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Spamton G. Spamton was about to make a very bad business decision.
If he was being honest, he... wasn't unexperienced with that. He'd made his fair share of mistakes - he'd made what he considered to be a pretty normal number of mistakes over the years. People made mistakes. It was fine. No point getting weird about it.
This, though, this wasn't a blunder. This was him carefully considering his course of action, deducing that it was a completely stupid idea that would only make things worse for himself, and knowing that he was going to do it anyway. Spamton had been stalling for a while now, sitting on a wall in the harsh, flickering shadows cast by the digital fireworks, staring out at the mansion, and he hadn't even been able to convince himself to turn away. There was no way this was going to end with him giving up and heading back to the shop, even though that was obviously the right choice.
A few hours ago, this had been a promising day. A brand-new Dark Fountain in this very computer room! Three Lightners (later upped to five, maybe six?) loose in the city, playing cat-and-mouse with Queen and her minions! A potential once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any temporarily indisposed big shot looking for a first-class ticket to heaven - place yourself in the right alley at the right time, and you could make a sales pitch directly to a higher power.
All of that had gone out the window faster than a captured puppet as soon as Spamton, who had been picking all of this up from eavesdropping on random conversations around the mansion, had actually gone to find out who these people were, and discovered that, as per usual, the universe was against him.
Most of Queen's focus was on Noelle, and whatever potential she'd seen in the kid that made her think she'd make the perfect Lightner minion. She probably wasn't in much danger - Queen might be pushy, and pretty callous a lot of the time, but she clearly didn't intend to hurt her - but that didn't mean her Cyber City experience wasn't going to suck. From what Spamton had seen, she definitely wasn't having a good time.
Which was... bad. It was bad, and that was a problem in and of itself, that Spamton could think that without putting the words "for business" after it. Noelle was his Number Two Customer, that was the whole reason he knew about her, and, yes, the world domination ambitions Queen had apparently been keeping in her back pocket steamrolling Spamton's Number Two Customer would probably be bad for business. But that was all... secondary.
Spamton felt bad for her. He couldn't remember ever feeling bad for people before.
Still, he didn't have to do anything about it. Noelle had been captured, and the tower she was currently stuck in was a part of the mansion Spamton had never been to, with the kind of security that could make being defenestrated look like a beach vacation. No reward for brand loyalty could help with that. The only thing Spamton could do was wish her the best and get on with his day, so he may as well just forget about the whole thing. It sucked, but it wasn't his problem.
His problem was his Number One Customer.
Spamton should never have encouraged Ant to learn about computers. Maybe then, he wouldn't have been in the computer room with those kids when the Knight showed up. But he had been there, and because this was Ant Tenna lost in a strange, hostile alternate dimension with a pair of teenagers, he'd apparently decided he was in charge, and it was his responsibility to take care of them.
Credit where it was due, on any other day, Ant would probably make a good babysitter. He'd clearly put in the effort to try and keep the kids out of danger, even when he had no idea what he was doing and looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Spamton might have respected that if he'd accomplished anything except mildly annoying Queen, but all his posturing about how she should leave these kids alone had only earned him a laser cage and a one-way ticket to a locked room in her mansion.
Specifically, the residential wing of her mansion. The part where Spamton had lived, years ago, before the whole flying-too-close-to-the-sun thing. Somewhere Spamton was very familiar with. Spamton, who, despite the asphalt-scuffed plastic and conspicuous lack of Neo, was probably the Dark World's leading expert in sneaking into that mansion. Spamton, who had a keygen program in his pocket that was meant for the lock on the basement, but would definitely work on the lower-quality encryption of one of those doors.
Spamton, who could do something about this.
Who really shouldn't. He would still be taking a massive risk. "Potentially easier to break into than the basement" didn't mean "easy", and there were a hundred things that could go wrong. Security didn't look boosted, but Spamton knew better than to assume the hypothetical break-in would go like he expected.
And even if he succeeded, managed to sneak in and out in one piece with about four or five tagalongs (because he couldn't free Ant and leave everyone else there), what was he going to get out of it? Did he think this would be mutually beneficial? What was he going to do, try and make them pay him for an Official Spamton G. Spamton Rescue Mission? Convince them to take a detour on escaping their prisons to help him break into the basement? Ask the kids to start responding to their spam emails? He should know better than that. His chance to be a big shot had come and gone. Did he seriously think he could do anything to convince the Lightners to care about him?
Even Ant only cared about him because he didn't understand what Spamton was. He didn't know that he'd been Spamton's mark before he'd been his friend. They weren't even friends, really. Spamton couldn't ever be anything more than Ant's mysterious penpal, because Ant Tenna was a Lightner and a classic TV star and even more handsome in person, and Spamton G. Spamton was very obviously a creepy little insane puppet thing that lived in a garbage can.
There was no connection between them that wasn't based on Spamton lying about himself. Even admitting something like I worry about you sometimes or I care about you more than I thought I could care about people or I don't think I was ever really happy before I met you would be tipping his hand too far. He would never be as important to Ant as Ant was to him. None of his feelings would ever be mutual.
But none of that mattered, because Ant needed help, and Spamton's chest wasn't going to stop hurting until he did something about it.
Ant Tenna was having a difficult day.
To review; he was trapped in a sci-fi energy cage that was about two sizes too small for him, in a locked room full of CRT televisions and old TV Time posters. Said room was supposed to be "Perfectly Suited To Your Interests", as determined by the supervillainess who was trying to kidnap Noelle and force her to help with some kind of plot to take over the world. Also, she was a robot, and they were all... inside a computer, somehow, like in a cartoon, which was a lot scarier in real life, particularly when you were being hunted by cyber-monsters and there was no way out in sight. He'd just gone to the library to check his emails, and now he was curled up on the cage floor trying to stop the bars from setting fire to his hair, and maybe having a tiny bit of a panic attack about the whole thing.
More than anything else, it was the helplessness that was getting to him. When he'd realised that this wasn't a dream, it was really happening, and Noelle and Berdly were here as well, and Kris and Susie and a boy he didn't recognise had wandered in after them, Ant had tried to protect them. He'd tried to keep the group together, and put himself between them and the dangers here, checking the paths and distracting the hunters, fighting back as well as he could with the strange magic powers he had in this world. Maybe he'd taken a few bruises for them, but in the end, he hadn't managed to keep any of them safe.
Being transported here seemed to have changed all their appearances slightly. Ant had found himself tinted slightly purple, wearing a suit with a fancy red tailcoat in place of his sweater, and a new pair of glasses which were much more reflective, practically opaque from the outside. The new suit was admittedly stylish - a lot like the one he used to wear on TV, just a little flashier - but it was the glasses he was most grateful for. If anyone walked in here, they wouldn't be able to see the red rims around his eyes.
Somewhere above him, there was a faint clunk. Ant didn't pay attention to it at first - the mansion he was imprisoned in was pretty noisy, and there were a lot of weird sounds floating around - but it was followed by a second, and a third, each one louder than the last. Ant lifted his head and tilted it to one side owlishly. It was getting closer.
He tracked the noises until they sounded like they were directly above the room. There was a pause for about a minute, and then some vague shuffling, followed by a series of metallic scraping sounds. It sounded like something was being slowly dragged-
"ACK"
Out of the corner of his eye, Ant saw a black and white blur fall from the ceiling directly into a pile of VHS tapes. He turned just in time to watch a square metal grate fall out of an open vent and pulverise a few old TV Time episodes, narrowly missing the small figure stumbling out of the mess, hopping to extract a foot from where it was caught between two cases.
"Um. Hello?" Ant ventured. "Are you okay?"
The person froze, then whipped around to face him, adjusting a crooked pair of pink and yellow tinted glasses with one hand and attempting to smooth down a crumpled black pompadour with the other. "H HAEHA FINE!! DDON;T WORRY ABOUT [[Number 1 Rated Salesman ]]!! ! A [Terminal velocity] LIKE THAT IS [[No money down!]] FOR A [[BIG SHOT]] LIKE ME!!!"
Ant took a moment to decipher that. This person's voice sounded like someone trying to speak over a roomful of people scrambling to interrupt him, and there was a strange kind of distortion to it, sort of like a poor-quality broadcast and sort of like he could hear typographical errors.
He looked a bit like a plastic doll, or a marionette, and his smart black and white outfit was dotted with stains and smudges - probably related to the dusty vent he'd come out of. His face was like a mask, frozen in a wide, slightly unnerving grin, and it seemed like the only parts of it that moved were his blocky lower jaw and the dark eyes behind his colourful glasses, which tried to return Ant's gaze but flickered around more erratically the longer he looked.
He seemed... familiar, somehow.
Ant realised he was staring. "Oh! Good!" he said quickly. "I'm glad you're okay, um, Mister...?"
"MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!" He quickly tugged his long, pointy nose to one side, fixing a dent presumably put there by the floor, and straightened up, puffing out his chest confidently. "JUST A GOOD S[am]AR1TAN! HERE TO HELP A [[Gameshow Host]] IN NE3D!"
Despite everything, Ant laughed. "Well! Thank you! This gameshow host would - certainly appreciate that!" There might have been a hint of mania in there, but the stranger visibly drew strength from it, standing a little taller. "Can you turn this cage off?"
"EAHAEHA! THAT [$%£&][ Quality Encryption] IS NO [[online dating services]] FOR [KeyGen]!" He pulled a small object from inside his jacket and held it up above his head dramatically, in a way that made Ant's brain automatically edit in a spotlight shining down on it. The device was mostly key-shaped, but more sci-fi, with a squarish tip and some multicoloured blinking lights down the sides. "[[For The Low Low Price Of]] FREE!! FEAST YOUR [FEAST] ON THIS!!!!"
Ant watched in fascination as he scampered over and started poking at the base of the cage with the key. After a few moments, he heard the distinct sound of something exploding, which was worrying until the bars of the cage flickered and disappeared. His joints made an uncomfortably loud cracking noise as he finally uncurled himself and got up from the floor. "Oh, that's much better!"
Looking down at the stranger from this angle - who was a lot shorter than Ant had first thought, only a little over half his own height - something finally clicked. "I saw you before, didn't I?" he asked. "Back in the city?"
He'd caught a few glimpses of someone skulking around the alleys when he was rushing around that neon labyrinth looking for the kids, someone who quickly vanished back into the shadows when they saw him looking. He hadn't been paying much attention at the time - getting separated from the group and lost in an incomprehensible techno-dimension had taken up most of his brainpower, and he might have been freaking out a little - but he'd definitely seen a glint of pink and yellow, the same as this person's funky lenses. Ant hadn't seen any other "Darkners" that matched the silhouette, and the stranger didn't look anything like the other residents of the city (except for a vague resemblance to those "Addisons", but he was being a lot more polite than them). He seemed more unique than that.
"I- I-" The stranger paused and muttered something under his breath. Ant could only make out the word "honest" in the static hiss. Apparently, his face wasn't completely frozen, as his smile fell at the corners, turning into more of a grimace. "YES???" He looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. "I WASN'T. FOLLOWING YOU. IN. A WEIRD WAY. YOU LOOK ED [[All Alone On A Late Night?]] - [[Lost Control Of- [[Feeling lost and confused?]] I THOUGHT. YOU CUOLD USE A? [HELP-"
Something electrical crackled over his face, bending the light like it was underwater. He cut himself off violently, slapping a hand over his mouth. Delicate-looking ball-jointed fingers splayed over his clenched teeth. "SORRY? ABOUT THAT?"
"It's... fine? No need to apologise." Ant found himself hunching over to be closer to the stranger's eye level - he wasn't sure if doing that was polite or condescending - and his hands hovered in the air, unsure if he needed to do something. "Are you sure you're okay?"
The stranger inched away from Ant's hands, hesitating as his eyes flitted around the room. "HEY HEY! I SHOULD BE [welfare check] THAT!! YOU'RE [[the one!]] LOCKED IN [[Dungeon crawler]]!!" He twirled the key around and turned towards the door. "ALLOW KEYGEN!!!"
He made it halfway there before the room abruptly lit up in red.
Ant's attention snapped to the massive screen taking up the back wall. His heart crashed into his windpipe, but the only thing displayed against the solid red backdrop was a flashing white error message: QUANTITY OVERLOAD. "Hey!" he yelped. "Mr. Mysterious Stranger! Do you have any idea what this is?"
The stranger stared up at the screen. "WAIT, THAT'S - 0H. AH, [$%£&]. SERIOUSLY??"
"What does that mean?!" Ant glanced frantically back and forth between the stranger and the message. He didn't look like he was panicking, but he didn't seem happy either; if anything, with the tone of his voice and the way he narrowed his eyes at it, he seemed kind of annoyed. "Is it bad?!"
"NOT FOR US!" He gestured towards the screen. "LOOKS LIKE THOSE [[Meddling Kids]] MAN4GED TO [[Execution]] A DDOS!"
"A... what?"
"DOZENS AND DOZENS OF SHOVELS. TH3 [Point] IS -" He turned around and gave the door one good kick. It slid open obediently. "[[Secure your data]] IS [%&*?]ED!! WHICH IS GOOD!! IF YOU WANT TED TO ECAPE!! BUT ALSO. MEAN5 I WAS [[0% accuracy rating]]!!!"
"You mean you were... wrong?" guessed Ant. "About what?"
"HA." The stranger's grip on the key was tight enough to shake slightly. "EAHA. YOU. DIDN'T NEED A [[BIG SHOT]] TO [ ]. AFT3R 4LL!!1!"
He looked back at Ant abruptly, the strained smile back on his face. "WHATEVER!!!!! LET'S [[Take A Ride Around Town]]!!!!" he declared, stepping through the door and waving at Ant to follow. "COME ON! [[Hot Rod]]!! MAKE LIKE A [House] AND [Leaves]!!!"
"No argument here!" Ant followed him out into a neon corridor full of more doors, placed along the tall walls in implausibly layered rows. "Although I might disagree with the first part."
"?" said the stranger, which was an interesting thing to pronounce.
"Well, you've been very helpful! You're showing me the way out -"
"IT'S VERY [Obvious]."
"- and honestly, if I had to sit in that cage for another minute, I think my legs would have fallen off." Ant offered the stranger a wobbly smile as he looked back at him lopsidedly. It was oddly cute. "Mostly, though... I guess I haven't been having the easiest day here. I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of your city."
"NO [[Good Offense]] TAKEN!! THIS PLACE [[sucks Ass]] SOME TIMES!"
"You can say that again." Ant sighed. "Anyway, a mysterious stranger showing up to rescue me from this mansion is the nicest thing that's..." He stopped walking as he trailed off.
"[[Gameshow Host]] ?"
"You... said that before. A... 'gameshow host in need', right?" said Ant slowly. "You knew who I was?"
". . [Correct]! WE HAVE [[Top 100 Funny Clips]] HERE." The stranger pointed at the "TV" pin on Ant's lapel. "[Mr (Ant) Tenna's TV Time!] IS A CLA$$IC!"
Is it? "Well, yes, but..." Things were clicking into place in Ant's head. The stranger clearly had something odd going on with his voice, and he didn't seem to have much control over the things he said, but... Big shot. Ride around town. Salesman... and that was cut short, wasn't it?
And you came to help me - you still haven't told me why you'd want to do that. You crawled through the vents all this way to break me out of Queen's mansion, and you didn't even ask for anything in return. Why me? Why do all that for a stranger, unless...
"Okay," said Ant, raising a finger. "I've seen Tron."
The stranger blinked at him. "GOOD?? THAT IS. ALSO A [[Classic Taste]]???"
"I don't understand a lot of what's going on here, but... I'm inside of the computer, right? And you and everyone else here, you're... people who live in computers?"
He shrugged. "Y ES? MORE OR [less than or equal to]."
"So... this might be a stupid thing to think, but you..." Ant paused, trying to search his expression, but the stranger's face didn't give anything away. "Are you... Spamton?"
Once again, Spamton G. Spamton was facing the consequences of his bad business decisions.
He felt his eyes widen stupidly. The worst part was that it didn't sound like an accusation. It was quiet, tentative, like Ant was afraid of spooking him. He knew that voice from the old gameshow clips, the handful of videos he'd downloaded so he could see Ant's face, back when he was just starting to realise how important their talks over email were to him. He'd fallen asleep to it sometimes, trying to distract himself with Ant's infectious optimism while he shivered at the bottom of a dumpster. He was definitely the only person to ever have used TV Time as a sleep aid. The show was pretty badly suited for it.
Ant's voice had never been this soft in the clips.
And now Ant was here, in front of him. The real thing, close enough that Spamton could see the little adrenaline tremors in his hands and the streaks of grey in his hair. Here and there, a few of the tight dark brown curls stood up at awkward angles where proximity to lasers had turned them dry and crispy. He was almost twice Spamton's height, which was actually less than Spamton had been expecting. Sheer stage presence made him come off like a man fifteen feet tall in his shows.
It was still the Ant Tenna that Spamton knew, still the one Lightner - the one person - who'd ever actually given him hope for the future, who'd given him a real, concrete reason to want his freedom. If he ascended, then he could do all the things Ant did for himself. If he ascended, then he could meet Ant as an equal. If he ascended, then he wouldn't have to lie to Ant anymore.
But he seemed real now. He was that radiant Lightner, and he was also someone who could be anxious and hurt and fail at the things he set out to do, who could crack bad jokes when he was nervous and get aching joints when he was uncomfortable, and actually hold a conversation with Spamton in the same room, reacting live to everything he said and did. He could realise who this puppet really was, and wait patiently for him to unfreeze, with a look on his face that... wasn't disgust or anger, but that Spamton couldn't narrow down further than that.
Spamton shuddered. Being honest hurt, but he couldn't make himself lie to Ant. Not to his face.
"HHEY, [[Silver Screen]]," he forced out. "[[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]] S S S-SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. AT YOUR [Room Service]."
He squeezed his eyes shut. Years ago, he would have felt his nails digging into his palms at this point; in this body, he felt plastic plates creaking instead.
"I knew it!" A snap of fingers. Ant sounded surprisingly upbeat, but Spamton didn't risk opening his eyes to see how he was reacting. "I knew you seemed familiar! Your voice - it was throwing me off a little, but it sounds just like how you write!" Spamton flinched. "But, then... I don't get it. Why didn't you just tell me who you were to begin with?"
That was enough to get Spamton to look at him. Ant was smiling at him again, although not as much as before, still leaning down a little, and his head was - oh, hell, the last thing Spamton needed right now was for Ant to start being cute - tilted slightly to one side.
"HUH???"
"Spamton..." He trailed off and laughed, shaking his head. "Gosh, that's surreal to say out loud. Spamton, we've been writing to each other for, what, a year now? Actually meeting you is - I've wanted to do this for ages. I did tell you that, right?" Ant's smile finally faded, but he just looked a little melancholy. "Did you think I wouldn't believe you? Because... well, okay, I might not have believed you yesterday if you'd told me you were a little guy who lived in the computer, but that's just because I didn't know the computer-world existed! And I'm stuck in the computer-world right now, so... that's some pretty compelling evidence!"
"N NO?? THAT>S NOT IT." When he was crawling through the vents and planning out what he'd say in his head, the idea that Ant wouldn't have believed him was something Spamton had considered, but not for that reason. Actually, he'd figured that Ant not believing he was the real Spamton was something of a best-case-scenario. That way, he might not associate his friend with the garbage puppet.
"Then... why?" The sadness wasn't quite as weird as the excitement. Spamton felt even more guilty than he already did. "Why didn't you want me to know that I'd met you?"
"ISNT IT- ISNT IT- ISNT IT- ISNT IT-" Confusion caught Spamton in a looping glitch. Maybe it would illustrate his point. "ISNT IT [Obvious]???"
"It's not!" Ant was finally starting to sound hurt.
"I LIED!!!" Spamton waved his hands around helplessly, trying to gesture to all of himself at once. "LOOK!! DOES THIS LOOK [[Like and Subscribe]] THE [Face] [Body] [Ass] OF A [[BIG SHOT]] TO YOU?!?! I VE BEEN TELLING Y0U ABOUT MY [W1ld Pr1zes!] AND [Hyperlink Blocked] FOR [[what, a year now?]] AND [[Jumpscare]]!!! THO5E DAYS ARE [[Over and Out]]!! SPAMTON G. SPAMTON IS A [Long-Nosed Doll] LIVING IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN!1!!" He fixed his eyes on Ant's bright yellow tie and refused to look at his face. "I. RIPPED. YOU. OFF! EHAEHAEHAHAH4! DOESN'T THAT [Stink]!! D035N'T TH4T JUST MAKE YOU W4NTT O [Die]?! EAHA!! DON'7 YOU WANT T0 THR0W M E IN THE [[Trash Compactor]] [with FREE shipping!]??!!"
Ant hesitated. "You.. you think you ripped me off?"
"I DID!!!! B YDEFINITION! [[;a financial exploitation; ]]!! I SAID I C OULD MAKE YOU [[BIG]] SO YOU WOULD GIVE ME KROMER!!" Everything else came later. "I ONLY [Waltz]]ED INTO YOUR [[Inbox]] IN THE [1st Place] TO SCAM YOU!"
Spamton forced the confession out through a rapidly swelling throat. He'd never actually laid it all out like that, and to his horror, he could feel a few tears threatening to fall. Stupid. He'd cried enough over not being worthy of Ant's time. The least he could do was not do it in front of him.
"Even if that's true..." Spamton flinched as Ant knelt down, moving his face into Spamton's field of view. He was smiling softly again. "You did just rescue me."
Spamton looked away again. "YOU DIDN'T NEED IT," he muttered.
"It's the thought that counts."
"AND I L1ED AGAIN!! WHIILE I WAS [Doing that]! I DIDN' T TELL YOU IT WAS M3!!"
"Which I don't actually mind!" Ant laughed. It wasn't cruel. "I liked your 'mysterious stranger' act! It was fun! You've got a really good sense of drama! It would have been fine if you were just planning on doing a big dramatic reveal later, but... did you think I'd hate you if I knew who you were?"
Spamton didn't say anything. It was enough of an answer.
"Spamton..." He felt Ant carefully place a hand on his shoulder. "Honestly, I... I think I'd already guessed some of it."
It took a moment for Spamton to register what he'd said. He was distracted by the hand, pleasantly warm and big enough to cover most of his forearm. "[[Guest]]?"
"You were always... pretty vague about what you were going to do for me. And you stopped talking about it after we became friends."
Spamton looked up at him in disbelief. "MAYBE I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE YOU [[Trust Fund]] ME."
"For your information, I don't have a trust fund," said Ant, in a mock-offended tone. "But, seriously, you gained my trust a long time ago. If you wanted to con me that badly, then I don't think you'd have wasted so much time." He nodded back towards the room he'd been locked in. "Heck, you could have held me hostage back there! If you asked me for money now, I'd just be paying you for a job well done!"
"[cripes], [[Ant-Sized]], YOU'RE [[Gullible]]- TRUST. ING."
"But I'm right!" Ant's smile wavered. "Aren't I?"
Spamton sighed. "[[True]]. I... NEEDED. THE [Mony]. I WAS TRYING TO [[Convince]] YOU INT0 A [[Bad Deal]]. BUT YOU- YOU- YOU KEPT REPLYI NG. YOU KEPT [Speaking] TO ME LIKE YOU ACTUAL1Y GAVE A [$#!?] [About] M3 AND I-" He cut himself off with a sharp breath, shaking slightly. Ant's hand on his shoulder was getting really distracting now. "I. FELT BAD. ABOUT IT. I DIDNT WANT. TO [£@*%] YOU OVER. EVEN WHEN I WAS [[BIG]], NOBODY CARED ABOUT ME [[as many as 10 different flavors]]- AS MUCH. AS YOU."
Ant was quiet. Spamton felt a scattering of small anxiety-induced glitches start to build up around his outline, only to be wiped away in one burst of static as Ant leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him.
Spamton thought he was being crushed before he realised he was being hugged. That being his first reaction was probably why Ant was doing it. It felt kind of ridiculous to be hugged by someone so much bigger then him, like Spamton was a jumbo-sized plushie.
He didn't care. He hadn't been hugged in - he couldn't remember, and when he thought about it, he wasn't sure he'd ever actually been hugged before. It felt like an itch he hadn't known he was feeling was fading, like this body's background noise of pain and cold was being dragged to the surface and draining away. Spamton did what he could to return it, wrapping his own, much shorter arms as far around Ant's waist as they would go. His nose bent upwards to a comical ninety degree angle against Ant's warm chest.
"Wow." There was a hint of wetness in Ant's voice that matched what Spamton was surreptitiously trying to wipe of his own face using Ant's tie. "Those must have been some gunky vents."
"THAT'S THE [Trash Zone]," Spamton mumbled.
"That was literal?" Ant sounded scared at first, and Spamton had to remind himself that this was what concern sounded like. "Well. Maybe I could do something about that?"
"L8R." If Spamton started thinking about that idea right now, he might have a breakdown. "WE'RE STILL IN [[Hostile Territory]], [members only]? LET'S FINISH [[Exit stage left]] F1RST."
"Right! Yes!" Ant awkwardly extracted himself from the hug, leaving a fuzzy, tingling feeling running through Spamton's whole body. "You said the kids had, ah, broken the security system?"
"THEYLL BE [[Free-running]]," confirmed Spamton, fixing his nose again. "PROBABLY [[Annihilating]] THE [[local pottery classes]] [1/2]WAY ACROSS THE MANSION BY NOW."
"You're probably right about that." Ant ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Well, at least they're capable kids. What about Noelle? She was being held somewhere else, right?"
"[[Penthouse Suite]]. THAT'S THE [Higher] SEC URITY [Winglet]. I DON'T THINK THE SY5T3M WILL BE [[Busted!]] THERE." Spamton looked back up at Ant. "I THINK. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE [THINK]ING."
"You don't have to help," started Ant cautiously. "I mean, you took a big risk coming here, and you've probably crawled through enough vents for one day, so if you think it'd be too dangerous..."
"NO [Convenience] VENTS. I DON'T KNOW THE [Floorplan]. IT'S [[Inevitable]] G01NG 2 B3 FULL OF [[top 100 funniest]] TRAPS AND [[Ladies and Gentlemen]] WHO COULD [[Punt]] ME INTO [[Next Wednesday]]." Spamton sighed heavily. "BBUT. ALSO A [Metric] [£&$]TON OF LIGHT neR<S. INCLUDING MY [[Number 1 Customer]]. AND. IF I DON'T. I'LL FEEL BAD."
Ant practically lit up. "You're going to help?"
"THAT KID'S MY [[Number 2 Customer]]," admitted Spamton. "AND I THINK YOU MADE>ME [growing] A CONS CENSE. SO. SURE THING."
"Number two... right, she did say something about responding to emails," said Ant thoughtfully. "Small world. Anyway, thank you! Whatever Queen's put in our way won't stand a chance!"
"Y3AH, YE4H." Spamton waved him off. "JUST STAND IN THE [[Oncoming Traffic]] IF 1 OF [[Easels]]'S CREW SEE ME. THEY'RE NOT [BIG] FANS OF [[cute lil guys]] SNEAKING IN."
"Of course! I won't let anyone hurt you." Ant's energy seemed to drain a little. There was something heavier in there, unspoken. Spamton was scuffed and dented, and always twitchy, never able to completely relax. Maybe it was an "again".
Ant started to move, but then stopped. He took a step past Spamton down the corridor, paused, and took a half-step back, glancing back and forth between him and the path forward. Spamton was about to ask what was wrong when Ant pulled him into another hug.
"It's good to see you, Spamton," he murmured. "I wish it wasn't in such a mess, but I'm so happy to finally meet you."
"I- I- [[Return to Sender]]," stuttered Spamton, suddenly overwhelmed. "YOU. YOU'RE . 3VEN MORE [[Hyperlink Blocked]] IN PERSON." He cackled nervously. "EAHA!! WISH I COULD HAVE [Show]ED UP WITH A [[boo-kette]] INSTEAD OF A KEYGEN!"
Ant pulled back, regarded him for a moment, and-
Spamton glitched a few inches off the ground and palette-swapped from stained white to an eye-burning shade of red as Ant planted a quick, soft kiss on his cheek. His racing thoughts scattered, leaving an overwhelming incoherent feeling of ?!!?!!??!! as the only thing in his head.
By the time he came back to himself, Ant had let go of him, and was continuing down the corridor for real this time. Spamton watched him, frozen in place with one hand pressed against his cheek. He couldn't see if Ant was blushing, but something about the stiff, awkward way he was moving told Spamton that he was.
A bad business decision. Clumps of dust from the vents clung to Spamton's clothes. He wasn't getting paid for this.
Spamton's heart soared. For the first time since his downfall, he felt warm.
It was a good thing he was so bad at business.