#trans dimensional!silver

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

“We’ll fix this.” William promises, his arms tightly wrapped around Tobi, holding him close while Jackson stands a short way off, fiddling with the strap of his saddle bag. Tobi is holding William back with one hand, but the other is reached behind him, fingers desperately clinging to Bim’s. More than once Bim moves to gently tug his fingers from the grip but they just cling tighter and he waits, feeling a little bit like a third wheel on this private moment th at he knows Tobi’s waited nearly five years for.

Wickes turns his back, not being a very touchey-feely guy himself, wandering over to stand near Phantom, watching him with a rather annoying level of fascination. The dealmaker watches him back, daring him to make a move. Wickes honestly doesn’t care though, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at the little love fest before turning away again.

“This might go on a while.” he mutters towards Phantom. “Now may be the kindest time.”

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

William crosses the room in two huge strides, calling over his shoulder as he all but snatches Silver from the floor, lifting him into the air and beaming.

“Jackson! Wickes! He’s here! I’ve found him!”

The unstable doorway through which he just passed pulses, shifting as another shadow grows from within until, with an almighty flash-bang-crash, Jackson tumbles through. Quickly scrambling to his feet, the dapper man brushes himself down. He’s wearing a deep blue waistcoat while mint green hair pokes out from under a black bowler hat. He too sports a bushy moustache, though it’s better groomed than Will’s, while over his shoulder hangs a saddle bag that he holds close against his side. Once he’s pulled himself together, Jackson’s eyes bulge almost comically as he points in awe.

Behind him, the doorway finally stablises and Wickes simply walks through, one hand raised in the air as it glows with pure white magic. His short brown hair is almost a perfect match to Phantom’s, while his outfit is far more casual when compared to the other two. A white v-neck t-shirt with a blue button-up shirt pulled over it, torn black jeans and well-worn black boots. His sleeves are pushed back to the elbow his forearms sporting more than one tattoo and a cord necklace is looped around his neck, though the pendant is tucked beneath his shirt’s collar.

In the middle of the room, Bim is splayed on the floor, out cold. It took more than it should have to take him down and Silver could wash for a year and never clean himself of the feeling of wrong that came from knocking Bim out. Phantom stands beside him, clutching his cane and also staring at Bim.

The silence between them is tense, having lasted a good ten minutes at this point, both of them thinking on the current predicament.

“You do deals right?” Silver is the first one to speak, his voice gravelly and quiet, wary of the others sleeping in the other room, and not wanting to wake any of them. “That’s your thing.”

Phantom glances over at Silver, an unspoken accusation and general state of disapproval in his eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“We could make a deal-”

“No.” Phantom attempts to interrupt.

“-and bring Bim back.”

“I said no. I’m not a fairy godmother. My deals do not come with happy endings.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Silver shuffles in place, letting out a quiet oof as Phantom’s cane thumps him firmly in the chest. Looking up he sees the dealmaker glaring at him.

“Every choice matters.” Phantom states firmly, inarguably. “From cradle to grave, everything you do, every turn you take changes the world. Not just for you but those around you as well.” The cane moves away again, returning to being held between Phantom’s fingers. “Take it from someone the Author created to get people to make the wrong choice.”

“Created?” Silver looks across in shock. He knew the Author/Host was powerful but creating a person? “Are you sayin-?”

The kid holds a hand up to silence him. “Please don’t say it. The last thing I need is another existential crisis right now.”

The silence descends again and Silver’s eyes drift back to the unconscious body. Bim, the real Bim, would be horrified by this mess. He’s the only one in the whole building, except maybe Dark, who tries to maintain some kind of order in the mess of chaos that the others throw around. So to see him soaked through with…. Silver bows his head.

“Well then, with all offence intended, why are you here?” As much malice and spite as he can manage is stuffed into his words.

“Because hard as it may be to believe, I want to help you.”

He scoffs, oh he totally believes that. “Why?”

“…...its complicated.”

Silver turns, raising an eyebrow at the kid. Yeah that kind of vague bullshit isn’t going to fly tonight. The dealmaker shuffles under the glare, doing his best to avoid the gaze but ultimately, his shoulders sagging as he realises the hero isn’t going to let this go.

“I think I was meant to be a Faustian demon, you know. A being that comes to you offering you your deepest desires in exchange for something vital. The Author told me I was like a test. I was supposed to make people reassess their lives. Either make them grateful for what they had or punish them for having skewed priorities. And that’s how it was before Mark….” he swallows. “Before Mark took the Author’s eyes.”

“That was Mark?” Silver had always wondered about that but the others had insisted it would be rude to ask.

“Mark forced me to draft a deal with him to bring back his wife. Except it wouldn’t work. My power comes through sacrifice, and Mark had nothing left to give at that point. Just anger and pain. And when he realised I couldn’t do what he wanted....” Reaching up, Phantom absent-mindedly scratches at the side of his head. “Author had shown him how to...mess with my head. He couldn’t erase me or rewrite me but Mark could screw with me until I didn’t know what I was doing any more.

“Then one day,” Phantom snaps his fingers, “it was like I’d woken up. I still couldn’t fight Mark but I could breathe and see everything, every deal I’ve done for him for what it was. And I hated it.” He wraps his hand around the glass globe on the top of his cane and drums his fingers against it, enjoying the slight tingle the gesture gives him. “He had me watching you guys for a long time. If anyone so much as sneezed, he wanted to know. And honestly, you guys are insane. I mean certifiably cuckoo crazy bananas. None of you would last five minutes out in the real world.” The drumming stops, the dealmaker freezes and his gaze saddens as he continues to stare. “So you carved out your own little corner of reality.”

Thinking on it, it doesn’t take too long to realise what the kid is hinting at having happened and Silver can’t help the little smirk that comes as he puts it into words. “You like us.”

“I don’t know.” Phantom shakes his head. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t like what I’ve done. And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m flying through this by the seat of my pants and underneath it all, there’s this little voice,” he taps the side of his head firmly, “right at the base of my skull and I just can’t get it to shut up.”

“What’s it saying?”

“That I’m not going to survive this.” There’s an echoing ominous nature to his words, an undeniable weight to them and both of them can’t help but to shiver.

“You’re right.” Phantom looks up in horror, but Silver raises a hand to dismiss the immediate thought. “Choices do matter. If you don’t want to offer me the deal, that’s a choice. One that closes off any chance of us turning this around.”

“You don’t know that.” He can see the kid’s resolve is weakening and continues.

“If we’re going to save our family, we need Bim to do it.” If Phantom watched them he’ll have seen. He’ll know just how strangely controlled and level headed the TV show host is. How vital he is to keeping all the crazies in the ‘family’ balanced.

Phantom turns and looks purposefully in the other direction and Silver huffs a tired sigh. “At least tell me what it would take.”

For a while, the kid does nothing and Silver sighs, resigned to having to find an alternative solution when he hears the dealmaker move beside him. Opening his eyes, the hero sees Phantom stood before him, fingers twitching, cane firmly grasped in his other hand.

“This is probably going to feel weird.” is all the warning Phantom gives before firmly placing his palm on the hero’s forehead.

Silver’s eyes flutter closed as a million memories, many long forgotten all flit by at speed. He can feel the dealmaker there, leafing though every last one, looking for that vital cost, the price that could save them all.

Faces long forgotten, and others he’ll always remember pass before his eyes in the space of mere seconds as a lifetime just flies by. When Phantom draws back, the world comes back into view.

It takes a moment for Silver to come back to himself, finding a black handkerchief in front of him, offered out by Phantom as the kid looks morose. Another second and Silver realises he’s crying, snatching the hanky and purposefully turns away so his emotions have less of an immediate audience.

“Well that was an experience.” he mumbles.

Seconds feel like hours as Silver tries to compose himself, pushing away the thoughts and faces that keep trying to float to the surface. Phantom doesn’t push which doesn’t help, any kind of words would do well right now but there’s nothing and after a few deep breaths, Silver turns back.

“So what will it take?”

There’s a firm thunk as Phantom lowers his cane, the base thudding into the floor as he wraps his fingers around the globe, focusing on his fingers and refusing to meet Silver’s gaze.

Silver is perched on the end of a random table, Mad is apparently not a tidy or organised person, there being several of these around the warehouse. Bim is still on the floor out cold and Phantom is between them, slowly walking back and forth, softly but nervously swinging his cane through the air beside him as he steps. They’re otherwise silent, the low temperature and poor heating only partially responsible for the crisp chill in the air between them.

“You know what taking this deal will do to you.”

“Yeah.” Silver’s head is bowed, arms folded and eyes fixed on a point on the floor.

“So you’re not going to take it.” It’s more of a direction than a question because Phantom knows that Silver is considering it, and knows that it’s possibly the worst thing to do right now.

See usually, a soul is wholly inessential to life. Your average human can easily continue on without one, fundamentally changed from who they were as a person but still alive and able to continue. But Silver’s a special case, and giving his soul is a far steeper price.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

“LET ME GO!!”

The Host reaches to his mouth, feeling blood on his lips. King of the Squirrels took a fierce swing and knocked him to the ground and the man’s anger is coming off him in waves, pulsing out into every corner of the room. Beside the Host, Dr Iplier is trying to get a better look, but the Host easily waves him back.

Wilford is stood before the dryad, using every ounce of strength he still has, while Silver’s arms are locked around King’s shoulders. Together they are barely able to keep him back and are shouting for him to stop.

“HE DID THIS!!” King spits towards the Host. He may have only got in one punch but the Host knows that if he has his way, King will attempt to kill him. He is angry. Understandably so, but the Host is not sorry for what he has done.

Reaching out, he takes the doctor’s hand, pulling himself to his feet and standing firm, setting his chin and scowling as he faces King.

“The Host did what had to be done.”

The small group lurches as King’s rage grows and he tries again to throw himself at the Host.

“What are you talking about!”

“SAY IT!!” King screams, his words drowning out everybody else, “TELL THEM WHAT YOU DID!”

Amidst the rage, the Host feels everyone’s eyes and focus turn to him, but he doesn’t waver. He will not apologise for this.

“Mark had to be stopped.”

He feels Wilford’s resolve weaken, though he doesn’t move out of the way. “Julien?”

“Bing knew what he was doing. He chose to-”

Of course he sees the fist connect before it does, but in trying to react before it happens, it manages to catch him unawares. Wilford’s fist has a lot less sheer anger behind it but from the crunching sound as it connects, it’s probably broken his nose.

“Everybody calm the FUCK down!”

The Host tilts his head. That glitchy broken voice can belong to no one but Anti but as he looks at where it came from, as he reaches out to sense, as he tries to ‘see’, there is nothing there. It’s an empty space, a distinct lack of anything in space. Barely perceptible and impossible to follow, or truly perceive. He’s never actually paid any real attention to Anti before this moment, and he gets a brief sense that he may come to regret that in the future.

Feeling truly blind for the first time in a long while, the Host reaches for the doctor, taking his hand and looking through his friend’s eyes. Wilford and Silver are still fighting to keep King back, the dryad’s eyes practically aflame with his anger, and in the middle, arms thrown to either side, stands Anti.

“This just what that shit wants us to do.”

“Mark, or the Host?” Wilford asks.

“Fuck you!” The Host shouts at the pink ass.

Anti glitches violently and screeches. “IT DOESN’T MATTER!!” The sound is piercing and everyone winces, reaching to cover their ears. “Beating the snot out of bambi,” Anti gestures towards the Host, “isn’t going to get your friend back. So don’t waste your time.”

The room falls silent. No one can ever recall a time that Wilford has ever pointed a gun at Dark. Sure, once or twice Dark’s gotten stuck in the crossfire, but everyone’s at risk then. This....this is clearly personal.

After a moment, Ed speaks up, sitting forward.“I thought we weren’ allowed t’bring guns int’meetin’s any more.” A unanimous decision after Ed and Wilford’s many firefights. Too much risk, too much collateral damage.

“As if we can make Wilford do anything.” Silver comments from where he’s half-slumped against the table.

“Freakin’ double standard,” Ed grumbles, sitting back again.

BANG!

A shot rings out as Wilford fires into the ceiling, everyone’s hands flying to cover their ears at the sudden noise. With all their attention back to the problem at hand, Wilford aims between ‘Dark’s eyes again. “Where’s Dark?”

There’s a beat, everyone exchanging confused glances, a couple of them wondering if maybe Wilford’s lost his grip again, but he seems coherent. Everyone’s eyes come to rest on their leader, stood at the head of the table and more than one of them begins to question whether or not something more is going on here.

Mad insists on some level of privacy as he works on Google. They won’t let him take the defunct droid into any of the other rooms, but they agree to stand back while he works. The last thing he wants is a distraction from this once-in-a-lifetime, literally-never-going-to-come-around-again opportunity.

Mare pops over once or twice and says something but Mad is just consumed by the high level of technology that’s stuffing this chassis to the brim. He’s got his notebooks and writes down everything he sees, everything he finds. He’s got to find the problem but that’ll be impossible without the proper context!

It’s at least two hours later when Mad beckons them over. Silver, Bim, and Red walk up as Mad spins round, tossing a burnt out component to Silver who barely catches it.

“Good news is, I found the problem and it’s not a virus.” he’s wipes down his hands as he speaks and watches as they examine the part. Silver holds it up and turns it around, Bim looking at it in confusion while Red merely glances before turning to Mad

“So what’s wrong?”

“That,” Mad indicates the burnt-out part, “is Google’s emotional processor. Takes situational input, runs it through and produces appropriate emotional responses. Happiness, sadness, anger, outrage, despair, blah blah blah.”

“It isn’t supposed to look like this is it?” Bim asks.

Every seat is full, the Jims sharing the Host’s empty seat, Chase is stood between Silver and Bim, Marvin is stood next to the Jims, Anti isn’t too far from his brother, and Natemare is tucked away in the corner. Even the other Googles are here, gathered behind Google’s chair, no doubt conversing across their private channel.

The leader stands, hoisting himself to his feet. There was once a time where that alone would be enough to silence everyone so he could address them but it does nothing. A few of them glance at him, but the only ones to fall silent are the Jims.

It’s the loud slam of Wilford’s fist against the table that silences the room. All of them looking to the head of the table. Wilford is at Dark’s right hand, as he always is, a vacant stare on his face as he knows what’s coming. If there’s any reason Dark would avoid this conversation it would be for Wilford’s sake, but Silver’s right. They need to know.

“It has probably not escaped your various attentions that we share some common features.” his gaze passes over those of them that look the same. All but four of them. “This is not an accident.”

Dark takes a deep breath. “There is a man who has shown an interest in you all. That’s how we found you.” His eyes drift along the table, lingering for a moment on Bing. “Some of you we were late to help. So we did what we could. We brought you here because we thought we could keep you safe.” King of the Squirrels scoffs and Google pointedly pushes his glasses up his nose. Neither of them say a word, though neither of them need to. “We were wrong,”