Chapter Text
Swatch had been avoiding leaving the cafe all day. They’d heard enough from the cafe’s patrons to know they didn’t want to see what was happening for themself.
“He’s cleared out one of the ballrooms to fill with explosives!”
“Speaking of traps, careful going down the halls! All of Queen’s fire-breathing portraits are activated, and worst of all, he replaced her face with his ugly mug!”
“So is Queen just gone or what?”
The only thing Swatch knew about what happened to Queen was from that morning: a Swatchling had heard a commotion around midnight and, when investigating the mansion, noticed her absence. All of the staff went on alert, but Swatch was the first to find her when she came back hours later.
Before they could ask where she’d been, Queen ordered, “Swatch Please Be A Dear And Refuel The Rocket Throne”
“Yes, My Lady,” was all they said as they complied.
“Hey Is Anyone In The Cafe?” she asked. The LED question marks on her face flickered frantically.
“No, should I-”
“Cool Be Back In An 8-Bit” And she left Swatch to their task. A direct command from their leader had to be followed; the longer it was ignored, the more stressed they became. Better to follow it right away; it practically became a reflex for them. But the worry over why the Queen was acting so suspicious was its own kind of dreadful. Especially since they didn’t know if she was going to run off again after going to the cafe. They were programmed to serve, would going against her wishes be better for her or did she know what she was doing?
“Swatch Dog Is The ButJuice Non-Alcoholic?” She asked upon her return; she was holding batches of spaghetti code and a jug of drinks.
They answered, “Yes, my lady.”
“Haha Sweet,” she tittered while putting the items in her inventory, “Plus I Can Magically Generate Battery Acid So That Should Last Me” she then leaned against a wall before slumping onto the floor.
“Shall I fetch a Swatchling to carry you to your room?”
“No,” she answered firmly.
Swatch checked the engines since they were already working on the throne and to stall her from whatever she was doing. “Do you need anything, my lady?”
“No I Am 99.9% Sure I Grabbed Everything I Shall Need”
“Need for what?” they asked as they shut the engine hood.
Queen’s internal fans audibly shuddered as confrontation was inevitable. “I’m Gonna Be Out Of Town For Uh A Hot Minute. And While I’m Gone Spamton Is In Charge OK Bye” With that last part hurried out, she grabbed the throne and bolted to the exit. Swatch rushed after her but she added, “Tell The Staff Not To Move File To Recycle Bin The Spam Man. I Was Going To Send A Group Text But I’d Rather Save My Phone Battery For The Trip. Thanks Sass Swatch Toodles” That time she was gone for real and Swatch was too busy alerting everyone of the news like she asked to stop her.
So Swatch focused on finishing that day’s shift in the cafe as normally as possible. A minute into said shift, they heard Spamton enter the front door of the mansion, ask the nearest Swatchling for assistance, and walk away with them.
They’d deal with it when they clocked out, they reminded themself through out the day. The “explosives” could be cleared with some carefully deployed attacks and a lot of brooms. And, hopefully, the pictures of his face were saved on a different layer than Queen’s so that would be easy to fix. If not, it would be nice to paint a fresh portrait for her. She’d come home with a fresh glow from her little vacation, and Swatch would have her pose for them to paint. She’d babble on about what fun she had as Swatch would remind her to stay still. There were only a few minutes left on their shift now and everything was calming down; surely they could clock out early?
Clank. A sound came from outside the cafe. Clank. It reminded Swatch of Queen’s heels. Clank. Clank. But it sounded different. Clank. Clank. CLANK. It sounded BIG.
A large, segmented hand slammed open the door. “HE YY [[Easels]]!” came the familiar screech, though it was deeper than it should have been, “CARE TO SEE HTE [New Look, New You!] THAT YOU [Denied] ME?”
And then the rest of Spamton came through, parading around in the NEO body. Wires trailed behind him from the ceiling. His 9 foot/2.75 meter tall frame and multi-color wings filled the room before he took up an entire booth, resting one of his high heeled boots on the table. Swatch suppressed the flush of red rage threatening to show itself on their perfectly monochrome suit. He finally seized the NEO robot, huh? After all the attempts to the basement they thwarted, it happened. They assumed he was merely going to sell the thing; downloading himself into it was a new low. Did he go through all that trouble just to be tall? His two-toned glasses looked even gaudier than before on Swatch’s carefully crafted creation.
“CAN I GETSOME [[Service]] OVER HERE??” Spamton complained. After pouring an alcoholic mix of Butler juice into five glasses, Swatch walked over to his seat with a platter of the drinks and a plan. Queen may not have any heirs, but there was no reason why she’d give her crown to the crooked salesman. Unless he was blackmailing her which Swatch was going to get to the bottom of. Spamton had always been a chatty drunk, more chatty than his usual self, and they could use that to get him to confess what he’d done.
“Did you find everything to be satisfactory, sir? Nothing wrong?” they asked as they offered the drinks.
“[Satisfaction Guaranteed]? I;M ENJOYING MY [Ride Around Town] BUT ,” he replied before downing an entire glass.
A whisper from some plug girls at the only other occupied table rang out in the quiet, “Is that guy glitching?” Spamton’s head swiveled 180 degrees to face them and his jaws loudly clamped together. The girls ran out the door at this. He turned his head forward while cackling, then had another drink.
Swatch hissed, “Please don’t antagonize the patrons,” and those pink and yellow lens of Spamton's faced them. The salesman got up from his seat; his wings were spread and his claws were tapping on the table.
“ARE [Y O U] GOING TO D0 SUM THING TO [[Stop It! Stop!]] ME?/??”
Swatch stood there, gripping their serving tray, and admitted, “No.” Because he was, as Queen declared, their superior now. His wants and well-being were to be prioritized, even over their needs.
“NO YOU’RE MMAJESTY,” he sneered, “I’’M THE [King Sized Mattress 199.70] NOW 4ND wILL BE [Referral] AS SUCH! UNDERSTOOD>?!?!”
“Understood, your majesty.” His eyes seemed to narrow at this. He grabbed two drinks, unhinged his jaw, and had both at once. He placed the glasses back on the platter, nearly knocking over the last one in the process if not for Swatch catching it. Then he sat back down; his blushing head bobbed from the movement. From the corner of their eye, Swatch saw the only Swatchling working with them, Salmon, step closer. They gave her a reassuring smile and she went to clear the plug girls’ table. The head butler takes care of things, takes the brunt of the blows, therefore they’d handle this.
They asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, your majesty?”
Spamton swept an arm and almost wrapped the wire attached to it around another as he groaned, “Y0U CAN [Explanation] Y THE [#?*!] I HA HAVE THESE gOD DAMN [Silly Strings]!”
“Those wires power the NEO robot and are programmed to be able to move through any and all of the mansion’s architecture.”
“OH THEiR NOT [Mine]. BUT WA1T H OW [Far, Far] CAN ThEY [Extension]?”
“I’ve never measured how long they can extend exactly, but their maximum is definitely less than 50 feet.”
“NO,” Spamton growled, “NO ThAT CAN;t BE! YOu’RE [$#!+] W/TH ME !! THAT. CAN’T. BE. ThIS WA>S SUP POSED TO B [Now’s Your Chance!] THEN i’D HAVE [[Hyperlinked Blocked]] HOW CAN I [Get these while supplies last!] I WOuLD JUST NEED JUST NEED JUST NEED JUST NEED”
He slammed his jaws shut but his voice box kept repeating itself from the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to drink the last glass, still saying those two words, but it broke in his claws. That made Salmon hurry with towel toward him. Spamton stood up with a wobble before she could clean him up. A bubble of static cut-off his repetition. Then he fell over. Swatch caught him before he slammed into the table; his now darkened spectacles still firmly in front of his eyes.
Swatch asked, “Shall I take you to your room?”
“My old room,” he murmured. They pulled him from the booth and Salmon helped with the legs. The two of them carried him to the suites. The wires followed behind, pulled slightly more upwards as the ceiling in the hallway was higher. A Swatchling, Lemon, opened the bedroom door for them. The furniture was all new: his old things had been sold a long time ago. The bed was large and lavish, but after putting Spamton on it, his scale made it look meager. Swatch positioned him as best they could to prevent the wires from tangling and to get his head over the side of the bed.
“CAN,T HAV3 ME [Choke] ON mY VOMI T IN MY [Sleep easy with these life hacks!]” he croaked. That and such a mess would be awful for the linens. Though he already was getting grime everywhere. Salmon was closing the curtains and explaining to Lemon that Spamton would be hungover in the morning. It was a tad early in the evening but he seemed to already be sleeping. Swatch left the others. They entered one of the empty rooms that Lemon should have finished cleaning based on his usual routine. They locked the door behind them. They went into the personal bathroom. They locked that door too.
And that’s when they cried. Where the hell was Queen? What happened to her? Was she safe? Was Spamton considering hitting them back at the cafe? Would he hurt the Swatchlings? Was he hurting Salmon and Lemon right now? No.
No, they can handle themselves. Swatch was just letting the stress get to them, letting the melodramatics play out before returning to realism. They'd be fine. Everything would be fine. It had to be.
They became aware of the snot dripping down their beak and went to the sink to wash up. In the mirror, they saw that their suit was a splatter of saturated reds and blues. After a few splashes from the tap, the colors dulled. They composed themself further, and the stark black and white returned to their outfit. They looked tired though. Well, that was what the glasses were for. Their shift was over, so they retired for the staff quarters. Inside, there were several Swatchlings preening each other nervously. Swatch would have joined but instead they went to their bed where they immediately passed out.