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Mike steps out into the street, breathing in the stench of central London and the bite of impending snow. It’s cold today, and he draws his jacket a bit closer to himself.
Heh. His jacket. Really, it belongs to Jonathan Sims, but he nabbed it on his way out of Martin Blackwood’s house the week before. His now. Hopefully, Jon doesn’t miss it too much.
Jon, of course, is the reason Mike’s scouring the streets of London at three pm in the first place. Word has it, from Magnus to Lukas to Fairchild to him, that Nikola fucking Orsinov’s got a hold of him. Of course, because Magnus is Jon’s keeper, and a right shitty one at that, he’s already been missing four days.
Mike hasn’t actually spoken with Nikola much, and he can’t imagine that getting Jon back is going to be easy or quick. Still, he’s confident.
Mike’s not the best with directions, at least, not at the street level. He doesn’t think he ever was, but it’s been much worse since joining the Vast. He has to plug the address Simon gave him into his phone and follow Apple Maps, so he’s not sure what he’s coming up on until he gets there.
In the end, the phone doesn’t help much, and Mike walks past the door he’s looking for three times before getting it right. It’s right next to an alley, a metal door, dented and rusted and faintly marked with the number fifteen. Mike’s only sure he’s at the right place when he sees the little initials scratched on the back of the broken padlock. N.O.. Of course. Nikola Orsinov, arrogant showman to the last. Mike glances up and down the street and twists the handle, thankful when it gives quickly.
The door opens into complete darkness. Mike tugs it shut behind him, turning on the torch on his phone and shining it about the room. It’s small, all things considered, but not small enough to make him anxious. Some sort of back entrance for maintenance and deliveries, probably. Every sound echoes in the silence, and he has the nonsensical urge to hold his breath. Dust motes float through the torch beam, but the floor is clean. Someone’s been coming through here, even if they aren’t using the room. He heads for the door on the opposite wall.
Fuck. This one opens into a hallway lit by bare bulbs and extending several hundred feet in either direction. He wasn’t expecting this.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he screams…
Left.
Mike turns and heads down the hallway as fast as he dares, moving on tiptoe to avoid any unnecessary noise. He’s not sure exactly how tight Nikola’s security is, but he knows she won’t be keen on giving up an Archivist.
The whole place smells like stale dust and, strangely enough, perfume. Mike’s not sure what kind, as he’s never been the fragrance sort, but he’s sure it’s floral, and he’s sure it’s artificial. He passes a few doors before coming across one with a pane of light and dancing shadows escaping from underneath.
This time, Mike doesn’t fuck around with handles and locks. Stepping to the side, he sucks the air from in front of it, ripping the door off its hinges with a terrific cracking and sending it hurtling into the far wall. Satisfied he’s got the room’s attention, he steps into the doorway.
“Michael Crew!” Oh, hell. He’s got a headache already. Nikola the fucking Clown steps into the center of the room, crossing in front of Jon, who’s tied to a chair. Lovely. “So nice to see you! Unfortunately, I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
Behind her, illuminated by another bare bulb and suspiciously oily- looking, Jon says something. Unfortunately, he’s got a gag in his mouth, so whatever it is comes out as, “Mmm-hmmm. Mm- hmm hmm hmm.”
Mike points to Jon. “That’s not yours,” he says. “I want him back.”
“Funny,” Nikola chirps. “I don’t recall him being yours, either. Finders keepers, I’m afraid!”
Mike rolls his eyes, stepping into the room. “Let’s put it this way. Elias knows you have him. I can take him now, no harm done, or I can send him this way with a little rumor that you’re not playing nice.” Please don’t call my bluff, please don’t call my bluff, please don’t-
“Of course Elias knows, silly!” Behind her, Jon makes a truly unholy noise and Mike cringes at the way his eyes widen. “Where would the fun be if he didn’t? Besides, I’m sure if he really minded, he’d come down here and do something about it himself.”
Mike takes a moment to glance around the room. It’s just the three of them. Jon won’t be much help, not new and hungry and confused and tied up, but Nikola alone isn't anything he can’t handle. He probably won’t be able to kill her, but he can figure something out for the meantime. “The hard way, then.”
Nikola… frowns? God, he fucking hates the Stranger. “Really? In front of my guest? Michael, that’s not very-”
Mike’s lip twitches and the space between Nikola and the ceiling disappears and she screams as she hits the roof with a plasticky crack. Jon’s eyes go wide and Mike surges forward, grabbing the chair he’s tied to. “Consider this revenge for the grave thing,” he says, and tosses Jon and the chair off to the side. Wouldn’t do to get him hurt before Mike can even rescue him properly.
Nikola comes crashing down to the floor in entirely too few pieces. “Oh, you insolent little brat! ” She swings a faux-fist at him. Mike doesn’t dodge fast enough and sharp plastic fingers slice into his cheek. “Leave before I make you regret it!”
Oh, that hurt like a bitch. Now he’s pissed. Mike may be younger and physically smaller than Nikola, but he’s also not sharing space with an identity-sucking monster, nor is he in the middle of planning his own little world-ending scheme. When he slams his open palms into Nikola’s chest, there’s not nearly enough of her present to keep her from falling backwards into the sky.
Mike scrambles to grab a shard of Nikola and kneel down at Jon’s side. Jon’s staring at him with wide eyes, clearly dying to Ask him a lot. When Mike starts in on the ropes tying him to the chair, he starts the aggressive mumbling again.
“No, not taking the gag out until we’re out of here. You’ve already proven that you can’t resist Asking, and I want to leave before she comes back.” Mike cuts Jon’s legs free and he starts squirming. “Cut it out, Sims, I’m serious. You’re in some deep shit here, and you’re lucky I came to get you.” He cuts Jon’s arms and torso free and scoops him up. He’s small enough that it’s not too awkward for Mike to throw him over his shoulder. “Alright, back the way we came.”
For a little (gagged) guy, Jon makes a lot of noise. This is exactly why Mike tries to steer clear of the Eye, and he tells Jon as much as they sprint through the remnants of the door and back down the hallway. He gets a very indignant grunt in response.
They round the corner into the room Mike came in at and Jon nearly slips off his shoulder. Mike grabs his ankle with one hand and a wrist with the other and nearly drops him again. “God, did she put lotion on you?” Jon’s exhausted sigh tells him all he needs to know. “That’s… disturbing.”
“Mm.”
They burst out onto the street and Mike realizes that he hasn’t exactly thought this through. He’s standing in the middle of London in broad daylight, blocks from anywhere safe, with a very disheveled Jon and no exit plan. Shit.
He starts by putting Jon down, grabbing his shoulder when he stumbles, circulation presumably coming back at last. “Here, cut the gag off.” He hands Jon the piece of plastic and Jon makes quick work of the gag while Mike flips off an overly-curious pedestrian.
“What now?” he gasps, leaning against the brickwork.
Before Mike can answer, an enraged shriek echoes through the hallways behind them. “Run,” Mike suggests, and then they’re racing down the sidewalk, Jon’s hand in his.
“The Institute’s not too far,” Jon suggests.
“No way.” Mike glances over his shoulder in time to see Nikola bursting out onto the sidewalk. “On second thought, lead on.”
It’s not that Martin hasn’t been worried about Jon, but things have been hectic, and Jon not showing up to work for a few days is hardly at the top of his mind at the moment. He feels kind of bad, but it’s Jon. He does odd things. Two days isn’t a long time to miss work. Even if he hasn’t texted any of them. Or called in sick. Or shown up to get his work. Or-
Anyways. Jon’s probably fine, and Martin has a lot of work to do.
The vast majority of this work involves trying to ignore Tim and keep the girls from tearing each other’s faces off, but it’s something. Martin’s still not comfortable sharing an office with Daisy, especially since he hasn’t gotten a chance to discuss the whole “trying to kill Jon and Mike” thing. Somehow, it would feel like a violation of privacy to do it without asking Jon first, and Jon isn’t here, so Martin’s right back where he started.
He sighs, tucking the last research document into its file folder and setting it on the corner of his desk. He’s not sure what to do about Tim yet, let alone their newest Archival assistants, and he’d sort of rather wait for Jon to deal with it than have any confrontational discussions in the break room. Things will sort themselves out. It’ll all be fine.
Someone’s screaming upstairs.
Fuck Martin’s life.
Oh, really fuck Martin’s life. He’s never taking strange Avatars home again. He’s never taking strange Avatars home again and he’s never giving them his clothes and feeding them his food and letting them sleep on his couch and leave him cute little notes promising their return. He’s not, because apparently, like inviting a vampire inside, this gives them all the permission they need to show up at your place of work bleeding from the face and standing in front of your boss (who definitely has some explaining to do) while shouting at your coworkers.
Mike Crew has made himself at home in the Institute’s entryway, facing off with Tim and Daisy, who seem to be trying to get to Jon. Oh, God, Jon looks like he’s been through Hell in the days he’s been missing. He’s still dressed in Friday’s work clothes and he’s got rope burns on his wrists. Even with Mike in front of him, he cringes away from Tim and Daisy’s shouting.
“Let him go, ” Daisy snarls, stepping towards Mike.
Mike draws himself up and the air crackles. “You don’t have the drop on me this time, Hunter. You don’t stand a chance.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Tim demands. “Jon, you can’t just let people in here, especially not monsters-”
“Hey!” Mike rounds on Tim, brandishing what looks like a sharp piece of plastic. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you,” he threatens. “Especially seeing as this ‘monster’ is the only one who noticed he was gone. Some friends you are.”
“Guys!” Martin interrupts, drawing four sets of eyes to him. Oh, that’s a bit freaky. Martin makes eye contact with Tim, the only one of the lot who’s got anything resembling a human look about him. “Everyone calm down. Jon, what happened?”
Tim waves his hands wildly. “He just showed up here with this monster -”
Martin raises a finger. “Do you look like Jon?” Tim’s mouth clacks shut. “Jon?” Martin turns to Jon, who’s beginning to edge out from behind Mike Crew. Mike’s still tense, though, staring at Tim and Daisy like they might try to jump him.
Jon clears his throat. “I- well, I was taken by the Circus-”
Tim and Daisy burst into a shocked clamor all over again and Martin claps loudly. “Again, can we let Jon explain?”
“I was taken by the- by the Circus, by Nikola Orsinov, and she wanted me for the Unknowing. She wanted my…” Jon wraps his arms around himself. “Wanted my skin. But Mike came and got me, said Elias knew where I was, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Then, well, he brought me here.” Jon glances to Mike, who looks about as off-put as Martin feels. He doesn’t seem to have known about the skin thing.
Martin takes a moment to gather his wits, looking to Tim and Daisy to make sure that they won’t do anything rash before approaching Jon. “Alright,” he says, voice soft. “Jon, are you hurt?” Jon stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. Martin is very aware of Mike’s eyes on him. “Good, that’s good. Okay, you should go and get changed, maybe get your hand re-wrapped and get something to eat, and then we’ll start sorting this whole mess out.”
“I’m going with him,” Mike says with a finality in his voice that Martin doesn’t want to risk testing. “Let’s go, Archivist.” Mike takes Jon’s hand and guides him to the stairs. Martin watches the two of them disappear down the stairwell before turning back to Daisy and Tim.
“Martin, you can’t possibly believe that bullshit,” Tim says. “He’s up to something.”
Daisy nods. “I killed Mike Crew. Put a bullet through his head and put him in the ground. Don’t trust a word he says, Martin, he’s a monster.”
Martin sighs, running a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to think, alright? Just… just give me a minute. We all need to think about this.”
Jon slams his office door, locking it behind him and wedging a chair under the handle before turning on Mike. “Tell me everything. ”