Work Text:
The staccato rhythm of his axe striking the tree in front of him was probably the most relaxing sound Wilson had heard in a long time. Ever since he was transported into this hellscape the sounds he experienced were nightmarish. Sighing screams, dissonant growls, and damning wails, this was the music of his existence. It was nice to hear something else for once, even if it was mundane as wood chopping.
As the tree fell forward Wilson paused from his chopping and wiped the sweat from his brow. Chopping wood was still a laborious task despite the respite it brought him. He was grateful that it was spring rather than summer, otherwise the work would be grueling.
A thunderous creak and sigh erupted behind him. Wilson spun to locate the noise. His eyes scanned the area around him frantically, what the dickens was…?
Another groan, and a tree was pulling itself up from the ground. Ginormous arms sprouted from it’s sides and slammed on the ground, shaking the earth. It pushed up from the ground, uprooting one leg then the other. The giant monster stood to it’s full height the same time Wilson’s heart dropped to his feet. He had never seen a monster like it before…
The monster let out another roar, and Wilson hesitantly raised his axe…
He didn’t stand a chance.
Maxwell puffed on the end of his cigar as he followed the path of blood, his mind running through all the scenarios that could’ve taken place. Death was all too common in the world, the way they happen can sometimes be…odd, though.
The blood eventually led him to a clearing deep in the forest, completely devoid of life. The only things there were the trees, a bloody axe, and Wilson’s too still body.
As he got closer he could see that whatever had attacked him had ripped his stomach wide open, exposing Wilson’s insides to the elements. It was a miracle that anything remained in him. Whatever killed him had been more than thorough to say the least.
Maxwell took a long drag of his cigar and found his stomach turned at the bitter taste (or maybe that was because of the massacre before him).
“
A pity,” he sighed. “A part of me dared to hope you might not end up like all the rest.”
“Max…well?” a soft voice asked. “Is that you?”
Maxwell looked down to see the gentleman scientist looking at him through a haze of his tears. His small hands were struggling to keep everything together. He was like a doll that had burst at the seams and whose stuffing fell out of it. Limp, and lifeless.
“Almost,” Maxwell corrected himself, “Almost lifeless.”
“You’re still alive Higgsbury?”
There was no response, and Maxwell knew that whatever miracle or curse that kept Wilson alive for the moment would not last.
Maxwell knelt down next to the scientist and sent his cigar off…somewhere.
“It seems you lost the game pal, what happened?”
The scientist began to push himself up to better look at his captor. Maxwell grabbed him softly by his shoulders and held him up.
“A…tree…stood up…attacked…”
Maxwell nodded his understanding, “Ah yes. A treeguard. I hadn’t expected something like that would be your undoing.”
A sound that sounded more like a whimper than a laugh came out, “Ha…this is your *cough* idea of bedside manner?”
Maxwell didn’t know how to respond to that, but lucky for him he didn’t have to because Wilson kept going.
“Well, I’m happy you’re here anyway.”
The puppet master couldn’t help but scoff, “Why? Shouldn’t you be blaming me for this?”
Wilson laughed, and blood spewed from his mouth, “Probably, but I guess I was afraid that I would die alone.”
Maxwell visibly recoiled at the admission (though he highly doubted Wilson noticed). The moment of honesty towards him was too uncharacteristic of his first victim, and it left the former magician stunned.
Finally, after a few moments of silence Maxwell brought Wilson’s head to his lap and began stroking his hair.
“Higgsbury…you’re delirious.”
“I’m coughing up blood, I think I’m dead serious.” Wilson replied laughing, causing more blood to paint his pale skin.
(Maxwell didn’t know if the off-colored joke was just from Wilson’s usual sense of humor or from the fact that he misheard him, either way it wasn’t looking good).
“Even before- cough- you brought me here I was alone. The world…they turned their back on me…called me mad. I would have died…*cough* alone out there but for you.”
Wilson reached one hand up to Maxwell’s face and Maxwell brought it up for him the rest of the way. He pressed his hand against his cheek and tried to ignore how cold it was.
“Hush Higgsbury, close your eyes.”
A lone tear trailed down the scientist’s cheek, “Thank you Maxwell.” He was gurgling, it wouldn’t be long now.
Maxwell brought his hand down and closed Wilson’s eyes for him.
“I told you to hush.” Maxwell said, and for once there was no venom in his words, no scathing remarks as he talked. “There now…close your eyes.”
Wilson didn’t open his eyes again but continued to make small helpless sounds as blood kept boiling up. Maxwell continued to hold him until the sounds finally came to a halt. He remained in the clearing for a few moments after, making sure the scientist had truly passed before standing up with his body in his arms.
“Oh Wilson,” he sighed. Maxwell turned around and followed the blood trail back, Wilson’s small form limp in his arms.
The quiet chirping of birds is the first thing he heard, it was a different sound from the usual nightmarish music that followed him now. He was content to listen to these sounds forever.
Wilson felt something soft land on his nose, like a feather. He opened his eyes to find a butterfly, one of the few familiar creatures in this word, resting on his nose. Wilson felt his eyes flutter shut again until memories of a more disconcerting darkness caused him to fling himself upright.
“Maxwell!” he shouted frantically scanning the clearing.
Smoke and shadow began to gather and quickly take form until the magician himself appeared, cigar in hand.
“You call?” he asked calmly.
“Maxwell! What happened? You told me to close my eyes and then…”
The scientist looked down at himself and found he was fine. There was no wound, no blood. He could barely find a speck of dirt on him.
“Oh,” he said his hand tentatively touching his stomach, “I guess it was just a dream.”
Maxwell raised one neat eyebrow, “Dreaming me of Higgsbury? How flattering.”
Wilson furrowed his brow, something wasn’t right…
“You should be careful where you fall asleep though Higgsbury,” Maxwell said, “There’s a lot of monsters around this area.”
Maxwell knelt next to Wilson and whispered in ear, “The treeguards are especially restless lately. They might claw that belly right open.” Maxwell blew smoke on his cheek and patted his belly.
He then stood up and Wilson slowly did the same.
“See you around Higgsbury. Do try to stay alive.”
“Yeah…” Wilson said, “Thanks.”
Before he could question him further Maxwell disappeared in smoke.
Wilson sighed, “Maxwell.”
While brushing any grass of himself Wilson noticed a backpack next to him.
“I swore that wasn’t here before.” Wilson said as he reached down to examine its contents. In it were plenty of wood, stones, gold, grass, food, traps, tools, and weapons. Plus, many more items useful for surviving this world.
Usually Wilson would jump for joy at finding any loot and would outright burst if he even came close to finding all this at once. Now though the suspiciously full backpack left him more confused. Did he really find all…?
Wilson noticed another item in the pack, he reached in and fished around for the strange item and soon pulled out a bone with a blinking eye on top.
Wilson forget about his previous concerns and studied the object closely. Staring straight into its eye as he rubbed his chin. “Now what could this be?”
A few seconds a later bouncing noise caught his attention. Wilson turned to the source and found a furry little creature at his feet.
A small chuckle escaped as he picked up this peculiar little dog, “Why hello there, and what in heavens are you?”
Back at his throne room Maxwell watched Chester lick the face of his new master.
“You’d better survive Higgsbury,” he said gruffly, watching him sling the heavy backpack on and wandering down a road.
His face softened as he looked down where he was chained to his throne, “Please…”
“Don’t die again.”