Work Text:
When Brian reads the information on Witch Paper, he skims over the mention of a curse and instead focuses on how it can be used to save his life. A photocopy of his soul to bring him back if he meets an untimely end. A godsend in this nightmarish scenario that he's somehow stumbled into.
He should've known better. No blessing from Sintracorp comes without a price.
With danger looming around every corner, it’s only natural that Brian plants his face down on any photocopier that he can find. He scavenges through each nook and cranny, and if he happens upon a sheet of paper with an emblazoned design then he clutches it to his chest, eyes darting around the room for the nearest machine to jam it into. Call it an obsession, but it's literally his life on the line. Knowing that he won't truly die, that he has an extra few leases if a monster traps him in its snare, is one of the only things keeping Brian sane.
For a given definition of ‘sane’, that is. The longer that he's forced to trek down these halls, the more that word loses its meaning.
By the time that he's warded off the spider monster in the library, its sticky webbing still trailing off his suit, Brian has a healthy pile of photocopies tucked into his suitcase. He's always been a little self-conscious, and hates seeing his own face smushed up against glass, but he doesn't dare leave them lying around for a monster to find. Who knows what they could do with a copy of his soul.
He's wrangled into a ‘motivational meeting’ with the rest of the office, and there he's tasked with making a friend. There are far more important things to worry about, but Brian doesn't have the energy or nerves to fight against the rambunctious colonel and his steed.
Before taking the elevator to meet Kate, he slips a piece of paper out of his briefcase and heads to the photocopier. Better safe than sorry.
The Hive is aptly named, stuffed from one wall to the other with lifeless drones plugging away at computer screens. Within minutes, they blend together in Brian's head. By the time he finds Kate, he’s almost forgotten the ways that a person can look different, unique, from their fellow man. It's a little disconcerting, but with all the horror he's already faced, Brian finds himself desensitised to it.
So, too, does he find himself staring blankly at the succulent lips in the wall, feeling wary more than scared. It's a trap, and Brian circumvents it by giving his paper doll to the goat he was tasked to find. It's only after the lips suck her up, the wall bulging to and fro as she's rolled around its tongue, that it occurs to Brian that she could die, and he would be responsible for it.
Well, not quite. The fault ultimately lay at Sintracorp’s feet. Anything that Brian did, morally just or no, was to survive. No more, no less.
He doesn't notice anything wrong with his thinking until much later, while reconvening with Sintra in the computer. She worries that she might be corrupt. Brian, however, begins to wonder if he isn't the one being led astray.
Once back in the real world, he rests his head against the photocopier before continuing.
When he returns to the Hive, a bloodbath awaits him. Mangled corpses strewn down the hallway, swimming in blood and viscera. One man is still barely alive, slumped against the wall and coughing his guts out. They're far from the first bodies that Brian has seen tonight. What worries him more is the green gas that lingers in the air. He leaves the site promptly, new objective in mind.
Brian doesn't expect that the solution lies with a blind forest goblin, but such is the way when it comes to Sintracorp. The goblin offers him an enchantment in exchange for Witch Papers, which gives Brian pause. They were his lifeline. To offer them up was to lead himself closer to the chopping block.
He thinks, briefly, that he has no obligation to the goblin. Nothing is stopping him from stealing the contract from under the blind goblin’s nose. Nothing is stopping him from wrapping his hands around the goblin’s neck.
But no. That was wrong. In Sintracorp, the dead would haunt him. Spiting the goblin would be counterproductive. So Brian hands over two papers and then feels a strange rush in his lungs as they're blessed with magic.
On the way back through the bathroom, Brian stares into the mirror. He doesn't know what compels him to, nor why he takes out one of his precious Witch Papers to hold up to the reflective surface. It's because he does so, however, that he sees the Devil for the first time. They trade a glance, the Devil’s eyes inscrutable, and then he leaves to continue his mission.
That same Witch Paper is tucked into a photocopier not long after.
Kate was infected while he was gone. He finds her in a locker, and she urges him not to run. At first, he thinks she means that he shouldn't run from her, but then he hears the harsh tone of a printer, the pitter-patter of fingers against the floor, and he knows that he has a bigger problem than the gas. He doesn't think twice of closing the doors on Kate and power-walking away from the encroaching Dot Matrix.
He meets Kate again, not too soon after that. The greenish hue to her skin is gone, replaced by the scarlet of her blood as she cradles her head in her hands. Pasternack stares silently at the scene. Once the music comes to a stop, and he finds himself back in the A/V room, he concludes that the whole thing had been a hallucination and then continues on his way.
Thanks to the sleeping pills from Ms. Rostov, Pasternack is able to put to rest the owl flitting about the graveyard. Its crimson eye is what he needs to proceed, so without hesitation he jams his fingers into its socket and yanks the gem out. He leaves the half-blind body by the fountain and continues into the mausoleum.
The crypt is deathly silent, up until Pasternack shoves the coffin’s lid aside and sends it crashing to the ground. He doesn't flinch at the noise, only scoops up the bells that await him inside. Shouldn't there be a body? He ponders over the question as he leaves, his skin crawling at the sensation of eyes on it. He's grown accustomed to the feeling. He doesn't turn around.
He manages to make use of a Witch Paper before he's dragged down to Hugo’s party.
He doesn't have strong feelings for Hugo, one way or the other, but Ms. Rostov makes it clear that he isn't leaving until he helps out. He does so quietly, setting up the balloons and placing down the cutlery while making mindless small talk with Kate and Sosa. Pasternack doesn't have much to say, but it's more of a hassle to ignore them.
The party doesn't go as planned.
His co-workers retch and scream and writhe around him. The air is thick with the sweetness of birthday cake intermingled with the copper stench of gore. A body sans head rushes past Pasternack, spraying his suit with blood. He scans the scene methodically and then picks his way over to Doshi, the only person likely to get him out of here.
Doshi pulls through and manages to squeak the elevator door open. Pasternack demands he comes with- his technological know-ho would be invaluable. However, Doshi declines: he can't move from the panel or else the doors would shut. It made sense. No more convincing needed, Pasternack slips through the crack. He catches Doshi’s expression just before the elevator snaps shut. He seems surprised that Pasternack would concede so quickly to leaving him behind.
Pasternack doesn't know why.
Mr. Marshall guides him through to the building next door, and then proceeds with a performance evaluation. Pasternack answers the questions dutifully- the health & safety regulations were substandard, as was the cleanliness of the bathrooms, but the cafeteria appliances were all of a satisfactory quality- and afterwards is informed that Hugo would be taking over Sintracorp. It only made sense, if everyone else had been killed at the party.
Once the meeting is adjourned, Pasternack crawls back into Sintracorp. Something knocks him unconscious soon after his return. He doesn't know who, or what- he assumes Hugo, or one of the employees, as anything else would've outright killed him. When he comes to, midnight has arrived and a whole new brand of chaos has invaded Sintracorp’s walls.
He finds Sintra’s corpse, and for the first time in a while Pasternack finds himself at a loss. His objective was to defeat the Witch, but he can't attain her location without Sintra’s help. He would have to fix her. New mission in mind, he photocopies his soul and then makes his way down to Doshi’s office.
It takes him a while, as has been the case for most of his tasks, but eventually Pasternack dons the Devil’s garb and then follows his only lead up to the ninth floor. There he meets the cursed woman, who sinks her fangs into him when he stares for too long. He's aware that it hurts, but he doesn't so much as flinch.
Once she's dealt with, Mr. Spader is next. He's more agreeable than Pasternack’s come to expect of Sintracorp employees, and agrees to hand over Sintra’s head if Pasternack answers just one question.
“I'd like to know why you're doing this.”
A simple query, to which Pasternack offers a simple answer. “I was tasked with killing the Witch. I should see that through.”
“So it's a sense of duty that drives you?” Spader doesn't look convinced. “But what does duty matter in a madhouse like this? Why do you feel any obligation to the company that's tried to kill you tenfold?”
“It's not obligation. If I complete the task, and kill the Witch, then I'll no longer be in danger.”
“Ah, so it's self-preservation?”
“Yes.”
“And what of your coworkers?” Spader continues.
“They're all dead.”
“Not quite.” Spader's foot taps against the spotless marble tile. “They're trapped on the lower floors. Ensnared by the Witch, but very much alive. You could still save them.”
Pasternack shakes his head.
“You don't think you can?”
“I don't want to.”
Spader’s eyes widen. “Whyever not?”
“I'd be putting myself in unnecessary danger.”
“But don't you care about them?”
“Should I?”
Spader’s head tilts to one side, his features more scrutinising than ever. He lifts himself leisurely from the sofa and then crosses the distance between them. His hand comes under Pasternack’s chin, tilting up his head so that Spader can stare directly into his eyes.
Understanding blossoms when all Spader sees is emptiness. “You haven't come here unscathed, have you? You lost yourself along the way.”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“‘By photocopying a soul, the spirit is saved.’” Pasternack recognises the words, from the text he’d read so long ago. “But take care not to copy your soul too many times, for you may lose it along the way. I don't suppose you heard about that part, did you?”
Pasternack is silent.
“How unfortunate.” Though his appearance screamed insincerity, Spader seems genuinely crestfallen. “You came so far, not knowing you'd already lost to this place.”
“I don't feel like I've lost anything.”
Spader chuckles. “You wouldn't. Tell you what, Pasternack.” Spader’s hand moves down from his chin, takes the mask from his grip, and lays it back atop his head. “Perhaps you can do a little favour for me. It'll be to the benefit of us both.”
Pasternack has no reason to trust him. But then, on further contemplation, he has no reason to trust Sintra either. Neither of them have made overt moves to kill him, and in a place like this, that was good enough for Pasternack. “A favour?”
“It's about our new CEO.” There’s a hint of distaste in Spader’s voice as he sounds out the acronym. “It's really not my business, being a subcontractor and all, but I can't turn a blind eye to the mess he's made of this place.”
“You want me to deal with Hugo?” Pasternack asks.
Spader smiles- a toothy grin that, for the first time, makes him blend in perfectly with the cruelty of Sintracorp. “You're quick on the uptake. I like that.”
Once Spader’s request is outlined, Pasternack enters the emergency stairway and does not go down, to where Sintra’s body awaits, but instead upwards to the tenth floor. A single room awaits him beyond the door, the room where he'd first signed his contract to work here. Somehow, an eternity has passed in less than 48 hours.
An annoying toad now hops around the room, its ‘croak’ like that of a duck. Pasternack creeps up to the table, sneaks batteries into the remote he finds there, and then hits the switch, diving under the nearby counter as the room-wide television screen bursts into red static.
The toad blusters, and hurries to the remote. Pasternack sneaks around the other way, coming up to the desk and the shining object that lay atop it. The blade of the dagger fits snugly in his hand. It’s warm, almost reassuring in a disturbing way.
The toad is still bent over the remote. Pasternack walks up behind it, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. From this angle, he can see the toad for what it truly is. Not an iron-fisted dictator, nor a nefarious fiend, but a simpering, pitiful creature.
The dagger sinks into the toad’s back, and it wheezes out its last croak.
Pasternack yanks the blade out of the flesh and watches dispassionately as the toad’s body is steeped in red. He feels no joy, but no horror either. Was this what Spader had meant, when he'd said that Pasternack had lost something? There is something like an absence in his chest, and yet, he has no desire to fill it. If he's lost something that he held no interest in, then can it truly be called a loss?
Whatever. Pasternack is not a philosophical person, nor does he like to complicate things more than necessary. He likes simple things. Spader’s request had been simple, and its reward desirable. Rather than return to his old life, one where he toiled for recognition and resources, he could instead take the mantle from the toad that didn't deserve it.
Quick, easy, logical. And now he has the Dagger to protect him from the Witch. There was no longer a point to bringing back Sintra, especially now that he has a company to run.
The toad falls down from its perch in heaven, and the Devil swoops in to take its place.