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Chapter Text

A perfectly ordinary day of waking up to stare unseeingly into a cup of coffee ended with an unexpected, rather extraordinary event. 

Your roommates had already left the house for work, leaving you to force yourself into enough wakefulness to eat something and not go another breakfast with just coffee for sustenance. As you debated what to eat, a sliver of bright sunlight beamed directly into your face, forcing you to squint and turn your face away. 

Ugh.

Bright light, go away.

The sunlight did not move at your internal commands. 

A shame.

This meant that you would have to get up and tug the curtain in the living room close to eat in peace. Without being stabbed in your poor blurry eyes by vicious bright light making its way into your home unsolicited.

Squinting, you get up to shuffle over to the window, moving out of the way of the slowly growing patch of sunlight hitting the table and wall behind you. With a swift flick of a wrist, you closed the curtain. 

Ahh.

Sweet darkness. 

You felt better already.

Turning, you’re ready to the kitchen to scrounge for food, only for there to be a resounding crashing noise. You barely had time to stumble back in alarm right before a heavy thud sounded overhead; you could have sworn the whole house shook.

What in the hell had that been?

Drawing the curtain back open a touch (ugh, bright sunlight) there was no sign that indicated the neighbors’ houses across the street had been disturbed. Tugging the curtain shut with a grimace, you walked to the back of the house, casting a suspicious glance up the stairway and the sight of a small cloud of dust.  You continue to the sliding door that led to the fenced back yard; you peer out to survey either side to the next-door neighbors' yards. 

Nothing.

There was no activity whatsoever that whatever had (likely) crashed through the attic to make the second level of the house had disturbed anyone but yourself. 

Wonderful.

What could possibly have hit the house at such a force that it sounded like you and your roommates were going to be coughing up some cash to fix whatever happened? And to make it even better, sarcasm fully intended, the forecast called for rain later this week.  Which mean that the damage would have to be taken care of sooner rather than later. At most, you and your roommates would have to find out how much (and how long) the damage would take to fix.  It might even mean rigging up a tarp over the roof and attic ceiling in the meantime, while hoping any rain leading up to repairs.

…you were stalling.

Best to go see the scene of the crime where a heavy unknown object crashing through the roof and see the damage. 

Then you could get going before you were late to work.

Ahh.

The joys of one of your roommates owning this house; all of you were trying to figure out how to get things taken care of around the house after being thrust together into sharing it after said roommate inherited this place from a relative.

Later.

Think about it later.

Look first, worry about logistics later.

Heaving a sigh, you head for the staircase. The sight of the dust cloud looked like it was partway down the hall. Reaching the top of the stairs, with a hand resting on the banister, you look up.

There was a hole in the ceiling, just to the side of the door that could be used to lower a ladder to get into the attic. Because of course whatever had landed in through the roof couldn’t have damaged an easier to replace foldout ladder door…on second thought, maybe that would have been more damage.

Craning your head to the side, you peer through the hole and see that yup, the attic roof had a decent-sized hole in it.

Wonderful.

Just great.

The cause of the damage?

An innocuous-looking older box tv, somehow not smashed to hell after crashing through the roof and attic flooring, then down to the hallway floor, debris all around it. The tv, for whatever reason, had a little fedora on top of it that the antenna (the left one crooked) poked out of. The tv screen itself was shattered; the pieces of glass that remained appeared sharp and jagged.

Honestly?

The tv looked like it went through a tornado with how dirty it all was, debris clinging to it. There was even something leaking from somewhere within the broken screen, sluggishly dripping onto the floor beneath it. The name ‘puzzlevision’ was just beneath the broken glass of the screen.

You’d never heard of that brand before.

But in any case...

What a mess.

Stooping to carefully heft the tv up into your arms (weird, it wasn't as heavy as it looked like it should be), you awkwardly carry it over to the nearby table in the hall up against the wall.  Conveniently, it happened to have a bath towel tossed over it. With a whoosh of breath, you set the broken tv down onto the towel, and, grumbling, set about cleaning up the mess that covered most of the hallway.

What felt like hours turned out to be about 15 minutes for a decent cleanup.

You couldn’t linger for much longer, since you had to leave for work soon. But this meant you didn’t have time to go up in the attic to survey the damage to ceiling and roof of the house. You’ll just have to cross your fingers and hope it would be fine until you came back home.  With your phone back on the dining room table, you'd have to remember to send a group text to your roommates to let them know about the incident.

One last thing, before you went back downstairs.

Turning to face the broken tv, you decide in the moment to put the damn thing into your bedroom. To try and contain the mess with the likely wrong assumption that the tv could pitch forward and crash onto the floor to make more to clean up later. Using the towel to avoid touching broken glass or any other sharp debris (if you hadn’t already), you pick the tv back up.  Awkwardly carry the tv along the rest of the way down the hall to your bedroom. With a shove of your foot, you open the door and shuffle over to the closet.  Leaning the tv into the crook of an elbow, you use your free hand to partially tug the closet door open.  Getting that hand back under the tv for support, you crouch slowly, carefully, to set old tube tv just inside your closet, on an open space of the floor, towel still beneath it. Sighing, and muttering mutinously to the inanimate object about causing property damage, you slide the closet door panel to align with the other one to close it.

There.

Dealt with for now.

You’d have tossed it out, but you wondered if there might be some parts of the tv’s insides that could be salvaged, or, if there wasn’t too much damage, fixed and sold online (or dropped off at thrift store). 

With a groan over a few tiny cuts you'd accumulated on your hands, you wash them in the upstairs bathroom sink (and hope there weren’t microscopic pieces of glass).  Trudging down the sitars back to the dining room table, you were much more awake.  Scrounging something out of the kitchen to eat, and finishing your coffee after reheating it, you were ready to go, and relieved you'd already been dressed for the day. 

After locking up the house, you were off.

The cafe was thankfully slow that day, but you'd still managed to get there a few minutes before opening. The extra time gave you the moment to send out a group chat to your roommates, to let them know what happened that morning. And once lunchtime rolled around, you heard back from your roommates, unsurprised by both of them expressing exasperation over the odds of something crashing into the house. And since one of the roommates owned the home via inheritance, all three of you would discuss how one was supposed to go about fixing the damage at dinner that evening.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened at your shift that day. 

There was nothing to indicated that something would happen later on that would change things up in your life, for better or worse.

The first inkling of something not quite right was when you’d returned to the house.  You got back before your roommates, since the cafe closed earlier on Mondays. The house, once you’d entered and flipped the lights seemed…dimmer in some way. The bulbs didn't seem to be as bright as they were that morning. Maybe you just hadn’t noticed, what with your eyes being blurry upon waking up.

The second sign was a thumping noise from upstairs, but you didn't hear it as you'd just begun to go up the steps at the same time. If you’d heard it, maybe the next week or so would have gone much differently.

Inwardly groaning over the dusty bits of debris yet to be swept up and vacuumed in the hallway, you stepped around the pile to avoid trekking it everywhere.

Hopefully.

You'd not noticed if you’d brought any of the mess downstairs earlier.

Entering your bedroom, you cross over to the closet, thinking that you should have just brought the broken tv downstairs.

Oh well.

You’d take care of that now, before your roommates returned. 

Decision made, you slide the closet door open, but as half of it folded back to allow for space to crouch down and pick the tv up with that towel, you see something. You are able to acknowledge what you see, but your mind struggled to comprehend it as you freeze in place. 

There was a man in your closet.

Why was there a man in your closet?

There should not be a man in there.

Or anywhere in the house, really, since this wasn't one of your roommates.

You know for certain the doors and windows were locked, and you’d locked the front door before leaving the house that morning. And your roommates hadn’t mentioned expecting any visitors.

You stare into the closet.

The man in the closet stared back, before slowly raising a hand to offer a little wave.

Why did this man have an old tube tv over his head? A tv that looked suspiciously like the old tv that had crashed into the house, the screen displaying a partial test color card that appeared as a smile, or rather, a frown, circles above for eyes small.

Had you mentioned there was a whole man in your closet?

A man who wore a white dress shirt and gray button-up vest with a black bow tie, and suspenders attached to pants covered in a puzzle design.  The man watched you while cowering in your closet, his lanky body pressed into the back of the closet, tv tilted up for the screen to face. 

While you watched, the man with a tv for a head drew his legs up while pressing his dress shoes into the floor, as if he could back away further than you.  Arms went around his legs below the knees, tv shifting to the side a touch as the expression on the broken screen shifted.

Your mind caught up, making as if to slam the door shut.

The man decided to stop cowering. He moved freakishly fast, outstretched hand seizing your nearest upper arm, as if he held an inkling of what you were about to do. 

“D-don’t-“ The speaker on the tv seemed to make the voice muffled, almost pained.

You lean back, but the lanky man’s hand remained firmly wrapped around your upper arm (three fingers and a thumb, what in the world).

The broken screen face looked at you, while you returned the gaze with mounting panic.

When the man sounded like he was going to speak again, or perhaps tug you toward him, from the twitch his hand made, your mind came back online.

Fight or flight kicked in.

However, since the tv headed man was holding your arm to prevent escape, your brain pushed you to abruptly swing your free arm, fist clenched as you let out a scream of alarm with a hint of fear.

Fortunately, it appeared the man hadn’t expected this reaction. He seemed frozen in place, actually, while the expression on his screen face shifted to one that nearly mirrored your own as your fist made a beeline for his broken screen of a face.

Unfortunately, your fist glanced off the broken pieces of glass around the edge of the tv screen, sending sharp, burning pain through your knuckles, back of your wrist, and then forearm when you stupidly yank the arm backward in a pained recoil.

Several things happen in rapid succession.

The front door opened, signaling the return of one or both your roommates.

The man in your closet groaned something out, only to give the arm in his grasp a sharp tug.

Unbalanced, you pitch forward and fall right onto the tv headed man.

Dazed, you only barely note that he'd let go of your uninjured arm as he scooted backward with you sprawled against one side of his oddly wide set of shoulders and almost triangle-shaped chest to waist. So up close with your head hanging down, you notice how ridiculously narrow said waist is.

Your roommates call out greetings, no doubt noticing that you'd brought in the mail.

Closet man mumbled overhead with a muffled, static noise.

You damn near jump straight in the air as an arm looped around your back, tugging you closer against the man as the closet door was apparently, inexplicably, closed with one of the man's dress shoes.

There was a strange whining pitch of static and clicking sounds like the man was fiddling with one of the dials on the tv as the muttering grew quieter. 

You crane your head to the side to glare up at the unsolicited touch, only to twitch at the sight of the rather calculating look the tv man was giving you.

"I think you'll agree that this isn't the most flattering of greetings, so how about we fix that?"  The man paused, looking momentarily confused, before a patronizing smile of color rose.   "It seems that will have to charge up for a moment."

"Let go."  You shot back, none too subtly trying to break to rather strong grip Mr. closet man had on you.

"...no." The expression shifted from calculating to amused.

"How did you even get into my closet?" You demanded, doing your best to not think about the aching, slowly growing agony of your injured arm.

"You put me in-" The man's digital eyes blink, and the expression shifted again to a frown as the tv tilted to allow the screen to inspect you.  "Did you hurt yourself on the broken glass of my face?"

"When I punched you? Yes!"

"That won't do. That shouldn't have happened at all." The man's multi-colored frown deepened.  "Your hand should have just phased through or not touched the glass at all."

"Punching usually means something gets hit."  You responded, before shoving at the man's arm with your non-wounded one.  "I told you to let go."

"No."  Petulant this time. Then, in an upbeat tone, as if some unseen thing had changed.  "Let me try something."

You didn't want this random man, who was somehow in your closet and wearing a tv over his head, to try anything while you were within his vicinity.

The extraordinary event of the day happened then, coming in first over the sight of a man appearing in your closet, as the man finished turning the dials on the tv once more.

"There we go!"  The man said, voice full of cheer.  "Let's get that arm of yours fixed up."

When you turned you head again, the moment you see the suddenly static-filled screen, everything just stopped.

You'd later learn that your roommates had been beside themselves with worry when they couldn't find you, both immensely relieved when you reappeared the following evening.  Your two roommates' concern (and the missed day of work) was entirely the fault of the man that had been in your closet, who would, earlier on in the day, introduce himself to you as Mr. Puzzles.

Chapter Text

The shift between the real world and the one in my mind was a dizzying experience.  More so this time around, no doubt due to my handsome face being pummeled one too many times, and in such as short amount of time too, I must add.

There is also the added factor of bringing someone directly along with me, rather than when I was already within the dimension myself.

It added more strain on myself.

Quite a doozy of a transfer this time around! And p ainfully so, as I nearly tripped over my feet upon arrival.  Which was rather funny, since there was no gravity here. But the potential 'falling over' may have taken the unconscious person out of my arms.  While it wouldn't necessarily hurt, it wasn't precisely good to float aimlessly about in this in-between space that was all my own.

Ah yes.

You.

Tilting my head down, I checked your arm briefly. A frown flashing across my face as I heaved a dramatic sigh; this single facsimile of an exhale held all the exasperation I could manage in the moment.

How in the world had you managed to harm yourself on the pieces of glass that remained at the edges of my face? How had you accomplished that? What did you do to make the rules shift or alter? Being injured the way you’d been...this wasn’t a normal outcome to such actions at all!  Most of the time, anyhow.

It didn’t make a whit of sense to me.

Even that pesky plumber and orange-haired girl’s hands recovered from broken fingers when they punched me in my handsome face.

So then why?

Why had the back of your hand and arm been dealt such terrible damage, enough to make you bleed? Unlike my most recent acquisition of actors for my shows, who didn’t have that happen to them no matter what I sent their way.  I wasn't intending for them to be permanently hurt; why waste talent by making them take unhealable damage they couldn't hop back from one moment to the next?

Ohh-

Thinking of the not so recent past made the indignity and humiliation sting.

Really, what was it with everyone taking a swing at my face? The pain I’d experienced lingered even now, from where my face had been walloped that final time, launched into the air to send me flying off to…wherever it was I’d been sent, and down into that house.

…my head hurt terribly.

It was actually rather difficult to formulate my thoughts.

Very lucky for me that I’d knocked you out before you could do any further damage to me. With the way I’d gotten my hands on you, you hadn't been able to throw another spectacularly thrown, if sloppy, punch to my face.

I could only imagine why you reacted this way.

Surely it wasn’t because you’d seen the rest of my body and not just my head. That shouldn’t have been much of a surprise, though I was, of course, flattered if I was your first interaction with someone with an object for their head. What place did you live in where this and other absurdities of the general public weren’t normal?

No.

Not right now.

No wandering thoughts right now!

Focus.

My hand pressed into your forearm to firmly hold the fabric of your shirt to the injuries sustained by punching me in the face.

A discomforted groan rose from you.

I tilted my head to the side to observe the way you turn over on my arms. The way you pressed your face into my chest, sighing as you sagged back down, snoring softly.

The blood was soaking through my glove.

Why was there so much blood?

Why was I allowing the two of us, my sleeping guest and I, to float here?

There was no time for distractions!

Onward, to the hospital!

Conveniently, I had already let my intentions be known to the staff at the hospital that I would arrive shortly the moment I’d appeared in this dimension.

Which should have been a minute ago.

If they weren’t ready to receive you at the hospital to be treated for your wounds, well…

My face’s expression twitched into a strained one.

I’d just have to remind the staff within the hospital just who was really in charge here.

Turning, I plastered on an insincere multi-colored smile as I made my way swiftly over to the correct tv that was floating within this dimension.  With ease, I passed through the screen with you, and stepped out to lightly touch down just outside the front doors of a hospital; a place where I would see to it that my puppets, who had long ago accepted their place in this world of mine, treated your injuries appropriately. Striding forward with a confidence that was slow to return, I forewent the doors to kick a large hole into the wall alongside it.

Good.

My powers worked here for the most part.

As they ought to.

And would you look at that.

A gurney just so happened to be ready to have a nurse or assistant bring you to a doctor to get fixed up.

How convenient.

Another few long strides brought me swiftly to the gurney, and as soon as you were set down, I imperiously waved my had to the attendant (nurse or assistant, it mattered not to me) who rolled the gurney off down the hall.

Satisfied that you would be seen to...

I let myself go.

There wasn't anyone's opinion here that I cared about (a lie) who might witness me in a moment of weakness.  Piece by piece I began to break down internally as my situation slowly began to fall into place. And not just the most recent incident of being found in your closet or landing into the home via the sky.

No.

That little teensy little thing that made my mind sink further into madness was the fact that, the moment my face had been punched by you…the way my head snapped backward…it had caused some actual pain in my neck before I righted myself.

That pain.

It was not normal for me in particular. Nor was the ache that lingered in what remained of my upper spine when I went from real world to my world.

What a conundrum.

That sharp sense of agony…it just so happened to have flashed through me in the area centered around where my head was connected to what remained of my severed cervical spine.

Wait.

Frowning, I stared down at one of my hands; in particular, the one that had been stained with your blood.

It had been…a very long time since I’d seen blood (apart from animated types). While the world outside of my head had interesting exceptions to bodily harm not being fatal compared to other places…at times it made me wonder at times.

How had I survived replacing my original head with a television?

I recall, hazily, that it had been quite a messy scene. Even though I had been successful, there had been an initial agony over the separation of my head from the rest of my body. The burning, agonizing pain lingered for a long while as my body adjusted to a heavier (and much different) head than before.

Wait.

Was it possible?

I began to pace back and forth, still in the lobby of the hospital.

Had I somehow ended up in a different world after I’d been so rudely struck into the air? Or was I still in the same world, and just far away from Smg4, Mario and the rest of those miserable miscreants?

“It can’t be!” I dramatically flashed a picture of an alarmed man across my face. I slapped my hands on either side of my head, heedless of leaving a bloody handprint on one side. “It simply can’t be true!” I broke into a sprint, booking it down a hallway as fast as my long, wonderful legs could take me. I skidded to a half, proceeding to wrench open a door as a nervous, hysterical laugh escaped me.  “What did you do?” I muttered to my former actors that I so graciously let star in my amazingly wonderful shows. Reaching behind my head, I fished one wire out from a few and unplugged it, flinching at the odd sensation.

Unpleasant.

It sparked but once it was done, I plugged the wire into a slot at a desk full of tv monitors.  This was attached to a device that allowed me to look out into the real world v ia the nearest television sets.  This was in addition to my currently prone head in your closet.  I allowed myself a short amount of time to figure out where it was that I’d been sent. The answer wasn’t what I’d wanted but it was what I received.

I had been sent to a world that was parallel to the one I’d come from.

How very interesting.

I was certain that I could technically make it back, but with my currently diminished powers from my too recent, humiliating defeat? It would be much too difficult and exhausting to make an attempt at present.

I straightened up in the chair I was seated on in as a thought came to mind.

Why not stay here?

Why not stay away from Smg4, Mario and all those other nuisances they called friends?

Something to consider, when I was not feeling as though my poor body had been knocked forcefully through several brick walls reinforced with steel beams. Besides, I currently have some new entertainment in the form of you, who took one look at a man with a tv for a head in your closet and chose violence.

How entertaining!

What a reaction!

I wondered what else you had to offer.

…and if I would bring you out of this dimension or find an appropriate place for you to stay here.

Removing the wire and plugging it behind the back of my head (it ached), I rose from the chair while fussing over the sight of a sullied outfit from my bloody glove.

A change of clothes was in order.

With a snap of my fingers, and a minor spark, my clothes became pristine once more, no wrinkles or blood stains in sight.

But my glove…it remained covered in congealed blood.

I tugged both gloves off, going to wash my bared hands off as I pointedly ignored my missing fingers and the way the skin was graying, the color trailing up my arms to twine over my old skin tone. After drying my hands with a towel, I quickly pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.  A quick, facetious adjustment of my bow tie, and I was ready to go.

What to do, what to do.

Oh, yes!

I really ought to go make sure that you wouldn’t kick up too much of a fuss when you woke up in a place that wasn’t your home. Taking another moment to compose myself, I stepped over to the door behind me. Exiting with my head held high, I closed the door quietly, compared to the early fanatic tearing the door open. Briskly walking down along the hallway in the direction of the reception area, I came to a sudden halt.

That couldn’t be right.

Did my hearing deceive me, or had I just hear the sound of a lighter flick open?

Taking two more strides I entered the reception area and knew in an instant that I had heard that telltale sound of someone lighting up a cigarette. 

My head snapped to the side, a manic smile twisting up at one side. Eyes wide, I set my sight on her.

Carol.

The one person in this world who did her best to try my patience time and time again. It had been a few weeks since our last little ‘talk.’ No better time than the presence to catch up and have another be privy to the absolutely horrendous way my day had ended.

“Carol! How could you?!” I laid the dismay and shock on thick, as if I were genuinely appalled by her behavior, even if I understood it perfectly.

That’s why we got along so well, she and I. We understood one another; what secrets I hid, a nd what secrets she hid, remained just that; secret.  A mutual benefit to have one with her knowledge, and her for my ability to bring people out of the real world to here.

But I digress.

“This hospital is a no smoking zone!” I gasped, hands on either side of my face, acting properly scandalized. Dashing forward, I dramatically sprawled my upper body over the large reception counter, perfect for my tall frame to efficiently use the space for said dramatics. The back of one of my hands rested on the top side of my head. “What would the director of this hospital think?”

“That’s you and we both know what you actually think.” Carol tapped the cigarette pack on the desk with a finger. “Want one?”

Carol remained disinterested in my display of concern as I further laid myself out on the large marble counter, my hand pressing harder to the side of my head. Her words sunk in, and with a strained grin, I acted as though her suggestion deeply wounded me, instead of the annoyance that flashed through me for being practically ignored.

“How could you ask me, the one who produced children’s shows, to smoke?” I asked plaintively, appalled, and reflected the 'hurt' in the image on my face that I’d chosen at random. “Why, I’d never!”

“That wet cat’s expression on your screen holds more sincerity than you’ll ever have.” Carol deadpanned as she picked up the pack of cigarettes to hold within my reach.

“Carol!” I delicately placed my hand over my heart. “You wound me. I’m as sincere as they come!”

“You went through multiple packs of cigarettes in the three days leading up to your ‘groundbreaking’ movie.” Carol snorted in derision.

“Guilty.” I grinned while I took a cigarette out of the pack after being so dually called out. With a snap of my fingers, I lit the cigarette with the little fire I created. I held the cigarette to my face to take a long drag (enjoying the consternation that crossed Carol's face at my ability to do so) as I thought of a comeback. I eventually let the smoke out in a wispy trail before offering Carol a sly smile. “I do so enjoy our little chats. It’s nice to have at least one person around that doesn’t immediately balk over my abilities.”

“So? How’d it go?” Carol asked, sounding disinterested as she lit another cigarette.

“Oh, it was so wonderful to start off with, but that damn plumber had to go and throw a wrench in things!" I gushed instantly. I had an audience, and even if it was one person who didn’t actually care, it was better than no one. “Why, I even had the upper hand for a time before it all went wrong!” I waved my hands in agitation as I sprawled back out on the counter. I let the cigarette float in front of my face as I continued on. “Just horrendous! I’d had those five stars, Carol! I’d had them at long last! My best show was about to premiere; one where everyone could participate, and those brats upstaged me!” I smashed a fist into the counter, face likely showing off a deranged realistic one before I shook my head, the face going to a wide, desperate smile.  "Me! Can you believe it?! And to add insult to injury, my face was broken not once, not twice, but a third time when I was punted out of that particular world!  And then again before I came here!”

“About time.” Carol muttered.

“Excuse me?” My head snapped to the side to glower dangerously at her.

“What? You heard me.” Carol pressed her cigarette tip into the counter to put it out. “You gonna brainwash me into a good little puppet to perform in some show no one is going to watch?”

“I don’t think I heard you correctly.” I gritted out as my head twitched, first to one side then the other as I rose.  Perching on the counter, I gripped the edge of the desk, twitching some more as my face reflected my growing fury. “Would you care to repeat that?”

“I said, you’re going to have to take that person you brought here back home, especially if they’re from somewhere they can get hurt from just punching your face.” Carol said, unbothered by how close my face was to her as I leaned menacingly closer over the counter.

“And how would you gather that?” I asked, voice strained.

For a fifth time that day, I was punched in my handsome face.

What a terrible tragedy that was.

My balance gone, and with a ridiculous amount of flailing, I toppled off the counter and onto the floor with a grunt. The back of my head hit the floor, causing my neck to twinge.  Odd, but not pertinent to what just happened.

I would address it later.

Maybe.

I scrambled to my feet and leaned on the counter, hands bracing myself to be eye level with the one responsible for my loss of balance. How dare she knock me over! Me, me of all people, who-

“Look.”

My eyes flicker between narrow and open as I studied Carol’s proffered hand.

The injury that she’d received from walloping me was already healing, and in no time at all, it was gone.

Straightening my shoulders, I stand up to my full height and loom over Carol, who remained seated, and frustratingly, unintimidated by me.

I should teach her a lesson.

I should make her respect me in this world of my own creation.

To let her know that I held the power to return her, or to make her that 'puppet' as she put it.

And yet…

I needed her expertise here, just as she needed a place to hide.

"Don't you have something better to do than natter at me?"  Carol tossed out a little unnecessarily.

Stung, and without a witty comeback, I spun on my heel and stomped off, head twitching and face a frown I made my way toward whichever room you'd been brought to.

"Don't walk into any more fists today!"  Carol called out after me. "You wouldn't want to lose your head!"

Sarcasm mixed with vindictiveness in the voice that told me she wanted to will that to happen.

What a bother.

It made things interesting, if infuriating, when someone was left free to needle me without fear of repercussions.

Chapter Text

As quickly and suddenly as you’d fallen unconscious, you were awake again, sleepiness quickly leaving in favor of realizing you were not in the closet of your bedroom any longer. A twinge in your arm drew your attention to your injured arm, wrapped up in bandages.

Okay…so you hadn’t imagined the man in your closet.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized with trepidation that you were in what appeared to be a hospital room. Why were you in a hospital? Had you really hurt your arm and hand that badly to require being taken to one?

Confusion rose the longer you lie there on the bed in the hospital room.

Had one or both of your roommates brought you here?

...wouldn’t that have meant they would have seen the man with the television set over his head, if that had been the case?

Where was he?

Had the man fled once your roommates showed up, or had the man left beforehand?

Thought...how would he have managed that, when the man had closed the two of you inside of the closet?

Before you could think upon it any further, a knock sounded on the door, followed by a voice you didn’t recognize.

“Hello? Are you awake? This is important. I need to speak to you, quickly, before he shows up.” The voice was professional, yet concerned, and weirdly quieter than you expected to hear from what you presumed was a doctor, nurse, or even one of their aides.

“I’m up.” You confirm, even scooting up in bed to somewhat sit up with all the pillows piled behind you, instead of a bed that could rise upward to sit you up. The rest of the words filtered into your head, and you furrow your brow.

Who was he?

The door opened and what you could only describe as a person you’d expect to see as a doctor entered. What followed was also the basics you could remember if you were brought into the hospital, until it wasn’t, when the doctor’s own brow furrowed in concern, and they even glanced back out the door they’d come through.

That was…weird.

”He brought you here with an injured arm.” 

There was the ‘he’ again.

You got a sinking feeling, and the doctor appeared to take notice.

”There’s nothing wrong with your arm now, aside from time to heal and ensuring that it doesn’t become infected.” The doctor assured you.

”I guess my roommates didn’t bring me here.” You said faintly.

”You were not, if you were brought to this place.” The doctor confirmed, warily looking over their shoulder again.

Well, wasn’t that ominous.

“Then who-“ You trail off when you think of the Mr. Closet man, and don’t want to believe that you’d been kidnapped to be brought to a hospital, but what other explanation was there if it weren’t one of your roommates?

Just then, both you and the doctor hear voices speaking distantly from outside the door. Interestingly, the doctor’s expression became frustrated, and they surprise you when they come closer to your bedside, and lower their voice to an urgent, serious whisper.  

“Do not let that man have his way. Do not let him leave this hospital without you, or you might not be able to ever leave.”

What the hell did that mean? 

Again, incredibly ominous and-

“Oh doctor! A word with you, please, before you continue to see to our guest?” A cheerful voice called out on the other side of the door.

You don’t think you’d ever seen a person’s face blanch before. The sight made your confusion land firmly into trepidation and unease over the fear that ended up flashing across the doctor’s face. 

With a slow exhale, the doctor stepped over to the door, and exited, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

There’s a low murmur of voices, from the doctor and what sounded like that man in the closet from before. Then, an odd of place, weird zapping noise.

Not a moment later, the doctor reentered the room, and it was very clear to you, even as you were still waking up and becoming more cognizant, that something was very, very wrong.

The doctor was acting like they had never met you and went over the exact same information as they’d just given you earlier, along with how to care for your injury. Once all the basic information had been explained to you (not even asking about your insurance or anything) the doctor left the room once more.

That…had been incredibly freaky. 

You couldn’t shake a rising fear of your own from the way the doctor’s eyes had looked. Before, you could all but see the fear in those eyes, but when the doctor had come back into the room after presumably speaking with Mr. Television Man, there was nothing of the sort. It was almost like the eyes had no life in them for a few seconds, until the doctor began to speak to you. But even then, there wasn’t much of an awareness in the doctor’s visage. 

Strangely, it was as if the doctor, in that moment in time, had no care in the world but what their job required of them. There was no trace of that earlier, weirdly urgent insistence that you not let whoever ‘he’ was leave you here in the hospital.

’He’ most definitely had to be the-

The door opened with a gusto, the man with the television over his head entering the room with a flair and a tipping of the hat on his tv head by tilting said head and tapping the hat with a gloved finger.

”Hello there, good to see that you awake!” The man greeted you, as if you hadn’t found him hiding out in your bedroom’s closet like a creep. “My name is Mr. Puzzles!”

You stare at the loud spectacle that was abruptly before your eyes that had delivered that overly cheerful, friendly greeting. With the doctor’s warning on your mind, you warily eye the man with the tv over his head, before the name sank in, and you stared harder at the dapper dressed man to see if he was serious with that name. When nothing was forthcoming and the technicolor smile on the screen with digital eyes watching you did nothing but wait, you frowned.

Mr. Puzzles?

Really?

What kind of name was that?

“Why, it’s a one-of-a-kind name for someone like me! A man who is the business of all things television!” Mr. Puzzles replied enthusiastically. 

Oops, you hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“You must be very confused as to why you’re in this hospital instead of that closet of yours.” Mr. Puzzles took your silence as the cue to talk at you. “Allow me to fill you in! You are here because you’d injured yourself on the glass of my face.” A shift on the television screen to a tired, exasperated one, flickering. “That hurt, by the way, being punched like that! But you have a very good arm for that!” Mr. Puzzles’ expression shifted to a neutral looking one. “And since you’d been bleeding and passed out, I brought you here to be fixed up!”

“I remember trying to shove you away.” You…have this strange feeling that you hadn’t exactly passed out willingly, but you aren’t certain if this strange man would give you a straight answer, so you don’t bother asking. For now. “And I wouldn’t have needed to be brought to a hospital if you hadn’t been hiding in my closet.”

“Then you shouldn’t have put me in your closet, my dear.” Mr. Puzzles responded in turn. 

“I put an old broken television set in my closet.” You shot back. “Not a man.”

“That ‘old broken television’, which is quite rude, by the way, to say when that was me.” Mr. Puzzles crossed his arms, a colorful frown twitching up and then down to the lower part of his screen. “I was just resting within the television before I felt well enough to emerge. And when I did, to my surprise, what did I find? Some dark stuffy closet!” One of Mr. Puzzles’ arms lifted to point a gloved finger at himself, offended. “Me. In such a dark, desolate place. Can you imagine?” Dropping his voice to a cross mutter, Mr. Puzzles’ digital eyes looked off to the side of the room. “Was I not good enough to be set somewhere more appealing? Somewhere where the splendor of my handsome, if broken, face could be admired?”

What.

“…The screen was broken." You begin, warily watching the man.  "Broken televisions either get tossed out or fixed, so I decided to put the television set into my closet.”

Mr. Puzzles' other arm dropped to his side as he went off on a furious muttered tirade of some sort that you couldn’t understand.

Okay.

This was getting weirder.

Where in the world were you, apart from the hospital? Was it the one outside of town in the nearest city, or somewhere else?

“Were you going to throw my head out when you returned?” Mr. Puzzles attention was suddenly fixed back on you. He sounded less cheerful than before, a manic gleam in those digital eyes that hadn't been there before.

That didn’t seem a good sign, but you answered honestly anyway. “Not right away? I’d thought I’d try to fix the screen after work, to see if it was worth the money to repair versus junking it.”

”Fix?” Mr. Puzzles considered this, then perked up. With another little static glitch across the television screen to change expressions again, the man was suddenly in your space. “Does that mean you find my type of head appealing? To be worth enough to fix, instead of getting one of those newer television sets?”

“…I haven’t seen a tube television tv since I was younger. My last one was this giant tv that took up a large space in the entertainment unit when I was in my late teens.” You weren’t sure why you were bothering to continue to answer this person, when you just wanted to get back home. “As for fixing that type of television? Sure, some people will do that. There are people that like tube televisions, so as long as they’re repairable.”

”I see…” Mr. Puzzles seemed put out by the idea that someone wouldn’t want to keep a tube television set in their home. 

“Why do you have a tv on your head anyway? Didn’t it take a long time to hollow it out?” A question that you'd vaguely wondered when you’d come across this tv man unexpectedly. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”

“Whatever do you mean?" Mr. Puzzles lightly rapped the side of the television. "This is my head."

”There’s no way that’s an actual head I can see a neck there.” You point at it as if Mr. Puzzles could see it.

“Is it not normal where you’re from for people to have objects for a head? Mr. Puzzles sounded genuinely confused by your words. 

“They wouldn’t be alive if that were the case.” You said bluntly. “Human heads tend to stay on their necks. They would already be dead if someone tried to put an object in its place.”

“Then I must be a special case where I come from then.” Mr. Puzzles said as his cheer returned. 

Tuning Mr. Puzzles out, you glance down at your arm, and did some quick thinking.  Since you weren't exactly listening at the moment, you waited for Mr. Puzzles to pause in his speaking, and then quickly interrupted.

"I should get back home."

"What?"  Mr. Puzzles stopped speaking altogether as he spun on his heel to look at you, and the way you'd scooted to the edge of the bed.

"Home."  You repeated. Thankfully, you were not wearing a hospital gown; all that had been changed was the sleeve of your t-shirt being rolled up to not impede the bandages wrapped around your arm. "My roommates will be wondering where I am. I heard at least one of them arrive home, before you brought me...wherever this is."

"Are you sure you're well enough to leave so soon?"  Mr. Puzzles questioned, fidgeting as the television head turned, as if he were glancing back at the door.  "You can stay here a little longer and recover."  The man turned back to face you.  "That's a good idea, isn't it?"

"I'm actually feeling much better than before."  As in, you were no longer panicking about a man in your bedroom closet. No, you were now much more concerned over the fact that tv man here had brought you somewhere while you were unconscious. With the doctor's warning still in mind, you asked.  "How far away is my house from this hospital?"

"Oh, that."  Mr. Puzzles let out an uneasy, breathless laugh as he gave a dismissive wave of a hand.  "You can’t exactly get home from the hospital as this place is just that. A hospital."  Mr. Puzzles' screen switched to a rather shifty looking one.  "With a few houses, stores and such nearby, for the employees here. But not much else is needed here otherwise, for the show."

What did that even mean?

You were beginning to get very nervous.

The way Mr. Puzzles shifted from one foot to the other near the bed so uncertainly made you lurch off the bed.

"Hey, you shouldn't get up so quickly like that, you lost blood, you'll-"

Mr. Puzzles abruptly stopped speaking when you firmly grasped his right arm.

Using your good arm, you'd looped it around his and gripped his forearm. With how tightly you squeezed and held on, the arm gave a little under the dress shirt.

It didn't feel...human.

What in the world?

It was like muscle, but not, and radiated heat.

A prosthetic?

No.

You felt something like muscle flex beneath your hand.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Puzzles questioned, arm twitching beneath your hands, but he otherwise didn't shake you off.  Instead, the man turned his television screen and tilted it down to look at you. "...not that I mind, per say, but I do have to point out this is an odd reaction, considering the way you acted toward me before." At that, the television set titled back.  "I don't precisely want this closeness based off of you punching me in my handsome face earlier and-"

"Take me back home. Now." You hastily interrupt. "I could have treated my arm in the bathroom or even had one of my roommates take me to the hospital or urgent care if it was really as bad as you say." You were close enough to Mr. Puzzles that you hear a low chuckle, perhaps not meant for you to hear.  It was then that you noticed the television screen was no longer broken like it was before, and again the face on it shifted.

"It seems like the doctor was able to divulge some information he wasn't supposed to." A technicolor smile tugged up either side of the lower screen, those digital eyes making Mr. Puzzles appear amused by some punchline to a joke he wasn't sharing.   "But that's all right. I've already had a little chat with the nurse. Oh, that Carol, such a great conversationalist, I must admit. She insisted that I take you back home too."  Mr. Puzzles contradicted his own words by taking a discreet step backward, only for you to take one closer to keep hold of him. "She pointed out something even I hadn't noticed right away; this channel doesn't agree with you, with how slowly your injuries were healing."

Like a normal person?

In what fantasy world did someone's skin getting sliced up by glass heal within a short amount of time?

"That means you're not able to stay here for very long without it affecting you negatively."   Mr. Puzzles said confidently, taking another step back, and then another, in a different direction, slowly enough that you were able to keep up.

It took you a moment to realize that Mr. Puzzles had absently begun to lead you around the room in a slow dance, as if randomly dancing with the stranger whose closet he'd been hiding inside was acceptable in this situation.

"This not-healing does put a bit of a snag in my plan to get back home, if any trouble comes of you not being found in your own home, and the cause of your injury despite it being you punching me-"  Mr. Puzzles evaded a shove to his other shoulder by spinning you in a slow circle, seemingly entertained by your reaction and not as concerned with having you let go of him.  In fact, Mr. Puzzles seemed to be trying to talk more than was needed, in order to keep up the contact. "A little trouble for me, but not the worst I've dealt with, really."

You listened as Mr. Puzzles began to hum as he kept up the slow circling of the room with you as you were puppeted around. And because you were clinging tight to the man's arm as if expecting him to vanish into thin air if you let go, the more like a madman he appeared to you as he talked.

"-And I do have to admit that you don't fit here anyway." Mr. Puzzles shrugged, his free hand clasping a half-hearted swing of a non-injured fist you sent his way. He then proceeded to randomly dip you backward as part of the impromptu dance, sliding a leg out of the way of an attempted kick to his shin, and lifting you back up as Mr. Puzzles let go of your hand to wave it in the air.  "The medical field type isn't a place for one to be long term anyway, unless you're working here on the show."

You don’t even know how to respond to that, nor the way Mr. Puzzles so effortlessly evaded your attempts to stop the dancing and maybe take this a little more seriously.  But your stubbornness to hang onto Mr. Puzzles paid off, even if it seemed to become a bad idea, as Mr. Puzzles suddenly stopped the dancing all and once, and suddenly loomed over you, his screen level with your face and nearly touching your nose, the tickle of static there.  But it seemed to be a distraction, because the bight flash of his colored smile momentarily blinded you.

"Stubborn one, aren't you."  Mr. Puzzles commented from overhead as he straightened up, of the way you'd closed your eyes but continued to hold onto his arm. 

There was a strange dizziness building up in your head and you rubbed one hand at the side of your temple before going straight back to gripping the white dress shirt.

"And that is my cue to know for certain that you can't stay here without, ah, unfortunate complications." A hand tentatively patted your shoulder. "You're going to want to keep your eyes closed while we leave this channel." Mr. Puzzles wrapped his not-currently-clung to freakishly long arm to wrap around your upper back to bring you closer to him.

"What are you talking about?" You'd already closed your eyes to being flashed by a brightly colored television screen, but it didn't prevent a gasp of surprise when Mr. Puzzles practically dragged you right up against his body, made a little awkward by the way you refused to let go of his arm. "What do you mean by cha-" Your words are cut off as you feel a weird sensation of vertigo and being tugged sideways.

"What was that?" Mr. Puzzles asked this in a snide, almost taunting way, as if he knew what your reaction to whatever the 'shift' had been.

When you venture to open your eyes, you see weird purples and blues scattered around a swirling vortex of static that occasionally flashed other colors.  There were also tons of floating television sets all around that made you dizzy to look at with most of them displaying something on the screen.  Reluctantly, and with a groan, you press your face into Mr. Puzzles chest, the static noise all around you incredibly disorienting. 

"If you'd let go of me, I can send you on your way to your home."  Mr. Puzzles commented overhead. The hand over your back twitched, as his voice lowered, sounding menacing for a split second.  "That's what you'd like, isn't it?"

You couldn't find your words, so you merely kept your death grip around Mr. Puzzles' arm.

A theatrical sigh sounded in the strange space.

"I guess this means that I'll have to take you home myself."  A lower tone, grumbly and put-out, but no longer sinister in nature.  "And then I'll have to figure out what I'm going to do, since going to my own home is outside of my current power."

You feel another nauseating shift, almost doubling over were it not for Mr. Puzzles holding you upright with that arm that went behind your back again.

Wait.

When had he moved it away?

Heaving for breath, you dimly notice the way Mr. Puzzles lightly tapped your shoulder.

"-and there we are, my dear, back in your-" 

"Holy shit, Rose! What the-did you see that arm pull our roomie out of that television screen that just sprouted a body?” A new voice suddenly shouted.

"I have eyes, Derek, of course I saw that!" A shriek from another.

"Why are you two screaming?" Mr. Puzzles demanded, a harried expression across his screen, digital eyebrows furrowed as he began to attempt to pry your death-grip off his arm.

”Demon!" The woman's voice cried out.

"I just asked why you're-" An offended gasp, Mr. Puzzles voice pitching higher for a moment. "How dare you call me that!"

Derek said your name, but you didn't respond right away, still dazed from whatever those nauseating 'shifts' had been.

"Oh no, it's coming closer!" The woman, Rose, informed Derek, and presumably you.

"I am a 'he,' thank you very much." Mr. Puzzles appeared to bristle, his antenna sparking.  "Would you care to explain why you're holding that shoe and-"

"Back off, you crazy demon!" The 'thunk' of a shoe hitting Mr. Puzzle's tv head could be heard. "I’m not having those nightmares again!"

Hands suddenly grab you and once you realize it's not Mr. Puzzles, you allow yourself to be tugged away from a startled Mr. Puzzles (currently being assailed by another shoe from Rose, who was one of your roommates) you breathlessly thank your other roommate, Derek, once he helped you get your balance.  After making sure you weren't going to topple over, Derek brushed brown hair out of his face, then advanced on Mr. Puzzles with intention.  Ordinarily, it wouldn't be that threatening, considering the tall, skinny build of your roommate, but it was enough to catch Mr. Puzzles off guard when Derek tackled him to the living room carpet.

Mr. Puzzles letting out a startled yelp.

Derek raised a fist.

"Not the face, please, I just fixed it!"  Mr. Puzzles cried out dramatically, holding his gloved hands out to fend Derek off.

You stumbled backward a little further before you sat down hard on the floor on your backside.

Rose called your name out as she shakily slumped down alongside you. After being able to confirm that you were more or less all right, Rose worried the lower few inches of her blond hair with her fingers.

You stare unseeingly for a moment, only to jerk back into the present at Rose's whispered words.

"What is that thing?” Rose watched as Derek grappled with Mr. Puzzles, who was still talking.

"-What is it with you people and wanting to smash the glass of such a gorgeous visage as mine?" Mr. Puzzles demanded, frustration evident as he attempted to roll your and Rose's roommate off of him to get the upper hand.

”Can someone get me a bat or something!"  Derek called over his shoulder, shifting his weight to prevent Mr. Puzzles from bucking him off. "I’ll send this creep back to where it came from!”

You exchange a glance with Rose, before the two of you shrug.

"Why does no one ever know where the baseball bat is?" Derek groaned, before redoubling his efforts to punch Mr. Puzzles in the screen, despite the possibility of an injury.

Mr. Puzzles, in response, let out an incensed sound and resisted.

Catching your breath, you leaned back against the sofa alongside Rose, watching Mr. Puzzles desperately twist one way and then another, even occasionally taking a swing of his own, but without any real heat behind it, as if he was wearing out from the sudden tussle. A sudden pained yelp rose from Mr. Puzzles as he groaned out something about 'that being a low blow, how rude of you to stoop so low, sir.'

”So…since I think it's clear this is actually a person...why is this weirdo in our house?” Rose eventually asked.  "I don't even want to think about the whole pulling you out of the television screen just yet."

”He’s apparently the old tube television set that fell in through the roof through the attic and to the second floor." You watch as Mr. Puzzles managed to squirm away but was dragged backward by Derek yanking him by the ankles, with Mr. Puzzles comically scrabbling his hands across the carpet.  "I put that tv into my closet and went to work, but when I came home to check, this 'Mr. Puzzles' was hiding in there instead.  He says he was the tv set but I'm not so sure."  Even if the whole coming out a television screen shouldn't have been possible outside of movies and video games." 

"He was in your closet!"  Rose repeated in a scandalized tone.

"Yes?"  You watched, bemused, as Rose flipped her hair over her shoulder and stood up.

Rose paused just long enough to the hair up in a ponytail, before sending a fierce glare Mr. Puzzles way. Then, Rose turned to stalk through the door to the garage.

A smirk made its way onto your face as when Rose returned with a baseball bat, a spring in her step as she approached Mr. Puzzles with a glint in her eyes.

Derek, noticing this, rolled off Mr. Puzzles, who had managed to drag himself into a corner of the room.

Mr. Puzzles scrunched up in the corner of the living room, back to the wall as he raised his hands up in a placating gesture.  "Now, now, there's not need to resort to such violence."

You noticed a weirdly similar smirk to your own make its way across Mr. Puzzles' digital face, one side of the smile lifting as one of his hands minutely moved.  It looked as if he was going to point a finger gun at your roommates.

Whatever Mr. Puzzles was planning to do, you couldn't let it happen.

Before anyone could do anything, Mr. Puzzles included, you snap a blanket up off the back of the sofa and rush forward to drop it over Mr. Puzzles.' head.  This flattened the antenna backward, drawing a gasp from Mr. Puzzles as you tied the blanket off. Still running off the sudden burst of energy, you grab Mr. Puzzles' lanky right arm while Derek, picking up on whatever half-assed plan you thought of, seized Mr. Puzzles left arm. This effectively pinioned the tv man against the wall, apart from his legs, which were sprawled out on the floor.

Mr. Puzzles let out the static equivalent of a sigh, but surprisingly, he didn’t speak.

Wincing over the sudden motion you'd put your poor bandaged arm and hand through, you hang back, rather curious to see what your roommates had in mind. You did wonder if you ought to have just called the police at this point, but in pain from suddenly using your arm, you decided to see what happened over the next few minutes, before making a go for your phone.

"Okay, you creep."  Rose said, pointing the bat at Mr. Puzzle's blanket-covered television head, despite him likely not seeing the motion. "You’re going to answer some questions."

"What happened to him being a demon?" Derek joked, one of his hands going up to grip Mr. Puzzle's left shoulder when the arm twitched. 

“A demon wouldn’t be caught dead in a closet." Rose narrowed her eyes at Mr. Puzzles.  "Not when there’s an attic or a big basement in a house like this to lurk in."

“Maybe the one in the attic was freed with the hole now in it.” Derek said with complete sincerity and a straight face.

“Don’t remind me about the damage.” Rose groaned. “I am so glad it isn’t raining anytime soon.” The blond turned her attention to Mr. Puzzles. “You ready to talk?”

“If I must.” Mr. Puzzles’ muffled voice let out a dramatic sigh this time.  “Though I would like to know…does it have to be in such a manner?” The television headed man let out a high-pitched ‘eep’ when the baseball bat was smacked between his legs, close to his crotch, which made Mr. Puzzles hastily tuck his long legs up to his chest.  "Be careful where you swing that! My goodness, what a bunch of brutes you are."

You…did not think about the implications of that reaction or Mr. Puzzle's accompanying shaky words, instead focusing on holding onto to his right arm.

"This is not how one conducts an interrogation; this is quite an amateurish attempt at best."  Mr. Puzzles said snippily, as he tested the hold you and Derek had on his arms, before continuing to gripe. "You're not even following any of the methods, many of which I 've seen in all the movies, that hold such tactics. Not that I use them in my television shows, of course." Mr. Puzzle's hands wiggled their fingers in emphasis.  "I'll have you know that I make my shows for all audiences."

Rose called out your name.

"Yeah?"  You asked.

"You know which knob on those old tube television sets are volume?"  Rose swung the baseball bat up to rest in on her shoulder.

Mr. Puzzles froze upon hearing that.

"Yeah, I do, why?"  You glance at the blanket you'd loosely tied over the tv head.  "I thought you wanted him to talk?"

"Not if there's going to be a constant running commentary without any answers." Rose said, tapping the bat lightly on her shoulder.

"Whoa1"  You exclaimed as Mr. Puzzles, in sudden desperation, nearly yanked his arm out of your grasp.  "Derek, you want the honors? Little busy here right now."

"I gotcha."  Derek leaned into Mr. Puzzle's arm and reached over for the blanket, to the lower of the two dials.

"Don't you dare!"  Mr. Puzzles reared his head back, but since he was trapped in the corner, it did nothing. "You won't like what will happen if youuuuuu-kztzzt!"  Mr. Puzzles voice was abrupted silenced, meaning Derek had turned the dial close to the mute.

"Ah, silence."  You muttered, a little deliriously, as everything that had happened began to sink in.  "Maybe this is the dream, where we are all interrogating a man with an old television set for a head."  You feel a little tremble in Mr. Puzzles body, though whether from fear or amusement, you couldn't say, as the tv man's screen was still covered with the blanket, and the volume turned down, prevented anything but the sensation and sound of static to be heard. 

What a day.

Night?

You weren't sure what time it was, actually.

But it had been a day, and you were ready to go back to sleep.

Chapter Text

This was not the direction I anticipated my day going. I didn't anticipate being ejected into a world parallel to my own, and certainly not being menaced by your roommates after bringing you back to your home.  Why, those two should be grateful that I'd deemed it necessary to listen to you, Carol, and that snitch of a doctor that insisted I take you out of the TV dimension and back here.  It was becoming clear that this world I'd been sent careening into did not necessarily hold the same rules the other world abided by.

Like your hand and arm being injured instead of healing like Carol's had.

Later.

I could explore this later.

Right now, I had other, more important matters to attend to, such as how I was being treated by these complete strangers! Because how dare these three terrible miscreants see fit to compare me to some common criminal who’d come to rob them!

What an insult!

As if I would ever stoop so low as to such petty theft. 

I may have vehemently protested what was happening, but my head was currently covered with what felt like a blanket.  So not only couldn't I see the targets of such a tirade, but I had also been ever so rudely silenced by having my lower dial turned to mute, which silenced me. 

Unbelievable!

How dare they so causally touch me like that!  Acting as if I didn’t have something quite important to say to their rude accusations!  I shifted my arms, metal antenna uselessly pressed down against the top of my hat.  I may have attempted to actually free myself had that dratted blond-haired woman, Rose, I believe, dared to slam that horrid baseball bat next to my left hip.  With a muted, scandalized gasp, I scrunched myself up as best I could against the wall. My arms were held in place by you, who'd punched me in the face (and been injured; I still wasn't over that happening) and Derek, the roommate with the brown hair who’d been all too happy over the idea of accosting me with a baseball bat.  My shoes pressed down discreetly to the floor as I to determinedly folded my legs up to my chest, to protect myself from any unwanted, painful damage via a bat.

Oh, I was absolutely fuming now.

How dare they-

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me!

Why were these people acting as if I was the one out of line, when they were the ones who so violently attacked me when I offered no resistance whatsoever.

…perhaps it had been the sight of you and your injured arm, and how you'd been a little dazed from being brought of out the dimension in my mind and back to the material world?

I clenched my hands into fists against the floor, feeling both you and the man…Derek, keep firm hold of me.  I was tempted to yank both arms as forcefully as I could; despite how weakened I was from my foray through the air and subsequent crash through a roof…I was sufficiently well enough that I could manage it.  However, the baseball bat currently being out of my vision. And I wouldn't be able to hear it quick enough to hear it unless it was smacked somewhere (or I felt the vibration on the floor). It didn't help that the blanket obscured my vision, and my voice was temporarily silenced.

It was enough of a deterrent to play along with whatever this was. I would play their games, for now, until I had a better handle on the situation.  One must always have enough information before making a grand escape to plot payback.  Just as I planned to do with SMG4 and his group when I was able to get back home world. Although…the twinge in my neck let me know that it might be some time before I felt well enough to try and traverse between the two close-together walls of reality-

A surge of pain shot through my neck from the base of my head and down my spine, causing me to spasm and, ah, involuntarily launched you and Derek away from me. Not a far distance, mind, but enough for Rose to let out a cry of alarm to go assist the two of you. Perhaps that dratted bat would be forgotten about, while I accidently leaned my head over and caused yet another surge of agonizing, burning pain around my neck. No one could hear my agonized screams, currently muted as I was.

Oh, that did not feel good at all.

I needed...I needed a moment to compose myself, I needed a second to make it so that my spine could recover from feeling like it was on fire, as that low burning ache settled in.  A distressed static noise from my face was the only thing I could manage as I clutched either side of my head, fighting the blanket.

Too stifling.

I couldn't breathe with it on.

(I haven't had to breathe in a long time)

With trembling, nerveless hands (worrying, considering they were no longer human), I unwound the blanket, tossed it aside, and gripped the metal of either side of my head tightly. Desperately, I attempted to ride out the sharp pain I had never experienced in my entire life. I'd only ever felt muted aches and pains when I first made the decision to give myself a TV for a head.

(Blood, there'd been unexpected blood and-)

Sharp pain lanced through me, so potent in the agony it caused I lost all sense for a short time.  When I came to, I was staring up at the ceiling of the house I'd been in before, lying flat on my back.  When had I ended up lying down?  You, Derek, and Rose were all staring down at me from overhead, their expressions ranging from alarm to confusion to suspicion.

Involuntarily, my spine, from being supine, sent spasms through my entire back, and I arched up involuntarily, but I certainly dug at the floor with a hand while my other one braced under my head, next to my poor neck.  Either through confusion or a small sense of pity, one of the three people in the room with me slid a pillow underneath my neck, giving it a semblance of aligning the bone of the spine with the wires that wound around it to connect with my head, allowing me the freedom to remove it at will.

My spine spasmed again, less severely this time; the pillow was helping brace my heavy head and took the pressure off my neck.

A relief.

I began to tremble all over, the hand no longer bracing the back of my neck going to the floor to dig my fingers into to offset the continued pain that pounded to the beat of my heart. My screen glitched through several expressions, the sensation of being unable to do anything to stop this feeling in my body so alarm I grasped up overhead, begging for someone, anyone, to help distract me until my damned spine and the stupid, stupid electrical pulse that hadn't been properly diverted ran its course.

Being punched in the face after careening through the space between worlds had truly done a number on me.

Something big and soft, like the shape of an overstuffed pillow, was suddenly set on my chest.  

I didn't question the sudden pressure there, taking it as a lifeline as I clung desperately to the densely filled, yet oddly flat, pillow.  My arms wrapped around the pillow as best I could, and clung tightly, near possessively as my face switched to standby mode as I rode out the fluctuations of spine-tingling agony and screamed out my alarm and fear as the implications slowly sank in. Particularly about this new world I found myself in.

When I finally, finally began to feel more like myself, and wasn't crying out in agony as I held that flat, strange pillow to my chest with all the strength I could muster to hold me into the here and now.

(blood, there was blood, I had to stop it, I had to attach the head, I had to, I made the choice)

I let out a muffled, discomforted groan as my screen flipped back to an exhausted, frowning technicolor smile and scrunched digital eyes with furrowed brows above them.

What a wretched, untimely experience.

What in the world had been the cause of-

"Hey, TV guy, can you hear us now?"

I didn't notice who had spoken, but the voice did remind me that I wasn't alone, and someone was witness to me writhing silently on the ground in excruciating pain. With an effort, I unlatched a hand and raised it above me just high enough to wiggle it sideways.

"I don't think that he's in any shape to move much after...whatever that was."

"He didn't even get hit with the bat."

While I was present to hear the conversation, I couldn't help but agree.  I simply did not have enough energy to hold a conversation without use of my voice.  I was not up for charades. With the way my body was so oddly acting up, I didn't have the patience for it.  But as my neck slowly had the pain dissipate to a tolerable level, I slowly dragged myself toward the front of the sofa, possessively holding the pillow to my chest.  From the way my right arm missed the cushion of the sofa to rest on the space beneath it, feeling the springs.  I was holding a sofa cushion and had been using it as a pillow; this was fine, it was sturdy. I likely would have torn a normal pillow apart with how hard I'd been holding onto the one I still held up against my abdomen and lap to protect myself from any unwanted baseball bat swings.

While waiting for other commentary, I did have to wonder about earlier...

How had you known what I had planned to do? How did you known that I had intended to bring you and your roommates into the television dimension within my mind?  What had that doctor told you, anyhow? The two of you hadn’t been alone for long in that room, so what had the two of you talked about?

Your conversation with Derek and Rose began again, yet this time, I couldn't hear them as well.  But it appeared that they were trying to figure out what to do about me, now that I wasn't flailing in utter agony on the floor anymore.  But they weren't directing their talking to me, as they wouldn’t expect verbal answers anyway unless they switched my volume setting back to normal. I knew those dastardly fools would swat my hands away from any attempts to do it myself even if I was sure I could. 

"Hey, TV man." Derek said, leaning over the back of the sofa.

My body twitched in response to that, and because no one could hear me hotly state that my name was 'Mr. Puzzles, thank you very much', I merely leaned away.  Practically bristling with rage, I held the sofa cushion tight as Rose dared to pat the top side of my head.

“You’re going to give a thumbs up or thumbs down for yes or no while ask you some questions." Rose dared to prod me again. "Got it?”

I offered a dismissive shrug.

“Don’t hit him with the bat, Rose." You pointed out, from somewhere off to the side.  "I don’t think damage will help get answers.”  

From your exhausted tone, I had my confirmation that you were quite worn out from the transfer from this world to my tv dimension, and the back to this one.

Normally there weren’t so many complications.

An interesting place this world was-

”How about we try to be adults here, and let him turn his volume dial up?" You ventured after a moment, and Derek chimed in.

"Yeah, I don’t think he can actually move his head well after whatever it was that sent him down to the ground like that.”

I let out a disgruntled ‘humph’ sound while I adjusted the volume of my voice back to where it ought to be.

“Are you gonna talk?”  Rose asked, back to leaning against the back of the sofa, moving the baseball bat within sight.  "Or do you need incentive?"

"Rose, not helping."  

I nearly titled my head but refrained, not wanting to experience that agony again so soon. This woman...acting as if she had not just screamed at the sight of me not minutes before.  Claiming me to be some kind of demon?  And now, she was already prepared to resort to violence?

Goodness.

What a world this was.

I was silent for a long moment, weighing my options.

“Did you go to sleep?”  Rose asked lightly, unable to see my face from the angle she leaned on the sofa.

"Of course I haven't."  Had I real eyes, I knew a muscle beneath one of them would have twitched at the audacity this woman held.  I did the equivalent by my antenna twitching and my screen flashing rapidly through scowls. “You have all got my attention, so I am very much awake.”  I couldn’t help but allow my voice to drip heavily with sarcasm while I tapped my fingers restlessly against the sofa cushion aka barrier.

“What are you?”  Derek asked blithely, as if this were a completely normal thing to ask. 

Perhaps it was.

I wasn’t a resident of this world.

“Rude.”  I huffed out eventually, turning my head away from Derrek.  “I’m a human, like you all.” I heard several dubious mutters and my shoulders slumped.  “Mostly.” I amended.”  I am.”  I whispered, directing this toward myself more than my sudden captors.  I jolted back to the situation at hand when a hand patted my shoulder.  It was you this time, and I don’t know if it was because you’d not show the propensity to slug me again, or because you had to threaten more violence apart from the (very justified) reaction of seeing a strange man in one's closet, but I didn't jerk away.

"How did you get into out roomie's closet?" Rose asked.

I glanced at you, and then away.

"You up for those questions?"  You asked, as if I hadn't whisked you away from your home to somewhere else.

“Yes, yes, ask them." I waved a hand lightly, trying to not move too much.  "This current seated position is highly uncomfortable and a pain in the neck.” 

Literally.

Between what I’d gone through with SMG4 and his crew, to being punted out of the world completely by SMG4 himself, and then landing here, in a completely different world, only to be punched again?  My poor neck desperately needed some TLC after that painful experience earlier once I had space to myself and a chance to see to it.  I would endure the dull ache, for now, as it seemed I had to make nice with these three before I could be on my way to tend to my neck.  And after that, to find some use for these three later on, while I figured out how to get back home.

“Need to use the bathroom before we start?”  Derek asked, and he actually sounded genuine.

“I do not.”  I said tartly, blindly pointing backward in his direction. "Never ask such a thing of me again."  I was not so politely reminding all involved that I was displeased with this happening to me.

"Sure, keep your bathroom secrets, TV man."  Derek snorted.

"That's Mr. Puzzles."  I snapped irritably in return, before I grumbled inaudibly for a moment before lapsing into silence as I clung to the sofa cushion for comfort.

"Okay, Mr. Puzzles the TV man. who mysteriously appeared in our house." Rose immediately said.  "How did you get inside with the doors locked?"

"By crashing in through your roof. I thought that would be obvious." My screen eyes managed a twitch by glitching rapidly between a few faces. "Why else would I have ended up here? Had I a choice, I'd have rather plummeted from the sky into an empty building."

"Right."

Oh, I could hear the dismissiveness.

If only I were in better shape, I could attempt to drag all three into my mind of the TV dimension.  And yet, with Derek and Rose behind me, and you off to my side, I wouldn't be able to properly catch them all.  Unless Rose went through with striking me with a bat, and I somehow glitched out enough that the electrical kickback brought all of us within my dimension. Of course, that would run the possibility of me not realizing what was going on, and possibly ending up within a show that I was testing out, until the 'plot' ran its course.  And with how weakened I was right now, there was no guarantee I could prevent all three of you from escaping at that point.

So, when your roommates began to ask their boring questions with obvious answers, I automatically answered them to allow myself some time to ponder.  To try and figure out how to turn this situation around in my favor. Surely there was something I could do or say to make this go well, and not result in any more damage of my person.  I only tuned back in again when I heard Rose spoke practically against my screen as she prodded a finger hard into me just beneath my bowtie.

When had she moved?

“And just what will you do about our roomie’s injury?" Rose jabbed me again.

I moved out of range with a flash of a frown.

"Even if you helped them get the injury treated, there’s no way they can work at the café with an arm wrapped up like that!"  Rose moved closer.

I moved backward, nearly ducking behind the end of the sofa. 

I didn't, however.

"And they’ll have to miss more work to rest, depending on what a follow up visit to a doctor visit." Rose pointed an accusing finger my way. "They could be out for weeks depending on the severity of the damage!” Rose finished, pointing an accusing finger toward me.

“I can take some time off if I need to." You add in quietly. "I have some paid time off accrued.” 

“You shouldn’t have to use that because someone else injured you."  Derek piped up, still behind the sofa.  "If anything, he should pay for your doctor bills if there are any out-of-pocket expenses.”

I scooted away from him as well, a suspicious face popping up onto my face. 

I didn’t say anything while you, Rose and Derek talked back and forth, because I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn’t about to snipe back at someone when they were upset and in a position to potentially damage me without me seeing It coming.  As before, I understood I was not in the best of shape after the beating I’d taken.  I was also unable to get to any other TVs in the vicinity of this home because they were all too far away, and my energy level wouldn’t allow a very far transfer at present.

So, I was trapped, despite no longer having my arms pinioned, and in possession of a sofa cushion as a temporary shield.

When I heard you lapse into silence as Derek and Rose spoke worriedly about you being in a hospital they didn’t know about, I again pondered just how much the doctor had told you.  From the sound of it, you didn’t understand exactly how I’d gotten you into the television dimension, but the doctor had told you enough to let you know you could possibly be left where I’d brought you. Whatever the doctor had said certainly caused you to stubbornly cling to me while insisting I take you home.

I was not going to think about how nice the touch was, even if it had been done out of necessity. I wasn't going to think about how I hadn’t felt a non-painful touch for some time, or really much touch at all, as focused on making a great show.  All of that energy and performance that went into that passionate endeavor left little free time for me to be around others often unless I was producing a show.  As soon as the conversation turned to possible legal troubles, such as the breaking and entering, (that I'd not intended on, seeing as I couldn’t control the trajectory of my fall through the air). Or the fact that I'd been in your closet because you’d unknowingly put his head there in the first place (I had no intentions toward you apart from panic over someone blowing my cover before realizing I was in another world altogether).

I was not interested in being arrested, and figuring the authorities wouldn't arrest what looked like a regular old TV (I shuddered to think of myself as ‘old’ in any capacity) I decided it would be a fine time to (grudgingly) retreat. I'd go back into my television dimension within my mind and wait for these people to decide on an actual course of action. Out of pure spite, I took my leave of these hooligans, the conversation left unfinished as I tossed the sofa cushion, causing a surprised yelp from Rose as I acted. 

Swiftly, I retreated with in my own tv head, where it would be quieter.

Safer.

That’ll show them to not treat me like some common thug!

I aimlessly allowed myself to float through the space of my mind, idly watching as I passed by numerous television sets that displayed different ongoing shows, or half-formed ones waiting for that right burst of inspiration to hit.  Oh, how I looked forward to their completion!  These ideas that formed or ones that I would like to take a stab at would to life in here to see how they performed. Here, I could make improvements, adjustments, as time went on and I saw just what each unfinished show needed in order to give it life. If only I’d have the time to show it off with SMG4 and the others before it had all gone wrong.

A spike of pain arced through my neck to shoulder, just barely refraining from going down my still-recovering spine. I grimaced in response as I shakily pressed a hand over my left shoulder, a cross expression of a downturned technicolor frown appearing on my face.

Right.

I had this to contend with, my aching, dully throbbing, pained neck. 

While I didn’t want to make assumptions, I couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this world not being exactly like my own when it came to someone like me.

I was human.

At least...some parts of me were; the rest was fully mechanical.

My arms were robotic from the shoulders down. My legs were metal from the lower thighs, down to my feet.  My TV head, of course, though connected to a neck that still had a spine that was supported by special fabric material and wires to in turn support the TV itself.  My chest and abdomen were human, though with modifications to support the robotic limbs, all the way up to my neck.  There were even interval supports for my spine, as a precaution should something happen to it.  I had also needed to make internal changes as well, and to my ribs in particular, in order to protect my heart. 

A hand rose up to press to my chest at that, just below the bowtie. 

My lungs weren’t needed due to having a TV head and mainly metal limbs, but I needed some oxygen for my heart. I shuddered to think what might happen to me the longer I was away from my original world, if my assumptions proved correct. In my old lung’s place, there was a device that looked similar to the shape of lungs but was merely there to support my still-beating heart and to help keep any remaining blood that flowed through me from going bad, and to slow any decay.   So far, only the color change of my skin had been the result. The lung-like devices also worked to help divert electrical surges away from my heart to prevent damage.  I had safeguards, of course, but sometimes, the electrical surges got through.

Like it had before, where I'd been hit with such inexplicable pain racing up my spine as metal conducted it along.

It wasn’t pleasant to deal with, and especially not in this world. If I were struck in this place, I may have to draw up the plans I have avoided for so long. To consider again making the transfer to being fully robotic or android or whatever it was called in any given show I’d seen with such beings in them. 

But, as always…

My hand spread out for fingers to then grip the dress shift over my chest. 

I always hesitated; I didn’t know what would happen once I do the final change and removed what remained of my humanity, even if my arms and legs looked, for all appearances, human, apart from the missing digit on my hands.  And the way the skin was graying from the still-human areas, their color gradient slowly meshing when met with the gray and black of the mechanical areas my missing fingers. The graying of the skin twined up and over my old skin tone, as I noted when I'd been waiting for your arm to be treated. There was a kernel of worry that, should I finish fully remove all that made me human, it would utterly ruin my creativity that had been sparked from watching all of the moving pictures that existed and led me to replacing my own human head with a television set.

I dwelt on the blood I’d seen in the hospital room in another tv screen nearby, while I floated aimlessly and pondered the implications of what it meant for me.

My musings were cut short when I outwardly felt someone tapping incessantly on my head. This was followed by a weird thud, as if my beautiful face had nearly been faceplanted into the floor by the careless lifting and dropping of my head.

What in the world were those brutes doing?

I reconsidered my stubbornness to remain within my mind, but at an unfamiliar sound, I snapped back into reality with alarm.

My arms...they were currently pinioned in a painful way, bent at the elbows, with my hands up past wither side of my head. I realized with a grimace of a strained smile and dual digital eyes that I was not in a good predicament.  My face briefly glitched through a few different emotions before landing on a flat, cautious stare as I saw and noted, with trepidation, that I was no longer within that house but in what appeared to be a garbage dump.

The garbage compactor was distressingly close; only short distance away from where I had been set down. 

I went very, very quiet.

I didn’t try to fight what felt like rope that was bound around the tv set of my head. My face became covered with facsimile sweat at the top of it with a furrowed brow as my mouth went to a thin distressed line.

Rose and Derek were the culprits; you were missing, interestingly enough.

“You presume correctly.”  Rose said, her voice far too cheerful.  She seemed like a madwoman who was just looking for the opportunity to get her hands dirty.  Perhaps I could provide an outlet on one of my shows to satisfy that desire, without taking it out on me in return with a bat that she currently appeared to have slung over her shoulder?

“While you were hiding in there." Derek pointed to my head.  "Which, by the way, is weird how your limbs can just come in and out of the TV like that?"

"Your ultimatum, if you will." I interrupted impatiently; the ache of my neck had returned, and I dreaded the fallout if this continued on for too long.

"Right, so, we all went to the café where to speak to the owner about how our roomie won't be able to do much work with that injured arm of theirs." 

At least Derek was forthcoming, while Rose threateningly wrapped the end of the bat into her other hand.

"-so the owner agreed to have you come work at the cafe to pick up the slack.”  Derek told me.

“How would that even be allowed?”  I didn’t intend to argue; I knew blackmail when I heard it.

“You volunteered, since you felt bad over the whole thing.” Rose provided helpfully.

“Really.”  I deadpanned.  “Papers? ID? I’m not sure that would be legal, even if I ‘volunteered.’”  I manage air quotes with a curl of my fingers.  “Would my being there easily be found a sham?”

“Only if you say you didn’t volunteer.”  Rose said, tapping the baseball bat against her palm again.  “We’re a small town; the owner of that café doesn’t mind the people who live here helping out now and again. Helps to have extra cash on hand.” 

My expression shifted to calculating. 

I could potentially avoid this by pretending to agree, and then keep my distance. 

However, I was simply too worn out to play along deceptively for as long as this conversation continued on, while I was trapped by rope that prevented me from fully freeing myself. I was worn thin, a strange feeling, but this was something more than normal.  I even felt that there was something pressed to the back of my head that made me feel sluggish and drained. 

Not all my wits were about me. 

It was infuriating, to not be in control of the situation.

I absolutely despised being cornered like this, but again, I appreciated the deviousness, and decided to allow this to continue. I found this all rather fascinating, just as I found you particularly intriguing from your actions toward me thus far.  Interesting, that you weren't here with your roommates delivering this ultimatum.  If I agreed to, ugh, work at a cafe in your place while you healed up, it would allow me the extra time I needed to figure out what to do about being in a world adjacent to my own.

“Very well.” I eventually sighed out, not bothering to hide the exhaustion.  “If I agree to this, am I correct in believing that any financial compensation I receive will be put toward fixing the damage to the house I crashed into?” I studied Rose and Derek's 'innocent' expressions and heaved a dramatic sigh while I spoke sourly.  “Of course.  Where will this…payback take place, and when?”  I listened carefully to the address and filed it within a section of my mind that I could access later, as I truly could not focus with whatever that dratted draining sensation was behind my head.  I let out an offended squawk of static when I was rudely lifted up and carried along into an alley (to further disorient me, no doubt), set down, and only partially freed from the rope.

“See you tomorrow!” Rose called out from the edge of the alley.

"We'll come get you if you don't show up!"  Derek added.

I fumed in silence, half appalled and half applauding of the way I'd been so easily dealt with. Once the two had taken their leave, I grimly began the process to free myself the rest of the way from the rope. I grimly tossed the rope away from myself as far as possible while I brushed my clothes free of any dirt I could see.  From that little exchange, I believe I was also right in my assumption that I would not be welcome back to that house I had crash landed in.

I’m not surprised.

I reached behind my head and felt around, before I removed the magnet off the back to it that had been causing that unpleasant sensation. 

I looked around.

Alone.

Good, in this case.

I needed to switch locations. Focusing, and with some difficulty on my part, I was able to swap places with the nearest tv in a quieter, less populated area of town at the very edge of it. What a terrible turn of events to have gone through that led to this current predicament of mine.

…and I was alone.

Again.

I had much think about until my presence was required at the café tomorrow morning.

How loverly.

I hadn’t foreseen this as a possible outcome but then again, maybe I could find some inspiration at such a place?

After all, why couldn’t a show take place at a café in a small town?

What a delightful idea!

A technicolor smile flicked into place as my expression became smug.

Those three would learn to never mess with me again. Rose and Derek in particular thought that they could run my life how they saw fit by volunteering me to work for their injured friend. So maybe, just maybe, a few of the coworkers there could inexplicably vanish, to allow me try out a little scenario that came to mind?

A thought to visit when at the cafe.

But for now?

I slowly sink to the floor in a room of an abandoned house, leaning over half on and half off the small dust covered bed on an equally dust covered blanket. I desperately needed rest, as the exhaustion wasn’t faked on my part. I also had to do something about the pain in my neck from where it connected to the screen throbbing something terrible. I retreated again within my own dimension, as there wasn’t much that I could do but wait for the ache to pass to something tolerable before I could do anything. So, there I lay, face-down in the dust, and likely dirtying my beautiful face as I went to sleep in the only way I really knew how, apart from just shutting off my screen and going inert. I went into my mind and let myself drift aimlessly to dampen the pain.

The what if's over what could have happened should SMG4 and Mario not ruined my beautiful plans to bring the greatest entertainment show to everyone. 

If I only knew that I would be rudely awakened the following morning, I would have not left my body limply lying askew against the tiny bed in such a pathetic manner. How embarrassing, for it to be you to find me first, and not your devious roommates.

Why I cared would be something to visit at a later time, after I 'learned the ropes' at the cafe.

Chapter Text

As quickly as Mr. Puzzles had overcome his panicking and ended up retreating, somehow, into the TV over his head, the silence that followed his departure hung in the air. For quite some time, actually, as the three of you stared at said television set.

Rose was the first to speak.

“Well, that happened.” Rose reluctantly set the baseball bat aside, now that it was no longer needed, but kept it close by. “Derek and I can take care of this.” Rose indicated the TV on the floor, before jabbing a finger your way. “While we do that, you ought to go get some rest. You look like shit.”

”Thanks so much for that.” The sarcasm missed as you widely yawned.

“Yup. You sure look like you could use a good night’s sleep after whatever that weirdo put you through inside that TV.” Rose said with an adamant nod, her ponytail bobbing along with the motion. Sending a suspicious glance the now-innocuous tube TV on the floor, Rose added. “And a few naps staggered throughout the rest of the week.”

”Yes, mom.” You dutifully said with a smirk. “Should I brush my teeth twice a day too?”

Rose rolled her eyes.

”I brush them twice a day.” Derek said confidently.

“Still can’t believe we saw our roomie be pulled out of a TV screen by a disembodied arm.” Derek warily nudged the side of the TV with one of his shoes. “But hey, now you can go to bed without worrying about tv guy in your closet.”

“Hopefully that was a one-time event. I’d rather never find a living, breathing person in my closet unless it’s Derek hiding from the police.” You responded faintly as you stared at the TV as your mind struggled to comprehend what Derek said happened to you when Mr. Puzzles ‘brought you back home.’

”Hey! I didn’t mean to hack into that police station computer mainframe! I told everyone I was trying to revamp my own setup but something went wrong! I even had an IT guy come out to make sure I couldn’t inexplicably go to another system across town.” Derek paused, then pretended to take a note. “And okay! Next time I accidentally cross the law, I will use your closet as my home for however long it takes for things to calm down.”

”I’ll slip you some snacks and water and let you use my bathroom.” You said solemnly; definitely tired of you were playing along with Derek’s shenanigans. 

“We live in the same house.” Rose sighed. “The police would check all the rooms and find you. Maybe just don’t give the sheriff grief by finding new ways to almost be arrested. You’re lucky your aunt is friends with the sheriff and that both of them know you didn’t actually mean to hack a very sensitive system, that in other places, would have put you in jail.”

”Don’t ruin my fugitive closet dreams.” Derek said with a forlorn shake of his head.

Wincing when you adjusted your arm, and letting out another, more noticeable yawn brought Rose and Derek’s attention back to you.

Sleep.

You definitely needed some sleep, because you were still going back to stare unseeingly at the TV on the living room floor. The TV that a grown man had somehow gone inside of.

How in the world was it even possible?

And more to the point…how had it even been possible that you yourself had been inside of a television? Then there was the whole, you know, possibility of someone actually having a TV for a head.

There was no way that could be real.

You’d said as much to Mr. Puzzles.

No one would survive replacing their head with a TV, after all, even if Mr. Puzzles insisted it was a normal occurrence back home for there to presumably be the existence of object-headed people.

Ugh.

All of the information from today was a confusing tangle in your mind and on top of that, you were experiencing some pain from your injured arm and hand. So much had happened since you arrived home from work; sleeping it off sounded like a great idea.

“Yes, you are practically dead to the world.”

You said nothing to that as you warily stared at the old tube television set like it was going to do a trick.

“C’mon, time for bed. You can punt the guy tomorrow if he comes back to the house and harasses us.”

There wasn’t any resistance or argument from you as Rose helped direct you to the staircase after you failed to move from your spot on the sofa. The television continued to sit there innocently enough, when you checked with a quick glance over your shoulder.

“You sure went through the wringer today with whatever happened to your arm.” Rose commented, making sure you didn’t trip up the stairs again.

”Punched him in the screen but it was broken glass.” You grasp the railing with your good hand.

“You must have gotten some of the good pain killers if you did it even notice you were grappling that Puzzles guy earlier.” Rose frowned, likely trying to figure out just where Mr. Puzzles had your arm treated.

You’re not sure how to explain what happened, as you stare still uncertain yourself.

”Rest up.” Rose said, once the two of you reached the second floor.

Yawning, you let out an hum of agreement. While Rose went back down the stairs, you shuffled off to your room, the weariness weighing you down. You could process what happened today once you weren’t both keyed up and exhausted, as well as likely loopy from the pain meds you surely had in that hospital.

Wherever that hospital had been.

Tomorrow.

You’d touch on that tomorrow.

Right now, your arm and hand didn’t hurt like hell after punching Mr. Puzzles in the screen (face??), and stupidly wrenching your arm backwards, which further injured you. Maybe, when you woke back up, you’ll find that this had all been a wild dream, you mused, as you wobble up to your bedroom door and open it up.

Despite going to bed earlier than you planned, you do think it is a good idea. You think you already had this thought, but with how shot to hell your thoughts were, you’d let your mind do with itself what it would right now. Heck, you don’t even know if you’d eaten dinner at this point, but since your stomach wasn’t troubling you, sleep beckoned. You didn’t even have the wherewithal to change your clothes, exhaustion finally dragging your body down.

The moment you carefully settle yourself into bed without jostling your wounded yet treated and bandaged arm, you sag in relief. It was the first time in a long while that you’d passed out almost immediately after finding a comfortable position on the mattress.

Nice.

~

Despite feeling like you’d just fallen asleep, you would later find out that you ended up getting a great night’s sleep. And as a bonus, there hadn’t been any dreams about weird men with TV’s over their heads.

Fantastic.

Next step for the morning?

A change of clothes, which was a bit of a challenge, but you managed with a pair of pants and a short sleeved shirt. The throbbing ache in your arm increased with any simple motion, which hampered your arm’s movement. The pain was more noticeable, the burning ache sinking in, which meant whatever you’d been given yesterday afternoon (you think) at that odd hospital had  run its course overnight.

Sufficiently presentable, you exited your room, idly wondering if, perhaps, you’d imagined finding a man in your closet. A man with a TV for a head, who later introduced himself as Mr. Puzzles. Coming to a halt in the hallway, you glance up at the second floor ceiling to the attic.

The hole that had been made by the TV crashing through the roof of the house, attic, and to the floor of the hallway between bedrooms.

So…

You had not imagined that happening yesterday. At least, the whole TV crashing out of the blue into the house you shared with your roommates.

And speaking of roommates, you were unable to find Rose or Derek as you listened for any hint of a chaotic morning.

It was quiet.

Depending on what you found, that could be a good or a bad thing.

Luckily, everything was as it was yesterday evening.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t find your cell phone, so you glumly prepared to go in to work. Mainly to figure out what you’d be able to do while your arm recuperated. And as soon as you talked to your boss, the only other thing you had planned to do was go to the small clinic in town. The doctor just so happened to be there this week, and it was likely you’d be able to sneak in an appointment to be seen.

How convenient for you.

After scrounging up some breakfast, you head out to the cafe, but when you reach it, you’re surprised to find that your roommates are there too.

Derek and Rose were chatting away with your boss, the owner of the cafe.

No wonder neither of them were home when you woke up that morning.

Sighing, you walked over to join your roommates and boss, positive you were going to be told to take it easy. But when you get within earshot, you overhear the three of them talking about Mr. Puzzles for some reason, which made you stop short.

Wait.

If they were talking about that man who’d been in your closet, then…

Oh, geez.

That meant that everything that happened with Mr. Puzzles had been real?

But…

How did he end up in the TV last night?

That had to have been something you imagined, right? There was no way that Mr. Puzzles actually meant what he said when you’d met him.

Ugh.

You were not awake enough to really give the logistics of it all thought right now. At this rate, you weren’t really even in any shape to work, especially when you realized that your boss, Rose and Derek had all seen you and had apparently been speaking to you. And you’d not heard them while you’d been staring off into the distance while struggling to comprehend Mr. Puzzles, and the ability to have a TV head, yet logically, shouldn’t.

Honestly?

Considering how quickly you were swept out of the cafe and ushered into a car with your roommates, you should have just stayed home until your doctor appointment. You believe this for three reasons, apart from the whole not tracking a conversation.

The first reason?

You didn’t think you’d be much help looking for Mr. Puzzles at the west edge of the town, where there were a few abandoned houses fenced off from the rest.

The second reason?

The abandoned houses weren’t locked up, since townspeople occasionally took turns tidying the places up. You probably ought not to risk re-injuring yourself.

The third reason?

It matched up with the tail-end of the second reason. Your arm was currently giving off a low burn and a sense of a throbbing ache; this indicated that, while taken just enough pain killer to stave off the worst of it, you shouldn’t take any stupid chances.

“Hey.” Derek said your name, interrupting your thoughts. “You look like you bit into a lemon.”

“I feel like my arm and the back of my fingers are being repeatedly stabbed with slices of glass and sharp needles respectively.”

“Detailed.” Derek said with a nod as he kept an eye on the road as he took a turn at a stop sign.

“Thanks, the pain came up with it.” You rolled your eyes. “And by the way, how do you know that Mr. Puzzles is even out this way?”

“I put a tracker on him last night.” Rose answered, holding up her phone with a little map on the screen, and a blinking dot. “It shows the approximate location, though, since it doesn’t exactly let me zoom in on the map with this one as far as I’d like.”

“Guess we’ll find out if Mr. TV Man is actually there or not.” Derek added, offering a little finger wave from the wheel of the car to another vehicle. “We have no idea if he found the tracker or not, but with how worn out he seemed when we left him in the alley by Margie’s, he can’t have gotten far.”

You stare at the back of your friends’ heads for a moment before letting out a slow sigh.

A tracker.

What movie were you living that all of this had happened just yesterday?

Everything had been perfectly ordinary up until the television set crashed into the house, but that had been dealt with. Even when you were leaving work, all you had thoughts for was what groceries you were going to pick up this weekend. But the moment you get home from work, everything went completely sideways when you found a whole ass man in your closet.

Tuning back in to your reality, you noticed that Derek had just parked the car, and looked delighted to be spending part of his day on the hunt for someone they’d only just met yesterday. Someone you all knew practically nothing about apart from a name.

Mr. Puzzles.

A name that couldn’t possibility be his real name, yet it was the only one offered.

“Okay you two, here’s what we’re going to do.” Rose said as she waved the phone in her hand at the pair of you. “This tracker isn’t giving me an exact location, just this general area-“ The blond haired woman waved her free hand toward the window, where there were houses nearby. “So, we’re going to split up and cover more ground. He was supposed to be at the cafe a half hour ago, so we don’t want to keep Tiff waiting.”

“Tiffany hates it when you call her that.” You pointed out as you reluctantly unbuckled to exit the car with your roommates nonetheless.

“Your boss also hates possible employees saying they’d cover for injured or unable to work employees not showing up when agreed upon.” Derek pointed out, shoving his hair under a baseball cap to keep it out of his eyes.

“I highly doubt that was Mr. Puzzles’ idea.” You again sighed when Derek offered finger guns and a grin, a habit he’d picked up after watching a few too many seasons of some different television shows. “And I don’t think it is a good idea to split up.”

“Guy is harmless, roomie.” Derek said with a reassuring pat to your shoulder, on the not-injured side. “Doubt he’d do much more than gasp in offense if you insult his clothing or something.”

You vehemently disagreed for a short time, before eventually relenting. The faster you got this over with, the quicker you could return to your plan for the day.

And… you suppose you did want to ask Mr. Puzzles why he helped you, even if it had been done in a terrifying way, what with you going unconscious and all. You were unnerved that you couldn’t remember too much of your conversation with him yesterday before Mr. Puzzles brought you back home to your roommates. Even if nothing particularly bad had happened (apart from, you know, punching the broken glass and injuring yourself) the doctor’s words remained, however, about not letting Mr. Puzzles have his way. If you hadn’t latched into him like a limpet and refused to move, it was possible you might have even been left at that unfamiliar hospital.

Footsteps receding from you had you raising your head to see Derek and Rose go toward separate abandoned houses, slightly bigger than the one you were going to.

…you could do this.

There was a one in five chance that Mr. Puzzles would be in the house you were to check. For all you knew, your roommates might come across him before you even walked through the front door of this small one story house you now stood in front of.

A throbbing ache began to build up along your arm and hand.

Yup.

Better go get this over with before you had to go sit in the car and wait for the pain to fade with a low dose of pain killers you’d taken (uncertain how much you should have). With a deep breath, you slowly exhale as you walked up the steps to the front door, and cautiously opened it.

These houses hadn’t been lived in for some time, as all of them needed work done to the interior and exterior. The townspeople did the bare minimum to keep the houses from falling apart until funds could be gathered up in order to fix the houses up to be suitable for living in.

Reassured by having your phone again, which Rose had handed to you fully charged at the cafe, you felt a little less worried about going into an abandons house alone. It was a very nice small home, as you crossed the threshold as you gave the tiny foyer and the hall before you a quick once over. This might be one of the houses that needed the least amount of work; a partial plumbing revamp, a fresh coat of paint in some rooms, and appliances in the kitchen, if you remember correctly from one of the meetings you’d gone to. One of the many you’d gone to in order to report about it on you the podcast your ran with a few of your coworkers (and the dollar store clerk) on the second floor of the cafe.

A great little space, really, which had a very relaxing atmosphere.

You were stalling, as you had yet to move on from the tiny foyer. With a quick shake of your head, you begin your search of the small home. There was no one in the living room; there wasn't even any furniture, apart from an old tube TV that was on the floor, plugged into the wall. Cautiously, you approached it, and turned the TV on.

Or tried to.

Nothing happened.

No power.

You warily eyed the TV before moving on.

The kitchen was empty and so was the first bedroom, with a layer of dust covering the floor. The bathroom was void of any activity, which left only the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Pausing uncertainly in front of the door, you summon up your courage (this wasn’t some horror movie) and let yourself into the room, grasping onto the doorknob, as if ready to slam it shut.

You found Mr. Puzzles, who currently lie prone on a dusty blanket on a bed that was comically small compared to his height. Cringing at the thought of glass shards in his face, you dimly wonder again if Mr. Puzzles had an actual tube TV for a head.

That wasn’t possible, right?

You don’t think you could fully accept such an outlandish idea at this moment in time.

Stalling, again.

With a cautious few steps forward, you approached the bed, before reaching out to Mr. Puzzles’ closest shoulder to give it a quick finger tap.

No response.

You frowned down at his back, noticing that he still wore the same clothing from yesterday. Then, you stare harder at his back.

What in the broad shoulders, chest and narrow waist was going on with Mr. Puzzles?

Who had those kind of proportions in real life anyway.?

Shaking your head and huffing out an impatient breath, you gave the sleeping man a hard shake to the shoulder. You stopped just short of rapping him on the back of the TV.

You find your gaze wandering down the line of Mr. Puzzles body again to that trim waist, and scowled when you noticed. With an impatient, harder shake and squeeze to Mr. Puzzles shoulder (why was this man so built in his  upper arms. Why did the skin and muscle beneath the dress shirt feel so weird?) Mr. Puzzles finally gave signs of life.

By scaring the shit out of you from going from completely unresponsive to releasing a loud, unhappy groan of protest.

Mr. Puzzles weakly gave his arm a shake to try and retrieve it from your grasp.

From the increasing franticness of the action, and the weird static noises emitting from the TV, you hastily let go in response. You also backed away while keeping a wary eye on Mr. Puzzles as the man finished (presumably) waking up. He even appeared to struggle for a moment with what to do with his head.

It must have been painful, from the occasional hisses of pain and uneven breaths.

Where even was the breathing coming from?

Mr. Puzzles moved himself bit by bit, his hands up by his neck as he carefully turned onto his side to face you. The screen flickered for a moment with static, right before a face appeared on it. Facsimile eyes of different colors and a technicolor smile, like yesterday. Mr. Puzzles gave off the impression he was still waking up as he stared at you (or seemed to), the screen switching to a look of sleepy confusion. When he noticed that he was, in fact, not imagining your presence in the room, Mr. Puzzles screen became a calculating expression, clearly recognizing you.

You notice the look as the one he wore on the screen yesterday, right before you’d thrown a blanket over the TV. Recalling what he may have been planning (a tv dimension wasn’t real, surely you imagined that part) which caused you to slowly back away a bit. All the way to be in line with the open bedroom door, in order to give yourself a chance to run for it if need be.

Mr. Puzzles studied you with this expression for a moment longer before it switched to a cartoon hand offering you a wave. Then, he groaned again and shuffled himself, still bracing his neck gingerly as he, in a painfully slow motion, settled onto his back. The screen became a pair of eyes and a flat smile.

At least, that was what it looked like to you, from the angle you stood at, well away from the bed and any possible lunging from the long-legged man who’d moved ridiculously fast in that hospital room.

“This is an unexpected wake up call.” A rough, deeper voice than yesterday commented. “Quite delightful, to have some company.” A sigh issued out, the screen flickered, and a sound like a throat clearing came out of the TV. Mr. Puzzles’ voice pitched to something a bit higher, more mellow, as you’d heard from him yesterday as he chuckled. “Rather scandalous, though, don’t you think?” Mr. Puzzles waved the hand not currently bracing his neck as he sagged into a circle of pillows. “Coming into someone else’s home without so much as a knock on the door or a hello? How terribly rude of you.”

“Ruder than taking someone who ended up unconscious through mysterious means and was taken to an equally mysterious location, without that someone’s permission.” You retorted, tensing up when Mr. Puzzles used his other hand to gingerly move the TV just enough that he could presumably see you.

“Touché, my dear, you make a good point.” Mr. Puzzles’ screen flickered to a massively wide smile up the edges, and delighted upturned eyes. “A shame you weren’t around last night.”

“Meaning?”  You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You seem more approachable than your roommates with their horrendous way of treating strangers.” Mr. Puzzles somehow managed to emulate a delicate sniff before his crazed look returned as he studied you like he could figure out why that was just by staring at you and the way you were now possessively clinging to the doorway. “Now, now, there’s no need to be so wary, friend.”

“I think you need to know someone a little more than a weird chat and dance in that hospital and a one-sided conversation with me and my roommates before you can claim someone is a friend.” You pointed out, proud of yourself for keeping any shakiness out of your voice from the way Mr. Puzzles raptly kept his attention on you.

“Is that so?” He asked after a moment.

“To me, yes.” You wagged a finger at him. “Just introducing yourself doesn’t count.”

“I see.” Mr. Puzzles mused. “This is quite the interesting place already.” The screen continued to unfortunately be remain on that unsettling grin and bigger facsimile eyes that seemed to focus in on you. He seemed to notice your unease, however, as the screen went to static for a moment before it went to a neutral multi-colored smile and less insane looking eyes.

Calculating again.

You watched as Mr. Puzzles carefully yet dramatically stretched out over the small bed that didn’t fit his lanky frame. Legs hung off the bed as Mr. Puzzles’ arms moved.

What was he up to?

Mr. Puzzles, his screen still facing you, raised a hand to lie it delicately over top of the TV. The expression on the screen had shifted to a sly grin, digital eyes looking in your direction.

“Bur back to coming into someone’s room unannounced.” Mr. Puzzles tentatively moved the hand at his neck to lightly place to his chest as he lifted a leg just so in order to rest his foot on the bed. He pressed the back of his hand to the TV harder as he let out a despairing sigh. “Have you come here to finish what your roommates started? Or are you going to comfort me for the traumatizing experience?”

“This place is abandoned.” You deadpan, watching this strange man as he adjusted his position again. “And what exactly are you talking about?”

“They didn’t tell you.” Mr. Puzzles dropped the theatrics as he turned his TV head toward you again (rather gingerly, you note) to fic you with a curious, then conspiratorial, look. “The work or die choice was rather unexpected, I must say.” Then, a mutinous mutter. “A trash compactor was certainly not on the radar. I would love nothing more than to never see such a thing ever again in my life.”

“Your, uh, shirt collar is getting stained. Your dress shirt too.” You pointed out, not knowing what Mr. Puzzles was alluding to regarding your roommates. You’d have to ask Rose and Derek later. Seeing alarm flash across Mr. Puzzles’ screen you asked, uncertainly. “Are you…okay? Did the shards of glass on that TV screen cut you while you were lying face down?”  While you weren’t exactly happy that this stranger had been in your closet (there was no way he was the same TV crashing into the house, it couldn’t be true) you were at least empathetic toward others.

“Oh, that. It’s…nothing to be worried about.”Mr. Puzzles hastily pressed a hand back over his neck, fingers curving around to hide it further. He tapped the fingers of his other hand on a knee, before he gingerly sat up on the bed. “I will take care of it and be ready to go to that cafe, as per my agreement with your incredibly devious roommates.” Mr. Puzzles made a shooing motion at you with the same free hand, his three fingers flexing while his thumb held in place while making said motion.

You stared at him, particularly at the one finger less on his hand.

“What is it?” Mr. Puzzles stared back, fingers dropping to tap an increasingly nervous tattoo against his thigh. “Is there something else out of place?”

“Your antenna are lying flat..” You manage to say, faintly, mind unfortunately locked on the missing finger, and wondering if you’d noticed that yesterday.

Surely you had, right?

“Out, out with you right this instsnt.” Said TV antenna flicked before almost fastidiously putting themself back to how they’d been yesterday (the bent one did not straight out).

What was your life today?

Mr. Puzzles eyed you a moment longer before releasing a somewhat exasperated sigh as he stood up from the bed.

Wow, you’d forgotten how tall he was.

Huh.

You guess the panic of seeing a strange men with a tv over his head (that was what you were sticking to, for your current peace of mind) in your closet had been enough of a distraction. 

“I really must put myself together for the company I am expected to be in.” I am not at all prepared.” Mr. Puzzles pointed to himself.  “Look at the sight of me! I’m a mess! I can’t possibly put on a show like this!”

He looked the same to you as yesterday, minus what worrying sight of what looked like blood trickling over the gloved fingers pressed to his neck.

“If I must do this…’job’, and be subjected to other’s gazes despite the state I’m in, then this will take a little more time.” Mr. Puzzles screen flashed to something almost…self conscious? “If you would allow a little privacy, and not come in this room again, I will be ready to leave once I am finished. Off you go now.”

You are gently, yet swiftly? shooed out the door by Mr. Puzzles after you didn’t move quick enough out of his temporary ‘bedroom’. It’s a weird sensation, to briefly have someone’s hands bigger than your own practically cover up both your shoulders and shoulder blades.

Then, the touch was gone.

So, there you were, lingering in the hallway, and wondering what exactly Mr. Puzzles meant by his words. As far as you could tell, the man was dressed exactly as he had been yesterday.

Why had he said ‘put myself together’ with such an odd inflection in his voice?

Mr. Puzzles doesn’t make you wait for long.

“That’s much better.” Mr. Puzzles exited the room with unnecessary flair while adjusting his bowtie. He flashed the soon to be very familiar technicolor smile at you. “I suppose the two of us should go locate your lively roommates before they get any new ideas.”

You honestly don’t know what to say to that.

Mr. Puzzles was already confidently walking toward the front of the house, anyway, so you followed, belatedly remembering you wanted to ask him a question. “Hey.”

”Hm?” Mr. Puzzles half-turned his body back to you. 

Wow.

Flexible much?

”Why did you help me, after I punched you for being in my closet? I got the impression we didn’t exactly get along in that moment and should have gone out delegate ways.” You don’t particularly know how to feel about the ellipses crossing the screen, before a closed off expression appeared.

”You don’t know?” Mr. Puzzles asked, for some reason voice void of emotion.

”Would I ask if I did?” You shot back, uncertain why the tone had your defenses raise.

“No, you wouldn’t.” The annoyingly smug grin reappeared as Mr. Puzzles turned back to the door. He opened it, and stepped to one side. Infuriatingly, Mr. Puzzles said nothing more about your question. He seemed to notice your ire, but Mr. Puzzles merely offered a bit of a dramatic bow to you. Flashing a wide, entertained technicolor smile, Mr. Puzzles gestured with an unnecessary sweep of his hand toward to the now open front door.

“I thought we were going to go find Rose and Derek?” You questioned as you cautiously approached.

“We are.” His voice dropped to a deep whisper as he leaned over to be more level with your face. “Is there a reason you’re not leaving the house?”

“No?” A question, because you were well-aware you couldn’t hear your roommates.

“Then off we go.” Mr. Puzzles’ voice sounded raspy in the continued whispering as the screen flickered between the smile and the rather crazed one you’d glimpsed earlier. The man straightened up, TV screen turned directly toward you, as Mr. Puzzles offered another bow and sweep of his hand to the open doorway. “After you, my dear.”

Chapter Text

This just wouldn’t do.

The way that you watched me with such a wary expression as you exited the empty house before I was troubling. It meant that you were was very well aware that you were likely suspicious of me and my intentions, due to your brief stint with me in my mind. I was well aware of this now, especially with the careful way you walked past me, gaze locked on me with that wariness.

I would have to remedy this view of me.

Why would I bother?

It was simple.

You appeared less likely to threaten me (apart from throwing that punch), while your ever so rude roommates had. Not only that, but they’d also gone and done it while I wasn’t at my best.

So deviously smart of them.

I couldn’t help but approve and admire the ultimatum they’d given me.

And all for the sake of friend’s best interest, with what little information Derek and Rose had of me (none of which were flattering).

Admirable, yet a problem for me.

No matter.

I could simply change your perception of me, by acting accordingly to no longer draw suspicions that I may attempt to pull some ‘trick.’

For the time being?

I needed to be aware and in the moment.

I did my upmost to set aside any lingering aches and pains within my neck. This current situation required my full attention. This meant that I had to put on a showman persona and put forth both confidence and take in stride this unexpected turn my life had taken. I flashed you a cheesy digital smile before I began to pace along the porch while I pondered. I also kept an eye on you as you went to go lean on a railing, presumably to wait for your roommates to show up to regroup. I assumed your presence, as well as rose and Derek’s, meant that the three of you were here to take me to the cafe.

Your phone was out; you must be communicating with your roommates.

I sidled up to you with an air of nonchalance, studying you before speaking.  "Your phone's appearance is different than what I've seen before."  I refrained from tilting my head.  "What use is it, apart from communication?" My face flashed to a frown.  "I didn’t see any functioning televisions in your shared home, other than one that didn’t seem to work."  Noting a flash of a smirk from you, I wagged a finger at you. "I do not count myself in that, by the way."

You did something on the phone, sound suddenly coming out of it as you turned the screen up toward me.

"You don't mind?" I asked, without words pointing out that I'd have to half loom over you to see the tiny screen.

"It's...fine."

Hm.

Not the best assurance, but I'd take it as a starting point.

I leaned over, hands on my knees, somewhat intrigued by the small screen that held your world's version of a livestream on it. I watched for a few moments then scoffed at the content. "How dull and lifeless. What kind of interview was that?" My face made a disgusted look.  "What an utterly appalling performance. Someone ought to write a better script for them to follow." I fell silent upon hearing what sounded like a muffled laugh from you, which made me perk up.

It had been...some time since someone had directly laughed at something I had said, then when I had others around me to bring the laughter and attention.

I wonder...

Would I be able to get in front of a live studio audience? Is that not so impossible here as I initially believed it to be (not that I’d had much time to think of such things in the past day or so). Was it possible for me to regain my powers more quickly than I anticipated I might be able to here?

Before I could test the theory, what with you being wary of me with your hunched shoulders (which may be a barrier) your roommates made their appearance by greeting you with a loud shout.

“Hey there roomie!” Derek waved. “Looks like you found the TV man!”

“He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Rose added in with a wave of her own.

I didn’t listen to your response as I discreetly scooted closer to you while keeping a wary eye out for any dastardly magnets or other materials that might interfere with my beautiful metal head in my weakened state. I didn’t see anything but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t reason for concern.

I would not drop my guard after the trash compactor threat.

Thankfully, and luckily, none of the three of you held a candle to the chaotically frustrating person Mario was when it came to ruining my plans.

That pesky plumber!

Oh, how I despised Mario for being the key to making my beautiful plans become ugly ruins with his interference, and after I’d finally gotten my five stars!

I would have it again!

I would have it all again once I was back to full strength.

I would show Smg4 and the others to not dismiss me so easily.

I had control of them for a short time, yes, but oh what a feeling to have had all that power and control over a show of my own; one I'd planned to share with everyone, only to have it all ruined.

As inconvenient as being punted into a parallel world to my own, I was confident in my ability to play along.

For now.

I noted that you’d turned to regard me in silence, so I tilt my head in return to offer as dramatic a shrug as I could your way. I was uninterested in visiting exactly what led your roommates to be so protective of you against me, let alone how brutish they were in gaining my cooperation.

Setting that aside…

"I did not realize so much time had already passed." I straightened up to my full height and greeted Rose and Derek, surely confusing you over how quickly I was acting as if nothing had happened in the room that you’d found me in. Quite embarrassing, really, to be seen in such a predicament. One not entirely yet resolved but that was a private matter for me to attend to.  "Are you lot here to bring me to the cafe directly?" I asked, arms behind my back as I pretended to not be in as much pain as I was. “That would be very kind of you to do so.” I finished smoothly.

“You’re not trying to get out of it?” Rose questioned with a doubtful expression.

“Who, me? Perish the thought.” I placed a hand delicately on my chest, over my heart as I let slip an offended noise. “Of course I won’t try to ‘get out of it.’ Derek and you successfully wrangled an agreement out of me with such skillful persuasion in a wonderful performance that I couldn’t help but see it through.”

“You just didn’t want to be consigned to the trash compactor.” Derek bluntly pointed out.

I crossed my arms and refused to say anything to that as my screen settled on a dark expression with a frown.

“C’mon, we should get back before Tiffany thinks the zombies got us.” You told your roommates in a wry manner.

“Zombies?” I made a face. “Such uncouth creatures.”

“There aren’t actually any here.” You assured me as you stepped past me to join your roommates.

“I suppose that’s a small mercy.” I shuddered to think what could have happened should such a thing happens when dealing with Smg4 and the others. It seemed the kind of thing to happen to that crew of theirs, especially with Mario around. No doubt that plumber would have found a way to summon such creatures to further dash my hope of retaining those five-star ratings.  I was silent, following after you, until I caught sight of the car the group intended to take me to this cafe in. I came up short while I studied the machine with great scrutiny. Then, I pointed an incredulous finger at it. “How am I supposed to fit inside such a small vehicle?”

“You can try and run after the car to keep up, or you can scrunch yourself up in the backseat, buttercup.” Rose offered while opening the passenger door.

“There will be no familiar nicknames shared between us.” I said tartly, arms still crossed while I glowered at the woman. “Especially not after you and Derek threatened my beautiful face with a trash compactor!”

“Better get into the car then, or I’ll come up with something unflattering!” Rose tossed back.

I couldn’t help but allow further annoyance flash over my face but swiftly switched it out for a more neutral one when I saw you turn to look at me. Offering another little bow with a flourish of my hand to the car, I decided to cover my slip-up by allowing you to choose the side you got into the car. Derek had claimed the driver’s seat, leaving you to be in the back with me. Hiding an amused expression over the death glare you sent your roommates as you got into the car, I sauntered forward as though I were getting into a limousine just for me (that would also have had more leg room for me). Opening the door, I again despaired at having to ruin my perfectly tailored outfit and muss it up further in order to cram myself into the smaller than expected space.

As anticipated, my legs were bent up uncomfortably as I hunkered down the best I could, so as to not block the rear-view window. Turning my head just so, I quietly watched as you buckled up, before inwardly groaning as I attempted to do up the belt on my own when it wasn’t meant to buckle in someone of my stature. But I buckled up in any case, bending my spine in ways it protested here versus home.

How inconvenient.

I could only hope that dissipated with time. Any further pressure on my neck would be worse, so my spine would just have to suffer a minor kink in what was sure to be a short drive. So long as there were no crashes to be had, I would be perfectly fine and be able to later stretch out in a space where eyes weren’t on me. As the car drove off, my hands curled up on my thighs, twisting into the fabric of my pants.

You were looking at me again, and not too subtlety, either, as if thinking my peripherals were not as good as your own.

I was briefly distracted by the morning light, a beam of it falling over me from the window as I turned my head to look outside. It was something I normally didn’t witness, as distracted as I tended to become while wrapped up in my productions. Had you not let out a near inaudible gasp, I might have remained in place, watching the sky and soon, the town. However, I heard, and my attention fell on you once more. But I didn’t have to speak to know what it was you were currently looking at with what appeared to be concern.

My neck.

Or rather, what was left of it beneath where it connected to the television head of mine.

Now that I was paying attention to my own body again, I noted that there was a warmth that shouldn’t have been there, around where the thick wires and fabric wrapped about the remains of my cervical vertebrae. I was bleeding again, even though I'd been certain I'd stopped it before leaving that abandoned house not ten minutes ago!  In discomfort now, I face my head forward, but with a slight tilt to indicate I was looking at you, and even made my expression one to double the effect. I silently pleaded for you to not point out this imperfection, this unsightliness, that I had never had to deal with since placing this new head of mine on.

Warily, I track the way you study me with a tilt to your head in turn, but thankfully, you seem to understand, as you face forward. My shoulders had tensed up during this time, and once I was certain of you not saying anything of my appearance, my posture relaxed. I did, however, slowly raise a shaky hand up to press over my neck and the area where the blood had welled up, unable to prevent a slightly tremble. Lost in thought over the implications of my body bleeding like this, I didn’t even realize that we’d arrived at our destination in very little time. I could certainly walk it, and likely would going forward, as being crammed into this small of a vehicle was very unpleasant even with the short amount of time in it.

The cafe was on the smaller side, so it was not a franchise, but owner owned.

How quaint.

This was very small town coded to me.

Now, if the interior of the cafe matched the rest of the town in its charm, why, this would be such a good location for one of those hallmark romances-

“C’mon, tv man, chop chop!” Derek said, muffled, as he knocked on the backseat window.

I did not dignify that with an answer as I realized I was the only one that remained within the car. I slipped out and stretched up to my full height, relieved to not be curled up in that backseat any longer. By the time I finished scrutinizing the cafe, your roommates had already entered the building, leaving you awkwardly lingering outside.  It was as if you were not sure what to do about me and perhaps whether or not you could get into the building without me being close behind.

Hmm.

Like I thought before, troubling. I definitely had some damage control to do. I needed at least one person that…ugh, tolerated me (I didn’t want to just be tolerable) to be able to find my way in this world until I regained my strength. My fingers sparked slightly, but luckily went unnoticed by you. It would take some time to recover the strength I had before. My current miserable state faded into the background as I entered the cafe, stooping to avoid hitting myself in the face with the doorframe.

An immeidate hush fell over the interior of the cafe.

I preened visibly as I adjusted my bowtie and flashed a winning smile across my face. I'd garnered quite the attention from the patrons of this place. I loved this feeling, of having all eyes on me. And this was curiosity, not fear! Oh, I just couldn’t help but offer a cheerful wave as I moved with a hop in my step as I made my way over to where you, Derek and Rose were speaking in hushed tones with who I assumed was this cafe’s owner, Tiffany.

What a vibrant presentation of dress, subtle makeup and necklace!

I greeted everyone with a vibrant expression and another little wave.  Internally, I wondered what exactly I was to be doing here, apart from customer service, obviously. I would certainly be a dream for customers as either a cashier or a maker of the drinks. I could even provide some entertainment if there were little trivia nights or karaoke or something of the like here. But I wasn’t too hopeful for a good use of my devilishly handsome face and talents when I witnessed you and the other three exchanged glances with one another before nodding as if in agreement to-

“Busboy.”

“Excuse me?!” I gasped, offended as I raised a hand and let it flop over forward with fingers down before turning the hand to place delicately to my chest. “Did you say busboy?”

Tiffany appeared amused by me, which I did not care for, but at least she didn’t laugh at my very justifiable offense. She merely hummed thoughtfully while looking me over before darting to the back of the cafe. She returned carrying an apron, gloves that might fit me (it had four fingers, though) and a visor hat.

Ugh, how appalling.

These accessories would clash with my perfectly acceptable attire, yet I grudgingly accepted the items and held perfectly in place while Tiffany poked my suspenders.

“You lose these while workin’, hun. Don’t want to get them caught on something.” Tiffany told me. She then indicated my bow tie with a raised brow. “You can keep that if you’re goin’ for that dapper look.”

“Very well.” I sighed, my expression exceedingly dissatisfied. “And it is not ‘a look.’ This is just how I dress.”

“Men’s room in the back." Tiffany responded. "Gonna have you learn on the job, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up just fine.”

“Am I detecting a hint of sarcasm?" I couldn’t help but ask. “I am perfectly capable of such work, even if it isn’t the best use of my-“

Tiffany pinned me with a glower that was quite impressive, as it spoke volumes without a word.

“I’m going, I’m going.” I swap to a cheery smile, though it was likely one of the strained visages as I jovially headed for the men’s bathroom in the back of the cafe. “I’ll be out shortly!” The moment I was in the bathroom alone, I allowed a full scowl and furrowed brows over eyes to express themselves on my face over how poorly this was already going. Even a brief glance into the mirror over the sink made me grimace over the poor condition of my neck, but after some adjustments, I was able to ensure that fabric covered it.

There!

Now it looked like there’d been no sign If had any problems at all! Certainly not the bleeding kind, nor being short of breath. I had never experienced either of these ailments back home. It was concerning, considering that I only a needed oxygen to my heart and through what blood remained in me to keep up the semblance of regular human insides; nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps it was a result from my crash landing into this world? Would the pain and such resolve itself once I’d fully recovered from that experience. That it was merely wear and tear I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of and not something worse I had to be concerned over.

Reluctantly, I unclipped my suspenders while making certain the belt around waist was cinched properly. Then, I nearly put the apron on (a hideously boring beige/white combination yet with a pattern of cartoonish croissants). With a quick motion I tied a neat knot with a perfect bow in the back, face flickering to a cowl as I stared at the visor. Huffing out a static sigh, I picked up the visor to settle it over the bowler hat already there and looked in the mirror.

I looked utterly ridiculous.

Turning in front of the mirror, I eventually relented and had to admit to myself that it wasn't too bad, recalling the fairy godmother outfit in my Puzzlevision shows. Was there a chance I could pull this off without becoming a laughingstock of the patrons of this cafe, who would no doubt recognize me outside of said cafe? Another quick glance in the mirror, I made a cheerful, if strained, smile again, before it became a frustrated one.

How simply dreadful this was.

Not the outfit, but the position I was expected to fill in this cafe.

A slightly manic, multicolored grin flickered into existence.

I would preserve.

This was but a small obstacle.

There were some ideas already forming as I took into consideration that I had ended up in what could potentially be an interesting little town.

Away from Smg4 and his crew’s interference.

A crazed expression surely took over as my antenna twitched up and my head shook a little as I hunched my shoulders. I started to laugh, softly, aware that anyone could enter the men’s bathroom at any time.

But oh, the thought was a wonderful thing.

I was temporarily free of Smg4 and his annoying friends, and in particular, Mario.

”Yes.” I let the word drag out as I let a sinister laugh out, hands clasping together in sudden glee. “Oh yes, that’s right! I won’t have any interference with my creativity here!” Once I felt more like myself, I’d explore my options. Manic if elated laughed slipped out of me at the possibility of working on my shows in peace, a realistic face on screen with darting eyes. As I allowed the previous fury at being launched through the air dissipate with this unexpected gift I only just now could fully appreciate, I was unaware of the way Derek slipped away from the open bathroom door.

Once I’d calmed, I straightened all of my clothes out, fixed my bow tie, and left the bathroom with a confident smile fixed on my face. Nothing could possibly ruin the rest of my day with the revelation I’d just had.

Apart, of course, from everyone in the cafe staring at me, and not in the kind of way I appreciated being looked at.

I couldn’t prevent a simulated blush from rising on my face. Apparently, my laughter turned out to have not been as muffled as I thought. With a quick sound of a clearing throat while shakily offering my best technicolor smile, I stepped forward while turning up the charm. "I am ready for whatever this ‘busboy’ position entails.” 

Chapter Text

It was kind of a relief to you that there was no animosity between your boss, Tiffany, and Mr. Puzzles; you’d take the teasing over ill will.

But really…

What in the world were your roommates thinking, suggesting that the man wearing a tv for a head work here?

Where you also worked.

Well, maybe not for a little while, unless you found out at the doctor appointment today that you were clear to work. A twinge in your arm made you think it wouldn’t be that simple, but the limb definitely didn’t hurt as much as it had before.

”Where’d you find the tall guy?” Tiffany asked, stepping over to the counter to presumably wait for Mr. Puzzles to come back from the men's bathroom.

"He kind of just appeared out of the blue.” Violently and straight through the roof of the house. You’re not certain whether or not to bring up the whole closet thing or if your roommates possibly did. Luckily, or unluckily, for you or for Mr. Puzzles, the answer was left as such as the man himself came back out of the bathroom (after dramatically laughing in the bathroom, for some reason).

Mr. Puzzles approached the counter, fiddling with his outfit like it had somehow become unmanageable now that he had to incorporate other items that didn’t precisely match the aesthetic of his outfit originally.

But before you saw exactly how it clashed, or not, you noticed that Mr. Puzzles had garnered attention again like when he had first entered the cafe. Only right now, people were staring for longer now that the man was wearing some of the cafe’s ‘work’ uniform.

Sort of.

Looking closer, you see that Mr. Puzzles had the apron on, and it was ridiculous when paired with the formal wear beneath. And Mr. Puzzles had made the decision to leave on his hat, and just put the visor over it, giving it more the appearance of a baseball cap. His gloves were exchanged for the ones your boss gave him. Mr. Puzzles seemed nervous and annoyed at the same time, based off the flickering expressions on the screen. There was something that looked a bit different from before, apart from the apron and all.  You realized that it was because Mr. Puzzles also didn’t appear have any signs of the blood you’d seen earlier, where those black cables were around his neck.

Mr. Puzzles’ left hand rested lightly on his opposite arm, tapping a few fingers on the upper part of the arm as he spoke aloud once close enough to Tiffany.

"I am ready for whatever this ‘busboy’ position entails.” 

Interestingly, the cheer of the dual-colored digital eyes and a patient-looking technicolor smile appeared to be almost forced, as the man with the tv on his head turned to face your boss directly.

While Mr. Puzzles and Tiffany discussed what she wanted him to do for the day, you checked your phone to see how long you had until going to the doctor appointment.

Two hours.

You could stick around here for a little while, always one for the ambience the cozy cafe gave off. Plus, you presumed that Derek or Tiffany were going to give you a ride to the doctor despite it not being that far away from the cafe.

It was a smaller town, after all.

-x-

The next hour and a half was deeply amusing to you. 

Resting in a booth at the front of the cafe, you watched Mr. Puzzles begin to suffer through his first shift but also, weirdly enough, thrive off any conversation he could strike up while also doing the work given to him by Tiffany. Mr. Puzzles hadn’t attempted to come talk to you, either because he didn’t have any reason to approach you, or because he was avoiding you due to the fact you’d caught sight of the blood on his neck while in the car earlier.

Your boss had briefly joined you at the booth to discuss what you could do at the cafe, and agreed to check back once you got a better idea how your arm was healing after the doctor’s visit. That appointment came a lot sooner than anticipated, as Rose eventually popped up at your booth to take you out of the cafe. Apparently, she had the day off, and therefore, appointed herself your driver for the day.

Pain began to slowly trickle back in, giving time a funny meaning as you became distracted by the ache in your arm.

Thankfully, the doctor’s visit wasn’t very long.  But you pay attention long enough during that time that you happened to get a good look at the stitches, and the bruising. Thankfully, the doctor didn't press with too many questions.  That was good, because you weren't sure how to explain why you’d punched Mr. Puzzles in the broken tv screen, and stupidly pulled it back out, injuring both your forearm and your hand.  It was a relief to learn from the doctor that the stitches looked professionally done, and that there didn't appear to be any sign of infection, which was also good news. After new bandages were wrapped up around arm, wrist and hand, you were given an amount of medicine to take for any pain that lingered. Before leaving, you even scheduled another appointment two weeks from now, to check on the injury's progress, and possibly remove the stitches by then.

It was kind of a blur, to be honest.

The whole visit was.

Possibly because of the aching pain, but also likely due to the fat that you were lost in thought about a certain tall lanky man currently working your shift in the cafe, a man whom you and others knew very little about.

Luckily, the doctor must have noticed the spaced-out expression you presumably had, so the visit was printed off on paper for you to look over later, with more details and reminders than you usually got.

Thoughts of Mr. Puzzles diminished once you and Rose returned home, and Rose received a call that a roofing company was able to come out the next day to take a look and see if they could fix the roof or if it was going to take the whole roof being redone to properly fix the damage. 

And after that?

Rose left to go pick Derek up on the other side of town later in the day, leaving you to your own devices.

You should not have been left to your own devices, because you couldn’t have picked a worse time to go check the mail.

-x-

The mail wasn’t there yet.

Even you knew that it was still to early in the day for it to arrive, if it weren’t delayed by a day or two, that is.

You should have just gone back into the house, but instead, you just kind of…stared unseeingly at the mailbox at the end of the driveway, as if you’d asked it a question and were just waiting for a response.

One would not come.

Apparently, when you were in pain, you were a bit of a space case, and you ought to get yourself back inside before anyone saw you standing there like an idiot.  Wouldn’t it be wild if Mr. Puzzles somehow found his way back to your and your roommates' house and-

“Is there something particularly interesting about this mailbox, my dear?”

Speak of the devil and he will appear, you guessed.

Steeling yourself for potential mind games with the way he acted before, you turned to face Mr. Puzzles, only to jerk backwards in surprise.

The man was just…there, leaning on the mailbox with an arm, stooped over a bit to be closer to eye level with you. The television screen was showing an amused colorful smile and scrunched up eyes practically looking you in your eyes.

When had Mr. Puzzles gotten there?

Why hadn’t you heard his footsteps when he approached?

Where you really that out of it that you weren’t paying better attention to your surroundings?

That wasn’t good, if that was the case. 

“I assume since you do not have any mail in hand, nothing has arrived yet.” Mr. Puzzles’ expression flicked between the amused one and one that almost appeared concerned, with the furrowed marks in the screen and at the edges of the smile downturned as his digital eyebrows make it seem like that. “You’ve been standing there for at least ten minutes. I could have come up with a rough draft of an idea of a show to produce in that time.” The tv flickered to something a little eerie in nature as Mr. Puzzles regarded you. “I could have brought you to that hospital you were at before, you know, to the doctor who’d treated that injury.”

”Not after the warning the doc gave me, I wouldn’t.” You replied, absently holding your bandaged arm to your chest. Thinking quickly, you attempt to divert this impromptu conversation away from yourself. “So, how was your first shift at work?”

”…I’m only three-quarters through the shift.” Mr. Puzzles said stiffly, an annoyed look replacing the eerie one. “I was told to actually take a ‘lunch break’, even though I informed Tiffany that I don’t need to eat. At least not in a way that a normal human does.” Mr. Puzzles didn’t seem to like having to say that as he scowled down at the grass beneath his feet.

”And you’re back here, why?” You asked, taking a single step back and to the side to put the mailbox between you and Mr. Puzzles, for all the good it would do. He wasn’t going to be blocked by just a post and small rectangular box; you honestly weren’t sure what to think of Mr. Puzzles, really, apart from him being a little…different, than you were used to people being.

Not necessarily a bad thing.

It was more that you and your roommates had had him careen into your home, lurk in your closet, and then the whole ‘what the heck’ moment that happened in the first hospital. And then later, to be in that weird place floating as Mr. Puzzles brought you back home.

You still wondered if that had been a dream.

”Oh, nothing too serious. I just wanted to have a quick word about what you saw, before your roommates brought us all to that lovely little cafe.” Mr. Puzzles said rather cheerily, absently adjusting his bow tie.

“Did you…mean to walk all the way here wearing that?” You asked, unable to help it when you noticed he was still wearing the cute apron with little pasty details.

”Yes.” Mr. Puzzles simulated a sniff as he straightened up from leaning hunched against the mailbox. “But we are speaking about what you saw in the-“

”I didn’t see anything!” You hastily cut in without thinking to hear the whole statement. “I need to get back inside and take some pain killers. I’ll see you at the cafe, if Tiffany lets me work with this.” Proffering your arm in emphasis, you’re prepared to walk backwards toward the door, still wary.

However, it seemed that Mr. Puzzles picked up on your nervousness around him.

Only displaying a hint of disappointment, either through your reaction to him, or denial of seeing the blood, Mr. Puzzles ended up being the one to leave first, walking off down the sidewalk. It was decidedly less animated than before, but it was also kind of a surprise, just how quickly Mr. Puzzles could move along for such a tall man.

Once he rounded a street corner, you sighed.

Conversations while in pain were difficult.

Sending a dour look the mailbox’s way, as if it had made that meet-up between you and Mr. Puzzles, you turned and went back toward the house. As you walk, there was another conversation coming back to the front of your mind that you only vaguely recalled now. 

The tv that was over Mr. Puzzles head.

Or rather, Mr. Puzzles claiming that he’d replaced his head with a television set.

But…there’d been blood, when you found him in that house at the edge of town.

Was it possible that Mr. Puzzles was harming himself by putting a hollowed-out television over his head? Because if that was the case, then why hadn’t he addressed it with you, Derek and Rose, before bringing him to the cafe? When he just walked up to you moments before, was Mr. Puzzles trying to explain what you’d seen?  Should you have let him say whatever it was he’d planned to say, instead of cutting him off and acting as if you hadn’t seen the blood and discomfort in his tall frame, and the flash of possible pain crossing the screen of the tv? As you reach the porch, you decided that, if Mr. Puzzles brought it up again, you’d let him say his piece. Instead of, you know, jumping to conclusions about why he might have wanted to bring it up with you, the only person that had noticed it. Hand reaching out, you grasp the door handle and open it up.

Or at least, you attempted to, before realizing quite quickly that you’d accidentally locked yourself out of the house.

Oh, and your cellphone was inside.

Joy.

At least it was a nice day out, and you could always go pester one of your neighbors if you were really that bored, instead of waiting…a couple of hours.

Wait.

There was a spare key hidden somewhere around.

The next half hour was spent rooting through the bushes and around the house until you finally found said key. Right before you went inside, you could have sworn you heard static, but when you looked around, there was nothing, not even in the house with your slightly-now working television set in the living room.

Huh.

That was weird.

You hoped that it was nothing to worry about.

-x-

Over the next week, you’d been able to work three half days that same week, and during those times, you noticed that Mr. Puzzles clearly wanted to approach you, but chose to keep his distance, as if recalling your discomfort by the mailbox from earlier that week.

it was a relief, in a way, as you didn’t want things to become awkward. 

After all, only you, Derek, Rose and Mr. Puzzles himself knew about the whole ‘being in your closet and you punching him in the face’ deal.

The other half of the week, you went upstairs above the café, to work on a podcast, with some of your coworkers and others.

Unbeknownst to you, this drew Mr. Puzzles’ curiosity but could have been explained away from the fact that it was you that Mr. Puzzles had spoken to first, compared to Rose, Derek, and your other coworkers here in the cafe. But still, he kept his distance, though you at times caught Mr. Puzzles watching you before quickly and sometimes awkwardly turning away to work, only for him to realize he wasn’t anywhere near where he needed to be to do that work.

How someone could both almost pratfall and then smoothly continue on as if nothing happened was rather impressive.

-x-

That week following Mr. Puzzles’ arrival in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty was actually much calmer than you anticipated it to be.

It also appeared to be the amount of time the man with a tv over his head needed in order to properly attempt to communicate with you instead of the awkward, almost painful to watch attempts at casual conversation the past two days.

As of Mr. Puzzles didn’t often talk to other people one on one.

But all those attempts seemed to help him build up the confidence and nerve to actually speak to you directly, instead of fidgeting or retreating without a word. 

Man was apparently ridiculously smooth when he wanted to be, though a little over the top, just like when you'd first met him.

Of course, you kind of figured out Mr. Puzzles liked his theatrics, from the way he spoke at times (and the hilarious time he laughed maniacally in the bathroom like he’d discovered the secrets of the world after changing into the cafe outfit his first day). 

Today, at the end of your shift, when you were heading upstairs to the podcast room, you ended up slipping and falling backwards after just three steps. You did not expect Mr. Puzzles to be right there to catch you, as if he’d been watching you again (like scooping up any heavy items with ease that you might have tried to pick up to show you were fine; your arm wasn’t that bad). With a harsh exhale as you flail backward with a leap of alarm shooting through you, you’re firmly caught. You recognized who had stopped your fall, from the very faint sensation of static along your hair.

Mr. Puzzles.

You were about to eek out an automatic 'thank you', when Mr. Puzzles decided to be dramatic.

”Are you all right?” Mr. Puzzles asked as he tipped you over a little more, as if he’d dipped you backward as part of a dance. The expression looking down at you from the screen was one of gleefulness, as if Mr. Puzzles was excited to finally get words out to you again, at least until he spoke again. “Are you falling for me already?” 

“Bury me under the staircase.” You deadpanned to the technicolor grin aimed your way, and actually went limp in Mr. Puzzles arms, which forced him to actually get a proper hold of you, and not drop you on the floor.

”Hm. Too dark.” Mr. Puzzles mused aloud, wearing a thoughtful look now. Then, it became mischievous with squinting eyes and a wide grin. “How about in the garden near my current lodgings?”

You slant the man a glare.

”No, you’re right, you’d likely haunt me.” Mr. Puzzles said amiably as he easily lifted you out of the dip and helped you back onto your feet.  Something like concern flickered as the tv over the man's head tilted to the side. “You are fine?”

”Yes, just a little shaken. Haven’t slipped down the stairs in a long time.” You notice the flinch Mr. Puzzles made at the wires around his neck almost...twitched, at the motion. “But I do trip up the stairs more often.”

“Maybe I should go up the stairs first, just in case.” Mr. Puzzles commented, straightening the tv back up without too much issue.

“I’ll be fine, go get back to it, busboy.” You actually reached out to pat Mr. Puzzles on his nearest shoulder, or rather, his upper arm. Man was so tall and lanky. “The dishes won’t bus themselves.” For just a moment, Mr. Puzzles seemed to be taken aback by your sudden, casual pat to his person. But it was gone in an instant as a strained smile and twitchy digital eyes settled as Mr. Puzzles current ‘face’.

”If only they did; I have so much more talent to offer than this.” Mr. Puzzles lamented, but as before, he appeared to catch on over your trepidation around him and turned to leave, presumably to check on the bins.

”Hey, Puzzles?” When you saw him glance over his shoulder, you voice is quieter when you speak. “Thank you, for catching me. That would have hurt a lot if I couldn’t prevent myself from falling over.”

There was a long pause, Mr. Puzzles’ screen face going through several different emotions before settling on one that you hadn’t seen yet. A softer look, somehow, without an overly manic smile or crazed gleam in the eyes, as Mr. Puzzles spoke softly in return.

”You’re quite welcome, my dear.”

Chapter Text

This was not how I saw my days being filled after my defeat at the hands of Smg4 and his crew.

Working in a cafe?

Being ordered around to clean up after customers and fetching things for the other employees?

The very thought of stooping so low made me grit non-existent teeth while I worked toward getting through my first shift.

Appalling.

Such a waste of my talents, as I’d let them all know before I’d begin my work. As ‘busboy’, no less, to make up for the work you could not do with your arm that needed more time to heal fully.

At least I was not near a large body of water but the sinks and such I gave suspicious glared to as if anticipating being splashed.

I shudder to think what would happen in the parallel world, were that to happen.

But I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was treated well, insomuch that I could guess based off the other workers. I’d even been given breaks, despite having no need to really eat or rest like everyone else. Though resting my neck did seem like a smart idea, so I didn’t argue about it. And the lunch break gave me an excuse to go try to speak to you again, after failing to do so while you’d still been in the cafe.

It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.

The interaction had been quite a disaster (in my opinion), which had caused me to retreat back to the cafe to continue work, but also to think about other ways to approach you. I needed to find a way that would make you not be so worried about being in my company, after our rather shaky first introduction.

I completed my work that I’d been given for the rest of the shift, with some tasks asked of me in-between. No one suspected or noticed the way I took in your other coworkers, their and different actions and the idle chatter. From the sound of it, I would need some time to myself to do some planning.

Plotting, if you will.

By the time I was helping to close down the cafe, by cleaning the tables off one last time, I had thought of a hint of an idea to pursue.  By the time I finished sweeping the floors with one other person, I had a short term plan to try to follow through with.

I wondered if I may be able to convince you to help me.

If only for something small, really.

It wouldn’t even involve more than just a friendly chat.

Perhaps you’d be able to point me to the direction of the nearest television station. Even outside of town would be acceptable, if there were none nearby. More importantly, I dearly hoped that you might be aware of any…extra electrical components or pieces of old discarded tech that I could make use of at the edge of town.

Nothing for anything nefarious, of course.

A twinge shot through my neck, causing me to wince and bring a careful hand there. My metal head twitched in response to one of the wires sliding beneath the cloth against spine.

That…hadn’t felt good, which was incredibly worrying.

I shouldn’t have felt it at all.

”You all done, tall dude?”

“I am.” My expression switched from pain and discomfort to a cheerful if weary flicking technicolor smile. I didn’t hear much of whatever the other person was saying, and felt a lot of relief when I could leave. Keeping up the cheery facade, I waved goodbye to those who were still in the cafe before taking my leave before I possibly began bleeding around the neck again.

I could feel it well up anyway.

This wasn’t good.

I’d say my highest priority was to find a way to keep myself together. As much as it pained the creative side of me, I’d have to keep thoughts of a television station on the back burner.

The blood continued to trickle, staining the black fabric around my neck. 

I exited the building, before anyone could say anything else, struggling to not just press my hand to my neck like I wanted to do. My walking became a jerky stride as the pain began to sink in.

…don’t think about the aches.

The pain.

Don’t think about the low burning agony, the sensation of blood trickling down my neck.

The shortness of breath.

I’d experienced both of these before the first time I’d replaced my head with the metal one I now had.

The pain, and the fear, that it wouldn’t work…being all alone and doing the attachments, the maintenance, myself. The thrill that it worked, then the eventual admission that I’d have to be very careful and keep up with maintenance, as I needed to be able to walk on my own legs and move my arms.

It hurt right now.

Back then, the flaring agony, the constant aches within my arms and legs until those, too, had been removed to be replaced by metal limbs and attached to what was left of my arms and legs.

I remembered…the tiny pinpricks of pain as I fortified my insides over time, to protect what was left of some of my organs.

The initial constant ache that lingered in my spine when I worked on that, coming back to me now in all its terrible agony.

It was lucky that I had already been done with work at the cafe and dismissed for the evening as I practically stumbled like a drunkard down the sidewalk.

I felt the phantom sensation of nausea roiling where my guts would have been, causing my body to recall heaving. I…I needed to take a breather (I couldn’t properly breathe…I hadn’t for years, oh dear). Before my thoughts began to spiral and I ended up collapsing in an undignified heal to ride out the possible breakdown from just how much pain I was in, I came upon an alley. Without caring to look more than to ensure I was alone (always alone) I ducked down the alley.

I ended up having a small breakdown after all, as a sharp, jabbing pain hit my neck all over. I let out simulated breaths, even if they came unbidden in sharp, frantic bursts.

It was fine.

My hand reached out to brace against the nearest wall, to prevent myself from shakily collapsing to the ground.

I was fine.

My screen went to static briefly, as I fought the internal panic of my body being so reactive to my decision to decapitate and replace my head.

It was this parallel world.

The rules in this place were warring with the ones my own world had. I wasn’t sure just how concerned I ought to be, if it took so much effort to fix just one small attachment issue to my metal head.

That put a question to my mind.

How soon should I put the energy and work as into figuring out the possibility of getting back home if my body progressed to a worse state than it currently was in.

I could figure this out.

It was fine.

It took…quite more time than anticipated to calm myself down in the alley. Once I had, I left it behind me, and walked down  the sidewalk unhindered, belatedly realizing I still wore the cafe apron and visor.

…it didn’t matter so much here. And besides, I do believe I could pull off this look very well, thank you very much.

With a grimace, and a hand lightly placed to the back of my neck again, I reached the edge of town in short order, and spied the abandoned house.

Interesting, that I’d been able to claim for my own use without question.

The interior of the house was empty.

Of course it was.

I’d done nothing with it as of yet, apart from gathering up some items the night before, after I’d been left to my own devices.

I took off the apron and visor, draping the former of the edge of a single chair in the kitchen, and the latter on the small table next to it. I had carefully and meticulously dusted the furniture in this house as best as I could. After covering up the vents in my metal head, of course, to prevent any dust from entering inside.

Who knew what that would do to me in this parallel world versus my own home world?

I didn’t stop walking, continuing down a short hall until I reached the bedroom that I’d been in where you’d found me this morning. Apart from you and your roommates, no one had yet to bother me on my second day on this world that Smg4 had sent me careening through the air to. Rummaging in a small box near the bed, and with a dubious expression, I began to cobble miscellaneous bits and bobs together in attempt to make use of the broken electronics.

It wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t make anything useful with this kind of material; I needed more components to fashion something, more wires, and other electrical based supplies. I believed that I would be able to make a connection from here to home, but at present, I knew I was much too weak to attempt to connect myself to anything, for fear I might not come back to myself. I certainly didn’t have the energy to try any time soon after such a humiliating defeat.

Later.

I would revisit this idea later, when I felt more like myself.

…the ache continued to linger, settling deep within my body. The worst was my neck after yesterday’s events, even after some carefully done self-maintenance.

So what did I do?

I lie gingerly on the bed after being certain that my metal head was well supported and cushioned on all sides to provide relief to my sore neck and the wires that wound around and kept it in place, both to the cervical spine and to my head. My expression was surely back to misery, the only light in the room my face as it flickered in the dark.

Everything felt horrendous.

I could think of nothing but those aches and pains I was currently suffering from. As I lie there, staring up at a dreadfully dull ceiling, I did not allow myself to really dwell on the fact that I was falling into a pathetic state of self-pity (and self-loathing) over how everything had been torn from my grasp that I had rightfully earned.

A twinge.

I went motionless.

…it was too quiet, but I couldn’t find it in myself to listen to my own shows, so I merely continued to lay in that silence that I had brought upon myself, before finally lifting a hand to wearily turn the knob to turn my screen off.

~

Unsurprisingly, going to bed exhausted did me no favors, and as such, I woke up just as worn out, not to mention miserable. Adding insult to this unpleasant awakening was that my neck was sore and stiff. It was unlike anything I’d had to deal with in such a very long time.

No matter.

I could handle this, no problem.

In a daze, and in desperate need to combat this unfamiliar sensation of fatigue and pain, I arrived at the cafe on time, as the path from the edge of town to the cafe was not so difficult once I had traveled it once, by car and then by foot.

I even remembered the apron and visor!

While I half-listened to my duties for my shift, I went with my plan from yesterday to listen in to the coworkers and patrons around me, to gather as much information as I could. This proved to be rather mundane, for the most part, with some interesting tidbits here and there.

At some point during the morning, you arrived.

I pretended to be intensely focused on the near clean table I was at, noting that you appeared to be here for work.

Tiffany seemed to give you the go-ahead, and as you presumably had to take it easy, all you could do was work the register to take orders.

I kept a close digital eye on you as I worked; I even went as far to politely acknowledge you as I passed by. But I moved on just as quickly, so that I didn’t have to know if you would even respond back.

As the hours passed, I again noticed that I rather like the atmosphere of this cafe, and appreciated the way Tiffany ran it. I even found out that there were events that took place several times out of the week to liven things up. 

There was an open-mic comedy night, poetry readings of all kinds, and there was even a mini art fair that was held on the cafe grounds just outside of the building on the small lawn to its right. 

It was all delightful, really!

What a good way to bring in more business!

However, there were no TVs in the cafe (other than myself, of course). Instead, there was only a radio that played local channels and a funny music station from the next town over.

But the most interesting piece of information to me?

It happened during my evening shift at the cafe this week, when I ‘caught’ you, and prevented you from falling over backward. I could have sworn I’d seen a flush on your face, but it could have just come from a panicked state that had made you react in the moment. But your departure up the stairs that day had made me curious as to what was above the cafe, and if you’d only gone up there one time. I felt like I might be closer to being able to ask you myself, because that same week, leading up to the discovery, I’d done everything in my power to show you that I meant no harm to you.

My efforts to speak to you, however, often ended up fumbled on my part. Apart, of course, from catching you at the base of the stairs.

I thought that little interaction had gone splendidly!

Your coworkers?

I had no problem with them; I was able to quite easily charm and win many of them over.

But you.

Oh, you knew there was something to be wary of, so you continued to keep your distance from me. It was as if you knew that there was something more to me, that you couldn’t quite remember. And at times, it seemed that you  were expecting me to do some kind of a trick. Perhaps I’d indulge you, once I’d recovered, and only when you were less suspicious of me.

I didn’t want to scare you away, after all!

That would be foolish after these (pathetic) attempts to speak to you.

On the 8th day in this parallel world, I finally found out, through my own means, what you and some of your other coworkers were up to above the cafe. It was a not-so-hidden secret that there was something going on up there, and I was more than ready to make a little check to see what was going on to sate my curiosity. Especially since my antenna could pick up some radio waves in the air that didn’t belong to the outdated one on the cafe counter.

How interesting!

When I knew that I wouldn’t be missed in the cafe for a few minutes I slunk out of view. Quite a feat, I must say, to be so tall and standout without anyone seeing you leave. Preening over my amazing abilities, I tiptoed up the stairs, unable to help myself as I did it in an exaggerated manner. Once on the landing, I stooped my frame low, and dimmed my screen while I leaned close to the first door I found. Upon hearing voices, I hunkered down to overhear what appeared to be a meeting over a ‘podcast’, from the sound of it.

I am very intrigued by this, and very much approved of the way a podcast could be used as a way to deliver information to a small town in a different way than a news channel would. To speak about what was going on in town; recently or even in the past, silly stories that may or may not have happened, embellished or not. The news of the week delivered by people who sent such stories in via calls, emails and letters.

I leaned close, angling my metal as my antenna twitched this way and that in a futile attempt to pick the voices up more clearly. The more I listened in, the more excited I grew!

How fun!

This was something I could help with, much more than this ‘busboy’ nonsense, while I didn’t have a way to get back home.

I could picture it clearly, and could see this venture of yours, of you and your colleagues, and just how better it could be. Why, I could offer my assistance to make this podcast even better, especially if it were to be made into a broadcast!

Wouldn’t that be interesting?

My screen surely flipped to something not so sane, but I didn’t care as ideas began to form one after another.

Oh, how I missed this feeling of creativity sparking!

I now had more reason to have you see me in a better light, and from this day forward, I would do my best to do just that!

Wincing, I attempted to get to my feet and press a hand to my neck, only to slip and inelegantly face planted my beautiful metal head into the floor. A pained groan rose out of me as the chatter on the other side of the door quieted.

I was honestly quite impressed with myself for the way I practically launched myself up off the floor and planted my hands and feet to either side of the small hall to hold myself up. I even scooted myself a little higher and further dimmed my screen as I watched the door open below me.

A confused murmur, before the door closed.

I stealthily dropped down, preening over being spry and quick despite the pain I was currently in. As quietly as I’d gone up the stairs, I went back down, and got back to work, no one the wiser to my absence.

Except, of course, for the coworker who waited for the day to end, and asked me, straight faced.

”Why were you lurking upstairs like a spider over the recording room?”

I didn’t have a very good answer and supposed honesty was the best policy in this instant, as I doubted you’d take kindly to me, ah, silencing a passerby who’d spied me somewhere I ought not to be. “I was curious about what was going on up there.”

To my chagrin, the coworker nearly nodded, as if confirming something only they knew, before wandering off and resuming whatever they’d been working on.

Ugh.

I needed to get out of this cafe work before I was threatened with the trash compactor again by your roommates. 

A sharp needling began in my neck.

Another wince.

But first, I had to continue with my ‘make you see me as not as much of a threat as you seemed to be think I may be.’ I would not let the near-constant ache in my neck deter me, and thankfully, after another week or so of this, I saw that you were finally beginning to take notice of my attempts to approach you in a non-threatening manner.

I hoped you would pick up on my attempts to engage with you, seeing as my usual way of social interaction was not as acceptable here in this world (appearing through televisions to chat or just skipping that by dragging someone into my television world in my mind). 

Well…

I suppose you’d be exempt from the latter method after our introduction, but some of your coworkers?

A hint of a malicious smirk flashed across my screen as I hefted up a bag of trash to toss outside in the dumpster.

Maybe a few of said coworkers would like a little taste of one of my many wonderful shows I had in mind, if an occasion made itself known.

I could do with some entertainment, as I’m sure this whole town could, and I was someone that could make that happen.

Chapter Text

You were beginning to notice a pattern with Mr. Puzzles, even if you hadn’t known the man for very long.

It was a rather odd pattern to see someone develop in such a short time, even if it made it easier to try to figure out what their deal was.

Mr. Puzzles was making many valiant yet incredibly awkward attempts to approach you over the course of two weeks.

The meeting at the mailbox and being caught in the cafe from falling backward down some stairs were only the beginning.

Most often, Mr. Puzzles attempted to approach you in what appeared to be an awkward attempt to casually chat with you, only for it to end before it could even begin in some absurd way. The tv head man either chickened out of an actual conversation entirely, dropped whatever was in his hands at the moment, or hastened to hastened to finish whatever task it was that he currently had.

When Mr. Puzzles did manage to get a word in with you (or near enough for you to hear him), if tended to be a stiff ‘hello,’ ‘good morning/good afternoon, my dear’ or your personal favorite ‘beans.’ That last one had made the expression on Mr. Puzzles’ screen become a mortified one as he then proceeded to murmur a hasty goodbye before he practically stumbled his way past cafe tables and locked himself in the men’s bathroom for over an hour.

When Mr. Puzzles was like this, it made you wonder why he acted as he had in your and your roommate’s house the first time you’d all met. It seemed like the Mr. Puzzles stammering and being uncertain of himself around you was more…authentic, in a way, than the suave man that had attempted to (possibly) keep you in his television mind.

You still wondered if you’d dreamed that all, but set it aside for now as you debated what you wanted to do about the Mr. Puzzles trying and failing to speak to you very often. I’m the two weeks since the man started his awkward approach, you debated if you actually wanted to engage or not.

Apart from the whole crashing into your and your roommates’ home, and hiding in your closet where you’d put him (still wild his whole body just. Vanished into the tv set itself) you concluded that Mr. Puzzles appeared to be doing his (terribly awkward) best to try to make friends with you.

And in what seemed in the most abstract way possible, like he’d never had any friends before. 

The Mr. Puzzles you spoke with in the cafe most of the time was incredibly timid when he did manage to catch you in a conversation, even if it was something innocuous as the weather or the latest movie that would be coming in to town.

The contrast was so much that at the end of that second week you brought up your observations with Rose the day after the hole in the ceiling that led to the attic was fixed up.

~

“Do you think Mr. Puzzles has trouble trying to make friends with people?”

“Where’d that come from?” Rose asked, glancing away from the interior of the refrigerator.

“It’s just that…when he tries to talk to me it’s about the most mundane things, and then he gets a frustrated look like he made some kind of a mistake before running away like a cartoon character.” You responded.

Rose said your name with a sigh while she gave you the most deadpan stare she could muster. “Do you think that Mr. Puzzles’ interactions with all of us has been that of a socially well-adjusted individual?”

“I…suppose not?” You said in response, while considering the first time Mr. Puzzles had somehow retreated his whole-ass body into a television set to evade the conversion when it wasn’t going his way. “But most of the time he seems fine at talking to people at the cafe apart from when me.” 

Mr. Puzzles appeared civil enough in the cafe, even if he came off as a bit desperate for attention. Even if that meant he was doing more of the menial tasks that your coworkers pushed on him because he wanted any interaction that involved paying attention to him in any capacity so badly.

~

Over the course of the next few days, you watched Mr. Puzzles flounder trying to interact with your before you finally decided to take the unasked peace offering the man apparently had been attempting to offer.

Maybe.

You did this to one, see if Mr. Puzzles’ actions on the day you met had just been due to the circumstances, and two, figured that speaking directly one on one without an audience might be easier on the tv headed man.

~

Mr. Puzzles must have seen you headed his way, because he immediately stopped walking down the sidewalk as he did what appeared to be a quick check to see if Derek or Rose were around, presumably. When Mr. Puzzles saw that it was only you, he seemed to visibly relax, his screen flickering to a somewhat cheerful one as he greeted you

”Good morning, my dear.” The screen shifted to a curious look as the man’s tv head turned to the side as if scrutinizing you. “It’s a nice morning for a walk. This town is quite a delight to explore.”

“It is.” You returned the greeting; while you had been the one to approach Mr. Puzzles this time, you weren’t exactly sure how this would go. “You got a moment to talk?” 

Nailed it.

“You want to…talk to me.” Mr. Puzzles’ expression went to a surprise before an eager one took its place with a wide technicolor smile. “I mean, yes, of course. I’m not due to begin work for ten minutes.” 

“What do you want from me?” You asked Mr. Puzzles bluntly. “I’ve noticed you keep trying to talk to me, but you either run away, or don’t seek to actually get around to what you want to say when we do have short conversations.”

“Well, you see, I-“ Mr. Puzzles fidgeted before stilling his hands as he straightened up to his full height. “I know that it may not be entirely appropriate, considering how the two of us met, but…I was wondering if it were possible to start over?” The digital eyes shifted to directly look at you, though the technicolor smile was uncertain.  “My first impression wasn’t the best, as I’d just experienced a distressing situation, which landed me in your and your roommates home in the first place.” Mr. Puzzles’ screen went to a sheepish sort of look. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I wanted to be certain your injury was taken care of. It is something of a quick way for me to help deal with something where I came from. To solve the problem at hand. It’s only since I’ve spent some time here that some of what I believe is quite normal where I’m from isn’t here.”

“Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me? To ask, all this time?” You asked incredulously. 

“…yes?” Mr Puzzles hunched over a bit, digital eyes avoiding your own. “I must admit…I am not the best at attempting to make…friends with someone.” Quieter, and perhaps not necessarily meant for you to hear. “Not that I’ve had a friend before.”

You stared at the man with the tv head. 

“Is this…ah, too quick?” Mr. Puzzles prompted, when he noticed the way you stared at him. The man let out a theatrical sigh but his tone was uncertain and his posture awkward. “I must admit that I’m not the most familiar with how to ‘make friends’ with someone. You happen to be the person I’m comfortable around at present. You’d been very firm with me when demanding I bring you home.” Mr. Puzzles screen flickered so the eyes were back to looking at you. “You also happened to be the one you came to find me in that house the second day I was in this town.” The man’s voice softened a tad with an admission.  “You’re one of very few people I know of who listened to my pleas when I asked to be left alone to get myself together.”

“Rose was right.” You half-muttered to yourself, which drew a funny expression of ire from Mr. Puzzles. He and your roommates didn’t exactly get along, especially after Mr. Puzzles received an ultimatum aka threatened with a trash compactor. “Anyway…I suppose we’ve been doing small talk for over a week at this point. And from how you’ve not just walked out of town, it seems like you’re going to be sticking around for awhile?

There’s a tiny nod from the metal television head.

”Then so…how about this? We keep doing what we’re doing, maybe hang out around the cafe during breaks? We can see how things pan out, and maybe we can end up being friends.” It almost saddened you to see how excited and animated Mr. Puzzles became at the scrap of slightly increased social interaction that was tossed to him.

”I would like that. I-“ Mr. Puzzles looked away again. “We can do this at whatever pace you like, my dear. It would be nice to have a friend, even if it’s not going to happen right away, if at all.” 

At this point in time, you hadn’t the faintest notion what you were getting yourself into.

~

You’d have thought spending a little more time with Mr. Puzzles would’ve made the unnerving side of the man show again, but it was quite the opposite.

It was like Mr. Puzzles meant it when he said he wanted to have a better first impression with you, and was on his best behavior; he was like a completely different person from the one you’d met at that strange hospital.

Here in town, and in the cafe, in particular, Mr. Puzzles was a ridiculously easy to please person when he had any attention given to him whatsoever. He was pathetically happy whenever you spoke to him, too, be it a short amount of time or when you both had a break.

Derek and Rose weren’t as keen to see you hanging out with the man, but you’d managed to at least convince them that Mr. Puzzles wasn’t about to try to kidnap you away like he’d (somehow) briefly done that first evening while having a doctor see to your arm.

You even began to learn little tidbits about Mr. Puzzles through these interactions.

One of those things?

Mr. Puzzles was ridiculously good at tv and movie trivia; he even smugly claimed he’d seen every moving picture that ever existed. And from the back and forth that came from that, the claim wasn’t a lie.

It was an obsession, actually.

You even saw delight, as well as eagerness, when Mr. Puzzles realized that there were some movies that he hadn’t yet seen when you mention a few. Though when he asked to see those movies, Puzzles had said he could watch them back at the house he’d taken over at the edge of town.

It was…nice, for the man to understand that while you were now more like acquaintances, you weren’t entirely comfortable with the idea of being alone with him.

Mr. Puzzles’ enthusiasm for movies didn’t prepare you for how into it (i.e how deeply the obsession went) he was as Puzzles spent much of the free time at work for a week to prattle on about the movies you’d lent him. Mr. Puzzles even hoped there were even more shoe to see, as it was such a joy for there to be something he’d not yet already seen.

At times, you noted that there were some worrying reactions Mr. Puzzles had to some things around him.

You discovered that the man with the tv on his head held an innate reflex to cover up his face aka screen if something moved too quickly toward him. Mr. Puzzles would also often cringe back (even if it wasn’t always as noticeable) when it seemed like any type of approach might turn out poorly. When it did go well, Puzzles would relax and turn on the charm, as well as instantly regain his confidence.

It wasn’t like you knew him well at this point, as he was an acquaintance, but it wasn’t your business to prod someone about what seemed to be a kind of trauma reaction.

Something you’d already known about Mr. Puzzles?

The man absolutely loved praise and attention, and this was displayed most often at the cafe. The attention seemed to give Mr. Puzzles much more confidence in how he moved about the cafe, as well as an ego boost from the smug and pleased smiles that appeared on the screen.

As much as Mr. Puzzles appeared to enjoy the attention, he also seemed to enjoy your honesty while around him. You’d seen Mr. Puzzles as he was when the two of you first met, so he didn’t seek direct attention from you as often as he could have. He instead chose to preen in reaction to the customers who came to the cafe, many of them regulars, being a small town and all.

After your talk, you noticed little things that did make it appear that Mr. Puzzles really was doing his best to make a better impression on you.

It was kind of working.

There was a surprisingly goofy, dramatic theater kid side to the man, and it was in stark contrast to the calculating, distant and more intimidating version he’d put on before.

What was an act, and what was genuine?

You…actually found yourself interested in finding out, and wondered if, perhaps, you would be able to eventually call Mr. Puzzles a friend. Puzzles did appear to be doing his best to make up what he was able to for past impressions, some of the actions the cause for your roommates putting their guard up while around him.

Mr. Puzzles was trying, and that counted a lot in your mind.

Funnily enough, you didn’t realize how easy it would be for Puzzles to fall into place in your life. So easily, in fact, that you wouldn’t even realize he had become a friend for a while longer after it happened. You’d also find out that Mr. Puzzles had a very bad habit of putting himself into situations that would normally be detrimental to someone’s life.

This, in fact, would be a firm reason to believe Mr. Puzzles when he said the that he wasn’t from this world but another.

~

A month later

~

”What are you doing up there?!” You yelled up at Mr. Puzzles from the ground. “I don’t care if you’re a tall, lanky bastard! You’re going to break something if you fall off that roof, and then what are you going to do?”

“I know what I’m doing!” Mr. Puzzles called back down, far too cheerfully. “Though it is so nice to hear someone worry for my safety rather than delight in any possible forthcoming pain.”

“Until you get zapped by whatever you’re tinkering around with up there! What even is that for; we can’t get satellite television out here.” You shot back.

“This isn’t for television watching, sadly.” Mr. Puzzles responded as he crouched to inspect his handiwork. “Just a moment longer, my dear. I’m nearly finished.”

You watched with quiet exasperation as the tv headed man finished his inspection, then pointedly scaled his way down the side of the house.

By doing a distressing downward crawl down the drainpipes like a damn spider with Puzzles’ long limbs, as if to scare you with how close his tv head was to being damaged were he to fall. Then, with a dramatic flip, Mr. Puzzles landed directly before you, completely unharmed as he posed with dramatic flair.

“Show off.” You sighed.

”I’m in the entertainment business, dear. Of course I am.” Mr. Puzzles responded, technicolor grin making him look ridiculously proud of himself.

“Why am I considering being friends with you again?” You asked, frowning when you saw Mr. Puzzles’ screen flip to a hopeful-looking one. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Mr. Puzzles straightened up, fastidiously brushing down his dress shirt. “Aren’t you going to be late to work?”

You swiftly checked you phone, then narrowed your eyes at the smug smile on the tv man’s face.

“if I must keep myself occupied until your next visit, I will do what I must.” Mr. Puzzles gestured to the roof of the house he’d just been on top of, then to the shed he’d built nearby.  “I’ll be arms deep in a vehicle for spare parts, if you can’t find me.”

“Why?” You wondered, glancing in the direction of said shed, then back to Puzzles.

“A secret.” Mr. Puzzles flashed a wink with across his screen paired with that infuriating smile again.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to fend for myself against clueless duo at the cafe today.” You commented wryly.

”Clueless…ah, yes. Then.” Mr. Puzzles’s screen switched to a disappointed frown. “Those two are still harassing you?”

“It’s just some lighthearted teasing.” You’d said with a shrug. “If it was really a problem, I’d let Tiffany know.” You check the phone again, swear, then turn to go, waving a hand at Mr. Puzzles. “I definitely have to get going now, or I’ll be late. See you later!”

”Do take whatever time you need after your shift.” Mr. Puzzles responded, awkwardly raising a hand to wave in return, apparently not used to returning the gesture yet. “No need to make those roommates of yours worry unnecessarily.”

You wave again to acknowledge Mr. Puzzles words, but didn’t note the expression of contemplation that had settled on Puzzles’ screen as he stayed in place to watch you leave.  

Had you checked?

Mr. Puzzles’ expression switching to the slightly unhinged expression, as if he’d thought of some way to deal with those two coworkers you’d mention.

It would be quite an overblown, dramatic way to deal with what Mr. Puzzles viewed as ‘harassment’ toward you, but did at least let you know that he hadn’t lost the way he’d been acting before. Puzzles had just hidden it until he needed that over the top, dramatic, if sinister, showman flair.

Chapter Text

For the first time since I’d come to this parallel world, I finally felt as though I was making progress toward getting onto less awkward speaking terms with you.

Not that my attempts at small talk were the best, nor my approach less stalker-ish, as I took in as much information as I could about the town when I wasn’t working. Or when I wasn’t struggling to find material to try and cobble together something to allow me to contact my own world, or make it possible for me to return.

I was still not at my best, which was likely why it took some time for me to have you become less wary around me.

It was tricky, since I was working in an unfamiliar place with an equally unfamiliar set of physical rules that made me struggle to focus when I was in pain. But this was importantly; I had to have at least one person view me in a positive light. And I was trying, as much as I didn’t appear to be, to show you that I wasn’t a threat. 

When I didn’t want to be, anyway.

Not that trying to show one person I could ‘behave’, that ‘dragging’ people into one of my shows was not something I made a habit of (unless it benefited me in getting those ratings and said people helped push up said ratings).

But then, I’d had that unexpected breakthrough, and I wasn’t the one who made it like I’d thought.

You’d approached me.

You’d come to speak to me.

On your own!

And not only that, you’d even been able to figure out that what I’d wanted was to start over with you. To start over, in order to have you forget, or at least put behind you, that terrible first impression you had of me. And I of you, for you punching me in my beautiful face, as a reaction to finding a man with a tv for a head in your closet.

I couldn’t fault you for that, really.

It appeared that this world did not allow for people to show up inexplicably in someone’s home.

I didn’t quite understand this; why not show up to cut out the unnecessary phone calls and questioning where someone was when one could just enter out of the blue without a door? Or in my case, enter into a building through a tv, which saved time on a commute.

Apparently, it wasn’t normal for someone like me to take the place of any giving television set, and I wasn’t currently not receiving any pay that week in return for replacing a tv set in the small employee lounge in the back of the cafe.

…I digress.

It was wonderful that you’d finally approached me and even seemed to be open to spending time with me, though there were some caveats, which, again, considering how we’d met, I understood. But at the same time, I was beside myself at the realization that I’d get to spend more time with you from that point on after that conversation. This was good, in my option, as this meant I’d have plenty of time to show you that I wasn’t out to get you, or your rather protective roommates.

It was unexpected to suddenly have hours here and there to spend time with you, and to do things that I could only guess were things one did with friends. Not ever having had any, I couldn’t help but jump at any mention of meeting up with you outside of working in the cafe together. There were even the times I got to watch fantastic new movies I’d never seen before in my life. 

What a delight that was!

But what was even better was the way you were slowly but surely beginning to relax in my presence the more time we spent in one another’s company.

It was nice.

It was actually…a lot nicer than I’d expected it to be, attempting to befriend someone. Especially when I had no idea what I was doing. But I must have been doing something right, because you were even open to spending time with me when I was the one who asked to meet up.

But I found, more and more, that while this was something I wanted, to spend time with you, it was fast becoming a way for me to avoid something else. An excuse, for me to not to think about my body’s unfortunate reaction to being in this parallel world.

There was time before I would have to face it fully, but in the meantime, I was able to handle a sore (thankfully no longer bleeding) neck. And in that same vein, I knew that, for now, there was nothing that would go terribly wrong with my body. At least not something that I couldn’t deal with on my own (for now) with the tools I’d accumulated while I’d scrounged about the edge of town. Why, I was even able to even buy some tools myself in a store, because I actually had some spending money, despite the mishap of the tv in the cafe.

A simple misunderstanding, really.

Though the ability to earn some money under the table, so to speak, was thanks to the fact that I’d somehow managed to become a regular employee in the cafe I’d been practically blackmailed into working at. I had to hand it to Tiffany, the owner. That woman had been truly devious about it, finding ways to have me cover shifts for people other than you, once you were okayed to work your full shifts. And not only that, I began to have my own hours. With a mix of covering shifts anhd two of my very own shifts, I’d not realized just how well integrated I’d become in the cafe after only working there a month.

Devious, that Tiffany.

I was rather impressed to be bamboozled in such a way, except for the fact that the cafe was quite the hub for learning all about town. In that one month alone, I had a fairly decent picture of the usual haunts people drifted to, the regulars of the cafe, and even the hushed whispers of some visitors from another town whom apparently this town held rivalry with.

If only I could have had the strength and energy to do something with all of this information.

It could make quite the show, and no one here even realized such a potential.

Apart from that radio podcast that was above the cafe.

I was still figuring out how long it would take for me to bring that up with you, and see if I could, perhaps, take a little look at the place? See what equipment you and the others had to work with, and maybe, perhaps, make a little suggestion to add another, visual medium? Just because I wasn’t at home didn’t mean I’d given up entirely on attempting to attain that five star rating, and really, this could be the chance I was waiting for!

Oh, how I longed to turn this town into a wonderful television spectacle for all to enjoy.

I could do it.

The moment I was felling better (likely never fully recovered, considering where I was), I could easily come up with a few scripts and even proper settings with hardly any thought at all. But for that to possibly have a chance of succeeding, I needed to have someone be on my side. Someone who would be open to some of my ideas that others might consider more…eccentric.

Distressing, even.

So, while I figured out that you’d indeed become more tolerant of me, and dare I say, perhaps even enjoyed my company, i knew it wasn’t enough. Not yet. I felt I still had to truly show you that my intentions were not to harm you, or anyone else, for that matter.

But how would I go about that?

I was at a complete loss, completely stumped for several days on an answer, until finally, I just so happened to inexplicably be handed a golden opportunity.

Two of our…coworkers, who didn’t seem to be terribly polite to you.

Yes.

This was it!

I could use this to my advantage!

It was time to prove, without question, that I had your best interests in mind. That I was trustworthy, even if I knew, and understood well, that you might not yet be at the point of wanting to spend too much time alone with me, expect for an occasional hour or so that wasn’t in town or where there was someone else be nearby. I was aware that you likely wouldn’t help me with my endeavor of high television ratings and fame right anyway; not until I made friends with you properly.

Once I was able to be an actual friend?

I’d be able to share with you the ideas I’ve had ever since I’d gotten a good look at this small town, and talk to you about its great potential.

~

I didn’t have to wait for long to enact my plan, to prove to you that I could be trusted, and what better way to show that than to show you I could watch out for your well-being?

There were those co-workers of yours (and mine, I guess, if one were being technical) who had been responsible for needlessly heckling you.

Conveniently, I had an evening shift with them, where those two finished closing and taking the register’s money to the back.

I kept my head down, struggling to prevent the scheming expressions from appearing on my screen lest one of them (or a camera) picked up on it. Busying myself with cleaning up the tables, floors, and counters for the night, I kept my eagerness in check.

What a convenient opportunity to be handed!

I wouldn’t say no to being given handpicked volunteers. Miscreants, really. Why, I would be doing not only you, but Tiffany and our other coworkers a favor by taking these two rude ruffians out of the way for a time. To teach them a lesson, yes, but to then use the new ‘actors’ to be able to work out a show I’d been thinking about for the past two weeks.

All I had to do was be patient.

I could do that, when it was called for.

I finished up my work and waited for just a few moments more while busying myself with unnecessary tidying. And my, how convenient was it that I was the first to leave, while the other two were the designated ‘closers’ to lock up the cafe for the night.

With a little hum, I waited for the two unsuspecting coworkers to leave the building, and how easy it was for me to follow them at a distance as they headed home. And even in the same direction, where they made a foolish mistake to take a shortcut through an alley. Didn't either of them have a braincell between them to know that this was a very bad idea? Maybe they didn’t watch the movies or perhaps being ambushed in an alley just wasn’t something that happened in this small town.

It didn’t really matter.

This only made it easier for me to…introduce them to the worlds of possibility within the realm of my mind? Surely you’d be grateful to have these rude people not bother you with all of that unnecessary teasing and words that bordered on harassment.  

That ought to show that I had your best interests in mind, wouldn’t it?

It was so easy to corner these two that it hardly seemed fair.

I couldn’t resist creeping up on them, stooping to allow myself an easier time to lunge forward to seize either of men’s shoulders with my hands.

The screaming was an unfortunate result, but I was quick to bring the two of them into my tv dimension before someone came along to check on the noise, and before the two men could think to they to run. It wasn’t that late in the right, and I was quick to make myself scarce from the alley. I could move silently when I needed to, and that made it easier to continue to carry out my plans. Once I was a good distance away from that alley, I relaxed and walked down a sidewalk while I cast my thoughts to the layout of town. I had to figure out just where I would go to not be found straight away, so that I could focus on entertaining my new guests in a world and setting of my own choosing. 

A swift perusal of the town provided me with a simple answer.

On the opposite edge of town of the house I’d taken as my own, there was a strip mall that was only barely open. A few stores were open, but many other store fronts were closed down, yet connected by a small interior walkway to allow one to be indoors.

It was perfect.

While it was a smaller building, there were many empty spaces within each of the closed stores. It would be necessary for me to be able to hide myself; particularly my beautiful metal head. It wouldn’t do for me to be disturbed while I went within my own mind‘s dimension to put on a new show. I chose the store I felt I’d be less likely be found within, and even went into what appeared to be a small, old security office of the closed store.

My reasoning for the secrecy was I had no doubts, should your roommates pick up on my plans, they were sure to intervene. And likely in a more aggressive manner than I hoped you would, should you somehow happen upon me while I worked my magic.

But enough of the set-up.

I closed the door behind me, and stood there for a moment, before my excitement began to grow.

Oh, how I’d missed making and producing shows, even if it had been only for a short time since my last one.

A mad, if eager, technicolor smile crossed my otherwise static face. I couldn’t wait to showcase what I could really do when I was allowed to fully exercise my creative freedom. With no one to stop me (like that pesky red plumber or Smg4) I allowed myself a glee-filled maniacal laugh before retreating within my mind, the phrase ‘please stand by’ along with my logo appearing on the television screen.

It was just about time for another Puzzlevision original!