Chapter Text
“Anything?”
Daisy jolted at the entrance. Her eyes locked at an intruder as her hand drove to the holster in reflex and popped the securing strap on the gun. Her gaze glided up and down a man, who quickly shielded himself with shaking hands.
“Sorry! Sorry…” He said sheepishly, looking scared at the weapon about to be drawn.
Daisy huffed, irritated by the unnecessary commotion. She secured the handgun back, then crossed her arms, which was a cue for Martin to put his hands down. She refrained from giving a lecture about not sneaking up to a cop – his face reassured her he’ll remember that lesson.
“Sims booked here, but has never arrived.” She said unsatisfied as she moved from the entrance and leaned her back against the wall. “This is based on both the security footage and guest records.”
Martin let out a long tired sigh, obviously not happy from the news. It wasn't really surprising either. He knew it was a possibility, but he still was not prepared for this scenario – how to handle this or what to do next. He then looked at Daisy for some more information or her next step. But she remained silent. He frowned.
“Is that all you've got…?” He asked carefully.
He froze, expecting another harsh reaction from Daisy. From the third person's view it looked as if he poked a sleeping bear and was now getting ready to run for his life. Daisy didn't give it another thought. She remained her default cool and a bit “bored with life” expression.
“Yes. I had to press hard to get it out of the staff. The receptionist, the manager, the bookkeeper.” Daisy counted on her fingers. “They all had problems pointing that name in their slim booking records.”
Daisy sounded irritated when describing her dealing with the hotel staff, which discouraged Martin from asking more. He shook his head and stuffed hands in his pockets. His eyes went mindlessly along the street until they hit the city camera on one of the traffic light posts.
“And cameras? What about them?” Martin pointed at one installed on a post next to them. “They're practically everywhere. “
“I contacted the station before I came to listen to your tapes. They had some time to search through the footage.”
Martin's stomach gripped even tighter. Even though he shouldn’t expect much, every news, every possible lead made his anxiety and hope spike. Camera always meant a promising clue.
“Please tell me there's a good lead.” He pleaded with a weak voice.
Daisy made a face that let Martin know to not expect much. He pressed his lips with bitterness, trying again to accept it is possibly how it will look throughout the entire investigation – without a crucial clue being miraculously laid out for them, up and ready to just follow.
“There’s a clear image of Mister Sims leaving the building and heading down the street, but when there was time for him to appear in the next camera…. that never happened.”
Martin let out another gush of air. Now he remembered this wasn’t the first time cameras were useless in supernatural encounters. He must have hoped for this case being an exception from the rule.
“Maybe he sneaked by somehow?” He pushed further just in case.
“Impossible. The surveillance covers that area from every angle.” Daisy explained and spread her hands. “He just…”
“No, no.” Martin cut in abruptly. He refused to listen to that. “He couldn’t just disappear. So far any supernatural had left some traces, always. Either it happened very sneakily, out of sight or… or…” Martin didn’t want to speak the alternatives out loud..
“…or the video got manipulated?” Daisy finished for him. “Like Mister Bouchard once claimed to do?”
Martin’s face dropped in dread. Daisy obviously referred to how Elias admitted to everyone his capabilities of video manipulation, but he wasn’t that bold to suggest it out loud.
Bzzt! Bzzt!
Martin tensed upon it with his eyes staring wide at Daisy. His head itched as if he just had a sniper's laser point in the middle of his forehead. Daisy turned serious, as if the same feeling got to her as well. They shared the looks, before Martin squeezed his eyelids and reached into his pocket for a phone. He instinctively unlocked the screen and opened his eyes straight at the screen.
“‘I had nothing to do with it.’” Martin read it slowly. He released a held breath nervously. “You know, who.”
“Could be worse.” Daisy shrugged.
Martin looked back at the message. His hand involuntarily gripped tighter on the phone and he let out an irritated growl. Now he dared to watch over them, after he failed Jon when he needed it. Martin threw his hands up and asked out loudly:
“Don’t you have more important things to look after?!”
A person next to them looked at Martin crookedly then picked up the pace away from the scene, but Martin didn’t give them a second thought. His phone remained silent in his hand, to which he sighed and pocketed it. If that little outburst of his at least made him feel lighter, but now he only felt mild embarrassment.
“He did this to me a few times.” Daisy admitted nonchalantly.
Martin raised his glare at her. Maybe it was her attempt to ease her companion, but it only brought an opposite effect.
“Can you get used to it?” He asked mildly, praying to hear “yes”.
“No.” Much to his despair. “I just try not to think about it.”
Daisy shifted in place a bit, not able to fully hide her discomfort about her experience, which as well slowly seeped on Martin. Maybe they shouldn't press this matter further.
“Sure… So, um…” Martin hung his head low and kicked the air. “Nothing from the cameras… Nothing from the hotel…” He concluded and scratched his chin in ponder. “That’s… not good for us.”
The detective sucked her cheek, pondering over with eyes fixed on the pathwalk tiles.
“But not that bad.” She concluded suddenly.
“What do you mean?” Martin raised an eyebrow.
“That narrows our timeframe to just the evening of Sims’ disappearance.” Daisy gestured it by marking some distance with her index fingers, then shifting them much closer.
Martin nodded, but not without a frown. He felt like there was some twist, something that would set their investigation on the right track and he was ready to search for it. Yet Daisy was ready to call it a day here and carry on to the next spot. That didn’t settle on him just yet.
“I-I don’t think so.” Martin called it unsurely. “What if he did show up in the hotel, but for some reason no one can claim that?”
“I just told you there was nothing on cameras or booking records. He wasn’t here.”
“And you just agreed something could have messed with the cameras already, maybe something else got riled too.”
Daisy nodded and looked prolongedly at Martin. A realization crossed her mind, as she raised her chin with audible “oh” in acknowledgement and crossed her arms again.
“I see…”
Martin tilted his head, returning the wondered and a tad doubtful gaze at the detective. He wasn't sure if she was seriously not taking that possibility of evidence manipulation into account – it seemed obvious to him. “Sectioned detective”, he thought dismissively. How that woman managed to become a detective in the first place, he wondered.
“You’re thinking too much.” Daisy spoke bluntly.
Oh. Martin blinked, not expecting that to land on his ears. His mouth moved in silent “What?” before he could process what she actually meant. When it hit, he snorted, ridiculed.
“Are you serious right now?!” He called out in irritation. “Jon is gone and time is ticking. Here's no such thing as ‘overthinking’.”
Daisy shook her head slowly, not having it at all.
“You refer to ‘investigating’.” She said slowly. “What you're doing right now is trying to skip straight to the goal with guesses and what-ifs.”
Martin held his breath. First Elias, now she had to call him out.
“You know what we’re after – the strange things. Everything, and I mean everything, is possible when they're involved.”
Daisy interrupted his further explanation with a bark of ridiculed laughter. She raised her head up to the sky and spread her hands as if asking God for more patience.
“And you’re right!”
Her head fell down with her eyes darting at him with a reproaching smile. He struggled to follow her train of thoughts. He felt uneasy nonetheless by being called out in public by her.
“So that would mean we’re on the same page.” He stated his understanding. “I don’t want to end up running into dead ends and wasting time.” He called desperately.
“By wasting time on looking for the imaginary dead ends instead?” She asked sarcastically.
Martin's mouth hung open letting out only a long “uhhh…”. Now when she put it in that way, it sounded pointless. While he tried to tackle that and no sophisticated response has been formed by him in time, Daisy continued:
“You want to get to the goal so fast you’re just doing blind guesses and running in circles.” She pointed a finger at him, calling him out loud in frustration. She then spread her arms. “So let’s focus on what we have for certain and see where it takes us.”
Martin’s mouth opened and closed a few times, still thinking of the counterargument. Now when Daisy laid it out this way, it did show to him his adverse mindset.
“It’s… It’s easier to say than to do…” He croaked sheepishly.
Daisy smiled politely and rolled her eyes. She got off the wall and marched over to Martin. He tensed up and made a step back when the detective raised her fist and landed a bump on his shoulder. He jumped, off guard, groaned and grabbed his arm.
“Ouch?! What was that for?!” He called out.
“Just tried to lighten you up.” She shrugged.
Martin grumbled unhappy as he massaged his arm. Daisy rolled her eyes.
“You’re such a softie, Blackwood.” She snorted with tease, much to his irritation. Her voice then turned softer. “Just focus on what we know. You can bother about the rest when the time comes.”
Martin made a nervous giggle as he rubbed on his paining arm. He sighed in resignation.
“Alright…” He huffed. “You’re the detective here, so… what do we do next?”
Daisy looked around and waved her hand at Martin to follow. They moved from the hotel to where the car was parked. When Martin caught up to her pace, Daisy spoke up:
“Let’s settle on what we got so far. No far-sighted speculations. Aight?” She pointed at him with expectation. Martin nodded firmly. “Sims left in the late afternoon the day he disappeared, so I assume he left straight to the hotel. It would be too late to cancel the booking – short notice fees.”
Martin nodded with each point. He tried to follow Daisy’s trail of thoughts and map them out in his head, but it was hard to keep on one track. Despite his efforts they were also branching off to possible scenarios and what-ifs.
“And because he didn’t check in, this gives us a thin and firm timeframe in which his disappearance has occurred.” Daisy finished.
“He could only disappear on the way here.” Martin concluded shortly.
Martin raised his palm and started drawing in the air as he calculated something in head. Meanwhile Daisy drove her hand to the pocket of her jacket and pressed the button. Her beat-up pickup truck beeped from the side of the street.
“It would be about half an hour by Tube.” Martin said eventually. “Or an hour by foot.”
“Or twenty minutes by car.” Daisy said as she walked around the car to the driver’s door.
Daisy waved at him to get in, so Martin listened and took the passenger’s seat.
“It still means a lot of work and routes to check in.” He exclaimed as he shut the door.
Daisy put the key into the ignition, but she didn’t start the engine yet. For now they just needed some private space to share their thoughts.
“It’s still better than if he checked in at that hotel – we’d have to chase the traces that would fade as the time passes. It’s just better that way.”
Even though it logically sounded better, Martin couldn't feel less nervous with this output. Daisy looked at the man that slowly deflated on the passenger seat.
“Or… you still wanted to find him here?” She asked suddenly.
Martin cackled once, not taking his empty eyes from the spot on the front window. Troubled, he slid a hand through his hair puzzled.
“That’s a good question.” He mumbled. “Very good one.”
He was well aware already that he was letting the anxiety take him over. Maybe it could serve as some motivation to keep going, but so far everyone, even Daisy, pointed out he’s been running around like a beheaded chicken.
But now, the detective's question showed him the problem from a new angle. He was stressed about everything regardless of the results, whether Jon was at the hotel or not, whether he just got on some secret mission or something got to him. He himself tried to understand what he was actually hoping for from their investigation.
“M… Maybe… I hoped he was just there. Maybe I hoped to hear it was just one… very big misunderstanding… I guess… I'd prefer to just end up as an overreacting person but see that Jon is actually alright…”
His voice trembled from self-doubt as he spoke his thoughts out. He didn't look at Daisy or even acknowledge her pity eyes laid on him. Tired, he rested his head on his palm, with his fingers running through his messy hair. Daisy sighed.
“There’s always a chance he changed his mind and decided to sleep somewhere else than here, but there's a low chance of that.”
Martin peeked at her with the corner of his eye, considering pointing her hypocrisy out. But Daisy was faster.
“Just speaking from top of my head.” She specified quickly. “We stick to our main focus.”
Martin sighed heavily, lifted his head and laid it on the headrest and crossed his arms. Daisy tapped the wheel and took a breath.
“Alright. Let’s get going.” She announced.
Daisy nudged Martin’s shoulder again, which was more like a brush against his thick vest. He impulsively grabbed the spot, even though it didn’t hurt this time.
“Uh, where?” He turned after her.
“Back to Barker’s apartment.” She stated it like something obvious. “We’ll see if your odd powers left some traces. And let’s hope to track down your dear archivist.”
Daisy gave a look at Martin, which left him thrown off, not sure what context was supposed to be read from there. Dumbstruck, Martin held his breath and didn’t notice when the red bloomed on his cheeks. Daisy gave him the subtle side eye, then turned the key and the engine roared loud and nicely.
========= <o> =========
Through a fog, the cheerful voice of the ringmaster hit his ears, though as nothing more than a cluster of meaningless sounds. It still carried a meaning he longed for to hear – it’s over.
Plastic joints clicked in choir as a crowd of empty plastic hands retracted at the command, uncovering the seated man. His head dropped after the palm supporting his chin got away, letting it sway from side to side limply. Eyes were absent, driving mindlessly on the raw concrete floor, as Jon was completely cut off from that reality.
Her voice was calling from afar in her typical bubbly tone. She spoke in delight, though it was only a stream of ear-piercing incoherent sounds. The other only sensation registered by him was his body involuntarily convulsing both from cold air suddenly touching his uncovered skin, but also from that disgusting feeling lingering all over his body he couldn’t fully cut off.
“…and you behaved very well, Archivist!”
Nikola skipped closer and bent down with palms propped on her knees, just like an adult speaking to the child. The only reason she didn't cup his head in her hands was to not ruin the hard work of her crew. Didn't mean she wouldn't violate his space in another way. Just like putting her face disturbingly close to his to let him acknowledge her presence.
Jon wasn’t comprehending that at first, not until a rancid smell hit his nose. It shook him awake faster than any smelling salts – an ill-driving scent of a flesh mask fused with cheap plastic. The skin of someone who met a similar fate to him pierced through that comforting fog with ease, straight to his insides, twisting them on the left side.
He gagged from a sudden rush of nausea and jolted his head away just to catch some damp, but still better air. Nikola frowned, offended by such a reaction.
“You couldn’t at least wait till I finished complimenting you.” She scoffed and propped her arms on her hips, still bent down. “But I’ll pass on that, as long as you stay cooperative throughout our sessions.”
Like a crane, Nikola slowly straightened up with grace and spread her hands just like she was about to announce the next performance. At that Jon turned his face back to straight position and gasped for air.
He thought it would get somehow easier to handle each time, but it was exactly the opposite – it was weighing more and more on him how less of a person he was in the eyes of the things that never even were people.
And the crowd. It was hard to ignore the crowd of mannequins that was now surrounding him and Nikola in a wide circle and blended into the mob of figures residing in the chamber along with him. The scene wasn’t far from the audience, faceless people watching the show in the circus, with him and the ringmaster as the sole performers. He wasn't part of the crew, he didn't even consider himself one of the circus beasts. He was just a prop about to be dismantled to the joy of the audience.
“Alright everyone, that's all for today! Thank you!” Nikola announced with gratitude.
Jon shot a glance at the silent crowd, as it complied. At sync, they turned towards the exit and moved in a straight line, tapping away with the bare plastic feet. As the last servant left, it pulled the door shut, which echoed with a loud clunk of the heavy mechanism. Nikola turned to Jon in a half-pirouette and asked:
“Before I leave. Anything you want to say about today?”
Nikola looked smug at Jon, taunting him for his inability to give an answer. Still, she didn't expect him to somehow twist his arms in his tight bindings solely to spring two middle fingers out for her. Nikola gasped in shock, though it sounded like she did this under the theater spotlights.
“How primitive!” She called out, laying her hand gently on the chest in an offended manner. “I understand you might not like my methods, I’m a monster after all.” Nikola circled head to simulate rolling her eyes. “But I would expect at least some manners from you, Archivist! Are you proud of yourself?” She sounded like scolding a naughty kid.
Nikola didn't need his verbal answer to know he, indeed, was proud of himself. The self-satisfaction was radiating from his otherwise tired and miserable face he had since he's been brought here. She scoffed again, exasperated, and laid her hands on hips.
“And I took you for a professional person. Are you that childish when bossing your friends around, too? Hm? I wonder how they would react if they saw how you behave here.” Nikola pointed with two fingers at the floor under her feet. “Shamefully we can't invite them. They would only ruin our plans!”
Jon kept strict eye contact with Nikola and slowly shook his head once along with a quiet groan, signalizing her to not go down that path. Obviously, his subtle cautionary sign only encouraged her to keep on it. And so, she continued:
“I knooow this place is hidden from your master. I made sure of that. But I lowkey count on them finding this place, Jon. It would make our wait more interesting!” Her excitement was emphasized by her hands shaking. “Can you imagine what it would be if they came here? I think you all know what our drill is already. They probably are worried if the person they’ll find would be the same Jonathan Sims they knew.”
Jon growled loudly to interrupt her fantasizing, much to Nikola’s disacknowledge. She hid a face in her palms and spoke from behind:
“Or if Jon they’ll find will be just… this.”
She barged forward with face uncovered, making the unhinged peek-a-boo on Jon. Jon was first weirded out by how childishly his captor’s attitude was, until the light revealed the change.
Her face. It was now different. The mask switched from an unknown female to an older male, or maybe the wrinkles were from the skin shriveling over time. It had makeup on probably even before the skin gained its new user. It was old, cracking, but also the eyeliner melted away, leaving the black tears flowing out the empty eyelids. Nikola seemed gladden from the impression she made on Jon, who curled over the back of the chair, mortified by her trick. She laughed.
“Or let’s look at it from your perspective! Fear of being estranged.”
Nikola leant her hands on his. Without breaking eye contact, Jon tugged his arms backwards in reflex, but the restraints held them in place without fail.
“Replaced. Unrecognized by others. The uncertainty if anyone will even come for you. What a thrill!”
Nikola sprung back up, accidentally rocking the chair in the process. Jon yelped when he got suspended on just back legs for a second, before the front ones slammed back on concrete, throwing its prisoner violently onwards. Jon’s heart jumped to his throat and he gasped for air. But Nikola did nothing of it and she leant on the back of the chair as she continued:
“And then all that hope dies down in an instant when they fall into a trap.” Nikola snapped fingers, but it was just a dry smidge, given her “wrapping”.
Once Jon eased after the little shock, he clenched fists hard and let out another growl, longer and feistier this time, but again, to no avail. Nikola took off and skipped ahead:
“And the next thing you see is more, more waxworks staring at you.” with arms motioning wide open around the chamber, “whispering to you.”
Jon raised his voice, but too late – Nikola had already disappeared among the figures. His eyes tried to follow the silhouette in the still crowd, but he quickly lost track because of the poor lighting. He yelled then in aether, pleading her to stop.
In return he heard a haunting laughter, which sent goosebumps over him. Jon shriveled in his seat.
“You were supposed to help us. Not the other way!” A distorted male voice sounded.
Jon looked at the figure on his right, frozen in wailing expression. He wasn’t sure if that came from one of the statues or if it was Nikola mimicking.
“What an excuse of the Archivist!” The woman yelled in pain.
He squealed, because this time it sounded behind him. His head quickly shot over his shoulder, expecting someone creeping over him – he could swear he heard something breathing down his neck. But he only saw a row of waxworks surrounding him in a tight ring. He stretched his neck, trying to look far behind and spot Nikola. Her iconic little gasp of the new idea. His eyes turned on their own, straight onto Nikola’s face as she slowly emerged from the crowd, with hand close to where a human would have a mouth, in a fake surprised manner.
“Was that how Sasha felt?” Nikola spoke slowly ominously. Then, she perked her head and laughed innocently. “Ha-ha-ha!”
Jon’s fists clenched on their own until his knuckles went to white. His face in turn shifted into a shade of red. The binds strained, as he pressed on them with full force and let all his anger out in low growl.
“Ah, sorry. I got carried away a bit. Or… no, I’m not really sorry.”
She continued her giggle. Jon gasped through a gag, furious. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth would all crack, if they didn’t dig into a thick piece of cloth.
“Gohh… Thooh... Heeell!”
Nikola gasped, cutting her laugh in half. Her hand again covered her mouth, perplexed. Jon’s face was tomato red from effort put in, but his anger quickly turned to confusion, when he saw her first genuine reaction to his lash out. Then he felt uneasy when she laughed once again.
“Oh wow, I actually understood what you said! Well, I had to guess a bit, but the message has been delivered.” Nikola called out, impressed. “But oh, I think I shouldn't tell you that. Oh well, silly me!” She waved her hands. Then, nonchalantly, “But no, thank you. I’m planning to bring one of my own. With your help.”
First Jon was sceptical if she did understand him and she wasn’t just messing with him. Her reaction seemed authentic though. His eyes drove in ponder over what he actually had to do with his voice to compel. Obviously he wasn’t the only one who was aware of the possibilities from this situation.
“But don’t try doing it again, for the sake of your voice chords.”
Nikola went behind the chair. Jon could feel the fingers land on the knot of a gag. He mumbled questioningly and moved his head, only to be held down by disgusting skin wrapped plastic fingers.
“And your jaw's integrity.”
Jon yelped as she yanked the cloth, making it press tighter on his mouth corners and resting hardly on his tongue. The knot was redone tight and was now pushing into the back of his head. Being gagged was just an inconvenience, but now, well, Nikola made it a discomfort.
It would discourage a person from trying again, but not him. Jon thrashed his head and moved with his jaw to adjust the gag into some relatively less painful position. Nikola did nothing of it as she stepped at his side. She let out a theatrical sigh, like a damsel longing for her lover. She propped herself on the backrest of the chair, which Jon didn’t pay much attention to, too occupied with his discomfort.
“I don't know if they're looking for you, though. Well, Elias surely is, but the rest? Your recent relations were… rough. Either way, if they find their way here, we’ll welcome them with open arms! And make sure to make them part of the repertoire!”
Jon stopped what he was doing and called in protest, despite his discomfort. He rattled the chair violently in his protest.
“Anyway, it was a nice talk. Now, by standard, a few hours for the lotion to absorb. Rest well!”
She waved goodbye. The heavy door closed shut with loud clanking of the lock and the place went deafening silent again. Jon stared at the door prolongedly, until eventually all the pugnacity wore off. His head dropped loosely as his thoughts slowly succumbed to sorrow.
He didn’t even know how long he was kept here. He examined the chamber many countless times – over the crowd of unanimated human-inhuman figures. Whichever part of the building he was held in, it was an inner part – the only windows were high under the ceiling, but they were sealed tight, he couldn't kind make out with what. He couldn’t track the time by any means.
But maybe it was good, given the situation. No minutes to count. Or hours. Or days. It would only prolong everything. The times he received “treatment”. The wait to be skinned alive eventually. Or wait for the potential rescue party. If he could even count on that. So he hung his head and tried to doze off and let the time fly.
========= <o> =========
He tapped his foot nervously, making an uneven rhythm echoing up and down the staircase. Martin was propped with his back and head on the wall, staring at the ceiling, with hands in his pocket. He tried hard to stay calm, but he couldn’t keep his galloping thoughts under his control.
A week passed since the message about Jon’s disappearance was first heard. So far any clues were dead ends or too vague to make any move. He couldn’t stop thinking about where else he could look for leads or if he maybe missed something. Stress was gripping hard on his empty stomach, too worried and uneasy to have some proper breakfast. Or sleep.
Just when he was going to spiral down the dark thoughts, the door opened again and Georgie stepped out, with a little bag on her shoulder, ready to go. Skipping formalities, they went down the stairs.
“Any updates?” He asked on the way.
“Nothing promising.” Georgie said bluntly, not hiding her disappointment. “I asked my neighbours around, but no one saw anything. I’m keen to say they didn’t even know who I was talking about. I mean, he had to hide when he was wanted by the police.”
“Right… It only makes things harder for us.”
They left the building and Martin pointed at the other route to check up, which they followed.
“Thank you for joining me today.” Martin said with gratitude.
“As shady as Elias is, I have to agree with his advice to not work alone.” Georgie sighed.
Martin only nodded, lost in his thoughts. Jon disappeared precisely because he was alone and now no one has a clue of where he is.
“You said the detective can’t make it today?” Georgie asked.
“Uh…” Martin snapped out of his thoughts. “Yeah. Probably tomorrow as well. Elias sent Daisy to another place… Mannequin hunt. Hope she’ll get something crucial.”
Martin felt how his mouth opened wide in a yawn. He quickly covered his face, trying to not show how tired he was. Either Georgie didn’t notice or ignored it.
“I doubt so.” Georgie puffed snarkily.
“Key word “hope”.” Martin raised his finger. “And I’ll stick with it.”
“Alright. But we can't just come to people and ask them around about a missing person, we're not police.” She pointed out that it was a bit ridiculous. “Well, I’m a regular in a few places, but I don’t think that’ll give us some special treatment.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Martin pulled a document out of his bag. “Daisy got some papers for me, so I can do ‘a little more’ when she’s not around. That’s um… ‘Civil Assistance in Crime Investigation’.”
“Never heard of that.” Georgie glanced over the paper, questioning its legitimacy. “Besides, shouldn’t you act under her supervision…?”
Martin puffed and rolled his eyes. He folded the document and stuffed it back into his bag.
“Police don't care as long as Daisy doesn’t cause them trouble. And they don’t stick their noses into anything related to the Institute. They won’t ask.” He explained bitterly. “Besides, it’s Daisy’s responsibility for who she hands permissions out to. And we both know that I don’t want to mess with her.”
“Intimidation! Hooraaay!” Georgie waved hands in fake cheer. Then sighed. “Alright, where do we head first?”
========= <o> =========
“Come on! He’s been here a few times not so long ago! Don’t you recall anything?”
Georgie looked pleading at a man working behind the counter – a manager of a coffee shop from around the corner. It was past the morning rush hour, so there were little people in the store and so they could have a talk. The conversation didn’t impact his workflow, as he swiftly stacked freshly cleaned cups next to the coffee machine.
“Sorry, Georgie, I told everything I know.” He shook his head with compassion.
Georgie sighed frustrated. She crossed her arms, with a running tape recorder in her grip. The manager turned back to her after finishing the restocking. Seeing her doubtful face, he leaned his hands flat against the counter.
“Hey, I’m not heartless, you know that and whoever will listen to that old thing.” A man shrugged and nodded at the tape recorder. “I have a good memory of faces, so if I saw him in the last few days, I’d tell you.”
Georgie exhaled longly and rubbed her temple.
“Yeah, you’re right.” She admitted ashamed.
“You're stressed. That's very unlikely for you.” The man noticed. “I wish I could help you more. Maybe I could offer you a coffee, on the house?”
Georgie smiled, troubled and shook her head.
“It’s not a good moment, but I appreciate that. Thanks anyway.”
The man nodded with understanding.
“Though I think your friend would have a use of a coffee. Or two.”
The manager stretched his neck to the backroom door. Georgie rested hands on her hips and pursed her lips.
“Whatever is going on with your friend, he seems to take it even harder.” He added.
They both exchanged the glares.
“I think you’re right. I think I’ll take that coffee, black. For takeaway.”
The manager smiled happily and flipped a paper cup from the stack, straight to the machine.
“Right away.”
Georgie sat at the table, where she waited for Martin to come back from the management office. He passed the door shortly later, with a face similar to hers, in a grimace. He came up straight to her table, but he refused to sit down when she moved a chair for him. Even though it was written all over his face, she still asked.
“Nothing?”
Martin shook his head. Georgie grabbed her bag instead and got up for both of them to leave the shop. She only stepped to the counter to take a cup of freshly brewed coffee and nodded with gratitude at the manager. She then followed Martin outside.
“Their cameras cover the whole street.” Martin twisted his head and pointed at a small camera hanging over the outdoor tables. “Didn't catch Jon though. So he didn't go that way.”
“Did you roll to earlier recordings too?” Georgie pressured.
“Their surveillance has backup only from the latest week.” Martin shrugged, with his voice flat and blunt.
His sudden loss of energy raised an alert in Georgie’s head. She looked at him up and she noticed a shift in his attitude. Earlier he was very emotional over the situation with Jon missing. Now he looked… hollowed out. Emotionally absent.
“Martin… we still can search other routes.”
Martin shook his head hard.
"That was the last route Jon could have taken. He just… disappeared. Without a trace.”
He sounded weakly. Georgie saw that. He was about to reach the point of breakdown.
“It’s too early to give up just yet.”
“How can I not?” His voice rose through a tightening throat. “He just disappeared. Poof. Nothing. No trace.”
“There must be something. Even the supernatural leave a trace, right?”
“So far, yes. Every statement I worked on had some very vague, but still a clue of what could have happened to the person. I just… I don't know where else to look for these.” He sighed. “I think I’ll return to the archives and dig through the files again…”
Georgie sighed, willing to just nod at his words. But something felt off.
“Wait. ‘Again’? Like, today again?”
Georgie grabbed Martin’s shoulder, stopping him. He looked confused at Georgie, unintentionally revealing bags forming under his eyes. Now she realized he purposefully avoided eye contact with her to not show how bad he looks. Georgie shook her head, frustrated.
“You need a break, Martin.” She stated firmly.
Martin let out a low bitter cackle. He rubbed his eyes, which were red and stinging from sleep deprivation.
“Believe me, I tried, but… I just can’t.” He waved his hands helplessly. “Knowing that he is somewhere there and might need our help…”
“I worry for him too, but you won’t do much when exhausted and stressed beyond-”
“It’s so easy to say to you! For God's sake, why is everyone calling me out like that?!” Martin growled back suddenly.
“Because everyone is worried.” Georgie explained, not taken aback.
“Because I am. Worried. Sick. For Jon! I've read and listened to enough statements to know how it ends up for people if no one helps them out on time! This isn't about exams or anything, Georgie! This is about someone's life! There won't be second chances! I won't stop until I'll know what’s going on and what I can do! So maybe stop calling me out for trying to rescue my friend and… fuck! Help me!”
Georgie glared at him all still. She thought she was just levelheaded in the situation. But it could actually be ignorance of the real weight of the situation. When Martin realized what he just did and his face turned into disappointment towards himself.
“Oh, God damn it…” He hid his face in his hands in shame. “I'm… so sorry.”
“No, it's. It's okay.” She bubbled sheepishly. “I should be the one to apologize.” She sighed. “You’re right. I should put more thought into that situation.”
Georgie put her hand on Martin’s shoulder to reassure him. He only looked at her with a sour face, feeling not less guilty for his outburst.
“You help a lot already.” Martin said. “I'm… I’m just exhausted.”
“I know. I see it. Hope we will find something.”
Georgie looked down at her reflection of the black coffee, which she forgot about for a moment. She lifted a cup towards Martin.
“At least have a coffee. On the house and manager’s insistence.”
Martin's groggily gaze fell on the cup with a dark steaming drink. He avoided drinking coffee, especially on an empty stomach. But he deemed it necessary if he had to pull through the rest of the day.
“Thank you.” he said shortly.
Martin forced a weak, but genuine smile and gently accepted a cup. He carefully sipped on a hot drink. His face twisted at the bitterness of the strong black coffee, which initially shook his senses awake. That should do before the caffeine hits his bloodstream.
“Oh, I remembered. Where’s the tape recorder?” He asked with realization.
Georgie’s hand dove into her purse and pulled a chunky recorder, which was still on. She turned it off and handed it to Martin.
“What’s the deal with these tape recorders, though?” She asked in exasperation. “Jon seemed obsessed with them, but he didn’t elaborate. Now you.”
Martin took a recorder with gratitude and stuffed it into his own bag.
“In some way…” Martin snorted from the irony. “The vast majority of statements given to the Institute aren’t really supernatural. But the ones that actually relate to anything can’t be recorded by modern tech. I mean audio and video distortions beyond recovery, but nothing to the point of blowing devices up… Yet.”
As Martin explained that, he thought for a moment with a sudden blink of enlightenment.
“I… I didn’t look at it that way, maybe…”
Martin stopped and Georgie went a few steps in front of him before realizing.
“What are you doing?”
Georgie perked up with curiosity as Martin whipped his phone out of his pocket and looked at it intensively.
“Maybe I could just take photos and look for distortions.” He called in new energy.
Georgie was glad to see Martin up and ready again, partially because of coffee working, but mostly for him finding another spark of hope to grip on.
“What can you possibly read from messed up photos?” Georgie asked.
“They don’t need to be usable. They will just let me know there’s something to look after.” Martin explained. “Maybe that will give us a push in a good direction.”
“A spook-detector. Interesting.” Georgie nodded at the phone, impressed. “Wouldn’t someone come up with it already?”
“Well…” Martin pursed his lips. “There actually was a statement where a woman tried to record some sort of aggression-inducing music. The recording was first distorted beyond any usage, but she managed to recover it.”
“Aaand it didn’t end up well for her?” Georgie made a guess.
Martin shook his head.
“Neither for her neighbour.” He murmured in a grave tone.
“I see…” Georgie mumbled awkwardly.
They walked for a moment in silence. Martin took a bigger sip of coffee.
“Yeah. So even if that would work, I don’t think I would add it to our… arsenal.” Martin concluded.
The awkward silence continued. Georgie noticed Martin was looking around carefully with the phone ready in hand. Maybe she was too early to be glad for Martin's lifted spirits.
“I know you’re eager to try it out, but you really should wait for your detective to keep you company.”
Martin sighed. He shoved his phone into the vest pocket.
“I know… But she might be busy until tomorrow. Maybe longer if Elias will give her another job.”
“It’s up to…” Georgie said almost in reflex, but she held herself. "Just… don't. Please.”
She said, looking prolongedly at Martin before entering her building. Martin stood there, pondering. He looked at the watch, being almost noon. He could either go to the Institute or go home. Or go for the search all by himself.
Elias stated clearly to not wander alone.
========= <o> =========
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Martin kept his phone out, ready to take a picture of everything that could even be even remotely suspicious or out of place. He never did much with photography earlier, so he had some troubles with motion blur, picture delay and other settings he did learn just now, much to his annoyance. He also tried to make videos, but he then remembered his phone has limits in storage and he wouldn't walk around with his phone app. So he just kept his head high, alert to anything on the street.
He then came across the second-hand shop. Typical little shop that had literally everything, whatever people decided to get rid of for pennies. Martin got a little excited, because he felt like these places would be a hotspot for some fearful relics.
Martin came up to the big window with a display packed with the most unique or eye-catching stuff in the stock. He swept the display with his eyes while keeping the phone up to catch the good view of the entire collection.
Snap!
The entrance door swung open, almost falling out of the hinges. Martin jumped at the noise and watched as the older woman stormed out of the shop straight up to him.
“Oh, I can’t take photos?” Martin guessed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
He jumped back and the wooden cane slammed on the brick under his feet. The woman was yelling, fast and with a heavy accent, making Martin unable to make out words flowing from her mouth. He yelped as she swung her cane again at him.
“Ma’am! Ma’am! Please calm down!” He called.
He pulled a hand out to cover himself from the cane. The shop owner didn’t mind his words and just kept yelling. He tried to make her calm down, but when she raised her cane to strike again, he quickly turned on his heels and ran away, down the street. He only later looked behind his shoulder to see the door to the shop closing as the woman shuffled back inside. Nobody else seemed phased by the commotion. He huffed.
“What was with that old woman?!” He asked himself. “I think that would be good if someone paid interest on her shop?”
Martin sighed and remembered the photos. He unlocked it and went to the latest photos taken. Suddenly, the phone stuttered before going black screen. Martin first reacted with annoyance, but then he remembered what he was looking for.
“Oh-hoh. There you go.” Martin exclaimed, thrilled.
He looked behind his shoulder again and shuddered. As much as he wanted to look for the source in that store, he was not willing to face that aggressive woman and her cane. He could try to get something from that photo if he managed to make it work. He had to make sure it was actually fears in power and not a coincidence of his own phone malfunction. If he couldn’t get the photo to work, then he would get back to the shop.
Martin restarted his phone before trying again, with the same result. Any attempt to get to that display photo would end up with the phone lagging, then going black screen. Martin tried the other ways to access other photos and then getting to that one, but all resulted in the same. Martin was growing in frustration as he more forcefully tapped on the screen, trying hard to see the photo.
Suddenly some arms wrapped around his neck and yanked him back. Martin yelped, as his throat got squeezed in joint lock. The sudden pull knocked him off balance, forcing him to go back and not letting him get the proper stance to push in the opposite direction.
“Help! Help!” Martin tried to scream as much as he could with a pressure on his throat.
“Oh, stop it and look up!” A female voice hissed from behind. He recognized it immediately.
“Daisy?!” He squealed, surprised from who he heard behind his back. It only urged him to scramble more. “The hell, let me go! Aa-!”
He felt nails digging into his scalp in response, holding his head in place. The pain immediately ceased any of his resistance.
“I said.” Daisy growled. “Look. Up!”
His head was forced up, but Martin needed another moment to comprehend Daisy’s command. He then got blinded briefly by a heavy-duty torch Daisy turned on right next to his face and aimed it forward and up.
Martin traced the circle of light, which revealed to him the old brick wall in the dim alley. He came to realization this wasn’t the view he should see at this moment. He should be on the open street lit by midday sun, filled with people. But now he was surrounded by the walls of neighbouring buildings blocking the light in this shady path.
With growing dread, his eyes kept chasing the bright spot crawling up the wall until something shone on the space between the second and third floor over their heads. Something slim and silver, but also transparent. Like a fly line, or a clothesline in this place.
Then another line was revealed next to it. And another. And another. With horror, Martin watched the light come off the wall and follow these, which appeared to be crossed with more lines. Or strands.
Dozens of hairslim strands came from all directions, coming together in a single spot right in the middle of the alley, forming a giant web. It was spread like a net, waiting for a victim to come under it. And Martin was one step from it, if not stopped just in time. Despite its size, placed in the poor lighting and being semi transparent, slim lines were enough to hide from human eyes.
“Oh God.” Martin mumbled. “Oh Jesus…”
Martin gazed at the web, lurking at it from above. He stood there frozen, expecting it to suddenly detach from the wall and close around him.
“Let’s get out.” Daisy commanded.
Daisy let go of Martin's head, much to his brief relief from pain, before she gripped hard into his forearm and yanked him forcefully. Martin almost tripped on his own feet when he was hastily towed out of the alley.
“Wait, wait! What if that’s what snatched Jon?!”
He called after Daisy as they turned to the street, but she didn’t respond, nor slow down or let go of her grip. Martin glanced behind his shoulder, but the web already was out of his sight.
“Hello?! Let go, please?!” Martin called again confused.
He reached onward and tugged on Daisy’s arm hard.
“We have a bigger problem right now.” Daisy hissed without turning her head.
Martin remembered he still could physically oppose Daisy, so he stopped and leant backwards to counter her pull. Daisy felt the sudden resistance and leant forwards in exchange, still not looking at him.
“What can be?!” He called. “That web can be gone by the time we come back!”
“This is not the time!”
Daisy said in an unexpected emotionless tone. It sounded like she had to physically push the words from her throat.
“What are you talking about?!”
Martin yanked his arm out of Daisy’s grip and jolted back. Daisy quickly turned around and reached her hand for him, without even looking at his face. Martin skipped back.
“I’m not moving unless you tell me what’s going on!” He said firmly.
Daisy groaned in frustration, which didn’t fit her attitude. It fit more to the teenager who was ordered to clean their room, with sheer disinterest
“Fine, we’re doing it the hard way.”
Martin opened his mouth, but Daisy was faster. With one swift move she slapped a cuff on his wrist before doing the same to hers with the other bracelet.
“What?! Aaa-!”
Martin couldn’t even fully process what just happened, because Daisy rushed onward immediately. Martin yelped as he got pulled harshly for the handcuff that cut into his skin now instead of the nails.
“What is this all about?!” Martin called out again.
She remained silent, despite Martin repeating his question a few more times. She just kept the pace through a thin street, which Martin noticed just now. He glanced at people passing by them, but none of them even peeked at the two people handcuffed together. The oddity of the situation started to sink into Martin. Something targeted him and apparently its power was still in effect.
His hand mindlessly reached into his bag and reached the recording button of the tape recorder. He probably didn’t even realize what he did, as his focus was now all fixed on Daisy, who didn’t slow down with her pace. He couldn’t see her face, but he could guess Daisy had her stare pinned onward, determined to get wherever she wanted them to go.
Only until they reached the end of that street, Daisy finally stopped. Martin stood next to her and whined quietly in pain from arm being forced up and pulled by handcuffs. While he was trying to rub his wrist cut from the bracelet, Daisy suddenly dropped her head and he felt the tug down. Martin quickly kneeled to let the detective rest her hands on the knees, where she started gasping for air.
“You okay?” He asked.
Again, Daisy ignored him and just gulped air with a wheeze. Martin was breathing heavily as well, but he realized he should be the one more tired from that trot as a person in worse shape.
“Um… Okay. Looks like you ran a stretch, I guess…” Martin mumbled.
“Shut. Up.” Daisy hissed between gasps of air.
Martin was confused.
“You and your questions.” Daisy growled, then straightened up.
“Yes, because right now I’m completely confused! Could you, please, answer at least one of them?!”
“No.” Daisy said.
“Well, after you recover.” Martin corrected himself.
“No.” Daisy said more firmly.
“Fine. Fine.” Martin threw his hands in resignation.
He gave up, clueless and angry. Martin really wanted to learn more, but he realized Daisy wasn’t in good enough condition to answer his rankling questions. Daisy took her phone out and sat down on the cobbled walk, forcing Martin to do the same. He just gazed at the people passing by them, giving their quick peeks at them before moving on.
Martin then noticed a police car rolling onto the pavement next to them. He watched as two officers came out. Daisy looked up from the phone and stood up quickly, and a harsh tug on his wrist reminded him to follow her up and forward to the policemen.
“Detective Tanner.” The first officer nodded to Daisy.
Martin looked at the officer, then at Daisy, who nodded back at her colleagues. He grew nervous.
“A-Are we in trouble?” He stuttered.
“Did Bouchard call you?” Daisy asked, ignoring Martin.
“Yes. We got information about a potential missing person? Is it still needed?”
Martin looked at the officers, who seemed to not even acknowledge his presence. He grumbled, thinking over trying again to draw their attention.
“The missing person is right here, safe.”
Without looking at him, Daisy raised her cuffed arm, shaking her silver bracelet with Martin’s arm on its end, much to his annoyance.
Martin turned his look again at the officer. He squinted as he noticed the man’s head twitch, as if trying to look into his direction, but repeatedly bounced away.
“Magnus Institute… This place really makes office work an extreme sport, huh?” He commented.
“A sport if it was joyful.” Martin said, not caring if he’ll be heard. “Or if I was paid for it.”
As he expected, nobody acknowledged him again. He sighed in defeat again, forced to wait for the answers to reveals on their own.
“I- We need an escort to the Institute.” Daisy interjected.
“Of course.” The officer nodded.
Daisy and Martin went into the back of the cruiser. Martin sat there, feeling like a criminal, but without anyone telling him what he did wrong.The only thing keeping him off the dark scenarios was them driving to the Institute instead of the police station. He had to wait nervously for things to be straightened up. Which only meant another slowdown to them looking for Jon.