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Chapter Text

196X, Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey 

Ford looks at his hands in embarrassment and anxiety, he wishes he could just cut if off if it didn't hurt or had any consequences. Sighing in defeat, all he could do is look at them with hatred and guilt.

Stanley noticed this look after getting Crampelter to leave. This isn't the first time Ford had felt this way and Stan is planning on making him change his mind about it even if it takes a while. He pats Ford's back."Hey, don't listen to those idiots."

Ford had already accepted that no one would like him for being born the wrong way. Sure his family accepted it, but what about society? "But I am a freak! I just wonder if there's anywhere in the world where weirdos fit in..."

"Hey, chin up buddy. Look, one of these days, you and me are going to sail away from this dumb town." Stan brings his right arm around Ford's shoulder, their sunburn skin making contact against each other and the warm sunset across their body.

"We'll hunt for treasures, get all the girls, and be an unstoppable team of adventurers." He lets go of him and walks closer to the lowering ball of light with his fists on each side of his waist. Seems like a promise he will forever remember.

"Pines twins to the Principal's office. Pines twins to the Principal's office."

He listens closely to the Principal's conversation with his parents about Ford through the door. 

He didn't know which was worse, hearing what idiots like Stanley deserved for being such a screw up in more ways than one or hearing Ford slowly drifting apart with a life brighter than his or just Pa saying he's impressed. He knows when someone is down and Pa isn't, judging by the tone he's the opposite.

Pfft- whatever. It's not like sailing across the world with him is better than some college anyway. Ford is definitely gonna choose the Stan o' war over school. Definitely.

.

Ford, did not infact choose the Stan o' war. It's fine, it's totally fine. Heck, it's great! Just great. This afternoon at glass shard beach, Ford kept rambling over and over what that school could provide and what he could gain.  And boy he was happy, at this point it seems like he's showing off more than talking to him at all.

It makes Stanley feels ... Empty, he won't admit but his face shows it for a brief moment. Luckily, Ford didn't see it or suspect a thing. Once they accept Ford, they're going to take him away and soon it will just be Stanley.

He won't remember you, he won't even think of you. An accident, an extra Stan for $3 or better offer!

But hey it's not like he's gonna stay there forever. He'll come home during summer break and continue on rebuilding the boat together just like old times.

Still it's only a few months together and he'll be gone again. Who knows how many birthdays they'll miss celebrating together or the boat rebuilding progress, he knows it'll be a lot slower.

All that stress of Ford leaving gives him a headache so that night he breaks into the school to pace around it's halls while munching on his favorite snack: toffee peanuts.

He stops from his tracks when he spotted Ford's project, two black orbs still moving around in the dark. The more it sways the more mocking it gets and Stan took the bait.

He threw his leftovers to the floor and points at the machine with some spit leaving his mouth. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, DUMB MACHINE!" His right closes into a fists and aims for the table.

.

.

.

His curled up hand stays a few centimeters over the table and shakes with fear. He couldn't bring himself to do it, to him. He had had made an oath to make sure Ford would be safe and happy. He couldn't break it now, not ever.

He takes his hand away from the table and inspects his knuckle and goes back to look at the machine. The noise it makes is probably it's own way of laughing at him and he accepted it. He went back home crying on his bed.

It was the day the admission team arrived to school to inspect each contestants projects. And Ford's feet couldn't control itself vibrating from excitement.

He had took an all nighter to memorize his speech along with a few notes and damn lots of coffee. Not a good combo but he doesn't care.

Not once had they showed a single amazement in anyone's projects or showed any sympathy to their despair. Soon it was Stanford's turn and they looked like they woke up on the wrong side of bed, they're faces means it'll be hard to impress with little to no satisfactory.

Hopefully, his perpetual motion machine will at least make them gasp. 

"Come on, kid. We don't have all day." The tallest man spoke clearly irritated not a single student had impressed them. Ford giggled from excitement and nervousness and reveals them his project.

"S-sorry sir! For my project, I present to you.. A perpetual motion machine!" He gets to the side to let them take sight of his project and to Ford's surprise, they're face widened with sparkle and hope in they're eyes.

Two of them started writing with a smile while the tallest guy spoke. "I'm glad we didn't waste our time here. Welcome to West Coast Tech, Stanford Pines." He brings hand up to Ford expecting him to shake it.

Ford was frozen, shock, and overjoyed. He can feel tears of joy stabbing his eyes as he slowly shook his hand almost breaking his arm and immediately stopped himself. "Ahem, sorry about that but thank you soso much."

"No problem, Stanford. Also you have polydactyl am I right?"

Shit. He forgot to hide it. He goes red from embarrassment and his first instinct was to hide it but then the guy stopped him. 

"No don't hide it! We've got a bunch of weird geniuses like you waiting for you soon. Congratulations, kid."

The group left and headed towards the next student and Ford's heart couldn't stop pumping as if a heart attack is gonna take him. By the time the bell rang he rushed to go back home. His family is gonna be so proud.

Stan had heard the news and the look of happiness and relief on Ford's face knowing he'll be on the other side of the country away from him is like someone had thrown several knives at him. At least he's happy and that's what Stan should care about.

"Lee, Lee- can you believe it?! I got accepted! They even shook my hand! I'll be famous and finally show the world of what I'm capable of!" Ford had ran through their room and shakes Stanley's shoulders aggressively. He couldn't believe a dumb school could make him THAT happy.

"Geez, I heard already when you told ma and pa you weren't being discreet at all! You screamed like a little girl too." Stanley sat up on his bed to get a better look on his twin's face, it looked like when they were kids ma had told them they were going to a water park just so they could go to the dentist without any struggle.

Ford giggled knowing he did sound like one but continued rambling about the infinite possibilities he would gain there. A part of Stan knows they might move on from each other even worse forgotten, he doesn't want Ford to leave. 'but he's not' his mind told him, perhaps this isn't such a bad thing. They could talk on the phone sometimes to see how they were and some occasional visits during summer break. 

"Guess I'll be seeing you on the other side of the country then!" Ford stood up to get back inside.

Maybe it wasn't gonna so bad after all.

After graduation, (yes they're both 18) it was finally time Ford to leave to college. It was 4 am by the time Ford packed his suitcase to leave to college and boy did he pack a lot. Ford is the type of guy to always overthink and ends up bringing things he didn't need. It made him look kinda stupid and ends up breaking his back, Stan and ma tried to stop him from over packing but ended up giving up since Stanford is really stubborn.

Stan offered to drive him using the Stanley Mobile to the airport as a farewell gift and bring ma and pa along but pa refused saying 'its a waste of time'. On the ride, ma sat at the passenger seat and Ford at the back. They all talked about childhood and ma gave some inspirational quotes and tips on how to handle college which was quite handful of them.

They arrived to the airport and helped Ford carry his suitcases and stopped until the entrance. 

"Now you listen close, Stanford. You may be growing up but you're always gonna be my baby, mkay? And once you're there you better have some friends, you go out there and show them what two extra pinkies can do while you have fun." Ma spoke gently to Ford holding his hands with full of adoration. She pinched ford's right cheek teasingly squeezing his face still full of baby fat.

Ford giggled nervously and tries to pry off her hands from embarrassment. "Haha, ma stop! We're in public!" Ma's face is filled with playful anger. "And when has that stopped me from giving you my love? Sure people judge but they're just jealous because they never received any." Ma gestured to Ford to bow down so she could give kisses on his forehead and a crushing hug before letting go. 

Ford lightly touched his forehead wiping it off. "There's no lipstick stain, is there? Be honest." Stan giggled and Ford immediately wipes off the stain off his forehead and some red stain is seen on his sleeve.

Ma taps Stanley's forearm which grabs his attention. "Don't you have anything to say to your brother?" He takes this as his turn to give some motivational speech. He looks at Ford's face and it's full of joy and whimsy which is probably why people bullied him for instead of his hands. He scoffs at the thought and traps Ford in a playful headlock and sends finger guns at him.

"Now I have no idea what your going to do there so all can I can say is: Good luck out there, soldier." Ford punches his forearm lightly and Stan ruffled his hair like the kids they are. Ma is already crying and imagining them as kids, she wipes off her tears with the napkin she brought along. From a distance she could easily tell those were her kids.

"Promise to meet me during summer break will ya, Poindexter?" 

"Of course I will."

They embraced for the last time and Ford could've sworn he heard Stanley crying. "Are you actually crying?" Stan immediately stopped hugging him and went to wipe off the water flowing down his face. "Nuh uh! It's just sweat the airport is usually hot in this hour!"

"Stanley, the sun isn't even up yet. So long, little brother!" Ford added in for his final moment of teasing him and Stan didn't enjoy that at all. "I wish you had no right saying that.."

Ford turned to his heels and headed inside the entrance waving off to them until he is no longer seen by the naked eye. Ma and Stan went back to the parking lot and before Stan could unlock the door Ma had stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I could drive if you want. You ain't supposed to drive with all those tears in the way unless you want to die in a car crash."

It had been a few minutes since Stan had been sniffling with mucus in his nose and the red puffy eyes growing numb and aches each time he touches it.

Stan considered the choices, he drives and kills ma and himself on the other hand ma drives but he suffers through the embarrassment of making his mom drive instead of himself, a grown man. And after all the hard work she has done she doesn't deserve it. Fat chance.

He quickly cleans his face making sure the tears doesn't destroy more of his poor eyesight(he needs glasses) despite the stabbing pain through his eyelids and probably caused a scar or two but he can regret that later.

Once Stanley's eyesight focused as much as possible he drives himself and ma back home. The drive was mostly quiet but there had been some conversations going. Childhood memories, gossip, and some daily task on what Stan is going to do once Stanford isn't there to do.

For the first time Stan isn't going to be there to help defend Ford from bullies so he hoped the boxing lessons had made him improve a little bit to stand up for himself. Does Ford still have trouble choosing which food he wants to eat and makes everyone get stuck in line? Will he have friends to take care of him? Will he accidentally stay in for too long and looks pale as a vampire? Will he still stay up all night to finish his homework? Who is he kidding of course he is, it's college. He can try to stop him from doing so through the phone.

They both arrived home successfully without any accidents. He unlocks the door and lets ma go through first and then himself but then he gets shoved down onto the porch. His back hits the sandpaper like concrete making his arms having a few cuts but he's too focused on why he's pushed off to think about that. 

"Hey! What's the b-..." He stopped as the light through the front door started to become more clearer. 

"Pa...?"

It was dad. He threw a duffle bag at him and it landed against him with an 'oof'. He can see his mom trying to stop him from doing anything further but her body is too scared to do so. Slowly his dad stopped her from bringing Stanley back inside and Stan could see the emotions swirling around on ma's face and joy wasn't on it.

"All you ever do is lie, cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails. But if you come back with millions I'll consider letting you continue live here. Until then, you are not welcome here. I've had enough taking care of something to grow up useless and invaluable." He didn't spare a single thought and immediately slammed the door at his face.

.

Stan just.. couldn't believe it. That's it? He knew that being unintelligent and picking up fights isn't going to bring him anywhere but he didn't think he end kicked out by his own father. He held the duffle bag in his arms staring at it like it had owed him something. 

Maybe he could ask Sixer to get him back- oh right. He's now in college on the other side of the country, how could he forget? He drove him to the airport just now, just a moment ago.

With all the pain in his chest he bursted with the aftermath of it all and screamed at the door with his feets monitored backwards to driver's seat of his car. "FINE! I DON'T NEED ANYONE! I'LL MAKE MILLIONS!! I'LL BE JUST AS VALUABLE AS STANFORD! YOU'LL ALL SEE!"

Even he can't trust his own words.

Where can he go now? He doubts pa packed any money in that bag to survive for a day. Does he mean by what he had said earlier? As valueble as Stanford? Hah! What a funny joke. Everyone had high expectations for Ford and everyone believed in him. And what does Stanley have? Just a stupid childhood dream.

The world had put a lot of faith to let Stanley know that no matter what he did he will never be loved or needed. 

Chapter Text

Stan stirred on a soft regular bed and nuzzled against the cold pillow and tugged gently on the blanket. 

He knew when he knew he's asleep he would wait until Ford had woken up for him or the alarm clock. So he waited patiently for one of them to do their job.

...

He doesn't sleep on a bed. Ford had left for college years ago. That's when the adrenaline finally kicks in and he jumps out of the comfy bed. 

He recalls the last thing he saw before he's here. Rico had found him and he still hasn't paid in time yet. Shit... But there was something else Rico had said before he had fallen asleep.

"Someone is paying twice the money you owe just to have you alive in good condition so what I'm doing to you would be the most merciful thing I have done to someone who hasn't paid in time. You better appreciate it, Andrew" 

Everything else was just pitch darkness.

He sighed in relief that Rico still hasn't figured out his real identity yet and hopefully stays like that. But now he needs to figure out where he is and how to get out.

Looking around he sees... A normal apartment for one person. Not normal but maybe slightly futuristic with the choice of furniture and the warm yet eerie color of white and pale green..

He is in supposedly a bedroom since there is a bed, next to it was a drawer with two levels, and a table with a mirror. There were two doors Infront of him, the right had a toilet sign which he'll explore later. And a row of books that had been shoved into the wall with the same pastel green and same logo which said 'Lumon'.

Sounds awfully familiar..

He opens the left door as if something is about to appear to kill him. 10 years on the run so he had a few reasons why he reacted so careful. He sees a normal-futuristic living room.

Whoever made this room was most likely an interior designer who had a lot of fun. There's a weird huge rectangle machine stuck to the wall and it's definitely not a tv, some file is somewhere below it on a hanging shelf. He'll find out what it is later.

There is a huge greyish white door, a table with a weirder version of chess, a navy blue couch and one singular couch.

A sink along with utensils and glassware. A small desk connected to the wall with a plastic green chair, and a tiny space in the wall to put some decorations.

His chest feels itchy for not showering daily and his hands went to scratch it. He froze realizing this isn't the maroon jacket he found in the dumpster nor the black pants he had been wearing since forever! His raggedy shoes that needed stitches but still worked well. And his mullet he stopped caring for and left it to grow... Is still there, just in a tight bun and topped off with a headband.

It was a set of light mint green pj's. Cool, he matches with the room. Nobody had... Did they? He doesn't want to repeat the Tijuana incident. His back doesn't feel sore so he'll consider it a win for now.

He'll be honest. He's glad he was finally away from the life he made. He hated the life he made, despised it so much his teeth vibrates from the mere thought and sometimes his eyebrows stay in place thinking about it too long.

Living in motels that had roaches in it, sleeping in his car that smelled like ashes, barely having money for the things he needed, never feeling safe or deserved any rest he earned, running away from the mafia after running out of time to pay him back.

The last one had happened.. recently? He hasn't found a clock yet so he's unaware what time it is. He heads towards the door but before he could touch it, there was no door knob. 

...

There was a monitor near the door so he assumed it was a control panel and tried pressing the buttons. None of them worked, of course it didn't. Who gives a prisoner an escape so easily?

He then hears footsteps coming closer through the door and his instincts forced his body to hide and run, another voice tells him to grab the chair and-

Before he could do any options the door had already opened revealing a short, blonde woman with a face that seems cursed to look angry forever. She wears a white lab coat and holding a clipboard.

"... If you want explanations, follow me." She said bluntly and left leaving a new set of options for Stanley. She could be dangerous. He could die in this room with no trace of his disappearance, but who's gonna look for him anyway? It's best to die with answers or try to escape while he still can. He goes through the door and it closes itself.

He finds himself in an endless white hall that quickly blinds him. The nurse apparently doesn't care and walks away, rubbing his eyes he quickly followed her while glancing each corner of the hall suspiciously.

Each passageway does not show a glimpse of an exit door. Infinite doors greets his appearance and each one had a name as if they're living individuals. In order to leave he needs to be certain he wouldn't get lost in the blinding maze. 

They arrive inside a room. It's theme was exactly like the white halls with more devices that he couldn't understand it's purpose. There was two posters you use to test your eyesight strength, one about alphabets the other about goats in different positions. Looking at it he does need glasses. There was minty green leathered seat and the nurse told him to sit there.

He sat down getting his knuckles ready since his brass knuckles had been taken. Now he wonders what else had they taken as well, the Stanley Mobile... did they keep her or had destroyed her? Sold her and took the money? Blasphemy. He'll avenge his car, the Stanley Mobile had been there for him since day one!

He'll get out of.. whatever this place was. He just needs as much as information as possible and precise timing. The nurse had been writing on the clipboard on a trolley that has the same purpose of a table, also as a drawer. The exact same thing people used in car repair stations. Stan only managed to get a glance at the instruments inside but  couldn't make it out due to his poor vision.

The nurse took a seat on a white stool still holding the clipboard and also still writing. She would take a glance at him from time to time and writes even faster. "What are you writing?" Stan asked suspiciously crossing his arms, he feels offended before he could even know what's happening.

"My task is to jot down your health progress, information, and ensure you maintain a healthy lifestyle." She responded coldly, Stan could only pay attention to the word 'information'.

"What infrormation?" His tone more sharper at the word, he'll try to hide his life as much as he can from now on.

"Your life, we can start off with a name. Who are you?" Stan knew a name would be a starting point on how to access his life story. Technology is something powerful and anything you search will be given a straight answer. Not happening. "Andrew Alcatraz." 

The silence between them makes Stan realize she did not believe him. "What? Aren't you going to write that down?" She places the clipboard on her lap and looks at him with pity.

"Right now you are under Lumon's care, which means you are safe here. You can be honest with us."

"Why don't you believe me? And who's 'us'?" Fuck, do they know his real name? Rico probably did found out. 

"... We believed it at first but when we searched it up and there was no medical history or the name of the school he went to. Without those two it's most likely they do not exist. Andrew also has no biological family which is impossible." So all the other fake names are a dead end, should've added it when he thought about it.

"Are you willing to cooperate? We can always post pone until you are willing to tell us or we can do a dna test. However you will be doing a writing test in the meanwhile. Tomorrow a health check up." 

Stan does not like the idea of a dna test, who knows. They might find his family and kidnap them as well. And a writing test? What is he? A middle schooler? Not anymore. So he either fess up or they take his blood. Stalling seems to be the safest option.

"I can't keep calling you 'the nurse' so do you have a name?"

She pulls a drawer and grabs a sheet of paper handing it over to him. He takes it and it's the writing test. "You can only call me Ms. Cecily or just Ms. Anything else is just nurse. I won't accept any other labels you give."

Cecily ehh? Not bad. "Alright then, Ms. Cecily. How do I do the test without a pen or pencil?" 

"Do you recall a drawer next to the bed you woke up in? You'll find it there."

Ahh yes, the drawer. He was about to check it soon, but now he needs to ask questions to get some answers and to make them or Ms. Cecily to think he's clueless and weak. He'll escape soon.

"Okay, it's my turn to ask questions here and I'm sure this Lumon guy would give me a right to do so."

The nur- Ms. Cecily just looks at him dumbfounded and relieved? "I was wondering why you haven't panicked the first time we met also Lumon is a company name, go on."

She's really calm about this. Surely Rico had told her that he managed to escape an entire gang thrice and still standing with a gunshot wound. But she's just.. bored. "Where am I? And what do you want from me?"

"You are inside the company of Lumon and we plan to make the world a better place, to do that we're going to need your help."

"And how are you going to do that. Did you have to have to kidnap me? What makes you think I'm the perfect guy to do- whatever it is?"

"The guy who brought you here told your history with him. To help us we needed someone with the strongest mental strength and we were blessed finding you. We heard all the agony you had to go through but if you just trust us, we will use all our might to make it vanish."

Blessed? Only ma and Ford were blessed having me. But an entire company feeling blessed? That's a whole new record. The way she was saying was off putting, trust is something he rarely could give if you had saw his life. "You didn't answer two of my questions.."

She just looked at him like she just swallowled a toad. "Once you are in the best condition we will schedule an appointment for a brain procedure."

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.

.

"A BRAIN PROCEDURE?! FUCK, NO! You really think humanity would be better by DRILLING INTO MY SKULL?? Please tell me you said that to put me in cold feet..." Stan screeched at her until his lungs begged for mercy and his heart drumming inside his ears. Damn the precise timing, these people here are insane!

"... No, I'm not. Don't worry we've had several willing patients do this and all of them has make it out alive and well. We won't be rushing yours that's for sure, I wouldn't need to do a health check up if I knew you were going to die."

Ms. Cecily's answer did not help at all. He needs to leave NOW. Stan knew when someone is lying, and she is not playing just dead serious. It made it ten times worse hearing people willingly having a surgery, they probably got them brainwashed and turned them into a livestock.

"However, we need to wait for a few months to prepare and so do you. You may go back to your room, hopefully you remembered the route. Once your in make sure to do the writing test, it's important." She gestured to leave and Stan wasted no time to get out of that room. "I'll gladly do it, miss..."

Once again he is back inside the beaming halls and rushed towards the ends until he finds a wall without a door. A brain procedure? He almost threw up at the image of his brain, he can't just puke it'll make a trail and they would find him easily.

There it is, an elevator an exit. He reaches for the buttons and- there was no buttons but a thin hole to insert a card instead. "Fucking-" Stan prays religiously this time hoping someone would hear his cries and help him. He punches the metal door multiple times, kicking, even trying to separate the two doors.

That's when he hears footsteps approaching quickly. Faster. His mind claws at him for not making any progress to bring him to safety and he feels a hand on his shoulder, his body automatically slap the hand. There were 3 people, they are going to kill him.

They all tried to catch him at once but the first guy had been zeroed because he accidentally punched him square in the jaw. Just two left, one had their arms locked around his shoulders and the other appears to be hiding something behind him, he waits until Stan stops kicking his legs at him to make a move.

The guy holding him spoke, "We don't have to do this the hard way if you stop." Stan hated that tone, it had the sound of uncertainty bleeding through his voice. He lets out a cry and grabs his waist behind him and sends him into a head slam knocking him unconscious. Why you acting so cray-cray, Stanley...

He glares at the third guy who is currently shivering in his boots, his eyes said something about desperation and hopelessness. "What you waiting for, kid?"

He flinched and left the scene with a single mutter "i don't get paid enough for this.." , in the distance he heard a walkie talkie beeping and the guy had asked for backup.

He was going to run for it but then something sharp had stabbed him through the neck and it all went black.

Chapter Text

Stanley wakes up on the most comfiest bed he slept in a decade and he chooses to not to savor the feeling. He sat on the mattress with a sting on his neck, someone had dozed him to sleep and placed a bandage over the injury. He knows when someone doesn't get what they want, drastic measures will be applied so he isn't really surprised but maybe slightly offended.

His knuckles had been wrapped up too with some dots of red bleeding through the bandage. He tries to stretch it and stopped when it hurts. Some bones must be dislocated if he has a hard time moving his fingers, the thick bandages doesn't count. Punching is now restricted until he properly heals.

He tries to remember what had happened yesterday(?) that made him so... Distrustful and panicked. Writing test, no. Kidnapped, happened before so, no. White halls making his eyes hurt, nah. Brain procedure, bingo.

Ms. Patricia had mentioned he will be receiving brain procedure and he probably has a few months before they do it but what is stopping them from doing it now? Is it because of his trust issues? Maybe, so why don't they find someone more trusting?

Mental strength. Of course no one has a strong mental strength to get kidnapped and randomly get a lobotomy so perhaps they're just desperate and lured in the strongest guy they know.

The thought makes him happy for a bit and realized it's a bad thing. He's trapped with several hidden professional guards in the corner of his eyes and they probably set up a camera in his room no doubt. If he wants to change clothes then he'll be doing it in the bathroom.

If this is his room they're going to give him basic privileges right? Shower, eating, sleeping. Stan doesn't know what they're plan is but he doesn't trust it already, no one would. The only method he knew they would try on him is to make him feel safe to gain his trust, he can fake it he's mastered a while back so doing it the entire time he's here will be easy.

Stanley noticed the drawer besides the bed, on top was the writing test he had said he would do. It only asked for four things from him. A name, a list of things he's scared of, a list of things he does not enjoy doing, and to write what would make his experience at Lumon better. That's weird, he had expected a bunch of questions from exams but this isn't any of them.

His time here had proved these questions was the most normal thing in here so he couldn't care less about the weird writing test. Literally anything here will come out randomly and unpredictable and he isn't going to let a piece of paper make him uncomfortable.

He opens the drawer and finds stacks of blank white paper, and a set of stationary. He took a pencil and began to scribble his actual name, just the first name. His last name isn't their business.

It said to write at least 5 things from the first question, 15 for the second, and just a paragraph for the last. Like he said, the most normal thing that has happened to him in the past 24 hours. This might be a truth test to see if he's being honest, he'll let them have their way in the meantime he catches up what's happening. If he's lucky they won't try them on him.

1. List 5 or more of things you are afraid of. 

1) Heights 

2) Being chased

3) Loud noises

4) Tight spaces

5) Hospitals

2. List as much as possible of things you do not enjoy doing.

This is going to be a tough one, Stan thought. He's got a bunch in mind but there isn't much space for all of it.

1) Being told what to do 

2) Going to the dentist 

3) using the phone booth

4) writing thank you cards

5) hearing egotistical people talking 

6) being in public areas 

7) school

8) being sick

9)  traffic jam

10)This stupid test

(there's supposed to be more to make it until 25 but I legit have no idea)

3. Write what would make your experience at Lumon better.

'Don't kidnap random people and give them brain surgery.'

Stan skimmed through the paper to make sure he didn't make it too pathetic for his nature. Once Ms. Patricia comes back he'll just turn it in to her, he still wonders what were these for though. Why would the things he's afraid of and things he didn't like to do was relevant to 'making the world a better place'.

Would it make more sense if he took the brain procedure? He hasn't found a single ray of sunshine yet or heard any sounds of traffic which means he is held captive underground. And he doubts anyone would try to find him and get him out. Plus, they're going to give him a roof over his head, clothes, and food to spare.

There isn't anything pretty about his life of being wanted and always on the run. This could be a temporary rest from his deceit and terrible decisions, still no matter how he looks at this place he just can't be relaxed. It's not just the kidnapping or the brain procedure thing, there's more hidden underneath. And he doesn't want to know.

Stanley placed the paper back where he had found it and went to the supposed living room. While he's alone in the meantime, he could try finding the purpose huge rectangle machine or understand that weird chess game.

There was a box underneath the rectangle and had a few thin disks. So it was a floating jukebox, who would've thought. Looking through the selections he felt irritated that there were only songs he didn't recognize. He closed his eyes and let fate choose for him.

'I'll be seeing you' by Billie Holiday. Looks interesting, don't knock it till you try it. He inserted the disk and pressed the start button, when some music started playing he just waits until he hears the slow tune.

'I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places.'

The voice and piano playing in the background makes him think about those black and white shows he used to watch during his childhood. He could imagine a young couple dancing slowly under this song, it's definitely a romantic song.

'That this heart of mine embraces, All day through'

His stomach rumbles, when was the last time he had eaten something fulfilling? He went to the sink and cupboards only to find several different colored things shaped as a water drop. There are so obsessed with that shape. Each color is labeled with different flavors. He takes one and looks at the back of the package. Luckily an instruction written on it.

'In that small cafe, The park across the way, The children's carousel, The chestnut trees, The wishing well'

'Dip it in boiling water and let it sit for two minutes.' Sounds easy enough. On the sink there sat a see through boiler which makes Stan wonder how expensive all of this was. He clicks on the button and hears the water bubble and sizzle. After the water is done he carefully drops the flavored food and watches it slowly expand.

'I'll be seeing you, In every lovely summer's day'

Two minutes passed and he grabs a strainer. The water separates from the supposed food and he puts it on a plate and placed it on the tiny table. It smells... Exactly like the flavor he picked, now he needs a beverage.

'In everything that's light and gay, I'll always think of you that way'

A different cupboard reveals a container filled with dried up flowers, a tea kettle, and see through mugs. He could use the leftover warm water to make some tea. 

'I'll find you in the morning sun, And when the night is new'

Weird looking food and a warm cup of tea, sounds lovely. Since no one has come to knock at his door he can use the extra time to read one of those books on the shelf. Once again he picked a book randomly and reads it without any thought.

'I'll be looking at the moon'

Alien food seems to be good to eat and surprisingly not that bad, the scent from the tea filled his nostrils with ease and calms his mind. The content inside the book hasn't bore him yet. He bets he looks like a nerd and chuckles at the thought.

'But I'll be seeing you'

The music ends and so does his food and tea. He only managed to read two pages yet he isn't that hungry anymore, magic weird food. Stan stood up to return the book back on the shelf and went to the table to do the dishes. This is calming maybe he'll stay here, just for a little while.

There's something bugging him stopping himself from feeling peaceful, every week he would do something but what is it? He knew it was important so he couldn't have just forgotten about it so easily. 

.

.

.

Oh right, he was supposed to call Ford to see how's he doing. But of course there isn't a telephone here, if there was he probably would escape with the cops investigating this place.

He could only imagine how his life is. Better than him that was for sure. Would he be ecstatic about this fancy prison? That nerd would probably get kicked out from here for asking too much questions. 

Ford probably won't even remember him or even think where he is. Stan isn't worth the trouble and shouldn't make him pick up the pieces. It has always been like that, he made sure.

He could only pray he is anywhere but here and hope he is happy.

Chapter Text

The Lumon staff had given Stanley food, clothes, and a roof over his head so why not agree to a definitely not suspicious brain surgery?

After the surgery went successfully, he felt a pounding ache on the back of his head but didn't mention anything. The nurse brought him back to his room and told him to wear the clothes in a different closet.

He looks at the was a red tshirt, black apron, a hat, and a pair of black pants. "Oh no."

.

.

.

████ woke up in a room, he was wearing a red tshirt, black apron and a hat. The back of his head stings real bad.

Infront was a machine with numbers for buttons. On his left was huge window and a car had recently pulled up. He went to open the window to ask the man in the car the situation.

The man had rolled his car window to speak with him too. "Hello. Your going to ask questions am I right?" He had tan skin, blue eyes, black slowly turning gray hair, and wearing a t-shirt with some patterns.

He's surprised this man quickly read his mind, for some reason he isn't quite shocked and surprisingly really calm. "Y-yeah, could you explain this, please?" He pointed at his clothes and the room.

"I'll tell you, but first. A name would be nice, I'm Mr. Adams(Mauer), how about you?"

"Oh sure it's- it's... What the hell." Okay, not so calm now. 

"That's okay, your job is to listen to people's order and write them into those sticky notes over there, make sure you get them and to treat the customers with kindness no matter how mean they are.

Then you look at the menu to see how much it costs, if it's too much just use that machine there. Got it?"

"Yes but aren't you gonna tell me my name? Or what's going on?" █████ starting to freak out, he can't just leave a man with no information about his life! Maybe he can

"One cheeseburger and a medium sized coke, please." Mr. Adams spoke, his tone shifting as if he never taken this conversation before. "What?"

"A cheeseburger and a medium coke."

"I don't-..." He stares at the sticky notes and pen and looks back at the man, he nodded. █████ started writing his order and calculated the price combined. "12. 90"

"Now put it in the box, the blue one. If you get it wrong throw it in the trash can." Mr. Adams spoke again and █████ wonders if he's messing with his mind or not. He does as told and waits for the next instruction.

"See, really easy. Make sure to greet each customer with a smile too. Oh and don't ask the customer to repeat more than three times, they'll get mad."

"Wait! When can I leave?" ████ asked in a hurry before Mr. Adams could drive off. The guy just smiled at him. "When the door behind you opens, thats when you can leave." And drove his car until he is out of sight.

Another car pulled in, the car window didn't open. Were they waiting for a greeting? "Hello, welcome to... Uh.." he looks at his apron, it had a logo on his left breast side. "Lumon's restaurant. How can I help you?"

A feminine voice spoke but it sounded like it was recorded or from a device. "Two chicken patties, no pickles on one of them." ████ immediately began writing on the sticky notes and pressed the buttons for the total. "19 dollars." Before he could ask if they had wanted more they had already left.

A different car came and he repeated his greeting. This time the voice was rather gruff and annoyed. "I want set A but extra mustard on the burgers." He went to write them down, told them the price and they left again.

A new car again, he greeted and the voice is a tired man but it sounds rather familiar, it couldn't be Mr. Adams his voice was more different. "Two cheeseburgers, one without mustard, and chicken nuggets."

His voice is just some average guy but he feels so comforted by it, does he know him? He has a sudden urge to apologize to this voice but instead wrote the order instead.

He brought the sticky note along with him to make sure he gets to see him leave without disappearing. "13. 90" And he left without a trace, only a memory as evidence of the guy's existence.

Now another came in, he couldn't even start his greeting before the order was thrown at him like a brick. "55 BURGERS 55 FRIES 55 TACOS 55 PIES 55 COKES 100 TATER TOTS 100 PIZZAS 100 CHICKEN TENDERS 100 COFFEES 55 CHICKEN WINGS 55 SHAKES 55 PANCAKES 55 PASTA 55 PEPPERS AND 155 TATERS"

This was going to be a long day.

.

.

.

Stanley took a deep breath in and finds himself in the white halls with the nurse waiting for him. A warm comfort lingers in his chest and he knows he won't get an answer why.

The nurse opened her mouth to talk. "Do you remember anything?"

"Absolutely nothing. How long was I in there?" His left hand is aching, Stan tries to shake the pain in his wrist. Did they make him write something? But Stanley's right-handed, nothing in here makes sense anyway.

"An hour. Come on, you will be doing more tomorrow."

Stanley went back to his room, changing into his pj's and went back to close the bed's door, the rest is just some unanswered questions and sweet dreams.

Chapter Text

It has been.. three months or so since Stanley was kidnapped. He stopped caring to make an escape after his hands hurt and the amount of times he got manhandled and the ungodly amount of bandages on his knuckles.

They tried to give Stan glasses because they noticed him squinting and responded poorly to the eye test, he refused to wear them and had to use eye lenses instead. Things has never been more crystal clear.

On the bright side there are a few things that makes the rest of his life here not bad:

1.Food 

It took a while for him to accept they're food and finding out they weren't drugged or poisoned he began eating more than he had said he would.

The food is special. He gets too eat healthy and fulfilling food despite how small they seem. Remember those toys that grew when you dunked them in water? All he had to do was dip them and put some edible flowers on top. Cooking privileges aren't revoked but he didn't need to cook much with the food he's given. One time he just fried a singular tomato slice, it looked too puffy to be a real one but didn't complain.(I have no idea what that was too)

To soothe his sore and dry throat they had provided several drinks.

Water being the first option. He isn't surprised since the Lumon logo has a water drop as an 'o'. Tea grinded manually and fresh leaves picked from hand at least that's what they said, usually he would add the flowers to make the room and drink smell more interesting. And lastly juice off all kinds of sweet tropical fruits and the only drink that has the most sugar because they didn't want him to drink or eat unhealthy, it's good they actually wanted him here.

Luckily for him the food actually had flavors and not as boring as it looks. If picky eaters had this maybe they would stop being picky eaters, they somehow even managed to get spinach to taste good. But after a while they start to get boring and wishes that Lumon would agree to give him actual food.

2. Daily exercise 

They had provided a yoga mat and video manual on how to do proper exercise. Of course, Stan had ignored or rejected to doing exercise for several weeks but eventually he was bored and his body felt very sluggish and heavy after years of lack of exercise or movement.

Fortunately, his body had gained some plush muscles and his running had been more easier along with his breathing. His stomach is still slightly chubby but it'll disappear in a month or two.

He feels a lot more flexible just like his teenage self. He grew to enjoy doing exercise and attempted to carry objects which slowly made him carry heavy objects like the drawer but before he could even do it the nurse rushed in to tell there was already gym equipments stored in his room.

3. Dental hygiene 

They gave him a ton of things to make sure his hygiene is well kept and improvised and at some point he felt like they were treating him like some kind of king or goddess but he isn't naive enough to fall for it. And Stan was sure he isn't going to use most of it too.

But alas, he knew he needed a shower and his hands won't stop twitching to scratch his several layers of sweat on his body. Heck, even the nurse had to stay at least a feet away from him to avoid passing out. And Stanley knew embarrassment.

His hair had never been more lighter with little to no knots. Ms. Patricia told him he could get a haircut and he took advantage of that finally relieved he only need a few strokes to get the perfect hair day. It was about time he got rid of his mullet. Though he still needs to wear that headband which makes his temples itchy. 

4. Sleep

There isn't much he could say about it because he just sleeps. But there's a door near the bed so no one could invade your privacy and makes you sleep faster due to the dark box. The first few days he chose not to use it because he still remembers how it felt being.. trapped in a small room.

And sadly there was a small light in there that would illuminate in the morning so oversleeping was impossible unless you're able to ignore it.

It was comfy he knows that the day he woke up here. After a week he realized not only was the door to keep privacy but also make it impossible to fall off. It felt like a space escape pod. And also really helpful when your afraid of heights.

5. Clothes

He checked the closet only to find three of the same set of green mint pj's. They were clean nonetheless and fits like a glove so he finds it pointless to complain about the lack of clothes. 

Shoes however were also the same white with a singular dark green stripe. And not surprisingly always clean since every inch of here was spotless and showed no signs of the outside world.

The best part is that he doesn't even need to wash them. The clothes had been already covered in sweat which made his face sour when he sniffed at it, Stan tried to find a washing machine and failed.

He finds a weird hole in the wall instead, over the hole it had an instruction. 'Throw in your dirty clothes in here.' From the distant he could hear the whispers of the hole, he threw them in and they get sucked in as if they had vanished. The next day, he has three set of clothes again.

6. Hobbies 

Stan wouldn't consider reading as his hobby but due to lack of options he ends up reading the entire shelf. One time he had to walk around in circles because the plot twists are twisting and at night he would keep thinking about the next upcoming issue.

Once he has completed reading all the books they would immediately disappear and replaced with new ones, including the second book. Stan couldn't be any happier, he read the pages giggling on his bed while swaying his feet like a high school girl reading her crush's diary.

He wonders what would Ford think of this new Stanley. Stan wasn't considered the reading type, if you ever saw him reading it's probably just a textbook because of an upcoming exam.

Reading isn't his only hobby luckily. The first hobby before he tried reading was drawing, what else would those papers be for? 

Stan had quit drawing way before getting kicked out after seeing how much Ford had improved with his drawing skills thanks to his photographic memory. He still remembered back when no one could understand Ford's drawings and had to tell them the meaning of his art himself.

When Ford had stolen surpassed his talent he began to try other hobbies but nothing speaks to him than a simple drawing made by his own fingers. 

He wonders if he still got it.

Stan lifts up a pencil and... He doesn't know what to draw. You don't usually get free time when everybody wants you dead. And if you did, you'd just sleep or eat and drink.

To make it worse there hasn't been anything pretty enough to make it's way onto the blank white paper, maybe there was but not paid enough attention to draw it detailed. He mostly studied human anatomy to make his drawings more realistic and detailed.

Enough of that, there's a paper laid Infront of him waiting to gain a personality and to be free from a white space. Yearning to be something worthwhile to be seen and mesmerized, and it chose Stanley, a man that would always be seen as a passerby with no reputation to uphold.

The paper should have something meaningful drawn onto, even if it's only to him. Someone Something thing that has been by his side his entire life. He drew a short rectangle over a longer and thinner rectangle, some circles, erasing the sketch, add a few lines and curves... And voila, the Stanley Mobile! ... There has to be something more than that.

While thinking of a new project, his train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Must be the nurse, Stan left his drawing and went to front door. He inspected the monitor camera before unlocking the door, never too late to be careful.

The nurse, wearing the exact same clothing and expression just asked a question he was afraid to be asked, it was happening soon he was aware. "Are you ready for the procedure?"

He felt like a lab rat being tested on, it's merciful enough no one will know about his tragic fate, especially his family.

Ma would be worried why he hasn't called for a long time but probably won't do much about it, Pa wouldn't be surprised if anything happened to him, Shermie is now married and more focused on adulthood, Ford.. Stan doesn't know how his life would be without him but one thing he knows is that he's having a better life than him, better off without him.

Stanley doesn't give up until he tries, he had tried everything to avoid this question and going further onto it but he failed, everyone was expecting it already and they knew he would. He had failed at life, as a son, as a brother. But here, he is wanted(not in the bad way)and taken care of. 

He could make someone proud and he could be a new person with a fresh start, someone worth knowing and no longer lurking in the shadows of his burdens, no more. This time, he would enjoy living this life.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Stanley and Ms. Cecily entered a cold and dark room. There were three people wearing black face masks and bandanas waiting for him, all three were wearing black instead of white like he imagined.

A leathered chair illuminated under lights and screens. Two women were there, one with a headlight and the other without it. A man stood more further from the devices and from them. Trays, tiny bottles, medical instruments, and computer screens scattered across the room.

The nurse spoke stopping his scanning. "Sit in that chair, Mr. Milchick will guide you through this." She pointed towards the chair and the man and left. The man or Mr. Milkshake Milchick smiled under his mask, the expression and the eyes is comforting but creepy. This guy must've been through a lot and something tells Stan he shouldn't make this guy mad.

With no way out he sat on the chair and the woman above the chair wrapped something around his temples, causing the insides of his brain on the screens in vibrant colors and the skull as well. He moved his mouth and his skeleton copied him.

"Stanley Pines, is it?" Mr. Milchick asked with a calm yet menacing tone leaked through his voice. Not only have they hold him captive but knows his identity too, they always knew how to make his day worse somehow.

"... Yes." Admitting defeat makes him want to throw up but he's going to save it for later, for his brain procedure maybe since it's more agreeable to throw up when your brain is getting drilled.

The light over his head blinded him just as much as the halls and from a distant he could hear clinking of metal behind him. A hand cradles his head and the other gently slices the back of his head's scalp. He could only whimper at the pain and his eyes twitched rapidly. There was a beeping noise in the background similar as a ticking clock or the pumping of his heart, very loud and annoying.

Stan wanted nothing more than to sleep through the entire session, he shuts his eyelids and tried to imagine calming things to return to slumber but Mr. Milchick stopped him. "You need to be awake while they do this, Stanley. For safety reasons of course."

God, he absolutely despised it when someone was using his name. It sounded like a mockery of his existence, he knows his life is shitty but he doesn't need to be reminded of it. If he wasn't stuck in this state he would probably strangle him, the thought makes his head hurt even more.

"Keep calm and stay awake. Your doing great." The creepy guy said as he brought a camera to his face and captured the view. (Is that even allowed?) Stan heard the sound of metal hitting the tray once again. The sound of drilling and buzzing is what makes his eyes stay open and frozen.

"Little vibration now." Stan didn't need someone to tell him that, it would make him more panicked and he's right. His grip on leather is his only way of relaxing as the buzzing noise touches his skull and goes deeper.

The buzzing eventually stopped and the drill is placed back on the tray(thank God). Right now he hears a tiny plastic container opening and some glass clinking. Stan shudders at sensation of something thin and cold touches the center of his head. "Eughh.."

"I could hold onto your hand if it helps." "No- no, thanks."

A bottle and it's content rang in his ear, an injection slowly making his vision blurry and this time he is allowed to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

When starting a new day, you start it by opening your eyes and you breathe.

It's funny because it felt like he never breathed once. Like when your slowly realizing that a heart attack is slowly coming and when your fresh out of the womb. Impossible, but similar to the feeling.

He can feel the humidity and air conditioning swirling around in his hair and see the pavement. Roads filled with cars, bikes, stores, and grass. The only thing stopping him from getting closer to the environment was glass. He was in glass.

He tries to recall anything that could lead him here and finds... Nothing. Not even a flashback or any memory, just blank. This is the right moment to panic but his body just stays still like a corpse, not really, his eyes and fingers were twitching but it's close.

The more he tries to search any information from his mind the more his head stings, his reflexes brings a hand to scratch the pain. He touches it gently like braille and felt a scar. It had been sewn together shut in stitches and the burn was still fresh under his digits which means the injury was recent. The scar is no doubt plays an important role in his situation yet he can't make out a thing. So far the scar is just a singular puzzle piece from a full jigsaw(how does he know what's a jigsaw if he never played or saw it?). 

A door behind him gives him hope, and false hope when it was too stubborn to open for him. And a man wearing a black suit and tie holding a briefcase as company, what was that feeling when something unexpected happens? Ah yes, shock. 

He finds himself also wearing a suit and tie, but navy blue. 

"Good morning, sir. I've never seen you before.. are you new here? What's your name?" Said the man with grey hair and blue eyes, the tone of his fake charisma makes him quite.. difficult for him to trust. 

No matter the person, he can't just leave someone hanging until he finds a good reason. His mouth opens to respond to his question. He closed his mouth with no answer. Who is he? "I'm sorry.. I don't know."

"It's okay, going up?" The man waves off his question and replaced it with a new one, without waiting for his reply he went to press a button. They were in an elevator and they were rising.

He goes towards the glass to gaze the streets and soon he could see more streets, then a park, tall buildings, the blue sky with fluffy clouds, and lastly the shining sun.

The sunlight lapped all over his face and body and into the glass chamber, it's shine blinding his eyes and tracing over his brown curls painting it golden. Despite all this he couldn't feel it's warmth, perhaps it was the air conditioner inside the elevator.

Then he comes to a realization that there were barely any sounds or the chatter of people like he had imagined. It was surprisingly empty with just the two of them as the only livings. What were they, Adam and Eve? He knows he didn't build these buildings and it's certainly impossible for one man (the one besides him) to construct them like blocks like a 3 year old.

And the rising went to a halt giving him another chance to take in the sight of the world expecting to see more buildings, but that was it. The earth is a sphere, it doesn't have an end.

What is going on?

He takes a deeper look into the sky and found lines, and they lead to a ceiling. The fuck. They weren't outside, they were just in a huge box filled with scams! And the sun? It was just huge glowing light orb attached to a wire on the wall and powered by a cheap outlet.

What the fuck is going on?!

"Where the hell am I?" He turned his head to stare at the man, who appears calm and mocking. The air conditioner buzzing as the only noise in the room. Faint chirping from birds although they sound robotic and scripted.

The air conditioner is as cold as the man's blue eyes along with the masked grin. He stood besides his left to gaze at the horizon with him filled with amusement. "Outside, obviously."

"No we're not."

They made eye contact and he swore a small error in the man's facade by the twitch of his eyebrows and the clenched jaw before switched back to the insufferable grin. "I think we're done here."

He walks back towards the metal door and clicks on a button, he watched as the two of them becomes closer to the ground. "What's going on? Hey- don't ignore me!" 

They reached ground level and the man miraculously opens the door and gestured for him to leave first. "Go on."

He looks out the door. He finds a white hallway. Seeing the man not holding a weapon he hesitantly stepped closer towards the door. The man spoke again, "I'll see you soon."

He could only fake chuckle at him. "I hope not."

He stepped out of the glass chamber without knowing he would never see the rest of the white hallway.

.

.

.

Stan took a deep breath as if he was underwater. 

He sees Ms. Cecily waiting next to the hand scanner. That was weird. Just a few moments ago he was walking in the Siena room and suddenly he's back outside as if he had never entered or like he was forbidden to do so.

"W- how? I swear I was just going in-"

How could he have failed something so easy like that? All he had to do was to take a few steps into the room. Pa was right to throw him out then, maybe should've done it earlier-

"You did. It's meant to feel that way so you don't get impatient waiting a few hours. Now come on, you need to change back into your uniform before your inspection with Dr. Mauer."

She started walking away and Stan followed her with questions popping up each second. 

"So what, if I was my- what was it? Innie? For ten years it will feel like a second?"

"Exactly. That's mostly the whole purpose of Severance™"

"Cool, but creepy."

Stan wondered if time had passed faster than he thought it would and they were lying to him. That wouldn't explain why he still was in his prime.

"I wonder who would be desperate enough to get a brain surgery to avoid boredom? Sure waiting is hell in a way but seriously? And look where that lead me." He lifted his hands gesturing the entire place before placing them behind his head.

Ms. Cecily didn't answer the question, he was just asking himself and the universe but he wouldn't answer it too. 

Shermie wouldn't do it, she(yeah he's a she now, cuz i can) has a life to live and she probably won't trust it too just like Stan. She always knew a scam when she saw one and gave stan and Ford signs on something that was too good to be true. They were mostly advice from Ma.

Which just leaves off Ford. The guy's always admired sci-fi movies growing up and the situation he's in is definitely something you would find in the sci-fi category. 

Ford can be naive at times but never a fool. Which is the main reason he needed to be near Stanley to not accidentally step on a bear trap. Once upon a time, he solved an equation on the white board and tripped on wet floor that had a wet sign on the same day. Stan laughed until he couldn't breathe before coming to help him.

Now, he's stuck underground with non-consenting brain surgery, kidnapped by weird people with a hidden ill intention. No longer capable of doing the job he was made for. But their adults now, Ford didn't need Stanley anymore, he knew that. He wonders if Ford knows too.

At least he doesn't need to deal with Rico and his unlimited bills to pay. Speaking of Rico, did he actually get the money he was yapping about? Stan has seen shady businesses before but Lumon is a whole new level. Whatever the amount they said they were paying him is either the truth or just a lie. If he's lucky he could be dead by now, rotting in some dark alleyway.

They haven't asked for a single penny from him and had offered food and a bed to sleep in. And all they ask is for him to play dress up and enter rooms without knowing what was inside. Very suspicious indeed.

Back before he was kidnapped, Stan had been traveling almost to every state in the USA. Almost. During his time in Indiana, there was a building that was possibly named Lumon, he wasn't wearing glasses sue him.

It did sound familiar. He has heard of it before.

He was in a bar, he wanted to talk to someone even for a little while. Talking to someone who wouldn't feed him empty promises and lies just to use him again, that would be easy when everyone is drunk.

But that doesn't mean he had to spill his pathetic life, and that meant he was forced to buy something light. It was cheaper anyway, he's got a lot of things going on which is why being sober is the safer option.

"You know you can't sit here without buying anything, right?" The bartender spoke to him while brewing a cocktail. A neutral expression on his face before looking away with a smug and a tiny scoff.

"Just fetch me somethin' light and cheap." Stan didn't bother doing anything to his hygiene to ward off people away, works like magic. It'd be nice to have some fun with a random girl but not today.

"So, water?" 

"Not that light."

"Beer perhaps?"

"Add some foam and ice too. How much?"

"With the way you look I'd say on the house. And maybe to shave off that nasty beard of yours."

"Deal, no take backs." He wasn't going to come back anyway.

The bartender was finished with the cocktail and started making his order. But seems to be interested in the loser with a mullet.

"I can see the gears twisting inside your mind. What is it?" He said handing Stan his beer. He grabbed it and immediately took the first sip and wiped off the foam mustache.

There isn't anything normal on a Tuesday for him to talk about. What is there to talk about? His life is a wreck why not just blast all of his burdens on a random bartender and pull the trigger the next da- 

"I'm just some regular guy getting a drink. I don't have a lot to talk about."

"Well you don't look your from here. So why not ask a few questions?"

"Well if you insist. Hmm... There's this one building, never seen that logo before. It started with an L maybe? It also had the globe thing around it."

"Lumon?"

"You tell me."

Stanley took another sip of his beer while the bartender spoke. "Oh that's the famous corporation. All around the world."

"Famous? Why is that?"

"For it's way of they make their business. It's something you need to experience it yourself to believe it. They add this chip inside your brain so the working part would be in a blink of an eye. Real sketchy if ya ask me."

"Into your brain? Anybody would've said the same thing." This guy is nuts. But you can't be crazy and have a job without someone noticing, maybe just a little white lie to lighten the mood. He can play along.

"Yeah, apparently whoever took that is most likely impatient and hates working. My cousin took it and he never felt better, said whenever he's hungover he could just make his innie suffer instead of himself."

"Innie?"

"It's you except when your working. They just exist to work."

"Damn, must be difficult for them."

"I know, right? You done?"

"Yeah, thanks for the free drink, man."

"No problem."

And Stanley left, not remembering anything the next day. And he isn't sure why he remembers it now.

He swept his hair back and put on the headband. It looked a lot like his teenage hairstyle, he's really thankful for the headband. Looking at the mirror seeing himself in his uniform/pajamas preparing for his meeting with Dr. Mauer.

Stan sat down on a chair, on his left was a floating device with buttons. In there he is greeted by a man with grey hair and blue eyes in a lab coat. He smiled at him, this must be Dr. Mauer.

The man went to punch in two buttons and grabbed something else from the ceiling, another machine he had no clue the purpose of it's functions. It had a huge white circle bigger than his head before sitting in his own chair, it's smaller.

"Hello, Stanley. Today you entered the first room, Siena. Congratulations. Do you remember anything?"

Stan shook his head. "Nothing, I entered only to be outside again. Kinda like a loop."

Dr. Mauer chuckled while writing something. "I don't blame you. Everyone has their way of describing it, and all of them are different.Tell me, how did you feel exiting the room?"

"Oh shit, I was supposed to do that?"

"It's okay, it's our fault we didn't let you know and it is your first time. Just tell me anything you felt, your jaw clenching, your fists tight closed shut, a warm feeling in your chest, stinging eyes."

"I was frowning a bit so I guess I was pissed off?"

The doctor's face fell slightly at his comment but went to write again. "When you entered the room and exited it, how much time do you feel pass?"

"Just a few seconds, though it wasn't actually that long, right?"

"That's right." The sound of pen scratching on paper hummed softly again.

"How long will I be doing this?"

"As long as it needs to." The man stood up and left leaving Stan alone with his thoughts.

The hell does that mean?

Chapter Text

Stanley woke up from a dreamless sleep like any regular day, with a loud groan full of hatred. Today was no exception yet a sudden feeling of dread flows through him, today something is happening and he's aware it isn't getting out of here. If he did the feeling would've been joy or something like that.

The half-awake man on the bed used all of his will power to recall anything important today. Checking for high blood pressure? He did that last week. Leaving the fire on? No smoke to be seen. 

C'mon Stanley Caryn Pines. Think harder! 

Or it could just be a fever, the room is the same temperature he had always remembered and he doesn't really feel weak. Stan sat on the mattress rubbing the sweat and dryness off his face while processing his thoughts and lights.

"Stanley, where did you get the cupcake from?" Ford asked skeptically. On their birthday, getting a cake or gifts is not how they would celebrate it with since it was too expensive and causes cavities. Stanley made sure that Ford would stay up so that they could celebrate with the sweet treat. "I hope you paid for this." The six-fingered officially seven years old stares at his twin with a judgmental look. "I got the cupcake so you don't have to worry 'bout a thing, six. And I got blueberry, your favorite!". They spoke their prayers, and granted a wish. 

And that's when it hits him like a lightning strike. It was June 15, Stanley's and Ford's birthday. Another year celebrating their birthday separately, he guessed. He's not surprised by the fact.

A wish was made while laying on the back seat of his while tiredly look at the roof of the car. He kept wishing after wish and waited for something that would never arrive, or not for someone who didn't deserve it. He clutched his dingy baseball bat seeking comfort and warmth in the freezing nights. "Happy birthday, Ford."

In the mirror he noticed his (terribly made) haircut is growing back again. Growing new baby hair and showing the Pines curls he thought he would never gain back due to lack of care and huge knots he couldn't comb out of. They still had knots but it's easier to brush with no pile of dandruff clumping on his scalp. Stan missed his mullet but it kept making his neck sweaty.

He still has no idea why they didn't just let him go through all the rooms at once. Something, something with it still being under construction. Wonder what that means. How hard could it be to make a room? 

Before entering the rooms he must take a health check up with Ms. Cecily. He understands, nobody wants to wake up suddenly having a a fever. Stan somehow managed to get affected by the flu last month and took a break from the dressing up and rooms, the nurse said they cleaned the area squeaky clean perhaps that's why it usually smells like hand sanitizer. It that what they meant by kills off 99.9 bacteria? 

Stanley entered the health inspection room, he sees Ms. Cecily already arrived sitting on her spinning stool. He took a seat in his usual chair, more bigger and soft.  

The nurse checked his temperature, not high enough to get a fever but enough to be healthy. She opened the drawer grabbing a stethoscope and a sphygmomanometer, pumping air into arm puff squeezing his forearm with the sound of wheezing coming from the instrument and using the stethoscope to listen to the pace of his heartbeat.

Then Stanley goes to a scale instrument, the blonde woman using it because Stan also doesn't know what it is. It went with a 'Thunk, clack' noise possibly indicating his weight.

Stan went back to sit own his respected chair as well as the nurse. She grabs two weird shaped stones?? and handing them to him. They felt slightly heavy in his hands.

"Bring them up higher."

The silence made stan got caught off guard because he didn't fully wake up yet so hearing someone talk felt like a false alarm and embarrassingly shocking but he immediately brought his arms slightly higher, about in-between his chest and his torso. 

"You've eaten today, sweetheart?"

Stan's face warmed up in a soft red and pinkish hue in embarrassment and surprise. No one called him in such names but his Ma which was years before he reached his teenage years, then Pa said that it was too girly to have nicknames like those and he had believed the man.

"Yeah."

The nurse grabed a yellowish device and brought her right hand to twist something and to press a few buttons. He hears the device click and the humming of it flickering. 

"Done your reading?"

"About 20 pages or less, I didn't count."

Ms. Cecily switched two buttons causing a chime noise that lasted for a few seconds. "Calisthenics?"

"Yes." It was one of a few things he could do that Ford couldn't, had a couple of medals from the boxing lessons Pa made him do. He hated it at first but now it's keeping him alive and intact, if words and convincing didn't work then he'll have no choice either to run for it or take a few hits. "Got any cigarettes here?"

"We need you in your best condition, so, no, we don't." The gentle flickering from the device echoes in his ears again before interrupted by a question. "If you were caught in a mudslide, would you be more afraid of suffocating or drowning?"

Stanley still has some flashbacks of staying in the trunk of his own car in the scorching dessert and lost a couple of tooths in the name of freedom. His life on the beach improved his swimming skills and able to float back onto the surface with little to no failure so it'd make more sense if he said-

"Drowning." He can't go through it again. During his first few moments on the beach he accidentally drowned and swallowed some salt water. A lesson was taught, don't open your mouth and/or eyes when your in the ocean or a swimming pool.

The nurse stares(or glared?) at him for a moment. It was a personal question it shouldn't have a bad or a good choice. She nodded accepting his answer and went to place the stones?? and the device back inside the drawer. She stood up to write something against the drawer giving a chance for Stanley to relax. "So, how many rooms today?"

"Four but we'll be postponing it for next week for a new experiment."

Wait.. an experiment?"Are you gonna explain about this 'experiment' or just leave me hangin'?"

She turns her head briefly before going back to writing half paying attention to him, rude. "You'll be going to the severed floor and just like the rooms were not telling you what's in there or what your doing to ensure that the chip is still functional. Go to your room, dress up with the outfit we prepared and wait at the elevator."

The elevator he almost broke his knuckles punching it and now he's allowed to enter it. Woohoo. Stan wants to ask about this 'severed floor' but has a gut feeling he won't receive an answer so he doesn't push it and went to his room.

In the closet he stares deeply at the assigned clothes. There was a long sleeved dark green emerald sweater, the collar is high enough to reach past his collarbones. The mocha shaded long pants(was he gonna cosplay as a tree?). Brown leather shoes. And of course, a wig(those things are so itchy), the exact same dark brown as his own. The same front curls that were blessed by his Ma, but in a ponytail. Not exactly to his taste. 

And lastly, the shiny metal pin placed on the left side of his chest with the Lumon symbol. Honestly, he can't decide if this was prison or a school anymore.

Getting dressed he went outside finding Dr. Mauer next to the elevator door. Stan wonders if he punched hard enough until blood had bled through and smudged the metal, he was too panicked during that time. All the straight forward information given to him did numbers on him.

The blue eyed man inserted a card into the thin hole giving Stanley a new goal: steal the card. It may take some time and planing but he's definitely getting his hands on it soon, he has his ways.

"You will bring many benefits there, don't think too hard on it." Said Dr. Mauer in a calm tone. 

Is he supposed to give gratitude for his support? "Thanks.. i guess."

'Ding' The doors open waiting for Stanley's arrival. "Once your done, wear your uniform and meet me at my office." The doctor said before Stanley could take his first step in the elevator.

Of course there was gonna be a meeting after this. During middle school, chemistry class projects wasn't only about mixing chemicals in the right order they must take notes about the chemical reaction and the timing and colours to know they did it right. Stan did the mixing and Ford did the observation and instruction part, simple as that. So it'd make sense some questions will be asked, this is an assignment and he is the main ingredient.

Stan took a slightly hesitant step onto the metal platform and stood in the center unwillingly and nervousness. The last thing he saw before the doors closed on his face he saw Dr. Mauer waving at him with a smile.

'Ding'

█████ took a deep breath as if he was suffocating.

Two metal doors separate from each other behind him. He turned his body gazing at the narrow and dark hallway made of cement. At the end of the tunnel shined a light, freedom.

Adjusting to his surroundings he awkwardly steps out of the elevator his shoes touching the rough ground and a gentle click from the heels. The light has a gap blocked by a man standing idle in it's center and a cold grin plastered on his face sending a shiver down his spine yet he remained professional trying to maintain a steady look to not look like easy prey.

He brings himself closer to the light keeping a neutral expression on his eyebrows locking eyes with the quiet man. He remain unmoving and holding it's gentle facade. About a foot away from him, █████ stared into the eerie eyes of him. His vision is more focused seeing more features from the man, a short sleeved white shirt and black tie, the perfectly trimmed and symmetrical mustache, black pants, and a rope around his neck with a blue card above his tie with a light blue water drop symbol.

"Good morning, today is a special day. How are you feeling?" Said the man in a cheery voice.

"... What is this place?" 

The man's grin faltered at the quick question but came back as he had imagined it. "Before I answer that I need to ask you one simple thing. Who are you?"

He couldn't bring himself to answer him. A ringing echoed through his ear, he thinks harder but it made the headache worse, he doesn't want that.

"... I don't know." He knows he shouldn't be calm about this yet he is. This man could be dangerous and merciless and could slaughter him without a second thought. His knees slightly shiver from the thought of it and the anxiety monitoring his adrenaline making his jaw clench in unease, best to keep an eye on him. 

"It's no worries. Your name is Mr. Forrester. The name's Mr. Milchick, please follow me." Mr. Milchick moved away from the door allowing him to enter the bright walls illuminated by ceiling lights and definitely not the sun like he had thought.

"I would suggest you memorize your way to the wellness room. The next day I won't be here to assist you if you get lost." He chuckled but Mr. Forrester found that quite worrying. He is now repeating the directions in his head to keep track.

While walking to the supposedly 'Wellness room', Mr. Milchick gave him instructions on what his purpose in there. "No matter how insufferable or uncooperative your patient can be, do not get infuriated, we have a special place for them to reduce disobedience. We'll be watching for you even if were not there."

Should he be concerned about that? Yeah, he should, definitely. █- Mr. Forrester took a quick glance behind him, just in case. He accidentally bumped into Mr. Milchick causing warmth spreading across his cheeks from shock and embarrassment though it wasn't his fault he wasn't paying attention but Mr. Milchick's for abruptly stopping in his tracks.

There stood a door coloured the same like the walls nearly making it impossible to notice it as a door. Tiny letters on the right upper side of it, the Wellness Room. The man twisted it's doorknob and let Mr. Forrester enter it first. 'What a gentleman.' he thought to himself because it was okay if he entered it last but Mr. Milchick is supposed to lead him, not the other way around.

Two green couches on his left and on his right, more saturated and lighter than his sweater. Paintings over the right couch and some words for positivity and encouragement. Walls painted white and corners filled with aloe vera making the room more enthusiastic to walk in just from it's refreshing scent.

The painting shows a bearded man in a white shirt and red fabric around his shoulder and waist hitting four people in a dark cave, they fear and attempt to escape their fate and fail drastically seeing tears flowing down their chin. The four has different and unique appearances. A goat in man's clothing, a black and red jester, a bride, and an old lady. They try to avoid the bearded man's whipping with their hands. Very unsettling, indeed.

At the end has two dark gray doors, the left to enter and the right to exit. The room was possibly made by perfectionist and a minimalist considering how simple and symmetrical the atmosphere felt around him.

"For every patient this is a wellness room to gradually free them from stress and anxiety but for you this is an office, your office to be precise." Mr. Milchick said heading to the enter door. "Follow me, please. This is the important bit." He went through the door in a rush because of how quick the man is.

Inside, his eyes first the giant tree in the back. A few leaves fell and parted from it's branch choosing a new home on the wooden floor. The wooden floor is surrounded by stones where the tree is planted. Tiles to easily reach the the center without stumbling on the rocks. A dark blue and black marble table with a coral(or branch?) stone laying on it and two soft light green chairs facing each other. Two stones with a flat top, one with a box of tissues. A dark blue stone behind the second chair with a transparent bottle filled with an unknown liquid but enchanting aroma. The circle lights illuminating the room dim almost making him sleepy.

"Let's do a quick demonstration shall we?" Mr. Milchick said just in time before he dozed off. He walked and sat on the chair next to the tissues and gestured for him to sit opposite him. He does so at a hesitant pace but not too long for the other to be impatient. He was right, it is soft. 

"There should be a drawer under that." He said pointing at the tabletop. Mr. Forrester searched for a knob, successfully he pulled it only to see nothing inside the tiny and thin space. "Before a patient comes in you must be ready with their outie sheet. First, you read it and understand what kind of person they are."

Did he hear that correctly? "I'm sorry, a what sheet?"

"Outie. It's them but from the outside, every employee you see has an outie including you. However, employees with a higher status- like me- don't have one. A patient will wait at the waiting room giving you enough time to prepare and they are prohibited to enter until you call out their name. Why don't we give it a shot? I'll be your first patient." Mr. Milchick exits the left door(the exit door). 

How does he prepare? He didn't clarify that part very clearly. Mr. Forrester walks to and opens the exit door seeing Mr. Milchick sitting idly on the left couch. He fixes his voice and straightened his posture by the door frame. "Ahem. Mr. Milchick?"

He stood up and walk towards him shortening the gap between the two with a proud grin. "That was a perfect result, though I'd advise to not show any apprehensive emotions. It may give them the false idea."

He doesn't have the slightest clue what that meant. "Try to look neutral. Us humans tend to feel based on what they see. Let's head back inside."

The two spent inside for hours by now with Mr. Milchick teaching him on how and when to use the complex words his tongue isn't used to say. While half-listening, Mr. Forrester attempted to visualize a life he had had before the dark alleyway, nothing comes to mind leaving him to ask his only source for answers.

"Did I have a life before I was here?"

Mr. Milchick abruptly stopped his chatter and looks at him with the cold eyes, mouth flinching trying to get an answer out(or nervous?). "You do, Mr. Forrester. All I can say is that it's a divine one." The corner of Mr. Forrester lips went slightly higher knowing he had something to live for. He pleaded with his eyes to gain more knowledge of his life. The man looks at him with a chuckle indicating he won't, he didn't. "Unfortunately, non-disclosure policy forbids. Your outie will feel discomfort if we invade his privacy."

The spark from his eyes faded in an exhausting amount of time, he gripped the chair's soft cushion. "Even from his own innie?"

"Yes, Mr. Forrester."

Chapter Text

Learning. Stanford P doesn't hate learning, he just hates what he's learning. Could you really blame him? A life(or fate) where you are forbidden to feel curious at the sensation of freedom, treated lower than an animal or an uneducated child, a pet. 

Stanford P didn't want to accept it or the fact another version of himself just walks out free paying no mind to the torture he on purposely placed onto himself. For some reason everyone around him had already accepted their fate, desperate to survive he stayed silent on the unfair rules. You can't be obedient until you're afraid of something. A humans curiousity is what makes them so fragile yet they let it take control just for satisfaction. 

The youngest member of MDR sat on the lunch table staring at the peanuts he bought from the vending machine deep in thought. 'It happened today too.' A hand grabbed a chair sitting opposite from him, the screech from the chair's legs irritated him. Sitting there was Fiddleford M. Aka the guy that showed him how to live in a capitalist corporation, that wasn't the first reason the brown haired man hated him. It was when he agreed to wake him up just to answer a dumb survey.

The dirty blonde sipped his coffee while taking note of Stanford's uneasy behavior. It's not the first time he saw that sour face. He puts his mug down with a grunt but keeps a nurturing expression. "A fun fact about me is that I like to solve things, so, tell me about that." The skinnier of the two pointed at the other's face with determination. Whilst the other questioned himself if this was serious, a mockery, or an act to lower his guard. 

"Why should you care, it's not like I'm your responsibility." Fiddleford just stared at Stanford with a slowly raised eyebrow. Right, he is infact his responsibility, but that doesn't mean he is allowed to treat him like a baby. "Okay, I'll give ya that but I'm pretty sure my feelings aren't what you signed up for let alone something you'd be willing to spend time on." The guy with semicircular glasses thinks he has proven a point so he quietly celebrated.

"Unfortunately, I am willing to spend time on your feelings, boo hoo." Fiddleford M. protested in a cocky attitude, Ford never saw that behavior before. Let's see how good a refiner can be as a detective. "Fine, my good friend, Fidds.. I'll tell ya but I better not hear someone talking about it." 

"It's a deal."

"I'll snap that nose if I find out you lied.." whispered Ford. Perhaps Fiddleford shouldn't intimidate his threat. The day when Ford arrived it was... Quite scary(and sorta funny) but he's all talk and no bite. Definitely. 

"What."

"Don't worry 'bout it."

Stanford struggled to explain the situation, his mouth opening and closing and his eyes looking anywhere but Fidds before giving up. "Just forget it. It's.. embarrassing. Sorry." He opened the box of peanuts and began munching on them like a kid who's too scared to be angry to their parents yet still wants to feel anger. 'I think these would taste better if they were sweet...'

Fiddleford didn't like it when he knows something is wrong but doesn't do anything about it, he'll keep thinking about it until he knows the situation has healed. He isn't nosy, sometimes when there's a problem he can't fix he'll just watch the aftermath or seek out help.

"Ford, we made a deal. You even threatened me." The rounded glasses tried to persuade him in a non-offensive manner. He's so close to solving a unique puzzle. Reminds him of that day where he saw a painting with a man goat person, and decided to build an accurate goat using his imagination. Stabbing five toothpicks on an eraser and stuck a dried up wet tissue as the head, and a couple of dots and lines for the mouth and ears. It's still on his desk to this day.

If the shorter one of the two wasn't guilty then that face would mean constipation. "If you don't want to I'll just leave." Fidds gave Ford a minute to reconsider, a face says 'Im sure' greets him and stands up to wash his mug. "Just ask if you change your mind."

"Y'got it." Despite the peanuts bits get stuck in your teeth, you'd still eat them Ford figured.

~

Ding!

Stanford P finished his first day of work and stepped into the elevator around 5.15 pm.

Ding!

Stanford P gasped waking up from the elevator at 9 am. Confusion settles in, this is not how time works and he's sure of it. 

... Maybe not.

The new employee rushed to the MDR department demanding an explanation from the department chief. When he arrived the squeaking noise from his shoes caught the attention of the members. It appears only two of them had arrived, one happened to be Fidds. 

"Fidds... We need ta' talk." The six-fingered man approached the dirty blonde's desk trying to lower his voice. 

"Sure, buddy." 

...

"So you're saying I don't experience the outside world but my outie gets to?"

"Yeah."

"What day is it right now?"

"Monday."

"I missed a weekend??" Ford exclaimed, furious. That's so cruel, too cruel. Fiddleford doesn't seem too bothered about it.

"That's normal, sometimes you'd wake up with a mosquito bite or an ulcer in a while. At least, they're in charge of like paying taxes and the strict nutrition diet."

"..." The brown haired man gripped on his chest in discomfort. This causes the other to get worried. "You okay?"

Then the newbie sniffed, and signalling for what that meant. "Oh, scared me a bit. You're probably gonna be sick tomorrow and won't come but you'll never know." 

~

Judging by his attitude, the department chief could tell he was going to be troublesome, in the span of two weeks he managed to escape using the staircase but eventually he came back disappointed. Fiddleford took the blame and warned the newcomer. "If you get in trouble again, I can't help you." He said after leaving with Mr. Graner and didn't see him until tomorrow.

Stanford didn't need pity, why should Fidds take the blame when he's responsible for his actions? If innies get punished for breaking the rules then that would give him a chance to convince his outie not to put him here again. He just needs to find a way to talk to him.

Somewhere around 7, Fidds came back looking exhausted and just refused to tell him what happened or even bothered talking to him. For a moment, he saw vulnerability in a leader. 

A sigh of regret, the blonde took the courage to speak with Ford. "Is there anything I can do to stop you from misbehaving?" He looked at the newbie, face full of giving up and annoyance. What Stanford replied back could lead Fiddleford to killing him.

"God, I hope not." Stanford snickered as he proceeded to play around on his computer and fidgeting with the keyboards. He's asking for it. 

"You better pray Kier you won't get the bad soap." 

As ridiculous as it sounds, it's actually a threat when you know what lies under it's silly name. The endless hours trying to █████ and stay █████ ███. Leaving █████ around your █████.

".. I'm pretty sure you're just messing with me."

"Whatever floats your boat, Stanford." 

~

"Morning, Stanford. How's refining the Moonbeam file coming along?" Fiddleford spoke casually walking through the door, Stanford thinks department chiefs are supposedly come in early. A tiny flaw.

"I've managed to reach 45% in the span of two weeks beating the last file so I'll take it as a victory." Stanford sighed continuing to scroll through the eternal space of numbers shaking in the corner of his eyes looking for the ones making you feel emotions. 

"Looks like someone is aiming for the waffles, hehe." Said the Felicia who took Stanford's spotlight for her refining intelligence and extreme focus.

"Good morning, everyone. Hope I'm not too late.. again." Burt walks in and greeted the young coworkers with that comforting smile. Stanford could see it widen when the others laughed at the incident that happened a few times last quarter.

"Burt, you need to let that go you know that's your outie's fault. Not once you had to go to the break room for your outie's mistakes."

While Felicia and Burt were talking, Ford blurred their words to pay attention to Fiddleford's scribbling. The semicircular glasses brought the sliding popup wall downwards to get better view to satisfy his curiosity and light up his entertainment. 

"Whatcha got there, Fidds? Sudoku, again? Y'know I should try playing them sometime." The action caused to surprise the other and instinctively took the paper away from sight. The fear in his eyes and the nervous smile trying to cover up suspicion. 

"Yep, still working on it. I'll make you one if I remember to. Me and Tate used to play this when he went to middle school, miss those times..." Fiddleford smiled nostalgically before frowning.

Ford could only process this information in confusion. "Who's Tate?"

The slimmer of the two raised his head slightly before bringing his hands to his temples. Shallowed breaths and painful yet silent cries only heard by his best friend. 

"It's nothing.." Said the man while he brushed the sweat off his face unaware of the flowing red ooze dripping down his nose to chin.

"There's something on your nose..." Stanford said flatly and worried about him. He has never seen blood in such amount before. He used to play with his nails and got too annoyed at the tiny trail in the corner and ripped it off, safe to say he's no longer allowed to touch his nails, ever. But he wasn't worried when that happened because he knew the cause.

This is new to him, and Fiddleford acts like it's just a minor injury. Stanford knows he's hiding something, something that hurts him, or a problem better to be unseen, a feeling of vulnerability. He's done it too. Anyone would've.

In the end, it's useless. A survival instinct leading to misery. You'd reach rock bottom and not notice and nobody would help. It's an option to let it out or keep it in, our eyes gets blinded by the fear of looking weak makes you think the second option is safer not realizing the problem you've become, maybe you did and thought it was too late and just let all your closest people grow distant not wanting to be more of a burden.

Stanford could only watch and sit idly as Fiddleford went to the bathroom while grinning. "I'll be back, don't worry 'bout it." 

What's middle school?

He watched as Fiddleford closed the bathroom door and went to the others. "Guys, Fidds got another nosebleed. Should we tell Mr. Milchick?"

Burt and Felicia looked at him in disagreement but also worrisome. "Didn't he make it clear he doesn't want any higher-ups knowing it? That suggestion made him kind of.. aggressive. Seen him angry before but never that strong, especially with you." Burt said, he wants to agree but doesn't want to cross the line and break their trust.

"He's right. Even with provided medical care, we mustn't invade his personal things I mean- we rarely get to have privacy with all these cameras around. I'm sure they would notice by now." Felicia's on Burt's side, she makes her statement known and logical as always. She doesn't let empathy block her sense of logic but also feels it.

Stanford could only imagine if he was as smart as them and doesn't constantly put his feelings first, one of the main things stopping them from being seen as immature.

~

Stanford is called to have a meeting with Ms. Cobel in her new office by Mr. Milchick. The board is with them which is.. a speaker. "I have Stanford P at my desk." Ms. Cobel spoke to The Board calmly.

'Should he greet them too? Oh, fuck it.' "Hello... You.. I'm assuming this is about me becoming department chief today."

The gray haired woman gives no indication whether his assuming is correct or wrong. Stanford thinks he should keep going. "Okay.. so I've subbed for Fidds before-"

"Fiddleford is no longer with this company." Ms. Cobel said coldly as if Fiddleford had never worked there, a stranger. Not even caring how Stanford felt.

"... What?" 

Ms. Cobel repeated, more louder almost annoyed. "I said Fiddleford is no longer with this company." 

Mr. Milchick stood behind Ms. Cobel's seat. "I'm sorry, Stanford. You two were one of my favorite office friendships." 

Something's up. "Shouldn't there be some farewell party or notice? What happened?" Ford knows what their going to say next but please Kier give at least a hint. 

"We'd love to tell you." Damn it. "But non-disclosure privacy forbids. We'd be aiding an assault on Fiddleford's privacy by you." Some excuse.

"Stanford, would you mind placing your key card on my desk?" Ms. Cobel requested the confused man and went to grab something from her desk. 

Not wanting to risk a break room session he takes off his key card and puts it on her desk not even bothered to placing it neatly. "Next time, fold the strings neatly." She adds a different key card with the strings folded tidily around the card. "Like this."

"Right, got it, Ms. Cobel. Sorry." He grabs the neatly placed key card and wore it around his neck.

"Stanford P, at this time I confer upon you the freedom to serve Kier in the advanced role of Macrodata Refinement department chief. Congratulations." Ms. Cobel stood up to congratulate formality. "A handshake is available upon request."

He inspected his new key card in silent awe before talking. "Thank you, can I-"

"May."

"May I have a handshake?" Stanford quickly corrected his grammar and raised his right hand. The old woman hesitated but raised her hand as well.

"I know you haven't run a training before so Burt will be there to shadow." 

~ 

"Don't feel too bad." Burt said to lighten his devastation, he can feel the presence of sadness surrounding Stanford.

"It's fine- I'll be fine." Stanford quickly reassured that loosing his best friend won't affect him too much and not a problem.

"I know you two were close. He was the only one who appreciated your humor."

"Everything's fine. So I'm supposed to start at the input survey? Isn't that a little weird?" Mark said trying to change the topic, he should since it's his first time training.

Mr. Milchick is currently getting the tv started. "It's standard. Just start at 1A and continue by line, based on her answers." 

"Well, what if I just talk to her?" 

"She deserves to have the information presented to her in the proper order. Just as you had." Mr. Milchick said and checked to see the quality of the image.

"If the trainee becomes agitated and demands to leave, skip to page 19." The current department chief read on the manual book that was given to him from Ms. Cobel.

"She has to ask three times for you to let her." Burt said out of the blue. It's not surprising he knows these things.

"Right. Yes." By the time Mark said that, Mr. Milchick finished fixing the tv, it had already shown a woman laying on the table unconscious like he used to.

Long blonde hair with tan skin in blue t-shirt and greyish green skirt and light peach heels.

"Image is good." The black man said.

"She looks nice." The old man said to bring ease to Stanford.

"Okay. You’re all set." Mr. Milchick said as he went to leave. "I just love seeing you all come in like this." He left closing the door behind him leaving Stanford and Burt with the monitor.

"Go on ahead when you’re ready."

"All right. Okay." The young man took a deep breath pushing away all his focus on Fiddleford. His main focus is her.

The brown haired man clicked the speak button and brought his voice to the mic.

"Who are you?"

~

He understood that shallow depth he felt in his chest after two years of his existence. Grief, woe of losing someone dear knowing it's too late. 

Dealing with your outie's and your own grief is like eating chocolate with needles trapped in it. He'll have to endure the pain to fully appreciate the creamy sweetness from the cacao beans, the hard work from the farmers, the carefully wrapped wrapper, and the smile you make after a single bite. 

It doesn't matter how long you hold it in, the blood will soon drip, the needles will attack your throat, and your coughing will be heard. And you still have to brush your teeth.

Two years until he understood true jealousy. He thought his outie would be happy living without working. His statement was indeed wrong but he understands why. Grief isn't made up nor is it something that shouldn't be seen as weak but to understand and to be known.

His outie has the privilege to make choices, to feel- to grieve, to search for meaning, free to question, while he must continue working in this hell of an office and the cold, uncaring environment that Lumon couldn't possibly fix.

Can he feel his? He could try and never gain an answer but he will. At least enough to make him ponder since he's allowed. Perhaps also a request to stop drinking before work.