Chapter Text
Chapter One
One way or another. Together.
So why were Jon’s eyes still closed? Why was his hand growing colder and colder? Why isn’t he breathing? Why--
There is no one here to answer Martin’s questions. He sobs, knife slipping from his shaking hand down to the empty field where his lover now lays, unmoving. A sharp wind whistles through the air. Martin’s tears sting as they freeze to his cheeks, but he feels nothing.
Once again, Martin is alone. And he begins to fade.
Across the otherwise silent meadow, a starship descends from the increasingly tumultuous sky. A metal hatch hisses open, revealing a group of space pirates standing in the entryway. Before the hatch even hits the ground, a short man tumbles from the ship. His belts clang against the metal as he attempts to direct himself towards possible violence. It isn’t until he stops with a start that the rest of the Mechanisms begin to join him, curious as to what could have caused such hesitance in their first mate.
Jonny smiles towards the crew as he announces grandly, “I think we’ve got another story to tell!”
Martin wakes up in a cold and unfamiliar room. The first thing he notices is that this isn’t the Lonely. The air is too sharp, too painful. The fluorescent lights cut into his eyes, daring him to see what happens if he stays awake. Through his hazy vision, Martin can barely make out the form of a winged woman...Flying? She rushes about the room--a lab of some sorts--and fiddles with dozens of probable torture instruments. She doesn’t seem to notice Martin’s awakened state and continues with her work.
He shouldn’t be here. He was supposed to fade away! There’s no one left for him now that--
“Tally Ho, New Friend,” a voice called, startling Martin from his thoughts.
He would have jumped had he any energy, but his body feels moments from drifting away with the slightest breeze. Martin glances up to see a presumably wooden figure holding a tray of tea. He slumps back down, ignoring it.
“Brian,” the voice continues, “Our Guest Is Fading Again!”
A tall, metal man wearing a top hat with a red flower on it clambers into the room. “Damn it, Raph! I told you not to take him away from his partner!”
“I just wanted to run a few tests,” a new voice answers.
His partner… Jon? Jon!
Martin sits up with renewed energy, and the Toy Soldier nearly drops the tea as it pretends to be startled.
“Jon, where are you?” he cries, breaking free of the cold metal hands attempting to hold him still. He stands and frantically searches around the room.
Martin has seen many horrors in his lifetime, but few compare to the scene laid out before him. Jon lays on an operating table, his chest opened up completely. A winged woman pokes around his body, apparently oblivious to Martin’s sudden movement.
“Get. Away. From. Him.” Martin growls. Anyone with any sense of self-preservation would have heeded his threat, but Raphaella refuses to oblige.
“Raph,” Brian warns, “You have enough tests; let them rest now.”
Raphaella sighs and removes another vial of blood before gliding away to put it in some sort of machine. She returns with a suture kit and begins to slowly, agonizingly, stitch Jon’s body back together. Martin watches, frozen in horror. He sinks to the floor, unaware of the fog swirling at his feet.
“Is--is he…” Martin begins.
“Dead?” Raphaella answers. “Yes, but--”
She doesn’t get to finish as the room is consumed by fog.