Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red peeked into the newly opened portal with curiosity.

The four of them had opened it by complete accident while taking advantage of the Animator’s absence, quickly finding out that the wall Second had broken through could also be used as a door.

If they had found out about that sooner, maybe he would still be with them…

All of them were hesitant to see for themselves where this portal led, yet their curiosity compelled them to take a closer look anyway. This was the only thing they didn’t recall ever being on the PC when they were out of their window the first time (The only time before this).

“Can you see where it leads?” Blue asked after Red had been staring out for the better part of three minutes.

Red shook his head. All it looked like was an endless white void from where he was sitting, and for the first (and possibly only) time in his life, he was reluctant to jump in headfirst.

Not like he had much of a choice in the end anyway.

They were all too focused on the portal to notice someone sitting at his desk on the other side of the screen. They didn’t notice the tight grip he had on his mouse, carefully deciding what his next move should be, not wanting a repeat of last time.

They might not have seen him at first, but he definitely saw them.

Blue saw the cursor first, out of the corner of his eye. When his mind finally registered what he was seeing, he panicked, tumbling backwards and bumping into Green, who was trying to help Red back onto the PC, causing the former to lose his grip.

And Red fell.

So the other three, seeing that they were backed into a corner and had nowhere to run, quickly jumped in after him.

Which left Alan staring at the spot they were in moments before, wondering why that portal seemed so vaguely familiar to him.

Needless to say, none of the sticks were expecting what they saw on the other side.

So many new sights hit them all at once that it was a little overwhelming, which wasn’t at all helped by the fact that they were still falling. From what they could tell, there was a city not too far from where they were. Yellow noted that they were going to completely miss the nearby cliff and land in the water below, though whether that was a better fate was yet to be decided at the moment.

It was quickly decided, and the answer was a little surprising.

It was.

Once they confirmed that they were all still alive, they started trying to climb the aforementioned cliff. It took quite a bit of effort, and the four were exhausted at the end, but they were able to make it to the top.

Green, since he was lying on his back, took a good long look at the sky, seeing the hole they had fallen out of. Now that he wasn’t plummeting to the ground, he could see the faint label marking it as ALANSPC.

Then he took notice of the relatively small gray device hovering near said hole, seemingly observing the activity around it. With his phone, which was miraculously undamaged by the water, Green was able to snap a picture of it just before it flew away.

It then dawned on him that they had no way of getting back up. Given the main reason they had fallen through the portal in the first place, though, he wasn’t entirely sure that was such a bad thing.

This place seemed pretty big anyway, surely there was someone willing to offer them a place to stay, at least for the night.

They probably would’ve looked, if only they hadn’t all fallen asleep before they even got up.

Chapter Text

There was so much fire that it was quickly becoming difficult to see anything.

The temperature was rapidly rising, and almost every occupant on the PC, as well as its owner, knew that it was only a matter of time before it overheated and crashed.

And because they all knew that, they collectively agreed it was time to make a run for it.

All except Second.

There was no clear sign of his friends joining them, and for a moment, he wasn’t even sure if they knew what was going on or what was going to happen.

He couldn’t lose them again.

He wouldn’t lose them again.

So he ran to their website, ignoring the frantic calls of his siblings behind him.

He wasn’t going to leave them behind. Not this time.

They were all hiding in their room, unaware of the growing danger they were in. They were still afraid of the Animator, not realizing he was more concerned with the imminent destruction of his computer than a few rogue stick figures running around (Of course, he knew that said rogue stick figures were the cause of that destruction, but that was besides the point).

“Second? What’s going on?” Yellow asked. The others, seeing the worry on their friend’s face, immediately got to their feet, knowing that something was very wrong.

“We have to get out of here, now.” That didn’t answer the question in the slightest, but given the limited time they had left, he wasn’t about to launch into an overly detailed explanation.

He wouldn’t have been able to explain even if there was enough time, a scream echoed through the computer, their signal that if they didn’t leave as soon as possible, it would be too late.

As concerned as he was about that (That was Vic who had screamed, after all, and Firefox was still running around), Second had already decided that he would be the last stick to leave that website, to be absolutely positive that his friends would be safe.

Thankfully, they didn’t ask any further questions, and just made a run for it.

It would have been a straight shot to the Wifi portal, had Firefox not been determined to stand in their way until the very end.

There was only so much Chosen could do to fight against his recurring adversary, especially now that there were others involved (That sly fox had figured out that Vic was, apparently, not immune to fire and was trying to use that fact to its advantage).

He didn’t see where exactly Second had run off to, nor did he have the time to find out. He just knew it was in the completely wrong direction.

Then, all of a sudden, four sticks he’d never seen before ran past him, heading right for the portal. If he had to take a guess, he would’ve said that they were the reason Second had left.

The kid was currently trying to help his eldest brother get back on his feet, struggling mainly because Vic’s leg had been badly burnt.

Dark was trying to keep the cursor at bay, and was actually doing a decent job with the help of his wristbands. None of the Virabots were still with him.

Firefox eventually slipped up, leaving Chosen the perfect opportunity to freeze it once and for all, around the same time Dark managed to get the cursor out of the way.

He looked back for just a moment to make sure Second and Vic were coming. They were, though the latter was trailing behind and clearly struggling to keep up.

But at that moment, it looked like they would make it in time.

So Chosen left, Dark following closely behind him.

Every step Victim took sent shockwaves of pain through his leg. And that was with a massive adrenaline rush.

(He would probably be walking with a limp for the rest of his life, if he could stand to walk at all)

As much as he tried to keep up with Second, it was growing progressively harder. For some reason, his brother’s solution to this was to slow down slightly.

They were already trailing behind as it was. Everyone else had already left. They probably only had a few minutes before everything was destroyed.

A few minutes that they wouldn’t have if Second kept slowing down to keep pace with him.

“Second, you have to speed up or we won’t make it-!”

“But-”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m right behind you.”

Reluctantly, Second started running faster.

He was close enough to make it.

Victim wasn’t.

So with the last of his energy, he wasted no time shoving his younger brother through the portal.

And he collapsed just before he could follow.

The chains were finally broken.

It should have been a relief, to finally be free, to not have to worry about the consequences of breaking his promise, to finally be away from that PC once and for all. He should have been smiling, he finally had his friends back and they were safe and he could show them everything he'd done in his absence. It should have been the best day of his life.

That’s not what it felt like. Not to Second.

It felt like hours where he just standing there, staring at the sky, waiting for someone who wasn't coming.

Waiting for someone who should have been there to celebrate with him.

Waiting for someone who had risked everything to save him.

Waiting for someone he never got the chance to apologize to.

"If you walk out of this building, I'm not going after you."

"Good. I don't want you to."

To say he had regrets would be a massive understatement.

His brother had just saved his life. At the cost of his own.

He had almost forgotten about the others behind him. That is, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He was crying. When had he started crying?

"Second?"

It was Green. Everyone else was looking at him too, worried about him.

He already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. And his voice began to crack when he spoke. But he couldn't help it.

He wasn't ready to accept the fact that his brother was dead.

"Where's Vic?"

Chosen was not expecting to take in a child, least of all his younger sibling (Whom he didn't even know existed until the day he was kidnapped).

But Second didn't want to go home after what had happened, and with nowhere else to go, that left him no other choice.

It was terrifyingly easy to forget he was even there sometimes. He mostly kept to himself, though Chosen knew he still stayed in contact with his friends.

(Where they ended up going after they escaped the PC, he didn't know)

That's why he and Dark were surprised to see Second leaving the house one day.

"Where are you going?" Dark asked.

Second didn't actually answer the question, but they could tell where he was going by what he did say.

"It's Vic's birthday today."

Chosen and Dark tensed, sharing a quick glance. They had to choose their words carefully.

Second had been in denial ever since it happened. One wrong word and he'd shut them out until he felt like talking again. And then they'd be right back at square one.

"Why? Do you need me to stay here?"

"No, no, I was just wondering. We, uh, haven't seen you leave the house in a while."

"Just be careful, alright?"

"I will. I shouldn't be gone for too long."

The moment the door closed, all the tension that had been in the air began to subside.

There was one thing the two brothers agreed on more than anything else: trying to navigate that subject, especially around Second, was like navigating a minefield.

"We've gotta tell him."

"Don't you remember what happened the last time?"

He had shut them out completely for an entire week. The only way they could tell he was still eating was that food was vanishing in the middle of the night.

"Well we can't just let him stay in denial forever."

"He'll talk when he's ready."

"You say that every time."

"We're not having this discussion again. Don't say a word when he gets back."

"…Fine. Whatever you say."

It was like navigating a minefield where the safest option was to just turn around and leave.

There wasn't a proper grave (No body to bury), so Second simply did the next best thing.

Which happened to be sneaking into his old bedroom at Rocket without letting anyone know he was there.

One side of the room was barren, everything that was once there had either been moved or tossed out.

The other side was almost exactly the same as it had been before he'd left. The only difference was the extra pictures he'd been leaving whenever he stopped by.

And now he was going to add another.

A birthday party, complete with a cake and everyone there to celebrate it. Rather than 18 separate candles, he'd opted to simply put the number candles.

It would have been perfect, had it actually been real.

"Happy birthday, Vic." His voice was breaking again. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that tears would start falling any moment.

Maybe he heard a faint 'Thank you', followed by the cool feeling of a familiar hug, reassuring him that things would get better eventually. Perhaps he heard an apology for keeping a secret that really didn't matter as much as they both thought it did. Maybe, just maybe, when he finally opened his eyes again, he saw a certain someone admiring the new drawing.

He knew he was just imagining it all.

But it was nice to pretend.

Chapter Text

Victim: But seriously, what is the real plan here that has to do with not fucking around?

Dark: There is no plan that does not involve fucking around. But we will make sure all of our fucking around will be applied in a constructive direction.

Second, texting in the group chat: I wonder what Apple shots would look like?

Blue: *Sends a picture of a syringe with an apple slice shoddily edited inside*

Red: *Sends a picture of a shot glass with an Apple poorly drawn inside*

Green: *Sends picture of himself dunking a basketball into the hoop but replaced the basketball with a poorly resized apple*

Second: I hate all of you.

*During Vic’s funeral in the bad ending*

Dark, glaring at Victim's coffin: We are gathered here today because SOMEBODY. Couldn't stay alive.

Second: What if one day you just suddenly turned into an almond and you couldn't scream or do anything about it because you were just a fucking almond?

Yellow: Are you okay?

Chosen: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?

Dark: Probably because l'm a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.

Chosen:

Dark: I don't know how you keep forgetting this.

Agent: When's the last time you slept?

Victim: Uh... a few days ago, I think.

Agent: A few- how many?!

Victim: Uh... *starts counting on fingers* I need more fingers...

Agent: What you need is sleep!

Dark, either sleep deprived, drunk, high, or some combination of all of the above: Hey Cho?

Chosen: What?

Dark: What’s your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false?

Chosen:

Chosen: …What.

Dark: I'm going to be an adult in a few years and I only have a vague idea of what I'm going to do.

Chosen: I'm gonna be an adult in less than a year and I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

Victim: I'm an adult and I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

Second: Three types of people.

Green: How the hell are you still alive?

Second: Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are.

Second: It's October, so we must once again draw battle lines between those who like candy corn and those who do not.

Primal: What battle line? Nobody likes candy corn.

Ballista: Fuck you, candy corn is delicious.

Second: And so, the lines are drawn...

Agent to Victim: *cocks gun* Go to bed. This is no longer a request, this is now a threat.

Green: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Victim: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I'm somehow always feeling both simultaneously.

Chosen: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

*After making the deal*

Second: This is a mistake.

Red, enthusiastically: A mistake we’re going to laugh about one day!

Second: But not today.

Red, just as enthusiastically: Oh, no. Today’s going to be a mess.

Second: Vic, I’m sad.

Victim: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay.

Dark: Cho, I’m sad.

Chosen: *Nodding* Mood.

*Victim and Second sitting in jail together*

Second: So who should we call?

Victim: I’d call Agent, but I honestly feel safer in jail.

Victim: I think I’m having a midlife crisis.

Agent: You’re 18.

Victim: I MIGHT DIE AT 36!

Second: Dark and I were crossing the street, and this guy drove by and honked at us.

Chosen: *Sighing* What did Dark do?

Second: He chased him to the next red light, reached into his window and…

Dark: Who wants a steering wheel?

Dark: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying ‘Haven’t decided yet’ is typically a good response.

Victim: You’re the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Agent: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Victim: Absolutely not.

Chosen: This is such a bad idea.

Dark: Then why are you coming along?

Chosen: One of us needs to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Chapter Text

Day 7: Sick/Illness

Hollowheads worked in a very interesting way.

It was easy to think that since they had an immunity to deletion-based powers (And maybe even code-based powers in general), that they would naturally be less susceptible to diseases than other sticks. That's what made sense, after all.

Apparently, that was not the case. In fact, it seemed to work in the exact opposite way from what was expected.

And Victim had to figure that out the hard way.

He woke up early, same as normal, but couldn’t find the will to move because everything just hurt. The room was somehow hot and cold at the same time, leaving him in the very frustrating position of being covered by only half of the blanket, not wanting to pull it up more or take it off completely.

He knew he had to get up. He had work to do. There were chores that needed done. There was work around the office, sure, but those things he could easily leave to Agent.

Everything else, on the other hand…

He needed to get up.

But he didn't.

Second knew something was wrong as soon as he woke up and saw the lights were still out.

Victim was still in bed, a rarity at this time of day. His blanket was half draped over him, and while he was clearly awake, he didn't make any move to fix it.

"Vic?" He asked worriedly.

[…]

Day 16: Coffee/Tea Break

A common point of disagreement between Victim and Second was one that almost no one would ever suspect.

It wasn’t about Victim’s habit of drenching anything possible in chocolate syrup, nor Second swearing by his (objectively wrong) opinion that pumpkin pie was better than apple.

No, it was about their taste in drinks.

“You’ve just never had good tea before, that’s why.”

“Exactly. On the other hand, I’ve had plenty of great coffee.”

“Whatever, it’s just glorified bean water anyway.”

Victim nearly choked. How dare his brother disrespect his bean water that way?

“What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.”

Before Victim could come up with a retort, the elevator doors opened, putting an end to the discussion for the time being.

“Ah, Agent. Did you need something?” He asked with a clearly forced grin.

Agent took one look at him, then at the satisfied smirk Second was wearing, and sighed.

“Do I even want to know what happened before I came in?”

“We were just talking about how Vic-“

“Oh, it was nothing important.” Victim cut Second off. “Just a bit of banter between siblings, you know how it is.”

He didn’t, but whatever.

[…]

Day 17: Heirloom Candles

“Dark, what’s in that bag?”

Dark sat said bag on the table, ignoring the question as he went back to get the others.

“Dark!”

“What?”

“Answer my question. What’s in the bags?”

There were five of them total, and since this was one of the rare times Dark went out on his own, Chosen didn’t trust a single one of them.

Not after the forest incident.

“It’s just some candles, Cho, relax.”

Some candles? As hard as that was to believe, Chosen had noticed a strong cinnamon smell in the house lately.

Especially in Dark’s room.

“How many did you buy?” Even if Dark had bought candles, there was no way he bought enough to fill up five bags, right?

Right?

“Twenty.”

“Twenty?”

“...In each bag.”

Each bag was from a different store, Chosen noted. Dark had gone to five different stores just to buy candles.

And then it finally clicked.

“You bought a hundred candles.” Chosen looked for any sign that Dark was just messing with him, but the latter’s expression was dead serious.

The forest incident may have been stupid, but this was just confusing.

And also stupid, but mainly confusing.

“Yeah? I mean, I’m obviously not gonna use them all at once, but-”

“You bought a hundred candles.”

[…]

Prompts that were never started but I had ideas for

Day 10: Sadness Books

Second often enjoys reading with his older brother (By which I mean he loves being read to)

Day 11: Comfort Show/Movie

The (supposedly) powerless hollowheads have a Christmas movie marathon... in November

Day 14: Late Night Phone Calls

Vic is out on business for the night and Second is stuck at home wanting to talk to him.

Day 15: Plushies

Victim gives Second a present. Or five.

Day 18: Cuddles

VicAgent brainrot because I have a minor obsession with those two

Day 19: Loved Ones

Mango and Gold have some father-son bonding time

Day 25: Rain

Gold meets Purple on a raining day, literally and metaphorically

Day 27: Soup (Sequel to Sick/Illness)

Second isn’t the greatest chef in the world, but he’s going to try anyway

Day 28: Flashbacks

Victim remembers what happened to him before he ended up in the Outernet

Day 29: Sleepover (Sequel to Rain)

Gold and Purple become besties at the former’s birthday party

Day 30: The New Normal (Sequel to Aftermath)

Victim and Second adjust to their new lives together

Chapter Text

Alan was furious.

He had given his stick figure plenty of chances, a simple set of instructions, and yet he continued to be disappointed.

And he wasn’t about to let it destroy everything again. Not this time.

He wasted no time picking up the tiny stick figure that had given him nothing but trouble for the past few days, ignoring the others, who were all hopelessly trying to stop him. He didn’t see three more sticks entering the PC through the portal, too focused on trying to keep the one he was holding still.

It pleaded for just one more chance, swearing nothing like this would happen again.

Alan wasn’t having it. He was done with the lies and the excuses.

Are you sure you want to delete TheSecondComing.exe?

He didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It was one thing to hear about Second’s prior deletion, to imagine the terror he must have felt at the prospect of dying - on the same day he’d been created, no less.

It was an entirely different thing to witness it in person.

Victim could’ve sworn he felt the Earth stop spinning.

There were screams, terrified and enraged, all directed towards the same being. But it was all muffled to him. He only had one priority at that moment.

He had to get to that recycle bin.

As soon as the thought came to him, he sprinted toward the digital prison he knew his youngest sibling was trapped in, not having a plan and not caring enough to make one.

And he almost made it.

His climb up the desktop was abruptly cut short by the cursor picking him up and throwing him aside. The Animator had caught on to what he was trying to do.

Before Victim had a chance to recover, his creator erased everything in the recycle bin.

Permanently.

“What’s your name?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, the kid had been mostly silent since they had found each other. But to his surprise, he actually received a response.

“The Second Coming. Or just Second.”

…Well, his own name was Victim, so he wasn’t going to comment on the uniqueness of that name.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated. As much as he wished he could change his filename, it seemed only his creator could do that. In the meantime…

“You can just call me Vic.”

It was a new day.

Making it about five days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes since he’d lost Second.

For that entire length of time, Victim had all but completely locked himself in his office, focused entirely on one thing and one thing alone.

Vengeance.

While the rescue attempt hadn’t succeeded (According to Chosen and Dark, they were actually close to coming back with fewer sticks than they’d started with), it did give him valuable information.

He had a location, an IP, even, which was much better. He had a power source (He hadn’t yet determined if Chosen would be willing to help, but surely all it would take was a little reminder of what the Animator had done to change his mind).

All he needed was the means to bring someone to their world.

And as though he’d manifested it, a new email entered his inbox.

He only read the first line, the only important information he needed.

‘The Box is finished.’

“Perfect.”

Once every piece of the puzzle was in place, the plan could finally be put into motion.

The Animator had made his final mistake.

And it was going to lead to his downfall.