Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes his mind would wander about how he'd appear in the light world.

He hadn't seen himself from an outsider’s perspective, in fact the only clear memory of the light world had devolved from his view into his pocket-sized window of hope he'd plucked from the Neo vessel ages ago- as if it were planted just for him. The story would say so, but with it's... changes... so far, he couldn't be less sure when seeing how it had played out in the end.

At one point in his life, this was seen as a blessing; a euphoric pillar of justification; an amendment to his sufferings. A call from [Heaven] to the outreaches of the abyss of his unreality and his nonexistence. It was a reward for a simple and dedicated puppet, who had followed every instruction adequately and with enthusiasm… until he was betrayed into giving up his only line of knowledge by the only darkner he could trust.

Don't think about him right now.

While his eyes burned, while the light seared through his vision, painting new ambition from colors most unseen by the typical inhabitant of the dark, a new muse carried itself on the wings of the rays of [Heaven] , calling for him exclusively. After all, every piece of technology should come with manufactured instructions for easy use, even if this technology was a discarded, empty dream. Months of praying to it had conceded him an answer… but of course that wasn't to last.

If he had been something else, say the clouds in that blinding sky, or the bright blue expanse of pure, untainted [Heaven], if he'd even think this witness was worthy of recognition, what would he see in return? He knew from his clues, and what he'd been enlightened on, that he was in a computer, maybe a lighter’s email left open accidentally, where the screen faced the most beautiful image in the world.

However, now?

Spamton wondered what he looked like out there. What remnants of reality he was given to exist as in his curse of nonexistence. What form now defined him. Most likely he was a physical item like the clown’s playing card for the convenience of transport? It made sense. Just a printed out email on faded under-budget library ink, then shoveled into the pocket of his dearest lightner companion. Was he at least given the respect to be neatly folded? What was the email that now cemented what he'd become?

No, if he'd called the shots and was in the shoes of the one he'd almost maimed one light-world day prior, he would have found something utterly pathetic and demeaning, preferably an email residing unread in the labyrinth of the junk folder, so whenever he'd get a chance to read it, he'd remember exactly what he'd done. Spamton hoped Kris wouldn't, as they were his closest friend at this point in the story, but he wouldn't be surprised if they'd crumbled him into a ball just because their puppeteer-entity required them to equip him in later adventures.

…Which would explain why he had so easily fallen out of their inventory.

And Castle Town wasn't the most friendly place for a discarded salesman down on his luck, considering all the darkners that potentially knew him here.

…

Recognized. Or not.

DON’T think about him. 

Get down to business. That's what you're good at, right? 

…

Business.

Spamton had woken up on the outskirts of Castle Town and at first was confused why he wasn't out of commission as the dealmaker. He was awake without Kris, which was not how it was supposed to be. Confusion turned to irritation when connecting the dots he'd somehow fallen out of the inventory, and then that irritation turned to panic . He didn't have a place to stay, he didn't know anyone helpful or that held him in any sort of high regard, and for all he knew those damn addisons would be prowling around, sticking their too-long noses into everyone's business to get them to cater towards their shady sales. That meant competition and he didn't know if he could realistically handle that at the moment. Laying low had to be the only option, but maybe he could try and connect with Kris’ fluffy prince friend to help him out. After all, Kris’ friends were his friends. They all had spared him in the end.

But finding him was going to be difficult, as he was probably busy with getting the… TV world darkners settled.

DON’T

THINK.

…Just… 

…just try and stay out of sight.

The puppet started navigating the streets of Castle Town, sticking to walking behind too-tall darkners or darting behind corners wherever necessary, keeping his head down and constantly readjusting his dealmakers over his eyes. The café was nearby, as well as other buildings darkners had built and inhabited to find joyous purpose in the same nonexistence that plagued him. Small glitches interrupted his adamant pace towards the center castle, causing him to stumble slightly but rapidly recover as he continued his pursuit.

His heart felt like it was clamoring in his head, with how strong it beat in his chest as he slipped around darkners walking around him. Some from his world, like swatchlings, were of higher priority to avoid, and then those from Jevil’s world were on the lower end in risk. The darkners from the newest addition to this retreat he… didn't want to test. Just in case he hadn't let his past advertisements die. 

Even still, that didn't matter. 

Don’t you recognize…

DON’T!!!! THINK!!! OF HIM!!!

“SON OF A [[fun loving fudge]]-” Spamton bit down hard to quell the recent memory from his mind as a glitch broke his face apart into scattered pixels. He gripped his cheeks, then his scalp and ground his teeth to stabilize what was contorted, and breathed heavily when it began to reside. He didn't think his heart could beat any faster, but when a shadowguy from the newest dark world looked in his general direction, pointing and talking with a card darkner nearby in their saxophone notes, he picked up his pace in the castle’s direction, furrowing his brow in frustration as the final pixels reassembled themself.

Or draw attention to yourself. That's a great idea, too. Why the fuck didn't I think of that?! That helps you out SO much with the crappy day you've already been having.

It's not Kris’s fault, this must have been an accident. They didn't just leave me here for nothing. 

Sooner or later, the castle came into view and Spamton briskly walked across the courtyard into the front entrance, where he took in his new surroundings. The majority of which looked like darkners from TV world the party encountered, some shadowmen, some of the pippins, and those that had already resided here in the first pl-

A blast of bright white light flashed in his face and he inadvertently flinched away with a static screech that ripped out of his vocal cords. The puppet went to cover his eyes as he took maddened steps backward, blinking repeatedly to ward off the light that had just assaulted his vision.

“Haven't seen a darkner like you before! You must be from one of the other dark worlds! Gee, you're not very photogenic are you? This photo barely turned out!”

What the…?!

Spamton narrowed and scrubbed his eyes as his vision refocused on a shuttah in front of him. He'd met and known a fair amount of these darkner camerathings back in his early days, when a camera glow was a comfort, not a reason to panic. He never thought he'd live to see the day where he'd encounter another one again. Especially not at the receiving end of a photograph. The shuttah held a black and white photo and looked at it with disappointment.

“H >H;    H hhHEY!!1! YOU HAVE TO [[paid in advance]] FOR THAT!! DO YOU THINK THAT [merchindise] IS [free for patrons over 65]?!     GIMME THAT [compensation] OR YOU’LL BE HEARING FROM MY          !!” Spamton exclaimed as he advanced towards the other darkner, reaching pathetically for the photo, his head beginning to now glitch in another frenzy. The camerathing darkner took hasty steps away from him, letting out an exclamation of surprise.

“YOU CAN’T [[capture the goods]] AND GET A;aWAY WITH IT THAT EASILY!!1! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I       ?! DON’T YOU [No running in pool area] KNOW WHO I AM?!?”

He leaped for the photo held by the shuttah, but one erratic glitch sent him hurtling forward towards the pavement, where he lost his balance. Stumbling forward with a small ‘oof!’, he wasted a second more than he wanted in regaining his footing, and when he finally did, he realized that stupid camerathing had fled. Groaning, and noticing the incident got a fair amount of attention via the surrounding darkners in the area, he decided it wasn't worth it to chase them down. 

“THAT DAMN [paparatzi]...” He muttered to himself as he brushed his hair back. Surely in his search for the fluffy goat kid, he'd come across that shuttah and give it a piece of his mind. He hadn't signed any contracts, and refused to be compensated at the bottom dollar for any photo op he accidentally stumbled into while in his current situation.

He pushed past other darkners, weaving around those that talked, trying to find just a glimpse of-

White fur and red horns.

The lonely prince, who's name he'd already forgotten to remember, scribbled enthusiastically onto a clipboard where Spamton noticed the types of other darkners that were most likely recruited. It looked as if he was taking accountability of those that now populated Castle Town, and Spamton’s vision narrowed on him as he ran in that direction.

“YOU !! [esTemed customer]!! CARE TO EXPL4iN TO ME WHY THE [[50% discount code]] I’M [out of my box]??!” 

The prince only had the time to look up from his clipboard and barely turn in the direction of the puppet before his face fell in surprise.

“Mr. Spamton! What-” He looked utterly shocked by the salesman standing in front of him. “What are you d-doing here?”

“THAT’S WHY I’M [[asking for donations]] YOU!!1 BECAUSE I SURE AS [Sin] DONT HAVE A [[#%$&ING]] IDEA! WHY AM I NOT [accessorys and parts sold separately] RIGHT NOW?? [[Off the grid]]?!” Spamton gestured wildly around him before holding his hands out in front of him. “I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO [Be] HERE! I’M [suppost] TO BE [[livin the dream]] IN MY [solitary confinement], DOING MY [[15% less or no money down]]!”

His smile strained, thinking of the ludicrousness of his position. He wasn't playing hooky! He wasn't abandoning anybody by being here, right?! This had to be a mistake! 

“WHAT KIND OF [cheap laugh] IS THIS?! THROWING A [Big Shot] [out onto the world]!”

“I-I don't know…! But don't… don't worry!” The prince stammered at first. “We’ll find out why you're here. But, on the bright side, at least you're in a safe spot?”

“[[Brightest Bulbs on the market]] SIDE??”

“Right..! At least we know you're here now for the time being. No need to panic. Though this doesn't happen often, we can get you set up with a place to stay just until Kris comes back and you can go back to serving them as our ally. Does that sound okay?”

A free rent-free room and board? Just for him? Sure the 'on the bright side’ comment had traces of static occupying his vision, but the promise of at least a place he could settle in for the time being made him feel a little calmer.

“ARE YOU SAYING YOU WANT TO GIVE YOUR [ol pal Spamton] MY V3;>rrY OWN [[2 story bedroom suite with free accommodations]] AT THE [low, low price] OF      ?”

“Well, I can see what we have here in the castle! I'm still trying to get all the TV world darkners situated, so space is limited. Although…” The prince hummed. “Oh I believe some of the addisons have some spare room, we could put you th-”

“NO.” Spamton said darkly and definitively, as he glared upward at the younger darkner. The prince’s smile immediately faltered, and instantly Spamton knew he'd made the wrong move speaking his mind that way. 

Change things up, it's not too late to save this sale! 

“I MEAN… EAHEAHEAHA!!” The puppet waved off his former aggression. “YOU GOTTA BE [pulling my] HERE, KID!! YOU REALLY THINK I’D LAST [one in a million] SECOND WITH THOSE [low-rate] TRAITORS ?! I’LL TAKE MY CHANCES- TAKE MY CHANCES- TAKE MY CHANCES- TAKE MY CHANCE- TAKE MY CHANCE-” 

The puppet gripped his bottom jaw and snapped it shut to cut off the repeating ad. After a beat of gathering himself, he continued. “...TAKE MY CHANCES [[dying]] IN A [class action lawsuit] THAN BOARD WITH         !! YOU’LL HAVE TO TAKE ME [[investing in that timeshare]]!! YOU’LL HAVE TO TAKE ME [[wet and dripping and screaming]]! I’M NOT DOING [$&%?] WITH THEM.”

“O-okay! No addisons, I promise. Just hang tight, I’ll for sure see if we have anything here in the castle, okay? After all, you're an essential member to the party, you should have some place to stay in cases like this.”

Spamton slowly nodded, releasing his bottom jaw. 

And that folks is how to secure the best sale you can get! Everything's going to be... fine.

“After all, we still don't know what happened to you yet! I'm sure Kris didn't mean to lose you. When they come back, I’m sure they'll find it necessary to equip you again. It must have just been an accident!”

Lose me…?

“...THEY WOULDN’T [Throw it out before it starts smelling], RIGHT?”

“H-huh?”

“HAHA... EAHAHAHA!!" His laughter sounded forced, and a few glitches jerked his head around. "I’M [[comedy corner]]!! NO ONE CAN [dispose] OF [Number #1Rated Salesman] AND GET AWAY WITH IT!!! HA.. HEAHEA… RIGHT?? RIGHT?!” Spamton slung an arm around the prince, who noticeably flinched. “KRIS AND ME!! [Best of buds]!! TIGHTER THAN [[thievery]]!! THEY WOULDN’T GET [getting second thoughts about that condo?]!!1! NOT AFTER ALL I’VE [becommed] FOR YOU ALL.  NOT AFTER I LET THEM IN ON THE [Kromer] GROUND FLOOR.”

He… now wasn't sure. After all, the events of Neo were fairly fresh, and crippling guilt crossed his system as he reminded himself of the image of his lightner friend at the end of the barrel of Neo’s blaster arm. The [[SOUL]] at a perfect reach… it was unattainable, sure, but that didn't mean that they still didn't see him as a threat. 

This could be a subtle sign that he'd outlived his usefulness and was being disposed of, right at his redemption, and he'd have no way of knowing or not.  

The phone didn't ring anymore.

The phone didn't ring anymore.

“Oh n-no, of course not, if I get what you're saying! I don't think the lightners would ever throw you out-”

The puppet, before really processing what he was doing, he released the prince and and aggressively snatched the front of his cloak, warranting a panicked gasp from him.

“...YOU DON’T [think]?! I KNOW MY [[partner in crimes]] WOULD NEVER [chuck me] IN THE [get quotes on garbage disposals]! I KNOW KRIS AND THEY WOULDN’T DO THAT.”

He shook him, once, and the prince gently grabbed his shaking hands.

“They haven't said anything to me, Mr. Spamton. I really do think it was an accident! A-after all, lightners sometimes lose things. It's okay! We’ll both talk to them when they get back. You've done a lot for us, and we're happy to have you as an ally! It’ll be okay. Just settle down.”

Spamton’s strained smile relaxed and the tension in his shoulders eased. He still trembled, but hearing the certainty in the younger darkner’s, no, his new friend’s, voice, he felt his anxieties ebb away, as if they too knew the darkner struggle of being lost or forgotten–

It was seemingly out of nowhere that the back of his jacket was grabbed and he was lifted off his feet. He was forcibly distanced from the prince, losing his grip on his cloak. Spamton then swatted defensively at the air to try and locate his new attacker, letting out a garbled cry of surprise.

“We thought it was you, Spamton! Since when were you recruited by the lightners? You weren't here when our fountain was closed! We heard about what happened with the Neo robot!"

Swatchlings.

These brawny multicolored birds were always onto his schemes ever since his days of sneaking into the mansion’s basement. After his successful Keygen heist, they had doubled down on preparing the necessary traps in order to stop him from eventually reaching Neo. But now here they were again, after their world ended and their fountain was closed, probably having waited for him to do something rash the moment they spotted him among Castle Town’s crowd. Unluckily, he'd secured a pack of two to interrupt him.

“NICE TO [[See clearer with Clear.Eyes c.1997]] YOU AGAIN TOO, YOU STUPID [eyesores]!!1!” Spamton turned his head as much as he could to struggle against the swatchling that restrained him, and his head nearly glitched off his shoulders in his valiant attempt to escape. “NOTHING [[better? Bigger?]] TO DO A>R;0uND    HERE THAN PICK ON YOUR [local] [[homeless population]]??? NOT EVEN [catering fee] TO YOUR [[$%?&]]ING BOSS?!? HOW ABOUT YOU [lay off the creams] AND LET ME GO IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S [Good in town] FOR YOU!!!1!1! OR AT LEAST SET SOME [funds] ASIDE SO I CAN PUT THIS [[exclusiv beating]] ON YOUR TAB.”

“Prince Ralsei, is this crooked salesman harming you?” The other one not holding him said. “We should've known he'd try to weasel his way in with the TV darkners.”

WHAT?!

Oh, ‘weaseling in with the TV darkners’ was a new low. As if he'd ever, EVER even let that notion cross his mind! Spamton’s face burned bright red and he fumed, turning as much to the side as possible and kicking the swatchling in the chest to try and free himself.

“AS IF I’D [think highly of] THE [[association]] OF BEING IN THAT DAMN [Cathode]’S CREW AFTER WHAT HE DID TO ME!! YOU GOT SOME [[nervous? Take this supplemental pill]]!!!! TAKE IT BACK, RIGHT NOW!!”

“We’ll take care of him if you want us to.”

“A-actually, guys! He's been personally recruited into the lightner’s party.” The prince, Ralsei , spoke in a chipper tone, but also one of needed deescalation. “You don't have to worry about Mr. Spamton. He's with me!”

Both swatchlings gawked at that bit of information, their neck feathers fluffing up as they shared glances between each other and Spamton. The puppet, still irked by their latest insult, but feeding on their newfound shock after they realized they finally underestimated him, smiled wide and bared his teeth at the birds.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE [[those color samples]], HUH?! DIDN’T EXPECT [Your ol pal] C;0ulD BE >>     [swinging the club] IN THE [[Big Shot]] LEAGUES NOW COULD YOU?! EAHEAHEA!! YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR [multiple customization options for faces]!!!1!1 IF I WANTED, I COULD CONVINCE THE LIGHT>> n ;3rS TO HAVE YOU ALL [[scraping slime]] OFF THE [castle walls]!!! HEAHEAHAHAHA!! CONSID3R THAT YOUR [playment] FOR TREATING ME LIKE [[4 easy payments of 19.95]].” 

He could swear his jaw was unhinged to its limit with the volume he was laughing at. The only thing that would have made this upper hand more sweet is if he was still in possession of his Neo vessel. If only they could have seen him being its sole occupant… but he'd take this too. Just to see the birds eat their words.

The events in TV world were a lot to bear, but seeing that damn oversized cable box sway and swoon his way into being one of his friends’ allies made him want to hurl. He'd warned Kris that too-tall traitor was no good news. And yet, here he was, watching as his new friends had crowded around that cathode and repaired him. 

Yet they let Neo stay broken and inactive, smoking from all that expended energy. It remained an unmoving vessel, after his strings were cut. Yet, the true villain of his story, the one who cost him everything couldn't even fulfill his one and only narrative purpose enough to die properly. No, that lucky bastard just had to get a second chance, now didn't he?

For what was a brief moment in time, Spamton thought his own second chance was special. Now the market value on second chances would go down thanks to that TV!

There was nothing they could do about that. Neo couldn't operate without its strings. It was over.

“Really? After all you've done? After all the stress you put everyone through back home?” The swatchling bristled with irritation the longer Spamton laughed.

“Hey, at least he won't be your problem anymore-” Ralsei chimed with a sweet, comforting smile.

The swatchling that held him scowled and their beak twisted in disgust, and without so much of a warning, chucked him harshly off to the side, where he landed square on his face, his nose crunching against the castle floor. A plethora of voices sounded out, negatively responding to the sound of his plastic puppet body hitting the harsh stone. His quarrel with the swatchlings must have acquired a crowd, and one that had accumulated in a very short amount of time.

There was a gasp from the prince when it happened, but other than that he didn't hear anything from him and Spamton decided to start lifting himself up off the ground, his joints creaking with his movements. Looking down at the center of his face, he saw his nose was bent at a couple awkward angles, and one of the lenses in his glasses had popped out. His smile became strained and he ground his teeth as he squinted against the color difference of the missing lens. Was he bleeding? No, he couldn't bleed, but it felt like his nose was pulsing with pain nonetheless.

Was… everyone… looking at him?

Prying eyes… Prying [lies]...

He needed to get out of here.

Fast.

He couldn't see with the lens missing, but the array of blurry darkner eyes focused on him was enough to make him feel incredibly sick. He could feel his head breaking and glitching, making his balance wobbly at best as he pushed himself to his hands and knees, feeling the ground until his fingers made contact with what he could see now was the pink lens, and he slipped that into his jacket pocket to repair later. 

“...THAT… ALL YOU GOT?!” Spamton wouldn't take this lying down, and he shot to his feet as fast as he could, turning back towards the swatchlings, his brow furrowed and his smile stretching. “YOU CAN’T [take me out~ i’m lonely] THAT EASILY!!1!1!!! COME ON!   [[Turn up the juice! Turn up the juice!]] [Make sure it doesn't get on your shoese!]!!1!” His grin contorted into a grimace before he summoned a [[pipis]] in one hand. 

The swatchlings squawked as Spamton wasted no time in throwing it in their general direction, an array of miniature spamton-esc heads exploding out of the blue orb projectile. What was next was he was running out of the castle in the midst of instant commotion, completely abandoning the idea of getting a room where darkners that despised him would be aware of where he was. He'd find somewhere else to stay, resort to some old survival habits, just until he was able to return to the only spot he was truly useful anymore– in the lightner’s inventory. 

Spamton’s legs felt weak and stiff after running for so long and he doubled over, wrapping his arms around his midsection. He felt his heartbeat at the back of his throat as he then extended an arm out to the brick wall to steady himself. He'd ran far enough into the outskirts of town, out of the hustle and bustle of prying eyes, maybe as far to be near the cliff edges, so ideally there should be security here. Away from people that knew him and that had known him, away from friends and rivals…

Maybe he could just turn into the dealmaker here and wait to be picked up when the lightners did return. Time did pass by a lot faster when he wasn't vigilant and aware of absence and the pulsing of static that took up residency in his head. Away from…

the events of the lightner’s last adventure.

You aren't thinking about it.

…You aren't thinking about him.

… 

Oh for the love of [Heaven], what have you done now?

It was encroaching, the doubt and anguish of recent events. If he only held his tongue, he'd have a room to stay in- away from other darkners and with at least one person who cared about him. 

No, the prince didn't care for or about him, but rather what would happen if Kris didn't get the dealmaker back in their inventory where it belonged. How would that disrupt the narrative, now that he's inserted himself into it against his better judgement. If he couldn't be an angel, he might as well be on the side of freedom, he supposed.

He couldn't do that while trapped here, though. Hell, he'd never hear the end of this from the clown. The imp's inane giggling already ricocheted through his mind and he trailed a hand down his face, already imagining how that conversation would go when he returned. 

...If he returned. 

Spamton pressed his head against the building behind him, feeling the sharp pain start to circulate at the base of his neck with the pressure. His hand slid up the wall and he then collapsed on his knees, where he rested his temple against the brick, pressing his head as close at it could physically go. He slouched, near curling into himself once again as he racked his brain to think of a plan. That's what he was good at. Making plans. Improvising. Improving. Multiplying. 

Disappearing.

…

…Maybe he could even glitch into the wall and take a break from being in his shape for awhile, without being an object and getting relocated by some unknowing darkner. The puppet had no clue what his next turn of events were. Should he go back when the swatchlings weren't around? Where it was safe to apologize?

Okay, it was time to do something, actually.

A little [Press F1 for help] angel spell later, then failed attempts to restructure his crooked nose, then popping his missing lens back into his glasses frame, he almost felt like a million dollar [Kromer] investment. He'd scour the town and find the best place to lay low for awhile, at least if he didn't have any more interruptions–

“Oh, look at that! I thought that was you. I knew I was going in the right direction.”

That

…

…voice.

In trying to decide what to do next, he'd barely noticed the footsteps that had approached him just then, and the darkner standing just feet away.

Spamton looked up, way up , to see a slightly flickering off-color white screen looking down at him. The figure towered over him, but the face on the screen looked relaxed and curious as he seemed to survey him. It looked as though one of his antennas was bandaged up and his screen had taken some slight color damage. That could easily be traced to the events from earlier with his rather harsh fall from grace.

…

…I hope he felt every second of that.

I hope it hurt. 

I hope you felt every millisecond of despair.

I hope you felt hopeless and like nothing would ever be right for you ever again.

I hope it felt like you lost.

…

Why wouldn't I wish that upon you?

…

Tenna.

“You're that one… little guy? From earlier? No hard feelings about the foam, right?” He said with a slight smile. “Was just surprised to see something like, well, you! I didn't think we'd get darkners like you in the dark world. And trust me, I kept tabs on all my employees.”

Spamton felt his eyes narrow and brow furrow in contempt, as his puppet-like grin twisted itself into a malicious scowl. He didn't say anything back, just accepting that, yes, this was making his day actively worse. Unbearable, even.

Tenna’s smile became unsteady at the lack of response. “...Are you okay? Those newfangled internet darkners can be quite rough. Trust me, I've dealt with my fair share of them back in my day. We can fix you right up if that swatchling threw you down too hard.”

His scowl grew in rage, and he felt his face start to burn with that familiar red.

Tenna then stopped talking again, frowning before his smile suddenly returned, even brighter than before. “Uhm… hey! Fresh from the juice! Fresh from the juice! Make sure you don't get it on your shoes!” He sing-songed, wagging his fingers slightly to the short tune as he stepped closer.

…

What?

“...WHAT?”

“I… haha, heard you say that to those swatchlings. I'm surprised anyone else has ever heard of it. It means you watched my shows!”

I didn't only watch them. I lived them. 

We lived it.

...

I was your star. Don't you remember me?

...

“I used to love that jingle back in the day. I used to broadcast it all the time between airings–”

“GET THE [[$&%#]] AWAY FROM ME.”

Tenna’s smile dropped once more and he lowered himself down to a crouching position. “Okay, look, you're still mad about the foam, which I get. I had no clue before now you were another dedicated viewer. Look at me, taking the chance to tank my own ratings on purpose! It won't happen again.”

Seeing him crouch to his level had Spamton rocket up to his feet. He would not be talked down to by him of all people.

“I DON’T [[cared]] WHAT I’M [mad deals! Mad bargains] ABOUT. I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU. I’M AL;re&4DDY  [sinply having] A [[$&?@]] DAY EVEN WITHOUT [basking in the displeasure] OF YOUR DAMN FACE.”

He saw Tenna’s brow crinkle in annoyance at that comment, but he managed a grin. “Wow, okay, not too much of a fan, are you? I'm just trying to make up for my actions earlier. Maybe show you just a hint of compassion? You looked like you needed it, and what a great re-introduction this would be if I helped you out, right?”

That had him seeing red.

What a selfish piece of shit.

“FFFF[&$%#] YOU, TENNA!! TAKE A [with a hint of lemon] AND LEAVE ME THE [&$@%] ALONE. I DON’T NEED ANYTHING [[from]] YOU, CONS1;dd3rRING         YOU’D TAKE IT ALL FROM ME ANYWAY! LAST TIME I TRUSTED A [tender and compassionate] FROM YOU, I GOT [[@&?%ED]] OVER!”

“What are you talking about?” Tenna grit his teeth, actively glaring now. “So you've heard of me. I'm not surprised by that, but I've taken nothing from you. I don't even know who you are-!”

“OH DON’T [give it to me straight, doc] THAT [showmanshit], YOU DAMN [[Cathode]]!! I THINK YOU DO.” Spamton’s sneer was manic– knowing.

“ YOU CERTAINLY KNEW WHO I WAS AS YOU [Drag it out back] MY NAME THROUGH THE [[spa mud baths]] IN FRONT OF THE      L;>1 !GHT    Tn3RS!! WHAT WAS [That] ABOUT?! YOU COULDN’T WAIT TO MAKE ME [take a looksee] EVEN WORSE IN FRONT OF MY NEW [Friend(s)]?! I’M A [[Big Shot Autos! Take a Ride around Ttt;>]], AND YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE THE [a bad guy] JUST BECAUSE THINGS WEREN’T WORKING OUT SO WELL FOR YOU. ISN’T THAT HOW IT IS???!?”

Tenna blanched, his screen actively flickering as his mouth gaped open and his non-bandaged antenna went limp. His expression had fallen at the mention of Spamton’s old infamous ad from back in their shared days… the one they'd advertised together.

“What… did you say?”

“THINGS DIDN’T [worked] OUT SO WELL 4 [yu]. ITS ABOUT TIME YOU GOT THE [[shortest of the bunch]] END OF THE STICK, ISNT IT?!”

“No, not that. Go back. Big shot autos. Say it again.”

Fuck.

…

No.

No, I don't think I will.

I'm thinking about them, aren't I? I'm thinking about… him.

Shut up with the ads!

I don't want to do this anymore!

“n;n#NO. I DON’T OWE YOU A DAMN THING. YOU [heard it right here, folks!] ALREADY. YOU DON’T DESERVE [repeats]. YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM?! THEN GET [lost in the sauce] AND SCRAM!!! I’VE HEARD ENOUGH FROM [if you're still talking, then who's-]–”

His hands slammed themselves over his mouth, his teeth closing in a sharp ‘clunk’.

Enough with these godforsaken ads already!

“If you're still talking, then who’s insuring the Cungadero?” Tenna near whispered, his antenna now perfectly straight in pure interest and awe.

Shut. UP.

“...[[and make it a Hot Rod!]].”

Spamton couldn't help but let that last inclusion slip, further cementing in Tenna’s suspicions on who the other darkner infront of his was.  

Or rather, used to be.

“That one… never got to air. Only he would know that one. Did you know him? Or...”

Spamton didn't say anything back to that, smoothing back his hair nervously. Tenna studied him, appearing to be squinting, as if he couldn't believe what he saw in front of him.

The CRT scooted closer, and even with the instinct to take as many steps away from the larger darkner as possible, the salesman stood his ground, not wanting to appear weak or cowardly, but instead determined to really tell him to go fuck himself after all these years apart. They were so close, Spamton felt their noses graze and could practically taste the television fuzz emanating off the other’s screen. He clenched his teeth with force as he stared upward into that screen, maintaining his demeanor in the face of looking at his past mistakes head on, observing Tenna’s pinched brow but also his own reflection looking back at him. 

This is what his old business partner wasn't able to recognize. This is the form that now defined him.

“Is it you, Spamton?”

The puppet didn't respond immediately, and he felt, with great regret and embarrassment, a small glitch glimmer past his face, before shrugging it off entirely.

“[Greetings], [[Anything You See On TV]]!!! HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN A [couple millennium]!!”

Chapter Text

Well, he knew one thing for sure.

That isn't right.

“...No. You're not him,” Tenna’s brow pinched in disappointment. “He doesn't look like tha- he… He doesn't look like you.”

“WHAT?!!?!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! WE’RE [[talk it up]] ABOUT THE SAME [hot stud], RIGHT?!” The weird puppet creature replied, the corner of his smile twitching. Tenna backed away, sitting on his heels, when the thought crossed his mind that this thing could potentially lunge at him. It looked unstable enough. “THAT [[Big Shot of the week]]!!! SP              SPAMTON    G. [Spamton]!!”

“I don't mean anything by it. You're just not him. He doesn't look like you, or talk like you. I don't know how you're able to repeat our advertisements, but maybe you're some–!?” Tenna gestured in disbelief in the air with his hands before pushing on his knee to stand up. “I don't know? One of those apps I just learned somehow exists? An off-brand addison mannequin? With preinstalled voice clips? Did they record something on you? Whatever those cyber darkners are doing nowadays-”

“ARE YOU [[serious as a heart attack]]?! OFF-BRAND?!” 

His voice broke off into a static snap, and his brow furrowed, first, in obvious frustration, but then it crinkled in what only could be conveyed as hurt. Tenna had to admit, whoever designed this little guy had to have intentionally made him a decent actor, which he could ultimately respect. Not too unusual for something that could record voice clips.

Tenna opened his mouth to respond, but as if the smaller darkner wanted to deliberately stop him from asking anything else, he was cut off with more of that grating voice. 

“I CAN [handil] BEING CALLED [[Rat infestations]], O-OR [criatura], BUT OFF-BRAND?!” He gripped his hair, strands wrapping around segmented fingers. “I’VE DONE [everything] TO [[keep your boat afloat]] EVEN A;aFTER EVERYTHING WENT TO [%#$&]! YOU CAN’T SAY THAT TO ME. NOT AFTER WHAT. YOU. DID.”

“I didn't… I didn't do anything to you. Wait, no, I apologized for what I did!” Tenna started taking small steps away, and for some reason when he did, the smaller one looked alarmed that he was even walking away. “I'm just trying to figure out what you are! And you won't tell me!”

“I DID! I’M [[Number1RatedSalesman1997]]! DEFINITELY NOT AN [free applications for your smart device]. AND [Defiantly] NOT ONE OF THOSE [[We Are Addisons! All We Do Is Advertise]]’S MANNEQUINS.”

Tenna paused and bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to argue a fact that was decidedly not true. He didn't understand why he was being lied to. To his face. Did this thing catch wind of… Tenna’s connection to him? Maybe it saw a poster or two, despite Tenna being insistent and cautionary that all mention and merchandise of the Big Shot was stored away, eventually to disappear when his fountain was closed. Perhaps it recorded a little too much and thought it was the same salesman that appeared on the commercials. What if it didn't know?

Addisons… that's what he said he was before Mike’s involvement. Although… Tenna had only gotten limited information out of him while sober. Every other complaint about the advertisements had the mailman throwing expensive bottles over the balcony of his room in the mansion, watching them shatter on the pavement below or into neighboring buildings. There was a viciousness in how he acted when those salesmen came up in conversation, and Spamton was trying so desperately to erase his past. No doubt there were a few of those roaming around Castle Town as it was. Maybe if he found one? He'd be able to? Talk to them about whatever this was? 

As for this puppet, It kind of looked like an Addison, but just barely passing a threshold with its long, pointed nose. However, by those standards, Tenna could have been an addison himself, so he decided to shelve the thought entirely. No, Addisons were a dime a dozen, completely similar in both design and personality. Spamton had stood out from the rest, he was unique, not just due to his stunted Addison structure, but it was his boisterous showmanship of a personality that fell out of the addisons' script.

It wasn't this.

“...YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME. FINE.” It scowled, visibly gritting its oversized, blocky teeth. “CAN I [say] SOMETHING THEN?”

“You've said a lot already.”

“JUST LET ME [talk the talk], YOU [Cantankerous Cathode]!!” The puppet stomped forward, allowing Tenna a few more steps back. “I WON’T [pressure] YOU MORE. [[Realistate]]ISTICALLY SPEAKING, YOU MEAN [$&%#] TO ME. BUT–” 

Tenna observed as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm his nerves, as if he was truly looking deep for the right thing to say.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO              . YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO [colored dyes] AND NOT. COME BACK. AND I SHOULD. HAVE. TOLD. YOU. BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW YOU STILL. CARED. ABOUT.” The small darkner clenched its fists at its sides. “I DON’T [knew] HOW THAT [Little Sponge] WAS [[abled to]]... [ch]- CHANGE. THE–”

A short-circuited cry suddenly ripped out of the smaller one’s fried vocal cords and its head contorted into a bunch of scattered pixels, heavily glitching, changing size and shape as the little program held onto what Tenna assumed was the sides of its face.

It wasn't particularly pleasant to witness, if anything the television darkner could have booked it in the opposite direction while this thing was distracted, but from the looks of it, it was like witnessing a car crash that he could not divert his attention from. It was far too grisly and unusual.

This darkner was… broken. It was an extreme case, by the looks of it. He appeared as if he was infected by something from the mailman’s dark world, rather than TV world. Tenna had only seen something similar one time, as he led him around the Queen’s mansion, introducing him proudly and openly to his peers as his business partner. The two had passed by an infirmary, where an ambyu-lance was treating another that was lightly glitching and corrupted by some sort of virus.

However, as they made their rounds back at the end of the day, the infected darkner was nowhere to be seen, and the hospital space was empty, as if treatment was that readily available and quick acting.

“YOU CAN’T [[These censors are going to kill me, folks]]...” It muttered through its clenched teeth. “COME ON. LET ME TALK. I HAVE NOTHING TO [splurge]. WHAT’S THE [Risky dealings] IN GETTING SOME [Final Words?] OUT BEFORE I WRAP THIS [miscommunication] UP, HUH?”

It looked to Tenna like he was talking to himself after the glitching spree subsided, but there was another instance of surprise, when it had perfectly replicated the voice of the CRT, as if he were broadcasting live on his show, filtered through the crisp feedback of a microphone. Tenna had jumped at the vocal intrusion, his screen flickering in shock.

“See?! Like that? How do you do that?”

It turned to look back up at him, its expression unreadable under its dual-colored mirrored lenses. “DOES IT MATTER? NO. IT DOESN’T.” The doll-like thing sighed, then rubbed its forehead, putting pressure at its temple until it dragged its hand down its face. 

“LOOK, CAN’T SAY I DIDN’T [[tryed]]. ACTUILY, IT’S [better than the leading brands] THIS WAY. LESS [#%!$] I HAVE TO [[worried]] ABOUT,” He grumbled. “...HAVE A [good life], TENNA. [Heaven] KNOWS YOU WOULDN’T BE [[cashing in those prenimum rewards]] OTHERWISE IF IT WASN’T FOR KRIS. AND YOUR [traitoris] [[camera crew]].”

The puppet then attempted a chuckle, mockingly, as he showed off all of his teeth. There was an air of resentment behind the expression, and it was uncanny enough that Tenna felt cold just standing above him.

“YOU WERE ALWAYS THE LUCKIER [[Bastard]] OUT OF THE TWO OF US ANYWAY.”

As he started to walk away, Tenna kept him in his sights, racking his electron circuits about what exactly this creature was with all this new information. No, he couldn't let it end like that.

“Well now I know you're not him!” Tenna spat. What was he doing patronizing this little busted program? He'd be saving so much more of his energy just letting the buggy thing go. But yet, he felt he needed answers at this point. How? How did it know about him? About Kris? How was it able to perfectly capture ads and recordings like that? It didn't appear to be able to communicate too well, with the aforementioned recordings probably overloading whatever it had to accumulate and store data, but what it could get across…

“Spamton was always the Big Shot out of the two of us. He knew a thing or two about luck and how to get it. Saying otherwise is just lying to make him look better. And oooh, trust me. He doesn't deserve anything like that.”

That got the smaller darkner to look back over his shoulder, near appalled at Tenna’s words, with the way his smile wavered and twitched. Another glitch broke apart half of his face, and he looked furious.

“Just tell me what you are,” Tenna continued. “Are you from my dark world? Cyber City? How are you able to-”

“HOLD ON, [[Hot Shot]]. WHAT. DO YOU THINK. HAPPENED TO. HIM?”

“Spamton?”

The glitchy darkner nodded slowly. Too slowly.

…Knew it.

I knew you weren't him.

I'm not falling for a scam of yours again, Big Shot. Did you make this thing? Recruit it to get me off your trail? If you did, why'd you make it look like that?

“...He left. Mike got quiet about him. Apparently he went onto bigger and better things after abandoning our brand, our formula, our work together. No, he's too busy with the new and improved technology like email.” 

He couldn't hide his petty, sarcastic tone. He never could when his abandonment came up in conversation.

“SO YOU [don't know] WHERE HE IS?”

“Obviously not, not even when my world came crashing down! I haven't seen that selfish salesman since! Which is why it's insulting you start reciting our advertisements, OUR brand, like some sort of answering machine! I want to know who put you up to this! Was it to torture me? Rub it in that I'm worse off than he is?!”

The puppet hesitated, his menacing smile falling just slightly.

“Well?! You're lying to me, and I caught you in it, so now you owe me answers.”

“I’D [says] WE’RE EVEN, THEN. AFTER YOU [[spray on tan! No skin scarring!]] ME WITH [insulation].”

Spray on…?

Oh, this is about that foam again!

It's really getting difficult to understand him. How does anybody understand him? Does anybody even know him here? It seemed like those swatchlings just wanted to throw him out.

I want to ask him if he can stop with the advertisements, but… seeing as he's still glitching, maybe he CAN’T turn them off.

“OKAY. WELL, [You Win! Congratulitations!]. [[Smart_Cookies]], YOU!!!1!1! YOU’RE R1IGHT. I’M NOT HIM. BUT I KNOW WHERE YOU CAN [[find local eateries in your area]] OUT WHERE HE IS. I WANT SOMETHING IN [returns next aisle over], THOUGH. DON’T [Think it] YOU’RE GETTING A [[all expenses paid]] FOR NOTHING. IT’LL BE OUR [Specil] DEAL .”

“What do you want? I hope you know I'm out of a job or purpose at this point. I'm getting a new home from the lightners but-”

“YEAH YEAH THATS [grate]. [[Happier Days]] FOR YOU. ANYWAY,” The puppet clasped its hands together and walked back over to him. “YOU HAVE A [[room services]] IN THAT [community]. I NEED SOMEWHERE TO [[lay low]]. NOT TOO MANY CYBER FR3AKS ARE TOO [[25% Peachy, 75% Keen]] IN SEEING A [malfunctioning service tower] LIKE MYSELF ON THE DAY-2-DAY. GET IT???”

“It makes sense. What's even wrong with you? Why won't you get treated? I know they do antivi–”

“[[Permanent Smells in your shorts? Try Our New]]- P-PERMANENT. CAN’T GET RID. OF IT. CAN YOU [stayed] ON TOPIC?? OR IS SOMEONE FLIPPING THROUGH YOUR CHANNELS AT [[Rapid Pace!]]??”

Tenna clammed up after that one.

He didn't understand cyber viruses very well, or much of Cyber World for that matter. But usually for cyber darkners viruses… went away. Hell, they had darkners specifically made to cure them.

This little dealmaker was something else. No wonder he had fought the swatchlings.What if they were trying to get rid of him? Maybe before he could infect others?

“GOOD. SO YOU LET ME [[hide relative funds]] AND YOU GET TO KNOW ALL ABOUT HOW I KNOW ALL YOUR [filthy] SECRETS AND [[past VCR recordings]]. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO I AM?! THAT’S RESERVED FOR [high paying subscribers]”

“You're going to tell me where Spamton is.”

“[[Top 10 Affirmations to get your partner to]]-... I MEAN. YES. THATS A [guarenttee] REALER THAN [[100% Polyester]] READY TO BE [thrown into the ocean]! ALTHOUGH, YOU WERE [right on the money]. HE’S TOO [[Big]] NOW TO BOTHER WITH [[small shots]] AROUND HERE.”

Tenna’s face twisted in disgust.

Happy you got what you wanted, Big Shot. It's fitting for you, don't get me wrong.

“...Is that why you're here? Trying to claim to be him?”

“EAHEAHEAHAHA;%#hHEAHA!1!  !1!” It laughed, its bottom jaw briefly glitching out of place. “I CAN’T [get] ANYTHING PAST YOU, CAN I?? YOU’RE TOO [[on the nose]]. MAY AS WELL BENEFIT FROM A [Success_Story] WHILE I CAN. ffFUNNY. ENOUGH. I HAVE. OTHERS. FOOLED. LIKE      [Easels]. BUT ISN’T THAT [multicolored slob] JUST THE MOST [[Gullible on the ceiling]]?!”

Easels? Who's Easels?

Do I know someone named Easels here?

Who would fall for this?

That laugh wasn't his either. It was loud, yes, but too unhinged.

“Well I know actors and entertainers when I see them! Why wouldn't I?” Tenna laughed in return. “You could have been convincing, especially with that production cut of Big Shot Autos. Maybe I should get you some sort of contract when I return to TV Time.”

The creature’s brow crinkled at the mention of the show, and his eye twitched, but he maintained a quiet grin.

“Who would I be making the contract out to? Surely even a recording program has a name.”

“THE NAME’S [[S#%;_ >>   0^^<  n G.//– ]]-” A vicious error scratch came out of its voicebox and he shut its jaw manually, before chuckling and seemingly gathering himself, smoothing back his hair and waiting for the static to somewhat clear from his chuckles. “IN MY TIME, I HAVE [becomed]  [Better than the leading Brands] AND [The First Link In the Search Results]. BUT LET’S [summarize] THIS [1-800-####]. YOU CAN CALL ME… NEO.”

“Neo, huh?”

“DON’T [[Wear those shoes with those socks]] IT OUT. IT’S A [[smooth taste you'll never forget]]!!1!1! S.    NEO. CATCHY, ISN’T IT? HAS A LITTLE [it's ringing…] IN THE NAME?”

‘Out with the classics! We’ll make them Neo!’

Great, so it's one of those… newer programs. Obviously it hasn't had the best luck with how it's been glitching. Just goes to show New doesn't always mean better.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK, [Boss man]?? YOU HAVE A [penchant] FOR ALL THINGS NEW AND IMPROVED, RIGHT? OR ARE YOU STILL ON THOSE [classics you've come to expect]?? WHO’D PASS UP A [Deal] LIKE THIS? [Exclusiv] INTEL OF THE MOST [[famis]] [Big Shot] IN CYBER CITY, FOR JUST A PLACE TO [crash.exe] TO [esc] FROM SOME NO-GOOD [[cyber bullies]].”

“Depends. How long would you be staying? I'm in a time crunch and I can't accept responsibility for any darkners before I get my big debut.”

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT [Responsibilities include:    ]?!? NO! IT’S NOT LIKE [[you got the wrooong idea, mister]]!! YOU WANT TO KNOW MY [situation]? I’M IN A BIT OF A [[deep end]] RIGHT NOW. A LIGH_t ;nER    may HAVE [[Checked the Lost and Found]]- LOST. ME.”

Neo then gestured and fiddled with his hands as he started to pace. “THEY’RE PROBABLY LOOKING [Right Now!]. [Freaking] OUT, CALLING THE [Fire] DEPARTMENT, CALLING THE [Flyer] DEPARTMENT, CALLING THE [[Fryer]] DEPARTMENT, JUST TO FIND THEIR LOST [[marketing subscription]]! AND YOU’RE THE ONE [lucky contender] WHO HAS NO [[predetermined biases]] TO HELP ME OUT.”

“Wait, a lightner?” Tenna’s face lit up. 

“I THOUGHT THAT WAS [obvious key note details].” 

Wait a second…

Come to think of it…

Tenna’s screen flickered in a contemplative static as he thought about the events from the day prior. Susie, with her TV Time-branded Wafeguard defensive armor, had him practically pleading Mike to keep her in the center shot for Round 2, as that equipment would be graciously accepted by the sponsors. The party of heroes had even bought Ralsei a new scarf from the gift shop, certainly to appeal to those cameras as well as get favor from the audience. Finally, some heroes that respected the art of showbiz.

However… Kris…

Wore some multicolored pink and yellow glasses. It was certainly a statement, and one that surprisingly racked up a lot of audience engagement!

Though they were the same ones this… Neo darkner wore in front of him right now.

“YOU know the lightners! Oh well, this changes things! That's right, Kris was wearing your glasses earlier. The audience seemed to get a kick out of them as well!”

“THEY WERE MY [[charidy gifts below $15]] TO THEM, YEAH.” The puppet stopped his pacing and brushed back his hair. “THEY’RE GOING TO [need them]. FOR LATER [[Top 10 Challenges]].”

“I was worried, there was a thought that crossed my mind that continuously watching me would have had them go blind!” Tenna laughed. “But hey, that's the price for watching some good quality television. Well, then we have to get you back, right? Get those glasses back where they're supposed to be!”

That seemed to make Neo wilt just slightly, but enough to be noticeable. 

“What do you think? And then maybe you could give me some good feedback with them? I… ahaha, hadn't left them with the best impression!" Tenna fiddled with his hands, remembering the... oh god, the Doom Board. The pipes... Along with how he acted in their final round. The thought made him instinctively lose at least half a foot in his height. "But they're so kind and courteous even for a TV like me on a more rustic end.”

“...WHY NOT? IT’S THE [least] I CAN DO. THEN I’LL BE OUT OF YOUR [[Limited Time Deals]] AND BACK ON THE [road] IF NOT [[scooped up]]. I PR0m1sE! YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, I’M AN [HonestMan].”

“It sounds fair to me. Shake on it, then?” Tenna walked towards him and extended his hand, shrinking himself just enough to not be so unbearably and unfairly high to where the smaller darkner would have had to reach. Even with this accommodation, he looked pestered, yet still shook to seal their deal, even if he could only get a few of Tenna's fingers in the handshake. Even his hands were odd, Tenna noticed. Segmented and ball-jointed, like a stunted doll.

“Great, let's get you settled in. I'd be excited if I was you, a whole backstage pass, or temporary backstage pass. I'll get you a real one one of these days.”

“SO THIS IS M;mY [8 Sta_r Hotel]!!”

“Or this is my room that Ralsei lent me until Susie finds someone in the town that wants a new television. But you can hide here for the time being.”

Tenna had led the smaller-than-average darkner back the way they'd both came, towards the castle. Neo didn't make much conversation, if any at all, continuously looking around at his surroundings with darting eyes that looked more frantic than merely observant. At least he was able to keep up a relatively fast pace, despite the great difference in their heights.

Tenna had thought to accommodate for Neo’s speed, not wanting to tire him out, but decided against it when he had started walking faster than even the TV darkner who stood several feet over him. Overall, when not jumpscaring him in his own private room in TV world, this uncanny little puppet was quite the character.

He suspected as such when he had seen him stand off against those swatchlings. It was right after Tenna was conversing with a pippins, who asked about how the bandages on his arms were holding up, when they all turned around after they collectively heard it. An eerie, unhinged laughter that went on for far too long, coming from someone he'd only seen one other time in his life. Tenna could easily survey over the crowd of other TV world onlookers that were captivated by the scene, and cringed just as unanimously when the puppet hit the stone flooring with a loud ‘crunch!’. That swatchling hadn't held back really letting him have it, as if they had done that a million times before and was efficiently practiced in the art of hurtling smaller darkners onto the ground. 

Was he getting ideas for a new minigame with this? No. No, definitely not. No. Maybe. Wait, no. That was a crazy idea.

But then…

‘ COME ON! [[Turn up the juice! Turn up the juice!]] [Make sure it doesn't get on your shoese!]!’

He knew that voice. That jingle. Even if the lyrics were wrong, there was one other darkner he knew who would sing it that way…

Or at least the second voice that sounded out. How could one darkner be in possession of more than one voice?

Standing infront of the vanity, playing the commercials on his screen as he prepared himself for a show, tying his tie and brushing down his coat as he hummed along. From the other room…

“Hey, Ant! Turn it up, you know I like that one!”

He felt his breath stop, and heard the electricity buzzing in his screen as the world fizzled out and closed in, tunneling around that little monochrome darker. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else besides getting to him and-

Oh. He was running away.

…He was running away?!

Tenna had missed what happened, surprised and now on high alert as the scene descended into chaos. The cornered puppet-like thing had thrown something at his attackers and booked it out of the castle, weaving through the legs of those around him in an attempt to escape. 

There was more difficulty fighting the crowd on Tenna’s end, but it was at least achievable, and he only briefly caught a glance at the swatchling, who was the victim of the attack. The other swatchling who was with them was patting their face as they laid on the ground, in the effort to remove…? Smaller versions? Of the monochrome darkner? Tenna was unsure, but was sure of one thing- that attack had definitely knocked the swatchling unconscious. Good thing the prince was knelt down and casting some healing magic.

Tenna had then ran off in the direction where he saw the little one scamper off to.

When he found him… he wanted to expect the best.

But, even if he took his voice,

this new darkner was nothing like the one that left him so long ago. The differences were too uncanny and vast, and then its insultingly cheap attempt to double down on it?! Tenna felt insulted for someone he never wanted to see again. For someone he'd hoped was better off now that he left Tenna to fall into irrelevancy. 

It hurt for this New darkner to confirm his suspicions. That Spamton was better off now, had made it Big, even without him.

…

Good for him. I don't need him. I have…! Whatever this thing is.

Speaking of which. Stay on topic, show him around. That's what a good host does.

The room was modeled loosely after the green rooms in Tv World, complete with a long centerpiece of a bright red couch, a coffee table for relaxation, as well as a kitchen with an island. There was even a bedroom, complete with a bed to accommodate larger darkners, even at Tenna’s insistence he could be any size so as to not cause the lightners too much grief in recruiting him. After all, they were doing so much already with scouting out a new home for him when Toriel eventually settled on the idea to get rid of him. 

He trusted Susie after what she said in finding him a new home, just so TV Time wouldn't have to come to a complete end. Sure, it would be different now, but after his fall from earlier, coupled with the loss of the camaraderie in his studio employees, then trying to loop the three of them into an endless spiral of nonstop games against their will was… not the best plan to continue the show. Maybe, if his efforts weren't enough, having more darkners around here that could put in a good word for him would help if all else failed.

Castle Town was nice and all, but he desperately missed the glamor and the glory of the performance. Every second not centered in a spotlight was driving him up a wall, and the little mailman’s ads being repeated by a darkner as different and uncanny as this was not doing him any favors. What was the harm? In just… taking him under his watch for a few days, if that? This wouldn't be permanent, by any means. His retirement from entertainment would not. be. permanent.

Neo waltzed into Tenna’s room like he owned the place, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. He let out a steady whistle as he looked around. “FANCY [crib]. PE;rFECT FOR A [[I got your Big Shot Right Here]] JUST HAPPENING TO [crash and burn].”

To the television’s dismay, he saw Neo run and leap into his bed, rummaging up the covers and crossing one leg over another as he laid on his back. 

“WHAT A [High Life]!! WHY WOULD YOU EVER WANT TO [[belonged]] TO A L;1gHT>n3R EVER AGAIN WHEN [this] IS THE [[luxerie bath towels]] YOUr PROVIDED WITH??”

Tenna cringed from the the smaller darkner’s statement before he meandered over to the bed and sat on the foot of it, folding his hands over his lap. “To be entertainment, after bringing so much joy to those around you while their troubles just melt away when focused on you? I don't think I want anything more. That's classic television! Also, well, my time ran up, I guess.” 

Tenna slouched, leaning over his knees as he interlocked his fingers. “I can't change with the times, but someone is out there for me. I have a second chance to be something, and to be someone. I can put all my troubles aside and just know there's hope for relevancy again.”

The puppet was quiet, and Tenna turned his head to face him only to see he was glaring in his direction. When Neo caught his gaze, the expression changed back as if on a dime to that manic smile that unnerved Tenna so much.

“EAHAHEAHEA! WOW, LOOK AT YOU AND THE [second chances]. AND ALREADY A LINED UP [[Promotion]]? LOOKS LIKE THE REST OF US CAN’T [[win 'em all]]. ISN’T. THAT. GOOD. FOR. YOU.”

What's with that tone?

“And I'd like to keep it that way. So I have some rules if you're going to hide here. You can follow rules, can't you?”

The puppet narrowed his eyes. “WHAT? AND MISS POTENTIAL [flub up cuts] IN THE [[Blooper Reels]]?? OF COURSE I CAN. DEPENDS ON WHO’S [Making] THEM. WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND?”

“If you step out, we don't know each other. Just affiliation with you could tank my ratings-”

“EAHAEAHA–! YOU DON’T [[Have Access To]] THOSE ANYMORE. YOU LOST IT WHEN YOU [[got kicked to the curb]]. HATE TO BE THE [daily reminders].”

Tenna gripped his pant leg in one hand and his screen flickered with an angry static. “I know that. I meant if I'm seen with a corrupted- well, whatever you are, my reputation could take a hit!”

“OKAY, [okay], I HEAR YA [is this thing on?]. WHAT ELSE, [Rule maker]??”

“Don't touch anything, nothing here is yours. Everything here are things that I've worked for and achieved, and I would appreciate it if you didn't mess around with any of it.”

“WELL AREN’T YOU THE MOST THOUGHTFUL  [[Gameshow Host]] WHO EVER [breathed]? YOU’RE MAKING ME [envy] AND [[Sweetly reminisce]] MY [humble abode] AT THE BOTTOM OF A GARBAGE CAN.”

What?

“Wait, a garbage can?”

The little one scoffed and rolled his head back into the pillow. “AT LEAST THIS PLACE HAS A [[quality mattress]].”

That was going to be my next one, that you're sleeping on the couch. 

“Hold on. Why would the lightners have you sleep in a garbage can?”

“THEY DIDN’T. THEY [found me] THAT WAY. IT WOULDA HAPPENED TO [you] TOO IF IT WASN’T FOR THEM BEING SO [[Genoris acts of kindness]]. I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOUR LITTLE FALL. WHO KNOWS WHO COULD HAVE [[bash your TV with a battering ram]]!!!1! SOME [customers] ARE UNFRIENDLY WITH THEIR [[Unwanted merchandise]].”

The image that spawned was nightmarish, and had Tenna feel a cold sweat on his arms. A discarded CRT TV, nestled atop a mountain of other trash and tossed tech from the old days. Trails of VCR tape and old reels. Suddenly he became very conscious of the bandaging on his antenna and his arms.

“You don't know that for sure. You don't.”

Neo snickered and glanced at him cruelly, only as his light snickers descended into quiet cackles. As soon as he did, another glitch took over his head and his laughter cut itself off, a skipping static screech replacing it as he sunk his fingers into his scalp. He rolled over, facing away from the television darkner as he curled into himself. Tenna froze and stood, facing toward the glitching mess and took a couple steps back out of surprise for how sudden the episode was.

When it stopped, it did so abruptly, and the puppet was breathing in rasps, seemingly trying to catch his breath. 

“Are… you-”

“I’;Mm FINE. IGNORE IT.” The smaller darkner grumbled. “JUST A [[Unwanted commercial]] MAKING ITS WAY [to broadcast]. NOT MEANT TO BE [[Shown Live on the Air]].”

Tenna had… no clue what that latter part meant.

“Can I get you anything?” He said with a very much strained smile. He didn't want to do anything he didn't have to, especially after being startled by something like that. He felt like he was missing something with that interaction, to top it off.

Neo hesitated before slightly turning back to look over his shoulder at him. “...DO YOU HAVE ANY [[sweet eats]]?? I HAVEN’T HAD [nourishment] SINCE        .”

Since when?

Tenna waited for an answer that obviously, after a brief waiting period, he was never going to get.

“I do. Just some darkburgers I picked up when exploring the town. Not exactly the best camera ready meals, but I do cook in my spare time. Wait here.”

Tenna turned to leave the bedroom, but the puppet stayed laying down, returning his attention to the opposite wall without another word.

Chapter Text

This wasn't in the plan.

…

At all.

This wasn't even in an alternative write-up for the plan! This was so far removed from the plan that Spamton thought he might get lost trying to go back and look for the original plan!

But what else could he do?

He didn't intend nor want nor favor the idea of being in this place, with this darkner.

Who had no idea who he was.

The thought stung and a vague, silent grief rippled through him as he thought about it more. Sure, he looked different than how he appeared in his prime, before his…

Spamton glanced at his hands in front of him and decided to draw them close to his midsection to keep them out of his line of sight.

Incident.

That was an obvious given, like a quiz on a show that asked contestants if the sky was blue before it got down to the nitty gritty. But… Tenna couldn't even tell he was the same as before with anything else? His mannerisms, his personality, how he held himself, was that all unlike what he was before? How far did he separate himself from the shining star in their winning formula? Tenna hadn't seemed to have a problem with maintaining it, with how he dressed to how he hosted. If anything, he was unchanged, not one memory Spamton had would be out of place if the Tenna he saw last night was replaced with the one from two decades ago.

Meanwhile…

Why did he let the detail about the dumpster slip? Maybe he just wanted to vent, to rub it in, extract that sweet remorse and regret from the television darker so that maybe, maybe he could see how much he'd suffered because of what. he. did. This was hollow, though. There was no merit behind it whatsoever.

Because Tenna was insistent he wasn't who he said he was. In a way, he had an opportunity most never do: to reinvent himself to a person he shared space in the limelight with, and he chose to bring up the dumpster of all places?! He couldn't shape Neo to be at least a man of higher standing? No high end luxury suites? Not lavish hotels? Apparently not! Because, no, it was the garbage can truth he chose to disclose.

Perhaps it's why taking over the bed was so easy and Tenna hadn't made much of an argument.

Positives, people. Positives.

Still, this opportunity was a slippery one, and Spamton should have left, said good riddance to that oversized cable box and been on his way elsewhere, but it was only when Tenna started opening up about what he thought happened to him… that Spamton got curious.

‘He doesn't deserve anything like that.’

How do you know what I deserve!? 

You don't KNOW ME!

YOU’LL NEVER KNOW ME! So WHAT if I am different?!

What will you do then, huh?!

…

…What else do you think of me? How else did you think of me?

Was I really… that bad?

…

The sooner he was back in the inventory, the better. This was feeling more claustrophobic that any other situation he'd ever been in, and now he had to commit to the act now that Tenna had fallen for it. This was a nightmare of an improv act that had one sickening key rule: be yourself.

Since when had he last tried to be himself to disguise himself from being noticed as himself? Every other scenario was the complete opposite. Try not to be an addison, try harder to maintain the popularity by being their personality, let him take your crossbar so that you wouldn't mess up, try to be [[Easels]] to get past the keygen gate. Be [[Angel]]...

However this new venture had just gotten out of control because now he was here, with someone who used to know him, used to love him, used to use him-

...

Last night went by… fast. It was after he'd accepted the burger from Tenna, and after inspecting it, making sure the cathode hadn't put anything in it that wasn't Spamton-approved, he had unhinged his jaw and practically started shoveling it down. The last time he had anything to eat whatsoever was in that morning before he'd encountered Kris, and whatever [Kromer] they'd given him as a form of sustenance. The one day where… he actually… got it. He'd actually won. For at least a little bit. Until…

The crackling of metal, popping of pistons and stretching of wires as he was maneuvered around feet above the ground. His advanced size with the ability to manipulate it. A visceral screeching of a voice that had practically teared through rotten speakers, to echo through the empty basement, every vocal intrusion an injurious affront to the ears of those beneath him. The burdening weight of large, metallic wings swaying his oversized body on his supports. Gripping and clawing at what contained him in his hands, desperately and frustratingly getting them tangled in his fingers as he tugged them back in a last ditch effort to resist before the new idea for the [[SOUL]] would pop into his head. 

‘WHAT ARE THESE STRINGS?! WHY AM I NOT [[BIG]] ENOUGH?! It’s still DARK! SO DARK!’

Tenna had watched him with curiosity, cocking that oversized television head to the side as he chuckled.

‘You’re hungry, aren't you? It's not going to grow legs and run away. Or, last I checked.”

Being around him again… as much as it made his stomach twist…

He wished it could all be redone. He wished it could all start over. Their first meeting. When he wasn't this thing.

…

Spamton’s eyes widened as he heard the creak of the couch in the other room. 

He’s awake.

...

As long as he stays out there. 

Spamton laid there with his eyes open, looking at the blank wall. There had been a few posters put up in the main room, with boxes scattered about, no doubt things from Tenna’s dark world he wanted to keep in close proximity. Maybe he could… look around… when the CRT was away. Kris barely showed him anything when they were in the TV dark world. 

Maybe he could-

The bedroom door cracked open, and Spamton sat up in a jolt, frozen, his gaze darting towards the door, to see that familiar brightly lit screen, no doubt expressing surprise he was also awake.

It was hitting him right about now just what Tenna signed up for. 

As he laid on the couch, annoyingly having to adjust his height so that his feet didn't dangle off, he huffed and rolled onto his side, bringing his knees to his chest. He'd been here for too long, surely it was morning already, it had to be, with every position he tried in order to get comfortable, as well as every size. Sleep was just completely out of the picture in this instance.

After the puppet and him ate in silence, or as silent as it could be with it loudly and messily scarfing down his burger like it would grow legs and walk away, Neo then shot up from the kitchen counter and proclaimed that he was going to bed, right now, immediately, with some other ad jargon thrown in there. Before Tenna had gotten the words “You” and “Couch” and “Please” out of his system, Neo had already booked it to the bedroom, made a burrow out of the covers, and finally shuffled himself in them. Tenna had stood in the doorway, teeth clenched in confusion as he thought of different scenarios of how… to exactly… bring it up? To him? That he'd like to sleep in his own bed?

As if this entire situation wasn't weird enough already. The continuous mentions of Spamton already had him feeling like he needed to drown it all out, but then… this thing claiming to be him just happened to waltz in?

…

He didn't know what to do.

Not an uncommon thing to face for him, but thankfully he was pretty gifted with thinking on his feet in times of crisis. He'd surpassed the barrier of irrelevancy enough times to continue on with his undying broadcast, through reruns of the classics, through showing continuous upgrades of shows… surely he could improvise his way through this… odd musical number he'd been given unexpectedly.

Mike, where's the script?! I need a script here!

He was getting off track.

The main issue was solving the deal with this puppet thing in his room. What it was, what its purpose was, and why it claimed everyone, at least from the Cyber World, hated it. 

…

It wasn’t Spamton. Spamton was beloved, revered, on every poster and every billboard across the city. He had a natural charisma to him, and, on the surface, was approachable and adaptive. This wasn’t…

…

‘Did any of my voices sound different to you? Maybe it was another person’s voice coming out of me?’

No. He was fine then. He was fine. It wasn't anything to worry about, we BOTH checked for it in sound check. 

No, no, this… thing,

It was an actor, or a prop, who saw what Spamton had and wanted it for himself, so maybe it tried to download all his commercials to reference and got messed up because of it? Based on his limited knowledge of computers from what Spamton had taught him, that had to be the case. Nothing else… nothing else made sense.

...

Part of Tenna felt regret he'd treated Neo so harshly, as if his feelings about Spamton got in the way of his otherwise well-catered-to hospitable and friendly side. It was just… his old commercials … the fact he was gone now. The fact he'd made it to greater pastures just like he said he would. 

Tenna rolled over onto his other side, facing the cushions, sleep just not being there, and he must have rolled over wrong or shifted his shoulders in a way that wasn't the best for him, because when pain radiated through his arm, he bit back a loud crackling wince and sat up in a jolt, rubbing the crease of where his arm met his shoulder. Ever since his run in with The Knight, and how little Ralsei congratulated him on barely evading death, his wounds had given him some grief with how they were healing. He should see one of Cyber City’s ambyu-lances today like he had on his first day recruited, or even Malius. Someone here had to specialize, or at least be somewhat experienced with, technology of his caliber. His own ex-employees had helped him out substantially, but this discomfort and pain wasn't going away. 

He'd probably twisted the wires around in his arm, so those could be tinkered with, but as for his broken antenna he'd need a replacement part from the light world specifically. There was no healing something like that down here. It needed that TLC only those above could provide.

…

If he wasn't sleeping, then he was going to do something.

Rising slowly from the couch, Tenna thought to get one of his tailcoats that hadn't been haphazardly thrown on the couch and wrinkled, but that meant going into the bedroom and potentially seeing his new stowaway roommate. Maybe he wouldn't even be awake, if Tenna was quiet enough to not disturb him. So, cautiously, the CRT walked up to the door, pressed on it and–

The light from his screen reflected off the mirrored lenses in the dark, which stared right back at him.

“Oh, hey! Neo. Look who's awake, hahaha. Just…!” Tenna slipped into the room, walking towards the closet. “Came in to grab a tailcoat.” 

The puppet nodded in his direction without a word, and Tenna opened up a small closet near the back of the room, where a line of similarly fashioned tailcoats he'd brought from his dark world were hanging. He turned his back to the smaller darkner, and could feel a sweat animation play on the temple of his screen.

Why's he not talking? It's… really unnerving.

Taking one gingerly off the hook, he turned back around before draping it over his arm. “Okay, umm, got it! You can go back to sleep? If you want.”

He saw Neo look down, the glint of pink and yellow showing as he did, and with that Tenna felt less unnerved and more… concerned. He had been glitching rather bad the other day, but Tenna had no frame of reference for what was normal for this little darkner. Looking back on it, this puppet had lied to him, sure, but ultimately was in a place of need. He could sympathize with that, as the CRT was in a similar spot after his fall, and maybe they could relate in a recently-injured way. After all, from the looks of it, how could he forget the crooked appearance of Neo’s nose after the swatchling encounter? Which, thankfully, had straightened out overnight.

Tenna grabbed the door handle, intending on leaving the room, but something in him caused him to hesitate. Ultimately sighing and letting his shoulders droop, he resigned himself to his next hopeful conversation.

“Hey… look, I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday with the rules. That, and a lot of what I said was a lot ruder than I thought!” Tenna, hearing again no response from the other darkner, decided to commit to this second act of being a charitable and empathetic host. After all, wasn't he trying to be better? Trying to be good? That was the CRT the lightners saved, after all. Not someone who was still bitter about a certain someone. He flicked on the light to the bedroom, and turned around to face the puppet, who was once again looking up at him, this time with more intrigue.

You're not him. So I shouldn't be treating you like him. The ads were just a lot, but I got used to them once. I can… do it again. It's like listening to an old tape.

“So I want to say you're welcome here, and if you needed anything to keep you busy while I'm out, I can always get it. Were you staying anywhere else when Kris lost your glasses? Or is this your first-”

“WHAT’S YOUR [[play]] HERE, [Cathode]? WHAT’S THE [[Bait and Switch scheme]]?”

“Nothing, I was just doing some thinking. I thought that your comment yesterday was right. I haven't been the best host, but I've had a lot on my mind. The move, the lightners, and you already said you saw what happened to me.” Tenna graced his opposite arm with the one that held the suit jacket, stiffening even with the light pressure against his bandages. “It's all been a bit much, but you've also said you haven't had it easy. With a garbage can and all?”

“...[Realtors are going to love this location] OF [[Weekly.Garbage.Pickups]], YEAH.”

“So I thought, maybe we could try being friends? My big quarrel with Spamton shouldn't be affecting you, so we can just start over.”

“...START [Fresh local produce]??”

“Yes! So what do you say? After all, we both know the lightners so it seems we each have a mutual party. Better for business, right?”

The puppet seemed to contemplate that, looking down at his hands. His brow furrowed, but that smile widened in a strained way that again made Tenna feel on edge in the presence of it.

“Maybe if there's something I can do to make it up to you, you can let me know?”

“I DIDN’T [[appreshiation cards]] THE FACT THAT JUST BEING AROUND ME IS GOING TO [0% Quarterly Earnings] YOUR [[Ratings and Reviews]].” 

Oh I did say that, huh? Him tanking my ratings? Yeesh. that wouldn't be a very nice thing to hear. Especially if he was a dedicated viewer at a point. 

“Oh, ratings, smatings, right?” Tenna waved off the comment. “You're right about that one! In fact, what does it even say about my skills?”

That caused Neo to look back up, slowly, as if he was wondering where Tenna was going with this. 

“I bet I could shape anyone to be admirable to the public, and I mean anyone! Including, but not limited to, little cyber viruses like yourself.”

He expected the puppet to at least be a little enthusiastic about that proposition, with how lucky he could be to have a friend in his state of being down on his luck. It would be even better if he had a friend as favorable in the spotlight and influential such as Tenna. Whatever poor reputation Neo had among his home darkners, maybe with a little makeup, some connections, an outfit upgrade, some decent line reads, a… shower… he'd be an interesting candidate for the cameras! Maybe Tenna could even get him to recite lines for commercials and advertisements he fed him, put that hazardous little ad break feature of his to good use!

His mind was already buzzing with the possibilities, maybe he underestimated how favorable this darkner could be to even him–

“WHAT THE [[$%#@]] DO YOU [mean] BY THAT?” Neo snapped, standing now on the bed, visibly clenched fists shaking at his sides. “P;pAR>AD1NG ME AROUND LIKE ONE OF Y;=0UR [[sideshow acts]], IS THAT IT?!”

What? No! That's not what I meant.

“Not at all!” That sweating animation was back on his screen as he shook his hands out in front of him to hopefully dismiss the tension. “In fact, I think you'd be in good hands! Maybe with a little work, we could even get you a spot on TV Time when it airs again.”

“A LITTLE WORK?!” Neo stepped off the bed, hurriedly stomping over to Tenna, pointing at him angrily, causing the TV darkner’s smile to take a sharp drop as he backed up into the other room. Neo advanced on him, fuming. “I’M NOT YOUR [[long-nosed doll]] TO BE [mold residue] AND [[ready for YOUR     ]] [Excruciating Transformation!]!! I CAN’T GO THROUGH [that again]!!!”

“I'm not saying that, Neo, I'm just-”

“OH I KNOW WHAT YOUR [slaying].” He gestured madly with his hands, and shoved Tenna at his legs when he got too close, causing Tenna to almost stumble and back up even faster away from him. “YOU WANT SOMEONE TO [fix] AND TO [[Create in his own image]]!!! YOU WANT SOMETHING YOU [repaired] TO [[Show it off]]!!! FRESHLY [manipulated]!! HOT OFF THE [Grill]! [[$%#@ED]] OFF THE [Presses]!!! BUT [[Heaven]] FORBID THEY GET [[brighter]] THAT YOU!!!! WELL IT ISN’T. GOING. TO. BE. ME. YOU CAN’T FIX ME!!”

What does he mean?! 

He sounds insane!

“I-! O-okay look! Calm down, okay? Calm down! Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say. I'm sorry.”

Neo halted dead in his tracks, his enraged face falling slack before he paused and averted his eyes away from the taller darkner.

Jeez, what HAS he been through?

“I'm sorry,” Tenna repeated, softer than earlier. “I just thought I could help.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Neo took an audible and shaky breath in, exhaling slowly afterward. He was still seething, breathing heavy from shouting so loud there was probably leftover strain.

“But I thought… after you were treated yesterday, by those swatchlings, you'd want maybe a kind sponsor in your corner.”

“WHERE’S THIS [coming soon] FROM? YOU DON’T [[owed]] ME ANYTHING. THIS ISN’T PART OF THE [[deals on apartments for rent]]!”

“I know, but I feel like I made the wrong impression, and if you're going to hide here just until you can give Kris back their glasses, I might as well make that time dramatics-free? For both of us.”

Also maybe you'll give me back my bed?

Neo didn't say anything, and he visibly tensed his shoulders as his teeth clenched, eye contact with the floor so strong Tenna would think he was having a staring contest with it. He appeared as if he was calming down, from how the tension in his shoulders eased.

…

Come on. At least say something to that!

“What… do you say?”

“...OKAY.”

“Okay!” Tenna clapped his hands once, taking a few steps more of distance from the smaller darkner as he unfolded his tailcoat. “I have to go do things around Castle Town, that TV building isn't going to get itself started without my help. Just a list of things I’m dealing with, nothing you need to think about. Will you be all hunky dory here by yourself?”

Neo glanced up at him and nodded. “SURE I WILL. AS LONG AS I’M [[down and out]] AWAY FROM THOSE [dirty slimes] AND [[cyber crimes]], I’LL BE FINE.”

“Good…! Good. Make yourself at home!” Tenna slipped on his tailcoat over his arms, wincing against the strain of the arm he'd laid on incorrectly overnight. He'd go get help first thing to get those bandages replaced as well as his injuries looked at-

“...ARE YOU [[injured on the job? You may be entitled to   ]]?”

“Heh, what?” Tenna asked as he buttoned up his coat.

“I CAN [[Offered Assistance]].” Neo looked up with him with a newfound zeal, his hands out in front of him, curled maniacally. Tenna swore he was on the verge of glitching again.

“Oh, no.” Tenna said lightheartedly, trying to put some distance between the two. “It's just some things I got when I… well you know! I don't regret it in the slightest, those lightners were worth it, but I’m still healing. Don't worry about it.” 

Tenna made for the doorway for his shoes, but felt resistance behind him that made him stop and slowly turn back around. He found the puppet had snagged a hold of one of his coattails in a closed fist and was looking up at him with insistence.

“PRESS [[F1 for Help]].”

“Sorry, I don't know what that means.”

“REPEAT IT [to your friends and family!] AND GET A [[Health evaluation not covered by your provider. Terms and Conditions may apply]]. THE BEST [Ailments to cure] THIS SIDE OF THE               !!1! [Press F1 for Help].” Letting go of his tailcoat, the puppet then clasped his hands together.

Still have no idea what that means. Maybe it's a tech-savvy thing? Make it Neo, I suppose.

“Okay? Hahaha,” Tenna chuckled at the word garbage from the smaller darkner, turning completely around and putting his hand on his hip. “Press F1 for help? What's it mean?”

Neo grinned proudly and green sparkles appeared around his closed hands, which then opened, and an even smaller version of him, complete with white, fluffy wings and an iridescent halo, flew up out from his palms. Tenna’s smile dropped and he took one stunned step back-

It looks like what attacked the swatchlings-!

before the angel flew up and tapped his head between his antennas, similar green sparkles brightening the area around them. It then hovered around his face, causing Tenna to scrunch up his nose as the mini-neo tapped the end of it with more of the little glimmers of… healing. 

Relaxing, Tenna could process what it was exactly. It was a healing spell. 

“HEY WHY THE [[Top 10 scariest videos]] REACTION?? IT’S NOT LIKE IT’S MADE OF [Magnets]!! NO [Picchure] OR COLOR DAMAGE. THATS A    [Big Shot Guarenttee]!!!1! [No Televisions were Harmed in the Making]!! EAHEHEAHEA!”

I suppose it's not… attacking. Okay.

Tenna then cupped his hands out in front of him, his screen brightening with awe as the little angel chose to stand then on his palms, smiling sweetly up at him. If he thought Neo was small, this little angel was on a completely new level, but from the way it then tapped at his fingers with the little green twinkling rain of healing, Tenna thought it looked… rather cute, and couldn't help the wobbly smile that emerged on his face because of it.

“YOU’RE WELCOME. NOW WILL THAT BE [[Cash or Card]]?? I CAN ALSO TAKE [[check your bag for money off your next flight]].”

“Oh, umm…?”

“I’LL JUST MARK YOU DOWN AS [payment sent to collections]. WHAT, YOU DIDN’T THINK THIS WAS [[Free of charge]], DID YOU?? I’M NOT THE COMMON [joe] OR THE COMMON [shmoe] THAT WOULD GIVE THESE AS [[handouts]]. I [But at a cost] EVERYBODY, NO MATTER WHAT TYPE OF [[Sin]] THEY'VE COMMITTED, BUT, BECAUSE OF OUR [[Agreement]], I’LL SET YOU UP WITH A [[75% OFF one when you buy 2]] NEXT TIME YOU COME IN [Contact List] WITH ANY KNIGHTS, ALRIGHT? COURTESY OF                    .”

“I managed all my currency in points but-”

“ALL [Conversion rates] TO [[Kromer]] ARE ACCEPTED. WE’LL SORT OUT THE DETAILS.”

“Right, sounds fair to me.” Tenna tried to regard the puppet seriously, but was still plenty distracted by the tiny imitation of him in his grasp. “Still, this is… amazing! I mean, look at it!” Tenna rose the little angel up higher back towards his screen, a small, static-y giggle escaping him as the little angel tapped at his nose again, its fluffy white wings flapping with glee at the compliment. It looked delighted to be doing its job, and seemed to like him a lot more than Neo did. The speed at which its wings were going lifted it just barely out of his palms as it continued to tap and Tenna continued to laugh. “It's so tiny! How do you get them so tiny?”

“YEAH, YEAH, TIME’s UP, [shmuck].” Neo whistled impatiently and the angel flew back towards him, out of Tenna’s cupped hands. Once it was in a good distance, Neo closed a quick fist around it, poofing it away in what looked like a puff of green, computerized code. 

Oh. Just like that, then.

“...That was incredible! Where did you learn how to do that? There's not many darkners out there that know healing spells like that!” Tenna gestured with his hands out in front of him, noticing… how… the pain of his wires in his arms had ceased. Significantly. 

“[Practice makes perfect] AND A WHOLE LOTTA [[tumble and falls]], [Repair broken toys with ease], AND NOT TO MENTION THE [[Electrical shocks]] AND FORCED [[Swimming Lessons from 3-5]]. THOSE [A palette of all colors] ALSO CONTRIBUTED TO THE [[Hurt? Good.]] I HAD TO FIX [In record time].”

Tenna’s excited expression wavered, as he thought of the implications of those ad breaks compared to what he'd seen the other day. 

Oh.

Neo must have caught him staring, because he brushed his hair back and fixed his jacket nervously. “EAHEAHEAHEA! BUT THAT’S WHAT THEY DO BEST! JUST KEEPING ME FROM MY [[the smooth, smooth taste]] OF THAT [summer-ready body in just 3 short steps]. BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME!!!!” Neo waved his hands in the air and pointed at Tenna. “YOU’RE LATE FOR YOUR [[running errands]], AREN’T YOU???”

“Right, no, I have to go. But I’ll see you later. It should be just a couple hours.” Tenna slipped his shoes on, fixing his tie over his tailcoat and made his way to the door. “Help yourself to what's in the fridge, and…” he hesitated, hand on the doorknob. “Thanks. For the healing spell.”

“IT’S STILL GONNA [Cost] YA. THAT WASN’T [[on the house treatments]].”

“I'm still thanking you regardless.”

With that, Tenna left his room in the castle, leaving the puppet darkner behind as he closed the door.

Chapter Text

Tenna walked quickly out of the room, posture straighter than it had been since his defeat. His arms felt great after the healing spell from the little puppet man, and he flexed his shoulder experimentally now that he was truly away from him. The motion was smooth, and without a surge or even twinge of discomfort. It was like he hadn't gotten attacked at all, save for the still busted antenna. 

What would be the quote on the healing spell? Tenna thought he'd heard the name kromer once from Spamton, but it never seemed to take off. However, a lot of things in cyber city could have changed ever since he'd last visited, including the digital currency. 

He had told me the points system was flawless. Well, look at it now. In the mud along with everything else. Oh well, Neo doesn't have to know that. 

Walking down the upper hallway, Tenna noticed he must have been one of the last ones up, even Queen’s room already had music playing from behind the door from those high-tech speakers she'd managed to get in a quick order from little Ralsei. Tenna knew his stay was temporary, but he wondered if he could get Neo anything to make his stay more comfortable. Surely then… he'd disclose more information about his certain someone and then their deal would be complete.

Tenna walked down the stairs of the castle, hand trailing the railing, to see some darkners in the foyer of the place, two of which saw him and practically rushed to greet him.

“Well good morning, sunshine!” Lanino greeted him warmly, and as expected (but also to Tenna’s relief and delight) Elnina wasn't far behind. 

“We thought today’s weather report of a twelve percent chance of rain would have kept you away from everyone,” she added, then folded her hands together. “You're feeling better, right?”

“We were actually just heading upstairs to see how you were,” Lanino continued. “Nobody needs the boss feeling under the weather, right?”

Tenna chuckled at the two’s quips, but quickly internally thanked his lucky stars that he'd left Neo when he did. Nothing would have prepared him for making up an excuse to his former employees on why he had a deranged little ad-virus in his room if they happened to see him. It's not something he could twist for television, rather it could spur heaps of drama off the bat, with rumors that spread like live news.

“I am, I was just going to get my bandages changed, but I'm feeling so much better I could settle for a couple lights and film crew right now.” Tenna confidently reassured them, then put his hands on his hips. “Back in live, back on the cameras, back in action!”

“That's good news!” Elnina responded, cheerfully. “We could always go with you, if you needed the company.”

Tenna smiled at that, thankful for their compassion towards him. It was something he appreciated they were doing for him after his... well, he didn't like to think too much about how he acted before his encounter with the knight...

It... didn't make him feel very... good. At all.

He had yelled, berated and at some point fired each and every one of them, using his influx in height for intimidation, making sure to tower over every single one, using their contracts against them if they still weren't going to listen, baring his teeth at those he respected while shouting commands down at them to 'find those lightners or else!'. He was in charge here! Why didn't they get that?! He was always going to be in charge here! There was a lot of concerned and cowering faces as they all flipped sides, one by one. It was still jarring to think about, how quickly everything spiraled out of control, and everything he thought it cost him at the time.

He just... didn't want to be thrown away. But now that his games had gotten old, he was not going to go quietly.

He swore to himself that wasn't typically how he was or he acted. He was friendly! Fun! Still full of potential! Hell, he hadn't even been completely aware he'd hit a breaking point but now that he had... what was the point? The damage was done.

...Or so he thought.

Lifted out of the semi-consciousness, of the snow seeping through his coat and into the crevices of his buttons and dials, to a flurry of familiar voices, led by the strongest of who he knew and recognized as Susie. They had all propped him up, as the shadowguys, the pippins, among others, urgently raced to locate his dismembered arms and reattach them as quickly and efficiently as they could with just some stray bandages Ramb had in the green room. He heard through the static engulfing his screen as Susie, sweet, heroic Susie, crafted her own healing magic to try and keep him alive. He really couldn't thank her enough. Couldn't thank any of them enough. Even if he couldn't vocalize it in that moment, the only words cycling through him...

Thank you. I didn't want to die.

Lanino and Elnina, his second in command, were on opposite sides of him, holding his arms in place as the others bound him back together. It surprised him, while in the state he was in, that they were even doing this for him, considering how poorly he'd treated them. How he stormed through the studio, pinning the blame of the lightners' disappearances on each and every employee he saw. No wonder it came to everyone quitting, but at the end of the day, they all helped him back on his feet.

Tenna cherished their mercy, their forgiveness, and because of their unrelenting kindness towards him, he could have his chance at making it up to them.

Life could continue on.  

It was still a lot to think about. He wasn't sure he could think about it all right now and what it meant. But a lifetime living in the past turned into existing in the day-to-day practically overnight and it was a lot to get used to.

“Thank you, I'd really appreciate that. It should be quick, afterwards I'm going to see what they need in the TV building that I can help set up. With Mike gone, who's going to coordinate those mini game stages? Those sets need a director's eye! Someone who knows how it all works behind the scenes!” Tenna fixed his tie while talking himself up.

“Riiight, yup! No Mike.” A glance from Lanino at Elnina.

“Can't say I've heard of Mike since either!” A returned glance from Elnina to Lanino.

The three had left the castle without any more interruptions, and Tenna remembered the building where an ambyu-lance station was set up, the same one that looked at him and reassembled him a bit better that what was urgent back in TV world after it all went down. 

Walking through the town, Tenna looked around with optimism at the amount of darkners that were strolling together, chatting around the water cooler, playing cards or other games, genuinely just living after their worlds had been closed down. It was a unity he hadn't seen in a very long time, except on public access network TV.

“How is my favorite weather channel duo getting used to everything here anyway?” Tenna asked the two to his side. “It's all so new! I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Oh you have to check out the café,” Lanino replied enthusiastically, taking Elnina’s hand to his side and staring into her eyes as they walked. “My sweet morning dewdrop decided we should go spruce up the start of the day, and the cafe manager recommended a drink that smelled almost as good as the air before a storm.”

“It's one of the hottest spots to be, almost as much as my glorious sunbeam.” Elnina added, reciprocating her lover’s gesture by leaning into him. “Their menu is full of delicious options, and the atmosphere is perfect as well. We’re going to be checking out other buildings in town, like what's on our agenda today, my radiant night sky?”

“A trip to our town’s arena, my serene lullaby of rainfall.”

“What a splendid idea! Maybe we could learn to-”

“-coordinate our attacks to be more in sync?”

“I was just going to say that!”

Tenna couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, but was truly content if not relieved they'd wound up mending their relationship. Part of him prided himself on his role in repairing it. Who would have known that his rainbow bridge idea would be so effective at stopping a lover's quarrel? Atlantis just has the ability to do that sometimes! See, he knew it! What did Mike know about making a beautiful tropical paradise love board? The results spoke for themselves.

But also, this was just how the pair was on an everyday basis, so at least something had stayed the same since TV world. It was a consistency he didn't know he needed to see until now-

“My, my! Look at the happy couple! Could I interest you both in a matching pair of dating shoes?”

Tenna looked to his left, and saw a blue addison with a friendly smile on their face approaching them. They had what looked like a blue holographic ad pulled up beside them that read ‘Dating Shoes! Buy a pair get a pair 25% off If you order with your partner!’. The addison pulled the shoes out of the ad, as if it were their own separate inventory, and proudly presented it to the weather duo.

Tenna scrunched his nose at the salesman, but tried to mask his growing discontentment with them. These darkners were no good news, this he knew for certain based on his obvious resentment towards them. 

“Oh, Elnina! These look perfect for us.” Lanino, like a moon-shaped moth drawn to a shoe-shamed flame, got closer to the addison to marvel at the display.

“I love the colors! And oh, this style would suit you so well, my dappling ray of shine!”

“As would they with your dress, my feather-soft cloud!”

“Lanino, Elnina, you don't want anything from them.” Tenna tried to interrupt. “They're addisons. I'm sure you-”

“Oh don't think we didn't notice you, big guy,” Like he had come out of nowhere, another addison appeared, orange in color, and circled him, almost like a predator would with prey.  “Your fashion sense is impeccable! This strong shade of red makes me think I've seen it somewhere. It's so bold and exudes confidence! Do you happen to have your own professional stylist or are you in the market?”

“Banner, this is my sale…!” The blue addison obviously tried sounding polite, but the rising conflict was just enough to detect. “Go find your own…!”

“What? I did! You can have the lovers, I’ll deal with the TV guy.” The orange addison turned his attention back up at him, their salesman’s hue glowing bright as he actively tried to recover. “Sorry about them, sir. Would you like to see our collection of matching ties?”

“I'm actually not interested, thank you though.” Tenna turned around, only to see a pink addison stroll up to the five of them, flipping his ponytail over his shoulder. The orange one looked livid to see him approach, as if the instant karma of interrupting the blue one’s pitch wasn’t hitting him like a bunch of rocks.

“Well, of course you don't want matching ties or new suits,” The pink addison said near accusingly, in an interesting style of pitch already, as he tilted a hand against his own chest. “Why want more when you already have it all? But maybe an accessory would make an already stunning outfit seem complete. We have all ring sizes available in a variety of styles! Real embroidery as well as perfectly placed gemstones, just for you!” 

“I said. No. Thank you.” Tenna’s brow furrowed and he grit his teeth in a large, forced smile as he looked down at the intruding pink addison. The addison looked back up at him and visibly dimmed, even as he kept that fake salesman's grin plastered on his face.

“Right. No thank you, addisons! We're busy at the moment.” Lanino said as he looked at Elnina for clarification and she nodded.

“Yes, but we’ll keep the shoes in mind.” Elnina continued, smiling at the three brightly colored programs. 

“Of course,” The blue addison placed the shoes back in the pop-up, and whisked it away with a flick of their wrist, gesturing friendly with their free hands out in front of them. “Take all the time you need to decide! For addisons, sales never sleeps!”

Sales never sleeps.

Tenna couldn't help but visualize...

A hunched over white addison at his desk, holding the phone between the side of his head and his shoulder as he tirelessly wrote down whatever feedback he was getting from it. 

His eyes looked stressed, bags under them dark and pronounced, a notable challenge for the cover up makeup crew before the shoot tomorrow, and his signature ivory glow faded in and out with what were probably ripples of absolute exhaustion. Tenna standing in the doorway, looking at him and waiting to be noticed, with a despondent and defeated frown on his face. The addison seemed to be moving stiffly, with sharp, sudden movements, as if he was being yanked around against his will by either something pulling his limbs or by sheer determination to stay awake–

“You alright, Tenna?” Elnina asked him, tugging slightly on the sleeve of his jacket.

Come on, what are you doing zoning out like that? Over HIM?! Pull it together!

“Yeah. I was thinking about something–” 

“Tenna?” He heard the three addisons interrupt him in unison and he faced them out of sheer curiosity with how surprised their voices sounded. 

“From TV Time…!” The pink one announced and snapped his fingers. “I knew I'd seen him from somewhere.”

“Wait, Survey,” The orange one turned towards the blue and mumbled quietly, but not quiet enough for Tenna not to catch it. “That's his old partner, right?”

The blue addison nodded, their eyes wide and staring at him, even while acknowledging the other addison’s question.

Tenna tensed at the sudden attention, his unbandaged antenna twitching nervously. Normally, he'd be all about this, but these were addisons. The television darkner then turned back around and continued to walk in the direction they were going. Elnina and Lanino shared looks with each other and then proceeded to quickly follow Tenna from behind, while he tried to focus on anything else besides the whispers of addisons behind him and what exactly they could be discussing–

When all of a sudden, the pink one ran in front of the three of them, causing Tenna to jump in surprise and stop dead in his tracks. 

I'm getting real sick of these salesmen!

“Please move, we don't want-!”

“Sorry. Mr. Ant Tenna was it?” The pink addison clasped his hands to retain some composure, but Tenna could tell from the beads of sweat on his forehead that this addison was acting on some sort of urgency. “You have to excuse us. We’re all just huge fans. There used to be ads all over Cyber City for TV Time, and well, you know us addisons! We’re never even thirty feet away from the nearest advertisement to anything.”

“I appreciate that, and it's great to meet a fan..! But-”

“Will you come by our stores whenever you're free? Each one of us will offer you,” The pink addison summoned similar holo pop-ups as the blue one did, except in his own color of pink. The ad read a giant ‘75% OFF!’ as it floated beside him, as to emphasize his pitch. “75% Off of all merchandise!”

“Clicks–!” The orange one hissed. “I can't afford tha-”

He was then silenced by the blue addison’s hand over his mouth.

“What do you say?” The pink one continued. “It'd mean a lot to us eager fans of classic television! That, and if you happen to need a commercial done in the future~! We can always make something work.”

Tenna grit his teeth again, and forced an harsh smile, his brow crinkling as everything screamed at him to not trust these darkners no matter what.

“I'll think about it, thank you very much for the offer.” Tenna replied, but that was apparently enough to offer the addison some security in order to back off.

“Thank you so much, you three have a good day!” The pink addison cheerfully chimed, and walked back over to the others, muttering a faint, and barely audible “Happy now?” to the other two. Tenna felt the need to ignore this and picked up the pace away from them.

“Seventy-five percent off… on everything?” Lanino whispered once they got a good distance away from the addison pack. “Boss, that's a great deal…! Just for TV Time recognition!”

“Surprises me we don't get anything like that. But the weather’s not as memorable as the host is.” Elnina sighed wistfully. “I really liked those shoes.”

“It could be the nicest item in the world,” Tenna started, his voice low. “I just don't… do well with addisons.” As he finished the statement, his good antenna drooped as he slid his thumbs in his pants pockets. 

The two lovers paused and exchanged sad, knowing looks as they followed him, unsaid understanding about a certain mailman hanging in the air. The silence trailed on, long until he could get to where the ambyu-lances were.

“COME ON YOU OVERS1z3D [[hollowed out TV Fishtank Diy]], WHAT THE [#%&%] ARE YOU [storing for the apocalypse] IN HERE??”

Spamton, after making absolutely sure the CRT was gone and not coming back, retreated into the room. He'd even took a gander in the hallway to see if there was any sign he'd have the nerve to come back, but it seemed whatever Tenna had in store for today was more important than watching him. Speaking of the room...

Tenna’s tour had been subpar at best. Just goes to show that if he wanted to scope out an area, he may as well do it himself. Spamton thought about that on a loop as he resigned himself to the quest in figuring out more about what he was working with while he had the chance.

Still, everything Tenna had was disorganized, shoved into boxes that were consequently shoved into corners. He'd had to push one of the leftover game show podiums away from where it was just to get a better access.

There was barely anything here. One box had old game controllers, cords wound up and tangled from use, and VHS tapes labeled with just ‘The Classics Vol 1., Vol 2.,’ and so on. Another had one, single, large and empty gacha ball in it. Not even a full sized machine, no, just one. One. gacha. ball. The thought popped in the puppet’s head to fill it with automatically replicating [pipis] and then when it was opened, who knows what would happen? Maybe it'd be enough at that point to fill the entire castle? That depended on how long it took for someone to open it. No. He wouldn't do that to the lightners. Not after everything he'd done to ride his redemption wave so far.

Tenna had even kept some sub-par merchandise! Who the fuck in this dark world would want a shower curtain plastered with cowboy hats?! Who needs this many pie trays?! Maybe if Spamton was the one selling them, sure, he could make it work, but who buys anything from TV anymore?

Keep going.

Spamton had gotten to the point in his search where it came to looting through the selection of promotional posters featuring that Cathode's stupid face or depictions of his games the lightners played, and the whole thing just made Spamton want to spit on it all.

How dare he? After ruining my life and my prospects and my fame and my fortune, you barely keep anything of ours? This is all recent! What about from the good old days?! Were you in a rush to throw everything away of me too? I swear to [Heaven], you damn overgrown paperweight. It was your stuff they should have thrown out of your room. YOU should have had everything you owned taken away while YOU rotted away. 

Part of Spamton wanted to take all of the items Tenna had accumulated and dump them outside of his castle town room for some sweet poetic justice. But what would that solve instead of making some sort of tripping hazard? No, he had to keep exploring.

As for the rest of the room and what was provided, there was everything a darkner could ever realistically need in here, but 'lavish living' wasn't the word Spamton would use, which was so unlike the insufferable gilded TV. He wondered why Tenna hadn't put up his gilded-red-roped-barrier-posts or a whole case full of golden mini tenna figures, or yes, even the promotional posters. 

Wondered, not wanted. Because the last thing the salesman wanted to see in his laying-low safe spot was the Cathode's face plastered everywhere. That was his job! His gimmick! Tenna could copy it when he was dead!

...

But he was supposed to die. Something just went wrong.

...

The correct answer right now was to stop snooping. Wait until Tenna gets back. Maybe take a nap considering his lack of sleep. But he physically couldn't will himself to. Spamton dragged his hands through his hair, letting out a garbled groan, feeling himself short out in varying glitches as he did so.

A lot of it was just making him furious. To see this cushy, comfortable life Tenna lived even while not in the brightest of spotlights, it was still a spotlight nonetheless. Maybe, at worst, the CRT had to replace a bulb now and then, but seemed stable and consistent. And where was he?! Where was good ol’ lovable Spamton G. Spamton?! Where were his posters?

…

...

He remembered a moment where he had ripped down one of his old posters from where it previously was plastered and weathered in the Cyber City alleyway. Most of them had already been concealed by whatever marketing schemes Queen could conjure up for the damage control after how sudden his decline was.

This alleyway, where he had stood, was once a busy street, with other darkners of the age populating it, but it had since resorted to being another back alley when new businesses had swallowed up the vacancy. There had even been darkners here at one point that since were turned to stone upon their deletion from the laptop. In any other instance, the salesman from the nineties should have been one of them. But… he was kept alive.

By his own blind willpower to stay active and relevant most likely, even if it meant making the lightners regret ever creating him in the first place. Just enough of him, more of him, just enough time. Just enough time he could buy in order to get [[Bigger]]. He was so, so close. He had come so close last time, having Neo’s chest piece just graze the end of his fingertips before Tasque Manager’s electric lasso wrapped around his torso and he could smell his own burnt hair before passing out due to the voltage.

Being a shoddy con wasn't the life he had thought he'd be attending to, but it was the one he was sticking with as he cradled the wrinkled poster close to his chest. Spamton, with bare, plastic, blue-and-yellow paint splotched feet kicking against the dumpster floor in order to nestle farther in the corner (and consequently scraping against the unattended sludge that coated the bottom like a film), held the poster close to him like it was the only comfort in his too-small, too-vacant world.

His posters now were all gone. No one would have the nostalgic sense to save them and he'd permanently closed down his shop in order to commit to Neo once he was fully and completely downloaded into the robot’s programming. Whatever happened to it? He had no clue realistically, but still felt its power and capability in his fingertips, just itching at him. Maybe it was like a ghost limb; it was gone but he could still… feel it. There was a need to still move it. Even if that was out of the question.

Now Tenna’s posters looked back up at him from their placement in a cardboard box. Pristine- not a wrinkle or tear to be found. Well cared for and maintained despite their age.

He gently picked one up, feeling the paper brush against the plastic of his fingers, looking intensely at the cartoonishly wide smile of the CRT. A similar one that once looked down at him with fascination, with excitement, with joy. There were always doubts in his mind how truthful these expressions were towards him, as he felt like he was being treated as a genuine equal. But how could he ever be treated as an equal? When has he ever been at equal value with someone, especially someone as influential as Tenna? No, he had to keep his eye on the prize. 

On the fame, 

on his status. 

He couldn't help being distracted. 

And if Spamton just followed the instructions, he'd be able to reap the promised reward of being [Bigger] than him one day.

…

…

This wasn't helping him.

Light static trailed in through his glasses, trickling in like a sink left on unattended. As he returned the poster to its previous resting place, Spamton made his way back to the bedroom. To the final place he hadn't snooped through, the closet, he pushed back the collection of tailcoats, matching ties, and black dress pants to continue his nosing around mission. Inside, practically stuffed in a corner, behind a discarded spotlight and a large powered-off ‘GAME’ sign, was another box. 

This seemed to be the last one he hadn't checked, and with some rearranging of the closet, he nonchalantly pulled out the box, unfolded the top and–

...

In it were only two posters.

…

Our first collaboration.

…

Pictured was Tenna, posing with one hand triumphantly pointing in front of him, whereas a much smaller near-identically dressed salesman stood beside him, leaned against a jet black car while twirling a set of keys in his hand. Their wide, joyous smiles would be contagious to anyone else, but as Spamton gently removed it from the box, just the concept of a contagious grin was foreign to him. He stared, the static border ever-present in his vision and hissing in his head among the silence of the room. 

The poster was signed, no doubt by someone that hadn't been around for a very long time-

                  ‘We did it! Cheers to another year of working with you!

                                 -Your shining star. 1997.’

He remembered the suit. He remembered being fitted for the suit. He remembered really drilling into his prep crew to make his shoulders look pronounced and to cinch the waist for that classic infomercial look. He'd opted for white slacks in comparison to Tenna’s black ones, that and his golden shoes had some dimension to them (to put it mildly) as to give him some extra inches in height, but otherwise, everything else was the same, from the shiny red suit to the eye-catching yellow tie.

He had looked camera-ready, stunning, and he knew it. The thought crossed Spamton’s mind that he might as well wear this to the Cyber Grille meetup that night with the other addisons, to practically smear it into their faces how good it had got for him in his trek to television. Those meetups were becoming far and few between, so he might only have the one chance to fulfill his goal to boast.

Spamton remembered Tenna marveling at him, practically worshipping him with his praises from the other side of the dressing room.

‘Look out, Cyber City! You have a new shining star in your midst!

I think it's safe to say the cameras have their work cut out for them today! Better have a personal conversation with the spotlight itself, I don't want it to get too envious of you. Haha!

Let's get this show on the road, Big Shot. What do you say?’

A cacophony of static noise had engulfed his glasses and his senses of sight and sound. He had no clue how long he'd been stationary, glued in that spot as a helpless captor to the visual snow. Spamton shook his head violently to try and ward it off, but it seemed to fill his head more, enveloping him in a constant chamber of static that greedily leeched all of his perception of his world. 

As if to defend against it, his head glitched harshly, breaking and contorting into a series of pixels. He was trembling, and heard a crinkling of glossy coated paper in his hands through the static, his teeth gritting and grinding.

I had EVERYTHING. 

I 

Had

EVERYTHING.

I blame you.

YOU DID THIS.

I'm sick of you.

I'm SICK.

I can't stomach the sight of you.

I want you back. 

So you did care after all…

I needed you! I needed you! 

Where WERE you?!

You were using me!

Why can't I have it again?

What did

I do

to deserve this?!

A loud tearing sound ripped through the static noise.

…

Immediately Spamton realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Breathing in staggering, addled hisses through his teeth, the puppet resorted to knocking himself in the side of the head with the ball of his wrist to try and short out the static clouding his vision. It worked in parts, even if the dizziness that followed was just as disorienting, but when it had faded away enough…

Spamton realized the poster he’d held had been torn right down the middle, just hanging on by what little leverage it had left. It had also been violently crinkled from where he'd grabbed it in a previous viciousness that was birthed from the growing vividness of his memories. 

…

He stared wide-eyed at the damage, his rapid breathing lessening to be more panicked bursts every couple seconds.

The tear had separated the two, and Spamton couldn't look at it anymore.

He tossed it haphazardly behind him.

Then stood

…very

…still.

…

…

…

…One thing was for certain.

Tenna could never find it.

Spamton didn't even know he would have kept something like that until just now.

…

It couldn't go back in the box.

It-

Spamton acted quickly as if his life depended on it, or as if someone could walk in at any second. He resealed the box with the remaining poster inside of it, no doubt another one of him from his prime, but one he did not want to see at the moment, if ever. After, he shoved the box back and replaced the items concealing it, including the spotlight, the sign, the hanging tailcoats. Closing the closet, Spamton turned his attention back to the crumpled and torn poster on the ground.

Completing the tear to separate the poster into two separate pieces, he frantically flattened them out as much as he could and folded them in what wasn't a very neat display, but it was at least something.

Spamton stood now in the empty bedroom, the poster’s remains pressed tightly to his rapidly beating heart.

…

It was safe to say he was done looking around.

“Well I don't know how you were able to pull it off, but you seemed to make a full recovery.” 

“What?!” Elnina and Lanino exclaimed in unison beside him. Tenna was also surprised, but with an examination at his arms, he could tell the cyber city ambyu-lance was right. What remained on his arms was the obvious scarring, as well as cracks in his arms and shoulders from where the knight’s sword had sliced through the steel and nickel of his exterior. He was honestly surprised it wasn't worse. As expected, the soreness in his wires was gone, and he could twist his arms with minimal discomfort.

“That's amazing!” Elnina celebrated beside him, the rumble of thunder in her clouded hair giving away her excitement. It was an equal mood of her partner as well, where Lanino shone at least a little bit brighter than before in his sunny visage.

“We all knew you would make a quick recovery, Tenna!” Lanino added to the mood in the room.

…That little puppet.

He did this.

“I… wow. Heheh… Well, what can I say?” Tenna reached for his shirt, slipping it back on after the examination and smiling wide. “You can't keep television from airing! Even if the knight themself tries to shut it down!”

“That's right!” Elnina and Lanino chimed in with unison, and Tenna’s grin softened, thankful he'd at least brought someone, even if he could have been doing this alone.

“It is interesting,” The ambyu-lance said. “Did the prince do this level of healing? It looks like a very well put together and well practiced spell.”

“Hmm, can't say for sure!” Tenna stood from the chair he was sitting in and tied his tie around his neck as he talked, thinking of potential excuses that didn't include a weird man creature that could summon little angels of himself for a price. “There was a lot happening, I know both Ralsei and Susie tried to use healing spells on me. But mainly I think it was… everyone who helped me that did this. And I can't thank them enough.”

He tilted his head downward and gingerly took his tailcoat in his hands, before being interrupted with Elnina’s arm around his waist, and he knelt down just in time to embrace the weather duo.

“Awww, you know we would always be around to help you.” Elnina reassured.

“Because remember, from now on, the weather always sticks together!” Lanino added on.

“Including whoever hosts the weather!” Elnina finalized. 

There was so much to think about, by the time the three had left. The fact Tenna didn't have to replace his bandages anymore was a breath of fresh air, as that was one less thing to worry about with everything else.

Elnina and Lanino had left him with a heartfelt goodbye, and he graciously thanked them both for at least being by his side, but also by bringing them, they should help that piece of information get out to the other TV world darkners better. That he had… recovered from all that.

His head was full just thinking about it.

As he parted ways with them, after hearing about the two's proposed plan for a final big celebration-

(‘Yes! No, let's get everyone from TV Time together one night at the cafe to celebrate. One final bang! Oh, you'll talk to Swatch? That sounds like a plan! Yes, I’ll be there, I promise! Wow, I wish Mike was here to see this.’)

-Tenna wanted to now take care of… matters left unsolved.

…

Part of him thought of the addisons he encountered earlier, the way they gathered together when the dots finally clicked for them of who they had as an unwilling customer. The way the blue one… stared. It was as if he'd committed a heinous crime against them all, or if they had something they desperately wanted to share with him. 

Seventy-five percent off everything…

Tenna’s lips pulled together in a tight frown as he remembered his first trek around the city, led by the white addison in front of him. The height of everything was so immense, even for the television darkner, he had no idea how someone as small as Spamton could live with it and not be overwhelmed. Tenna had lived day to day with being the largest darkner in his studio, towering above everyone else, so the size of just the buildings around them all seemed to have him feel minuscule just by comparison. Perhaps this could be a factor in how Spamton felt so comfortable around him? He must have gotten used to it all…

And then,

‘You see those guys over there? They're all scams and complete sellouts. Every single one. Don't buy anything they try to sell you. It's all garbage. Don't talk to them either, they just want to pitch something.'

'Hmm, but they look just like you.'

'But they're NOT me. You're better off just pretending they're voices on the other side of a wall. Believe me on this one, okay? Would I ever steer you wrong?’

And then he did.

…

…

Tenna really didn't want to deal with addisons at the moment. He wanted to get to the bottom of it all, he did, but he was more focused with the puppet man himself. The fact Neo had noticed Tenna was in pain and instantly offered his services despite what the CRT had said to him this morning was… sponsor worthy. Maybe, in addition to money, Tenna could give him something like an apology treat? Something small that would satiate him and make him feel more comfortable in the environment he was in? Something like the treats that were at the café that Elnina and Lanino discussed earlier today.

…

That sounded like a good idea.

They had plenty of darkners over by the TV building, and Tenna would get to it eventually, because he was healed now after all he'd been through. He hadn't thought much about the experience since, as he was just happy to wake to the faces of all his employees and new friends, just grateful he'd survived the knight. Little Ralsei looked the most stunned to see him still conscious and moving, but as Susie continued to speak affirmations that he would not be thrown away and they would find someone to take him, then he was truly in the headspace that he was going to be safe.

He was going to be loved.

He wasn't going to be… forgotten.

…

Tenna couldn't see anything, but consciousness flickered back in through a stream of television static, and that's when he realized he couldn't move his arms, only his legs, and not even very well. Was his screen damaged? Was he able to get up? Respond to his surroundings? The snow around his head and his torso was… cold… as he laid in it, but at least it was a sensation he could put traces of his remaining focus on instead of the fact that something horrible had just happened and he could do nothing to stop it.

Those kids… his kids… Kris, Susie, Ralsei… he needed to get up. He needed to help. He'd made a deal with the knight to give them Toriel, but now… he'd stepped out of line. He'd broken his side of the bargain. And now he couldn't uphold his choices in the path he chose.

…What did he look like? How far was he into being labeled as beyond repair? Would he ever get up after this? How long did he have left of semi consciousness? Were his contestants okay? He needed to help them…! The knight was going to kill them all! He needed to get up! 

…What did he look like?

Get up...

Sometimes he let his mind wander about how he'd appear in the light world. 

Based on what he knew he looked like. Based on what he saw around him. Kris and Asriel jumping on the couch or chasing each other around the house, Kris’s red horned headband sliding off as they chased their brother, based on...

Toriel being the last one sitting in front of him, not paying him any mind, and the discomfort of the dust and cobwebs surrounding his exterior was all he felt.

Don't leave me.

...

I don't want to die.

Don't let me die...!

The snow froze him to the ground, so it seemed, and the back of his head smoked, filling the air around him with a sweet smell of an apple orchard that he couldn't help but breathe in deeply to cling to at least another sensation. The static didn't reside, and after one last attempt to lift himself with arms he didn't have, he…

Please don't let me die!

…

Tenna realized he'd walked into town.

That memory seemed to restrict him in its bubble whenever he thought about it, like a terrible dream he was unable to escape and unable to feature or broadcast. It was the type of memory that made his screen go dark, and one that made the air seem colder in his chest as he resisted the urge to inhale more of it in. It was similar to an air of hopelessness… but one that was more… doomed. For the lack of a better word.

Hell, he could never announce these feelings and experiences to any audience member. Surely they'd dismiss him immediately for it all. Any additional problems for a TV with multiple other issues is enough to warrant being deemed unfixable.

Clearing his throat and straightening his posture to ward off the encroachment of disturbing images that were a slideshow in his head, Tenna continued on with his venture, not to the TV building, but to the cafe.

It was time to distract himself with something good. Yes, good. He was going to get the little puppet in his room something to thank him properly.

Ducking just enough underneath the doorway, he stepped into the building, which was a decently sized place. There were a few darkners sitting at tables, and an empty stage off to the far left of the cafe. The staff consisted of some swatchlings and also… maus (If Tenna remembered correctly from his Cyber World travels?) serving drinks and small dishes. To his right were more tables, a bar that looped around, and the head of staff operating the register. Behind them was a large menu of different snacks and drinks. 

There were so… many options now. What happened to menus with the same five items on them that patrons never got tired of? Simple and reliable and always there.

Tenna shook off the thought and approached the register, where the head of staff was cleaning a glass with a pink cloth that read ‘S.P.’. Their initials, as the cafe manager was easily recognizable from how Tenna remembered them from his tours in the city. 

“Swatch Paletta, I thought that was you! From the color cafe!”

Swatch looked up at him, and with a courteous slight smile, set the glass aside. 

“Mr. Tenna, how nice to see you again. I assume you're doing well. Welcome to Castle Town.”

“Thank you, glad to be here! There's so many darkners here, it's definitely different from the TV studio.” Tenna gestured outwardly with his hands.

“Yes, it comes a little as a shock at first, definitely. It's a bit of adjusting, some homesickness from time to time, but there's always a surplus of new faces. I do suspect that some of your zappers could be brewing conflict with my swatchlings, however. But I’ve talked to the palette and have instructed them to find ways to coexist.”

“Oh the zappers will get used to them,” Tenna waved it off and leaned an arm on the counter. “They just have a bit of an issue dealing with things they can't control.”

“I find myself in the same predicament sometimes these days,” Swatch chuckled. “Please, have a seat, we're typically slow before the night life comes in for performances and I'd like to catch up if you have time.”

Tenna obliged, taking a seat a couple seats down from the register, shrinking himself enough so that his knees didn't bump the wall of the counter as he sat on the stool.

“Would you like a coffee?”

“Oh, no. I'm alright,” Tenna put his hands up in a dismissive gesture. “Actually I came in here to order something for-” He's not a friend. “...someone that helped me out a great deal lately.”

“Well, then you've come to the perfect place.” Swatch replied, their voice calm and lined with an air of hospitality. “What do they happen to like? We have a variety of options.”

“What would you recommend? Just generally. I don't know him very well.”

“I’m forewarning you that most of our menu is in a transitional period of becoming… cat themed, but we have a popular rising dessert already. Nobody can resist our cherry-almond paw macarons. It's an almond base with a cherry purée and white chocolate ganache. The swatchlings insisted we restructure them to look like cat paws.”

He might like those.

“Could I take a box?”

“Absolutely.”

As Swatch put an order into the kitchen of the cafe, Tenna drummed his fingers on the countertop. Looking up at the menu, he noticed there was a small separate menu for a select number of drinks containing Queen’s battery acid as a main ingredient. 

Tenna had been given a couple of bottles as a castle-room-warming gift of sorts by his neighbor, who slung her arm across his shoulder (and managed to pull him down enough to do so), excited to see him since they had all been introduced decades ago. One of her employees at that time, her new royal salesman, had been sneaking glances at him all through the night, and when they were properly introduced, the rest… was history. This was the man he was told to reach out to.

Their nights together consuming the stuff had been all the rage. He'd never felt more youthful and careless. It was liberating and he… really wanted to experience it again. Feeling those small hands on the sides of his screen, breath warm and drowned in an encapsulating inebriation, where their purpose was to please and their function was to drown out their purpose. His hands full of jet-black hair. Silencing the stress of the day with their whispered, lulling conversations as the mailman made him feel adored and desired-

“Taking a look at our battery acid selection, Mr. Tenna?”

“Just curious. Reminiscing, is all!” Tenna came back to the present, crossing his hands over the bar. It was best to get back into a normal conversation after that recent thought passed. “Do you happen to remember those parties of ours? It was around the late nineties?”

“How could I forget?” Swatch had a slight smile on their face. “It was on me to watch over my lady so she wouldn't confuse her ‘throwing glass’ and her ‘extra dangerous glass’. Last thing I'd need is for someone from a different dark world to get charred in the chaos. It was actually her idea to include some drinks in the cafe, though she allowed my swatchlings and I some creative liberties.”

“You know, I could barely recognize you without that mohawk you used to have. At least when you visited my dark world for the first time with her.”

“Ah, so someone remembers it. How I thought I was safe from the public memory regarding that… lifestyle choice.” They blushed in embarrassment, humorously cringing, but remained cordial. “Now I believe others were just practicing their politeness around me.”

“Of course not! It was fun! Flashy and forward, enough to attract the eyes of any viewer at first glance. Though, I still think the monochrome with colored accents spoke out to me the most. Like my first thought was: someone like that needs to be on television! We never ended up with any contestants that matched up with the vision very well. I was still racing back and forth, trying to teach our fashion department tips and tricks before the lightners showed up.”

“I see. Well, it isn't like I have the look trademarked. In fact, there's… some out there who have decided to go as far as to try and imitate it for nefarious means, but that was just a special case,” Tenna watched as their eyes narrowed as they prepared an empty box. Almost immediately, their eyes closed and they seemed to gather themself. “Though I always welcome new interpretations to my design since then. Still, you'd think that imitation is the highest form of flattery.”

Nefarious means…

and how the swatchlings hate him… 

…

How he's dressed does look a lot like how Swatch dresses. Or it's definitely inspired. I should ask about this more when I can.

“Like your dual-colored glasses?”

Swatch paused, and without looking up, spoke clearly and intentionally.

“...Precisely. Yes.”

They said that too slowly, as if they hadn't expected him to bring up the glasses as being a part of the look they were describing, but Tenna had been so quick to narrow them down. No doubt Swatch knew something about his new puppet-like roommate, but how much could he get away with telling them? 

How… much trouble is he in with his world’s darkners? What happened with him that warrants what I saw yesterday?

“See…! That doesn't sound fun at all. You wouldn't believe all the dramatics my past employees put me through. Pippins gambling on the job, some of my shadowguys playing the instruments from our music video segments,” Tenna gestured with his hands. “...I miss it, almost. Or you get to missing it, hahaha! Just the shenanigans of those around you, causing trouble, having to put a stop to all of it.” Tenna laughed and glanced again at the battery acid menu.

There was one that looked appetizing. It was a sparkling drink with peach in it. 

He was interrupted when a small white box with a neon pink label was slid in front of him by Swatch. Oh, the macarons must have been prepared while he was talking.

“Here you are. I hope your friend enjoys them.”

He's… not my friend. They probably just made a mistake. It happens.

“Thank you, Swatch. Hey, if I could ask for one more thing, for me, I'm curious about this.” Tenna pointed at the battery acid cocktail on the menu.

“That's our 'Static & Nectar' drink. Queen’s battery acid with peach and some floral undertones. Would you like to try it? I find it to be one of my favorites. Though it is a little strong.”

Tenna fixed his tie before gesturing with one hand. “Why not? I haven't had something like it in quite a while.”

“Coming right up, Mr. Tenna.” Swatch nodded and got to work making the drink behind the counter. 

There was a pause between the two as Tenna continued to think about the puppet. How reluctant he was to disclose details about Spamton, aside from the main draw being that he'd succeeded in the end. Swatch knew him too at one point, maybe... he could...

“Say...! speaking of old times," Tenna started, clearing his throat and tapped the counter. "How is the big shot doing nowadays? Haven't heard from him in a while."

Tenna expected a lot of things to follow that, but an immediately sour look taking over the previously calm countenance of the cafe manager was not one of them. 

"...We don't talk about him anymore," Swatch spoke with an air of darkness and resentment, as if just the sheer mention touched a nerve. Tenna noticed the feathers on their neck bristled just enough to be noticeable, but it was only for a second at best. "I hope you can understand."

...What's that about? 

What happened?

"Oh, I was just asking! Seeing everyone here, he just popped in my mind! But if he's out of the question, I get it."

I should press. They KNOW something.

What happened for Swatch to not want to talk about him? They used to be so close.

"I appreciate it and I apologize." Swatch finally cleared the air with a returning smile, even if it was faint.

It's probably similar if not the same thing that happened to me. He left them without an explanation. Maybe that phone call was his... big break. 

Good. Good riddance. I hope you're happy.

Look at all the hurt you've caused.

"How are you otherwise?” Swatch inquired politely, seemingly in a need to change the subject now. “I heard about your encounter with the knight.”

“O-oh that little action sequence? Right! Everyone's been asking me about that recently.”

“It's just surprising. I'm very pleased if not honored to have you in my cafe. Not every darkner could defy them and come back from it.”

“Hey, it didn't come without its consequences. It was only a bit ago I found out any injuries I've sustained are fully healed. Who can top that!?”

“I see,” Swatch hummed as he poured what were the additional flavors of his drink into a shaker. After it was properly mixed, they poured the drink into a glass with ice already in it. “So I take it you coming here is a celebration?”

“The actual celebration comes later. Have you met my weather crew? Elnina and Lanino?”

“Ah, yes.” Swatch said with a smile as they gently placed the drink in front of Tenna. “They came into my café this morning. Those lovebirds must be quite a handful. Still, I thought they were very charming.”

“They're going to plan a celebration later, hopefully we could get the cafe reserved one of these nights?”

“I don't see why not. It's the least I can do for an old acquaintance. I'm pleased to hear you've improved physically.”

“Thank you,” Tenna said before he took a drink. For the love of the light, that was strong. But it was flavorful and tasted of… nights that only existed anymore in his memory. “I'm doing my best! There were some things he couldn't fix.”

“I see. Must have been quite the healing spell. Courtesy of... your friend?”

Tenna took another drink, the conductive contents of it feeling like it brought more brightness and color to his screen.

He's not my friend.

“I'm not sure. A lot was happening while I was out and it could have been either Susie or Ralsei’s healing or… anything, really! A lot of it is a blur from when I woke up being repaired.”

“I hadn't considered that. Pardon my intrusive questioning, I'm just very intrigued. The knight is an interesting foe, they'd certainly kept our Queen busy a few light-world days ago with our own dark fountain. And now we're all here.”

And now we're all here.

“And now we're all here,” Tenna repeated both Swatch and his thoughts. He sighed dejectedly and finished his drink over the course of the next few minutes. Part of him wanted to order another, but… it was best he stop at one.

“It was good catching up with you, Swatch.” Tenna smiled at the cafe manager before returning his glass. “We should talk again sometime, but I have to get back.”

“Surely,” Swatch replied. “Also, because I'm getting a lot of questions from your dark world inhabitants, the cafe is temporarily accepting points, but everything needs to be converted into dark dollars come the next couple days. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“No, don't apologize,” Tenna got up from his spot at the bar to pay at the register. “Barely anybody got the chance to convert before the dark world merge. Everything moves so fast! So that helps us out a lot.”

After paying, Tenna took the box of macarons and turned to leave.

“One second, Mr. Tenna. Quick question for you,”

Tenna turned back, looking down at the monochromed bird darkner. 

“Did Master Kris have their multicolored glasses when they left the dark world? They are bright pink and yellow ones, if I may specify.”

Tenna’s screen shorted to static for a millisecond, and he hated how he was aware of the visual tell with his screen’s increased temperature due to the drink.

“You know," Tenna started, a hand on his hip. He hesitated as if he was thinking but then waved it off with a laugh. "Haha! I could have sworn they had them, but I actually don't know for sure! There were so many outfits on set to keep track of! Sorry, I wish I could help with that one.”

Am I covering for him? Why?

He knew why. He just hoped he was convincing. It was an answer that was at least realistic, and didn't put him under too much suspicion.

“...Understood. Well then, I hope you have a good day. And stay safe."

Still, Tenna left feeling like he should have pressed the cafe manager for more information about that last little detail.

Chapter Text

Upon his return to the castle, Tenna hadn't known what to expect, screen flickering nervously as he picked up the pace with every thought that popped into his head. The puppet was hiding something, and there had been a chance to figure it out. The farther he walked away from the cafe, the more irritated he became at himself for not pressing for more answers from Swatch. What else was he going to accomplish if he didn't press?! Or at least attempt to relate in order to find out what was going on.

Their reaction to him. It tells me all I need to know. Spamton used them up just as he used me. 

He couldn't press. He knew what it was like. Just the name, no, he hadn't even said his name, just what he was associated with. That's all it took.

...

What did he even owe that little freak anyway?! This wasn't worth it! Details and whereabouts on Spamton wasn't worth it, was it? He wasn't even sure why he was doing this to find out! Spamton wouldn't be doing this for him if their roles were reversed! And another thing! Tenna was just going to find out that the Big Shot was better off without him! All this frustration and for what?! Just to feel worse for trying? 

No one would talk about Spamton, and he did not want to resort to crawling to the addisons for insight and explanation. That would have to be the case if he couldn't get the puppet to talk to him. Tenna had to get answers tonight, ‘wrong impression’ and ‘dramatics-free’ be damned. 

Who would have guessed it'd only take a couple of sentences for the macarons he carried to turn from a friendly gift to a potential bribe.

No, that'd be stooping low. That'd chase him away. Pulling away a reward just because I need something? 

Actually... that's a good idea.

No, it's not. You gotta sweet talk him onto your side, not do that. Don't stoop to Spamton's level. Remember. You're better than that.

But, when he got back to their shared space, he looked a little… haggard, to say the least.

“H;hEY HEY [[Trash Heap]], GOOD TO [be seeing you] BACK IN [[worse and worse condition]],” Neo was laying on the couch, hands crossed behind his head and a leg kicked up over his opposite knee. “SAAAAY, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MORE OF THOSE [microwavable] DINNERS YOU KEEP IN THE FRIDGE, DO YA?”

“What?” Tenna slipped off the bright red jacket, laying it over the couch. “I had at least a week’s worth in there, I thought that'd be enough for now. I'm still unpacking and haven't had the chance to make anything.”

“YEAH WELL,” Neo shrugged. “YOU NEED [[more than that]]. IT'S A [[table for two]] NOW, AFTER ALL.”

Without another word, Tenna rapidly but curiously made his way over towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and, sure enough… the little darkner had eaten enough for at least several days. On top of everything else he'd had to deal with today, this moocher was hiding away, and eating all his food.

However, it wasn't like Tenna was very hungry, so he just closed the door with more force than he was used to. No, he needed something stronger after today. It was a tragedy he'd only had the one drink when talking to Swatch. He felt he'd be more stable with more than that.

Tenna heard the puppet walk into the kitchen from behind him and clenched the edge of the kitchen counter, tossing the box of macarons onto it, where it slid into a corner.

“YOU’RE [[Quiet on set!]]. WHAT’s GOT YOUR [[wires]] IN A TWIST, HUH? YOU SAID I COULD [can't help myself]!!”

“You know this isn't your home, right? You can't just eat all the food I have! Just because you want!”

“WHAT? I CAN’T [access to nourishment] NOW?? THEY WERE [open for availability]!! YOU SAID I COULD [[press x for help]] MYSELF!!! YOU DIDN’T EVEN LABEL THEM.”

“I don't need to! No one knows you're here except me! You're not even…!” Tenna spun around and pressed his finger down on the kitchen island as he leaned over it to scold the little puppet. “You're not even supposed to be here! You're just a… well I still don't know what you are, that's the thing, and you're not going to tell me so why do I even keep wondering about it if you're not going to tell me?”

“...HAVE YOU BEEN [drinking]?” 

Is it obvious?

“Funny you should mention that! I had ONE. And you know what? I went to talk to Swatch today, know them? They told me a lot more than what you have, for someone who ‘knows where Spamton is’.” Tenna air quoted the last part, then turned back around and opened a cabinet above the fridge, taking one of his castle-room-warming battery acid bottles from the stock. The television darkner didn't know he'd be using his gift right now for the purpose of numbing all the feelings he experienced today, but here he was. Intending on doing just that.

Of course what he told Neo was a lie. Tenna didn't get any new information about his mailman, but maybe it was something that could get this puppet talking. The little darkner already looked petrified for some reason after Tenna’s air quoted comment, and was nervously clutching the ends of his coat.

“HEAHEAHA… WHAT’D THEY SAY?”

“Oh they told me so much! About how he left and about he was always on his stupid phone. And you know what? You’re barely telling me anything. You know, by the standards of this whole arrangement? I should be letting Swatch room with me instead of you!” 

“YOU [[Wouldn’t pass up an exclusive offer]].” 

“Well you know if they did offer then I would! You'd be out of here so fast,” Tenna grabbed a glass from another cabinet and poured himself a quick glass of the straight battery acid, not waiting for a second to pass before it was down the hatch. He wiped his lip with the back of his wrist and continued, not allowing Neo the pleasure of a word in when he was talking. “You'd be wondering why the door didn't even hit you on the way out.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I [Mint Condition]!! I MEANT TO SAY. YOU. WOULDN’T.” Neo rolled his eyes.

“Oh I bet I would.” One more glass poured. Tenna twirled the liquid around in the glass at least before taking a drink. “They'd at least fulfill their end of the deal and wouldn't take my bed.”

“YOU DIDN’T [see the teller] ME NOT TO!” The puppet grabbed a chair, scooting it over to the island to climb up on it and at least, from what it looked like, get some height so as to stand his ground against the taller darkner. 

“Yes I did, I asked you–”

“THAT’S NOT TELLING ME, YOU DAMN [[raytube box]]!!”

“I shouldn't have to! This is my room, and I make the rules around here because I deserve it!”

“SO YOUR WHOLE ‘OH WE GOT OFF ON THE WRONG [[Shoe Size: Invalid]]’ THING FROM THE [Can't go without my Morning Coffee] WAS A LIE RIGHT?!? YOUR WHOLE ‘[Starter] OVER’ PLAN FOR ME?? YOUR [re-do] FIRST [impersons] WITH YOUR [[$#!%TY]] RULES?!?”

“You're not telling me everything either! Maybe I feel I should go back to some rules!”

“I [seed] HOW IT IS. YOU HAVE A TALK WITH A [little bird told me] AND SUDDENLY YOU THINK I’M [[Withholding information]].”

“Yes! That's exactly how it is! That's exactly what you're doing!” Tenna finished his drink and poured another, then angrily pointed at Neo with the hand holding the drink before slamming it on the counter.

“WELL AT LEAST I HAVEN’T BEEN [[You're Lying]] TO YOU! KEEPING ME IN A FALSE [[fresh Scent]] OF SECURITY!! I’VE DONE [nothing] BUT BE A [Crucified Saint], HEALING YOUR [[market.deficits]]!! AND THAT DUMB, pr3ttENCIOUS [Color wheel settings] CAN JUST RUIN EVERYTHING BECAUSE THEY HAVE [pronouns & opinions] OF            ?!” 

“Stop trying to pin this whole thing on them! Just tell me what happened to Spamton! Tell me why you posed as him! Tell me ANYTHING! I deserve to know after what I've been through! You have no idea what it's even been like!”

“I HAVE NO IDEA?!” A glitch took over Neo’s already reddening face and almost knocked him off the chair with his shift in balance. The colors in his glasses glitched back and forth and he tried shaking his head, the pixels coming together after a bit.

“WELL IF GETTING YOUR [[ass handed]] TO YOU BY A                    RESULTS IN A [1 bed 1 bath Suite No Money Down], THEN WITH WHAT I'VE [been] THROUGH, I DESERVE THIS MORE THAN YOU!!1!1!” Neo snatched the bottle of battery acid off the countertop. “YOU SHOULDN’T BE [[Drinks on the House]] ANYWAY WITH HOW YOU GET WHEN YOUR’E [[alcohol test results]].”

“And how would you know how I get?! You don't get information like that from TV! As if I’d even allow Mike to broadcast anything like that.” Tenna reached for the bottle, which seemed to be a poor move, as the evasive puppet turned away from him, keeping the bottle out of his reach.

“IF YOU [[Talk about it here]] TO MY [Cohorts], THEN I GET TO [networking opportunityes] WITH YOURS!!! THEY TOLD ME YOU’RrE A [[emotional]] SLOPPY [Drunk].”

“Who said that?!”

“EAHAHEAHEA,” Neo sneered at him. “YOU’D THINK I’D JUST [[Tell it like it is]] YOU SO EASILY?? I’M SUPPOSED TO BE [withholding.funds]."

Oh whoever it is… If they weren’t already fired then they would be now. I bet it was Ramb, he's always talking to the contestants. I haven't seen him since we left though.

“BUT WHATEVER! YOU’RE NOT [[getting this]] BACK UNTIL YOU [inform your local]–.. TELL. ME. WHAT DID [[Easels]] TELL YOU?!”

Wait a second.

“Easels? The one… you fooled? Into thinking you were him? That Easels?”

Neo’s eyes widened and he became stiff as his jaw snapped shut. As if he'd let out a piece of information rather kept silent.

Yup. That Easels. 

What does he know that he's not telling me? 

If Swatch thinks they're the same... then anything they'd tell me... wouldn't be real. Just something this puppet made up to trick them. Right? Oh, this is all making my head hurt. Why doesn't it add up?

After a moment of silence between the two of them, the puppet looked from the bottle back to Tenna, then scoffed and scowled at him before taking the bottle and bringing it up to his mouth, beginning to drink it as quickly as he could. 

“H-hey! Stop that!” Tenna exclaimed, and grew enough to easily reach across the counter and snatch the bottle away from the now much smaller darkner, who glitched when the battery acid was removed from his hands. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“WHAT AM I DOING?! I [just] DON’T [[get the point, buckaroo?]] WHY YOU’D GO TO THAT BIRD IN THE [First place award]!!!”

“It's because you're not being helpful at all!”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WH4;tT YOUR [[problem worth solving]] IS!! I TOLD [you] WHAT HE’S DOING!! HE’S A [Big Shot]! HE DOESN’T NEED [[Old CRTs]] HOLDING HIM BACK!! YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW [anything else?]!!”

Old. 

Old CRTS.

“Ohh now I see. That's why Spamton sent you to do all his dirty work for him. Stage yourself pathetically like him. He's always doing that. Always using people. He can’t do anything himself, so he just uses everyone around him to get what he wants.” 

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID. SEE?! YOU’RE [doing it] AGAIN!” Neo said with a bite in his words, as if what Tenna said exacerbated the already sour mood. But he wasn't. finished.

“So what? If ‘old CRTs’-” Another air quote, flimsier than the last one, “Held him back, who's his new co-host, huh? Who’s worth it to throw everything we had away for, huh? Who is-” Tenna straightened up, and stumbled slightly as he removed himself from the support of the countertop. Okay, maybe the acid was a little stronger than intended, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Still, a light blush resembling colored bars graced his screen. “Who is helping him run his sales, huh? B-because he can't do it himself. I know that. He knows that. Eevveryone with half the knowledge of the real knockout stars around here know that.”

“AND WHAT IF HE CAN NOW?! EVER [[Thought about investing in our new currency?]] ABOUT THAT?! HE DOESN’T NEED TO [use and abuse] ANYBODY!” Neo practically leaped onto the counter, making another attempt for the bottle, even with a glitch distorting the features of the lower half of his face, pixels clipping behind as he dashed forward. “HE [Can] DO IT HIMSELF! AND DOESN'T NEED A OVERSIZED [[microwave]] WITH [commitment issues]!”

Ouch.

“Hey, he's the one that ran out on me! HE'S the one that couldn't commit! Last I knew him, he was too much of a selfish, narcissistic, too-high-on-his-own-ego Big Shot! To at least help me! Further his career! THAT I BUILT FOR HIM! He needed me. Without me who knows how far he would have gotten?! Probably not far at all. Without MY help?? He’d probably be booted back to being stuck as one of those scammy addisons or whatever! Nothing more, nothing less! Not even being able to get one measly foot off the ground!"  

Tenna took a step back, growing just enough to have his antenna graze the ceiling as he kept the bottle away from the puppet below. The television darkner watched as Neo’s brow furrowed and his face scrunched up in rage. He was visibly trembling, and his face was dark red. He looked like he could be near steaming if not steaming already.

“He couldn't do anything without me, you know, we made a good team! But it just wasn't good enough for-”

Neo then picked up Tenna’s last discarded drink, poured but unfinished, downed it himself, and chucked the glass at the CRT’s head. Tenna let out a surprised gasp before turning enough so the glass shattered on the side of his head rather than the screen. On impact, he yelped out a static-filled "Ow!" and gripped that side of his head, readjusting his footing only to hear the shattered glass on the ground crunch underneath his shoe.

Tenna whipped back around to look at the puppet, taken aback by the sudden attack while rubbing a hand where the glass struck. 

Neo breathed shakily in hisses through his clenched teeth, his chest heaving and eyes drowning in an unbridled fury. 

Why… did he do that?

“W-why'd you do that?” Tenna stammered out in surprise, echoing his thoughts.

No response from the smaller darkner, though he had let his jaw crack open just slightly enough to appear like he was going to say something back. But he never did. Tenna just heard him continue to try to catch his breath as he continued to stare daggers at him.

“Why did you do that?” Tenna repeated himself, his voice more stable as the walked towards Neo. He gestured openly with his hands, the battery acid from the bottle audibly sloshing in its container. “You c-could have cracked my screen or done something worse!”

Nothing. But as Tenna got closer, Neo’s fury looked more animalistic than anything. The way his eye twitched under those lenses was concerning but-

I'm not scared of him.

“What is wrong with you–?!”

The TV darkner was cut off by the puppet running forward and yanking his tie down, causing Tenna to let out a small gasp of surprise. Thinking fast, he put his hands on the counter to catch himself as he hunched over it. He was then grabbed by his collar when enough in the smaller man’s reach, and yanked further down to his level. Tenna stared down at him as Neo glared back, the ends of their noses pressed comically together. 

Tenna knew he could pull away at any time, but the ferocity of this new unusual roommate of his had startled him. Why was he being so defensive over Spamton? Of all darkners, Spamton?

They stayed like that for a second, the smaller one’s shaking grip strong and adamant on both ends of Tenna’s collar. Like he knew he was at a disadvantage but didn't care.

They were so close, Tenna could feel the other’s breath on his screen even through Neo’s tightly closed teeth. However, as Tenna stared into his eyes, behind the mirrored lenses, and behind the rage, there was something barely missable. It first registered as pain.

Neo took an unsteady breath in before speaking, the only sound to interrupt their previous pattern of venom-filled silence that had lingered for longer than it should have.

“HOW. GOOD. OF A TEAM. WERE YOU BOTH. IF. IT NEVER. EVEN. GOT TO. LAST?”

As if he couldn't have been more stunned, Tenna’s screen illuminated just a little brighter at the unexpected question, then his brow crinkled in contemplation.

Not good enough for him! 

He never respected us, that's why he was so quick to scam me and leave! I just wanted what he had! Was that so bad?!

Why'd he leave me? Wasn't I doing such a good job? That's what he told me…

He lied, he lies. It's what he does. It's part of who he is.

He lied.

He left.

Wasn't I doing good?

I'm not important to him.

Tenna let his mind wander to his little mailman, who stood on the surface of the vanity in his dressing room as he stood in front of it, and watched him with a somber smile as Spamton excitedly rambled about the sales he was making in Cyber City like it was the weekly report. Spamton was also doing his tie for him. Not because he needed to, but because…

‘You needed a Big Shot seal of approval before the spotlight seals it for me. You know it isn't just handed out to anyone.’

Spamton smoothed down his shirt and lightly straightened out his collar, making sure it was neat and folded, each wrinkle of fabric landing right where it was supposed to be, as if the cameras would be quick to pick up potential errors. Knowing those shuttahs, that very much could be the case.

Live on camera in a few minutes, Tenna was supposed to be readying himself, performing vocal warmups, practicing some delivery on his lines, checking his posture… his audience needed true entertainment tonight, but his little mailman treated him like he was a natural. He was, by all means, but for Spamton to keep him like this, just before he was set to walk out felt…

Like he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. Just like this.

‘So… how DO I get that seal of approval? It sounds exclusive.’

‘Well, why don't you get a little closer and let me show you, big guy?’

Spamton had spoken softly as he slid his fingers from the collar to Tenna's tie, wrapped his hand around it leisurely, and tugged him downward, tilting his head to the side before gently kissing him. He worked with a careful confidence, and Tenna fell right in. The light from Tenna’s screen flickered before dimming, and Spamton, in turn, closed his eyes as they both melted into each other’s tenderness.

Thinking of his chosen star's motivations now, this would have felt like a transaction, a swift and efficient business decision that would have Tenna swooning into Spamton's perfect plan for furthering his career. But at the time... it was different. He felt vulnerable, not used. Wanted. Not expendable.

The salesman’s lips were delicate as they pressed into his own and tasted of the drinks they just had before the show tonight. A slight tang of sweetness lingered, leftover from the sugared rim of their glasses. Tenna was going to get out there as a blushing grinning mess, and had to reorient himself for the show, but for now, in the few seconds he had, he'd savor this until the credits rolled. He felt like his dressing room lights had silenced themselves, just enough to offer the two their moment of solace, of passion, and the spotlight was a far away image as Tenna savored the feeling of being so adored, so glorified, so cared for, and so… appreciated.

It wasn't fair that Spamton essentially had everything he'd ever needed out of the industry, even if it was Tenna's advice that got him to that point, but someday… someday… they'd be on top of the world together. He'd be Big with him. At least, that's what this moment had meant to Tenna at the time...

But as his screen slowly flickered back to full brightness, he only saw this puppet-like oddity in front of him, large blocky teeth bared and clamped shut, eyes adorned with nothing but hate. The scuffed red painted cheeks didn't nearly resemble the light blush that Spamton had before in the slightest.

An overwhelming pit of grief enveloped Tenna’s chest, making him think that not even the contents of the bottle would be enough to make it go away if he finished it tonight. It stung with an ache that made him remember he was here and Spamton… wasn't. His mailman had truly moved on.

…

…

“We were the best. He was… so, so important to me.”

The puppet tensed, his scrunched and vengeful expression faltering as he continued to look up into the screen.

“I don't… knnow why he left.” Tenna caught his words slurring just enough for him to notice it, but he didn't care. “But maybe he did find someone better. I don't know. I wish he just… told me he didn't want me anymore. I wish anyone would tell me they didn't want me anymore, but it hurt the worst with him.”

His throat felt tight, he couldn't say anything more without sounding like he was going to start sobbing.

…

“...That… lying bastard. I know the answers I get will make me feel worse about losing him, but I just can't take it…” There it was, just as he predicted, the subtle shakes from his shoulders had started and he could just tell the static trails accumulating on the sides of his screen showed he had started crying. Tears, although not physical outside of the monitor, streamed down his face, and his size steadily decreased as the anger ebbed away. 

The puppet let go of his collar, and stepped away from him, keeping his eyes seemingly anywhere else as he visibly frowned, brow furrowed as if he was in deep thought.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“HOW MUCH OF THAT [[100% Battery Acid All Ages Appropriate]] DO YOU HAVE LEFT?”

Tenna paused, breath catching as he hadn't expected that response.

“This and two other bottles. Why?”

Neo side-glanced him and sighed, an uneasy smile spreading across his face. “YOU NEED TO [[Take a load off with this all expenses paid]]. AND WE MIGHT NEED THEM.”

“[[28 flavors, enough to savor, it’s a big time curtain raiser!]]–”

“That drink that everyone craves-”

“[[TasteSaver soda’s]]-”

“The taste that ssaves!” 

Spamton held Tenna’s shoulder, the TV darkner leaning on him as he swayed slightly, a near empty bottle of battery acid gripped loosely in his hand. Trying to keep his footing on the coffee table, Spamton’s feet continuously shuffled as he leaned back against Tenna, an even wider smile on his face. The television darkner was happily laughing and snickering through his nose after singing the advertisement along with Spamton’s ad breaks, his drunken color-bar blush now spread completely over his screen.

He'd honestly forgot how they'd gotten to this point. It started off with him dismissing their previous conversation, passing the bottle(s) around and just… talking. About Tenna’s TV time, about commercials back in the day, then it turned into Spamton’s ad speech, how it worked (or rather how it didn't work) and then Tenna heard one he really liked and remembered. Now they were here.

Thankfully so, because Spamton had really thought that his little ruse had been outed when [Easels] was brought into the equation. Tenna had been lying to him, and still knew nothing, but he'd detected that rather quickly and glossed over what he could. Next time Tenna had… the idea to talk to one of those cyber darkners… he'd have to find a way to tag along as damage control. So that he wouldn't be caught blubbering for an excuse and at least would know when to... bail. 

“Ohh I loved that one! I should- should bring it back. When I- ahaha…! When I get back on the air! Wait, wait, wait. Okay. Do another one. Come on, d-do another one. How about the one for the… which one was it?” Tenna let out a exaggerated exhale, leaning his head against Spamton’s shoulder and sloppily snapping a few times with his free hand. “Run a… run away? Run a… sssomething. It's insurance.”

“EAHEAHEAHEA I DON’;tT RrEM  EMBBER. I CAN [[tried]].” 

Maybe just list off the first word and hope it pops up. Come on, you stupid ad speech. Do your job.

“RUN [[Around Town]]-” Nope. “RUN A [Scammed Identity? Call The # On Your Screen]-”

“No, that's not it… I don't think-”

“NO IT>s n;0T. [Hold pls]. SOMETIMES IT WORKS. IT’S [[Running your own credit card scheme? Here's Some Tips:]]-” Fuck! “-[[Run-A-Car-Since Insurance saves you amounts you never thought possible]]”

“That's the one! That one!” Tenna let out a single laugh and swayed in a something like a dance, grabbing Spamton’s wrist and slightly swinging him along, Spamton struggling to catch up with his clumsy footwork. Tenna’s drunken excitement about the success of Spamton recalling the ad got him to shoot up a couple feet in height quickly, making it really look like he was toying with a life-sized doll below, even deciding to spin him in place at some point. Spamton could disregard the irony in that right now, due to how carefree he felt in the moment, but later who knew if it would sting?

“Haven't run! my! car since! Need some good in-sur-ance!"

"[Save some money, save your dime]-!"

"And run your car insurrred this time!”

“AHEAEHEAEAHEA!! WH[Y]_Y’D THEY [[take it off!]] OFF THE [daily broadcasting]??” Spamton cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Tenna, noticing how he was looking at him too. The world was dizzy and muffled, but the larger darkner’s heartwarming expression made the partial pink hue of his dealmakers all the more vibrant.

“I don't know. I thought it was catchy. One of the classics… lost to time,” Tenna chuckled, it getting ever sadder the longer it went on. “I guess I can relate.”

“EH, JOIN THE [[Club premium subscriptions]]. THE [discount codes] CAN ONLY BUG YOU FOR SO LONG. THERE’S [Bigger than the Competing Brands] THINGS TO BE.” Spamton drunkenly stumbled near the edge of the coffee table, only for Tenna to prevent his fall by keeping him on his toes by the wrist he was holding.

“Hey, careful! You think we have a stunt double for you backstage just lying around?” 

“RIGHT, right, GUESS I [[should have]] THOUGHT [[Twice the Charm]] BEFORE GETTING Mm;Myy Y [Silly Strings] [[Sliced and Diced!]]. REALLY [reformulates] MY BALANCE.”

“Heheh… I get it. It's puppet humor, right?”

“WHAT? Oh. yYEAH.” Spamton replied, and was lowered enough to have his feet fully planted on the table, but he was still in danger of toppling over at any time. He hadn't drank that much in years, or had this much… fun? Not even with… the Neo robot. For the few seconds he had before it turned into an existential nightmare.

“What? Isn't that what you are? You wouldn't tell me…”

“I… [forget] S0m3ttIMES. I s;SHOULDN’T. HELL, I’VE b-BEEN LIKE THIS Ffffor [[decadiums]] BUT-” A glitch coursed through his head, and he tore his wrist away from Tenna’s grasp, clutching his scalp to hopefully stabilize the massive contortion early on. Already with his balance hindered, he felt himself toppling backward–

He felt his waist be firmly secured, and what surprised him next was that he hadn't hit the ground, but instead was scooped up in Tenna’s arm by his waist as the glitch made its decline. The way it did, combined with the high battery acid content in his system now, made the world around him pulse with horrible, seizing breaks of his vision as his head came back together, pixel by pixel. 

He was holding him so close, and Spamton couldn't help but to look up at him wishing he was at least held closer. 

“UGGGHHH…” Spamton groaned as he rubbed his temples. “NEVER [let me] DO THIS AG4inn… STUPID [censors].”

“Sorry,” Tenna mumbled, genuinely sounding remorseful, before setting him on the ground, much to the chagrin of the puppet himself. “Maybe we should stop?”

“NnOT UNTIL-” Eyeing the bottle Tenna had, the puppet snatched it from his hand, and before Tenna could object and take it back, Spamton made the best effort he could to chug the rest, not stopping until the bottle was barren of it’s supply of its mind-numbing nectar.

He then flipped it over, gave it a hardy shake, watched the last drop ‘plip’ onto the floor, and then let it slide through his fingers as he dropped it, the bottle making a small ‘thunk’ on the linoleum. Spamton then looked back up in triumph. “AAaalLL thE [[Evidence logged]] HAS BEEN [disposed] OF!”

Tenna looked down, surprised at him, his blush flickering in color along with the rest of his screen, before he snorted, letting out a small chuckle-hiccup of amusement. “Couldn't have said it better myself.”

Still, the fact neither of them could keep eachother upright anymore factored into the end of the night’s festivities, and Spamton took Tenna’s hand, supporting the too-tall stumbling darkner (as best he could without being toppled over) as they both left toward the bedroom. Tenna flopped on one side of the bed, propping himself up by leaning on the headboard. Spamton following suite on the other side, but leaned against Tenna’s arm, keeping his palm against the side of his head as small glitches glimmered across his face. 

He had immediately felt the consequences of that last downing of battery acid, and his vision swirled. He wondered if Tenna was going through something similar with how groggy and loose he appeared to be, hell, his antennas were basically swinging around with each of his movements with no structure to them at all. 

I wonder if he's more wasted than I am.

“I haven't… heard those commercials you played…” The CRT started, slurring his words and sinking lower into the bed and crossed his spread out legs. “In… sooo long.”

“CAN’T YOU [Technicality] [Press Play] WHATEVER… R-RERUN;s$ YOU WANT, [Cathode]?”

“T-technicality? Oh, wait… Technically yes but, weeell I don't know how to describe it, but it's better hearing it from someone that’s nnot you. It makes you feel…” He gestured with his hands in the air, huffing as they came down faster than expected. “Not. glooby.”

“WHAT?? EAHAAHAAhea-!” Spamton lightly laughed at the wording.

“I mean! I mean you're not alone, like you're not the only one who still cares that time happened. That you're not the only one that's keeping it from being erased. That I'm not talking to myself everyday trying to relive some glory days. That I'm not trying to keep everything alive by myself.”

“THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL [[but never glooby! You can't get this from a–]]-” Spamton slapped both his hands over his teeth and groaned.

God. Don't acknowledge that one, please.

“Hey, that's my show…! You even- ahaha! Recorded… mmy show.” 

I can't help it. But as long as you're getting a kick out of it.

“Yeah. But that's what makes me feel not so glooby.” 

Spamton hummed, a soft yet bitcrushed sound as he fiddled with his hands.

“Sssspamton n’ Te-nna’s. T. V. Tiiiiiiime…~” Tenna sang blissfully, with a hint of melancholy, sighing as his smile slowly faded. “...But it's all… over. I don't think… I’ll ever get my show back. What if this lightner doesn't like me? What if they take me in… just to throw me out again? What if I fall apart… or I damage myself? What if it's too late? What if I realize I…” 

His voice was filling with auditory noise, as if he was getting choked up with letting his mind wander about the possibilities.

“What if I realize once I'm in this new life… that I'm broken beyond repair? I wouldn't know what to do. It'd only be a matter of time… before this process starts all over. Before I'm all used up and nobody knows who I am and-”

“I’LL GET KRIS TO [[Making dinner reservations]] SO THAT I CAN [Visit in a timely matter] YOU. EVEN IF THAT ALL ENDS UP BEING TRUE. YOU CAN FIX SOMETHING FOREVER IF YOU HAVE THE RIGHT [Sales on tooling supplies].”

“You’ll visit me?”

“WHY w0U;LDN%T I??? I NEED A [staycation away from the] AS MUCH AS ANY [[Network Executive]]! EAHEAHEAHA! IF IT [means] ANYTHING,” Spamton rolled his head to the side, resting it on Tenna’s chest. He could feel the radiating heat from the other’s screen and the light tingle of television fuzz. “YOU’RE [[Popularity Advice]] DOWN HERE. LOTS OF [[unpaid labor]] CARE. ABOUT YOU.”

“Oh I know, and I love them all…It's just…” Tenna trailed off and took a shaky breath in and let out a long sigh. “It… it doesn't matter why. Hey, could you do another ad? A happier one?”

“H0n3sTTLY, I’M [Be surprised] I GOT EN;0UGH [[Right on the $$$]] AS MUCH AS I DID. BUT [[When a man’s gotta]] ADVERTISE, IT MAY AS WELL BE APPRECIATED. [[Submit a Request?]]?”

“Hmmmmm…” Tenna clumsily crossed his hands over his midsection as he took some time to ponder the options. “Howww about one we made together?”

We?

Spamton’s eyes widened and he glanced at the TV, who's screen was dimmed significantly and barely a noticeable smile was on his face. The puppet had tensed, and a thin line of sweat dotted his brow. This could be his chance to prove that he was in fact…

He didn't even believe me when I let our unused one slip out. But… maybe second times the charm?

I want you to know what you did to me.

I want you to see what I've become because of you.

“OKAY. UMM… HOW ABOUT [[Take a Ride around town! To Big Shot Autos! Feel that sweet breeze as you cruise on down for Big deals! Big savings, Up to $500 cash back SeeYourDealerForDetails.]]-”

Tenna’s chest shook as he laughed. “Your favorite car commercial, I remember that… Take a ride around town in our special Cungadero. Didn't the earlier models have an engine defect that caused them to expl-”

“O-of [coarse] NOT! m;>mmMY [[Modeling]] WERE [top-notch]. [[0% Margin of Error]]. [Professional Driver. Do not attempt.]”

“Mhmm, of course they didn't…” Tenna hummed in reply, sighing and sinking lower into the mattress, Spamton feeling him relax beneath him, the soft fuzz of television static petering out being the only sound in the room. “I missed you… so much, Spammy.”

“I…” 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Try, asshole!

It doesn't matter. He's drunk.

We're both drunk, just try.

…

At least try.

Spamton closed his eyes, gripping the fabric of Tenna’s shirt in his hand tightly, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger as he narrowed in on his words, all of his focus in passing over his ad speech. Just for right now. Just for right now. 

…

He couldn't do it.

…

He couldn't… risk it. 

…

So Spamton stayed silent.

…

He wouldn't want to know me anymore. 

Maybe before this whole arrangement started, I wished I could prove it to him, but maybe it's better this way if he just sees me and knows me like this. Until it all gets out and he HATES me.

…

But slowly, ever so slowly,

He let go of the fabric he toyed with and slid his hand over to where Tenna’s was, lightly gripping one in his own. With a slight sigh and whine, Tenna took it, and turned to be on his side, moved his other arm around Spamton, and pulled him close to his chest. The puppet even felt the larger darkner's hand securely on the small of his back.

…That's what he wanted. 

Spamton’s head pressed into Tenna’s chest, and no doubt a glitch or two passed his face when it did, but that intoxicating buzzing sound of his sleeping monitor, combined with the fresh scent of freshly inebriated CRT, and the electrifying warmth that came with being cradled against his core…

Who cared if it only lasted for a little while.

There was so much else to say, so much he couldn't say. And maybe that was okay. It was better this way. But for now, his eyes closed after the screen cut to black, sweet unconsciousness taking him too.

…

…

…

…

…

“...Moving vans got you down? Try…”

…

“...In all shapes and sizes! Get them Big! Always bigger, never better!...”

…

…

“...Who wants a prize? Call the number on your screen…”

…

…What…?

…

“It's Spamton G. Spamton, coming to you live here on TV Time to give you the best deals on our new line of out state-of-the-art Cungadero-!”

That made him wake up.

Spamton’s eyes shot open, and was instantly blinded by flashing lights and an entourage of colors and cycling images. The sound that accompanied it was quiet enough, not muted but not nearly as loud as he thought it'd be after initial reaction. At once it had him shrink back, raising his hands to be over his face to shield him from the massive influx of sudden information.

“Cowabung-dero! That's a Cungadero! From their aluminum exterior to their reliable engine at the heart of it all-”

That's…

The puppet cracked open his eyes, squinting through his fingers as his eyes adjusted to the dark, seeing a glowing white addison talking directly to him.

…me.

“Expect those on the lots already to disappear in the blink of an eye, folks! Time’s passing fast! Why still be watching when you can be buying?! Our new 1999 Cungadero comes in a series of brightly colored exteriors, the top pulldown roof will have you feeling the breeze in your hair as you cruise- not snooze! So why sleep now on these once-in-a-lifetime deals?!”

Gingerly and cautiously lowering his hands, he was slow to process what exactly he was seeing, but when it clicked, it nearly paralyzed him with an anguishing stillness he couldn't even comprehend he could feel seconds prior.

A still sleeping Tenna was turned on his side facing him, his screen lit up with vivid, instantly recognizable, and high energy commercials from a long time past. He seemed to be… dreaming, as much as a TV darkner could dream.

A white addi-... salesman with the shiniest red suit he'd ever seen any one of those darkners wear was on proud display, and he walked around a car lot with a pep in his step most unsettling with the backstory in mind. Still, his smile was welcoming, approachable, courteous. His benefactor had really done a fantastic job in shaping it. If Spamton hadn't known all the desperation and resentment behind it, it would have almost been believable. 

“And that's not all! Come celebrate the end of the millennium in style and luxury and experience that smooth taste of freedom with a–”

It switched to another commercial. 

“Spamton G. Spamton here all the way from Cyber City to let you, dear viewers, on the best deals for at-home internet! And trust me, I know internet! Want to find yourself surfing the web instead of waiting for your waves? The best provider may be closer than you think!”

This was a nightmare. 

And he couldn't look away.

“Hi, it's me, Number 1 Rated Salesman, Spamton G. Spamton! Aren't you sick of those old broken down charging cords? How about those power outlets who have a mind of their own?”

As if strings held his head in place, tying his attention literally to the screen, he gripped the bedsheets and instantly noticed how bad he was shaking.

Another.

“Number 1 Rated! Spamton G. Spamton! All across Cyber City! Now on Tv Time! Call this 1-800 number on your screen to enter for your chance to WIN some WILD PRIZES included with your purchase! That's right! Call 1-800-BIGSHOT and you could be the lucky winner for our very own-”

Another.

“And you too can be a BIG SHOT at the grill, for 4 easy payments of just $19.95! But if you call in the next 10 minutes, we’ll throw in two extra spatulas for absolutely free!”

Another.

“Spamton G. Spamton, Number 1 Rated Salesman, here to-”

Enough.

Spamton darted up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards away from the screen, heart palpitating inside of his chest and he genuinely, genuinely believed he was going to be sick or die of the sheer panic that trapped him here infront of the screen. Everything in him screamed at him to get away from this- get away from him- he ruined my life! He ruined everything! He ruined- he ruined- 

He ruined everything!

Smash his face in! Make it stop!

Make it end! Make it stop! 

Bash his face in! 

Make it stop!

Another.

Silence. All except for some soft beat, new-age music, drumming muffled in the background. The tone shift had caught him by surprise, and Spamton had just realized at that moment his cheeks were wet with streaks of tears. Wiping his tears hopelessly away just for them to get replaced by quickly appearing new ones, his wide eyes were fixed to this new display, even if because he was now upright, he had to watch it while the TV lay on his side.

The picture on the screen looked like the door to his dressing room in TV world, and a gloved hand appeared in frame, knocking on the door lightly.

“Spammy, you in there?”

…Tenna.

“Yeah. Come in. Just you?”

“Just me.”

The door opened, and a small, white salesman appeared in the frame, the same enthusiastic top-of-the-world one that Spamton had just viewed in a panic only seconds earlier. Except his yellow tie was loosened and bright red tailcoat was unbuttoned, leaving him in a loose, white dress shirt with matching white slacks. He was sitting on the dressing room lounge, had a cigarette in his hand which was practically hovering over the ashtray on the arm of the couch.

Despite fully on the edge of the seat of the couch, his feet didn't even touch the floor as he sat. Those heels really did add some extra inches. It really was TV magic, the cathode hadn't bullshitted him even all this time later.

“What…? Heh, hey Ant, why do you have that camera?”

“Well, I couldn't bother you while you were on set. I got you something, I thought you'd want to open it. But… hold on,” Tenna had set the camera down on a table that must have been by the door, because now they were both in frame as Tenna meandered over to the couch to sit beside Spamton.

Jeez, was I always that small compared to him?

“Are you okay?”

“Okay…?!” Whatever calm demeanor the salesman had before had vanished in the blink of an eye as he took a final long drag from the cigarette and practically scrunched it in the ashtray beside him to put it out, nearly teetering over the entire ashtray with the force. “That whole broadcast was shit. I was shit!”

Surprise flickered across the past version of the TV’s screen. “What do you mean? That was one of your best commercials yet, at least to me-”

“You aren't the fucking audience, Tenna!” The smaller disheveled darkner snapped before putting his forehead in his hands. “That had to be my worst line delivery yet! For the love of the light, what am I doing?! It was too much, hell, if those damned writers made me say ‘please’ ten times in a row, it wouldn't look too out of the ordinary! It's too in your face! Too-” Spamton cut himself off, grabbing at his arm sleeves and staring blankly forward, past where the camera was still recording. “I'm going to have to make a phone call, see if Mike can fix it, Mike can fix anything. Mike can fix me.”

“We don't need to get Mike involved. You sounded fine-”

“Did any of my voices sound different to you? L-like they bugged or skipped in any way? Maybe it was another person’s voice coming out of me? Or was it-”

“What? Ha, Okay, you're laying off the fruit punch and caviar between shoots. No, you sounded like you always do. There's nothing you have to worry about!”

Disbelief in the smaller darkner’s face.

Spamton knew exactly what he was thinking.

…

It's getting worse.

…

“You're incredibly tense, Mr. Big Shot. Something happen?” Tenna took Spamton's shoulders in his hands, slowly rubbing them comfortingly. 

“N-no. Sorry. I just got things. On my mind. You don't have to worry about them, okay? It seems every time I come here, I'm safe and I’m free from it all. But…”

“Home?”

“...Home.”

Tenna hummed in response. “I get it. I just want to let you know there will always be a place for you here. You'll always belong, and I'll always be here for you. If ever you just want someone to be around, or talk to… Also, if it makes you feel more secure, we can always check for vocal flubs in sound check tomorrow.”

That seemed to relax him significantly, as he sighed and leaned into the TV darkner’s touch. Still, he didn't look reassured, like something was on his mind about Tenna ‘always being there’. The addison’s face pinched in worry as the TV darkner tended to his hair, smoothing it back.

“Thanks, Ant.”

You weren't.

You never came to help me.

You left me to deal with it all myself. Alone. Even after I found out about you.

The lord of screens.

I knew what was going to happen. 

But then it never did.

You're still here.

You're still hopelessly here.

“So… you got me something?”

“Oh right!” Tenna removed his hands from his shoulders and picked up a small box that had been placed to the side. “Thought to deliver via your mailbox, thinking it would be humorous for my little mailman, but no, I wanted it to be in person.” Tenna gave him a small, light green box with a light mint ribbon. 

“What's the occasion, huh?” Spamton said, taking the box from Tenna.

“You've been coming here around two years next week, I thought I'd get you something special for the milestone. And also to express how honored I am to have you as a co-host. You're really my favorite shining star.”

“...Well, well. Look at you. Did you get your cologne and your flattery mixed up again? You dabbed it on awfully thick today. I didn't even get you any-”

“You don't need to. Consider it an anniversary gift! Honestly, don't know how I didn't think of it earlier.” Tenna was blushing, and as if the past Spamton could tell, the camera picked up the smallest smirk on his own face as he removed the ribbon and opened the box. 

In seconds, he removed… what looked like a brilliant gold pin of ‘TV’, exactly similar in make and finish to Tenna’s own pin on his suit. 

“What do you think?”

The Big Shot’s eyes were wide as he gazed at the pin, as if he was in disbelief. For Spamton on the outside of the screen, looking in, he remembered those thoughts, even if they made him ill now.

[Name Redacted] was right. I secured my spot. I made it! I did it! All I had to do was follow instructions. It's… 

beautiful. 

I'm not going anywhere but up from here on.

“I see your game here. You're trying to make me a spitting image of you, as if you weren't the one already copying me.” Spamton laughed and quickly put it on, practically beaming with excitement. “Of course I'm joking. I… I love it, Ant. I can't wait to wear it on set.”

“See? There's that big smile of yours! I've been waiting to see that all day. A real one.” Tenna grabbed his shoulders and gave him a playful shake back and forth, earning a joyous response from the smaller one. They laughed and embraced each other, but for Spamton, his vision became unfocused, uncentered, and… slowly…

…his own, puppetified reflection stared back at him.

Broken, tired, unrecognizable, and with a frown pulled most unusually compared to the face he'd been watching for the past couple minutes or so.

The puppet shut his eyes in an instant, backing away even more and slowly sliding off the bed. He never wanted to see that again. He never wanted to see… that stupid screen.

…

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, trying not to notice how visibly bright and wrong the dark world looked without the dealmakers. His breathing was shaky and he sniffled as he practically shuffled out of the bedroom and into the living room. Puppet-like plastic feet padding against the linoleum, he nearly tripped open one of the empty bottles of battery acid from the night before as he slid into a curled up position on the couch.

Resting both his hands underneath his cheek, his dealmakers snugly pressed in his palms, he stared ahead at the fuzzy, off-colored wall ahead, his bloodshot, exhausted eyes half-closing…

And then the tears flowing free.

They dripped down his cheeks, his nose, all to the floor or on the cushion under him.

First the crumpled poster in the inside pocket of his jacket and now this.

...

How immensely he had messed everything up. How he couldn't fix it at this point because it was all too late. How he couldn't stand who he was. How Tenna was responsible for all of it.

…

I never want to see that screen intact again.

…

I never want to see…

…

again.

…

…

…

Chapter Text

There was an annoying drumming discomfort, right behind his screen, making his head feel like it was lightly throbbing. It sent ripples of static across his face as he steadily activated and he groaned, rolling over onto his back, moving his hands towards the glass and rubbing the area over his nose. When did he get to sleep last night? How long, and most importantly how much did he drink? 

Tenna draped one arm over his screen and with the other, felt the space off to his side, half-expecting someone there by feeling the touch of soft black hair as confirmation. However, his touch came back empty, finding that half of the bed completely vacant. It was odd, as he was at least eighty-percent certain there was someone laying with him just earlier–

Spamton.

Tenna’s screen brightened significantly as he gripped the bedsheets in a closed, tight fist.

Spamton. Where is he?!

He shot up from the bed and was quick on his feet, but regretted that action near-immediately with how he wobbled and staggered, his head giving him a few rapid pulses of static protest with having all his weight now be upright all of a sudden. Tenna reached out an arm to the wall to stabilize himself, and after processing that perhaps he was just a little hungover this morning, he took a moment to gather his bearings. When he was at least a bit confident he could walk without his vision doing the beginnings of a somersault on him, he let go of the wall. Now to assess the rest of the situation.

Where did he go? He was just-

Tenna stepped out into the main room, seeing the little puppet curled up on the couch, one arm folded underneath his head acting as a presumably too-hard pillow. Surprisingly, his glasses were removed, clutched loosely in his other hand hanging off the couch, and his eyes were closed as he breathed softly, still visibly asleep.

Seeing him, Tenna’s shoulders deflated and he slumped in disappointment.

Of course it's not him. I was probably just, ugh, dreaming.

That's annoying, I could have sworn he was here. It just felt so real.

…

Although… without his glasses… 

…

Tenna strode slowly towards the sleeping puppet and took a seat on the coffee table just a couple feet away from the other's position on the couch, clutching his hands together between his knees as he leaned forward. He noticed the dark circles under the puppet’s eyes, as if he hadn't slept soundly for some time, and for the first time took a real long hard look at his face. There were scuffs across one side of it, and the paint on his cheeks looked as if it could fade away any day. He looked worn and weathered, a much older doll than anything that could be considered New.

He reached out hesitantly, cupping the side of the smaller one's face in his large hand. The puppet seemed to groggily respond, and at first Tenna’s heart leapt, thinking he'd made a crucial mistake, but as Neo relaxed once more, still in blissful slumber, Tenna decided to keep his hand still. He even was humored that Neo seemed to tilt his head into the touch.

Tenna hummed, and slowly traced his thumb across Neo’s painted cheek. While Tenna’s guard was still up, Neo eased enough into the touch that Tenna couldn't help but to respond himself, feeling a wobbly grin unfurl on his face. He just looked so… content. So unbothered. He wanted to give him more of this and get more attention from him in return like he had last night. The normally riled up little darkner, who Tenna most recently associated with spitting insults and nonsensical ad breaks, or maniacal, unhinged laughter… looked so tame at this moment. And so… utterly…

familiar.

…

…He knew it wasn't him.

Because of… 

…that.

Tenna tilted his screen slightly downward then traced his thumb towards the crease of where the puppet’s bottom jaw met with the rest of his face in what felt like curiosity rather than tenderness. It was like what would be found on your common dummy, and Neo’s exterior felt like a dull matte white plastic rather than the soft glowing computerized skin that his mailman had. Tenna didn't get to inspect him very long before the little darkner’s calm, slow breath hitched, causing Tenna to freeze where he was. 

Then his eyes fluttered slightly open, like it was a struggle, his brow crinkling in what looked like discomfort before he started to squint harshly against the dark of the room. 

For some reason, any words Tenna had couldn't climb fast enough up his throat as Neo looked down, tracking Tenna’s thumb with his eyes. What followed was a heavy, tense pause between the two. Neo’s dark eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed before his now wide-eyed attention shot to Tenna in front of him. He then flinched, practically scrambling up to a standing position after ripping Tenna’s hand away from his face.

“D;’ON’T > [touched] ME !!!!!!1!1!” he screeched, a horrible computerized sound tearing out of vocal cords that were obviously damaged and misused for who knows how long. Backing away from him in a rush, Neo put a fair amount of distance between the two of them as soon as he could until he tripped backward on the arm of the couch. He flailed his arms forward but it wasn't any use before he fell backward, his head making a ‘thunk’ against the linoleum floor.

Tenna stood, wordless and shocked, from his spot at the coffee table, rushing over to where the puppet had fallen, but he was already sitting up, squinting and rubbing the back of his head. If Neo was feeling anything like the TV darkner this morning, there was no doubt that tumble was making him see some stars. 

“Are you okay!?”

“YEAH,” The puppet replied, his palm rubbing circles in the back of his head and then to his temple. “JEEZ [LouEEZ], WHAT A [wakeup call].”

“I’m sorry,” Tenna leaned down, extending a hand towards Neo. “I didn't know you were- or I didn't think you would be- Or–”

“GIVE IT A [Rest up], [[Cathode]]. I’M [Find Exclusiv Prices]–... I’M. FINE.” Neo took his offered hand and he pulled him to his feet. The puppet looked up at him from under a harsh gaze, and there was something feral but so painstakingly recognizable about those eyes. Still, there were differences. His eyes were red around the edges, and from the way they were focused, Tenna could only suspect he didn't see very well at all.

“IT’S [[Fine Dining Tips for beginners]]. WHERE’S MY [prescription] [$20 Off Glasses Set]???” Neo asked, closing his eyes.

“Hold on, don't move.” Tenna turned around towards the couch and saw the pink and yellow glasses had been dropped on the floor. He picked them up and walked towards Neo and for the love of the light the more he looked at him the more it was just too similar…

“Here.” Kneeling down, he handed them to the puppet, who snatched them away and hastily put them on his face.

“Sooo how'd you sleep?” Maybe it was a dumb, awkward question but as if the situation couldn't get more dumb and awkward. He couldn't help himself, he just had this feeling something wasn't right.

“LIKE [[Store Closing Sales on Now!]].” Neo replied and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “...c0ULD HAVE BEEN WORSE.”

Yeah there's no dancing around it.

“I'm sorry. About that. Freaking you out and waking you up like that. No one… Yeah, no one needs that!” Tenna rubbed the back of his neck, and tried to ignore how the puppet continued to look down and away from him as he spoke. “...Look, last night was really fun. And I liked spending time with you. I really did.”

Neo finally looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don't know what came over me just now. I guess you looked so peaceful and-”

“YOU WEREN’T TAKING MY MY [product dimensions] TO [[Ship]] ME [off as] A   [New&Improved] [[Merchndise_]], ARE YOU?”

What?

“What? As merchandise? No, when would I ever do that to someone?”

Although he would make a good marketable plush toy or something of the sort. It's unlikely he has a brand already but is the drawing board still open or is it off limits now?

“HE EYH;>  eEY! SOMETIMES IT SLIPS EVEN MY MIND THAT MY [[horrible! endless!]] PHYSIQUE HAS PEOPLE [clammering] TO GET ANOTHER [looksee]. YOU’RE IN [sales], RIGHT? [[½   ]]-TIME?  I KNOW A LITTLE THING OR TWO ABOUT HOW THAT WORKS, SO THAT WAS MY [[first ever]] THOUGHT.”

“You never know, if the demographics demanding it are just right! We might have to draw up a contract! Hahahaha! But no, don't worry, I think you're safe from that…!” Tenna said, obviously joking, now taking the chance with Neo uplifting the conversation.

“GOOD. NOT 3vERYONE IS [lovingly Cursed.] WITH A   [make YOUR face the face for TV] LIKE THE ONE YOU SEE BEFORE YOU!!  IF YOU JUST WANTED TO ADMIRE A [[♡Find Hot Single_ In your area♡!]] FOR LONGER, YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED ME.”

Tenna couldn't help the slight blush that came to his screen at some of the ads that came out of Neo's mouth, but supposed at the lack of reaction from the puppet that was just another one that had an ulterior meaning.

“I don't think I'd have to make my face the face for TV if I already have the face of TV.” Tenna attempted a chuckle, lightheartedly poking at another one of the ad intrusions.

“DON’T [Rub] IT IN, YOU OVERGROWN [[VHS Players on sale]].” Despite trying to cut off the tension, Tenna noticed Neo still wasn't smiling and for a bit, there was a thought that crossed Tenna's mind that he should press and ask what was wrong-

“I HAD A [[good time]] TOO.”

“Y-yeah?” Tenna asked, his screen brightening and he fiddled with his hands, folding one over the other. “Even after our fight?”

Neo nodded once in return, but his smile was still absent, and as quick as his light had brightened, Tenna slumped and his good antenna drooped.

“Why'd you… come sleep out here, then? It's fine, I guess, you know, I was okay all alone by myself! But why didn't you stay-”

That got the puppet to snicker, attempting a cocky grin aimed up at the taller darkner. “OH COME ON, [Dust Magnet]. I DIDN’T THINK YOU WANTED TO SLEEP [around] WITH [locally known viruses] SO SOON. I CAN’T [believe] YOUR [Smooth Taste] IN [romantic getaway packages] HAS GOTTEN EVEN WORSE EVER SINCE I S4;w   YOU ON TV FOR THE FIRST TIME. WHAT? CAN’T WAIT A FEW [fiscal years] BEFORE YOU [Buy the ring] TOO?” 

What?!

I’m not

I’m not saying that!

Also... dust magnet?

“I'm serious-!” That got a deep blush going, and it wasn't receding any time soon. Tenna gestured sharply with both hands in one swiping down motion in front of him, trying to keep his composure the best he could. “It's not like that. I just… was wondering, did I do something wrong?”

The puppet paused and retained his smug grin, and he snorted, but as he crossed his arms, his light laugh escalated. “EAHEAHEAEAHEA!!1!  OH CALM YOUR [titular home videos], [[Boob tube]]. MY [[coding error]] MADE ME A [buggy] MESS.” His laughter cut off, and his smile faltered. “ITS NOT THE PRETTIEST  [[Top 10 Worst Things to Sightsee]] AND I DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE YOU.” 

Tenna’s frown tightened into a thin line. He hadn't meant for the puppet to feel as though his glitching was a justification for separating himself from him. It was a little unsettling, sure, just the unpredictability of it all, but Tenna wasn't around enough cyber darkners to be personally revulsed by it or even find it much of a hindrance.

Sometimes his own screen got a bit buggy and he'd need to adjust the antenna or give himself a couple 'thwacks' on the side of his head to get the signal going again. There was at least one cold solder joint in his system that gave him some trouble. He needed to let him know it was okay and maybe... reassure him by relating?

“You don't have to worry about that. I’m out like a lost signal! Unreachable at best. Heavy sleeper, you know?” Tenna laughed. 

Or he could say that. 

Still, Neo chuckled, sadly, like there was more unsaid. “I [figure it out], DON’T NEED TO TELL ME.” He sighed and let his arms drop. “SO, ARE YOU [[Up and at ‘em]] TO GO DO YOUR [Mr. Popular Guy] THINGS SO I CAN [what a catch] SOME MORE Z’s?? YOUR [Extra Comfort Mattresses] IS CURRENTLY NON [ocupado], SO I’M TAKING THAT. MY HEAD’S STILL [Swirling].”

“Actually, I was thinking…” Tenna took a step closer to Neo, but cut himself off when Neo seemed to tense, a glitch shorting out his face for a brief moment. That was enough to get him to stop and reevaluate what he was going to say.

Actually, I was thinking, could we go back and lay down? You know, just the two of us? Besides, there's something in me that makes me want to hold you close and never, ever let go. 

…

What was he thinking?!

The puppet?!

Really?!

It was one night! 

You are not going to get attached after one night!

No, you're not. You can't be. Not for him. NOT for him! You don't know a damn thing about him.

He tried to ignore how the warmth in his chest told him otherwise. 

“...UH. WHAT… WERE YOU [Thinking about your purchase]?”

“I… um,” Tenna rubbed his wrist, trying to come up with something else. “Hey! Are you hungry, by any chance? I have some CD bagels some my former employees brought me from the music store.”

The puppet’s manic grin came back into full effect, and he nodded enthusiastically. 

“WHO WOULDA THOUGHT THIS [[Hotel comes with free breakfast]]?? ?? I WAS JUST ABOUT TO [Rated: ★★☆☆☆] BECAUSE THERE WAS [[No Mint on my Pillow]] OR ANYTHING! THIS MIGHT BUMP YOU UP A COUPLE OF [levels] IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S [Good] FOR YA.” Neo wagged a finger at him.

“Again, not a hotel,” Tenna returned the smile. “But, I’ll let it slide this time.”

Tenna and Neo went to the kitchen and Tenna put some CD bagels down into a toaster while setting a kettle on the stove for some morning tea that he got from Seam one of his first days in town. Meanwhile, Neo took a seat at a small table located just a bit away from the island and rested his head in one of his hands. Tenna felt the puppet’s gaze follow him even when his back was turned, and so he leaned on the counter in the back of the kitchen and examined a bagel.

“They said they bought me some instrumentals from the classics. Dated it back to being around the nineties. Said I'd like it. Do you…” Tenna turned towards him, a slight, curious grin on his face, rotating the bagel with one of his fingers. “Like anything from? That era?”

“WHAT IS THIS, A [[Only on Trickaroo]] QUESTION? I BASICALLY [broken] MY V01;cE   FOR THE [Second Time] JUST SINGING [[tired of nonstop ads]] FROM THAT TIME PERIOD LAST NIGHT.”

“Second time…?” Tenna’s smile dropped. “Did you break it before?”

“A-” The puppet stopped himself, his form fizzling apart in multiple facial contortions as he held the side of his face. He came back to himself with a glitchy laughter and tapped the table with his free hand. “;>ea H;\\ aEAHEAHA! NOPE. IT’S a;ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS. CAN’T EVEN [lay down the facts] WITHOUT LETTING SOME [Click Here to Win $$$] SLIP NOW AND AGAIN.”

“It’s not too hard to get when you've listened to it for a while! You know, there is something I don't miss about working on my show and that was reading Mike’s last minute changes on the teleprompter as I was performing live. Heheh, no, let's not tell the host of the show that our jobs depend on until he's already up there! Why not?! Boy howdy! Luckily he's a natural! Hahaha!”

The puppet laughed with him, but glanced down at his hands, almost as if there was something there. "I G;e3T IT. WHEN SOMEONE ELSE IS [[Calling... calling...]] THE SHOTS, IT CAN GET [finding it hard to] WORK WITH."

“Somehow your shtick is easier. I couldn't make any sense of it at first but then it all started coming together. In fact it was so fun last night just listening to you just bring up all those commercials. Hahah-” Tenna stopped and his face fell, a beaded sweat animation flickering in on his screen. “Wait, is that mean to say? I know you can't control a lot of it. That can't be what I was trying to get across, I-” 

His sentence was cut off by the last CD bagel popping out of the toaster and he flinched, his height jumping up a good couple feet after being startled mid-sentence. When he registered he'd just been interrupted by the toaster of all things, his lips pulled into a thin frown in frustration.

Meanwhile, the puppet was losing it, pushing himself up off the table to point and laugh in Tenna’s direction.

“EAHEHAHEAHEAHEAHEA;>h <<HAAHa! WAIT UNTIL I TELL THE     L1gHTN3R   S THE [prophesized]   LORD OF [[Screentime]] GOT [spooked] BY A   [[Appliances in your price range]]!!1!”

Weird nicknames today all around, I guess.

“Ha ha, very funny! You continue that and I’m taking this and eating it myself.” Tenna, if he had eyes, would be rolling them right now, but Neo’s merriment had him cracking a small smile just at the ridiculousness of it all. He wouldn't be spooked in any other situation, but his nerves were on edge, though it didn't look like the puppet was going to be taking any offense to his words anyway with how he was wiping a tear from his eye while laughing. 

The CRT brought the bagels back to the table, then poured them both two cups of freshly steeped tea. He shrunk himself back down from the whole affair, so much as to actually be able to fit in his spot at the table, but also to hold his cup comfortably.

“IT’S NOT MEAN, [Buy] THE WAY,”

The smaller darkner had jumped back to Tenna’s comment, taking his morning tea in his hands. Tenna could practically hear the subtle scrape of his plastic fingers moving against porcelain, and his heart briefly yearned to hold it in his own as he did last night, maybe interlock their fingers? As they talked themselves into the sleep that would ease his headache?

...No. He shut that thought down as quick as it could come up and sipped on his tea. Because he knew who he was thinking about- who he wanted with him right now.

“AT LEAST [[Someone in networking social circle]] I KNOW MAKES [cents on the dollar] OF THIS. I’VE [Giving up already, Hot Shot?] TRYING TO EXPLAIN IT TO ANYONE ELSE.”

Tenna watched that smile take up less and less of his face as he talked, but brightened up once more when he took a sip of tea. He looked like so much was on his mind, things Tenna wouldn't even fall in moderate graces enough to hear. The puppet was just too secretive. About himself, about Spamton…

He wasn't going to get anywhere with this without going to other sources. Whatever and whoever those sources would be…

Oh well, he'd commit to the destination in mind in a little bit. For now he sunk his teeth into the CD bagel, hearing the mellow soft rock piano from a classic song play in his head as he chewed. By the way the puppet hummed off-tune, Tenna could tell he'd heard this melody too after he bit into his own bagel.

Tenna was onto him.

Spamton had seen it as the CRT inspected his face while he slept, how he toyed with his bottom jaw, how he looked at him like he knew him from somewhere. It wouldn't be long before this whole charade fell apart and Tenna hated him again, maybe even more now that he'd lied to him for the past couple days. He loathed the television darkner as well, and when shit hit the fan, Spamton wouldn't stay silent, taking the opportunity at hand to vocalize all his grievances and hangups, detailing in chronological order what horrors he'd succumbed to as a consequence for him nearly signing Tenna’s contract ages ago. 

However…

This was… enjoyable. He was enjoying himself, just existing with Tenna again, in the calmer moments between the times his Big Shot life and persona were brought up. Between the times he'd have to come face to face with the slipping reality that was what he's amounted to in his unreality. In the in-between of horror and grief, there was solace and companionship. In these in-betweens, in the lack of recognition, Spamton could remember Tenna's warm smile, his lighthearted jokes, his little jabs at his ego. He could be with the darkner who knew him before he wasn't him, could be the man he used to be before everything fell apart.

This was so utterly complicated, and the puppet felt like he'd been put into a bag and shaken for an hour or two. Confused, rattled, disoriented and so very, very…

He wasn't going to say scared, per se. This wasn't a con to be scared of. But he definitely didn't want the larger darkner to open it and find him inside... a sputtering, disorganized mess of past regrets and poor choices and then, worse, immediately associate him with someone who at one point had it all together and was on top of his world.

…

Damage control.

He needed damage control. Pronto. He needed to see what that box of scrap knew. Something in him had a feeling their fight from yesterday struck a chord with Tenna, and that he'd go elsewhere to learn more information, which if all his predictions were right, would lead to being Swatch. Especially with his slip-up last night.  

He could deal with that multicolored bird; he had before on countless monumental occasions. After the… incident, and his body had suffered the complete and total punishment given to him by his benefactor, [[Easels]] had been the first one to truly recognize him even as he tried desperately to keep them out of his room for the time being. However, they were there for protocol, on a direct order from Queen, which meant this was the end of the line for the salesman at the cusp of irrelevancy. 

Having his physicality marred and deformed before his eyes was on the lower level of issues facing him then. Them being there, standing in the doorway with their expression as professional as ever, as they saw him for the first time since his transformation, Spamton would never forget how their ruffled feathers gave away that they had not expected what they saw. It was like he was face-to-face with a stranger, based on the sullen, reserved nature of their next words. 

'Swatch! Thank [[Your Lucky Stars]] it’s only you! I need some [[Help organize your OWN]]- Help. I have the [[$$$ upfront]], BuT MY [MSG not going thrugh? Click Here:]–'

'Spamton G. Spamton. in failure to meet your due payments, you are hereby evicted from Queen’s mansion and are no longer welcome.'

'...What?! WHAT D;d0 You [true meaning of] I’M NOT [[Welcome to the Corporate Family]]?! What are you [[pull something?]]?! C’mon, Paletta! It's me! We’re [Friend(s)]-'

'A team of my swatchlings will be here momentarily to gather your things. Understand that this is final and that you have until the end of the hour to leave or you will be forcibly removed from the property.'

Part of him seethed at the memory, glitches skimming across furious eyes. They were just doing their job, but they could have done something. Hell, they could have at least apologized. Or shown some pity, even if he didn't want or need that. Speaking of! He didn't need them, just like he didn't need the television darkner in the room with him doing his tie in a mirror hanging high on the living room wall.

Ever since, it was just trying and failing to get into that mansion. The next twenty years consisted of blueprints drawn on dumpster walls in red correctional marker and whatever else he could find, heavily planned stakeouts to assume each and every swatchling’s position at every given time when they weren't doing tasks appointed by Queen. 

The day he came up with the idea to impersonate [[Easels]] was one of his better schemes, so foolproof it became his staple, and Spamton just waltzed right in after finding an addison’s discarded black suit shirt in the back of the orange one’s boutique. It had been a bit oversized, but those swatchlings probably couldn’t tell if he donned the right pair of multicolored shades. 

Sure, he was caught, but that was his own fault, as he'd darted down a hallway when a swatchling pointed at him and shouted “Hey, it's you!” which was probably meant for their boss, but Spamton had made it suspicious. He at least got them back that time by throwing a vase at their head and cleanly slicing another in the wing with a chunk of porcelain before being tossed out the window into a garbage can.

He’d tried every con and scheme and trick and scam and ploy he could, from snorkeling in the acid river to get close to the basement, to sneaking in through the sewer system channels. Nothing worked. Spamton had even heard there were swatchlings with designated titles called “Spamton Watch” whose job was only to scope out the mansion to see that he wasn't roaming around and trying a new stealth-based plan for the basement. There was no doubt he was a laughingstock among the mansion, and maybe some even had betting games on who would catch him next.

Every time he was caught by those brawny birds or their boss, and thrown repeatedly out into cyber alleyways, or beat senselessly until he could hardly drag himself out without their unwanted assistance, he'd mumble the mantra back to himself. That EmptyDisk would be worth it. Becoming [[Big]] would be worth it. It would. It would.

He had repeated to himself continuously that it would be worth it, it's the only thing that kept him going, repeated it until it was burned into his code, repeated it until it was his own personal manifesto. Because he was almost there, he could practically see the silhouette every time he closed his eyes, its aura eclipsing him in [Heaven]ly bliss and splendor, as he felt his height surge up, up, and his wings splayed out in power and might, dwarfing everyone, everyone, with what he could only call his.

What a dream to never come true.

What a body to never be in again.

If Tenna found out… well, he'd have to shut Swatch up before they tarnished his name even more than it was already. 

Who got called 'crooked' for having dreams anyway besides him?

He knew how the bird ticked, knew exactly what he could say too in order to shut down some of the more intense revelations.

You really think me and Spamton are the same guy just because this wad of feathers told you so? Soon you'll be falling for new colors they made up and claim they're able to be seen by shrimps! Believe with your eyes, Cathode! There's no new colors! I have them and their whole flock fooled, but hey if you want a spot with them, gladly take it! There's no shortage of bird brains on this side of the fountain!

He's not famous anymore? Oh come on, you're not going to believe someone who thinks an acclaimed salesman and me are the same. Ironic this guy's working with everyday paint acrylics, right? Because they seem to be more blind than color blind! Also the city isn't around anymore, so who can really confirm or deny that he's not a [Big Shot] huh? Greener and greater pastures, Tenna. Greener and greater pastures. That's where he is.

...I wish that's where he was... I wish that's where I was...

Doesnt matter. Focus.

Yeah, that sounds good.

Oh he was a genius. He had this in the palm of his hand.

So think of something. You're the “coming up with plans” guy. 

If… Tenna was going to talk to Swatch again with insistence on knowing where he was… Spamton would have to be there. To interrupt if necessary, or to take matters into his own hands when it came down to it. Like… a surprise guest appearance. Like…

His eyes narrowed on Tenna’s tailcoat still splayed on the couch.

…Bingo.

The pieces of another grand plan were sneaking into focus.

“HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO BE [[out on that caribbean cruise?]]”

“Caribbean cruise, huh? Heh, not that long unless they have a very good outlet on the high seas!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I-”

“No, I know. Sorry, I’m poking fun!” Tenna slid his shoes on. “Hopefully not that long, I still… have a bit of a headache, if I'm being honest. Even if eating something made it a little better. I'll probably just offer some feedback at the TV building today!”

Liar.

“WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT A [tunes] WOULD BE THE [[Miracle Cure!_Doctors hate this!]]? SO I CAN GO BACK TO [[Sleeptime Remedies]] WHILE YOURE OUT DOING THAT.”

“If you want…” Tenna half-turned back towards him, tilting his head in a friendly grin before his face suddenly fell in surprise. “Though I- Oh! Wait, wait, wait. Before you do!” Tenna waved his hands in front of him madly. “I got you something.”

He practically dashed off, leaving Spamton stunned. The puppet slid off his perch on the coffee table, peering into where Tenna had entered the kitchen. He was hesitant to follow, and felt his nerves spike when he heard that. 

‘ Well, I couldn't bother you while you were on set. I got you something, I thought you'd want to open it.’

So that's why you dreamt that.

He really is onto me.

Spamton rubbed his opposite arm, slowly trudging forward into the kitchen, and his grip fastened onto the fabric when he saw Tenna walk towards him holding a little white box with a pink label on it. He crouched in front of the smaller darkner, resting one hand on his knee as he extended the other hand holding the box towards him. 

“Got you these yesterday while I was out. It's just a… uhm, a thank you. For… healing me. Which you didn't have to do, but you did. And I'm fully recovered now! But you knew that already.”

Spamton gingerly took the box from Tenna. He would have to really scrounge through his memories to recall when exactly the last time he got a gift even was. He'd assume that the personal-hellscape-conjured-just-for-him last night didn't count if Tenna was an unwilling broadcaster, but otherwise, what other types of gifts did Spamton ever get to receive that wasn't some type of transaction? If he wasn't made aware of that painstaking memory of the TV pin, then he'd be drawing a blank right now. That version of him shouldn't count either; they were too different, apparently.

“I hope you like them, oh I forgot what Swatch said, I think they're cherry?”

Curiously Spamton ran his thumb underneath the top flap of the box and let it practically open by itself, being greeted with the sight of a small collection of red and white macarons. They were in the shape of cat paws and looked like they were laid out with care, most likely by a very precise multicolored bird darkner.

The puppet’s grip tightened on the box upon the sight of them, the far reaches of a distant memory flickering in like whispers of static.

…

‘So you get back to the studio through this door, but if you come up her- Hey! Ant, you following? Jeez, the lag isn't that bad in this area so why are you lagging so far behind? I'm walking faster than you and I have much shorter legs. Or are you already lost? You have that face that says you're lost.’

‘Sorry! Hahaha, I just didn't expect your world to be so vast! It's huge! It's like I can't remember where I last came from.’ 

‘Welcome to the internet, baby!’ Spamton flashed him a wide smug smile. ‘That's all new age tech! An unventured wonderland of possibilities. And you got the best tour guide because email is at the center of it all. A global pioneer right from the ground floor up.’

'Right! Yeah, no. Ee-mail… that's! Still certainly something! That I'm aware of. That's different from regular mail. What was wrong with regular mail again?’

‘Yes, exactly! Now you have to visit the color cafe. Me and Swatch? Thick as thieves. I mean, look at me! Who wouldn't want to befriend the biggest celebrity on this side of the www.? I even got Queen’s head butler tryna kiss my ass to find out how I do it! Ain't that somethin’?’ 

Spamton laughed and snapped in Tenna’s direction. ‘Tens, You get anything you want off that menu, alright? It's all on me. You know, they got the best macarons in Cyber World as a whole, not just the city. But my favorite part?’ 

He leaned over in Tenna's direction and said the next bit behind his hand, even if the gesture was mainly for show, like a mockery of a secret. ‘Their drink selection is to kill for. My favorite’s their cherry-lime battery cocktail. They make it just sweet enough, not too overpowering. Perfect every time. Real high class shit.’ The addison then raised his arms open wide. ‘Fuck it! Let's also get some bottles of champagne for our talk about the next shoot tonight! I have some commercial ideas that will really knock our audience dead! You never know, I could get even more inspired with some bubbles in my system.’

‘Careful, you're gonna spoil me and then I'm never going to want to leave. Or I’ll keep scheduling our private meetings until you can't do anything else around here.’

‘Oh nooo~ what ever would I do if it came to that? Endless business meetings with the most boring CRT I’ve ever met?’ Spamton snickered sarcastically and took Tenna’s hand in both his own, looking up at him with that iconic smirk of his. ‘Sounds like absolute torture. I can't wait to get started.’

“H-hey. Are you okay?” 

...

Spamton came back to himself, his head glitching in a haze as he took a step backward to re-center his balance. Looking up at the concerned look of the CRT, his jaw fell open slack and crooked.

The memory faded away with the static and his jaw closed with a snap as he thought what else to say. Did Tenna remember? Was it over right now? Was he going to have to come clean? He really didn't want to come clean, not right now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment.

“EAHEAHEAHEAHEAHEAHEAHEA!!!1!1!!1! YOU KIDDING?? I’M JUST A [[suckerino]] FOR SOME [Delicis] [[Shop Local Baked Goods]]!!!” Spamton laughed maniacally, taking out a macaron and ferociously chomping down on it, it making a soft ‘crunch’ in his teeth.

Tenna cringed at the volume and the unexpected nature of Spamton’s reaction, but maintained that wobbly smile of his even as sweat appeared at his temple. The puppet hadn't even savored it, just tried to do anything in the moment to get that stupid memory out of his head. 

“IS THIS WHY YOU WERE [[Interrogacion]] THAT STUPID [Butler benefits] YESTERDAY?? I ALMOST FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT PIECE OF [[stunt move]] NOW! YOU STILL HAVE A [[long way from here]] W4;yY    2 GO TO EARN THAT THOUGH!!! ALSO THIS DOESN’T REPLACE YOUR [payment plan] FOR THE [[HealDeal]], GOT IT?”

“I didn't expect it to,” Tenna frowned, his brow furrowing. He decreased in height enough so that he knelt at eye-level with the puppet. “I just wanted to do something nice. I mean, you really helped me and I thought I could repay the favor!”

“THAT’S YOUR [problem], NOT MINE, OKAY?? [[Buster Brown]]?? IT WASN’T A [complimentary flavor]. IT WAS A TRANSACTION. YOU’RE THE ONE THAT GOT YOUR ARMS [[This gadget slices and dices like nothing else]], NOT ME. THAT WAS YOUR LITTLE [stocks tanking] BLUNDER THAT I HAD TO [Fix].”

Tenna shrunk farther down, wincing twice at the words ‘slices’ and ‘dices’ in the ad prior. “...Okay, you don't have to be an ass about it!”

“AHEAHEHEAHA! SURE I DO!! CAN’T LET YOUR [[ugly mug]] DO IT ALL BY YOURSELF! SPREAD THE [toast with the host who does it most], RIGHT?? CAN’T LET YOU TAKE ALL THE [credit reel].”

“Wha- When did I-” Tenna looked beside himself. “Where's this coming from? What did I do? Is this still about earlier? Or yesterday?”

“MAYBE! BUT WHO [cares] AT THIS POINT RIGHT? [[Scrap Heap]]?” Spamton patted Tenna twice on the shoulder and practically shoved the box of macarons back in his hands. That seemed even a harder blow to the CRT as his face crumpled and antennas wilted.

“S-scrap heap? Wait, can we talk about this? What's gotten into you?” Tenna said, his voice getting more rushed and angry. “I don't want to fight again.”

“SURE WE CAN [[chat with me now, Click link below]]. WHEN CAN YOU [Schdule] A [[Private meeting]] SO I DON’T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW?? C’MON! CUT A [guy] SOME [slacking off]!! HEY MAYBE YOU’LL EVEN GET THAT [information booklets] YOU WANTED OUT OF ME WHEN I’M ALL [[Rested up]].”

Tenna’s brow furrowed and he looked down at the box of macarons, seemingly defeated by the turn of the unexpected conversation.

“GREAT!! WELL THIS WAS A [[Good Chats all around]]!! TAKE CARE, [Cathode]. SEE YOU [2-nite]!” Spamton spun on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, listening intently to hear if Tenna was following him or not. 

Nothing. Good. 

Without even hearing a shuffle of the television darkner getting to his feet, Spamton stopped in front of the bedroom door, making sure to shut the door as loud as he could, then turned his attention towards the tailcoat. There was a slight shuffle from Tenna presumably getting to his feet, and that's when Spamton decided he'd have to act fast if he wanted this to work. He had probably a couple seconds to accomplish this.

It all hinged on Tenna not following him into the bedroom, of course, but he thought he did enough damage to at least crush his spirits for just a little while, especially with the stunt with the macarons, but how else was he going to get out undetected? If there was anything he really was, it was a betting man after all. He'd have to take his chances with what was around the corner.

Spamton opened the tailcoat, feeling the interior until his fingers grazed the interior pocket, and he smiled to find it was empty. Unsuspecting. Nothing Tenna would check for or need later. 

Here goes nothing.

The little salesman focused his energy into his code and removed the dealmakers from his face, slipping them in the interior pocket, before coming apart line by line and pixel by pixel, his puppet-like body dissolving and dissipating into bright green scattered lines of computerized code. With one final glance over his shoulder, his poor vision broke away into pieces as well until it became completely different.

He couldn’t see much of anything now, only a vivid bright pink and yellow interpretation of the fabric lining inside the pocket of the coat, concluding his transition into his dealmakers was a success. Just in time too, as he heard the slow footsteps of Tenna enter the room. There was a pause, and hesitation, then uncertainty started to well up in dealmaker.

Just grab the coat and leave. Come on.

What followed was a heavy sigh from Tenna, then sudden movement. The dealmaker registered this as the coat being picked up from off the couch.

“...Fine.” Tenna mumbled to himself. “If that… freak wants to be like that and not tell me anything, I guess I have to find out by myself.”

…What a drama queen. Whatever. As long as he doesn't suspect a thing.

There was another jolt of movement, as if Tenna had readjusted his height, then slipped on the coat, fastening it securely, unknowing of the stowaway pair of glasses in his interior pocket.

Chapter Text

So far the plan was going great.

Spamton could tell, as Tenna walked around Castle Town without a clue of his exact location, and he could eavesdrop on everything.

…This was both helpful to his curiosity, but got irritating real fast.

Seriously, the TV could talk anyone's ear off, or at least anyone who cared enough to have him around.

Which… 

was quite a bit of the recent recruits, he wasn't going to lie.

After seeing Tenna spiral through Kris’s point of view, Spamton’s predictions would have been in an entirely separate corner of where his reputation would land. But no, of course Tenna was continuously approached with conversation, happy and inviting, and he didn't even have to ask, or plead, or trap them in some sort of pitch for hours on end…

or promise to sell them something, or rope them into a contract made out of taped-together wrappers, or pickpocket them and hold their belongings hostage, or strike up a deal, or vaguely threaten their lives and wellbeings, or rob them or anything.

Jeez, I guess the secret really is you have to die to get friends.

Why didn't I get that luxury? That big shot went out with a bang! I bit the dust real good! So where's my cut of the prize pool?

…

Maybe fate could tell he was still alive and treated him as it does with failures who choose to live rather than failures who get to die. There was no fooling fate, no matter how many lies came out of his mouth about who he was.

…

Oh well, that wasn't his problem at the moment,

...though it still...

ate 

at him.

Like gnats at his overhanging, rotten wires. 

As far as friendships went, those Spamton once considered friends made sure to let him know he was not one of them from the beginning. He'd gotten the message relatively early after enough of them had spawned in after him and they decided unanimously he wasn't worth their time.

But hey! At least he was the one that came out winning in the end! What torment would that be to be strapped to one purpose for eternity? Never standing out? To never recognize reality and your non-place within it? Thank the light he dodged that bullet. Things really could have ended up worse for his story if he'd stayed an addison.

…

He'd forgotten where Tenna was now.

Right, right, the plan. Focus. 

A small bell chime, an unfamiliar bell chime. Did… did that bell go off whenever Kris entered the cafe before? Or was it new? Based on all the improvements, it could have been new, but–

“Hey there! Give me a second, I’ll be right with you!”

…

Spamton froze.

He recognized that voice.

Which one it belonged to though was a mystery. That voice came in a set of four…

…

Oh. 

Fuck.

No, not here! Not with them! 

You have got to be kidding me! You can't be serious!

The last real time he heard anything remotely similar to that was under overhanging lights in the cyber grille.

The four stared at him with contempt as he leaned over the table, in his new flashy red suit and gold raised shoes. Yes, he'd boasted, flaunted his wealth and status like he'd always wanted to, as he let them know in the only way he could that he wasn't going to listen to them aimlessly drivel on about their sales while not one product of his sold that day. Who could blame him for caving a bit into his own ego with the recently acquired upper hand? They should have been happy for him! Hell, his co-host role had only gotten more writing notes and added lines of set presence, cementing his furthered importance in the program.

But… that night… the last night he saw them...

Spamton had pretended not to hear their snarky comments about his suit, about how his shoes were obviously lifted for his stunted height, about how his act to buy the four drinks beforehand had been him trying to compensate for all those years of short-coming, about how him fixing his tie looked stupid and pretentious among other insults. He practically had bought this city! He didn't need this! Still, his benefactor jerked on his strings, making sure to keep him looking professional just in case, and made him brush his own hair back with a stiff motion of his hand when a strand fell into his face.

He… abandoned the notion he would ever be accepted as one of them, and abandoned that self as they looked at him with disdain. He fully dismissed them at that point, proudly proclaiming he didn't need them and hadn't for a long time. He didn't realize how manic he must have looked, with his shaking frame, as the strings on him got tighter, as if to tell him to stop while he was ahead. He prattled on with his vows, stepping more and more out of line, claiming that he'd only get [[Bigger]] the next moment they saw him, and intended to stick to that promise. 

Spamton was going to say that he's seen the future with him in it, that it's huge and inviting, and that there's no other addisons in frame besides him. He took up the entirety of the space, the biggest name on TV and online, but just as he was able to get the grounding on the conversation…

His voice cuts to an ad for one of his cars. 

Spamton tried to forget being so mortified as his hands shot to his mouth, as he hadn't intended on saying that. And he couldn't fully register a response as the others looked at him with terrible confusion. Until the pink one claimed he was doing it to shamelessly shove his ads in their less-important faces, completely on purpose. He remembered being set up as someone staging the event as a power display or a gimmick to start selling to them too. Spamton tried to save what he could since the vocal intrusion, saying he was just overworked, to the belief of none of them. 

That spiraled into the four leaving him alone at the table, four drinks left untouched with the one that bought them absolutely terrified of what… those above could truly do with him. Or make him do. He'd thought his benefactor speaking for him was only on set, but here Spamton was, unwillingly reciting ads in his personal life.

He remembered the blue one’s last words to him as he sat there, his expression tinged with worry and regret, hoping they'd stay even if his hands hadn't left his mouth whatsoever just in case it happened again…

Remember that whatever goes up, must come down. Good luck, Spamton. 

They couldn't see him like this. 

Under any circumstances, 

they could not see him like this.

He wouldn't allow it. Couldn't allow it.

…

Tenna had outsmarted him, even if it was unintentional.

All Spamton could do was sit back and listen, as if tying himself in his own strings, while Tenna got word of the reality Spamton so desperately wanted to conceal from him. 

Who does he think he is?!

Talking to me like that.

That's the LAST time I ever do anything nice for him!

It seems he just wanted something out of me! And that's it! That's all he wanted! A payment for his stupid healing trick! I don't matter to him, of course I don't! Why would I?! I'm just his hideout from the cyber world darkners and probably whatever horrible crimes he's done to get on Swatch’s bad side!

Really, Tenna?! You didn't consider this before? Is finding out what happened to Spamton worth harboring a potential criminal? A nuisance? He's already hated, and yet you'd risk your new second chance to give him the time of day when he's not even giving you the time of his?! 

What is wrong with me?!

Tenna couldn't help but drag his hands down his face as he practically stormed out of the castle, the headache from the morning really never going away and making his frustration just worse. He could have slept for longer, hell the puppet gets to do that, but no, his curiosity and need for answers was practically tearing him apart. Now, the idea of going back to the cafe and asking Swatch about anything either Spamton or Neo related was completely useless, if they were really falling for that baseless scam the puppet pulled their first meeting since the foam incident…

He was tired of being led in circles by that little hideous freak show, being promised things that would never come to fruition. It reminded him of a certain someone hovering above his drawn up contract.

This whole entire situation spanning over the last few days actively was putting his mind in a horrible place and he wanted out of it. 

And then he brought up the…

“Ugggh,” Tenna groaned and scrunched his nose, pinching the bridge of it to try and ward off the remnants of the headache and shitty memories, while also trying not to have a bad attitude like yesterday as he traced one of his hands over his arm. 

This puppet made everything so much worse. Why'd he have to make everything so much worse?! 

He was stopped several times on his trek into town, a few pippins happily congratulating him on his recovery, and the showman’s smile returned, ugly and strained but at least there. He couldn't get rid of what he had because a puppet made him feel like scum, so he put on his best friendly persona like the good old days and made sure to shrink down enough to give each pippin an appreciative pat on the their shoulders-

(“Thank you! Yes, I’m feeling much better, all thanks to all of you all. Mike, make me a remi- Oh right, I need to make a reminder by myself to hand out some employee appreciation cards to all of you! No, right, former employees. No, no, I didn't forget, how could I? Well they're appreciation cards nonetheless no matter who they're going to, right?! Ahaha!”)

-following the pippins were a crowd of shadowguys, who in blissful jazz notes were excited to report they'd heard from Lanino and Elnina the good news as well and had spread it around to the other members of their group. The sheet music for that conversation must have been really interesting. Two of them played their saxophones in merriment, and Tenna couldn't help but smile along with-

(“Just to think we could have put on more live shows if not for the broadcast schedule! But I guess that's why we're here! You have a performance tomorrow night at the cat cafe? That sounds exciting, I- I’m… invited? Well of course I have to be there, with everything you all have practiced! As if you even need practice, you're all naturals! No, I don't think I’ve heard the electric saxophone, is that new?”)

-and once they left, not long after, one of his zappers strolled up to him and saluted, announcing their early retirement-

(“You don't need to report that to me anymore, I’m no longer your boss, but that sounds like great news. You met a swatchling that wants to show you how to play mini golf? Well you'll kill it out there! On the green, always clean! Haha, no that's just from a commercial I remembered. Let Ralsei know, he might make everyone a course! I know the round boy that likes to hang out with the lightners likes to dig lots of holes, he can be useful. No, I don't remember his name, I think Kris told me it was Mr. Generosity?”)

Though, on a brighter note, just clearing up conversations with his darkners made him feel better mentally. 

It seemed a lot were adjusting really well and were making new lives for themselves so when the day came for him to leave them, Tenna was just relaxed with the fact that each would be safe and happy with their own newfound purposes. A lot seemed to be having fun here, partaking in activities with the other dark worlds' inhabitants and just generally having a good time. 

Part of him wished he wasn't doing this.

That he could just exist with those who wanted something to do with him, and less with the person who wanted nothing to do with him.

His entire situation right now made him feel like he was standing on an emotional tightrope, and it was killing his back to be holding his balance for so long without some relief.

But once he walked a decent way into town, back in the direction he'd gone yesterday, Tenna perused the buildings on the side streets and that's when he saw where he… was unfortunately going.

Maybe the mental refresher was needed. Maybe he should just turn around and go to the TV building and see what sets were being put up. He knew he'd be happier there. He'd be over all this Spamton nonsense and could just enjoy his limited time here.

…

He was hopeless. He decided he was hopeless as he kept walking.

A small storefront boutique with a series of mannequins in the windows came into his field of view and he inhaled deeply, seemingly amping himself up to conquer this professionally and efficiently and without bias spurred by a little white salesman of years before. God, what would make this moment even more shameful is if he really was crawling to them in a literal sense in addition to a metaphorical one, but not much else could compare.

Tenna pushed open the glass door to the boutique, hearing a small bell chime away at the environment to announce his presence, as he ducked underneath the entrance and stepped inside, taking note of his surroundings. Freshly tailored suits were perched on addison-sized mannequins, as well as long dresses and scarves and… one, small white mannequin modeling a patterned suit coat…

“Hey there! Give me a second, I’ll be right with you!” A voice came from the back, but Tenna disregarded it for the moment.

The mannequin was… uncanny now. With what he'd seen. With what he knew. But all of this was just confirming he was in the right place if he wanted to know more about his missing mailman.

Tenna looked elsewhere, away from the little mannequin, and at other articles of clothing in the store. Could he pull off wearing a patterned vacation shirt like the one he saw folded on a display table? The flowers printed on the shirt matched the ones he could produce and-

Ohhh look at all their glove options. 

They even have ones with gold trim in here. I've been meaning to switch things up for awhile now-

“Okay, done with that!” An orange addison came out of the back room of the store, measuring tape over his shoulders, and Tenna redirected his attention away from a mannequin with some gloves, his screen flickering in surprise. “Sorry to keep you waiting I was working on a–” The addison cut himself off, eyes widening and stopping dead in his tracks when seeing him.

“Hello again!” Tenna greeted him, a forced smile on his face as he approached. “About the other day! I couldn't stick around, me and my former employees were in a bit of a rush.” Tenna bent forward, extending his hand out towards the addison. “But now I can formally introduce myself. I-”

“Oh I know who you are, Mr. Tenna!” The addison took his hand and shook it politely. “I’m Banner, specializing in banner style web advertising which right now I have a selection of clothing lines over a select amount of sites in a very affordable price range! Anything over $70 earns you free shipping as well! What brings you by today?”

Tenna’s brow crinkled as he struggled to maintain his boisterous happy-go-lucky facade in the presence of this darkner. Already he was losing steam.

“Look, I can't say I'm here to shop. But rather I need you, and all the other addisons' help. Would it trouble you too much if I asked that you bring them by here? As soon as possible?”

If not right now?

“O-oh.” Banner, Tenna noted to himself, replied back, obviously not expecting that. “Yeah, sure! No problem! But why?”

“I have some questions for you all! And you salesmen are probably the only ones who can answer them. I’ll make it worth each one of your guys’ while. Like once I get back on the air, I’ll have some commercial spots open! I’ve found that addisons are just the perfect candidates for making commercials, and it sure would help your sales! Just for a little bit of information, a little conversation! No harm, no foul!”

“Oh wow, that's an honor, Mr. Tenna! Just give me like five minutes and I’ll have them all–”

“WHAT THE [[Car.Horn.sfx]]?!”

The orange addison stopped mid-sentence as something spoke over him, meeting Tenna’s also surprised face. “Did you say something?”

“No, I thought that was you.” Tenna stood straight and looked around. “Do you have any other customers here?”

What was that? It'd be easier to tell if he wasn't already talking. Sounded like a car horn? 

“I don't know, I didn't hear anybody else step inside. Could be just my phone, all these notifications, you know-” Another interruption, from the orange addison’s pocket, and they removed a ringing cell phone and gasped. “Oh, speaking of which! This is perfect, actually. Yeah no, I’ll have the other addisons here as soon as possible, don't you worry!” After a button press, he held the cell phone up to the side of his head, seemingly all too forgetting of the sound they both heard just seconds ago.

I don't… see anybody else here. 

“Clicks! Yeah, no, I'm not mad about the jewelry ad, promise, no I got something bigger. Like big shot level bigger. So you remember yesterday we caught Mr. Tenna? Well guess who's in my store, offering me a commercial deal for TV Time?”

Tenna heard a shocked and enraged ‘WHAT’ through the phone, loud enough that he'd heard it while looking around store shelves.

“No, no I’m kidding! It's for all of us. Let Sponsor know, I’ll contact Survey, and meet us down here at the boutique as soon as you can– well wrap up that sale! What's more important here? You selling tea that will rot in a day or the– yeah that's what I thought! Now get your butt down here.”

Hanging up the phone, the orange addison turned back towards Tenna, spinning on his heel and holding his hands behind his back. “They should be here any minute now! Meanwhile, in your time if you'd like to browse around, see what I have in stock, and I can answer any questions you might have about the products, just let me know!”

“Yup! Sounds good!” Tenna said with that same fake forced smile, in a pitch of voice that was too friendly to be truly his.

What the hell did I just get myself into?

The pink and blue addison had showed up not long after. After greeting the orange one and receiving handshakes and proper introductions from Tenna, the pink, Clicks, copped a seat on a bench right by some display mannequins and the blue, Survey, stood close beside, leaning on a display table. 

Survey’s stare, reminiscent of yesterday, bore into the television darkner, causing his nerves to stand on end and he casually put his hands on his hips to try and push to the back of his mind how nervous he really was. They were quiet for someone in polling advertising, hell Tenna didn't know the extent of their purpose on the internet, but knew a fair bit from TV about the annoyances of nonstop surveys.

It wasn't the best place for a business meeting, in fact it felt rather cramped, but at least he felt like he had an audience again with all the mannequins watching.

“Sponsor said they booked it out of god knows whatever they were doing,” Clicks offered, probably noticing a similar tension. “They're a social butterfly, and with all your employees it's probably got them running around just trying to remember all their most recent purchases and recommend them products based on that.”

“I think I get it, don't worry,” Tenna gestured with a hand out at the addisons. “You're all specialists of a certain kind of advertising! You all must be very busy most of the time just to keep up! What's ‘Clicks’ for then?”

“Oh here we go…” Banner mumbled to himself, seeing the pink addison puff out his chest in pride.

“I generate the most lightner interaction, or ‘clicks’ out of anyone here. They're interested in the products I show them and then follow my hand all the way to the checkout screen-”

“He's a click-on ad,” The orange one rolled his eyes. “It doesn't mean he gets the most interaction. It's not an honorary title or anything. It just means he's those links to click to somewhere else that show up whenever you're trying to look at a recipe online that won't leave you alone.”

Look up a recipe online? Why would you do that? Cooking shows are right there. Sometimes even celebrities are sharing their recipes and who doesn't love that? 

“Hey, lay off pal! Can't you see I’m in the middle of an interview?” Clicks raised one hand in Tenna’s direction, motioning to him while keeping eye contact with Banner.

“We all are, dumbass!”

I'm not getting any of this. Also how does being a mailman connect with Spam? Maybe it's the nonstop newspapers and coupons? Just pretend you know what they mean. Start nodding.

“Sorry about them, Mr. Tenna,” the blue addison piped up, their face in their hand. “They can get like this with big time clients.”

Tenna nodded. “Oh, it's fine! I don't m-”

“I heard we’re getting commercial deals?!” 

The bell at the door jingled loudly and a bright yellow addison seemed to burst through the door at the highest energy he'd ever seen one of these salesman do it, and Tenna jumped in response.

“Hi Spo-” Banner had turned towards the door mid-fight with the pink addison, but before he, or anyone could add anything, the yellow addison raced over to Tenna and abruptly extended a hand towards him. He took it slowly, but was not prepared for a handshake that had him stumble forward from the force of it, despite the yellow addison only coming up to his waist in height.

“Sponsor R. Addison! And you're Mr. Ant Tenna! Massive fan, by the way! Your show and your commercials made leaps in Cyber City! I can't wait to be a part of it!”

“Pl-pleasure to meet you!” Tenna smiled broadly, and worried for a bit he showed too many teeth, but this was getting exhausting. Still their passion and enthusiasm wasn't that bad. They didn't seem to be straight hacks like Spamton had said they were, they were just passionate. “It's great to meet the more dedicated viewers.”

“You are a lot bigger than what I’ve seen on TV, like wow no one can really prepare you for it, can they? Isn't it the TV itself that's supposed to make everything else look bigger?” Sponsor let go of his hand and gestured with their own out in front of them as if they said something rude. “I mean! You must get that a lot!”

“Hahaha, well if it's anything, I can change that to be more accommodating!” Tenna shrunk down enough so that the addisons were around chest-height and fixed his tie out of habit with all the eyes on him. “Hopefully that's better.”

The yellow addison beamed at him in response. “Well, I can already feel the muscles in my neck thanking me later!”

“Now that we’re all here,” Banner started, his orange hue dimming. “Let's get down to business! Mr. Tenna said he wanted to know some things about uh-” He floundered and rubbed his hands together. “Well, maybe I forgot?”

“The 75% off deal comes with an expiration date, you know.” Clicks piped up, with a glance at Banner. “There's a fine print in there, as well. Because apparently we can't spring that type of deal onto all addison parties.” 

I had a feeling there would be a catch if I was interested.

“This isn't about that, I assure you!" Tenna started. "I also assumed it was something a little too good to be true. Not the most effective business strategy, but in no way am I a professional in advertising on the internet!”

There was really no easy way to kick this off, huh? They all looked at him with intrigue as he shut down their offer, even with the catch in mind, as if they now knew he'd gathered them for something extremely important. This would be the first time he'd spoken to… really anyone about his mailman since his… breakdown back in TV world, and much longer since he'd asked anyone about him.

Here… goes nothing.

“No, instead… I wanted to ask you all some questions about Spamton.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the dead silence that followed.

It was tense, and thick, like one could easily cut it into quarters and serve it on rye. It was broken only by the pink addison’s rough glare of an expression as he crossed his arms then a leg over his knee, looking immediately closed off from questioning. Sponsor, so energized only a couple minutes prior, went stone cold, and Survey’s eyes widened as their blue shine dimmed to dull. It was Banner who broke through the silence then with a stammer to his voice.

“S-sorry. We don't…?” He rubbed the back of his neck, in the we-don't-want-to-ask-you-to-leave-but-we-weren’t-expecting-this way. “Reaaaally… talk about him. A-anything else, maybe, you have questions about? Like… the ads we do or-”

They don't talk about him either?!

“No.” Tenna’s frown pulled into a thin line. “Where is he? Why isn't he here? I'm tired of darkners telling me that. They 'don't talk about him’,” He air quoted that with his fingers. “Because when I last left Cyber City, no one could get enough of him! He was everywhere, you couldn't turn the corner without seeing his face. So why is everyone so quiet now?”

“We don't know anything.” Clicks muttered, and he gripped the fabric of his jacket sleeve as he made heavy eye contact with the floor of the boutique. “We’re not answering anything because we don't know. So we wish you'd drop it.”

“What do you mean you don't know?!” Tenna snapped, and immediately the addisons looked taken aback at his volume, all looking up at him now, causing Tenna to mentally back up and take a deep breath.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Okay. Continue.

“...Isn't he the most famous addison in Cyber City? In your dark world?” He swiped an arm in front of him, and tried to ignore how the static crackled in his screen. “He got his dream, right? Getting out of his existing deals and onto something more? Surely word would have gotten around of him getting to that point, right?”

Banner winced. “Oh no… that's not…” 

“Yeah. He got out to escape to your little oasis in television, probably.” The pink addison scowled and bounced his leg impatiently. “One last ditch effort to drag anybody else he could down into his fucking mess.”

Tenna raised a brow at Clicks. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Clicks, we talked about that one. He didn't come in with the TV darkners,” Sponsor added, glancing at Tenna then back to Clicks. “He's not there.”

“What? With me?” Tenna’s brow crinkled, showing his newfound surprise and puzzlement. “He wasn't with me.”

“We know that now, but it was the running theory at the time–”

“Yeah, because where the hell else is he going to run to?! The lightner said he had a shop, but we all checked for it to bring him with us and it wasn't there.” Clicks threw his hands up in the air. “The moment everything collapses, where are you going to go? The only place you still have merit and a name for yourself! It made sense before they all showed up and he wasn't with them. We thought he was fine and made it work over there instead! So I guess now we're all back to the drawing board.”

…

…What?

“C-collapses?” Tenna stammered.

“You didn't know?” Sponsor looked shocked, they all did, each and every one looking up at Tenna.

“...Figures,” Clicks mumbled, absentmindedly moving his ponytail over his shoulder. “Guess he kept you in the dark pretty good. Welcome to the fucking club.”

“Clicks-” Banner shot a nasty glare at the pink addison, then rolled his head to look back at Tenna. “He's like this.”

I could care less. In fact, I feel it too.

“What do you mean collapses?” Tenna pressed.

Each one of the addisons expectantly looked at each other, like none of them wanted to explain what that meant, sharing glances like they were exchanging personalized business cards at a conference.

“...His sales crashed,” It was the yellow addison this time who spoke up, breaking the tension after an audible breath in. “Stocks… plummeting, income clicks stopping completely, the works. He went from soaring numbers to zero overnight. Not almost zero. Zero. It was a shock to us all, we didn't even know a drop like that was possible-”

“A big success story to a complete and utter failure,” Clicks chimed in. “...I knew he was a hack from the beginning. I knew he could never do it by himself. He had to have help. Some insider secret in order to make all that happen. Must have pissed someone off real good.”

His sales…

…

crashed?

That expression. The way his already stark white complexion went more pale than Tenna had ever seen him. The way he bolted, skidding on his heels, out of the room, clinging onto the wall to make the turn to leave, as if it would gain him some momentum. What Tenna thought was an exaggerated way to run away from him, from their contract, from their future…

The inside of his chest felt cold and hollow, like he was going to be sick.

“W-we thought he ran off back to you. Or I guess maybe it was to another dark world,” Banner didn't make eye contact and folded his hands over each other. “We didn't know the extent of his connections before he disappeared, heck, no one has even seen him since. It's like he vanished into thin air. Though Survey was in the mansion on his eviction day–”

Evicted?!

“He was evicted…?” Tenna asked in a whisper.

Of course he was evicted, that had to be the only follow-up with how exclusive the invite seemed to be to have a room in the mansion, if Spamton's words were anything to go by back then. Still, the information was coming in faster than Tenna could really process it all.

“More like thrown out. I heard it got ugly,” The pink addison added the details like it was seasoning on a bland meal. “At least from the mansion staff. He was begging to stay and apparently still trying to bargain. I heard they had to drag him out by force. Pathetic, if you ask me. If you know you're going to be chucked out, at least leave with your head held high.”

A picture popped in Tenna’s mind of swatchlings holding a screaming and flailing too-small addison by his arms, as he pleaded to no one who would listen to stay in the mansion, kicking and wailing in empty and unwanted deals.

And Tenna wasn't there to help him or defend him in any way, not even to witness.

“Did you see anything while you were there? Do you know anything? Where he might have ran off to?!” Tenna turned toward the blue addison, who'd been silent this entire time, and almost wished he hadn't, at least not with his voice raised. The blue addison looked distraught, holding their hand over their mouth with their eyes open so wide the CRT could see how they watered from the subject matter obviously affecting them.

From the corner of his screen, he could feel the orange addison looking at him as he spoke. “Look, Mr. Tenna, Surv’s been-”

“I haven't been anything. I’m fine.” They removed their hand from their mouth and shakily inhaled, their gaze growing serious and dark. “I haven't talked about it in a while, is all. No one's ever… asked.”

“Why?!” Tenna once again raised his voice, and unintentionally grew in height to the point he was before he accommodated the addison quartet. He couldn't help it, his heart was racing and the narrative he had built about his little mailman’s abandonment was crumbling all around him with each revelation. “Why won't anyone talk about him?! What, do you cyber darkners just want to erase everything he ever did?!”

The addisons cowered at Tenna’s unexpected reaction, and Clicks shot up to his feet to be standing along with the rest of them. Again, a shared silence between the four, but this time there were higher stakes, at the expense of saying the wrong thing to their new potential business partner.

“Th-they… n-no one wants to go down like him. There's some… m-misconception,” The orange addison stammered. “He's like… a cautionary tale in cyber world. No one wants what happened to him to r-repeat. So no one talks about him!”

You all turned him into a curse, basically. You're all SICK.

Isn't that what he was, though? He made my life a living hell juggling what he left behind. Trying to do his part in the show as well as, if not better than mine to retain viewership! I’m no salesman, I’m an entertainer!

Why didn't he just come see me?! I told him! I told him there'd always be a place for him with me!

“His drop in fame was just sudden. No one could really comprehend it when it hit the newsfeed.” Sponsor carried on. “Like, imagine you go from where he was to completely irrelevant just the next day or the next hour. It just crashed! It's all anybody could talk about until the eviction went public. Then nothing. Survey at least went to check on him-”

Tenna once again shifted his attention to the blue addison, but this time it was undeterred, unmoving, fixed. They glanced up at him warily, and then held their arms close to their midsection.

“Did you see him? Was… was he okay?” Tenna asked, and he inwardly cringed at how his voice sounded. “Tell me he was okay, at least.”

He felt an eerie paralyzing numbness when they shook their head. The response was barely missable, as if they didn't want to provide it, but the strength of their own guilt somehow made them.

“I didn't see him,” Survey began, and lowered their head, their shoulder-length hair falling in front of their face. “I looked everywhere in his room, it was empty at that point, and… trashed… but he wasn't there. Only… the phone he left behind.”

Tenna’s chest caved into itself, as whatever remained of something that could feel and beat was left in shards that collapsed to the bottom of his stomach. He felt himself shrink back down, the stress ebbing away into something new. A restricting, gut-curdling type of fear and distress that was more potent than common rage or stress could ever morph or disguise itself to be.

“Oh here we go with the phone again,” Clicks scoffed and crossed his arms. “Before they start, there was nothing there. No one needs to hear a ghost story right now right as we're about to make a deal–”

“Shut the fuck up, Clicks!” The blue addison blazed bright as their face twisted into a scowl. “I know what I heard!” Their expression softened as their hue dimmed, and Tenna didn't remember the last time an addison had looked so defeated, save for that one at his lower points. “I know what I heard…” They finished, their voice drifting off.

They heard something?

If they heard something that means there was someone there.

That it wasn't a scam after all. Something just… went wrong.

“...You heard something.” Tenna said in a declarative tone, as if there was no other answer. He couldn't help himself from approaching the blue addison in curiosity.

“Please tell me,” His voice felt faint with desperation as he hoped he hadn't already messed this encounter up with the addisons enough for them to clam up now. “Please. I’ve been wanting to know for years. What happened to him, I mean.”

He could feel all the other addisons’ gazes at his back, no doubt with mixed expressions of shock and horror, each one of their computerized hues dimming as they stared, but the only thing that mattered now in the world for Tenna was whatever came out of this blue addison’s mouth. As they stayed silent, Tenna’s gaze focused and he gripped their shoulder with one hand. This got them to look up at him in surprise.

“He left a phone call in our last conversation too. But when I listened to the other line, there was nobody there. For years I assumed that was the only answer I was going to get. But I need to know. No matter what it was.”

Survey’s lip trembled as they grit their teeth and looked back down, face twisting in distress. “It was hanging off the handle. I th-thought I could talk to whoever he was last talking to, see where he went… but when I picked it up… someone was on the other line but it was garbled and distorted and didn't make sense. It was like they talked through a poor signal, but also like if there wasn't a signal at all. The best way I could describe it is it was garbage noise.”

“Like feedback? A glitch?”

“Feedback is the closest answer, but it wasn't even like that. It wasn't anything I’d ever heard before or have come to hear since. Whoever he was talking to, it… well, I don't know who they were. What… it was.”

Tenna let go of the addison’s shoulder, letting his arm fall limply to his side. His face fell and screen dimmed as he backed away from the addisons. 

It wasn't a scam. This whole time it wasn't a scam. 

But he still LEFT. Don't get distracted! He still left me! I told him, I TOLD. HIM. He'd have a place to stay, and if he was in trouble, that I’d help him! He still abandoned me. He CHOSE this.

No, something must have happened.

Something… bad.

Tenna gripped the corner of his head and his brow crinkled, shoulders falling slack in defeat.

“...Is he even alive anymore?”

He hadn't intended to say that, it just slipped out like everything else, but it was immediately obvious the addisons heard it by their collective silence once again.

“We don't know,” Banner pushed his hands in his pockets. “We've talked about it, Survey looked for him, but there's no trace of him.”

“Again, just ‘poof’. Gone.” Clicks made a gesture with his hand of something poofing away. “Swatch was still selling his merchandise in the color cafe, but it's all since been rebranded. There were some of his advertising posters left behind, but the majority of them had been sealed over or thrown away by the time the fountain closed.” The last part he had mumbled under his breath, with a grumbling bite to his words.

Sponsor slumped. “I hope he's not dead. Too many cyber darkners turn to stone when they're deleted or no longer belong to their originating dark world. A-and when you're like that, anything can happen to y-”

Banner elbowed Sponsor, yet gently. cutting them off. “We’re trying to give him answers, not doing whatever you're doing…!” He whispered.

“Wouldn't you want to know too?” Sponsor’s face pinched in irritation and lightly rubbed their arm. 

“Eh, he'd probably get a kick out of that.” Clicks hummed. “Being a stone monument to himself, that is. Too bad he couldn't make himself a larger one.”

“See, and why the fuck would you say that?!” Banner turned towards the pink addison, furious. 

“What?! I just know you're thinking it too after how you treated him! Just because you’re getting a deal from Tenna doesn't mean you can just parade yourself around as always-having-been-on-Spamton’s-side, when you haven't! We all haven't! None of us are exempt! So why would you be now?!”

“Can we not fight about this again?” Survey stepped in, glaring at Clicks. “You remember the last time we fought about Spamton. It's not worth it. We can't go back to being like that. We’re a team.” They sighed and hung their head. “We have our differences, but he's gone. And he's not coming back. So let's just forget about it altogether. Just…! Forget it.”

It must have been a while since they've talked about him.

It's been a while since… anyone has from their world apparently.

Has it just been me? Am I the only one who cares that he happened? The only one that's trying to keep him from being erased?

…

It doesn't matter. 

He never made it out after all, he never made it big, who knows where he is? He's probably dead, and if he's not, he's not coming back.

I can't believe I wasn't there for him. I can't believe he just… left and didn't come to me when he was in trouble. 

Didn't he…

trust me? Didn't we have something special?

What if he couldn't?

What if he didn't have time? What if he couldn't get to me? 

No, he could, don't kid yourself. He could call, he left his phone! He just wanted nothing to do with you. He'd rather fail than suck down his shitty pride, you remember how he was. 

Is. 

Was.

…

He never made it out, regardless.

Oh god, why'd he leave me when I could have… I could have been there…?

…

…

...

I can't believe that puppet…

He LIED to me.

Tenna bared his teeth upon the realization, tensing and his fists clenched at his sides, nails near puncturing the gloves that contained them with the strength his fists were balled at.

He didn't know anything after all, 

at least nothing that he can't imitate from TV. Like some sort of ventriloquist dummy. Reciting his commercials doesn't prove anything.

And he weaseled his way around my questions! Everything I asked! It makes so much SENSE, the drinking, the distracting advertisements! The HEALING SPELL.

It was all transactional! To keep my mouth shut! To keep my focus on other things! To distract from the fact…

He doesn't know a damn thing! 

Not about Spamton, not about anyone!

He's just been USING me! It's just as I thought!

Tenna’s hands shot up to grip his antennas, minding the bandage on the broken one as his mind raced. He had to keep himself under control.

That's why he's been so quiet! That's why he’s been dodging questions! He lied and he's been lying this whole damn time!

He knows it too! He knew he could and that I’d fall for it!

“That… little bastard.” Tenna growled, under his breath, All the addisons redirected their collective attention towards him from where they talked in their small group.

“Uh, what?” Banner asked, his voice cautious. “You okay, Mr. Tenna? Hope this wasn't too much for you–”

“I’m fine, I’m fine-! Just a little… haha! Just had a thought or two. Love it when that happens! Love it. When that. happens.” 

Kick him out is what I'm going to do! Right to the curb! RIGHT off the air! I will MAKE HIM REGRET ever conning me like that. Filling me with false hope! Maybe the swatchlings had the right idea! Why did I even cover for him the first time?!

So he's gone… and he's never coming back…

“So…! Where were we? Uhm,” Tenna realized the addisons were looking at him nervously, like they were looking at someone deranged, and he took his hands off his antennas and fixed his tie, brushing down his suit absentmindedly and–

...Brushed it… down again. Slower this time. Thinking he'd imagined the way his fingers curved over an object in his interior pocket. 

I don't remember putting anything in there.

Curiously, Tenna slipped his hand inside his jacket, the ends of his fingers hooking onto something solid, before he removed them from the fabric–

And froze.

In his hand he held a pair of pink and yellow mirrored glasses.

The puppet’s glasses.

What…

what am I doing with these?!

The addisons all looked perplexed, each one looking down at the shades, as if wondering what this was about.

“Hey, those are the lightner’s glasses they were wearing!” Sponsor said, pointing at the pink and yellow shades. 

“Yeah,” Survey wilted. “Right after they asked us for more details on him after saying where he was running his shop.”

“Tch,” The pink addison scoffed and put his hands on his hips. “Wherever they pop up, someone prying into that big shot’s disappearance will too. Talk about ghost stories. You'd think they're possessed. Once was enough, but twice? You know if I had a nickel-”

“They're not possessed, oh my god, Clicks!” Banner threw up his hands.

“Are you holding onto them? For the lightner?” Sponsor interjected. “You know, I run a side gig as a glasses repair addison. That frame looks pretty bent, maybe I could adjust them for them if they wanted-”

If these are with me…

then where is he?!

Did he run away?!

I need to get back! I need to get back right now!

“Sorry!” Tenna closed his fist around the glasses, securing them by his side, and smiled wide at the addisons, for sure now showing way too many teeth. “I hadn't thought I’d left them in this tailcoat and was surprised to find them. But I have to go. I have to take care of something.”

Tenna could feel his screen heating up with the climbing paranoia and confusion and curled his fist tighter around the glasses. The addisons shared concerned side-eyes, but Tenna turned back to them and clasped his hands, slightly bowing in their direction.

“We’ll keep in touch! It was very enlightening talking with each and every one of you! You each were great! You’ll all hear from me really soon and we'll sort out commercial details, just as discussed, you have my word.”

Is he trying to tell me something by leaving his glasses with me?! 

“Okay,” Banner smiled, despondent and absent, much different than the salesman’s greeting Tenna had walked in on. “You know where to find us.”

“Abso-tutely!” Even while in a mocking, cheery tone towards the addisons, Tenna’s screen spazzed, glitching briefly to black and back. He needed to know where that puppet was RIGHT NOW. “Give me a couple days to get things situated, then we'll meet again to look over contracts.”

Sponsor was looking down as they gripped their wrist without a word, and Clicks flashed him his own salesman’s grin, though it was obviously strained.

“Can't wait to work with you.” The pink addison forcibly said as he attempted a polite wave.

With a quick turn on his heel towards the door, Tenna felt his screen short out again and noticed how the heat in his head had climbed. With one shaking hand on the handle of the glass entrance he heard a small voice behind him.

“Mr. Tenna, we’re so sorry about Spamton.” It was the blue addison who spoke, and the CRT barely screeched to a stop. “It was our fault he left. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't blame myself.”

“Surv?” Banner sounded surprised. “Where is this coming from?”

“This is so stupid...” The pink addison mumbled. 

“What I’m saying is we know how you feel.” Survey continued. “And we’re sorry. We’re truly, truly sorry.”

…

…

Tenna’s upper lip curled with confusion, with fury, and with a powerlessness he didn't know he could feel until just now. He needed to GO, not listen to these simple sympathies–

He'd rather fail than confide in me. He’d rather lose everything he had than commit to what we had. 

I was right there, Big Shot. Why didn't you at least tell me goodbye if something went wrong? 

Now I'll never see you again.

And who's fault is that?

“...If we could have been on the same page, I could have done something for him, but we weren't in the end. I'd say it's his own fault for what happened to him.”

Without even allowing the various shades of salesmen to respond, Tenna barged out the door, already picking up the pace in a hurry. He marched through the streets of castle town, steady and unstoppable, his movements rigid with every step placed with cold intent to return to his room and hope the puppet was still there.

Addisons?!

He went to the ADDISONS?!

ANYBODY ELSE I COULD DEAL WITH! But the ADDISONS?!

The dealmaker was raging, although dead silent and immeasurably still. He'd almost given himself away with that little vocal slip up of his, where thankfully they decided to disregard a voice from a body that wasn't there. Spamton would have to thank himself for coming up with that nifty idea to compress his code into his glasses, not just because he could gift his magic to the lightners whenever they'd need it, as well as get them extra funds with his pickpocketing skills, but ALSO to fool darkners who had no BUSINESS knowing he was still around.

No.

No, no, no.

For those stupid salesmen,

If he was still in possession of the Neo body, and could tower above those that were always just a little bit taller, just a little bit more capable, just made a little bit better than him, he could blast them into smithereens with the [[Light]] at his disposal. 

But now that the Neo plan was SHELVED, he was effectively cornered, and sitting through this encounter had to be one of the hardest things he's had to do ever since the mansion staff installed the teacup trap in the basement. Those original darkners who cemented in the reality he was lesser and he was smaller and not as good as them… the ones who made him want to change his fate in the first place…

And Tenna had led him…

RIGHT. TO THEM?!

He'd allow their exposition to the lightners once without getting too upset, frankly because was still a little down in the dumps after downgrading from his godlike form, along with a few other minor things in such a short span of time like his sense of purpose, his hope for a [[Bigger]] tomorrow, two decades worth of planning and hard labor…

Little things like that.

But with Tenna?

He felt like he could implode, or disintegrate on the spot, or be crushed by a falling everything, or be ran over, stomped on, thrown in a centrifuge, anything, everything would hurt less than the anguish and the shame he felt in the moment.

Part of him during the conversation wanted to escape his place in Tenna’s pocket, scale up to the top of that too-tall TV, and then proceed to point down and belittle all those addisons that told him for years he was never enough, even if they hadn't said it to him outright. 

Who are they kidding, they'll never get to be big shots like I was! Realize right this second that Tenna is also using you idiots to get what he wants! 

The thought that Tenna even… offered them something like that though had Spamton’s code boiling over.

It made it extremely hard to contain himself- thus the outburst.

Why not me?! I’m still capable! I’m–! I’m four times as experienced! Four times as capable! As any of them! 

… 

…

I can't even say a full sentence without self-destructing.

…

I just…

wanted him to believe I could do it. That I could make it [Big] without him.

…

He did for a little bit. He believed I could do it for a little bit.

Until those damn addisons.

As soon as he took form again, he was going to sink his teeth into the first thing with any sort of give. He was going to tear his hair out and kick and writhe at the absolute disaster this entire situation had become. He was going to tear that television apart with his own bare hands.

Every line, every fucking line of delivery from those addisons had him seeing red, and he thanked anybody who wouldn't listen that he didn't have a pulse as glasses because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep that heartbeat from being audible. 

At his reluctance to reveal himself to the addisons, now he couldn't even face Tenna again…! He'd heard how the TV darkner sounded just now, knew that whatever lies Spamton came up with would fall on either deaf or uncaring ears. He couldn't undo all of that, not with all the godliness and charm in any dark world.

Those salesmen… they ruined this for him.

They…

…

they sounded like they missed him.

…

They wouldn't upon knowing the truth. No one would, that's why he was here and in this situation in the first place with Tenna at the moment. Trying, failing to cover it all up. This was his one-time reward for falling with at least some discordant grace– being able to hide his face forever, but it came with a catch as things often do: to stay hidden.

And stay hidden he did when his hiding spot was revealed. Like a scene out of a nightmare, there was pressure at the rim of his frames and then light. If Spamton had pupils, he'd be blinking them repeatedly to get his eyes to adjust.

To see the five darkners that he did NOT want to see like this.

He wanted to scream at him. Yell and curse and pound his fists against that stupid screen of his until he shattered. Until he could no longer see his pink and yellow object-like reflection in his face. The addisons of course would have no idea along with Tenna what the dealmakers actually were, but seeing them make direct eye contact with him after so long…

As they looked at him while they hadn't had a clue in the world he was in there.

The cherry on top of it all though?

Enough to wrap everything up in a nice little box and slap a bow on it?

‘I'd say it's his own fault for what happened to him.’

EAT SHIT, CATHODE.

FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. 

For crying out loud I want you to hurt so bad.

I want you to feel everything I do right now. Except worse. So, so much worse. 

How can you live thinking that?! 

… 

I have to do something.

A door burst open and Spamton remembered his place currently, which was clutched tightly in the larger darkner’s hand. 

“Hey! Neo? Are you in here? You uh, left your glasses! Inconspicuously. With me. Really wondering why that is! Maybe we could have a good. FUN. Pleasant. Conversation about it? Right now?”

It didn't sound like it was going to be that good or that pleasant, even with the TV’s extra dramatics.

“So get up and talk to me-!” Another door opened and Tenna’s words cut off. “...Okay, this is enough! Come on out, you don't need to hide from me! I know what happened! I know you're been lying about what you told me! And you know? I’m pretty damn pissed about that! But maybe I’ll give you the chance to explain if you just–”

Spamton waited to Tenna’s immediate silence, some quivering breaths, a nervous gulp. 

“Little… puppet man? Haha…! Where are you!? You're not… in the bedroom! Which is fine! You can talk to me! I did mention we'd have a talk that is fun and pleasant, right? Why would it ever come across as anything else!?”

More footsteps, dress shoes against dressing room inspired floors, the ‘clacking’ sounds they made becoming more restless, turning into skids and shuffles, as Tenna traveled from room to room.

“...Neo?” Tenna gently spoke, and Spamton pictured the CRT’s panicked expression based on how his voice sounded. “You have to have a reason for…! Lying to me and claiming you know anything…! I mean, why would anyone do that unless you were going to tell me something really important, right?! Right?! ”

More silence. Spamton didn't dare say a word.

…

How dare you.

How much longer do you think you can get away with this?

“...Did he leave? He left, didn't he? He wasn't in a good mood and then…! The thing with the… his face and…! Shit…! Shit!” 

Careful, cathode. Those censors might hear you, or are you free of that little burden now? Because of course you are. Why wouldn't you be? 

"I'm so STUPID. Of course he would run away! Of course he would leave! Everyone does once my use to them runs out! If he was lying that makes it even more obvious! Dammit, why'd I ever leave him alone?!"

He kicked something violently across the room. It sounded like one of the boxes of his items from TV world, and his breathing calmed afterward. Spamton heard some items clatter to the ground, as well as another roll away.

"I'm not... accomplishing anything...by talking to myself.” Tenna sighed and lifted the mirrored glasses, looking at them somberly, tilting them ever so slightly as if to catch the light or perhaps to see his reflection in them. He rubbed the side of his head, dragging his hand down it and to his neck in frustration.

Tenna sat down with him on what sounded like the bed. “...You're a cruddy businessman, you know that right? Leaving before I even got to pay you for the little angel.” 

Is he… talking to me? 

…Don't say anything.

“Spamton would at least know better.” Tenna seemed to wilt, and shrink at the mention. “Or… would he? I can't say anymore. Apparently I didn't know him as well as I thought. But... that's the one thing that hasn't changed today.”

The dealmaker silently looked on as Tenna continued to decrease in size, before setting the glasses off to the side and grasping his head in his hands. Down, down, and down further still until he was roughly the size of one of the dealmaker’s lenses.

The mini CRT crossed his legs in front of him, hunched and defeated, as he looked straight ahead into the multicolored lenses of the dealmakers, and Spamton could almost see static tears flicker gently in on his screen.

“He didn't even call me...”

...

I couldn't. But you wouldn't understand.

You don't get to miss me. Not after it was you that got me into this mess. This mess that pulled me away from my life, from my future, from ever seeing the top.

I could have seen what it looked like if I hadn't fallen for your shitty contract. If you hadn't taken advantage of me. Of us. I could have won over all of them. Over you.

You'd still hate me. Or worse. Pity me. But not as much as I hate and pity you.

...

You will hate me. No matter what.

...

It would be easier for both of them if the prophecy had come to completion.

It would be easier if the television was dead.

Chapter Text

Part of him wanted to reassemble his prior form and take the miniature CRT in his hands as he was now. It was something about having the normally high-on-life darkner so small and vulnerable in front of him right now that set something off in Spamton that made him want to hold him tight and never, ever let go.

Not until, at least, he was able to break the already fragile screen and exterior until nothing remained but an unmoving, smoking frame of useless scrap.

…

There was too much that could go wrong, even with this illustration already picking up color in his mind. The dealmaker had the element of surprise, but the moment Tenna caught on, it'd be over as quick as it'd began, after all, Tenna had the advantage- and the luck. Being Neo-less had its continuing collection of drawbacks, with the ever-growing cons list of losing his robotic self now getting awfully lengthy at this point.

Don't think of Neo. What's going on now?

It had still taken Tenna awhile to get up, that was, groaning and holding his head and returning to his too-tall normal, causing the dealmaker some dizziness as he'd just gotten used to focusing on the him-sized Tenna from seconds earlier.

He was sniffling, screen depicting light trails of scattered static trails, as he dragged his hands down his face. Tenna made a passing glance at the glasses, but ultimately his expression was so defeated, and though the dealmaker wishfully thought he'd mumble some thoughts aloud, he didn't. Instead, he looked as though he was keeping the conversation inside that clunky head of his.

Probably wrought with different ways he could curse Spamton's name. Or belittle him mentally. How many times was “my downfall was bad but at least I wasn't turned into a known warning of what not to become by everyone who used to know me” cycling around? Bouncing around through his metal tubes and filaments?

Why was Spamton even wondering this? It's not like he would ever get to hear. 

… 

The dealmaker watched as the CRT silently sat on the edge of the bed, staring off into nothing, his expression blank and drained and lifeless. He looked like absolutely so much was on his mind, but the only tell that gave anything more than that away was the slight twinge in his brow. 

The glasses wondered if Tenna had wanted more sleep this morning after their shared night together, and him talking to the addisons only worsened the discomfort he was in. 

…Maybe he could have coaxed the CRT back to sleep this morning. Done away with all of the dramatics and the need to keep him in the dark so they could just… lie together like they did the night prior. He couldn't be asking questions about a forgotten big shot if he was tending to a headache.

That might have been the best pathway at the time.

After all, Tenna’s arms were always the safest place to be, at least for the salesman. Because in there, nothing would control him, his limbs weren't yanked around, his words remained unedited, the visions of darker realities and his nonexistence in it, as well as inevitable blades slicing through metal and wire clumps were a far away factor that was dwarfed by… how warm his exterior felt to the touch. How soft his lips were when landing a securing kiss on his forehead. 

…

It was too late for that now, the damage had been done already, but if things were different, then maybe the morning would have gone that direction. Tenna just seemed too adamant to know what Spamton kept behind closed teeth. Well now he knew. And now there was no going back.

Tenna still looked exhausted after it all as he looked at the dealmakers and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and dragging his hand down to weakly hang onto it. There appeared to be so much he wanted to say, and truthfully it was unsettling to see the former exuberant host harboring this level of melancholic hopelessness. It reminded Spamton of seeing him, armless and crumpled in the snow, screen wrecked with cracks and nicks just strewn all over it. Everything that could have been repaired, but all it took was the dedication and sympathy from a single lightner.

…If…

…If he hadn't lured Kris by themself to retrieve the emptydisk for him… would their friends have also helped him?

No. No, that's not how that worked.

Tenna got lucky. A darkner that's so big and bulky and burdensome and outdated had one outcome for them, and Tenna postponed it as long as he could, but that kindness from the lightners… it didn't happen to just anybody. So it all amounted to luck and nothing else.

…

What Spamton was hoping would happen eventually did, and Tenna set the glasses on the nightstand by the bed and rolled onto his side, still looking at him as his screen dimmed. He then rolled over onto his back, sliding one arm behind his head, and the screen cut to black in one single flash.

...

No time like the present.

The dealmaker refocused his energy into reforming his prior body, and green lines of digitized code appeared around the glasses as he came back together. Reformation took a second, but as he became more aware of his torso and limbs returning in combing and combining pixels, he flexed his fingers experimentally, hearing that scuffing sound of plastic etching against plastic. Spamton sat on the nightstand and warily eyed the sleeping TV darkner beside him as the last of his code came together in his face.

Maybe going along with this was cheating, but when had he ever played fair in an unfair match? If a game was rigged against him, he'd play it like it was. And that's what this was. An unfair match. Luck and nothing else.

The level of resentment Spamton felt towards the TV caused him to bare his teeth and scoot off the nightstand. This would be easier if he'd kept Neo, and a glitch flickered past his face as he seethed, but no, here he had to be creative again. Surely there was something he could use to get the job done, maybe something Tenna owned that he brought over from his dark world? It couldn't be that heavy, but yet it also had to be weighted enough to cause irreversible damage–

In Spamton’s trek around the room he stumbled on an object and it rolled under his foot. A small gasp escaped him and he desperately tried to catch his footing by rapidly stepping forward and restabilizing his balance. 

With a panicked look at Tenna, a thought crossed through Spamton's mind he had just lost his opportunity and that the commotion would wake him but thankfully for him, the TV darkner continued to be unresponsive. Sighing and brow furrowing in frustration, Spamton’s attention shot so fast towards the offending item that his neck made a soft crack.

It was a miniature golden Tenna figurine, in a dynamic showman’s pose, a shrunken down imitation of the much larger ones that filled the studio like their own population of unmoving residents. This one was fashioned on top of a small rounded base, which was most likely what Spamton had stepped on.

He remembered the box Tenna had kicked before he set the dealmakers down and sure enough, Spamton glanced to his side, seeing the same toppled box he heard, a couple more gold figurines and some other items that looked as if they belonged in the former studio's gift shop strewn over the floor. He'd rooted through the box yesterday. He knew what was inside. He'd held these figures before.

Curiously, Spamton lifted the figurine he tripped on in his hand. It had some definite bulk to it but didn't weigh too much to hinder him being able to effectively handle it. His grip grew tighter, as his mind wandered to Tenna at this size, and how he couldn't do anything there with the risk the host wouldn't stay that way for very long without shooting back up in height and mass. There was an irony here that Spamton would have laughed about, if this object was the object of the gameshow host's undoing, but instead he just grinned- manic and frenzied, paired imperfectly with eyes so dull and drowning in a burdened rage.

This… would work.

Spamton snuck towards the side of the bed and climbed carefully on top, lifting himself with caution as to not cause too much of a disturbance on the mattress, all the while not taking his eyes off of Tenna. He stared, unblinking, as with every inch closer he got, it felt as though the figurine got one pound heavier. Years of accessing various dumpsters across cyber city had granted him the stealth to do this without being noticed, because the first couple years of infiltrating locked dumpsters resulted in him being caught and being dealt with the same way all scavengers are dealt with. So steady and unnoticed was his best bet for success.

As soon as he had pulled his knees on the bed so he was knelt beside Tenna, he slid his leg over the larger darkner’s chest, slowly, second by second, resisting the urge to wake him and moving between the breaths below him. There was only movement when his chest fell, and then he'd freeze when it rose again, as to remain completely undetected with what he was about to do. 

One more movement. One more freeze. The puppet’s little heart beat in tandem with Tenna’s below him. He could feel it now against his thigh as he now perched himself on the taller darkner’s chest, and he rose and fell with it now in his position. Spamton looked with a gigantic mix of longing, with pain, with the peak of jealousy, agony and hurt, at Tenna’s darkened screen and the soft feel of television fuzz coming from it.  

In seconds, it wouldn't be there anymore.

There was this… burning, aching crevice in his chest that felt like it was splitting him open the closer he got to acting.  After all he'd done, after all he became, still, there was no escaping this creature he'd morphed into. But after twenty years of living down the same sin, the same cruel, agonizing error... the one who lured him in like the starved to a buffet was finally going to stop getting off scott-free.

After all, how much time would pass before Tenna went from blaming him for the Big Shot’s downfall, to feeling like he deserved everything he'd gotten as a consequence? If he didn't already…

Spamton clutched the miniature golden tenna statue with both hands, and noticed them shaking, his palms clammy, the plastic exterior unable to keep the strongest of grips on the statue. 

It’s simpler this way. It's easier this way. I'm just doing what should have been done earlier. 

He'd even be an elusive threat- the only ones really in tune about their fallout would be… him and a corpse. No one would know. No one even knew he was here.

Lining up the head of the figurine straight out in front of him with the middle of Tenna’s screen, his thumbs overlapped, right at the bridge of the taller darkner’s nose…

He didn't want to do this.

Spamton raised the mini golden tenna statue up and over his head in one smooth motion, slightly rocking backward with the speed he did it. His mind raced when looking at the unconscious screen. It was completely black, but if Spamton stared at it long enough, he could still picture how it was when it was active, subtle light from it reflecting off of nearly everything in its proximity. The one glow he remembered being swaddled in, as the light static tickled his face from light pecks of Tenna’s lips on his cheek, his forehead, the sides of his face…

The light hum of electricity as they shared their most intimate moments, and Spamton took great care in letting himself be absorbed in the sound as he curled in closer to the larger darkner, remembering that he had him, completely and utterly, to himself. And in return, he was his little mailman, his spammy, his Big Shot, his connection to relevance and the right answers.

This was the only other living darkner on this side of the fountain that gave him size and mass where it mattered, gave him a pedestal to make him feel so much bigger than he'd originally been fashioned to be in his default state, then proceeded to treat him as the size he wanted to be at. Tenna made non-reality real enough to exist in, even with the burden of nonexistence. He offered Tenna all the advice he could give, and in return, Tenna's broadcast was, to him, the glow of reverence, and the right spotlight.

Remember what he took from you.

Spamton realized his hands were trembling an awful lot now, and monochrome snow danced in like whispers into his glasses and into his hearing, making the atmosphere feel like it was hissing all around him. He'd held the statue over his head about to strike for a moment now, and noticed his breath had stopped– yet his heart thundered on. 

The pouring of wine into respective glasses as the two sat on Tenna’s dressing room couch, before the CRT had revealed that their budget could be expanded for more promotional television deals, and that Tenna wanted his favorite Big Shot as the face for every single one. 

The shared laughter in some storyboarded ideas, some catchy one-off advertisement phrases, the way Tenna slung his arm over his shoulders and pulled him in close. A slight smell of burning dust and sweet ozone as his exterior felt hot to the touch. For the first time in his life Spamton had felt important in a larger scheme, not just a stunted salesman to throw to the wayside. No wonder he'd been effectively sweet talked to signing, no, Spamton knew this all had to be too good to be true, it had to be. There was a trick here, there was a catch.

Tenna had wanted access to his benefactor’s advice. The one, strictly forbidden, thing he was prohibited from disclosing to any darkner under any circumstances. Tenna wanted a slice of the spotlight as well, and it was an instant conclusion that perhaps he'd been gunning for this for a while. Spamton still remembered the mood shifting into something more inconspicuous, something that had him squirming out of the larger darkner’s hold, hands going to his own hair and smoothing it back anxiously. He shut that proposition down as fast as it had come up, but… then…

Tenna bringing their partnership into question, how, if they both knew what choices to make, success would be easier to obtain between the two of them. Not one but a team of Big Shots, the title now reserved just for the two of them. Surely this wasn't too bad of an argument; they were partners after all. 

Hell, everything Tenna had given him was an open plain that had him build himself up from even a royal salesman in the city with the rise of email! There was more here. He could be more. There was even the slight possibility that the story could be… changed if Tenna knew what he was in for. Maybe… he could even be saved. And if he couldn't, then Spamton wouldn't have to wait too long for the inevitable! The risk, if there was any, was low enough… surely it would be fine…

Until the phone call.

…

…

‘Unfortunately, your refusal to comply with the set instructions has led to your access to my information being revoked. There will be immediate repercussions. This can not be undone.’

But I followed instructions! I did everything you asked! I said everything you wanted me to say! I did nothing but follow your cues! He’s the one that betrayed me! I played my part with everything I had!

Punish him, not me!

He shouldn't get to live knowing what became of my life, then blame it all on me! I could have seen so many things without him! 

In retrospect, it was asinine he had opted to nearly sign that contract and reveal the secret to [Heaven] when Tenna wasn't even going to make it to the gates. It was like co-signing with someone already being ordered to be disassembled. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to put his image on the back burner of his mind as he was replaced with the promise to the holy sanctuary that was Neo. Neo had been the only thing that kept him intact– kept him focused. Kept him real. He'd forget about Tenna, he'd forget all about him.

I’ll forget again. I’ll find something else. 

There was nothing else. Neo was gone. He was trapped by fate. This is what he was going to live as in his nonexistence for the rest of his conception of time until he rotted and was devoid of purpose.

I’ll forget again. I have something else. I’ll forget him.

Tenna was here, though. He’d avoided the worst of the prophecy’s plans for him. But can someone in their predicament truly cheat death? Truly cheat obsolescence? Rise again from being irrelevant? Learn to live after being deemed beyond repair?

I DIDN’T!!!! AND I FOLLOWED EVERY INSTRUCTION I WAS GIVEN! I DIDN’T MESS UP ONCE UNTIL THEN! I’M NOT DISOBEDIENT! I DID WHAT I WAS TOLD!

…

Spamton was seething, his brow furrowed and his previously held breath released and began to pick up as he readjusted his grip on the statue, vision narrowing at the screen below him. Just a couple swings and it would be over, perhaps Tenna wouldn't even try to struggle. Glass shards flying across the bedsheets with every swing, exposed wires, coils, capacitors, dials and other parts strewn across the room–

JUST DO IT ALREADY!!!!!

I can't… 

I can't do this to him…

Something worse will happen to him! His luck has to run out eventually!

He cost me EVERYTHING.

Yes, that was a way to justify it! His luck had to run out eventually! So if anything, Spamton justified this by just drawing the line of fate erased too early. In any other situation, the lord of screens would have fallen! THAT was how it was supposed to happen! 

Thank [Heaven] it didn't. I've had to live with that for so long. I wish I could have told you. I wish I could tell you now! But now you're here!

Why didn’t I get that treatment?! When I fell as Neo, they could have at least tried to reanimate me! It's not fair! Why do YOU get the favor of the lightners who promise to rehome you when I don't get any of that?! You didn't even have to give them anything! I had to give them everything I am!

I don't regret it… maybe it's good it's me… they might need help learning how to break their own strings one of these days, they're good kids. But I still… I worked so hard, Tenna. I worked so hard. Every day of my life I worked so hard. I followed every instruction of his and it only got me tied up. It cost me…

HE COST ME.

It wasn't my fault! It WASN’T my fault! Why are YOU good enough to have fate change?! But when I try to do it, I GET TURNED INTO THIS?! 

It wasn't fair. It wasn't FAIR. 

YOU HAVE TO DIE!!

“What… are you doing?”

Spamton balked at the screen below him, white light seeping through the static that had recently drowned his glasses in its monochrome snow. A glitch destabilized the snow and more light bled in until his vision clarified itself. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held, and it felt like it came out like an icy gust of air.

He’d spaced out. Right when he-

Tenna had woken up and was looking at him with fear, his attention momentarily catching the glint of the golden statue over the smaller one’s head. Spamton had noticed just now how tense he felt under him, as if Tenna was just waiting for Spamton to strike. Immediately his mind was screaming at him once more, conscious choice trying to swim to the surface as Spamton’s gaze couldn't break away from that terrified face below him.

DO IT!! DO IT NOW!!! 

NO!! I DON’T WANT TO!! DON’T DO IT!!

I HAVE TO! HE CAN’T GET AWAY WITH THIS ANY LONGER! 

HE CAN’T KNOW WHAT I’VE BECOME!

Without further hesitation, Spamton swiftly slammed the statue down with all of his strength–

only for both his wrists to be grabbed by Tenna’s much larger hand, his reaction speed gaining him the advantage in Spamton’s lack of action from before. He'd essentially given him a warning, and now it was all over. 

No.

No it can't be over! I committed to this!

No, no, no!

He couldn't have lucked out again!

It's not fair!

“LE;tT GO.”

“No…!” Tenna’s expression twisted in dismay. “What are you doing with that?”

“IT [doesn’t] MATTER. LET GO.”

“You weren't s-seriously going to…”

His voice trailed off, and for the first time, Spamton's chest swelled with shame that bridged up to his throat. He sounded so scared, so angry, so betrayed.

Tenna shifted, keeping his grip on Spamton’s wrists as he sat up slowly, pushing up with his other arm and having the puppet slide down off of his chest.

“What were you going to do with that?!”

Any words Spamton could have said died in his throat as he sat in the CRT’s lap, looking blankly up at his screen wreaked with distress.

A moment of silence lingered by, and Tenna’s expression morphed into one of realization and hate. 

Seeing this sudden change, Spamton thrashed like his life depended on it, ripping one hand free of Tenna’s hold with the figurine, where he swung the figure behind him and over his head in one, rounded motion, and it struck Tenna in the forehead with a loud ‘crack!’. The CRT cried out loudly and jerked backward, yanking the figurine out of Spamton’s hand in defense, but not before Spamton was able to hit him a second time, roughly in the same spot, the figure making a ear-splitting ‘clang!’ against his face. 

Spamton hadn't even gotten a chance to react then, it was instant, all the air being abruptly squeezed out of him as he was snatched in a rapidly growing hand, only to realize Tenna was shifting to the largest height he'd seen of him in ages. The CRT had quickly gotten to his feet, but just as quickly had to crouch to his knees as the space of the room further began to constrict him. Keeping his free hand on the floor, the back of his head, as well as his shoulders, pressed against the ceiling of the room in his mounting rage. The sound of the bed being pushed into the wall by Tenna’s accelerating size also was heard below.

The much, much larger darkner’s grip went from just securing his arms to his sides to having Spamton be around the size of the hand that held him with the influx of the height Tenna took on. It's like he spared no time in getting to this size, as if the puppet was going to hit him a third time and completely shatter his screen at any unpredictable moment.

Once Spamton was fully trapped, and his darting eyes shut as he resisted against the other’s hand keeping him in place, only then did he glance upward at Tenna’s screen, seeing it fully blacked out. He'd stopped his growth at some point, obviously getting the hint the puppet was going to be going nowhere in these conditions.

“Are you SERIOUS right now?!” Tenna bellowed, brow creased and his hand shaking. “What the heck was going through your mind?!”

Spamton shut his eyes again and he attempted to struggle, his shoulders and torso pinned by Tenna’s index and middle finger respectively, the others clawing into his side. He tried to push his thumb off his chest with one hand and with the other, at least acquire some leverage to push against the middle finger holding that arm down, but not one oversized digit would give. 

“fff[[$&%#]] YOU!!” Spamton spat. “YOU HAVE [Segond chances] I N3vER GOT TO [halved] EVER IN MY LIFE!! AND YOU THINK YOU CAN [[not pay rent]] FOR YOUR [Crimes] BECAUSE YOU GOT A       [kids]?! BECAUSE YOU GOT A [Recently purchased home with lawn]?! BECAUSE YOU GOT A [[Final warning]]?! YOU [[Slime]], THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY [[payout]]!!”

“Is that what this is about?! So you tried to take away everything from me just now because, what, you wanted it instead?! Did you think that was going to work?! You're insane!”

When you phrase it like that, no. 

“DON’T MAKE MY PLANS LOOK LIKE [unattainable grades] WITH YOUR [re-wording]!! HOW ABOUT YOU GO BACK TO BEING [miniature versions] AND WE CAN [[Duke it out]] FROM THERE!”

“Well that's not happening! How do I know you won't try anything funny?”

“YOU HAVE TO ADMIT THIS IS A LITTLE [unfair wages] BUT EVEN STILL I’M NOT GOING TO LET YOU [Winnar] JUST BECAUSE YOUR [just a bit taller] THAN ME!! YOU CAN'T HOLD ME!! IF I STILL HAD [[That Smooth Taste]] I’D BE BREAKING YOUR FAKE [nose], YOUR [mouth]!! YOUR    [[No Eyes Detected]]!!! YOU’D BE PAYING MY [insurnance Bill]!!!!1!1! YOU CAN’T HANDLE ME LIKE A [limp doll] AND GET AWAY WITH IT!!!! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!!!” 

Thrashing his legs and kicking against Tenna’s wrist didn't account for any results either, and the more he flailed, the more panicked he became when he realized he wasn't getting anywhere with this. His breathing became rampant as Tenna’s grip on him tightened exponentially, and Spamton could have sworn one of his claws was digging along, if not into, his side. Just one nudge from the claw and it could rip his jacket, and Spamton didn't want to go looting for more thread if he was potentially in plastic puppet pieces.

“You know what? No. I'm not going to let you go.”

“WHAT?! [pump the breaks] THERE!! [[Stop watching, Start spending!]] [$%#&ING] AROUND!!”

“No! You don't realize what you almost did! You… you almost took everything I was able to get back! Do you not realize everything I've lost already?!”

“I’VE LOST THINGS TOO!! IN FACT, I’VE [[Losing game]] MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW!! EAHEAHEAHAHEA!!1!1! YOU HAVE [[None]]   [0% Margin of Err]  ID3A!! ITS [[#1 Comedy of the summar]]!! WHAT YOU [lost bets] COMPARED TO ME?? IT’S [small potatoes]!!"

“You know, I don't doubt you've lost a lot, and I really wanted to help you before I realized how… AWFUL you really are! You know, we could have gotten along if you didn't lie to me! A-and now if you didn't try to shatter my screen with a-"

“GOTTEN [along with the show]?! GOTTEN ALONG?! EAH;>haAHHAHA##4 HAHEA!!” Spamton threw his head back as much as he could. "YOU THINK WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN ALONG?! WHAT A [joke]!!"

“Shut up! Do you hear a laugh track? No?! So stop laughing! This isn't funny!”

“OH D-DON’T LIKE THAT, HUH?!” Spamton hissed, his face pulled in an animalistic sneer. “DON’T LIKE WHAT THIS [[Big Shot]] DID TO YYOUR [Facial Procedures]??? YOU’LL BE LUCKY IF THE L;1ghTnERS EVER LOOK YOUR WAY AGAIN. OR EVEN BOTHER. TO HEAL YOU AGAIN. NO ONE. WANTS TO [gather round &] WATCH THEIR [channels] THROUGH BROKEN [[Scrap Heap]]!!!! EAHA… HAHA….!! HEAHEAHAHAHA!! TRY DOING YOUR [job] WHEN YOU CAN’T EVEN [[Look the part?]] ANY;mORE AFTER YOUR [[Life-altering transformation]]!!”

Spamton flailed his body as much as he could, only to promptly freeze in shock as the pressure around him became suddenly unbearably constricting and tighter still, to the point where he could hear a protesting wheeze in the joints of his shoulders. Sweat formed at his temple and Spamton’s heart beat madly as he continued to kick at his palm, the knuckle of Tenna’s thumb now pressing into the side of his face.

Wait! 

Wait, wait!

No, he might actually kill me!

“HRK–! HEAHAheaHAHAHA…! O-okAY [Cathode]...! IT… [[Thats gonna leave a mark!]]– IT. HURts…!    YOU’RE GOING TO… [[Crushed]] ME–! STOP!”

Spamton cracked open an eye, to find Tenna’s screen was still completely dark, only the traces of static buzzing in it showing he was still active. Except… at his temple, the static was disorderly and buggy, as if there was damage to the glass. His mouth was still noticeable in the static, his teeth pulled into a vicious angry snarl.

“Does it look like I care what happens to you?! You obviously don't care what happens to me! How dare you say that to me after what you’ve done?!”

His hand was quaking, as if he was resisting the urge to make good on Spamton's fears.

“But you know? You didn't get far enough! I’ll heal from this! I did l-last time! But you. You don't have anyone to help you, do you? Because when someone does, you’ll lie to their FACE and then try and BREAK them, right? It sounds like someone else I used to know.”

Spamton didn't respond, looking up at Tenna as he wheezed in one small breath at a time, his chest struggling to expand against the pressure of Tenna’s thumb.

“That's the thing, though. I don’t even know if you’re who you say you are! You told me once, and I refused to believe you. You-”

Tenna cut himself off, and seemed to wince underneath the static of his flickering and damaged screen. It shorted out briefly, his visible snarl struggling to stay pictured. “...You need to stop telling me things only he'd know! You need to stop trying to imitate him in saying things only he'd say! It's like you're trying to change what he's like in my head! Because I know Spamton, and he would never do what you just did to me! He would never hurt me. But I want to hear YOU admit it! Tell me you're not him again. Just once. Tell me you're not him! If you do that, I’ll let you go.”

I’m not him.

I’ll never be like him again. And you'll hate that. You'll hate me.

Spamton had escaped far worse situations caused by those swatchlings. It always had something to do with those bigger than him thinking he was so easy to break just because he was smaller. No, he could resist this. He was more durable than that. The cathode wouldn't get to kill him. But if he did…

...No one would look for him, no one would miss him. Kris may inquire about him, but they had other defensive inventory items, maybe not with his level of magic, but enough to complete their journey. Otherwise, this is where his existence started and stopped in this world– in the grasp of another being much bigger than him. Always bigger than him.

...

No. He'd had enough. He wasn't going to let Tenna think he had any control in this fight. Spamton was tired of someone else calling the shots for him and telling him what to say.

Twisting his head in a sudden jerk, he clamped his teeth on the portion of the finger that pinned his shoulder and bit down with all his strength, sinking his teeth deep into Tenna’s hand as far as they would go. 

“Shit!” That was enough apparently for Tenna to curse with a loud hiss and release him, but just as soon as Spamton was able to heavily gasp and breathe in a mouthful of air, he hadn't prepared himself to defend from what came next.

He was thrown, fiercely, at the ground and his back hit the floor, knocking all the wind out of him at once. The puppet wheezed, the shock of the collision doing enough to leave him breathless and motionless for a second or two before it dawned on him that he should be moving. 

“You little rat! Did you just BITE ME?!” Tenna shouted, in shock and disgust, and shook his hand out in front of him.

“YOU WOULDN’T [Let this offer go unnoticed]!! I HAD TO!!” 

It's like his body responded before his mind, as he kicked away from Tenna enough, sliding on his backside and his elbows to put some solid distance between them. His limbs felt sore from the absence of the intense pressure he'd undergone moments earlier, but other than that, he was okay.

…But that's when he saw it.

The giant darkner’s screen flickered back to life out of the black, fizzing and sparking and spasming, as if it took an determined effort to form the picture of his face and nose, just showing how pissed Tenna was in the moment, but most importantly…

How there was a noticeable crack in his screen at his temple. On a small section of that side of his face, it contorted and glitched in a barrage of RGB bars and static, making it look like his upper lip was twitching in fury and… confusion. Especially after the bite, where Tenna examined his hand, turning it over to see the extent of the damage.

It reminded Spamton of being present as the dealmaker, finally seeing the outcome of the prophecy come to fruition. The knight’s blade cleanly slicing through Tenna’s raised arms, the pitched alarming hum of lost signal, and then he hit the ground, his screen cracking upon collision, diagonally damaging the glass of his face. He only broke his deal with the knight to help the lightners…

Just as Spamton was doing in his own route to redemption. 

Witnessing the minimal damage alone after all that effort, all that stress and planning had Spamton’s eyes widen in horror. Of just what he tried to accomplish. That was done by him. No prophecy, no knight, no grander purpose, but just… a forever unloved obsolete puppet down on his luck and jealous of the chances given to another.

What… what did I just try to do?

He waited years for this.

I could have… I could have ruined everything…! For him… 

Wasn't that… the plan?

That was the plan, right? To finish the job?

What if I don't want to?

He just wants what they all do. To have our existence mean something. 

And I almost took that away.

…I used to want to save him at one point.

I wanted to know he cares about me. And he does! He just doesn't recognize me. But he still cares.

So why AM I doing this?

…

That's not important right now! Get him to shrink back down!

As soon as Spamton attained a good amount of space, he was able to scamper to his feet and continued taking staggering steps back through the doorway of the bedroom, out into the living space. The door was right there, he could run out, he could escape-

And go where? Kris won't want you back hearing what you tried. 

Do I WANT to kill him?! 

What would that make me to the lightners? Just a villain they chose to save for no reason? Someone who took their friend away? 

Would I even do that before? When I was me?

I didn't mean to hurt him like that, I just wanted to…

Hurt him. Like that.

Spamton gripped the sides of his face, feeling it glitch madly, racking his head around. He gave the side of his head a few solid ‘thunks’ with the ball of his wrist to keep him in the moment, but then–

Tenna ducked through the doorway of the bedroom, still massive, as his antennas had brushed the ceiling of the room upon entering, but still decently shrunken down since he had grabbed him. Part of Spamton expected him to rocket up in height once more to finish the job, but he didn't, instead choosing to approach him, still holding the figurine in one hand.

“Fine! If you're going to continually give me wrong answers, then at least tell me why you were going to break me.” He scowled and looked at the mini statue. "And why you would use my merchandise."

Spamton didn't answer immediately, his jaw fumbled and a glitch distorted his features. 

“OKAY, [Tennis Court]. LET ME [[xplain]].” 

“Well then explain! I’m listening!” 

Spamton backed up father away into the living room, hands falling to his sides. He… didn't have anything to say. This whole thing was a mistake, he'd made another mistake coming here. He needed to get out, needed to run away while he still could. Let Tenna forget about him completely. He’d forget about him eventually, everyone always did.

What was he thinking?! What did he try to do?!

“You… don't have anything to say, do you? Or you don't have anything you can say, can you?! Did Spamton not have any commercials about beating someone to death with a statue that you could mindlessly puppet?!”

Spamton's eyes were wide with horror, with shock, as he continued to back up, and nearly jumped when the back of his feet came in contact with a wall behind him.

“...After I was nice to you?” Tenna was visibly shaking, and Spamton looked up from the floor towards him, flinching when his gaze met his screen. “I thought you left. But no, no, that wasn't your plan, right?! Your plan was to leave long enough so that you could do THIS!” Tenna yelled, chucking the mini statue away from him and into the wall, where it made a large crack in the surface before bouncing unceremoniously to the floor. Bits of drywall and paint crackled to the floor after the collision.

“I don't even know why I want you to tell me, because you won't. I’ll answer for you. Y-you… tried. You wanted to kill me.” Tenna said, as if convicting him. 

“YOU WERE TRYING TO [[Killer Suits 10% With coupon]] ME TOO!! DON’T THINK YOU’RE [out of the water]!”

“Because you were going to take everything from me! After I trusted you enough to open up to you! I was starting to think we could have been friends! And then you run this big elaborate scheme to try and get close enough to get me killed and I… What did I do to you to deserve this?!”

“[[Cathode]], [please]-”

“Fucking answer me!”

Another silence between the two of them, filled only with ragged breaths from the much larger darkner, Spamton looked down again, as he focused every bit of himself into his words, hoping, praying they came out comprehensively. 

…

Do you know how painful it is to know that you're going to die and the last time I get to talk to you, you don't even know who I am?

Do you know how much it hurts to know that if you did, you'd hate me so much more than what you thought?

Do you know what agony I'm in that you know what I went through? That I couldn't prove myself to you, even after that part of me is gone?

Do you realize how terrifying it is to see a face that's not yours anymore staring back at you and not be able to do anything about it?!

…

…

...

He couldn't do it. 

Nothing he could say would make sense.

Please I've done it before, I was able to speak to the lightners! I'm capable of it! Just let me talk to him.

“Get out.”

Spamton's face fell, his strained smile breaking.

“Get OUT!” Tenna stomped towards him. “I never want to see you again! I don't… I don't get you! I don't get what your problem is! I can't make you say these things I know are true, and you won't admit them, so what's the point even trying?! I don't get why I even helped you in the first place! You were just going to scam me, break me, then leave! That was your plan! So let me make your next one-”

He'd wished this was like when Swatch caught him trespassing in the mansion, where he'd snap back with something snarky and insult the bird, caring about fuck all, since he was already caught anyway and would be escorted out regardless.  

“You're going to get out of here. You're going to leave me alone. You're going to crawl back into whatever garbage can you came out of. You're never going to take away what I have. And you're never going to come back!”

But this was Tenna, this was different. He should be even more infuriated with him, flying off the handle, screaming nonsense until his voice clipped into itself and broke again.

He remembered the sound of the mini statue embellishing the wall next to him with violence. Spamton wished it hit him instead, like things normally did when thrown at him.

…

I’m sorry.

“Why are you still standing there?! I said get out! Were you not scared enough before?! Get OUT or I’ll MAKE Y–” 

The audible crunching of glossy paper cut Tenna off, both of them tensing at the sound. The air grew a painful stillness as Spamton’s breath seized to nothing in his lungs when he looked down to see that Tenna’s shoe was pinning a familiar, torn, haphazardly folded piece of paper to the floor. The puppet frantically patted his interior jacket pocket and rummaged around inside it, only to find one folded piece.

…

No.

…Fuck!

It must have… fallen out at some point! While I was running away?! 

It doesn't matter!

He can't…! He can't see it! 

It's like time froze as he saw the puzzled darkner lift his shoe away, crouch down, way down, and slip his fingers gently around the discarded torn poster, unfolding it with his fingers. Immediately when he looked at it, his screen brightened and twisted in what could only register as a mortifying grief, completely distraught and appalled at what he saw.

That was enough to get the puppet to act. Now.

“N-nO!!!! [[No refunds]]!! DON’T [[Look into the light]] AT THAT!!!” Spamton launched himself off the wall, sprinting at Tenna and reaching just high enough to attempt to snag the torn poster. As if Tenna predicted what he'd do, the CRT straightened back up to standing in an instant, now cementing the poster completely unreachable for the smaller darkner. 

He had even taken a step away from him, which Spamton hadn't predicted, and it sent the little salesman hurtling forward onto his hands and knees in front of Tenna.

The fall had been a shock to his system, a rarity for him with as many times as he's fallen prior to this, especially only moments ago, but as the ache and tingle began in his palms after their harsh contact with the linoleum, he awaited Tenna’s reaction. 

Which… hadn't come. All he heard was his subtle, shaky breathing, as if he was thinking of what to do next to him. Spamton expected he'd be chucked out of here, and just waited to be grabbed in the CRT’s hand again and vaulted out of the room.

…

What was he doing?!

He didn't just give up.

Say you're not him. Just once. Say you're not him just once and you'll be let go.

Say you're not him.

You’ve done it before. 

Do it again.

Spamton pounded the side of his fist onto the floor in frustration.

Hard.

…

…

…

Another, 

He raised his fist over his head and slammed it down onto the linoleum again, making the joints in his wrist freeze with pain all the way to his elbow, which temporarily locked. It was a rush he deserved, or did he even deserve that? Maybe there were worse things he deserved than physical pain, but it was all he could accomplish at the moment.

Another, 

harder this time, until he was sure he was going to snap his hand clean off the ball joint with the force.

Another, 

His wrist creaked on contact with the floor.

And another.

And he screamed.

And continued.

One after the other, the next more vicious and relentless than the last,

Spamton was so tired, so frustrated, so SICK of things always working out this way.

Both fists now, and he reared back enough to slam both of them down, the agony rocketing through his wrists all the way up his arms to his shoulders.

“DON’T [Dont look now! Great Deals are on the horizon]!!!11!1! I DON’T WANT YOU TO [see..? I- I can't see!] THAT!! TTE[Ten dollars off]!!” 

His voice ruptured, and he could feel it crackle and pop with the unneeded force he put on it as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Both fists again, and he felt the jolt all the way to his upper back.

“TE- [Tons of Action and Fun]!! PL3A;$E!!1!1!” It was bitcrushed and mangled, and for some reason, like reopening a wound with fresh, thin scar tissue, he decided to slice his voice metaphorically deeper by increasing his volume each time he had a few milliseconds of recovery. “GIVE IT BA4;>cCK!!1! IT WAS AN [[In an accident? Call–]]- ACCid3NTT!! I NEVER WANTED [This is happening]! I DIDN’T WANT TO [[Tearing us apart]]!! TENNA !!”

He couldn't punch the floor anymore with one fist, as it had locked into a lopsided position and was unusable, numb from the damage he'd caused it. This enraged him even more and he hunched over, his forehead nearly pressed against the floor.

He was going to break himself, 

he already had. 

He'd been broken for a very, very, very long time at this point, 

and if he didn't remember, he would remind himself here that he was.

How many rock bottoms did he have to crash through to get to an actual stable ground with a definite end to it all?

Or was there one bottomless pit in a sea of rock bottoms, and he'd just fallen down the one with infinite false floors?

“DON’T!! DON’T LOOK AT IT!!! DON’T LOOK AT IT… DON’T [[Looking 4 Some0ne Specil Tnight]]!!!!” 

Weakly, one final punch against the floor, until his good hand couldn't do it any longer, laying slack on the floor.

Enough.

“...DON’T LOOK AT It… please don't… DON’T LOOK [@me]. Please. Don't… look at me. It was an accident, I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to. I didn't… mean…”

And now he was running out of steam. No, he couldn't. He couldn't just give up. He couldn't just run out of steam. Not like this.

Tenna knew he failed, was a failure, and would forever be nothing more. He'd crashed, plummeted, lost it all. Tried to save it, failed spectacularly, and got nothing for it except the constant reminder of what his purpose was and what would forever be every time he saw himself, past or future. On the TV or in the scattered fragments of a mirror.

“It's not fair… It's not fair…” Spamton droned, his voice box hoarse and full of static. Any more and he'd end up choking on it. “This is all wrong… Y-you don't even know who I am anymore. You don't even… You don't even recognize me. I want to prove who I am to you… I want to be me again. I want to be…”

Spamton slipped his injured, locked hand inside his jacket, angled it enough so that the other half of the poster got wedged between his fingers, and removed it. With his other hand pressed on the floor, and all his might and determination, he clumsily unfolded it as best he could, to see he'd gotten the half with the past image of Tenna on it.

That meant that Tenna was holding the other half with his red-suited self and his signature. As if he'd needed another direct comparison. Surely the image of how he used to be was fresh in the CRT’s mind already, but why not just reopen the wound a little more? Give him another reason to deny it.

One more floor down. Falling through layers upon layers of scar tissue.

Just making sure it NEVER heals, right, Mike?

Sullen and defeated, Spamton pressed his wrist down on his possessed poster half, feeling another bite of the fresh self-caused injury, and slid it as far as he could in Tenna’s direction.

I’m sorry. I'm so sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for wanting to kill you. I can't help who I am. Nothing can save me from that.

He heard Tenna approach him. Slowly. As if approaching a rabid animal. 

He couldn't look at him. Not because he didn't want to crane his head back to try to look into his screen at the height Tenna was at now, but because he was a coward.

“I don't… blame you. For not knowing.” Spamton continued. “I…! Eaheahea…! I don't either. I don't even know who I am a;<nYYMORE E1THER!!1! IT’S…”

It's all wrong now. It's all wrong. It's not like I can compare to who I was. It's not like I can go back. I haven't been me for my entire life. Always something wrong. Always something wrong.

There wasn't any response from the television darkner, and Spamton, to his frustration, could feel tears in his eyes and his voice start to tremble with the first emergence of static.

He was abruptly stopped by a large hand on his shoulder and flinched, sitting up more on his knees and grabbing his locked arm with his uninjured hand. From his perspective he could see now that Tenna had knelt in front of him, and what Spamton could tell from the screen’s brightness in front of him, was looking down at him. He even heard the sparking of the damaged screen in his proximity.

…

“...Spamton?”

The utter unwavering focus, but also the undeniable horror in his voice showed he was absolutely serious this time.

Spamton froze hearing the clarity in Tenna’s voice, and didn't say a word with how he must have realized he wouldn't be denying anything anymore. The puppet couldn't look up, wouldn't look up. He knew the CRT too well and knew exactly what expression followed that tone of his.

All Spamton could do was shut his eyes tight, and hold himself tighter. All the while, he felt a strand of hair being brushed away from his face.

And just like that, he'd failed.

Again.

Chapter Text

Out of everything Tenna had expected, waking to the scene in front of him was definitely not on that list. 

It was when he'd felt a light pressure on his chest, like something was resting on him, and for a moment, bleary thoughts catching up with him, could picture his little mailman, tuckered out from a long day on set, combined with his tasks in the city. There was a memory where he was sitting on his chest, smiling gently down at him, his hands caressing his screen and holding the sides of it in an unmoving grip.

'They did a great job with you. Good work today. I could look at you for hours if I wanted.’

‘By all accounts, you have been. That was one of the longest shoots we’ve done in a while.’

‘Oh you're here too, Tens. I almost forgot!’

‘Wha- Hey! Were you just using my screen to look at your reflection?’

‘Hahahaha! What? No, where would you get that idea? Gee, who do I look like to you? A fitness trainer on the wellness channel? I'm not that narcissistic. What if I'm checking for signs of burn-in?’

‘Mhmm. Let's go with that excuse, Big Shot.’ He hummed and chuckled. 

‘Well I’ve got good news. No signs whatsoever, and hey, is that a new cleaning solution? I don't see any streaks or clouding on you whatsoever.’

‘Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. Here I was wondering why you always want to rewatch so much of our footage before it's aired.’

‘Hey, I make mistakes. Someone should be catching those.’

‘You never make mistakes. And still you have me wondering how you do it.’ Tenna sighed blissfully. ‘And how I got so lucky.’

‘You got lucky?’ Spamton smirked down at the CRT and leaned in. ‘Think again, I'm the one who–’

A phone rang in the other room, and Spamton’s smirk had dropped as his hands trailed away from Tenna’s face. His expression grew grave and serious, less playful, as if the ear-piercing ring was a conditional warrant for his undying attention.

‘...Spammy? C’mon. Let it ring this time. Just stay here.’

‘I can't. I have to get this. Just give me thirty minutes.’

'That's what you said last time. And I didn't see you until the next day.’

‘I won't be long, okay?’ Spamton had jerked slightly to the side, as if something had tugged on his arm and he huffed, brushing down his arm, irritated. 'I'll be there in a second, hold on.’ He mumbled, and Tenna assumed the odd reaction was due to the phone continuing to ring its harsh, interrupting demand.

He’d gotten off of the larger darkner in a rush, fixing his suit coat, and Tenna sat up just as quick, sliding his legs over the side of the bed they laid on in Spamton’s cyber city room.

‘Why do you always have to answer every single call? He wouldn't know if you just said you were busy, for just a little bit–!”

‘Dammit, Tenna! Just let me do my job!’ Spamton practically snapped in his direction, a venom in his voice. ‘Okay? I promise, I’ll be back. Fuck.’

Quickly the addison made his way to the other room as if he'd left someone else waiting far too long for the pleasure of his company.

Just stay here… with me. 

Don't leave me. Please don't leave.

Please don't–

… 

Don't leave.

…

…Did he leave? He left, didn't he?

…

But if you're gone, why… does it still feel like someone’s still there?

Tenna’s brow crinkled, now confused at the odd sensation. Surely the small salesman climbed off and left to speak with his benefactor, so why did he still feel a weight on his chest, as if there was someone still in the room with him? 

His screen reactivated, white light beaming through the dark of the room, allowing Tenna a picture of what was really going on.

And pure terror rendered his body immobile.

The puppet was perched on his chest, breathing sparse and restrained, but hissed through his clenched teeth, as his glasses were drenched in that television static, like he had lost signal from his consciousness to the actions of his body. His smile was pulled wide, stretching his face in an oddly tragic way. He seemed to be dissociated or short-circuited, much like a stalling program would be. However, Tenna’s wires ran cold when seeing what he held just above his head and his mouth silently gaped open. 

One of Tenna’s own figurines, glinting gold in the screen’s light, was in perfect alignment with the center of the glass if the puppet were to swing his arms down. 

Suddenly the danger of this particular individual was clearly evident, as his instability was now something to be scared of with what he could coordinate, manipulate, and do to him. Bringing the puppet back into the moment didn't help his cause much either, as Tenna blocked his attempt to send the figurine careening into the middle of his face. 

The CRT was on high alert, system heating, pulse thundering, his thoughts racing. If he hadn't woken up, this darkner would have robbed his entire second chance at life, which he'd just gotten back.

He scammed, then lied, then left, now he wanted to kill him. This was the reality of things.

Hell, Tenna didn't even know he'd come back with how the day had gone for the two of them, but he must have returned for his planted glasses. As clueless as Tenna was at the moment, figuring out the specifics seemed to be on the lowest tier of the priority list with the situation he was faced with. 

Still… thoughts rumbled in. Similarities scathing.

A puppet, down on his luck, who claimed to be Spamton. Spamton, an obsolete salesman that lost everything, missing or presumed dead to everyone around him. The parallels were all there, and Tenna was faced with too many coincidences to not at least make the connection, but then that would insinuate that… Spamton wanted him dead at this minute and had staged an entire, elaborate scheme to accomplish that goal. 

That line of thinking meant it would have been Spamton that orchestrated days of misleading him and relying on the physical differences in order to catch him off guard to shatter him and rip away his future. It would imply that Spamton had somehow lost his mind in the madness of his numbers dropping, and that just…

…

It just didn't match his little mailman. Tenna didn't think he would ever succumb to this level of insanity, even if his temperament had been unpredictable at times in the most stressful of shoots. He was adaptive and quick on his feet, determined to gun for the next amicable solution if his reputation was at risk- whatever that tended to be. 

It wasn't just about appearances, even if that factor played a major part in it, but instead about how Spamton was. But something had to happen to make him not want to call for help…

Something happened to him.

Something bad.

And it got more and more clear what it was. But saying they were the same darkner would mean that not only was Tenna not there for him when his sales, the one thing that definitively mattered to him, plummeted to zero, it would also imply that Tenna wasn't there for him when he was forcibly removed from a place he called home…

Then… worst of all,

It would mean Tenna wasn't there for something gruesomely transformative happening to him. It would mean that Tenna had let him run away and face something truly incomprehensible just so that… he could see who he was talking to. Which had been nothing. The thought by itself was enough to make him feel nauseous with disbelief. It was enough to make him want to shut the world out with some more sleep, to really think about it if the headache was the main factor that led him to jump to these conclusions. 

No, it was impossible. They weren’t the same. 

It couldn't have all been for nothing. Tenna wouldn't know… what to do if it had all been for nothing.

It wasn't him. All he had to do was confirm his suspicions.

Tenna was furious, he was distraught, and he was confused. So many thoughts in so little time and the puppet had to throw another wrench in the mix. So when he felt the sharp, white-hot pain of a deep crater being made in his screen, Tenna had exploded with rage. 

The smaller one’s intentions were crystal clear now, and if Tenna didn't want to lose the favor and the second chance bestowed upon him by the lightners, over the manic actions of a silly puppet of all things, he'd deal with him as necessary. However, it was like the salesman expected this of him, and fought like hell to be out of his grasp. For such a small darkner, he really was resilient, scrappy and did not give up easily. So when Tenna was bitten, he was bitten hard. Even at his current size, the pressure and raw force of the smaller one’s jaw was enough to send a wave of shock through Tenna’s entire hand.

All he had to do was admit it once! Just once! I would have let him go!

It's like he was fighting for his life upon being restrained, even if all that was going through Tenna’s mind was just to scare him enough to get him to come clean about what exactly he was doing. He’d talked to the puppet about his insecurities about becoming scrap, and now he was trying to send Tenna there anyway?

It made… no sense.

Prior to being woken, as his mind juggled the multitude of connections, the puppet leaving was a confusing blow that riled up way too many negative emotions on top of everything else, but now, Tenna wanted him gone. He wanted him out . The puppet wasn't cooperating, and the fact he continued to clarify nothing was eating at the CRT more than anything. He never wanted to see that hideous, freakish smile ever again-

So when his foot crunched against an unexpected object, Tenna was about to disregard it before seeing the smaller darkner freeze in horror. His livid and outraged thoughts came to a screeching halt as he tried to make sense of the fact the puppet started furiously rummaging through the interior pocket of his jacket, then looked powerlessly down at the object pinned by Tenna’s shoe then back up into his screen.

What's got him so worked up now?

What do you have?!

It's about time to see what that little bastard has been up to.

It was a glossy piece of paper, or to a regular sized darkner, what would have looked like a poster, and cocking an eyebrow, Tenna maneuvered his fingers around the flap of the paper, unfolding it in one hand–

And his heart sunk. Time slowed to barely a crawl, taking on a new inherent wrongness that rocked him to his core. 

It's almost as if there was an expectation for what he held in his hand to morph into something- anything different. Maybe it could have been a plea to some higher being in different circumstances.

It was a… poster of him and Spamton's first collaboration. Half of it anyway. For the first couple seconds of staring at it, he'd thought it was a replica, but that… signature proved otherwise.

               ‘We did it! Cheers to another year of working with you! 

                                 -Your shining star. 1997.’

This was real. This was one of the last things he owned of the salesman, all their years together, the one that started it all, the one that he'd stored in his old dressing room, never to be resurfaced. They'd hung this momento up together with glimmers of hope and triumph in their eyes, victory unmatched as their future together looked iridescent. 

This was the one Tenna looked at last before he smashed his fist against Spamton’s old mirror until the pain of the glass wedged in his knuckles mixed groggily with the emotional numbness that had built enough to effectively smudge any physical ailment near instantaneously. That, and the copious amounts of alcohol he had in his system helped as well.

And now it was here, in pieces, and there was a trespasser and a scavenger that unearthed it and destroyed it, no doubt trying to hide the evidence until it eventually came to light, as if some greater force of fate was wanting the puppet to suffer the consequences of his maliciousness.

It made Tenna want to curl into himself then and there, forget this all was happening, forget he had found himself in this situation, let his mailman, his shining star, reassure him that everything was going to be fine… everything was going to work itself out…

and the one, the unidentifiable one, who forever tarnished their memory together, was the one who had just tried to kill him in his sleep and take away everything he'd worked for–

“N-nO!!!! [[No refunds]]!! DON’T [[Look into the light]] AT THAT!!!” 

Tenna’s attention snapped back to the puppet, and was quick to react as the little creature charged in his direction while he was kneeled down. The scream took Tenna by surprise, the unhinged nature of it, how it seemed to reverberate off the walls. After a hasty retreat, the puppet fell forward and Tenna was in no rush to help him this time. 

The CRT was taken off guard by the animalistic nature in his actions, how desperate he sounded with that scream, like Tenna seeing that poster hinged on everything he held dear to him. The puppet acted like his world would collapse into itself if his actions were ever brought to the light.

Why? Why do you want to keep me from seeing this so bad? What does me having this mean to you? Or do you just want to cover up what you've done?

Questions he never got to ask before the puppet started slamming his fist against the floor. 

The first time he did it seemed to be out of frustration with his failing to conceal the poster… like how any criminal would feel if he had been caught. But then he did it again. And again. And again–

The force was brutal and abrupt, Tenna even wincing as he heard a loud ‘CRACK’ of one of his puppet-like joints sound out  in resistance to his self mutilation.

Then he'd screamed.

A garbled static cry erupted out of vocal cords so torn and shredded from corruption, that Tenna hadn't thought it was possible for a sound like that to escape out of a living, animate thing. 

His head glitched in a haze, contorting and shifting as he carried on with the episode. As soon as it had started, Tenna wanted it to end. This little darkner may have decided to kill him that night, but the torment he was going through made the atmosphere already feel like someone had already died, and something had ripped open the grieving process where it had been left off at– like unpausing a show to remember a beloved character had been killed off. 

Tenna could feel his antennas droop in fear of what he saw before him, and his size significantly decreased with the shock of it all. 

The puppet continued to scream in that horrible, discordant tone that had the same appeal as the sound of blended glass, and it made Tenna feel as exposed to danger as if he'd been left on in an electrical fire. He needed to mute this creature, but had no idea how without approaching him. 

A ‘SNAP’ was heard in the room before one of the puppet’s wrists stopped moving altogether. The need to at least go in and stop him was pulling at him, and so Tenna, with trembling breath, took a couple hasty, adamant steps forward–

“...DON’T LOOK AT It… please don't… DON’T LOOK [@me]. Please. Don't… look at me. It was an accident, I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to. I didn't… mean…”

And stopped.

Through the static, like detuning a radio with a poor signal, and readjusting a dial, he'd heard it.

He knew that voice all too well.

Tenna's lip quivered as everything was called into question, how the atmosphere felt too small for him, how the air was just a little too thin to breathe, how it was just them two alone in the world. He could barely process what was being said, just the who that was saying it.

He hadn't even realized he'd dropped the poster he held, as it softly floated to the floor.

It was undeniable, it was certain in the most horrific way, it wasn't stolen, or an advertisement, or a cheap imitation. The realization had dropped like a dead weight, and it dredged up everything he'd come to deny and push below eye level.

“This is all wrong… Y-you don't even know who I am anymore. You don't even… You don't even recognize me. I just want to prove who I am to you…”

Recognize… you? Of course I recognize you.

At least he wanted to say that. To murmur affirmations to him endlessly as the picture became clearer of what exactly this was.

The droning of static in his voice was still ever-present, but it was minimal and muffled, giving the overlapped feedback some leeway to what was buried beneath it, towards the only confirmation that mattered to Tenna right now. It's like the shock wouldn't let him move, as if any flub in his stage presence would eradicate this confirmation from existence.

“I want to be me again. I want to be…”

With his wrist pressed on the remaining half of the poster he'd fished out of his jacket, a light crackling sound from the paper combined with a plastic-y creak from the obviously injured wrist, Tenna observed his half of the poster below.

As if the poster mattered anymore.

‘Your shining star, 1997.’

Oh god, not like this. Please don't say it's true. 

Please don't say you're who you say you are. Or who you've claimed to be before. Please. 

Here's one last chance to deny it. Please, please, please.

Just say you're not him! Just say it once and I’ll let you go!

He wouldn't do this…! He wouldn't…

Tenna hesitantly stumbled forward, advancing towards him as he continued to talk, and ignored how the light from his ever brightening screen shone off that little plastic body, making his exposed segmented hands look like they were translucent with a soft glow in the dark. 

“I don't… blame you. For not knowing. I…! Eaheahea…! I don't even know who I am a;<nYYMORE E1THER!!1! IT’S…”

Tenna’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach hearing the puppet’s grating voice mask over what used to be a calmer, more charming sound that put him on television, as if it was attempting to keep up the ruse. As if it was saying to him ‘that didn't happen’ and masking over him like nothing had changed even for a split second. Yet Tenna wouldn't be blindsided again, the mask was off.

Kneeling down in front of the smaller darkner, ignoring the way his heart lurched in anguish seeing him hold his arm close to him, Tenna reached out, securing a firm hold on his shoulder. 

A flinch. Two bated breaths. An unrecognizable face he'd recognize any day. A recognizable face he'd never recognize again. 

…

I can't believe I didn't let myself believe it until now.

…

“Spamton…?” 

... Spamton… cringed hearing the name and held himself tighter, really digging his fingers into the sleeve around his arm. He also started to tremble, and Tenna could feel beads of sweat on his forehead as he brushed an overhanging strand of hair, that escaped the pompadour in the struggle, away from his face. Just to confirm that it was the puppet that had spoken with his little mailman’s voice. Just to confirm that the one in front of him was the same little demented darkner he'd gotten to know over the last few days but also the one who he'd known for years.

There was a silence, immediate and heavy and looming, with the only sound in the room being how part of Tenna’s screen sparked and spasmed with static due to the crack at his temple.

No.

No, that's not right, he’s not…!

…

‘YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME? FINE.’

‘I just want to prove who I am to you…’

“...Oh no… Oh no.” Tenna’s voice was barely a whisper at first, but then it hardened into something more panicked. “No, no, no, no, no…! No, no…” Tenna mumbled over his words as they accelerated with urgency and desperation for something to be different. 

You're lying. You're lying!

You're…

…

Remembering the way his eyes looked when he slept, remembering how mad he looked when Tenna insulted Spamton last night. The way his worst fears of just minutes ago were making sense.

‘Who knows how far he would have gotten? Probably not that far at all. Nothing more, nothing less! Not being able to get one measly foot off the ground.’

It was the way his small body felt securely swaddled in Tenna's arms only last night and how the puppet melted into it. How it was so easy to mistake him for... himself.

…

Everything

makes sense.

…

Oh my god. It really is him!

“It really is you. Wh-” Tenna’s shaky breath cut off his words, as if his lungs were trying to put a stop to him coming to the reality of the conclusion, to save the both of them the grief that would follow. 

He wanted to shake him until he got a different answer.

He didn't like this one. It meant… way too many things that he didn't want it to mean!

Where did you go?! Why did you leave me?

“Wh-where have you been all this time?” 

“OH [u] KNOW. [[Around Town]]. EAHAHA...” His laughter trailed off under the spotlight of the large screen. “MAKING [bad calls] IN [[judgement day]]. LIVING IT [Big]. GOT A NEW [all purpose flour]- N;n3w. PURPOSE. a>  AS A [[Deals on selected lenses]]... SO I'M DOING GREAT.”

“...You told me. You told me and I didn't listen to you.”

“ABOUT THE [[lens dealers]]?? I DIDN’T SAY-”

“No! Of course this isn't about your glasses!" Tenna’s voice cracked in disbelief and he half regretted his volume. His grip tightened significantly on the smaller one's shoulders and resisted the overpowering urge to pull him in close and never let him leave again. “You told me you were who you said you were and I didn't listen. Shit, why didn't I listen!?” 

He felt his voice then start to become more unstable, and it became incredibly difficult to control his words. 

“E-everything makes sense. The advertisements, the way you got so mad on his behalf, why you wouldn't answer anything, his– YOUR sales dropping–?!” His face fell as he let go of the puppet’s shoulders and gripped his antennas in both hands. “D-did you really live in the garbage?! Did the lightners find you in the garbage?! Was that real?!”

And then I told him to go back to that?! What is wrong with me?! 

Back in the studio, come to think of it, he almost looked relieved to see me. Oh my god, I called him a rat. I called him a THING. 

His size started to rapidly fall, but before he could get small enough, Spamton got to his feet and reached out, grabbing the sides of Tenna’s head in his hands. Tenna felt him only truly clench one side though, cementing the fact the other hand was damaged.

The brute force of him slamming his wrist on the ground echoed in Tenna’s mind. He had built up this image of his mailman so much that he was blind to what he saw right in front of him, and he was already doubled down, so the poster had probably made Spamton feel... 

Tenna couldn't imagine.

The level of frustration. Or the panic in regards to–

Our poster. He tore it in half.

Forget about the poster! It doesn't matter! The poster doesn't matter. Disregard the poster. Focus on what you can! I don't care about the stupid poster as long as he's here! As long as he's here with me!

“HE 3e  YHEY. DON’T GO [[shrinky-dinking]] ON ME. YOU KNOW THAT DOESN’T [Solve the puzzle] ANYTHING.”

“I sprayed you with foam! I’ve called you horrible things! Things I wouldn't have meant if I’d- I-if I’d known it was you! Oh my god, I almost crushed you! And you've been here, right in front of me, like THIS, the entire time?!”

Spamton didn't say anything in response. Maybe he could have gone with a better word, or delivery, based on the way the salesman shrunk away from him when he'd commented on his… physical state. But he couldn't help it. Now that he was…

This entire time!

This entire time…

Tenna hadn't diverted his attention away from Spamton for one instant, but the longer they stayed like that, the more he felt his nerves calm. Maybe it was the grounding presence of his hands on his face, or maybe it was the fact Spamton stayed painfully silent. It was a heartbreaking ease no matter what it was caused by, but one that somehow hurt far worse than the panic beforehand.

“...You're so… different now.”

Different.

Good choice of a word. You'll push him away even faster with that one.

“...AND YOU’RE THE [[Exact]] SAME. BUT WH0’s [[keeping tabs]]?”

Maybe inadvertently, maybe it was a breaking point, but that last comment got Spamton to remove his hands and shove them into his blazer pockets. He looked like if he could hide his face from the world too, he would. But life wasn't that kind to offer him the option.

This must have been the ‘something bad’ that happened to him. There's nothing else it could be. Don't ask about it.

“...What… happened to you? H-how did you get… like that?”

As soon as the question was out, Tenna desperately wished it had remained unsaid. as Spamton noticeably clenched his teeth and hunched into himself a little more. A glitch contorted his head after Tenna had asked, as if it was on some sort of malicious, reminding cue. He wanted to rush in with apologies, some ‘please disregard that!’ statements, but he didn't think he could with how choked up he felt just… observing the smaller darkner visually short out like that.

“...[[Failure to comply with contract demands may result in the following:]].”

Tenna’s face twisted in despair, and Spamton maintained his attempt at a straight, unbothered stance. It was failing though. He was obviously crumbling underneath this pressure.

Failed contract demands?

“...Can you… not talk about it?”

“Y-YOU [[genus tests]], YOU. [Click now to test IQ]. GUESS ALL THOSE [years] HOSTING THE STUPIDEST [[Quiz Time!]] KNOWN TO [[Man, Woman, or Child]] ACTUALLY GAVE YOU SOME [street smarts].”

“B-but your voice was so clear before. You sounded like y- or you sounded-”

He sounded like how he used to. Or as much as he used to as he could?

“I D0n’T knOw HOW I CAN [[Surpass]] THE [commercial breaks]. IT DOESN’T [happening now in your community] OFTEN. BUT. I REALLY.      TRIED.   THIS TIME. AND I. DID IT. BUT. THERE’S. LIMITS.”

Limits? Like what limits?

“So you can't tell me anything?”

“NOTHING I WANT TO [repeat].”

“Why didn't you call me? Or come get me? I would have-”

Spamton cleared his throat to cut him off, or there was an attempt, but it failed as another laugh escaped him. “EahahEAHEAHEA…! [Y] DIDN’T     [you called?]??   I [Request Denied] DO A [#&@%] THING.       bbESIDES, YOU WOULDN’T HAVE [Seen it to believe it]. THERE’S DAYS I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN- I DON’T EVEN–” 

A glitch rocketed through his head and he grabbed his bottom jaw, snapping it shut to cut off the repetition.

I didn't get any of that.

That was his sign to shut up and stop asking questions. It appeared like the more Spamton visibly pushed himself, seemingly straining with each word he forced into somewhat clarity, the buggier he became and the less he made sense. And it was noticeably hurting him to keep up the continuous attempts.

…

Tenna needed to help him, that's why he was here, he made everything better for his viewers, that was his purpose, and his once most cherished broadcasting star was right here in front of him. The CRT’s mind raced, much much more than it had been already.

He had to do something with this new information, he couldn't let it just… BE like this.

“We… we have to do something. Maybe we can fix it…”

“TENNA…”

“No, Spamton! We can fix it! Just give me some ideas on what I can do! We can get some help,” Tenna pushed off his knee to stand and gripped the sides of his head, his screen sparking and buzzing. His screen lit up more, his size shooting up with a renowned motivation that was encompassed in dread, and he thought he smelled smoke coming from the cracks in his display as well as his vents.

“It can't be just…! I know you told me it's permanent, but there's more darkners here and I mean, maybe there's someone who knows something! Look, let me do the talking, I’ll get it sorted out. All we need is a little help. We can fix it! I can start getting a hold of… m-maybe the lightners can help? Kris? Susie? It doesn't matter, I’ll get someone. We’ll fix you right up, I promise, I just have to… figure out what to do-”

He was rambling. Sooner or later he'd-

“I-it's late, but if I go into town, maybe Ralsei knows? O-or… Sw-  no, they wouldn't know, would they?! Sorry, no, that's a terrible idea, ignore that, but- No, we'll find some help. They kn-knew how to fix me, they might be able to fix you! I mean, there's got to be someone who knows something about email-!”

He'd pace. Tenna started pacing.

Spamton slowly gripped his jacket sleeves and backed away from him, sinking against the wall, not acknowledging Tenna as he leaned back and watched him. Tenna could only give frantic glances at him now as he tapped his palm with the back of his other hand, trying to think of something they both could do for him. Something he could do for him. 

No amount of television could distract from something of this caliber. He couldn't do what he did for Kris. He had to figure something else out. But when nothing came to mind, the colored distortion on his screen worsened, twitching and spazzing as he just got more overwrought with the powerlessness of the situation. Tenna always hated being the witness behind soundproof glass and the agitation grew.

He didn't know enough about cyber malware! He didn't even know what differentiated email from regular mail! Could he even do anything with the knowledge he had?

“Damn it , Spamton! Give me ideas! Or something to work with! I can't think of all of this by myself! Can you write something down at least? Maybe that would work?! How long have you been like this? A couple months? Years? Still! Maybe it's not too late to at least try to–”

Tenna’s pacing was interrupted by a stifled sob.

It's as if the television darkner felt it rather than heard it, as he redirected his attention sharply downward as if stung. Tenna paused to hear more, just in case he misheard it, even as he stopped his rant mid-way through, previously wildly gesturing hands still raised out in front of him and shoulders hunched to his neck.

Spamton, he kept having to remind himself that was who was here with him now, had slid down the wall to be sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest. In a quaking, maddened fist he held his hair, and just with the tension he did, it looked nothing short of painful at he clawed at his scalp. His teeth were clenched and his smile broken, but what gave his distress away further was the crease of his brow and the trembling of his shoulders. He sniffed, and Tenna saw tears roll down his painted cheeks from under his glasses.

…

This isn't what he needs to hear right now. I bet we'll figure something out, we were always able to. 

…

But what if we can't this time?

…

What if we can't fix this one?

…

Tenna’s tense expression morphed into something truly heartbroken. No, he wasn't hallucinating, nor was it a dream, but instead it felt like something else. It felt like he was scrolling between channels, flipping through his options, anxiously racking his mind to see what his lightner family would like, and getting lost in the static in-betweens, finding those moments the most bearable as his family fell apart.

At least in the in-betweens, nothing made sense and you couldn't make them make sense. At least in the in-betweens, there was nothing to comprehend or put together, no emotions to register or past traumas to stitch together, no performances to adhere to or story to follow. A liminal world of television, but only in the milliseconds between the entertainment of choice.

Seeing… Spamton… so unlike what was on the channels of what Tenna built in his head, in his dreams, was like being caught in one of these in-betweens, but actually having to register that he was in there and Spamton was with him too. In this situation, the in-betweens became a nightmare. This wasn't something he could just turn his dial off to, or flip to the next channel, because with every channel flip, Spamton would be right there in the static. Changed. Unnatural. But so very much present. Alive.

Alive and angry. Spiteful. Vengeful and driven to accomplish… something. Whether that truly was ending Tenna’s life or something else. Who knew how long he'd been here in the in-betweens after he'd been thrown out? Tenna’s heart ached in a pang of sympathy, and every breath hurt as he inhaled the memories.

He knew that feeling of being discarded all too well as he lay in the snow in his own lost signal, the chances of appearing again on a broadcast shot to zero. With his head overheating and whining in protest with his now damaged body, his aged components painted him the picture that it was the end for him and he'd have no other choice but to give up. He knew the trash was his next destination, even after the earlier words of reassurance from Susie, because he knew that not even she could fix what happened to him alone. But she found a way in the end.

Did Spamton have someone offer him a second chance?

Did Spamton have someone there for him?

Seeing that he'd come here alone and that it wasn't Neo that got hurt by swatchlings, but rather the little mailman himself, that seemed unlikely. Spamton was hated by those who knew he was alive, and not talked about or shunned by those who didn't. Essentially all alone in the world that was supposed to be his one, grand playing field as a Big Shot once upon a time. It threw him away and kept him there.

Please give me another answer.

I don't like this one.

Wordlessly, Tenna let out the tense breath he'd held when hearing the sob and walked over to the wall beside his former partner, sliding down to sit beside him. This made Spamton’s breath hitch as he scooted just a bit away from him, giving him a nasty glare, and scrubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with his other arm, the sobs starting to climb from him. They broke and contorted as his voice would, almost sounding like electronic hiccups at times. 

Spamton’s glitches started up again and had him near yanking on his hair as his head and body bugged out, malfunctioning to keep form, and he drew his knees in tighter. Tenna observed through visual distortions his jacket sleeve was already spotted with tears, even if the black blazer he wore did a better than impressive job at trying to conceal it.

“...Hey,” Tenna waited for a pause in the glitches, or at least to where Spamton’s hand was visible and intact enough to identify, even if pixels still clipped off of it. He gently removed the puppet’s hand from his head, trying to ignore the slight effort that came with prying his fingers away while being as gentle as possible, then proceeded to gently smooth the hair back with both hands. The puppet looked up at him from under his glasses, and that just made Tenna want to become small enough he could never be seen by those eyes again, only returning to happier ones.

He didn't want to be doing this. He wanted to hold Spamton so tight his tears and hurt and anguish would stop. He wanted to see him be okay. He wanted to wrap him in an embrace so inescapable he couldn't leave his sight now that he'd found him again.

“Sorry. You… uhm… you always hated when someone messed up your hair. I didn't want that someone to be, well, you.”

Spamton emitted another half-processed glitchy sob that sent another wave of scattered pixels across his face, then noisily sniffed.

“rR1g   H;T. WHAT WOULD THE [[Canned.laughter.sfx]]-” Spamton slammed his forehead on his knees to cut off the vocal bug. He closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. “WHAT. WOULD THE [Audience members] THINK?”

“No, it's just your name-brand hair gel is too expensive for both of us right now. And I can't exactly convince Mike to put it in the budget.”

That caused Spamton to pause, looking back up at him fully and Tenna tensed seeing more tears run down his face while Spamton scrubbed them away with his sleeve as if they were personally pestering him. Tenna attempted a weak, weak look of reassurance. It was wobbly, but at least it was out there?

“...I’M [[want to make your apology sound convincing?]]- I’Mm. S;0rRY. ABOUT THE [[Structural Damage]] TO YOUR FACE. I’LL    GET [The presses] ON [[+1 Exclusiv HealDeal Coupon]] PRODUCTION. I’LL-”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on, w-was that a coupon just now? Don't think I’m glossing over that...! Now knowing you can do that.” 

Spamton sniffed again, wiping a tear with the ball of his wrist as he in turn attempted a light snicker. “FINE. CONSIDER IT A [reimbursement] FOR M;mY [[Less than favorable]]    [crimes].”

Tenna nodded, at least appreciative that the salesman was picking up the slight humor he was putting out. 

There was a long pause between the two, a silence so chalked full of unanswered questions and conversations and years of missing stories to catch each other up on. Spamton’s tears seemed to ebb away with the passing silence as he took shaky breaths out his mouth, seemingly trying to gather something to say.

“...I MESSED UP.”

Tenna's expression softened. “...I did too. I should have noticed a lot sooner than I did.”

“I KNOW [Y]   [Wire] [White]- WHY. YOU DIDN’T. I WOULDN’T [[Half Off]] BELIEVED ME EITHER.”

“That and you played into it. Why? Why did you continue to lie? Why didn't you just…?! Not leave me alone until I got the message? O-or done anything else?”

Spamton didn't answer immediately and sniffed. “...CAN’T SAY [[Identity Theft]] IS A BAD OPTION TO [get the latest scoop] ON MY REPUTATION AND STATUS. [See what they're saying about You Online ➯]. MIGHT AS WELL [profit] WHERE I CAN.”

“That should have been my first clue. It's just,” Tenna frowned deeply, then put his hands on his knees, clenching the fabric of his pants, desperately trying to ignore how the picture quality of his face faded and flickered as he tried to maintain it. “God…. damn it, Spamton.”

“...CAN WE [start over]?” Spamton mumbled, looking down and wiping his eyes again as the last of his tears fell.

Start over?

…

Tenna thought back to when he'd caught the puppet awake just the other day, blissfully unaware of everything that had been revealed just in a short matter of time.

‘ My big quarrel with Spamton shouldn't be affecting you, so we can just start over.’

…

Damn it. I really, really want to start over. Back to when I could have helped. Back to when I could have done something different.

“...Mhm. I'd like that.”

“ME TOO.”

“I have so many questions for you.”

“...I DON’T DOUBT IT.” 

“There's just… so much I want to know.” Tenna turned his head to once again look down at the little salesman sitting beside him. 

“YOU GET [A One-Hit Wonder]-” Spamton sighed. “ONE. QUESTION. FOR NOW. AT LEAST.”

As if he'd caught him staring, or thought to look in his direction around the same time, Spamton glanced up at him. The need to look away was eating at Tenna, but he didn't. Instead they just shared probably the first long look they've had since their separation. 

Neither had said a word, just got lost staring at each other, and Tenna wondered if he shared the same fear that if one of them blinked, the other would disappear forever. In Tenna’s case, Spamton practically had already done that. But now, here he was again. Different, but here. With him.

“...Are you okay? With your wrist. It… well, it didn't look like that felt good at all.”

Didn't feel good? What am I saying?! He hasn't moved it since he stopped screaming.

That still happened. That happened. All of that happened.

Still, Spamton looked surprised that was what he chose to ask. “DON’T [[worrying too much]] ABOUT IT. I’VE HAD [worst possible outcome] BEFORE.”

“Can you move it?”

“I SAID YOU GET [[One]].”

“...Of course you'd say some shit like that." Tenna cracked the smallest of smiles.

“WHOA, LAY OFF THE [[Fine Dining Experience]] CURSES THERE, [Bustarino]. WHAT WOULD YOUR CENSORS THINK? EVEN IF YOUR [Parental Lock] HAS BEEN [[Disengaged]].”

“My censors aren't the problem here–”

“EAHEAHAHhaha…!” He hunched in on himself, his laughter forced and drawn out as he clutched his arm laying limply at his side. “I’M JUST [All stand up, no comedy]. LOOK, I’LL BE [pushing daisies] WHENEVER I WANT. I’M [A-Okay].” 

I hate how you say you've been through worse. What did they put you through while you've been gone?

“...[In related news], YOUR FACE IS GIVING ME NEW WAYS TO adV3RT1sE    [[Warranty coverage for your new TV]]. WE NEED TO [Update:Patch] THAT BEFORE I GET ANY MORE IDEAS. HERE, LET YOUR [ol pal]  TAKE A [Gander] AT THAT   [Fractured_Display:Warning! High Voltage Risk] OF YOURS.”

Tenna’s screen brightened, and he immediately felt the ramifications of that as his face bugged out again, flickering dangerously. The CRT didn't move, remembering the stretched, unhinged smile on the puppet’s face as he held the figurine from just moments ago, how the static clouded over any emotion that could be registered in those eyes, spelling nothing but pure insanity and drive to kill. His desperation as he was caught and clumsy, but adamant,  strikes to his face just to get any part of the interrupted job done.

Tenna watched him warily, and his brow crinkled in contemplation.

Why did you do it? Does it matter?

Spamton stood slowly, brushing his hair back with his uninjured hand and gazed at Tenna with a soft smile (or as soft as he could reasonably muster, nothing compared to his old soft smile). His earlier tears were just drying, and Tenna noticed how hard he made it look to keep his composure after all that previously. Still, he was at least trying.

“COME ON. BEFORE YOU [shorted on funds] YOURSELF OUT. NO ONE NEEDS TO GO TO THE [[Safely dispose through electronic recycling]] AFTER YOU JUST GOT OUTTA [dodge this!] FOR THE LAST ONE.” He extended a hand towards the CRT, flexing his fingers once to gesture for him to take it.

Tenna glanced down at his offered hand and then forward back at him. 

“I GET IT. IF YOU’RE [[Mad Bargains]] AT ME. YOU DON’T HAVE TO [Act Around the Clock] THAT YOU'RE NOT. IT'S NOT GOING TO [Stop, you're killing me!] ME FROM GIVING YOU WHat YOU [[asked4]]. I’M AN [HonestMan], I’D NEVER OFFER YOU A [LimitedTime Coupon] AND SNATCH IT AWAY WITH [disclosure agreements]. WHY JUST THE [[Having Second Thoughts?]] IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME FEEL LIKE [putting aluminum in a microwave].”

Does... he think I'm acting? I'm not mad anymore. I just want to know why.

“Okay, no I believe you. I trust you. So why don't you help me in the best way you can? I'll cash in that coupon.”

"NOW WE'RE [Talking]...!"

Tenna reached out and took the little darkner’s hand, and Spamton took that as an opportunity to pull him up. Due to the puppet’s stature, the whole thing probably looked silly from an outsider’s perspective, with Spamton backing up as he pulled the other hunched-over darkner to his feet, but Tenna observed he was relatively strong for such a small creature.

He also appreciated it more than he could say, with how his screen sparked and hummed in a discordant tone. He felt smoke escaping from the crack in the screen as well as the vents the longer he tried to maintain his projected face. How long had he been smoking? He hadn't really got the opportunity to reflect on it, but if the lightners saw him like this…

I really don't want to go in the trash.

Is that what his plan was? To send me to the same place they sent him? 

How long has he been living like this? Since his phone call? Why didn't his benefactor save him? Why wasn't I there for him? 

…I should have been THERE for him. If he had no one, I should have at least been his someone.

I will be his someone now. No matter what. If he needs someone to depend on, I'll be there.

“LET’S [[Get rid of it]] THAT [Most noticed hollywood mistakes] IN YOUR FACE. I GOT FEATHERED [First Aid] THE LIKES OF WHICH [[you've never seen before]].”

Chapter Text

“OKAY [[Cathode]], [Check in your Voucher] NOW FOR AN ALL-EXPENSES PAID [[Good to Go!]]  HEALING [bundl deal].” Spamton held his hands out infront of him, fingers curled on the uninjured one. “THIS M;m4y    BE MY [best your money can buy], I'LL BE PUTTING SOME REAL [[elbowed grease]] INTO THIS [$&!#].”

Tenna had sat on the couch after being led there by the puppet pulling his hand while Spamton had stepped up onto the coffee table just feet away. Tenna no longer could maintain the projection of his face and powered off his display, the static fuzz and soft hum from his screen betraying he was still conscious, the physical consequences vividly apparent from the damage he'd endured at Spamton’s hand.

“Okay, so just like last time right? F1 for help?”

Spamton scoffed and slightly lowered his hands, gesturing out with one of them. “WITH THAT [inthusiasum], YOU MIGHT GET A [[$2.99  band-aid]] WORTH OF HEALDEALS. COME ON. [[Chop x2]], [Doctor Tennaville]. JUST BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN [retired] FROM THE [camras] DOESN’T MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MORE SHOWMANSHIP IN YA. OR HAVE YOU ALREADY LOST YOUR [spunk]?”

“It's not any more lost than yours.” Tenna's smile appeared on his blackened screen, even if it was glitching due to the screen's distortion.

“HEY;3  yyY HEY! WATCH IT. WHO’S DOING THE [[TLC]] HERE???  ? CERTAINLY NOT A [Relieve living room space]-SIZED [Air fryer] LIKE YOURSELF.”

“First a microwave, now that, any other appliances you want to try to make me feel offended by?” Tenna smirked as much as he realistically could. 

“I HAVE A WHOLE [[Christnmas_catelog]] LIST AT THE [Disposel], SO I WOULDN’T [Test] THAT IF I WERE YOU.”

“Fine, fine! Fair enough. You want more. I get it.” Tenna leaned forward, putting up his hands in a large swiping gesture. “Doc, we need your highest level of healing spell! We’ve stabilized the patient…for now, but without your quality of treatment, who knows what will become of them? Suddenly, the hallway dims, sirens are blaring, we’re losing them! We need, you said healdeals, in operating room B–”

“EAHEAHEAHAHA!” Spamton cackled at the absurdity this had turned into. “WHAT ARE [u]  DO1nG?”

“What? You don't like high-stakes medical dramas?” Tenna’s screen sparked and glitched, his face and nose blinking in before cutting to black again. He winced, but carried on with his showman's smile. “I've broadcast a few in my time, so you can't tell me I'm a bad actor. Even if I'm a bit rusty, but it's been a while! I haven't had the opportunity to brush up on it while being unplugged.”

Tenna’s smile faltered, and he flexed his hand at his side. “Although it was one of the channels Toriel always… skipped over. Always right as it was getting to the good part. It's okay, there's always something else on TV, haha.”

“NONONO, IT’S [[top 5 rated shows]]! I GOT A GOOD [has a kick to it] OUT OF IT. WHO WOULDA THOUGHT YOUR [[Free voucher]] HAS BEEN [upgraded to first class] DUE TO YOUR [$&%#] PERFORMANCE. EVEN IF YOU WERE G;3tTinG [[Top of the Line Services]] ANYWAY-”

“Wait, then what was the point for asking me for more enthusiasm?”

“EAHEAHEAHEA!” Spamton laughed, but still with that hint of mania that went on for just a bit too long. “I JUST WANTED TO SEE WHAT YOU’D [[Due]].”

Asshole. You're the one that did this in the first place!  

Even with that thought, Tenna couldn't say he didn't find some amusement in it.

Spamton's palms began glowing with the onslaught of bright green healing magic, and the power in the spell got the ends of his hair to slightly stand on end. Through the mirrored lenses, Tenna observed his eyes were closed tight, and his teeth were clamped shut, as if he was really concentrating his energy into casting this one–

A swarm of five small spamton-esc angels appeared from his hands in computerized code, and immediately took to the air, flapping around, less like birds and more like flies. When the collection of angels noticed Tenna’s malfunctioning screen, they all got to work immediately, rushing at him in a barrage of green sparkles.

The quick-reaction nature of these miniature versions of his former partner were still unsettling, and them bombarding him so suddenly had Tenna press his back farther into the couch and draw his shoulders up to his neck, immediately tense. He clenched the couch cushions underneath him as to stop himself from instinctively swatting them away.

There were little taps around the crack on his screen, sounding out in little 'tinks', mainly the crater where the figurine had struck, and the traveling damage. One was perched on his shoulder while Tenna could feel another two laying on his head and tapping his screen as they hung over it. The last two hovered mid-air as they labored away, and if Tenna had his nose right now, it would be scrunched in light of the feathers tickling his face. It was definitely different from his first encounter with just one of them… with everything that had happened.

When their job was done and some of the angels flew away from his face, seemingly admiring their handiwork (were these spells sentient? How did that work?), Tenna refocused his display, screen brightening, to find it now... easy to maintain, like usual. He traced a few fingers across the glass, finding it smooth without a divet or crease to spare. His head had also stopped smoking, even if it still felt warm to the touch.

It's... gone. It's like it didn't happen at all.

Tenna couldn't help a small smile appearing on his face, and looked back at Spamton to thank him or–

Spamton's returned grin was clearly unsteady and his brow was crinkled, as he looked at him with what looked like regret. Or was it relief? Perhaps a mix of both? 

“WELL [Lookit] YOU...!! LOOKING [Sharpest Knife you'll ever own]! [[Get the set for $59.99]].   R3aDY FOR THAT WINDOW DISPLAY  FOR [Retro-Style Used Television 4 Sale]!! HOW DO YOU [Rate your care]?”

“Well, my screen’s intact again, so that's a good thing.” 

“GOOD. r3mEMBER IT’S [[on the house]] SO NO [IOU] OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. IT’S MY [Genorisity] TO [Playback footage] FOR MY       FOR MY- FOR MY- FOR MY- FOR MY- FOR MY-”

“Spamton?” Tenna frowned deeply, and his antennas wilted. He seemed to be stuck in loop like before, and wondered if he needed help getting out of it. How would he even help him get out of something like this? Maybe like a quick nudge or-

“FFOR MY- FOR MY- FOR MY- FOR MY–” The puppet knocked himself harshly on the side of the head with the ball of his wrist, shorting out the repeating glitch, causing Tenna to stiffen. “CRIMES!!” He shouted, rocking back on his heels when he recovered. “EAHAHEA!! MY [atemnpts] ON YOUR LIFE!!! WASN’T THAT JUST THE [[horrifying]] [Excruciating] [[now accepting entry-level experience]] YOU COULD EVER HAVE?? [please don't leave that in your review of the service].”

“I won't…! I just…” Tenna leaned forward, one of the healdeals tumbling forward off his head and hanging on his nose. He pinched it by the back of its tiny blazer, as gently as possible, to remove it, and it flew free from his hand and into the air. “Are you okay?”

Spamton cocked an eyebrow at him and put his hands on his hips, one of his arms making an audible creak. “NEVER [Better than Ever]! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’M NOT, [Big shoots]??”

Everything. Everything about you isn't okay. This isn't okay! You're not supposed to be glitching like this.

You don't act like this. You don't sound like this. You don't look like this. 

But it's you. It's you. After all this time, it's you.

“You got hurt too. How about you heal yourself now? Or, if it's too much, we can go to Ralsei to heal you.”

“I’M [[Working an Underappreciated]] ON IT, OKAY? YOU WERE THE PRIORITY1. YOU THINK THAT KID WILL KNOW MORE THAN [[A well-seasoned meal]]?? I DOUBT IT. I’LL BE AN EASY FIX. COMPARED TO YOU [[Fogging up the place]] WITH THE [Malfunctioning X-Ray leakage].”

“But that's not my fault. You-”

“WHO SAID IT WAS? I’M TAKING [Responsibilility]!! THAT’S WHAT A [Most Reliable Dealerships] DOES.” Spamton held his injured wrist in his good hand and jostled it around a little. “I’M JUST A LITTLE [This Location]- D;d1S[[Provide Location?]].”

“Dislocated.”

“YES, THAT. THANK YOU. TRUST ME THIS IS [[Squeezy Cheeses]] LEVELS OF [simple styles]!! I’VE DONE THIS [Moar] TIMES THAN I CAN COUNT. FLATTERING YOU CARE SO MUCH, [[Cathode]]. REALLY.”

A loud ‘snap!’ made Tenna jump as Spamton hunched over his arm in front of him and manually twisted his wrist back into place, then saw the angels flutter around Spamton’s wrist and seemed to be tapping the previously locked joint. The sound had been nauseating, but the puppet seemed okay with it, smiling through like usual, that too-wide grin stationary as he stared off at nothing while the spamton-angels-

Spangels? Would he get a kick out of that if I called them that?

-did their assigned task like he'd popped his joints back into place a million times before. He was practiced and maybe that was why it stung so much to witness. Spamton flexed his fingers on his other hand and rolled his wrist in a circular motion.

“WITH EVERYTHING, BEING A [[Long-Nosed Doll]] HELPS SOMETIMES. [Chronic pain at home remedies] IS ONLY A [[Tire Readjustment]] AWAY LIKE THIS. ON THE [Bright! It's too bright–] SIDE.”

One of the five flapped up by Spamton’s face, tapping the bridge of his nose with its own rain of green sparkling magic, and he slowly turned his head in its direction. Suddenly, he snapped at it with his teeth, poofing away the little healdeal as his large teeth made violent contact with the computerized cloud of code. Not a second later, he reached out and crushed another between his hands, before setting his sights on another-

But stopped when he caught Tenna staring. The attack looked malicious and it caused sweat to appear on Tenna’s temple as he swallowed nervously.

“WHAT? YOUR [[finished with your free sample]], RIGHT?”

“Uh, come again?”

“YOU’RE [All healed up] NOW RIGHT? DON’T NEED ANY MORE [wheely dealies] OF [[Non-stop action]]?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m good, but do you have to get rid of them like that? They've done a lot with the short time they've been here! I think they've done a great job.” Tenna turned his attention to one sitting on his shoulder and he scratched the top of its head, then couldn't help himself but gently pet down its hair with his finger. It seemed to press its tiny head upward into the touch and flap its wings, as if it remembered their last interaction a couple days ago.

“[their] NOT ALIVE ENU;F TO [vote in the primaries]. IT’S NOT EXACTLY [[paying union dues]], [Ray Tubes]. SO FORGET ABOUT OFFERING IT A [Lifetime Gig] AND A [[Contract]].” Tenna still couldn't help but notice how Spamton’s face tinged a bit red seeing the tiny healdeal get coddled like that. “BESIDES, DO YOU WANT AN [infestation]?? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? BECAUSE I [guarenttee] YOU THAT’S [naught] WHAT YOU WANT BUT IT’S WHAT YOURE [[Going to]] GET.”

“...Infestation?” Tenna merely glanced at Spamton in curiosity.

“TAKE IT FROM THOSE [paints of all colors]. THEY WERE CLEARING [Exclusiv Oficil Spamton!] FROM THAT MANSION FOR [[years]]. SOME GO AWAY ON THEIR OWN, SOME DON'T. HEY!! NOT MY [fault line]!! TAKE IT UP WITH THE [state]!!”

“What do you mean infestation? I don't think three of your healing spells is going to cause a-”

As if on cue to answer his question for him, the little healdeal on his shoulder glitched in a mess of green, computerized code and Tenna looked to the side, before, from the haze of pixels, two of them were left in its place, causing his screen to brighten in surprise. Catching the message immediately, Tenna closed his opposite hand quickly over the duo with a firm slap, looking down with horror and a bit of disgust as two puffs of code escaped out the sides of his closed hand against his shoulder.

Oh my god I just killed it.

“THANK YOU! MAKES MY [[job qualifications]] EASIER. PRO TIP: WHEN YOU’RE [learning medical tips], REMEMBER TO [Clear duplicate spam from inbox]. ALSO BUY MORE [grift cards] AND READ [your favorite salesman] THE CODE ON THE [Back] BEFORE YOU [[hang up the call]] AND [tuck them in for bed].”

Tenna moved his hand from his shoulder, baffled, turning it over to look at his palm. Completely empty, as if the coded angel didn't exist. He didn't like the memories that flooded into his mind following it.

Spamton wiped his hands together and whistled, flexing his fingers and stretching his previously locked arm out behind his head. “GLAD THAT’S [Over and Out]!! THAT TOOK A LOT OUTTA ME!! WHAT A [sting operation]! YOU KNOW, FOR YOUR SIZE, YOU REALLY ARE [Fragil]. WHO WULD HAVE [[guest]] YOU’D NEED [buy1get1] TO GET THAT FACE BACK TO [car right off the lot condition]?”

The little puppet was adamantly struggling in his hand, trying to get free, his taunting unyielding laughter ever growing in volume, the way his breathing became steadily more rampant and strained against the pressure. For his size, he certainly was durable and very difficult to break, but still, with enough force–

The way his sobs sounded, like contorted abominations of sound. It was even more jarring, and heartbreaking, combined with the fact that Spamton never cried, not even while they were together years ago. Or if he did, the CRT hardly ever got to see it. There was one particular time that had a memory linked to it, but Spamton hadn't even known he was watching at first. The small addison always acted larger than himself, like nothing would get him down... 

“He3Y;h>HEY!! [Caller on Line1] TO [TV deals]!!1! YOU-” Spamton reached out and took a hold of the ends of Tenna’s fingers, causing him to jump up to stand, height increasing by a couple feet in surprise. Immediately Spamton withdrew, a glitch fraying the pixels of his head.

“I’m fine! N-no, wait, thank you, Spamton-! Sorry. This is all just…! I mean, all of that still just happened!” Tenna raised his hands, looking down at the salesman with his mouth pulled into a thin frown. “We have to talk about it…! We have to talk about it.”

“...WE DON’T. YOU KNOW? WE CAN JUST [[Play pretend]] IT N3vER HAPPENED. LIKE ON [channel 25 live TV]! YOU LIKE [[TV]] DONT’CHA?” Spamton flashed him an unsteady smile. 

“Of course I do. You know I do.” Tenna slowly crossed his arms. 

“GREAT! SO [[warm up those]] ACTING SKILLS. BECAUSE IT’S TIME TO [Act now before these sales expire]! JUST sH0;>E IT ALL TO THE [under the rug]! AND IF ANYBODY CAN DO IT, YOU CAN. DON’T [[excess sweat]] IT, [Cable Box]!”

“But you knowing I love TV doesn't excuse the fact that we can't let this go. You have to admit this, ALL of this, is crazy! I mean, I-” Tenna cut himself off and while keeping one arm crossed around him, bit at his knuckle on the other one, thinking on his words. Spamton’s smile was trembling, his upper lip twitching as if to keep up another unbothered facade and was horrifically failing.

Failing. He failed and was… thrown out. You never intended for me to see you again until I did and didn't know you were you. So you… played along. 

“I thought you were dead or turned to stone just this morning. Don't get mad, but I spoke to the addisons. And they made it sound like you were. Do… do they even know?”

“NO.” His answer came fast. Way too fast. “AND [there] NEVER. GOING [2] KNOW.”

“Who else does then?”

“...[[Easels]].” Spamton hung his head and forced his hands in his blazer pockets. “I DIDN’T GET TO FOOL THEM. THEY’RE THE [first place winnar] ONE THAT S4w ME AND [[connected the dots]]. I WAS ONE OF THEIR BEST KEPT [Secrets in the City]. THEN TH3yy  ;Y   TOLD THEIR [posse] LIKE THEIR [[28 additional flavors]] AND [T.M.]. THEN I MET KRIS. AND THEIR [Friend(s)] KNOW. THAT’S IT.”

“So Swatch, and the rest of the mansion staff? And the lightners.”

The puppet nodded. “AND IT [Have] TO [[Stayed the extra night?]] THAT WAY. IT’S [$#!%TY] ENOUGH YOU KNOW NOW.” He gestured angrily up at him with a dismissing wave of his hand then audibly ground his teeth. 

“Why is it so bad I know?” Tenna’s brow crinkled. “I've been trying to find out where you were for years! Because you know what I built up as the story?! I thought you left because you outgrew my relevancy and thought! Screw it! Who needs a TV anymore!? Who needs one, really?! You think I’d be more bothered by that then you turn– you, uh… you getting…”

Tenna caught himself, albeit a little late, and trailed off. He really didn't want to say it, just the thought was getting his chest to well up in a harsh ache when it had just gone away, and Spamton narrowed his eyes up at him when he didn't finish his sentence. 

That you got turned into a puppet. By what it looks like. 

“WELL YOU [Obfishiously] SOUND BOTHERED BY IT. SO WHY DON’T YOU [Share your thoughts with the rest of us], MR. COMMUNICATION IS [keys].”

Don't make me say it. Please.

“Okay, fine! It's still a little weird to me! It is!" Tenna's voice raised, and his anguish at the situation laced every word. "Damn it, Spamton, what did you expect?! But that's not what's bothering me primarily!”

Spamton bared his teeth and pointed upwards at Tenna, gesturing with his other hand. “OKAY, [Hot Shot]! TELL ME [moar the merrier]!! HOW BAD IS IT?! LET’S HEAR THOSE [Delicis]   [[key note features]]!! RIGHT FROM THE SOURCE!! LEAVE YOUR [Answer] IN THIS [[provided survey booklet]]!!"

It is pretty bad.

"It's not bad, I just wasn't expecting it...! I didn't know you'd look like that! It's not exactly something you get to see every day...! But that's not the point I'm trying to make, here."

"WHAT IS THE [point] YOURE TRYNA [Making] THEN??!”

“I’m more bothered by the fact you never called me! I understand not being able to make it to the studio, but you never called. It'd be a shock to see you at first, but I meant what I told you back then! You'd always have a place at the studio. No matter what. Did that not mean anything to you?”

The puppet put his arms down as his defenses visibly resided, and he stared up at Tenna without giving a response.

Tenna put his foot down and tried to resist broadcasting the tears that were building up on his screen. He clasped his hands in front of him, trying to keep his composure, but he could feel himself shrink a few feet down anyway. 

“No matter what, we could have made something work. So why didn't you let me know what was going on instead of running away?!"

Spamton stiffened and visibly grit his teeth tighter, gaze drifting off and away from the taller darkner. He stepped off of the coffee table and onto the floor, rubbing his head slightly from where he hit it earlier.

“YOU [[changed]] YOUR [We’re Sorry. The # You Have Dialed Is No Longer in Service. Please Try Again Later].”

“What…?”

“YOUR [[credit card numbers]]. YOUR [Please Leave a Message After the Tone].”

“I… I got that part. No, I didn't change my number.” Tenna hesitated for a bit and took a breath in, inadvertently holding it. “...Did you try to call?”

Spamton tilted his head down in a barely noticeable nod. Slowly, ever so slowly, the soft hum of static started coming from him, and Tenna stiffened to see his glasses go from that pink and yellow shade to monochrome snow. He didn't move, just stayed stationary.

“...Spamton?” Tenna took a few steps towards him and lightly shook his shoulder. When he didn't respond immediately, that was enough to have Tenna's fear build, concern welling up as he shook him a bit harder-

Oh no.

Don't let this be the thing that breaks him. Please don't let this be the thing that breaks him!

"Okay, okay! We can talk about something else...! The phone's a lot right now, we don't need to bring it up. What's even a phone? Last time I checked we still carried messages around with the mail. Haha! Right? ...Right?"

"...I';mmM hERE. ssTUPID [[Signal Lost. Refresh Page?]]. GIVE ME A [second]." 

Tenna sighed in relief. 

Thank the light. 

"STUPID [Lost Connection?]. STUPID [[Head]]." Spamton huffed in irritation and shook his head viciously, but it was a sharp glitch that sent him staggering backwards, usurping the static from his glasses.

Tenna fiddled with his hands and his expression crumpled as his height lowered some more, now just a head or two taller than Spamton. He wanted to apologize, or to reassure him they didn't have to talk about anything more that night if they didn't want to, or at least nothing regarding Spamton's phone calls.

Calls. Calls for help?

You tried calling me but... couldn't reach me.

"I'm sor-"

“SORRY ABOUT THAT [[rAy Tubes]]!! GOT DISTRACTED [Thinking an awful lot]. DON’T [mind the limp] ME."

Tenna was surprised he'd been beaten to the punch with the apology.

"You don't need to apologize for, what, glitching? It's not your fault."

"GREAT, [Grate], EAHAHA, ssSAY, SO JUST TO [[Clearer Windows]] THINGS UP, YOURE ALL [back in action] TO 100% NOW, RIGHT? CUZ YOU CERTAINLY LOOK THE PART WITH [where] I’M ST;@nd1NG.”

Tenna was perplexed at the tone shift from the puppet and his antennas drooped as he flashed his best smile. “Yeah, I thought we clarified that. You don't need to help me anymore.”

“GREAT SO SIGN HERE [metaphorically] TO CLOSE OUR [agreement], TO SAY [Your Local Salesman] [[Is not responsible for any further injury sustained by the client]] BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS [problem solved]!” Spamton’s hand shot out, tense and shaking. “THIS IS JUST A [procedure] IN THE [big leagues] FOR CLOSING OUT A DEAL.”

Hes talking about the deal we made that started this whole mess?

“Why do you think that deal we made matters anymore? That entire thing was built on you lying to me.”

A place to hide out for details about Spamton. But you're Spamton. You've BEEN Spamton.

“IF YOU RACK YOUR [electron tubing] AROUND IT, I REALLY WASN’T [lied] TO YOU. I TOLD YOU WHERE [[was he before]]. YOU DIDN'T ACCEPT IT AND I JUST SAW [[opertunities]]. SO WHY DON'T WE. JUST CLOSE THE. DEAL. ALREADY, HUH?”

Tenna sighed heavily and took Spamton’s outstretched hand, shaking it in his own. “There. Deal closed. Now can we get back to what we were talking about–”

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR [[Busyness]]!! CAN’T SAY I DIDNT [appreciat] IT. NOW I’LL JUST [pack my things for the road]!”

...What?!

“Wait, what?” Tenna balked at the little salesman. “What do you mean for the road?”

His grip was tightening on Spamton’s hand as he said it, completely unintentionally and the puppet’s gaze flickered down at their hands and back up.

“WELL YOU’RE NOT [[obligations]] TO LOOK AFTER [[Running scams in your area]]. WHAT, YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA [Stick] AROUND? YOU>rE OBVIOUSLY [red hot raging] AFTER MY [[Less than flavorable]] ACTIONS. I KNOW I WOULD BE IF I WERE IN YOUR [Dress shoese size 15]!!   WITH THE [new upgrade] TO mM;y    Y      [[Get in the best shape of your life]], IT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE FOR YOU.”

“...So you were going to leave again? When I found out?”

Spamton paused, and Tenna took that pause as all the answers he'd need. His brow crinkled and he could feel his bottom lip start to tremble.

“...Where are you going to go?”

“I’Ll FIND SOMEWH3rE. REELY. I’LL BE [[Flight Risk List]]- fffINE! YOU WERE JUST A [[escape plan]] SO I COULD GET OUT OF DODGE AT LAST MINUTE! NOW I HAVE [planning periods]. YOU DON’T WANT TO [Room and Board] WITH SOMEONE WHO ALMOST TURNED YOUR FACE   ;1nnT0       [Sea Glass Collection Ideas], D0    y>0\u??” Spamton tugged against Tenna’s hand, but Tenna found himself to only grip it tighter when he tried.

“I… I guess not.” 

“RIGHT!! NOT A [Good ideas]. YOU’RE A [Smart Guy], YOU KNOW HOW IT WORKS. WHO kn0WS WH4;>tT   COULD [Hadplen]. EAHAHA, IT’S ONLY [Ideal] THAT YOU STAY [[Keep a mindful distance]] AWAY FROM ANY [occupational hazards] IF YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR L1ghTN3R [Network]!” 

This only made Tenna feel more distraught. Spamton attempted to pull away again, unsuccessfully, and Tenna could see beads of sweat appear on his forehead. 

“...I Kn0W YOU STILL WANT [Answers], [[CRTs]], AND YOU’LL GET THEM. YOU [don't tell a soul] ABOUT THE [[Salesman]] [Living in your walls] AND I’LL ANSWER ANYTHING YOU WANT ME TO. [Terms and Conditions Apply]. BUT IT’S [All Alone on a Late Night?] AND YOU PROBABLY WANT TO GET BACK TO YOUR     [bedtime regimens for lonely bodies]!! STILL WE CAN MAKE A [Deal] IF YOU WANT TO. HOW’S THAT    SOUND? THEN I’LL COME BACK.”

“I mean, I'm not… I’m not saying no," Tenna attempted a small, nervous laugh with how this was ironically going. "Ahaha, I mean it would be nice if you didn't, y'know, drop everything to leave again.”

Spamton froze, and Tenna could feel how tense he was with how tightly he was gripping his hand. 

“DO YOU [Want] ME AROUND AFTER WHAT I DID?? YOU [Honistly] TRUST ME TO NOT DO IT AGAIN??”

Tenna’s grip loosened enough for Spamton to take this as an opportunity to yank his hand away and hold it to his chest, almost defensively.

“We started over. Right? That should mean something. You wouldn't go back on everything we just went through.”

“I DON’T KNOW. I MADE A [Missed Take] BUT ASK [anyone in the stands?] AROUND HERE AND THEY’LL TELL YOU I’M A [[Crook]] AND A [Plants on Fire]. JUST ASK ANYONE AND THEY’LL TELL YOU I’M A [[Hacks for Card Games]], AND A [messaging scams] AND A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING FREAK. YOU EVEN [Experience it firsthand in IMAX]!! YOU CAN’T JUST [belief] I’LL NEVER HURT YOU AGAIN. YOU DON’T KNOW ME.”

I don't know you? That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me.

“What are you talking about?” Tenna couldn't help it now, his shoulders trembled as tears finally spilled over, cycling on the sides of his screen. “I know you better than anyone. I don't think you're any of those things. And you know I don't.”

I said and thought them...! But I didn't know it was you! I wouldn't have... I wouldn't. If I had known.

...Does it make a difference to him? I still said them.

“SO MUCH HAS [[Heres your change]]. IT’S BEEN [Years missing from your resume?]- YEARS. I’M NOT WHO YOU’RE [Used products] TO. MY [Big Shot] YEARS?? THEY WERE ALL A HUGE ACT TO GET TO THE [[Top of the Food Chain]].”

“Maybe. Maybe it was. But I don't think so. Maybe some of it was. And maybe some of it you hid from me, like what you had to do for your benefactor. What…”

Tenna trailed off briefly, remembering the trepidation in Spamton’s voice when he spoke in sound check. Tenna had given him a double thumbs up at the time… 

‘See? Maybe it's just stress, Spammy. You're still talking like you! There's no voices that aren't yours. It's all okay!’

Fuck. No, no no no… How long? How long has this been going on?! 

Don't… don't think of it right now. Keep a level head. Keep reassuring him everything's okay.

Was it happening right in front of me?! And I didn't notice it?!

He realized his silence and cleared his throat, rubbing his wrist inadvertently. “Wh-what may have been happening. To you. But even if you hid things and acted on others, I feel like it couldn't have entirely been an act. I know you, Spamton. I’ve known you for years. And I want to state again that I trust you.”

Spamton hesitated, his smile breaking as his brow furrowed. Tenna seemed to relax as the smaller darkner’s guard came back down, and maybe he'd have a change of heart–

“EAHAHAHA…! OKAY! WELL GOOD TO KNOW YOU HAVEN’T L3aRNED  A DAMN THING FROM THE PAST [72 hr &45 min runtime] OF [Entreprenurial disagreement]. WELL I [Have]. AND I KNOW THAT- KNOW THAT- KNOW THAT- KN0;;wW th4     >tT-” Spamton’s jaw snapped shut and Tenna saw his eyes close in apparent frustration with the vocal interruption as he whipped on his heel, rushing quickly towards the front door, his shoulders drawn tight to his neck–

Tenna couldn't help himself. He lunged forward, snatching Spamton’s arm in an iron-clad grip. He'd also rocketed back up in height, taking the puppet off of his feet and held him in the air as he dangled. Spamton turned to look at him in sudden surprise, his head glitching in a disorderly fashion.

Tenna couldn't find something to say at first to explain himself, but what came out was certain, and said with an unintended finality to it that even surprised himself.

“You're not leaving.”

He was gripping Spamton’s arm tight, but the puppet didn't seem to respond to that aspect of it all, as a light blush shone on his face. Seeing him unexpectedly blush made Tenna’s screen brighten ever so slightly and he could feel his own face sport some color to it.

“I… I mean- you can't. You can't do that to me again. Not after I just found you. Wh- D-do you do this on purpose?!” Tenna exclaimed, the darkness in his words prior turning into desperation. “You ruin things to take advantage of whatever situation you've put yourself in and then everything, for everyone else, gets worse. And then you run. Do you even know you're doing it? When will you stop running away?!”

Spamton didn't take his eyes off of Tenna, and his brow crinkled in regret as he swung slightly in his grasp.

Is that too harsh?! 

No. No it's not. I've had it with him. Wanting to leave so quick! After what he's done!

Why?! Isn't he also relieved I know who he is?!

“So don't you dare leave me again. Because I swear, Spamton, I’m not going to let this go. Sure, maybe I don't forgive you completely! What you did… could have done so much damage! And then you were lying and have lied. About the phone, about us, and now about Neo, about yourself…! But I don't think you're crooked. I think you're you're all alone. And you're scared. And I am too! God, hahaha,”

He wildly gestured out in front of him towards the puppet. “I’m terrified…! You have to understand I’m still… processing all of this! But maybe I can be more than just some transaction or some deal or some hideout to you now that I know you're you. So will you stay? If not for my sake, then for your own? Please?”

The puppet glanced at the ground below him then back up at Tenna. He looked pitiful like this, and he looked like he knew it. Tenna crouched down, lowering him to the ground and releasing his arm, but unlike the handshake from earlier, Spamton didn't immediately withdraw away from him, rather proceeding to lower his arm slowly.

Please say something?!

“...Umm…I’ll also let you have the bed…?”

“DEAL!” Spamton grinned with a contagious enthusiasm, like he'd just been offered an offer he couldn't refuse, but still he held himself like shame was weighing him down. “I GET A [Extended Stay] WITHOUT EVEN BEGGING FOR IT?? AND WHEN IM ALREADY [convicted of] SOME OF THE MOST [atroshis] CRIMES I'VE EVER DONE?? LET’S SEE THOSE [$&%#]S DOWN AT THE [Elite Country Club] DENY MY [screening criminal record] AT THIS RATE!”

Back to the hotel thing? Okay, if we're doing this.

Tenna smiled in return, relieved that worked, but somewhat irritated that was the point he chose to respond to. “Not just an extended stay, but permanent residence. If you wanted. And in return, you have to stop running away.”

“OH YEAH, [Shore]! YOU JUST [Ask] AND I’LL DELIVER!”

“Ahahaha,” Tenna laughed and put his head in one hand that was propped on his knee. “By parcel? Or by envelope?”

He'll like that joke.

“U;>h Hm,” Spamton pondered that and chuckled. “WHY NOT WITH A [[Love-Letter-For-You.txt.vbs]]–”

The puppet’s eyes went wide and face turned dark red as he slapped his hands over his mouth then anxiously slid his hands to the sides of his face. “[[Disregard]]!! THAT LITTLE [worm]!! EAHAHAHA! WHo HAS EVEN [[Kindly Check the attached LOVELE;t>^t    rrR]]-!”

Tenna looked at him, stunned, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. His screen would feel warm to the touch as it broadcast a bright blush. 

“THAT [Little ditty] COULD BE FOR ANYONE. THAT’S THE [Features of Marketing] OF TH1s$ [[Advertisements]].”

Tenna snorted and couldn't help but to break into a lighthearted snicker at Spamton’s embarrassment as he brought a knuckle up to his mouth to hopefully stifle it. But he couldn't, and the puppet looked back up at him. “Sorry…! Sorry, but, as if I needed more proof you're my little mailman.”

Spamton didn't respond to that, but Tenna could see him gain back the traces of a soft, relieved grin. 

“I bet you've had to deliver multiple love letters. So many you lost track. Don't worry too much about it, okay?” Tenna sighed off the last of his giggles. 

“ITS ALSO THE FACT IT’S [[Want to axe that Late Fee]] AND OTHER [residents] ARE GOING TO BE [[Rising early]] SOON. MY [mind] CAN BARELY KEEP UP WITH MY [mouth].”

“Right… we should… get some rest. After everything.”

Well I can say my headache’s long gone. But everything… and what it all means…  it's all too much. Maybe we should hold off on the conversations until later. 

This feels so surreal though. It feels like when I wake up, this whole thing will be a dream and he'll be gone by morning. It’ll be back to that same old routine…

“Hey, since you're sticking around, do you want another change of clothes? To sleep in? I haven't seen you wear anything else besides that blazer.” 

“SURE. I’LL TAKE ONE OF YOUR [hand-me-downs]," Spamton said but then paused. "...DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANYTHING [Unbelonging] TO YOU?? NO [offensive maneuvers], BUT I DON’T FIT IN ANYTHING OF YOURS.”

It was true, there was nothing he owned personally that the little salesman could wear and not trip on. Tenna being able to adjust his height came with some notable advantages, like being able to fit in any clothing size he wanted and have it alter with him as he pleased, but as soon as it came off, whatever article it was would ‘poof’ back to it’s normal sizing; as it was before he'd gotten a hold of it. Tenna preferred to stock his suits in his regular larger sizes, even if a certain Big Shot thought they should just order more of one size and have him shift every time he was readying in the dressing room. Part of him thought this was just an opportunity for Spamton to start claiming more of Tenna’s suits as his own.

However, there were a couple items he'd stocked in the gift shop that could work. Mainly for the lightners… but to his disappointment they didn't seem all that interested with spending their excess points at the gift shop for Tv-Time pins and figurines and snowglobes and keychains and other fun wacky whirligigs he thought they'd like. Still…

“Hmm, now that you mention it, I might have something that might be useful. You look to be almost their size. Wait here.” Tenna walked quickly into the bedroom, seeing the overturned box in the middle of the floor where a couple mini figurines of his were scattered about. Seeing them had him… hesitate for a moment.

The glint of gold in the light of his screen. Trembling segmented hands holding onto the legs of the figurine ready to slam it down–

Tenna swallowed roughly but knelt down anyway, tipping the box back over onto its base and rummaging through what remained. In it, there was a couple folded shirts, and he lifted one out randomly. Susie’s size may have still been a bit too large on the little puppet, so Tenna opted for another stashed in the bottom of the box. After fishing it out and holding it in the crook of his arm, he haphazardly tossed the scattered merchandise back inside, including the remainder of the figurines. He'd… have to do something about them eventually.

“Okay, Spamton! I found something!” Tenna rose to his feet, turning back around to venture back to the living room. However he screeched to a halt to find the puppet had snuck up on him from behind. The CRT jumped, and felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest at the unexpected presence. 

He is really quiet when he wants to be. 

“WHAT IS THIS?! [yours truly] RE4Lly GOING TO [Dress Me Up] IN SOME OF YOUR [[Tacky]] [#$&%] [[IT’S. T.V. TIME]] MERCHINDISE?? I DIDN’T HELP [co-sign] THIS CRAP.”

“I told you to wait in the other room!”

Spamton jumped up and snatched the shirt from Tenna’s arm, unfolding it to Tenna’s ignored protest of “Hey!”. He then raised an eyebrow at the shirt then looked up at Tenna, unimpressed, as if searching for an excuse that wasn't there.

“...I LEAVE AND YOU [Island resort] TO CHEAP [[Tourism]] GIMMICKS LIKE THIS TO [Stock] YOUR [[Privately-ouwned Storefront]] GIFT SHOP??”

“Just so you know, I had to learn a lot about sales to continue funding the show while not overloading the schedule with all the outdated commercials. There was a learning curve!”

“CURVED INTO THE [[dirt]] MORE LIKE IT.” Spamton flipped the t-shirt around, and in big emboldened letters, with some classic wacky text, it read ‘I survived the (Special Incentive) BONUS ROUND on TV TIME and all I got was this T-shirt!’ 

“I thought Kris would have liked it! At least a little. You should see the other ones I made,” Tenna balled his fist and swiped it across himself with a very forced enthusiasm. “I thought they really knocked it out of the park.”

“YEAH. AND ITS [[Because]] OF THAT THE [Park] IS [[Closed for Repairs]] FOREVER.”

Tenna frowned, sighing. “Alright. Well. Do you want the shirt or not?”

“WHAT IT NEEDS IS MORE [Spamton] AND THAT’S [Exact Change] WHAT I’M GONNA GIVE IT!! NO [Takebacks]!!1! GOT IT? GOOD.”

Spamton, not waiting another moment, slipped off his blazer and tossed it on the floor beside him, and before Tenna could fully look away to spare them both some embarrassment, his screen heating up immensely with the sudden actions of the puppet, was able to glimpse the sight of his torso. It looked like the doll-jointed aspects of his new… appearance was his entire body. He wasn't sure why it wouldn't be, as it seemed obvious with the alterations already present, but the segmented nature of even his torso, midsection and arms caught Tenna completely off guard. There were some scuffs and his exterior looked a bit weathered, already insinuating he hadn't had the easiest life out there in the city. But seeing him like this…

What COULD have done that? He's a cyber darkner. He's a program. He's an addison. What could pull off this level of change?

Did he hurt? Did he panic? Could he stop it? Was he all alone? Did he have ANYONE who could help him? Did he have any friends? He looked popular and beloved, but from what the addisons said, it just sounded like everyone turned on him at once… once his numbers dropped. 

Why did they collapse so fast? Surely Spamton could have made something work without his help from his contract. That's what I always assumed anyway… he knew what he was doing and was good at it. No, not only good at it- the best. He knew all the right things to say and do, as if he knew exactly what would happen next. So why–

I should have been there. I should have followed him. I wouldn't have abandoned him.

It had really all been for nothing. For a blind chance of becoming big like him. 

“WELL IT’S NOT [No_2nd_Date] LEVELS OF AWFUL, IT’S NOT GOING IN MY [[Summer wardrobe]], BUT I’LL TAKE IT. [[Heaven above]], I MISS WHEN [Everything 40% Off] WAS FITTED.”

Spamton’s words pulled Tenna completely out of his thoughts, and he redirected his gaze back down at him. He'd put on the shirt, it still being a bit too large, coming down to below his knees, but he seemed content enough with it. 

“...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“IT’S NOT YOUR [Lawful causes]. HEY MAYBE YOU CAN [Make up for it all] BY GOING TO THOSE [[Good-for-nothing]] [Traitors] AND WHIP UP A [New seasonal look] FOR [[Everyones_favorit_Saelsman]], HUH? I GET TO PICK THOUGH. NO [[Funny Business]]. WHAT DO YOU S–”

Tenna wasn't sure what came over him.

He knelt down in front of Spamton and sat on his knees, sadly slouching and with antennas lowered over his face as he stared. 

“[Cathode]? YOU… OKAY? YOU’RE, EAHAHA, [Lookin’] AT ME FUNNY.”

Tenna then reached out, his arms feeling like they acted outside of himself as he scooped the puppet up, wrapping his arms around his small, small frame in a solid and unyielding embrace as he held him close to his chest.

There was a glitchy intake of air from Spamton, presumably out of surprise. He hadn't tried to actively resist it, rather tensing at first and putting his hands on Tenna's shoulders as if to push himself away. The reaction was done to Tenna’s dismay, and it made him want to shrink down to practically nothing and continuously apologize-

but then, to Tenna’s relief, Spamton relaxed in his arms. 

Tenna could feel his heart drumming away and his shoulders quaked as he slid a hand to the back of Spamton’s head as to hold him closer. He really felt like he was holding a life sized plastic doll, not his previous partner and best friend, but the fact he was doing both made him feel the ache again in his chest, but also gratefulness for the way things turned out.

There were small hands equally clutching his shirt in Spamton’s best attempt to return the embrace, and feeling them there had Tenna’s heart swell with a blissful melancholy but also with a joy and comfort he hadn't felt since their separation years ago. His height steadily climbed in response, no doubt lifting the puppet off of his feet once more, and he hunched further over the smaller darkner, keeping him secure.

They stayed like that for a while, not saying anything, just finding comfort in the reality they made together.

Spamton was the one to break the silence, and he rested his nose on Tenna's shoulder.

“...ARE YOU [Mad Deals this Weekend Only] AT ME?”

“If you'll be honest, then I’ll be honest... I am a little. Maybe a bit. It's complicated.”

Spamton stayed silent for a minute, as if he was going through some sort of mental list.

“ABOUT OUR [[First Collaboration]]-”

“The poster? Spamton, It's okay. I don't care about the poster right now.”

“I REALLY DIDN’T MEAN TO [[mends tears with ease]]- [[What a Rip Off!]]- I. DIDN’T MEAN. TO. RIP IT. THAT WAS. AN [Accidents Happen, don't let it happen to you].”

“I know. Accidents happen, after all. You, uh, said it best, so it seems you're onto something. It's upsetting for sure, but what about the real deal? I'm more concerned about you.”

“...BUT YOU DON’T HATE ME.”

“No. Why would I ever hate you?”

“YOU DON’T [Know what this baby can do]-” Spamton sighed and Tenna felt him grab the fabric of his shirt tighter in closed fists, seemingly out of annoyance with the ads. “YOU DON’T. KNOW. WHAT I’VE DONE.”

“You’ll tell me. You would have had your reasons.”

“WHAT IF I CAN’T TELL YOU? WHAT [If and only if] YOU DON’T [[Get It while it's hot]] MY REASONS?”

“I mean, I’ll do my best to understand.”

“YOU MIGHT [Hate it! 1/10] ME FOR THEM.”

“...Do you want me to hate you?”

A pause from the puppet, and Tenna’s breath stood still in waiting.

“...IT’D MAKE MORE [Cents] THAN THIS IF YOU DID.”

“How can I make this make sense to you? More than me hating you?”

“I [[Whoops! Out of ideas]]– [$&#%]. I DON’T kn0;W^W. IT JUST DOESN’T FEEL [Realignments in the workplace].”

“It doesn't feel real?”

Tenna felt Spamton nod his head. “YOU SAY YOU [Know what you're in for] BUT YOU REALLY, [[Reely]] DON’T. YOU DON’T KNOW ME. AND I DON’T BLAME YOU.”

‘I don't… blame you. For not knowing. I…! Eaheahea…! I don't even know who I am a;<nYYMORE E1THER’

“Can I… get to know you again, then? Like we’ve been doing the past couple days? And I'll make it feel real.”

Tenna felt Spamton take a shaky breath in, and a long exhale out, as if steadying his nerves. He listened intently for the puppet’s response, which hadn't come, so he continued.

“I'm happy you're here. I'm… just so happy you stayed.”

“I [Got] THAT PART. YOU’RE [[Huge Weekend Event Sale]]. I ALSO SMELL [Springtime Blooms].”

Tenna couldn't help but crack a smile and lightly chuckle before sniffling. He hadn't even noticed a flower had bloomed at the end of his nose. Tears were also running down his screen in static trails.

“Sorry…! It's not every day I get to experience this. Ahahaha-! Just this morning… Or yesterday morning? I don't know at this point and I don't care, but I thought I'd never get the chance again regardless.”

“YOU [Thoughts and] YOU’D NEVER GET THE CHANCE? TO DO WHAT?”

“To speak with you again. To hold you again. And also to learn what you've been up to. To get to know you all over again.”

He sniffed again and his smile wobbled, but the sentence caused Spamton to tense.

“ARE [You] [Tear-Free Facial Cleansers] RIGHT NOW?”

“Wh-what?”

Tenna could feel Spamton's hand slide down and push himself lightly off his chest and immediately Tenna set him down, the puppet now standing on his thighs. 

“WE…” Spamton looked up at him, sadly, then slicked back his hair. “WE SHOULD STOP. [[Ready for prices to go down]]- R3aDY TT[2] GET THIS [[Tearjerker of a film!]] OVERWITH. IF YOU ARE.”

“R-right. No, yeah! You're right. Gosh, we… we've been at this for awhile, haven't we? Okay. Okay!” Tenna wiped the tears on his screen with the ball of his wrist and shrank down enough to stand, the puppet scampering off of him as he did so. 

“Just let me grab a change of clothes as well and, just as I promised, since you're staying, you get full access to the bed.” Tenna walked over to the closet, rummaging through the different styles of dress wear until he retrieved what also looked to be TV Time centric night clothes. When he turned back around, Spamton had sat himself on the bed, looking despondently downward at his hands folded in front of him.

“I remember how you are about your deals. I have no problem taking the couch! I'll make it work.” Tenna stood, gazing at Spamton, his smile faltering.

What is he thinking about? Did I say something wrong?

“W-well… good night!” Tenna turned on a heel to exit the bedroom-

“H;hEY. [Glow box]. WHERE DO YOU [Youre thinking about it] YOU’RE GOING?”

That was enough to cause him to pause and look back around over his shoulder.

“Uh, to the other room? I did specify the bed is yours as long as you're staying here.”

An answer that I feel I’ll deeply regret.

“YEAH BUT THEN   WH3rE AM I GOING TO GET A [two ton] SPACE HEATER LIKE Y;yOUR>>  SELF? THE [D1sc0unt Supermarket] THIS SIDE OF THE [[Communal fountain]]?? I DON’T THINK THEY SELL THE [Vintage models].”

“Back to that, huh? You know the day the lightners actually befriend a space heater you're going to really regret some of these.” Tenna replied with a smug look on his face.

Spamton sighed and got up from the bed, adamantly walking over to Tenna and grabbed his pant leg, attempting to go back toward the bed and pull him along with. With an exclamation of surprise, Tenna allowed it, but it was difficult to place his footing with a too-small darkner trying to guide his way. 

“Okay, Spamton! I got the message!” He put his foot down, causing the puppet to pull his hand away and step away quickly. “I got it. We’ll share. You don't need to do that!”

“GOOD. I DIDN’T INCLUDE THAT [[Legal loopholes you'll miss]] FOR NO [reasons]. I DON’T TAKE UP [[Too much space in your inventory?]] ANYWAY WITH BEING A [Hot_Single] AND A [[pocket-sized utensils]]. THOUGH I WANT TO MAKE A [+1 Add ons (fee included)].”

“An add on?”

“[[Request Pending]]. BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO.”

“Sure. What can I do?”

“...CAN YOU [[mute Television options]] BEFORE YOU [cruise- not snooze]??”

That's… an odd one. I don't see… why not?

“Yeah I mean– oh. Was I dreaming at some point last night?” Tenna smiled and laughed. “Hahaha! I don't even remember what it was about. Hope you didn't see anything too crazy."

You used to like my dreams. Your recounting of them the following mornings were the only reason why I remembered some of them. I remember you'd tease me for them some mornings. But I miss that sometimes the most. 

“Guess it's been so long since I’ve been asleep around someone else to really monitor that! But sure. As you know though, ‘closed captions’ turns on when I do that.”

“I KNOW,” Spamton still looked somewhat appreciative. “THANKS.”

Tenna watched, his smile fading as Spamton returned to sitting himself on top of the bed, rummaging some blankets together in a small nest-like shape, similar to how he did when he'd first got here, when Tenna was pestered about the sleeping conditions as it was. He rolled over to face away from the tv darkner and curled himself up, pulling a blanket up over his shoulder as he nestled into the covers. Like he was trying to make himself smaller somehow.

…What has he been through those years alone?

Why are you so apprehensive that I get to know you? We've talked for days. I really enjoy your company.

I missed you.

…How could anyone want to throw you away?

Dressing then in his own sleepwear, he tried to shut down the mental question as quickly as it came up, just to save him the anguish of overthinking again–

“TENNA?"

"Hmm?" He hummed in response, latching onto the chance to stop thinking about it for now.

"...YOU REALLY DON’T THINK I’M [[Crooked]]?”

Tenna sat down on the opposite side of the bed, looking over his shoulder at the puppet.

“No. I don't.”

Maybe you do some crooked things. But they can only push you so hard.

I almost got thrown away. I know what it's like to be at the end and having to act out any way you can in order to prevent it.

I can't… imagine… actually…

Tenna waited for a response, which there was none. In the silence, he sighed deeply and with a quick press of a button on the side of his head, a little muted icon popped up in the corner of his screen, and he lay down, facing away from the smaller darkner. 

And the sound of a tv shutting off was the last thing he heard in the room.

Chapter Text

…

…

…

‘Get OUT of here, Spamton! And don't you dare try to enter that basement ever again! The next time we see you, you won't even get the decency to be thrown out through the back entrance!’

…

…

‘What? YOU? You think you're going to be a big shot? Spam, how about you tell us how many sales you've gotten in the last week? Or your last sale in general. You need to be realistic. You can't just lie to yourself and us.’

…

…

'I'm exhausted. You keep up with these feeble attempts, but it's never going to come to fruition. That's my project, do you understand me? Not something to feed into your mindless delusions.’

…

‘Heard the last of that crooked big shot’s cars are going to the trash zone today. Careful of disposing them, a lot still have hazard logos.’

‘What ever became of him anyway?’

…

‘Another glitched pop-up ad appeared around one of the crosswalks in the city today. Where do they keep coming from? These nuisances take forever to get rid of and we have better things to do.’

…

‘This is all that spammy mailman’s fault!’

…

‘I knew he was a hack from the beginning. I knew he could never do it by himself. He had to have help. Some insider secret in order to make all that happen.’

…

‘If he finds out I'm a fraud, that I can't help him stay relevant, what then? What will happen when he finds out you made me like this?’

…

‘Did Spamton not have any commercials about beating someone to death with a statue that you could mindlessly puppet?!’

…

Sorry, Tenna.

…

I shouldn't have left. 

But I had to fix things. I knew I couldn't, but I had to try.

I tried to fix it with Neo, but...

…

Besides, knowing what would happen, if you were there, I think it would have been a lot worse.

...

…

'It can't be just…! I know you told me it's permanent,’

maybe there's someone who knows something!’

‘We’ll fix you right up, I promise, I just have to… figure out what to do’

…

You can't.

I'm sorry. I know how you are.

But you can't fix me. Not after…

…

Not after that.

…

...

His room in Cyber City. 

Panicked, ragged breathing and whimpers of worry and anguish. Sweat pooling and running down his temple in droves as he paced, getting himself tangled in the cord and nearly toppling over the table that held the phone's receiver. Prayers on a phone solely replying in dialtone, even with the addison’s repeated entered attempts of a number he knew better than his own name at this point. 

The repetition and cycle of whispers of denial, turning to raised pleas, that overlapped one another in his stammers.

‘Please [Heaven], not like this. Please not like this. I wasn't going to say anything, really! I wasn't going to tell him! Don't you know how this business works?! You're the one who taught ME after all! You say one thing and mean another! Or twist it in some way! 

Don’t take everything from me just because I'm playing the game! What we had meant nothing! I wouldn't have told him! He meant nothing to me! You know this, right?! He meant nothing!’

Maybe he would have changed his last words if he'd known he'd never speak like himself again.

He couldn't lie to a being that knew everything, but if Spamton hadn't tried. 

He was always trying, wasn't he?

…

…

No, don't think about it! You remember what happened last time you thought about this!

Right… 

…

…

…

Please not me.

…

…

Spamton gripped warm object in front of him, clinging to it like a lifeline. 

The sensation… grounded him somewhat.

He nuzzled his face closer to it, noticing how it felt like it was rising and falling as he pressed his face into it. It felt like his partner’s shoulder, from all the way back when, where the show had wrapped for the evening and two stars laughed off their on-camera performances around shots of celebratory whiskey and backstage banter. The night turning into a back and forth need to escape the studio and surround themselves in city lights, where both fell asleep to featurettes starring their most favored performances, courtesy of the television himself. 

A self-indulgent hollow, filled fittingly with each other’s company.

Groggily, Spamton realized his arms didn't fully wrap around the thing in front of him, which was odd. Usually his arms were able to wrap around pillows. It was warm… and it smelled like a floral welcome basket in here, wherever he was.

He cracked open an eye, bleary vision bringing with it the image of Tenna, not a pillow, in front of him, turned away but  sleeping soundly. Odd, because there was a faint glow just in front of him. His screen only did that when he was… awake…

Oh, what did it matter?

Spamton nuzzled closer and his eyes shut again, his glasses tipping up as he relaxed into the other’s soft breaths. He attempted to pull the taller, heavier darkner closer to him, but ended up pulling himself closer instead.

…

…

Tenna was warm. Especially when they'd lay together and Spamton would massage his antennas and murmur how much he loved watching his shows, his broadcasts, his performances. He'd watch him light up the room with that too-bright screen of reddening color bar hues, then scoot back down underneath the covers to press his cheek against his chest, like it was his own personal reward for a job well done.

Tenna’s voice above him, calm and soothing, lulling him to sleep with…

…

…

…

‘How long have you been like this? A couple months? Years?’

‘Damn it, Spamton! Give me ideas! Or something to work with! I can't think of all of this by myself!’

…

…

He wasn't going to… think… about the incident.

…

Why was it the only thing on his mind?

…

‘...You're so… different now.’

I couldn't… help it.

I couldn't stop it.

…

After his pleas to no one who would hear, the dialtone echoing in his head like a rattling engulfing thing, he'd fallen silent, as if expecting an answer that wouldn't follow.

…

The room fell silent too, even the sounds of cars outside his cyber city room window seemed to mute themselves. The dialtone ending in a click, and Spamton had held the phone and watched it, stationary, as the sound of him inputting the numbers reverberated in his head, as if he was repeating the action of dialing the number again without moving. He waited, his breath shallow, as that dialtone sounded again.

…

Calm breath disappeared. The warmth had whittled away into but a breeze at his fingertips. His body had moved away from the source of comfort and grounding.

…

Then it started off small, at first. 

It was the… unusual way the pixels of his body began to subtly glitch and act out of turn on his opposite hand, which he held out in front of him. He held it upturned as he stared, puzzled and frightened, at his palm. 

A dimming addison glow made the pixels burn like stardust as they climbed his arm. He'd never glitched before. This was new. This was something that addisons definitely didn't do, even with all their numerous sales quirks, or if they did, they'd be fine with a diagnosis and a couple anti-virus treatments and everything was fine. But… what was happening now…

It felt like his arm was coming apart on itself, and his code felt like it was being warped and contorted, not burning but rather a worse sensation, of being rearranged, of being mangled. As soon as it had amped up, Spamton desperately wanted it to stop.

It felt like someone was tinkering, no, manhandling his very being and getting their limbs stuck in the crevices of what made him him, like he was an overcomplicated network and whoever could manipulate just a few commands in it could alter how he felt or how he thought. There were no words that could describe having strands of his very self be gnarled and tangled, as if they were restringing wires to what could barely constitute a soul.

He'd forgotten when exactly he dropped the phone in the panic.

He tried backing away from the glitching abomination of himself, knocking items haphazardly off his desk in an accidental frenzy as he let out a cry that was far too bitcrushed to register something coming out of an addison. As if whatever was doing this had the same thought, something tightened exponentially around Spamton’s throat, choking the sound away before it could be prolonged. He reached to his neck first, as if to manically dig his fingertips underneath strings that weren't there but he'd definitely continued to feel them. He pressed the tips of his fingers against his skin, trying to get them under the nonexistent cords, but to no avail, as all he was doing was making his panic set in worse.

His jaw had then clamped shut against his will, lips tightly closed, and his hands flew up to that instead, trying to free his face by opening back up his mouth. He needed to make a sound, ANY sound, but as much as he gripped his chin and tried pulling it down, it hadn't budged. Tears spilled out from the corners of his eyes, even if he half expected they'd get stopped too. The anguish and relentless torture continued, and Spamton began to stumble towards the door out of his room with all the speed he could muster.

Maybe he could find someone, signal that he needed help, until the rampant glitching took his legs too and sent him careening down onto his knees.

His eyes were wide, his heart nothing more than a thundering, fragmenting, disobeying object with too much love in it for someone that had just betrayed him. The strings forced Spamton to choke on his own silence as he continued to disassemble right in front of himself. 

There was no processing what was happening, not at this moment, even if he knew the direct causation for this turn of events. He'd known his benefactor could make things happen on a whim, whether it be a stage light tuned onto a specific camera’s location, or a series of clicks coming in following an obscure product, but a direct major coding malfunction was leaps and bounds beyond what his mind could comprehend. And he didn't have to physically be in their shared space– but it could be accomplished and carried out nonetheless. Such was the existence of a darkner at the mercy of a higher power.

In the moment, the salesman thought to pray for death, but that'd be too easy for him in light of disobeying his instructions. He wasn't getting death as a turnout, no matter how he'd spin it. Breaking this contract meant consequences, and he'd be present for every second of the numbers being at zero.

He needed to get up, and get up he did, on now… oddly shaped, jointed hands. Hands that had not looked like they did a second ago. Wobbling and swaying with every desecrating glitch, his convulsing pixels making it near impossible to regain his footing in the first place, it wasn't long before the distortions knocked him off of his feet again in a similar fashion. 

There was no voice to guide him through this. There wouldn't be a voice again. His connection was a simple force, and the last words wouldn't be elaborated on- not even to taunt him with his disobedience. No, it would be too merciful to know someone was there, even if it was someone that actively harmed him. 

Spamton would be alone for this.

His face- he needed to free his face. If Spamton could scream, just once, maybe someone would come rushing in and help him with what was happening to him. They'd have the best ambyu-lances on call and could revert the damage already done by whatever this was. When he had ran back into the mansion from the studio through the door by the color cafe, Tenna a faraway thought in his mind, swatchlings had seen him sprint this way in a panic. Surely there was someone who'd care he'd gone in this direction–?!

The distortions had traveled to his head, and he felt his body jolt and writhe in that horrible, discordant lack of control. His code was a mess, a discombobulated haze of chaos and pixels as it struggled to take a form it could understand, or rather what it was being conducted to form as. For Spamton on the receiving end and built of it, this was an agony that had him suffering at every millisecond, confused and in white-hot pain. The glitching was too much; he needed to scream. He needed to find a break, somehow get his fingers over the teeth of his bottom jaw in order to pry it open against whatever kept it closed, to fight against the control he'd never have of himself. 

A twitching glitch ran across his face, making it come apart, and the pain exploded, which made his skin seize in agony and his eyes close tight, but there was that opening at his mouth with the rearranging pixels he wanted, and he was able to get that unfamiliar hand wedged between his teeth and curled his fingers around the bottom row. He didn't feel a tongue anymore. Maybe that was just his thoughts fooling him. There had to be one there–

It doesn't matter right now. He needed to call for help. This was too much–!

Trying to pry his mouth open was a challenge in and of itself with how disorderly the glitching was, as he couldn't keep upright without pitiful attempts to stabilize himself with his free hand. 

Through desperation, he was able to gain some balance against the influx of visual distortions racking his body around and was able to get his other hand into his mouth, then clamped it down on his bottom teeth as well. 

Finally! Oh god, someone please help me!

He needed to scream, he needed to do something-!

Yanking his bottom jaw down with all his might, he-

“.......ton!.....Are you with me?!”

He froze.

Someone was with him in his room, a darkner’s voice, cutting through the dialtone that remained present in his hearing. The hissing static still claimed his eyesight, however, as the glitching was consistently taking up his head. There was a tight pressure on his shoulders and for a bit, he thought the strings had wrapped around them ten fold, binding his body so he couldn't move. To his horror, the strings had shaken him, albeit slightly, but enough to cause his breathing to accelerate. His hands were no longer at his jaw; he'd lost his grip. Panicked at the thought, he fought against them, and they grew tighter. Whoever was holding these strings was exceptionally strong. 

“Hey...! Hey, please calm down! It's just me…!”

There it was again–

…

Tenna. Tenna! He came back!

He came for me! He followed me! Oh thank [Heaven], he's here! 

Tenna, you have to help me! Something’s wrong with me! You have to make this stop! I don't know what it is! I think it's him. But I can't see or hear him! 

“Spamton, do you hear me?”

Right. I can't call for help. Why can't I call for help?

Spamton nodded once and he felt the tension in his tied shoulders relax.

“Okay… good. Still need to get rid of that static. How do you normally get rid of it?”

…

…

…

Static?

The idea of being in his cyber city room fizzled away before his eyes, and he focused in on Tenna’s voice. No, something was definitely wrong with him, but something had been wrong with him for quite a while now. 

…

…

[Heaven], don't say I did what I think I did. 

Tenna, I didn't mean to…!

Shattered glass, broken parts, Tenna’s face in pieces. He lay unresponsive below him, and his chest was still and unmoving. He stared at it, the figurine clenched in both hands then his eyes flickered down to those hands that weren't his, holding the statue. There were bits of glass in between puppet-like joints. How long had these been his hands?! What had he done?!

That's not what happened.

It feels like that's what happened.

You're still alive. I didn't go through with it.

Because he's here with me right now. But this dressing room looks different. 

If I'm not in the mansion anymore… then…

…

“Ttt[[Get $10 Off at Checkout]]- [Prices and Participation may vary].”

I can still speak. Now, at least. What's wrong with my voice?

I know that answer already. I know that answer. I don't want to get lost in my head.

“Y-yup! That's… me! Quite the, umm, nightmare, right? Don't worry. I get them sometimes too.”

You never came to get me.

…

That's right.

This… this is a nightmare.

I'm getting confused.

He shook his head violently, trying to ward off the static, and the strings’ pressure around his shoulders eased.

As soon as the hold on his shoulders disappeared, Spamton scrambled to his feet, and whatever he stood on was cushioned and gave under him with every step, making his balance rocky. He shook his head as he backed up, trying to ignore how thick the static was in his glasses, and ran his hands from his forehead through his hair, his mind feeling muggy and too full of thoughts and memories and things that have been said and things that have been done. 

Spamton then clonked himself on the side of the head with the ball of his wrist. Immediately, the strings- no. There was a hold on his wrist, preventing him from resisting the static.

“Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!”

“..,WELL HOW [elsewhere] AM I GOING TO GET MYSELF [[back in stock]]? IT’S WHAT’S MOST [[Effective in a pinch]].”

“Maybe there's something else we can do!?” 

“FOR [[Heaven]]’S SAKE, pl34S$E    >LET ME GET [back to working order] BACK [In tip-top shape] AND THEN WE’LL TALK.”

There was obvious hesitation and reluctance from the darkner with him, but the pressure on his wrist did eventually disappear and Spamton gave a couple hardy ‘thwacks’ to the side of his temple.

Sure enough, the static short-circuited, the sight of Tenna staring at him popping up when he made harsh contact with the side of his head. Pink and yellow hue bled out the static, and Spamton leaned backward against the headboard, laying an arm over it as he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. He groaned, a soft bitcrushed sound, and rubbed his forehead, where the irritation pulsed as the static event subsided. 

…

…That one was a bad one. 

It's been a while since I thought… of that.

“Spamton…? Are you okay?”

Tenna's words came out full of concern and worry, making Spamton feel the first onslaught of shame.

“Y3aH…! NO THIS HAPPENS [Every Monday at 7:30]- THIS. HAPPENS. DON’T [[worried about the financial climate?]] ABOUT IT. IT'S JUST [serve it Rare] THAT I HAVE AN AUDIENCE.” Spamton put his opposite hand on his hip and looked over at Tenna, who was sitting upright and staring at him sadly. 

He hated that look. Pure pity, straight from the source. An endless stream from the spout. Bottled, labeled, sealed, packaged. All for him, like a personal congratulatory gift given to him by fate for his defiance and willingness to love and to feel. Who'd knew his heart would sink getting a gift basket with all the wrong items in it?

“...WHAT A [Wakeup Call], RIGHT??”

“You didn't wake me, I was already awake. Kind of. Then you umm… you sat up and that started. I didn't know what to do. I tried talking to you, but I forgot I had put myself on mute.”

Spamton’s beaming smile faltered.

The subtle memory of nuzzling his nose into the crook of Tenna’s neck as he held him from behind.

His face darkened as it turned red, albeit briefly.

So he was awake.

And I ruined that too.

“IT’S FINE. NOT YOUR FAULT. YOU DID [[Decent turnout today, folks]]. I KNOW. IT’S NOT THE BEST [[Alarm Clock Settings]] YOU COULD HAVE ASKED FOR!!  YOU HAVE TO [[given]] ME MORE ID3-;a$S FOR MY [[get a quote for built-in alarm systems]] OR ELSE YOU’LL BE WAKING UP TO THIS [Shitshow] EVERY DAY! EAHAHAHA!”

Tenna looked stunned he was even laughing. He legitimately looked at a loss for words.

Could that be what caused it? I really hope not. But it makes sense. Look where getting close to him got me last time. 

There was a silence shared between the two of them, as they both seemingly looked for something to dispel the sudden awkwardness that overtook the conversation. He wanted to apologize for his head ruining things with the episode, or did ‘ruining things’ precede that with him wanting to take advantage of the radiating warmth coming off the TV darkner? His thoughts raced. He had to think of something.

“...Did you want to talk?”

“YOU’D BE DOING [yorself] AND ME A [Favor] BY LETTING ME FORGET IT.”

Tenna didn't respond, and his antennas drooped over his face. Spamton needed the spotlight off of him, he needed the events from a couple minutes ago to go away.

“...SO [[Hot Shot]]!! GREAT [output] ON YOUR [[Save some $$$ on your Heating Bill this Winter]]. EVEN AFTER ALL THAT, I HAVEN'T HAD A BETTER [night’s sleep] IN A MINUTE."

Tenna looked surprised at first, then almost defeated. “Well, you seemed to abandon your other sleeping arrangements. So I guess that's worth something...!”

He glanced at the nest of blankets Spamton had abandoned at the far side of the bed and Spamton shared his glance, teeth clenching in a tinge of embarrassment. 

“THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH [electric hand warmers] I CAN [[Generate]] ON MY OWN. LUCKY FOR ME, YOU’RE LIKE A GOD DAMN [Breaker Box]. IT’S NICE.”

“...It's not often I get fan mail nowadays. And now the first thing in the morning?” Tenna chuckled at his own bad attempt at a joke.

Spamton smiled in return, sliding down the headboard sloppily to seat himself on the pillows below. 

“...So what was that? I know you don't want to talk about it, but can I at least know what that was?”

Fine. I owe him that.

“IT’S MY HEAD. TRIES TO MAKE ME [Think] OF [[Specil Scrapbooking Moments]]. THERE’S LOTS OF [Bugs in your software] AND IT’S [a mess]. IT’S NOT [impassible] TO MANAGE, THOUGH. JUST… ANNOYING.”

It means a lot that you talked me out of it. Thank you. I didn't want to relive more than I had to. 

His head glitched out and he cursed underneath his breath, holding his forehead in his hand before it passed and he slicked back his hair as smoothly as he could. Tenna looked like he wanted to say something, or ask something, but Spamton was quick to beat him to it.

“SO MR. [[Rolling in Reviews]], WHAT'S ON THE AGENDA?”

Tenna fumbled over what could have been words that died in his throat, before Spamton could practically see thoughts form behind that screen that he was going to let them both forget what had just happened. “You know, I’d hope we could catch up today. Just… calmly. From all the dramatics. Like our own private intermission, now that you're here. We could spend the day doing that?”

“YOU DON’T HAVE [Anything else] TO WORRY ABOUT? WHAT ABOUT YOUR [[$&#%tY]] [As Seen behind the Scenes]   CREW?? ?”

Tenna’s brow knit together and he slumped, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“...It's complicated. Heh. Heheheh, like everything is, I guess!” Tenna gestured with his hands as he talked. “I sort of got invited to the cafe, I think tonight? It's nothing. A few of my employees are performing and wanted me to be there for… I don't really know why. Maybe they just want to see me out and about more. It's still so weird! Because I never got much invited to things back home. I know they're just trying to be friendly because of what happened with the knight...”

Spamton narrowed his eyes.

“They're really sticking their necks out for me.” Tenna fiddled with his hands and his size decreased more, until he was about the size of Spamton himself. “It's not like they still hate me. Even if I feel they probably do. In some ways. But you are my main priority today so-”

Spamton scoffed. “[Hating this Seasonal Lineup] YOU?? OH YOU’RE PULLING MY [[limbs off]]! YOU ?! YOU’RE      [Favorit types of icescream]!! THEY LOVE YOU! DON’T YOU HEAR THE [roaming] APPLAUSE EVEryTIME YOU ENTERED A DAMN ROOM?? DON’T THINK I DON’T REMEMBER THAT, [Cathode].”

“Heh. Yeah, it really used to be like that, didn't it?” A weak chuckle from Tenna took more inches off his height from him. 

“LET ME GUESS. NOT LIKE THAT [enymore]? WHAT? THEY DECIDED TO [[mutinize]] ON YOU OR WHAT?”

“Well, after you left, they saw a side of me I wasn't proud of. Just… unloading it all onto them because they were there! Hahaha! Isn't that funny? The charming, charismatic gameshow host the lightners built up…! The whole personality under the lights! It was all just that! For show.”

Tenna stopped and hesitated, as if he was leaving a lot more unsaid.

At least you still had control over them. I tried for years to get any semblance of control I had back. I wasn't able to. It was another failure for the books.

“...But you know? It's not like I had many options. You were just suddenly gone!” Tenna’s height significantly increased on a dime and Spamton quickly shuffled back to give him the space. “I had to do everything! I had to make all the decisions, and also keep THEM in line! Make sure they were actually doing their job to keep us ALL on air so we wouldn't get unplugged!”

Tenna stared off blankly ahead of him, hands raised mid-gesture before rapidly shrinking again. “All while wondering where you were. They all could move on, stay relevant, but I was the only one there who couldn't. And I made them… suffer for it.” Tenna sighed, shrinking down even more and crossing his arms over his midsection. “Sorry. It's not important. It's just Susie saw so much in me and I feel like a… like…”

“LIKE A FRAUD?”

Tenna hesitated, and Spamton smiled wide as he looked down at the smaller television darkner, who was probably less than half the puppet’s size at this point.

“WOW!! DOESN’T THIS [Club Members Only Access] JUST GET [Better &Bettrr]?? FE3Li1nG LIKE A [[Victim of Fraud]] IS ONLY [Step 1 of a few short steps] AND THEN IT ONLY GETS BETTER FROM THERE!! NO [Friends], NO WORRIES!! THINK OF IT!! LESS [[Employee appreciashun cards]] TO SCRIBBLE OVER!!”

Tenna stayed quiet and Spamton could see his frown knit together in a tight grimace.

“H;hEY IF I WERE YOU, THOSE [[rotten slimes]] WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE THEIR LEGS TO STAND ON. I’D [decimation in 10- 9- 8-] WITH [[The smooth taste of]] [With no extra charge]!!! YOU DON’T NEED [Friends] WHEN YOU HAVE [A full set of waxturizers], NOW DO YOU?? LIKE YOU SAID. THEY ABANDONED YOU. WHY BE THERE FOR THEM?”

“...They still bothered to stick around and fix me. Despite how awful I was to them. Do you think they'd leave me there to die if Susie wasn't there to convince them?”

Spamton’s jaw clamped shut with a sharp ‘clack'.

…

Yes. 

They would have left you to die. In most cases they do. At least from my experience.

…

“...Sometimes I think they would. That's why they're being nice now. They didn't have to help me but they did.”

…

The puppet didn't have much of a frame of reference to compare being fixed to, especially with something as brutal as the knight’s entrance had been. But…

He'd awoken strung up just as he had been before, in his familiar more puppet-like form, as if the lightners had made the connection all too late that it was being suspended that kept him alive and mobile as he was. Perhaps in a desperate attempt to wake him back up, they tried re-stringing him up after Neo’s power ebbed away from him while he was unconscious, and used the basement’s vines to accomplish this. 

It was at that moment that he'd pieced together his new purpose, his new reason for living, in the absence of everything he once knew. However, they could have left him behind in that pitiful state until the fountain closed. Until he'd finally gotten the nonexistence he'd prayed would never come but was always somehow on the horizon. It was their kindness and understanding in his mania that offered him this redemption. Dismal, aching redemption.

Yes, he'd been abandoned entirely, but by those who didn't exist. His friends though had set him free in a sense without sense. A falsified freedom, but one he could comprehend at its most basic level. Forever in the dark, but of use and influence for something greater. 

His second chance. It meant nothing. But without it, he wouldn't be here with Tenna. 

“...mAYBE [Reconsider your options]. YOU SHOULD [[Accept Invitation? RSVP On our website]].”

Tenna looked up at him, puzzled. “You're saying I should?”

“THEY MEAN. SOMETHING. TO YOU. RIGHT?”

I can't BELIEVE I’m saying this.

Tenna nodded. “I know they shouldn't. But I really want them to know I feel horrible for how I treated them.”

“THEN [Voice that opinion], BUSTER!! YOU DON’T NEED A MOTIVATOR OF [Cold Hard Cash] TO DO IT! YOU GOT THE [Looks], YOU GOT THE [[Title Cards]], YOU GOT THE [teleprompter up and running]!! YOU WANT TO BE BACK ON A GOOD [Playing field]! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?? A COUPLE [[Hours of Runtime]]???  ??”

Tenna didn't respond and gripped his midsection tighter. 

“YOU KNOW [Y] I SAY THAT?? BECAUSE YOU CAN. YOU HAVE THAT [[Full dead to rights]] [Public Speaking] PACKIG. I KNOW, EVEN IF I WANTED [[2 for $20]] TO SEE THOSE [Traitors] [[In Sales]] AGAIN, I COULDN’T. I CAN’T EVEN [strings] THEM ALONG FOR A SIMPLE [email subscription].”

“What? You're talking about the addisons, right?”

“NO. YES??!” Spamton grumbled and got off the bed in a huff. “BEING [Honist] WITH YOU IS ALREADY [[Burning a hole in my       ]] [@$$]!! YES. MAYBE I AM.”

“Well, you know from what I got from our conversation yesterday, it seems like they miss you.”

“OH PLEASE. [[Spared]] ME THAT SACK OF [[$&#%]]. THOSE [[Traitorous snobs]] ARE FAKER THAN [We vote with our constituents every time]!!    DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT. I’M SAYING YOU CAN REUNITE WITH YOUR [work arsenal],  SO YOU SHOULD [[A good boss tries to connect with their workforce]]!!! THAT’S IT!!”

Spamton angrily removed the t-shirt and exchanged it for the black blazer on the floor, in a desperate attempt to do anything with his hands to maybe calm his rising hostility towards the TV darkner.

Redirecting his gaze back towards Tenna, who sat on the edge of the bed, Spamton noticed he was at the smallest he'd seen him since when he was the dealmaker.

“I… no. Okay. I want to. I want to reconnect with my former employees. But I feel I’m a little late. They're going to get tired of being nice eventually.”

“THEN [[Milk them]] FOR EVERYTHING THEY HAVE NOW. [Plane tickets discounted] AND SIMPLE.”

“...I wish you could come with me.”

“[Cathode], I [Access Denied]. [[Birds be the word]] DON’T CARE FOR [Banned Patrons]. YOU SAW WHAT HAPPENED. THAT WAS THE [lightly salted] TRE4tMeNT. BESIDES, I LOOK LIKE [[Clearence Aisle Warez]]!! PERFECT FOR [rotting at the bottom of a], NOT FOR GOING OUT IN [[Estabishmints]].”

“And if I, alone, went to the addisons to pick you up a new outfit for you? Would that change anything?”

“THEY’RE GOING TO WONDER WHY YOU’RE [[Thank you for your purchase]] [Size:S] CLOTHES.”

“Well then I’ll just let them know I'm diversifying my outfits. It'll be easy! After all, after yesterday, not to brag, but I have them wrapped all around my finger.”

“DON’T REMIND ME.” Spamton put his hands on his hips. “YOU [[owe]] ME THE [priviledg] TO PUT SOME [Nasty one-liners] IN EACH OF THEIR CONTRACTS WHEN YOU DO GET TO DRAW THEM UP. REALLY [Drill & draft] SOME [Red Flag Clauses]. COns1d;3R     THIS A [[Big Shot]] TAX.”

Tenna snorted in amusement and he grew gradually at the shift in conversation. “I wouldn't expect less from you. What are we thinking? Airing their ads back to back? Higher CPM cost on each addison? Reduced ad slots due to network ‘complications’?”

“I WAS [Thinking] MORE ON THE [Budget Line] OF HIDDEN FEES.”

“Depends how smart your former friends are. Or how many extra costs we could cram in there before they ask for anything itemized.”

“NO, NO. YOU’RE [[Right on the $$$!!]].” Spamton pondered, pressing his hands together and pressing his fingers against his teeth. “YOU KNOW WHAT THEY’LL [[Hate it more than anything]]??”

“Hmm?”

“[Double booking! Sorry, we'll have to reschedule] THEIR AD PLACEMENTS. THEY’Ll be SO BUSY AT EACHOTHER’S [[throats]], THEY WON’T EVEN [[Pointed Fingers At]] YOU. I MEAN, YOU SAW HOW THEY WERE. THEY SAY THEY’RE A [Team effort], BUT THEY KEEP [stepping on] EACH OTHER'S FEET. EAHAHAHA! [[Makegood clauses]]??? SINCE WHEN? THOSE [Jelis] [[Slimes]] ALWAYS LET THEIR [drawing conclusions] GET IN THE WAY OF THEIR [$#%#] ALL THE TIME.  THEY’LL [leaps and bounds] TO FAVORITISM SO FAST THEY’LL ALL [[died]]! AND WHAT A SIGHT THAT’LL BE!”

Tenna chuckled but then his joy dwindled down into a look of… confusion. 

“WHAT? TOO [Far Reaches]?”

What? Oh don't tell me you think that's too far.

“No! No, I don't doubt it. But… It's funny. I don't remember telling you about my deal with the addisons.”

…Oh shit. 

That's right.

Spamton's smile twitched and he became unusually still.

“HhH;3Y WHO DOESN’T >>>[Infer] AB0uT [[contracht s]] WITH [business rivals] NOW AND AGAIN, RIGHT? IT MAY BE A [passing thought] OR TWo!!”

“You were there…” Tenna rose from the bed. “Weren't you?”

“DID YOU [See me in the stands]?? I COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE! C’MON, [[Ray tubes]]-”

“Don't lie. We’re not lying to each other anymore.”

Spamton hesitated and gestured outward with his hands. “OKAY. OKAY, I’Ll tell YOU. YOU REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NOT [[Most Hated Film of the Summer]] ME?”

“Of course. I still don't. I don't ever think I could.”

“WELL [Hold onto those socks]- HOLD ON TO [That thought] BECAUSE YOUR [[assets]] IS GOING TO BE BLOWN [Spring Clean] OFF!” Spamton tapped at his glasses. “MY NEW PURPOSE IN THIS [Hey, who turned off the lights?!] H3;l LhoLE!!”

“Your… glasses. Are your purpose.” Tenna raised a finger in confusion, and he looked like he had a million-and-one follow up questions, but not the patience to wait for them.

“WRONG! ITS MY [lifeline] JOB FOR THE L1ghtn3r  S afTER THEY [[Cut me down]]!! WITHOUT THESE [Bad Boys] I’D BE A [Broken Toy]! I’D BE [[all strung up]]!! THEY’RE MY [Expert Services]. THEY’RE ALL I HAVE TO [Give].”

“I don't follow. Now it's your job? Also ‘cut you down’? Is that more puppet humor?”

“NO. MORE [Costs of Littering]. [Lit]-    [Literal] THAN THAT.”

Tenna frowned and rubbed him arm, his brow creasing as he now looked visibly distressed. “I’m trying to get it, Spamton! I am. I just don't understand what you're trying to say here.”

Spamton’s smile dropped and he scowled, rolling his eyes. “THEN LET ME [[Pull up the slideshow presentation]]!! HERE, HOLD THESE.” 

He took off his glasses and put them forcibly in Tenna’s hands, the television darkner taking them as startled as he could be. The puppet squinted at first but then closed his eyes, focusing on the matter of his code and how he could make it deconstruct, transferring it line by coded line into the object nestled securely (but nervously) in Tenna’s hands. His very being compressed in a nice pink-and-yellow package.

It's as much control as he could ever have.

Forces outside of him would forever have access to the rest.

And he opened his eyes with the sight of the multicolored lenses, he saw Tenna above him staring ahead, sweat visibly appearing on his temple. The now much larger darkner’s hands felt tense around him and Spamton could tell he was slightly shaking.

“...Spamton?” His tone pitched up, as if he was not expecting his to disappear of all things. “Neat magic trick, but you can come back now-”

“DOWN HERE, [[Dust Magnet]].”

Tenna's screen flickered and brightened as he redirected his surprised gaze downward. As soon as they had eye-contact (as much as two beings without eyes could), only then did Spamton carry on with his presentation.

“TADAAA!!! MEET MY [New and Improved]          !!!! [[Ord3r 0f Operatins]]!! SPAMTON G.               [Spampton] COMING [[Straight from yor]] 37/48    INVENTORY!!” If he could smile, he'd be beaming proudly, with jazz hands to match. “SURE, IT ISN’T MY [[Beach Summer Fun Bod]] BUT IT’S CLOSE ENOUGH IN PURPOSE. WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

The CRT looked dumbfounded, his brow crumpled in a mix of emotions. There was confusion, sure, but traces of fear were also in there. 

Why does he look like that?

“I think you just turned yourself into a pair of glasses.”

“[[Holy Toledo]], YOU DAMN [Box Head]! YOU FIGURED IT OUT! I WOULD HAVE [Never had the chance to collect those coupons] IF YOU HADN’T TOLD ME. YUP! MY NEW [Segund chance] AS A [Framing styles]–”

“These were you,” Tenna said, a little bite to his words. “How…? I mean, it's obvious you’re a crafty little thing, but how?” 

Well, that's not the reaction I was expecting.

“SIMPLE. [Four] ME AT LEAST. [Electronic mailing] COMB1nED WITH      [[Hyperlink_Blocked]]. VERY [Similar Tastes] TO HOW I GOT MY [Upgrading Your Look] DONE [[Against My Will]], BUT NOT QUITE!! EAHAHAHA!”

No response from Tenna.

“HAHA..HAHA34hahHA… OKAY l1GHTeN UP, [Tubular Mode]! THIS ISN’T AS [Bad] AS IT LOOKS!”

“Not as bad as it looks?” Tenna’s voice trembled.

Uh oh.

“YES?? [not in this house] AS BAD AS IT LOOKS. DON’T MAKE ME [Repeat it]!”

“You watched and waited until I fell asleep to try and do what you did. You watched as I looked for you everywhere. Do you know how upset I was seeing you left–?! No, wait! You did! You were these damn glasses. You–” Tenna’s face fell in realization and he grit his teeth. “You were with the lightners! You were on my show with them! You saw… you saw everything…!”

Okay maybe this is as bad as it looks.

“I can't believe you! It's like an entire WEB of lies, one on top of the other! How many more do you have!? How many more lies do I have to comb through to get to the truth? Is there even a truth at this point?!”

So much more than you know or ever will know.

As Tenna gripped the glasses he looked off to the side, obviously irritated and baffled by this newfound information, his height climbing by a couple of feet as he seemed to inwardly seethe. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry. I know you told me about how much I don't know. I told you I'd try to understand. It's just frustrating...! You let me fall for so damn much.”

He was holding his frames awfully tight.

“[[Easy Tiger]]!  I’M [[moldable]!! EASY TO [Snapped] LIKE A [Toothpick]! SO BE CAREFUL WITH THE [Costuming]!”

“Turn back before I break you then.”

Spamton knew he wouldn't intentionally, it was an empty threat, but the expression on his face made the dealmaker feel like he definitely could by accident. The last thing the two needed was a repeated incident from the night before and the last way Spamton wanted to go was as his glasses.

Quickly reforming, taking the instruction more as a warning, Spamton’s code reassembled into his familiarly unfamiliar puppet-like body, and he stood on Tenna’s hands, each foot secure in the taller darkner’s corresponding palms. 

One he was fully back, all reassembled and such, Tenna stared at him, brow furrowed as he tapped his foot.

“Welcome back.” Tenna said with clenched, sharpened fangs. “Alright, start explaining. Now.”

Here goes nothing, then.

“I WAS [New Recruits] BY THEM. THEY-” Spamton balled his fists at his sides. “THEY. HELPED. ME. I WANT TO [[Tell it like it is]] YOU [Everything ½ Off while Prices Last]. NO MORE LIES.”

He took a deep breath in. “BECAUSE THIS IS [Where it ends] FOR ME. THIS IS WHAT [[#1RatedSalesman1997]]   [Enter:Amount(s)] TO NOW. THIS IS ALL I’LL EVER BE. I’M [stuck between a %#$% and a]- I’M. STUCK. LIKE. THIS. FOR THE [Remaining Days] OF MY LIFE. SO THE [Dealmaker] IT WAS, BECAUSE AT LEAST I CAN [Provide Financial Aid] TO KRIS AND THEIR [Recommend a Friend(s)] WHERE THEY NEED ME. IT’S NOT WHAT I WAS [[praying]] FOR BUT [it pays the bills].”

“You turned yourself into their inventory item to help them? As a way to get out of the mess you made?”

“AS A WAY OF [[Repayment]], ACTUALLY. I KNOW. HARD TO BELIEVE COMING FROM ME, BUT IT'S THE [Truth]. I SETTLED MY [Dues]. THEY [Shoede] ME [[Mercy]] AT MY       LOWEST. WHEN I WAS A    [Million dollars in debt]. DOESN’T THAT SOUND [Familiar Faces] TO ANOTHER [Character] IN THE [Story]?”

Tenna’s lip twitched and he scrunched his nose, looking at Spamton in a dawning resurgence of distress.

“THAT’S RIGHT! IF YOU GUESSED [Cantankerous Cathodes] YOU’D BE [Corrrect]! BUT INSTEAD OF h4V1>nGG   t;Tt0   [[Died forever]], YOU GET A [Retirement Party] AND EVERYONE TO [Sing Kumbaya] AND MAYBE EVEN A NEW [[Loving Home]]    WH1l3   [Your Ol Pal]  gg;3T###s$        T2O [[Malfunction Detected]] AND [Insurance Plans for Ocular Prescriptions]!!” Spamton stomped his foot.  “NO. IT’S NOT THE WORST [gig] ON THE [Market], BUT ITS [Less Than Half Portions] OF WHAT YOU GOT.”

So maybe I'm a little upset! You can understand why I'm a little upset, can't you?!

Tenna’s expression softened, looking almost guilty, yet it was obvious his anger still lingered. “I… didn't know. But you're helping them. That's… I mean, wow. It's quite a role!”

“YES. YOU CAN ONLY HAVE [[One and Onlee]]         . AND I DO THAT [[$&#%]] BETTER THAN ANYONE.”

“With your magic, right?”

“AND [[Investment Opportuniteyes]]. YOU’RE NEVER TOO [Young ‘un] TO LEARN HOW THE [[Stocks]] WORK. THEY NEED THE [Funds], I HAVE THE [Money Market schemes]. THAT’S WHY I WENT TO THAT [princely duties] BEFORE I WAS [[Interuption streak]] BY THE BIRDS.”

“I can see that, but then why didn't you go back?”

“I-” He stopped himself, glancing off to the side. “YOU [Talked] TO ME. REALLY PUT A [[Your plan doesn't cover the dent]] IN MY PLAN.”

“Still, specially recruited by the lightners! By Kris… they must really like you.” Tenna’s screen brightened, then dimmed in concern. “But then why are you here?”

“I FELL OUT. OR THEY [[Drop Off At These Specific Sites]] OUT OF KRIS’S [Inventorium]. I’M [[Stranded on a deserted island]] UNTIL THEY COME BACK.” Spamton gestured out with his hands, his fingers curled.

“Maybe they’re working on something for you.” Tenna said slowly, and Spamton loathed how his tone was practically dripping with hope, as it always was and had been. “Maybe, even if you're a bit buggier than what you used to be-”

“GEE. THANKS.” Spamton mumbled sarcastically, not liking this shift in direction.

“I’m getting to my point. I'm just saying, maybe there's a plan for you. Maybe they’re working to fix what happened to you–”

“STOP.”

Tenna stopped.

“YOU DON’T [[Get the picture]] YET, DO YOU? THEY CAN’T! NO ONE CAN!” Spamton snapped.  “THIS IS DIFFERENT THAN A [[Flyback Transformer]] REPLACEMENT OR Aa;    A    [Burned in Screen]!! HE [[Edit → Program]] ME!! I CAN’T GO BACK! I’Ve BEEN [[A little look inside Office Life]]!! ! HIS [[Communion Signatures]] ARE [Selected Items Not Found. Please Try Again.]     THE [any changes to the script?] ARE FINAL. Or… so I THOUGHT. BEFORE YOU [Survive for 3 days, Win a Free Car]–!!”

“Wait. Spamton, slow down! I'm having trouble understanding you when you're going so fast! Rewind a little. Who did?”

Spamton opened his mouth and growled when a series of scratching, discordant error sounds escaped him. Grumbling and stomping his foot, multiple times, he felt Tenna flinch underneath him as soon as the sounds were past his throat.

“Okay. Don't bother answering that. I can ask a different que-”

Spamton glared up at Tenna, his brow furrowed low in rage, then dug his heel into his palm, twisting his ankle while making fierce eye contact with his screen. The puppet nearly snarled with how predictable it was that he'd get cut off, but he wouldn't take this as it was.

Pay. Close. Attention. To me.

Tenna seemed to catch onto his message and cut himself off, screen brightening as he looked at the little glitchy darkner below in silence.

Raising his hand to the side of his head, Spamton folded his fingers into the vague shape of a phone, and gave it a very subtle shake.

Tenna stilled, catching on immediately.

“Your… benefactor... did that to you!?”

A wide smile stretched Spamton’s face. Gleeful, but stretched to its limit. Manic, unhinged, but victorious all the same.

Spamton wanted to confirm this, maybe with a nod, maybe with a congratulatory ad of approval or whatever the fuck would come out of his mouth.

Instead, his head erupted in a long-lasting glitch and Spamton gripped his hair, clawing through it and hunched in on himself, the pixels shifting in both size and shape. 

He wasn't sure how long it did last, a thought common among these worse ones, but when it eventually cut off in a flash, his vision spun, and dizziness followed. The familiar nausea after a particularly harsh glitch came back into focus and he grumbled, yanking on his hair at first and hoping it would go away.

“Spamton! Oh my god, Spamton, are you okay?!”

It didn't matter. It didn't matter. He got what he wanted out. Sure, it wasn't the most essential information, and he didn't dare attempt to add more context to the revelation, but it was something. He laughed off the glitch, the laugh coming out as bitcrushed and disorderly at first, but as soon as he regained his balance, lifting his head, he toppled backwards.

Only to be cushioned by Tenna’s palm beneath him, his legs dangling off of it.

“... DID IT… YOU HAVE NO [Clued in] HOW LONG I WANTED TO l3;TT SOMEONE ELSE KN0w.”

Haven't been permanently silenced yet. I can still talk. I can still think. I'm still able to think. I'm still able to form my own thoughts. Oh thank [Heaven], I think it's okay.

“I'm glad you told me or, no, was able to tell me. But-”

“HAHEAHA…! ME TOo. DON’T [Get more for what you pay] USED TO IT, ALRIGHT? YOU GOT [[Lucky Ducks]]. THAT DOESN’T [Happened] OFTEN.”

“Don't you dare do that again if it means you're going to short out like that! If we can avoid what happened earlier this morning, I’ll stop asking questions! Okay?!”

“[Comprede]. I READ YA [[Loudn’clear]]. DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE.”

"I'm sorry for thinking you could... or it was possible to...! Damn it!" Tenna bit his lip, seemingly reflecting on his comment earlier about the lightners. "I was just hoping for a different answer."

"I KNOW." Spamton replied, his eyes now downcast. "THERE USED TO BE A [Time stamps] WHEN I USED TO THINK IT WAS [[Plausible]] TOO."

Tenna was silent otherwise, and Spamton noticed he didn't look as relieved as the puppet was by that information being out in the open. In fact, he seemed to be contemplating something in depth by how his expression was twisted in despair. 

“ABOUT MY [Deals on Selected Frames]... IT WAS A M1s$tA  KE. KEEPING IT [[On the download]]. I SHOULD HAVE [Filled you in on Our Filing System] FROM MOMENT [Uno].”

“Yeah, no, that would have been helpful. Could have avoided a lot of what happened.” Tenna sighed. “But, on a brighter side, I may have thought of a way I could bring you around with me when I have to go out in castle town. Without you being targeted by more cyber darkners.”

Spamton smiled, relieved that Tenna was going this direction instead of still focusing on all that the puppet had left unanswered. 

“I MAY BE [[Picking up]] WHAT YOU’RE [Depositing into checking]. NOT EVERYONE GETS A [Under the guise of] AND GETS AWAY WITH IT.”

“So you'll go with me? If I decided to go to the cafe tonight?”

“YOU’VE BEEN [[Cooped]] UP IN HERE WITH ME FOR [A mighty minute]. BUT SURE, I’LL TAG ALONG!! BUT YOU STILL [Owe the $$ Upfront] ME SOME NEW [[Sweet duds]], CAPICHE?”

“That was the plan.” Tenna took a deep breath in and set Spamton down, where he stumbled off out of the hands that held him. “After all, what host would I be if I let you make a guest star reappearance without looking your best?”

Guest star reappearance…

Even with the words that were said, Tenna’s smile was just a bit too strained, his reaction a bit too forced. The revelation about the glasses, or maybe the puppet’s benefactor, had definitely impacted him for the worst. 

How much longer would this last?

Spamton warned him.

You won't like me once you find out what I'm like. I don't want to lose you all over again.

"If it'll help? I want to do anything I can."

And that's the problem.

"WHY NOT?? MAYBE WE NEED A LITTLE [[Ride Around Town]]."

Chapter Text

As for the remainder of the morning, Tenna found distraction in preparing a simple breakfast for him and Spamton after getting himself dressed. The little salesman didn't appear to be making much conversation after all of that, leaving Tenna with a perfect opportunity to take a bit of direction where he could in light of all the answers out of his control. The reason for Spamton’s silence needed no explanation, with the amount he'd been shorting out already, combined with his last glitching attack after…

...managing to let him know about his benefactor. Despite the immediate consequences. 

…

The memory… stung. More than the CRT could ideally describe in accurate detail under pressure or on the spot. Maybe because it was so fresh.

It was like having stage fright with his own emotions, as he looked out at an empty theater, save for the puppet staring back from the front row.

And he had no idea what to do.

Tenna let his hands do most of the work for him as his mind wandered, entrenched in thoughts to the point where he'd put energy away from projecting his face. The blank screen hummed with static and activity as he prepared individual plates of eggs and toast for both of them, giving Spamton the more generous of the portion difference, whether out of hospitality or pity.

Tenna was going with hospitality, and hoped to continue going with hospitality.

The coffee he brewed to hopefully wake them both up (physically, as mentally he couldn't have been more awake in the frazzled sense) had seemed like a good idea, but even with all the sugar and cream Tenna added to his own mug, he felt as if it would still end up tasting bitter in his mouth. Everything would for a while- that was just the nature of these more emotionally heavy things. Not all the sugar in the world could bury the events of his morning, much less the reality of his situation, but Tenna would at least let it try.

“Hey, Spamton?” Tenna piped up, his face flickering back into appearance. “About your coffee. Do you still take it the same way you used to?”

“...THAT’S A [silly diy ideas for you and your spouse], YOU [Tri-Color Display]! YOU SHOULD KNOW HOW I T4KE IT!” Spamton walked over where Tenna was preparing the mugs and snatched the one that the taller darkner hadn't added anything to from off the counter. “WITH MY HANDS!! PREFERABLY [Without payment]. THANK YOU FOR YOUR [Donation].” 

The brightness of Tenna's screen blinked in surprise.

That's not what I meant.

“Uh, that's…! Haha, that's not what I meant! I-”

Too late, Spamton had already started drinking it down as if it was his sole source of hydration, as he strutted proudly back to his spot at the table and plopped himself back in the chair. 

“HOLY [No Smoking Indoors], [[$10 Discount]]!! THIS IS SOME [[Do you expect High Quality?]] [#%$#]!! YOU HAVE THIS [personal hand-delivered parcels] BY SOME [Expert Vendor] LIGHTN;3rR OR WHAT??”

“I didn't know you preferred it just plain now. As-is!” Tenna sat himself down beside Spamton at the table with both plates in hand. “See? I'm already learning new things about you! Back then, you used to be so specific.”

“WHAT CAN I SAY [that hasn't been sayed alr3ady]?? I LIKE MY [morning order] AS LONG AS IT ISN’T [Tainted] WITH [[Easels]]’S STUPID [[Let us warm your day~]] LABEL ON IT.” Spamton narrowed his eyes, but it was a look that only lasted for a couple seconds at the longest and he shook his head, a light glitch just clipping the edges of his hair.

“ThinGS CHANGED  AFTER I COULDN’T FIND [1 in the morning] IN [Your apartment’s trash unit] THAT MET [[Protocol]] OF MY [Distinct Tastes]! YOU WON’T BELIEVE HOW MANY OF THOSE [[Wasfeful Slimes]] BUY A  [Lukewarm] [cup of that good stuff] JUST TO [[Chuck it]] AWAY WHEN THEY DON’T WANT IT ANYMORE. SAME GOES WITH THEIR [sweet eats].”

Spamton shrugged, gesturing with his mug by rolling his wrist, and cackled. “EAHAHAHAHA!   TOO BAD! [[More! More and more!]] 4 ME. AND I DIDN’T HAVE’TA [spend a dime]. SO WHO REALLY CAME OUT ON TOP?”

Oh.

Tenna’s face twisted in distress as he unwillingly visualized his former partner having to scrounge for any modicum of luxury that was so accessible before. Yesterday, before the encounter with the addisons, he wouldn't believe the validity of the image in his head for a millisecond, maybe counting a dumpster-diving white addison as a wacky pettiness-fueled fantasy, but now it was all too real to discount. Spamton continued to laugh, but his laughter ebbed away as he noticed Tenna’s dynamic shift in expression.

“EAHA;hA4haha…. HAHEA… JUST!! [Fool in commercial’s clothing] AROUND, [[HD TV]]! I PROMISE. THAT ISN’T LIKE YOUR [Recipe books]. THIS IS [preminum warez]! I DON’t even… rem3Mber… WHEN THE LAST TIME I [had something like just like the designer brand]–”

He raised his mug again to his face, but a glitch harshly fragmented his head, causing his arm to lock up and consequently spill a bit of coffee on the table. Spamton looked straight ahead right after it dissipated, as if in a momentary daze before realization set in. Tenna slumped, standing and silently retrieved a napkin from the kitchen.

“S0r–”

“Don't apologize. It's not your fault.” Tenna stated that more as a command than anything, as he dabbed up the spill in front of Spamton. After discarding the soiled napkin and returning to his spot, he noticed Spamton was taking small sips still from his coffee, being cautious to put the mug down after each sip and not leave it in his hands for too long.

There was a silence shared between the two, as Tenna thought of what to say after that. The image in his head was still so potent, of the fallen Big Shot, rummaging around the city’s limits, in discarded waste, like he was nothing more than some sewer rat. It was an uncharacteristically messed up parody.

It didn't fit him. 

“You can try mine if you like? It's probably a lot different than yours.”

“[Probabilitiy]? WITH AS MUCH SUGAR AS I SAW YOU PUT IN THERE? IT’S B4rEl;yY    [[Midnihgt Brews]] AT THIS POINT. BUT [Request Accepted].” 

Surprisingly, when he did end up trying the drink with far too much sugar and cream in it, he barely had a reaction, just a low pleasurable hum, as if it was just as good as his own with no notable difference. Tenna assumed he wasn't picky, or thought he couldn't afford to be anyway.

The two ate their breakfast in relative silence, Spamton finishing his portion a lot faster, as he had with the burger Tenna offered him the first night he was here, or the bagel from the previous morning. Rather, anything he ate, he ate with a sense of urgency, as if it could be taken away at any time. 

The television darkner’s heart ached, and he wanted to make Spamton’s new surroundings feel comfortable to him… but maybe that would come in time? Tenna wasn't exactly sure. This whole situation felt like something out of an… odd sitcom plot. Definitely something that should have been cancelled long before it aired, not noteworthy enough to entertain a greenlight committee. Who would want to watch something like this? Would it even make for good TV? Seeing someone once so triumphant and vibrant stoop to being an anxious, maddened… creature, for the lack of a better word. Who could find entertainment in that?

He wouldn't be a viewer if it was an option, that was for sure.

Tenna hated seeing the stars go out. 

He didn't know one of them would be his favorite star of all.

Not like this.

Spamton looked pleased enough anyway with the meal, smiling to himself. As the tension of the moment petered away into a more tranquil one, Tenna flashed the smaller darkner a warm smile, just to silently communicate to him that he really did like having him back. Still, there was no denying it was… different, sitting wordlessly with him while just enjoying his company.

“Hey, just asking, but do you want more? I can always make more. We’re far from being in limited supply.”

At that, Spamton’s eyes widened before his smile stretched across his face and he enthusiastically nodded. “[[Room for seconds]]?? COUNT ME IN! I HAVEN’T HEARD OF MANY [Hotels near hot Local attractions] THAT DO THAT WITHOUT [Added Expenses].”

“Lucky for you, this hotel does it for no extra charge.” Tenna attempted a light snicker, taking the opportunity to humor him. “Do you want jam on your toast this time?”

That seemed to be the right move, as Spamton ate his seconds of toast with jam and eggs with more care than frantic insistence to finish what he had. The added security, Tenna noted, may be helpful when the more concerning behaviors of the puppet showed up.

Tenna then gathered the finished dishes and brought them over to the sink, turning the water on.

Even with the calm the morning had turned into, he still couldn't shake the horrors that started it. There were reminders everywhere of the situation they had both found themselves in– and every glitch of the puppet seemed to wedge that realization in a little deeper each time.

…

...

Every single second he spent behind the phone.

Built up to this.

Tenna couldn't think about how, but did that matter when it had happened at all?

His brow pinched in contemplation, the CRT ran the coffee mugs underneath the water from the sink in the kitchen while slipping on some bright pink dishwashing gloves (courtesy of Lanino when the weather duo heard of him getting a room in the mansion). Now with the new, mindless activity, Tenna seemed to stew in the revelations of the morning as a whole.

It had started off… so well, too. He'd only woken up when hearing the gentle, barely audible snores right next to his neck and felt the puppet’s hands clench his shirt. Tenna would admit he was confused at first, thinking he was needed for something, but when catching on that Spamton was still fast asleep, it turned the alarm into that of blissful acceptance. 

Tenna had let a small, wobbly smile spread across his face as his screen took on a soft, vibrant glow. He silently wished to no one that was listening his size would stay where it was, as to not disturb his sleeping partner. For so long, he'd dreamt of being woken up like this; pressed against the only darkner in their shared worlds that would truly understand him.

Most of those mornings had ended up with silent tears and with him curled up as the size of a standard playing card, but today it had finally been different. He couldn't care about anything else, just the pure presence of his little mailman was enough to allow him to forget about the many mornings of the empty space beside his head as well as the rage-fueled solo broadcasts that followed the bleakness after he rose for another day.

All those nights wondering where he'd gone... now Tenna had the answers. And his mailman, as an added bonus.

However, something had to come between Tenna and that serene moment eventually. Spamton had stirred and his jaw hung open, a silent hissing drone of static escaping from the depths of his throat.

That caused panic to well up in Tenna, dread masking his features before Spamton had slowly sat himself up. Turning towards the smaller darkner, Tenna wilted when seeing his glasses were clouded in that same static that had eclipsed them earlier when he'd brought up trying to… call him.

Saying Spamton's name hadn't brought him back, not even when he made the realization that he couldn't be heard due to his mute feature which was quickly deactivated, nor did slightly jostling his arm to try and wake him up. What worked last time? It wasn't anything Tenna did, but rather a glitch that brought the monochrome snow back to color. The issue was, even with disorderly static, Spamton didn't have any antennas to adjust on his own to ward it away, and he was clearly mentally out of touch as well as physically. 

Then… his hands went to his bottom jaw, fingers wrapping around his teeth. He then started to subconsciously pull it down, and Tenna paled.

That was enough, the image horrifying in its own right, and Tenna acted accordingly, quickly securing a hold of Spamton’s wrists and pried them away from his jaw. After, Tenna grabbed his shoulders and raised his voice, and hoped his efforts were enough to get through to him.

He had no clue what he was thinking about, but the television darkner knew it had to end. It seemed to work, as Spamton froze with recognition, and came back the rest of the way on his own… even if Tenna wished he had better methods of doing so. The dull ‘thunk’ of Spamton’s ball-jointed wrist against his temple was enough to make Tenna's heart lurch, but… at least it worked.

…

Tenna’s frown knit into a tight grimace as he washed the mug he'd given to Spamton earlier with force, ignoring how with that passing thought how much smaller it got underneath his hands. How he hunched down just a little farther to rinse it off.

He knew Spamton was glancing at him every now and again, probably trying to gauge just how upset he was in light of… everything, but Tenna couldn't help but to just pretend he didn't notice.

… 

…

Every. Single. Second.

Every single second for every single phone call Tenna allowed him to take in their moments together. Every ring that took his little mailman out of the room was just one more step to taking him away in general.

And he could have done something. Noticed something was off. Anything. 

There was the question about just how many signs he had missed. How many times Spamton legitimately feared his little secret had been uncovered live by his closest single (literal) television audience. 

Speaking of literal…

‘I’D BE ALL [[strung up]]!’

‘Is that more puppet humor?’

…He said it was more literal than that.

Tenna’s screen dimmed as he remembered times where Spamton had been pulled away by that rotary phone’s siren call, a jerking arm movement in response to a hair on his head falling out of place or how their first handshake was too stiff to be truly natural.

Tenna had chalked it up to the nerves of the addison getting to him, hell, there was always an excuse, but even that seemed out of character with the flawless charisma and even more flawless delivery of his lines he had in front of the camera.

It was always flawless.

Too flawless.

...

That doesn't mean he wasn't himself the entire time we knew each other. It doesn't mean that.

Another glance at him from the puppet. From underneath those… damn glasses.

...How much of it was real?

How much of you were real?

I need to ask him. I need to ask him how much of it was–

‘Crack!’

He flinched and saw that Spamton had looked over at him in alarm.

“EVERYTHING [[Peaches & Cream]] OVER THERE, [Cathode Glow]?”

Tenna rolled his hand over from the mug he was washing, and noticed it had been cracked into large shards.

Great. Perfect! Spectacular! Just what the day needed.

“Yup,” Tenna said, meaning it to be more enthusiastic, but what could he say? His acting was in poor spirits today after the less-than-fortunate warm up session that was the entirety of waking up. “Just… broke. A thing. It's fine…! Would you look at that, I'm already wearing gloves! No worries.”

He sighed, shoulders falling slack as he gathered the pieces of the mug in his hand and walked over to the trash, practically chucking the pieces in. When he turned back around, Spamton had moved from his spot at the table to having stepped on the counter, standing in front of the sink.

“WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? A [State-of-the-art] [[DVD rewinder]]?? YOU’RE ON THE [check the tension in your tires] SIDE OF THINGS!! CAN’T HIDE FROM ME.”

“Can you blame me? I have a lot to think about.” 

Spamton crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the counter, silent and teeth clenched tight. His brow was pinched together as he looked up at Tenna.

“Look, it's okay. It's fine for now…! We should just put this all behind us for right now and just go.” There was an attempt from the CRT at sounding reassuring, but it failed at the state of how Spamton looked at him. He outstretched his hand and flexed his fingers, signaling Spamton to give him the dealmakers. “Come on, do your glasses thing.”

“WAIT. [While Products Last],” Spamton started and Tenna complied, hand falling slack at his side, puzzled at the salesman’s hesitation. 

“IF IT’S ANY [[Consolation_Prize]], I THOUGHT YOUR  [Show n’ Tell] WAS A REAL [[Smash Cut]]- SMASH. HIT. EAHAHA-!” He laughed and Tenna raised his brow, screen flickering. “THAT'S WHAT'S [Bugs in your monitor] YOU, RIGHT? THAT I SAW ALL OF IT? I DID, but I THINK THE [Kids Eat for Free] HAD A GOOD TIME. THAT AND KRIS COULD HAVE USED THE [[Distractions in your daily life]].”

“You think so?” Tenna asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, obviously it didn't end very well. You saw how that… turned out…” 

Tenna resisted the urge to put his face in his hands and shrink down as far as he could go as images flashed in his mind of the troubled, despondent and, worst of all, bored expressions on his contestants’ faces as they were trapped in the gacha balls of his bonus round. 

As he continued to run his mouth. Endlessly.

“SO WHAT?? YOU GOT A LITTLE [[Things are heating up]]! WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU [[Gave it your all]]! THEY’VE BEEN [battered&fried] THROUGH WORSE. BEFORE I JOINED THEIR LITTLE [party size], I R3;aLLY GAVE THEM A [Run! Run away!] FOR THEIR [Claim Cash Prize within the Next Hour]. SO I WOULDN’T WORRY TOO MUCH ABOUT YOUR LITTLE [Stunt Act].”

Tenna looked up at that, confused.

The comment still got Tenna to wince, although he tried not to make it too obvious. The fact that Spamton had been there to silently witness… all of it… definitely took some inches off of him as it was. 

And Tenna had blamed him for it all. Viewership plummeting, poor reviews, the urge to pull out the rerun failsafe time and time again...

…

Wasn't that still true? Despite it all? That Spamton's actions had led to them being unplugged?

…

Spamton had willingly taken the calls, after all. He'd made it a part to go along with however his benefactor guided him. It was his absence that tanked the show, and answers he had set Tenna up to receive were an issue when they weren't coming in. Tenna had to make do without, even if he'd prepared to have something stable and something secure for years.

...

Maybe.

But who cares at this point?

A loyal headstrong self-starter, following instructions relentlessly and at a priority at the obvious cost of his health, a subservient someone who dedicated his worth to whoever was on the other line, someone who obeyed everything given to him…

...

But what if he didn't obey every time?

...

The metaphorical turned literal.

It's more literal than that. 

Because he's a puppet. He was a puppet. 

...

What if this could have happened to him at any time?

...

The thought terrifies me. I can't imagine what it was like for him.

“I’M NOT [judgement day]! I HAVE NOTHING TO [[Contest judge panel]]!! ALTHOUGH, IF YOU HAD THE [0ppurtenity] TO DO IT AGAIN, I’D a4;Dd ONE            [(1)] LITTLE THING TO YOUR [Production coste]. IT MIGHT JUST SAVE YOU A LOT OF [anxiety? These medications may        ].”

Spamton was still talking. Trying to reassure him, offer him solutions, or that's what it seemed like to Tenna under all the ad jargon.

“Y-yeah? What would that be?”

“YOU NEED [[Who couldn't want more?]] OF THIS GUY!” Spamton pointed two thumbs inward towards himself. “TRUST ME, THE [[Audience]] EATS THIS [Big Shot] UP LIKE I'M A [Sweet Summer Potluck]! TALKING ABOUT ME SHOWS YOU’RE STILL [invested?]! AND NOTHING SAYS ‘MORE [Pay per View]’ LIKE [[Emotional Vulnerabiility]]!! RIGHT?”

He couldn't take him seriously right now. Part of him didn't even want to hear him talk. Tenna’s head was spinning and his chest hurt. He felt like he was going to throw up.

That had to be one of the cruelest punishments his benefactor could have inflicted. No wonder Spamton went into hiding. Tenna wished he had followed him and dragged him back himself, by force if he had to, just so that he could be there for him before he'd gone through what he did.

And there's no turning back. It's like replacing one of my damaged parts. To do anything to him we'd have to be… out there.

In the light world. There's nothing I can do here.

What had Spamton done to warrant a punishment of that caliber anyway? What part in his contract had he disobeyed?

“Yeah, no, right…! They like getting invested in their… or who they see on TV. You're right. You're right…”

He guessed he sounded more distant than usual, based on how quickly Spamton’s jaw ‘clack’ed shut and how he seemed to survey him.

“...HEY. [Silver Screen].” Spamton hopped off the counter, and walked over to stand in front of Tenna, looking up at him with concern. “ARE YOU EVEN [Listen up] HERE TO ME?”

I’m such an idiot. I’m SUCH an idiot. Why couldn't I put two and two together faster?! 

“I'm hearing every word you say. I swear.”

“[Mandatory_Safety_Hearing_Tests] ISN’T LISTENING. y0U KN0;w THAT.”

“Spamton, I know. Come on, let's just get going. Please. I don't want to talk about this any more.”

I don't want to think about it. Please.

The smaller darkner’s smile fell, and he looked almost guilty at first, but then his brow furrowed as he scoffed and scowled at the ground. “YOU’RE THE [[Boss]].” Spamton closed his eyes and slipped off his glasses, reaching upward and tilted his wrist in Tenna’s direction.

Tenna took them from him carefully, as if they were the most precious and fragile item he'd ever had the responsibility to handle. He glanced at them for merely a second, just to confirm he'd taken them in his hand before he looked away and Spamton had already disappeared while his attention was on the glasses.

Which meant…

Unlike the last time, Spamton hadn't spoken up so readily. Tenna waited anxiously in silence, his screen flickering and body growing tense as he looked at the dealmaker in his hand to just hope it would confirm it was him again.

What if something happened? What if something went wrong? What if he just vanished into thin air and his glasses trick didn't work? Could he just disappear? Could whatever is up there take him away permanently?!

“...You're in there again, right?”

“YEAH. I’M HERE. WHY? WHAT’S THE [[Hold’ em up]]?”

Tenna couldn't help but shakily sigh as his posture eased.

What am I thinking? He's not going to just disappear. That's crazy!

…This whole thing is crazy.

“Nothing! Nothing… Sorry, it's silly. Thoughts getting the better of me.”

Tenna held the glasses up to his screen by its arms, and even if he shrank down to Spamton’s size, he couldn't imagine these going on his screen any time soon.

It was still so strange to believe these were Spamton. Without any expression from him and only his voice to go off on, Tenna finally conceded maybe there was something stranger to find his partner as if not a literal stringless puppet. Tenna’s brow pinched and his screen dimmed as he studied the glasses, noticing the mirrored effect reflecting his screen back at him.

The pink and yellow lenses were also very smudged, next to dull, and looked like they hadn't been cleaned in some time. Upon closer examination too, the comment said by the yellow addison the other day rang a little bit more true with its slightly crooked frame. Maybe that last bit was due to Spamton's habit of sleeping in them.

“When's the last time you've cleaned these?”

“ARE WE [reely] [[own worst critic]] M;mY [get beTTer Cleanlienss Habits] RIGHT NOW ??”

“I mean, if I'm going to wear them- you? If I'm going to wear you around, I'd hope you're clean.”

“I MEAN y;0Ou’RE GETTING WHAT YOU [[expect onlee The Best]] STRAIGHT FROM THE [Trash Compactor Services]. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU [Congratulations! Your Expecting!]– E-    [E]  [[Expected Yesterday]].” 

It was odd, but Tenna could almost feel the dealmaker roll its nonexistent eyes with the tone.

“YOU DON’T [tipickly] GET [Freshly Washed Linen Sheets] FROM [your famous celebritty neighborhood] GARBAGE CAN. BUT WHO KNOWS?? MAYBE YOU DO. I WOULDN’T KNOW. I ONLY GOT THE [Leftovers]. AND WHATEVER [[Remember to clean your gutters]] I COULD FIND.”

Tenna tried to hide how he wilted from that comment and fell silent, his antennas drooping over his face. He ignored how he shrunk down, as if each word said by these glasses was knocking inches off his overall height one by one.

Please don't say that. 

Don't.

It doesn't fit you.

“...Well, you're not there anymore.” Tenna said, adamantly and passively, before he could catch himself. “Also, I don't remember anyone sponsoring a sarcasm segment, so you can drop that while you're ahead.”

The glasses didn't respond.

“You don't have to worry about that being your life again. Because it's different now, and you're with me. And I’ll never let anyone throw you away ever again. Understand?”

Still, the dealmaker was silent, and Tenna’s determined facade broke, his frown wobbly to try and maintain his composure.

“Spamton?”

“I [here and now] YA.”

“Can you repeat it back to me then?”

“I’M NO [[call and response jingle]]. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SAY [[$&!#]]. ALSO IT WON’T [Turn Out] RIGHT.”

“Just say it the best way you can. I want to know that you know it.”

“...NO ONE IS [[Make tossing out your spam easier]]– …[?$&%]. NO. ONE. 1i;sS      THROWING.     ME. AWAY. AGAIN.”

That's… a weird ad. Why would there be something to make it easier to throw him away? 

“R-right. Right. Now, let's get these cleaned up.” Tenna took the glasses in one hand and turned the sink back on, thankful he hadn't taken off the dishwashing gloves he wore. The water, due to having only run minutes before, was already warm by the time he turned the faucet on. 

“WAIT, [[Now while prices last]]? WITHOUT HEARING ABOUT [[de4ls on Car wash coup0n$]]??”

“Well, if you're not going to clean them, then I will. If it's been a while since you've washed them, then just let me help you out a little.” 

“...FINE. BUT BE [[careful restoration]]. OKAY? DON’T BE [Damaging the goods] BEFORE I GET [[Returned to Vendor]], GOT IT?”

“Of course, you know I was always gentle with you.”

“NOT LATELY.”

Well maybe if you didn't go around swinging weighted figurines at my face, things would be different. Maybe I wouldn't have to handle you like I have.

…

We started over. It's okay now.

…

It's okay now, right?

Tenna exhaled slowly and relaxed his grip. “I know. So I can be doing a little better! That doesn't surprise me one bit. Let me prove I can do it.”

When the dealmaker hummed in response, Tenna moved it under the running water, rinsing the pink and yellow lenses from what traces of grime that had accumulated over the years. Spamton hadn't protested, rather stayed silent, as Tenna applied a spot of dish soap to the lenses and washed away the smearing traces from them, as delicately as he could and as efficiently as he could. In moments, he was rinsing them again, and as the warm water cleared away the soap, letting it run off the frames, Tenna couldn't help but smile, hoping he was doing a good job at this–

“...WAIT. WAIT! [Cathode]! [[Hold the Phone]]! I FORGOT SOMETHING! LET ME GO! [[&@$%]].”

Tenna’s smile dropped abruptly and he readily complied, setting the still-wet dealmakers on the counter beside the sink. He turned off the water in a hurry and with more force than intended, the speed of it not even allowing a few drops to exit the spout after.

“What!? What is it? Is everything okay?!”

Tenna watched in anticipatory dread and surprise as Spamton reformed from the dealmakers, his body coming together from scattered code much like last time, except this time it was different. He was soaked, dripping wet from the water, which included the blazer he wore. However, once he fully reformed, his hands shot to his hair, anxiously clawing it back out of his face in a repeated frenzied movement of his hands.

“IT’S;s MY [[Popular Hairstyles]]! IT COMPLETES THE WHOLE [[Looking your best, Every Day of the Week]] AND I D0n’T HAVE ANY [preserves]! NO [[30% Haircare products: subscribed to monthly shipping]]!”

Tenna balked at the little salesman, his hands dropping to his sides.

“You're… worried about your hair.”

Spamton’s gaze shot in his direction, and he looked furious beyond belief, his eyes wide and strands of wet hair draping over his forehead.

“[Wood]N’t YOU [[Option: B]]??!?!!?!” Spamton was raging, and his face was tinged red from irritation. “YOU WOULDN’T hA>vE A      [idea in hell]!  YEARS OF [Contestant] [[Maintainance]] OF MY [professional upkeep]!! ALL DOWN THE [Drainage blockers] BECAUSE I FORGOT THIS [[#%&!]] [Transfer:Data] OVER BETWE;3nN [Form(s)]!!”

“...Are you kidding me?!” Tenna gripped his chest, trying to calm his nerves, but his height shot up a couple feet anyway. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! I thought I hurt you! And you're worried about your HAIR?!”

“NO, YOU DIDNT, BUT I COULD HAVE [Heartz] MY S4lES REP IN [[That free market climb]] WITH THIS [[Shtick]]!! IT’;s NOT LIKE I HAVE MUCH ELSE GOING FOR ME EXCEPT [[The Famis Big Shot Do]]! THIS IS MY [Signature]!!    WATCH ME NOT BE [[abled]] TO [reel ‘em in] AND [sell hydroxide to a fish] ANYMORE NOW THAT THIS IS RUINED. SALES IS ALL IN THE [Appearence]! LOOK IT UP!"

“I don't understand? You're not selling anything right now?!”

Really, what the hell is he going on about?!

Is he out of his mind?!

…

I’m good at this, I know I'm good at this! Right? This is important to him! So I should help him!

“DO YOU HAVE ANY [crude oil] OR DO I HAVE TO RESORT TO [[morally dubious fracking]] TO GET MY [hands] ON SOME?” Spamton paused, and with wide eyes, looked down. He then clenched his hair in his hands, a glitch nearly knocking him over from his seated position on the counter and making it look like he yanked on his scalp. “[[&$%#ING]] [&$%#]!! YOU DON’T HAVE [Sexy lucis locks]!    WHAT THE [&$%#] AM I GOING TO DO NOW?!”

“Okay, first...! You're going to calm down!” Tenna put his hands up. “Alright? Now, water can transfer between you and your glasses?”

“ONLY WHEN I AM THEM. IT’S [Comparable to the leading brands] IF YOU WERE LEFT OUT IN THE [[Rained]] OUT THERE [In the light],  AND GOT [At home Flu remedies] DOWN HERE. WHAT IM SAYING IS, IT MADE IT A [Hockey sticks] OF A LOT EASIER TO REMOVE ALL THE [[foaming insulation]] AS [Eyeglass frames] FOR KRIS, THAT’S FOR DAMN SURE.”

…Right. He had to get all that foam off somehow. I still can't believe I did that to him.

“BUT THAT’S [[mini cutlery sets]] COMPARED TO THIS! YOU HAVE NO [clue] HOW MANY [[Happy New Year(s) 1997]] THIS TOOK TO [keep up the ruse]. BUT NOW? I LOOK LIKE I’M ABOUT TO START ADv3rT1SING [pathetic ponzi scheme attempts]. SOME [Real piece of work]      BOTTOM OF THE [Barril] [$&%#]! I’M NO [salesmen], I’M A [snailsmen]. I’M A [Sham].”

“Oh come on,” Tenna tried to be lighthearted seeing the puppet legitimately sulk, water still dripping down his nose into his lap. “It's not that bad…! We can redo it! Just needs some touch ups, right?”

“IT’S NOT GOING TO BE [Right away]!   HAv3n>>T hAD TO [[Redo]] IT… SINCE I GOT LIKE THIS.    S1nCE I WAS      [[Kicked2ThaCurb]] BACK INTO THE [unemployment line]! CHUCKED LIKE [Rotten grains] AND [Aching Pains].”

“‘Got like this’, you mean-”

“TAKE A GUESS. DEMOTED FROM [[Hot Stud]] [Facial recognition] YOU [see! It's bright!] BEFORE YOU.  YOU KNOW IT. I JUST GOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT IT.”

But that would mean… he's been like this for years. Or the entire time we've been separated. 

“...You mean you've been like this ever since your phone call? Or close to it? But that would mean it's been…”

…

An entire decade.

…

He's been a puppet for an entire fucking decade.

…

A conversation they'd had when they were drinking together popped up in Tenna’s mind.

…

‘It’s puppet humor, right?’

'I… [Forget] S0m3ttIMES. I s;SHOULDN’T. HELL, I’VE b-BEEN LIKE THIS Ffffor [[Decades]]'

Dammit, Spamton… So it HAS been years. He even told me it's been years.  

Spamton dug the ends of his fingers into his sleeves, water pooling between the gaps as his grip wrung onto the fabric with his ever tightening hold. The lack of his answer told Tenna more than he needed, but then left a lot still to speculate. He probably didn't want to get cut off or censored with an explanation or clarification, so he grit his teeth and stayed quiet. 

So it happened pretty close to when he left. It would explain more why he didn't… come back. I would have accepted him back regardless of what he looked like…! I know I would have. I know… I would have.

What would I have said if he came back? What could I say? 

Is that why you tried to call after the fact? Would you have told me?

...

...There was the stage fright again…

...

Come on, Tenna! Keep it together! You couldn't be there for him them, but what about now?! He needs you right now! Look at him!

“...Y-you know… that…! That doesn't matter right now. You're worried about your hair, right? Well… well now you got me worried too! Here, let's dry you off and I’ll see what I can do.” Tenna gave him a supportive, wide and confident smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “I may not have some of my own, but don't think for a second I’ve forgotten how to do yours. You don't think I would just let all those styling tips for my favorite star just drop off when you did, would you?”

Spamton hesitated, but glanced up at him, slicking his soaked hair back again before slowly nodding.

“YOUR [[Cleansing herbal essences]] SMELLS GOOD ANYWAY. BETTER THAN [Drop that name brand, Hot Stuff] ANYTHING I’Ve USED IN A [[time to get a new watch]].”

Tenna snickered, his screen brightening. “I still think you should be using a good shampoo rather than regular soap."

“YEAH, YEAH. H;e>Y Y! I’Ll TAKE WHAT I CAN GET MY [Industrial Mitts] ON.” 

“Does your glasses trick work with drying off too?”

Spamton nodded and took off the glasses again in a huff, holding them in his hands and compartmentalizing his code once more, like he had before the interruption. Once he had, and his form fizzled away, the glasses dropped onto the counter without anything physical to hold them.

“...I HAVEN’T [[Flip-Flopped]] THIS MUCH BEFORE. NOT EVEN WITH KRIS. YOU’RE [Wearing that out in public?]– [$&@%]. WEARING. ME. OUT.”

“Well of course I am. What else would I do with a pair of glasses?”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I [Minty Fresh].” 

Even with that said, Tenna could detect a small hint of amusement and humor in his voice.

“I know, I know. That was a bad joke, right? Someone needs to fire some of these writers for the material they make me say in this script.”

Tenna took the dealmakers in hand again, and leisurely dried the lenses with a dish cloth. Spamton went back to being quiet, even as Tenna raised the glasses to the light in the room, tilting them slightly to check for smearing or leftover prints.

“There. Now you're looking more presentable! You're reflecting so well we would have to find a better spot to angle the camera if we both were on set…!”

The television darkner waited for a response, any response, but the glasses hadn't given one again, falling uncomfortably silent.

“...If it would make you feel better, I’ll pick up some hair products when I get the chance. Maybe a comb too? You don't have to worry about your, what'd you call it? Your signature?”

“WELL I HAVE TO HAVE SOMETHING. YOU [[What a Rip Off!]] MY [it's all natural, baby!] NOSE FOR YOUR [TV Labels].”

“Look, it's what worked for me…! Do you want me to fix your hair before we leave, even if you're still going to be your glasses? Just to, you know, give you some peace of mind? Or would that be asking too much of you?”

A long bout of hesitation, before the glasses did their thing one final time, and Spamton reappeared behind them. Tenna was finding it surprising how… easy it was to get used to something like this. He had set him down on the ground as the puppet reverted back from the glasses, away from all the water residue that he'd have to dry eventually from the counter.

Much to the television darkner’s amusement. He was dry, that much worked, but what got Tenna to smile is that his normally slicked back hair looked wild and unkempt, sticking up at all angles as if he had been dried off with a towel. In a way, he had, but this whole situation seemed to have more surprises at every twist and turn. 

Spamton must have caught him staring, though, because he did his best to smooth down his hair on his own, his expression scrunched with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. Tenna couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped from his mouth, and Spamton’s face reddened once again.

“...I KNEW THIS WAS A [[Everyone gets bad ideas]].”

“No! No, it's fine…! Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you!” Tenna lowered himself down to crouch on one knee. “Do you feel better, at least?”

Spamton nodded, albeit slowly, and he stared back at Tenna, eyes narrowed, but gaze distant as is he was looking past him. Or using his screen as a reflective surface for reference as he continuously tried to fix his unruly hair.

“Here, I did promise I’d help fix it,” Tenna reached out and with his hands clasping onto the sides of Spamton’s head, smoothed the salesman’s hair back using his thumbs. Tenna watched Spamton's eyes move as he seemed to track his movements in his screen. “You know, it feels better. Less…”

Less stiff. Whatever he'd been putting in it for years to maintain the style… it feels like it's gone now.

Tenna trailed off anyway, despite not intending to finish his thought in the first place. Spamton didn't need the reminder; he was probably already fully aware. But as for right now, it didn't look like he cared, as with every brush from Tenna's thumbs against his hair, the salesman's too-wide smile appeared to have softened, and his eyes fluttered shut. For the first time this morning, he'd looked more content than he had for a while. 

The CRT hoped this is what he looked like before being maliciously interrupted with his nightmare, whatever it may have been. The moment Tenna saw that expression on Spamton's normally too-strained face made him feel better that he could offer the puppet some peace where it was possible.

There was a subtle yet glitchy sigh below him, and the brightness of Tenna’s screen flickered in surprise, to see Spamton’s eyes frantically shoot open as soon as the sigh was out. The expression of contentment had vanished into one of shock, and Spamton's face continued to redden while Tenna noticed how tense he'd gotten in what could have been a split second.

He couldn't help but think it was so utterly adorable. There were… simpler times here. Despite everything they'd gone through this morning, despite all the revelations and negative feelings he harbored, the puppet getting flustered at his touch was something that got his heart to melt. Tenna beamed when seeing the red paint on his cheeks seemingly blend in with the rest of him before daring to speak.

“...You missed that?” 

“NO. I DON’T [[Miss this Once in a Lifetime Sale]]- I DON’T MISS. AnYTHING. FROM YOU.”

“It really looks like it.” Tenna said with a smile and a short chuckle.

“DON’T PULL THAT [$&#@] YOU [Order one size up] [[Antique Shop]]!!  THIS IS [[Getting distracted]] FROM OUR [Missionary Trip], SO FOCUS ON THAT INSTEAD! NOW GET GOING.” Spamton snarled and backed away in a glitchy jolt, practically shoving his glasses in Tenna’s hands. 

In a second, he was gone, and the glasses felt heavier once more, not physically, but instead with their added importance.

It was nice while it lasted.

“Mhm. No, I will. You're the boss.” Tenna hummed, cheekily using Spamton’s earlier words right back at him, and stood, tilting the glasses to catch the light. “Also because you told me your little secret with the glasses doesn't mean you can hide in them. Not from me, at least.”

It also means I can hold onto you easier. So when I'm with you, you won't ever run away again. You won't ever disappear.

Tenna straightened out his tailcoat and fixed his tie, then gently clasped the dealmakers in one hand before walking out of the kitchen, towards the front door of his provided castle town room. The main area was a mess from the night before, the bedroom not much better after growing to the height he had. Tenna had to clean this place up once they'd come back, and make up an explanation for the crack in the wall he’d made when throwing the figurine–

…The poster still lay where they'd left it. Both halves otherwise untouched from when he realized his other half was finally in the room with him after so long apart.

Tenna’s frown deepened and he averted his eyes away from it, as if it burned him, personally, viciously…

intentionally.

It was all intentional, wasn't it, Spamton? You waited.

…

He wasn't in his right mind.

Maybe now he is? Now that we've started fresh? 

I know you want to get better. I've seen it myself. Just now. I also want to get better and put this all behind me forever.

…

His gloved thumb traced around the frames in his hand, confirming he still held them in his palm.

…

Tenna then left the room, turning his back on the poster on the ground.

He probably looked as insane as the little puppet,

if not worse.

“OKAY [Cathode]. THIS ISN’T [[Working late all by yourself, handsome?]]- THIS. ISN’T. WORKING.” The glasses spoke in an irritated huff as Tenna clasped him in both his palms, holding him up to his mouth and talking with him as he walked through castle town after leaving uninterrupted. Thankfully, he kept his tone down and didn't make direct eye contact with the glasses, instead watching for other darkners that could approach him to judge him as crazy first and ask questions later. 

That wouldn't happen.

He would stage it as if he was on a call if questioned, and that the signal was poor in his damaged antenna.

“Yes, well I can't wear you on my face.”

“THEN PUT ME [Up top]!! AND THEN MAYBE GET [Skyscraper clearance] FOR A [[1997 Specil]] GUY! COME ON, [Showstopper].”

“I'm assuming you want me to put you on my head?”

“YES.”

“And if you slide off? Not a chance…! I'm not wandering around looking for you if you won't turn back.”

“THEN [[Find pest s1ghtings]]  A BETTER PLACE TO [Put] ME.” The dealmaker spat, as much as a pair of glasses could. “I WANT TO [[Have ViP viewing experiyance]] TO EVERYTHING GOING ON WITHOUT BEING IN YOUR [stinking] POCKET.”

“Fine…! Fine!” Tenna grumbled and folded one arm of the glasses down, sliding the other into the breast pocket of his tailcoat, the lenses facing outward. “Happy now?”

“...ACTUILY? [[Affirmations pending]]. THIS IS A [Top Tier] [[Seating assignment]]. I CAN [Lived] WITH THIS. NICE JOB, [Boob tube].”

“Oh,” Tenna was taken off guard by the genuine compliment, with no hint of sarcasm in there. “Ahaha, see? I can just as easily play into your scheme of hiding you away. Aren't you lucky to have someone like me around?”

“YEAH, REAL [Luckey_Winnar]! GET A [[tag team deal]] WITH THE [Tallest Glass Of Water] AROUND WHO WON’T EVEN GIVE ME A [[.POV]]. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO HOG THE [You must be this Tall to ride].”

If Tenna had eyes, he'd be rolling them right now, but he couldn't hide the smirk that appeared on his face.

He still wants to be tall.

That part of him hasn't changed, but I doubt it ever will.

“I DIDN’T GET ENOUGH OF IT WITH MY [[Diets for your Ideal Body]]. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW [one millionth customer!] YOU ARE TO BE ABLE TO [[See over the crowd]].”

That's a weird way to phrase it. He 'didn't get enough’? If I understand correctly, he's always been on the short side. But that's what made him so special. The smallest salesman… with the biggest personality. It was something I could easily show off to the world.

Its ironic I'm hiding him now, isn't it?

“Wait, ahahaha, you weren't tall even back then, so where's this coming from?”

“DON'T RUB IT IN. I’M NOT [Talk the Talk] ABOUT THAT [Magazine Cover Material 1997]. I’M TALKING ABOUT MY [[Smoothest Tastes]]. MY [Get the perfect body without the hassle].”

Tenna cocked a brow as his frown pressed into a thin line, not exactly expecting that response.

“I don't know what you m-”

“Boss! Hey, boss!”

Tenna whipped around to see a single zapper and a shadowguy approach him. Instantly, Tenna’s smile brightened on a dime, antenna straightening along with his posture as he moved his hands to his hips.

“Hey hey, now! I haven't been your boss for one mighty minute, so where's this ‘boss’ line read coming from? I thought I had that changed in our cast’s pitch packet before we all got here!”

“Sorry, b- I mean ‘Sir’. We ain't too quick on moving on from TV Time employment is all.”

At the nervous smiles of his former employees and their shared awkward glances between each other, Tenna could help but chuckle away the joke on his own. 

“I’m only joking! Haha, you can call me whatever you want. It's not only my new start, but all of ours!” Tenna felt himself in danger of shrinking down at the reaction he got, even if his smile and height hadn't wavered. “What can I do for you two?”

“Well, sir, we haven't been seein’ yous down at the TV building. Got some sets made n’ all, thought you'd come take a look-see?”

Right. The whole reason I'm still here. 

…I haven't really been doing a good job, haven't I? I haven't even been around. 

Kris and Susie are the only lightners I'm serving at this time and I can't even stick to making them something they'd like to return to.

“New sets already? Well isn't that just nifty! Oh, well, I'd love to today! But I've been running all over, trying to get some new commercial talent signed just in case we all happen to get back onto air.”

The shadowguy piped up with a string of saxophone notes and Tenna laughed again at his question from the sheet music he heard. 

“Of course there is! Why would you ask that anyway?” Tenna’s smile became uneasy. “There's always going to be fresh talent in every place you look! No, no, finding the advertisers was the easy part, but a recording guy to fill… hahaha… Mike’s spot, that might be… well, it definitely might be more of a challenge, but not one that's impossible! Who needs him, right?” 

Don't take that ‘finding the advertisers was the easy part’ to heart, Spamton. I don't mean you. I could never mean you. In fact, if things were different…

“Actually, boss,” The zapper spoke up again, their arms held behind their back. “We've been doin’ some thinkin’ among us all and we thought, if we made a recording room like we had back home, we think Mike could make a return if there's somethin’ to broadcast.”

“You think that would work?” Tenna’s expression dropped in surprise.

The shadowguy and the zapper shared glances, with the shadowguy eventually shrugging then nodding enthusiastically. More notes, mainly quarter notes said in mezzo-piano, as he talked silently and quickly.

What does he mean by getting the team of three back together?

The zapper nodded and turned back towards Tenna. “It's worth a shot. Us folks are missin’ Mike walking around the studio–”

“What a terrific idea, then!” Tenna’s height increased significantly as he clasped his hands in front of him with glee. “A special reunion appearance! Yes, we should get on that pronto! No time to waste! Then there could be broadcasts right here! Right in–”

…

Castle town.

…Not… with the lightners. 

“I-in town. Right in town…! Haha! For everyone here.”

The zapper nodded. “We’ll draft up some plans to set it all up then, sir. It will be done before you know it.” 

“Sounds just perfect! Before you know it, we'll all have the viewers around here thoroughly razzled and dazzled with what we’re made of!” Tenna still shrunk back down with his previous thought cycling through his head. Of not… being of service to the lightners anymore. What did that even say about his purpose anymore?

The shadowguy spoke up first in response to Tenna’s shrinking, his tone rising in scale and taking on a different key signature, his saxophone-speak pitching up at the end of his query.

“Well of course I'm doing okay! Do I not look okay?” Tenna’s smile became strained. “It's just some nerves, some leftover nostalgia! Yuck, right? That's not very new-age improvements of me! That's not what we're doing anymore! I'm sure it will all go away once we all get used to the place.”

“Right you are, sir,” The zapper continued. “A group of us are meetin’ in a couple’a hours at the cafe in town. We'd like to see ya there.”

“Already weaved it right into my schedule! And this I did without Mike's management. So already I'm getting the jump on things!” Tenna moved his hands back down to his hips in confidence. “I’ll be there! It means a lot that you all decided to invite me this time…!”

The ‘this time’ could have been left out. In fact it should have been left out. He watched as his ex-employees got those shared expressions of nervousness, as if there was going to be a resurgence of his more unforgiving nature. The thought could cripple Tenna’s persona of the moment, and so he wasn't about to let that happen.

Not now, not as he was barely holding himself together as he was.

“Whoops! Sorry, duty calls! I can't waste any time and wish I could stick around and chat, but with this list of responsibilities, I need to have most of it taken cared of before the last marker! Toodles, you two!”

With a wave over his shoulder, Tenna strolled off casually yet quickly, not waiting for a response other than the ones he heard. Further saxophone from the shadowguy and a ‘We’ll be seein’ ya later then, sir!’ from the zapper.

Once he was far enough, Tenna let out a long sigh, letting himself shrink down gradually as he slid his hands in his pants pockets and hung his head.

“...[Cathode]? THAT’S QUITE A [downgrade] IN YOUR [Stock Market Value].”

“I don't belong here, Spamton.” Tenna blurted out, and cringed when it passed his lips. “They mean well, they really do, and I care for them. I shouldn't even be complaining. I should be happy I'm even alive to see what life is like here...! But I just can't…” 

I can't entertain anymore. Everything I knew is gone.

His lip trembled as he clenched his fists at his sides after trailing off. “I can't even make myself fit here."

Silence from the dealmaker followed, and Tenna regretted saying anything at all at first-

“WELL [Have I got news for you]!! YOU [Came to the right] GUY!! TALK ABOUT A [Tight fit?], I KNOW ALL ABOUT [struggles of a single] JUST LIKE THAT. WHY DO YOU THINK I WANT THE WHOLE [[Displacement]] S;iTuaSHUN OF MINE [kept under wraps] FROM THOSE AD-SPITTING [Traitors]? [Spoiler Alert:], IT’S NOT JUST ‘CUZ OF THIS [New&Improved]      [[What a looker!]] [UglyMug]. NO, IT WAS WAY BEFORE THAT.”

Tenna got the sense he knew what Spamton was talking about. The out-of-place addison, an outlier from his peers. Probably treated as such too with how ready they all were to silence mention of his name at the end of it all. It's why the two had hit it off so well in the first place, Tenna thought as their relationship continued, long past when Spamton was just his television star and more into when he'd signed him along as a co-host. He knew this little addison, despite not being at all super important in the world he was from, was different, and he decided to hold on with rigorous intent. 

“I WANTED [[Out on the town]]. BUT THAT CAME AT A [[prices rising! Get it while it lasts!]. SO I GET IT! BUT I DON’T THINK YOUR [[Relocation]] WILL HAVE YOU MAKING ANY [Cheaper phone plans starting at $50].”

I sure hope not. But you must have really hated being one of them if you went as far as you did.

However, with all that said, there was something in how Spamton was now that the image Tenna had built of him for nearly two decades just lacked. Maybe it was the familiarity of their shared downfalls, them both fighting for additional purpose when their pre-established purposes had been run out after plans changed…

The grace of their failure, perhaps.

Whatever it was, he didn't want it to run out. He didn't want to be without it.

It reminded him of their times off-camera. When they could just be themselves.

Or... he assumed they could be themselves. For Spamton, it could have potentially been a little different.

No. I believe you were you when we were together. I hope you were you. I didn't admire anyone else but you.

“I'm glad you're with me.” Tenna started, “I'm glad I have you. I don't think I'd be doing very good here by myself.”

“YEAH, YEAH. SAYS THE [Television Network] AT THE HEIGHT OF HIS [[Take 2 and we're rolling]].”

“No, really. If I didn't find you, I don't know how I would have been spending my time here. Sure, maybe I’d be a better lead or role model or whatever they want me to be here, but I don't think I'd have anyone to talk to that would get it.”

The dealmaker didn't reply to that.

Tenna wondered if he was thinking of what to say or how to deliver it, but he happened to not say anything at all.

It could have been that he didn't have anything to say, or maybe the dealmaker noticed they were coming up to the part of town littered with addisons and decided the risk wasn't worth it. Still, Tenna knew he heard him and that's all that mattered to him.

Chapter Text

Seeing one of these ads again was enough to make him feel like he was steaming as he remembered everything about them he loathed.

Their too-fake smiles, their nauseatingly vibrant hues that shone with candorous and shameless promotion as to attract all the eyes they could in a vicinity. It was a cheap and easy trick to keep people from looking away. No, to warrant attention, at least to Spamton, it had to be earned. You had to do something to achieve it. It can't come naturally, because if it did, what if it never would just because of who you were fated to be? That's what [[Name Redacted]] told him, anyway.

(And then, on the off chance it did get to come naturally for at least a little while but got taken away… well, that story had been told already. Not one of Spamton’s favorites by any means.)

The addisons would vehemently disagree, thinking it did come naturally, as that's all they knew, then they'd turn it back on him, saying he’d done nothing to warrant the eyes on him and that he was no better than what they did on the day-to-day. It was hypocritical. They'd diminish his accomplishments to rubble, they'd tear his ego down to grit and sand if they could. Only because they were jealous he'd accomplish something that was impossible to achieve. However, the accomplishment that had the most merit to him was ultimately the most impossible thing he was able to do... at least in the standards of a darkner.

He had removed himself from being like them. And truly, that was the greatest feat of all. It had jumpstarted everything else.

To call the addison identity an upset to him was an understatement, and one Spamton was all too glad to be free of. He couldn't believe he used to be one of them. The thought by itself was enough to make him feel like a mockery, on top of being turned into a characterization already. It was enough to make him laugh or cry or rage or fly into hysterics.

As for Tenna…

…

Well, he'd never seen him as an addison before. Not solely an addison. Yes, he'd been one of them before, if it meant looking the part, calling himself the part, but his benefactor had gotten him into the mansion at that point, boosted his numbers up enough to appear credible and noteworthy, and Spamton had met with mansion patrons and befriended some of them. Most notably Swatch, whose image was enough to have him pacing trenches into the carpet of his room. He had to look like that. Being placed in this new environment, he had to do what the best up-and-coming Big Shots do in their early days; he had to acclimate. Reinvent himself. Reintroduce himself. Reshape himself.

Out with their cookie cutter shaped limelight- he was becoming his own shape. That's all he'd ever be anyway without the lightner’s attention. If he wasn't going to fit properly in their lineup, then at least he was going to give himself a shape they'd never forget.

His hair was dyed in the next few hours and addison attire thrown in the wastebin. There was no going back after that- there would be no going back after that. Maybe that's why he'd clung to Tenna so strongly, not just because of his sheer power and influence in his world, but because he would never get to know how Spamton appeared at his default, without the alterations he'd made to himself, before he was a shapeless instrument of his own creation.

Tenna's ignorance to who he was before was an affirmation he'd never be like it again. Then... it got worse. He'd reshaped his reshaping after the fact.

Don't think about that.

…

What was happening now, anyway?

He needed to stop zoning out and be present in the moment he wasn't present in.

“That makes sense why you had to leave like you did. For a bit, we thought it was on us!” The orange addison laughed openly, tilting one of his wrists dismissively. “I misplace things all the time! But never a lightner owned item! Maybe I could help you make it up to them with some eyeglass cleaner sprays I'm selling? They'd appreciate a scratch-free shine, I know I would.”

Don't you dare clean me with any of that addison branded shit. Don't you even THINK about it. I’d rather take being scrubbed with a steel wool sponge and battery acid.

“Oh, no thank y-... actually, let me think on that! I may have to take you up on that offer.”

Damn you, Tenna!

Not from them! Why is that the part of my life advice you're casually ignoring!? I could wring you by your stupid tie!

“Certainly, there's no rush! We have a long partnership ahead of us with your brand after all!”

Spamton wanted to bash his head into a wall so hard his forehead cracked. But he didn't have a forehead right now, much less a head, much less a body, so that plan was off the table. Nothing more than an impulsive thought at the moment. So all he could do was stare daggers at the addison.

The more Spamton looked at him, the more off he felt about the whole situation.

Eye-level. With an addison. Not looking up at one. But being at equal height with them and facing them head on. 

Yes, it was from his place in Tenna’s tailcoat, sure, but a pair of glasses could imagine otherwise. This was wrong, he needed to get taller so he could look down on all of them as [Heaven] intended. Maybe if he was lucky these addisons would play kiss-ass and make the CRT’s already inflated ego just a little larger. 

Wait. The conversation. Hey! Get back in the conversation!

“So what brings you in here, anyway? You don't have more questions, do you?” Oh, this was already going to be hell, wasn't it? “It's no trouble, I have no problem answering them, it's just good to know what I’m in for…!”

Spamton wished he could see Tenna’s expression from his angle, but he had to do the best to infer what he was like based on how he felt him tense at the addison’s comment. 

“Though I wish we all could have told you more about Spamton–”

“You already answered all I needed to know in that moment, we don't need to go into it further! No, what I am today is just another customer of yours. A patron in town, before we even begin talking about ad slots and commercials when the show comes back up!” Tenna put his hands behind his back, and seemed to be looking around the boutique, his voice full of that staged cheerfulness. “If you want, we could fill in the other addisons that I was here, so as to avoid any, say,” He gestured with his hand, Spamton glancing at it briefly. “Potential conflict. Wouldn't want that now, would we? It is their offer too! Better keep them in the know, right?”

The orange darkner looked up at him, expression capturing intrigue definitely, and Spamton was already thinking of what could be going through his head. There was the bait, Tenna had laid it out neatly, a line for honesty and transparency. Now whether or not these salesmen were truly a team like they said they were the day prior was up for debate.

Spamton knew these darkners and their innate draw towards competition and finding any way to more easily benefit from a system of internet advertising. He wasn't a stranger to his observations from the dark crevices of the city, lurking through trash bins at the back of the blue addison’s storefront to find shoelaces long enough to keep Tasque Manager’s tasques occupied and entertained so that he could sneak past her on his way to the basement without them outing his location. No, the blue addison had started selling shoes whilst knowing that was [[Click to Claim]]’s expertise. The puppet found a humor in that, maybe [[Input:Survey]] saw their fellow addison ease up on shoe sales and took the opportunity to nab the market. 

Even if the majority of his time was spent sitting in his trash receptacle, motionless and limp with his head propped against the metal wall, full to the brim with basement plans and fantasies of Neo, his undercover viewing of the group offered him some entertainment in his sparse moments of lucidity.

By the way the orange addison fell silent and his glow dimmed, Spamton could tell he was thinking of taking advantage of the opportunity at hand here too if he could, which if their conversation meant anything last night, Tenna would let him do. The dealmaker almost wished TV Time was still up and broadcasting, just so he could be a backseat observer to the last of their friendly salesmen unit falling apart at the seams. With any luck, maybe it would before it started.

“Well, I don't see the harm in keeping it here that you were shopping with me today,” The orange addison said, his hue brightening as he leaned over the counter. “What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I could help you find something of interest? I carry a wide range of sizes, and can even custom make larger orders.” 

There it was, the first instance they weren't as clear-cut and coordinated as they all appeared to be. 

“Ahaha, no need! No, I'm just browsing today, rounding out my wardrobe. Trying to be more versatile and flexible when it comes to getting back on set. Where do you keep your suits?”

[[Banner advertising]] grinned and with that stupid addison pose right on cue, rounded the counter. “Right this way, here let me show you personally!” He then led the way around a series of shelves and mannequins boasting different styles of clothes, with Tenna in tow.

The television darkner paused to linger around a certain mannequin perched on a low shelf by a wall that divided two sides of the store. It wore some white gloves with golden lining on hands where one was angled at its hip and the other was down by its side. Tenna seemed to have stared at them for a second or two, based on the dealmaker's limited oversight.

Interesting. Maybe I could…

“We also have dressing rooms around that corner, if you need them, I could always open one up for you–” The orange addison was yammering on, probably motioning towards it, if Spamton could see, but the addison’s back was turned and he was fairly ahead. 

A particular blazer on a small, white mannequin caught his eye to his left. It was a standard black one, but without all the patchwork and wear-and-tear his current one had. It was even absent stains from acid spills and garbage residue that had accumulated over time, much less all the other things thrown at him by those that did not want to be advertised to in the dead of night when they were unattended walking through cyber city alleyways.

It was a decent upgrade, he'd say that much. Maybe he could convince Tenna to let him at least try it on. It looked around the size of a pippins or plugboy– just enough in his favor to be perfect. Sure, a custom fit was a far cry from happening, but did he really want an addison taking his precise measurements in order to make him his own suit? That was a luxury for someone else that existed a long time ago. To exist to the addisons in general was a task and a burden for someone else that existed a long time ago. 

Tenna was looking instead at some of the larger suit and dress shirt combos that were presented to him by the orange addison.

With a short glance up at Tenna, then a look at the addison in front of them, he decided to take his chance.

“PSSs*czzht*T–! H;h  eY [[10% OFF Discount Coupons]]-! [9’oclock on the dot]...! LOOK–”

He was immediately silenced with a firm slap on the exterior of his frames as well as an immediate shrouding of darkness. The exterior of a too-large white gloved hand stared back at him, and he could tell he was being covered by it.

“Sorry, did you say something? I didn't hear that right.” The dealmaker could hear [[Web-Banners]] ask. “About discount c-”

“Yes…! I did ask something about that.” Tenna gently squeezed the dealmakers and let go of them, now seeing the addison in front of him staring up at his partner’s screen. “Well, you know, I've dabbled just a bit in promotional commercials myself on my show. I was just wondering if you were running any sales recently. Just out of curiosity.”

No! Look at the suit! The one I told you to look at! That screen of yours works, I know it, I fixed it after I cracked it, didn't I?!

“I believe I can look.”

…Wait, maybe this is good. 

“I only ask as I'm learning so much more about the addisons. Coming from the studio, I haven't seen cyber city since the early two-thousands. You all have gotten so much more ambitious over the past few decades, I mean, nearly roping me in with a ‘Everything 75% off’ scam from the get-go was certainly a choice–!”

“Oh, that wasn't mine, that was Clicks’s decision.” The orange addison replied, sounding just a bit nervous. 

“Clicks! Thank you for reminding me. He really is a bold one, but has lots to sell! And at such great value. You addisons are going to be just perfect for TV. It's just good to get to know the brands of what's getting broadcasted, especially when I've got a team that would benefit from some talented tailoring!”

How Tenna emphasized the pink addison’s mock strengths got the orange one to brighten with a tinge of jealousy and clasp his hands tightly. Spamton would smirk if he could, seeing the television fall back into that sweet-talking business-like persona of his. 

“We can always work something out! Are there any that caught your eye so far?” 

Tenna hummed and strolled over to where the small black blazer was displayed, and Spamton was delighted to see he'd actually caught on, even with the ads being what they were. The fact he'd overcome that hurdle gave the puppet a little hope he didn't know he needed.

“I have someone on my team looking for this cut of blazer. Fortunately for both of us, this would be a great fit for him.”

“Well, actually since you brought it up, that one happens to be selling at a discount as of this morning! Would you be interested?”

“I would, actually. It looks to be my lucky day!”

“I can hold it for you at the front while you continue to look around–” The sound of a bell interrupted the orange addison and he glanced towards the door.

“Hey, Banner, you here?” A voice called from behind the shelves and the dividing wall. It sounded like the blue one of their darkner species. “Sponsor went to advertise to the fan club, so I'm dropping in!”

“In a minute! With a customer!” [[Purchase Banner ad]] yelled back, and Spamton watched as he looked back towards Tenna for confirmation.

Say no. I want to try it on.

“That would be nice of you, thank you,” Tenna spoke politely, and Spamton could just imagine that damn coy smile on his face as he did. He resisted the urge to snap at him and stomp his nonexistent-at-the-moment foot in irritation. Guess he couldn't have his wins without a few losses, give or take.

“You have questions about anything else, just let me know.” Spamton watched as the orange addison walked out of his field of view, and Tenna seemed to watch him go. There was a shuffling of a blazer being removed off a mannequin and carried away. Audible conversation from the two addisons followed as Tenna continued to browse the other clothing in the area. 

“...So… how'd I do?” Tenna whispered, his head tilted downward.

“yoU DID [[not a bad job, bob]]...!” Spamton attempted to whisper back, even if the ad came out at normal volume as it usually had. He could just feel Tenna stiffen underneath him at its volume, and that genuine smile of his strain meticulously. “niCE GOING WITH THAT   [[slip and fall sue]]– THE [This counts]-”

“Okay, shh…!” Tenna shushed him, but Spamton couldn't ignore the slight amusement in his voice, as if he was genuinely giddy about receiving the approval. “Don't think you can silence the ads, can you? If you can't mute them?”

“...NOt liKE. I HAVE.   A [[volume ctrl]].  [Specil Perk] ON. THESE.    THINGS. OR.   At       ALL.”

“Right, right, but if you don't want to be caught any time soon, I wouldn't do that again. I understand why you don't want to talk to them, so I'll do what I can to keep you… hidden.”

Thank you. Now you get it.

“Still, I wish you could give me some kind of signal to make this easier,” Tenna mumbled under his breath as he trailed his fingers over the glasses. “Or that you were here,” There was a sorrowful tone in his voice as he passed by a clothing rack lined with different dress shirts and he flipped through them with his fingers, seemingly absentmindedly at first. “I just hadn't expected I'd be… hiding you now. You know, I quite liked showing you off to the world. When I could.”

...I liked being shown off. When I had something to show off. But it's all gone now.

Tenna had stopped at a small, red dress shirt and Spamton could immediately tell the associations cycling in its head with it. The associations smelled like velvet curtains, like freshly sprayed cologne and television makeup and stage polish. It smelled like perspiration and adrenaline and the acrid smell of the set lights as they warmed through the dust lining their glass. No, it wasn't his matching red suit, but the shade by itself was enough to send Spamton catapulting back in recollection with his co-star. 

He could only imagine the images that were reeling through that clunky head of his television partner, and could practically picture them cycling over eachother one by one, like an endless collection of the unattainable past viewed through something as obsolete as a stereoscopic viewer toy.

The looseness in which Tenna held himself upon speculating the garment was immediately apparent. He was slumped, and just with a glance upward, Spamton could tell his antennas bobbed dejectedly over his face.

Part of Spamton felt… an unspoken remorse for the television. Hell, he was here, he was clean, he was actively being hidden in his best wishes… sure, Tenna owed it to him but… the least he could do was aid in his own way. Maybe show him his own capabilities while he was the dealmaker once he had the opportunity. Tenna was taking on the brunt of the responsibility and performance with this escapade after all, maybe Spamton could… help in a way.

Think of something, you useless dummy.

…

There was the idea that popped into his head, and maybe Tenna would find some merit in it– if they could reserve a dressing room, then all Tenna would have to do was have him wear an outfit and they could make out with it as he became the dealmaker again. There was even the added bonus of not having to offer these cheats any financial compensation on top of it all, so really, what were they waiting for? That idea was golden and made the dealmaker feel like he glint in the light with determination. 

That would be the most effective method of approach, but as to actually deliver this line of thinking towards Tenna… without… being interrupted vocally… well, that was the hard part. Especially if he didn't have any hands to mime with. Maybe he could turn back momentarily and grab what he could, then book it to the dressing rooms-

In their silence, however, the conversation from the other addisons in the store seemed to raise in volume, even with its hushed back and forth, leading Spamton to listen in part with curiosity as well as rounding out his plan in his head.

“I swear, Banner, I'm at my limit with him.” The voice of the blue addison sounded strained and resentful, but otherwise definitely agonized.

“He’ll calm down, or wear himself out…! He always does, you know this.”

“Yes, but I was in the middle of a sale and he comes in and advertises basically the same pair of shoes…! To the same exact customer! At a cheaper price? Right in front of my face? And then he has the gall to get upset with me when I tell him to stop? Oh, the pattern was different, who cares…?! Having the attitude yesterday, I can explain it away, but to me earlier? I didn't even do anything…!”

“Right, no he shouldn't have done that. I don't even know why he continues marketing shoes in the first place, knowing you'd just started the Cyber Shoes II brand. He has his teas and accessories, he’ll be fine. But why he's acting like this–”

“I know why he's acting like this. He did this last time we talked about Spam.”

“I think last time was worse. That last shop rebrand almost sunk the reputation of all us addisons. Also him wearing that cropped blazer with the peak lapels wasn't good for the image either.” That sentence sounded like it was spoken with a shudder at the end. “It's still not right that he treated you that way.”

“I'm so… tired of this. I'm so tired of every time he's brought up, something goes wrong and we all end up fighting again…! I'm tired of picking up the pieces that he left us with. I'm tired of reflecting on it every single time without fail.”

Spamton felt Tenna become very still, as if he'd been eavesdropping on the addison conversation as well, and noticed that his fists were balled at his sides. If Tenna were to put a stop to anything, it'd be soon if not now. Really, Spamton wanted no part in whatever act these scammers were conducting, they had no reason to flaunt their false pity around like it was a white flag when he didn't even exist to them anymore.

In the dealmaker's humble opinion, there were better sideshow acts in the companionship of his pocket-roommate of a jester.

“Hey, just like you said yesterday. Forget about him…! It's okay, his failure wasn't our fault, so you should stop blaming yourself. Even his own partner agreed that it was his fault and that this whole thing is because of him. That should say something, right?”

Tenna cringed, that much was very obvious, and Spamton watched the world around him just get a tiny bit bigger as his wearer’s size went down. 

Stop listening to them! Get back to business!

“HEY…! WHAT. ARE YOU. WAITING. FOR? GRAB. [styles>$ s-]–...! AND A  [[Addressing letter to;,-]]–"

“...I didn't mean it, what I said about you. Or I meant it then, I just didn't know...” Tenna turned away from the dress shirt display, walking in the direction that orange addison had gone to the front of the store.

What the hell is he doing?! Where the hell is he going?!

Fine! Fine, if you won't stay on track, then I’ll do it myself!

Someone's gotta do all the work around here, I guess! Who cares what they say?! They'll say anything to try and justify themselves! Even to each other, you should know that by now! It's the oldest trick in the book!

Guess I'm onto Plan B.

As Tenna walked forward, Spamton focused on his code and the glasses toppled out of Tenna’s pocket, and Spamton reformed from them behind him. It was apparent that Tenna hadn't noticed the shift, nor the dealmaker making its slippery escape as he continued his path forward towards the addisons. 

As soon as he was in his physical body again, Spamton darted in the other direction and swerved back behind the shelves without being seen. He probably didn't have much time to do this, but it depended on how long the CRT could keep those salesmen distracted. 

“But we should still-” The voice of the blue addison cut off with a strangled gasp. “Mr. Tenna! Sorry, I didn't know you were shopping here today, Banner didn't… say anything about you being here.”

“Why would he need to? I'm just another customer dropping in. Meanwhile, I couldn't help but eavesdrop as I was doing my shopping, and happened to pick up on your conversation about my former cohost.”

Spamton scampered over to the dress shirts, and maybe it was sentimentality, maybe it was to appease that too-tall gameshow host, but from the selection of shirts on a hanging rack, he trailed his hands over the fabric until his fingers locked onto one of the smaller sizes. Slipping it off from the confines of its hanger, and with a frantic glance over his shoulder to make sure he remained undetected, Spamton shrugged off his blazer and replaced it with the dress shirt. 

…The shirt… was nice on him. It felt nice. Its fabric was sleek and new, it having the faintest of fresh scents in contrast to his blazer that had carried the same odor that had melded into its fabric for so long that Spamton had stopped paying it any mind. Maybe if he didn't notice it, then others wouldn't as well.

…He could really use some pants with this. He'd get them, surely, he just needed to… think. 

…

While how it felt on him was something to write home about, what he couldn't ignore for other reasons was the red color of the shirt.

“We don't mean any disrespect, Mr. Tenna,” The orange program sounded like he was trying to recover the conversation. “Resurfacing everything again yesterday just left some of us a little worse for wear, that's all!”

...

[Easels] didn't wear this shade of red. What they did wear was an assortment of monochrome with compliments of color that stood out in terms of design. Spamton wearing this would break the entire illusion and he might have to face the reality that his disguise was subpar at best. Spotted in an ill-fitting spotlight, unrecognizable to the brawny feathered yesmen that lingered around. Too out of character, or rather off model, to get into the basem–

A glitch scrambled the pixels in his head and Spamton clung to his hair, rocking forward and planting a foot forward to recenter his balance. He could have snarled at himself, but ended up raking his hands through his hair instead as he gathered, mentally, that there was no basement mission anymore. The basement mission had been a fai-... it had been a success. Which had failed.

Focus!

Right, right, right!

Spamton shook his head, the stray pixels clipping off his head glitching back into place as he turned his attention away from the shirts and combed through a shelf of different slacks, glancing every so often over his shoulder to make sure he didn't have any prying eyes that could potentially pinpoint a thieving puppet rooting around. A majority of these were a bright neon green, or what he could identify as that garish addison-riddled color, and Spamton was determined to steer clear of them at all possible costs. This was something that he could be picky over with no regrets and full sincerity–

“So what? You all can't just forget THAT HE HAPPENED. Really, who would do that?! It's like everyone's so quick to move on!” 

Tenna’s voice rang out from the other side of the shelves and Spamton froze, hearing the tremor in his words. Their conversation hadn't been of the utmost importance to keep tabs on in his side mission, fading in with the background especially during his earlier glitch, but with the volume and disheartened tone of Tenna’s, Spamton couldn't help but to crane his hearing in that direction as he continued on searching for any color besides green. 

It sounded like it had escalated while he was distracted. Someone probably said something to piss the TV off.

“There are reasons…!” [[Marketing Surveys]] piped up. “Reasons that we had to resort to in order to carry on! Losing someone like that so suddenly–”

“You addisons just love to twist the truth, don't you?” Spamton could practically hear the shake in Tenna's words, laced with an air of disbelief. “When I knew him, he told me that he didn't talk with any addisons anymore. So make it make sense.”

“But see, that wasn't because of us!” The orange addison now aided in this face-off. “He decided it was a good idea to advertise for one of his cars right in front of us, just randomly, as if he was on some kind of power trip. It hurt us too, you know. All of us. Sure, our jobs are competitive, but it was something we never expected to see from him!” There was a heavy lack of response from Tenna, and Spamton could only grit his teeth and close his eyes tightly, picturing how exactly the television might be connecting the dots with that revelation.

Fucking shit.

“...Randomly.”

“Yes, randomly. It was the last night we ever saw him.”

Four untouched drinks at a table he leaned over, fresh sweat dripping down his forehead to trail down his nose as the last addison leaves him alone with their warning looming in the air. His freedom and agency had been meticulously toyed with just before his eyes, leaving him a trembling wreck, nervous about what other physical damage could potentially be inflicted upon him. [Heaven], if only he'd known…

The plastic of his segmented fingers finally located and slid around a pair of neatly folded white slacks. The listed size sounded promising, it all came down to just trying them on.

"Well, don't you think that's a little weird?" Tenna sounded like he was restraining himself from sounding too accusing. "There could have been something wrong. What if there was something wrong that could have been caught?"

"There obviously was, the more I think about it, the more out-of-place it seemed..." The blue addison spoke now, their tone drenched in regret. "But I doubt we could have done anything to help. We didn't have the faintest idea what he was involved in."

“And what if you did get to see Spamton again? What would you even say?”

The puppet’s eyes widened sharply and he froze in terror, one leg in the process of trying on the dress pants.

Don't. 

Cathode, don't even think about it! Don't tell them about me!

“We… what kind of question is that?!” It was the blue addison who spoke up, their indignation apparent.

“One I needed to ask before I can proceed with any type of partnership. Call it a what-if scenario.” Tenna definitely still sounded ticked, but in a lesser degree. “He was my business partner, after all. He told me about his coworkers cutting him off. I'd hope you have some positive things to say, but hey, this interview isn't being broadcasted. It's just for… reference! Does that sound fair?”

Spamton couldn't help but be intrigued now that the threat of being revealed was nothing more than in his head as he let out a subtle sigh of relief. Of course Tenna wouldn't reveal him unprompted, even if it was obvious he wanted to.

He lifted the slacks the rest of the way over his hips and slowly, steadily inched forward towards the shelf concealing him from the scene on the other side. Heel to toe, heel to toe, plastic puppet feet padded against hardwood floor, leaving his blazer crumpled on the floor behind him. He pressed a hand against the shelf, locking his fingers around a ridge and tried to ignore the large, boasting addison-shaped mannequin displayed on it that seemingly looked right down at him as if it was the only sentient thing in the room that spotted him.

His eyes tracked the pair of white gloves with gold accents displayed on its hands.

“Sounds fair.” [[Banner Advertising]] murmured.

“Of course we'd… We'd be surprised, at first.” The other continued. “There's no way we wouldn't be. He's been gone for a very long time… and we hope to see him again… one of these days.”

“If not to also clear some things up, get rid of some of the bleaker theories,” The orange one added in. “But we think about him a lot, and I know Clicks and Sponsor do too. We even–!” He let out a small, sad laugh, prompting Spamton to slowly and silently peek around the shelf concealing him, at the scene of the room. “We even set up a mannequin around where we all advertise, and sometimes talk to it just like it's another member of the team…! Isn't that stupid? It doesn't have a name, but it has clothes now. And a face. You'd think Sponsor gets the biggest kick out of it being there. Even Clicks doesn't mind it, believe it or not!”

With caution, Spamton had reached up over to the mannequin’s hands, getting on his tip-toes to do so, pinching onto the fabric of each of the gloves by the pointer finger and slid them off the display. They weren't Tenna's size, but if Tenna didn't like it, he could always alter his own sizing. Really, the real question was why Spamton going through the additional trouble to snatch them in the first place.

Maybe it was the comment about their castle town mannequin. Maybe it was the fact a fake imitation of him got clothes and respect from his peers before he got the same. Maybe the pettiness took over rational thought as he crammed the gloves into the pocket of his new pants.

Spamton looked at the expression of Tenna’s, and noticed whatever conversation that was filtered through while he had glitched after the basement confusion had caused him to tower over the salesmen. His brow was furrowed, but not in any rage or even pity, but out of curiosity, as if he was… hearing them out. 

Don't… listen to a word they say.

…

Don't.

…

Spamton held his breath, listening intently as the blue addison took a deep breath in.

...

“If I got to see him again… I'd tell him we're sorry. That I'm sorry.” [[Polling data]] stated, and their shoulders visibly trembled, blue glow dimming. The puppet felt ill seeing the orange program gently and securely take their wrist in his hand to comfort them. “We didn't think he'd lose everything. We didn't think it would get as bad as it did…! And when we pushed him away, we had no clue what would happen. He's owed an apology from us, even if he got to a place to make it big again. I hope to one day have the opportunity to… say that to him.”

‘He's owed an apology.’ No shit I'm owed some kind of an apology.

Spamton's fist balled against the shelf and he ducked back behind before a glitch nearly had him banging his head on its surface. To his utter dismay, unshed tears brimmed in his eyes and he frustratingly blinked them away before they could commit the ultimate sin of trailing down his face. 

…

It's because of you that I am who I am. 

You couldn't be proud of what I could do fresh out the gate! But who would be, if there was no accomplishment to be proud of? Because I wasn't made to accomplish anything! Someone had to give me false accomplishments that I didn't even have control of myself in achieving, but you couldn't even be proud of those! You couldn't even respect the fake ones!

You couldn't even be proud of an illusion. I gave up so much for that illusion.

Another unrelenting glitch had him gripping the shelf for dear life as the pixels broke apart in his face, nearly cracking his jaw out of place with how it persisted across his head.

My only accomplishment I've made for myself… my one true ultimate success… would you four have respected me while I was Neo? Of course you would have. There's only respect in size. After all, you could only tolerate my existence when I was lesser than you! When I'm trapped! Isn't that how it is?! If I'm trapped like one of you?!

You say that you'd want to see me again, but there's nothing on this side of the fountain that could ever prepare you for the fact I'm no longer one of you. 

…

What would you think of me now?

…

...

Would you say I deserved it?

Would you use what happened to me to justify it all? Make yourselves feel better about what you did? That it's a fitting punishment?

…Of course you would. Anyone would.

Would Tenna do the same? Is he doing the same?

…

He fell for it all too.

...

You each want different versions of me. The only parts I can't bring back.

...

“......erformance! Genuine regrets, heartfelt approaches, past references to familiar stars? They're all the marks of great showbiz.”

Tenna’s voice brought him back in the moment, and he forced himself to focus and narrow his mind on how it was faint in the static. Its newfound gusto latched onto his fuzzy mental state and dragged it out of the snow the more he was grounded, even if it was taking a frustratingly long time. 

“What tough acts to follow, see, if I was next in the lineup after that, I'd be shaking in my shoes. No, you salesmen got the knack of it all. You’ve really moved me! Despite it all, though, I think he'd appreciate it too… if he got the chance to hear it.”

Spamton looked up, his brow crinkled as the static continued to swarm his glasses. Their voices bled through and for a second it appeared like the mannequin above him was looking straight at him with judgement, as if it disapproved of him personally. 

“Infact, I–” 

It felt like Tenna’s words cut off in a strangled choking sound.

“Hey, is everything alright, Mr. Tenna?” The orange one of the two asked.

“S–... Kris’s glasses! He- Sorry, I mean they're not–! There not here…!”

A rustling of a gloved hand vigorously patting fabric then a frantic shuffle of shoes swiveling in a half-circle as Spamton tensed and took a couple steps back away from the shelf barring him from the other darkners. 

“They probably just dropped somewhere around here! Don't worry, it's not like they could grow legs and walk away!”

Before Spamton even got the chance to respond or think about how to solve his new issue with alerting Tenna he was right here, heavy and rapid footsteps fast approached his location and whipped around the shelf, the addison mannequin on top of it teetering with how quick he’d rounded it. 

Spamton instantly looked up to meet Tenna’s distraught screen, which relaxed upon seeing him, but just as quickly morphed back into fear.

“What are you doing–?!” Tenna hissed in a whisper at him through grit teeth. “Turn back n–!”

“Did you find them, Mr. Tenna?”

Approaching footsteps sounded from around the shelves and the puppet watched as Tenna looked over his shoulder and back down at him–

Before he was suddenly grabbed and lifted off his feet in a hurry, Tenna handling him much like a too-light doll as he swiveled around on a heel towards the other darkners and held Spamton tightly against his back. The action was so fast it left Spamton breathless and his hands shot up to the much larger one that was clamped over his mouth, and the other that held his chest. His eyes widened and a few pixels in his head glitched out of place as he had not expected Tenna to do that.

Really?! You couldn't have been even a little nicer with that?! Just because you're bigger doesn't mean you can manhandle me! Even if you ARE trying to hide me!

Spamton pressed the back of his head against Tenna’s upper back, making the unsuccessful attempt to get a breath in around Tenna’s hand, but the CRT just happened to tighten his grip around his mouth.

I'm not even done browsing yet, are you kidding me?!

Little too late for that.

“Yes, sorry! How clumsy of me, they must have fallen out of my pocket while I was browsing what you had in stock! Slippery little things, right?” The hand that held Spamton’s chest had let go to gesture openly, leaving Spamton pinned against Tenna’s back by only the one holding his face. It was terribly uncomfortable, and the puppet had the urge to kick his heels against the back Tenna’s legs to free himself. Spamton’s brow lowered as he glared upward, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into the edge of Tenna’s hand, frustrated that this mission of his had to be cut short–

But, accepting defeat, he condensed his code back into his glasses anyway, feeling his body flicker away as he narrowed in on his much smaller, more fragile, but most importantly, his most unrecognizable form to these oblivious programs. 

However, without the mass to hold them in place, the dealmaker fell when his transition into the frames was complete, and he could only watch as he clattered onto the hardwood.

“...Dropped them! Just… catering to a formula today, I suppose!”

Spamton watched Tenna twist back around and crouch down low enough to gently scoop him up in his palm, folding down the temples of the dealmaker neatly and sliding him fully in the chest pocket of his tailcoat. This effectively concealed the dealmaker’s vision and he could have spit a barrage of curses at the CRT for robbing him of the privilege of getting to see what was happening around him. Though it was tempting for sure, Spamton had narrowly escaped getting spotted by the addisons because of the quick thinking of his television partner.

He was… grateful to say the least.  

…

“Actually, I think I’m ready to check out now,” Spamton heard Tenna say, and heard him clasp his hands together loudly, as if he was acting off the stress of a near-collision. “Just that jacket for me! I'm remembering I should have come back at a more appropriate time when I've had the opportunity to convert all my remaining points. I'm sure you don't have a problem with points right now?”

“No, it's no problem.” [[Banner ad]] said with a noticeable strained enthusiasm. “In fact, I’ve had some TV world customers so far. There's a couple points to dark dollars machines here in town, the nearest one being by the tea shop. I heard they're temporary, though. The one downside is that they're easily confused with the regular vending machines.”

“You think you're getting a candy bar, but you're just getting a currency that's going out in a couple days…” [[Survey Results]] added. “They should have really labeled them. But that's just me.”

“Alright, Mr. Tenna, if that's all let me ring you up right over here.”

Spamton listened intently as the blazer was purchased, to find Tenna now strangely quiet and… tense.

I don't have to deal with any too-nosy multicolored slimes finding everything out. Explaining everything to them, or trying and being unable to. He saved me… a lot in that respect.

Still, the dealmaker knew when they got out of that store, he wouldn't be hearing the end of it for his little robbery. 

“Oh, hey Banner, I didn't know you were doing discount sales on your blazers…! If I'd known that, I'd be here already.” Spamton heard the blue advert say meekly.

“It's not for all of them, it's just for this one.”

“The one… Mr. Tenna is picking out?”

Tenna chuckled in the midst of obvious tension between the two advertising darkners. “What can I say? I guess I just walked in on good timing.”

After the blazer was purchased, Spamton heard Tenna turn toward the blue salesman as he draped the recently purchased coat over his arm. “I heard you're having a bit of a rough day selling shoes? Luckily I'm in the market as well. What’s your inventory like with dress shoes?”

“Oh! Umm,” It sounded like [[Polling Data]] was taken aback by the sudden interest, but just as quickly shifted into their own customer service voice. Like clockwork, these darkners. So quick to maneuver back into their programming and way of life. So quick to forget everything they'd just admitted. “Edible or non edible? We also have samples for the edible variation!”

Tenna laughed again, but it dwindled away as he realized the addison was serious.

Get used to it if you want to work with them, Cathode.

There's more where that came from.

Though Spamton could tell something about his partner had greatly shifted from his conversation with the addisons. It was how he laughed. It certainly wasn't genuine; it was a sharp, mourning thing that reeked of falsified security. Similar to how his smile appeared after Spamton came clean about the dealmakers and his benefactor.

There was no doubt Spamton felt like he was pushing him.

But, even if he was, it was like he had no idea how to stop.

Tenna had left the addison clothing boutique, holding the black suit coat over his arm, the shoe box under the same arm, and the other hand shaking at his pocket holding the dealmaker. He felt like that could have gone better, or at least easier.

Spamton had gotten loose, had taken the plans in his own hands, had almost got himself caught. His aversion to being seen by the addisons was obvious, but why would he take such a large risk for something so menial as clothes if his status as ‘missing’ was a priority to maintain?

He strolled down an alleyway once he was far away from the clothing store, and with a couple glances around to survey the area, slipped the dealmaker out of his pocket, dangling it in front of his face by one of its temples.

“You have approximately three seconds to come on out and tell me what the hell you were thinking.”

“OH COME ON [[Cathode]]! I DID YOU A [[unique ideas for party fav0rs]] DOING WHAT I DID! AND I GOT [away 4 the week3nd] WITH IT, TOO.”

“Thanks to me!” Tenna scowled. “You want to get spotted by the addisons, that's fine by me! In my opinion, they deserve to know what happened to you, but I get why you don't want a surprise reunion. I get it! I respect it! Why not?! But why didn't you at least let me KNOW about your little plan? Why didn't you let me know what you were going to do?”

If the dealmaker had eyes, Tenna felt it’d be glaring at him. As if the glasses had the same thought, and thought that he could just get his eyes back, Spamton reformed from them and appeared in front of him. Tenna nearly dropped the glasses with how unexpectedly quick he did it.

“I c;>COULDN’T [[deliver the goods]]     [To your house]!! THERE WAS A LITTLE BIT OF A [languange barri3r] AT THE MO;mE>NT!!” Spamton snarled, and angrily pointed up at him, still-forming pixels trailing behind him as he stepped towards Tenna. “AND I DID!! I TOLD YOU TO GET SOME [styles] AND THEN [get a room, you two]– GET. A.      [[List Address on Line1]]-   A [dresser assembly instructions required]–   A   [Dress for Your Occasion]—!! SON OF A [[$@&%#]]!!!!!” 

Spamton twisted to the side and slammed his fist into the brick wall behind him, making a dull ‘thud’. Tenna’s angered expression slightly softened seeing the ferocity of the little darkner, flinching at the sound.

Dressing room. He wants to say dressing room. 

...That would have been a really good plan, if he wanted to steal from them. I didn't even consider it, or understand him… I missed it. We should have talked it out first.

“BUT NO!! YOU HAD TO [get in on that sweet gossip] BETWEEN THOSE [[Traitoris Slimes]]. BECAUSE WHEN THEY [Cover the scoop] ON YOUR [Favorite]   [[Big Shot]], YOU JUST HAVE TO G3;>Tt INVOLVED!!” 

“They were getting the wrong idea about what I said yesterday, Spamton. You know I don't think what happened to you was your fault, do you?”

“WHY DOES IT [Matter] TO YOU WHAT I THINK? FOR [[All for $1]] YOU KNOW, I COULD BE [Blame game] YOU FOR EVERYTHING. WOULDN’T MAKE A [difference] IF I DID OR NOT.”

“It'd make a difference to me.” Tenna stated sternly. “Do you blame me for everything?”

Spamton’s expression twisted, his frown pulled unnaturally as he swiftly looked away from him, his fist trembling as it was pressed against the wall behind him.

“...NO.”

It'd explain a lot more... if you did.

The answer was given with hesitation, and with the way Spamton’s head proceeded to glitch, causing one of his hands to raise to grab a hold of his hair, Tenna couldn't completely determine if he was lying or not. The CRT wanted to remain optimistic, but…

“I could have done more to pick up on what you were trying to say. Or talked with you beforehand about what we were going to do. But... I mean, it looks like you got everything handled. You even picked out the shirt I was looking at for you.”

“NOT BECAUSE OF YOUR [Strict workplace regula]. I JUST NEEDED TO GRAB SOMETHING BEFORE [Time Runs Out!].” Spamton lowered his fist from the wall, glancing back up at Tenna as he spoke. “I SHOULD HOPE I HAD EVERYTHING [Handle with Care], I’VE BEEN [laying low] LONGER THAN I EVER WAS [[On Top of The World]]. YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO [Grab it before it's gone] ME BY MY FACE–”

“Right!” Tenna cut him off and loudly sighed off his frustration with the small puppet and tilted his head as he shared his look. “I panicked, alright?! You did not make it easy when you're able to disappear on a whim!”

“I WASN’T DONE-!” Spamton huffed and reached into the pocket of his stolen pants, taking out a small white item. “I KNOW A [[Labor of L;0,>>>      ]]-” His jaw snapped closed and he tried again after a pause. “I KNOW. AN ACT.   OF [[Genorisity]] WHEN I SEE ONE. BECAUSE OF YOUr   QUICK THINKING,  I DON’T HAVE TO [Relive the Glory Days] TO THOSE [[Nosy Nancys]] Just… yet. SO I [[Gosh, for that $$$? What a Steal!]]          [theese] FOR YOU.”

He chucked whatever he'd fished out of his pocket up towards Tenna, who caught the item flimsily in his free hand, but then his screen dimmed as he examined it, then brightened upon the realization, his mouth gaping open.

In his hands he held a pair of white gloves with gold lining. The same pair he'd been interested in the first and the most recent visit to the addison’s place of business. 

“Spamton, I don't…” He held them softly, so as not to wrinkle them, even if that pretense was already out the window from the gloves being stuffed in a pocket and then momentarily turned, with the puppet, into glasses. Still, this meant… a lot to him. 

You got these for me. 

“YOU DON’T [[Like it]]? TOO BAD!”

“No, that's not what I was going to say!” Tenna couldn't help but blush, clenching his teeth behind tightly closed lips before continuing. “I was going to say you shouldn't have had to steal these. Or steal in general.”

“WHAT ELSE AM I GOING TO DO?! IT’S NOT LIKE I’M [Made of $$$]?? IT’S A [Second Wind]- A [[Nature Reserves]]- A SECOND. NATURE.        TO ME. IT'S ONLY BUSINESS.” Spamton crossed his arms. 

Tenna was silent, his frown pulled into a thin line as he stared at the puppet below him.

“...BESIDES, IT’S NOT LIKE THOSE B4;cK>$STABBING    [Heathens] DESERVE A [scent] MORE THAN WHAT THEY MAKE ALREADY! THEY’RE NOT GETTING A [[Government declared fiat currency]] OUT OF ME AS LONG AS I LIVE, WHETHER THEY KNOW I [Coming to you Live] OR NOT. CALL ME A [Cheat], I DON’T CARE. I HAVE NO [buyer’s regret]. IT’S BAD ENOUGH YOU HAD TO [[Fork up Cash on the Dollar]] FOR [$&%#] THAT’S NOT EVEN FOR YOU. EVEN IF YOU [[owed]] ME.”

Maybe I should have worded it with I wish you didn't feel like you have to steal. But you still went through the trouble. For me. 

“...How did you know I wanted these ones specifically?”

“YOU THINK YOU’RE NOT [obvious tells]?  ?? YOU WERE [ogling] OVER THEM LIKE A     [Purebred Breeds] WITH A [Bone Cutlets]!!” Spamton smirked up at him. “I CAN [[Reed]] YOU LIKE A [slow moving teleprompter],    TENS.”

Tens.

His blush deepened at one of the many Big Shot-given nicknames, one he formerly thought was lost to the ages. His lips parted as his good antenna had straightened in surprise Spamton had even remembered he used to call him that.

Just as quickly as his reaction had come, Spamton’s smirk fell, then re-established itself as that too-wide grin that was ever so continuously present on his face. “OKAY, ENUFF [[Heartfelt]] [$&#%]. LET’S GET YOU TO YOUR [Company funded gathering].”

“No, right! But, uh, first!” Tenna extended the new blazer towards Spamton, along with the box of recently purchased shoes. “A big shot like yourself can't go out on stage half-dressed, right?” 

Spamton paused, his expression unreadable for a moment as he took the blazer in his hands and slipped it on, one arm at a time, buttoning the front at his waist and adjusting the collar of the shirt over the lapels of the blazer. It was a nice fit, not exactly tailored to his size, that much was obvious with how it was just a bit too large on him in terms of fit, but realistically no one that wasn't looking for small insecurities would notice. 

For a brief second, Tenna thought Spamton would be displeased with it, considering how he used to make a fuss if something wasn't tailored exactly to his liking, saying it would jeopardize everything he'd come to work for- but that didn't happen now. Tenna couldn't be completely surprised at that, considering how unfitting the last one was–

Wait. Where is the coat he was wearing before?

Spamton was too busy marveling at the white shoes he'd slipped onto his feet, how he tapped his heel-to-toe against the pavement out in front of him, as if he hadn't worn shoes in… who knows how long? The sound made a distinct ‘thunk-clack’ as he did it, and his too-wide smile softened enough to be genuine.

Combined with his impromptu ‘shower’ of the morning, he looked like a different darkner altogether, and Tenna could chalk that further up to how he held himself once dressed in something respectable and new. This transformation was probably making his entire day, or that's the impression Tenna got of him based on the smile on his face.

“How do you feel?”

“NOT BAD, [Cathode]. I FEEL LIKE A [[Million Dollar]]   [Kromer] INVESTMENT! EAHAHEAHEA!! SO NOT BAD.” He laughed, and just with that, Tenna got the reminder that even with the image upgrade, Spamton was still just as… different as he was when he'd first encountered him. 

But, shockingly…

…

…that was starting to bother him less and less.

The realization had his smile plummet immediately.

Is that bad? 

Isn't he worse off like this? 

It's not like I can do anything about it.

Oh, this is so messed up. How should I even feel about this?!

“[Thank you for your]       CONTRIBUTITION !! I’M [[Horrifyingly]]   [Greateful] FOR THE [Fresh finds]. FOR YOU HELPING ME LOOK LIKE A [[Camera-Ready Stud]].   [Don’t look under your seats], OR YOU’LL FIND MY APPRECIATION FOR YOUR [genorisity].” Spamton paced, not out of any noticeable anxiety, but it looked like he was getting the feel of his new shoes. “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

“You're not wrong about looking camera-ready. A front-row contender for the big screen.”

“OH PLEASE, I’D STILL NEED TO GO THROUGH [[makeup and costuming]]. DON’T [forget it! Forget it!] TO [[humbled]] ME ONCE IN A WHILE, ALRIGHT?” 

“No, really. You look a lot better. You look like you…!” Tenna offered, and Spamton stopped, standing still with his hands in his pockets. 

Or as ‘you’ as I remember. Maybe I could have worded that better.

...You look better than how you did holding the statue over my head.

Frenzied, unhinged, filthy, crazed.

...

Change the subject.

“You know, I'd say if we maybe communicated through the heist a bit better, we would have made a good team.”

Spamton slowly looked up over his shoulder at Tenna, then angled his body to face him, as if that statement piqued his interest. When was the last time he'd reflected on the success of his partnership with Spamton? 

…

‘He couldn't do anything without me, you know, we made a good team!’

‘HOW. GOOD. OF A TEAM. WERE YOU BOTH. IF. IT NEVER. EVEN. GOT TO. LAST?’

…

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT! A [tag-team] BUNDLE OF [[$&%#]].” Spamton belted out, enthusiastically. “YOU PR0v1dE   THE [Security measures] AND [hot surface] AND MAYBE THE DISTRACTION AND OTHER   [Stardom] STUFF, I COULD DO ALL THE [inventory stock] AND SALES.”

“If only we knew that earlier! Ahaha!” Tenna laughed jovially as he smiled when Spamton seemed to entertain the notion of them being a team again. “We could have coordinated it a bit better then.”

“IT’S nOT LIKE OUR [[prison sentence]] IN HERE IS [Completed Court Issued Time] YET. WE STILL HAVE [X amount] OF TIME BEFORE WE’RE [Home free]. MIGHT AS WELL MAKE IT COUNT.” Spamton smiled back at him, but then his gaze grew serious. “YOUR [gonna] MISS YOUR [Union Meeting]. YOU SHOULD GET TO IT.”

“Not without you, though.” Tenna extended a hand. “As long as you don't tumble out of my pocket without letting me in the loop of any of your rash last-minute plans first, I’ll let your lenses be outside my pocket, how's that sound?”

“[Fair] ENOUGH.” Spamton shrugged and closed his eyes, placing the dealmaker in Tenna’s palm. “SOUNDS LIKE A [Deal].”

Once again, the dealmaker became occupied as quick as it had before, and Tenna closed his fingers around it once his partner was gone. He positioned the dealmaker in his chest pocket then took his leave out of the alley.

Chapter Text

He shouldn't be feeling like this.

This level of stress and exhaustion, it was making his screen feel hot to the touch and the static fuzz amplified. He felt like all the color was washed out of his screen if he happened to display anything with contrast. Could be because of his anxiety about the situation, or rather an internal tube short. He didn't plan on stacking his multitude of potential issues, much less a potential shortage into his situation, but look where he was now.

Tenna didn't think a CRT instruction manual could fix the stage fright, especially regarding recent events. The addisons hadn't helped either with their dissent about Spamton, and though their apologies seemed genuine and regretful, he could see why Spamton wasn't flocking back to them. Tenna wanted to offer them the benefit of the doubt, knowing truly how heartwrenching it was to go through what they probably were going through because of Spamton’s disappearance, but…

They clung to their sales. That much was obvious. Maybe he felt like their situations were too similar, and that continuing to keep Spamton’s state in the dark was a bad move. Those first couple years, Tenna recalled, had him diving headfirst into his show, wracking up programs left and right, scavenging what his mailman left him to work with. Learning how to do commercials on his own, learning how to solo a tag-team duo act. Of course, with his already dangerously high level of voltage, would he get burnt out.

He wondered if the addisons were going through, or had gone through, something similar.

There wasn't a need to care right now. That's not what he was thinking about. He was nearing the cafe, and this was an opportunity to take his mind off of everything, talk with some of his fellow darkners, distract from puppets and phone calls and being unable to do anything about it. This was his first invitation he'd even got to a social event with the TV darkners since… well, it was too long in the making. They’d started finding themselves better off when his outbursts started, when everything started to look a little bit more… terminal for his career. 

Tenna needed to ace this. He needed to put on his best showman’s persona and pretend that he wasn't also thinking of his internal capacitors overheating, resulting in his malfunction. This level of stress felt like it could kill him even if he'd gone through harder stressors in the past.

Still he felt like he needed a dress rehearsal.

No, who needs a rehearsal for a little socializing?!

You do. You're too out of your element. 

Or at least a decent line read before we start rolling! Come on, you've done this before! Just… think about what you were like before everything.

Tenna’s shoulders wilted as he recalled an image of a younger, more boisterous television at a decent height in the game, certainly bypassed the peak (dipped definitely in quality), but still functional enough to make a statement. That time he was clinging to relevancy like a vice, but still the threat of being thrown out was minimal enough to the point where he didn't worry about it nonstop. 

He needed to be warm (right now he ran a little too warm, so technically check, but he reminded himself to dial it back), cheery (check, with his consistent optimism so far after everything he'd found out), patient (...check), and most importantly approachable and stable.

…

Tenna glanced down at the dealmaker in his pocket, just to confirm it was still there. 

He swore it was looking straight back at him, though there was just no way to prove it. The fact remained stagnant in gut instinct.

…

The picture of his past self continued in his head, but mentally he added another character.

He could almost imagine his mailman off to his side, soft white glow reminiscent of his own screen’s hue, smiling and gesturing towards a party’s entrance. A pilot for a new show had premiered and it had been a success with the lightners, so of course everyone in TV world had to celebrate and the invitation was extended towards his top advertiser. Tenna had been as warm to the touch that night as he was tonight, but at least at that time he was absent all the dust buildup behind his screen, so truly it was saying something about how warm he had been. 

Spamton had shown up, his hair professionally done, suit pressed, chest puffed out, back straight, as he waved around a cosmopolitan and talked to a group of pippins about his recent lobbying in the city. The addison spouted something with contagious pride about single-handedly delaying a merry-go-round pitch for public transportation in favor of selling the more prized, and latest, of his Cungadero models. 'Traffic increase be damned', in his words.

He was always busy, boasting his particular brand of je ne sais quoi about him around everyone whether they cared for his attendance or not. The answer was usually the latter, as off camera, the addison seemed... different. 

To Tenna, by all means, this was a good different! Sure, his speech didn't have that signature consistent spark about it. No, instead it was like he was just too loud when the cameras were off, as if he was having trouble estimating what volume his voice should be compared to the room he was in. His mannerisms, too, were oddly out of place with how shaky he'd be at times. He'd bounce his leg and grind his teeth, his eyes and lip would twitch as if he had to be conscious about holding a smile. He could be awkward but also charming and cocky, which majorly differed from his TV Time performances…

The signs were all there.

How much of it was truly you, though?

In Tenna's ignorant times though, he enjoyed listening to the addison ramble on, wanting to savor every little tidbit about this little off-camera mailman and had wanted to for a while at this point. Tonight, Tenna was going to tell him. Tonight Tenna was going to be honest about his feelings towards his signed employee–... his co-star. About his co-star.

So when he copped a seat with him on one of the couches in the green room, Spamton leaning back against the cushions as he finished his third drink of the night, that red blush sporting a vibrant contrast to his face and matching his suit in the way that gave Tenna what could have been butterflies to a CRT. 

Their hands were clasped at some point, as things usually began, his larger hands practically engulfing the one of his co-star’s, yet the sensation gave the golden scene an atmosphere of soft rose to Tenna. He then sweetly suggested that they retire from the party towards somewhere more secluded, like the Big Shot’s dressing room. Just the two of them, just enough company to enjoy each other to the fullest.

…

…He couldn't afford to be thinking this way right now. His hand was cold, absent the security of his little mailman to his side. 

...

This wasn't a helpful rehearsal.

Flexing his shoulders backward and taking a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth, Tenna felt himself ease, his overall height easing downward as well with his calm, centered persona. Tonight was about reconnecting with his former employees, as well as socializing with whoever this side of the fountain offered.

It was not about Spamton.

“...You won't be leaving again, will you?”

“WOuLDN;  T [[Dream Big]] OF IT, [Cathode Glow]. NOT A [Chance to Win]. SO DON’T WORRY ABOUT YOUR LOCAL    [LongTimeSubscriber] WATCHING FROM THE [[Boxseats]]! JUST GO AND SICK THOSE [[Branching Networking_opperunitties]]! I’LL BE HERE IF YOU NEED ME.”

“Thanks, Spamton. That means a lot.” Tenna couldn't help but smile downward, genuinely feeling comforted by the salesman’s presence even if it was limited to his lenses.

...It’s showtime, then.

Tenna opened the door to the cafe, and already the environment was comfortable, but overwhelming at the same time if that was at all possible. 

The first thing he noticed was the sound of jazz filling the atmosphere with a funky groove played from a jukebox. It was inviting, with only the brightest lights centered on the stage and around the register and bar area, as if those were narrowed points of interest.

Swatch, who he'd last seen a couple days ago, was tending to and conversing with one of the zappers and a rudinn respectively, if he remembered the names of the card world darkners accurately enough, and poured a pippins a drink as they talked. The cafe manager seemed to have missed him coming in, to his relief, as from ones of the revelations…

‘So Swatch, and the rest of the mansion staff? And the lightners.’

They knew. They all knew and they didn't say anything. According to Spamton, they're the first one that saw him and connected the dots. And nothing was done. 

To have such influence and capability in their world of origin, the capacity to make a world of difference towards a too-small darkner down on his luck, and willfully choosing inactivity and ignorance…

Tenna’s screen went blank as he looked at Swatch, his fist balled at his side and he instinctively slid it into his pants pocket.

Nothing I can do about it now. There is NOTHING I can do about it now. I need to focus on something else. Tonight is not about Spamton.

Tenna forced himself, albeit with a bit of struggle, to take another deep breath and took his sights off the cafe manager, shrinking down ever so slightly as he took in the remainder of his surroundings. To Tenna’s left were a series of tables, each lit by their own candlelight centerpiece, and occupied by a series of darkners from card, cyber, and TV world alike–

It really IS busy in their later hours. One of the things Swatch hadn't lied or misled me about.

“Oh hey, there he is! Boss! Over here!” 

Tenna turned his head in the direction of the loud voice to see Lanino waving his arm over his head, beckoning him over. Instantly, Tenna’s screen blinked back into brightness, his nose and mouth appearing as a broad smile overtook his face.

The weather duo sat at a table a decent distance from the stage with a shadowguy seated with them, nearby stood a pippins that looked as if he was on his way out but stopped by to make quick conversation. Although the table looked to be crowded enough already, as Tenna took the signal to walk over, he saw Elnina, acting fast, move a chair from an unoccupied table to make a spot for him.

Tenna walked past the slightly congested area, making himself smaller as he did so as to not topple over any shorter-than-average darkners, until he stood just in the height range of an average swatchling. Maybe it would contribute an added bonus to his approachability, and to mask over the fact that something had gone so horribly wrong over the last day. After all, he would have been in pieces if things worked out just a tad… differently.

“Look who it is!” Lanino continued, beaming up at him, as Tenna took the offered seat. “We didn't think you were coming!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tenna said with a smile as he fixed his tie and scooted closer to the table. “My first Invitation out on the town and I'd just pass it up? You know I'd never turn down the chance to see my one-and-only FAVORITE crew!”

“It's just that you seem busy, sir. We thought there was a higher chance of snow than the chance that you'd show!” Elnina leaned over the table, her hands in her lap. “But when the shadowguys said that you accepted their invite, we were just waiting to see if you'd be here!”

There was an affirmative chorus from the shadowguy at the table directed at Tenna, followed by a syncopated rhythm of his words, said behind his hand in confident half notes. The weather duo, and even Tenna, couldn't help but laugh at the joke. 

“I am not out any money!” The pippins standing at the table balked at the shadowguy’s jab. “I wasn't one of the ones betting he wasn't going to be here.”

“Oh see, that does it,” Tenna decided to play along, pointing loosely at the pippins. “How can I fire each one of you pippins en masse without having you contracted?”

“Sorry, boss.” The pippins crossed his arms and tilted his head up smugly. “You lost your chance! But maybe if you come to work for us, being me and the others, I can find that out for you.”

…Me? Working for my former employees? It's so silly but–

I guess that's how it is now. I’m no longer the king of anything, without my show. 

Its just temporary! Just… temporary. 

Be approachable. Patient. Friendly. Warm. You got this, Tenna.

Still, with his thoughts he must have looked like he'd hesitated, and Elnina lightly nudged his arm. “They think castle town would do good with a pool hall.”

“I bet they'll ask for dealers that can actually be trusted counting the money.” Lanino added lightheartedly. "I'd take it as a compliment!"

Tenna appreciated the context and looked back towards the pippins, noticing with a pang of humiliation how his hesitation had made him look slightly uneasy.

“Hahahaha!” Tenna laughed, recovering. “Well, I guess Anything is possible on this side of the fountain! Let’s see... Maybe I can build a decent resume with the experience I have as a gameshow host! It’d be a change of pace, that's for sure!”

“Let me round up some of us and we'll take a look at it then,” The pippins seemed entertained by having the upper hand over the former star of the TV world. “But don't think we'll be taking it easy on you just because you had us employed at one point!”

The comment was lighthearted enough, and the other darkners at the table laughed, but still things being so unequivocally different now was enough to make him think to take it otherwise.

“Of course not,” Tenna’s grin faltered ever so slightly. “What good would this second opportunity be if I had a leg up on anyone else? I'm looking forward to branching out my skills outside of entertainment…! For the time being!”

“Right you are to do so, boss! You won't believe everything you can do here, already! Oh, speaking of which–” The pippins glanced at another table, then waved at those seated, turning to walk away. “Back to my station, talk to you later!”

The pippins took his leave, and Tenna glanced at him joining another table with a variation of darkners, one even recognizable from cyber city itself. A virus darkner? If Tenna remembered correctly. The ones the ambyu-lances healed.

The shadowguy brought his attention back as they spoke up in a melody of mainly quarter and eighth notes, ending with a sharp, cheerful one as they posed their question. One phrase ended, another began and ended with a similar tone to the first as they gestured with their hand.

“Oh, of course I’ve unpacked!” Tenna waved off the shadowguy’s question, putting emphasis in his voice to try and make the lie sound believable. “We've been here for just long enough, I've had all the time in the world to do just that! Also, thank you for asking, I’m doing just dandy! Everything’s holding up for the better. I couldn't feel better if I tried!”

And I'm trying. I’m really, really trying.

“Well then you're ahead of us,” Elnina said cheerfully, snuggling up to Lanino beside her. “We’ve just been exploring the town and everything in it!” 

Lanino shared her affection, reciprocating the closeness as he held her hand. “Oh, should we tell them, my nourishing summer rainfall?”

“Only if we say it together, my ever bright ray of shine!”

Tenna couldn't help but smile, feeling like this was reminiscent of a time in the past, where he was with the people that cared about him most, and though he felt older and dustier, he had everything now that he had back then. His second in command flaunting over each other without any of the dramatics, his employees caring about him, his shadowguys performing live, Spamton right at his side–

…Almost.

…

The affection between Lanino and Elnina, for the first time in a while, rather than pride in himself for stitching the two back together with his board design, it… made him feel a twinge of… was that jealousy? 

Who knew what it was? Tenna wasn't sure if he could completely call it that at the moment, but he still didn't look at their clasped hands, nor focused on the way they held each other so close. He could be doing the same with a particular mailman, but there was no way said mailman would ever… agree. To him. Considering everything he was going through– or what they were both going through. 

…Don’t shrink again. They'll be able to tell that something's wrong if you do. 

Why would I anyway?! Nothing's wrong! I’m fine! That's why nothing's happening because I'm perfectly fine. It's fine.

“We’re already in the top ranks in the love dojo!” The two said in sync, and Tenna straightened up, genuinely wondering if they'd rehearsed that.

“Already? But it's only been, what, a day? A few days?” Tenna said, consciously maintaining the smile on his face despite his roaming thoughts.

“Yes, that's what makes it so amazing!” Elnina waved her hands out in front of her. “We’ve synced our attacks and it only makes us stronger contenders! And that just makes victory ours for the taking!”

“It’s so much fun!” Lanino chimed in, their combined sunny and gusty energy definitely contagious. Or at least it’d benefit from having a weather alert be broadcasted. It made Tenna curious to try one day going, though he wasn't much of a competitive player in anything. He’d rather be at the head of it all, the overseer, the host, and the fighting dojo seemed to be a stable self-led community place, where a host wasn't needed.

“We’ve had the time of our lives!” Lanino continued. “Though there has been a challenger that's been throwing us for a bit of a loop lately.”

“It’s just a lamp–”

“A semi-attractive lamp-”

“But it's no big deal-!” 

“It's not like we'll turn down a challenger, no matter what!”

“Our latest move is looking to be a hydrologic outlook-”

“With a higher-than-usual UV index. Remember to use sunscreen!” 

“After all, now that we're completely in sync-”

“We can give them a full weather forecast they'll never forget!”

The pair said their last line together, and giggled in amusement with each other afterwards, murmuring “I was going to say that!”’s over the other, as they leaned into each other and shared a small, tender kiss. So it appeared everything was getting back to normal with his second-in-command, and that the lightner-caused rift in their relationship had been resolved with the fountain’s closing. 

“Sounds exciting! Something that will get viewers on the edge of their seats,” Tenna said optimistically. “Or something that would interest the lightners when they come back.”

“Well, of course that's the goal,” Lanino said, distancing from his cloud-like lover. “But we also do it to have a good time and because we want to!”

The shadowguy let out a string of notes in agreement, relating with their own situation. An excitable phrase in a fluctuating key gave the description of them learning to incorporate an electric saxophone into their performances, only because it sounded fun. Tenna noted the absence of rests as they seemed really excited about trying that out, as well as more instruments.

The only issue was that Tenna hadn't had anything of note to say back to it, as… something sounding fun seemed a little far-fetched if he wasn't on display for the lightners. He needed an audience, and it devastated him that nothing had the same appeal. 

It was like he couldn't find joy here. But if his use had run out, then... then what?

It was at that moment a group of shadowguys, one definitely being the cat-like one he'd spoken to earlier that morning, decided to crowd around the one at their table, and in a flurry of saxophone-sounding chords, nearly pulled the one that sat with them out of their chair. They all spoke over each other with excitement, saying that it was almost time they were on stage and that a trio of cyber world robots were setting up the sound. Funny enough, Tenna couldn't recall ever having met this trio–

It was so quick they'd left, weaving around the tables of seated darkners, as if they were really getting down to the wire that they were scheduled to be up. They all left in such a rush that they'd almost collided with a swatchling that was making her rounds across a variety of tables, with a notepad nestled in her hand.

I didn't even get to wish them good luck. Oh well, I'm sure they'll do great! They all did the music for my show, after all. They're the best of the best.

The approaching swatchling had calmed down her feathers from being fluffed up with a slight shimmy of her head, and fixed her suit, obviously startled by the barrage of shadowguys that had nearly trampled her seconds prior. She raised her notepad with a smile.

“Welcome in! Can I get some drink orders from you all to the fro-”

She cut herself off as she looked up from her notepad at Tenna, more specifically just… below his screen. At the chest of his tailcoat, where the dealmaker was displayed. There was the thought he could hide them again, but what were the chances of other darkners knowing about Spamton’s new deal with the lightners? Spamton hadn't brought up that anyone was aware he was the dealmaker… right?

“S-sorry! Lost my train of thought.” The swatchling’s hospitable warm orange hue dropped dramatically down to a light green, as if chilled before her attention redirected down to her notepad. 

“Hey, happens to the best of us!” Tenna said supportively. “Busy night, it looks like!”

“It is!” She chirped, her hue cooling down further from a light to a mid green. “What will we be having tonight?”

He hadn't even had a moment to look at a list of options since the last time he'd stepped inside the cafe, much less a menu. As a last ditch effort, he was now glancing at a miniature one propped up on the table, similar to the one listed at the front. There was the temptation to indulge in something alcoholic, it might take the edge off and force him to at least look like he wasn't more tense than a cord pulled so taut it was hanging onto its outlet by its prongs. Tenna wasn't going to lie, though. Something just sweet enough would also be just as good.

This feels wrong to order something for just me.

…He's here too. 

Lanino and Elnina ordered for themselves, entertaining getting a shared milkshake that came with a pair of straws, but ultimately decided against it when they argued over whether it should be warm or cold.

There were a list of battery acid drinks with fun-sounding names, similar to the one he'd had a couple days ago. There was one that sounded like the ratio of sweetness to acid was going to be wavering in sweetness’s favor.

“If that'll be all, I can take those to the front.”

“Wait, one second,” Tenna interrupted. “I’ll have your raspberry shocktail, and–”

…

And?!

He'd said ‘and’.

He paused, nervously adjusting the cufflinks on his tailcoat as he reflected on the notion he'd said ‘and’ without a fail safe or confirming with the dealmaker that he'd be ordering for it too. The thought passed his mind that he shouldn't have ordered at all, but he was miserable at this. Surely, something from this morning could help him out in deciding something for his little mailman.

I want him to be included. He's going to be included. One way or another.

“One glass of battery acid, as is.” He said, stiffly, as he tapped a finger on the table in front of the dealmaker.

“That I can do!” The swatchling jotted the four options down in her notepad, but he saw her color change to a teal blue. “Give me a moment to get those out to you all!”

As she left, Tenna glanced in her direction, and saw as she walked up to Swatch at the counter. Maybe it was nothing. They certainly reacted like it was nothing. 

“Expecting someone else, Mr. Tenna?”

It was Elnina that spoke, and Tenna had registered his screen had once again gone dark before it flickered back into brightness to respond to the smaller darkner’s question.

“Oh, I've… uhm…”

Lie.

“I’ve… recently made a friend in the past couple days staying here. I hope he makes the decision to appear tonight, but you know! Some things don't happen according to plan! Ordered the extra drink though to be considerate–”

“You met someone-?!” They both said in fascination and glee. Considering a handful of darkners knew each other already due to their worlds crossing over a handful of times, this was probably surprising for both of them.

“Already?! Details, sir! Details!” Lanino said impatiently, giving him a slight shake of his shoulder. “We have to know the details!”

“W-well–!” Tenna floundered and gestured outward with his hands as he talked, suddenly potentially regretting taking this route. “H-he's on the shy side right now, but I'm hoping he opens up a bit more and feels more comfortable as everything pans out,” His face was warm, he could tell. “So I can't reveal too much too early, understand?”

“Oh, we understand,” Elnina opted in, and rested her chin on her propped up hands as she looked at him cheekily. “You just let him know that you have a group of eager friends that can't help but be excited to see their boss get a fresh start!”

That made his heart seize up in his chest.

Fresh start. As if I've moved on.

…

It's still Spamton. I want to tell them it's Spamton but…

…

The way he left so suddenly… and how it got me to act with them.

He probably doesn't want to be seen either! It's not like he HAS to explain what happened to him. I can do that now! If… he wants me to.

Still, the idea of digging up those emotions from the morning made him feel exhausted already. And then…

The last thing Tenna wanted to see in his preferred idealized script of tonight was the action line ‘dredge up old memories of the raging, destructive asshole you used to be to probably the last darkners on your side of the fountain who gave a damn about you’. 

If he saw that written on a finalized draft, he'd be suspending whoever submitted it without pay.

Okay, then I’m not doing that.

“I will, if I even need to. You’ll think that he knew that already with as much as I talk about you all! Hahaha,” Tenna laughed, adjusting his tie nervously to try and think of something to do to get his mind off of it. “I just can't be prouder of my favorite crew, especially after you all saved my life.”

Luckily, he didn't have to think too hard as the swatchling had returned with their shared selection of drinks, placing them down on the table in front of them. Tenna got two placed in front of him, and he thanked the swatchling enthusiastically. As she took her leave with a smile and a bow, he saw she'd herded together a small flock, many who, between serving drinks and food the cafe had to offer, were making passing glances at him. 

Beads of sweat appeared on the side of his screen as he was observed, no doubt because of the dealmaker in his possession, and so out of defense more than anything, Tenna redirected his attention towards his magenta-hued beverage, sparking with that fresh voltage, and took a drink. It was heavy on the syrup, and gave him that much coveted sweet kick that was semi-distracting and caused his antennas to straighten from their previous crumpled state.

“Any friend of Tenna’s is a friend of ours! Now I'm just excited to meet him!” Lanino twirled his drink in his hand as he pressed. “Tell us at least what dark world he's from, so we can have a hint to narrow it down?”

“S-sorry! No can do! I really can't say much more than that!”

“Okay, okay, we won't ask you more, but we're staying curious. You can't predict the weather, after all."

“You know how we are,” Elnina giggled. “We have to have a minimum seven-day forecast planned in advance! How are we going to plan for future events if it's all so unpredictable?” 

“I can't. I'd… like to tell you! But it's not my choice to make,” Tenna glanced down at the dealmaker, still motionless, reflecting the stage lights and atmosphere of the lively cafe in its lenses. Part of the television darkner hoped he'd show himself about now… just for a second.

Tenna glanced up, to where Swatch was at the counter, to find that they weren't even looking in this direction, instead putting their focus on cleaning a glass in their hands. Maybe they weren't onto him at all.

You shouldn't have to hide. I don't even understand why you do. You do realize you being a key item and helping the lightners is enough to warrant respect, right? This is your home, too! Or… ‘home’ is… iffy, but it's the place you're staying. And you have me in your corner! You have me. You do have me…

…I wouldn't let them hurt you again. Or throw you around, treat you like some discarded doll. You look like one now, sure. There's little denying that. But that doesn't mean you should have to reduce yourself down to being treated like one. You've been through enough of that, I can… I can tell.

You're more than that. I knew you when you believed it, too.

This… ‘hiding from the world’ business…? I can't emphasize how much it doesn't fit you. 

It certainly doesn't explain why you're so against being discovered. What did you do, Spamton?

…What happened while you were gone?

And was it worse than what you tried to do to me?

“B-but enough about me and whoever I’m carrying around! Ahahahaha! WHY don't you tell me MORE zany details about these rankings you're both–”

Tenna’s forced diversion was interrupted by a low onslaught of energetic music that erupted through the cafe’s lowkey atmosphere, the jukebox's contribution dwindling out as its turn in entertainment was passed like a torch. The CRT could sigh in relief in having the attention now be completely off him and his shoulders fell slack.

The saxophone-led band of shadowguys were already on stage, with another on piano, drums, vibraphone, and bass guitar. In total six shadowguys basically swarmed the stage and had started an upbeat, jazzy number that he'd never heard before. It hadn't even been on his show or gone through his approval, no, this number was a complete original of these darkners.

The vibe switch-up was electric, with a handful of darkners getting up out of their seats at their tables to go and witness the shadowguy band up close or indulge in some dancing to the newfound groove. Tenna couldn't shy away from the smile that appeared on his face as he tapped the table to the beat of the drums that established the rhythm in the cafe as if he was back sitting in sound check hearing something similar before his broadcast started.

“They sound amazing! Like a fiery display that single-handedly dialed up the heat!” Lanino exclaimed, the flames of his suitcoat burning ever brighter with excitement.

“Oh come on, my radiant moon, let's go make some waves! We don't need to warm up for this!” Elnina got up from her chair and basically pulled Lanino to his feet, to his elation, and they quickly began to quickly walk towards the clearing in front of the stage. 

“I’ll be right here when you come back!” Tenna called, to really no one who was listening, save for that one he hoped was. 

He watched his former employees go with a sigh out his nose and took another sip of his drink, tasting that tart sweetness on his tongue. The music kept him entertained, and he tapped his fingers alone at an empty table as he listened along.

They were looking right. At. Him.

Not at Tenna.

At him.

...

The dealmaker could have been sweating bullets if it were possible with every passing glance the former head butler of Queen’s mansion made in his general direction, the feathers on their neck fluffed up just enough so that he'd notice they'd caught onto his position. Surely they recognized their predicament then if that was the case, and how this appeared in a grand scheme to all parties involved. The internal battle to remain civil and keep their head in their new position as cafe manager was most likely quarreling with the need to see him out personally and immediately.

Spamton had been watching Swatch the whole time, and hadn't seen them pay him any mind until a swatchling that was just talking to Tenna (about something he hadn't been listening to) spoke with Swatch themself. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a customary nod from the cafe manager and a slight wave of their hand. But when conversation started up again at their table, Swatch turned their head in his direction, and when their gazes met, the bird's feathers bristled and eyes narrowed. 

There was no doubt in Spamton's mind they knew he was here.

However they couldn't prove a damn thing as him being the dealmaker was the best disguise he'd gotten in the books. Imagine trying to make someone’s pair of glasses leave a community gathering. How pathetically petty did someone have to be to die on that sort of hill? Part of Spamton just wished they'd try it just to see how their customers would react. 

Come on. Break that too-polite, too-charming persona of yours, Paletta. Let your patrons know what you really think of me. 

…What are you waiting for?

You hate me. I know you hate me. You want me out of here. You want to know what I'm planning.  

No, you're too smart. You know this is a stalemate. You probably know you can't do anything.

They'd turn their attention away from his direction to tend to the surrounding customers, and proudly display a grin that was forced but very well practiced, as if they'd personally adopted their role as cafe manager as their overall purpose. In between these moments, however, was their returned observation of him at Tenna’s chest pocket, and they narrowed their eyes at him in suspicion as if they had a smorgasbord of ideas in their mind of his potential plots.

Well I've given them a list of what to expect. But I’ve never… roped anyone into the basement plot successfully before.

Who would have guessed Tenna is the first sucker that'd fall for it? He’ll get me into Neo, I’m sure of it! Take THAT, [Easels]! You birdbrain! You can't keep me out of there when I have a sizable CRT at my side! Just try it! 

Or… wait, he would have or– 

…

…

Dammit! Fuck. Basement. No basement.

Cafe. Swatch. No basement.

Stop it. 

…

Get back on track.

Why hasn't Tenna noticed that they've been looking over here yet? 

His television partner felt tense, but he'd been tense all night long, as he laughed along with his weather forecasters. They'd been talking and he'd missed it trying to keep track of Swatch and whatever they were going to do. The cathode’s attention certainly wasn't in the same field, as he sipped at his drink and–

Wait. Did he order two drinks? 

Tenna looked around and up at Swatch, and Spamton had noticed Swatch avert their cold gaze away from Spamton as he did. Immediately, dawning realization came over him, and if he'd had eyes in the present moment, they would widen.

They don't want to look like they know I'm here. Not to Tenna. 

That clever fucking prick! 

…Why, though?

It was at that moment the music picked up and surrounding lights dimmed, brighter ones casted on the cafe’s stage, and a low saxophone note seemed to echo through the crowd. Conversation skimmed to a halt among multiple tables, including Tenna’s own conversation with Lanino and Elnina as everyone’s attention centered onto the stage. Not Spamton’s though, as he tracked [[Easels]] with everything in his might to keep the brawny bird in his sights. He'd narrow his nonexistent eyes now, and his lenses flashed in hostility. As long as Tenna didn't turn away–

Just then, a chorus of multiple instrumentals blared through the comfortable candlelit atmosphere, in an upbeat swing that instantaneously had some darkners already tapping their feet against the floor and drumming their fingers against the tables. The groove would have been intoxicating to anyone that had attended the cafe tonight in the mood for some live music and socialization, and it was apparent in how Tenna tapped his fingers against the wood of the table too.

Spamton looked at his partner’s too-large hand in front of him tapping away, then up on stage, to see six shadowguys performing in joyous harmony, obviously taking in the full extent of the spotlight. 

The energy to the cafe had greatly shifted once the performance had begun, and Spamton noticed a handful of darkners in groups had moved from their tables towards the clearing in front of the stage, where they danced to the concert taking place in front of them. 

They're not important! Focus on [Easels]!

Still…

The liveliness and splendor was nostalgic… in a way, reminding the dealmaker of the old parties he'd attend with Tenna, how he'd fixate for days on getting his suit properly pressed by the mansion's staff and would follow it by stressing and sweating over not looking the part of the Big Shot once it came to his attendance. 

Appearances were all that he had in that situation.

…

After all, in those times, he wasn't on camera, so his strings would stay relatively lax, and he'd be able to use his own voice, so that was the problem. Each and every time he'd had access to his own body as if it were a recreational use, he was positive this was the night Tenna would distance from him, find him uncharacteristic and deem him a stranger. He couldn't falsify an advertised out-the-box charisma preceded by witty one-liners by himself like he did when working. He needed the input from the one above him in order to accomplish that. 

He remembered he practiced infront of the mirror after watching back a marathon of his commercials, one after the other, just to feel assured and sound that he'd perfect the imitation of himself when he had to recreate it. Still, he was always off. There was something his benefactor could do with him that he had no way of replicating. It was an emotion he could inflict upon viewers, hell! It impressed him too! But nope! When his strings fell slack, he was back to his miserable fated failure of a self.

However… Tenna didn't… seem to particularly mind. In fact, the TV seemed more open, more content and receptive, as if he expected a delivery of more perfect lines that wouldn't ever come to be. For the longest time, Spamton had thought Tenna had been onto the fact he was a fraud, because by no means was he a decent actor, in fact the phrase ‘Sorry I wasn't acting like myself! Too much to drink, you know? Guess I didn't know my limits as much as I thought I did’ was a career staple and a personal lifesaver in that respect.

But with the way Tenna behaved around him, how he'd leaned into him, taking his chin in the space between his thumb and forefinger and tilting it upward as jazz music blared outside his dressing room… Spamton’s thoughts had completely changed.

…

Maybe he had been a pretty convincing actor. 

…

He played the role of his strung-up commercial-and-talk-show persona awfully well if Tenna had been the one to advance on him like this. There was no way the television would share a modicum of interest in a shady stunted addison, whose back alley deals were the only thing keeping him afloat once upon a time.

Tenna certainly wouldn't be holding his lower back in a gentle embrace with his opposite hand, as Spamton reciprocated his advances with ecstasy and zest, if he'd thought the one on stage and the one here now were different drivers at the wheel.

Tenna wouldn't have steadily grown in size murmuring his soft, repetitive monologue of how he ‘always wanted something just like this’ as he leaned in further, kissing the salesman with passionate vigor, gently laying him on his back on the dressing room sofa as he took all the charge he needed to bring the big shot down as his soft kisses traveled down Spamton's lips to his neck, over vocal cords that were at this point rented and contracted out. He wouldn't be doing this if he'd known that email was never going to bring him back to relevancy in the first place and that this thing they had was useless from the get-go.

Spamton wouldn't have been kissing him back on his screen, feeling that soft, tender fuzz of static if he felt any remorse about writing out mental, unwritten letters detailing just what strings of words that had come out of his mouth were actually said by someone else.

He'd feel the regret later- that regret was for his future self. After all, he had hooked in the Lord of Screens with his acting prowess in the moment. Once Spamton had been scrambling to find some purpose and identity where he was seen in a negative light, now he was basking in the love and affection of a King of an entire dark world. His co-host. There were few things Spamton could actually believe, the majority stemming from what information he'd been passed through the telephone line, but this… this was unheard of. He–

…

He wasn't supposed to have this.

…

This was…

He’s a dead man. 

I know he's a dead man...!

...

“Spamton? Hey, earth to mailman, you there?”

The dealmaker emitted a short, bitcrashed drone of a sound as he came to, and if he could blink away his thoughts, he'd be doing so. The scene hadn't changed much since his thoughts took over him except that–

Swatch.

They're gone.

The place at the counter had been filled in with another swatchling, one a yellowish-green in color. 

They're gone?! 

Where'd they go?

“Good…! I, haha, I thought I lost you there.” Tenna slipped the dealmaker out of his pocket and unfolded the temples, setting him up on the table in front of him. He then held a corner of his head in a propped up hand as he leaned over the table. The much larger darkner looked down at the glasses dejectedly, despite his obviously faked chuckle.

I can't let Tenna worry. I can't let him know [Easels] knows as much as they do. What are they going to even do, anyway? It's not like they can do a damn thing…!

“NO, I’M [[all accountable]] FOR. LIKE I SAID! I’D BE RIGHT [Hear].” Spamton looked frantically around the cafe as much as he could, not seeing the flash of black and white who may be plotting to approach him at any time. “ARE YOU… [[Having fun]]?”

“Well, sure I am…!” Tenna drummed his opposite hand against the surface of the table and sighed, a prolonged and pathetic melancholy thing. “Why wouldn't I be? This is… this is great! They seem to like having me around again, so mission accomplished…!”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU [[Smaller portions]] THAN USUAL? EVEN TO ME, [Turn Right] NOW. SERIOUSLY, THIS IS A LITTLE [Much more] FOR YOU.” The dealmaker paused before connecting some more observations of the night. “WAIT, DON’T TELL ME [your] DOING THE WHOLE [Short charged] THING FOR THEM, ARE YOU?”

“No, that's not it,” Tenna took a drink from his glass and looked back up at the stage as he swallowed the beverage down roughly, his face pinched. “...Maybe it is. A little.”

“WELL STOP IT.” The dealmaker huffed, with an unpresent glare in his words. “IF THEY CAN’T [Handil] YOU AT YOUR [Biggest Hot Tub sales This Weekend Only], THEN THEY DON’T DESERVE TO b;3   AROUND YOU AT ALL.”

Tenna fell silent and his frown only got more pronounced on his face. The nonexistent glare had evaporated and Spamton near-immediately regretted his words, even if he truly meant them.

“THAT’S NOT THE [Main course] REASON THOUGH.”

“No, it's not. It's…” Tenna breathed deeply in through his nose and seemed to hold his breath as he spoke. “It's you.”

“ME?! WHAT THE [homemade fudge samples] DID I DO THIS TIME?!”

“No, not that! Spamton, it's… Look, I just can't help but get to thinking how… much better it would be if you were here. You know, as… you.”

“...[But wait, there's more]. I AM HERE. IS [that] NOT GOOD EN;uF FOR YOU?”

“Trust me, I'm happy you are here, but we can't really enjoy it together if you're going to be hiding as your glasses.”

“IT WASN’T ABOUT THAT an;YW@ysS! IT WAS ABOUT [Corporate overlords] LIKE YOURSELF [[Reconnecting the social circle]]. GETTING THE [Hamstring stretches] OF [[Interfacing with your Boss]] BACK ON SCHEDUL.”

“But you have to admit it's unfair to you-!” Tenna swiped a hand out in front of him. “This isn't right–! You live here too! You shouldn't have to… make yourself small. For their convenience.”

“OH DON’T [panties in a twist] THAT ON ME, [[Cathode]]! THAT’S YOUR PERSONAL [hang up!]! I’M NOT MAKING MYSELF [[So small it's barely noticeable]] FOR [$&1%S] AND GIGGLES, Y’KNOW?! YOU THINK I LIKE NOT HAVING LEGS?! I JUST CAN’T BE [Seen by the masses] OR ELSE I’LL BE     [Personal❤︎Escorts] OUT OF HERE. I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE [[Live reading instructional videos]] RIGHT NOW.”

“...So you're going to make me sit here and drink both these drinks all by myself?”

“HEY, I DIDN’T [[Order should be delivered Tuesday]] THEM. THAT’s ON YOU AND THE STATE OF YOUR [[leftover funds]].”

He did eye the untouched glass of pure battery acid on the table, as well as the unfinished drinks left over by the weather duo. There's nothing more the dealmaker wanted than to just kick back in his new suit, prop his feet up on a chair, and sip at the acid drink as he reminisced with the television darkner of parties long forgotten in the late nineties to the dawn of the new century. 

“You know, you don't have anything to worry about, right?”

“...YOU’RE REALLY [Trying] TO GET ME TO [[Show up with a limousine]], AREN’T YOU?”

“No, nothing that fancy. Haha! Just–” Tenna cut himself off, probably realizing this wasn't the best time for his snarky jokes. “I stand by the fact it's just not right. Just because you got evicted out of the mansion by conveniently the same person that runs this place, it shouldn't mean that you're banned. It's a new establishment, isn't it? You should be exempt from being tossed out!"

“THEN YOU DON’T REALLY KNOW [[Easels]]. AND I DID A LOT MORE TO [Dessert] THEIR [anomisity] THAN JUST GETTING AN [Eviction notice] PASSED TO ME. IT’S A [all the cards are stacked against] ME SORT OF DEAL WITH A [[Perma-Ban]].”

“What if I explained your situation to them?”

“THEY KNOW MY SITUATION.”

“No, not the puppet situation. The lightner situation. The fact that you've been given a second chance..! That you're helping them. That you're using your abilities for good now…! That Kris likes you enough to recruit you personally–”

“DO YOU SEE KRIS [Anywhere in the facility]?! NO?! THEN IT WON’T [Mattered]! THEY DON’T CARE AFTER WHAT I’VE DONE! I GOT NO [[A lawyer will be provided for you]]–”

“And if I defended you?”

“I CAN [[$%#&ING]] DEFEND MYSELF! I DON’T [knead] YOU [begging & pleading] MY CASE TO A [monochrome] WALL THAT WANTS ME [[Deader than a doornail]]! SO [[layoffs]] IT, OKAY!? [$&%#]! CAN IT WITH THAT [[@&$%]]!!!”

Tenna looked crushed by that and gradually shrunk down more, slumping with his antennas wilting over his face. “Y-yeah…! No, I get it. Nooo problem. I guess I still don't know how bad it got for you.”

Where the fuck is [Easels] at?! Where's their palette? I don't see any swatchlings anywhere! What are they planning?!

Despite the nagging fear, the dealmaker felt a surge of guilt to see Tenna in front of him no bigger than your average addison, his arms crossed in front of him as he sulked and sat slouched over the table. He looked, without a doubt, like he was about to cry.

Fuck. Shit! Fine! Sorry! 

“...I’M SORRY. I SHOULDN’T [Have it in stock] YELLED. AT YOU.”

“Don't be. I really don't know how bad it got for you. I'll be honest, Spamton. It's all… it's all I've been thinking about. Ever since I found out you were you. I just keep coming up with scenarios in my head about what I can do to make it better, since I can't change you back.” Tenna sighed again, shakily, as if he were fighting back tears, and rubbed his wrist. “What are they going to do to me if you were caught with me? They can't tell me to leave…! They're sympathetic about the knight! What could they do to me? They can't do anything.”

It must be so nice for you. 

You can't be picked up and thrown out on a whim.

“So maybe I just want to… exist with you again. You deserve so much more than this. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, you know.”

The dealmaker could have sulked, but stayed silent, entirely unsure how to take that. It was a foreign thing… having someone in his corner. It made him feel like he was living up another farce of some kind, and that Tenna was falling for it. It didn't feel natural. If anything, it felt like a luxuriously prepared dish when food was already scarce. He should be cherishing and savoring every bite, ideally and on paper that seemed appropriate, but he was starved and cornered, so just being in the same room with the prepared dish was enough to cause him to freeze up in another mental struggle between instinct and expectation. 

…I want to exist with you too.

It's just hard.

You'll never like me like this. You'll never like me. I KNOW you. I know you won't! You'll see what I'm like ripping you apart. You'll see everything about me that I've worked so hard to hide. Every morsel of me just up for grabs like I'm some all you can eat buffet! You already have seen some of the worst things I never would have wanted anyone to see of me. You know things too, which makes it worse!

…

“...You remember how we used to dance?”

…Yes. We did when we were drunk, too.

“I WAS [More Bang for your     ] [[inebriation tests]]. ALSO MY SHOES HAD [Heels]. BUT YES.”

“...If I asked if you wanted to dance, what would you say to that?”

…

I can't, Tenna.

Once they see me, they'll…

The jazz song on stage cut off with a sharp, loud explosion of saxophone and there were resounding cheers and whoops from the audience, complete with heavy applause. It was enough of a reaction to cause hesitation between both the television and the dealmaker as they awaited what was next.

One of the performing shadowguys got up to the mic and with a resounded, slightly tired, tune of steady whole notes in a diminuendo, said they'd be slowing the next few numbers down a notch or two. Back on the sax they went and a lighthearted piano filled the setting with a newer, fuller atmosphere, still upbeat but at a much more leisurely pace. 

Tenna’s face dropped and a color bar blush flickered onto his screen. 

Not even Mike could have had better timing.

…

What the hell? The moment I see a swatchling it's back into the frames.

Sounds like a plan.

…

You won't let anything bad happen to me, anyway.

“We don't have to, Spamton. It's okay, we can just–”

“I’D SAY I’D [Chances of Lead contamination]-   LEAD.”

Tenna looked back down at him, his brow raised in surprise.

“You'll… what?”

“YOUR QUESTION. [[Dance the night away]]. I'M NOT BEING [Traces of lead] AROUND LIKE I'M ON A [wearing a wire]. THAT’S THE [Only Way] WE’RE DOING THIS. I LEAD, [Ray Tubes]."

“Ohoho,” Tenna perked up with interest, a faint glimmer of a smirk appearing on his face. “And how would you do that, Big Shot?”

The dealmaker destabilized, an oscillation of computerized code appearing around them as they rose into position, until Spamton felt his form stabilize into one, but very uniquely his, central body. 

His shoes were planted on the wood of the table as he stared down at Tenna, and a wide smile graced his face as, at first, he didn't know fully what to do with himself except glance around, expecting to be lunged at or snatched by the back of his jacket or by his neck and pulled away–

Nothing happened.

…

Tenna was looking at him with utter shock, as if he was expecting they were just going to banter about their made-up situation, not actually figuring Spamton would have wanted to follow through with it. Already the regret was welling in Spamton’s chest at his action to turn back, and the urge to run egged at his mind, abandon it all, book it out of the cafe and throw himself in the nearest dumpster to burrow beneath bags of trash so that the swatchlings persuing him wouldn't catch onto his location–

That wasn't the case anymore as Tenna’s screen glowed brightly and his good antenna twitched. He had to commit to this cowardly act of revelation. That was the hard part, but if he could do that, he could do anything.

Come on, Big Shot. Show him what you got!

So Spamton extended a hand towards his seated partner.

“I’LL SHOW YOU [Prices$Too$Low$To$Mention]! OR I’LL…” He trailed off, his extended hand tensing and fingers curling manically. “I CAN GIVE IT A [Honist]   [[Attempt]].”

Tenna grinned, fully, gratefully, as if he'd won some sort of internal challenge of getting him out of the dealmaker, and he took Spamton’s hand, getting to his feet. The television’s size worried him, as with the aid of the table even, Spamton stood slightly above him, but also this brought the puppet a fair amount of relief. 

You're staying this size. Give me a fighting chance, at least.

“I keep forgetting about your new suit. You look really… great.” Tenna’s brow crinkled and he cleared his throat. “I meant to say something with a little more pizazz to it. ‘Great’. Who am I? Ahaha, I meant like snazzy, dazzling, top of the world. Sorry, I'm not really behaving like myself tonight.”

“I’LL TAKE [[Wedding Cake Topper Options]] OF THE WORLD. YOU KNOW I COULDN’T HAVE B3c4;MME A   [Hot Spuds] WITHOUT YOUR [[Assistence at Checkout]].” Keeping a firm hold of Tenna’s hand, Spamton stepped down onto a chair and then finally to the floor, looking up at him. “YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE A [Real Geunine Featurette] OF A [[Kind of a Big De4l]]-” Spamton paused, tapping his foot in irritation.

Try again.

“YOU. MADE. ME FEEL LIKE. A BIG DEAL.”

“You are a big deal, Spamton. To me.” Tenna grinned warmly, clasping Spamton’s hand tightly. 

The height of the CRT then started to rise, causing Spamton to yank on his hand as he pulled him towards the clearing in front of the stage, around several other dancing darkners. He'd stopped growing, thankfully, but Spamton had a feeling he wouldn't stay like this for long as he (hopefully, if everything went according to plan) cheered the television up.

Oh no you don't, TV.

Like I said, you're giving me a chance here.

For someone who hadn't worn shoes in a long time, Spamton was…

...

Okay, he's exactly as bad at this as I would have thought.

Tenna wouldn't think this aloud, in fact, he considered it amusing and entertaining. Adorable even, in the slightest of ways. That cocky can-do attitude from his mailman was definitely there, in glimmers that shone similar to spilled oil splatters in rain puddles. It was the more colorful parts of his personality, one Tenna would never get tired of seeing, but was it the most pleasant thing to look at? 

Yes and no.

Spamton moved rigidly, as if he was not used to a position of control or hadn't been exposed to it in a long time, and Tenna was going to ignore the obvious metaphor about a stringless puppet that came to mind as Spamton lead their dance with the biggest grin on his face. 

His footwork was just off-rhythm enough to cause Tenna to dial into the conscious placement of where his own steps landed, as to not rough up his mailman’s new shoes. Even with this, that goal didn't have a predetermined easy difficulty linked to it. Still, there was something about Spamton that seemed like he was getting the hang of it all as he held Tenna’s hands securely in his own raised ones, as if he was remembering old, forgotten patterns of having done this before. 

Despite having done a fair amount of dancing himself, and being familiar and knowledgeable, Tenna was always doing his dances and short-term jigs solo-style. To have a partner, much less a partner of Spamton’s skillset as rusty as a tetanus-damning nail left out in the rain too long, needless to say this was already looking like a real physical challenge.

But he didn't think it was possible to enjoy it any more than he was in the current moment.

Spamton stood slightly above Tenna’s midsection, and though he wasn't towering over the smaller darkner, Tenna decided to at least follow his direction with smaller, patient steps, more akin to shuffles in light of Spamton’s more hasty, unpredictable ones. Maybe this was for Spamton’s benefit, or perhaps for his own.

It's not like I've been on a dance floor in awhile either.

I probably look as ridiculous as he does.

“IT’S NOT [[New Years Resolutions]] [©1999], BUT AT LEAST IT’S SOMETHING! RIGHT, [Cathode]?”

Tenna snickered, his screen so vividly bright with sheer joy and amusement it was shining off Spamton’s glasses. “We were probably a lot more coordinated then, or at least I was.”

“[Listed coordinates] DOESN’T INCLUDE THE [80 proof hard seltzers] YOU DOWNED JUST BEFORE HITTING THE [Dance Floor], YOU KNOW THAT.”

“Of course I do,” Tenna smiled down at him as he brushed the toe of Spamton’s foot when Spamton had stepped forward rather than off to the side like he'd expected he'd do. “...Can't deny it helped me not feel like a complete fool back then. Wish I could say the same now! I guess I've just lost a bit of the style I used to have.”

“EAHAHAHAHA! DON’T [be thinking] LIKE THAT!! CONSIDER THIS MORE OF- MORE OF- MORE OF- MORE OF– A;a  A   [Once in a blue moon] [[Comeback Specil]] FOR THE AGES!   BACK AT THE AUDIENCE AGAIN [Live]!” Spamton cackled, and his head glitched out in a few jolted bursts of fractured pixels, and Tenna’s chest felt cold as the puppet’s grip on his hands became momentarily tighter before the glitch passed. The heavy glitch did more than just cause his temporary corruption even if it was only a second long, but also disrupted their dance as he came to a stop.

Spamton’s brow furrowed, obviously frustrated with being interrupted in the way he had, as his smile was strained and his upper lip twitched in annoyance. Tenna wanted to offer some words of consolation, if not encouragement, but it was almost as if Spamton could have predicted the incoming word spew, and his energy resurfaced as continued the dance, looking up at him with a smile and an embarrassed glance off to the side as if that hadn't happened.

Spamton then confidently and wordlessly led Tenna into a spin at his hip, seemingly wanting to put his focus back into the task at hand.

The recovery was clumsy, but the much taller darkner eventually caught onto what Spamton was trying to accomplish, and followed through the best he could, doing a full spin on his heel before rejoining a pair of their hands. The unexpectancy of the move caused Tenna’s smile to come back in full sincerity, ignoring the light glitches that flickered across the side of Spamton’s face.

The weight of one of Spamton’s hands that had caught and was pressed against his hip was enough to cause a blush to flicker on his face as they continued their graceless escapade.

“You know, maybe this comeback special could benefit from a dress rehearsal. We’re certainly not the best at this, but y–”

“H;3yY   HEY!! SPEAK FOR YOURSELF. THIS IS [[Top Class acts]]! A R3aL   [[Spamton G. Branded]]       [Masterclass]!!1!   YOU’RE NOT GOING TO F;1nD   [Airline Safety Procedures] MORE [Well rehearsed] THAN THIS!” Spamton returned to their jaunt of a sub-par performance by sliding his hand off Tenna’s hip and rejoining those hands, taking a step back. It was followed by Tenna clipping the side sole of his shoe with his foot and the puppet making wider steps to accommodate. “THIS [15-Step Program] COMES AT AN [exclusiv] BARGAIN BIN PRICE.”

“Hey, you don't have to tell that to me. I'm taking advantage of all of it. That is to say, I'm having fun!” Tenna said matter-of-factly, with a slight sing-song in his voice. 

Spamton led him into another spin at Tenna’s hip, and with the repeated motion from before, it was easier to follow the spin as they'd swapped places and rejoined hands. It looked as though the salesman was trying to do everything but get Tenna to do a conventional under-arm twirl. Still, they were in no means the most conventional dancing duo, even with Tenna nowhere as tall as he was usually.

If he tried though, I certainly wouldn't mind. I'd make it work. 

We’re doing this together.

"You know, if you wanted to spin me, I could duck down." Tenna chuckled. "Just say the word."

"YOU COULDN'T [[Shrinkage in the dryer]] DOWN JUST A LITTLE MORE?"

"I can't make it too easy for you, you know. You never did shy away from a challenge! Still, I know you want to."

Spamton's face turned red for a second as he rolled his eyes with his grin still plastered on his face. "FINE. FINE! IF YOU WANT ME TO SUFFER. [[𓅭 𓅰  𓅰]]–!" Spamton grit his teeth, but looked like he wanted to laugh too at the sound that came out of his throat, a restrained chuckle coming from behind his teeth instead. "I MEANT. DUCK."

Tenna had started to laugh at the ad, but was cut off when Spamton extended his arm as high as it could go, and Tenna lowered down, crouching at the knees enough to allow himself to be twirled under it. It wasn't the most graceful display, Tenna making it look like an oddly improvised limbo at one point, but it was fun, and Tenna shot back up onto his feet right after, rejoining hands once more.

Guess those morning stretching routines paid off in the end. I knew they weren't completely for nothing.

"Nicely done!"

"YOU TOO." Spamton's gaze softened and continued on.

“It makes me want to tune in to more featured episodes of this shared comeback special of ours.”

“OURS?”

“I mean, that's what I thought you meant!” Tenna nodded, and his screen glowed. “We’re partners after all, right?”

Another subtle glitch took over Spamton’s head, swapping the colors of his glasses as he continued with his poorly placed steps. His balance was off-kilter, but at the mention of their partnership, his face lit up in an excited, exaggerated grin.

“WELL OF [Coarse textured] WE ARE! WHO ELSE IS GOING TO SIGN THAT [multi-factor authentication] TO GET ME INTO THAT [[Best Shape of your Life]] BODY? [Smanta Claus]?? DIDN’T THINK SO.” 

There's talk of that body again.

Spamton swayed happily in a half circle, and Tenna followed, really examining Spamton’s face after that.

“I… ahaha! Didn't think that's what we were planning, actually? What do you mean by that?”

“WHAT? YOU’RE MY [[one way Tickit]] TO THE BASEMENT [[Access card: Denied]]! YOU D0n>>t    THINK I COULD GET AROUND THESE [One of many colors] BY MYSe;eLF, DO [U]??      ??”

Basement?

“We’re not going to a basement…? Avoiding swatchlings, sure, but I don't know where you got that idea. Unless you mean something by it, that is! But it didn't sound like an ad.”

Spamton’s smile dropped and he looked mortified, his dance slowing into a side-to-side sway as he looked down, brow pinched. A slight glitch contorted the features of his face, swapping the colors of his glasses back to how they were, with a few straggling glitches left over.

“...Spamton?”

The puppet had opened his mouth to respond, but the song playing on stage seemed to amp up in its energy, signaling a beginning of a finale, and Spamton’s brow rose again right as the glitches subsided. He looked as if he was going to do something drastic, or at least planned out at the last minute.

“Spamton? Ahaha, what's with that look?”

Saxophone melodies swelled, and the accompanying piano’s tune thundered on through the cafe, making everything feel electric and light. Each note landed like another breath of air the space was taking, Tenna's own growing short. Before he could predict what was next, Tenna was pulled, guided by a careful but adamant hand and rotated at his hip as Spamton repositioned and braced his footing.

Before he could entirely process what the puppet’s intentions were, Spamton’s arm was wrapped around his back and one of his hands was clasped with Tenna's to stabilize him, performing a risky, but eventually successful dip.

Spamton held him securely, and if he was struggling due to the CRT’s weight in comparison to his own, he did not show it whatsoever. Tenna’s screen was fully aglow in bewilderment and surprise, not to mention warm to the touch. His back was arched and one leg was splayed out in front of him, the other awkwardly bent to compensate for their height difference, but Spamton had been successful- at one thing at least.

Talk of a mysterious basement became a faraway thought in Tenna’s mind at that moment.

It felt like there was a spotlight over the two, even if, like any other pair of darkners on the dance floor, they were shrouded in the dim glow of the cafe, save for the brightness of Tenna’s screen.

No, they weren't the stars of this performance, or any performance anymore, and there was a heavy doubt they'd ever be in the limelight again after everything, but in just the few seconds Tenna looked up at Spamton, he felt twenty years younger, more energized and unburdened by the realities of irrelevancy and their shared aggressions with eachother. Gone, for just a brief breath of a moment, were tragedies of knights and puppet masters, of torn posters and figurines and unspoken secrets, of rotting glass and changed numbers on a discarded rotary phone…

Tenna wasn't even sure what version of his partner held him. Was it the disfigured stringless puppet like the one who he'd come to know again over the last few days? Or was it the little out-of-place addison that had lived rent free in his memories and consciousness for years on end, causing the progression of the most heartbroken years of his life?

…It was neither.

It was just Spamton.

He just saw his little mailman.

A flower bloomed at the end of Tenna’s nose, practically bursting into existence, the speed in which it did sent a couple petals fluttering to the floor. Around the petals, Tenna observed Spamton’s eyes on the other side of his glasses and how they were wide with disbelief or perhaps shock that he had been able to pull that move off. His too-wide smile was more of a relaxed frown, and his face was flushed with a light pink. 

But almost as if the strain of keeping Tenna above ground was too much suddenly, or he was burdened by coming back into the reality of it all with the end of the background’s song, Spamton tilted his head down, the glint masking his eyes once more. His hands were shaking. Tenna had just noticed his hands were shaking.

Spamton had pulled Tenna back up in a slower movement than what he'd performed to lower him down, and Tenna followed through, putting his full trust in his partner before wiping away the flower at the end of his nose with obvious embarrassment, more petals taking their leave to the floor below in their own choreographed descent. 

Cheers and uproarious applause from the audience followed the shadowguys’ number ending, and Tenna, after glancing around, joined in with his own clapping. His heart beat remained thundering in his chest, as he was still mentally in the moment of being in the confident, secure hold of his very focused mailman. Who…

Wasn't clapping. In fact he looked down, wide eyed, as his hand was clamped over his chest and gripping the fabric of the front of his new blazer in a trembling fist. The stage lights reflected off his mirrored lenses, continuing to mask his eyes, but shone off the beads of sweat at his forehead.

“...H-hey, you alright?”

“I CAN’T [belief] I DID THAT.” Spamton shut his eyes tightly and his opposite hand raked through his hair as he smoothed it back. “[[Heaven]], I’M… I… I’M SOr–”

Another glitch interrupted him and he cursed around the visual contortion, taking a side-step to recenter himself before he stabilized again, looking away as if in shame.

Oh, no. I'm not allowing that.

Tenna, feeling a surge of perhaps protectiveness, perhaps nostalgia or maybe even excitement and adoration for the moment Spamton had made for him only minutes ago, scooped the small salesman up in his arms. Spamton made a small sound of surprise, but ultimately didn't protest, even as Tenna started to rapidly grow from the shorter-than-usual height he'd found himself at due to his thoughts from earlier.

“That was so much FUN! You Killed it out there, Big Shot!” Tenna spoke genuinely, throwing a couple of his own fun vocal quips in there with added sound effects. He'd had his arms crossed infront of him, Spamton perched on his forearms with his knees pressed against Tenna’s chest as he faced him, and Tenna tilted his head down, lightly pressing his forehead to the one of his little mailman in bliss. “It's not every day I get to do that…! Especially not with you. But… gosh after so long! I didn't think I'd actually get to dance with you again.”

There was instant hesitation from the puppet in his arms, and Tenna felt him become surprisingly tense, but slowly, Tenna felt him press his forehead back onto the screen, a hand gracing the side of his face. The CRT started to walk away from the dance floor, uncaring for those around him, his only focus in the world being the one who he wanted back in his life more than anything. Anybody else could move for him if they needed to.