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Summary
Sasha fixed Tim and Martin with a glare that was deathly serious. “But why should that stop us? It is— or was, I suppose, given... everything— our literal job to investigate supernatural events. If the police won’t figure out what happened to the Institute, we’ll do it. Doesn’t everyone deserve that? Doesn’t Jon deserve that? ”
In the face of an unyielding apocalypse, the being that was once Jonathan Sims has a final, desperate idea. The archival assistants pick up the pieces.
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Bookmark Notes:
“Right. How you get into my flat, again?” Sasha asked at the same moment that Tim demanded, “Did you murder everyone at the Institute?” and Martin asked “Do you want some tea?”
“To answer your questions: I walked, no, and no. I’m not planning on staying too long,” Lukas said as he stretched out on the couch. Now that Sasha was really looking at him, it was rather impressive how much he looked like a sailor. It was almost cartoonish. He had the turtleneck, the coat, even the beard. Sasha wasn’t sure if Elias, rest his soul, had the best choice in successors.
Slowly, Tim lowered his butter knife. “Okay,” he said. “Uh huh. Cool. Do you know what did kill everyone?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not omniscient, so no. Imagine my shock when I pop in to visit Elias and stumble upon a crime scene.” He shook his head. “It caught me completely off guard. Although it makes my life easier, I think I’ll miss the man. Always thought he’d go out with more of a bang, though, with more Regency theatrics. Honestly, I’d like to know what happened to him as much as the rest of you. Because I’m certain he didn’t see this coming, and that is— or, well, was — rather out of character for him.”
Sasha shot Tim a Look. He silently mouthed “What the fuck.”
As utterly unbelievable as all of her coworkers dropping dead in an instant was, it didn't break Sasha's worldview. The Magnus Institute had been created to investigate the supernatural, so of course the supernatural destroyed it. And even if the killer defied understanding, it was at least consistent in its execution. But this… it just didn’t make sense. Plain and simple. Internal logic had been thrown out the window. Phantasmal forces of death didn’t shoot people with guns. So what made Jon special? Why was he shot, while everyone else got to have a heart attack?
Melanie leaned forward, disbelief twisting her expression. “Wait, seriously? You work at the Magnus Institute? On purpose?”
“I—” Martin blushed with self-consciousness. He knew the Institute hadn’t had the greatest reputation in some circles, but he wasn’t sure that her Melanie’s reaction was warranted. “Not anymore. It paid the bills.”
“Fair enough. You seem too smart to take them seriously. What made you quit? Realize the pay wasn’t worth working for a glorified conspiracy theory repository?”
“No, uh—” Martin cleared his throat, which had suddenly become thick. “Um. All my coworkers sort of… died.”
Melanie sobered instantly. “Pardon?”
“Eighty-five people. Murdered.”
“Oh.” Melanie stared at Martin. “You can’t be serious.”
“I mean. I am.”
“How did they all die?”
Martin grimaced. “The Head of the Institute, he, ah…” he let the sentence trail off into silence. He didn’t feel like explaining the minutiae of the whole magic eyes thing to her.
“Oh.”
“That’s why I think my dead boss might be there. Because it’s where he…you know.”
Melanie’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Of course.” she looked away awkwardly. “Sorry.”
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Probably the coolest TMA fic I've ever read?? Like ever????? Holy shit. The writing and pacing was really good, the characters felt so real (I got so emotional during some of their conversations), the plot was really cool and while I did kind of see where it was going based on the tags, I DID get caught off gaurd a few times, there were parts that made me giggle alot, and parts that made me cry.
I wish I could give 100 million kudos this is awesome
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