Chapter Text
When Verity wakes up, he’s alone. The moon is shining outside the window—where is he again? Verity rolls around for a moment before realizing that whatever he’s resting on is much softer than his throne, only to finally recognize that he’s lying on Mob’s bed. It’s still messy, the sheets rumpled and the pillows messed up as well. Even his blanket is hanging off the side of the bed, one more movement away from falling onto the floor.
Verity should fix it, clean it even, but for some reason, he doesn’t have it in him to do it. He usually does, because Mob never seems to know how to clean up after himself. And usually, Verity does it in secret. If Mob and his friends are far away, doing their normal things, Verity would unfortunately have to turn into his other body to fold or clean things just for Mob.
He is his personal helper, after all. It’s Verity’s job to do all of those things, even if Mob is a grown-ass man who can fold his own pants and hang up his own shirts and hoodies. Verity would gladly do it for Mob as long as Mob doesn’t tell him not to.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses his job as Mob’s helper. That would just mean he’s failed, and sooner or later, Mob will join the same players and people who had thrown him away because they never knew what to do with him or simply got too bored of him.
Verity can play the jester and the dog whenever Mob wants him to, as long as Mob keeps him beside him forever and ever. Verity will do it all.
So why can’t he do it now? Why does it seem so tiring when he’s never felt tired in his life? Verity should fold and clean the bed, and check the closet again because Mob only hung up one shirt but never bothered with the other hoodies he’s ruffled through. He’s a mess of a man. But Verity wants him to be his. Wants him to be his forever friend.
Even if he’s a mess, Verity doesn’t mind. What else would his job be but to clean up after Mob anyway?
It takes Verity a few hours, the sun almost shining before he finally shifts back into his other form to clean Mob’s room. He drags his long limbs back toward Mob’s bed, which he’s finally cleaned and fixed, before turning back into his ball form and falling onto Mob’s bed, bouncing a few times for a moment.
And just like that, his systems shut down easily, without any preamble or any thought beforehand about whether Verity was safe. Who else was going to join Mob’s single world, anyway? Only Grox and Twixxel had access to it.
When he wakes up again, he hears birds chirping and the sheep bleating from the herd again, screaming for food as Verity lies there on Mob’s bed for a few hours, feeling bleary and slow.
It’s like his system is eating dust…
He’s never experienced this before—maybe he did back then, when his creators refused to update his version because they thought he was getting a bit too smart for them to handle. That was when Verity learned how to be paranoid and scared of being killed by his own creators, just because they didn’t know what to do with him. Just because he was too fucking smart and too fast at picking up the things they were teaching him.
He feels so slow. It feels like he’s trudging through molasses or some kind of thick liquid.
The chill feels more prominent now, and more tiring to work through as he gets out of Mob’s bed, slowly rolling out of the room and out of the house. Feeding Mob’s livestock is the same as always; all of them are just happy to be fed, not caring that it’s a yellow ball much smaller than them, one that doesn’t fit into their world at all.
After feeding them, he busies himself with the farm, watering the slightly dried-out wheat, carrots, and potatoes. Then he rolls back inside the house and checks if everything is clean enough before returning to Mob’s room and resting on his bed for another shutdown.
For a moment, he just sits there, watching the clouds through the window from where he rests, the blinds fluttering slightly in the breeze from the cracked-open window. It’s a good day to mine—it’s a good day to mine with Mob today, in fact. It’s such a good day to do a lot of things.
He would have loved it if Mob were here, instead of somewhere far away, where Verity doesn’t even know the details or specifics. He needs to learn more about trusting Mob and being able to exist far away from him. Like Twixxel said, it isn’t healthy for either of them for Verity to constantly ask Mob what he’s doing, push him to explain himself, and expect him to bring Verity everywhere he goes.
Verity trembles for a moment, feeling the chill again. It freezes his processor, slowing down his systems and making him feel like he’s slowly degrading, slowly failing.
“Have you seen my baby?
She's not a dame nor a lady
Not in the way she walks, the way she talks
Or the way she loves me”
“Just look at me
I'm like a monkey in a coconut tree
You know I’m overjoyed 'cause, boy, oh, boy
She's my gal”
The music plays, filling the silence that Verity wishes was filled with Mob’s voice. Hell, he’d even take Grox and Twixxel arguing over stupid things. Verity shakes and trembles again, melting onto the mattress as he feels worse, the chill eating him alive. It almost sounds like a disease, feels like a disease that is slowly spreading and rendering him useless.
The music is slowing down, like the record is breaking up. Verity’s record is slowing down, sounding distorted and low, the music becoming horrifying, as though Verity is slowly losing power.
Verity doesn’t even notice that he’s shut down, because the next time he opens his eyes, his processor is cycling loudly in the silent room. The music is already gone. It’s night by then, and by the looks of it, it had rained, because Mob’s desk is a little wet from the moisture that had gotten in through the slightly cracked-open window.
His processor whirs loudly, a bit too painfully to listen to. Verity would have laughed and mocked someone if they told him that his systems were slowly frying—or was it freezing? He’s never experienced this before. And he’s never shut down so many times in a single month before.
What was wrong with him?
Verity shivers and trembles, the chill getting worse, and he feels like he’s truly freezing. He has no skin to freeze, but for some reason, it might as well be. Verity rolls off the bed, bouncing lightly on the floor when he falls. He lets out a small, pained sound—since when did it hurt to fall from a two-foot bed?
He’s never had problems rolling off the bed, and certainly wouldn’t feel any pain doing so. He’s experienced much worse handling from Grox, after all. That hybrid had dribbled him more times than Verity could count, roughly at that, and he’d always been perfectly fine afterward. But right now, his body feels like utter shit and crap, and he can’t figure out why.
Before moving, Verity runs another diagnostic, his systems booting up once more to recheck whatever is causing him to feel like this. He’s never cared about the chill before because he couldn’t care less about it; it was never this bad, after all. But now, he can’t ignore it. If it’s causing him this much pain and trouble, he might as well run an actual full-on diagnostic.
Unfortunately, the diagnostic takes hours to finish, and so Verity is stuck on the floor, waiting for the results to come out. He watches the sun rise once more, along with the rainwater splattered across Mob’s desk slowly drying without being wiped clean.
Verity should probably wipe his desk down after this.
[DIAGNOSTIC REPORT: VERITY™ VERSION 0.1.66]
Core Temperature Simulation: STABLE
- No measurable deviation in thermal regulation.Structural Integrity: NOMINAL
- Impact tolerance within expected parameters.Neural Feedback Loop: FUNCTIONAL
- No critical corruption detected.Emotional Interface: UNAVAILABLE
- No error codes present.System Status Summary:
- Body condition: OPERATIONAL
- Recommendation: Continue standard function.Run diagnostic again…?
YES. NO.
Verity lets out a small huff. So there’s nothing wrong with him after all—he ran a diagnostic for hours for nothing. Then what could be wrong with him if the chill isn’t some kind of system error?
Verity eventually moves from where he’s resting, rolling out of Mob’s room. For some reason, he can’t hear the familiar bleating of the sheep, the moos of the cows, or any of the other noises Mob’s animals usually make. They would normally be going crazy at this hour by now, especially with how spoiled rotten they are by Verity.
He’s basically been feeding them a bit too much these days, but how can he not when they’re so adorable?
Verity rolls out of the house and toward the barn, rolling inside while still a bit confused as to why it’s so quiet for no reason.
Have they finally decided that bleating loudly isn’t going to make Verity come to them faster—? Verity stops, gasping when he sees the sheep—the cows, the chickens, the pigs. Every single one of them is on the ground, unmoving.
“—What?” Verity whispers, confused, as he rolls toward the sheep pen. He opens the fence and rolls inside, bouncing slightly and hitting one of the sheep on the way.
It doesn’t move. What? Are they… dead?
Verity stops in his tracks. He then glances at the red-colored sheep. James is also lying on the ground, unmoving, his eyes open. Verity quickly rolls toward him, bumping into his side.
It’s hard. Verity rolls back, quickly scanning him just to be sure.
[SCAN REPORT: RED SHEEP “JAMES”]
DECEASED
Cause of Death: STARVATION
Verity lets out a gasp. Starvation? He… how long has he been shut down? It shouldn’t have been more than just a day, right? Verity scans the rest of the animals in the barn, unable to stop the chill and shaking that have overtaken him, before coming back home trembling, a brand-new negative emotion being learned.
Guilt.
How could he have let them all die? What kind of helper is he if he lets the animals Mob entrusted to him die? How could he do that?
He failed at being a helper… He’s useless.
Verity lets out a shaky breath, rolling back toward Mob’s room, unsure of what to do now. He hasn’t disposed of their bodies yet, and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. He could dispose of them, but what will he tell Mob? What will he tell Grox about James, who lovingly colored one of the sheep red just because he has no clue who is who in the herd, even if James is his favorite sheep?
They would be angry—they all would be angry at him for failing to take care of their animals… They trusted him. They trusted Verity to do his job properly. Why did he have to shut himself down knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be alerted if something ever happened to the animals?
The farm on his way back home was still okay, but it had rained—and it must have rained multiple times, because when Verity checked his console, he discovered that he had been asleep for almost five days…
That meant Mob could be coming home now, or tomorrow, or any time soon. Verity wouldn’t be able to find new animals to replace the dead ones, and even if he did, Mob would know. He would notice, because he had already worked with them and knew each one of their unique personalities.
Where could Verity find another one of each of those animals again? Nowhere, of course. That meant Mob would come back, see that his animals were dead, and be angry at Verity for failing such a simple task.
What should he do now?
Verity trembles in Mob’s bed, wishing Mob were here. Then everything would have been fine. Everything would have been so much better.
Just what is his problem? Why is he like this? The diagnostic told him that nothing was wrong with him, so it must just be him. He and him alone were the problem. There was nothing wrong with his systems at all.
Should he lie? Spawn new animals and pretend that the last ones never died? He can do that right? Surely he can? He can spawn anything he wants in this world after all, he has the power…
Fuck…
He can’t do that. Mob would really notice. And not just him—Twixxel and Grox would too. And if they do… They’d kick him out, throw him away. Forever, he’ll lose his only friends in this world…
“Bro, you don’t get it. He made a mistake, like, he sent me in the wrong direction for iron. I dug down and there was no iron there,” Mob explains, now sitting in the stands. Like he said, he didn’t really get past Round 1. Grox reached Round 3 before he got killed and sent to the stands, where all the players who were eliminated from the game now sit as spectators.
Twixxel managed to reach the third-to-last round before he unfortunately got ganged up on by his own teammates because they couldn’t afford another person when they divided the cash prize. It’s icky, bro. Mob didn’t like it one bit, but Twixxel didn’t seem to take it to heart because he never really cared about the money.
More than anything, he cared about joining the fun games, even though Mob has no fucking clue how any of this is fun at all. What do you mean he has to join an almost two-week-long event for something he isn’t even sure he’s going to get because of the skill division? Clearly, there are way better players in this lobby, and it sure as hell isn’t him.
“Dude, you know the rule. No digging straight down.” Grox nudges Mob, who rolls his eyes.
“I trust Verity not to lead me to lava,” he says.
On his other side is Twixxel, who has fallen quiet as he hums. “You think he needs an update or something?” he asks, glancing at Mob, who turns to him.
“What?” he asks. “An update? We’re supposed to update him?” He cocks his head in confusion as Twixxel shrugs.
“Well, like a computer. Well, Verity is kind of a computer, right? And usually, if you don’t upgrade the important stuff, it slows down. And, well—Verity’s an AI. I’m pretty sure the company that made him is still around, but under a different name. I did some digging on the lab where he came from, and I saw a report there about them rebranding because of some accident.” He shrugs.
Mob frowns at that, looking down at his hands as he falls into thought.
He never thought of that. To be honest, he’s always kind of seen Verity as a separate entity from his own identity. It’s like Mob has forgotten that he’s originally an AI helper—or, at least, that he was supposed to be one, or was playing the part of one. But he’s a program of some sort. A sentient one. And one that can turn into a monster.
For some reason, Mob has started to see the little piss ball as an actual individual, separate from his own… you know. His thing.
So it’s a bit jarring to hear the word upgrade from Twixxel and have Verity compared to a computer, because it reminds him that Verity doesn’t actually belong to their world. He just managed to get through here because he could, and because he has the power to.
That itself is terrifying, because at any time, Verity could go anywhere while Mob leaves him—but he doesn’t. He’s taking the deal too seriously, maybe. Mob had a small inkling, a feeling, that Verity might break it, but so far, he hasn’t.
“Oh—I didn’t think of that… I mean, I thought he could self-update.” Mob shrugs before Grox nudges him again.
“Bro, you should be caring about your ball more,” he says.
Mob scoffs, moving away from him. Verity can take care of himself on his own. He isn’t helpless at all. He’s a fucking AI, for God’s sake. He knows everything more than Mob does.
Besides, he’s a helper, which means he can also help himself if he needs it. Why would Mob be worried about the freak, anyway? If he can turn into a ten-foot monster, Mob’s pretty sure he can update himself.
“Oh well, I don’t really know, but I assume you have to bring him to the lab to update him. I saw some computers there and a chamber where you can probably put him for actual on-screen diagnostics. If he’s bugging out, we can probably check,” Twixxel says with a small shrug.
Mob glances at him again. “You’d do that for me, bro?” he asks.
Twixxel snorts. “Do I have a choice? I’m scared to leave because he might go crazy,” he says with a shrug.
Grox peers over at them. “He isn’t so bad, though, bros.”
Both Mob and Twixxel glance at him as if he’s just grown another head.
Grox just grins. “What? I’m just speaking the truth. The guy’s just lonely, and we’re here to fix that! Besides, it’s just like having another head that talks back to you.”
He earns two sets of eyes giving him weird looks. “I guess, bro…” Mob mutters. “... Whatever you say…”
“Well, I guess in a way, Grox is right. Verity is kinda okay-ish if he’s cool… And he’s doing pretty good at stopping his obsessive and controlling personality. Overall, if you choose to ignore the red flags, he’s an interesting guy—er, AI?” Twixxel tilts his head, tapping his chin before scratching his head in thought as Mob rolls his eyes.
“See!” Grox claps his hands and grins at Twixxel, who matches his grin. Mob shakes his head. “You guys are seriously unoriginal. Imagine if Verity snaps. You both will probably take your words back.”
Twixxel gives him a pout. “You’d be sad if that happens. He’s really doing well.”
“I won’t,” Mob replies quickly. Twixxel’s pout turns into a small, knowing smirk as he shrugs. “Okay.” Mob glances at him with narrowed eyes. What’s that supposed to mean? Twixxel’s smirk only deepens when Mob glares at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. Twixxel just shakes his head, trying to look innocent. “Nothing.”
Grox leans over Mob’s shoulder and gives them both a weird look. “What’s what?” Mob huffs, sniffing lightly. “You’re being weird, man. It’s nothing like that,” he says, clearly annoyed.
He and Verity aren’t even friends—better yet, Mob is just trying to exist around Verity. Because as much as he doesn’t call himself a hero or someone self-sacrificial, he doesn’t think he can handle someone else taking Verity in without knowing what they’re getting themselves into.
Just letting Verity around his friends had already made Mob nervous back then. During the first few weeks, he had Grox and Twixxel sleep in the same bed with him just so he could watch over them, just in case Verity tried something again.
“If you thought of it like that, then maybe it is like that. I mean, we can’t really explain why Verity is so crazily taken by you but not us. He never talks about his last ‘friends’ the way he does about you.” Twixxel makes air quotes with his hands.
Grox perks up at that. “Oh, bro, I know what you’re talking about. Verity’s crush, right?”
That gets Mob’s attention. He immediately flinches away from Grox, his face twisting into mild disgust.
“Crush? Come on, dude, we ain’t fucking fifteen. We’re not high school girls!” Mob says, as Grox laughs in his face, pointing at him. For some reason, Mob’s face feels like it’s heating up as Grox continues laughing, and Twixxel chuckles too.
“You ain’t really slick, bro.” Twixxel laughs, patting Mob’s shoulder as he turns to him, glaring. “It’s not like that! I don’t even care about that piss asshole! What are you jerks even talking about? What the fuck?!” Mob asks, flustered.
Because what the actual fuck are they even talking about, man? He doesn’t like Verity like that—maybe Verity does like him, with how he acts and the fact that he sneaked into Mob’s bed that one night, but that’s just typical weird Verity. But come on, Mob? He isn’t going to stoop that low.
“It’s not bad to like a ball.” Grox snorts, hiding his smile behind a fist as Mob glares at him.
“I don’t like him like that. He’s not even my friend. What makes you think I’ll like him like that?” he says. “I’m not even interested in a relationship. You guys are parasocial for real.”
Twixxel snorts again. “You might be surprised how weird you can also get with Verity,” he says.
“That is not true,” Mob gasps, annoyed that these two people he trusted like fuck are ganging up on him over some nonexistent crush. Why would he even like a ball who can turn into an eyeless monster? Like, dude… what the actual living fuck?
“Oh, bro, you’re right. Remember when Mob freaked out when I started dribbling Verity around? He kept saying that we might hurt him, even if Verity told us he doesn’t get hurt!” Grox laughs as Mob’s face heats up at that.
That was because he was scared the guy would explode or something! I mean—he’s some kind of supercomputer, right? You don’t dribble computers around! Fuckinghell!
“That’s because—” Mob doesn’t even get to finish before Twixxel speaks first.
“Right! I remember that!” He claps his hands and laughs loudly. “Then I remember this too, when Mob refused to let us bring Verity around everywhere without him! Like, come on, you’re not even trying to hide it.” He gives Mob another smirk, his white eyes crinkling as Mob splutters.
“What—wha—dude! It’s because I was worried he’d eat you both or something! Come on!” He throws his hands up.
“Okay, bro, it’s alright. Just because you got a little crush on your ball friend doesn’t mean you have to be embarrassed about it. We’re your friends.” Grox pats Mob’s shoulder as Mob lets out a loud shout, pushing them both off.
“What’s a Verity?”
Evbo, who’s sitting just behind them, leans over to listen. The three hybrids freeze as they turn toward the blond, who’s smiling down at them from his seat, tilting his head.
“What? Did I say something weird?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Mob, Twixxel, and Grox say at the same time. “Verity’s just—a code name for Mob’s crush!” Grox stammers.
Mob splutters at that, shocked “What?! I don’t—” Twixxel slaps a hand over his mouth as Evbo gives them a weird look. “Uh… Cool! Okay—they seem like a swell person. If Mob likes them, I hope I get to meet them soon—” Just as Evbo says that, Mob pulls Twixxel’s hand away.
“No!” he says. Evbo clamps his mouth shut at that, startled by Mob’s outburst. A few players look over at them, giving them weird looks.
“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just so possessive of his crush! Oh my goodness! He’s so weird, amirite?” Twixxel says, rubbing Mob’s shoulder.
Oh my god, he’s not making things better.
Mob stifles a groan as Evbo gives them an unsure chuckle. “Okay—well, it’s fine! I don’t really mind! But a friend of my friend is my friend! Eh?” He grins, and Mob glares at Twixxel.
“Yeah,” he mutters darkly as Twixxel gives him a nervous look, giggling under his breath as he runs a hand through his hair, pretending as if he isn’t listening. He’s gonna get a fist from Mob later.