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permafrown · 1 month ago

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" get your ghost "

— Omen has their first encounter with Madhouse Mike and it's.. less than ideal. Oh, right, Did I mention they get left behind in a brand new town?

SHIP ; Madomen (No romance in this one, but the ship is romantic) (Madhouse Mike x Omen Overnight)

MEDIA ; C.ryptid C.rush

WORD COUNT ; ~3.3k

CW/TW(s): Cussing

NOTE(s) ; Mike isn't very friendly right off the bat. Also once again I did not feel like name-dropping side characters so enjoy vague distinguishers. Kinda unserious narrator voice it has me all over it. Also didn't crazy proof read this tbh honest

"Are you ready for the roadtrip of a lifetime?" One of their teammates had asked them, already settled on the floor of their van where all the equipment was stored.

"Are you ready for me to be passed out the whole time?" Omen asked in return. Running on a total of zero hours of sleep was a strategic part of their road trip experience. "Until we get there, of course." The answer was the same both ways; "Always."

Omen inched towards him on their stomach, the two huddling like kids at a sleepover with secrets to tell. "Remind me where we're going again."

He filled them in. The team was on their way to investigate an infamous ghost called Madhouse Mike over in the coastal town of Longhope. According to sources, Madhouse had died during a broadcast after attempting to drink several cans of a shady soda called 'Toxic Waste Energy'

"Not gonna lie, that soda sounds like it would be good as hell." Omen said after they got their explanation, picturing the sour carbonated beverage in their head.

"Yeah. I figured you'd say that." Their teammate says "Are you going to try and see if you can find a can?"

Omen thinks for a moment. "Like mid expedition or, like, online? Because if there's some still at the radio station.. It's mine."

"Erm." He looks at them, concerned. "I hope it doesn't kill you." He pauses. "Like it did Madhouse Michael-"

"Ehh, I'm sure I'd be fine." They say nonchalantly.

The two continued to chit-chat for a while, until Omen could feel their sleep meds starting to do their job. They laid down fully to rest, letting the semi-gentle rock of the vehicle lull them to sleep. They were conked out for the next several hours, with little moments of semi-consciousness between.

They jolted awake at the roar of the van door opening.

"Omennn," The voice of one of their called out to them. "We're making a snack run before we hit the radio station, do you want anything?"

"...Can someone grab me a coffee?" Omen sleepily answers, raising their voice as best as they could. They heard two in-sync 'Okay!'s before their two teammates walked off, shutting the van door behind them.

A good minute passed before Omen realized they weren't actually all that tired anymore. With a sigh, they rose from their spot. They took a moment to stretch before they made their exit, moseying their way into the unfamiliar gas station.

It was unsurprisingly empty at this hour. A glance at their phone told them it was roughly two in the morning by now. And that their battery was almost dead, but that was a problem for future Omen. Neither of their teammates were in, either, so they could only guess that they had hit the bathrooms first. It wasn't a bad idea, now that they thought about it. So, there they went. They opted for the single-stall family bathroom.

Once all was said and done, they washed their hands and splashed their face with the sink's cold water, patting it dry with their shirt. They take a moment to stare in the mirror. Had their eyebags gotten heavier? Shrugging, They also take a moment to re-tie their ponytail, pulling the curls up and securing them atop their head so they splayed out messily.

They shot themselves a quick thumbs-up before they exited the bathroom, looking around and still seeing no signs of their crew. They grab a couple of snacks for themselves, and go to the register. As they paid, they were completely oblivious to the chaos that was unfolding just outside.

Bag around their wrist, they walked outside. They looked left, and then right, and then left again.

Where did the van go?

Stepping out into the middle of the parking lot, they looked around again. Still, nothing. Their best guess was that their team didn't realize they had left the van, and moved onto the radio station without them. It wasn't the end of the world, they figure. They could survive the walk. Probably. If they remember right, it was just down the road a bit. They had to run into it eventually, right?

Even as they approached Elkhorn County Radio Station, they still couldn't spot their team's van. Huh. They think, perhaps too optimistically, maybe they're trying to pull a prank? It wouldn't be unwarranted, given all the times Omen had scared them half to death.

They look around, scratching their head. All they're greeted with is.. a whole lotta nothing. It's just Omen and the imposing radio tower before them. On that note, the place looks like a wreck from the outside. All busted up with boarded windows and overgrown foliage. The biggest problem, however, was the large metal fence blocking them from getting in.

"Okay.." Omen clicks their tongue in annoyance, staring from the outside. Climbing the fence wasn't the smart option given the barbed wiring at the top, but..

They shake their head. Not worth it. How did those other bozos get in? They wonder. They approach the fence, and grab at the lock, inspecting it closely. It was a bit of a long shot, but.. They reach into their pocket, fishing out the key ring they had accidentally taken from their job. They take one of the master keys, and slide it into the lock, twisting until it came undone. Now unlocked, Omen pushes forward. Easy.

Everything seemed to get easier from there, as the actual front door to the station itself was unlocked, to Omen's surprise. The door shuts behind them, and they look around. They squint as their eyes try to adjust to how dim it was on the inside. From what they could see, the place was in half-decent shape for somewhere that hadn't been touched in, what, nine years? Color them impressed.

They move forward, managing a couple steps before they bump into a trash can hard enough to knock it over. "Shit," they hiss under their breath, leaning down to see what fell out. It was all cans of the same brand of soda - Toxic Waste. "Ohoho! Jackpot!" They cheer to themselves. They take their favorite piece of Ghost hunting equipment, the humble EMF reader, and click it on, holding it over the cans.

It lit up immediately, eminating a static-like sound with it's lights indicating a reading of two, meaning, one of these cans was tossed recently. Okay, cool. So there is a ghost.

They continue onward.

They stop in their tracks as they pass by the open bathroom door, something in their peripheral vision catching their eye. They slowly turn. Something's blinking. They move in closer, coming into view in that dim mirror. The headlight on the camera is blinking.

If their light's blinking, that means it's not connecting to the van's computers. That makes no sense. If there's no computer for the camera to connect to, then there is no van. If there's no van, then-

Oh god. They stare at their reflection, wide-eyed as the realization dawned on them. Their never made it in to begin with.

They got left behind.

Omen quickly grts their phone out, trying to navigate to the team's group chat. They get as far as typing a desperate 'GUYS?' into the text box before their phone screen goes black, leaving them to stare foolishly at their flabbergasted reflection, their message unsent.

They raise their head, staring dead-pan at themselves in the mirror, looking like an even bigger fool. The blinking red light on their head camera doing nothing but mocking them. They close their eyes to take a long, hard blink, and when they come to..

They're no longer alone.

"Well, well, well, what do we have h-" Omen screamed before their brain can even register the words being said to them, jolting so hard they practically jump.

They whip around, meeting face to face with a green figure looming over them, and more importantly, blocking their only exit. There's a look of surprise on his face as the two make eye contact.

"Woah-ho! Nice vocal chords there, buddy!" The figure laughs, patting his throat for emphasis. "Did I scare ya?"

"N-No," Omen tries to say firmly, but it comes out as a meek squeak. Their face burns with embarrassment as they try to re-orient themselves. "No, not at all." They say, overcompensating for their vocal malfunction by making their voice deeper than it is.

The ghost (That's what they were dealing with, right?) stared at them, and then burst out laughing. Full-on, arms over his stomach, laughing, right in their face. They can't help but roll their eyes

When he recovered, wiping a crocodile tear from his eye. "Ohh, that was good. You're a funny one, guy." He says as a few leftover laughs fall from his mouth.

"Let me guess," He floats closer, tapping the camera strapped to their forehead with his claw. "Ghost hunter?". Omen leaned back a bit, lest he decided to poke their eye out. "Something like that," They murmured.

"Aww, and you're coming to scout out me?" He grins. "Lemme tell ya, you've got a lot of nerve showing up alone. The last ghost hunter who came in here, left in the same state I am! That is to say - DEAD! BWAHAHAHAHAA!" The ghost throws his head back, laughing obnoxiously hard at his own joke.

It's so over. Omen thinks to themselves, sheepishly laughing along with him. They had to come up with a way out of this joint, and quick. "Gotta say, though.." The specter's voice snaps them out of their thoughts. He was looking them over now, rubbing his chin. "You don't look like any of those big-name ghost hunters. Who are you, exactly?"

Whatever you do, do not call yourself nugu. The corner of Omen's mouth twitches as the thought passes by them. "I, uh," They clear their throat. "I go by Omen."

"Uh-huh," He says, unimpressed by their little alias "Well, Omen," He smiles, "You're just in time! I just-so happen to need someone to fill my guest slot!"

"Uh-" Omen glances at the exit behind him. "Do I.. have to?"

The corners of Mike's mouth twitch. "If you want any chance of getting out of here with your life still intact," His tone makes Omen's blood go cold, but Mike's quick to put that showman facade back on. "C'mon, it'll be fun! What d'ya have to lose? You know, other than your life or whatever."

"S-sure, man," They mumble. "I'll be on your show."

"Great answer!" Mike claps his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

Omen follows the green ghost to the recording room, watching as he phases through the wall. They stare blankly when they realize they can't just follow after him. Clicking their tongue in annoyance, they go for the door.

They sink into the chair across from Mike. He was still grinning at them, but his gaze felt like he was about two seconds away from tearing them to shreds. A shiver courses through them as soon as his gaze moves away from them, focusing on his mic. "Good evening, listeners! Tonight, we have a very special, unexpected, and not all unwelcome guest with us tonight! Omen - the Ghost Hunter!"

"H-" Omen takes a moment to clear their throat, attempting to swallow their nervousness as they lean into the microphone. "Hiya!" Mike finds their obvious anxiousness amusing.

"Tell me, Omen, what brings you here to Elkhorn County tonight?" He goes onto ask, leaning his head into his hand in a show of what had to be mock interest.

"You, of course, Madhouse." They say, toying with their hands in their lap. "..Can I call you Mike?"

"Oh, yeah?" He tilts his head. "And what, exactly, were you hoping to find out about little ole me?" His tone is cheeky, and they know he's definitely pissed. It crosses Omen's mind that he must've been doing this for a long, long time to be able to keep character like this. Long before he died, and long after, too.

"I, uh-" They clear their throat. "I was hoping to find out what kinda ghost you are," Omen answers.

"...What kind of ghost?" Mike asks.

"Yeah, y'know! Different kinds of ghosts do different things and come from different circumstances. There's, like, shades and revenants and wraiths.. mylings..." They begin to lose their train of thought as they notice Mike's smile begin to falter "..deogens.. phantoms-"

"So," Mike cuts them off, folding his arms across his chest. "What kinda ghost am I, Hotshot? Since you seem to know so much." He mumbles that last sentence under his breath. Omen blinks slowly.

"W-well, personally, if I had to shoot a guess here, I'd say maybe a... Pooooltergeist?" They had never sounded so unsure in their life. They racked their brain for information on the various ghosts they had encountered before and what differientied them, but without the information at the disposal, they felt a little out of their element.

"Yeah, yeah. They're the ones who fuck up their environments a lot and traces of stuff they've touched can be seen under ultraviolet light."

"Really, now?"

"Yeah! Atleast, I think so. Truth be told, my team was a lot better at the whole identification th-" They freeze. They look at Mike like a deer in headlights. They locked eyes. He look almost as surprised as they did.

"A team?" Mike gasps. "But I thought you came alone? Where's your team at?" He says, pointedly looking around the room. When he locked eyes with them again, his smile was back, crueler than ever.

Omen opened their mouth to answer, but no words came out. "I-"

"Don't tell me." He gasps. "You were ditched here, weren't you?

He leans into his mic. "You hear that, listeners? This guy got left behind at this old dump by his own Ghost Huntin' team!" He throws his head back and barks out a laugh. "That's priceless!" Omen's face burns with embarrassment, and they slump back in their seat.

They wanted to defend themselves. Tell him their team didn't leave them. That they would be coming back for them any minute, but, truth be told, they weren't sure. They weren't even sure why they had taken off in the first place, especially without them! It didn't make sense.

"I almost feel bad for ya! But don't you worry, 'cause you can just stay here with me!"

Omen quickly snaps out of their thoughts. "Huh?" They look around frantically. "Huh, what?"

"I could use a co-host!" He says, beaming at them like he didn't just suggest the most insane thing they had ever heard in their entire life.

"I-I don't even like- know you-" They stammer, eyebrows drawing together. "I-"

"Too late!" Mike interjects. "You practically signed your soul away as soon as you stepped into this joint."

Omen quickly stands up from their seat. "I don't wanna be your co-host you- you-" Their brain scrambles to think of an insult, pointing at him and shouting the first thing they can think of. "Bum!"

"Bum?!" Mike gasps, taking great offense to their childish jab. "Speak for yourself, buddy! Staging fake supernatural encounters for a living doesn't count as a job! You don't know anything about ghosts! 'Paranormal investigator'!" He puts their title in air quotes

They go for another rebuttal, but Mike beats them to it "FINE." He says. "You don't have to stay here. You can leave." Omen relaxes tentatively. There had to be a catch to this.

"But," There it was. "You have to do this commercial segment with me. It's the least you could do for throwing off my show."

Omen chewed their lip, their irritation apparent. "Fine." They say, sitting back down in their seat.

"Great!" He had put his radio host voice back on. "Listeners, we all know the phrase 'Find what you love and let it kill you', right? As you all know, what I love is Toxic Waste Energy! I loved it so much, it killed me! But, don't just take it from me. I'm sure Omen here shares the sentiment. Ain't that right, Omen?"

Omen looked down, and they found that they were holding a tall can of the Toxic Waste that Mike so highly spoke of. It's a shame they didn't feel an ounce of the enthusiasm the had for the carbonated beverage earlier. The way Mike worded it gave them the gut feeling that they weren't going to be making out of this alive. They frown deeply.

With great hesitation, cracked open the lukewarm can. It hissed at them, and they had half expected it to somehow emit a skull-shaped fog. They raise the can to their lips, taking a generous swig.

"It's to die for, isn't it?"

The last thing Omen felt was their head slamming against the table before them. They could hear a muffled commotion from outside the room. Frantic. The room to the recording room flew open, and they were only able to hear a panicked "OMEN!" before they fully passed out.

Omen jolted awake, meeting the three concerned pairs of eyes on them with confusion. "What. What happened? Where am I? What time is it?"

"It's six in the morning. I think you got fuckin' possessed, man." The leader of their ghost hunting team says to them. She's who they heard bust into the room before they completely passed out. Her eyes teemed with worry. "We came back in as quick as we could to come get you and you were with this green ghost guy, like, frothing at the mouth with your eyes glowing green!"

"Ugh.." Omen groans, rubbing their eye. There's a sour aftertaste in their mouth that's like bad citrus. Their entire body ached. "Dude, I like, can't remember a fuckass thing." They look down at their arms, their eyebrows furrowing as they see several bite marks and scratches all over their skin. "Who the hell bit me?"

They look up. The 2nd-in-command of the team sheepishly raises their hand in the background. "Yeah.. we also kinda had to fight you."

"Wow. That's crazy." They blink slowly. "Did I win?"

A silence that would be best accompanied by crickets washed over the group. "Too soon." Their earlier vanmate said. Omen couldn't help but laugh weakly.

"My bad."

After making sure they were okay, the group hit the road once more. Omen stared out the window, watching the 'Welcome to Longhope' sign get further and further away with each passing minute. When it was out of view, they slumped down in their seat with a troubled sigh. "Man.. Is it weird to say I hope that guy's okay?"

Their group duo (and the one who bit them) glances at them from their peripheral vision. "...Even after he possessed you?" They ask, voice distressed.

"Yeah! I mean, like," They wave their arm around. "It was a shitty thing to do but I can't entirely say I blame him, y'know, like-" They gesture. "All I'm saying, is if I died at my bummy ass job and had been stuck there for like nine years doing the better half of jack shit and fuck all?" They pause, and then shrug. "I'd be mad, too."

"Yeah." Their duo pauses, furrowing their brows in thought. "I think I'd start killing people."

"That's what I'm sayin'!"

The two continued to converse for a good couple of hours, until Omen got tired and inevitably decided to go asleep. There was one thing for certain, though, as they drifted off to sleep.

They'd have to go back to Longhope. One day.

#yikes.doc #AWAWAWA #I've had this in the works for a minute and im pppp happy with how it turned out. i think #excuse all the build-up for once I didn't wanna just like. throw ppl into a scene and go from there. if that makes sense #ANYWAY #madomen is about aura and hype moments. and buddy. we're all out of aura #title is based off the phrase get your goat as in to annoy someone but. you know. ghost!!#DOSE OF A FREAKY GHOST ; Madhouse M.

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