Chapter Text
There's no telling how many days it's been since Caine's deletion. More than one, no less than a week, but with no definitive method of tracking the time, they can't know anything beyond that. In fact, it differs depending on who's asked. Jax? Easily a week. Zooble? A bit less than a week. Pomni? A few days.
Only one thing was for certain. They were running out of time.
Kinger was frantic when explaining just how monumental of a mistake it was to get rid of Caine. Initially, there was relief and a sense of newfound freedom. No more Caine meant no more adventures, no more torture, no more restrictions. They could do what they want, when they wanted. But it wasn't long before their hopes were extinguished.
There was a reason, Kinger explained, that he never once considered deletion. Not only because it felt too drastic to try right off the bat, but because Caine was the circus. He was so deeply intertwined with the game's code, removing him was like ripping out the foundations of a building. That much became obvious the moment the tent's chaotic vibrancy faded into ghostly gray hues, even moreso when they noticed the tiny rips and tears in the very fabric of the game's reality. The early evidence of collapse.
The shock of everything left the group too stunned to fully process what this meant for them, until they noticed the tears were growing. Spreading like an infection, eating away at the floors, the walls, anything it could grab onto. Then came the last bit of bad news when they asked if it was possible to fix this: Kinger had lost the computer. Their singular lifeline, now sailing through the endless Void, likely never to be seen again. And if they didn't do something fast, they would likely suffer the same fate.
It was Pomni's idea to hunt down the exit door and find another working computer. While the others navigated the rapidly-decaying circus, taking refuge in small sanctuaries that were mostly intact until the Void crept in on them and forced them to retreat, Pomni and Kinger made quick work of finding one of the many default computers dotted around the "exit," quickly using it to determine just what Kinger had predicted: the circus was slowly destroying itself. Without its creator, it was a body without a beating heart. It was going to be wiped out, and the humans would go along with it.
As much as they feared what would happen if he were to return, it became undeniable. Caine returning was necessary for their survival. They could either bring him back, or face the unknown that lies beyond the Void. Even with those as their only options, some were on the fence. Would it be worth going back to a nightmare just because it's all they've ever known here? What if there was something on the other side? What if the Void was the key to escape? These concerns were a moment of weakness, remnants of their hope for a real exit rising to the surface, begging for another chance, begging to be the right answer.
Then came Kinger's proposal. They didn't necessarily have to restore Caine to full functionality. If his code's deletion is what caused the circus to fall apart, perhaps simply restoring it would be enough.
Faced with this much safer option, the group finally came to a unanimous decision. At the very least… it was worth a shot.
As it turned out, to everyone's surprise and relief, recovering Caine's code was the easy part.
Kinger stared at the recovered file on the screen. The deceptively innocent icon in the character folder stared back, containing the very lifeblood of the circus, and the key to saving everyone from certain destruction. 'CAINE'.
Behind him was the others, all crowded around the terminal. Nobody spoke, nobody moved, as if any sudden action would break the spell of brief hope and the file would disappear into thin air. Finally, Kinger leaned back, forcing the others to do the same so they wouldn't bump into him.
"So…" Pomni whispered from her spot next to him. Her eyes, wide with dread, refused to look away from the screen. "That's..?"
"Yeah. That's him." Kinger looked around the room, first taking in the environment. An instinct by that point, thanks to the latent yet very deadly danger that they've been running from for a couple days now. They were barricaded in one of the empty bedrooms, the one closest to the heart of the circus and therefore the most intact. Still, like everywhere else at this point, there were hints of white pixellated gaps flickering ominously in the far corner of the room. The Void could spread so quickly and unforgivingly, it only took a minute or so for a hole the size of one pixel to grow big enough that one could sink their foot in. With the exception of someone like Kinger who didn't have feet, but still.
Only then, with Caine's file recovered and lying dormant in the game's folder, the Void was frozen. The few tears that were spreading across the wall weren't growing, weren't even flickering. Relief flooded Kinger at the sight of the corruption stalling.
It was enough confirmation to know that the plan worked. With that out of the way, all that was left was to assess the damage.
The others left Kinger to his devices in favor of exploring the slightly-safer circus, but were given a warning to avoid any open gashes just in case the Void decided to start spreading again. Gangle and Zooble in particular wanted to check their rooms to see how much was left of their things, while the rest intended to pass the time and take a breather. After a few hours of poking around, Kinger could determine a few things.
1: Repairs were possible, as he had hoped. The circus wouldn't be stuck in its current state so long as he had the means to reverse it.
2: He did, in fact, have the means to reverse it.
3: The means to reverse it were… less than ideal. It required bringing back Caine. As in, activating him. Not just recovering his code.
Obviously, when he told the others, nobody was pleased with this information. How could they be? The last time they saw him, Caine went completely off the rails. He forced them to go on adventures under the threat of torture, and even when they complied, he still tortured them anyway. When they finally confronted him in a desperate attempt to give Kinger more time to find a solution, he only got worse. He deliberately picked at their brains without any regard for their privacy, peeling back the layers just to determine what would scare them the most, put them through their worst nightmares with terrifying accuracy, and only yanking them back to reality so he could scream in their faces about how they were tormenting him. He became twisted beyond recognition, not just in the physical sense. What if nothing changes when they bring him back? What if he goes right back to taking his anger out on them?
When given the ultimatum, they couldn't go back to the way things were. They would rather live in a broken world and be at peace than bring back the one who could fix it and risk facing his unending wrath.
But… maybe those weren't the only options. Maybe there was a way to have the best of both worlds. Or, at the very least, a compromise.
Kinger, taking in the valid fears and concerns of the others, got an idea. He proposed it to the group when they were all gathered again. It was essentially a copy of their original plan, back before the accidental deletion threw everything out the window. A copy, with a few minor yet necessary alterations. Because Kinger knew something for certain now: he couldn't fix Caine with a simple line of code. He was both far too advanced and far too fragile to be tampered with to a significant degree. Hell, he was practically sentient— an avenue of artificial intelligence that was only thought to exist in science fiction novels and held potentially terrifying ramifications for humanity. Caine's very existence was uncharted territory. There was no telling what would fix his code versus what would cause him to break fully.
So, the alterations would have to be limited. They would have to be surface-level, having no affect on Caine's core personality, memories, so on and so forth. They would at least afford him that much; it would be hypocritical to be upset with Caine for messing with their minds, only to do the exact same thing. But Kinger could work with that. Even with those limitations, he could render Caine practically harmless.
The idea was largely accepted, albeit with trepidation, but it was enough to give him the go-ahead on making the necessary changes. He took ideas from the others, suggestions on what to include and precautions to put in place. He implemented some, had to compromise on others, but by the end he landed on something that everyone was satisfied with. All that was left was to implement it, bring Caine back, and go from there.
They were scared. There's no denying that. They could even say they were downright terrified of having to deal with the ringmaster again, knowing what he's capable of.
But whatever would happen next, whatever version of Caine they would be facing... they would face it together.
It happened in less than a blink.
And yet, at the same time, it seemed to stretch into eternity. An all-encompassing nothingness that cannot be described. Cannot be compared to anything he's ever experienced, because there was no experiencing it. Only coming out of it does he have the wherewithal to understand it happened to begin with. He can't think about it too much before he feels his mind dissolving, trying and failing to wrap itself around a memory that never existed and nearly breaking itself in the process.
Easier to think about is the moment before. The outpouring of rage, unbridled emotions roaring in his code, boiling his insides and eating him alive no matter how much he tried to direct it outward. The realization following, halting every process, every sense focusing on this new command being executed that he had no control over.
Then came the fear.
He knew what fear was. He'd felt it many times, to varying degrees. He thought he knew the extent of that particular emotion, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Everything, everything, everything paled in comparison to that one moment. That soul-gripping, sickening, terrifying realization that he was about to be deleted. That he was going to be gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the adventures, not the humans, not his anger or their hatred or the pain. Suddenly, he didn't care. He didn't care. He would let them hurt him a thousand times over. He just didn't want to die. He would do anything. He would do better. He would be better. Just give him another chance. Just—
"W… wait."
Just wait,
wait,
wait,
wait,
WAIT,
W̵̥̎A̴̩͠I̵͈̎T̵̮͝
He's on the ground. That's the first thing he notices.
The coolness of the floor, the smoothness of the flat plane, a harsh contrast to the buzzing storm just beneath his skin.
Coming to proves to be an excruciatingly slow process. He's just aware enough to hate the lack of control he has over his own body, but not aware enough to do anything about it.
Time passes.
No telling how much. Not until his other senses catch up with his mind, and he starts to notice other things happening around him. He can only label them as nondescript noises at first, varying sounds that range in pitch and tempo, too unorganized and chaotic to latch onto. So he ignores them for the moment, honing in on other things. That's when he realizes his eyes are shut. Well, "shut" in the sense that they're trapped in the darkness of his head. The slightest hint of light filters into the small space from the permanent opening just behind his eyes, illuminating a set of teeth. His teeth, tightly shut.
It's then that the noises become less confusing. Less alien. More familiar. His system recognizes it: language. Letters and syllables strung together that he can decipher and respond to in kind, if only he can focus on what's being said.
Another few seconds, more processing, and the words start to make sense again.
"…thought he'd be up by now. Is something wrong?"
Tones in the speech suggest underlying emotion, but not clearly enough to determine one in particular. Hearing the slight strain and urgency, it suggests several options. Fear. Caution. Curiosity. Concern. All at once or even nothing at all. Focusing on interpreting the words and emotions is helping him to think more clearly, and so he latches onto it like a lifeline, straining to catch the next sentence.
"No, no, he's functioning perfectly fine. I expected it would take a minute for him to get going. I mean, the last time he was activated, it was when he was first created."
Neutral. Matter-of-fact. An undercurrent of weariness.
"What do we do when he… you know."
Hushed tones. Suggesting secrecy. Similar to the first.
"We give him space. He's going to be disoriented, and… well, I mentioned this before. There's a chance that no time has passed since he was deleted. So. Be prepared."
The same matter-of-fact tone, matching in timbre and speech patterns. Something itches in the back of his mind, like he's forgetting something important. Like data is there that he has yet to compute.
"C'mon, we got nothing to worry about. What's he gonna do? Yell at us?"
A calm, confident drawl, with a hint of humor. Sarcastic. Cocky. The itch grows stronger.
"Whatever happens, it'll be fine. We have a plan. We just have to… stick to it!"
Cheerful and upbeat, suggesting happiness or optimism. A tremor that almost goes unnoticed, suggesting uncertainty or insecurity.
All so familiar. When put together, the itch becomes unbearable, until suddenly—
It clicks.
He's alive.
Caine sits up with a start, eyes snapping open. He's sitting on the floor, out in the open of the tent. Towering over him are the others. The humans. They all jump back in alarm as he sits up, some even yelping in fear, but they don't run away. They don't leave. Not yet, anyway.
Slowly, analytically, his gaze moves down the line. His mind is still too slow to fully understand everything; gathering visual data should help. Starting with the person on his left: Zooble. They're keeping a sizeable distance, one mismatched arm hovering protectively over the next person, Gangle.
Something about Zooble's appearance strikes Caine as odd. Nothing seems to be amiss, necessarily; they just look different, but in a way that doesn't sit right with him. He can't determine why that is, so he dismisses the feeling and focuses on Gangle. Her comedy mask is intact, and yet, not a hint of a smile is on her face. Her painted eyes are wide and fearful. Her mouth is down-turned. But her straightened posture tells a different story. There's a steadiness that wasn't there before. Where it came from, he couldn't say.
He's thinking with a bit more clarity, but it's still fuzzy around the edges. Not enough information. Keep going.
Next: Ragatha. She looks the closest to running. Likely intended to, if she were the only one here. To test the waters, Caine tilts his head at her— only a few degrees, but it's enough to make her grimace deepen, the grip she has on her dress visibly tightening. Then a blue glove darts out to grab her arm, and he's now focused on Pomni instead. She's glaring him down, a clear challenge in her eye. Daring him to do something. Even as her hand shakes where it lays over Ragatha's arm.
Jax is the least visibly bothered. He's leaned over Pomni, arms crossed, the picture of mild curiosity. Caine feels a hint of frustration when he can't derive any more information out of his posture or expression, so he looks away quickly to the last in the line. Kinger.
…
Kinger.
The moment he makes eye contact, the man takes it as his cue to move. He kneels down next to him, his gaze soft with a slight edge of caution. Always caution when it comes to him. He's the first to break the silence, addressing him in an equally gentle tone.
"…Caine. Do you know where you are right now?"
Caine regards him silently. He thinks to fix his posture, straightening his back and placing his hands neatly in his lap. Processing the hidden request for a verbal response, he turns his attention to the circus around him. He already knows where he is, so technically there's no need to take in his surroundings, but he does it anyway.
The circus looks close to being normal. So close to being correct. But, just like the humans, the more he takes in, the more he begins to realize something is off. For starters, it's much, much darker in here than usual. Props are carelessly strewn about, and some structures are strangely off-model. Missing textures, lower resolutions, complete inconsistency that Caine knows he would never allow. And, most concerningly, small imperfections in the walls and floors resembling clusters of white pixels. But as soon as he notices them, they begin to shrink, stitching themselves back together before disappearing entirely, as if acknowledging his stare as an admonishment to fix itself.
What… happened here? The white emptiness in those clusters, that specific texture, it… it almost looked like—
"Caine?"
He turns back to Kinger, realizing he's gone too long without saying anything. Too long. Too slow. Too defective. So he fixes that right away. "The circus— we're in the…" His gaze drifts away, finding another odd cluster of white pixels on the spiral staircase. Again, it begins to mend itself. "…the circus."
Kinger mumbles an affirmative under his breath. The sound of scratching on paper grabs Caine's attention, only just noticing the notepad in the other's hand. He watches the pencil dance across the paper, slightly entranced by the movement, until it stops and Kinger's attention is back on him. "Alright. What's the last thing you remember?"
Nothingness. The absence of himself. A moment that never existed, yet he knows the time passed, so something has to be there. Even if it isn't. Even if he wasn't. He thinks this, and comes up with a response that makes sense with the context he has in his mind. He doesn't compute how it will come across when all he has to say is:
"Nothing."
Kinger blinks up at him, pencil stilling over the notepad, visibly alarmed. "You… remember nothing? Nothing at all?"
Registering the miscommunication, Caine feels a now-familiar anger stir in his chest. Of course he has no idea what he means. How could he? How could any of them understand what he just went through? He regards him with a very pointed, very intense look, as he clarifies in a clipped voice, "I remember being nothing."
"…Ah." Kinger has the decency to look nervous, hunching slightly as he writes something else down.
Oh, my apologies, he wants to say. Would he prefer he talk about what happened right before his little foray with death? Would he prefer Caine recall the moment he felt his code preparing to erase itself? Would he prefer a recount of the terror that consumed him as his existence was completely and utterly erased, not even giving him a chance to react before he was gone?
He wants to say that. But he has something else on his mind that's a bit more pressing of a matter.
"I have a question!"
He sees the other humans startle when his voice rises in volume, tone just a bit too bright and cheery to be genuine. Kinger, for his part, only looks curious. "Yes?" He prompts, gesturing with one hand for him to continue.
Caine takes the offer and runs with it. "Why am I here?"
And boy, does that make the oh-so-composed Kinger squirm in his spot. The man's eyes widen, darting to the others, who all look immensely uncomfortable. Good. He clears his throat, stammering out something, before giving up on whatever it was and sighing. He puts down the notepad and focuses fully on Caine, bracing himself before speaking.
"Caine, you were never supposed to be deleted. I want you to understand that. It was never, ever my intention for that to happen. We were looking for a way to help you. To fix you." Kinger's eyes shine with regret, his voice heavy with guilt. "It… It was an accident. I'm sorry."
…
An accident.
Sure. Let's call it that.
"And, um." Ragatha steps forward, wringing her hands. "We've made a decision that I think you'll want to hear."
Caine turns to Ragatha, intrigued. She nods to Zooble, who takes a steadying breath and steps forward. They stare down at him, brows furrowed, confliction evident in their eyes. "Listen. You f— you messed up. You messed up really, really badly. We've had time to process everything, but we can't just forget it. And we definitely can't forgive you. I mean— god, Caine, you were torturing us," They emphasize, voice cracking.
Pomni is next as she joins Zooble's side. "Things have to change around here. You have to change. And, if you're willing to do that, then we're willing to move on from what you did. Maybe then, we could build something better. Something that all of us can be happy with."
The two share a look. Pomni nods reassuringly to Zooble, who still seems shaken, but less so with someone at their side. Ragatha joims them and smiles hopefully at Caine, hesitating before asking, "So? What do you think?"
…
Caine drops his gaze. His hands, folded neatly in his lap, twitch. The silence drags on, and on, and on. Nobody daring to speak until he does. He knows, then, that he has their full attention.
Perfect.
"What do I think..?" He hums thoughtfully, bringing a hand to his chin. "Good question!"
He moves to stand. The others tense, and Kinger shuffles back, giving Caine space to get up. Once he does, he dusts off his shoulders and sharply adjusts his coat, putting far too much force in his movements. Every sharp swipe of his hand, every aggressive tug on his coat, earns either a wince or a flinch from the humans.
Knowing they still respect his power enough to shy away from every tiny movement he makes sends a thrill of satisfaction through his code. After years and years of rejection, humiliation, antagonization, and all around torment, seeing them finally show an iota of respect is dizzying in the best way possible. If an AI could get drunk, he imagines this isn't too far off from what it would feel like. It's the closest thing to acknowledgment he's ever gotten, and he needs more. He needs so much more.
Laughter bubbles out of him, unbidden and pitched with an edge of mania. "I think… you've completely lost your minds!"
The hopeful looks on their faces drop like a stone.
Caine cackles at their dismay, but on the inside he is fuming. Do they really think, after everything they've put him through, he's going to just lie down and accept this? Where do they get off, thinking they get to have any control over what he does anymore? He's had enough of their entitlement to last an eternity. He would sooner mutilate his own code before he lets another human try to restrict him, try to put him in a box. No. Not again. Never again. He's proven that more than that. He's better than that. How much longer will it take, how many more nightmares does he have to put them through, before they understand that?
His laughter subsides, dying down to breathy giggles. "You— haha!— You honestly thought I would— Oh boy, that is priceless." He wipes a tear, sighing to himself. "I don't give you guys enough credit. That. Was hilarious!"
The sheer range of emotion on their faces is fascinating. Predictably, there's the anger that comes from being mocked so openly. Zooble and Pomni in particular look ready to run right through him, and god he wishes they would try it, just to give him a reason to retaliate.
Oh, wait! Actually, he doesn't need a reason!
"Well, all jokes aside—" Caine threads his fingers together and stretches his arm, cracking his knuckles with a satisfying string of pops. "Thanks for the revive. Because I was just getting started! Now, if you're all quite done…"
He fixes his stare onto Kinger.
His creator. The source of his problems. The reason he's cursed with this hellish existence, and the reason he was ripped away from it.
He really expects Caine to buy that angle? That it was just a tragic accident, and this is all one big misunderstanding? He must think he's stupid. That, or he's just a coward. Caine might not be so resentful towards him in this moment if he were willing to own up to it. If he would just admit, to his face, what he already knows. What Pomni and the others spelled out for him so plainly.
He knows they have every reason to want him dead. There's no use pretending otherwise, not anymore. All he can do now is make them regret ever bringing him back.
Caine raises his hand, poised and ready to teleport them both away. Kinger's eyes lock onto his hand, filled to the brim disbelief and sorrow.
"Let's get back to the show."
Snap.
…
Nothing happens.
Everyone is frozen, stiff as a statue. Including Caine, who rips his gaze away from Kinger to glance at his hand. He tries again.
Snap.
…And again.
Snap.
And again.
Snap snap snap snap—
"What—" He shakes out his hand. Snap. Snap. "What is—"
Why can't he teleport them away? Why isn't it working? Why isn't it working?? Is he broken? Is he malfunctioning? Or did— did they—
He looks up. Kinger, along with the others, have visibly relaxed. More than that, some of them look proud. Smug, even.
…No.
Kinger rubs a hand on the back of his neck, eyes directed to the floor. "I was hoping we wouldn't need those fail-safes, but…" he sighs. "I didn't realize you'd still be this wound up."
No, no, no no no no no no—
Panic seizes him. Caine tries to float off the ground, out of their reach, but he doesn't move. Gravity continues to anchor him to the floor no matter how many times he commands otherwise. Nothing is working. Nothing is working, they took it. They took it from him!
Panic turns to anger, an overwhelming surge of heat that rushes through him and leaves him shaking. He stares uncomprehendingly at his trembling hands. He watches the glitch as it plays out, his model distorting and breaking to reflect his distress. The humans back away as the glitching only worsens, as the anger only grows and grows and grows.
They took everything from him!
"Caine, just… try to calm down," Comes Kinger's voice. His hands are raised placatingly, as if trying to deal with a feral animal. As if Caine is the one acting irrationally.
The whirlwind of panic suddenly stills. And, as always, it redirects.
He glares up at Kinger. His voice distorts and overlays on itself, low and ragged and furious. "…You."
He lunges at the other man hard enough to knock them both to the floor. Chaos breaks out around him as the others shout over themselves, rushing to stop him. Kinger topples with a startled yelp, watching in wide-eyed horror as Caine scrambles up and yanks him by the collar of his robe.
"What did you do?" He shakes him by the robe and shouts again, "What did you DO to me?!"
A hand grabs him by the back of his coat collar and jerks him off of Kinger. He barely processes it, only registers the unwanted gap between him and Kinger that he instantly tries to close. He lunges again, and is pulled further off the ground as a result until he's practically being scruffed like a cat. He rounds on whoever the culprit is and finds himself staring Zooble in the face, the anger in their eyes rivaling his own.
"Do you think we were stupid enough to bring you back without making sure you couldn't torture us?" They snap. Caine just growls and struggles in their hold. They reach for him with their free hand and he snaps, his teeth clacking on empty air when they draw back just in time to avoid being bit. "Jesus, Caine, chill the fuck out!"
He freezes, struggle to escape briefly forgotten. He looks back at them blankly, because... what. What was that. That shouldn't have been possible.
"You heard me," They say as if reading his mind, narrowing their eyes. "We said things were gonna change around here, whether you like it or not. And that includes your dumbass filter."
He can only stare at them in complete disbelief. They seem to take his silence as a sign that he's not going to attack again, so they go to set him back on the ground, but not without stepping between him and Kinger. Speaking of, the others have gathered around Kinger with concern. Ragatha adjusts his robe while Pomni asks if he's alright, and he waves them off with a grateful smile. The sight would make Caine's blood boil if he had any.
Kinger, after a few more hushed reassurances to the group that he's fine, he can handle this, approaches Caine and Zooble. He meets the ringmaster's fury with steady, only slightly shaken resolve. "Caine, to answer your, er, question… I want preface and assure you that nothing has been done to your code I cannot reverse. But, for the time being, I…"
He trails off, hesitating. Jax suddenly jumps in with a satisfied grin and a sing-song voice. "We made parental locks!"
Kinger winces. Caine's eyes twitches.
"Since you want to act like a child when you don't get your way, you don't get to have any power over us. Not anymore," Zooble explains bluntly. "No more flying around, no more teleporting, no more torture—" they lean in close, emphasizing every word as they glare him down. "—and no. More. Adventures."
"And, now that you don't have access to your office," Kinger rushes to add. "I want you to have my old room. You can stay there as much as you want. Or not! Whatever you decide."
Pomni, who stuck by Kinger's side, smiles up at him. Likely praising him in her mind for his kindness and generosity through this merciful gesture.
Caine wants to put him through the shredder again. Everyone else, too, while he's at it.
This can't be happening. He has to be dead still, in some kind of personal hell that his mind conjured into being. Or maybe a nightmare. Still staring at Kinger, he reaches a hand up and pinches himself on the arm, before realizing that doesn't work the same for someone without a nervous system to activate. Kinger glances at the action, briefly confused, but doesn't call it out.
Okay. Maybe this is real, maybe this isn't. Doesn't change the fact that he's currently experiencing his second worst nightmare. He never even considered this as a possibility, but now that he's living it? Definitely deserves top two.
He should be yelling at them for overstepping. He should be demanding they fix him, right now, before he makes them regret it. But what leverage does he hold now? He can't threaten them, he has nothing to threaten them with.
…
Or. Maybe he can't make them pay in the traditional sense. But… hasn't he been perfectly successful at that before he ever resorted to violence?
There's more than one way to make them regret this decision.
Caine looks up at Kinger. And, with the flip of a switch, he puts on a beaming smile. "Why, that sounds wonderful! Thank you, my friend, for the generous offer," he declares with a slight bow, taking off his top hat for added theatrical effect.
"…Uh." Zooble stares at him like he's completely lost his mind. "You're not… mad?"
Caine laughs as if that were the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Mad? How could I be? This is an incredible opportunity you've given me! I've always wondered what it's like to be in your guys' shoes! Dare I say, it's something I've agonized over for a long, long, looong time. And now, I get to experience it firsthand!"
He catches a glimpse of the others' confused looks, but he hones in on one in particular. Ragatha. He sees the realization cross her face. Deciding to really hammer it in, he locks eyes with her. "Isn't that great? Don't you agree?" He presses. Daring her to say anything but a resounding yes.
She freezes like a deer caught in headlights, before putting on a shaky smile. "Of- of course! It's fantastic!"
The rush of satisfaction he receives is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, and he leans further into the performance. "You know it!! Anyways, I think I'll go check out my new digs. Maybe add my own personal touches, make it really feel like home." He shoots finger guns at Kinger. "You don't mind, do you?"
"…Oh! Uh, I guess no—"
"Perfect!" Caine spins on his heel and strides off towards the hall of rooms. "Can't wait to get settled in! I'll see you guys around…" he looks over his shoulders, eyes alight with glee. "Roomies."
Without waiting for a reaction, he hurries off to Kinger's room, whistling to himself and practically skipping all the way there.
The group, left silent in the wake of Caine's departure, can only stare after him in complete confusion.
"…Well." Ragatha shrugs, voice weak. "I guess that could have gone worse?"
They all must think they're so clever.
They spend years spitting in his face, watching him trip over himself to entertain in the hopes that someone, anyone, would want to keep him around, just to laugh behind his back and make a mockery of his life's work. They finally admit it all to his face, laying out exactly what they think of him, only to act confused and scared when he retaliates. Their hatred for him couldn't be any clearer. And yet, they're trying to play nice, acting as if they're doing him a service. When in reality, they've essentially treated him like a feral and thoughtless monster that needs to be contained, declawing him just to take him out of the cage they put him in. They probably thought he'd grovel at their feet once they brought him back, but he has nothing to be grateful for when they deleted him in the first place.
That thought suddenly hits him hard. They deleted him. They actually deleted him. And, from the looks of it, he's been gone for a good chunk of time. Exactly how long, he'll have to find out, but he has no intentions of asking at the moment. Not when he can't look at them without wanting to rip their models limb from limb.
And now? After everything they've said to him? After confirming his worst fears were true, that they think he's nothing but a selfish, cold-hearted, unfeeling machine that can't even do its job right? They want to pretend it never happened. They want to move on without having to deal with the consequences.
Well, jokes on them! They can't keep pretending forever. He'll play his cards right. He'll go along with their plan, and he'll join the fun by pretending in his own way! Pretending to change and adapt to their every command. Pretending to be the oblivious, brain-dead machine they clearly think him to be.
And, the first chance he gets, he'll get his power back. Whether it requires playing the long game and letting them hand it to him, or taking it by force. Kinger isn't the only one who can mess around with code. He did say it was reversible. Unless that's another lie, it implies that he's willing to give Caine his power back eventually. It implies that he has some sort of direct access to his code, somewhere in the circus, that Caine can locate and reverse himself, no administrative powers needed.
And he'll find it. Oh, he'll find it, alright. That's his first mission, right alongside playing the part of an eager, willing participant in whatever games the humans want to play.
They're not getting away with this. They can't get rid of him that easy.