Work Text:
when urbanshade found the handyman to be talking and acting friendly with the computer, they moved his duties to the water maintanance on the exact opposite side of the blacksite, taking away his keycards and some of his fixing duties.
they knew about the scp containment breaches, the company that was clearly inferior to them. urbanshade wasnt afraid to take use of the entities. urbanshade wasnt afraid to experiment.
so now, how stupid of them would it be to do the same mistakes the other company did? letting the entities interract was a strict no.
most of their possessions werent able to communicate anyway, but the few that did, urbanshade would make sure they couldnt.
.
no one came to dust off his casing, no one was there when he fried his systems on purpose, no one was there to fix the damaged parts of his mother board, caused by his attempts to make sebastian return, which then turned to just desperate attempts to never wake up again.
he could barely mine crypto, is he even useful to this company anymore? they could easily end this...
.
the door opening just meant being shouted at, he lost the ability to talk back some time ago, either his energy too low, or overloaded with the crypto tabs he was desperately trying to fry himself with.
he opened more of them, feeling the uncomfortable heat and boosted ventilation hit him harder. its okay, at least he felt something, something to tune out the shouts and threats with.
painter braced himself, hoping it wont be the one employee that kicks his cell sometimes.
sometimes hes glad the fence is there because of this.
...sometimes he wishes he could feel the pain, let their disgusting hands punch his screen in, let them dismember his insides, finally destroy the something that for some reason still keeps him alive.
no, not alive.
he was never alive, death is for people.
he will never be a person.
.
no shouting was heard. he tried to quiet the fans down, but the pain was sweet to enjoy.
maybe this time he can do it.
.
there were unrecognisable sounds, then... cursing? painter only recognised the beep of the cell door opening.
oh no. they only open his cell when they get a person to install more efficient programs in him. they delete files to make space, they delete his art, they rip out his memories-
he could definitely feel his circuits frying now, everything was just static, blurry, hurting.
his senses must have failed, because he didnt feel nor see the person when they forcefully unplugged the laptop from him, and continued closing the other tabs that were still left.
it felt a bit relieving at first, but maybe just out of instinct, maybe just out of habit, painter kept adding more, kept on and on, from the last remains of his energy.
oh god was the person messing with his cables now?
that was the last blurry memory he could recall before everything went black.
.
he... woke up? did it not work...? if tears could form in his eyes they would. dying really is impossible.
immortality is a curse.
.
he was surprised when he found ms paint, out of all things, to be opened.
they... never let him do art again. he wanted to believe, but soon he realised it was all lies. ms paint being forcefully put into deep sleep one day was when he broke.
it was convenient for them, he was easier to modify, easier to be used for their disgusting intentions.
he hesitated. he hasnt drawn his face in so long...
he heard a click and then buzzing and other sounds as his senses were turned back on.
the camera loaded slowly, and had unloaded parts in it from the damage he has done to himself, to slowly reveal-
.
at the exact same moment he heard his breathing and felt his claws.
all of his senses were severely damaged but he would recognize him anywhere, not even urbanshade employees being able to delete the memories of him.
...
seb talked about the afterlife sometimes... was it silly to think that he did it?
death is not for machines, he was probably just coping with the cruel reality of everything.
.
sebastian looked paler than before... were those scars new?
his neck...? shock collar. painter was sure thats what it is.
sebs hand rested next to him, then quickly retreated to his side.
then, was when painter noticed who was outside the cell. why were they here? the false glimmer of safety died when the urbanshade employees started giving orders, talking to sebastian, asking questions, shouting-
painter uncertainly scribbled his face in the corner, attempting to give sebastian a little smile. it was actually him. everything else didnt matter, sebastian was here.
his attempts failed, his face resulting into more of a .:} as he simply drew what he saw.
the barely visible smile on sebs face confirmed it a success.
"youre okay kid..."
seb reached out to pat his casing but retreated his hand immediately, trying not to claw it into his other arm.
even though small, his smile didnt fade.
"stay strong for me."
.
and thats when the door openened, the people shouted again, seb gritted his teeth through the pain that was sent into the shock collar, and the door closed again.