#daniel wickes

To one side you have the other three googles, Red his usual grumpy self, Green silently cruching numbes for survival, and Oliver cradling the roomba like a soft toy. It’s likely nobody is so nervous about this as they are.

Beside them Phantom sits on the floor, a Jim at each shoulder, Marvin stood behind him, and Enis laid across his legs. The four of them had taken it upon themselves to keep an eye on the dealmaker. Then Enis found out how comfy his legs were and Phantom’s fate was sealed.

Natemare stands on his own, hands shoved in his pockets, watching Mad like a hawk.

Around the middle of the shoddy arc you have the ‘leaders’. Dark, Wilford, and the Host. You’d think they’d look more concerned but they’re all pretty stony-faced. Maybe Wilford looks a little worried but the others definitely don’t.

Bim is a little further along, looking equally solemn but less self-serving know-it-all-ism, more resigned sadness. Maybe that’s why Rowan and Yan have gravitated towards him. Of all the weirdos in this room, Bim is the most normal, not to mention clearly in need of a friend. So Yan stands beside him, with their arms wrapped around Rowan from behind .

Hiding behind them is Ed, quietly muttering about how unreliable all this new technology is, and it’s just going to just blow up in all their dang faces.

And on the far end, stands King, silent, brooding, and pissed.

Wickes, JJ, and the Colonel stand further back. They’re curious, but with no real horse in this race they don’t mind stepping back. That’s the best way to learn about this new world. Observation.

Not that they’re really paying the procedure any real attention, a little more concerned with Wickes. When you’ve been side-by-side in as many dire situations as they have, you learn to pay attention to each other. You may not see a danger but maybe one of the others does. Being able to recognise the signs can often be the difference between life or death. With his elevated breathing, nervous finger tapping, darting eyes; something is definitely up.

Jameson glances around the room as Daniel’s eyes dart again. He seems to keep rotating between those who share his face, who also seem agitated. JJ quietly snaps his fingers at William before pointing to Natemare, easily the most nervous, twitching and rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Wickes?” William asks quietly

“I don’t know.” Daniel admits, unsure of what’s unsettling him. “You grab those three.” He points to Dark, Wilford, and the Host. They’re the closest, easiest to access by the strong guy without magic.

“And Jameson?”

“Phantom can’t move.” He points towards the little pile that the Jims and Enis have made of the dealmaker and JJ nods, shuffling to move closer. “I’ll take the others.”

“What about the mechanic?”

Daniel shakes his head. “No one will beat Natemare. We’ll only get in the way.”

“Understood.” William nods. “How long do we ha-?”

“Fuck you!” before anyone has a chance to react, he’s already turned and is starting to walk away, “I’m out.”

Daniel glances to the Colonel and William’s moustache twitches as he takes a breath.

“Stop!”

His voice booms, as you would expect a Colonel’s voice to do. In the heat of battle it needs to be heard and command attention and respect. But he’s not on the battlefield now and there’s a definite softness to his tone. Still firm but not an order. More like a parent admonishing a misbehaving child, which honestly is almost exactly what’s going on.

A shudder runs down Mare’s back, his stupid kidstincts bringing him to a sudden stop and he turns.

“Don’t do that!” he snaps, but before he manages to say anything else, he feels it.

“Stronger, right?” Phantom asks.

That strange sparky static that hangs in the air when the two of them get too close; only it’s ten times stronger than when they’d been millimetres apart and there’s a good several feet between them.

“Stronger than anything I’ve felt.” Daniel nods in agreement.

Natemare turns to him confused. “You can feel it?”

“We all can.” Rowan corrects.

Now that he’s noticed it, the sensation won’t be ignored. It’s crawling beneath his skin, constantly moving and filling him from top to toes with a horrendous nervous energy. No wonder Daniel is pacing.

“Has anyone…you know?” Mare taps his fingers against his am to indicate touch.

“Oh god, no!” Daniel swipes his hands in front of him. “Until we figure this out, we have to stay back.”

“Which means behaving.” Phantom words are stern as he pins Mare with a firm glare. The spirit doesn’t meet it. Thanks to the loudmouth Jims, word has spread quickly about his distaste for Rowan.

“What about spitting?” Mare grumbles.

“I remember you being a lot nicer.” Rowan comments, grabbing for Enis as the vamp moves to stand up. Probably best to not let the two of them get into a fight, luckily it only takes a firm shoulder grip to stop him. Enis hisses protectively.

“Should we warn the others?” Daniel asks, looking between them.

“Ha!” Mare laughs, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the others. None of them seem to have noticed the small gathering going on, all busy talking or planning, or something or other, “They’ll never listen to any of us.”

“They’re pretty self-absorbed.” Phantom agrees.

Some of them are more guilty of it than others, but everyone in that building has a slight self-serving streak. A tendency to favour their family over any and all other input.

“So we do nothing?” Rowan looks uncomfortable. Neither he nor Yan has really been getting along with them, but doing nothing? He’s not sure he’s comfortable with that.

“We keep an eye on it.” Phantom says, before glaring at Mare again. “And we keep away from each other.

“I heard you the first time.” Mare snarks. “Are we done?” Without waiting for an answer, he turns his back, flipping them off as he goes. He doesn’t want to stand around being insulted any more thank you; he’ll get plenty of that when Mad finally wakes up

Daniel smirks, turning to nod at the Colonel again.

“No spitting!” William orders.

There’s no clue as to why the hell this happened. It’s not something they’ve encountered before, but the rules change with every new world they’ve passed through, and literally anything could be going wrong. Hell, JJ’s magic may not even work properly but this can’t just go untreated, they can’t leave him like this!

JJ glances around the room, eyes going wide as he catches sight of someone, pointing at them and frantically gesturing them over.

Marvin blinks while Dark, still on the floor, puts an arm out in front of the magician, gently pushing him back. Protective. Cute but not helpful. The grey man gestures for Bim to step forward instead, but JJ just cuts his hand through the air firmly and points more forcefully at Marvin.

Bim is already stepping forward, rolling up his sleeves when Wilford reaches to stop him, muttering something to Dark, the two of them arguing back and forth in harsh hushed voices. Dark hits Wilford around the head again, mumbling something back but it soon ends, Wilford turning to gesture at Marvin to step forward.

The kid seems nervous, glancing over to Bim who just folds his arms and nods. Dark doesn’t look happy but doesn’t stop him this time.

Barely two steps over, and the air between the groups crackles and splits. A green glitch appearing in the middle, one arm reaching out, pushing at Marvin’s chest, refusing to let him any further forward. He’s been tucked away, watching all this go down and like shit is he letting these weirdos near his brother.

Both JJ and the Colonel stare. JJ’s eyes are fixed on the glitch. This has to be Anti but he doesn’t understand. A glitch? Here? Protecting someone?! The Colonel’s hand on his shoulder brings him back to himself, the old man nodding towards Marvin and the glitch, before lifting Daniel from JJ’s side and moving to lay him down.

JJ stands, hand shaking. A thousand old memories buried under years of endless fighting rise to the surface. Thoughts and fears so old they might crack just from looking at them, and buried so deep, he’s practically forgotten them. Amongst all of them is him, much younger, much stupider, much more afraid and almost completely alone, stood in front of his bathroom mirror holding a knife. His reflection has one blue eye, and one that is glowing green, his lips drawn up into an unnatural smile that he knows is not his own.

The scar hidden behind JJ’s bowtie itches.

The glitch is trying to talk but the words are distorted and angry. This isn’t the glitch, at least not that one, he reminds himself. This one didn’t do all that. He didn’t nearly kill JJ, or the people JJ loved. And as Marvin grabs hold of Anti’s arm and shouts for him to move out of the way, it seems they are actually…..friends?

Anti glitches, jumping back and forth, but never moving more than a few feet from Marvin, angrily shouting and pointing at JJ. Eventually he stops, stood almost toe-to-toe with the weird newcomer and his bowler hat, glaring at him, with dangerously familiar green eyes that glow, just like that glitch’s. The two of them stare at each other for a while, and Anti doesn’t understand why this guy isn’t scared. Why doesn’t he blink, or flinch, or back down?

Seconds drag on until JJ reaches up….and flicks Anti on the nose.

Anti blinks….did he….did this guy… Anti’s eyes turn black and he raises a clawed hand about to strike.

“I̵'̢͝m̵̛ ̧̛g͞o̵̢͟i̡͢͏ng҉͢ ̷̕t͠o-̛!͜͡ ”

“Pfft...”

Anti stops, turning, eyes still black, arm still raised to see Marvin clutching two hands against his mouth, eyes crinkled as he fights to keep quiet.

“…..M̕a͡r̶vi͟ǹ?͟ ”

It lasts maybe one more second before Marvin just bursts out laughing. As in full on laughing, snorting, wheezing, the whole thing and he tries not to but he isn’t very successful and eventually gives up just full on laughing at the ridiculousness he just saw.

Dark and Anti share a look. It’s been a while since either of them have seen a genuine smile on Marvin’s face, let alone heard him laughing. It’s something the two of them had reluctantly agreed to try and work on together, before any of this nonsense went down, but neither of them are exactly rays of sunshine and then things started falling to shit.

When Anti turns back to the mint haired man, JJ gives an exaggerated shrug and his lips quirk into a smile. Part of Anti wants to just tear that look right off his face, the thought of it is very satisfying, but the other part can practically feel Marvin’s laughter reverberating through the air around him.

“F̛i̛n͞e̴.” Anti blinks, his black eyes disappearing but that murderous look is going nowhere. He moves, folding his arms and glaring at this weird mint man, “But ͠s͏o͢ ͟h҉el̶p m͢e ҉i͞f̴ ͝you hu̶rt̡ ͝him...”

To begin with he doesn’t feel anything, honestly feeling a little stupid and wondering if he’s meant to do something when the tingling creeps across his fingers. It wells up, rising slowly and as Bim has been trying to teach him, Marvin tentatively runs his fingers along the edge of the sensation.

It’s Jackson’s magic and it definitely feels unlike any other Marvin’s ever encountered, almost like it’s been locked away for a long time. It’s kind of stale, worn and weary, burdened, weighed down with who knows what, yet there’s still some bounce to it, some vigour and vibrancy that kind of hints to a better time. If Marvin had to pick a single word, he’d probably go with, nostalgia.

Something sparks and Marvin flinches. Death. Pain. Anger. Unending War. Endless Loss. All of them flit by, Marvin barely able to glimpse them before they’re gone, but Jackson brings him back, gently running his fingertips across the back of Marvin’s hands.

There are no words, probably something Jackson lost a long time ago, but there are feelings, instincts, sensations. No words, but inarguable intent. The wish to heal, to protect, to restore; the need to see Daniel well again.

Healing is something Marvin can do, a skill gained through necessity in the months….or was it years….of trying to handle Anti on his own. Like they say, practice makes perfect. Self-doubts and uncertainty rise up but Jackson’s fingers are still there grounding him. Confidence flows from them, skittering across Marvin’s skin, raising the small hairs on his arms. Jackson believes in him, but Marvin needs to trust in himself.

Moments pass before the magician focuses, calling on memories of some of those times he’s tried very hard to forget, thinking of all that Bim has managed to teach him, about ‘magical reflexes’, about guiding the magic rather than generating it, about helping rather than hurting. Everything starts to feel electric, tingling running through his body, flowing through him, down his arms into his hands as it sparks.

Blue magic flares around his hands. It’s warm. Familiar. How did he never realise that he missed this feeling? His magic, his power, flowing through him, centered on his hands. He’s too scared to look. Jackson flips both their hands over and slams them down against Wickes’s chest.

The contact hits Marvin like a bolt of lightning and he flinches, eyes shooting open and he shouts. Another crackle of static and Anti is right beside him.

The glitch’s hand is on Marvin’s shoulder, face twisted, clearly fighting the instinct to tear his brother away, but he doesn’t. Barely. The magic flows freely, from Marvin’s hands, disappearing into Wickes’s chest and the color in his face slowly returns.

Jackson watches him closer and William calls Wickes’s name, both of them desperate for a response. It feels like eons before there’s a shifting beneath Marvin’s hands and Daniel gives a laboured groan. Jackson immediately pulls back, and before Marvin has a chance to do the same, Anti has wrapped both arms around his brother from behind and they glitch a few feet away. Marvin has to hold his stomach to keep from vomiting at the strange unnatural movement, but everyone watches with bated breath.

Eyes still closed, Wickes raises his arm, reaching for Jackson who takes the outstretched limb and leans in. Wickes mutters something that none of the witnessing egos can hear but to which Jackson nods. William reaches to pull Wickes’s arm away, gently telling him off for moving when he’s clearly still unwell and the boy doesn’t protest, allowing himself to be guided to a more comfortable upright position. He still looks like he might pass out at any given moment.

Jackson looks to William who nods, the two of them sharing an unspoken understanding as the mint-haired mute stands, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a small glass globe vial. It’s filled with a bottle green liquid that sloshes around as he moves it. Another nod from William and Jackson steps back throwing the bottle to his feet where it smashes, releasing a thick green smoke that rises to consume him. Moments later when it clears, Jackson is gone.

Anti tightens his hold around Marvin’s chest, moving to pull his brother another step away as he growls.

The car stops, the dust settles, everyone’s in shock. The passenger door opens before slamming shut.

Illinois Harrison looks like shit. Dishevelled button-up shirt, creased pants, scruffy hair beneath a crumpled sable fedora that he’s plucks from his head and starts to straighten it out. Barely two steps from the car, he turns and shouts.

“Whose goddamn idea was it to let you drive!”

The driver’s side door rattles but seems to be stuck, so down rolls the window, and wild brown hair with a white steak emerges as the driver reaches to pull himself out head first. Halfway out, far enough to show off his neon-green crop long-sleeved turtle neck, he twists around, grabbing the roof of the car to pull himself to sit in the door frame. His black denim pants barely cover his ass, probably only just held in place by his equally neon-green belt.

“You drive like my dead grandma!” Remus slams his fist against the roof of the car before jabbing a finger at him.

Everyone stares but it’s Mare who shouts what everyone’s thinking.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

It takes 0.2 secs for the room to dissolve into chaos. Everyone is talking at once and it’s impossible to pick out any one thread of intent. I can however confirm that Remus described at least seven of the strangers around him as ‘sexy’. Most likely it was more but I only managed to count seven. Believe me when I say this is headache-inducing and playing havoc with my tinnitus.

It goes on for several minutes and I question more than once whether I could order a pizza to the non-descript dilapidated warehouse on the far side of town, the one with a new hole in the wall, while I wait this out. The arguing stops replaced by screams. Everyone turns.

The back door of the car is open, Daniel stood beside it his hands clutching at his head. Looking around, Natemare, Rowan, and Phantom are also visibly wincing and holding their heads. They’re the ones who were screaming.

Inside the car sits, Yancy Harrison, escaped convict and Illinois’s younger brother sits, a young man with short dark hair and a worryingly familiar face laid out on the seat beside him, head resting in Yancy’s lap. He’s unconscious.

“Hey!” Illinois bangs on the roof of his car, jabbing a finger at the intruder, “Stay outta there!”