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‘The Lord of Screens, cleaved red by blade.’
Intellectually, Spamton knows that something very important is going on right now - Kris and the others are literally fighting for their lives against the Knight - but he’s unable to get past what just happened less than a few minutes ago.
Tenna. The person who left him behind, who never bothered to call. The person who’d brought such light into his life way back then. The person who couldn’t even recognize him but had still wished, even just out of desperation, to see him again. The person who’s just been sliced to pieces right in front of Spamton’s eyes.
Spamton’s not an idiot, or at least, he’s not that much of an idiot - even a tiny amount of self-awareness is enough to know that he’s still not over his feelings for Tenna, no matter how much he’s claimed to hate him over the years. But the weight of the baggage between them has almost always been enough to stop him from trying to reach out again. And when he finally did, it felt like being hit by a targeted missile when he realized that he’s changed so much that the most important person in his life couldn’t recognize him.
Tenna has always been fated to die. There’s no reason for Spamton to try to do anything about it… but maybe, if he hasn’t died yet, there’s one last chance to get some closure between them. Spamton’s never exactly been the most optimistic of people, but after being cut from his strings and offering to help Kris, his outlook on life has become just a little bit brighter. And, despite all that’s happened, he just can’t stomach the idea of letting Tenna die all alone if he can help it.
So, when an attack from the Knight sends Kris tumbling to the ground, the Dealmaker conveniently slips from their pocket, taking advantage of their distraction to return to his puppet form and make a stealthy getaway. It’s selfish of him, yes, but he’s never claimed to be otherwise. Hopefully, if they realize what he did, Kris will forgive him.
Running through the piles of snow, it doesn’t take long before Spamton reaches the place where Tenna had fallen. His arms, with torn wires still sticking out of them, lay nearby as well. His screen is completely turned off, but once Spamton gets close enough, he can hear the faint whirr of Tenna’s ‘breathing’, the fans in his body circulating air to prevent overheating. He’s still alive.
Laying eyes on Tenna’s fragile form, there’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where Spamton wonders why he’s here at all. It wouldn’t be too late to walk away, to pretend this had all never happened and go back to trash-talking Tenna like he’s been doing this whole time. And he considers it, he really does. The resentment Spamton’s been building up for years doesn’t just vanish, no matter how broken and pathetic Tenna looks. But deep down, he knows that he would never forgive himself for walking away from this. It was hard enough to leave Tenna behind once; he thinks it might break him completely if he does it again now.
“[Cathode]?” he calls, tapping the side of Tenna’s head. He would try to shake him awake, but jostling him too much seems like a bad idea given the exposed wounds where his arms had been detached. “CAN YOU [best sales here!] ME?” Spamton surprises himself for a moment with how softly his voice comes out - man, he’s lucky nobody else is here to watch him be such a sap.
Tenna’s screen flickers dimly, showing staticky images that Spamton can’t decipher, but there’s no verbal response. Spamton was hoping to get his permission to try to fix him, or at least notify him of what's going on, but it seems like he’s completely out of it. Well, maybe that’s for the best anyway… whatever fixes Spamton attempts to make, they’re definitely not going to be painless. He roots around in the inside pockets of Tenna’s jacket, knowing that he always carries around an emergency set of repair tools just in case. Sure enough, he finds what he’s looking for and lays out the tools in front of him. “[CRT]. I’M GOING TO [try now for free!!] TO FIX YOU. UH. IT’S GOING TO [no, stop, it burns] THOUGH. [Apologies, dear customer]. The screen flickers again.
Spamton moves over to the left arm and starts carefully stripping the torn wires to prepare them for reconnection. As he does so, he starts to regret rousing Tenna, because he can hear his fans speeding up in the way they always do when Tenna is in a panic. I should’ve left him knocked out, Spamton thinks as Tenna emits some distressed beeping signals. At least then he’d be suffering less.
When the arm is ready, Spamton quickly repeats the process on the other, then drags them both back over to Tenna’s side. “T-TEN-[10% off!]-” He clears his throat and tries again. Surely the least he can do to make Tenna feel better is say his name properly - that is, if he can even hear it. “TEN-N-NA.” Good enough . “BRACE YOURSELF.”
He reaches out to start working on the wires sticking out from the left arm’s socket, and the moment he does, Tenna’s body jerks violently, the distress signal rising in volume. “[We are sorry for your inconvenience], BUT I CAN’T [don’t give up!] NOW.” Spamton would’ve thought that his lingering resentment would make Tenna’s pain easier to ignore, but it doesn’t at all - every jolt and whine stabs at what’s left of Spamton’s heart. The right socket is in even worse shape, wires tangled up and sparking with electric signals, and it takes longer than the left. All the while, Tenna lets out those painful, pathetic cries.
Finally, he aligns both arms and stations himself beside the left one, ready to solder it back on now that the wires are prepped. “STAY STILL,” Spamton orders, even though it probably falls on deaf ears. He hesitates for an extra moment or two before starting to solder the wires, and if Tenna’s reaction was saddening before, this time it’s downright heartbreaking. His screen flickers back to life, his mouth wide open in a silent shriek, as if he’s in too much pain to even make a sound. The fans in his body are working overtime, so loud that Spamton spares a thought to worry that they might break. Tenna used to worry almost constantly about this or that back when they were partners, and he’d even had anxiety attacks once or twice, but even then his circulation system had never been this overworked. Add that to the list of things making him feel worse , Spamton thinks with a wince.
“ALMOST DONE,” Spamton says quietly as he moves on to the other arm. This is the one that had been in worse shape to begin with, so he has to take his time to make sure everything fits back together properly. He focuses on this process as hard as possible to avoid thinking about how much Tenna is suffering. He thinks of stopping to give Tenna a break, but he knows that doing so would only make the whole affair last longer.
Seeing Tenna like this, Spamton feels a bit guilty for all the ill he’s wished on Tenna over the years. I never would have done this to you. When Spamton hits some trouble with a set of particularly stubborn connections, Tenna’s voice crackles to life, but his words are overlaid with too much static to be understandable. Seemingly unaware of anything that’s going on, Tenna struggles to move, but his energy reserves are nearly depleted already. It’s kind of morbid, but Spamton can’t help but be grateful for that - otherwise, with his superior size and strength, Tenna would’ve easily been able to throw Spamton off of him.
Finally, with the last connection repaired, Spamton sets the tools down and takes a few steps back, assessing the rest of Tenna’s body. With his arms now safely reconnected, the damage is no longer fatal. His antennae are bent pretty severely, and he’s got some other scratches and dents from falling, but otherwise he should be okay as long as he gets out of the snow relatively soon.
He survived. Spamton can’t help but laugh, hysteria creeping in for a moment. I saved him. I defied his fate. The dark edge falls away quickly, though, as he remembers that Tenna is now conscious and likely confused. He steps back towards Tenna and taps the side of his head to get his attention. “CAN YOU [click here] ME NOW?”
“Who-” Tenna tries to turn downward to see him, but his joints don’t seem to respond to his command. “I can’t-”
“OKAY, OKAY, [chill out].” As carefully as he possibly can, Spamton climbs up onto Tenna’s chest so he sits in his line of sight, cringing at the loud whirring of the fans indicating Tenna’s ongoing panic. “[see the sights] NOW?”
Tenna is quiet for a long moment, until he finally says, “Spam-ton? You - how - why…?”
Oh, so now that you’re delirious, that’s when you recognize me. Real flattering. He exercises restraint and does not put it that way out loud, instead choosing to say, “YOU [pattern recognition test] ME?”
The attempt at conversation seems to calm Tenna down a little bit, to Spamton’s relief. “You knew… how to fix it…” Tenna whimpers as an attempt to move his arm causes a jolt of pain, but at least his fans seem to be slowing down. “The way you… stripped the wires… your touch… it had to have been you.”
“OH.” Well, Tenna must be really out of it to admit something like that so bluntly, but… to Spamton’s long-suffering heart, the fact that his touch still feels familiar to Tenna is rather comforting.
The next few minutes are a blur of activity as Tenna’s colleagues and friends arrive to try to help him. Spamton spots Susie among the crowd and feels some relief - if she’s here, then the other two probably made it out okay as well. Quickly, Spamton jumps down from Tenna’s chest and slips away, hoping not to be seen. Obviously they’ll all figure out later that he saved Tenna - even now, they wear confused expressions seeing that his arms are reattached - but right now, Spamton would rather get cleaved himself than be the focus of their attention.
He slinks around for a while, watching as Tenna is transported to a warmer room and adequately fussed over, until finally the last of the crew has left and Tenna is alone. From the dark corner of said room that he’s currently hiding in, Spamton takes a moment to consider if he actually wants to speak to Tenna right now. Will they fight? Will his presence even help?
All those considerations fly out the window the moment he hears Tenna start to cry. The sound is familiar - Tenna has always been emotional - but that doesn't mean it's any nicer to hear. Spamton scrambles out of his hiding spot and rushes over to the couch that Tenna is laying on. “HEY, [TV time!], IT'S [a-okay].” He jumps up onto the arm of the couch, right above Tenna's head.
“Oh! You - you're back!” Tenna says, voice teary and shaking. He looks up at Spamton with something like wonder. “You saved me! … Unless I, hah, hallucinated that.” When Spamton stays quiet, having no idea what to say and feeling completely out of his depth, Tenna opts to fill the silence by continuing to ramble, a habit of his from a long time ago that Spamton assumes he never broke. “I don’t really understand why you did, I mean, clearly I’ve outlived my usefulness, haha, and also, don’t you hate me? Because I really hated you, and so I imagined you would feel the same, but I don’t know if I really hate you, because I felt - happy, I think, when I saw you after you fixed me, but it could’ve just been relief that I wasn’t d-dying anymore-”
That’s enough of that. Gentle yet firm, Spamton reaches down and places his hand over Tenna’s mouth to get him to stop talking. “[Cathode]. STOP.” More tears fall from Tenna’s screen the second Spamton talks, and the puppet laments that things had to end up like this, that they’re so messed up that Tenna cries at the mere sound of his voice. “I [file saved successfully] YOU BECAUSE…” Ah, not a great place to start. Spamton isn’t even entirely sure himself. Surely he can come up with something, though? “... BECAUSE I COULDN’T [don’t go away just yet!] FROM YOU. [never, ever, ever] LIKE THAT.”
Spamton realizes his error when Tenna laughs, a bitter sound that sucks the air from the room. “No? My mistake, then, because you did it before. I guess all I had to do was literally die to get your attention.”
It’s rapidly becoming clear to Spamton that he is not ready to discuss this with Tenna, and it doesn’t seem like Tenna is ready either. In fact, Spamton’s pretty sure that Tenna is already headed towards a weapons-grade emotional meltdown, and talking about their old partnership (and its disintegration) will not help at all. He slips down from the armrest to land on the couch cushion right beside Tenna’s head. “YOU DIDN’T [the die is cast] THOUGH.” Very softly, he runs his hand over the shoulder of Tenna’s jacket, stitched back together by his crew. “YOU’RE [alive, alive, alive].”
Tenna starts to shake, his fans kicking up to high speed again. “Barely!” he says somewhat hysterically. “I should be dead!” Spamton really isn't a fan of the way Tenna keeps saying that word. Die, dying, dead. He says it like someone who thinks it’s what he deserves. “And you - you showed up after all this time to save my life, and I don't get it, and I don't get why anyone cares at all!” His arms twitch at his sides, and Tenna lets out a sob, though Spamton can’t tell if it was physical or emotional pain that caused it. Probably both.
I am really not qualified for this, Spamton thinks. I’d better hope he still likes me deep down, because that’s probably the only way I’ll get through to him. “TENNA,” he calls, thanking his lucky stars that he actually managed to say the man’s name properly. “YOU’RE STILL HERE BECAUSE YOU’RE [Highest Value Product]. BECAUSE [We Love TV!].” Spamton internally cringes at the accidental use of the word ‘love’. Is it true? Yeah, probably, no matter how much it stings to admit. Is it the right time to say so? Almost certainly not.
Tenna may have heard his words, but he doesn’t truly seem to be listening to them. He’s trembling hard enough to nearly shake Spamton off the couch. He whispers something unintelligible to himself over and over, spiraling down into a mental abyss, tears running down his screen. It’s something that Spamton understands quite well, but not something he knows how to easily fix; it’s been long enough now that he doesn’t fully recall what Tenna used to respond to best when he got like this. Bits and pieces of breathing exercises and grounding techniques float around in his head, but none of it materializes into anything he can use.
Desperate for anything that might help even a little bit, Spamton starts singing that stupid jingle that he and Tenna always used to laugh over because of how easily it got stuck in their heads. His voice glitches and shakes, and it’s undoubtedly a terrible rendition of the song, but he does it anyway. “[Fresh From The Juice, Fresh From The Juice] [Make Sure You Don’t Get It On Your Shoese]”
He doesn’t get a response, but he thinks he hears Tenna’s fans starting to slow down. So he sings it again, and again, and a few more times after that, his voice gradually increasing in confidence. By the fifth or sixth time, the melody is perfect as it leaves his mouth, no glitches to be heard. Tenna’s frantic whispering stops and the shaking starts to subside. Oh, that actually worked? At least I did something right. After one more repetition, Spamton quiets down and climbs up onto Tenna’s chest again, putting his hand on the place where Tenna’s most important circuitry lies, the closest approximation to his ‘heart’. “BETTER?”
“... Thank you,” Tenna says quietly. “I’m… sorry you had to see that. This is all - it’s - it’s just too much for me.” His arms twitch again, like he wants to reach up and touch Spamton, but they both heard the crew’s warning about not using them too much until the repairs have had time to settle. “I don't want to be left behind… but I don't want to be kept out of some sense of obligation, either… I just want to be wanted! Is - is that so wrong?” Tenna's crying again, big shiny tears that leave blurry tracks on his screen, but at least he’s no longer in a panic like he was earlier. “And almost dying is scary! Am I just supposed to be fine after that?!”
Back when he and Tenna had first met, Spamton hadn't known anything at all about the best way to comfort another person. Honestly, he still doesn't, but he knows Tenna, and even though he's lost some of the specifics, he remembers the two things that Tenna always needs most.
First come the verbal reassurances, the sweet words and praises that Tenna always wants to hear. It's the language that Tenna understands best and the one that Spamton is probably the worst at speaking. Still, he tries; Tenna's sadness has always been one of Spamton's biggest weaknesses. Just be direct. Tell him how you really feel. After all this time, Spamton can barely believe he's about to say this. “I [want it, need it] YOU. EVEN WHEN YOU'RE NOT [the finest quality around!].”
And then, the second half of the recipe for Tenna's comfort - physical contact. Spamton is already perched on Tenna's chest, which makes things a lot easier. He leans forward with open arms, falling down into a hug. His arms, very small compared to Tenna's body, don't quite wrap around him fully, but he can't do much better than this without touching Tenna's shoulders, so it'll have to do.
Tenna sniffles. “I… I really want to believe that, but - how can you say you w-want me like that when you've just come back after years of being gone?”
Spamton tightens his grip. “I'M [try something new] HERE, ALRIGHT? CAN'T WE [chat log] ABOUT THAT PART [at a later date]?”
“Okay…” Tenna sighs, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. “Okay. Then I suppose, even if you're going to leave again… I'm glad that you came. Thank you for saving me.”
At this point, there's no way I can leave you again, Spamton thinks but doesn't say. Maybe he should say it, but he doesn’t know how to do that without the promise sounding empty. Even a literal contract with his signature hadn’t been enough to keep them together last time, so promising Tenna anything now would just feel unfair. Still, after going through all the effort to take care of Tenna, Spamton gets the distinct feeling that he’s truly stuck with him this time, and finds that it doesn’t sound so bad after all. He curls himself up, getting comfortable on Tenna's chest. “LET'S [rest and relaxation].”
Tenna yawns, his body sinking further into the couch cushions. “Good idea… I'm exhausted… wait, don't you want a bed or something?”
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I'M [zzz].”
“Haha… just like old times, huh?”
Falling asleep together like this, Spamton can almost imagine the two of them back in the studio, crashing after a long day of live performances. Tenna always held him like he was impossibly precious, like a treasure to be cherished, and even though Spamton almost always woke up first, he would stay right there until Tenna awakened because he knew the man hated to be left alone.
You think I'll leave again? I'll prove you wrong. Good luck getting rid of me this time, because there's no going back now.