Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The impulse to pop out of his form multiple times during Lightners’ journey through the TV world prodded at Spamton’s psyche, much like an insolent child poking at the side of an aquarium. It was curious, incessant, and infuriating. It just wanted him to see what would happen without any consideration for what might die in the process.

And someone was going to die today, as Spamton already knew.

His object form, the pink-and-yellow glasses, was very convenient. It allowed him to almost participate in the events that were unraveling before him, but without any of the responsibility: emotional, moral, or most importantly - financial. It also helped him observe what’s going on without any unbecoming feelings getting better of him. And Spamton was always prone to sentimentality - almost too easy to soften with just a little warmth. Kind of like a stick of butter stuck in a freezer for a little too long.

He was also prone to fits of anger, but these were perfectly natural and justifiable. These feelings were also his close companions over the decade he spent in the garbage, and he knew just how to handle them on his own.

Knowing this, he felt relieved to be perched on Kris’ head, and nothing else. He assured himself: there’s nothing that wretched box of junk can do to make him pop out of this lucrative position.

__

The first time he almost manifested out of the Dealmakers was when Tenna played what used to be THEIR intro. It was all jumbled up, it lacked character. It lacked chemistry. It lacked him.

How dare he edit Spamton out? After all these years? He spent so much time haunted by visions and memories of that CRT, and he can just… delete him from his life, edit him from the final cut?

He had about a decade to conjure up the imaginary fights he’d have with Tenna, and replay them in his head indefinitely. All the ways he’d pay back for ruining his life, his dreams, his hopes. The chance to achieve his Freedom.

The Tenna he’d argue with in his mind for the past 10 years was uncaring, cold and calculating, perhaps more so than the Tenna that actually lived in his memories. Perhaps the Tenna from his memories was all but - but thinking too much about their happier past wasn't conducive to vengeful resentment. Through moments of temporary clarity, Spamton knew he was barely half-sane. He tried to hold onto the rage - of all the emotions he had left in him, this one felt the most bearable.

‘It was him’, he’d rather think. ‘It was his fault I ended up like this’, and Spamton couldn’t allow himself to think his actions were anything but premeditated. It was easier to categorise it as yet another betrayal, less confusing to pretend Tenna was praying for his downfall all along.

He crafted that goddamn contract that would trap him, knowing damn well what was going to happen to him in consequence. He must have. He must have!? To get all the freedom to himself? All his fault! All his fault All his fault All his fault All his fault

He did it.

He did it.

He did it to him,

He turned Spamton into this… This hollow caricature of himself, hanging by his strings. Forever. The salesman would usually find comfort in reminding himself about the predetermined fate of his perpetrator - a vision that used to haunt him before their relationship went South. Strangely, this time, the promise held by the prophecy felt like a bitter burn down his non-existent throat.

Even in his Dealmaker form, the mailman felt himself shaking from sheer rage by just thinking about the Cathode, much less seeing him. Kris must have felt it as well - when Tenna wailed at Mike to tear down his house and kids, the twitching Dealmakers would have almost rolled down the human’s head, if only they hadn’t propped the glasses up to gently rest on top of their hair.

The rage he held onto so dearly dissipated gradually, moment by moment, as the heroes made their way through the stage. Has that CRT always been that… Pathetic? Needy? Afraid?

The Tenna that lived in his mind, not the one he conjured up, but the one from his actual memories, was this mostly-confident and larger-than-life character. While he had his mood swings, he hid his insecurities much better, and the crashes were never quite this extreme, and definitely not this public. It was so striking Spamton nearly found himself worried, against himself.

It felt like the Dealmaker’s heart gave in little by little each time Tenna would mention “the little mail-man”, and it would do so with double force each time he’d try really hard not to, but fail.

The second time he almost came back was when the kids failed at one board so miserably they got a special entry into what used to be his room. He almost didn't have it in him to be mad. This was a new level of offense, not only to let anyone into his own former space, but to save it for the worst of the worst!? Something broke in him when he saw the place: trashed, posters torn up, mirrors smashed up, the phone still hanging off the receiver…

Was Tenna angry with him? What right did he even have to be angry? Wasn't he… wasn't he the one…? He was the one who should be angry with that damn Cathode! He ruined everything for him!

Though now it seems he ruined it for the both of them. Didn't he betray him for a chance of becoming a Big Shot? That was all that mattered to Tenna, after all, while Spamton was ready to give his whole heart away for that disloyal piece of junk.

But if he did it for his gain, why was he so miserable? Why did it seem like he couldn't forget his little mail-man?

He laughed manically just thinking about it, and started shaking on top of Kris' head again. A careful hand put him back in place once more.

His train of thought almost distracted Spamton from what was happening at the very moment, which was a very thunderous and public breakdown his ex-partner was going through. During a game show, no less. Wasn't this all so funny?

He laughed again, but like most of his laughs, it was joyless - a panicked, nervous throttle. Kris held the glasses down to keep him from falling, already becoming a reflex.

The damn boob tube was always needy, but demanding Lightners keep repeating they love TV was a new low. When was the last time someone told Ant they loved him? Could have been a decade, his mind supplied, which he regretted instantly.

He nearly jumped off Kris' head (if it weren't for the human holding him down) when that piece of junk sang his jingle during their battle. His, Spamton’s jingle! When Ant asked if anyone knew it, he almost re-formed in the middle of Tenna’s attack, the third time he had to stop himself from doing so. Yes, of course he knows it, you trash box. It's his jingle! And you're singing it wrong!

Anger barely started to bubble in him again, but he froze when Tenna repeated the question. Does he… does he know he's in there? Is he calling out to him?

Should he… should he show himself?

No. No! Not even when Tenna sulked pathetically, growing smaller when no one replied. Not even when he demanded the Lightners say ‘I love TV’ and not, though barely, when he fought the urge to say it with them.

That marked the fourth time.

The fifth time he didn’t manage to stop himself.

Not as if he even tried this time, because Tenna keeping their Pipis was the final proof that all this time, that damn CRT must have cared about them. About him. At least a little.

But that little was enough, since it wasn’t an option he would have even entertained just a couple hours ago. His spirit was broken, and his heart was too soft after the marathon of breakdowns from the TV he witnessed.

When he saw the little egg tucked away safely in a secret room a dam broke and let out a torrent of dormant emotions. For a moment, he felt like all was going to be okay! They’re going to have their tearful reunion, and they could go from there. Right? Right!?

Well, it wasn’t, because that damn TV covered him in insulating foam while screaming bloody murder, calling him ‘a Rat’ and ‘a Creature’ - and he was neither of those things.

For a short moment before, he felt weightless, filled with hope. Like his wretched strings were replaced with a pair of fluffy wings. Now, he felt like a comically large boulder was dropped on his tiny puppet body.

He would almost find this funny, if he still had the will to laugh - even hysterically. Instead, absolutely dejected, he came back to Kris’ inventory.

Like hell will he ever try this again - if that damn Cathode wants to die without making amends, or even without saying goodbye, so be it. He’s not going to feel sorry for him anymore, he’s not going to react, or even listen.

He doesn't react to Tenna’s wailing, claiming all of this was Spamton's fault for not letting him in on his secret... He has a feeling even the TV himself knows it's untrue.

He also doesn’t say anything when a stupid paper mache of his own head shows up in the bonus game as an enemy, Tenna having ordered Lightners to kill him. He especially doesn’t care, since that horrendous sculpture doesn’t even look like him - not with that short nose anyway.

He doesn’t say anything when Kris comes back to the S rank room to play the secret game, and the sprite of Tenna recalls the last time they’ve seen each other before… Everything happened. Even if he did want to say something, he’d lack the words to express what his ex-partner’s admission made him feel. He was out of witty remarks and out of mumbled curses. Resentment built up in him once more, stuffy and festering like mildew. This reminder of why he was so angry with Tenna in the first place struck him like a slap straight across the face - seemed so foolish now, that he thought they could have reconciled.

He didn’t say anything still when during their last scuffle, Tenna really seemed to be losing his mind. Not a word in the beginning at least, not until prompted by Kris. When they made a check on their opponent, he couldn't help himself:

“THE [Tragic businessmen] THAT [Died] AT THE [Now] OF THE [Story]” He half-whispered.

That’s what was going to happen, right? And it was going to happen very very soon. And Tenna almost seemed to know, judging by his panicked plea:

"I'M NOT LIKE HIM! I'M BETTER! I SWEAR I'M BETTER! MIKE, TELL 'EM!"

He’d smile, if he’d have a mouth to smile with. That piece of junk wanted to share his fate, know the secret to being like him? Then he was going to end up like him too - tossed away, getting a refreshing night’s sleep in the garbage.

There it was - his fate waiting just for him, all these years, and he won’t be able to escape it. Spamton wondered whether all that happened led them to this exact place, if his rise and fall was just as predetermined as the red lines cleaving that screen in half in the frames of the prophecy.

Kris’ Lightner friend (Susie, was it?) assured Tenna all is going to be okay, that they’re going to find the TV a new home and make sure he’s not tossed away, but it’s all untrue. It makes him want to scream.

Because Tenna doesn’t deserve their pity. But he also doesn't deserve the false hope. Doesn’t deserve thinking he’s going to have his wish come true only for all of it to be torn away from him in a moment.

So when the sword descends on him, Spamton can’t tear his gaze away. Quite literally unable to do so, being bound to the top of Kris’ head as the Dealmakers, but even if he was, he imagined this moment so many times, it felt so surreal to actually watch it happen.

He imagined it pained, mortified, grieving, when he first found out. He imagined it every time he saw Tenna’s smiling face in the back rooms, in bars, or curled up on the couch. Later, he imagined it triumphant, gratified, vindictive, when nested on the bottom of the dumpster, alone, muttering the names of his lost friends all to himself.

In all honesty, even after they parted, he imagined it both ways, at the same time.

Now he watched it in a deep state of shock. As if it took him by surprise, despite knowing this moment was going to arrive for over a decade. Powerless to stop it, no matter how much he wanted to, yet wanting it to happen again and again and again.

This felt just. This felt like getting torn to pieces. Most of anything, it felt like a deep sense of regret.

Chapter Text

Tenna woke up in his room in Castle Town, sneezing, coughing and shivering. This was just another slap in the face after what had happened in the TV World - though it’s not like he could remember much.

He remembered light, and then dark. He remembered being moved, and Susie’s urgent tone.

He remembered, but barely, a weird sensation on his face and shoulders. Like crawling spiders, or maybe small hands… Were those damn Pippins trying to steal gambling money from him? When he was down with his hands cleaved off!?

Ant tried to sigh, but sneezed instead. Good thing Mike and Susie brought him that heat lamp, he didn’t want to add pneumonia to the list of things currently wrong with him. Not that TVs could get pneumonia, but…

His train of thought was disrupted by the sound of chirping coming from his tailcoat pocket. Was that…

“Little darling? Is that you?”

The chirping being looked nothing like the Pipis he kept in his secret room, it was white and fluffy, for once. But by way of elimination it had to be her: the egg he tucked away when that rat-thing tried to steal her from his room was gone. An intense shiver passed through his whole body, he wasn't sure if it was the cold, or the sense of unease this thing invoked.

Did she hatch when he was out!? The chirping sound grew louder as the little creature jumped to the floor and started hopping in the direction of the door.

“Hey, get back here this instant, young lady!” Tenna leaped up from his comfortable spot by the heat lamp to chase after the little thing that was trying to urgently get away for some reason. “Like everyone else in my life”, cathode sighed pathetically.

It stopped halfway at the entryway and seemed to circle something lying on the floor in little hops. Whatever it was, it went unnoticed by the Darkner up to this very moment.

It was a… pair of glasses?

Tenna recalled a similar pair of glasses perched up on Kris’ head throughout their encounters in the TV World; it must have fallen from their head when they were moving him, he thought.

He picked them up, and noticed they’re a bit cloudy - by reflex, he tried to polish them with his gloves. The glasses started vibrating in his hands, which caused Tenna to double take - now he was questioning his senses. Is there something happening outside that could cause tremors?

As if on que, he heard the Queen shouting something about drilling until they get to the meat and fruit - whatever that meant, he decided not to give it too much thought. She always had some wacky ideas she’d get fixated on, and then pursue relentlessly, kind of like-

Tenna cleared his throat, as if his internal monologue had an audience he’d have to distract. To Tenna, there wasn’t a moment where some sort of invisible audience wasn’t watching him anyways.

Distracted by this train of thought, he placed the glasses on a side table and came back for the hatched Pipis. Was it still a pipis if it was no longer an egg? The creature seemed to calm down a bit, though he had no idea why she got so hung up on that pair of glasses.

He still couldn’t believe it - she’s been hidden away in his room ever since… Well, for about 10 years. Why did she hatch now?

He tried to recall any details from the educational shows Toriel would watch about child development sometimes, but they said very little about eggs. Maybe keeping her cooped up in a single room for so long stopped her from achieving some developmental milestones?

He soured at the thought, but then chuckled to himself, ‘cooped up’ - Toriel would have loved that joke. He felt a twinge of regret, then embarrassment, and then shame, thinking about her. All these years together, and kept her locked up, put her in danger, made Kris and Susie worry… and he made such a terrible fuss. Tenna loved to perform more than anything else in the world, but the last thing he'd love to broadcast was a public breakdown.

His every limit was tested though - all these years, and Tori has just given him away. Just like he feared. Just like he knew all along.

He looked at the Pipis cradled in his hands, she was cooing softly. She was all white, with little fluffy feathers. He petted her small form, and sighed in shaky relief; not as if the weight of the world didn't quite fall from his shoulders, but as if someone helped it up for a moment. “You won’t leave me too, will you?” he asked, sounding a little too desperate. The little creature only chirped in response.

He really should come up with a name for her. So far, he’d call her ‘darling’, and while he always will, it's not right to keep his little baby without a name. He scratched her under her chin, and she cooed again.

“Hahaha you look just like your dad, don’t you?”

His antennae snapped ramrod-straight, and he wanted to bite his own tongue off. Other than the everpresent audience in his mind, there was no one listening. No one looking. No one was there to witness this embarrassing moment. It was fine. Well, there was his little darling, but could she even understand him?

He tried to distance himself from any thoughts of his… former business partner, but it was hard. It was hard enough that he felt him come up over and over again like word vomit. In front of his employees, in front of his audience, in front of Kris, and alone, he just can’t help himself but bring the little mailman up. At least usually, he’d manage to do it with enough contempt he can pretend his feelings are more simple than what they actually are.

His actual feelings were an explosive cocktail of many things: a neat base of regret, a couple of shots of anger mixed with resentment, a splash of a sense of betrayal, another couple of splashes of disbelief, and a garnish of longing to top it off.

Heh… Spammy used to love cocktails.

No! No Spammy! He wasn't his Spammy anymore, wherever he was and whatever he was doing. For whatever reason he didn't try to reach out to him all these years. It was him who left! Tenna shouldn't be the one to contact him first, not that he would know how.

Spamton must know where he is, it’s not like he moved from the TV city in a decade. He hasn't changed his number! Until now, at least.

Tenna jerked up in alarm: what if he tries to find him and doesn't know where he is?!

No! No, he lost his chance. It was too late. You snooze, you lose, pal! Despite Tenna’s best attempts to pep talk himself into a better (or at least a more feisty) mood, he felt like the ground was getting closer and closer, and the furniture in his room got taller and taller. He was on his bed, the heat lamp was on, his fluffy little darling was there, and he felt absolutely drained from the cold, and the rollercoaster of emotions he just put himself through.

He didn't have eyelids, or even eyes exactly, but if he had, they'd be growing very heavy right now. A nap sounded really good. It's not like there was a show to get to anyway.

So his tiny matchbox-sized face nestled in the little creature's soft feathers, while he tried not to think of a happier past. Of cozy evenings in changing rooms, where he'd fall asleep curled up with a different soft feathery body, warm and close to him.

___

Spamton did his best to contain a shiver when Tenna brushed his lenses with his fingers, but failed miserably and turned into a shaking mess instead. It was because he was so disgusted, of course. And because his cover was nearly blown.

He tried to remember when was the last time he was touched gently, with intent other than someone trying to get rid of him. He couldn’t, he realised, though he knew it was probably by the same pair of hands too. Which means it’s been a very very long time.

This was a bad train of thought - stupid, useless, pointless, he wasn’t going to think about it anymore. Spamton had to be focused on what he was here for in the first place - the Pipis.

He was glad Tenna kept her, initially, but that was before the damn boobtube decided to antagonise him, call him a rat, and drown him in insulating foam. The Pipis obviously reacted to Spamton’s proximity, because why else would she hatch after so many years all of a sudden?

The little thing reacted to her father’s, her real father’s, presence. He had no choice, basically. He had to take her back, cause what else should he do? Leave her with this rusting pile of junk when he rotted into irrelevance?

No one wanted him, and no one will want him, so Tenna will be stuck here until he’s all rust, just like Spamton was stuck in the trash bin all these years. He felt a throttle bubble up, but no mouth to let it out of in his Dealmakers form.

When Tenna layed there in the snow, his hands ripped off, he was too stunned to think. Just like in the prophecy, but… not. Spamton materialised before he could stop it, falling to the downy white surface and sunk right into the plush frost. His puppet body barely made a sound upon impact with the snow-covered ground.

The puppet looked at Tenna again, and huffed in disbelief, the corners of his grotesque mouth curling up ever so slightly. Is that what he was so afraid of? This whole time? The prophecy came true.

He was still alive.

The thing he’d consider a grim inevitability, the thing that haunted his dreams for years, a source of such inner turmoil and conflict all this time just happened right before him.

And he was still there, both of them were.

Puppet’s brows furrowed, giving the best approximation of anger his wooden face was capable of. This?! This was it?!

Spamton wanted to get his hands around that TV’s throat and finish the job himself, at this point.

He was then interrupted by the sound of peeping coming from the limp body's tailcoat. Spamton sprung up from his hands and knees and ran over to Tenna’s armless frame to rummage through his pockets - this is where that idiot box took her!

Before he managed to get his little hands on the chirping child, he was suddenly picked up by his coat by a fluffy paw.

“Mister Spamton, we can't steal from the wounded,” Kris’ friend sounded almost apologetic, “I know Mr. Tenna wasn’t very kind to you before, but there are different ways to settle this.”

Spamton wiggled his little legs in the air, angry as ever:

“[putty] mE [up down left right left] YOU LITTLE [Prince of Persia©] oFF [get your HANDS out of garbage disposal honey]!!!!!”

His wooden mouth clapped, trying to bite the paw that held him up. Ralsei wasn't discouraged, though he extended his hand a little farther.

“Mr… Spamton, was it? Please.” His tone was gentle, though exasperated and very, very tired. “Could you come back to being a pair of glasses? We really don’t have to deal with this right now.”

Spamton kept wiggling, though he ceased to clatter his teeth in an attempt to bite. He looked around, and saw Kris and Susie who showed up out of nowhere, and now were huddled around the TV’s slack figure.

They were trying to patch him up, and wake him up. Well, the salesman’s plan was busted, so he’ll have to look for alternatives. Like any good businessman, he already had some backups.

Ralsei thought it was suspicious how quickly Spamton let himself be convinced to let it go, but was too exhausted to dwell on it.

“YEA… OK[ie dokie!] WHAT ev3R yYUO [say IT TO MY FACE!!!] PR1NCE [highly marketable plushie!]

And with that, his spectacled form plopped into Ralsei’s paws, uncharacteristically softly, not to say gracefully. The prince slid that troublesome pair of glasses into his pocket with a shaky sigh.

__

The rest was easy, Spamton thought to himself: wait until they were in Castletown, and re-spawn somewhere close enough to wherever the TV was, so that you can slip his little clever hands into his coat and get your little girl back.

Only it took a little while until the TV was brought back into town, which meant Spamton had to lay low until that time. He couldn’t let that fluffy loser put him in the inventory box, cause heaven knows he wouldn’t be able to get out of there on his own.

He couldn’t be noticed wandering around town either, cause said fluffy loser would probably grab him by the scruff of the neck and lock him up, so he’d end up where he started.

He also couldn’t spend too much time on this, cause he had to be loaded and ready for the next time Kris is here for the next adventure, or at least available if the kid needs a pair of helping eyewear. That’s why he’s here in the first place - everything beats a refreshing sleep in the dumpster, but also… It was nice to feel useful for a change.

Spamton’s dreams and aspirations were out the window, the mere possibility of getting to be anything else than what he already was seemed so far, far away. That body in the basement was an anchor for the thin threads of sanity he still had left. Helped him to stay fixed on some end-result that promised retribution, that would make it feel like it was all going to be worth it in the end. A stepping stone towards something greater.

The discomfort and humiliation were much easier to bear if you had some goal to look forward to, and now Spamton had… nothing.

Well, not nothing. His new friend, the only person out there who could understand him, really, gifted this discarded puppet a new purpose. He couldn’t go free, but Kris… He was more than happy to live vicariously through them. Call it an act of generosity.

Kris was the priority now, a little light in the tunnel of his utterly hopeless existence, but there was also… The Pipis. Spamton hasn’t decided what is going to happen with her once he gets her back only to return into that kid’s inventory. Maybe they’ll make space for her in there, just one measly spot in the ‘ole trunk can’t be so much to ask when he gives them his whole being to use as a favour.

Maybe there’s someone reasonable in the city that can watch her when he’s away, if that doesn’t work out. Well - now he knew what he was going to do until they dragged that dumb piece of junk here.

Chapter Text

Spamton looked at the sleeping pair, both small enough they could fit in his annoyingly tiny arms.

‘Maybe this was a bad idea’, he thought in a rare moment of foresight. Maybe it was better to leave her with Tenna, just look at them. They seemed… so happy and peaceful together.

And heaven, didn't that make Spamton want to tear her away from him even more. Why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to have a room, and a bed, and the kid, and new arms, and the Lightners looking for his new home?

Why does Spamton get this mess of a body, and no freedom, and no place to call his own? He turned red just thinking about it, but his fuming anger turned into anguish in a blink of an eye.

A glitch tore through his face, like a reminder that this train of thought needed to be abandoned, stat. First of all he wanted to help Kris, it was his own idea and now, his purpose. It was a good thing, the man tried to remind himself.

Second of all, was Tenna all that happy? Didn't seem like it, not from his earlier outbursts, and not from the private moment he just witnessed. For all intents and purposes, this was his metaphorical dumpster. Well, even though it was much more comfortable than an actual dumpster. With people who cared about him. And a bed. And a Pipis, that should have been with Spamton in the first place-

He lunged at the bed squeezing Tenna in his jointed little hands.

There goes his plan.

What Spamton was supposed to do was to snatch the kid and bolt, but seeing Tenna so small, and glooby, and defenseless made him want to grab him and… and what? He had no idea, as he didn't exactly think ahead in that brief moment of confused, misdirected rage.

The price he paid for that bout of rashness was getting catapulted across the room, where his head made sudden and rather painful contact with the wall. It was a fair exchange for trying to squish the cathode for no apparent reason, the puppet noticed, though it was too late for foresight this time.

“AAAAAAAA What the HELL was that?” Tenna, already having grown about 10 sizes, shrieked in panic. He was big enough that he barely fit inside the room, which made for an interesting contrast with the utter terror on that TV’s face. Especially, knowing that the someone whom he was so horrified of was barely as tall as his foot.

“HAY TH4T [wasp] [$#*@]NG [rude guests bring you down?]. GImmiE [gimmie gimmie] mY [[PIPIS]] b ACK!!!!” Spamton screeched horrifically as he was picked up by the collar. He barely managed to finish the sentence before he was tossed outside the door.

“HUH THAT WAS WEIRD? HUH DARLING???”, Spamton heard from behind the TV Room door, “WHATEVER THIS WAS I HOPE IT DOESN'T COME BACK”.

__

The puppet, tossed away like he usually was, sat on the floor outside the TV room pathetically. His little hands were tucked in between his splayed out legs like a porcelain doll in a toy store display window.

He was suddenly pushed harshly forward, landing straight on his face.

The Queen, seemingly unaware he was even there, tripped dramatically over the unsuspecting little guy, which sent both of them tumbling.

However, instead of getting slammed against the floor (much like Spamton's head did) she summersaulted semi-gracefully and raised back up with her hands up in the air. She stood there proud, for a moment, holding the pose like a gymnast after a particularly tricky routine.

“[ Ew What Was That ]” She said flatly.

Spamton glued his face off the tile, already fuming, and looked up at her visors, which only displayed a big, red “LMAO”.

“YUO [no.] WE11 [HOO HOO] I [A.M] U [personal portable computer] [$@*%]!!!!”

“[ Haha. Yea I Know Who You Are, Spam Man: You Just Look Kinda Gross Now ]” she replied mirthfully, while the screen on her visors shifted the caption to “TRUE”.

Then, without missing a beat, she added: “[ Wanna Go With Me To See What That Other Guy Has In His Room ]”, and looked down at Spamton with a pout.

“[HWÆT] THE H33L ARE YOU TALKING a

bout!!!

YOU TOSSED ME [out] OF MY [humble abode]. YOU SPIT IN MY [nose] AND PULLED MY [nose]. [acid pool]ED THE [PIPIS RUG] FROM UNDER MY [nose] AND YOU WANT TO BE MY [Toy Story]?????? NO WAY [Fernando]!!!! [DISs] AIN'T GONNA [BEE]>”

Spamton's chest heaved with anger, and from the sheer effort of screaming all of this out. Queen just looked at him and smiled, completely unphased.

“[ Hey Who Said Anything About Being Friends Lmao I Just Asked Cause I Thought You Like To Steal Shit ]” She shrugged, but didn't look particularly down about the rejection. She was, however, still looking at him expectantly.

Spamton winced, since he knew well what she was referencing. She was right, of course, given his track record with Neo (not that he’d call it stealing), though it didn't seem like a jab at him, weirdly enough. Her face looked completely neutral, her tone betrayed no ire or underlying resentment, it was like she just… seemed to genuinely want to ask him to come along. Well, she's always been wacky.

“[ Also I Forgot About All That But IDK. Not My Kingdom Anymore So It's Not Like I Care If You Steal Stuff Here. ]”

She scratched her chin, and looked pensive for a moment, but her face brightened quickly, as she looked back at Spamton.

“[ What I Mean Is. I'm Not Gonna Try To Do All That™ Anymore]” The laptop added with a grin, “[Unless You Try To Steal My Shit Again]”

“[ Then I'm Gonna Let Swatchy-Watchy Deal With Your Ass ]”

She leaned down to pat Spamton's arm amicably, while her visor displayed the word: “TRUE”. Upon noticing how dirty said arm was, the Queen jerked her hand away, and wiped it on her leggings with mild disgust.

“OKAY I'LL [get going] WITH YOU, [what-ever mom!!!]”

“[ Okay Whatever Lmao I Was Just Being Considerate]”

“[ But Yeah You Can Come If You Want ]”

The Addison decided not to grace her with a reply - he just sighed, picked himself up from the floor, and followed her, as the wooden limbs clicked pathetically on the stone tile.

__

They had no trouble getting into Ralsei’s room, on account of it being unlocked and empty. Not just empty of Ralsei, but very empty in general. Queen made her way to one of the walls, tapped on it, then scratched and chipped it with a sharp fingernail. She hummed with a pout.

“[This Is Kind Of A Bust]”

“[ There’s No Meat Or Fruit In His Walls Either ]”

“WELL [ well, well ]”, Spamton replied, “THERE’S NO[ting] to ST EEL OR [fluffy little paw]N OFF EIT HER” He looked up at the Queen, who was eyeing him kind of suspiciously. “WH at?! YOU whER3 THE O/nE WHO [exclusive invite!]ED ME”

The laptop Darkner did not reply for a moment, and asked blankly: “[Ok Lmao I Don’t Care About That]” She paused for a moment, and then added:

“[ I Was Just Thinking: Why Are You Even Here ]”

Spamton was too stunned to speak. “I AL[ready set go!!!!] TOLD YOU-”

“[No That’s Not What I Mean]”, she interrupted before he could wind himself up any further, “[I Mean Like In General What Are You Doing Here. Are You Up To Something Weird Again]” she added, looking uncharacteristically serious. It’s not like they were close at any point, so what’s with all the questions?

Whenever the Queen of the Cyberworld had any business with Spamton, she’d deal with him through Swatch, who was much better equipped with handling his hot-headed temperament, so this direct confrontation was surprising. Even with his Benefactor’s help, many Darkners and Lightners alike found him grating. Queen too, would rather delegate business with Spamton to her faithful peon, rather than meet him personally.

But they were aware of each other, Spamton of her moreso, since she was the literal ruler of his Dark World. They had polite conversations during numerous royal parties - even shared moments of friendly banter. This amicable dynamic was likely only possible because they didn’t have to deal with one another on a regular basis.

He’d also beg at her doorstep when they’d throw him out of his apartment, and she’d close the door on him, which didn’t do anything for strengthening their relationship.

He’s not gonna tell her shit.

“HÆHAhHAHÆÆHAHÆ” The spam email cackled, “Y WOULD [EYE] TELL Y0U YTHING DO YU0 [fink] I’M A [genuine pyrate 25% off]? DID [CATHODE] PUT YOU UP TO [DISS] [$#!^] ⁈ DID

HE???

HE [threw up] ME OUT OF HIS [room for improvement] AND NOW HE SENDS THE [law enforce mint] AFTER ME?”

“[ Dude What I Just Wanted To Know If You’re Gonna Bother Noelle Again ]” She got closer to the puppet, and leaned down to stare him in the eye. “[ But Now You Got Me Interested Cause I Love Being Nosy ]” She crouched next to him, and continued: “[ Lmao Do You Still Have Beef With Your Ex It’s Been A Decade Move On ]”

Spamton got red in the face, as his jaw started clapping uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back in their sockets while he grew more and more livid - Queen winced at the jarring, glitched out sounds the puppet continued to let out of his rattling mouth. If this is where her inquisitiveness led her, she was never going to ask anyone a personal question ever again.

In his outburst, the Darkner forgot about the promise he made to himself to tell the ruler nothing. The weight of the implication that he was not over the CRT (lies and fabrications) made him laser focused on a mission to deny everything and provide a plausible reason for why he was in Tenna’s room earlier. Plausible, only cause it was the only actual reason he was there! There were no other reasons to even conceive of!

“I DON’T HAVE [100% genuine wagyu] WITH THAT DAMN [antique entertainment set] THAT I’M [dinner is not 0ver]!” I’M [overdrafting fees and how to avoid t]HIM I’V B EN SO [overcompensating much?] HIM I WAS NEVER [under] HIM IN THE [furst] PLACE!” he wheezed, “[[WATT]] I’M NOT OVER IS MY [bundle deal!] OF [Joy!] BEING STUCK WITH [hem]!

Queen was only half-listening, as she was currently rummaging through her pockets. “[ Okay ]” She unrolled what seemed to be a flat mouse pad with a panorama of the Cyber City, and placed it on the floor next to the window.

“[ Oh You Were Talking To Me ]” She chuckled, unphased by her faux pas, [Yeah So That’s Deeper Than I Wanted To Go. I Thought You Were Gonna Have Some Fun Gossip ]” Distracted by her re-decorating, she turned away from the puppet, who was stunned enough by her audacity that he stopped seething. The ruler looked at the finished work, pleased with herself, despite the fact she didn’t do anything of value.

“[ This Room Looks Less Sad Now. Carpet. ]” She declared, and didn’t wait for an answer, or acknowledgement of any kind. “[ So You Want To Get Your Kid Back?]” Even with her back turned away from him, Spamton could hear the pout in her voice. “[I Can’t Help With That But I Can Borrow You Mine ]”

_____

So now, he was sitting in Castle Town’s Top Bakery, with his face plopped on the table and turned at the wall, which his unfocused gaze was currently pointed to. The happy bustling in the background seemed not to affect him, as he was the image of misery itself, the usually pink-and-yellow glasses covering Spamton’s eyes were clouded with glitchy black.

Not only wasn’t he any closer to getting his Pipis back, he was now saddled with watching… Queen’s son? He spent plenty of time watching him when they were both stuck in Kris’ inventory anyway. Well, that wasn't it: not watching, just witnessing what the kid was doing, which was always ‘whatever he wanted’.

So just like in the inventory, the kid did what he wanted to do, and Spamton just… sat there and witnessed. Currently, he was witnessing Lancer sitting perched on top of the counter, and offering cookies to anyone who'd come in.

“DON'T YOU [fink] THIS ISN'T [illicit business practices] [buoy]? HOW ARE YOU [gone]A MAKE [CA$H M0N€Y] GIVING [stuff it up you ugly @$$!!!] FOR [finally… I'm finally!]”

“Hohohoho! Stinky Uncle, don't worry your big freaky head, this self-made Boy knows business like nobody's business!”

Spamton groaned, and decided not to dispute the monicker the kid had given him. First of all, he already tried, fruitlessly. The fact that the lil guy was just too cute to get mad at didn't make it any easier to fight him about it, and it's not like the boy was wrong. He was pretty stinky.

“I'M JUST GONNA [mark as spam?] THAT [neigh mmm] YOU [your call has been forwarded to an automated message system]ED ME“

Spamton mumbled, approaching the counter. He stood on his tippy toes, caught the edge of the pulpit in his little hands, and with no little effort dragged himself up, his joints clacking as he did. The door rang as some customer stepped through the threshold.

“[Swatch] HOW IT'S DONE [kid]” He huffed, still winded from trying to get on higher ground.

“OH SHI[take mushrooms]!”

He quickly ducked back down, almost falling completely - fortunately, the hollow puppet body was light enough he could hold on without using that much force.

Elnina and Lanino.

Spamton couldn’t let them see him. They were one of the last people he wanted to see him right now - other than any of the Addisons, most of the Cyber City residents, most of the TV world Darkners… He had to suppress a sigh for fear he’d give away his presence behind the counter.

The couple approached the counter, ordered their two Dark Burgers to be merged into a DD-Burger, collected a free Lancer Cookie, and sat at one of the tables in the corner to share their meal.

‘Fucking fantastic’, Spamton thought. He knew he was going to make a lot of racket if he dropped himself down on the floor now, even if he were to do it gently. So, he's going to hang there until the lovebirds are done with their food.

“Your teeth shine like icicles when you take a bite out of that DD burger, my dewd-drop!” Lanino exhaled, in a lovesick voice. How could someone sound like they're pining for a person who was right there? These two always drove him up the wall a little bit with their lovey-dovey business. Well, not always, mostly when he and the CRT were fighting.

“My radiant Sun, your scalding fingers wrapped around this boy-shaped cookie look like flames swallowing my moon-shaped heart!” Elnina replied, and looked at her partner wistfully.

Their proclamations of love turned into hushed whispers, which would usually make Spamton’s ears perk up - the best business is made on secrets. This time, he was almost relieved - hearing these two blabber their sweet nothings at each other was enough for him to completely phase out whatever they were saying. On top of it all, his joints were starting to hurt from hanging on to the countertop.

The hushed conversation the couple was having started becoming more and more audible, so in spite of himself, Spamton’s attention was swiped back to what they were saying - and what he just managed to catch was enough for him to almost fall to the floor.

“...And he was gloobier than I’ve ever seen him!” Elnina’s stage whisper could be heard in every corner of the small bakery.

“But don’t you think he has plenty of reasons to be, my sweet mist? After all that happened?” Lanino replied, “The Lightners, the attack, and…”

“I know, I know my darling moonglow.” They both went quiet for a beat. Elnina picked a couple of loose crumbs from the tabletop with her finger, nervously. “I’m just wondering if there’s anything we can do… We’ve known each other for so long” She fiddled with her thumbs “And we’re kind of dependent on him, still. Where he goes, we go with him”

“Even here,” Lanino sighed, “I know. I just don’t think there’s anything that we can do, he just needs time to process all this and get used to the new situation.”

More whispering, Spamton could hear a couple of words and jumbled sentences like “with the way he’s been behaving” and “just awful”, or something like “we don’t owe him anything”. Then hints of: “...deserves this” and “...sn’t treating us all that well”.

Lanino put his hand on hers, in a gesture of comfort. “But maybe, with the change of scenery… maybe he’ll be back to normal, eventually. Or maybe someone will adopt him!”

Elnina looked at her partner sceptically. “You think that would fix everything?”

“I think it’d be a good start” Lanino replied, thoughtfully.

Spamton felt a shiver pass him at the thought, the mere possibility of Tenna getting adopted pissed him off. No doubt, because the vision of the TV getting his happy ending, an easy way out was just unacceptable.

“And we’ll be forced to go with him” she sighed, “Now I really hope he’ll get out of this slump before then.” She broke the tip of the Lancer cookie’s head, and munched on it, pensive. “And what if he doesn’t? We’ll just be stuck with him like this…”

Lanino hummed, “Let’s look on the bright side my rain cloud - there are so many Darkners thriving in this city. Maybe he can find something worthwhile here… or someone” he looked at his partner knowingly, with a little smirk. Elnina chuckled, though with little mirth.

“You’re right, though I don’t think it’s gonna happen like that. Not unless he finally… you know” She laughed nervously. “But maybe, the small creature he had with him today…? It did look like it cheered him up, maybe he just needs… a new family, if…” She said the last part so quiet, Spamton could barely hear it, but still emphasised it: “...Dreemurs tossed him away”

“Maybe…” Lanino replied, and tried to take a bite out of the huge burger, but the contents just fell on the plate. He sighed. Elnina took his temporary silence as a chance to speak up again.

“Don’t you think it looked…” She halted, not sure how much she should be saying out loud. Even when Tenna wasn’t around, there were certain things they were simply too nervous to talk about. “Don’t you think that… little thing looked a lot like…?”

Lanino cut her off, sounding a little anxious: “Yes, I noticed my droplet.” His tone was curt, but careful: “But let’s not… bring it up. Especially not in front of Tenna, or anywhere he could hear. You know how he gets when anyone mentions him.”

Spamton felt as if something was locked in his throat, the inescapable feeling they were talking about him. He was almost flattered - his absence rendered Tenna so wrecked that his name became a taboo that haunted the TV world. All press is good press, right? No matter what his PR people used to tell him.

After all that time, Tenna just couldn’t forget about him, huh? He saw a sliver of it with his own eyes, he had a front row seat to CRT’s breakdown thanks to the Lightners. It felt strangely validating - it wasn't only him who couldn't get over what they had.

The other part though… He could see the little hatchling comforted Tenna, that was undeniable. It was a stark contrast, to see him so calm after how he got in the TV world, back then… Spamton almost couldn’t recognise him.

He always had the tendency to get a little glooby, but nothing like this. Panicked, desperate, utterly pathetic. This was not how he remembered his larger-than-life partner. Spamton imagined Tenna must have gotten over him right away, wouldn’t he? The egotistical diva, who led to his demise with his scheming and shady contracts. Did the mail-man’s absence really… hit the CRT that hard?

But the kid made things better for him, so that was… Good? It was one thing for Spamton to make his own conclusions, and something completely different to hear it from people who apparently saw Tenna suffer through all these years. Harder to dismiss, somehow. Making the perspective of taking it all away a bit more daunting.

It made the man want to scream. Both from the strain, and from having to hear everything the couple were saying.

Lancer was still perched on top of the counter, drinking his fifth glass of milk and clearly eavesdropping on the couple’s conversation.

He raised one of his hands to poke Lancer with his little wooden finger, in a last-ditch attempt to have someone get him out of this situation. He nudged his little leg, which finally got the boy's attention. He was about to address him outloud, but Spamton put a shushing finger to his mouth, with as much pleading desperation painted on his face as he could muster.

Lancer fortunately got the hint, and understood Spamton’s wild gestures that urged the boy to get him down as quietly as possible. He leaned his back on the wall, almost ready to cry from relief. He massaged his stiff joints carefully, not to make a sound. The couple continued their conversation.

Their meals finished, Elnina was fiddling with the empty wrapper of that cookie. “I do think the little thing can help him get out of the slump”, she smiled faintly, “if nothing else works, at least”

“Maybe you’re right, my darling” Lanino stood up from his seat, and went to toss out the trash left on their tray, next to the counter. Spamton held his breath.

Still unaware of his presence, the weatherman came up to his partner and offered her a hand, to help her up. She obliged, with a sigh. “Don’t be so overcast, my sweetest. No matter the whims of our former boss, the weather…” he started, and she twirled, as Lanino spun her closer to him.

“Always sticks together!” Elnina giggled, and they went out the door in much better spirits.

Spamton cursed under his breath, and slumped on the floor pathetically.

“[Thanks and Have Fun!] K[ID], I WOULD HAVE [ea t en dirt] IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU” He smiled at Lancer weakly, but surprise shaken him out of his stupor. “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN [doing time for crimes you did not commit???]”

Lancer was currently spinning on his back in the middle of the cafe, only half-listening to what Spamton was saying. “Milkshake!!” He shouted back, still spinning.

Spamton’s mouth tightened, he was so unsure how to react. Why was he here again? He could just go.

But where would he go? What would he do? Grab the kid and run? Where?

And now, after listening to the weather people he felt really shitty about the whole plan too. Maybe if Tenna wasn’t so… pitiful right now, he would have an easier time doing what he needed to do. Could he do anything to make him give up the Pipis on his own? Probably not, and definitely not until the CRT’s pity party is over. It’s not like Spamton could find a Lightner to take the TV in, they barely listened to him even back when he was successful. On the other hand, this ridiculous compulsion to feel needed will keep the cathode all miserable until he does.

There were so many Darkners here doing completely fine here, finding their own purpose without being all dramatic about it. Spamton even managed to find something to do in the meantime, why couldn’t he?

Well, his “something” involved the Lightners too, he noticed reluctantly, and Tenna wasn’t like most Darkners. Maybe there was some destiny waiting for him down here, something to make Tenna feel more useful. He couldn’t entertain Lightners, how about entertaining Darkners?

“HEY [you!!!] LITTLE [pump]KIN CAN YOU [press F1] ME WITH [sum] [thing]?”