Chapter Text
The Panopticon was set to explode in less than a minute. A small team had lit the fuse and made their way out, through the tunnels, far away from the building. But inside, two people remained. Two lovers, doomed and dying, in the centre of it all. Mother is waiting. A spider watches from a crumbling wall.
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Martin's eyes were puffy and red; his arms heavy with the weight of Jon's limp body. His pleading went unanswered. The promise they made mere seconds ago felt meaningless. He brushed Jon's hair out of his face with his shaking, bloodied hand. Tears soaked his cheeks as he cradled him closer.
"Where you go, I go...," He whispered, kissing his forehead gently. Martin's mouth was dry. He set Jon's body down slowly and removed the blade handle from his chest. Martin didn't even jump when he heard the explosions in the distance. He had already made up his mind as he raised the knife to his own chest. The building began to shake and rock as Martin took his final breath, plunging the metal into his own flesh.
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His scream filled the void. Martin gasped, opening his eyes only to be met with stars. Thousands of shimmering lights. He was confused, looking around him; there was nothing for miles except them. His breathing was ragged. It wasn't the normal stars that he was used to. There was something off, but Martin hadn't seen real stars in what felt like ages. What do I know about astrology anyway? He tried to calm is breathing, looking around to try and figure out where he was. It was almost peaceful, but also destitute.
"Am I... dead?" He asked, the small sound echoed into the void around him. He tried to sit up from where he was lying, but something held him back. He shifted his head as far as the mysterious force would allow him. He looked towards his side and saw that he was stuck to... a-a.. giant web?!
"Not exactly dead," Martin turned his head towards the voice. Annabelle Cane was crossing over to him, hopping between the threads until she landed in front of him. "Annabelle? What the hell is this?!" She had more eyes than what would be deemed normal, for her, with a mischievous grin on her face. She laughed, "It seems you've finally awoken." Martin was confused and angry. Why is she like this? I just want a straight answer for once? He must have looked as upset as he felt because she clarified, "Martin, do you remember when you and I had that little chat about The Rift between worlds?" The Rift!? Martin wished he weren't stuck so that he could strangle the lady. He was hoping for a peaceful afterlife that he could spend with his lover and not have to worry about the Fears. NOT being stuck to an inter-dimensional web, having a cryptic conversation with 'Spiderwoman'. He took a deep breath. I need answers. Anger is not going to help me in this situation. He cleared his throat and asked, "Annabelle, why are we in the rift, and where is Jon?"
"The rift grew when the tower collapsed. I just used it to my advantage," she shrugged. Okay, translation: we fell into part of it, and she followed. Got it. But she didn't answer the important question: where's Jon? A small voice inside him hoped that he could still be revived somehow. "And where is my boyfriend?"
"The Archivist? he's not here right now," She said, waving a third hand? "I have yet to 'fetch' him." "fetch him?" What, like, he's a sack of potatoes at the store? "He is currently floating around here somewhere. I just need to find him," Martin looked around. HOW DO YOU LOSE SOMEONE IN THIS PLACE?? "So let me get this straight; he's fine, but he's just lost?" Martin grimaced. Stay calm. "Oh yes, he's all fine and dead, just lost," she replied almost cheerfully. Picking up a few spiders that were wandering around on the web. "SO HE IS DEAD?" “Well, you were too before I fixed you."
Fixed me!? "Wait, I did die?" With some effort, he unstuck his arm and felt his chest. There was a hole in the shirt, right where he stabbed himself, but there was no fresh blood or gaping wound. Running his hand over the area of skin, he could feel a long bump. He looked down and saw there were tiny strings stitching the skin together. "What did you do." He said, his voice slightly trembling. Martin thought of the stories Jon told him at the safe house. When he was little, he used to be scared of spiders crawling into his ears or his nose while he was sleeping and laying eggs inside of him. His mind also went back to Jon's coma and how he was brought back to life, but was marked in the process. Was he still human? What did Annabelle do to him while he was dead? "Now now, Martin, there is much more to be done. We don’t have time for silly little things," She said, turning her back to him.
Martin felt sick at the thought of spiders, "Whatever it is that the Fears are planning, Annabelle, I refuse to be a part of it! Why can't they just leave me- leave Jon- leave us alone!?" He cried out. I just want Jon back and to live a fairly uneventful existence. Is that so much to ask?
"Martin, you misunderstand," She turned back around and cheerily responded. "You do not have a choice in this. The Web will get its results one way or another," She waved her hand, and spiders descended onto the web around Martin and cut him off from the web. With nothing beneath his body, he fell through the abyss. He felt the air rush around him as he tried to yell, to scream some sort of threat or plead for his life. Over the wind, he could hear her cackle, "And don't worry about The Archivist, he’ll be fine!"
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10:23 am - Gerry Keay 2014
A bell jingled as Gerry walked out of a tech repair store. Gerry could not be happier. He was almost beaming with joy! He had just gotten his old iPod back from being fixed. The last time he held it in his hands was 2 weeks prior, when he had dropped it on the tube and cracked the small screen. Yet, here it was all new in his hand as if he had bought it yesterday. He walked a little faster; maybe he would add some new music to it when he got home tonight. He did discover this new underground band while it was gone. Gerry was only wearing some dark eyeshadow today and a neutral shade of lipstick, but there were still a few people who would stare at him before changing to the other side of the street. Gerry didn't mind. He was entranced by the small screen of the iPod and the lists of music, waiting to be played.
It was only when he turned onto another street that his trance was broken by his leg hitting something. What the hell? He turned around to see what he tripped over; perhaps it was a box or something. Nope, it's a bloody leg. What the hell? Gerry took out an earbud and looked at the person the leg was attached to. The man looked like he had just gotten dragged out of the woods from a camping trip. That or a homeless man. While Gerry was busy trying to decipher what had happened to him, he began to wake up. Gerry looked at his watch, debating whether he should help the guy. Only about 10:30, I could help him out a tad; the witch can wait.
The man twitched as he fought himself awake. Gerry reached out and gently spoke, "Hey mate, it's not a good idea to be sleeping out in front of the shops." He patted him on the arm, and the man jumped. He frantically looked around and back up at Gerry. Did I just wake up a guy on crack? Gerry was a little worried.
"...-Where am I?!"
Gerry refocused, "Sorry, what did you say?" The man had climbed to his feet now and adjusted his cracked glasses. "Um, never mind, could you point me towards the Magnus Institute?" Oh. Gerry studied him a little closer. There was dirt on his shirt, but blood stains and tears in the fabric as well. "Sure, I was just heading there myself," Gerry said warily. The man gave him a weird stare back before asking, "What are you going to the institute for?"
"Nothing much, just some work," Gerry replied, as he turned and started walking. He was a little worried about letting this guy follow him to his work, but anyone is better company than that cranky old woman. The man perked up, "Really, which department?" Gerry sighed, "Technically, the archives, but I'm not on the payroll." He laughed a little, "It's more of a temp job, really. I work other places too, but every couple of months I get a voice mail about some research she needs." The stranger laughed, "I had a boss like that once, too." The conversation died briefly as they walked. Gerry stopped after a good amount of silence, "Forgive me, but I never got your name?" The man paused, he looked like he was thinking about his answer before he replied, "My name's Martin. What's yours?" Martin nervously admitted. "Gerard, nice to meet you, Martin," Gerry smiled back. A flicker of recognition passed through his eyes before they darted away from Gerry's and towards a car turning onto the street.
Now that he looked at him, he seemed almost harmless. Sure, he looks like he's been through hell, but everyone has days like that. Gerry and Martin continued till they reached the road next to the institute. When they turned onto Millbank, they heard a large commotion.
Gerry rushed ahead a little to see what the matter was. Hopefully nothing weird. Two guys turning the corner, sprinting with the sound of sirens and screeching tires in the distance. One was laughing while the other was furiously yelling, "TIM, YOU IMBECILE, GOOD LORD HOW DID YOU SET OFF A FIRE ALARM?!" The angry one climbed the fence next to the institute, in one solid motion, and darted towards the back of the building, while the other -supposedly 'Tim'- did it less gracefully and out of breath. They both disappeared right as a cop car turned the corner after them.
It sped past Gerry and Martin and into the distance. He looked at Martin, whose face had a look of shock. He poorly hid his smile behind a hand. Martin sputtered, "What- what was THAT about!?" Gerry noticed a little spider running across the sidewalk away from Martin, "Those guys? I believe that was a couple of the guys from the research department, they, uh, are always up to something weird," he squished the tiny creature with his boot. "Not quite the same weird that I deal with, but they're bound to have issues too, working at the institute," He walked towards the front door and opened it for Martin. Martin was still facing the fence where the two men escaped. "Martin, hurry up!"
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11:01 am - F. Martin Blackwood 2014
When I fell, did I hit the ground too hard? Am I dreaming? When Martin had woken up on the sidewalk of London and he thought it was strange that it wasn't rubble like it should have been after the Fears paved over it with the domains. A man, whom he later learned was named Gerard, helped him to his feet and didn't look the slightest bit traumatised. He was nice and even walked with him to the institute when he asked. From the information Gerard revealed, he was 100% sure that this was Gerry, the ghost guy, who had worked with Gertrude. Jon had mentioned that when he met him, he was very gothic and moody. The thing was, he remembered Gerry's page being burned, so how was he here and how was he still working with Gertrude? And why did those two look so much like Jon and Ti- unless.
"Martin, hurry up!" Gerry called, holding the door open for him. His daze wore off as the puzzle pieces in his head formed a picture. No. NO WAY. The rift was between worlds. Was there a way he had… He stumbled in and towards the front desk. Rosie was sitting, looking at a magazine that she had taken from a small rack on the edge of the desk. Next to the magazines was also a popular newspaper. Martin grabbed it and searched the front page. Underneath some headline about flooding, he found the date.
The year was clearly legible and read 2014. Martin froze. He was right when he thought he saw Tim and Jon running down the sidewalk. He was right when he thought that Gerry was dead! He thought it was just his imagination, but he really was in an untouched London. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, knocking over the stand of papers and other things.
"What on Earth?" He could hear Rosie say, as he clutched the side of the desk. He was in the past!! Annabelle sent me back? Should I even call it the past? Is this an entirely different world or just at a different time? Why, what reasons would she have for sending me here? As Martin tried to think over Rosie's muffled yelling, a familiar shadow passed in the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw the face of the last person he wanted to see in a vulnerable state like this. The eyes of a man who got everything he wanted and more. The cold, dead stare of Jonah Magnus. He looked down at Martin as he approached. His cane clacked across the floor with each step he took. It seemed no matter where Martin went, he would never escape from this monster. He looked around for Gerry. Maybe he could still run away, but he saw him in the shadow of a hall, glaring at Elias as he slipped out of sight.
Jonah was now right in front of Martin. Despite being short, Martin's face was cast in shadow as he looked up at him. The plastic smile he had been wearing since he had walked in turned to a sneer, "I wasn't expecting any visitors today."