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“How could you say that to their face?”
The Host shrugged. “It was the truth. The Host feels that saying it kindly would not make a difference.”
Bim made a face at him, and looked to the Doctor for help. “Host, the Googles still have feelings, and they were only trying to help–”
“The Googles were in the Host’s room, where they had no business being,” the Host said, voice now low and dangerous. “More, they did not announce their presence to the Host, nor leave when asked.”
“Host, that doesn’t mean that you can–” Dr. Iplier broke off, and turned to Bim. “What did he do?”
“H-he,” Bim stuttered, wracked with emotion.
“When the Googles refused to leave, the Host explained that they were distinctly unwelcome, both in his room and on this plane of existence.”
The Doctor stared. “The Googles do have feelings, Host.”
“Then they should not bother me while I’m working!” The Host turned angrily, stalked to his room, and slammed the door.
Bim and the Doctor were left in the hallway, shocked at the Host’s show of emotion and the use of first person. They exchanged a glance before Dr. Iplier spoke.
“What about the Googles? Are they… okay?”
Bim could only shrug. “They’re never much for feelings, Doc. If you want to talk to them, I’ll come with you.”
Dr. Iplier started for the Googles’ room, Bim trailing behind. Neither of them noticed the dark shadow they left in their wake, the sudden chill, or the black smoke making its way under the Host’s closed door.
“Googles? Oliver?” The Doctor ducked through the door, looking around. The Googles’ normally neat room was a mess of cables and disassembled parts. His eyes drifted from the floor, littered with bits of plastic tubing and copper wires, to the lone figure in the room. “Goo–”
Bim grabbed the Doctor’s shoulder, hard. “I don’t think that’s Google,” he whispered, voice shaking. The lights in the room flickered twice and went out, and suddenly, they were lit only by the glowing face and chest of the figure in front of them.
“Hello, Doctor and Trimmer,” the figure spoke, and Dr. Iplier felt Bim jump next to him. The voice was each of the four Googles, layered over each other, and when the figure turned, the Doctor knew why.
“I am Google Chrome. My primary directive is to amass as much knowledge as possible.” Chrome smiled, darkly. “I was created by the former Googles to accomplish my secondary objective: eliminate the Egos and later, mankind.”
Bim found himself backing towards the still-open door, pulling the Doctor with him, before Chrome laughed. He– They– It– snapped its fingers, and the automatic door slammed shut. The laugh sent a shiver down Bim’s spine, because it was Oliver and the other Googles, mocking him. His friends, now combined into a malignant entity.
Chrome powered down its flashlight, sending the room into darkness, before speaking. “Secondary objective engaged. Subjects 002 and 003 within range.” A reddish light lit its eyes.
“The Host did not mean to offend the Googles,” the Host was whispering, shaking in his room. “He only wanted them to leave him alone.”
Though the room was usually dark, the Host could feel something unusual in the shadow, and softly felt for the light switch. An icy hand stopped him.
“The Host senses the presence of Darkiplier, and would like to remind him that he is not welcome here.”
“Now, Hosty,” Dark sneered, releasing his hand, “that’s no way to greet a friend."
The Host began to shake.