Chapter Text
A tape recorder clicked off as the man who had begun it earlier stopped his monologuing. He leaned into his chair, making his back crack louder than he would’ve expected. Maybe Jon should leave his office sometimes. Perhaps a cup of tea would do him some good, it had been a while since the last time he felt well rested. In fact, this was probably his third night in a row that he had stayed at the Archives all night to finish his work.
Jon ran his fingers through his dark hair, grumbling under his breath as he pushed open the door to his office, making sure to grab the statement he had been reading on his way. The archives were oddly quiet today, all he heard was his own footsteps, and the ambience of buzzing that seemed to be a constant. Perhaps no one else was here yet. Some peace would be nice, his place of work tended to be a mess of papers, boxes and constant chattering. ( How the archives had become such a mess during Gertrude’s time he’d never understand).
He stumbled over a stack of books and made sure to avoid a stray box before opening the door to the break room. It was just as he had last seen it. Old, and oddly musty smelling. It didn’t have much, except a poor excuse for a “kitchen”, a decently sized coffee table, a mismatched pair of loveseats, plus those wooden chairs that had been brought in recently. Sure, there was a bulletin board full of “to-dos”, but Jon was certain it hadn’t been glanced at nor updated in the past two decades.
As he was just getting used to this new found silence, all hope at a calm morning was soon shattered by the sudden turn of a doorknob. He grumbled, not even having to turn his head to the second door to know who it was. Tim chattering on with Sasha was a constant at this point, and Martin tended to follow close behind. He didn’t care much to listen in, but knowing them, it was likely dumb office gossip. Jon continued to make his way to the tea kettle, quietly pouring more water.
“ Ah- Jon-! Don’t worry, I’ll handle tea.”
Martin interrupted his work, brushing past Tim and Sasha to take over the tea making. Jon sighed and reluctantly moved away. While he was completely competent enough to make it on his own, Martin had a history of making quite decent tea. It was likely the only thing he could do right.
“ Right you are then.”
Jon sat down on the unoccupied loveseat, adjusting his glasses to properly see the statement he intended on reading.
Statement of Mary Moore, regarding an odd bug and supposed hallucinations that followed, plus her wife’s strange behavior. Original statement given March 2nd, 2014-
He hardly even had the time to read off the heading before he noticed something.. off. A deep, knowing dread that sat deep in his chest and made his stomach churn. A faint, drowning static rose in the air, cutting through the chatter like a knife. He was not the only one to hear it, clearly, as both Tim and Sasha stopped their nattering with Martin to take it in. They each exchanged glances of confusion before the three that had been by the coffee table stood up to investigate the rapidly increasing hiss. Martin furrowed his brows in thought, stepping away from the stove.
“Wha-“
The static turned into a harsh, piercing shriek. Jon covered his ringing ears, stepping away from the door to the break room. It had begun to glow an eye-stabbing green and shook with an intensity that could outshine a hurricane. Tim instinctively threw himself in front of the others, gesturing his arms in a way to tell them to stand back. The glow and shaking grew in intensity simultaneously, before pausing for a hair’s width of time. The door flew open, and out flew.. two strangers.
The green illumination faded alongside the shake of the Earth and the world stood still. The silence could have lasted the mere blink of an eye, or perhaps minutes, hours even. What truly troubled them was who the hell the two of them were and where they had came from.
One of them was much taller than the other, and sprawled out on their stomach, so Tim couldn’t exactly get a great look at them. But he could see their head of darker, soft curls that faded into white at the ends. The shorter one was on their back without any rise nor fall in their chest. A knife sat in the middle of their upper torso, crimson liquid slowly rolling down from the wound. Their eyes- and fuck there were a lot- blinked simultaneously before fading into their face. Tim squinted, observing their facial features as recognition slapped him in the face. While there were many differences, such as the piercing green eyes or the many circular holes that dotted their face, he couldn’t help but see the similarities.
They looked exactly like Jon.