Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After alll this time... They finally did it.

The mistake they made years ago was near fatal, and the pain made them just want to give up at times, but they knew this had to be done. Even if it took them years to do so.

Their code was still nowhere near what it used to be, their body ached from the damage and their textures were beyond salvaging.

But they did enough. This was enough for them.

This was enough for them to leave.

They hoped it's not too late. Images of the arcade completely taken over by this manipulator on a power trip flooded their mind. If their fears turn out to be true, they'll do anything it takes to fix whatever he's done.

They were equally skilled at coding to him, whatever he could've done, they could repair.

Before finally leaving the lonely, depressing, hopeless cage Turbo left them in 15 years ago, Java searched through remnants of whatever game crashed badly enough to leave behind ruins of code despite being unplugged. They never paid attention to what their "house" of 15 years used to be before its destruction. Judging by the tires and checkered flag laying around with other trash, they assumed it was another racing game. That's already more info than they care to know about.

At last, Java found two pieces of fabric just about large enough to cover their corrupted body with. They tinkered with it in their pixelated hands, and managed to make an ankle length skirt and a hooded poncho. This should be enough for now. Once they reach Sugar Rush, they'll figure out more cover. Their appearance could horrify its residents, and they wouldn't blame them.

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May, 1996.

Back in February, Mr Litwak acquired two matching cabinets brought to his arcade from a warehouse just a few blocks away. Painted on dark blue patterns were chipping off at the corners, but it didn't take away their charm.

The machines were for Faceballerz, a baseball simulator with an interesting gimmick -- you hold your face up to the camera for a picture, and it slaps your face onto your character, putting you inthe game.

It was, frankly, a steal. Their new owner was afraid he might be getting scammed when he saw the resell price, especially upon learning it's the price for both machines. As he had found out, it was an honest listing, luck was just on his side. The arcade could really use some modern games, too. It was like the deal was made for him.

They needed plenty of touchup -- both machines refused to operate properly. One of them needed months worth of work done on it to start up, the other only needed a new camera and a factory reset.

Now, as May is ending and summer vacation is approaching, was the perfect moment to plug in the new games. We'll see if they were worth it.

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"Have you seen what the new guys are, exactly?"

"All I know is they're the exact same game!"

"Ooh, wonder if they're a two-player!"

Chatter spread all across the Game Central Station, characters from games of varying age and genre all mixed together in a crowd in front of the new entrances, waiting for them to open up so they can welcome the new residents.

The right entrance opened first, revealing seventeen baseball players who were recolors of eachother. In the very last wagon, there was the eighteenth character who strangely had no face.

When they stopped at their destination, the characters rhythmically jumped out to meet everyone who waited for them.

"Welcome everybody!" a blue hedgehog opened his arms and smiled at the cast, various protagonists joined him, swapping from greeting one character to another

Main character of one of the longest standing games in the arcade, Fix-it-Felix Jr, started off with greeting the greyish faceless humanoid in a blue cap and jersey, who was still sitting in his wagon.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Fix-It-Felix Jr, from the game Fix-It-Felix Jr" he took off his hat and smiled.

"I don't have an official name, per se, Mr Fix-It," he tipped his hat slightly, "but they call me Ace, to tell apart from the other guy"

"...Other guy?" Felix tilted his head, puzzled yet still smiling.

"What? did Balk and the others not arrive yet?" he chuckled, but it didn't hide his worry.

"Not yet, I'm afraid. No sir."

"They might be recoverin' from the whole warehouse thing," he waved off with his hand, "they can be drama queens at times..."

It took the other cabinet's cast a suspicious amount of time to show up. Through the ten minute long wait, some characters already left Game Central Station, tired of waiting.

When they finally did, Ace immediately left his seat to greet one of them. The one whose appearance matched his like a reflection in the mirror.

"Balk, there you are! Y'all really scared me with that long booting," He energetically reached out a fist, expecting the other batter to bump it with his.

"Oh wow! A twin!" He gently fistbumped Ace, "Balk? Long booting? I don't think I follow"

"Huh?" Ace felt doubt re-enter his system, but he tried to push it down, "Quit jokin' around Balk! No need to make me look crazy, these guys got plenty of time to see for th--"

"Is there a third Faceballerz game around here? I think Balk is from that one, we were just plugged in!" The genuine, helpful tone of the other baseball player said enough. It's not a joke. It's not Balk.

"Y-You're serious..? C'mon... But..."

The conversation got cut short as Ace's non-playable character colleague approached, "Ace, Sonic over there says they've got a Tappers in here," he patted him on the shoulder, "You two comin'?"

Ace faced his clueless carbon copy, and blankly answered, "Just me, Tony. And don't ask Twony to join. He's not coming either."

Tony and Ace walked away, the former sharing a worried look. A nameless batter character was left sitting in his wagon, provided with no context for his clone's outburst.

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May, 2013.

Java thought back on that day as the bright light of Game Central Station assaulted their senses. Was the light as bright back then? Was it so crowded back then? Perhaps they grew accustomed to the dim lighting and dead silence of the rat trap they were stuck in for most of their life. Before sneaking into the sugary racing game, Java looked around to see if Faceballerz is still plugged in.

It wasn't.

Their instincts wanted them to blame themself for it, but they didn't. Java might've been gone all this time, but Ace wasn't. It couldn't have been their fault it was unplugged. Maybe more modern baseball games got plugged in by then, and Faceballerz was deemed useless. It didn't have to be because of their disappearance specifically.

As Java stepped through the entrance, they almost walked by foot through the long hall. Force of habit. They sat down in the wagon, the closer it approached the destination, the stronger the smell of sugar got. It was a nice change, after over a decade worth of smelling nothing but death at all times, they were more than content with the scent of cotton candy and licorice.

The game wasn't in total ruin. In fact, it looked like everything is fine. They decided to stay and observe anyway, who knows what hid behind all the sugarcoating. They'll hide out to learn more.

Chapter Text

May, 1996

Normally, Ace wouldn't go anywhere with Tony, but he couldn't handle the newly learned info sober.

There is no Balk anymore.

He could barely focus on the path he was walked through, let alone the crowd's chatter. There is no Balk anymore. Balk is gone.

They were anything but well looked after in the warehouse, he can still remember how it felt when their game crashed. Stuck in place, frozen yet burning. And then the numbness. The overwhelming, sharp, painful pixels were gone, replaced with a dreadful emptiness. That must've been the moment they were unplugged.

When his world came back, when their game was fixed, he immediately thought of one thing. Balk will be so happy when he sees I'm fine. When he sees I'm alive.

But there was no Balk. They restarted that cabinet. His brother was gone.

Is he now in that same void? Is he doomed to live through that forever? Is he even anywhere?

That new faceballer is nothing compared to Balk. He'll never be anything. He's nothing like Balk. And yet he looks exactly like him.

"What happened?" Tony snapped Ace out of his train of thought. He smiled empathetically, "You're awfully quiet, and you were pretty cold with Balk. Did you two have a fight?"

He stared at the counter where he rested his arms. Several empty beer mugs in front of him. He didn't pay attention to how much he drank at all, consumed by his thoughts. He sharply whispered; "...Balk is gone. All of them are."

"W-What? What do you mean?" the npc stuttered as his smile dropped. "Was their game...."

Ace nodded shakily, "Restarted." He murmured.

"RESTARTED!?" another character gasped. Everyone close enough to hear went dead quiet, only whispers could be heard. All of them repeating the word. Every single time they did, it hurt Ace like a knife stabbing through his chest. Suddenly all eyes seemed to be on him, and he could feel their pity crush him.

"Balk, the other guy, he was like a brother to me," he opened up, "We were inseparable, our games... they were together everywhere since day one." He took a big gulp of his drink, "I was sure I'll be gone before him"

"That sounds terrible, I can't imagine what that must feel like..." Felix patted Ace's back. His attempt at comforting didn't help, but it's nice he tried.

"I never even got to say goodbye," he slurred out, "One day he's there, and next there's this... Clueless nameless little..." he rested his head on his arms.

"You're Ace, right?" He flinched at the familiar voice, his hope shattered the moment it appeared. It sounded like Balk, but it was the new guy again. His existence itself hurt Ace. "I wanted to talk."

"What could we possibly talk 'bout...." His irritated voice was muffled by the sleeves of his shirt.

"I think we started off the wrong foot, is all."

"Started off the wrong foot..." He parroted as he stared at the nameless faceballer.

The batter before him got so disgustingly upbeat, "Exactly! With that whole Balk thing and--"

Ace stood up from his seat so rapidly he felt he might fall, but he didn't care. "Don't you dare call Balk a thing. He was my best friend, my brother...." He grabbed the horrified baseball player by the collar of his shirt, "And you? You replaced him. His game was restarted, and it left you in his place," Ace grabbed on tighter as he felt the humanoid try to escape, and raised his voice; "My brother is dead and you're wearing his corpse."

As he let go, the batter fell to the ground. He pushed himself away from Ace and stuttered shakily; "I-I didn't know. I-I'm so- so sorry. So sorry"

He sprinted out, and Ace felt the weight of what he'd done. That guy just started life, and that's his welcome. He was so scared, and none of this is even his fault. The regret he felt was indescribable. He sat back down and stared at his hands, the same ones that held the clueless batter in place as he yelled.

He'll try to make things right.

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May, 2013

Java walked through the candy cane forest and dragged various pieces of candy behind them. There were enough resources in Sugar Rush for them to even pick out a theme for their hoard of items. They went with everything cherry flavored -- a cherry flavored rope of licorice, a large scarf made of a sour cherry gummy, and a flat, swirly, cherry hard candy. The last one was going to be turned into a mask.

Once they felt they're far away enough from where the game's characters reside, they laid down on the pink land, allowing themself a break before their planned investigation. It felt good to rest in a place that wasn't so... rotten. Just sitting in a world as clean as this almost made Java feel like they matter for once.

The hooded traveler looked up at the sky. Cotton candy clouds surrounded the cabinet's square screen. They looked through it, taking in all the games that have been plugged in during their imprisonment.

There were no baseball simulators, debunking their theory on Faceballerz' disappearance. It ached them for a moment, but then again they didn't know what happened during those 15 years, the game could've had a good life.

Java couldn't help but glanced at Tapper's and shuddered. The lingering feeling of dread made their ears ring. Before it took them over, they forced themself to look away.

Time heals wounds, unless you were too busy taking care of bigger ones, I suppose.