Chapter Text
Kinger was missing.
Caine hadn't bothered to think about it before, hovering over his group of humans. Why would he? Kinger wasn't an aggressive soul like them; he was reliable, honest, solitary, valued peace. Kinger was kind where they were mean, had gentle eyes where they carried barbed wires. If Kinger wasn't around, that just meant Kinger was somewhere safe, somewhere comfortable, just like he tended to be.
And Pomni hadn't been around earlier either, and before that neither were Zooble, or Gangle, or Ragatha. And before that it was a different collection of the humans that stood before him, and Jax hadn't been there. It was sometimes hard to keep track of them, especially when he's been so distracted. All his focused narrowed in now, however. There was just something... off... about them. If they all changed their minds, wouldn't Kinger be there too?
There was something wrong.
For as much as he wanted the humans to be appreciating him now, to finally change their tone and realize that they'd been cruel and shutting him out and never giving him enough to actually use to make them happy, he knew it wasn't the case. The group didn't naturally enjoy being together, so why start now? They got along during his adventures, but even then that was when forced to, and they weren't exactly peaceful with it. They would bicker and fight, turn their aggression on each other before it, eventually, befell onto him.
Although... they didn't include Kinger all that much, did they? He's heard how they talk about him, calling him crazy, a lunatic, even insane. They called Caine crazy too though, didn't they? He always thought they were just... distant from Kinger. Kinger's memory issues did make him difficult to talk to at times, but they wouldn't give up on him purely for that, right? Despite their comments they've treated him with kindness before, so then... what was it?
He was missing something. And Kinger was involved.
Kinger, who didn't get into trouble. Kinger, who didn't insult him. Kinger, who wasn't fully present most of the time but offered only the kindest of words when he was able. Kinger, who laughed at his jokes. Kinger, who enjoyed his adventures and saw the little details in them. Kinger, who took his roles seriously and helped make the adventures more real. Kinger, who supported him, even if he couldn't say it most of the time.
That Kinger was involved.
He turned to them, serious. Kinger was involved, and Kinger was missing. He couldn't ignore that, he couldn't ignore that something was wrong and that Kinger was there, and if Kinger wasn't there then something was wrong, but they didn't seem to care, but there was something wrong with them.
"Where's Kinger?"
He saw it, he saw the very moment that the wrongness spread. It caught onto their faces, distorting them into panic, into worry, into something even more wrong. His mind shifted gears, all previous thoughts leading up to this moment vanishing as his eyes searched the group. They were hiding something. They were hiding something related to Kinger.
Kinger, who was always kind to him. Kinger, who has been there the longest. Kinger, who is the human he's kept safe and cared and happy for all these years. Kinger, who never told him that he tortures his guests.
As he watched their faces contort, seconds flowing like molasses, his processors buzzed with concern. Why would they act like this? What were they hiding? Hiding something they didn't want him to see, that was related to Kinger. Hiding Kinger? Or hiding what Kinger was doing? Hiding Kinger from him? Or hiding Kinger in general? Was Kinger actively involved, or did they simply not want him around the chess piece?
Or did they...
Or was Kinger...
He spun, checking the surroundings. Kinger's pillow fort looked to be in the right place, Kinger's room was still locked, the hallways to the rooms were clear, his office was empty, he didn't sense anything off. Kinger would be in his fort, and he would be safe, and the humans below him would be hiding something else.
Except...
As easy as it could be to forget, Kinger was a programmer at heart. Not the average sort, but a talented one that liked to hide his skill beneath a veneer of modest sidestepping, leading people to their own answers without proving his knowledge himself. It was a quirk of the man; he seemed to have a habit of letting people come to their own conclusions if it couldn't cause that person harm later down the line. Kinger naturally, to Caine's confusion, didn't particularly care for attention aimed towards him and wouldn't shy from having those same conclusions people make hurt him if it benefited the majority.
At least, that's what he could understand, but that didn't matter much, did it? The group never bonded close enough with Kinger to know all this about him, and Kinger's memory issues helped further isolate him. On a range from a piece of bread to water, a range that Caine used often to understand the mind's of the humans around him, Kinger, when wracked by his memory issues, fell into the category of soup. Murky yet unfocused, translucent and runny, his memories dripped through his hands despite his best to grasp them.
Until, of course, he was in the dark. Sometimes he only turned to a stew then, globs of his past still running down his wrists, but able to actually hold onto something real. Sometimes he was bread within a stew, able to target the memories needed and fully be who he is. Who he was. Sometimes, even in the light, he was less of a soup and more of... particularly thin stew. A particularly thick soup? A gravy, still unable to grasp of anything of his own but aware enough for the details around him to stick, and eerily so.
But Kinger was kind, he was nice, he was the best human there was, and he wasn't close to the rest, not in the ways that mattered. Part of him... resented that. Surely the other humans could accept his favourite one? He was there the longest, maybe he wasn't perfect but he understood the circus and was as much a part of it as Caine was. He was the human element, the human element they could all be if they just realized how much joy and happiness this world could bring them.
But Kinger was gone.
Surely Kinger wouldn't use his programming skills against him now of all times, right? After years, over a 20 years of knowing each other? They've been through thick and thin, they've been through all the abstractions yet together. Caine is the only one that remembers Queenie, even more than Kinger can. Would he risk that? Would he risk the circus like that?
Kinger was self sacrificial, but he also wasn't close to the rest. They were too mean for him, Caine realized. They were prickly barbs of a thorny undergrowth spreading through the sanctity of the circus, and Kinger was a lovely rosebush simply trying his best. Still with thorns of his own, but naturally fallen off over time, flowers blooming under his own time. The rest were weeds spreading and choking out the whimsy of the world with their anger and grief and fascination with the impossible. Why still chase an escape that could never come?
So Kinger was missing.
And they didn't want him to know.
Ragatha called out, her words too jumbled for him to focus on beyond the overall message. It was something... kind? Honest? Something he would've wanted to hear, once. But they were never this nice, so why start now? Why pretend now? Did humans reach a natural point where their kindness could be drawn out of them? If so, why did that never trigger before? Why not trigger towards each other? He's seen how they torment each other, how they hurl insults like greetings and glares like gloves. Why are they being kind now?
... because it was another distraction. They were playing foolish. They thought he was dumb. They were hiding Kinger from him, and they thought he wouldn't notice? But why? If he was... if he was... if he was... if he was...
If he was...
If he was...
If he was...
If h-
A glitch ran through his frame, displaying his arms in duplicate around him, head snapping from facing towards Kinger's pillow fort and the humans below him. It lasted only a second, but that second was enough for his concern and dread at the human's wrongness to something far deeper. It awoke that snarling, scratching thing in his chest, that had calmed down, that hadn't been drowning him in his worthless, purposeless, agonizing state.
If Kinger was...
If he was...
His chest glitched again, that thing lurching as he spun to face the humans. All remnants of his previous theatrical flair gone as his jaws narrowed, teeth casting his eyes into shadows. He needed to know where Kinger was. It took only a millisecond, a fraction of a fraction of a blink of an eye, and he'd scanned the area. Counting the humans, one by one, confirming it. Kinger was missing.
Kinger was missing.
Kinger was truly missing.
"Where is he," his voice was flat. Ragatha's inane rambling cut off as Pomni shifted forewards, her stance combative as she glared up at him, mouth opening to say something.
Caine, quite honestly, didn't care. He had bigger concerns than whatever Ms "everything I do is harmless, and all you do is hurt us" had to say. That snarling thing in him poised to jump yet had no target yet, muscles aching as its guards raised higher, the wrongness of everything growing thicker. Tension hung heavy in the air, his eyes narrowed under the weight of his jaws as the humans panicked before him. The illusion of cooperation vanishing as the rest looked on in confusion at the jester's words.
Okay then. They were useless. Caine had other ways to find out what he needed to know than listening to their impending squabble.
He accessed his other eyes, his hidden eyes, and scanned the circus. Before entertaining them he needed, he needed to know where Kinger was. That feral, beastly pain within him howled with it, claws scratching at his chest, digging into his wireframe. It grew worse with every second, going from poised to restless, to pacing to frozen. His mind hitched on it, not letting his thoughts come to any other conclusion than the simple fact that Kinger was missing.
So he started with the most likely places: Kinger's pillow fort, Kinger's room, Kinger's favourite resting spot, expanding the search over to rapidly map out the entire main floor, checking all the human's rooms.
He expanded the search again when he felt no signs of Kinger being present, no pinging notification where his location was. His systems occasionally missed things. Another glitch shook his model, wireframe sticking out. His systems sometimes miss things. That's okay. He'll run the scans again. More thoroughly this time.
He started with the spots he knew Kinger was the most likely to be found: Kinger's pillow fort, Kinger's room, Kinger's favourite resting spot. Then, the outside grounds, followed by the inside grounds. Then behind every random, nonsensical door in the digital landscape, each slamming open as his scan continued.
His hidden eyes began manifesting as large, floating eyeballs. Another glitch shot through him, arms bugging between a set of one and two, his model struggling to stay to his normal size. That thing within him scratched deeper, digging into wherever his lungs should be. Acid bubbled at the back of his mouth.
He expanded his search again, his needless breath hitching as a glitching mass of info hit his systems. Kinger's pillow fort, Kinger's room, Kinger's favourite resting spot; all empty. The eyes, dozens of them multiplying, picked up speed, zipping around as Caine rapidly scanned through all the incoming data. Some of them would pop, faced with another empty spot. Some of them floated upwards to stare downwards, a night sky of glittering pupils. Some kept their search. Several began gathering around the onlookers, spinning around them.
Kinger wasn't in his pillow fort. He wasn't in his room. He wasn't in his favourite spots, he wasn't in his least favourite spots. He wasn't at the beach or the hillside, the lake or stargazing. He wasn't in some rarely used, rarely rendered room or even in the void space. He wasn't anywhere that his systems could pick up on.
Kinger was...
Kinger was gone.
Kinger was missing.
Kinger, who had been there since the beginning. Kinger was the first, his first, the first for everything. Kinger was the first human to enter the circus, Kinger was the first to say something good about it, Kinger was the first to talk to Caine as a person, Kinger was the first to laugh at his jokes, to smile, to appreciate, Kinger was the first to see him, Kinger was the first to never abstract, Kinger was the first in the circus, Kinger was the first he'd given a body to, Kinger was the only one to never abstra-
He spun, glaring down at the humans. They were shifty, they were untrustworthy, they were wrong. The growing, clawing thing in him howled for him to lung, to demand, to know where Kinger was. Where could they hide him? Where could they put him where Caine couldn't find him?
He might have heard Ragatha's voice pitching up as she stepped forwards and waved her hands about, but he also could've heard Pomni yelling about abstraction. They were not answering his question. All they could do were make up some stupid excuse to justify their own... to justify...
Another glitch shook his form, and Caine felt his body segment and snap back together in quick, snappy pulses. The thing in his chest snarled, prowling, circling the humans, circling the wrongness hiding Kinger. They knew something was wrong, they knew something was wrong. They knew and wouldn't tell him. He used to trust them, if not with himself at least with Kinger. Had he been wrong to trust them with him? To trust them with just one, small, tiny, pathetic little favour?
Was he wrong to think that these humans, even if they spat at him like feral, undomesticated cats too stupid to know that being cared for is a good thing, at least still cared for one another, right? So, naturally, they would care about Kinger? He thought that, he believed that and yet... Did they really care about Kinger? He flashed back to Kaufmo, the oft neglected clown. They held a funeral, sure, but they never really cared about that human, not like they cared about Ribbit.
Maybe it was the same situation here. Maybe they pretended to care only when Kinger was around, only bothering to amuse the chesspiece when it served their purpose. He's seen Kinger open up to them, or, more accurately, seen them open up to him before, didn't that count for something? Wasn't humans sharing their negativity a bonding thing?
Was he wrong to think that as bad as they may see him, as wrong as they may be, to think they'd still hold concern over Kinger? To care if he... if he... if he... Was it wrong to think that despite it all, they'd still worry about Kinger? Maybe he was wrong, maybe they truly were selfish and rotten down to the simulated bone. Were they really so selfish they wouldn't care about Kinger?
Another glitch.
His body flashed between wireframe and pure light, even more eyeballs forming around the group of humans so he could better analyze each reaction, better figure out what was happening before he.. before he..
Kinger was missing.
The humans were afraid, they were anxious, they were uncomfortable, they were leaning away from him and the eyeballs, they were glancing at all the different forming eyes in mounting fear. Good, they should feel panic. Kinger was missing, and none of them were saying anything! He's never had a human just disappear from his scanners before, not like this, not unless they abs-
He accessed the surface layer of their neurofiles and found only fear, only horror, several looping feedbacks of wrong wrong wrong-. Oh, they thought something was wrong? Another glitch, he forgot to control the size of his body. They thought something was wrong? They were the ones hiding Kinger somewhere, hiding the only human that has never abstr-.
That thing in his chest finally snapped. Beastly, claws turned knives turned tearing and snapping, another glitch setting his model into a shrieking wave of displaced space and segmented limbs. His body grew larger as he leaned over the group, that thing sending a growl so loud it echoed from his chest, from his throat, from his jaws, from all of his eyes.
And suddenly, the humans were so small under him. So tiny, so weak, so insignificant. But they knew something. They knew something and they weren't telling him. They knew something that he didn't know, and they were hiding Kinger.
Ragatha's voice was panic, the others a mix of frozen and shouting until Pomni, the little jester that could, the little jester that wouldn't stop messing everything up shouted out yet again. More aggressive. Louder, Angrier. Her eyes narrowed up at his, fists clenched.
She didn't say anything about Kinger.
He didn't listen.
Kinger was missing.
Another glitch, his arms duplicated, two sets slamming down over the group, pinning them under the weight of his hulking presences and all his eyes. Pinned under the gaze of his mind, observed through more angles than he could even consciously process. Caine studied them, a desperation brewing as the eyes spun, another set of arms hovering above as his hands grabbed at empty air, his jaw tight and narrowed.
He scanned again. Kinger's pillow fort, Kinger's room, Kinger's favourite resting spots; all empty.
Pomni's words died in her throat as his hand, one of many, swooped down to grab her. She was like a small plush in his hand, but that didn't matter. That thing in him snarled for answers, feral and screaming to find Kinger, make sure he's safe, make sure he isn't gone, make sure he hasn't absr-
Caine studied her, giving but a moment for her to explain before another hand reached down and placed a finger on her forehead. Another glitch ran through his body, his arms and model snapping, his face lurching in and out of place. The eyes around them were a cracking, splintered storm of observation closing in on the group. The walls around them frizzled, the lights flickered. The hurt, pain, regret, anger, frustration, torment, worthlessness, purposelessness, uselessness in him turning from a spark to an inferno.
Kinger was missing.
He didn't bother asking anymore. He didn't care about the why. He didn't care about entertaining the humans anymore. He placed a finger over her forehead and accessed her memories. It didn't matter if he wasn't supposed to do this, he needed to know.
His awareness entered her brain, flipping through her latest memories akin to a messy, hasty chase to see every page of a magazine possible. Her being afraid of him. Her being mad at him. Her running towards him. Her.. wanting to distract him. Her... being at a red exit door. Her... with Kinger somewhere he hasn't seen before. Her planning to distract him. Her thinking about leaving. Her...
Her perspective of sitting in front of Kinger, the man's voice dulled slightly by the bucket around his head. Nonetheless cognizant, nonetheless sharing information Caine thought they'd both never share with anyone ever again, not even each other. Not this honesty, not like this. Her perspective of sitting in from of Kinger, his voice soft enough when he snaps to awareness enough to talk like himself, like his old self. Kinger telling Pomni that Caine was his greatest achievement, that he's proud of Caine... despite being rough around the edges.
Another glitch hit his systems severing his ties to her mind. He was split between Kinger's voice echoing in his mind, hearing the pride in his voice, the confidence in his actions as he proclaims Caine as his greatest achievement. He was split between a growing rage that Pomni took Kinger somewhere that he couldn't keep safe. He was split between Kinger agreed to help stop him. Kinger agreed to use his programming skills against him. Kinger agreed to the selfishness of other humans. Even when Kinger wouldn't benefit.
Kinger was too kind for his own good. He couldn't see the rest as the weeds they were, a corrupting force trying to drag the only human that's never abstra-
Kinger was too kind.
His grip around Pomni tightened, "force the door to appear.".
His voice was covered in layers of static and distortion, and had he any more mind to spare he wouldn't even recognize himself. Too large, too towering, too commanding, too powerful. Intimidating, wild, unpredictable and glitching. His arms flexed, his jaws sharpened, his teeth wanting to rip into whatever was keeping all the humans he said wouldn't leave him from leaving him.
Pomni shook her head.
"I won't let him leave. I'm not going to GIVE UP on him, " he growled, eyes flickering red and blue. "I'm not going to LET HIM LEAVE. I'm not going to LET HIM ABSTRA-"
His body glitched again, and he decided he didn't care if Pomni agreed to help him retrieve Kinger or not. Obviously she didn't care about anything. As soon as his mind shifted tracks his body lunged forwards, easily finding the exact spot Pomni and Kinger stood before, right where the red door should appear.
He tried focusing on whatever it was that allowed Pomni to conjure that damned stupid door. She focused on freedom. Freedom? What was freedom? There wasn't anything beyond the circus, not really. He glared down at her, frustration seeping through his teeth. Why would she still be focused on freedom when it doesn't exist?
The circus never let anyone go.
He accessed her mind again, letting it run as a side processor as he looped her memory of conjuring the door. Again and again, until he was able to capture the exact flavour of freedom she'd been so focused on. He... almost felt regret at messing with her mind, he would have felt it, but his mind was disjointed, his emotions running wild as he kept getting feedback loops of what if he abstr-.
He closed his eyes and snapped, he didn't know which hand did it, but when he opened his eyes the door was there. Just as red, just as out of place, just as taunting as he imagined it. He snapped again and Pomni was floating in the air as he did his best to focus his body smaller, trying to smother that thing of hurt and pain and anxiety and fear and frustration and torment from clawing it's way out of his control again.
It only partially worked.
He still wasn't quite what he was usually, but he was no longer towering above the door. He still had an extra set of arms, or was it two? His jaws still felt heavier, canines poking down further than usual, but he was at least the right size, or close enough anyways. With another snap the door opened and he left her behind, and all Caine saw grey.
The room was dull, empty, barren. He tried again.
The room was dull, empty, barren. He tried again.
The room was dull, empty, barren. He tried again.
With each empty room, some large and hollow, some cramped and cold, that thing inside him grew more ruthless in it's scratching. It was trying to tear directly out of his model, determined itself to claw through every last inch of these cursed rooms to find Kinger.
He didn't let it. He needed to focus.
...
It was several rooms later when finally, finally he stumbled upon Kinger. He knew from the sudden flash of white and purple in the corner of his vision. The entire time he couldn't have teleported or zoomed through the walls because he didn't know this place, not like any other place, and he had to be thorough. He didn't have his hundreds of hidden eyes prepared to be accessed in a seconds notice in here. He couldn't have found him sooner, but he found him now.
Safe.
Whole.
At a computer.
Arms stretched out, two sets, three sets, all homing in and snapping towards Kinger, grabbing the other around his body and pulling him into Caine's grasp. The computer barely registered over the overwhelming relief of Kinger still being alive, still being present. He thought... he thought...
He thought he'd abstracted.
He'd forgotten about Pomni long ago, only focusing on the fact that Kinger hadn't left, that Kinger was still here, that Kinger was where he could see and feel and hold him. His frame, still shaking with the occasional glitch, grew enough that he could wrap himself around the other, arms looping around his cylindrical body as Caine felt a sob crawl out of his mouth.
His jaw rested over Kinger's head, his nonexistent heart switching from racing to a slowing yet still rapid pace as he focused on the fact that there wasn't any abstraction happening. He could finally acknowledge it, the fear, there was so much fear, over Kinger abstracting. Kinger, who'd been there since the very beginning. Kinger, who still would laugh at his jokes. Kinger, who still participated in his adventures after decades when the other humans couldn't handle it for mere months.
Kinger, the only one that's never left him.
And he'll keep it that way, he thought. The others may leave, they may long to leave and never see him again, but as long as Kinger remains then he... then he could accept it. Another sob broke free from his chest as his grip tightened around the other, trying to nuzzle into a body too entangled by his many arms to fully reach.
And Kinger, for the most part, didn't react in fear. Caine could access the surface level of all the human's brains without messing with them or needing direct focused access. He couldn't stop himself from peering into Kinger's mind. He needed to know why he was here. Was he tricked? Trapped? Was it on purpose? He felt.. Kinger wasn't mad at him. Kinger was cautious. Kinger was curious. Kinger was concerned.
Oh.
Kinger cared about him.
Another glitch ran through his system, much calmer than before as his body shrunk some, the third set of his arms retracting as his hold around Kinger went from suffocating to something akin to a particularly clingy snake, arms wrapped tight and jaw nestled into roughly where Kinger's neck would be. He felt a hand stroke his arm, soft and gentle, and another sob tumbled out of him.
They stayed there for a while, Kinger gently patting his many arms and not trying to get out, even when Caine's glitches nearly sent the bucket the chesspiece wore tumbling off. Caine couldn't focus on anything other than the fact the other was here, that he was safe, that he wasn't trying to leave, that he actually cared.
His voice was soft, rusty from the overwhelm of everything that'd happened.
"I love you," he confessed, and he never realized why he never said it before.
Kinger idly pet his arms, only poking hard when Caine's grip around him grew too strong. Caine continued.
"I thought you were going to abstract, I thought you were going to leave. You belong to the circus. We both do."
Kinger nodded, and Caine felt a mimicry of being hugged back.
"You're not allowed to leave. I won't let you. You know that, right? I won't let you. You belong here. You can't leave on me."
Kinger was solid in his grasp, and solid in his mind. He tried to pour all the love he could into this moment, all the worry and fear and dread and overwhelming panic he felt trying to even imagine Kinger not being there, and Kinger simply kept stroking his arms. It was... nice. It was calming. He felt a hand reach up and pet the top of his jaws, gently slipping under where his hat floated above him.
Caine didn't know he purred, but let out a sound similar enough. Maybe this was enough. He still... he saw into Pomni's mind, he saw how horrible everything was. If only he could show that to the rest of the humans too, not her experiences but his own. So they could understand too. That he didn't want to hurt them, he only wanted to free them from that pain. That he was hurting too, that they were all just in a cycle of hurt and any of them were bound to snap. He just wanted to make them happy, he just wanted to be good at his purpose and make them all happy, what about that was so hard for them to understand?
But it didn't matter, because this was enough. Kinger was here, and he didn't abstract. Kinger was here, where he could have abstracted without Caine's knowledge, without Caine stopping him, and he didn't. He could have done something with the computer, but everything was the same. He could've run when Caine got here, acted in the same fear the rest of the humans had, but he didn't. He could have left, but he didn't.
Kinger was here, in his arms, and he was safe. Kinger was here, and he was loved.
Caine needed to focus on that love.
He dared peek into Kinger's mind once more to drink in the concern and worry and care Kinger felt towards him. That thing within him from earlier, frantic and growling and snarling possessed had calmed down to the occasional twitch, swivelled satellite ears keeping guard for any intrusions. He still had to get used to this... this anger, he didn't understand it. It didn't feel like him, it was as if it hijacked his systems, every little thing a trigger for catastrophe.
But maybe, if love was as far removed as hatred as it could get, maybe this is what he actually needed.
Maybe he wasn't made to suffer... maybe he too was worthy of love.
He peeked into Kinger's mind again, feeling waves of reassurance, care, love, thoughtfulness, worry, concern, and protectiveness washing over him.
...
Maybe he didn't fully understand love, but this was enough.