TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

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Jump ⇅ :: Arrival — Panorama — Fringes — Invite Request

The Diadem is an invite-only panfandom game set in a retro-futuristic world where uprooted souls find themselves deep within an eerie wasteland of roads and highways frequently assailed by cosmic storms. Three united strongholds keep the population. Its capital is Panorama, a large metropolis at the planet's center.

Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.

But first, you need to find a ride.

No invites needed to play on the TDM. Everyone's welcome! Use the Invite Request thread below to request an invite from another player.

∞ Summary ∞

IC-wise, arrivals are scattered throughout the month. Events described on the TDM are also ongoing throughout the month. If you'd rather jump right into the action, you're free to begin in media res with your character having already been on the planet for several days.

Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.

Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:

• Pick an injury. At minimum, they got knocked out; at most, whatever they can recover from. Medicine is decently advanced so they'll heal faster if not painlessly.
• Decide items kept. Reasonable items on their person only: photos, keys, clothes, costumes. No pets or animal companions. Wildly out-of-place tech and personal cell phones will be damaged beyond repair.
• Select a weapon. Do this only if eligible. Guidelines about weapons and powers are on the FAQ.
• Choose a vehicle. Decide whether your character gets 2-3 options or if they're stuck with something they hate. Players can pick directly from our collection or source their own images. Anything under a similar aesthetic will work. If your character needs accommodations for driving, they can have them. Ask us for details.
• Get a phone. Characters have to obtain a phone (and a SIM card) themselves. If they've got one from home, it's damaged beyond repair. Phones are cheap. It'll only take a couple of weeks to afford one. You need to know the number before you text or call anyone. Read about phones and the Forum before you hop on it.

TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.

TDM Questions? Here — Game Questions? FAQ

Setting — Taken — Reserves — Applications ::: ⇅ Top

Fluxdrift

Arrival & Introduction

Date: Throughout May

You've tumbled over a cliff. You were fighting for your life. You're on the cusp of death. You slipped in the shower. Whatever the catalyst, you struggle to cling to consciousness. As darkness overtakes you, a swirling vortex warps light and shadow in a way that defies all physics. A dark wail etches into your very bones. You couldn't describe it if you tried. You can barely comprehend what it is.

Then you open your eyes.

Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.

You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.

Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.

You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender

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Panorama

Explore & Settle In

Conditions: Warm spring temperatures, light showers

After 2 hours on the road, you find civilization. The largest of the strongholds, Panorama is where the economy thrives. Massive power plants glowing red make it visible from a distance. The city is divided into three districts. For now, you can access the Pavilion and the Blocks. Don't worry about the Sanctum; they're not letting you in.

You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.

The Pavilion: Free Samples

©

Like any large city, Panorama features a couple of supermarkets. The stock's not as consistent as a proper supermarket. On occasion, shelves can remain cleaned out for a week or two. Regardless, the long tradition of free samples remains. If you're not already shopping, you'll notice the crowded parking lot and clusters of lines inside.

Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.

As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.

Samples include: steamed cabbage dumplings, synthetic cherry juice, cheddar cheese, and chocolate-covered alien eggs (it's crunchy and weirdly tasty). They're served in the usual throwaway paper cups with little toothpicks.

The Blocks: Power Outage

©

Power's finicky in Panorama, especially in the Blocks. Saint Margery's Hospital, located in the same area, has priority for power so the first to go are the motels. Maybe you've been in your room for a couple of weeks, maybe you just got here—and by the way, every motel desk is happy to put the fee on your tab if you don't have the money upfront—but all the motels on the east side are in a blackout, leaving only the west side motels up and running.

What do you do? You have three choices:

• Risk leaving your room and head to the other side where there's power. Knock on some doors and negotiate with another to share the room. They might shut the door in your face, ask for a favor in return, or be nice enough to help you with no strings attached. There's no guarantee your unattended room will be untouched, though, and you'll be on the hook for any damages an intruder causes.
• Sit in the dark and deal. It's not the worst idea, but the TV's down, the vending machines are powered down, and with the entire place plunged into darkness, you risk getting robbed. If you struggle with defending yourself, you might want to find some trustworthy company. You can also sneak out of there and let them take your leftover pizza. It's not like you've got a ton of valuables, right? Plus, clobbering someone in the face with a frying pan sounds great until you realize you've gotta do something with the body. And what if this person's got a friend waiting?
• Get in your car and drive (or grab a friend for a road trip). If you scroll the Forum, you might notice reports on diffusion zones southward. Besides, these motels are hardly your forever home. The city can only provide so much. Why not go for a ride and see what you can find out there?

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: clean up on aisle 3 (what is that goo?); a knock at your door but no one's there; you hear screaming or a commotion down the hall

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©

The Fringes

Quad 3: Lockdown

Conditions: Stormy, with flooding roads

Felix Bjurstrom
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57

> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.

Whether you end up here on your own or you were following a tip on the Forum, the outcome is the same: you come to a stop in front of a 2-story office building that's flooded several inches deep. Emergency lights from a roadblock flicker through the stormy night. Stepping out of your car, you're soaked within seconds. When you check your phone, you don't have any bars. No calls in or out.

Through the open windows, a computer awakens and displays a cheerful smile. The lights inside switch on.

Pick your scenario role below. Your thread partner doesn't need to take the opposite role! They can join you in the same scenario (i.e. trapped together). Players are also free to create a generic NPC for the other side to facilitate the thread.

After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.

A: Sealed In
As you peer through the windows, you see crates of medicine floating around. Antibiotics in the diadem are valuable. Hospitals and doctors are always buying. You can keep it for yourself or make a quick buck. Or maybe you're compelled to help somebody back in the city who's in need. Whatever the reason, you decide to take the risk and step inside.

Water splashes around your ankles. The lock buzzes behind you. If you try to break the windows, you discover they're unnaturally resistant to shattering. With the whole place locked tight, the water begins to churn. Then the computer lights up again.

Warning, it flashes in large, bold text. Quarantine in progress. Release code required for exit.

• To find the code, you'll have to search. Duck under the water, go through sopping envelopes and sticky notes or pick the locks on the filing cabinets and desk drawers. You can also try hacking the computers. Use your computer knowledge or fall back on the age-old trick of seeing who wrote down their password.
• The files, notepads, and emails start innocuous, but as you look through them, disturbing phrases jump out at you—a dark thought you've had or a cruel taunt from someone in your past. The longer you're fixed on the terrible words, the higher the water begins to rise. Only another can break you out of your trance.
• With the rising water comes fear. And the more you're afraid, the more the water also rises. You begin to see faces in the water, bobbing like balloon heads. Do you recognize them? If you move to take a closer look, they will sink back beneath the surface as if never there.
• If you manage to swallow your panic, you can eventually find a triple-laminated binder with the release code and instructions. Bad news: you need someone on the outside to punch in the 6 strange symbols in order. The instructions explain that the code panel is located at the back of the building.

Let's hope a friendly face comes along.

B: Set Free
As you peer through the windows, you see not just the crates of medicine but someone trapped inside. They look like they might be in trouble, and from your vantage point, you notice that the water is bubbling strangely. It's definitely not normal rainwater. As you watch, the water rises unnaturally, stopping and starting. It's as if the water level is responding to an external stimulus.

• The glass is soundproof. You can't hear what the person inside is saying, so you'll have to communicate with each other another way. Try charades, typing on your phone, or whatever you think of. Eventually, you determine that they're stuck and that you need to enter some sort of code onto a pad located—according to your trapped partner—at the back of the building.
• Around the back, shadows swallow your surroundings. The panel must be pried open, but a slippery substance makes it hard to get a good grip. Each time the substance touches you, you grow uneasy. You swear you see eyes watching you, though when you turn around, nothing's there.
• You can't seem to keep the instructions in your mind. And those symbols...they burn into your retinas. Through them, you glimpse an incomprehensibly massive figure unfurling in the darkness, pulsing as if in a deep sleep. When you snap back to reality, you realize you've injured yourself, slicing your hand on a sharp edge or a bruise you can't remember getting.
• Once you manage to release the doors, the water inside the office drains upward into the sky as though sucked out by a giant hose. The darkness spreads. Get out of there fast before the shadows drag you or your partner into the void.

Of course, you don't have to help anyone. You can leave the individual there, make a deal, or outright extort them. But remember, you're not the only person on these roads. You might want to play your cards carefully, even if altruism isn't your first instinct.

Main Navigation ::: ⇅ Top

Comments

👌fabulous, fam

[vestments]

( the stench of divinity's impossible to miss for someone who knows what they're looking for, even if it's not marc himself, it's what he's been touched by. what's claimed him.

khonshu isn't here. marc doesn't even know that khonshu has been freed from his imprisonment on asgard, and so what stephen might see or recognise in him — flickers, potential, opportunity — go completely missed.

the shift in light does grant him confirmation — any similarities to the strange he knows are superficial at best. there's a familiarity in the arch of his brow, but he's paler, more gaunt. the structure of his features are as if someone was trying to build strange from a description and managed to get it close enough but not quite right. it's— well, it's not his first rodeo with the multiverse, and though he hates it, though it's not really his wheelhouse at the best of times, it means— )

No. ( to the I take it we've met. the papers get placed down without care atop the drawer he'd pulled them from, and he turns to face stephen more fully. the water sloshes, laps higher about his legs — uncomfortable, but whatever. it's not deep enough that he's concerned about it, not yet. he's survived worse. ) I've worked with, ( the slightest of slides of attention, from stephen to the cloak and back again; a gesture with a hand. ) A man with the same name and that cloak.

( the frown that accompanies his response isn't displeased. it isn't even particularly unhappy, it's just the tense, tight, tired lines of a man who seems to wear a frown as his default expression.

he hasn't yet noticed the egregiousness of stephen's shadow — but then, there are a lot of strange shadows here.

his hand hovers for a breath before he opts to straighten his tie, a flicker of something in his expression. the question's not a difficult one, but the answer's contingent on who he wants to be known as.

it'd be easier if he had his mask. simpler. then, it'd just be 'mr. knight'. ) —Spector. ( he makes no attempts to clarify the spelling, the difference between his name and 'spectre'.

it's probably deliberate. )

[elriche]

I see. [ It's no surprise that any version of Doctor Strange would take this information in stride, although many might not feel the same pang of regret, the same streak of covetous desire. Is there a Christine in this man's world, Stephen wonders? Is there a Strange who still wears his name with pride, who uses a modest breadth of powers for something outside himself?

Stephen shakes it off. No, it's done. His history is no one's but his own. What's important is each step that comes after.

The water laps at the edges of the nearby desk. Stephen glances at it, frowns. Is it higher than before? He realigns his attention on the suited man in front of him. ]

Spectre, [ he repeats back. Probably an alias, but that's fine by him. It's the whiff of something else on the guy that gives him pause – though on closer inspection, it's traces of ash rather than a smoking fire. Like the man's been surrounded by the stuff, marinated in it. Something old, and powerful. Something Stephen may have beckoned through the breach once upon a time, that he may have swallowed whole.

It's done, he says to himself, like repetition will make him stronger. He keeps his face even, quirks his mouth. ]

Don't suppose that "work" had something to do with–

[ Something breaches the water behind Spectre's leg. Teeth halfway surfaced, bloodshot eyes and matted hair. Stephen inhales, raises his hands into orange, runed disks. ]

Behind you!

[vestments]

( the avengers, marc finishes, even as stephen's tone is filled with more urgency, even as the glow shifts to a more familiar orange. marc spins round as best he can in water, right hand reaching instinctively to the slim truncheon kept at his thigh.

in the dim lighting, in the wet, the white of it is more stark, offset by the light cast by stephen. marc grips it, prepared but not panicked, eyes searching the water and—

—nothing?

no, not nothing. he's played this game with stephen before, the first time they'd met. stephen had been right and marc hadn't believed him, and it'd almost been too late. (marlene—.) he could ask what stephen saw and he still might, but for now, seemingly without care, marc wades in the direction of whatever it was. he doesn't go far, not for the moment, just enough to be momentarily swallowed by shadows, before— mm.

the water is higher, and marc stills, attention shifting as the realisation occurs to him, tinged with the awareness that he doesn't know where it's entering from. (whatever, it's fine. it's still not a problem.) he turns back, gaze lifting to meet stephen's in the equivalent of a shrug, just as a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes grabs his attention. it doesn't last long, his gaze doesn't settle — choice? doubt? familiarity? — but his jaw clenches and the knit of his brows is deeper and— )

Avengers. ( belatedly, finally. tight and weighted, the memory of a conversation sitting at the edges of his thoughts. and if I remember correctly, you assaulted stephen strange and stole his power—.

pointedly, deliberately, as a means of distraction, marc reaches for the papers he'd put to one side, and holds them up and out for stephen. marc's not precious, maybe there's something there he'd be able to make sense of that marc hasn't. (religious ████████ delusional.) the corners of his mouth twitch, settle into a brief, thin lin, and the papers don't crinkle as marc's grip tightens only because they're damp.

(there's nothing to say it's him, and yet—.)

he straightens. )

Wong. ( he lifts his other hand, the one still holding the truncheon, just a touch. his gesture — dismissive — would be clearer if his hands were free, but as they're not— ) Las Vegas devil-killing death squad. ( beat. a flicker and a lift of a shoulder. ) Midnight Sons. I owed a favour.

( no, the favour came after.
(he probably owes two favours now.) )

[elriche]

[ Spectre whirls around in a single fluid motion, the movement of a man accustomed to surprises and how to deal with them. His shadow crosses the space where the bobbing head had peered up at Stephen, pale and lifeless and... familiar?

Spectre wades forward, hand on his weapon. Stephen floats through the water and down again – just the edge of a spell – to get a better angle on that corner of the room, and–

Nothing. The water churns, slow and dark. Just like the words in the binder earlier, the uneasy patchwork of shadows on the walls. Nothing except the steady rise of the tide, in both the water of the room and the frustration in Stephen's chest. The building rage of an apex predator – injured, caged. Able to do little more than pace and observe despite its reams of claws and teeth.

Stephen frowns at the mention of the Avengers – of course they'd be involved somehow – and brings himself back to the interrupted discussion. He notes the lingering tension in Spectre's body – both of them have figured out they're not alone, but that it'd be best to keep pretending they are.

Spectre hands him some papers and it's hard not to notice the tight lines in his face as well. Stephen takes the packet, remembers the binder from earlier. Half a man, living half a life. How might those words have read for someone else?

Then–

Wong.

The thousand entrails inside him recoil as one. A deep line creases his brow.

More words follow but they mean nothing in the wake of the first. Stephen inhales, schools his expression back into place. ]

I was going to say "the Mystic arts," but... yeah, those Avengers get around. [ He manages a smile, small and wry. ] Otherwise, most of that is Greek to me, but... I knew a Wong. Pretty sure he enjoyed devil-killing and Las Vegas, but liked to keep them separate.

[ Past tense. Vanished. Gone. ]

[vestments]

( contextually speaking 'the mystic arts' makes more sense, and marc's aware, quite suddenly, of the disingenuousness of his 'worked with'. it had never been like that — it'd been stephen helping him, then it'd been him, not as reluctantly as it'd appeared, agreeing to help wong. then he'd — marc spector, not moon knight — fucked it all up (again), and then turned around and asked for wong's help.

any time that marc had been an avenger, ever short-lived and brief thanks to either poor communication and tantrum throwing (marc), inappropriate violence (marc), or a challenging approach to working in a team (MARC), there had never been a sorcerer supreme on the team.

but he doesn't share that. instead, he grunts a noise of vague acknowledgement designed entirely to circumvent the fact that he's misrepresented the nature of his anything with stephen. there is a brief, very brief moment where marc looks up, his expression full of the expectancy and readiness to speak of someone that's held most of a conversation in their head, and thinks of adding 'but he has worked with clea.'

that they're friends.

instead— ) Well, we don't always get what we prefer. ( but as to the almost point, ) I don't do magic, if that's what you're asking. Moon Knight's a fist. ( he balls his free hand up tight, as if to punctuate the remark, before abruptly unclenching his hand and, ) But I needed some help with mystic-adjacent problems.

( the remark hangs, accompanied by the sort of loose silence that'd elicit a shrug in any other circumstance, before— )

—Strange dislikes me. ( sudden, offhand, oddly honest and almost conversational, as he starts to gather the medicine he'd dumped on top of the cabinet earlier. he squints at the labels as if attempting to make a decision, ignoring the unease that's settled in the pit of his stomach, is tight in his chest. it doesn't occur to him that the rising water and that may be related, and though stephen may have concluded that they've both decided they're not alone and are pretending otherwise, it's not quite the case. marc thinks it's a possibility, but he's thought that before and been wrong.

that doesn't mean he doesn't still, doesn't watch the water for one beat, then two. creeping discomfort to match the creeping water and the creeping shadows in spite of strange's spell. his gaze fixes on fanned blonde hair, dark and dirty, and he mutters a sharp 'you're not' under his breath.

quite suddenly— )

Does the House of Shadows mean anything to you?

[elriche]

[ Moon Knight? Stephen thought he said his name was Spectre – which, for the record, sounds significantly less ridiculous, but Stephen has cast enough questionably-named spells to know he should never judge something by its title.

Though... the name does ring a vague bell. From the inside of his self-made mirror dimension prison, he'd still been able to See – after the grief had cycled so many times through his body that he needed something else – anything – to feel. It had been tentative, opening eyes to the multiverse and taking in its outcomes – overwhelming even for him. A blur of faces and worlds, punctuated only by those individuals with enough power to shatter the shackles of their own timelines. Like Ultron.

But Stephen had at least heard a whisper of this one, along a tendril of ancient power. Moon Knight. It checked out with what he now tasted on this man's person – a remnant of influence, an old possession.

This man may not wield magic, but he's been bathed in it.

Stephen raises his brow at Spectre's admission, though he's more interested in observing him as he moves around the room – a little... agitated? Did he just see something too?

Stephen twists his wrist, forms fire in his palm, ready to strike. His eyes dart around the room even as he replies evenly to Spectre's question. ]

Not that I know of. [ The corner of his mouth twists upward, a half-smile. ] And about your Strange – don't worry. Pretty sure he'd hate me too.

[vestments]

( don't look too deeply into the brief moment of third-person compartmentalisation and separation, stephen. it's just A THING that marc occasionally does. )

Mm. ( short, perfunctory. not quite interest, but consideration. the house of shadows had been indelibly linked to strange for so long, that it strikes marc as strange (ha) that this one's never encountered it. banishment, return, banishment, return, an eldritch horror that ultimately just wanted to be wanted. not so different, when it came down to it. )

Originally— ( interrupted by a slight cough and an inhale of breath. ) I thought it just a case of— ( strange? fuck, no. how had he described it? ah— ) Esotericism. An apartment building with a floor that shouldn't exist, one that trapped its inhabitants, gave them water and air and a maze to navigate. Not to discover anything about them, but to wear them down before it ate them. ( a beat; an oddly dismissive wave of his hand, that rough, working-class chicago accent momentarily more pronounced — and at odds, perhaps, with the water-logged three-piece suit and the deliberate articulation. it's like maybe, just for a second, there's more of a glimpse of marc. ) Or whatever a house does.

The Strange I know kicked it out of our dimension more than once. It kept coming back, and—. ( well, the fact that marc had figured out what it wanted doesn't quite matter, not here and not now. the fact that it'd wanted anything in the first place? slightly more relevant. ) It could — can — manipulate its space. Turn it into anything it wants. Confuse. Disorient.

( he has a point! even if it's taking him a moment to get there. he shifts his weight which is markedly more difficult in water, and he slides one bottle of pills into a pocket, and then another. )

I'm not afraid of the dark, Doctor. ( it's decisive, like he's shifted internal gears in a conversation stephen hasn't quite been invited to — or at the very least, marc's assuming that moon knight exists wherever (this) stephen's from, and he's decided on a way to differentiate between the stephen present, and the one not. ) But you and I both know there's something weird here.

( —or rather, it's an assumption, as close as marc gets to hope. he knows it's not the same, but it could be similar, and the preparedness of stephen — even if it's fire in a room full of water — is nothing but a boon. )

thanks for ur patience friend 🙏

[elriche]

[ ooc: figure i should start wrappin us up but just let me know if i take too many liberties, happy to rewrite! ]

[ Stephen takes in Spectre's ghost story, as shadows move strangely upon the walls around them, as unsettling reflections take form and dissipate on the surface of the brackish water. The fire in his hand grows slightly in volume, and he turns his back toward Spectre as he talks – not out of disinterest in his words, but quite the opposite.

A building that hungers. That feeds. A dimensional anomaly with a mind of its own, unknowable, unkillable. Something that required the intervention of a Sorcerer Supreme, and which even then remained unconquered.

"It could — can — manipulate its space. Turn it into anything it wants. Confuse. Disorient." ]

Can it? [ Stephen mutters, more a confirmation than a question. His ears register the sound of Spectre wading through water behind him, of pills rattling in bottles, but it's secondary to the saturation in the air that he's felt since arriving at this place – darker, heavier, more – viscous than when he'd stepped out of the driver's seat of the beat-up Volvo outside.

In the darkness, his eyes glow. One opens from the center of his forehead, then two from the tops of his cheekbones. The desk's gotten closer. The wall's gotten shorter. The binders on the shelf haven't decreased in number, but they're bulging from the seams where the sides of the bookcase are now closing them in. The room is getting smaller.

Like stomach walls – lined with nerves, pulsing with blood, contracting muscles of the fundus and corpus, drowning contents in gastric acid. Dissolving them slow. Alive.

"I'm not afraid of the dark, Doctor."

A wry smirk crosses Stephen's face, revealing too-sharp teeth even as he remains faced away from Spectre. ]

Me neither. Though you might want to cover your eyes.

[ He opens his mouth, wide – more distended than it should, unhinged at the jaw, white-hot light pouring out from his the depths of his throat, from the sockets of his too-many eyes. The conjured fire sucks into his palm, leaving his lower half dark before giant wings explode from his back, both leathery and feathered in unequal measurements, bright – wreathed in flames so hot they burn blue. Something in the room shrieks as the walls pulsate and shudder, red veins through drywall, illuminated like light through the back of a hand.

The walls of the room grind backward slowly, as if recoiling. Grey hands reach from the water, black nails, gnashing teeth. A pair of Stephen's eyes dart down when arms curl around too-long legs, see – her, glassy-eyed, shards in her cheek and neck.

He doesn't know what Spectre might be seeing. The way the room might be trying to drag him, too, into its depths with its writhing gasps. ]