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completely-real-and-normal-human · 9 months

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an untitled magnus archives fic

the document this fic was in was just called ‘an indulgence in these troubling times’ and like yeah. sums it up really.

this fic isn’t really part of a wider au, i just threw one of the scrunklies from my brain into tma and wrote down what happened. i think it’s set somewhere in season 2 but i cannot be sure!

basic synopsis: spiral train.

my first fanfic on tumblr so pls be nice!!

tw: mentions of transphobia, spiral-typical body horror

[CLICK]

OLLIE A tape recorder? Seriously? I mean, I knew you folks were old-fashioned, but...

ARCHIVIST (mildly irritated) We've made several attempts to record to digital software, but it seems to disagree with most of the statements. This is the next best thing.

OLLIE Y'know what? I like it. Very retro. It kind of fits with this place.

ARCHIVIST Well, quite. (pause) If you'd like to begin?

OLLIE Sure. Do I, like, introduce myself, or...

ARCHIVIST Yes, just say your name and what your statement is regarding.

OLLIE Okay, uh, my name is Ollie Maverick, and this is regarding the disappearance of my coworker Grant Lewis due to an unexplained train in my workplace.

ARCHIVIST An... unexplained train?

OLLIE Well, it wasn't supposed to be there, and I sure as hell never got any sort of explanation for it.

ARCHIVIST R-right, well... (clears throat) Statement recorded direct from subject eighth of March 2017. Statement begins.

In your own time.

OLLIE (STATEMENT) Working in security was only ever okay, to be honest. The work's all right, apart from the night shifts — those really messed up my sleep schedule. I was working the night shift at a London train station when this happened. I know that's very vague, but I don't think I can name the station here, so you'll have to bear with me on that. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, and I'd like to avoid a lawsuit at all costs. Anyway, like I said, I worked in security, and it was one of my least favorite jobs. Not the worst, but it's up there. Top four. Mostly because of Grant Lewis.

Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but Grant was an asshole. He drank too much, chewed spearmint gum way too loudly, and he ran one of those alpha-male podcasts in his spare time. You know the ones — white guys in their twenties spend thirty minutes a week ramming their unsolicited opinions about women who won't date them and abortion and liberal politics down the throats of their listeners. That should tell you all you need to know about him. He was a prick, and he had it in for me from day one.

I was the only queer person on the security team, and I looked it. I came in the first day with a pronoun pin and a pink mullet and... well. He latched on to me, and I couldn't get rid of him. The worst part was, since we'd started working there at the same time and he kept making these awful jokes about me, to me, everyone else assumed we were friends. No one else could stand him, so we got lumped together the whole time on shifts. I spent hours with him in the control room, patrolling the station, even on my lunch break a few times when I came across him accidentally in a café. Every time, I'd have to listen to this — endless stream of unfunny jokes about my gender identity and my sex life. And, of course, those controversial opinions he aired on that podcast. He was infuriating, and he wouldn't go away.

But however much I hated Grant, I still don’t think he deserved what happened to him. Officially he's just disappeared, but I don't think anyone believes that now. I really, really don't want to know if he's still alive.

It all happened about a month ago. I was working the night shift from 11PM to 7AM with three other people — Allison Bates, Fred Landy and, of course, Grant. (long, irritated sigh) I... wasn't in the best of moods, to be frank. I'd spent the whole day dreading this, and to begin with it was exactly the kind of awful I'd expected. It was a Sunday, so the trains kept running until 2AM. The first hour or so was in the control room with Allison and Fred, who spent most of that time loudly flirting with each other. It was... very uncomfortable to watch, so I volunteered to go help Grant keep an eye on the platforms. It would have been well past midnight by this stage, coming up to 1AM, and he was out making sure the drunks lurching off the trains from holiday parties didn't get too rowdy.

There were four platforms in that station, grouped in pairs, and he was looking after platforms one and two. So, I headed off to look after platforms three and four, because I didn't feel like dealing with his bullshit. The steady flow of commuters was starting to peter out, and those that were drunk were harmlessly so. It looked like it might be shaping up to be a fairly quiet night. But I only got around forty minutes of relative peace before my radio crackled. Grant was apparently coming to join me, as Allison was covering platforms one and two. I had an idea that she'd probably sent him, as Grant had no idea how to be around any female-presenting people without getting really creepy. I may have mentioned he was a complete asshole, so I didn't really blame her, but I wasn't happy about it.

Grant showed up and we began patrolling the platforms and the small shop and cafe area together. He talked too much and chewed gum loudly, and I tried to ignore him as best I could and focus on the job. The last train rolled in around 2AM, and once the final passengers had stumbled out into the night we went to lock up.

It was then that we heard it. As we were walking back to the control room, the tannoy system crackled into life.

'The train now approaching Platform Four is not intended for passenger use. Customers are advised not to interact with the train, or indeed acknowledge it, in the interest of health and safety. Under no circumstances attempt to board the train now approaching Platform Four.

Thank you.'

It didn't sound like the usual train announcements. Those were an automated vaguely female voice, distant and slightly robotic. This voice was a garbled, distorted mess that I could barely understand, and it cut off with a screech of static that made my head ring. Grant and I stood there in confusion as the echo of that sharp static bounced off the walls, warping into something like a faint, mocking laugh.

I've not painted a great picture of Grant here, I know, but he was at least a fairly competent security guard. While I was still reeling from the announcement, he managed to get out his radio and make contact with Fred and Allison in the control room. They'd heard it too, and they were going to head towards the room that the tannoy operated out of, to see if it had been hijacked. Grant said we'd go take a look at Platform Four, to see if there was anything we needed to deal with.

It took us about two minutes to get there, and it felt like the echo of the tannoy announcement still hadn't died away. The air seemed different — heavier, maybe, and it smelled a little bitter. It made me slightly nauseous. Grant didn't seem to notice; he just started checking around the platform for anything suspicious. I was going to join him when there was a sharp, screeching whistle, like an old steam train, and I realised that I was smelling smoke.

It filled the platform as the train chugged into view, curling around everything and shimmering with colours that I — can't describe. The cloying, bitter smell of the smoke grew stronger and I could see Grant choking on it, tears streaming down his face but I breathed it in and it was... (panicked, breathy laugh) ..intoxicating. The train itself was an old steam train, bright purple and gold, with no driver that I could see. It slowed to a stop and the door to the first carriage swung open right in front of me. Mocking. Beckoning. (another laugh) It seemed the most natural thing in the world to just... step in.

Inside was a narrow corridor, carpeted in that same rich, wine-toned purple. The doors of the seating compartments faced me, and each had gauzy purple curtains pulled across the windows. I started down the corridor, and noticed a figure sitting inside one of the compartments. I couldn't make out much through the curtains, but they had long hair that seemed to be moving of its own accord, and….. their hands were... wrong.

I don't think I was entirely... myself, at that point. (shaky breath) I reached for the handle, and suddenly Grant rammed into me from behind, sending me sprawling onto the floor. He was pinning me down, talking fast and terrified, saying we had to get out, had to get help. I could see the long-haired figure in the compartment behind him slowly rising to their feet, rising and rising far beyond the proportions of a normal human body, limbs bending oddly in ways that hurt to look at. I screamed for Grant to run, but it was too late.

The door of the compartment opened with a creak, and... it wasn't a person. I don't know what the hell that thing was, but it was not a person. The hair was blond, and twisted and curled in on itself like a nest of snakes. Its eyes were hard to look at. B-but its hands... they were long, and the fingers had too many joints and they were sharp, and it looked at Grant and he started screaming, and it started laughing. That sound, it... it made my mind sting.

He tried to run, then. Got to the door that should have led back to the platform, but it was different now, smaller. Painted yellow. He opened it to show another long corridor, this time lined with mirrors and twisting wallpaper that hurt my eyes, and the monster-thing just... pushed him in. (pause) I... really hope he's dead. I really do. The alternative is just... well.

I scrambled to my feet and backed away as the thing turned to me with this... self-satisfied grin on its impossible face. Like it had just had a good meal.

Go if you like, it said. You'll be back. You won't be able to help it.

It began to laugh again as I began to run.

I don't know how long I ran. The carriage never seemed to end, and every door I opened led either to a set of seats or to another twisting corridor. Eventually, think I just... gave up. Lay on the floor and waited to dissolve into an impossibility.

I woke up lying on Platform Four with Fred leaning over me asking panicked questions while Allison was calling the police. I couldn't focus on any of what Fred was saying. My head was spinning. I... wasn't really aware of much until the police arrived. They asked me where Grant was. I said I didn't know. I was too rattled to come up with any sort of lie, so I just... told them what happened. (quiet laugh) I'm not really sure what the official proceedings were, but they didn't want to know. One of the officers dropped me home and I just went straight to bed. Thankfully my partner Rory was out on his own night shift at the time, so I didn't have to explain anything just yet. I slept like the dead until about four o'clock the next day, and the first thing I did when I woke up was send in my resignation.

I tried to... well, not forget about it, but to... put it at the back of my mind. I had no backup plan for a job, and Rory could only cover the rent alone for so long. I had to tell him what happened, obviously. I don't know if he fully believes me, but he hasn't said anything. He knows I saw something that really scared me, and he knows that that's why I quit my job. He's sticking with me, though.

Last week, I managed to get an interview for another security job in the Foundling Museum. And when I went to catch the train to get there, well.. I'm sure you can guess what happened. The smoke, this time, it... it was so hard not to get on that train. It felt... right. It was all I could do to walk away.

That blond monster-thing is following me, too.

It doesn't look as, as wrong as it did in the train, but I know exactly what it is. I see it pretty much everywhere I go. It catches my eye and winks at me, and I just about throw up with fear. Rory thinks they're panic attacks. He's trying to get me to see a doctor, or a therapist or something. He's probably right, but I wanted to come here first. I thought you... might be able to help.

ARCHIVIST (pause; a few abortive attempts to speak) Statement, eh... statement ends. I — I think I recognise this, ah... blond monster-thing you've mentioned. Did it... have you approached it? Talked to it?

OLLIE (incredulous) No!

ARCHIVIST Good. It... it calls itself Michael. I don't know exactly what it is, or what it wants, but it enjoys. toying with people. Doesn't seem to have any real purpose other than... spreading misery and madness.

OLLIE W-well, I... (clears throat) What do I do?

ARCHIVIST I'm afraid I... don't really know. (noises of panic and indignation from Ollie) I mean, I can tell you to avoid any suspicious doors, but I... have a feeling you could have come to that conclusion yourself.

OLLIE Great. Great. I knew this would be a waste of my goddamn time. Is that seriously all you've got for me? Avoid suspicious doors?

ARCHIVIST I'm sorry, I —

OLLIE (overlapping) Don't even —

[DOOR OPENS]

ELIAS Sorry Jon, am I interrupting?

ARCHIVIST Oh, Elias! Um... no, I, I think we're just about done here. R-right?

OLLIE Sure. We're done.

ELIAS Is everything quite all right?

OLLIE Apparently, you people are perfectly happy to take my statement, but you can't actually help me with my fucking eldritch stalker.

ELIAS Ah, yes. I can see how that might be... upsetting.

OLLIE (barely controlled rage) Can you, now?

ELIAS I believe I can. (pause) I'm Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute. And you are?

OLLIE Ollie. Ollie Maverick.

ELIAS Well, Mr. —

OLLIE (overlapping) Mx.

ELIAS Oh, my apologies. Well, Mx. Maverick, while I don't really know much about your situation specifically, I've found that our Institute is quite good at deterring any, ah, supernatural harassment of our employees. For the most part. And I believe you're in the market for a new iob?

OLLIE Uh. I mean….. yes, but how did you —?

ELIAS I was waiting outside for Jon to finish up, and I couldn't help overhearing. Interested?

OLLIE I... don't know that I could do much here. I don't know anything about ghosts, or - whatever it is you do...

ARCHIVIST I — Ollie, I really wouldn't —

ELIAS (overlapping) I'm sure you'll pick it up very fast. Should we discuss this in my office?

OLLIE Um... sure. May as well.

ELIAS Lovely. Oh, and Jon?

ARCHIVIST I — yes?

ELIAS Basira’s just got back. I believe you wanted to talk to her?

ARCHIVIST Oh, uh... okay, I'll — I'll go do that, I suppose.

ELIAS Right. Follow me, Mx. Maverick.

[FOOTSTEPS; DOOR SHUTS]

ARCHIVIST (sigh) Damn.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST Well, that was... (sigh) ...anyway. Another person trapped in the archives. Better than being trapped in a corridor hellscape or an endless train carriage, I suppose. (pause)

Though... would they have been trapped? The way they described the train, and especially that smoke... what did they call it? Intoxicating.

They're clearly very scared, and I can't say I blame them, but I have to wonder if what I'm seeing here is... the birth of a new avatar. With Michael shepherding them to their new domain.

In terms of follow-up (sigh) I have been able to confirm that a Grant Lewis was filed as missing on the third of February this year. However, I was not able to find anything else about the case or the circumstances of his disappearance. The police don't seem to have done anything, and it looks as if this Grant didn't have any friends or family to make a fuss about it. I talked it over with Basira, and she agrees with me that it probably comes under Section 31. Obviously, this makes it difficult to get any real evidence for this statement, but I'm inclined to believe it anyway.

What I don't understand is why Elias would offer Ollie a job. They've made it clear that they need it, but I hardly think it's out of the kindness of his heart. (quiet, tired laugh) He's probably got some secret, evil plan for them. Some way to cripple the Spiral, perhaps. Or maybe he just wants to inflict a new and interesting kind of trauma.

Either way, I think I'll be keeping a close eye on Ollie Maverick.

End recording.

[CLICK]

[SOUNDS OF SHUFFLING PAPER AND DRAWERS — A FILING CABINET? — OPENING AND SHUTTING. A DOOR OPENS.]

TIM Oh, uh — sorry, this area of the archives isn't open to the public.

OLLIE Yeah, I — I work here.

TIM In the Archives?

OLLIE Yeah, it’s my first day. My name's Ollie Maverick.

TIM Um... Tim Stoker. (pause) Sorry, what are your pronouns?

OLLIE (pleasantly surprised) They/them. You?

TIM He/him. (pause) So... you don't exactly look like the academic type.

OLLIE Says the person wearing a Hawaiian shirt to work.

TIM (laughs) No, I meant... y'know, people in this profession don't tend to be quite so buff. We're all skinny little nerds.

OLLIE Ah yes, my perfectly chiseled physique. I can see why you'd be confused. (Tim snorts) My last job was as a security guard, so...

TIM Sounds interesting.

OLLIE Well, it... didn't end well. I actually came to make a statement about it yesterday, and then your boss — Elias, I think his name was — offered me a job. For some reason.

TIM What?

OLLIE I know, right? I mean, I know jack shit about academia, but I did English in college and that was apparently good enough for him. I got the feeling that you're a little pressed for job applications.

TIM Yeah, well... I just hope you know what you're getting into.

OLLIE Oh?

TIM This place is... wrong. In a lot of ways.

OLLIE (jokingly) What, you've come across a lot of ghosts and ghoulies?

TIM I'm serious. It does things to you.

OLLIE Such as?

TIM It... won't let you quit. You can try it, but — you won't be able to.

OLLIE That all?

TIM (sigh) You'll find out soon enough, I guess. You're stuck here now.

OLLIE (pause) You're not just — messing with me?

TIM No.

OLLIE Well... fuck. (resigned sigh; pause) Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Assuming this even works.