Chapter Text
The last few months had been absolute hell for Spamton, but he thought he adjusted fairly well given the circumstances. Going from a big shot to rock bottom and being abandoned by everyone you know would probably kill the average Joe, but not Spamton G. Spamton! He could overcome any set back as long as he kept working. Plus, he had a simple, clear goal. Get into Queen’s basement and take the NEO body. He wasn’t sure what the steps were (or if he’d be able to survive for long enough), but that was fine! He’d figure it out! He has to.
Visions of freedom and revenge danced in Spamton’s head as he dug through a dumpster. He occasionally put some items into a bag he was carrying until he pulled out a moldy CD bagel. Some advantages of his new (temporary) body are the lack of taste buds and a hardened stomach. The only thing that could stop Spamton now was his old instinct which still protested at the sight. Luckily, his jaw could unhinge and stretch, so he can just swallow it all in one go and not mess with the awful texture.
Spamton did just that before hearing approaching footsteps. He peeked out to check if he had a potential customer. It was a werewire. Judging by its swaying walk, it wasn’t one of the more sentient ones. That meant it was time for Spamton to run. He grabbed some random scrap from the trash and threw it as far as he could down the alley. The werewire immediately scrambled towards the sound, and Spamton took the opportunity to book it in the opposite direction. He was lucky this time; the werewire didn’t notice the fleeing puppet.
Once Spamton stopped running, he took a moment to orient himself. He was actually pretty close to his shop. He could drop some things off before going back out; the night was still young after all.
The shop was more of a burrow inside of a hill of trash rather than an actual building, but Spamton had big plans for it! He’s been working on expanding the interior whenever he could, and there was a decent amount of space now. The phone was securely placed inside, and he had a nice nest made from an old mattress and the car seats of the poor cungaderos left around the place.
The best part of this location was the window open to some painting software. The borders were broken, so he couldn’t move or resize it, but it worked completely fine otherwise! Sometimes he used it like a whiteboard to map things out and plan trips to the mansion, but it was also a great canvas to paint on.
Right now, it was a vibrant red with yellow stars. He made it in a time of sentimental weakness and just… Couldn’t be bothered to erase it right now. Red and yellow were supposed to be Spamton’s colors, anyway! No one else’s. And stars are a common shape.
He still avoided looking at it when he stepped inside. There were a couple of fragile products in his bag, so he took his time to carefully place them into different boxes. Spamton had started to put real effort into his shop around two weeks ago. He realized that breaking into the mansion’s basement wouldn’t be easy, and he needed to properly prepare. Some items were put aside for personal use while everything else was up for sale.
The puppet had just finished packing away the items when he felt strings yank at him. His first instinct was that his benefactor was back to control him. However, the strings didn’t move his body. He was instead peeled from the puppet and pulled somewhere far away.
Tenna was absolutely terrified. It was currently the night Spamton and Tenna had met. He hadn't been exactly staring at the clock when Spamton had come up to him at that party, so he didn't know exactly when they would swap-- IF they swapped. The uncertainty meant Tenna was stuck pacing the floor of his bedroom for the whole night.
He had brought out their daughter earlier to explain the situation to her. He was going to put her back, but she seemed like she wanted to stay in Tenna’s arms… Did she want to reunite with her other dad? She became a lot less active when Spamton left. The TV didn’t know why she preferred him, Spamton didn’t even think their Pipis was alive! Am I not enough? What am I doing wrong? Tenna absentmindedly rubbed a soothing circle on her shell as his thoughts kept bouncing to one topic after the other.
Should he hide all of his valuables? No, Spamton couldn't steal anything because there weren't any other Dark Worlds connected right now. But what if Spamton hid all of Tenna's things? What if Spamton did more than that? The salesman could ruin the whole studio in just a few hours, or he could impersonate Tenna and ruin his reputation.
Maybe it was foolish to even entertain the thought that Spamton was Tenna’s soulmate. Nobody, not even someone as resistant to fate as Spamton was, would just abandon their soulmate! And nobody would force their soulmate into a terrible fate for their own gain, his mind unhelpfully supplied.
Tenna tried to derail this dangerous line of thought, but it hounded him. He could only hope that no swap happened. Then he'd know that they aren't soulmates, and he can move on... Or it might mean Spamton was dead.
The CRT groaned in frustration. He flopped onto a couch and curled up around the Pipis. Did he want this swap to happen or not?!?
... What he really wanted was for Spamton to be here. He wanted to yell at him. He wanted Spamton to shout back. He wanted them to keep arguing until one of them finally broke and admitted that they still loved the other. Apologies would be made and accepted. Tenna would hug his mailman and never let go. He should’ve never let Spamton go.
But the truth was that he had let Spamton run. Instead of the excited anticipation he should’ve been sharing with his mailman, Tenna was paralyzed with dread. He felt like whatever happened tonight would lead to a disaster he’d never recover from. The seconds ticked closer to this inevitable doom, but Tenna had no way of knowing when it would hit. Had it already passed?
Before Tenna could spiral further, a force pressed against his soul. The TV didn’t even have the chance to flinch as he was hoisted from his body and carried somewhere far away.