A cunning trap; a false cloak; the chains around his wrists looked ordinary, when, in reality, they were electrified.

Smiley desperately shook his head, begging, pleading with his friend to not touch them. Nothing was heard. His throat locked around his words.

He couldn't utter a sound.

In helpless silence, he listened to L.J's claws experimentally tapping around the walls, getting a feel of this place of imprisonment.

"Are you here, 'ol pal 'ol buddy 'ol friend?"

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Sound of claws touching up a wall, or a clock nearing the end of its cycle?

The moment the monochrome clown laid hands upon the chains, he'd be shocked with enough voltage to kill a horse.

Only a matter of time.

Zalgo may have been prime candidate for the world's most incompetent villain, but when he meant business... he meant serious business.

And today; his business was keeping Smiley prisoner.

Electrified restraints hadn't been the only trick up the demon's sleeve, oh no.

The not-so-good doctor had a muzzle strapped around his face, weighing down his head, keeping his transforming teeth behind iron and leather.

He couldn't breathe much.

It was the most uncomfortable thing imaginable, ranked next to finding a nude BEN sitting at the foot of your bed, slowly eating a chocolate-coated banana while staring you straight in the eye.

We're not sorry about giving you that mental image.
Here – have some brain bleach. Our new shipment arrived yesterday.

(Word count, word count, boosty, boost, boost! ;))

Now where was I? Oh yes; L.J blindly groping a wall while unwittingly nearing closer and closer to a... shocking surprise.

"If you aren't Smiley... D'ya know where I could find him?"

The not-so-good doctor considered throwing another tantrum against his rigged chains. They'd made an awful crackle last time, almost like a snap.

Was it worth the pain?

Almost as if reading his deranged mind, the chains fizzled. The vibrating buzz forced its way into his ears, driving him just a little closer to the edge.

The truth was, Smiley had reached a line, a boundary. The boiling point, the camel's back about to be broken by a straw, call it whichever you like.

He was dragging himself to his own grave.

In order for you to understand, we must go back to before this insignificant little buzzing sound. Before L.J entered the cell. We must rewind time.

No, not with an ocarina.

Back about... five minutes or so should do it. When L.J was still standing dumbfounded in the hall, and Smiley was- well...

[P r e v i o u s l y]

It felt like hours, days, had passed by.

But it couldn't be, rationalised the sensible part of his crazed mind, or you'd be dying of thirst and hunger.

The not-so-good doctor had settled in the silence, letting the reinforced chains keep him up against the wall. Left to his thoughts.

His mouth was muzzled, fitted with a guard, straps secured around his face, digging mercilessly into his already-chafed skin.

It made him feel like a feral animal.

Then again, that's precisely exactly what he thought himself to be, at that time. An animal; a beast that needed to be locked down and left to rot in a cell.

He should've been committed to a mental asylum years ago.

He should've been the one dragged off in a straightjacket; not his brother.

He was the liar.

Smiley flinched, his heart skipping a beat.

What kind of maniac did that to their own twin brother? You did. A brother whose only crime was being too, too forgiving? You broke him.

He'd lied to Smirky; he didn't wish he could take it all back; he wished he could go back in time and bash his younger self over the head with a brick.

Over. And. Over.

He wouldn't stop until the floor ran red, and all that remained was a mushy pulp.

Why, oh why? Why couldn't he have left it at the razor blade trick, apologised with an untampered gift, and never brought up the slightest suggestion of going outside?

Their mother and father would be the same. Smirky would've become a therapist like he wanted to. And he, Smiley, would still be a killer doctor, without any guilt or regret.

GUILTY. HEARTLESS.

GUILTY. LIAR.

MONSTER. MONSTER.

HEARTLESS. GUILTY.

MONSTER. MONSTER.

GUILTY. LIAR. GUILTY.

BLOODTHIRSTY MONSTER, GUILTY LIAR.

[ N o w ]

Was it worth the pain?

Almost as if reading his mind, the chains fizzled. The vibrating buzz irritated him to no end, and strengthened his resolve to the likes of steel.

SNAP.

(Monsters deserved pain, didn't they?)

The flood of shock rolled down his arms. His back seized, snapping him upwards like a stepped-on twig. His muscles jerked and twitched involuntarily, as though he were a puppet controlled by invisible strings.

For a terrifying second; he forgot how to pick up his breath, forgot how to breathe.

A noiseless gasp froze in his throat.

Like a keen dachshund, L.J's ears pricked up. He swivelled towards the source, and subsequently caught a crystal-clear view of the glowing sparks.

"Smiley! It really is you! I thought you might've died and left me all your stuff in your will-
I mean- that you met with a terrible fate!"

The voice, the cheerful voice. It melted the ice, it unfroze his breath. He choked, trying to gulp in air through the muzzle's grate.

(Put the yaoi pen away - I know you've got it out!)

As a result, he didn't see it.

He didn't see how L.J traced the chains to their source, found out they were being fed their power through nothing but a modified toaster nailed to the wall, and simply unplugged it.

A 'W-T-F' kinda look riddled his face.

Remember that statement we made earlier, involving the words 'Zalgo' and 'serious business'?

We take it back.

The prince of darkness was still top nominee for 'World's Most Incompetent Villain Of The Year' award.

(On a completely unrelated note, nobody knows who entered him into those mockery awards without his knowledge. Personally, we suspect the fairy godmother.

Laughing Jack's next order of business was to remove the cuffs. He slit them open end to end, registering a slight flinch from Smiley when his hand brushed over a wrist.

The moment they were freed, Smiley reached up with his other hand and tore at the muzzle; attacked it! With a little help, he slammed the godawful contraption to the ground.

And took a deep, grateful breath.

Thank you. His dull eyes flickered in the dark. No. He couldn't see swirl nor feather of his friend. Lost night vision. The sedative had been a strong one.

"Hope you weren't getting too comfy in there, kiddo."

This, as it would turn out, would be the only warning before the monochrome clown promptly teleported them both from the awful cell.

Though they were far from safe, the hall was a welcome change; a wide expanse of free room.

The ceiling loomed overhead, curved like a half eaten doughnut.

We could've used many other words to describe it, such as 'crescent curve' or 'domed roof', but I'm hungry. This paragraph has no relevance whatsoever with the plot.

Counting his blessings, Smiley sank down on trembling knees.

L.J attempted to hold him up, but then horrible flashbacks of the previous chapters raced through his swirly brain, and made him back off.

He panicked when his friend crumpled down to all floors, breathing guttural shudders of air.

"You can't die; You're the only doctor in the house!"

Regaining some kind of balance, Smiley pushed himself up to the nearest convenient wall, head tipped towards the ceiling, a muscle pulsing on his stretched neck.

The not-so-good doctor breathlessly shook his head, making a gesture with his unhurt hand.

"You want to order something from Mac Donald's?" L.J deciphered (most unsuccessfully, I might add).

One of Smiley's tired eyes twitched. He redid the gesture, mimicking scribbling on the floor with an imaginary pen.

"Oh! OH! You want something to write with?"

Thumbs up.

L.J plonked himself down opposite and started hunting through pockets that nobody knew he had. "Hold on, I've got something..."

He produced a notepad and pen, which he always kept on claw for some reason. Handy for things like writing down a random woman's address and such, I guess...

"Will this do?"

Judging by how Smiley practically lunged for the set and started frantically scribbling down words on it (like Light with a Death Note), the answer was yes.

He still suffered from the unfortunate condition known as 'Doctor's Handwriting', so there were awkward pauses in between the exchange, where L.J held the paper like an artist critiquing a piece of work, making sense of what it said.

We've omitted those moments, for your convenience.

Zalgo shot me up with special sedatives. My powers are gone, I'm exhausted, and I can't speak. It could take days to wear off.

"So you're doing just peachy then? Phew! I was worried for a minute!"

L.J exaggeratedly wiped his brow, but Smiley detected a hint of falseness in his carefree attitude. Nevertheless, the not-so-good doctor took up the notepad and continued.

Kagekao is a traitor. Kidnapped me and stole important files from Slenderman's study.

"I know... we had an- an unfortunate encounter. Smirky is the real one to blame; he was behind all that trouble with the kill lists and Fake Jack's attack."

A flicker of surprise washed over Smiley's face. Not due to L.J's words, but the implications behind them.

You didn't hurt him, did you?

"No. He was too busy kekekeing away to himself. Something about blackmail amongst," L.J cleared his throat, a blush creeping onto his porcelain cheeks, "... other things."

Frantic writing.

Not Kagekao.
SMIRKY

It was underlined for emphasis.

"Oh, him? No, no, didn't really get the chance... he's gotten much more sly and cunning. A year ago, I could've shredded him like paper." L.J sighed wistfully. "Good times."

Not his fault for trying to kill me.
Don't hurt him in revenge.

"Eh? Don't tell me he's being mind controlled by a demon or something; I've read that plot twist in tons of horror books and Zalgo probably doesn't even know how-"

Smiley thrust the notepad towards his swirly cone nose with enough force to impale it if necessary. (Thankfully for the nose, this was not the case.)

The action cut him off and forced him to read its new writing.

HE WON'T STOP UNTIL ONE OF US IS DEAD, OR I PROVE THAT I'M SORRY.

"Sorry for what? Not dying?" scoffed an incredulous L.J. "Or... is there something you need to tell me?"

The pen nib hovered a centimetre from the paper.

A drastic change had washed over Smiley's features.

In that moment, a painful truth opened to the not-so-good doctor. Even if his voice hadn't been stolen away by the sedatives first, he still wouldn't have been able to speak.

His words would've simply abandoned him.

This was the one and only chance he had to tell the truth.

So, filled with a lingering sense of dread, he began to etch his nightmarish confession onto the paper.

________________________
A/N: ... To be continued... next week! Muwhahaha!

Just kidding, just kidding. I've written the second part already; I'll post it tomorrow. No painful waiting for me to get off my lazy bum and write it a month later, dear reader!

Question Of Le Day: Can you guess what our not-so-good doctor's confession is about? I'll give you a hint: it definitely involves Smirky. Be Patient.
Quote of Le Day: Subliminal messages with double-meaning words are fun.

As always, thank you so much for reading this chapter of We're All Crazy Here! If you feel it deserves it, feed it a delicious star cookie! :3

'Till tomorrow comes... Toodle-doo~!
Final Word Count: 2000.