Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Down on the set, beneath the glaring stage lights, the towering figure of a larger-than-life TV personality (or rather, a TV with personality) stood. A giant compared to his subordinates, the other Darkners scampered around him like worker ants - lifting and carrying, climbing up on his shoulders to add a little polish to his screen or cover up a scuff mark. The evening was still young, but the moment was fast approaching; yes, any moment now, that angelic voice that heralded the start of the show would give them their cue.

And as it did every night, it all had to go perfectly. Perfectly. Without a hitch. Without a single mistake.

“Ugh, I swear this girdle is getting tighter… ” Tenna huffed to himself. “...All these cooking show marathons for the holiday season… if this bloat doesn’t let up soon I’ll be fit to burst… ”

From somewhere else in the dark, someone else snickered audibly. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d overheard something potentially scandalous on a hot mic; and it wouldn’t be the last, either. With the amount of gossip they overheard, they could tip the odds so much in their favor it was practically cheating… any of their peers would have their heads literally spinning with the possibilities. But they weren’t like their peers; the other Pippins. No, they’d always been a little different - a little more odd than even, as they said.

They had a job to do.

“Mike - sound check, please!”

“On it, boss” Battat said to no-one in particular, sighing to himself. His chair rolled across the floor as he moved towards the sound desk, abandoning his TV Dinner. Or was it Breakfast? He’d lost track again… ah well, it was very nearly cold anyway. He’d zoned out again and forgotten all about it, he could finish it later-

The ice-cream! Don’t forget the ice-cream, you dummy!

Battat shook his head at the sudden, intrusive thought. Yeah, that’s right, his dessert - if he didn’t grab it, it would melt everywhere, and he’d be faced with an even more unappetizing plate of TV Slop.

Thanks, me, he thought to himself. Kicking off the edge of the control desk with his legs, he rolled back, plucked the cone from the foil cafeteria tray, and-

“Love it when you do what I say, Mike. Really appreciate it.” Tenna’s voice sarcastically growled through Battat’s headset. “I said SOUND CHECK! Is this thing even on!? HELLO?? Please don’t tell me we’re on mute again… !”

Rolling his eyes (and getting a six), Battat deftly flicked his headset microphone down into position with his right hand, and gently pressed the glowing red Push To Talk button with his left hand.

“Mike says you’re all good, boss. All systems go, we’re on in five.”

“Ugh, finally! I swear I have to do everything myself around here… ”

Tenna clapped his hands twice; standing at his full height, the sound was more than enough to catch the attention of every Darkner on set, but they knew what it meant. Everyone find your place! Everyone get out of Tenna’s way! Everyone look busy!

Meanwhile, Battat sighed again, dumping the rest of the half-melted ice-cream in his coffee, and grabbing a straw from a nearby pile of discarded containers that was probably clean enough. Do everything yourself?? Pff, yeah, right.

Even from all the way up here, watching what was happening on a grid of monitors, Battat could feel the nervous energy emanating from every corner, from the Green Room to the Backstage to the set itself. Tenna might be the shining star of the show, but it was every other Darkner that kept him from falling out of the sky. And he might be the guy calling the shots, but “Mike” was the one working the magic… and Battat had stepped into that role like he’d been made for it.

Hard work. No cutting corners. No boozing, no schmoozing. That was what made him different. That was what gave him purpose.

Lights. His fingertips danced across the control desk like a seasoned maestro at his piano, filtering and focusing, adjusting color levels and saturation. Cameras. Like a general looking over lines on the map, he surveyed what he could see on 2 and 3, giving the order to Shuttah to zoom out in anticipation. The intro Battat had spent hours slaving over - and then even more hours slaving over again as they “corrected” their “mistakes”, nevermind the fact they’d just been doing what the boss wanted until everything changed - was ready to roll.

Any minute now. Any minute now they’d hear Toriel, the Queen Of The Dreemurr Household, utter those immortal words - “Settle down now, children - it’s TV time!”

Any minute now, they’d-

POP! CRACK! RIIIIIIIIPP…

Battat froze.

Whatever that sound was, it had just been picked up by every single microphone on the set, as had the shocked gasp from every Darkner who’d been facing in Tenna’s direction. Apparently this morning’s segment on Crafting The Perfect Gingerbread Monsters For Your Holiday Celebrations had been one show too many. The poor, abused girdle he’d always denied he wore had been pushed over the edge; he was clutching his abdomen with both arms, hiding his shame as his screen flushed bright pink.

Battat hadn’t touched a single switch, not a single button - but as they often did, things just kind of happened. Sirens blared. Behind Tenna, the green screen flickered with animated flames, and colorful word art spelling ‘WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!’ twirled and danced.

A Wardrobe Malfunction!? He screamed to himself inside his head. He had to move, he had to do something, but somehow he couldn’t even speak. NOW?? But we’re on in four minutes!!

The green Pippins didn’t even have ears, but somehow they were still ringing, a high-pitched whine like an electric current. Panic had him by the throat but - paradoxically, he felt strangely calm. As if he was floating far above his own body. As if he was trapped in a nightmare, running and running but never getting anywhere, the world unraveling beneath his feet.

Somewhere on one of the screens, Tenna crawled on all-fours as if he was bleeding out, begging someone, anyone, “Is there a tailor in the house??”... but Battat couldn’t do anything. He was hopeless. Useless. Everything was going to be ruined, and it was going to be all his fault. He had to give up. He had no choice.

I have to get out of here…

Suddenly, something shifted.

No. I got this.

It felt so strange, and yet so familiar - a feeling like he was being picked up by some kind of current, something that moved and flowed and pushed him back just enough that he didn't have to think any more. His right hand seemed to move of its own accord, grabbing the walkie-talkie from his belt.

Since when did I start wearing a belt, he thought briefly, dreamily - but those thoughts, too, were snatched away. Carried off by that feeling, gently washing away his awareness. There was a straw in his mouth; ice-cream flavored coffee flowed in.

“Hm, not half bad. Could maybe use somethin’ a little harder to get the party started, heh heh… but not half bad.”

It was… cold. Must have been sweet, too, probably. But Battat barely registered anything any more; the colors and sounds around him, his movements, any kind of sensation, it all seemed to fade. It all seemed to flow into that buzzing, hissing static, leaving him comfortably numb. Somewhere, the thumb on the right hand of his body held down the button on the walkie-talkie.

“Now, let’s get down to business…”

He was nowhere now. He was just drifting, gently, silently, as words in a velvet-smooth baritone came bubbling up and spoke themselves out loud.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re up. Bring the sewing kit, a family-sized bucket of compliments, an’ tell the other guy to keep my eye on the time. Come see me once you’re done. Over.”

…Then just as suddenly as it started, reality abruptly snapped back into place.

Battat blinked once. Twice. What was he doing again?

He looked at the walkie-talkie in his right hand - Huh? When did I pick this up? - and shrugged. Setting it down somewhere nearby to be forgotten about, his left hand reached for his coffee. Ah well, it wasn’t like he was any stranger to randomly zoning out. Happened all the time. Always happened, when you never seemed to get enough sleep. At least the coffee was good? Dumping the ice-cream in it had been an inspired choice, added a surprisingly pleasant artificial vanilla-y note… why hadn’t he ever done it before?

Hell, it’d probably go great with a few holiday cookies-

Oh shit.

OH SHIT! How long had he been-!?

His heart suddenly pounding out of his chest again, Battat’s hand slammed down hard on the red button. He desperately searched for an apology, desperately tried to beg for mercy, beg for his job, beg for his life, but his throat felt parched, closing up tighter and tighter as he panicked. He should have anticipated this. He was supposed to be in control, always in control, and now he’d lost control he was in so much trouble oh god oh god how could he possibly-!?

Then Tenna’s voice came crackling through his headset.

He sounded… overjoyed.

“Oh, Mike! Mike, you’re an absolute angel! I take everything back; whatever would I do without you??”

HUH???

Battat’s eyes boggled. They yahtzeed. They were practically halfway to a full game of Craps until he was finally able to focus on the mysterious figure on the screen in front of him - someone he’d never seen before. They were handing off a basic sewing kit to a nearby Pippins so they could stitch on the button that had come flying off. Then, much to Battat’s horror, they touched Tenna.

Who gave THEM permission to-!?

They were helping him. Helping him untuck his shirt just a little as he caught on to their apparent plan, rumpling the fabric just enough to hide the curve of his stomach. Almost a full month of holiday indulgence had left Tenna a little softer and rounder around the middle, and he had to admit, it was… kind of cute… ?

Battat sighed out loud, then almost slapped himself across the face.

NO! FOCUS! TIME TO FOCUS!

Still blushing, they managed to tear their eyes away and squinted hard at the screen, gritting their teeth; Who the hell IS this guy?!?

“An’ that should just about do it, big boss.”

Whoever this was, they spoke with a distinctive, almost ‘dopey’ drawl, and - Battat’s fists clenched - they were close enough to Tenna that their voice was being picked up by his very own microphone.

Since when is he okay with ANYBODY ELSE touching him??

“Mike says everybody puts on a lil’ weight ‘round dis time’a year. Da seasons change, an’ food is, uh, good. Ain’t no shame in dat. ‘Cause dat’s what Mike said. Me, Mike. Modern mouth Mike. Dat’s what I said, right?”

Mike… !? Battat blinked, frozen momentarily in confusion and disbelief. But… but Mike doesn’t wear a cowboy hat… !

Then, suddenly, something else caught the Pippins’ eye - a cascade of colors from motion blur, and a flurry of frantic movement had him quickly turning his head toward Camera 3…

What NOW??

…And now it was Battat’s turn to have their stomach drop. The camera had seemingly been turned around in the complete opposite direction, and was now facing the studio wall behind it. And there, standing in front of it and waving frantically - it looked like someone knew he was looking, and was desperately trying to get his attention.

Is that… is that a fucking CAT?

A cat - wearing microphone muffs like gloves and shoes - was gesturing desperately. It grabbed the camera from the front and moved it around, up and to the left, and before Battat could smack the button to summon Security for such an obvious act of sabotage… he saw the view on his screen was now showing the clock on the wall.

The camera zoomed in as if to make a point of it, still showing the clock. The clock that indicated it was very nearly 6pm. And the Dreemurrs kept a very, VERY tight schedule…

Snapping fully back to his senses, Battat yelled down his headset at the top of his lungs - “T-MINUS SIXTY SECONDS!!!”

Several Darkners yelped in surprise and pain as feedback shrieked through every earpiece. Tenna recoiled; for just a split-second, he looked furious, bearing his fangs and claws. If it had been any other time, it really would be over. It’d be Battat’s head on a silver platter, sitting pride of place in the middle of the Executive Buffet table.

But there was no time; the family would be settling down, the parents in the back, the kids in the front. Asgore would be picking up the remote. Toriel would be fussing over Kris, making sure their napkin was tucked securely into their T-shirt collar, because Wednesday was always Spaghetti Night.

Be careful with the pepper, dear, she’d say to Asgore. Nobody wants to lose their meatball when somebody sneezes, she’d say, with a laugh. I will dear, he’d say, with a chuckle.

Same as always. Same as every week. Same as it ever was.

“Settle down now, children…”

Tenna took a deep breath, raising one hand triumphantly towards the heavens. Towards their beloved audience.

“It’s…. TEE! VEE! TIIIIIIIIIME!”

The myriad shadows in the crowd erupted in applause, and Battat let go of the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, falling back in his chair.

Told you I got this, said those intrusive thoughts.

Battat blinked, and shook his head - God, would his brain ever shut up?? - but he had to relent this time.

Yeah. Turns out I did have this. Thanks, me.

They took another sip of their coffee. He’d have to sort out this mess later - there couldn’t be other guys going around thinking they were Mike, right? There was only one Mike. There was only ever one Mike, and it was him. He’d stepped into that role by choice when the boss kept looking for Mike, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like Mike objected or anything, if he even existed at all. Battat had never even seen the guy, but hints at his presence seemed to be everywhere.

Anyway - he was Mike. He was Mike because he’d decided to be Mike, and that meant, for all intents and purposes, he was Mike.

…Right?

The green Pippins rubbed his head; even besides the mysterious Impostor Mike and That Fucking Cat, things still felt off. It felt almost like he was forgetting something. Something important. Did something happen while he… ?

Don’t let the rest of it get cold, dumb-dumb.

Oh, right. The TV Dinner. Or was it Breakfast? Ugh, of course he’d lose track again... he really needed to go to bed. Felt like he never knew what time it was, sometimes not even what day it was. Time had always just, slipped away from him. Constantly. It was so annoying, just like those damn intrusive thoughts.

Whatever, he thought, snatching up the tray and the plastic spork that came with it, and grimacing slightly at its contents. Half-eaten vegan salisbury steak in congealed mushroom gravy, clumpy mashed potatoes, and some very unlucky plain peas and carrots. Someone must have been zoning out when they were adding the perfectly-square, flash-frozen pats of Buttery-Flavored Spread with Some Kind Of Green Herb - the one thing that was supposed to lend the anaemic veggies even a little flavor. And how was he supposed to choke all of this down before the ice-cream (or “artificially flavored dairy dessert”) on a Tenna-nose-shaped cone defrosted, anyway??

“Ugh. Whatever.”

He needed to eat, so he just shoveled it down mindlessly as he wheeled back to his desk; grumbling through each mouthful, like he always did. It wasn’t like it mattered, since he’d never remember this later; he never did.

Same as always. Same as every week. Same as it ever was…

KNOCK KNOCK

The sudden knock at the door almost made him choke - and the voice that came next made him spit-take a wad of mashed potatoes right onto his monitors.

“Is, uh… is Mike dere?”

Battat coughed, and their eyes widened; Wait - the guy from downstairs?! Impostor Mike!?

Screw this! He thought to himself, grinning maniacally and throwing the remaining food into the nearly-overflowing trash can next to him. I’m gonna serve THIS GUY a piece of my mind!

The irate Darkner hopped out of his chair, adjusted his tie, and stormed over to the door. He was ready - oh, he was so ready. He was going to make them regret coming up here to taunt him about his failure. Oh yeah, after an evening like this one, he was about to unleash hell! That bastard was going to regret every moment of the life they’d lived since they’d dared to try and take his job! His purpose! His-

“Hey dere boss!”

Battat froze in place, fingers still locked in a death grip around the door handle.

B… Boss???

“Thanks so much for takin’ on da two of us as pro-dee-jays! We really, uh, ‘preciate it. Yeah, lotsa ‘preciation. Whole lotta preciatin’ goin’ on. Ain’t dat right, Pluey?”

Battat spluttered, unable to speak. It wasn’t just just the cowboy-hatted impostor,  oh no - that weird cat was there, too! It reached out and shook his hand, rattling off a series of saxophone sounds in a cheerful Major scale! And seemingly not noticing the stunned expression on his face - the pair of them let themselves in! Waltzing right into his work space!! As if it was the most natural thing in the world!!!

“So you wanted us to come see you about somethin’, right boss?” The cowboy impostor said, tilting their head curiously. “Uh… you okay, boss?”

Battat could have flipped an entire gaming table with the desperate, confused flailing of his arms.

“THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, ‘BOSS’???”

Chapter Text

“Uh… dat’s you, Boss. Dat’s what I mean by Boss, Boss.”

Battat didn’t know whether to be disgusted by the audacity of this guy, or impressed that he’d even tried to pull off something like this. Well if he took one step closer, he’d be laughing on the other side of his face - or he would if he had one, since he seemed to be a faceless, walking Boom Mic.

“You think this is REAL funny, don’t you??” He snarled; “You thought it’d be FUNNY to come up here and prank me!?”

His face twisted into a cruel grin, Battat pointed at the Impostor Mike, reaching into his pocket for his attack dice. He was ready to rumble. He was ready to roll. If he was already completely screwed by what happened down on the set, if he really had been replaced, then why not go out in a huge spectacle?? He’d take a baseball bat to every single one of Tenna’s stupid rules, starting with the one about Fighting your co-workers… it’d serve this guy right for daring to piss him off…

…Then he tried to take a step forward, and couldn’t.

He tried again, and nothing happened. He couldn’t move. His feet felt like they were stuck to the floor.

WHAT!? Battat tried to yell out loud, but found he could only scream helplessly inside his own head. He felt like he was being held back somehow - like he was being forced into one of his random zone-outs. And there was a feeling from his right side like someone just out of view was glaring at him, and a strange, distant, not-quite-real sensation on his shoulder, like someone had their hand very firmly on it and was saying right in his ear-

No you freakin’ DON’T.

…But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Yeah, of course it is, Battat thought to themself. That weird cat was close enough to their right, and it made a few sad saxophone sounds as it gestured towards its companion. Yeah, it must have been the cat. He looks like the kind of guy who might be-

“... real good at solvin’ conflicts, and he can’t even talk… !”

“Wait… ” Battat said, dropping his dice back in his pocket as a vague, half-formed memory bubbled to the surface. “Do I know you idiots or what??”

Despite not even having eyes, the Impostor Mike managed to give him a sympathetic look.

“Sorry, boss… ya did tell us dis might happen, but I forgots ya told us that ya sometimes forgets tings, y’know?”

Their feline companion backed them up with a few strangled, off-key squawks that somehow got across the general feeling of “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s… it’s fine.” Battat grumbled, adjusting their tie. Okay, so he did know these idiots. The only question was from where, but he had a sneaking suspicion he knew the answer to that already…

“Tenna’s Plug-In Party, right?”

Most Darkners didn’t have birthdays; not unless a Lightner's games assigned them one. They weren’t born so much as just… came together over time, from ordinary objects. Given enough love, time, and attention, a personality could develop in the alternate reality of the Dark World. And in the case of Tenna… he’d been so adored, so lavished with attention right from Day 1, he still remembered the exact day and year he’d first been plugged in. That was already unusual for a Darkner, but what was even more unusual was how he insisted on celebrating every single time that date rolled around, like the guy didn’t have a big enough ego already.

But, it wasn’t like anyone really minded… after all, it meant an all-you-can-eat buffet of somewhat more passable food. And booze. Lots of it.

Battat grimaced, pinching where the bridge of his nose would have been. Yeah. Yeah, that has to be it. That had been the last time he’d been walking around in costume, fully leaning into the role of Motormouth Mike, The Microphone That Croons And Groans, and he always got so completely lost in that role that he forgot almost everything he’d been doing and saying.

And with alcohol involved…

“Another drink? Oh I couldn’t possibly have one more… without a toast to the best darn co-workers a guy could ask for!! Am I right?? BAHAHAHA!!! Come on, raise those plastic cups! Get ‘em up! YEAH! You too hot stuff, don’t think I don’t see ya back there-!”

Things got so much worse. Battat groaned, covering his face with his hands. Sure, he had to get into the role properly if he was going to be Mike for the evening, but why did he always act so cringe?? God, he must have sounded like someone’s uncle at a Bar Mitzvah… and those memories were coming back now, piece by piece. It felt like someone was dealing him a hand in poker, and he was struggling to bluff like hell as he saw the hot garbage staring straight back at him.

It was always frustrating, trying to recall exactly what happened, especially since the last clear thing he remembered was putting on the costume. He’d never really questioned how or why it showed up, or why it fit him like a glove - but it felt like one of those things you probably didn’t want to know the answer to, like what exactly went into some of the TV Dinners. Oh he had his theories, of course he did… but a big part of television was only paying attention to what was right in front of you, and he didn’t particularly feel like starving…

No, focus. FOCUS! Put the pieces together!

Okay. The last clear thing he remembered was putting on the costume; and as usual, as soon as the head part went on, the perspective of those memories suddenly shifted and twisted and it felt like he was watching himself. He’d talked to a lot of people, got himself a cup of punch. Helped himself to the buffet, several times in fact…

… Seemed weird that he’d apparently cared so much about food that night, but it was supposed to be a cut above the usual… that wasn’t what he was here for, though.

The memories flickered and blurred as they skipped through, ignoring the details. Pointless, irrelevant, stupid, not worth it. No, what he was looking for was… there! That’s where he’d heard that stupid voice before! Apparently he’d told him his name was Jongler, but something had been different about him, it was… it was…

Ugh, stupid broken brain! He was so close! He just couldn’t quite-

“Uh, Boss?”

“WHAT?” Battat snapped impatiently; “This had better be important!!”

Then he froze again, staring at what was in front of him.

The Mike Impostor had taken off his cowboy hat - and apparently the rest of his costume, revealing he was nothing more than an ordinary, run-of-the-mill Zapper, same as any of the others. And likewise - the Weird Cat, who he now remembered had been introduced as Pluey, had taken off its head to reveal…

“You’re a Shadowguy??”

Pluey blushed; looking away from Battat, they honked shyly, their cat-like ears tilting downwards.

“Pluey says only on da outside, Boss.” Jongler interjected. “Da costume feels more like da ‘real them’, if dat makes sense… it was real happy about it when ya said it could wear it at woik.”

“Oh. Huh.” Battat answered flatly.

So I’m not the only one who feels like a different person when putting on a costume… good to know I’m not just crazy, right?? Because only a crazy person would really think they actually become another person when they’re just ACTING, right??

HAHAHAA-!

Pluey suddenly flinched as if they’d been struck, slumping miserably, and the Green Pippins realized to his horror that that laugh had just been out loud. He held up his hands defensively, waving them back and forth.

“NO! No - sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to- I was just remembering something funny that happened that night!! You know?? We really hit it off, didn’t we?? Battat and Pluey and uh… Jongler… ?”

He laughed nervously, trying and failing to hide the unnerving forced grin on his face.

“HAHAHAA!!! I can’t believe I forgot you two! After we- after we did all that stuff! At the party! That stuff we did at the party!! You know??”

There was an awkward moment of silence.

“Ya mean like… signin’ dat non-dees-closure agreements, so’s we don’t gives da game away while pretendin’ to be Mike?”

“Exactly!! It’s just like I said, right? Exactly like I said! All of that hilarious and witty stuff I said before I had you sign that totally real agreement!! Which has totally got to be around here somewhere!!”

He giggled again, shoving a pile of trash on top of the trash pile that was once a trash can, hoping to find something that would prove to him with one hundred percent certainty that this wasn’t a nightmare and he’d apparently hired two subordinates while drunk off his ass.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m crazy or something, right?? I’m totally not crazy!! Not me! I absolutely remember that fun fun FUN evening, crystal clear! And everything I said to you, too!! All of which was completely true! And normal! And absolutely not an impulsive decision made under the influence!”

There was a momentary pause as Battat caught his breath; so quiet, it felt like the last time Asgore sat on the remote and put the entire show on mute.

Real smooth, dummy.

“Shut. Up.” The Darkner growled under their breath, still searching for the elusive proof. Even their stupid intrusive thoughts were making today even worse…

But Pluey just clapped its hands together, playing a happy little tune, and Jongler puffed out their chest proudly.

“Yeah, dat’s right! Ya did say we both got chops, Boss! ‘Specially Pluey here… an’ we’d be poifect for da role of backup Mikes! Y’know, ta lighten the woikload!”

He sniffled, putting a hand over the button on his heart. “We’re so glad ya really meant it, Boss… it’d bring a tear to my eye if I only had any… ”

Right on cue, Pluey gave a loud wail, inky tears streaming from where its eyes probably were as it grabbed Battat in an appreciative hug, scooping them up off the ground.

“Hey, HEY! Put me DOWN, stupid!!” they yelled, squirming.

Silently and obediently, Pluey set Battat gently back on the floor, and - much to their irritation - gave them a well-meaning pat on the head.

“Thanks.” Battat said, swatting their hand away. He still couldn’t find that supposed contract, but it’d just have to be another thing to add to his to-do list.

“We’re done here.” he snapped. “Got any stupid questions before I kick you both out of here, forget all of this happened, and get back to my job?”

Turning back towards Jongler, it rattled off a complex melody while the Zapper nodded along.

“Uh-huh. Okay. Oh - yeah! Pluey just wants to know what it was ya wanted to talk to us about in da first place, Boss.”

SHIT.

Battat could already feel the panic rising in their chest. They clutched their head, which was already starting to spin, and that ringing buzzing noise was starting to come back…

I have no idea. I don’t remember.

The water of the invisible river was already lapping at their ankles. Any minute now, it would knock their feet out from under them and they’d be adrift, but NO! He couldn’t zone out now, not while he still needed to fix this mess!

What did I say to them?? What the fuck did I say?!? I don’t remember and they’re gonna know I don’t remember and I don’t know how I’m gonna remember and-

“Boss?”

Battat abruptly snapped to attention, still borderline hyperventilating from the stress, and asked breathlessly; “What?”

“We was… we was actually wonderin’... ” Jongler said shyly, lowering his head and blushing slightly. “...If we did a good job. Since it’s our first day an’ all.”

“If you… did a good job?”

Pluey performed a short saxophone solo, which Jongler translated to; “We’re open to constructive criticism, Boss!”

Battat snapped his fingers and muttered to himself; “Yahtzee!” ✱

“Well of course that’s why I called you up here!” They said with another forced smile; “I mean, why else would I have invited you up here other than to give you feedback on the job I absolutely told you myself to do for me??”

Both of them stood there, silently, waiting for their answer.

Battat, meanwhile, took a rare moment to actually think about what the hell they were doing.

He had to admit, even if he hadn’t been expecting them to show up, they really had made a difference. They’d even turned something that could put Tenna in a foul mood for a month into a moment he’d be talking about for a month. He could very easily picture in his head, how it would go; how Mike swooped in with a stitch in time. He’d been rescued like a damsel in distress, saved from his completely unexpected wardrobe malfunction, which was absolutely caused by an error at the dry cleaners… any rumors of him wearing a girdle on set being completely unfounded lies and slander.

The Green Pippins chuckled a little, but quickly covered it up with a cough.

Yeah, maybe he could really benefit from having them around. Sure they were both a few playing pieces short of a full chess set, but they actually followed orders, and apparently they didn’t even care that he’d run his mouth about his constant memory problems that night. They just accepted that he had a shit memory, no questions asked… yeah, he could definitely use that. Not to mention the extra hands on deck when he couldn’t possibly get to the set in time.

But then… even if they had a legally binding contract together, it was one that had been signed while they were all roaring drunk. And even if it was valid, he still had no proof it even existed, because like always, he’d put it down somewhere and promptly forgotten where it was. Without an NDA, they could just walk out the door right now - they could tell everyone he was Mike without any repercussions. They could ruin him, if he wasn’t careful. Was this really a good idea… ?

But - strangely, rather than the usual panic, he could feel something else. Something warm welling up inside him. Something like… encouragement?

You got this.

Battat took a deep breath. Yeah. He had this.

Give them a chance. Sweeten the deal, maybe.

He could give them a chance. Maybe even sweeten the deal.

Wait… how the hell am I supposed to do that??

What was he thinking!? Cutting deals wasn’t his thing! He wasn’t out there doing the secret handshakes and attending weird masquerade balls like the movers and the shakers of the world did! He was just a weird, neurotic nerd sitting at a desk full of switches and buttons, who acted like Tenna’s personal gofer by day, and spent every evening making sure the show happened at all! He had all the charisma of a dead cockroach!! You’d find more “charm” in a bowl of sugary cereal with marshmallows!!!

That was, unless he…

“You know what? Regarding the job you two did - I think you both deserve to hear this straight from our, ahahah, mutual friend Motormouth Mike! I mean, metaphorically of course, but if he wasn’t me I think I know exactly what he’d say… ”

Battat cleared his throat; without the costume, it was a little harder to get into character. He took a deep breath, steadied himself… but before he could even start to overthink it, he suddenly found himself standing with that familiar ‘Motormouth Swagger’. His eyebrow raised, his fingers snapped, and he pointed right at the pair of them like he’d just asked them to come on down and join him on the stage.

“You guys did amazin’ today! Gold star! A-plus! Ten outta ten! Honestly, ya really saved my ass back there… ”

The words flowed like warm honey, complete with “Mike’s” distinctive accent. It was almost unreal - especially when, without any hesitation, he found himself yanking both their arms to pull their heads down to his level.

And his mouth seemed to curl into a smirk all by itself as it said; “In fact, I’ll tell ya what - let’s celebrate our newfound partnership with a round’a those deluxe dinners - y’know, the ones for the real Big Shots. It’ll be my treat!”

The moment he let go, the pair of Darkners practically shrieked in delight, hugging each other and jumping up and down.

Battat, meanwhile, choked for the second time that evening. What was that?? Why did he say that!? It felt like his Mike persona just jumped out of him all at once and… and promised two strangers he’d just met for the first time while sober a free dinner??

He groaned, dreading to think of how many POINTs this would deduct from his SCORE, but…

It’s not exactly like I’d spend it on anything more worthwhile, he thought, and grimaced a little. God, he’d never taken a breather for long enough to realize what a pigsty his workspace had turned into, had he… ?

All around him, Static Shock Energy Drink cans and empty coffee cups - both hot and iced - littered every surface that various paperwork wasn’t already occupying. Several overflowing ashtrays betrayed yet another of his bad habits. And the lingering smell of tobacco only added to the fetid bouquet of rotting garbage from the half-eaten TV dinner trays. Some tipping out of the overflowing garbage, others stacked up and ready for the overworked janitors to take out… on the rare occasion they could get in without Battat screaming at them for the interruption.

Weirdly, though, there was also half a six-pack of what looked like beer cans, which he couldn’t remember ever dropping POINTs on. Battat tilted their head, as if it would make more sense somehow from a 45 degree angle. No boozing, no schmoozing right… ? And it wasn’t like he could drink on the job, which he was practically always on…

But as he often did, he just shrugged dismissively - eh, probably leftover from the party - and headed back towards the door. Being so close to the holidays meant the movie channel was showing one of their Commercial-Free Christmas Classics, so the Dreemurrs would be happily preoccupied for at least another hour and a half without Battat’s direct intervention. It was as good a time for a break as any, they supposed, glancing back at the pair of “Backup Mikes”.

“You two coming or what? Don’t think I’ve ever bothered with one of those premium meals before, so I guess I’ll see what all the fuss is about.”

Battat smiled a little - it wasn’t often he had an excuse to be anything but antisocial, so this might actually be a nice change of pace before he went straight back to the grind.

“I mean it’s got to be better than the regular TV Dinner, right?”

Jongler laughed heartily, and Pluey chuckled a rising and falling series of quick notes.

Battat squinted at them, confused. Okay, what could he have possibly said that was in the least bit funny? Were they choosing now to mess with him??

“Yeah, dat was real funny, boss! I bet da whole of TV Worlds knows exactly what ya tink of dem TV Dinners, after dat whole standup comedy ting… ”

The Green Pippins blinked, utterly dumbfounded.

“The what.”

…Then, realizing the pair had already gone on ahead of him, Battat scrambled to catch up.

“HEY! SLOW DOWN! I’m like HALF the size of you overgrown idiots-!”

Chapter Text

Battat had gotten used to being in situations where he didn’t know how he got here. With his memory issues, it was pretty much a given sometimes; that he’d “snap out of it” and find the last few hours had gone by in a total blur. Annoying as it was, it was just what life was for him.

But even knowing that… he had no idea how things had ended up like this.

Thanks to his own impulsive shenanigans, he was down several hundred points. He had two strange Darkners, who he’d made a complete fool of himself in front of, invading his personal workspace - going through his paperwork, touching his things, even touching the control desk .

By now, he should be even more stressed than usual; he should be wishing he had any hair just so he could tear it out in frustration. He should be going absolutely feral; he should be foaming at the mouth, making very real threats to start biting people if they didn’t get the hell out right this second. He should be losing his mind with fear and stress over losing his job - the job that, prior to one wild night of the boozing and schmoozing he swore he’d never do, he’d always done completely solo.

And right on cue, a saxophone solo from his left.

“You’re done already??”

Pluey gave some musical equivalent of “Uh-huh”, nodding in response.

It and Jongler had both put their respective costumes back on, just in case lightning struck twice and something else went wrong. But so far, things were going so smoothly that he’d given the enthusiastic pair jobs that he considered pointless busy-work. Jobs that he’d been putting off for months , like organizing the piles of papers around the place… which Pluey had apparently finished up in the time it took to get to the next commercial break.

“Switch to camera four… and… ” He muttered to himself, watching the monitors for a moment. “Cut to commercial. Seems like a good time to take five.”

Pluey saluted him with a little fanfare and rushed over to Jongler, who had been using what he was best known for - being “da muscles” - to take out multiple trash bags full of garbage. Their promised Deluxe Dinners - still comfortably nestled in their insulated containers - awaited!

Battat took the one with his name on it with a curt “Thanks”, prompting one long tone and two short tones from Pluey.

“Uh… ‘you’re welcome’, right?” - they guessed - getting another “Uh-huh!” in response.

The green Pippins smirked to himself a little; felt weird, how he was already getting used to its weird, non-verbal way of ‘speaking’, but he supposed if even Jongler was able to pick it up, it should be no problem for a self-professed nerd like himself. But he picked up his spork, and prodded curiously at his meal, which was still a little too hot to start shoveling down - a far cry from the usual half-melted, half-cold fare.

They sighed in mild frustration, blowing on the bite of food to cool it down.

What a waste of time…

Normally by this point in the night, he should be on his fourth or fifth coffee and/or energy drink. Not looking at an entire second meal, and one that had cost him more than twice the POINTs he’d drop on the usual crappy cafeteria fare. As far as he was concerned, eating was a chore, and food was nothing more than fuel. Something to keep him going and make sure he didn’t collapse at his desk (again) while he fulfilled his purpose. They couldn’t see why this would be any different.

And then they took a bite.

“Mmmm… “ Battat mumbled to himself; “So good! ”

The green Pippins frantically checked around to make sure the other two hadn’t heard - Good, they’re still busy - and took another bite. They sighed happily; a rare, genuine smile crossing their face as their whole body relaxed. Who would have guessed a Deluxe Dinner was actually worth it? Why hadn’t he realized that the food here could actually taste good??

He’d selected something from the vending machine completely at random, thinking only of how much this would set back his SCORE - but apparently he’d selected the Pot Pie. He’d often wondered why his kin were always looking to fleece other Darkners out of their hard-earned POINTs with their idiotic gambling schemes… but with each bite of buttery crust and rich, creamy gravy, he could actually begin to understand. The hearty entree came with two perfectly portioned sides of Green Beans Almondine and Glazed Carrots, too, both of which proved surprisingly delicious.

Next time he’d have to browse the options properly, he supposed. It looked like the only downside to the option he’d picked was-

Wait. Is he staring at me?

Snapping out of their pot-pie-induced happiness, they squinted suspiciously at Jongler. Taking a break from cleaning, it looked like the disguised Zapper had opted for the lasagna… and despite him not having eyes, he was making it very obvious that he was glancing at Battat. Then back to his tray. Then back at them again.

“The hell do you want.” Battat said, flatly. “I already paid good POINTs for these, so there’d better not be a problem.”

“S-sorry boss!” Jongler stuttered, stumbling over his words, looking away shamefully as he realized he’d been caught. “I just forgets dat dessert what comes wit dis one is chocolate, and-”

“Did you say chocolate? ”

Now that got their attention; he hadn’t had one of his favorite Choco Diamonds since he’d still resided in the Card Kingdom. And what was sitting there on Jongler’s tray was no Choco Diamond, but the rectangular treat seemed to be studded with little star-shaped candy pieces, glittering in the low light of the monitors like precious stones.

“Wouldsya maybe want ta take my Superstar Brownie, boss?”

Battat sneered at the small cup of gelatin dessert on their own tray; the red, blue and green layered side by side at least looked pretty. But the thought of eating something cold and jiggly just reminded him of the congealed gravy he’d tried to choke down earlier, and he stuck his tongue out in disgust. Blech .

“Gimme” they said, holding out their tray; “And take mine, I wasn’t gonna eat that trash anyway.”

Jongler didn’t even hesitate - gliding over, he swapped the two desserts so quickly it looked like a blur, and looked as happy as Battat did when he’d taken that first bite of Deluxe Dinner.

“Thanks, boss! Ya really are da best!”

Battat shook his head, watching the Zapper go. Who the hell would get practically giddy over a simple cup of RBGelatin… ?

“You’re welcome, I guess… ”

Instinctively, without even thinking, he cast aside an unwelcome warm and tingly sensation in his chest. His thorny defenses were quietly re-establishing themselves, keeping him comfortable - and more importantly, safe. He was nestled in the heart of what felt like an impenetrable bramble patch, where nothing could hurt him.

These guys are really weird.

And meanwhile, somewhere just outside their perception, someone else caught that feeling. He held it gently in his hands, like a firefly. Warm, soft, fleeting… he could put it with the others, to hold onto for a rainy day. But right here, right now, this was the one time he shouldn’t be keeping these feelings locked up, where nothing could take them away.

It’s good to have friends ya can rely on.

Huh???

Battat steadied himself, putting a hand to his forehead, as the feelings he’d been trying to suppress ricocheted right back - even stronger than before.

Friends… ?

He looked around at the room, which was cleaner than it had been in months... the run-up to the holidays was always high-pressure for everyone, but he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t fallen asleep on a pile of papers or even slumped over the controls. Even after hours, Tenna expected Mike to be at his constant beck and call, making the most ludicrous demands of him, and he’d done it all by himself.

But now Jongler and Pluey were here… he suddenly had time to think about that. About how while he’d been slaving away by himself, the other Darkners had found ways to have fun. Hell, even in their limited break time during commercials, Pluey had somehow found the time to take out the detachable antennae from its Deluxe Dinner and had put them on. And judging from the way Jongler was laughing, it must be doing the most incredible impression of Tenna, copying several of his signature poses before keeling over and ‘fainting’ dramatically.

Battat slapped their hand over their mouth to suppress a laugh of their own. No - no, this wouldn’t do. Somewhere inside them, the thorns started to slowly close in again, and their smile turned back to their usual frown. If Battat didn’t know better, they’d swear they heard someone sigh frustratedly in their ear, but once again they dismissed it… probably someone with a ‘hot mic’ again…

These guys are just my underlings. I don’t HAVE friends.

“If you two are done screwing around , we’ve got about two minutes left to eat before commercial ends.”

Taking off his antennae headband, Pluey’s ‘speech’ took on a rising intonation.

Somehow, Battat had a gut feeling he knew exactly what that meant. He glared at the costumed Darkner, and turned his chair away to finish the rest of his entree.

“No.”

A high pitched whine; definitely “But whyyyyy?”

“Because it’s stupid and a waste of time, that’s why.”

Battat took a few more bites of vegetables and gravy. He felt like this would even be half-decent when cold - but nice and hot like this, it satisfied something more than just his hunger. Felt like it was filling a hole in their heart, and not just their stomach. They sighed; only something this good could make them think something that stupid was even possible. But with all the overtime they were putting in, maybe even just once in a while, they could afford to-

“HEY!”

Feeling something suddenly jammed onto his head, the green Pippins whipped round just in time to hear a saxophone noise that left no room for doubt as to what it meant. He had one of those stupid sets of antennae on his head, and Pluey was laughing at him . His face flushed, Battat scarcely had time to set his tray down before he impulsively gave chase, determined to get his revenge.

“ PLUEY!!! ”

More laughter. All of his anger and frustration bubbling to the surface, Battat’s faced was an interesting shade of chartreuse as he honed in on his target. Pluey’s legs were longer, but its fursuit slowed it down.

“Uh, boss… ?”

Its pursuer, meanwhile, had honed his skills from years of being Tenna’s errand boy. They’d worked their way up from the bottom to the top. Done everything as quickly as they possibly could to keep Tenna happy. And they did it all in costume ; a costume which they weren’t currently wearing!

“Boss?”

He was close enough now; he had his opening! He bent his knees and jumped, right onto Pluey’s back, tackling the other Darkner to the ground!

“Boss???”

“ WHAT? ” Battat snapped; his victory now assured, the green Pippins jammed the antennae on Pluey’s head in a final coup de grâce. That’ll show you!

“This had better be good, Jongler, or else-”

“ We got less than thoity seconds ‘til commercial ends, boss!! ” Jongler said, visibly distressed as he gestured one boxing glove hand to the monitors.

“SHIT!”

Pluey gave an undignified honk as Battat stepped on its tail. His foot slipped, he tripped, and… he fell . Time seemed to slow to a crawl before he even hit the ground, and he was back in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He couldn’t possibly make it. The controls were too far away, there was no way he could make it, there was no way-!

“Hit the red button! NOW! ”

The voice of Mike spontaneously leapt from his throat, shattering the silence. Battat hit the floor, Jongler did exactly what he was told, and he found himself shouting;

“TEN SECOND COUNTDOWN! On or off the set, figure it out an’ MOVE!”

Getting up off the floor - thank God my ‘Mike voice’ projects like that - Battat took a moment to catch their breath.

Two close calls in one night had been inconceivable up until tonight… and this time it was caused by the cardinal sins of slacking off and screwing around. By all accounts, he should be furious . He should be kicking out the pair of them, telling them they’d never be good enough to be Mike, that he’d always done this alone and there was a good reason for that… but there was something even stronger welling up inside him. His face flickered through different expressions, between incompatible emotions, two sides within him completely at odds with each other.

Quit fightin’ it, dumb-dumb!

Shut up!

For once in your damn life, let it out!!

I SAID SHUT UP!!!

Tears started to well up in his eyes as he started to become overwhelmed. He was caught between what he was supposed to feel and the one thing he really didn’t want to feel. It was too much. He had to focus, he had to get control back, he…

He looked up, and saw Jongler standing over him.

He’d put his own set of antennae on top of his cowboy hat.

Battat snorted. He bit his lip. He covered his mouth. He practically bent double with the effort as he still refused to let go, his eyes streaming, his cheeks bulging like he was about to burst… until he couldn’t any longer, and roared with laughter. The door to every cage inside him had been flung open all at once, and every cackle, guffaw, giggle and more was stampeding out of him in an enormous belly laugh. He fell to the ground, wheezing and clawing at the air.

His stomach hurt. His sides hurt. It was so much that by the time he finally got up off the floor, Pluey was actually manning (or was it catting?) the controls, switching the camera feed for that evening’s weather report.

“Okay… “ Battat wheezed, still catching his breath; “Okay… let me take it from here… ”

He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry that someone was putting its paws all over his precious controls. Most Pippins were somewhat superstitious by nature - they knew all about the “rule of threes” when it came to disastrous luck. Battat considered themself above such things, but all the same, the last thing they needed was to play right into fate’s hands. No matter what happened, the show must go on.

“Who taught you how to do that, anyway… ?”

One long, sustained note - something like “Uhhhhh…”

“You did, boss.” Jongler said. “Ya taught us both da basics, in case ya got called out on a Mike Emergency… ya really don’t remembers?”

Battat couldn’t even stop to question why he’d even do that in the first place, as a mix of shame and guilt stabbed itself into his chest. Jongler sounded disappointed ; a tone he’d heard so many times, but had never gotten used to. No, he really didn’t remember. He didn’t remember, and nobody would believe him, but almost everything that had happened after putting on the costume head that night was a blur. The same as it ever was.

“It’s okay if ya forgot, boss. Ya did tell us that was a problem. But we’s don’t minds. Right, Pluey?”

Pluey patted him on the shoulder. Battat stayed silent, face flushed from embarrassment, unwilling to admit even to themself that they’d forgotten something so important.

“Besides - it’s nice to see ya actin’ more like da real you again!”

Battat abruptly slumped over the desk. The pair rushed forward in genuine concern, but neither of them had any idea what they’d just done. Battat clutched at their chest; they felt sick to their stomach, the ringing in their ears rising and rising to a deafening crescendo.

Oh, that hurt. That really, really hurt, and the fact that Jongler had meant no harm at all made it even worse.

Mike…

The him that was so capable, who made it all look so effortless and easy. The him that was funny and charming, who always knew what to say, who always had a funny quip or a snappy one-liner at the ready. That was the “real him” to them.

His hands shook, his chest heaved, his vision blurred, his heart fluttered desperately as it was squeezed by the icy grip of despair. God, he really was no better than his kin; even if he’d never meant to be a liar and a fraud, even though he’d tried so hard to be better, to be more. He couldn’t escape what he was, and he’d been a fool for ever thinking otherwise. That act he put on, that role he played, leaving behind everything that made him himself as soon as the head went on… that was what they liked. That was who they liked. That was who they called boss, that was whose approval they desperately sought, that was who they’d shared their food with, who they’d joked around with…

Who they might even consider a friend.

Not him, but Mike.

Mike…!

His eyes rolled back in his head; the emotional whiplash was just too much. Battat fainted, but never felt himself hit the ground.

Instead - like waking up from a dream of falling - Mike awoke with a start. He gasped as he suddenly remembered he needed to breathe, realized he was on the ground, and caught sight of his hands as he flailed aimlessly from a mix of adrenaline and instinct. No gloves. No suit, either - not even his head was on!

“The heck just happened!?”

He tried to answer that question himself by putting the clues together. He’d been “backseating” for a bit like he sometimes did, no fuss, no muss. But now his heart was thumping like it was hammering at the bars of a prison cell - and he was vaguely aware he was being held under his arms, like someone had been about to pull him to his feet.

“Are you okay???”

Ah, that could only be Pluey… the guy certainly had a unique way of speaking, but it’d been easy enough for him to pick up on what he was saying. It was crouched down to his level, somehow crying those same inky tears despite wearing its full costume.

“Hey now, I ain’t dead yet! C’mon, save the waterworks for the funeral… ”

He chuckled a little and patted Pluey’s head, hoping to lighten the mood. If it was here, that meant the one trying to pick him up like a sandbag had to be Jongler.

“Look, I’m okay, alright? Tonight’s just been a little much, that’s all.”

“Uh... me an’ Pluey was boutta get the medics… ”

“Eh, medic, schmedic…” Mike said, waving a hand dismissively. “There’s ain’t nothin’ else tonight but the nightly shutdown. I'll take a breather, I think you two can handle this.”

“Are you sure, boss… ?”

“Pluey, I’d trust you two with my life, what with ya havin’ stepped up yet again. Just do me a favor an’ don’t ask for no more Deluxe Dinners tonight, or my SCORE might have a score to settle - HAH!”

The two Darkners looked at each other, seeming unsure.

“Guys, I’ll be fine. Ya trust me, right? Just put me down somewhere comfy an’ we’ll get this show wrapped up tight.”

Jongler obliged, leaving Mike in the swivel chair while the two of them finished up for the night. He sighed; putting a hand to his forehead - oy, what a mess. Hiding his voice was always easier said than done, but at least on the night, he would’ve been able to wave that off as him being drunk as a particularly tipsy skunk. Everybody was hitting the punch bowl like it owed them POINTs that night, so nobody would’ve gotten overly curious if he’d gotten just a little careless.

Besides, ain’t like I exactly had a choice…

But from the way those two were acting all concerned-like, he must have completely conked out right in the middle of something - and he couldn’t hear or sense the other guy at all. So if he kept it up, not only would he have to pretend to be that grumpy nerd until they all went to bed, but he’d have to do the one-man improv act of his life to not arouse any suspicion. And what the heck was he supposed to blame this crap on this time? Nerves? One too many coffees? Spontaneous allergic reaction to glazed carrots? Bonkus of the conkus??

Or I could just… tell ‘em?

Huh. Now that IS an interestin’ thought.

Taking his time, Mike picked up the brownie from the mostly-empty meal tray next to him, and scooted the chair over to a nearby desk, trying to ignore how weird it felt to be fully ‘in the driver’s seat’ without his signature suit. His head and shoes added a not-insignificant amount of height, and the padding gave the appearance of about 50 extra pounds (More like sixty if I hit up the buffet, am I right??) on the tiny frame he had without it. So he was both shorter and smaller than he was used to being - and picking up the rest of the six pack of Löwebrau, wrenching one free from the plastic rings, made it even harder to escape the feeling he'd shrunk. The can looked so much bigger in his un-gloved right hand, it was throwing him off; but Mike just shrugged, put his feet up on the desk, cracked it open, and took a hearty swig.

More for me!

He smiled to himself contentedly, letting his mind wander for a moment. If the rule of threes really did kick in in the biggest way possible and he inexplicably got even smaller - well hey, at least he’d be a cheap date! Nevermind the usual Whiskey Old Fashioned, he could get absolutely wrecked on a thimble full of liquor! And the Executive Buffet?? HAH, fuhgeddaboudit! For the cost of a Deluxe Dinner, he could camp out on Buffalo Chicken Island in the Sea Of Mac And Cheese and stuff himself ‘til he looked like a ping-pong ball!

Heh, and that’s the theme for my next set! This crap practically writes itself…

He chuckled again, taking a big bite of the brownie. It was pretty much perfect; smooth, chocolatey, nice crunchy bits on top, everything you could ask for from a store-bought dessert. Shame the other guy was gonna miss out - but after bailing on him like that, and going completely radio silent? Far as he was concerned, they owed him. And that was even besides all the stuff he'd already been doing for their benefit, all out of the goodness of his heart.

“Hmmm.” Mike murmured, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "How to deal with this... "

Sure, he’d had to step in briefly, and avert not one but two near-misses that could have ruined everything… but besides that, things were still going pretty good. Nobody else suspected anything, not even the other guy. And Pluey and Jongler had already more than proved their loyalty, so… maybe it was about time he took the plunge. Like hey, what the heck, right? Sometimes you just had to man up, hold your nose, and dive right in!

Mike took another swig of beer - belched loudly - and sat up, patting down his pockets in the hope he might find a pack of cigarettes.

“Hey, you two almost done over there? I feel like I got some explainin’ to do.”

Chapter Text

So here’s the thing, about the night of the party…

The memories came flooding back, as vivid as ever, and Mike did what he did best - spinning a yarn. Telling a tale. Putting Jongler and Pluey right there in the moment with him, as if they’d lived it themselves.

The evening started for Mike the moment it ended for Battat. It was like flipping a light switch - he just went somewhere. Mike had never really questioned where, or even why it happened. Maybe it was claustrophobia; being ‘trapped’ in the suit scared him so badly that he just retreated back into himself, until he was free to breathe again. Maybe it was just that he saw it as a break from reality; a chance to take a breather from the stress of existing, while someone else took the reins. Maybe they were like Batman and Bruce Wayne; the ego and the alter-ego, two halves of the same reality living parallel lives.

But if that’s the case, then the billionaire playboy is the secret identity… though I sure as heck ain’t got billions to my name! Heh heh…

Either way; the line between ‘costume’ and ‘actual body’ always got a little… strange, when Mike woke up. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe there was something a little bit magic about it, like where the heck the suit even came from in the first place. But as Battat put on each piece of him, he could feel himself slowly coming together.

Those oversized white gloves? They were his hands; putting on his shoes, gaining that extra height, changing Battat’s skittering little steps to Mike’s boundlessly confident swagger. That padding to disguise the distinctive angular body shape of a Pippins - Especially a Pippins who could use a couple’a decent meals - that was his body. Fat wasn’t a dirty word from Mike’s mouth; it was just a description, or at most a little extra spice to sprinkle on a sentence, if that was what it took to get a giggle out of somebody.

Y’know, like, hey - can a fat guy get a beer over here or what?? This keg is EMPTY!

But the moment the costume head went on, that was it. All thoughts of work, and the stress that came with it, were securely under lock and key. Battat had left the building, and now it was Mike’s turn to shine. He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror, smoothing out his lapels, brushing back the combed-over hairs on his head, before pointing twin finger guns at his reflection.

“Ayyy, you ready to party, big guy? Hah, what am I sayin’, when ain’t I ready.”

Opening a drawer and grabbing his own personal stack of cigarillos from behind some stationary, he grabbed a gold lighter from his pocket and lit up on his way out.

Yeah, see, that’s what I mean about the ‘magic’ of it. Once I’m in, the costume doesn’t seem to care that my mouth shouldn’t work like that. It just DOES - seriously, ain’t no point in askin’, just roll with it. Anyway, movin’ on…

Out in the hallway, he could already feel the heavy bass of the music thumping through the floor. Tenna must have disabled the parental locks for the night, because the music channel was in full swing, though with Tenna family-friendly policy, he’d probably asked for a few ‘adjustments’ to be made…

♫ Throwin’ snowballs in the park, it’s a blizzard ♪

♪ Getting cocoa, mallow magic like a wizard ♫ 

♪ Playing board game in my room, get nostalgics ♫ 

♫ Now I'm rolling my dice like a D6 ♪

“Oy… he really needs to hire a better lyricist,” Mike said, cringing as he got close enough to actually hear the words blasting through the speakers. “At least the Pippinses might like that last part…”

Heading straight for the double-doors that led to the Music Channel’s dancefloor, he flung them both open. More than a few heads turned to look, more than a few glasses were raised in his direction, and several people outright shouted his name, waving or even beckoning him over to their little huddled cliques. His grin widened in anticipation as he rocked back on his heels, waving, drawing even more stares and pointing fingers.

“Ah, livin' la vida loca... that's how we do it here in TV World... !”

He made his way down to his adoring crowd, shaking a hand here, blowing a kiss there. Grabbing a hug, cutting a rug as he boogied his way through the mass of Shadowguys and Pippins. Boozing and schmoozing - that was all he was about, and he did it like he was born to do it.

“Hey, it’s Mike! MIKE, OVER HERE! Guys, he waved at me!”

“Well well well, if it ain’t the Motormouth! How are you, it’s been ages!”

“Mikey baby, how about a little wager?? C’mon, you know you wanna!”

“Hey barkeep, one more for my friend Mike here, and put it on my tab!”

God, he loved it. A plate in one hand, a cocktail in the other, and a pocket full of slim cigars. He got all the food he could eat, all the drinks he could drink - and he’d never even once had a hangover! Because the moment the night ended and he got back to that lonely little den of despair, it all just washed away!

‘Cause that’s how it was, right? I just go take a little nap inside my head, and none of it’s my problem any more.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mike said, snatching a canape from a silver tray as it passed him, mumbling through yet another mouthful; “My complimentsh to da shef!”

He really was spoiled for choice; the buffet table was loaded with delights of all kinds, and there was something for everyone. None of that strange blue caviar that had appeared one day on the Executive Buffet… Mike himself had been lucky enough to be granted access, when Tenna was in a particularly generous mood… but plenty of his favorites. Sandwiches of all shapes and sizes, cute little petit fours with pastel frosting, empanadas with savory fillings, fresh fruit with a chocolate fountain to dip it in, even an entire ice sculpture of Tenna himself.

He’d really gone all-out tonight… it felt like a party at the end of everything, the kind of celebration you’d have to forget the world, drowning your troubles in endless earthly pleasures. But that said; where were those elusive buffalo meatballs… ? He knew he’d seen someone with a tray somewhere…

He spun around, the music pulsing, the bass thumping. Time was starting to lose all meaning; it was like he’d looped back around to the start again, the same playlist repeating itself.

♪ Like a D6, like a D6… ♫
♫ Like a D6, like a D6… ♪

“MIKE!!”

“Elnina! Lanino!” Mike grabbed the pair in a hug, one under each arm. “Not the tasty snacks I was lookin’ for exactly, but I mean - since when was ever I that picky?”

Elnina practically shrieked with laughter as her beloved partner Lanino spluttered and spat his drink.

“Oh Mike, you’re just awful!!”

“You’re paying for my dry-cleaning in the morning, Motormouth… ”

“Hey, save the glowin’ praise for tonight’s set,” Mike chuckled, letting them both go. “So what’s the forecast tonight? Champagne showers?”

The pair laughed, both a little too loudly to be sober. From the looks of how flushed they were, somebody - perhaps several somebodies - had gone behind Tenna’s back and spiked the ‘family friendly’ punchbowl with something a little more interesting than ginger ale.

Ah, the benefits of bein’ fashionably late. I mean - it’s their POINTs, not mine, and I still get wasted! But I digress-

“Where’s the big boss at, anyway?”

“Oh… Tenna’s around here somewhere…” Elnina sighed, suddenly seeming oddly withdrawn as she ran her fingertip around the edge of her red-and-white cup. “We haven’t seen him for a while, but… there might be more stormy skies ahead…”

“How do you lose track of a guy who’s 20 feet tall??” Mike chuckled; but his smile dropped as he didn’t get the laugh he was expecting. Both of them were looking away from him, like they were trying to hide something.

“Wait, you’re actually serious about this, he… he didn’t shrink, did he? Did anybody check the buffet table?? Maybe the punch bowl - but please, please don’t tell me you last saw him on the dancefloor-”

“You don’t remember?” Lanino sighed, moongazing into his own cup. He, too, seemed strangely distant all of a sudden. “Your intern? The Green Pippins, what’s-what’s his name… Cat Pat? Mat Rat?”

“I think it’s ‘Chat That’, darling.”

“Thank you, sweetheart - your intern Flat Hat promised that Mike would be here as soon as the celebrations kicked off, but nobody could find you anywhere…”

“...And he didn’t want to cut his cake without you warming up the crowd first. And now nobody’s been able to find you, or your intern, for hours… .”

The pair of them sighed, and spoke in unison; “Where were you?”

“Uh… well, y’know how it is! Traffic jam in Cyber City; I tell ya, with those cars, ya don’t know if you’re comin’ or goin’, and by goin’ I mean going to the-”

“And you think Mr. Tenna is going to believe THAT?!?”

Mike turned his head towards a very distinct laugh; Shuttah, the studio’s resident camerathing, couldn’t help but stand out from the crowd. It seemed to be hanging out with a small group of friends, all three of them giggling together.

“Oof, better not let the boss hear that one!”

“Yeah, after what happened with that mailman guy?? You’d better hope he’s not too mad at you already!!”

Mike’s throat dried up, and so did most of his excuses. Mailman…? How long had it been, since he’d last caught up with what was going on? Had he ever taken the time to think about those things Tenna had been asking of him? All that personal attention, all that hands-on care that he suddenly seemed to need, completely out of the blue…?

He downed the rest of his cocktail in one gulp, coughing briefly. He scrambled for something to say, grasping at scraps of memories from Battat… the guy who’d actually lived through the scorched and blighted hellscape that the backstage had apparently become since ‘the incident’. TV World’s connection to Cyber City vanishing overnight… a deal gone wrong… a breakup… ??

Yeah, I was in WAY over my head. Turned out I hadn’t been properly “in front” while all that mess was happening… and since Mr. Tenna had been mostly holed up in his dressing room, I was pretty outta the loop…

“Guys, seriously - I was kiddin’! Can’t you tell I was kiddin’?? Sheesh, they must’a spiked that punch with somethin’ real strong - though now I’m wonderin’ who’s had more, you for not gettin’ it, or me for sayin’ that in the first place?? Am I right!?”

Despite him barely hiding his desperation, sweating and pulling at his collar, it seemed to have the intended effect this time. A few laughs, a guffaw, a giggle, and Shuttah and its entourage turned away from him, satisfied.

Mike couldn’t usually remember what exactly Battat had been doing; but he had been dragged to the front briefly as Tenna piled the pressure onto his overworked employee, baring his fangs and claws, using his towering height to his advantage to intimidate the much smaller Darkner. Something about making very important edits. Something about wanting “that rat” completely scrubbed from the record. Something about there being no excuses. Something about overtime…

His stomach dropped lower than his elevated shoes, as something dark and ugly bridged the gap between the two halves of their mind.

He remembered now. He remembered how Battat had tried to retreat as soon as Tenna started yelling, but found no relief. He remembered waking up, watching what was happening like it wasn’t really happening - like it was some kind of horror movie, and he was powerless to help its protagonist. But even from that distance, he could feel the fear. The tears threatening to spill over. The heartbeat pounding a mile a minute.

He could feel the claws digging into the front of Battat’s shirt as the hot-headed CRT - far past the point of losing his temper after being told his request was ‘impossible’ - screamed right in the Pippins’ face;

“Even if it takes you ALL DAMN NIGHT!!!”

…And dropped them into their chair like a sack of potatoes, leaving them alone in their despair.

So I thought to myself - what the hell have I been DOIN' this whole time? Gettin' drunk, gettin' indigestion, spendin' POINTs like they’re gonna expire tomorrow… oh - “la vida loca”? Yeah, funny you should ask that…

Gritting his teeth so hard it nearly cut his stogie in two, Mike set down his empty cocktail glass.

It means “the crazy life” - but at that moment, I finally got to thinkin'-

He turned to Elnina and Lanino; “I screwed up.”

-WHOSE life?

“Mike, you didn’t really-” Elnina started.

“No, listen - “ Mike interrupted. “- I screwed up. I screwed up big time, an’ I ain’t got an excuse, comedic or otherwise. I know ya really like me, I mean who doesn’t at this point, but fact is, people got hurt. They got hurt ‘cause of me, didn’t they?”

The weather-themed couple looked away from him again.

Mike scowled, his voice deadly serious; “Didn’t they.”

What was it Elnina had said - more stormy skies ahead? And looking closer, there were definitely signs they’d been crying. That was why they kept looking away… even as he watched, Elnina wiped their eye quickly. Lanino noticed Mike was looking at them as they wiped something off the end of their nose - and they just seemed ashamed, saying nothing.

Mike sighed; “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Wasn’t just my associate who got himself yelled at.”

God, I felt like such a heel. The lowest of the low. All the jokes that flopped, all the jabs in poor taste, none of it compared to realizin’ just how outta hand things had gotten. I’d been out here livin’ it up, he’d been in there workin’ himself down to dust, an’ nobody even knew his NAME.

“But that said, he is my associate - not no stinkin’ intern. He works damn hard, he puts up with more crap than most other Darkners in this room combined, an’ his name’s Battat, not Splat Flat or whatever you were yammerin’ about.”

He took the cigarillo out of his mouth, using it to point at the pair.

“He’s my work partner, an’ I expect him to get shown due respect. Capiche?”

An’ while I wasn’t the one who made the promise I’d be there… in other ways, I’d let him down.

“Oh Mike, we’re so sorry, we-”

“No.” He extinguished the stogie on a nearby ashtray, abandoning it.

I’d let him get hurt. Over and over again. ‘Cause it was never MY problem, it was never MY responsibility. Then I realized I’d just waltzed into a room full’a people who the boss had been treatin’ like garbage, an’ I’d been actin’ like everythin’ was just peachy.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

I’d let him take all that awful crap that happened to us. All the stress. The exhaustion. Feelin’ lonely, never takin’ any time to have fun. And he kept all of that away from me, let me be the only one who EVER got to cut loose, until that unexpected overtime finally tripped up our double act.

“But maybe it ain’t too late to save tonight.”

But that ain’t where this story ends.

Lanino and Elnina looked at each other, then back towards Mike.

He grinned; “Ya think anybody in here is still sober enough to be my stagehands?”

This… is where you two come in.

“Ooh! Ooh! I knows hows the rest of dis goes!” Jongler said somewhat excitedly. “Me an’ Pluey was wonderin’ why the punch tasted funny… ”

“Yeah!! We just happened to be near each other when he asked me about it, we got talking and turned out we were both just there for the cake, and it still hadn’t been cut!!”

“I asked Pluey if it figured it’d be chocolate or strawberry-”

“Or vanilla!! Or carrot, but the big boss doesn’t seem like a carrot cake guy - I think it was butterscotch in the end??”

“But ya pointed ta us an’ said we’d be good as stagehands.”

“Best decision I ever made,” Mike said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He’d long since stopped bothering to hide his voice, as odd as it probably looked coming out of ‘Battat’s’ mouth.

“And not just ‘cause of the act… ”

He smiled fondly at the more pleasant memories of that night. Once he’d got up there and got everybody’s attention, he’d started with his usual opener…

“I tells ya ladies an’ gentlemen and everybody besides - I tells ya, I get no respect! Whadda I get?”

He raised his hands, playing to the crowd, who shouted back; “NO RESPECT!”, with a few scattered cheers.

“That’s right! I mean I tells ya, I tells ya, even with the weather I get no respect! Like I said to Elnina-”

He pointed to her in the crowd, as Jongler - quickly deputized into being Mike’s stagehand - moved a spotlight. From how her cheeks had bulged, she must have nearly spat out her drink, and Mike had to compose himself for a moment to stop himself from laughing.

“Hey there sweetheart… ” He crooned, doing a ‘shy’ little wave that made the crowd erupt with laughter. “Are you and Lanino still free Saturday night… ?”

“Anyways, anyways… call me sometime… ANYWAYS!” - more laughter - “I says to Elnina I says hey, how about a little less rain today? She says sure, and it started to hail!”

A well-timed rimshot on the drumkit from Pluey, and he’d taken a moment to bask in the sound of hilarity. He rattled off hit after hit, every one of them getting big laughs… but all for a reason other than just the attention he craved.

“I tells ya even Shuttah don’t give me no respect! Shuttah, everybody’s favorite camerathing! NO respect! I says to it “Hey, can you take my picture?” - it said sure, and took it straight to the shredder!”

Ah, that one had been a doozy. And just like he’d been hoping, probably curious about all the ruckus, a certain somebody was peeking his CRT head into the back of the room, behind the audience. Ah, that figured… whenever Tenna lashed out, he always went to his dressing room to sulk and feel sorry for himself afterwards…

“So anyway, gettin’ to the meat of this set, ‘cause ya can’t have any cake if ya don’t get a balanced meal… what’s the deal with TV dinners??”

The crowd cheered; and looking towards the door, he definitely saw Tenna’s antennae stand up, showing he was taking an interest in the set even more than before. Mike grinned even wider; enough of these small fry, time to reel in the big one!

“I mean that’s the thing about those dinners, right? They’re practically a story all on their own.” He paused for effect, and raised an eyebrow. “A mystery, that is. I mean who knows what goes in ‘em? Maybe ask the butler.”

A few chuckles. Tenna was already smirking.

“My last TV Dinner though; I tells ya ladies an’ not-ladies, I tells ya, that was a horror movie! I bit into my hot dog and it was empty! Can ya believe it?? Turns out, it was a Hollow Weenie!”

Another rimshot, and Tenna covered his mouth; he was fighting hard, but Mike was determined to put his boss in a good mood by the end of the night if it killed him. If nothing else, he owed that to Battat. He owed that to everyone. After tonight, they wouldn’t have to deal with him lashing out for the next month. He was gonna give him something to laugh about for weeks from now - kill ‘em, slay ‘em, knock ‘em dead in the aisles!

He was going to do something he’d practically never done before, and go to work.

“But that’s nothin’ - I was askin’ myself, why don’t all the TV Dinners have veggies? Good thing that things like us can’t get scurvy, am I right? Well anyway, here’s a possible explanation… I was backstage the other day, and I saw a big ol’ pile’a spinach walk into one of the changin’ rooms! An’ I asked the guy there, I asked him hey, is that what’s for dinner??”

“An’ he just turns to me an’ he says no… no no no… no…. that’s just the salad, dressing!”

One perfectly-timed ba-dum tssh and Tenna was finally getting a good, unrestrained laugh; but no, that wasn’t nearly enough. He’d swallowed the bait, and now he was right in the palm of the comedian’s hand as he walked forward, right to the edge of the stage. His hand gripped the microphone like a weapon, and he pointed straight at his target.

Time to bring it home.

“But I tells ya folks, I tells ya, there is a reason those meals are so high sodium! And it’s ‘cause Mr. Tenna over there puts his sweat an’ tears into every single one! No wonder they’re so salty!”

The Darkners in the crowd erupted; and Mike felt his shoulders finally relax. Hearing him up on the stage had been enough to bring Tenna out of hiding… and he’d successfully diverted all that attention to the guy who needed it most.

“Good evening, TV World!!!”

Waving to the crowd, Tenna started to walk back towards the stage - following Mike’s hand signal, Jongler was tracking him with the spotlight every step of the way. And once he got up here, the reliable Zapper would know exactly when to wheel out the cake.

“I gotta tell ya though folks,” Mike continued; “Outta all the TV Dinners we got, Vegan Salisbury Steak has gotta be my favorite…”

Knowing Tenna was too distracted to see his face - he put a hand to his throat, dramatically pantomiming as if he was gagging on something, and drawing a collective chuckle from their audience.

“I really can’t get enough, really. It’s the best. So, Mr. Tenna… Tenna, sweetie… honey… gravy… my bestest best friend in the entire world… “

He patted the back of his boss’ knee, really hamming it up, not just making Tenna better but look better, by making himself look like some kind of kiss-ass. It was a good thing he was used to thinking on his feet - because not only had the big boss missed most of his own party, he’d apparently tried to drown his sorrows in his dressing room. His shirt was untucked, and even from all the way down where he was, Mike could smell the liquor on him.

Even knowing what he’d said and done, to Battat and everyone else… Mike genuinely felt sorry for Tenna. Obviously ‘the incident’ had been eating him up inside; he’d been miserable for most of the night, and he’d definitely be feeling this in the morning.

But if he kept just enough eyes on The Act…

“Make sure ya poison THAT one when ya wanna kill me for that joke - NOT the Buffalo Chicken Deluxe!”

The crowd loved it. And nobody paid any attention to the swaying CRT next to him, despite him wearing his tie like a bandanna.

“Happy Plug-In Day, big boss!”

And that was it. The cake was cut as Pluey hit the button to play “for he’s a jolly good fellow”, and Mike could rest easy knowing he could reap the rewards. After and act like that, all he’d have to do was ask and he’d get whatever his heart desired. And especially given the big boss was swaying and hiccuping as he gave him a big hug at the end of the night, he could have gone totally crazy.

“He’d probably have made me CEO of TV World if I’d asked nicely, y’know… but what I got outta that night was a nothin’ but an extra slice of cake to take home, and an apology for my ‘work buddy’, who couldn’t make it on account of overtime.”

Mike grinned knowingly, gesturing towards the two Darkners sitting cross-legged in front of him. “And I got somethin’ not even Mr. Tenna could give me.”

“...Us?”

“But why us??”

“Why not?” Mike said, shrugging. “I mean, I ain’t gonna yank ya chain around… I picked you guys because ya looked sober. No other reason for it. I just figured it’d work out somehow, ‘cause I dunno - things usually tend to when I’m involved. Kinda ironic that the guy who don’t identify as a Pippins ends up bein’ the lucky one, right?”

He exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke. Yeah, he really was lucky… but that had come at a cost, and his side of the bargain was long overdue. This wasn’t going to make up for every stupid, impulsive, undeniably selfish thing he’d ever done, but it could be a good start. A chance to make amends. Bridge that gap with something better than a waking nightmare.

“But, look - I’m sorry I got you two roped into this without tellin’ ya what was actually goin’ on. If ya want me to rip up the contracts then I can, and ya can both walk outta here scot free, no questions asked, paycheck in the mail. But I meant it when I said ya got chops - an’ Battat thinks very highly of you two, even if he ain’t good at puttin’ it into words.”

Leaning forward, he extinguished the last of his cigarette.

“If ya do decide to stay, though… more than underlings, I think he could use some friends. An; you guys seemed to be havin’ fun, least from what I could see ‘from the back’.”

Mike smiled warmly.

“So whaddya say… ?”

Chapter Text

It just didn’t make sense. No matter what way he looked at it, it just didn’t add up.

Today was supposed to be his day off. It was supposed to be a rare break; a reprieve from the hectic schedule that always happened in December. The Dreemurr family were out shopping in the next town over and would be gone all day - a fact Battat had learned against his will when Tenna loudly commented on the continued under-performance of the Home Shopping Network over the PA system.

The announcement had been punctuated with what sounded like tearful sobbing, but that garnered him little sympathy from the Green Pippins who’d been woken up far too early by it. He knew how it was going to end - Tenna’s bad mood would brew away silently for hours like a neglected pot of coffee on a hotplate, until it eventually boiled over and spilled, becoming everyone else’s problem. And he had far more problems to deal with right now.

Battat picked up the notes he’d made, taking a deep breath.

Okay, once more, from the top…

The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor. He’d fainted, or at least that was what Jongler and Pluey had told him… but neither of them had bothered to call in a Medic.

The Green Pippins tapped his pen against his lower lip, considering the situation very carefully. TV World had never had much in the way of healthcare… and ever since the connection to Cyber City fell through and all the friendly Ambyu-Lances went home, Tenna’s solution to everything was to grab a cheap TV Dinner, which of course would cost you POINTs…

Probably so you’d have something else to complain about, am I right?

Battat shook his head, ignoring that intrusive thought. God, shut up!!

Yikes, talk about a tough crowd…

He sighed heavily, trying to focus again. Darkners could heal each other under specific circumstances, but a healer had to be kind, and kindness was often hard to come by in the times since The Incident.

Jongler and Pluey, though…

He doodled a couple of crude caricatures of the pair’s heads in the margins as the gears in his head turned. They were idiots, both of them, so it’d make sense if at least one of them had been soft-hearted enough to give a shit about the likes of him.

Since when was carin’ about somebody a stupid thing to do, murmured his intrusive thoughts.

Battat made a point of ignoring them this time, and circled both the little doodles. So they’d healed him, probably. That, at least, would explain why they hadn’t just made it someone else’s problem. And Jongler had probably been the one to lift him into the chair he woke up in. So that tracked. One small mystery solved.

But what didn’t track was the fact that he’d woken up with his mouth tasting of cigarettes.

Eh, I’m… sure there’s a reasonable explanation for that… ?

And there was that weird six-pack of cheap beer - he definitely hadn’t bought it, but for some reason every ime he intended to throw it in the trash, he promptly forgot. Before the evening started he’d sworn there were four cans left, now there were just two! And he couldn’t have possibly taken them himself and forgotten about it!

No boozin’ or schmoozin’, huh?

Alcohol is the last thing I need when I’m stressed! It makes EVERYTHING so much worse! That’s why I don’t drink!! Especially on the job!!!

Battat leaned down; he’d been gesturing wildly - as he often did - without thinking about it, and dropped his pen. But as he sat up, he felt strangely lightheaded; he coughed. Coughed again. They struggled to catch their breath for a moment, like there was something pressing down on their chest. Just outside their perception, Mike reacted with increasing concern, practically ‘one foot in the front’ as Battat gasped for air.

But just as quickly as it started, the violent cough subsided, and the chair creaked as Battat leaned back in it. The coughing could easily be put down to one too many cigarettes, especially with how things had been lately… but now the adrenaline rush was forcing them to pay more attention, they realized how much they’d been ignoring.

His limbs felt like lead weights; his fingers were stiff, and felt  cold. He put a shaking hand to his forehead; he was sweating profusely, but there was none of the typical burning heat of a fever.

Am I getting sick… ?

Battat sighed; there had to be something that could perk him up enough to keep going. The nicotine cravings were kicking in, and he was very tempted to reach for a cigarette, but that wouldn’t help with the coughing… and he felt like coffee would barely put a dent in this sudden, overwhelming exhaustion.

They just felt so worn out. So heavy. They’d been up late last night as usual, and after this morning’s rude awakening, they’d hardly had a chance to rest…

Maybe I’ve been working too hard?

Gee, ya think?

Battat yelped and whipped round instinctively.

“Who’s there!?”

Mike stayed uncharacteristically silent; he’d been so caught up in his own worry, he hadn’t realized he was that close to them??

Battat smacked the side of his head with his fist. Ugh, intrusive thoughts… !

He could swear they were getting - not louder, but more intense? No, no... it was more like they were closer. He’d looked behind him because he could have sworn he’d heard that inner voice like it was speaking right into his ear.

God, I really am losing my mind…

They chuckled, bitterly. What was he thinking? It was the same as always; him, a desk, a trash can constantly overflowing with empty beverage containers, and not a single soul otherwise. This was the home he’d chosen after leaving the Card Kingdom. This was the life he’d chosen, with a steady diet of caffeine, nicotine, and half-eaten, unpalatable food…

Ya know ya could change that, right?

Battat waved his hand dismissively, like he was shooing away an irritating fly. He was fine. He had his work, and his purpose, and still in front of him was a web of mysteries that still needed-

Their stomach growled loudly.

…Ya skipped breakfast again, didn’t ya, dummy.

Now Battat was the one growling - in frustration, as he covered his face with his hands. Reaching under his desk, he grabbed one of his emergency stash of canned coffee drinks, popped it open, and took a swig. It was even more lousy at room temperature, but the sugar would keep him going for now, and he’d get at least a little more time to figure this out before he was forced to get lunch.

Mike muttered a few choice curses under his breath, and went ignored.

Returning to his notes, Battat drew a circle around the words “HOW DID THEY KNOW”.

He hadn’t had a chance to stop and think about it that night. But now, with a somewhat clearer head, much less to do, and more time to think, he’d finally realized that someone must have told Jongler and Pluey about Tenna’s wardrobe malfunction. He circled a few more things he’d written down, using lines to connect them together.

The boss insists on sampling everything so it meets his standards… and the Lightners have been watching all those cooking shows… so it figures he’d overdo it one too many times. It can't have been an inside job, can it... ?

But rather than answering any questions, it just raised further questions. No, no - even if they’d deliberately sabotaged Tenna’s already abused girdle, they couldn’t have rigged it like some kind of timed bomb. Maybe they’d predicted when it would happen? But then they’d have needed to know about Tenna’s taste-testing habit, and as far as Battat could recall…

“Oh Mike, you HAVE to try one of these, they just melt in your mouth!”

He’d been right there with him, in costume, that afternoon. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been doing… not unusual for him and his constant memory gaps… but he would have noticed if there was anyone else around, especially acting suspiciously. Things like that usually stuck out in his mind, even if he forgot the details.

So it happened at random, but they acted quick calling in Jongler and Pluey…

The pair seemed to think he’d been the one giving them instructions - but whoever this impostor really was, they must have told them what to do and where to go the very moment disaster struck. That meant they must have been in a position to see what was going on… either down on the set somewhere, or somewhere up above it, or maybe even-

Battat’s stomach growled again, more insistently this time, and he set his pen down. He was starting to lose his grip, starting to lose his concentration… and the one who’d been waiting in the wings finally took his cue.

Stepping in, Mike opened a seldom-used drawer on the right side of the desk. One of the many odd little quirks that came with their situation, was that while Battat was and always had been a southpaw - he was exclusively right-handed. So he was often able to sneak things into his “associate’s” field of view while he was zoning out, taking advantage of the natural blind spot from his non-dominant hand, and planting the seeds of an idea by making them think they’d done it.

In this case; that meant planting a take-out menu directly in front of them, right on top of their notes.

He picked up the receiver of the touch-tone phone next to them, and dialled the number. Battat looked down, blearily, at the piece of paper, briefly re-gaining awareness.

Take-out… ? Well… I guess it’d mean I don’t have to deal with the noise in the cafeteria… what’s the cheapest option again… ? Maybe just a coffee…

Oh no you don’t!

Mike snatched back control without the slightest bit of resistance; and it was no wonder, as soon as he got himself situated again he realized he was starving. He glanced over the options; his go-to would be pastries and plenty of ‘em, but what did Battat even like besides coffee and cigarettes? Did he even like those things?

I can’t believe I don’t even know what ya eat…

“Whaddaya want?” came a somewhat irritated-sounding voice from the end of the line.

“Uh…”

Mike’s finger landed on something that checked all the boxes; balanced ingredients, big portion, and a near-universal appeal. Battat seemed to have a problem with treating food like it was just fuel for a work machine; they didn’t seem to register texture or flavor, just choking down whatever was put in front of them. But it was hard to go wrong with a classic breakfast sandwich, and he’d make it the way he’d have it - if his associate happened to co-incidentally like it, then he’d chalk that up to a win.

“Lemme get the Executive A.M. on a challah bun. Chicken sausage patty, extra cheese slice, don’t skimp on the spread.”

“Uh-huh. That comes with-”

“Yeah, fruit cup or potatoes… “ - His stomach grumbled again - “Lemme get both, actually. I’ll pay the extra.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“Yeah; hold the blue caviar this time!” Mike snickered, hoping to get at least a chuckle out of the beleaguered employee, but only an exasperated sigh answered him.

Mike hesitated for a moment; he’d always been the one eating the food, but he’d never stopped to consider the poor shmucks making it. He could hear something in the background like yelling, and a clattering of pots and pans… with nobody on set for the day, no doubt they were swamped as everybody but them treated themselves.

Sure is hard to stop carin’ once you start… heh, I guess there really are some things more addictin’ than cigarettes.

“Anything else, sir?”

What’s our POINTs balance again… ? Eh, well... it is the holidays…

“Sir?”

He grinned, switching flawlessly to his own, very distinctive voice.

“Have the whole order delivered to my associate’s room - the Green Pippins by the name’a Battat… oh, an’ tack on a ‘Fresh From The Juice’, large. Make sure not to get it on ya shoose!”

He chuckled at his own joke; “Heheh… an’ since ya been so good to me this fine mornin’, how ‘bout I call in a lil’ favor with our bartender? A round a’ beers for the entire mornin’ shift courtesy of Motormouth Mike, maybe? Once ya get the time, of course… ”

A long pause.

“...Is this a prank?”

“Oh, ya want proof, do ya?”

I’ll give ya proof alright…

Mike took a sip of canned coffee, cleared his throat, and belted out; “♫ Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars… ♪”

“Holy-!!”

“♪ Let me see what spring is like, on Jupiter and Mars ♫”

There was some shuffling on the other end of the line; from how the noise suddenly increased, Mike guessed they’d put him on speaker.

“♫ In other words, hold my hand… in other words, darling kiss me… ♪”

He grinned even wider at the ensuing commotion; they didn’t call him the microphone that croons and groans for nothing!

“That enough proof for ya, pal?”

“Yes sir Mr. Motormouth, sir!! What flavor would you like your juice??”

“C’mon, Mr. Motormouth was my father’s name - call me Mike.” He said warmly, glad to hear the employee’s mood turn around. They were smiling so wide he could hear it.

“And tell your juice guy, uh… “ Mike’s concentration faltered as he felt Battat start to ‘wake up’. Better wrap this up; “Surprise me! Just make it snappy if ya can - my associate’s gonna be back any minute!”

“Of course Mr. Mike sir! We’ll get on it right away! Top priority! Have a great-”

He slammed down the receiver just in time for their eyes to start blinking confusedly. Battat re-took the front, immediately sliding the menu to one side and re-focusing on his work without missing a beat, and Mike found himself watching him. Not watching and waiting for a chance to step in or rattle off a jab or a one-liner, but just watching… trying to shed some light on a mystery of his own.

Pick up pen. Write more notes. Draw lines. Make frustrated noises; look for their cigarettes, make more frustrated noises, start cursing up a storm. Find their cigarettes, curse some more while they look for their lighter. Light up. Take a long drag. Stare at the page again…

Mike scratched his head; it was hard to believe this was the guy he shared a weird double-life with. He was so single-mindedly focused on the task in front of him, he’d completely forgotten about his coughing fit and was puffing away like a chimney.

Hmmm…

Nope; he just didn’t get it. Battat lived like he’d die if he didn’t work; he’d spend all his points on stimulants so he could work longer, to earn more points, to buy more stimulants so he could work longer. The only time fun ever seemed to be involved was when they put on the costume… but it wasn’t them having that fun.

That’s… actually kinda sad. Actually really sad. No wonder he’s such a grouch.

He’d never really thought about it much until now; not until he started thinking about Battat as his own person, and not just a patsy he could use to shoulder the consequences of his actions. But now he’d started thinking about it, he found he couldn’t stop.

Like when the head went on, and he woke up… Battat did what, exactly? They couldn’t be taking a nap; Mike’s own time away from front always felt like a rest, and he’d come back feeling fresh as a daisy. But his associate never seemed to feel rested; it was like when they were gone, they were really gone. And they never said or did anything, never stepped in, took over, or made any attempt to talk like he did. They just seemed to fade away, sinking  into some dark and unreachable place where he couldn’t even feel their presence any more.

And he felt awful about that.

Mike groaned; Why did things have to get this complicated… ?

He already knew the answer, of course. Schmoozing was his thing; it helped him get what he wanted, and what he wanted was attention and all the finer things in life, or so he’d thought. He had plenty of friends, and his acquaintances were a dime a dozen. If he’d been so inclined, he could have taken a lover, or two, or more. All he had to do was sing a few bars to prove he was legit, and Darkners would move heaven and earth for the legendary Motormouth Mike.

But this entire time, he’d never really thought about what it meant to care about someone. And seeing Battat still unable to relax or let go of anything, even on their day off?

Ya really don’t know I’m here, do ya?

He felt that pang of sympathy again, putting his hand over his heart.

Ya have no idea there’s anyone who gives a damn.

No response, of course.

How much does it hurt - bein’ that alone, all the time… ?

He wished he could ask. He wished he could know. But Battat was in the midst of another coughing fit - this one even worse than the last - and that immediately brought Mike’s train of thought to a screeching halt.

“Fucking… writer’s cramp… ” They wheezed, extinguishing the cigarette. “Ugh, I really need to quit these fucking things…”

The Green Pippins hacked and coughed one last time, taking a sip of coffee to soothe their parched and scratchy throat. He rubbed his left hand, stretching out his fingers; there was that feeling again. Stiff, numb, and oddly tingly.

“And why is it so cold in here??”

He shivered, and pulled on the cape that had been hanging on the back of his chair.

Just outside his awareness, Mike felt a creeping sense of dread. There was a thought poking at the edge of his mind; something that just didn’t bear thinking about.

No… no, it can’t be… can it?

Battat sighed, flexing his fingers. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent working on this, but what else did he even have to do today? Sure, he could probably still grab something to eat, but he usually got by just fine on coffee alone… it wasn’t really like he’d enjoy anything anyway…

Mike tried something; he called up a memory, felt the warmth of it blossom in his chest, and cupped that feeling gently with his hands. He couldn’t see what he was doing, if what he was doing even looked like anything, but he pushed it in Battat’s direction - doing whatever he could to make him remember. To make him feel those feelings again.

Ya don’t remember the other night?

The other night…? Battat scratched his head. Where had that thought come from?

The other night was fun! Ya got to screw around, cut loose… I bet Pluey just loved havin’ somebody to play around with, the kid loves a harmless prank…

…Wasted a lot of valuable time… but I haven’t laughed like that in how long… ?

And the Deluxe Dinner really made it worthwhile, right? Delicious veggies in a rich creamy sauce… buttery flakey crust… didn’t it just warm ya right up, like a big cuddly blanket?

Battat sighed; he had to admit to himself, it did. It did feel warm, and tasted surprisingly good, too. In fact, something about that whole meal had seemed to fill an empty space that wasn’t just in his stomach…

Mike smiled to himself; That’s more like it.

Would’ve been even better, though, if somebody didn’t eat HALF MY DAMN BROWNIE-!

Mike cringed - Ah, crap…

But if nothing else, at least Battat seemed re-energized; he grabbed his pen again, going from point to point on the page, his mind racing.

It couldn’t have been Jongler, that was for certain. Not liking chocolate was the whole reason they’d swapped desserts with him in the first place - and they weren’t smart or mean-spirited enough to mess with him on purpose. As for Pluey, when he’d realized there was a piece missing, he’d confronted it first, only for them to explain through Jongler’s translations that they were lactose intolerant.

And sure enough, when Battat had made a point of checking, the Deluxe Dinner packaging still in the trash read “Vegan Chee-Z Enchiladas” in friendly green letters. He’d had to back off at that point, and apologize. He’d guessed nobody would willingly subject themselves to a fake cheese substitute unless they had to… though Pluey had insisted it really wasn’t that bad, and had even offered to treat him to some vegan nachos sometime to prove it.

But all of this - all of this - pointed to one thing, and one thing only. Someone was sneaking around. Someone was doing things behind his back. The only question is… he grabbed a green pen, flipped over the page, and wrote one word, underlining it several times for emphasis.

WHO

Then came the knock at the door.

Mike watched the scene unfold in front of him like an awkward comedy; Battat’s confusion over the order “he” had apparently placed. The small, blue delivery Pippins - Huh, they actually make ‘em that small? An’ Battat’s already one short stack’a pancakes - was awkwardly trying to hand it over, saying it was already ‘on Mike’s tab’ .

It was almost like watching TV… in fact, there was a vague sense that he was looking at some kind of screen…

Huh… it does kinda look like a big screen, don’t it?

Where he went while he was taking a nap, where he was when he was ‘close’ to Battat but not in control… those were things he’d never really thought about before. But the more he stuck around, the more time he had to think, and the more it felt like something was slowly coming together. Something he couldn’t quite understand yet, but he felt close.. so close, in fact…

So close I can literally touch it!

‘Cause that was the thing… even when he wasn’t in control, he was starting to feel things - physical things! Like how he’d put his hand to his chest earlier, and it had felt like his actual, white-gloved hand on his actual, more than slightly squishy chest! Something like that shouldn’t be possible without the costume that effectively became his body, but it seemed something about that magic went a little deeper than that…

Battat took the takeout containers and closed the door. They were still in control; and Mike found that whenever he felt himself move a part of his body or shift his position, they weren’t affected at all. They were looking at their Fresh From The Juice somewhat skeptically - apparently whatever ‘surprise me’ was had resulted in a drink with a striking purple-to-pink gradient.

That looks… interestin’? Wonder what it tastes like…

He stopped himself; no. Battat needed to have a decent meal, and he needed to figure out what this whole thing was.

Mike tried more extreme movement; punching, kicking, flapping his arms like wings. Still no effect on what Battat was doing, but he could feel it all the same. Was he floating? Could he just not tell where the ground was? Was there any ground?

That’s a good question…

Trying to imagine ground to stand on might be too much of a moonshot… after all he couldn’t see anything, not even his own body… but hey, his own body could be a start, couldn’t it? He knew the back of his hand like the back of his hand!

Okay; let’s try this.

He tried to concentrate on the feeling of where his hand was in space. He tried to visualize it; the white glove, the stubby fingers. Waving his hand in front of his face, he could… maybe… nearly… almost see it? But only if he squinted so hard he could feel a headache coming on, and the sheer effort left him reeling in whatever nebulous, half-invisible void he was currently hanging out in.

Ugh… okay, that was… that was a mistake…

But hey; he could look on the bright side! That meant he had a head that could ache, he had a stomach to feel sick to, and no costume required! And with Battat currently occupied with a damn good breakfast sandwich, he had all the more reason to keep pushing, keep exploring… if just so he wasn’t tempted to snatch the front - and a bite - for himself!

This is so weird… like tryin’ to find a light switch in the dark, but the light switch is you…

And the more he tried, the more of him he confirmed was there, the more solid and real it all felt. His hands on his face, a finger tracing the edge of his toothy grin… and yup, that was his signature combover, too! Moving downwards, he found the shape of his shirt collar, and his thumb and forefinger rubbed the familiar fabric of his jacket. He could wiggle his feet inside his shoes; even feel the silky touch of his bowtie, almost as real as the one he’d worn the night of Tenna’s party.

Holy cow, this is so weird!

Weird, but exhilarating - exciting - incredible! It bubbled up inside him and tickled him to the point he couldn’t help but laugh; he was in his body while still being in this one!

BAHAHAHA! If only that guy could see this - HAH, they’d absolutely flip! He’d spin around so quick, he wouldn’t know a six from a three! He’d… they'd...

The euphoric sensation quickly faded as Mike thought back to what happened earlier; to the never-ending grind that seemed to eat up Battat’s entire life. He thought back to the coughing fits… the numbness that Battat had repeatedly complained about… even feeling cold in a room that was heated for the winter. They couldn’t enjoy food. They couldn’t feel rested from sleep. They couldn’t even let themself laugh properly.

He was still struggling to understand; trying to learn from his mistakes, trying to push the boundaries of what had been his reality. But a bigger picture was starting to come together, and one thing was for sure - he couldn’t do this alone.

They need to feel this for themself.

Meanwhile, back in the room, and completely unaware of the tectonic shift that was taking place inside his head - Battat took another bite.

They probably looked a mess. No doubt they were making even more of a mess as they snatched up a couple of circular potato slices, fried to golden perfection like edible dubloons, used them to mop up the mix of egg yolk and creamy chipotle sauce from the takeout container, and popped them into their mouth… but they didn’t care. They were completely enraptured by the euphoria of a damn good breakfast sandwich, and finally narrowing things down to one - just one - final question.

Wiping off his left hand with a napkin, he grabbed his green pen again.

“Mike’s tab, they said… “ Battat mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. “... Mike sent me, they said… ”

The green text now read; WHO IS THE REAL MIKE?

I’ll find you, Mike. I’ll find you, whoever and wherever you are, Battat thought to himself, stifling a burp.

And no amount of breakfast bribery is gonna stop me.

Chapter Text

Mike wasn’t sure how long it had been. A few days now, maybe?

He’d been paying attention, on and off, to what Battat had been doing when they weren’t focusing on making TV Time happen. Giving him a little push in the right direction here and there, making sure he ate and slept, but mostly laying low. And he didn’t have to worry about tonight; Battat was supposed to be eating dinner with Pluey and Jongler, and with luck, they’d actually be able to go down to the cafeteria together.

Heh, Battat probably wants to talk to ‘em about “the real Mike” again…

Meanwhile, the very real Mike inside their head took a step back; holding out his hands, framing the scene like he was looking through a camera lens. Satisfied for now, he nodded, deciding to take five.

He’d been worried, initially, that the two of them wouldn’t keep their word. Not that they weren’t loyal, not that they didn’t understand why - but because he knew they’d feel bad to just outright lie to someone’s face like that. They were good people, they wouldn’t want to deceive someone who was desperate for answers… but to Mike’s relief, Battat never really asked for the pair’s opinions. They just wanted someone to listen to them. They just wanted someone to tell them they’re “not crazy”.

But Jongler and Pluey were as patient as they were kind; they were slowly introducing him to the idea of getting them to step in instead of trying to do everything himself. And that was helped by the fact the big boss saw no difference between them if they played the role. “Mike” seemed to be almost like Tenna’s mental shorthand for “the guy who helps out when he’s needed the most”... Mike himself hoped he could live up to that for real, someday.

For now, though? For now, he’d been busy. He was slowly figuring this out. Things were starting to take shape.

He found the vaguely chair-shaped lump that had appeared earlier and sat down on it; there was a slight delay before his ample weight sank into what, with luck, would eventually be a cushion. It wasn’t quite real enough yet; not enough to ‘remember’ what it was supposed to be right away. But a place to sit was a place to sit, and he could admire the rest of his handiwork from here.

Ain’t that just somethin’, he thought to himself; Better than the whole lot of nothin’ that was here before!

He’d started out at the most basic level; once he realized he had a body here inside his head, he’d focused on trying to see it, even just for a moment. And once he could see his feet - no easy task with this gut in the way, he chuckled to himself as he reminisced - he could ‘realize’ there had to be a floor for them to stand on. A floor he could feel beneath his feet… and so, with a little imagination and a lot of concentration, there was.

He’d made a few other things since then; imagining them into life as he thought up what they’d look like, what they’d feel like. He’d started out small, with a rug that would at least keep him off the cold, hard floor. When that succeeded, he’d made something a little bigger; a small bedside table, an exact copy of the one in Battat’s room. Then he’d admittedly gone a little crazy, and pulled an entire bed straight from his wildest dreams - a huge, overstuffed thing with thick, plush blankets and pillows that felt like being wrapped up in a cloud.

Makes it kinda obvious what my priorities are, huh… but who the heck’s even gonna judge me in here?

What was strange, though, was how other things had shown up seemingly of their own accord. There was a streetlamp - an old-fashioned one, like from ‘Singing In The Rain’. And of course he’d done that bit where he’d twirled around it just for the hell of it, but that didn’t answer his question of where it came from. It felt almost like it had always been there - just waiting for someone to come along and notice it.

And whenever it was lit, it shed a light that showed the boundaries of what was becoming a little world of his own. Inside its light was everything he’d made, and out there was… not much of anything. Just empty, featureless floor; grey and slightly dusty, like concrete. And a dense fog that obscured anything else past a certain point… the one time he’d tried to feel his way through it, he’d somehow been turned around and sent back the way he came.

Mike got up; in his time sitting on it, the half-formed thing beneath him had fashioned itself into a plush, comfortable armchair. But that bed was calling to him - or to be more specific, what was there when he lay down on it, looking up.

He hadn’t been expecting to see stars.

The sight almost took his breath away when he’d first discovered it; he’d stared upwards into the inky blackness, and tilted his head back so far that he overbalanced and fell. He’d taken a moment to lament his uncharacteristic clumsiness, and the fact his poor bruised keister could apparently still feel pain in here… but he’d realized, laying flat on his back, what they really were.

Not stars. Memories.

Things like perspective and scale didn’t exist here… or at least not yet, maybe. Mike figured it was like getting things ready for a set; someone could hold the moon in their hands, and it’d just be a prop about the size of a soccer ball. But once the scene was set; it would be very big, very far away, and it would be the moon, because that was what needed to be true.

And there was some of that same television magic in him; how else could the suit literally become his body, when it was him in the driver’s seat? The head’s mouth would have aligned with Battat’s eyes to let him look through the teeth; but that very same mouth could smoke stogies, eat hors d'oeuvres, even give a big ol’ kiss if he felt like it. If someone gave him a hug, they wouldn’t feel plush stuffing beneath his jacket, but the squish of actual belly fat - and anyone close enough or short enough would hear the breath in his lungs, and the steady thump of his heartbeat. He was as real as anyone could be in a Dark World.

Things here were only ever as real as they needed to be, or so it seemed. But he was used to working with that.

So all it took was for him to pinch his fingers together, and he felt it come away in his hand - a memory, a star pulled right out of the sky above, as easy as pulling a thumbtack from a corkboard. He cupped it in his hands around it, just like he’d done countless times before. This place had never been real enough before for him to actually see it happen… but how it looked just seemed right, somehow. It weighed almost nothing at all, its soft glow pulsing like a slow heartbeat, while a familiar warmth unfurled in his chest.

Almost on instinct, he held it close.

And before he could react, a rush like water swept him off his feet. He felt like he was trapped in a raging river, but as he dared to open his eyes he could see it was made of stars; thousands of them, millions of them, the seconds and minutes that made up a memory. Laughter rang in his ears as loud as clanging church bells as he rushed ever onward, faster and faster as he plunged headfirst into that memory… and he was there again.

He was there in the hallway, his night of drinking finally catching up to him, Pluey and Jongler helping him to the door of the Control Room. Everything else had fallen away and he was re-living it, beat for beat. The cameras were rolling, and he was firmly locked into playing his character, so drunk he was staggering and swaying worse than Tenna had on the stage.

“ONE MORE TIME!” He yelled, nearly tripping over his own feet, belting out a familiar tune.

♫ Show me the way to go home… ♪

“Come on, Jongler, ya know the words by now!”

Mike laughed heartily as Jongler, at about half the song’s tempo, slowly and methodically sang along.

♫ I’m tireds and I wants ta goes ta bed… ? ♪

“Take it, Pluey!”

♫ Mike had a little drink ‘bout an hour ago, and it’s gone right to his head-!! ♪

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Who needs - hic! - who needs a band when I gots my own personal Shadowguy?? An’ a real nice zapper too, it’s great, I tells ya! I tells ya, my - hic! - my amazin’ luck comes through once again! Take that, ya Card Kingdom rubes!”

He collapsed into an office chair; “WHOOPEE!”

Mike giggled in amusement as it spun around and around from the impact, kicking his feet. Then he hiccuped, more violently this time. He burped. And by the time Jongler heard his nauseated groans and stopped the spinning with a gentle hand, his face was nearly as green as the walls of the room downstairs.

“Okay, that… urgh… that was not the smartest decision I’ve made all night… besides maybe stayin’ with the boss fer a few more drinks… hhhhow many did I even… ?”

He hiccuped again, leaning over the desk and groaning weakly. Pluey, with a look of concern on its face, set down a glass of water in front of him.

“Oh my god, Pluebert, I owe you my ffffreakin’ life…  ” Mike slurred, taking a big swig, gesturing vaguely in what could have been the complete wrong direction. “The-the second drawer on the right, Jongles. Under the - hic! - under the papers and, and all that crap. There’s some big white pills-”

“On it, boss!”

He didn’t even have to lift a finger; Pluey had already fetched another cup of water, Jongler dutifully dropped the two pills into it, and Mike watched them fizz gently at the bottom of the glass until he felt well enough to down the entire thing.

“Ugh… somebody’s gonna regret this in the mornin’... if it was me, I’d probably have my head for this… ” He lamented, belching again; “Sorry, s’cuse me… ”

“Youse gonna be okay, boss?”

“I should be, long as I get a good breakfast… which I might… maybe if I order a sneaky little dozen pastries to the door before bed… ” He grinned dopily, gesturing towards the two concerned Darkners; “But you two have to be the best thing that’s happened all night! Talk about a jackpot! I mean - what were you even doin’ before now??”

“I’m just another musician, like most of us are!!” Pluey shrugged, smiling. “I really wanted to be part of the children’s show, but I think the younger Lightner aged out of it already!!”

“Ya mean like that kitty cat costume you were wearin’ on stage?” Mike said, tipping the glass upside-down over his mouth to catch any last, lingering drops of the medicine that was easing his increasingly complaining stomach. “Makes sense. Whaddabout you, tall dark an’ zappy?”

Jongler looked a little embarrassed; “Security detail… but I ain’t da best, ya know? My bosses put me someplace where I can’t get in nobody’s way… ”

“Well that’s their loss!” Mike said, slamming the cup down and startling the pair, leaning over the desk to point at them. “Both’a you got chops, an’ that ain’t just the booze talkin’!”

“It weren’t nothin’, boss… I’m just good at followin’ orders… ”

“Jongler showed up late, and I was one of the only non-drinkers at the party... ”

“So’s if ya just needed us to be sharps enough to helps ya out for tonight, we understands, boss.”

“No. Nononono. Nuh-uh. Nah. Nope.” Mike said, waving his hand back and forth. “You two - urp - you two work for me now.”

Mike had talked to enough Shadowguys that he could understand their musical lingo, but the strangled saxophone noise that Pluey made had him cracking up all the same, slapping his gloved palm on the desk as he guffawed.

“No - no, really I mean it! I mean it!” Mike chuckled, wiping a tear from where his eye would have been. “You’re gonna be perfect! I got plans after tonight, big plans, an’ I need both’a you to lighten the workload. I’ll just put in a word to the boss that I’m - urp -  takin’ on two assistants, an’ he’ll get you two on a more ssssuitable payroll, if ya catch my drift. More POINTs. I’ll make it happen, trust me, it’s what I do… ”

“You want us to be your backup Mikes??”

“Sure do, Plue!” Mike said, pointing a finger at the Shadowguy. “We’ll get your friend Jongley there set up with their own costume, an’ nobody’ll suspect a thing… I mean, I know I’m drunk right now? Like, really really drunk? But the boss falls for it every time. I mean, lookaddis, just look-”

Mike abruptly snapped back to reality, or whatever kind of “reality” this was. He rubbed his head… he remembered what happened after that very clearly.

That was when I took my costume head off… right in front of ‘em, like it was nothin’. Yeesh, what was I thinkin’?

Sure, it was late enough that Battat wouldn’t wake up until morning, costume or no costume. But he never thought he’d ever do that, not in a thousand lifetimes, not in a million years. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just that he trusted them that much, but he was glad things had worked out. He was glad they’d understood.

After all, the boss didn’t seem to care who Mike was as long as they looked enough like ‘a Mike’...

Hah, like when Battat only put on half the costume!

He grinned in amusement, sending the memory back to where it came from, and letting another one fall from the stars, landing in his outstretched palm like a trained firefly. Ah, this one was hilarious, he knew it well - Battat had been in such a hurry, he’d only managed to get the upper half of the suit on before Tenna got impatient. So when he’d ‘come up to the front’, he was teeter-tottering on scrawny little legs and tiny little feet, trying to act all cool! And the boss still hadn’t noticed!

…But then, he never had, had he? Tenna had been asking for some guy named Mike long before the costume showed up - and he’d been making that everyone else’s problem. But whoever Mike was before? He'd stepped up to fill those oversized shoes, and now he was Mike. Bada bing, bada boom.

The only thing was, now that he actually got to thinking about it again… he didn’t actually know why.

He didn’t remember what it was that had set him on this path in the first place, or when he’d stopped caring about what the boss did… or who he’d been before this. He didn’t just appear like magic along with the costume, he knew he’d been here earlier. He knew his original home was the Card Kingdom, he knew he’d always been part of the weird, quirky double act that was two guys sharing one body, even if Battat had no idea at all… but the details were so vague that it almost felt like it all happened in a dream.

Memories like that didn’t just go away, did they?

Ya sure do end up with some big questions, when ya suddenly got all the time in the world for thinkin’...

Mike looked to the stars above him for answers. He could pinpoint some vague memories of a red forest, star-shaped fruits, a castle with white walls as smooth as marble… but what little he could grasp at all was faded and weak. Maybe it really had been that long, or maybe they’d just tried to forget… but a particularly bright one close to them stood out to him like a jewel-

“Hey, what the-!?”

…And he missed??

Mike tried again. He got it this time; but the memory didn’t want to stay put. It didn’t want to hold still. It twisted and squirmed in his grasp like a live goldfish, and the more he tried, the more it wriggled and tried to slip between his fingers. He tightened his grip, catching it again and again.

“The hell are you tryin’ to hide from me??” He snarled in frustration, gritting his teeth as it slipped again; “GIVE IT BACK!”

Standing up on the bed, Mike grabbed a pillow, bent his knees, and leapt - right onto that struggling little mote of light, now pinned by his entire weight.

“Yeah, that’s right! Now I gotcha!”

He reached under the pillow, groping blindly for it.

“Who’s the boss now, huh?? Who’s the boss-YEOWCH!!!”

Mike recoiled, clutching his hand; he’d finally got the damn thing where he thought he’d wanted it, but now his whole arm felt numb. There’d been no warmth, no feelings of softness that asked to be cradled close to his heart; there was only pain. White-hot, searing pain that had shot all the way up to his shoulder like an electric shock, leaving his fingers tingling and his muscles stiff. The memory slipped out from under the pillow as he watched, returning to the sky to join its siblings.

“...I’m a real idiot, ain’t I,” he muttered to himself.

Of course they wouldn’t all be good memories. He’d only ever dealt with the good ones, but now - now he could see, now he could actually see, he could look up and see that those glittering fragments were all different. The one that was silently sliding back into place was an angry red color, glaring down at him like a bloodshot eye, and the moment he’d touched it something horrible had flickered briefly into his mind…

“This is your fault! It’s all YOUR FAULT!”

…Something, he realized, he couldn’t remember any more.

He tried again, taking a moment to flex his fingers. The numbness was going away slowly, but as for the memory... he got nothing at all. The only lingering feelings were that it had been bad, and that he probably shouldn’t touch one of those again without bracing himself.

Mike sighed, slowly making his way back towards the huge, cinema-like screen that indicated where ‘front’ was. He really needed to figure out how to get Battat’s side of the story - maybe then he’d finally get some worthwhile answers.

Wait, what’s even going on up here… ?

He paused for a moment; if dinner with Jongler and Pluey was supposed to be today, then who was this? He immediately recognized the Darkner from the costume department; you didn’t see very many Pippins dressed in purple, especially wearing a silk scarf rather than the usual tie. But it was only when he noticed those distinct drawn-on eyelashes that a name suddenly bubbled to the surface.

And suddenly, information dropped into Mike’s lap; quite literally, as apparently the world inside his head had decided this stuff was stored as papers. He had to snatch them out of the air before they could scatter too far, but each one had a photo attached that matched not just this Darkner, but the gang of other Pippins that accompanied them…

Ah, here it is…

“Fortune.” Battat said, flatly. They were starting to get a headache, so Jongler and Pluey had told them to go on ahead to the cafeteria while they finished up. “What is it this time?”

“Is that really any way to greet an old friend, hmm?” the purple Pippins smirked.

Battat sighed; “You know what I mean. Your pronouns -  what are they today.”

“Oh, those… ” Fortune said with a dismissive wave of a hand; “Either’s fine.”

Mike checked the notes; Genderfluid, uses he an’ she pronouns…

Battat’s eyelid twitched slightly; they could already feel an even worse headache coming on.

Feeling the frustration emanating from the front, Mike skimmed through the sheet to get the gist of things… Apparently she ran a rigged Shell Game, back in the Card Kingdom. That was how he’d earned the unflattering moniker ‘Ms. Fortune’; anyone who tried her game of Find-The-Dark-Dollar would suddenly find themselves on a losing streak, thanks to his incredible sleight of hand.

Battat glared at the entourage of Pippins gathered around her; “And what are all of you doing here?”

Mike flipped over to the next sheet - standing next to her must be Chance, her high-strung hanger-on, who could have been mistaken for any‘ordinary’ Pippins if not for the fact he always looked like a sweaty, messy nervous wreck.

“Getting dinner??” Chance said with a nervous giggle, pulling at his already very loosened tie; a nervous habit of his. “What, is that a crime now!?”

“And yet, you still act like selling overpriced TV Slop and telling people it’s new fusion cuisine isn’t… ” huffed a Pippins with round glasses.

“Oh my god Oppy that was literally one time!? And HOW long ago??”

Then there was Opportunity, apparently also known as Oppy; a Pippins who favored a golden yellow cape that matched their lenses. According to their rap sheet, they had a reputation for being a “sore winner”, having some of the most obnoxiously over-the top reactions to getting lucky.

Huh, that’s funny… says here they pop off like a maniac, but that ledger under their arm screams “I work in accounting”...

“It was last month, and it was easily the single dumbest scam you’ve ever tried to pull!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, so now the Pippins who took their shirt off and breakdanced on the craps table is gonna tell me what’s stupid?!?”

Mike smirked a little as the two of them butted heads like a couple of disgruntled goats; he’d bet his entire POINTs balance that they’d be an absolute laugh riot at parties. But last in the notes he’d been given was the one who was impossible to miss, looming over the pair who were now engaging in a childish slap-fight.

And I don’t need to look at your sheet to tell you work in security detail…

All Pippins were dice, technically - but Big Break was the only one built like a cube, practically as broad as they were tall. They didn’t reach the typically lofty height of a Zapper, but they still towered over the others, and it was enough that they could easily pick up one of the warring duo in each hand, holding them by their capes.

“Excuse me a moment, please?” Fortune said, taking a brief, respectful bow.

He turned towards her associates and grabbed them both by the cheek, pinching and pulling hard as they both squirmed.

“Both of you need to stop drawing attention to yourselves right this second, because if we’re going to get away with this we can’t risk being caught. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yesh, Fortune… cryshtal clear, Fortune… ”

“I’ll be quiet!! I shwear!!!”

“Good.”

She turned back towards Battat; who looked thoroughly unimpressed, and was starting to get hungry.

“...You know what, I don’t want to know.”

They walked forward, heading straight toward the giant ‘automat’ vending machine that dispensed freshly made Deluxe Dinners.

“Oh well I’m so glad you asked!”

Battat yelped - Fortune had grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him backwards. And Mike, who had already been far too close to the front, suddenly found himself not looking at things from a distance but experiencing them first-hand as the rest of the gang closed in, surrounding him on all sides.

“I mean it’s thanks to your associate that the entire kitchen staff gets one free drink on his tab… which we learned thanks to our new friend.”

Mike looked up; suddenly, climbing up onto Big Break’s shoulder, yet another Pippins appeared - this one much smaller than the others, and dressed in a bright blue. They seemed quite cheerful despite their intimidating choice of company, fidgeting with the silver chain around their neck, which it seemed they wore in place of a tie.

“Oh hey, I'm Charm! I’m, uh,  new around here - oh, and any pronouns are fine, I’m, uh, pretty flexible really... ” It said with a friendly smile; “It’s nice to meet you! Again!”

Again…?

“The delivery Pippins from the other day,” Battat muttered under their breath. “The one with the breakfast sandwich… ”

Charm didn’t seem at all nervous about the situation; and Mike, as he often did, was able to keep a level head. But he could feel the fear radiating from his associate; he could feel their shared heart pounding in their chest, and the longer this went on, the worse it seemed to get. This wasn’t good.

“Y-yeah!! And since Big Break works in the kitchens too, we figured-OOF!”

“Shut up, you idiot!” Oppy snarled, after elbowing Chance in the gut. “Do you enjoy getting in trouble or what!?”

Huh, so not security then… guess I got a couple internal biases to re-assess, Mike thought to himself.

Fortune didn’t even have to say anything; he silenced the pair just by looking at them, then turned back to face Battat with a disarming smile.

“Sorry about that. Now where were we?”

Mike raised his right hand to his mouth, clearing his throat; he could feel Battat’s fear increasing, but maybe if he could say something-

“So, when were you planning on telling us about all of this, hmm?” Fortune said, stepping forward and getting a little too close for comfort. “You and your associate seem to be pretty close, don’t you?”

“I… “ Battat spoke up first, glancing nervously to one side. “I really don’t know-”

“Oh come on, Batty, we’re really going to play this game again? When are you ever going to get bored of this, hmm??” Fortune huffed, throwing up her arms in frustration. “You didn’t even tell us you had friends in high places! I mean how else do Lanino and Elnina, Tenna’s second-in-command, both know who you are?? MIKE, of course!”

“They what??” Battat spluttered; “I… wait, what do you know about-!?”

“Are you kidding me??” Fortune was incredulous, getting right up in Battat’s face.

“Everyone knows who Mike is! He’s at every single party, shindig, soiree and ice-cream social! He’s a shameless flirt towards any Darkner with a pulse! He spends POINTs like TV World is going to be cancelled tomorrow!”

The purple Pippins was practically on top of them now, while their back pressed up against Big Break’s massive body.

“And he told the kitchen staff that he knows you.”

Fortune poked him in the chest with a finger, and Mike decided he’d seen enough; he stepped in, mimicking Battat’s voice and putting his hands up.

“Look, I… I don’t know what it is you guys want from me, but I promise I’ll put a good word in with Mike if you let me go!”

Fortune backed up a little.

“I’ll get you anything, okay? POINTs, a new job, better accommodation, a favor from Mr. Tenna - just say the word and nobody has to get hurt, alright? Nobody has to get hurt! Just- just don’t hurt me, okay? Is that okay?”

But someone did look hurt already.

It was Fortune; and he looked devastated.

Huh?? What did I say???

“You thought we were going to hurt you… ”

The deep, mournful voice came from somewhere above him, meaning it could only belong to Big Break; “Why would we ever want to hurt you… ?”

It was at that moment that Mike’s blood ran ice-cold, and his ears started to ring; he’d completely mis-read the entire situation.

Oh god… oh god, I screwed up, I screwed up bad…

“You mean it… it wasn’t just a game??” Chance said, looking like he was about to lose his mind. “You weren’t just messing with us this entire time?!?”

“All those times you said you didn’t know us… that you ‘weren’t that person any more’... you... you... you really meant it, didn’t you?” Oppy clutched their ledger like a security blanket, their arms shaking; “Y... you... You really meant it, d-d-didn’t you??”

The ringing was getting worse. His vision was starting to blur. He was barely able to register how his left hand was shaking like crazy…

“Batty… I’d understand if you hated us, after everything that happened. I’d even understand if you didn’t think we were good enough any more! I mean, now that you’re a Big Shot and shaking hands with the executives - who needs losers like us as friends, right? We must look so pathetic to you, pretending to be kitchen staff so we can scam a few free drinks!”

Friends… ? And that was what they meant by “being caught”??

“But how could you think we wanted to extort you!? I just wanted to know if you had a rich boyfriend or something! Like maybe you’d want to catch up! Throw us a bone! Just do - just do something other than look straight through us for once… ”

Fortune looked at him, her pleading eyes brimming over with tears as he clutched his scarf.

“I know you’ve always had problems with your memory, Battat, but how could you just forget us?”

Suddenly and without warning, the body’s left hand grabbed the right side of their shirt and cape, and squeezed it so hard the fabric squeaked between its fingers. It was enough to get Mike’s attention, even for a brief moment… and enough for him to realize, to his horror, that it didn’t feel like his hand.

He wasn’t the one moving it. He wasn’t the one controlling it.

Inside their head, Mike looked to the left. Sitting there, right in the middle of the cluster of tangling, thorny brambles that acted as a protective shield against the outside world, was Battat, their pupils like tiny pinpricks. Staring straight at him; the person who was controlling only the right side of their shared body.

It wasn’t the gang of Pippins that they’d been afraid of.

Chapter Text

♫ It’s a god-awful small affair, to the girl with the mousy hair… ♪

The music blasted through the speakers of the control room at full volume, but nothing would drown it out. Nothing would even come close. It wouldn’t go away, it wouldn’t stop, that horrible ringing-!

♪ But her mummy is yelling ‘No!”, and her daddy has told her to go ♫

He clutched his head in his hands like he was trying to stop it from shattering. His fingers clawed at his face like he was trying to pull off a mask he wasn’t wearing. It was in his head and he couldn’t do anything! He couldn’t do anything if it was in his head-!

♫ But her friend is nowhere to be seen, now she walks through her sunken dream ♪

And it was so much worse now he knew just how helpless he was. Now he was utterly consumed with the knowledge of just how futile it had all been; knowing there was no possible way out of this. It felt like he’d been hollowed out inside, like his head was full of ghosts and his chest was full of dust…

♪ To the seat with the clearest view, and she’s hooked to the silver screen… ♫

There he was, on the floor, with his back leaning against the control room. There he was, in the first row of the movie theater. He couldn’t unsee it. He’d seen it, and now he couldn’t unsee it, he couldn’t ever unsee it. This was permanent. This was forever.

There was no going back.

♫ But the film is a saddening bore, for she’s lived it ten times or more ♪

A horrible giggle rose up in his throat like bile; did it really matter? Did any of it really matter? He got to his feet, unsteadily; how many times had it been, now? How many times had he burned it all down? How many times had he rebuilt himself? How many times had he forgotten?

♪ She could spit in the eyes of fools- ♫

The music rose ever higher. His heart pounded in his chest. He made his way over to the desk, and his hands found a mug with some pens in it. Once upon a time, it had an amusing phrase written on it - ‘You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps!’

♫ As they ask her to focus on-! ♪

Some of the text had worn off over the years. In the dark, it almost said something like ‘be mad - it helps!’; he threw it at the wall as hard as he could and it shattered, scattering its contents across the floor.

♪ Sailors fighting in the dance hall, oh man, look at those cavemen go! It’s the freakiest show-! ♫

Papers scattered. A trash can was kicked once, twice, three times. Now dented and useless, it flew through the air, smashing right into what was left of the six-pack of beer. It sprayed everywhere, soaking the carpet, ruining more paperwork.

♫ Take a look at the lawman, beating up the wrong guy! Oh man, wonder if he’ll ever know? ♪

The office chair was too heavy for him to lift, as much as he tried - but there, on the wall, was a small fire extinguisher. He wrenched it free, and turned towards the wall of screens just above the control desk.

♪ He’s in the best selling-show! ♫

They were already turned off for the night. There were no smiling faces, no mocking laughter, just himself. Just himself, looking at himself. Looking at himself inside his head, looking at himself helplessly as he was about to smash his entire career, his entire life into smithereens.

♫ Is there life on Mars…?  ♪

He fell to his knees and screamed louder than the guitar solo. He screamed until his throat was dry, until his lungs felt fit to burst. Then he fell face-first onto the floor, and he sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

He felt arms wrap around him, and knew that was impossible. He’d locked the door, and pushed over one of the filing cabinets to make sure it was blocked off. It was impossible.

And yet somehow, he found one of those impossible hands, and he squeezed it. Looking down, in the world inside his head, he could see how it was torn, how it was hurt. The thorns had ripped into it cruelly, and yet that hand had still reached for his, with the determination to keep pushing through. He wept openly, he wept bitterly, countless things breaking open inside him and messily spilling their contents, and his arms found someone to hold in turn.

Surrounded on all sides by thorns, the pair held each other.

Neither of them spoke, but what was unsaid didn’t need to be said. What was unasked didn’t need to be asked… at least, not yet. Something that neither of them could see, but that both of them could feel, was shifting.

The playlist shuffled to a new song; one that started with the merry ringing of church bells, the celebration of a new union. Ethereal, dreamlike guitar chords, and the soft notes of an electric piano followed suit, and settled in the room like static snow.

Where there’d once been fear so overwhelming it threatened to consume them, a faint light of hope flickered into life.

♪ We bitch and we fight, diss each other on sight, but this thing we do… ♫

Where there was once anger and resentment; an impotent rage against the end of the world they once knew, the world they thought they understood, the life they thought they each had… those feelings grew quieter in each other’s arms. Their expectations fizzled out and died; the anticipation of raised voices, raised fists, even bared teeth. They’d both expected a fight - vicious, cruel and desperate - for absolute control, once and for all.

They’d both been so scared of each other. As soon as there’d been signs they weren’t alone, they’d both been utterly stricken by terror, even if they were good at hiding it. Terrified that they wouldn’t win the inevitable fight. Terrified that they’d turn out to be “the fake one”. Terrified that they’d be torn apart, and that they’d deserve it for the crime of intruding on another’s existence, for stealing someone else’s life.

They’d been so scared.

♫ These times together, rain or shine or stormy weather, this thing we do ♪

The feelings rolled in like waves. It was cold comfort, and they both knew it. The agony of healing was only just beginning; this moment of tenderness was a temporary bandage on an ugly, gaping wound.

But there was a sense that someone would tend to it; that someone would take the time, would make the effort. That someone cared. And they both knew in that moment, that ‘someone’ was each other. They held one another like it was the one thing keeping them alive, as the maelstrom of emotion raged around them.

Neither had realized just how long they’d been waiting for this.

♪ With world-weary grace, we’ve taken our places, we could curse it or nurse it or give it a name ♫

Both of them got to their feet, helping each other off the cold ground. There wasn’t a word for old friends who’d just met… but that was how it felt as they faced each other. Battat and Mike, Mike and Battat, finally seeing eye to eye.

“This is so weird… and I have so many questions.”

Battat giggled nervously; there was a feeling lingering between them that it shouldn’t have taken this long, but how could you even start looking for someone when you don’t know they’re there? How could you possibly understand what it all meant, without the other half of the answers? And moreover; how was any of this even possible??

“Can they wait?”

“What-why??”

♫ Or stay home by the fire, felled by desire, stoking the flame… ♪

“We’ve got our whole lives to figure this out, ain’t we?”

“Since when did someone like you wait around for anything? Weren’t you the one always stepping in and interfering with my shit??”

“Hey, you’re the one who taught me how to be patient!”

♪ But we’re here for the ride ♫

“Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

“Out of here… ? There’s an out of here??”

“If this works the way I think it does, you just gotta trust me. Let me in, an’ it might just let us out. I ain’t always been the best to you… heck, sometimes I’ve really been the worst… but believe me, I wanna try an’ share what I got. I wanna get to know who I’m sharin’ it with.”

Mike held out his hand.

“So - do ya trust me?”

Wordlessly, Battat put his hand in Mike’s; he smiled warmly.

“Then you’re gonna love this… ”

♫ It’s louder than words, this thing that we do; louder than words, the way it unfurls…  ♪

Battat looked up.

He’d never realized, he’d never seen, but somehow he’d known. Somehow, he knew that the thorny defenses that surrounded him - something that was a lot more literal in here - were drowning out everything. Good and bad, pleasure and pain, joy and sadness, beautiful and ugly, those barriers saw no difference. They’d shielded his heart from hurt by keeping him distant enough - and ensured their continued survival, that reaching out would hurt him.

But despite the pain it took to get through that defense mechanism, the sight of what he’d been missing practically took his breath away.

“There’s so many…”

♪ It’s louder than words, the sum of our parts; the beat of our hearts, it’s louder than words… ♫

“Hey, careful, dumb-dumb!”

Mike chuckled; he’d just caught them as they almost made the same mistake he did, trying to look up so high that he’d overbalanced and stumbled backwards. But with a smile of his own and Battat still in his arms, he looked up too.

“They’re memories, if ya can believe it… all of ‘em, memories. Good and bad.”

He looked down at Battat.

“Wanna try a good one?”

“What-” Battat stuttered, laughing in disbelief; “What do you mean, try one??”

“Still askin’ questions?” Mike smirked, standing on his tiptoes; “Ya know ya sometimes learn more by experience… ”

♫ Louder than words ♪

Battat watched in amazement as Mike plucked one of them right out of the sky. Were the stars just really small, or had the two of them both grown to titan-sized proportions somehow? Those lights felt impossibly distant, but incredibly close at the same time…

There was no way this could possibly be real; he had to be dreaming. But if this was a dream, why could he still feel his real body somewhere else? He was laying motionless on the floor of the Control Room, but he could still move in here. He could feel when Mike - the identity he’d taken on as an alter ego, not only a real guy but someone he apparently shared a body with - gently took his hand. His real eyes were closed, but he could see as Mike let the memory gently slip into his palm.

It’s warm…

“You ready? This might get a little weird but I promise, nothin’ bad’s gonna-”

“This entire situation can’t possibly get any weirder.” Battat snapped. “Whatever you’re going to do, just do it, idiot.”

Mike laughed; “Oh you are gonna eat those words, short stack!”

Taking Battat’s hands in his own, he cupped them around the memory, and brought them close to the green Pippins’ heart…

♪ The strings bend and slide, as the hours glide by… ♫

Battat yelped so loudly that he ran out of breath before he could think to scream; what was happening?? Was he falling?? Was he flying???

There were lights, lights everywhere, forming a tunnel that surrounded him as the air rushed past his head. He could hear Mike’s laughter, he could hear the sounds of chatter, and glasses clinking together…

And he was there; at the meet-and-greet in Cyber City. The one that happened months and months ago.

♫ An old pair of shoes, your favorite blues, gonna tap out the rhythm ♪

He stared at his surroundings in amazement. The white, glittering columns… the Addisons, the  Yes Men…distantly, he could even hear the laughter of Queen herself. And there were the loyal Swatchlings of every hue, walking around proffering trays of Cyberian delights; macarons, tall glasses of sparkling battery acid, pieces of triangular cheese, JPEGs of photo-realistic shrimp cocktail…

He remembered he hadn’t wanted to go. It had been yet another busy day, and he’d very reluctantly put on the costume as Tenna begged and pleaded pathetically over the speakerphone. He was dying out here, none of his jokes made any sense to the Cyberians, what the heck was an e-mail anyway, if he didn’t come down here ASAP he might shrink so small from embarrassment that he’d fall through a crack in the floor and never be seen again…

He’d put the costume head on as he walked out the door, and that was where the memories had stopped. At least, until now.

♪ Let’s go with the flow, wherever it goes… ♫

Someone grabbed his hand suddenly, sending his half-eaten macaron flying through the air - it was Tenna, already completely sloshed on battery acid. Wearing his tie like a bandanna, it looked like he’d deliberately shrunk himself just a little to fit in, but he was having as much trouble holding his size as he did his liquor.

“C’mon Mike!” Tenna laughed, as the band struck up a chiptune, forcibly pulling him towards the dancefloor; “Let’s party like it’s 1997! Again!”

An answer came straight from his mouth, but it wasn’t his - it wasn’t his voice.

“Sure thing, big boss! Let’s show ‘em how it’s done in TV World!”

♫ We’re more than alive ♪

His body felt completely wrong; he was a good eight to ten inches taller and a good fifty or so pounds heavier. He never danced - he felt like if he tried, he’d look like he had two left feet - but somehow his movements just flowed. He was being carried along by the music, by the current of the memory he was immersed in.

He could feel Mike’s presence right there; his confidence, his charisma, standing right there alongside him. He wasn’t alone.

♪ It’s louder than words, this thing that we do; louder than words, the way it unfurls… ♫

Battat’s eyes yahtzeed again - if they both shared a body, did that mean the singing he could hear was really coming from their throat?? A rich baritone poured forth like warm caramel, catching the attention of everyone around him.

By all accounts, he should want to run. He should be terrified. The last thing he would have ever wanted would be for anyone to catch him singing… but with the overflowing emotions from Mike as he took Tenna’s hands and danced with him, he felt amazing. It was like he’d sprouted wings.

♫ It’s louder than words, the sum of our parts; the beat of our hearts, it’s louder than words… ♪

The crowd cheered. His chest - their chest, now with both of them aware of their surroundings - swelled with pride. He was really flying now; as Tenna lifted him off the floor and grew rapidly to his full height, he was literally dancing on air!

“YEAH! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

He’d been there, Battat realized. He’d never done this, he’d never felt this, this wasn’t him, but he’d been there. He’d been there the whole time. They’d just let the thorns close over them and block all of this out, so they didn’t have to be afraid. So they didn’t have to think. So they could just pretend they didn’t exist at all.

“Swing it, big boss!”

Tenna spun him around and around, with a big, stupid smile on his big, stupid face. He looked so happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the boss this happy…

♪ Louder than words, this thing they call soul; it’s there with a pulse, it’s louder than words ♫

And it proved to be contagious; if it was Tenna’s feelings or Mike’s, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t close them out for much longer.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy; that warm feeling was back and stronger than ever, tickling his insides like popping bubbles. The thorns that had wrapped around and strangled his heart were starting to loosen.

Icy fear struck back in desperation; reminding him, telling him how much it could hurt when that joy was ripped away from you. Kill your feelings before it’s too late! Snuff it out! Do it NOW!

He felt Mike squeeze his hand.

♫ Louder than words… ♪

“So how was it?”

Battat snorted loudly, covering his mouth with both hands. Seeing his eyes practically pop out of his head was enough to get Mike laughing first,

“BAHAHAHA!!! What the heck was that??”

“Shut up, idiot!” Battat snapped, barely suppressing a giggle, still hiding his mouth. “It was good, okay?? It was good, it was fun, now I really need to ask about-”

Mike playfully grappled with them, trying to pull their hands away from their face.

“C’mooooon, ya know ya wanna! Quit fightin’ it, I told ya that before!” Mike poked Battat’s side, getting a hilarious squeak in return. “Lemme see a real belly laugh! Like the one ya did after Pluey got ya real good!”

“Quit it!” Battat said with a chuckle; they tried to push Mike away from them, but to little effect. “I can’t believe I share a body with an asshole like you… ”

“Oh so you wanna wrestle, is that it??” Mike grinned, cracking his knuckles, moving towards Battat with a menacing aura; “Well I’ll have ya know I ain’t no lightweight!”

Battat was full on laughing at this point as Mike tried to grab him in a bear hug; he scrambled away, slipping underneath his arm.

“That’s ‘cause you weigh like twice as much as me!”

Mike made another attempt to grab the slippery Pippins; but this time they unfastened their cape, throwing it over Mike’s head and dropping to the floor in just their shirt and pants. By the time he pulled it off himself, Battat was spreading their arms wide at him in a ‘come at me’ taunt.

“And you sure don’t move twice as fast!”

“Only ‘cause you eat nothin’ but sugar an’ coffee… ” Mike said, throwing the cape to one side.

“Like you’re one to talk - I bet that pot pie meal had the first vegetables we’ve eaten in weeks! The olive in a martini doesn’t count!”

“C’mere, dumb-dumb!”

Evading him again, Battat pulled one eyelid down and stuck his tongue out; “NYEEEEH!”

Leaping forward suddenly, Mike tackled Battat to the ground, grabbing him a headlock.

“Now say uncle!”

Battat just laughed at him; “Never!!”

Mike rubbed his knuckles on the Pippins’ head; “What was that, pipsqueak??”

“Okay, okay, uncle! UNCLE!” Battat shouted, barely catching his breath in between guffaws as he laughed and laughed; “I give! I surrender! Mercy!”

Mike finally let him go; overcome by laughter of his own, both of them were stuck on the floor until the last of their giggling stopped echoing through the still mostly empty space of their Inner World.

“Ah, it does a big ol’ heart like mine good to hear a big ol’ grouch like you laughin’ it up… “ He sighed happily; “Just like old times.”

Battat froze suddenly.

“What do you mean, ‘just like old times’... ?”

Mike stared back at him; for once, the Motormouth himself was stunned into silence. He actually had no idea why he’d just said that, but… for a moment, while that was going on, it had almost felt like he’d been somewhere else. Somewhen else? Was that a thing?

“You felt that too, right?” Battat asked; he’d seen the look on Mike’s face. “Like for a minute, we were both different, right?”

“Yeah, that was… that was weird even by the weird standards of this place?” Mike said, rubbing his head. “Almost felt like I was younger… ”

Darkners didn’t have childhoods; the few of them that popped into existence with a child-like form would stay like that forever, never growing up. Most Darkners were adults when they first appeared, but their personalities grew and changed over time, ‘maturing’ through both the care and attention of the Lightners and from their interactions with each other. And for most Darkners in the Card Kingdom, that mostly involved play… play of all kinds, including the occasional bit of roughhousing…

The pair looked at each other. There’d been a brief, fleeting moment where they’d both connected to something - a faded and neglected memory, half-forgotten - but it was already gone.

“I… nrgh… sorry… ”

Mike clutched his right arm, briefly - he’d felt it twinge for a moment, like that electric shock had come back to haunt him.

He tried again; “I’m sorry about what happened with those guys; with Fortune an’ her posse. I feel like I really messed things up for ya, ‘specially since, well, ya are always sayin’ in our head that ya ain’t got no friends… ”

Battat just stared at Mike in confusion; “...You mean they’re not your friends?”

“Huh??” - now Mike looked equally confused.

“Don’t you know them??” Battat said, gesturing; “Fortune and the rest of those guys are always coming up to me like they know me, but I don’t! They’re always so, so… casual? Weirdly personal?? Like they have a bunch of in-jokes that they think I’m a part of, but I’m not- ”

Mike was shocked; “Ya mean ya don’t remember ‘em? ‘Cause I don’t! I don’t know jack!”

“I know things about them, but I don’t know them! What do you mean you don’t know anything??” They grabbed hold of Mike’s lapels, their pent-up frustration coming to a rapid boil. “Are you fucking with me!?”

“Bat, the heck is wrong with you!? Mike glared at them, gritting his teeth; “I ain’t got no reason to mess with you! Ya think this is a game to me or somethin’??”

His own anger rushing back with the force of a tsunami, he tried to constrain his namesake motor mouth, but he couldn’t help himself.

“This whole damn process ain’t exactly been a walk in the park, y’know! An’ ya really think - ya really think, after everythin’ I showed you, that I’d wanna screw myself over right now? That I’d wanna throw all’a that away, after everythin’ I’ve done to try an’ get you to recognize that I exist??”

“And you really thought I’d just accept that I was sharing a body with somebody else??” Battat snapped, letting go of Mike just so he could gesture wildly.

“Don’t ask questions! Don’t ask how it works! Just trust you! Then you drop me headfirst into some memory of yours without any warning, and you… you don’t even realize what you’ve done to me, do you?? You don’t even know what you’ve done… ”

He got to his feet, cold fury returning to his eyes.

“You just couldn’t leave me alone, and now we can’t ever go back to how we were. I’m going to have to re-assess my entire life because of you.”

“An’ ya seriously think I wanted any of this to happen? Ya think I ended up in control of only half our body ‘cause I thought it’d be funny or somethin’??  ‘Cause guess what, dummy - that ain’t it!!”

Getting up as well, Mike stomped forward, poking Battat right in the middle of their chest.

“Ya think I would’a chosen to be like this, if I had a choice?? ‘Cause I didn’t choose this either! Ya think I wanted to be just some costume that you put on when ya feel like it?”

Battat glared at him silently; Mike snarled, returning that same coldness.

“Yeah, that’s right. I know what ya thought I was… that I was just somethin’ you are, when ya decide to take that stick outta ya butt an’ live a little for once… ”

Mike gestured at himself.

“But even despite you bein’ such a butthead about this?? I sympathize! I really do! ‘Cause how do ya think that makes me feel - knowin’ that not only do I gotta share a body with some workaholic bozo, but it don’t even feel like mine?? That to the guy who ‘owns’ this body, I’m just an accessory!?”

“WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME!?”

A horrible silence hung between them for a moment as Battat took a few deep, ragged breaths.

“You treated me like I was just an accessory, didn’t you?? An accessory to your life! Slaving away for Tenna, getting yelled at by him, working overtime and overnight… while you got to get drunk and go dancing with him!!!”

Tears were stinging the Pippins’ eyes again, as anger turned to hurt.

“You get to be his best friend… I’ve tried and tried to even get into his good books, and he doesn’t see me as any different from any other piece of shit Pippins looking for a way to slack off! No matter what I do, I’m lower than dirt to him! He’s never so much as looked at me like I wasn’t something on the bottom of his shoe! He’s never once said thank you, never once said good job, never once said sorry-”

“Wait, he didn’t apologize!?”

Battat stared back blankly, unsure of how to react to the interruption.

“As soon as I figured out how he’d been treatin’ you, I told him to say sorry an’ mean it! I told him to make it right! He said he’d do anythin’ for me, anythin’ at all, and that was all I asked for besides a slice’a cake! Whaddya mean he didn’t apologize??”

“... Is that why there was a box of TV Time merch outside my bedroom door?”

“Huh??”

Mike paused for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, then pinched the bridge of where his nose would be.

“Oy gevalt. Now you’re screwin’ with me.”

“You know I’m not. I can tell from your face. And the shirt didn’t even fit, either.” Battat sighed, folding his arms. “It was a Tenna-sized one… 9 or 10 XL I guess? I lost count of the X’s before I threw it all in the trash… ”

“Tenna, you absolute idiot.” Mike sighed heavily, facepalming. “I should’ve figured he wouldn’t know how to give a proper apology… ”

“No shit, Sherlock; the guy’s got an ego the size of a blimp, and if somebody popped that he’d drag all of us down with him… ”

The green Pippins huffed, glancing to the side. “But all the same… thanks for trying, I guess.”

“It’s the least I could do after I let him do that to ya… not to mention how I’d been treatin’ ya, too… and I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. If I could’a only said one word to ya, that was all I ever wanted to say.”

Mike bowed his head in shame.

“But I wanna try an’ do better. I wanna work this out somehow, an’ I wanna be there for you when it’s hard, ‘cause you’ve always been there for me. Even if ya didn’t know it, an’ I was too dumb to realize or recognize it, you were the best friend a guy like me could have asked for, an’ I treated you like garbage.”

He wiped away his tears.

“I hope ya can forgive me for that, someday… ”

Mike hadn’t even realized that Battat had walked towards him; but he looked up just as they were giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. And without thinking about it, he grabbed the Pippins in a tight hug.

“You really do have a big heart… you big dummy… ” Battat mumbled.

“What was that… ?”

“Just that we can talk about this later,” Battat said, breaking away from the hug. “Like I said - I’ve got questions. And there’s one particular one I want answered right now.”

Mike shrugged; “Shoot. We probably got at least a few more minutes before Jongler breaks down the door or somethin’.”

“If I don’t remember much about Fortune’s crew… and you don’t remember anything… “ Battat said, holding out his hands; “Then who does?  Where did the memories even go?”

Mike looked up, to where a certain red star glared down at them.

“...I might know. But ya probably won’t like it.”

Chapter Text

The room had been cleaned as much as three bodies could manage. It wasn’t entirely obvious which of them had caused the mess to begin with - emotions had mixed and melded, and the line between Battat and Mike had become a blurry mess - but it wasn’t like it really mattered. Their mess, their room, their responsibility. It wasn’t completely clean, sure - but it at least didn’t look like a bomb had exploded.

… Except for the door, of course. That had effectively ceased to exist, thanks to Jongler’s attack.

But they’d done what they could, until they could make that sheepish call to the janitors and the maintenance crews in the morning. They were taking a break, now - the three, or rather four of them, were sitting on a patch of carpet that had avoided being soaked with beer. Jongler had insisted on paying the extra to get their Deluxe Dinners delivered - their treat this time - and Pluey had switched the music to some movie soundtracks, played at a much more reasonable volume.

♫ Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination… ♪

Battat shook his head at the horrendous timing. Mike laughed a little at the irony.

Lost memories, a world inside their head… if only it was all in their imagination. Now that wall between them had come down, they were nearly constantly aware of each other’s presence. And what made it even more awkward was they were still stuck, at least for now, in the two-minds-one-body situation that Fortune had accidentally triggered.

But they were making it work, somehow. Each of them could see out of only one eye - but at least they both had different ‘handedness’, letting them control one each. The sensation and sensory input on the opposite side wasn’t gone, but it was distant - dissociated, at least while it wasn’t “theirs” to control.

Neither was sure why they couldn’t just walk away, why they couldn’t just retreat into their mind, but whatever was keeping them both tethered to what Mike had taken to calling ‘the front’? They both had their own ideas.

Battat figured it was because they didn’t know how just yet. Even if Mike had been stepping in and out the entire time, he’d never had to do so while they were still fully conscious. So it was like the pair of them had met in a narrow hallway, and were doing an awkward back-and-forth dance; if one moved, the other instinctively moved too. So until they figured out how to swap back and forth and step in and out - without over-thinking it - they were getting nowhere fast.

Mike figured it was because, in some way, they were still scared. He’d held Battat as much as Battat held him while that emotional storm raged. The sun had yet to rise on the ruins of their inner apocalypse; the full impact hadn’t set in yet. But the possibility of their mind over-correcting, tearing them apart again… it hung over them like an executioner’s axe. Battat was better at hiding it, sure, but he had ways to tell; like how they kept standing so close they were practically rubbing shoulders with him.

But there was at least one thing they could both agree on, and that was that Jongler and Pluey had been the luckiest break a Darkner could ever ask for.

“We owe you guys everythin’. We really do.” Mike said with a smile; they were sitting cross-legged, and he was leaning their chin on their right hand. “I definitely made the right call with both’a you… and the right call with dinner, though I say so myself… ”

Battat, holding a spork in the body’s left hand, just sighed rapturously as they took another bite. They’d been too exhausted to make a decision about food - hell, they were still getting to grips with the idea it was a decision that mattered. But Mike had mentioned the Buffalo Chicken Deluxe was his favorite, and that was what had arrived.

They hadn’t been too impressed initially - the vegetable sides were completely unremarkable compared to what came with the Pot Pie. But the entree itself more than made up for it; tender chunks of breaded chicken in a tangy, bright orange sauce, sitting alongside a golden mac and cheese topped with crunchy garlic breadcrumbs. A perfect balance of rich, creamy, just spice enough... and today’s menu even came with a much-anticipated Superstar Brownie.

Pluey played a short, conversational-sounding tune. Inside their head, Mike translated.

It says it’s surprised to see you’re eatin’- oh boy. Mike said, finally noticing what was on their fork. Broccoli… you’re seriously gonna do this to me?

Mike visibly grimaced, prompting a laugh from Pluey, who pointed at him and elbowed Jongler.

“Yeah, I sees what ya mean! Dat’s you, ain’t it Mike?”

The body’s facial expression shifted suddenly, looking very briefly annoyed, then ate the broccoli - which the left hand had dipped in some of the cheese sauce - with a look of enjoyment.

“An’ da one eatin’ da broccoli is Battat.”

“Guess that one makes it kinda obvious, huh?” they said, smirking a bit. “Apparently we have different food preferences… who knew… ”

Mike folded his arms and pouted, trying his best to ignore what was in their mouth.

At least this was one way to get some peace and quie, Battat figured; if Mike wanted to speak, he’d have to taste his least favorite vegetable. They’d been salvaging paperwork, picking up shards of broken mug and broken pens… and his namesake motor mouth had been yammering the whole time, telling the other Darkners about what happened in their head.

“So…” Pluey honked thoughtfully; today’s fish special had been co-incidentally dairy-free, and it seemed to be enjoying its tray of imitation crab croquettes as much as Battat was their mac and cheese. “You guys are working together now??”

“For the most part,” Battat said, spearing another piece of broccoli. “That’s why I can understand your… dialect, I guess? Mike’s translating in my head. Our head. We can kind of think at each other, and we can hear it.”

They chewed thoughtfully. In their head, Mike sounded exactly like he did in their body, but it was still indescribably weird to Battat that his voice could come from their body at all. And then there was one of the countless elephants in the room - namely the fact that Mike’s performance repertoire apparently included mimicry. And since they’d seen first-hand how he could copy their voice…

“We’re going to lay down some ground rules, though. First, Mike doesn’t get to pretend to be me. Not unless he has to.”

Ya know I only ever did that when I had to, right? Mike huffed, looking offended.

“And second, no more keeping secrets from each other. I didn’t know that you guys both knew about this - but apparently he told you, because he was keeping it a secret from me.”

Jongler and Pluey both looked ashamed. And while he wasn’t looking at Mike, Battat could feel that same shame radiating from him; another weird phenomenon. He got the impression they’d be feeling like this a lot until they got used to it… if they ever did…

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell youse, boss… ” Jongler said sheepishly, poking at their own meal. Apparently they had a thing for pasta, because this time it was chicken and gnocchi in alfredo sauce. “I know it don’t help, da fact we didn’t tell ya who da real Mike was… ”

“He’s not the real Mike,” Battat corrected, waving his spork. “That would be the guy who Tenna was looking for before I decided to step into that role! At least on the stage management side of things! But… then the costume showed up, and I put it on… and then… uh, well… ”

They sighed; okay, yeah, things had gotten complicated. Trying to think about it too much made their head hurt…

Mike gave them a pat on the shoulder in their Inner World; Take a minute, okay? I’m real happy to see ya eatin’ a good meal for once, but gettin’ yourself worked up over this ain’t gonna help.

Battat nodded; they still couldn’t leave, but they could at least relax and step aside enough to let Mike back ‘in’.

“So that’s how Mike happened??”

“Not - blech! - exactly… ” Mike said, sticking his tongue out. The taste of that vegetable lingered, but it was nothing a bite of chicken couldn’t fix. Swapping the spork to his right hand, he took a big bite.

“Fact ish, I been here shince da very shtart-”

Feeling Battat glaring at him for talking with his -  no, their - mouth full, he took a moment to chew and swallow.

“Or at least I think so - I mean, I got memories from before we got here.”

“Yeah, youse guys came from da Card Kingdom! On account’a youse guys are a Pippins-”

Jongler hesitated; there’d been a pained look on Mike’s face for just a moment.

“Sorry, uh, youse guys… body is a Pippins… ? I ain’t sure hows dat all works… ”

“I get it - at least I think??” Pluey said, giving Jongler a reassuring pat. “I mean, I feel a lot better when I’m wearing my costume!! Feels like I can really cut loose and be myself!!”

Mike smiled warmly, despite the hurt. They were good people, they were really trying, but they couldn’t possibly understand how it felt. There was a version of himself in his head that was so clear, so vivid, it felt more real than the body he was in. Pluey could let go of its inhibitions while in costume, sure, but it didn’t seem as uncomfortable being a Shadowguy as he did being a Pippins...

It really feels real to you, doesn’t it?

Mike turned towards Battat in their Inner World; Hey, ya lived that memory right alongside me, didn’t ya? How did ya feel back then?

Battat counted off on their fingers and thumb; Uh… Taller, heavier… having FOUR fingers instead of three was REALLY weird…

Uh-huh. Basically like magic, right? Like ya turned into me!

You even carry yourself differently when I’m in cos -

Battat bit their tongue, re-thinking their words.

When you’re in your body, I mean. You can dance, you can sing, and you act like it’s the most natural thing in the world! It’s like… you’re just so comfortable! So confident! Like you know exactly who you are, what you’re about... you’ve got this swagger that I can’t possibly imitate…

Well ya sure know how to flatter a guy-

It’s no wonder being that way felt wrong to me; like I was having fun, but nothing matched up with what should be there. I wasn’t who I’m supposed to be, my body wasn’t my body, and I… I couldn’t ignore how awful that felt…

Sitting on the grey floor, Battat pulled their knees up to their chest.

…I’m sorry for what I said earlier. This must be really hard for you.

Mike gave Battat a pat on the shoulder; they felt so tense, it was almost like petting solid concrete.

Hey, I was just tryin’ to protect us, y’know? We don’t want everybody askin’ questions about us. I mean, Tenna’d have both our heads for stealin’ the spotlight!

Battat didn’t laugh at his joke. They didn’t even crack a smile.

You didn’t have to do that. I mean, who would want to pretend to be a no-life loser like me?

Bat, c’mon now, it ain’t like that…

Mike bit his lip worriedly, unsure of what to say. Glancing around, he could see the clearing that had appeared in the midst of the thorns - damn things seemed to follow Battat into the front - had shrunk just a little. They had to be stressed out of their mind right now, but if he could just-

“Uh, boss? Youse guys okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah, sorry… ”

Mike felt a little embarrassed; he’d completely forgotten for a minute that Jongler and Pluey couldn’t hear that conversation. From their perspective, he must have been ‘zoning out’, as Battat often called it.

“The two of us were just havin’ a lil’ chat, sorry if we worried ya.”

…Are you gonna be okay?

Battat waved their hand. Go ahead. Just need to think.

“But anyways, yeah; we’re from The Card Kingdom, an’ I still got memories from there, even if they’re kinda vague an’ blurry… ”

“So what can you remember??”

Mike thought for a moment, mixing a little of the buffalo sauce into the mac and cheese. He knew he’d been there; he knew what the place looked like, even knew the names of locations. But as both of them were quickly learning, there was a difference between knowing and remembering… at least, if you were in the situation they were, with memory gaps littering the place like pitfall traps.

“Uh, not all that much? I remember purple grass. Red trees. Oh, black trees too - with candy fruit! If you’re tall enough, ya can just pluck ‘em right off - they’re actually really tasty if ya don’t mind marshmallows.”

He chuckled a little; “Me an’ Bat, we used to wish we could stand on each other’s shoulders, but good luck doin’ that when ya only have one body between ya, am I right?”

Mike froze, abruptly, as what he’d just said suddenly caught up with him for the second time that evening. Pluey, meanwhile, looked concerned.

“...Was it something I said??”

“No, no, it ain’t you, Plue, I just… “ He shook his head; “I’m havin’ some trouble recallin’ somethin’, that’s all. I might, uh. Might need a minute.”

He took a few bites of his food, giving him more excuse to keep his mouth shut. He’d made that connection again by pure accident; just like how he’d been wrestling with Battat in their inner world, and it mentally transported both of them to a simpler time.

Mike looked up, toward the sky; once again, he found his gaze drawn to that red star. Surrounding it was a cluster of other, smaller stars; other memories, presumably from around the same time. But their light was weak and faded, drowned out by that unpleasant glow; draining the joy from everything that surrounded it.

Battat still seemed to be deep in thought; so he extended his arm, calling out to one of the smaller ones. As it landed in his palm, it somehow weighed even less than the nearly-nothing most other memories weighed.

What happened to you? Poor lil’ thing…

It wasn’t alive. It wasn’t even real, not really, at least not outside their head; but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for it. It felt weak. Damaged. Neglected. Its warmth flickered feebly, like a dying candle flame… if he’d left it much longer, would it have just quietly blinked out of existence… ?

As he held it as close to his heart as he dared, the soundtrack playlist in the background queued up a song starting with a mournful harmonica.

♫ This looks familiar, vaguely familiar ♪

There was little sense of falling this time; just a sharp, abrupt drop, and he was there. It felt almost dream-like this time - rough and sketchy, like an unfinished drawing in crayon -  but he was there.

♪ Almost unreal yet, it’s too soon to feel yet ♫

Purple grass. Black trees. He tilted his head up, and there were stars - big, chunky ones right there on the tree. Perfectly ripe Dark Candy, just waiting to be picked.

♫ Close to my soul, and yet so far away… ♪

He jumped up and down, desperately trying to reach. He heard laughter; not nearby, not in his ear, but somewhere even closer.

♪ …I’m going to go back there someday ♫

A voice said something to him; he couldn’t tell what it was, but it felt like a joke. He smiled, laughing too. Even if he couldn’t see what they looked like, he felt safe and reassured, knowing they were there.

♫ Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls ♪

Suddenly there was a change; now he was on his back, looking up, and there were stars again. If he could only see into the Light World, he’d have known they were just a handful of glow-in-the-dark plastic, affixed to the ceiling of a half-forgotten classroom, some painted over rather clumsily. But what he could see from down here, in this reality, was pure wonder.

♪ Is that a song there? And do I belong there? ♫

He reached out a hand to the sky. The body’s other hand rose up with it; together, the two of them made a square, framing those lights like a picture, or a movie camera. There was a sense of curiosity… and longing. Wondering what could be beyond those stars.

♫ I’ve never been there, but I know the way… ♪

Another shift, and he fell into another broken fragment of a memory. He was walking along a path of red leaves; someone ran ahead of him, calling out a name, but he didn’t catch sight of their face.

♪ …I’m going to go back there someday ♫

He ran after them; some part of him, in the distant present, desperately wanted to see them. It wanted to know more. But here in the unchanging past, his only concern was catching them in their sudden game of tag. Behind him, more footsteps picked up, increasing their speed… but he couldn’t make himself turn around, either.

It had never happened then, so it couldn’t happen now.

♫ Come and go with me, it’s more fun to share ♪

He felt a hand touch his. Not in the world of the memory, but somewhere more real. He felt Battat’s presence next to him, and felt himself relax; he felt safe and reassured, knowing they were there. And a sense of deja vu.

♪ We’ll both be completely at home in midair ♫

There was still too little detail. He was surrounded by other Darkners, but he couldn’t see their faces at all; if he tried to look, he saw only a jumbled mess. It was a memory of a memory, in a mind desperately trying to fill in the gaps… but with Battat’s help, something was coming together…

♫ We’re flying, not walking, on featherless wings ♪

Voices were cheering. Someone lifted them up, put them on their shoulders, and carried them. It was someone much bigger than the others, taller and broader… and down below them, one purple, one gold… one more typical red and blue…

♪ We can hold onto love, like invisible strings… ♫

Mike’s heart ached. The feelings emanating from the memory were so happy; so why, to him, did it feel like the end of something? Was Battat’s hand shaking, or was his? Were they crying, or was he… ?

♫ There’s not a word yet, for old friends who’ve just met ♪

Another memory interrupted, this one much more vivid and life-like. Not a fragment, but that weakened star he’d hand-picked, and he instinctively knew this one was his. He felt like he’d just woken up after a long, long sleep… and he was looking down at his white, gloved hand, turning it over and over.

Like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing…

♪ Part heaven, part space; or have I found my place? ♫

He found a microphone, already gripped tightly in his other hand - his left hand. Swapping it over to his right, he felt a sense of purpose rise within him. He knew, instinctively, what he needed to do.

♫ You can just visit, but I plan to stay ♪

He stepped out from behind the curtain. The crowd roared. Every smile, every laugh, every cheer… it was delight after delight on the biggest buffet table he’d ever seen! And his stomach was empty, his appetite insatiable; he’d been starving himself, waiting, hanging on for this one delicious moment…

♪ I’m going to go back there someday… ♫

“Hey…!! HEY!!”

Mike blinked, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. The star was looking a little brighter than it did before; and now he could see it had a few tiny, glowing fragments in tow, trailing behind it like the tail of a comet as it left his hand.

“Boss?? Are you okay??”

“Huh?” Mike said, still rubbing his eye in the body; “How… how long was I ‘out’... ?”

“A couple minutes? Ya went real quiet an’ starin’ at nothin’… then ya said somethin’ ‘bout how it ‘ain’t the same’, then ya went real quiet again...”

Pluey waved its tail worriedly; “If they changed the recipe for the chicken, you can have some of my croquettes!! They’re really good if you don’t mind seafood!!”

“Nah, nah, it ain’t the food, the food’s great… ” Mike chuckled, waving his hand. “Trust me, it was nothin’. Just got a lil’ lost in nostalgia, but I’m fine, I’m-”

“In denial?”

It was Battat who interrupted him, their shared body’s face abruptly switching to an exasperated expression.

“And you think I’m bad with my feelings.”

Mike sighed, conceding, as he took back the front.

“Okay, fine. Ya got me. I remembered somethin’, outta the blue… somethin’ about some old friends of ours, a gang of Pippins we used to roll with… ”

He poked at his food disinterestedly. Suddenly, he didn’t feel hungry any more.

“Least I think they were our friends, before our stupid memory an’ my stupid motor mouth screwed everythin’ up… ”

“Was, uh… was one of dem Pippinses poiple… ?”

A purple Pippins? Even if they’d had separate bodies, Mike and Battat would have looked up in perfect sync and stared directly at Jongler.

“We saw those guys!! We were looking for you in the cafeteria, we asked one of them if they’d seen a Green Pippins!!”

“Did they say anythin’?”

“Only that ya kinda freaked on ‘em an’ ran off somewheres… ” Jongler said, rubbing the back of their neck. “Dey seemed to be wonderin’ if dey should come after youse, but me an’ Pluey said we’d take care of it.”

Mike sighed again, this time with relief; “Oh thank god they ain’t mad at me… ”

“Yeah, that’s a relief… especially since it wouldn’t be you they’re mad at… ” Battat muttered.

“But yeah - they’ve been, uh, trying to talk to me for a while. I didn’t understand why they were being so friendly, even if I knew things about them I couldn’t explain knowing… then once Mike showed up, I thought it might be him they remembered talking to, while he was pretending to be me… ”

They shook their head; “But no dice - he doesn’t remember them either.”

“Least not clearly, anyways.” Mike said, still poking miserably at his mac and cheese. “But now I dunno what to do... whether they’re mad or not, I ain’t ever fumbled a situation that bad before. If only they’d forget things as easily as we do… ”

“But they still remember you, right??” Pluey asked.

Battat was next in line; “They remember one of us, probably? Maybe both, if Mike was able to hide his voice and pretend even back then.”

They shrugged dismissively; “But does it even matter? It’d be better for everyone if we just let them be. Eventually, maybe, they’ll leave us alone, and we can go back to not interfering in each other’s shit.”

“...Seems kinda mean to do that to your friends, boss.” Jongler said; they looked as though they were choosing their words carefully.

Battat glared back at them; “They’re not our friends. They just think they are.”

Their expression changed abruptly; it was Mike fronting again, looking crestfallen, like he’d given up.

“Bat’s right… there ain’t no reason to give ‘em false hope. Without those memories, neither of us can be the person they’re lookin’ for. It ain’t the same, ‘cause we ain’t the same.”

“Does it hafta be the same though, boss… ? When I met Mike, I didn’t know he was sharin’ a body with nobody… ” They shrugged; “An’ knowin’ that made things different, sure! Kinda explained a couple things…, like why sometimes youse acted like each other… but I didn’t wanna stop bein’ friends ‘cause a’ that?”

There was a brief pause. Jongler’s cheeks - or some equivalent thereof - flushed pink.

“I, uh. Know I ain’t da best at everythin’... I ain’t smart like Battat, or cool like Mike, or funny like Pluey. But youse guys wanna be my friends ‘cause a’ who I am. In the end, youse is still youse in some kinda way - so maybe it don’t matter, whether ya remembers or not?”

“Or maybe… maybe we could remember!” Mike said, snapping his fingers like he’d had an epiphany. “Yahtzee! Bat, what was it Pluey said before??”

Battat was back in again, looking thoughtful; “It said that gang of Pippins remember us… even if we don’t remember who we were back then, they remember who we were back then… !”

“So all we gotta do is talk to ‘em! If we want some answers without touchin’ that red star thing, all we gotta do is call ‘em up! See if they still wanna talk!”

Mike paused; from Jongler and Pluey’s perspective, his attention seemed to drift briefly, like he was looking at something only he could see.

“Okay - why’re you lookin’ at me like that, dummy? Ya wanna share this with the class, or what?”

“I just… I just don’t think this is a good idea,” Battat said, seeming reluctant to be back in the front where everyone could hear them.

“I mean sure, we could get some answers - but what if those guys find out why we’re asking in the first place? I mean I might not know Fortune, but what I know about her is he’s an absolute gossip fiend. It comes with the territory when you work in costuming, so can we really trust-?”

“You know she was worried about you, right??” Pluey interrupted with an uncharacteristically irritated honk; “He was worried she’d made the wrong call by giving you space!! He thanked us for taking care of you!! She even called you her friend!!”

“Pluey’s right - I’d sure be worried too, if my friend didn’t recognize me an’ ran away screamin’. Miss Fortune still cares about ya, boss!”

Battat was visibly starting to lose their patience, their face flushing green.

“For the last time… he is NOT MY-”

“She COULD be our friend, if ya stop actin’ like ya don’t NEED ANYBODY!”

Mike had seized the front by force; in the Inner World, he’d grabbed Battat by the front of their cape, and was forcing them to look him in the face as his motor mouth roared into life.

“Every time I try to do somethin’, it’s back to square freakin’ one, every time!! Would it kill ya to quit sabotagin’ yourself for five minutes!? Jongler an’ Pluey are tryin’ to help ya! I’m tryin’ to help ya! I’m tryin’ to help us understand why the heck we’re like this! An’ more than that, I’m tryin’ to understand why it is that you’re so dedicated to bein’ miserable!”

Pulling them close, he grit his teeth with no-longer-constrained fury.

“ ‘Cause believe it or not, dummy - I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life as a GOD! DAMN! STATUE!!!”

Battat’s pupils shrank to pinpicks again. They looked like they were going to be sick. But Mike was left with no choice but to continue; there wasn’t any time for regret, not when this was something they needed to know.

“...That cough you’ve been havin’ ain’t just a cough, Bat. I know ya felt it. I felt it too.”

He grimly counted off the symptoms on his fingers; “Feelin’ cold in a heated room, not bein’ able to move ya hand right… the chair creakin’ under ya weight, even though ya look so scrawny you’d get knocked over by a stiff breeze. It can start out real subtle… ya get so numb to everythin’, ya turn to stone on the inside first.”

Battat stared ahead, blankly. Mike sighed heavily, putting him down. At a loss for what else to do, he gently rubbed his hand on the Pippins’ head, petting them. He could only hope they’d stay with him, fight against the urge to dissociate, if they could still feel something…

“But this ain’t the end, okay? It ain’t over, I promise; not as long as ya got me, not as long as ya got Jongler an’ Pluey, as long as ya got friends. We can turn this around, an’ ya will get better, I promise… ”

It was taking every ounce of effort Mike could muster to not break down, as everything caught up to him at once. They’d just met again, they’d just found each other again, but right now he had to be strong. He had to be strong, to help mend the broken heart they both shared, or they’d both die.

“Just don’t fight me on this, Bat… I ain’t askin’ any more, I’m tellin’ ya, don’t fight me. We can’t build a home with no foundation, we can’t grow without roots, we can’t live without other Darkners in our life, an’ we need to understand where we came from if we’re ever gonna belong anywhere… ”

Mike tried to move his hand away; Battat immediately grabbed it, moving it back. The thorns were threatening them from all sides, trying to close in, and they looked so small and frightened… but they were fighting it, fighting that urge to cut themself off. They still wanted to know he was there.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He sniffed and sobbed, his voice strained with emotion

“You’re my best friend, Bat… ya always were…”

Mike fell to his knees. The rest of the meal tray clattered to the floor, spilling its contents, but he hardly noticed. He hugged Battat in the Inner World, as tightly as he dared.

“I can’t lose ya again.”

The two of them sat there; Battat with their silent tears, Mike still sobbing. Jongler was the first to put their arms around their shared body, but Pluey quickly followed suit, purring as best it could. None of them wanted to let go.

And they wouldn’t let go; not without a fight.

Chapter Text

“Okay - places, everyone! Places!”

It was an unusually busy day backstage; with Jongler and Pluey up in the control room, Battat was wearing their headset, helping to organize the large amount of extras today’s show apparently needed. It felt like half of TV World had been roped in from how packed the place was; and what was making things even worse was nobody seemed to be taking him at all seriously…

“Hey, watch it!” They protested as a pair of Shadowguys, playing a duet as they conversed, knocked into them; “Wait, where are you two going!? The set’s that way!!”

Almost immediately, a Pippins rolling a rack of costumes came barrelling past, nearly running them over. Battat yelped and dodged backwards, but he barely had time to brush himself off before Elnino and Lanina sashayed their way right into his path, practicing their lines. And that meant he got tripped up by a Zapper, who was rolling out a red carpet without any regard for whoever might be in their way!

Battat grumbled in irritation, pulling himself to his feet. No matter how much they protested, no matter how loud they yelled, no-one was listening! It seemed like they were practically invisible! And now a huge shadow with a distinctly pointed nose was looming over him, he braced himself for the worst, flashing a strained grin.

“Mr. Tenna!!! E-everything’s under control, I swear-”

“There you are.”

“Sir!?!”

Battat’s voice squeaked, his cheeks flushing chartreuse as Tenna suddenly picked him up off the ground, holding him by the back of his shirt. A few other Darkners had noticed the commotion, and were pointing at him, snickering; but they’d be the ones with hell to pay if they didn’t start listening to orders!

Strangely though, Tenna didn’t seem bothered at all by the delay. Seemingly unaware of how little time he had left before the show went live, he was walking down a hallway Battat didn’t recognize, still carrying them. And he didn’t seem to be listening either…

“Mr. Tenna, sir? Sir??”

And things were quickly becoming a lot stranger; it felt like he was being lifted higher, but even knowing the boss’ size-shifting capabilities, that made no sense! Tenna never exceeded more than 20 feet on set; even if he got angry enough that he lost control, he’d force himself to sit or lie down before his antennae got tangled in the stage lights. The one time it happened before, it took the maintenance crew hours to fix the signal!

But that was when Battat realized he felt oddly tingly all over, like static buildup. And everything around him, including the Darkners now pointing and laughing at him as they walked past… it was almost like they were…

“W-wait… wait, what’s happening to me??”

As Battat looked down, the floor seemed to move further and further away. The tingling sensation was getting worse, more intense. And he could feel Tenna adjusting his grip on him; going from four fingers to just three, then pinching just his cape between thumb and forefinger, leaving him to struggle in mid-air to avoid being choked - or even falling to his death.

It wasn’t Tenna who was growing taller - he was shrinking!

“Help!! HELP!!!”

His tiny squeaks went unheard as he shrank smaller and smaller. The thought crossed his mind for a moment that he might disappear entirely; but just as suddenly as it had started, the staticky feeling stopped. He wasn’t getting any smaller, but he couldn’t be more than an inch tall; and as Tenna pulled him further upwards and held him level with his face, he wished he could shrink out of existence.

Battat shook with terror. Tenna glowered at them.

“This is your fault!”

Tenna’s mouth twisted into a fanged snarl; his voice sounded distorted and wrong.

“It’s all YOUR FAULT!”

“Please-!” Battat started begging, pleading, clasping his hands together like a prayer; “I’ll be good, I swear! I’ll do better, I promise!! I promise I’ll be better!!!”

He screamed as Tenna abruptly let him go; the ground disappeared and a pit opened up below him, pouring out suffocating grey fog. He fell into it, blinded and helpless, until he landed hard at the bottom - the impact knocking the wind out of him.

An eerie silence descended; pain and cold wracked Battat’s body as they lay there, sobbing.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… ”

Far above them, a heavy door slammed shut like the lid of a coffin.

“And you’re going to STAY IN THERE until you-”

Battat gasped as they woke up; they struggled and flailed, thinking for a moment that the horrible fog had become solid, but as they freed their head they found nothing except an overstuffed, fluffy comforter. They sat up, taking in their surroundings, making sure they weren’t still an inch high, that everything was still normal… and realized where they were was anything but normal.

They’d woken up inside their own head, in the Inner World.

“I can… sleep in here… ?”

They could almost hear Mike answering them; yeah you can, dummy! Ya had a nightmare! But from the look of things, he was busy…

“Ya got it? Okay, sounds good - Pluey, stay in costume. Jongler, ya can go ahead an’ take off the getup when ya get the chance, but take the scenic route. Ya both been doin’ a fantastic job, but do not let the boss see both’a ya at the same time, capiche? I’ll see ya back up here for our break, over.”

Battat watched the screen as Mike hung up the walkie-talkie in the real world. It looked almost like… he was manning the control desk all by himself?? He was about to ask how, but then saw what he was doing in the inner world - referring to a thick binder of papers that looked almost like an instruction manual.

“Let’s see… adjustin’ volume, nope, not it… “ Mike flipped a few pages. “EQ? Oh, equalizers - okay, okay, this one. Good thing I know what sounds good, gotta balance that bass and treble… buuuut keep the levels in the green… an’ we are ready to rock!”

Surely he can’t-

They hesitated. Mike… actually seemed to be doing okay by himself. From the sound of things, Jongler and Pluey had their own jobs taken care of. And they vaguely remembered what Mike had done after he’d dropped the bomb that they were… unwell. They grimaced, trying not to think about it too much… that heavy, freezing, smothering feeling they’d felt before…

No, not that - focus! Focus on what happened, not what COULD happen-!

You’ll be okay, Bat… you’ll be okay…

Battat remembered, suddenly; overwhelmed with everything that happened that night, their legs had refused to work. Their mouth had refused to talk. Their eyes refused to focus on anything as their head filled with fog. Everything felt like a dream, but they were so tired. They couldn’t remember ever being this tired before.

Just rest up, okay? That’s it…

But they’d felt his hands carefully pick them up; and he’d carried them carefully over to the bed, and lay them down on its overstuffed mattress. He’d gently petted their head, staying by their side as their eyelids grew heavy. None of this felt real… they’d so badly wanted to wake up from this dream… but Mike’s gentle hands had kept them grounded. Kept the fear and despair at bay.

We got this… I promise.

And they’d finally closed their eyes, because they felt safe…

But back in the present, Battat opened his, and hopped off the bed. All thoughts of petrification had vanished, for now - only the feelings of that happy memory remained.

It was too bad his instincts were acting like they were an irritating thorn in his side; they wanted to fight against that warm fuzziness. Telling him that they were embarrassing, shameful. The fact the nightmare was still fresh in his mind didn’t help; all the other Darkners had done as he grew smaller and more helpless was point and laugh. They shouldn’t need anyone to take care of them! They weren’t that pathetic, they hadn’t fallen so low! They were strong enough to go it alone-!

The thorns surrounding the circular clearing creaked as they moved slightly inwards; and that was all the reminder they needed. He’d keep those feelings close, for as long as they’d let him.

“Not today,” Battat muttered to themself.

He turned towards a coat rack that had appeared next to the bed while he’d been asleep; apparently Mike had even been so kind as to take off his cloak and his tie before tucking him in. He reached for them almost instinctively, but found himself hesitating; he didn’t have to go anywhere, did he?

“Camera 3. Elnina? Lanino? You’re on in five.”

…No, he didn’t. Especially with Mike doing a downright uncanny imitation of his voice over the headset, it was like nothing had changed at all - no-one on the outside would be the wiser. He could actually relax for once! He could actually take a day off for once!

There was only problem; So what do I actually DO now…?

Battat stood there in thought for a moment; apparently now they were aware of each other, he shared some short-term memories with Mike - at least enough to give him basic information.

He hadn’t even been awake at all, but he “remembered” that Mike had gone to bed, showered, eaten breakfast, had lunch at the desk and so on. Things on the outside seemed to apply to the inside as well - so not only did he feel well-rested and clean, but he wasn’t hungry either. No sense in starting his daily routine…

A change of clothes could be nice, though?

He looked around; seemed like Mike had already gotten started adding a few things to their Inner World, so one more couldn’t hurt, could it?

Squinting and tracing a rough outline of a rectangle - and hardly concentrating at all - Battat manifested a full-length mirror, and stood in front of it. Their typical shirt and pants wasn’t a bad look; a classic for most Pippins, and an easy way to look neat and tidy at work. But why not change it up?

They debated for a moment whether to switch from pants to a skirt - the skirt was tempting, but pants were just so practical. Maybe not today, just in case they had to fight their way through the thorns again... so they started with the shirt, and all it took was one quick wave of his hand - from white to a handsome dark green.

Eh, it’s a start, but how about a pattern… ? Dark and light stripes? Nah, I look like a referee. Dark WITH light stripes? Ugh, cringe! Paisley? No, too busy… Hawaiian?? Okay… let’s not go nuts, but maybe…

Wow, this looks GOOD!

Battat did a happy little twirl in front of the mirror; they’d settled on a short-sleeved shirt with a pattern of small, white-outlined 20-sided dice, interspersed with dark green leaves. Another wave of their hand and their pants were a beige-cream sort of hue - and matching suspenders and a bowtie completed the look, didn’t it?

Wait, this’d be perfect with some snazzy shoes! Two-tone ones! Maybe with a little lift for some extra height… ?

They stumbled momentarily - Okay maybe not THAT much! - but by the time they’d fixed that and righted themself, with one hand on the mirror, they almost didn’t recognize their own reflection. Mainly because of the genuine smile on their face.

Geeky as hell, but subtle about it… it really is me, isn’t it… ?

He paused for a moment. Then he sighed, suddenly realizing his predicament.

And now I’m dressed up all nice and I STILL have nothing to do…

Battat turned around, casually taking inventory of what else had shown up in their little world. He figured he may as well make a few improvements; at least until work needed his attention again. And especially since there was an armchair nearby, and the blanket hanging lazily off one arm suggested someone had been sleeping in it…

Last night WAS pretty hectic, huh? And there was only one bed… that’s an easy fix, though…

Turning towards the bed, he framed it with his fingers; then, focusing on that image, picturing it like it was on one of his monitor screens, he moved it in his mind’s eye, slowly to the left… and let go, spawning an exact copy. Perfect!

And now just a few little changes!

Purple sheets turned to a forest green. They toned down the overstuffed fluffiness to something more reasonable, so they wouldn’t wake up feeling like they were drowning again. An extra pillow to support their neck, that was good, and lower the height just a bit. That eight-to-ten inch difference between him and Mike - and Mike’s apparent preference for sleeping on a cloud made of marshmallows - had meant he’d had to drop onto the floor.

The floor which was still barren, like concrete… or a blank canvas…

Hmmm.

Adding carpet would feel too weird without a clear idea of where the walls were, if there even was such a thing; but Battat figured having anything there would help. He drew a few concentric circles in his imagination, and a bullseye-like rug came into existence, both beds already resting on it comfortably.

Now what else?

There should probably be a place to store different outfits he liked; a simple set of drawers would do, and a copy for Mike as well.

Oh, and I’ll need my own bedside table! Maybe a reading lamp, if I can read in here - yeah, an architect-style lamp! Like the ones at work! Make it green, though. No - black? …Gold, maybe? Nah that’s too gaudy, stick with black. Black is actually fine.

Battat smiled, feeling pretty satisfied with what they’d built so far. They were taking their neglected imagination, stifled by months of gruelling work, out for a much-needed walk… and as they did, they did vaguely remember a time they’d let their mind wander. Retreating into fantasy to get away from the grind… maybe that was why it felt so natural, having things spring to life straight from their fingertips. Why had he even stopped? Had things just gotten that busy… ?

Then they noticed something they hadn’t noticed before.

Wait… are they retreating… ?

The green Pippins squinted; the outer ring of thorns that seemed to constantly surround them, no matter where they moved, had been pushed back. Some of them even seemed to have disappeared into the fog that surrounded the little clearing… he could vaguely make out their shapes, maybe, but he couldn’t see anything clearly.

There’s something really weird about that fog, they thought to themself. Mike had said something about walking into it, even running into it full-tilt, and just getting turned right around. Was it protecting something? Was it hiding something? He had a gut feeling that he could fix it somehow, but…

Where would I even start?

They looked at their hands, and they looked up to the sky. Nobody had told them how to change their outfit or make all that furniture; they just knew somehow, like Mike had somehow known he could touch the stars. He could reach up there and pluck them from the sky, or call to them and let them land in his palm like he had them trained. He made it seem so easy, so…

…Natural…

Out of curiosity, Battat tried something. Standing on the base of the lamp-post, he picked a star at random and pinched with his thumb and one finger… nothing. He tried to grab it with his whole hand - nothing. He tried scooping it up like a fish, with a handful of sky to sustain it - nothing, and he felt silly for even thinking of it. Waving his hand like it would dislodge it? Nope. They called out to it - quietly, so Mike wouldn’t hear them, wonder what the hell they were doing, and get distracted - but again, nothing.

They didn’t understand how that trick worked. They didn’t even know where to begin to make it work.

But it worked for Mike, because it just feels natural to him… like a gut feeling…

Battat went with their gut. Taking note of where the thorny vines had retreated the most, they extended their arm in that direction.

And this feels like it might work for me-

“BAT!!!”

There was no time for Battat to react before Mike practically tackled them, the green Pippins giving an undignified yelp as he scooped them up in a big hug.

“AUGH, put me down!!”

“Let me have this, okay??” Mike said snappily, giving him a squeeze. “I was worried ya weren’t gonna wake up!”

Battat stopped squirming, suddenly confused. The memories were still crystal clear in his head. The breakdown, discovering he wasn’t alone in here, having all three of his apparent new friends come through for him, all of that had happened just last night… hadn’t it?

So why would he… ?

“Wait, how did ya get a new outfit??” Mike put him down, looking him over; “Damn, my man! My snazzy jazzy nonbinary pal! That shirt is incredibly nerdy, but you are lookin’ sharp!”

“Thanks??” Battat said, a little flustered as Mike grabbed his hand, spinning him around like they were dancing; “But-”

“Dang, ya even got new shoes!” Mike continued, swinging Battat like there was actual music playing. “Any chance ya could show me where ya found ‘em? I mean I know the suit is kinda like my brand, but I was thinkin’ I could really rock a dress, one’a those ones with a puffy skirt-”

“Mike, how long was I asleep??”

“Uh.” Mike stopped the dance abruptly, suddenly looking sheepish; “A while?”

Battat squinted at him suspiciously; “How long is a while?”

“...Ya gotta promise ya won’t freak out-”

“MIKE!”

He sighed; “It’s been three days.”

“THREE DAYS!?” - if Battat had any hair, they would have been tearing it out by its roots. “But… but the schedule! The holiday schedule!!”

“Hey, hey, don’t sweat it!” Mike said, holding up his hands. “Ya ain’t been sleepin’ right for months! Ya obviously needed it!”

“Don’t sweat it?? I was asleep for three days!!!” Battat started pacing around in a tight circle, their hands flailing as they gestured wildly.

“Everything’s just packed this time of year!! There’s no room for mistakes, none whatsoever!!! Heads will roll, and I don’t just mean to play dice games-!!”

“BAT!” Mike grabbed him by his suspender, stopping him in his tracks. “Ya need to calm down! C’mon, deep breaths - that’s it - I mean, does our head look like it’s detached from our shoulders right now? We’re both still here at work, ain’t we??”

Battat glanced over Mike’s shoulder toward the front; he actually couldn’t see anything, the “movie screen” was completely black. Their fists and teeth clenched as fear turned to fury.

“Mike… !”

“Ah-ah!” Mike held up a finger on his other hand, silencing Battat. “Before ya blow up again, ya lil’ hothead, I ain’t sleepin’ on the job! Commercials are runnin’ - so it’s the perfect time to rest my eyes an’ check up on you!”

Now it was Battat’s turn to look sheepish.

“An’ besides - from what Jong and Plue told me? ‘Specially compared to previous years, this runup to the holidays ain’t been nearly as busy. We had a buncha stuff ready to go, with reruns to fill the gaps, but it feels like half the schedule’s been canned... my guess is the family’s too busy with somethin’ else. Maybe some other relatives comin’ to visit.”

Battat breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his head. And Mike let go of the elasticated strap, letting it snap back just enough to sting.

“OW!” Battat recoiled, glaring at him; “Mike, what the fuck!”

“That’s what ya get for not trustin’ me again. ‘Cause even if it was busy, remember ya got all three a’ us to fill in for ya! ‘Cause that’s what havin’ friends means, remember??”

Mike huffed in irritation, combing his fingers though his hair; “Oy gevalt, you an’ ya thick skull are gonna be the death… of… ”

His motor mouth slowed to a crawl, and finally stopped as he noticed the new additions to their Inner World.

“Where did all’a THIS come from?? Did you- Bat, did you make this??”

Battat hesitated, unsure how to react; “I, uh… ”

“An’ you’ve been awake for how long?”

“Uh…” Battat scratched the back of their head, trying to recall; “You said something about Jongler taking the scenic route?”

“This took ya less than an hour??”

Battat squinted at Mike skeptically; “What, like it’s hard?”

“YES! It IS hard! Or at least it was for me!”

Mike shook his head in disbelief; “It took me hours to make that bed! Concentratin’ on the details, interactin’ with every last bit so it knew how to be more real, lookin’ at it from all angles so it didn’t disappear back into that grey stuff… ”

“Well I mean…” Battat wasn’t sure what to do, but he felt a creeping sense of shame; “If it helps, you made a really good bed? I mean, originally I just copied it straight up-”

“Copied it.” Mike said, completely deadpan.

Battat looked nervous; “I made a few uh. Adjustments-”

“Ya can copy things??” Mike said, his expression desperate, his hands spread wide in a pleading gesture. “Is there anythin’ else ya ain’t been tellin’ me!?”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid, I… I didn’t know it shouldn’t be this easy! And I’m sorry I’ve been so ungrateful! You’ve done so much for me, so have Jongler and Pluey, just… please… ”

Battat looked away, gripping his left arm so tightly that it hurt. The memories of that nightmare felt a lot closer now, giving them a sinking feeling like they were shrinking again, or falling into that horrible place.

“... Please don’t be mad at me…”

“Bat - what’re ya sayin’ sorry for? I ain’t mad at you!” Mike said, putting his hands on Battat’s shoulders. “This is a gift! Ya should be proud!”

“A gift… ?”

“Battat, buddy… if ya can do all this… if ya can even change outfits in here? Without it even bein’ a big deal?” He laughed a little; “Ya must have an incredible imagination! Why didn’t ya tell me?? I thought ya were just some stuffy grumpy nerd, not an artist!”

“I’m… it’s not really like that… “ Battat said, still finding it hard to make eye contact. “I mean it felt sort of like finger-painting when I changed my outfit, at least at first, but… ”

They took a deep breath. They flexed their fingers, trying to grasp that feeling. Trying to put it into words.

“It’s more like I’m… telling a story. Like I’m seeing what should be here, what needs to be there, and it just… flows. There’s no pen, no pencil, it’s just me, and- and there’s no space between what I can imagine and what I can make! I just put it together in my head and it’s there! It’s right in front of me… not really real, but real enough! And it’s-it’s so easy for me, Mike!”

“I mean, just look at this! Look!” Battat held out their hands, and a near-exact replica of the mug they’d thrown against the wall dropped into them - intact, and good as new. They laughed; “Isn’t it just incredible??”

Mike smiled warmly, nodding.

“I haven’t felt like this since you threw me into that memory of you dancing!”

“Yeah, it is kinda like that, ain’t it?” Mike said, patting their shoulder. “So do ya see how it is, then? What’s ya heart’s tryin’ to tell ya?”

Battat was still struggling to pin down that feeling; “That I… need to cut loose more, right?”

“I ain’t sure that’s it, but you’re close. C’mon, let’s get back to the front - I only gotta play the tape for a rerun, we can keep talkin’ up there.”

Battat followed him diligently; once they were in front of the huge screen, they sat down on the floor together, and suddenly they were both back in the real world, sharing control.

“Any chance ya can gimme a hand here? We got an old movie supposed to be playin’ next, It’s-”

“-A Wonderful Life? Holiday Specials, subsection Classics.”

Battat retrieved the VHS, pushed it into the slot until he heard that distinctive ‘click’, and hit ‘play’. Bells rang softly through the speakers, letting them know everything was working properly, as a title card appeared on the screen.

Mike leaned back in the chair, putting the body’s hands behind its head.

“Anyways, like I was sayin’, I think ya almost got it. Dancin’s actually a pretty good comparison; ‘cause when I dance, I stop carin’ what anybody thinks’a me. I mean sure I’ve had a lotta practice, but ya think I’ve always been good at it? Ya think I can do it perfect in every situation?”

Mike chuckled; “How about bein’ four drinks deep, got a belly full’a appetizers, an’ the big boss just spun me around an’ around like one’a those whirligigs in the gift shop?”

“Wait - wasn’t that what happened in Cyber City?”

“Exactly!” Mike said, slapping his knee. “HAH, I almost puked! But I got away with it - all that happened was I stumbled around a bit, landed on my tuchus, an’ a couple’a Swatchlings helped me up as everybody laughed.”

Battat felt a pang of sympathy; but Mike really didn’t seem bothered at all.

“But did I care?? Heck no I didn’t! ‘Cause when I’m dancin’, I can step like a baby elephant with two left feet, I can look ridiculous, a real circus clown… but none of it matters ‘cause I’m still havin’ fun. I ain’t afraid of messin’ up. I ain’t afraid of lookin’ stupid, ‘cause that ain’t the end of the world.”

Mike turned towards his friend in the Inner World, smiling at them.

“Nobody knows ya own heart better than you do, Bat. But think about this - what is it in life that makes ya heart sing? What d’ya think you’d do, if ya weren’t scared of what might happen? Have ya ever asked yourself that?”

Battat shook his head, looking thoughtful.

“Ya don’t gotta answer that right away; just somethin’ to marinate on while we wait for Jongler an’ Pluey.” Mike chuckled; “Those two are gonna be so happy to see ya again, I swear I might hafta front to tell ‘em to take it ea-”

The phone rang.

Hey, wait-!!

Battat jumped up in a panic, immediately grabbing the front and the receiver - had he put in the wrong tape?? Did Tenna want the colorized version??

“Y-you’ve reached the control room, this is Battat speaking-!!”

“Oh Batty, don’t tell me you forgot again, hmm?”

“...Fortune?”

Sorry, this one’s for me - Mike said, gently moving Battat to one side so he could front. I’ll explain things as I can, okay?

“I mean, hold on a second-” switching in and imitating Battat’s voice, Mike grabbed a handful of papers and shuffled them close to the receiver. “Tenna’s had me running errands for him again, my hands are full - speakerphone okay?”

“Of course! And it’s she/her today, by the way.”

“Got it.”

Mike hit the speaker button, rustling the papers more, and Battat realized just how smart he was being - he was making room for excuses! Making noise in the room would maintain the illusion that he was busy, buying them precious extra seconds to confer with one another if they needed to!

This is probably about tomorrow…

Tomorrow?

I arranged a meetin’. Figured we could ask some questions, maybe get some answers.

He opened a drawer on the desk and closed it hard enough for Fortune to hear it.

About our past, I mean… sorry I couldn’t ask ya first.

“So tomorrow, then!” she said, practically squealing with delight. “Thank you so much for putting a word in with Mike!! Or does he prefer Mr. Motormouth?”

Her voice abruptly changed tone; “... Or do you call him Mikey?”

Battat looked mortified. Mike had to stifle a laugh in the Inner World, clearing his throat loudly in the body.

“He, uh, just goes by Mike - and we just work together, to be clear. But anyway, he owed me - I knew he’d be able to pull some strings, get you some time off.”

“Oh of course Batty darling - he ‘owed you’, hmm?”

Battat scowled; he could hear the air quotes through the phone, and Mike was wheezing in the Inner World, covering his mouth, doubled over with effort from trying not to laugh. They stepped in, letting Fortune hear exactly how annoyed they really were.

“We are still meeting, right?? Because you don’t sound like you’re taking this seriously, and I’ve got a packed schedule-”

“Oh of course, of course we are! I’m so sorry for teasing you while you're swamped, goodness knows the costume department has been run ragged; but hand on heart, Batty, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Are you still alright to meet in, you know… the little hiding place… ?”

Battat scowled at Mike, who was finally recovering from his giggling fit - Get in here!! YOU know what the hell she’s talking about!! - and they switched.

“I’ll meet you backstage, under that one poster that has ‘T.V.’ on it. 7pm sharp, like we agreed.” Mike rolled the chair around a little and threw an empty water bottle into the trash can, trying to sound busy. “Mike’s assistants should have me covered ‘til 9, maybe 9:30, but I’m not drinking while I’m technically still on the clock, capiche?”

Battat nearly screamed; Capiche!? Mike, I don’t SAY capiche!!

Mike slapped the body’s right hand over its mouth in horror.

Oh, craps. Maybe she didn’t notice??

“Oh you’re no fun. But I suppose you and Mike do work quite closely with Mr. Tenna, hmm? Must be hard, being at the beck and call of someone like him, ugh... ”

Inside their head, Mike breathed a sigh of relief; Battat just looked irritated.

“Well you don't need to SHOUT!" Fortune said; it sounded somewhat muffled, like she was covering the receiver with her hand as she shouted back. "Sorry about that, Batty, my skilled hands are in high demand - but you can just bring yourself, and I’ll bring the High Rollers of course! Ciao!”

“Wait what’s-”

She hung up, leaving Mike and Battat looking at each other in the Inner World, as the movie played on.

“The High Rollers, huh… any clue what she meant by that?”

“You mean you don’t know either??” Battat snapped; “Well this entire meeting was your idea, Mike! So I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we!?”

They covered their face and groaned, as Mike gave them a sympathetic pat.

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll be just fine… I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Chapter Text

“So whaddya think?”

“What do I think?” Battat sighed; “I think you should be the one to do the talking. I’m not… good at situations like this.”

The green Pippins leaned back on the couch - the latest addition to their Inner World - folding their arms. It looked uncannily out of place, sitting in the middle of a still-foggy clearing on a bare grey floor, but it at least beat sitting on that floor while fronting. They’d arrived at their meeting spot slightly early; and for lack of anything better to do, Battat had retreated into their head to wait out the rest of the time, saving him from anxiously counting down the last few minutes until 7pm.

“That ain’t what I meant, but ya ain’t gonna get any better at it if ya don’t try.”

Mike sat down next to them; while Battat’s side of the couch was relatively unadorned, the other side was a veritable nest of colorful throw pillows. The two of them seemed to have vastly different preferences when it came to comfort, but they were quickly finding ways to work around it.

“Ahh, comfy… but anyways, who knows? Maybe it is you they remember. Maybe it’s you they’re lookin’ for, dummy!”

He playfully threw a die-shaped pillow at Battat’s head; it bounced off, hardly getting a reaction from the Pippins at all.

“Somehow I doubt that…” Battat leaned on their hand dejectedly. “Ever consider that at some point, we must have sounded the same? I mean why else would you be able to imitate my voice, but not the other way around? They probably thought you were me, and I’m the stranger here.”

“Ehhh… honestly, that ain’t somethin’ I ever thought about too much. But who knows; even if that is true, an’ I ain’t sayin’ it is - once we tell ‘em our secret, maybe they’ll wanna see what they’ve been missin’ out on!”

“Tell them our-!?” Battat looked incredulous, immediately whipping round to face Mike; “You can NOT be serious right now!!”

“HAH! ‘Bout damn time ya looked over here.” Mike grinned back at him; “So I’ll ask again - what do ya think?”

While he’d braved the crowds in the cafeteria at breakfast, Battat had taken the time to put together a few outfits for him in their Inner World, as per his request. And even though nobody could see it, he’d dressed all all the same for tonight’s outing; a black and red dress, with a flattering sweetheart neckline and a layered skirt that looked almost like rose petals, all filled out with white petticoats to give it that puffy look he’d dreamed of. And the cherry on top was the glittery red bow; not around his neck this time, but affixed to the side of his head.

He struck a cute pose, still waiting for a reaction.

“You look nice,” Battat said, flatly.

Mike huffed; “Really, that’s all you gotta say??”

“Okay, the bow is a really nice touch - but you did just say that thing about, you know, telling them about our whole… our whole thing to get my attention, right??”

“Uh, yeah? I thought that was-”

“I mean, you’re not actually going to tell them, are you??” Battat asked desperately, their pre-meeting nerves finally catching up to them. “I mean, yeah, if we’re supposed to be friends, we… we can’t keep everything from each other!! And Jongler and Pluey know, but… but we still can’t… !“

“Bat-”

“I mean, what if it goes badly?? Fortune loves gossip!! She already thinks we’re ‘a thing’ you know!? And who knows how many Darkners she’s whispered that to as she’s getting them measured up and dressed?? Rumors spread fast!!”

“Bat, look at me. Look at me.”

“And what if something happens while we’re in there? What if someone makes a scene about it?? We can’t risk every Pippins in TV World knowing that we’re like this!! Knowing that we’re… that I’m… that there’s… something… ”

“There’s something…” Battat struggled to take a breath, wheezing and gasping for air; “...wrong… with me… !”

“You’re okay, Bat… c’mon, it’s okay… ”

Mike took Battat’s hand gently in both of his. They seemed to respond well to touch whenever they panicked or dissociated, so he used his thumb to rub gently back and forth over their fingers. And once their breathing started to slow, he leaned forward; lightly pressing his forehead against theirs. Silently reassuring his friend that he was still here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

The pair sat there for a few moments. Slowly but surely, Battat’s ragged breaths turned to quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry… ” Battat said tearfully, wiping his eye with his other hand.

“Y’don’t have ta be,” Mike said softly. He squeezed their hand. “It’s okay. I’m scared, too.”

Just like how Battat found it hard to hold onto feelings of joy, comfort and closeness, Mike couldn’t feel sad or scared for too long before those feelings went somewhere else. To someone else.

So he knew he was scared, but instead of actually feeling it, he just felt… hollow. Filled with nothing but the feeling of there being something missing. And though he knew he couldn’t help it he resented it so much; that feeling that something was being taken from him. Their fractured mind wasn’t even letting him feel bad for making things worse; instead, it was Battat who was feeling all that awful crap. Feeling it for both of them.

Mike clenched his teeth, barely restraining his anger at how unfair it all was, when he saw a purple Pippins approaching from around the corner.

“Hey so if you wanna-”

“I’m not leaving… ” Battat muttered. Mike could tell from the look on his face he was dissociating, but he was at least lucid enough to add - “If it tells us why we’re like this, I wanna be there for it… ”

Mike patted Battat’s hand gently before he was forced to let go.

“Just let me do the talkin’ for now, okay? Gimme a tap on the shoulder if you’re steppin’ in- hey, hey, focus, dummy!” He wagged his finger, drawing his friend’s gaze back to him. “Just stay with me a second longer, okay? Repeat after me; we can do this.”

“... We can do this… ”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll take care’a things ‘til ya feel better.”

Mike turned towards Fortune, who was greeting him with a wave.

“Hello Batty! Well don’t you look happy to see me today… ” Fortune smirked. “Is Mr. Mike treating you particularly well these days, hmm?”

Ah craps, I forgot I shouldn’t smile… good thing improv is my game of choice…

“And there goes all my excitement for seeing what all the hype around this place is about.” He frowned at her, folding his arms; “You know he’s just my co-worker, right? And that I could just walk away from this entire thing right now?”

“Well I promise I’ll behave tonight, at least until I have a few cocktails in me… ” She beckoned for him to follow, and they started walking together. “This is your first time visiting, hmm?”

“Well-”

“Oh what am I saying, of course it is! You never did give a shit about gambling, drinking, or anything remotely Pippins-like, hmm?”

Huh, so Battat’s always been an outlier? A Pippins that’s not Pippins-like…

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped, staying in-character.

“Oh don’t be like that, Batty, I never said it was a problem.” Fortune said, waving her hand. “No matter your quirks you were always just you… oh, and speaking of which, thank you so much for giving us another chance! We promise we won’t let you down!”

“Wait - ‘us’? ‘We’?”

Fortune stopped in front of a disused dressing room curtain. Once upon a time, it had been used for hair and makeup for the Music Channel; but ever since that fell mostly silent behind the parental lock, most of the area had been re-purposed or simply left to rot.

“The High Rollers of course! What, you thought I wasn’t going to bring everyone along?” She stepped aside, taking a bow. “After you!”

Guess that confirms it, Mike thought to himself, nodding silently and stepping through the curtain.

Poor Battat had been way too burnt out to figure out what she’d meant last night; but after the initial surprise, Mike had it figured out. Of course she was bringing the rest of her posse; and from what he’d seen of her, it was very much like Fortune to give them a cool-sounding name. Made him even more curious about getting to know them properly, but…

Hey, are you doin’ any better?

Mike looked over at Battat, who was staring straight ahead… and pointing at something on the big screen.

What’s that weird flower on the wall? Top left corner. The green one.

Mike turned his head; it looked like the area was mostly being used for storage, with a few stacks of cardboard boxes and old bottles of hair dye littered about. But sure enough, someone had spray-painted some kind of symbol where Battat was pointing. Vaguely flower-shaped, with six ‘petals’.

“Oh trust me, things get much more interesting once you’re actually inside… ” Fortune said, sashaying past him and towards an unassuming full-length mirror.

She knocked on it rhythmically - six times in total - and a muffled voice came from behind it.

“Password?”

A hidden door??

Battat looked shocked. Mike, meanwhile, could hardly contain his excitement.

Oh my god, is this what I think it is!?

“Mistletoe, darling - and don’t keep me waiting this time, hmm?? I paid good POINTs for a private room, I’ll have you know!”

The mirror swung open with a creak; a Pippins with a cigarette dangling from their mouth and a dour expression stood there, squinting skeptically at Fortune’s companion for a moment, before ushering them both quickly inside.

Ugh, it stinks of old beer in here…

It was so dark they could barely see; but just ahead of them was a set of double doors. And from behind them; the sounds of music, laughter, cheering, and rolling dice filtered through.

No way - there’s no way-!!

“House rules; listen and listen good. No rough-housing. No bothering the other patrons. You break it, you pay for it. No smoking except in the private rooms, that includes cigars. And absolutely no talking about this outside these walls.”

The door guarding Pippins glared at them, knocking the ash off his cigarette like it was a threat.

“You got that, greeny?”

Battat just nodded in response; they were temporarily taking the front solo, because Mike was so excited by this point he was practically squealing. He had a huge grin on his face, his fists clenched and excitedly waving back and forth, like he was watching his favorite movie and they were about to get to ‘the good part’...

Fortune stepped in front of them, tossing her purple scarf over her shoulder. And she flashed a grin as she pushed the doors open;

“Welcome, Batty - TO THE SIX-LEAF CLOVER!”

Battat squinted as the gloom transitioned once again; this time to yellow lights that shone down from the chandeliers overhead. It reflected off the attractive black and white tiles on the floor, and the carved, golden-hued wood of the generously-stocked bar, where a couple of Pippins were mixing drinks with a stylish flourish. Opulent armchairs and sofas in leather and velvet were scattered around, almost every one occupied by yet more Pippins - as was every green-felt table for poker, craps, blackjack and more.

I can’t believe it!! An actual, honest-to-god SPEAKEASY!!!

They descended the stairs, and every so often, a cheer would go up as someone won big, or a cry of anguish as hard-earned POINTs went down the drain. Toasts were called for, glasses and beer mugs clinked together. Old friends sang old songs of the old Card Kingdom; with lyrics modified to be as crude as possible, of course.

An’ it’s right here -  it’s right here in TV World! How did anyone afford all’a this??

I think I know how… Battat said to Mike, grimacing as he stepped in something sticky. How long has it been since somebody CLEANED in here??

“Come on Batty, don’t spend too long gawking, hmm?”

Oh… huh…

Now that they were down here, Mike couldn’t hide his growing disappointment as the illusion fell away. Everything looked worn-out and cobbled together; the “leather” furniture was mostly duct tape, the couches were threadbare and covered in haphazard patches, and so were the gambling tables. The chandeliers were covered in dusty, burnt-out and broken bulbs; most of that cozy glow only coming from some cheap string lights.

Cuttin’ every single corner an’ then some, huh? At least there’s booze I guess… if only we were drinkin’...

The bar was just painted balsa wood… the tiles, cheap linoleum... and the more Battat looked around the room, the more it looked like…

“An old stage set… ” they paused; “Wait - for the cowboy thing, right? Pride Wood Pete or something?”

“And a few other bits and pieces,” Fortune said with a shrug. “Nobody ever checks back here, not ever since that creepy puppet show was cancelled… oh, watch your step, those boards are loose!”

Battat deftly stepped around them; but from the sound of things, a Pippins who just went running past in the other direction wasn’t so lucky. There was a loud crash, and laughter and cheers went up from their surroundings.

“Don’t worry about that, they’ll be fine! We might all rip off, scam and cheat one another, but in the end all we Pippins have is other Pippins… ”

Sure enough, as Battat glanced over his shoulder, they saw the unlucky Darkner was being helped to their feet; someone was handing them a towel.

“Hey, wait-!”

They scrambled to catch up - but Fortune seemed to be in the middle of a rant, and hadn’t even noticed the distance between them.

“I mean, they just don’t get it! They just don’t! It’s why we carved out this little niche, so we can gamble and cheat to our hearts content, and be ourselves without fear. So we Pippins can be Pippins.” She looked back at him and winked. “Not that you’d relate to that exactly, hmm?”

“Uh. More than you might think… ” Battat said, nervously gripping his arm. He felt like a few of the surrounding Pippins were staring at him.

“Are you alright, Batty? You seem a little pale… ”

Maybe it was just the novelty of seeing two ‘off-color’ Pippins together, but he swore for a second he heard the name ‘Mike’ followed by chuckling. A table nearby started giggling - “Did you hear?” “No way!”.

Fortune seemed to have noticed, too.

“... Alright, we’re going. Come on.”

She quickly took Battat’s hand and dragged him along with her, but he couldn’t un-hear what he was hearing, or un-see what he was seeing. A Pippins holding a fruity cocktail whispered something to the Pippins next to them, who looked scandalized - both of them staring right at him. Another Pippins pointed. Even more of them turned around. Laughter erupted from somewhere.

They could feel their heart racing. The horrible ringing in their ears was starting. In their Inner World, Mike saw what was happening and tried to step in... but something was wrong.

Wait a second-wait… Bat, I can’t- I can’t get in??

Fortune’s voice sounded muffled. Battat was starting to feel confused; what were they supposed to be doing, again… ?

What’s goin’ on!? Why can’t I see you!? BATTAT!!

They couldn’t quite remember where they were. They couldn’t quite remember who they were. They felt like they were no-one, like they were nowhere, like they were floating.

Oh god… oh god I feel sick… wait, wait NO-!

Colors blurred into each other in both the inner world and the outer one and formed that thick, grey, suffocating fog from his nightmare, choking out every sound, muting every sensation, even making the overwhelming fear feel far away. Somewhere, distantly, it felt like someone was pulling on their arm. They were vaguely aware they were moving somewhere. They were vaguely aware that someone helped them sit down on the floor.

They tried to see inside their head, but it was like everything had just dissolved; there was nothing except grey fog, and the ever-present screen.

“Mike… ?”

“Not quite, Batty… ”

They felt something press against their forehead.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this would be so overwhelming for you… I mean who would have thought it’d be this rowdy early on a Tuesday??”

Someone touched the side of their face, gently. Someone was holding their hand, squeezing it. It was like they knew how to keep them grounded…

“We’re still at the Six Leaf, okay? Just somewhere a little quieter. You’re with me, we’re going to meet your friends, and I paid for a private room for us… no prying eyes, no listening ears. I promise you’re safe here, Battat… ”

At the mention of their name, Battat suddenly snapped to attention. They were in another hallway; this one at least a little cleaner, but it still had the distinctive musty smell of a place that had sat unused for a while.

“Fortune?”

“There you are!” The purple Pippins sighed in relief; “I’m not sure if you could hear me, but I am so sorry-”

“What happened?? Where’s-!?”

In the Inner World, Battat looked around desperately for Mike. He still couldn’t see anything; had they been separated somehow?? The fog that surrounded him was starting to clear a bit, enough that he could see he was still on the couch, but-

“The others? They’re waiting for us, but we can take a moment.” She handed him a bottle of water; “You just had one of your… little moments, that’s all… ”

Battat very nearly did a spit-take, but managed to swallow the mouthful quickly. Had he done something embarrassing and promptly forgotten about it!?

“What do you mean, ‘little moments’??”

“Well, you know, when you feel all dizzy and sleepy and you just sort of… ” Fortune stared straight ahead, moving her hand in front of her eyes.

In the body, Battat looked shellshocked. In the inner world, he was squinting into the fog again, looking for some sign of life; Mike, where the hell are you?!?

“Batty?? Don’t tell me you’ve gone again-”

“No, I’m here! I’m here… ”

Battat shook his head, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He could do this, he could handle this… Mike was always saying they had to trust him, so he’d just have to trust that wherever Mike had gone, he’d eventually find his way back to the front…

“You’ve… seen me do that before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many times… “ she sighed; “I was hoping maybe you were feeling better, that maybe you’d seen one of those fancy antivirus doctors while we still had the Cyber City connection… but luck really isn’t on your side, is it?”

“It never really was…” Battat sighed, taking a swig of water.

There was still no sign of Mike. At this point, their only hope was to keep talking, and hope he’d be able to follow the sound of their voice. That meant pushing forward with talking to Fortune and her posse… but this wasn’t what they were good at! They didn’t have a single crumb of Mike’s natural charisma or charm!

…But then, in the fog, a little spark.

They remembered what he did mere minutes earlier; squeezing their hand. Pressing his forehead to theirs as they wept, paralyzed by terror.

“It’s okay. I’m scared, too.”

Battat thought to himself; You were dreading this as well, weren’t you?

Another brief flash of memory, with a red star above them. They remembered how Mike told them, just brushing his fingertips against it had left him in agony.

“I might know. But ya probably won’t like it.”

Battat felt a pang of sympathy; Understanding the truth about us… it hurt you to try, but you KEPT trying…

More flashes; these ones both painful and recent. They remembered the life-or-death desperation in Mike’s voice; how he’d pleaded with them to not lose hope, to not give up, not give in to despair.

“I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life as a GOD! DAMN! STATUE!!!”

“We need to understand where we came from if we’re ever gonna belong anywhere… ”

“I can’t lose you again.”

Battat’s fist clenched around the water bottle; they got up, their legs shaking, but their heart aflame with purpose.

I can’t let you down, Mike… you brought us this far, this close to the truth, and I’ll take us further even if I have to CARRY you the rest of the way!

Then they tried to take a step, and immediately stumbled, falling forward… straight into Fortune’s arms.

“Batty, be careful!! Are you sure you’re alright?? We can always-”

“I’ll be okay… I’ve been waiting too long for this… ” Battat said, grimacing slightly; he felt unbelievably dizzy. “Can I just… lean on you until we’re sitting down?”

“Oh, I’ll do you one better than that, darling!” Fortune said happily. With a flourish of her hand and some falling sparks, a solid white dice stick - like those used on a craps table - manifested in her hand. “Ta-daa!”

“Don’t be shy, take it!” She shoved it into Battat’s hands; “Doesn’t it just suit you, hmm?”

Experimentally, he leaned on it; it definitely proved sturdy enough to support his weight, but it felt abnormally light… then it suddenly dawned on him.

“Is this one of your attacks?”

“It is!” Fortune said, clapping her hands joyfully. “I didn’t think you’d remember it, but I use it as a cane these days! Whenever my bad knee starts to misbehave at work, you know… but are you alright, now?”

Battat took a deep breath; he had to remember, even like this, he wasn’t truly alone.

“Lead the way… and, uh, thanks for the help. And the water.”

“Oh it’s nothing, Batty! No, really… for the price I paid, that fridge full of chilled water had better be included, or the next ones to see my attack are going to be the Pippins running this place… ”

Approaching another curtain - another repurposed dressing room - Fortune moved it to one side, and walked in first. Battat followed, and before he could say anything, she’d already raised her arms up and was spinning her head rapidly.

“HI, ROLLERS!”

The Pippins responded in unison, performing the same gesture.

“ROLL ‘EM HI!”

One by one their numbers came up; 3, 2, another 3. Fortune rolled a fairly decent 5 - but it became entirely obvious who just rolled an unbeatable six and who just lost a bet, when Chance howled in anguish and Opportunity pointed right at him, laughing.

“AAAAGH!!! WHY??”

“OHHH BABY A SIX!! I WIN AGAIN!! AHAHAHAAA!!!”

“Why do I always do this to myself!?” Chance groaned, his head down on the table. Big Break gave him a slow, sympathetic pat on the back.

Oppy, meanwhile, was standing up on the curved booth seat they were all sitting on, smacking their ass with both hands and wiggling it in Chance’s general direction.

“KISS MY SHINY PLASTIC HINEY, LOSER!!! You owe me a drink!”

“But- but I already ordered you nachos!!”

“Ah-ah, nice try, but that was for last time!” Oppy sat back down, wagging their finger at Chance; “This time you’re buying me a cocktail! One of the fancy ones! With a tiny umbrella in it, and a slice of pineapple, and a cherry, and-”

“... Opportunity.” It was Big Break who spoke up, putting their oversized hand on the golden Pippins’ shoulder. “Our guest is here… and you are being rude… ”

Battat waved back to the group, awkwardly; seeing them greet each other, it reminded him how little of anything he knew about his supposed friends. Aside from names and basic facts, it was effectively like meeting a bunch of strangers… but much to his confusion and surprise, as soon as they saw him, Oppy’s eyes were welling up with tears.

“Battat?? You… you... you a-a-actually came back??”

“Wait, what happened to you!?”

Chance was next to speak up; slipping out of his seat and straight under the table, the constantly-disheveled Pippins was scrambling to get to Battat as quickly as possible, repeatedly tripping over his own feet on the way.

“Did you guys get into a fight!? Is-is that Fortune’s attack??”

Battat, more confused than ever, opened their mouth to say something - only to be cut off and caught off guard as Chance’s fingers glowed green.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you!!” Chance laid his palm on their head, and the warm, soothing feeling of healing magic - not a common talent for Pippins - flowed forth.

“We didn’t get in a fight, Chance… ” Fortune said, shaking her head. “Batty just had one of their dizzy spells… Big Break, honey, would you mind helping?”

The giant Pippins was already walking over; and with surprising gentleness, they slowly guided Battat over to their seat, where the latest addition to the High Rollers was waiting for them. They waved a greeting, their other hand fidgeting with the chain around their neck.

“It’s nice to see you again… hopefully you’re, uh, doing okay after last time… ?”

He’d almost forgotten just how small Charm actually was - he was already short for a Pippins, but the tiny Darkner was less than half his height. It was no wonder she’d chosen to sit on the table, on what looked like a spare seat cushion; she wouldn’t be able to reach anything otherwise.

“Everyone’s been worried, since you, uh, lost your memory ‘n all… oh, and I know you don’t drink, but let me know if I can grab you anything?”

“Well, I… uh… ”

Something very specific suddenly came to the front of Battat’s mind - or rather, it bonked against their head in the inner world, falling onto the couch. Picking up the crumpled paper ball, they opened it up and read it.

“Actually - could you ask the bar for an Ipanema? It’s a mocktail; you just muddle a whole fruit’s worth of lime wedges, drop in a spoon of cane sugar before you add the ice, top it off with ginger ale and stir. Mint garnish is uh, optional, but appreciated.”

“Okay wow, wait, that sounds good?!”

“That’d go great with my free nachos!”

“...May I also have one?”

He felt so relieved he could almost cry. Just like he’d hoped, Mike was still there. He must have gotten lost somewhere in their Inner World, stumbling around in the fog, but he wasn’t gone. And even if they couldn’t hear his voice, even if he couldn’t reach them, he was still listening. He was still caring.

And he’d helped them break the ice with something much more conversation-friendly than ‘just water’s fine’.

Thanks, Mike…

“Well we’ll make it a round, then! Get one for yourself too, my little darling - and tell the bar to put it on my tab, hmm?”

Fortune smiled as she sat down next to Battat, and the tiny Pippins gave a salute, running off the table and out the door so quickly it was practically a blue blur.

“Isn’t he just a sweetheart? He’s got to be one of the smallest Darkners in TV World… knee-high to a Ribbick, I swear… ” she said, sighing a little. “He actually reminds us of you, Batty.”

Battat gestured to himself; “Me?”

“Charm’s, uhh, different. Different like you??“ Chance pulled at his tie nervously; “Heh, someone else can probably explain better… ”

“Well, all of us High Rollers are a little different from most other Pippins, right?” Oppy said, wiping their glasses on their cape. “I mean, even Chance stands out for being such a loser - ”

“I can heal, you know!!”

“- But just like you, she doesn’t really get things like gambling. She doesn’t even know how to play most casino games, not on instinct like most Pippins, and that’s made it hard for her to make friends.”

“We found them alone… ” Big Break sighed heavily; “The other Darkners did not notice them, or hear their voice… because they are very small… ”

“And the poor little thing was starving!” Fortune lamented. “It didn’t have a single POINT or even a Dark Dollar to its name, had no idea what this place was about… I mean goodness knows where it came from, but none of us have ever seen a Pippins quite like Charm… ” ✱

She sighed; “But needless to say, it really did feel like history repeating itself, hmm?”

Fortune was surrounded by heads nodding in agreement; except for Battat, who just looked at her, blankly.

“You… do know what I’m talking about? Don’t you, Batty?”

The green Pippins rubbed the back of his head with his hand. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to admit to it, not when it could ruin everything and make him look like an idiot-

But then he stopped, and looked around at the table, every Pippins was different in shape, size and color, but their expressions were all a cocktail of worry, sadness, and hope. Despite everything… despite both he and Mike losing their memories of them… they all still cared.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really remember anything from the Card Kingdom - just that I was there.”

He sighed, giving a wistful smile; “But I really appreciate you guys taking the time to help me. You’ve been really good to me, you’ve treated me like I’m one of you… and that’s way more than I deserve, after the way I kept ignoring and dismissing you-”

“Batty, what are you saying!?” Fortune said, putting her hand on his other arm. “Amnesia or not, you are one of us!”

Oppy smirked, adjusting their glasses; “I mean, what are you, some kind of quitter?”

“Once a High Roller, always a High Roller!!!” Chance said enthusiastically, slamming the table with his fist.

“We can help you remember us… ” Big Break said, as carefully as always. “And we will help you, remember you.”

And right on cue, Charm came rushing back into the room, carrying a full tray of drinks above its head.

“I’m back! You guys ready??”

Battat carefully reached down and took the tray; then offered the tiny Pippins his hand, giving them a boost back up to their own seat.

He still couldn’t see or hear Mike, or much of anything in the Inner World thanks to the near-impenetrable fog; but he did feel the couch shift a little, like someone much heavier than him just had flopped on the other side of it. And in some way they didn’t understand yet, they could sense relief - like he could also feel their presence, even while they were separated like this.

Holding onto that thought, Battat took a deep breath, steadying himself as best he could.

“Ready as I’ll ever be… ”