Mike Crew

Happy pride month to every fear that’s a little queer! Free interviews will be offered to anyone in our community! And remember! You are allowed to kill any homophobe that crosses your path!

I do that outside of June too :)

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike snorted. "That'd be a bit quick for you, wouldn't you say? Fall for a few seconds, land, die immediately? You don't deserve that." He said casually, his bright eyes glistening. "You deserve to suffer. To be thrown and hit the ground a thousand times before I decide I'm done with you." He sneered.

Mike let out a breathy chuckle, the wind slowly picking up around them. "A damn miracle." He said simply, despite the compulsion. "But I'll let you make an offer, if you're so desperate. Beg." He hummed coldly, stepping out of reach as Jon's stomach tugged at his insides again. He didn't have much time.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Hm. Boring... I suppose I wasn't expecting much, anyway." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't die on me too soon, would you?" He laughed as Jon fell upwards into the sky. Reality turned on its axis and he was plummeting again, wind whooshing around him, making him cold and nauseous. This time it took a few minutes for him to hit the roof again, and the impact was just as severe as last time. Mike looked over from the barrier he was balancing on. "Oh. You're back already?"

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike snorted. "That'd be a bit quick for you, wouldn't you say? Fall for a few seconds, land, die immediately? You don't deserve that." He said casually, his bright eyes glistening. "You deserve to suffer. To be thrown and hit the ground a thousand times before I decide I'm done with you." He sneered.

Mike let out a breathy chuckle, the wind slowly picking up around them. "A damn miracle." He said simply, despite the compulsion. "But I'll let you make an offer, if you're so desperate. Beg." He hummed coldly, stepping out of reach as Jon's stomach tugged at his insides again. He didn't have much time.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Hm. Boring... I suppose I wasn't expecting much, anyway." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't die on me too soon, would you?" He laughed as Jon fell upwards into the sky. Reality turned on its axis and he was plummeting again, wind whooshing around him, making him cold and nauseous. This time it took a few minutes for him to hit the roof again, and the impact was just as severe as last time. Mike looked over from the barrier he was balancing on. "Oh. You're back already?"

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike snorted. "That'd be a bit quick for you, wouldn't you say? Fall for a few seconds, land, die immediately? You don't deserve that." He said casually, his bright eyes glistening. "You deserve to suffer. To be thrown and hit the ground a thousand times before I decide I'm done with you." He sneered.

Mike let out a breathy chuckle, the wind slowly picking up around them. "A damn miracle." He said simply, despite the compulsion. "But I'll let you make an offer, if you're so desperate. Beg." He hummed coldly, stepping out of reach as Jon's stomach tugged at his insides again. He didn't have much time.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Hm. Boring... I suppose I wasn't expecting much, anyway." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't die on me too soon, would you?" He laughed as Jon fell upwards into the sky. Reality turned on its axis and he was plummeting again, wind whooshing around him, making him cold and nauseous. This time it took a few minutes for him to hit the roof again, and the impact was just as severe as last time. Mike looked over from the barrier he was balancing on. "Oh. You're back already?"

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike snorted. "That'd be a bit quick for you, wouldn't you say? Fall for a few seconds, land, die immediately? You don't deserve that." He said casually, his bright eyes glistening. "You deserve to suffer. To be thrown and hit the ground a thousand times before I decide I'm done with you." He sneered.

Mike let out a breathy chuckle, the wind slowly picking up around them. "A damn miracle." He said simply, despite the compulsion. "But I'll let you make an offer, if you're so desperate. Beg." He hummed coldly, stepping out of reach as Jon's stomach tugged at his insides again. He didn't have much time.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike snorted. "That'd be a bit quick for you, wouldn't you say? Fall for a few seconds, land, die immediately? You don't deserve that." He said casually, his bright eyes glistening. "You deserve to suffer. To be thrown and hit the ground a thousand times before I decide I'm done with you." He sneered.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Jon felt a surge of uncontrollable panic consume him when he realized what was happening. He screamed but anything vocal from his throat was swallowed up in the careening endlessness of space and air below him. He couldn't breathe and his body stiffened, gripped with the terror of certain death. Why would Mike let him live after everything he'd just told him? It had been his own hands after all that buried Mike. And if Mike somehow thought Daisy was his responsibility too? Jon tried to close his eyes, tried to tell himself this was better, if he was honest with himself. If Mike killed him that would be okay. But he was still so desperately afraid, afraid that he'd never know the moment Mike would make him hit the ground.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Jon lurched forward, elbows hitting his desk and the threat of getting sick gripping his stomach. His mind raced with what he could do against Mike, besides keeping him talking. "Did you die when she shot you? Can you even die?" he shouted above the air building speed around them, throwing everything he had into the compulsion. Papers were crackling in a whirlwind around him, pens rolling off his desk and hitting the floor. Jon tried to breathe, found every intake panicked and shallow. He expected if Mike took him this time, he might never stop falling.

Mike took a shaky breath, again unable to resist. Unable to stop talking. "Yes." Despite the loud air around them, his quiet words were easy to hear. "Yes, I can die, I died and I was put in the domain of my patron's antithesis, and then I died again!" He laughed weakly, another wave of vertigo hitting Jon. "I had to dig myself out and go on a hunt again to return here. Now I need to take care of what's left. Question time is over." He laughed, louder this time. The wind descended upon Jon, and then he was falling, the office floor collapsing under him.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Jon had faced down so many things that seemed to enjoy his pain. Jude, Daisy, Michael, Nikola, even Elias... So many things that wanted to harm him because of things he did not intend. So here was another one, joining the collection. Back from the dead somehow to haunt him. "Unfortunately, things scarier than you have tried," he said, trying to shore himself in the moment of stability. Still clutching his desk, he stood, facing down the other man. "What happened to your eye?" he compelled, quickly, desperately.

A strong wave of vertigo hit Jon again, more powerful than before. Mike seemed to be trying to resist the compulsion, but it wasn't working. After a brief struggle, the answer escaped his mouth. "I got shot and it damaged the nerves." He spat out, groaning afterwards. "Oh my god, you just can't figure anything out, can you?! I have a lightning shaped scar because I was struck by lightning, I have a bullet wound and fucked up insides around it because your damn guard dog shot me, how hard is that to figure out?!" He yelled, frustrated. "You just need everything spelled out for you?" Wind seemed to be swirling around him, which definitely shouldn't be happening in a closed space.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."

Jon's skin went cold as the realization sunk in that this man intended to trap him in his own office. It took him a second to realize who it was, but more than his face or his familiar voice, it was the sudden violent feeling of freefall that swept through Jon's body, and everything from that day came rushing back. Jon gripped his desk. "You came to finish the job?" he asked, wry and bitter.

Mike laughed quietly, looking absolutely delighted by Jon's panic. Still, under the amusement there was a deep anger. "Well, you almost did me in after I was gracious enough to let you leave, so I think that'd be more than fair." Up close, Jon could see a healed wound on his temple and the way the eye near it twitched oddly from time to time. The feeling of freefall let up for a short moment.

Mike entered the office, looking much better than when Jon last saw him. Better of course meaning standing on his own, without a gaping head wound. Not dead. His hair was longer, but his eyes were bright as ever, pupils shrinking slightly when he laid them on Jon. He closed the door, kicking a chair under it as he quickly made his way towards the desk. "You asshole."