Chapter Thirteen
~ T: 202X ~
Tenna wakes up suddenly in his room in Castle Town, the sound of his internals degaussing echoing through the air. It’s a nice little place, even if it’s temporary; he has to admit, Ralsei knows how to decorate. He stretches, wincing at the ache in his arms, and decides that maybe it’s time to take a walk.
The Spade Prince (Lancer? Lancer sounds right) is rolling around in the dirt outside and offers him a friendly wave. Tenna waves back, forcing a bright smile as he passes. It seems like it’s pretty late at night, given how everyone seems to be out and about. Darkners are always most active when the lights go out, after all. He takes in the buzz of activity, the music echoing from the cafe as he passes. Music that grows almost deafening as the back door slams open, and something comes flying out. “Do not disgrace us with your presence again,” a Swatchling says sternly.
Tenna stops to watch as a small figure climbs up to their feet, seemingly having been tossed out. “CAN'T A [[Big Shot]] GET A DECENT [A Free Meal] AN YMORE???” they screech, turning on their heel to glower at the Swatchling. “TALK ABO4T TERRIBLE SERVICE!“ The door slams in their face, and they turn around, re-adjusting their coat, and freezing at the sight of Tenna standing just feet away. Oh god, it’s the weird creature from TV World, the one that dared try to approach the pipis.
…But something that they said lingers in Tenna’s mind, poking at something familiar. ‘Big shot’? Before he can say anything, though, the figure darts away down the alley. “Hey!” he calls after them, giving chase. For their size, they’re fast, but not fast enough for Tenna to lose them entirely. He sees their legs scrambling into a dumpster behind the bakery, the lid slamming shut decisively behind them. Tenna quietly approaches, looking around to see if anyone’s watching before he knocks on the lid. “Excuse me. I’m sorry if I startled you, but…”
“COME TO [Drowning] ME IN [insulating foam]?” A voice says from inside the dumpster, tinny and muffled.
Tenna grimaces. “Okay, to be fair, you came out of nowhere and I was in a very vulnerable state. I couldn’t risk you hurting her.”
“HER?”
“It’s… a long story.”
The lid opens a crack. Two-toned lenses flash in the dim light. “IT’S [Invasive Freshwater Clams], [[CRT]]. NOT A SHE.”
Tenna freezes. That sound bite... “What did you just call me?” The figure in the dumpster doesn’t respond. Instead, it disappears back inside, the lid snapping on Tenna’s fingers before he can pull back. “Ah! Hey!” Tenna shakes his hand out and puffs up his chest. “Listen here, you. Only one person ever called me ‘CRT’, and that same person also happened to use very similar vernacular to you. So who are you, big shot?”
The dumpster remains silent. Finally, it opens a crack again, and those lenses stare right at him. “…LEAVE ME ALONE, [[Ant-Sized]]—[[Ant–Sized]]—[[Ant-Sized]]—[$!X$]!!!“ The dumpster lid slams shut again, and Tenna hears several dull thunks.
“Ant?” Tenna asks. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“…Ant.” And that voice, he recognizes, thoroughly confirming his suspicions. “LEAVE.”
Tenna pulls back, but there’s an ugly feeling rising in his chest. Indignant rage that he can’t keep from creeping into his voice. “No. Not until you tell me why you left me! Where have you been? What the hell happened to you?”
The dumpster lid slams open, and the figure rises from the trash. And now that he’s really looking, he can see it. The loose waves of black hair, barely kept in check with gel; the cracks from his mouth to his jaw; the black eyes that stare at him from behind those lenses. God, this is really him, isn’t it? “I DIDN’T. Want. To. Llll—[Short Term Leases Available]—LEAVE.”
Tenna swallows hard. “But you did.”
The alley is silent for a long moment before the figure… Spamton sinks back down into the dumpster, resting his chin on the edge of the container. “…I’M [Sinciriest Apologies!].”
Tenna can’t take it anymore. He reaches forward, grabbing Spamton under the arms and hauling him out of the dumpster. Spamton dangles there, eyes wide as he tries to squirm out of the TV host’s grasp, but is unable to break free before Tenna punches him down the alleyway. Spamton hits the ground hard, rolling a good foot away before stopping. He pushes himself up to his hands and knees with a cough as Tenna storms towards him, reaching out again.
Except this time, he falls to his knees and pulls Spamton to his chest in a crushing hug. “Damn you,” he curses, unable to stop the static that starts dripping from his screen.
~ S: 202X ~
Spamton stares blankly at the wall, wrapped in a clean, warm towel. Tenna refused to let him on any of the furniture until he was cleaned up, so now his hair flops uselessly in his face. It’s down to his shoulders now. “So you’ve been helping Kris?” Tenna asks, sipping his acid as he sits beside him. He’d gone into the cafe to buy a bottle since the Swatchlings won’t let Spamton in.
“THEY TRIED TO GIFT ME [Freedom].” He drums his fingers against his wine glass. “IT WAS [The] LEAST I COULD DO.”
Tenna hums, letting silence drag on between them. “…What happened? Why did they kick you out of the cafe? I thought you were the most famous person in Cyber City.”
Spamton’s head glitches, and he automatically says, “[[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]].” He hisses and shakes his head, pressing his hand over his eyes. “...MY SALES WENT DOWN [The] [[Drain]] [[Drain]]. I’M JUST A [Joe] NOW. A [Schmoe].”
Tenna mulls that over for a moment. “…Your voice… can you not control that?” Spamton shakes his head. “You… weren’t nearly this bad back then. I thought it was strange, but I figured it was just a quirk of yours.”
“IT WAS A [Terms and Conditions] TO MY [Deal]. I DIDNT HAVE TO [Think before you], I COULD JUST [sell sell sell!].“ Spamton takes a drink, the burn bringing back a flash of a painful memory. He hasn’t touched battery acid since his fall from grace; being completely submerged in it kind of took the novelty out of it. "NOW [L@@K] [where] IT GOT ME."
Tenna sighs and sets his wine glass down. “I’m… I told myself that you’d just used me. That it was just a business opportunity, that… none of it meant anything to you.”
“IT MEANT [3 Easy Payments of $9.99!]—[Heaven] DAMN IT.“ Spamton smacks himself in the head with a snarl. ”IT MEANT. EV3RY THING. TO ME. I MEANT EVERY [Words].“
Suddenly, hands wrap around him, and he’s pulled into Tenna’s chest again. Battery acid spills from his glass, sizzling on the rug. “I’m still upset with you,” Tenna says, his voice quaking with emotion. “But… I’m glad you’re back. Does that make sense?”
“NO THING MAKES SENSE.” Spamton leans into the hug, closing his eyes. It’s been so long since he’s been clean. Safe. Maybe even wanted. “Y OU JUST [Are we rolling?] WITH IT.”
Tenna eventually lets him go with a sniffle, wiping away the static dripping from his screen. “Sorry to get sappy, Spammy. It’s been… a rough few years.”
Spamton sets his glass down. “…THEYLL NEED ME AGAIN. THE LIGHT neR<S.”
Tenna nods. “And they’re trying to find me a new home.”
They both fall silent again. Eventually, Spamton says, “EVERYONE GETS [Spam] EMAILS. ILL BE [360 degrees]. SO… DO YOU THINK…” He clears his throat and focuses as hard as he can. “WE Can try again?” Tenna’s screen goes blank, so Spamton hurriedly adds, “As… AS [Friend(s)]?”
Tenna is quiet for a long moment, his screen dark as he lowers his head. “…I’d like that.” Tenna reaches for his wine glass again, a smile reappearing on his screen as he adds, “But only if you finally tell me what the hell an email is.”
Spamton smiles genuinely for the first time in what feels like forever. “[Deal]."
~ 202X ~
It’s not as easy as it sounds. There’s a lot to unpack between the two of them, and it all comes trickling out at the worst times. The next morning, Tenna’s irritable enough to pick a fight, growing big enough to nearly bring the roof down as he screams about how abandoned he’s felt. “You leaving was one thing,” he wails, static clinging to the carpet. “I could tell myself that you just used me. But they left, too! You know how much I wanted them to keep looking at me!”
Spamton doesn’t fare much better. “I TOLD MYS3LF THAT IT WAS [Coming Straight From Your]Y OUR FAULT,” he shoots back, face glitching and pulling apart into dead pixels. “SIGNING THAT [Deal] GOT ME HERE. I WANTED TO SHARE EV3RY THING WITH Y OU AND IT LEFT ME WITH NO THING!”
That makes Tenna pause. “…Everything?”
Spamton’s jaw snaps shut. “…EVERything.” He lowers his head, his anger subsiding as quickly as it rose. “I… IT'S HARD BEING [Big]. I THOUGHT…” Spamton squeezes his eyes shut. Concentrates. It takes everything in him to force the words out uninterrupted. “I… thought… you could understand. The others… left. When I started selling [M@RE] than them.” The intrusion makes him wince, but hell, that’s the most coherent he’s been since Kris beat some sense into him, and he's probably gotten his point across. “YoU LIKED ME NO MATTER WHAT I DID. I COULD STOP PRETENDING SO MUCH.”
Tenna’s screen goes blank as he listens, slowly shrinking to sit on the couch. “…Pretending?”
“EAHAHA! PRETENDING [[Likes]] I [Knew] WHAT I WAS DOING!” Spamton rests his head against the couch cushions, shoulders slumping in defeat. “[Soy un perdedor], [[CRT]]! BEFORE I MADE THAT [Call Now!] I COULDN'T SELL [Water] TO A GOLD[phish]!”
Tenna mulls that over for a moment. “I find that hard to believe. I always thought you were charming, even without the, uh…”
“ADS.” When Tenna tilts his head, Spamton clarifies, “I CALL THEM ADS.”
“Oh. Yes. The ‘ads’.” They fall silent again before Tenna adds, somewhat softly, “If that was what you showed me, then I have to say that I liked who you were when you weren’t ‘pretending’.” Spamton sucks in a breath but says nothing. Tenna looks down at his hands and laughs quietly. “Maybe the others would, too.”
“THAT'S A [Tall] ORDER, [Cathode].”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t try.” Tenna sighs and stands up, heading to the kitchenette. Once he’s there, he pours himself some water... then sets the glass aside and leans on the counter. “Tell me you mean it.” Spamton pauses, tilting his head a little. In the silence, Tenna looks over his shoulder, his screen black. “That this isn’t goodbye forever. That you’ll be around.”
Spamton lowers his eyes. [Heaven], he wants to make that promise so badly. “…TELL YOUR [New!!!!] OWNER TO TURN OFF THEIR [Spam] FILTER. AND ILL TRY. IN [The] MEANTIME, I'M HERE [Right now!]. SO LET'S MAKE [The] MOST OF IT, HUH???”
Tenna finally turns around, his smile reappearing on his screen. “Okay… partner.” Spamton smiles back. And, staring from across the room, they settle into a mutual feeling. That, for just right now, this is okay.