Chaotic Archive Vibes [FT. The Distortion]

Michael Should be More Chaotic 2020

An obscenely neon door popped into existence, seeming to glow against a dim room in the archives. The thing that stepped out wouldn't even call this a "room", though. At best, a closet filled with statements, a mini-fridge, a cot, and a microwave. It was the Archivist's "room", for when Jon didn't go home. Michael decided to stop by it that night. When Jon finished.. whatever he had been doing, he wanted a cup of tea. It was already one in the morning, there was no point in going home. He stumbled into his room, brushing the hair away from his eyes. That was when he noticed the entity inside. It was leaned over a large metal cup, stirring the contents with a too-long finger. It also seemed to glow a little, until he turned on the lights.

Michael seemed to dissolve for a brief second. Its human-ish form flickering for a second, possibly in surprise. It seemed to show no other reaction, though. Michael turned towards the door. "Hellooo, Archivist! I believe I've discovered your little hideaway."

"..Yes, you have, Michael." he sighed, hand coming to mask his wearied face. If Jon wasn't ready to pass out in the next five minutes, he might've shown some vague hospitality. Michael seemed like it didn't intend to injure him at the moment. Yet, Jon was considering if a quick stab would ruin the nib of his fountain pen. He brushed past the creature and its mass of hair, reaching for a mug while asking, "What are you drinking?" All in the name of trying to deceive the thing that.. deceives people for a living. Of course it knew he was being fake-civil.

It laughed. Michael's laugh was hard to describe. One way, and likely the most accurate one, was three to five people laughing at once. It even seemed to bleed over into its next words. "Your blood, soon! -I'm kidding.. coffee." Jon could've sworn he heard a faint maybe after "kidding". He hoped it was just his tired mind messing with himself. "Why do you ask?" It turned his head to the side, much further than a human's should go. At least it provided how important of a question this was to Michael.

"I'm asking.. because there was no coffee in this room as of ten hours ago." Despite the other's laughter and bubbly demeanor, Jon kept a stern expression. He was currently heating up water to make the next day's tea, and Michael watched with increasing curiosity. It didn't remember much of being human, or better said.. It didn't remember much of what Michael Shelley did. the Distortion considered its response for a moment, before just disappearing when Jon blinked. Jon stood there, eventually saying in a concerned tone, "..Michael?" The concern wasn't towards Michael, it was concern over the fact that it might come back with something to kill him. While waiting for it to return- if it did-, he finished making the tea, putting it away in the fridge. Jon also kept his pen near, finding it easier to attack with than the axe he kept around.

He wasn't sure how long it had been when Michael returned. the clock only read 1:47, but it felt like it had been hours. Then again, that might've just been it messing with time from afar. He squinted at the door when it stepped out again, seemingly dressed in a different outfit than last time. or the patterns just changed. It was hard to tell. Michael then asked, "Did you want this?" It revealed a large jar of instant coffee. "I made it. By myself!

Jon paused, a bit concerned. "No.. thank you?" One, it worked at a coffee shop? Two, did it just make that now? He thought he saw Michael frown before leaving the jar on his counter anyways. Michael approached him, and Jon ended up drawing back the pen reflexively. He was used to other avatars trying to harm him, that at this point, it was a natural response. The fountain pen then found itself into Michael's side. It glanced down at the "weapon" and let out a laugh, much to Jon's confusion.

"Archivist, are you going to want that back? I'd hate to bleed on your floor." The area around the stab wound seemed to wobble some, becoming somewhat unstable with reality.

Staring at the impact, he was unsettled by how little it cared. "I-, um."

Michael cut him off. "Actually, I know your answer. I'll give it back. It looks important. So, how was your tea?"

He gritted his teeth, tempted to yank the pen out. But, Michael didn't look like the sort of thing that would bleed out. Hell, it could probably plug the wound with its own finger. "It was fine. you said you made that coffee?" Back to square one. Be civil and hope it didn't decide to kill him.

"Well.. Michael Shelllley was.. what do you call them all.." Michael began pacing. Sure, Michael Shelley was human, but Michael was not. It only knew some of humanity, and words were not its forte. "He made coffee. That's all you need to know."

"So, a barista.." For once, he learned another elusive fact about Michael. Jon was definitely wide awake, now.

"Exactly!" For a moment, it literally lit up. Jon had to squint. Having one's emotions spread throughout an abstract concept lead to.. very obvious reactions. "I am not.. the best with words. Your eye should know that though, Archivist." Michael then took out the pen, the gold nib stained with multicolored blood.. if it even was blood. It handed the pen back to Jon casually.

He expected Michael to be lying, as it usually did. At least it returned one of his pens, unlike the other times. Throughout this, it had been drinking the coffee it had made. Jon assumed it didn't have a microwave within its corridors, or something similar. At the same time, this baffled him. If it didn't truly exist within the boundaries of time, so why didn't it just go to a coffee shop while it was open? Right. Michael wanted to annoy him.

Michael had decided to sit on the floor, still taller than one of the stacks of paper on it. It was holding a page, scanning over it before asking Jon, "So. Whose are these?"

"All of the obviously fake statements. I don't care what you do with them." Jon sighed. He really just wanted Michael to leave. Hell, if it would just leave the room, He'd be fine with it.

It smiled with a short giggle. That was a definite sign of chaos. "Sooo, you're saying I could do.. this?" Without any hesitation, Michael put an entire piece of paper in its mouth, chewing for a moment that seemed to last for just too long.

"What the actual fuck, Michael!" His reaction was somewhere between confusion, shock, and just a little bit of fear. Jon was holding the pen again, standing near the corner.

Michael didn't answer his question. Why should it? "Hmm.. it didn't taste that good. I wouldn't recommend it."

Jon ended up settling down after a second, but was still tense. "I-. I wouldn't want to eat paper myself, But. Thank you for your review. I definitely needed to know." The response was littered with so much sarcasm that Michael couldn't help but laugh again.

"I think that's my cue to leave, then!" It did its job. annoy Jon, make a drink, and do something cryptic.

Finally, peace! "Please get out of here."

Michael smirked, walking across the room in a nearly dance-like movement. The door out of the spare room seemed to be replaced by a yellow one. "I'll be back next week, Archivist." It opened the door, stepping inside, and Jon thought he saw a black cat waiting inside for it. But before he could ask, Michael was gone, and the door went with it.

He now sat alone, now just left to think of what he saw. He ended up writing down a few questions for the next encounter they had.