Chapter Text
As long as Queenie was still around, it didn’t matter who else abstracted. Scratch was a tough blow to work through, but it was a challenge faced alongside the love of his life. With her at his side, Kinger was sure he could come out of this on top. She made him feel invincible, like everything was worth it and every goal was attainable no matter the path they had to walk for it. He was certain they’d make it through to the end even if he didn’t know what the end looked like nor how far away it could be.
So.. Queenie abstracting had never been in cards. It wasn’t part of the hand he’d dealt himself for his time here and it threw everything off course. Caine lowering her abstracted form into the cellar below was a scene that replayed in his mind over and over again to the point that he’d disassociated from daily life in the circus entirely. His mind was trapped in a prison of its own design wherein he was pelted with guilt and despair. It was all his fault and the responsibility he held in the loss of his wife was all he could fathom for months on end.
It was like flicking a light bulb off. The moment Queenie went, so did Kinger’s sanity. He’d been so perfectly lucid before this; persistently wise and a go-to for advice whenever the others felt blue. Now it was like his soul had been stripped from his body and he was walking around as an empty vessel by instinct alone.
Caine was the only one there to observe this change. He’d always longed for the approval and love of his creator - now that everyone else was gone he thought it’d be easier to attain it. The opposite was proven to be true. Day after day he prepared adventure after adventure, each one intentionally targeted towards the lone chess piece and the things Caine knows him to enjoy. Every single time Kinger would show up and he couldn’t tell if it was out of choice or out of the routine buried in his subconscious.
He didn’t ever answer any of the remarks Caine tossed his way, he only waited for the portal to open then walked inside. Caine’s endless optimism would fade away the second he was out of sight. The AI couldn’t find a rational explanation for it, but seeing Kinger in this state made him feel ..
..
He couldn’t find an explanation for it. A human may have said it felt as though their heart had sunk to their gut, but he could never know what such a thing meant. So instead of being able to understand his emotions, he tossed and turned in the discomfort of unfamiliarity. It’s not like there was anyone for him to ask about this. Maybe he had a virus.
Kinger didn’t participate in the adventures. He’d become a background character to the NPCs whom Caine had act out a whole scene in the hopes that watching a story might entice Kinger to join in. He couldn’t help that notice, though, that Kinger wasn’t even watching. Those blue eyes that’d held so much intelligence were now devoid of life and looked at nothing but the ground he walked upon.
Time was a concept that had slipped away entirely for the lone chess piece. The same few thoughts and scenes looped through his head and he walked the same loops around the circus each day, his path only interrupted when Caine designated time for an adventure. He’d start outside his door, walk past the rooms of those who’d abstracted, pass the stage and then loop back through the aforementioned hallway. Sometimes Caine would watch and Bubble would yammer about the loopy idiot, sometimes Caine couldn’t bear to see it and stuck to his office.
“I don’t get it.”
Caine restlessly swapped positions. One moment he was sat in his chair, the next he was lying on his desk. Then, he was pacing circles in front of it. Bubble hovered nearby and watched with an unnerving stare, for once letting Caine ramble on without interruption.
“I haven’t had any software updates. We scanned several times and no malware was detected.”
His upper gums had furrowed to mimic the thoughtful crease of a human brow as he spoke his confusion aloud.
“You’re brrr-!” Bubble mused out of turn, glitching a few times before he could get the second word out. He popped out of existence only to reappear on the other side of Caine so he could finish his sentence. “Broken!”
Caine ignored it. Instead, he returned to his desk and tapped on the keyboard to wake his computer up. A screen full of camera footage lit up as the desktop returned to life: each small window depicted a different corner of the circus. He looked over them all before enlarging the one he could see Kinger in. To no surprise, he was stood outside Queenie’s door staring at the red cross drawn over her avatar.
Kinger lifted one hand and pressed it against the door. He couldn’t bring himself to enter her room, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want his perception of it to change. It’d feel too empty and lonely to push open the door and see the uninhabited darkness within. To see it abandoned would truly cement that she was gone and he wasn’t ready to come to terms with that.
Instead, he dwelled on all the things he could’ve - should’ve - done differently. Every dark thought ran down the same path and led to the same conclusion that he should’ve been the one to abstract, not her. She was the light in his night sky and the inspirational, loving figure everyone looked to. She should have been the one to go on because God knows she would’ve found a way out and the world would’ve been better for it. It felt wrong that he survived.
That was the first time Kinger’s mental state plummeted into the darkness. Sure, he’d been noticeably empty prior to this but now the only thought looping in his head was that he should’ve abstracted.
It should’ve been him.
It should’ve been him.
It grew louder, harder to ignore and more like a destiny than a wish. Things grew fuzzy in Kinger’s peripheral vision and it felt like his breath was catching in his throat even though he didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t feel like he was ten miles away from the circus anymore, he began to reconnect with the time passing in front of him and an overwhelming sense of irritation overtook him.
So when Caine materialised in front of him, he noticed this time. The eyes Caine had only seen emptiness in for the longest time were full of a growing ire, an anger targeted specifically at the AI. After all, it was Caine who banished Queenie to the basement after her abstraction. Maybe it was his fault.
The fire was so overwhelming it was the only thing Kinger could think and feel. Caine, on the other hand, was the only one with the rational outside view of the chess piece. He’d only appeared in the first place because of the dark mass that’d begun to eat at the bottom of Kinger’s cloak. He was hopeful he could do something to prevent it growing but had frozen like a deer in headlights seeing him in person. A lurid yellow eye flickered open from within the black taint. It stared up at Caine and the sight of it spurred the AI into action.
“Now now, Kinger!” He mused in an upbeat, teasing tone as he hovered to position himself slightly to the side so he could get a proper glance at the ..
..
He wasn’t going to label it. That would make it real.
“I think I remember telling you not to go abs-...” Caine’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t keep up that performative glee as he watched another eye pop open, this time a violent red. His arms lowered to sit limp at his side as he stared into the growing corruption.
Kinger didn’t sit as idle. He spun around to face Caine and swiped a hand at the AI who jumped backwards to avoid it. If he had a neck, Kinger would’ve gone for it. Instead, he had to settle for lurching forwards to grab his ankle so he could pull the ringmaster out of the sky. It caught Caine off guard and he hit the carpeted floor with an audible thud, a static glitch pulsing throughout his body as a robotic screech left him.
“You did this, Caine!” Kinger yelled as he flung Caine against the nearby wall for a similar effect. It would’ve been easy enough for Caine to snap his fingers and resolve the situation, but something odd compelled him not to. He let it happen.
“She’s gone!” He threw Caine against the floor. “And it’s all!” Against the wall. “Your!” Against the floor. “Fault!” Against the wall.
With the last fling he let Caine go and watched the AI splat against a painting before unceremoniously falling to the ground. The painting followed suit, smashing over the top of his gums. The different pieces of the wooden frame fell around Caine’s form as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, head slowly lifting to look up at Kinger with a distinct lack of the usual confidence he typically carried.
“Kinger, please-” He started, pausing only because he noticed the abstraction had spread. Every other time someone had abstracted he’d been too late to do anything besides condemning the lost mind to the cellar. Could he do something this time? Or did he have to watch the last person he had slip away? Was it unfair to refer to Kinger as simply ‘the last person’?
Kinger’s fists were balled. He had no intention of letting Caine get back up again, nor did he seem interested in listening to anything he had to say in protest. He couldn’t process anything happening around him and could only give in to this well of negativity, full to the brim with water no bucket could empty in time. All the good memories of Queenie had been painted over and the only thing left was anger in its most potent form.
Caine’s eyes lowered. He didn’t want to see Kinger in this state but he had to save him. If only he knew how.
Abruptly he pushed up from the floor and staggered into Kinger’s large form to wrap his arms around him. There was no logic or thought behind the action, it simply felt .. right. It comforted something inside of him that he couldn’t understand and that brief respite helped him to ignore the blistering pains echoing throughout his gums and body from the prior damage. If there was less going on he would’ve questioned why he was feeling physical pain at all. It shouldn’t have been possible.
Kinger didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture at all, fists repeatedly pummeled into every part of Caine he could feasibly reach. No matter how hard he hit, though, Caine’s grip didn’t budge at all. Similarly, Kinger showed no signs of exertion and whilst Caine could certainly remain like this - he was overly conscious of the ticking clock. Slowly, he arched his head upwards. Sometimes Kinger would hit it and he’d be knocked down. Two steps forward, one step back until he managed to look up at the taller man properly. Emptiness had felt kinder to look at.
“I’m sorry, Kinger.” Was the first thing he said. It didn’t have any effect. Kinger aimed a punch directly down at the front of Caine’s top gun and it landed with such brutality that it stained his white glove with blood. Caine had begun to think about the oddity of his form growing more.. tangible? Destructible?
But he didn’t mind. In a way, it made him feel more human. It made him feel a little closer to the pain Kinger felt.
“I didn’t mean to.” He continued. He recalled the event. He’d dismissed Queenie into the cellar with such a dismissive remark and joking tone, only now did that feel like a mistake.
Kinger’s punches were beginning to slow, not because of Caine’s words themselves but because of the remorseful tone that carried them. When he threw his next punch, it was slower. Slow enough for him to notice the mass of abstraction on his fist as it made contact with the side of one of Caine’s teeth.
And that stopped him entirely.
He lifted that fist and unfurled it to set his eyes on the glitchy black puddle overtaking his palm. Several eyes stared back at him.
It was a sign of impending doom, but that wasn’t what withdrew him from his rampage. No, instead of worrying about his own abstraction all he could think about was Queenie’s. Seeing those eyes again.. it was comforting. He was brought back to the darkness of the pillow fort and the last few moments they spent together before she was taken away.
“Please don’t leave me.” Caine pleaded. His gums had shut entirely so he hadn’t seen Kinger’s attention fall away from him, instead he’d been anticipating the next hit and preparing to hold on for dear life as and when it landed. It never came. Slowly, one corner of his upper gum arched for him to cautiously peer up at the chess piece.
Kinger was looking down at him in return.
He wasn’t angry and he wasn’t distant - his eyes were full of sadness. That wasn’t something Caine wanted to see either so he slammed his own eyes shut again and tightened his grip around the man. Slowly, Kinger lowered his hands to gently set them on Caine’s back in return.
“I’m sorry, Caine. You’re only doing what you’re programmed to. It’s not your fault. You did your best for me. For us all.”
Caine opened his eyes and tears ran over his gums. Kinger’s eyelids and eyebrows softened into what would’ve been a smile if he’d had a mouth. The two of them could’ve been content in the quiet that followed for a prolonged period of time, but Caine had to sneak a look at the brim of Kinger’s cloak for fear that they didn’t have that long. An invisible weight lifted from his form when he saw the usual purple fabric lined with white, spotted fur. It was gone.
When they finally departed, things changed. Kinger stopped pacing the circus like a hollow soldier and returned to his room to rest for once. Twelve months of co-ordinating adventures for a man too devoid of life to process them had ended. Tomorrow would hold something new, but for now there was tonight.
Caine watched from his office as Kinger entered his room and closed the door behind him. He turned the desktop off and, in spite of not needing it, prepared to rest himself only to be interrupted by an uncomfortable sensation in the neck he didn’t have. It felt blocked. Both of his hands fumbled at the underside of his gums as he coughed several times. On the last one, he spat out a singular red petal. It flew into the air and slowly floated to the ground. Caine watched it in confusion.
“Right..”
He concluded it was a virus of some sort after all. Maybe that’d explain all the errors he’d experienced throughout the day. Instead of resting, he dug into the code within his own mind to program a ‘soft reset’ of sorts. The malware only started showing signs today, so he’d rewind himself to yesterday’s saved version.
That’d resolve all these bugs.
Of course, it also meant he’d forget all the events of today.