#i tried to get a clearer image but the fire effect looks Really Fake so eh this is funnier

[eldritch-composer]

got a new heater and sat josh on top of it. then inspiration struck.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 15/?

Part 14

I suppose it was clever of you, to send this one specifically. I have never been too fond of his kind. Too... volatile, if you'll excuse the little joke.

But I'll move on. I'm a grown woman, and I know perfectly well when I've lost a battle. It isn't even that big of a tangle in the grand scheme of things, now that I think about it.

And see, that's exactly what I wanted to talk about, Jon. How would you say it?

Statement of Anabelle Cane, regarding inevitability.

XV

"So... where did you find her?" Tim asks, as he walks around a corner. It opens to a long corridor, with tasteful hardwood floors and sensible faded ochre walls. There's a little table by the wall anywhere between five and a hundred steps in, right below a mirror that's usually round, but sometimes is triangular or square. Right now it's eight-sided, and Tim looks into it to fix his hair- and his face. The latter melts a little if he's not paying attention, but is easy enough to mold back into shape.

"Roaming the tunnels. She was a bit lost. Everyone is, down there." Helen's voice echoes all around him, and his headache gets the slightest bit worse. There's no telling how long he's been here for, but at least in her corridors he can pretend the confusion is only a side effect of Helen around him.

"So you thought it would be a good idea to make her into dinner." There's a single cobweb stretched between the little table's legs, and Tim presses a finger to it like he's done to the others, watching it curl and shrivel as it chars to nothing. "Or were you actually trying to get her out and throw her at us?"

"Burn a couple more of those, and I might be able to tell you." Helen's voice is clearer now. Bitter. Tim nods grimly.

"I'm going to need you to let me out somewhere else."

"Better if you don't say the name, I think." Helen sighs. "Keep walking."

So Tim does. There's still plenty to be confused about. The Desolation rages inside him, feeding from the raw loss burning a hole through his chest

Sasha's dead.

No, he corrects himself. She's been dead for a while now, years. The thing Jon killed was just that; a monster, no matter how many times Tim called it Sasha's name. No matter how many times Tim found himself loving it.

The fire at his core burns a bit hotter.

He keeps trying to tell himself he was loving the memory of Sasha and not the beast, but is there really any memory left of her? Logically speaking -ugh, he sounds like Jon-, he knows there have to be. He knew Sasha -loved Sasha- long before the table came, but when he tries to conjure them, all he sees is the long-limbed thing, the ghost of its touch on Tim's skin sending shocks of nausea through his stomach.

"If you're going to puke, please wait until I let you out."

"Feeling vindictive, aren't we?" Tim composes a smirk even as he takes a deep breath to fend the nausea off, leaning heavily against the little table. His reflection on the half moon-shaped mirror looks decrepit with exhaustion.

"Aren't you?" Helen asks, and Tim's knuckles whiten around the table's edges.

There was a spiderweb on that table, and there's another on Jon's lighter.

"You have no idea."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Calling the fog is easier now.

Tim hasn't been home in a while, and Gerry hasn't sought him out either after he lashed out at him. Which is... what he wanted, he supposes.

It's much better to work like this, now that even Peter has opted for leaving him alone. Without interruptions, without the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Lately, he has started to suspect even the Eye's gaze slips off of him at times.

It makes him wonder if Jon can still See him. If he even tries anymore.

There's probably no answer to that question that could make him feel... something, not anymore. Martin shakes his head, hoping to dislodge the thought and go back to his work. There's things to do, including a new statement to record that Peter must've slipped in before he arrived. He's getting close to being done with this, at least.

Will there be anything left of him once he doesn't need to be lonely?

Will there be anyone left who cares?

All he can see when he tries to look into his future is the comforting, cool embrace of the fog. It's not a surprise, not really. Fear has ever been a constant in Martin's life.

A tape recorder clicks to life by his elbow, and Martin sighs. "Yes, alright. I'll just... Martin Blackwood, assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute. Recording statement... what is it? 0131305..."

The feeling is... odd, he decides after he goes through Judith O'Neill's statement barely giving the words a thought, as fast as he can without mangling it, because the sound of his own voice is grating to his ears.

"It's... I know I should feel guilty, you know?" he asks the tape recorder, resting his chin on his hand. "I mean, this is this person's worst moment, that she trusted us with, to preserve and protect. And- and I'm just trying to get it over with."

Click. Martin feels his lips curl into a small smile. Who knew he could still do that?

"Yes, I guess so. But it still doesn't feel like I'm doing enough. Not that it ever has, but still..." He sighs.

It doesn't really matter, does it? All Jon and Gerry need is the information, not his thoughts on it, not his- just the facts. That's what they want, and- and since he finished this quickly enough, he should be able to sneak down into the Archives and drop the tape at his old desk before Gerry can try to come get it.

He doesn't have to see the hurt on his face when he sends him away again.

The door to the office closes silently behind him as he steps into the corridor to start the way down to the Archives, and he's immediately assaulted with the pressing sensation of other people's existence. Martin doesn't quite Know about every person in the Institute, but he can feel their presence like one would feel the heat from standing too close to a fire; a warning to get away, before you end up burned. Luckily for everyone, life in the Institute seems to be contained at the upper levels, the building completely silent once he reaches the bottom floor.

The old break room calls to him like a siren at sea, but Martin ignores it. There's nothing for him there anymore, other than a brightly painted mug pushed to the back of the cupboard to be forgotten, like the painful memory of the times when there were no fears of monsters, and the biggest worry in Martin's mind was a fake resume.

This is why he hates coming down here, he thinks with a sigh. It's just... logically, he knows they were never going to stay that way, planning birthday parties and getting to know each other, the little Archive team. He knows they were doomed the moment they signed their transfer to their new department. But still... Better times, less complicated, and- there's a woman there.

More importantly, a woman he doesn't recognize. She's tall and dark skinned, with tightly curled hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head, her sharp, deep brown eyes examining what Martin recognizes with a muted sense of alarm as a scorch mark shaped like footsteps on the polished hardwood floor.

"Excuse me? You can't be here." Martin says after a deep breath. The tape recorder in his hand clicks on again; great, now Jon is going to hear him chasing away his meal. "Did you come to give a statement? I'm afraid we're not taking new ones at the moment."

There's a pang of nausea at the lie, but Martin ignores it. If he can keep one more person from tangling in with this-

"I gave it a while ago. Haven't been too afraid ever since." The woman shrugs after turning to face him. She's wearing a black tank top with a stylized ghost on it, that Martin would once have smiled at. "I'm only waiting for Melanie. You're Martin?"

He blinks. "You... know me?"

The woman's lips twitch. "Jon talked a lot about you while he was staying at my house."

Martin frowns in confusion, until it all clicks in his mind. The ghost, the statement, Melanie, Jon. The fact that he couldn't feel her at all before practically running into her.

"Huh. I- I didn't know Melanie-Georgie and Jon-Georgie were the same person." Martin feels the air around him cool a little more when he gives her a second, evaluating look. She's beautiful, and she looks confident and calm even in this place of terror. Jon... Jon really has a type, Martin thinks as his mind conjures the image of a pair of blue-green eyes glaring up at Peter in defiance.

"Small world and all that." Georgie shrugs. She frowns then, after she gives him a once-over of her own and apparently finds him lacking. Which is... not ideal, probably, but Martin can't bring himself to care. "Are you alright?"

"I am. Thank you." Martin looks away, because her eyes are nothing like Jon's asides from being a similar dark brown in color, but Martin finds himself thinking of them anyways. "Could I ask you to let Jon know I left this here? Or- or Gerry. He'll do too."

He can feel Georgie's eyes on him for another, unbearably long minute, before she speaks again. "Why don't you tell them yourself?"

"I'm- we're not really... talking. Not anymore." He's aware he doesn't owe her an explanation, but it's... why lie to a stranger, specially one that doesn't care?

"Ah." Georgie's gaze falls for a moment, before she lifts it back to Martin's face. "Could I ask why? Jon speaks very well of you. And from what Melanie tells me-"

"Actually, I'd rather you didn't." Martin cuts in. There's a pang of irritation at his stomach, and he feels the Lonely receding just the slightest bit. Not good, not- "With all due respect, it's none of your business, or Melanie's. Or anyone's, really."

Georgie's eyebrows climb up her forehead. "Wow. Okay. I'm sorry, I suppose. I just thought-"

"You don't know me." Martin says it more for himself than for her. She doesn't know him, and she'll forget him the moment he walks away. The so-called "concern" in her voice is just that, a misguided attempt motivated by-

"Well no, but Jon cares for you." She shrugs.

"Jon cares too much, that's the problem." Didn't he hear Tim complain about that years ago, angry and drunk against Jon's desk with Melanie slumped on his side in a similar state? Jon doesn't care until he does, and then you can't tell which one is worse.

Georgie's eyes are still digging into him, so intense Martin has to remind himself she has nothing to do with the Watcher.

"I think it usually ends worse for the ones that care for Jon, actually." And she arches an eyebrow in a gesture Martin has seen Jon made countless times. It's funny, how people pick up traits from the ones they love. He wonders which one of them had the gesture originally, and which one took it in and made it their own.

Has he picked up anything from Jon? The way he pushes his glasses up his nose, or holds his cup of tea? It's... that would be nice, he thinks. That even when he goes into the Lonely, when he's no longer capable of loving Jon -if he still is-, there will be a part of him that remains.

He also wonders if Jon has picked up anything from him, but the thought is cold and faded. Martin has always been on the sidelines, easy enough to forget once you get him out of your way. What would Jon even take?

"-tin?" Georgie's voice reaches him faintly, distorted.

"Maybe." There's a strange echo to his own words, and he can see the wisps of fog curling around him. "But it's good that people care for him anyways."

"What-"

"It's nice to know he won't be alone."

Georgie takes a step towards him, but stops short a second after, as her eyes glaze over for a beat. Her brow furrows in confusion, and she looks around the bullpen, her gaze sliding off of Martin.

"Okay, I'm ready, sorry I- Georgie?" Melanie asks as she comes into the room, frowning when Georgie continues to look around the office. "What's wrong?"

"I... nothing, I guess." Georgie's eyes are still confused. "I just- I could swear I was talking to someone."

Melanie gives the room a once-over of her own and Martin holds his breath, but she doesn't notice him either. Good.

"Huh." Melanie hums in thought for a moment, before her eyes turn mischievous and her lips curl into a grin. "Maybe it was a g-g-g-ghost? I know a pretty girl that does a podcast about that, you should tell her the story."

Georgie huffs a chuckle then, her encounter with Martin already forgotten. "I think I know the one. With the cute girlfriend, right?"

"That's her. Bad taste in food and men, amazing taste in women." Melanie hooks her arm through Georgie's, a pleased, slightly flushed smile on her face as she pulls Georgie towards the door. "Let's go?"

"I- hm. I think I was supposed to tell Jon something." Georgie hesitates a little at the threshold, and Martin's heart skips a bit.

"Ugh, just text him. You'll make his day."

"Don't be mean." Georgie smiles.

"I can live with you on his side or with Gerry on his side, please don't ask me to do both, I'm not strong enough."

Georgie laughs, the sound growing fainter as the door closes and they walk away, leaving Martin behind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim stumbles out the door, his head protesting as his body tries to adjust to the change in perspective, which is most definitely not aided by him immediately rolling down half a flight of stairs.

"Would it have killed you to find a something at floor level instead?" Tim grumbles, rubbing at his bruised shin.

"If you find one that's not sealed, feel free to let me know." Helen says dryly, pulling her door closed as Tim glares up at her. "Good luck, dear!"

Tim rolls his eyes, and when he's focused them on the door again it's back to being an old, dusty window through which he can just barely see the street below.

Fine. This is amazing.

A single thread of spider silk pulls at his elbow, and Tim huffs a dry, humorless cackle.

"Done with subtlety, aren't you?" The thread is trying to tug him upstairs, so Tim burns it off before starting in the opposite way.

He can feel the Web trying to wrap itself around him, to obscure his mind and concern him with matters that will take him out of here. Where is Martin? Is he alright? What if he was in Helen's corridors for so long that everyone's gone?

Tim chuckles at the thought as he comes to a stop before a door sealed shut with cobwebs.

Who else could he lose? Sasha's dead, and so is the thing that tricked him into loving it. Danny's gone, his death successfully -but so unsatisfactorily- avenged. Martin continues to slip through his fingers no matter how much he tries, and-

"Just spit it out." Tim freezes when he recognizes his voice, static-y and grainy with the whirr of a tape recorder as background.

"You're not planning on coming back." Jon's voice has the finality of a goodbye, and Tim realizes abruptly that he remembers this conversation. He didn't realize it was being recorded at the time, or he wouldn't sound nearly as put together.

Tim-on-tape laughs, so ugly, so angry that Tim-in-the-flesh flinches.

"That's rich. Do you care now? That's called guilt, Boss"

"Tim-"

"Don't. Stew on it, for all I care. You deserve it."

A sigh, long and tired, before a weak, broken voice.

"I'm so sorry, Tim..."

Tim lets out a sigh of his own, mouthing his next word.

"Good."

Steps crunching on gravel, as Tim walks back into the cheap motel and leaves Jon alone with his thoughts.

It's no wonder the Desolation chose him, all that burning anger boiling just under his skin, the taste of ash on his tongue, the finger pressed down on the trigger to call on destruction like a well-trained dog. So convinced that Jon, who he'd loved so much and who cast him aside without so much as an explanation, was the cause of all his anger. So eager to make him suffer just the same.

"Is that really all you got?!" he shouts out, and his breath comes out in puffs of steam that leave Tim's nostrils burning with the scent of guilt. "Mistress of manipulation, and all you have for me is 'you were angry and a douche'? Because guess what? I still am!"

His hand burns its imprint all the way down to the wood, as the cobwebs shrivel away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I suppose it was clever of you, to send this one specifically. I have never been too fond of his kind. Too... volatile, if you'll excuse the little joke.

But I'll move on. I'm a grown woman, and I know perfectly well when I've lost a battle. It isn't even that big of a tangle in the grand scheme of things, now that I think about it.

And see, that's exactly what I wanted to talk about, Jon. How would you say it?

Statement of Anabelle Cane, regarding inevitability.

Was that good? Did it do something for you?

See, I'm ever so good to you, dear. I know you're on a little 'diet', but one fresh statement can't be too much, can it? Just a single taste, you've been behaving so properly for your team...

But I've strayed from my point again. I do that sometimes, you know? It's a bit hard to focus on a single thing, when everything is so intricately connected! Try following a thread in the weave of a tapestry, see how long it takes you to lose track of it in the big, beautiful picture.

No, what I wanted to talk about, how did I put it? Inevitability?

You're familiar with that, aren't you, Jon? How running and running away only ever brings you back to where you're supposed to be.

I learned of it the first time I ran away from my family home. I had all these grandiose dreams, coming back artfully smeared in dirt, perhaps with a nasty-looking, but perfectly applied gash to my arm or leg, and I would never have to ask for anything again. I would be Anabelle, lost and returned, the greatest treasure my family could ask for.

The house already danced to the beat I drummed, but I wanted more. I wanted things to go my way before I even had to orchestrate them. I wanted things to land on my web, and strangle themselves to death trying to pull themselves out.

It was a good plan, for a nine years old.

I could tell you about the woman, I suppose. Young, and emaciated and lost, weaving herself into a tapestry she could not see, so desperate to feel something that she didn't notice when the syringes began overflowing with many-legged things that scurried and ran through her veins much more effective in soothing her pain and fear than the heroin ever was.

I could tell you how I ran. How I climbed back up my window before my older sister even noticed I was ever missing. How I shook that sleepless night, seeing crawling shadows everywhere, feeling the pinprick of their legs on my skin. I thought the woman was a demon that was sent to scare me into being a nice little girl, to correct me from the nasty schemes I orchestrated to get others in trouble.

You would know, wouldn't you, Jon? The incredible lengths to which a child's mind can go to try and rationalize an encounter like ours.

And it worked, I suppose. For years, I stopped manipulating, I stopped weaving. The urge was still there, and the ability of course. It was almost as though I could see the threads connecting every occurrence with the outcome I wanted, just waiting for me to pull on it the right way. But I didn't. I had seen my punishment, and I would be good, I told myself.

Didn't you do something similar, when you found my little book? You were adorable.

But you see, even though we both tried to run, to break free of the path we were meant to take, we both ended up exactly where we were needed. Don't hate me too much for pulling your strings, dear, just remember there's a bigger puppeteer out there.

And please, don't take this as some sort of grim reminder -everything is always grim with you, isn't it Jon?- that free will is a lie, and we are all just chess pieces moving across a board. That is not what I mean at all!

Free will is a beautiful thing, and so satisfying to have. You specifically have a will of iron, Jon, and that is a high compliment, coming from me. The twists and turns I've had to send you in just make sure you had what you needed to survive! And all just because you were too stubborn to take the path the Eye set for you.

But that is exactly what the beauty of an ineluctable plan is, just to come back to the original subject of my statement. Knowing that your every movement, your every choice is already factored in the grand scheme of things. I find it soothing, don't you? Knowing that no matter how far you stray from the path, you cannot truly ruin anything.

Look at your dear friend. An unwanted variable in my plan for sure, but apparently not to the Mother's one, since I ended up talking to you after all. Perhaps a little earlier or later than I originally should have, but things worked out in the end. They always do.

Perhaps all the players must, at some point, take a look around, and see if they're not standing on a checkered board themselves. I can think of some people specifically, but it wouldn't do to ruin the surprise.

Now, how do you close these things? Your charming little catchphrase… ah, of course.

Statement ends.

"I- you found this?" Jon's voice is a bit shaky as he finally looks up from the paper, and the tape recorder clicks to a stop on its own. "Were you looking for it?"

Tim shrugs. "Not really."

"But then- Tim, why were you at Hill-"

"It's none of your business, alright?" Tim rolls his eyes. "Maybe I just decided I really fucking hate spiders."

After listening to that, he definitely does.

Jon's arachnophobia has never been a secret, but he guesses it makes a lot more sense now. A lot of things do.

He doesn't like any of them.

"Tim-"

"I'm going to leave now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tim said you were full of spiderwebs." Jon's voice is calm, quiet.

Helen tilts her head. "Aren't we all?" She asks. It's not in her nature to give straight answers.

"I'm starting to think so." Jon gives a sigh.

It's a fun little tableau they make, each on one side of the desk, between them a tape recorder with a bit of tape still left, a sheet of paper next to it.

"This is how we met," Helen hums thoughtfully. There is no map on the paper, and the statement in the recorder is not hers -about her-, but it still feels painfully, exquisitely familiar. "Back when we were both human."

Jon lets out a little huff of air, like her words are somehow a surprise for him, who could Know it all. "Do you remember how that felt like?"

Helen smiles, feeling her lips curl in on themselves dozens of times. "Do you?"

"A little, at times." Jon lays a hand on the desk, and Helen sees the recorder practically click on and vibrate with the need to go to him. Funny little things. "More, lately. I... having everyone helps."

"That doesn't bode too well for Martin."

"I- it doesn't. But I'm- I wonder if you'd be this far gone, if I hadn't turned you away when you first came to me."

Helen tilts her head, when Jon's eyes fix on her. They don't have the lovely green glow they take when he uses his powers, and they look... sad.

It's not an emotion the Distortion knows how to deal with, because the Distortion shouldn't be dealing with feelings anyways. It's even more puzzling to have it aimed at her.

The part of her that is still Helen -is that all of her? Is that any of her?- feels a pang of grim satisfaction. "Is that what this is, then? Making amends?"

Jon shakes his head slowly, sadly. How can a man exude so much melancholy? Is that what happens, when you care so much?

"Not really. I- we were always going to change, I think. Our only choice is how we do it." He pushes the tape recorder towards her, with a tired smile. "I hear you collect them?"

"Only until it's time." Still, Helen cradles the recorder in her hands. Such a curious thing.

"Time for what?"

"I don't know." Helen shrugs at an angle that should not be quite possible for shoulder joints to give. "Doesn't it frustrate you, Jon?"

He gives a little, choked up laugh. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"All these rules about what should and shouldn't be done. We are power. Why should we be contained?"

Why should they?

Why should they strive to stay human, when that's the very thing that was ripped from them? Why-

"I think... Because I want to be contained." Jon gives his desk a little thoughtful frown, before looking up at her again. "If I'm going to be a monster, I'm going to be one in my own terms."

"How noble of you." Helen arches an eyebrow, and Jon's lips twitch into the ghost of a smile.

"Selfish, really. It's the only thing I have left."

"Didn't she say it wouldn't matter, in the end?" Helen lifts the tape recorder to tuck it in the pocket of her blazer. "The grand scheme of things, and all that?"

"It matters to me."

"So you'll spend the entire journey there being miserable, just for the sake of some moral high ground?"

Jon shakes his head, his lips moving around words he can't quite put together. It's almost a bad joke, the Archivist, tongue-tied.

"If I weren't miserable in this situation, I wouldn't be Jon." He says in the end. "I- maybe the Spider dropped me gift-wrapped at the Eye's front door, yes. But it can't take that from me. It can't take who I am."

"Bit boring, isn't it? Not changing at all, ever?"

"...Yes, I suppose you of all people might find it so."

"Can I still keep the tape?" she asks, clicking the stop button to make the funny little thing sleep again.

Jon sighs. "It's yours."

Helen smiles. "Just until it's time. Cheers, Jon, good luck on your moral crusade."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corruption statements always leave behind a stale, sickly aftertaste. It's not too surprising really, but lately Jon has started to dislike them even more.

It's the way this entity tries to disguise itself as love, as the natural progression of devotion into indiscriminate consumption, parasitism, destruction.

Everything that love isn't supposed to be, everything that-

The Eye pulls urgently at his mind, and Jon is dragged out of his reverie by the sudden Knowledge of sharp blades and singing blood.

Jon sighs, before diving into his desk drawer to pull out his mobile.

"Yeah, I think, um-" the door to his office opens and closes behind him, and Jon's heart races as he tries to force the next words out. "I think you should probably get down h-"

The phone is yanked from his hand, and Jon vaguely registers the sound of the call clicking to an end, far more focused on the edge of the knife that comes to rest against his throat. Right over Daisy's scar, like it's one of those 'cut here' lines, and the thought is much funnier than it should be.

"Hello, lad." Trevor Herbert's breath is musty and bitter, and Jon sighs. This is fine, this is- all he needs is for one of them to get distracted. He broke Breekon before, and Not Sasha too. This is his home terrain, he can-

"Miss us?" Julia's long-nailed, almost clawed hand grips his shoulder tightly and forces him back on his chair. "We have some things to discuss, it looks like," she says, and though her voice is pleasant enough, Jon can hear the underlying growl under it.

"If you give us the right answers, maybe we won't have to check if you're still human enough to bleed." Trevor smirks. Jon looks up at the old man, but everything in him is telling him to keep quiet, to wait for an opening. Hunters are not to be taken lightly, much less as a pack.

"You've got something of ours." Julia stabs a knife of her own right through Barbara Mullen-Jones' statement. "Took it right from under our noses."

"After we saved you from that Stranger puppet and gave you all the information you needed. Very rude to steal our biggest resource." Trevor presses the blade a bit tighter to his neck, but Jon couldn't care less about it anymore.

How could he have been so stupid? He'd thought they were here for him, why come to the Archives if not to kill the Archivist? Something hot and dark and angry starts brewing in his stomach.

"Gerry wasn't yours," he snarls. "You had no right to-" the knife presses deeper, and Jon's mouth snaps shut more out of the Eye's self preservation sense than his own, his mind still reeling with the memory of the pained ghost that asked him for a smoke, just a shadow of the man he-

"You heard that, Julia?" Trevor cackles." 'Gerry'!"

"Seems like you've gotten pretty chummy." Julia leans over, her mouth curled in a sardonic smile. "Pull dear Gerry out every now and then for a tasty statement, don't you?"

Jon's eyes narrow as he tries to ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach. Of course he feeds from Gerry, but it's- he's not like them.

"Where is it?" Trevor snaps at his silence, giving him a shake. The knife breaks skin, not enough to bleed but enough so that Jon feels the sting.

"I set him free." And Gerry came back to him, he's Jon's now, and they are not taking him again.

"You what?" Julia grabs him by the shirt, pulling him up to his feet. Jon comes gladly, his chin held high and holding Julia's gaze. He can see the Hunt in her eyes, but Jon finds that he's not too intimidated, not after Daisy, and definitely not when Gerry's life is on the line.

"You wasted your time coming here." Jon says simply.

"Aren't you feeling ballsy today?" Julia gives him a hard shove, and Jon topples back on his chair. "But we didn't. We can at least get rid of another mouthy monster before we go. You want the honors, old man?"

Trevor shifts his grip on the handle of the knife, a wide, lupine grin spreading over his face. "Don't mind if I do." Jon's lips twitch into a smile, and the two hunters scowl.

"Get away from him." Daisy snarls from the open door to Jon's office, and Trevor and Julia snap around to face her.

"Who- ah. Got yourself a guard dog, didn't you?" Trevor laughs. "Smart bastard."

"More of a lapdog. She's scrawny, isn't she?" Julia goes for a mocking, dismissive tone, but Jon sees the stiffness in her limbs, and the nervous twitch of a muscle on her jaw.

Jon looks at Daisy, and he realizes for the first time just how sickly she looks. The lean frame that wrapped around him in the Buried now appears emaciated, and though Jon can See the boiling presence with too many teeth trying to burst out of her skin, there's no denying what abstaining from the Hunt has done to her.

"Malnourished, more like. Haven't tasted blood in a while, have you?" Trevor asks. "This one will die nicely; you could come with your kind instead."

"Or I could hunt you instead." Daisy takes a step forward, and Jon Sees the hunter boiling even closer to the surface.

"Don't." Julia say simply, when Daisy makes to take another step. Her hand digs into Jon's hair, pulling back to expose his neck. "Or I'll kill your library rat."

"You can try. You better hope you're faster than me, though." Daisy's voice devolves into a low growl, and Julia responds in kind. Trevor says nothing, merely watching the two women face off.

"Do you really think you can take us both?" She asks, tightening her grip in Jon's hair. "You're weak."

"Are you willing to bet your daddy's life on it?" Daisy bares her teeth.

"I'm not her father," Trevor says sullenly, and Jon snorts.

"Are you sure?" Jon asks, and Julia yanks roughly on his head.

"Shut up, I'll-"

"Let's go." Trevor interrupts. Jon gives him a quick glance, an old wolf that has learned to pick his battles.

"Old man-"

"There's no rush. Plenty of monsters to go around, too." Trevor gives Daisy a grin that she responds to with another growl. "Good luck guarding them all."

Julia gives another snarl, letting go of Jon's hair with a harsh shove that has Daisy flinching forward, before she and Trevor make for the door. Daisy stands there like a statue, and Jon feels the tension in the air rising with every passing second, until Trevor and Julia seem to decide to just go around her.

Their stomping footsteps grow fainter and fainter in the distance, Daisy crouches to the floor, her entire frame shaking.

Jon shoots from his chair. "Daisy? Are you-"

"Don't touch me," Daisy snarls, startling Jon. He pulls back the hand he was about to lay on her shoulder.

"Daisy. Listen to me." Jon kneels before her. "Just-"

"They're not gone yet. They're- I could find them. I could take them down." Daisy's shoulders shake even harder, and Jon forces himself to not flinch back.

"The- remember what you said, Daisy. Don't listen to the blood..."

"...Listen to the quiet," Daisy responds after what feels like an eternity. Jon carefully lays his hand on her arm, right above the spot where her nails are digging into her skin. She leans into it, and Jon wraps his other arm around her.

"It's- you're wasting away." Jon squeezes her shoulders, muttering into her hair. "You need to-"

"I'm not going back to that." Very slowly, one of Daisy's arms comes to return the hug.

"Daisy-"

"I hurt people, Jon. You know I did. I almost killed you-"

Jon squeezes harder, as the Eye drops flash after flash into his mind. The last moment of all the people -all beings- whose last view was the Hunt-distorted face of Daisy Tonner. "That was not you. That was the Hunt."

"We're the same."

"No, you're not!" Jon snaps. "You're- it's different, Daisy. You are different. What you were before-"

"I was a monster." Daisy's voice holds a special sort of fragility, and Jon tightens his grip as much as he can.

"There are worse things to be."

They stay there for what feels like hours, until both their breathings slow down, until Daisy's shoulders stop shaking with the urge to chase, and her nails are no longer digging into Jon's shoulder.

"So... did something happen here, or is this just something you two do for fun?" Tim's voice comes from the still open door, and Daisy whips up so abruptly that Jon is just thrown back in a tangle of limbs. "Whoa, tense."

"Tim-" Jon clears his throat as he climbs to his feet. "This is not a good time."

"When is it anymore?" Tim arches an eyebrow. "So?"

"It's noth-" Jon stops himself, sighing at Tim's unimpressed, guarded look. He chooses to trust. It doesn't matter that Tim doesn't trust him back, he- there's a reason for that, and Jon has to live with it. Maybe forever, now. "The hunters came by. Daisy scared them off."

"Top dog, I like it." Tim smirks at Daisy's answering scoff, before turning to face Jon again. "Did they come for you?"

"No, they-" Jon freezes, Trevor's last sardonic remark ringing in his head like a bell.

They're gone. They're gone, and they- Daisy was able to track him down to Michael Crew's house before she even knew the Hunt was in her. Trevor and Julia are both experienced hunters, and they came here for-

Jon shoots out the door, shoving his way past Tim and ignoring Daisy's concerned call, and hers and Tim's footsteps behind him as he rushes up the stairs and out of the institute.

He knows the way to follow like a bird flying South for Winter, a thread of steel pulling at his very core as buildings and street signs rush past the edge of his vision. He doesn't know how long he's ran for, his lungs burn and his legs are tired, -Jon has never been an athlete- but he's getting closer and-

Jon turns a corner and slams against something solid and soft and warm, bouncing back with a huff before his mind registers the concerned blue-green eyes looking down at him, and the shouting in his head comes to a halt.

"You're alright," are the first words Jon can form coherently.

"I- am?" Gerry arches an eyebrow, and Jon laughs with relief before throwing his arms around him. "Jon?" Gerry asks, an arm coming to rest over his shoulders, a hand behind his head.

"Huh, you were right. I owe you a drink I guess." Melanie says, her voice both dry and unimpressed, and Jon flinches back from Gerry's embrace like he's been burned. She rolls her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Of course they were together, they're hunting, how could he have forgotten?

"I- the- at the Institute-" Jon sputters. Melanie's not with the Slaughter anymore, but she wouldn't have let Gerry face the hunters alone. His face starts heating up as the uselessness of his mad dash through the city rains down on him.

"Jon, what happened?" Gerry asks, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Is anyone- shit!" Gerry yanks him and Melanie out of the way, throwing the three of them against the wall just as Tim and Daisy turn the corner at full speed.

"We're here!" Melanie calls out calmly, and the two of them skid a few feet before turning back to face them.

"What the fuck, Jon?!" Tim exclaims, steam shooting from his lips as he pants. Daisy eyes him in a way that makes it fairly clear she's thinking something along the same lines, and Jon wishes for nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Again.

"Uh- yes, I can-"

"Explain why you made us run all the way to Chelsea?!" Tim shouts again.

"Stop yelling at him!" Daisy snarls. She looks considerably better than she did at the Institute, and Jon wonders if chasing after him did something for her. "Jon?"

Jon darts a look around, trying to gauge the general mood. Tim is, of course, furious. Both Gerry and Daisy are giving him mixed looks of worry and confusion, and Melanie seems to be enjoying his predicament.

"I- they were looking for him," Jon mutters, growing more and more embarrassed as Daisy and Tim start to connect the dots.

Daisy sighs. "You though of calling me on the phone, but not him?"

Oh. That's- Gerry does have a phone that he usually has with him.

"I... wasn't really thinking."

"You're kidding me." Tim groans, and immediately turns to the street to start hailing a cab down. "You're paying for my ride back, you asshole."

"Uh... can I ask what this is about?" Gerry leans down to whisper in his ear. Jon exhales, the relief at finding Gerry alive and well still swelling in his chest.

"At home. Please?"

Gerry's brow furrows, but he eventually nods. "At home, then." And he presses a kiss to Jon's temple.

Jon, who is most definitely not used to public displays of affection, freezes on his spot. His face burns even more when he hears Melanie groan as well, before she begins to walk away.

"Tim, can I ride with you? I don't want to stay any more."

"Be my guest. Maybe we can convince the driver to charge him by the passenger. Daisy, you coming?"

Jon sighs and steps away from Gerry, pulling his wallet out when a cab rolls to a stop before Melanie and Tim. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The idea of four walls and a door as a sanctuary is laughable in the world they move in, but home is home, and it's more about a feeling than it is about a space.

"Please don't go after them." Jon's voice is almost too quiet in the thick darkness of the room, but Gerry can taste the desperate intensity in the words just as clearly as if they'd been pressed to his lips.

"Why would I?" he asks, like the thought wasn't the first thing on his mind as soon as Jon ended his tale. It's not like he can pay them back for what they did to him, keeping him from his rest just to use him, but fuck it would be satisfying.

"Gerry."

It's the emotions poured in it rather than the name, what makes Gerry feel like the breath has been punched out of him.

It's heavy with a sort of devotion Gerry's never been on the receiving end of, but that he's tasted in Jon's words before, sweetening Martin's name like a breathless prayer.

It's new.

It's terrifying.

It's intoxicating.

"Say my name again."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Won't you look at that." The voice that reaches Gerry's ears when he climbs the last step out of the Archives makes Gerry freeze on his spot.

He's heard it a thousand times before, reading his last, most intimate moments like they were a particularly boring instruction manual, tearing him from the painful, burning dormancy of the book for another round of questioning.

"That sneaky bastard." Julia shakes her head with a disbelieving cackle. "Dear Gerard, long time no see. Sorry, it's 'Gerry' now, isn't it?" She was always the one asking the questions, impatient and snappy whenever Gerry took too long to answer.

Gerry snorts, his mouth twitching into a smile. These two are opportunistic hunters if he's ever seen any, a pair of hyenas looking for lonely prey.

"This is very convenient, you know?" Gerry cracks his neck. He's never killed hunters before; Gertrude always thought they were better left alone, since they usually went after other avatars. It's just fitting that Gerry's always been good at learning on the fly. "I promised Jon I wouldn't go looking for you. Didn't say anything about what would happen if you found me."

"Oh, you promised him? How sweet." Julia smirks as she moves, her eyes glued to him as she flanks him. "How did he get you like this, huh? You were much more useful when you were pocket-sized, let's go back to that."

"I hate to disappoint." Gerry focuses on her. She's younger, faster than Trevor. Her neck is also very thin, and he Knows she favors her right side, and forgets to watch her legs. It's just a matter of getting a good kick in-

"Let's just kill him. He's no good to us like this, and who knows what he is now." Trevor is at his other side, no doubt giving him the same evaluation he just gave Julia. "One less monster."

"Oh yes, that's your whole thing, isn't it?" Gerry arches an eyebrow. "Pretending you're doing this to save people, and not because you're just another pair of hungry dogs."

"Better than just playing house with the monsters, if you ask me. How's dear sweet Jon?"

"Doesn't it worry you?" Gerry ignores Julia's taunts, looking at Trevor instead. That always did irk her when she interrogated him. "She doesn't have the best track record with parents, if I were you, I'd be concerned about ending like Robert Montauk."

That does it.

Julia launches at him with a roar, and Gerry has barely enough time to plant his feet to catch her- before a burst of fog shoots out of nowhere between them and Julia skids to a stop inches from touching it.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to leave the premises, please." The three of them freeze as the fog dissipates, leaving behind only Martin's grey, cold-eyed form. Gerry feels his mind kicking into overdrive because this is bad in so many levels. First and foremost, Martin and the hunters are in the same place at the same time, and that's less than ideal. Then there is the fact that Martin just came out of the Lonely, and-

"Who the hell are you?" Julia goes to push Martin aside, pulling her hand back as if burned when it goes right through him. "What-"

"Out." Martin says, his eyes hard behind his glasses. "Unless you want to wait for the others, in which case feel free to stay, they should be here soon."

Gerry smirks at the nervous look that passes between the two. Of course they wouldn't like to be the outnumbered ones.

"Remember how you used to ask me about the monsters? I'll give you a freebie, for old time's sake," he says, stepping forward to stand next to Martin. "You don't want to wait."

"Real cute." Julia bares her teeth at him, and Trevor narrows his eyes. She then whips around on her heel and walks towards the door, only stopping for long enough for Trevor to reach her, and Gerry watches them go with a bitter smile.

The doors closing after them is almost deafening in the silence left behind. Out the corner of his eye Gerry can see Martin start fidgeting, and he takes a deep, calming breath before turning to face him. It's alright. Martin is- he's here, he just has to pull him back.

"Did you really call anyone else?" Gerry asks.

Martin rolls his eyes, and Gerry notices with a pang of guilt that they're a cool, muted gray, despite the interaction. "Of course not. But I had to get them out, and I heard Tim say that Daisy alone was enough to send them running. Figured the idea of more people would only be more effective."

"I could've taken them," Gerry shrugs. Then, and his voice has grown a bit weaker, "I didn't know you could go into the Lonely now."

Martin looks down at the fog rolling around him like he's seeing it for the first time. "Hm. I didn't notice I was in, actually."

"That's- Martin, that's worse." Gerry grimaces. Martin is still human -as far as he can See- but only barely so.

"Is it?" Martin asks, and his contour is starting to blur and fade again, like a mirror fogging up. "Stay here today, will you? I'm sure Jon will be happy to have you."

"Martin, please-"

But he's gone.

Gerry stares for a moment at the spot he disappeared on, but eventually he gives a long, defeated sigh as he starts the way back down the stairs to the Archives.

Sending the hunters running no longer feels like a victory.

[tokupedia]

Costume Ideas for Halloween 2018: Super Sentai

We did Power Rangers, now it is time to focus on the eastern progenitor of that franchise to seek ideas for Halloween costumes.

Yakuu Sentai V-Leaguer  (MLB Team edition)

October isn’t just a time for tricks and treats, but it also signifies the end of baseball season here in the USA with the World Series games airing throughout the week leading to Halloween and sometimes goes until November. So my first choice for a costume idea goes out to you diehard sports fans.

In the 1980s, when Kagaku Sentai Dynaman was being planned out, it was originally going for a baseball theme and went by the name Yakuu Sentai V-Leaguer. Ultimately, this idea was scrapped by Toei as marketing dudes thought that totally gnarly and rad 1980s kids would think baseball was a lame concept and they needed something “cooler”. Remnants of this idea, such as the Dynaman having their helmets sculpted to look like they have baseball caps in them, are seen in the suit designs and the Dyna Rod sidearm looks somewhat like a baseball bat.

For this idea, there are many avenues to choose from. You can either do a full Dynaman suit with patches you bought online of your favorite team and emblems painted on the helmet, go for a budget “casual” approach and wear a team shirt, custom Dynaman helmet and baseball uniform pants and cleats. Or you can do a full custom V-Leaguer approach, with the team’s name proudly on your chest, adorned in the team’s colors and the number of one of your favorite players on the back (or make your own number with your name on it)! 

I think the most amusing one would be for Texas baseball fans, as they would have literal Texas Rangers cheering on their team! XD Also, for more amusement if you are at a game, hold up a sign while in costume that says #DigitalWatches, fans will get the joke.

The Original Battle Fever J

This concept art drawn by Shuuhou Itahashi and Yuuji Kaida, was created to pitch the concept of Battle Fever to Marvel Comics. The two emulated the art style of John Byrne’s era of X-Men comics, and it shows despite being great Bronze Age-style designs. These feel more in line with America’s superheroes than Super Sentai and thus changes were made along the way to make the look more appealing to a Japanese audience.

Some of these even look a little familiar to those of Marvel Fandom, Battle Kenya is channeling a bit of Black Panther, Miss America’s leotard is modeled after Captain America’s costume and Battle Japan has a bit of X-Men’s Sunfire in his look.

Now sadly, this is the only image of the original concept on the web right now, so improvisation is needed a bit when going into the costume design. But that actually works to your advantage, with only a base template, you are free to tweak the look however you want!  All you really need to keep in are the colors of the flags somewhere to keep the nationality theme. I imagine original Battle Kenya and Miss America will be the most popular of the bunch based on how popular their inspirations are thanks to the MCU.

Battle Cossack would have to be updated, since one, the Soviet Union no longer exists and thus dates it quite a bit and two, fur underpants mixed with spandex are a really weird combination (and probably very itchy). 

Maskman (Orignal Fiveman Prototype Concept Designs)

Maskman was a game changer in terms of helmet and costume design as well as venturing outside the storytelling realm of sci-fi and incorporating new mystical ideas into its elements, heralding a sneak peek at what Super Sentai would be in the coming decades. But for a brief period, Maskman was on the verge of being a throwback in design when it was known conceptually as Fiveman, which of course became the name of another Sentai team.

The original suit designs incorporated what came before, most notably Battle Fever J. ��X1 Mask, the one-off sixth member of Maskman, is the only “living” remnant of what could have been.

You will need LED lights and circuitboards, cosplay costume material, a custom stencil for creating the black “5″ chest emblem out of the fabric and if you can, find 3D modeling software for aiding in creating the helmets. The female Ranger helmets have a bit of sculpted helmet “hair” kind of like AkibaYellow and Blue, though you can skip that part if you don’t want 100% accuracy to save time. You will also need material to create the costume belts and pouches.

Fake KyoryuRed

One of the pitfalls of being a Super Sentai fan is that a few members of the fandom are quick to gossip and sometimes resort to elaborate pranks to get attention, like most fandoms. One cruel tactic that was put up with is the fake designs of an upcoming Red Ranger. This has recently died down thanks to stronger connections to official sources, but still is a problem that persists as even Kyuranger got the Fake Red treatment last year. In 2013, a rumor spread that this image above was the Red Ranger of the then trademarked Kyoryuger. 

Despite being immediately debunked as fake, it isn’t a bad design, harkening back to Zyuranger with the dino themed helmets that in clearer images had a jagged “teeth” like pattern on the red parts sculpted above the mouthpiece. It also had Dekaranger-like suit patterns with the represented dino covering a portion of the bodysuit in black silhouette with white outlines, “fossil teeth” shoulder pads and a metallic segmented belt with a gun holster and sword holster. 

Commander Hilltop’s “Robocop” crazy outfit

In Episode 31 of LupPat, a Gangler tries to negotiate a plea deal with the police. In a comical attempt of Good Cop, Bad Cop the Patrangers make their boss wear....whatever this is, to make the Gangler uncomfortable (and reference Robocop). It is really bizarre and doesn’t work.

What you will need: a soup/spaghetti pot on your head, metal bowls on your shoulders, a black body suit, oven mitts, 2 grill spatulas, a toy gun, white and orange rain boots, large forks, a pot lid, grill grates or small baking cooling racks and a metal cookie sheet on your back. In other words, raid your kitchen for parts!

Devil Gun from JAKQ Dengekitai

A crook made out of guns, self explanatory. His head is a gun, his chest has 3 cannons, his arms have cannons and more guns are in his fingers, he is a gunstavaganza! You will need a lot of gunmetal gray paint and a lot of patience. If you examine closely, you can see where the eye holes are for the costume. 

Ways to make it really impressive is to replicate the firing effects for the head gun with liquid fog juice, lights and sound effects. Just be careful though, in these troubling times we live in, seeing and hearing guns can make people jittery.

Zeek Jeanne from the GoGo V movie

In an alternate universe, when GoGoV was adapted into Lightspeed Rescue, I like to believe Ms. Angela Fairweather got into the fight wearing this suit instead of PLEX creating a new Ranger from scratch. (*nudges Boom! Studios*) Though the Titanium Ranger is awesome, so it balances out.

Demon Hunter Zeek bestowed his powers to GoGoV ally Kyoko Hase to become Zeek Jeanne before she ultimately lost them to give GoGoV the power to destroy the movie’s villain. One thing I never understood is why the protective face visor just vanished when the suit equipped onto a female hero.

So you have options of face visor on or face visor off. Unlike most Ranger cosplays, your field of vision will be a little better than wearing a Ranger helmet given the large face visor if you do some minor alterations.

GekiBlack

(an unnamed Livedoor artist’s photoshop render of “Super GekiBlack”)

Rio, the main baddie of Gekiranger, eventually learned he was being manipulated by Long and allied with the GekiRangers. Jan dubbed him “GekiBlack” and his partner Mele as “GekiGreen” if they became friends later on. Sadly, it was not meant to be as Long turned into his dragon form and made bite-sized snacks out of both Rio and Mele.

Many fans often wonder what would have happened if Rio had lived and instead of reusing old monster suits, PLEX and Rainbow Zoukei crafted a brand new Gekiranger outfit for him. Most fans know the rules of conceiving such a notion: he must be black in color with gold accents in the suit, and his helmet must be sculpted to resemble a lion’s mane or have lions in it.

What You Need: A GekiRed base template of some kind, black and gold paint and costume cloth, Gekiranger symbol, concept sketches to plan out an idea of what to tweak. Rio’s Kaijin form can also be used as a template. The most difficult part would be choosing a morpher, either make a custom one or make a stylized version of the GekiChangers. For the Super Version, just emulate the base Super Gekirangers but with black and gold added to the white in the bodysuit or just do the ‘shop image above. 

If you have a special someone who wants to Ranger up too, you can be nice and make him/her a GekiGreen outfit and celebrate Halloween as two fated lovers!