Chapter Text
“Do I look like an idiot to you?”
The thing in front of him tilted its wings in the air. Its engine coughed, spluttering like it was laughing, slowly rising again as it recovered. How could it laugh? It was a flying toy. It had the shape of a miniature fighter jet, painted in red and white, and yet it was fully functional. With a voice that grated on Seth’s ears.
“…yes.” It squeaked. Holy hell, that pitch was so high.
Seth narrowed his eyes at it. Whatever it was. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank all those energy drinks in the span of a single hour, because this hallucination was getting ridiculous. Thomas was always getting on his case about it, anyway.
This wasn’t what he had expected to happen this afternoon. After he had finished with his morning courses, he’d clocked into his internship at a lab near to his university where he monitored the effects of microplastics and other human-made material on jellyfish and their responses. It wasn’t exactly grueling work, but considering the time that he’d woken up today and how many caffeinated beverages—energy drinks and coffee—he’d consumed since then, it wasn’t pretty.
He’d been walking down the street from the lab back home, the late afternoon light hazing over the brick townhouses that cast their shade down to him and the trees that were turning orange, when a shining glimmer in an alley he was passing made him look towards it.
And now he was probably nearly dead, because there was no way on this earth that he had suddenly tuned into whatever inner magical girl persona his soul had secretly developed, and started to imagine that a tiny fighter jet was speaking to him.
“I didn’t go through linear algebra in high school to be called an idiot by a flying piece of plastic,” he muttered.
“I didn’t travel through a whole other dimension to entertain a fool of a prissy intern.”
“Who the hell you calling prissy?!”
Seth shrugged off his tote bag right there in the alley, ready to throw down with the annoying mystery object.
“Wait!” the thing cried, its voice getting impossibly more scratchy and higher in pitch. Seth had to flinch at the way it pierced his ears. “Please! Let me explain!”
“I think you’ve explained plenty,” Seth replied, rolling up the sleeves of his quarter-zip. “Claiming that I am destined for a future where I turn into a giant robot that defeats weekly enemies? Not to mention going to a school where I learn magic?! I have my diploma!”
The thing cowered, retreating and deflating. Clearly it was afraid of the notion of an education.
“…not your magical diploma…” it peeped, then immediately fled behind the dumpster at the back of the alley as Seth took a swing at it. Damn, it was kind of fast.
“Why on Earth would I need a magical diploma?!”
“To save my world!”
Seth really was hallucinating.
“What world?” He sneered, advancing on its position behind the dumpster. “Don’t tell me you come from a magic-run utopia or something like that.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
Seth grit his teeth, finally popping around the corner of the dumpster and trying to grab the little jet. Unsurprisingly, he slipped on the slick concrete and flailed his hands to regain balance, and the jet flew out of the mouth of the alley into broad daylight, where anyone could see the thing.
Oh my god, what the hell.
“Hey! Idiot!” he snarled, grabbing his bag off the filthy ground (why did he even put it down? Now he would just track sewer and horrible little creatures into his room), and sprinted down the sidewalk after the flying abomination. Seriously, did it want to get taken by the authorities and get dissected for real?
But strangely, as Seth dashed through the city after the jet, nearly tripping over four absurdly high curbs, he realized that the path he was taking was the same as the one he usually took on his way home. Oh, hell no. Did this little plane know where he lived? Was it a stalking device? Someone was watching him toil away in a lab with biomedical projects sapping the life out of him, and knew where he lived!
Gritting his teeth, he sprinted faster after the jet, almost crashing into the couple walking in front of him. Grr. Idiots. At this point, he was at the park near the more commercial area of the city of Iacon, concrete planters and winding dirt paths in expanses of green. And, unfortunately for Seth, with much more people to witness him chasing after a tiny flying object like a madman.
Just as he narrowly avoided being flattened by a group of skateboarding brats rolling out to the sidewalk—
He slammed into a wall of something solid, soft, and warm.
“Oof!” The wall grunted, as Seth stumbled to the ground, scraping his palms on the concrete.
“Watch where you’re going, you—”
His snarl died miserably in his mouth when he saw who exactly he had run into.
A very familiar white turtleneck and blue vest filled his vision first, then a set of blue eyes that were completely, unfairly beautiful.
“Seth?” Even the man’s voice treated his name like something to be careful with. “Are you okay? Did something happen at the lab?”
A large, only slightly-calloused hand appeared in Seth’s eyesight, and he begrudgingly took his, warmth flooding to his face as he stood with the help of his colleague.
“I’m fine, Jude,” he replied, much quieter than before. “The lab is also fine. I just…forgot that I left the stove on! At home. So I need to go turn it off before it burns down my whole complex. It’d be a horrific fire, you know. Since it would take everything down. The fire and stuff.”
He was rambling and he knew it. Hell, his face was probably red like a tomato! This wasn’t fair. This had been going on for months: split-seconds of eye contact across the lab had lead to talking, talking had led to friendship, friendship had…alluded to whatever this was between him and Jude. And whatever this was, it always made him nervous , jittery, a fool.
Jude didn’t seem to have the same effect upon him, which was totally outrageous. Seth deserved some dignity spared for him, too!
The minute he caught that little jet toy thing—whatever it was—it was over for everybody in a 25 mile radius. The power of his frustration would not be contained.
“O-oh, alright,” Jude stammered. “Yeah, you do that. Um…no pressure, but do you think we could grab dinner another time? I really had fun last week with you. I was just out to get a smoothie right now and I saw this cute place nearby, if you wanted to try.”
Seth blinked, then finally found his voice in the place where it fled at the back of his throat, the coward. “I—yes. Of course! Yes. Right. Cool. I would love that.”
“Great! I can text you more about it later, after I check on my brine shrimp in the fridge—”
“I really appreciate it, Jude,” Seth interrupted, trying not to sound unkind, “but can I please prevent my block from bursting into flames?”
“Ah! Sorry! Yes, hurry!”
“Stupid jet, stupid park, what the hell am I supposed to do…” he muttered to himself as soon as he was out of earshot. Dammit. He’d lost the little jet in all the conversation with Jude. How would he be able to spot it now? Had someone already taken it? What use was it, anyway? What was the other world it supposedly came from? What if—
“Ack!”
A squeaky little voice right next to his right ear made Seth jump almost a foot in the air, a little choked sound escaping his chest.
The little abomination was floating right near the ivy-covered wall at the end of the park, half-hidden in shadow.
“Oh, you—!” Seth made to grab it, but it dodged his flailing again, and sped off the sidewalk. Surprisingly, it seemed like nobody noticed a child’s toy zooming through the air in broad daylight, but then again, all those energy drinks Seth had bought at the lab’s main lobby probably were probably the culprit.
Great. Now that he thought of that, everyone probably saw a sweaty intern chasing around nothing but air with a murderous expression on his face.
His lungs were burning by the time he saw that the jet was across the street, heading directly toward his apartment complex like it had a right to be there. Seth watched from the crosswalk, halted by the red light, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t run like this is a while. For once, he envied Scarlett’s daily, absurdly fast-paced runs through the city.
Wait, no, he didn’t. Scarlett wouldn’t get any victory from him, hypothetical or not!
The shade of the tree above him did little to cool him as he impatiently waited to cross the street. The cars didn’t seem to stop coming, going, streaking past in a blur until he lost count of how many times he’d gotten irritated with the duration of this green light.
Seriously? There was something trying to break into his apartment! It could be the work of a stalker! Could a stalker even be that technically advanced to make a whole flying replica of a fighter jet, though? That talked?
Finally, the light transitioned to red, and Seth was sprinting across the street—no, scratch that. He started to run diagonally across the intersection, nearly avoiding getting run over by a very angry-looking driver in a heavily tinted car. Seth didn’t care; if they didn’t want to pay insurance for anything, maybe they should’ve thought about keeping their ability to see six feet out a window!
He all but tripped up the stairs to his complex—he didn’t know that was possible for someone like him—and fell into the lobby with the grace of a beached whale. The receptionist looked up, startled from her work, then rolled her eyes without a word. Excuse her?! One moment of him losing his dignity and that was what she acted like?
Seth could only gawk for a moment from his place on the floor, then jolted up again as he remembered there was an active breach on his household by a piece of plastic.
But where was it? It wasn’t in the lobby, and if it had been, the receptionist would surely have said something about it, from the strangeness of it all. He didn’t hear any high-pitched, god-awful buzzing nearby or outside, so where could it be? He couldn’t have left his door unlocked or window unlatched for it to fly its slimy little self in. Could it even open doors? Did it really have magic that it could use to get into his complex?
This is ridiculous. I should be worrying about my damn microplastics-consuming jellyfish in their tank, not about something I never knew I could imagine up!
He stumbled to the elevators, hitting the button with more force than necessary. He stiffened in the elevator car, catching his bedraggled reflection in the shiny metal doors as they closed behind him. So much for his dignity, for sure.
The minute he saw his apartment door fully closed in the hallway, he relaxed, sagging on the wall for a minute before adjusting his satchel on his shoulder. There was no way the little plane could have sneaked in through his front door, which diminished its overall possibility of being here at all. Maybe it flew back to its rightful place in the alley dumpster.
This is all the work of the four energy drinks and half an espresso. Yes.
He took his keys from his bag, only fumbling with the lock once and stepping inside, slamming the door closed behind him. Nothing would get in, not on his watch.
I should probably just admit myself to the hospital. Thomas was right about my caffeine intake.
“Seth? That you?”
Scarlett’s voice called from the kitchen, accompanied by the rustling of plastic bags. She had probably gone to the grocery store, like a responsible roommate. Hmm. That was scary; she was never responsible, last time Seth checked.
“Who else would it be?” he responded, scoffing a little bit, “I doubt you gave your keys to our dear upstairs neighbor.”
Tossing his bag onto the small couch and walking into the kitchen, he found Scarlett unpacking her goods from three plastic bags on the little counter.
“I did, actually.”
“You did not.”
“Oh, my fellow rent-payer, you are so easy to rile up!”
“Call me that again, let’s see what happens.”
“Chill, dude. Jeez. Of course I wouldn’t just give my spare keys to Jackie, what, are you crazy? All that time smooching your lab assistant got to your head or something?”
He was about to strangle her against the refrigerator when a gruff, very unfamiliar voice cut in.
“Lemme outta this damn thing! Scarlett!”
Seth froze. That didn’t sound like Thomas, unless Thomas had decided to deepen his voice an octave or two and feel the need to be brash about everything he said. It also wasn’t coming from the little office Thomas usually sat at all day, absorbed in his tiny world consisting of him and his computer.
No, this voice sounded like it was, impossibly, coming directly from the kitchen counter where Scarlett’s bags sat.
There was a dark shape in one of them, but before Seth could take a closer look, Scarlett intercepted him, shielding the bag with her body.
“Nope, nothing in there,” she tossed her head, her perpetually messy pixie cut tousling even more.
“Well, clearly there is something speaking to you, so I would have to call you a liar.”
“And I’m gonna call you an idiot high on espresso.”
“I am not!”
“Yuh huh. Nothing’s talking to anybody.”
The unfamiliar voice called out again, enraged. “Hello?! Scarlett! Take me out of this bag or I’m gonna curse you!”
“You wouldn’t—ow!”
Scarlett tore her hand away from the bag, clutching her index finger where it had begun to bleed from several small puncture wounds. The thing in the plastic bag thrashed, rustling up a storm, until it was finally free from its confines.
By the time it flew up to hover in front of Scarlett’s pout, Seth was gaping so much he looked like a carp.
“It’s—that’s—what did you buy?!”
“Buy?” Scarlett sounded affronted. “I didn’t buy this finger-munching dunce! He followed me through the grocery store and hid in my bag. Saying some shit about a magic academy that I gotta go to. Ha! Give me my BA first, then I’ll consider joining the asylum.”
“Hello?! Look who’s calling me a dunce!”
The tiny, black and purple jet that was identical to the one Seth himself had been chasing was right there in their kitchen, talking to Scarlett the same way Seth’s had done.
“Your name is literally so stupid it should be used as an insult—hey! OW!”
Scarlett yelped in pain as her jet bit down on a chunk of her hair and pulled hard.
Seth was about to help when an infernal tapping began at the window, and to his immense horror, the red and white jet, his jet, was there. It leered through the glass—how could it do that—and tapped again, in a maddening rhythm, bonking its cockpit repeatedly. The taps blended with Scarlett’s scuffle with her own plane, creating such a ruckus that Seth was sure his head was about to explode.
But before he could detonate in the middle of the kitchen, Thomas stormed out of his office into the small living area, more annoyed than Seth remembered him ever being. His thin-framed glasses seemed to flare in irritation.
“What is that sound—”
Thomas froze at the sight of Scarlett throwing down with a flying object only a little bigger than the size of her fist, and the presence of another little jet outside their window.
He looked at Seth with eyes that were so disbelieving the latter thought they might pop out of his skull. “…I’m dreaming.”
“You’re not, unfortunately,” Seth muttered, making no move to open the window.
"Knock me out please, then.”
“Gladly. With what? You get to choose between the crowbar I know Scarlett hides in her room for some reason, or your own computer.”
“Not my computer! My…journalism is on there!”
“We both know you write fanfiction, Thomas. There’s no shame in being hit in the head with your own work.”
Thomas sagged, contemplating his choices. But before he could say another word, the window slid open in a whoosh of sparkles, and two planes flew in without any sort of etiquette.
“I also know you write fanfiction, Thomas,” the second plane said, in a much less annoying voice than the first two. It had a blue paint job, tinged with white accents that did absolutely nothing to calm Thomas as it flew right up to his face.
“You…know…” it was barely a squeak, but the plane nodded—well, as much as it could.
“Nevermind,” Thomas sounded like he was about to collapse. “I can knock myself out.”
A great crash of a body falling signified the end of Scarlett’s battle, brought to the floor by a victorious purple jet spitting hair strands out of its minuscule mouth. Seth was getting more weirded out by the second. Did planes have anatomy now? Was he technically in the stomach of one the next time he flew out of the city? He shuddered at the thought.
“Ow…” Scarlett groaned, rubbing at her scalp. “You’re gonna pay, y’know! Wait ‘til I getcha!”
Seth’s jet spoke then. “Skywarp, we need to complete the jump!”
“What jump?” Seth demanded. “And how did you find my apartment?!”
He was ignored.
Skywarp, the purple jet, gave a great sigh as it (he? The voice was very masculine). “Ugh, Starscream, you know how tired I get after jumping.”
“Too bad. I don’t hear Thundercracker complaining. We’re jumping unless you blow your processor.”
“You bet I could!”
“Don’t try it!” The blue plane, Thundercracker presumably, jumped in, flapping its spoilers. “Seriously, what’s with you? We need to bring these three to the academy by tomorrow or we’ll be late!”
“Nuh uh! You’re not taking me anywhere!” Scarlett sprang up from her place on the floor, stalking over to the rest of the planes. “You tiny little prick, I’m gonna squish you like a roach and you can’t do anything about it—”
The three planes abruptly started to fly in a dizzying circle, so fast that they were blurs in the air. A single spark flared in the center, and in a burst of blinding light, there was a glimmering, swirling portal to somewhere that was not Iacon.
A tendril of pink smoke unfurled from the portal, wrapping itself around Scarlett’s waist.
“What the hell is happen—OH FU—”
With a jerk, Scarlett was pulled into the portal, cutting her curse short.
“Scarlett!” Thomas shouted, running after her with only a second's hesitation. Seth swore he could hear him screaming faintly.
Seth was left standing in the middle of the kitchen, panic crawling under his skin. His two roommates had just been sucked into a one-way doorway to wherever, and it was fading. He could see it flickering at the edges, growing paler in saturation.
Taking a few deep breaths, he bounced on his heels. “Ok. Ok, they’re probably fine. Not dead. Don’t think about that. I—my god, if I die without a degree…”
Cursing everything that led to this atrocious turn of events, he broke into a sprint and dove into the swirling mass, feeling it close for good behind him.
His last thought was hilariously an apologetic one.
Jude’s gonna have a fit.