- Busted -

Edited: 04/09/20

After another few minutes of silence, Wilford stood up and walked towards the door.

"Well, I guess I did my part here. Help yourself, Markimoo, I'll see you around."

And with that Wilford left the room and disappeared in the hallway. Mark just starred at the empty spot where his all known ego stood and sniffed a little in the silence filled room.

"Guess it's my turn to leave now," Mark thought and stood up as well, following Wilford's lead and leaving the room behind him.

As he walked down the empty corridor a small part of the metal chain still dangled from the handcuff around his wrist, creating a quite similar sound to a key chain being shaken. As he neared the end of the hallway, he heard voices. Mark quickly stopped in his tracks and listened attentive. It were four of them, two sounded very similar to one another.

"So that's why you're so early back," one men said, a comprehensive 'aah, now I understand' followed.

"The Host agrees and offers his help to the project of Darkiplier. He asks if their leader has any other tasks for him and Dr. Iplier to do."

"No, that's all," answered the echoing voice that Mark knew all too well until now.

"Well, if that's all I'll take my leave, dear gentlemen," stated the slurring voice of Wilford.

The heels of shoes echoed through the room and it sounded like they were coming towards Mark's way. Said man started to feel panic burning up inside of him and looked down the corridor.

"Too far. I can't reach the room in time."

Mark's desperate gaze locked with a door that was near him and a gap wide open. Before thinking twice, he quickly dashed into the room and shut the door close as quietly as possible.
A relieved sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment, sliding with his back against the door to the ground.

"Hello? Who's there?" a deep and hoarse voice asked.

Mark snapped his eyes open and tried to find the source of the voice, but due to the darkness he couldn't make out anything at all. There was the sound of shuffling and then a loud thud, being followed by a groan.

"King, if it's you again, I swear to god, I don't know where the damn peanut butter is."

Again, a shuffling sound filled the air before a small 'click' followed and the nightstand lamp lit the room. With the new gained light Mark could finally see something, but regretted his dash to the room immediately. There stood a tired looking man in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair stood up to all sides and his hands were rubbing his half-lidded eyes.

"Wha- you're not- Mark? What the hell are you doing here?" Bim questioned confused, not able to process what was going on.

Mark scrambled to his feet and lunged himself at Bim, shutting his mouth close with his hand.

"Shh now. It's not the right time to ask questions," Mark whisper-shouted and glared at him, "Please, I really don't need to get into more trouble than I already am. Just shut that pretty mouth of yours and stay quiet and let me do my stuff."

Right in that moment, the footsteps passed Bim's room and faded away after a few seconds. Mark pulled his hand back and took a step back. Bim took in a breath he didn't know he held in and tried to relaxed a bit, sorting his thoughts of what to do. He then quickly slipped on his black business shoes and shoved himself past Mark to the door.

"Hey, hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?" Mark asked as he hurried after Bim and blocked his way to the door.

"Mark, I just woke up and I am tired as heck, let me get my coffee," he stated and tried again to shove past Mark. He on the other hand stood his place and hold the show host by his shoulders.

"I honestly don't trust you with that, dear friend," Mark began and pushed Bim back, "you're definitely lying to me."

"Why would I, the great Bim Trimmer, would lie to you, Mark Fischbach?" he asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his typical game show grin across his face.

"The question is rather; why wouldn't you?"

"Oh, come on! Would you ever lie to yourself, Mark?"

"Definitely yes," he answered without hesitation.

"God damn it. I have to get out of here. Dark or Wilford could barge in at any moment," Mark thought.

"Hell, if I don't tell Dark immediately that Mark's marching around the house, I'm gonna be so screwed," Bim thought at the same time and started to make up a quick plan.

Right after both males had a plan in mind, a knock startled them. Mark quickly glanced at the door handle, then at Bim. As quick as he could, he lunged at Bim, again, clasping his hand over his mouth.

"Not right now! I'm, eh, changing!" the youtuber screamed and hoped that would be enough to encourage the person on the other side to leave.

"...Are you okay, Bim? You don't sound so good."

Before he could give another response, Bim bit into Mark's hand and dashed forward when his creator was startled by the sudden attack.

"King! Open the god damn door!"

The next moment, King of the Squirrels kicked the door open and looked in horror at Bim. Said man ran past him, down the stairs and for the search after Dark.

There was a heavy silence between King and Mark as they just starred at each other, the wounded man quietly cursing under his breath.

"Are you a new here?" King asked and finally broke the silence.

"What? Me?"

King nodded.

"I- no. I'm Mark," he stuttered, kind of startled by the question.

Then loud and quick footsteps neared the room and a low "murder him" echoed through the hallway. Mark froze in place as the footsteps grew louder and then stopped abruptly. He lifted his glance from his hand to his crown wearing ego, shifted it a bit to his right, and looked straight into the dark pits of ink that its creature called eyes.

"Fischbach," Dark growled dangerously.

Dark pushed King out of his way and walked up to Mark, an animalistic growl roaring from the back of his throat. The hostage only stiffened and whimpered in the slightest.

"How did you get free."

Mark hesitated for a moment but deliberately chose to tell him.

"So, hehe, Wilford helped me. He cut the chain and just left the room. I uh took the opportunity to... take a walk through the house," he hesitantly explained, laughing nervously, his eyes wandering everywhere but to Dark.

"Look at me when you're talking," Dark commanded as a quiet ringing started to dance through the air.

Mark trained his eyes on Dark and gulped. He felt how the temperature in the room fell, his panic growing with every passing second.

"Follow me," the entity ordered and left the room, a black mist dancing at his feet, leaving a footprint of hatred before fading into nothingness and erasing any evidence of his existence.

It took Mark a few seconds before he followed and caught up with the fine suited man. They walked down the stairs, crossed the living room, walked through another hallway and lastly stopped in front of a dark oak wooden door. Dark knocked twice before he entered, Mark followed closely behind.
After they entered, the door shut close and the click of the lock was barely audible.

"The Host welcomes Darkiplier and Mark in his study."