Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lineart by Sal, Coloring by Mink

He was at first, deathly cold. 

The frost seeped into his metal joints. Being left out in the snow, severely damaged, was certainly not good for his internal systems. His exposed and stiff wires where his arms… used to be… were damp and had sparked dangerously. Any technician worth a damn would grimace.

Tenna’s cooling fans had slowed to a lazy crawl and his screen had powered off… his chest speaker crackling one final whimper, a small cry for help. It was swallowed by the wintery air.

What had even… happened? 

In one moment he was making up for his mistakes— clinging to the hope of fulfilling his promise to Susie. In the next… searing pain. Static in his mind. Noise. Snow. 

Cold. Darkness. 

The feeling in his arms disappeared as they were slashed, and fell in what felt like slow motion into… nothingness. Gone, as though they had never been part of him at all.

The CRT’s consciousness had flickered in and out, he could hardly make sense of all that was going on… he felt as if he was dreaming. No, dream was perhaps too gentle of a word for this…. he was lost in an unidentifiable space, a nothingness quite similar to when he was unplugged.

Tenna stood, or he hovered, in that space. Darker than dark, it surrounded him. How long? Who knows. Hours. Years.

Someone was there. Who…? A presence, indistinct, small. Barely an outline. Before he could begin to form a thought to speak to them, they walked away. He was being left alone.

Again.

…was that a phone ringing?

Tenna awoke into the brightness, sharply. His body jolted, a large metallic WHUMP sounding out, the vibration of his degaussing coil. He gasped the air that he did not need to breathe as his fans started to roar in motion. 

Where was he? When was he? Is— Kris! Toriel! Susie…?

His vision blurred with static. Tenna scrambled to focus on something. His motors grinded with effort as he sat up, slowly. His arms… they were… back? Stiff, but there. He propped himself up with his gloved left hand and started to peer at his surroundings.
Shapes started to resolve themselves. A large, brightly lit, empty room, minus the bed he was sitting atop of. It resembled his studio in a way, the tile was familiar and the atmosphere was comforting. But… he was all by his lonesome.

“H-” The CRT’s speakers stuttered a bit with disuse. Tenna grimaced, and lightly clunked a fist against his chest to resolve it. 
“Hello…?” His voice was not as loud as he wished it to be. It was small in the large empty room. It did not carry far.

Left to rust, again? Even when they promised to—

The doors opening with a jingle sent a startled current through his body, and Tenna sprung to his feet. His screen flickered. 

Oh… standing up that fast was a
He wobbled as he found his balance, his legs nearly locking up and groaning in protest. Someone was approaching. Someone…

“K-Kris!” Tenna’s mouth dropped open in surprise. The Lightner had stepped into the room and was scanning it with their typical blank expression. As per usual it was rather hard to read any deep, internal thoughts behind obscured eyes. But if he could read them, one might've been able to pick up on the slight relief on the human’s face. 

Kris has been.... absent, throughout the rescue mission. But they'd known he was alive. Frankly, Kris had struggled to process how they felt about that. The almost-dying part. Maybe they'd felt indifferent. Or maybe.. no. Maybe it'd been the equivalent of a firm thumbs up, and a "get better soon" card picked up last minute. Good to see you're not cleaved and dead. After all, they'd gotten this far without getting anyone killed. May as well try to keep that record up.

However, standing in front of the TV provided a little bit of a different perspective. In a way, Kris found they were a bit more… relieved to see him up and about. A little. It was hard to truly feel concerned when they had never seen the true scope of the damage. Other than y'know, the whole "arms getting chopped off" thing. ‘Tis a mere flesh wound, or whatever.

From the bed, Tenna scrambled to regain his composure in such a moment of vulnerability, being caught so off guard. He had no idea how long it had truly been since he had… nearly died.

“Hey, s-superstar!” Tenna reflexively adjusted his tie, a wobbly smile making its way to his screen. “Care to, uh… fill me in on where I am? And what’s… going on?”

He returned to old habits when they were easy.

“These are practice questions, no points off for incorrect answers!”
Tenna snapped his finger in one of his trademark grand gestures. It was sincere, but his systems were not really in it.

But… if Kris was here, they could have arrived to tell him he was truly going to be thrown out. He was damaged now, that was undeniable. He could feel that. Parts were stiff, creaky, and almost sore. His left antenna stung a little as he moved it.

Tenna could barely gain his bearings in this situation. He entered fight or flight. He hoped Kris could sense his silent plea.

Thankfully, it seemed Kris was not here to provide any sort of bad news. There was no urgency in their actions, standing rather calmly from their place beside the bed. Usually others were left to do the talking. But with Kris on their own, it seemed they had no choice but to lay down the law. So, Kris spoke.

* You tell Tenna he's been brought to your Castle Town. 

* You let him know it’s his temporary home until you and Susie can find someone to take him in.

Tenna nodded knowingly. Castle Town… that was right. The dark world that Prince Ralsei took earnest charge of, the place where everyone could have a home, if needed.

Tenna glanced around that bare and empty room of his. Just the bed, and nothing else. No glow of studio lights. No vanity. No dressing rooms. Well…! He could always… decorate! Busy himself with sprucing the place up! Add posters! Add life! He hummed and tapped his foot.
But Kris had said that it was temporary. Would it be a waste of time to…?

“You and Susie are really, honestly, going to find someone to adopt me?” Tenna’s wobbly voice betrayed how nervous he was about the whole ordeal. He clasped his gloved hands together. Susie promised quite sincerely that there would be someone out there, but… how long would it take…? How many months would he be here with no one to love him…?

Kris remained silent. However, they were gracious enough to provide Tenna with a little nod in response. 

The idea of giving Tenna away was bittersweet. Kris knew he'd continue to go disused if he stayed at home. At least until Mom threw him away. It wasn't like either her or Kris would just start watching TV again for his sake alone. She wasn't even aware her TV was going stir crazy in the first place.

The bittersweetness came from giving away something that'd been in their home all their life. Kris had spent countless hours stretching across theirs and Azzy’s childhood with Tenna. It was a staple of those old memories. And giving him away to someone else, that'd be like finally admitting it was all over. Those days were long gone, and they weren't coming back. Things wouldn't go back to how they were.

Even still, it was for the best. For Tenna. Besides. A promise is a promise. Even if Kris hadn't exactly agreed to Susie’s idea at the time.

Where was the purple girl, anyway? 
It seemed at the same time, both the Lightner and the Darkner came to ask themselves the this question. With Tenna, it was a bit more nervewracking. She should be with Kris. He had hardly seen them apart. Kris by themself made him nervous, they were too quiet. Made him want to start babbling about old times, about Toriel and Asriel and the Holiday family visits, and…

The TV’s fingers twitched and clicked to adjust his tie again, uselessly.

“Thank you for the hospitality, in the meantime…!” He continued with his booming and practiced showman voice, smiling broadly at Kris. “I only hope I won’t be here very long… waiting… for anyone who will want me…”

Tenna shrank, facade wavering, antennae turning downwards. The dreadful idea of it— never having anyone want to watch him ever again washed over his mind. It was a nightmare. More of one than his very narrowly avoided demise. The silence, the isolation. The lack of purpose. The lack of love.
The CRT clapped his hands, loudly.

“ANYWAY! Where is Susie?”

And lo, a beast was among them.

While Susie understood the basics of physical recovery, she had yet to really grasp the emotional and psychological impacts. She observed the interaction with great interest, looming in the doorway. An impenetrable barrier, a wall of scale and sinew, Susie remained in the hallway. Hunched, facing the room and letting her eyes languidly glide over the familiarity of it. She’d been here before, watched as melted wire and twisted metal married under verdant sparkles and twinkles. A starlit night, beautiful and quiet. Is what she would’ve thought if this room was darker.

Yellow eyes glinted like golden-tinged coins from the doorway, her purple muzzle soon inviting itself into the room. Like a cautious animal, Susie watched the interaction and weighed Tenna’s behavior on an invisible scale. She remained hopeful that nothing had changed. That the disk containing his energetic self hadn’t been broken down. Luckily for her, he acted the same. Sounded the same. He was rattled, yes, but who wouldn’t be? He was clearly adjusting, shifting, fidgeting as he got accustomed to his new surroundings.

She hoped he liked it. The temporary home, she meant. Yes, it was barren. A little empty. Definitely needed some sprucing up, a good dusting maybe. But it was better this way, at least until he had a new home somewhere.

She was hastily snapped out of her thoughts, yanked out of her mind by the loud noise of two gloved hands colliding together. Susie practically sprang to life, reintroducing herself to the scene by leaning on the doorway and crossing her arms. A playful smirk babel-cheese-waxed her face apart, once again exposing her teeth. “Hey. What’s up?” The beastly growl of a voice echoed from the doorway, the light conveniently allowing for more of her body to be exposed now that the scene called for her. Additionally, it seemed to serve as a curtain to obscure the additional Darkner that had been trailing along.

Ralsei had essentially been blocked from entering. Not that it bothered him, really. Pushing past Susie’s form was difficult, and he really wasn’t the sort to shove his way through. Even if it meant he had to skip out on the endearing reunion. Even if it meant he couldn’t perfectly gauge how Tenna’s recovery was coming along. He stayed back where he belonged, inhaling gently and keeping his ears strained for any unusual noise. So far so good. The patient was holding up decently well… woo-hoo!

With Susie having moved aside just enough for him to squeeze past, the Prince of Darkness saw an opportunity. He wedged himself between her hulking figure and the doorframe, producing the softest and fuzziest pop imaginable as he burst into the room. 

Oh! Oh my! What beautiful timing! It was an entrance that seemed scripted, which of course— Tenna relished in. Susie smiled sharply from the doorway and Ralsei slipped inside the room as well. He was overjoyed to see them both. His screen lit up with warmth.

“Ah!” He perked his antennae up in glee. “Susie, Ralsei!” Tenna grinned at them both, smiling wide enough to cover his entire aspect ratio. 

Ralsei’s gaze remained doting and hopeful as he observed the looming shape of TVtastic Tenna. Horizontal pupils studied the possible problem spots from a distance, hands adjusting behind his back. “Er… how are you feeling? Joints feeling alright?” The questions came without any hesitation. He barely allowed for a moment of silence after Susie and Tenna greeted themselves. 

Ralsei’s gentle question of concern was very appreciated, of course. The TV stepped closer to the pair and bowed his ‘head’ in a theatrical greeting.

“I am feeling…!” He paused, considering, tapping his screen with one finger. He didn’t really know how he felt, honestly. “Disoriented!” Tenna concluded. “But not in pain.”

It was all thanks to Susie, wasn’t it? 
Somehow he knew, through his hazy state of consciousness after his injuries, that she was the one who came back for him. Tenna thought he remembered her calling, rallying the others for help. His crew. His… loyal employees. Who he should probably apologize to for being so overdramatic.

The CRT cleared the static from his throat. He will deal with that awkward situation later. For NOW…

“My Grand Comeback,” The large Darkner spun closer to his favorite monster girl, “ is all due to…” He thrust an arm forward and snapped his finger in her direction. A small crowd cheering sound played from his speaker. “YOU! ”

Her story had reached his very core. It plucked at his… wires. And she cared enough to give him this second chance. Tenna could see, very clearly, that Susie was an excellent friend to have. She was worth more than any prize or points he would ever offer. He honestly was honored to know her!
He squatted down, propping his hands on his knees, in front of the young monster girl. Smiling warmly, Tenna leaned forward to look right at her with sincerity.

“Thank you. I mean it. You have the grand prize in my heart.” If he had an actual heart, that is. Whatever man! Tenna opened his arms for a hug, inviting her. 

An air of reluctant caution clung to Susie. Like oil. Like sickness. While she claimed to have no doubt in her mind that this was the same Tenna she parted with the last time she saw him alive, there remained that unpleasantly unwelcome itch. A tiny little pearl of hesitation that nestled in her hair, trickled down the side of her face, and cradled the hole that was her ear. But watching him spin and pirouette his way towards her made that casual smile of hers remain plastered over her face. 

It was hard not to be happy to see him. His energy was infectious, contagious in all the best ways possible. His motions alone - fantastical and grand - were enough to keep the great mood alive. Susie remained the supposed impenetrable barrier of coolness, leaning on the door and simply observing Tenna’s antics. Yet for a singular moment, there was motion behind her. The slightest rustling of cloth, perhaps.

Is that… a tail wag, possibly?
Nah. She’s too cool for that. But maybe. Retaining her casual demeanor, Susie propped herself up and pulled away from the doorframe. “It was nothing. Really!” She mustered up, once again running a pinkie talon over the corner of her mouth to get that pesky hair out. Pleg. Ptooey. Hair in my mouf.

Susie might be the beacon of aura farming in the moment, but she wouldn’t refuse a hug. In one swift motion, the monster girl fell forward and latched on to the much taller television-man, giving a firm squeeze. Her embrace was much like a muscular boa had wrapped around Tenna and refused to let go. 

Susie really was the coolest Lightner ever. No offense Kris— He’s picking favorites. When she returned his offer for an embrace he went straight to Cloud Nine. Cloud Ten. Cloud One Hundred. When was the last time he was hugged? One billion years ago. Who knows. It was probably insincere, too. Tenna knew he ran warm and he hoped it was a comfort to the girl, the soft hum of his machinery. His screen brightened in delight, casting a glow on her. His stiff joints felt more alive. Susie had a tight grip, too. Solid. Held onto him like he was gonna disappear. Which… he almost did. The CRT swallowed back the memory of the snow piling around him, burying him in a cold grave.

No wonder Tenna’s picking favorites - it was hard not to love her. It was hard for her not to enjoy the warmth provided by Tenna’s hands. How he cradled her so gently, how meticulously his arms seemed to wrap around her. The warmth emanating from him in droves reminded her of basking in the sun, of a delicious breakfast, of a mother fussing over her child. It was, in a figurative and very literal sense, heartwarming. He didn’t even flinch at the crushing grip Susie had on him. She’s probably bending metal from how hard she’s gripping on to him.

But alas. The embrace couldn’t last forever. Tenna relished in the long hug, letting it linger like the Cranberries, but it was about time to cut it short. Tenna peeled the monster girl off of him reluctantly with a gentle smile.

While she had failed to get the hint initially, (given she had to be pried off,) she resumed typical cool aura farming techniques without a hitch, still smiling from ear to ear. Practically ripping her own face in two with how much gum exposure she was doing. Endearing, in a violent I’ll-eat-your-face way. Dentists HAAAATE her.

“Soooo…” Tenna started, standing upright again while he smoothed out his attire with the fussiness of a man who’d done it on stage a thousand times. “You’ll find someone to take me in…?” His unsure tone yet again betrayed how nervous he was that they would be unsuccessful in their search. “Susie…? Kris…?” The TV glanced back and forth between them, his antennae twitching. 

“Well Duh! I’m sure there’s someone out there just ITCHING for a television as awesome as you.” She chirped enthusiastically, slipping her cuffed hands into her pockets. Tenna waved her off, bashful at the compliment but also bathing in it like it was liquid gold. The tiniest flower bloomed from the tip of his nose.

Kris had not moved from their earlier standing position, keeping their distance. And yet, they gave another nod. This one, more solid than the first. More confident. He really was astonished by how much they had grown, he couldn’t help but marvel a little. He missed those cute little red horns, though.

Although… Speaking of tinted horns…
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tenna directed towards Ralsei with another bow. If all hope did indeed end up lost for him to find a suitable owner, he imagined he could be quite comfortable here. “We can… spruce up the room a bit, yes? Give it some ? Let’s be honest, folks. It’s not exactly MTV Cribs material yet!” Audible Laugh Track.

Tenna took to gazing around the space and imagining it full of life— A party with lots of guests drinking acid and wine in crystal glasses, chattering and buzzing about the latest show or newest trend, maybe even some new darkners…! Someone who could… finally teach him what an e-mail is! After all this time…!

These thoughts made him restless— he wanted to meet everyone. Cooped up in an empty room with just the heroes would get stuffy real quick! As much as Tenna does adore the little fellas.
The CRT beamed down at Susie, Ralsei, then Kris. In that order. “If I’m going to be bunking here for a while… would you all mind giving me the ”

”Well, er… if you’re feeling better, I don’t see why not.” A gentle bleat of a voice trickled through the conversation. “Kris will be happy to lead the way and help you get acquainted with everyone else.”

A grand tour was more than easy to give, especially given the town's size. And Tenna's size. He could make great time with those huge legs of his. Or he could just slide his way around. Whatever works, man.
With a swift turn Kris brought their focus back to the door, and marched their way back out. As feet crossed the threshold back into the hallway, the second half of the TV Time jingle played out. The goat gestured to the fastly fading figure of their friend, offering yet another warm smile and a slight shuffle to the side knowing full well what was going to happen next.

“HELL YEAH!” The plum beast roared, both arms instantly shooting upwards. Susie was quick to sprint after Kris, waving her arms for a second and making wild gestures for Tenna to follow. “You GOTTA see this place!”

Kris had taken point and led the way. Tenna was happy to follow after Susie’s brisk pace. He ducked his head through the doorway  into the dark hall and kept up quite easily due to the length of his stride.

Before they did make their way out, however, he was curious who his neighbor was. The Lightners seemed ready to introduce him, but none were needed! He was pleasantly surprised to find out it was Queen’s room— a Darkner he had not seen in years but was always a joy to have around. She was both confusing, funny, and understood well what it was to be the head-honcho of a dark world. He recalled that she ruled her domain in a way that commanded respect from her people.

Though, she still called him ‘Tony’. He had no idea why. He filed away the idea of talking to her later. Would be lovely to catch up.

The little group took to exiting the castle, first. The cool blues and inky blacks of the surroundings were quite different from what he was used to, but Tenna reminded himself he might have yet another new home soon enough and he should learn to adapt to new environments. Best to embrace the change.

Some of his employees were lingering around the area, along with… various Darkners he had never seen in his life. And… some from Cyber City. Right. If Queen was here, then… of course— the Laptop had been brought to Castle Town. Nothing wrong with that. It didn’t make him nervous. It totally didn’t bring up so many bad memories that filled him with rage and heartbreak. Of course not.

Tenna focused on examining his surroundings instead, clenching his fists.
There was a music shop on one side, a bakery, a cafe… what a good spot for mingling! Is that a mini version of his studio…? How delightful! The TV’s antennae sparked with joy. He gazed down at his companions who stood around him in a little circle while he took it all in.

”What a great line-up you’ve got here!” Tenna said directly to Ralsei.

Upon hearing the direct compliment, the prince of darkness looked aside and shyly smiled. Salmon dusted his cheeks as he soaked in the direct praise, chuckling gently to himself. "Part of it's thanks to Kris, they do all of the recruiting...!"

Upon hearing (and seeing) Ralsei downplay himself, Susie raised a fist and...

Smacked him on the back. The force was enough to make Ralsei fall over and splat against the ground face-first, an endearing splort playing as his fuzzy mug touched down on the ground. The elicited a small moment of silence from Susie, a warm softness brewing in her belly. It snaked its way past her lungs, swelling like a hot balloon before bursting free in a single, oddly kind-spirited guffaw. 

"Don't doubt yourself so hard, man!" She added, helping the poor goat. "You keep the whole place running." She added on, adjusting the glasses that had slipped from their place on Ralsei's face. Her motions were tender, knowing. Like she was handling delicate china that would shatter if she were to hold it in her callused talons for more than a second. 

Ralsei didn't verbally respond, dusting off his scarf tenderly and nodding ever so slightly. He understood. And he appreciated the.. alarmingly kind words coming from Susie's dagger-filled mouth.

 “So many choices.” Tenna commented in awe. The center of town was lively, bustling. It felt like a great place to live. ”Well… I’m up for ANYTHING here! And it’s so hard to pick! So… Kris? What says you?” It seemed like what they said or did was usually the default. That was okay. He trusted their judgement.

Thus began a loop around the core buildings in town. A peek into the bakery here, a stop at the music shop there. The cafe was rather crowded already when they stepped inside. Not too surprisingly, the shadowguys were thoroughly enjoying the new stage setup, and had already begun a little show. 

And of course, it'd be criminal to not let Tenna check out the new tv studio. Even if there wasn't all too much to see quite yet. Lot of stuff still in boxes, you see. The place was brand new as it was. But hey, at least they knew where to get some stuff to fill Mr. Antony's room now. 

What a charming little community they had built here. Tenna could possibly see himself lodging here for a while… if needed…

He was still nervous that he wouldn't be adopted, but it was alright. Put it out of your mind, Tenna! Focus on enjoying yourself! Your friends… true friends… were here. They were not employees forced to smile at his jokes, not underlings with quotas to meet, but real, genuine people who had chosen to be in his company. He hadn’t had a friend like that since…

He shook the thought. 
More important matters were in front of him. Watching Susie and Ralsei’s friendly and tender banter put him in such a good mood! They were both such silly little creatures that he adored. It warmed his metaphorical heart. Nothing would ruin this, Tenna was sure.

When the main area was thoroughly investigated, Kris found themself leading the group down the east corridor. Back in the Cafe there'd been mumblings Kris caught about the Addisons setting up some simple stands out in the training room area. Lo and behold, the rumors were true. Currently only two were around, one pink and one blue. Chatting away amongst themselves in their little corner.

Work was.... certainly different these days. 

A lot had changed in the last few days. First the internet goes out and Queen goes full "tyrannical ruler" mode, next a group of Lightners show up to seal the fountain, the whole thing with....him... And now they were here. From the overwhelming streets of Cyber City, to the humble sidewalks of Castle Town. 

It was certainly much quieter here. There was no more of the hum-drum and the droning they'd gotten so accustomed to. No more noise to occupy his mind. No more shoe store, lovingly tended to and built up for most of his livelihood. It was alarming having to change and adjust. Having to evolve was pretty strenuous, especially after all the things that occurred. Really, the only thing that stayed consistent were the faces that lingered in his life. The people, the individuals. They were the iron and the heat smoothing the creases and the bumps in the stressful transition between the city and the town.

And honestly? Linkly wouldn't have it any other way. He, strangely enough, kind of began to like it. The blue Addison liked the newfound sense of peace, although there were frequent bouts of homesickness. Yes, he missed the noise. Yes, he missed his store. He missed the shelves, the back room, the smell of fresh leather, and the familiar roof and walls that had cradled him since he'd entered the workforce. It was hard not to. But Linkly Junior considered himself lucky, being amongst the many that successfully migrated and integrated amongst the residents that lived here already. Junior was luckier; he already had a lovely support system from the get-go.

A support system he was currently interacting with.

Now, did Clickster miss home? A bit. Who wouldn't? But, there were certainly perks to the new home. Sales had never been higher! Especially since everyone just bought off each other all day. 

Just... don't ask about actual profits.

Alas, most of the other Addisons had gone elsewhere for the time being. The pink one had heard rumors of a plan to subtlety advertise their little farmers market by talking about the setup in populated areas. Why wasn't Click out doing the same? Well, first of all, advertising doesn't do much if you show up and there's no one to sell from. Second, being in Castle Town meant he had less opportunities to have private conversations with a certain someone. No, not a lover. Rather, a friend. A true and blue (literally) friend. On a level that went deeper than surface level niceties, a true rarity amongst Addisons.  Someone he actually trusted. Someone he knew he could rely on time and time again. Linkly was one of those extraordinary Addisons, the kind that was actually worthwhile striking a friendship up with. One of the few he could actually sit down and have a proper discussion with. 

Now, what would even cause such a friendship amongst such a shallow species? Funnily enough, harboring a dark secret no one else knows can really help bring two people together. 

As the tour slowed, it seemed they were running out of locations already. Kris had led them off the beaten path, to a side area of the town, where less Darkners were hanging about. He raised a nonexistent brow at Kris for their choice of directing… his antennae twitched skeptically. This was a lull in the action! It would not keep the audience engaged…! It wouldn’t— Ah.

Those were… Addisons.

Had he met the fated salesmen in person before? No. But Tenna had heard plenty. The rumors were quite unkind, painting a picture of one-dimensional and disloyal conmen. Of course, that was all just hearsay!

From one particular, loud, opinionated mouth. 

He could give them a chance. Turn over a new leaf. Show some kindness, Tenna! Show them the magnanimous grace that Susie and Kris had! These were also his new neighbors, of course.

The tea in his hand had been brewed only a minute or two prior. Clickster was mid-sip when the huge figure came into view. Out of pure shock he found himself sputtering and coughing on his drink.

Linkly had found himself turned back-first to those approaching. He was absolutely none the wiser, unaware of the looming beast that had approached. At least until Click spit out his drink, all over. "Wh- Click?" A joking tone was laced into every vowel, woven into every syllable. He never got to finish, following Clickster's gaze and pivoting around until it settled on none other than….

Holy shit. That's Mr. (Ant) Tenna.

Link froze.

That's Mr. (Ant) Tenna.

The real one.

That's him. The real Mr. (Ant) Tenna.

"Hoolly..." He looked just about ready to faint. For a moment, his glow flickered, faded, stuttered. Much like his words. "Oh my goodness- oh- oh my god, it's really you! What uhm- what brings you here?" He forced a small grin, his glow hastily returning with a vengeance.

While Linkly had done the introduction,  Click had been frantically attempting to recompose himself before the group could come any closer. Wiping his mouth, the pink Addison swallowed, set the drink down, and pulled out his salesman smile. 

"Mr. Ant Tenna!!" Clickster greeted with a warm exclamation, outstretching both arms before him for a moment. Like he was beholding the sight of the Darkner before him. 

"Wow, I must say it's an honor! And here I thought this was an obscure place to set up shop!"

They certainly were elated to see him— Called it an honor. Well, yes, of course! He was BIG! He was ! He left an impression even on those he had never met.

“Ah! Hello there!” He strode over to the makeshift shop. It was quaint. Tenna clasped his hands in front of him. ”Well, gentlemen…” he began, looking between the two ads, who were staring up at him with hope in their expressions. They were pink and blue. Tenna noticed a subtle glow to their ‘skin’, and wondered briefly why it did that. The TV adjusted his tie once more. “I’m getting a very thorough tour of the place, you see!” He gestured to Kris with a dramatic flourish like he was revealing them as a prize. “Kris’ guidance.”

“I am glad to know my program has reached you! I hope you’ve been entertained.” If they actually watched. They may have heard of him in the same way he knew of them. Reputation. Rumors.

Nervewracking. God was he huge. Waayy taller than expected. Of course Click knew he was a big guy. He had remarked on the fact once or twice in that brief period where everyone was still on speaking terms. But, jeez. Seeing the real deal in person was... a bit different, y'know? Click had to actually crane his neck up to get a full look at the guy. 

The pink Addison swallowed. Relax, big guy. Treat him just like any other customer.

Wait. No, don't do that. Regular customers get the bare minimum. This was a Big Shot we were talking about here. Someone properly in the industry. Treat him like a famous person? Uhm. Man this is rough. 

The other Addisons were going to be sooo fucking pissed they missed THE Mr. (Ant) Tenna, dude.

And the questions came rolling in, one by one. Now Click COULD admit, he'd seen a little bit of TV Time. A little. One of those shows you'd see playing in the display tvs in store windows. And Clickster was certainly familiar with those. So when Tenna was glad they'd seen his show, Click didn't have to pull a boldface lie.

"Oh of course!" The salesman exclaimed, his face held in a smile reserved usually for higher-paying customers, or 'celebrity customers.' Of course, this was a rarity for someone like a humble tea vendor.

Linkly couldn’t help but actually admire the refined appearance of the looming television. His gaze started at the apex, noting the antennae that seemed to twitch with life. He was unable to stop himself from wondering if those could be classified as Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s eyes, seated on eyestalks and gazing down at the world below him. He was like an immovable mountain of servos and fans, whirring with every slight move.

Linkly’s stare had begun to snake its way down, eyeing the vivid tones of red and yellow as they clashed and danced sloppily in the light, noticing the cloth and the peculiar way it was rendered. What an oddity. What a peculiar shape, what an unusual form. Tenna stuck out like a sore thumb, but Junior assumed that was part of what made him such a sensation. He was exotic, candy for the average viewer to gawk at. He was visually striking, and had the personality perfect for such an appearance. Link’s mind seemed elsewhere as he continued to study the beast’s appearance, almost completely ignoring the conversation. Soaking in the fact he was standing here, in front of The Mr. (Ant) Tenna.

Uuuuntil his eyes found themselves stuck on his shoes. Vivid yellow matched his tie. But good God. What the fuck are they? Loafers? They looked like spray-on shoes, the kind he’d seen mockeries made of on the internet. Something about a Flintstone. Or a Flint Lockwood. It was astonishing just how ugly those shits were. And Junior’s gaze betrayed that inside thought, the corner of his lip tightening.

These Addisons were… really giving him the once over. His screen buzzed as he noticed it. Stop undressing me with your eyes!

The CRT stared hard at their stand. “And… What are you selling?” Not that he actually cared. If the ads weren’t part of his broadcast, he had no interest. But… he could always use some catching up on the latest products… good for business! Good for ratings!

Another question hovered just behind his static-y mouth, crawling and burrowing and desperately wanting to be asked. Perhaps… he’d better ease into this. Butter them up.

”Where are my manners?” Tenna purred smoothly at them, brightening his screen. “You fellows… did you all make it over here from your world?” Real subtle. He cocked his head. The TV then cleared his throat and hoped that was not an obvious question. “Please, introduce yourselves to the audience!”

He clocked it. 

Click found himself hesitating. The words uselessly collect in his throat, jamming themselves up in a ten-car pileup. 

He knew what the question really was. Why would Mr. Tenna of all people care if a bunch of random salesmen from another dark world made it over safely? No, it was more so a question of where one specific Addison was.

But it was just... such a different question to address. To answer at all. Would it be awkward to immediately jump to the topic they both knew was at hand? But what if that slim chance Tenna wasn't interested in his whereabouts came to be the case? 

The pileup was simply too large to crawl over. So Click crossed over the barrier, and went through the other tunnel instead.

"Ah! Well, my name is Clickster, I'm a tea vendor. And my friend here is Linkly Junior." Click swept a hand over to gesture at blueboy over there. "Shoemaker. And in my opinion, the only one in this place who won't sell you a pair made outta junk." 

He gave a little wink. Again, another perk of everyone else being off running amuck. 

While Clickster masterfully herded the topic away from the name no one dared to speak, the strained look on Link’s long-nosed face slowly relaxed. Just a little bit.

“Oh please. Click makes the best brews around. You ought to try them sometime, they’re…” Linkly made a gesture he recently learned from the topchef, which was apparently ‘Italian’ for “very good”. He didn’t know what an Italian was. But the gesture was fun, uniting his thumb to the rest of his fingers and lightly pressing them to his lips before expelling the hand out. Like a puff of smoke! “…divine!”

Tenna quirked his antennae in sharp annoyance, his smile becoming more plastered and strained. He could see that they mirrored him— both visibly nervous in his presence. Good. They should be. They should grovel to get on his good side, they should beg for a mere spot on his program, plead for a sliver of a moment in the limelight.

He could satisfy himself by saying no. The temptation was there. By cutting their hopes with a knife, he could fulfill a sick fantasy, born of pent up rage from years of…

Time to cut off that train of thought. His screen flickered ever so slightly, the only indication of his mental hiccup.

“Shoes, eh?” The television brought a hand up to his display to rub at his metaphorical chin. “I am always in the market for a fresh pair…” Though, the size would need to be carefully customized. 

He won’t let these… little blips on his radar down by telling them he will not be sticking around the neighborhood. That’s just rude. Leaving them in blissful ignorance was much better for optics.

"Usually this whole area's full of us. Most of us managed to make our way over when the fountain was sealed. Of course, you know Addisons. All we do is advertise!!" The pinkster gave little jazzhands.

"Even to the point where they're too busy advertising themselves to be available to sell anything."

Linkly snickered. The hand came back up to cover the mouth producing his incessant giggles, caging the laughter behind polite fingers. “It’s a fascinating cycle, really. Putting everything into getting yourself out there, only to not have any time to actually sell the product. But we like it this way, don’t we?”

My, these two were really talking business now, weren’t they? This was a safe topic. The blue one was correct. It was always about marketing. Creating logos, slogans. Drafting concepts. Tenna never got to see the things he shilled being actually used. It wasn’t the point. Well… all part of the craft. The art was the pitch itself.

“Tell me about it, folks! I’d change it if I could!” The CRT lied with a cheeky little smirk. If he could wink, he would. “Such a way to humble yourself, when you expose your product to the world, only to get disregarded and thrown in the TRASH!!” A laugh burst from his speaker, strained and maniacal. He could not help himself but blurting out the uncomfortable truth, in the end.

The TV had no clue how much he had truly hit the nail on the head. Tenna was talking about himself, unaware of the parallel. He was, however, very keenly aware of the mannequin to his right, looming in his peripheral vision like a ghost. He hated how they had dressed it up… his servos locked up in anxiety about it.

”Luckily, we have such wonderful Lightners like Susie or Kris!” He brought it back to his companions lingering in the area. “They’ll buy what we’re selling. They’ll listen.”

Now. He had not fully asked his actual question. Perhaps it was time to. His fans picked up speed as he began to ask, nervous with anticipation. Tenna wanted to learn what he had been left behind for.

The longer they sat here chatting, the more Click began to notice Tenna was a bit.... odd. Not inherently in a bad way, of course. Just... might have a few screws loose. Maybe. But who was he to judge? It wasn't like he hadn't done business with crazy people in the past, and that doesn't even include-!

”I’m looking for a particular one of you, actually. I imagine you have seen Spamton recently? What’s he up to?”

Car crashing sfx. Glass shattering cement scrape . Screams and howls of the damned. Sirens wailing. A phone ringing.

Oh.

Oh you’re saying it. Oh. You’re saying the name. Hard ‘ton’ and everything.

The question had caught Clickster entirely off guard. His eyes, usually contently closed, snapped open in disbelief and darted to gaze back at Link. His smile noticeably faltered and melted for a moment, before coming back in a far more obviously strained form.

For Linkly, It was as if a chain reaction had occurred. First he stiffened up. His whole body seemed to seize and fall still, like he’d been violently frozen in crystalline ice. Kind of like he’d been buried in the snow and left in a makeshift grave to freeze up. His smile actually fell from his face entirely, replaced by something oddly emotional for his sort: dread. The purest breed of undeniable dread.

His eyes glazed over as he stared past Tenna. Through him. Like the 3D rendered TV wasn’t even there. Something had clicked in Linkly’s head.

All of it was just noise. Click’s words slurred. Melted into one another. Stuck to his shoes like gum. Raked itself up his legs, snaked the apex of his back, coiled around the shell of his ear and gently pressed and purred against his cheek.

So much noise. Useless noise. Muffled. Static.

Garbage noise.

A branch snapped somewhere else. Plates of spaghetti are being prepared. The clinking of glass, the laughter of friends. It all flooded back into his sight. The oddly rendered sheen of Tenna’s sleeve.

"Hah- gee." Click drummed his fingers on the counter, glancing off to the side to avoid directly facing Tenna while he broke the news. The silent plea for help from Linkly had gone completely ignored. Blueboy wasn't here right now. "I eh.. haven't, actually. In fact no one really has. Not in a long time."

It had been five years since their last encounter. Ten since the general public dared to utter the salesman's name. It was hard to decide if Click should consider himself lucky, or cursed for knowing more than most people did. Instinctively, he found himself gazing at the pair of multi-colored glasses hanging from the Lightner’s pocket behind Tenna. 

He didn't know the story. Didn't know what happened beyond the fact that he, Spamton, had finally found someone to do his bidding. He didn't know if anything happened. But he felt certain something had. That distant rumbling of the old abandoned railway seeing use for the first time in years. He hadn't seen anything. No one knew what it was meant to be. But Click had a feeling. An inkling, if you will.

He hadn't shown up again after that. Not in Cyber City, not in Castle Town. 

But those glasses..

Five years was a long time, sure. But what were the chances that Lightner managed to pick up an identical pair? 

And now in lies the real question: would it be cruel to tell Tenna the truth? The truth of what happened to his old partner? Did he know anything at all? Surely he didn't, given he was asking where he was, like it was no big deal. 

Would it be cruel to reveal the truth when there was nothing that could be done about it? Or would it be better for him to live a lie?

Certainly, that had not been the reaction he was expecting. The way both Addisons tensed their digital forms at the name of the more successful salesman– Tenna furrowed the top of his display tightly.

No one had… seen him…? Not for a long time? That couldn’t be right.

But then, he had no real frame of reference for how many years had passed. Tenna had been periodically unplugged for days or weeks at a time, and his sense of time was disoriented due to it. Obviously, his internal clock knew what the date was, but… he hadn’t experienced it properly. 

He swore, he woke up one day and Kris was taller by half a foot, and was tuning into totally different types of shows than he was used to the little tyke enjoying. The house would look different in a blink of his screen. The Lightners he was surrounded by dwindled.

However– he did know that Spamton ran from the TV World and never came back. The CRT assumed he would go home to Cyber City where he could find the most customers, the most relevance, the greatest opportunities. TV was becoming a thing of the past, the salesman had obviously sensed it— He was savvy like that. It was that quick wit that Tenna wanted to get a piece of… 

Well, that’s all it was, at first.

Tenna cleared his throat. His speakers crackled.

“I… see.” He wracked his tubes for somewhere that the little mailman could have gone. He attempted to return his voice to its normal bravado. “Off to brighter pastures, then? Bigger fish?” Perhaps another dark world entirely. One that Kris and their friends had not even visited, yet. “He might turn up!” The TV didn’t know if he wanted to be there when that happened. The idea made something in his chest lock up. Just nerves, he supposed.

Linkly hadn’t noticed how he’d placed a hand up against his ear, as if cradling an invisible rotary phone up to it. Something he hastily and sloppily corrected, using it to prop his head up as he leaned sideways on their little stand. An awkward, unpleasant, and very unnatural pose to be in. Something he once again corrected, brushing a lock of hair towards his ear while using the other arm to wrap around his lower belly. All the while, Clickster was left to manage the conversation.

"...Nnnot exactly. He sorta-" 

“Sorry. Zoned out. What were we talking about again?” Linkly piped up, false enthusiasm in his voice.  “Ah, uhm. Greener pastures, yes.” He finally added with a strained little nod. “Greener… yeah. Greener pastures.”

The truth had almost leaked out. Just as Click was bitterly beginning to admit the reality, Link rejoined the conversation to save the day. Yes. Yes, that's it. He'd simply gone to greener pastures. This was a tale Click quickly latched onto, his grin broadening as he gave a nod (one a bit too enthusiastic, mind you) in agreement. 

"Yep! Doing well for himself, I'm sure." 

He could see they were lying. The excuses were flimsy.

”Well, if you do happen to see him… send the man my way.” He replied, curtly.

Fine. Tenna would have to find out the real answer on his own, if no one was going to give him a straight answer. They were probably just… jealous!

Click let out a brief sigh of relief, one he prayed Tenna hadn't caught. 

Could he tell they were lying through their teeth? 

Maybe. He hoped not.

"Of course! You'll be the first to know, I'm sure." Click reassured. This was an easier promise to make. After all, the chances of ever seeing Spamton again were so utterly slim. Slim to none. Lower than his sales ever were. 

Move the topic. Move the topic.

“Say, uhm. Are you staying here long? I’m not sure if the studio they’re making is gonna fit you.” Junior chuckled forcefully, throwing on a coat of lightheartedness over his shoulder.

The quicker they shifted gears, the better. Tenna seemed like the type of guy to latch onto mentions of his own image, didn't he? Surely if they just started talking about him, he'd be willing to ignore the mailman in the room.

”Everything looks bigger on TV,” Tenna smiled through painfully clenched teeth. “I’ll manage. Though, I may not stick around forever…” There was that nagging thought again, that no Lightner in town would want an old beat up thing like him. His value as a star of the screen would shatter into a thousand pieces. Damnit…! These little ads were making him feel… URGH!! Why’d he even try to make friends in this place when he wasn’t staying? This wasn’t his purpose!

”I’d best be off!” Tenna smoothed over the anger in his voice quite easily. His enthusiasm had been quite drained. “More to see, right Kris?” Save him. 

He turned around, and the human was indeed very close behind him. Thank goodness. Tenna let out a clipped, awkward laugh. Get him OUTTA here. 

As per usual, Kris had remained silent throughout the interaction. Silent as they left as well. Mindfully listening in, taking in the information being spilled before them. And as the tour was wrapped up, they had much to ponder. 

The dots had already been laid out before them. The warning they received in the trash zone, the remnants of the past littering TV WORLD, and that was ignoring all the blatant mentions Tenna himself dropped amidst his mental break, or even the brief moment those two actually interacted. 

'DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE-?'

The Soul had another idea. 

When it came that everything had been seen, it was time to return Tenna to his room. Of course, there was a brief... intermission that had to be made before that.

Through the courtyard, and into the castle's main room the party went. Kris’s march stuttered for a moment. Once the gates closed behind them, the Lightner came to a stop. Their gaze shifted, focusing now on Tenna with bare minimum interest. 

The CRT peered at them in confusion… until they started speaking. Their voice was in that usual monotone… not leaning towards any particular emotion… but the question they asked sent a spark through him.

* You ask Tenna if it was Spamton he was looking for earlier.

“Spa— yes, I was.” He replied slowly. Tenna locked up his posture, scared of what they were going to say. How did they even…?

”H-have you heard of… I’m sure his name and cars were big chit-chat in Queen’s city!” He blurted. The TV tried to force his usual upbeat showman personality, but the tone wobbled. Why was this such a sore topic? He should not even care! “Just never found out where he ran off to… you and Azzy took the Laptop away and I—“ 

He’s said too much. Tenna snapped his mouth shut mid sentence and shrunk visibly, giving a bitter laugh.

If Kris knew something, he should quit babbling and let them speak, and listen.

Kris felt their hand raise, the segmented metal of their gloves gently clinking against glass. Against lenses of the glasses hanging from their pocket. Multi colored, one yellow, one pink. Fingers gripped the bow of the Dealmakers, beginning to slide the armor out from its resting place.

“Who?” 
By the time they’d stopped and Kris had begun to talk, Susie had once again begun to fade into the background. Just a little bit. Mostly looking around and staring at the nearest wall.

Until the conversation got interesting. Like actually interesting. Enough to make her head swivel to stare at Tenna, reading him from afar. She had a finger to the pulse of his emotions, feeling as muscles contracted and relaxed. How the tide shifted under new context, how his inflection changed and rippled as he explained himself. Susie was no pro at being a white girl empath, but she sure tried. 

She initially started, raking and clawing through her memories in a desperate attempt for context. Her powerful figure shuffled closer, eyeing the thing Kris was messing with for a moment.

The puzzle pieces had begun to click together. For a second the beast’s eyes widened. “Oh. OHH. You mean the uh…” she snapped her fingers and smacked her own head, finally producing the vivid image she had been looking for. The museum is burning down, and she is bolting with a painting tucked under her arm. A portrait of yellow and pink, a grin so vile and strings so green. 

“You mean the giant freaky-robot-guy? You actually KNEW him??” Her gaze finally pivoted up at Tenna, before circling all the way back to Kris. A grin had begun splitting her maw apart. 

“Jeez, didn’t think you’d know the guy. He was a total creep, wasn’t he??”

History has a tendency to repeat itself. In the field we call these Groundhog Day loops.

But for the moment, it was almost a shot for shot redo of the previous scene with Ralsei; Susie raised an arm and slammed it into Kris’ back. The force was great, immense. Like a 9mm had been thrown against a cube of ballistic gel and bounced right off. Whoops.

Alas, the answers Tenna sought would go unanswered. Atleast, for a moment. As they opened their mouth to speak, a great force came crashing into their spine. It was tremendous, sending shockwaves through the Lightner’s body. This power? In the field, we call it 'Susie "Ding" Deltarune'.

It had come unexpectedly. Just as Kris lifted the Dealmakers fully out of their pocket. In a second the spectacles slipped from iron-clad fingers, spiraling to the ground and bouncing with a gentle clatter.

Giant freaky robot? Tenna had no clue what Susie was rambling about. His mouth dropped open in bafflement. Her description was so off-base that he figured she must be confusing the whole conversation for some other adversary they had fought. In fact, HE probably counted as a big freaky robot himself!

”No, I don’t think you’re talking about the same— Whoa!” 

Susie had a bit too much gusto. Tenna watched Kris stumble forwards from her shove, and he instinctively lurched into a crouch to help them. With his long stride, he ate the distance in half a second. Kris didn’t seem to put up any resistance to being caught. He had not noticed them putting out their hands to catch themself, so he was glad he stepped in. Saved from a nasty faceplant.

The TV caught Kris by their shoulders, with large hands, and he heard a distinct noise near them as he did so. Something flew from their hand and landed right next to his foot, which in his scramble to keep both of their balances, he kicked across the floor. Whatever it was clattered across the room.

“Hey there!” He continued his exclamation. “Easy, Kris.” Tenna carefully propped Kris back on their feet and adjusted their neck bandana back into place like a fussy parent would. Relief coursed through his coils. “You alright?”

Giving his old friend a once over, Tenna determined that they were in fact, unharmed. He breathed a sigh. 

There was no verbal response from the They, however they were apparently feeling kind enough to provide a physical one as they watched Tenna fuss with their bandana. A simple thumbs up. 

Back to the focus of the conversation, that being the glasses Kris had just lost on the floor. Somehow, they'd traveled far further than expected. 

Kris’s gaze was fixed to the object they had dropped, and Tenna felt it best to do them a favor and pick it up. He made his way across the room, where the pair of glasses lay, abandoned on the ground next to Ralsei’s cauldron.

”You dropped your stylish shades! Sorry about that!” He announced, plucking them from the ground between two fingers and turning them over in his hand. “They don’t look broken, but…” 

Something about them felt… off. His screen dimmed in concentration. Tenna watched a bead of condensation trace its way down one of the lenses. Like it was… sweating.

”Uh…” He didn’t know how to describe this anomaly to Kris, maybe it was best to just give them back—

The glasses twitched in his grasp, and Tenna gave a yelp.

It moved like it was alive, and wriggled like an animal trying to break free. He first dangled the spectacles in his fingers and then flinched and dropped them when they continued to writhe. He backed away a few steps, hands raised up in fear.

"What the—!” 

WERE they alive? 

“Kris… you take those, yourself, HAHA! What an interesting… toy you’ve got there!” Seriously, what were Lightners INTO these days? A new trend?

Kris stared up at Tenna with slight... confusion? Annoyance? Maybe a hint of both. But in the end, they still strode over and collected the Dealmakers themselves. Standing up from the crouch with the glasses in hand, Kris once again opened their mouth to speak. Finally, now they could explain the-

"WAAAIT!!! HOLD THE [$#@!]!!"

An awful, screeching voice suddenly permeated the room. Slightly grovely, bitcrushed. Its source, somehow, seemed to be the very glasses clasped in Kris’s hand. Just like that, they began to move on their own. 

The arms flicked themselves open, peeling up and out of the Lightner’s palm. Floating in the air, a white glow began to leak from the item. It grew and morphed rather rapidly. Once a blob, it quickly grew detailed points and curves. A figure. A... person?

Once the shape had taken its full form, the glow faded away. Soon enough it was replaced by the smell of rotting electronics. 

Now, held by the scruff of a (frankly, disgusting looking) jacket, was a wooden puppet. It bore a pale completion, almost a bizarre mockery of that of an Addison. From its face grew a long pointed nose, sprouting just above a vicious set of teeth permanently etched into a grin. The usual one-toned hair of an Addison was replaced with a black, slicked back mullet. A rather greasy looking one at that. It was as if the 'sleezy salesman' motif had been cranked up even higher than usual with this caricature.

Of course, there was no need to describe every little detail of this newfound creature. After all, this was not the first time he had been seen. It was that… , again! The grotesque intruder from backstage! 

Tenna bristled at the memory, his screen temporarily going dark. He had been in a state of panic back then. Having such a stranger show up and scream nonsense at him, especially around such a precious possession of his— had him acting erratic. It was a little embarrassing to recall the whole thing. Still… It was gross. Apparently Kris held a creature so insidious it had to be contained within a pair of glasses.

The thing did bear a few new accessories this time around. A transparent green visor, a cigarette (one distinctly from cyber city, thanks to its blue tinge and the pixelated smoke it spilt) and a set of cards, clasped in one wooden hand.

Quickly the puppet rattled to life. Its limbs swayed and wobbled like that of a marionette, hands fumbling with the cards for only a moment in order to tuck them away somewhere in its disintegrating jacket. Soon enough it was squirming and writhing, pulling free from Kris’s grasp and falling. Tenna winced audibly and curled inward on himself as it clunked to the floor with a wooden sound. Once the wretched beast pulled itself up from an awkward, crumpled position, it wordlessly began to crawl up the Lightner’s side. Somehow, at no surprise to anyone, Kris was not phased by this. 

Through low, bitter, compressed mumblings, the rat-like creature crawled its way up onto Blue Person's head. Its stance was wobbly, uncertain. And yet, it seemed to be far more focused on something else. Something far, far bigger. 

Even though the puppet's grin seemed unchanging, its expression seemed to match that of a scowl as it locked lenses with the nervous cathode standing before him and Kris. Perched atop the Lightner’s head, they were nearly at eye-level with each other.

Why was Kris letting it crawl all over them? This… ghastly puppet used Kris’s head like a stepping stool, perching on their hair and— OH HEAVENS WHY IS IT GRABBING AT HIM.

The marionette had reached forward, swiping at Tenna's jacket until he caught a corner of fabric to latch onto. This ended up being that Wretched yellow tie. Once captured it received a vicious yank, one intended to reel Tenna in closer. Now holding Tenna hostage, the dummy used the other Darkner as an anchor, stability as it leaned to get a good look at him. Particularly, his shoulders for some reason.

Tenna was so caught off guard by his tie being yanked that he did nothing to stop it, just stooped forwards and raised his arms in the air. His mouth dropped open. The little thing leered at him, the glasses on its face glinting sinisterly. Tenna started to feel a foreboding shadow hang over him, a noise like garbled static in his mind… what was happening?!

The hostage inspection continued on. The puppet let out something akin to a snarl as it pulled his focus away from the shoulders and onto that wretched, fuzzy screen. Usually this would be a moment where two characters 'lock eyes', however this doesn't really apply since. You know. Neither of them can really do that. Instead Tenna was being inspected more like an item. Investigated for any signs of injury or damage. In the end, this proved a fruitless task. Once again the puppet vocalized its frustration with a gravelly "BAH!" And punctuated it by gifting with Tenna a rather powerful flick on the nose.

The agonizing moment was quickly broken.

Tenna jolted, and hands flew to his nose. “Hey—! What—”

Finally Tenna was released, as the wretched yellow tie was tossed away in disgust. The Addison caricature instead turned his focus down onto the Lightner it stood upon.

"KRIS??!? KRIS!?!!" Shrieked the thing, waving its arms about. "WHAT THE [$#@!] WERE YOU GUYS THINKING!?! ARE YOU TRYING TO [Extended] OUR [Delivery date]???"

On and on it shrieked, words only broken up by brand new sound bites randomly introduced in its speech. For a moment the wretched creature seemed to almost spasm in the air, an explosion of pixels erupting from its head for maybe only half a second. A rather gruesome sight to those who caught it, one that went unacknowledged by its owner.

It was so LOUD. The voice that clawed its way from the puppet’s unhinged jaw was thoroughly obfuscated by digital noise, like a recording done with horrible microphones. Distortion layered upon itself in a horrific way. Tenna knew sometimes his own voice had quality issues, but this was something else. Not to mention the multiple voices that seemed to intercut with its sentences.

The TV had only heard it talk for about three seconds and he already felt a headache coming on. He flinched at the painful looking glitch.

”Kris! You have a… it’s on your head.” Tenna waggled his finger in disgust. “I thought I took care of this… thing, back in TV World.” He reeled backwards, still trying to wrap his head around why Kris was carrying it around. “Why are you— Why do you even have it?”

The puppet snapped its head back up to glare at Tenna. Rather than let Kris do any explaining, it started screeching again.

"WHY DO THEY [Having]?? BECAUSE ME AND KRIS ARE [Friend request accepted], [Cathode]!!!”

The thing threw his head back and released a short wave of laughter. It was undoubtedly maniacal, unhinged. Teeth audibly clicked together with each guffaw, adding to the choir of clicking and clacking each movement produced.

Tenna couldn’t seem to process all that was going on. He felt his insides stutter with the effort they kept up keeping his fans running. Tenna gaped at the puppet as it carried on. Yes, he was listening. Yes, he was absorbing the garbled syllables it spit out. But he felt like nothing made sense.

He was supposed to be having a nice time right now. Getting a tour, settling in, hoping for the future, but instead, he was listening to—

Cathode.
That’s— no one called him that. Except…

He could practically hear the nickname smoothly sliding out of the crooked grin that he both truly despised yet had trusted with his deepest worries. The man who always seemed two steps ahead.
Tenna furrowed his ‘brow’. 

"I WARNED THEM ABOUT YOU, YOU KNOW. I TOLD THEM YOU WERE [[5 easy payments of $9.99!]]!" 

A tangent seemed as if it was about to start, before the puppet caught himself mid-word. He sputtered for a moment, then vigorously shook his head to push away the distraction. 

"TH3TS BESIDES THE         . YOU!!" 

The salesman— maybe palesman?— pointed a finger in Tenna's direction with a wild flair. One that was so vigorous it left the puppet wobbling for a moment. Once again he seemed to be scowling up at the host, even though that grin never faltered or twitched. 

"YOU'RE SUPPOSE>D TO BE [Killed]!! YOU:RE SUPPOS3D TO BE [Cleaved Red]!! WHAT THE [$#@!]!!!" He barked. Whatever swear was meant to come out was shamefully censored with a bleep. Something Tenna probably appreciated. The pointing came to a halt as the creature threw his arms up in the air loosely. 

"YOU CAN'T [Skip Ad] ON [[A date with Destiny!]]"

“I don’t know. WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!” The TV screeched back, matching the energy. His speakers peaked with the sound. “I’m not SUPPOSED to be anything!” Other than entertaining, of course. Had the puppet expected him to stay damaged? Or just… cease to exist?

Tenna jammed a finger in the doll’s general direction. “For your information… Kris’s friends helped me get my body back together. So…”

What was there to WARN Kris about, anyway? Tenna didn’t consider himself dangerous. He had had no intentions on hurting the three heroes. He just wanted them to stay. To like him.

The puppet stared Tenna down with vitriol as the argument elevated itself into a proper screaming match, if only for just a second. So those two had undone what was meant to happen. Grand. Superb. The thing whirled his head back to stare the purple and green ones down, his neck rather effortlessly turning nearly a full 180° degrees in the process. 

"OH, [$#@!]ING NICE ONE." He spat bitterly. "NOW HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO           !" 

There was even more pointing in Tenna's direction. Though, now it looked a bit awkward with the puppet’s head on backwards.

While Ralsei wasn’t quite capable of stopping the interactions that would come after this, Ralsei had one thing to say. And as all goats do, he butted into the conversation horns-first. Shifting his weight from hoof to hood, the fluff mass wrapped in the colors of a forest and bubblegum had gently placed both hands (hooves?) against one another. In a prayer pose, bordering that of pleading. “Is uhm. Is the yelling really necessary?” He bleated gently, floppy ears slowly pinning back with concern. He could tell Tenna hadn’t connected the dots yet - not that it was a bad thing. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to know the identity of the angered marionette screaming for attention. 

And lo, the weak question went ignored. 
"HOW HARD IS IT TO LE4VE SOMEONE [Microwave-ready TV dinner] IN THE [Cold and alone]??" The palesman shrieked.

Of course it wasn’t just the screeching that bothered Ralsei, no. It was the gift of foresight that had nestled into the wooden plaything, something scarcely offered in the Dark World. It made Ralsei’s brow crease and his smile tighten at the corners a little too much for comfort.

“Sorry, uhm… How did you know about the… you know!” The goat’s baas gradually faded into silence as Ralsei folded both hands in front of himself, briefly changing his usual stance. His left ear twitched ever so slightly as both eyes sloppily darted over the space where Tenna’s arm had cleanly disconnected from his shoulder. Where internal components had been shown off to the world in all of their metallic glory.

The wooden creature's gaze shifted from a general glare to instead focusing directly on the goatboy. So this one knew of it too, eh? This made the failure even more annoying.

"IF YOU KNOW [you nose], KID! AND I [nose] EVERYTHING!" 

He let out a cackle. The dummy awkwardly reached around backwards and pulled the cigarette from his teeth. Out came a cloud of pixelated, blue smoke.

“Who… ARE you?” The CRT glanced around, searching for answers from Kris, Ralsei or Susie. He clutched his monitor in distress. “What is this…?”

The long nose… the slicked back dark hair… the… nickname…
It was ironic that he was continually being reminded of the mailman just after hitting a dead end with it. This creature had absolutely nothing to do with all of that and yet… Tenna cursed his own sentimentality. It had to be a fault. 

He had to stop letting his past plague his mind. His new friends were more important!

Tenna couldn't get over how much the puppet’s glare made him feel. The daggers shot at him through merely a pair of glasses and a forced grimace were painfully unsettling. It made him feel small. He might have even shrank a little.

The doll’s head whipped back around to the correct position, once again locking lenses on the television before him. 

"DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE [your old pal]??"

This was a question he'd tried to ask before. He knew better now. In the heat of the moment he'd let himself have hope, let himself believe that things were capable of getting better. Of... going back to how they used to be.

A foolish dream. He was stupid for letting his guard drop like that. You know where it got him? 'Rat'. 'Thing'. 'Fiend'. 'Creature'. Getting doused in wretched foam. Getting kicked across the room, picked up only to be dropped again in disgust, like he was garbage. 

Manipulated. It was just another mind game. Designed to yank at his strings, just like that stupid scrap heap always did. 
He knew better now. Yes indeed, he did.

There was a vague creak of wood as the puppet’s grin actually morphed this time, stretching into an even bigger smile than before. Once again he plucked the cigarette from his teeth, carefully balancing it in between two wooden, jointed fingers. 

Through crackly speech came yet another soundbite. This time, Tenna’s own words were shot back at him, spat out of the dummy’s mouth mere hours after they'd been spoken for the first time. Shouted amidst a rather intense minigame. 

"IT:S ME! YOUR [WORST HATER!]!!"

The puppet performed a bow. 

Chapter Text

Art by Mink, Coloring by Sal

"DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE [your old pal]??"

"IT:S ME! YOUR [BIGGEST HATER!]!!"

Tenna's own words had been shot back at him, spat out of the dummy's mouth mere hours after they'd been spoken for the first time, shouted amidst a rather intense minigame. Before that paper mache head was dropped, the final boss. 

"HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING MY [[4am ad slot]]? I THIN=K I'VE BEEN [Holding my title] WELL! WE EVEN WROTE A [[I'll KILL my tv with a battering ram!]]!!"

Something about the puppet’s first question had been familiar. Asking if it was recognized. Well… of course not! Tenna had never known such a horrifying thing. Was no friend of his. Maybe this Darkner was…. a fan? With the stilted and glitching way it spoke, it could have been from Cyber City. That was probably where Kris picked it up.

"No! No I don’t!" Tenna responded, distressed. His screen flickered in irritation.  "I—" What?

He froze.

His voice. His own voice, coming from the marionette’s hinged jaw. Playing back like a rerun. Tenna had said that when encouraging the Lightners to destroy a giant sculpture of… of…

His fans started to whir faster. His chest heaved. What was this…? 

This little wooden dummy was claiming to be… him? Couldn’t be. Tenna shoved down the fact that he had been instantly reminded of his old partner several times in the last few minutes, and began to deny it.

It couldn’t be.

"That’s impossible," He replied, with a shaking tone. His shoulders hunched, tensing, and he felt anger starting to build. How dare this little wretch—

Tenna stomped over with a loud thud. 

The puppet could feel the ground slightly vibrating as Tenna stormed his way up. There was hardly any time to react. And even if there was, there weren’t a lot of options here. Standing still and upright, using its own body weight was awkward enough as it was. It'd been a long time since the doll needed to support himself on his own.

Just like that, he had been snatched up off of Kris’s head. The human did not react, as expected. Finally freed from the position as pillar, they took a few steps back to regroup with Susie and Ralsei.

The TV held his adversary by the back of its collar, bringing it closer to him.

"HEY!" It shrieked. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE PUT;>ING YOUR [bare claws] [boob tube]!!! I'LL [get my lawyer involved]!!"

The dummy squirmed and wiggled around, obviously peeved by being grabbed so suddenly. A valiant, yet ultimately worthless fight. Once it realized no progress was made, the puppet let himself fall still again.

The CRT Darkner examined the thing with his antennae, taking a much closer and scrutinizing look. It did not resemble the mailman in any way, except for the white ‘skin’ and black ‘hair’. And the long nose. And the nickname it had tossed out from earlier. And…

His circuits clenched in dread.

"You’re pretending to be him." Tenna growled, showing his fangs in an attempt to intimidate.

His insides once again twisted at the revelation. It had to be true, because Spamton was off somewhere else in the world, finding the success he always was destined to. He wasn’t some corrupted Rat.

Tenna was what held him back. 

That’s why the Big Shot had gone away.

He couldn’t be… this.

Pretending. 

He was pretending to be himself. 

The doll dangling from Tenna's grip stared for a moment, the direction of its gaze lost behind the mirrored reflection of those multi-colored lenses. 

Then, the creature twitched with a short, exhaled chuckle. Then another. Then another. Quickly the laughter grew in speed and volume, until he was doubling over in utterly maniacal hysterics. 

"YOU THINK- EAHAHAHAHAAA!! YOU THINK I'M [an actor]??" The thing pointed its cigarette in Tenna's direction. "YOU REALLY THINK A [[Regular joe shmoe]] WOU LD WANT TO [immitate] A [Worthless nobody] [Big Shot]??? EAHAHEHAHAHAA!!"

Truly, it brought forth an interesting question. Who was himself at this point? What was sales talk? What was an act? What were lies, and what was the truth? 

He didn't know. He'd stopped trying to keep track years ago.

But that's what made the accusation so hysterical. No one could ever imitate him! Not in any way that was effective, at least. He was the original. He was better.

The whole room still felt like it was spinning. The creature’s laugh cut through the air— shrill, deranged, horrifying and unsettling. The CRT held his composure, continuing to make a scary face, but he was afraid. He let the puppet speak, its grating noise making his antennae vibrate uncomfortably. It continued to warble out words that coiled around and squeezed his ‘heart’ over and over.

The Big Shot remark made sense. It was clear this creature knew who Tenna was referring to without even having to say a name— The little mailman was famous. He’d made a name for himself. His charm was infectious and unrelenting. He had to have a crazy fan or two.

But. Worthless… nobody? Was it referring to itself, or…?

Tenna tightened his grip on the puppet’s jacket. He lifted the thing higher in the air, making the situation all the more intense. Dropping it would probably hurt the wretched thing, and he sort of wanted to see that happen. Tempting, but not yet.

"I think you’re deranged," Tenna spat back, his voice booming to outdo his adversary. It was something anyone could see. The whole world would agree and applaud his correct statement. "You want a piece of his success."

 "[Y] WOULD I?? SO I COULD [sign the contract] AND [ruin my life] ALL OVE;R AGAIN?? [Get BIG]!! EHEAHAHAHA!!"

The contract.

Even if it was a fan of Spamton, that… was something that it couldn’t have possibly known.

Every motor in his body lurched at once. Tenna opened his mouth to retort, but nothing emerged.  His tense posture drooped a little, arm lowering a fraction. He was once again, for the millionth time that minute, presented with an inner turmoil that threatened to overheat every part of him.

NO ONE knew he and the mailman had intended to sign a contract. No one. They had gotten right up to the point where they were poised to putting pen to paper, grinning and giddy, but-

How could that have ruined his life? It was never brought to fruition.

How…?

Tenna forced all his attention once again on the Darkner in his grasp. It was small. Smaller than the man he remembered had ever been. Its tiny hands were segmented like a toy. Its cheeks were painted rosy red. Whatever eyes it may have had were entirely obscured by the glasses. It just… looked nothing like his old partner. He couldn’t reconcile the differences. Yet…

Its mouth was even stretched into a permanent smile, but it appeared more of a grimace. That smile. Those teeth. Wooden or not… there was something off in the alignment. A noticeable dent.

A very distinct, undeniable feature.

Tenna’s screen shut down, turning black while he thought. He conjured up the memory of his friend’s face on all those posters he tore to shreds.

His center teeth had never quite lined up as well. That flaw in his teeth. He’d smirk with his lips tightly shut to hide it. Tenna had told him once that it was something that presented a unique charm, something the audience wouldn’t forget.

And it was still hard to forget. Even after so long.

The hand that grasped the puppet began to tremble. Tenna gripped his own head with his free one. His facial features blinked back on, revealing a wobbling, unsure frown.

Recognition.

"…It can’t really be you, can it?"

Don’t cry.

"Spamton?"

Spamton found this wasn't quite the reaction he'd expected.

The hysterics had subsided into mere giggling, then slowly died off from there. He expected rage. Anger. Hatred that matched his own. He'd been watching it all throughout their adventures in TV World, after all. That damn television just couldn't keep his big stupid mouth shut for a SECOND. Constantly he was pelted by little insults or mockery: It was all that spammy little mailman's fault. The TV’s downfall had been his fault and his fault alone, according to Tenna. Spamton was his biggest hater. He was trying to kill television. 

Maybe if not anger, there'd be a wicked display of mockery. Just to match everything else the TV host had shot from his mouth. Laughter. Venom.

Look how far you've fallen. Look how pathetic and Worthless you've become. To think you were once Somebody. To think you really thought you could pull yourself up out of the dark. To think you ever tried to be anything more than what you know you are. 

To think I once looked up to you.

That last part may have been projection.

That was what Tenna was supposed to say. So where was it all? Where was the rage. Where were the insults. 

Why was he just sitting there with that stupid look on his screen?

Tenna could feel his circuits kicking into overdrive, sparking so much heat that he worried he was going to blow a fuse and cause himself to shut down. Sparks danced at the ends of his antennae. He tasted the static that fuzzed noisily on his face.

He was lightheaded and growing dizzy, and he felt, for a moment, sort of like throwing up. He breathed raggedly. Tenna couldn't believe that this was happening. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

But there he was. Spamton.

Spamton was here in Castle Town. As if the years of silence had not even existed.

Tenna could barely piece this together, hardly process it. He felt physically perturbed. A far cry from how he expected a reunion with the mailman would feel.

It's… It was absurd.

The window had been opened once before, and Spamton knew now what that would get him. He refused to open it again. He wouldn't fall for Tenna's manipulation this time. He wouldn't become another comedy routine on his late night talk show. 

What he would do was peel back this facade, and expose Tenna for what he was. A lying, cheating scam artist. Sure, Spamton was one all the same, but at least he had an EXCUSE. It was all he had left. But Tenna? Tenna had more than enough to keep him afloat before he started using people. Rotten little man.

Nothing between them had ever been real. All an act. Stringing him along long enough to get a signature on a paper. And when that didn't work out, Spamton became public enemy number one. Remind yourself of that. Don't let a pathetic little frown make you forget.

"It can't really be you, can it?"

Shut up. Shut your goddamn mouth. Stop it. Stop messing with me.

Spamton let out another low chuckle, this one holding far less energy than his episode from a moment ago. The window remained closed. But we'll play this game, Tenna. Just for a moment. 

"IN THE         !" The puppet stuck the cigarette back in between his teeth, then held out both arms like he was displaying himself. "WOULD'V3 BEEN NICE IF YOU [Put 2 and 3 together] EARLIER INS:TEAD OF [Drowning] ME IN [[insulating foam]]."

It made no sense. How was he here? Why was he here? Tenna hadn’t seen him in years! Now he suddenly showed up. This was like some kind of cruel joke where… where Tenna's emotions were the punchline and the comedian was life. He was supposed to be the host of this show. In control. Not being blindsided by his former collaborator showing up, wearing new skin like it was nothing.

The little puppet was smoking a cigarette. At least that was familiar. Heavens, Tenna could go for one himself right now despite saying a thousand times he was going to quit.

The foam. The television cringed visibly.

"Oh… that. Uh—" What should he even say? Apologizing felt kind of pathetic, especially in this position they were in where he was literally dangling Spamton from one hand. "I didn’t— I was…!" He fumbled for an excuse, but there really was none. Maybe a sorry really was in order.

Tenna opened his mouth to say it, but something occurred to him. Spamton had been with Kris the entire time. He could have… popped out earlier and said something! He waited for Tenna’s most vulnerable moment? With his secret possession? A pang of fear entered him, realizing he had no idea where his precious girl was. Maybe Ralsei knew.

His screen glowed hot, fury building.

"Well I… could have pieced this together earlier… If you’d BOTHERED TO SAY SOMETHING SOONER!!" He visibly angered more, his teeth clenching sharply across the glass and his ‘brow’ furrowing. "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

Abandoned. Without so much as a word. When Spamton had told Tenna to hold off on the contract for just a day, the TV had taken him at face value. And then a day went by. A week turned into a month, and so on and so forth.

Nothing.

"You… YOU LITTLE—" He gripped Spamton’s collar tighter in his fist again and shook him slightly. Spamton let out a brief, wobbly vocalization as he was shaken, his wooden body rattling like a bamboo windchime with the movement. For the first time pupils became visible within his glasses, rolling around like a pair of googly eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t THROW you into that cauldron right now."

The puppet sneered back at his fellow Darkner, limply crossing his arms over his chest. Frankly he was insulted by the questions. The suggestion that he had the opportunity to just stop by whenever he pleased.

"WHERE HAVE I BEEN?? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??" Spamton shot back bigly. "TOO BUSY TO [[Make a phone call]]?? WHERE W3RE YOU? [Ccrying] AT THE BOTTOM OF A [dumpster]?? [Vacationing] IN THE [Boiled] [Spa]?? WATCHING YOUR [Sales] DROP TO [Zer0]!?!" 

Before Spamton had even begun to speak, Tenna had already made up his mind. He was seeing red, and fury igniting in his chest wormed its way up his wires and he seethed. His whole body seemed to buzz.

The little worm was definitely insulting him, and even though Tenna barely listened to any of it, he understood that fact. He grit his teeth so hard they made an audible, high pitched whine. Like the noise your CRT makes when it wants a walk!

The beast thrashed in Tenna's grip again, making a second attempt to pull himself free. Again, no luck. All he ended up doing was dissolving into a garbled mess of pixels for a moment.

"MAYBE IF YOU HADN'T [played] ME LIKE A [fiddler] WE WOULDN'T BE I>N N THIS [sticky situation]!! EVER THOUGHT ABOUT [a penny for your thoughts]!!?!"

Spamton couldn't wait to hear Tenna's excuse on this one. While he had a captive audience, no less. How would precious little Kris and Susie feel if they found out their beloved TV host ruined a man's life?? 

Given they'd nearly been killed by the guy a few hours ago, probably not much different. 

Whatever. He hardly thought he'd receive the honest truth. Not when he was being watched. Image came first with Tenna. He knew that very well. It'd simply be fun to see him try. See him squirm under pressure. A mere fraction of the fate he deserved. A taste of the deck of cards he should've been dealt for the last ten years.

Tenna pulled Spamton closer to his screen, staring him down, trying to read him. Anything in that carved face that would explain why. The salesman smelled vile and sour, but Tenna didn’t care. His static cling made the puppet’s hair stand on end. Then…

He let the rage control him. 

Tenna reeled his arm back and lobbed the stupid thing against the nearest wall with a loud grunt of effort. 

Abandoner. Deserter. Liar. BASTARD! 

Spamton hit the stone with an awful hollow clatter, and the snap of splintering wood. In the impact his body contorted, flailing uselessly like the limp doll he was. Hitting the ground, the puppet landed in a useless, awkward heap.

For the first time since re-materializing, Spamton's expression had shifted to something that wasn't a grotesque grin. The painted-on rosy cheeks had all but faded, as did the carved corners of his mouth that actually created the smile. What they were left with was a toothy grimace. The vibrant yellow and pink of his glasses had melted into a murky black. The sight alone immediately snapped the TV back to his senses.

Oh $#@!

The three heroes were still in the room, watching as he hurt someone. He knew this looked bad. Panic flooded his system. Tenna grabbed at his head in distress again, screen once more going dark and flickering with static as he started sputtering excuses.

"Oh no— no, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I! I don’t know why I did that! I didn’t mean—"

The words said to him moments before only now began to compute. Puzzle pieces clicked together. Was that all true? Sales dropped to nothing? Crying in dumpsters? Was that what had happened to Spamton? Is that what he had been implying? Why… why hadn’t he asked for help?

"I did try to call, I… your phone was broken! It just kept making these horrible sounds! I… I unplugged it!" His voice cracked, and Tenna’s arms dropped down loosely to his sides. Rapidly, his entire form began to shrink. Down, down, until he was practically the same size as the little former Big Shot. He hung his head. "I wasn’t trying to… I don’t—"

There was no response. Only a twinkling of green sparkles that began to hover around Spamton's head. 

Like a dazed cartoon character, a quartet of heavenly pipis had materialized to fly circles around the battered dummy's skull. One by one their tiny forms gave Spamton a pat on the head, disappearing in a puff of healing magic. Even still, the Darkner didn't budge. Not yet anyway. 

Tenna knew this made him look terrible. He had already badly embarrassed himself in front of the Lightners once earlier today, desperately forcing them to play his games, to keep his relevance, and putting Toriel in danger. He’d been given another chance to exist, and to matter. Now he was blowing it.

If what Spamton said was true… was it his own fault that their friendship had ended? Could that be it?

"You left me." The TV muttered, despondent, but not without a bit of venom leftover. "That’s what I thought, at least."

The veil had returned. The shield had only come down for a moment. Unfortunately, not long enough for Spamton to get the 'answer' he was looking for. He was processing. Slowly, processing. Taking in the pathetic whimpering and mutterings coming from the shrunken screen. It made him sick. Violently sick. He hated his performance. This display. He was boiling. Did that scrap heap seriously think anyone was buying this?? After the shit he just pulled?

The crumpled form was silent as he began to shift. Even after Tenna had run out of things to say, there was no response. As Spamton rearranged himself, he placed a hand against the floor in order to push himself up. He would've used the other as well, however he found it to be unresponsive. Hm.

And as Spamton lifted his arm up, his hand cleanly slid out of the weathered sleeve and hit the floor. The break was about mid-forearm, exposing the limb to be completely hollow. From his cuff now spilled a dozen, thin green wires. They twitched and writhed uselessly, aiming to control anatomy that was no longer there.

There was practically zero reaction to what was essentially an amputation. See, this wasn't anything new. In fact that was a rather old break, if he was being honest. A souvenir from one of his many failed mansion break-ins, one in particular which left him falling about three stories after crashing through a window. Hey, nothing a little wood glue can't fix! This was repairable. This was an easy fix. He'd done it a dozen times in the past. 

But this was different. 

This situation was. Different. 

Tenna was the culprit. Not some worthless nobody who found him annoying. Not a swatchling who was paid bonuses if they beat him senseless. No, no. It was Tenna.

As if he ever needed the confirmation. But if he did, now he had it. Tenna was a worthless, no-good scumbag who had only looked to use him. If Spamton had ever thought the opposite, it was foolish of him.

Now that Spamton was no good to him, Tenna didn't NEED him anymore!! He knew it. He knew this all along. Throwing him away like a discarded page of a script. Crumpling him up and tossing him over the shoulder.

Then what did the CRT do? Haha. What DID he do? He played the victim card. Like he always did. Spluttered out apologies and mournful tones, surely to win the Lightner’s favor. Maybe he intended to take away the last Good thing Spamton had going for him. Yes, yes! Surely that was it! Make him look like the bad guy. Make Kris not want him anymore. Kris, you wouldn't do that. I can still make you stronger. I can still help you. We're friends. You wouldn't drop me. Not like everyone else. 

Not like Tenna.

Tenna wasn't even meant to be here. 

It wouldn't matter, would it? Surely not. He was simply finishing the job. It was meant to happen anyways. It wasn't his fault someone decided to go against the plan. He'd show them. He'd show them how useful he could be. He'd fix this tiny little mistake. 

A boohoo. Sob sob weep. Tenna had splayed his hands over his still darkened screen in order to wallow in feeling bad for himself. He’d been so miserable, for so long— Spamton’s disappearance being one of the core causes. Instead now, like everything else, he began to wonder if it was his own doing. His own fault that the Dreemurr family collapsed. His own fault that no one wanted to watch him anymore and ratings plummeted. His own fault that he had fallen into disrepair and irrelevancy. Maybe Tenna had pushed Spamton away with his constant prodding for them to sign a deal. Scared off his only good business partner. By the second, it started to feel more and more true. Spamton clearly hated him.

Just as the silence was beginning to stretch on a bit too long, a grin once again stretched across Spamton's face. Like a set of dark bulbs, the lenses flickered back to their original color. 

And Spamton booked it. 

In a second the puppet was launching himself forward, his movements frantic and ungainly. There were no words as he threw himself at Tenna's shrunken frame, tackling him to the floor.

A hand and a bundle of wires gripped each side of Tenna's boxy head. Wordlessly Spamton gave a hearty yank upwards on the CRT, before shoving it back down towards the floor. It'd be easy. The floor was stone, and the casing was plastic. All it'd take was bashing his head into the ground a few more times.

Tenna barely had time to dwell on the feelings that were making him enter another downward spiral— because he was quickly tackled to the ground.

WHAM.

Tenna cried out in surprise as Spamton slammed into him. They were now more evenly matched due to his shortened size, and the puppet was absolutely ferocious, feral, relentless. Tenna’s head was seized and shaken, bashed into the ground with such force that the plastic dented, and a hairline crack split diagonally across his entire screen, worming its way from the top left to the bottom right. 

The CRT gasped in pain, throwing his hands up towards his face. He attempted to flick his display back on, doing so causing the wound to burn all the more. The image stuttered. He hissed. He snarled. He thrashed.

"Ow—! Ow!" He yelled in protest. Tenna grabbed at the wires and hand holding him and wrenched with all his strength, growing just slightly in size again and pulling Spamton’s grip away. For a long moment he stared at the crazed expression of the former Addison, aghast. It was wild, twisted— the grin plastered there far too wide. He’d gone absolutely mad. Not a trace of the old salesman remained.

"You’re trying to KILL ME?" The television spat through crackling static, angry again. He felt a little less bad about hurting the puppet now. "I DIDN’T RUIN YOUR LIFE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

But… he still held those green wires in a tight fist. Tenna stared at them, horrified. They moved like they were truly alive, a part of Spamton’s anatomy… and his actual arm sat on the floor behind him, discarded. Broken off.

Because of what Tenna had just done.

Everything really was his fault.

No one would receive answers. Not right now, at least. While Spamton had the upper hand, he was still undeniably weaker than the TV. It took very little to pry the puppet’s grip away, and hold him there at a distance. Even still, he thrashed. He squirmed and he yanked, desperate to become free so he could continue his efforts to kill Tenna. He could be the one to do it. He kicked at his chest, attempting blindly to throw punches even with his hands restrained. By now it seemed he was at least trying to give some sort of response, however it came out utterly jumbled and incoherent. The sputtering of a radio being flicked through rapidly spilled from the puppets mouth as he continued to thrash around. Every other movement seemed to bring a new wave of glitching and distortion in Spamton’s body. Truly, he was a mess at the moment. 

"Fine!" He released Spamton once more when he saw how much the doll was writhing. "Kill me. See if it matters." The CRT was still angry. He wanted his old friend to explain what had happened. Why he was so crazed. Why he looked so different, why he spoke in many voices, none of them his.

But if Tenna was never going to get any of that… why bother? He knew they wouldn’t find anyone to watch him, anyway. His outlook was bleak to begin with.

"Kill me before I do it myself."

The moment Tenna released him, Spamton was back in action. Wires once again found themselves wrapped around the edges of the CRT, giving another wild yank and then-

And then the puppet was lifted up into the air.

Once again Spamton was dangling. This time not in the grip of Tenna, but rather Kris. The Lightner held him by the scruff of his jacket, arm extended out as far as it could go to avoid thrashing limbs. For once, they seemed phased by the events taking place. A slight look of discomfort had woven its way across their face as they restrained the out-of-control puppet. Spamton continued to shriek and scramble for freedom, clawing at the air in between him and Tenna.

Tenna felt relief surge and wash over him as Kris lifted the thing off of his body. He didn’t actually want to die. He was all talk.

He let his monitor clunk to the stone floor and relaxed with a sag. The damage done to him left the world spinning again, and he quickly felt his systems shutting down. 

A brief bout of sleep mode might do him some good. He could rest here for just a moment. Wake up more clearheaded. A reset, one might say.

As he drifted away into the nothingness of a turned off electronic, he had a fleeting dream. A memory fragment. He slipped into the comfortable blanket of darkness.

That one night the Holidays had stayed over. The four children had all slept on the living room floor, giggling and playing. They had accidentally left him on all night, his gentle glow keeping watch as they curled their tiny forms into sleeping bags. 

When Toriel finally graciously clicked him off as the sun rose, he and Spamton were so exhausted from keeping the lights on that they immediately collapsed, asleep on top of each other in the green room couch. No words were exchanged. Nothing was needed.

It was the best sleep he’d ever had.

No words were said. Kris stared down at Tenna for only a moment, before bringing their attention to Susie. 

While the argument and the cat fight ensued, Susie had briefly vanished. She stomped someplace offscreen for just a moment, coming back with a pair of red-and-white zebra-print popcorn buckets, stuffed to the brim with delicious buttery treats. She’d even offered Ralsei one, only for the goat to ignore her in favor of studying the interactions between the two of them. Particularly focusing on Spamton for a bit. That break looked painful. And familiar. Ralsei had even begun stepping forward after Spamton had allegedly lost consciousness, tempted to fulfill his role as a healer.

A muscular arm clutching the tub lurched to the side, blocking Ralsei off and narrowly missing slamming into his chest with enough force to knock a man unconscious. 

"Hold it or wear it." A low growl escaped the plum-scaled beast’s lips, rising from the bottom of her lungs and vibrating its way up her throat. Plumes of invisible smoke slithered through the dragon’s mouth as her talons dove into the plentiful land of popped corn. "Let them duke it out, it’s good for them." She added, voice barely above a whisper. The girl hated to see Tenna so distressed, but that particular feeling of empathy was softened into an ooze by the excitement of a good duel.

Ralsei had no choice nor say in the matter, forced to grasp on to his bucket of popcorn and remain behind the single scaly bar keeping him from being helpful. He didn’t look particularly happy about this setup, nor did he ever take his eyes off of the two as the argument went on. His hands only held, never dipping into the meal offered. Ogling. Staring. Waiting for someone to get really hurt.

The clouds parted, and sent down a fluttering, popcorn-covered angel. Kris’s tension seemed to melt a bit as the girl made her approach, glancing back with a much more relaxed expression. The transition was silent, as long as you didn't count the incoherent garble coming from the puppets mouth. Kris handed Spamton over to Susie.  Apparently they trusted whatever this idea happened to be.

Then, the focus was back to Tenna. The Lightner shuffled their way over, crouching beside the shrunken TV to investigate. He hadn't just keeled over, had he? Surely not. Granted, Kris had never seen a Darkner die before. They weren’t quite sure what happened to a Darkner when they died. Did they dissolve into nothing? Fade away into dust? Transform back into their light-world form? So far none of the above was happening, leading Kris to assume Tenna was just fine. Knocked out, probably. He survived getting his arms sliced off, he could certainly handle a whack to the head. 

So while Susie handled Spamton (still thrashing), Kris handled Tenna. It was a rather miniscule effort. A simple couple of taps on the side of the TVs square head, searching for any sign of consciousness, or life in general. 

Tip tap tap.

Was he malfunctioning again? Was Toriel knocking on his side to help the weak signal? To clear the static…? What was that sound? Why did it vibrate the very core of his being?

Tenna’s consciousness slowly faded back to him, his screen gradually flickering on. His nose and mouth popped into view shortly after a very loud degaussing bang that woke him abruptly from his groggy state. A sharp reboot.

Kris! It was Kris tapping his head. They had knelt next to him in mild concern. His antennae twitched in recognition with a small spark.

"Kris…! I… I must have shut down for a moment there." He smiled warmly up at the human, masking his disoriented exhaustion. "Thanks for waking me up."

He sat up, easing back to normal size with care to not bump anything as he did so. As he gathered his wits about him, he remembered— Spamton. Where was he? Turning his gaze just slightly to the left provided the answer instantly: writhing in Susie’s grip like a caught animal.

The puppet was still damaged. The green wires still dangled from him. Tenna cringed in guilt. Even if he felt a little grim satisfaction, getting a nice revenge hit on the little scam artist, it still… it was too much. Too hollow. He’d gone too far.

Still, he didn’t feel like apologizing. Pain bloomed up on the crack that had previously formed, and he pressed a hand to it to quell the sting. That wound was enough to keep him plenty angry at his former business partner.

"I’m alright." Tenna assured quickly. He didn't know if Kris was worried, but he figured he would state it anyway. He wanted the Lightner to care, because he cared for them, in an avuncular sort of way. "I hope I didn’t worry you."

Susie’s Idea.

The second her talons touched down on the thing’s scruff, Susie kept a strong grip. The puppet, despite its thrashing and screeching, was alarmingly easy to hold on to. He barely weighed anything. Then again, it might just be the undeniable strength flowing beneath her scales. Whatever it was, restraining the wretch wasn’t as difficult as Susie expected. "Give me your scarf," The Lightner’s voice rippled through her as she dangled the marionette far away from her face.

"M-me?" Ralsei bleated, pointing to himself.

"No. The guy behind you. YES you! Who else has a ten foot scarf??" Susie rolled her eyes, snickering playfully. She WOULD have punched Ralsei in the shoulder if not for his paper skin and glass bones. Oh yeah, and the fact she was handling a little freakazoid hellbent on bashing her friend into fine metal powder, but was that really important right now?

Ralsei slowly unwound his scarf from around his throat, cautiously eyeing Tenna as the machine-man got acclimated to reality. He seemed more concerned for the tall Darkner’s health in the moment, leading to a peculiar and unseen lack of hesitancy offering his belongings to the much taller girl.

Going the extra mile by bundling and folding it up in a neat and organized fashion, he offered it to Susie - who promptly undid all of his hard work by wrapping Spamton in said scarf like she was swaddling an unruly child. He left her side soon after, joining Kris in trying to catch the TV-man up to speed. 

"Dude, give me his arm. This is gonna be sick." She grinned as she worked, claws raking the cloth as she tightened it all. Yeah. You’re not going anywhere now bitch.

The television rose slowly to his feet and brushed off his coat. He straightened his tie and adjusted his sleeve cuffs. The routine grounded him. Gotta stay lookin’ sharp. Gotta keep that air of professionalism. Gotta be the boss, command that respect he deserved.

"Would anyone care to explain any of this to me?" Tenna asked, using the tone he did when addressing employees. Not mad, just stern. Slightly threatening. Just to put a little fear in their hearts. Keep them in line. "Why did you have him? Why is he like that?"

With her new toy now in her claw, Susie tucked Spamton under her arm - like an American football. "He’s been kinda chilling with Kris. You should ask them." She instantly pivoted the supposed anger from Tenna over to her friend, pointing at Kris, akin to ratting them out for breaking a window. They done it, not me.

Ralsei trotted up to Kris, eyes unwaveringly stuck on Tenna. "Are you-" the question of Tenna’s alright-ness had already been answered. Backstracking, backtracking…

"The uhm… your head, Mr. Tenna." He demonstrated by tracing a jagged line on the top of his left horn. Gee. Thanks, Doctor Obvious.

"I can fix it for you if you want. Looks like it hurts a lot." Already his hands had begun glowing with the color of life, emerald blossoming from somewhere beneath the skin. It seemed to ripple and ruffle through the cloudlike fur lining his wrists.

Tenna smiled gently at Ralsei’s offer. It was sweet.

"Could you, uh…" Tenna kneeled down with his hands on his knees, turning his head to show the prince the damage. "Handle this dent, first? It feels much worse." He pointed a gloved finger at the ruined plastic of his casing. He was grateful for the assistance, as the healing magic of the prince was some of the most soothing in all the Dark Worlds.

Ralsei was pleased that Tenna had silently pieced two and two together, watching as he knelt down and got to the prince's level. His horizontal irises glided over the dent and the damage embedded in the machine's plastic casing, analyzing how much effort he had to pour out. Healing didn't take long, nor would it be a tedious process like last time; in fact, it would be comically simple. Ralsei shuffled around to the side, tilting his head and letting his ears dangle loosely off the sides of his head. Briefly adjusting the glasses on his nose, he allowed for the magic to continue building up. A vague pins-and-needles sensation had begun to build up around his lower forearms as the process continued, ebbing slightly by the cold texture of bent plastic as he touched the wounded area. He shut both eyes and recited an unintelligible prayer under his breath, feeling as the mana quickly slithered through into the new owner through his fingertips. The tingling ceased altogether, and the bent segment was surrounded by a quartet of verdant sparkles.

My wrath, my WRATH. YOOOU WILLL FACE MY WRATH! UNHAND ME! RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME!!!! STOP THIS AT ONCE!!!!!!!!!

Despite his raging efforts, Spamton was horrifically swaddled against his will. Even while restrained, the wretch continued to writhe around as much as he could. Which, in all honesty, wasn't much at all. Eventually it seemed even Spamton realized this was a fruitless venture, and begrudgingly went still. While he had relaxed, that didn't mean he was happy. In fact he had visibly gone red in the face, silently grinding his teeth while glaring daggers directly in Tenna's direction. When I get out of here, you're DEAD old man. You'll be DEAD where you STAND.

Forgetting momentarily about his other injury, Tenna turned to watch the spectacle of Susie wrapping Spamton up like an angry little burrito. The television brought a hand up to his mouth and hid his snorting laugh at the ridiculous sight. It was rude to laugh… but he couldn’t help it.

"G-good work there, Susie!" He continued to hold back his chuckles. Spamton’s entire face was bright red, which Tenna was not a stranger to at all. When the Addison's temper flared, he did tend to look that way. If Tenna needed more proof that this was his former co-host, he supposed this helped. "Looks like you’ve got this under control."

Susie wasted no time in continuing her plan. This was just step one. She had a cruel— dare I say nefarious— scheme cooking in that lovely brain of hers. With Spamton now subdued and the thrashing coming to a stop, she began to look for the beast's arm. 

"Soooo angry. So scary. Oh you're sooo intimidating man." She teased, flexing her teeth for the umpteenth time as her eyes scoured and scrounged for the coveted limb. Eventually, the pale wooden appendage was located, and officially in Susie's grasp.

"Anyone got any like…. glue, or something?" She questioned in the background, receiving a confused glance from Ralsei. She began attempting to smush Spamton's arm onto his forehead, his hand forced into a rude gesture, giving him the appearance of a ventriloquist's ugly reimagination of a unicorn. A unihand? A unicorn with a hand for a horn. Ralsei pinned his ears back, heaved a sigh, waddled over, and took the arm for himself. For safekeeping.

It was Susie's turn to shoot him a confused look. Then a frown. The front of her muzzle dipped down as she eventually registered that her fun was over.

Officially, Spamton had decided he didn't like Susie very much. This was humiliating. Enraging. 

"[[westward]] WORDS FOR A [Little sponge] WHO NEARLY [Killed] AT TH3 HANDS OF [[The power of Neo!]]!!" The puppet shrieked up at the Lightner holding his hostage. 

"YOUR:E LUCKY I       ! OTHERWISE YOU'D BE [Lost in the dark, forever] AFTER I [Blast]!!"

The mockery came to an end when the green one took the detached arm back. Spamton grumbled and mumbled under his breath. Manifesting. Manifesting himself escaping from this scarf. Come on baby.

"Eastward words for the guy who’s three feet tall and missing an arm right now." Susie fired back with a grin that returned with infectious vengeance. None of what Spamton said was taken to heart, rather Susie had begun to roll with and dodge the one-armed punches jabbed at her. She snickered, toying with the idea of rage baiting the absolute snot out of this long-nosed wooden toy. "You’re soooo big and scary. Power of Neo my f-" Ralsei shot her a glare at this moment. His textbox remained empty, leaving his sprite to do the heavy lifting. "-ffffrrrrreaking ass." Susie finished, giving the puppet a little shake. To send the message. You have no Neo power here, little man.

Yeah no. They weren’t gonna get any progress done with this setup. Ralsei could see right through Susie. While he was sure there was some sick enjoyment in pawing at Spamton and getting him riled up, Ralsei knew this wouldn’t improve anything. So, he casually took the rest of the puppet from Susie’s grasp - which elicited an unimpressed "Hey!" From the girl. But the squint-eyed gaze Ralsei offered Susie was enough to send a message. There would be no ifs, ands, or buts. This was also enough to make the girl cross her arms and start sulking, facing away from the group. This sucks.

Letting Spamton be handled by Susie and Ralsei was the best bet. Now— Kris. They were the one who owed Tenna an explanation.

"Kris…?" He turned his attention to the blue one. He wished he could understand what they were feeling or thinking. "You were mentioning him before this all started, what…?" He cleared his throat. "Y’know what! I should stop asking questions! Such a silly habit of mine." The TV waved it off with an awkward laugh. "I’ll shut up and let you talk! Go on."

Tenna swallowed and plastered an uneasy smile on his face. He dreaded what Kris would say. Would they weave a story of horror? Of tragedy?

Kris hadn't budged from their spot earlier, still sitting crouched in near the wall as the others spoke amongst themselves. The Lightner got to witness as the puppet produced a brief car horn sfx out of nowhere. Though, upon further inspection it seemed to be in response to Tenna’s subdued laughter.

Alas, the spotlight fell back on them. The human stared up at Tenna blankly, just the slightest air of unease beginning to waft off of them. They gave a swallow, and glanced back down towards the floor.

*You tell Tenna you were found by Spamton in the back alley of Cyber City. 

*You say that he asked for your help in collecting something from the Queens mansion. 

*Something he thought would free him. 

*And when it didn't work, he offered to help you and your friends instead.

Kris found themself stumbling over their words briefly near the end of their explanation. They couldn't deny the event had affected them. Wandering those decrepit halls alone. The fight. The maddened, desperate offers shrieked from that aged machine's speakers. All of which were directed at them specifically.

In the end, they ended up cutting out what Spamton specifically wished to help them achieve. Short and simple.

Tenna listened with attentiveness to Kris’s explanation. All of it… didn’t stack up with what he perceived to be true.

Back alley? Like where they threw away the trash? Tenna had only been to Cyber City a handful of times, briefly for parties in the mansion, never staying overnight, so he had not witnessed the lower bits of the society. The slums. How could that be…? Spamton did NOT belong there.

Why would Spamton need the help getting into the mansion? He had… lived there. He described the room he owned to Tenna once, exaggerating its extravagance to a ludicrous degree. Tenna had known he was playing it up, embellishing, but just nodded and smiled along. It was charming.

The most unsettling bit of it all was that Spamton allegedly wanted to be freed. From what, Tenna could not begin to guess. But glancing over at the wrapped up puppet… he was in Ralsei’s arms now like a broken toy.

Something had changed him. Not just his body— He was nearly unrecognizable, of course. It was also his manner of speaking that was nearly incomprehensible, and his temperament much more wild than Tenna was accustomed to. Something had happened. Something drastic, he guessed.

Was that why he had run off, then? Not a better opportunity… but fleeing due to a crisis? Had Tenna been wrong about it all?

"Is that really the truth?" He asked Kris gently, slowly. The TV wondered if the blue teenager was pranking him. He knew they were quite the troublemaker at times. Tenna clasped his hands together nervously, glancing between all four faces. Susie had turned away to pout, so three, actually.

He clenched his teeth again in worry. Sure… he was angry at the guy, but did Tenna really want to know the story if he had been suffering greatly this whole time? It kind of made him feel bad. He had been wallowing in his own irrelevance but Spamton? He seemed to have it much worse.

Kris gazed up at Tenna with a softened look. They gave a firm nod in response. Nothing less, nothing more. Obviously, Tenna and Spamton already knew each other. It hadn't been that difficult to put the pieces together when first roaming the TV world. There'd been hints of the puppet’s presence scattered everywhere, from the vending machines to Tenna's own wailing amidst his breakdown. However the deeper story of their relationship, Kris didn't know much. They could assume Spamton had been 'normal' at some point in time. Apparently, that time was TV Time.

"WHAT?? YOU NEED A [Legal document] TO PROVE IM [Beaten and broken] [In a wet cardboard box]???" 

It seemed the rage had subsided. At least for the time being. The red had faded from his face at this point. Now from within Ralsei’s grasp, Spamton had begun shrieking his little lungs out once again. He let out a wicked cackle. The lenses in his glasses seemed to flicker and flash in his hysterics, only adding to the display.

"EHAEHAEAAHAA!!! LIKE YOU D1DN'T ALR:EADY [[By clicking this box I have read and accepted the Terms & Conditions]]!! SINGLE [Con artist] [in YOUR area]!!"

Tenna furrowed his brow at Spamton’s nonsense accusations. He was offended.

"I just wanted to make sure…" He glanced at Kris, faltering for a moment. They seemed serious. It must have been true. Their nod confirmed it. He swallowed his unease as Spamton cackled like a true maniac, the sound echoing off the walls. His fingers twitched in annoyance. If they went in circles like this…

The CRT glared at the little swaddled thing. It was strange, but he was growing in anger again just looking at the ridiculous sight.

"This is a lot for me, okay!?" Tenna suddenly snapped, gesturing wildly above his head. "I didn’t know where you had gone or— even how long it’s been! I was UNPLUGGED! For a while!" He huffed, and wrapped his arms around himself, shrinking inwards. "I think… I don’t know." That was a lie. He remembered Toriel dusting around his screen before softly sighing and yanking his cord. He doesn’t want to remember the feeling it gave him.

The crack on his screen throbbed with the effort he had put in to yell. Tenna grimaced, stopping himself for a moment to brace against the pain. When it subsided, he took a tentative step towards Ralsei, looking more directly into Spamton’s glasses and he assumed his eyes as well. He wanted to speak honestly, calmly. He took a deep breath.

"Spamton, I have wanted to see you again. And I’m not shocked that you hate me, I just didn’t think you’d want me DEAD." The TV fiddled with his tie. "Isn’t that a little overkill?" He managed a sideways smile, trying a lighthearted tone. The attempt at levity hung in the air and seemed to quickly shatter like glass the moment he pitched it. No jokes allowed here. No funny business.

Spamton was an honest man. Of course he was. Meaning, he'd speak his mind. Immediately. Without thinking about it for a second. 

"WHAT?? WHAT??? SAYS YOU!! SAYS THE [KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!] [SHOW DOMINANCE! SHOW DOMINANCE NOW!] WHAT KIND OF [Hot m@m@] DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?? [[Order within the next hour, and we'll even send you a free Tshirt!]]”

Once again, Tenna’s words were coming back to haunt him. The shouted demands echoed out of the dummy's mouth. Vengeful, somewhat frantic. 

He hated hearing his own voice parroted back at him, warped into a cruel reflection. Mocking. Insidious. Tenna growled in displeasure, hunching his shoulders. A faint tint of red appeared at the edges of his screen, a hot flush of embarrassment at his immature behavior.

"W-well! I… said that to be funny!" Flimsy ass excuse and even he knew it. It was just pettiness and bitterness. And the worst part— Spamton had really seen it all. He’d been the glasses perched on Kris’s face. Oh heavens. Oh Lord. This was thoroughly humiliating. He had been laid bare in front of the person he did not want to see.

"And… stop doing that!" Tenna barked, stomping his foot like a petulant child. "Stop using my voice! Stop advertising!"

"DON'T GET SO [up in arms]! IT:S [Heaven] THAT WANTS YOU [crush my TV for its horrible crimes!], NOT JUST ME!! IT'S NOT MY FAULT [The heros] SAVED THE [Taco Tuesday]"

Before Tenna had an opportunity to respond, Spamton seemed to pause. A realization had struck him. The words he was spitting out were actually being processed.

Up in arms.

The puppet managed to stifle his laughter for about half a second, before fully letting loose. Quickly he dissolved into hysterics all over again. Throwing his head back in maniacal laughter, a completely vacant look now visible in his lenses. 

"EHAAHEHEAAA!!! OH, [up in arms], THAT'S A GO0D ON3 ISN'T IT [scrap heap]?!? EEHAHEAHAHAHA!!!!"

The pun was not lost on the TV, and he would find it amusing if it wasn’t so disturbing. The way Spamton cackled with both too much emotion and also none at all. He wrung himself hollow with his mania. It sent a shiver through his circuits.

Tenna still continued to pout. He glared down sharply at the puppet swaddle. "Don’t call me that!" It hurt his feelings. Wounded his pride. Big time. "Address me properly!" Not that he really expected any respect from Spamton right now. He seemed too far gone for a basic request like that. Babbling feverishly about Heaven… wanting him crushed… what was that all about?

"Ralsei…?" Tenna wrung his hands and glanced up at the fluffy prince. He seemed so naked without his scarf, but he was keeping a good hold on Spamton. Keeping them all safe from the volatile thing. "Do you know what he’s talking about? I was supposed to…?"

Ralsei remained a vessel, holding Spamton’s swaddled form in front of him and idly standing there. He was stagnant, unmoving. A listener, never a direct participant of the conversation happening around him. That is just what his role was. Never overstepping, never indulging himself in the joys of a proper friendship. He was always the second choice, the backup option. Never the priority.

And that was all he ever would be.

Ralsei didn’t get the joy of stewing in his self hatred for long. His eyes darted up at the imposing figure of Tenna, soaking in his anxiety. Watching him as he twitched and fiddled, listening as he inquired and sought advice from the oracle of Delphi. Ralsei visibly looked away, tightening his grip on the marionette swaddled in his palms. "I… uhm…" the words stumbled and stuttered their way past his flattened teeth. "Well. It was eh… part of… the prophecy?" he finally squeezed the words out, carving the last of the toothpaste out of the tube. His gaze faced Susie’s pouting spine, focusing on something besides the television’s screen. Anything besides that glowing box.

How kind of Toothpaste Boy to back up Spamton's babblings, even though they hardly needed confirmation in the first place. He was an honest man! His words could be trusted! 

Spamton’s laughter had died down into low giggles by the time Ralsei spoke up. Ah, the prophecy. The prophecy! A source of madness and despair to some. Not to Spamton. While Ralsei shamefully turned his gaze, the puppet took back over. He began to rhythmically throw his head from side to side in between words. His eyes rolled around wildly within his glasses with each movement. 

"THE LORD OF-" He threw his head left. "SCREENS-" Then threw it right. "CLEAVED-" Left. "[Red]-" Right. "BY-" Left. "BLADE." 

Once again the puppet snickered and chortled. The head movements were the only free range he had at the moment, so he was going to take full advantage of it. Even if— by the time he stopped— his wretched greasy hair had become disheveled and messy. 

"IF I KNEW YOU WERE [[For whom the bell tolls]] WHEN YOU [begged and pleaded at your doorstep], I WOULD'V>  E E [Payment declined: authentication error]. HAH!! THEN MAYBE I'D STILL BE A [Big Shot]!! AND YOU:D BE THE ONE [Crying] IN A [recycling bin] WITH YOUR [Pot & Pan Frans] AND YOUR [Slime Time]!!! [Disarmed!] [Disarmed!] [Disarmed!] [Hyperlink Blocked]"

Eugh. 

The puppet was so insufferably EAGER to gloat about this. An ancient prophecy, foretelling his DEATH? REALLY?

Tenna listened to the words carefully. Each one was emphasized by Spamton’s wriggling, and that made it easy to decipher, for once. It lent a rhythm to the phrase, making it clear.

THE LORD OF SCREENS CLEAVED RED BY BLADE. 

That’s what he had heard. Not a metaphor. Not a joke. It certainly was accurate. ‘Lord’ was even a little flattering.

Ralsei’s guilty head turn told him it had to be true. The little prince was unwilling to admit he had known all along. Is that why he had tried to soothe Tenna’s worry about being thrown away, telling him it was only natural? He had really thought Tenna was going to…

Something nagged at him about it.

"Well— I’m not hearing any part of this prophecy that says I wasn’t going to recover from being, uh… ‘Cleaved Red!’" The TV turned his nose up in pouty protest as he threw his hands into air quotes. He elected to ignore how Spamton once again blamed their partnership for his strange downfall— one that Tenna knew nothing about. He could yell again that it wasn’t his fault, but he felt that would fall upon deaf ears once more.

Another screaming match wasn’t really on his docket for today.

Ralsei remained quiet. He didn't intervene. He didn't say anything. He stood there. There was nothing he could do or say to soothe the ocean as it gurgled and boiled angrily. Nothing he could do to smooth the wrinkles in the cloth. He could tell Tenna was greatly displeased, the TV had a tendency to reveal his emotions and lay them bare through the slight changes in his tone of voice, the tiniest way it wavered as he gestured and gesticulated wildly. The prince didn't have to stare at him to understand the symphony of feelings ricocheting all over Tenna. It was all in the audio.

Tenna sighed, full of self pity for the millionth time that day. He was exhausted. He’d been through a lot, just in the last hour. The crack on his face ached, his joints were stiff once more, especially on his shoulder sockets where the arms had been reattached.

Maybe if Kris and the others managed to coax Spamton down to a more reasonable state, he would take the time to speak to him. But right now, just trying to piece together his fragmented speaking and glitching was taking a mental toll.

"I… I’d like to take a rest. If it isn’t too much trouble!" He bowed his head to Ralsei in thanks for housing him. "No late night programme from me tonight. Sorry everyone."

They were all exhausted. Today hadn't been as lovely as Ralsei had hoped. It was nowhere near the idea he'd mentally laid out for himself. Ralsei pried his eyes away from the wall and eventually rested them on Tenna, offering a weak, guilt-tinged smile. Just in time to see the tiny bow. "That's uhm. That's alright! We can…. we can start over again tomorrow, easy peasy." Already Ralsei had begun to mentally scramble on how to start making repairs. While it was absolutely hopeless to fix anything today, there was hope for a brighter, better tomorrow. Maybe everyone just needed a little bit of shut-eye— Lightners included. A reset would do them good.

"Oh, it’s no trouble at all - I’ll walk you up to your room. How does that sound?" The Prince delicately offered, eyeing the castle looming in the outer shell of his peripheral vision.

It was very lucky that Susie hadn’t been paying much attention— actually. Where did she go? With the attention having returned to her for a short moment, it was evidently clear that the back Ralsei had been staring at was actually… cardboard?

A loose gust of wind trickled through, letting the mimic teeter and totter for a moment before falling flat. Yep. No Susie. Just a cardboard cutout in the vague shape of Susie. The facade melted away in an instant, only for a set of footsteps to return at the tail’s end of Tenna’s statement. With a comically sized paper bucket - one that she had to drag behind her, mind you - in hands, Susie paused and dug her arm deep into the pit, retrieving a fistful of popcorn. 

"Oh, we’re leaving?" She questioned, stuffing her mouth full of buttery deliciousness. Chewing audibly for a whole thirty seconds, she swallowed and continued. "Sweet. You can go do your grandpa nap-" she pointed to Tenna with her free hand, while the other buried itself in her meal once more. "-and we’re gonna head back. Sound fair?"

Freedom. Freedom. He'd never have to interact with this termite of a TV again. He'd left his mark. Literally and figuratively. He took pride in the crack he'd made, even if it was a thin one. A mere taste of the fate Tenna truly deserved, but it would have to do. His cards were calling him. The pocket called him. That clown was an irritable loose cannon, but by god, would Spamton take him over the Cathode. Besides, he had a card game to get back to. He had a winning hand in his pocket. His first win was waiting for him, he could feel it. And nothing was going to stop him from getting to experience it.

"FINALLY!!! KRIS! [Release me!] FROM [The confines]!! IT"S [[Time]] TO [clock in] FOR MY SHIFT AT [The] [dafence facory]" 

The puppet wriggled around a bit, eager to be unswaddled. A quick collection of his missing hand, and he'd be ready to help his Lightner friend once more. 

Susie already knew she didn’t like this guy. She knew the feeling had to be mutual - she could smell it. Literally. This guy smelled like shit. It was horrifying. Get her away from him.

"Actually." Susie interjected, staring directly at Kris, hoping they’d comply with whatever she said, hoping they’d follow in her footsteps in setting this whole thing up. Her eyes bore that violent glint, dancing in the yellow depths. Sparkling with an intense urge to be as big of a nuisance as possible. It was one of the few things she was exceptional at. "No."

Her gaze soon shifted to the swaddled wretch, grinning from ear to ear. Teeth marred with kernels, stained with butter and tiny tidbits of drool.

A low rumble had gradually risen from the bottom of her stomach up to the top of her lungs. She burst into a short fit of laughter, covering her upper head with her arm as her jaws snapped at the air with every guffaw. She had an idea alright. A pretty good one. A way to get payback without attacking the palesman physically.

"What you’re gonna do—" she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. "- is stay here, and make up with your ex." Mic drop.

Tenna folded his hands behind his back and dropped his expression to something neutral and pleasant as Ralsei offered to walk him. He nodded.

"That would be nice, Thank Y—"

He was cut off by Susie’s noisy rearrival. He smiled fondly at the monster teen, her carefree tone making him feel more grounded. Tenna sent her a snappy thumbs up when she pointed at him.

They’d take Spamton along and he wouldn’t have to see him anymore. He would put it back into the locked confines of his mind where it belonged. Where it would fester forever until it exploded again. In a matter of years, or something. Who really knew.

Then Susie denied Spamton his wishes. Then she said that.

Tenna felt it instantly. His screen wiped across with a bright red filter, his fans kicking into top speed. Make up with his WHAT?? It wasn’t even close to factual, and the idea of it had the TV mortified beyond belief. He dropped his mouth open and stuttered out a single little dialogue beep. Gah.

What.

In an instant the puppet froze, completely and entirely. An audible record scratch seeped out of the Darkner as he sat there stiff as a board. Not even Ralsei shifting the scarf could budge him from his place in mid-air.

What. 

What.

"What."

Stunned utterly beyond thought, Spamton managed to speak without shrieking his lungs out. Just this once. 

What.

Finally he snapped out of this frozen state, his form corrupting and turning into mush. Reduced to pixels, he abruptly clipped right through the scarf swaddle, and landed on the floor with a clatter.

"WHAT? WHAT?? WHAT?!???!" As Spamton's form rearranged itself, he hauled himself back up onto his feet. Very quickly he came to a realization: he had hardly walked properly at all in the last ten years. Why would he have? Why worry about relying on your own body weight when you're always being held up by something? Why go one step at a time when you can just glide along the ground, dragging your feet against the pavement? 

But there weren't strings to drag him anymore. 

What followed looked almost like a drunken stupor. Or perhaps, an imitation of the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. Perhaps even a combination of the two. Blindly taking awkward, exaggerated steps forward, both arms outstretched, wildly swinging around every time he began to wobble. A tightrope walker with no tightrope, rushing along in anything but a straight line. 

"KRIS!!! KRIS!!! YOU CAN'T [Listen to their words]!! YOU CAN:T LEAVE ME [At the curb]!!!! OUT [High and dry]!!! [[Bleached]] AT THE [Beach]!!! KRIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Once again, the desperate dumpster diver Kris had met in the back alley stood before them. Wailing and pleading in a voice so pathetically hopeless. Desperate to strike a bargain, any bargain. 

Kris stood beside the stairwell, watching the dummy shamble his way over like a three-legged circus performer. He certainly tripped over his own feet like he had three legs. Despite this the Lightner brought their gaze back up towards Susie instead. No words were passed on, only a short-lived, subtle nod. Then, they looked back down to Spamton.

*You tell Spamton he can stay here in Castle Town for a little while. 

*You reassure him that you will return to pick him up later.

This, unfortunately, did not elicit any relief. 

"WHAT?!?!!? YOU [Can't believe it's margine!]!!? KRIS!!!!1! YOU CAN'T!!! THEY'LL [Killed] ME! THEY'LL [Kick] ME INTO THE [[Three-Point shot]]!!! THEYLL SHOOT ME WITH [Bullets] AND [Cowpokes]!!! THEY'LL [Extend] ME!!! THEY'LL [Putted] ME ON THE [Crank] AND THEY'LL [Stretch me thin] [[On live TV!]] KRIS!!!!!"

On and on the pleas went. By this point Spamton was right up in poor Kris’s face, gripping onto their chestplate like his life depended on it.

The TV host couldn’t even simmer in his own internal panic attack, because Spamton began to violently have an external one. Tenna took a step back and even brought an arm out to shield Ralsei as the creature ripped through reality. The overheating in his system remained, fear coursing through him.

As the little puppet struggled to walk, to move in a manner that did not look painful and strained, Tenna’s mechanical heart squeezed in horror and pity. It was akin to watching a wounded animal. And the way he begged and pleaded. The ideas his sick mind came up with. It just hurt the CRT, deep down. He mourned, in a way. He thought of how his partner used to be. Not this shell.

Tenna grit his teeth and looked down at Ralsei for guidance. He jutted a thumb silently at the stairwell as Spamton carried on and on, indicating that maybe they should just… go. Let the Lightners handle it. 

The begging and pleading continued. The longer it stretched on, the more incoherent it became. Eventually Kris made the call to act. They reached up, tightly gripping the shrieking puppet by the scruff and peeling him off of their chest. It was like trying to pull a cat off of something. He was stubborn. Weaving those exposed wires tightly around the edge of their chestplate until, one by one, they popped loose and separated the two.

A decision was placed before them. And it was also decided for them. They could sense the call being made deep within, bubbling upwards into words. 

*You promise Spamton that you will return. 

*You suggest he takes the opportunity to enjoy his cut strings. 

Well. That shut him up.

The writhing stopped. The begging and the pleading stopped. Slowly, Spamton went limp in Kris’s hands. It was frankly hard to read his emotions in the moment. Granted, that was implying they were ever easy to read in the first place. 

As the television stepped up the stairwell, he could not help but hang onto Susie’s words. He’d tell her soon that… It never came close to that. Even if… he had considered it, sometimes. Small thoughts in the dark, in the quiet… not spoken aloud. In the poignant moments between drinks, between shows, between long drags of a cigarette. Drunken confessions of weakness in late nights spent on the couch. Surrounded by the schedule, half finished scripts, that month’s budget… all ignored in favor of smiles a little too wide, laughs a little too loud, and hands a little too close to one another. Safety and comfort and camaraderie he had never experienced before— or since.

But nothing had actually occurred. It was merely something Tenna had fleeting fantasies of. 

He’d pushed it down, long long ago. Gone. Goodbye.

Time for bed.

With the puppet subdued, Kris gently placed him down on the floor. Even when released he remained unresponsive. He just sat there. Blank. 

Crisis averted, perhaps.

Wordlessly, Kris turned on their heel and began the march back out. Goodbye for now, old man.

Chapter Text

Art by Mink

The dressing room door exploded open with a resounding BANG, a large yellow shoe kicking it open. Tenna stomped through, entering, twisting viciously to slam it behind him. Every footstep rattled his furniture and the walls. He muttered, he grumbled. He paced like a caged animal with a cigarette to his projected lips, smoke pouring from the vents on the sides of his casing. The insides of his head would be coated in dust and ash, but he’d deal with it when he could think straight.

The studio— no, the entirety of TV World itself seemed to fall into a hush when this type of episode occurred. Their normally bright and optimistic host reaching the limits of his temper caused a black cloud to cast everywhere. All employees treaded lightly, only using whispered tones and hiding away in sequestered rooms. No one wished to draw his ire.

Give him his space, they knew. Do not poke this bear. He’d show his claws. He’d blame the entire world (and himself) for the mistake that was bothering him. He would lash out blindly. He would cry.

Tenna wrenched his red tailcoat off and chucked it at the sofa. He loosened his tie with a violent tug. Nothing felt right at this moment, all sensations jagged and strange, everything seemed to go wrong. The show. The show wasn’t good enough. If the audience wasn’t eating out of his hands, he was failing. If he flubbed a line, he had failed.

The TV pounded an angry fist on his desk, sending pens clattering to the floor and papers fluttering about. He spotted the oh-so-important contract he had been drafting up for weeks and snatched it before it touched the floor. Can’t have that one getting dirty.

What was wrong with him, truly? Tenna was BUILT for this! A show should not go poorly! His ratings should NOT drop! It wasn’t his fault if sometimes he couldn’t keep up with the shifting trends! What did they expect? He was a television, not a mind reader. 

Tenna flicked ash off of his cigarette and glared at himself in the mirror. 

DO NOT BECOME TRASH. EVERYONE LOVES TV.

Just as he was taking a deep breath to calm himself, of course— the door had to open.

"Could you BOTHER to knock?" He turned around, snarling, voice cracking like a whip.

Oh. Wait. It was him.

Standing in the doorway was a figure most could identify as an outsider of TV World, and yet he was more welcome than some of the actual employees were. A headset and mic sat draped across his shoulders, resting upon a slick, red blazer that matched the one laying abandoned on the couch. One hand, concealed within a bright yellow glove, gripped a clipboard. The other balled itself into a fist in order to give the opened door a late courtesy knock. 

"My bad. Lag spike." The words came out smoothly, holding that same charisma Spamton always managed to speak with. The term was some Cyber City slang. Though Spam had been gracious to try and explain in TV terms when he first started visiting, Tenna still didn’t really get it. 

The Addison seemed to hold himself in the doorway for a moment, scanning the room through contently-closed eyes. 

While Tenna thought he wanted to be left well enough alone, just hearing the voice of someone calmer than he, had him faltering on that idea. He glared at the embers of his cigarette, scoffing.

"Now, I've got a hunch. And it's sayin' you might not be too pleased with tonight's show." 

Spamton's free hand reached up for his collar and began to loosen his own yellow tie. In a much more gentle fashion than Tenna had, mind you. He took a few more steps into the room, using his heel to gently kick the door shut behind him. 

"Hey. I'm no electrician though." Once the tie had released its grip around his throat, he gave an exaggerated shrug. "What says you?"

There was caution in his actions, in his words. Spamton was never a Darkner to respect personal space or boundaries when he was comfortable. But, the smart man he was, he knew Tenna well. He knew when it was time to hold his breath. He, and possibly he alone, bore the tools to properly tame the beast on the other side of the room.

"What clued you in?" Tenna replied, voice dripping with sarcastic bitterness. The TV collapsed onto the sofa with zero grace, huffing with frustration. "The fact that everyone could see I was off my game?" Tenna threw his hands around as he worked himself up into a panicked frenzy once more. He smoothed his antennae back on his head, a nervous tic.

Every little mistake. Every tiny error. They all ticked the ratings down. The Lightners didn’t look his way. The audience liked him less and less. He could see it playing out before him.

"They’re all just waiting for me to— to fail. Praying on my downfall— I know it!" His hands shook as he took another long drag from the cigarette. Calm down. Looking like a twitching maniac in front of Spamton was embarrassing. The Addison normally kept his cool, always knew what words to say. Tenna was coming apart at the seams compared to him.

"You get it, don’t you? When we’re this big— the balance is so, so… delicate!"  Finishing the cigarette, he angrily snuffed it out in his ashtray on the table in front of him. Smoke puffed out of his vents like the breath of an angry bull. "What can I even do? How can we get ratings up when things are so…"

The family had been busy. Kris and Azzy were bigger, going to school more… Asgore worked late nights on duty for the Police… Toriel too. She’d taken back up being a school teacher. He was left to gather dust. Forgotten. For hours. Weekends were his only solace.

Tenna put his head in his hands and leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. He breathed, his shoulders rising and falling slower, anger starting to cool into something more like melancholy.

As Tenna spilled his sorrows, Spamton seemingly took that as the cue to advance. Wordlessly he sauntered over to the coffee table. The clipboard clattered down first, followed soon after by the headset that was just peeled from the Addison's shoulder and dropped on top. To complete the trilogy, Spamton dropped himself onto the opposite end of the couch. His pose was far more casual, sprawled slouched with his weight up against the armrest. His faint glow shined and reflected off the leather of the couch. A mix of the red of his jacket, and the yellowy-white of his skin. He'd been more yellow in the face when they first met. Gradually he'd been shifting, a process Spamton had assured him was a natural change for his kind. 

When Tenna did speak again, it was more of a worried whimper, the venom behind his earlier tone stripped away.

"You don’t think I’m behind the times, do you?"

"You wanna know what I think?" Spam slid a hand into his pocket, pulling free a box of his own cigarettes. Pulling one out with his teeth revealed the distinct blue-green twinge of a Cyber City cig. His preference, for obvious reasons.

"I think you're pushing yourself too damn hard, Tens." 

Out came a lighter, and the Addison lit up. A teal-blue blocky flame came forth from the wretched stick, and Spamton took a pause to inhale before he continued speaking. Pixelated smoke soon began to intermingle in the air with the smoother smoke from Tenna’s cig.

"It's how you creative types always are. Pushin' for the best of the best every time you do somethin'. An, you'll hate me for sayin' this, but your issue is that you just beat yourself up too much when that doesn't happen. Y'know?"

He shuffled around a little, attempting to get more comfortable. One leg came up to cross over the other.

Spamton was right. Well, Spamton was often right, irritatingly. Tenna had almost come to expect this, the little Addison had this sort of… uncanny wisdom. The television had no idea where it came from— how this Darkner he had gotten lucky enough to partner up with was so…

Well, whatever.

"I do, don’t I." Tenna turned his head downwards in shame, his screen dimming. He didn’t hold it against Spamton for telling the truth. He was the only one brave enough to say it to his screen directly.

The CRT laughed bitterly. He was so in his own head about this… afraid to ask anyone what they thought out of fear it was all true. It was just…! He used to be so popular! Watched all day and night! They played games! Picked movies! He was a fixture of the household! A guardian, a companion! A member of the family!

The Lightners were growing up, but Tenna couldn’t. He had to stay the same.

"I just wish I could… adapt to this new world that’s showing up." All the cyber Darkners, Spamton included, talked about things he was far from being able to understand. They buzzed with a jargon he yearned to parse through. He wanted to learn— but it felt like nothing stuck. Tenna wasn’t built for the new fangled internet bizz.

"I can’t. That’s why…" He might as well take this opportunity to bring it up again. Tenna picked his head up and examined the Addison sitting across from him. "I really need you on the show, Spam. If I don’t modernize, I…" Here came the panic again. Tenna gripped his hands into tight fists. He could see his whole world crashing around him— audience gone, the stage a wreck, cameras off.

"Hey." 

Spamton snapped his fingers near Tenna a few times, his brow furrowed only slightly. It was a bit impressive he'd gotten the hang of snapping with gloves on so quickly. He'd only started wearing them within maybe the last month. In fact they'd practically become a staple of his image by now. The story he told Tenna was that he wanted to help them match a little more. Tenna practically looked naked without those big, cartoony gloves on. 

"Don't go melting down on me again, Cathode. Focus!" The Addison held his outstretched hand out in front of him, held in a sort of 'hold it' pose. The tone was inherently lighthearted. There were hints of a sly little look on his face. The tensions had been easing, and he seemed determined to keep them on that route.

"Go sit on the floor and curl yourself into a pretzel. I heard that calms yer nerves. Or just have another cig. Do a line. Whatever you need, man. Just…" 

The raised hand lowered itself down to the empty spot on the couch between them. His voice softened.

"Cool it, alright? We'll get there." 

The blue cigarette had been resting in between his fingers as Spamton gave his reassurance. This was the midway point, the intermission, where he brought it back to his lips for another drag. The suspenseful hold on silence right before a great reveal. It was like he was born for the stage. The audience would eat a performance like this up. 

Spamton blew out another cloud of smoke, and continued on. 

"These things take time. But someday, someday soon, I'll be up there with you, alright? Two Big Shots, blowin' the whole world away."

Tenna found himself smiling.

It was funny how simply his words of reassurance made him feel better. They could have been lies, or empty platitudes, but Tenna liked to be told he was good, or that everything would be okay. 

He watched the blue smoke rise from Spamton’s cigarette and the strange reflection it made in his dark sunglasses. The rings on his porcelain white fingers glinted in the dressing room light.

"Care to share one of those…?" Tenna asked, pointing. Cyber World cigarettes had a different burn. More sharp. More interesting.

As he accepted one from the Addison, he thought about the deal they were drafting up. It was true, the time wasn’t right yet. But…

"I can’t wait for it," He said as he pulled his lighter from his pocket. A giddy smile wormed its way across his screen. "We’re the funniest guys around when we’re brainstorming— imagine that on the stage? They’ll be falling out of their seats, Spam!" He bounced a little on the couch cushion, excited. "I’ll make the classic jokes, you handle the new ones. It’ll balance out so perfectly that— that no one will be able to look away."

Tenna stood from his seat abruptly. Now with the bottle in his hand— another thing to calm the nerves still making their way out of him— He showed it to Spamton, and poured into the two glasses.

Now, with alcohol and a cigarette clasped in one hand, he leaned backwards on the sofa, more visibly relaxed.

That iconic Spamton Smirk had finally cracked, broadening into a big, toothy grin. A greedy grin, if you will.

He'd been giving a lot more of those lately. It hadn't been too long ago he admitted his Great Shame. Spamton’s deepest, darkest secret: he didn't like that little tooth gap he had. He thought it looked silly. Undermined whatever authority he was able to hold. But Tenna had reassured him. Told him that it wasn't hardly as bad as he thought. Maybe he'd actually taken those words to heart. 

"Until that happens, I'll be in yer ear givin' you another leg to stand up on. Have I let you down yet so far?"

Tenna tilted his head towards his business partner as he spoke, eyeing his silly little smirk with his silly little gap tooth. He was glad Spamton had trusted him enough to voice the insecurity about it. It made them feel closer than anyone. "You haven’t… I trust you." He replied honestly, frankly.

"Go on— interview me. Your own talk show segment with you as the host. Let’s practice. Make jokes if you want. I can handle anything!  me!" He threw back his first glass and grinned, giving jazz hands at his final words.

"Jeez. Someone's feelin’ generous. Makin’ ME the host?" Spamton chuckled a little. He took a swig of the drink. 

Now Spamton had the floor. He tilted the glass around in his hand, swirling its contents. Intermittently he'd tap his fingernails against its surface. Spiced static. Finely aged. It had a certain shock to it. Like putting your forehead against a screen and feeling that buzz. 

"Y’know I'm no good at that stuff. That's why it's YOUR job."

Tenna poured himself more to drink, the liquid shimmering as Spamton voiced his self doubt. He chuckled at the compliments thrown his way. The mailman was an expert at buttering him up. Tenna saw right through his little tactics, but he wouldn’t protest.

"It’s just for this little exercise. Don’t get used to it, Big Shot. Besides, we’ll be talking about me." He smiled widely, showing his fangs.

He dangled the glass like a pendulum from his large hand, smiling just so, like he was on camera. Perfectly calm, not too exaggerated, nice and natural and welcoming. He crossed one long leg over the other. 

Spamton’s grin seemed to widen a bit. He brought his little black comb out of his pants pocket and up to his mouth like it was a microphone. 

"Tell me, Tens. I've heard this rumor hundreds of times. Is it true your first words were a 45-minute monologue? Is it true you thanked the doctors for being such a wonderful sponsor after your birth?" 

Spamton then pointed the comb in Tenna’s direction. His cue to tell the daring truth. The latest scoop. Come on, Mr. TV. Give us the juicy details.

It was all Lightner comedy, of course. Concepts foreign to that of a Darkner. But that's what made them comedic. They were inherently absurd concepts to someone conceived from magic.

Tenna’s antennae perked up in fake surprise at the question, and he feigned being offended.

"Excuse me— that is… highly personal!" With a heavy dramatic sigh, he turned towards his fake audience. "But you’re all dying to know, aren’cha folks? Fine! You yanked my dials enough! The rumors are founded. But the monologue was only 40 minutes. I was just a little ray tube, after all!"

The TV leaned into Spamton’s comb as he spoke. It smelled like the yellow Addison’s hair gel. Suffocating.

He once again quickly finished off his second glass. The faster this stuff got in his system, the less he would think about the strange sense of dread pounding the back of his casing. 

Then, his glass was full again. He hadn’t seen Spamton move, but he must have topped him off. Tenna blinked at it. Down the hatch!

Spamton stifled a chuckle, clenching his eyes shut even harder than usual as he attempted to hold in a wave of laughter. Quickly he brought the comb-mic back to himself. 

"Jeez. Talk about a chatterbox." Spam quipped. He gazed out towards the nonexistent audience with that smug look. "I've heard of people being born for showbiz, but this guy's ridiculous!"

At this point the Addison had sat up in his seat, fully invested into the little bit they were doing. The interview only came to a brief halt when Spamton noticed a strand of bright yellow hair had loosened itself from the pack, dangling in front of his face. Quickly the ‘mic’ returned to its original job, and combed back the loose strand. Returned to the rest of its glowing, golden flock.

"It's a bit impressive, frankly." Once again he spoke into the mic. "You've been doing the same show for what…Ten? Fifteen Lightner years? And ya never once talk about being bored of the stage. What keeps that drive goin'? A lotta people would've gotten burnt out at some point, but not you." 

Once again the comb was brought back to Tenna. Spamton took the intermission as an excuse to down the rest of his drink all in one shot. For a moment he grimaced a little. Must've been a little bit too much at once. 

For a split second, his form collapsed. Breaking apart, scattering into bits in the air. Before anyone could blink he was back together. His pixelated edges were as sharp as they always had been.  Regardless, he pushed on, wordlessly shaking it off and returning his focus back to Tenna. 

Tenna beamed at Spamton’s effortless and natural charm. He laughed, a bit sharper and louder than intended, the liquor hitting him. He was no lightweight considering his size, so that was odd. His head felt fuzzy. Spamton looked fuzzy. His bright yellow glow was blinding and hazy. The typical Addison uniform of black sweater and green pants swam into swaths of pulsing color in front of Tenna’s metaphorical eyes. He had to get the little guy into something more flashy.

He just couldn’t stop laughing. Joy tore through him. He leaned back towards the microphone and giggled with a hiccup into it as he answered the next question.

"I’m built for it, of course! It’s my one and only passion in life. And then the wonderful fans. How could I let them all down by quitting?" His voice echoed back to him.

Tenna gazed into the audience. The seats were empty, of course, rows and rows of dark velvet. The stage lights were down, but it was very easy to pretend. Tenna was used to pretending. He just imagined the praise, instead.

"But of course! Mr. Ant Tenna never lets ANYONE down. Not his audience, not his employees, and especially not his partner." 

The desk was too big for him, as was the seat. He seemed small sitting there. Shrunken. 

"After all, we're in this for the long run. Right Tenna?" 

There was something... oddly sinister about his tone. He sounded almost a bit hoarse. The words came snaking their way through his teeth, the grin on his face big and wide. It almost seemed fake in a way. That big grin parred with what nearly sounded like restrained anger. 

Tenna once again turned a smile to Spamton, sitting behind the host desk with his glass of static. His large, unbroken grin… his rosy painted cheeks. The dim light cast two long shadows behind him, their faces smiling at Tenna too, their pink and yellow eyes boring him down.

The TV swallowed, something horrible curling in his chest, but he was too drunk to care. He smothered the feeling and laughed, and laughed.

He appreciated Spamton’s words. It was nice to be assured that someone had his back, in the end. They were each other’s safety nets.

The microphone was held out for the TV. But there wasn't an opportunity to respond. Tenna was going to answer that it would be until the bitter end, and suggest they toast to it, but… 

Suddenly there was a ring.

The office walls rattled with the noise. It was high pitched, shrill, insistent. He gripped the couch cushion for dear life, folding his antennae flat on his head at the unpleasantness.

But he didn’t actually hear it.

Spamton lowered the comb, gazing up towards the office door. His grin faltered, however it never fully died. Even with the sunglasses obscuring his eyes, one could pretty easily spot his dark brows creasing with worry. 

"Of course. Always at the time when it's least convenient." The remark came with a sarcastic lightheartedness to it. Spamton slung back the last swallow of his drink, then pulled himself up to his feet. The walls seemed duller. The stars that glazed their way across the green gradient flickered and stumbled on their route. The air was stale. Silent.

"Tens, I gotta take this. You can handle yerself, can't you?" 

Already Spamton was working his way around the coffee table, and heading for the door. Still he gazed back at Tenna as he moved, jerking a gloved thumb towards the hallway.

Spamton was always answering that damn phone. It was like he always knew when it was ringing. He treated it with utmost importance, but never said why. Tenna could only guess who was on the other line, and if it was some sort of emergency calls or important business. He knew Spamton had someone with lots of knowledge about the business world on the other end. That was clear. His ‘benefactor’, he’d said.

"Oookayyy…" Tenna slurred out, rocking his head back and forth sluggishly. "But don’t… taaaake too long, Spamton! Spammyyyy!!" He was wasted. He chuckled giddily, like a schoolgirl. He would have been embarrassed if he had the clarity to.

The world shuddered with each step Spamton took towards the door, and Tenna was suddenly struck with yet another feeling of panic. No.     Wait.

Wait 

wait  !

He couldn’t. leave!

"Hold on—" The television stumbled off the couch and dropped his drink. It hovered in the air where his hand had been, liquid frozen like a paused movie. He caught himself on the ground with his hands, breathing hard. Tenna scrambled across the floor towards the mailman, the room getting longer and longer as he went. "Don’t GO! YOU CAN’T!"

The back of Spamton’s retreating form was all he could see. Shadows swallowed the rest of the world.   the walls fell to nothing. Only the Addison, haloed by glowing static.

Not again, not again.

This time he’d stop him.

Tenna stretched his arm out, extending it to its very limit, feeling strain on the metal joint, almost popping it right out of its socket…

And gripped the small wrist of his     friend?

It was cold and hard. It twisted in his grip, and… 

came off.

Snap.

The air was thin. Spamton's form had come to a silent pause, hunched in heavy shadow, backlit by the blinding light of the hallway. His arm swung wildly like a flag in the wind, once the force of Tenna's grip released. There was no gore or viscera that spilled from his sleeve when the hand broke away. Only strings. A bundle of bright green strings that waved in the air. 

There was no reaction to this amputation. No screams of pain, no outcries of anger. He was unresponsive. 

Except…

"Now, Scrap heap..."

A new nickname slithered out from Spamton's lips, one he'd never used before. His voice was low. Growing raspier by the second. It didn't seem to come out right. Like he had a bad speaker for a voicebox.

"...I don't think you>re following the script, here."

This wasn’t what had happened. Spamton had left. And Tenna had let him do so. 

"Going for a bit of, improv?" 

And then he began to chuckle. 

Without any notice the shape of Tenna’s friend snapped to attention, rigidly standing upright like some sort of machine. Then his head turned with a terrible creak. Fast. Further than it should be able to. Until it was on fully backwards, glaring Tenna down with a manic grin. Spamton's features were contorting, shifting. Sharpening, hardening. Until the face staring him down was that of wood. That of a puppet. With painted-on rosy cheeks, and a hinged jaw. His grin continued to widen. He had new glasses, ones that beamed bright yellow and pink searchlights in the TVs direction.

Quickly the chuckling turned into an insane uproar of laughter. Wooden creaks and clicks leeched out of Spamton’s form as his body twitched and shuddered through the hysterics. His arms jerked up, twisting backwards and grabbing at Tenna's shirt. His remaining hand had become wooden, articulated joints that cracked and squeaked with their movements. The other arms exposed strings wove themselves into Tenna’s clothing, creating a more than solid grip. 

The puppet creature yanked him forward, cackling madly into the TV’s screen. He was taller than him now, looming over Tenna as he continued to laugh and laugh.

Tenna dropped the disembodied hand, watching it sink soundlessly into the floor. As Spamton’s bright green strings lashed out and wormed their way under his jacket and tightened themselves around his body, he felt fear overtake his very core. They coiled around his neck, arms and chest. Tenna found he could not move a single part of himself, frozen in this state, staring helplessly at the grotesque metamorphosis of his dear friend.

No, that… it wasn’t his friend. It was a demon. A creature of pure evil. Something from the darkest dark. It creaked like an old wooden table, it cackled like a villainous doll, it grew and grew and grew. Unhinged jaw, empty eyes.

He whispered a cry for help. He whispered, rasped out the names of his loyal crew. Lanino..! Elnina…! Ramb…! Mike…!

His chest burned.

Spamton…!

Spamton would come back to save him. He’d finish up his phone call and return, cut these strings away. Tenna trusted him. Tenna trusted him more than anyone.

The entity convulsed and vomited up black, an oil-like substance pouring from its grin that began to overtake them both. Tenna shook, he shivered. That was all he could do. His head pounded with static and noise, his antennae convulsed with a bombardment of signals. The strings tightened further, crushing him. Suffocating him.

No one was coming for him. He was alone. Alone again. Alone alone alone

MakeitstopMakeitstopMakeitSTOP!

He jolted awake with a loud bang and a gasp of air through his vent. His body shot upright. Tenna’s vision swam, his head spun, his fans whirred at maximum speed.

Just… just a nightmare.

His bedroom was dark and quiet. Mostly. He thought he heard a little shuffling noise. Getting his bearings… The room was far more crowded than it was the last time Tenna had awoken within its walls. Not long after the Lightners had left, a trip had been made to haul some of the stuff retrieved from TV World up to Tenna’s room. Whatever the Darkner deemed important enough to keep now lay in boxes scattered across the floor, intermingled with a few bits of furniture. There was shuffling coming from within the open drawer of the bedside table. That, and obvious rummaging coming from an open box nearest to the door. Movement. Vague talking. At least, there was, until Tenna’s degaussing alerted the intruders of his presence. 

"[Damnit, it's the fuzz! Scram!!]"

Spamton’s voice. Not the shrieking, glitchy mess that spilled from that puppets mouth. No. The voice that had come from Spamton the Addison’s mouth. A voice that was sane, normal. 

In an instant there was a scramble. Tiny little things with glowing pink and yellow eyes, dropping from boxes in the dark. Maybe six or seven of them in total. They scrambled for the door like a bunch of little maice. Some on their own, some carrying objects. One hoisted a mini golden statue of Tenna over his head, a little award. Sure wouldn’t want to use that as a blunt object. The last one to escape was dragging a yellow tie with it, a tail comically longer than the actual creature. 

And just like that, the room had fallen still again. At least, for a good five seconds. Then, a tiny head popped out from the drawer beside Tenna. 

"[Huh? What'd I miss.]"

In the glow of the TV’s screen, this one was identifiable. Inside the drawer was a miniature, blue tinted, simplified copy of Spamton. A Pipis. Ironically, it looked far more fleshy than the puppet did. It gazed out into the rest of the room, somehow oblivious to the giant TV man sitting up in bed beside it.

Tenna pulled his blankets up further, gathering the material in his gloved fists. The little scuttering creatures leaving the room really were like a small hoard of maice, but their blue color was prickling something in the back of his memory. And— that voice.

His display flickered in surprise. It was the same voice he had just heard in his dream— the tone of a regular businessman, smooth, practiced and… sane.

The TV startled at the little blue head popping out of the drawer. He froze, leaning his body away from it, stifling his yelp of surprise. 

It… it looked just like the mailman. It really did. It had on the same glasses Kris had been holding onto, paired with the long nose and slicked back hairstyle, the blue miniature was quite the uncanny spitting image. Tenna leaned closer, peering at it. His screen brightened, casting a light on it. The blue color really was so… familiar…

Wait a moment.

Tenna turned his body around, searching. On his way up to his room earlier, when he was preparing to shut off for a while, he had found her. His little darling. She was still resting on his extra pillow, safe and sound, her round shape perfectly shining. Tenna smiled.

Same shade of blue.

Interesting.

He cleared his throat, turning back to the Pipis, which he now was sure was what the tiny Spamton imposter was. The fact that they were looting around in his things made it quite clear what was going on. He could put the pieces together, easily.

"Excuse me," Tenna muttered, sharply, businesslike. He reached out two deliberate fingers and plucked the Pipis from the drawer. "You seem to be invading my private quarters." He held it like an unwelcome insect in front of his screen, inspecting the thing with his own antennae. Smells like Pipis, indeed.

By the time the Pipis realized it had been found, it was too late. The little blue beast let out a little yelp as it was picked up, beginning to squirm around a little. NOT a good time to get caught. 

"[Hey-hey-hey! Watch where you're stickin' those things, Ant!]” The pipis wiggled away from the antennae as they inspected it. Its tone was notably nervous, very obviously trying to play it cool with humor. 

"[Bit forward, don'tcha think? At least wait until we're in the dressing room!!]”

The pipis scanned the room a little, its little mini glasses flexing and morphing to emote like eyes. It squinted through the light of the screen, attempting to locate the rest of its little crew. Alas, it was alone. Abandoned… unbelievable.

It called him by his first name. Tenna’s mouth dropped open the slightest bit and his unneeded breath caught in his throat. The words it said were so familiar, too. He swore that Spamton had said something almost exactly the same at least once. Maybe more than once. He loved to joke around like that.

Tenna was embarrassed by the thought that he missed this voice. But he certainly did.

"He made you, didn’t he?" The TV whispered into the dark room, lowering the Pipis into his lap. He didn’t let go yet. He knew it would try to scamper off. "Why do you— why aren’t you rolling the ads?" Why did it sound like that. It made his circuits twist in painful nostalgia. After that dream… he shook that can of points away. No thanks.

"Did he send you here to ransack my belongings?" A question with an obvious answer but… he wanted to keep the thing chatting as long as he could. Maybe it could shed some light on… everything.

"[Maybe. Who's askin?]" 

As the Pipis was lowered, it attempted to pull away, and once again it was proven to be a useless venture. Finally it seemed to give up with a little huff. 

Usually, most living things had two natural instincts: Fight or Flight. But a single Pipis was useless on its own. These things worked best in swarms. Of course, The Boys had left him in the dust when The Beast woke from its slumber. Therefore, the secret third option, unique to Addison and their kin, was enacted: Bargain. 

"[Listen, listen. I gotta quota to fill. So howzibout this. I'll leave without takin' anything, and you don't smush me inta blue caviar. That sound good to you? Come ahnnn. I'm a trustworthy guy, ain't I?]" The pitch was given through a collection of hand gestures, yet another distinct Spamtonism. Of course it was lying through its teeth, yet another natural instinct kicking in.

He supposed this interruption to his recharge wasn’t all that bad. Not like he would be sleeping again if he was going to have dreams like that.

"Come on," Tenna grimaced. If he had eyes to roll, he would have. "You know who I am. Don’t play little games with me." He knew this tactic. He had always seen through every slimy scheme Spamton had back in the day. Sure, the Addison had been great at business and he was a smooth talker, but… Tenna was the same. He could read this like a book.

"You’ll be stealing something on your way out, I’m sure. And go ahead, take! I’d prefer if we did an Exchange." The TV folded his hands together and a large, strained, manic grin spread across his screen. The light from his face dimmed in a sinister way as he slowly tilted his head. "You answer three little questions, and I don’t turn you into a blue on my blanket. And you can have whatever PRIZE  from my boxes you like." Tenna gestured over to them with one flourishing hand. He could always get more. He wasn’t living in this place very long, anyway.

The TV host spoke a phrase he knew it could not resist: "So… Do we have a deal?"