Chapter Text
It was excruciating, replaying it over and over again in his mind. Seeing the Lord of Screens felled in a single, dirty blow.
Even if he knew it was coming.
Even if for years he simply pretended it wouldn’t happen.
Seeing Tenna crumple and tumble into the inky darkness made Spamton’s heart shriek with agony. As though what was cleaved was his very soul, if he even had one.
The Lightners had already taken chase ahead, facing off against that nightmare. In the fray, Spamton couldn’t keep himself from leaping away from Kris’ pocket, and hurrying down into the depths. He knew that there was no chance his small, doll-like body could do much more than be there next to Tenna, but if there was even a chance he could do something…
In his haste, a rock hidden under a dense burl of snow had caught on his boot, sending him, too, tumbling down. The puppet fell, unable to tell in the immense darkness how fast he was falling, or how close the basin of this trench was from him.
Still determined to make it to Tenna, to do anything to try and make his most painful mistakes finally be righted, Spamton squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe… Maybe he could still access that body, anchor himself to that form for just a moment. If he just concentrated and focused hard enough, maybe his will alone would summon it into existence.
Colors danced in his vision when he snapped open his eyes, startled by a deafening cacophony of electricity crackling around him. Gradually, the wind began to nip at his face, his hands, and ripple through the harsh edges of metallic wings as they flung open. The silence drowned out the sound as quickly as it had come, leaving him slowly gliding down and better able to make out the ground as he approached it.
Spamton’s boots crinkled the snow with a hollow crunch when he landed, his knees tilting without confidence as he adjusted to the form. Without the wires to support him, it was much more difficult to operate such a lanky body. A part of him wondered what Tenna would think of it, seeing HIM in the NEO body instead of…
The awe of his accomplishment was abruptly overshadowed by a twisting in his stomach. While scanning the thick snow mounds, only broken up by heaps of old junk jutting out like crooked teeth, a part of the horizon seized his heart and rammed it painfully up into his throat. His eyes tethered to a snowy crater, still haloed by fine debris and snow that was drifting back down from the impact.
Spamton took a wobbled step, then another. Craning his much longer than before neck, his eyes widened in horror as a fleck of electricity sparked from the socket of a shoulder. He could feel the fluffy hair, now trailing from his scalp to under his jaw, become rigidly puffed.
“[No]… [Oh no, no no no].”
Abandoning any and all caution with regards to his unsteady gait, Spamton scrambled to reach the crater. His leg buckled from a misstep, sending him into a stumble that nearly connected his face to the ground, were it not for his hands catching him and propelling him into an awkward scurry.
Practically leaping over the edge of the large divot, Spamton knelt in the frigid, dense powder, and became frozen in place witnessing Tenna slumped against the lip of the crater. Severed arms not immediately to be seen anywhere. A crackling spark dancing out of a bundle of exposed wiring thawed Spamton enough to be able to shuffle closer, scanning up and down the TV’s body.
“[Cathode]..? [[BoobTube]]! [[Wake up to the fresh smell of-]]!” Spamton muttered, his voice felt raw and frayed, as he remembered it being the last time he had been in the NEO body. Was it far too divorced from the voice Tenna would have recognized?
A flicker glowed for a moment, and that familiar whine whizzed into the air. Only to go silent again. Spamton looked up from where he was staring at the shredded socket of Tenna’s arm, momentarily catching the light of his screen fading. The crack in the glass remained pitch black, the light fighting its way around the gash.
“Are you [I Still Feel Alive]?! [Cathode]! Can you hear me? [10/10]!! TENNA!” Spamton wailed, his crooked claws cradling around the bottom edges of Tenna’s screen. He tilted the TV’s head to one side, then the other, as though Spamton would glean another sign by simply letting it roll to the surface. His hands were as large as the width of Tenna’s screen, and holding him made Spamton realize just how much larger the NEO body was.
A dark, hoarse laugh scraped out from Spamton’s throat, without him even meaning to. Of course! Of course, once again, Spamton G. Spamton would wait until the very last second to do something that wasn’t to save his own miserable skin.
Of course.
The laughter curdled into a quiet sob, followed by siblings to the sound. Tears gathered on the rim of his glasses. The dribbling drops began warping the minute light that was available here, so deep beneath the surface.
A long, painful quiet passed before Spamton could collect himself, using the palm of his hand to rub his eyes and smooth back his hair from where it had flopped into his face. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself as best he could, then looked to Tenna again with resolve.
He had to find his arms, before trying to do anything else. They had to be around nearby somewhere, right?
Standing up again, steadying himself with a wobble of his wings, Spamton took a meticulous look around. The cherry red fabric of Tenna’s coat sleeve stood out just enough in the dark, giving away an arm curled in the snow several paces away. The other sleeve, just a few steps the other way, leaning against an uncovered mound of garbage. Like a knock-kneed spider, he hurried to collect the arms, and brought them back to drape over Tenna’s lap.
“[[What I got]] you, alright? Just… Just [[Hold on To That Feeling]].” He weakly consoled, hoping that Tenna could hear him. Crouching down, Spamton hooked one arm under Tenna’s knees, and the other under his torso. Gripping firmly, he used his wings to help him lift Tenna’s body from the ground, hefting him so that his head would rest on the collar piece of the strange armor.
Nearly stumbling backwards from the shift in balance, Spamton caught himself with a back step and sighed a shuddering breath of relief. His gaze drifted down to Tenna, grimacing when another small flash popped and illuminated within his screen. From this angle, the light made seeing into his mechanics possible for just a moment. Spamton felt his stomach roll, and he groaned behind his teeth. If there was anything to be done, anything to help, the Lightners and the rest of Tenna’s staff would be his best bet. Not like he’d be allowed anywhere near him once they got back up there, anyways.
Wide, angular wings splayed wide, arching in preparation to launch. They were unnervingly strange, straddling between flesh and steel. Between feathery and artificial. With a mighty thrust of the bizarre appendages, Spamton pushed off into the air. Each flap of his wings felt maddeningly slow, but the thick gusts of wind rushing under them confirmed they were climbing rapidly.
“[[God, Please]], just [[Hold It!]]!” Spamton prayed in a whisper, more to himself and how his hands shook while clinging to the cleaved star. “You’re gonna be [Okay!], I [Promise].”
The last promise he had made to Tenna, he couldn’t keep. This one… This one for sure had to be kept, if it was the last thing he ever did. He’d even abandon his new friends for a time, if it meant he could help in some way.
“Don’t [[Worried about the future?]], I gotchya’ [[CATHODE]]. Just [[Hang In There.jpg]].”
The biting cold scraped its needled teeth across his face, the sensation still new from years without the ability to feel at all. Spamton couldn’t even recall if he had noticed the sensation of touch when he had been uploaded to the NEO body previously. There were other things on his mind at the time. Complicated things.
With each heave of his wide, thin wings, Spamton watched as the higher levels of the snowy abyss slowly wandered closer. Checking on the host in his hands, Spamton’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.
“...[Please].”
Keeping focused on each powerful beat of his wings, he failed to notice the spine chilling tone that was quietly starting to escape Tenna’s speakers. Spamton felt his balance jerk to the side, and looking down nearly sent him into a panic.
Tenna’s legs had seized, springing them straight out. The jolt yanked an arch into the host’s back, followed by a clap of lighting exploding from his screen and shoulder sockets. His speakers screamed with ear-numbing garbled noise, and the strange clashing squelch of tone made it almost seem like words were fighting through the racket.
Spamton tried to readjust his grip, but before he could, Tenna began to wildly kick and thrash, the blaring from his speakers somehow becoming even louder.
“[[STOP! DON’T TOUCH!]] It’s alright! You’re [Safety First!] I don’t want to [Drag and Drop] you!” Spamton warned, struggling to retain his hold on Tenna, while juggling preventing his severed arms from falling back down. He could feel his claws sliding and slipping, unable to dig into the jacket firmly enough to keep anchored each time he twisted about.
Tenna continued to squirm violently, somehow managing to get his leg up enough to slam the heel of his boot into the bottom of Spamton’s jaw in a freight train kick. The surprise impact sent Spamton reeling backwards, caught in a tailspin that sent them both flying back down into the bitter cold snowdrifts.
Then the world became covered in darkness.
Art by @fishysituation.bsky.social
