Dr. Schneeplestein woke on his cot in the office and rubbed his eyes, grabbing his glasses. He yawned, trying to shake off the feeling of still being tired and got up, heading into the sick ward. He watched Dr. Iplier for a moment before he sighed. "Did you sleep?"
"Yeah." Dr. Iplier shrugged. "I got up early. I just wanted to check some vitals after things were quiet in here for the night. I wondered if we were affecting them."
"Ve are not-" Dr. Schneeplestein suddenly stumbled, catching himself on the edge of a cot, but ended up collapsing onto his knees anyway.
Dr. Iplier's eyes widened. "Doctor?" He gasped, walking closer. "Did you trip?"
Dr. Schneeplestein swallowed hard, staring at the ground. "I vas standing still. Mine knees just... gave out."
"Phase one." Dr. Iplier shifted. "Extreme fatigue."
Dr. Schneeplestein glared up at him. "No. I am fine."
Dr. Iplier shook his head. "You need to go back to bed." He took the doctor's arm, helping him to his feet. "I'll-"
"No!" Dr. Schneeplestein yelped, grabbing at the other doctor's lab coat, eyes wide. "If I get in zat bed now, I'll never get out of it."
Dr. Iplier frowned, nodding and lead the other to the couch in the sick ward, forcing him to sit down. "Relax."
Dr. Schneeplestein leaned back. "You're going to do zhis all alone? Mark and Jack von't come over, afraid zhey'll catch it if zhey haven't already." He shook his head. "Zhere's too much vork. I have to-" He tried to get up, and Dr. Iplier easily pushed him back down by his shoulder.
"Rest." Dr. Iplier sighed. "I'll... find help."
Closing his eyes, Dr. Schneeplestein sighed. "You've been tired too, yeah?"
Dr. Iplier swallowed hard. "I'm not the one who collapsed."
"Yet." Dr. Schneeplestein huffed. "Vork quickly... zhough I feel ve are out of time already."
Dr. Iplier headed upstairs and made his way into ward one. He stalled, watching Camera Jim filming Reporter Jim's ear while he slept. "Jim?" Dr. Iplier sighed.
"Shh..." Camera Jim glanced over his shoulder, then looked back to the other Jim. "We are trying to capture Jim's dreams."
"Right..." Dr. Iplier sighed, looking around the rest of the room. Anti was asleep, sitting up in the corner, his form periodically glitching. Dark was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, while Wilford was laying beside him, asleep. "Dark?"
Dark slowly turned his head, watching the doctor. "It is a low energy kind of day."
Dr. Iplier frowned. "I could really use your help."
"My help?" Dark questioned.
"Schneep collapsed..." Dr. Iplier sighed.
Dark sat forward, staring at him. "We are doomed."
"I can do this!" Dr. Iplier huffed.
Dark chuckled. "I was not doubting your abilities." He stood up, cracking his neck and walked closer. "It is only a matter of time before you collapse as well, is it not? And you are no closer to finding a cure?"
"The Host... responded to a drug trial. Maybe? He..." Dr. Iplier sighed. "He thinks he's the Author."
"What drug did you give him?" Dark narrowed his eyes.
Dr. Iplier shrugged. "I don't remember now. We have notes. We've... we've been trying everything, Dark."
"So the Host is recovering?" Dark asked.
"No." Dr. Iplier frowned. "He still seems to be declining. But maybe it would buy us more time?"
Dark nodded. "Have you given the drug to any others?"
"A few." Dr. Iplier shifted.
"Any improvements?" Dark asked.
Dr. Iplier sighed heavily. "None."
Dark placed his hands behind his back, which the doctor found oddly comforting. "So, we are no closer to finding a cure."
"No." Dr. Iplier swallowed hard.
Dark slowly nodded. "How would you like us to help?" He asked before he turned and swatted Wilford's side, quickly moving back.
Wilford sat up, a knife suddenly in his hand. "What?!"
"Good morning." Dark smiled. "The doctor is in need of our help."
Wilford slowly turned, watching the doctor, and then pointed his knife at him. "I was sleeping!"
"I didn't wake you up!" Dr. Iplier yelped. "Dark did!"
Wilford tucked his knife away, stretching as he shook his head at Dark. "Ya scoundrel."
"Mm. The doctor needs our help." Dark explained again, before looking to Dr. Iplier. "What do you want us to do?"
Dr. Iplier nodded and lead them downstairs as he explained some of the routine check ups they had been preforming. "Mostly I just need you to help Dr. Schneeplestein keep an eye on the sick ward while I go talk to Jackieboy. We found out he may have crossed into the next phase yesterday but we didn't have time to deal with it. I was going to have Dr. Schneeplestein do it since he's more familiar with him... but... I guess I'm doing it now."
Dark nodded and walked through the room, looking over the cots with a stoic expression and then sat on the edge of King's cot. "Do what you must, doctor."
Dr. Iplier watched Wilford a moment, before he sighed. "I'm not sure if Will is going to be the most helpful."
"Everyone loves to see Wilford Warfstache." Wilford grinned.
"I am here." Dark promised. "Everything is under control."
Dr. Iplier sighed, nodding slightly and made his way upstairs and into ward three. He sat down on the floor beside Jackieboy's air mattress and the sleepy hero opened his eyes. "Morning Jackieboy." Dr. Iplier smiled. "Can you tell me what you do?"
"What I do?" Jackieboy frowned.
Dr. Iplier looked down at his clipboard, then back to the man. "Do you save people? Are you a hero?"
"No." Jackieboy shook his head.
"Do you know who Jack is?" Dr. Iplier asked.
Jackieboy's brow furrowed. "Uh... my friend?"
Dr. Iplier nodded slightly, writing out a few notes. "Do you know where you are?"
Jackieboy glanced around the room and sighed. "I'm... sick? I think... this is a hospital."
"Good." Dr. Iplier sighed. "Do you know what you're wearing?"
Jackieboy looked down at the red jumpsuit and sighed. "Is this hospital clothing?"
Dr. Iplier glanced at him, then wrote more on his clipboard. "I'm going to to take some vitals." He explained, pulling the stethoscope from around his neck and began listening to Jackieboy's heart.
Meanwhile back in the sick ward, Wilford was hovering over Robbie's cot, watching the zombie carefully. Dark groaned. "Will, leave him alone. He's sick."
Wilford looked over at Dark, then back down at Robbie. "How?"
"Wilford! Leave him be!" Dark snapped, his aura flaring out in a bright red.
Wilford huffed, and sat down on Yandere's cot. Yandere opened his eyes and frowned. "Where's the doctor?"
Wilford shrugged. "Wilford's here now."
"You don't look like a doctor." Yandere muttered.
Wilford shifted, wiggling his mustache as he thought, then turned to Yandere, tilting his head. "Well, no. I'm Wilford Warfstache."
Yandere groaned softly, closing his eyes. "Ok."
"Yan." Wilford shifted, shaking his shoulder slightly. "You know me." Yandere's eyes opened again and he slowly shook his head. "Yes, you do! Everyone knows me. I'm THE Wilford Warfstache." Wilford jumped off the cot and pulled out his knife to show Yan with an excited smile. "Remember this beauty?"
Yandere's eyes widened and he squirmed back in his bed. "Help!"
Dark stood, frowning as he approached the cot. "Wilford, put that away."
"He loves my knife." Wilford frowned. "He's tried to take it a few times. Wanted to show his Senpai."
Dark nodded, placing a hand on Wilford's arm and lowered it. "Put it away." He turned to the bed, sighing. "Yandere?"
"Who are you people?" Yandere whimpered. "Where's... doctor. Doctor?" He shifted, grasping at the side of the cot to try and get up, but didn't posses the strength to even sit up.
Dark sighed, gently shuffling Wilford away, as the man sheathed his knife again. "It is alright, Yan. We are not going to harm you."
Dr. Schneeplestein leaned against Dark, giving a small wave to Yandereiplier. "It is alright. Zhey are here visiting. Zhey are allowed."
Yan stared at Dr. Schneeplestein a moment, then looked over his lab coat, and seemed to settle a bit. "Doctor..." He groaned. "I feel hot."
"Yes. I know." Dr. Schneeplestein nodded. "You vill be cold soon." He sighed.
Dark took Dr. Schneeplestein's arm to help steady him. "You should not be up."
"He has no idea who he is." The doctor confirmed as Dark lead him back to the couch.
Nodding slightly, Dark sighed. "Is that where the disease goes?"
Dr. Schneeplestein dropped back down on the couch with a grunt. "I am afraid so. Ve have learned much... just not how to cure it I am afraid. Ze exhaustion, ze erratic vitals, zhen memory loss and personality changes. And ze memory loss... it does not seem to follow a pattern. Zhere is long term and short term losses, vhile ozher long term and short term memories exist. It makes no sense. Ve don't have equipment to monitor brain waves or scan zhem... it could be a virus running rampant in our minds." He shook his head. "Drugs haven't been vorking, shock zherapy does nozhing-"
"Shock therapy?" Dark rose an eyebrow.
"Ve have tried everyzhing. Ve... vere getting desperate." Dr. Schneeplestein shrugged before closing his eyes. "Do not vorry. Zhey barely know vhere zhey are half ze time. Zhey veren't upset about any of it."
Dark sighed, turning to watch Wilford. The mad man was oddly quiet, standing perfectly still in the corner, his face void of his usual smile. He was staring intently at Yandereiplier while the man slept. Suddenly he turned, watching Dark. "Is this a joke?" Dark turned to glance at Yandereiplier, hearing Wilford beginning to ramble. "Of course. A joke! Yan, you scamp! Pretending you don't know me-"
"Will, perhaps you should go back upstairs." Dark stated, looking back at him.
Wilford shifted. "It's a joke, right Damien?"
Dark's eyes widened. "Who am I?" He demanded.
Wilford shivered a little, caught off guard by the low rumble and sudden raised voice. He frowned, then tilted his head. "Dark?"
Dark let out a relieved sigh. It was Wilford's normal memory lapses, not the illness. "I will talk to Yan about his joke. Please go upstairs and keep an eye on the Jims."
"I always have to look after the Jims." Wilford rolled his eyes. "But I'm not allowed to shoot 'em. How am I supposed to control those wild cats?" He rambled, but slowly left the room and headed upstairs.
Dark turned, looking over the cots in the room and then sat down beside Dr. Schneeplestein. "How long do we have?" He asked, and when he didn't receive a response, he looked over to find the doctor sleeping, and merely sighed, keeping an eye over the others.
In another part of town, at Mark's house, Jack hadn't heard from Mark since he had gone for his nap yesterday. He sat on the couch, petting Chica as the knot grew in his stomach until he couldn't take it. Making his way to Mark's bedroom, he gently knocked on the door. "Mark? Buddy? You ok in there?" When all he got in response was a groan, Jack took a deep breath and opened the door.
Mark was curled up in the bed on his side, his face damp with sweat as he looked over with half lidded eyes. "I feel... like shit." He uttered.
"You look like shit." Jack responded, instantly regretting it. His first instinct was to make a joke, but he was actually pretty concerned for his friend. They didn't know how the disease would effect non-egos. It could be something serious. "I'll order an Uber."
"Why?" Mark sighed.
"We're going to the hospital." Jack answered as he pulled out his phone to order the ride.
Mark shook his head. "I'll go. You don't need to-" He turned his head, coughing into his pillow and whined.
"I'm not sending you out there alone. Whatever you were going to say, don't. I'm coming." Jack muttered.
Not having it in him to fight, Mark just nodded. Jack pulled the door closed and waited outside the room while Mark got up and changed into something he would be comfortable in at the hospital. Jack helped him out to the Uber, and they went to the emergency unit. They couldn't explain to the nurse doing triage that they were worried he had some dangerous, contagious disease, because they had no proof. Jack simply asked for a mask, which was given to them and Mark put it on before sitting down to wait.
"I'm so tired." Mark yawned.
Jack sighed. "I know. Just stay awake until we see a doctor, alright?"
Mark nodded a bit, handing his wallet to Jack. "All my... insurance information is in there."
"Right. Your system is different than ours." Jack sighed, looking through his wallet to make sure he understood the information as he filled out the forms they had been given, asking Mark questions as he went.
When everything was filled out, and Mark was resting as they waited, Jack hopped onto his phone, setting up one of the Anti videos to post during his usual upload time. He hadn't had time to record anything and now sitting with Mark in the hospital for who knows how long, he wouldn't get time. He didn't want the fans to worry, and Robin already being worried was bad enough. Not knowing what to say, he'd tried to pass this whole trip off as visiting Mark, but the longer he was in LA without posting videos with any of his friends, the more suspicious Robin was. Now, with Jack claiming he had edited his own Anti videos, Robin was asking a lot of questions, none of which Jack had answers for, so he'd been brushing the man off.
It hurt him to lie to his close friend, but the truth wasn't going to be any better. It only would have concerned Robin more. If he believed the crazy story, then Jack could be sick with a possibly deadly and unknown disease, and if he didn't believe him, then it sounded like Jack was losing his mind. It was a lose lose situation really.
Back at the make shift ego hospital, Dr. Iplier had finished checking over Jackieboy and was just standing up when he noticed the Silver Shepherd gasping for air. He sighed heavily and sat down beside his mattress, patting his arm. "You're alright Shepherd." He promised. When the man's breathing stopped, he slowly stood, waiting a moment for it to start again. When it started, Dr. Iplier turned to leave until the hero started thrashing. "Shepherd?" He gasped, dropping down beside the bed again.
The Silver Shepherd pulled at the hole in his mask, grunting. "Help! Help!"
Dr. Iplier's eyes widened as he grabbed the man's arms. "Help with what? What is it?"
"It's got me! It's on my face!" The Silver Shepherd shouted.
Dr. Iplier sat him up and pulled his mask over his head before looking at his face. "What?" He asked, looking for signs of rash or wounds.
"Thank you..." The Silver Shepherd panted, staring at the head portion of his costume that now hung around his neck.
"The mask?" Dr. Iplier sighed. "It's your..." He hesitated, then nodded. "Are you a super hero?"
The Silver Shepherd chuckled. "Me? No."
Dr. Iplier nodded. "You're in the hospital. You're sick. Do you remember?"
"Yeah... that sounds... familiar." The hero nodded as Dr. Iplier gently laid him back down on the air mattress.
"You need rest." Dr. Iplier stated, getting up and quickly left the room. He shook his head, hugging his clipboard close as he rushed downstairs.
"Yan does not know us." Dark snarled, as the doctor entered the room.
Dr. Iplier stopped, staring at him. "No. He doesn't."
"When were you going to tell us how bad it is?" Dark growled.
"Who does that help?" Dr. Iplier huffed. "The zombie doesn't seem to recognize his own limbs, Yan doesn't know who he or anyone else is, King isn't even sure if he likes squirrels now... ward three is starting to forget who they are, ward two is experiencing the fluctuating vitals and everyone is feeling the fatigue now." He ranted, squeezing his clipboard tightly. "Not a thing we do, changes anything or slows this down! Mark and Jack wouldn't come over yesterday because they were feeling tired, and were worried they had it and then today... they're not even answering us! Do you feel better? Did you want to know it all? Because there it is!" Dark just watched him calmly as Dr. Iplier walked closer. "If I thought there was a damn thing you could do, I would have told you... but there's not. You can't talk your way out of this one, Dark."
Dark took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts as his aura flickered around him. "You said the Host had shown improvement."
"He hasn't narrated at all today." Dr. Iplier grumbled, walking over to the bed, and gently patted the man's arm. "Author? Would you like to tell us a story?"
"Why would I?" The Host sighed.
Dr. Iplier closed his eyes. "Do we not deserve a story?"
"I don't know any stories." The Host explained.
Dr. Iplier opened his eyes, looking over at Dark. "The answer is no. He's still declining." He walked back towards the couch, shaking his head. "I think you were right... we're doomed."
"More doubt." Dr. Schneeplestein grunted, opened his eyes. "Perfect."
"You were saying it yourself this morning, so don't start with me!" Dr. Iplier snapped.
Dark stood, taking Dr. Iplier's arm and motioned him to sit. Sighing, Dr. Iplier slumped onto the couch beside Dr. Schneeplstein. "I think you are tired, doctor."
"Of course I am." Dr. Iplier looked up at him, his eyes beginning to water. "I don't have time to be tired."
Dark looked around the room, before looking over the exhausted doctor before him. Clearly the man felt responsible for something he had no control over from the beginning. As the realization washed over the dark entity, that there was nothing he could do, his aura collapsed in on him. His fight for revenge and at this point, even survival in this world, calmed. "Of course you do." Dark sighed, giving up on trying to be who he was supposed to be. He was tired, and no one was making it out of this house. "Relax awhile. I am sure the answer will come to you, when you feel more rested."
Dr. Iplier frowned, though there always had been something comforting and convincing about Darkiplier. He hesitantly nodded, and relaxed into the couch. "I will take care of everything." Dark promised, watching the doctors close their eyes. Slowly he made his way over and sat down on the edge of King's cot, just looking around the room. He wasn't sure if any of them could really die, but if they lost all of their memories, it wouldn't be much different. He found himself wondering if they would all end up like Wilford Warfstache, and casually tried to decide on a lunatic name to adapt as he watched the others sleep.