Austin had to reread the letter two more times before the insanity of it all had been fully comprehended.
'This is beyond fucked up,' Austin thought, frustrated at his lack of memory to help him identify what was really going on. 'Maybe I'm not insane. Maybe I'm not losing my mind. Maybe I'm just a normal person in an insane situation.' Austin chuckled darkly to himself.Β 'Or you could be an insane person in an insane situation. Ugh! Why can't I remember anything?'
As Austin growled in frustration to himself, he already began to put some of the few pieces he had of this insane puzzle together. RAIDRA[ pronounced as "radar" or "raider" Austin could distinguish but knew the 'A" was silent somehow] must be some kind of human organization who put him here for some reason. They must have been the ones supplying him food, water and clothes, which meant they were watching him somehow. And this Tetia Evermore lady must be their leader or something.
As Austin wondered why an organization called RAIDRA had sent him here the realization of him not being alone in this place had set in and he had to remember the note of no one and nothing as it seems is what this place was all about to guide him to the conclusion of not being sure he wanted to meet anyone period. He then remembered something else: that this was all part of something called 'The Labyrinth Project' but Austin didn't have enough variables to really guess anything more of what was really going on; his gut instinct, however, was telling him he wasn't that far off from the truth, though.
Even still, Austin knew the letter said not to trust anyone else outside the containment cell he'd been living in the past 3 months; the other 'tenets' like himself that also must be in their own containment cells were, according the letter, not who they may appear to be π he knew what the letter said, but actually being able to converse with someone outside his own mirror reflection sounded a little promising despite the possible risks of danger the letter said doing so would imply.
'Open the containers,' the Voice in his head seemed to have been summoned by that last thought, but it took Austin a moment to recognize the Voice's words. 'Open the containers. Gear up. Prepare.'
Austin looked at the container boxes at the far side of his cell - They had been locked and unbudgeable for all the time Austin had been there; ever since day one, Austin would try to open them, curious as to what what inside, but they would open; their top seemed to be seared into the steel containers somehow, with the same crest metallized onto the lock as the seal that sealed the letter he found. Yet, when he tried this time, it worked. It opened. And what was inside one of them was filled to the brim with protein bars, nuts and fruits while a smaller one had first aid supplies, rope, and an extra empty leather bound journal with a bottle of ink and a pair of black-feathered quills to write with. One even contained weaponry, though why would he need it both confused and scared Austin to think about. Would he have to kill someone? The thought sent shivers down his spine.
'No,' Austin thought as he examined the crate of knives, daggers and a thin-bladed sword. 'I will not kill. Never. No matter what.' He didn't know that this place was or who he was before this place, but he was not going to change who he was because of this place.
'You won't have to,' Austin didn't like the way the Voice phrased that thought, but, before he could address his discomfort, the Voice continued with 'You need to change clothes and prepare yourself; maybe bring your journal for therapeutic closure? You had 6 hours to prepare when the letter arrived. Now, you have 5 hours and 15 minutes remaining.'
Austin was not sure how exactly his subconscious could calculate time without him consciously being aware or, you know, without a clock, but he decided not to dwell on looking for such answers; Instead, he walked over to a supply crate with clothing supplies. He downed a pair of grey and black cargo pants, a long sleeve, black shirt and a grey jacket with an owl crest stitched to the back in black - the same owl crest Austin had seen as part of the seal's shield on the letter he received and the containers[supply box, supply crate, containers, whatever]: an owl positioned in front of a big, definite O. and, as Austin put on a pair of black running boots and sheathed a sword to his back, he had to force himself to think about why his jacket was branded with the symbol to the back later. The sword was the least uncomfortable[though still uncomfortable] of the weaponry he had strapped to himself; what was the most uncomfortable of the weapons sheathed throughout his body, but it was the numerous daggers and knives strapped across his body that really made him uncomfortable, like how they itched his ankles, upper arms, waist side and lower back through the sheath of his jacket pockets, waist sides and upper arm and ankles.Β
The irritating cuts and scrapes had him feeling like they were premonitions of cuts and scrapes he'd have to deal with in the future and his anxiety only increased at the thought. He managed to scrape the coil of rope through his belt loop of his cargo pants, but it was then, as he looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of an armed adolescent male possessing a short sword, multiple daggers and knives and a coil of rope with a one-strapped backpack filled with nuts, fruits and other supplies - It was then that he felt it; the familiarity - the rightfulness - of his reflection. The realization of how right it felt for him to be dressed and armed in such a way only tripled his thoughts that maybe he really was crazy, but he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he wasn't the one dressing himself - that the weapons he had dawned and armed himself up in such a way was more of a habit or a very, very deep instinct rather than just a guess of which weapon went where. And it was the realization that maybe he'd done this before scared the hell out of him.
'Focus,' the Voice urged, returning to Austin's head. 'You have 3 hours. Get the bag and finish packing the supplies. You will need them.'
Austin did as he was advised - Grabbing the backpack on his back, he went and finished packing the remaining supplies of the crates. He then grabbed the empty flask, walked back to the sink and filled it up with water before closing it and packing it in his jacket pocket. It was when he looked up into the mirror again that he saw it again: his hazel green/grey eyes too blue and vibrant to be real but much too illuminatingly glowing a hazel blue not to be unnerving; it had Austin stuck in place, like a deer in headlights. But what really had frozen Austin to his place was the fact that what he saw should've been impossible - his hazel eyes only had a few flecks of blue in them and they sure as hell don't glow - No, what really had Austin paralyzed to his spot was the fact that it wasn't the first time he'd seen it.
The first time he'd seen it - weeks ago - he had thought he began seeing things. How else would one explain his eyes glowing an unnaturally vibrant hazel-grey hue? And the voices - the Voice he hears in his head - That doesn't help.
Austin hadn't known how long he had been staring at his reflection through the mirror exactly, but when he heard the Voice again, it snapped him out of his haze so fast he flinched. 'Hey, Austin? Are you there?' the Voice asked him in his head. 'You've been staring at that mirror for a long time, you know.'
It took Austin a moment to recollect himself, before he habitually thought back with a 'Really? How long?'
'The door opened 3 minutes ago,' the Voice responded, causing Austin to stare behind him to see that the whole of the left wall of his containment cell had vanished, and, in it's place, there was a passage leading into darker tunnels that seemed to be made of metal.
"Damn," Austin punched the mirror, unsure of why zoning out pissed him off all of a sudden. 'Why didn't you tell me?'
 'I⦠I am not sure' the Voice responded back, sounding just as perplexed. 'But, another letter arrived before the door opened. It's over there.' And, as Austin tried not to focus too much on how he knew what direction to go based on the Voice's words, he turned and walked over to where a new letter laid against the wall with the same crested seal on it as Austin saw on the first one.