Chapter Text
Nobody ever said that hosting your own TV show would be easy, and there was no fine print or disclaimer that flashed warnings about how grueling the process would be. See, for Darkners, entertainment was scarce and came in small doses, and not everyone sought for it in the first place. Which was totally fine! However, as a CRT, Tenna emerged from his former cardboard prison with an undying desire to entertain and have an audience sitting in front of him and drinking his words like fine wine, awe plastered on their faces as he stood before them on stage with unshakable charisma and charm. It was his purpose! If not fulfilled, he saw himself as obsolete and useless.
He decided to start his own TV show, which seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. Imagine that, a TV on TV! He had gone great lengths to establish his own studio, hire a team of workers who would keep the show going behind the scenes, and even some who would enjoy the spotlight with him! Yet, the majority of his hard work had gone down the drain as he began to see the ratings plummet as the days went by. No amount of gameshows, incredible comedic timing delivered by yours truly, or explosion special effects (which took up most of the budget) made people interested enough to watch him. His pockets were empty, and so was the audience.
Tenna began to feel incredibly downcast, and his confidence had been slowly destroyed every time Lanino or Elnina informed him of the popularity of their show, which was never high. In his dressing room, Tenna was sitting in his red chair that sat in front of his vanity, resting his head on the wooden surface in a moment of anguish and despair.
Behind him, the weather duo reassuringly patted his back in a synchronized rhythm. “Cheer up, boss. I’m sure they’ll come around eventually.” Elnina said to him encouragingly, however the look in her eyes proved otherwise.
Tenna didn’t respond, he only readjusted himself in the chair and let out a hopeless, pitiful sigh. Elnina paused, then looked at Lanino with a shrug, then left the dressing room with Lanino at her side, leaving Tenna alone in the darkness of his room. The slam of the door behind her was all he needed to remind him of how alone he was.
“It’s hopeless.” He muttered to himself, lifting his heavy head off the flat surface of the vanity. “This whole thing is a bust! I’ll just tear down the set and be done with it! Cancel the show, take me off the air forever since nobody cares!” He wailed, however he knew that he was making an empty threat. He had worked too hard, and this was all that there was for him.
He just had to find a way to make people tune in, make people actually adore him. He had to make himself bigger, better, and more popular than ever! He gazed into the mirror in front of him, allowing himself to survey his own appearance. Was it how he looked? Was he out of style already? He wore black, square frame glasses that had ‘TV’ engraved in silver beside the hinge of the left lens, a dark blue button down shirt paired with a golden yellow tie, and a black suit jacket over it that he left open as a miscalculated fashion statement. And of course, the silver TV pin that was nestled by the lapel on his suit jacket.
That couldn’t be it. It was just him. Everything about him was just wrong. As he looked at his reflection of his own weary expression, he noticed the corners of his mouth had turned downward in a pathetic frown. In retaliation, his mouth twisted into a snarl, and he rose from his seat and gripped the edges of the vanity with fury.
“Get a hold of yourself, Tenna! These Darkners are counting on you!” He yelled at himself, a sad display of a man’s breaking point. However, the anger didn’t last long. He released his grip on the mirror and sunk back down into his chair, feeling defeated.
I need a drink. He thought, readjusting his glasses that had slid down his cone shaped nose during his mental break.
He decided to take a daring journey to the rapidly developing Cyber City- which Tenna had begun to loathe as computers were starting to rise in popularity in the 90s, the flashiness and bright lights that enveloped him in the city were nothing compared to his yellow tinted homegrown nostalgia and feel good programs. However, as he walked down the sidewalks, trying to find a bar that best suited his turmoil, he hated to admit that he was impressed by the grandiosity of it all. Neon billboards, bright red cars sped past him that blared unintelligible electronic music out of their stereos, and crowds of people adorned in the latest expensive fashion.
As someone who was always regarded as very tall and large, Tenna suddenly felt very small. He could feel himself shrinking a few inches and his antennae unintentionally dropped down as he realized how out of place he was. He shook his head to force himself to snap out of it, and straightened his collar with a smile and continued walking.
Just get a drink and get out of here. Simple as that. The idea of a drink started to sound unappealing as he realized his moment of indulgence would be soured by feeling like a fish out of water.
While he was in his own head, a small Darkner had accidentally rammed themself into his knee and huffed in annoyance. Tenna looked down at them, shooting a remorseful and apologetic look he hoped they’d understand.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Gah! Watch where you’re going next time! Little guys like us don’t wanna get trampled by giants like you.” They huffed and pushed past him. Tenna didn’t even get a chance to properly apologize, and the sudden acknowledgment of his size was another reminder to how much he didn’t belong.
He shrank an inch again. This was going great.
He managed to walk down an alley without bumping into anyone else or shutting down from being too overwhelmed, and had lost all sense of direction and had no idea where he was going.
“I should’ve just stayed in my dressing room! Hah, look at me, thinking I’d actually be able to find my way around here. Just shows how well this is all going for me.” He kicked a can that had been thrown haphazardly beside the dumpster he had been standing next to, and watched as it hit the opposite wall. As he watched, his attention was immediately caught by a colorful poster that was hung on the wall.
On it was a white Addison with sleek, voluminous hair that was pushed back, and was wearing a bright red suit that seemed to glimmer in the lights above the poster. He had a confident grin on his face, and was driving one of those red cars that had whizzed past Tenna earlier. The text on the poster said “BIG SHOT SPAMTON - BECOME A BIG SHOT TODAY!” With a number underneath it that had been scrubbed off from wear and tear.
Tenna’s antennae perked up as he studied the poster. This was it! This was his chance at making it big. A hopeful smile crossed his screen, he had a new objective. Find Spamton. He continued walking, and had ended up in a busy plaza that was occupied by a crowd of Addisons, which was promising. The majority of them were posted outside the bar, and for some reason, he was sure that this would be the place he’d find that inspiring man on the poster.
He entered the bar, and strided towards the bartender, choosing to ignore the looks of surprise he got from every person he walked past. The pink Addison who was standing behind the counter was no different, her eyes widened with surprise as Tenna approached her with a wide grin and fidgeting hands.
“Hello!” He greeted cheerily, pushing down his nervousness with a gulp he hoped wasn’t obvious. “I was wondering where I could find a man by the name Spamton.”
She was unresponsive for a moment, looking him up and down once more before she coughed and feigned a smile that Tenna knew all too well- it was similar to what he wore when he was in front of the cameras.
“Wait, are you that guy that’s on that cheesy late night TV show?” She suddenly erupted into laughter. “You’re already a classic! That is too funny! Your name is… Mr. Tenor, right?”
Tenna’s screen darkened and his antennae drooped over his screen. He certainly did not expect to be humiliated the second he made conversation! However, he had to keep it together. A good host always did.
He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Actually, it’s Tenna. And yes, that’s me. Back to my question, do you-”
“Sorry, yeah. Spammy is usually by the jukebox over there,” She turned her head towards the back of the bar, and gestured with her puppet-like hand. “Gonna take a lot to pry him from that thing.” She continued rambling, and Tenna tuned her out and looked next to the jukebox, catching the eye of the small white Addison who was standing next to it with an acid green drink in his hand. He noticed Tenna looking in his direction, and stared back, the pair remaining like that for a long moment until one of them decided to look away.
Tenna looked away, and returned his attention to the bartender. “Thank you for your help.”
He made his way to the jukebox, awkwardly standing on the opposite side of it, thinking it would be too informal to stand next to Spamton. He was also nervous to be near him, after all, he was sure that he held the key to his success.
“So, I heard you were looking for me.” He heard Spamton’s voice from the other side. Spamton abandoned where he was standing and walked over to stand next to Tenna, and Tenna tried very hard to not notice how much he was having to lean down to maintain eye contact with the man. “What brings you here, big guy?”
Tenna was unresponsive. He could say so many things, but nothing that formed in his head sounded right.
“What brings you to me?” Spamton pressed, a smug smirk lining his face. His expression made something in Tenna feel funny, and he could feel himself shifting on his feet anxiously. If he could sweat, he would have been drenched at this point.
“W-Well, I happened to come across one of your posters in the alley. And- great composition by the way, I really love the colors- and, I couldn’t help but feel…. inspired.” Tenna explained, stumbling over his own words. Meanwhile, Spamton’s expression was unwavering. In between Tenna’s pauses, Spamton would occasionally go “uh-huh” or “hmm”.
“You see, all that talk of being a big shot, it made me think about what my life could be like. My show is underperforming, and my ratings can’t get any lower.” He pushed up his glasses, a nervous habit that was instilled into him. Spamton noticed this, and his grin got wider. “What I’m trying to say is..”
Spamton chuckled. “You want my help, that’s it. I get it.” He smoothed his hair down with a smooth gesture of his hand. “I knew that poster would work eventually.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing.” His smile never faltered, and the rosy hue to his cheeks never dimmed. “So your TV show is going downhill, you’re down on your luck, you come to a bar to drown your sorrows, and you think you’ve found your saving grace.”
Tenna found himself nodding despite wanting to continue his front of confidence, which was barely held up in the first place.
“I want to…”
Spamton inched closer to Tenna. “You want to be a big shot?”
Tenna nodded again. And Spamton just started laughing, which annoyed Tenna greatly.
“Look, if it’s too much trouble I can just get out of here. I don’t want to waste your time with my… lousy television show.” He grumbled, turning his head away from Spamton.
“It's not lousy. I watch you, and you’ve got something special.” Spamton said, which made Tenna’s mouth hang agape in shock. “Mr. Ant Tenna’s TV time. You’ve got a catchy jingle and everything. You’re just lacking the goods that’ll help you reach that stardom you deserve.”
Tenna could feel himself getting hot, he had never been flattered in this manner before, especially by a man he had just met! However, he was a little perplexed as to why Spamton already sounded on board with helping Tenna despite not even hearing Tenna’s pitch yet. Well, saves him time, he guessed.
“Will you help me?” He asked, looking down at Spamton who beamed brightly up at him. “Please?” A tinge of desperation edged his voice.
Spamton paused for a moment, deep in thought. Then, he outstretched his hand. Tenna took it between three of his fingers, and Spamton managed to shake them with a surprisingly impressive strength.
“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Ant Tenna. We’ll work out the deetz later, but consider me as happy as a clam to be workin’ with ya!” He then released his grip on Tenna’s fingers.
“Oh, uh, you can just call me Tenna. No need for the formalities if we’re going to be working together.” He was surprised at how easy this was- no negotiating, no long conversation about his objectives, no questions asked about himself, it was just a straightforward yes.
Spamton laughed. “Alright, Tenna. And say, are those glasses for decoration or something?”
“Oh, no. My vision is really blurry without them!” He laughed nervously, yet Spamton did not laugh with him.
“When you’re with me Tenna, you’ll start to realize how much of your old things you don't need anymore!” Spamton said, which resulted in Tenna continuing to laugh, he didn’t know why, he just found it funny. Spamton joined in with him, and their laughter seemed to be all that filled the bar.