Chapter Text
"Get off of me, get off, let me—" Yellow was roughly shoved into the room, "—Go?"
The four guards shared a look. There had been two guards dragging her, but then she'd managed to wrench herself free and knock out one. They'd caught her before she could escape then, and now, before Yellow could shove past them here, one of them punched a code into a screen on the side of the door. The door that slid closed, locking Yellow inside.
It occurred to her that it was preferable to be forcibly dragged along the facilities than it was to be shoved and locked inside a cell. At least when she was being dragged there was a change in scenery (and a mirage, a hope of escaping).
"Wait—" Yellow squinted, running her hands along the seam of the door, trying to find an edge to pull or push. This wasn't what she meant when she said she wanted to be left alone, "Wait, no—"
There wasn't an edge. There was barely a seam. It wasn’t even visible without her glasses (and she didn’t know if it was with her glasses, considering they’d gotten knocked off when she’d been dragged here). If Yellow hadn’t seen it open half a second ago, she wouldn’t have known it was there. She slammed her fist against the door, against the weakest point, theoretically, but it didn't even budge, let alone break.
Oh, Cursors. She was trapped. Trapped in this high-tech… lab , apparently, as she looked around and saw machinery and sterile supplies, and someone bright red and blurry working at a table. Her friends were all knocked out outside, Blue got hurt so badly—
"No, no no no, don't—" Yellow felt the mark on her forehead burn, like when she was jailed, like when she was a ghost, possessed by the very thing she had unleashed, trapped by her own hubris and foolishness, trapped. trapped, trapped— "Don't leave me here!"
"It's not that bad."
Yellow jumped, spinning around and realizing it was possibly the worst person—no, the worst person she could've been stuck with was sitting there, at the desk of a lab she for once did not want to be in. She hadn’t realized who it was, she’d seen the fuzzy red and motions of a person and hadn’t thought much of it. There was no mistaking that voice.
"Dark Lord." Yellow pressed her back against the seamless door, "You—what do you want?"
"Probably the same thing as you." They said, casually, like they weren’t talking to someone they’d killed, like she wasn’t freaking out, "To leave."
"Then leave. I don't see what's stopping you."
"Yeah, you wouldn't." The Dark Lord rolled their eyes, resting an elbow on the table and leaning their chin on their palm. A palm that led to a wrist attached to a chain that Yellow hadn't seen before, “I’m pretty sure you wore glasses. Kinda lame.”
Yellow almost wanted to laugh, though it wasn't that funny. They’d heard a lot of statements like that from their friends. Those were teasing. This was just an insult.
"Why…?"
"Why what, kid? I'm not a mind reader."
On the contrary, The Dark Lord was scarily perceptive. From what Yellow could recall, The Chosen One rarely spoke, and when they did they did it in halves. But The Dark Lord had understood them unfalteringly. Every half-formed sentence was so clear to them… and why would a killer tell the truth?
It's not like they didn't have powers. What was one more impossibility stacked upon the firebombs and flight?
"You're—you almost killed The Chosen One. You did kill us. What's stopping you?"
The Dark Lord snorted, unamused, "Well clearly it didn’t stick, so I don’t want to try again."
"That’s not exactly reassuring."
"Coward.” She scowled, “But if it makes you feel better, don’t worry. They slapped a nifty little handcuff on my wrist that you can’t see. Your vision really is shit, huh? Whatever, point is, it’s restricting my power, I think. Might be something else. I don't—I don't know." The Dark Lord scoffed, though he sounded… uncertain. Yellow wasn’t as good at reading people as Green, but she could tell that there was something off about what he was saying, at least. Like he didn’t want to admit it. Like he was being forced to. "Point is, I don't have them anymore."
"Maybe it's a good thing you're powerless," Yellow said, the hatred she didn’t realize she had in her rearing its head, "Maybe you deserve it. At least it’ll stop you from killing people."
"Please. Like I need powers to kill people." The Dark Lord looked down, to the table they sat in front of, "And you know what? Yeah, maybe I do. But they shouldn't get to decide that."
They sighed, but besides that didn't do much. They didn't snap off the handcuff they allegedly had (there was a bit of gray, in the blur, stark against the white table and red skin) like it was plastic like they should've been able to do. They didn't snarl or threaten. Instead, they abruptly changed the subject, as subtle as a knife through the throat. Through her throat.
The scar was still there. Yellow kept herself against the wall.
"So, why'd they bring you here?"
"I don't know. I don't even know where here is. They only took me and knocked everyone else out, too."
"Damn. The hell did you do?"
"None of your business," Yellow said, and then, because there was no point in keeping it from them, "I… I don't know."
"Well take a good look around. You'll be here for a while either way."
Yellow glared.
"Relax. I don't bite."
The Dark Lord had incredibly sharp teeth, from what she could remember. She didn't like them already, on account of a lot of things (the atrocities) but she was starting to like them even less now that they were talking.
They had a point though. It was more useful to have an actual look around at their surroundings than to be spiteful or wary. And while The Dark Lord could be lying about being powerless—why would they be? Why would they lure Yellow into a false safety when, if The Dark Lord was lying, Yellow could be as wary as she wanted and they could still kill her. She, hesitantly, took her eyes off them, and looked around the room. Walking around to try and grasp the details.
It was the most incredible place she'd ever been, unfortunately, now that she was properly examining the place–even in a blur, she could tell how advanced it all was. There were panels and monitors with controls she could access and itched to pick apart to see how it worked. That Lucky Block hadn't taught her much; she still loved to learn how things ticked. There were all sorts of things, from protective equipment to cabinets of parts, that were begging to be used. It was leagues better than her lab at home. It was leagues better than anything she'd ever imagined. The Dark Lord themself—who seemed tired and scared (odd) but alive and well (unfortunate), had a laptop in front of them, alongside blueprints and bits of tech half constructed, unrelated but impressive in each part.
Everything was impressive. Carefully construed and brilliantly built.
She hated it.
"Sucks how awesome it is, huh?" The Dark Lord said, voicing her thoughts.
"Yeah." That, at least, she could commiserate on. One fellow captive nerd to another.
"The computer's worse."
Yellow had an incredible laptop back home. High speed, higher memory, customized to her even though technically it was a laptop for all of them. She was proud of it. But, as she cautiously stepped forward, sitting across from The Dark Lord who turned the laptop that had been in front of them, she found that it had her beat. "I hate this."
"It runs faster than mine."
"Mine too."
"I didn't even have to do anything to it. All the graphics are fancy. And it still runs better."
Yellow, who had been tenser than tightrope the entire time, walking a fine line between hesitancy and curiosity, finally threw caution to the wind. If Blue were here, he'd hold her back, but as it were—well, who was she to deny her nature? It wasn't like she hadn't marveled at The Dark Lord's skill before, albeit in a hysterical, terrified way.
And they were both trapped. Seemingly for the long run. That handcuff was real. It was glowing with something too, and kept Dark clearly tied to the table. Power draining, possibly. If they could restrict The Dark Lord, what could Yellow do?
"Why did they take you?" She asked.
"They think I revived the damn cursor. As if I didn't try to kill it myself. As if I don't hate it too. But it was my computer that spawned it in, and they got me while I was half-dead in a ditch, so. Probably shouldn’t have named my console." He grumbled that last part to himself, a little bitterly. Yellow, who was the one who had managed to code the cursor into existence, had a feeling she knew why she was brought here.
"And what do they want?"
Dark, who had just explained why they were here, raised an eyebrow. "Guess."
They wanted the pair to summon the cursor.
Oh, Yellow was screwed.
It only takes an hour before everything gets settled.
"Everything" being a matching little handcuff on Yellow's wrist, glowing her namesake instead of red, a few guards stationed by the door, to match the ones that she’d missed on the other wall (in her defense, they were gray, and so were a lot of the machines!) and a vague command to ‘get things done’ by one of the new guards .
“So I guess it’s not just a power restrictor,” Yellow mused, holding it up to her nose to examine the finer details. It was bright, but she could make out thin lines, delicate wiring. Electricity buzzing inside of it. It wasn’t just a fancy bracelet. “Wonder what it’s for.”
"I couldn’t tell you. Just be glad you can move around," Dark said, idly tugging at the chain attached to the leg of the table. She heard it clink. There was a bit of give, Dark could stretch and move a little, but they were stuck, and Yellow was not. It was better that way. Yellow wouldn't have gotten nearly as comfortable nor as close to The Dark Lord if it hadn't been for that little metal band. Not only because it protected Yellow, but also because she understood. It was a form of awful solidarity, and one that The Dark Lord clearly felt as well.
And they were… less murder-y than before. Yellow was still wary, but she wasn't outright scared, and that counted for something. It made things easier considering that she had to work with them, at least.
"I don't know how they expect me to work in these conditions."
"It's because they're expecting me to do everything." Yellow guessed, eyeing the guards situated by the wall, trying to pick them out the different shades and shapes of gray blurs, "They did what you told them to before, right? It's how you have what you have on the table."
"Yeah."
"Now I can do that too." It made the most sense, at least, "And I know what you're doing, so I can do it better."
“You can never do it better than me. I’m the best at everything, ever.” The Dark Lord scoffed, which–well. Yellow had gotten used to the stupid statements that had come out of them. It was baffling how inane The Dark Lord could be.
(Yellow refrained from using the word silly. That wasn’t right. Her friends could be silly. She could be silly. She couldn’t say The Dark Lord was silly. That felt too unthreatening. Too human).
“Sure you are.”
“I’m better than you anyway. I haven’t taken a break since I got here, but I haven’t been here long–look at everything I’ve already done! No one else could’ve done this.”
"You haven’t taken a break?”
“I’ve tried taking a nap, but then those guys sorta wave their guns around so I get back to work.”
Yellow had not known they had guns, she was too nervous to get close to them, and the ones that had dragged her in here had been too busy restraining her to wave guns around. Yellow masked the spike of fear she felt at that the same way she did with most other negative emotions at the moment; snark.
“That can’t be legal.”
“Creators, you’re right. We should unionize." They said, pitching their voice low like it was a secret, but not low enough that the guards couldn't hear. The last time the pair had tried to be secretive the guards had started to get closer. The two had learned to speak loud enough for their audience. Dark raised his voice to call them out, actually, “You hear that?! We’re gonna go on strike!”
Their audience was emotionless, but Yellow still got the feeling they were rolling their eyes.
"Dark Lord,” Yellow called their attention back, and tried not to shrivel a little at their eyes turning onto her again. “Um, what have you got done so far?"
"Blueprints, and a few pieces. It took months the last time I made the device. Let alone the program to get him here, which I have no idea how to start on."
"Then we've got our work cut out for us."
The Dark Lord huffed, but knew she was right, getting out the scrawled blueprints they'd already made and the pieces and parts that would one day fit into a perfect invention. It would be brilliant. Yellow didn't want that day to ever come.
But, they were compliant with the demands that had been relayed through one of those guards, with the hopes that good behavior would win freedoms. Like getting to wander, or request. Like getting to see Second.
They wondered why The Dark Lord, so hateful and humiliated, complied.
They were surprisingly fun to work with, The Dark Lord. They were quick and clear with their commands, but always followed it up with an explanation, an understanding that Yellow was smart enough to keep up with them. It was refreshing to have someone keep up with them in something like this.
And they were creative too. Their blueprints were detailed, with complex explanations, but the way their mind worked—it was rather fun. No wonder they'd been able to create something like this the first time around.
"And the webcore just translates the code into matter—” The Dark Lord explained, walking Yellow through how everything worked. In another lifetime, one where she hadn't watched her friends die, one where she hadn't been captured, this would be a dream come true. The Dark Lord was a genius. Well versed in his code, in his engineering—it all came naturally to him. No one else had it click like she did, until now. It was a shame that she had so much in common with her killer. In another life, in another time...
She tuned back in, "Casually breaking the laws of physics and code,"
They nodded, "Yeah, casually breaking unbreakable law. You know, par for the course. It's a dimension connector–uh, internet portal? Whichever, of course it's weird." They snorted, "It stabilized itself with this piece reflected off this core coolant here… I used some of my ice powers to make something to help cool it by using the viraband. And Chosen's help."
The Chosen One helped with it? Huh. Yellow had thought they’d been mortal enemies. "We'll substitute it."
"Have to, yeah. Any ideas?"
Yellow blinked. This was the first time The Dark Lord had actively asked her for ideas. Mostly because the entirety of the project had been done already, all written down, and even started in construction. This—a coolant that required two super-powered sticks and a power-up, would be difficult to replicate. Difficult, but not impossible. Normally The Dark Lord would be the one to figure it out, though, on their own. Yellow didn't know why they were asking her.
"Uh. They probably have some sort of super coolant, but—why do we need to cool the core down that much when we can just make it run more efficiently and use a few fans?"
"Fans are a no-go, messes with the stabilization remember? But I think you're onto something with the efficiency there. Easier than asking them to give us a super coolant, huh?"
“Or inventing one ourselves.” Yellow grinned, nodding, mind already buzzing with ideas on how to make the whole thing run just a little smoother. The Dark Lord wasn't all that bad to work with, all things considered. It was nice to feel smart when someone was around to understand it.
She scribbled some notes down into a notepad, theoretical ideas that might reduce core heat or amplify any coolant, smooth the edges of the machine, bouncing ideas back and forth between The Dark Lord. By the time she yawned for the third time, though, they stopped Yellow in her tracks.
"Ok, you need to sleep."
"What? I'm fine."
"Your yawning is getting annoying. If you keep going I think I'll just knock you out myself."
Yellow was exhausted. Who wouldn't be through all of this? But that meant nothing when she knew she couldn't sleep. She had trouble getting some rest on the best of days, and now? Filled with fear, a low thrumming anxiety that kept her jittery despite the exhaustion? Not to mention the splitting headache that came from squinting so much–she wasn't going to sleep. It was whatever. What mattered was she could still work.
"I'm fine, Dark Lord. Let's get started on—"
"We're working on sensitive parts here. Any little thing out of place can mess everything up–and I know things are already a little fuzzy for you, unless you wanna hold it up to your nose. And I don't think they'll let us go if we do anything wrong." The Dark Lord snatched the pencil out of Yellow's hand, "Go take a nap on the couch. Now."
"You're not my boss—"
"Oh my creators." It was odd how they said Creators instead of Cursors. Then again, why would they say ‘Cursors’ if they were going to be summoning one? Maybe Yellow should start saying Creators too. Except that would make her sound more like them, and she didn't really want that. Not when she was quickly realizing how similar they both were. "Come on. You're not gonna use the luxurious couch they gave us?" It was an awful couch, "With all the pillows and blankets and everything?" There were no pillows or blankets or anything. Yellow could barely fall asleep on a good day with a good bed and comfort items galore. It'd take a bit before she was tired enough to force her body into unconsciousness.
"Ha. Seriously, though, I'm fine."
"Sure. Not letting you work on the project, though."
"Like hell you are—"
The Dark Lord swiped all the blueprints away, before getting to work on a piece of machinery that Yellow had no clue over what the finished product could be.
"Wh—"
"The blueprints were for their benefit. And yours now, I guess. I memorized everything already. Considering I'd rewritten them all from memory, I think I can handle going without it for a bit."
"I can still—"
"Be a hindrance? Yeah. But you could also take a break." The Dark Lord stole the laptop too, keeping it away from Yellow before she had a chance to even think about using it. Granted, she rarely did at this point–she could make the text gigantic and so it was easy to work on, but that meant she had already mostly completed the code. There wasn't much to do, but it was better than not working at all! "Nope. Can't do that, either."
"You're—you're awful."
"Tell me that when you're awake enough to think of better insults."
Yellow, stubbornly, did not go to the couch, watching The Dark Lord work to try and figure out what they were doing. She knew all the blueprints too, if she could just figure out what this was, she could help. She could…
"Y'know The Chosen One?"
"Of course. You tried to kill them."
"It was mutual. Well, anyways, before all that, we were best friends, so I saw a lot of stupid stuff they'd done."
"They did a lot of stupid stuff?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
The Chosen One was a bit of an enigma to her. They were a defender of the PC, but a kidnapper of its denizens. More powerful than anything, yet defeated twice over.
They were strong, and silent, and stuck somewhere in the building just like Yellow and The Dark Lord.
"Like what?"
"They can't cook. At all. But that's only 'cause they'll eat anything. Whenever we go to Wikipedia they can eat entire sections."
"They ate websites?"
"Nah, they just liked eating words. They liked essays, I think. Especially if they were important." Dark laughed, softer than Yellow thought they could, "Dunno why though. Letters taste awful."
"Blue thinks so too. She'd hate that. I don't care though. It's all data, in the end, right?"
"Yeah, and data can taste awful even if it winds up the same."
"That's… true."
"They didn't care how bad what they ate was, they just…” The Dark Lord huffed, "But obviously I did, so I started cooking. And I got pretty good, and I think they did like what I made better than they did, but they still ate the citations of the stargazing article, so I dunno."
"The stargazing article?"
"They love to stargaze. ‘Course we didn't have stars, monitors and all that, so we went to the wiki page to look at the pictures. I stuck those green sticky stars on our ceiling."
"That's… surprisingly nice of you."
"Surprisingly?"
"You killed me and my friends. You infected the PC with a virus. You tried to kill The Chosen One." Yellow sighed, "You're not nice."
"I was talking about stars and you pulled out my war crimes? Harsh." Dark hummed, "I'm not nice though. You're right. But for what it's worth—I didn't, I mean I wasn't… I wasn't thinking straight." Dark shook their head, and this was the first time he had sounded hesitant, his words clumsy and stuttered. It was odd, hearing him so unsure. "It wasn't—I don't normally try to kill sticks. I don't know what it was—I…"
"You killed us."
"I shouldn't have. But you’re here now, aren't you–"
"That doesn’t matter. You still killed us. We had to watch each other die and you–it wasn’t–” Yellow, horrifyingly, nearly sobbed, “You tried to kill your ‘best friend,’ you killed us, you stabbed Alan's cursor and infected the PC with a virus—!"
"Hey, the cursor's a freebie, they—! Ugh. I went too far, I didn't mean... "
"You killed my fucking friends. You killed me!" Yellow gestured to the scar that traced down her chin into her throat, "You can't fix that. I don’t know how we’re alive, but you still… you still killed us."
"I know. I'm not saying you should forgive me. I'm saying I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far, it was just meant to be Chosen and, it’s not like I even wanted to hurt Chosen, but—" The Dark Lord flinched as what they were working on sparked, seemingly coming to their senses. Yellow realized The Dark Lord hadn’t slept either. “...never mind.”
“Why then? Why did you do it?”
"Go to sleep."
"...You first."
"You're such a little shit," Dark growled without any vitriol. They worked in silence for a while, and Yellow watched as they put pieces that were starting to look somewhat familiar in the back of her mind together. "I don’t need sleep. I'm coded a little differently than you.”
“Orange sleeps more than us. And he doesn’t even have powers.”
The Dark Lord paused at that, shooting Yellow a weird look (though admittedly, through the fuzziness, every look was weird) before something seemed to click. They spoke before Yellow could puzzle it out, “Yeah, Chosen sleeps a lot too. But I don’t. Can’t, most of the time.”
Huh. That was another thing they had in common, then. “I can’t either. Even if I wanted to.”
“Damn. Well, you want more Chosen blackmail then?"
"I can't stop you."
The Dark Lord rambled about their best friend, to distract her. It was working, unfortunately. She couldn't focus on the project with them talking like that and after the argument.
The Dark Lord was sorry. The Dark Lord apologized. That didn't solve anything, but it meant something, at least.
(But he didn't. He never said sorry. Was he actually, or was Yellow pretending to make herself feel better?)
They rambled about their best friend, whom they'd tried to kill. Who it was painfully obvious they missed. Yellow wondered if The Dark Lord knew that they were in the same building. Yellow wondered what Chosen was being forced to do.
Yellow pretended to sleep, wondering what Orange was forced to do.
The Dark Lord scowled, as they typed on the laptop while they ranted aloud to Yellow, "I don't have any clue on the code to summon the thing. I mean yeah, we could make any cursor or target any place, but short of what I used to shoot that virabot—"
"Oh, I can do it." Yellow brushed it off, trying to figure out how to use one of the machines to weld two of the outside frames together. The frames were… meant to withstand heat; they needed a little more than what Dark could do without powers or Yellow with her usual tools. She leaned down to look at the buttons, squinting. “I did it last time”
The Dark Lord blinked, looking up from the monitor.
"You what?"
"I was the one who coded Alan last time.”
“That was you?”
Yellow paused in her work, suddenly recalling the fact that Dark was more vicious towards that cursor than they were against any of them. So desperate to get it ‘killed.’ And she’d just admitted that she was the one who brought it. Not her most well-thought-out plan.
Then again, he’d already killed her once. “Maybe.”
The Dark Lord whistled lowly, impressed. The pride that Yellow could never quite bury swelled. Never mind, then. Maybe he wasn’t pissed off.
“Well, I’ll leave that up to you then, damn. Wait–you used my computer, didn’t you? That’s why they got me!”
“...Maybe.”
“That’s why they got you!”
“I mean… No, because like you said, they got you for that. Why’d they grab you if they knew I did it?”
The Dark Lord quieted at that, the sound of Yellow trying to figure the machine, Dark messing with the finer parts of the synthesizer at the table.
“I made the machines that made the cursor, so maybe that. Or maybe it’s because I’m so smart they needed me–”
“Ha!”
“Shut up.” Dark laughed, “But seriously, I don’t know. I don’t know what these fuckers can do. I mean, we have full access to the lab, but I have no creator-damned clue what any of this is. You’ve been standing there for, like, half an hour trying to figure it out!”
“Hey, I’ve almost figured it out! I’m a coder, not a constructor. That’s more Green’s schtick.” She muttered the last part to herself, still bitter about the time Green beat her out on a competition with the prompt Toy Robot. That was supposed to be her thing! And Green beat her! Ugh. The next time they’d build battle, she’d work even harder!
(She missed Green. She missed them all so much. Would she even get to do a build battle again? Would she ever even escape? After they bring the cursor in, what then?
She brushed the thought aside. That wasn’t something she could focus on right now.)
“Yeah, well, can't build anything till you figure out those machines,” The Dark Lord said, breaking her out of her stupor.
“I'm trying. All these buttons are tiny and awful and the same color.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get to that soon. You think you can remember what you did before?”
“Yeah! It was easy, I can probably make it better, actually. That tab was small and it showed." Yellow shrugged, not noticing the way that The Dark Lord stiffened in the corner of her vision, nor the sound of the door opening as she spoke, "But it was the best that I could do on short notice. I can improve it now; We have more time here."
"Is that so?"
Yellow jumped, jerking back from the machine like she was caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
There was a new person, who'd walked in, and they looked just like Second, and Chosen and Dark—a hollow head, but gray.
“Relax,” he chuckled, condescending and just a hint cruel. He was a hollow head, but with guards protecting them, rather than keeping them in a cell.
A cell like hers. The doors were opened behind them, if she could just… slip past…
She watched as the new hollowhead stalked past, hiding behind the machine just a little and warily waiting for any acknowledgment. A command. A glance in her direction. If they showed anything, she didn’t see it.
Actually, they didn’t pay her any mind, as the gray hollowhead walked forward. It wasn’t her they were focused on, and why would it be? The Dark Lord was a far more threatening figure, and more competent to boot. Who cared if she coded the thing in? He could figure it out. Clearly they didn’t need her, because the guards on the side just followed her with their heads, the slightest amount of movement betraying that she was being watched (she believed. It was hard to tell with how far the new hollowhead was, but it didn’t seem like he was paying attention?)
They were talking about something she couldn’t care less about. She had better things to do, like–
Like yelping, pulling her hand back from the open doorway like it had burned–no, like it had shocked her. She’d gotten halfway out the door before the thing on her wrist glowed bright and then electrocuted her. She’d had her fair share of redstone burns and PC glitches arcing up her arms, but this was something else. This was intentional .
"I wouldn't attempt that again." The doors closed behind them, as they watched her creep out from behind the machine, "We try to keep our assets protected; it would be a shame if you got hurt. And what you'll find behind that door won't help you leave."
Yellow’s eyes prickled with reflexive tears as she turned around. That hollowhead was looking, and as were all the guards. No wonder they hadn’t moved at all to try and stop her. She’d thought it was just because they’d squeezed all the use out of her, but it was because they knew she couldn’t escape. Cursors, how could she have overlooked that?
They gestured for her to step closer. It was an inviting thing, sort of. She’d seen Second make that same motion countless times, and could vividly picture the accompanying warm smile. She did not make a move, to their thinly concealed annoyance.
"Don't be afraid. I didn't come here to hurt you. Though you seem to have a way of doing that on your own.”
Yellow grimaced. “Yeah?”
“On the contrary," they said, spreading out their hands, purposefully nonthreatening in a way that still felt incredibly threatening, "I came to congratulate you. You've been rather creative, and masterful in your craft."
"I see."
"But," and there it was, "Not quite as effectively as we need. We're a very efficient company, with a lot of strict deadlines to meet and standards to follow. Time is of the essence."
Yellow blinked, "We're—we're not working fast enough? Do we have a deadline?"
"All things do."
"We are working as fast as we can." The Dark Lord spoke up for the first time, weirdly hesitant, and talking too… formally, "As soon as we learn how to utilize the machine, progress will—"
They cut him off, flippant, "How long will that take?"
"Likely—"
"There's no need for estimates. Give it to me straight–how long will it take to learn how to use the user-friendly, efficient machines that all my workers know how to use?"
"Four—" The Dark Lord caught something Yellow didn't, and corrected themself, "Three hours."
There was no guarantee Yellow could figure out how to use this machine, let alone any of the other ones within three hours. She was working with technology she hadn't fathomed existed, and while she picked things up quickly, it was a pretty large jump from working primarily with binary. This wasn't Redstone, these were supercomputers!
Not to mention that while Yellow could code Alan a cursor to use from another dimension, it was The Dark Lord who had built the portals she had used. They were working with resources they didn't have anymore, superpowers that have been restricted, Wi-Fi portals that they couldn't open. The Dark Lord was chained to a table in the middle of the room!
No, one problem at a time. Yellow had three hours. She could do it. Three hours to understand every machine in the room—
"You have two."
It was like ice in her veins, the realization, the dead, shattering into her head in a cold sheet, splintering down her spine. They didn't have a way to escape. They didn't have resources. They had two hours.
The person who might've imprisoned her and definitely imprisoned Dark left the room, barely brushing past Yellow as he did. So close she could make out just a few more details. The suit, the stride. The sheer threat, though that might’ve just been her fear of deadlines manifesting. Impossible deadlines, at least. She turned to the table where The Dark Lord sat, still stock still.
"...Dark Lord?"
The Dark Lord collapsed into their chair with a sigh, the smallest hint of shakiness the only thing to let Yellow know just how fucked they were. The Dark Lord, one of the most powerful sticks in existence, chained to a table, shaky. Yellow felt her heartbeat, pounding in her chest. Ah. She was utterly terrified too. She just didn’t get unsteady when she was scared. She froze, her mind racing as fast as her pulse, but her body unable to act on it, too busy analyzing to move.
"Can you figure everything out in two hours?"
"I—I don't think so."
"You can." The Dark Lord nodded to themself, "No, I've seen you work. You can. You're almost done figuring out the one you'd been working on. Once you do that one, everything will fall into place."
"You—” couldn't know that, she wanted to say, but instead forced herself to focus on something else, something that itched at her curiosity, "Who was that?"
"They... I don't know. Not really. But I know they're gonna be back in two hours to test you on how everything works."
"Test me?"
"C'mon, kid, better get started."
Yellow hissed, "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can. You can do this. Start with what you're working on." The Dark Lord glared at her, a sharp thing, with the edges of laser beam black threatening to break through their cornea. She knew because his eyes glowed when it happened, and it always accompanied an edge to his voice.
Except Yellow knew she couldn’t. Knew it in the way The Dark Lord had gotten a splitting headache when they’d, through habit alone, tried to weld two pieces of metal together with their eyes alone. The way that he’d been knocked out for hours, clutching at his head and wincing at every loud noise she’d made. They’d done something to him. They'd done something to her, too, making her this scared of a threat she didn’t know of. Making her hands shake, and her headache from all the squinting worse. She couldn’t work like this. She couldn’t understand these machines terrified out of her mind—
He cut off her thoughts, "You said you almost got it..”
“Dark Lord, that wasn’t–”
“After you get that one, everything else is gonna be easier. You're smart. It’ll be fine!"
"Ok. Ok. I can—I can try."
"You can do this," He said, with an air of finality. There was no room for doubt there. And, for one second, there was a flicker of hope in her, too. Maybe, just maybe, she could pull this off.