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The trial was almost over.
The evidence was undeniable, loose threads still hung around spotty details, but overall it was a closed and shut case. The specifics were known, everyone gave their testimony. All there was left to do was come to the finale verdict. Punishment– justice– would be administered accordingly.
But no judge can come to a final decision without something to wash it down.
The door to the deliberation room opened to the sounds of intellectual discussion. Sounds that fizzled out once they realized they had company. A plethora of judges sat around the table, all eyes now focused on who entered their chamber of law and order.
Isaac stood there carrying a tray of coffee.
They wasted no time with the platitudes, “Good afternoon! Hard at work I see!”
Many of the judges looked visibly confused, but only one spoke up with an inquiry. “Hello, Isaac… wasn’t the person delivering our drinks supposed to be an Intern?”
“Oh, don’t worry!” They started passing out the cups to everyone in arms length, “I’m on my lunch break! And since I’m not doing anything, I figured I’d take some weight off their shoulders!” They smiled widely as they spoke, contrasting the stone faces of everyone else in the room.
“That’s mighty kind of you,” another judge spoke up.
“It’s nothing–”
“I didn’t order a mocha!” A third judge barked out, causing Isaac to turn on their heel with an apology.
“I’m so sorry! Here, let me just…” they passed the correct order down the table, catching the mocha as it slid against the wood right into their palm.
They continued to make their way around the table, passing out orders with haste… and replacing them with the correct caffeine at the same pace. There were far too many cups in their tray, and far too many individuals at the table. But they couldn’t complain, they took this task with a desperate grin.
“I just want to say,” they began again as they held an espresso in their free hand. “We all at the Gameworks are forever grateful for the work you do to keep us all safe. I give my personal thanks to each– sorry! I’ll fix it!– and every one of you.”
“And we can thank you for the coffee, Isaac.” This time, the judge’s voice was familiar to them. Their eyes darted to the source of the compliment.
Judge Doug patiently awaited his coffee, paws folded onto each other and a stern face kept. Despite the look, there was a notable softness in his tone. Isaac and Doug weren’t best friends or anything, but he kept humbleness when it came to food deliveries. No dog could resist a bone, and one with manners will always thank whoever gave it to him with a warm voice.
Isaac couldn’t hide their excitement as they made their way down the table to reach Doug’s spot, continuing the routine of quickly yelling “sorry!” and swapping out a coffee cup every few judges.
Now at his side, they gave the judge besides him their order. They did this carefully, ensuring the order wasn’t incorrect in the slightest. They needed a good impression.
Their heart pounded in their chest as they opened their mouth to speak.
It was now or never, and this was urgent.
“I can’t begin to imagine how stressful this is for all of you… such hard hitting decisions, so many factors to consider…”
A few at the table made quips about this being a simple part of the job. They nodded, though they kept their eyes on the dog. Their hands still grasped the coffee cup, leaving the judge waiting to be served confused.
“I can only hope justice is administered properly and with care… because lord knows some of those patrons have fared better than others.”
Minor conversations had arisen during Isaac’s deliveries, simple small talk and mindless chatter. Silence returned once more. All eyes were now on the Admin. All they could do was keep a neutral expression as they started to inch towards Doug.
“What do you mean by that, Isaac?” It was a fair question.
“What I mean is… amongst all those who participated in the ritual, some have sins that outweigh the others. Looking at their track records, aside from what happened that night, they have no prior history. No incidents or crimes. Such as Mr. McClain!” They grabbed onto Doug’s order, holding it firmly as they finally stood right beside him. “The only killing he’s done prior to this was within the confines of turn based combat! And Mx. Perspective–”
“Who?” A question asked across from Doug.
“First Person Perspective, ma’am!” Isaac answered chipperly. “The textureless one. That’s their name. First Person Perspective.” They turned back to slide the coffee in front of the main judge.
“As I was saying, Mx. Perspective also has no prior records of criminal behavior. They were created rather recently, in fact! All things considered… this was their first crime. Their only crime, I should say.”
They could feel the tension in the air growing thicker as they lingered. Doug had taken the coffee by now, side glancing the Admin as they passed by him to reach the next judge in line. Truthfully, they wanted to throw up, but they couldn’t back down.
“You’re implying something here.”
“I’m just repeating what everyone here already knows. Everyone else has a history of crimes against the Gameworks or fellow NPCs. Mx. Perspective and Mr. McClain are the only ones without any ties to a previous incident…” their hand lingered on the coffee cup again. “And even then, Mx. Perspective didn’t react with hostility when they were taken into custody.”
A judge to the far left introjected with “They ran.”
“Yes! Yes, I’m well aware!” Isaac dangled the next coffee cup in the air, “And I can’t blame them. N-not that I think it was a smart decision, but I think if I was in a similar situation– surrounded on all sides by criminals, ceiling caving in on me– I’d try to get as far away as possible. They were scared , and their reaction was flight rather than fighting back. I think that’s indicative of something.”
The next judge slowly took their coffee from Isaac’s hands, eyeing them with intrigue. “If I may repeat myself; they’re a recently created character, they barely had time to settle into their own body before the ritual occurred. There was memory serum in the basement! Whatever that is! …I don’t think they were given a chance to truly make their own decisions before they were sought out for the ritual. They weren’t given a chance to start off with a pure heart.”
Before someone else could refute Isaac’s point, the dominos began to fall into place. Doug had been sipping from his cup ever since he received it, but now he put it down with a thud. Attention was drawn back to him, silencing the room with a single motion. Isaac’s ears twitched as he cleared his throat.
“Isaac… I think this is the first time I’ve heard you speak your mind.” He looked over at them with a smile, though it wasn’t fully friendly. He wasn’t being threatening by any means, but it was clear there was more morbid curiosity laced in his voice than genuine care for hearing the Admin speak.
However, it wasn’t a dismissal of their idea. All they needed was to be entertained, if only for a second. The pounding in their chest changed from fear to a mix of anxiety and excitement. They just needed to play it cool, keep giving their pitch. They needed those eyes on them. They needed to keep the conversation going. “I suppose I’m just passionate!”
“And I’m pleasantly surprised. We’ve worked together for many years, have we not?” He hummed, going in for another sip of coffee.
“Mhm! You know, I think I’m older than half the judges in this room. Maybe even all of you! Hardly anyone remembers the Gameworks’ launch, hah!” A joke always lightens the mood, though the judge they did finger guns at didn’t reciprocate the gesture. They were working down the table again.
“I just never expected your ‘passion’ to revolve around our court system. Other Admins have shown a clear interest in the trial… but none have tried to defend the culprits.” He sat up straight in his chair while their shoulders sank. “Quite the opposite. What stakes do you have in this?”
A challenge. This was a direct challenge. No good businessman wears their cards on their sleeve during a pitch, and they knew their exact motives would be questioned to Upper Management and back. If this impromptu meeting didn’t go their way, they’d surely be seeing their maker in some form.
With a hum, they responded, “None. I’m just giving my two cents on the facts of the case. And what’s been presented shows how dangerous some are compared to others.”
Someone who wasn’t the dog in a wig spoke up. “Are you sure you’re not letting your sentimentality get the better of you? The most “innocent” are the old man who lost his mind and the one without a face… it’s telling.”
The implication of their statement was obvious to the Admin. They were being accused of playing defense attorney. Frankly, they needed it, given the state of their communication abilities at the moment…
Isaac stood there, the tray finally nearly empty.
There was no use in playing coy.
They had a point to make, a thesis to create, and there was no better time. They picked up one of the final coffee orders and passed it to their left. They gulped.
“I’m not naive.” They began. “My faith compels me to believe in forgiveness, and while that’s a virtue I stand by, I know this truly evil act cannot be undone. I believe in justice all the same.”
They murmured an apology as they swapped an order before continuing, “Appropriate, fitting justice; one where the scale is balanced. What occurred at that inn… well, it’s unfathomable. The damage– sorry!– is irreparable. They– ah! My apologies!– participated in an act that many thought was impossible! However; I don’t think those with a clean slate– aside from this ultimate sin– should be in the same boat as the others.”
Four more left. They walked slowly down the table, voice growing mellow as they monologued. “They have the chance at redemption, to learn from their sins and repent for helping take Mr. Snill’s life… while the others have continuously attacked the Gameworks and have ruined the lives of a myriad of employees, and would surely target us again if they weren’t seized when they were. I’ll swap that in a second, so sorry.”
Three more left. Their throat felt sore. “One human soul is nothing compared to the hundreds of lives lost during the Gameworks raid.”
Two more. They turned back to the main judges. They needed to speak their mind once and for all.
“An event that nearly cost me my own life .”
They maintained eye contact as they placed the final two drinks down. They could hear a pin drop with how quiet the room had become. Doug met their gaze with as much intensity as they had giving that speech.
They looked down at their wrist, as if they had a watch.
“Look at the time! I think I should be heading back now. Theodore is expecting me!” They heard murmuring from the last two judges, most likely to tell them they gave the wrong drinks to the wrong people. It wasn’t Isaac’s problem, they could swap cups easily.
Before they opened the door, they gave one last plea to the jury. “...Please do consider what I’ve said. I don’t think any blood should be shed when that same blood barely touched the artifact. The Gameworks stands for progress and development… and I think we can make something work out for the less fortunate.”
Everyone stared at Isaac. Including Doug. They had to squint to notice it… but they could make out the faintest nod from the main judge. Bingo.
With a hopeful smile, they exited the deliberation room.
The warmth they felt couldn’t even be crushed by who was there to greet them.
Irene– very obviously begrudgingly– agreed to lead them to the room after they had to admit they got lost amongst the Gameworks’ winding halls. In their defense, they’ve rarely needed to be around the courthouse, much less go behind the scenes and mingle with the jury. They made sure to apologize for wasting her time on the walk there.
In a chipper tone they hummed, “You waited for me? That’s very kind of you–”
“You took longer than expected.” The statement was blunt and direct, as typical for Irene.
“Um… my apologies–”
“You were just delivering coffee, what could have possibly taken so long?” She began to walk away, heels clicking as she strutted down the hallway. She expected Isaac to follow behind her. They always did.
Running to catch back up to her, they claimed, “Oh! It was a simple mistake! I gave the wrong coffee to the wrong people, and so I had to go around the room swapping drinks. That room is quite large! Packs far too many people in it, if I can be honest.”
They could hear her tongue click. Their statement was a half-truth, which helped them deliver it without stammering. Still, the tension in the air remained thick.
“And there was zero chitchat? Be honest with me, Isaac.”
They smiled, “Well… yes! There was! But it was nothing more than standard small talk. They thanked me and I thanked them! Standard procedures.”
Another half-truth. They hoped their grin was enough to mask the way their palms started to sweat; they had to cover up their nervous chuckle with a cough.
“Hmm.” They couldn’t see her face, she moved with such haste that it was impossible to get a clear view of her expression. They had to choose keeping up with her rather than getting a grasp of her thought process. A brief silence followed, one that made Isaac’s stomach drop.
“You’d think an older model would have… a better grasp on time management!”
Isaac’s anxiety and concern was now replaced with indignation. They sighed, not bothering to formulate a rebuttal. Instead, they simply murmured, “You can teach an old dog new tricks… eventually.”
“And I’m sure Mr. Knight will. Speaking of which, I think it’s high time we’ve both returned to our stations, no?” Ever punctual, ever devoted to the job. Those coffee deliveries were cutting into Isaac’s break time.
“Actually, Theodore isn’t working on anything today! I just have my spell checks–”
Irene had already made a noticeable distance between herself and Isaac, leaving them with their needless clarification outside of earshot. There was no reason to chase after her, it was clear she did her job and was pushing them to do their own.
They couldn’t tell if she believed their little white lies. She surely didn’t push their responses any further. Then again, Irene worked in efficient and pragmatic ways. Knowing her, she’d go straight for the judges and inquire about what was said if she suspected any foul play. That thought made them gulp.
They were just thankful they got let off the hook so easy.
***
Their syntax editing was a standard routine, one that was unabashedly monotonous and mind numbing. For hours on end, they’d sift through unresolved syntax errors and highlight just where the coder messed up so their Admin can resolve it for them before they open the program. Usually, they’d experience the same kinds of errors; improper usage of punctuation and indentation. Standard misspellings were also common.
They’d seen every combination of mistakes at this point. The only unique thing that could be thrown at them would be complete gibberish, and even then, they’d just glumly sigh at the sight of it. It was work, a far more honest task than most Admins had, but nothing engaging.
The stacks of unedited and edited code were about even by this point. They could feel their wrist cramping from all the highlighting and corrections they were making. It was about time they took a break.
Letting the red pen roll out of their hand, they scooted their office chair towards their desk drawers.
Their office was simple. And rarely visited. Still, they glanced back at the door to do one final check. The door knob wasn’t rattling and they couldn’t hear approaching footsteps. They had ample time for their pick-me-up.
They opened their desk drawer and rummaged through its contents. This particular drawer was home to spare worksheets and copy paper, just in case they needed to refill the printer on the fly or the amount of syntax corrections couldn’t be filled out in the margins. It’d be the last place to check for something… out of place. At least, that’s what Isaac hoped.
The fingers finally traced the edge of what they were looking for. Slipped between the stacks of paper was something important. Something that only their eyes should be allowed to see.
FPP’s mugshot.
The Gameworks never released physical copies. That night at the printer was nerve wracking, making sure no one caught them in the middle of making a personal souvenir of a criminal. They even used the fancy, thick paper to ensure its durability. It was all worth it.
With the portrait firmly between their fingers, Isaac’s tired expression shifted. Their ears started to flutter slightly, the tips feeling just as warm as their face and their chest. They were sure their cheeks were tinted purple already.
FPP was an enigmatic figure, and yet they were bursting with personality in the courtroom. They couldn’t speak, both because of the lack of mouth and the casts around both of their arms, but Isaac could see emotion brimming from every part of their featureless face. The way they looked into the courtroom cameras, the way they cocked their head when asked questions, the mere way they sat in the pews themselves… it was so charismatic.
So tantalizingly charming.
Isaac never pegged themself as a lover of “bad boys” before they saw FPP, but their demeanor was impossible to ignore. They remained calm and collected, though their passion for wooing the crowd was evident. They were a little socialite, clearly! One burdened by a lack of vocalization! They deserved to have their arms heal; they deserved a proper avenue for communication. Whether they signed or wrote their thoughts down, Isaac wanted to hear every word. Their handwriting was probably gorgeous; flowing cursive to accentuate the beauty of both their prose and themself. It’d be the dream if they didn’t make common grammar mistakes!
Regardless, Isaac just wanted to listen. They figured they could listen to FPP talk all day if given the chance. They wanted to see this charisma on full display, and they’d hang onto every word no matter the subject.
And that wasn’t even mentioning how beautiful they were. Their design was unique, so unlike the usual protagonists and player characters Isaac would see roaming the Gameworks halls. The lack of texture gave way to a gorgeous specimen. They fawned over FPP’s pitch black complexion and their grey hands, the gradient between them being a striking pixelation that looked incredibly pleasant on the eye. And those purple accents! That question mark right on their face sealing the mysterious deal while still making them standout amongst the crowd! The way they dressed was so elegant, too (from what they heard from the first responders, anyways); the golden touches, the large hat, and the nearly pitch black wardrobe nearly cloaked them in perfect mystique!
They were so tall, too. Taller than Isaac and seemingly everyone else in the inn. It was… impressive. And their hands looked so soft yet firm. Would they be warm to the touch, or icy cold? They’d love to find out! The thought of holding FPP’s hand made them giggle with delight.
It’d be a damn shame if they got redesigned. Isaac couldn’t imagine the horror of waking up one day and having a completely different face. And they couldn’t imagine FPP with any other face. They were perfect just the way they were, nothing could be an improvement, and knowing the Gameworks… they wouldn’t be looking to improve the textureless humanoid in the first place.
The dorky grin on their face slowly shifted to a slight frown. Their eyes focused on the mugshot again, honing in on every pixel that made up that perfect image. With a huff, they leaned the photo against their monitor. They pushed their chair out just enough so they could properly lean on their desk, making direct eye contact where FPP’s eyes should be.
Isaac couldn’t let anything extreme happen to them.
They were realistic; FPP was an accomplice in quite possibly the worst crime a player character has ever committed, they wouldn’t be let off completely scot-free. Still, some punishments were far harsher than others. They wouldn’t get a slap on the wrist, but they wouldn’t get executed either!
Of course, they weren’t a member of the court. And they couldn’t run onto the stand and make their case there. They weren’t a witness by any means, and such a grand display of bias and affection would be… corny. Plus, their coworkers would kill them!
They had to take that Intern’s job. If they were going to present their evidence and testimony, it had to be direct and away from the public’s eye. They weren’t doing this for attention, or even to woo over FPP! That’d be nice, but they were far more focused on keeping them alive and well than the possibility of a courthouse meet-cute. Once again, staying realistic.
Objectively, what they did was wrong. If word got out, lord knows what would happen to them. They were an Admin, yes, and one of the older ones… but that didn’t fully excuse them from punishment, did it? Surely Theodore wouldn’t be happy hearing that they interfered with a trial, especially over a little crush. Their coworkers would kill them if they made a declaration of their raw admiration for FPP on the stand, they’d find a way to send Isaac to Hell if they learned about this!
…But wasn’t being underhanded just the Admin way? Plenty of their coworkers went behind their superior’s backs, whether that be to climb the corporate ladder or to achieve some petty goal. This was just the nature of the workplace; cutthroat and malicious. Isaac was just finally using this tactic for themself! For FPP’s safety!
And objectively, what they said about Rust was true. He also had a relatively clean slate compared to his fellow patrons… but their true goal was always FPP. They needed to hide their clear bias by extending an olive branch to someone else in need. It’d be great if Mr. McClain got off easy, too, but Isaac’s mind wasn’t fully there. They needed their plan to work.
And now the seed was planted.
They could only hope it’d grow into something beautiful. They couldn’t bear the thought of learning FPP’s dire fate… one so unbecoming of them, one they didn’t deserve. For a brief moment, the haunting idea of asset repurposing flashed in their mind. That’s what Irene suggested time and time again, and given the nature of the crime… it was a very likely possibility.
They could only hope and pray their words– their thinly veiled plea and pressure– worked.
They traced a finger down the sides of FPP’s face. It’d probably feel much better in person. An Admin could dream.
Their eyes glanced back at their paperwork. Right, they had an actual job to do. They groaned, sitting back up in their chair and stretching. At least their wrist didn’t hurt anymore.
They reached for the photo, intending to slip it back in their desk until the next time they needed a pick-me-up… but their hand lingered.
FPP was so pretty. And they were all alone in the office. They rarely got visitors, and those who stopped by never stayed for longer than a minute or two. They were lonely. That was the honest, blunt truth of it all. They were pathetically lonely.
All things considered… the convict in front of them was probably a good listener.
“Um… I learned a few things about Walk over the course of the trial,” they chuckled anxiously, “And I can say with certainty that a walking simulator like that never had you correct spelling! It’s really easy though, if, uh… annoying. But I think having someone to talk to will make it easier!”
They could pretend the picture nodded back at them. Wouldn't that be nice?
Their ears fluttered once more.