Chapter Text
Detective Tonner gives Sasha a ride to her flat. They’re both tense and silent as the grave the entire time. Neither of them wants to acknowledge the moments previous.
It goes by quickly, little blessings.
Sasha doesn’t bother saying thanks to Detective Tonner, just as Detective Tonner doesn’t look up from the windshield.
The walk to her flat is filled with the cold, the kind that drips off your skin. It’s fine. She’s not staying long.
She has a Circus to visit.
-
The Circus is hard for her to come by. She’s half-Eye and it is The Stranger’s portable stronghold. It’s not impossible, she is part Stranger after all. It’s just… harder than it used to be.
It’s easy to slip inside the back door of the wax museum. It’s rarely locked as what could possibly harm a Stranger in its place of power?
She walks steadily down the back halls. They twist and turn, not unlike the Millbank tunnels, or The Distortion. Her skin loosens on her bones with each step and it is a relief.
The walls and floor are cement, uncolored, rough. This is where the wax museum has ended and the Circus has begun. There’s a crackle in her bones, a twist in her skin. She hardly looks human anymore, but that’s fine. The only humans in the Circus are barely able to claim the name, and they wouldn’t be in a place to notice anyways. The Choir isn’t generally allowed advanced faculties like eyes.
A mannequin, one of the pawns, creaks nearby. It’s probably reporting to one of the Sandbags or Nikola of her return. Who knows how long it’s been. The Hunter can’t exactly be trusted to be truthful, regardless of whatever little bond they formed. Who is to say that Martin hadn’t waited a few days before reporting her absence to the rest of the crew?
It does not matter. She is back and she needs to talk with Nikola.
A Sandbag approaches her and places a hand on what should be her shoulder. She snarls at it.
“Stop that. Nikola said to bring you to her. Be glad I’m not letting the mannequins and figures drag you there, brat,” Sarah Baldwin, the blowhard she is, growls. Sasha shrugs off the taxidermied hand and settles her form closer to human before following.
The walk isn’t eventful. Sarah’s largely a coward and it’s not like a Sandbag, of all Strangers, could kill a Replacer.
Sarah leaves her in front of an inconspicuous door.
“Nikola’s right through there. Have fun brat, I heard she was angry these past few days.” With that, Sarah turns and walks away to wherever the Sandbag spends her free time.
Sasha hesitates only a little bit before knocking. She steps back as clanking metal footsteps fast approach the door.
The door is thrown open and Sasha finds herself in cold plastic arms. It’s… it’s different than she remembers. But maybe her experiences hugging humans haven’t been as good as when she hugs her Archival humans.
“Little One!” Nikola crows. Sasha is lifted into the air and twirled around, like she’s young again.
Sasha laughs and lightly slaps Nikola’s shoulder.
“Nikola!”
Nikola sets her back on the ground and holds her by the shoulders. There’s a makeup grin on her plastic face.
“My dear, dear Little One! You’ve not been back for over a fortnight. Why, Gerald was beginning to worry! You know how it gets when our children don’t stay in contact often,” Nikola tells her as she’s pulled into the room.
“Yes, I do. My radio silence wasn’t on purpose, promise! I had a run-in with the Watcher and then The Distortion and then the table that binds me. You know how time travels in the Hallways. I know I was in the table for three days, but I entered The Distortion twice and I don’t know how much time passed while in there,” Sasha explains as Nikola brings the two of them to a beat-up couch. Nikola brings the both of them down to sit on the couch and nods as Sasha talks.
“Sounds like you’ve had an adventurous time since we last talked. Tell me about it. Please,” Nikola insists.
Sasha blushes slightly and smiles shyly at the Ringmaster. She opens her mouth and fills the room with everything she’s done since she was last at the Circus.
-
It’s dark in the table. In Artifact Storage. In this place of horrors and murders and tortures.
The Watching Unknown tries to run. Tries to escape the strings choking its life from its shoulders. The Watching Unknown is not successful in anything but tearing its jugular out.
It claws at the ground, trying to gain ground like a fox in a trap.
The door opens and there stands something infinitely worse than the table.
“Hello, Replacer,” the Watcher purrs as it glides across the cold cement. Its head isn’t human, just one giant eye.
The Watching Unknown scrabbles at the ground, trying to hiss or growl or snarl.
A cold, cold hand grabs it by the hair on its head and wrenches its head up.
“Did you think I would just let you leave? ”
The Watcher grabs what’s left of the Watching Unknown’s throat and squeezes.
It gasps and gargles like it’s a human.
“Did you think I would let you stay? In my temple? Near my Archivist?”
It tries to get off the ground using its legs, but the Watcher sends it back to the cement with a crunch of bone. It can’t even produce more than silenced gurgles.
“Did you think you were human? Did you think they would treat you like your template? Did you really think that they wouldn’t try to destroy you as soon as they found out?”
It whines, or makes a sound akin to whining.
“You are pathetic. ”
The Watcher flicks its hands at its shoulders, getting rid of the lingering Strangeness. It turns its back on the Watching Unknown, only the eye focused on it.
“I hope you’ve understood my message, Replacer. Don’t make this be more than a one-time occurrence.”
-
Sasha wakes up sobbing.