Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had to move

I had to get it out of there, out of the studio, out of the way of curious ears and watchful eyes, out of the way of people trying to learn more than they should know, more than they needed to know. I needed to get it out of there, before somebody else found it and got hurt, before somebody else suffered the same fate that they did.

I should've known better

All the signs were right there, flashing red and blue in front of my eyes like lights on a stage, like lights during an emergency, I should've seen it coming. It started with Lawrence's strange focus and fascination with the ink that ran through the pipes overhead, with the cartoon demon that smiled behind every corner of the studio, then it all descended from there, people started going missing, artists, musicians, the projectionist, all seeming to just disappear into thin air, nothing to show where they went, nothing but the ink that stained the hallways. The whispers in the pipes and plumbing that called out my name as I walked past, trying to take my mind, trying to convince me that this job was making me lose my marbles. That should've been my next clue. Drew's errand boy, the studio's gofer, approaching Ally and I at that party, asking me about It. What It even was. That should've been my final clue. 

Shoes.

Shoes tapping somewhere far behind me, making a steady clapping sound against the hard wooden floors, occasionally accompanied by a faint splashing sound as said shoes landing in one of the many puddles of ink that thinly coated the theatre's floors, the sound echoing in my ears, echoing in my mind, prompting more and more thoughts to cloud my brain, I could feel my shoulder's tense up as the echo grew louder, the splashes grew louder, the whispers in the wall grew louder.

Everything grew louder.

"Tommy! I didn't think you'd come." There was his voice, Mr. Joey Drew's voice. It arose out of the darkness as I turned around slowly, my back to the ink flooded stage that laid behind me, my hands clenching into fists as I tried to keep his gaze, he had entered through the same entrance I had, seeming to be unfazed by the mess that the theatre was in, the mess that surrounded us, that bled into the darkness, though, he had already seen it so there wasn't much reason for him to be too surprised by it.

"I had to see what my Machine did." I replied, bluntness clear in my tone as I resisted the urge to correct him on what my name was, stepping away from the light of the stage behind me, stepping closer towards the man, a splash of ink around my shoes made my skin crawl as I felt the liquid splash my ankles, staining the tops of my socks with the demon-like liquid, making me shudder slightly.

"Well," He said, a hum in his voice as he gestured around the room that we stood in with his arms, acting fittingly theatrical about it, almost doing a complete spin as he spoke again, "Take a good look around. What do you see?" 

His voice was friendly, it was too friendly, it set me on edge as I started looking around the theatre, ink dripped through the cracks, down from the pipes, I could feel a few droplets fall down onto my hair and shoulders making me shudder and attempt to wipe it off, the stage behind me was dripping with the liquid, flowing and dripping down the steps, bodies lying lifeless, motionless across the stage, a faint buzz and rumble only just audible in the air.

I looked back at Joey, looking straight at him, his eyes met mine. Grey to brown. Brown to grey. One of his arms were heavily bruised, it looked like something had grabbed him, yanked at his arm.

"A mess." I answered slowly, trying my hardest to be cautious with my answer, not sure what exactly he wanted me to answer with. I shouldn't even be here in the first place, I was supposed to be fired, hell, he was the one who fired me, made it as clear as day that I was fired, that I was to stay far away from his studio, from the Machine and yet, here I was, back because he had asked me to be back. I just couldn't help it, something about this building kept drawing me in, even when I wanted to leave, I couldn't.

I can't leave without the Machine.

My Machine.

"A mess," Joey repeated, the words almost sliding right off his tongue, he nodded, mostly to himself, but also at my answer, "A mess, you're completely right, Tom, do tell, what made this mess?"

He stepped forwards as he spoke, stepping slightly closer to me, prompting me to take a step back to make sure that we were an equal distance away from each other, the back of my leg banged against the front of the stage, making me wince slightly as I went to stand up straighter, trying not to seem nor look intimidated, the back of my leg aching slightly.

"The, uh, the Demon."

"The Demon, hm? The same one I told you to keep locked up? That same Demon?" His tone was heavily and thickly laced with an emotion that I couldn't quite identify but yet knew all too well, anger, mixed with annoyance and disappointment, all merged up into one, it was a tone that I felt all too familiar with.

"Mr. Drew, I did what you asked, I kept that thing locked up, exactly where you asked me to, it's not my-"

"Enough." He held his hand up as a signal for me to stop talking, which I did, I don't know why I did, I just wanted to get home, see Ally again, forget I ever made this thing, even if it was just for one night, "If the investors catch wind of this..."

The next few minutes of him speaking all went by in a blur, I couldn't focus on what he was saying, all I could focus on were my own thoughts, thoughts that were swirling around and around and around in my brain, not slowing down, not showing any sign of stopping anytime soon. What did I do? What did my Machine do?

I would say that I was surprised that he had brought up the investors but that would be a lie, of course he would bring them up, because that's what matters here, not the lives that now lay on the stage, unmoving and unbreathing, not the families that won't see their children, parents, relatives again, waiting for them to return home but they never will.

What did I create?

I really should destroy it, I really should. I should've barged past him at that moment, tearing the metal from the core, the pipes from the sides, rip it apart, take it apart, piece by piece by piece, leave it dismantled and watch as the ink emerged from its centre, creating an inky puddle on the ground by my feet. That way, it couldn't hurt anybody, that way, I could end it before it got any worse.

I really ought to destroy it.

But yet I couldn't move, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move towards it, do what I should do, what was the right thing to do, I couldn't move, I felt unable to focus, unable to think.

I need to destroy it.

"Tommy," Joey's voice yanked me out of my thoughts, out of my anxieties, out of my own world of self-loathing and self-pity, I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his and he started speaking again, "You need to get it out of here."

"I can't."

"Why not."

"Well, I'm fired for one, I'm not supposed to be anywhere near your studio, remember? Secondly, it'll take a lot more than just me to get it out of here."

There was a brief silence before Joey muttered something unpleasant under his breath, before tapping his foot against the floor for a few moments, "Well, I suppose you'll need your job back then, won't you? Unless you fancy leaving this one unfinished, though I don't think Mister Gray will be too pleased to hear that one of his best employees is a quitter."

"I suppose so." 

I never liked leaving a job half done, no matter what the context may be behind it, even when I really ought to quit the job right then and there, but what would Mister Gray say? There's no way he'd take me seriously again if I just quit a job, even if the job seemed morally wrong, what would it look like for the company if one of their employees turned out to be nothing but a quitter? I'd never get a job like this again.

It already took me so long to get to this position in the first place, fighting against people who would win just by the society that we live in preferring them over me. I'm lucky I even got this far.

I can't just quit now. I'd be right back at the starting point again, back where I was a decade ago. 

I need to finish this job.

"So, you'll finish the job, I assume?"

"I'll finish the job, Mr. Drew."

"Good man. It's a simple job, really. Just move it away from here, fix whatever you did wrong the first time and bring it back, simple really!"

Simple.

Far from simple, to fix a Machine like this, with this kind of structure, it was far from simple, especially when I didn't even know what was wrong with the Machine in the first place. How do we even know that it's broken? It was meant to create life sized figures and that thing? It was certainly life sized.

"Yes, sir, I'll do it."

"I know you will. Just... get it out of here, too many people know about it now, it's attracting... unwanted attention, I don't care how you fix it, get your boys over from GENT to help you if you really need it, just fix the damned thing."

Say no, Thomas, everything was screaming at me to say no, to refuse this job, no matter what the consequences may be, no matter what may happen after, this wasn't right, I need to destroy it. Say no. 

"Yes, sir."

Was I really that bad for accepting my job back? Was it really that wrong of me? Yes, I'll have my job back, yes, I'll move the machine, get it out of the way of prying eyes and people who are too curious for their own good, yes, I'll fix the machine, yes, I'll do exactly what you told me to do.

Was I really that bad? Even better question, did I really have that much of a choice?

What am I doing?

Chapter Text

We always had something new to create and fix

It could be something simple, something that we had created before, something that everybody needed, a lock, keys, elevators, lighting and projectors, or it could be something new that nobody had ever seen before, a completely new type of invention that nobody would ever be able to make again, a machine, a new way to lock your doors, a new way to light up the stage, a new way to look at things.

I’d heard stories though, of the things that we’d created, stories of machines that were unlike anything that had ever been made before, workers going missing, never seen again, stories of figures and monsters that glistened in the artificial lights above. Stories of people whose ambitions created something new, something incredible, yet something so wrong at the same time. Stories of friendships that had been torn apart, stories of people made into something that wasn’t them, their emotions taking over their bodies.

I’d heard so many stories

There was one story that always circulated around here, a story of an old employee, one of the old managers of the location I worked at now, they said he had created something amazing, something terrifying, they said he was a genius, said he was an idiot. I’d never met him. Nobody I knew had. He had left ages ago, disappeared. I had heard stories though.

I wouldn’t believe them though

Why would I? They didn’t sound real. They sounded like something from a child’s storybook, something you would make up to get your children to behave, it didn’t sound real. Besides, there were some stories that shouldn't be trusted, no matter how tempted you were to believe that they were real. You don't want to get lost in a dream. They can be hard to wake up from.

I shook my head at myself, not wanting to loose myself in my thoughts and make myself late like I had so many times before, walking forwards in long, quick steps, letting my feet guide me towards my goal, my bag swinging on my shoulder, banging into my leg with every step forwards I took. There was no doubt that I had a bruise on my thigh now from the heavy, metallic contents of the bag. 

I had very little knowledge of the company's background, I knew that it had started out as something small, a brick laying company, before Mr. Alan Gray took over, making it into what it is now, a place for inventors and scientists, a place where inventions were born, sold out across the states, we had offices all across the south coast but I had never thought of going out beyond where I worked in Atlantic City, this was home, this had been home for the last 18 years of my life. I didn't want to uproot and start again. I had no reason to. 

The thought of leaving my home made me feel physically ill. Sure, there were people all over the world who had left their own homes for America, the land of greatness, as some would call it. Greatness was certainly one word for it. Me, however? The thought alone made me feel things that I didn't enjoy. Doubt, fear, all that girly crap. Something that I didn't need to feel, something that I shouldn't feel, as my father so often pointed out. 

So I stayed in Atlantic City, even as everything seemed to fall apart around me, even as the company was going very steadily downhill. I stayed rooted in this spot, like a wise old tree. People often referred to me as a tree, you know. I was tall, very tall for my age, taller than the other lads at my neighborhood and I was pretty well rounded, I had muscle, though, after working with pipes that were almost double your height and machines that could easily fall apart in your hands, you had to have muscle. It basically came with the job description. I was smart too, I had finished my high school education with pretty good grades, enough to get respected nods and judging sneers from my peers. That alone was an accomplishment where I came from, getting into an education was easy enough. Staying in it though? That was a challenge. I was lucky enough to be my mother's only child and therefore having her fight tooth and nail, scraping for loose coins to make sure that I would finish what she couldn't but I knew of several people who had to leave in order to take over from sick members of their family. Even as everything was upgrading, televisions, education, health care, people were still left behind.

Maybe that's why I was so desperate to prove myself.

Maybe that's why I was standing outside good ol' Mr. Gray's office, a bag of mechanical parts in my bag, an invention in mind and a sliver of hope in my heart. I was hoping. I wanted to prove myself to this man. Prove that I was different, that I could do things, that I was just as capable as everybody who was thriving, that I could also thrive, even if I was struggling. I needed him to see me as more than where I came from.

I didn't know how far I'd go to prove that

I took a deep breath and I knocked on the oak door, ignoring my trembling hands, ignoring my increased heart rate. I wasn't anxious. I was strong. Anxiety would only hold me back and I was better than that. I heard a voice call for me to come in and I slapped a smile on my face and opened the door, stepping into my boss' office with a look of determination.

It took him a moment to register me as I walked in. He had a pretty cozy office, there were awards and pictures of various machines hung up on the wall, neatly filed bookcases and a cabinet. His desk stood in front of a closed window, a ticking clock overhead. The room was brightly lit and he was hunched over some papers. I immediately felt guilty, he was a busy man, what was I doing here, why was I disturbing him? Should I go? Should I call his name? Clear my throat? Draw attention to myself?

'Get ahold of yourself, Noah.' I could almost hear my father's voice in my head as my thoughts echoed, 'Be a man and get what you want.' 

He was right. He was always right. Even as he was home less and less and left my mother to work and look after myself, he was still right. Why was I questioning myself? I was a strong adult man, healthy brain and healthy heart. I had an idea, one could say that I had a dream and goddamnit, I was going to get it.

I cleared my throat.

He immediately looked up at me, "Ah! Yes. Hello.. Uh." 

His voice trailed off and I couldn't help but sigh, "Noah, sir. Noah Thomson, I work in design."

I didn't know why I was surprised. He was the head of the company, he was the one everyone looked up to. I wouldn't be surprised if he got multiple people per week in here, showing off their ideas for him to cast away, stupid dreams that were just waiting to be pushed down and put in their place. There was no way he'd know me, I was just another face in the masses. I was going to change that though. I was going to be different. Goddamnit, I was going to be different.

"Ah." There was no change in his tone as he examined me. Looking at me carefully, "How can I help you then, lad?"

"I have something I'd like to present to you, sir!"

"Do you now?"

I winced. The rejection in his tone was heavy and I hadn't even started yet. I took a deep breath and forced a smile on my face, beaming brightly in a way that I hoped he'd remember me for. I didn't want to be just another face in the masses. I was more than that. I knew that I was more than that. I pulled my bag over to his desk and pulled out my device. It was small but I was proud of it. I had spent hours working on it, designing, getting materials, looking high and low for inspiration, countless hours of sleep lost as I stayed late, excuses made up for my absences at various events and family evening but this. This moment right here. It would all be worth it.

I hoped it'd all be worth it

It was a small device, grey and made from metal, wires, cogs and gears. Something made from the scraps that I had found around. It was essentially nothing but a pile of garbage and scrap metal but it was under the surface that counted for this. It was round and pretty light, possibly just a little smaller than the palm of my hand, magnetic circles visible in the back along with curved edges that could grab and hold onto a circular object, a small opening with a small needle like mechanism poking out the back, inbetween the magnets. The top was rounded off with a small speaker and torchlight. It almost looked quite a lot like a ladybug. Minus the color and spots and wings. 

"What am I looking at here?"

"It's a flood detector! You put it on a pipe or whatever with the detector and it uses the flowage and usage to detect the stability of the metal as well as using the pressure of whatever is inside and sets off an alarm when it's close to bursting! I know we've had a lot of floods so-"

"Let me cut you off there, lad."

Uh oh. He didn't look impressed, nor did he look happy. He looked quite the opposite in fact. He looked annoyed. 

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"First off, we have pressure valves already-"

"Yeah, I know, I just- These could be cheaper, they're easier to make and I've already tested them so I know that they work!" I felt defensive and that just made him look at me with more annoyance. Probably because I just interrupted and spoke over him. 

'You never talk over your boss. Nor do you interrupt him. He knows what's best, you do not.' Thanks, internal voice of my father. Now, I just felt worse.

"If I can finish," I nodded and he stood up, walking around his desk to put his hand on my shoulder, "We already have what you've made here, Noah, was it? We need... original things and what you've made here is just a shady remodel of what we already have."

Ow.

"I admire your thought, it's clearly very well made and I top my hat to you on that front. It's just... Not what we need."

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Him seemingly sugarcoating the rejection almost made it hit ten times worse. Everything was starting to look really blurry as he patted my shoulder and handed my bag and invention back to me from his desk. 

'Boys don't cry. You want to be taken seriously? You handle that defeat with pride. You don't act like a baby about it, that's the girl's job.' I swallowed thickly, aggressively rubbing my eyes, feeling my face heat up as my boss raised an eyebrow at the way I wiped my face. He was definitely not going to think highly of me now. I backed out towards the door, clearing my throat with a shaky voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Gray. I appreciate your feedback. I will keep this in mind."

"Mhm," He had already sat down and turned back to his paperwork, unfazed by my interruption, "Oh! Noah. If you use company property for your hobbies or whatever you want to call it again, there will be big trouble. Consider this your warning."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

I backed out the door, closing it behind me and taking a shaky breath. I had to find some way, any way in the slightest to stand out and make myself more than what I was. I had dreams, I had skill. Someone out there was bound to take me seriously, right? There had to be something that would show Mr. Gray that I was just as good as everyone else, that I could make an invention that everybody would want.

Maybe I just had to do a little bit of hunting.