Chapter Text
Battat would never admit this to anyone, not even his fellow Mikes, but he found a certain joy in doing things for Tenna in his Mike Persona. Most of the time at least. Sure, sometimes things got weird, like when Tenna wanted him to sing to his secret cupboard in the back of the Bonus Zone. And maintenance days were always a pain, especially given that he'd had to teach himself everything. (There had to be someone in the studio better qualified, he was certain, but Tenna always insisted that Mike knew what to do, that he was the only one capable of handling the annual tune-ups.) But it beat working on the set with the other pippins, shuffling through the day-to-day with coworkers that thought him strange and eccentric and just didn’t get him.
And besides all that, sometimes when he worked with Tenna, the old CRT would make an offhand comment about the past that added one more piece of information to his cork board, bringing him one step closer to discovering the true identity of Mike.
Today, Tenna had barged into the Mike room, announcing that Toriel was doing her annual spring cleaning. Which meant a few hours being unplugged. Which meant Tenna was an anxious mess. Which meant Mike had to find a way to keep him occupied so he didn’t flip out on the staff.
Luckily, Battat had anticipated the incident after doing the Mike stint for a couple years, and already had a few ideas in his head. He mentally ran through the line up before settling on the one he thought would be the most useful.
“Why not do a bit of Spring cleaning of our own, boss?” he’d said. “You got all those boxes of memorobilia piling up in the back of your closet. Might as well get them properly rearranged, if nothing else. You know, condense things… and stuff. I’ll help.”
And maybe there’ll be some hints about Mike that I couldn’t access before.
After a an uncomfortably long pause, Tenna exclaimed, “Why, Mike! That’s a wonderful idea! I’ll meet you in my room!” And then he dashed off, leaving Battat stunned that had actually worked.
Unfortunately, more than an hour into the cleaning job, so far he'd come up with a fat load of nothing. Sure, there was plenty of stuff about Tenna, including stuff from before he’d joined, and he expected that from the guy that plastered his face all over the studio. But how many figurines of yourself does one guy need? There'd been one in every box so far, each with a plaque at the bottom reading "Boss of the Year." Of course he was boss of the year. Who else was there? Battat thanked his lucky stars his eyeroll wasn't visible beneath his Mike mask.
He heaved for breath as he pushed a box labeled "2012" from the back of the closet, the corners dented and covered in dust. It was a heavy one, and almost three quarters his height. It would have been great if Tenna would help him move stuff. But no. He was too distracted with...
"Oh Mike! Isn't this darling? Look at this Tennaling-themed onesie!" Mike looked up just in time to scramble out of the way of a palm as big as he was, held out to display a tiny little outfit the same shade as Tenna’s casing, with a pocket in the shape of a TV stitched on the front.
"I had these made up back when Asriel was born! Oh he was simply darling at that age. And Toriel and Asgore were both so tired, but so happy to have their little bundle of joy. Oh, you would have just loved him back then, I'm sure."
Mike rubbed at the back of his head. "Oh, heheheh. That's great boss. Glad you're finding all sorts of old goodies." Now if only he'd spend a little more time sorting instead of gushing over them.
Then he registered more of Tenna's words. He'd stated Mike would have loved to see Asriel back then. So Mike wasn't here when Asriel was born. That narrowed things down a bit. He arrived less than 18 years ago, and disappeared at least 6 years ago, before Battat himself had arrived. That was still a fairly sizable gap, but it was still narrower than his initial search.
And 2012 was actually in that time frame. Making this the perfect box to go through.
Wiping some of the dust off with the back of his hand, Mike sliced the tape open and pulled the flaps loose, peeking inside.
A few items of gift shop apparel sat on top. Junk, for his purposes. He tossed them on the pile of other Tenna-themed apparel (one of the biggest piles thus far. Tenna really needed to stop getting caught up in nostalgia and start reboxing these before the work space got too cluttered. But what did he know?
Under that was some sort of scrapbook, simply labeled with the year. Battat had gone through a few of these already. He was prepared to sit it aside with the rest of the photo albums, but reminded himself that this was a Mike-relevant year. It wouldn't hurt to skim for a moment, would it? It wasn't doing the same thing Tenna was, wasting time with nostalgia. It was research! Two totally different things.
And sure, it seemed like no one had ever seen Mike before he took over the role, but… there had to be at least one picture out there, right?
The first page was, of course, filled with photos of Tenna. Another page was just dedicated to cutesy photoshoots of Elnina and Lanino. He rolled his eyes, flipping quickly through the next several pages.
Then he saw a photo that gave him pause. It was innocuous enough, a polaroid plastered at the bottom corner of one page. Scrawled at the bottom was the words, "Here's to another successful year." The photo had Tenna at the center, with two other darkners sat on either shoulder. But Battat had never seen either of them in his life.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. The darkner on Tenna's left looked suspiciously like the canon Tenna had built for his monster minigame, with those same cheerful eyes and that black, slicked back hair. Not to mention the nose. The darkner on Tenna's right reminded him a bit of Ramb, but wasn't quite the same as him. They had the same color hair and the same kind of ears, but the similarities stopped there. For one thing, this plugboy was clean shaven, not a sign of a beard on them. For another, their hair was longer and shaggier. They were dressed in formal wear, a deep purple suit that complimented their hair. And most notably, in Battat's opinion, they lacked the crinkles beneath the eyes.
Still, aside from the canon and the existence of Ramb as the same species, Battat had never seen either of these darkners in his life. Who were they?
"What are you looking at, Mike? We don't have all day, you know."
Battat was startled out of his thoughts by Tenna's voice, nearly dropping the album. He scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor.
"Just taking a peek at these old photos, boss!" Mike said quickly as Tenna leaned over to get a better look. “I’ll get back to it in just a… moment?”
Something shifted in the old CRT's expression, smile turning melancholic.
"Oh, that does bring back memories..." Tenna shank down a little, brushing one finger over the page. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, since you took that form? I still miss it sometimes."
What.
What???
Mike stiffened, grip tightening on the book. This was huge. This was the kind of clue he needed. If Battat understood correctly, one of these two darkners was Mike. But he didn't have the faintest clue which one. Not yet at least. He needed to add this to his corkboard immediately. To ponder over it until he could work out the answer.
Then Tenna's expression soured. "I don't want to look at this anymore. Mike, get rid of it. Put it with the others."
What? He couldn't just put it away. Who knew when Tenna would bring it out again. Especially when his opinion had changed on a dime. He shut the book, scrambling for any sort of excuse. "Actually boss, I uh, was thinking, uh... Mind if I hold on to this one for a while? You know, for, uh... old times sake."
Tenna faltered, his screen flickering out. He stood up to his full height, putting his hands behind his back. "Are you sure, Mike? There's all sorts of photo albums here. At least one for every year since the Dreemurrs brought me home! Are you sure you want to take that one?”
The way Tenna was being cagey about it, he was positive. "I'm sure," Mike said out loud. "Like you said, it's got photos of me. You know I've always been a bit, uh... camera shy."
A moment of silence passed, then Tenna let out a weak chuckle. "I suppose you're right. And I know you miss him, too. I… get it.” Battat sure didn’t. “You can borrow it for a while. But make sure you bring it back soon, okay? I can't have you going and losing it, leaving a gap in my extensive history, now can I?"
Battat resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course not, boss! That would be a real shame. We can’t go and lose any part of TV Time history. It would kill the archivist in me.” He stood up, ready to race away back to Mike room to get to work disecting this juicy new piece of information. With just a little more work, he could finally put a face to the name.
Then he glanced back at the mess in the room and remembered that they weren't nearly done with this sort. Ugh, this was going to take all day, wasn't it? He stifled a groan, setting the album to the side as he reached back into the box for another fucking Tenna statue.
Suddenly, sorting through this mess was feeling less like a potential goldmine of information and more like a chore. They couldn't get done with it soon enough.