Chapter Text
Rustle rustle.
Voices.
What did they want now…? Couldn’t they see he was trying to get some sleep? He bet it was Red; he always woke up so early-
SC was slammed against the cold metal bars at the back of his cell, jolting him awake. A blade of pure energy rested dangerously close to his neck, so close he could almost feel it trying to tear at his very code.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dark taunted.
Right. SC was stuck here.
Dark recalled the magical death blade, and SC collapsed to the ground. His shoulder was really sore; why was it again? He couldn’t remember – the haze in his mind was thick, and he wasn’t quite ready to face whatever was coming next.
Unfortunately for him, the others did not care if he was ready or not. One of the workers put the circle cuff over his hands again (this, he did remember), and he was dragged back into the white box.
SC looked around for Chosen, but he was nowhere to be found. His heart sank. He at least wanted some familiar face around to help him get through whatever horrors he’d have to endure next.
The worker left the box, and the door closed behind them, leaving SC and Dark alone. The red hollow-head leaned against the stark-white walls.
“So…are you going to, like, fight me or something?” SC asked, not quite sure why they were just standing around.
“Nah. We’re waiting for Vic. They told me not to mess around with you until they got here, which is just stupid. You should probably thank them. If things went my way, you’d be very, very dead right now.” Oh. That was fun. SC felt plenty more comfortable now that he knew he was in a small room with someone who wanted to kill him and had every opportunity to do so.
He took a moment to analyze Dark. The eye bandage and over-the-top attire were new, but other than that, he looked a lot like the monster that the rest of the gang had described. Although, SC couldn’t help but think something was off.
Was...was he missing an arm?
Before SC could inquire further, the door to the box suddenly opened. In walked the grey stick from the day prior. Was this Vic? Probably so.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Grumpyface himself!” Dark teased.
“Out,” Vic ordered bluntly, pointing at the rectangular hole in the box’s wall.
“Cursors above, it was just a joke-”
“I plan on this interrogation to go smoothly, and your violent tendencies won’t help with that.”
Dark scoffed and walked out. “Have fun, you son of a-” The door closed on him before he could finish.
Vic sighed. “I don’t think we’ve had a proper introduction just yet. My name is Victim, head of Rocket Corp, the most well-known tech company here in the Outernet.”
Victim? That was weird name. Why would Alan name someone that? SC’s curiosity got the better of him. “You’re one of Alan’s creations, right?” he verified.
Victim tensed a bit at the mention of the human’s name. “...yes, I happen to have been created by...him.” There was a strange bitterness in their voice. “That was what I wanted to ask you about, Second Coming. Our creator.”
...how did this guy know his full name?
SC didn’t have much time to dwell on this, as Victim knocked on the wall of the box, and two chairs appeared in the center of the space, facing each other. They took the one closet to the entrance and gestured towards the other. SC took a seat, albeit warily.
“Let us begin,” Victim said, clasping their hands together. “What is your relationship with the Creator?”
“Well...he’s a nice person, and he lets Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, and I do our own thing a lot, as long as we don’t mess up his stuff or anything. I used to help Alan with animation a bit more than I do now, but he’s a fast learner and doesn’t need all too much help now. He wasn’t very good when I first met him.”
Victim nodded, following along as SC rambled on. Once he was done, they asked him another question.
“When were you drawn?”
“Uh...October 2, 2014, I think?”
“Interesting...how were you created?”
SC was confused. What did they mean, how? Wasn’t it all the same?
“I dunno, I just got drawn or something. One moment, nothing, the next, an animation program.”
“Any ‘convert to symbol’ pop-ups?”
“No…?”
Victim leaned back on their chair. “How strange.” What had he done wrong? Was he not supposed to have been created? Was there something wrong with SC? Was that why his drawings came to life, or why he had been brought here in the first place?
“Alright, let’s move on to a different topic. What do you know about the Chosen One?”
SC didn’t feel too comfortable with this question. Chosen was here in the building; why didn’t they just ask him?
“Not much...he’s pretty quiet...but he does have some cool powers, a-and he was there at the Showdown…” His voice trailed off at the mention of that terrible day.
Victim didn’t look too pleased with the answer. “How about anything about his past?”
“I mean, he hasn’t told us anything, really, but if he’s brave enough to try and stop the Dark Lord, he has to have done some pretty good stuff, right?” Another thought bubbled into his mind. “Wait, why are you working with that guy? He’s awful! H-he-”
“That’ll be enough.” Standing up, Victim turned to leave. “You are oblivious to the nature of things. But don’t fret, that is a problem with an easy fix.” The door opened, and the grey hollow-head exited the box, leaving SC alone.
What did they mean? What about the “nature of things?” He didn’t find it fair that Victim could tell them something so cryptic and weird and then not explain any of it. They should’ve at lea-
The chair SC was sitting in suddenly vanished, and he fell onto the cold, unnaturally smooth ground of the box. Rude.
He sat there for a while, before deciding that it was about time he attempted to break out. After all, sitting in a completely empty room with absolutely nothing to do was already getting boring. SC walked up to the wall where the door had been, punched it once, and instantly regretted his decision.
“Hello? Is anyone out there? Can you, like, give me a paper and pencil or something so I’m not just standing here?” His pleas went unanswered.
Pouting, SC headed back to the center of the box. He missed his friends. How many days had it been since he was brought to this dreary place? Two? Three? For the love of Adobe Photoshop, he seriously needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a jerk or overly formal.
Maybe he could find Chosen. If the workers came to take him to the stupid cell, he could probably beat them up and run before they got the weird cuff thing on him. That would be a decent plan, but then SC remembered the other sticks he’d seen around when getting shoved into the box.
Some tall guy who looked familiar, a sketchy one, one that looked like the character on the “floor is wet” warning signs, and a pixel-y one. They all seemed pretty capable of beating him in a fight. And, of course, there was Dark…
SC shuddered at the thought of what the red hollow-head could do. Nope, no escape plans. Too dangerous. He’d just have to wait.
...for how long, though? There was no way to tell the time. He wasn’t even sure if it was day or not. The waiting was already insufferable and he wasn’t even sure if five minutes had passed.
But no, he would get through it. He needed to show Victim and the rest of their stupid team that he was strong. Maybe then he’d be able to leave. Maybe by then his friends would have come up with a plan to get SC out of there.
Where were they, anyways? He hoped they were okay. The thought of their bodies, slowly melting away, made its way into his head again…
Please let them be fine...
POWERS_STATUS: LOCKED;
POWERS_STATUS_LOCKED_DESCRIPTION: Powers cannot become active. Some breaches in this statement may occur, but status shift is not yet possible.