Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.

YOUR ANSWERS.

YOUR WONDERFUL CREATION…

Will now be discarded.

No one can choose who they are in this world.

Your

name

is…

“SPAMTON!” A tinny voice screeches behind me as I blink my eyes open. Glancing back to check, I can see it’s some kind of cat-looking thing in a suit and tie, clutching a bowler hat that threatens to fall off its head. Its face, hands and feet are white, but the rest of its head and little ear-like protrusions are pink. “YOU LOW-LIFE, GET BACK HERE!”

…Huh?

“IN YOUR [Dream big!], PIP[Squeak]! THIS [[Limited time deals!]] IS [Mine, all mine!!!]!” I say, almost tripping on a sewer grate as I sprint into… ONCOMING TRAFFIC?! NO, NONONO, HELL NO. I quickly pivot back to the sidewalk, ducking into the closest alleyway to lose it- 

“[%$@!]!” It’s a dead end. Shit.

Standing between me and freedom is a chainlink fence with barbed wire coiled around the top. A locked gate sits firmly in the center, and giving it a quick once-over, it’s quickly apparent that the lock is in mint condition - probably replaced after someone had the same idea as me. Hearing the steps of my pursuer grow closer and closer, the thrum in my chest picks up. My vision zeroes in on a dumpster next to the chainlink fence, and after a moment’s hesitation, I bolt over and jump up to grip onto the side of one lid, wiggling my stumpy legs as I pull myself up with great effort. Glancing back for a moment, I can see a shadow approaching. Panic spurring me forward, I lift the other half-lid and slip inside, surprised for a moment how… Normal it smells. Despite it reeking of garbage, I don’t feel any nausea or discomfort - it’s just another smell. Familiar, almost. How did I even get here, anyways? Wasn’t I just in some dark void?

I don’t dwell on it long, however, as my pursuer’s footsteps slowly stop in front of my hiding place. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I wait with bated breath. Willing the thumping in my ears to quiet down, despite the fact that I’m likely the only one that can hear it. The silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, only broken up by slight shuffling outside.

“Damn slippery salesman…” It grumbles, sighing before the footsteps slowly fade, more mutterings that I can’t make out through the metal walls that blend into the sounds of the city. I wait another few beats, hearing nothing but the honking and skittering of cars, before slowly opening the lid to peer out into the alleyway.

After letting out a breath, I climb out and drop to the concrete, clutching something to my chest. When had I..?

“FINALLY [[Lost?]] HIM…”  I hold up the item - a strange capsule the size of my arm, with a giant crack down the side, a small hole in the glass with a glowing… Cyan residue. “...” My jaw hangs open in disbelief. “...[$#%!].” It’s gone. It’s gone.

…What’s gone? What the hell is going on right now? Why can I feel a creeping sense of dread sinking into my very bones?

“[%$#!], [&*%@], [&%$#], WHERE IS IT?!” I drop the capsule, frantically looking around the alleyway. “THE [Waste not, want not!]!” I leap back into the dumpster, tearing open trashbags, throwing empty food and drink containers, turning the inside of this thing upside down looking for… ‘It’. What is ‘it’, anyways? What am I looking for..?

“IT’S [Gotcha] BE IN HeRE, [Come on!]!! [You Stupid] [[HeartShapedObject]], WHERE DID YOU [[Wake me up before you go-go]]?!” My hands scrape the bottom of the dumpster, but I still keep digging, throwing trash this way and that in an attempt to find… A heart?

‘Well that’s a pretty weird goal. What would I need a heart for?’ I think to myself, only to feel my hands seize up. I blink, surprised at my own thoughts - the clarity of a voice that… Isn’t my own? Huh?

“[Hoo] SAID THAT?” I call out, looking around to find the source of the voice.

‘Huh? I don’t think I heard anything…’

“[You little slime!] I CAN [Heard] YOU!” I grit my teeth, my jaw clacking loudly as if it were made of plastic. 

‘What am I, anyways..?’ I wonder, wishing there was some kind of mirror or something to look into.

I open my mouth to speak again, before things start to click into place. The broken container… The strange voice. The hazy feelings I’ve had, the… Instinctual breathing. With dawning horror, I climb out of the trash and unbutton my threadbare suit, pulling my itchy sweater up to look down at my chest. Amongst the mass of ever-present green wires sits a pulsing cyan heart, wrapped tightly amongst more bright green strings, held firmly in place.

“...HOLY [[Cungadero]].” I(?) let my(?) sweater fall back down. “[Hello? Can anyone hear me…?] ARE    YOU [Their]?”

‘Huh..? Who am I talking to?’

“YOU. [Eye] AM [[Talk too much]] TO YOU.” Spamton quickly shuffles over to a broken, boarded-up window, gazing into a shard of glass. A cyan sheen glints in his duo-colored glasses. “I KNOW YOU CAN [Listen up!] ME.”

‘...Me? But.. Am I talking to myself..?’

“[[LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]]. YOU AREN’T [Me, myself and I].” Spamton squints, inspecting the new cyan glow amongst the yellow and pink. Weird.

‘Wait, you aren’t me? But how..?’ I pause. Right. My thoughts sound nothing like the voice coming out of my- …Out of Spamton’s mouth. And what’s with those tics? I’m pretty sure two of those were song clips. ‘Am I the… “HeartShapedObject” you were looking for?’

“[[CORRECT!]]. I- … [Borrowed]    YOU. FROM THAT [[Ratatouille, now on Blu-Ray DVD!]].” Spamton’s ever-present smile somehow seems to widen. Getting a look at him, I can’t help but feel both unsettled and… Slightly endeared(?) at his appearance. He looks like a living doll, something you’d find at a discount store’s weird halloween lineup. But it’s kind of charming? I was always told I find weird things cute, though… “[Hey, listen!], ARE YOU [[Pay $4.99]] ATTENTION?” Oh, right. 

‘Uh- Yeah, sorry. What… Uh. Jeez, I have a lot of questions. Um. Your name is Spamton, right?’

“[[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]], SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!” The doll-like man boasts, buttoning his coat and dusting off a few pieces of trash clinging to it.

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Spamton! I’m-... Ah.. My.. My name is.. Uh.’ My name is… What, exactly? Do I have a name? Did I ever have one? What… Was I doing before this, anyways? Something about creating a Vessel?

“[Hey, hey, hey!], FORGET YOUR [[Insert Username And Password To Log In]], [#00FFFF]!” Spamton chuckles, though it sounds forced. “I DON’T DO [[Titlecard]]S, ANYWAYS.”

‘Oh… Uh. Right. Why do you talk like that?’ I wince immediately. That was probably rude, actually. ‘Um. Sorry if that’s… Sensitive.’

“DON’T [Panic attack!!!], KID! IT’S JUST [[Hyperlink Blocked]]. EVERY-BUDDY [Deals, deals!] WITH IT AT SOME POINT, Ri<GH T?” He waggles his eyebrows, something that definitely shouldn’t be possible for a plastic creature, but nothing makes sense right now.

‘R-Right, yeah. So… What… Do we do now?’ Spamton’s hands instinctively start tugging at his sleeves, feeling the grooves of each fused knuckle. I will myself to stop as I feel his discomfort at the action. ‘I’m, like… Basically possessing you right now, right?’

“[Less is more]-” Spamton grumbles, letting out a bit-crushed sigh. “[[The price is right!]]” Another grunt. He harshly smacks himself in the side of the head, something that sends waves of pain pulsing through our shared skull. “MORE. OR LESS. BUT I THINK THERE’S SOME[Thing] YOU CAN [[Press F1 for   ]] HELP WITH.”

‘..I can?’ I pause, thinking it over for a moment. I don’t know this guy. He clearly stole me from someone else. He’s likely some back-alley, weird looking salesman that is at the absolute rock bottom pit of his life with 0 intent to clean himself up and get out of the hole he probably dug himself into. But also… I’m stuck with him. I saw those wires constricting the cyan heart that seems to be me. I’m pretty sure they were wrapped around him, too. If I refuse, he might… Hurt me somehow. And considering I was so easy to keep in a glass container, I probably wouldn’t get far on my own. Internally sighing, I commandeer Spamton’s head to nod. ‘Okay. I’ll help, so long as you help me find my Vessel.’

“[[Deal me in, boss!]], HAEHAEHAEHAEHE–!” Spamton violently glitches, something that causes a wave of nausea to blur the corners of our vision. “I’LL DO [Anything…] TO MAKE YOUR [Wish] COME [[True!]]!!” 

‘Okay, uh.. Heh.’ I laugh nervously, a sense of dread creeping up. I feel like I'm going to regret this.. ‘So what did you need help with..?’

“LET ME [[Show and Tell]] YOU!” Spamton cackles, speeding off into the streets as if he wasn’t chased into a corner mere minutes prior.

‘Woah, woah- Slow down! Where the heck are you taking me?!’ I scream into his mind, my heartbeat picking up, the little cyan heart tugging at its strings.

“DON’T YOU WORRY YOUR [[Ant sized]] [[Head, shoulders, knees and  ]]--” Spamton smacks his head again, a little too close to the temple, sending him stumbling into a pole. He rams into it with a comical splat sound, the impact reverberating through our skull. “[Ow, ow, owww…] [[$%#!]]”

‘Hey- Agh… Be careful, dude! Are you trying to get us both killed?’ 

“[[No, no, no!! Please, I–]] WE’RE FINE!” He shakes it off, clambering back to his unsteady feet to resume running. 

‘Spamton, I can literally feel the headache you’re dealing with. Please just tell me what's going on.’ My blunt thoughts roll through his mind, disappointment coming through loud and clear. He simply grunts in response, running toward some kind of pulsing pillar of dark material, sitting on the other side of a red-carpet bridge that seems far too impractical to be suspended over waves of bit-crushed water. ‘What… Is that?’

Spamton doesn’t reply, though. His eyes are trained on something else - an open window several feet high in the wall of a grandiose, cyber-looking mansion. If I had my own eyes, they would be wide as dinner plates looking at what seems to be a woman’s face built into the central entrance to the building. If the bright neon sign is any indicator, either this is a queen’s mansion, or the woman herself is named Queen. Every other building curls around her, as if it were a sudden addition, or merely appeared one day, casting all other structures aside in its wake. That red carpet almost looks like a tongue with its positioning… Ew. 

I’m shaken out of my feng shui appraisal, however, as Spamton trips over himself, tumbling face-first into the pavement. ‘Ow- Spamton, why are we going here? What did you need my help with?’

“DON’T WORRY, [#00FFFF], IT’LL ALL MAKE [Cents] SOON!” He assures, though I don’t feel comforted in the slightest. That feeling of dread and apprehension is back. “THIS IS GONNA BE OUR BIG [[GLASS_SHATTERING.SFX]]!”

‘Our… What? How did you do that with your mouth?’ I almost chuckle incredulously. This guy is like a walking soundboard.

Spamton doesn’t reply, as he’s started to love doing. Instead, he marches onward, gunning it for the mansion entrance. Two guards sit outside, both in dark blue suits. They kind of look like birds…

“[Look up and live], [[HeartShapedObject]]!” The salesman calls out, running straight for the guards who are already readying attacks. A flock of birds..?

‘What?! Spamton, just talk to me! What’s your plan here?!’ I’m starting to freak out a little now. Is this some kind of suicide mission? What did I do to piss this guy off that badly?!

I don’t get my answer, as with a snap of his fingers, Spamton summons a bunch of little clones with wings, holding… Eggs?

“[PIPIS].” The… Uh. ‘Pipis’. Are airlifted straight into the oncoming bird flock, their carriers disappearing into sparkles to drop their payload, exploding violently upon contact. The guards are stunned for a moment, and that’s all Spamton needs as he begins shouting about deals and prices. The very words fly out of his mouth like popups, careening into the bird-butlers, staggering one and spooking the other into dodging. The salesman does as any good salesman should and takes his chance, sprinting past the two disgruntled guards and into the mansion foyer. As soon as Spamton sets foot in the building, chaos erupts. Two workers faint, while another one screams.

‘Spamton, look out!’ 

A gangly thing with a wire attached to its face lets out a screech and begins running towards us, only for Spamton to glitch violently, appearing next to a bookshelf and out of harm’s way. 

“[Nice throw!], SUCK> ER! HAEHAEHAHEAEHAE–” Spamton’s laugh is cut short as something hard smacks into us, throwing his body to the wall with a painful crack.

“Spamton.” A commanding, formal-sounding voice speaks from the blow’s direction. Everything is dark as Spamton feels around groggily for his glasses, breath picking up.

“Spamton.” The voice repeats, heels of pristinely shined shoes clicking against tile. “I never expected you to be so bold as to seek entrance to this place again.”

Finally, his hand brushes against the rim and he grips them, hurriedly placing them upon his face despite the throbbing pain in his arm. “HEY, HEY, DON’T [Count your [[PIPIS]] before they hatch] ME OUT YET, [Bird brain]! THAT DIDN’T EVEN [[GrazeUp]] ME!” He laughs, jaw rattling.

“Then you’d be smart not to do anything that warrants more force.” The figure speaks in a low, warning tone. With Spamton’s sight back, I look up to see our attacker. Carefully preened feathers and a white bird-like face, two-toned glasses compliment a monochrome suit that sports a few splashes of color, reminiscent of an art program I’ve never seen before. The man’s eyes sit narrow, fury burning bright, but I catch the hint of something else in his gaze… Contempt? Pity? Guilt..? I can’t make it out past Spamton’s vision swimming with an onset concussion. “Leave now and I will grant you my mercy.”

‘Hey, I think we should–’

“I CAN’T [Just do it!] THAT, [Switch 2].” Nevermind. Spamton grins, holding up a shaky hand to ready an attack. But Swatch seemed to have expected this. A mouse cursor drifts lazily from just beyond view, clicking on Spamton and trapping him in a selection box. Despite the seemingly 2-D nature of it, as the salesman bangs on the walls of his cage, all directions remain blocked. “HEY! LE T   ME [Get up and go!], [%$#@&*]!!”

“Please do not panic, everyone. The situation is under control and the threat is taken care of. Please tend to any injured and unstable until I return.” The bird-man completely ignores Spamton, turning to the rest of the foyer, who all applaud him before tending to their ‘wounded’. This whole situation doesn’t make any sense to me, and everything hurts like crazy. I don’t know what Spamton expected the outcome to be if this wasn't his first attempt, but… What the hell am I supposed to do? We’re in a selection box! 

“You. Are coming with me.” My thoughts are interrupted as the man leans in close, gritting his beak as he speaks. Spamton says nothing as he pulls the box along, ascending a pair of steps that lead to a giant pair of legs and two other sets of stairs. Sitting right before the legs, something catches my eye. A glint of light, floating mid-air and pulsating with energy. Glancing at our captor, he shows no signs of acknowledgement to the oddity, instead taking the right set of stairs, practically walking straight through it.

‘...Spamton, do you see that..? That… Light back there. At the legs.’

‘...’ He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating. ‘Yeah, I do. Faint shine on the legs, probably. Old lady keeps that thing more polished than a vintage car collector.’ I’m.. Taken aback for a moment. I didn’t realize his internal voice would be… So clear. And apparently, neither did he, as his jaw hangs agape for a second. ‘Hey, hey, wait- What did you do to me?’

‘I- What do you mean?’

‘Thinking! I’m thinking, and it isn’t givin’ me a migraine!’ 

‘What, you couldn’t- Hey, wait, what is the bird guy doing?’ 

Our little heart-to-heart is cut short as we’re loaded into… A cannon? And I swear I saw a label saying ‘USE IN CASE OF:’ with a picture of Spamton’s face.
“W  OAH, H<eY HEY! WATCH THE [Merchandising], [Bird brain]!” Spamton calls out, struggling to climb out, but completely lacking purchase inside the mechanism.

“Have a safe flight.” The bird-man says, the click of a button making my (literal) heart stop.

‘Ohh..’

“[#$%&]!”

The cannon fires, launching the both of us high into the air, Spamton’s body tumbling over itself as we both flail for some kind of purchase, some kind of slowing of our harsh descent. I feel frustration bubbling up, threatening to boil over and make me lose my cool. Sure, I can be patient, but only for so long. Spamton’s teeth clack together as panic blinds my judgement.

“THIS IS WHY I WANTED TO MAKE A [Plan], SPAMTON!” I screech, screwing our eyes shut while the world flies past. 

“ARE YOU [Killing] ME?! [[You]] DID [Jack and Jill ran –]” Thwack. The headache gets worse. I feel like I could vomit. “YOU DID [Diddly Squat]!!!”

“THE [$@%#] WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?! I’M JUST A [Heart.obj]!”

“DON’T YOU–” Spamton’s rebuttal is cut off as we land in a perfectly placed dumpster, easily big enough to fit a truck. His body skitters across the plane of garbage, coming to a stop as we thunk into the back of the bin. The world swims, garbage bags, takeout containers, food scraps all blending together in a sea of washed out colors as my vision swims, darkness threatening to claim my sight as Spamton’s eyes blink unevenly. I groan, part of me wishing I'd just stayed in that weird container. Spamton's body doesn't move, and a spike of panic wakes me up just enough to push through the pain.

‘...Spamton..? You there?’ My anger from earlier melts away, softening into concern. I wait a few moments for a response, but not even forcing control of his arm to poke his face nets a reaction. With a groan, I slowly spread my reach to the rest of his body, starting with the other arm. It’s definitely harder doing this on purpose now, likely due to how much damage we both took over the course of the literal hour I’ve been here. But with perseverance, I find myself able to prop myself up using Spamton’s arms. Or… My arms. For now, at least.

It takes a good chunk of time waiting and feeling out how controlling Spamton actually works. It’s kind of like trying to wake up a limb after it’s gone numb, feeling slowly spreading with a lingering tingle before the full-blown ache sets in. Ugh. That bird guy really did a number on his body. My vision swims, each movement sending waves of nausea-inducing pain through my limbs. Glancing down at my right arm shows that a few ball-jointed fingers are bent backwards, and I almost throw up right there and then. What is wrong with this place?

Letting out a shuddering sigh, I push myself onto my feet, stumbling as I try to find my balance. Something feels.. Wrong about how Spamton’s body moves - things clicking, scraping and locking up at random points. It’s impossible to tell if it's due to broken limbs or my own mistakes, but I grit my teeth and soldier forward, crawling, then stumbling, then crawling again. Until I make it to the edge of the plane of trash, using a broken vending machine to climb up to the lip and, mercifully, onto a catwalk that spans the edge. 

“Ugh…” I sigh, taking a moment to breathe, staring up at the gridded sky as I rest on my back. “This sucks.”

‘Heh. You’re tellin’ me.’

“Spamton!” I sit up, smiling, only to fall back down as pain stabs my limbs. “Ah- [#%$@]- You’re back!”

‘Yeah, yeah, [#00FFFF]. Why didn’t you do anything? We got our asses handed to us!’

“Me?!” I force us to sit up again, groaning. “The [Heck] was I supposed to do? I’ve never fought before!”

‘Quit pullin’ my leg, glowstick!’ Spamton scolded, waiting for some kind of ‘sike’. When I instead frown as best I can with his features, he pauses. ‘Wait, you’re serious?’

“[Yes]!” I almost trip over my own feet as I stand, stumbling into the guard rail. Gripping onto it for support, I begin limping to the elevator down. “I just.. Woke up, Spamton! And you decided to go [The Big Guns] blazing into a fight? Are you trying to kill us?!”

‘...’ Spamton is quiet for a short while, allowing me to crumple into the elevator and slap the button to begin our descent. ‘Fine. Battles here work in turns. You can [Attack], [Act], or use an [Item]. When a Darkener’s name is blue, you can pacify them with magic. When it’s yellow, you can spare them.’

“..Huh.” Like an RPG… Spamton continues to explain battle mechanics, then Darkners and Lightners. Something catches my attention, though. “Magic. You said there’s [a touch of magic!]?”

‘Yeah, what about it?’

“Was that the [Attack] you did earlier?” I pull us off the floor of the elevator right as the doors open, limping back out into the open. Spamton simply hums in agreement, so I continue. “Do you have any healing magic?”

‘... Mm.’

“That's not much of a response, bud.”

He sighs. ‘I do. Snap your fingers. Imagine… Something nice.’

Glancing down at my hand again, I hum. Looking at the other, it's in passable condition. Something nice… Uhh. A field of well-tended flowers comes to mind, so focusing on that, I snap my fingers. Nothing happens. I try again, but still nothing. “It isn't working.”

‘I can see that, genius.’ He groans. ‘Gimme my hand back.’

“..Right.” I focus on Spamton's left hand, envisioning a ball of yarn unravelling, and it quickly falls limp. “There.”

Wordlessly, the arm flexes, then snaps its fingers. In a puff of sparkles, a little angel Spamling appears and pats me on the head. The pain fades away as cracks and wounds heal. The hand I'm still controlling snaps into place and I shudder. “Eugh. Thanks.” The salesman simply scoffs, his hand going limp again. “...You don’t want the rest of your body back?”

‘Not really.’ He pauses for a moment. I can tell he’s thinking of something, but he’s definitely much better at keeping his thoughts to himself. I stretch a little, regaining control of the arm again to brush off the trash clinging to our clothes.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” I prompt, stumbling forwards again.

‘Nothing.’ He snorts. ‘Haven’t you ever walked before? You look like a baby deer. At least give me some dignity here.’

“Hey! For your information, no!” I scoff, though I can’t help laughing a little. “You.. Have a weird center of balance, okay?”

‘That tracks.’ A sigh. ‘Walking is just falling and catching yourself repeatedly. Might as well get used to it.’

Falling repeatedly, huh? That I can do. Taking another hesitant step forwards, I try to plant my foot down too late and fall straight on my face. “Ugh.”

‘You suck at this.’

“I can see that, genius.” Snickering a little into the cyber-looking dirt, I try to push myself up again, only to find my legs locking up again. “There’s something up with your legs, Spamton. Are you sure your [HealDeal] worked properly?”

‘...’ He’s quiet for a moment, a sting of frustration leaking through the mental link. ‘It did. This is just business as usual. Figure it out yourself.’

Wow, so helpful. I had almost forgotten how much of an ass this guy could be. Sighing, I begin experimenting with the motion of Spamton’s legs, finding where each one locks up. Thankfully, his arms seem to be longer than his legs, so pushing myself up isn’t actually as hard as I first thought. With one good push, I get enough momentum to stand upright, waving my arms wildly as I almost fall straight on my ass. “Hah! I did it!”

‘Good job.’ He comments, tone devoid of any emotion.

“Oh, shut it.” I roll my eyes, using my newfound confidence to take another step, this time actually managing to stay upright. “Practice makes [Perfect!]!”

So caught up in my little celebration, I almost don’t catch a dark shape moving in the corner of my vision. Shutting my mouth with a clack, my eyes widen, scanning the area.

‘Spamton, did you see that?’

‘[Correct]. We should [leaf].’

The feeling of static tingling at my extremities is enough to drive me forward, breath held in anticipation. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but something suddenly feels very, very off about this place. Another rush of movement causes me to whip around, only to find nothing but shadows. Was this trashyard always so dark?

“Who-” My voice cracks. “Who’s there?”

‘Dumbass, get the [$%#!] out of here!’

My legs are locked in place, hands trembling. The shadows grow longer before my eyes, my breathing picking up in pace. Something is wrong. ‘I– I can’t, I can’t move, I–’

‘Give me my body back, we need to LEAVE.’

“I-” My voice is caught in my throat, a surge of nausea forcing my jaws shut, lest I empty whatever meager scraps Spamton had eaten.

Something is coming. 

I don’t know what, I don’t know how I know, but something is coming and I need to move but I can’t–

My vision turns white as a thunderous boom fills my ears, Spamton throwing himself to the floor just in time to avoid whatever the hell caused the noise. Clambering back to his feet, his head turns to stare in horror at the source. Emerging from the shadows steps a being of pure darkness, only visible by a white outline that seems to follow its armor, forming a visor of sorts at the center of what looks like a horned helmet. It drags a weapon against the dirt, something that looks like a cross between a sword and a bat, its sharpened edge absorbing any light that dares touch its surface.

Spamton takes one good look at the creature, pure terror gripping his entire being, before he turns around and sprints for the exit. The horrible, booming scream the creature lets out is all that fills my ears as Spamton screws his eyes shut and prays.

Chapter Text

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, piles of garbage, machinery and waste bins blur past as Spamton’s legs burn and creak with haste. Our mouth tastes like copper and garbage, the distinct scent of ozone permeating the air, choking my haggard breaths. Two opposites blend into one in the face of true fear, the culmination of the tales of monsters and creatures that go bump in the night. The Boogeyman that sneaks under beds, the Spring-Heeled Jack that leaps from rooftops. Never in my short life have I seen this figure before, but my very Soul knows what it represents, what it’s here to do. As I glance back at that readied blade…

I know it is here to kill me.

It raises its weapon once more, a ring of blades forming a halo of death in front of it. Surely, I think to myself, this is it.

But Spamton, ever so slippery, dodges all but two blades careening towards us. The first just grazes his arm, a damage value of -38 popping up. The second is a direct hit, the next damage indicator being -60. Hissing in pain, Spamton falls to his knees.

‘I could use a little [generosity] here, [CMYK]!’

‘I– What do I do?! What is that?!’

‘Not important. I need you to [Fight], get your ass in gear!’

Fight? That thing?! Now I KNOW this guy is insane. But I don’t get any choice in the matter as my vision is ripped away from Spamton’s eyes, darkening until all I can see is my Soul for a moment. Then, with a flash, a battle screen fills my view.

        TP - 0%

        SPAMTON - 502/600 HP

        *The wind is howling.

Spamton’s words appear as nothing more than a text box as he speaks.

*REMEMBER WHAT I [teachers pet] YOU? [[Time’s Up!]] TO USE IT

Oh, good lord, okay. Scrolling through each available menu, I check Spamton’s items. It’s. It’s literally all Pipis. What is this. 

        *Spamton used the [PIPIS]!

        +40 HP

*[Hey, hey!] THAT’S [Mine, all mine!]!!

I don’t have time to respond as my Soul is pulled away from Spamton’s body, trapped in some kind of box. It’s still wrapped in green wires, one clearly linked to Spamton’s… Sprite? Like some kind of leash that follows with just enough slack to allow me to move around this confined space. I’m not offered much time to take in the sights, however, as an intricate-looking sword locks on, swiping past my Soul. A white outline appears, with the TP gauge filling up. Another appears, then another, and another, and another. It takes all of my concentration just to keep dodging, several swipes landing their mark. 

        -60

        -53

        -60

        -60

        TP - 26%

        SPAMTON - 309/600 HP

        *Smells like ozone.

*YOU [No] YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO [Dodge] THE [boolet] [Hail] RIGHT?

Gee, thanks. I sigh, taking a second to breathe. It doesn’t seem like I’m in a time limit on this… Battle screen. So I can actually think for once. Checking the [Act] menu, I have a few options… All of them have really weird names, though.

        Check - Useless analysis    

        DealMaker - [HOT DEALS] STRAIGHT FROM MY  - 16% TP

        Respite - Take a break. - 74% TP

…Okay, well.. I can only use two of these right now. Their descriptions aren’t very helpful here, but ‘Respite’ is probably something worth saving up for. I recall Spamton saying [Defend]ing increases TP and, rather obviously, boosts defense, but I would really like to know what I’m dealing with here… On the other hand, Spamton’s already at half HP. Wow this situation sucks. I attempt to ask Spamton for his input, but no sound comes out. Not even my own thoughts seem to get a reaction from him. The only ‘communication’ I’m allowed comes from the commands onscreen. It’s… A lot of pressure. But, taking a deep breath, I make my decision.

        *Spamton used the [PIPIS]!

        +40 HP

*FINE, YOU CAN [Like and share this with your  !] 

*BUT ONLY THIS [One time offer!]

If I had eyes, I'd roll them. I'm pulled back into the box as the figure's visor glints. Raising its weapon, I only have a moment to react as it slices the box I'm contained within in half, pulling it apart and sending shards of darkness toward me. I manage to weave between them, only to bump into one as the box pulls itself back together. This happens 3 more times, and by the third I manage to weave through without a single hit. I'm a little proud of myself for that.

        -40

        -39

        -40

        TP - 51%

        SPAMTON - 230/600 HP

        *Can you keep up?

Shit, I just need a little more TP to use ‘Respite’. I also notice that despite the damage values appearing during the ‘box’ segment, I don’t feel any pain. It seems like Spamton does, due to how he glitches, but there’s a level of disconnect that didn’t register until now. Giving him an apologetic glance, I choose [Defend]. I just need one more good turn, and have to pray that something with such a high TP cost is enough to turn the tables.

Appearing back in the box, I steel myself for another sword attack. Except, this time the figure holds out a finger and thumb, pointing at me in a way reminiscent of a finger-gun. The entire box is bathed in purple, pulsating light. Any thoughts of that motion being a taunt are thrown out the window as from the tip of its finger, several black, star-like shapes begin rushing towards me. Surprisingly, they’re quite easy to dodge by keeping to the top half of the box, timing each directional lunge in a zig-zag-like pattern. As the light narrows, I watch each remaining star begin to glow red, expanding as if under some kind of intense pressure. Sliding to the front of the box, I position myself in a wide gap between the last three stars, expecting them to keep expanding. My guess is wrong, however, as they burst. Still, I hold steady, not moving an inch as the arrows formed from the explosion just barely graze past, one disappearing right before it hits its mark.

I let out a shuddering sigh of relief as I’m pulled back to the menu view.

        TP - 90%

        SPAMTON - 230/600 HP

        *Time’s ticking.

        *(Y̸̞̬̞͌͝o̸͚͑͜u̵̬̻̔̾̈ͅ I can use RESPITE!)

Spamton makes no comment this time, and from my position, I can’t see his expression. I hope he isn’t mad at my dodging skills, but now’s the time to test my theory. A light pulses from my Soul, which floats away from Spamton’s chest, only to be yanked closer in a tug-of-war with the wires holding it in place. The cyan heart beats, a wave of dull light-blue light pulsing from the center.

        *Y̸̞̬̞͌͝o̸͚͑͜u̵̬̻̔̾̈ͅ I used RESPITE!

        *The world grows still.

        *I won! 

        *Got 0 XP and 10 D$.

I’m suddenly pulled back into Spamton’s body as the world slows, the echoing sound of a clock ticking being the only noise in this silent space. Glancing around, Spamton’s jaws hang agape, the entire city view around us bathed in a light-blue, washed out hue. 

“[#00FFFF]... Did you [Just Do It!] that..?”

‘I- Yeah. Wait, the-’ God, I don’t even know what to call it.

“[The Knight].” The edge of my vision fills with static as Spamton turns to look at it. It’s frozen in place with the rest of the world, but something about its gaze..

Tells me it is staring right at us.

“We;LL! TH1S WAS FUN! [[*LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER*]]! [Smell ya later!], BOZO! EHAEHAEHAEHAE–” Spamton cackles, running to the exit. I can feel The Knight’s gaze burning into the back of his skull as he runs, and I know he can feel it too. Clambering on top of a lone garbage can, he uses it as a launch-pad to climb over the (thankfully not barbed-wired) fence, dropping to the ground with a splat.

‘Where can we even-?’

‘I know a place.’

Spamton assures, sprinting off and rounding the corner into an alleyway almost on autopilot. A wave of fatigue washes over me as he runs, color slowly starting to bleed back into the world. The ticking begins to speed up, seemingly counting up to something.

‘Spamton, I.. I don’t feel too good.’

He glances around, gritting his teeth as he notices the change in hue. “HANG ON A [little] LONGER, [CMYK]. ALMOST [their].”

I hum, fighting to remain conscious as my energy goes into trying to maintain whatever stuttering seconds we have left. Right as Spamton happens upon a manhole, I feel my grasp slip. The noises of the city return in full force as the sound of an alarm clock rings out. In an instant, right as Spamton lifts the manhole cover, a thunderous cry rings out from far behind us, the sound of metal warping and breaking growing closer. Without even a second thought, he slips inside, pulling the cover closed and dropping to the floor. Staggering for a moment, the salesman picks himself up and begins sprinting down the tunnel, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

‘You good, glowstick?’

I can’t muster the energy to respond, the glow of Light dimming as my heart hangs slack against its strings.

‘[CMYK], you there?’ Spamton’s tone rises, concern bleeding through. I try to respond, but I can feel my consciousness drifting, the corners of my vision darkening. He speaks again, but it’s too muffled to hear through the static in my ears. The last thing I see is Spamton unbuttoning his coat before everything goes dark.

~ ❤︎ ~

“So, what did you want me for, Fate?” I ask, turning to look at the person beside me. Their face is darkened, muddled by something I can’t explain. I know their face, I know them, but.. Their features escape me. 

“Quit acting like you don’t even wanna be here, ####. Check it out! It’s, like, some kind of weird program. Apparently it’s a survey!” They smile at me, and I can’t help smiling back.

“Really? You brought me all the way out here to take a survey?” I chuckle, elbowing them in the side. 

“Aaagh, don’t be so rough!” They feign hurt, clutching their middle in an overly dramatic fashion.

“I didn’t even get you that hard! Stop being a baby. What’s this program thing about, anyways?” I ask, scooting over to view the small screen in front of me, displaying something called ‘SURVEY_PROGRAM’. Our shoulders touch, the glow of our Souls brushing one another basking the area in a comforting, white light. They settle against me, glancing up to meet my eyes.

“Dunno. I figured I’d get you first and see what happens.”

“Dude, what if it’s dangerous?”

“Pfft, live a little! It’s not gonna kill us. Watch.” They place a hand over the screen, selecting the program before I have the chance to stop them. After a flash of bright light, all I can see is darkness.

~ ❤︎ ~

My awareness returns slowly. First, the sensation of being held… Then, a tingling warmth moving through my arms, limbs reawakening as my perception shifts. Vision returns with each blink, the pulsing light of the soul in front of me creating a beacon in the dark. Then words, muffled and unsure, as if spoken through water.

‘...Hmm..?’ I try to acknowledge him the best I can, the static at the edges of my vision slowly ebbing away as he calms down. ‘Mm.. M’Here.’ I give in groggy assurance, feeling much different than the last time I awoke in the hands of a salesman.

‘Hey, hey, talk to me, you [DEAD AND BURIED] or something?!’ Spamton jostles the heart in his hands around, causing our shoddy connection to stutter like a poorly plugged in TV.

‘Woah, woah- Calm down! I’m here, I’m here!’ The world spins for a moment even after he lets up. I feel Spamton’s tense limbs relax with a sigh of relief, his hands holding my Soul up to eye-level.

‘The [heck] was that about?!’ He scolds, eyes narrowing.

‘I don’t know! I think… Respite just used up a lot of energy outside of battle? I just passed out, it’s fine.’

Spamton scoffs, rolling his eyes. I feel some kind of emotion bubbling up within him, but it’s quickly snuffed out before I can work out what it is. ‘If that’s what you wanna think.’ Moving the Soul back to its place on his chest, the wires snap into place, pulling it securely to prevent any movement of my own accord. We should really do something about those…

‘Hey, Spamton?’ I quietly ask as he lets his sweater fall back down, buttoning up his jacket. ‘What’s the deal with the strings?’

He freezes, joints locking up as static grips the borders of my vision. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Spamton–’

“I S@Id> IT’  S  [nothing].” Spamton’s head jerks violently, hands balling into fists as his whole body seizes. I can feel a mental wall go up in an instant, blocking any attempts to look deeper if I tried. 

‘Right- I.. Sorry.’

My apology falls on deaf ears, Spamton’s jaw locking as his teeth grind together. He doesn’t say anything else as he lets a sigh out through his nose, slowly unfurling his hands from his jacket and letting them fall to his sides. Wordlessly, he begins moving forward, trekking through what appears to be a sewer tunnel. I consider asking where we are, but decide against it. I don’t even know if my thoughts would reach him at this point. 

…It’s probably good to have some time to myself anyways. I feel myself pull back a little, closing whatever approximation I have for eyes and sitting in the darkness of my mind. I know very little about Spamton - about this world. I can’t have been here any longer than a few hours at best, and all I’ve done so far is get attacked, once on Spamton’s account and the other… I feel an involuntary shiver down my spine thinking about the figure Spamton called ‘The Knight’. Whatever that creature is, I truly hope I never have to encounter it again. Even with Spamton’s large health pool, there was no way we’d win that fight. At least with the bird guys, there was an option to leave, but…

I sigh, letting my mind float further away from reality. If I’m going to work with Spamton, I need to figure out some kind of way to actually talk to him. I mean, all the guy’s been doing is railroading me from one disaster to the next. He won’t even tell me what he wants out of our partnership. That’s like, step one! But, then again… I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been treating Spamton like some kind of puzzle I need to solve, some… Means to an end. But when I look at it, the guy is literally at rock bottom. Of course he doesn’t trust me with his motives, he doesn’t even KNOW me.

Ugh. Fate would be much better at this than I am.

…

Wait a minute!

‘...Spamton? You there?’

‘...’

A small probe informs me that he’s at least listening. That’s… Slightly better than what I was expecting.

‘When you, uh..’ Jeez, how can I word this without flat-out saying he stole me… ‘Borrowed… Me. From that other guy, were there any other Souls around?’

Spamton pauses, glancing down at where my Soul rests against his chest.

‘No, just you.’ Damn.

‘Okay. Shoot. There was another Soul with me, their name is Fate. We were creating Vessels together in this… Program, thing. They’re my friend. Is- Is there anyone else who would’ve gotten a Soul too?’

The salesman stays quiet for a moment, then sighs, looking down at the pixelated water flowing past. Poking at the weakening wall between us, I catch the word ‘cage’.

‘There’s… A chance. But they won’t be here until tomorrow.’

‘Mm. Okay, I can wait.’ I desperately want to pry more about how and why he knows that, but at this point I know it’ll just lead to a dead end. But… That’s okay. I need to take it slow. Be Patient. 

‘I’m sorry.’

‘...For what?’ I open my eyes as he resumes walking, glancing at the walls.

‘For pushing you. Asking about the strings and your voice. We barely know each other.’

He sighs, letting his shoulders drop. ‘It’s fine-’

‘No, Spamton, it isn’t!’ I push, my little Soul thumping against his chest. ‘I made you uncomfortable and upset, that’s not cool. We just met today and all I’ve done so far is ask stupid questions. I wanna work with you, but I haven’t even met you halfway yet, so…’ I sigh. ‘I’m sorry. Can we… Try and start over?’

‘...’ Spamton is quiet for a long time, but I don’t push him this time. He continues to walk in silence, mulling my words over with the occasional clack of his jaw. 

Eventually, though, he takes a breath. ‘Okay. Nice to meet you, I’m Spamton.’

I feel a grin take over Spamton’s face as relief and joy wash over me. ‘Nice to meet you, Spamton! I..! Don’t have a name, but you calling me Glowstick has been kinda fun, so let’s go with that.’

He chuckles at that, a genuine noise interspersed by the occasional bit-crushing. ‘Sure, Glowstick.’