Work Text:
We are one Alan Becker
Soon you will understand
Our mission,
To Destroy…..
Let’s play God, Alan!
The room was filled with screams, and everyone else seemed scared. But Alan felt an indescribable sense of exhilaration, as if he were under the influence of something intoxicating. Confusion washed over him. What was happening? Where was Alan?
Wait... Who is Alan? No, it couldn't be. He is Alan.
As he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't comprehend the sight before him. Lifeless stick figures lay scattered on the floor, their bodies motionless.
The air was filled with a deafening alarm, blaring relentlessly.
The sound pierced his ears, blending with the overwhelming presence of blood. Panic gripped him. Where was everyone? What had unfolded in this place?
"Alan... remember who we are." A whisper echoed through the chaos, sending a shiver down his spine.
Who was speaking? And who was AB-006? The mention of that name stirred a sense of familiarity within him, but the memories remained elusive.
Alan stood amidst the wreckage, his mind reeling with disbelief. How could he possibly be AB-006?
His name was Alan Becker, not some experiment named AB-006. He struggled to comprehend the shattered test tubes and the sharp fragments of glass scattered across the floor, a testament to the chaos that had unfolded.
Amidst the turmoil, a desperate voice cut through the air, pleading for help. Alan's attention was drawn to a wounded stick figure lying on the floor, bleeding and in pain.
A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him as he approached the figure, his hand instinctively gripping their neck.
"Please, spare me! My son needs me to come home!" the stick figure begged, their voice filled with fear and desperation as they fought against Alan's grip.
they struggled desperately in Alan's grasp, their cries echoing in the room. Alan's head tilted, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing within him.
He tightened his grip on the stick figure's neck, momentarily losing control, before abruptly releasing them, sending their body tumbling away. Alan was overcome with sickness and horror.
What was happening? What was he doing? This nightmare needed to stop, and someone had to intervene.
Alan, or perhaps AB-006, heard a voice that seemed to emanate from within himself. It was a distorted voice, gravelly and filled with static, as if multiple voices converged into one.
"Alan, we are one and the same. Come to me. I destroy the bad, and you create the new," AB-006 declared, asserting their connection with Alan, or at least the persona he had known as himself.
Confused and alarmed, Alan questioned the meaning behind these cryptic words. "What do you mean? Destroy the bad, create the new?" he asked, seeking clarification.
AB-006's voice took on a gleeful and excited tone as they responded, "Yes, don't you see? I am doing everyone a favor. I will cleanse everything from its sins, the dirty codes…"
The gravity of the situation began to sink in for Alan, leaving him speechless and unable to reply.
"Speak, Creator. I want your answer," AB-006 demanded, their voice carrying a dangerous edge.
If Alan had any control over his body, he would have been trembling in fear. Terrified, he managed to stammer a response,
"I... I can't." Doubt lingered in his words as he wondered if this was all just a horrific nightmare.
"Creator, are you getting cold feet now? Didn't you believe that everything was just lines of code, devoid of meaning?" AB-006's voice reverberated with an ominous chuckle, gradually distorting into static.
"I... I used to think that way, but things have changed," Alan replied, his voice heavy with remorse and guilt.
The realization hit him that he had always treated his creations as mere playthings, even when he was still human.
A few months ago fighting Dark felt like a game (it was a game for him in that moment), and he would feign detachment, throwing rocks while assisting Chosen.
But now, he questioned if he had truly evolved beyond that mindset. Did he still lack care and empathy?
After all, he was human, and they were... just stick figures, products of his own creation (what is he saying, they aren’t just stick figures, they are his kids)
"Have you truly changed, Alan? My dear, you have always lacked empathy. You are more of a monster than a human," AB-006 chuckled with amusement.
"We are the perfect match, for I am you, and you are me." Its laughter boomed loudly, filling the room with an eerie echo.
"No, no! Get out! This is nothing more than a twisted nightmare," Alan exclaimed, his voice on the verge of hysteria.
"Is that your answer? Alan Becker, mark my words, you will live to regret your decisions. Everything you hold dear will wither and die in your hands," AB-006 declared, punctuated by an unsettling chuckle.
"You can't do that! You can't make me! Over my dead body!" Alan retorted, his anger boiling over. The ground beneath them trembled in response to his booming voice, as if echoing his defiance.
AB-006 paid no heed, continuing to laugh. "Is that so? Then your wish is my command, Creator," it replied, the tone of its voice dropping ominously. Suddenly, everything around them faded away.
Alan's vision became engulfed in static, as if his connection to reality had been severed. It felt as though he was drowning, unable to move or escape.
Panic surged through him as he desperately called out for help. "Someone, please... help!"
"Alan? Alan, wake up!" Chosen's voice filled with panic as he cradled Alan in his arms. Soon, Alan's seizing subsided, and Chosen whispered softly, "Hey, hey." He felt relief wash over him when he sensed Alan slowly regaining consciousness.
"Cho? What... what just happened?" Alan inquired, his gaze filled with confusion. Chosen looked at him with concern, his worry palpable.
"You fell asleep in the garden, and I was carrying you back when you started seizing in my arms. Are you alright?" Chosen gently helped Alan stand, supporting him as he stumbled.
"I did? Oh... I think I'm alright," Alan mumbled, his head filled with a jumble of thoughts and static. Was it all just a dream? If so, why did it feel so vividly real?
Chosen continued to watch Alan with worry as he seemed lost in thought. "Alan, stay with me. What just happened?" Chosen shook Alan's shoulder, causing him to flinch.
"I'm not sure... sorry. I think I had a nightmare or something," Alan admitted, feeling a slight embarrassment at confessing his experience, as if he were still a child.
Chosen gave him a concerned glance before guiding Alan to sit back down on the couch.
"You should rest a bit before getting up again," Chosen suggested, attempting to suppress the anxiety that had built up from his recent encounter with Rocket Corp and Alan's sudden seizure.
Both of them fell into a contemplative silence. Alan groaned a few times, rubbing his head in confusion.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Chosen asked suddenly, catching Alan off guard.
"Oh... uh," Alan stammered, a bit taken aback by Chosen's offer.
"It's better to talk about it if it scares you that much," Chosen suggested. Alan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Oh, it's really nothing. I mean, I've already forgotten about it!" Alan replied, trying to dismiss the impact of his experience.
"Ah, alright," Chosen responded, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. What was he thinking, asking Alan to open up when they weren't even that close?
Alan noticed Chosen's internal struggle and let out a chuckle. "Thank you, really. I appreciate that," Alan expressed his gratitude.
Chosen looked away, sighing heavily. "Look, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always here," he said, offering a reassuring pat on Alan's shoulder.
"Thank you, Chosen. But you should go rest now. I've already taken up too much of your time," Alan suggested.
Chosen shook his head. "No time was wasted, but yes, I'll be going now. Good night, Alan," he bid farewell, waving his hand before leaving.
Alan watched Chosen as he left, feeling a sense of longing. He let out a sigh, reflecting on the events that had unfolded.
It's better not to think about stupid nightmares…..Alan is good at that, pretending to be okay.
.
.
.
.
Alan sighed, his gaze fixed on the gentle sway of his flowers. The sleepless night had left him restless, opting to lie down and stare at the ceiling. With the arrival of a new day, he sought solace in the tranquility of his garden.
The haunting memory of the dream lingered, etching its vividness into his mind. It sent shivers up his spine each time he dared recall it.
Shaking his head, Alan refocused on the task of watering his flowers. "Alan?" a voice called out. He turned to find Chosen standing behind him. "Oh, you're still here," Alan greeted him with a pleasant smile.
In Chosen's hands, a cake awaited. "Me and Dark decided to bake you a cake. Well, Dark did most of the job and told me to deliver it to you," Chosen explained, offering the cake to Alan, who looked at him in surprise. "I-I thank you! Please convey my gratitude to Dark as well."
With a contented smile, Alan stowed the cake away in his inventory. Suddenly, Chosen grasped his arm.
"Huh?" Alan questioned, taken aback as he was urged towards the nearby bench. Chosen gently pushed him to sit down.
"Woah, what's wrong?" Alan inquired, concern etching his features.
"I advise you to rest. Sometimes, when people become too exhausted, nightmares can haunt their sleep," Chosen advised, his voice laced with genuine care.
Alan chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the moment. "Alright, did you look that up on Google?" he jested, though it seemed to only exacerbate Chosen's annoyance.
"Alan, I'm telling you to rest, okay? I can take care of watering your flowers," Chosen insisted, taking hold of the watering can.
Confusion flickered across Alan's face. "What? No, it's fine. This is practically a form of rest for me as well," he protested, stifling a yawn.
In response, Chosen's hand met his own face in a mix of exasperation and annoyance.
A blush crept onto Alan's cheeks, embarrassment tingling through his body. "Well, I guess you're right," he admitted, unable to contain a giggle.
"If you get sick, I won't even help you," Chosen said with a hint of tease in it, causing Alan to nervously scratch the back of his head. After all, he had barely managed to sleep a wink the previous night.
"Do stick figures even get sick?" Alan pondered, genuinely curious. "They do, especially you. So I strongly advise you to go back home, retreat to your room, close the blinds, and get some sleep," Chosen replied, the hint of annoyance in his voice betraying his concern.
Raising both hands in a surrendering gesture, Alan relented. "Alright, alright, Cho. I'll go home and rest, gotcha," he promised, placing the watering can down on the bench.
"And be sure to enjoy that cake," Chosen called after him as Alan distanced himself.
"Alright! See you!" Alan shouted back, a smile playing at his lips. Chosen huffed a sigh, watching Alan's figure fade into the distance.
He then picked up the watering can, resuming the task of nourishing the flowers that Alan had left behind.
Alan really needed to take better care of himself, Chosen thought, his mind wandering as he hummed the same tune Alan had been singing the night before. Perhaps gardening provided a sense of relaxation for Chosen as well.
.
.
.
.
Because of your selfishness, the blood of the innocents will be in your hands Alan Becker…….
You are nothing but a monster.
you never changed Alan Becker.
And you will never change.
A monster remains a monster.
Let your Guilt consume you, Alan.