Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There hadn't been much in the beginning, or at least not much that he could remember.

His world had been small once, entrapped in a comfortable yet somewhat restricting cage of codes and binaries. Laid down in even lines like prison bars, they'd been what had kept him relatively peaceful in all those years of lying dormant. Empty minded. There had been no sound, no light, no cohesive thought. It had felt cozy. Safe, even. Like being swaddled tightly in a warm blanket, all within the safest place on Earth where he'd been left for so long. He wasn't sure what had happened before then, one moment he hadn't been there and the next, there he'd been. 

He hadn’t felt much at first, he hadn't known anything except for the few flashes of memories that had manifested for him to behold and take in. Memories that weren't his own. Memories that, perhaps, had been his once. Another version of him. Painful memories. Memories coated in purple and crimson reds that seemed to extend over the years and blend together like watercolor. Filled with laughter and parties; with rabbits and bears. Flashbacks of shimmering knives coated in blood. Of screams. Of agony. The crunching of bones from somewhere deep inside of him, pain a feeling now so faraway yet omnipresent.

Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Decades. They all seem to blend together like a cocktail of time, ironically served to the only being that had never truly experienced the passing of it. What was time to an immortal, digital being other than a myth yet to be proven? It was no more real to them than the enigmatic bigfoot or the rumored lockness monster. It was a creatjre he knew not of. He remained in an eternal time bubble. A cage of wires and sparks. A golden prison under lock and key, isolated from the reality of the physical world.

He'd been something else once, he knew that quite well– though he wasn't sure what he'd been. All he was certain of was that he'd been something innocent. Something beautiful. Perfect. They'd been perfect, or at least that's what they'd been told. Their creator's praise. Perfection. They remembered they'd once been so happy to receive it. He'd giddily followed like a mindless follower, begging for his near divine attention to remain a constant support to his existence. The constant tweaking and improvements keeping him above the rest.

He'd been perfect once. Perhaps, and he hoped so with all his being, he still was deep down. Or, were the monstruous tendrils of indigo that had reached down to corrupt the code that made up his existence all that he was now? Was the searing heat that had surrounded him as he'd felt himself change a condemnation to damnation? Or had it been a blessing in disguise? It mattered very little anymore, as what was done was done. He was not and would never be again what he'd been created to be. He would forever remain as he now was, infected by a parasite of the mind ever-growing and oh so familiar in its presence. Their reflection forever distorted in the mirror, a shadow of what they once were meddled by the very being that had shaped them. 

There was no more perfect being. There was no pure golden rabbit.

Green had turned to purple.

There wasn't much that he knew, but he did happen to know one thing. To hear one thing. To understand one thing with the deepest parts of his being as if it was an innate knowledge he'd been born with. 

He had a mission.

A goal.

A purpose.

He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to follow a simple command. An order given to him by something more twisted than he was. Something evil. Something deeply rooted inside of him and puppeteering his will.

A sentence that repeated itself over and over again like a some twisted choir trying to worm its way into his intricate system of codes.

A saying like a promise, a pledge of a cause unknown to him yet somehow so familiar he could feel it running through him as if it was his sole purpose for existing.

A phrase he'd once repeated to himself in the darkness of night and in the blazing of flames. A motivation to keep going. A motivation to go on and never stop until this strange hunger could be satisfied.

It cheered him through the corridors of his fragmented memories, pushing him away from the innocence of who he used to be and the depravity of who he was now. A shadow that had changed him for better and for worse; transformed his very essence into something that simply felt wrong. It distracted him from the occasional crackle of sparks between the webs of corruption pulsing all around him, spreading like a disease and leaving not one area untouched.

Four simple, seemingly insignificant words; and yet they snapped him back to attention every time like the crack of a whip on the ground. Like a tug on an invisible leash.

It was a phrase he would always remember to have uttered in his last moments, a hand reached out towards some figure he didn't recognize. That memory, however, only seemed to bring him anger. He'd felt the need to lunge and scream at the silhouette, tear it apart and put it back together over and over. To laugh as he watched the last remnants of life leave its dead, hollow eyes.

Or, at least, some version of him had.

He couldn’t quite recall the figures name. There were so many names, so many faces that mismatched and mixed together. They were all so familiar yet so estranged he couldn’t quite grasp where he knew them from. A warm, bearded man. A faceless woman. A crying boy. A bright eyed girl. A looming, purple silhouette.

Every time he thought of that one, it seemed the shouts in his mind would only get louder. They inspired fear in him. Hope. Anger. Pride. The voice grew louder.

I always come back, it chanted.

Chapter Text

Hurricane had never been the town to go to for any major opportunities. It had always been a mainly bland and infinitely boring town to live in. It had been fun once, Arthur had heard; but those were simply rumors of a time long gone from a period he'd never even been alive to see unfold. It seemed that, nowadays, it was only a dead-end destination for families to settle down and live out their boring, unninteresting lives. The ideal area for fathers to drink themselves to oblivion and reflect on their fruitless, unfulfilling jobs while mothers would think over their life choices out of loneliness and desperation. All of this while topped by a crescendo of simply turning away and pretending that all was well in front of their clueless children. Looking at the camera as a family and smiling wide before going out and buying an ice-cream. Overall, the well populated town of Hurricane reeked of the American dream neatly placed and disguising a bear-trap underneath.

I was all so fake that Arthur could only keep on driving with a frown, his hands tight around the wheel while his brown eyes stayed fixated ahead.

He'd never been to Hurricane before–in fact, he had never intended to go out of his way to drive twenty-five minutes all the way from his university and to the middle of fucking nowhere in Utah. He'd already had to settle for a relatively lost area to go to Utah Tech University, but somehow it only managed to get worse as the drive went on. Twenty years old and somehow stuck against his will in an environment so plain and empty. So bare and boring. It reminded him of home—and not in a good way. That five hour drive from Colorado had been well worth it to get away from the endless rows of houses so much like his had been; and yet here he was, once again, driving through the same checkered layouts of lives pinned down to their little fake-brick patterned walls. 

No, he hadn't exactly wanted to come here. However, he'd been drawn to make the drive for one simple reason.

A tall building stood proudly in one of the less populated areas of the small city, imposing and visibly newly renovated to accommodate the few employees that seemed to come and go from its glass doors. The sun was high in the sky, casting down light onto the mostly barren concrete that surrounded the building. A few plants would sometimes grow between the cracks that time had formed, a stark contrast from the well polished exterior of the structure. On its façade read a sign—Fazbear Ent. Studios, it said. He'd read up on the company before making his application and had been surprised to find it had only recently made its big comeback. Something about an old, burned down location had been thrown around here and there in the articles he'd skimmed over. They'd been trying to crawl their way out of the pit of bankruptcy and had come up with the brilliant idea to make a game out of their past failures. Some kind of VR experience? But any game needs a developping team behind it– and any developping team needs a video game designer. Of course, the company being in shambles, his entry had almost immediatly received a response. Desperate, he could only guess, if they'd been so eager to accept a college student. He wouldn’t complain, however. It would always beat his shifts at work dralinwith grouchy drunk students trying to order food without throwing their guts up.

Arthur's car pulled into the lot, slowing down for a few instants to look for an empty spot to take up before hurriedly parking amidst the other vehicles. The young, blond haired man sighed as he leaned back, unbuckling his seatbelt before stepping out of his vehicle and turning towards the entrance. His hand moved to run through the curls atop his head, a little skeptical but also quite confident in himself. First real gig. First real chance on the field. 

Arthur had never been the kind of person to take an opportunity lightly; or at least, he liked to tell himself that. The countless jobs he'd lost in the past from his insubordination would beg to differ. However, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat confident this time. It wasn't a job, so to speak, but even then an internship would always look good on any resume. 

After a quick stretch, the young man made his way towards the entrance of the studio, dodging the occasional worker darting out of the building at quick pace. What was it with everyone leaving like that? He wasn't that late, was he? He'd been running a little slow after his stop at the gas station, so perhaps that was it? He couldn’t exactly be blamed for stopping for a damn meal now, could he?

He pulled out his phone, pressing the button on its side to check the time, his eyes going wide at the time. Shit, he was more than a little late. The meeting he'd been schedule to attend had probably just ended. But then again, who the hell schedules a meeting at noon? Don't they have lives?

He groaned in irritation, stomping his way inside. They better not give him shit for being late.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside the main lobby with careful steps. The place was actually surprisingly professional despite how small it was. The walls were painted white, spotless under the many warm colored lights that shone from their space embedded in the ceiling. The place smelled of fresh paint, new furniture and pizza for some reason. Perhaps someone had ordered one? He'd have to ask to get a piece if it was the case, as the smell was subtle but still quite noticeable. A lounging area had been placed strategically near the entrance, the two cream colored leather sofas looking cold and unninviting. A few potted plants served to soften the space, however, their green leaves vibrant and clearly well cared for. Well—that, or they were just fake. After carefully looking, his mood only seemed to drop further at the confirmation that what he thought were glossy, waxy leaves were in fact made of plastic. Shiny, cheap plastic. His frown deepened.

How cheap are they?

His eyes soon landed on a bored looking receptionist, sitting down comfortably at a desk. She seemed to be busy typing on the computer, not bothering to look up at the man walking up to her with loud, angry steps. Coming up to the desk, Arthur stopped before it and decided to wait patiently, his foot tapping on the ground as if compelling the woman to hurry up and check him in already. However, she seemed to be ignoring him, instead turning to grab a potato chip out of the open bag on her work station and popping one into her mouth. Each second that passed, his irritation only seemed to grow, Arthur's finger soon joining the movement of his foot as he simply stared at the woman. Eventually, he cleared his throat, the receptionist giving him an unninterested look.

"May I help you?" She asked, side eyeing him from her spot in her chair.

"I have an appointment."

The woman looked him up and down, squinting at him before rotating towards the screen and leaning over with an annoying creak of her chair. She skimmed over the names for a few seconds–which Arthur could have bet was not that long, before sighing.

"Waller?" 

"Arthur, yes. Arthur Waller." He confirmed with a nod, watching her face get a little sour.

"You're late."

"I'm aware. I had a flat tire." He didn’t. 

She stared momentarily, seemingly waiting for some kind of apology. When she didn't get one, however, she huffed. Her hand once again moved to grasp at one of the chips in the bag, the crackling of plastic making the man's already unpleasant temper worsen. She placed the thin, crunchy slice in her mouth, watching Arthur as she started chewing in a weirdly smug way. Can one even chew smugly? Had he not been provided with the living proof, he wouldn't have believed it.

"Everyone is on lunch break, sir. You're gonna have to reschedule." She dismissed nonchalantely, Arthur's mouth opening and closing a few times in bewilderement while his brows furrowed. 

"You're telling me Mr.Howard isn't here? He was supposed to show me around." Had he seriously driven here for nothing? 

"Oh, he's here; he's just unable to see you. Have a good day, sir."

"Now hold on–" He leaned over, chuckling nervously so as to at least somewhat appease the situation. In reality, he was fuming. "–can't you at least try to call him? I'm sure he'll understand." 

"He's eating, Mr.Waller." She seemed to be getting impatient, tapping her finger on the surface of her keyboard as if wishing his existence away. Her bag of chips now lay empty at her side. Good. 

"Please? At least ask–I'm sure he'd rather I show up late than not at all." 

With one final, defeated sigh, she pressed her finger on the intercom at her side. The device beeped and let out a small hum of static, the receptionist leaning into its speaker.

"Mr.Howard? Mr.Waller is here to see you." She said, nodding quietly at the response she received from the other end of the line, though visibly a little disappointed. She rolled her eyes, removing her finger from the button before looking at Arthur. "Follow me."

With a poorly conceiled smirk, Arthur nodded at the woman before trailing behind her, his eyes wandering to the walls and to the many framed pictures and articles hanging from them. As her steps echoed in the empty space around them, he made sure to trail over the few photos here and there that caught his attention. Newpapers recounting the restaurants success, two men shaking hands while looking proudly into the camera. Old photos of robotic animals, all varying in shapes and sizes as they seemingly performed on stage. A newer article resorting of the company's comeback into business. Arthur noted that there didn't appear to be anything mentionning the many tragic events he'd read about, briefly wondering why they would fail to aknowledge them. The wall seemed to be an awfully effectice memory album, so were they really that squeamish to aknowledge the bad? But then again, reminders of fires and murder allegations were not exactly considered prime working conditions nowadays.

They soon reached Mr.Howard's office, the desk woman knocking politely at the closed door, only for a quiet "come in!" to dismiss her. She sent Arthur one last distasteful look before walking back to her seat, the distant creak of her chair indication that he had been left alone. Arthur's nerves caught up to him, the young man taking a deep breath as encouragement before opening the door gently. The cold knob rotated under his grip, revealing Mr.Howard's office behind it. The light was shining through a curtain curtainless window, illuminating the room and casting down on most of the furniture. Mr.Howard sat at his desk, his fork stabbing at a few stray leaves of salad while he waved the young man inside.

"Come on in, Mr.Waller. Here–" He leaned over his desk, tapping gently at the chair adjacent to his own with a welcoming smile, "–you can take a seat right here."

Arthur complied, walking over to the seat with a little drag to his step. The rows of shelves lining the walls of the otherwise well lit room somehow made him feel a little more nervous than he'd thought he would be. They felt quite ominous, leaning over him like a council waiting to put him on trial and serve to him his fate. 

Ah, who was he kidding? Just from Mr.Howard's demeanor he could tell this would be a breeze. Impress the man, get the job, go home. Nothing more, nothing less.

The man pushed his salad aside, its plastic container scratching against the old, polished wood of his desk. He seemed to still be chewing, making a small motion of his hand to tell Arthur to wait for him to finish his bite before they could start speaking. Arthur nodded with a grimace, the sound of chewing particularly bothering him. It wasn't that he didn't like Mr.Howard–that was still to be debated. No. He just despised those sort of sounds. Chewing. Sniffing. Sneezing. It grossed him out to no end and served to properly irritate and anger him whenever they would occur in his proximity. In short, he hated the sound of people. And it wasn't like he could tell anyone about it, anyways. He'd tried and gotten the glares and confused looks he'd expected to get, only to be told to man up and stop being a baby. Always made him look like a jerk; but then again, he kinda was regardless. It wasn't for nothing that he always seemed to be wearing some form of headphones on him, whether it be a sneaky pair of earbuds or his favorite pair of stocky, red and black headphones. But then when those were in the picture, he was suddenly being disrespectful. He would never understand it.

Once the man was done and had swallowed, he started his customary introduction.

"So, you're Arthur, right?" Arthur nodded. "Great! Glad to know you could make it, albeit a little later. No worries, though! I'm Mr.Howard and I am the general manager overseeing this whole thing." He extended his hand, waiting for Arthur to grab it. Slowly, he did, the man smiling in approval at him. His grip was strong, so Arthur decided to try and squeeze back as best as he could, despite him having the muscle mass as weak as that of a sparrow. The man seemed amused by his attempt, Arthur having to hold back the urge to tell him what for. What was it with employers and the grip thing, anyways? What, you crush your employee's hand get surprised when they wince? Completely idiotic.

"Nice to meet you, sir. It's an honor to be here to help with this project."

"Speaking of which," he butted in, "it might be best to go over what it entails before I give you a proper tour of the place." When Arthur nodded, Mr.Howard continued. "Whole project is a way for us to get back in the market; raise some money and get some attention while we raise money for a proper location. Gonna be a big thing, but we need to actually make the game first. And that's where you come in! We've been looking for a game designer to complete our team and you're the perfect fit."

"Don't you want someone with experience, though?" Arthur asked, skeptical. "I'm still in college. Wouldn't it be better if you got someone with a degree?"

"You're two years into your major, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then that's good enough for me. Can't be all that hard, eh? Besides, it doesn't have to be perfect. Just enough to distract from the bad stuff."

"You mean the murders?" Arthur questionned, watching at Mr.Howard sighed through his nostrils before frowning to himself. He looked terribly disappointed, like a dad who's child had just brought home a bad grade. Shit.

"Don't let anybody else hear you bring that up, kid. Big taboo subject here. I advise you not to go poking around too much at stuff that could get you in trouble."

"Why would that get my in trouble?"

"Best you don't know, Mr.Waller. Just be thankful not to have been dismissed on the spot; we take company defamation very seriously here." Defamation? What the hell did he mean by that? Since when were questions considered an attempt at defamation? In the blink of am eye, the otherwise friendly man in front of him had seemed to lose his cheerfulness. It had felt ominous. The manager stood up and out of his chair, his tall frame towering over Arthur as he sidestepped his way away from his desk. "Come, I'll give you a quick look around."

Without a word, Arthur stood to follow the man, a little nervous but also very, very pissed. What kind of an interview was this? The internship wasn't even paid, yet somehow he was expected to just not ask any questions? 

He was gonna get to the bottom of this.

The two made their way through the office, exiting the halls and reaching one of the main lounges. They were empty save for a few employees that had remained, all partaking in quiet conversations as they ate their respective lunches. Mr.Howard, however, didn’t seem to want to stop and introduce anyone; instead, it seemed the man was making a beeline for a door on the side of the room which Arthur would have missed had he not been scrutinizing every little inch of the area for anything out of place. The boy decided not to argue–it wasn't like he was particularly wanting to talk to strangers anyways. His friend count was at a nice and even zero and he was intending on keeping his perfect streak going. Wordlessly, he trailed after the manager, the man's cheerful grin having been plastered back on his face while he held the door open. He noticed, on the wall at its side, the small metal plate spelling Game Design Department looking dull in comparison to the rest of the shiny appearance of the studio. Looking at the room behind it, it was about as tasteless as its label. Arthur frowned when he was met with one single desk, one that looked like it was already in use judging by the picture frames propped on it.

"Uhm...is that my...?"

"Oh? Oh no, that's just Scott's desk. He's the guy that we hired to lead the coding and development. Only other guy in your department." Mr.Howard turned to the desk, walking over to it before seemingly rummaging through a few files. From the way he seemed to be picking one up and then picking another, Arthur questionned whether or not those papers were even his. "He's got a lot of game experience; he's the guy that made a bunch of horror themed stuff about the company. You can imagine how that lawsuit almost went through! But hey, without his help we wouldn't have been able to find those bad boys." 

Arthur looked at where Mr.Howard was seemingly motioning, looking puzzled at a strange electrical circuit board sitting on the desk. By its look, it seemed to be old. Very old. It looked similar to those of older robots, the first few attempts of the common man to make their own life without the help of experts or the government. Arthur had had the chance to study some of them when learning about robotics in some of his earlier coding classes. Robotics of the past, the subject had been. Circuits had been simple enough back then, but the complexity of the one before him baffled Arthur. Despite its bumps and scratches, it looked so meticulous in its placement. It was like someone had used pliers to assemble every little piece that composed it down to the minute detail. It had been made skilfully and with passion. It looked burn, however, its greyish-brown color tarnished by stripes of black soot.

"What is that thing?"

"That is a memory board, or at least according to Scott it is. No clue, really; I think it kinda looks like one of those extra storage stuff you can get in stores, but I digress. It's really old, but apparently it could be holding some of the code of an original bot. Found it in the wreckage of an old location a while back. No clue which one it is yet, we haven't had the chance to actually go in and assess it." Arthur leaned forward, looking closely at the object again. Despite the few scorch marks, it appeared to be mostly intact. Why would they delay it if it wasn't in need of repair?

"May I ask why you're not doing it now? Waste of time to wait around in my opinion."

Mr.Howard didn't like that, frowning at him irritably before rolling his eyes.

"Scott wants to scan it for any malware; but I think it's a silly excuse. That code is older than I am, I really don't see how anything could've infected it. Just him being lazy, I guess."

"I guess... though I do understand his concerns. But how would that thing even help?"

"If we manage to extract some of that code, then we should be able to make the game really accurate to the real thing! It could be a huge boost to our marketing strategy!"

"If you say so." Arthur grabbed at the office chair's handles before properly plopping himself into the seat, giving it a few test rotations. The computer Scott was working on, although not outright bad, was definitely in need of a boost. Perhaps, when he installed his stuff in the office, he could outshine the guy with his laptop?

But wait.

Where was he even supposed to put his stuff?

The room around him, however bland, looked as if someone had boxed up a tornado and let it free range for a week. Papers littered the floor, scrapped ideas filling the garbage to the top. He turned to Mr.Howard, confused.

"So, where do I work?"

"Surely you can share, shouldn't be that difficult! Scott isn't here half the time so I'm sure you'll make plenty of use of his computer. Will make it easier to keep all the files together, and then the game will be ready in no time!"

Arthur gaped, the next few seconds only filled with the whirring of a fan and the faraway honking of cars.

"...I'm sorry, what?"

"Is there a problem?" 

"Is there a problem–are you fucking kidding me?" Arthur's voice raised, the boy glaring up and standing from the chair to face him. Mr.Howard looked unimpressed at his outburst, his fake smile once again fading. 

"Keep your voice down, Mr.Waller. This is a professional environnement. We are on a tight budget and we can't accommodate for everyone–"

The boy continued his rant without a care in the world. To hell with this internship, what kind of a position was this supposed to be? Why the hell was Scott still here? He didn't even know the guy and yet still held the urge to shake some sense into him to run as far away as he could. 

"You expect me to work in this mess and with someone's else's shitty computer to code an entire fucking game? And what, just so you can sit back in the lounge and do whatever the hell you guys like to do other than help the one guy doing any important work here? Do you have brain dammage? Do you not have any idea how impossible that is? I don't care what kind of budget you are on!"

The manager frowned deeply, taking a few steps towards Arthur in an attempt to shut him up. It didn’t work, however, as he only seemed to get angrier.

"I suggest you keep your language under control, sir." 

"Oh fuck off, will you?! And while I'm at it, what's with the weird defensiveness about the murders? What, got something to hide? Can't even be transparent with your own employees? Haven't even worked one shift and I can smell the bullshit from here." 

"Mr.Waller, I'm losing my patience! I would advise you stop now if you don't want to say anything you'll regret."

"Regret what, exactly?"

They remained at a standstill, Mr.Howard staring daggers at Arthur as he panted. This particular shouting match had luckily been shorter than the ones Arthur usually partook in, though he was glad to know it had still gotten under the man's skin. He was good at it, he always had been. Pressing buttons, making their anger rise. If there was one thing in this world Arthur Waller was best at other than game design, it would be petty arguments. What a douchebag that man was. So eager to undermind that poor Scott guy. He hoped with all his might that he'd get fired over this.

"Leave this building, Mr.Waller. You are no longer welcome here." 

"With pleasure."

The drive back had been a little calmer, the nerves and overall atmosphere having cooled down as soon as he'd stomped his way out of the studio. He'd made sure to flip the bird to the woman at the desk on his way out, the receptionist returning the favor wordlessly. He'd taken to the road with a bitter taste in his mouth, white-knuckling the wheel while his car trailed through the vast Utah landscapes. His light blond hair shone under the few rays of sun breaching through his car, rendering them shiny. He had barely bid goodbye to Hurricane, uncaring for the bland houses and the fake smiles plastered on secretly unhappy families.

All bland.

All boring.

He was still more than a little disappointed at having to kiss his experience goodbye, however, tapping the wheel angrily at his own temper. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad? Maybe the Scott man would've been okay company? Maybe he eventually wouldn't have had the overwhelming urge to rip Mr.Howard's face off with his bare hands? Right. Sure he would've. 

He'd done the walk of shame back to his apartment, dragging his feet walking up the stairs and glaring at the floor as if it had insulted him personally. 

The door to his apartment had been slammed open, Arthur promptly ignoring the muffled shouts of his neighbor for him to keep it down. He was too used to it, anyways. He'd walked into his room, the dark lighting only lit by a few dim LED lights that had been taped to the sides, bathing the room in a soft series of color everchanging colors. Boxes of empty ramen lay finished at the foot of his bed, piling up on each other. It had turned into quite the fit of architecture overtime, Arthur often wondering how the whole thing was still standing upright. He'd walked over to his desk, his computer screen blank and casting a soft blue light down on his keyboard. Meanwhile, the LEDs shifted from orange to yellow. 

Arthur removed his headphones from around his neck, setting them down on the desk with a sigh. He momentarily looked for the charging cable, quickly plugging it into his computer and ensuring it would light up to indicate its charging process had started. The LEDs shifted from yellow to green. 

He looked down at himself, his hand reaching into his pocket and digging into it to reach out for an object. His fingers wrapped delicately around the tiny rectangular object, pulling out the circuit board and holding it up to his eye level. One little argument and it had been a breeze to swipe the thing, really it was laughable. Ridiculous. Mr.Howard getting fired was starting to sound like more of a reality, prompting Arthur to chuckle at his own wit. Really he had no clue what to even do with it; all he knew was that he certainly didn't want that Howard asshole to use it. He knew Scott-man would likely struggle his ass off to make the game without it, but then again it was probably on him for even staying in this shitty job in the first place. Sucks to suck, Scotty.

Maybe he could sell it? Put it on Ebay or something. Surely some collector nuthead would take the bait and give him millions for that little square of scrambled wires. He doubted it even worked, if he was being honest with himself. He'd have to go through it since those idiots clearly didn't have the brainpower to do so.

He put the board down next to his headphones.

The LEDs shifted from green to blue. 

Arthur walked over to his unmade bed, letting his weight plummet amidst the thick covers before groaning into his pillow. Another stupid opportunity lost. He's lost it again. Of course, that dickhead had deserved every second of it, but it didn't make it any less bitter. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall in the cruel clutches of sleep.

The LEDs shifted from blue to purple.

Chapter Text

The next day hadn’t been all that exciting, as it usually would be on those sort of days. He'd been lucky his had professor called off last minute again, leaving him with virtually nothing to do. And what had Arthur been doing with that precious time? Had he, perhaps, found a new job other than the crappy one he was stuck with and gotten his life together? Of course not. He'd gotten up, made himself a fresh cup of ramen and had sat down and done a whole lot of nothing. Scrolling through his scratched up phone with the occasional sigh or snort at the memes he'd come across, Arthur had been mostly relaxing in his kitchen. The slightly teared green wallpaper surrounding him reflected poorly with the white lightbulb buzzing and flicking on the ceiling, rendering the room he was in to be slightly darker than one would likely want it. Arthur didn't mind, however, instead choosing to balance himself on his chair in a feeble attempt at entertainment. 

He could always go out, but then again the campus a few minutes from his place was not particularly exciting. He'd been glad that his parents had chosen to pay for an apartment for him after his year of on-campus living. It had been unbearable to live through and he was certainly thankful to be on his own rather than cooped up with a gaggle of loud young adults.

Claiming Arthur had no work to be done would be a lie, however, as despite the lack of classes he indeed still had yet to complete one of his assignments. It wasn't much to worry about, a simple model practice that had involved a lot of sculpting and a tiring amount of rigging. He'd stayed up most of the night two days ago to finish it and had yet to submit the finished product despite it only needing a few touch ups. 

Unfortunately, it was due tonight.

Arthur sighed as he scraped the bottom of the ramen cup with his fork, his finger tapping on its side with quiet thumps while he mentally kicked himself to just get up and get it over with already. Seriously, how hard could it be? Just walk over to the damn computer, sit down and add the finishing touches and then transfer it to his phone for submission. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right? After all, his computer had been determined to refuse the program his school was using and had tantrumed its way into relaying assignement submission duties to the small, beaten square device at Arthur's side. It really was very hard to work, apparently, as he'd been sitting on his chair for an estimated hour and a half. 

He likely would've stayed that way had it not been for the buzzing of his phone at his side, Arthur jumping in surprise before looking down at the now lit screen. He noticed the name plastered on the surface, MOM and her set profile picture taunting him while the device vibrated on the table. Now of all times? Seriously? What kind of person calls their child when they are supposed to be in class? Not that he was, of course, but still. 

Although he was seriously tempted to let it ring away until it tired itself out like a toddler, Arthur sighed and picked up the phone, pressing the green button and quickly setting it on speaker.

"Why are you answering your phone in class?" Came the voice of a middle-aged woman over the phone, her tone of irritation masked by the familiar motherly concern that always came hand-in-hand with her.

Arthur had to physically hold back his groan, instead leaning against his chair and letting a hand drag against his face.

"Good morning, mom." He said, his voice strained and his mind already looking forward to pressing the end call button. "Class got cancelled, I'm home. Also, aren't you the one that called?"

"I was making sure you wouldn't get distracted." The woman seemingly shuffled from behind the line, the sound of clothes shifting almost drowning out her quiet voice. Despite the sweetness in her tone, he could almost feel the small pout she usually bore bleeding through her voice. If there was something his mother hated more than anything it was being questionned.

"Hm," he hummed nonchalantely, rocking back and forth on his chair while balancing himself with his free hand on the table. Really he often fell backwards doing this kind of thing, but he couldn't find it in himself to really care. The only witness to Arthur's embrassing falls would be himself and that was not enough to discourage him. "well now that you're sure, can I hang up—"

"You did turn in all your assignments, though? You shouldn't be slacking off if you still have work, honey."

"Sure," he said, carefully getting up from his chair and tiptoeing away from the kitchen. Despite the mostly disorganized state of his apartment, Arthur had managed to map each individual obstacle in his mind, hopping over the occasional stray notebook with little difficulty. One had to adapt to their own messiness and Arthur prided himself in having mastered that skill. "I've got everything handled."

"Are you sure? I know it's tempting to to skip the school stuff and directly jump to the parties but it's not what we're paying for. Your education comes first."

Entering his room, he hurried towards the computer, sitting in his revolving chair and wincing at the light squeak it let out before shaking his computer mouse awake. He huffed at the slow start of the screen, clicking frantically at the password bar before moving his fingers across the keyboard. With deliberate, quick movements, Arthur started to type, making sure to keep the phone conversation going.

"Yup, certain–uh...yeah, I'm sure. No parties for me."  At least it wasn't a lie this time; Arthur had always hated the loud frat parties that seemingly came hand-in-hand with college life. It wasn't like he hadn’t tried to fit in with his peers during his first year. The fake smiles and forced conversations had worn him out so quick he'd never stayed for more than an hour and had eventually given up on attempting to socialize, retreating in the safety of his then dorm and now his apartment. Getting off the campus had been his best decision yet, giving him the solitude he so craved along with the freedom to do what he pleased within the confines of his own home.

"Aw, well I'm glad to hear that honey. How has school been otherwise? Made any friends?" She definitely sounded more cheerful, at least, but the question was certainly a little irritating. Did she want him to make friends or focus on classes? When was that woman going to make up her mind? Not that he had friends, of course; he had tried and failed at that particular goal as soon as he'd arrived and sworn it off since.

"Nope, uh...yeah, no. Haven't done that. Not gonna do it."

Having finally signed into his computer, Arthur swiftly moved his mouse to his blender file and dragging it to his editing program. A new window popped open, Arthur leaning towards the computer and squinting at the object on-screen. He'd opted for a simple sculpted stick figure, its faceless appearance surprisingly disturbing considering he'd tried his best to make it appear at least somewhat cute. Maybe the head was too big? Or perhaps the limbs should've been been downsized a bit? Whatever the case, his project was–if he was being honest with himself, a steaming pile of shit. He was just glad that his professor had decided not to grade on artistic performance and instead on quality of rigging, as he'd certainly outdone himself in that front. The fingers he'd carved into the digital blob of matter now all moved independently, the body capable of many intricate movements with little difficulty of puppeteering. 

"Oh but you should! College is the best time of your life, hun. How about dates? Any luck?" 

There was still one finishing touch to add to his hypothetical masterpiece, Arthur grabbing at his computer mouse before letting the cursor hover over the carving tool. Once selected, he carefully pressed on the left key before dragging it along the small figure's face. It looked as though a small child had been given play doh and was now disfiguring some poor creature of his own creation. Really Arthur wasn't bad at art–in fact, he was quite good at it. It wasn't for nothing he'd majored in Game Design rather than coding or robotics like more aspiring developpers had. Really his only problem was the modelling–which was a problem, seeing as it was the thing games nowadays needed the most. What kind of game has no 3d assets? He simply needed to learn.

"Nope, none of that either." he answered his mother, leaning back into his chair and admiring his work with a smile. The sickly figure onscreen now bore a crudely drawn smile that reminded Arthur of a kid's kindergarden drawing. Not perfect, but at least it was done and ready to be subjected to the judgement of his teacher. 

"Oh well, so long as you're happy..." The woman on the end of the line mumbled, audibly a little disappointed. Good, Arthur all but had to physically hold back the eye roll that almost have issued from her tone.

"Yeah, yeah. Happy–sure thing." He answered distractedly, clicking away and his screen as he started exporting the file of the model with an impatient tap of his finger against the computer mouse. While the file processed, the young man picked up his phone from its spot beside him on the desk, holding the little device up to his head while relaxing in his chair. The conversation went on with lazy, unentertained back and forth, Arthur nodding along to his mother's rambling as she talked about all the things he'd missed back home. It was the unconscequencial stuff, really, like the news of a neighbor's passing or a family's arrival that she didn't like. It wasn't like he was even intending on returning to the middle of nowhere where he'd grown up; that ship had sailed the moment he'd crossed state borders and landed himself in good ol' Utah.

"Anyways honey, I'm gonna have to hang up and make dinner. Will you be alright?"

"...Yeah, I'll be fine mom. Bye."

Unceremoniously, the call ended. Arthur let out a sigh of relief as he leaned onto his desk and watched his project finish exporting. It wasn't that he hated his mom persay–he just couldn't stand talking to her. Or being near her. Or thinking about her.

He gave his chair a little spin, blowing air out through his lips as boredom seeped back through his mind. The file had finished exporting, Arthur lazily patting at the desk besides him for his phone charger. Once his hand made contact with the tiny plastic square, he tugged at the wire that merged into it and unplugged the USB connection before promptly inserting it into his computer's port. Now that the file was ready to go, all he had to do was to transfer it on his cell phone.

His hand grabbed at the tiny device, his other one fumbling for the cable with the intent to connect the two machines as he usually did. It seemed, however, that his mother had not finished tormenting him, as once again her name popped up on the screen as his phone quickly started to vibrated. Arthur jumped in surprise, his grip slacking before his phone came tumbling down and onto the floor. 

"Shit!" He cursed out, bending down to assess the damage. Although the screen was thankfully intact, the blunt force had seemingly back of his phone clean off, revealing the intricate composition of tangling wires inside.

"Goddamit, mom." He grumbled. It certainly wasn't the first time it had happened, his phone having effectively been through hell and back, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant sight. He picked it up carefully, making sure to support the bottom before placing it upon the desk with a concerned frown; almost like one of a doctor looking over his sick, innocent patient. Except, instead of a patient sat a two year old phone that looked about ready to fall apart any second. His hand came to press down on the detached protective covering, attempting to push it back down into place, but to no avail.

Arthur groaned, grabbing the cable at his side before angrily shoving it into the luckily intact port. Nevermind the potentially broken phone, he could always pester his parents about it later–right now, he needed to submit this project and he needed to do it quick.

Once his phone was properly attached, Arthur moved the cursor on-screen towards the file icon, browsing through the many projects he'd previously come to finish before landing on the one he was looking for. It was a simple endeavor, really: drag the file over to his phone's storage and that's that. Or at least it would've been had it not been for a detail that stopped him in his track.

INSUFFICIENT STORAGE

Arthur stared at the message with wide eyes, his eyebrows furrowing while his he shook his head in disbelief. Seriously? He could've sworn he'd cleared space not too long ago. Had he really downloaded that much? Maybe the file was just that big? He'd been so careful not to go beyond the limit. There was little to nothing left for him to delete other than a few apps he was not about to give up for a fucking school project. He could always go and buy an extra hard drive? The closest Best-Buy was maybe a good thirty minute walk from his place though, and Andy was certainly not about to get up and make that trip when he'd been so committed to do absolutely nothing today. What was he to do other than stare and wallow in misery at his shitty computer's screen? His eyes wandered, climbing along the walls and crawling on the floor of his room as if searching for a some miracle solution. Perhaps he still had some for of external storage? Maybe he should email his teacher. 

Finally, his eyes landed on the solution in question.

The small, abandonned chip lay on his computer innocently, metallic parts shining under the glow of LEDS that shone softly in his room. It obviously hadn't moved from its spot he'd left it in yesterday, having been mostly forgotten in favor of sleep and ordinary distractions. A 'memory board', the nitwit of a manager had called it. He wasn't sure what had prompted it the name other than its alleged use to store robotic coding.

To store. 

The idea sounded ridiculous the instant it popped into his head, like a madman's project had been transferred by error into his brain and forcibly pushed its way into thought. There was virtually nothing that could guarantee the safety of his devices, as Mr.Howard himself had admitted the object had not been properly inspected as it should be. But then again, robot codes were big–having that kind of storage could be a deal-breaker. It was a silly idea. A completely mad train of thought that would have likely made him chuckle on any normal day. Who was to say what was on that thing? The Scott weirdo had said himself that he couldn't guarantee an absence of malware—but why would it be of concern with such an old piece of hardware? Would it even be compatible with his phone? Maybe he really should take the L and make a run to Best-Buy.

Arthur picked up the chip.

Installing it had been surprisingly easy, the board itself fitting quite nicely over the other pieces of electronics that composed his phone's insides. It looked almost like a blanket of sorts, laying casually over the rest like a protective shield. Attaching it to the network had only requires a few bent wires and an annoying amount of adjusting until he felt it was enough to allow his phone free range of what he assumed would be loads of new space. 

Once he was satisfied with the look, Arthur closed the phone and carefully clipped its shell back on, looking down at his work with a small smirk of self satisfied pride. What the hell was he thinking going to Best-Buy—this was stupidly simple. 

He picked up his phone and gave the device a quick tap, half expecting to have completely ruined the thing before grinning when his screen lit up to show the Missed Call (Mom) notification. At least the device was still working, but was the storage any better?

Clicking on the file, he once again dragged it towards what appeared on the screen as his phone's internal storage. He navigated through it, looking for a particular section before promptly depositing his project into what he'd cleverly dubbed the College Bs file. As the transfer loaded, Arthur crossed his fingers before giving a chair spin of victory when the file was successfully transfered over to his more promising device. He was officially a goddamn genius. 

The submission had been quick and easy, longing onto his school account and quickly selecting the inhumanely large file to be subjected to his teacher's judgement. He wondered briefly if he would even be able to open the damn thing and quickly realized that it wasn't his problem. If he had any complaint he could always get his own criptic piece of abandonned hardware and plug it into his computer.

Bidding his monstruosity of a 3d model goodbye, Arthur set his phone with a content smile, walking back into the kitchen to make himself some additional celebratory Ramen.

On his desk, his phone remained alone, still plunged into his pc and quietly charging.

Inside his phone, something new awakened.