Chapter Text
Jon could still feel Nikola's cold, wrong fingers on his skin. After sufficiently taunting him, she'd left him alone with his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts did not like him very much either at the moment, it seemed.
His mouth was dry and all he could taste was the dirty fabric of the gag. He wondered absently where exactly Nikola had gone. Presumably, she was out somewhere buying skincare products.
He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. He was afraid, sure, but he was also fairly pissed off. And bored out of his mind. As it turned out, wax figures didn't make very entertaining company.
He sat there for what felt like an eternity before the sickening, overwhelming scents of countless lotions washed over him, alerting him of Nikola's return.
"Hello, Archivist!" she chirped. "Ready for the show?"
Before he could process what that meant, she gestured to someone behind him, and something struck his head, and, with a sharp flash of pain, everything went dark.
-
He came to to the feeling of something tugging at his shirt and the sound of cheering. Blinking his eyes open, he immediately shut them again against the bright lights he was met with. He slowly opened them again to see four not-quite-human figures tearing at the fabric of his shirt. He tried to yell at them to stop, but his words were muffled against the gag.
Nikola's face loomed above him, painted-on grin appearing even more unnatural underneath the bright lights. "Wakey wakey!" she giggled. Jon wanted to lash out, to hit her or kick her, anything to get her away, but all he could do was scream muffled curses at her through the fabric in his mouth.
He felt cold air on his chest as pieces of fabric fell away from his skin. The few tattered pieces of the shirt that remained on him were quickly removed, leaving his upper half bare.
It was only then that he realized they had an audience.
Countless servants of the Stranger had gathered to watch his humiliation.
He wasn't able to dwell on this fact for very long, though, because the next thing he heard was the sound of tearing fabric and suddenly he was completely exposed and he had never felt more vulnerable.
The audience laughed and cheered as he struggled and tried to escape. Tears poured down his face, but they made no difference. He wasn't going anywhere.
Nikola approached with a handful of lotion, and Jon closed his eyes as she began to apply it. His tears left streaks in the lotion on his face as he begged whatever deity might be listening to make it stop.
But the show must go on.