Otherside.

Mark Tene lit another cigarette in the darkness. Leaning against the cold stone walls, he looked calm, almost serene. Walls scarred with more obscure writing than he had ever seen, things he hadn't even bothered to attempt to decipher. The floor was grated so one could see the darkness below it, and though there were light sounds of heavy iron machinery, nothing but blackness could be seen. This was easily the least unsettling room, but also the least interesting. It was simply the "foyer", and did that job without offering any other hints to follow. No clues for him to find what he sought. Nothing but an archway that led further down into the ruins, and a way home. Something Tene was in no way interested in. What was deeper down in the abyss was much more important. As the hole growled, letting another figure in, Mark barely even looked up. He knew who it was. Mark simply took another drag from his cigarette.

"What took you so long?" he asked the man in the suit.

"Todd was there. He was just tying up loose ends," Rockwell responded, dusting himself off. The hole was in no way a pleasant experience to endure.

"Guess he was late. Or else he'd be dead by now." Rockwell would have a hard time replacing every employee in the building. Everyone that had died when the portal was opened again. But Mark didn't really care, that was Rockwell's problem, not his. "Did he ask about me?"

Rockwell grinned. "I told him you were dead."

Mark flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, pushing himself off the wall and making his way to the archway.

"Good."

Mark Tene was different from all the others Rockwell had approached for this project of his. The most important difference being, that he didn't approach him. Mark found Rockwell. Not the story he told his colleague, but Rockwell soon learned that Mark was not at all what he appeared to be. The man was far smarter, and far more ambitious than one could imagine just by looking at him. Mark wanted one thing, and that was control, and the only way to get that was with knowledge. More knowledge than anyone could imagine. And if he had to step down into the deepest darkness to find it, why not? It only made the prize more appeasing. And if a few people had to die in order for him to get there, so be it. Sacrifices must be made. Always.

So when Mark looked into the hole on the day of the first accident, he did not look with fear, but with lust. Because that's where all of his answers lay. Within the hole.

The two men marched on deeper down the corridors. Passing through the archway they walked through what Mark dubbed "The Surgery Room", down the stairs, and through "The Cage Room", and continued on. They passed through a room which appeared to lead outside into a field at night, with no visible ceiling. But once they got over the hill, another archway welcomed them back into the dark. A room with nothing but white walls, and a room with padded walls with blood-covered thorns protruding out of them. Neither man tried to make sense of the rooms, just continued on, assuming they were going the right way, and as far as they could tell there was only one way. They finally stopped in a large cage-like elevator, which took them down for almost five minutes. Mark took this time to light another cigarette, while Rockwell attempted to contact the Voice, but to no avail. There had been no sound from the Voice for eight years. Not since the day of the first accident. The elevator came to a stop. Mark felt himself shiver, not because of the cold, for it oddly was never cold, it was almost uncomfortably warm. Exactly body temperature. No, Mark Tene shivered because of excitement. Because they had entered a new room. One with a staircase in the middle extending down into the abyss, and another archway on the other end; one that's interior inexplicably felt darker than the others. The walls were once again stone, like the first room, but instead of odd languages carved into them, the walls were bare. This is when something odd happened. First Rockwell heard the Voice, and then something even darker contacted Mark. Mark stepped down the first step and turned to Rockwell, who had begun to walk toward the archway. Mark did not hesitate in laughing, telling Rockwell that they would never meet again but if they did neither would recognize the other. He then walked down the stairs. Down deeper into the hole. Rockwell did not think much of Mark's prophecy. Instead he walked through the final archway, all the while thinking what the Voice had told him.

"Welcome back."

The final corridor was smaller than the rest, barely big enough for Rockwell, or you could say it was made for Rockwell. But he thought nothing of this, walking farther down, until the end of the corridor, where the final opening was covered by something. Corn. Rockwell only paused for a second before walking through the maize. The floor remained stone, but the plants grew out of it nonetheless. The walls, too, were stone; the ceiling, however, turned only to darkness. Through the corn, Rockwell came to a clearing, hearing the cry of a baby. In the clearing there were two burnt bodies, and in the center of the two, a crater. However, there was nothing inside, but the sound of the infant was no doubt coming from inside the hole. Rockwell walked into it, pausing only as memories flooded through him. Then he instinctively looked up. The room was empty once again, but something new was there with Rockwell. He heard the sound of gears shifting as something descended from the darkness above him. A body was lowered, attached to whatever machine by chains. A large, black stone was embedded in the body's chest, who had become nothing but a rust-colored figure. No features were recognizable. The body was lowered down until it was facing Rockwell. Only then did it speak.

"Welcome, Rockwell, to the End. Welcome, to the Beginning." It was the Voice.

"Who am I?" Rockwell asked the figure.

"You are Me."

"Then who are you?" Rockwell didn't hesitate to ask.

"I am you." Rockwell clenched his fists in anger.

"Then why did you bring me here? Why have I come here?" Rockwell nearly shouted at the suspended figure. No one could betray him. No one did and lived.

"You came to find something. Your colleagues had big dreams. Big ideas. Big plans for this hole. You had ones that would dwarf them all."

"What have I come looking for?"

"An Object."

Rockwell stared in disbelief. This far, for a simple Object? Not what Rockwell had been planning. Not what he wanted. What could be worth all the work he had gone through? But the Voice spoke as if it read Rockwell's mind, which is most likely did.

"You came for the most important Object of all. The Darkness in Light, and yet the Light in Darkness. The Balance, and yet The Chaos. This Object belongs to one you know of, but do not fully know. when He found the Object, he absorbed the Control, but released the Chaos, believing that he could not deal with both. You are here to prove to him you can do it. He holds the Control, but the Chaos remained here. In the Holder's hole. Where the brightest light cannot fight the darkness."

All of a sudden, the stone embedded in the Voice's chest began to glow. But it appeared to glow darkness. Rockwell realized that it was not a stone, but a crystal.

"Object number two thousand five hundred and thirty eight."

"Legion's Object," Rockwell said out loud without meaning to. He couldn't understand how this had occurred, or how it was here, but Rockwell decided not to question it. The time for questions was over, it had become a time for action. Rockwell gripped the crystal with both hands trying to pull it out of the body, as everything faded to black. Screams erupted from every direction as Rockwell only pull harder. Right before he succeeded, right before darkness enveloped his mind, the Voice spoke out one last time.

"Now show us your smile."

Rockwell awoke in the basement of the lab. On his right arm was the chain, wrapped around it. Somehow, it had returned with him. The hole was gone, leaving not even a scar on the wall. But he also felt something else. Where there once was a heartbeat, there was a pulse. A different kind. One that pumped him full of something other than blood. Something much darker. Something much stronger.

Rockwell smiled. There was work to do.