Chapter Text
“So what exactly is the bug in this?” asked Mike, standing in front of the giant title screen.
“Just play for a bit and you’ll see, mate.”
Motormouth Mike, holding a controller, passed the title screen of the game Ramb was showing him. The plug made Mike test the game for an ‘unconventional bu’ Ramb found in the pixelized RPG. The microphone didn’t really see how this was important enough for him to stop working on actual problems, as this was only the abandoned version of the legend of Tenna and was not meant to be played by anyone. However, the bartender practically begged Mike to try the game, so he eventually accepted.
A chip tune played, and a character selection menu was displayed on the giant screen. Three characters were available: motormouth Mike, cowboy mike and cat Mike.
“See? We never programmed the game to do that. The characters were meant to be Kris, Ralsei, and Susie. We never even made sprites for ya. I don’t understand how the game files got altered THAT much-”
“Wouldn’t that just mean someone modified the game after it got abandoned? Maybe one of the pippinses had fun with the game files thinking no one would play with it again. By the way, why are you coming back to it anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter, but listen: I checked the files. It’s the exact same as before, and I checked the sprites too, I can’t find any Ramb or Mike ones. Because yes, when I was the one playing, the character was me! And ya know what the weird thing is? It only happens when you use this odd controller. I dismantled it, I played with it, nothing.”
Ramb scratched his head in disbelief. Mike looked down at the odd controller.
“Alright buddy, I’m gonna keep investigating, so you can go see your pippins friend. OK?”
The plug sighed. “Thank you for even trying. I told Tenna before, he doesn’t want to hear about it. But you know, I suspect it’s just because I’m the one asking. He would’ve fired me long ago if it wasn’t for TV World’s ‘labor shortage’. It’s almost a miracle I’m still here, innit?” Ramb asked, not waiting for an answer. He turned away, walking backstage. “And thanks again, pal. Not everyone bothers to listen to this old toy.” he added, before disappearing behind the curtains.
Mike was left alone with his tiny lookalike. He stared at the three characters. Battat was a bit worried Ramb would ask Mike about the three characters proposed instead of one, but he didn’t seem to mind. Apparently (as he suspected), everyone did notice their physical differences. They just didn’t care.
Either that or they were all stupid.
Mike clicked on his avatar, and a transition animation played. A little cinematic featuring what seemed to be the front face of a theater played, and mini Mike appeared under small stars on the red carpet in front of it. A swarm of little versions of TV World employees were surrounding his sprite, screaming, clapping, Shuttahs taking pictures. Battat moved his character around, and started interacting with all the characters. He tried gathering all the information he could, but all he got were words of praise, encouragement, and a Shadow guy fainting at some point. Was that what Tenna lived in his prime? Realising it probably wouldn’t get better than this, he walked towards the building. He passed the doors, and the screen turned black. A second cinematic played, featuring the beginning of the rhythm mini game in pixels. Instead of a punk rock environment, it looked more traditional, like an opera: the curtains were red velvet, the lights soft yellow-ish instead of colorful LEDs. The group rose from the scene. Mike was holding the microphone, obviously, while a pianist zapper and a Shadow guy holding a saxophone appeared on his sides. “How can a zapper play the piano with their gloves”, he thought.
A Jazzy song started playing, and Mike held the controller tighter, ready to play the coming notes. As they came, he nervously slammed the buttons, trying to get a decent score, more for his own ego than to actually find unsuspected bugs. He was never skilled at rhythm games, and having the more scrunched up, pixelized version of the game did not make things easier. He missed a lot of notes, so he did not expect a score any higher than B-rank.
To his surprise, he managed to be granted an S-rank.
Well, it was probably rigged. Tenna’s rank distribution system never made sense, did it?
The fake audience threw flowers at mini Mike, before disappearing. Battat waited a few seconds, but nobody came. Was this a bug?
He tried to move his character, but turning the joystick round had no effect on his sprite. Tenna suddenly appeared on the screen, going from the left wing of the scene to Mike’s side. The pink TV was showing its perpetual smile.
“GREAT JOB, MIKE!_”
“I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!_”
“YOU’RE GOOD AT SINGING, YOU SHOULD COME ON STAGE MORE OFTEN!_”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF BECOMING MY NEW CO-TV HOST?_”
sounds great __________0__________Hmmmm.....
Battat didn’t expect choices in this game. This was new. Anyway, what other choice did he have than to accept? He clicked on the first option.
“WOWIE! I’M SO GLAD YOU ACCEPTED, MIKE!_”
“YOU KNOW, I THINK YOU’LL BE A PERFECT TV HOST._”
“MAYBE YOU COULD EVEN… REPLACE HIM…_”
“Mike?”
Battat jumped, hearing a familiar voice calling for him. Panicking, he turned off the console before finishing the dialog. The real Tenna came to him, seemingly worried.
“Are you okay? You look pale, Mike.” said the CRT, bending to get to the fake microphone’s level.
“I’m fine! Don’t worry, Ramb just asked me to try this game to find bugs, but a glitch really spooked me out, that is all-”
They stood in silence for a few seconds. This was really awkward…
“You’ve, huh, you’ve been sounding a bit weird recently, Mike. I think you’re working too much.” He looked at the console. “And apparently Ramb is not making things easier. I will have a chat with him later.” And whose fault was that, thought the fake Mike. “...How about we grab a drink in the green room, huh? We could catch up, talk a bit, what do you think?”
Mike hesitated, and glanced at the game console. Meh, he could probably get back to it again another day. He straightened his back, and put his confident smile back on.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
The CRT smiled, and with a little pirouette turned around to leave the S-rank room. ‘Mike’ followed behind.
The green room was empty, aside from Ramb, loyal to his bartender role. The same calming music as always was playing in the background. The two coworkers sat in front of the bar, ready to order.
“Hey Ramb, weren’t you supposed to see your friend?”
The plug smirked. “I don’t know if I can really call it a ‘friend’, but… they didn’t show up, so I just started to clean up the glasses.” Seeing Mike’s concerned look,he quickly changed the subject. “But hey, what can I get you lads? Battery acid?”
Tenna nodded. Battat started spiraling. Obviously a TV can drink battery acid, but is it suspicious for a Microphone to drink something else? He was a machine. Did he really have to drink acid to keep his cover? This is why he never wanted to drink with Tenna as Mike. Realising he was taking too long, he ordered the acid as well. Well, stomach ache in a bottle. Ramb took a bottle from the shelf, and poured them two drinks. Tenna took a sip and put the glass on the counter. Nervously, Battat brought the glass to his lips, and drank a tiny dose of acid. It was burning…
“So! How are you, Mike? Anything in particular going on in your life?”
“Tenna, I sing you lullabies to sleep, you know everything about me.” Small Mike said, taking another sip from his glass.
“Haha, yeah, you’re right, my bad…”
He shrank a tiny bit saying this, and finished the rest of the glass in one go. What was the meaning in all of this? It was so awkward… He didn’t add a thing.
After what felt like an hour of silence but was actually a mere minute passed, a pippins entered the green room. They walked towards the bar, looking furious.
“Ramb, I don’t know what the fuck you did in the costume’s room, but it’s a mess.”
“I was here the whole day. And where were you earlier luv? I was waiting for ya.”
Mike and Tenna looked back and forth at the two employees. The pippins turned red, or rather, redder than usual.
“Don’t call me that. And it doesn’t matter, I’m gonna need your help to clean that up.”
Ramb threw a look at Mike smirking, and put down the glass he was drying.
“You can just take the drinks you want, lads. I’ll be gone for a while.”
Mike and Tenna were now alone. Well, it was not like it made that much of a difference, considering how silent Ramb was earlier. Tenna turned on his seat to make his whole body facing Mike.
“Mike, I know I already said it back there, but… I don’t want you to get exhausted, so if you need anything, you can tell me. You used to be… and now, you’re running from side to side, you’re… ”
What was up with him? Since when did he care about his employees- He guessed Mike really did have special treatment.
Maybe this was his chance to learn more about Mike, or even the mysterious game… This Tenna NPC was so weird. He said Mike could replace ‘him’... was he talking about Spamton? The mail guy? He forced himself to take another sip of his sour drink.
“I’m what?”
“You’re… Y’know. Like that.”
“No, I don’t know.”
Tenna laughed. At least he tried. Battat looked at the bottles laying patiently on the shelves in front of them. Maybe if he could make Tenna drink a bit more, he might get useful information…
He got up his seat, and walked behind the bar, where Ramb was usually standing.
“What are you doing, Mike?”
“I’m pouring you another drink. Yours is empty already.”
“Oh, thank you, then.” The TV said, showing him his glass. Mike took it, and poured the acid inside. “Won’t you get one too?”
Battat looked at the bright green liquid in disgust.
“Huuuh… Mine is not empty yet, but thanks.”
He watched as Tenna swallowed a fourth of his drink. Was it too early to investigate?
“Tenna, I don’t want to be a pushover but, what do you mean by ‘I changed’?”
“C’mon, Mike. You know what I mean.”
“Is it a good thing? That I changed?”
Battat stared at his screen, looking for a reaction.
"You're being weird, Mike.” He said, not taking his eyes (or more his stare?) off the glass.
Well, this was unsuccessful. And quite disappointing. But while he was at it, he might as well ask more questions about the game. He filled Tenna’s glass once more, hoping this one would get drunk enough to give out info easily, and watched the TV empty it in one go.
“Did you know about the glitched game? It looks more like someone changed the code than a bug, so I thought maybe you were the one who-”
“I’m not a programmer, Mike. Hell, I’m terrible with all this numeric stuff. I didn’t even know some people still played with it. I thought it was completely abandoned.”
He was looking less and less present. Battat wanted to fill his glass again, but Tenna stopped him. It looked like he was drunk enough already anyway.
“Right, right… and Tenna, you know Spamton, I know you hate him and all, but did he ever tell you what his opinion on me was? I can barely remember the guy, and you spent a lot of time with him, I recall. I’m just… curious. Nothing crazy.”
Tenna looked down at his empty glass, and his screen flickered. Did he go too far? The mailman had always been a touchy subject with him. But after a few seconds, Tenna straightened his back and gave his best smile to Mike.
“Oh, this rat hated you! I never knew why. He couldn’t stand the idea that you helped me on stage. I think he was jealous, because you were just as known by the audience as him, even though you never showed up on the screen. I never understood why…” Tenna rested his shoulder on the counter, and bent to get closer to the fake Mike’s face. “You’re one of the greatest people I know. How could anyone hate you?”
He was so close. If Tenna touched his face, would he notice his fake body?
Probably. He couldn’t risk it. Battat backed down a bit as Tenna got closer, and the TV almost fell, swinging from the alcohol.
“I think that’s enough. You should sleep. Come here, big guy, I’m gonna guide you to your bed.” Battat said as he stood up. Tenna did so as well, and rested his arm on Mike’s shoulder.
They slowly walked to his room, Tenna opened the door, and fell on his bed. Mike helped him take off his shoes, then shirt, then pants. It was surely useless to sing him to sleep in this state.
“Alright, buddy, you’re all set. You should sleep.”
“Thank you, Mike… You’re a real friend.” No he wasn’t.
“Tenna, I…” He thought about the last scene of the game earlier. “Is it weird for a microphone to go on stage?”
“Huuuuuuh… I dunno, Mike. You’ve never been on stage. I want to sleep now.”
“Yeah, sure. Goodnight boss.”
His screen turned black. Mike stayed next to him for a good thirty minutes, waiting for him to be asleep. His body was very silent when he was asleep. This is what happens when you don't breathe. Mike got used to it as time went by.
Why was he doing all of this for him? Battat turned his head towards the mirror next to Tenna’s bed. Right. He was not the one watching Tenna sleep. Mike was. He glanced at Tenna, who had obviously been asleep for a while. Maybe this was his sign to go.
He stood up, and left the room.