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Battat is hyper-aware of his breathing right now.
This is a bad idea. This is a bad, terrible idea. This is a bad, terrible, no good, very very bad idea.
That’s what’s running through the pippins head as he pulls on his Mike costume. He tells himself how stupidly terrifying this plan is. It’s the safest move, he decided, if Tenna actually catches ‘Mike’ doing this. “Greenie” would probably get his head knocked off if Tenna caught wise to what was going on if he was lucky, while Mike? Well, Mike would have a chance to run. Or make up a lie, or maybe Tenna wouldn’t think twice about him stalking around the studio at three in the fucking morning, long after all the Lightners had gone to bed.
Oh, why does that matter?
Because he's going to kidnap the pipis, that’s why. Tenna’s pipis. This is a pipisnapping.
It hadn’t really started as a pipisnapping. Battat’s been happy to help Tenna care for the pipis with Ramb and the other Mikes — the only others in the studio that know of the weird little blue things existence — but then he started reading. Thumbing at pipis-rearing books while at his non-Mike job in the costume department. Trying to find out ways to help the damn thing hatch, because he knows it would help Tenna maybe feel a little better. Tenna’s been stressed; an absolute nervous wreck since that mailman left all those months ago. He puts on a show in front of the cameras, and for the most part the crew hasn’t noticed any changes in Tenna’s attitude, but to Mike? Oh, Mike knows all about Tenna’s feelings. About how he’s been abandoned. About how he’s scared. About how he wishes his weird little egg would hatch, because they could be a family, a real one, like the Lightners.
That’s when he found out that the way Tenna’s been taking care of the pipis — hiding it, keeping it from everyone but Mike and Ramb — is completely bungled.
Pipis need magic to grow. They need light, and warmth. The loving but shoddy little nest Tenna built in the closet with only the radio perched next to it playing soft jingles and old TV Time ads just isn’t going to be enough for an incubating Addison-pipis. Best case scenario, it hatches but is small and weak; if worst comes to worst, it’ll never hatch at all.
-- Battat pushes away those thoughts. It’s not going to help anyone if he starts feeling guilty about all of this, least of all the pipis.
He steps over Pluey, who’s on Mike duty this evening and watching over the strange little blue egg that Tenna has been so secretive about. The shadow guy-Mike had been curled around the pipis just a little while ago, humming her a lullaby, before putting her back in the cabinet; she’s sleeping soundly, happy little music notes floating in the air with every exhale as Battat’s heart races. He unlocks the cabinet carefully and looks down at the pipis — at Foley — in the nest. He had brought a small bag he'd sewn specifically for transporting purposes; ever so carefully, he plucks her up from her nest, glad that she hadn't seemed to be awoken by the shuffling. In the bag, he adds some of her old nest, purposely ignoring the small, crumpled red suit that sits at the very bottom, golden envelope pin still affixed to its breast. Then, backing up and locking the cabinet again, he speedwalks away, back to the costume department. There, he can grab his things and book it out of TV World for whatever Dark World was closest to TV world. Sure, he’s only ever been to Card Kingdom, and he was brought here by a Lightner years ago, but how hard could finding another dark world be? That stupid mailman did it all the time, it shouldn’t be a Herculean task —
The small pippins only manages to make it as far as the green room before a loud whistle stops him in his tracks.
“Pip.”
It’s Ramb. The power strip is leaning against the door that leads to the costume department, arms crossed. He squints at Battat. The small Mike freezes, almost so still you can't tell that he's breathing. Because let's be honest, if he doesn't control it, he’s going to hyperventilate.
“What’s in the bag, pip.”
He forgot about Ramb. How could he forget about Ramb?
"J–Just—" He stutters, wincing. Battat takes one step back. "Just some nest objects, I wanted to make them. Um. It looked crowded, so I wanted to make it more uniform." He's losing his cool.
“Bullshite.” Ramb’s voice cuts deep. He almost never swears, he — his expression is dark, and angry. He doesn’t move closer, but he’s still blocking the door; Battat probably couldn’t move the power strip if he tried. “Pip,” he repeats, tone warning, “Who is in the bag.”
"Please, Ramb," Battat's voice has dropped down to a whisper. "Just let me through. I–I have to do this."
Ramb's smart. And Battat knows that admitting exactly what he’s doing is faster, better, but he. He can't. He just wants her someplace better.
"Plea—"
Piip! Piip!
The green pippins squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing. The little egg is still quiet, obviously just woken up, but in the tense silence between them it's like she yelled for her leading role.
“Pippins.” Ramb grimaces. His body stiffens up, the claws of his paws visibly pressing against the fur of his arms. He doesn’t move. “I can’t let you go through with what you’re doing. I know, I know you hate seeing this happen, pip, but you can’t just — she’s not your kid, you can’t make this choice”
"You — you can't be serious." Battat shifts the bag back slightly, protective. "I know she's not– she's going to hurt! I've read up on it! this isn't good for her, being locked up and away from other darkners, it doesn't matter if–if it's a choice—
Pl–Please." he sounds so weak, scared.
Alone.
“I don't want to fight you, Ramb."
“You’re not going to fight me.” Ramb says it as if he knows. As if he knows that Battat won’t be able to attack him. Not even because of the pipis safely nestled in his bag — but because of who Ramb is.
Who Ramb is to Battat.
“I know, pip,” he says, arms finally raising, as if to show he means no harm, “but you can’t just take her. Think of what it would do to Tenna if she was gone—”
"Fuck Tenna." He bites out, almost surprised he said it himself. "She s–saw nothing but their fights, and now he has us on rotations when she could be out in the open and safe and know what the hell was going on instead of being locked up–" he bites his tongue, afraid he's getting too loud. The little blue egg in his bag is silent, neither helping nor hurting the pippins cause. Battat is looking around. "I–I can't—" if he can't get his things, so what? He can survive a bit, maybe sneak back in during the chaos of the discovery.
He takes a step back. Ramb takes one forward, silent.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Ramb says, words flat and quiet, without room for argument. The power outlet snaps his fingers, and before he realizes what’s going on, Battat’s SOUL flies from his body, as the two enter a BATTLE.
No. No. No, this is all wrong. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Battat wasn’t supposed to be caught, except for maybe by Tenna, but Tenna would never — Tenna wouldn’t be able to —
The plugboy stands there; stoic, and silent. He doesn’t make a move to start an ATTACK — but instead, he waits for Battat to make the first move.
"D–Don’t, please, Ramb. You kn–know. You know I can't." He whispers, practically shaking in his stupidly oversized Mike boots. Battat is torn in two completely; he needs the pipis to be safe, to grow up without being helicopter'd by a hyper vigilant parent, or hidden away as if something to be ashamed of.
But... He can't hurt Ramb, either. It'd kill him, it really would, if he ever hurt Ramb.
Battat can attempt to flee, maybe, but he knows he'll just get dragged back. He’s trying to stay strong, if only for the egg; to be good. He shakily raises a hand, pulling off the Mike head as he slumps to the ground, Foley cradled in the bag in his arms.
Ramb doesn’t move. He gazes at Battat sympathetically, but he doesn’t call off the FIGHT either.
“I know,” he stresses. “I know. Better than you do, probably, about how bad this might be for her. But what’s your plan out there, pip? How are you going to raise her?” His volume is climbing. Ramb’s voice cracks, like his plastic parts. So easily crumbled. “You’ll destroy Tenna’s heart — and you’ll destroy hers. Think of how scared she’d be, pip. She only knows TV World. How would you hatch her out in the blizzard outside? How would you provide enough magic to help her hatch?”
Battat knows Ramb's logic is completely sound, he's perfectly aware. He's just a little pippins. A green die that doesn't even belong here. He stares at Ramb with big, wide, terrified eyes. Ramb takes a deep, steadying breath.
“Strike me down,” he says. It’s not a request, “if you want to leave, you’ll have to be strong enough to take me out.”
"I'm so scared, Ramb." He whispers. "What if she never hatches? What if she does and we can't provide for her? N–None of us can make internet cookies for her when she hatches. I don’t — I don't want Tenna ruining her life before she can even have one." The pippin tries to brighten his expression, but it only comes across as the truth — as desperation: "Y–You could come with me. You know more than me, we could help her—"
“I’m not doing that, Pip.” He sounds so sad. He’s smiling, but Ramb looks anything but happy. The power strip waits. They haven’t exited the battle yet. He waits for Battat to make a choice. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t force Battat to move, either. “I can’t. You know we can’t. You know we can’t bloody well leave this dark world, we’re physical objects, not something like an e-mail. What was your plan? You’ll turn to stone if you step into the Nowhere Zone! Besides that, the only thing keeping me tethered to this dark world is the bloody job Tenna gave me. Without that purpose, I’ll be stone.” His voice is so sad. So sad. So very, very sad. “I can’t go with you. I can’t help you if you decide to do this. She won’t hatch out there, Pip. Not when you’re taking her from the only Darkners she’s ever known.”
Battat looks down at the bag, moving it just barely so she can see the light. The pipis wiggles, and he shifts the portable nest he'd created just for her, watching her with empty eyes.
The pippins then lifts his head to look up at Ramb, face blank. It's not a face anyone has seen him make — Battat is anything but emotionless; he's always making faces, angry or annoyed or overjoyed or excited. He's full of emotions.
But his face is blank as he raises a hand. He doesn't need emotions if he strikes down the one other being he's ever really confided in, cared for so deeply through all he's been through. Jongler and Pluey, he trusts them, he wouldn’t have let them be Mike if he didn’t, but Ramb -- Ramb has always been different. Ramb doesn’t even brace himself. He waits, chin tilting up, for the blow. The smile on his face is as infuriating and beloved as it always is. It’s never faded. Not even now, when he’s staring his death in the face.
Battat needs to not have emotions for this.
Battat rolls a four, and the ATTACK hits Ramb dead on. 40 points evaporate from the power outlet’s HP. Ramb doesn’t so much as flinch as the dice bullet pattern hits him square in the chest.
55 HP remaining.
Ramb pulls out a hand. A ball of electricity gathers in his palm, and he throws it wildly away from Battat — almost comically off course.
MISS
Battat’s inner voice is screaming. What are you doing?! It yells. Are you seriously going to destroy EVERYthing you've ever had?!
"Fight back, please." He whispers, well aware that it wouldn't matter if Ramb heard it or didn't. He raises another ATTACK, and rolls a two. Ramb doesn’t flinch. He holds himself steady, even as 15 more HP are whittled down.
30 HP remaining.
Battat laughs. It’s the saddest sound he's ever made, he thinks, as the bullets disintegrate against Ramb’s body. The power outlet grunts, knees buckling, but he doesn’t so much as budge. Ramb doesn’t waver. He stands there, overalls torn now. Most darkners run away when their HP gets low, but not Ramb. Ramb doesn’t know how to run away, evidently. Gasping for breath, he keeps his eyes trained on Battat. The green pippins hands tremble. He shakes his head so hard that his die threatens to pop off his body.
“I can't. I can't do this. Please don’t make me do this, Ramb! Do something!”
Another die thrown. He rolls another TWO.
15 HP REMAINING
“I can’t attack you, pip,” Ramb replies plainly. “You know I won’t. Especially not with that precious cargo you’ve got. I don’t want to hurt either of you.” His eyebags are so heavy. Ramb sways, but stays standing. “If you really want to rip Foley away from us, you’re going to have to do this.”
Battat chokes on a sob. He can't say anything, but then the little bag wiggles again. Her piip! piip! Is so full of life, and Battat
Breaks.
"I can't do this to her." He hiccups, voice warbly with his attempts to not sob any louder. any more. Battat lifts her, just slightly, in Ramb's direction. He doesn't want to drop her but he also knows he's not safe to be with right now.
Ramb finally takes a step forward.
RAMB is sparing you
>FIGHT
>MERCY
Gently, the power outlet drops to one knee, taking the pipis. She chirps, excited to feel the familiar magic, and Ramb laughs. Wipes at his dark eyes, fingers coming back wet. He reaches to take Mike’s helmet, placing it back where it belongs on Battat’s head.
“Knew you’d make the right choice, pip,” he says warmly. “Knew you’d—”
“What are you DOING?”
Ramb looks up, the battle scene vanishing, and standing there is —
Tenna.
Tenna, looking at the blue egg in Ramb’s hands. His screen has gone dark, his fists clenched. He looks between Ramb and Mike, normal emotional expressions all but vanished.
“What are you doing with h—”
“It was me,” Ramb says quickly, cutting Tenna off. “Thought she’d be due for some air. Mike tried to stop me.”
Battat’s expression morphs to horror underneath the mask. What is he doing? Doesn't he know Tenna could seriously hurt him over this? Tenna could—
“You WHAT?!”
Tenna makes a lunge at Ramb, almost completely ignoring Mike. The plugboy doesn’t so much as try to dodge as Tenna’s fingers wrap around him and lift him up. The boss Darkner squeezes him, and Ramb holds out the pipis. In a lucid moment, Tenna carefully takes the egg from him with his other hand and tucks it in his pocket, before his screen goes red in anger.
“How COULD YOU?! I TOLD YOU that we have to keep her safe!” he yells. Ramb doesn’t react. He doesn’t so much as wince.
“Sorry, bossman, she wouldn’t stop chirpin’…”
“Why were you even with her in the first place?! It wasn’t your turn to have her! Mike does overnights, you know that!”
Ramb keeps the smile pasted on, even as the fist Tenna has him wrapped in trembles out of Tenna’s control. The power outlet looks to Battat, eyes gentle and soft.
“Yeah. Suppose I do know that.”
Battat wants to be the one strangling Ramb, right now. How could he just take the fall? How co– no. This isn’t the time for that! He was Motormouth Mike, wasn't he?! He can — he can fix this. He can always fix things. Battat pushes himself up to stand, despite the way his body screams at him, and waves his gloved hands wildly around.
"Boss, she might overhear if we yell too much! It's late, I fell asleep while with her. Ramb thought he was doing somethin' nice, we both dropped the ball." He speaks quickly and without stuttering, barely aware of what he’s saying. "Maybe she wanted you! She could tell you were missing her? They say kids have a second sense for their parents, that must be it! I know that she's unhatched but she's loud just like her Daddy; wants the whole of TV World to hear her! Let's,” he feels his body starting to tremble with the force that he’s speaking with, “why don’t we calm down and get her safe before we get into any heated adult-only business?”
Tenna’s glare shoots through Mike.
“You fell asleep with her,” he says, tone low and dangerous. “this is partly your fault. I think you should remember that before you start talking.”
“Easy on him, Tenna, I — ugh.”
Battat watches, terrified, as Ramb’s HP decreases by ten points. Tenna is shaking so badly that he must have squeezed Ramb without meaning to. The CRT’s screen flickers in shock — and possibly terror — before twisting back to look at Mike.
“You’re lucky it was only Ramb, Mike,” Tenna warns. “I’m putting her in my dressing room for the night and then,” he looks back at Ramb again. Battat’s hands go up as Ramb's HP crumbles and he tries not to panic. The outlet is on seriously low HP. “I’ll discuss what punishment Ramb deserves with him. You’re relieved of your duties for the night, Mike.”
"Y–Yeah, of course, whatever you say Tenna."
Battat couldn't think fast enough, it seems. Ramb grimaces, trying to smile down on Battat, but Tenna’s anxious, terrified claws digging into his skin make it hard for anything to not look pained right now. Tenna looks back at Mike, and it’s only then that Battat can see the tears streaking down his screen.
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” he says — to Ramb, not Mike, though it’s hard for Battat’s brain to separate the two of them— “I trusted you with her, but you took her out of the bonus room! There’s so much here that could hurt her, you KNOW that!”
“I — ugh — I know, Tenna. I’m sorry.”
With that, Tenna turns, and storms down the hallway to his office, leaving Battat alone. The silence that follows is deafening. The blood in Battat’s face rushes, and he yanks his helmet off, holding it in trembling hands.
With a strangled sob, Battat launches the microphone helmet at the door to the costume department. The thud it makes isn’t satisfying at all, so with another cry, Battat grabs it and throws it again, before breaking down into hysterical tears.
He’s not stupid. He knows how deep a friendship Ramb and Tenna have – Tenna trusts him, cares about him, asks him for advice. Ramb’s known Tenna longer than that guy ever did, and now – now Tenna thinks that Ramb betrayed his trust. That he took the pipis out of hiding, which was the one rule Tenna had for them. Keep the pipis safe. Keep it away from everyone else.
Battat knows that Tenna is hard with forgiveness. And with the way Ramb always throws himself under the bus – he knows the chance of them repairing their relationship has a snowball’s chance on the cooking segment – and – and the worst part –
This was all his fault.