Roosevelt stepped into the entry hall to be met with an interior straight out of Greek mythology. The sides of the circular hall were ringed with columns made of divine looking white marble. These columns held up a roof made up of the same marble-like substance that they were made from.
Strangely, as one looked through the spaces between the pillars gone were the genre-crossing buildings and grassy turf. Instead what now stood between them was a cold and unfeeling void, the same void that made up the sky of the previous realm.
Roosevelt was confused. Had he not just entered a normal, garden-variety building beforehand? He shrugged his shoulders, wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened today.
He took in his surroundings some more, the air was crisp, cool and smelt slightly of lilacs. In a way that was both pleasant, noticeable and fragrant whilst not being too powerful and pungent. The floor too was beautiful, having been carved intricately with what he considered a masterpiece that depicted a battle between two factions. Good and evil.
It was at this point that he heard the slight tapping reminiscent of a person on a typewriter. It insistently plugged away, injecting a sense of normalcy into the place with the mundane nature of the noise.
Roosevelt looked around more and saw a large desk at the centre of the structure that had definitely not been there before. The thing was made solidly and of good material, the wood having a luxurious dark sheen to it. On the desk's surface was the before mentioned typewriter along with a stack of seemingly important papers and a mug of coffee that upon further inspection read 'World's Greatest Disembodied Voice.'
"Approach the desk child." Boomed a loud but not overly oppressive voice in a deep and rumbling baritone. It spoke from no recognisable place, the voice seeming to come from every inch of the room. Truly the worlds greatest disembodied voice thought Roosevelt.
He approached the desk, his bare feet slapping coldly and loudly against the marble floor. He approached to within a few feet of it before gingerly placing the slip of paper he had been gifted by the prefectorial administrators before. The paper was suddenly and without enveloped in a menacing glow of dark shadow before disappearing with a screech, leaving Roosevelt standing alone, slightly cold and without purpose in the grandiose hall.
"Horror dorm, hmm. Strange choice for a human and a scholarship student to boot. No matter, I shall not question your methods. Know this though, if you enter the academy proper than you shall have crossed a line that you may no longer uncross. Do you still wish to proceed?" It asked ominously, hinting at some kind of punishment for attempted escape. No matter, Roosevelt did not plan on it, after all, what did he have to go back to?
"Yes, I accept. Take me to my dorm." He spoke gravely, knowing he had just made the biggest decision of his life.
"So be it mortal, welcome to The Grand Academy for Villainous Individuals. I am Ome, great being of the void and administer of the academy, summon me if you have any problems, vile wretch. Now go, leave my domain.
As Ome said this Roosevelt suddenly felt a feeling of unease pass over him and he soon began to emit the same miasma of shadow that his dorm paper had, next thing he knew he was hurtling through the void.
Soon, and with no warning, he was thrust back into the light and also into the landing of an old, Victorian style house. It had a wooden finish, with the skirting boards to both the roof and floor being made out of dark timber whereas the roof, floor and walls themselves were made of a white marble reminiscent of Ome's Domain.
On his left, right and directly in front of him stood three different hallways each marked by a metal tablet above it, they read. Male, Female and Other. It seemed that even here dorms were separated by gender.
Roosevelt set off for the leftmost hallway marked under the designation of Male. And in the doing so he passed under a poorly made banner, crafted out of what appeared to be a kind of skin, human probably, and on said banner written in what looked like blood were the words. Welcome all freshman and returning students please follow the rules of the dorm provided for you in your room, wouldn't want to end up as next year's banner, would we?
Suitably unnerved Roosevelt continued on, just now noticing the fact that the form containing his dorm number was still clutched tightly in his hand, interesting.
He followed the hall for several minutes, reading the numbers off the doors and progressively getting closer to his own, 567. As he neared his dorm room the hallway began to change, it started with a flicker of lights before eventually, the entire interior of the place was akin to that of a dingy hospital, outfitted with the occasional wall-bound bloodstain.
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565, 566 ah, finally 567. Exclaimed Roosevelt internally as he reached his room, the metal door of which reminded him of his stay in the mental institute.
He shuddered, bad memories. Reaching out to grab the handle he felt a slight electric shock. Shaking his head he powered on and warily clutched the handle before turning it, pulling open the door and walking inside.
The interior of his room was quite... Normal, in fact, it seemed slightly off that a school made for villains and one that Roosevelt had seen break various laws of physics and plain human decency would have such normal and unassuming rooms. He didn't know what he was expecting really, maybe something a little more, grand. At least a shark pool, that couldn't have been too much to ask for could it?
Slightly annoyed he sat down on his bed in a huff and crossed his newly freed arms. In the doing of this though he had disturbed a letter which had been previously placed on his pillow.
It was made of slightly yellowed parchment and was sealed with an ancient red wax seal depicting a skull. Wow, Roosevelt thought, very original.
He cracked the seal with slightly too much vigour for one to consider 'normal' he was eager to destroy the offending piece of cliche wax. When opened, the letter began to do something very odd. It began to burn in slow motion, the fires ever so slowly creeping up the page and turning it into ash. As it did this, however, a voice began to echo from the pages, having consumed the page as fuel for some sort of spell.
"Greetings student and welcome to The Grand Academy for Villainous Individuals. A place where we only slightly value learning over the misery of our students and faculty, muahahaha! Anyway, as you are well aware this is no normal school and you are no normal student. Every year the school's administrative being known as Ome decides on five new and promising evil individuals to be enrolled. This year he picked you. Now as a scholarship student you shall be clothed, fed and have your school fees paid by the academy so consider yourself lucky knave. Regardless, you shall still have to attend class even with your privileged status, now, enough of the boring stuff lets get on with things every new student needs to know."
"If you ever have any problems be sure to summon Ome, this can be done by loudly shouting his name. Don't worry about waking the other students the walls are very sound proof for, uh, reasons. Anyway, when you are ready please summon Ome and set out your class schedule for the year."
"Finally know that if you ever try to leave the school grounds or betray us than we shall do our utmost to ensure you die a slow and painful death. Any question? No? good." And with that letter burnt up entirely, flaring with its last vestiges of life into an all-consuming black inferno.
Roosevelt sat there, stunned into silence by the letter before breaking out in a loud and vigorous bout of celebration at his good fortune and a slight montage of him pulling out and trying on various outfits from his dresser. It seemed to acquiesce to his specific desires for garments and produce whatever it is Roosevelt wanted in the moment.
After this, he lay down on his bed, physically exhausted as well as mentally. On the upside, however, he was now clad what could only be described as a crime against fashion. With its rainbow patchwork suit jacket and pants paired with a white dress shirt and ghastly pinstriped tie, the outfit was truly a monstrosity that only the most tortured of minds could dredge up.
"Ome." He said wearily into the open air, equally eager to thank the being that had changed his life as he was to set out his classes. He was met with a certain black, shadowy cloud welling up within the centre of his room. It stayed for a few seconds and then dissipated revealing the same well-dressed man that he had originally met several hours before.
"Why is it you have summoned me mortal- Oh wait, it's just you. Suppose you want to work out your class schedule."
"Steve? Steve!" He said questioningly at first before recognition took over and he began to profusely thank the being known as Ome or Steve for inviting him into the academy.
"Jesus son no need to gush, it was my pleasure. I delight in corrupting tortured souls." He said while licking his lips hungrily. "Anywho we really should be getting this class schedule out of the way."
"Yes, I suppose we should." Said, Roosevelt, as he walked over to his makeshift kitchen, grabbing something. "But first, would you like some tea?" He said as he turned, revealing a kettle clutched in his pale hands.
"I would love some." Ome/Steve said as he began to sit down and make small talk as Roosevelt began to boil some water.
Later, after it was all over. Ome would wonder where a boy raised in a mental institute had learned to make such killer tea. It was one of the great mysteries of the universe.