Chapter Text
Caine is running.
Running, and running, and running, his shoes clicking sharply against the floor. Each step sends a jolt through him and comes with an alert— far too loud, his system warns him, far too noticeable. He might get caught before he ever gets a chance to do anything, but he can't stop himself from sprinting as fast as his legs can manage, a giddy breathless laugh caught in his throat.
If he had a heart, it would be pounding. The closest thing to it is the violent swarm of inputs that are soaring through his awareness at record speeds, every sense on high alert, scouting and scraping for any hint of an obstacle between him and his objective. So far, he's in the clear.
He'd been in and out of the pillow fort in a flash, taking his opportunity the moment Kinger went off with Pomni, not sparing a microsecond in case he would be crunched for time, in case Kinger had some trick up his sleeve to prevent him from finding what he was looking for. The thought of a trick or setback came naturally. Because, as Caine has learned, things are always bound to go wrong for him, so might as well expect it. But not this time! In a beautiful twist of fate, all he needed to do was step foot in the fort, take a quick look around, and bam. It was right there! Out in the open!
And now, he finally, finally, finally has what he needs to fix everything. The key to it all? His eyes dart down to the monitor held tight in his arms, reeling all over again from the fact that he did it. He actually did it.
A computer. It's so obvious in hindsight. So simple. So bland of an answer. It's just like the humans to take the most obvious, most derivative, most uninteresting route—
Caine's system blares an alarm when he nearly runs right through an open area of the tent that is far too exposed. He quickly pinpoints a path with more cover and swivels towards it, picking up his pace and trying to keep his steps as light and quiet as possible.
And. Okay! Maybe the lack of intrigue is the wrong thing to be hung up on right now. But forgive him for expecting a little more dramatic flair. Is it a crime to have hoped that their top-secret key to gain direct, unfiltered access his code would have some pizzazz? If it weren't so convenient for him in the moment, he would almost call it offensive! Is he the only one around here who appreciates an opportunity for drama and intrigue when it presents itself?
Honestly, he thinks to himself, teeth twisting into a scowl as he runs even faster, fueled by the swell of anger mixing with the adrenaline. He would have gone above and beyond if this were an adventure. He has gone above and beyond! Exhibit A: the escape adventure. He went out of his way to dedicate an entire area of the circus solely to gaining access to his office, setting the mood with a grandiose, fantastical landscape of swirling lights and monolith spheres of pure computational magic, really hammering it in just how important that admin access would be to the rest of the adventure. He gave it the proper weight it deserved, because he knows how to write a compelling narrative!
But the humans? Nothing but a bunch of talentless hacks. Seriously, all he gets is a busted-up monitor? Not even locked away in a secret compartment or hidden room? Lazy. Tacky. Never mind not being offended. The more he mulls it over, the more he's just downright insulted that they didn't even pretend to make this difficult for him.
In the midst of his thoughts, he nearly misses another urgent ping. Audio detected just ahead. Vocal patterns consistent with…
Oh sugar honey iced tea—
He skids to a stop, back flush against the wall and computer clutched to his chest, just barely avoiding running right past Zooble and Gangle. The keyboard digs into his side, crushed tightly against his elbow in a position that was somehow far less awkward when in a full sprint. He thanks his lucky stars they can't hear the flurry of warnings and pings that are blaring loudly in his own head, sending constant spikes of panic through him every time it detects their voices. The feedback loop is far too distracting for him to even consider eavesdropping on what they're saying. It results in their dialogue becoming nothing but abstract noise as he scrambles to take stock of the situation.
They're not visible, and he doesn't dare peek around the corner, but his spatial awareness is more than capable of informing him that they are extremely close. If he tries to sneak past, they'll have a high likelihood of spotting him. He'll be in full view creeping around with Kinger's computer in tow. And, knowing Zooble, there's not a chance in h-e-double-hockey-sticks he'll be worming his way out of that.
His teeth set in a straight line, eyes darting down to his cargo and back to the direction of the humans' voices. Alright then. No biggie. He's a problem solver. Time to solve a problem.
The easiest option is to wait. They're bound to leave this spot eventually. But when they do, what if they start to head in his direction? Not the most foolproof plan he could come up with. He's already waiting as he goes through his options, anyways, so he puts that idea aside and wracks his brain further, generating alternative solutions.
Should he make a distraction? All he can do is throw something to get their attention directed elsewhere, but what does he have on him that he can afford to throw away? Monitor… no. Keyboard… nuh-uh. Mouse… nada. In fact, isn't it connected to..? Yeah, it's attached to the computer. He tugs at the mouse with his free hand, watching the cord pull taut. All that's left are his accessories, like his top hat, but that might be too obviously linked back to himself and rouse suspicion when they go to investigate, which is the opposite of what he wants. Nothing else is within reach, and he still can't conjure anything, so. Yeah. No dice. Distraction is quickly tossed into a "last resort" pile.
He could try to find another route, but that would risk looping back and being spotted by Pomni or Kinger. He has no clue if they've already returned from wherever they ran off to, and the less distance he puts between them, the more likely they are to figure out the computer is gone, and the faster they might track him down. Not to mention Ragatha or Jax are currently unaccounted for, and trying to find a new route could just lead him right to one or both of them. Ragatha is less likely to ask questions, but Jax… yeah, Caine could do without seeing him for a little while.
Weighing his options, Caine figures… maybe he just has to wait. Which is just. Awesome. Fantastic, even! He can be patient. He's got aaall day, baby.
His fingers drum frantically against the monitor's casing, when he realizes the keyboard is starting to slip from his arm. His eyes widen and he crushes it against himself even harder, choking back a distressed wheeze as the digging in his side becomes painful, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Sweat beads on his top gums in a visual gag nobody is around to appreciate. Or is it drool? Perhaps both, even? Semantics, really. Not important. Not to him!
Are they gone yet? No, he can still hear them. Better question that he hasn't considered, can he sneak by without being seen? Because, he could be wrong, but isn't there a whole bunch of walls around this spot that they could theoretically be behind? Maybe he's in the clear! Or maybe not. Maybe they'll be right there when he rounds that corner and he'll have a whole new problem on his hands and hoo boy ouchie MAMA this keyboard's edge is sharp, isn't it?? Nothing to do about it, though! Better to grin and bear the pain than risk making any noise by letting it fall! Yep. Yep, yep, yep.
Caine glances to the side, just beyond the wall, where his goal is in sight. One of the many hallway entrances, curtains drawn shut with no occupants. It's on the complete opposite end of the tent from the humans' living quarters. Perfectly inconspicuous, with more than enough rooms to duck into. It'll take them ages to find him if he covers his tracks.
But before that, he has to figure something out fast. Zooble and Gangle are still having their stupid little chit-chat in the exact same spot, and he's going to get caught if someone sees him just sitting around here, and he's going to drop the stupid oversized keyboard, I mean come on, seriously, why is this thing so heavy it's a KEYBOARD.
He misses his powers. He misses being able to switch off gravity whenever he wanted. He misses being able to teleport wherever he wanted. He misses when he didn't have to dodge and hide and sneak around his own circus.
The keyboard slips another fraction.
Okay, whatever. They're not going to move, so it's back to his other plan. He can find a better route, if he just backtracks by a tiny amount. Hoisting the monitor, slowly, carefully, he begins to tiptoe back the way he came—
And the keyboard finally falls, clattering loudly to the ground. Zooble and Gangle go silent. Caine locks up, staring down at the keyboard with a profound sense of betrayal.
"…What was that?" Gangle's timid voice sends Caine into a panic.
Zooble doesn't say anything, but he picks up the sound of footsteps. A familiar uneven gait. Oh no. Heading straight towards him. Oh no!!!
Do something, do something, do something—
Caine sets the computer down with a thunk and zips around the corner, putting on a bright grin and leaning against the wall with one hand to not-so-subtly block their path. "Zooble!" He greets, loud and strained, before turning to add, "And Gangle! Fancy seeing you two here! HA! Small world, eh?"
Well… he's doing something! Looks like the distraction plan was the winner after all. Yaaay.
"… Oh. Caine." Zooble, shaking off their initial surprise, rolls their eyes. "Ugh, I should've known." Then, focusing on him again, their eyes narrow. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a leisurely stroll in this wonderful tent we all call home!" Caine sweeps his arm out in a grand gesture to the environment. It looks a little too quick, a little too frantic for his taste, and he tucks his hand behind his head while chastising himself. Stay cool. Stay cool. "What are you two up to?"
Their antenna twitches in time with their eye. "Oh, the usual. Recovering from the bullshit you just put us through."
Caine feels a twinge at the shameless swearing, a directive in the back of his head shouting something about adhering to general audiences and appropriate language in child-friendly environments. He does his best to ignore it. Focus on the conversation, figure out some way to get out of this. "Aha! That. What a whirlwind! I gotta say, you all put on quite the show! And what a masterful turn of the tables it was for us to lose, despite having the element of surprise on our side," Caine recalls with a wistful sigh.
"You're not upset about losing?" Gangle tilts her head, looking at him dubiously.
Her curiosity takes him by surprise and, at the same time, sends a wave of desperate frustration through his entire being. Why are you still talking to me, we both know you'd rather be literally anywhere else, just leave, just leave, just LEAVE—
"Uh- Of course not! All is fair in love and war!" He's frantically trying to come up with a way to scare them off, so his response comes a beat too slow. And, he may be one to usually miss social cues, but he can instantly recognize the moment both Gangle and Zooble's expressions shift into deeper suspicion. They're not being fooled. Zooble squints even further.
"Caine, seriously. We can tell you're up to something." They look past him, taking a step forward to brush him aside—
"OH, you GOT ME!" Caine throws himself against the wall, hand against his forehead in anguish. It makes Zooble back off. Thank GOD. "You just… can't be fooled, can you? And here I was, thinking I had both of you perfectly distracted with my. Uh. My witty and endearing charms!"
That makes them both nervous. They share a look, Gangle hesitantly asking, "Distracted from what..?"
"Alas!" He raises a shaking hand to the sky, eyes shining with unshed tears, completely ignoring her. "Our plan has been foiled."
"Okay, Caine, quit it with the drama, what are you talking about? Are you and Jax pulling even more shit on us?" They're angry now, eyes locked on the exit Caine still blocks as if Jax might be hiding just behind him. They start to storm forward again, muttering, "I swear to god, if he's around here somewhere—"
Caine grabs them by the shoulders, panic seizing him and blurting out the first thing he can think of.
"BEES."
"Let go of me, you little—" Zooble stills, processing. They blink down at him. "Bees?"
He's in too deep. Just keep doubling down. This will go somewhere eventually. He nods rapidly. "So many bees. Rapidly approaching our location. Plotting your demise."
"Wh-wh-what?!" Gangle shrieks, backing away. Zooble does the same, eyes going wide.
YES. KEEP DOING THAT. MAKE IT WORSE. "Programmed specifically to crave human nectar."
Gangle covers her mouth with a squeak. Zooble cringes. "Ew, what?!"
Oh for the love of— "Blood! I meant blood!!" He shouts, arms waving wildly. "They'll suck you dry, like— like sharply-dressed mosquitoes!!"
Zooble's face twists with disgust. They look like they want to say something else, but seem to think better of it, looking fearfully past Caine before grabbing Gangle's hand to start running the opposite direction.
"Tell the others!" He shouts after them. "Spread the word!! They want your NECTAR!!"
"Stop CALLING it that!!"
Caine watches them round a corner, heading towards the safety of the rooms most likely. Once they're out of sight, he props his hands on his hips, sighing in content.
Ah. A job well done.
…Welp! Back to treachery. He scoops up the computer and darts off, giggling madly to himself all the way.
Kinger paces back and forth in front of the pillow fort, careful not to wander in the way of any stray obstacles in his path, muttering under his breath. Pillows fly from the fort's opening, tossed aside carelessly as Pomni frantically turns the place upside down, as if they somehow just lost the computer under a stray pillow. Ragatha has joined them, drawn over by Pomni's very vocal panic, and has already been given the rundown of what happened. She looks slightly distressed, but mostly confused.
"Nobody saw him take it?" She asks Kinger, who just shakes his head.
"We weren't even gone for five minutes!" Pomni exclaims, poking her head out, then turns to Kinger. "Are you sure it wasn't just misplaced?"
"…Huh?" Kinger swivels to her, the metal bucket clacking against his wooden frame. "Oh! Yeah, I'm positive."
Pomni deflates miserably, before seemingly getting a second wind and storming out of the fort. "Okay. Okay! No big deal. We just need to tell the others to keep an eye out. Ragatha, if you could let Zooble and Gangle know what's going on, I'll go tell Jax."
"Tell me what?"
"AH!" Pomni flinches, tripping into the pillow fort and sending the whole thing collapsing on top of her. When she manages to climb her way out, she's greeted with Jax's delighted smirk. He wiggles his fingers at her. She glares flatly at him. "…Hi."
"Sup!" He strolls over and grabs her by the tails of her hat, hoisting her out of the mess of pillows easily before dropping her next to him. She stumbles in place to avoid falling again, Ragatha rushing over to help, and Jax easily sidesteps the both of them to look around. "What's got you all in such a panic?"
Pomni rolls her eyes. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, there's a certain something missing from Kinger's pillow fort."
Jax turns to Pomni, looking at the collapsed fort and back at her, grin widening. "Structural integrity?"
"Wha- ugh. No!" Pomni gestures sharply. "The computer!"
That seems to make him pause. He glances between the three, now looking a touch more nervous. "What? Are you saying someone made off with it?"
They all stare back at him, expressions grim. It's more than enough of an answer, judging by the way his grin fully drops a moment before becoming thoughtful. "Wait. Why's that such a big deal?"
"Huh?"
"I wasn't paying a ton of attention when we were reworking Caine's code," Jax gestures vaguely to Kinger. "But didn't you make something to keep him from messing with it?"
They all instantly recall what Jax is referencing. Before ever reactivating Caine, they went through painstaking efforts to plan as a group for every possible bad outcome, ensuring the ringmaster would be rendered completely powerless while still keeping his powers intact behind a few restrictions in case they ever need to be restored in the future. The dangerous part wasn't keeping the powers, necessarily, but what Caine could do if he ever found the key to unlocking them. It brought into question what could happen if Caine got a hold of the computer and simply reinstated his powers himself, assuming he was knowledgeable enough on coding to do so. It felt like a very safe bet that the AI program that spent its entire existence creating one-off games and NPCs from scratch, every single day, for years, would know a thing or two about coding. So they needed some kind of safety measure.
But, as always, Kinger had a plan. He claimed he could create a workaround, something that could ensure any one of them would still have access while completely locking Caine out. They all felt relieved to have a plan like that in place. Especially now.
"I… yeah," Ragatha pipes up. "I was wondering the same thing. Even if Caine has the computer, can he even do anything?"
Kinger taps at his chin in thought. "Well, in theory, no. He shouldn't be able to. But, since there was no way to test its integrity as a proper safeguard, there's a chance Caine will figure out how to bypass it."
That takes the wind out of everyone's sails. Jax scoffs. "What's the point of safeguards if you can't even be sure they'll work?"
"As far as I'm aware, it'll work," Kinger explains, turning in Jax's direction. "But I'm not flawless in my thinking. Caine doesn't think like me, or you, or any of us. He might see a workaround I never even considered, or even thought possible."
Jax's nervousness only heightens, eyes darting between the others. "So we're just standing around and waiting for him to figure it out?"
"We're working on it," Pomni shoots back. "Look, if you want something to do, then… then go find the others. Gangle and Zooble need to know what's happening."
"Oh, I think they're somewhere that way!" Ragatha adds, pointing towards the middle of the tent.
"Ugh… fine," Jax gripes. Even as he slouches and complains under his breath over not being an 'errand boy,' he's rushing off without even a hint of hesitation.
"While he does that…" Kinger shuffles up to Pomni and Ragatha. In a motion Ragatha finds familiar, he clasps his gloves together, cupping the empty air as if catching an insect. He waits. Then, slowly, he opens his hands to reveal exactly that. A firefly rests on his open palm, blinking a soft yellow light.
Ragatha is entranced by the sight. Kinger lets the little insect crawl onto one finger, presenting it to the girls. "This will help you track him down. The light will blink faster and brighter the closer you get to his location. Kind of like a metal detector! Here, Ragatha."
Kinger holds his hand out. She gently raises her own hand, offering the firefly a new perch, and it immediately crawls onto her finger with a happy flutter of its wings. She smiles at the sight, completely entranced. "I've missed seeing these little guys," she sighs, before blinking and snapping to attention. "Uh- thank you! Kinger. Thank you Kinger."
"No problem," He chuckles, already in the middle of conjuring one for Pomni and handing it off to the jester. She cups her own firefly in one hand, slightly stiff and awkward about it, but smiles up at Kinger gratefully nonetheless.
"Now, you two can split up and narrow down where he ran off to!" He explains happily. "I'll hang around here. I can't imagine I'll be much help trying to chase him down, because of… well, you know." He knocks against the bucket, making a hollow clang. "Besides, I'll need to catch the others up when Jax brings them back."
Pomni nods. "Sounds like a plan." Looking up at Ragatha, she notes just how nervous the other woman looks. "Hey—" The rag-doll's eye snaps to her instantly, anxiety causing her pupil to shake, which tells Pomni everything she needs to know. So, she offers an easy plan to follow. "You wanna check the perimeter while I search the middle, then meet back here if we don't find anything?"
"Y… yeah!" Ragatha, carefully cupping her own firefly, smiles shakily. "I can do that."
With that, they split. Kinger is left to watch— er, listen, as the two scurry off in opposite directions. When their footsteps finally fade, he turns to his destroyed pillow fort. He peers down at the mess, shoulders slumping, before resolutely kneeling down and getting busy with rebuilding.
It's not the first time his fort has been knocked down, and he expects it won't be the last. But, unlike the past, it's gotten easier. He doesn't have to stumble blindly in a stupor, his frazzled mind unable to connect the dots between his safe haven of darkness and the mess of scattered pillows where it once stood. Object permanence is one of the first things to go when he's… not himself, he should say.
Feels like a perfect encapsulation of his time in the circus, staring down at the old faded pillows. They show their age, denoting just how long they've been around, even though a simple video game asset should not reasonably have the capacity to undergo tiny insignificant changes such as fraying threads and sun-bleached colors. And yet, it's there. He wonders if the rest of the tent shows signs of aging, or if this is one of those things that came about due to his own influence. It makes sense, he supposes; in a world where anything they make up can be manifested as a tangible thing, it only seems natural that, as he views an object as older, it begins to show evidence of its age. Because the alternative is that Caine, someone who famously resists change, deliberately programmed objects to degrade over time in a realistic manner.
Kinger, knelt in front of the pile, begins to sweep everything out of the way, until he's cleared an empty spot to begin placing the foundation. He starts to make the first layer, deciding to spawn in a few extra pillows (significantly more vibrant and sturdy when compared to the older ones) on top of the pile with a plan to make the fort a touch bigger. Not too big, but with a little more elbow room to accommodate the computer. When it gets returned.
…If it gets returned.
Kinger's grip on the pillow he's adjusting tightens. No, no thinking like that. He trusts Pomni and Ragatha to find Caine and stop him. He trusts himself to have put enough preventative measures that it won't be a problem in the first place. Well… mostly. Some things, as of late, have started to sew seeds of doubt. Glimpses of a glitching, enraged Caine lunging at him and demanding to know what Kinger did to him flash behind his eyes. He recalls the way he changed on a dime, putting on that signature smile and skipping off happily, leaving them all reeling from the sheer emotional whiplash. He recalls, despite the unstable start, holding out hope that he just needs time. There was nothing for them to do anyways; apologies were already given, lines already drawn, the situation fully laid out for Caine. All they could do was wait. See how he would react to the new pecking order.
That hope is holding on by a frayed thread after what Pomni showed him.
Kinger isn't all that attached to his old room. It took little consideration to offer it up as a temporary place to stay for Caine. The memories in there are old and faded and fragile— afternoons of reading in the company of another, sharing recollections of their day in hushed murmurs, trading inside jokes and warm laughter. He could just as easily think back on them anywhere, anytime, thanks to his newfound clarity. Memories are no longer in short supply for him. So, what better to do than offer it up as a show of acceptance?
It's safe to say that he was thoroughly shattered upon seeing what Caine did. Where Kinger could once be flooded with fond memories after a brief glance of those royal purple curtains and that deep crimson armchair, he couldn't even recognize it as the same room.
Is this how little Caine thinks of his offer? Or, alternatively, did he recognize the weight of being granted access to his room and still chose to destroy it? To what end?
So many questions ran rampant through his mind, and to his rapidly-growing distress he realized… he had no answers. He couldn't settle on a single explanation, because he just didn't know. It all led to a very humbling, very depressing conclusion. Maybe he's not as perceptive as he once thought.
If he was, maybe he would have noticed that Caine was far too unstable to simply be let loose in the circus, even without his powers. Maybe he would have come up with a solution to fix his code that didn't end in accidentally deleting him and nearly destroying the circus itself to begin with.
Maybe he would have seen Ragatha was hurting far before they had their talk in the Loser Corner.
Maybe he would have been there for Pomni before she broke down crying in a literal simulated hell.
Maybe he would have prevented the escape adventure before Caine sent them on a wild goose chase for an exit that never existed.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
He doesn't get the privilege of hindsight. All he can do is learn from it, be more attentive, more active, more aware. Thank goodness he actually has a way to do that now, all thanks to Pomni's quick thinking and a conveniently-placed bucket. At the same time, his mental clarity comes with a major responsibility, both for himself and for the others. He can't slip away anymore. He can't be a crazy old hermit in an old pillow fortress. He needs to be here, where he can keep an eye on things.
And he's happy to be more like his normal self, don't get him wrong! It's just… ever since Caine's deletion, he's been laser-focused. First on fixing their world, then on fixing Caine, which is very much a work-in-progress. All work, all solving problems, no breaks, no time away from his thoughts. After years and years of stumbling in a mindless daze, simply functioning at a normal level of critical thinking is turning out to be exhausting.
In fact, he realizes as he gets to the second layer of pillows, hands stilling mid-movement… he misses being less aware.
Which is crazy. It's crazy that he wants to be crazy, even if it would only be for a day to let his brain have a break. Besides it being ridiculous, it's selfish. He can't afford to take a break, not when there's so many problems that still need solving. Pomni and Ragatha need him. They all need him. Nobody else has his knowledge on programming or Caine as an AI, both being incredibly vital when they're still trying to settle in a new normal.
It's selfish and it's stupid, so he buries the thought and gets back to work.
He's only gotten through a couple more layers when he picks up the sound of footsteps again. Initially shrugging it off, assuming it must be Pomni or Ragatha passing by as they make their rounds, he then freezes when he hears a new voice.
"…Kinger?"
He jolts and looks up, realizing that it's not just one pair of footsteps. It's several. Jax is back with the others. Gangle was the one to speak, he recognizes that much, and Zooble must have been with her.
"Hey!" Jax greets. "Didn't expect us back so soon?"
"Nope! That was fast," Kinger remarks, even though he has no idea how much time has passed. Goodness, he must have been way too deep in his own thoughts.
"Yeah," Jax's voice drawls. "Guess I'm just that good."
"We were already heading this way," Zooble's monotone voice deadpans. Kinger is glad the bucket hides the smile in his eyes when hearing Jax sputter defensively. Zooble continues, sounding more urgent and getting closer by the second. "Anyway, what happened? We thought Jax and Caine were trying to pull another prank on everyone, but he says he has no idea what I'm talking about." Kinger sees their lower body kind of jerk in Jax's direction, then tacking on in a low mutter, "Worst of all, I actually believe him."
"Honestly," Jax scoffs. "You team up with a guy one time, and suddenly we're inseparable partners in crime. This is exactly why I decided to swear off pranks."
"You call those pranks? Wait, you swore them off? Since when?!"
"Since ten minutes ago, Zoob. Keep up."
"But," Gangle pipes up, voice threading anxiously. "Caine told us what you were planning. He said that you made some kind of… blood-sucking bee swarm? I think? And he was supposed to be the distraction."
Kinger stills. He feels the lightness in the atmosphere die instantly, the tension in the air suddenly extremely suffocating.
Gangle seems to notice. "…What is it?"
"Gangle," Kinger reaches a hand towards her, raising the bucket to look her in the eye. "You spoke to Caine recently?"
She shrinks a little, clearly confused by the gravity behind his words, and she looks over to Zooble. They're staring at Kinger, eyes narrowed. "…Yeah? We were talking when I heard some kind of crash, and Caine showed up out of nowhere." They jerk a thumb back towards the way they came, eyes darting wildly as they try to puzzle out what has everyone so on-edge. "But… we didn't stick around, because he was acting so…"
Kinger stands fully. They blink up at him in alarm. "Did you see him carrying a computer?"
"I… no? You mean your computer?" They look between him and Jax. "Is he— was he trying to—" Kinger can see the moment it all clicks, and they smack their forehead. "God, I'm such an idiot. Of course he was trying to distract us."
"How long ago was this?"
"A minute or two, I think—"
"Then we have no time to waste." Kinger instantly goes to summon another firefly, hurriedly placing it in Zooble's hand and explaining what it does before they even get a chance to ask. "Go. Quickly. If you just saw him, that means we still have time to track him down before he does anything with it."
"I…" They stare at the firefly, then at Kinger. Ultimately, they nod. "Okay. Gangle, you coming?"
Gangle nods, and they both hurry off. Jax shoots Kinger a lazy wave and trails behind the two without a word. His gait is casual, hands tucked into his overall's pockets, but Kinger doesn't miss the way his ears have pinned back slightly. As much as he may try to hide it around Zooble and Gangle, he's just as anxious about the situation as everyone else.
And he has every right to be. Whatever reason Caine had to steal the computer, it isn't a good one.
But they have time. Kinger knows they can fix this. Even if he doesn't trust himself as much as he once did, he can trust the others.
At first, Caine plans to beeline it for the unoccupied hall on the first floor. But if he's going to hide, he's going to do it right. What could it hurt to go up an extra floor?
As it would turn out, a lot. It took an inordinate amount of time running in circles to remember where the heckarooni he put the access point to the other floors, only to find that there are no access points. At least, not any that would be obvious. No elevators, no stairs except the spiral one to the crow's nest that basically goes nowhere, not even a floating platform to hop onto. Why did he have to make this place impossible to navigate?!
In his panic that only heightened the longer he scrambled to recall how his own circus tent is structured, he finally found a hidden pathway in that giant haphazard stack of blocks. Huh. He forgot those were hollow.
With no time to waste, he makes his way to the second floor, putting further distance between him and the humans that eases his nerves considerably. Merely glancing over the balcony, the vantage point makes him feel more like himself. But, of course, he can't indulge in the moment for long. He keeps to the wall, ensuring nobody could see him from below. Quickly making it to the curtained arch and ducking through, Caine sprints down the hall and selects a room at random. He throws the door open, rushes in, and carefully shuts it behind him with a quiet click.
Hunched over the computer, code thrumming with energy, standing in the pitch-black room, Caine presses the side of his face to the door. Listening. Waiting.
…
Nothing. Not even distant voices. He's alone. For now, he's okay.
A rush of relief nearly knocks him off his feet. He's done it. But there's no telling how much time he has, so he holds the computer closer and hurries to a far corner of the empty room, one arm stretching out to grasp blindly in the complete and total darkness until he makes contact with a wall. He slides down, monitor nestled in his lap, taking another moment to clamp down on his growing buzz of excitement before he sets everything on the floor. Feeling the side of the computer's casing, he finds a divot on the bottom right corner with his thumb. Yet another thrill goes through him as he pushes down, watching the button blink on with a dim white light, the computer's screen flashing on a beat later.
He stares intensely as it boots up, bouncing in place, eyes flicking to the keyboard thrown haphazardly to the side. Oops. That's not right! He slides it to a spot in front of the computer that feels more natural, mimicking what he remembers seeing in those images of the macroverse, then grasps behind the monitor blindly until he finds the mouse. Adjusting everything once, twice, thrice, drumming his fingers against the space bar, he sits on his knees and he waits.
…
And. He waits.
…
It's. Probably just taking some time! No biggie.
…
As the seconds tick by, his initial excitement sours. Doubt creeps in. How long is this going to take? Is this normal, or should he be doing something? He smacks the side of the computer experimentally, brow furrowing when all he gets in return is an agitated flicker of the screen. Is it not going to work? Should- should he have tested the computer before running off with it? He grips his lower teeth with one hand, the other gripping at his arm, fully curling in on himself as he watches the screen for any change, but again, there is none.
Then, the worst question of all sinks its teeth in him. What if this was the trick?
What if Kinger put this in the fort as a red herring, assuming (correctly) that Caine would grab it and think nothing of it? Is that why getting away was so easy? Did he and Pomni come back to find the computer gone, only to laugh at his expense? Did he tell the others? Are they all in on it??
Are they all just waiting for him to figure it out? Making fun of him? Planning to make him pay for his act of rebellion?--
Caine flinches when the screen flickers to a new one. Blinking down at the array of icons, five in total, the swarm of paranoid thoughts is instantly silenced. He loosens the grip on his teeth and huffs a silent laugh.
Nope. Not a trick. Yet again, he's thinking too highly of them.
Ignoring the tremor in his hands, he gets to work, testing the movement of the mouse and watching it dart all over the screen. He's… never done this before, to be totally honest, but! He's a fast learner!
If Kinger could do it after years of being out of practice, then surely Caine would be no different, right? Right!
He spins it in circles. Then figure-eights. Then traces the shape of a square.
Can't be too hard. He's just gotta… gotta…
He stares at the now-still pointer hovering in the middle of the desktop, blanking on what to do. Maybe he should just start opening things and seeing what works?
As he goes to do just that, something pokes at the back of his mind. It's nothing more than a whisper, a stray sense of wrongness that is easy enough to ignore. He brushes it aside, or. He tries to, because the next moment—
You're not supposed to see this.
His hand jumps from the mouse like it burned him. Frozen, he stares down at it, flexing his fingers.
He. He didn't… he didn't mean to do that.
…
Ha! Silly Caine!! He goes to grab it again, and… struggles. He thinks at first that it's just the sleeve of his coat catching on itself, somehow, but no. It's something else. It feels like magnets are in his hand and the mouse itself, repelling each other. Odd. And the moment his hand makes contact—
You can't edit yourself. Are you crazy? You don't have the mind of a programmer. Worse, you don't have a mind at all. You're just lines of code.
It takes monumental effort to keep his hand from letting go again. He watches, confused as it twitches in place against his will. It's like invisible strings are wrapped around his joints, pulling with all their might, tighter and tighter.
And even then, what do those lines add up to? A defective amalgamation of half-baked ideas and faulty programming.
His eyes drift to the screen. He stares at the recycle bin.
A prototype. A shoddy first attempt.
His vision goes wonky. The room flashes red and blue.
A mistake.
He jerks the mouse to the side and clicks on the first icon it reaches. A window opens, revealing a single folder inside labeled "CANDA." He clicks it without a second thought. The strings pull tighter, the repelling grows stronger, just holding the mouse is like trying to keep a grip on a pan handle that sat for hours over an open flame, but he keeps his focus just enough to sort through the new window that appears.
A ton of folders greet him all with important-sounding names, but nothing piquing his interest. Until one folder in particular, when he tries to hover over it, sends his system into a panic. "Characters." He clicks it.
Then he sees it. A folder of neural scans, but more importantly, a folder labeled "AI". The first confirmation that he's on the right track, so he instantly opens it to find—
And his hand rips itself away, every fiber of his being telling him to STOP. He grips at his wrist, growling in frustration that his own programming is working against him. But, the next moment, he laughs! Because isn't that just the story of his life? Caine is his own worst enemy when it comes to getting what he wants. Ha! Big whoop! What else is new?
Still, he's starting to get worried. This might be a bigger problem than he anticipated. He knew some protections must have existed to prevent him accessing his own code-- a necessary precaution when it comes to an AI as intelligent as himself-- but this? He can't even glance at the screen without a flurry of NO STOP BAD blinding his thoughts.
Well, whoever is responsible for hard-coding that into him, they can give themselves a pat on the back! Incredible work, team! Thanks to them, even now, he's a prisoner to the restrictions placed upon him by his creators. People who aren't even around anymore save for Kinger, who has reduced him down to nothing. Stripped him of the only tools he's ever been given to fulfill his purpose. Chipped away at his code until he became no more functionally-important than an NPC.
Thanks to Kinger, he's just as trapped as he was all those years ago.
And, oh boy, does that thought send waves of outrage through his code. A violent glitch cascades over him in a crashing wave that doesn't retreat, but rather, pulls him under. As his anger builds and builds and builds, the warnings are deafened, dragged into the riptide, drowned out by a sudden rush of emotion that ripples from him and throughout the room. The pitch-black beyond the light of the screen flickers with grid-like textures and glimpses of the Void beyond, an irate sound ripping itself from Caine's throat.
He won't let them win.
The floor, walls, roof, even the computer itself glitches rapidly, a reminder that he still has an innate power over this world. He can still affect his reality. He doesn't have to accept defeat.
He won't let them win.
Fighting through the glitches, using the sudden surge of determination, he reaches for the mouse. The process is agonizingly slow, and still, he pushes. He pushes against the restraints on his psyche, pushes past the burn of the screen that glares at him in disdain, to confirm, yes. It's there. It's right. There. His code.
He just needs to open it. One click. One click is all it will take, and he'll finally, finally, FINALLY—
The second his hand is back on the mouse, he goes to the icon in one sharp movement, wasting no time to open it and-- and--
...
Instantly, the pressure on his mind fades. The strings go slack, the repulsion disappears. Even the rampant glitching, slowly yet surely, subsides. Caine stares, jaw slack, at the screen.
This is it. By all accounts, he's done it. He's fought against his own programming tooth and nail, driven by sheer spite, to reach the finish line.
Except he isn't greeted with the sight of his grand prize for winning the race. There is no terminal to access, no code to edit.
No. Instead, a new window pops up. Small and plain.
With a single. Simple. Prompt.
To access this program, please confirm you are human.