Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[THE FOOTAGE STARTS.]

[Niki] “Jack, are you filming?” 

[THE CAMERA IS FACING AWAY FROM WHOEVER IS SPEAKING. IT IS POINTING AT THE INSIDE OF CAR WINDOW, BUT THE GLARE MAKES IT IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE THROUGH IT.]

[Jack] “What, this is interesting!”

[Niki] “Do they not have forests in England?”

[Jack] “Not like this!”

[THE CAMERA PRESSES AGAINST THE GLASS. THE FOOTAGE IS SHAKY, AND THE SURROUNDINGS ARE DARK, BUT IT IS CLEARLY SOME SORT OF FOREST. BY THE WAY THE CAMERA KEEPS MOVING ERRATICALLY, IT IS CLEAR THAT WHATEVER PATH THE CAR IS ON IS PROBABLY NEAR ENTIRELY MADE OF POTHOLES.]

[Niki] “We’re almost there, anyway, I recognise this area.”

[Jack] “Recognise it? It’s pitch black! And trees! There’s literally nothing to recognise!”

[Niki] “That’s because you’re looking out of the side of the window. Look forward.”

[THE CAMERA TURNS SHAKILY. THERE IS A BRIEF VIEW OF THE INTERIOR OF THE CAR, REVEALING A BOBBLE-HEADED FIGURE OF A CAT ON THE DASHBOARD. IT THEN ZOOMS IN THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN. A FULL MOON HANGS HIGH IN THE SKY, THE WHITE LIGHT SILHOUETTING A HOUSE ON A HILL IN THE DISTANCE.]

[Niki] “Do you see now?”

[Jack] “...Ah.”

[THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON THE HILL. THERE IS A SMALL FIGURE MOVING BY THE HOUSE, BUT IT IS SO SMALL IT IS NEARLY UNNOTICEABLE]

[Jack] “Hey, this is in the middle of nowhere, right? Is there electricity? Food? Has anyone even been here in years?”

[Niki] “Well, my Tante Zsuzsa lived here up until last year when she had her fall, and I think she called in some cleaners to give it its last spring clean back in January, so…”

[Jack] “God… Please tell me it’s not going to be full of spiders…”

[Niki] “Oh, that’s the least terrifying thing about the place.”

[THE CAMERA FRANTICALLY PANS TO NIKI. SHE IS DRIVING CALMLY, DESPITE THE CONSTANT JOLTING OF THE CAR ON THE COUNTRY ROAD, WITH AN EVIL SMIRK ON HER FACE.]

[Jack] “Niki. Niki. Is there something you should have told me back when we were planning this trip that you’ve been hiding for the past five months?”

[Niki] “Oh, don’t worry, it’s not anything important…”

[SHE LEANS IN CLOSER TO JACK, GLANCING AT HIM]

[Jack, hissing] “Keep your eyes on the road!”

[Niki] “It’s just that the house is haunted.”

[THERE IS A PAUSE. THE CAMERA FLIPS. JACK HAS A FACE OF DISGUST AND BETRAYAL, AS WELL AS GENERALLY LOOKING LIKE HE IS SLEEP DEPRIVED.]

[Jack] “And you’re telling me this now!?”

[Niki] “I didn’t want to scare you! It’s just stories, anyway.”

[JACK FLIPS THE CAMERA BACK TO NIKI.]

[Jack] “Care to tell me what these stories are?”

[Niki] (laughs) “Oh, nothing much, just my great-great-great-uncle’s wife’s brother? Yeah, her brother, a bunch of people were killed over the course of two days in the building. That’s how the house ended up in my family.”

[Jack] “What.”

[Niki] “It’s kind of interesting, right?”

[Jack] “I thought it was going to be something stupid, like– like– I don’t know, something daft like oh, a candle went out on its own one time, not a fucking mass murder!?”

[Niki] “They never caught the killer, either. Some say it was my great-great-great-uncle - well, technically, he’s my great-great-great uncle’s wife’s brother’s best friend, but that’s a lot of words - anyway, they say it was his best friend, others say it was him, but it doesn’t really matter all that much, seeing as it’s so long ago. The only actual evidence they had was the letters that they sent.”

[THE CAMERA FLIPS BACK TO JACK. IF HE DIDN’T LOOK HORRIFIED BEFORE, HE WAS HORRIFIED NOW.]

[Jack] “Niki, Niki, why the fuck are we going here!?”

[Niki] “Because going on holiday is expensive and this option was free.”

[JACK GLANCES AT THE CAMERA.]

[Jack] “When we die, remember me for–”

[TWO SMALL CIRCLES FLASH IN THE FOREST BEHIND JACK]

[Jack] “What the fuck was that!?”

[Niki] “What was what?”

[Jack] “I just saw eyes in the forest!”

[Niki] “Jack, that is a deer.”

[Jack] “This is your fault! You’re the one that fucking… started with all of those murders!”

[Niki] “I didn’t think you’d believe me! Anyway, we’re basically here.”

[THE CAMERA FLIPS BACK TO THE ROAD. THE HEADLIGHTS OF THE CAR HAVE HIGHLIGHTED AN OLD, GOTHIC GATE, THE PAINT PEELING. NIKI OPENS THE DRIVER’S DOOR AND GETS OUT.]

[Jack] “Niki–”

[Niki, voice muffled as she is outside the car] “Jack, there’s not actually ghosts here.”

[NIKI PULLS OUT A KEY FROM THE POCKET OF HER HOODIE, FIDDLING WITH THE LARGE PADLOCK HOLDING THE GATE CLOSED.]

[Jack] “What about bears!?”

[Niki] “Well, the bears can’t get us once we’re inside.”

[JACK MAKES A HORRIFIED NOISE. THE CHAIN HOLDING THE GATE CLOSED CLATTERS TO THE FLOOR, AND THE OLD HINGES SCREAM AS NIKI HEAVES THE DOOR OPEN.]

[Jack] “Jesus Christ, everything in a five mile radius will’ve heard that.”

[NIKI SHAKES HER HEAD, AND WALKS BACK TO THE CAR, CLIMBING IN AND MOVING THE CAR FORWARDS WITHOUT SHUTTING THE DOOR. THE CAMERA FOLLOWS HER AS SHE GETS BACK OUT, DISAPPEARING FROM VIEW AS SHE’S BLOCKED BY THE HEADREST BEFORE REAPPEARING IN THE BACK WINDOW, HEAVING THE GATES BACK CLOSED. THEY MAKE AN EQUALLY TERRIBLE SOUND CLOSING AS THEY DO OPENING. TWO CIRCLES FLASH ON THE ROAD BEHIND THE GATE.]

[Jack, hissing] “Niki! Niki! Get back in here! There’s something on the road.”

[NIKI DOES NOT HEAR JACK, WALKING BACK TO THE CAR AT A NORMAL PACE. THE CIRCLES FLASH AGAIN, THIS TIME CLOSER, AND THERE IS THE SOUND OF THE CAR DOOR CLOSING AS NIKI PRESUMABLY GETS BACK IN.]

[Jack] “Niki, there is something in those woods.”

[Niki] “Even if it is something like a bear, the entire perimeter is surrounded by a seven foot tall stone wall. No bears are going to get in here.”

[Jack] “Niki, I don’t think that was a bear.”

[Niki] “What, was it the ghost of my great-great-great uncle’s wife’s brother?”

[Jack] “Don’t mock me!”

[NIKI LAUGHS.]

[Niki] “Sorry, sorry, it was just too easy.”

[THEY DRIVE IN SILENCE FOR A WHILE, NOT MUCH VISIBLE OTHER THAN THE SILHOUETTE OF THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. IT IS OBVIOUS NOW THAT IT IS ABSOLUTELY MASSIVE, ECLIPSING ALL LIGHT FROM THE MOON. AS THE CAR DRIVES FORWARDS, IT PASSES A LARGE STONE PLAQUE, ENGRAVED WITH THE WRITING: [Das Herrenhaus des Nihachu]]

[Niki] “We’re almost there, can you get my bag from the back?”

[THE CAMERA IS PLACED FACE-DOWN ON JACK’S LAP.]

[Jack] “What am I looking for?”

[Niki] “Keys, you’ll know which ones.”

[THERE IS THE SOUND OF JINGLING AS JACK DIGS IN NIKI’S BAG.]

[Jack] “Niki, the fuck is this?”

[Niki] “Oh, that’s a taser.”

[Jack] “What.”

[Niki] “Don’t pull off the cap or it might turn on.”

[JACK PICKS UP THE PHONE AGAIN, FLIPPING THE CAMERA SO THAT IT IS FACING HIM WITH THE TASER HELD UP BY HIS FACE. HE MAKES A TERRIFIED EXPRESSION, GLANCING BETWEEN NIKI AND THE TASER.]

[Niki] “It’s for self defence, Jack, don’t worry about it.”

[Jack] “I will worry about it, I’m stuck living with you for like a month. What if you taser me in my sleep!?”

[JACK FLIPS THE CAMERA BACK AT NIKI, WHO LOOKS FAIRLY AMUSED.]

[Niki] “If I was going to kill you it wouldn’t be in your sleep, Jack. Where’s the fun in that?”

[Jack] “I’m really feeling safe right now. You’re really helping me feel safe.”

[Niki, quietly] “They wouldn’t find your body.”

[Jack] “What?”

[Niki] “We’re here! Did you find the keys?”

[Jack] “The really massive ones, right?”

[Niki] “Those are the ones.”

[JACK TURNS THE CAMERA BACK TO THE HOUSE. THE CAR IS CLOSE ENOUGH THAT THE HEADLIGHTS ARE LIGHTING UP THE FRONT DOOR. IT’S INCREDIBLY OLD FASHIONED, WITH A NORMAN ARCH AND A BIG, HEAVY DOOR, A KNOCKER WITH AN EAGLE HEAD SAT IN THE DEAD CENTRE.]

[Jack] “This place couldn’t be creepier if it tried.”

[Niki] “It’s a lot nicer in the day, trust me. Help me with the bags?”

[NIKI CLIMBS OUT OF THE CAR. THERE IS A BRIEF MOMENT OF SILENCE, VERY CLEAR THAT JACK IS STRUGGLING TO TURN OFF THE RECORDING.]

[RECORDING END]

“How do we turn the lights on?” Jack asks, using his phone torch to shine around the hallway. They’ve only just finished dragging all of their bags in, dumping them in a pile, and Niki has locked both the car and the front door.

“Oh, there’s no electricity,” Niki says. Jack stares at her. She doesn’t seem to notice, digging around in her handbag until she pulls out a lighter.

Not one of the tiny ones. It’s one of the massive ones with the long noses that people use to light shit that you can’t put your hands anywhere near. What didn’t Niki have in her bag?

“We probably shouldn’t light too many lamps seeing as we’re just going to go to sleep today,” she says, sticking the lighter through one of her belt loops like a gun into its holster. 

“And where are we sleeping?” Jack asks.

“My Tante said we could have any of the rooms,” Niki says. “They’re all somewhere in the West Wing.”

Jack looks around, panning his phone torch. It doesn’t pierce very well into the empty hallway, just enough to make out the painting at the very end of it.

It’s freaky. There’s one man, sitting in a chair with a cigar in his hand, looking cockily out of the painting with his eyes squinted in a way that makes them feel like they’re following you. His hands are a normal flesh tone, but his face was red, almost purple in some places. It takes Jack a second to figure out why: what he at first had thought was a necklace was two hands, wrapped around the man’s neck, and he follows them up to their source. There, behind the chair, is a dark shadow, barely anything visible other than two white eyes, far too realistic compared to the rest of the painting.

“What the fuck is that?” Jack asks. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of it: it feels like if he turns his back, the person in the background is going to jump out at them.

“Oh, that’s my great-great-great-uncle’s wife’s brother, Jebidiah Schlatt,” Niki replies.

Okay, he’s just going to call him her great-great-great uncle from that point. That was way too many words.

“What about the guy behind him?”

“Where?” Niki asks.

Jack looks back at the painting. Schlatt’s face is no longer red, now the same colour as his hands, and there is nothing behind him. 

Jack doesn’t say anything. He makes do with freaking out internally. 

“We can unpack in the morning, I’m just going to grab my sleep stuff and go up to the rooms,” Niki says. “Most of the rooms here have big windows so it’ll be a lot easier to see.”

“Okay,” Jack croaks, still staring at the painting. All of a sudden it feels like he’s being watched.

[THE RECORDING STARTS. IT IS NOW IN A BEDROOM: THE FURNITURE IS OLD-FASHIONED, VISIBLE BEHIND JACK, AND THE ONLY LIGHTING IN THE ROOM IS A GAS-LAMP ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE.]

[Jack] “Right, so, Niki thought that I wouldn’t want to share a bed with her, which I didn’t, at least not originally, but now I’m kind of regretting that because this place is fucking creepy.”

[THE CAMERA FLIPS. JACK PANS IT, SO THAT THERE IS A FULL VIEW OF THE ROOM. JACK HIMSELF IS IN A LARGE, FOUR-POSTER BED WITH THE CURTAINS STILL TIED UP. THERE IS A MASSIVE WARDROBE, ALONG WITH THE DOOR OF A DUMB WAITER, AND A LARGE VANITY, WHICH IS HUNG WITH DUSTY JEWELLERY.]

[Jack] “Niki’s taken the master bedroom, and she said this one belongs to her great-great- grandmother, Jebidiah Schlatt’s sister, and she did say that no one was murdered in this room but I don’t fucking believe her.”

[JACK PANS THE CAMERA FURTHER. THERE IS A LARGE WINDOW, SPANNING NEARLY THE ENTIRE WALL, TWO OF THE PANELS MADE OF STAINED GLASS. BELOW IT IS A WRITING DESK, A LONG-DRIED-UP POT OF INK ON TOP OF IT, AS WELL AS STACKS AND STACKS OF LETTERS.]

[Jack] “I think the cleaners lied when they said they’d cleaned this place, because it’s so fucking dusty, it’s insane.”

[Jack] “I shook the dust off of one of the letters on the table which was pretty interesting, stuck that in Google Translate.”

[Jack] “Schlatt’s sister is apparently really intense.”

[Jack] “No clue why her own letters are in her room. Someone probably moved them to the desk at some point, don’t know why. I’m gonna try to read through them.”

[THE VANITY, VISIBLE IN THE CORNER, FLASHES AS THE CAMERA SHIFTS A BIT. WHEN IT SHIFTS BACK, THERE IS A MAN THERE, STARING OUT AT JACK. JACK DOESN’T SEEM TO NOTICE.]

[Jack] “Anyway, I’m going to sleep, if I don’t wake up, the ghosts got me.”

[THIS TIME, IT ONLY TAKES JACK A SECOND TO STOP THE RECORDING.]

Schlatt,

If that goddamn freak Wilbur isn’t out of your house when I get there, I’m going to fucking kill him myself. Literally all that guy does is eat fucking sand, like his girlfriend is just sat there half the time trying to have a fucking conversation but all of his replies are something about silt and grain size and it’s actually fucking annoying. If he’s at your house when I get there I’m never going to visit you ever fucking again.

Also, if you’re drinking, I’m going to fucking smash all of the shit in your wine cellar. Quackity’s a saint for putting up with you when you’re drunk and it’s not fair on him. Treat the guy with a little respect, he puts up with enough.

I’ll be over the day after tomorrow, 

Minx.

Chapter Text

Jack wakes up to the feeling of being choked.

There’s a searing pain through his chest, like he’s been stabbed, and he’s forced back into his bed like someone’s got their full weight on his neck. He can’t open his eyes: they just won’t open, like they’re glued shut. With one hand he tries to claw at the hands around his neck, swiping out with the other. Neither of his hands come in contact with anything.

Then, the hands release, and he hears a choked off sob. He heaves in a breath, eyes flying open, and…

Sometimes, when you’re dreaming, it can be hard to figure out up from down. Sometimes, you expect gravity to pull you one way, but it pulls the other, and it takes you a second to figure out where you are.

Jack thinks he was meant to be lying down. 

He was sitting.

“Oh, hello, Jack,” Niki calls out, standing in the doorway. “I was just going to make breakfast.”

He–

Jack–

He isn’t in the bedroom. He’s in an armchair, slouched, in some sort of sitting room, morning light filtering in and lighting up the dust in gold. Niki’s already walked past, and he can hear the sound of a gas stove being turned on, and the clanking of utensils.

Jack was moved. Something had moved him.

He reaches up to his neck. Surely, that was–

He hisses as his hands touch his neck. It felt bruised. But there was no way it was bruised. He couldn’t remember a single thing he’d done that would bruise his neck – surely he was just making shit up.

Okay. Okay. It was probably just in his head, all he needed to do was have a look, and then he’d have his answers.

He pulled out his phone, flipping his camera and taking a look. With how he was slouched, his hoodie had covered it from Niki’s view, but not from his own: a massive bruise, spanning his entire neck like a collar, fingerprints evident in the patterning.

Shit.

“Niki? Niki?” he called out, rushing to the kitchen.  

Niki was in the kitchen, with the bacon and eggs they’d brought with them, pushing them around a pan. “What, did my great-great-great uncle ge– Holy shit, what happened to your neck!?”

“I don’t know!” Jack cried out. “It was like this when I woke up! I woke up in that chair by the way, which was not where I fucking fell asleep!” 

Niki was staring at him with wide eyes, spooked. “There’s got to be some sort of explanation, maybe someone in the house or something, or you were sleepwalking.”

“What, and I just strangled myself?” 

“I don’t know!” she snapped. “Look, let’s share a bedroom tonight. At the very least, until we find out what’s going on, we should stick together.”

[THE RECORDING STARTS. JACK IS WALKING AROUND THE HALLS, THE CAMERA PANNING LEFT AND RIGHT SEMI-FRANTICALLY.]

[Jack] “Right, so despite saying that apparently we should stick together, Niki has sent me - alone! - to go get wine from the wine cellar because she wants to boil pears in it or something.”

[Jack] “I do not know where it is, but I have the key, and I have instructions to find something as old as humanly possible.”

[THE CAMERA PANS DOWN TO JACK’S FREE HAND. HE IS CLUTCHING A LARGE, SOMEWHAT RUSTY KEY. WHEN HE TAKES A STEP, IT IS POSSIBLE TO SEE THERE IS A FAIRLY SHITTY KITCHEN KNIFE PUSHED THROUGH THE LOOP OF HIS JEANS.]

[HE TURNS A CORNER, INTO THE SAME HALLWAY HE ENTERED THE HOUSE THROUGH. SCHLATT’S PORTRAIT STILL HANGS PROUD. JACK FLIPS IT OFF.

[Jack] “Fuck you, and your stupid haunted house.”

[HE KEEPS WALKING FORWARDS, REACHING THE SCHLATT PORTRAIT. THERE ARE TWO WAYS HE COULD GO: LEFT AND RIGHT. HE PANS BETWEEN THEM, THE LEFT GOING INTO A WELL-LIT HALLWAY, WHEREAS THE RIGHT LEADING INTO A DEAD END, A BIG HEAVY DOOR WITH A LARGE KEYHOLE BLOCKING THE WAY.]

[JACK HOLDS THE KEY UP SO THAT THE KEY AND THE DOOR ARE VISIBLE SIDE-BY-SIDE.]

[Jack] “If I die, blame Niki.”

[THE PHONE DISAPPEARS INTO JACK’S POCKET. A FEW SECONDS LATER, THERE IS THE DULL SOUND OF A KEY GOING INTO A LOCK, AND INDISCERNIBLE SWEARING, BEFORE THERE IS A LOUD ‘THUD’]

[Jack] “Shit, are doors meant to make that noise?”

[THE CAMERA LIFTS TO FACE THE DOOR.]

[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN.]

[Jack] “If there’s something in this fucking basement and it kills me, I am going to crawl out of hell and take Niki with me.”

[JACK TURNS THE FLASHLIGHT ON AND STARTS TO WALK IN. THE CAMERA PANS AROUND: THERE IS A STAIRCASE LEADING DOWN, NEARLY EVERY CORNER COVERED IN THICK COBWEBS. JACK’S FOOTSTEPS ECHO LOUDLY AS HE DESCENDS.]

[Jack] “Oh, they have pears in the garden, I can make pears in wine sauce– How about YOU get the wine…”

[THE STAIRCASE ENDS. JACK’S PHONE TORCH DOES NOT PENETRATE VERY FAR INTO THE DARKNESS, BUT A FEW THINGS ARE EASY TO MAKE OUT. THERE ARE ROWS UPON ROWS OF WINE RACKS. ONE HAS BEEN KNOCKED OVER, RED STAINS BARELY VISIBLE ON THE SAND FLOOR.]

[Jack] “Looks like Jebidiah Schlatt was quite the alcoholic.”

[Jack] “Anyway, let’s get that wine bottle and get out of here.”

[JACK WALKS FORWARDS. AT ONE POINT, THERE IS A CLINKING SOUND, AND HE POINTS THE CAMERA DOWN TO REVEAL A BUNCH OF GLASS SHARDS. HE POKES THEM WITH THE TOE OF HIS ADIDAS SHOES.]

[THE CAMERA PANS BACK UP, AND HE WALKS UP TO ONE OF THE RACKS. BRIEFLY, BEHIND THE RACK, THERE IS THE FLASH OF TWO WHITE SPOTS.]

[JACK PICKS UP A WINE BOTTLE.]

[Jack] “Okay, let’s see what date this–”

[AS HE PICKS IT UP, SAND SPILLS OUT OF THE NECK.]

[Jack] “What the fuck.”

[HE TILTS IT DIRECTLY UPRIGHT. SAND KEEPS POURING AND POURING, UNTIL IT STOPS. JACK DOESN’T MOVE FOR A SECOND. HE THEN FRANTICALLY PICKS UP ANOTHER WINE BOTTLE, TURNING IT UPRIGHT–]

[MORE SAND.]

[Jack] “Okay, what the actual hell.”

[HE PICKS UP ANOTHER. SAND. HE PICKS UP ANOTHER. SAND. SOMEWHERE IN THE BACKGROUND, THERE IS A CLATTER, BUT HE IGNORES IT, CONTINUING TO GO THROUGH THE BOTTLES.]

[Jack] “Jesus Christ. Okay, that’s it, if Niki wants wine she can get it herself, I’m not bothering with this shit.”

[JACK, WITH THE PACE OF SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO GET OUT OF A DARK BASEMENT, SPRINTS BACK TO THE STAIRS. THERE IS A BRIEF MOMENT BEFORE HE GETS TO THE STAIRCASE THAT THE SILHOUETTE OF A PERSON CAN BE SEEN HUNCHED BEHIND ONE OF THE RACKS.]

[RECORDING END.]

“Holy shit,” Niki says, watching the video on Jack’s phone. They’re both sitting in the kitchen, potatoes boiling on the stove somewhere behind them, and all of the cupboards are hanging wide open. The bin is in the middle of the kitchen, Niki having been busy throwing out all of the mouldy shit in there. Apparently, her Tante Zsuzsa had not had anyone clean out the cupboards.

Also, the cleaners hadn’t touched it. Evidently, they were really fucking shit at their job.

“I’m going down there,” Niki said, holding her hand out. Jack passes her a knife. She shoves it through her belt loop. “Someone has definitely gotten in at some point, the question is how long ago was it. Tante Zsuzsa only drank beer, so it couldn’t have been her…”

Niki marches out of the room.

“Hey, my phone!” Jack calls after her.

“I need it for light!” she calls back.

“YOU HAVE YOUR OWN!”

Niki does not respond, and Jack - now paranoid - grabs himself a knife too, standing with his front facing the kitchen door as he stirs the potatoes in the pan.

Half an hour later, Niki reemerges. She’s covered head-to-toe in dust, clutching a wine bottle in one hand and Jack’s phone in the other, a half-feral look in her eyes.

“Find anything?” Jack asks. She just raises her wine bottle into the air, slamming it down on the table, and flops into a chair.

“Well– I found that there was no evidence of a break-in whatsoever,” she says, shaking the dust off of her hands and starting work on popping the cork off of the wine bottle. “Which, considering that there’s only one copy of that key and it was hidden in the most obscure drawer in the master bedroom, means that hopefully one of the previous homeowners thought it would be funny.”

Maybe it was his sister, Jack thinks, remembering the letter from yesterday. He doesn’t say it, though: Niki might not be happy that he’s reading her dead great-great grandmother’s correspondences. 

The cork pops off, Niki setting it down on the table. She sniffs the bottle. Finding it adequate, she gets up, pulling a saucepan out of the pan drawer and setting it on the stove.

“Did you clean the pans?” Jack asks. He wasn’t gone for that long, but maybe she’d washed them while Jack was in the process of getting choked out by his own imagination.

“No, they were already clean, some of the cupboards just aren’t very dusty,” Niki replies.

“Huh,” Jack answers. Well, considering the cellar is full of bottles of sand, it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen around.

[THE RECORDING STARTS.]

[IT’S OUTSIDE. THE CAMERA SHAKES, THE MIC GOING STATIC AS WIND BLOWS INTO IT, FACING AN OPEN FIELD. IT FLIPS FOR A SECOND, FACING JACK, AND THE MANOR IS VISIBLE NOT FAR BEHIND IT.]

[Jack] “Apparently, we’re actually right by the ocean.”

[Jack] “I have just been informed of this now.”

[Jack] “It would’ve been nice if Niki could’ve warned me beforehand so that I could’ve brought my trunks, but apparently the weather isn’t nice enough at this time of year.”

[Jack] “I don’t believe her though.”

[JACK CONTINUES ONWARDS. THERE IS NOTHING VISIBLE EXCEPT THE OVERGROWN GRASS, AND, NOT TOO FAR INTO THE DISTANCE, A SINGLE TREE. JACK IS STILL TALKING, BUT IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO DISCERN OVER THE WIND.]

[Jack] “–so we’re planning to drive down to the local village to do some shopping.”

[JACK IS NEAR THE TREE NOW. THE GROUND AHEAD CURVES NOTICEABLY UPWARDS. ABOUT TWENTY METRES AHEAD, THE GROUND ABRUPTLY STOPS.]

[THE CAMERA SHAKES AS JACK RUNS FORWARDS. HE PASSES THE TREE, AND CONTINUES FORWARDS BEFORE SLOWING DOWN. NOW VISIBLE IS A CLIFF, THE DARK OCEAN SPLASHING BELOW IT, JACK TAKING A FEW STEPS BACK.]

[Jack] “Okay, the way Niki was talking about it, it sounded a lot more like a beach.”

[JACK ZOOMS IN, PANNING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT. THERE IS IN FACT A BEACH, SOMEWHERE FAIRLY FAR TO THE LEFT, AND JACK ZOOMS IN ON IT. IT JUTS OUT SLIGHTLY FROM THE FOREST, AND IS BLURRY WITH DISTANCE, BUT IT IS POSSIBLE TO MAKE OUT A PERSON STANDING THERE. BIRDS FLOCK AROUND THEM, AND THEIR CLOTHES BILLOW SPECTACULARLY IN THE WIND.]

[Jack] “How the fuck do you get down there..?”

[JACK TURNS THE CAMERA THE OTHER DIRECTION. ALL THERE IS ON THAT SIDE IS MORE CLIFFS AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE.]

[SEAGULLS ARE FLYING CLOSE TO THE OCEAN WATER, OCCASIONALLY SWOOPING UP INTO THE SKY. DOWN, CLOSER TO THE OCEAN, A DARK, MASSIVE, BARELY VISIBLE SHAPE DARTS AMONG THEM.]

[Jack] “It’s bloody cold out here, Jesus Christ.”

[Jack] “Niki might actually have been right about the whole too cold to swim thing.”

[JACK TURNS BACK TO FACE THE MANSION, WALKING FORWARDS. IN ONE OF THE SECOND FLOOR WINDOWS, THERE IS A FIGURE MOVING.]

[Jack] “Huh, what’s Niki doing upstairs?”

[HE ZOOMS IN. NOTHING IS VISIBLE BUT A VAGUE SHAPE THROUGH THE SHEER NET CURTAINS.]

[THE CAMERA PANS DOWN, TO THE KITCHEN. THE BLINDS ARE NOT DRAWN, AND THROUGH THE WINDOWS IT IS POSSIBLE TO SEE NIKI, A BANDANA TIED AROUND HER HEAD TO KEEP HER HAIR OUT OF HER EYES, DANCING AS SHE STIRS A PAN.]

[Jack] “Oh my god.”

[Jack] “Oh fuck.”

[JACK BREAKS INTO A SPRINT.]

[Jack] “NIKI!”

[Jack] “NIKI!”

[THE ONLY SOUNDS ARE JACK’S PANTING AND THE WIND IN THE MICROPHONE, THE CAMERA A MESS OF MOTION BLURS AS HE RUNS. OCCASIONALLY, A GARBLED CRY OF NIKI’S NAME CAN BE HEARD, JACK STILL RUSHING FORWARDS.]

[THE CAMERA STABILISES. JACK IS RIGHT OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN, KNOCKING ON THE WINDOW FRANTICALLY. NIKI JUMPS, STARTLED, CEASING HER DANCING. She opens the window.]

[Jack] “THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE FUCKING HOUSE.”

[Niki] “What–”

[Jack] “THERE IS SOMEONE. IN THE FUCKING HOUSE. AND IT’S NOT US.”

[NIKI’S BROW FURROWS. HER FACE IS HALF-DISBELIEF, HALF VERY REAL WORRY. SHE PUSHES THE WINDOW FURTHER OPEN, REACHING A HAND OUT, AND JACK TAKES IT. SHE DRAGS HIM IN OVER THE SINK.]

[Niki] “Jack, are you sure you’re not being paranoid?”

[Jack] “No, I am not being paranoid, I have literal video evidence!”

[JACK TUMBLES TO THE FLOOR AND FULLY INTO THE KITCHEN. THE CAMERA SHAKES, AND WHEN IT STABILISES, IT’S POINTING TO THE FLOOR.]

[Jack] “Here, give me a minute–”

[THE RECORDING ENDS.]

“I’m going to lock every door in the house,” Niki says, handing Jack back his phone. “If there is someone in here with us, we need to stop them from leaving, and then call the police.”

“Okay. Okay. That sounds good,” Jack says. “How many doors in the house lock?”

“All of them.”

Niki’s knowledge of the house impresses Jack, as she pulls the keys from her pocket. The only places he’s been so far are the kitchen, Schlatt’s sisters room, the room in which he woke up being choked, and the various hallways and staircases connecting them. Oh, and the wine cellar, though, like the ‘choking room’, he was doing his best not to think about it.

They head out of the kitchen and into the main hallway, Niki locking doors as she went. There are two bathrooms, several rooms with just tables and chairs, a room which was covered in sheets, and a room that Niki didn’t even bother trying to lock.

“Aren’t you going to lock that one?” Jack asks, pointing to the door of the room they’ve just passed. It’s by the staircase that they’d used when they had been lugging all of their shit upstairs.

Niki steps forwards, trying the handle. It doesn’t budge. “That one’s always been locked, the room’s said to be cursed.”

“...Why?” Jack asks, despite knowing that given that that question was being asked in a house where there had been a mass murder, he might not like the answer.

“Oh, that’s where my great-great-great uncle’s best friend’s body was found,” Niki replies, waving him off. “It wasn’t even murder that got him, he died of starvation. I don’t think anyone has the key to it anymore either, word has it that my great-great grandma just threw it out.”

Jack bends down, looking through the keyhole. It was just blackness, as if the keyhole had been blocked off from the other side.

“Stop being nosy,” Niki flicks him on the back of the head.

“What, you’re not curious?” Jack asks.

“Well, rumour has it, they never removed his body,” Niki says, her eyes widening.

Jack’s stomach drops. “What– Really?”

“No, I just made that up,” Niki says. “There’s not much to see anyway, the room’s basically completely empty.”

“Isn’t it blocked off?” Jack asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you can’t see anything,” Jack elaborates.

Niki bends down, pressing her eye against the keyhole. “Huh, Tante Zsuzsa must’ve blocked it off at some point. I wonder why.”

“Come on, you literally just admitted to doing it,” Jack protested.

“When I was like twelve,” Niki said, giving him a look. “Anyway, let’s get this over and done with.”

They continue their locking. At some point, they get to the corridor by the wine cellar, the door hanging wide open, and despite the fact that Niki seems to be okay with leaving it hanging wide open as they go down the other hallway, Jack immediately nicks the keys off of her and runs back to lock it. Something about having that door open behind them makes him feel uneasy.

God, he hated this house. Their vacation was starting off great.

“Okay, that’s the bottom floor done,” Niki says, tucking the keys back into her pocket like a gun into a holster. Jack notes that the knife in her belt loop is still there. “One down, two more to go.”

“How much space did one guy need?” Jack asks. So far, he hasn’t heard of Schlatt having a wife or kids or anything, only his sister Minx, some guy called Quackity, another guy called Wilbur, and a best friend - who may or may not be either Quackity or Wilbur.

“Schlatt was very fond of guests,” Niki shrugs. “Hence, all the murder. That he may have done. Or may not have done. We don’t actually know.”

“That’s… nice…” Jack responds.

They then go up to the second floor, via a staircase that Jack hadn’t noticed before, tucked at the end of the hall. He’s kind of glad it’s there: that goddamn Schlatt painting still freaks him out, especially after what he’d seen yesterday. 

They emerge on a part of the second floor that he hasn’t seen yet. Schlatt’s sister’s room had overlooked the left side of the house, but this overlooked the front. It hadn’t really dawned on him how in the middle of nowhere this place was: there was literally nothing but trees all the way til the horizon, and the road leading up to the house turned to dirt pretty much as soon as it left the gates. Niki’s car is still safe on the driveway.

“Hey, Niki,” he asks, still looking out of the hallway window. “If we call the police, how will they actually get here?”

“Oh, I’ve checked, from what I’ve gathered it’d take about two and a half hours for an ambulance to get here, and who knows how long for the police,” Niki says.

Jack freezes.

Niki continues down the hallway, locking the first door.

“What do you mean, it’d take two and a half hours!?” Jack asks.

“Well, we’re in the middle of–”

She pauses.

Somewhere, deeper in the house, is a sort of dragging noise, like someone’s moving something very heavy. Niki holds up a finger to her lips.

“What was– What was that!?” Jack hisses, but quietly.

“Shh.”

There is more dragging. Niki pulls the knife in her belt out, creeping carefully forwards, and Jack follows, regretting not having brought his own.

There is another dragging noise, followed by a distinct wooden clack. Then, a loud, metallic rolling, heading deeper down into the house.

Niki stops.

“What the fuck was that!?” Jack asks.

“Dumb waiter,” Niki replies, speeding up. Jack is helpless to do anything but follow her, running through the halls, until they reach a door–

Niki tries the handle. It doesn’t move. She tries the key, before pushing on the handle again, but it still won’t budge.

“Jack,” she says. “You know how you’re my best friend in the whole wide world…”

Jack sighs, already feeling like he knows what was about to happen. “...Yes?”

“Can you kick this door down?”

It’s a compliment to their friendship that Jack just groans, lifting his leg, and kicks as hard as he can at where the lock sits on the door.

Crack. A long splinter forms down the middle of the door. Crack. A second splinter forms.

Crack. The part of the door surrounding the lock caves, just enough for the door to open slightly when he leans on it. There must be something blocking the other side. The gap is just wide enough that he can reach through, grabbing whatever is blocking the door on the other side–

With a little bit of jostling, it falls to the floor with a thud, and Jack more-or-less tumbles through, Niki barely stopping him from immediately collapsing on top of the chair on the other side.

“Holy crap,” Niki says, looking around.

Yeah, someone had definitely been living there. There’s a bed, covered in at least three various quilts, along with a pile of what looks like nicely folded clean laundry in one corner and a pile of incredibly muddy dirty laundry in the other. Fairy lights are strung along the edges of the room, most notably over a large shutter in the middle of one of the walls, and there was what Jack recognises as an IKEA reading lamp on the bedside table.

There’s a book there, too. Die Verwandlung, he reads, coming up close to have a look at it. The cover was embossed with a massive cockroach, and he could see the corners of pressed plants peeking out of it.

“Someone’s been living here, and they’ve been living here well,” Niki says, walking up to a plastic crate that Jack hadn’t noticed, picking a potato out of it.

“What– What do we do now?” Jack asks.

“Well, I say–”

There’s the sound of someone rattling a door, directly below them.

“Hah,” Niki said. “The doors are–”

Then there was the sound of the window creaking open. Jack and Niki both look at each other.

“Shit.”

They sprint to the window. There, running out onto the field, is… Jack doesn’t want to say a kid. He’s definitely an adult, or almost an adult, dressed in a weirdly good-quality windbreaker.

“OI,” Jack yells, leaning out of the window. “GET BACK HERE!”

“Jack, he probably speaks German–”

The not-really-a-kid turns around. “FAT FUCKING CHANCE!”

Niki sighs through her nose, and immediately hops out of the window.

“Niki, what–” Jack starts.

“This house is really easy to climb, trust me, I’ve done it before,” Niki calls up, almost halfway down the wall.

Niki’s right: the old bricks are full of all sorts of little pokey-out and sticking-in bits, all in decorative patterns, and it isn’t long before Jack sees Niki sprinting straight at the kid. Despite being significantly shorter than him, Niki catches up in seconds - the kid had slowed down, probably not expecting Niki to fucking scale a wall - and she’s tackling him to the floor.

“WOO! YOU GO, NIKI!” Jack cheers out the window, able to hear the kid swearing from here. Niki is clinging to him like an octopus - or, even better, like a pro wrestler - and nothing the kid does is dislodging her.

[THE RECORDING STARTS.]

[THEY ARE IN THE SAME ROOM JACK WOKE UP IN WHEN HE WAS GETTING CHOKED. THREE ARMCHAIRS ARE VISIBLE: TWO OPPOSITE EACH OTHER, AND ONE FACING DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA, SAT JUST A BIT OUT OF THE WAY LIKE A MEDIATOR.]

[NIKI IS SITTING IN THE MEDIATOR CHAIR. JACK AND THE KID ARE SAT IN THE CHAIRS OPPOSITE TO EACH OTHER. THE KID APPEARS TO BE TIED TO THE CHAIR BY WHAT LOOKS LIKE ONE OF THE ROPES FROM THE CURTAINS BEHIND THEM, BUT NOT PARTICULARLY WELL: WITH HOW LOOSE THE KNOT LOOKS, IT APPEARS THAT IF HE LEANS FORWARDS A BIT TOO HARD THEN IT’LL COME UNDONE.]

[???] “The fuck do you want?”

[Jack] “What are you doing in Niki’s Tante Zsuzsa’s house?”

[???] “What? Oh, Zsuzsa! Zsuzsanna! Love Zsuzsanna, you know, we’re tight, all the ladies love me, and Zsuzsa – she’s certainly a lady, isn’t–”

[Niki] “How do you know my Tante Zsuzsa, and what are you doing here.”

[THE STRANGER GULPS. HE APPEARS TO BE MORE INTIMIDATED BY NIKI THAN BY JACK.]

[???] “I’m the groundskeeper, innit? Keeping the grounds, y’know, while your Tante Zsuzsa isn’t here–”

[Niki] “Then how come she didn’t mention you?”

[???] “Well, uh, she’s getting old, maybe it’s dementia or something, maybe she just forgot…”

[HE TRAILS OFF.]

[???] “Well, um, it’s been nice talking to you, but uh, I’m a big man, things to do, places to be, women to–”

[THE KID LUNGES TO THE SIDE, THE ROPE PREDICTABLY COMING UNDONE. NIKI ALSO LAUNCHES HERSELF OUT OF THE CHAIR, TACKLING HIM TO THE GROUND, OFF FRAME.]

[Niki] “GOT HIM!”

[Jack] “Remind me not to piss you off.”

[Jack] “Anyway, who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here?”

[Jack] “And why can you speak English!?”

[???] “Möchten Sie lieber, dass ich Deutsch spreche?”

[Niki] “Nein.”

[THE KID GROANS.]

[???] “Can I at least get up?”

[NIKI LETS HIM UP. THERE’S A BRIEF SECOND WHERE IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO RUN AGAIN, BUT THEN HE GLANCES TO NIKI AND SEES THAT SHE’S POISED TO TACKLE HIM. HE SITS BACK DOWN IN THE ARMCHAIR, SLOUCHING BACK, LOOKING INCREDIBLY UNHAPPY.]

[???] “So, where do you want me to start?”

[Jack] “Who the fuck are you?”

[???] “Well, what an open question. It all started when my father, a man named Heinz Sch–”

[Jack] “Not like that.”

[???] “Tough crowd.”

[THEY LAPSE INTO SILENCE.]

[Niki] “Maybe I should just call the po–”

[???] “Alright, alright! Okay, fine. I’m Tommy, if that’s what you wanted to know. Tommy Innidt, wooer of women, lone inhabitant of Das Herrenhaus des Nihachu–”

[Niki] “And what are you doing here? How did you even find this place!?”

[TOMMY FOLDS HIS HANDS, AND EVERYTHING ABOUT HIS POSTURE SEEMS TO EMBODY SOMEONE DOING AN IMPRESSION OF A PARTICULARLY CONDESCENDING MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN.]

[Tommy] “Well, sometimes, a person might - for example - find themselves homeless. Without a home, if you need that explained.”

[Tommy] “Well, and sometimes, someone might find themselves homeless, and they might find themselves at their friend’s house, and their friend might perhaps tell them that there is a house - quite a lovely house, if I do say so myself - an abandoned house, just a few miles’ walk down the road.”

[Tommy] “Now, it was quite a lovely house, but it was quite a shame that there was no one to live in it. So, my friend - lovely friend, by the way, his name’s Technoblade if you’d like to report him to the police instead of me - told me, “oh, Tommy, you’re the greatest man ever, you should go live in this house!”. Now, I didn’t want to upset my friend, and it’d be such a shame to–”

[Niki] “So you’ve been squatting in my Tante Zsuzsa’s house.”

[Tommy] “Well, ‘squatting’ is a very strong word, a very accusatory word, and I don’t appreciate–”

[Niki] “How long have you been squatting, exactly?”

[Tommy] “What, do you think I can tell dates on a clock or something? I don’t even know what month it is.”

[Niki] “Approximately.”

[Tommy] “Well, it was snowing the first time I got here, so take what you will from that.”

[NIKI PONDERS.]

[Niki] “The last time it snowed, it was about March…”

[Jack] “So, do we kick him out?”

[Tommy] “Oi, dickhead, I got here first–”

[Jack] “Can we just send him to his friend?”

[Tommy] “Hey, I’ve lived in this house way longer than you, if anyone should be getting out, it should be you!”

[Niki] “Where does your friend live?”

[Tommy] “Fuckin’ ages away, you know, so long away that it isn’t worth it to even think about going. You know, I’ve got a nice life here, I’ve got a room, a house, I’ve got–”

[TOMMY CONTINUES TO LIST THINGS, GROWING EXPONENTIALLY IN LUDICROSITY.]

[Jack] “So do we kick him out?”

[Niki] “Well, I assume his friend lives in the village, which is quite a long way…”

[Tommy] “HAH, Technoblade doesn’t even live in the village, he lives way farther out.”

[Niki] “I mean, if you want to drive him to the village, I can give you the keys.”

[Jack] “On that road? I’d crash the car.”

[Niki] “Well, you don’t want to drive, I don’t want to drive…”

[Tommy] “What, do I get to stay then?”

[NIKI AND JACK BOTH SIGH.]

[Tommy] “Oh, fuck yeah.”

Dear Schlatt,

Hello, I was wondering if my son was with you? He wrote last week saying that he was headed over to yours for a few days, but he’s yet to return. I’ve tried asking around, and I’ve already mailed both his and Sally’s houses, but there’s been no response. As much as I know it’s probably nothing, I’ve been feeling increasingly agitated, so I’ll probably be over tomorrow, if there’s no one at Wilbur’s when I get there.

Thank you for your time,

Philza Minenhandwerk

Chapter Text

[THE RECORDING STARTS] 

[THE CAMERA IS HELD IN NIKI’S HAND. SHE’S WEARING A T-SHIRT, READING ‘YOU ARE BAD FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH’, AND A PAIR OF BASKETBALL SHORTS. SHE HAS THE CAMERA ANGLED UP, GETTING A GOOD SHOT OF A KING-SIZED BED, JACK ON THE FLOOR BEHIND IT AND DIGGING THROUGH A LARGE LUGGAGE BAG.]

[Niki] “Girl’s night!”

[Jack] “Sod off.”

[NIKI FALLS BACK ON THE BED, HER HEAD NOW VERY NEAR THE BACK OF JACK’S. SHE REACHES OUT WITH HER FREE HAND, RUBBING AT HIS BALD HEAD. HE DODGES AWAY.]

[Niki] “Jack over here is scared of ghosts.”

[Jack] “No, I’m scared of that kid nicking my shit in my sleep.”

[NIKI PATS HIS HEAD. HE GLARES AT HER.]

[Niki] “Sure you are.”

[Jack] “Oi! Also, I have full right to be scared of ghosts, you know. Especially after this fucking morning.”

[Niki] “You were probably sleepwalking and strangled yourself or something.”

[Jack] “Yeah, sure, and somehow while strangling myself, I somehow ended up with two perfect handprints in the opposite direction to the way they’d be if I strangled myself.”

[NIKI’S FACE FREEZES. SHE WHIPS AROUND TO FACE JACK.]

[Niki] “HANDPRINTS!?”

[Jack] “Yeah!? What did you think it was!?”

[Niki] “I don’t know, but not HANDPRINTS! Are you sure it’s handprints?”

[Jack] “Well, you’re welcome to have a look!”

[JACK TILTS HIS HEAD UP TO GIVE A BETTER VIEW OF HIS NECK, THE CAMERA SHAKING AS NIKI ROLLS ONTO HER FRONT AND GIVES A GOOD VIEW OF THE BRUISES. THE TWO HANDPRINTS ARE UNMISTAKABLE: THE BRUISING IS GREEN, WITH SMALL PURPLE SPOTS, TWO SYMMETRICAL PATTERNS - EACH WITH FOUR FINGERS AND A THUMB.]

[Niki] “What the fuck!?”

[Jack] “How did you not notice!?”

[Niki] “I– I– Oh my god.” 

[THE CAMERA DROPS TO THE BED, BOUNCING, WITH A VIEW OF THE CEILING. FOR A SECOND, IT IS POSSIBLE TO SEE NIKI LAUNCHING HERSELF OFF OF THE BED, BEFORE THERE IS THE SOUND OF KEYS JINGLING AND A LOCK CLICKING SHUT. THEN, NIKI IS VISIBLE AGAIN, SPRINTING TO THE OPPOSITE END OF THE ROOM, AND THERE IS ANOTHER LOCK CLICKING.]

[Niki] “Do you think it was Tommy?” 

[Jack] “I mean, not really–”

[Niki] “I don’t trust him. Tomorrow, I’ll drive him out to– to wherever his friend is, and then we’re going home.”

[Jack] “Already? But what about–”

[Niki] “Jack, someone choked you, something dragged you out of your room and choked you, if something happened, I–”

[THERE IS A SOB. JACK COMES INTO FRAME FOR A SECOND, PULLING NIKI SO THAT THEY’RE BOTH SITTING SIDE-BY-SIDE ON THE BED. THE DIP THEY CAUSE IN THE MATTRESS ANGLES THE CAMERA MORE TOWARDS THEM. JACK ROCKS THEM BOTH BACK AND FORTH, SHUSHING HER GENTLY.]

[Jack] “I’m fine, nothing bad happened!”

[NIKI LOOKS UP AT HIM DISBELIEVINGLY.]

[Niki] “Jack, you were choked.”

[Jack] “Yeah, but I’m a big, masculine man! I can take a little choking.”

[NIKI MAKES A NOISE, LIKE SHE’S TRYING NOT TO LAUGH BUT IT’S NOT WORKING VERY WELL. JACK TURNS AROUND, GIVING HER A JUDGEMENTAL LOOK.]

[Jack] “I was choked. Niki Nihachu, I was choked, and you’re laughing?”

[Niki, still trying not to laugh] “No, no, I swear–”

[JACK ATTACKS HER, SHOVING HER OVER. SHE TUMBLES, NOW LAUGHING SINCERELY. JACK GRABS A PILLOW, AND STARTS HITTING HER WITH IT.]

[Jack] “You’re laughing at me!?”

[Niki] “No, no, you just phrased it–”

[Jack] “Can’t believe this, Niki, I really can’t.”

[Jack] “Hey, is your phone recording?”

[Niki] “Huh? Oh yeah, pass it here, I forgot about that.”

[THE CAMERA IS PICKED UP. IT JOSTLES AS JACK PASSES IT TO NIKI, HER FACE COMING INTO VIEW.]

[THE RECORDING ENDS.]

Jack is woken up by Niki’s weight leaving the bed.

Jack hadn’t particularly wanted to share a bed with Niki. He was a bit awkward, really, with sharing beds with people, and didn’t really want to wake up having someone breathing into his face or stealing the blankets or something. Or worse, touching their bare feet. Still, he preferred touching feet to waking up getting choked out in a chair.

He checks the time on his phone. 3:57 AM. He can hear Niki go into the bathroom nearest to them, and the sound of the tap turning on. What was she doing..? Urgh, he was too tired for this.

He rolled over and fell back asleep.

What was probably fifteen minutes later, he was awakened by Niki climbing back onto the bed.

She practically collapsed onto the mattress when she climbed back on, much less elegantly than she’d originally gotten on, making it dip so much that Jack found himself being rolled slightly.

“Niki, the bed’s massive, stay on your side,” Jack grumbled, half-asleep. Niki didn’t listen, flopping down just inches away from him, and he sighed. “Niki, this is a king sized bed–”

An arm flops across him, as well as a leg, like someone half-rolling on top of him. What the fuck. Jack’s eyes shot wide open, and he rolled over, fixing Niki with a stern glare. “Niki, right, there’s this thing called persona–”

He cuts off the moment he realises who he’s making eye contact with.

Jebidiah Schlatt. He’s just like in the painting, staring deep into Jack’s eyes, a grin spread across his face.

Jack screams.

He launches himself off the bed, backing himself against the wall. There are footsteps outside, sprinting to the bedroom, and then the door starts rattling. Jack screams harder.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SCREAMING!?” Tommy’s voice comes through the door. 

“THIS HOUSE IS FUCKING HAUNTED!” Jack screams back, scrambling to his feet.

From the floor, he couldn’t see the bed. Now, however? He has a full clear view.

The covers are thrown back from Jack launching himself out of it. Seconds ago, where Schlatt had been, there was nothing.

The smell of burnt tobacco wafts through the air.

“THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, HAUNTED?” Tommy shouts through the door. Oh. The door was still locked.

Jack - praying that Niki hadn’t taken the keys - runs to the opposite end of the room, where all of their shit is. Part of him expected to see Jebidiah Schlatt crouched behind the bed or something, but thankfully there’s nothing there but his suitcases and the keys, piled on top of them.

He picks up the keys, unlocking the door, nearly giving himself a heart attack when Tommy is standing right on the other side.

“What was that all about?” Tommy asks.

“Schlatt. Schlatt,” Jack says, panting. “Jebediah Schlatt. In bed with me.”

“Mate, I don’t want to hear about–”

“No, like actually, physically there, like he fucking made a dip in the mattress and shit,” Jack says, clutching at his head. If he had hair, he’d be clutching on it. “God, I thought he was Niki. Wait. Niki– Niki! Shit!”

Jack pushes past Tommy, who makes a disgruntled noise, and sprints to the bathroom. He shoves the door open - it’s unlocked, the first bad sign - and rushes in. It’s hard to see anything - Tante Zsuzsa never bothered to put any fucking electricity in - but the little he can make out from the moonlight filtering in tells him the bathroom is empty.

There’s nothing there. Absolutely nothing out of place. Somehow, it’s worse than if there was something.

Jack drops to his knees on the tile floor. It kind of hurts but he ignores it. “Niki’s gone.”

“And? She probably just went to get a snack or something,” Tommy shrugs.

“No– No– Tommy, you don’t get it,” Jack says, getting to his feet, and rushing to where the nearest staircase is. It’s nearly pitch-black, and it’s a wonder that he hasn’t fallen over yet. Tommy follows. “The last time one of us went fucking missing, I ended up waking up getting choked with bruises around my neck.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just–”

“THEY WERE HAND-SHAPED.”

The two of them make it onto the ground floor.

“Okay,” Jack starts. “Maybe you check the left, and I check the right–”

“All the doors in the house are locked, big man, you and Niki locked ‘em all,” Tommy interrupts. “Only open room is the drawing room because it doesn’t have any fucking doors.”

“The drawing room, right…” Jack says, and then freezes. “That wouldn’t happen to be the one we interrogated you in, would it? The one with all of the chairs? By the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jack doesn’t respond, sprinting straight there. He takes the stairs two, three, four at a time, running down the hallway so quick that he slams into the turns, determined on finding Niki as quickly as possible.

His dry feet skid on the tiled floor of the hallway. It’s dark, the only light coming in through the window, casting everything in a sort of silvery glow. The chairs have all been moved, pushed to the edges of the room, except for one: there, in the centre of the room, is a person, standing before an armchair. Jack is about fifty percent sure that there might be someone else in the armchair. Both of them sideways to Jack.

“Niki..? Jack asks, taking a step forward. Tommy skids to a stop in the hallway behind him.

The person standing looks up. Only then does Jack realise that they were holding something: a long poker, the slim silhouette hard to see where it’s backlit by the moon, speared into the armchair.

Two eyes stare at him. It’s not like they’re glowing, it’s like they’re illuminated by their own light, and…

That’s not fucking Niki.

Tommy clicks on a torch. The person is gone, like a shadow. There’s a puddle of something dark, dripping down from the armchair, and Jack looks down at the chair–

“NIKI!”

Jack doesn’t think for a moment before he rushes forwards, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. Dark blood - congealed blood - drips out from her mouth, and her eyes, previously dim, suddenly light up with awareness. She falls forwards onto Jack, making a sound that’s a mix of a wet cough and a sob.

“I– Jack– I don’t feel well,” she sobs, and he wraps his arms around her properly, pulling her out of the chair and not caring about the fact that she was probably getting blood all over his shoulder.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Jack tries to reassure her, despite the fact that he is very worried about the amount of blood. Tommy, in the background, has evidently found a lighter, because now instead of being lit by a shaky torch, the gas lamps are beginning to turn on.

“Am– Am I bleeding?” Niki asks, and Jack fumbles to get them both sitting on the floor. Niki’s hands immediately go to the edge of her shirt, pulling it up, and…

Jack’s first thought is Jesus, that’s a lot of blood. His second thought is oh, thank god she’s not bleeding.

Niki’s entire side looks like it’s been glazed with blood, but save the absolutely massive green bruise spanning her side, there’s no wound. No slash. No stab. No puncture. There is, however, a 10p-sized circle, a few inches to the right of her belly button, which is such a dark purple that it’s basically black.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy says, leaning over to look. “This is some horror movie shit.”

Niki looks up at him. Given the blood that’s now all over her hands and dripping off her chin, she really does look like some sort of horror movie protagonist. 

“I need a shower,” she sighs. “...and water. So much water.”

“Same,” Jack says, getting up and reaching a hand out to Niki. She grabs it, only stumbling slightly when she’s upright, clutching her head.

“Oh, I think I’ve got a migraine coming,” her brow furrows. “God, that hurts.”

“Probably the blood loss,” Tommy pipes in. 

“I need water,” Niki groans, leaning most of her weight on Jack. Jack starts lowering her to the floor. “God, what is it with this house?”

[THE RECORDING STARTS.]

[JACK, NIKI AND TOMMY ARE ALL IN TOMMY’S ROOM, A PILE OF BLANKETS ON THE FLOOR. TOMMY IS HOLDING THE CAMERA, POINTING IT AT HIS FACE, AND MAKING A SERIES OF STUPID FACES. NIKI AND JACK HAVE BOTH CHANGED CLOTHES, AND NIKI’S HAIR IS WET AND PULLED INTO TWO NEAT PLAITS.]

[THE DOOR TO THE ROOM HAS BEEN DUCT-TAPED BACK TOGETHER, A WOODEN BOARD SERVING AS A SPLINT.]

[Jack] “So you went up to the guy in your dream, and he just stabbed you?”

[Niki] “Mmhm!”

[TOMMY BRINGS THE CAMERA RIGHT UP TO HIS FACE.]

[Tommy, whispered] “Just like central London.”

[HE BRINGS THE CAMERA TO A NORMAL DISTANCE.]

[Tommy] “None of this shit happened before you came here, I hope you know. Everything was perfectly normal, just me, the grounds, and nothing else.”

[Jack] “Oi, how is it our fault?”

[Tommy] “I dunno, you just came here and started doing shit! The only issue I’ve had until this point - and I’ve been here for fucking ages - is weird sounds from the end of that one really dark corridor. You guys have to have done something.”

[Jack] “We haven’t done a–”

[THEY ALL PAUSE. VERY, VERY FAINTLY, IT IS POSSIBLE TO HEAR FOOTSTEPS.]

[Niki] “What was that.”

[TOMMY TURNS THE CAMERA, FACING IT TO THE DOOR. WHATEVER IS WALKING IS SLOWLY COMING CLOSER AND CLOSER: THE FOOTSTEPS ARE UNEVEN, STUMBLING, AND AS THEY GET CLOSER IT IS POSSIBLE TO HEAR A QUIET SOBBING.]

[THE CAMERA FLICKS BETWEEN NIKI AND JACK. BOTH HAVE TERRIFIED LOOKS ON THEIR FACES.]

[THE FOOTSTEPS PASS.]

[BOTH NIKI AND JACK LOOK FAINT.]

[Tommy] “I swear, literally none of this-”

[DISTANTLY, THERE IS A CLACK]

[Niki, whispering] “What was that!?”

[Jack, also whispering] “I swear to god, if it’s another fucking ghost…”

[THEY SIT IN SILENCE, WAITING. THERE IS ANOTHER CLACK. THEN ANOTHER.]

[Jack] “Hang on, I think– Is that the doors unlocking?”

[THE CLACKING - AS IF REALISING THAT THEY KNOW WHAT IT IS - RESTARTS WITH RENEWED VIGOUR. CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK, IT CONTINUES, THE SOUND GETTING LOUDER AND CLOSER.]

[Niki] “Wait– It’s going to get to our door.”

[Jack] “I’ll get the keys!”

[THE CLACKING IS COMING FROM BOTH SIDES NOW, GETTING EXPONENTIALLY FASTER. A HARSH WIND BLOWS THROUGH THE HOUSE, ALL THE NOW-UNLOCKED DOORS OUTSIDE RATTLING AND SLAMMING, TOMMY NOW TURNING THE CAMERA TO FACE THE DOOR. THE LIGHTS START FLICKERING, THE FAIRY LIGHTS FLASHING ON AND OFF IN UNPREDICTABLE PATTERNS, THE DOOR TO THE ROOM VISIBLY SHAKING IN THE DOORFRAME.]

[SUDDENLY, THE WINDS STOP. THE LIGHTS TURN OFF, THE ROOM BATHED IN NEAR PITCH BLACKNESS]

[Niki] “Is it over..?”

[THE DOOR UNLOCKS. EVERYTHING IN THE ROOM SEEMS TO FREEZE.]

[IT CREAKS OPEN, SLOWLY. THERE, ON THE OTHER SIDE, IS A MAN. A LARGE GASH DOWN THE RIGHT SIDE OF HIS FACE BLEEDS FREELY, ALL THE WAY FROM HIS CHIN, THROUGH HIS LIP, AND UP TO HIS RIGHT EYE. THERE’S A GREYISH QUALITY TO BOTH HIS SKIN AND HIS CLOTHES - AND IN HIS HANDS, HE GRIPS A FIRE POKER. IT’S POINTING DOWNWARDS, AND A THICK LIQUID DRIPS FROM IT, THE DROPS MAKING AN IRREGULAR PAT-PAT-PAT SOUND AS THEY LAND.]

[THERE’S A LOST EXPRESSION ON THE MAN’S FACE. HE ISN’T LOOKING AT ANYTHING IN PARTICULAR. THE WHITES OF HIS EYES ARE SO BRIGHT THAT IT’S AS IF THEY ARE LIT FROM THE INSIDE.]

[HE STANDS THERE, THE ONLY PART OF HIM TRULY VISIBLE BEING THE WHITES OF HIS EYES. THEN, THE MEMBERS OF THE ROOM SEEM TO COME TO THEIR SENSES, AND JACK RUSHES FORWARDS, SLAMMING THE DOOR SHUT, IMMEDIATELY LOCKING IT AFTERWARDS.]

[THERE IS A SECOND WHERE IT IS UNCLEAR WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN. THEN, THE LIGHTS FLICKER BACK ON, AND TOMMY TURNS, THE CAMERA NOW GETTING BOTH NIKI AND JACK IN FRAME, BOTH OF THEM STARING AROUND, EYES WIDE IN SHOCK.]

[Niki] “Jack, Jack, you’re bleeding!”

[NIKI CLAMBERS TO HER KNEES, CRAWLING OVER. THE HANDPRINTS ON JACK’S NECK ARE GLAZED WITH BLOOD.]

[Jack] “Niki– Your mouth!”

[NIKI REACHES WITH ONE HAND TO HER LIPS, DABBING AT THEM. THEY COME AWAY WITH BLOOD. DESPERATELY, SHE PULLS UP THE HEM OF HER SLEEP-SHIRT, AND LIKE JACK, THE BRUISE IS GLAZED IN BLOOD.]

[Jack] “Shit, do we have like– tissues, or something?”

[Niki] “I think I have some in my bag, give me a second…”

[TOMMY HAS FLIPPED THE CAMERA, USING IT TO LOOK AT HIS FACE. HE APPEARS TO BE USING IT TO ALSO CHECK FOR BLOOD.]

[Jack] “What don’t you have in that thing!?”

[Niki] “Well, I used to have pepper spray, but then I visited you in England so I took it out and never got around to putting it back in again.”

[TOMMY MAKES A FACE OF HORROR, FLIPPING THE CAMERA TO NIKI AND JACK. NIKI IS UNPERTURBED, BUSY TRYING TO GET THE BLOOD OFF OF JACK’S NECK. JACK HAS THE EXACT SAME LOOK OF HORROR AS TOMMY.]

[TOMMY FLIPS THE CAMERA BACK TO HIMSELF.]

[THE RECORDING ENDS.]

Dear Quackity,

Please get away from my brother.

It’s strange saying this about someone I’m related to, but you’re not safe there. I’ve seen how you’ve changed these past few months, I’ve seen how he’s changed – if you stay any longer, I’m worried about what might happen. The last time I visited just reaffirmed that for me.

Best regards,

Minx.

P.S I’m out of the country for the next month. Hang in there.

Chapter Text

“We need to get out of here,” Niki says. Jack can hear that she’s sitting upright. Jack does not reply. Jack has gotten about three hours of sleep and his eyes are not opening.

“If you’re leaving, take me too,” Tommy says. “I don’t care if I have to live in Technoblade’s fucking shed again, I am not spending another night here.”

“Wait– is that the friend you were living with?” Niki asks. “Why were you living in his shed!?”

“HAHA, uh, FUNNY STORY,” Tommy says, “...he didn’t really want me there.”

“Wait– So he’s not actually your friend!?” Niki asks.

Jack does not care about this conversation. Jack wants to sleep. He rolls over, using his pillow to sort of sandwich both of his ears, praying that they shut up.

“No, no, Technoblade is my friend, he visits me all the time!” Tommy complains. “He just. He didn’t want me in his shed. Or his house.”

Jack doesn’t have to have his eyes open to know exactly what her face is doing.

“...So he just kicked you out?” Niki asks.

“Well, no, he more kept suggesting I move here until I did,” Tommy says. “In his defence, he did need that shed. And the field. Something, something, optimal space usage, something, something, potatoes.”

There’s a lapse of silence. Tommy imagines she’s still making that face.

“Look, you have to meet him to understand,” Tommy defends. “I swear he’s– Well, he’s not normal, especially not about potatoes, but it’ll make sense. He’ll have me while I find new… uh, living arrangements.”

Somewhere in the house, a door slams. Jack just rolls over again.

Somehow, he manages to go back to sleep.

<>

Jack wakes up in pitch blackness. At first, he doesn’t think much of it: he wouldn’t put it past himself to have slept dawn-til-dusk after that whole ordeal.

It isn’t until he rolls over onto fucking cold sand that he realises that something’s up.

His eyes fly wide open.

He’s in the fucking basement.

He sits up so fast his head swims from dehydration. Fuck. How the hell did he end up down there!?

Well, he has a guess, and that guess is ghosts.

He sits up, pushing his covers off of himself. It’s freezing, and he can barely see, the only light there coming through the door. Everything’s got a sort of hazy quality, like he’s trying to view it through steam, but the air’s only a little damp.

Slowly, like an old man, he gets to his feet and hobbles to the door. He tries it. Locked.

But there’s a sound on the other side, like sobbing.

It’s definitely a woman, but it’s certainly not Niki. He’s been to the pub with Niki and sometimes, on rare occasions, she’s a sappy drunk, which means that he’s very familiar with the sound of her crying. 

Curious, he puts his eye to the door’s lock. Given how massive the keyhole is, he gets a good view.

There’s a woman, on her knees, sobbing, with that same hazy steam-like quality as the rest of the place. She’s really dressed up: her neck is coated in necklaces, and her wrists in bangles, and her dress is decorated with glorious floral embroidery, the likes of which he’s only seen in museums. Her hair - bright ginger - is pulled into an elaborate style, every curl of it looking completely intentional, decorated with all sorts of clips and pins.

The only part of her undecorated is her two hands, covering her face. On them, there is only one ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

The basement key - much less rusty and worn than he remembers it - lies by her legs.

“Oi, lady, can you unlock the door?” Jack asks, rattling the door handle, not really expecting an answer. He has the strong feeling that absolutely none of this is real. 

The woman wipes her face with a hankie she seemed to have pulled from nowhere. For a second, Jack allows himself to be hopeful, but she just gets up, picking up the key, and leaves.

Shit. He needs to look for another exit.

He steps away from the door. Now that he’s not standing right by the door, he realises that his vision’s adjusted. The basement is different. There’s no broken glass on the floor, no sand either, all of the wine racks are upright. 

It’s uncomfortably quiet. Dead, almost. Actually, now that he listens, there is some noise: somewhere, in one of the far corners of the room, is the sound of sand moving, but it’s quiet and rhythmic in a way that makes Jack nervous.

Jack steps forwards cautiously, walking along the aisles and aisles of wine racks, and the world gets hazier the further he goes - but it also gets brighter, some of the bottles seeming to take on a bluish glow the further he goes. His footsteps echo uncomfortably loudly. The sound of the sand, while still quiet, is getting louder, until he knows that once he walks past the next aisle, whatever it was will be there. 

He pauses, gathering up courage. Considering what he’s previously seen in this house, he fully expects to see a fucking corpse, but when he peers around…

There’s a guy. It’s not the guy with the poker, it’s not Jebidiah Schlatt, it’s some new guy, kneeling on the floor before a pile of sand, shoulders shaking like he’s… crying? No, he isn’t crying, the shaking is coming from the motion he’s doing with his hands, shovelling handful upon handful of sand into his mouth.

Ah. That was probably Wilbur then, and the girlfriend he’d been neglecting. That made sense.

Okay. Okay. That was weird, sure, but at least that wasn’t a fucking corpse or something. Like the lady from earlier, he doesn’t seem to have reacted at all to Jack’s presence, so he feels fairly comfortable walking closer.

The man’s shovelling sand from what appears to be a caved-in wall, the bricks of it scattered around him. Jack hadn’t managed to get to this part of the basement before. There, at the very top of the caved-in sand-wall was a thin stream of greyish light, meaning…

“Finally, a way out,” Jack whispers.

He ignores the way that when he stumbles, his foot just passes through the guy on the floor. He’s too busy scrambling for the light, the sand slipping out from under his feet as he desperately digs and digs and digs–

He’s in the light. 

It’s beautiful.

Then he’s coughing sand out of his fucking lungs.

<>

[RECORDING START.]

[THE ONLY LIGHT SOURCE IS JACK’S PHONE. JACK IS IN THE BASEMENT. THE CAMERA IS POINTED AT THE STAIRCASE UP TO THE HOUSE, WHICH APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN FILLED ENTIRELY WITH WET SAND.]

[Jack] “I am locked in the basement.”

[RAIN CAN BE HEARD ABOVEGROUND. THE PHONE SHAKES AS JACK SHIVERS, TURNING, POINTING THE PHONE AROUND. IT’S STILL THE SAME AS IT WAS THE LAST TIME HE WAS THERE, EXCEPT NOW THERE’S A PILE OF BLANKETS DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF ONE OF THE AISLES.]

[THE CAMERA SHAKES AS JACK WALKS.]

[Jack] “Thankfully, I appear to have had a prophetic dream, which is handy.”

[Jack] “Even if I did wake up with fucking sand in my mouth.”

[Jack] “In theory, at some point there should be slightly collapsed wall, that - in theory - I should be able to dig my way out of.”

[Jack] “In theory.”

[JACK CONTINUES WALKING, POINTING THE CAMERA DOWN THE AISLES. GRADUALLY, THE FLOOR GAINS A THICKER AND THICKER LAYER OF SAND, UNTIL - FINALLY - HE REACHES AN AISLE WHERE THE BACK WALL IS MISSING MOST OF ITS BRICKS.]

[Jack] “Okay, okay, I think this is what I was looking for.”

[HE WALKS DOWN THE AISLE, HIS FEET MAKING SHUFFLING NOISES IN THE SAND.]

[Jack] “I should be able to get back up to the surface if I just…”

[HE’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE WALL NOW. HE REACHES UP WITH ONE HAND AND PULLS THE TOP BRICK OUT, THROWING IT TO THE SIDE. SAND SPILLS OUT.]

[Jack] “Okay, this looks promising!”

[HE PUTS THE HOLE IN HIS POCKET. THERE ARE A LOT OF GRUNTING SOUNDS, AS WELL AS THE GRINDING OF BRICK-ON-BRICK, NOT TO MENTION THE SOUND OF VERY HEAVY OBJECTS THUDDING TO THE FLOOR.]

[Jack] “Okay, okay, I think I’m almost there…”

[THERE IS A SORT OF LOUD CRACK, LIKE STONE BREAKING.]

[Jack] “What was– AURGH!”

[THERE ARE A LOT OF NOISES: SAND RUSHING, JACK SCREAMING, BRICKS ROLLING ACROSS THE FLOOR. THEN, IT STOPS.]

[JACK PANTS. THE PHONE IS TAKEN OUT OF HIS POCKET, FLIPPED TO FRONT CAMERA, SHOWING HIS FACE. HE LOOKS BEWILDERED, LYING ON HIS BACK ON A LARGE PILE OF SAND AND BRICKS, RAIN PATTERING DOWN ONTO HIS FACE AND SUNLIGHT ILLUMINATING HIM.]

[Jack] “I really hope Tante Zsuzsa was not attached to that wall.”

[JACK GETS UP. IT IS VISIBLE THAT UP TO HIS KNEE HAS BEEN BURIED IN SAND, AND IT TAKES HIM A MOMENT TO GET HIS FEET OUT. THIS ENTIRE TIME HE HAS NOT BEEN WEARING SHOES, ONLY FUZZY SOCKS.]

[HE FLIPS THE CAMERA TO THE BASEMENT, PANNING IT AROUND. IN THE CORNER, THERE IS A DARK, SHADOWY FIGURE.]

[JACK POINTS THE CAMERA AT IT.]

[Jack, whispering] “I have never wanted to flip off a ghost more, but I also don’t want to die.”

[HE TURNS AROUND, TO THE COLLAPSED PILE OF RUBBLE LEADING TO THE SURFACE.]

[Jack] “Let’s go.”

[JACK STICKS THE PHONE BACK IN HIS POCKET. THERE ARE CLIMBING NOISES FOR A GOOD MINUTE, AND THEN A LOUD SQUELCH.]

[THE PHONE IS BACK OUT OF JACK’S POCKET, POINTING AT HIS FOOT. IT HAS SUNK A GOOD TEN CENTIMETRES INTO THE WATERLOGGED GRASS. THE OTHER FOOT JOINS IT.]

[Jack] “Okay, this is fucking gross, Jesus Christ.”

[THE CAMERA PANS AROUND. JACK HAS EMERGED NOT FAR FROM THE FRONT DOOR, NIKI’S CAR VISIBLE IN THE FRAME, AND FAR AWAY, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL AND BEHIND THE GATES, IS A TRACTOR.]

[Jack] “What the fuck is a tractor doing here..?”

[JACK STARTS WALKING DOWN THE HILL. SOON, A FIGURE IS SEEN GETTING OUT OF THE TRACTOR, CLAD IN A BIG BLACK RAINCOAT, AND WALKS TOWARDS THE GATE.]

[THE HILL STEEPENS, AND JACK STARTS RUNNING INSTEAD OF WALKING. SECONDS LATER HE TUMBLES, AND THE CAMERA IS REDUCED TO MOTION BLUR, WIND NOISES AND SWEARING FOR A GOOD FIFTEEN SECONDS.]

[JACK’S ROLLING CEASES. HE STANDS UP. HE IS NOW ONLY ABOUT TEN METRES AWAY FROM THE GATE. THE PERSON IN THE RAINCOAT IS STARING AT HIM IN SHOCK.]

[???] "Geht's dir gut?”

[Jack] “Uuh, I don’t speak German, sorry. Kein Deutsch, kein Deutsch.”

[THERE IS AN AWKWARD SILENCE AS THEY STARE AT EACH OTHER. THE NEWCOMER IS FAIRLY NORMAL LOOKING: THEY ARE WEARING A BLACK RAINCOAT AND WELLIES, THE ONLY PART OF THEIR APPEARANCE THAT DOESN’T SCREAM “GUY WHO DRIVES A TRACTOR” BEING THEIR LONG PINK HAIR.]

[???] “Wait, what the hell are English people doing here?”

[Jack] “Oh, uh, no, I’m here with my friend Niki, her nan owns the house.”

[THE GUYS FACE MORPHS TO A SORT-OF “OH SHIT” SORT OF EXPRESSION.]

[???] “And, uh, have you met the… groundskeeper?”

[Jack] “You mean the guy squatting somewhere on the second floor.”

[???] “Well, squatting is a strong word, y’know…”

[Tommy, distantly] “YO, TECHNOBLADE!”

[JACK TURNS THE CAMERA AROUND. TOMMY IS THERE, WAVING AS HE STEPS OUT OF THE HOUSE, DRESSED PROPERLY FOR THE WEATHER. NIKI IS BEHIND HIM.]

[Niki] “OH MY GOD, JACK!”

[NIKI SPRINTS DOWN THE HILL. AT SOME POINT, HER ANKLE ROLLS, AND SHE STARTS TUMBLING DOWN, FALLING AND FALLING AND FALLING UNTIL SHE LANDS IN A WET HEAP A FEW FEET AWAY FROM JACK.]

[Jack] “Shit, Niki, are you okay?”

[NIKI SPRINGS TO HER FEET AND GRABS JACK BY THE SHOULDERS.]

[Niki] “More like, are you okay!? Me and Tommy took our eyes off you for a second, and then when we checked under your duvet, all there was was a perfect sculpture of you made of wet sand!”

[Jack] “Wet sand!?”

[TOMMY HAS CAUGHT UP. HE DID NOT ROLL DOWN THE HILL, UNLIKE THE OTHER TWO.]

[Tommy] “Yo, Technoblade! What are you doing here?”

[TOMMY RUNS UP TO THE GATES AND DAPS TECHNOBLADE UP THROUGH THE BARS.]

[Technoblade] “Brought you some more veg. I’ve got, uh, carrots, some onions…”

[Tommy] “Potatoes?”

[Technoblade] “What, you can never have too many potatoes!”

[NIKI LEANS IN TO WHISPER TO JACK.]

[Niki, whispering] “Who is that?”

[Jack, whispering back.] “I think that that’s Tommy’s friend whose shed he lived in.”

[NIKI NODS, UNDERSTANDING.]

[Tommy] “Anyway, should we head back inside? It’s kind of cold out here.”

[Niki] “Oh, uh, is your friend coming in? If he is, I’ll need to go fetch the keys…”

[Tommy] “Oh, that’s not a problem.”

[WITH PRACTISED EASE, TECHNOBLADE VAULTS THE FENCE, SPIKES AND ALL.]

[Niki] “Huh.”

[Jack] “AND YOU TOLD ME THE FENCE WOULD PROTECT AGAINST BEARS.”

[RECORDING END.]

<>

“We’re planning to leave as soon as the rain stops,” Niki says, sipping on her tea.

They’ve all moved to the kitchen, Jack now freshly rinsed. He’d gotten a good look at himself before he got in the shower: he’d been covered head to toe in sand, cobwebs and little brick flakes. In the end he’d just decided to bin his clothes, there was no way he was ever getting that shit out.

Jack had also gone to see that sand replica of himself. It was horrifyingly accurate. For a second, he contemplated smashing it, but the idea of carving his own face in freaked him out far too much. He ended up just leaving.

“The rain’ll be over by midday,” Technoblade nods, sipping his own tea. They’d found the teabags in some dusty little cupboard. Jack really hopes tea couldn’t go out of date. 

“Hope so,” Niki says. “This place is freaky.”

Jack looks out the kitchen window, where the back garden is, the cliffs at the very end. There, by the tree at the back, is a figure dressed in a long, flowing cloak, which billows in the wind.

He doesn’t mention it. He refuses to give those ghosts any more attention, even if his heart quickens in his chest and he can feel sweat gather on his skin.

Something’s going to happen, he can feel it. He still doesn’t tell anyone.

Probably not the best idea, but, hey. He’s  tired. No one else had had to deal with a fucking hallucination-dream-sequence where they had to dig themselves out of a hole! Nor did they have to actually dig themselves out of a hole! If anyone wants to be scared, they can do it themselves.

He takes a big sip of his tea. It’s quite nice. The box had been labelled Kaminabend, and he tries to remember the name for when they’re out of this place.

Time passes. There’s a lot of semi-awkward small talk, Technoblade talking about his farming rival, Tommy talking about all of the slop he’d been cooking the past few weeks. The rain ended, and Jack went to go grab their stuff from upstairs, ready to head out…

<>

[RECORDING START.]

[ONLY TECHNOBLADE IS VISIBLE, STANDING IN FRONT OF NIKI’S CAR. THE BONNET IS OPEN, REVEALING THE ENGINE UNDERNEATH, AND HE IS STANDING WITH HIS ARMS CROSSED.]

[Technoblade] “Look, no matter how many times you keep asking, it won’t change what’s happened. Someone’s chewed through your rotor arm.”

[Niki] “What do you mean someone’s chewed through my rotor arm? Chewed?”

[Technoblade] “I don’t know how or why, these things are made of metal, you can come have a look for yourself.”

[NIKI WALKS OVER, POINTING THE CAR INTO THE BONNET. TECHNOBLADE IS HOLDING UP A HUNK OF METAL THAT VERY DISTINCTLY LOOKS LIKE IT HAS BEEN MASHED IN SOMEONE’S MOUTH.]

[Niki] “What the fuck?”

[Technoblade] “There’s a mechanic in the village, he can probably either get you a new one on the spot or order one in.”

[Niki] “And how long will that take?”

[Technoblade] “Well, if he does it on the spot, it’ll be done by the end of the day, else you might have to wait a bit.”

[Niki] “Okay, okay… That’ll work. We’ll be fine. Alright.”

[THERE IS THE SOUND OF THE FRONT DOOR CREAKING OPEN. THE CAMERA TURNS: IT IS DIFFICULT TO SEE ANYTHING OVER THE OPEN BOOT, BUT IT IS POSSIBLE TO BRIEFLY GLIMPSE TOMMY AND JACK - BOTH CARRYING LARGE BAGS - LEAVE THE HOUSE.]

[Technoblade] “I can give you guys a lift to the village, if you want. My farm’s in that direction anyway.”

[THE BOOT SLAMS SHUT.]

[Jack] “Did something happen?”

[TECHNOBLADE LIFTS THE ABSOLUTELY DIGESTED ROTOR ARM.]

[Jack] “...Ah.”

[Technoblade] “I’ll take you guys down to the mechanic, I know him, he’s a good guy.”

[Jack] “So we’re stuck here..?”

[Technoblade] “Well, there is a hotel in the village, if you’re willing to dish out.”

[JACK SIGHS.]

[Technoblade] “Anyway, if you guys are ready, I’m thinking of leaving now..?”

[Niki] “That sounds good.”

[Tommy] “I’m down.”

[Jack] “Get me out of here…”

[THERE IS A LOT OF WIND AS THEY WALK DOWN THE HILL AND THE FOOTAGE IS SHAKY. SOON, THEY ARE BY THE GATES, AND NIKI PASSES THE PHONE TO JACK TO UNLOCK THEM. THERE IS A SEQUENCE OF PEOPLE STRUGGLING TO CLIMB UP INTO THE TRACTOR, TECHNOBLADE EVENTUALLY HAVING TO CLIMB DOWN AND LIFT THEM ALL IN. JACK IS THE LAST TO GO.]

[THE INSIDE OF THE TRACTOR IS MOSTLY UNDECORATED, SAVE FOR A SMALL, WHITE DOG DANGLING ON A CHAIN FROM THE REAR-VIEW MIRROR.]

[THE CAMERA PANS. USUALLY, IT’S MADE FOR TWO PEOPLE, BUT THERE ARE FOUR OF THEM. NIKI AND JACK ARE SHARING A SEAT, TOMMY SITTING HORIZONTALLY ACROSS THEM, TECHNOBLADE WITH THE DRIVER’S SEAT TO HIMSELF.]

[Jack] “Is this safe?”

[Technoblade] “Ehhh… nah.”

[Jack] “That’s… that’s nice to know.”

[THERE IS FUMBLING AS JACK PULLS THE SEATBELT ACROSS ALL THREE OF THEM.]

[TECHNOBLADE TURNS THE KEY IN THE IGNITION.]

[NOTHING HAPPENS.]

[Technoblade] “Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

[Niki] “What’s happened?” 

[Technoblade] “Looks like someone’s sabotaged the tractor, too.”

[JACK PANS THE CAMERA. HE THEN PAUSES AND POINTS IT DIRECTLY THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN.]

[IT’S BARELY VISIBLE, BUT THERE, BY THE FRONT OF THE TRACTOR - HIDDEN WITHIN THE REFLECTION - IS THE MAN IN THE BILLOWY CLOTHES. NOW THAT HE’S CLOSE, IT’S POSSIBLE TO MAKE OUT HIS BLONDE HAIR, BUT EVERYTHING ELSE IS TOO FAINT TO SEE. HIS HAND IS STUCK THROUGH THE CAR BONNET.]

[Jack] “Fuck’s sake, I know what this is. Everybody out!”

[Niki] “What–?”

[JACK HAS ALREADY UNDONE THE SEATBELT, PUSHING TOMMY OFF OF THEIR LAPS. TOMMY STUMBLES DOWN THE SIDE OF THE TRACTOR, JACK FOLLOWING SOON AFTER, THEN NIKI - ALBEIT SLIGHTLY MORE GRACEFULLY.]

[Jack] “Try the car now!”

[THE TRACTOR STARTS.]

[Tommy] “Oh, lit!”

[HE GOES TO CLIMB BACK UP, BUT THE MOMENT HE TOUCHES IT, IT GOES SILENT.]

[Jack] “Just what I thought. The ghosts don’t want us leaving.”

[Technoblade] “The what!?”

[Jack] “Actually, haha, if you could uh, get the mechanic to come out, that would be great.”

[Jack] “Just remembered we’ve got some uh, stuff to do.”

[TECHNOBLADE STARES AT JACK. HE DOES NOT ANSWER. HE STARTS THE ENGINE, STILL LOOKING INTO JACK’S EYES, AND DRIVES OFF.]

[Tommy] “We’re stuck here, aren’t we?”

[JACK AND NIKI BOTH SIGH]

<>

Jack can’t help but stay thinking about how that ghost had been looking at him.

The weather has gotten worse, and despite the fact it was only five PM, it looks like it’s nighttime outside. The three of them have moved to the living room, or at least that was what Tommy called it, which - like the rest of the house - is unnecessarily fancy and unnecessarily dust-covered. None of them say it, but they’re spooked, Niki having lit every single lamp in the entire room, the three of them huddled around the table and playing UNO.

They’re quiet.

Lightning flashes, and not long after, thunder cracks.

“A storm?” Niki asks, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” Tommy replies. “Be careful on the second floor, a lot of the rooms have leaks in them.”

He puts down a card on top of Jack’s. “Uno.”

Lightning flashes again.

“Is it just me, or is it cold in here?” Jack shivers. He’s in joggers and a t-shirt, hardly the dress for the weather they’re having, but his hoodies were all packed in his bag.

“We could start the fire, if we get some kindling,” Niki offers. There is a fireplace after all. “Did Tante Zsuzsa have any newspapers lying around?”

“I think there’s some in a basket in the kitchen,” Tommy says, getting up. “Don’t mess with my cards.”

Niki and Jack both wait in silence, neither doing anything. Both have their eyes on the door, waiting impatiently for Tommy to come back, both of them paranoid that he’s not going to return.

However, only a minute later, he’s back, a bunch of old newspapers under his armpit, taking them out and waving them above his head triumphantly. “Not in the kitchen, but there were some in the downstairs bathroom!”

“Great, pass them here,” Niki asks, already digging around in her hand bag for her lighter. The two of them go to the fireplace, Tommy watching Niki work, and Jack’s so distracted by them that he nearly doesn’t notice the window.

There, in the window, is a small patch of condensation. He wouldn’t think much of it, usually: it’s raining! Of course there’s condensation! Except for the fact that, in a rhythmic pattern, it fades, before returning.

Like a person breathing. Jack feels his blood run cold.

“The key is to have the kindling, then things that burn easily, and then things that burn long,” Niki explains, but Jack isn’t paying attention. The condensation has disappeared. Whatever’s behind that glass has moved, and he doesn’t like that he doesn’t know where. “So you have the kindling, the sticks that are a bit too much to be kindling, and then the logs.”

Jack looks around frantically. There’s only one window, but it’s large, both tall and wide. Wait! There, in the middle of the window, is a patch where the rain refuses to run down, avoiding it at all costs.

Lighting flashes. For a second, Jack is blinded. But then - in the after image - he sees it.

The guy from the basement. Wilbur. His image is already fading on Jack’s retinas, his entire face - grinning - pressed against the window, sand running from his mouth, finger pointing.

Pointing at the door behind him. He turns around slowly, knowing he won’t like what he sees.

The doorway looks empty, but the way that Jack’s hair stands up on the back of his neck tells him it’s not. Both the wind and the rain pick up, and he can hear something in the house rattle. He’s facing the door. Thunder from the previous strike crashes, and then the world is bright white again.

Once again, it’s there in the after-image. Standing in the door, lit cigarette in hand…

Jebidiah Schlatt.

Jack literally cannot breathe.

In the background, a lighter clicks.

“There we go!” Niki exclaims. “Okay, we’ve got the fire going, this is good. It should warm up in a second.”

The fire becomes a gentle flicker in the corner of Jack’s eye. Niki and Tommy take their seats back at the table. Jack forces himself to look away from the door, but his mind is still on it, unable to break away. Thunder crashes. The rain beats down on the windows.

Niki plays her card.

“It’s your turn, Jack,” she smiles.

Jack gulps. He puts down a card mindlessly.

“Draw four!?” Tommy screeches. “Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Jack can smell tobacco. He bounces his leg.

Niki looks very pleased as Tommy pulls from the card pile, a sour look on his face.

He immediately puts a draw two.

“Screw you, Tommy,” Niki says, Tommy sticking his tongue out at her.

Lightning flashes.

He’s there again. Sat at the empty seat at the table, UNO cards spread out in one hand and a cigar between his teeth, he’s staring straight at Jack.

Niki places her card. Jack looks down, snapping his eyes away from Schlatt’s afterimage, but when he goes to choose his card, one’s already placed on top of Niki’s, Tommy already furrowing his brow to think about what to do next.

Schlatt’s there. Schlatt’s there, and he’s able to interact with the physical world, and neither Tommy nor Niki can see him. Jack feels helpless. Powerless. The next lightning flash, he dreads what will happen, his hands trembling.

Lightning flashes. This time, his entire vision is eclipsed by Schlatt’s face, and his neck sears with pain. He desperately tries to inhale, but it’s like there’s something lodged in his throat, the only thing he manages being a weak wheeze.

“Jack, are you okay?” Niki asks, sounding worried. 

Jack can’t answer, Jack can’t breathe.

Schlatt’s choking him. Schlatt’s choking him. He claws at his throat, desperately trying to dislodge Schlatt’s hands, trying to shake them off. He barely notices as his shoulder hits the floor, having fallen out of his chair, still trying to pry Schlatt’s hands off.

Black spots form in his vision. He can feel the pressure building up in his head. Niki’s there now, trying to get him to stop tearing at his throat.

Then, the pressure ceases. Jack’s chest heaves as he’s finally able to inhale.

“Jack– Jack, calm down, Jack,” Niki begs, pulling his hands from his neck. Jack looks down. There’s blood smeared on his hands.

“Schlatt–” Jack panics. “Schlatt was choking me, Niki, I–”

He can feel tears gather in his eyes. He can breathe. He can breathe. He just survived getting choked, for the second time in a two day period, he was fine, he was–

He puts his face in his hands and just cries.

“I just want to go home,” he sobs, Niki’s arms wrapping around him from the side.

“Look– If Technoblade doesn’t come with the mechanic tomorrow, we can just walk down to the village,” Niki soothes. “I want to be out of here as soon as possible, but we’re stuck here until the weather clears.”

Jack nods, taking his hands from his face to wrap them around Niki.

No one sleeps easy in the house that night.

Dear Philza Minnenhandwerk,

Your son has abandoned me. I last saw him when visiting Schlatt, and he has made no attempt of approach or contact since. I am requesting the return of my dowry.

Sally Hertzsprung.

Chapter Text

Jack’s standing in the middle of a black void. He can’t see anything but himself, and he feels weirdly hazy, like when he looks down he can’t quite see himself properly.

Then, there in the distance, there’s someone. 

They’re walking towards him at a steady pace, water rippling as they step, and they don’t seem to have noticed him even though they’re walking straight at him. It’s… strange. They’re close enough for him to make out properly, but nothing’s making sense: sometimes, they have a normal head, sometimes, they have the head of a sheep, sometimes they have a mix of both. It’s hard to look at them.

“Should be around here,” they mutter, eyes cast down, walking in a straight line directly towards Jack.

Jack just watched. He couldn’t walk anywhere - not that he was trying, he just knew he couldn’t. He waited, and it wasn’t until the person was nearly right on top of him that they stopped.

“Ah,” they said, looking up at him. “This is what I was sensing.”

Then, the person’s next words seem to shake his entire soul, the world reverberating around him.

“DING DONG.”

Jack wakes up at 5AM very suddenly.

It’s not a quiet, calm sort of waking. No, he immediately sits up, looking around, trying to figure out why. The room is dark, Tommy and Niki are still asleep, so why..?

He has vague memories of his dream. There was a boy… and a sheep? And everything was black… The only thing he could properly remember was the ending, the call of the “DING DONG” still ringing in his ears. Still, after his previous dreams the past few nights, he had to say that he preferred it to, for example, waking up getting choked.

Still, he feels completely alert. Awake. Ready for action.

When the doorbell rings and Tommy nearly falls off of his mattress in shock, Jack feels… unsurprised.

“Someone’s here…” he says, getting to his feet.

“Oi, oi, don’t leave me!” Tommy complains, but Jack is already out the door, rushing down the stairs. 

The doorbell rings again. Jack’s already by the door, fumbling with the lock.

It comes undone. There, on the other side, is the goat boy.

“Hello,” he says, in perfect English, with a slight southern accent. He’s dressed in a shitty little rain poncho, and clutching an equally shitty camera in one of his hands. He’s got mud up to his knees, like he’d hiked the entire way there. “My name is Tubbo. I hear you have ghosts.”

“Yeah, yeah, we have ghosts,” Jack says, stepping to the side. A second later, there is a large rattling - starting at Tommy’s room and descending through the house - and then it stops, Tommy sprinting out into the hallway.

“YOU!” Tommy shouts, thrusting his finger out.

“WELL, HELLO, CUNT,” Tubbo replies, eyes wide and mocking. Well, eye. Jack hadn’t noticed it under the kid’s hair, but it looks like someone had taken a good chunk out of the guy’s right eyeball at some point. All that’s left is scarring. “HOW’S YOUR CAREER AS A FAKE GHOST GOING!?”

“WELL, I DIDN’T FUCKING ASK YOU TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE, DID I?” Tommy asks, throwing up a middle finger.

“I take it you two know each other?” Jack asks, though he has a feeling he doesn’t want to know.

“Last time this prick was here, he broke into my fucking house!” 

“Oi, squatting a house doesn’t make it yours! Nor does it give you any right to fucking THROW CHAIRS AT ME.” Tubbo crossed his arms. “Besides, this time I’ve got actual reason to be here. There’s a massive fucking spirit signature in that room right over there.”

Tubbo points. He’s pointing at the room, the one where Niki’s great-great-great-uncle’s wife’s brother’s best friend had died of starvation.

That wasn’t good. That was not good.

“You got keys?” Tubbo asks, walking up to it. He kneels down, peering through the keyhole, and makes an appreciative noise.

“The keyhole’s blocked, don’t bother,” Jack says.

“No, it’s not,” both Tommy and Tubbo say in unison.

“Yes it is!” Jack says. 

Tubbo looks at him like he’s just said something really funny.

“Well, I have a strong feeling that shit’s about to get really–” Tubbo starts, but then suddenly coughs. 

He tumbles to his knees, hacking, one hand bracing him on the floor and the other hand covering his mouth. Whatever’s coming out of his mouth, it’s coming out in chunks, and from the iron-like smell, Jack has a strong feeling it isn’t just what he’d eaten that morning.

“Damn,” Tubbo gasps, barely managing to get it out between bouts of coughing. “They really hate gay people in this household.”

Tommy’s staring in horror. Jack doesn’t know what to do.

Then, there’s the sound of something creaking on the other side of the door. 

Tommy’s on the floor, trying to help Tubbo breathe, but Jack doesn’t help - there’s no point, he wouldn’t know what to do - instead dropping to his knees and peering through the keyhole. There, in an armchair, facing diagonally towards the door, is a skeleton. It’s still covered in a leathery layer of skin, and clothes.

Well, rumour has it, they never removed his body, he remembers Niki’s words.

Then, the skeleton has eyes. The whites are the only parts properly visible, seeming to be lit in their own light, the pupils and irises just an unilluminated spot. They’re staring straight at Jack. The air in the hallway starts turning frigidly cold, and Jack can feel his hands get clammy with sweat.

Jack blinks. The man is no longer a corpse. Same clothes, same eyes, but instead of a leathery husk of a skeleton it’s a man. He sort of glows, lightly, with a greyish sort of hue, and he’s staring straight at the door. Jack knows he’s spotted: he has the feeling that he was being watched from the moment he came downstairs.

“What do you want?” Jack asks, voice shaking outside of his control. The man sort of smiles, moving to rest his head on his hand.

“Several things,” the ghost says, looking incredibly comfortable. It’s the man from the door, he realises: he’s wearing a hat, this time, and a different suit, but the scar is unmistakable.

“Yes, but what!?” Jack demands, panic lacing his voice. “What will make you let us go!?”

“Oh,” the man replies, pushing himself up to his feet. When he moves, the skeleton is still there. “I’m not the one keeping you here.”

He walks over to the fire, picking up a poker, and strolls back to the door. Jack doesn’t really process what’s about to happen until it does.

Tubbo grabs his arm, yanking it to the side. The fire poker is thrust out of the keyhole, just inches away from Jack’s head, and– that would’ve been his eye. That would’ve been his eye, if Jack had stayed still for just another moment. Tubbo’s arm releases its grip on Jack, falling limp, and Tommy - who has one hand on the pulse at Tubbo’s throat - freezes.

“He’s… he’s dead,” Tommy says, staring up at Jack.

“Wait, wait, he’s not dead until he’s braindead, right?” Jack tries to reason, but the logic sounds stupid even to him. “Niki said that it takes two hours and…”

Niki. Niki.

Niki.

Niki hadn’t woken up with them.

Every single morning so far, without fail, one of them has been moved. Before, it had mainly been Jack. Niki hadn’t woken up with them. He hadn’t checked to see if she was there.

Niki hadn’t woken up with them.

“NIKI!” Jack screams, leaping to his feet. She could be– She could be anywhere. The house was massive. She could–

“HELLO, JACK!” comes a cackle from down the hall. It’s– It’s… It’s Niki? It’s her voice, but without the slight German accent, it’s unnatural, it’s–

He takes off down the hall. Someone– That’s not Niki. Someone’s done something to her. He can hardly think straight, his heartbeat thudding so hard that he can feel it in every part of his body. He skids, tearing down the hallway, nearly crashing into the wall as he turns the corner, and there..

In the middle of the sitting room, the lamps lit, the fireplace lit, daylight-bright, is Niki. She’s sitting in the armchair she’d been in the first time, legs kicked up onto an ottoman, a lit cigar between two of her fingers. There’s a sort of grin on her face that doesn’t belong there – it’s unnatural, nothing like how Niki smiles, filled with condescension. 

Not to mention what she’s wearing.

She’s in a suit, at least three sizes too big. It hangs off of her, and with how baggy it is, it takes Jack a minute to notice the blooming bloodstain at her midriff. There’s a hole in the shirt there.

Jack prays that it’s just on the surface like the previous times.

“What are you doing with my friend,” Jack asks, feeling tears stream down his cheeks. This is– This is too far. The moving them while they slept, the hallucinations, he could take that, but that’s Niki there, in that chair, and someone’s just– taken over her body.

“Hey, hey, let’s stay civil here, I’m not doing anything!” Niki says, again, still in that accent that isn’t hers, taking a puff of her cigar. She crosses her legs on the ottoman, pulling out a wine bottle from who-knows-where, and takes the cork out with her teeth, raising it to pour some in her mouth.

Sand spills out straight into her face.

“EUGH!” she cries, dropping the bottle. It shatters on the floor. “Why the fuck is that full of SAND!?”

“Let Niki go!” Jack demands. He doesn’t know what to do. He has no clue what he even can do. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he doesn’t want whatever spirit - probably Schlatt - to hurt her either.

“Calm down, calm down, what is it with all of you and being so pressed?” Niki asks, wiping the sand from her eyelashes. “God, this is why we torment the living. You’re all so reactionary. Live a little!”

She swings her arm, and the furniture starts to move.

Jack tries to step back, but there’s a stool there, shoving him forwards. He stumbles forwards, only to be hit by another armchair, shoving him in the opposite direction. Soon, he’s caught up in the swirling furniture, in a sort of waltz of getting hit by it until he moves. 

Niki is standing on the armchair, now, one foot on one of the arms and the other on the back, watching Jack stumble around. Intermittently, she takes a drag of the cigar, blowing the smoke out of her nose.

“Dance, dance, little jester guy!” she claps, delighted. “Oh, I wish I could film this… That would be incredible! Go on, go on!”

“Jack! Niki!” Tommy calls out, standing in the doorway. He looks out of breath, his hands covered in blood, face wet like he’s been crying.

“Get out of here!” Jack calls out desperately.

“Oh, another dancer!” Niki shouts. “Oh, this is brilliant! I haven’t had this much fun in… oh, when was the last time Wilbur left?”

A chair tries to scoop Tommy into the room, but Jack - thinking on his feet - lunges, grabbing Niki by the edge of her blazer and yanking her off of her perch. The chair misses, slamming into the wall with such force that it shatters apart - Tommy jumping away. For a second, the furniture loses coordination, but then Niki falls onto Jack and evidently gets her bearings, because she turns around to face him with that same not-Niki grin.

“Oh, you want to dance, do you?” Niki asks, one hand grabbing his waist, the other gripping his hand with the kind of strength that Niki should not have. “Oh, we can dance, Jack, we can dance.”

She yanks him so hard he can feel his back crack, tilting him backwards, dragging him into a waltz. He can’t keep up: his legs are basically dragging, he’s struggling, he can’t really breathe–

The furniture is fairly silent as it moves, which means that the slow footsteps in the hallway are fully audible. Niki doesn’t react, and Jack just assumes it’s another one of the ghosts.

“You know what,” Tubbo’s voice calls out. Jack can’t see him from the angle Niki’s got him, but he tries to crane around anyway. “I’ve figured it out. At first I thought you hated gay people, and then I thought that maybe you were gay people, but now I know the truth!”

All of the furniture in the room freezes. Niki drops Jack to the floor, and he immediately starts coughing, having been more-or-less unable to breathe for the past five minutes.

Tubbo takes a step into the room. "You're not homophobic - you're divorced!"

“Who the fuck are you!?” Niki hisses, the furniture raising up and spinning again, this time with renewed vigour. Jack keeps his head down in order to not get brained by a table leg. “Are you one of those fucking exorcist freaks from the city? Fuckin’ hate you lot.”

“The who?” Tubbo asks, tilting his head. “No, I’m not a exorcist, I just think it’s a bit weirdchamp to possess people.”

“Same thing, same th– Wait, hang on, why am I arguing with a teenager?” Niki asks, face contorting in disgust. “Actually, I have a great solution. Catch!”

A chair flies out of the ring of spinning furniture. Jack’s sure that Tubbo will dodge it - he’d reacted even quicker with the fire poker - but…

Crack.

It hits Tubbo straight in the head. 

“Damn, uh, I uh, really thought he would dodge that,” Niki says, seemingly shocked by her own actions. Tubbo’s body is still standing: at first, Jack thought that the head had been blown straight off, but no - it’s just at an angle, tilted ninety degrees backwards. “Well! What’s done is done. Being a ghost is basically a life sentence anyway.”

Then, Tubbo’s body starts shaking. It’s aggressive, and grotesque, and both Niki and Jack can do nothing but stare in silence as it continues.

“Did I do that when I died..?” Niki asks.

Then, Tubbo’s head pops up.

Except, it’s not Tubbo. 

His eye - the one that had appeared gouged out - is blooming with flowers that drift to the floor. Where the poker ghost had been greyish and where Schlatt was just… normal, Tubbo looked like he was being lit by some sort of external light - but only his head. Tubbo turned to the side, looking behind him, and there was his actual head, hanging limp behind him.

“Damn, that’s gonna take me a month to repair,” he tuts. “Cunt.”

“Fucking hell, are you posessing your own dead body?” Niki asks, making a gagging noise. “The fuck is wrong with you? Eugh, that’s actually disgusting.”

“Well, ghosts are most powerful in the place that they died,” Tubbo smiles, raising his hand. “I think you’ve had enough of possessing random women.”

“Oi, don’t phrase it like that, it makes it sound weirder than it–”

Niki’s speech is interrupted by a guttural scream. Jack had never, ever, not in his entire life, heard a scream like that. She sounds like she’s dying, and despite the fact that she’s possessed, Jack leaps to his feet, grabbing her by the shoulders to support her.

There’s a panicked look in her eye, half feral. She’s not screaming anymore, she’s sort of– it’s like a mix of panting, groaning and wailing, her eyes shaking and neck flopping back. Jack’s the only thing keeping her standing.

“You’re hurting her!” he cries out, lowering her to the floor.

“Well, duh, she was possessed,” Tubbo says, rolling his eyes. He steps forwards, his whole ghostly figure emerging, his body flopping down to the floor behind him. “Spoiler, getting exorcised hurts! Or not spoiler. I think it’s fairly obvious at this point.”

Niki’s shaking now, entire body wracked with shivers, all of her attention focussed on Tubbo.

“Let… me… go…” she wheezes, head lolling to the side.

“Let go of her body,” Tubbo counters.

She grins shakily, but it’s all teeth. “Tou…ché…”

The shaking increases. Niki’s outline grows fuzzy with the shaking, like the people had been in Jack’s dream, and then…

First, Jack thinks he’s cradling Jebidiah Schlatt in his arms, making him drop the body to the floor. He then realises that it was in fact just Schlatt’s ghost floating up and out of Niki’s body, both middle fingers pointed straight at Tubbo, and disappearing into the ceiling.

“Niki..?” Jack asks tentatively. Her eyes flutter open, and she coughs weakly.

Then, she coughs strongly, blood coming out of the corner of her lips.

“Oh, uh, has that happened before?” Tubbo asks as Jack helps Niki lean over, holding her hair back as she spits blood onto the carpet. “That… that’s not meant to happen.”

“Every fucking time,” Niki coughs, spitting more blood onto the carpet. “Why do I have to be the one to cough blood? I watched a video essay on women in horror once, this is sexism, why am I always the one with no agency?”

“Well, these ghosts are from the 19th century,” Tubbo shrugs.

“Wait– where’s Tommy?” Jack asks. He does not want another repeat of the ‘Niki getting possessed’ incident.

“Basement,” Tubbo replies. “The ghost there likes him, they’re probably having a nice cup of tea or something. Or sand. Tommy’s probably terrified, honestly, but at the very least it’ll keep him away from the situation.”

“Basement ghost?” Niki asks, wiping the last of the blood onto the blazer. “There’s a basement ghost!?”

It was a long fucking day.

[RECORDING START.]

[THEY’RE BY NIKI’S CAR, TUBBO ELBOW-DEEP IN THE CAR’S BONNET. HE LOOKS SLIGHTLY MORE ALIVE, ALTHOUGH HIS NECK DOES NOT LOOK LIKE IT IS ON CORRECTLY. THE WEATHER HAS CALMED DOWN COMPLETELY AND THE SUN IS SHINING.]

[Jack] “...So you’re the town mechanic, then.”

[Tubbo] “Yeeeup. Well, one of two. Being a ghost is real efficient for getting around and fixing things, plus you don’t really need to sleep. Pretty decent, really.”

[TUBBO CONTINUES DIGGING AROUND. IN THE END, HE PULLS OUT THE CHEWED UP ROTOR ARM, WITH AN EXPRESSION OF DISGUST.]

[Tubbo] “Who the fuck..? Those are teeth marks, what the hell. I can’t fix this shit.”

[Jack] “Shit, I thought you’d have the replacement part, Technoblade said he was going to go to the mechanic’s…”

[Tubbo] “Oh, Sam? If someone’s got him, he’ll probably be here pretty soon.”

[Tubbo] “Actually, I can feel a spiritual presence approaching the gate.”

[Jack] “Should we go greet them?”

[TUBBO SHRUGS]

[Tubbo] “Suit yourself.”

[JACK STARTS WALKING DOWN THE HILL. WHEN IT HITS THE STEEPER INCLINE, HE DOES NOT RUN, YET HE STILL SLIPS ON THE WET GRASS, AND THE SCREEN TURNS TO MOTION BLUR AND WIND NOISES FOR A SOLID FIFTEEN SECONDS BEFORE HE MANAGES TO GET BACK ON HIS FEET.]

[HE GETS UP. HE IS NEAR THE GATE.]

[Jack] “That’s happened twice now, is there a ghost haunting the fucking gra…”

[THE CAMERA IS POINTING AT THE GATE. THERE, ON TOP OF THE GATE, IS A PERSON, IMPALED ON ONE OF THE GATE’S SPIKES, THEIR INTESTINES HANGING OUT OF THEIR STOMACH AND GETTING TANGLED ON THE METAL SPIKES. THEY ARE TRYING DESPERATELY TO UNTANGLE THEM.]

[THEY NOTICE JACK, AND STOP. THEIR FACE - ON ONE HALF - IS COVERED IN BLACK MOULD, WHILE THE OTHER HALF IS FUZZY, LIKE A ROTTEN STRAWBERRY.]

[Jack] “...Ayup.”

[???] “Ay-up.”

[THERE ARE FOOTSTEPS OFF-CAMERA]

[Tubbo] “Ranboo…”

[THE IMPALED PERSON - RANBOO - LOOKS SHEEPISH.]

[Tubbo] “This was predictable. One hundred percent predictable. Jack, help me get them down.”

[DISTANTLY, THERE IS THE SOUND OF A VERY LARGE VEHICLE.]

[Tubbo] “Shit, Technoblade and Sam. Hurry– Jack, help me!”

[JACK FUMBLES THE CAMERA, TURNING IT TOWARDS HIMSELF.]

[RECORDING END]

Dear Sally,

You will be happy to know that I have found your fiance! He was in my basement! Dead.

Many thanks, 

Minx.

PS Don’t blame you - he was a RIGHT cunt - go marry someone better

Chapter Text

[RECORDING START.]

[IT IS IN NIKI’S APARTMENT BACK IN BERLIN. IT IS MIDDAY, AND THEY ARE IN NIKI’S ROOM, JACK FILMING FROM BEHIND NIKI AS THEY HAVE YOUTUBE UP ON SCREEN. NIKI’S MOUSE IS HOVERING OVER THE “UPLOAD” BUTTON.]

[Niki] “So, we’re one hundred percent sure we want to upload this.”

[Jack] “Yes, one hundred percent.”

[THE VIDEO IS TITLED “I WENT TO MY NAN’S HOUSE AT 3AM (GONE WRONG) (GONE SPOOKY). THE THUMBNAIL IS OF THE BASEMENT, WITH TWO EYES VISIBLE IN THE DARK.]

[NIKI CLICKS UPLOAD.]

[THE LOADING BAR STARTS.]

[Jack] “Wow, I really thought it’d be a bit more… immediate.”

[Niki] “I’ve got shit bandwidth.”

[Jack] “So, there begins our career as youtube clickbaiters?”

[Niki] “Youtube ghosthunter clickbaiters.”

[Jack] “I literally cannot believe that that entire time, I completely forgot to process that ghosts were real.”

[Niki, laughing] “Same.”

Tommy ends up staying at the house. The ghosts, absolutely, on nearly all occasions, do not target him. Niki and Jack become wildly successful ghosthunters, and Tante Zsuzsa ends up passing the manor onto Niki as she permanently moves to an old people’s home.

As per tradition, Niki and Jack go back there every year.

Ghosts are only slightly less scary when you’re already aware they’re there.