Chapter Text
Tenna rushed from place to place, checking every nook and cranny of the studio’s workings, making sure every staff member was being useful and setting up things in the right place. He wore a bright smile, but it was strained, sharp-toothed, sweat beading on his forehead as his fans slowly churned out a nervous rhythm. His long legs carried him across the studio with ease, staff quickly running out of the way of his sweeping dress shoes. As he passed the set department, he hummed in satisfaction upon seeing backdrops covered in reds, greens, and white, snow and greenery pasted everywhere. Backstage, he nodded his head at a pair of Shadowguys who were carefully placing sleighbells and slapsticks in the sound booth, letting out a shaky breath before he moved on. The Pippins working the props department yelled at him as his thundering footsteps rattled breakable glassware and jugs of (faux) eggnog. With a terse apology and a brief “good work!”, he passed onwards toward the weather room. Lanino and Elnina assured him all was well as they touched up their make-up. “It’s clear skies as far as we’re concerned,” Lanino told him, his shining weatherman’s grin sitting comfortably on his face. Elnina nodded in agreement, then leaned toward Tenna with a hand cupping her mouth, as if she was telling a secret. “Though, I believe today’s forecast calls for a dusting of snow later tonight,” she whispered with a wink.
Tenna smiled at them both, giving them a grandiose round of pre-recorded applause before turning on his heel with a wave. He sighed, rushing to where he technically was supposed to be. He nervously wrung his hands as he walked, his antennas bending at odd, anxious angles. Everything had to be perfect. It was the holidays, for crying out loud! That meant the Holidays, too! It meant more people gathering in the living room, with him as the glowing centerpiece, expecting heartwarming Christmas and Giftmas specials of all their favorite shows. It meant the whole kit and caboodle! As much as he adored the undivided attention, even he sweated under the scrutiny of the spotlight. Everything needed to run smoother than freshly-laid ice; even a single hitch had the potential of shutting down the show. Everything needed to be flawless; he needed to be flawless. He couldn’t let down his favorite viewers! What a disappointment he’d be! No, a failure! The holidays would be ruined!
Finally, as Tenna came upon the placement tape marking where he needed to be, he heard a Pippins call for places. “One minute to show time, people!” they shouted, rushing around backstage with a clipboard in their mitts, “I repeat, one minute to call!” Tenna took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he reached up to straighten his antennas. It just wouldn’t do to be this nervous! He had a whole night of holiday fun to host! And why should he have butterflies crowding his circuits anyway? He’s done this whole song and dance many times before; he’s known both of those families out there since before some of the kids were even born. He knows they love him. He loves them just as much, maybe even more; enough to get the shakes over a series of shows he knows by heart. At that thought, Tenna smiled, confidence rising in his chest as he smoothed out his suit coat and straightened his tie. Maybe that was all he needed to think about right now. He really loved his family and their friends; all this was was a chance to show how much he cared. A chance to make them laugh, smile, bask in the warmth of familiar holiday tradition. To him, he supposed, it didn’t need to be more than that.
Besides, he thought, I personally checked every little detail in every single department, and it all looked perfectly fine! He looked straight at the camera ahead of him, a large, flashy grin on his face as he watched a Zapper’s fingers count down from three. Tenna stood tall, a microphone in his hand poised in front of his lips, prepared for him to announce the first show. He still felt butterflies in his stomach, but as he stared at the camera, his family’s window into the studio, he realized it was excitement, not nerves, that was buzzing under his casing. The light on the camera turned red, and the Zapper pointed to Tenna. Show time. Tenna grinned and opened his mouth to begin the program. What could possibly go wrong?
*
Everything, apparently. Every single set had some kind of glitch, something that went absolutely haywire. Firstly, the schedule somehow, somehow got mixed around as if it was thrown in a blender, and almost immediately, backstage fell into chaos. Different departments were receiving different cues for different shows; no one truly knew which story was supposed to come next. The 5 o’clock and 6 o’clock shows were switched around, even though Tenna introduced them at their scheduled times. Sets got mixed up, props got lost in the frenzied grapple for order, sound effects went off at random, creating sudden bursts of incongruent cacophony. Even the weather board went berserk behind Elnina and Lanino as they attempted to tell the forecast, showing impossibly cold temperatures and apocalyptic precipitation. The couple thankfully played it off with a laugh, giving their own (hopefully accurate) report and joking at the board’s expense. Tenna laughed with them off-stage, though stress clung to every wire in his body. The only thing keeping him from screaming into a pillow in the greenroom was the assurance that the kids were giggling at the display as well. Then, in the middle of the annual airing of “The Grouch” the lights malfunctioned, painting every following show in harsh, saturated colors. Terrified, with one metaphorical eye trained on the light world, Tenna screamed at the backstage crew for someone, anyone to get the lights back up and running. A few Zappers rushed to the rafters to frantically fix them, only succeeding until the ending credits of “A Charles Green Holiday”, and even still, the colors weren’t quite right. Something definitely broke as staff rushed to and fro in all of the pandemonium. Probably multiple things. Oh, Angel, this whole mess was definitely going in as a loss on the next quarterly report.
Finally, as 10 o’clock rolled around, and the last holiday special ended, Tenna took the stage one last time. He drew a shaky breath, his TV host grin nearly falling into a grimace. This was it. All he had to do was bring it home, say his goodbyes and they could play reruns for the rest of the night, maybe go to bed, grab a snack, try to forget about this absolute disaster. Tenna stepped up to his mark in front of the camera, sweat beading on his forehead. “And that's all for tonight folks! Thank you for joining us on this evening full of
.” He wrapped the back of his hand around his mouth, leaning toward the camera conspiratorially, “(Though, let’s hope you didn’t drink too much of that “spirit”, parents!)” Even through the uproarious studio laughter, he heard something else just offstage, some kind of commotion, something he couldn't quite make out. His smile twitched. It was fine, he just needed to get through this last speech and then he could go see if someone needed to get fired. “Be sure to join us later this month for our new years celebration! Featuring the classics you've come to expect: the annual marathon of
” The ruckus was getting louder, so much so the camera surely could have picked it up. It was mainly people yelling, shouting something Tenna couldn't quite hear. He tightened his grip on the microphone. “F-from our studio t…” Okay, this was really getting distracting. Just what were they screaming about? “T-to your living room, happy holidays to all! And to all, a good nigh-”
“TENNA, LOOK OUT!”
Tenna jolted, whipping his gaze to the wings of the stage, where a large group of staff were frantically gesturing for him to move. “The lights, Tenna! The lights!” they cried. Suddenly, Tenna heard the unmistakable creak and groan of weakening metal. He turned his gaze upwards with a gasp, just as something in the rafters snapped, sending the full set of lights and metal scaffolding careening down toward him. Before he could even think, they crushed him, shattering his screen and plunging the world into darkness.
