Chapter Text
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Tension Rising.
Tenna can’t help but restlessly pace his office like a desperate, caged animal.
The excessive strain pushes his cooling systems to exhaustion, reducing his breathing to sharp stuttered bursts. And all he can do is retrace his steps, over and over.
As he’s been doing for the last hour now.
Once again, he follows the same path in front of his desk, a habit that’s slowly worn down the wooden floor over decades of tightly wound agitation. Usually this would help settle him, give him something repetitive to fixate on, force his scattered thoughts to quieten, just for a moment.
Although this time, it’s not working.
Nothing is working.
It’s become a struggle to control any of his inner workings, causing his size to shift at random, dizzying intervals. But that’s all Tenna needs right now - control. For things to just, stop. Nothing is responding the way it should, his screen remains trapped in blinding static, and a disgusting sickness races wild through his body; leaving his synthetic nervous system fried.
That’ll need fixing later.
At one point, his shifting led him to slamming his leg against the desk. Hard enough to cut his screen out for a concerning stretch of time.
Another thing to fix later.
Though he doesn’t care. That’s the least of his worries right now.
Three percent.
The number burns painfully into the forefront of Tenna’s mind as the damning evidence lies scattered on his desk. It forces its way through anything else that could matter right now.
Nothing else matters right now.
Dark World ratings are down three whole percent from last week, and Light World ratings? Ten percent. Ten. A double digit drop in only a week!
That’s huge! That’s catastrophic! That could very well mean the end of his world as he knows it! Just thinking about it sends a violent nausea coursing through his body.
…And that’s exactly how it started last time, isn’t it?
Tenna’s claws dig into his palms as he mutters under his breath, refusing to slow, needing an outlet for his onslaught of pent up energy.
“No, no, no… that’s not- this isn’t how this is supposed to go. I didn’t mean to-”
How did he let this happen?
One person. One. That’s all he needs to keep engaged from the Light World, to keep entertained, to keep wanting him as much as he wants them. And he can’t even manage that! Can’t hold their attention, can’t be enough, can’t-
“This is all my fault,” he mutters to himself, only stopping to lean against the desk when his leg throbs in protest. “I got lazy. I just- I just need to be better!”
Tenna drags a hand down the side of his head. Slowly, painfully scraping his claws against metal, as if he can somehow tear the thoughts straight out of his head.
Too old.
The thought comes from nowhere, but to him, it’s not wrong. It’s just the honest truth, right? He’s too old for this. He was never built to last. Never meant to be anything more than a temporary novelty. Something flashy for a brief moment before people get bored and move on to the next bigger, brighter thing in their lives.
He was never meant to stay.
“Maybe I’m not made for this,” he whispers to himself.
Still, he can’t help but laugh to himself, at the absurdity of his prior wishful thinking. “What did I expect? That I could just keep going forever?”
Abandoned. That’s how it always ends, right? That’s how it has to end eventually. People don’t keep things that stop being useful. They' throw them away. You’ll throw him away.
Like trash.
The phrase worms its way in, refusing to leave no matter how hard he tries to force the harrowing image out of his mind. “Why would anyone want me? What do I even offer anymore?’’
Nothing.
Nothing worthwhile.
And when the numbers drop too far, when he can’t keep up the act anymore. You’ll forget him. They all will.
“I’ll just…” Tenna’s voice trails off as his breath painfully catches. “…I’ll just rot, won’t I?”
Left to die alone. Gathering dust. Decaying somewhere out of sight. Shoved into the dark. Because that’s all he’s good for, isn’t it? Being used and discarded.
Always by the people he cares the most about.
“They’ll move on,” he mutters, as if being the first to admit it will somehow make it hurt less. It never does. ‘‘They’re not here. They should be here by now, right? They’re already moving on without me. I should just-’’
A large, floor length mirror quickly distracts Tenna from his self-determined future. An inevitable fate that’s currently holding his thoughts hostage. And all he can do is stare at his reflection until he barely recognises the image staring back. Scrutinising, analysising, tearing himself apart again and again until he finds the root of his problem. Until he finds the one thing that can keep this vicious cycle from repeating once more.
Tenna can’t help but notice the small things. Although to him they’re anything but small, they’re just further proof that he’s not trying hard enough, that he’s given up. Like the way his tie sits just a fraction off-center, a state he would have never reduced himself to in his prime. Or how his smile sits just a few pixels too wide, giving him an almost uncanny appearance that would surely scare away viewers.
As issue after issue arises, Tenna takes time to adjust, straighten, and repeat the painstaking process over and over.
Still, it’s not enough.
“…You look tired, Tenna,” he mutters, though the mirror doesn’t bother granting him the mercy of answering back. “No no, it’s um… worn! That’s it, isn’t it?” A long sigh escapes at the conclusion.
Maybe people can tell. Maybe that’s it! Maybe that’s why things feel… wrong.
Tenna leans closer, scanning his reflection for just one more detail to fix, one more problem to solve that’ll keep him going for a little while longer. A crack in his display. A flaw in his design.
Anything.
“Why would they still love me like this?” He mutters on the brink of defeat. Bursts of static start begin to race up his antennae as he continues to fixate on his distorted reflection. “Why would anyone?! I’m old news! I’m predictable! I’m-”
Tenna, I don’t wanna go home with you! I’m having fun! I live in this world now!
…You didn’t even want to come back, did you?
It was months ago, yet the memory of your visit to Queen’s mansion continues to resurface. All throughout, Tenna couldn’t help but notice the way you were so excited in a newer, better world with a more modern leader, a more competent leader than he could ever be. There’s no way he can live up to what she can offer. Not anymore.
The spiral tightens until near suffocating, and all he can feel are sparks crawling under his casing, burrowing their way into his core.
“I don’t have value anymore. I don’t bring anything new. I’m not good enough, I can’t-”
Tenna takes a sharp inhale, yet the air refuses to escape. All he can think of is how easy it would have been to lose you that night. For you to find another world to dedicate yourself to. And how it would have been his fault for letting it happen.
Unfortunately, the reflection remains silent.
And finally, the thread snaps.
Before Tenna can even process what he’s doing, the glass shatters with a sharp, ringing crack, finally blessing him with a moment of silence in the aftermath.
Then slowly, he’s able to exhale.
“Okay Tenna,” he says, attempting to reason with himself. “That was… dramatic! We don’t need that right now haha!”
He steps back, forcing his hand to still. “I just need to practice more. That’s all this is!” Encouraging himself through a nod. “If there’s a problem, I can fix it. I always fix it!”
Even the smallest details matter, right? It’s why he’s stayed on top. Why people used to adore him!
“Being picky isn’t bad!” he insists to the empty room. “It’s necessary. It’s important! I need this!”
Tenna stands up straighter, kicking the shards under the curtain and turning the frame to hide any evidence. Although the pulse in his hand remains, there’s no hiding that.
Another thing to fix later.
“I just need control! That’s all. I just need to control-”
Tenna’s rambling is quickly silenced by a sharp knock at the door, cutting clean through his train of thought.
“What now!?” he snaps before catching himself. “Sorry, sorry!” he adds, quickly recalibrating into his usual rehearsed approachability. “Just a bit busy! You can come in, door’s open!”
Mike can’t help but hesitate before slowly making his presence known, accompanied by two pippins as emotional reinforcement. Still, that doesn’t stop them from tucking out of sight, occasionally peeking over to check if Tenna’s fluctuating anger might suddenly spark again.
Outside the door, Jongler and Pluey both hide behind the wall, praying that Battat comes out relatively unscathed from Tenna’s explosive wrath.
With the unwelcome arrival, Tenna immediately begins the laborious task of gathering himself. Forcing his static to settle, projecting a wide smile and clasping his hands firmly behind his back. All while ignoring the shooting pain that follows suit.
“Mike! My favorite guy!” he chimes through a wave of distortion. “What can I do for you?”
Mike swallows, almost forgetting what he came for in the first place. “S-sorry, boss,” he starts. “One of the stage lights went out. I can’t figure out how to fix it in time.” He glances back at the dice, who silently nod in solidarity. “We’ll have to run the show without it, shouldn’t be an issue though!”
He rushes on before Tenna can respond, although he doesn’t miss the way his breath catches at the news. “And one of the Shuttah’s called in sick today. Fever, I think? So… we’ll be down one camera.”
And to Mike’s relief, Tenna doesn’t immediately blow up.
Yet his victory is short lived as a crackle of static crawls across his screen. A change that’s followed by the building hum of interference, a telltale sign of an approaching storm. Tenna’s smile doesn’t falter as he continues to beam down at the group, but Mike already knows from experience how it’s only another mask for his more volatile nature.
“Right,” Tenna finally says, laughing to himself. “Of course. Of course!”
Tenna turns away, pacing a few steps as his thoughts spiral faster than his body can keep up with. How is he supposed to function like this? How is he meant to perform when things keep falling apart? When the whole dark world expects him to shine no matter how much he’s falling apart? And nobody does anything about it?
Sure, he can shoulder the blame again. He always does, he’s always expected to, right? But how can he keep everything running when his support system refuses to keep up with even the simplest tasks? Does anyone here actually care? Or is he just expected to fix everything alone, because it’s easier to let him burn out than do anything to help?”
Tenna exhales, then stops.
“Okay,” he says, keeping his voice firm. “That’s fine. We’ll handle it.”
Tenna turns back to Mike, screen now devoid of any expression. “Go gather everyone. I want everyone here. Now.”
Mike can only nod as he ushers the pippins back out the door, scurrying off down the hallway once he’s free from Tenna’s relentless glare.
𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟✦𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, with the crowd already anticipating the worst. All until Tenna opens his mouth. He doesn’t bother easing into it, announcing himself with a sudden clap of his hands that forces his unwilling audience’s attention to focus on him.
“Okay, let’s not waste time,” he says, voice already edged with irritation. “Ratings are down. Across both worlds.”
A ripple of discomfort cascades through the room, collectively informing the crew exactly where this is heading. A few darkners subtly glance at one another in confusion, but Tenna doesn’t give them a chance to respond.
“Down,” he repeats louder. “And do you know what that tells me? It tells me none of you care. That none of you want to be here!” As Tenna speaks, his size shifts with his temper, growing just enough to remind them who holds the ceiling up.
“Do you think people tune in for mediocrity?” he snaps through bared fangs. “Do you think anyone wants to watch you stumble through half-hearted performances and recycled routines?” His focus cuts through the room, landing on each darkner in turn. “Because they don’t. And if they stop watching, you know exactly what happens next.”
Nobody responds.
“They forget,” Tenna continues. “And when they forget, you disappear. Again.”
Tenna stops pacing, just long enough to gather his next words. “Useless. All of you. Giving up already, like this world wasn’t handed back to you on a silver platter.”
His focus locks onto Mike.
“And you,” Tenna says, sharpening his tone. “I expected better from you of all people, Mike.”
Sweat beads underneath Battat’s costume, though the stretched grin of his mask remains plastered on as he stares up at Tenna. The Pippins shuffle close behind, attempting to disappear into his shadow.
“I’ve bent over backwards to get this world back,” Tenna goes on. “While you all drag your feet. While you complain. While you act like any of this could exist without me.”
Tenna gestures broadly around the room. “I built this world. I stopped it collapsing in on itself and I brought you all back.’’
Silence.
“You all signed contracts,” Tenna continues. “You agreed to this. Which means you listen to me, or I start making cuts. Pay cuts. Role cuts. Whatever gets you acting right again!”
A few shadow guys shift nervously in place. Though one brave darkner tries to speak up, emitting a soft string of musical notes. An attempt at protest, an explanation, it doesn’t matter. It’s quickly shut down either way.
“Don’t,” Tenna snaps back instantly. “Shut up.”
The notes die off, and the shadow shrinks back into silence.
“You know what?” Tenna adds. “Maybe I don’t need you at all. Maybe I should just do everything myself, since that’s what everyone seems to expect anyway. Maybe some of you would be better off as statues. At least then you wouldn’t be dragging everyone and everything else down with you.”
For once, Elnina and Lanino don’t interrupt. They stand side by side, lacing their fingers together behind their backs, bracing the impact together.
Tenna exhales sharply. “Get it together,” he says. “Or don’t bother showing up at all.”
Outside the door, Pluey’s ears flatten while his fur defensively puffs up, bristling down his spine. The usual cheerful jingle at his collar now sits silent as he takes a hesitant step back, tucking his tail in between his legs.
Immediately, Jongler lowers himself to Pluey’s level as he holds his hands out, offering any semblance of comfort through the tense situation. And for a second, it seems to work. Pluey’s nose twitches as he shuffles closer, inches away from bumping his head against the cowboy.
Unfortunately, another explosive wave erupts from inside, and that’s all it takes for Pluey to bolt. Jongler doesn’t hesitate to take off after him, clinging to his hat as he races down the corridor, leaving poor Battat to face Tenna alone.
Ramb’s focus is quickly dragged from his work as the onslaught of noise carries through the walls. He only glances up briefly, but soon realises it isn’t his problem. No one bothered to invite him anyway. With a tired sigh, he returns to his repairs, sanding down the wood on one of the bar stools, bearing fresh scratch marks - Pluey’s, by the look of them.
Back inside, Tenna finally concludes his brutal wake up call.
“I expect better in future. Now, get out. All of you!” he shouts, dismissively waving his staff away before collapsing back into his chair.
“…Great,” he mutters, exhaling slowly. “How am I supposed to fix this…”
𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟✦𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
You’re late.
By about two hours, if you had to guess?
It’s not your fault. You’ve been away for the past week, and have only just arrived home from visiting people out of town. Tenna knew that. You made sure he knew that. Before you left, you spent the whole day with him, reassuring him that you’ll see him as soon as you could, and by the time you left he seemed happy.
Though, you were so excited at the thought of seeing him again that you completely forgot to tell him you were coming. You only realised once you were already here. But it’s fine. By now, you know this place well enough to navigate it on your own, and besides, Tenna knew when to expect you back. He isn’t meant to be on for a while yet either, giving you enough time to catch up properly before the world demands him on stage.
Still, with all the chaos going on in your world, everything has started to feel too much. You’ve had work piling on top of work, with expectations becoming increasingly demanding from a boss that can’t take no for an answer. It’s left you feeling more than burnt out, and all you want is to come back to him, to give yourself a couple of days to recharge away from it all.
Right now, you don’t want excitement or drama. You just want comfort.
And as you make your way towards Tenna’s room, you realise that’s exactly what you won’t be getting.
You catch Pluey and Jongler bolting down the hallway, nearly colliding with you as they rush past in a wild frenzy. They barely give you chance to open your mouth before they’re gone, and that alone is telling enough.
Something’s wrong.
Before you even reach the door, you hear Tenna’s voice, cutting through the frame in muffled bursts. The room is supposed to be soundproof, so the fact that you can hear him at all is more than concerning.
For a moment, you consider going in despite your better judgment. At the very least to see what’s going on, to check if Tenna is okay. But the longer you listen, the clearer it becomes that interrupting would only add more fuel to his fire.
So for now, you stay where you are, straining to listen in.
And you wait.
𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟✦𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟