idk (mw fanfic)

2

"Hello, hello, Michael!" The strange entity grinned. Rhythmically drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, his piercing gaze struck Michael sharply, despite the entity's face being half-obscured by an odd diagonally striped visor; the prey to a hungry vulture, whose unwavering focus could only affirm its target's doom.

"So, as you see, it's Saturday," he went on, and on cue, one red wire lowered a calendar with each Saturday of the month marked in bold red. 

"And what of it? Are you going to play a record and drag me around like a ragdoll for the hundredth time?" Michael pressed, folding his arms.

"Don't make such a fuss. I've only done it ten times," he brushed off, waving his palm away.

Michael's frown deepened.

"Fine, twelve times, but that's beside the point," he relented before moving on. "Your dumb little idiot brain overlooked something." He shoved the calendar closer to Michael's face. Upon further inspection, it appeared this Saturday had a special red star--that, or it was a crudely drawn pentagram. Either assumption only grew the ball of dread weighing heavily within Michael's stomach.

"So, what does it mean?" Michael questioned, pointing to the starred date. 

"What does anything mean, Mr. World?" He teased as the wire suddenly flung the calendar at Michael, who ducked down just before it could smack him flat in the face. 

"What this means is that we are going out! Nothing as boring as before, such as your little excursions to the bar or your brother's office, rather we are embarking on a little odyssey." All the while, he seemingly pulled a travel bag from nothing and glided around the room, stuffing miscellaneous items inside. 

"An odyssey? Like, ah... the one required reading in secondary school?" Michael scratched his head. "That Odyssey?"

He looked over his shoulder as he replied, "The one with the insane old fart, Daddy's little helper, and that poor, estranged woman?"

"I... I guess?"

"No. Too long and tragic," he shook his head as he passed Michael again. "I might be visiting you for a while, but I don't intend to drag it out over 10 years." His back to Michael, something else glinted as it was dropped into the bag, but Michael only caught a moment's glance until the strange man zipped the bag shut and beckoned Michael to window. The wires reached out and threw the windows open, cool air gushed inside.

"You're kidding, right?" Michael laughed dryly, pointing at the open window. For once, the man's trademark grin faded. Oh, so he was serious. Dead serious.

"No, no, never," Michael shook his head vigorously, crossing his forearms into an X-shape. "I know you're some kind of magical spooky man, but there is absolutely *no* way I am going to jump out of that window with you." He maintained eye contact as he cautiously stepped back towards the flat's actual exit. "I have survived you this long, it's early and I've barely drank my coffee. No."

"My, how unfortunate," the man sighed, cupping his cheek with one hand. Michael's chest tightening as he suppressed his breaths such that it evoked a long, drawn out pause of utter silence, save for the rapid pounding of his heart in his ears. No movement from either side, just a little breeze gently pushing the curtains...

A lone red wire snatched Michael by the wrist and violently yanked him to the man's side. He clutched Michael's shoulder with a vice grip as he mounted the window frame. "I don't remember asking you."

~+~

Someone softly knocks on the door.

"Michael, are you there? Mia and I visited a lovely pastry shop earlier this morning, and I brought some treats back for you. Mia insisted you would also like their egg custard, but I got you a fresh baguette, too--it might go well with your coffee."

Knocking again, harder. The door creaks open.

"Michael? Hello?"

He peers inside, a paper bag at his side, closing the door behind. He scans each room, peers into the sink, looks to the open window.

"That explains the draft. So forgetful..."

The window is closed; the odyssey begins.