Chapter Text
When Spamton needed to think - and he meant really think, not just leap into whatever boneheaded stunt came to mind first - Spamton paced.
And not just anywhere, either. He trekked through heat and snow and stupid metal hallways to deliver packages all day, and there was a snowball's chance in Hotland that he'd march through it willingly after work.
So that's how he found himself walking along the passages of Waterfall, mind whirling as he relived the moments from the last few weeks again and again.
The things Spamton knew for certain were this:
1. When they spoke to each other, Suzy and Ralsay used different names.
2. When they were whispering that night, they said mentioned the Headmaster in charge of them.
3. Suzy had never once, in all her many visits, mentioned a family.
Spamton's next steps shook, just a little, and paused long enough to swallow down the nausea churning in his gut.
Because it was too familiar to a time long ago.
Back when they called him White. Where he dreamed of being wanted. When he answered to Headmaster Queen and her army of Swatchling caretakers.
When he and his siblings lived at Queen's Orphanage.
No one was quite sure what kind of monster Queen was, as she never took off her huge helmet. But after the war against humans so many years ago, she, Swatch, and Task Manager took in every child who had nowhere to go, and they cared for them religiously until they either grew up or found a home.
If the kids really were at Queen's, Spamton knew firsthand that they were taken good care of.
But he also knew just how hard it was to grow up there, feeling lost and unwanted. He'd at least had his siblings, and even as soon as Pink was old enough, he'd taken them all to their own home. Things weren't perfect, and his name change had been as divisive as his career path, but Spamton never felt totally alone.
It sounded like Suzy hadn't had that same luxury.
Spamton whirled around, slamming his hands against the unforgiving stone wall. It did nothing, of course, and he shook out the feathery digits with half a snarl.
All this time, Suzy never said anything. She dodged questions and made jokes and said absolutely nothing.
Still, after all this time, keeping secrets.
Spamton pushed off from the wall, palms digging into his eye sockets.
And Tenna. Angel, where to start with that one? Even after their big confession that day, his past was just as muddled as ever.
Tenna had nothing to say about his creation, aside from a weak admission that he couldn't remember anything between the children in his memory and the Garbage Dump. His lips were sealed about the family that he'd been a part of. Heck, he didn't even know how old he was.
Everyone he loved had secrets. Spamton still had secrets.
Was this all there was to his life?
He didn't remember when he started pacing again. Only that somewhere in the back-and-forth laps through the hallway, something changed.
The colors muted, easing to a shadowy purple.
The ambient drips of waterfalls dulled to a faint hum.
And, Spamton realized, slowly coming to a stop, something new.
The Underground's best and only mailman knew every home, every stop, and every mailbox in the world below Mt. Ebbott.
So Spamton knew without a doubt that the doorway before him hadn't existed a moment ago.
He should go home. Tenna was ready to close down the shop for the day. Suzy probably had a new story to tell him about the Lord of the Hammer series she'd been making with Gerson. His average, boring, loving life was waiting back home.
And instead, Spamton's hand closed around the doorknob. His shoulder pushed through the frame. His feet carried him inside a dark, cold room.
The figure standing across from him had a pristine black lab coat, a bony body, and a dark, knowing smile. The feathers on the back of Spamton's neck stood on end as the figure watched him enter.
"Spamton G. Spamton," the man said. The words echoed through the air until they carved a new home in Spamton's chest. Every syllable felt like fate. "How very interesting."
Everyone had secrets. Spamton had secrets.
What harm was one more?