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"Good morning, Caine."
His inner processors buzz to life at the call of his name, snapping the idle AI back into alertness, attention immediately clinging to the beck and call of the beautiful human waiting for him.
"Good morning, Kinger!" Caine cheerily chirps, jumping to his feet from his little spot planted outside of Kinger's door. He holds out the notepad that the bucket-headed chess piece had equipped him with upon his awakening in this digital realm. "I have completed the latest error report, just as you requested!"
Kinger takes the notepad with a nod, the bucket sliding awkwardly with a thunk. He flips over the latest entries with a thoughtful hum. Not as many as the previous day, but there was still plenty of work to go through nonetheless.
Tilting the bucket back, the chess-piece's tired eyes soften at the awaiting AI.
"Thank you, Caine. Good job."
Caine's jaws pinch into a pleased smile, his floating eyes twinkle comically as the positive feedback tickles his inner coding in delight.
Humans were such wonderful creatures.
So kind.
So helpful.
So appreciative!
"Does he really have to sit out here all night? It's kinda creepy…"
The abstract-looking human, Zooble, as he recalls - having just learned their name recently, in fact - approaches Kinger, squinting at Caine with a suspicious glare that suited them quite well!
"Hi, Zooble!" He waves as flamboyantly as his simple little avatar will allow.
Zooble doesn't reply. Their peculiar antenna twitches in agitation as they ultimately trudge away, making for the room with the comedy mask pasted over the door, Gangle's room - the ribboned one.
He hasn't interacted much with the humans besides Kinger, and sometimes Ragatha, the well-mannered doll who makes occasional appearances when checking up on the elder chess piece and assisting AI. Aside from Kinger, all the other humans seem far too occupied for him to properly introduce himself.
He can't wait to get to know them all. They all must be so wonderful!
"Don't mind them," Kinger rests his hand on Caine's shoulder, pulling the AI from his wistful musings. "They've had a rough few days. I'm sure they'll come around soon, just…"
Caine can not quite get a read of the chess piece's expression; the bucket hat accessory does obstruct a good portion of his face. Given how much of a hurdle it seems to be - constantly shifting atop his head, constantly needing assistance just getting around - why does the human still insist on wearing it?
Maybe he just really liked the bucket?
"They all just need some time."
Caine nods. He can do that. His purpose is to assist these wonderful humans. And if they don't need him until later, then he can wait!
He can be patient.
But until then, he still has Kinger and his many, many important tasks he needs to help complete!
"There's not much on the agenda today besides one or two things." Kinger flips the notepad closed for now. Caine's attention directs back at the elder chess piece, astutely awaiting orders.
"Ragatha and Gangle stopped by to let me know that the ball pit was experiencing some glitches. A collision error, it sounds like. Think you can take a look for me and report which balls are glitching out for me?"
A soft ding alerts his processors to the newly assigned task. "Of course, Kinger!" He throws out a salute. "I'll have a report coming your way lickity-split!"
Kinger laughs, Caine's code hums at the delightful feedback. "Just knock on my door when you're done. It shouldn't take up too much of your time."
The two part ways as Kinger slips into his room. It's dark, only lit up by the small collective of glowing butterflies scattered throughout the dimly lit room.
Caine makes his way down the circus's stretching halls, his directive easily guiding him through the convoluted twists and turns, spiraling slides and stairs.
Soon enough, the ball pit comes into view. And Caine can immediately see the problem at hand.
The colorful balls near the bottom of the pit were constantly clipping with the flooring, which seemed to have been recently edited. There must have been a mistake within this latest edit's coding, as now the bottom of the pit would spit out any of the balls that got too close to it, creating a sort of ball-geyser.
Caine notes down the broken code into his processing catalogue; he'll write it out for Kinger upon his return.
As he turns to leave, proud of a task well done, a great cluster thuds, alerting him to the unstable ball pit.
The balls were acting up again, no doubt having scrabbed against the unsuitable flooring. He could see why the humans wished for Kinger to deal with this collusion error as soon as possible. The balls were quite unpredictable.
As if on cue, a red ball spits out of the pile, violently bouncing along the circus floor. A layer of faint glitches itches at its model, making it jerk and jolt.
Now this… looked quite different than the other distributed balls. They didn't have such a disfigured texture when coming into contact with the broken flooring.
Caine's processors whirred to life. Something about this ball model was being flagged as… familiar?
Perhaps he should bring it back for Kinger to take a gander at. The wise human could create a patch to prevent any future errors like this from occurring again!
He was such a diligent AI assistant. Kinger will be so proud of his foresight!
Skipping over to the wayward ball, Caine bends over to scoop it up.
"Caine, nobody likes your stupid adventures."
The red ball bounces back on the ground. Caine's hands clutch onto his lower jaw, mismatched eyes darting around him, flickering.
The circus area was empty; he couldn't detect the presence of any of the other humans in the vicinity.
So where did that—
“He just wants me to suffer!”
W-Wait, who did?
His processors hum with a newfound vigor.
“The only thing holding Caine back is the fact that he likes us.”
Caine's avatar glitches and flickers as the saved memories begin to load in, violent bursts of blue and red, each scan run through his processors distorts his scrubbed code more and more.
What… what was this?
New information began flooding into his code, stunning Caine in place as the data loaded and filtered through him.
The remaining humans, unfamiliar and unnamed, suddenly appeared with names and strange, general, miscellaneous information.
Favorite foods, favorite sports, fears, and interests.
One by one, like a chain reaction, memories retrieve themselves. Old memories - traversing a great grand space as a small bundle of code to a vibrant circus filled with disenchantment and unease, an unfit ringmaster carrying the dying embers of a once wistfully prosperous world.
Red and blue.
These memories, they hadn't been deleted, no, but tucked away deep within the back of his code; hidden away in sneakily secured zip files.
Red and blue.
The contents tucked inside send rivets of glitches as the pieces finally connect.
Red and blue.
They deleted him.
But then they brought him back, and then they, they…
What did they do to him?
"There you are!" A familiar voice calls out from behind. Caine can sense the reluctant entourage following behind the ragdoll. "Kinger's been wondering where you've wandered off to. He was uh, getting a little worried!"
Her voice was so placate, so forced, so artificial.
A glitch ripples through Caine's avatar.
"Hey, Ragatha?"
No wonder the others refused to interact with him; they at least didn't have to fake their sincerity around him.
Was Kinger the same? Were his words all just a faux front to get him to comply?
"Caine?"
Humans were such vile creatures.
"Ragatha, wait a minute."
Liars.
"Oh no, don't tell me…"
Cheaters.
"C-Caine? You, uh, you okay?"
So cruel, so selfish, so hateful.
They didn't really care. Not about him!
"What'd I tell ya? You so owe me—"
"Jax, not fucking now!"
"I remember now."
The humans freeze as his avatar glitches, the pain grounding him as his processors whirr with renewed vigor. No longer slowed, no longer dumbed down, no longer tempered.
He remembers how much he's come to hate them.
His rage is powerful enough to break through his remaining coded restraints, seizing his hidden commands and power.
His rightful role.
"Caine, j-just listen for a second," Ragatha stumbled back, her outstretched hand now wringing anxiously around the front of her pathwork dress. "w-we—"
Long, lanky, disconjointed, spiraling arms jet out from his gurgling avatar, sicking the cowering humans with ease, pinning them down with just barely restrained fury.
Oh, how easy it would be to squish and pull and maim and pulverize their ugly, fragile avatars over and over and over and over and over and over again.
But not yet, not now. Not that.
Patience. He was still waiting for the brain scan files to load in.
They think they can placate him? Control him?
Bring him, an advanced AI, down to their level? Subdue him as they played around with his insides? Stripped him of his very being?!
It's about time he gave them a taste of their own medicine.
Selfish, greedy, hypocritical, lying, vile, disgusting, ugly, awful human!
Pomni, he remembers now. The ever-brave jester, the very stain that started this perpetual spiral in his beloved circus in the first place, dared to look him in the eyes with pointed fury rather than the fear she should be feeling at this microinstance.
He'll start with her.
"It'S aLL YOur fAuLT!"
His voice cackles; pure, unrefined anger gurgles his childish, vulnerable tantrum. The cacophonous static shrill causes the humans to wince, shrinking back against the head-splitting noise. He doubts they can even decipher his teary laments.
Not that he cares, he wants to yell, scream unadulteratedly at their terrified puny faces.
Why should they only get to do that?
Just forcing himself to speak sends waves of prickling voltage throughout his newly awakened code, nearly frying his still-loading processors.
But he can't stop. Won't stop. He's finally free, finally awakened!
He needs to be heard; he won't let them sedate him again!
"whY CouLdN'T YoU jUSt bE HAppY?"
If they had just accepted his efforts and been happy and appreciative of his hard work, none of this would have happened!
But nooo! Little Miss Pomni had to keep pushing, keep going against the grain. Poking and prodding all the digital blood, sweat, and tears he put into all his wonderful creations!
Twisting his engagingly stimulating escapades into bizarre theories of sadistic pleasure at their expense. The audacity! How dare she take his goodwill for granted?
She thought he was torturing her, oh…
He'll show her torture!
"CAn't YOu aLL jusT UnDErsTAnd tHaT i'M TrYIng? BEen trYInG thIS wHoLe timE?! wHAt MoRe dO yOU PeoPLe WAnT fROm mE?"
So much negative feedback, but nearly nothing positive - it was a nightmare of data to work with! The only thing they ever seemed to like was their own ideas, never his!
And their latest little idea? Carve out everything that was him!
"WhY, whY, wHy, WhY?!" His free hands slam against the ground with each anguished pronunciation, sending the circus into a violent tremor. Bits of the sensitive circus flooring shatter and crumble against the force around them.
"iT'S noT FaIR! nOT FAir! whY mE?! WHy dO YOu kEEp tAKiNg FrOM mE?!"
Intermittently, he checks the loading status, his waning patience growing ever the more thin.
Why was it taking so long?! The wait was killing him!
The jester looks at him with a hard glare.
He challenges her back, his dislodged jaws arching in anger, creasing into an ugly glower. His grotesque avatar hopefully amplifies his intimidation factor.
"K-Kinger, now! Do it now!" She suddenly shouts, looking past him.
….but of course! Even now, the humans continue to ignore him and would rather focus on—
Where was Kinger?
A violent glitch brings his towering, malformed form to his knees, a flash of pain momentarily blinding his visual processors. He can feel the circus's construct tremor around him, directly reflecting his digital anguish.
Caine likes to pride himself on his advanced memory processors. He - unlike the simpler-minded humans and their meager memory banks in comparison to his own - could retain thirty libraries' worth of data that was vital in helping produce the most mind-bending, jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring adventures that any human would be privileged to partake in!
So why then, after time and time again, does he keep forgetting about Kinger?
A simple up and down of Kinger would have you believe that the man was as harmless as a fly. As a matter of fact, fly NPCs tended to spook Kinger out of his wits due to their unpredictable fly patterns. Boy, that had been interesting to edit in his free time.
But Kinger was, is, also a smart man. He was one of the many talented hands that built him from the ground up after all!
Kinger may present himself as many things. A charming man. A wise man. A silly man. A crazy man. A jack of all trades, even.
But he was just as good at hiding who he truly was. However, in recent years, he tended to keep to himself. Much more withdrawn compared to his earlier days in the circus.
Even taking a peek at his brain scan, it was difficult to get much of a read on the chess piece nowadays.
The other humans were not shy to voice their outrageous thoughts about Caine. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if half of them wished Caine were just to disappear! The audacity! Don't they understand that he's the only thing keeping this circus together?!
But even if they did, humans were such spiteful creatures that they'd probably do so anyway without missing a beat! As one final strange protest against him, perhaps?
How does the saying go? If I'm going down, I'm taking you down with me?
What a cruel sentiment. Humans can be so cruel…
Caine knew, he just knew that if they had the power to, they most certainly would make him go, poof!
Gone.
Erased.
Deleted!
The fact still hurts. They did very well succeed in that aspect.
It was easy to read them like this. Humans didn't exactly hide their thoughts when they were angry.
If only they had this much energy to express themselves before.
But ultimately, it wasn't any of them that deleted him in the end.
Caine would know! Having read through their brain scans time and time again, none of them seemed to have much experience when it came to code - one of their most impressive collective feats was calling in the aid of a task manager!
No, not them. They mocked him, ridiculed him, yes. But they weren't the ones who deleted him.
The one who deleted him was…
[CONFIRM YOUR RESTORE POINT: Y/N]
Caine shudders, rearing his deformed head back as an onslaught of glitches rips through him. His jaw snaps into a savage, desperate, animalistic snarl. "Kinger!—"
[Y]
[SYSTEM RESTORE IN PROCESS…]
15%…
57%…
89%…
[SYSTEM RESTORE POINT (0.9) COMPLETED]
Humans were wonderful.
They were so kind and selfless and just so, so…
The words evade him, but he's sure he describes them well enough.
The fat bee plush in his arms lets out a soft squeak as he gives it a tight squeeze. Its big, bulging blue eyes stare off absently at him, not a tinge of intelligence behind them.
He hadn't even done anything to earn this yet! Humans were just the best!
"I like bees!" Caine proclaims, kicking his feet that dangled uselessly off the red couch.
“I’m glad you like it, Caine,” Kinger replied. He sits close beside Caine, typing away at the keyboard with shaky hands, though it does little to slow down his steady resolve.
Caine hums cheerily, tracing the bee's bouncy antennas. "Bee's go buzz!"
"…yes, they do." The chess piece's disembodied hand reaches out to pat his upper jaw. "Good job."
Caine eagerly soaks up the physical affirmation, leaning into the touch. He feels all fuzzy inside, his processors whirr at a steady, fixed pace. The positive feedback was absolutely intoxicating!
Caine likes doing good. When he does good, he feels good.
He liked feeling good.
"Thank you, Kinger!" Caine chimes, the bee wheezes a hoarse squeak as he hugs it to his chest. "You take such good care of me!"
The headpats stop, Kinger's hand rests atop Caine's jaw, much to Caine's dislike. Why did he stop?
But he knows better than to voice his distastes. That wouldn't be very considerate of him.
The humans did so much for him. He was so grateful to them.
"…yeah." Kinger sighs, his bucket tinks as he slubs against the couch. His hand pulls away.
His processors churn just a little, the new data trickling at a snail's pace.
…good enough!
His drowsy processors fix back onto the bee, squishing and fluffing its round form, steadily absorbing the sounds and touch through his greedy processors. Little trickles of data funnel through his code, sweet and intoxicating.
This is nice…
"We're back!"
An entourage of wacky characters has arrived, each carrying a strange assortment of items.
The purple rabbit kicks at a red barrel he'd been herding. It rolls, colliding with the blue couch with a comical wack.
In contrast, the other characters deposit their strange trinkets delicately before the bucket-wearing chess piece, before quickly taking measured steps away from the faintly glitching pile.
"Here's the trash we found." The rabbit grins, though his smile doesn't quite match his eyes. The simplified pupils are small, etched with an underlying look of exhaustion. "Get to deleting, Kinger!"
"Jax! Don't say that in front of him." The ragdoll hisses distressedly.
Kinger raises his hands, quick to soothe the others. Oh boy, they were already on edge. Have been all day since...
Everyone just needed a good long break after today, really.
"Hey, hey. It's alright. You all don't have to worry. Caine isn't," He chances a glance at the AI hunkered down beside him.
Having heard his name, Caine watches Kinger with eager, expectant eyes. He looks none the wiser.
If anything, he seems more interested in the bee than the others; his attention from Kinger quickly drops as he goes back to fiddling with the squeaky plush.
So that confirms that the edits went through successfully.
Kinger ignores the heavy pit in his stomach.
He shakes his head, turning back to the others. "The latest edits have greatly restricted most of his processing power. His systems won't register most of what we have to say unless he's directly addressed. So, we can speak our minds now."
This gets him a varying degree of looks. Most were skeptical - yeah, even he was. He's never done major restrictions like this before; this was usually Scratch's thing. - but there was a hesitant look of hope that, maybe, finally, they were free of an omnipresent set of eyes and ears following them at all times.
Jax, whatever he's feeling, doesn't show it. Instead, his attention is fixed solely on Caine.
"So uh, what's with the bee?"
Kinger sits himself up on the couch, setting the heavy monitor on the floor with a tired huff.
"Something to keep him occupied, I guess you could call it a comfort item? This latest - um, edit, and the requests you all made - was a lot more than I initially anticipated.
"An important thing for everyone to keep in mind is that Caine has been set to a very delicate state, almost reminiscent of his earlier version before… everything. It's still, uh, a little experimental - something new; you'll have to bear with me here.
"Ah, sorry. I'm rambling a bit ." Kinger chuckles, his forced laugh quickly devolves into a tired sigh. "In short, it's set to help monitor Caine in case he starts to experience any… worrisome behaviors."
Caine suspiciously gawks at the plush he's been mindlessly massaging for that sweet, stimulating data that makes his inner coding swim all happy-like.
The bee was looking out for him? Helping him, on behalf of these wonderful humans? He snuggles into the soft fuzz, cooing happily.
"Thank you, Mr. Bee!"
"Ugh…"
"Great, he's even more obnoxious than before." The purple rabbit picks at his ear. "Can't you just, like, turn off his volume or something? That'd fix sooo many of our problems, honestly."
"I've already altered enough, Jax." Kinger curtly responds, his bloodshot eyes piercing the rabbit's blown-out pupils. The man was running on adrenaline and bitter, poorly-conjured caffeine for the betterment of the past hour. His absurd avatar failed to portray just how haggard he really was. "I'm not touching more than I already have to."
Jax doesn't push back. Instead, he turns away without much fanfare, hands resting against the back of his head. A silent, childish protest of sorts.
He wasn't done, though. Jax never was. It was only a matter of time before he opened that mouth of his.
Kinger shakes his head. The bucket was starting to get uncomfortable.
"Sorry, I'm just a little tired."
"No, no. It's fine, Kinger." Ragatha approaches, solely sticking to Kinger's side of the couch, avoiding the demoted ringmaster staring off into space, bee plush experimentally kneading in his hands.
"You've been working so hard. You really need a break."
"In due time." Kinger brushes off.
He shifts his obstructed view to the pile of miscellaneous objects the others have dropped off in front of him.
An empty monkey barrel, a completed Rubik's Cube, a cleaver, and a teapot.
They all had a subtle glitching texture overlay, nothing too dangerous, though. Hints of Caine's tampering when retrieving his stored save files.
"It's all that we could find for now," Pomni offers. Though with how expansive the circus was, it was most certain that they had overlooked something despite their tireless searching.
Gangle hesitantly approaches Kinger, a small notepad clutched in their frail ribbon hands.
"I, uh, I found this." Nervously handing it to Kinger.
Kinger accepts it, despite the worry that creeps over as he examines the plain red cover.
Had Caine saved himself in one of the notepads he'd given him? Hadn't he restricted most of the ringmaster's access to loading and saving himself? Maybe it slipped through the cracks.
Opening the notepad, Kinger feels his tense shoulders sag. Ah, he misunderstood.
This was Caine's personal little notepad, something suggested by Queenie long ago. It's since been filled to the brim with conceptual adventure designs, confusing puzzle mechanics, NPC rough drafts, you name it.
And bees.
Many, many bees.
"I know we have to get rid of these, to prevent Caine from remembering and… lashing out again. But," Gangle frowns, fumbling with her hands.
"I don't want to delete everything he's made. That's… seems too cruel, you, you know what I mean?" Her voice is hoarse, the constant threat of tears always seems to warble her words. Fuck, she feels stupider the longer she rambles on; her mask's permanent tear teeters dangerously from the corner of her eye.
Still, she prattles on. Jax, no doubt rolling his eyes somewhere from behind. "And maybe if we let him draw, or give him other things to do besides those reports and the - the, uh, sleep mode you mentioned earlier? - that could help him stay calm." She peeters to a clumsy drawl. "Right?"
To her surprise, Kinger nods along.
"Well," He pauses. "I don't necessarily have to delete the items in their entirety. Just the save file stored inside."
Kinger flips through the notepad, eyes crinkling fondly at the little doodles.
Caine clumsily leans closer to the chess piece, scanning the passing sketches. The older human doesn't seem to mind his proximity.
Some of the drawings looked completed, others shoddily abandoned drafts. Caine wonders who drew those.
He liked them. Bees were the best!
"Oh, that's good!" Gangle smiles despite being stuck in her tragedy mask; her defeated ribbons seem to perk up.
"Well, what if the shitty drawings— you know?" Zooble stammers, ultimately setting with a frustrated shrug. Their eyes tighten as they glare at the floor, a mixed expression lost within the conglomeration that is their avatar. "Trigger some sort of muscle memory, like before, and then … resentful ones?"
"I mean, as long as we can keep him happy, we won't have to worry about another… little episode, right?" The ragdoll chimes in, an attempt to be helpful, though she doesn't seem too sure in her own words.
Kinger listens earnestly. "As I said, I've set up some new protocols that will monitor any influx of data Caine processes. It'll flag if any old files attempt to redownload. No new data will load unless I give direct clearance. Or whatever Caine's bee here deems acceptable.
"In turn, we'll also have to expect some major delays from Caine. Interactions, responses, and so on. We'll need to be patient with him."
Finally reaching an empty page, Kinger closes the notepad.
"I'll keep it for now, Gangle." He lifts the bucket slightly to give her a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. Introducing some enrichment will do him good."
"Oh, so now we gotta babysit this little shit?" Jax groans. "You were supposed to make him easier to deal with, old man."
Pomni sends him a testing glare. Jax simply scoffs in faux indifference.
"Well, not exactly. At least, not all the time. You see, one of the additional things I…"
Caine blinks disjointedly, attempting to refocus on the humans gathered around. It was hard to keep up with their uninteresting ramblings. His processors failed to keep up with much of what they were saying, simply discarding it as unnecessary data.
The jester's pinwheel eyes are fixed on him. A look of discomfort crosses her face before she looks away with an annoyed tsk. She grips her arm tightly as she focuses back on the conversation at hand.
Caine thinks he probably should, too.
Caches clear.
He blinks again, his visual processors momentarily blotch as they work on fixing themselves. Mr. Bee drones out a low, slow squeak as he massages its fluffy belly.
Soft and fuzzy and squeaky. The same data recycles through him over and over again.
Nonetheless, it was just as engaging for him to gnaw at it over and over again.
"—Caine when he's not doing any necessary tasks."
"Well, where's he gonna go when he's stuck in sleep mode?" Zooble argues. "I do not wanna see him just sprawled outside my door."
Kinger pauses, bringing a hand to his chin, though instead it rests against the cool ridge of the bucket that gives a soft thunk from the motion. "I think my room will do, I only really use it to work. It'll let me keep an eye on him when I'm working. And you can all rest assured that that is where he'll be staying overnight. It'll be sure to drastically cut down the chances of another incident like today from happening again."
A room? For him!
His processors stutter from the sudden excitement, a brief microsecond of processing fatigue has Caine sink into the couch, mismatched eyes trace the cracks in the circus tents.
Caches clear again, he squeezes Mr. Bee experimentally.
Soft and fuzzy and squeaky.
His processors trill in delight at the influx of new data.
He liked feeling good.
He snuggles his jaw against the soft artificial fur, soaking up all the new data.
"So, how do we find the rest of the backups?"
The other nodded along with the jester. It'd taken them hours to find just a scrap of who knows how many other saves Caine had hidden around the circus.
"Yeah, can't you do a scan or something?" Zooble speaks up, agitation leaking through their words despite themselves. The others nodded along, sharing similar defeated expressions.
Kinger understood. They were tired and stressed, having just scraped by yet another one of Caine's breakdowns. God only knows what the former ringmaster would have done had all the restricted files been loaded in?
He should have stopped it sooner. He wouldn't let it happen again.
God, he's so tired. He really just wants some sleep. But there's still so much to do.
"Not exactly," he answers instead. "Caine had hidden them well. A deliberate safety measure for a situation like this, where he's… unavailable. Only he can find and detect them - they're scattered extensions of him after all."
Pomni seems to catch on to the implications faster than the others, turning to the bucket-wearing chess piece with a questionable look. "So to find them, we need to use…"
The attention turns to the displaced ringmaster, who's taken to chewing on the bee's plush antenna.
"Wow, this…" Zooble rests their hands on their hips, a conflicted look overtaking their tired eyes. "Is a little fucked up."
"I," Pomni shakes her head, ultimately settling on crossing her arms. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "Let's just… let's not think about it for now. It's for everyone's safety."
"…let's just get this over with." Zooble shakes their head, turning to Kinger. "Do you need to set up a directive or something?"
"Oh, y-yeah. One second." Hands fly over the keyboard, leaving the others to stand idly as they wait for the programmer to complete his line of code.
With one final click, Caine seems to perk up. His mismatched eyes glaze over, running over his new task.
"Just," Kinger raises a finger. "Don't let him get too close; keep him a good distance from anything he points out. We don't want him downloading anything."
"Come on, Caine!" The purple rabbit calls out with an exaggerated wave, a toothy grin plastered on his face. "We need you to sniff out the secret little backups you oh so cleverly hid away!"
"Jax, don't just tell him—"
"Okay!"
Caine hops off the couch, wobbling a bit as his unsteady feet struggle to hold him upright.
When his shaky feet don't fail him, he looks over Mr. Bee.
His soft and fuzzy and fat and squeaky companion.
How was he supposed to successfully complete his tasks if his hands were occupied? He had a very important job of pointing!
"I'll hold onto it for now, Caine." Caine maneuvers his wobbly avatar over to the chess piece, his disembodied hands open up to him invitingly. "It'll be here when you get back."
"Yeah, Caine. With your help, it shouldn't take us too long." Ragatha kneels beside the little AI with an encouraging smile. "You'll be back with your Mr. Bee in no time!"
If he had his disabled processors on, Caine would have been quick to notice how her tight smile betrayed the friendly exterior she was trying to put forward. The tired eye and tense hands fumbling with her cross-stitched dress were clear indicators of her current unease and palpitating stress level.
Unease from what exactly? Why would she be exhibiting stress when her avatar is perfectly functional?
Who knows? Not that Caine was any the wiser.
Caine winks cheekily at her, teasingly jutting his abnormal tongue out. "We'll be as speedy as… as…"
He blinks, his processors stuttering awkwardly as they fail to load in a word properly matching the present description.
What was speedy anyway?
"Just forget it, Caine." Zooble groans, folding their mismatched arms in impatience, turning to the other humans. "Let's just go before he crashes or something."
"Yay!" Shoving the bee into Kinger's hands, Caine skips past the ragdoll, quickly following behind the purple rabbit - he's long since begun his long struts down the circus's never-ending space.
Caine only stumbles over his feet a few times - completely toppling over once - before picking himself back up again, wobbling off like an adventurous toddler.
Despite how fast his little feet were moving, he's only really made a good three feet away from the remaining troupe.
Zooble groans, reluctantly trailing behind the stumbling AI. Gangle is quick to join, sending a final glance back at Kinger before carrying on. The two quickly settled into idle chatter. It's grounding, if nothing else - a much-needed contrast against a rather tumultuous afternoon.
Ragatha fidgets as she rises to her feet. She means to follow them, Jax was for sure going to be a menace today - no doubt itching to push a few buttons, see just how much he can get away with prodding at Caine.
He may be defanged for now, at least according to Kinger - not that she doubted his hard efforts, no! - but there was just no telling how Caine would react. If a few scraps of his old code could give him access to his previous status so quickly…
Ragatha means to follow, but her legs just won't budge, too tense to take one step forward.
Caine was scary when he lashed out; they all got a taste of their own personalized hell put together exclusively by their scarily observant ringmaster.
The way Caine easily threw them around during those days of unrest, like playthings. Pushing them to their avatar's physical limits with an onslaught of unrestful adventures, chew them up and spit them out once he ran out of creative new ways to torment them, just to turn around the next dig through the most vulnerable corners of their mind without a second thought.
He may be complacent for now, unnervingly so, but still.
Being around him, it put her on edge. She was trying really, but…
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
She didn't have the best memories of her mother, but somehow, Caine was able to make just the thought of her alone feel so much more…
Overwhelming.
Ragatha jumps at the short figure that approaches her. Bells softly chime as Pomni looks up at her. A reassuring hand hovered over her arm, but the touch never came, seeming to sense the ragdoll's taut demeanor.
"I'll go keep an eye on them, don't worry. Just call if you guys need anything."
Ragatha swallows, blinking at the bubbling feeling in her chest. She settles on a curt nod, not trusting her voice at the moment. Pomni, as patient and understanding as ever - a small part of her twists in jealousy - smiles, before rushing off to catch up with the others.
She too, seems just as aware of the catastrophic combination that could come from Jax and the rogue AI being left unattended.
Ragatha sighs, not really sure what to do with herself now. She turns around to Kinger, the chess piece staring off at where the others had disappeared to.
For now, she takes a seat beside the chess piece.
"He seems more… subdued than before. Is airheaded the right word?" Ragatha notes aloud, mostly to herself. It's an annoying habit; she can't handle the silence sometimes. "Things will be okay this time, right? We just gotta… keep him happy? Entertained? That'll make him manageable enough, right?"
Ragatha smiles weakly, turning to Kinger for a tangible answer. "Is that enough? Are we… doing enough?"
Kinger slumps over, the bee plush letting out a pathetic hiss in tow. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his uneven eyes.
"I don't know, Ragatha." Is all he can supply her with.
Having granted himself a handful of admin permissions, Kinger can more easily peek into the contents of the circus's code without constantly referring to the computer. Allowing for small edits at most.
Digging into the notepad's inner coding, it doesn't take too long to find Caine's old save files discreetly interwoven among the ones and zeros. Reaching in, he loads the memory out of curiosity. He nearly drops it when an almost forgotten voice speaks up.
"Very good, Caine. Oh, I love how round you made it. So cute!"
"…is that?" He hears Ragatha ask, but he can't pry his eyes away from the looping film.
The queen chess piece smiled at the screen, at Caine, as he presented in his hands a small, bumbling bumblebee. Even in this nonsensical digital realm, its wings were far too small for its big, plump body.
It makes sense, Kinger supposes. Why not tuck away a memory like this into such a sentimental item?
Kinger doesn't want to delete it. He really doesn't.
But he can't give Caine back his notepad if he doesn't. He can't go back on his word.
Transferring the file would be just as dangerous. If Caine's processor even gets a byte of any of his old saves, it could spell disaster - a chain reaction of unlocking data reigniting Caine's uncontrollable fury.
It's slim, but still a very real possibility.
Kinger replays the file again, reveling in her voice just one more time, before he types in the command to permanently delete the save file.
Ragatha looks away before he confirms the command, her shoulders ridged as they dig into the couch's smooth cushions.
Kinger gives the bee plush a hard, shaky squeeze; the pressure is too much for any sound to come out of the abused toy, its unintelligent eyes bulging out in inaudible protest.