Chapter Text
Gerry Keay tossed the book 1,000 Faces Under the Sun into the rusting, metal barrel full of burning trash. The book burned nicely, the pages curling up on themselves and blackening within seconds. Deeper inside the flames there was a loud 'pop', probably some plastic piece of garbage meeting the same end as the cursed book. Sighing, Gerry put his hands up and let the flames warm his skin. The summer night was oddly cool and his hands were freezing. He was used to running cold, but fuck, did he hate it.
Suddenly, there was a voice at Gerry's side. "I quite liked that book."
Looking over his shoulder where Gerry heard the voice, he found nothing. Frowning, he looked over his other shoulder and damn near jumped at seeing a- thing right next to him. It's face was right next to his own. It wasn't human, Gerry knew that. Tall and gangly, it was- human in appearance almost. Gerry knew the thing was a monster, but with how quickly and silently it creeped up on him, it could have damn well killed him by that point if it wanted to. The only real surprise there was why the thing hadn't killed him.
Gerry was a little too fed up at being cold to care about the thing that was staring into the flames with a too-toothy smile and odd, colour wheel eyes. "Tough." He took a step away from the thing and a gust of air blew over them, sending smoke and flicks of fire through the air. It made Gerry shiver and he stood closer to the burn barrel. "If you really wanted it so badly you had all the opportunity to stop me from burning it." The heat from the fire made the skin on his palms feel like it was wrinkling, but when he pulled his hands away he found that they immediately felt cold again.
The thing made a noise. It was not a noise that Gerry had ever heard before, but it sounded almost amused. "I already read it. I'm just a little disappointed I won't get to see how others take it." It giggled, and the sound echoed loudly. "A good book can truly change how a person views themselves." It laughed again, putting a long fingered hand over its mouth while teetering back and forth like a tree in a strong wind.
It's laughter seemed to cause a pang of pain through Gerry's skull. There was a headache throbbing right behind his eyes. He grit his teeth and stepped back from the barrel, rubbing the sides of his head with his fingers. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He hissed and stopped rubbing his head to give it a few quick taps with his fingers. It was true. Gerry didn't understand the thing or what it was saying. If anything, he was tired and didn't want to have to deal with it or it's obscure bullshit.
"Good!" It said, it's giggles tampering off.
When it's laughter stopped, Gerry's headache faded somewhat but the pain was still there. He couldn't remember if he had any ibuprofen left at the shitty apartment he was renting for the month… He hoped he did. Even the thing's voice was jarring. It worked his brain like a cheese grater. Gerry sighed, dropping his hands from his head. "Was it your book then? If you're a monster enough not to be affected by it, it's probably yours, huh?"
"Oh, no. It wasn't mine." In one, sweeping moment, it was closer to the burn barrel. It looked like it had been badly edited to just appear there, suddenly phasing into that space. It's arm reached, long and continuous like some gross gag, into the flames of the barrel. The fire seemed not to harm it. A second later, it retracted its arm and held out a small, singed piece of paper. "Nor was it his." It held the paper between it's claw-like fingers, examining it briefly before dropping it.
The paper floated for a second and without thinking, Gerry reached out to grab it. He knew what it said before he even touched it. From the library of Jurgen Leitner . It said, stamped out in dull, brown ink.
"No." Gerry crumpled the paper and threw it back into the fire. "None of those books belong to him." He looked at the thing's arm. Aside from being longer than it ought to have been, it looked totally unharmed by the fire. "And I suppose that answers my question about you being a monster." It was strange, there was no doubt about the thing's monsterhood- yet unlike the other monsters Gerry had met, it didn't seem keen to kill him. At least not yet.
"Sure." It's expression was a blank smile, but it's eyes were large and watching. "If I'm a monster, does that make you a little run-away eye?" It pointed at Gerry's tattooed knuckles. Black stick and poke eyes were on each and every one of them. "Such an odd way to brand yourself for your patron."
Wrinkling his nose at this, Gerry shook his head. "I'm not a part of the Eye, it's not my patron. I'm not a part of any of the Fears." He said. "I have these tattoos for me and me only."
The thing just looked at Gerry like he was a primary schooler that said something very amusing. "No patron? Usually all of Gertrude's little helpers are at least picked by something."
That was it. The thing wanted something to do with Gertrude. Gerry had quit helping her almost a year ago and yet all the fucking monsters who had a grudge against her still came to him first. What was he supposed to do about it? Open some support group for all the people she had wronged?
Gerry frowned, and tried to look at the thing before him. It was difficult, especially with how the rippling air from the fire wobbled it's appearance. The longer Gerry looked at it, the more his headache began to return with an angry force. But he wouldn't look away, it was stupid, but he wanted to look at it. Mussed up blond curls, mix-matched blue and green eyes with different sized pupils, and-
The pain in Gerry's head came to a point where it brought tears to his eyes. He hissed and looked away. "I'm not working with Gertrude anymore. I'm not fond of-" Gerry rubbed his fists over his eyes, not caring of how it would smudge his day-old eye makeup. "Of her methods."
It watched Gerry. Gerry didn't have to have his eyes open to know that. He could feel it's gaze on him like a pressure, a weight .
"That makes two of us then." For the first time in their interaction, it looked anything but pleased. It frowned, the expression was oddly human and not distorted to fit some odd caricature.
Pulling his hands away from his eyes, Gerry spied the black eye-shadow that had transferred to his hands. He wiped it off on his shirt, looking at it carefully now. If focusing on it too much caused pain, then Gerry would just do his best to look at it in a way where he wasn't focused on the oddness of it's appearance. "What are you?" He asked. The conversation seemed to be going on longer than the usual conversations Gerry had with monsters- which were less of a conversation and more just trying to kill each other.
"I am Michael." It said. It's frown disappeared and it now looked at Gerry with placid interest. "I know you're the book burner… But what do you call yourself?"
Although Gerry didn't get the sense that Michael was lying, it's answer didn't seem right. "You don't look like a 'Michael'." He said, giving Michael a quick once over. Michael was too much of a common name, and this Michael was anything but common. "I'm Gerry."
Michael tittered out a little laugh. "And you don't look like someone who isn't aligned with the Eye." It pointed out, moving around the burn barrel in a fluid motion. It was right in front of Gerry in less than a second. "But neither of us is lying, Gerry ."
Up close, Gerry felt just how tall Michael was compared to himself. He hated how it bent it's neck at such a sharp angle just to look down at him. Gerry looked up at Michael, holding his ground and not moving. "And just what are you, Michael?" He asked.
"If I remember, you called me a monster." Michael smiled. It tapped a thin, clawed finger to it's chin almost absentmindedly. "But I suppose you want me to be a little more specific, huh, little moth?"
A chill went down Gerry's spine. "Don't call me that." He said. "My name is 'Gerry'. I'm not some bug-" He figured that getting upset was just what Michael wanted him to do. He wasn't going to let it get a rise out of him. "Whatever." He sighed. "'Monster' is a broad term in my line of work. I'd like to know what kind of monster you are."
Michael did not answer Gerry's question, instead it asked one of it's own. "What Entity did that book belong to?"
Blinking, Gerry thought for a moment. The book he had stolen and promptly burned, had been made to feed the Spiral. "You're a part of the Spiral then?" He asked. It made sense, Gerry felt a little stupid for not realizing it sooner.
"Not quite." Michael said. It stepped away from Gerry and raked it's fingers along the burn barrel. The barrel split open under it's touch and fell, crumbling into a metal heap of flames and half burnt trash. "I am a… Segment of the Spiral, I am a part of it, but I am also myself."
"Very clear, that is, thanks." Gerry grumbled. He eyed the burning trash and stepped back from it. "But I suppose that's your whole deal?" Michael only smiled at him, and Gerry felt himself beginning to be fed up with it. All Gerry wanted to do was go to the flat he was temporarily calling home, take some painkillers, and take a shower before trying to get some sleep. Michael was wasting his time. "Listen, I don't-"
Cutting Gerry off, Michael finally spoke. "You're very interesting, little moth… More so than I would have thought." It rested it's face in one of it's large palms, staring at Gerry with that weighted gaze again. "Maybe you'll provide more entertainment than that old book did."
That caught Gerry off guard. He didn't like how Michael said 'entertainment'. At once he steadied his stance and reached for the knife he had clipped on his belt. Gerry gripped the hard, cold metal of the closed pocket knife and pulled it off his belt.
Michael's eyes flicked towards Gerry's hand. "That won't be necessary." It said, "You're too interesting to kill, at least right now. Watching you burn books and make messes for the others is fun." It turned, and behind it there was a yellow door that had certainly not been there before.
Eying the door, Gerry flicked his knife open; the blade reflected the orange glow of the fire in the remains of the barrel. He knew better than to trust Michael. "I don't do what I do to fuck with the Fears- I do it for me and because I don't really like the thought of the world ending."
Opening the yellow door, Michael looked over it's shoulder at Gerry. Inside the door was a bright, twisting hallway. "Another… similarity ." It grinned, then it stepped inside the door. "Goodbye, little moth." It giggled, and the vibrant hallways visible inside the door shifted, moving almost as if they were swallowing Michael.
Before Gerry could say anything more, the yellow door swung shut and it was gone without a trace that it had even been there in the first place.
Gerry stood next to the smoldering remains of the burn barrel with a terrible headache and sense of confusion he couldn't shake. "Well," He muttered to himself. " That happened." He didn't like that interaction one bit, not that it was necessarily bad- Gerry just didn't trust it. He didn't think he liked Michael very much, and Gerry would be happy never to see the long-limbed thing again. However, he figured it was only a matter of time before the thing called Michael visited him again… Gerry just hoped it wouldn't be soon.