Work Text:
The apartment barely qualified as a living space anymore. It was more of a glorified storage unit that happened to have running water. In all honesty, it was a miracle the single resident hadn't been evicted yet.
Tripods leaned against the stained walls of the small room, camera bags were stacked in unstable towers, tangled cables snaked across the floor, and old lighting rigs consumed every corner that wasn't already occupied by plastic tubs full of props. Across the walls were shelves bowed under the weight of lenses, hard drives, and countless DVDs with handwritten labels. Empty soda cans outnumbered anything resembling dishes, and clothes had long since stopped belonging in hampers. Shirts, pants, hoodies, boxers, and belts decorated with enough metal to set off airport security were scattered wherever Tobias had stepped out of them..
Only two narrow paths remained untouched. One led from the pull-out couch to his computer, connecting with the front door on the way, and the other led from the computer to the bathroom. Not that the man sitting crooked in an office chair seemed to care about his living habits.
The chair beneath Tobias squealed as he shifted his weight, one boot now propped on the edge of the desk. His grey T-shirt bore a few unexplainable stains, while his scarred arms were hidden beneath layered bracelets and jewelry. A heavy spiked collar rested around his neck, with a cross necklace hanging beneath it. Fake lip rings, eyebrow piercings, and studs decorated his face, nearly concealed beneath the locs of jet black hair framing his skinny face. In a way, one could view his appearance as almost theatrical, if it wasn't for his entirely serious demeanor.
The room itself was painted in the pale glow from the monitor, the screen boring what appeared to be a homemade website. It had a black background with red text, the top of the page reading {MESSAGE BOARD} above all the grainy thumbnails. There were options below to visit a storefront page, a gallery, and direct contact instructions.
Out of everything, the message board had to be Tobias’s favorite. He loved the feeling of euphoria he got when he read peoples questions, or loving compliments… it drove him absolutely mad when he was slow on getting engagement. Lucky for the man, today was not one of those days. He had just finished with his most recent film and posted it only a few hours ago. There were tons of people visiting his site to pay for the newest video.
He refreshed the page for what had to be the twentieth time that hour.
[dontlookback]: «Still the best film director on the web. Nobody cuts footage like you. Fuck, that last one was a good one.»
A crooked grin spread across Tobias's face as he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Obviously."
He scrolled down to look at the next one, his knee bouncing in anticipation.
[QuietArchive04]: «Uff it's so hot 🥴… The atmosphere is unreal…. Feels like watching an underground horror movie instead of some cheap shock garbage.»
His shoulders lifted with quiet satisfaction. That one lingered in his head longer than it probably should have, but he couldn't help himself. He loved hearing how people loved his films- after all, he spent so much of his money, his time, his life on making them. So hearing someone say they enjoyed it.. It was nearly as intoxicating as the films themselves.
Most visitors on his site came looking for cheap thrills, which is expected. They click through his pages like vultures trying to find something to shock them, to scratch a very specific itch Toby himself was all too familiar with. Tobias prided himself on the fact he could make gore - fetishes see past the blood and guts, and into the deeper meaning.
With the hum, he refreshed the page yet again.
[ID_092817]: «How long have you been making films?»
His fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing under an anonymous moderator account.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Long enough to know my way around both a filming setup and a body. LOL.»
Technically he wasn't supposed to reply himself… it was most definitely a risk. Who knows what kind of people wanted to get their hands on him? Tobias read threats all the time on his own page, from murder to much worse. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he enjoyed seeing someone get so passionate. He pushed the thought away as he pressed enter, posting his reply with a grin. Who was going to stop him, anyways?
The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he lifted the soda can next to him, taking a swig before he tossed it beneath his desk, joining the cemetery with a metallic clink. Without looking, he reached for another from a nearby case, cracked it open, and took a long drink as he refreshed the page.
Nothing.
He waited about 30 seconds before he got impatient.
Refresh.
Still nothing.
His leg bounced a little harsher now, the man clearly growing progressively more impatient. Somewhere outside, he could hear the distant humming of traffic, muffled beneath the rainfall tapping against the windows. Probably on their way to work, maybe to visit family… it all acted like background noise. He refreshed yet again, expecting to be greeted by nothing yet again, but he was pleasantly surprised to see a new message.
[Zp81Wc04]: «I think somebody's looking for you.»
His grin faded as he stared dumbly at the screen, rereading the line again. The cursor blinked beneath it as he hovered over the message before he clicked on the account. It was completely blank, with a generic username, and created only 2 minutes ago. The user had already gone offline.
For what felt like a lifetime, although was in reality maybe 45 seconds at the longest, Tobias did nothing. He just stared. It wasn't unusual, and in fact, it was a pretty lackluster threat. He's had people send him his own address and photos of his apartment complex before. This was nothing in comparison. But for some reason, something about this specific comment made his stomach twist.
Usually, he loved the feeling of standing out, it didn't even matter in what way. Compliments, arguing, reaction.. It got him riled up, but this time, he wanted nothing more than to disappear. He sniffled before he quickly typed out a response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Looking for me how?»
He stared at the message after sending it. A minute passed, and there was no reply. He sat back with a grunt, his brows knitting together. Sure, people had lives, they were busy, but he had a sickening feeling that this person wasn't very busy this particular evening.
He opened a new tab, full of the login history and IP addresses for anyone who uses his website. Usually, he didn't care to open this addon. He only really had it in case of an emergency. He scrolled down until he found the day's date, staring at the histories. He looked at the attached user names and corresponding IP Addresses, until he found what he was looking for. Username: Zp81Wc04 IP: 274.913.84.405.
Toby's eyes narrowed as he leaned in. IPs couldn't go past 255… This troll had a fake IP. He growled low in his throat as he switched tabs back to the message board, seeing no new messages. He rolled his eyes, scrolling down to another thread. Maybe some praise could clear his mind…. A compliment about his editing… A question about his equipment… Someone arguing about one of his older films… The normal, usually comforting posts. His eyes kept drifting back to the new message… I think somebody's looking for you… The sentence repeated in his mind like a song stuck in a loop.
Looking for him… but who? A fan? A troll? Someone just trying to get under his skin? Or maybe even someone he knew? The man scoffed as he shook his head. “Goddamn lowlifes..”
People threatened him constantly. They typed out fantasies behind anonymous accounts because they wanted to feel powerful. They wanted to pretend they were different from everyone else. He's read constantly in detailed descriptions of just how they would violate his body, and much worse… He just couldn't wrap his head around why this simple statement made him feel so uneasy.
He clicked the reply box again.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Who are you?»
Send.
Refresh.
Nothing.
[anonymous_lurker]: «You made an account just to say that?»
Send.
Refresh.
Nothing.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Cute.»
Send.
Refresh.
Nothing.
[anonymous_lurker]: «If you're trying to freak me out, at least be interesting.»
…
Nothing.
He waited about 5 minutes before he groaned, his head falling into his hands. He ran his hands down his face as he stared into the monitor's glow. His leg was bouncing quickly beneath him, so much so it was making the stack of DVDs next to him wobble. He looked over at the rattling stack, his head lifting slightly.
It suddenly dawned on him just how cramped his quarters were.
Every piece of equipment surrounding him, every camera pointed toward every corner, every hard drive sitting on the shelves.. For the first time, he didn't enjoy being surrounded by the articles of his work. They felt like evidence. A big, cramped room full of things that could get him imprisoned for who-knew how long.
He stood abruptly, the chair rolling backward and bumping into a stack of empty cans. The banging echoed in the small room. He glanced over to the door before he walked over, leaning down to look through the peephole. Rather than greeted with anyone, all he could see was the yellow wallpaper of the hallway connecting his room to his neighbors. There was no one there. He exhaled slowly as he straightened and ran a hand through his hair.
“Get it together, Tobes.”
He muttered before he turned and stalked back to his desk, his eyes narrowing. The best way to handle someone like this was simple. Flood them out, make them irrelevant. That's what he had done in the past. He cracked his knuckles before he began quickly typing
[anonymous_lurker]: «Anyone else notice the weird account?»
[anonymous_lurker]: «New user trying to be mysterious, lol.»
[anonymous_lurker]: «Guess people really want my attention today.»
[anonymous_lurker]: «Another admirer, maybe?»
[anonymous_lurker]: «Everyone loves a mystery.»
The posts piled up. At first, they were jokes, which then shifted into explanations, then theories.. it got to the point the man was talking straight nonsense, but he didn't seem to care. After about 7 minutes, the board was filled with his own username, and the endless conversation he was having with himself.
After a few seconds, he refreshed the page, staring at the newest reply. It wasn't from that mystery account, much to Tobias’s relief.
[nobodyimportant]: «Dude, are you okay? Lmao.»
His eyes narrowed.
Another.
[subject_zero9]: «You posted like 40 times in five minutes.»
Another.
[RavenGirl13]: «Are you having an episode? Should've seen it coming, considering your content.»
Tobias stared at the screen, a grin slowly returning. It may not have been exactly positive, but shit, anything was better than that goddamn anonymous poster. He refreshed the page yet again, expecting more replies.
[Zp81Wc04]: «Cute apartment!»
His smile immediately dropped, his brows furrowing as he stared at the message. His fingers twitched over the keyboard before suddenly slamming against the keys with enough force to make the cheap plastic creak. Upon glancing down, he noticed his T key had shifted, seeming to have popped out of place. He didn't seem to care, ignoring the broken key as he quickly typed out his response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Real original. What, you walking around ouside aking picures of aparment buildings? Congraulations.»
He pressed enter and stared at the page, awaiting a response. After about thirty seconds, he began to furiously type out another response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «I've had better salkers than you.»
No response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «You gonna keep acting myserious or are you gonna say somehing worth reading?»
No response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Go kill yourself, fuck face.»
No response.
[anonymous_lurker]: «Id love to use you in one of my films. Wach yourself next ime you go out.»
No response.
By this point, he was leaning so far over his keyboard it was making his eyes water from the proximity. His jaw clenched as he pressed the refresh button yet again, only to see nothing but his own messages.
“Coward.” He muttered decisively, refreshing the page 5 more times before he seemed accomplished. “Yeah.. that's what I thought.” He said decisively, watching the screen for a moment before he pushed himself away from the computer with an aggressive sigh. “If you're gonna threaten somebody,” he grumbled as he stood, “at least have the balls to finish the conversation.”
Upon pushing the chair back to stand, it knocked into another pile of Tobias’s belongings, making an old microphone stand fall to the ground with a loud thud. Toby hesitated a moment before he turned away, not bothering to check on the object as he walked to the door. He leaned down to check through the peephole, being satisfied by the sight of the yellow wallpaper.
“.. It's fine.” He muttered to himself. That didn't stop him from reaching down and locking the deadbolt, followed by the chain. After he gave the knob an unnecessarily harsh tug, he seemed satisfied enough to finally leave the matter.
Tobias rubbed the back of his neck as he wandered through the narrow pathway carved between mountains of equipment. His shoulder clipped a tripod, nearly sending the whole thing crashing over. He caught it at the last second with an annoyed hiss, stuffing it back into its designated pile before he reached his couch, picking up an empty can left next to his pillow and tossing it aside.
His pull-out couch occupied the opposite side of the apartment, wedged tightly between a shelf of tapes and a crooked television stand that looked like it had survived at least three owners and one house fire. Resting on top was an old box television, its gray plastic casing yellowed with age, a VCR sitting beneath it with a permanent layer of dust over every surface except the buttons Tobias used most.
Rows of homemade tapes were stacked underneath, each labeled in thick black marker. Some titles were dates, some were names, others were inside jokes about the people in the films. He crouched, rifling through them with practiced familiarity.
“No…”
He tossed one onto the couch.
“..Seen that one about a thousand times.”
Another joined it.
“...Too much build up, I need something quick…”
Another… And another .. until his hand eventually settled on a tape with faded handwriting nearly rubbed away from overuse. It was labeled “Theo”. He grinned down. “There you are. Happy anniversary.. Two years old today.” He hummed, putting the discarded tapes back onto the stand before sliding the cassette into the VCR. He collapsed onto the thin mattress of the pull-out couch with a satisfying grunt, his eyes lidded as he laid back, one of his arms tucked beneath his head.
The television buzzed to life before him, filling the apartment with the familiar static hiss before the screen flickered into one of his own productions, his logo followed by the title and date. He loved watching his own work.. No one quite appreciated it as much as he did. He learned from it too. He was his own critique. He loved going through his own productions and thinking about what he could improve on…
Satisfied, he leaned back against the armrest, another soda already in hand as he stared at the women on screen, hiding in a closet from a crazed stalker who had broken into her home in the dark of night. She was pretty, he had to admit. Odd personality, a little bit of a freak sexually, but not at all bad to work with. He had viewed it as an honor to work with her.
Eventually, his shoulders loosened, his heartbeat settled as the thought of that anonymous account faded into the back of his mind as he watched himself on the screen, dawned in a black leather mask with the zipper over the eyes slightly undone so his right eye would be visible. Tomorrow, he could laugh about this whole situation.. he'd find it funny.
He yawned, setting the can down on the floor beside the couch without looking. The can promptly tipped over, warm soda slowly seeping into the stained carpet. Tobias didn't seem to notice as he laid there, listening to the sounds of the women's screaming on the TV. His eyelids grew heavier, before finally he succumbed to his slumber. The television continued humming in front of Tobias as he slept, the screen eventually going blank as the film concluded. Rain continued to beat against the windows, the distant sound of thunder lulling the man to sleep… but not quite deep enough to distract him from the quiet sounds of something closing, almost like a window.
At first, he thought he may have imagined it as part of his dream. He let himself drift off again before the sound of a VHS being slotted made him shift. His eyes cracked open slowly, his head turning slightly to see his full apartment. For a moment, everything was unfocused. The television buzzed quietly, illuminating the apartment in flashes as the seemingly new tape continued to play. He recognizes the male voice at the beginning. It was a man named Daniel, from about half a year ago. He had been an asshole throughout the entirety of his time filming with Tobias. He was thrilled when he was finally able to take him out…
His vision drifted across the cramped room, over the towers of equipment and shelves lined with cases, and then at the TV.. and the figure standing in front of it. He could hear Daniel screaming, and see the quick flash of himself cutting the man's thigh. The scene was obscured by what appeared to be a fairly well put together doctor, with a white coat and blue button down beneath it. His pants didn't show a single wrinkle, and not a hair was out of place.
“You know, I'll give credit where credit is due; you have a real eye for camera positions. I mean, even with unwilling people you can make a scene look natural.” The male said, almost conversationally. Tobias could hear the man's smile without needing to see it. He sounded so happy, chatty even… as if they were discussing the weather, or something happening around their local neighborhood. Not the camera positioning for a glorified snuff film.
But all Tobias heard was a compliment. He swallowed thickly, slowly sitting up as he stammered. “You.. You like it?” He asked, his hands slinking out beneath the blankets, his body tensing as he prepared to lunge at the doctor. If he was just a crazed fan, it would be easy enough to subdue him. Most stalkers weren't exactly the brightest people from Tobias’s experiences.
“Well, ‘like’ is a very strong word. I think it's tacky, really.” The doctor replied, turning his head to look at Tobias. He pointed a gloved hand to the TV, which was focused on a bloodied Tobias wearing his shiny latex mask, covered in blood. “The mask, the box cutter, it's all the same in every video.” The man explained. The light from the TV shined across his face, making him look slightly more intimidating then Tobias imagined he usually would be. He was fair skinned with freckles, and in all honesty, handsome. If it wasn't for his clearly screwed up mental state.
“If you get something more than just enjoyment from killing,” The stranger drawled, waving his hand absentmindedly. “You don't need to film it.” He paused before he seemed to remember something that made him perk up. “Oh, and you definitely get.. something from it.” He said with a shit-eating grin, one that made Tobias instantly feel a surge of rage. “I'd hate to have to stare at the evidence of your.. lust for half an hour before you finally put me away.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, you goddamn—”
Before he could act on his newly found anger, he was knocked backwards by the slender man tackling him back flat onto the pull-out couch. Toby let out a snarl of rage, his hands flying up to push against the figure's chest as he straddled his lap, reaching down to grab Tobias by the jaw, forcing him down flat onto the flattened plush of the couch.
“Just lay back, all the pain will go away soon.” The doctor promised, his free hand suddenly lurching forward for Toby's neck. Something metallic glinted in his hand, which alarmed Tobias enough to make his arm on Tanner's chest to shift, grabbing the male's wrist instead. Clutched there was a white needle, filled with some clear liquid to the final fill line.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!—” Tobias gasped, letting out a pained grunt as Tanner's hand crushed his jaw painfully, twisting his head slightly before releasing him, sitting back on his hunches with the needle held up in his right hand.
“I saw you do something similar once in one of your films.” Tanner said gleefully, raising a brow in an almost playful manner. “What's the matter? Don't like your own tricks?”
“Just not a fan of needles. Doctors always scared me.” Tobias hissed before he threw himself upwards, his hands clamping around Tanner's throat. He twisted until he managed to flip the two, leaving Tanner beneath him sprawled out awkwardly. He grinned at the freckled face below him and the shocked expression it wore. “You picked the wrong fucking apartment. Who are you?”
He squeezed the man's throat slowly as he threatened the man, his face slowly twisting into a grin. Tanner simply stared up at him before he smiled a little. “Oh, I'm Tanner.” He stated simply before he wretched his right hand free, stabbing Tobias in the shoulder. The pain made Toby yelp before his head snapped down, staring at where the needle was snugly buried. Tanner decompressed the plunger, his face twisting with glee.
“Ah, I can see why you always tie them up. You're not very smart when it comes to hand-to-hand, are you?” Tanner asked when Toby's hands loosened their grip on his throat, the man trying to shift off of Tanner. His limbs suddenly felt much heavier than they had a few seconds ago, however.
“What.. what the fuck was in that..?”
“Oh, midazolam. You'll be fine.”
Tobias let out a startled grunt, reaching for the needle and ripping it from his shoulder, shuddering before he threw the object across the room. “How.. How much?” He demanded, his eyes twitching as he fought against the drug. His question was met with Tanner's sheepish grin as he looked towards where the needle was thrown. “Well.. I'm no master chemist.” He began, not looking bothered as he continued. “And while it's generally quite useful when handled properly, I wouldn't exactly recommend being careless with it.”
Toby stared down at Tanner, his brows furrowed. His hands moved to settle next to Tanner's head, mostly so he could hear him better. Everything was beginning to feel harder and harder, even just looking at the man and understanding his taunts. “.. Are you.. Shit, you're going to kill me..”
“That's a rather dramatic conclusion.” He reached out and gently caught Tobias by the shoulder before he could topple completely on top of him, holding him up as he tilted his head. “Although.. I suppose you haven't exactly made a habit of treating other people's lives with much consideration."
Tobias glared at him through increasingly heavy eyelids, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mumbled. “What the hell did I ever do to you..?”
Tanner chuckled as he used his other hand to assist in holding Tobias up above him. “You spend your evenings deciding what happens to other people, and yet the moment somebody else makes a decision about you, suddenly it's terrifying.” He chuckled, watching Tobias as he merely stared dumbly down at him. He looked like he had something he wanted to say, but didn't seem able to get the exact words out. He opened his mouth to talk, but just made a weak, unintelligible sound in response.
Tobias blinked hard as he tried to focus, swallowing as he noticed how dry his throat suddenly felt. He attempted to push himself upright once he realized with a jolt he was still straddling Tanner. His arms trembled beneath him, but nothing happened. He tried again, putting more weight into his hands. His elbows immediately buckled, leaning to him lurching forward and faceplanting against Tanner's chest.
“Oof—can’t you just lay down?” Tanner requested at being slightly winded, which only earned a grunt of frustration as Tobias shoved at Tanner's chest. The movement barely displaced him. His fingers curled weakly into the fabric of the lab coat instead, his grip lacking the strength he'd had only moments ago.
“Let.. Go.” The words were slurred, and barely audible. Tanner just looked down at him, his brow raising. “I'm not holding you. This is all you.” Tanner looked down at the hand gripping his coat, reaching up and grabbing it to pull it away. Toby didn't seem to care, he was more focused on how his eyelids were becoming impossibly heavy. It was weird- this was the most tired he had felt in a long time. He wondered if that would mean he would sleep better than he had for weeks…
He displaced the thought as he shifted again, desperately attempting to crawl off of Tanner and onto the other side of the couch. His knee dragged against the mattress, but his leg refused to cooperate properly. He managed to move perhaps an inch before his strength gave out entirely. His chest fell against Tanner, and he finally seemed to give up, his body finally going slack.
“I really wouldn't bother.” Tanner said conversationally before he sighed, staring down at Toby's limp body for a moment. “You know, I was expecting a little more resistance. You have quite the reputation online, don't you?" He asked, clearly not expecting any answer, as he continued without pause. “All those films. All those people you've frightened. All those things you apparently enjoy doing." Tanner's fingers idly tapped against Tobias's back. "And yet here you are."
Tanner looks down at him again before he looked up to the ceiling. "You should probably get some rest. I can feel your hand still moving.” He said, his hand sliding down to grab one of Toby's , which was still kneading against the couch. Tobias's breathing slowly became slow and even, his hand eventually going still.
"Don't worry." Tanner's voice was the last thing that remained clear in his mind as he mumbled. "I'll take good care of you."
The man waited a few minutes, just in case anything would change. Toby stayed quiet, seeming to be completely taken by the drug. He slowly sighed. "Well." He looked around the cramped apartment, then toward the television.. Then down at the unconscious man sprawled across him. "I suppose introductions will have to wait until tomorrow."