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His chest raised slowly, with a painful, deep breath, cold air he couldn't feel running through his body. Back on the floor, darkness in his eyes, unable to process any of his surroundings. His mouth hung agape, eyes opened wide.
Something pierced through his middle, numbness too strong to allow him to flinch.
Mind clouded with nothing but a single question,
“Why did I do that?”
It clawed deeper and deeper down inside his body, each whisk and move of it he felt tenfold with nothing. The sound of ringing, whispers he couldn't decipher, a cacophony of laughter and voices he couldn't understand. But it was all with one root.
An atom of senses returned to him briefly, he looked at his hand - having been clutching his stomach so tightly, it was covered in dark liquid so potent he couldn't make out where his arm ended and where the darkness began. He squeezed his fingers, it dripped on him.
A shaky sigh, there was something wet on his face.
It spoke,
“Do not be sad,” with a smile, “There is just so much we will do together. That’s what you desired.”
With a gasp, and a twitch, he grabbed onto his throat, digging his claws deep into the plastic skin. Arching his back, it grew.
It spattered over his cheeks, substance running down his edges to the floor. He was sure that he was screaming - but he couldn't hear a thing beyond the wicked ringing.
He threw himself on his side, choking and coughing with little success. It squirmed and wiggled inside, with every molecule of his inners he felt everything and nothing. It was cold. He couldn't see anything.
“It's not that bad, silly.” It chuckled. “Not at all. You'll be okay.”
He felt the tiles beneath his fingers, a smooth surface sudden reminder of where he was. A faint glow of pink and gold reflected in it.
What has he done?
Slowly, he recollects.
On the verge of a breakthrough, yes, he found out the truth. He remembers it, now, as he put the final note on the desk - Mike could do anything, anything and beyond, to lengths he could never dream of. It wasn't just a simple case of eternal, faithful servitude to one and only - it was the boundless ocean of possibilities.
Mike could do anything, Mike could be anything.
Why couldn't he?
A long game of cat and mouse. He curses with a cough, and for the first time he hears himself groaning sharply, loudly, and wet. He managed to pull himself to his knees, bowing on his elbows with no tiles in sight anymore - dark substance staining him from palm to elbow.
When he realized it, it surely should've been the end of it all. None of them could ever be what Tenna wanted. It was simply impossible. Unthinkable.
How was he to live with himself? Could've been fine, probably. He never wanted any of this, he never wanted this job, this responsibility, he never wanted to involve anyone.
But if not him, then who else?
A gasp.
If he squeezed the sides of his head any further, it was surely to shatter into pieces. It churned, he heard it moving.
“Worry not your silly little head,” It purred, “I'll make it worth your while. Just you wait.”
It shouldn't have been possible for him to get as far as he did, he should never have been allowed to get away with it. No odds would ever be this merciful. No amount of luck would lead him here. It was just a fact.
Claws dug into his arms, he felt his suit ripping underneath. There was nothing to see, he couldn't hear the ringing.
He had only one way out of this. He had to- He could never let Tenna find out.
That was a gift.
How he got up or when, he couldn't tell. The reflection in the mirror grinned at him from edge to edge. Eyes not of his own stared back. He could feel his body no longer.
“Rejoice!” He saw his mouth move, two voices spoke as one, “Doesn't it just feel… wonderful?”
He watched his hand turn his head side to side, strange gentleness and slowness in the movement - unnerving. He stroked his cheek, caressed it; he didn't feel anything.
“I don't see why you'd go to such lengths…” He leaned closer to the mirror, almost pressing his cheek into it - a pink eye stared right back at him, into him, “And for someone who's surely to meet his end soon. But I must say,”
if it was even possible to smile wider, he did,
“I highly enjoy your fervor, my friend.”
***
“... Heard da news, recently?”
A shadowguy shook his head, a mild frown barely visible under the hat indicating he had no interest in talking about Tenna. They sighed apologetically.
“Word’a mouth, he's movin’ to a bigger studio soon.”
Their voice was low, quiet. Finding this out over the grapevine of zappers hit them like lightning. A part of them felt like they shouldn't have heard it- and moreover, shouldn't have shared.
But their buddy suddenly rising to his feet from his half-dozing mid-day nap was enough to show their anxiety wasn't for nothing.
A couple of months ago, the pippins they used to work with stopped letting them in the Mike room. Of course, it wasn't as sudden as it felt. They'd had a bad premonition long before - when Pippins stopped asking them to do “Mike chores”.
First, he just shortened the list on their schedules. In high spirits, he'd say he's got this - some sort of “technique” he'd figured out to keep his energy high at all times. Good, they thought then - but didn't pay it much mind. They were only happy to see him happy.
Shadowguy didn't like it, though. Something rubbed him the wrong way. They still remember then, when he said that Pippins was locked in the Mike room for hours the day prior.
Then he started appearing with Tenna on the shows much more. Mike was a behind the scenes role more often than not, with Small Mike being their face behind those scenes.
It was strange, to see him act alongside Tenna.
But nothing worrisome - Tenna was always looking for ways to spice up the programs, to go for something interesting, engaging - and seems like… Mike was it.
Pippins was good at it. He’s always been, his dedication to the cause barely disguised as a burden. The dedication to a role they could only watch in awe as he performed. But to be something more? A co-host? They haven't had it since…
It was around time Shadowguy stopped appearing on his duties at all. “Too weird” he'd sign, “We're just props for him.”
Through aches in their circuits, they had had to agree. They were already doing… minimum, really. They never spoke to Tenna anymore as Mikes. They never had to, truthfully, do anything.
It just… sort of happened.
“I don't see what the problem is,” Pippins would shrug, “I'm giving ya more free time. Be grateful! You didn't wanna be Mike to begin with.”
“Yes, but…” They’d struggle to find words, as usual - cornered and under pressure, words scrambling; they’d put their hand on his shoulder, and with what their featureless face allowed, they’d show concern, “We’s worrying, pal. Tenna’s ain’t forcin’ ya into nothin’, is he?”
Then he’d laugh. He’d laugh with his full chest, his stomach; not a mean little snicker, not an underhanded snort, not a playful giggle. He’d cackle.
“Ya worry too much, pal,” a soft smile, “Just take it as, uh-” snapping his finger, “My repaying you for help. We cool?”
And all they had to do, was just to nod in defeat.
And then, he'd disappear in the Mike room.
But it just wasn't right.
Yet, they couldn't quite argue. Pippins had it all together. He wasn't so exhausted all the time. He hadn't touched his corkboard in weeks.
Who were they to accuse him?
…
“Reckon Pippins goes with him?”
Shadowguy looked befuddled. Never that concerned with the pippins or Tenna, he just enjoyed the gig. It let him off the hook for what he’d do among his like, it would keep him off other Zappers’ radar. And other stuff they didn’t really understand.
He would lie if he had to say the situation didn’t put him in a certain mood. With Pippins, or Tenna.
“‘Course,” Shadowguy signed, “They both got what they wanted, right?”
“...I s’pose.”
The least they can do is wish the pippins safe travel, once the news breaks out.
***
The farewell party went just about how you’d expect it to go with a clump of underpaid, exhausted and absolutely ecstatic employees, wasting off the remains of their Boss’ points bank. Tenna didn’t mind, thank Heavens, and for once in his miserable life let everyone loose and enjoy the evening.
He just stayed to the side, though, with his drink. No longer wearing his glasses, barely anyone would recognize him as him, and not just one of the many Shadowguys. Oh well. made little difference to him. He was busy singling out that green nuisance, or at least his costume. The less he was distracted, the better.
Zapper kept to their group and their duties, keeping their guard at the door nearby. They’d shoot him a glance every now and then - making sure he was still following along with the plan.
He would, of course. Why would he disappoint his best friend?
He had some principles. Unlike someone.
Someone would say having a good gut feeling is a gift. But his whole life, all it ever did, was to lead him to one disappointment after another - and this time, with no awkward mic costume, with no sight of green nearby, he couldn’t say he liked knowing something bad is afoot.
It was wrong. All Tenna could say, “Thank Mike for everything!”, for the party, for the new ambition, for every little thing he and Zapper too worked their asses off to achieve. He wanted to spit in disdain. That pippins.
To hell with Mike. He had to tell Zapper something’s shady going on.
Where was the pippins, missing all the hard earned praise he was so desperate for?!
“Y’think he’s…?” Zapper trailed off as they walked the corridor to the accursed room.
All he could do is shrug, and ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
Of a non-zero chance it was, in the end of the day, his- costume’s fault.
Always unnerving when it was completely quiet in the studio, corridors empty, sounds only coming distantly from where the party wasn’t planning to end; vending machines hummed, lights buzzed mildly. Even with all this ambiance, he couldn’t help feeling that proximity to the room ate all of that alive.
He wasn’t paranoid. Not quite like greenie was. He preferred to think of it as being careful.
If Zapper said anything, he didn’t hear it.
His glasses - after Pippins abandoned them both, he couldn’t help looking at them with disgust. He couldn’t look at his costume without feeling like he made a fool of himself. Things he believed, this idea of Mike - maybe he shouldn’t have involved himself in the first place. How different would’ve it played out?
Oh, he will never know,
He will never know.
A few steps before they reached the room, his hairs stood on end in a way he’s never felt before - a feeling of inexplicable dread. Showing, “I have a bad feeling.”
Zappers looked at him slowly.
“...Hold my hand?”
So he did, grasping it tightly. It didn’t make him feel better.
To their surprise, the door wasn’t locked. It opened with a characteristic little creak, letting in some light to illuminate everpresent darkness.
“Pal?” Zapper voiced.
But they couldn’t see through the dark.
“We’s here to wish ya best lucks n’ whatnot,” they went on, “Join us for drinks? One last time?”
“Will do!” The voice came out from the dark, “Just gettin’ my good clothes, some privacy, will ya?!”
It was so, so cold.
But Zapper sighed in relief.
“‘Course, lil buddy.”
They closed the door, to the echoed, cheerful “Thanks!”.
He stood, motionless. Weakness in his knees he felt only when Zapper pulled him gently to the side to walk. The sounds of commotion and struggle behind the walls pierced his ears.
“Guess he’s arright?”
There was no great revelation.
They’ve lost their friend before they even met him.