Chapter Text
Robbie couldn’t breathe, hopelessly trying to get air in his lungs as he ran blindly from the mess he left behind. He felt like he was going to be sick and not just because this was more exercise than he’d had in months. Scrambling up the dirt road to his lair his foot slipped off the rung of the ladder making him smash his face into the hatch. He pried it open desperately as wet tears fell onto the metal.
He didn’t remember the trip down, instead he found himself suddenly in the corner behind his costume tubes with his long arms curled up over his head and his face buried in his knees. He couldn’t think as his brain pounded into his skull, he just wanted it to be dark, everything was so bright and hot and his lungs burned and he was sorry, okay? He was SORRY!
The room went black as a little fae magic leaked out and finally the hitch in his throat became too much and he let out a deep sob, tears spilling over even faster than before. The cake in his stomach was nauseating now and he bit his knuckle as his brain kept painting red over his darkened sight, wailing like a ghost.
He shook at what most certainly would be burned into his eyelids forever, the little limp hands, the way red looks on pink and smeared into blue…
Robbie turned over and vomited into the bucket with the upside down frowny face on it. Then he did it again. It was almost as sweet coming back up and he hated every second of it, pushing the bucket away as he pressed his forehead onto the cold grate metal of the floor as a scream rose up out of his throat to follow the sick.
He hadn’t meant it! He really hadn’t, not in a million years had he thought it’d go this south so quickly. It’d just been, it was just a scheme! He did one every week, it’d just been play with these kids, the crazy contraptions, the, the costumes! He never actually wanted anyone to get…
A fist slammed onto the grate, making it shake slightly as he tried to stave off the thought of, the idea that something he’d done could be so permanent now. The stupid pink girl, she wasn’t meant to climb on it, the thing was meant to turn those disgusting apples into inedible compost not people into - he grabbed at the bucket again, nothing coming up but sour bile.
Growls turned to whimpers in his throat and he couldn’t be anything but mad at himself. The way Sportacus had looked at him, the helplessness, the sickness in his gullet, the screams, all that red… He gagged again but swallowed it down. The way the blue elf had gripped onto Stephanie, Robbie was sure he would’ve bruised her and it made him want to take her from him but he knew she wouldn’t feel it, she wouldn’t see the way the two stared each other down, the way it all hung in the air like a disgusting fog, impossible to breathe, to speak, God, he wanted to die.
And then there was light, soft, and he could see it behind his eyelids, filling the headache that danced in his head like wooden shoes. He felt fear creep down his back, wondering if someone had come for him now, come to take him away from his hole in the ground and put him in a new one, an inescapable one.
What have you done here, Glanni? A small voice twinkled in his ear, or in his mind, Made a real mess of your little realm.
“I know,” he moaned, his voice rough and low from the bile burning him, “I’m sorry!” He begged as it turned to a wail.
Don’t apologize to me, you old fool, it giggled, you have so much more to atone for than this. I just want to help… But do you even want my help…?
“Please!” He sat up sharply and felt queasy again, eyes opening with a flash as he sat in pure darkness. “I’ll do anything, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-!”
Shut up!
His voice died in his throat as he stared blindly into the black room.
You’ve had it good in this little town, off the books, off the grid. You’ve sat this little throne so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like in the mud with the rest of us, haven’t you Glanni? You stupid old man with your stupid toys.
A loud banging began ringing from above, Sportacus shouting as he throttled the locked hatch that led inside. Robbie blessed the foresight he had when he’d lost all sense of himself despite the flickerings of fear to what the man would do to him when he got his hands on him.
And look what you’ve made of Íþróttaálfurinn, a fool like you who’s forgotten his way! A superhero by no account, and yet here he is playing your games with a smile on his face. I guess he isn’t smiling anymore.
The statement was punctuated by the twisting of metal and Robbie scrambled farther back into the corner, praying that the darkness would be enough to shield him from the elf’s eyes as the thrum of metal pipes got closer, falling down, down into the earth towards the lair.
If I fix this I want something in return… The voice whispered in his ear, uncomfortably close as he felt a shiver tingle his neck, the heady sensation of magic clinging to the air.
“A-Anything!” He whispered, “just please, bring them back…”
“Þú helvítis skúrkur!” Sportacus screamed, forgetting himself as he attempted to tear a sheet of metal from the wall to find a way in, Robbie burying his face in his hands.
Give this world to me and I will restore it to its former glory. Before you sullied it with your pathetic hands.
“Deal!” Robbie choked out before the voice had even finished, childish laughter filling the air in victory as he felt the grate begin to tremble with Sportacus’ steps, his shirtfront bundling in strong bloodied fists, hefting him to his feet just as everything faded away...