Chapter Text
Martin woke up, darkness surrounding all of him. He was immobilized, scratchy cloth tied around his hands and eyes wrapped in a cord of similar material. As he came to, he heard the murmurs behind him. Biting his tongue to stifle the panicked whimper rising in his throat, Martin did his best to listen in.
“Consider it a trade, Michael,” a low voice said, its tone layered with the suaveness and confidence of a man who knew he’d already won. “I’ve no use for him anymore.”
“Watcher, I don’t want your measly archival-assistant table scraps,” another spoke.
Martin realized in horror that the first voice was, in fact, his boss, Elias Bouchard. Events from the night before came swimming back to him, one by one. He was getting Elias arrested. The cops came in, and then they were gone. Just disappeared. He remembered Elias smiling, monologuing like the villain he was about a foiled plan and how Martin was nothing but a nuisance to him, and then, he was out. He remembered those glowing, green eyes boring into his skull as he fell unconscious before he even hit the ground.
The second voice, that was a sound he’d never heard before. It filled his head with static and mouth with cotton. It was as if he touched seaweed in the ocean and he wanted to squirm away. It’s tone startled him, causing him to let loose a whimper from his quivering lips. The murmurs quieted, and he heard shuffling around him. Arms gripped his own as he was lifted out of his seat and guided with careful precision to a part of the room. Martin’s hands remained bound and eyes covered as he was turned to face someone.
“E-Elias? Is that you?” Martin stuttered, biting his tongue again to keep his fear at bay.
“Yes, Martin,” Elias replied curtly, the other voice making tutting sounds.
Martin’s arm hair rose as the static feeling continued to search his body, creating gooseflesh in its wake. He let out a quiet sigh of relief when it stopped, earning a chuckle from his boss.
“W-What do you want from me, Elias?” Martin managed to finally say. “I-I’m s-sorry about the cops. I swear, I didn’t-,”
“Hush, Martin, no more of this,” a hand covered his mouth, cutting his words off. “Don’t waste your breath. You’ll have lots of time for that with Michael.”
Michael , he thought. So that was that other person’s name. Martin clenched his hands together behind his back, his entire body shaking as he shut his eyes tighter. He stood there for a moment, mouth biting his lip, trying to keep his noises locked in his throat.
“Alright, Watcher,” the other’s, Michael’s, voice brought him back. “I’ll take your little pet. Send him in. I’ll be on the other side, wherever that is.”
Martin heard a door creaking open, and the shutting swiftly. The blindfold fell from his face and he squinted, blinking in a startled fashion at the sudden light, as dim as it was. Before him stood a yellow door in the middle of Elias’s office. His mouth fell open as he realized it wasn’t connected to anything. It loomed over him ominously, power radiating off its frozen form. As soon as Martin felt his bonds loosening from his wrists, he turned around, face ridden with shock as Elias coyly looked at him. Martin raised his hands to his body, rubbing them to ease the burning feeling of the harsh material that used to cover them.
“Elias-,”
“Go through the door, Martin. Don’t waste my time any more than you already have,” Elias replied curtly, taking a step towards the shaking man.
Martin didn’t turn around, but he did take a step back. “What’s behind it?”
Elias raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Why, death, of course. Silly boy, why else would I send you in?”
Martin’s blood ran cold. He didn’t respond, but he felt like he was about to faint. This was how he went. After everything with Jon. Maybe Jon was safe though, probably defeated Nikola. As long as he was okay in the end, that’s all that mattered.
“Go on, then. Michael’s waiting,” Elias said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Open the door.”
Martin’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned to face the yellow door in front of him. This was it. There was nowhere to run. He could try and fight Elias, but the man’s got powers he doesn’t even know of. Maybe death would be quicker than facing whatever monstrosity is behind the stand-alone door. Maybe he’d die the instant he crossed over. Maybe-.
“Enough thinking, Martin. Go. On,” frustration seeped through the edges of Elias’s tone and, on instinct, Martin took a step forward.
He reached a shaking hand toward the doorknob, fingers barely able to clutch the cool metal as they were quivering violently. Shutting his eyes, he grasped the knob firmly in his fist, and turned. The door swung open and Martin gasped.
On the other side, it was a pure acid dream. Martin had never done drugs, but this is exactly what he imagined them to look like. Inside the door, there was a hallway filled with other doors, all of different colors. The carpet was swimming with different shades of rainbow, causing his eyes to swirl the longer he looked at them. Every part of the inside was a different shape, different color, different everything. Paintings hung on the walls but every time his eyes glanced at them, they had turned into a different one. Martin wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t. The constant brightness and also darkness wanted to swallow him whole, and he would let it, as long as he could stare at the hallway just a bit longer.
He felt a hand on the small of his back and before he knew it, he was plummeting through the doorway. Martin let out a pained yelp as he landed awkwardly on his arms and knees, scraping himself on the carpet. The rug burn stung as he clamored to his feet and turned around. Behind him was just a wall, no door in sight. The spell of the colorful hallway immediately wore off as he smacked a hand onto the swirling wall before him.
“Elias!” he screamed, pounding on the wall. “ELIAS! Elias, I’m sorry, please let me out. I’ll do anything. P-Please, I’m-,”
“He can’t hear you, little assistant,”
Martin whipped around, pushing himself back against the wall he was just hitting. There was nothing in front of him. He was, seemingly, alone.
“W-Who-, w-where are you?” Martin stuttered, blinking away tears that have started to well up in his eyes.
A laugh spiraled through the hallway and Martin fell back on the ground, the wall that he was leaning against, disappearing. He hit his head on the carpet, groaning in pain as he stared up at the swirling ceiling.
“I am not a who, assistant, I am a what,” the laugh started up again, causing Martin to shut his eyes as the sound made him feel as if his brain was turning to mush.
Great. He was going to be killed by some random entity. Probably in a ridiculously painful way. An entity he can’t even see.
Gathering up the last bit of courage he had, Martin spoke, “I-If you’re going to kill me, you might as well show yourself to me instead of speaking like some bogus disembodied voice.”
The laugh sounded again, this time filled with obvious delight, “Eager, aren’t we?”
Martin got up on shaky legs, starting to back away from where the sound was coming from until he hit something solid. When he turned around, he gasped in terror, jumping back.
In front of him was a man. No, it wasn’t a man. It most definitely wasn’t human. The monster stood at a whopping seven feet tall, long, gangly limbs stemming from its torso. It looked like a child’s drawing and imitation of a person, all weird angles and wrong proportions. Its hair haloed around its head, blond, curly, and wild just like the rest of his body. Michael’s eyes swam with colors that matched the hallway they were in, forever shifting and changing. Its smile was curved and enormously large, teeth bared and sharp. But its teeth were nothing compared to its hands. Martin almost fainted at the sight. Its fingers were much longer than a normal human’s, curved and sharp like impossible knives. They were at least 30 centimeters long each, but they were both growing and shortening as he gaped. He thought he might be cut just by looking at them for too long. A monster stood in front of him, and Martin was paralyzed.
The creature tilted its head, smile widening even more. It took a step towards him, looming over the man. “Left you speechless, little assistant?”
Martin tried to say something, say anything , but all that came out was a whimper as his eyes never left Michael’s face. It leaned closer, inches away from his neck. Was it sniffing him?
“Your fear smells wonderful ,” it sighed contently, “Delightful.”
At this, Martin’s tear ducts suddenly remembered how to work, as his eyes let loose a few stray droplets. Michael moved back, studying the frozen man in front of it. Martin was shaking, terror-stricken, scared to open his mouth because he couldn’t control what noises would come out. He shut his eyes, hoping that his death would at least be fast. What shocked him was when he felt a light hand on his chin. He flinched back out of instinct, but its hand held him still. He opened his eyes, glancing down at the elongated, sharpened fingers that covered half his face. They looked human, but felt like leather; it felt wrong.
He shut his eyes again, feeling Michael swipe a few tears with those fingers that threatened to cut him if he even moved a centimeter. It was surprisingly gentle, which made Martin cry harder. One last feeling of faux safety before it killed him. A trap, just another illusion, like this entire place was.
“Just make it quick, p-please,” Martin whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Michael made a thoughtful sound. “Make it quick?”
“Just kill me quickly, I-I don’t want it to hurt, I’m begging you,” Martin said, letting his head drop as Michael’s hands left him.
“Begging, are you now?” Martin could hear the smile in its voice, which made him tremble even harder. “Get on your knees.”
This is it. It’s over. Martin let himself drop to the floor like a man to his execution, which he presumed to be true. He sobbed quietly as Michael threaded its fingers into his hair to keep his head from dropping.
“Are you going to do what you said, little assistant?”
Martin swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat. “P-Please k-kill m-me,” he stuttered.
He waited, holding his breath. Michael continued to pet him, saying nor doing anything, as he finally quieted down, feeling the thin fingers shifting on his head. Martin now only took in shaking breath after breath, heart racing in his chest.
“Sadly, I won’t kill you, dear assistant. But, I must admit, your begging was quite amusing,” Michael murmured, hand curling around a strand of hair. “Wouldn’t want to satisfy the Watcher so quickly now, would we?”
Its fingers left his hair and Martin opened his eyes, but the monster was already gone. He was alone again. The man knew he probably shouldn’t open any of the doors around in the hallway, so he curled in on himself and passed out from exhaustion.