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“Don’t go into the basement.”
That was what the butler running the café always said. A warning, yet also a demand. Tenna refused to pry further, despite the temptation; he was already pushing his luck well outside his comfort zone by being there.
He should’ve been back in the Dreemurr’s household, warming the living room with his broadcasts. Honestly should’ve been anywhere but the local library, but it was either that or sit on the curb during trash day. At least Toriel was kind enough to drop him off before heading to work. Maybe the media lab could use a CRT TV to play VHS tapes or... something. Hell if he knew. Mostly collected dust in a corner.
Cyber World wasn’t much better. An analog guy such as himself struggled to thrive in a digital landscape, but Tenna knew a thing or two about entertainment. That got his foot in the mansion door. Just, you know, needed to keep his head down. Follow orders. Make the Queen happy whenever she summoned him. Simple enough.
Still. Tenna dwelled on that remark more often than not. The basement, huh? What was so dangerous down there that made it off limits?
Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was something important. The best prizes were hidden out of sight, after all.
Curiosity got the best of him. Always did. And Tenna circumvented security—oh please, he hadn’t spent years bypassing parental locks after midnight for nothing—and ventured into the basement. Deeper and deeper. Just the glitched shadows and the subtle glow from his screen mimicking a flashlight.
It was at the very end of the maze where he found it.
Light glinted off something. Or was it someone? Spooked the hell out of him for a minute. Once he recomposed himself, Tenna approached the lifeless body.
He didn’t know why it was there. Also didn’t know who precisely made it, but something about the hint of warmth still lingering in it, like a nighttime fire smoldering at twilight, reminded Tenna of the Lightners who once adored him.
It felt like home.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” he whispered during his inspection. Gloved fingertips brushed the metal exterior, outlining every angle and curve. “Someone not want ya anymore? Someone called you BROKEN?” Tenna breathed out a laugh and dared to curl his fingers, cupping the hollowed-out face. “Guess that makes two of us, huh?”
Nobody answered him. Figures. But it was nice to have somebody to talk to—somebody who would listen.
So every night, Tenna descended into the basement. The abstract sculpture of a body was always there, like it awaited him. With each visit, Tenna’s lips loosened a bit more, sharing bottled sentiments he kept locked up since he was “donated”. Maybe it was because he was lonely. Or this was a symptom indicative of turning to stone.
Whatever the case may be, Tenna couldn’t deny one thing, though: this abandoned art project was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Maybe that was why he kept running his mouth, like he was trying to impress a celebrity guest star. Also might’ve explained why his quick trips below evolved into something prolonged. Couldn’t outstay his welcome, sure, but just a little longer, yeah? Five more minutes. He’d make it worth the while. Not a single second wasted, either. Because... wow! This entity was something else! Incredible. Spectacular. Marvelous, even.
And sublime.
And divine.
And perfect.
Just... flawless.
Tenna was but a mere mortal paying his respects night after night. Gave him something to look forward to. Definitely comforted him amidst the isolation in this strange world. Perhaps his efforts would pay off. Maybe there was a way for them to merge, to make one another whole... ah, but who was he kidding? This was a Lightner’s creation. Of course someone as elusive as that wouldn’t acknowledge him, let alone meld with him.
But then there was that one visit—his last one.
Tenna lost track of time. Kept yapping well past dawn: about his old life in TV World, back when he had it good. He recounted all the laughs and tears like it was yesterday. Wouldn’t it be swell to have that again? The smiles? The cheers? The sense of belonging somewhere?
“Then again.” Tenna sat beside the body the whole night, but only took the risk to lean into it now. “If Toriel kept me around and I stayed there... I never woulda met YOU, huh?”
That was when it happened. Pixels sputtered across the figure. Distorted sounds broke through. And the long limbs moved, as if to embrace Tenna.
A few seconds, then it was over. Maybe he imagined it? No, that hint of residual warmth sparked something right then, igniting the entire body until it blazed. Perhaps it fell cold again, but Tenna clung to that heat, hoping to experience it again.
Hoping it was intended for him. Just him. Only him.
By the time Tenna resurfaced, it was mid-morning. Of course he was caught. Of course he was immediately exiled. Of course nobody gave a shit about a CRT television wandering the streets—babbling, begging, bawling his dated speakers out.
Of course he hit rock bottom the moment he brushed with something so bright, it blinded him.
Tenna didn’t keep track of the days—weeks, months, whatever—spent in the back alley. At least no one bothered him while living out of a dump. Nothing he could do but sit and wait. For what? Good question. For someone to use him in the media lab. Maybe even take him to a forever home. More likely, however, for his time to run out and render him to stone.
The only thing Tenna held onto during that harrowing lull was the faint memory of the basement and the gorgeous body that sputtered to life for a second.
Was that what Lightners meant when they talked about a sign from above? Something heaven-sent? From a God, even? And if God was merciful, when would He return for Tenna and save him?
He didn’t know. Probably never would at the rate he was rotting away.
But he did know word got around fast on the digital highways. Tenna caught echoes beyond the back alley. Folks talked about somebody overthrowing Queen and reigning from her mansion. Also found out it was that piece of shit who had screwed him over once upon a time. New posters lined the buildings with lies and greed. Fresh paint vandalized them within twenty-four hours, denouncing this rat-like tyrant.
It started as warnings, then threats, and eventually promises to ignite a revolution. Tenna flew under the radar, tuning in only when he picked up the random frequencies. Fighting for a good cause didn’t interest him. Let both sides fight to the death, for all he cared. He just wanted—needed—a way back into the mansion.
Good thing the rebel forces caused enough of a ruckus to serve as a distraction. No one noticed him slipping in. Or rushing for the basement.
Nothing had changed there, either. Still the same layout, the same quiet corridors. And He sat there, as if waiting for Tenna’s return.
“Ah! You’re here! You’re [ I M G ]” Tenna coughed up static while realigning his antennas for a clearer signal. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you again. I thought I’d [ I M G ] before we had ourselves a [ I M G ]”
Another coughing fit passed. His screen warped with snow. Damn it, this wasn’t the impression he wanted to be making for their reunion. Tenna’s illustrious jacket lost its sheen. Lost one of his gloves and broke an antenna at some point, too. No more crisp white dress shirt, no more matching shoes. Threadbare tatters, really. Barely holding it together. How fucking appropriate.
“But... you recognize me, yeah?” Tenna gingerly approached. Wait, when had He grown? Or was his own shrinking body to blame? “Y-you remember how I used to [ I M G ] every night? Always sneaking down to keep ya company?” He knelt before his savior, desperate for His warmth. “You... made me feel less [ I M G ] that’s for certa—” Fuck, he hated coughing. “I-I’m sorry if I kept you waiting for so long. But I’m back! H-ha ha! Not gonna go anywhere! Promise! [ I M G ]”
No response. Only the muted cries of violence several floors up thrummed in the foundations.
Tenna sighed, kneeling before Him. “I won’t do [ I M G ] unless you gimme the signal. Just gonna....” He crawled closer. “Stay right here.” And curled into his lap. “Stay with you.”
Still nothing, but at least the echoes died out. Nothing but a high-pitched whine from Tenna filled the cold air.
“Not going anywhere,” he murmured, “unless it’s with [ I M G ]”
He didn’t need a contract to seal this deal. Kissing the nearby palm before using it as a pillow sufficed. And He was still warm. Just a bit. Just enough.
That was all that mattered.