Chapter Text
London is a rather odd place, Jon thought.
No forms appeared when you were looking for food in the fridge, nor was there any secret police to watch you all the time.
Also, they had a dog park you could acknowledge, and even enter.
Strange place indeed.
The dress code at the most work places was plain and boring, almost resembling a Desert Bluffs outfit. He prayed that London was not like that blasted city, and he has yet to see any blood on the walls or people gutting other people and calling it "decorating", but he can never be too sure about it. He's been tricked by that bloody city before.
Jon walked out of his apartment, dressed in his horribly boring suit, with long sleeves that covered all the eyes scattered on his body and his tattoos, who have been less than eager to stay off his hands, but apparently sentient tattoos were not usual outside of Night Vale. Which is yet another strange thing with this place.
He missed Night Vale. London was an awfully boring place where the secret police, or rather the "Sectioned cops" are kept away from the public, where the supernatural is kept under wraps as if the Fears didn't go rampant through the world. Such an awful and boring place, truly. Perhaps his dad was right and he should've stayed in Night Vale. But Annie asked him a favor, and he couldn't refuse, if she only had told him that he'd need to work with a Librarian, well, that would've been a nice warning.
He walked through the doors of the Institute exactly 20 minutes early. Not early nor late. He knew the routine. Get here too late and you risk entering at the same time as a librarian. Get in too late and you have to pass said creatures. Therefore Jon could not afford any mistake.
Not like he didn't Know that the Librarians outside of Night Vale were normal people who happened to work in places of knowledge, just as he worked in a place of knowledge, but that didn't mean he wanted to get comfortable passing libraries and librarians. Getting comfortable outside of Night Vale to do something is how you get killed. It was how Kelly got killed. She got far too friendly with dog parks and being able to talk, think and acknowledge them.
So he's not going to risk it. Especially not in a place like the Institute.
The Institute has secrets. Many secrets. He Knows that, he can feel it, the same way he used to feel it when the Desert Bluffs came into town with their cheerful smiles that looked far more creepy when you knew that their definition of "decorating".
Not like the eye gouging boss you have now is any better his mind supplies and Jon smiles at Beholding's dry remark. For a Fear, it is awfully funny sometimes.
Jonah Magnus is checking on you. Beholding says and Jon lets forward a memory of his dad telling him a bedtime story. He tries to alter it enough so that his dad is holding up puppets with his hands,not with his hundreds od tentacles that live on his skin.
It seems to work because Beholding doesn't tell him that Elias didn't buy it.
The archives are perhaps the best part of the Institute. They are dark and gloomy, and the Eye's gaze follows you wherever you go. They are no replacement for the radios back home, but they are certainly a nice substitute.
If he could only watch everything like he used to do back home without consequences, he'd watch all the libraries and librarians in this place. Martin especially.
Jon thought Martin to be perhaps the only actually scary thing in the entire building. He can understand cultural differences, Daniel has told him insane stories about clocks being machines and not mechanical creatures that spontaneously grow teeth and that no house looks like it exists, should exist, and yet it does not. And from what he's seen, Martin does not possess any usual trait of a Librarian. But a Librarian is a Librarian and as much as those things are not that dangerous for him, he'd rather not risk Tim or Sasha's safety around one of those creatures.
Perhaps he should call Tamika to ask her about ways of keeping ex Librarians happy. Though she most likely doesn't know, as there are no ex Librarians in Night Vale.
He entered his office and looked around the room. Something has been in the room while he was gone and snooped through. He was certain of that. Oh, how exhilarating!
On his desk there's a note written in spider blood. It seemed to make no sense, so Jon folded it into an origami swan and it started to sing in a monotone mouse squeak.
The note said "Johnny, papa is mad at me for transforming Donovan of the Desert Bluffs into a pink Chihuahua who spits out Bible verses. How can I tell him that Donovan doesn't mind being a Chihuahua. And that the Bible verses thing is because he ate a book? Ps: Daniel, you know, the town babysitter, told me to tell you that Annie is coming over today to talk to you about the plan.
~Este"
Oh well, if Annie is insisting. He supposes he could go to lunch with her and talk. If the library happens to be on break.
Tim popped his head through the door, his face pale, almost shaking.
"Hey, boss, there's a… Jane Prentiss is here looking for you." He said.
Jon looked at him. Well, it seemed today won't be boring at least, as the past few days have been.
Jane Prentiss. Jon has met her once or twice, years ago, or centuries, or perhaps he has yet to meet her, after all time is quite complex in Night Vale, especially since his father has proved that time isn't real.
She and her army of flesh eating worms were quite the event back home.
"Miss Prentiss." He greeted. He tried to keep his tone from showing how excited he was to finally meet the famous Jane Prentiss perhaps for the first time, perhaps for the second or third time.
"Archivist." She said. "What is this?" She asked, slamming down a piece of paper on the table.
Jon looked it over. Ah, of course.
"It is a "holding a hostage" form. Next time you want to take one of my colleagues hostage, I would appreciate it if you followed the protocol and filled out this form before kidnapping slash holding them hostage." He said.
"I - what?"
Jon was playing with one of Jane's worms, half listening, half humming the Night Vale current weather. Sunny with a chance for frog rain. Far better than the perpetual sunny sky Britain seemed to dawn these past few days. He was promised gloominess and even rain. But these days this country looked like Desert Bluffs.
"As much as I do not like Martin, there are still protocols in place, so I'd appreciate it if you followed them. I thought the British were supposed to be more polite than this. So you should know about the forms you need to fill out in order to kidnap someone or to hold them hostage." Jon said. "Now, please leave, unless you'd like to give my superiors a form informing them of my kidnapping or any other malevolent intent you have with me that would require adequate paperwork."
Jane looked at him for a few seconds, then left slowly backwards while still facing him until she reached the door at which point she turned around and bolted out of the room, which Jon thought to be quite weird, since she has yet to fill out the form and submitted unfilled forms is rather rude.
Maybe she was just processing something. Probably the fact that she forgot to file the hostage holding forms. Jon couldn't blame her. Sometimes people are forgetful. But that doesn't mean that she can just ignore the proper protocol for kidnappings.