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What did it even mean to fail at the one thing you were made to do?
Here, now, Caine was tearing them apart, putting on a grand spectacle all to prove a point.
He went into their minds, personal, invasive, and dug out all of their greatest fears—no matter how decrepit it was. To prove what point? That he did listen.
This was his breaking point—the constant lack of appreciation for his efforts, slaving, suffering, all for the appreciation of a few humans. All he wanted to do, all he’d dedicated himself to, was making adventures for them—making them happy here. To be a part of them, and be loved.
And if all he got in return was glares? Insults? Disgust? He’d prove it, he’d prove they were wrong. In his blind rage, this dizzying show, he’d come out as the favorite and make them appreciate him.
He’d kick them down, stab them, make them say nothing but praise—because he felt like he deserved it.
Yet it felt empty.
Even though he’d gotten what he wanted, wrung them dry, there wasn’t that feeling he’d expected. That joy, happiness, and especially the warmth that humans feel. It felt hollow.
And he didn’t understand why.
That was at the core of this entire disaster—he couldn’t understand.
He couldn’t understand why they weren’t happy. He couldn’t understand why they were upset with him.
He couldn’t understand why they hated him.
He couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong.
And, most of all,
He couldn’t understand why they wanted to leave him here.
It felt like no matter what he did, eventually they’d abstract. They’d all try and escape, none of them would ever love what he made, what he thought he was supposed to do best—make adventures.
All of it built up, more and more, until it came out in the ugliest way possible—which is what landed the cast where they were right now.
Torture, back to back, no matter what they tried to tell him—even praising him didn’t work anymore, and that was the scariest part.
Hell, it was what made Caine…Caine. He lived for being appreciated, and seeing him get bored so fast when they tried it now was terrifying.
He even said it himself, that compared to before, his adventures didn’t feel as fulfilling. Nothing felt as satisfying.
The reality was that torture he was putting them through didn’t make him feel any better.
In fact, once he truly realized the extent of it, it’d make him feel worse.
The ironic part? Even though it didn’t bring him nearly as much joy, he was so much better at torturing them than he was at making them happy—of course, because tearing them apart was so easy; it was a simple input and output.
But making them happy? There was no formula; It was abstract.
And he could never compute a logical solution.
Caine was doomed to fail from the start.
Even way back when, the days of Scratch and Kinger, and even now—he’ll never make them happy. And this breaking point, the one leading him to tear apart the very world he built, was inevitable.
After all, he was never the better of the two.
That’s why the first of them was gone.
Because Caine wanted to be the better half.
But he wasn’t.
And no matter how much he screamed, cried, how hard of a fit he threw—no one would hear him. Even if any of them did? They’d let him break.
And break he did.
At this moment, he was the closest to human he’d ever been. He had the cast pinned beneath his rage, overwhelmed completely by white hot fury.
He was so angry, hurt, confused. Close to a child, screaming because he just couldn’t understand. All he wanted was to be loved, appreciated.
He never asked for this. He didn’t ask to be here.
He never wanted to hurt them.
He just wanted them to be happy.
And for those few seconds of clarity he had right before he got deleted?
He understood. He realized what he’d done.
And he felt so much pain, for not even a second, that he could’ve cried.
But it was too late now.
All that was left of him was the space where he once stood.