Siren Song

Given the guy tried to kill him the first time they met, Siren probably should have told him to piss off by now. Still there’s something strangely reassuring at knowing that Remus is usually not that far away. Though he’s a little crazy, clearly unsocialised, and very very creepy, there’s something familiar about him which Siren would rather keep than lose. A sentiment that no one else shares. Frankly, Siren’s glad of the small certainty. At least if something goes down, there’s at least one crazy asshole in his corner.

Siren throws a glance around the office. “No Wilford?”

“He’s trying to find the Jims.” Dark grits out with barely contained restraint. He seems to be shaking, like he’s trying to hold back from throwing himself at Remus and choking the life out of him. There’d be little point. Remus would probably enjoy it and try to help.

“You didn’t tell them where babies come from did you?” Siren asks Remus sarcastically. Remus chuckles. Dark looks up, pinning the singer with a glare that normal men would wither under. Siren doesn’t even flinch.

“They asked a question,” Remus gives a shrug, as he speaks, clearly loving the drama, “I answered. I didn’t know they’d run for the hills.”

“Well that’s a lie. Everything you say is terrify-”

A high-pitched ringing fills the room, cutting them off as Dark’s aura flares behind him, lashing out and tearing holes in the walls around them, while all colour in the room vanishes. Dark is seething, his eyes gone dark, and his lips drawn into a thin line.

“If you’re quite done-!” He starts to shout but Siren raises his fist and slams it – hard – against the desk with a loud THUD.

“You’ll know when I’m done!” Siren shouts back, his colourless eyes blazing as he stares the demon down. Dark falters. “You know it’s almost cute how you think that this,” he gestures to Dark, “will scare me, but I’ve seen shit you wouldn’t believe and dealt with bigger assholes than you! So try something else or shut up!”

Remus shivers dramatically with a devilish grin, “Ooooohohoohoo. That gave me goosebumps.”

“Out.” Siren snaps throwing a thumb over his shoulder, and Remus is more than happy to oblige, blowing a kiss at Dark as he leaves.

“If Wilford has anything to say about what happened,” Siren takes his hand from the desk, as he stands up, “he has my number.”

Dark’s shock quickly dissipates and he adjusts his tie, watching Siren with curiosity. “You’re either very brave,” his voice is low, “or very stupid.”

Siren who’s already at the door on his way out, smirks.

Honestly, after everything that went down in this place, Siren would have been perfectly happy never coming back here. Would have gladly climbed into the tour bus and left this whole city in the rearview mirror never to return. But then the Harrisons threw a big old spanner in that plan. Yancy moved into the building, apparently a mutual decision with Illinois. Something about it being ‘safer’ for him. Illinois had the sense not to move in himself, always had a smart head that one, but he made it quite clear; he wasn’t going to leave Yancy.

At that point Siren’s hands were tied. Sure music has been his life as long as he can remember, he’s finally working the tour he’s always wanted, and there were a lot of people expecting him on stages across this country but he couldn’t trust these cuckoo crazies to protect his friends. A point they’d unfortunately proven when Illinois went missing while helping them out on one of their crazy adventures.

Siren had been offered his own room but he just laughed at them and walked out. No he wouldn’t stay in the building of bad guys thank you very much. Instead he parked his act in the city, touring around the various halls, bars and concert venues. It meant some serious downsizing and a lot of his crew didn’t stick around. Most of them actually, and some of the resignations were downright mean. Even Steven...Steven’s hurt the most.

As soon as that crazy blind man, the Host, found out Siren would be sticking around, he insisted the singer needed to start ‘training’. Something about ‘connecting to his true self’ and ‘reaching his real potential’. You know the kind of hokey bullshit you get from those scams masquerading as new age solutions. Turns out though, the Host is persistent and the sessions gave Siren an excuse to be in the building every week without Yancy accusing him of stifling him.

The two of them have been fighting a lot lately. Mostly Yancy wants to be left alone but Siren is no fool. When you want to be left alone, that’s when you really need someone to sit with you and remind you, it’s okay to be pissed at the world and you don’t have to be alone for it. Still Illinois had always warned Siren that when Yancy gets mad to be sure to give him space, so there’s been space.

As for how the ‘training’ is going...well at the moment it’s not. Siren has absolutely zero respect for the Host and trusts him about as much. Even ignoring the legitimate reasons not to trust him, and there are many, there’s something...off about him. Something about the guy just screams ‘big bad evil guy, do not trust unless you want to be tortured, enslaved, or vaporised’.

Which is why when the yellow android interrupted after less than ten minutes today saying Remus was in trouble, Siren noped out of there before the Host could protest. And now he’s here. Completely lost.

“Come on,” he whines to the walls, “I was summoned! Are you really going to do me dirty like this?”

They still don’t respond which Siren takes to mean yes. Five minutes he spends turning corner after corner before he finally finally finds the door he’s looking for.

As the Author, the true Author, locks eyes with him, Siren’s instinct is to step back, but Natemare stops him, softly shaking his head. Right. Supposed to be Phantom, who this guy apparently created and knows inside out. No room for slip-ups.

This plan is moronic and this is going to end badly.

That’s when strings start, soft melodic pulls, rising up and setting the scene. It’s reassuring.

“Surprised?” With a smirk, Siren raises his arms to his side, an eyebrow cocked daring the Author to challenge him.

Like a rock, the confidence drops, lips now curled in a scowl as he steps forward. “I erased you.”

Siren raises a finger at him with a scoff.

“You think I’m going down at the hands of the likes of you?

Please. I’m so much better.

Me and Natemare, we’ve come here to get you.”

To say Mare is confused would be an understatement, staring at the singer with his mouth open. With a harsh swing, the Author smacks the spirit across the face, going to swing the other way only to find the singer gone! A thwack to his back and he’s down, Siren standing over him.

“Bitch please, I’ll never follow your rules

And I’ll beat you without any kind of fancy tools

So let’s go,

Him, me, and you.

Let’s go,

Fighting one on two”

Mare cradles his face as he looks to Siren.

“Why the fuck are you singing?”

“It happens sometimes,” Siren waves dismissively, “Just go with it.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“It’ll help. Trust me.”

“You have got to be-”

With a roar, the Author punches Siren in the gut, the singer bending double, and he then swings for Mare. The spirit dodges, dropping to the ground and kicking the ass’s legs from beneath him as he sings.

“Go ahead and try to hit us if you’re able,

By the looks of it, well you ain’t very stable.”

Singing is clearly not his thing, but Mare is still smiling as he stomps on the Author’s chest.

“So the way we fight looks like it confuse ya

But I think you’re mad cause you’re an abuser.”

One hand on Mare’s ankle, the other on his knee, the Author twists. Mare goes down with a yell. Siren throws his hand out and it takes longer than it probably should for Mare to realise. With a slap, he tags Siren in.

A kick to the face, and a boot across the room, the Author is away from Mare. As he lands, he rolls. He pushes himself up. Now he looks pissed.

Siren isn’t a fighter. He’s never thrown a punch, been in a fight. That’s what security are for. So maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping, coursing, flying round his veins that makes him feel so...so...

With a grab and a yank, he drags Mare to his feet as they turn to face the Author. Siren continues,

“Go ahead, hate how we work together

Since it’s something you ain’t seen forever.”

Siren steps forward, an arm out to stop Mare from following him.

“Tear me apart, I’ll just come back newer

And I’ll always be twice the man that you were!”

‘Aggravate him,’ Phantom had said, ‘Infuriate him. Enrage him. When he gets mad, he gets sloppy.’

The Author’s movements are slow and deliberate as he rises once more. The air around them becomes heavy and empty all at once. They’ve hit a nerve. Now’s when it really starts.

“Let’s do this.” Mare mutters, and launches at him.

Cause we have hope, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

He keeps watching the others as they walk. It’s weird how similar they look right now. A gruff look, lips in a thin line, determination burning in their eyes. The only real difference is Mare looks ready to punch something, his fists clenched at his side, while Phantom doesn’t.

“You guys are really worried about him aren’t you?”

Sure, this is all about defeating the big, bad, evil guy, but it’s as much about saving the poor cyborg kid. What did they say his name was again? Bing? Probably not, Siren has never been all that great at remembering names. Thingy was always better at that than he was. Thingy….thingy doodah. He knows who he means. He thinks.

Thinking about it, beyond the poor kid being possessed and a cyborg, Siren knows nothing about who they’re trying to rescue and going by the continuing silence the others are giving to his question, he’s sure it’s going to stay like that for a while.

The further they walk, the more the darkness around them starts to morph changing into a rather dull and drab corridor with various doors around them, with a staircase about fifty feet ahead. It’s certainly not anywhere Siren recognises.

“We’re starting to enter Bing’s mind. It’s built like his home.” Phantom explains, except no he really doesn’t, though Natemare nods as though he understands. Good for him. “We don’t have long.”

Though they continue to walk, the corridor stays in place around them, becoming more and more solid until, like a rock dropping into his stomach, Siren suddenly feels his own weight as they finally cross over.

“Fuck,” he almost falls over his own feet but Mare grabs him, holding him up and tugging him upright.

“Careful.”

Phantom glances up and down the corridor, before nodding. “Okay, we have about thirty seconds before he realises we’re here so...” Phantom pinches his waistcoat just over the centre of his chest, pulling at the cloth until he draws a small red dot of light from it that pulses in his fingers as he holds it up.

“What’s tha-?” Siren starts but flinches as Phantom flicks the light at him. Siren feels himself glowing, he actually feels it though it quickly fades. “The fuck?”

Natemare raises an eyebrow as he looks at Siren. “This is your plan?”

The dream breaks, his body exploding with pain as he slowly starts to wake up. He’s had rougher Saturday mornings but that doesn’t stop the long groan he lets out as he rises up. He’s somewhere between laid down and sat up, leaning against something soft, a firm arm wrapped around him, holding him close.

“Are youse okay?”

Siren coughs a laugh and just leans into the hold. It’s okay. Yancy has him. He may not really remember what happened or know where he is, but Yancy has him so it doesn’t really matter. And if Yancy is there then Illinois isn’t too far away.

There’s a semi-coherent grumble since words are very much not happening right now. Everything hurts and aches and staying still seems oh so appealing. Then a wave of calm washes over him. Tension he hadn’t realised he was holding washes away to be replaced with a soothing, cooling reassurance that reaches from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and leaves him feeling so much better. Still rough, like he’d been through a wash cycle, but definitely better. And for some reason he can taste mint.

“Well?” A hand runs through his hair and Siren can’t help but smirk at the fact he knows those are the fingers of his favourite jailbird. “Youse gonna make me waits all day?”

“Let me ‘joy the moment.” he quietly grumbles. “I think I nearly died.”

Things are very slowly coming back to him. He remembers being on stage, about to perform. Something had happened and he was really scared for some reason. Someone tried to kill him? Something about knives. It’s not coming back very fast.

“But youse didn’.” Yancy voice rumbles in his chest and Siren sighs softly. Oh he loves that.

“Didn’t I?”

“Youse came close.” Oh yeah, he feels so comfortable, no reason to move. Nearly died? Doesn’t matter. He’s fine right now. He’s safe. He’s….

“Where are we?” It’s probably important to figure out.

“In the middle of one hell of a shitshow.”

Siren frowns. That’s not Yancy. As he slowly tears his eyes open, he blinks and waits for the world around him to come into view. To one side he sees a smartly dressed man with mint green hair and a moustache, in a blue waistcoat and a bowler hat putting something into the saddle bag at his side. But when his eyes finally find who had spoken, Siren’s mouth drops open, a look that Yancy matches.

“Holy shit!” the singer blurts out.

A very familiar figure, wearing a red shirt, and a black waistcoat stands before them. Phantom looks between them, his fingers twitching around the space where his globe staff should be.

They have to be hallucinating! This can’t be possible!

Illinois is working in some kind of admin/managerial role. It was a natural decision when everyone realised he would happily call Siren out on his bullshit, and couldn’t be sweet-talked. It’s also taken quite a load of stress off Steven’s shoulders, and he will frequently refer to Illinois as his ‘saving grace’.

Yancy was a little harder to place. Siren had wanted him in security. Partially because the guy was pretty intimidating and had a glare that could turn milk sour, and if it would’ve mostly placed him in front of the stage while Siren was performing, well that was a totally unintended benefit. Unfortunately big bro had said no, so for now he was a bit of a gofer, helping out with everything from minor haulage, to audio, to lights. And after a few stories of prison riots, they added personal security in there as well. Just in case.

After the shirt, on goes the black waistcoat and Siren runs his fingers over the fabric. A new outfit for a new character that just doesn’t want to leave his head for some reason. All week he’s been having having trouble sleeping over this reveal, waking up in a cold sweat, stomach flipping over and over. Even now, his anxiety feels higher than it should be, but he’s not worried. This isn’t his first show.

*-*

Adrenaline spikes and Siren throws himself to the floor as something attacks. It misses, thank god, and the singer hits the floor with a harsh thud.

The attacker looms over him, in black denim pants, neon-green belt, and a neon-green crop long-sleeved turtle neck. Wild brown hair with a streak of white looks really out of place when compared to his surprisingly well-groomed moustache. Though none of this really sticks in Siren’s mind as much as the unhinged smile on his face and the dagger in his hand.

“HELP!” Siren screams, praying that someone will hear him.

“A-ha!” The attacker cackles, beaming down at him, “I knew it was you!”

“STEVEN!!” Siren tries to move away but is quickly pinned in place by the attacker’s shiny black and green pleather platform boots stomping on his chest.

“You really didn’t want to be found did you, meeeeh....” he makes a sound like a distressed cow and frowns, ”Meeeh...now that is odd.”

The door slams open as Yancy bursts in, confusion quickly shifting to fury and he’s two seconds from launching himself across the room. As luck would have it, Illinois is immediately behind him and grabs his younger brother round the chest, before he can do anything stupid.

“Le’ ‘im go!” Yancy growls across the room.

“Who’s this?” The intruder almost sounds gleeful as he looks to the guests.

“Sharp?” Illinois calls.

“I don’t think I can breathe.” Siren wheezes. Being pinned isn’t so painful, but the panic is pretty high and definitely not helping.

The green weirdo leans over Siren and blows a long raspberry at him before giggling, “Always with the melodramatics.”

This is bad, Siren is under immediate threat, and while he’s managing to keep a lid on it, Illinois can feel that Yancy is on the verge of a literal meltdown if they can’t sort this out quickly.

“Are these your new friends?” the intruder gives a wink and a smirk, “You always were a charmer.”

“Ill...” Yancy mutters.

“I hear it,” Illinois responds.

All of them can hear the rock/jazz swing music that’s started up.

“What did he say about me? What did he say?

What did you do without me? What did you do?

Did you play games without me? What did you play?”

Siren covers his face with his hands and screams internally. His heart is pounding in his ears, half certain he’s about to die under this guy’s heel. Of course he’s singing! That is the only possible way this can get any worse! So of course that’s the way its going!

The boot is lifted as the intruder strides towards Yancy and illinois, looking them both over. Finally the singer is free! A window Siren intends to take advantage of.

“Did you think all this time that I wouldn't find out about you?

Fear not I know this story, been through it over and again,

And it’s nice to finally meet his other friends.”

His maniacal grin grows wider and he gives a sweeping bow, the dagger still in his hand cutting through the air.

“Make him stop, Sharp.” It’s no secret that Illinois is not a fan of the unsanctioned singing situations that seem to crop up around Siren all the time.

“You know I can’t!” Siren snaps as he drags himself to his feet. He feels about ready to throw up. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed the knife!”

“Oh hunni,” The weirdo coos as he holds the dagger aloft, “This isn’t a knife.” Hanging from his belt is a smallish leather bag which he opens up. In goes the dagger, and, somehow, out comes a shortsword! He wields it with ease as he closes the pouch again, swinging the blade at his side before raising it towards the brothers. “Now this is a knife.”

“Who are you!” Siren screams at him.

“Who am I?” he asks incredulously, “Who am I? What are you even saying?

I’m a loser of the game we didn't know we were playing.”

His eyes glaze over slightly, the music and the mania stop and for a second it looks like it’s over. All too soon though, it’s back with reinforcements.

“But you’ve found another game, one where you seem to win

Just keep in mind.”

“I’m out of my mind” Siren clutches at his head as he unknowingly joins the song, “Why did this madness begin!”

“Trust me-”

“STOP!!” Illinois’s shout shuts it all down, the singing, the music, everything ceases immediately. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting it to work. “This situation is fucked as it is, we do not need singing.”

“Well you’re no fun.” The intruder pouts.

“Who are you?” Siren demands, leaning kind of heavily against a table, arms shaking, panic still high. “What are you doing here? Why are you trying to kill me?”

The intruder stares at him, eyes narrowing as though he’s trying to see something beneath the surface.

“You’re not pretending are you?” He glances around, taking in the room as though he’s actually seeing the fear, panic, and anger he’s causing. “Oh dear.”

Moving slowly, he carefully lowers the sword to the ground before straightening up again. His hands are up, showing them he means no ill intent.

“Where are my manners?” With a rather impressive flourish he half-bows, placing a hand upon his chest. “Remus Bersk, and I’m afraid that I’ve made a terrible-where’s he going?!”

Siren has reached his limit with this bullshit. Something is wrong. Several things. Several big things with bells on and while the attempt on his life is definitely a factor, there’s something else. Something worse, and he doesn’t know what it is, or how to figure it out, or how to fix it. All he knows is he needs out of there.

When the sword is on the floor and Remus is distracted he dashes for the door and just leaves. The Harrisons shout for him but he just keeps going. He’s not sure he could explain to them anyway.

Outside the room everything’s normal, everything is in place and Siren can hear the buzz of the audience. There’s still a show waiting for him. Everything will make sense when he sings. It always does. His music always points the way.

As he reaches the wings, Stephen’s waiting and he grumbles about Siren being late again, while the prop lady pushes his globe cane into his fingers, the final part of his new outfit. Striding onto stage, he swings it in a wide circle and tries to lose himself in the moment.

The crowd goes wild and Siren can’t help the slight smirk. This is his realm. This is where things makes sense.  The band are starting up and Siren looks out over the crowd.

Even with all the noise, a quiet voice from who-the-fuck-knows-where speaks to him and chills him to the core.

I had so many plans for you, Phantom. But now you’re not worth the paper I wrote you on.

Siren frowns. Everything seems smaller than it should. The crowd is still there, his crew are in the wings…..so why has he never felt so alone? The cane slips from his fingers, though he barely notices.

Everyone knows something’s wrong when Siren misses his cue, but nobody is prepared for what happens when the cane hits the ground. Clutching at his stomach, Siren starts violently coughing, dropping to his knees. Some of those in the front row scream when they realise he’s coughing up blood.

Siren’s vision is blurred, even before his eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapses to the stage floor. There’s a lot of noise around him, screaming, a lot of panic, several sets of feet scrabbling across the stage towards him. He’s vaguely away of being shaken but Siren is barely wavering on the edge of consciousness, buried under a bone-crushing numbness that’s slowly consuming him.