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Martyn had a headache. Between the pounding in his skull and the all-too-familiar whispers buzzing in his ears, he could hardly hear Scott and Impulse where they stood in front of him. Even the brief words that made it through the overwhelming memories of Evo sounded far away.
“...no armor, no shields…”
"...fistfight…"
Martyn felt like he might cry. The voices were urging him to dump his bucket of lava on his teammate's head, and it was taking all of his energy not to let the puppet strings lead him.
Please. He pleaded, to the gods he knew lay above.
No help came, and his limbs were finally yanked forward against his will. He might've been saying something, but he didn't know if it was angry or apologetic or even where it was aimed.
When Martyn came back to himself, he was panting, shaking, curled up on the stone that made up spawn. He knew that if he looked down at his hands, they would be coated in blood. He could feel the stickiness.
The Watchers' whispers were the only thing he could hear now. He felt lightheaded, but there was no escape the relentless tingling and roaring in his ears.
It wasn't until a second voice, sweet yet possessive, joined the cacophony that he finally broke. “Stop!" He yelled, tears streaming down his cheeks in an unstoppable torment.
“Please. Stop." He begged. He hoped he was saying what he wanted to say.
Martyn kept talking, empty promises and increasingly desperate questions. Please. Please. Please. He just wanted to get out of here.
When it stopped, he didn't notice at first. He kept babbling nonsense, until he took in the fact that he could hear the nonsense.
If he hadn't already been crying, he would've weeped tears of joy.
His head felt almost empty without the foreign presences taking it as their own. His ears were ringing, and he felt like he might faint at any second.
Nausea swam through his stomach, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed the bile that came up.
It wasn't quite over yet, though. The second voice returned, gentler and still as sweet as honey. ‘We’re sorry, Littlewood.' It was odd hearing his actual name from Its lips. The Listeners preferred to give him a nickname, just as the Watchers did.
“I-" Martyn took one deep, shuddering breath. “Can I just get out of here?"
'Of course. Close your eyes.’
He did as they said, bracing himself for however they chose to remove him from this world. A bright flash seared across his retinas, and then he was gone.
And all Martyn felt was relief.