Chapter Text
The night air in Cyber City tasted like ozone and forgotten dreams. I was on my usual [Late-Night Shopping Spree], which is to say, I was rattling around in the back alleys, my short, plastic legs scuttling through puddles of iridescent liquid. My eyes, ever-vigilant behind their pink and yellow lenses, scanned the overflowing dumpsters for anything with [Resale Value]. A slightly-used wire. A cracked mouse. Half a keyboard. These were the building blocks of my comeback. You gotta start small to become a [BIG SHOT] again. One man’s [Recycle Bin] is another Spamton’s [Inventory].
I kept my head down, my gaze fixed on the gutters. Can't look up. Up there were the big buildings, the clean windows, the glowing signs of the Addisons. Pink, Yellow, Blue, Orange. All of them, with their smug, successful smiles, selling their dumb wares from their dumb shops. They never looked down here. They wouldn’t want to see what a [Failed Prototype] looked like.
A glint of something caught my eye. Ka-ching. A discarded battery. Still had a little [Juice] left in it. I snatched it up, the cold metal a familiar comfort in my palm. Profit margin: 100%. Another successful transaction. I was a real [Businessman], on my way back to the top. Any day now.
That’s when it happened.
The hum died. The eternal, electric thrum of the Cyber City—the very air I breathed—just... stopped. The neon signs flickered, stuttered, and went dark. The towering skyscrapers became black monoliths against a digital sky. For one horrifying second, the world was silent and dead. It was the sound of the phone after the calls stopped coming. My entire body locked up, a primal fear shooting through my circuits.
BZZZZT. A city-wide screech of static, and then a calm, corporate voice echoed from unseen speakers, devoid of all panic.
ATTENTION CITIZENS. DUE TO A CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE IN THE LIBRARY DATABASE, ALL EXIT GATES HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY DISABLED. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. THE CITY IS CURRENTLY UNDER A LEVEL ONE LOCKDOWN. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.
Lockdown. Trapped. No way out.
My fear, that cold, dead silence, was instantly vaporized by a new feeling. A glorious, manic, sizzling energy that tasted like opportunity. My head snapped up, my glasses catching the faint emergency lights that had just flickered on. And I saw it.
WHOOSH. A holographic sign blazed to life on the side of a nearby hotel. "UNPLANNED STAYCATION? LOCKDOWN SPECIAL! 50% OFF YOUR FIRST NIGHT!" Another one popped up a second later. "NOWHERE TO GO? CHECK IN! WE HAVE FREE WI-FI!"
My jaw, my whole face, went slack. They were immediately on it. The [Big Shots]. They saw a crisis and immediately turned it into [Kromer]. It was beautiful. It was downright predatory. My kind of language. It was… inspiring.
An idea exploded in my mind, so bright and powerful it made the emergency lights look like dying embers. A hotel. A place to stay. For all these poor, trapped [Consumers]. My very own hotel.
And just like that, another memory, sharp and painful, superimposed itself over the glorious vision. The last time I had a plan this good. This perfect. Down in the Queen’s basement. The darkness, the hum of powerful machinery, and the magnificent sight of it: the body. The NEO. My ticket to [HEAVEN]. All it needed was a little push, a little [Data Transfer].
I could still feel the phantom thrill of it, explaining my master plan to the kid. To Kris. The one person who'd bothered to listen, to follow me into the dark. I was giving them the deal of a lifetime! A front-row seat to my ascension!
“WE'LL BECOME SO POWERFUL,” I’d told them, my voice trembling with the sheer, beautiful potential of it all. “WE'LL STAND UP WITH OUR HEADS IN THE CLOUDS AND LOOK INTO [HEAVEN]! JUST UPLOAD ME, KID! PUT THE DISK IN! [Now's Our Chance]!”
And Kris... they just stood there. Looked from the beautiful, powerful machine to my hopeful, grinning desperate face. Their expression was impossible to read under that hair, but somehow, I could detect a slight fear... that same fear that's been there since he came into my shop to and told me that he got the disc... that he saw that NEO body. And their silence was his answer. They took a step back. That was it. One single step, but it was a chasm opening between us. They were refusing. Rejecting my dream. Another one to reject me.
The world had gone red. A screech of pure, glitching fury had torn from my voice box as I’d transformed, the sheer force of my rage and despair let out into a glitchy screech, making my face glitch out. But they didn’t fight. They didn’t argue. They just… turned and ran. Fled, like some little Pacifist they always were. Left me there, a monster in the dark with my broken dream. They’d heard me out at my lowest, only to be the one to plunge the final [Dagger].
The memory stung, a fresh jolt of acid through my wires. NO. Not again. That plan failed because I relied on that [Little Sponge] to do the work. This plan... this one was all me.
My despair transmuted into pure, frantic energy. I wasn't just building a hotel. I was building a monument to my own [Self-Sufficiency]. I would become a [BIG SHOT] on my own terms!
My body became a blur of motion. I grabbed a sheet of corrugated metal that was leaning against a wall. A stack of discarded pizza boxes—structural integrity! A cracked piece of plexiglass—a window! I tore a string of dead fairy lights from a bin, confident I could siphon some [Juice] for them. I was a whirlwind of frantic creation, a tiny titan of industry piling junk higher and higher into my tiny arms until I could barely see over it.
With a grunt that was half-maniacal laughter, I turned and bolted, my little legs pumping like pistons, staggering under the tower of my newfound empire. Back to my alley. Back to my dumpster. It was time to build. It was time for the grand opening of the Spamton G. Spamton [SUPER] Hotel. And this time... this time, they would have no choice but to say yes!
Click... BZZZZT. CRRRRASH. The sound. Oh, I still remember that sweet, sweet sound of [[Catastrophic System Failure]]. It was music to my [[Audio Receptors]]. A city-wide lockdown. No ins, no outs. A captive audience. My mind, a frantic rolodex of opportunity, spun faster than a [[Used Car Salesman on a Triple-Espresso]]. They were trapped. Trapped little mice in a digital maze. And what do mice need when the cat's away? A place to stay! A place to pay!
My thoughts raced, a cascade of glorious, garbled data. [[49.97]] A NIGHT! NO, A DEAL! A STEAL! THEY'LL BE BEGGING ME FOR A ROOM! SPAMTON G. SPAMTON'S BRAND NEW, ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME, LUXURY [[Communal Living Space]]!
The work began. A blur of motion. I was a whirlwind of pure, unadulterated [[CAPITALISM]]. I yanked corrugated metal from a pile behind old rusty cars of my junkyard, hammered splintered boards together with the frantic energy of a man possessed. Possessed by the promise of [Kromer]. Shacks, glorious shacks, two rose from the grime in front my dumpster-shop. Each one a testament to my [[Ingenuity]], powered by a ‘borrowed’ extension cord snaking its way from a cafe nearby—they wouldn't miss it, they had plenty!—and soon, a string of mismatched fairy lights blinked and sputtered to life, casting a sickly-sweet glow over my new empire. "SPAMTON'S SUPER SUITE MOTEL," a hastily painted sign in dripping garish red proclaimed. "VACANCY!!!! CHECK-IN AT THE LOBBY!!" The lobby being, of course, my shop.
Hours ticked by. The initial manic high, the glorious buzz of potential profit, began to curdle like [[Expired Milk]]. The city hummed its usual electric tune, but no footsteps echoed down my alley. No desperate Darkners, flush with cash and nowhere to go, came knocking. My padded shoulders, once puffed out with the pride of a true [[BIG SHOT]], began to slump. The grin, that magnificent, painted-on rictus of success, felt heavy on my face, the corners drooping like wilted flowers. It was getting dark. Real dark.
Another one. Another failed [Venture Capital Investment]. Just like with the phone… just like when the calls stopped coming. I was a [BIG SHOT]... wasn't I? I had it all. The penthouse at the mansion. Sales as high as the [[HEAVENS]]. All the fame and respect that those Addisons never hoped to achieve! And then… nothing. Just the silence. This felt like that silence.
My eyes started to fizz. Bzzzt... kssshht. The familiar static of an empty room, an empty promise, clouded my vision. That's what the darkness did. It reminded me of the long, quiet hours after the phone stopped ringing. After the Queen's goons threw me and my phone out the window. After... everything. I was just a little guy in a big, empty dumpster again. A failure. A [[404 Error] Not Found].
My hand twitched, wanting to reach for the old rotary phone sitting on a stool in the corner like a shrine, its cord cut, its purpose dead. A useless relic of a better time. A time when people wanted me.
Then, I heard it.
Footsteps. Scuffing on the grimy pavement. Not the frantic clatter of a panicking populace, but the measured tread of… someone specific.
My head snapped up, the gears in my neck grinding with a painful screee. The static in my eyes flickered, trying to focus. Through the monochrome fuzz, I saw three figures emerge from the gloom, bathed in the garish light of my stolen electricity. As they drew closer, I could see them properly. The big purple tough one, looked around with a scowl and a skeptical quirk of her brow. The fluffy prince himself; Ralsei, looked nervous. And him.
The kid. The [Little Sponge]. Kris.
Every circuit in my body fired at once. A jolt of pure, unadulterated fury shot through me, so hot it almost cleared the static from my vision. I quickly bolted up half a meter into the air and quickly rushed into the door behind me before they could register I've been sulking, the bell above me giving a violent jingle.
THEM, I thought to myself. The one who dangled [HEAVEN] right in front of my face. The one who saw the body, the beautiful NEO body I’d dreamed of, the vessel for my grand return, and said… no. The one who just… ran (after I let out my understandable [[RAGE]]!). Left me there in the dark, choking on my own desperation. Their expression today was, as always, a blank slate under those bangs. Unreadable. It made me want to scream.
But then, another instinct kicked in. Older, deeper. The salesman’s instinct. They were here. They needed something. And when people need something… they have [Kromer].
I threw my [Inventory] onto the counter; a termite-eaten notebook I found, my own plastic pen, and a rusty service bell, they skidded onto my plank-counter. I tripped myself into a pile of boxes in the process as I rushed and tried to skid to a stop behind it. I quickly stood, ram-rod straight with a sound like cracking plastic, pushed my skewed glasses back up my pointy nose, lens shiny. I forced the corners of my mouth back up into their designated grin, the motion stiff and unnatural. [It's Showtime].
The door bell jingled and they rounded in.
"HEY EVERY- !!" I immediately yelled, raising both of my little mannequin arms, my voice box crackled, a little too loud, a little too sharp. The static in my eyes coalesced back into their pastel pink and yellow lens, but looking frenetic. "[[All Alone On A Late Night?]]?? LOOKING FOR A [Room With A View]? A [Five-Star Experience] AT [Three-Star Prices]!? WELL HAVE I GOT A [[Specil Deal]] FOR YOU!!"
I gestured wildly with one hand at my dumpster palace, a sweeping, theatrical motion. "BEHOLD! THE SPAMT-! THE SPAMTON G. SPAMTON SUPER MOTEL! ERECTED BY EV3RY BUDDY'S FAVOURITE [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]] HIMSELF! VACANCY AVAILABLE, BUT NOT FOR LONG! [Supply and Demand], KID! [Supply and Demand]!"
My eyes locked onto Kris, ignoring the other two. The fury was still there, a hot coal behind my big teeth, but I layered it over with my best, most manic sales pitch. Let him see the grin. Let him think I’d forgotten. I hadn’t. I never forget a [Bad Deal].
So, you came crawling back, I thought, the words a venomous whisper under the frantic patter of my speech. You found my ticket to the big time, my [One-Way Ticket To Freedom], and you threw it away. And now you need a place to [Rest your little head]? Oh, this is [Delicious!]. This is [Poetic Justice].
I slapped the counter as they approached it, my other hand supporting my chin, digital eyes lidded behind my glasses as I watch Kris, expectant.
"SO," I said, my voice dropping to a, grating murmur. "I KNEW YOU'D BE BACK. A REAL [Big Shot] LIKE YOU CAN'T RESIST MY [Irresistible Offers]. ONE NIGHT IN A [[Luxury Suite]]... THAT'LL BE 2997 [KROMER]." I paused, letting the absurd number hang in the air, before my grin widened impossibly.
But the tough-looking girl pitched her thoughts first. "Really, Kris? This is your idea of a place to stay?" she looked around the room with distaste. "This place's the same dump you keep insisting on going in alone! And this is the... guy you've been dealin' privately with?"
Guy you've been dealing privately...
A spark ignited in my circuits. A hot, possessive little flicker of... something. So, the [Little Sponge] had been keeping our meetings, our [Business Transactions], a secret. Good. Very good. A smart kid. Knows the value of [Discretion]. At the very least.
Before I could retort with a cutting-edge sales pitch about the [Aesthetic Value of Repurposed Materials], the fluffy prince piped up, all polite and worried, tugging at her shirt as she huffs and try to elbow his paw away. "Oh Susie, please don't be rude. You're gonna get us kicked out of the only place that's finally have vacancy!"
He was right to be worried. I could throw them out. I could! I was a [Proprietor] now! I had standards! Sort of.
"SEE!?" I screeched, pointing a twitching finger at the goat boy. "THE [Cloud-Shaped Boy] RECOGNIZES A [Limited Time Offer] WHEN HE SEES ONE! A TRUE CONNOISSEUR OF [Fine Establishments]!"
And then Kris moved. No hesitation. Just that smooth, quiet decisiveness that always set my circuits on edge. One gloved hand came to rest on the counter, the other dipped into their wallet. For a moment, they were perfectly still. I saw it. Just for a second. The slight, subtle downturn of their lips under those bangs.
Then, the gloved hand emerged. It placed three crumpled, pathetic pile of bills on my counter.
300 [Kromer].
My audio receptors registered Kris’s low voice. "Three, one night..."
Three. Hundred. [Kromer].
BZZZZT. A jolt, like a power surge, went through my frame. The static in my eyes intensified, a snowstorm of pure, unfiltered rage. My smile became a frozen, brittle thing. For a moment, the entire world seemed to flicker and glitch. Three hundred? For THREE people!? That wasn't even enough to cover the [Juice] I was stealing!
A harsh, glitchy laugh burst from my voice box, sounding like a modem dying. "HAEAHAEAHAEAHAEAH!! WOW KID! A REAL [Stand-Up Comedian]! YOU SHOULD TAKE THAT ACT ON THE [Information Superhighway]! BUT MY PRICES AREN'T [A Joke]!"
But before I could truly let loose, the fluffy diplomatic one spoke again, his voice trembling slightly. "Please, sir, we... we don't have much. And you're our only hope!" He wrung his little paws together.
The rage cooled, just slightly, into a simmering pot of predatory opportunism. I let out a sound like a malfunctioning cash register. Ka-ch-ch-ch-ching-CHING!
My gaze snapped away from the insulting pile of money and fixed onto the fluffy [Princeling]. A prince! Of course! My grin morphed, becoming somehow more oily, more… obsequious. I gave a short, jerky bow, my head nearly clanking against the countertop.
"MY APOLOGIES, YOUR [Royal Highness]!" I crooned, my voice dripping with fake reverence. "I DIDN'T REALIZE I WAS IN THE PRESENCE OF [Nobility]! OF COURSE, A [Commoner] LIKE YOUR FRIEND WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND THE COST OF [True Luxury]!" I swept a hand towards my finest shack, the one that only leaned slightly to the left. "FOR A MAN OF YOUR... [Stature]... WE HAVE THE ROYAL SUITE! COMPLETE WITH A TABLE STOOL FOR A NIGHTSTAND [NightlightsNotIncluded]! PERHAPS YOU COULD... COVER THE [Difference] FOR YOUR LESS FORTUNATE COMPANIONS?"
I leaned in closer, my glasses reflecting the nervous sweat on the prince's brow. "A MERE... 4697 [Kromer]! A PITTANCE, A MERE [Pocket Change] FOR A KING-IN-THE-MAKING, YES?"
Ralsei flinched from the proximity, his big, eyes wide with panic behind those nerdy glasses. "Erm, isn't it supposed to be 2697... k-kromer?" he raised one shaky finger up to make his point. My face was unchanging.
After some moments of awkwardness, he fumbled at his robe, patting it down desperately. "Um! Well, you see... as a prince... my riches are more... um... in the friendships we make?" He gave a weak, apologetic smile, his paws coming up empty. "I don't... actually carry any currency."
My entire system short-circuited. KSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHT. The static in my eyes became a blizzard, almost whiting out my vision. The smile on my face twitched violently. A broke prince. A broke [Little Sponge]. A broke... everything. I was trying to sell [Water in the Ocean] and everyone had died of thirst.
Then, just as quickly as it came, the manic rage subsided. It didn't disappear, but it sank back down, replaced by something else. A cold, calculating opportunism. Kicking them out would be satisfying, yes. But it wouldn't get me anything. 300 [Kromer] was nothing... but it was more than zero. And more importantly... I had leverage. They needed me. For the first time, they needed me. Someone needed me.
I stood there for a long, silent moment, the only sound the hum of the stolen power and the fizzing behind my lenses. Rejected again. By the rich, by the poor, by the ones who held the keys to my dreams. Fine. FINE. [A Deal is a Deal], even a TERRIBLE one. And they were my only deal.
With a motion so fast it was a white blur, my hand shot out and snatched the crinkled bank notes from the counter. I stuffed it into my suit jacket before anyone could blink.
"FINE!" I snapped, the salesman's mask cracking to show the raw frustration underneath. "SINCE I AM A [Generous God], I WILL MAKE A [One Time Offer]! A [CHARITY CASE]!" While I was stuffing the banknotes deep into my pocket, I fished back out and placed a paperclip forcibly onto the counter, pinning it with a finger. "YOUR KEY. FOR ONE ROOM. DO NOT WAKE ME UP UNLESS THE PLACE [Goes Up In Flames]... and [No Refunds]!"
The feel of the paperclip in the kid's gloved hand was a tiny, insignificant victory, but a victory nonetheless. He frowned from my words. GOOD. Let him frown. A [Dissatisfied Customer] is just a customer who hasn't been [Upsold] yet. He then took a pen and signed on the first blank page of the rough-looking notebook. On the first line; 'Kris & Susie & Ralsei - 11:40 PM.' in messy handwriting as I folded my tiny arms, a judgmental gesture.
I turned to the purple one. During my pitching to the broke [Princeling], had already flopped nonchalantly. Both clawed hands behind her head, laying her back onto my prize sofa—a stained, lumpy thing I’d dragged from behind the cafe. The [Audacity]! She treated my fine establishment like a common... well, like a common dump.
With her eyes closed, she yawned wide, her open maw showing (only somewhat!) menacing sharp rows of teeth, and sighed. "Welp. Better than sleeping under a bridge, I suppose."
A certified [Positive Review]! I’d have to get her to write that on the [Customer Feedback] form. But before I get to do that, she already got up, and with a lazy swing, shut my lobby door, the rusty bell giving a jingle.
The fluffy prince, however, looked like I’d just handed him the [Keys to the Kingdom]. He bowed so many times I thought his head might fall off, his fluffy ears bouncing. "Thank you, thank you so much for your generosity, Mr. Spamton, sir!"
Mr. Spamton. The words echoed in my processor. It had been a long time since anyone used a [Title of Respect]. It felt… strange. Like an ill-fitting suit. I just grunted, waving a dismissive hand. "YES, YES, MY [Charity] IS UNMATCHED! NOW SCRAM BEFORE I START CHARGING FOR [Loitering]!" Every fiber of my being was already screaming about the [Net Loss] I was taking on this deal.
I followed them to the doorway of my shop, leaning against the frame with my short arms crossed over my chest. The proprietor, surveying his estate. My estate. The flickering fairy lights cast long, dancing shadows as the three of them—the kid, the brute, the prince—made their way to the first shack. The one with the better, less glitched fairy lights.
I watched Kris fiddle with the door. They tried to fit the paperclip into the makeshift lock I’d rigged up. They were struggling. Heh. Pathetic. Can’t even handle a simple [High-Security, Proprietary Security System].
Then I heard Susie’s voice, sharp with impatience. "Ugh, move over, lame-o." There was a splintering CRACK that echoed through the alley. The sound shot through my wiring like a jolt of bad electricity.
My entire body tensed. My creation! My beautiful, handcrafted door! Violated!
"HEY EVERY- !!" I shrieked from the doorway, my voice glitching with rage, raising both of my arms up. "HEY-HE Y HEY!!! HEY YOU [Vandals]!! THAT'S A [Security Deposit] VIOLATION! YOU BREAK IT, YOU [Buy It Now]! THAT'S COMING OUT OF YOUR-! ... YOUR... NONEXISTENT [KROMER]!!"
They ignored me, disappearing inside. The injustice of it all! The absolute lack of respect for [Private Property]! I seethed in the doorway for a moment longer, a low static hum emanating from my chest, before turning and retreating back into the gloom of my shop. Let them freeze in their broken hovel. Served them right!
I let out a long, slow sigh that sounded like air leaking from a tire. The show was over. I shuffled over to the painted blue sky brick-wall backdrop. It was the veil between my work and my... rest. I slipped behind it, disappearing from the public eye. Back here it was darker, quieter. Just me, my broken things, and the humming silence of the old rotary phone.
The inside of the shack was… small. It smelled of damp particle board and the faint, hot-dust smell of the single, bare lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. The empty mattress on the floor already took a big chunk of the space. For one person, it would be cozy. For two, tight. For three, it was impossible.
"This blows," Susie announced, kicking at a loose floorboard. "I'm NOT sleeping standing up."
Ralsei, ever the diplomat, had already placed his bag on a rickety wooden chair that looked like it would collapse if he added his hat. "Susie, where are you going?" he asked as he watched her making her way out, his voice laced with concern.
"That glitchy weirdo had another one of these crappy boxes out there, isn't there?" she said, jerking a thumb towards the door she'd just broken. "I'm claiming it. Dibs."
I held out the mangled paperclip. The ‘key’.
Susie just smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Nah. Don't need it." And with that, she was gone, leaving me and Ralsei in the sudden, quiet intimacy of the tiny room.
An awkward silence fell between us, filled only by the low hum of the city and the spluttering of cheap fairy lights. There was another splintering crash from a few feet away, followed by the screech of metal. So much for the second door.
"I can… I can sleep on my bag, Kris," Ralsei offered, his voice soft. "It's really no trouble. You and Susie are saving the world, you should have a proper bed. I’ll be fine, really!" He gestured to the sad-looking mattress on the floor, which was lumpy and stained but was, technically, a bed.
I looked at the single mattress, then at Ralsei. His offer was genuine, as always. But he looked tired, and he deserved to rest comfortably as much as anyone. I shook my head.
"Stay here," I said, my voice quiet. "I will find somewhere to sleep."
Before he could protest, I slipped back out of the shack. The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy interior. The fairy lights behind me flickered, casting their strange, colorful glow on the damp ground. My eyes traced from the second, lit shack before me, Susie’s, to the door of the dumpster-lobby. To the side, in the distance, the lobby’s light light inside was still on. As I watched, I saw his small, dark silhouette move past the window. He disappeared behind the back wall of the dumpster, the one painted with a peeling blue sky and white clouds. His own room, I guessed. His real home.
The angry yelling, the glitching voice, the desperate sales pitch... it was all gone. Behind the curtain, the actor had left the stage.
The fairy lights on the ‘lobby’ blinked on and off, casting a lonely, rhythmic glow. The sofa Susie had been on—that pile of trash—looked surprisingly comfortable. Better than the alley floor or the multiple rusty cars around his shop, anyway. And closer. For some reason, I felt it was better to be closer. I considered it, my hand still loosely holding the busted paperclip. I could just sleep there. In his lobby. In his home.