Work Text:
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, God.”
Kinger wheezed, choking on a nauseating concoction of relief and lingering fear. He couldn’t remember how he got here, but that was hardly unusual. He pushed his weary brain to remember he could will away the suffocating vacuum consuming his chest. He forced himself to breathe in air that his body didn’t need but mind screamed for, clinging for dear life to the feeling of clear headedness it brought.
Dear, dear life.
You’d be a fool to call anything life here—he’d thought that for certain once, back in the day. Kinger stared down at the silent, trembling creature in his arms, the frantic gazes of five fellow souls bearing down on his heart like a hailstorm. Never had he been more certain of his own foolishness, never had life felt more precious nor more grossly and profoundly unfair.
Kinger drew another grounding breath, shifting to get a better grip on Caine’s translucent, glitching form. “I’ve gotcha. I’m so sorry, little Flutterby.” His own voice was little more than a choked whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The little AI was restored somehow, but not functional. His eyes were obscured by storms of blue and scarlet static. Harsh light shown beneath the cracks in his features, creating tremors that would have likely caused great pain, had he been conscious. Kinger flinched now and then but held tight, reaching for Caine’s hand that had fallen listlessly to the floor after the last seizure.
“Please. We all really need you to stay with us, right now.” Kinger squeezed Caine’s hand coaxingly, alarmed by how warm it felt. The smallest sound drifted up toward him in reply. What could be seen of Caine’s head beneath manic layers of static tilted weakly into the fabric of Kinger’s robe.
"He's overheating. We need some ice, if there's… any about to be found..." Kinger forced his gaze upward. It took effort—every instinct in him screamed that one wrong move, one inattentive glance might be the chance Caine needed to slip away. Off to some place he could never reach, ever again.
They were gone.
Kinger's eyes met only blank space where the last five people in his world had just been standing. His arms tightened around Caine's shoulders, partly out of protective instinct, partially out of fear. They had just been there with them, he was certain of it.
"Į̸̩́—" Caine tried to speak but a spasm cut him short, reducing the word to a whimper. He strained against Kinger as if trying to push himself upright.
Skyward.
"I…ha v—e..e̸.̴.̴t̸o̵ ̴f̸i̶x̶ ̸t̷h̶i̸S̶.̷.̷…."
An ear-splitting cacophony drowned him out, spilling from his mouth in a warbled, mechanical wail. Electronic neurons misfiring, complaining of their fatal failures. Caine groaned.
"Wh…w̸h̵e̷r̷e̴…̶a̷r̶e̸ t̸h̶e̸y̵…I—I h̶͐͜a̸͎͌v̵̻̓ȅ̷̝…to fix it. I can fix it…!" His free hand scrabbled feebly at Kinger's collar. "Please— l…let me. Just give me…o̷̦͗-̵̆͜o̷͓̐n̵̟̅ȩ̸͂ more chance…"
"This isn't your mess to fix, Flutterby. I'm sorry you've had to try for so long. I should have never, ever…" Kinger's voice broke. He cradled Caine closer.
"I have to, it's why you made me. It's why I…..w̶͕̾h̷͓́y̶̙̋ I̷…̴" Caine's words dissolved into a broken, frightened sob.
"I'm going to fix this." Kinger spoke the words over the poor AI's head like a prayer, willing his own mind to believe it. "I swear to you. No matter what happens, I'll be here. I'll—"
"Make another promise you can't even possibly begin to keep?"
Caine raised his head. His eyes were beginning to dim. They drifted deliriously, locking on to something Kinger couldn't see.
"You were r̴̼͠i̵̛͈g̵̡̐h̵̙͋t̷͔̓," he croaked. "About e̵ ̶v̷ ̵e̷ ̸r̷ ̷y̶ ̸t̸ ̷h̶ ̸i̴ ̵n̸g̷…"
Laughter cascaded down on them. Mirthless. Merciless. Bell-like.
"E̵̮͘v̴̺͘ë̵̬́r̶͔̆y̷͍̎…ṱ̶̈h̴̦͑ì̷͙n̵͚̎g̵̙̍…"
"Shh." Kinger rocked Caine softly, the motion working to soothe his own nerves in the process. "Don't answer it. It's not right, about anything. It doesn't matter. It isn't real." The chesspiece threw his voice as far as possible, all the way up into the grim, dreary rafters.
Far past the Skybox.
"You don't belong here. I know you did this."
"Whaa? 'Lil ol' meee?"
Caine's hand twitched, as if reaching for something. Kinger held it tighter.
"It ain't my fault if you can't read, old man."
"No! You tripped me up, you wanted everyone to get hurt. You wanted Caine to get hurt. I was trying to save him. You tried to tell me he shouldn't exist. I was trying to save them all, and you ruined it!"
Bleary, mismatched eyes struggled to focus on Kinger's face. He gazed down at his creation, their unseen tormentor momentarily forgotten.
"Caine, I never meant for this to happen. Honest. I never dreamed…I was trying to help you. The others, they were trying to buy me time. We were trying to find a way to help. You were hurt, and if I'd only seen it sooner—"
"Too bad you're always the last one in the loop."
An avalanche of debris rained down from overhead. Kinger dropped Caine's hand, instinctively raising a nonexistent arm in a futile attempt to give shelter. A fractured beam hit him in the side of the head, bouncing off into the darkness. Sharp shards of plastic and glass pelted them both like bullets, but Caine did not react. His eyes flickered with weak pinpricks of light, unfocused and unseeing, as the world he'd built crumbled irreparably all around them.
"H o w's y o u r w i f e, K i n g e r ?"
The floor gave way underneath them. A cold wind, fierce and cruel, whipped without discretion across the ruined midway; tearing Caine from Kinger's grasp. He could feel his own form surrender to the free fall, as the world dissolved into night. Darkness had been a comfort, once, but now it was only a spotlight on his pain.
"You couldn't save her. You couldn't save your esteemed little colleagues."
Blinding glare. Suffocating murk.
"You couldn't even save your own child."
The world split apart again into a grey, forsaken light.