Laboratory B7

A headache ticked relentlessly at the back of Smiley's skull, as he struggled to make out his surroundings. Focus for too long and things began to feel fuzzy.

He could feel his own pulse, frenzied blood beating through his cold wrists – something was clamped over them. Shackles? Must be.

Scarlet eyes half open, Smiley staggered to his feet, feeling his coat swishing with the momentum.

Just as he thought; his arms were bound above his head by steel. The binds looked relatively new and shiny. They reflected the dull ceiling.

It was a struggle to stand in his disoriented condition, so the not-so-good doctor fell.

A chain pulled taut, saving him from cracking his head open on the crumbly, checkered floor. Still, such sudden jerks and movements did make him dizzy. And nauseous.

A trickle of sweat weaved its way down his back.

What's happened to me?

Pulling his legs forward, he slowly straightened up – and this time Smiley took advantage of the chains above his head to stay upright.

His balance was wobbly at best.

I don't like this one bit...

There was no telling where he was, but he certainly knew who had taken him here. Vague flashbacks filtered through gaps in his thoughts; a forest clearing, snippets of conversation, two identifiable voices.

Smirky and Kagekao.

If he yelled, would anyone hear him?

Smiley's eyes – now fully open - darted left and right, taking in all the information they could collect.

Floor looked like an ancient tile chessboard, faded walls weren't in much better condition, the ceiling was dark and high up, a solitary florescent lightbulb was his only friend.

He could hear the lightbulb fizzing, crackling, and watched the light itself flicker at irregular intervals, tauntingly plunging him into momentary heart-stopping darkness.

Despair burrowed into his heart, threw down a suitcase and decided to stay there.

The not-so-good doctor knew that he was in no condition to break the shackles that kept him tied to the middle of the circular room like a centrepiece.

Flicker.

Just a flash of dark.

And then Smiley felt icy breath on his neck.

His heart leapt to his throat.

Flicker.

It was gone.

According to urban legends, it was impossible for creepypastas to get scared. According to the creepypastas themselves (especially Dark Link after BEN's twerking craze), it wasn't.

Barely daring to breathe, Smiley squeezed his eyes shut.

He could still hear the lightbulb fizzing.

Zzzzzpt.

Something snaked over his shoulders and wound around his throat; sharp claws. Cold sharp claws.

The not-so-good doctor reacted like any insane 'pasta would; he threw his head from side-to-side and tried to shake off the aforementioned popsicle claws.

"Let go or I'll-I'll bite!"

"Isn't that more your twin's thing?"

"... Don't test me."

Zalgo decided to withdraw his claws, and took a step back for good measure. Then a step around. He started to circle Smiley.

Smiley followed his glowing gaze - looking over his shoulder, turning his head, switching to looking over the other shoulder, all to keep eye-contact with the prince of darkness.

Flicker.

"You're picking us off one-by-one, aren't you? Part of another one of your deranged plans? It's going to fail."

"Oh please. Those attacks? They were your brother's doing, and he executed them all by himself. Him going for another creepypasta and kidnapping you were bonuses for me," Zalgo scoffed.

Shockingly, this revelation didn't surprise Smiley in the slightest.

Truly; a reaction nobody saw coming.

In fact, all he did was roll his eyes and mumble something under the lines of, "Typical..."

Zalgo (ironically) began smirking. It was a smug, all-knowing sort of smirk. "Ahem, do you know where you are right now?"

"In a dungeon, I presume."

"Wrong; you're in a laboratory. B-seven, to be exact. This is a holding cell. Wanna take a look around?"

If the not-so-good doctor had cat ears, they would've been flattened against his skull in annoyance. Or perhaps twitching.

He really couldn't stand Zalgo's patronising tone, which the prince of darkness had adopted  throughout their short exchange of words.

So, through gritted teeth, he responded with something filled with venom.

"My screams become very unsatisfying after the third day, or so I've heard."

Flicker.

When the light resumed its pattern of luminous fizzing, Smiley found that his chains were no longer attached to the ceiling.

Unfortunately Zalgo was holding them, which admittedly could be considered worse.

Smiley wondered what kind of consequences would lie in wait if he had an 'involuntary muscle spasm" and kicked that smirk right off his face...?

In the fashion of true tragedy, he never got to find out, because Zalgo had other ideas in mind and pulled him along as soon as the lightbulb flickered.

Since it was kinda hard to see in pitch darkness, Smiley had no idea how they'd left the holding cell. All he knew was the ache in his wrists, and the fact that it'd suddenly got a lot colder.

Brighter too. Oh so much brighter.

It didn't do his headache a good turn.

Reality, it wasn't any more well-lit than most rooms in existence.

If you're reading this somewhere in the afternoon, chances are there's a lightbulb on somewhere. Think that bright.

But to someone who'd – quite literally – been kept in the dark; the light was blazing.

Smiley winced and flinched back, wishing he had something to tie around his face. Like a blanket. Or better yet a whole pillow. And some duct tape.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Zalgo sighed, standing by his side. The chain was wrapped loosely around his forearm like a dog's leash.

"It's lit like a stadium." Came a brittle reply.

"Tsk."

Their footsteps were firm on solid tile flooring. Or at least, he thought it was tile. Sort of hard to tell with eyes open only by a silver, blurred by eyelashes and overall unfocus.

He hardly absorbed any of the info that Zalgo was feeding him. Something about automatic locking systems?

The only thing Zalgo didn't comment on was a lone bookshelf; they passed by it in total silence. The not-so-good doctor was curious, but at the same time, he couldn't go through the effort of prying.

If his hands hadn't been otherwise 'tied up,' Smiley would've been nursing his poor concussion.

Light sensitivity, headache and a little drowsiness... How long was I unconscious for? Thirty minutes? An hour? No matter; my accelerated healing's working well.

A minion stationed nearby – who'd been mopping the floor – suddenly slipped and went shooting across the slippery-as-soap tiles (Smiley's guess was correct.). 

It crashed headfirst into a lab table and rattled deafeningly.

We won't tell you if it was the table or the minion that rattled, because we're evil like that.

Anydoodles, this not-so-revolutionary occurrence saw the end of their little guided tour.

"-And of course, you'll be staying here for the rest of your foreshortened life. Make yourself comfy on the floor or something; I need the holding cell for storage."

Smiley nudged the side of his head with his shoulder, rubbing his ear to mimic cleaning it. "Huh? Beg your pardon?"

Zalgo gave a low sort of growl that suggested annoyance. "The minions will help you with anything you need. Don't get too comfy."

No matter where their conversation was veering (an argument about the competency of the prince of darkness' staff), all words went sailing out of a nonexistent window when someone opened the laboratory door.

Zalgo paused post-speech ("They're just pliable!"), and so did Smiley ("They're incapable of basic functions! One of them is lying in a crumpled heap two feet away for heaven's sakes!").

Smirky shut the door behind himself, but didn't make any further moves. He held a handkerchief to his face like a dust mask. 

"I thought I might find you here," his voice was slightly muffled; sounded softer.

Smiley couldn't cross his arms – but he certainly could give an indignant scoff and turn his head the other way. Talk about reversed roles.

On the other hand, Zalgo was extremely pleased to see his servant again. He went straight towards him, almost eager to judge his present condition.

"It's a shame; I was hoping you'd go a lot slower than you did. Where's the fun of killing if there's no torture involved? And no, before you say anything, cutting into a shoulder doesn't count!"

"Revenge is so much sweeter if you serve it all at once."

"Who did you murder this time?" Smiley interrupted loudly.

For the first time since arriving, Smirky acknowledged his twin's existence. Sort of.

"I'm so glad you asked; I dealt with someone who happened to be a cause of annoyance to us both, for different reasons."

The not-so-good doctor took a wild guess, straining his concussion-ed head just a 'lil smidge too much.

"BEN?"

"Don't be an idiot." Smirky sounded irate at the mere mention of the spider-hating, yum-yum stealin' elf's name.

"An evil potato clone of BEN?"

"Try this," The illusionist creepypasta dropped his voice to a sing-song pitch, "'round and 'round the cobbler's bench, the monkey chased the weasel~"

"N-No! It can't be- L-L.J?!"

"His blood was awfully sticky. I don't think I'll ever be able to wear those clothes again – what a shame."

Now things were starting to get foggy for Smiley. The room was spinning again; what happened to the floor? He'd received a nasty shock, far too much to handle.

"Heh... Heh... Heh..."

Smiley span dizzily on his heel, eyes rolling loonily. 

"-He's GoiNg tO fAiNT!"

"My, my. Change of plans; let's keep him in the dungeon instead."

Smirky moved out of alarm, lunging forward instinctively to catch the not-so-good doctor as he fell.

- Then he realized what he was doing and dropped his brother like a hot potato. "Um... Ew."

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A/N: Look at me! I'm a disembodied author's note! Wheeee~

Whew... Turns out, five pages in Word is seventeen in the Wattpad app. That's nuts! O.o
*cough* Not complaining too much. *cough*

Question Of Le Daybreak: What's your biggest Wattpad achievement so far?

Mine is reaching CBS's first anniversary. Or perhaps, getting CBS added to a reading list of my favourite Wattpad author. :3

Anydoodles, this author's note is getting long. I'll wrap it up with this; I thought I wouldn't have any internet connection by now, but as you can see, nothing's certain once again. Still, I'll leave all my messages and notifications for later. X.X

Have an awesome day, everyone! You're all beautiful, fabulous and my favourite kind of readers!

Toodle-doo!
Final Word Count: 1797.