#martin deserves a prize for being such a supportive bf

[nox-scrie]

The Burning Devil

TMA5 Countdown- Day 1, The Corruption and The Vast

So... the trailer dropped yesterday and this fanfic is NOT really true to the canon universe but I don't really care (as Jonny doesn't care about me or my feelings). Also it's not corrected so I'm sowwy for this @pilesofnonsense . Hope y'all like it though!!

Content Warnings: Burning, Loneliness, Cancer and some kind of Madness

Characters: Jon "Jarchivist" Sims, Martin "Too Pure 4 This" Blackwood, Jude Perry and some OCs

Fears: The Corruption, The Vast and some mentions of The Eye

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Setting: ~a month after the ending of Season 4

Word Count: 3585

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The Burning Devil

The train almost reached London when the weird things started happening. Most of the passengers were asleep, the train having been going non-stop for the last 15 hours. Nobody even cared to look at the two men sitting in a bed together in a sleep  car, one of the two shaking so badly you couldn't focus on his shape and the other franatically searching for something in a backpack.

The first light bulb went out as easily as if you blew a candle. One of the men started nervously bitting his lip, before abandonind the bag and craddling the trembling man in his arms. A girl on a few beds away from them, headphones in her years and a book opened in her lap, sent a nasty look towards the non-functioning light, and then looked at the two men as if she knew they were looking at her. She didn't say anything though, other than smiling in an approving way.

Then, the whole train shook, as if it was passed by an electric wave. Now most of the passangers were awake, some screaming in distress, others just mumbling about the poor quality of transportation in England.  Nobody looked at the men that were hugging on the bed, and how something started... moving on one of their skin. A sigh escaped the trembling person as they started clinging to their lover's sweater.

"Martin." was all he said, and then the eyes that have appeared on his skin started blinking rapidly, chaotically, and Martin started feeling sick.

"I... I think I can find it, Jon. I really do. Just..."

"No. The girl. She has something to tell me."

Jon was looking down at the dirty bedsheets, rows of sweat covering his forehead, but the eyes kept staring at the girl with the headphones, who was now half out of her bed and walking the short distance towards them. Martin covered Jon's forearms with a blanket, but he could do anything about the eyes that appeared on his lovers' face and neck. He was hungry, and there was no other meal than information, trauma, pain and sorrow he needed right now.

"Hey... is your partner okay? It looks like-" and then she saw the eyes. The moment was imprinted on her face, which turned a ghostly white, her black eyes wide and mouth started opening to let out a scream.

"No." was all Jon said, looking at her with his own eyes, and the scream was stuck in the girl's throat. The eyes on Jon's skin started to shine, as if blazing from within. "Tell me... tell me your story."

A tape recorder appeared on his hand out of thin air, and Martin closed his eyes for a few seconds and signaled for the girl to have a seat on their bed. She did that, but Martin wasn't sure how much of that was her own will and how much The Eye's. He extended a hand though, and she looked at it, panicked, before looking at Martin once again and seeing.. something on his face that made her take his hand.

Nobody was paying attention to the two men and the girl that were sitting in a bed, prefering to watch the windows that were now cracked in shapes that perfectly resembled some eyes. Martin started feeling his heart pumping, fatigue overtaking his body, and he didn't look st Jon, he couldn't. Instead, he focused on the girl's face and clasped her hand with both of his.

Jon pressed play, and the eyes were rolling around and around on his skin, all kinds of colors and shapes, from white to blue to purple and yellow, from small to wide and enlongated. His voice was calm, collected, and it sent a chill down Martin's spine as he tightened his grip on the girl's hand. He hated the this, the fact that The Eye had so much control, the way it turned his lover into a puppet. Even though anger was building up inside his chest, he took a deep breath and focused on the story. There was nothing either of them could do now.

"Statement of... Alicia Jesper... regarding the last car race she ever took part in. Statement recorded directly from subject, the first of November, 2018. Statement begins."

There was a moment of silence, and the eyes focused on Alicia at once, burning on her. She let out a sigh, one of distress or fear or both, and she opened her mouth and started talking. The words were heavy, and being dragged out like this was like seeing someone be placed in a chair and given a handgun, so they can kill themselves before it gets worse for them. Martin felt his hands crushed by her, and he realized that maybe she was angry too. He hoped she was; anger is not hopelessness, he would know.

"I've always been interested in cars. Either in an aesthetic sort of way, or driving them, cars are a constant in my life more than anything else... or, they used to be, at least.

My first memory is me in the front seat, being held by my father. I remember how small my hands were on the steering wheel, and how he laughed, or caughed, because I was shaking and I thought that's what it felt like to drive on a bumpy road. I must have been around three or four years old then, and my father died when I was ten. Mom never recovered, and by the time I turned fourteen, sha has changed half a dozen of jobs and has given up entirely on at least trying to get better.

When she told me we had to sell the car to pay our rent, I revolted. It was not my fault that she couldn't get herself into psychiatric help, and neither was the car's. I told her, begged her, to try to get into therapy and finding a job, but she was hellbent. And that's how I got my first fake ID.

One of the upperclassmen, some person named Morgan Doe, was into this shady, movie-like, kind of bussines. They had a reputation for faking IDs and other documents, and getting their hands on everything you wanted for the right price. I took all of our economies, which were really not that many now that I think of it, and asked for a Graduation Certificate and a fake ID. They haven't even looked at me for more than three seconds, and nodded. In two weeks, I was a new person, Allison Jay, an 18 year old who was taking a gap year before going to the University of Manchester. I got a job of delivering pizza without even trying too hard.

Now I just had to learn how to drive. There are many... many Youtube tutorials and Wikihow articles that really do help, but I had to learn it on my own, my short body barely reaching the pedals. It was a long process, but luckily I haven't destroyed anything in the time I was learning, and the police never stopped my car, even as I knew I was not driving under the speed limit.

From then on, it was the time for jobs related to driving: I delivered pizza, drove people around, even signed up for Uber for a while. The tips were good, but I had to clean the backseat so often that the material started wearing off. All in all, throught high school my mom and I did great money wise. She was still a nasty thing, angry and... in pain all the time, but at least we had something to put on the table every day. And then she died too, and I was left with a three-room apartment and crappy car. I was finishing high school then, and after the graduation ceremony, I packed my things, burned up any remains of the name Alicia Jesper I could find, sold the apartment and the car and left.

My first sports car was won in a race. It was a lucky strike; I was with one of my friends, Mirabella Ashton, who's place I was crashing, and we thought it could be fun. We were both into driving, and my friend even participated in a few races, but I was a newbie. Still, when this drunk guy came to us and said that he will race for his car, my fingers started trembling and my brain was on fire, and before I knew what was happening, I said yes. My friend was pretty tipsy too, and they let me borrow their car as long as I get it back in one piece. I joked that they didn't even know me, but I was nervous anyway. I placed a few grans on the bet, almost all of the money I had left, got into my friends' car and tried to calm my heart. I looked at the other drivers, all of them young and overrexcited that they will compete against a drunk guy and a girl, and the anger that started in my heart was more powerful than any fuel you can lay your eyes on.

So I drove. And I won. I shared the profit after the first race with my friend, and with the rest of the money and the car, I left the city. And so my life of car racing started. It was not always illegal, but it was hard to make a name for yourself in a men's world, without college or relations to send you to the top. I lived the next decade in abandoned train stations and open fields, drank so much booze my blood turned to beer, and had the time of my life. It was last year, when the incident happened.

I was good at what I was doing. I was so good, people were started to call me The Burning Devil, and got out of my way when I came to the races. It's not a popular activity, with only a few true sponsors, and after I settled down I started to get to know most of the people that came to these events. It would have been surprising to not notice the new person who came in that awful day, all dressed in red leather and with ginger hair.

She said her name was Jude, not giving a last name too. She said she was a newbie, as if you couldn't see that from how she was too-casually leaned on her car. She said she wanted to race, and that she wanted to race me.

I laughed, a bitter sound, and told her I don't want to crush her dreams when they're still so young. She in retutn extended a hand towards me, a wide smile on her face, and told me that if I give her a chance I might just change my mind. I didn't laugh this time; there was something in her voice... it made me jump slightly, as if there was a small flame under my feet. She was the one who laughed, and got inside her car without wating for me to shake her hand.

I looked at my friends, at my family basically, the only people who have cared for me and helped me improve, and smiled an already winning smile. They cheered me, and Mirabella, who was staying at my place for the time being, gave me a kiss on the lips. We were kind of in a relationship at the time, but that didn't continue after the race.

It was an easy win. I had a decade of experience and a good car, way better than the one I won when I was eighteen. I looked over to the girl in red leather, and she was staring right back at me. As the signal that warned us to get ready was heard, she smiled at me, again. This time I felt the flame cover my arms, and I hissed. I remember thinking that I should not let her get in my head.

This race was held on a hill, as were most of the races sponsored by Simon Fairchild. We were supposed to ride from the bottom of it to the top and make an U-turn to get back to where we started. It was more complicated than one might think, having to control the car both as you drive on a diagonal line, and and as you turn on a small area of space. Yet, I've made this circuit for more than a dozen of times so I wasn't worrying.

It took me only three minutes to get ahead by a good few hundred of metres. I could barely see har car, as red as her clothes, in the rear view mirror, and laughed out loud, feeling one with the car, feeling so free and so present in the world... The top of the hill was right ahead, and I was already feeling the taste of the rum the others' were going to give me and the smell of Mirabella's skin when she hugged me. It will be amazing to see the girl in red red with anger.

I reached the top of the hill witht he right speed limit to make the turn. My hand was on the break, at ready, and just as I turned it it... wasn't moving. It was stuck. I frantically started moving the handle, the end of the cliff top approaching me hurriedly, and I just couldn't. I started unbuckling my seat belt, ready to jump out of the car, and then I saw the red car, right next to my window. With half a mind I thought about how could she have gotten there so fast, and then I started to notice the fire. Her whole car was ablaze. She was laughing, but I couldn't hear her, just watch the wicked way her lips moved, and then she waved at me and I noticed that.. her skin was dripping. Just like the wax of a candle. The last thing I remember before plumetting off the hill was that her eyes and hair have caught fire too, and that it was beautiful in it's horror.

And then the car plummeted off the cliff. My seat belt was off, and I frantically tried to open the door, but it was stuck too. I think I screamed, I must have screamed, waiting for my awful end. But I.. I didn't die. The car was falling at a constant speed, like a paper airplane, almost floating in the air. The sky above me was too bright, and the green of the hill was barely noticeable in my fall. I didn't move, out of terror that changing my position might cause the lose of balance the car has. So I just waited for my inevitable death.

It's a weird thing, knowing that you'll die in only a few minutes, and knowing how it will happen, but being useless as in making a change. I watched the sky above me, that burning blue, and thought of my father. He has died of lung cancer from working long hourse in a mine around my hometown. Mom passed away in a similar way, lung cancer, but it was a weird thing... she has never smoked, or been around so heavily polluted air as my father did.

As the car kept crashing, falling, floating, I felt it. I felt the air being stuck in my chest, and I started coughing. I couldn't breath. I couldn't open my mouth enough to get in some air, any air, I couldn't make my nose inhale, or my chest stop hurting, and my head started feeling heavy as I was coughing and falling and floating towards my own death. I felt blood vessels explode across my skin with ugly pops, my eyes glued shut, I felt hopeless and wished so, so, hard to just die already.

And then it stopped. The car was still floating at a constant speed, but the pain in my chest was no longer there. I could breath, and I did that for at least ten minutes before allowing myself to open my eyes. The sky was brighter than ever, and I hated it.

That's how I lived for what must have been three days. It was coughing fits and the impossibility to breath, it was me crying softly in the driver's seat, not caring about any kind of balance as I tried with all my might to open the door, any door, and kill myself to escape from that hell. The sky turned black when night begun, such as it did everyday, but even that was too bright, ablaze, mocking me in its freedom. I couldn't sleep. I didn't feel hunger, or thirst, either, I just sat there, watching, wishing to die, wishing for the coughing fits to stop, but none of my wishes came true.

When I felt something of that floating shift, I was just getting out of a coughing fit. This one was different than the others, blood having painted my hands now. That was the moment the car started falling.

It took only a few seconds. It took only a few seconds for it to get stuck in a tree around the other end of the hill, and for me to open the driver's door as if it was nothing. I fell on the ground and started running, expecting to be sore or hungry or in pain, at least, but I was feeling nothing. I ran and left my crashed car behind, as far away as I could. I needed to get on the road, to hitchhike to the city, and to make sure everyone knew I'm okay.

That's when I saw all the people gathered right where the race started, cheering for the girl in red so loudly I could hear it from almost a mile away. I stopped in my tracks; there was no way they could have been sitting there for three days, in exactly the same clothes. Uncertain, I walked towards them and saw the girl, Jude, with her arm around Mirabella's shoulder, saying something in her ear. She was not burned up. She was fine, her car was fine, her clothes were fine. I was not fine.

When Jude saw me, she smiled that wide, awful grin. I felt like I could cry, but I cried so much in the air that I don't think I'll be able to do it again. Jude thanked me for the race, and kissed Mirabella on the head. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, but she looked at me with an indescribable expression, before turning in Jude's embrace, away from me.

"And thanks for my prize, too." said Jude, barely above a whisper, as she turned towards the crowd with Mirabella. I could see that Mirabella's shirt had a hole on the shoulder where Jude's hand has been, a hole that looked as if it was burned in the material. It was the shape of the girl in red's hand.

I hitchhiked the way home. None of my friends offered me a ride."

Martin's hands were sore, and Allison's eyes were red, as if she has been crying. Jon no longer had the eyes covering his skin and he looked tired, not sick, as he looked before. The trembling stopped, and the windows were back in their original shape. Most of the passangers thought they must have imagined them breaking, or saw the branches of the trees in the pale moonlight hitting across the windows and thought they were cracks.

"Statement ends. Thank you... Alicia. "

"Do. Not. Call me. That." she extracted her hands from Martin's grip and formed a fist towards Jon, clutching her jaw. "I don't know what you just did, how you made me talk, but what I've been through has been hard enough without some creppy guy digging in my past and making me throw up all my trauma to be recorded on that stupid tape. Do you and your boyfriend get off on that?"

"It's really not like that Allison, we-" Martin started, but she extended her hand and made a fist of his sweater, threatening him now.

"Stop it. Stop it. This has been.. a very weird night. I will go back to sleep and when I wake up you two will not say a word to me ever again, not if you don't want me to call the cops. This night, this discussion, has not happened."

Jon let out a soft, unamused laugh, and nodded. Allison got up from the bed, clutching her hands around her neck, and started coughing. She returned to her bed with her back turned towards them, headphones in her ears, and did not move from that position.

"I hate when that you have to do that." Martin said, failing to hide the edge of his voice.

"I know. Me too. But it will be over soon, okay? It will be over soon."

They looked at each other and Jon sighed, placing a small kiss on Martin's forehead. He has been getting hungrier and hungrier in the past few days, but at noleast now they had a plan. Jon clutched the tape recorder in his hand and looked at the sky, the sky that was looking back at him, and hoped that their plan will work.