Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

You-Flavored Tea

Berdly's feathers brush against your throat and then pull away. 

He struck you, you think. A punch? It hurts.

He was trying to stab you. But when you try to focus, when you try to see the knife in his hand, it's... hard. It's like your eyes aren't listening to you. You're trying to look, trying to lift your head, but your body isn't...

You feel... cold. 

Why did he hit you? Why not just...

Something wet is creeping up the back of your neck. It's cold.

You're dying, you think.

The puddle is spreading. It's seeping into your hair.

You feel the chill of Noelle's magic sweep past you. Or maybe it's just the wet soaking into your clothes.

When the puddle finally spreads past your head, you fall inside and disappear.

~~~

The black is vast and cold, but it doesn't tug at your feet this time. Ripples spread from every footstep, reflecting nothing.

It's so quiet.

You don't need to say a word for Mike to hear your call.

You can feel him, somewhere in this endless void. Or maybe he is the void, the way his nothing-voice comes from every side, all at once and yet nowhere at all. But it rings the way a radio does when it's tuning onto a station, and then suddenly-

"Disappointing," he says. He's standing in front of you. It's dream-like, the way he warps as you watch him. No matter where you look, wherever your eyes dart, he's always right in front of you, but somehow... not quite. He's more of a fractal than a person, with no body, no form, but still, you can see him.

His voice is real. Not that horrible silence in your head from when he tried to talk to you before. But it's not particularly... frightening, or impressive. It's the detached rasp of an older monster, nothing more.

It's like knives when he looks at you, though. There's a void, a gap in the darkness, a sinking hole in your stomach when you feel him looking, watching, examining, seeing. It sucks the air out of you. 

"Hm. You can hear me now." It's a fact, not a question. He turns his attention away from you and you can breathe again.

"Mike?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

He doesn't bother to reply.

You feel the entire plane shift around you. Suddenly, you're on your back, lying on the surface on the oily dark without having moved at all. The lurch in gravity should make you sick, but instead you just feel out of place. You can feel Mike's attention swallowing you. Every little bit of you is being examined, measured, catalogued.

The world shifts again. You're free-floating, and your soul glows in the cavern of your chest. You're rolled like the colored center of a glass marble as you're turned from a person to notes on pages you can't see.

The way it all moves around you, the way Mike shifts and fragments, you just know that-

"-You do not belong here," Mike states. The world settles under your feet once more.

But then Mike smiles.

"You are proving to be very interesting. Perhaps this experiment will bear fruit after all."

You can't begin to understand. 

"There is much left to do." His smile is a crack in the dark. "You are needed. Will you try again?"