swam in each eye.

"You called me," Zero said. Dubois shook his head. " Yes . You wanted something to come through."

"We wanted—"

"You wanted it, and you got it." Zero's mouth split open, and laughter spilled out. I looked at my arms and saw the hairs standing on end. Even through a recording, this was disturbing. That wasn't Zero. But also… it was.

Dubois' gaze snapped away from Zero. He looked around at the others in the room. They were clawing at the door, unsuccessfully trying to get out.

"Look at me, Dubois," Zero said.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because I am inside your head. Look ." The demand boomed around the room in the recording. But in Orson's office, a ceiling tile fell, breaking in half on the floor.

"Please," Dubois begged. Zero's eyes filled the screen. They looked like… like ink stains. Blobs of darkness moved like molten lava, constantly rearranging from one shape to the next. The moment I thought I could see something, anything, they would dance again, black liquid double pupils starting to swirl like a spiral, dragging my mind in—

The video suddenly stopped, and Orson had the plug in his hand.

"Why did you do that?" Gonzo asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You both were chanting, and I couldn't get you to stop. The TV wouldn't turn off either. It just kept playing."

"Chanting?" I asked. He dropped the cord.

"Chanting what?" Gonzo asked

"I have become part of the madness." We were chanting and didn't know it? Chanting from seeing Zero in an old recording. His eyes…

"I'm getting the fuck out of here." Orson stomped up to me and put his hand out. "Give it to me."

"What?" I asked, stepping back.

"My keycard."

" Yours ?" I don't know why that surprised me.

"Yes. I was a staff member here at some point. That is my key card, the only one I have. Baz asked me for it so he could give it to you."

"You gave him your only way out of here?" Gonzo asked in disbelief. Orson sighed.

"What Baz wants, he often gets. He says stay, and we're all still here," Orson sighed.

"But… Nemo," Gonzo said in confusion. "He's the Alpha of Alphas."

"He's not Baz's Alpha, though," Orson responded. Gonzo's eyes bugged in disbelief.

"There's a reason basilisks aren't allowed to live," I sighed. Their ability was too powerful.

The unplugged TV turned back on. Zero looked at us from the screen. I sucked in a breath and then realized it was still the past. But it was… here, in the Verfallen basement.

"Do you know what we've done to you?" It wasn't Dubois talking; the voice was different.

"Magical lobotomy," Zero responded apathetically. His eyes were half-lidded in boredom. The expression on his face was blank. And his pupils were entirely normal.

"How do you feel, Zero?"

"I don't." Zero was in a black leather straitjacket that I recognized as the coat he still wore now.

"Very good. Let's discuss what will happen," the man said. Zero looked at him blankly. "You know how to figure things out." The man waited for a response.

"That wasn't a question," Zero said eventually.

"You made yourself look like us from the humans we sent through the portal, correct?"

"Correct," Zero said. His eyes slowly slid from the middle of the screen to the right, looking right at me. It was as if he could see through time and space to know we were watching. The dark thing in my mind vibrated, and my teeth ground.

"The results were messy. You didn't like that," Zero said.

"Sacrifice is necessary for progress," the man responded. Zero slowly slid his attention back to him.

"You opened the portal to find something that will help with medical advances. You were hoping to find a material…"

"Don't read my thoughts," the man hissed.

"I can't anymore. Dubois told me," Zero said with apathy.

"Well, we got you, and we think you can give us what we want."

"I can rip things apart and figure out how they work. Is that what you want? To be ripped apart?"

"Yes," he responded. Zero hummed.

"Why would I help you? Will you remove the…" Zero's gaze grew vacant and unfocused.

"No, I'm offering comfort." Zero refocused his eyes and looked unimpressed.

"Who's to say I'm not comfortable already?"

"Then you can rot here alone, but I don't think you are comfortable," the man said. "The guards have reported that you've been pulling the bricks out of the wall, going mad, murmuring to yourself, scratching at your eyes. You need things to figure out, don't you?" Zero remained silent.

"So you will figure things out for us. We'll throw rats in your cage, supernaturals that have committed heinous crimes—"

"You think I care about your morals?" Zero asked.

"I guess not," the man said. "The point is, no one wants them coming back. Once they are here, they'll never come back out. You'll get staff to help you—"

"Spies?"

"They will keep reports on you, but their job is to assist the inmates. And you will do your job, or we will make things much worse for you." Zero's jaw flexed. You could see there was anger battling to come forth inside him, but his expression remained bored, his body lax in the chair.

"Patient Zero has a better ring than Specimen Zero, doesn't it?"

"Sounds the same," Zero said apathetically.

"Your cage will be called Verfallen Asylum. We'll begin to work right away to make it hospitable to the test subjects, make it look like a real asylum on the surface."

"I suppose I don't have a choice," Zero said.

"You don't. And Zero, keep in mind… You won't ever free yourself again. The witch gag in your mind is spelled, so it can't be intentionally removed. You'll only hurt yourself if you start digging around in your brain."

The TV cut off again.

"It's in his head," Gonzo said. There was screaming in the halls. Orson quickly shoved his hand in my pocket and ripped the keycard out.

"Get away from her," Gonzo growled. The speakers on the walls turned out, screeching.

"Verfallen is now in lockdown," Nurse Rachel said. "The doors will remain sealed."

"Fuck," Orson hissed in a panic.

"They've locked us in to starve and die since the inmates have become unmanageable."

"No, they fucking didn't," Gonzo said, stomping up to me and grabbing my hand. "They locked us in because they are scared shitless of him ." He pointed at the TV.

"Why would they lock the asylum because of him? He's been here since the beginning."

"Somethings changed," Gonzo said. "And they're terrified." Both their gazes swung to me.

"Hazel," Gonzo said.

"Yes?"

"Can you please stop mumbling?"

"I'm not mumbling," I said in confusion.

"Yes, you are, princess." Gonzo grabbed my arms, rubbing them comfortingly. I started to hyperventilate.

"What was I saying?"

"He's inside your head, isn't he?" Gonzo asked.

"What was I saying?" I asked.

"I am part of the madness."

I sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed my head.

"I can feel him," I said, my eyes stinging.

"It's okay. He doesn't want to hurt you," Gonzo said. I took a deep breath and let it out. Then I nodded. My eyes trailed back to the screen. Zero was on it again, smiling at me. He looked wild. I blinked, and it was gone.

"I might be going insane."