Chapter Text
"Do you want Kris to be able to smile again?"
He'd heard it, echoing in his mind with no visible source, as he prepared the second- final! Really! - board. The voice offered him a deal: help them, and they'd make Kris smile. At the time, he'd said no. He could do it himself! He was Ant Tenna!
Now, laying in a useless heap in the snow, feeling the life slowly drain from his body, he heard that voice again.
And this time, he had no choice but to say yes.
---
Darkness, darker than dark, surrounded him. He took a few tentative steps forwards, feeling an invisible ground beneath his feet.
How was he... Standing? Moving? Where was he? He tried to move his arms, only to find- no, they were still gone. What happened? Did... The voice do this?
A shudder ran through his body. Was he dead? Was this... Some kind of twisted excuse for an afterlife? He guessed... He didn't deserve anything better than this. Not after what he'd done. To Susie. To Kris. He hoped... He hoped Susie didn't feel too guilty, that after everything she'd promised, he still couldn't be saved. Didn't deserve to be saved.
What an afterlife. Armless and alone in an endless void, presumably for eternity.
Well, he figured, he might as well get to know his new home/prison. He took a few more steps forwards, surprised at how easily he was able to keep his balance with no arms. Maybe something was helping him...? He wasn't sure why. But it seemed like the only option that made sense.
One foot after the other.
Before him, something faded into view: red strings, stretching from the 'floor' to the 'ceiling', as far as the eye could see, and then further. It almost looked like a work of art. And yet... It unnerved him to his core, in a way he couldn't even begin to understand.
He felt... Like he was somewhere he was never meant to be, but now had no way out of.
As he crept forwards, more and more strings appeared, until he was surrounded- often having to push past them to get through. They felt... Sticky. As though if he touched them for too long, they'd grab on and never let him go.
...Something hovered among the strings, just ahead. He pushed through the strings, slower and slower, and slower...
He became trapped.
The object looked upon him. It was... A SOUL. A red, human SOUL. What was a human SOUL doing here...? Was it someone else who had died? Oh god, was he intruding on someone else's afterlife? Were the strings to keep people away?
He tried to speak, to apologize, to beg to be let out. But he couldn't manage a sound.
So
The voice came from everywhere, yet nowhere.
You have agreed
To the terms
Weakly, he nodded. Yes, yes! He'd do anything.
Good
Very good :)
This is one agreement
You will regret
For the rest of your life
What? What!? Wait, no, go back, what did they mean he'd regret it!? But his vision was already starting to go dark, as the red strings engulfed him like a cocoon. Far too late, he realized why the strings had unnerved him so much.
He was an insect, who willingly walked right into the spider's web.
There is work to be done
The state you are in now
Is of no use to me
I will fix you
And make some...
Needed alterations
---
He was looking at his own body.
Formless, he almost seemed to float- if not for the net of red strings keeping him tethered down. Red hands surrounded him, and he saw... Susie? She seemed oblivious to the hands, or the strings, or his disembodied consciousness.
She had a determined expression, and tools in her hands. Wait, was she...?
He watched as more of the scene became visible. His body was laying on the green room floor, surrounded by pippinses and shadowguys. He couldn't hear anything, but he could see that they were talking. About him? Slowly, an arm was carried into the room, then another. His arms. The sleeves had been removed from them, and he saw his ruined blazer and button-up be removed from his body.
The attack really had done a number on it... The coattails were completely cut off, and there were huge gashes in the fabric. And, the sleeves, of course. It was surely beyond repair.
Everyone backed away as a blowtorch was pulled out, and he watched as the severed metal frame of his shoulders was slowly, painstakingly welded back together, then the plastic casing that went on top. So, so glad he couldn't feel any of it.
...Just as he had forgotten about them, the red hands returned. They began to push down on him in every direction... And he began to get smaller. Smaller, smaller, smaller, until he was the same height as Kris. No one seemed to know what to make of this- and there was minor chaos amongst the crowd before it finally stopped.
He didn't see anything after that, feeling himself be pulled back towards his body, and into unconsciousness.