Chapter Text
Victim’s been through a lot. A lot more than other sticks have.. well, at least mentally. He was created by a mere user, noogai3, more known as Alan Becker with the only purpose to get tortured, hence why his name is Victim. He’s a victim. He wasn’t hesitant to fight back against his abuser though, but he failed miserably as he got “deleted”— but no, he actually survived, escaping through the Outernet, now living in Stick City, hidden, waiting.. planning revenge. But he wouldn’t be able to do it alone.
Victim felt like shit. Stuck, so lost. This.. was new to him. But with his great memory, he was able to memorize the layout of this city, no matter how big it was. But everytime he stepped in the sunlight, his shadow was exposed, almost like a mock from his past; the halo, the wings…
Victim knew he was a walking target. His gray body was literally covered in scars and cracks, all due to Alan Becker’s torture. The thought of it alone made him shiver, and made the scars feel fresh again. He was only in his early 20’s, yet his rather short height made him feel weak, vulnerable, though he was pretty tall. He managed to hold up a hoodie, trousers and boots to help hide his pain from plain view. He also tried covering his shadow, standing in darker spots.. anywhere to hide his wings and halo. It felt like his own shadow was haunting him like a ghost. He absolutely hated it, being reminded of what he’s gone through..
But Victim knew he couldn’t give up. The rage within him was building up and becoming unbearable. Every day of the month, he’d been planning on creating this facility, his own organization, having other sticks working for him to try to locate Alan Becker and teach him a lesson; that creators shouldn’t mess with their creations. And of course he’s heard of The Chosen One, Victim’s own successor, knowing he’s the key to Alan’s location. He’d deal with that too. Victim spent hours making up a layout for headquarters, making it look like it wasn’t.. made by him, in case the “Creator” found out how to get into the Outernet. Once the plan was finalized, he began preparing for the actual construction, hiring multiple stick figures to help him with this.
No matter what, Victim refused to stop. He didn’t want to give up, he didn’t wanna waste any time, he just kept working and working on this thing, and after a few months.. it was ready. The citizens were getting suspicious, but he didn’t care. He even had a logo for the company, a rocket sign. The gray modern building looked.. perfectly made. And it only took him a few months to get this whole thing started.
He stared at the HQ from outside, making sure everything was in place. He was more than pleased with the results, and that the sticks around him weren’t questioning his behavior anymore. It was all going according to plan. The logo was neatly placed above the main entrance. The thought of that, being done after so long gave him a wave of dopamine, it made him happy to be one step closer towards his goal, but he knew he was also far from it. He looked at his own reflection in the glass, he was tired but motivated. With a hum of satisfaction, Victim walked inside the building, pacing through the multiple long halls, going towards the elevator that led to his own office.
Of course he made the office be in a more secluded area in the facility, without a door but a damn elevator as its exit and entrance. He walked inside, staring at himself in the mirror to the side, ignoring how his halo and wings were showing in the reflection, but he could see the pain in his eyes, his gaze shifting down towards his rather messy attire. He knew he had to change. He can’t keep wearing clothes like.. baggy pants and hoodies, no. He needed formal clothes, something specific. He needs to look and act professional, nobody would believe he’s the boss and founder of this company otherwise. That made him scoff under his breath, he definitely had to change his style. He decided to go for something predictable; dark gray suit, white button-up, gray tie, and black boots. It wasn’t too eye-catching, was it, but it still gave an “important” feeling.
He was ready now. Ready to start hiring, to spread a message. Earlier, he even put posters up around the city so others knew who he was— well, not exactly who, but that he was hiring more for his organization and stuff. He even put up “WANTED” flyers with pictures of The Chosen One, giving off an eerie kind of feeling around town.
And when future workers would come, of course he won’t introduce himself as “Victim”... he’s supposed to be this strong boss, he can’t go by the name of a VICTIM anymore, at least not in public…
Maybe, only “Vic” would do.
Victim, now known as Vic to the public, waited patiently in his office chair. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of anxiety and excitement, knowing he was slowly achieving his goals.
As he sat while staring out the window, the slight sunlight seeping through the blinds, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He knew that hiring stick figures was crucial, and he had to make sure they were trustworthy and capable of aiding him in his mission. He was more than ready to put his bigger plans into action, he just needed to wait until the right sticks came along.
Then.. he could hear the elevator noise, hinting that someone was coming up to his office, the doors probably ready to open.
Victim was snapped out of his thoughts by that sound. He quickly composed himself and sat up straight in his chair, facing the elevator doors that were about to open any minute now, ready to use his steady and authoritative voice.
The doors slid open, the shadow of the person that walked in loomed over Victim from the brightness outside and inside the elevator. It was a tall stick figure, looking like they were made in Pivot Animator, unlike Victim. This other stickman had his body made out of thin, black lines, somehow thinner than Victim’s own, the long limbs, and the outline of his head was black too, but the inside of his head was solid and filled in with white, them wearing shades covering his supposed eyes, unlike Victim who had a hollow-head yet with a facial expression, an interested one at the sight now. They were wearing a rather cozy and comfy fit, a dark gray coat, black pants and black, shiny boots, a different contrast to Victim’s suit.
Victim’s eyes focused on the tall figure that walked into his office, noticing the stark difference in their appearances. He leaned back in his chair, studying the newcomer intently. He kept his expression cool and composed, waiting patiently to hear what the other stick figure had to say. But he also couldn’t help but notice how smooth the other stick moved, seeming to be moving at a higher FPS than himself or anyone he’s ever seen. Their expression was hard to read as it was shaded, but he had one hand at his side, the other being behind his back.
“Interesting..” Victim stated in his mind, not wanting to mutter it aloud as he realized how this other person was extremely quiet.
For a moment there, it’s as if Victim’s fears slowly came back in this whole silent atmosphere, until..
Until he spoke.
He brought the other hand from behind his back, holding one of the WANTED fliers Victim put outside and simply stated what he was here for, “I’d like the job.” A pretty moody yet soft voice. Simple, straightforward, something Victim didn’t see on a regular basis.
Victim raised one eyebrow, intrigue washing over him, trying to not get too excited, he can’t allow himself to trust anyone. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk as he looked up at the other stick figure standing in front of him. “I see,” he started, his voice steady. “You’d like the job, you say.” He paused for a moment, studying the other’s movements, the smooth flow of his high framerate. “And what makes you think you’re qualified for this job?”
“...”
Silence. A short pause.
The tall stick figure gripped the flier tighter, remaining calm, however, “You need someone who knows how to fight.” He replied just then, having just a tiny bit of a hint of desperation in his voice.
Victim nodded slowly, a smirk starting to form on his face before it faded away. He had to admit though, the stick in front of him certainly looked capable of holding his own in a fight, despite being thinner than himself. “Indeed, I do.” He admitted, his demeanor still collected, “but I need more than just someone who knows how to fight.” he went on, leaning back in his chair. “I need someone who can follow orders, someone who can be discreet, and most importantly.. someone I can trust.” He eyed the other closely, awaiting an answer as he intertwined his own fingers on the desk.
“..I can be that person.” He said with no hesitation, lowering his voice a little as he continued holding the poster up. His movements were rather.. worth the admiration.
Victim’s smirk appeared again, feeling a bit amused at the other’s words. “That’s what everyone says,” he said, his voice a touch skeptical now, “but actions speak louder than words, I suppose.”
He made a pause, eyeing the stick figure again before leaning back in his chair again, noticing he wasn’t getting any comment from his latest reply. “Very well,” he finally said, making a gesture for the other stick to sit. “Let’s start with your name.”
The other stick figure put the flier down on Victim’s desk and sat down on the seat in front of him.
“..Smith.” was his answer, hesitant for some reason.
Victim raised an eyebrow again, his intrigue growing. “Smith,” he repeated the name. Basic, but not boring. He glanced up to study Smith’s face,, or what he could see of it through and under the shades. “And how old are you, Smith?”
“23.” Smith replied as soon as he heard the question being thrown at him. Almost like Victim, but older by like only a year.
“23, huh?” Victim perked up curiously, but it’s almost like he asked that in a mocking, uninterested tone. “You seem older than that.” He stated his opinion, luckily not catching sight of Smith’s eyes narrowing under those shades of his. Smith did look older though, but not that old.
He paused for a moment, sizing up the stick figure before him. “You’re a lot taller than me,” he added. “Must be from being made in Pivot Animator.”
Smith was.. actually glad Victim noticed, not that he’d show that, though. He just nodded, being so polite as well as he could and it made Victim feel.. relieved? With his former fear of interactions, this was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t meet polite people anywhere. “Correct, sir.”
Victim couldn’t help but let out a scoff at being called “sir.” He wasn’t used to people addressing him that way, especially given his young age. But he’d have to get used to it, he knows he’ll either get called that or “boss” by his future employees, though hearing Smith say it.. didn’t sit right with him. “Just call me Vic,” he replied, getting another nod from Smith. A man of few words.
Smith tensed up a little, seeming a bit confused and surprised at that request, it was present in his body language as his eyes were covered by his shades, but he gave a nod nonetheless.
Then, Victim’s voice snapped Smith out of his confusion. “So, Smith,” he continued, “what makes you think you’re the right choice for this job? What sets you apart from the others who might want this position?”
“..Nobody else seemed interested out there. I figured nobody asked yet.” Smith answered, though the answer felt.. vague.
Victim chuckled lightly at that. “Straightforward,” he pointed out, leaning forward again. “I appreciate honesty.”
Smith wanted to smile when hearing that, but Victim’s amusement was cut short as he turned serious again. “But honesty alone won’t cut it.” He added, “I need someone who can follow orders and make tough decisions. Can you do that, Smith?”
Smith just blankly stared at Victim, letting the question set in. “I will do that.”
Victim smirked once more, impressed by the other’s determination. “You sound very confident, Smith,” He complimented. “I like that.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, stretching his legs a little before setting his gaze on the WANTED flier. “What do you know about The Chosen One?” he asked suddenly, wanting to see if Smith was knowledgeable about the one they were going after. He couldn’t tell him about Alan, no. Not yet.
At the mention of the enemy’s name, Smith looked over at the flier as well, before looking back at Victim. “He’s powerful, agile, arrogant.” That description sort of fit him, at least that’s what they thought of him.
Victim raised an eyebrow at Smith’s assessment. “Arrogant, huh?” he repeated, an amused lilt in his voice. He nodded thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the desk quietly. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his expression becoming more serious. “The Chosen One is indeed powerful and quite agile, but his arrogance could be his downfall, if we play our cards right.”
“Do you think you can handle him?” Victim suddenly asked, narrowing his eyes, trying to see right through Smith.
Smith’s shaded eyes stared into Victim’s narrowed ones. “I’m sure I will handle him.” He assured him.
“You’re sure of yourself,” Victim said, a hint of admiration in his softening tone, with also some intrigue at Smith’s confident response. “You’ve got guts,” he decided to add, his voice quieter now. “I like that.”
He paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should trust this newcomer. “You’re not afraid?” he asked out of nowhere, sounding almost challenging, making Smith perk up slightly as he shook his head slowly. Victim smirked, “You’re either very brave, or very stupid.” He said, his voice low and even, studying his body language. “Or both,” he added with a small smirk. “But I’m hoping it’s the former.”
Smith continued to intensely stare at Victim, not paying much mind to the.. almost teasing tone in his voice. After a bit, he spoke. “Am I hired, then?”
Victim gave a quiet hum, crossing his arms. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. You’ve got guts, and you seem confident in your abilities.”
He sat up straight in his chair, regarding Smith with a cool, calculating gaze. He looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the stick figure’s tall, slender frame for a moment before making up his mind. He paused for a moment, pretending to think about it before slowly nodding. “Yes, you’re hired.” he finally said, another smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Welcome to the team, Smith.” He extended his hand out to shake his.
Smith was happy, but he didn’t let that show, his expression was blank and collected, he didn’t smile, but it was obvious he was glad. He looked at Victim’s extended hand, slowly reaching his own hand for Victim’s, shaking it.
Victim couldn’t help but smile at Smith’s controlled emotions. He was used to people expressing their happiness more openly, but he appreciated Smith’s ability to keep a cool demeanor. “You start tomorrow at 7 AM.” Victim spoke again, pulling his hand back gently. “I’ll have one of my right-hands come pick you up and show you around the facility.”
Smith listened carefully, taking in every detail as he nodded and got up from his seat.
Victim watched as Smith got to his feet, admiring his movement once again. He stood up himself, straightening out his suit jacket. “One more thing before you go,” He stopped Smith from leaving with that sentence.
Smith was already turning to leave, but he only slightly turned to look at Victim from under his shades, tilting his head a bit to the side.
Victim leaned forward against his desk. crossing his arms again. “When you come in tomorrow,” he started, his voice serious, “don’t tell anyone your real name.” He paused for a moment, his expression turning more thoughtful. “In fact,” he added, smiling more softly, “don’t tell anyone anything about yourself. Keep your personal life out of this, understand?”
“...”
Victim let his hands rest on the surface of his desk, not letting Smith answer just yet. “And be sure to report to me directly. I want to know everything going on with the mission and your progress. No communication with my right-hands unless necessary.” He paused for a moment, his gaze locking with Smith’s. “Understood?” He repeated himself, his voice firm.
“I understand.”
Victim studied Smith’s expression, trying to get a read on him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind those shades, but he seemed compliant. “Good,” he nodded approvingly. “Tomorrow morning, then.”
He pushed himself off the desk, letting Smith leave. “I look forward to working with you, Smith.” A small smirk played on his lips as he said that.
“Me too, Vic.” And without a second thought, Smith went in the elevator and left Victim’s office.
Victim watched as Smith left, his smirk widening slightly at the sound of his own name coming from the stick figure. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Interesting fellow,” he murmured to himself, sitting back down in his office chair. He leaned back, getting comfortable with his elbows resting on the armrests and steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Smith,” he repeated his new employee’s name quietly. “I have a feeling he’ll be a valuable asset.”
Victim had NO doubt about that. But he still needed more people. And then, that day, more and more sticks came to Victim to get hired, but none of them were like.. Smith. Yet, Victim employed them as workers, nothing higher-ranked like Smith would be– a mercenary. Only three others which were different from each other interested Victim, too. Though, after that, he couldn’t stop thinking about Smith for some reason. He found himself thinking about him more and more. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt strangely drawn to the tall, mysterious stickman. Perhaps it was his smooth movements, or maybe his quiet confidence that attracted Victim.
He sighed, annoyed with himself. That sounded ridiculous.